#I know these are made specifically so I /can/ see far away but like! I'm still a visual artist who needs to see up close too! Lol

[thebroccolination]

FACT: BOUNPREM ARE MORE BEAUTIFUL IN PERSON

I met BounPrem in Rome yesterday, survived, and can give a reliable firsthand account that both of them are astonishingly beautiful, extremely tall, and profoundly lovely.

I had the photo benefit, so I brought my Nong Broc, and both of them lit up when they saw WinTeam's son. :') I'm sure I was far from the only one who brought Nong Broc specifically, but they still seemed genuinely surprised and excited to see overseas fans with official merch.

Boun even pointed and said, "HEY!" with delight when he recognized him. My interaction with them was very short, so I didn't have time to say much to them, but I can provide firm testimonial that they're real and they're very sweet. :''''')

During the Q&A, both Boun and Prem said that the fanmeeting in Rome is their favorite memory they've made in their careers so far. It's such a huge milestone for them, so I can see why. A couple of years ago, a fan asked Boun during an Instagram live if he and Prem would do a fanmeeting in Europe, and Boun laughed, "Who would go to that?"

Now he knows: a metric ton of people. :''''''')

On a personal note, I'm still reeling from hearing Prem sing "It's Always You" from the Between Us OST. It was my top song on Spotify Wrapped in 2022 (I was in the .001 percentile of listeners, which I've included on my resume) and made repeat reappearances in 2023 and 2024, so when the music began, I actually held my breath. We cheered for him periodically throughout the song (which I know isn't common in Japan and probably not in Thailand either from my experience at Krist's concert?). Prem seemed surprised and then encouraged and almost giddy about the reaction, and I think he really fed off the energy. :'''''''''''''''''')

At one point, Boun said in Thai something like, "I really love you guys. Every time I say something, you cheer." (We cheered again.)

Prem also said something to the effect of: flying to Rome was the longest he's ever traveled (ten hours) and yet the enthusiasm and love from the fans at the event made his exhaustion from the journey melt away.

Also of note! Of the five khuujin who attended the event, BounPrem were the only ones to sell out every benefit level. I say that not to downplay the other khuujin at all, but to celebrate that achievement for BounPrem specifically. Since this is their first year in GMMTV, every accomplishment like that contributes to their future stability and success, and I'm so proud of them for making it like this. <3

Also, also! On another personal note, Boun and Prem were asked who in GMMTV they've befriended since they joined, and Boun did not name my other son Krist, so I'm going to be working on that in my Manifesting Circle for 2025.

My sons will be friends. I vow it.

With luck, the next time I see BounPrem will be at the series finale event of Revamp. :>

Oh, and Prem said Revamp will be airing this year, so whoo!

[scrollonso]

Cinnamon — Strollonso (7) (prev)

Fernando: I'm at the front.

Lance checked his phone when a text from his boyfriend — that's what they were, right? — lit up the screen, smiling to himself as he threw down the pen in his hands to reply.

Lance: I’m almost done. I’ll be out soon. 💚💚💚

Shoving his phone into his pocket, Lance continued to close up the Aston Martin building. He was doing it later than his father usually did today — at 7:00 pm rather than the usual 5:00 pm as his father had to attend business elsewhere.

Organizing files, putting things away, and then shutting off the lights, Lance locked the building up for the day before walking outside, slipping his phone out so he could text his boyfriend again.

It came naturally, running a business like this. He was practically a trained dog for it.

Before he could click on their chat, a pair of voices were heard and Lance looked up, seeing his boyfriend and a man who was standing far too close for his liking engaged in a conversation.

It was only when the man took a step forward, placing his hand on his boyfriend’s arm did Lance's lips purse, tucking his phone away.

There wasn’t a specific feeling Lance could identify in that moment, but a tight pressure built in his chest. His fists clenched, and thats when he understood— jealousy. He's so embarrassingly jealous over practically nothing.

There was absolutely no reason for him to feel this way — he trusted Fernando. He knew him. Still, the idea that someone was touching his boyfriend — someone other than him —was fuelling a kind of anger he rarely experienced.

Lance began to surge forward, needing to put an end to it when Fernando's following actions had his heart feeling light. He watched dutifully as his boyfriend tilted his head, staring at the guy’s hand on his arm intensely for a second before taking an obvious step back. A small breath of air left Lance's lips, loosening the ache in his throat.

The guy’s hand fell away, and his smile dimmed momentarily. Watching Fernando's stance, Lance could tell he was starting to get uncomfortable. Fernando's eyes flickered back to the main entrance of the building where he expected Lance to walk through, and he nodded his head, talking less and less to the stranger before him.

Lance took this opportunity to make his way over, a smile on his face. As he got closer, he could hear their conversation more clearly — realizing the guy was talking about something Lance was familiar with, having an entire shop dedicated to cars.

“So, I was just wondering if you could help me pick the next car for my collection? Maybe we could grab a bite now if you’re free! I know this great dinner place a five-minute walk from here,” the guy suggested.

Before Fernando could talk, Lance spoke up instead.

“Hi, Fer.” Lance stood beside him, his smile widening as he looked up at him, his arm wrapping around Fernando's waist. Enjoying how the older man instantly relaxed into the hold, and warmth filled Lance.

Fernando's hand went straight to Lance's back, his fingers twisting around a the fabric of his formal jacket.

Lance turned his head back to the guy before them, whose eyes flicked between the two of them before returning to Fernando's face, completely ignoring Lance.

“So, are you free? I’m confused about—” the guy continued.

“I own Aston Martin,” Lance interrupted. He might as well get business out of this unpleasant situation. “I can assess your interests and find a vehicle that—“

“I wasn’t asking you. I was asking him.”

“Excuse me?” Lance scoffed, incredulous. No way he was being spoken to like that. Not after this stranger was shamelessly flirting with his man.

The guy’s tone made Fernando straighten up. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to help you,” Fernando said simply, his voice flat.

The guy’s demeanor changed instantly, shock infiltrating his features. His soft smile was replaced with disgust. Aimed at Lance. Lance shifted on his feet, his fists clenching again as he tried to take a step forward so he could sock this cunt right in the face.

The only thing stopping him was Fernando's grip on his waist, unrelenting, forcing him to stay still.

“Listen here—“ Lance began, and was cut off.

“What? Why?” the guy asked, confused, still ignoring Lance as he only directed his attention to his boyfriend.

“Apologize.” “Apologize?”

“Yes.” Fernando repeats in a condescending tone. “Apologize to my boyfriend.”

When the stranger stays silent, his mouth agape, Fernando sighs as if he’s bored and turns to look down at an equally shocked Lance. “Are you finished?”

“Mhm,” Lance hums quietly, and his boyfriend nods, moving his hand from his waist and slipping it into Lance's hand instead. He firmly grips it, dragging them both towards his car.

“Hey!” Lance exclaims, looking over his shoulder at the stranger. “I haven’t hit him yet!”

“It’s time to go home, Lancito.” Fernando said monotonously. “Come on,” Fernando dragged his boyfriend to the passenger side, opening the door before setting his hands on Lance's waist.

Before he could protest, Lance was easily lifted into the air and set in the seat, and Fernando reached across his body to buckle him in.

“I’m mad at you.” Lance said once the click of the seatbelt had been secured. Fernando sighed, resting an arm at the top of the car as he peered inside towards his boyfriend.

“Why?”

“You let that ugly creature touch you.”

“I moved away.”

“Still,” Lance huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looked away. “You should’ve done more.”

“Like what?”

“Kill him.”

That had Fernando cracking a small smile, and he raised his free hand to cup Lance's jaw, gently turning his face so they were staring at each other again.

Lance stared into his boyfriend’s eyes intensely, trying to keep the frown on his face. He wasn’t mad, not really. Just a bit annoyed. Not at his boyfriend but at the dumb fuck who—

His thoughts were cut off when Fernando leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. Brain short circuiting, Lance's eyes closed instantly and he was arching into the delicate touch, wanting to deepen it.

Fernando entertained him for a few seconds before pulling away, staring at him again.

“Happy?”

“No,” Lance scowled. “Fuck me and I will be.”

“We’re in front of your dad's company.”

“Sexy. Now take your pants off.”

Fernando pulled away fully, laughing to himself as he slammed the passenger door shut in his boyfriend’s face. With a slacked jaw, Lance watched as his Fernando rounded the car before getting into the driver’s seat and hopping in.

“You’re mean,” he told Fernando once he had settled in.

Fernando shrugged, starting the car. “You like it.” As much as Lance wanted to deny it, he couldn’t. He lived for Fernando's mock rudeness — loved it, in fact.

Lance squirmed in his seat as Fernando began to drive them back to Lance's house. The thought of being home and alone with Fernando's had Lance even more restless, fisting his hands on his thighs to try and subside the burning pleasure inside his body.

It didn’t help when Fernando reached across the console to set his big hand on Lance's thigh, holding him down firmly halting any movements.

His hand was so uncharacteristically large that it could easily circle majority of the surface of Lance's thigh, and that very idea of Fernando being much bigger and stronger than him — in every way besides height — only made his breath catch in his throat.

Instead of saying something, Fernando teased Lance by rubbing small circles on the inside of his thigh using his pinkie. Looking over at his boyfriend, he could see the almost lazy way Fernando was presenting himself. His free hand — the one not currently torturing Lance — was set easily on the steering wheel. He looked so composed, so bored, and it only served to make the situation more enthralling.

“Fer,” Lance whined softly, unable to take anymore. If the growing tent in his jeans served to prove anything, he didn’t know what could.

“What is it, Lance?” Fernando asked, feigning confusion. “Did you forget something at the shop?”

“No , you fucking—“

Lance's words cut short when Fernando pressed his hand against the younger boy's boner and a desperate pant left his mouth as he shut his eyes.

Trying to cope, Lance held his breath until they finally reached his house. Clicking off his seatbelt, Lance made quick work of turning to Fernando and yanking his shirt close, sealing their lips together in a burning kiss. Moaning in his mouth, Lance started to climb into his boyfriend’s lap when Fernando stopped him with a push to his chest.

Whining, Lance pulled away and stared desperately into his eyes.

“I still have some papers left to grade,” Fernando murmured, and that had Lance heating up even more.

“But—“

“Will you be a good boy and wait for me? It won’t take that long.” Lance sighed, nodding his head and let Fernando go — watching him pull out his own school bag as he did so. Before he could get far, though, Fernando pressed a soft kiss against his mouth as a thank you before they both exited the car.

“Will you be fast?” Lance sadly asks.

Fernando nods, and they enter the house. Slipping off their shoes, Lance grabs Fernando before he can fully retreat into one of the spare rooms he'd been using for wodk.

“Give me a goodbye kiss.” He demands.

“I just kissed you in the car, Lance.”

Lance frowns. “Yes, but that wasn’t to say goodbye.”

Instead of arguing, Fernando leans down and gives Lance what he wants knowing if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be left alone long enough before his boyfriend is whining at his office door wanting to come in and makeout some more. After a quick kiss Fernando practically runs to his makeshift office, leaving a pouting Lance behind as he shouts after him.

“Hey! That wasn’t a proper kiss you cheater!”

A couple hours had passed by and Lance decided it was time to check out what his boyfriend was doing.

Innocently, of course. He had even ordered takeout and just wanted Fernando to eat. Nothing more, truly.

Pushing open the door to his office, Lance sees Fernando slouched on a comfy chair with his — practically useless — glasses pushed to the top of his head, pushing back his hair in a way that does something to Lance's stomach.

As Lance walks towards him, food in hand, he takes his time observing his boyfriend.

Fernando is leaning forward on the desk, his left hand cupping his head while his right plays with a black pen. Lance can see how focused he is on marking what he assumes is another assignment Lance didn't do, the small furrow in his brows lighting a smile on his face wondering what made him confused to the point where he's unsure on how to assess it. Fernando shifts his glasses back in place, most likely trying to work again.

"I seem to be lost, professor." Lance says out loud once he’s close enough, and Fernando is finally aware of his presence with a startle, looking up before a small smile crosses his features.

He easily puts away his pen, gathering up the papers on the desk and shuffling them into a neat pile. The entire action is so studious it makes Lance want to fuck him in that chair.

"What brings you here, Mr. Stroll" Fernando asks formally, playing along, and Lance rounds the desk just as he leans back in his chair, swivelling it in his direction as he approaches him. His legs spread just slightly, and Lance feels that action deep inside of him.

"Oh, y'know." Lance says airily, a shrug to his shoulders. "I was just around."

"Around?"

"Getting dinner," He clarifies, shaking the takeout bag in his hand softly to show him. "And I thought of you."

"Thinking about me after class?"

Lance sets the food on the desk before crawling in his lap, his knees on either side of Fernando's thighs as his arms wrap around his neck. His boyfriend’s own hands settle on his waist, stroking up and down in a caress.

Lance had changed into embarrassingly short shorts and a tight tiffany green shirt, his exposed skin being touched so delicately it made him shiver.

"You are my favourite professor." Lance whispers against his lips, brushing his own over and over again in a caress not yet making full contact.

"You're a tease." Fernando says, tilting his head up trying to connect their lips.

Since Lance was on top, he realized the small amount of power he held over his boyfriend. Though, it quickly dissolved when Fernando's right hand leaves his waist and pushed up his glasses so they sit on the top of his head, cupping the back of Lance's neck in a firm hold and pushing his face down so it can finally meet his.

Fernando moans into his mouth, most likely tasting the small dessert his boyfriend had eaten earlier and Lance shifts closer, fully settling into his lap. Fernando's left hand travels down to Lance's thigh, fingertips pushing up the fabric just enough to mess with him.

It's only when they pull away — Lance's hands cupping Fernando's face does he talk again.

"You missed me." Fernando says simply.

"I brought you dinner."

"You wore these short little shorts, and interrupted me just to bring me dinner?”

"You're my professor." Lance deflects, not so subtly making him let out a soft laugh.

"Ah, you wanna continue playing." Fernando nods, understanding what his boyfriend wants. They occasionally role played — though majority of the time it involved Lance begging his boyfriend to do something dangerous, the fear eliciting pleasure. Never before had it been just a version of their reality in a different font.

Fernando gives his boyfriend’s neck a small squeeze before settling both hands on his thighs again. Lance moves back just slightly so he can look down, seeing the contrast in their size. His hands are so large that they fill the expanse of his thighs, even squished together making him shiver.

"So you came here to... what? Bring me dinner and leave?"

"I dunno." Lance shrugs innocently. "Maybe get a grade or two."

"And you think dinner is enough for a grade or two?"

"What else could you want?"

Fernando takes his time checking him out, fingers tracing the column of his neck before slipping into the top of the shirt and pulling at it enough to separate the fabric from my chest.

"You shouldn't be doing that," Lance whispers. "You're my professor."

"You're the one who came here looking for a free grade. Shouldn't I get something in return?"

"I brought you food." Lance's hands fall to his shoulders, fingers curling in the fabric as he continues his feather like touch where he wants him the most.

"I would like to eat something," He nods, and a smirk lights his features when he reaches down under Lance's thin shorts and palms him fully, his fingers most likely feeling the damp underwear.

"My, Lance." He taunts. "Are you wet for your teacher? Does the way I lecture you turn you on?"

"You're not being fair."

"Aren't I? You decided to come meet me during the night, wearing these short fucking shorts and this cute little innocent expression hoping I'd eat your fucking dinner and grade you an A. I don't think you're being fair."

His fingers hook into Lance's underwear, yanking the fabric to the side so he can access his dick. As soon as Lance feels him give him a quick, rough stroke, his eyes growing hazy as he slumps forward.

He can see the way Fernando is smiling at him, watching his every emotion with exert attention and it heightens every feeling.

"Fernando," he whispers.

"So now we're on first name basis?"

"Put your fingers inside of me."

"I bet you'd like to be fucked in this room. The very idea of someone walking in on you acting so desperate turns you on, doesn't it?"

"You're being mean."

He laughs in his face at that, his smile widening as he continues his teasing down below. He's playing with his wetness, spreading it around, swirling his fingers yet not giving him enough to become satisfied. Fernando is busy gathering his boyfriend’s pre-cum on the tips of his fingers to care how Lance feels.

"You're supposed to be nice to me," Lance whimpers. "I brought you dinner. I was nice to you."

"You want me to fuck you," He states simply. "Don't try and twist shit around."

"But—" Lance is cut off when Fernando slips two fingers inside of him, knuckles deep, knocking the air out of his lungs. He instantly slumps against him, unable to keep himself up feeling the shallow fucking of his fingers inside of him.

Fernando's laughing again, the sound close to his ears as he shivers against him and shuts his eyes.

"Aw, look at how sensitive you are," Fernando murmurs softly against his boyfriend’s ear, lips brushing against the shell. "You're practically drooling all over me."

Lance can't respond, too deep into the pleasure as he curls his fingers with every thrust, hitting a spot inside of him that has Lance pushing his hips against him for more.

Fernando's other hand wraps around his back, anchoring Lance to him as his fingers play with his hair, pulling it away from his face so he can watch his boyfriend intently.

He's murmuring pretty words to Lance that are drowned out by the noise of his fucking.

Look how pretty you are.

You practically jumped in my lap at the idea of getting fucked.

I wonder what grade you'll earn if I fuck your hole.

Only when he slips his fingers out, bringing them up to Lance's face does he open his eyes and blink away the haze.

Fernando is opening and closing the two fingers that were inside of his boyfriend, watching the wetness string together in fascination.

Something about the way he’s so wet turns Fernando on, and he's always taking time to play with it, feel it, look at it and show Lance in attempts to embarrass him. It seems to work when his face flushes red, and he try to scramble off Fernando's lap.

But Fernando doesn't let me get far, instead twisting him around and pulling him back against his chest so he’s sat facing away from him.

He forcefully pulls his legs open so they lay over his thighs, his other hand cupping Lance's jaw controlling where he looks as he lowers his lips to his ear again and shoves his fingers in his face so he can see them once more.

"You see how wet you are, baby?"

Lance can only nod, swallowing roughly.

"I want to spread you on this desk and eat you."

A mewl sounds Lance's throat and he’s squirming in his lap, wanting to close his legs desperately as he clutched the ends of his shirt.

"But you'll be mean to me." Lance whines.

"But you like that," Fernando says feigning innocence. "You like how mean I am, the words I call you. You like the way I toss you around and fuck you the way I want."

"You're going to fuck me? He— here?" Lance look around, imagining a lecture hall with all the empty chairs and the amount of people who could fill them if they were there. That thought has him closing his legs for an entirely different reason — would Fernando continue if someone happened to walk in?

Instead of answering, Fernando decides to shove his right hand back under his pants, pushing it off of Lance, fully leaving him in his underwear.

His left hand works on his top, rifling up the material so he has better access to his chest. Lance is shaking in his hold at the feeling of fingers entering him again as Fernando plays with his nipples, twisting and panting in his boyfriend’s hold while his hips betray him and seek more.

Lance clutches desperately onto Fernando's wrist when he starts finger fucking him faster, the action too much to bare and Fernando pinches his nipple in retaliation.

Even if Lance wants to close his legs, Fernando starts to fuck him faster until he’s nothing but a broken mess slumped against him, his small pants turning into the smallest of cries.

The sound Lance is making down there has him flushed red — precum dripping down to coat his holes giving the allusion that he really is wet. Wet like a girl. Fernando continues on with his taunting as he presses a kiss to the side of his head over and over again.

"Ah— Fer... Fernando I'm—"

Fernando shifts his fingers just slightly, hitting somewhere deep inside of his boyfriend that causes the pressure in his stomach to build intensely on a new level.

"Please... please..."

"I hope someone does walk in just so they can see how desperate you are. Do you think they'll stay to watch the show? Or maybe they'll take out their phone to record you cumming all over my lap and replay it in the privacy of their own home."

"But I'm yours," Lance whimpers uselessly.

"Aw, you are mine, baby. You think I'd share your pussy with anyone else?"

His words untangle the last knot inside of him and Lance cries out his orgasm, shivering and shaking and plastering himself to Fernando's lap as he rides it out.

He’s left jolting every now and then, his hands still holding onto Fernando's wrist as he gently eases out of him to go back on his dick, gathering the new cum that spilled out of his tip so he can showcase his cum again.

It's stringing to his fingers, to his dick, creating a gigantic mess and Lance purses his lips together in a tight line, not wanting to make a sound as he shifts in his lap so he’s sideways.

Fernando brings those fingers to his mouth, sucking his boyfriend’s cum off of him and he wants to cry. Instead, Lance presses his face against his chest, curling his hands into his sweater inhaling him in.

"You let that man touch you," Lance tells him. "I wanna burn this sweater."

"I'm sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you."

"How?"

Fernandi grab a fistful of Lance's hair, twisting his head up enough so that he can lower his head and kiss him. He’s eating at his mouth, slanting his face to deepen it as his teeth nip and suck and taste him.

His boyfriend looks disheveled and soft, all sweetness and trust as he leans into him as if Fernando is his anchor. Lance's moaning into his mouth, curling against him tighter and he shifts his hands to adjust his boyfriend in his lap so he remains secure.

It feels like minutes upon minutes until they’re forced to break for air, and then Fernando is standing up with Lance in his arms and pushing the takeout bag he brought him to the side, settling him on the edge of the desk.

It seems like the coolness of the wood affects Lance since he shivers again, letting out a small breath of air. Fernando pushes apart his legs, standing in between them, and places his hands on his thighs rubbing up and down in soothing motions, hiking up the fabric of his shirt with every stroke.

Lowering his head so they’re eye level, Fernandk whispers , "Would you still like me to fuck you, Lance?"

His eyes darken, lids lowering as his lower lip curves into an adorable pout.

"In here?"

"Mhm..."

He takes his answer as a sign to hook his fingers in his boyfriend’s belt loops, pulling Fernando impossibly closer to the space between his legs before hurrying to unzip his jeans. Lance only stops when Fernando covers his hands with his own, sending Lance a sweet smile which halts his movements entirely.

"Slow down, baby." Fernandk says kindly and — like a good boy — he does, doing as he says.

Finally, when his jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped, Lance slides back on the desk and spreads his legs further, tilting his hips in his direction.

Fernando easily takes the lead, pushing down his jeans and boxers enough to pull out his dick and bring it near the boy before him.

Fernando watches in shuddering movements as Lance reaches down between his spread legs, grasping the damp fabric between his fingers and pulling it down his legs so his boyfriend can have easy access to where he wants him the most.

The action is the hottest thing Fernando had seen him do, that combined with yanking up his shirt to his waist has Fernando holding back a groan.

With a step forward, Fernando pressed the tip of his dick to his entrance, his other hand holding down his shaky thigh keeping Lance plastered to the desk.

He easily reached behind his boyfriend, grabbing a bottle of lube and pouring it on his dick.

Fernando takes this moment to watch his boyfriend watch him, his eyes directed to the space between them, his lower lip rolled into his mouth as a means to hold off his pretty sounds, his eyes widening just enough so that Lance can see how fucking precious he is.

After what feels like centuries does Fernando move again, moving his hips slowly and pushing into him, pausing so Lance can adjust to his size. Lance lets out the cutest noise — a muffled cry as his head falls forward to press against his boyfriend’s chest breathing heavily.

"You alright, mi sol? You okay?" Fernando breathes out, stroking his thigh in kind movements.

Lance gives him a jerky nod, urging Fernando to continue with a tilt to his hips. Fernandk nods back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before giving Lance another inch.

The process continues until he’s fully inside of Lance, hips flushed together and the only thing that separates them is the minimal amount of air.

Lance's forehead is still pressed against his boyfriend’s chest, his hands still curled into his sweater while Fernando's are resting on his hips, holding him close.

"Talk to me, Lance. Tell me how you feel." Fernando urges, pressing kiss after kiss to his hair. Lance is  breathing heavily, his body jerking and every minuscule movement from him has Fernando holding back a moan.

Slowly, in lethargic form, does he lift his head and look up at his boyfriend, his face tired and skin damp.

"Can you record me?"

Fernando pauses, looking down at his lover not sure if I heard him correctly.

"What?"

His fingers curl tighter into his sweater, a flush growing on Lance's pretty face. "Will you record you fucking me? Just so I can... just so I have something."

Fernando removes his hands from his legs, cupping his face in his hands to make sure he didn't accidentally fuck something loose in his head.

"You want me to record you getting fucked?"

Lance nods, looking painfully shy and Fernando's heart expands at the desolate look in his eyes — as if he’s scared that Fernando will judge him.

"Grab me your phone, baby."

"You won't record with yours?"

Fernandk shakes his head, stroking Lance's hair and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I care for you so much, Lancito. So much. And I know you trust me, of course I trust you, too. But this is something private. And if you want your body recorded, it'll always be on your phone so you know where it is and you have it safe. Do you understand?"

Lance smiles. "I understand, Nando." And then he’s reaching for his pocket, slipping his phone out and handing it to him in shaky movements.

Fernando takes it from Lance easily, looking at him once again just to confirm that this is what he wants and he nods making Fernando type in his passcode and press the camera app.

Lance lays back down on the desk, shivering with need when Fernando let out a small groan at his movements and press record, positioning the phone so that his entire body is focused.

Lance's shy at first, bringing up his arm to cover his face which is fine with Fernando since this is going at his boyfriend’s pace.

When he feels secure with everything, Fernando lets out a breath of air before grasping onto Lance's waist with his free hand and sliding him all the way to the edge of the desk so he has a better hold on him.

"I'm going to move, sweetie." Fernando murmurs in warning, and when Lance nods he starts to thrust inside him. In and out and in and out until he’s crying out again.

Lance's back arches, lifting off the wood thrusting his chest near his boyfriend and Fernando slides his hand up, yanking up the top of his shirt so he can access them.

Fernando immediately cups them in his hands, squeezing roughly, strumming his thumb up and down his nipple before giving it a sharp pinch.

Lance squeals, bringing his knees up making Fernando take his hand away for a second to send a sharp slap to the inside of his thigh.

"Put your legs down." Fernando says roughly, trying to hold back his orgasm as best as he can. Lance complies immediately, sending his boyfriend a pout making Fernando grip his face in his hand, squishing his cheeks together while he continues to thrust.

"You're a fucking brat." Fernando hisses at him, and instead of apologizing Lance smiles, making Fernando lean down and kiss him roughly.

His hand slides to his neck, fingers curling around Lance's throat not squeezing but letting him know that he would be taking the lead.

It's hard to record him and kiss him at the same time but Fernando makes it work, and when he’s done he pulls away to a dazed Lance holding onto his sweater trying to yank him back.

Instead, Fernando continues to create distance between them, slowing down his movements and fucking him nice and deep, jolting his body with every thrust.

Lance gasps every time, mouth parting, eyes glazing, and his fingers start to grow lax on his body.

"Fer," Lance's moaning again, begging his boyfriend to speed up. Fernando can tell he’s close to the edge, close to reaching another climax which is why he wants to draw it out as punishment.

"What is it, baby?" Fernando taunts. “Am I not fucking you the way you want?" Lance shakes his head, going to say something when he gets cut off. " Too fucking bad."

That earns Fernando a charming little tantrum as Lance yanks at his sweater, squeezes his legs around his boyfriend to pull him closer, arches his back to shove him in deeper.

Fernando scowls down at Lance knowing what he’s doing, but it soon turns into a smile as an idea forms in hid head. Clasping under his knee, Fernando spreads his leg enough so he can bury himself further into him and fuck him like that.

Lance's whining and whimpering, squirming and clawing at Fernando's chest when his boyfriend forces his eyes to open, hanging his head and letting out soft moans as he lets himself reach an orgasm.

Lance's cries echo across the room, no doubt reaching every crevice of the house and Fernando lets out a curse.

"Fuck— fuck, Lance... you're such a fucking brat. Look at how pathetic you are dripping all over my cock... Fuck , baby you're so sweet."

Fernando's cum spills into him, and with his hips tilted Fernando was able to fuck it deep into Lance's hole. The idea to plug it closed filled with his cum enters his mind, and he has to grit his teeth before he does something about it.

Fernando lets himself ride it out, slowing down his thrusts before setting his phone down so it's leaning against the takeout bag, pointing in his direction.

With a groan, Fernando pulls out of him and heaves out a breath, and Lance sits up and looks at his boyfriend incredulously when Fernando sits back down on the chair and leans his head back to catch his breath.

"But... but I didn't—"

"Since you decided to be in charge, sit on my fucking dick and make yourself come."

Lance's mouth gapes open as he looks down at the spot between his legs, one that is currently dripping full of his cum and he notices from my peripheral vision that Fernando is smirking to himself.

With a glare his way, Lance does just that, slipping off the desk and crawling into his lap once more. Pressing his forehead against Fernando's shoulder, he looks between his legs and grasps his boyfriend’s dick in his hands, stroking it a few times on purpose making him hiss at the sensitivity before aligning it with his entrance and sinking down.

Lance's face turns to press into his neck, small pants leaving his mouth again as both of his hands grasp Fernando's shoulders for stability.

Fernando is doing nothing to help him, his hands laying on the armrests as Lance grinds in circles on his dick. All in hopes of cumming one last time.

His eyes squeeze shut, his cries muffled, and Lance turns his head so his mouth is at Fernando's jaw, biting his chin in retaliation for doing this to him as he takes one hand off his shoulder and shove it between them, grasping his dick.

Instead of getting angry, Fernando laughs at his boyfriend’s visible frustration, and he starts murmuring things that make Lance want to cry.

"You need to cum that badly? God, you're pathetic."

"I want to hit you very very badly," Lance tells him in a whine, for the first time wishing he'd shut up.

Fernando flickers his eyes from Lance's face to his body, noticing the pathetic fucking he’s currently doing and smiles to himself.

"Do you need my help, Lancito?"

"I need you to stop talking."

"Aw, I thought you needed me. Was that a lie?"

Lance lets out a noise deep in his throat akin to a growl, and clasps a hand over Fernando's mouth so he stops. When he doesn't fight Lance on staying silent, he finally allows himself to take it slow and fuck himself thoroughly on his cock, stroking his dick at a pressure he likes and pressing his face back against his neck.

Breathing him in, Lance starts to moan when his orgasm starts building up again, feeling himself grow slack and exhausted and Fernando lets out a sigh, feigning annoyance before he can feel his hands grab Lance's waist and finally help him fuck himself on him.

Lance keeps his face hidden, his hands going under Fernando's sweater and clawing at his skin to punish him further. Fernando then tilts his hips and slams him down roughly in retaliation.

Lance cries out, Fernando's hand knocking his own away as he gives his boyfriend a rough stroke and finally, finally is Lance able cum all over him.

"There you go, baby." Fernando says in a soft, sweet voice. "You look so pretty, Lance."

Lance feels exhausted, staying slumped on him trying to breathe properly again as Fernando rubs his back, kisses the top of his boyfriend’s head over and over again, strokes his hair and whispers the sweetest words to him.

Fernando hugs him to his chest, keeps him secured there until Lance is able to sit up, wincing at the friction with Fernando still inside of him.

"I'm going to pull out, alright, baby? Just give me a second."

Fernando easily lifts his boyfriend off of him, setting Lance down on his thighs seeing the mess of cum all over him. He easily reaches for the tissue box on the desk, cleaning himself thoroughly and tucking himself away before grabbing another and doing the same for Lance.

After helping Lance back into his clothes, Fernando cups his face in his hands and presses a slow, soft kiss to his lips.

"Are you alright, Lance? Talk to me. Tell me how you feel."

"I feel good, Nando. Don't worry."

He kisses Lance again, this time a bit more firmly before pulling away and murmuring, "I already told you before. I like worrying about you." Lance smiles tiredly at him, hugging him — needing the comfort of his arms.

Lance can hear Fernando fumble with his phone before a sound chimes signalling the end of the recording. Setting his phone back down, Fernando rubs his back again.

"Let's eat in a bit, alright?” Lance can only nod slowly, movements lethargic.

"Will you still kill him, Nano?"

Fernando laughs. “I’ll think about it.”

A few hours later the silence between them was bromen when Fernando shut his laptop with a click, standing from the chair in his makeshift office. He glanced over at Lance, who sat curled up on the couch, looking smaller than usual in the oversized hoodie he changed into — complaining about feeling icky in his other clothes. His eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, but he smiled faintly when Fernando held out a hand.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Fernando murmured. “Let’s go eat.”

Lance took his hand without hesitation, letting Fernando pull him to his feet. He leaned against him as they walked through the quiet apartment, their footsteps soft on the hardwood floor.

The house smelled faintly of coffee and books — the scent of late nights and quiet moments, a sanctuary that had become their secret world. Fernando grabbed the takeout bags from the kitchen counter, balancing them with one hand as he kept his other arm securely around Lance.

“Back to your room?” Fernando asked gently.

Lance nodded, his cheek resting briefly against Fernando’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

They made their way down the hall to Lance’s room, slipping inside and closing the door behind them. Fernando set the food on the desk, unpacking the food lance had bought earlier. They ate in comfortable silence, sitting side by side on the bed. Fernando passed Lance a water bottle, brushing his fingers over Lance’s hand as he did.

Lance leaned into him, the weight of the day slipping away with every gentle touch. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this — the quiet, the closeness, the feeling of being cared for. “You’re too good to me,” Lance murmured, resting his head on Fernando’s shoulder.

"No, Lancito," Fernando pressed a kiss to his hair. “You deserve it.”

They sat there for a while, the room dimly lit by the bedside lamp. Eventually, Lance set his plate aside and curled into Fernando’s side, closing his eyes. “You’re falling asleep on me,” Fernando teased, running his fingers through Lance’s hair.

“Can’t help it,” Lance mumbled. “You make me comfortable.”

Fernando’s chest tightened at the words, a surge of protectiveness washing over him. He tilted Lance’s chin up, kissing him softly, lingering for a moment before pulling back.

“I should go,” Fernando whispered, his voice regretful.

Lance’s eyes fluttered open, sleepy and affectionate. “Stay.”

“I can’t, cariño. Your father might come home early.” Lance sighed but nodded. He sat up, watching as Fernando stood and grabbed his jacket.

At the door, Fernando turned back to him. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Okay.”

Fernando leaned down for one last kiss, lingering at the doorway. “Sweet dreams, Lancito.”

Lance smiled softly. “You too, Nano.” As the door clicked shut, Lance lay back on his bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin. The room felt a little emptier without Fernando, but his warmth lingered.

And for now, that was enough.

Lance woke to the soft hum of voices downstairs. The late morning sun streamed through his window, warming the blankets tangled around his legs. He blinked groggily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before glancing at his phone — no messages from Fernando yet, but that wasn’t what caught his attention.

It was the familiar deep laugh coming from the living room.

Lance’s heart skipped a beat. His dad was home.

Throwing the covers aside, he scrambled out of bed, barely stopping to slip on pants before dashing out of his room. His footsteps echoed in the hallway as he rushed down the stairs, the sound of his father’s voice growing clearer with each step.

When he reached the bottom, there he was — Lawrence, standing in the living room with a wide grin on his face, talking animatedly on the phone.

“Dad!” Lance’s voice was bright with excitement.

Lawrence turned, his eyes lighting up as he saw his son. “Lance!” He was quick to mute the phone, setting it aside as if the conversation meant nothing in comparison to his son.

Without hesitation, Lance ran across the room, throwing his arms around his father. The hug was tight, warm, and filled with all the unspoken things Lance hadn’t been able to say since Lawrence left on his business trip.

“I missed you,” Lance mumbled against his father’s shoulder. It was true, even though growing up made them drift apart, it was never enough to stop Lance from missing his favourite man in the world.

Lawrence chuckled, holding him close. “I missed you too, kid. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” Lance said quickly, pulling back to look at his dad. His heart ached with guilt at the lie — he hadn’t been good. He’d been sneaking around with Fernando, breaking promises, and keeping secrets. But in this moment, all he wanted was to feel like a kid again, safe in his father’s arms.

“You’ve grown,” Lawrence teased, ruffling Lance’s hair like he used to when Lance was little — like he still does despite the similarity in their height. “What are they feeding you at school?”

Lawrence beamed, the weight of the past few months lifting from his shoulders as he took in the view of his son. For the first time in a while, Lance felt a pang of guilt — he knew how much his dad loved him, how much he wanted to protect them. And yet, Lance was hiding one of the biggest parts of his life from him.

“So,” Lawrence said, his attention still fully on Lance, “what do you say we catch up over lunch? Just the two of us?”

Lance’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t expected this — hadn’t prepared for the possibility of being alone with his dad so soon after Fernando’s departure.

But he smiled, nodding quickly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Good.” Lawrence clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Go get ready, then. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Lance nodded again, his heart pounding as he made his way back upstairs. As he passed by his room, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Fernando:

Good morning, Lancito.

How did you sleep?

Lance stared at the message for a long moment before typing back a quick reply.

Lance:

Morning.

Dad’s home.

I’ll text you later.

The café they went to wasn’t far from home, a cozy little spot Lance remembered from when he was younger. His dad used to take him and Chloe there on weekends, and stepping inside now felt oddly nostalgic.

Lawrence chose a table near the window, and they sat in comfortable silence as they waited for their food. Lance sipped at his iced coffee, trying to keep his nerves in check. His father seemed relaxed, though, and that made Lance feel a little better.

“You’ve grown up a lot, you know,” Lawrence said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was warm, affectionate. “I’m proud of you.”

Lance looked up, surprised by the unexpected praise. “Thanks, Dad.”

Lawrence leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I know I’ve been away a lot lately. Business has been… complicated. But things are finally settling down.”

Lance nodded slowly, unsure where this was going.

“I’ve got good news,” Lawrence continued, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “We’re expanding the team — new facilities, new investments. And Aston Martin wants me to spend more time at the main building instead of overseas.”

Lance blinked. “Wait — you mean, you’ll be around more?”

“Exactly.” Lawrence smiled. “I’ll be home more often, working closer with the team. And I want you to be involved, too.”

Lance’s heart skipped a beat. “Involved? How?”

“More appearances at events, more behind-the-scenes work. You’ve always loved racing, and I'm trying to work some things out with buying Williams next season. We can build something together.”

Lance stared at his dad, a mixture of emotions swirling in his chest. He’d always wanted to spend more time with his father — to be closer to him. But now, with everything happening with Fernando, the idea of being under his dad’s watchful eye made him uneasy.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Lance admitted, setting his coffee down. “That sounds amazing.”

Lawrence chuckled. “It is. And it’s about time we did this, don’t you think?”

Lance nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Their food arrived then, giving Lance a moment to gather his thoughts. As he picked at his sandwich, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of his secret pressing down on him. His dad was offering him a chance to be closer, to be part of something important — and yet, Lance was hiding one of the biggest parts of his life.

“I know things haven’t been easy for you,” Lawrence said, breaking into his thoughts. “But you’ve handled everything with maturity. I’m proud of the man you’re becoming.”

Lance swallowed hard, his chest tight with emotion. “Thanks, Dad.”

Lawrence reached across the table, squeezing his son’s hand. “We’ve got a bright future ahead of us, Lance. I’m excited to see where it takes us.”

Lance nodded, his smile faltering only slightly. “Me too.”

But as they finished their meal and left the café, Lance couldn’t shake the feeling of dread settling in his stomach. His dad was home, everything was changing — and somehow, Lance had to figure out how to keep Fernando in his life without destroying everything his father had planned for them.

When Lance and Lawrence returned home, the house was peaceful, with a soft hum of life that Lance had missed while his dad was away. His heart felt lighter after their lunch, though a part of him was still weighed down by the growing complexity of his secret life with Fernando.

Lawrence gave his son a warm clap on the shoulder as they walked through the door. “Think about what we discussed today. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“I will, Dad,” Lance promised.

Lawrence gave a nod, satisfied, before heading to his office. As soon as he was out of sight, Lance sighed in relief, letting himself collapse onto the couch. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a group chat lighting up with messages.

Charles: Lance!!!!! Clubbing! Tonight! Don’t try to say no.

Esteban: Yea, we’re dragging you out if we have to.

Jessica: You’ve been MIA lately, Lance. Time to make up for it. xx

Zhou: Don’t worry guys! The club DOES play Beyoncé for anyone who wasn't sure.

Lance chuckled, shaking his head. His friends never let him get too lost in his thoughts for too long. He’d been avoiding them lately, wrapped up in his secret relationship with Fernando, but now he realized how much he missed them.

Lance: Fine. Where are we going?

The responses came instantly.

Charles: We’ll pick you up at 10.

Esteban: Dress nice. No excuses!!

Lance smiled at the screen, grateful for his friends. He shot a quick glance toward his dad’s office, making sure he wasn’t coming back out, before texting Fernando.

Lance: Going out with Cha and the others tonight. Don’t worry about me.

Fernando’s reply came quickly.

Fernando: Be careful, Lancito. I’m always worrying.

Lance’s heart gave a little flutter. He grinned at the message before heading upstairs to get ready.

At exactly 10 p.m., a car pulled up outside the Stroll house, and Lance slipped out quietly, his dad already aware of his plans. Charles was in the driver’s seat, with Esteban riding shotgun. Zhou and Jessica waved from the back, grinning at him.

“Finally!” Charles said as Lance slid into the car. “Thought we’d have to break in and kidnap you.”

Lance laughed. “Sorry. It’s been… a weird day.”

“Weird how?” Jessica asked, leaning over the seat to look at him.

Lance shrugged. “Family stuff.”

Esteban shot him a knowing look. “Well, whatever it is, forget about it tonight. We’re going to have fun.”

As Charles pulled away from the house, music blaring through the speakers, Lance felt a rush of excitement. For the first time in weeks, he was going out without worrying about anyone finding out his secret.

For now, he could just be Lance.

The night started harmlessly enough.

Lance had agreed to join Esteban, Charles, Jessica, and Zhou for a night out at one of the trendiest clubs in town. He hadn’t been out in ages, too preoccupied with balancing classes and… well, Fernando. His friends had teased him about it all week — how he was turning into a hermit, how he never had time for them anymore.

So, when Jessica texted him earlier that day, he couldn’t find a reason to say no.

The club was packed, the music thumping so loud Lance could feel it in his chest. The lights pulsed in time with the beat, casting neon colors over the crowd. For the first time in weeks, Lance felt like he could let loose. The drinks were flowing, and with each one, the tension in his shoulders eased.

Charles and Zhou were in high spirits, dancing with anyone who came near. Jessica was at the center of it all, laughing as Esteban twirled her around. Lance found himself smiling, grateful to be surrounded by familiar faces.

“Come on, Lance!” Charles shouted over the music, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the dance floor.

Lance went along, laughing as he stumbled into the crowd. He let himself get lost in the moment, moving to the music, the bass vibrating through his body.

But as the night wore on, the alcohol hit harder, and his mind began to wander.

Fernando.

No matter how hard he tried to focus on the music, on his friends, his thoughts kept drifting back to his professor. To the way Fernando had kissed him before he left his office that afternoon, slow and lingering, like he didn’t want to let him go. To the way Fernando always seemed to know exactly what Lance needed, whether it was a reassuring touch or a whispered word of encouragement.

Lance’s chest tightened. He missed him.

Before he realized what he was doing, he found himself sitting at the bar, phone in hand. His fingers hovered over Fernando’s contact.

He shouldn’t.

Fernando had told him to be careful. They needed to keep things discreet.

But Lance couldn’t help it. The drinks made him bold, made him reckless. He gave in, typing out a message.

Lance: Miss you, Nando. Wish you were here.

He barely waited for a response before calling.

Fernando picked up after the second ring. "Lance?"

"Nando!" Lance slurred, grinning. "I’m out with my friends. Este, Cha... uhm. Nando who are my other friends? Zhou, and Jess. You know them, right?"

Fernando chuckled softly. "Yes, sweetie. I know of them." He's well aware of who all his students are. "Are you drunk?"

"Maybe a little." Lance giggled, leaning his head on his hand. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

Fernando’s heart softened at the sound. "It’s late, Lancito. You should be heading home."

"But I want to tell you about my day!" Lance protested. "We had this crazy exam, and Cha, he's silly y'know, Nando? Uhm, well, Cha said I was acting distracted — and, well, I was, because I was thinking about you."

"Lance," Fernando sighed, a smile tugging at his lips. "Where are you?"

Lance glanced around the crowded club, squinting at a sign. "Uh… somewhere near downtown? I don’ really know, Cha's big brother drove us here."

Fernando shook his head, already grabbing his keys. "Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you."

Lance beamed. "Really?"

"Of course," Fernando said softly. "I’ve got you."

By the time Fernando arrived, Lance was standing outside the club with Charles and Esteban, swaying slightly on his feet.

"Your ride’s here," Charles teased, nudging Lance.

Lance lit up when he saw Fernando approaching. "Nando!"

Fernando caught him as he stumbled forward, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Let’s get you home."

As they walked to Fernando’s car, Lance leaned heavily against him, his voice soft. "I missed you."

Fernando pressed a kiss to Lance’s temple. "I missed you too."

Once they were in the car, Lance sighed contentedly, resting his head on Fernando’s shoulder. "I’m glad you came."

Fernando smiled, starting the engine. "I always will, Lancito. Always."

Fernando’s house was quiet, a comforting contrast to the chaos of the club. Lance stumbled through the front door, leaning on the smaller man for support, still giggling softly.

“Y'really didn’ have to come,” Lance murmured as they entered the living room, his voice quieter now.

Fernando smirked, closing the door behind them. “Yes, I did. I couldn’t leave you like that.”

Lance let out a content sigh as Fernando guided him toward the bedroom. The moment they crossed the threshold, Fernando began undressing him. Lance stood still, letting Fernando pull his shirt over his head before helping him out of his jeans.

"You take such good care of me," Lance whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

Fernando smiled, gently brushing a hand through Lance’s hair. "Someone has to."

Once Lance was down to his boxers, Fernando helped him into bed, tucking him under the covers with a care that made Lance’s chest ache. Fernando quickly undressed, his shirt and pants hitting the floor in a careless pile before he slid in beside him. The bed dipped as Fernando settled next to him, his arm instinctively wrapping around Lance's waist, pulling him close until there wasn’t an inch of space between them.

Lance sighed contentedly, resting his head on Fernando's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The sound was soothing, grounding him in the moment — in the warmth and safety of Fernando’s embrace.

“I love this,” Lance whispered, his voice quiet but filled with meaning.

Fernando kissed the top of his head, his lips lingering against Lance’s soft hair. “I do too.”

Lance shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Fernando. His sleepy, glassy eyes held an unusual vulnerability, the alcohol still lingering in his system loosening his tongue.

“No, I mean… Nando, I love you.”

The words hung in the air between them, soft but unmistakably clear.

Fernando froze, his heart skipping a beat. His mind raced as he processed what Lance had just said. It wasn’t something he had expected to hear — not yet, at least.

Lance’s smile wavered, a flicker of nervousness passing through his eyes. “Do you not—?”

Before Lance could finish, Fernando shook his head quickly, his expression softening as he reached up to cup Lance’s cheek. His thumb brushed over Lance’s cheekbone, a tender touch meant to reassure.

“No, no, Lance, it’s not that.” Fernando’s voice was low, full of emotion. He leaned up, capturing Lance’s lips in a kiss that was slow and meaningful, a silent promise conveyed through the press of their mouths.

The kiss deepened naturally, their movements slow and deliberate, savoring each moment. Lance melted into it, his fingers threading through Fernando’s hair, pulling him closer. Fernando’s hand slid from Lance’s cheek down to his waist, fingers tracing the curve of his hip before slipping under the blanket.

As their lips parted, Fernando gazed into Lance’s eyes, his own dark with affection and desire. “I love you too,” he murmured, brushing his nose against Lance’s before kissing him again, more insistently this time.

Lance moaned softly into Fernando’s mouth, his hands wandering over his shoulders and down his back, mapping the familiar planes of his body. His heart was racing, but it wasn’t from nerves — it was from the sheer thrill of hearing those words back.

Fernando rolled them over gently, his body pressing Lance into the mattress. Their kisses grew more heated, lips and tongues tangling as their hands roamed freely. Fernando’s fingers skimmed along Lance’s sides, tracing the muscles there, his touch lighting a fire beneath Lance’s skin.

Lance arched into him, craving more of that contact, his body responding eagerly to every touch. His hands wandered lower, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of Fernando’s boxers, pulling him even closer.

“Te quiero tanto,” Fernando whispered against Lance’s lips, his Spanish accent making the words sound like music.

Lance shivered at the sound, pulling Fernando down for another kiss. “I want you,” he whispered between kisses, his voice breathless and needy. “I want all of you.”

“You have me,” Fernando promised, his voice hoarse as he kissed his way down Lance’s jawline and along his neck, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin. “You’ve always had me.”

Lance grinned, his eyes fluttering shut as he nestled back into Fernando’s arms — lightheartedly shutting down any advances as he registered just how sleepy he was. "Good. Now I can sleep happy."

Fernando chuckled, holding him close — more than satisfied with ending his night like this. "Sweet dreams, Lancito."

And as Lance drifted off, Fernando knew he would never let go of this moment — or of the boy in his arms. Not without a fight.

Lance jolted awake, heart pounding as the sunlight streamed through the curtains. He sat up quickly, the covers slipping down his bare chest, and groaned when he realized his phone wasn’t on the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered, scrambling out of bed and searching frantically for it.

Fernando stirred beside him, his eyes fluttering open. “What’s wrong?”

“My phone’s dead,” Lance said, grabbing it from the floor where it had fallen. “And my dad was expecting me home last night.”

Fernando sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Calm down. We’ll get you home.”

Lance nodded, biting his lip as he plugged his phone in to charge for a moment. When it didn’t turn on immediately, he groaned in frustration. “I’m so fucked," and Fernando didn't bother to scold the boy.

The drive to Lance’s house was quiet, tension thick in the air. Fernando occasionally glanced at Lance, who was nervously tapping his fingers on his knee. As they pulled up in front of the Stroll mansion, Lance finally let out a shaky breath. “Thanks for driving me.”

Fernando reached out, squeezing Lance’s hand. “Anytime.”

Lance leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to Fernando’s lips. “I’ll see you later.”

“Text me,” Fernando said with a smile, watching as Lance opened the car door.

“I will,” Lance promised.

As soon as Fernando’s car pulled away, Lance took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He walked up the steps to his house, heart pounding. His key slipped in the lock, and he quietly stepped inside, hoping to sneak past without anyone noticing. No such luck.

The moment the door shut behind him, his father’s voice boomed from the living room. “Lance!” Lance froze, wincing at the sheer volume of Lawrence’s shout. His father stormed into view, his face red with fury.

“Where the hell were you?” Lawrence demanded, fists clenched. “I waited all night, and you didn’t bother to call!”

“I—” Lance opened his mouth to explain, but Lawrence cut him off.

“And what the fuck did I just see outside?” Lawrence’s eyes blazed with anger. “You kissed him. Your professor. Do you have any idea what kind of scandal this could cause? Have you forgotten who we are?”

Lance’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t realized his dad had seen. “It’s not—”

“Don’t you dare tell me it’s not what it looked like,” Lawrence snapped. “Because it damn well looked like you’re messing around with some man who could ruin your career before it’s even started. With a man who's career I could ruin if I decided to bring light of this.”

Lance’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, really?” Lawrence crossed his arms. “Then what is it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been sneaking around behind my fucking back.”

“It’s not your business who I’m with!” Lance shot back, frustration boiling over. “I’m an adult, Dad. You don’t get to control every part of my life.”

“You’re my freshly nineteen year old son,” Lawrence hissed. “And you’re making a damn fool of yourself.”

Lance took a step forward, meeting his father’s gaze. “I love him.” That stopped Lawrence in his tracks.

“You what?”

“I love him,” Lance repeated, voice steady. “And nothing you say is going to change that.”

"Jesus Christ, Lance." Lawrence stared at him for a long moment, chest heaving, before shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve completely lost your mind.”

“No, I haven’t,” Lance said firmly. “For the first time in my life, I know exactly what I want. And I’m not going to let you take it away from me.” Lawrence’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he took a step closer to Lance.

“You’re not going to let me take it away?” Lawrence’s voice was low and dangerous. “We’ll see about that.” Before Lance could react, Lawrence reached out and snatched his phone from his hand.

“Hey!” Lance protested, lunging for it, but his father stepped back.

“You’ve clearly proven you can’t be trusted.” Lawrence’s tone was cold as he slipped the phone into his pocket. “And I’m not about to sit by while you throw your future away for some fling with a grown ass man who should fucking know better.”

“It’s not a fling,” Lance argued, frustration boiling over. “I love him.”

“And I’m your father,” Lawrence snapped. “And as long as you live under my roof, you’ll do as I say.” Lawrence turned on his heel, grabbing Lance’s car keys from the hook by the door. “Your car privileges? Gone. Your phone? Gone. And as for school…” He pulled out his own phone, already dialing. “We’re fixing that right now.”

“Fixing?” Lance’s chest tightened with dread. “Dad, stop it, what are you talking about?”

Lawrence gave him a cold glance as the call connected. “Yes ma'am, yes it's Lawrence. I need to speak with Ms. Sally Kornbluth immediately. It’s urgent.”

“Dad, no!” Lance’s voice rose in panic.

Lawrence held up a hand to silence him. “Yes, of course i’ll hold.”

Lance took a step forward, desperation clawing at him. “You can’t do this.”

“Fucking watch me.”

The call reconnected, and Lawrence’s expression softened into polite professionalism, though his tone remained firm. “Good evening, Sally. I hope your day has started off better than mine. I'm calling regarding my son, Lance Stroll. I need to make some changes to his class schedule… Yes, that’s right. I’d like all his in-person classes switched to online immediately. He's found himself in quite the predicament and if he wants to graduate on time and with honours it'll only be possible if he begins learning from our home.” Lance’s stomach dropped as he watched his father’s plan unfold, powerless to stop it.

“Thank you,” Lawrence continued. “And I’d like his access to extracurricular activities suspended for the time being. Yes… Yes, That will be all. Thank you so much for your time, Sally.”

As he ended the call, Lawrence turned back to Lance, his expression unreadable. “You’re grounded. No car, no phone, and no more in-person distractions. You’ll focus on your studies from home.”

Lance’s fists clenched. “You’re trying to control my life.”

“I’m protecting you from yourself,” Lawrence said coldly. “Now, go to your room.”

Lance stared at him, anger and heartbreak swirling in his chest. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” Lawrence said, his voice softer but no less firm. “Now. Go.” With a final glare, Lance turned and stomped up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him. Lance fell backwards onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind spinning with frustration and helplessness. The silence in the house felt suffocating, broken only by the occasional creak of floorboards or the faint hum of distant traffic.

His phone? Gone. His car? Gone. His freedom? Completely taken from him.

The weight of Lawrence’s words replayed in his mind. “You’ll do as I say.” Lance clenched his fists. He hated how powerless he felt, trapped under his father’s control like he was a kid again. His chest ached with the desperate need to reach out to Fernando, to explain everything, to hear his voice — but there was nothing he could do.

He glanced at the window. No phone. No car. I’m stuck. He had thought about climbing out earlier, but Lawrence had been one step ahead. The window was now locked from the outside. Even if he managed to sneak out, his father had likely alerted the house staff.

The doorknob rattled, and Lance sat up abruptly as Lawrence stepped inside without knocking — just one of many priviliges he would come to realize Lawrence felt as though he no longer deserved. “Dinner’s ready,” Lawrence said curtly. “You’ll be eating with me.”

“I’m not hungry,” Lance muttered.

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Lance.” His father practically growled, "get up and come downstairs." Lance glared at his father but stood anyway, following him downstairs like a prisoner on a leash.

The dining room was painfully formal. The table stretched between them like a chasm, both of them sitting in tense silence as the kitchen staff set their plates down. Lawrence watched Lance carefully. “You’re not speaking to him anymore.”

Lance’s grip on his fork tightened. “You can’t control that.”

“I can, and I will.” Lawrence’s voice was cold. “I’ve spoken with the head of his department as well as with Ms. Kornbluth again. They’ve agreed to monitor your activity. Any attempt to contact him through university channels will be flagged and will result in him losing his job automatically.”

Lance’s heart sank. “You had no right—”

“I have every right,” Lawrence cut him off. “I’m not going to let you ruin your life for some—” He stopped, his lip curling. “Some pathetic affair.”

Lance slammed his fork down. “It’s not an affair! I love him.”

“That’s enough.” Lawrence’s voice was a low growl. “You don’t know what love is.”

Lance stood abruptly, his chair scraping back. “I know more than you ever will.”

Lawrence rose too, his towering figure intimidating as he loomed over Lance. “You will not defy me again.”

Lance’s chest heaved with emotion, but he held his ground. “I’m not a kid.”

“Then I expect you to start acting like a man,” Lawrence snapped. “And forget about him.”

Lance shook his head, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath. “I won’t.”

Lawrence’s expression twisted, his frustration boiling over. His shoulders sagged as he ran a hand through his hair, his composure slipping. He looked at his son — really looked at him — and something in his eyes softened with a hint of desperation.

“You are just a boy, Lance,” Lawrence whispered, his voice trembling. His eyes glistened, and he blinked rapidly, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. “You are my boy.”

Lance froze, the weight of his father’s words hanging heavy in the air.

Lawrence’s jaw clenched, and his voice broke slightly as he continued, “And that man… that man is closer to my age than yours. Don’t you see how wrong this is?”

Lance’s chest tightened, but he shook his head again, his heart pounding. “It’s not wrong. I’m not a kid, Dad. I know what I’m doing.”

Lawrence let out a bitter laugh, wiping a hand over his face. “You think you know what you’re doing? You have no idea, Lance.” His voice cracked, revealing the pain beneath his anger. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to protect you from people who would take advantage of you. People like him.”

“No one’s taking advantage of me,” Lance said quietly, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “I love him. And he loves me.”

Lawrence stared at his son, a tear slipping down his cheek. He quickly brushed it away, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“You think this is love?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “You’ve barely lived, Lance. You don’t know what love is. You don’t know what it means to build a life, to face the consequences of choices like this.”

“I know more than you think,” Lance said softly. “And I know that keeping me locked away isn’t going to change how I feel.”

Lawrence shook his head, pacing the room like a man trying to outrun his own thoughts. “You’re too young to make a decision like this. You don’t see the danger—”

“The only danger,” Lance interrupted, “is you tearing me away from the person I care about.”

Lawrence stopped pacing, his shoulders slumping in defeat. For a moment, he looked older, worn down by the weight of fatherhood and fear.

“I just… I don’t want to lose you,” Lawrence whispered.

“You’re not losing me,” Lance said softly. “But if you keep this up… you will.”

Lawrence’s gaze lingered on his son for a long moment before he turned away, retreating toward the door. His hand hovered over the doorknob, trembling.

“You’ll understand one day,” he said, voice low and filled with sorrow. “When you have a child of your own.”

With that, he walked out, leaving Lance standing alone, the echoes of their conversation hanging heavy in the air.

Hours passed, the house dark and still. Lance sat on his bed, staring at the dead phone his father had confiscated earlier. His mind drifted to Fernando — to the way his arms felt like home, the way his voice softened when he said Lance’s name, the way he made him feel seen. But now, Lance was alone. Trapped. Helpless. Cut off from the one person who made him feel alive.

He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His chest ached with longing, and anger simmered beneath the surface, but what could he do? His father had locked him in a cage, and all he could do was wait. A quiet knock on the bedroom door broke the silence, followed by the soft creak of it opening. Lance sat up, surprised to see his sister, Chloe, standing there, one hand resting on her belly.

“Chlo?” Lance blinked in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

Chloe gave him a tired smile as she stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her. “I heard what happened. Mom called me.”

[iamespecter]

I LOVE that FNAF SB art you did with Vanny, Monty, and Roxy capturing Chica!

Please please tell me where I can read your Glamrock Chica analysis! I'm a long-time FNAF fan and I LOOOOOVE hearing people's analyses and theories! 🤩

The connections people make amaze me all the time and I love when someone connects some dots and is tapping the paper going "See?! Look at these! Isn't that odd?!" and I'm on the edge of my seat going "OMG that is so odd! Please tell me more my brainy friend!"

Thanks!! Tbh, I wanna remake these again sometime because these were made back in 2023 and I wanna see how far my skills have gone now lol

Also I would LOVE to give you the link to my Glamrock Chica analysis, but that's on twitter.... and the thought of going back to twitter..... /neg

So instead I will put the google docs version here! Btw, this analysis was done way before Ruin (specifically, this was back in 2022), which means there could be some outdated information in it.

Also, I don't trust word by mouth, and by extension, Ruin. With Scott's history of retconning, and the very obvious lack of regard towards Chica.... yeah. This means this is an analysis that only applies to Security Breach entirely.

WARNING FOR LONG READ!

So, about Chica.

It's been thrown around that she barely has any personality to go with based on in-game when I digress about that fact. I've actually been studying Chica's movements to the best I can, casually looking up every canon footage on yt and going to the wiki for recorded audio proofs. The only thing I wish is that people would dig up a datamine about each animatronic animations so I can see them in clearer light.

But setting aside that for now, let's talk about something Chica audio-related.

So I've been thinking. Chica's speech pattern is definitely peculiar, especially if you compare it to the rest of the Glamrocks. Her speech is definitely reminiscent of that a pre-programmed voiceline, and perhaps, it is at some point. However, going further than that even, what makes Chica stand out amongst the rest is one thing: Her calling out for GREGORY BY NAME.

Freddy knowing Gregory's name is obvious, Gregory introduced himself to him. But why does Chica know, when Gregory has never talked, nor introduced himself to Chica once?

Is it the Fazwatch? Yes, but indirectly.

Did she overhear it? Impossible, her green room is the farthest away from Freddy.

My answer: Vanessa. Or more accurately, Vanny. She knows Gregory's name because of the Fazwatch.

But this.... this doesn't make sense! If Chica says it, how come Roxy and Monty don't? They never call Gregory by his name, not even once! I truly believe that they DON'T KNOW GREGORY'S NAME. You can argue that perhaps, it's just their method of speaking. i.e, "kid" and "little guy", and it's a bit that but I really think otherwise.

Why? it's because they're not under influence like Chica is. More on that later. (elaborated further on "About Roxy and Monty.... and why Chica is odder in terms of hunting methods than the two.")

Something I wanna bring to the table as well: Chica may be selectively mute. Or to be more precise, is going through traumatic mutism.

I've talked about this a bit with my friends on discord, this is something that I've found. We know for a fact that Chica's voice is pretty damn powerful. Enough to make Freddy's voice more gravelly than it is, and to produce high frequencies that disable voice-activated locks. A blessing for players, but a curse for the chicken.

Therefore, what if Chica doesn't want to speak at all outside of the hack?

Some evidences to back this up:

The biggest clue of them all, The duffelbags.

A report about her upgrade shows that her experimental voicebox caused impairment to bot navigations, and a lot of chaos + lawsuits from party attenders. This voicebox was never replaced despite advisement saying (which makes me wonder what the hell happened to her old voicebox-), so I think Glamrock Chica developed a fear of raising her tone, or speaking entirely.

(- MAINT LOG: CHICA - Don't let her sing! Messes with the navigation of the other bots. Horrible results when she sang during live performance. S.T.A.F.F. bots dropping serving trays, chaos, guest injuries, 12 lawsuits. Experimental voice box test failed. Replacement advised. -)

The vents scene. Out of everyone, Glamrock Chica NEVER spoke in the vents section.

We never hear a sound from her, not even a squeak, a grunt, a sigh or a sound of acknowledgement. She just... plays her guitar. We hear Monty raging in his room, Roxy complementing herself, And Freddy, well, being Freddy. In fact, we never get to hear ANYTHING from her verbal-wise, that is until she begins chasing down Gregory. You know, when she's already hacked.

Staying around Chica's vicinity.

After a round or two of her voicelines, Chica starts sobbing. What's weird is that this "crying" is almost silent. Like, she doesn't wanna allow anyone to hear it. She's holding it back but at the same time, she just can't. Here's a yt video that a poster explains how they got this line: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cK7cQphVgZw

Lastly, her voiceline's tone.

She speaks in a sing-song manner, yet sometimes it sounds almost like a whisper. Reminiscent of Vanny's tone as well. What does help back this last evidence is the fact that Freddy has a scrapped voiceline in the Burntrap fight with the SAME DAMN SING-SONG TONE.

Also, can we please talk about Chica's behavioral pattern?

Not enough people point this out, but like damn. Does she look SO uninterested when chasing you down. Her shoulders are slumped, she's tilting her head lazily, and she slowly jogs towards you. Not to mention, that when she spawns behind you and when she's idle/stops in her patrol route to look around, she will momentarily stop to twitch, making various clicking servos noises as if the programming is glitching back and forth... or she's actively being hacked.

And what's up with her green room while we're on the topic of her behavior?

An easy answer would be that she's of course, a starter antagonist. An enemy designed to introduce you to the game's mechanics, a base foe that's a little bit easier to evade and/or fight than others. (they kinda failed lol)

However, a lore-wise answer would be that she's being forced against her will to do so. She doesn't wanna chase down Gregory and hurt him, but unfortunately Vanny's overriding her programming completely, so she can't do anything but watch as her body does the hunting for her.

Aside from that, I think the glitching out must be a result of Chica's original programming (unsuccessfully) trying to fight off the control, hence the momentary idle when she spawns in after being alerted unlike the two who immediately rushes in to attack.

Most people in the fandom believe that Chica's glitch and twitchiness comes from the fact that her insides are being messed up by her eating trash.

I can see where they're coming from, but I kind of... don't believe this? Mostly because one, Fazbear Entertainment is absolutely aware of Chica's habit to eat, therefore this "eating" thing was never intended to be a glitch but rather a feature (I'm definitely certain it's to promote their food since that's the most obvious answer), which means she definitely has a pouch for the food she eats somewhere in her torso. And two, she throws up the trash she eats (if you watch her closely in the cameras), so it doesn't stay there long enough to mess with her insides.

Chica's mannerisms of eating trash is definitely a result of stress eating, though.

Oh, and before I forget, what about Chica's Green Room? Why is it that compared to others, hers is the messiest (excluding the damage Monty did to his, of course) ? I'm talking pizza boxes scattered everywhere on the floor, desserts, trashbags and junk food all around, like a depression room, almost. My friend Nexus once again, assumes this to be because Chica is programmed to have ADHD to be "relatable", and this much I believe.

Chica is shown in the intro to do "dino arms". Dino/T-Rex arms are a common symptom for neurodivergency (and I tend to do this as well), often done subconsciously. Also, I think it's pretty funny considering Chica is a chicken, and chickens are said to be the closest relative to Dinosaurs.

Her being the easiest to lose once Gregory makes enough distance and goes around enough corners may also be something intentionally programmed into her. Neurodivergent people tend to lose track of things easily, and get distracted by something that piques their interest (something I relate way too well)

It's also possible that dancing may be a way to let extra energy loose for Chica. I think it's safe to assume that Chica can canonically dance, if Mazercise is taken into account for this. People with ADHD have too much energy in them should it be something they love to do, and they need an outlet for these kinds of things.

her "bawking" is possibly verbal stimming, as no other Glamrocks produce animalistic sounds like her when they are hit with the fazerblaster/flashed by the fazcam.

The difficulty of her maintaining her room as clean as the others could also be seen as part of her neurodivergent programming.

I can't help but see these evidences to be a part of a neurodivergent programming, possibly coded to be like this in favor of relatability. Knowing Fazbear Entertainment, coding one of their robots to have ADHD makes absolute sense if it meant raking in more money towards the teens.

Dumpster Diving: Trying to explain why Chica eats trash

Ah, yes. Stress eating. What seems to be a minor problem, but is quite prominent amongst people. Stress eating is a result of finding comfort in putting food in your mouth for temporary relief. Emotional eating is eating as a way to suppress or soothe negative emotions, such as stress, anger, fear, boredom, sadness and loneliness. Major life events or, more commonly, the hassles of daily life can trigger negative emotions that lead to emotional eating.

So, we know Chica is a compulsive eater. It seems that at every opportunity she can, she'd try to stuff her face with garbage. But why specifically garbage?

It's a literal take for "junk food", basically. Unhealthy foods are often called to be garbage food that provides temporary satisfaction, but can definitely mess you up in the long run depending on how much you eat. (thanks to my friend Nexus on this theory)

Her systems may have confused trash for pizza, however this may also be unlikely but I just wanna throw this out there.

This is an unhealthy coping mechanism. With the stress of losing Bonnie as her bandmate, and the addition of her body moving on it's own, I think she's trying to cope by eating the closest thing to food as kitchen supplies are kept away from her, which are leftovers thrown away.

About Roxy and Monty.... and why Chica is odder in terms of hunting methods than the two.

I'm definitely gonna be scrutinized by the community with this, but.... I don't think Roxy and Monty are under control. And I get it, a lot of y'all favor the others over Chica.

I just want you all to hear me out for a second, though. I've been doing my own fair share of researching the other two.

...Not as much as I did with Chica, but just enough to know that they're not hacked like she is.

it could be:

Monty is doing this hunting thing all on his own, full-stop. He didn't need to get Aftoned, since he and Vanny could have established a deal with each other. Vanny gets kids to gather remnant from, and Monty is promised the lead role. Something that we know he DESPERATELY WANTS, if you've seen the Monty Golf Arcade stage. (Which I think gives us something new to think about why Freddy isn't hacked in the first place)

Roxy is not hacked, but she's not doing this hunting thing out of free will either. I think she was peer pressured (or coerced even), manipulated to hunt down children for remnant experiments. She's pretty easy to break as seen by how she's immediately crying, convincing herself that she's not a loser, which implies Vanessa called her one when she went through the wolf's room. Perhaps she too, was promised an audience that would adore her if she did it successfully.

Chica is absolutely hacked. Aside from Moon, she's definitely under the influence of Afton/Vanny. She doesn't seem to be ego-driven like the two, therefore she drives a hard bargain. I believe she wasn't swayed with Vanny's manipulation, and this costed her her free will. A rather unfortunate trade.

It's really weird how people seem to dismiss the fact that Roxy and Monty walks and talks normally, chases Gregory like this hunt is all part of the gig, when Chica doesn't. Because I'm over here thinking that's a huge indication that, yeah, Chica might be hacked, and the other two aren't. (or at least, not to the extent that Chica is)

And about the scrapped possessed Freddy voicelines, too. I swear, Chica's voiceline tones and his match way too close for comfort, and I think that's the biggest clue for Chica being hacked yet.

I do think that Chica was also hacked with the intention of manipulating Gregory to trust and follow her like that one "nice" stranger, since she's basically like Freddy normally (if it's Roxy and Monty that's cool and ego-driven for audiences, then it'd make sense for Freddy and Chica to be the "Papa Bear" and "Mother Hen" to kids attending the pizzaplex). She definitely gives off bubbly girl vibes if we just... ignore Valley Chica and push her to the side.

I don't think I'll be making a Mazercise analysis because jesus christ Chica I love you but goddamn does your venue suck so much ass

Vanessa and Chica: Parallels between a bunny-costumed killer, and a guitarist animatronic performer

Now this is something I've never seen nor heard to be talked about with in the community other than my friend who's really good at observations and theories, and that's the parallel between the white woman jumpscare and the funny haha trash eater --and I'm not sure if that's because Chica is obscure compared to others, or not enough people like Chica to the point of theorizing about this.

Or I just live under a rock, that's all.

But, I think there's some lines to draw with Vanessa and Chica. How they're both under the influence of a higher being, reluctantly following. Taken over, even. A human and an psuedo-sentient AI, going through the same horrible thing.

Where one has submitted herself to the control, while the other is actively fighting back against it and refuses (although fails). Unfortunately there's not much to say here yet due to the fact that we don't have all the details just yet, but this is where the Ruin DLC kicks down my door and punches me square in the stomach then proceeds to spit on my face as I lay on the floor sobbing. (Future me saying yes it has done this to me but it made me go "WHAT THE FUCK MAN." in a /neg way)

I do hope that Steel Wool explores this concept even further, and maybe even a showdown between the two. That'd be pretty badass. Will an AI win against a force where a human couldn't?

Time will tell.

So, what's the summary for Chica?

I think it's really tragic that all this speculation gives out the idea that Chica is dealing with a lot of stress caused by keeping to herself, and even a depression state.

An experimental voicebox going haywire, causing trauma to her evolving psuedo-sentience code and refraining her from speaking most of the time. The start of an unhealthy food obsession as coping mechanism. And then after that, mourning the sudden loss of someone called a friend, coupled by a virus corrupting her systems, further strengthening the desire of emotional consumption. A robot programmed to be quirky and relatable, going through so much, and what makes this even worse is the fact that I don't think ANYONE in the Glamrocks ever know about what she's dealing with.

She only eats trash when she's alone and separated from the rest of the hunters, and weeps silently, keeping her sobs of grief to herself only. A kind-hearted figure, ruined by serial killer's doing. She cares SO MUCH as evidenced by the intro, yet the care she receives back is little to none.

A character thrown to the side all because her story isn't out there, like Freddy acting as a father-figure fill-in for a homeless orphan, Roxy with her low self-esteem hidden underneath a fragile sense of narcissism, or even Monty with his strong desire to be the one underneath the spotlight and willing to do whatever it takes just to make that come true. Hell, there's more Bonnie fans than Chica and the guy doesn't even make a single appearance.

Instead, she's disregarded by the community to be the bland one all because of misunderstandings and lack of evidences presented onto the table.

I think, out of all of them, she deserved her brutal fate THE LEAST if not at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading if you've reached this far! I believe I wrote this analysis with some passive aggressiveness because I was so frustrated that I could barely get my voice out to talk to the fandom about Chica, but I tried my best to make it more... polite lol

Hopefully, tumblr is nicer than twitter when it comes to theories.

Also, I actually wanted to make my own version of Chica's venue! Please someone ask me about it please please please please please Mazercise physically hurts me to the core

[sysig]

A lot of early concept stuff was expression/pose brainstorming - there’s the classic six Webkinz emotions (which, I learned have been largely pared down to just four after a point! Since they got rid of Dr. Quack’s role, there’s no more “sick” expression and most ‘Kinz’ tired and sad expressions are the same! >:0 What’s the point of having an easily editable puppet with the spaghetti code intact that you have to put an image there AnyWay and not make a slightly different expression!! H’f) as well as the main Sakura poses - so if I’m already making up expressions, why no go a little further! :D

One of the expressions I definitely needed up top was Mischievous - working with a cat, that’s the only logical conclusion really. I think it’s funny that she swerves the compliment only to pay it right back as well lol

The ticklish expression is one I’m still going back and forth on! I’m half tempted to have it be somewhere between happy and angry - maybe a mood gradient, starting out just positive and slowly moving into “Hey stop! >:0″ if it’s too many times in a row? It’s a thought haha

Similarly so, messing with her ears - bothering your pets is a very important element of socialization (lol)

As seen above, I’d reallyyy like to figure a way to have a dual-visual mood system - both the ‘Kinz body language/expression/emotion and a more exact stat bar. I’m still chewing on this idea a bit, no pun intended lol. That and click-and-drag with an actual image you can drag around your screen, hm and hm! Much to think about. Her face here turned out cute and funny haha, helped me push the expression more comedic

Much better :) Webkinz already has some well-known food dialogue, my favourite is probably “Mmm to the mmmax!” haha

Each low-mood would have their own emotion tied to it, but what about somewhere in the middle? I like the idea of the ‘Kinz getting bored if they’re left alone for too long! And little paw taps, showing off her embroidered paw pad haha ♪

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN gets a job as a bartender in a motorbike club's bar, and Harry runs the club.

author's note: suprise!! i'm back again!! i promised i wouldn't keep you waiting and i'm not. this is the first part in my biker!harry mini-series which i started a while ago and only just got around to finishing! let me know what you think and what you'd like to see in the next instalments!

word count: 11.6k of sexy biker!harry (that's it, that's all).

WARNINGS: strong language, smut, bike riding, a bar fight and talks of a motor accident.

let me know what you think of clover here!! mwah <3

1979

“Look, sweets, I’d hire you on the spot if I thought it would be a good idea,” Mick spoke from across the bar, towel over one shoulder and another in his hand drying a glass, “But it just isn’t, I’m sorry.”

YN sighed, dropping her hands down on the bar. This was the fourth one she’d tried, and so far, she hadn’t had any luck. She wasn’t asking for much – just a job to help pay for her student loans. She had graduated a year ago and bounced from job to job, and yet none of them seemed to fit. It wasn’t necessarily her dream to work in a bar, but she hadn’t a single clue about what her dream was. She had a first-class honours history degree (which she adored getting) and yet not a single idea of what to do with it.

She couldn’t think of the future at this moment, she needed to think about the now and if she wanted to continue to live in her small apartment and eat — she needed a job.

Clovers had been her last hope. It was the last bar in town that YN was yet to try, and despite its less-than-positive reputation – it was always busy, and that meant money coming in. As she turned to look around the bar, which was already quite crowded for it being early on a Friday night, she couldn’t help but imagine the cash that was funnelling through the establishment, and how she wished she could get at least some of it.

“Can I get you a drink, sweets?” Mick spoke again, offering her a soft smile, “It’ll hopefully soften the blow a little bit.”

YN smiled at the man and nodded, “Thank you. Whisky, please.”

Mick got straight to work, placing the glass in front of her, dropping an ice cube into the glass and pouring her a more than generous shot. Just as she fumbled with her purse to pull out some bills to pass to Mick, he shook his head and held his hand out to stop it. She smiled in thanks and watched as he turned and walked away, going to serve the next customer who was standing a few feet away from her.

YN picked up her drink, and just as she was about to take a drink the door beside her opened. Her lips parted, her eyes watching as a group of what seemed to be fifteen or so men, all clad in heavy leather or dark denim walked into the bar.

Of course, YN knew about them. Anyone who lived here knew who they were, but it was the first time that she had seen them this up close. The most she had ever experienced with them was the low rumbling of their engines from a distance, or possibly them riding past her but that was only ever one or two. It was their jackets that often set them apart from the rest of the riders in the town, the very specific Clover’s Riders jacket that every member adorned and what seemed like all times.

The men were loud as they stepped in, most of them heading towards the bar whilst others went to some of the other members who were already seated in the bar. YN’s eyes never left the door until the last one had made his entrance, and she just couldn’t seem to draw them away.

He was younger than many of his counterparts, probably resting at an age near YN’s or possibly a few years or so older. He was clad in the same heavy denim that many of the others wore, but they seemed to sit on his body much easier. The curls of his hair were tousled in every direction it seemed, but YN found herself wondering as to what it would feel like to run her fingers through it.

With a shake of her head, she turned back to her glass and lifted it to her lips. She took a large gulp of the liquid, allowing that to slip down her throat before she finished the rest of it. Mick was long gone from being anywhere near her, working at what seemed like double speed to keep up with the orders that the gang of men were giving him, and she felt as though that was probably her cue to leave. She would have to brainstorm other options for work, seeing as though this just hadn’t called through.

Sighing, YN pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder and pushed up from the stool she was resting on. Just as she turned around to make a beeline for the door through the bodies that were crowding the room, she was stopped by a body in front of hers.

“Woah, woah, little darling where do you think you’re going?” It was one of the riders, standing in front of her with a grin on his features.

“Home,” she said with a shrug.

“So soon,” The man looked over his shoulder to some of his friends who were standing close by, “Me and my buddies here didn’t even get to say hello.”

“Right, okay, hello,” YN nodded to the man in front of her and those behind him, “Really have to get going.”

The man extended his arms so that she couldn’t carry move from her space in front of him, “Let us buy you a drink little darling, I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“I’ve already had one, thank you, and it was very enjoyable,” YN offered them another small smile, “Now please move out of my way so that I can go home.”

“Hey, none of that,” The man shook his head, “Stay with us, I promise we’ll make it worth it.”

YN hummed, tilting her head from side to side lightly, “I’ll pass but I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone else to make the night worth it.”

And with that, YN pushed past the man and beelined for the door. She half expected him to grab her, but from the hoots and hollers of his friends, he was too embarrassed to do anything else.

The bar that YN had worked out whilst she was completing her degree had taught her a thing or two about how to deal with rowdy men, and whilst the firm but clear approach worked in most cases, YN wasn’t afraid to resort to other means if necessary. It was all a respect thing, and more often than not if you deal back to them what they deal to you – the situation usually sorts itself.

YN had just rested her palm against the wood of the door when she heard someone call her name. She saw Mick standing there, leaning over the bar to catch her attention.

“Saw you deal with those guys,” He nodded his head over to the men whose attention had been taken by another woman in the bar, who seemed to accept their advances more than YN did, “When can you start?”

YN’s face broke out into a smile and took a delighted step towards Mick, “Whenever.”

“Right now?” He raised his eyebrows at her, motioning to the men who were calling his name for more drinks, “Have a feeling we’re going to be swamped tonight.”

YN nodded and immediately dropped her purse down behind the bar and rolled the sleeves of her cardigan up.

She turned to the men who were now staring at her with their mouths slightly agape, “What can I get you?”

It was a Thursday night and YN had been working at Clover’s for around a week at this point when Mick decided that she could handle a night on her own. After being thrown into what very much was the deep end on her first shift, there had been time the next day for Mick to show her the ropes properly and anything she would specifically need to know.

Mick said that he normally wouldn’t leave such a new person on their own so quickly, but he had an important family issue that he couldn’t get out of and that she had shown enough trust that he wasn’t worried. It was a Thursday, so it wasn’t going to be too busy but even so, those who were going to be there would be Riders, and they would protect their bar from anything.

It was nearing nine, and YN would probably say that they were at a quarter of their capacity, the majority of them being riders who had been there for the last few hours or so. YN was lucky she supposed. They never ordered anything more complicated than a beer, at most a whisky or a bourbon and this was their bar so there were never any arguments about paying for the drinks.

There was a lull in the orders, so YN decided to take it upon herself to dry some of the glasses she had washed in the previous lull. This job was not for the weak she would say that, but YN would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it. She loved people watching and mixed with the hum of the jukebox it was the perfect combination for her.

The door to the bar opened again about twenty minutes, and in walked that same man that caught her attention a week or so ago, on that first day she was here. He looked the same, apart from he was clad in a mixture of denim and leather this time instead of just denim, and a large bruise was sprouting from under his left eye. To YN, it was obvious that the cause was a punch, for there was nothing else that could cause a bruise such as that one. He walked into the room, ignored the hoots and hollers from some of the other men and took a seat right in the middle of the bar.

YN threw the towel she was holding over her shoulder and walked towards him, resting her hands on the edge of the bar, “What can I get ya?”

The man didn’t stray his eyes away from where they were planted firmly on the wood of the bar, “Beer, and a whisky.”

YN nodded, reaching over to pop the lid of the beer, “Do you want ice in the whisky?”

The man just hummed, so YN got straight to work making his drink for him. It was different to that of the other men in the bar — watching him. Whilst they were loud and rowdy and always had something to say to someone – he was silent. He just sat, with the company of his only himself and drank his drink.

Snapping YN out of her gaze (which had been on the man for a few beats too long) was a call of her name from just down the bar. She walked over to where it came from, a man called Taylor who YN had become quite acquainted with in the last few days or so.

Most of the men (not all, obviously) that she had become acquainted with during the last few weeks were lovely. They loved to have a quick natter with her whilst she made their drinks, some of them flirted with her but she didn’t care (it was part of the job) and nobody bothered her. If one or two of the men when they were drunk got a little handsy or started to say things which would be deemed inappropriate, the other lads would circle her and make sure she was okay. She felt safe, which she was quite surprised was the case.

“A piece of advice,” Taylor spoke over the bar as YN started opening the bottles of beer for him and his friends, “Harry over there always orders the same thing, and he’ll drink the whiskey last before he leaves.”

“Thank you,” YN nods with a small smile across her lips, unable to stop her eyes beating over to him for a second – Harry.

“He’s a quiet one,” Taylor continues speaking, grabbing a few bills out of his pocket to pay for the drinks, “But harmless, I promise. To be fair, you’d think the man who founded the club would have more to say.”

YN’s eyes widen, she had no idea that Harry was the one who founded the club. She hadn’t suspected it at all.

“He founded it?” She asked with a slight raise of her eyebrow. She wasn’t trying to pry, but there were things that she wanted to know, and Taylor already had that buzz that made her know that he would be willing to answer any questions she had.

“Yeah, it was him and a few others,” Taylor shrugged, attempting to pick up the three bottles of beer all in one go, “A few years ago now, and it only grew from there.”

YN nodded once more and watched as he walked back to his table. She put the bills that he had given her for the drinks into the register and put the tip she had been given into her apron.

There was something about that man that had caught her attention from that first day, and yet she couldn’t put her finger on it. Now, it made sense. The aura that he had when he walked into the room, as well as the way he sat and held himself – he had a strong presence in the group without even trying.

YN had more questions, but she knew it probably wasn’t the best to pry right now. Instead, she just got on with everything that she had to do. She served drinks and cleaned up after herself right up until close. YN hadn’t realised when Harry had left, but he had slipped out without a single person realising.

She hummed as she swept the floors, tried her hardest to count the cash right the first time and put it in the safe before continuing with her other closing jobs. The chairs were off the floor, as much of the stickiness in the room that YN could remove was gone and the doors were locked and checked.  

Once she had stepped outside, and locked the door to the bar behind her, the late hour catching up with her very quickly – she realised at that point she wasn’t alone.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw that he was standing there, resting against his motorcycle with a cigarette dangling from between his lips. YN was confused but continued to lock the door and make sure that nobody could get inside. Then she turned, and that was when she saw Harry looking directly at her.

“Can I help you?” She muttered, fidgeting with the keys she was holding in her hand.

He inhaled the smoke from his cigarette, holding it for a second or so before he exhaled, “Heard you were asking questions.”

YN’s heart drops slightly, heat pulsating around her body, “Am I not allowed to ask questions?”

He ran his teeth over his bottom lip, placing the cigarette back in his mouth, “Can’t stop you from doing that, but any questions you have about me, you can ask me yourself.”

YN just pursed her lips and nodded, “Okay then… do you always stalk women when they’re leaving work?”

Harry didn’t seem shocked by her words, or react in any way to them at all, which was surprising to her. But, then again, she hadn’t seen much of a reaction out of this man this entire time she had known of him.

“Only the ones that have worked in my bar for a week.”

“Your bar?” YN widened her eyes, “Thought Mick owned it?”

Harry shook his head, “I do. Mick’s my employee, and so are you.”

“Do you not trust me or something? Think I’m walking away with pocketfuls of cash?”

“I would already know if you’d done that, and you wouldn’t be working here anymore,” YN just nodded, “But this side of a town can be sketchy at night, and you never know who could be lurking.”

YN just scoffed, turning to walk away from the man, “Thank you, but I can look after myself.”

“Suit yourself,” Harry shrugged, climbing onto his bike, and kicking the stand-up. YN could hear the engine turning on, the loud rumble filling the empty street.

YN continued walking, expecting him to speed past her but he didn’t. The low rumble continued down the street, even when she turned – the sound turned too. It was frustrating and annoying. All YN wanted to do was to get home, have something to eat and get in bed. Instead, she was having to deal with what was becoming an annoying rider, who couldn’t seem to leave her alone.

This continued for around ten minutes, and with each second that passed YN was getting more and more annoyed. Just as she turned onto the edge of her street, the apartment she shared with her roommate Ashley coming into view in the distance, she decided that enough was enough.

She stopped and turned around on the pavement, Harry pulling in on his bike to stop just in front of her. YN sighed and placed her hand on her hips.

“Do we have a problem?”

Harry rested his hands on his bike still, but was facing her, “No problem.”

“Then why are you following me home?” A small chuckle escaped her lips, “You know those strange people you were talking about earlier; you do know you’re acting like one of them?”

“You’re one of us now,” He shrugs, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world – it certainly wasn’t for YN at all.

“That means you follow me home?” The confusion grows with every moment in YN, and yet Harry doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried.

“You didn’t want a ride,” He pulls his carton of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up, “Had to make sure you got home safe.”

“Right,” YN just nods, “Well, I think I can manage on my own from here. And, if I’m all of a sudden one of you should I expect my jacket in the post? Or do you do collection?”

With a final scoff, she turned and walked away from the man. This time, when the engine started, YN didn’t turn to look at Harry and instead carried on to her front door. It was only then that she turned to peer over her shoulder, just in time to see Harry speed past her and into the night.

She had an incline that this job was going to be interesting, but she had no idea just how much.

It wasn’t necessarily a normal working pattern that YN had found herself in.

Sleeping for most of the day and being awake all night wasn’t necessarily the big girl working pattern that she had aspired to when she was younger, but for the time being she was enjoying it. It did mean that when Ashley returned from her nine-to-five working as a receptionist (YN couldn’t think of anything worse to be honest), YN was just getting ready to start her day.

YN was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a half-eaten sandwich clutched tightly in her hand. She wasn’t too hungry, but she knew that if she didn’t eat something before, she left for work she would regret it later on. The second that Ashley stepped through the door and threw her bag down on the floor, she threw YN a quizzical look.

“What?” YN asked, wiping the mayo that rested on the curve of her lip off with her thumb.

“Do you happen to know anything about the smoking-hot rider staring at the apartment from across the street?”

YN’s entire face dropped, “What?”

Ashley walked over and dropped down on the other side of the sofa, reaching out to steal one of YN’s chips from her plate. Ashley seemed slightly unfazed by the newfound stalker YN had acquired, and that stressed the girl out significantly.

“What do you mean?” YN pushed herself up, making her way over to the window where there he was. Resting against his bike, cigarette resting from his lips sat Harry, staring at the front door to the building with an unreadable expression on his face,

“He’s been there since this morning,” Ashley adds to the conversation causally, running a hand through her hair which she had just pulled out of its undo, “At first, I thought he was waiting for Sandy, you know, from 2.B but then I saw the jacket and realised he must be here for you.”

“He’s not here for me,” YN shook her head, slapping the curtains shut and walking back over to her friend, “He’s stalking me, I can’t believe you’re not more stressed about this.”

Ashley just shrugged, “Worse people to be stalked by, I suppose. He’s one of Clover’s, he’ll be harmless.”

“No, Ashley, he’s not just one of Clover’s,” YN sighed, running a hand over her face before scooting around the apartment to grab her belongings, “He is Clover.”

It was Ashley’s face that dropped this time, “What do you mean?”

“That’s Harry,” YN pulled each one of her pumps on her feet, “He founded the gang!”

“You’re kidding,” Ashley all but screams, “Jesus YN, I knew I was concerned about this job, but I think you’ve done pretty alright for yourself.”

YN just shook her head. She grabbed her jacket, and her bag and made her way over to the door.

“If I go missing, you know who’s responsible,” With that, YN turned away from her friend and rushed out of the door.

She took the stairs down from her apartment at double speed, almost tripping over her feet multiple times. She pulled her jacket on just as she got to the front door. Just before she was going to push it open, just stopped and hesitated for a second. One deep breath in and out was all it took to compose herself, and then she pushed the door open.

Harry spotted her immediately, throwing the cigarette he had in his hand a few metres away from his bike, where a collection was beginning to grow. YN made sure to check the left and the right of her before crossing the road, not quite fancying becoming roadkill this early in the day.

“You’re lucky my neighbours didn’t call the cops on you,” Is the first thing that slips from YN’s lips, before she realises how stupid that sounds.

For the first time since she met him, a small smile crosses Harry’s lips. She had amused him, and oh did she want to do it again.

“You know you can’t stay out here all day,” She follows with, “I’m going to the bar now anyway.”

“I got something for you,” Harry pushed himself up off the bike and that’s when she saw it.

A denim jacket, smaller than the others that she had seen but still carrying the ever-so-known Clover’s Riders logo on the back. That four-leaf clover was known all over town, and towns for miles in every direction and now it seemed YN had one of her own. It would open paths for her but also close them as well. She knew that the second she accepted that jacket, things would change all over again.

“I don’t even ride, Harry,” She sighed, shaking her head slightly, “I’ve never been on a bike in my life.”

He just shrugged once more, “There’s always time to change that.”

YN toyed up her options, and it took a lot less time than she had thought it would to swipe the jacket from his hands. She shrugged off the one she was wearing and slipped her arms inside the material. It was the perfect fit, exactly what she would have chosen for herself. Harry beamed another smile at her and swung his leg over his bike once more.

“C’mon,” He tilted his head at her, “I have something I want to show you.”

“I’ll be late for work,” YN shook her head, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from throwing her leg over the side of the bike and using Harry’s shoulder to help steady herself as she got on.

“You’ll be fine,” Harry spoke, and that’s when YN realised that whilst yes, she was probably going to be late for work, she was also on the back of the owner’s bike – so the trouble couldn’t be too grave, “Hold on tight.”

YN did as the man said, wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist. The second that the engine started, and Harry kicked the stand-up they went flying down the road, and she realised in that exact moment why he said tight. YN’s body lurched forward into Harry’s, her cheek resting against the leather of his jacket, and her hands tightening around him.

Once the initial fear had worn off, and YN finally peered over the man’s shoulder – she would be lying if she said that it didn’t feel in a word freeing. The wind through her hair, the chill of the speed at which she was going laced with the feeling of Harry pressed so closely against her. Sure, she had been scared but now she knew that there wasn’t anything to be scared of. It wasn’t a scary thing, instead, it was something to be enjoyed.

YN’s lips curled upwards, a slight giggle leaving them as she noticed they went speeding through a red light. Many, and by many YN meant most, of the riders had a back pocket full of speeding tickets, and lights that they’ve jumped and yet none of them seemed to care. It was as though all of the law-abiding parts of their brains didn’t function when they were on bikes. On second thought, even when they weren’t on the bikes the law-abiding parts of their brain didn’t function.

Harry pulled over just as they joined the road which took them out of the city. They had completely passed Clover’s, and YN hadn’t the faintest clue of how late she was for work at this point, but it didn’t matter. It would take a lot for this smile to leave her face today. Once the bike came to a stop, YN used Harry’s shoulder to push up off of it.

Harry sits on the bike, but his eyes never leave the girl. The way she almost looked like a baby deer as she got her grounding once she was off the bike, the way her hair stuck out in every and all directions, and most importantly the beaming smile that never left her face. For the first time in a long time, there were no thoughts in YN’s head. There were no worries about growing up and getting a proper job, or stress about money – it was completely and utterly freeing. She supposed that was why there were so many of the riders and she supposed they were all chasing that feeling.

“You’ve got to teach me how to ride,” She sighed, the blissful smile never leaving her lips.

Harry just nodded, “Whenever you want.”

“Really?” Her face widened in excitement.

Harry shrugged, “You’ve gotta know how to ride if you’re going to be a rider.”

YN just nodded, and almost jumped back onto the bike. Harry didn’t say anything when she wrapped her arms back around his waist, not a single gap between their bodies but it just felt so comfortable. Harry kicked the stand down once more and sprang straight into action, turning slowly around on the road before speeding up the second they were on the straight back to the town.

All YN knew was that she was going to savour the feeling of the wind in her hair.

It was another Saturday night, and it was packed in the bar.

YN was so thankful that she could stay behind the safety of the actual bar and not venture out into the rest of the room. The men had just come back from a ride, and they were all excited and loud and wanting nothing but drink upon drink upon drink. She had been there from earlier on in the day today, and when Mick showed up later in the evening, she hadn’t managed to utter a single word but hello to him since.

All she could think of was the fact that once the rush had died down, it would be her time to go home and rest. In what felt like a very long few months of working every day (at first YN hadn’t minded, but she was slowly getting more and more burnt out) it was finally time for her to have a day off. Mick had graciously said to her the other day that he could handle Sunday on his own, and those words felt like gold slipping from his lips. She didn’t have a single clue of what she was going to do with her day, all she knew was that it was going to be relaxing.

She just had to get through this night first.

At first, the night seemed fine. Everyone was in good spirits and there was nothing more than a few drunken disagreements that sorted themselves out. YN had taken that as the opportunity to make her way over to where Harry was sitting and replenish his beer while he was there. It was then that the door was thrown open, and the entire atmosphere in the room changed.

What had at first been a lovely evening had changed within the second, and it was all because of a man that she hadn’t recognised. He didn’t have a rider’s jacket on his back, and that should have been YN’s first clue that this man was going to be in trouble. This was a riders’ bar, and those jackets were almost like a rite of passage. Without one, people stuck out like a sore thumb.

It became even more obvious to YN when the man beelined straight over to where Harry was sitting. He didn’t sit and instead leant over Harry, so his focus was on him. YN stayed close, but she didn’t want to make it too obvious that she was listening. She wasn’t the only one either – she could see other riders peering over at them from where they were sitting.

“You said if I did it, I’d get my jacket,” Those were the first words that came out of the man’s mouth – not even a greeting of hello, “I did it. Where’s the fucking jacket?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a second or so. Instead, he lifted his recently replenished beer to his lips and took a swag. He was doing as he always did – taking his sweet darn time.

“I said I’d think about it,” Harry mumbles, shrugging slightly as he did, “I’ve thought about it… and no.”

The man smacks his hand down onto the bar top, the sound echoing throughout the room. It silenced everyone, and all eyes turned to the two men. YN’s eyes looked towards Mick with a panicked expression on them but he shook his head, hoping that would calm the girls down.

“That wasn’t the fucking deal,” The man spits, coming right up into Harry’s face but it didn’t seem to deter the man at all, “The deal was to drop the shipment, I get the fucking jacket.”

Harry finally turned to look at the man, his stern expression never wavering, “Do you think I want someone like you, someone that doesn’t listen wearing one of my jackets?”

The man didn’t like that response, and it seemed as though as quickly as YN could blink her eyes the man was grasping the lapels of Harry’s jacket and pulling him up from the stool. He was then pushed straight into the bar, a slight grunt leaving his lips as he did. There was the initial sound of beer stools scratching on the floor, and other Riders were reading to split the two men up but all it took was Harry lifting one of his hands and they all stopped in their places.

“I don’t want someone who’s that willing to fight one of his men wearing a jacket.”

That was all it took for the other man to make the first punch. His arm pulled backwards, and his fist hit Harry straight across the jaw. The skin immediately went red, but Harry didn’t look like a man who had just been hit straight across the jaw. The bar stayed silent, obviously waiting for whatever Harry’s retaliation was going to be.

What YN, and certainly a lot of others in the bar hadn’t expected was Harry to reach behind him, to where his empty beer bottle was sat and hit the man over the head with it. The man fell to the ground, his grip on Harry letting go instantly. Harry lifted his hand, wincing when he noticed that a shard of glass from the broken bottle had lodged itself in his skin.

He just sighed, rubbing his forehead with his uninjured hand, “Get him out of here.”

Three of the men who were watching closely immediately listened to him, walking over, and picking the man up. They carried him out of the bar and were back to their drinks in what seemed like minutes. It was as though nobody truly seemed to care as to what had just happened and were more excited to get back to their drinks truly as though nothing had happened.

YN watched as Harry threw back the glass of whisky that had sat on the bar waiting for him (courtesy of Mick). That seemed like something that YN would have to take note of. With that, he dropped a few bills on the counter and stormed out of the bar. YN watched this and immediately started to pull her apron off her body.

“Mick,” The older man hummed from the other side of the bar, “I’m going outside for a break. I’ll only be a minute.”

The older man just threw YN a look, obviously having spotted who had left the bar just before she wanted to, “Be careful.”

YN just laughed, throwing the latch open, “I’m always careful.”

The second she stepped outside; she was shocked to see that Harry’s bike was still there, but he wasn’t sitting on it. There was a slight chill in the night air, and YN looked from left to right to try and spot him, but he was still nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until YN made her way towards the alley that followed the side of the bar that she finally realised where he had gone.

It was dark, but not dark enough to miss the figure leaning against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips. YN wrapped her arms around herself, wanting to conceal at least some of the warmth from inside. As her shoes crunched on the path, Harry’s eyes turned to look at her. He was ready for it to be someone else, and it was almost as though when he noticed that it was her – his features seemed to relax.

“How’s your hand?” She asked, coming to a stop right in front of him.

He raised his palm towards her, “It’s been better.”

YN winced to herself slightly as she looked at his hand, seeing the shard of glass still sticking out of the skin. Whilst she didn’t have a first aid kit on her body at this exact moment, it was good that she knew where one was.

“Come with me,” She nodded, walking further down the alley to the bar’s back entrance.

YN didn’t even turn to make sure that he was following her, she just knew that he would be. She held the door open for him, and the one that opened to the office of the bar (where Mick spent most of his time during the day, sorting the books out) and pointed at the chair by the desk.

Whilst Harry sat down without a word to her, YN reached up to the shelf above them and brought the first aid kit down. Harry’s eyes watched her as she pulled tweezer, gauze, and some antiseptic to clean and dress his wound. It was all very silent, and still but caring.

“Can I?” She asked, checking sure it was okay to touch his hand.

Harry nodded, placing his hand in hers. To YN, she wasn’t sure if she was truly touch-starved that feeling of his hand in hers felt truly intimate. She got to work straight away, pulling the glass out with the tweezers ever so carefully before wiping the surface of the cut. Even though YN knew that it would have stung, Harry’s face didn’t show anything, only one raised an eyebrow slightly.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” She mumbles, face still full of concentration on making sure the wound is fully clean before she wraps it.

Harry just nodded, “You see wounds like these before?”

YN nodded, “I’ve worked in bars before – of course, I’ve seen wounds like these before.”

Harry just nods, allowing YN to move his hand at her ease to ensure that it is wrapped tightly and securely. He opened his mouth once she had finished, as though he was going to ask her something, but he closed it straight away. She wanted nothing more than to tell him that he could ask her anything that he wanted to, but she didn’t want to scare him away.

“You’re all set,” She offered him a small smile.

“Thank you,” The words sort of felt foreign, but very sincere coming from his lips, “I… you didn’t have to.”

YN just shrugged, “Wasn’t going to let you bleed out – would’ve been bad for business.”

Harry offered her a small smile at her attempt at a joke, “I’m sorry about what happened in there as well… usually we try to keep those sorts of things out of the bar.”

“Harry,” His name came out of her lips softly, hoping that would be the thing to tell him that it was okay. That she wasn’t angry at him, “I know… it doesn’t bother me – I promise.”

He just nods, “I knew that, you know.”

YN furrows her eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“That first day,” He reached out to her, and did the last thing that she would ever expect – grabbed her hand, “The way you dealt with some of the lads… I knew you were different.”

“It was you…” The words slipped out of YN’s mouth before she could truly register them, “You saw me that day.”

It all made sense. YN had noticed Harry that very first day that she’d appeared at Clover, and whilst originally Mick had said no, he had changed his mind and said yes. To YN, it had looked and seemed that Mick was the one who had made that decision, and yet it made sense that it was Harry to be the one who changed Mick’s mind. Harry, if he had been sitting at his barstool would have been a metre or so away from that conversation – and he would have heard every word that had been said.

“I did,” Harry nods, claiming every thought that YN had to be true, “I saw you, the way you spoke to them, the way you stood your ground and god, YN, I was hooked.”

That was the first time that YN had heard Harry speak her name, and she was addicted. She wanted to hear it over, and over and over again. He noticed the slight shift in her and used his legs to roll the chair he was sitting on closer to where she was resting against the desk. Then he slipped his uninjured arm around her body and pulled her down to him. She straddled his knees, relishing the feeling of his body beneath hers.

“I…” Her words came out as a whisper, “I felt the same.”

Relief. That was the look on his face – it was a true relief.

“You did?”

“God, Harry,” YN giggles, shaking her head, “I tried not to, but I would be lying if I said that most of my thoughts haven’t been filled with you. Wanting to know more.”

“You can know anything,” His thumb slipped underneath the thin material of her shirt, a heat spreading across her entire body from that one single touch, “Ask me anything, everything – I’ll answer. Whatever you want to know?”

YN pondered that for a second. She could have asked him anything, and yet there was one thought which was present in her mind more than any of the others. An hour ago, this question would have been risky – she just wouldn’t have asked it. Yet, in the safety of this room – away from peering eyes, or anyone who could make assumptions as to what it meant – she wanted nothing more than to ask it.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Harry exhaled a breath, lifting his hand to rest against her cheek, “More than anything.”

YN nodded.

“Harry…” He hummed at the call of her name, “Kiss me.”

His thumb danced from her cheek, down to her lip. He ran it across the skin of her bottom lip, pushing down slightly so that her lips parted for him. The only sound in the room was YN’s heavy breathing, a response to the teasing that was on display right in front of her.

Then his face inched forward, and his lips were on hers. It didn’t take long for his tongue to slip past her parted lips, dancing with her own. This closeness to someone, the vulnerability – YN had missed it. She pushed her body forward towards Harry’s, slipping her hands in the curls at the nape of his neck. His hands, never mind the bandaged one which would have still caused him pain, rested upon her denim-clad arse. They found their home resting there, and YN wasn’t about to move them.

Harry pulled away from her lips, obviously needing oxygen as much as she did. But he wasted no time in dropping his attack down her neck, his teeth nipping the skin there. YN’s hands still rested in the curls at the nape of his neck, and heavy breaths parted from her lips.

“Harry,” She gasped as he started to suck at the sweet spot where her neck met her collarbone, “I need to get back to work.”

“No, you don’t,” He mumbled, and YN just rolled her eyes.

“I’ve deserted Mick,” She continues, “He might need help.”

“Mick’ll be fine,” He pulled his head up, resting on her chest as he peered up at her, “And anyway, I’m your boss.”

YN shook her head, “I need to go.”

Harry groaned but finally nodded, “Ride home with me?”

“Of course,” YN pecked Harry’s lips one last time pushed herself up from him and walked out of the room.

Harry’s eyes never left her the entire time.  

“Harry, no, I’m going to tip over.”

When Harry had dropped YN at home last night, he had muttered the words that he would see her tomorrow. Before she could clarify that she wasn’t working, he had sped off on his motorcycle into the dark of the night. YN should have known, though, that Harry knew she wasn’t working. It became even more clear when Ashley shouted at her from the kitchen at around midday today, telling her that her Rider was waiting for her.

Instead of the annoyance that YN felt the first time, there was a skip in her step this time. She had taken some time that morning to make herself look that little bit more presentable and waited for him. After their kiss the previous night in the office, and the slight peck that he had given her when she had climbed off his bike yesterday.

When she had bounced over to him earlier, a smile beaming on his face she didn’t have a single care as to what she would be doing that day – all she knew was that she was going to enjoy it. Even when she climbed on the back of his bike and asked where they were going – the smile never left her face. He refused to tell her, though, saying that it was a surprise.

“Harry, I don’t want to,” YN shook her head, hands grasping tightly onto the handles of the bike, “I’m going to fall off, or I’m going to crash your bike.”

What Harry had planned for the girl was to teach her how to ride. Whilst at the start YN had wanted nothing more than to learn how to ride, now that she was sitting on Harry’s bike without him there – she was terrified. Harry was standing close to her, cigarette dangling from his lips and an amused expression on his face.

“You’re not going to fall,” Harry shakes his head, “I’m right here… and I promise I won’t let you crash.”

“You can say that Harry, but you can’t promise,” YN was sitting on the bike, with her feet resting on the ground and absolutely no attempt at all to move.

He threw his cigarette on the floor, moving over so that he could wrap his arms around her waist, his hands coming to rest upon hers on the handle. He turned the engine on, and even though it was YN’s hands on the handle, Harry was controlling it. They went very slow – they had to so that Harry could walk at the side of them.

“I’m going to let go,” Harry spoke after a minute or so, but YN shook her head.

“I’m not ready,” YN pushed her body into his slightly, “I’m going to crash.”

“There’s nothing for you to crash into,” Harry peels one of his hands off of hers, “I trust you… you’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t as though he was lying. Harry had driven them out to a deserted road just out of town. Close enough away that they’d be home at a normal time, but far enough away that there wasn’t any traffic which would interrupt them. There wasn’t anything but stone and grass around them, and whilst if YN came to a haphazard stop, it wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing ever – there wasn’t a lot of damage that she could do to Harry’s bike.

Harry let go of her other hand, and she was doing it. Granted, she didn’t go over 2mph, but she was still riding the bike on her own. She wasn’t comfortable enough to attempt to turn yet, so she just came to a slow stop a few metres further down from where Harry was. She kicked the stand down and climbed off the bike – turning towards Harry with a smile on her face.

“I did it!” She bounced over to Harry and wrapped her arms around his neck, his coming to rest around her waist.

“Never doubted you,” He leaned down to place a kiss on her lips, pulling her body flush against his. Before anything more could happen, the sound of crunching on the road, as well as the sound of a siren interrupted them.

YN’s heart started to beat rapidly at the sight of a police car inching towards them. Whilst YN had dealt with police before working in her previous bars, she hadn’t ever been out in the open with her and only one other person when talking to them. Knowing that Harry also ran a motorcycle gang added another level of worry to it.

Harry just pulled YN with him, going to rest against his bike. He looked completely unfazed, whilst YN truly was shitting in her boots slightly. The police car stopped right in front of them, and as the door swung open to the car, Harry lit up a cigarette and brought it up to his lips – again, making it aware that he was completely unfazed by what was happening.

“Styles,” The officer sighed, slamming his car door behind him shit as he walked towards the two of them, “You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Hmm,” Harry just hums, inhaling from his cigarette, “I had no idea you were even looking for me… I wouldn’t have just stood in the middle of the road if I knew.”

The officer chuckled, placing his hands on his hips, “We had reports last night that you attacked a man.”

Harry shook his head, “Couldn’t have been me.”

“It happened at your bar,” The officer took a step forward towards Harry, “Had reports that you hit him over the head with a beer bottle.”

Harry just chuckles, “Officer Thompson, I don’t have time for this he said she said bullshit. If you’ve got something to say to me, I think you should say it.”

The officer just hummed, “Where were you last night?”

“I was at the bar,” Harry nodded, “All night.”

YN started to panic from beside him, but she tried not to make it obvious. Harry must have complete and utter trust in his riders to not say anything to the police. It made sense now to YN as to why that man hadn’t been given a jacket. He had instigated the fight, and yet he had run straight to the police with it. He was a coward and a rat.

“Can anyone corroborate this?”

“I can,” YN was surprised at how strongly her voice came out, “I was there with him all night, I work there.”

The officer hums once more, his eyes dropping down to focus on Harry once more. YN realises that it’s then that the officer has spotted his bandaged hand. YN’s mind starts to spiral slightly, hoping that one of them will be able to come up with something quickly.

“What, uh,” The officer couldn’t hide the smile on his face, obviously thinking that he had found him out, “What happened to your hand, Styles?”

Harry opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so YN interrupts. She giggles slightly, knowing exactly what type of character was going to be believable for this officer. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I’m so sorry, officer, that was my fault,” YN took a small step towards the officer, but not far enough that she wasn’t in arms reach of Harry, “See, I’m real clumsy. And yesterday, I dropped a whole crate of beer and Harry heard the crash, and he helped me clean up – unfortunately, he cut his hand in the process.”

The officer’s eyes moved between Harry and YN. There was no way at that point for YN to try and guess what he was thinking – or what he was going to say. Then, when the officer’s face broke out into a smile just the same as YN’s, she knew she had convinced him.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss, and I hope you have a good rest of your day,” Then the officer turned to Harry, and the smile on his face dropped, “I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Styles.”

“And I’ll be looking forward to it Officer Thompson.”

Harry rested against his bike the entire time, whilst YN had her arms crossed against her chest. They didn’t say another word to each other until they watched the car turn around and drive away from them. It was only then that YN turned to Harry, who was running a hand over his face. Sighing, YN walked over to him, grabbing his hands (but making sure to be careful of his injured hand).

“You didn’t have to do that,” Harry shakes his head, pulling her hands up so that he can place a kiss on the back of them.

“I know,” YN nods, “But I wanted to.”

Harry rests his chin upon their connected hands, “I wanna take you somewhere.”

YN would be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought about where Harry lived once or twice because she had. He had been to her apartment a few times to pick her up, and whilst she hadn’t necessarily wanted to be that forward and ask him where he lived, there was a part of her which wondered about it.

It was a strange circumstance. Where does the leader of a gang live? Where does he rest his head at night? Where does make his coffee in the morning? Whilst YN wouldn’t necessarily admit it, she was an inquisitive person.  

When Harry’s bike came to a stop outside of a garage, one that seemingly had an apartment attached to the top of it – it all made sense. Yes, the bar had to be doing well, with how many people were in it daily. But there had to be another way that Harry was making money, and it seemed as though this was it. She wondered if this had anything to do with the shipments that the other man had been speaking about.

He kicked the standout and gave YN the space the climb off before he did. He walked over to the shutter, unlocked the padlock, and threw it open. The apartment didn’t look too big, but the shop itself was huge. She had expected a car, maybe a few bikes – but she hadn’t expected rows upon rows of bikes lining the side of the walls. In the middle, YN could see the different stations where Harry and some of the other members worked.

“Are these all yours?” YN asked, her finger reaching out to run across the glossy black exterior of one of the bikes closest to her.

“Most of them,” Harry shrugged, dropping the shutter closed behind the two of them after pushing his bike inside, “Me and a few others, we buy them and restore them, make them better to sell on.”

“God, Harry,” YN turns to him, an expression of what could only be described as amazement on her features, “This is amazing.”

He just offered her a small smile, taking small steps towards her until he was close enough to wrap his arms around her middle. YN giggled slightly, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder as he pulled her closer to him.

“Pick one.”

The features on YN’s lips dropped again, “What?”

“Pick one,” Harry repeated, “A bike.”

“Yeah, I gathered that, Harry, I’m just confused as to why.”

He just shrugged, leaning back against the workbench near the two of them. YN turned around so that she was facing him, and Harry at once pressed his hands against her waist. It was funny to YN, to see the big, scary, gang member was so soft around her, and they hadn’t necessarily known each other very long.

“You said it yourself,” He shrugged, his hands pulling her between her body between his open legs, “If you’re gonna be a rider, you’ve got to ride. Seems like you need a bike to do that.”

“Yeah, but I’ll buy one,” YN spoke, as though it was the most obvious thing in the word, “When I have the cash for it.”

Harry shook his head, “No need, rather have you on one of these. Tested them myself, they’re all safe.”

YN just shook her head, propelling her body even further forward so that she could wrap her arms around Harry’s neck and press her lips against his. It was a clumsy kiss, with both of their teeth clashing and smiles upon their features but they did not care.

“Thank you,” She mumbled against his lips, pressing a flurry of chaste kisses to them afterwards.

Harry shook his head, “No need – pick one, baby.”

YN pushed her body up and started to walk up and down the rows of bikes until she spotted it. It was about halfway down the row, a bike with dark green glossy accents, looking nothing but sleek with the dark metal of the engine. It was the one that she wanted, and the second she was standing in front of it she knew it was hers. With that beaming smile across her features, YN turned and launched herself at Harry, wrapping her legs around his waist and his arms around his neck. His hands came to rest on the plump skin of her arse over her dark denim jeans. Even though YN suspected that she had caught him off guard, he didn’t show it on his face.

“How can I ever thank you?” She asked between a litter of kisses to his lips, a boyish smile crossing his features afterwards that YN wants nothing more than to bottle up and remember forever.

“That smile of yours is enough,” Harry nods at her, pressing another full kiss to her lips.

YN tilts her head to the side, turning to look at Harry with a slight smirk crossing her features. His eyebrows furrowed as though he already suspected she was coming up with something in her head.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“Maybe…” YN starts, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip, hesitating, “Maybe there’s another way I can thank you.”

Harry’s eyes widened, as though he was finally catching on to the thoughts swimming around in YN’s head.

“We don’t have to,” Harry shakes his head quickly. “I promise I’m not expecting anything from you.”

YN just shakes her head, leaning forward to place another kiss on his lips. Her hands tugged at the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I know you’re not,” YN offers him a smile, “I want to. I promise.”

Harry shook his head, a groan emitting from his lips as he tugged her even closer to him if that was possible. YN giggles at his obvious joy at her statement.

“God,” He rests his forehead against hers, “I know it’s wrong, but I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Harry turns, as though he’s going to walk out of the garage, but YN stops him. He furrows his eyebrows at her, and she just giggles once more.

“Want it here.”

“What?”

“Want it here, want you on the bench,” Harry groans once more, moving to drop her down upon the workbench that he had been rested upon earlier.

“Are you sure I haven’t dreamt you up?”

“Nope,” YN shakes her head, “I’m real.”

YN threads her fingers back through the curls at the nape of his neck, bringing his face back to hers. It doesn’t take long for their lips to connect once more. It wasn’t sweet or light. It was rough, as though both of them were finally able to do what they had both been thinking about.

Harry’s hands start to move down her body, resting on the hem of her jeans. She can feel his thumbs pressing down into the skin of her waist, and when it registers in her brain what he was trying to do YN pulls away, shaking her head.

“Not yet,” She lightly pushes his body to the side so that she can jump off the bench, “I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“You don’t have to,” YN’s hands rest on the lapels of his jacket, waiting for his nod before she pushes it off his shoulders.

“I want to.”

It takes just one swipe for Harry to pull his shirt over his head whilst YN’s hands come to rest upon his belt buckle. YN’s eyes widen at the sight of his exposed chest, as well as the tattoos that litter his sin. YN knew that Harry had tattoos; she had seen the ones on his arms multiple times, but it felt different to see the ones on his chest.

Her fingers work quickly to pull Harry’s belt buckle open, working on the button and zip of his jeans next. YN drops down to her knees, pushing Harry back slightly so that he’s resting against the workbench. Harry peers down at her, his chest heaving up and down in anticipation. Her hand rests upon the grey material of his boxers, palming his already semi-hard cock through the light material.

“You like teasing?”

YN shrugs lightly, “I have no clue what you mean.”

Harry laughs, watching her intently as her fingers loop into the band of his boxers, pulling them down to expose him to her. YN finds herself unable to pull her eyes away from his cock. She knew it had to be big from palming him through his boxers but seeing it before she made her mouth water and pressure to build in the pit of her stomach.

She placed a light kiss on his tip, which was already red and leaking from his obvious arousal. YN smiled, giving it a lick from the base to the tip before she used her hand to give it a few tugs. YN was confident in her moves, even though she had only done it a few times before in her life. She gained more confidence from the moans leaving Harry’s lips; they were deep and quiet, but she could hear them, and they caused her to squeeze her thighs together in hopes that it would give her some relief.

“YN… please,” It almost sounded as though he was pleading with her to do something, and YN almost moaned at the sound.

YN wraps her lips around the tip of Harry’s cock, beginning to bob her head up and down. One of her hands rested upon his thigh, whilst the other wrapped around the base of his cock, helping her with what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Her tongue lightly grazed his tip, earning a louder moan from Harry that egged her on further.

“Fuck… YN.”

Harry’s hands came to rest in her hair, helping her to move her head up and down his cock. It was a light tug that caused YN to moan around his cock, and she could feel Harry resisting from bucking his hips to meet her. Instead, she continued to bob her head, speeding up in hopes that it would help him recover from her teasing.

“YN gotta pull away,” Harry says after a minute or so, his grip on her hair tightening, “I’m gonna cum.”

YN doesn’t stop, however, instead, she keeps going until she hears him moan louder and start to cum down her throat. When she looks up at him, his head is thrown back, and his eyes are closed. She works her head up and down until he’s finished, only pulling away then. When she looks back up at him he has a look in his eyes that makes her assume that they aren’t done.

YN giggles as he puts his hands on her waist and pulls her up so she’s standing, immediately placing a kiss on her lips, seemingly not caring about the fact that his cum was on them. YN’s legs nearly gave out then and there, and she had to place her hands on his biceps to steady herself.

“Did that show my thanks?” She asked, tilting her head to the side innocently.

Harry wraps his arms around her thighs once more, picking her up effortlessly.

“Damn right, it did,” Harry starts to walk over to the door that she suspects goes into the house, “But I’m not done with you yet.”

It was quiet at Clover’s, a lull mid-afternoon on a Friday before everyone picked their spots for the night. YN had spent an hour or so cleaning and drying the glasses that had been used earlier in the day, making sure that they were to have enough for the night ahead.

The repeated motion of washing and drying gave her time to think, and more often than not, she found herself daydreaming about her morning, which she had spent in Harry’s bed, wrapped up in his arms. The two of them had been pretty inseparable before, but after he had gifted her the bike, it had seemingly gotten even worse, if that was possible. It had been weeks since that day, and YN could probably count on one hand the nights she had spent alone since then. Harry waited every night for her after work, and even when he couldn’t she would return to his house and wait for him there.

They hadn’t spoken about what they were necessarily, but that didn’t matter to YN. She didn’t need a label to know how she felt about Harry, and she assumed Harry felt about her also. For the first time in a long time YN was happy, and even though she was only a bartender and that useless history degree of hers wasn’t doing much – she wasn’t yearning for something else, for something better. YN truly felt as though it couldn’t get any better than it currently was.

The door to the bar pushed open, and whilst YN thought it was probably a rider coming in for a drink, she was shocked to see that it was Mick, obviously dropping in to start his shift. Thankfully, since YN had taken the day shift she didn’t have to stay until close tonight, meaning that she could spend more time in bed with Harry to end her week.

“Hey, YN,” She offered Mick a smile, “Just lemme drop my shit in the back and then you can go on break.”

“Thanks, Mick.”

Once he was back out, and she had passed over what she was doing to him, she made her way outside with the sandwich that Harry had made for her earlier. She was going to make her lunch, but Harry insisted that he make it for her. YN smiled at the memory of her sitting upon his kitchen counter, clad only in one of his t-shirts and a pair of pyjama shorts. They had laughed and joked and, at one point, had a break to dance around the kitchen to the song that was playing over the radio.

YN hadn’t had many relationships before, two at most she could think of, but they were never like this. They always felt transactional to YN. But with Harry, it truly felt as though they were two halves. There was a level of domesticity that YN loved more than anything with him, and every little task that they did together meant so much.

Once YN had eaten her sandwich, her thoughts filled with Harry and their morning. YN pulled her legs underneath her and began to read her book, knowing that she could get a chapter or so read before her break was over. It was a book about the Tudors she was reading, something that had been a passion of hers during her degree. It had been a while since she had read anything, but she supposed that the want came from her peace and happiness being restored.

She had just finished a chapter on Henry VIII’s Economic policy when she heard noise from the front of the bar. It was loud, and the voices that were speaking were quick, but it was muffled, so she couldn’t quite decipher what was being said. Putting her bookmark into place and closing the book, she pushed up from the chair and made her way towards the bar.

Mick was standing there, with three or four others in front of him. They looked panicked, and their words reflected that.

“Tell me again,” Mick placed his hands down on the counter, “I can’t tell a word you’re saying when you’re talking that quickly.”

“An accident, Mick,” It was Taylor who spoke, “There was an accident. We were riding along, and this truck came outta nowhere, sent him flying.”

YN moved towards them, her heart immediately starting to thump within her chest.

“Who?” Her words came out quickly, all of the men’s heads turning towards her, “Who went flying?”

“YN… I…” Taylor took a step towards her, his entire face dropping.

That was when she knew.

Her palms started to sweat, and her body felt heavy. There was a dizziness inside her head, and for one second she thought that she was going to fall to ground.

It was Harry.

“Where is he?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, the tears finally starting to collect within her waterline.

“YN…” Mick started.

“No, Mick,” She shook her head, “Where is he? Tell me where he is!”

Taylor took another step closer towards her, “I don’t know. The woman in the store across the street from where it happened phoned an ambulance, I left before they came. If I hazard a guess, they’ll be on their way to the hospital by now.”

YN nodded and before she knew it she was stalking her way outside and towards her bike. Ignoring the tears that were clouding her vision she climbed upon. Just as she was about to start it, a hand touched her elbow. It was Mick. She almost broke down crying there and then.

“Don’t,” Mick shook his head, “You can’t drive like that, darlin’. Let Taylor take you. Please.”

“He has to be okay,” YN shook her head, the sobs starting to wrack through her body.

Mick nodded, helping her off the bike, “He will be. But, if you wanna get there safely, in one piece let the boys take you.”

YN nods, walking over to Taylor’s bike and hopping on behind him. Mick gave her hand one last squeeze.

“Send him my love, okay?” Mick spoke and YN nodded, not trusting herself to be able to reply in that moment.

Taylor started the engine, and before she knew anything, they were hurtling down the street. This time, though, she wasn’t thinking about the wind in her hair.

[poguehearted77]

Wild Child

summary: after being sent away to boarding school for being a wild child you're finally back and celebrating your return in the only way you see fit.

smut: pool party, ragers, drug use (alcohol, vapes n weed), size kink, Rafe is cocky, mentions of old flings, manhandling, hot tubs, they do it on her parents' bed, rough sex, step-mom slander, reader is such a flirt n a tease, curvy reader, dom! rafe, bratty! reader, skinny dipping, mentions of body shots, choking, spanking (like once).

The morning sun was ascending high into the sky when you finally managed to get yourself out of your king-sized bed, fit for someone of your status and your parents' financial standing.

Your socked feet took padded steps towards your window where you overlooked the hills of figure eight. This was the first time you'd looked out your bedroom window in years. With a deep inhale a soft smile etched its way across your lips. You were finally home, and you had the house all to yourself. Or so you thought.

Your ears pick up on muffled indistinct chatter that managed to travel from the kitchen, down the halls up the elaborate staircase and into your room. Quickly, you headed for the source of the voices and were disappointed to see your dad and his wife plaything, Maria, conversing over coffee at the kitchen island.

"I thought you said the Jet leaves at dawn? What are you guys still doing here?" You try not to sound too curious, arms crossing naturally with your inquiry. With a clearing of his throat, your dad speaks up, "You only just came back two nights ago. Maria and I just don't think it's the right time to leave you alone for the weekend."

You scoff, "Why? You still don't trust me after what happened last time? Get over it, I'm twenty-one now, you can trust me." As you walked over to the fridge for a glass of water, you heard a muted exchange of ideas behind you.

"You can't expect us to forget about all the damage you caused. We still haven't found anyone to repair my crystal vases." You take a long sip, trying to swallow your toxic thoughts with the water.

She thinks she can just waltz up and down the house with that huge ring on her finger and think that her opinion carries any value to you.

You took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile, pitching your voice to become as sweet as honey.

"I can never apologize enough for what I did back then, but how will I ever earn your trust if you don't give me the chance." Your doe eyes land on your father, specifically his weakened composure.

You're about to break him, you can see it.

He exhales, all the air escaping through his nostrils.

Broken.

He glances down at his watch, "Fine, but if you throw another party so help me god Y/n you'll never see grass again." You play it cool, thanking him with a simple hug and completely disregarding Maria before you make your way back upstairs.

It's as though a weight had been lifted off your chest. You needed them out of the house, you'd been planning this party since you got back and made sure all the guests knew to keep it on the down low, just until they were gone.

The hours fly by, and you hardly keep track of time as you and some of your long-time friends set up the house for the party that you shouldn't be hosting, but you're Y/n Sinclair. Parties are your thing.

"Macy, you let the people in, kay? I'm gonna go get changed." The sun was beginning to set and the music was already blasting, vibrating over the marble floors of the house. Every lyric was punctuated with a shaking of the speakers that could be felt even outside.

The neighbours hated to see you coming.

You know your dad's jet was en route to Fiji and he wouldn't be able to reach you until he landed which wasn't for another six hours at minimum but by then the damage will be long done and far too late to stop.

You make your way up the stairs, the bass thumping through the house and vibrating beneath your feet. As you step into your room, your reflection catches your eye, excitement sparking in your gaze.

With a quick flick of your wrist, you reach for the strappy black and red two-piece, slipping it on, the cool fabric hugging every curve just right. Each strap crisscrosses elegantly, bold yet balanced, making you smile at how perfectly it all came together.

Next, you grab the sheer cover-up, wrapping it loosely around your waist so it drapes with a hint of movement, a playful edge that sways with you. You run your fingers through your curls, scrunching them gently to bring out their bounce, each coil framing your face in soft waves. Reaching for your lip gloss, you swipe it carefully over your lips, catching the light with a glossy shine.

One last look, and you’re ready, your heart beating in rhythm with the music below. The speakers are already blaring, the energy practically calling you back down. You step out with a final tousle of your curls, ready to join the night.

The energy crackles through the backyard as you make your way to the top of the outdoor staircase. The sun has slipped beneath the horizon, casting a dusky glow over the massive pool below, illuminated by floating lights that shimmer across the water.

The bar is buzzing with people grabbing drinks, and in the corner, the foam pit is already filling up, laughter and splashes mixing with the heavy beat of the music.

A neon sign hangs across from the bar, glowing boldly against the evening sky: The Queen of Kildare is Back. You grin, amused at the sight of it knowing it was 100% Macy's doing, and take a step down. Conversations hush, replaced by the roaring blast of excitement as heads turn your way. Hundreds of people, from familiar faces to those you only vaguely recognize from your past in Figure Eight, pause and look up, anticipation brimming in their eyes.

As you descend, your cover-up billows behind you, revealing the bold lines of your black and red two-piece. The crowd’s reaction is instant, erupting into cheers, whistles, and applause that echo across the yard.

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n" They chant and you laugh. Every step closer to the party, you feel the atmosphere thicken, charged with that infectious blend of excitement and admiration. By the time you reach the bottom, someone’s already handing you a drink, while friends rush over to pull you in for hugs and greetings, their voices nearly drowned out by the music and shouts.

"Y/n Sinclair, s'Been a while."

There's a voice all too familiar addressing you from behind, prompting you to pivot to come face to face with a much taller Rafe than your brain could recall.

"Rafe Cameron. Long time no see." He goes in for the hug, your arms reaching over his broadened shoulders while his longer ones wrap around your waist before pulling back. He not so subtly checked you out, his tongue darting out over his lips briefly as he took you in and you did the same.

The buzzed hair sharpens his features, you think. Making his eyes seem darker, more intense, as they focus on you. His open linen shirt falls loosely over his frame, giving glimpses of his toned chest and the subtle gleam of a thin chain resting against his skin.

The shirt flutters with the breeze, barely hanging on his shoulders, hinting at the strong lines of his arms and drawing your eyes down to his relaxed, dark swim trunks.

He’s saying something, leaning slightly toward you, and his voice cuts smoothly through the bass of the party. Your eyes wander back up to his face, catching the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he knows he’s caught your attention.

"You look good, too good. How long's it been?" It's hard for you to think with the heat of his gaze on you, but you don't falter, never surrendering to this never-ending game between the two of you.

"About 3 years." He hums, the way he looks at you, casual yet purposeful, makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, every sound around you fades, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the way he looks right at you, but you remind yourself to focus.

Rafe looks around the scene, eyes lingering over the wet t-shirt contest and then the game of chicken being held in the pool while others lounged on the various floaties or indulged in ungodly amounts of alcohol at the bar. As he does so, the pungent scent of weed drafts across your nostrils.

"Your old man know you're hostin' tonight?" You had to laugh, "Oh please, like he would ever let me have any kind of fun while he's in town. He and the skank are in Fiji."

The slight smirk that etches over his perfect lips taunts you. "So the house is yours?" He leans in, a little closer, closing the gap between you. "Until he comes back and banishes me again," You place a confident hand against his chest, pushing him away, "But for now, I'm here to party, and you should be too."

With that said you walk away from him, letting your hips sway with seduction radiating with each step. Rafe lets his thumb and fingers stroke over his jaw, feeling the weight of the pressure you'd just applied.

God, it was good to have you back.

The party raged on, slowly approaching its peak, body shots were going on at the bar, girls were doing lines in the bathrooms and the guys had insisted on a drunk game of volleyball in the pool.

Rafe took a break from the events of the party and watched from the sidelines on the couch, taking another hit of the vape that someone had passed to him, he's not sure he can remember who, and it wasn't relevant anyway.

The only person he had his sights set on is you. Watching you have the time of your life with your friends on the platform in the middle of the pool. Your little group, clearly intoxicated danced carefree while you'd begun to put your hands on the ground and throw your ass in circles.

Rafe choked, sitting up, some smoke coming through his nostrils at the interrupted airflow. He leaves his shirt behind on the couch with the abandoned vape, just as he heads for the pool topped hands him a beer which Rafe accepts before he gets in.

Maintaining a straight face as his body acclimatizes to the cool water he's almost immediately swarmed and roped into a round of whatever the current pool game was.

His icy gaze looks up to the center of the pool where you once were but are now nowhere to be found. "Looking for someone?" Your voice was mocking and he was grinning before he even turned around.

"I am actually." With little ripples in the water, he steps towards you maintaining a respectful distance that was driving you insane. "I was looking for someone to join me at the bar," He puts on a convincing facade but you roll your eyes, feigning innocence.

"Let me know if you find her," He slowly steps towards you and step back, "Don't play dumb with me, Y/n." Your plush lips form a gut-wrenching pout, "What do you mean?" Another step forward, another one back. The cycle repeats itself until he has you backed up against the edge of the pool.

Rafe’s hands find your waist, and before you can react, he’s lifting you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of the pool. You're reeling at the slutty display of his sheer strength.

Your legs dangle, brushing against his chest, and he steps closer, slotting himself right between them. His hands rest on either side of you, his arms framing you in as he looks up with that sly grin, every bit as teasing as you are.

“Always out here playin' games, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice low, a quiet rasp just for you. “Gotta say, I respect it—always sticking it to your old man, doing your own thing.” He leans in, his gaze drifting down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Not many people around here have the guts for that.”

You scoff lightly, though your heart skips as his gaze lingers on you, intense and challenging. “Oh, please,” you tease, rolling your eyes. “Since when do you care about any of this?”

A quiet laugh slips from him as his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along your thigh. “You think I haven’t been paying attention to you all these years?” he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“You might’ve been gone a while, but don't think I forgot all those nights we had our fun.” His words hang heavy between you as he pulls back slightly. Now his hand rests on your waist, his voice dropping lower.

He tilts his head, studying you with that familiar glint of mischief. “Now that you're back, I think we should relive some of our traditions, for old time's sake,” he says, leaning in until his lips brush against your jaw, light and teasing, close enough to make your pulse race. He pauses, his thumb skimming your cheek, his lips hovering just above yours, waiting. “But don’t act like you don’t want this as much as I do.”

Before you can snap back, his mouth claims yours, the kiss charged with all the years of pent-up tension and that all-too-familiar heat. His hands slide up to cradle your face as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him even closer. The kiss deepens, and when he finally pulls back just enough to catch his breath, he watches you with a smug, knowing grin.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your lips, his thumb tracing your jaw as if memorizing every inch. “That look you get right before we make a mess of things. I knew it—you missed this just as much as I did.”

If only someone could recount how the two of found yourselves stumbling up the stairs towards your room, your soaked sheer cover-up left forgotten somewhere in the house after Rafe pulled it off of your frame.

"Shit-- Rafe," your teeth dug into the flesh of your bottom lip as you reached to open your bedroom door, horrified to see two other people had monopolized it. They hadn't even noticed the door was opened so you quickly closed it.

"What the fuck, I thought everyone knew my room was off limits." With a quick scan, you noticed items were hanging off almost all the guest rooms in the hall letting others know the room was occupied.

"Shit, there's nowhere else to go in here?" You think quickly on your feet before rushing off to get something before returning with a key in your grip.

Rafe pulls you close with a smirk as you clutch the key to your father’s room, the gleam in your eyes daring him to follow. “Breaking all the rules tonight, aren’t we?” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with approval. His hand slips around your waist as you unlock the door, both of you glancing down the hall to be sure no one’s watching.

You twist the handle and push open the door, and his hand slides down to squeeze your hip, pulling you against him. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he whispers against your ear, his lips grazing your skin, sending a thrill down your spine.

Once inside, you barely have a chance to lock the door before he has you pressed up against it. His lips are on yours, urgent and fierce, his hands roaming over your body with possessive ease. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he breathes between kisses, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your waist as he lifts your top, letting it fall to the floor. “Thought I’d forgotten?” you tease.

Rafe just about growls, dipping down to kiss along your collarbone, his hands sliding lower as he backs you towards the bed. His fingers hook under the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them down with a smirk that sends heat rushing through you.

Your heart races as you feel the cool, forbidden sheets beneath you, the thrill of defying every rule and having Rafe look at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. His hands slide up your thighs, lips trailing down your neck as he leans over you. “You know,” he murmurs, voice heavy with desire as he takes in the sight of you sprawled out before him, “I always knew you were trouble. Guess that’s why I can’t stay away.”

With a smirk, he leans in, his lips brushing over yours as his hands explore, both of you savouring the thrill of being tangled up in each other once again.

"Look at these perfect fuckin' tits." He curses, big hands cupping your breasts, kneading them and rolling your nipples between his index and thumb. Your back arches slightly with a gasp, chest pressing up into him and he laughs.

"Still so sensitive here, angel? Some things never change." He reminisces and you roll your eyes, "Fuck off, Rafe." With the blink of an eye, his much larger frame was caging you in from above, his bulging biceps giving him an erotic juxtaposition in comparison to your head.

Balancing himself on one arm he slinks his palm around the expanse of your throat with a weighted pressure. "Been gone so long you forgot your manners? Mm? That's fine, I'll be sure to fuck some sense back into you."

Your eyes flutter shut at his filthy words as you feel his hand move and begin to work you between your legs. "Your pussy's fuckin' soaked--shit." He hisses, gaze hungry and his body acts on his thoughts faster than you can register.

A particularly loud moan slips from you as you feel his tongue skillfully lap over your folds, splitting you open as the warmth of his tongue protrudes into your core. "Yes, fuck! Please, don't stop Rafe." You moan, one hand reaching down to hold him by the hair and it hits you that he'd shaved it all off.

You let out a frustrated gruff, both hands fisting the sheets while you're forced to feel the vibrations of his sick laugh running through you at your dramatics. Even the tip of his nose had been covered in your slick, your juices running down his chin as he ate you out like a man starved.

He wouldn't be surprised if they could hear you from outside, but he knows everyone is far too high, too drunk or both to hear you. It wasn't long before your legs were beginning to shake and came with his name falling from your lips over and over like a prayer.

Taking deep breaths to recover from debatedly the best orgasm you've ever experienced, Rafe walked over to the far wall, out of sight, doing something you couldn't see before returning.

Without speaking he scoops you up into his arms, bridal style, another shameless display of his strength but it would be a lie to say it didn't drive you crazy. "What-what are you doing?" Your questions are ignored until he approaches the bubbling hot tub.

A wicked smirk curls across his lips as he eases you onto your feet in the warm water, his hands lingering on your waist, keeping you close. He gazes at you with that knowing glint, the steam rising around you both.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, his eyes trailing down your figure, unapologetic. His fingers skim over your sides, sending a shiver through you that’s from anything but the water.

“Are you really just gonna stand there?” you call, feeling the thrill of his attention but wanting to turn the tables, your voice laced with playful challenge.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he chuckles, unfastening his swim trunks and letting them fall to the side with a carefree grin. “I plan on joining you,” he says, slipping into the water and closing the distance between you two with smooth, unhurried steps. You take a hard swallow at his size, you don't remember him being this big.

He was going to destroy you.

You raise an eyebrow, matching his smirk. “Pretty bold of you, Rafe,” you say, your voice teasing as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Just like old times, hmm?”

“Better than old times,” he murmurs, dipping his head so his lips graze your ear, his voice a low rumble. “Because now, nothing is stopping us.” He punctuates his sentence by pressing his body up against your back, elevating you a bit so your torso leans over the edge of the tub, granting him easy access to you.

"Fuck, can't believe your ass got even more fucking perfect since last time." His hand raises and comes back down with a loud spank that pulls a sinful moan from your throat. "Rafe, stop teasing." You whine, arching your back and pressing back against him.

His composure already weekend, he decided to let you get away with it this time before he lined up the swollen head of his thick cock with your entrance, "Better grab onto something." That's the last thing you hear before you're being impaled on his dick, your upper half immediately falls forward, and he stills, giving you a second.

You're breathless, it feels like his cock was taking up all the room in your lungs. Some water had splashed over the ledge but that was the least of your worries. Your mind was hazy and focused on Rafe's grunts that escaped him with every snap of his hips.

"Wish you could see how hot you look right now. The Sinclair wild child knows how to take big dick like a champ." His words run straight through you like electricity, fanning the flames of the burning heat that was beginning to form in your belly.

"Shit--This pussy was fuckin' made for me, y'know that?" You moan at his possessive statement. You can only nod, your body had gone limp long ago as he drilled into you. "R-rafe! I'm-" As if you weren't close enough, his fingers begin to rub over your clit aggressively and you jolt with a shriek.

"Oh- fuck, don't stop! Fuck! I'm gonna cum! Please, Rafe." You beg, over and over, arms hanging onto the edge of the tub for dear life as more water splashes around you.

"Wait for me, hold it until I say you can come." You're chewing your lip raw, desperately trying to hold yourself back as he wrecks you from the inside out, his moans getting more frequent, a little more airy and breathless as he tumbled toward his edge of pleasure.

"Cum with me, Angel." Your body spasms as you finish together and he leans his weight against your back, his laboured breathing fanning your ear as you come down from your high.

"Not bad, princess." You couldn't respond and Rafe took note of this, carefully holding you up with one final smug remark, "Hope I didn't wear out the queen of Kildare."

[thecameronchronicles]

Heat of The Moment

TW: unhinged Rafe. Dominant sex. Dirty talk. Language. Oral sex. Hair pulling. Cum swallowing.

REQUESTED:

@gianadrichardson-blog

So the idea I have in my mind is that y/n and Rafe are dating and Rafe KNOWS that every guy wants y/n from tourons, college guys and even his best friends want her. So while y/n was out of town with her parents, Topper accidentally revealed that he had feelings for y/n and tried to date her while her and Rafe was in the talking stage. So Rafe calls y/n and sees where she at. When Rafe gets y/n location he shows up and let out his frustration he had and record them having sex with y/n then send to topper with the message “keep away from my girl”

Maybe y/n older brother have y/n phone and decided to play a prank on rafe acting like a guy had y/n phone

Heat of the Moment

"What the fuck, Top?!" Rafe accuses, holding Topper's phone high enough out of reach. But your pictures remain on the screen. More specifically, pictures the friend of your boyfriend shouldn't have.

"I- just stop it, man-"

"My girlfriend's tits are on your screen! What am I supposed to think?"

"She's in a bikini but it it doesn't matter okay? Just-just let me have it back." But Rafe smashes it before Topper can even brush his fingers against it. His finger is pointed in his former friend's face before he can right Rafe's actions that he believes wholeheartedly are justified.

"Rafe. When you and her were just talking, I...I thought I had a shot. I get that now, okay? I just, sometimes I wonder what if-"

"If I even see you looking at her after this, you won't be able to ever look again."

Rafe was already fuming. He was jealous and curious, both existing to a dangerous degree that meant his knuckles were bloodied more than healed and his voice hoarse from having defended you.

There wasn't a soul within a dramatic radius within the Outer Banks that didn't see your beauty. Whether it was the stunning way your eyes could focus and become instantly lustful with one look at your boyfriend or the way your voice warmed even the coldest of hearts, Rafe Cameron knew exactly what he had.

Perfection.

He just didn't expect to have to have to defend you to someone so close to him- someone who has apparently had feelings for you since before you were officially anything with Rafe. It makes his hands wrap tightly around the steering wheel and his foot practically punch a hole into the floor of his truck as he races across the Carolina road.

He never thought he left it to question. You were his. He was yours. It was as official as it could be without a ring or contract of marriage and yet he knew he needed to make it unquestionably true to the one person it mattered to.

So without a call or text in warning, he is pounding at your front door.

"Rafe? Are you okay baby, you-" He is over your threshold, face between your hands, your body pulled into his as he kisses you between words.

"You know I love you, yeah?" You nod with your hands coming up around his wrists. If you didn't trust him so gravely then you'd worry for the strength behind his hands as he brought you against him.

"You know I'd do anything for you?" He kisses with a grunt, more animal than the man you talked to earlier this morning.

"And that you say our word and it stops, no questions asked? That you know I put you first?" His forehead rests against yours as he waits for your agreement. It takes less than the time of a blink before he gets it.

"Good, remember that because I'm about to fuck you like I hate you." He lifts you around him and up your steps, suddenly too far away from your room.

You were the complete opposite of touch starved and yet you felt as if you had been drowning without his touch, the first moment of contact being an exhale for relief. Only in the juxtaposition that was being his girlfriend it also made you lightheaded.

"Rafe-" His hand comes up over your mouth as he only manages to get to the steps and turns you to cover them. Your knees dig into the uncomfortable wood and yet all you can focus on is the heat of the moment.

"Need to use that word, baby?"

You shake your head as he guides your hands around the open spaces between the bars making up your bannister.

"Then hold on." His belt sounds first and then the rough fabric of his pants being shoved.

"Jesus Christ, baby, I don't even need to spit on my cock, so I?" He leans over you, kicking your legs just wide enough to leave some comfort in the angle. "Always so wet for me isn't that right?"

"Always!" You moan into his hand as he grins against your shoulder before reaching into his pocket.

You hear the wrapper of the confom being torn and make the mistake to turn and see him do it with his teeth. Something about the savagery of it and the heat behind his eyes, still possessing your care above all else, and it sends you drenching the valley awaiting him.

"Safe and-" He moans, a deep honey tone, that makes your toes curl knowing you wrap around him snuggly enough to cause such a reaction.

"Tight, baby! Fuck!" He hits the stairs beside your cheek and yet it does nothing to limit anything. If anything, it spurs you both on as his other hand releases your mouth and you're able to kiss the skin of his fist as if to soften his rigidity.

"How are you so sweet AND sexy-hmm? Always know just what I need don't you baby?" Your body wills itself to endure all that is Rafe Cameron. Every tension soiling his happiness now pumping through every snap of his hips until all that remains is the frustration you know he veils from you. Still, you trust that every shove of him into you is only a method of showing you he cares.

However, it has never been quite this possessive before. Quite this needy. Quite this deep or hard.

And you fucking love it.

His hands can't move fast enough and yet they are graceful and not amateur. He rolls your nipples as he kisses your neck, thrusting without break, and whispering every dirty thought you have constructed in your time apart.

And then he becomes completely and utterly unhinged. Taking you in his lap, he pulls you facing away from him, still seated to the root. He bounces you, one hand around your neck, as the other rubs your clit. It can't be comfortable for him with the wood beneath you and still he is too driven by the cries you're making in the sound of his name to care about anything but this next thrust-or the dozens that follow.

"Nobody knows just how dirty you get for me, isn't that right baby? How deep you take my dick in this perfect little pussy? Yeah?" He slaps your clit with just enough pressure to make you jolt until he lifts his hips and makes you forget of the sting it leaves behind.

"How loud you get? It's a miracle nobody has called the cops yet. You sound like you're in pain, shit-" He turns you to him with the grip around your neck moving to your jaw and turning you to him.

"You good baby?"

"Harder-"

"That's my fucking girl?" You're lifted with a gasp following you as he takes you into your room. You are only allowed the reprieve of wood beneath your soles for a second before he's rutting you into the bed. Hand pushing your face into the sheets to somewhat muffle your screaming, all you hear is the repetitive "yeah"s in the mix of your name as he wallows in you.

"Do I have to worry about anyone else ever knowing about how good you feel?" You are torn away from your blissful daze at the question.

"What?" You turn and face him, seeing the phone pointed towards you. The heat from your skin accelerated until it is now the marrow in your bones and you can't cool it, not that you want to.

"Who fucks you deep enough to make you soak his cock like this?"

"Rafe!" You manage as he pulls your hair and makes your back arch for him.

"Who makes you dizzy and shit when he knows just where to hit?"

He pulls you to him, against his chest until you can look up at him.

"Who loves you enough to prove to everyone on this goddamn island you're his?! Huh?"

"RAFE! GOD! YOU, RAFE?" You sob, the pleasure almost painful as he grips your hip with one hand and keeps the phone recording in the other. The video is shaky and then disposed of as his cum begins to shoot from his heavy balls and up his shaft.

"On your knees, baby-" He takes the phone back, pointing it to your face. As always, he kisses you sweetly and runs a thumb over your lips, before you take him behind your smirk.

"Ohhh baby-" You accept him slowly before opening your throat to him. Eyes locked and cheeks prepped to be hollow, you wait as he cocks his head before powering through. He thrusts.

Twice.

Once.

And then becomes a blur.

Only grunts and 'fucks' leave between moans.

"Shit baby, you're gonna make me come- you want it?" He asks, managing to open his eyes long enough to see you nod. Digging your nails into his thighs, you drive him to pulse into your throat, over your tongue, and along with your swallow.

"Open-" he points the camera to show just the good girl you are.

"I fucking love you, baby, and now nobody will question who you belong to again."

"I don't think they do, Rafe..." You laugh it off as he helps you to your feet and into his arms within your bed.

As you fall asleep, you hear him tapping away on his phone before finally focusing completely on you. You rest well within his arms, satisfied in the countless orgasms you had as he reached his own, sweet dreams awaiting you that pale in comparison to what it means to be loved by Rafe.

Across town, Topper's phone buzzes. A video file from Rafe. The new phone, bought not even ten minutes after his last one was smashed sits in wait for the message.

MP4 file.

It is opened. The sound of slurping around the impressive shaft, angry and near completion is spliced with the sight of you spread for him on the stairs as well as the hip of the bed. Your cries are only of pleasure and they echo as the video plays.

"Stay away from my girl." Comes a warning meant for Topper.

Only it isn't Topper's eyes that come to the scene.

And it isn't Topper's life that gets the threat.

It is your brother's and he has just been waiting for an excuse to let out his own rage out against Rafe.

MASTERLIST

[biolumien]

heya!! Saw you had open requests. And I was wondering if you could do something with Hoshina with the trope of Opposites attract?

Like maybe reader could be shy and quiet type. Who is strangely not a fighter like he is. Reader could be a sweet civilian or something and it'd be nice to see how the rest of the characters react to their relationship. Though of course, feel free to change it as you wish. Whatever you write I'm sure it'll turn out amazing.

Feel free to ignore this if it isn't your fancy :DD

notes: ahh repeat it with me now the fic got away from me and took on a life of its own... i hope this is okay ;-;!!

cafe latte

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no content warnings necessary. i think word count: 1752

the first time you were saved by soshiro hoshina was in front of the wreckage surrounding your cafe. 

the smell of blood was overwhelming as you stepped out warily, wincing as a drop of the kaiju carcass’s acidic blood dripped onto the pavement in front of you, carving out a hole in the concrete. 

“careful!” a voice called out from somewhere above you. “it’s still not safe for civilians.” 

you watch as the vice captain of the third division, soshiro hoshina, lands deftly on the ground, sheathing his twin katanas at his back. his closed, smiling eyes crack open just a tad, and he hums, his voice muffled by his respirator. 

your eyes go wide. 

the third division was legendary among the defense force, after all, and it was soshiro hoshina in the flesh in front of you! your body seemed to move of its own accord, and--

“um–can i,” you stammer out, pulling out your notepad for taking cafe orders. “can i get your autograph?”

“huh?” hoshina wipes a bit of blood from his suit. “i mean, sure, but wouldn’t you rather get an autograph from captain ashiro? i’m sure the resell value on that is far better.” even as he said this, though, he’d reached out to sign your notepad, scribbling a haphazard signature.

“i mean–everyone likes captain ashiro,” you say nervously as hoshina hands the notepad back to you. “but—you kept the kaiju from wrecking my—my shop.” you shift your eyes to the front of your cafe, and then back to hoshina, covered in blood and still wearing his respirator mask. “so i wanted your signature specifically.” 

“oh, i see,” hoshina says. he sounds teasing. “business will be slow for a bit, though, with the cleanup. are you going to be okay?” 

“oh? i—yes, i… it’ll be fine. the cleaners usually take… two weeks, i think. so… it might be a bit slower.” 

“hmm.” hoshina hums, removing his mask. you’d seen hoshina’s face on the news, largely in the background as mina ashiro spoke on eliminating the kaiju threat—so you’d known he was handsome, but something about seeing his face in person was different. he felt more—tangible. real. 

“i’ll have to stop by some time,” hoshina says with a smile. 

“i…” you lift up your notepad to hide your face. “i-i mean… sure. i… i don’t know why you would… but—”

“think of it like me paying you back for the slow business,” hoshina says. 

“okay,” you say, your voice hitching slightly. 

[…]

business was slow the next week, as you’d told hoshina. the kaiju carcass outside was pretty bad for business, really–something about the bad vibes, or something like that. so you go through the motions, cleaning up tables, ordering new coffee beans and stock for the next few weeks when business would pick up again. it was hard work, but it was made a little easier based on the fact that there was hardly anyone in the cafe right now. 

you look outside the window, resting your elbows on the counter, sighing. looks like it’d be another slow day after all. 

you raise your head as the cafe door jingles.

“welcome to the—it’s you,” you stammer out as hoshina walks through the door. off-duty he wears fairly loose clothes, a sharp contrast to how sharply dressed he looks during press conferences. he’s dressed in a loose black jacket with a tight turtleneck, and loose pants with a pair of reasonably-fashionable looking sneakers, with a black mask over his mouth. “you really didn’t have to—”

“not like i had much better to do,” hoshina says easily, waving a hand, pulling down his mask now that he was inside. “it’s not often i get time off. and i gave you my word, so i might as well make good on it.” he walks forward, examining the cafe menu. “what’s good here?” 

“umm—the… americano, is… okay,” you say. “i… think.” “you think?” hoshina blinks at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, teasingly. “does that mean you don’t know?”

“i–no, it’s–it’s good,” you say more assertively now. hoshina laughs, and your heart skips a strange beat. 

“hm… i’ll admit i don’t really drink that much coffee, so i’ll give you free reign to do whatever you think i’d like.” hoshina smiles. 

“i–that’s too much freedom,” you protest. “what if you hate it–” “i’m not gonna hate it,” hoshina says. “i came here out of my own free will after all! just go with the flow.”

so you end up making him a latte, doing a bit of latte art on the top using some cream. it’s a small fox with closed eyes and a sharp smile, and you slide it across the counter for his approval. he picks up the cup, spinning it gently–and you try not to look too hard at his hands. he hums.

“looks almost too cute to drink,” he says. “cheers, though.” he takes a long, slow sip, and you feel your heart pound in your throat as he lowers the cup. 

“is—”

“it’s good,” hoshina says with a smile. “i’ll have to keep coming back here. i can’t believe i’ve missed out on this place.” 

[…]

he just… keeps coming back during his off duty hours, dressed sharply and plainly each time. you make him new animals in his lattes—cats, dogs, bunnies, mostly cats and foxes. 

a few times you attempt a very crazy looking kaiju, but by the time you hand over the cup it’s deflated already, and you slide over the drink with shame on your face and he just laughs, and you try not to think about the fact that his fingers brushed against yours as he takes the cup each time. 

you learn a bit more about him each time, but it’s mostly surface level things. how his day’s going, what’s annoying him—mostly what’s annoying him, but said in a conversationally light way. 

but he asks a lot of questions about you. favorite color, animal, food—innocuous at first, down to grittier questions about good memories, lasting regrets and the like. 

you answer to the best of your ability, hesitantly and nervously each time. 

“not that i don’t… appreciate the conversation, but…” you say one day as you’re scrubbing down a particularly messy table, “why do you ask all these questions anyway? i-i doubt my answers are… anything interesting, so—”

hoshina takes a sip from his coffee. 

you made him a penguin today. 

“i’m just curious,” hoshina says, in a tone that almost sounds apologetic. “work habit. gotta know everything about everyone. your coworkers, the officers, kaiju…” 

he watches out the window for a moment, and you think about the large gap between the two of you—two completely separate worlds as he fights to defend the world from a threat so foreign and massive that it seemed utterly inconceivable—and here you were, wondering about how you might sell enough cafe lattes to make ends meet and pay rent. 

“but more than anything,” hoshina says after a long moment, and you nearly startle hearing his voice again, “i just want to get to know you because you’re interesting.”

and in his eyes is a weighted, assured sincerity that makes your heart flip nervously. 

[…]

the second time you were saved by soshiro hoshina, it was a smaller, less dramatic affair. 

you’re carrying out trays to some other customers while hoshina sits at one of the tables, his laptop open as he’s working on some paperwork. 

and then suddenly you trip on one of the floorboards, falling forward with a yelp, and you brace yourself for the utter worst—spilled glassware and maybe a really bad fall—but then you gasp out as hoshina pulls an arm around your waist, keeping you from completely planting on your face. 

he lets go soon after, his eyes scanning yours for a moment. you wonder why your side feels a little bit colder, why you wished for the pressure of his hand against your side to stay for a little longer. surely it was nothing. 

“careful now,” hoshina says, a teasing lilt to his voice, but then he seems a little more contemplative, slightly more concerned. “nothing spilled too bad, right?” 

“no,” you say, a little dazed as you check the trays to find that thankfully, everything seemed in place. “thank you, hoshina.”

“mhm,” hoshina says, his eyes flitting back to his work. a smirk crosses his lips for a moment as his eyes flit back up to meet yours. “can’t save you all the time, can i?”

you sputter for a moment, and he laughs, and it’s not long before you’re laughing too. 

[…]

there are people huddled outside the street as hoshina enters into the cafe today. he seems a little weary, running a hand through his hair. 

“you look out of it,” you comment. 

“i… the…” hoshina glances back at the people outside. your eyes widen when you notice the telltale ponytail of—

“is that mina ashiro?” you exclaim, slamming your hands against the counter. “seriously? out here?” 

hoshina looks wearier at the excitement in your voice. 

“sorry,” you say. “but why is she here?” 

“i…” hoshina looks up at the ceiling, exhaling for a second. “do you want to go out with me?” 

you think your heart stops beating. 

hoshina’s watching you, and his eyes flit to yours, before trying to look at anything else. 

“where—where did this come from?” you ask. you want to hide behind something. your ears feel hot, and he coughs. 

“it comes from… ah, i’m not good at metaphor,” hoshina says, spreading his hands. “it’s so much worse than being straightforward—so i’ll just put it plainly. i like you. i come to the cafe a lot because i like you. i want to go out with you. and some of my… coworkers,” 

hoshina turns to glare at some of the people outside, who seem to scatter at his stare. 

“…were interested in seeing the person that has captured my attention. so… i hope that’s clear.”

does he seem ever-so-slightly nervous?

your face feels hot.

“yes,” you say, reaching out to clasp his hand. “of course.”

hoshina exhales, loud.

“okay. good. not that i was nervous or anything, but i’ve got a reputation to uphold out there, with those clowns,” hoshina says, squeezing your hand back, cool as ever. you smile, leaning up to kiss hoshina quickly, and he laughs, brushing his nose against yours.

and out of the corner of your eye, you see mina ashiro taking a picture with her phone. 

[mychapel-004]

a note on "fordtramine"

just a thought while im working on a comprehensive history of bill.

by now i'm sure it's common knowledge that stanford's favourite colour is "fordtramarine", a colour only him and bill are able to see due to bill rewiring his optic nerve as a gift, but something i find very interesting is this page from thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com

specifically, that note at the bottom on the "beautiful" paintings ford submitted to (unsuccessfully) demonstrate the colour. most of them are normal, including a self portrait in gouache until you get to "(E) A muse, oil on canvas".

not only that, but in the abstract ford writes that "specific two dimensional entities may act in the same way as a prism, refracting light.... new perceptions"

something something devoting a painting to your muse in the colour that they let you name, that they gifted you with the ability to see. something something bill acting as a prism, like the crystals ford keeps all over his house, that ford can look through, like a doorway into a world entirely made of the weird and wonderful that you connect so deeply with. a world that you can never show anyone else, your canvases are always blank and no-one else has the eyes that you do, your study is rejected and no-one will hear you out.

do you think bill felt that way? growing up, able to see what others couldn't, "its not your fault you have that strange eye", "the doctor says three sips a day will make the visions go away", able to see an entirely different dimension to his own parents, always too different and too strange and too weird.

CODES: "THEY'LL SEE" "THEY'LL ALL SEE" "THE EUCLYDIAN DEPT OF VISION SUPERVISION"

growing up in a world where it seems that seeing beyond the norm is heavily punished, it's kind of telling that bill's gifts to ford are often relating to seeing or knowing things that ford would never experience without bill (new colours, new directions for his research, his mindscape, the portal). the gift of vision from a god who grew up being blinded. bill really is his all-seeing eye, in a lot of ways.

in the same way, fiddleford's gifts to ford almost always revolve around very human comfort (gloves to fit his hands specifically, a pet to keep him company, a snowglobe reminder of the time they spent together) comfort that he was too distracted to devote to his wife and child, only ever to ford who broke or threw them away.

fiddleford accepted ford for who he was, and he showed that through his gifts. all of ford's strangeness and brilliance, gloves made specifically to protect and warm six fingers, a pet that looked like him for him to ramble to when fidd is gone. bill's gifts were brilliant and tailored just for ford, but they were isolating. experiences he could only have with bill, things that made him stranger, more alone, pulled him further into the weirdness, the grey area. all in preparation for the day bill would take things too far, and pray ford, so alike to him, would join him.

[kedreeva]

Okay so, I don't think I've spoken of the saga here yet but! Gather round. I shall tell you a long story about the bird I just acquired and why she is VERY IMPORTANT.

At the beginning of last fall, I started looking into quail genetics a little more, because I got tired of not being able to sex my Celadon quail by their feathers. Originally I thought I could kill 2 birds (ok maybe more) with 1 stone and order nice jumbo wild type (which MANY places advertised as wild type jumbo) hatching eggs, and this would help me put some size on the Celadons (jumbo) while also making them feather sexable (wild type). Perfect!

But then I come to find out that pretty much all jumbo lines are jumbo BROWNS, as in they all have the sex linked brown (SLB) gene. So, I was a little confused and a LOT annoyed because I wanted to work specifically with the wild type color/pattern. No mutations just straight, plain wild type.

And EVERYWHERE I looked - major production hatcheries, private breeders through websites, Facebook groups, local swaps, craigslist, e v e r y w h e r e -

People ONLY had SLB.

This spring I came across a video showing about the differences between SLB and wild type and I figured if the person who made it can tell, maybe she will have some. So I looked her up (not in a stalker way, her farm name was stamped on the video and took me to the website), and what luck! She was in Michigan! Upper Michigan, so still a hike, but not California, y'know?

So I shot her an email and explained that I was looking for WT and that her site said she bred them and that people could do local pickup. She responded yeah she's totally got a bunch! And I said great, I'm also in Michigan, albeit far away, but I don't mind driving 7+ hours each way, because I really need actual, trusted WT for sure birds for my celadon project, can I come pick them up?

Cue the most frankly bizarre email chain in my short life. As soon as I mentioned that I was going to drive, or perhaps that I had a genetics plan in place, she got super sketchy and started saying how she hadn't really paid as close attention to SLB vs. WT, that it mattered less than she thought it would when she started, that I shouldn't focus on that either, and also that "fawn celadon is practically unheard of" in the hobby and "you should focus on a clean Tibetan because it's hard to find without roux in it) implying that I should concentrate on those things instead. And concluded by telling me if I really want WT, to contact this other person (why happens to be someone I can't stand). It all sounded VERY much like she didn't have wild type males, after all, and had thought I didn't know the difference so it wouldn't actually matter. But, it does. It actually matters a lot to me.

So I messaged back to say, well, I don't want to do any of those things, I specifically want to work with this set of genetics and you said you have them so I shouldn't have to go to anyone else??

And then she went radio silent for a week. I kind of figured I'd called a bluff, and that she was one of dozens of people I'd contacted who'd said they had WT only to find out they had SLB. I get that it's difficult to see the difference, but this particular person was the president of the American Coturnix Breeders Association or whatever (found out it's actually just a club formed by her and her friends a year ago, so not as impressive as it sounds, considering they don't actually DO anything- no putting on shows, no newsletters, no certifications, no public breeder directory, no finished SOP, nada), so I kind of expected she should know what she's talking about, if anyone does.

Eventually, after a week, she responded that she had been judging at a county fair, but she had a few heterozygous males (WT het roux, which is fine) and she could set a hatch for me for more if I wanted to come at the end of the month, but she's in WI now, not MI. I said sure, since where she was in WI was actually closer than where she'd been in the UP, and we arranged date/time.

The day of, my neighbor friend, Jude, comes with me for company/keeping me awake through the 15 hours driving round trip. It's a pleasant enough drive. We arrived at a cutesy little house on the edge of town that looks like anyone's house in a neighborhood, with a spacious lawn. The person meets us and takes me around the side of the house to a 6x6x1.5 or so chicken tractor, where she's got some male coturnix. She pulls the available males for me to look through and... fam, they ALL looked SLB, to me.

Now, she swore to me up and down that they couldn't be anything except WT het for roux, because of the way she is breeding them. But I've put these birds next to my SLB males and if I didn't have my males banded, I would not ever have told the difference between them. I still picked up 4 of them, because I will give it a go- worst case, I can produce plain Roux hens/plain Roux males for use in breeding later, best case they do actually produce WT hens and they just LOOK SLB and I have to figure out what the differences are. I don't want to leave without seeing her hens, which she has told me are all WT (which is why the males HAVE to be het for it), and she takes me back. Now the hens, the hens are easy to see the difference. White bellies first of all, but the chest feathers are also wildly different! The shafts are white, the dot around the shaft is dark, ringed in red, ringed in white. On an SLB, the shafts aren't white, it's just a black dot surrounded in a red feather, and the belly is all red/buff/cream, not white.

This is what an SLB hen looks like:

So I take a nice long look to memorize the color, and thank her for showing me and meeting, and we head back home.

I do fecals when I get home because all of the males are VERY thin, no meat on them at all, and since she said she'd been feeding Purina (garbage for fowl feeds), I figured that was why, but no- HUGE coccidia loads in all of them. So I treated them and got them on a better feed. They immediately began putting on meat, and they're find now.

The rest of this summer, I have spent going to local bird swaps and inspecting all of the quail I could find, hoping to find one (1) actual wild-type phenotype bird. Hundreds and hundreds of birds, I have pawed through them all, being super obnoxious to the owners I'm sure, holding and inspecting males. I found ONE suspected WT male (and this is a HUGE "suspected," he could very well be SLB with low red expression). I compared him when I got home and I'm doubting myself still, so I don't know if I will ever actually pair him with the SLB hens or if I'll just wait til I have a roux set.

Regardless, it's been a dry season for getting what I want. It's been a dry YEAR. Yesterday was another swap and more hundreds of quail and me pawing through all of them.

Until.

My eyes landed upon.... her.

If you've only lived in an area that has american crows and not ravens, you find yourself wondering if crows are ravens. You see a big crow and you think wow! maybe that is a raven! It could be a crow, but it's seems bigger so maybe it's a raven. But, if you take a trip to a place with ravens, and you see one for the first time, you realize that there is no question, when you see a raven. When you see a raven in person, there's no question and not only is there no question, you wonder how you could ever have thought a crow was a raven. It's laughable, while looking at the raven.

That's how finding this bird felt. I'd been picking up every SLB hen and going maybe this is actually WT? It could be SLB but maybe it's WT? But the second I laid eyes on her in the middle of a pack of SLB with some mixed colors, I knew I was looking at WT hen, and I can't imagine how I ever thought maybe an SLB hen was WT.

Here's a better photo of her chest and belly (she's beat UP from her previous home, the back of her head and most of her rump are plucked clean from males). You can see the white shafts and the white belly.

And some other pics of her, showing the grey-brown on her side and back- VERY different than the SLB hens

I can't express how stoked I am about this bird. This is the first time after a LOT of effort and time, that I have felt confident I am holding the bird I want.

She's also the indicator that I have a LOT of work ahead of me.

My end goal is to have birds that look like her, weigh 12-14oz, and lay large, blue eggs. I have birds that lay large, blue eggs, I have birds that weigh 12-14oz live weigh, and now I have at least 1 bird that looks like her, which means I can make more that look like her. The first step is cleaning the color mutations out of the celadon line without losing the celadon eggs. This is going to be a bit of a nightmare, BUT, I have a friend helping me out with getting a few celadons that are either WT or SLB (I'm guessing SLB all things considered) to start the work with. I will work over the winter to get a few more actual WT birds here, and to start crossing out the celadons with the SLB jumbos to clean out the other feather color mutations. Once I'm down to just SLB and celadon for mutations, I can clean the SLB out with the WT and roux lines.

This project will likely take me a good 2 years, maybe 3, to complete and then test breed to ensure I haven't lost the celadon gene and I don't have any hidden recessives lingering about. But just having the fucking materials to do it all on hand now is a huge step forward from where I was when I decided to start the project.

[kislnd]

possessive - george clarke~

synopsis: george has to collect a tipsy y/n after a night out with her friends - there he is introduced to one of her old coworkers.

notes: i managed to accidentally post this several times before finishing it lol (pain) 😭 thanks to anon for requesting this plot x

warnings: alcohol & angst (good resolution dw guys)

word count: 2.4k

masterlist

"are you almost ready?" george called out to y/n, who was in the bathroom finishing up her makeup. she knew her friends were here to collect her for their night out and george was just making sure she didn't end up keeping them waiting for too long. "yes, just give me a sec!" she replies, throwing a brush in the general direction of her makeup bag haphazardly.

"all done," she smiles, coming out of the bathroom, finishing touches all complete. "you look gorgeous y/n." george beams, wrapping his arms around her middle. "thank you." she returns the hug and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to walk towards the front door, with george following behind her. "have fun and be safe," he says, "and when you're ready to be picked up just give me a text." y/n nods, she was always grateful that he was willing to do things like that for her no matter what time of the night it was. "see you later then," she grins, a grin that he couldn't help but reciprocate, and steps outside to join her friends.

the pub that y/n's friends had chosen was a local one, but one that she had walked past countless times without ever giving it a second thought. she wasn't sure what to expect upon entering the establishment, but that didn't make her nervous. she had always thought that trying out new things or places was one of the things that kept life exciting.

once over the threshold, her senses were immediately flooded - loud music blaring from what appeared to be karaoke (something she anticipated she would have to pry her drunk friends away from later in the evening), several conversations, most of which were shouted in a desperate attempt to be heard over the music, and a strong smell of alcohol. at least, y/n thought, the people seemed to be enjoying themselves.

"we can either sit next to the speaker and go deaf or nearer to that group," one of her friends gestured to a fairly large group of rowdy guys near the bar, "and also go deaf." they all laugh at this, although their laughter was short-lived - the options really weren't good. "i vote anything but that," y/n scrunches her nose up thinking about the group - if they were already unpleasant from the safe distance at which she was observing them, god knows how insufferable it would be to spend a few hours practically on top of them.

after some deliberation, y/n and her friends settled on a table closer to the music. with everyone situated and ready for the night, a few of the girls made their way to the bar to grab some drinks.

"is that everything?" y/n questioned, scanning the array of drinks that had been poured for them. "seems about right," her friend shrugged, "we'll figure out if we ordered everyone something when we give them out." y/n nods, she was right. thankfully, enough of them had come to the bar to help out that what would have otherwise been a horrendous balancing act, was actually a swift and tidy transportation of drinks. y/n placed the last few glasses down on the table before turning to one of the girls and saying quietly, "i'm just going to pop to the toilet."

"do you want one of us to come with?" she asked, to which y/n shook her head - the bathroom wasn't far from where they were sitting and she wasn't worried about anything else. they had specifically chosen to sit across the room from the disruptive group of guys so she figured they wouldn't bother her.

either way, y/n decided she would move as quickly as possible, sliding past the few people nearby and into the room. she didn't want to spend more time than she needed to in there - pub toilets were unpleasant at the best of times and she also didn't really want to miss out on anything. nevertheless, she took a moment to freshen up - her makeup was still in position and her hair didn't seem to be so different from when she originally styled it so she simply gave her hands a wash and made for the door.

grabbing the cool metal handle, y/n threw the door open and set off with the intention of walking briskly back in the direction of her friends. instead, her stride was broken by a figure colliding with her as she stepped out of the bathroom. "oh!" she jumped back, her body flush with the door, "i'm so sorry." she exclaimed. the person, whom she had now realised was a man who had just come out of the bathroom himself, smiled warmly down at her. "don't worry, i wasn't really looking where i was going." y/n studied his face for a moment, she could've sworn she recognised him but she couldn't quite put her finger on where from. "sorry," she brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face, "do i know you from somewhere?" she paused, wondering if that had been a strange question, "i just feel like you look familiar," she added.

"you're y/n aren't you?" the man cocked his eyebrow, but didn't wait for a response. "we used to work together." realisation hit y/n, she couldn't believe she had managed to briefly forget him, they had spent almost every day for a number of years side by side. she couldn't even blame this one on alcohol. "of course!" she laughed at her own silliness and also in the hopes of relieving some tension - she was praying she hadn't offended him. "we had some good times." she smiled. much to her relief, he smiled back, "absolutely, i can't believe how much time has passed. i'd love to catch up with you." y/n liked the idea - she had to admit that she had wondered what he was up to and this would be the perfect opportunity to check in. however, she also recognised that she was here with her friends and it would be wrong to abandon them, especially when they were the ones that organised the evening.

"i'm kind of with people at the moment," y/n gave him an apologetic look, she had tried to word it kindly, in a way that didn't seem like a harsh refusal of his offer. "no worries, just whenever you have a free moment later on," he smiles, "drinks on me, of course." y/n returns the smile, "see you later then."

//

y/n could feel her head growing fuzzy and she could tell her friends felt the same, so it had been a collective decision to end the night there. with everyone calling taxis or friends to collect them, y/n decided to drop george a text to come and collect her in around half an hour's time. as promised, she found her way to her ex-coworker's table, telling herself that she could only accept one drink out of politeness and as to not hate herself too much the next morning.

"so what'll it be?" he asks grinning, digging into his pocket to find his wallet. "just whatever you're having," y/n slid into a chair and waited for him to return with the drink. soon enough, the drinks arrived and after getting over some initial awkwardness, they were back to chatting like old friends. y/n was so caught up in conversation that she hadn't realised george had texted her numerous times that he had arrived until he entered the pub himself and informed her.

"i've been trying to get you to come outside for a bit now," george says, approaching the table where they were sitting. he wasn't angry, he was aware that y/n would be caught up with her friends and therefore a little slower to check her phone, but he was confused. who was this guy? he'd met y/n's friends on countless occasions, and she often mentioned them, but this stranger hadn't ever seemed to come up in conversation. "i'm sorry," she looked up at him with flushed cheeks, the alcohol had definitely gotten to her. george was about to open his mouth to ask her who the mystery man was but before he could get there, she interjected, "this is my old coworker, from when i worked at the shop."

suddenly it made sense - maybe y/n had mentioned him in passing, he was sure she'd talked about her time at the shop a couple of times previously. "well nice meeting you," george didn't really feel like engaging in any formalities, all he really wanted was to get y/n home and go to bed. "we'd better get home." he smiled somewhat apologetically, and took y/n by the hand in an attempt to coax her to stand up. "honestly, please join us," the man, who george still didn't know the name of (nor did he really care to find out either), said. "we were only just beginning to catch up." george glanced at y/n, although he wasn't so sure if she was in a good position to be passing judgement.

"that would be nice," she smiled softly, "george?" she looked up at him with big eyes, eyes that he often found very hard to resist. george still wasn't sold on the idea. "are you sure? it's getting quite late now." he questioned, in the hopes that she would agree and they could go. he really was not a fan of how eager this guy was to spend time with her, and it was made worse by the fact that he hardly knew the guy. "please?" y/n tightened her grip on his hand, willing him to just take the seat next to her.

at this point, george obliged. it was clear y/n was enjoying herself and this guy didn't make her uncomfortable. it was not worth ruining her night and mood by forcing her to come with him. "alright." he said flatly, admittedly through gritted teeth. y/n raised an eyebrow at his tone but brushed it off, maybe he was just tired and besides, he absolutely could tolerate sitting down and talking for a short while.

//

the more he talked, the more george was sure he couldn't stand the guy. the way he looked at y/n with such blind adoration in his eyes, the way he kept reaching out to touch her on the arm briefly during the conversation and his body language, completely focused towards y/n as if he wasn't there - it was all far too much.

george made a point of blatantly checking the time and announcing it to the table, "right, i think we should call it a night here?" he turned to y/n, who was obviously more tired than she had been when he first arrived, who solemnly agreed. george stood up first, quickly helping y/n up and wrapping his arm around her shoulder protectively. "thank you, that was a lovely evening," her former coworker smiled, "we should do this again y/n." the fact he had purposely left george out of the conversation, without even having the decency to offer an invite to him (or to any of her friends) confirmed every suspicion.

george's body stiffened, his grip on y/n tightening slightly. "i don't think that would be appropriate." he said calmly, masking how truly infuriating it was for him to be witnessing this behaviour. "we're leaving now." he didn't give y/n a chance to wave goodbye or say thank you to her old friend, and instead took off briskly towards the exit and to the car.

"what was that about?" y/n looked puzzled, to her the night had simply been catching up with someone from her past and nothing more. "could you seriously not tell?" george himself was dumbfounded, it was beyond him how she could be so oblivious. "tell what?" y/n snapped back at him, "all i could tell was that you hated him. your face was sour the entire night."

"well forgive me for not taking a liking to the guy who was practically undressing you with his eyes," george began to raise his voice, he didn't like getting angry and wouldn't ever want to upset y/n but it was impossible to contain his rage in the moment. "he was not!" y/n protested, "he is just an ex-colleague, what has gotten into you?"

"to you maybe," george still felt disgusted, "i mean, did you even notice that he was constantly trying to touch you?" y/n shook her head in disbelief, "i think you're being dramatic. even if he was flirting with me, why would it matter?" silence clung to the air. george stared at the ground helplessly, he knew that no matter the number of ways he tried to explain this to y/n she would just be adamant he wasn't making advances on her. "i like you not him." she reached out to touch him on the arm, "george, i'm not angry at you. i think i was just surprised."

y/n stepped closer to him carefully and slotted herself under his chin, wrapping her arms around him in the most reassuring hug she could muster - he did the same. "i'm sorry." he mumbled into her hair where he had buried his face, "it's hard to not get jealous when you have such a beautiful girlfriend." y/n grinned, "you are silly." she paused, contemplating whether or not to share her thoughts. "and for the record, i do think you are extra hot when you're jealous."

"oh?" george raised his eyebrow, "well, as long as you don't keep meeting up with random co-workers that definitely have a crush on you, i can live with that." he chuckled. "don't worry, you definitely scared him away." y/n laughed, "i am not at risk." george mocked offense, "hilarious y/n," he smiled sarcastically, guiding her towards the car and opening the passenger door for her to climb in before getting in himself.

"i do love you, you know," she stared out of the windscreen in thought. "i know you do, and i love you," george patted her knee, "let's just worry about getting you home now."

[just-a-ghost00]

What do they wish they could tell you?

This reading is romantically enclined. If you're wondering about a specific person that you're romantically interested in, whatever your situation may be, this reading is for you. The theme of this reading is Kpop solo artists.

Group 1

Cards : 4 of wands, Nature, Tibetan black quartz - Light up your spiritual path

I wanted to first adress that as I was pulling the cards for you, I felt a bit of warmth radiate through my stomach, around the solar plexus. And immediately this made me think of longing. I got the feeling that for a lot of you this would be a person that you are in a separation with, someone that is currently far from you whether that is by choice or because of external circumstances. The card of the tibetan black quartz mentioned a question that caught my eye straight away. "Could I be even clearer right now?" And this felt like something they would actually want to tell you. "What more do you want me to do? How far do I have to go to prove you that this is real?" This person feels frustrated and hopeless because they think you are not getting their point. That you do not see eye to eye with them. However, they think they have tried everything in their power to get you to understand the extent of their feelings. This person thinks a lot about you. They turn the situation over and over in their head again, to figure out what they've missed, what they could or should have done differently. The nature card made me feel like life circumstances lead you to go on your separate ways, yet this person is still keeping an eye on you and thinking about you consistantly. They cannot forget you. With so many eyes represented on the card and the presence of wings as well as a moon crescent that is placed like a halo, this makes me think that this person feels spiritually connected to you. The current distance between you allows them to consider your connection from a different angle and understand the truth of it all. Even though they may be missing you dearly, they think it's a blessing in disguise. This person wants to tell you that you are their home. With that 4 of wands, I get a strong message of "I want to come home to you".

"I want us to support each other and walk in the same direction. To face the future together, hand in hand, no matter what's ahead of us. I don't want us to fight and sulk all alone in our corner, when we could be together and ruling the world. I want us to write our own story. One we could fondly talk about to our children someday. One we could look back to with sparkle in our eyes as if it were yesterday. I have deeply thought about you, about us. About the change I wanted to see and the future I envisioned. And today, I know that my future is with you. I know that I want you to be around when I wake up in the morning, when I'm feeling down at the end of the day or excited about my success. I want you to be around when I am taking another step towards my goals or when I'm thinking of going back to where I started. I want us to see each other for who we are. No masks, no pretending. Just us, waltzing in the middle of a room like today could disappear and there would be no tomorrow. I love you. That thought has become as clear as the day. As certain as there is a rainbow after the rain. I want you like I have never wanted anyone before. That scared me, I admit it. But now I know. I know what it means and I am in for it. How can I get that feeling across to you? What do I have to do for you to trust me and let me in? Haven't I done enough already? Haven't have told you how much you meant to me? What was I lacking for you to distrust me and walk away? I want you to see me. Not for the person I used to be, not for what people portray me as, but for the person I am when I'm with you and the one I want to be for you. I wish you could see my efforts and my value. That you shared the same vision of the future as me. I miss you. There isn't a single day that I don't think about you. Everything reminds me of you and that is excruciating. To know that you may not feel the same, that maybe you are already in other arms, other sheets. That maybe you don't think of me like I do. That you have moved on and forgotten everything we've been through. When I look at the sky, I think I see your face looking down on me. When I see a star, I wish it were you shining a light on me. I pray to God for your presence. I ask for you to be safe and sound. I ask for you to love me. In my prayers I talk to you and whisper to the wind the words I wish I could whisper into your ear. Do they get to you? Do you feel my embrace anytime you are caught by the wind? Because I do."

Group 2

Cards : Page of swords, The Wildling, Hiddenite - Claim your happy place

First of all, I want to mention that a lot of air related energy is being represented in this spread and there's an emphasis put on swords because the wildling card also has two swords crossing depicted on it. Which reminds me of the 2 of swords card in certain decks. Right off the bat, I got a very combattive energy from these cards and heard "You are mine". "I'm coming for you." It feels like this person may have been very uncertain in the past about you, what you meant to them and what they hoped for. But they recently gained clarity about that and now they wish to communicate without about what they have found out. I also felt like this person is very protective over you and feeling urged to act. As if something happened that triggered this visceral need of being by your side as soon as possible. For some of you, I'm getting the message that your person may have heard that you were being courted by another person. If that is not the case, something may have given them the impression that such a thing was happening. They want to tell you that people better stay away from you because they intend to "claim" you as theirs. I'm getting a message that this person had a dream in which they were losing you, possibly in a tragic way or a dramatic way. And this person thought to themselves " sh*t I didn't see that coming". They want to tell you that now, they know where they stand when it comes to you. They want to be by your side, fighting with you instead of against you.

"I am done resisting the urge to love you with all I have. In the past, I tried to forget you. To ignore what I felt was so obvious. I was stuck in a loop, struggling between my thoughts of you and my fears. I was fighting against myself and in the process I was fighting you. I hurt you, said and did things that lead you to believe I was cold, that I didn't care when in reality you were all I could see. You were in my mind 24/7. I kept imagining things, wondering how we could be together, trying to establish the possibilities I had, making plans in my mind but I got scared and ran away. I am done running. I don't want to lie to you anymore. I don't want to pretend being this cold hearted s.o.b that only thinks about their own satisfaction. I want to be with you. To prove you that you were not wrong. To show you the true essence of who I am. I want to know more about you. To figure out this thing that's between us, understand why it's there, where it's taking us. I just want to talk to you. To know you're okay. That you're safe and sound, that no one has laid a finger on you. If that ever happened, I would be devastated. I look at your pictures and can"t help but wonder who took it. Was there another person behind the camera that loves you more than I do? I'm tired of acting as if nothing happened, of going to work or going on with my day wearing a mask of indifference when all I can think about is having you in my arms. I wish to tell you I am different than what you perceive of me. That I am worth your time and energy. I want to fight for your love and attention, to be worthy of you. I want to prove the world that we make sense. That we go together well. I want to make a statement that will mark you forever and let everyone know that you are off limits."

Group 3

Cards: 4 of wands, Connect to heart, Pyrite - call on your core power

Before doing your reading, as I shuffled the cards, I challened the song Listen to your heart from Roxette. Looking at the lyrics a little, I got the feeling of someone being afraid of missing an opportunity if they ever chose to walk away. It's like this person wants to say "I don't want to make the wrond decision". "I'm afraid of ruining it all if I don't take this seriously." They wish to tell you that they imagine a future with you. That to them, you are more than just a friend or a random person they may have met a few times. That their feelings are stronger than what you may perceive or imagine. They wish to tell you that they would do anything for you. That they feel attracted to you in ways that sometimes surprise them. That they are loyal to you and that their heart is filled with love whenever they think about you. You hold the key to this person's heart. They feel like you are connected through space and time. And even if you may be apart, this person's gaze is always turned towards you, their heart is always open to you, their thoughts are filled with memories of you. They just cannot go away and close the door, no matter how hard they try. Their feelings for you are stronger than any fear they may have regarding the connection. This person wishes to tell you that they want to be by your side through thick and thin.

" I love you. It's as simple as that. There isn't much to say or to argue about. Because deep in your heart, you know this is the truth. Ever since I met you, I have envisioned a future where we stood together hand in hand. I have wanted to be with you and support you, to hold you in my arms and cherish you for the rest of my life. Upon first sight I knew that this was not just a coincidence. That this meant more than our eyes could see and our minds could grasp. I felt immediately close to you and this incessant need to be close to you. I wanted to love you with all I had. I couldn't help but to adore you and worship you. I was like a dog on a leash and if at first I got scared, with time I didn't mind. Because it felt like this was the right thing to do. I always feel you in the corner of my mind. If I close my eyes, I can see you dancing in the room, trying to please me and seduce me. I can picture your body on the floor and the way it moves so naturally against mine. I can see us walking to the altar hand in hand, a smile on our faces, love radiating through our hearts. I can imagine the house we'd have, the family we'd build. The fairytale kind of love I always wished for. I cannot think of anyone else better than you to fit that role. I wouldn't want anyone else, even if that person was a better match. Because I chose you. And I am not going to go back on that decision. I want to make love to you. But everything has its own time, right? Let us not rush. We have all the time in the world to learn about each other and explore this bond that we share. I am sure you feel it too. This isn't an illusion. It is real. And I want you to embrace it just like I intend to do."

[astral-herald]

Uncritically Enjoying Mage Viktor

sometimes when i turn off my angry (logical) brain, i achieve some very sentimental mage viktor clarity that i would like to share <3

this is a lot different from my other Thoughtful "Analysis" Posts. my plan is as follows: address my understanding, slim though it may be, of mage viktor; bullet-point all the less than critical/theory driven reasons why he makes me happy; make a somewhat melodramatic point about reading/viewing for fulfillment over critique. mage-tor enjoyers, unite!

What is Mage Viktor's Purpose?

Try as I might to turn off my thoughtfulness, I am typically critical of the media I enjoy, so I'll be among the first to admit that Mage Viktor was certainly a retcon. That seems to be the fandom consensus, so I won't reiterate too much on that point. It makes shots like this especially funny, though, because that is simply not the Viktor we know, interdimensional or otherwise:

But something I would like to push back on is a pervasive "favorable" read on Mage Viktor as we come to know him in season 2. I fully disagree with the idea that Mage Viktor sought Jayce out in every timeline because he loved Jayce, rather than as a means of saving the countless innocents Viktor in other timelines would inevitably kill thanks to Hextech, the Glorious Evolution, etc. Hear me out for a second!

Bestie @arowyn-m pointed out to me that Necrit confirmed that Hextech is THE canonical event, the linchpin, so to speak, that ignites the chain of events we see culminate in season 2. These are the same events that Mage Viktor seeks to prevent. It takes however many lifetimes and iterations of mass destruction for Mage Viktor to gather two vital facts about the universe: Hextech is the inciting, inevitable incident, and Jayce is the complementary indelible constant. Hextech is inevitable, but only Jayce can show Viktor how to stop it.

Viktor's love for Jayce is not what motivates Mage Viktor to seek him out - it is the inevitable result of their being "inextricably bound." Reducing Mage Viktor's manipulation of time/space/what have you to his desperate need to protect Jayce in every timeline morphs him into a very out-of-character Genocidal Eldritch Being when he's supposed to be the antithesis of OUR Machine Herald Viktor. By taking up Mage Viktor's quest to kill Machine Herald Viktor under these very specific circumstances - acceleration rune in hand - Jayce can end the cycle. He trumps the inciting incident. His love for Viktor reigns supreme.

The fact that this is so awkward to explain speaks to the severity of the retcon. I guess what I'm getting at is that Mage Viktor was not acting out of selfish, obsessive love (as romantic as that may seem to some); he was searching for a way to right his wrongs and found it in Jayce, his inseparable other half.

"Only you could show me this."

MORE TO THIS POINT: even Mage Viktor, for all his implied wisdom, having seen countless lifetimes wherein they failed to stop Hextech, still does not anticipate the depth of Jayce's love for him. He (presumably, because don't see this exchange, because Riot made egregious cuts) tells Jayce that the Viktor of this world must die. Jayce "can't fail." As far as I can tell, he never tells Jayce that he has to die along with him. Jayce rejected Viktor's bid to be partners again, after all...

Mage Viktor, like the true Viktor that lurks within the Machine Herald, still believes that Hextech is fully his fault. He still believes in his own weakness and his shortcomings and is so reliant, obsessed with independence that he refuses to share this responsibility. When Mage Viktor reveals himself to Machine Herald Viktor, and he's confronted with the depths of his own feelings, he shoves Jayce away in a last-ditch attempt to preserve his isolation.

Jayce does not allow this.

The love that keeps Viktor "inextricably bound" to Jayce is not one-sided. Viktor, in all iterations and timelines, does not bear the responsibility for Hextech alone. In his dying moments, when he finally understands that LOVE is what has kept he and Jayce together all this time, his humanity returns to him. They save the world - literally. Love literally conquered all. No Viktor, not even Mage Viktor, anticipated this. All Jayce really had to do was kill this Viktor, but he couldn't bear to part ways.

TLDR: Mage Viktor found a way to save the world, but Jayce found a way to reignite Viktor's humanity. Neither of things could coexist without the other.

Smaller, Less Important Reasons Why I Like Mage Viktor

I'll never forget the breathless whiplash I felt upon Mage Viktor's reveal. I feel pretty alone in that experience - oh well! I'll be the pariah! - but here are the reasons why he's made such an impression on me.

Seeing an aged Viktor hit me like a bus. I know he's still stricken with the arcane, but there's so much wisdom and kindness and life experience in his expression. I never thought we'd see that. I doubt he did, either.

BEARD VIKTOR TRUTHER.

It gives Viktor some agency back. I wrote in an earlier post that Mage Viktor being the one to liberate Viktor from his own tragic narrative is pretty awesome, and I stand by that.

Mage Viktor's vulnerability. I feel like Mage Viktor, finally realizing that this Jayce is the right one, that this moment is the pivotal one, says a lot of what Viktor in all timelines longs to say to Jayce.

The question of lifetimes - how many times did Viktor search for Jayce? How many times did he watch a timeline go by without him? How much loneliness did he endure (for the greater good?). What was it like seeing that in-universe Viktor had killed Jayce?

Reading Uncritically (I Swear This is Relevant)

Rita Felski, a very cool literary critic who we all should read, said the following about reading critically (the way that lots of us engage with Arcane on tumblr): "It is a mode of interpretation that adopts a distrustful attitude toward texts...that remain inaccessible to their authors as well as to ordinary readers" ("Suspicious Minds" 216). Even though she's writing about academia/literary criticism, I think her point still stands. We engage with media with the intent to expose, unearth, and problematize. We eagerly search for moments where the text fails us at the expense of the "superficial" that would otherwise uplift us. We are practicing the "hermeneutic of suspicion," which can be exceptionally draining.

It's pretty melodramatic of me to apply this kind of theoretical work to Arcane, of all things, but this story means a great deal to me. It is deeply flawed - the Mage Viktor retcon is kind of appalling if you stare down the barrel of suspicion. But, in looking through a reparative lens (Eve Sedgwick's word, not mine), I see Mage Viktor as a agency-ridden Viktor, an aged Viktor, a vision of the future Jayce and Viktor together make possible. I'm enriched by that.

Felski asks us: "How else might we venture to read, if we were not ordained to read suspiciously?" (232). What can we derive from Arcane by putting the pieces together with the goal of harmony and fulfillment? In the smallest sense, we may feel a bit better about the ways in which season 2 seriously let us down. In a larger, more hopeful sense, moments like Viktor confessing an ultimate love and attachment to Jayce, and Jayce returning it in kind, may fill us with an even deeper appreciation for unconditional love as the culmination of human connection, a world-ending and world-renewing thing that stares down the BBEG of Arcane and wins.

You could probably read all of this as my apology for enjoying what so much of the fandom has condemned. That's alright. There are so many pieces of Mage Viktor that fragment under the critical microscope, but I can't shake the emotional impact of his reveal, so I'll live in that space for the time being. Had Arcane allotted for any explanatory conversations, flashbacks, and/or given up their soft world build to account for Mage Viktor, we'd be in a better place plot-wise. Alas, here we are instead. Everyone can point and laugh at me if they did all this just to bring back God/Made/Eldritch Being/Whatever The Fuck Viktor in future projects. That'll be my penance!

And, finally, if you really didn't like Mage Viktor, I fully respect that, but this is my self-indulgent post and I'm not overly interested in debating...there's little anyone could say that I wouldn't agree with. I'm just avoiding the suspicion of it all :)

[bunny-1111]

Wooooo Theo requests are opennnnnn

Could we have some jealous Theo pls?

Ofc you can... jealous Theo, here we go.

Word count: 1.8k

warning: swearing, aggressive behaviour, sexual innuendo

unread or edited

likes, comments and reblogs highly appreciated <3

...

It was unusual for you to intentionally piss Theo off, yes, you loved to tease him from time to time, but Theodore Nott has always been a hot-headed assassin if you push him far enough.

That brings you to today, more specifically, one hour and three minutes ago, when Professor Snape entrusted your class to choose partners for an upcoming assignment.

Of course, as usual, you had made your way to Theo to get started. To your complete surprise, your teddy was already settled and started with none other than Daphne Greengrass.

The problem with Greengrass was that she and Theodore were both house Prefects together, and their corridor patrol had already been a tense conversation topic during your last argument.

She kept him from you. Yes, it was mandatory, but respecting your girlfriend's boundaries should also be compulsory, you recall stating. He kissed your forehead and muttered something about you being overdramatic.

So you suck your teeth and tap him on the shoulder, his body turning to you with such imperturbable composure that it was almost as if you were interrupting.

"Work together?" you smiled, your lips too tight

His hand had gestured back to Daphne. "I can't, Greengrass bet you to it, darling", he explained, letting out an almost nervous chuckle.

You took a moment to scan the scene; we're playing this game, sure, game on.

"Really?" You questioned, your voice a little higher than usual, only to be met with a nod, so you smiled once more before leaving him with a quick peck on his cheek.

That brings you to now, watching them from a distance, the quill in your hand threatening to snap from the grip you held.

"Oh, come on, working with me can't be that bad, can it?" Lorenzo joked, gently insinuating to let go of your death grip before ink exploded everywhere

"No Enzo, it's not, just plotting for murder" you sigh, nudging your head in Theo's direction

"don't go all dark on us common folk, kid" he laughed

"Oh, I'm not. The rest of you are safe... for now," you joke back

"But seriously, Enz" you continue, throwing your hand in their direction.

"Yeah, well, I'd say bring it up tonight, but your boy's got patrol tonight too. He told us he can't come for a late-night fly, you see," rambled Enzo, now joining your stare towards Theo and Daphne.

"He does?" you beam

"He does." Enzo states

You nod as your face reflects a plan coming into your mind, a taste of his own medicine

"Oh no, I don't like that look." warns Enzo

"I don't know what you're referring to?" you practically sing

"What's more, I don't like that tone in you're the voice," he says, moving slightly away from you.

"Have I ever told you how much I appreciate our friendship, Enz?" You almost pout

"Nope, no, don't start this", he complains

"How about for two hundred galleons?" you pry

"Ok, what're we doing" he smiles.

By the time dinner rolled around, you had made an undeniable choice not to sit next to Theodore. Instead, you nestled between Blaise and Lorenzo, moving in closer to Enzo than comfortable. Laughing a little too loud at his jokes, holding eye contact for a second too long.

You observed Theo's demeanour across from you. His fork clattered against his plate, his appetite visibly waning. Across the table, his dark eyes narrowed, flicking between you and Lorenzo.

It was working, and you would finish with a bang.

When Lorenzo reached out of his pocket a small piece of parchment and passed it into your hand without shame. Taking the paper you open it, smile and nod his way.

By instinct, Theodore's hand shot over the table to examine the note for himself, but you were a step ahead, moving it just out of his reach, before shoving it in your own pocket.

"Passing notes to your best friend, girl, huh, Enz?" Theos tone ice cold

"For our assignment in Snape's class, ain't that right?" Enzo smiled playfully, knocking his shoulder into your own

"Right, Snapes class" you reply

"ah shit, I slept in this morning. Who'd I get paired up with?" complained Mattheo

"Don't stress, Riddle. We get to pick; it's whoever you'd like," you explain, your eyes not leaving a now agitated Theo.

By the end of dinner, you’d had enough fun—almost. As you stood to leave, Theo caught your arm.

“Come by tonight?” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

You smiled,  sharp. “I can’t, things to do. You’ve got patrol, remember? Have fun.” turning on your heels, leaving him strained.

Theodore almost constantly got his way, but this, this had to be dealt with; what the fuck was your problem and what the fuck were you up to.

Late into the night, Theodore walked cooly through the dungeons, Daphne beside him; as they walked, Daphne rambled on about Merlin knows, but Theodore didn't hear a word. He heard quick, shuffled footsteps around the corner; assuming it was some trouble-making third years, he quickened his pace.

As he approaches closer, he finally spots a shadow, as he squints his eyes he thinks he can make the shape out to be a girl

"Hey, stop right there!" he calls out, his voice echoing back in the quite of the night

Turning around you prepare to shrug your shoulders or run, depending on his reaction

"Alright, caught me fair and square, Officer Nott," you say mockingly holding your hands up

"Baby? The fuck are you doing, do you know what time it is?" he rushes brows furrowed, hand reaching for your face, he almost feels the need to examine you for injury, you're never out this late.

"I'm just fine, you won't write me up for this, will you," you grin taking a step away from him "Hi Daphne," you say as she comes around the corner

Before Theodore could reply or get an answer from you loud footsteps are heard again, this time not coming from you

"Are you with someone" he spills out, his voice sharp, accusatory

Opening your mouth to answer, before you could get a word out Lorenzo appears from the corner behind you

"You ready?" Enzo calls out to you then turns to Theo. "Hey mate, patrol kicking your ass or what?" he laughs walking to your side

"No, but I'll be kicking your ass if you don't explain to me why the fuck you're meeting my girlfriend at half past one in the morning?" Theo practically growled

"We're going to the astronomy tower, if you'll excuse us" you explain brows raised, attempting to walk off with Enzo, before Lornezo and yourself could walk all but four steps, Theos extending his rough hand to Enzos chest, halting any movenmt

"I don't think so, Daphne if you wouldn't mind walking Mr Berkshire here to his dorm, make sure he gets to bed" Theo demands, stalking closer. "I'll handle trouble of here myself" His eyes darkening as his hand finds your back immediately ushering you away before Daphne can even agree.

Theodore took you down a long hallway, out of sight before pressing you against a wall "The fuck kind of game are you playing with me, you think this shits gonna slide with me?" he mumbles as his hand slides up the wall behind you

"I was just seeing a friend, we were gonna work on Snapes project" you protest

"Yeah not on my fucking watch you're not" his voice now raised

"We're trying to sleep here!" A portrait from above calls out

"See don't want to upset the paintings now do we, I'll be going" you smile foot in front of the other, before you feel a pull forcing you back in your place, Theodore fingers gripping you by the loop of your jeans

"you got a real knack for pissing me off, y'know that," he says, his lips inches away from yours, his voice low

"feelings mutual, Nott" you mutter

Before you can protest anymore, his lips come crashing down onto yours, heavy, rough, possessive. You try to wrap your arms around him only to be met with his hands tight-gripped on each side of your hips, like he is trying to anchor himself. He was literally putting you in your place as his lips left yours too quickly

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged.

"Let me make something clear, try to get it through your thick, fucking, skull", he spat, his finger gently digging into your temple

"I'm not spending tonight with Greengrass by choice alright, I know why your doing this shit, you have nothing to worry about, don't give me a damn reason to question you" he rants

"I-" you interject

"No, I'm talking." he interrupts

"I don't share whats mine, you're mine" he continues his tone so sharp, it wasn't up for question, all you could do was nod

"So now you're gonna say sorry, Theodore and then we're gonna go to my dorm, so when you get to Snapes class tomorrow, you'll be limping" he orders

"I'm sorry" you say almost too quickly hoping the two words would be enough to get you to his dorm as soon as possible

"Good girl, I'm sorry too, for not making things with Daphne clearer, we belong to each other you and me" he says as his hand rubs up and down your arm

You nod once again in agreement

"Now what the fuck to do about Enzo" he laughs, cracking his knuckles as if to prepare

"No! I paid him to do this, I knew you'd be on shift, I knew you'd catch us" you ramble out

The confession makes Theo stop dead in his tracks

"You what?"

"I didn't know what else to do" you admit

"How much did he take?" he almost smiles

"300" you mutter

"that cheap git" he spits out

"Alright" he mutters picking you up throwing you over his shoulder

"Hey!" you yelp out

"Shut it!" a portrait from above called out

Ignoring the crowd above completely, Theo picks up his pace. "So this time, you can't run away", he says, tightening his grip on your thigh.

Let's just say the next morning in Snape's class, partners were swapped very quickly, Theodore insisting Lorenzo and Daphne were stationed on the opposite side of class; coincidence? Highly unlikely.

woohoo jealous teddy put me in my place next

[sysig]

I got a new prescription (Patreon)

[yanderefarm]

DUDE SILVAN IS SO…sigh. I need him lowkey..wanna reassure him and tell him he’s a good pet when he gets all insecure and upset :( ik he’d taste so good

comforting silvan

cw;; blood, vampires, dehumanization, hurt/comfort

this isn't a direct sequel to the last one but i wanted the illusion of that by setting it in the greenhouse during a rainstorm. enjoy just some simple comforting and reassuring your pet... before i hurt him again

the manor is too quiet. it's not like it's usually bustling with life considering it was full of undead creatures. but usually your pet, the only human in the manor, was making some kind of noise. silvan would be looking around for you or he would be entertaining himself with something. you tried to not pry into his life too much, it seems a bit foolish but you didn't want to accidentally take away anything that was still his. maybe you shouldn't leave him alone too much.

you couldn't find him. he wasn't in his room, he wasn't in your room, and he wasn't in the punishment room. you got concerned when he hadn't come to visit you for lunch in your office and according to your staff he hadn't even gone to have lunch in the dining room today. now you found yourself in his shoes, wandering from room to room trying to find your pet. you had looked in almost every room in the manor but he just wasn't anywhere.

you heard thunder crash outside drawing your gaze to the storm raging. you looked out the window watching as the rain pelted against the greenhouse. the lit greenhouse. you touched the frosted glass, your skin sticking slightly to the cold pane as you searched for a shadow inside the greenhouse. aside from the usual plants there was an odd shadow of what looked like it could be a pot on the floor. if you were a gambling man you'd bet that's where he was.

with your umbrella in hand you made your way outside, the rain growing ever louder. when you finally reached the greenhouse doors you could hear the wind angrily shuttering the windows of the building. it was unlocked like you had expected and you hoped that you weren't about to find the gardener at work. the light flooded the dark cold outside and greeted you with the sweet scent of your flowers. you took a deep breath to appreciate it before you stepped into the building.

you walked past rows of planters and pots filled with different flowers, herbs, and other greenery. your eyes finally caught a bit of silvan's pants leg and you stopped before you reached him. he had been able to hide himself under the sound of the rain and scent of the flowers, almost like he'd been trying to hide from you specifically. you could hear his heart was racing now, the sound like thunder in your ears.

you hesitated to open your mouth but you didn't want to leave him alone out here. "silvan, if you don't want me to be here I can pretend I didn't see you but please come inside for lunch."

you heard him whimper from his spot before the bit of his legs you could see disappeared. you let out a heavy sigh and lowered yourself to sit on the ground where you stood. you were certain now that he was hiding from you but you still didn't feel like you could just leave him.

"did something happen? are you worried I'm going to punish you?" that earned you another whimper.

"mm... i don't know what it is so i can't guarantee you won't be punished but if you tell me now we can figure it out together." you reached out your hand far enough that he could see it.

you opened your mouth to speak again when his warm hand grabbed yours. just the small contact of his soft skin was enough to bring you a welcomed warmth. you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze which spurred silvan to finally crawl out of his hiding spot. as his face came into view you could see his tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes tell tale signs he'd been crying for a while. he sat in front of you, his hand holding onto yours as tightly as his human strength allowed.

"im sorry, master..." he didn't dare to look up at you, his eyes fixed on the ground between you two.

"tell me what happened." you ran your thumb over the back of his hand to encourage him.

"I'm the most worthless useless..." his voice cracked as tears brimmed in his eyes again.

you'd heard him talk about himself like this a thousand times. "silvan. why do you say that?"

"its true..." he fidgeted a bit under your gaze. "the noble that visited you this morning..."

you remembered the conversation you'd had this morning. a greedy fool wanted to bolster his small human farm by presenting you with a new pet and in the process he put down your current pet. you hadn't dignified him with a response at the time because you found it too stupid and braindead to comment on. you should have.

"i know I'm not impressive or prestigious... the only thing im good for is my blood and im sure someone else would taste better than me.." he sniffled as he tried to hold his tears back in his burning throat. "i didn't even feed you today.. worthless useless garbage... garbage, garbage, garbage..."

"are you done?" your tone was a bit harsher than you intended it to be but you were getting annoyed at yourself and the idiot you'd seen this morning.

you pulled his hand back towards your body, pressing your lips against his knuckles. "you keep insulting me.. you might need punished after all."

"n-no i-"

"an insult to my property is an insult to me. do you understand?" you looked up at him, your lips still pressed against his hand. his olive eyes met your gaze and the tears he'd been trying to keep back burst forth like a dam had broken.

you used your grip on his hand to pull him into your arms, his head tumbling into your chest. "my beautiful pet.. you are the most precious thing i own. your taste is better than even the highest quality human farm. your warmth sparks inside of me the last vestiges of humanity. your voice is like a sweet melody that I need to play at all times."

his hand had let go of your own to instead claw at your back while he sobbed. you held him just tight enough you wouldn't hurt him, one hand petting his hair so softly while the other was around his waist. you pressed a tender kiss into his hair.

"it hurts to know that you'll never be able to accept how much you mean to me. how i would do anything if for a moment you could feel how deeply you're loved." you heard his voice crack into louder sobbing as he wailed into your chest.

"my beautiful pet." you kissed his head again.

you two sat like that for so long you assumed the day had creeped into the evening already. your sweet pet had cried until he couldn't anymore, his tears dry on his cheeks and his voice so raw and hoarse it'd be a wonder if he could talk tomorrow. you moved him to sit in your lap like you usually did to feed on him, your hand rubbing soothing circles into his back. his head had fallen to rest on your shoulder and his eyes were trying to fight back sleep with languid blinks.

"silvan, dear, I'm sorry to ask this of you." you could feel a familiar blood thirst trying to tug at your mind.

he lazily lifted his head to look at you, his olive eyes were empty with dark bags under them. "master?"

"i know you're so tired, my beloved. if you want to say no you can, you won't get in trouble. but could I drink from you?" you felt bad when you saw him struggling to understand what you were asking for a moment. you moved your hand up his back to slide a finger up under his ribbon and press right against his pulse.

his eyes finally registered what you wanted and he nodded lazily. "pleash-"

you gently undid the ribbon exposing his scarred neck to you. you ran your finger along one of the old fang marks enjoying the way he gave you a delayed shiver. you retied his ribbon around his eyes earning a soft moan from him.

"i love you, pet. now rest.. I'll drain all the pain from you."