#I felt like I made her too Barbie-like. I’m not entirely against her looking like Barbie if she was a different character

[i-really-like-phrogs]

Here’s some process pics for my current Betty piece! She was originally a repaint of a much older piece, that was only meant to be her face. Well… she evolved into her own painting!

Oh! And for those wondering what the original looked like…

Yeah… Yikes!

[lucy4242564]

.cowboy like me.

Chapter 12

All these people think love’s for show, but I would die for you in secret

~family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother~

“You good Barbie? Ya didn’t shootcha self did’ya?”

“I’m okay,” she looked beside her as he passed through the bushes. “I think I shot a deer?”

“Ya either did or ya didn’t.”

Two months after Lilah’s attack, she was doing considerably better. The topic was still fresh to her so it was something she kept behind lock and key. Daryl was the only person besides herself that knew the entire story and she wanted to keep it that way. She already felt so stupid for nearly getting herself kidnapped. She didn’t need anyone else telling her.

 

In the distance she heard her name being called. It was raspy, thick, and southern. The mirror in front of her reflected the door opening behind her revealing the man behind the voice. “We still goin’?” Daryl asked.

 

“Yeah, sorry. I was just finishing my makeup, I’m coming.” Lilah assured, then turned to face him.

 

Daryl scanned over her body like he’d never seen her before. He always did.

 

It was June 24th; their anniversary.

 

It had been two years since they made things official, but the first time they were actually celebrating the date. They’d both forgotten the year prior and chalked it up to nothing. This time though, Daryl planned something. Actual dates were few and far between in their relationship. Sure they would go out to eat or to the movies sometimes, but nothing about it got too special.

 

This go around, Daryl gave her a dress code, a time, and had been bugging her about it the night before. It was out of character for him. Lilah wasn’t complaining though. After two years of being together, it was nice to still have little surprises.

 

 

“You said jeans would be fine!” Lilah couldn’t hold back a laugh when they walked under a sign going into Six Flags.

 

She’d told him before that she’d never been, but always wanted to go. Nothing ever presented a real reason to go though, so she never did.

 

“It’s you and them short shorts against the world ain’t it?”

 

“I wear dresses!” She defended. “But you specifically said jeans.”

 

“You’da wore a dress while ridin’ one of them things?” Daryl nodded towards the general direction of the rides.

 

She pouted her lips and mumbled under her breath, “I’ll wear a dress while riding you.”

 

“Whatcha say?” A sly grin on his face.

 

“Nothing.”

 

 

A knock on the front door had Lilah scrunching her eyebrows. She checked the stoves time to see that Daryl wasn’t home for at least another 20 minutes. Even then, he has a key.

 

Glancing down at the floor where Cam, Brittany’s son laid, and back at the door she stood up. Lilah was babysitting while Brittany went to the dentist. All summer long Lilah had been helping Brittany and Paul out with him. There had been no issues since she started, so another knock at the door had her peaking out the curtains.

 

Her heart sank when she saw a man standing in front of the door. He was a little less than 6 foot, heavier set, and balding. If she was quiet, he didn’t need to know anyone was there.

 

Still, she grabbed her gun from the counter.

 

“Boy, there’s a car outside, I know ya in there. It’s about’ya uncle.” His voiced sounded from behind the door.

 

Daryl had talked about his uncle before. He had fond memories of him; he’s the one that got him his first crossbow. Lilah didn’t know the guy though, and she had another life in here she needed to protect. She stayed put. After silence from the other end for a few minutes her body jumped when a tapping sound came from the bedroom. Whoever he was, was tapping on the window in there now.

 

Lilah could faintly hear the man talking but remained in the living room with Cam. About a minute later there was another knock on the front door. “Ya uncle’s had a huntin’ accident, I need’ya to come on.”

 

Now he was just pulling at her heartstrings.

 

If he tried anything, she’d pull the trigger, no exceptions.

 

She slowly unlocked the door before cracking it open. It was just enough that half of her body could be seen. Before she could respond to anything he’d said, he spoke. “Who’re you?”

 

Part of her wanted to laugh because, wasn’t he at her door; she should be the one asking that question. Instead her lips parted before answering. “Um, Daryl’s girlfriend, he’s not here right now. He’ll be home in about 10 or so minutes though.” She felt him eyeballing her in an almost suspicious manner. Did he think she was lying?

 

Not that she cared that much, she didn’t even know who he was. It just made her feel awkward as they stood there in silence for a little while longer. “I’m’is dad.” The man said while turning around. “I’ll wait for’em out here.”

 

His dad?

 

Lilah knew very little about Daryl’s father. Or mother for that matter. She knew he became abusive fairly early in Daryl’s childhood and had a serious alcohol problem. He was the one responsible for the marks along her lover’s back. The last time they’d spoken was apparently a little over 3 years ago. They’d gotten into it and Daryl walked out.

 

It made her feel bad that Daryl still looked for his fathers approval though. He still talked about their hunting trips and whenever he was brought up, Daryl defended what he did.

 

 

 

“How’s your uncle?” Lilah asked when Daryl slid into bed late that night.

 

“He’s fine. Was trackin’ the area for the upcomin’ season and busted his ass, accidentally stabbed himself. Pa needed help gettin’im out the woods.”

 

“I’m glad he’ll be okay.”

 

“Yeah,” Daryl bit the inside of his cheek. “He wants ta meet’ya. Pops wouldn’t stop askin’ boutcha.” If the room hadn’t been dark, Daryl would’ve seen Lilah’s cheeks turn pink. “Y’ain’t gotta though.”

 

Lilah considered what he was saying. She felt very negatively towards his father. Most of Daryl’s emotional issues stem from the abuse he endured through his childhood at the hands of that man. That, in her eyes, was unforgivable. But then, she couldn’t help noticing the hopeful tone of his voice.

 

“You let me know whenever you’re ready Dixon.”

 

 

 

“Sweet pea, I support you. I just-“ Steve Cabot, truth be told, was panicking on the other end of the line. “How long have you thought over it?”

 

“Since Spring Break dad. I really think being on scene is what I was meant to do.”

 

“Why don’t you just, just think a little longer. Law school is a big deal and you’re already almost three years in.”

 

“I mean,” Lilah wanted to go ahead and drop classes before they really started. “I think I’ll just, I can just wait until this semester ends and make my final decision then.”

 

“That would be a much better option. It’ll give you time to re-enroll and figure out exactly what it is you’d want to do anyways.”

 

 

 

When Lilah brought up her potential career change in the future, it got Daryl thinking of just that. The future.

 

He didn’t see a future without her. It was about to be their third holiday season together and he noticed the nervous looks she’d give him when the cheesy ring commercials would play. They’d spoke about marriage before, but only briefly. More of a passing comment about their future wedding and why he needed to grow his hair longer. Nothing else.

 

It wasn’t a bad idea to start looking, he just didn’t know what to be looking for. He didn’t even know where to really look. Lilah didn’t wear much jewelry. A black, pearl necklace was the one piece he was familiar with; anything else was just random trinkets that he hardly saw. Daryl was clueless.

 

“Don’t think yourself to death.” Lilah’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

 

Maybe he should bring it up now.

 

“L?” He questioned. She hummed in response, waiting to hear what was on his mind. Daryl could feel his hands become sweaty, he was thankful it was dark in their bedroom. At least she couldn’t see how nervous he was. “Marriage stuff, is that somethin’ you want soon? With me?”

 

Lilah almost stopped breathing entirely. Was he about to have that conversation with her? “I wouldn’t want it with anyone else.”

 

These things scared her and she wasn’t entirely sure why. Finality was so bittersweet in her opinion. She knew Daryl was the love of her life. Daryl was her soulmate. Marriage felt so intense though.

 

She had nobody else to commit to and couldn’t imagine living a life without Daryl Dixon. Marriage should be something she looked forward to; this conversation had her stomach churning though.

 

“I don’t really know how ta talk about this kinda stuff. What would you— I mean, what would’ya expect?”

 

He was tripping over his words. It made her feel bad with how bad his nerves were right now, but it also helped her in knowing she wasn’t the only one that felt that way. “Expect?”

 

“Ya know, a ring, engagement, all’at.”

 

Truthfully, Lilah hadn’t thought about any of that in a while. “I prefer yellow gold, nothing too flashy though.” That’s about all Lilah knew she wanted as far as rings went. She didn’t wear them much. “I don’t care too much about an engagement. My dad just has to know; you have to ask him for my hand. He’s talked about me getting engaged and married more than I have I think.”

 

“You’ve talked about yer weddin’ before though, figured you wanted something big.”

 

“I want a big wedding. Everything else though, I don’t care a whole lot about.” They laid in bed for a few more minutes in silence until Lilah finally rolled over onto his chest. “I’m not in a huge rush though, so don’t stress over anything.”

 

 

 

Lilah sat on the floor of Daryl’s living room as he stared at the sheet of paper that was supposed to be teaching him how to braid. She conned him into learning since he was always so adamant about her trying out his lifestyle. It was his turn to do something like that for once.

 

“Don’t know why ya need me doin’ yer hair anyways.” He grumbled as he criss-crossed the strands of hair.

 

“You never know when you might need to know how to do it Daryl Dixon.”

 

“Ain’t that hard anyways.” She felt a hair-tie being secured at the bottom of her hair. “It’s like tyin’ a knot.”

 

Lilah was terrible at braiding, so color her shocked when he’d only just started learning and already had it tied off. With a scoff she jumped up and went to see for herself.

 

“Everything okay princess?” His tone was taunting as he followed behind her.

 

It was loose and a little messy, but it looked decent. She would’ve been impressed if she wasn’t jealous at how easy it was for him. “Shut up.”

 

 

 

Lilah was sitting on the balcony of her apartment that Thanksgiving drinking wine with her mom. They were going to Oregon to visit her brother who just started an internship for Christmas, so she got them again for the November holiday. Daryl came this time and was being surprisingly social with her dad inside.

 

It made her heart skip a beat to see how far he’d come since their first meeting.

 

“What’s your plans for Christmas?” Her mom asked her.

 

“Mmm, probably at Daryl’s place.” She responded, unfocusing her periphery from inside the glass doors.

 

 

 

Daryl Dixon was chewing the inside of his mouth raw. He was going to talk to Lilah’s dad about marrying her. That was the first order of business.

 

He needed a drink.

 

Leaving the couch behind, he walked to the kitchen and pulled out a thing of whiskey he kept there.

 

“What you pouring over there young man?” Her fathers voice floated across the room.

 

“Little bit’a Jack.”

 

“Mind pouring me a glass?”

 

Daryl reached in the cabinet to grab another glass, before making his way back into the living room. He handed one drink over to Lilah’s father, then took a sip of his own.

 

He needed to just get it over with.

 

He was thinking too much.

 

“I uh, I actually needa talk to ya bout’ somethin’ while I gotta chance.” Daryl’s heart was beating out of his chest.

 

“Everything okay son?” Her father, Steve, asked.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he took another swig from the glass. “It’s come up a couple times and I been thinkin’ bout’ askin’ Lilah to marry me.” Daryl wanted to throw up.

 

Her father didn’t respond. Instead, he downed the entire glass of whiskey in one swallow. “I think I need another drink.” Daryl swiftly grabbed the glass from him and walked back to the kitchen.

 

Steve Cabot knew this day was coming. His daughter had been in a relationship with the peculiar man for well over two years now. It was about that time the question would be on the table.

 

Still, he wasn’t ready for it.

 

He’d been Lilah’s sole provider since she was born. Even after turning 18, he kept her financially secure. He knew his daughter had a good head on her shoulders from an early age; a little bit of a smart-ass, but never the one he had to worry about making a lot of bad decisions. Steve didn’t mind continuing to provide for Lilah. As long as she was in college or getting her life started, he’d be there to support her.

 

Physically, emotionally, or financially.

 

How was he supposed to hand that over to someone else after so long?

 

Daryl handed him a full glass again. This time he only stared into the liquid.

 

Lilah still had another year left in college, more tests to take after that, then a career to start. Hell, maybe even more schooling if she decided to switch career paths this late in the game.

 

Marriage was a lot of stress.

 

He took a sip.

 

“When were you thinking about asking her?”

 

Daryl had grown used to the silence, he was nearly surprised by the question. “Don’t gotta date yet. Was thinkin’ over the summer, whenever she’s got more time on’er hands.”

 

Summer would be a good time. She wouldn’t lose her focus.

 

Steve didn’t dislike Daryl. He wasn’t overly fond of him in the beginning, that was mostly due to the fact he just didn’t want his daughter getting caught up in a relationship at all before she started law school.

 

Lilah was happy with him.

 

Even though it was a hard pill to swallow, Steve knew she was taken care of with him. Daryl had fixed countless things in her apartment that the complex wouldn’t fix themselves, he’d gotten her car back in commission, made sure she didn’t spend a holiday alone, and he’d even taught her things Steve never would’ve know. He still didn’t know how to drive a stick shift.

 

“You got a ring?”

 

Daryl shook his head, “Not yet. Gotta get’er ring size first.”

 

Throwing back the rest of the whiskey, Lilah’s dad leaned over the couch and stuck his hand out. “Just give me a heads up before you ask. I want to be in town for it.”

 

 

 

“C’mon blondie, keep up. Y’ain’t finna prove me wrong now.”

 

Lilah hated her life.

 

A few days before Christmas all of the Dixon’s ended up under the same roof for a brief period of time. An argument ensued between Daryl, his uncle, and his father, against Merle.A true pot-stirrer at heart, Lilah sided with Merle. She had no idea what they were arguing about.

 

But here she was.

 

Hiking through the woods, alone, with Merle Dixon.

 

He bet that the two of them could get a deer before the other three avid hunters. She had no choice but to stick to being stubborn and agree with him.

 

 

 

Lilah couldn’t believe how scared shitless she would be over a deer.

 

They’d been tracking one for what felt like hours at that point and she told Merle she needed to sneak away to pee. How the hell she snuck up on a deer instead, she had no idea.

 

She softly turned her head to see if Merle was still in sight.

 

Nope.

 

“Ain’t gotta worry bout you two motormouths, y’all probably scare the deer towards us if anything.” Daryl’s taunt echoed in her mind.

 

She needed something to encourage her to load and aim the rifle that she’d been carrying at the deer. She could do this. Lilah hadn’t actually shot a rifle in a few months, but the deer was right ahead of her. There’s no way she could miss it.

 

A deep breath in.

 

Target scored on the scope.

 

A deep breath out.

 

An ear ringing shot rang through the air.

 

Lilah could hear Merle cursing in the distance and his footsteps growing closer. When she dropped the gun down, the deer was gone.

 

What the fuck?

 

“You good Barbie? Ya didn’t shootcha self did’ya?”

 

“I’m okay,” she looked beside her as he passed through the bushes. “I think I shot a deer?”

 

“Ya either did or ya didn’t.”

 

She forced out a sharp sigh. “No, I shot at one. I swear I hit it, it was right there!” Lilah threw her arms up in disbelief.

 

Merle pushed past her and walked ahead. He was cursing under his breath but not loud enough for her to make out any sentences. Then he stopped and started cackling. “Bout right here huh?”

 

“Yeah, exactly right there.”

 

“Well sister Sue, get yer ass out here. We bout ta track that dead deer.”

 

Her face twisted in confusion until she stood beside him and saw blood splatter on the ground.

 

She had killed a deer.

 

“Girl, I will pin ya down if I got to. Getchur ass here.” Merle was laughing at her as he was cleaning her kill.

 

The other group hadn’t even made it back yet and it was nearly dark. The older Dixon was determined to put some blood from the deer on Lilah’s face, but she’d put it off, hoping he’d forget.

 

Tough luck on that one.

 

Begrudgingly the blonde girl walked towards him and grimaced as he smeared her forehead and cheeks with blood. Headlights shone in the driveway. Lilah couldn’t even hide the grin that was on her face as she walked from around back, Merle hot on her heels.

 

“Bullshit.” Was the first thing out of her boyfriend’s mouth when he stepped out the truck.

 

“Barbie killed her a buck Ken!”

 

Lilah honestly couldn’t tell who was happier— her or Merle.

Chapter 13.

[harrieatthemet]

Park

I’m baaaaaaack!

In which you take a phone call and Harry can’t do this anymore.

This is uncomfortable.

Not that he’s the bragging type, but he’s been to his fair share of new places. And with new places come a fresh panel of strangers, different energies in a room, new scenery even. He’s seen a lot, been around and experienced enough, so he likes to think that there’s no social scenario that can off put him.

But he was very, very, wrong. And he can’t believe that he had even suggested the idea.

“Could be good fo’ her,” he insisted, “y’know?”

And yes, you did know. In fact you had been keen on the idea for a while and it was him, up until now, who had been adamantly pushing back against the suggestion of inviting in a new chapter. The ‘co-parenting chapter’ not so fondly known by him.

“I love that idea!” and just getting you to agree with him on something made his stomach flutter, which is likely what prompted him to suggest it in the first place.

It’s exactly what landed him here, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. One hand is stuffed awkwardly in his pocket, fingers mindlessly pushing around a piece of lint from the wash. The other has his camera, thumb locked and loaded, so any time Angel Baby decides to look cute (which is always, that’s why he’s got an entire cupboard full of processed digital photos) he’s prepared to eternally document it.

You had set it up nice. Very artistic in a vintage kind of way, that’s what he told you when he met you at the park. And he liked that you packed that Barbie doll angel baby loves, the one that’s been ridden hard and long and was missing a foot.

“She’s gotten bigger,” he mused, a shameless attempt to break the silence.

“Bigger than when she was with you last Thursday?”

He had almost forgotten she’d slept over at Anne’s with him the weekend before. Days in between his time with Angel Baby felt like painfully long, drawn out weeks. A fear of his, regardless of whether or not it was realistic, was that for every minute he spent in separation from her she’d have gotten a little taller or a little older. She’d lose a tooth and he couldn’t play tooth fairy, or she’d have a nightmare and he couldn’t be the one to hold her tight to his chest so she felt safe enough to fall back asleep.

“Everything going good?” Your uppity tone makes his neck twirl to look at you, “like, you know, with the music and the new album?”

He can appreciate you taking interest in his work, and he doesn’t care if you’re just trying to make small talk as the two of you look on at Angel Baby collecting random blades of grass. He’d like to think you’re feeling just as awkward as he is. Are your palms clammy too? He’s wondering if you have that weird, knotted pit in your stomach like he does.

“Yeah,” he nods, “mhm, all good, goin’ real well. S’a process ‘nd all.”

He feels stupid. What a stupid answer, especially because you say nothing back to him and the conversation went right to the graveyard and buried itself 6 feet under.

There was a time where conversations never were like this between the two of you. In fact, they were some of the very best times of his life to date. Not one moment would pass by where the two of you weren’t chatting about something, usually nothing at all really. The banter would ramble on and on. And talking to you felt easy, comforting even, like he had a soundboard to voice off of and a partner who never tired in stimulating his thought process. It never felt like this, like it does right now; forced, uncomfortable, dreary and even a little sad.

“Daddy,” Angel Baby’s voice comes to him in a wave of sing-song, paired with a big grin, “play princesses with me!”

There’s next to nothing in this world that she could ask of him where he wouldn’t immediately agree to her. He’s fully at her Beck and call. No was a word she seldom heard come from Harry, so naturally he agrees.

“I’m gonna answer this call,” and he fights off the frown creeping up on him as he sees your face light up at the caller ID, “do you mind?”

Reluctantly, he shakes his head in a way affirmative enough for you to practically skip off. And when you’re far enough away, out of earshot beneath the shards refuge of an old tree, he lets out the disappointed sigh he’d been swallowing.

“Daddy,” angel baby’s tone is melancholy, frowning as she places her face directly in front of Harry’s, “you’re sad.”

“Sad?” He inquires playfully, though forced, “m’not sad, poppet. Couldn’t be sad when y’with me.”

She doesn’t want to giggle when Harry’s like this, all down in the mouth and out of his element. The two of them are almost alarmingly in sync with one another. When he feels a certain way she never fails to tap into it, like a weird sort of telepathic type of connection. But she can’t ward off the shrill of a belly laugh that bubbles out of her, serene music to Harry’s ears, when he grazes his fingers atop her belly to start tickling her.

“Who was that?”

He doesn’t know why he asked, because that’s rude. And if you don’t tell him, he has to understand that it’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to share. He’s not in the position to be invasive anymore, it was a privilege he surrendered when he put his signature on the divorce papers. But it didn’t stop him from wanting to know, just for the sake of curiosity.

“What?”

“On the phone,” he repeats, tone a little more shy, “sorry, was rude of me t’ask.”

“Oh,” your nervous laugh was enough of an answer in itself, “just my sister.”

For all the years you’ve known him, shared a bed with him, woke up in the morning and fell asleep at night with him, if not for the fact that the product of your love for one another was sat beside him eating a cookie and brushing the hair of an American Girl Doll, he’d have liked to think you’d know he’d realize you were lying.

There’s no sense in pressing you though, so he doesn’t. Anymore detail you provided would just be twisting the knife.

He’s bitten off more than he could chew. There was no sufficient amount of mirror pep talks or hours worth of phone calls to his mother that could have prepared him for this. The only time the two of you had really spent together post divorce, before his lackluster suggestion of a family picnic, was at Angel Baby’s birthday party three months ago. Even than, it was chalk full of other people to mingle with and not just the intangible concept of the family unit he had just a year ago.

This is too fucking hard.

“I can’t do this.” He breaths it out almost all in one word, “I really just.. can’t”

He doesn’t want to disappoint Angel Baby, but if he doesn’t leave now he very well may cause a scene in front of the few stray bystanders loitering in the park. So he sturdiest himself up until he can crouch down, stroking the top of Angel Baby’s head before finishing with a long kiss to the part of her hair.

“Can you stay,” she whines, jutting her lip to really put an emphasis on her begging?, “just 3 more!”

He has to refuse, though he wishes he could just tough it out for her. He can’t though, and while you’re bewildered for a minute, a good look at the expression on his face tells you exactly why he’s in such a rush to book it to his car.

“You can stay,” you insist, to which Angel Baby violently nods in agreement, “and we can walk to the edge of the pond to-“

“I can’t” and now his voice is completely defeated, “(Y/N), I really can’t,”

You let out a defeated, solemn sigh, “Harry we talked about this. It’s not gonna be easy but with time-“

“S’never gonna ease with time,” and now he’s getting up to leave, “m’trying but I just can’t, this is too hard,”

And as excruciatingly hard as it was to play his role in the united family forefront bit, something he used to never have to force, walking away with his back to you was even harder.

This, all of it, is just too fucking hard.

[littlefreya]

Vanilla Milkshake

Summer: Henry and a long time friend hangout at their usual spot when things turn chaotic because of an innocent misunderstanding...

Prompted by:  

 Oooh Freyaaaa I just *need* some scene featuring Henry and ofc drinking milkshake. 

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Unamed OFC (no description of ethnicity or body type).

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: RPF, major fluff, friends to lovers, sexual innuendo, mild seduction, sex talk, an unwanted boner, Henry being a boomer, Henry having a meltdown. 

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own.*

A/N: So, first thing first, thanks @agniavateira for quickly beta’ing my work! And of course thanks @the-soot-sprite for bouncing ideas with me and being an emotional support. Decided to go with friends for lovers because I live for that stuff. Also, I am aware that “Milkshake” can be interpreted in several ways but for the sake of the story I went with that particular reference. Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed.  🖤

Title: Vanilla Milkshake

“I swear, this diner looks like Barbie had an orgasm all over the place.” A whimsical grin sliced between Henry’s marble cheeks. Eyeing the pastel-esque surroundings, he huffed scornfully and adjusted the cap over his nest of unruly curls. 

“Remind me again why we always meet here, young lady?”

Staring at the beastly man who barely managed to squeeze into the plastic-pink faux leather booth, she couldn’t help but chuckle. Henry carried himself with something that was both eloquent yet unmistakably feral, reminding her of a burly forest creature. Sturdy tree trunks stood for limbs, torso, and shoulders—the widths of icy mountains and a blanket of thick fur coated the entirety of his body, deeming him a dangerous bear. 

No wonder he preferred himself clean-shaven. The sharpened edge of a razor kept him a cut away from becoming ‘Henry the Barbarian’. 

Seeing him surrounded by pastel and sparkly fairy dust brought far more joy than she could ever imagine. The utter look of contempt gleamed on the surface of his shifty eyes. 

Oh, by God, how much he hated glitter!

“And what would you know about Barbie’s orgasms?” she teased with a crooked eyebrow and a comical suspicious glare. 

Readjusting his cap over the messy mane of chocolate curls, Henry offered a terrible wink and shrugged, ��a gentleman never tells.”

Her fingers rapped on her thigh while she contemplated whether to allow this naughty joke slide, but then the urge to provoke him was far too great. After briefly chewing on the inside of her cheek, she broke into a wicked grin.

“Is that… like a role play you have with the missus? She’s Barbie, and you’re G.I.Joe? Because I kinda don’t want to hear about it, but then I kinda do.”

Henry’s smile gradually faded along with the playful glee in his eyes, his melancholic gaze dropping to the sparkly table. He slumped into a heavy sigh, “If by missus, you mean ‘Miss Hand’, then no… not really.”

Dumbfounded, she frowned at Henry with confusion when then it struck her; a sense of incredible embarrassment drained the blood from her head to her gut.

“Oh…”

“Yep.” Henry blurted and grabbed the menu, pretending to be incredibly interested in the kids’ meal options. 

Just in time to rescue them from a prolonged awkward silence, the waitress arrived with their order, serving Henry a hot cup of double espresso while she received a tall glass of a luscious vanilla milkshake. 

“Enjoy your drinks, guys!” the waitress smiled sweetly and kept her eyes glued to Henry as she walked away. But the gloss of the waitress’ flirtatious excitement was lost on him; drenched with greed, Henry’s blue sapphires were fixated on the generous scoops of ice cream and the dark chocolate swirls that decorated his companion’s dessert. 

“Henry, my eyes are up here!” she provoked and grabbed the straw between two fingers while throwing an amused glance at his simple cup of coffee. Henry followed her gaze and scoffed before raising the cup to his mouth and blowing to cool his drink.

The way his lips pursed together and his finger stroked the ceramic surface did not escape her observation. A sudden tingle swam down the length of her spine once it resonated in her mind that kind, charming, and beastly Henry was now single. Here they were, long time buddies, but now sitting together felt less comfortable than before. Her limbs felt like pins and needles while staring directly at his eyes was as risky as staring at the sun.  

“Cheers,” Henry mumbled and took a sip from his cup. 

Almost jolting in her seat, she stiffened and then grabbed her straw.

“Cheers.”

Giggles came from the other side of the diner. Among the retro gumball machines and rounded plastic bar stools, the waitress and a colleague leaned against the counter and stared at Henry, who turned his head for a brief moment and tipped his head.

Their giggles turned even louder.

She frowned. 

“So, have you been single for a while?” she heard herself asking with a rather urgent tone. Right away, a look of contrition crept on her face as she regretted her verbal onslaught and lack of sensitivity. 

Henry directed his gaze back to her and watched as she slowly sipped from the milkshake and then suckled the cream off her mouth. 

Absentmindedly, he licked his lips. “Since May. How about you, weren’t you with…?”

“No, ended, dodged a bullet.” she spat and pumped the straw up and down the thick beverage. “My milkshake brings all the boys… except it doesn't.” she sighed.

Henry frowned and shook his head with confusion. “What? You never told me you make your own milkshake. How come I never had some?” 

Her face abruptly froze, her eyes rounded with surprise before she snorted so loudly the waitresses stopped their whispering.

“Umm… Hen?” she called out, trying to hold herself from bursting into chuckles as her friend accidentally asked for a very sexual favour, “you honestly don’t know what ‘milkshake’ is slang for...?”

“Uh…”

“Omg, you’re such a boomer.” 

“No, I was born in ‘83! I’m a millennial. But please, indulge me.” he begged and crossed his arms together.

Clearing her throat loudly, she did her best to fight the wicked grin that stretched on her already painful cheeks and wrapped her fist around the straw. “So you know... how… certain male bodily fluids are sometimes white and creamy...? And when you perform a certain motion it’s like you’re shaking it…?”

Henry blinked and became silent. An unbidden rush of blood pooled at his groin as he watched her thumb graze over the tip of the straw and her fist pumping it into the smooth liquid in a slow, gentle motion. Wickedness glazed her eyes, but he tried to dismiss it as nothing but their usual playful banter; yet his adam’s apple bobbed up and down while his shoulder tensed at the oddly arousing sight of her performing a sinful act on a milkshake. 

There was an unmistakable stir in his cock and for once, he was thankful for narrow spaces as it hid his predicament.

Leaning forward, she opened her mouth and swirled her tongue around the straw. She went deliberately slow, making him watch while she playfully licked and suckled the tip until finally wrapping her lips around it and taking a generous sip.

Henry gawked utterly smitten, unaware that his jaw was nearly at the floor.

And to make things worse, she moaned—not too loud—but definitely enough to make his shaft harden more.

She wasn’t sure what stirred this whimsical boost of confidence, only that seeing the large, handsome man pale at her provocations made her feel like the most powerful woman on earth. She also gathered she’d regret it forever and a day once they’ll part ways, but it was too late for that now.

Gingerly she pulled back, though not before allowing a single drop of cream to trickle down the corner of her lips.

“Oops,” she smirked casually, wiping the cream with her fingertip and sucking it clean. 

“Please stop…” 

It was then when she noticed that Henry’s playful mien was all but gone. Far from amused, he glowered with a clenched jaw. “If you’re going to keep doing that, I’ll have to leave,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

A rush of panic made her freeze in her spot, the same needles that pricked her skin were now setting jolts of electric bursts. “I’m so sorry, I crossed the line,” she said and covered her mouth with shame, “did I offend you? Do you want me to leave?”

“What? No, no, not at all.” Henry’s voice softened right away, and he reached a hand in the air, as if trying to stop her from leaving. The last thing he wanted now is for her to think he is angry with her. If anything, he wished they could spend more time together, not because of his obvious arousal, but because for the first time in a long while, he was having fun.

Still, she looked at him so utterly distraught.  

“Then…?” 

Henry scanned the diner as if trying to make sure no one was staring or taking any photo and then shifted in his seat uncomfortably. His eyes altered between his spread thighs and her several times, trying to signal toward his… trouble.

“Oh...” she gaped. 

An odd sense of pride began to permeate her chest, battling over the burning embarrassment that flamed up her neck and cheeks. At this point, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel, only that it was definitely the most awkward hangout they had to date. 

Problem was, she never knew when to shut up. 

“Is little Henry hungry?”

Hearing those words, his brows dropped to an irritated sulk. “There is nothing little about it.”

“Ha! Prove it!”

It was as if the entire diner and perhaps the world fell into silence. Had the clatter of the dishes being washed in the back kitchen not rung their ears, she would have thought she grew suddenly deaf. 

“I didn’t mean it… sorry, I’ll stop,” she mumbled slowly and pressed her fingers to her mouth while shaking her head at her stupid behaviour. That was it, this was to be the last afternoon she would ever hang out with Henry and right now, she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him.

Henry chewed onto the inside of his cheeks, trying to stop the words that came faster than his thoughts.

“You didn’t?... Because I’ll definitely be up for proving...”

She blinked at his words and tilted her head, hoping that he won’t notice the wild tremors that shook her limbs, “What was that?” 

“I... yes? No?...I… fuck!” 

Henry lowered his head and slapped his palms across his face, rubbing back and forth with an utter meltdown while mumbling, “Forgive me,” a couple of times. He couldn’t care less of what the waitresses or whoever was watching would think of him; all he cared about was to make her feel comfortable around him again and maybe… even make her like him?

“Henry?”

Soft and warm her voice called to him, slowly pulling him from his anguish like a sailor being rescued from a sunken ship. His blue sapphires shone, an ocean of confusion and anxiety still pooling within while he peered back at her face that was now smiling at him a mixture of comfort and exhilaration. 

“Would you like some of my milkshake?”

[heytherejulietx]

43 from the hand hold one with Jasper🥺

Send in some requests.

Jasper Hale - Raising the other’s hand to their lips to kiss it softly.

“Alice!” Y/N yelled, fighting against the smaller girl’s hold, though it was no use. Never in a million years would she be able to get out of a vampire’s grip; though especially not Alice’s. When she wanted something done, it was done.

“Will you stop squirming, I’m not going to kill you.” Alice snapped as she hauled Y/N over her shoulder causing her to scream, before she proceeded to carry her into the Cullen’s household, using her free hand to push open the door.

Y/N knew what she was up to. Alice was trying to get her to go to prom, which she had sworn against doing for ages. She’d told Jasper that they could just go and do something together instead of going to prom. It sounded horrifying; having to dance with her effortlessly elegant boyfriend whilst she stumbled and tripped around, making herself look foolish in front of the entire school and his family. She’d even told Alice hundreds of times that she didn’t want to go, but clearly she wasn’t having it.

“Y/N, what a lovely surprise.”

From where she was dangling over Alice’s shoulder she caught a glance of Carlisle stood by the doorway and glared at the doctor when she could see the amusement over his face.

“Can’t you get her to stop!” Y/N groaned, hitting Alice’s back, though clearly it did nothing to affect her.

“Sorry, we’ve been sworn not to help.” Carlisle held his hands up in surrender and stepped back into the living room, and Y/N cursed as Alice sped up the stairs, finally letting her down into the seat at her vanity.

“I hate you.” Y/N glared at Alice, who started moving around her bedroom to get different beauty products for her.

“No you don’t, you love me,” Alice responded in a sing-song voice as she started brushing through her hair, and Y/N didn’t even bother to make a run for it. She just knew she’d get carried back upstairs until she stayed there. “Besides, you won’t be with me very long. Jasper gets to keep you for the night.”

“Keep me? I’m not his pet.” Y/N rolled her eyes and sunk down in her seat, ignoring Alice’s laugh as she started to pull her hair back into a bun.

After almost a whole hour of Alice using her as a human Barbie doll she finished, walking Y/N over to the floor length mirror that she had on the other side of the room once she had let her step into her prom dress which Alice had bought her and refused to tell her the price of. She had to say, despite her reluctance for Alice to get her ready - and the amount of times she’d tried to duck away from her when she brought a makeup brush near her face, which ended in Alice holding her face still with another glare - she did look somewhat beautiful. Her hair was pulled back into a bun with a few loose strands framing her face, a dark blue flower clip holding it up that matched the colour of the dress she wore; a floor length dress that wasn’t too flashy, though still managed to have some sort of wow factor. Her makeup wasn’t as heavy as she thought Alice had made it, either, with just enough glam to match the style of the dress.

Alice had already gotten ready before she’d gone to kidnap Y/N, so she was stood behind her by the mirror in an equally glamorous dress which only the Cullens would show up to a high school prom in. Sighing Y/N fiddled with the lace of her dress, meeting Alice’s gaze in the mirror.

“You’re going to have fun, Y/N,” Alice told her, and when Y/N opened her mouth to protest she merely rolled her eyes and tapped the side of her head. “I’ve already seen it. I can see the future remember?”

“Thanks Alice.” She grumbled, and Alice tutted as she shook her head.

“I’m going to pretend that wasn’t sarcastic because we need to get going. Your Prince Charming is downstairs waiting for you. And don’t even try to run away, Y/N, because I will carry you the whole way there." Alice threatened, and Y/N believed her. She was scary when she was determined on something.

“I’m not going to run away. There’s no point trying in these stupid heels.” Y/N huffed, looking down at the shoes that could snap her ankle if she wasn’t careful. She’d definitely be holding onto Jasper all night so she wouldn’t fall.

Y/N took one last look at herself in the mirror, almost insecure at the thought of herself in comparison to her boyfriends effortlessly gorgeous family, before she turned and walked out of Alice’s room with the smaller girl right behind her.

Jasper was stood at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her, and how was she supposed to compare to him? He was absolutely flawless, a creature made to be that beautiful, and she was just his plain human girlfriend. She wasn’t even sure what he saw in her really. He was wearing a suit that didn’t even seem to have one crease in it, a dark blue tie that matched the colour of her dress around his collar. Alice must’ve picked it for him.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs she didn’t hesitate before stepping into his open arms, and sighed as she relaxed into the cold embrace. Never did she think that the cold would be so comforting.

“Stop it,” Jasper mumbled into her hairline, and it caused a blush to form over her cheeks when she realised her could feel her insecurity. He let his hands rest on her shoulders and pulled her back enough to look at her, her head having to tilt upwards to see him due to the height difference. “You’re beautiful, darlin’, stop comparing yourself.” Her face was flaming when his cold hand rested on her cheek, and she sighed as she leaned into the stone touch.

“Sorry, it’s kinda hard when my boyfriend looks like he’s been sculpted by the gods and I look like a child’s clay figure.” Y/N mumbled, causing his thumb to tap her cheek in reprimand to her words, shaking his head.

“What did I say?” He raised his eyebrows, and she rolled her eyes, though kept her mouth shut.

His hand left her cheek and not a moment later was he holding a corsage out towards her; the same colour as his tie and her dress. “Y/N,” Jasper started, a slight smirk over his lips as he knew what her answer would he already. “Will you go to the prom with me?”

“It’s not like I have any other choice,” She sighed, though yelped in surprise when Alice was suddenly beside her to pinch her arm. “I mean yes of course.” She corrected, and satisfied with her answer, Alice smiled and was gone again.

Jasper chucked at the interaction as he gently lifted her hand so he could gently slip the corsage into her wrist, securing it gently, before his cold fingers were grasping her’s and he lifted her hand to gently press his cold lips to the soft skin of the back of his hand.

She knew that he was still pretty reserved when it came to physical affection. Hugs he could handle, and gentle touches on her arm and back, though she knew his struggle with bloodlust so she knew that actual kisses were few and far between. Which she really didn’t mind, because touched like that, a kiss to the back of her hand, meant so much more - and sent butterflies fluttering through her stomach and a pink tint to settle over her cheeks.

Jasper must’ve felt the shift in her emotions because he smiled fondly and gave a gentle squeeze to her hand before he let it go again.

“Shall we?” He gestured to the door, which was now open as Alice left the house, sending Y/N a warning look as she did.

“We shall.” Managing a smile she linked her arm with his and allowed him to walk her out of the house towards the Cullen’s many expensive cars, managing to forget about any of her insecurities to just enjoy the night with her boyfriend. And not give Alice a reason to actually kill her.

[shorkbrian]

💖💘my heart’s dizzy and I my dose of serotonin whenever I read your prose🤟🏽😩 was wondering if you could do reader with an erratic future-vision!quirk so when they first meet yandere!Hawks they’re suddenly plagued by erotic, sensual, 365days-level of disturbing visions of them, so reader actively avoids them (it’s like those Tik Tok future-seeing videos playing to “Play Date”)

Prelude - Hawks isn’t a famous pro-hero in this, but he still has his quirk. It’s not really mentioned a bunch tho lol.  This is rlly long, but I decided not to put it into two parts because the smut is so slight lol. Hope this meets your expectations anon, thank you for reading!

Pairing -  Keigo Takami X Reader

Warnings - NSFW mentions, dubcon, noncon. No out-and-out explicit smut, just a really long story. Hawks is manipulative and gets what he wants

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5ukAQcKEIJuzIbP55xp07x?si=iz6I-RoDSdCNYhT2Du8etg

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was a friend of a friend, someone you had only met once or twice.

Your friend kept bringing him to hangouts, he kept showing up on her instagram feed,  getting mentioned in her twitterbio, and eventually it came out that they had started dating. It didn’t catch anyone by surprise.

What did catch you by surprise, was how infatuated with him your friend was.

“He’s just sooooo hot, isn’t he?” She squealed, shoving her phone in your face to show off a shirtless pic he had just sent her.

You nodded in agreement, quickly appraising the pic before turning your head. Yeah, her boyfriend was attractive, but you weren’t one to ruin relationships. Plus, you and Keigo had never really talked past the brief “Hey” and “Wassup?” said in greeting when introduced the first time.

“Can he come to the mall with us on Friday? I promise there will be no third wheeling.” Your friend begged, clasping her hands together. You thought about it for a second - this had been a fun shopping trip the two of you had planned a few weeks ago, meant as a girls date on a day the mall wouldn’t be crowded. But would it really hurt anything if her boyfriend came along? Probably not.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” You shrugged, watching your friends face erupt into a wide grin. “But don’t ditch me to go makeout in a bathroom or something, got it?”

“Sir yes sir!” Your friend faux saluted, before patting you on the shoulder. “Thanks girlie!”

You jerked back, head suddenly swarming with visions, your quirk activating. Your quirk was helpful in some ways, but you mainly tried not to use it - headaches resulted, and you hated getting glimpses of the future. Sometimes they’d be good, but they were often bad - you had gotten a screenshot glimpse of your brothers death, his face marred and bleeding out onto the pavement.

It still made you sick to think about it.

Touch wasn’t something you could always avoid, but you tried, seeing as how it activated your quirk, giving you visions of your future with whomever you touched, or whoever touched you.

You saw your friends face, eyes puffy with tears, shouting something. Then another scene flashed, your friend on TV, talking to a reporter.

Thankfully, the visions ended, this episode relatively quick due to how short of a time she touched you.

“Oh shit, I forgot, I’m so sorry.” She rushed to apologize, holding her hands up and backing away from you.

“It’s-it’s fine.” You wheezed, waving your hand in the air to signal that it wasn’t a big deal. The vision just probably meant the two of you would get into a fight soon, which wasn’t uncommon.  It was fine, you were fine.

——

The mall wasn’t too crowded, which made the day pleasant. Your friend was talking to her boyfriend, hand tangled with his as the three of you walked in.

“So (Y/N), what do you think about that new Victoria’s Secret launch?” Your friend bumped you with her hip, drawing your attention as she pulled you into the conversation between her and her boyfriend.

“Oh, um… what?” To be fair, you had zoned out when the couple started being gross and mushy, which was like, the second your friend met Keigo at the door.

The blonde man laughed. “Victoria’s Secret just launched a new line of lingerie, have any thoughts about it?”

Turning red, you smiled sheepishly. “Ah, well…. From what I’ve seen of their stuff it’s… nice? So I’m sure it’s good.”

Your friend mock-gasped, almost slapping you on the arm before quickly remembering your quirk, drawing her hand back. You gave a quick nod of thanks.

“(Y/N)! Don’t tell me you didn’t even know about it?! I practically live, eat, and sleep Victoria’s Secret, it’s impossible to miss their product drops when you’re one of my friends.”

Unsure how to respond, you floundered, opening and closing your mouth like a lost fish.

“Babe, leave her be, she’s probably just shy.” Keigo stepped in, giving his girlfriend a chuckle as he steered you both towards a shop.

“Fineeee.” Your friend whined, turning to focus on the task ahead. “They have a VS shop here though, you’re not getting out of here without going in with me!”

----

The VS store was huge, smelling sweetly of flowers, bright colors assaulting your vision, soft pop music filling your ears.

It was hard not to cringe at all the fancy lingerie, you were honestly a bit embarrassed to be strolling through the store with your friend, let alone her boyfriend by her side.

“Does-does Keigo mind?” You quietly asked your friend, out of earshot of her boyfriend, who was looking at perfumes, last time you checked.

“Not at all birdie, I’m used to clothes, any form, any shape.”

You whirled around, squeaking in surprise at Keigo, who had apparently finished with browsing the perfume. He was flashing you a 1000 watt grin, continuing with what he was saying. “I’m a model, practically every girl I’ve ever met I’ve seen in less than full underwear, it’s no big deal.”

“Oh…. Cool.” You offered, cheeks turning red again. You felt like such a blushing schoolgirl, turning red when faced with looking at bras and panties, flushing when a man got too close.

It was the nature of the store, you told yourself, that was making you so embarrassed.

“Oo! What do you think of this one?” Your friend was holding up a babydoll, pink, with light fabric and zero coverage.

Keigo wolf whistled. “Man, that’d be a good look for you. Lets buy it.” The couple moved on, pointing at different clothes, your friend occasionally picking one from the rack to hold up against her body, looking for Keigo’s opinion.

They were cute together, laughing over the cheesy names on the tags of the lingerie, holding hands as the browsed, your friend occasionally stopping to plant a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek.

“I think that’s everything that I like…. (Y/N), your turn!” Pulled out of your casual observance, you back pedaled. “Me? No, I’m not really the type to wear this kind of stuff - I don’t even think most of it would fit, I have weird proportions.“

“Nonsense!” Keigo looked around for a moment, going to the nearest rack to quickly sift through bras, before pulling one out. “This one would make all the boys drool over you honey.”

He held it out towards you, shaking it slightly when you hesitated to take it. Was your friend okay with him talking to you like that, pushing underwear at you to buy? A quick glance sideways showed she was more than okay with it, clasping her hands excitedly as she watched you.

The bra was sheer, soft lavender fabric forming the cups, an intricate embroidered detail of flowers dotted haphazardly over the bra. It was pretty, but you weren’t exactly partial to it. When would you wear it? Who would you wear it for? You weren’t sure it was your style. Plus, it probably wasn’t even your size.

“My arm’s gettin’ real tired.” Keigo joked, before you finally took the garment from him. Checking the size, you paused for a second, blinking towards the man.

“How did you-?”

“You spend enough time in the fashion industry, you learn to tell a girl’s size just by looking at her.”  He seemed to puff up, as if he was proud of his bra-sizing skills.

“Let me help her pick out some things too!” Your friend cried, rushing past you to head over to the next rack, ushering you to follow with a wave of her hand.

You ended up with an armful of lingerie - bras, panties,  an odd bustier or two, and some other flowy items, like a sheer robe and a lacy chemise. The choices weren’t exactly made by you, more so made by a combination of your friend and Keigo together. They had alternated holding up items towards your body, comparing color and garment cuts, lost in their own mushy-gushy world, and it was almost like you didn’t exist for a few moments, nothing more than a barbie doll to dress up.

But now the three of you stood in line to checkout, and you felt included again, your friend cracking jokes that were making you snort, Keigo watching the two of you interact.

Until your friend accidentally brushed against your arm as she shifted forward in line.

Again, you saw her tearful face, heard her sobbing, before the other scene flashed, of her on TV, talking to the reporter. She still looked upset, eyes rimmed red, nose running, hair a mess.

With a gasp, your vision returned to the present, and you were wobbling on your feet, almost falling.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry (Y/N), I’m so so sorry. Here, let me take that, go sit down by the entrance.” She fussed over you, face concerned as she carefully took the stack of clothes from your arms, making sure to not make contact.

“Oh fuck, is she alright?” You heard Keigo ask, your friend stepping in front of you as he moved forward to check on you.

“Yeah, she’s just feeling a little dizzy. Can you make sure she doesn’t fall and crack her head open? Just wait by the entrance please.”

“Okay. Oh, here-“ You were a bit dazed, but you saw Keigo fish his wallet out of his pocket, thrusting the entire thing into his girlfriends hands before patting her on the shoulder “Whichever card is fine.”

And then you were stumbling towards the entrance, towards the bench right outside.

You hated seeing the future. Why was your friend crying? What had happened to elicit such a reaction? The unknowns killed you, kept you up at night as you tried to puzzle out the events that could lead up to the scenes from your visions.

Not looking where you were going, you tripped on air, unable to catch yourself as you plummeted towards the ground.

But then you were seeing Keigo.

He was above you, face flushed and sweaty, hair tousled, his chest bare. The room was dark, barely lit, and he was so close. The man leaned down to kiss you, then the scene changed.

You were bent over a table, only able to see the solid wood your face was smushed against. There was a heat in your belly, a tingling between your thighs, and pressure. Someone was talking - Keigo, muttering behind you angrily. You head was pulled up, a hand fisted in your hair, and then one of your knees was pushed up onto the table, and the pressure inside exploded into pure pleasure.

You felt yourself screaming, bucking your hips as you suffered through whatever the feeling was.

The scene changed again.

Hands tied above your head, you were pressed against a wall, sitting on some kind of…. Saddle? Your legs couldn’t touch the ground, and you squirmed, before gasping loudly.

There was a nub in the seat, ribbed and textured, slick with some kind of liquid… From you? Then you saw Keigo, standing in front of you, smirking at you with hardened eyes.

He had something in his hand, arms crossed over his chest while he fiddled with the object, muscles flexing. He was shirtless again, and-and his cock was hanging out of his sweatpants, pressed against his belly, smearing precum over his skin.

You tried to say something, anything - the visions never lasted this long, it was too intense, there was so much sensation. But your mouth wouldn’t move, choked up.

Keigo’s hand was on his length, rubbing slowly, saying something that didn’t reach your ears.

The scene changed.

Something was shoved down your throat, warm and twitching. You were sobbing, choking, clawing at whatever was in front of you. A dark laugh filled your ears, and you opened your eyes, met with the clenching abs of a strong stomach.

Keigo was brushing your tears, no, smudging them over your face. Were you wearing makeup? His cock was sitting in your throat, his hips moving in tiny jerks, stabbing your esophagus, making you gag.

Then you were back in the present.

A hand was holding your arm, keeping you from falling and making contact with the hard floor.

“-N)? (Y/N)? Are you okay? Talk to me birdie”

You made a panicked noise, pulling yourself out of Keigo’s grip so fast that you fell flat on the floor, scrambling backwards away from the man.

He almost looked scared, confused as he followed after you, holding out his hands. “(Y/N), you gotta calm down, you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

The man reached for your arm again and you pressed yourself against the floor, screeching out a loud “No!!” before he could touch you. Keigo paused, looking at his hand, then at you. “Hey, hey, I’m not gonna touch you. It’s okay little birdie, you’re alright.” He cooed, sinking to his knees in front of you.

You were hyperventilating, wide eyes trained on Keigo. Your thoughts were swirling in your head, you couldn’t focus, the sensations of the future still echoing through your body.

Keigo crouched there while you steadied your breathing, talking to you the entire time, trying to help you relax and calm down. You weren’t sure what he was saying, something about the weather? Or a dog? But you could feel your breathing evening out, head clearing.

“Hey, she fall?” You friend was carrying two bags, crouching down beside Keigo, cocking her head at you.

Her boyfriend nodded, turning to her and taking one of the bags. “I caught her, but then she freaked out and fell for real.”

Your friend nodded. “I should’ve told you earlier, she has a touch-based quirk. Every time someone touches her, she sees snippets of her future with that person.”

Keigo cocked his own head, gazing at you curiously. “I guess her future with me isn’t too positive then?”

Your friend shrugged. “Eh, she just hates seeing parts of the future. She doesn’t want to know what’s going to happen, makes her worry or something like that. Don’t take it too personally, she’s like that with everyone.”

“It-it-“ you rasped out, causing both sets of eyes to swivel towards you. “-I hate it... because-‘cause I can’t ever cha-change it.” You shivered.

Keigo nodded in understanding, before rising to his feet. “Think you can walk to my car? I’ll drive you two home, I think you’d benefit from some rest.”

He dropped you off at your apartment, and you wearily waved at the couple as they drove off, before heading inside.

----

A week passed, then two.

The visions you had concerning Keigo were plaguing your mind, filling your body with anxiety. There had been a distinctive feel of fear during each one, and despite all the other various sensations felt, the most overwhelming had been distress.

Whatever was going to happen, you weren’t going to like it.

You were holing up in your apartment, ignoring your roommates when they knocked on your door, only leaving your room to eat or grab water. You couldn’t sleep, too scared you’d have dreams, or more accurately, nightmares of what you had seen.

Curse your quirk.

Trying to pass time, desperate to keep your mind off of the future, you threw yourself into any activity you could find.

First you tried coloring - it was supposed to be relaxing, but it gave you too much time to think.

Then you tried gaming, spending hours in front of your computer mashing the keys. That worked for a bit, but your eyes and head soon protested.

You listened to music at full volume, tried several workout videos, even resorted to cleaning your space with fervent energy.

None of it took your mind off the inevitable.

“(Y/N), someone’s at the door asking for you.” You jerked awake, slumped over uncomfortably on the floor, the half finished card tower in front of you promptly knocked over at your erratic movements.

“(Y/N)?” Your roommate called again.

“Yeah! Coming, sorry.” You mumbled, scrubbing sleep from your eyes. You guess your body would give out sometime and force you to fall asleep, but as you moved to stand, you sorely wished your body had chosen a more comfortable place to pass out.

Opening the front door, you immediately took a cautious step back, sleepy demeanor vanishing.

Keigo smiled at you, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other holding a bouquet of flowers.

Flowers?

“Hey birdie, mind if I come in?”

You stared at him for a second, immediately on guard. Why did he have flowers? Why did he want to come in? Wasn’t he dating your friend? She didn’t live here, what was he doing here?

The man cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at you. You moved to the side, holding open the door for Keigo to come inside.

Your roommates were home. If anything happened, they would be within earshot.

Keigo shot you a smile and a thanks, before immediately moving into the small living room, taking a seat on the couch. When he saw you still hovering by the open door, he patted the cushion beside him.

“Come sit, I promise I don’t bite.” He thought for a moment, before grinning. “Well, not unless you want me to.”

Hesitantly, you shut the front door, going to sit in a ratty armchair further away from the winged man. If this bothered him, the man didn’t let it show other than a short pause before he spoke.

“So, I know it probably seems like, super weird for me to show up at your apartment, but hear me out.”

Flowers were shoved in your lap, Keigo taking great care to avoid touching you.  “I felt bad about the other day, and my girl and I decided that we should get you some flowers. She picked ‘em out, it even says so on the note.”  The man laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s so uptight about this kinda stuff. Anyways, just wanted to say that I’m sorry for grabbing you like that. If I had known, I would’ve let you fall flat on your ass. But I know now, so I’ll be better, cool with you?”

Finishing his little speech, Keigo held out his hands, wings stretching behind him to mimic the gesture.

Looking at the flowers in your lap, you felt your hands shaking. Picking up the little note attached to the bouquet, you found that your friend had indeed picked out the flowers, which made sense. They were your favorites, and in a nice color too.  Keigo had left a messy, scrawled “Sorry!” in one corner, before signing by his girlfriends name.

“Um, thank you Keigo, you didn’t have to apologize.” You murmured, rubbing one of the flower petals between your fingers. You were so glad your quirk extended solely to humans - if you were shown glimpses of the future of everything you touched, you would most likely go mad.

“Nah, I wanted to. Also wanted to swing by, check how you’re doing. You been taking care of yourself?” He relaxed on the couch, legs spread, arms resting behind his head. This wasn’t his home, yet you totally could believe that it was by the ease with which he owned the space with his presence.

“Oh, well… I’m still here, so…” You shrugged.

Keigo frowned. “That’s not a fun answer. How much sleep you been gettin’ each night? Eight hours?”

You shook your head, huffing out a breath in place of a laugh.

Keigo clicked his tongue. “No sleep? That’s bad for you y’know. Have you at least been drinking water? Eatin’?”

You nodded quickly, looking up to meet the man’s gaze. “I’m not a kid. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary.”

At this point, you think the best thing for your health would be for the man to leave.

The blonde man stared at you for a moment, before sighing. “Alright, I get it. But I don’t want to hear that you’ve passed out or something, got it? Your friend would kill me.”

He rose to his feet, and so did you, walking him to the door. “Thanks Keigo, and thank you again for the flowers. That was very sweet of you both.”

Keigo beamed, giving a two fingered salute. “You deserve it birdie. Well, have a good rest of your day, yeah? Eat something.”

You smiled, at Keigo as he turned away, beginning to whistle as he strolled down the hall.

Once the door was shut, you found a vase for the flowers, filling it with water and setting it on the table. Your roommates would think it was pretty, and it was, a nice little centerpiece.

That really was nice of your friend and Keigo to offer you flowers.

——

“Welcome to Gold Nile Jewelers, how can I-“ You blinked at the man entering the shop. “-Keigo.”

“Birdie? You work here?” He looked just as confused as you felt, cocking his head to the side as he approached the counter.

You looked around the small display room, nodding your head. “Yep… You looking for anything specific today?”

“Ah, right!” He clasped his hands together, bending over to lean on the display counter as he looked up at you. “So professional (Y/N), it’s just me.” The man chuckled.

“Actually, I thought I’d get my girl a cute little bracelet or something like that, you think she’d like that?”

Knowing your friend, she’d be ecstactic. “Oh, absolutely. Any particular occasion, or just an “I love you gift”?” You asked, already running through the list of bracelets in stock.

“It’s our two month anniversary in another week, thought I’d get her a little sumn’ sumn’, y’know?”

Gold Nile Jewelers was an expensive store. You patted yourself on the back for not dropping your jaw when he said “two month anniversary”. People came here for wedding rings and special occasion jewelry, not monthly anniversaries like some high schoolers.

Well, unless they were rich.

You showed Keigo the selection of bracelets currently available, the man listening quietly to your product descriptions and recommendations, asking questions about the fit and feel, and if you think your friend would like a particular one.

“Honestly Keigo, I could choose one I think she’d like, but it’d be more special if you chose for her.” You finally told him.  He wasn’t annoying you, but you felt frustrated with his apparent lack of knowledge about his girlfriend. How did he not know what her favorite color was? “I’d suggest coming back in a few days. Go home, see what kind of jewelry she wears, pay attention to the colors she gravitates towards, if she’s allergic to any metals.”

Keigo tapped his chin. “Hmm, you have a good point. I guess I should pay more attention to those kinds of things.”

You nodded as you began to pack the expensive bracelets back into their display cases. “Gifts for a significant other can be hard. Honestly, it means a lot if they pick it out themselves and surprise you with it. Makes it special.”

“Oh, you have a partner?” Keigo asked, bright eyes watching your hands work.

A frown almost crossed your features, but you stopped it before it could show. “Ah, sorry, that’s not really a work-appropriate question.”

“Awh, c’mon! It’s just me, we’re friends, can’t you tell me?” Keigo pouted, batting his eyelashes at you in an exaggerated, dramatic fashion. The display made you laugh, so you indulged him. After all, he was a friend. No harm in telling him something he was bond to know sooner or later.

“I’m actually single right now. But as a jeweler sale associate, I know how much it means to a person when their partner picks out a gift for them, especially if it’s a surprise.”

Keigo nodded his head solemnly.  “That makes sense. I better follow your advice then eh? Find out what she likes-“ he mused “-I can do that.”

“Good luck Keigo!” You called after him as he strolled through the door, waving when he smiled at you, giving that same, goofy two fingered salute that he always did when saying goodbye.

The man unnerved you, the visions you had experienced concerning him making you worry. But as long as he was dating your friend, you felt that you’d be fine.

-----

Keigo showed up again two days later.

“Back so soon?”

“You know me-“ He shook out his umbrella, placing it in the drip-bin by the door, wiping his shoes on the mat. “I always try to be speedy with my work.”

It was grey outside, drizzling slightly. You loved these kinds of days, where you could sit near a window and watch it rain while sipping tea. It was so peaceful and calm, and always soothed your stress.

“Find out anything useful?” Whatever he could tell you would make it easier to refine the jewelry selection for his particular needs.

“So, she doesn’t have any bracelets, and I asked her about why and she said they annoy her. She likes necklaces.” He clarified,. You could tell by the way he puffed up that he felt proud of his detective skills. “I even made a note of the lengths - she likes ones that dip low, which-“ He wolf whistled, and your stomach turned. But it was fine, just awkward.

“Alright, I think we have quite a few like that. Let me collect them for you and lay them out.”

Keigo strolled around the display room while you bustled about, looking in each case at the shiny metals and stones  

You laid out the necklaces, calling Keigo over. The man smiled brightly at you as you showed him the selection, noticing he was gravitating towards the more simply, elegant choices.

“I’m sure she would be thrilled with any of these.” You offered, Keigo silent as he tried to decide between two necklaces.

Still, the man shook his head, quirking his lips. “I just…. I need to see them on, y’know?” Then he brightened, as if he had just thought of something. “Hey, can you try them on? Model one for me? Just to see what it’d look like.”

You laughed nervously. “Sorry Keigo, but I’m not allowed to do that, it’s against company policy. Only customers get to try on the jewelry, and that’s if they’re supervised.”

“Awh, c’mon! No one else is here, and I won’t tell.” The man leaned forward, shooting you a quick wink before he snatched up one of the necklaces, holding it out towards you. “Please? I just need to see it. I promise I’ll buy it.”

He was so insistent, and no matter how loud the alarm bells were wringing in your head, you felt cowed by his confidence.

“Um, still… I don’t think it’s allowed-“

“Fuck what’s allowed-“ He cut you off, snorting. “-I want to see what it looks like. It’s just me (Y/N), I’m not gonna snitch.”

A heavy sigh, and you finally agreed, taking the necklace from his nimble fingers.  You slung it around your neck, not fastening the back as you held it in place. Hopefully that would be enough to sate Keigo’s curiosity.

His eyes immediately followed the curve of the necklace, how it dipped low towards your cleavage (curse you for wearing a lower-cut shirt today). You tried to ignore the leering.

“Here, let me help you fasten it, doesn’t look right otherwise.”

Before you could protest, he was sliding behind you, deft hands reaching for the necklace your had in your grasp.

“Keigo no-!”

But it was too late.

You were pressed up against a wall, face-first, your hands gathered into the small of your back and held there with a vice-like grip. There was pressure between your legs, something hammering into you, in and out, in and out, in and out.

Keigo was talking to you, you could tell it was the man by his voice. What was he saying? You were too overwhelmed with the sensation between your legs to focus on the words falling from his lips.

Sweat dripped from your temples, Keigo’s chest pressed up against your back was slick with perspiration, his nipples hard and pressing into your skin. It was an uncomfortable situation-

And then it changed.

You were tied up now, tight enough that you couldn’t move no matter how you thrashed. Knees bound in such a way so your ass was up in the air, arms stretched out in front of you, anchored to the headboard of the bed.

Keigo was behind you again - nothing to indicate that the tongue running through your core was his, but somehow, you knew.

You were begging and pleading, withing in your restraints against his tongue, but he wouldn’t let up, he wouldn’t let you crest the mountain that had built up inside. He kept chuckling, the vibrations running through you and making you buck your hips. You felt disgusting.

Then the bed was gone, and Keigo was in front of you. He was sitting in an office chair, your legs straddling his lap. Hands on your hips were dragging you back and forth, grinding you on the hard member protruding from Keigo’s lap. He was flushed, letting out little moans as he kept eye contact with you, smiling and praising you.

Then you were back.

Gasping, you shot away from Keigo, the expensive necklace clattering to the ground as it fell from your hands.

The man froze, confusion etched across his features as he watched you bend over, trying to catch your breath, to calm down, to ignore the lingering sensations from the futuristic visions.

“(Y/N)…”

“I think-I think you should leave.” You heaved, tears building. That had been awful, everything had felt good but you hadn’t. You felt uncomfortable and disrespected and stupid. That couldn’t be your future with Keigo, you wouldn’t be able to handle that. He was your friend’s boyfriend, for goodness sake!

Keigo opened his mouth to say something, but you snapped at him “Leave.”, making the man click his jaw shut.

He walked out the door, shooting you concerned glances the entire way.

You felt better as soon as he was gone, the door clicking shut after him. Thankfully, you were the only employee out front at the moment, and no other customers were present, so no one but you and Keigo had experienced your outburst.

Bending down to pick up the necklace, you inspected it carefully, horrified that you had dropped such an expensive item. It was alright though, so you brought it back to the others, shakily beginning to gather them up to put away.

You didn’t want to see Keigo again.

——-

“I just don’t understand!”

Your friend sobbed, surrounded by tissues on your bed, eyes red and blotchy.  You wished you could rub her back, our give her a hug, but you knew what would happen. So you stayed on the floor, passing up tissues and offering wordless sympathy.

“Why would he break up with me? Why?”

You shrugged, looking for words. “I don’t know… I’m sorry that this happened, but if he can’t see how awesome you are, then he’s an idiot.”

She sniffed, blowing her nose. You could tell she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t say anything further, instead choosing to wipe her eyes.

She had called an hour or so ago, tearful, asking if she could come over. Refused to tell you what was wrong, but the second you let her in, she had burst into tears, explaining everything.

Keigo had broken up with her via text, that asshole.

“I just…. I thought we were good. Did I do something wrong? I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I. You said he just texted you out of the blue?”

She nodded her head, going to blow her nose again. “We were supposed to go out for dinner tomorrow, it’s our two month anniversary.”

You cringed. Did your encounter with Keigo in the jewelry store have something to do with this? Had you driven your friend’s boyfriend away? Had you weirded him out? Oh god, what if this was all your fault?

Your friend broke down into a sob again, slumping onto your bed. You passed her another tissue. “It’ll be okay. I think he’s a stupid fucker that just wanted to play with your heart.  He isn’t worth shit. You deserve so much better than him.”

She nodded, blotchy eyes seeking out your own. In the back of your mind, you cringed, seeing the exact same scene from your vision. Well, at least the two of you hadn’t gotten in a fight.

——-

A few weeks later, Keigo was at your door.

“You need to leave. Now.”

“Aw, c’mon (Y/N), at least hear me out?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Maybe he had a dumb explanation for why he had dumped your friend. You were wary of him accidentally touching you again though. “Fine, but make it quick.”

“No promises.” He grinned, breezing past you and into your apartment. He beelined for the chair you had sat in last time he was here, leaving you to take a seat on the couch.

“Alright-“ He settled in, fixing you with a gleeful eye. “How do you feel about your quirk?”

Caught off guard, you blinked. Wasn’t he going to explain why he had broken your friend’s heart? “Um, what?”

“Your quirk, y’know, the one that makes you see the future?” He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together with a smile. He seemed far too pleased, and it made you nervous.

“I hate it. If I could get rid of it, I would.” You stated, ready to move onto a different topic. But just as you were about to ask him about your friend, he rose to his feet, fishing in his pockets.

He drew out a bracelet, black and red, thin. “Well then, lookie what I have.” The man walked over, sitting down quickly on the couch next to you, causing you to immediately scoot to the end. You didn’t want him touching you.

“Oh, sorry.” He apologized upon noticing your unease. Instead of scooting closer, he simply tossed the bracelet onto your lap, leaning back as he watched you look at it curiously. “Put it on, see how it fits.”

“I don’t need jewelry Keigo, and I think we should be spending our time discussing why you bro-“

“Just put it on (Y/N), please? I promise you won’t regret it.”

Huffing, you did as he asked, clasping the bracelet around your wrist. It fit snug, almost too tight, but it hugged your wrist comfortingly. It was pretty, but you didn’t see what this had to do with your quirk, or with your friend, or anything that held any relevancy.

Bracelet now on, you fixed Keigo with a blank stare. “Happy?”

“I don’t know.” Keigo grinned. “Are you?” And then he was hugging you, arms wrapped around your shoulders, face buried in your neck.

You shrieked, already panicking as you tried to ready yourself for the onslaught of  visions that accompanied physical touch.

They never came.

Choking back a surprised gasp, you drew back from his hug to find Keigo’s eyes, the man smiling down at you as he watched your reaction.

“Kei-Keigo…” You stuttered, shocked, surprised, euphoric, confused - so many emotions, all at once. You couldn’t even think to brush off the hands still around your shoulders, thumbs brushing at the tops of your exposed collarbones by the neck of your shirt.

You weren’t able to think rationally, couldn’t focus on anything but the awe you felt at being touched without being slammed with visions of the future.

You forgot about the terrifying visions you had gotten when Keigo touched you.

You forgot about how he had hurt your friend, broke her heart with no explanation.

You forgot about his hands refusing to leave your body.

“Keigo, this is…. Amazing” You breathed, wide eyes snapping up, catching his smiling face, eyes crinkly and twinkly.

“I had my team modify some quirk-cancelling cuffs! You seemed so upset whenever someone touched you, I couldn’t leave you with such a burden.”

Nodding, you returned your gaze to the bracelet, turning your wrist this way and that to look at the bracelet from different angles.

“I mean, I know how much I like being touched, and touching. I think I’d totally die if I couldn’t.” Keigo chuckled, but you weren’t listening.

The rest of his time sitting next to you on the couch was spent explaining the colors he had spent so long picking (“They’re my personal favorite, aren’t they nice?”) and why he had decided on a bracelet (“It could’ve been a necklace, but I think it looks better in it’s original cuff design, looks cooler that way.”).

By the time he had to leave, you were completely sidetracked, so distracted with your shiny new jewelry that you didn’t even remember to ask what his deal was with being a jerk to your friend, his now ex-girlfriend.

-----

“-and then he gave me the bracelet. I wasn’t thinking much after that, I just… I can hug you, isn’t that incredible?”

You gave your friend another squeeze, feeling a smile dance across your face. But then you sobered, pulling back from her with your hands on her shoulders, quickly becoming serious.

“But he’s really starting to kind of weird me out. Why won’t he explain why he broke up with you? He’s being a little bitch. I tried asking him a couple times, but he kept cutting me off, and I feel like the bracelet was a distraction to stop me from busting his chops about his behavior towards you.”

Your friend looked sad for a second, before shrugging. “I dunno, he just said things weren’t working out, and that while he liked me, he’s not ready for a relationship right now ‘cause of where he’s at in his life.”

“Psh-“ You scoffed, going in for another comforting squeeze for your friend. “-that’s code for “I’m a fuckboy and want to sleep around”.”

“I know….. But it still hurts.” You friend sighed, wrapping her arms around your neck. “But at least he gave you that quirk thing. I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“I just wish he was a mildly decent person.” You grumbled, detaching from the hug to sit back, glaring at the ceiling. “He gives me the fucking creeps.”

“How so?” You friend locked her head to the side, throwing her arm over the back of the couch. You had called her over the second Keigo had left, finally gathering your wits about you.

“I dunno…” You shrugged, not quite ready to tell her about the disturbing visions containing him. Did that have something to do with their breakup? Was it your fault? What was going to happen with Keigo? It honestly scared you, the residual feelings and sensations you could remember from the visions.

Your friend nodded understandingly. “Some people just give off those vibes. Well, at least we don’t ever have to see him again. Good riddance I say.”

You agreed.

——-

Knocking on the door, you shuffled your feet as you took in the house.

It was one of those rich places - nice neighborhood, fancy street filled with lavish houses, expensive cars. You felt slightly out of place, shifting from foot to foot in your clearance-rack clothes.

The door swung open, revealing a sleepy Keigo, shirtless, clad in nothing but sweatpants.

“Oh, um-“ You quickly turned, averting your eyes, trying to give the man privacy in case he hadn’t realized he was shirtless. It looked like he had just woken up from a nap, eyes blinking owlishly, hair mussed.

“Hey (Y/N), come on in.”

Still keeping your eyes turned away, you stepped inside the opulent house, trying not to gape too much at the decor inside. You didn’t want to look like a complete peasant in front of Keigo, but he’d already been to your house, so you could imagine that he knew of your poor-ness.

“Something wrong? You can look at me y’know, I’m not gonna turn you to stone or something.” Keigo joked, voice entirely too close for comfort.

Head whipping around, you found that he was too close, practically almost touching you as he stood beside you, head cocked as he watched you.

“No… nothings wrong, you’re just…” You gestured to his torso, and Keigo looked down in confusion, before looking back at you, a grin on his face.

“Ah, just woke up.” He shrugged, before reaching out to touch your arm. “Bracelet still keeping that quirk at bay?”

You nodding, following the blonde as he turned and walked further into his house, towards the kitchen.

“Glad to hear! I just wanted to look at it a bit, make sure nothing’s worn or torn, y’know? Hate for you to have to deal with the no-touching thing again.” He said over his shoulder, gesturing for you to sit down at the island, on one of the barstools.

You did so, watching the man open his fridge, take out a carton of milk, uncap it. “Is it too tight?”

“Nope.”

He drank right out of the bottle, and you watched some dribble out of the corner of his mouth, down his chin. The man finished gulping down the milk, taking the bottle away from his lips to swipe at the white trail of liquid rolling down his chin.

Eyes dark, he made contact with your own eyes as he cleaned his chin with a finger, stuffing it in his mouth to suck it clean.

That was gross.

The next second, he was back to normal, cheerfully putting the milk back into the fridge. “Good, good. Now, mind if I take a look at it? You should keep it on though.”

You nodded, and Keigo straightened, walking around the island to sit next to you, shuffling his stool closer.

He grabbed your wrist, laying it out on the island, before beginning to poke at the bracelet, running his fingers over it, fiddling with it, squeezing the tendons in your hand, smoothing his hand up your arm.

It felt a bit intrusive.

“So the visions are all blocked?”

“Yep.”

“And you can touch and be touched?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s your appetite? Sometimes complete quirk suppression can make you lose your appetite.”

“It’s been normal, I guess I’m a little hungrier than normal, but I’ve been getting out more too, not as afraid of crowds.”

“Nice! And how about your libido?”

You spluttered, choking on your own spit, snatching your hand away from Keigo’s wandering touches.

“Excuse me? That’s a bit personal, thanks.”

Keigo shrugged, bright eyes hooded and lazy. “It’s just a question.”

“Are you done making sure it’s all good? No broken parts?” You changed the subject, narrowing your eyes. You can’t believe your friend had ever dated him, that you had ever thought he was anything but a playboy.

You wouldn’t even be here, in his house, but he had come into the jewelers a while back (both you and your friend had blocked his number), spouting something about your bracelet needing constant checks and maintenance in order to keep suppressing your quirk. (“Wouldn’t want it to stop working, right? Just stop by sometimes, here’s my address.”).

So here you were.

Keigo leaned back a little, raising an eyebrow at your irritated tone of voice. “Woah there, don’t get snippy. I’m doing you a favor, right? I’m not trying to hurt you or something.”

Technically, you guess he was right. But he had played your friend, had fucked with her feelings. He was a fuckboy, liked messing with each and every girl he could find, and you didn’t care to be one of them.

“And I appreciate that Keigo. But I like to keep my private life private.”

Keigo was silent, simply holding out a hand for you to place your arm in, so he could fiddle more with the bracelet.

Several moments of awkward silence passed before he spoke again. “You’re being awfully ungrateful. It makes me think you don’t even want this little gift. If I were you, I’d be doing everything I could to show the person kind enough to do such a thing for me how thankful I was.”

Lost for words, you stared at the man. Was he expecting some sort of award? Some sort of prize? It’s not like you had anything to give him.

“I don’t have anything to give you in thanks. Just my words, which I’ve said plenty of. I didn’t ask you to make this for me.” You pointed out.

“Sure, but you use it, don’t you? You wouldn’t like it if I took it away, right? Think about how miserable your life was before I gave you this.”

Your life had been miserable. Afraid to go out in crowds, afraid to leave the house, Nervous about grocery shopping, about paying and having the cashier touch your hand as they handed over the change.

Scared of public transportation, of coffeeshops and bookstores, of public parks, even your own home. What if one of your roommates forgot and touched you? Or accidentally bumped into you?

Plus, you could hug now, and shake hands, and slap your friends back when she told a horrible joke, or tap her when you wanted her attention.

You didn’t want to go back to before. “I’m sorry Keigo… I really do think it’s lovely, and I can never thank you enough for doing this for me.”

Keigo let go of your arm, and it swung back to your side. You could feel the man looking at you.

“You know what would let me know that you mean it?”

God, it better not be something sexual.

“You could buy me coffee. Or maybe a cookie from that bakery on 1st Avenue, you know the one? With the little bunny pastries?”

That surprised you.

“You go there? That’s my favorite place.” You mused, looking at Keigo in surprise. He didn’t seem the kind of guy who’d like a place like that. But appearances could be deceiving.

“Of course! I really like their stuff.”

“Alright,” You conceded, rising to your feet. “I’ll get you some stuff from there. Want it today?”

Keigo rose to his feet as well, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Yeah! Let me get dressed real quick, and then I’ll go with you. Don’t go anywhere birdie.” He shot you a wink, before sauntering past you, out of the kitchen.  You raised a brow, surprised. He meant to go with you?

“Make yourself at home while you wait, don’t be afraid to kick up your feet!”  

——-

The bakery smelled as lovely as usual.

A warm atmosphere, good food, friendly employees. It was your favorite place for a reason.

“Alright, what do you want?” You asked Keigo, the two of you staring up at the menu.

“Hmm, I don’t know. What are you going to get?”

“Probably a muffin, those are my favorite.”

“What!?! That’s my favorite too! How crazy.” Keigo smiled at you, dimples showing. You got the feeling that he was brown-nosing you, but you kept the thought to yourself, striding up to the counter to order.

Muffins purchased, you approached Keigo, who was lounging by one of the display cases, admiring the delicate, mouthwatering masterpieces held within.

“All good to go?” His smile was so charming, so friendly, you almost caught yourself wanting to see it more. Huffing in irritation at yourself, you pushed past him, shoving the bag with his muffin into his chest.

“Here’s your stuff. I’m going home now, see you around.”

“Wait!” Keigo turned, jogging a little to catch up as you exited the bakery. “We gotta eat these before they get cold - hey, birdie, are you listening to me?“

You weren’t, stoically keeping your head turned forward, walking with determination. There was only so much of Keigo that you could tolerate, and you had reached your limit. He was starting to really annoy you, didn’t he get that you wanted to go home? You’ll just eat your muffin on the subway, it’s not that hard.

“(Y/N)-“ His sudden growl was punctuated by an arm on your shoulder, spinning you around and pulling you towards the man.

“Hey-!” The sudden collision of your face with his chest knocked your breath away, almost causing you to drop your own muffin in the process.

When you managed to gather yourself, you shot a glare up at Keigo’s face, only to find the blonde smirking down at you, a fierce glint in his eyes.

“I expect you to listen when I’m talking, got it? I don’t like being ignored.”

That’s evident.

You tried to back away, but he still had a hand on your shoulder, squeezing you tight to him. “Keigo! Let me go, you stupid idiot-“

“Stop it, I’m not doing anything to you, ya big baby.” He cooed down at you, before taking his hand away, letting you stumble backwards.

He was just messing with you, teasing you. It was obvious, yet still you allowed him to be around you.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I know all the touching’s gotta be new still. Wanna go eat these in the park? I’ll buy you some ice cream if you want.”

“I don’t want ice cream, I want to go home.”

Keigo frowned, walking after you when you turned on your heel, heading for the subway. “Why do you dislike me so much? I’ve done so much to help you, and yet you spit in my face. Your parents ever teach you how to be grateful? Or even respectful?”

You gasped at his accusation, stopping in your tracks to whirl around, only to find the man far closer than what you had expected. Still, you tried to hide your surprise at his proximity, jabbing a finger in his direction.

“You are a playboy, you broke my friend’s heart, and you want to sleep with every single person you come across just to mess with their feelings. I don’t want to be around you. I won’t get dragged into that.”

The man watched you, face solemn and contemplative. “Is that really how you see me?”

“Why would I say any of that unless it was true?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking up and around, as if gathering his bearings, before back down at you.

“Have you ever considered that I’m the one getting my heart broken?”

“Yeah right-“ You scoffed, only for Keigo to cut you off.

“People want to sleep with me because they think it’ll get them something that they want. Fifteen second fame, a piece in a tabloid about my “new lover”…. Think it’ll help them further their career, or that I’ll give them money. I can’t find anyone real.

“And my friend wasn’t real enough for you?” You spat, not believing him for a second.

“Nope.  You think she liked me for who I am?”

“Uh, yeah? She gushed to me all the damn time about how good you were, how she felt about you. That girl held nothing but love and affection for you.”

The man snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure, love for my wallet.”

“She’s not like that.” You argued, brows furrowing.

“Really? Cause she was sucking me dry, and not even in a sexy way.”

You crinkled your nose at what he was implying. Your friend wasn’t like that, she truly had felt for Keigo, had liked him as her boyfriend. She wasn’t just a leech.

“I’m done talking about my failed love life.” Keigo said lowly, nudging your shoulder. “I just thought two friends could hangout, but it seems like you think all I do is try and fuck people.”

“No, Kiego…. That’s not what I meant.” Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but right now…. You almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

Some of what he was saying made sense, how people would try and use him for various reasons. But that still didn’t explain his sudden and harsh breakup with your friend. And over text no less, a complete douche move!

But you felt bad about his words, about how he seemed to actually want to hangout, and yet you were accusing him of trying to sleep with you. But what about those visions you had had? Was that even how they went? Or were you remembering falsely based on your bias towards the man?

And what about his suggestive touches, his leering gaze? Was that maybe just how he always was, and it wasn’t exclusive to you? Were you inflating your place in his life, thinking that he wanted you?

It was confusing, and you didn’t want to think about it, try and untangle the lies from the truth. Right now, you just wanted to eat your muffin.

“If you really didn’t mean it, then can we go eat these in the park? I just want to chill with someone that isn’t trying to gain something from me. I want to spend time with someone that’s real.”

With a half-irritated sigh, you nodded, hoping you wouldn’t regret hanging out with the obnoxious man.

-----

He kept calling you, texting you. You’d had to unblock his number at some point, in order for him to text you about the bracelet and when he needed to look at it.

“Come overrrrr, I’m bored!”

“Birdie, are you hungry? The delivery place gave me extra Torikatsu and I don’t want it to go bad. Can I come drop it off?”

He’d swing by the jewelers, leaning over the counter to talk to you about a recent shoot he’d booked, or something he saw recently.

Keigo seemed to slowly insert himself into every facet of your live, against your will, ignoring every subtle, irritated attempt of yours to turn him away. Every single time you saw him, your mind would inevitably think of the visions, but you felt like you couldn’t trust yourself with those anymore.

The man assured you at every step, he had no romantic feelings for you, he just wanted a friend, someone to put him in his place, be honest with him.

You definitely were honest.

Snapping at him when he showed up at your apartment uninvited, coming up behind you on the street and grabbing your sides, laughing when you shrieked and tried to hit your attacker, only to realize it was Keigo.

Tearing into him when he tried to talk badly about your friend - she had been having less and less contact with you, and you couldn’t figure out why. Now your relationship with her was reduced to curt text messages. Maybe she was just going through a hard time, and wanted alone time? Still, you let her know you were there for her, whenever she needed.

You were honest when Keigo asked your opinion on food, TV shows, clothes, movies. It was almost satisfying saying something sucked, just to see Keigo’s face fall slightly, before he shook his head, whining.

“Then help me pick something out! I can’t do it without you-“

He totally could, he was just being a baby.

The more he inserted himself into your life, the more you realized that he was akin to a petulant child, just with muscles and a penchant for inappropriate touching.

Whenever he saw you, he’d try to draw you into a hug, letting his hands drop far down your back, way too low for you to feel comfortable. You’d slap them away, and Keigo would laugh, before ruffling your hair.

He’d have you come over so he could check your quirk suppressor, except he was in the middle of a show, and it was getting to the best part. (“Sit down, shhh, it’s just getting good!”) You’d have to sit through the entire thing, enduring Kiego’s hand lazily drawing shapes over your pants on your thigh, simply putting it back whenever you shoved it off.

He was insufferable, irritating to no end, but you could tell he was a lonely man, bitter about his love life and with his friendships.

So you tolerated his presence.

After all, he wasn’t trying to hurt you. That’s something he reiterated every single time you shied away from his touch. He made you feel like a fool for thinking the man was hitting on you, when he made it so clear that he wasn’t, only interested in friendship.

Until you fell asleep at his house.

Another one of those days were he needed to look at your quirk suppressor (which you were 99% sure was fine, it seemed like he just enjoyed seeing it on your wrist). He had been rummaging around in his room before he had to run and open the front door for you, talking as he walked back to return to his previous task.

Apparently he was trying to find a good shirt, seeing as how he had pants on, but his chest was bare. Keigo instructed you to sit on the bed for a second while he retreated into his massive closet, trying to find a good shirt  to go with the rest of his outfit.

His bedroom was pretty large, a full California King taking up the majority of the space, neatly made. The sheets and blankets felt soft beneath your fingers as you sat on it’s edge, prepared to wait for Keigo for a bit.

The man always took his fashion very seriously - one time he’d even spent two hours trying on clothes until he’d decided on an appropriate outfit to go to the park.

So you followed your tired eyes, exhausted from work and dealing with Keigo, worrying about your friend, daily life stressors and the like.  Keigo wouldn’t mind if you laid back, right? Your feet wouldn’t be on the bed, so it’d be fine.

And it was fine, pleasant, the room the perfect temperature.

You were roughly jerked out of sleep by pressure. Pressure on your hips, pressure on your lips.

Eyes jolting open, you tried to inhale, only to find yourself unsuccessful.

Keigo was on top of you.

Panicking, your hands came to push at him, a muffled sound of protest being squeaked out from where his lips pressed against yours.

Noticing you were awake, Keigo pulled back, smiling the whole while.

“I’m not willing to wait anymore, I just gotta have you.”

His eyes were glinting, hair tousled, still shirtless. You felt goosebumps arise as you remembered the vision you had so long ago, of this exact moment.

“Wai-mmph!” His lips were on yours again, passionate and warm, moving eagerly. A wet tongue pressed at the seam of your mouth, surprising you and making you blanch, which allowed the man access.

Kiego’s tongue explored the inside of your mouth, playfully tapping your own wet muscle, encouraging you to lift it and wrestle with him.

This was too weird, this wasn’t happening, you couldn’t do this-

Biting down hard, you snapped your teeth shut on his tongue, and Keigo yelped, drawing back immediately.

“Ouch, what the fuck!?! Chill out (Y/N), geez.” His hand was dabbing at his mouth, wincing when it came in contact with his bleeding tongue. You had bitten him deep, but you weren’t focused on that right now.

“What are-what are you doing?” Your voice was breathless, disoriented. The room felt…. Dark, and suffocating, as if it was closing in on the two of you, trapping you.

Keigo looked down at you, and it was only then that you realized you had been moved to lie on the bed fully, shoes off, legs splayed. The man rested on his stomach between them, his weight pressed against your body, keeping you still.

“I told you, I can’t wait anymore. I’ve been as nice as I can, but it’s time you started paying me back for everything I’ve done for you.”

What? Paying him back-was he talking about the quirk suppressor he had gifted you? Had he been lying about his true intentions this whole time?

“That’s not right, it was a gift, you-you don’t have to pay back a gift.” You spluttered, feeling as if your chest was collapsing.

Keigo shook his head, swooping down to leave a bloody kiss on your forehead, which you cringed at, before pulling back to speak.

“Nah, it wasn’t a gift. You know how expensive it was? You were always gonna have to compensate me. Now shush, I wanna feel you-“

One of his hands grabbed your jaw, keeping your face turned towards his, pressing down until tears formed in your eyes. His lips were bloody from the bite on his tongue, tasting unmistakably like iron.

You didn’t want this.

Trying to bite him again left you with a slap to your thigh, making you cry out. Keigo huffed out a laugh against your mouth.

He detached from your lips, just to start nibbling at your jawline, elating streaks of red where his lips touched.

“God, you are so sexy. I was trying to chill, but then I came out and you were sleepin’ all cute, and I couldn’t fucking stop myself from touching.”

“Stop doing this, I can pay you with something different. I don’t wanna do this Keigo.” You whispered, on the verge of crying.

“No, I get to decide what you’ll be doing for me, it’s my bracelet-“

“It’s not, you gave it to me, please stop-“

“Shut up.” He growled sinking his teeth into the side of your neck, nipping at the skin hard enough to have you screaming. “You’re so ungrateful, where’s my thanks? I’ve done so much for you.”

“Thank you, thank you Keigo, I appreciate it all-“ You hurried out, hoping it was what he wanted to hear “But I can’t do this, please don’t make me. I wanna go home.”

“There we go, I like the sound of you thanking me. You’re going to thank me for each and every time you cum tonight, got it?”

“No, no, we can’t do this, I can’t! Get off of me, please-“

“You’ll do it, or else I’ll whip you until your flesh hangs off of you in strings.” He hissed, squeezing your jaw cruelly.

The tears in your eyes overflowed as you fell silent.

“Aw, birdie, don’t cry. I’m not gonna hurt you, I never have, right?” He waited for a second, watching your face before he pressed harder, eyes hardening “Right?“

You nodded jerkily, and Keigo came to kiss your tears away, savoring their salty taste as they rolled down your cheeks.

“Keigo, this isn’t right though, please get off me. I don’t want this-“

“You want me to take this away?” A hand caught your shaking wrist, the one that had the quirk suppressor fastened snugly around it, wrenching it up so both of you could see it. “Huh? Put you back where you were in your miserable little life? Running away from everyone, holing up in your apartment, not willing to touch or be touched…”

The very thought made your insides churn, and a fresh round of tears rolled down your face as you shook your head no, lips wobbling as you whined. You felt so pathetic, so small and dumb underneath Keigo.

“That’s what I thought. You’re going to relax now, right? No more begging unless it’s for more.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, beginning to shuffle around until he could slide his hands under your shirt, pressing against your tummy as you flinched away.

“Don’t worry birdie, you’re gonna like every single thing we’re gonna do. You’ve had sex now, yeah? Since I gave you the bracelet?”

You shook your head “no”, it’s not like you were eager for sex before you got it, and all the touching-without-terrifying-visions thing was still new to you, the dating world was being eased into. Somehow though, every single date seemed to be crashed by the man on top of you.

Keigo lit up like a Christmas tree, licking his lips gleefully. “Okay, okay, I can-whew, that’s hot-I can be gentle.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, his hands skirting up your ribs, shucking up your shirt as the traveled higher and higher.

“Keigo please-“

“Don’t you dare say stop, I’m not gonna. You’re the first person that doesn’t want anything from me, you’re real, and I’m not stopping.”

His admission made you cringe, recoiling from his touch. He followed you, palms finally smoothing over your breasts, over your bra.

“You’re going to do what I say, or else this-“ Your wrist was wrenched into view, red-and-black bracelet glittering. “-gets removed. And I’ll still do whatever the fuck I want, but you’ll be off in your mind having visions of who-knows-what while I have my way. Got it?”

Your blood chilled, body suddenly feeling ice cold. His tone was dead serious, spitting out the words with a sense of finality.

“So, just lay there and take it birdie, I’ll be good to you.”

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

For the bad things happen Bingo... burns for villain?

Circle for completed, heart for requested

Thank you so much for the ask!

Quick warning that may need more context than a word or two. In this snippet, Villain saves a child and they are buried. Some may call this "minor whump", but the child is never hurt whatsoever.

I don't know if this exactly fits "burns" but I think it does.

Scathed Skin

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: explosion, burns from explosion, broken bones, starvation, fever, buried alive

*not edited*

~

Fourteen

Villain ran into the next room, greedily scanning the interior.

Thirteen.

He pushed away from the doorframe and sprinted into the next room, but that was also devoid of the assumed ticking.

Twelve.

Villain checked out the next room. A child, young in age and tiny in stature was cowering in a corner, sobbing.

"Hey, hey, hey," Villain soothed, bounding over to the child and picking her up. "I'll be okay, alright?"

"Where's my mommy?" The child cried. "I want my mommy."

"Yeah I know, I know," the villain whispered, rubbing the child's back and hoping that her mother was one of the people who managed to escape.

Eight.

Villain ran out of the room with the child. He couldn't disable the bomb now.

So he ran towards the exit, knowing he would have to jump and somehow break the child's fall.

Six.

The ticking started to get more consistent and more intense. Villain looked up, the exit was only five feet, four feet, three feet...

One.

Villain knelt to the ground, wrapping the child with his arms and legs- his whole body- as an earsplitting boomed sounded throughout his ears.

Pain ripped at his back and he fell forward, careful not to harm the child. She was hysterically screaming now.

Villain groaned as black spots danced at his vision, but those weren't his top concern. The ticking had returned, symbolizing another bomb threat.

Villain pushed himself to his feet, though stability abandoned him after one crisp second. He stumbled over to a wall and leaned against it, still holding the child and breathing heavily.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Villain's ears perked and he turned to exit the building, but found that the exit was decimated. He sighed and took off half-sprinting, half-limping, the other way as agony pierced every cell of his being.

He barely made it to the stairs before he collpased sideways, head banging against the floor, making a hollow thud sound. Stars illuminated the black dust in his vision, making him wince and grimace.

The feeling of wet slowly snapped him out of it. His eyesight somewhat cleared as he felt more in-tune with his limbs- or was it just adrenaline?

The child was crying into his shirt, hugging him madly. He grunted, wrapping his arm around her comfortingly, but that only made her wail harder.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. We are going to be alright, okay?" Villain whispered just as another explosion sent a wave of buzzing discomfort through his ears.

The floor beneath him rattled and creaked before it caved in. Villain and the child fell, but Villain was able to twist around and use his mutilated back to break the young girl's fall.

His body connected with the tile floor. He barely registered the whistle of a kettle before dirt and debris crumbled around him, and inevitable unconsciousness took hold.

He awoke sometime later on his side, cheek pressed into the floor. He groaned and winced in pain as the world flared up around him. Blinding lights shot at his eyeballs as rocks and glass bit into his back.

Villain floated around in that whirlpool of pain as his senses struggled to snap back into it. Memories dabbed at the bruises in his head gingerly.

There was an explosion, then pain, then nothing.

But that was only once sentence that was missing a lot of facts.

He started to become aware of another presence looming over him. It started with the faintest of breezes against his forehead, then a noise like a whimper.

The child.

Villain tried to blink away the haze in his vision, but it only made things even foggier and thick.

"Sir?" The child squeaked when she realized that Villain woke up. "Sir, where's my mommy?"

Her words went right over Villain's head; heck, he hardly came to the conclusion that someone was speaking.

His limited span of sight started to double, then triple as consciousness was snatched away again.

When Villain regained consciousness the second time, he found that he was much more aware of his surroundings.

They were trapped in a somewhat capacious room. Villain's leg was trapped under a wooden beam and was so painful that it had to be broken.

The child was drawing figures in the dust and dirt. Apart from a very dirty face, she didn't appear to be harmed.

But nonetheless, Villain asked out of courtesy, "You good, kid?"

The girl blinked a couple times before nodding. Gosh, she hardly looked ten.

Villain looked around. It seemed that they were trapped in some sort of kitchen. It was very tiny and by some miracle, the various blocks of plaster and heavy metal pipes didn't crush them.

But it did crush the only possible food supply, but the girl seemed to have grabbed a cereal box.

"Hey, give me that," Villain said, trying to pull himself close to the girl, but immediately scream in pain as he tugged at his leg. He collapsed fully on the ground, groaning and somewhat dazed.

The girl pushed the box towards him. It fell over and landed on his face. Villain shakily tipped it over and looked inside.

It was half full. Or empty, depending on how you looked at it.

"Is there anymore food in those cabinets?" Villain asked, nodded towards the dark colored cupboards.

The girl shook her head and pulled her legs in. Her dirty face was tearstained with crusty eyelashes. She had been crying while Villain was unconscious.

"Hey, we'll be okay," Villain soothed as he thrusted his hand into the box. "We are going to have to ration. Ten pieces twice a day, not that we can exactly tell the day."

That wouldn't be enough, but it would have to suffice.

"Okay," the girl squeaked, crawling over and picking out ten cheerios. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." She smiled and popped a couple into her mouth.

Villain dozed off a little after that, back and leg in scorching pain, not enabling a truly restful sleep. The girl also slept, or Villain thought, her back was turned towards him.

They somewhat bonded too. The girl started to talk about her barbie and My Little Pony roleplays and even asked Villain to join. He played along a little bit, awkwardly voicing Applejack, before exhaustion took its toll and he fell asleep mid-sentence.

He was getting sick and he knew it. The pair ate their alloted cereal in silence, both knowing that they would soon run out.

"I'm hungry," the girl complained one day- the first complaint in who know's how long.

Villain gave her a sympathetic smile and pushed half of his cheerios over. He wasn't that hungry anyways.

His head started to hurt as he felt fever set in. He couldn't sleep anymore other than periodic, short-lived black outs. But he always awoke more dizzy and tired than before.

Soon after, the fever started to worsen. He would thrash in his sleep and wake up more entangled than before. It hurt, everything hurt and there was no relief.

The girl was his only source of light. She would watch him with wide eyes, bright gaze never faltering. He would reach for her in half-consious states, desperate to know if she was okay.

He quit eating entirely, allowing the girl all the food, but still she ate her twenty pieces a day.

Once, Villain woke up so weak and exhausted that we couldn't even turn his head to look around. He groaned, staring at the floor with a dull gaze.

"Sir? Sir are you okay?" The girl asked, voice thick with sobs. "Are-are you dead?"

Villaim forced himself to peel up his eyes to look at her, but could only keep the look for so long before his eyelids drooped again.

The girl crawled over and picked Villain's head up an inch from the ground. Like a ragdoll, he allowed total and utter control of his head and neck.

"We'll be okay," Villain wheezed, closing his eyes as pressure built in between his eyebrows.

The girl dropped his head just as the fever pulled him under again.

The girl crawled back to her spot, laid down, and also took a nap.

Neither knew of the rescue team just feet above them.

[dottielovegood]

ASMR - Chapter 5

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

_______________________________________

You can find chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here, chapter 3 here and chapter 4 here

Read this fic on AO3

_______________________________________

Elain Beautiful!

Elain’s message made Azriel blush. He even blushed the next day whenever he thought about it.

He had never been called “beautiful” before. Handsome? Yes. Sexy and hot? A few times

But beautiful? Never

He couldn’t stop thinking about the message. Nor could he stop thinking about the fact that she lived in Velaris. Had they ever passed each other on the street? Had he stood behind her in the line at the grocery store?

Had they breathed the same air without knowing it?

Azriel couldn’t help but think back to Rhys and Feyre’s wedding. She had been there, hadn’t she? That same day when he was sitting with Rhys in a suite before the ceremony, she had delivered flowers downstairs. If he had just left the room before the ceremony, he might have met her that day. He was certain that they hadn’t met, even though Nesta was certain that they must have at least seen each other. He knew in his heart that he could never have forgotten her face if he had seen it. He couldn’t stop thinking about her now, and he had only seen her on his screen.

Azriel imagined that she must be even more beautiful in real life.

And now, he could actually find out if that was the case.

He told himself that he didn’t change his usual morning route because he wanted to see her. He told himself that he was tired of running in the park and that a run along the river Sidra would be a nice change of pace. He told himself that he didn’t even think about the fact that Elain’s flower shop was located on River Street, looking out over the Sidra.

He told himself all these things, but deep down, he knew that he was lying. It felt stupid and idiotic to lie to yourself, but it made him feel a bit better. It made him feel a little less like a creep as he ran along the river.

It was a nice day out. You could tell that summer was turning into fall because of the crisp morning air and the changing colors of the leaves. Velaris was probably the most beautiful during fall, at least according to Azriel. He had always loved fall and always hated summer. He didn’t like the heat. His friend, Cassian, hated summer too because of his allergies. That’s why he and Nesta had opted for a fall wedding.

The city was quiet this early in the morning. Azriel enjoyed the quiet; he always had. He never worked out with music and he couldn’t understand why people wanted to blast stressful tunes in their ears while working out. For Azriel, running was a form of meditation. He was completely alone with his thought and he often felt as if he had his best ideas during his morning runs. Music would have bothered him.

He had mapped out a route along the Sidra that was approximately 5 kilometers long (he always ran 5 km in the morning). It just so happened that Elain’s store could be seen from this route. What a coincidence, he thought, as it came into view.

In between the lies he had told himself, he had also told himself that she would probably not be there this early. He just wanted to see the place where she worked, but she would most likely not even be there. It was less creepy if she wasn’t there, which is why he hadn’t walked by in the middle of the day. He didn’t want her to think that he was a stalker. He remembered what Nesta had said about her taste in men, and he was pretty sure that she would never look at him again if she thought that he was stalking her.

As he was nearing her shop, he felt his palms sweat and his heart race. Totally normal reactions to a workout, he told himself. And all of a sudden, he found himself across the street from her little shop. It was situated between a small café and a bookshop. The sign above the door was light pink, and swirly green letters read “WALLFLOWER”. That was an interesting name for a flower shop, Azriel thought. Then, he noticed that the lights were on and the door was slightly ajar. Azriel held his breath as he slowed his pace and looked through the window. At first, there was no sign of anyone in there. Then, a door in the back opened, and there she was. She had her hair down today, and she was wearing a dark blue dress over a white t-shirt. Her face was covered by the big bunch of flowers she was carrying. Azriel knew nothing about flowers, but he knew he hated these white and pink things for covering her face. Azriel pulled up his hood, hoping that she wouldn’t see him as he lingered on the other side of the street, hoping for just one look.

She bent over and put the flowers down just by the door. Her hair fell in front of her face and…

That’s when Azriel’s phone rang.

And for once in his life, the sound was on. He had no idea when he had un-muted it, but he could see Elain shift. Shit, she had heard his phone. The door was slightly open and there was no traffic right now which obviously meant that anyone within a 100-meter radius could hear it. And it did not help that someone, probably Cassian, had changed his ringtone to fucking Barbie Girl by Aqua.

Azriel quickly turned away from the shop and started running again. He didn’t even see where he was going as he fumbled in his pocket for his phone. “Fuck,” he let out as the female voice in his pocket sang about how fantastic it was to be plastic.

“What?” he answered, ready to rip apart the person that had called him.

“What has your knickers in a twist?” Rhys asked in a fake British accent.

“I’m running.”

“Yeah, I know. You always run at this time of the day. Creature of habit and all that.” Rhys sounded chipper. Who the fuck was this happy in the morning?

“What do you want? Didn’t you say that the meeting started at nine today?”

“Yes, Azriel. The meeting starts at nine, but I need you and Cassian to come in earlier. Like now. Where are you?”

“I’m by the Sidra, so it’ll probably take me ten minutes to reach the office if I run,” Azriel answered. “Is this urgent, or can I go home and change?”

“Why are you by the Sidra? You always run in the park?”

“Trying to get out of my comfort zone,” Azriel mumbled, hoping that Rhys would just let it go.

“Well, good for you. And yes, it’s urgent. You can shower here and I know that you keep extra clothes in your desk drawer. See you in ten minutes!”

Azriel groaned. He did not want an emergency meeting right now. He wanted to go home and drown in his shower from the sheer mortification he was feeling.

“Oh, Azriel!” Rhys almost shouted before Azriel could hang up. “Bring coffee.”

Azriel snorted. “I didn’t think you were allowed coffee.”

Azriel could hear the smile in his brother’s voice as he said, “just bring the fucking coffee, Az.”

20 minutes later, Azriel walked into the office with three cups of coffee and a few croissants.

“What’s the emergency?” Azriel asked as soon as he walked through the doors to Rhys’ office.

Cassian was already there, and Rhys had the biggest grin on his face. It made Azriel uncomfortable. Why was he grinning at half-past seven in the morning?

Azriel handed one cup each to Rhys and Cassian while taking one for himself. He didn’t take a seat. He just waited for Rhys to tell him why the hell he was here.

Cass took a sip from his cup and made a disgusted face.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked.

“De-caf, vanilla latte with extra foam.”

“Why? You know that I drink my coffee black.”

“Barbie girl,” was all Azriel said, and from the way Cassian’s face lit up, he could tell that it was, indeed, Cassian who had changed his ringtone.

“Oh, yeah,” Cassian grinned. “great song!”

Azriel rolled his eyes.

Rhys leaned against his desk and took a swig from his own cup. Azriel had not made a funny order for him, but he kind of wish he had. The stupid smile seemed to be permanently etched onto his face. Rhys let out a sound that sounded eerily like a moan.

“God, this tastes like heaven,” he sighed. Azriel liked his coffee as much as any other person, and he guessed that it would taste even better if you had gone without any caffeine for months, but this was still weird.

“Better than your wife?” Cass joked and wiggled his eyebrows.

Rhys shot him a death glare. “Don’t you dare speak about the mother of my future child like that!”

Azriel felt his jaw drop. Did he just say what Azriel thought he said?

He didn’t have time to ask before Rhys lit up again. “Feyre’s pregnant!” he basically shouted.

For a beat, Azriel and Cassian stared at him dumbfounded. Then, Cassian jumped from his chair, embracing Rhys.

“Damn! Finally! Congratulations, man,” he said and patted him hard on the back.

Azriel wasn’t much of a hugger, but even he embraced his brother. “Congrats!”

“How did you find out?” Cassian asked.

“Well, it was all very romantic. I made her breakfast this morning, and she looked at me as if I had put rat-poison in her porridge. Then she threw up. Actually, the first sign was definitely that her boobs got bigger, but she told me to shut up every time I mentioned it.”

“Didn’t need to know that,” Azriel muttered.

Rhys ignored him. “So she took a test, and there were definitely two little pink lines there.”

His entire face was a big smile now, and Azriel couldn’t help but smile too. He was so happy for Rhys and Feyre. They were going to be great parents.

“So, I wanted to tell you that you’re going to be uncles,” he announced.

Azriel and Cassian looked at each other. If Azriel wasn’t mistaken, he could see Cassian tear up.

“I’ll be the fun uncle,” Cass exclaimed as if anyone would ever question that.

Azriel took a seat next to Cassian as they continued talking for a while. Az couldn’t help but notice that Rhys seemed almost equally happy about the fact that he was now allowed to eat meat and drink coffee again.

“So, Rhys, just to be clear. You only called us in here this early to tell us that you were going to be a father? That couldn’t wait?”

“Obviously, it couldn’t wait,” Rhys answered matter of factly. “But no, that wasn’t the only reason. There’s a problem with the online subscriptions that I need you to look at.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I hired you.”

Azriel spent the entire morning sorting out the problem. When he was finally done, it was time for lunch. Since he hadn’t been able to go home and bring the lunch he had prepared, he had to venture out for food. He decided to go to one of his favorite places in town; a small Vietnamese place within walking distance to the office. He ordered Phở and decided to eat his lunch there since he was a bit tired of staring into his computer screen. He took a seat in the corner next to the windows looking out over the street and started a podcast on his phone as he dug into his noodle soup. It was delicious, as always, and he didn’t really pay attention to anything but the food and the podcast. This is why he didn’t notice that someone had sat down at his table until a female voice started speaking to him. He had just shoved some noodles into his mouth as he looked up to see who was talking to him, and his heart almost stopped.

It was her. Flower Girl ASMR. Elain.

Azriel had noodles hanging out of his mouth and his brain couldn’t decide if he should just push all of it into his mouth, or take a bite and let the rest fall into his bowl, so he just sat there; looking and feeling like a fool.

“Azriel,” Elain greeted him when his eyes met hers. His brain couldn’t comprehend that she was here, at one of his favorite restaurants, while he was listening to a true-crime podcast. Azriel quickly swallowed what was in his mouth and removed his headphones. He could feel himself blush.

“Elain,” he breathed, feeling warm and sweaty all of a sudden. “What are you doing here?”

She laughed. She had a lovely laugh. “Nice to see you too. Is it good?”

“What?”

“The food,” she gestured to the bowl, “is it good?”

“Yes, very.” Azriel didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected to see her here. He had actually not expected to ever hear from her again if she had seen him outside of her store this morning.

Elain looked around. “This place is really cute. I’ve never been here before, but my employees recommended it.”

That explained why she was there.

“Yeah, it’s the best Vietnamese food in town.”

“I’ll take your word for it. You seemed to really enjoy it.” She smiled at him, and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that she had seen him eat. He had no idea what he looked like when he ate, but he felt very self-conscious all of a sudden.

“So, you live in Velaris?” Azriel asked after a short stretch of silence.

She nodded. “Mhm. I moved here a few years ago and opened my shop. Speaking of, did I see you this morning?” She was eyeing him suspiciously.

Azriel felt himself go completely still. Fuck. She had seen him. His life was over. Mentally, he started to prepare to move away from Velaris. Maybe he should just move to Australia? Or maybe Siberia? Anywhere far, far away.

He felt himself shake his head in answer, hoping that she believed him.

She raised an eyebrow “Really?”

She looked down at her lap and he could hear her tap on her phone, and then Azriel’s phone, which was conveniently sitting on the table, was ringing.

Fucking Barbie Girl.

He had forgotten to put it on silent again. He was going to murder Cassian.

The screen lit up with her name, and he knew he was busted.

He expected her to tell him to never contact her again. He expected her to kick him under the table and call him a creep. And god, did he deserve it. But, to his surprise, she laughed.

“Interesting music choice. I wouldn’t have pegged as a 90’s euro-pop lover.”

“I’m not,” he muttered under his breath. “This is my friend’s idea of humor. I am going to kill him as soon as I get back to the office.”

“Please don’t. You’re too pretty to go to jail,” Elain joked, and Azriel felt himself blush - again.

He took a deep breath and decided to try to explain the situation. “About this morning... I was just doing my morning workout. I promise I was not stalking you.”

“I didn’t think you were stalking me. I mean, did you even know I lived in Velaris?”

Azriel was just about to answer when Elain’s name was called. She got up and picked up her food from the girl behind the register. She walked back to his table and held up the brown paper bag, “Well, I have to go. My employees need fuel.”

“It was really nice meeting you in real life, Elain. Sorry if I was weird,” Azriel apologized.

“Don’t apologize. I get it. I hate when people interrupt me when I eat. But when I saw you, I just felt like I had to say hi.”

Azriel smiled at her. “It was a welcome interruption. Enjoy your lunch!”

With a quick goodbye, she turned around and started to walk to the door. Azriel cursed himself. Why was he such a weirdo? Couldn’t he have been cool and mysterious? Why did he have to be some kind of awkward noodle-eating monster?

He was just about to drown himself in the remaining food in front of him when he saw Elain turn around and head for his table again.

“Would you like to do this again?” she asked, the question coming out quickly.

Azriel stared at her. “Do what?”

“See each other in real life.”

“Yes,” Azriel blurted out. “I would really like that.”

She gave him the sweetest smile and he felt like he was looking at the sun.

“Great! Are you free this Friday?”

Azriel didn’t tell her that he would make sure to be free any night she wanted to spend time with him.

Instead, he just said, “Yes, I’m free.”

“Good. I’ll text you.”

And with that, Elain exited the restaurant. Azriel was staring at his bowl of cold noodles, not feeling very hungry anymore. She had asked him out.

Elain, the prettiest girl alive, had asked him out.

If he had been a comic book character, he was certain that there would be small, pink hearts flying around his head.

She texted him later that night.

Elain It was lovely running into you today :) But damn that ringtone of yours! I’ve been singing Barbie Girl all day, haha!

Azriel Thank you for interrupting my lunch! Don’t tell anyone this, but I haven’t been able to get that stupid song out of my head either. But don’t worry, I was able to get my hands on my friend’s phone this afternoon and return the favor.

Elain Oooh! Which song did you pick?

Azriel Jizz in my pants by the Lonely Island.

Elain You’re evil! I love it!

Azriel So, for Friday. Would you be up for drinks?

Azriel wanted to suggest dinner, but drinks felt safer. If she thought that he was dull or weird, it would be easier for her to leave.

Elain Yes! That would be great. There is this new place that I’ve been dying to go to. It’s called Rita’s.

Azriel Rita’s it is! Shall we say at 8?

Elain It's a date! I’m really looking forward to it :)

Azriel Me too!

Azriel felt giddy. He felt like a teenager that had just been asked out by his crush. Or at least, he thought that this was the same feeling. He hadn’t really been asked out in High School. Elain had probably been popular, but he had been the emo-guy in the corner, listening to music nobody had ever heard.

However, the more he thought about Friday, the more nervous he became. What if he couldn’t find something interesting to talk about? What if she found him boring?

And worst of all; what the hell should he wear?

[sunshineseung]

Journal Part 2 // Jeongin

🍄 | genre: smut ☁️ | pairing: Yang Jeongin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 3.2k 🌸 | includes: milf!reader x babysitter!college student!virgin!jeongin, solo masturbation (m), “mommy/ma’am”, other pet names, more smut within smut [spanking, punishment], breast play, begging, agreement of safe word, unprotected PIV, choking, creampie, male overstimulation, a lil bit more but that’s the main stuff

🌊 | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Finale |

The dim light of the desk lamp was all that lit the room as Jeongin desperately jotted his thoughts down into his journal. It was very late at night, almost sunrise, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. As he was writing, he was completely hard, and his hand was lazily stroking his cock, not in an attempt to reach an orgasm, but rather just to relieve some of the pent up energy he had inside of himself. 

This journal will no longer have to be fantasy. Finally, after years of going after girls and failing miserably, I have a girl that wants me, but not just a girl, a woman. Ms. L/n, the woman this entire book is for, said she needs me, and she did get me like she wanted. Although I wasn’t thinking straight, I remember everything. Her defined hands worshipped my body while she teased me, and even with my underwear on, it was hard not whimpering and moaning as she gripped my cock like I’ve wanted her to for so long. When she went down on me, it felt like a dream. I almost pinched myself out of fear that it was all a dream, but when I looked down to see my release covering her chest, I knew it wasn’t. 

The kiss… Her lips were so pretty and soft. The way she kissed me made my heart burst, like my life was just starting to begin. As cheesy as that sounds, I can’t shake the feeling that my neighbor who I once only lusted for was becoming more than just the woman I think about when I’m needy. I want to be with her all the time, and not just for sex. It’s too early to say I’m in love, of course, but despite her being over ten years older than me, would it be crazy of me to say that I like her?

Jeongin shut the journal, putting it in his bookbag for tomorrow. Looking back out of his bedroom window, the light behind your curtains was off, signaling it was way too late for him to be up. He slept good that night knowing all of his wildest and dirtiest dreams were about to come true, or at least a few of them.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

School was always a drag, but only having one class on Friday’s was a gift from God for Jeongin. All he had to do was get through an hour and a half of class, then he could go to your house. Through text, you told him to be prepared to stay late, possibly overnight, and being the overly excited (and horny) teenage boy that Jeongin is, he couldn’t help but let his imagination run wild. Late night sex, morning sex, shower sex, the things he wanted to do with you were endless. Still, he also wanted to hold your hand, as weird as that sounded.

Putting his feelings aside, he joined his last class of the week and scrolled through his phone as his teacher blabbed on about who-knows-what. He needed something to distract him from the massive distraction that was your entire existence. 

He dashed out of his house right when class ended, showing up to your house earlier than usual only by a few minutes. You thanked him for watching your kids and left, and the casualness of your mannerisms alarmed Jeongin. You’re all he’s been thinking about for the past day, so how were you so calm and collected as if you weren’t wearing the same shirt that had his cum on it, albeit washed and dried right after the fact.

Your kids certainly help Jeongin get his mind off of you when they immediately ask him to play once you leave. After going through every jigsaw puzzle and playing with every Barbie doll, he finally put them to bed, giving him over an hour before you get home from work to write whatever he wants in his journal. He just has to avoid falling asleep this time. 

“Please hit me harder ma’am,” I whine as she has me bent over her lap. I deserve this, and even more so, I want this. I want Ms. L/n to spank my ass as hard as she can while I writhe in her lap with my hard cock rubbing against her leg. “I’ve been a bad boy, haven’t I?” The marks she leaves on my ass burn in the best way. Feeling her nails dig into my skin when she grabs the flesh that she’s made bright red, I cry out of pleasure and pain. What’s so rewarding about being punished, and why does it make my cock twitch with excitement when you treat me like shit?

Subconsciously, Jeongin’s free hand has moved to the tent in his pants, rubbing over the fabric of his jeans for the slightest bit of stimulation. Feeling himself, he puts the journal to the side after writing nearly two pages of disgusting fantasies. Despite having a nice, wholesome time with your two daughters under an hour ago, his mind, as usual, wonders to the thought of you pleasuring him and yourself as much as you want. To Jeongin, he’s your babysitter but also your toy that will happily let you use him however you wish, basically making him your slave. 

Getting home a few minutes early, you walk into your house to see the living room empty, although you were expecting your babysitter to be on the couch. Opening the door to your kids’ room, they’re sound asleep with no sign of him. Your head spins when you hear muffled groans coming from your bedroom. Being only mildly pissed, you storm into your room to see none other Yang Jeongin curled into your comforter, jerking off while his head is buried into your pillow.

“Couldn’t wait for me, huh?” Jeongin feels the edge of the bed dip as you sit on the edge, but he doesn’t stop. Actually, he speeds up, moaning louder now that you’ve closed the door. He’s still partially dressed with his cute little ass hanging out of the back of his pulled down jeans. “Aw, is my pretty boy about to cum? Who are you thinking about, hm?” 

“Y-you.” Jeongin sighs loudly, feeling himself get closer to his climax just by you mentioning it. “I was thinking about you, only you, ma’am.” His whines of this new name make your face flush. You reach out for his thigh, turning him so he’s laying on his back. He flops into position like a ragdoll, but his hand remains pumping his cock. Just by feeling your hands on him, he cums all over his wrinkled tee shirt. Embarrassed he came so fast, he apologizes, but you know very well he isn’t really done yet.

“Don’t be sorry, baby. You’re so young, and I’m sure you can go another round.”

You pull his pants and underwear down his legs, making him gasp from the sudden exposure despite you seeing it all before. “Now sit up and take that shirt off.”

Fully obedient, he stands off the bed and strips until he’s totally naked, face red as he awkwardly holds his hands to his sides. You sit in front of him, running your hands down his arms until you grab his hips and bring him closer until his cock is right at your chest. Although he’s still a little soft, you’re sure he’ll get hard in no time.

“Undress me, Jeongin.” His eyes go wide as he looks your figure up and down, scared of what he’s about to see, and even more scared of what he’s about to do. With a dramatic gulp, he unbuttons the familiar work shirt you were wearing, exposing your bra. He slowly leans down, carefully not to faceplant into your chest, unbuttoning your top entirely before you shake it off of your shoulders, the article of clothing falling behind you on the bed. “I’m guessing you don’t know how to unhook a bra?”

“N-no. I’m sorry.” Jeongin moves back and covers his face with his hands as you reach behind you and easily unhook your bra for him, dropping it onto your thighs and tossing it somewhere on the floor. When he removes his hands from his face, his jaw hangs open. He can’t take his eyes off of your tits, which are much nicer than he could ever imagine. “May I touch them, mommy?”

“Of course, baby.” You take his wrist in your hand and pull his right hand to your left breast, basically forcing him to squeeze it between his fingers, not that he minded. Seeing him so flustered and confused only made you more turned on. He was so innocent, yet the things he wrote in his journal were so vulgar. You could hardly believe that the words in that cursed book came from the boy that didn’t know how to unhook a bra. “Put your mouth to the nipple.” 

“Huh?”

“Don’t act so naïve, Jeongin. I know you’ve thought about this before.” He finally looks up to you out of shock. “So shy? Now? But when you write in that book of yours, you’re not shy, are you?” 

“No ma’am. I’m sorry.” 

Stopping his hand, you pull him down to his knees by his wrist. He’s eye-level with your stomach, but he quickly raises himself up to connect his lips with one of your nipples. You moan shortly as your hand tangles in his hair, pulling him closer into your chest. Even after breastfeeding your two kids, your nipples were sensitive as ever. 

“Good boy.” You stare down at him as he’s focused, swirling his tongue around your bud. When he finally looks up to you, your head is thrown back from the mild pleasure Jeongin’s shooting through your nerves. 

He’s starting to feel bold. Jeongin moves from one nipple to the other, massaging your other spit-coated breast with his hand. His fingers rub your nipple, twisting it just enough for it to all feel good. Your moans become more frequent, and being able to hear you groan for him is all he’s ever wanted. 

“Mommy, can I fuck your tits?” You’re the one that’s shocked this time. He pulls back, his hand becoming still on your other breast. “I want to fuck your tits so bad, please?” 

“Whoa there, baby boy. Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” You laugh at his eagerness, pulling him by his hair to stand up. Just seeing how hard he’s gotten by sucking on your tits is enough to make you almost laugh again, but you wouldn’t want to be too mean to the poor boy. 

Moving back on the bed, you lay down and spread your legs. His eyes immediately direct towards your heat, still covered by your work pants. When you gesture towards the obstacle, he lets out a tiny “oh” before pulling your pants down, leaving you in your sopping panties. 

He hooks his index fingers on the hips of your panties, gently pulling them down your legs before dropping them to the floor with your panties. Again, this is greater than anything he could have imagined. 

“C’mere, my little prince.” You take his hands in yours, dragging him to sit on your thighs while you lay under him. You don’t let go of his hands, and he really doesn’t want you to. Your pet names for him always make him blush, but this one in particular made his heart beat even faster than before. “Have you written anything about me since yesterday?”

Jeongin’s mind becomes clouded by all of the things he’s written in the past 24 hours. Every scenario and confession fills his head, and it takes him a few moments to answer before he comes back to reality to answer you. “Y-yes mommy.”

“What did you write?”

Pause. “S-spank me?” Jeongin’s voice is only a light whisper. 

“What was that?” You lean up a little, holding your hand behind your ear to tease him. “You have to speak up, Jeonginnie.”

“I wrote about you spanking me.” His voice returns to him, now fully speaking from his chest. “Punishing me, treating me like a doll.”

“Oh my God, baby. That’s so perverted.” You rub his thighs up and down as you stare at his cock, now twitching with your every word. “You want to be my little doll? Let me do whatever I want to you?” 

“Y-yes!” His overexcited nature makes you giggle as you feel around his pelvis, hands getting dangerously close to his dick. “Can I be mommy’s little toy? I’ll be good, I promise!”

“But don’t you want me to punish you too?” You bite your lip as you look up at him. He’s looking off into the distance, imagining all of the nasty things he wants you to do to him. “Spank you, degrade you, deprive you?” 

“Can’t I have both?” His retort is quick. You didn’t know he could answer you so soon since he was clearly dipping into subspace, although he didn’t even know he did that. “Be your good boy and make you punish me?”

“Wow, so dirty~ We’ll need a safe word, alright?” He nods in understanding, watching you as you try to come up with a word that you could both comfortably say. “How about ‘mango’? Would that be good for you?”

“Mango is good, yeah.” You feel around the base of his cock, watching precum drip from his tip as he groans.

“What do you want to do right now, baby boy?”

“Oh,” he ponders for a second, “p-please fuck me.” 

“Ah, I love it when you beg.” You roughly push him over, his body falling onto the bed right where he was jerking off not too long ago. Climbing over him, you line his member up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds. He whimpers under you, biting the side of his hand to hold back any unwanted sounds he might let out. “Are you ready?”

“Y-yes, mommy! Please let me feel you.” The hand he isn’t biting down on goes to one of his nipples, feeling his chest like he just did to you. You slowly lower onto him, watching his facial expressions rapidly change as he gets used to feeling your cunt around him. He isn’t the biggest, but he still manages to fill you up and make you feel just right. 

Once you’re fully lowered onto him, he grabs your hips and holds you, whining your name over and over again. You can tell he’s trying to get something out, but his brain is too blank to form a sentence. Adjusting yourself on his cock, he groans with a high-pitched whine following shortly after.

“Wait, w-what if I cum inside you?” You look down at him, smiling at his cuteness. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last too long.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, baby.” You lean over and kiss his forehead, holding his face in your palms. “No matter what, I’m not stopping until I cum, got it?”

“Y-yes, ah~ Y/n!” Leaning back from his face, you raise up on him while he is mid-sentence, making him moan out for you. When you start to ride him, his sounds just can’t stop. Fearful that he’ll wake your children, you lean forward again and cover his mouth with your hand, still allowing him to breath through his nose. Ignoring your hand, he continues to cry and wail, feeling like he was on cloud nine just from you riding him. 

“You have such a nice cock, Jeonginnie. It’s even better inside me, though.” Your mind starts to fog, ignoring the younger boy’s needs to chase your own high. While one of your hands covers his mouth, your other hand wraps around his neck, choking him just enough to make him sob from the thrill. A few tears rolled down his cheeks, and without being able to warn you, he reached his climax and shot his load inside you, but you didn't stop.

Cum leaks out of your hole as your movements become quicker and rougher. The hand that covered his mouth has now joined your other hand around his neck, choking him as he sobs from the overstimulation, yet the predetermined safe word isn’t even crossing his mind. He loves everything you’re doing to him more than he could ever describe with words.

Your thumb runs across his bottom hip and he opens his mouth, light sobs leaving his throat. Ducking down towards his face, you kiss him with full tongue, something he’s never experienced before. Still, he quickly learned the movements and kissed you back, loving the feeling of your mouth against his. 

Pulling away, you stare down into his eyes. You looked beyond beautiful to him, and the entire visual of your half-lidded eyes, gaping mouth, bouncing tits, and dripping cunt making his cock disappear over and over again, he couldn’t help but get hard again.

“Cum for me, please mommy?” He pouts, giving you the glimmering eyes that always make you shudder. His hand hesitantly makes his way down to your clit, circling it with one finger while you ride his cock. You’re not entirely sure how he knows where the clitoris is, but it feels so good that you don’t even care. 

Mewling with your entire throat, your cunt tightens around Jeongin’s cock as you ride out your high, shallowing your movements. The sight of you cumming from him makes him moan right with you, nearly cumming inside you again. AS you come down from your orgasm, you slowly pull yourself off of him, his cock dropping against his abdomen, covering in the combined juices of you two. Catching your breath, you lay next to Jeongin, secretly hoping he’ll turn to his side so you can spoon him for a minute. 

“I can stay, right?” Jeongin turns to you while you lay on your side, looking to you for any sign of discontent. You nod as you stand up to go to the bathroom and clean up. “Oh, where are you going?”

“I can’t sleep like this.” You laugh as you gesture to your pussy, clearly in no shape to sit overnight. “I’ll be right back out.”

You disappear into the bathroom, ready to take care of the mess between your legs. Jeongin grabs a tissue and wipes himself clean of any release left on himself before laying back down and going on his phone, seeing a plethora of text message notifications from his friends’ group chat. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to check them right now. He just wants to bliss out, joyfully going through the entire night over again in his mind, cementing every action and event in his memory. 

Walking back from the bathroom, you toss yourself onto the bed and lay next to Jeongin, asking him politely to turn over so you can be the big spoon. With your chest pressed against his back, he puts his phone down and falls asleep.

Suddenly, your phone rings, and you quickly reach over to answer the call without seeing who it was. Unfortunately, it was your ex husband's voice coming from the other end, and you wish you had turned your ringer off. Jeongin was asleep, just like your kids, but as you rubbed your eyes from tiredness, you couldn’t help but regret answering the call.

“Y/n, are you fucking one of my students?”

Shit.

[wlntrsldler]

you belong with me (d.m one shot!)

“You belong with me” for Draco plz 🥺💚

@scene-awsten said:

you belong with me + fred or draco ( u choose im not picky at all !! ) ur writing is amazing btw <3

-

PROMPT: based on you belong with me by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Draco doesn’t know how to express his feelings.

WC: 2.8K+

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

-

you belong with me (d.m one shot)

You and Draco have a complicated relationship, to say the least. Most days you were at each other’s throats ready to tease each other until one left the room or turned an embarrassing shade of red. He’d reply to your words with a rude remark- which you learned not to take to heart- that leaves you in a fit of laughter because you knew he never really meant it. 

It started out in your first year, when you would try to talk to him, as best as your 11-year old half-blood self could. When you were sorted into Hufflepuff and were placed in the same class as the Slytherins for Defense Against the Dark Arts. You were partnered up with young Draco, who wore a frown on his face when he was separated from his friends in the class. 

You stared at the boy, taking in his appearance. You grew up in the Muggle world, only learning about the Wizarding world in small bits through your father’s stories. You tapped his shoulder, “Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, looking up and down from your face to your outstretched hand. Reluctantly, he shook your hand, “Draco Malfoy.” 

You grinned at him, scooting over to get closer to him. “You look like a barbie doll.” 

“A what?” he asked, looking at you with a grimace. He moved his chair to create more distance between you two, completely defeating the purpose of your move, “What the hell is a barbie doll?” 

“You guys don’t have barbies here?” 

“If it's something from the Muggle world, then no.” Draco scoffed, opening his book to the correct page. “Anything from the Muggle world is inferior to the Wizarding world.” 

“I don’t know,” you replied, oblivious to his obvious jab. “I will say I miss pens and pencils because these quills are just ancient.” 

Draco didn’t talk to you for the rest of the class period, just sneaking side glances at you as you struggled to write with your quill. He rolled his eyes at your cluelessness with all things Wizards and wondered how on earth you got accepted to Hogwarts. I already hate this bloody school, he thought. 

Over the years, you found yourself creating a bond with Draco. Despite his terrible people skills, you seemed to be patient with him, not really taking offense to his words. You would laugh and say something kind to him, throwing him completely off balance. Draco didn’t mean to be rude, you see, he just didn’t know how to talk to people. So he acted like a little boy on the playgrounds, pulling the pigtails of the girl he thought was very pretty. 

Then one day, you returned to Hogwarts and puberty hit you like a truck. Draco almost didn’t recognize you. You walked into the Great Hall, yellow tie proudly around your neck, with your fellow Hufflepuffs. You threw your head back laughing at something Cedric said and having to take a moment before you could say something back.

Draco noticed that your hair grew longer and your features matured over the summer. Your lips were more plump and you sported a natural blush on your cheeks. He gulped, ignoring the banter of Crabbe and Goyle to his left as he watched you take a seat beside Cedric. You noticed his eyes and sent a smile his way, causing the boy to look down at his plate, embarrassed that he was caught staring at you. 

Cedric looked at what got your attention and let out a chuckle to see a flustered Draco, “That boy is so smitten with you, you know that, Y/N? It’s quite funny actually.”

You grinned at Cedric, “How’s that funny?”

“Because he’s crushing on you like a little school girl and it’s funny to see it not returned.”

“Who said I don’t return the feelings?”

He raised an eyebrow at your question, “Do you?”

“Maybe.” 

Draco was both irritated and relieved that he didn’t have classes with you this year. To say that he forgot how to speak when you passed by him, was an understatement. Every time he saw you even walk in his general direction, he would turn around and walk the other way. He didn’t know why but he did. You made him nervous all of a sudden and he didn’t like it one bit. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed your banters. His days seemed very uneventful without them. 

He was walking towards the courtyard when he felt someone grab his forearm, pulling him towards a secluded part of the castle. Draco’s eyes widened when he realized it was you, angrily huffing as you stopped behind a pillar. You let go of his arm and crossed your arms over your chest. He was mentally debating if he should just run now. Surely you wouldn’t run after him, right? 

As if reading his mind, you glared at him, jabbing your index finger in his chest. “Don’t even think of running, Malfoy.” 

He gulped, nodding slowly, “O-okay..”

Once you saw his demeanor, you cleared your throat, realizing you’re probably scaring him. You frowned, “Why are you ignoring me?”

“What?” he asked, acting clueless but he knew he was ignoring you. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, nervously looking everywhere but your face in front of him. Merlin, you were prettier up close. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/L/N.” 

“Don’t be daft, Malfoy,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re avoiding somebody. Remember when you got Pansy in trouble and she swore she would hex you the next time she saw you? She was so furious that you were absolutely sure that she would so you would hide from her. The same way you’re hiding from me now. So what gives, Malfoy?”

Panicked, he said the only thing he could think of, “I’m not avoiding you. Did you ever stop and think that maybe because we don’t have classes together anymore, that means I no longer have to talk to you?” 

“Oh.” You blinked. You swallowed down any feeling of sadness as his words marinated in your head. You looked down, hiding the stray tear that slipped from your eye from the boy in front of you. You wiped it away hastily, clearing your throat before looking up. “I-I’m sorry. I thought we were past being just classmates… I must’ve misunderstood, then.”

His face dropped, leaning over to touch your shoulder, “Y/N-”

“No,” you interrupted, giving him a sad smile before backing away. “Silly me, thinking that we were friends. You’re Draco Malfoy, you’re too cool to have friends. I’ll leave you be now. Sorry for the inconvenience.” 

Before he could tell you just how wrong you were, you already disappeared from his vicinity. You walked away, hurriedly, down the corridor, ignoring the sound of Draco’s voice calling after you. Draco groaned, punching the side of the pillar in annoyance. Why can’t he just be nice for once?

You and Draco avoided each other pretty much entirely after that day. You were too ashamed to face him and Draco was too nervous and scared to come up to you and apologize. You just felt stupid thinking that something was brewing between the two of you. It wasn’t until Cedric dragged you to a Slytherin party- for Merlin knows what- that you and Draco were forced to cross paths again. You huffed as Cedric rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand to lead you to the Slytherin common room. 

“I don’t understand why I have to go with you.” 

Cedric looked over at you, irritated by your attitude, “Y/N, you need to have fun. Loosen up a bit!”

“Hmph,” you groaned, following him anyway. He mumbled greetings to Slytherins that you passed by, not letting go of your hand. Cedric was one of your closest friends, this affection between the two of you was normal. It didn’t mean anything but a sign of your friendship. “I am very much a fun person.” 

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he stopped in front of the drinks, letting go of your hand to make the two of you some drinks. He mixed in random liquids, making you grimace because he was never good at proportions and you knew this drink would be horrid, before handing it to you. “I’m just saying you need to have fun.” 

Reluctantly, you chugged your drink, coughing after it burned your throat. You were indeed correct- the drink was terrible. “I hate you, Diggory.” 

Chuckling, he sent you a wink, “I loveee you, Y/L/N.” 

You wanted to say something back but Cedric suddenly stumbled over. Luckily, he caught his balance before he fell face first on the Common Room floor. Draco bumped into him, glaring at the Hufflepuff as he made his way to the group of Slytherins on the other side of the room. When he looked up to meet your eyes, his expression changed. His face became blank, eyes ghosting over your face. Draco gave you a small smile that vanished just as quickly as it came. He turned his back and returned to acting like you didn’t exist. 

Cedric snapped his fingers in front of your face, trying to get you out of your trance. You blinked a few times, now focused on your friend who had a shit-eating smirk on his face. You hissed, “What now, Diggory?”

“Seems like Malfoy’s jealous,” he sang, laughing behind his cup. “I would love to push his buttons and see him completely blow up at this party.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you sighed, stealing his cup and drinking the rest of his disgusting liquid. You grimaced, why did I do that? You continued, “And besides, how would we make him jealous?”

“Like this,” he started. Then, he leaned in your ear, dangerously close to your skin. In a breathy voice, he said, “Pretend I said something funny.” 

You giggled at his antics, thinking of how ridiculous your friend was being. But when you shot a look at where Draco stood, you began to reconsider your original opinion. He was standing there, uninterested by the story Blaise was telling him from beside him. Draco’s nostrils were flared and the cup he was holding was starting to lose its shape with how tightly he was gripping it. He didn’t even bother looking away when you cocked your head to the side to look at him. 

You thought he would’ve done something to get your attention but for the rest of the night, Draco kept his distance. After a while, Cedric gave up, shooting you an apologetic look that his plan didn’t work out. In fact, Cedric left you at the party a few minutes after Cho showed up. He said he was getting tired and was going to head up, but the two weren’t necessarily discreet when Cho left five minutes before Cedric did. You sent a wink his way and began to finish your drink, realizing that there was now no reason for you to stay. 

With a sigh, you tossed your cup into the bin and began to get ready to leave. Draco watched with a panic as you retreated to the exit. He chewed nervously on his bottom lip, unsure of what to do. He watched you disappear into the darkness and slumped his shoulders. 

“Run after her, idiot.” Blaise chuckled beside him. “And hurry up, I’m tired of you sulking.” 

“What?” 

“Go on, Draco,” Blaise simply rolled his eyes and ushered his friend out of the Common Room. “You’ve been staring at her the entire night. I reckon you don’t even know what I’ve been saying all this time.”

Finally coming to his senses, Draco ran after you, getting a hold of your shoulder to pull you towards him. You looked at him, confused as to why he was out of breath and standing there like a deer caught in headlights. He stared at your face, taking in your beauty. He wanted nothing else but to tuck that strand of hair behind your ear or kiss your lips that seemed to be glistening under the glow of the lights in the corridor. 

“Draco?” you asked, removing his hand from your shoulder. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to seem defensive, but in reality, you just missed him. “What do you want?” 

Draco gulped, not realizing that he now has to actually talk to you. He didn’t think he’d get this far. He blushed, gaze averting to the empty hallway behind you. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, a sheepish smile on his face. You leaned forward a bit as if saying, “Well get on with it.” Draco sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. Without thinking, he blurted out, “Are you dating Diggory?”

“What?”

He grimaced, mentally face-palming. That was not what he wanted to say. He groaned, “I mean-”

“You’re a git, you know that?” you hissed, shoving him a bit. “You tell me that we’re not friends and make me feel so bloody stupid then all of a sudden, after not talking to me for weeks, may I add, you think you have the right to ask me about my dating life? You-” you paused, taking in a breath. “You-Draco Malfoy- have no right to ask me anything.” 

He stood there, unable to say anything back. What could he even say? What you said was valid, you had a reason to be upset with him. He has been such an arse to you and for no good reason! Draco knew he was just being stupid. 

You rolled your eyes and walked away, assuming that Draco wasn’t going to say anything else. You scoffed loudly, shooting him a glare as you turned to leave the boy alone in his loneliness. 

Draco called out for you again, “Y/N-”

“Oh and for the record-” you turned around to face him again, but not daring to walk closer to him. “Not that it’s any of your business but me and Cedric are just friends. He’s not the guy I fancy.” 

“Y/N! Merlin, please stop walking away! How do you walk so bloody fast?” Draco jogged towards you again, this time stopping in front of you to prevent you from moving any further. You still wore the same scowl on your face and he couldn’t help but stop and think about how cute you look. He chuckled, eyes lighting up when he saw your lips quirk up to a small smile before it vanished. “I didn’t mean to ask about Cedric. Quite frankly, I don’t care about your relationship, or erm, non-relationship with him. Well, I do b-”

Both of your eyebrows raised in amusement at the boy’s blabbering, “Why would you care about my non-relationship with Cedric?” 

“I just said I don’t, Y/L/N,” he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked up at you, growing more flustered once he saw the smirk on your face. “Okay, yes, I do care but listen… Blimey, how do I say this? I just, Y/N, I-”

“Spit it out, Malfoy.”

“Youbelongwithme.” Draco spoke quickly, almost making you miss what he said.

Mouth agape, you asked, “Come again?”

He sighed, “You belong with me. I fancy you. A lot actually. That’s why I avoided you all this time. I just… I don’t know, you know? I’ve never really fancied anyone before. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Not run away from them,” you teased, laughing lightly at his cluelessness. 

“Alright now, no need to laugh,” he mumbled. “It’s already embarrassing enough confessing my feelings to the girl I fancy but for her to laugh at me is something else.”

“I’m laughing because you’re cute, Malfoy,” you hummed, reaching up to touch his cheek. “But run away from me again and I’ll hex you into oblivion.” 

Draco couldn’t do anything else but nod as your scent filled his senses. You were slowly inching closer to him, breath tickling his lips. He visibly gulped, snaking his hands around your waist to pull your body closer to his. His nose nudged yours, “Promise I won’t.”

“Good,” you whispered, eyes flickering up to meet his own and then looked down at his lips. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. You pushed your lips together, sighing in content as he groaned into your mouth. His lips moved with yours in sync. Both of you were too caught up in the feeling that you didn’t hear the footsteps coming closer to the both of you. 

Someone cleared their throat, making you two jump away from each other, fearing that it was one of the professors. You shook your head, burying your head into Draco’s chest when you realized who it was. Draco wrapped an arm around you, smiling down at your retreated figure. 

Cedric chuckled before walking away, “Told you we could make him jealous.” 

Draco nudged you, “You were trying to make me jealous?”

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. To silence him, you pressed your lips to his again, “Shut up.” 

“Gladly,” he muttered, kissing you deeply.

TAGS:

@rexorangecouny

A/N: i bought cameos from the phelps twins and oliver’s video came in today and it was so lovely. i can’t wait for james’!!

[wxldchxld]

Familiar Profile: Angrboda

This is part of a series I’m doing on my witches and their familiars, starting with Beck, in hopes to update my pages and enrich the backstory of other characters. We will, of course, be starting with Beck and her familiars.

This will be going under my essential hcs page once I have everything properly linked, so I ask you give it a read even if you already know Beck and her familiars.

Species: Feline Breed: Maine Coon (Magically altered) Height: 2″3′ at the withers Weight: Aprox 60 lbs Fur color: Pitch black Eye color: vibrant green Age: Verse dependent. Generally her technical age is only about five years old in modern verses. However, she is a piece of Beck, and mentally has not only her own lived experiences, but Beck’s entire lived experience as well. So in reality, her mental age is however old Beck is. Temperament: Critical, hot-tempered, distrusting, conniving, curious, protective, observant. Talents: Reading, potion making, and minor spell craft.

Beck “found” Angrboda as a kitten. Named Barbie at the time, she was the prized and pampered pet of the unfortunate millionaire whose house Beck happened to be robbing. She hadn’t exactly intended to steal someone’s cat, that’s a bit low even for Beck’s taste, but the little kitten followed her out of the house three separate times. The final time she saw her curled up on the dashboard, patiently waiting for her to start the car, Beck figured it was meant to be.

Even still, her intentions weren’t to make her a familiar. She had Habrok, and the memory of Dawnbreaker still haunting the dark corners of her mind warned her against letting anything too close to her. The transformation happened unconsciously at first, but the closer they got, the less either of them were inclined to stop it. 

Boda was always a strange familiar. Unlike Habrok who was quiet and stand-offish, Angrboda was unabashedly demanding and often violent. She grew like a wildfire, faster and larger than any creature ought to, but magic could have bizarre effects on individuals. It didn’t matter how big she grew, or how much of a terror she became to others, in Beck’s eyes she was still that big-eyed, wobbly kitten trotting at her heel. 

In reality, familiars often latch on to certain aspects of a witch, things they value or aspire to, but sometimes, things they’ve tried to bury. As her transformation occurred, Angrboda lived every moment of cruelty, every memory of betrayal and violence. She saw every fearful look, every sneer, every dismissive glace. She heard the muffled cries of an injured child, cradling her injured hand and felt her gnawing hunger. And she watched as humans and witches alike turned their heads and did nothing to stop it. 

And she hated them.

All the rage her witch had been forced to crush, all the pain she’d been made to ignore, she felt its full force, and she fed off of it, growing bigger and meaner each day. Unlike Habrok, who chose to avoid humans out of an inherit wildness and distrust, Angrboda loathed them from the moment her eyes were opened. 

For the most part, this hasn’t changed. Angrboda is aggressive and snobbish. When Beck’s softer side threatens to make her do something risky, it’s Boda who reels her in. Where Beck might open her heart quickly, Angrboda is always there laying at the entrance, a looming threat to anyone thinking of stabbing her in the back. And Beck is blind to all of this. She can’t honestly see Angrboda’s anger for what it is without addressing it for what it is: a response to years of her own senseless trauma at the hands of cruel or indifferent people.

Boda does calm down as Beck finds her place with certain people, but its slow work, that will usually involve several claw marks and a lot of biting. 

Beck keeps a golden chain with an amethyst crystal pendant around Angrboda’s neck. The crystal is charged with a spell that keeps people from paying too-much attention to Boda or noticing her at all. Of course, if you’re getting attacked by her or having a direct conversation with Beck, the spell is weakened or nullified entirely. It simply enables her to take Angrboda with her wherever she goes without drawing too much attention because of her abnormal size.

**Note** Certain verses may have Angrboda coming into existence through other means, currently the only two that come to mind are my verses within the 100: The Diligence verse and the Eden (aka post s4 verse). But regardless of origin, Boda’s personality, size, and abilities, remain largely unchanged.

[blueprint-han]

on top of the world ↠ hhj.

genre: royal au; fluff inspired by a fucking barbie movie leave me alone okay

⇥ warnings: if having a ballroom dance with hyunjin is a warning, then <3, district names are randomly chosen, not meant in reference to SKZ !!

wc: 1.5 K

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Hwang Hyunjin, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble.

taglist: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz​ @sunoo-luvs 

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @tpwkjerii​ (requests for this are closed now!)

↯ note: dghwey i had literally no idea what to write for your url, so i searched up the full form of “tpwk” and ended up with “treat people with kindness”. I developed it into an idea i already had. Tell me if you like it <33 ⇥ dawn.☀️

↯ note 2: oh... i cannot... write fantasy for the life in me. ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Ladies, all in line.” The instructor clapped her hand, signaling all the princess and lady royals to line up in front of her. You quickly scrambled out of where you were seated, almost doubling over your heels as you tried to wobble your way to the line. 

Oh curse those heels. They were gonna be the reason you crashed headfirst into the floor one day, you were sure. They were those typical pointy, magenta colored pumps that only an expert in poise could pull of properly. Your uniform didn’t help either, layers and layers of clothing — topped of with a jacket, which meant you would be sweating buckets if it weren’t for the air conditioning.

Gosh, you hated being the princess and heir to the next throne. Why couldn’t you just lounge in the courtroom in your sweats and sneakers? They were more fashionable anyway. When your mom had told you that you were gonna attend “Royal Training School”, you’d pictured horse riding in the lush green stables, elegant dinners with rich silverware, and most of all — just having some time away from the royal castle, just having some time for yourself and having fun in that time.

Well, you were in for a huge mess.

It’d been only a week since you attended this place, and you hated it. The place woke you up at 5 a.m., shoved breakfast (which was mostly a piece of “high gluten” bread) to your hands and then took you ballroom dancing. So your day was terrible from the beginning already. There was no horseback riding, no sword fighting, because according to your parents — “princesses didn’t do fights”. Seemed superstitious to you, someone with a forward thinking mind, but what could you do?

Too dazed in your thoughts, your foot slipped and you lurched forward. You yelped loudly, but before you could catch the attention of the class or feel the polished marble against your face, a hand wrapped around your waist, ceasing your fall and holding you mid-air.

“You okay, princess?”

You snapped back into attention, eyes meeting with your classmates, all of them having a shocked look on their faces, and some of them anger. Turning around, you were surprised to gaze into hazel brown eyes that seemed to draw you in without reserve.

“Um..., princess?”

“Ah, yes!” You snapped out of it once again, straightening up as you smoothened the fabric of your shirt. “T-Thank you.” You took once glance at his face, and... wow. He was absolutely ethereal. His golden locks of hair fell perfectly over his temples, he adorned a majestic black suit and by just looking at him, he exuded confidence.

He giggled. “It’s alright, princess. Glad you aren’t hurt.”

“Oh, that-”

“Ahem!” The both of you looked to the side, noticing now how the entire class, along with the instructor were giving you snobby glares. “If you’re done chit chatting, can we start out class, Princess Y/N and Prince Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin. That was a pretty name.

You noticed that there was another line of men, wearing similar attire like Hyunjin, lined up in front of the princesses. “They must be from another academy,” Silent thoughts flooded your mind as you took your place, and your eyes went wide when you found yourself face to face with the Hyunjin guy again, though there was a reasonable distance between the both of you.

“Now, royals.” The instructor chimed, clacking her heels against the surface as she waltzed to the edge of the room. “You’ve been practicing ballroom dancing with yourselves for a while now, so The Head and me decided that it would be a good idea for you to get a little peek of what the actual thing looks like.” She said uninterestedly, picking at the underside of the nails as she started the music.

Immediately, slow, melodious music flooded through the speakers as you looked at one another. and then at the guy in front of you... err, Hyunjin. “You’ve already been partnered up, so get started.”

Your mouth dropped open a bit when you realised what the instructor’s statement meant, almost panicking when all the girls next to you bowed down gracefully, coaxing you to follow the same. Hyunjin did the signature “bow down and lend a hand” pose like his other classmates, and you hesitantly straightened up, lending a hand to him.

Immediately, just like how confident he looked, he pulled you close to himself, settling his hands on your hips as a smirk graced his features.

Ah... so he’d noticed you blushing.

You didn’t know why you were blushing in the first place. You’d never met this person before, but something about him just made the giddy schoolgirl in you bubble up to the surface. You shyly settled your hands on his shoulders, moving along to the beat with his motions... and silently praying your ant’s worth of dancing knowledge would not fuck this up.

“So, should we do the introductions?”

“What?” You asked, almost stumbling on your feet once again. You made a mental reminder to burn the current pair of heels you were sporting.

“Don’t you introduce yourself to the person you’re dancing with?” he heaved a laugh, almost melting at how adorably bashful you were getting in his hold. You were about to mumble a response, but then stopped, gathered your confidence, and smiled sweetly.

“Oh well then, I’m Princess Y/N from District 8; honor to meet you.” You said in a sing song voice, muffling a laugh as Hyunjin twirled you around in his hold and pulled you back. The velvet coat was soft under your touch, and for some odd reason, you wondered how his soft-lookin hair would feel under your palm.

“I’m Prince Hyunjin from District 10; equally honored to meet you,” He tilted his head to the side and you noticed him bite his lip for a second. Brushing it off, you continued swaying to the music, feeling slightly more at ease now.

“How’s school here, princess Y/N? You enjoying?” His tone was respectful, almost like he was talking to a friend he met after many years,

“Nah,” You rolled your eyes, making Hyunjin look at you like a confused puppy, waiting for you to explain. Hyunjin wasn’t used to someone hearing they disliked royal training, especially when he’d found it nothing but enjoying.

“It’s just the same old. “Oh go to ballroom, learn to balance books on your head, walk with grace, eat your food elegantly, dance again. sleep early!” Your voice was a hushed whisper, yet mocking. “You’d think that’s what I should’ve expected, but I wanted to learn sword fighting, horse riding, that kind of stuff. They barely let us outdoors here.” You tsked, watching as Hyunjin bit his lip again.

“What?” You asked, figuring that Hyunjin knew you’d noticed his action.

He chuckled. “Your stepping on my toes.”

“Oh crap I am?” You looed down, pulling your feet farther away from his as an apology crawled up your tongue, but before you could shoot it out, Hyunjin stopped you. “It’s okay.”

“Maybe I’ll step on yours and we’ll get even?” He winked, a smug look on is face as he waited for your reply. The music was basically forgotten at his point, both f you lost in a world where nobody else existed, just you, your thoughts, your words, and your giggles. You mirrored his playful expression. “I’d like to see you try.”

Hyunjin didn’t break eye contact, and you felt a small flutter in your chest when he did so. He lifted his foot, but you were too quick, you moved your foot away the moment he settled his own down, and then for revenge, you stepped on his foot once again.

“Ouch!” Hyunjin shrieked, and thanks to the loud music. no one could hear him. You hadn’t stomped too hard thankfully, but Hyunjin’s cute expression when he crinkled his nose sent you into a spiral of giggles.

“Hey! You’re supposed to treat people with kindness” He pouted, twirling you around once again as he led you to the next spot in the ballroom. Your feet basically slid around at this point, and you didn’t even mind your heels.

“Yeah? That’s what you get for trying to step on a princess’ toes.” You rested your head against his shoulder, muffling your giggles as well as calming your heart at the sudden sprut of confidence.

Hyunjin’s grip on your waist tightened, making you straighten up, faint heat dusting your cheeks. The dance was almost coming to an end, and you wished it could go on forever. You hadn’t had such fun in a while, but unfortunately, Hyunjin didn’t belong to this academy. Sadly, the dance would come to an end.

“Maybe I can teach you horse riding?” Hyunjin inquired, a curious glint in his eyes as he watched your reaction. You gasped in shock.

“Y-you’d be willing to do that?”

“Of course, if you’re up for it.”

“How will we even do that?”

“I mean, you can’t tell me you haven’t sneaked out of the premises at night.”

You remained silent.

“Thought so.” Hyunjin winked again. “So, what do you say?”

You twirled around one more time, moving slightly closer to him when you came back this time. The next moment, the music stopped, and you murmured to him with a smirk pulled at your lips.

“I’d be on top of the world.”

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

[jimlingss]

Moirai [7]

Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 [Finale]

➜ Words: 6.6k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

         ❇ Royal Romances Chapter 3 -Prince Route- ❇   The darkness is pitch black. It’s heavy. Comforting. Eerie. All at the same time.   Anastasia lurks within the shadows, looking both ways with a flickering oil lamp carried in hand. She darts her head down the long corridor and when there isn’t a soul in sight, she sneaks past the archway before pressing her palm against a stone brick behind a marble pillar. There’s a shift, gears spinning and the wall pulls back and to the side, tucking itself in.   She enters through the hidden passageway and the wall seals itself shut again as it never opened.   The cobblestone spiral stairs are dusty and dank without a single window. She cringes and bats her hand in front of her nose, damning him for choosing such an awful place to meet. Who knows what’s down here!   Ugh. A bastard son born will be a bastard life lived.    No amount of effort can make someone noble if they weren’t already born with it. She doesn’t know why she was expecting that man to be dignified.   “I didn’t think you would come so soon.”   The King’s bastard son stands at the landing of the stairs. The spiral staircase seems to descend further behind him, but she isn’t curious to where it leads.   “Hmph.” She turns away, lamp still in hand, and she pulls her shawl closer to her. “I already made up my mind. I want to get rid of that orphan whore, so I’ll do whatever it takes. She dares to try to seduce my fiancé when she doesn’t even know her place.”   The corner of Taehyung’s thin lips curl. “Then by all means, I’ll erase that problem for you.”   The Duke’s daughter turns and her eyes glimmer with intrigue.   The man reaches into the sleeve of his cloak and hands her a tiny vial of green liquid. An emerald jewel on the cap shimmers against the dim candlelight that casts their ominous shadows on the walls.   “It’s poison. One drop in the Empress’ tea cup and you can frame her for it. That’s all it’ll take.”   Anastasia smirks, a rush of air leaving her nose in satisfaction. It might be easier just to dip the tip of a dagger in and stab that wrench with it, but framing her would make Jungkook lose his trust in the girl. He wouldn’t look at her twice. And she’d be executed without the real perpetrator ever being implicated in the crime.   She takes the vial, holding onto it carefully. Yet her eyes flicker up to Taehyung’s. “What’s in it for you?”   “All I want is the empire’s wealth.”   ….. .. .            ❇ Royal Romances Chapter 7 -Prince Route- ❇   Punishment does not come in the form of her stripped title or even her head rolling away from her neck. Punishment arrives in the darkened loneliness. That loss of sanity that whisper she has failed to capture the attention of the only person she ever loved. That she failed to make him love her.   Everything she did, it drove him away.   Every act of love placed distance between them.   Everything.   Liberation comes back with the music of trumpets muffled by the stone walls. “What’s going on?” her voice is hoarse through her parched throat. The servant screams when her arm reaches past the bars to tug on the girl’s dress. Her eyes are bleary as she looks up at the girl. “Why is it so noisy?”   “T-The civil war’s over.” The girl backs away and the celebrations become more distinct with the realization. “The villain is dead.”   The girl withdraws into the cell and cackles rip through her lungs, resounding across the empty chambers. The servant scurries away as the knight huffs out through his nose and shakes his head. But it’s the best news she’s received since she’s been stowed away.    That bastard son — Taehyung.    He was a liar. He tried to kill her beloved Jungkook. He dared to try and replace him. But no amount of effort can make someone noble if they weren’t already born with it.    A bastard son born will be a bastard life lived.    She may have been condemned as his accomplice — she may have been used as his pawn, too blinded by her own affections to realize. But she is mad with joy that she will not die alone.    She can only hope he died a cruel and painful death.   Anastasia cackles again.

You gasp.   Your entire body jolts and you tear yourself up into an upright position. The covers pool in your lap, your white nightgown stuck to your back slick with cold sweat. You press your palm on your forehead, focusing on studying your heaving breath. It was just a nightmare.   Or rather, it was scenes from the original game. The way it was supposed to be.   It felt so real. As if you were Anastasia and those choices and decisions were the ones you made.   The door opens and the maid entering is startled to see you already awake. “Good morning, my lady. It’s still quite early….”   There’s no way you can return to sleep after that. “Today’s a busy day so I’ll get ready now.”   The maid nods and follows after you to the vanity. “Lady Devon has a lilac gown prepared for you today, my lady. The late Queen wore the same colour during the inauguration of the last Head Priestess.”   “Shouldn’t everyone wear it then?”   “Of course not.” The young servant smiles as she runs the brush through your hair. “Only the future queen should.”   Pft. Yeah right. It’s a ridiculous idea that you would ever be queen. Anastasia never had the chance in any route or lifetime and you doubt you will either.   But rather than changing the dress like you normally would, your hand tightens in your lap.   “Bring it to me then.”   As the future Crown Princess, you’re dolled up by several maids. Your tutor paces back and forth, commanding the flurry around you on each of their actions, from a strand of your hair out of place to a loose thread sticking out. Your cheeks are powdered in a soft pink and your lips are painted in the same cherry blossom shade. You feel like a Barbie being dressed up and not in a good way. But thankfully, the dress is simple for the occasion and your hair is plainly clipped back on both sides.    It isn’t a ball after all where people are going to be flaunting themselves. The next two days marks the inauguration of the new priestess. It’ll be a day of celebration and then a day of solemn prayer and song at the empire’s largest cathedral.   Aka, it’s going to be boring as hell.   Once you’re free from outstretched hands touching your body and making sure you’re a photoshopped version of yourself without the photoshop, you head to the gardens for a breath of air. And also to escape Lady Devon’s lectures of how you should ideally behave.   But by now, you already know what she wants to say.   Don’t chew with your mouth open. Keep your back straight. Don’t back talk to your elders. Most importantly, don’t speak to Tae—   “Anastasia!”   The corner of your mouth tugs. “Lucy.”   You shouldn’t be so happy to see the heroine of this story. Not when her existence naturally opposes yours and you purely forged a friendship for your own self-preservation.   But somewhere along the way, you found that she’s the only female who doesn’t look at you any differently. She doesn’t smile just to make you happy. She doesn’t call you just because she has something to gain. Unlike so many others, you know she has no intention of using you.   The girl doesn’t have ulterior motives. Unlike you.   “Good morning.”   “Morning.” You meet her between the bushes of peonies on the cobblestone path. “What are you doing here so early? The play doesn’t start for another three hours.”    “I didn’t want to be late, but I guess I came earlier than expected.” Her smile is sheepish and she lifts her arm, a single white lily held in her fingertips. “I saw this on my way here. I heard it was lucky to have white lilies on the day of the Head Priestess’ inauguration ceremony, so…”   You take her gift. “Thank you.”   The petals are delicate and the fragrance is subtle enough that you lift it to tickle your nose. It’s then and there, while you’re twirling the stem with your fingertips, that you notice a gaze upon you.   By sheer coincidence and coincidence only, it seems like Taehyung was seeking refuge in his corner of the garden again and ran into you. The corner of his mouth lifts, distance kept yet he’s somehow close. You can’t pretend that he’s not there.   Your eyes have locked together.   Immediately, you grab Lucy’s hand and turn to her. “You have no one to accompany you to the Eastern Cathedral tomorrow, right?”   “Uh…”   Before she can answer, you take her to the dark-haired man and smile cordially at him. “Good morning, Your Highness.”   “Anastas—”   “This is Lucienne from the House of Liza.” You drag the girl to your side and she murmurs a timid greeting to him. “I’m sure the two of you must’ve met each other a few times. She has no one to accompany her tomorrow.”   “Anastasia.” Lucy shifts to you. She’s visibly uncomfortable, her brows knitted together, fingers rubbing the skirt of her dress. “It’s quite alright, I don’t need anyone to—”   “Nonsense,” you interject with another friendly smile. “It must be lonely to go by yourself. I’ll be busy with Prince Jungkook. It’s important that you get to know others as well. You shouldn’t latch onto the Prince all the time.”    She’s visibly taken aback at your insinuation. It’s not like you want to be so blunt, but there has to be no room for refusal. This is the only way.   It’s no longer about trying to avoid the three of them. It’s no longer about bringing Lucy and Jungkook together and remaining on the sidelines. If you want to save Taehyung too, you need to use the only person who can do so.   You’ll find other ways to save yourself.   But Taehyung needs her.   “I…”   Your voice remains firm. “You should go with Taehyung.”    Lucy is the heroine of this game. It’s possible that they can end up together instead. She can comfort Taehyung, change his mind about revenge, ease his suffering, rid his grief. She’s the only one who can clear the darkness stowed inside of him.   They don’t know it, but you do.   You push her towards him. The girl stumbles from the loss of her footing and he steadies her by her shoulders.   “S-Sorry!”   “It’s fine,” he brushes off quickly and then turns his head, eyes boring holes in you. “What are you doing?”   Taehyung holds his gaze, searching your impassive expression and the corners of your mouth pulls stiffly. “I’m just joining two people who I think really suit each other. Oh, look at the time! I should leave before I’m late for my morning greeting to my fiancée. I’ll leave the both of you to it then.”   You curtsy hastily and spin around to walk away.   But Taehyung is three steps ahead of you.   His strides are long and he overtakes you easily, stopping your form far away enough that it’s out of Lucy’s earshot. He grabs your arm, pulls you back and stares deeply into your eyes. His frown deepens.   “Is this because of what I did that night of the feast?” he asks in a quiet murmur that makes you swallow hard. You don’t want to be reminded of that. Not now. Not when you’re trying to pay back the favour of saving your life by saving his. “Anastasia, I meant everything I said that night. I meant everything that I was about to do—”   You interrupt him, not wanting to hear anymore of it. It shouldn’t be this hard.   “It’s not that.” You stare directly into his pupils, unwavering in your gaze. “I have to go now.”   You brush past him and don’t glance over your shoulder, even when the temptation is overwhelming.   It really shouldn’t be this hard. You know the future. You know what’s entailed in their destiny.   But why does it seem like you’re making all the wrong choices.   //   Your knuckles rap against the surface. There’s a muffled ‘come in’ and you open the door.   Jungkook is getting ready in front of the mirror. His cape is being pinned perfectly on his back, navy blue jacket with ribbons and golden buttons making him look like the picture perfect prince of every Disney movie. It’s no wonder all the ladies constantly swoon when he passes.   To you, he’s always been that doe-eyed boy afraid of ladybugs. But marrying him wouldn’t be so bad. You’re sure it would be a good marriage. At least one full of respect and mutual understanding.   It would be better than half the marriages in the twenty-first century that ends in divorce.   Jungkook looks at your reflection in the mirror. “Anastasia. What brings you here?”   “I have matters to discuss, Prince Jungkook.”   “Very well.” He looks to the attendants beside him. “Please bring in refreshments.”   “There’s no need.” You quickly stop them and the man in front of you turns, visibly surprised at your rejection of sweets and tea. It’s the main reason why you come to visit each other after all. “This’ll be quick.”   They bow their heads and the doors shut a moment later, giving you and Jungkook privacy.   He pinches the hem of his sleeve. “Did you get in trouble with your tutors again?”   “Jungkook.” Your voice is solemn, your expression even more serious. He looks up and the corner of his mouth falls into a straight line. He follows you to the sofa and sits across from you.   “What’s the matter?” He’s frowning, worried about your changed demeanor.   You take a deep breath, bracing yourself. “We should solidify our engagement as soon as possible.”   Jungkook’s eyes widen. “W...what? Why so sudden?”    “Is it?”   “You’ve never been interested in being queen before.” His eyes narrow in on you and his brows furrow more. “Is this about the Duke and Duchess? Are they rushing you?”   “No.” You shake your head. “This is about me. It’s about us.”   “But this isn’t like you, Anna.”   “Why is it so surprising?!” Your voice is pitched and instead of anger, frantic desperation seeps in. You don’t know why everyone has to make it so difficult for you. “We’ve been engaged since our childhood! It’s only natural to move ahead. Who else are you supposed to marry—?!”   As the words come out of your mouth, it slaps you right back in the face: you’re falling into the same pattern as Anastasia.   Demanding the prince to marry you. Being blunt. Curt. Upset.   It’s so easy. It was as if your entire life was set up to be the villainess.   Oh god. You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what the answer is. You don’t know what choice to make to wind down the best path—   “Anna!” Jungkook calls you for the fifth time in the midst of your meltdown.   You lift your head to find him sitting beside you, his hands firmly squeezing your shoulders. He’s asking you if you’re alright, if you need a healer or some rest to clear your mind. He’s saying how the two of you can talk about this later. But you don’t want later. It’s always been later.   Making choices now for later.   Making plans now for later.   Everything you’ve done is for later down the line and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to reap the benefits or find the happiness you were so desperate to have when you died the first time.   Now. You want someone to shoulder your burdens with right now.   “Jungkook, what if….what if I told you I was from another world and I know the future of this world?”   “What?”   You swallow hard and meet Jungkook’s doe eyes. He searches your visage, unable to comprehend where this is coming from, where you’re going with this. “What if...the only way to save Taehyung is through Lucy? The only way is if they fall in love and she saves him.”   He’s completely lost on that. “Taehyung? What does he need saving from? Who told you he needs to fall in love with her? What?”   Your mouth opens, but you don’t know where to start, how to explain, if he would even believe you in the end. “You just need to trust me, Jungkook. I know things you don’t.”   “I...don’t understand what you’re talking about.” There’s a simmering pause between the pair of you and Jungkook looks carefully at your profile. Then his lips part to speak forbidden words— “Are you in love with Taehyung?”   It’s your turn to be confused. Befuddled. Taken aback.   And Jungkook must read the expression on his face, since he replaces your speechlessness with his own voice. “Otherwise, why would you care so much about him? You’ve never brought anyone up to me before. Not even your own parents, Anna, and I know they make things difficult for you. I’ve never seen you care about anyone else more than you care about yourself.”   You rise to your feet in an instant and turn your back on the man.   “That’s impossible. It’s impossible.”   “Why? I thought you always told me it was okay if we ended up falling in love with other peopl—”   “I said it was okay if you did. Not me.” You don’t get such a privilege. Jungkook is the protagonist, the hero. No matter what route it is, which way the story goes, he always wins. He will always live. But you will either die or be casted away. “It’s different.”   Jungkook has nothing to risk. You have everything.   “Anastasia.”   “Don’t change the subject. I came to tell you that we should move ahead with the engagement. There is no reason you should refuse, Jungkook.”    You turn and leave the room, ending the conversation there.   He doesn’t know. He makes it sound easy. But you can never be with Taehyung.   The Crown Prince’s fiancée and the bastard son. What a pair that would be.   As long as you’re living in this world, in this society, any relationship deeper than an acquaintanceship would bring disaster. It’s not as simple as falling in love, calling off the engagement, eloping together far away. This isn’t a fairy tale. This isn’t a romance narrative.   It’s life. A society that scrutinizes and shames. A culture that slanders names with scandals.   The Devereux house will fail anyway and you don’t care about soiling your reputation and being outcasted. But the King would deem it treasonous. The royal family’s reputation would be marred and ruined, and he would never accept that. He was already unhappy when Taehyung danced with you at the debutante ball, when Taehyung handed you the Hunt’s prize, when Taehyung rescued you from being kidnapped. And you cannot risk your life and Taehyung’s like that any more than you already have.   Jungkook is terribly naive if he thinks it could ever work.   //   The royal court is lively with warm drums and bright flutes that echo throughout the capital.   Famous minstrels and troubadours across the empire have come to perform for the King, having made their way through the streets in the morning for the commoners as well. He smiles in approval from his throne, the middle-aged priestess to be coordinated tomorrow seated beside him and the pair look to be enjoying the show.   Your parents are no exceptions either, seemingly relishing in the festivities. They’ve brought Edith and Joan in tow as part of their entourage, faces you never thought you’d miss. The former nods her head at you in silent greeting and the latter smiles, but you don’t get a chance to speak to either of them. Not when your parents have kept their distance.   It seems like the last incident has made them rethink their involvement in your affairs. And for that, you’re glad you’ve been granted a little more freedom.   Marquess, earls, counts, viscountess and barons seated around speak to one another in between performing acts, sipping on their wine as the afternoon sets into evening. Once in a while, laughter sparks through the courtyard and thunderous applause succeed performances.   But unlike them, you can’t enjoy it.   In spite of sitting next to Jungkook and visibly smiling, the space in-between the pair of you is tense and stiff. Lucy sits a few rows down from where she is beside her father and you can tell she’s uncomfortable with what happened earlier by her expression that never seems to ease.   All of it would be easy to ignore. If not for Taehyung’s gaze.   He’s standing in the corner against the stone walls that line the courtyard, inconspicuous but not to you. A glance at a crowd and you could still pick him out in an instant. But he doesn’t watch the play, doesn’t watch the musical performances or the acrobatics twisting around. He looks at you. As if that alone could figure out your intentions, like he could deduct what’s in your mind.   You don’t spare him a peek. Even when it’s difficult to resist.   You avoid him until the very end.   //   The moon is full, a perfectly round sphere that’s golden. Like a firefly amidst the blanket of stars. It isn’t brighter than the sun, but not any less beautiful.   Taehyung stares up at the horizon and then his eyes stray to marble railings. He floats up to your balcony and his feet touch against the white, stone flooring. He won’t let you run away.   The room is dark, but he makes out a lump in the bed that’s turning and twisting. Taehyung knocks against the glass door and the figure freezes before it moves a moment later.   Within a minute, the door opens and you emerge into the golden moonlight. “Taehyung? What are you doing here? You’re not allowed to be here,” you whisper harshly, looking both ways of the castle grounds while tugging the white, laced shawl around your shoulders closer.   “I had to come see you,” Taehyung gazes into your eyes tenderly and he leans down to capture your hand gently in his. The skirt of your nightgown flutters in the warm breeze. “I know there’s something wrong. Did Jungkook do something? Did he say something?”   You shake your head.   “Then why push me away?”   You turn from him, ripping your hand away from his grasps. “I don’t know what you mean.”   Taehyung grabs your arm and your head whirls back to him, eyes connecting. “You know exactly what I mean.”   “I’m engaged.”   “To a person you don’t even love.”   Your eyes widen and your brows furrow. “You don’t know that.”   “I love you.”    It’s a bold confession spoken from his lips, his deep timbre that doesn’t lack any sincerity.    An earnest proclamation that has your heart stuttering in your chest, your breath hitching in your throat. Your heartbeat is thunderous in your ears and something stirs in the pit of your stomach at the sorrowful expression Taehyung looks at you with. He murmurs, “I was going to take that secret to the grave, but I can’t stand by and watch you like this. I love you. Be with me.”    Be with me.   A three word plea. Whispered secretly on a full-moon night. An affection full of warmth that you never had the privilege of receiving before in your past life or this life. Until now.   You never thought it would be like all those cheesy movies — Love Actually, Pride and Prejudice, the Notebook. But nope. They’re right. When you hear a love confession, when you hear someone say ‘I love you’ and ‘be with me’, it really does make you overwhelmingly happy.    It makes you want to cry. It makes you want to hug him, kiss him, throw your arms around him and scream ‘yes’. It makes you imagine the rest of your life, growing old with someone you love.   But you stagger away from Taehyung. No.   No. It can’t be. He can’t love you. No.   You aren’t Juliet. Elizabeth Bennet. Allie.   This isn’t your love story. You aren’t the main character. And this most certainly won’t have a happy ending.    Taehyung was never supposed to love Anastasia.    This is a mistake. An accident. Repercussions to your actions.   “Don’t mistake sympathy for feelings of love.” You surprise yourself at how stern your voice sounds, never once wavering. You suppose years of growing up in the Devereux household and being put under rigorous training allowed you to control your exterior well. “I don’t love you. You don’t love me, Taehyung.”   “You’re wrong.” He steps forward, closing the distance, as firm as you are. “I’ll even fight for the throne if you want. I’ll fight Jungkook if that’s what it takes for you to be by my side—”   “No!”    The scream echoes in your own ears, loud and shrill enough to bring alarm. “Please. Don’t. Don’t.”   It’s then and there, in the throes of his reckless promises, it slams into you — the realization of how desperately you don’t want to see Taehyung die.   You don’t want to witness his tragic ending. And you don’t want him to do it for you.   Taehyung’s expression is crumpled in anguish and his arm lifts, hand extending. The pad of his thumb tenderly wipes away the tear that’s streaked down your cheek. The corner of his mouth upturns, but the sorrowful smile never reaches his eyes. “Do you hate the idea of being with me that much that you’re crying?”   “No...Taehyung…”   He withdraws. “I’m sorry.”   Taehyung gazes at you and then he shuts his eyes, falling backwards off the balcony. You cry out in absolute terror and your legs lurch forward towards the railings. Your arms snap out to grab him, but your fists merely catch the passing wind.   He’s vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but traces of magic in the air.   You collapse onto the floor, grasping at the banister as sobs wreck through your body. “T-That’s...not...i-it—”   The matter of life or death should be simple. The choices should be easy. But you don’t know why each path you choose has its own tragedy, why happiness never seems to come.   Why can’t you control your own destiny?

A wheeze tears from the bastard son’s mouth.   His ruined hands are wrapped around his silver staff until his bloodied knuckles have morphed white. But it’s his leverage, keeping him standing on his shaking legs. He may have lost but he refuses to collapse until his last breath has been taken. His pride won’t allow him otherwise.   “Why?”   He lifts his head and locks eyes with the impassive Prince, dignified and noble. A hero to all. A brother who he never deemed as a brother. Only in blood and never truly in name.    “Why did you do this?”   The corner of Taehyung’s mouth curls. Even on the battlefield when they are both armoured and armed with weapons — in the moment of death — Jungkook is as oblivious and ignorant as when he was a mere child.    Taehyung spares a thought as to what it feels like to be that naive. He concludes it is a privilege.   “W-hy….d..o...you...think?”   The Forgotten Prince’s feet sinks into the mountain of brittle bones. He had to bring the dead back to life through necromancy to build an army for this war. No one would fight on his side after all. No one’s ever wanted to fight on his side.   But even so, he was never able to bring himself to revive his mother.   But it’s foolish he didn’t. She may have just been a marionette doll with tangled strings, a simple outer shell of a real human being, but he regrets not doing it. He should’ve.   Even if it was just to see her for a moment.   But it is a regret too late. He has another wish he wants to achieve in these last moments.   Taehyung chokes out that girl’s name.    He didn’t know he would have feelings for her. He was simply intrigued. Anything that belonged to his brother was always something worth envy. And he wasn’t wrong. She was a pawn on the opponent’s side who turned out to be more valuable than the queen.   “P-Please….” Blood curdles at the back of his throat, thickening his words into pathetic sputters. “Let me...see her….on.e….las...t….tim..e…”   “I’ll never let you see her.”    The Prince’s hands tighten on the handle and he rips the sword out of his abdomen in a single motion. The sound of silver cuts sharply through the air and Taehyung drops to his bruised knees. His own blood has splattered across his visage, scarlet drenched on ashy skin.   The Prince stands tall, the very furrow of his brows jarring against the cold, cordial expression he maintains. It’s an expression of contempt, of hatred and indifference. His shadow looms over him, the status he was born with intrinsic in his sheer presence.    “All...I...ever..wanted….was to be you. To be...powerful...to have everything you have.”    The Forgotten Prince rests against his staff and shuts his eyes. He ponders for a mere moment if he will be able to see his mother after this. But if there is such a thing as an afterlife, it’s still unlikely that fate would grant him such peace and refuge.   “I...d..idn’t...want….to...be...aban..doned…”   The remnants of magic surges through his veins and with a weak flick of his wrist, Taehyung’s last magic summons the girl who had occupied his thoughts. She appears in front of him, manifesting with his spell, and she screams.   Jungkook calls out to her and they embrace. He holds her, covering her body with his arm.   The two of them look down at Taehyung in fear and disdain.    But her vicinity is enough for him. He wonders when he became this pathetic. Or if he was always this way as their villain.   Taehyung chokes on the blood curdling at the back of his throat, but his lips upturn into a smile.    He mouths her name and dies at their feet.   ….   Anastasia.   You wake up with a gasp tearing from your chest. Your breath heaves out of you and tears coat your cheeks and the pillow beneath your head. Most of all, your chest fucking hurts like your heart’s about to burst. So you call for a maid at the top of your lungs and within seconds, someone scatters in.   “My lady?”    “Water,” you croak and she nods.   A glass is presented in front of you within moments and you down the entire thing, able to calm yourself down once you’ve finished. The maid notices your sweaty form and asks if you would like to change clothes, but you wave her off and she leaves.   Your worst fear came to life in a nightmare.   Instead of calling the heroine’s name, Taehyung called yours.   //   The ceremony at the Eastern Cathedral is exactly like all other events and celebrations in the castle.   Boring. Tedious. Like sitting in a lecture hall with the most unenthused professor droning on about the art of paint drying. Except you have to slap a friendly smile on you, sit straight, make small talk and pretend you’re intently listening. You wish cardboard cutouts were a thing, so you could just slap a picture of yourself in your seat instead of having to deal with it.   But the entire ordeal keeps your mind from wandering about last night.    There’s something about pretending that you’re fine that makes you feel fine after a while. Like you’ve tricked your own self into being okay.   You’re even anxious once it’s over. Once the quiet has settled back in.   Many of the guests leave, viscounts and countesses bidding their farewells from the cathedral and getting into their carriages. After you’ve sent off Lady Devon and you’re free of her scrutiny, you quickly turn around to find Jungkook and get out of here.   The last thing you want is to run into Taehyung right now. You don’t know if you’ll be able to manage your reactions, control your expressions.   But on your way back, your attention is taken by an elderly priestess dressed in white robes with a cane, hobbling around. Her hands are outstretched and she bats the air. She’s blind.   “Excuse me, do you need help?”   “Oh, yes, please, that would be wonderful.” She smiles and the tens of wrinkles on her face crease. The old lady reminds you of your grandma and the corner of your mouth quirks. You take her hand and place it on your arm, guiding her. “I’m usually not so clumsy but I lost my way and had to re-orientate myself. You can just bring me into the side house, it should be on the West side of the cathedral grounds.”   You look around and spot it around the building. “It’s this way.”   “Are you here for the ceremony?”   “Yes, I am.”   “How nice, Emelisse will make a fine Head Priestess. Her holy magic is quite powerful.”   You hum and get to the smaller building within two minutes. The doors are already open, so you peek inside to see if anyone’s there to take the old lady, but there’s no one. “We’re here.”   The Priestess reaches out and grabs the door frame. She smiles and gets up the steps herself, but not before turning around. “Thank you. Not many people would personally aid me in this day and age, and for that I’m thankful.”   “It’s not a problem.”   It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to speak so casually to someone. But it’s relaxing to forget about your titles. You don’t have to be the Crown Prince’s Fiancée. The future Queen. Or the heir of the Devereux house.   You’re just Anastasia. Y/N. A mix of both that makes you you.   “Would you be willing to hear an old secret in exchange for helping me?”   “Uhhhhh…..” You glance over your shoulder. There’s no palace guards or Jungkook in sight.   You really don’t want to stick around for too long. But you remember your grandma got pretty lonely towards the end of her life and was willing to talk to door-to-door salesmen for a good hour or two until they wanted to run away and blacklist the house from their list. Bless her heart.   You decide to indulge the old woman, so you go along with it. “Sure.”   “I once knew a woman, a kind but poor woman. She was with child,” her voice croaks and you lean in closer, realizing it’s juicy gossip and it sparks intrigue. “The father of that unborn child wasn’t very happy to know that child was coming into existence, so she, worried, came to see her fortune and her child’s on the eve of the Solar Festival.”   The old Priestess holds the handle of her cane with both hands, placed in the middle of her body. She faces the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin as she continues the story.   “She came to this cathedral and they told her about doom and her child’s inevitable doom. Desperate and heartbroken, she begged to find a way to deviate from such a fate. She wanted to do anything she could to change the predetermined destiny of her unborn child.”   Your brows furrow. You begin to wonder why she’s telling you this. “And?”   “She did a ritual of dark magic to search for a soul that would protect her son.” The old woman shakes her head. “She defied the laws of destiny itself without knowing the pain it would cause.”   “But through sheer will, she broke it!” The Priestess smiles, her voice having been a murmur drawing you in. “She found a fitting soul and that soul was sent to another dimension before this one to learn about what was to come, so that they could protect her son.”   You stagger back. Breath caught in your throat. Blood draining from your face.   There’s no way. It can’t be.   But everything aligns. It matches perfectly.   “W-What happened next?”   The woman hums a low note and you realize too late that she’s the former Head Priestess, the one who had just stepped down. “I’m not quite sure what the ending to that story is since that soul wrapped in dark magic is standing right in front of me.”   The former Head Priestess smiles gently and turns around, entering inside her abode. She leaves you standing rooted to the ground on your own as it dawns upon you —   It was all on purpose.   Being reborn into this world. Having memories of your past life. Being burdened with the knowledge of what fates there are, what the future holds. All along, it was to serve your purpose: to protect Taehyung.   Your destiny was entangled with him even before this lifetime.    But you’ve already failed. You let his mother die. And now his own time is running out.   You turn around. The urge to see him overwhelms your very being. You have to tell him how you really feel. You’re not just Anastasia. You’re Y/N. And you won’t allow the original storyline to confine your choices anymore.   None of this was an accident. You weren’t messing anything up. None of your actions, your feelings or his are wrong. Nothing was a mistake. You’ll find a way to save Taehyung, to be with him.    You have to.   In the south courtyard of the cathedral, by sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you see him there. Of all the places of these vast grounds where he could be, you still found him.   “Taehyung!”   You call out to him and he turns at the sound of your voice. But then your smile falls. Your feet slow. By coincidence, an arrow soars towards him, slicing through the air.   You shout at the top of your lungs and Taehung whips his head around. The tip of the arrow freezes an inch away from his nose and clatters to the ground through his magic. But then five more arrows splits the sky and flies towards him. Taehyung dodges, stops another, but one catches him in the arm.   He sharply inhales.    A scream of his name tears from your throat.   Taehyung winces and rips the shaft of the arrow out of his skin. He looks at the tip before throwing it away. He can feel the poison spreading in his veins, bleeding inside of his body. It inhibits his magic and before he can yell at you to get away, another arrow spirals in the horizon.   He shuts his eyes. Taehyung feels an impact. But the pain never comes.   His eyes shoot open, brows knitting together and his mouth draws open when he sees you.    Your arms have wrapped around his body in a warm embrace, shielding him away, protecting him like you were meant to. The end of the arrow has pierced into your shoulder.    But you can’t feel it.   Taehyung shouts your name and you collapse. He holds your body in his arms, cradling your head against his shoulder as he screams from the pit of his stomach for help. And you watch him through foggy eyes, a smile gracing your lips.   You’re glad he’s not hurt.   Your hand slowly lifts to caress his cheek and he looks at you.   “I….fi..nally came….on time, Tae...hyung.”

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 25: Riding a Bike

Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Jamie was simultaneously in Heaven and in Hell.

The Heaven part was Claire Beauchamp’s hand laced in his, walking from the parking meter to the restaurant on the water, down port in Port Jefferson. If dinner was as long as he’d planned for, the timing would be perfect for them to be walking around just as the sun was setting so that the colors would dance on her skin, in her curls, in her eyes. She was so much more relaxed than she was on that first date, so much more comfortable in the restaurant this time, one by the name of Old Fields. She loved that they could see the water, loved the flowers and wee plants around them at their outdoor table (he knew she would), loved the string of lights crisscrossing back and forth above their heads. She was illuminated like an angel.

The Hell part was what he’d committed to doing after this.

Not that it would be Hell, not at all. Christ, the thought of giving himself to her that way, the thought of her being his first (and only, if he had anything to say about it, though he couldn’t exactly say that this early without sounding like a nutter), the thought of finally giving in to those urges he’d felt since the first time she’d pressed her body against his in that bloody office…

That too, was Heaven.

But the waiting. The anticipation.

Christ, he was nervous.

He wanted to do it right, wanted to please her, wanted her to like it. He wanted her to like it as much as he already knew he would. He didn’t want to lose his head, or lose it too soon. He’d heard his friends ribbing each other as teenagers, how they’d lost it nearly the second they were inside for their first time. Claire deserved better than that.

Then he remembered she hadn’t been pleasured as such in years, and his throat went dry. He couldn’t disappoint her. He just couldn’t. It was not an option.

“Jamie?”

“Hm?”

He was pulled from his whirling thoughts by that reminder of Heaven, her gentle voice, warm, soft fingertips on his wrist; on his pulse, he realized. He looked up into her face when he realized she was not going to say anything else, and saw her gazing softly at him, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

“You’re very loud without saying a word,” she said.

Jamie chuckled nervously, feeling himself blush. “Aye, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” she tightened her grip on his wrist. “That’s not why I said that.” He wet his lips, nodding. “Are you…nervous? About…later.”

Throat dry, causing pain when he swallowed, he nodded. “Feels foolish, but aye.”

“It’s not.” Her thumb rubbed calming circles over his pulse, and it felt like she was literally soothing his heartbeat back to a steady rhythm. That was her affect, her healing touch, her magic. “It’s normal. I’m…I am, too.” He watched a beautiful blush begin at her sternum and creep its way up her neck and into her face, like watching flowers bloom up and down a vine.

“But I…” she went on, breathing shakily. “I really, really want to, Jamie.”

Jamie thought he might just die.

Her voice was low and husky in a way he’d never heard, and she did not break eye contact. He nodded, his jaw agape.

“Aye,” he somehow managed to stutter. “I…I do, too.”

She brought his fingers to her lips, and he prayed she would not feel how clammy his hand was.

“Worrying about it now won’t change anything that happens later,” she whispered, causing the hairs on his hand and wrist to stand on end, tickled by her breath. “It’ll be okay.”

And though he still felt like he might vomit, or faint, or keel over, he knew she was right.

He tried to focus instead on the menu, on the bread basket in between them, on watching Claire break the bread into pieces before putting it in her mouth, not biting it. He tried to think of those hands, delicately breaking bread, holding surgical equipment, of those fingers tying stitches, stroking the brow of a frightened child on a stretcher. And then the bread was popped between her lips, and he could think of nothing but those lips, doing…well…

The waiter thankfully interrupted that next train of thought, and they each ordered. Jamie ordered the buttermilk fried chicken, which came with cornbread, coleslaw, and french fries, which he swapped for sweet potato fries. He caught a glint in Claire’s eye when he asked for the substitution, and he immediately knew she’d be having quite a few of those fries. Claire ordered butternut squash ravioli, and Jamie smiled as he handed the waiter their menus. He’d have to make that for her sometime; he wasn’t too bad at ravioli and other pasta dishes if he did say so himself.

The more rounds of drinks they got, the more relaxed they both felt, and the more Jamie could look at the lights dancing on Claire’s skin without thinking of the terror of the rest of her skin being bared to him.

Well, not entirely.

It was always there, in the back of his mind, but Claire’s melodic laugh, her pensive gaze as she stared over the water, the way she jumped when the ferry horn blared, and that damned healing touch of hers always pulled him back out of his head. She talked about patients and incidents at work, about Joe saving her sanity nearly once an hour, about Faith’s new habit of laying out every one of her barbies on the coffee table in the morning and leaving them there untouched until it was bedtime, only to repeat the process every morning, about how Faith arranged the furniture in her dollhouse. Jamie talked about his own clients, about how great Faith was doing with Jessica, and he told a particularly long anecdote about his one client with Down Syndrome, Holly.

“I dinna ken what to do about that one,” Jamie said, shaking his head. “She’s making braw progress, just great. Her fine motor is getting so much better, her strength is improving, she communicates great wi’ the horse and wi’ us. But she…Christ, how do I say it…”

“She has a crush on you,” Claire said, putting her chin in her hands and smiling.

“Aye! How d’ye know?”

“I’ve seen her at the events. She’s the sweetest thing, but she’s especially sweet to you,” Claire said, her eyes bright with mirth. “How old is she again?”

“Eleven,” Jamie said. “The problem is, she does so well wi’ me, right? But I dinna ken if it’s just because she’s, well, sweet on me. And is that ethical? For her to progress so well because she’s sweet on a grown man more’n twice her age?”

Claire laughed. “Well, it isn’t your fault. You do what you can for her and you keep it professional. She’ll outgrow it, I’m sure.”

“I’m no’ so sure,” Jamie said. “Doesna help that her mam encourages her.”

“Perhaps she has her own crush and she’s living vicariously through Holly.” Claire took a cheeky sip of wine, and Jamie barked with laughter.

“Shameless, Sassenach.”

“What? It’s quite difficult for a woman to resist someone like you. And good with kids, and animals?” She put down her wine glass. “You’re a dreamboat, darling. I’m quite aware how lucky I am. And I would be even if the other moms weren’t constantly reminding me.”

The thought made Jamie blush; all the mothers ogling at him from where he couldn’t see, telling Claire about said ogling.

Claire suddenly shook her head, mouth and eyes wide with disbelief.

“What?”

“It’s like…you don’t even know.” She rested an arm on the table, leaning her chin in her other hand.

“Dinna ken what?”

She bit her lip, perhaps stifling a laugh, or trying to stop herself from saying it. “I’ll…I’ll tell you later.”

His stomach flipped.

When dinner arrived, Claire did steal quite a few of his sweet potato fries, and he didn’t have it in him to tease her for it. She thoroughly enjoyed her own meal, and he catalogued that knowledge away, along with the knowledge of her love of sweet potato. They skipped dessert, Jamie promising her well-priced ice cream instead.

Said ice cream was obtained at a little shop tucked away at the corner of a narrow pedestrian cobblestone walkway. Claire was completely enamored with every little shop and cafe they passed, remarking how “sweet” or how “darling” everything looked, and Jamie wanted to kiss her senseless.

He ordered moose-tracks, which Claire had apparently never had, and Claire got her usual soft-serve vanilla with rainbow sprinkles on a cone. Jamie gave her a bite of his, and she nodded in approval, saying she might actually get that next time.

Next time.

The thought of an endless future of holding Claire’s hand at sunset with ice cream on her tongue was making him dizzy.

They strolled closer and closer to the water, chatting and eating. Claire insisted Jamie have a lick of her ice cream since she’d tried his, but Jamie was certain she just wanted to watch him make a mess of his face with the quickly melting mess. She got her wish, if that was her intention.

When they reached the beach, Jamie asked Claire to hand him her shoes; the wedges she was wearing were not conducive to walking in the sand. She obliged, and they walked on. They walked along the shoreline, passing groups of young people with grilles, families or couples with dogs. There was even a lone swimmer, stroking valiantly in the near still water.

Claire was looking out over the harbor, at the boats, the birds, the colors in the sky. “This really is so beautiful, Jamie.”

“I’m glad ye like it,” he said. “I used to come here by myself just to think. I come wi’ Toni to get food and people watch. It’s very fine to have you here.”

She bit into her cone, and he smiled, finally giving into the urge to kiss her cheek, even as she chewed.

They eventually found their way to a dock, and they sat on the edge, dangling their feet, Claire’s shoes sitting behind them. The sun was mere minutes from setting now, and Jamie’s heart could have burst. He’d calculated the timing just right; he’d gotten to see all of nature’s glowing colors in various states of sunset reflected on Claire’s skin, her hair, her eyes. He could swear that her eyes literally changed color depending on the color of the light around them. She was truly ethereal, so much so that his stomach settled for the first time all night.

They sat swinging their feet, Claire resting her head on Jamie’s shoulder, Jamie holding her against him. It was perfect. The scent of her was driving him mad, that sweet perfume, lemongrass, and that deep herbal essence that always permeated her, likely from her garden. Then they were kissing, madly and deeply, and someone could have docked their boat right next to them and Jamie wouldn’t have noticed.

——

When Jamie opened the back door of his car to retrieve Claire’s overnight bag for her, she noticed that he wiped his hands on his trousers before actually picking up the bag.

He was sweating.

She wanted to tell him that it was going to be alright, that it was not going to be as terrifying as he dreaded, that she’d be happy no matter how he performed.

Not that she wasn’t thinking about how he would perform.

It was perhaps a bit unfair to place such high expectations on him. He was virginal after all. But God, there was something about him that had Claire convinced that she wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. And she eagerly awaited it.

She’d wanted him, very badly, for a long, long time. Longer than she cared to admit. And she very well might finish at the first contact and then he’d have nothing to worry about.

Before Claire could reveal her horrendously mortifying train of thought, Jamie was unlocking the front door. He lived on the bottom floor of his building, and there were outdoor entrances like there were at her building.

“It’s no’ much,” he said sheepishly, turning on the lights. “Bachelor pad, after all.”

Claire looked around the living room they stepped into, her chest warming. “It’s lovely.”

There was a gray couch facing a not-too-big tellie, a coffee table in the center of a woven blue area rug that matched the tartan blanket draped over the back of the couch. There were burgundy-red throw pillows that matched the red on the tartan.

“Fraser tartan,” Claire said, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. “Right?”

“Aye,” Jamie said eagerly, beaming. “Ye remembered.”

“Remembered?” Claire snorted. “I have been entirely unable to forget the sight.”

She moved on to examine photos on the wall behind the couch, and she saw him blush out of the corner of her eye. She recognized Jenny and Ian from pictures on Jamie’s phone; there were photos from their wedding with Jamie in them, photos of the children, with and without Jamie. There was a photo of three cheesy grins on eager children, two of them redheaded little boys. The one in the middle leaned heavily on his sister and brother, grinning the brightest of all. Willie.

Above them was a photo of them with their parents. Ellen was beautiful. Like a Goddess or an Amazon. Her jawline could cut ice, and her high cheekbones gave way to cat-like eyes.

“You look so much like her,” Claire said softly. She felt him come up closer behind her.

“Thank you.”

She turned to offer him a sad but loving smile, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her head on his shoulder. Her eyes wandered over Ellen and Brian’s wedding photo, both of them elegant and regal, Brian in his full Fraser regalia, Ellen in a gorgeous, very eighties gown.

“Your family is so beautiful, Jamie.” Claire gave him a squeeze. “Just looking at these I can tell how much love there is between all of you.”

Claire had always wondered what it was like to have family like that. Of course Lamb had been her family, and she loved him endlessly. She always would. But family like this, family to fill a wall with and look at similarities between…she’d never had such a thing. So she always wondered.

“I can’t wait to meet them someday.”

She said it softly, so softly that she might be able to take it back if she needed. But Jamie squeezed her back and kissed the top of her head.

“I canna wait either, mo ghraidh.”

They took off their shoes and moved into the kitchen, the counters empty and spotless save his coffee maker and a blender, quite unlike the ever-present mess in her kitchen. There were white roses in the center of the table, and Claire got the distinct feeling that he didn’t always have such a thing.

“For you, Milady.” He gallantly offered her a rose from the bunch, and she deeply inhaled its fresh scent, looking up at him through her lashes. The whisky came next, and then they were on the couch, glasses in hand, rose tucked behind Claire’s ear. They would go back and forth between talking animatedly, laughing, teasing, and then utter silence, sipping their glasses uncomfortably, sweat pooling at the base of Claire’s back. And probably under her arms. This went on for far too long before Claire decided to say something.

“So — ”

“Listen, I —”

They both snapped their mouths shut, blushing fiercely. They stumbled apologies over each other, but then Claire stopped it all.

“You first,” she insisted.

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “I was ehm…gonna…well…” He ran a hand through his hair, and Claire’s heart strained to see it was trembling. “I dinna ken what to do right about now. I mean, I ken what to do!” he corrected quickly, but he hadn’t needed to. Claire knew what he meant. “It’s just — ”

“No, I know. I know what you mean.” Claire took another sip of her drink. “I don’t…know what’s next either.”

Jamie laughed, a shaky, nervous sound. Claire wanted to take him in her arms and soothe him, kiss away all his fear. Yet she also wanted to pounce him right there, make him spill his whisky all over that beautiful carpet and drag him to the bed and leave it there until morning.

Though that didn’t seem very productive.

“I was going to say that you don’t have to worry about condoms,” Claire said, nodding curtly. “I mean, I know you don’t have anything, and I don’t. Unless you want — ”

He shook his head. “I trust ye.”

Claire nodded. “And well, I’m on the pill. So.”

He nodded thoughtfully, sipping his drink again. She saw the unasked question in his eye. She didn’t need to prove to him that she wasn’t just ready to start sleeping around at any given moment, but she wanted to.

“I took it even before I started having sex,” she explained. “Bad periods. Really bad.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright,” Claire waved it off. “It was convenient when I started having sex. Then Frank wanted kids right after getting married even though I was still in medical school, so I went off it. Went right back on it as soon as I could after Faith was born.”

“Frank wanted kids?”

She saw the regret as soon as he said it, flashing in his eyes like a storm.

“Exactly,” Claire said. “I don’t need to tell you of all people that Faith is my joy and blessing and…everything to me,” she said, her chest aching. “But…I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to even start trying until the age I am now. Pregnancy and infancy during med school was really hard.”

“I canna imagine.” He put a hand on her knee, squeezing. “Ye’re brave, Claire. And strong.”

She smiled weakly. “I didn’t feel like it at the time. I couldn’t even say no to him. Even though I knew why he was doing it.”

He didn’t want to ask, she could tell. He squeezed her knee harder and rubbed his thumb over her kneecap.

“He thought I’d give it up,” she said simply, shrugging. “Being a doctor. If I had children. Thought I’d resign myself to barefoot and pregnant.”

Jamie’s every feature darkened. Claire covered his hand with hers on her knee.

“I’m sorry we got into that tonight. I didn’t mean…at all…”

Unprompted and unexpectedly, Jamie’s lips met hers, harder than they had all night. He pulled away, and Claire felt breathless.

“What was that for…? I didn’t exactly set the mood…” Claire rolled her eyes in admonishment of herself.

“I admire the hell out of you, Sassenach.”

Overwhelmed with affection, Claire kissed him back.

When they pulled apart, Claire took note of the time from the digital clock on the cable box.

“I need to call Gail, get the updates, make sure Faith went down okay,” Claire said, reaching for her phone. Gail and Delia were spending the whole night at the apartment rather than Faith sleeping at their house; Claire had been worried that Faith would panic if nighttime routine was not at home.

“Do you want to…” Claire put her drink down on the coffee table as she pulled out her phone. “Meet me in the bedroom?”

She thought he might drop his drink; she almost jerked her hand forward to catch it.

“Ah — yes, aye, that’s fine,” he stammered. He set his glass down beside hers and stood up. “I’ll just…do that.”

She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. If she hadn't already had three overtly sexual encounters with this man, these interactions would convince her that she was in for a rough night.

Gail gave a glowing report for Faith’s behavior and informed Claire that she and Delia were fast asleep, Delia in her sleeping bag next to Faith’s bed. Claire thanked her for the millionth time in just that one phone call, and then she hung up. She suddenly got the urge to wipe her palms on her dress. Now she was sweaty.

Christ.

She took a deep breath, in the nose, and out the mouth.

It’s just sex, Beauchamp. It’s like riding a bike.

Just sex…

It couldn’t ever be just sex with someone like Jamie. Not when she was his first, not when she felt…the way she did about him.

Christ.

She forced herself off the couch, swaying only slightly when she stood, and not from the alcohol.

She made sure she was breathing as she headed in the direction that Jamie had gone and into the room. His head popped up from his task. He was turning down the comforter, having already put the throw pillows on the floor in the corner.

“Yer bag is on the dresser,” he gestured to the dresser where there was, indeed, her overnight bag. She briefly wondered if she’d even bother sleeping in pajamas, then the image of her naked body pressed tightly against his seared her mind, and she thought she might fall over.

“Faith alright?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, she’s asleep, Gail said she was great. Stubborn about dinner, wanted to eat Delia’s food instead of her own, but Gail was able to get it straightened.”

Please, do keep drawling on about your five year old while Jamie Fucking Fraser turns down his bed to fuck you in.

“Good, glad to hear it.” He flashed her a grin, then straightened up. “The bathroom is an ensuite. Right through there.” He gestured, and Claire nodded in acknowledgement.

Then there they stood, six feet apart from one another, no excuses left. Jamie wiped his palms on his pants, and Claire fought the urge to do the same on her dress. It was yellow, another high-low dress with flowing cap sleeves. How she hadn’t managed to sweat through it yet was beyond her.

Jamie took a step forward, hesitantly. “I’d like to kiss ye now, Sassenach. If that’s alright.”

Claire inhaled on a gasp, then exhaled tremulously. She nodded without words, taking her own step forward.

Like riding a bike.

He closed the gap between them, cupping her face sweetly.

Like riding a bike with someone that makes your heart feel like it’s going to explode from  beneath your sternum.

He dipped down and kissed her, gentle as ever. In the back of her mind, in a place that she wished would shut up, she prayed that he wouldn’t be that gentle all night.

She could feel the sweat on his palms that he’d tried so desperately to be rid of, clammy on her face, but she focused instead on the feel of his lips, on the gentle probing of his tongue, mingling with hers. Her hands had been resting absently on his chest, but she snaked them up now, wrapping them around his neck. She wanted to be closer, needed to be. Her heartbeat was erratic, and she wanted to feel his thrumming in desperate time with hers, right up against her.

His hands moved too, threading through her hair, tugging gently so he could tip her back for better access. She sighed with contentment, smiling against him and reaching her hands under his collar to scratch his neck. He groaned as she raked her nails down, tugging harder on her hair. She’d apparently unleashed something, because he redoubled his efforts, flipping them around so he could push her to the bed. They crashed down together, and before Claire could blink, Jamie was lying perpendicular to the headboard, legs dangling off the bed, and she was hovering over him, kissing him senseless.

Something that had been simmering in her all night began rising, steaming. If she was sweaty before, she was melting now. She ran her hands all over his chest, his arms; he peppered kisses all over her neck and collarbones and even the swell of her breasts. His hands alternated between running up and down her back and squeezing her arse over her dress. She needed more. Nerves were gone, and she was ready to throw a leg over him and straddle him now. Hell, if she finished fully clothed she could still be ready for more. She moaned loudly as Jamie bit her bottom lip, sinking her nails into his neck. She was about to throw her leg over him, but then he abruptly sat up, digging his own nails into her shoulders and clawing down her arms, no doubt leaving already fading streaks of red. Claire began kissing his neck, biting, nibbling, licking, then —

“What were ye gonna say?”

She barely registered that he’d even talked. She picked up her head and looked at him blearily, her chest heaving.

“What…?”

“At dinner…when ye said, ‘I’ll yell ye later’…”

“Oh.” It came flooding back, the way he’d looked when she mentioned all the mothers lusting after him, what that look did to her.

She smiled widely at him, at first genuine and sweet, and then it morphed into something wickeder. No, she would not straddle him just yet.

She slowly, torturously slowly, ran her tongue along his bottom lip, and then nipped at it with her teeth. “You don’t even know…” She trailed her fingers down his neck, stopping at the buttons of his shirt to start undoing them. “How God damn,” another button, “bloody,” another button, “beautiful you are.” She pushed the fabric of his shirt apart, four buttons open now, and kissed his sternum. “How…” another button, another kiss, “fucking…” another button, another kiss, “hot you are, Jamie.”

His shirt was entirely undone now, and she yanked it out of his pants and over his shoulders. She moaned in appreciation of his body, beautiful indeed, sculpted from fine marble. She ran her hands down his chest, his stomach, then back up.

“God, Jamie…” She was completely breathless, and he was barely even touching her. “The first time I saw these muscles, under that wet t-shirt…I was ready to bloody have you on that counter.”

He growled then, finally moving, capturing her lips with his with an aggression she didn’t know he was capable of. She whimpered in surprised appreciation, running her hands back up his perfect torso to thread her arms around his neck as his snaked around her waist.

“Christ, Sassenach,” Jamie groaned, kissing her neck fiercely. “I wanted ye…I wanted ye so badly that day I could scarcely breathe…”

She laughed, a throaty, wanton sound. “I know you did…” She ran a hand down the planes of his torso again and then walked her fingers down, down, down…until Jamie cried out, jerking into her hand. “I could feel it.” She palmed him gently over his pants, and Jamie sounded like he was choking on something. Claire chuckled darkly and continued kissing him sloppily as she rubbed him, becoming less and less gentle.

“What did you do?” she panted, nibbling his earlobe. “That day? What did you do with…this?” She gave a particularly hard squeeze, and he cried out again against her neck, latching his teeth there, and she whimpered.

“I…” She felt him swallow, hard. “I tried not to, Sassenach, I didna…” He hissed; she did not stop touching him, “want to dishonor ye.”

“Tell me, Jamie,” she breathed. “And I’ll tell you what I did.”

He let out a soft moan at that, a beautiful, endlessly endearing sound. “Oh, Christ…” His voice was gravelly in a way that made Claire’s stomach turn to liquid. “I…I took myself in my hand, and I…” Claire was unable to suppress a moan at the thought of her sweet, shy lad touching himself for her. “I imagined this. Only it’s…” He kissed her deeply, lapping at her mouth with his tongue like he was desperately hungry. “It’s better than I could ever imagine.”

And we’re just getting started, my lad.

Claire kissed him back, finally letting her hand leave him so she could grasp both of his shoulders. “I…” she panted. “God, I touched myself too, Jamie.” She pushed his shoulders down. “I couldn’t help it.” She straddled him, and he hissed at the contact, gripping her hips. God, he felt huge under her like this, and it sent a shudder through her entire body at the thought of taking him inside her.

“Then I…” She braced herself on his shoulders and began rocking her hips, just as she’d done that night. “I did this, on a…a pillow.” She laughed through the words, even as she ground down harder on him. “And I imagined this.”

His grip on her hips tightened, and his hands moved under her dress, under her underwear to grab the flesh of her arse. She groaned as he dug his fingers into that flesh, continuing to seek her pleasure with her thrusts.

Not enough. More. More.

Claire stilled her hips and removed her hands from his shoulders so she could find the edge of her dress. Jamie’s grip on her arse became impossibly tighter; his whole body seemed to freeze up and stiffen beneath her. She smirked, feeling herself flush at the thought of letting him see her. And then the dress was off and discarded, leaving her in the lacy white matching set she’d worn just for the occasion. He raked his eyes over her frantically, as if he didn’t know where to look, where to settle his gaze. His eyes were practically bugging out of his head, and he looked like he might lose consciousness. Claire flipped her hair to one side and leaned down to kiss him, gently gripping both sides of his face. She did not move her hips again, just kissed him gently, sweetly.

It’s okay. Take your time.

After a few lingering, deep kisses, Jamie finally moved his hands away from her arse and up the length of her back, bracing her against him. He flipped her onto her back and began peppering kisses on her neck, the crook of her shoulder, her jawline, all while sculpting his fingertips over the length of her collarbones. Claire kept her fingers threaded through his curls, tugging gently on occasion. He latched onto that spot, just above her collarbone where her neck began, and Claire cried out, the pooling heat within her rising to a boiling point. His hand snaked down the length of her torso, sliding over her bra, her waist, then resting on the small of her back. She felt his lips curl into a smile against her skin, and he softly kissed the spot he'd just assaulted, before trailing his tongue up the length of her neck and her jawline before finally coming home to her mouth.

She moaned greedily into his mouth, sucking hard on his tongue, combining it with hers. She moved her hands to the sides of his face, as if to pull him impossibly closer. He kissed her urgently, and she could feel the hard proof of his arousal on her thigh, but his hands remained still. Picking up on his shyness, Claire removed a hand from his face and took hold of the hand that was still stationary on the small of her back. He either didn't notice or didn't care, far too occupied with devouring her lips and tongue, tasting her teeth. She brought his hand back up the length of her torso, stopping on the left cup of her bra. She flattened his hand and firmly pressed his palm into the soft flesh.

He stopped kissing her then, and she felt him grow even harder, if that were even possible. He looked into her eyes, the bright blue almost gone, darkened with desire. His lips were hanging open in aroused shock, and the sight of them, swollen and red from her own assault made her squirm.

She gave him a wicked grin and pressed his hand harder onto her breast, groaning through her teeth, her jaw jutting forward. Despite how obvious it was that this was enjoyable for her, and him for that matter, Jamie still hesitated to squeeze on his own, floundering when her hand left his.

"Jamie..." She somehow found enough breath to pant out his name. "Touch me, Jamie, please."

Jamie gulped, and she watched as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down, having to bite her lip to stifle the moan it elicited from her. God, everything he did made her simply melt.

He repositioned himself slightly so that he could bring a second hand, trembling like mad, to her other, neglected breast. He took them in his hands with bated breath, and the sight of him, in awe of her like this was nearly enough to make her come without any stimulation at all. He ran his thumbs back and forth over the lacy material of her bra, and she groaned at the contact to her nipples, even through the fabric.

Still, he was hesitant.

"Don't be gentle," she blurted out, unable to stop herself. "Touch me, Jamie. Please."

Something finally seemed to click; something unleashed from within him. His hands roughly squeezed her breasts, and Claire arched her back as a strangled cry ripped through her.

"Yes, Jamie..." He reached one of his hands under the cup, and she gasped at the flesh-on-flesh contact. "Yes..."

Like a man possessed, he tugged at the straps of her bra, and without even thinking twice, she slipped her arms out of the straps as he reached underneath her to unhook it. Claire couldn't help but giggle; his fingers were practically vibrating with how fiercely he trembled; it took him far longer than it should have for him to unhook the bloody thing.

When he finally succeeded, and her breasts were free, she sighed with contentment. He unceremoniously discarded it behind him and returned to his former position, fueled even further by the full sight of them now. She swore she heard him growl as he took hold of her breasts again, and Claire moaned at the sensation. He kneaded roughly, pushing them together and apart, trapping her nipples between his fingers. He dipped his head to kiss her sternum, and Claire blushed, knowing full well there was a pool of sweat gathered there. He didn't seem to mind, however, as his lips and tongue devoured her there, and then trailed kisses up the mound of her breast.

Claire gasped raggedly as his lips latched onto the nipple, kissing it over and over before firmly sucking and circling his tongue around it rapidly, all while still kneading the other breast. Claire was becoming feral: her hands were pushing into his head with a force that was surely uncomfortable for him, her heavy panting had quickly morphed into repeated, loud keening noises, and she was bucking her hips into thin air. She briefly wondered if it was possible to come just from this, with her lower extremities completely untouched. She certainly felt like it was possible.

Evidently, she'd never get to find out.

He switched his mouth to her other breast and trailed his hand, flat, down the expanse of her stomach, and Claire groaned in anticipation of the oncoming sensation. He slid his hand over her underwear and palmed her, his hand completely covering the entire surface area. Claire moaned loudly; his hand was so warm and large, the heat pressing into her almost made her come undone on its own. Noticing how enthusiastically she responded to this, Jamie kept his hand flat and large as he could on her, kneading and squeezing almost like he had done to her breasts, only gentler. She rolled her hips, keening incessantly as he carried on. After a while, he slowed his hand to a stop and kept his fingers still, then began grinding the heel of his hand into her, pressing directly into that bundle of nerves that had so been craving his touch.

She loudly cried out at the sensation, but he only let it last briefly. He had other plans. All the while, his mouth had not left her breast, kissing the skin, the nipple, licking, sucking. Now, his mouth hovered over hers as his fingers tantalizingly teased the top of her underwear. He inched them underneath, slowly, so fucking slowly.

"Please, Jamie," she cried out, not even having the mental capacity to consider how wanton she sounded.

He chuckled against her mouth, kissing her hard again. She groaned into him as his fingers teased her entrance to gather her natural lubricant, and he chuckled again, his chest rumbling.

He's laughing at how you're dripping wet already, you sex-fiend.

Not wasting any more time, he began rubbing, up and down, side to side, circling…

“Jamie…Jamie…fuck…”

Claire was completely lost.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, her back completely arched, her fingers threaded in his hair again. He knew exactly when he spent too long in a certain spot, and he moved, he knew exactly when he needed to slow down, when he needed to speed up. He was watching her face intently, listening to her body, and of course to those noises.

Claire had no concept of how loud she was being now; she couldn't even hear herself anymore. The only thing she could hear was his panting in her ear, the purring in his throat, the chuckling growls in his chest. The world narrowed down to his fingers, taking up a pace with a quickness she had never felt before. Every breath she inhaled was a ragged gasp, every breath she released was a tortured moan.

Jamie latched teeth onto her nipple, and she was undone.

She came with a ferocity she hadn’t thought possible, her mouth hanging open, as screams, practically sobs, erupted from her.

His fingers slowed, gently stroking her down from her high. She was seeing stars as he kissed her lips again, and she kissed him back with a fervor she didn’t even know she could muster after the numbing orgasm he’d just given her. She kissed him until she was sure she would faint, only pulling away to ensure she didn’t drop dead for lack of air. She panted heavily, her walls still clenching inside her, her thighs still twitching. His hand left her, gently stroking up and down her ribcage. He was grinning down at her like a fool, clearly quite pleased with himself.

“Where the bloody hell did you learn how to do that?” Claire panted, her eyes hardly able to focus her vision.

He smirked at her, cocking an eyebrow. “I said I was a virgin, Sassenach.” He chuckled lightly and kissed her again. “No’ a monk.”

Claire shook her head in disbelief, completely dumbfounded. Would he ever cease to amaze her?

“Was it really all that good?”

She could tell that he was trying to play it off as a joke, attempting sarcasm, playing up his cockiness. But she could see right through it, could tell that he needed the reassurance from her verbally.

To answer him, Claire firmly took hold of both sides of his face and kissed him hard. When she pulled away she looked into his eyes, whispering: “Unbelievable.”

His grin widened again, and he kissed her back, threading his fingers through her hair. They pulled apart again and settled in to lay down, facing each other, foreheads pressed together.

“Ye’re beautiful when ye fall apart, Claire,” he whispered reverently, pushing a stray curl out of her sweaty face. 

She felt her face get hot, but not from arousal this time. “Really…? I found myself resembling nothing short of a wanton slut.”

She’d meant it as a joke, and looked at him as such, smiling sheepishly. But his eyes had darkened again, and his face was almost gravely serious.

“No, Sassenach,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Ye’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Watching ye in the throes of yer passion is…is beyond description, Claire. I dinna want to ever forget it.”

Claire felt tears stinging her eyes, and she felt ridiculous. Am I really about to cry because my boyfriend thinks I’m pretty when I come…?

But it wasn’t as simple as that. Not really.

The truth of his words, the depth of their meaning sank in, and Claire felt her heart being pulled to his. She was unable to stop herself from kissing him again, overcome with tenderness. The kiss gradually deepened, and it wasn’t long before Claire found herself burning, wanting again. She moved her hands down the expanse of his bare chest as he continued kissing her, stopping at his hips, where his pants began. She tugged on his belt until she got it undone, and Jamie smirked against her lips as she pulled it through the belt loops, discarding it over her shoulder.

“You…” she breathed out between kisses. “Are wearing…” She undid his fly. “Far too much clothing.”

He growled in response, deepening the kiss even as he tugged on his slacks, breaking away only to get them over his knees and heels, finally kicking them onto the floor. He laid back down beside her again, thrusting his tongue back into her mouth with an urgency that made her moan. His hardness was pressing firmly into her as they continued their exploration of each other’s mouths, and Claire found herself unable to resist rocking her hips against him. He mirrored her actions, grinding against her thigh. Claire draped her leg over his hips to increase her own friction, and slid her other thigh between both of his to increase friction for him, pressing the top of her thigh into his erection.

He let out a shuddering groan, a sound that sent heat shooting to her center. They began madly rocking together, their lips never leaving one another’s. Claire groaned and grunted as she fought to maintain a steady rhythm that stimulated her just right on him, the ever-present reminder of his arousal on her thigh driving her mad. Jamie was panting and groaning, his thrusts becoming frantic.

“Claire…” Jamie choked out, finally releasing her mouth. “I canna…I’m gonnae…”

“No.” Claire immediately stopped rocking. “Not like this.”

Every vein in his face was popping out, and he was dripping with sweat. Claire unthreaded herself from him and tugged on his briefs, and he obliged, sitting up and sliding them all the way off. Claire gasped raggedly as he was unsheathed. She’d guessed the relative size of him through clothing far earlier in their friendship than she’d have liked to admit, but to fully see it was another matter entirely.

She had to have him. Now.

She sat up, reached out and grabbed him, and he cried out. She squeezed and stroked oh-so-gently, not wanting to accidentally set him off this way, but wanting very badly to feel him in her hands first. He let his head fall backward, his mouth stuck open, his eyes looking up to the ceiling.

“Christ, Sassenach…” he hissed.

Claire chuckled softly, enjoying her turn to have power over him. “Are you ready, Jamie?

Ready for me to take your virginity?

The thought sent another jet of heat to her center, and she felt herself growing impossibly wet.

“Are you?” he asked.

She smirked and made a show of removing her underwear, exposing that arse that she knew he adored, wiggling them down torturously slowly. She could feel her own wetness trailing down her thigh without the barrier to stop it from doing so. When they were finally discarded, she rose up on her knees and took his hand in hers, bringing it between her legs. They both gasped, she from the sensation, and he from the arousal of feeling how ready she really was.

Claire held his hand there, letting him soak in the moment. She looked him directly in the eye. “What do you think?” she said breathily.

He growled again and kissed her hungrily, both of them kneeling in the center of the bed.

Yes, they were both quite ready.

They kissed and kissed and kissed, and Claire didn’t even notice that Jamie was gradually, gently, pushing her back. She sat back and untucked her legs from beneath her, spreading them, until she was laying on the pillows, Jamie braced above her. Jamie stared into her face, eyes wide, mouth agape. Claire had to stifle the urge to laugh. But God, was he beautiful.

“I…” he stammered. “I’m sorry if I…”

Claire silenced him with a kiss, gripping both sides of his face. “It’s alright.” She kissed him again, dragging her teeth along his bottom lip until it popped out. “Do what you must.”

Jamie let out a shuddering groan that had Claire arching her back, raising her hips for him. He took hold of himself, lining himself up. Claire could feel him, grazing every inch of sensitive flesh that he’d already given his attentions to, and then he was there, right against her.

Do it, Jamie. God, do it!

She wanted to scream.

Instead, she took in the question in his eyes, the bob of his Adam’s apple, still holding his face, and she nodded.

Then she did scream, or something akin to it at least. It was loud, whatever it was.

Her first thought was that she’d never been so completely filled by any other man she’d slept with. Her second thought was that that was a horrible thought to have. Her third thought was that she didn’t give a fuck.

He wasn’t moving; he was just staring at her with his hands braced on either side of her head. Claire was still catching her breath from his initial thrust, and she realized embarrassingly that she was white-knuckling the poor lad’s face. She eased her grip and brought his face down to hers, kissing him, swirling her tongue with his. She rose her hips up, thrusting against him herself, then he took the hint, beginning to move. Claire keened against his lips as he stirred inside her, and then she cried out again when he pulled back and slammed back in. Jamie made his own noise, choked and strangled. God, he was so fucking endearing, even as he hammered inside her.

He gave another thrust, and then he set a rhythm. Claire threaded an arm around his neck, pressing his head into the crook of her neck. He clearly didn’t have the brain capacity to do anything there but breathe, but that was enough. His panting, hot breath on her skin and his noises directly in her ear were a lovely sensation. With her other hand, she reached down to take purchase on his arse, smooth and firm. She held onto it as if for dear life, as if she could push him even deeper into her if she tried.

After not long at all, he began to speed up, and Claire knew he wouldn’t last much longer. She also knew she was going to die if she didn’t finish with him inside her. So she removed her hand from his arse and brought it between them, rubbing herself relentlessly. Eventually, she thought to herself, she’d bring his hand there while they fucked. For now, the lad could barely keep himself from crushing her. She didn’t blame him.

A new surge of pleasure coursed through her, an electric height only achieved by combining both pleasure points on her body, heightened further still when one was far larger than a few fingers. Claire’s moaning was unrestrained now; every thrust elicited yet another high-pitched cry. She tightened her arm around his neck, threading her fingers in his thick red curls. He began moaning against her skin with every breath, and Claire increased the pace of her fingers.

So close.

And then Jamie yelled against her, biting down on her shoulder. His body went rigid, freezing inside her. She felt the familiar warm rush of his seed filling her, and she kept rubbing herself.

“Jamie!”

A plea, a demand…it was anyone’s guess.

Whether he knew what she meant or not, he gave one final thrust, and it was enough. She screamed again, louder than she had all night, clenching tightly around him, yanking her hand away from herself out of pure overstimulation and then braced her hand on his arse again, squeezing tightly.

He remained still as she continued to grasp him tightly, pulse around him, spasm her hips erratically, shivering. He’d collapsed onto his elbows, and sweat dripped from his hair onto her forehead, disappearing into her own hair. They were both gasping for air, panting desperately against each other’s skin. Claire could taste her own sweat on her upper lip, could see and feel the sheen of sweat all over his body as well as hers. For a moment they stayed like that, panting and gasping, and then Jamie collapsed to the right, surely unable to hold himself up anymore. He slid out of her, collapsing onto his back, still breathing heavily.

Claire stared at the ceiling for a moment, feeling far too much like jell-o to be able to move, but before long, she missed his warmth above her, around her. She flopped over onto her stomach, landing bodily on his chest. The sound it made was rather horrid, and Claire snorted. Jamie had no reaction, and Claire propped her head on her hands atop his chest. She found him with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep.

“Don’t die on me now,” she said.

Jamie groaned unintelligibly, his eyes still closed.

“Well,” Claire said haughtily, folding her arms over his chest and laying her head on them. “At least you didn’t die a virgin.”

A loud slap filled the air, followed by a sharp sting, simultaneous with a loud shriek. Claire jolted, sitting up.

“You little bastard!”

Jamie was literally howling with laughter.

“I’m sorry lass!” he wheezed. “I didna realize it would be so loud!”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” she cried, swatting at his arm. Both of them had done this while they were fully clothed, teasing. But evidently, Jamie had never smacked a naked arse before. Which would make sense.

She erupted into giggles right with him, collapsing onto his chest again, where he readily wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head.

“Oh, Christ…” He was still laughing, rubbing her back.

“That’s what you get for almost falling asleep on me!” Claire said, still sputtering herself.

They calmed themselves down, still teasing and shuddering with laughter, Jamie rocking her in his arms unintentionally. They quieted, and a sense of contentment filled the air.

“Ye…ye liked it, then?”

Claire was unable to stifle another laugh. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny…” She giggled again, then kissed his sternum. “I did. I did like it, Jamie. A lot.”

She could feel as well as hear his sigh of relief, his chest deflating, taking her with it. He kissed her head again. “So did I, Sassenach.”

She picked her head up, resting her chin on her hands again. “Was it like you thought it would be?”

Jamie grinned crookedly, and Claire was shocked by her desire to kiss every inch of that mouth, so soon after. “Better.”

She was unable to stop herself then, kissing him soundly. He kissed back with equal fervor until they were both breathless. Then he pulled away, and Claire looked at him questioningly.

“Would ye…” He gulped, blinking. “Maybe…would ye want to do it again?”

Claire cocked a brow at him, smiling wickedly and maintaining eye contact as her hand traveled further down until she found him, already hard.

“Hm,” she hummed, impressed. “Ready already.”

Before he could push her into the pillows again, she threw a leg over his hips to straddle him. She leaned down to kiss him, and he raked his nails down her back, then kneaded her arse roughly. She could feel a hot rush, and then he chuckled darkly.

“So are you.”

Proving him right, she lowered herself onto him with effortless ease, and Jamie’s face looked like he might explode in this new position. She sighed with ecstasy, biting her lip. God, he felt good.

“For the record,” Claire began before she could stop herself. “I didn’t…hate it.”

His brow furrowed, gulping, trying to maintain focus while he was inside her. “What…?”

She took one of his hands, previously kneading her breasts, and brought it down to her arse. Hard. Loud.

Jamie’s eyes blew impossibly wide, his mouth falling open. Claire almost regretted it, almost felt like a slut bringing a kink, even a mild one, into the equation on the first night. But then his eyes darkened, and he smacked the other side of her arse with his free hand, and she let out a gasp that ended with a groan. Claire bit her lip, smiling wickedly down at him.

“Fast learner.”

[et-lesailes]

release

pairing: andy barber x reader

word count: 2978

summary: for obvious reasons, andy is incredibly stressed. you never thought you, his young neighbor, would be the one he wants to take it all out on.

themes: age gap, smut

taglist: @evanstush, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @whysparker, @sebastian-i-stan, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch​, @cptn-sgrogers​, @heyyouwiththeassbutt​, @bangtan-serendipity​, @troublermalik​, @beardburnsupersoldiers​, @hannie-stark, @bookish-shristi​, @kind-sober-fullydressed​, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16​, @straightforwardly​,  @denisemarieangelina​,  @frencchfries​, @xlanawriter​, @littlemoistcarrot​, @pottxrwolff​, @arianatheangelworld​, @ifuseekamyevans​, @southerngracela​, @nsfwsebbie​, @rororo06​, @savemesteeb​, @raveviolet​, @inactivewhore​, @hurricanerinwrites​

notes: HELLO IT’S ME YOUR VILLAGE IDIOT WRITING ABOUT A CHARACTER I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT! graphic creds go to the amazing @allthefandomstogether​ !!!! :)

His scowl is tense, his blue eyes stormy, and his jawline clenched. He’s wearing a dark tee and black jeans, his biceps practically bulging underneath the short sleeves. He’s generally sharp and refined as it is, but ever since his 14 year old son was arrested for murder, his demeanor, understandably, has become much more harsh. 

He moves his head and you quickly cast your eyes back down onto the dining table, placing your hands together. “Andy,” your father reaches over to pat his shoulder, looking just as stressed. “We’re going to do whatever we can to help you. Jacob will get out of there. Okay?” Andy doesn’t even look at him- instead, he’s looking towards the window with the troubled expression that’s become his norm, as if Jacob will come strolling up the path. As if his wife will pull up in the driveway again even though everyone knows she’s most likely staying at her sister’s for quite some time. The strain has been too much for her, and Andy has changed entirely. These days, he seems almost… dangerous. You can see it in his eyes- he’s getting desperate. He’ll do anything to get his son in the clear, whether he committed the crime or not. 

“Do you want more?” you offer to break the awkward silence, lifting up the container of pasta you and your father had brought over to his house. Andy looks to you, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “No. Thank you though, Y/N. You made it, didn't you? It tasted good.” You give him a smile, happy to hear the compliment. Anything you can do to make your neighbor’s mood better. You’ve known Andy and his family since you were a teenager, and now as a 23 year old, you want to return all the support and thoughtfulness he’s given you. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it.” You stand up, cocking your head. “If you’re all done then, how about I help clean up?”

Your father nods with a smile. “That’s a good idea, sweetheart.” He glances down at his watch and sighs. “I’ve got to meet with my boss at the office in twenty minutes, I should probably head out now. You stay and help Andy, alright?” You nod and he leans down to kiss your cheek. “Thanks, Y/N. I’ll see you back home later.” He gives Andy a somewhat sad smile, a sigh escaping his lips. “Please, buddy. Hang in there. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.” Andy barely nods, giving the man a brief thanks and a hug goodbye.

He leaves the house and you barely bite your lip, but start bringing empty dishes to the sink to rinse them off. “Do you have enough food?” you ask, turning your head over your shoulder to look at him. “I have some free time this weekend, I’d be happy to make you some more…”

He’s quiet for a few moments before he steps closer to you. “I don’t need food, Y/N.” He mutters, running his fingers through his brown hair, his features filled with nothing but tension. “I don’t need food, I don’t need sympathy-- you know, I don’t even need my wife.” You’re about to wash the dishes but you sense a whole new level of gravity to this conversation, and so you slowly turn around to face him. “I… Are you two getting divorced, then? I thought you were just taking some time apart… you know, temporarily.” Andy and Laurie had always seemed like such an amazing couple to you, especially considering your own parents were divorced. Their love for Jacob was immense, and they always looked so happy to you as a whole. You supposed experiencing such a traumatic incident could change that.

“I don’t want to be with her anymore.” He speaks bluntly, coming to stand next to you and leaning against the counter, blue hues looking back towards the window. “She doesn’t get me the way I thought she did.” You look up at him, feeling strangely intimidated- something you had never felt around him before. “Andy,” you speak quietly, “do you think maybe that’s because… you’ve changed?” 

There’s a silence for a few seconds, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far. He’s still looking to the window, but he looks as though he’s pondering over this thought. “I’m sorry.” You finally say, clearing your throat and turning to the sink. “I shouldn’t have said that, I know this is a hard time for you. For all of us. Let me finish up he-”

“No.” Before you know it, his hands are on your waist, spinning you back around so that you’re facing him, his own body now completely turned towards you. “Tell me, Y/N. Do you think I’ve changed?” His voice is lower, his eyes locked onto yours, his grip securing your hips tightly. You widen your eyes slightly, thrown off to say the least. You’d be lying if you said you’d never had the silly little daydream of being this close to Andy Barber, let alone being in his arms. Even as a 16 year old, you had somewhat of a puppy crush on the older man, finding his chiseled features, perfectly groomed facial hair, and built stature incredibly handsome. Still, you had never felt anything more for him- you couldn’t even allow yourself to. He’s your neighbor, one of your father’s close friends-- hell, he’s a father himself, of a boy you used to babysit.

But even throughout the years of slightly crushing on him, a scenario like this had never quite exactly popped into your head.

“Maybe a little,” you whisper, staring up into his eyes somewhat nervously. You practically don’t recognize the man you’re looking at. However, you aren’t scared of him. You’re scared of what he must be feeling, of everything he’s going through. He’s not dangerous. He’s helpless, he’s afraid, he’s in despair. “But I don’t blame you for changing. I think it’s just because of everything you’re dealing with.” You explain, slowly placing your hands over his. “Andy, maybe you should… let go…”

“Do you know what I need, Y/N?” he asks suddenly, still holding you tight, and you remember your conversation just a few moments ago. Not food, not sympathy, and not even his wife. “What?” you ask softly, your heart pounding. He leans down and you nearly shiver; his lips are mere inches away from yours, his breath warm and almost taunting. “I need a fucking release.” He mutters through slightly clenched teeth, and you can see the vein in his neck slightly bulging. He’s angry. He’s sunk. He’s in need.

“Okay.” You find yourself breathing out, and that’s all he needs. A husky growl escapes from deep within his throat as he crashes his lips against yours, hands pulling your body even closer until it’s pressed up against his. It isn’t long before he’s simply scooping you up into his arms, lips still connected in a heated kiss as he brings you to the living room, though you quickly make a whimper of protest before he can toss you onto the couch. “W-wait,” you practically gasp as you pull back, already breathless, “not here, the… the window…” Your cheeks are bright red as you glance towards the large living room window, the thought of your father or even any neighbor seeing the two of you making you beyond uncomfortable. You already can’t believe you’re doing this, but you have to admit, his kiss in itself is more than convincing. You can’t help but want more.

He seems like he wants to chuckle, and you know the old Andy would have shown at least some form of amusement. This one, however, seems to be running on some type of agenda, and so he simply nods with a somewhat impassive face. “As you wish.” He murmurs, easily carrying you up the stairs and to the bedroom. You feel guilty once again knowing that he once shared this room with Laurie, but when he practically throws you upon the mattress and crawls over you to kiss you again with even more intensity than before, this guilt goes flying out the window. For now, anyways. You kiss him back just as fiercely, moving your hands to run your fingers through his beard and his soft, soft hair, back arched desperate for the feeling of his hips against yours.

“Fuck,” he mumbles shortly as he moves his open mouth down to your neck, biting and sucking roughly. “A-Andy!” you let out a high pitched hiss, gripping his hair, “N-not too rough, don’t… don’t leave any marks…” He nips at your shoulder in response, moving one of his hands down to rub against your clothed entrance. “How many boys have you slept with before, Y/N?” he murmurs huskily into your skin, teeth still teasing your sensitive flesh. You can’t help but moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you enjoy the pressure of his fingers in your lower region. “Only… only one…” you mumble softly, somewhat embarrassed- you’ve got to be far more inexperienced compared to him. “And how old was he? Your age?” he asks, finally pulling back to look down at you with a look so intense, you don’t even realize he’s pushing down your pants. “A year older- o-oh!!” you cut off your own answer with a moan when you feel his digits pressing up against your now damp panties, rolling your hips unable to help yourself. “You’re already wet for me.” He notes, kneading at the wet spot roughly with his knuckle making you whimper. “Naughty girl. Is fucking a man nearly twice your age a fantasy of yours?” Your cheeks turn bright red as you stare up at him somewhat flustered, having no idea how to answer this. He raises a brow, hooking two fingers in your panties and tugging them down, his thumb now moving to rub your clit. “I asked you a question.”

“Mm…!” you moan, your breaths becoming heavier. “N-not just any man…” 

He smirks, and you’re expecting him to pry the rest of the answer out of you, but it seems he’s satisfied enough. You can also sense he’s not all that interested in talking at the moment, anyways. He pushes one finger inside you and your whimpers become more high pitched, your head tilting back. “Oh… oh, Andy,” you moan, and he clucks his tongue, pumping harder. “You’re fucking tight. I’m going to need to stretch you out a bit if you’re going to fit me.” 

You gaze at him with slightly wide eyes, your lips parted and your cheeks flushed. “Wh-what do you…” you start to ask, but instead let out a gasp when he pushes another finger inside, your teeth tugging at your lip hard. “Mmn…!” He pumps both inside you at a steady pace, watching you with dark eyes. “You can take it. C’mon, Y/N.” You slowly begin moving your hips in sync with his movements, whines becoming moans of pleasure, head rolling back all over the pillow. 

A third finger slides in, and your back practically lifts off the mattress. “It’s… it’s too much…!” you whimper through shut eyes, though at the same time, you don’t want him to stop. He knows just how to maneuver his fingers, and it’s now clear that you’ve been missing out by not hooking up with older men. “How about now?” he murmurs deeply, slightly crooking his fingers and moving them expertly in rhythmic motions, finding your sweet spot as if he knew exactly how the entire time. “A-ah… fuck, right there!” you find yourself cursing, and at this, he chuckles lowly, continuing to pump in the same spot. “There you go. Come for me, Y/N, go ahead.” He practically coos, his tone oddly encouraging yet dark at the same time-- nonetheless, you release with a loud moan, your chest heaving underneath your light sweater, your skin hot and crimson. 

“Good girl.” He does not waste any time as he pulls back, and therefore you have none to get yourself together. Withdrawing his fingers, he briefly sucks on them before nodding towards you. “Take that shirt off or you’re going to overheat. I want to see all of you.” He’s already removing his own shirt, hastily reaching down to unzip his pants and remove his briefs as well. You blush but sit up, trying to control your breaths as you lift your shirt off over your head, thankful you didn’t embarrass yourself by somehow getting stuck in it. All he has to do is gaze towards your bra and arch an eyebrow expectantly; you instantly reach behind to unhook it, biting on your lip. However, when your eyes drift down to his length, they immediately widen. He’s long, and thick.

You realize what he meant before.

“Lie back down.” He commands, and you obey, though you’re still nervous. “I… just… be careful…” you somewhat pathetically manage, and he looks down at you for a few moments before barely smirking. “You don’t think I don’t know what I’m doing?” He reaches over to the nightstand, taking a condom out of the drawer and putting it on. You still can’t help but stare. There’s no way you’re coming out of this without feeling sore and aching. And yet you still feel undeniably aroused, your heart practically pounding out of your chest from desire and need. He pumps himself as he guides his shaft towards your entrance, his breath hitching as he presses up against you. “Fuck, this is going to feel so damn good.” He mumbles, pushing his hips forward and thrusting inside you with a low groan. You inhale sharply, reaching up to grip his shoulders, head tilting back once again. “Oh… mm… Andy…”

“God my name sounds good coming out of your mouth.” He scoffs, bucking his hips harder as he pushes more of his length inside you. “Fuck. You like that, Y/N? You like the way I stretch you out like this?” You can only nod weakly, his dominating thrusts soon overpowering every inch of you, rocking your body back and forth as if you’re nothing but a little doll underneath him. He was not kidding about needing a release. Every rough movement, every clench of his jaw, every grunt and groan that slips out of his throat-- he’s had pent up frustration for a long time now, and it’s evident he’s going to let it all out on you. 

He reaches out to hold the bedpost with one hand to support himself, other hand placed on the mattress by your shoulder only to swing his hips even faster, the bed now beginning to creak. “Fuck. You’re so fucking tight.” He hisses in a pleasured rasp, his breaths heavy and uneven as his knuckles begin to whiten from his tight grip. He keeps thrusting into you hard, eyes staring down at your body below him-- until he suddenly changes it up, adjusting himself so he’s on his knees before grabbing your legs and pushing them back by your head. “Flexible little thing.” He breathes out, bucking his hips roughly as he groans louder. You let out a string of intangible moans and mewls, eyes rolling back as he keeps fucking you, practically jackhammering into you at this point. “Andy! Andy, I-I’m close!” you’re practically screaming, even holding your own legs for him and digging your fingers into your own flesh as a form of release. He smirks breathlessly, shaking the sweat out of his hair as he keeps going. “Go on then,” he grunts, “come for me again.”

You release, panting heavily as you stare up at the ceiling, and he comes soon after with a low groan of satisfaction. You watch as he slowly pulls out, moving back to stand beside the bed, carefully disposing of the condom in the bin before running his fingers through his slightly graying beard. “Thank you.” He rolls his neck to either side then looks at you, and you can practically see at least some of the stress having faded away in his features. “I needed that.” You sit up, suddenly reaching out to take his arm, gently pulling him down to sit next to you. He blinks, turning his head to look at you with simultaneous confusion and curiosity. You hold his hand on your lap, rubbing his knuckles slowly. “This isn’t going to fix anything, Andy, and you know that.” You mumble softly, “But I promise. Everything will be alright. He… he’s going to be okay. And so are you.”

He looks at you for a few seconds and you’re a little nervous he’s simply going to shut you down, but he nods. “Thank you.” His words actually seem genuine, and instead of displaying frustration and hostility, he only seems… worried. Distressed. Like a true father, one with compassion, empathy, and who only wants the very best for his beloved child. 

You gently lie him down in the bed, rubbing his chest. “Get some sleep, Andy. Please.” You whisper, and he stares at you before exhaling deeply and tiredly, nodding his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

You can’t help yourself when you lean over and kiss his forehead. “I’ll… come check in on you tomorrow. Goodnight.” You pick up your clothes and leave the room, closing the door behind you. Quickly getting dressed on the landing of the stairwell, you walk downstairs and peer out the window facing your house, relieved to see your father’s car isn’t in the driveway yet. You turn off all the lights before exiting out the front door, steps light as you walk through the grass separating your driveways, entering your own home- your heart still racing. You can’t believe what you’ve done.

Furthermore, you can’t believe that you want to do it again.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Whisky Secrets (sequel)

Here's something different. Before I ever thought about posting fanfic here, I used to write things inspired by fanfic I found by some of the incredible writers I found on tumblr. I've never posted any of them but I've really felt like writing something for Aleister Black/ Tommy End lately.

So I reached out to one of my original favourites on this site, @ghostofviperwrites and asked her if she'd mind if I published this sequel I wrote to her story Whisky Secrets. She gave me the ok (for which I thank her very much).

You absolutely have to read her piece first or this won't make any sense. It picks up literally at the point where hers leaves off and the entire premise is based on what she wrote. I think this goes in a very different direction than what she had in mind, though.

Since this is an old story, some of the characters are very different than they are now. It was set at around the time I wrote it. Based on events in the story, it's pretty clear when that was.

It's a bit dated but I hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Aleister Black x OFC (hints of Roman Reigns x OFC)

Word count: 7,031

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, language, incidental roughness that some might find stressful

You rested on the sofa for too long, knowing that you had to get to work, that you were already behind on an assignment that was due that afternoon. As much as you desperately wanted to cling to the scent and the feeling of him being there with you and the idea that he might someday want to be there with you for longer, you knew that you were only wasting time by indulging in a fantasy. Once again, you reminded yourself, he saw you as a friend, a landing pad after he was finished his adventures. And so you dragged yourself to the computer and tried to focus.

It was a fluff piece you’d been hired to write: places for new residents of Orlando to meet people. You’d accepted it because the pay was good and it had seemed easy. But what the hell did you know about meeting people? You’d barely met anyone and the only ones that you’d call friends were the ones you met when you’d done an in-depth profile on the WWE and their development territory NXT. Of those, only Aleister had remained close and even then, you couldn’t say that the two of you had ever properly opened up to each other. Nevertheless, you’d stayed in touch with a number of them, occasionally meeting for coffee or drinks. None of this was in any way useful when it came to recommending locations to connect with strangers.

You’d tried to start the article the day before but now when you opened the file, you discovered that you’d only come up with a half a dozen corny titles and one word of text:

When?

The word was too painfully appropriate.

When were you going to run out of luck and be unable to find further work as a journalist?

When were you going to admit that what kept you here, rather than moving to another state and pursuing more secure work, was the fact that you were in love with a man who was only interested in your capacity as a friend and caregiver?

When was your hopeless love going to break you beyond repair?

Annoyed with yourself, you deleted the word and tried to start again. You could meet people at the gym classes that were ubiquitous in this city. You could meet people at get-togethers for shared hobbies like hiking or pottery or basically anything. No one had to meet people by getting thrown into their orbit and being unable to extricate themselves.

About half an hour into your resentful hammering on the keyboard, you were startled by your doorbell. For one sweet instant, you imagined that it was Aleister dropping by to pass some time with you. Then you realized that he never came to you without an invitation unless it was dead drunk in the middle of the night. Even when you invited him, it was only every fourth or fifth time that you asked that he agreed to come over and watch a movie or go for a walk in the nearby park. There was no way it was him at your door at eleven o’clock in the morning.

In fact, the person at your door was Bayley, chipper and warm as always, returning the spare laptop you’d lent her a few weeks before.

“Thank you so much,” she beamed, thrusting the computer into your hands. “You are a lifesaver. I’d have lost my goddamn mind if I hadn’t had this while mine was in the shop.”

“It was nothing,” you insist, smiling at her unconstrained warmth even though you didn’t feel very positive about your life at that moment. “Do you want to come in for a minute?”

She nodded cheerily and stepped across the foyer. You never really knew how you fit in with the women of WWE, even though you’d spoken to many of them in depth. Bayley stood out because she was determined to be your friend despite your introvert’s reluctance. And, indeed, she was irresistible. Much like her in-ring character, she cast sunshine wherever she went and her glow was contagious, even in your darkest and lowest moments.

You motioned her into the kitchen, offering her a choice of lemonade, iced tea or water. Her eyes immediately fell on the empty whiskey bottle you’d left on the counter, her expression growing more serious as she focused on it.

“Getting started early?” she cajoled.

“A friend left that here,” you replied guiltily.

She narrowed her dark eyes as she looked at you. Sweet and optimistic as she was, Bayley was not naïve. She knew exactly what friend had left the bottle behind and she knew how you felt about him.

“I’ll have a glass of lemonade,” she said, the smile slowly returning to her face.

You joined her and the two of you jokingly touched glasses before drinking.

“So, a few of us are getting together tonight,” she said hesitantly. “I thought you might like to join us.”

Your first instinct was to ask if Aleister would be there, but you thought better of it. Instead, you responded, “Well, I have an article I need to finish.”

Of course, your article was due by the end of the afternoon, which meant that your evening was free regardless, but part of you wanted to be at home in case Aleister came staggering over again.

Bayley’s jaw set in a determined expression you’d only seen from her in the ring. “We’re having a party for Roman, to celebrate him going into remission.”

Well now you felt like a bit of a bitch for making excuses and didn’t know what to say.

“It won’t just be wrestlers there. Some other journalists are even coming. And I know that it would mean a lot to him if you were there.”

When you’d done your article on the WWE, you’d interviewed Roman Reigns and he’d been incredibly generous with his time. He’d even contacted you after your interviews to confirm that you had all the detail you needed. He was the face of the company and had done everything possible to make sure that the company had provided what you required. He’d clearly wanted to make sure they’d left a good impression and you couldn’t help but be impressed by his PR skills. Although you knew it wasn’t true that it “would mean a lot to him”, you were touched by the idea that he remembered you and might like you to be there to celebrate his great news. At the same time… you needed to be there for Aleister.

“Look,” Bayley insisted, “I’m going to text you the details for the bar where we’ll be. It’s not a big deal, just a bunch of us getting together to be happy for our friend.”

There was no way that you could refuse that, so you shyly thanked her as she gulped the rest of her lemonade and made for the door.

“I’m serious,” she said as she departed. “You work so damn hard you deserve a night off. Finish what you’re doing and come have fun with us.”

As soon as she’d left, you once again sat down at your computer. Before you could return your attention to your work, however, you couldn’t resist checking Instagram.

Someone had tagged Aleister in a photo on Instagram.

Yes, you were that pathetic that you always checked.

With trepidation, you clicked the link to look at what was there. As it too often did, the notification came from an airbrushed-looking woman, her collagen-enhanced lips pressed against his. She looked arrogant and proud, while he looked smug and inebriated.

“Guess who I got to hang with last night?” the caption gloated.

You knew damn well what “hang” was a euphemism for. He never cared that the Barbie dolls he hooked up with advertised their conquest on social media. He was single and hot. Why should he care if people knew that he always scored with the sort of women other men lusted after? Why should he care that it ripped your heart to shreds every time you saw him with another woman so unlike you in every way?

The woman had posted a few other photos of the two of them together, embracing. Every part of her magazine-ready body was on display, save those parts that would have gotten her in trouble. Her artificially perfect breasts were spilling out of a tiny tube top while her endless legs were shown in their full glory between the edge of a skirt that likely required her to trim her pubic hair and the sky high heels that raised her enough to press her lips to his without having to stretch herself awkwardly. She was nothing like you, with your unkempt hair and loose, bohemian dresses, your comfortable ballet flats and blandly natural face. She had all the glamour that you lacked and he ate it up.

The images of the two of them cut into you like a laser and, for once, all you desired was to break free from the pain of feeling. A few minutes later, when Bayley sent the text she’d promised with the details of where you could find the party tonight, you immediately responded.

“I’ll be there. I promise.”

To hell with Aleister and the designer women he adored, you told yourself as you returned to your article with a vengeance. Tonight you were going to do whatever it took to break the spell he had cast over you.

*

It was just after nine when you found yourself teetering to the entrance of the bar where the party was taking place. It was marked only by a subtle sign, no words, just a stylized anchor, and it was hidden away on a tiny street that was hardly more than an alley. In your fit of pique, you’d finished your article two hours before your deadline and then, having examined the options in your closet and found them wanting, headed out and spent entirely too much money on a new dress that clung perfectly to your breasts before flaring out to highlight the movements of your body, while covering just the bare minimum to maintain decency. You’d also picked up a stylish pair of ankle boots with heels higher than you were used to and that posed a legitimate threat as you made your way down the roughly paved road to the speakeasy-style bar.

A little further down the alley, you see a couple leaning against a car, taking turns swigging from a liquor bottle. The woman is one of those glamorous animals that makes you so insecure, laughing in drunken delight in a way that only confident people can. In one quick movement the man spins her around and bends her over the hood of the car. He immediately takes out his cock, stroking it a couple of times before he thrusts into her, one hand on her back while the other holds the bottle that he continues drinking from. And it’s a moment before you realize that it’s Aleister, fucking away at a woman whose name he won’t remember in a few hours.

The sight makes you want to curl up and die, makes you want to say that you’ve made a mistake and run along home so you can bawl your eyes out while you wait for his inevitable drunken arrival. But, if nothing else, the damage that you’ve done to your credit card in order to make yourself look just a bit more sexy and edgy than usual, as well as the glasses of wine you had already consumed to fortify your courage, push you forward. This is a test. In order to pass, you need to be able to ignore the man whose indifference is killing you and enter the world of others, where someone who wasn’t up to the standards of the rarified model girls might be willing to give you a second look.

Aleister doesn’t even glance up as you enter the bar a few feet away from him, can’t feel the dark weight of your eyes on him or the force with which you tear them away as you step through the door.

As soon as you do, you are once again frozen with the idea that you’ve made a mistake. When Bayley characterized this as a “get-together”, you’d assumed it meant a group of people spread out around a few tables chatting away and toasting Roman’s health. Instead, what greets you is a basement club full of people with a dance floor alive with writhing bodies. You recognize a few journalists but for the most part, the space is taken up with every WWE and NXT star you’ve ever heard of. It’s a convention of beautiful people and you can’t help but feel dowdy even in your overpriced finery.

You slowly descend the stairs, fully intending to look around, say hello to a few familiar faces and then bolt for the exit, but you’re immediately greeted by a familiar voice that fairly shrieks. “Oh my god woman, just look at you!”

It’s Sasha Banks, standing at the edge of the stairs with Bayley, who gives you an exaggerated round of applause.

“Miranda, you look amazing,” Sasha continues breathlessly. “Seriously, you’re putting everyone to shame.”

You don’t feel like you’re putting anyone to shame, least of all Sasha in her body suit that hugs every curve of her perfect little hourglass, but you blush at the compliment.

“Come on,” Bayley gushes, “we need shots to celebrate your hotness!”

She pulls both of you through the crowd to the bar and somehow is able to get the bartender’s attention almost immediately, ordering two rounds of tequila shots because, she tells you and Sasha, there’s no point in getting just one round when you know you’re going back for seconds. The three of you toast and toss down the shots and then immediately do so again and you have to admit that you’re feeling the warm glow already. Sasha, apparently feeling something herself, wraps her arms around you and once again reassures you that you are devastatingly beautiful.

Another shot is thrust into your hand, this time by Dash Wilder, who’s arrived with his Revival partner Scott Dawson. Wilder has always been attractive to you, so you give him as radiant a smile as you can manage and you swear he blushes a little just before he downs his shot. Dawson is hugging Sasha and Bayley close to him, allowing Dash to edge a little closer to you and you’re feeling a little high on yourself when another voice cuts through your circle.

“Miranda? Holy fuck I can’t believe you’re here!”

Roman Reigns pushes right through the bodies close to the bar and grabs you firmly by the shoulders, his eyes gradually focusing on yours. He’s grinning with an intensity that clearly comes from his being a little past feeling no pain but it doesn’t hamper the thrill it gives you when he wraps his arms around you and nearly crushes you in a hug.

“I mean, shit, I don’t think I’ve even talked to you since you did that interview,” he pouts. “Thank you so much for coming.”

You smile as another shot is pushed into your hand, biting your lip self-consciously. You down about half the shot before Roman grabs it from you and finishes it, breaking up with laughter. He signals the bartender for another round, keeping an arm around your back until the tray of shots arrives. You’re all toasting each other and you wonder why you ever questioned yourself for coming here because this is exactly what you needed.

“Come dance with me,” Roman chuckles, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the dance floor. He’s clearly floating on a sea of drunken bliss, goofing around and happy to have someone to have fun with, someone he didn’t expect to be there. Even if you wanted to resist his offer, you couldn’t because, while he isn’t doing anything that might hurt you, his grip is strong enough and the rest of him powerful enough to compel you forward.

The two of you deliberately dance like complete nerds in high school, awkward movements and ironic posturing until you’re both laughing so hard you can barely stand. It’s then that you realize that you’ve become the focus of some attention; Roman goddamn Reigns, the face of the company, the locker room leader, the man who everyone has come to celebrate, is dancing with you. Most of the people here have no idea who you are but because you’re with Roman, you are somebody. Basking in the subtle attention and envy, you close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the music, swaying to the beat until you feel a large pair of hands on your hips.

You open your eyes to see Roman pulling you closer to him with a devilish grin before spinning you around and pulling your back against his massive chest. You continue to move but at a slower pace, your movements limited by how close he’s holding you and the sensual way in which his body moves against yours. Keeping one arm loosely around you, he lets his other hand fall against your thigh, lightly playing with the hem of your dress. It makes you gasp.

“You never responded to any of my texts,” he murmurs gruffly in your ear.

You remember at least half a dozen messages asking if he could clarify anything or if you needed any additional material for your article. You hadn’t needed anything else but you suddenly feel terribly rude for not answering.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “you were very professional and I should have at least told you that I had what I needed.”

His voice drops even lower as he speaks. “I didn’t mean to be professional about them. And I was hoping that you didn’t have everything you needed.”

He pulls you up and firmly against him and for the first time you can feel his hardening cock through his pants. You can’t help but thrust your hips into him, barely able to process what’s happening to you. The two of you are still ostensibly dancing, although it’s more like a rhythmic grinding to the music as he reaches down and pulls the hem of your dress up, rubbing your thigh and then your ass as he presses his lips into your neck. His hands are everywhere on you and you’re aware that your entire lower body is basically on display for anyone who cares to look but you don’t care because it feels like you’ve won the lottery. You moan at the feeling of his growing excitement against your flesh, both his large hands grazing up the front of your thighs and for a moment you think that you’re ready to beg him to take you right there when you’re violently spun away from your dance partner, a bruising grip on your arm.

It’s Aleister, eyes incandescent with rage as he tells Roman, “I need to speak to her for a minute.”

Roman looks confused and tries to speak to you but Aleister drags you away and a gaggle of women immediately descend on Roman, desperate to take your place.

Aleister flings you against the wall, glaring at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen outside the ring.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

“I was dancing before you interfered,” you snap back at him, rubbing your arm.

“Dancing?” he repeats with derision. “That’s what you call that?”

“I was having fun.”

“What the hell are you wearing?”

For the first time since you saw him with his woman of choice outside, you feel ridiculous, like a girl trying to look glamorous by donning her mother’s clothes.

“I wanted something a little different.”

“A little?” he hisses back. “Do you realize what you look like? You’re all tarted up and letting some guy grab at you and get you half naked in front of a bar full of people.”

“What I look like?”

“Everyone could see practically your whole goddamned body. They could see what you were letting him do to you.”

“You mean to say I look like a whore.”

Aleister crosses his arms and glances away, refusing to confirm what you’ve said.

“So what, Aleister? So what if I’m letting a man touch me and show me that he wants me? Who cares who else sees? Maybe that’s what I want!”

“Are you so stupid that you think he wants you for anything other than a one night stand?”

The accusation stabs at your heart and your confidence but you’re determined not to let him see that.

“Again, so what? Maybe I’m happy to have this big, gorgeous man want me. Maybe I’m fine bringing him back to my place for a few hours of fun because at least it means someone is thinking of me as a sexual being for a change.” You pause, knowing the danger of what you’re about to say but unable to stop yourself. “Maybe I’d be fine if he just took me outside and fucked me over the hood of a car.”

For a second, you think that Aleister is going to strangle you. The look on his face is like the moment before the sky erupts in thunder and lightning. Truthfully, you expect that he’ll turn on his heel and walk away from you and never come back, and perhaps that’s what you need him to do so that you can get over him.

Instead, he grabs you, pinning you to the side of his body and pulling you towards the door. His movements make you stumble, and the more you try to resist him, the more ungainly you look.

“She’s dead drunk,” you hear him assure a few people, “I’m going to make sure she gets home.”

And while it’s true that you are drunk, you’re not nearly as drunk as he’s making you out to be. The second he has you outside, you try to twist away from him and go back, only for him to wind you closer, pulling you off balance so that you look even more inebriated.

You hear him whisper to Seth Rollins, who’s observing the spectacle through the corner of his eyes. “Look, tell Roman that she’s falling down drunk and I just had to get her home. No disrespect meant.”

Seth has a confused expression on his face but nods and tells him, “Sure thing.”

Realizing what Aleister is doing, you once again try to rush past him, but he blocks you, gripping your arm and pulling you after him so that you really do appear pathetically unable to take care of yourself.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” you shout at him, figuring that there’s no reason to worry about who might hear you, there being no further you can sink in their estimation. “Why can’t you just let me enjoy myself?”

“Jesus, Miranda, you’re loaded. You can barely stand up.” He emphasizes this by jerking your arm forward, which almost causes you to keel over onto your face. “You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

“No,” you insist, pulling yourself to a halt. “I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted. Sure I’m a bit tipsy but-“

“You don’t want that,” Alesiter snaps, threading his arm through yours and continuing down the street. “You don’t just want to whore yourself out for a night because you think it might help your self-esteem.”

“You don’t get to decide what I want, Aleister.” You’re crushed against his side and he’s moving so quickly that your feet only graze the ground every third or fourth step. “Let me go. I’m sick of playing the surrogate mother for someone who’s incapable of seeing me as a real woman. I want to go back there. I want to have someone make a show of wanting me. I want to get fucked so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Aleister shakes his head like a parent frustrated with a misbehaving child. “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

“So let me be ridiculous!” you yell back, trying unsuccessfully to extricate yourself from his grip. “What the hell is it to you? Are you worried that for once I’m not going to be there when you need a place to collapse at four in the morning?”

The two of you reach the corner where the alley meets the street and he swings you to face him, glowering at you with a terrifying expression, gripping your biceps so hard you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. He says nothing but stares at you until he whips his arm out and hails a taxi seemingly out of nowhere.

He launches you, there’s no other word for it, into the back seat of the car and snarls your address to the driver as your tears start to fall. The cabbie is noticeably uncomfortable with your quiet whimpering and seems confused by the fact that Aleister does nothing to comfort or engage you. He sits with his arms folded, scowling, until you arrive at your building. Reflexively, you reach for your purse only to have Aleister swat your hand away and pay the driver himself. You try to keep pace as he yanks you towards the door, but stumble because of your unsure footing in these strange heels and because your vision is glazed by the tears you’re fighting to hold in.

When Aleister pins you against the door and rummages through your purse to find your keys, it somehow feels more invasive than Roman gripping your ass for an entire bar full of people to see. You feel, for a moment, that he is looking at you with tenderness. But when the door opens, he simply guides you through it. As you hear it click shut, the last of your strength, physical and emotional, gives out and you drop to your knees, finally allowing the tears to fall. It’s a full-on ugly cry, punctuated by guttural, anguished sounds you’d never allow anyone else to hear. Despite everything, you desperately want to hear the door open again behind you and to hear him say that he’s realized he loves you.

But no, in the end, he’s just found it gross that the woman he sees as his caregiver might have another side. He found you pathetic in your overpriced dress and shoes. He knew that you were desperately trying to act like something you could never be: like someone who could compete with the perfected Instagram beauties he fucks every night. You could never be that. He knew that you were just a sad little woman decked out in a gaudy outfit. You’d never be that sexy, desirable person who stopped men dead in their tracks, no matter what your dance with Roman had temporarily led you to believe.

You’re on your knees for what seems like hours, choking on tears and snot and trying to restrain yourself from howling. Just as the sound overpowers you and a low wail escapes your lips, you’re startled by a pair of arms, familiar, tattooed arms wrapping around your waist from behind.

“Shh. There’s no need for any of that,” he grunts into your hair.

And while you’re shocked and thrilled that he actually stayed behind to make sure that you were ok, it’s also even more humiliating that he’s seen you fall apart so spectacularly. Your body feels limp with defeat and unable to react at all as he gathers you up and carries you into your bedroom, setting you gently on the edge of the bed. He rests his hand on yours for a moment and you’re able to stem the flow of tears until he stands up and heads back towards the door. This time, you’re determined to hold in the worst of your misery until you’re sure he’s gone, even though you can’t stop the tears from running down your face.

But after a few minutes of straining to hear the door close, you see Aleister return, a damp washcloth in hand, and he sits once again beside you on the edge of the bed. He presses the cloth, cool and soothing, against your cheeks and then holds your chin as he delicately wipes it across your face. It takes you some minutes to realize that he’s removing your smeared makeup, cleaning you off so that you look good as new, so that you look more like the plain girl who lets him into her home in the middle of the night, his touch filled with a tenderness that you never imagined him capable of. When he’s satisfied with his work, he tosses the cloth aside and wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against him. The sweetness of his friendly gesture makes you want to cry all over again but you choke it back, knowing that you’ll have plenty of time for that when he’s gone.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he whispers, the sound of his voice making you feel weak.

You nod and roughly pull back from him, unsure of your ability to stop yourself from throwing yourself at him and begging him to wreck you. You fumble with the zipper of your boots until Aleister slides off the bed and onto his knees and removes it for you. He glides his hand along your calf, up to your thigh and then moves to your other boot. As he slides it off, he presses his head against the side of your knee, giving the skin a light kiss before rocking back on his haunches. You know he’s being gentle with you because he feels sorry for you. He finds you pitiful, which is even worse than finding you asexual.

The feelings are too much for you to take and all you can think of is that you want to get into bed where you’ll be safe and where you can sleep off the nightmare your evening out has become. You clumsily shed your dress, stockings, bra and panties without thinking much of the fact that you have an audience. Why should it bother him seeing you naked, after all? Normally, you put on some nightclothes but you don’t even have the strength to bother. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Aleister has turned his head towards the door. He’s embarrassed for you, the way you would be if a parent or sibling was undressing around you.

You crawl under the covers with a grumbled “good night” and immediately start to feel yourself drift off. You’re jolted back to wakefulness when Aleister climbs in beside you. In all the time you’ve known him, as many nights as he’s come and collapsed on your sofa, you don’t think he’s ever seen your bedroom. Now, having seen it, he’s apparently happy not to leave it, indulging in the comfort of your bed without even asking permission. It makes you a little self-conscious that you’re nude but it’s hardly the most humiliating thing to happen to you tonight, so you let yourself ignore it. If you can just fall asleep, this night will be over and you can begin the process of trying to forget it.

It’s only a matter of seconds, though, until you feel his body pressed against yours from behind, one hand coming to rest flat on your stomach and pushing you back against him so that you are acutely aware that you are not the only person naked in the bed. The hand on your stomach flutters downward until his fingers are moving lightly over your pussy, like he’s plucking the strings of a harp. His other arm wraps around your shoulders and keeps you flush against him, close enough that you can’t mistake the feeling of his erection against your back.

He presses his lips and tongue against your neck, making you whimper as you try to keep your heart rate stable. Your little noises seem to motivate him further, his touch becoming more insistent and one of his legs snaking over yours, pulling it back to give his hand greater access.

“Such a little fool,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking insistently along your fleshy folds. “Thinking I don’t see you as a sexual being.”

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making you cry out- more from the shock than the pain. His mouth continues to move around your neck and shoulders, nipping and sucking on the skin there, his grip on you tightening until it’s nearly painful.

“What are you doing?” you manage to ask.

“Leaving marks,” he says matter-of-factly.

You’re at a loss for what to say, but are saved from having to answer as he pushes two fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. You’re embarrassed that he must have felt how wet you were just from being in his presence but he says nothing, quickening his pace and giving satisfied little growls when his touch elicits gasps and cries of pleasure from you.

It’s pity, you remind yourself; what he’s doing to you, he’s doing it because he feels sorry for you and because he’s drunk and horny despite his encounter earlier in the evening. But the thought gets whisked away as he brings you closer and closer to what you’ve desperately needed from him for so long. You let out a little shriek when he removes his hand, unable to believe he’s so cruel as to bring you to the precipice and then deny you. But he simply flips you onto your back before pressing his fingers inside you once more, watching your reactions to be sure he’s hitting just the right spot before burying his face between your legs. His tongue, lips and fingers work together like an orchestra. Your knuckles are white from the force of clenching on the sheets and you’re biting down so hard on your lip to muffle the sounds you’re making that you’re worried your teeth will end up permanently embedded. He unexpectedly raises his head and stills the movement of his hand inside you and the shock is almost enough to make you start crying again. You look down at him, his eyes sparkling in the low light with an expression you can’t read.

“Why won’t you let me hear you?”

Because you don’t want him to know how good his merciful little gesture is making you feel. Because you don’t want to admit to yourself that it’s better than you’d imagined. Truthfully, whenever you’ve thought about the mechanics of sex with Aleister, you imagined that it would be fast and rough and hedonistic, much like his other sexual encounters seem to be. But he’s chosen this moment to take his time, to focus on his partner, rather than go for a quick, dirty fuck in a darkened corner.

You don’t tell him any of this, instead croaking out, “I’m shy.”

He raises himself up and over your body with the effortless grace of a serpent, pressing his head close to yours and kissing along your jawline.

“What do I have to do to make you not be shy?”

“I don’t know… I just… am.” You wriggle a little under him, turning your face away when he looks directly into your eyes.

He cups your face in one hand and runs the other, still wet with your juices, over your breast, teasing the nipple and making you shudder involuntarily.

“Am I moving too fast?”

You shake your head, not quite trusting your voice.

“Is there something that you’d enjoy more? Something you want me to do for you?”

You give him another little shake of the head.

“You don’t have to be shy with me. Whatever you want, I want you to tell me so I can give it to you. Anything.”

For the first time, he kisses you on the lips, his tongue, that still tastes of you, slides against yours and the hand at the side of your face slides to hold your neck, cradling your head so that you don’t have to tense any muscles to stay in that position. Your body has nothing it needs to do but experience the sensations he’s creating. Of course, you still answer his kiss, hungrily flashing your tongue against his, reveling in the light scrape of his lip ring against your lips. His hand glides back down between your legs, and even the proximity is enough to draw a couple of little mewls of pleasure. You feel him smile a little against your lips at the noises and he pulls away from the kiss.

“Am I making you feel good?”

You nod as he starts to work his fingers around your entrance once again.

“Do you want my mouth down there again?”

You nod even more vigorously than the first time but he shakes his head.

“Tell me. Say it out loud.”

You open your mouth to do so and he immediately thrusts his long fingers into your g-spot and your clit at once, making you yelp in pleasure. It’s almost enough to make you cum on its own but he eases the pressure before you reach that peak.

“Yes?” he asks again.

“Yes, fuck, yes!”

“Then let me hear you. Please.”

He returns his attention to your core and has you making all manner of unholy noises in short order. He expertly teases you and then holds back, so many times that when he does finally take you over the edge, you feel like you might pass out from the intensity of it. Your gasps for breath sound cavernous in the quiet room.

He keeps the palm of his hand firmly against you as he leans forward and presses his lips into your neck, letting out a satisfied purr every time an aftershock rolls through your body.

When he’s satisfied that you’ve fully come down, he raises himself up on his arms, giving just the hint of a smile when you grab onto his biceps to steady yourself.

He’s so rigid that he doesn’t even need a hand to guide himself into you. He simply presses forward in one slow but sure moment, his eyes closed as if it’s a kind of religious experience, not opening them until he’s fully seated inside you. It’s been long enough since you’ve been with anyone that the feeling of being stretched draws a little whimper from your throat. He remains still, his eyes open and bearing down on you with a delirious kind of excitement, aching prick twitching inside you, desperate to proceed but waiting for a signal that he can.

And it’s at that moment that you allow yourself to think that this isn’t pity or a drunken mistake, that he’s as hungry for you as you have been for him and that what’s happened tonight has just served to connect a circuit. The fiercely possessive look in his eyes as he watches you, the fury when he thought someone else was claiming you, the need to mark you to make you his, the flush of pure lust on his face and chest… it is just a little frightening, something you suspected was in him but never that it was focused on you. But you’ve always known you could handle his darkness if he let you in. So you thrust your hips a little and wrap your legs loosely around his waist to show him that he can continue. Just as he starts to move, he cups your face and presses his mouth to your ear.

“You deserve so much better.”

“Stop trying to make those decisions for me,” you moan, feeling your insides flutter with his movements.

“I’ve never felt anything like that jealousy.” He’s staring into your eyes as he confesses. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder pressing deeper inside you and gasping at the feeling. “Knowing that everyone could see how sexy and beautiful you are… And I’m an idiot for waiting for that to happen before I did anything, I just…”

He grimaces and slows his pace a little, obviously trying to prolong the sensation.

“You mean it?” You have to ask because you still can’t quite believe that this has been on his mind for all this time when he’s shown no sign of it to you.

“God yes,” he answers through gritted teeth, once again allowing himself to move faster and more urgently.

You can’t completely banish your fears that he’s going to regret this in the morning and just shut you out again but every second with him is pushing them further away. You lace your fingers through his hair, nipping at the shell of his ear as he lets out his own stream of desperate, lusty noises, running your nails gently down his back as he approaches his crescendo.

His head drops to your chest and he cries out as he releases inside you.

“Fuck I love you, fuck I love you, fuck I love you.” He repeats it like a mantra that brings him back down from his high, saying it a final time as he looks into your eyes.

Slowly, he rolls onto his side, gathering you close to him like he thinks an errant breeze might carry you away.

“I have…” he begins quietly, “… there’s a lot that goes on in my head… Bad things, I guess. I thought you’d run away. Or that I’d pull you down with me. I still don’t know that won’t happen.”

He looks so vulnerable that it makes your heart hurt but at the same time you have to stifle a smile.

“Well I’d rather you let me try to deal with it. I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for being.”

His expression grows a little guilty and he nods. He wraps his arms tighter around you and you do the same until the two of you are lying in your bed, wound around each other.