#a little rushed because laziness and lack of time

[amareinmortis]

So this often happens in my playthrough of Cookie Run Kingdom:

[boy-cow000]

Drained

Spencer x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Mostly Fluff, Mention of a case, Spencer feeling rough

Summary: After a particularly long case Spencer happens to lock himself out of his apartment. In need of help, he stumbles into the home of the only non-bau friend he has left. However, he finds himself much more comfortable with you than he originally thought.

Word Count: about 890

A/N: Pretty short blurb because I’ve been dying to write again but I’ve been too lazy to rub my two brain cells together and produce something :,D btw IDK what season this is in so use your imagination

_______________________________________

Spencer couldn't be more thankful for his job. Knowing the lives he saved and the people he helped was enough to get him through most of the especially rough cases. However, this most recent one had been particularly troubling. The random small American town they had been flown to was not known for their technological advancements, to say the least, and the lack of documentation had made Garcia's job almost impossible. On top of that, the intrusive and misguided opinion of the head chief of police had completely skewed the case in the wrong direction. Needless to say, Spencer was rightfully exhausted, along with the rest of the members of the BAU.

After landing and leaving the jet, he told himself that all he had to do was head home so he could finally sleep. Truth be told, it wasn’t even that late; the plane had landed around 8:20 PM. Yet, sleep was the only thing on Spencer's mind after that 48-hour case.

It took him some time to get home, but at this point, nothing but the sweet relief of his bed mattered. Except, much to his dismay, he seemed to have a little trouble finding his keys. Unfortunately for him, that “little trouble” turned into a full-blown panic very quickly. Spencer tried to remember where he had put it. Mentally swatting away the thick fog laying over his mind, he let his head smack against his front door in defeat when he realized that his keys were left on the jet. Calculating his options, it became apparent there weren’t many. His coworkers were probably already sleeping, and it's not like Spencer had a history of having an extensive list of friends. Well, except you, that is. Spencer didn’t feel like paying upwards of 65 to 120 dollars for some locksmith to come in the middle of the night, so you were starting to seem like the best option. Knowing you didn’t live far away, he grabbed his things and started to text you. On the drive over, he began feeling a little nervous. He wondered if the reason you weren’t answering was because you were asleep and if he was going to bother you.

Upon arriving, he felt at ease seeing the lights in your apartment on. He fumbled with his bags but managed to get to your front door without dropping anything. He was so tired. Blinded by the light of the inside of your apartment, he resorted to a curt “hi” once you opened the door. You let him in a bit panicked; to be frank, you didn't know why he had suddenly asked you if you could crash. You were still happy to see him, however.

After explaining the situation, you let out a sigh, knowing nothing serious had happened. You told him to make himself at home while you figured out where your extra covers were. He took off his shoes and sat himself on your couch, awaiting further instruction.

When you came back, you saw Spencer, palming the socket of his eyes. Your heart stopped for a second, worry took over, and you wondered if maybe the case was weighing on him more than he’d like to admit. You rushed over.

“ Spence! Are you okay?” You laid the covers on the edge of the couch and rested a hand on Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer peeked into your eyes for what seemed like forever—a breathless moment between his answers. You felt your heart form a lump in your throat; your cheeks flushed, and you suddenly felt guilty. What if Spencer was actually doing terrible and you couldn’t help him because you were too busy wrestling with the effect he had on you? Eventually, you broke the intense eye contact, and Spencer sighed in return.

”I’m fine, really. It’s just… I was exhausted a minute ago, and now”

”Not so much.” You finished his sentence for him. He let out a light chuckle and bumped shoulders with you. He must’ve been delirious, because you couldn’t think of another reason why he would’ve been comfortable enough for all that physical contact. Your torso stiffened, and while still trying to calm yourself down, he let his head roll onto your shoulder and nudge itself into your neck. Spencer was going to kill you if he kept this up.

Spencer snaked his arms around you, entrapping you and making you fall back into the couch a little. You grabbed his opposite shoulder, hoping to lay him back, but his head bobbled a little lower, and it was clear he was no longer awake. Spencer kept snuggling, and it was making it increasingly harder to get yourself out of his grasp. An incoherent thank you left his lips before he fully fell asleep. So you sat there, absolutely surrounded by Spencer. Glaring at his slumbering state. Overtly aware of his faint sent, of his hair brushing against your face, of his slowed breath on your neck, of his hand grasping your waist, of him.

Your own exhaustion was catching up to you at an alarming pace. Despite your brain and dignity screaming at you not to fall asleep in his arms, your thoughts were starting to blur. Eventually, you fell asleep, caged in, breathing to the sound of his heartbeat. With that, tomorrow promised itself to be interesting.

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐬

cw: fingering in a library

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧

it’s pathetic to say but books seem to be the only friend you’ve been capable of making at high school. it doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, who would want to befriend lying, back-stabbing, drama-causing bitches? you simply didn’t have time to deal with that anyway. the only thing in mind is your dream school, waiting for you arms outstretched and all. you find yourself in the library yet again, past school hours, deciding to hole yourself up in the silent room until closing hours, then studying more in the comfort of your own room. exciting friday evening!

frustrated, you puff as you get stumped by another question. today simply isn’t your day and you can’t understand why not. everything seems to be going the same. unless-

your thoughts are interrupted by a familiar figure strolling over to you, sporting the usual bedhead and that infuriatingly lazy smirk. of course.

kuroo tetsurou drags the chair out from beside you and sits on it backwards, as if that was somehow charming. what, is this supposed to be sexy? "hey, princess," he drawls, looking at you through his raven-black hair, his voice slow and syrupy. you respond with nothing more than a glare and a pointed nod toward the 'silence in the library' sign above your head. "no one follows that stupid rule," he says, deadpan. you roll your eyes and pointedly shift in your seat, turning your back to him. "aw, don’t be like that," he purrs, his tone almost teasing but as lazy as ever. there's something catlike about the way kuroo moves and talks like he’s never in a rush. every word seems deliberate, almost annoyingly slow. "i just wanna have a little fun," he whispers, leaning in, his face far too close for comfort.

you can practically feel the smugness radiating off him. and of course, he’d choose now to be a distraction. an unfamiliar hand circles the flesh around your knee, the owner of that hand grins at you, chin resting in his hand. you slap it away, not tolerating any of his nonsense. “fine.” he says in surrender, arms lifting off. “i won’t get up to anything. you would sigh in relief but you know better than that. “but can i just…” the same sneaky hand back on your exposed leg, thumb gently rubbing circles on the soft skin. “keep it here. to keep you company. and mostly because i can.” this makes you loosen up.

right. your autonomy has been stripped from you.

you turn to face your books properly, deciding to delve into your material again, maybe this time you’d focus better. “good girl, see that wasn’t so hard.”

silence envelops the both of you as it’s meant to be, and it’s fine. he really isn’t bothering you, the problem is your sensitivity. you’ve realised that your fogged-up mind was due to your lack of release. a kuroo being here, his hand shifting higher and higher, every occasional grope being tighter than the last has you subconsciously squeezing your legs together. you’re hoping he won’t notice, especially as you keep switching legs to cross and avoiding squeezing your thighs together but soon it's evident on your face and how you’ve not picked up your pen after 5 whole minutes. you’re sitting staring holes into your maths book, hoping you don’t make as much of a twitch to give him the wrong signal. a signal on which he picks up.

“don’t stop because of me, really. i’m just here to watch you work is all.” you can’t even snap back at him as you’re focusing on no sounds slipping past your lips. “but,” he says carefully, leaning close. if you need to ever ‘let lose’ you know who to come to. i mean I'm not a study expert like you, but i do know… that if you’re not in the right headspace, then it’s hard to remember what you’ve learnt. i may know a few ways to help unwind. say the word and i’m yours.”

“ohh.” it’s quiet when you succumb to him, allowing this. but you can’t help it, you feel pent up and your mind isn’t thinking clearly.

“i’ll take that.”

you’re gonna hate yourself for this.

“make it quick.” you snap, readjusting your sitting angle to allow room for his hand.

“oh honey, i don’t rush my work.” he informs you, eyes locking with yours as he looks up.

great.

“what if we-”

“get caught?” he finishes, tearing his gaze away from your legs and to you. “don’t worry, i know that one of your big concerns, that won’t happen. unless you can’t keep your mouth shut.” with a slow hand, he lifts the fabric of your skirt, cold air rushing further up your legs. “you really are a soaker. look at that.” he exclaims, the only time his eyes seem to widen as he soaks in the sight of your drenched cunt, wetting your panties.

usually, you would feel a flush of embarrassment but the need the need to come is stronger. cautiously, kuroo slips his fingers down the undergarment, the gentle pads of his fingers reaching your clit. you sigh softly as with gentle rubs he soothes your stress. you place your hands around his arm, which seems to be working its magic as you’re finding it difficult to sit still in your chair. you see him wanting to tease you about your inability to stop squirming, which he bites back upon seeing your targeted stern look. you’re actively pushing down moans in the silent library, the only sound is chairs shuffling, pages rustling and pens rolling. not the sound of a girl having her pussy played with when anyone could come in and spot the two students in the act, getting them expelled.

but it’s all too thrilling. maybe for kuroo more than you. he doesn't notify you when his fingers slip from your sensitive bud and down into your throbbing cunt. you instinctively squeeze your thighs together, the sensations getting stronger and making it harder for you to control yourself. it’s almost as if kuroo is chasing the high himself, the way his fingers pump and curl so rhythmically, fingertips brushing against your g-spot every so often. “shh baby, we don’t wanna get caught now do we?” purrs in your ear, clearly enjoy how flustered he’s making you and how powerful you make him feel. you close your eyes and drop your head back, rather than focusing on not riding his fingers subtly. “don’t need to hold back on my account, you can ride em if you wanna.” kuroo’s laser-sharp focus and attentivity to subtle details like that almost freak you out. as if he’s almost watching. “come on princess ik you want it.” he says with a smile, that you can feel on your cheek. pressed against it and feeling defeated as his smug grin boasts itself in your face. you almost have half a mind to push him off and leave, but in that way, you don’t get satisfied, you don’t release, you don’t win. “there’s a good girl.” he hums as you give into your corporeal desires, and start rolling your hips towards him. you hate you admit it, but he is damn good. he knows how to work those fingers.

your hair falls in front of your face again as you lean it forward, feeling the pressure build-up within you faster than usual, your sweet release seems to be approaching much more hurriedly. £fuck I'm close I'm gonna come.” you pant out breathlessly, still aware to keep your voice down.

“i know, i know, i can tell. i’ll make you come real soon.” his lips attach to your jaw as he kisses along it. £fuck you’re tight.” he states, removing his lips from you and focusing on speeding up and working his fingers faster, thrusting harder. now the chair is squeaking against the floor and your heart is racing, from fear, excitement and pure bliss of all the sensations blurred into one. kuroo places a large hand over your mouth, covering it firmly as he feels your high approaching. it takes a few more seconds before you’re squealing muffled squeals into his palm, closing your eyes and pointing your toes. “ cumming all over my finger like that, didn’t take you for a messy girl.” his fingers are drenched in your arousal and neediness. dripping in pure out as he peels his hand away slowly. drinking in the sight of your puffed-out state, trying desperately to silently catch your breath in the library. your composure is lost as you place your hand on the edge of your chair to keep yourself upright, hair slightly sticking to your face and legs still in the air as you come down. “messy girl,” he coos. “this is no way to leave the school, don’t want your cum ruining the carpet now do we, open wide.” you follow his instructions without a second thought, your mouth opening wide on command as his fingers invade it. you suck without being told to, your tongue swirling around his digits as you look up at him with your larger doe eyes.

“there’s a good girl. hey fun idea, wanna take this to the table? i can think fo a couple ways to make you cum faster.” you deadpan at his suggestion. your face does not even crinkle in the slightest to show the least bit of amusement.

“was that supposed to be funny? that’s no funny. please leave now, you’re disrupting our silence.”

“the only thing disturbing the silence was your loud ass pussy, but whatever you say princess.” he shrugs,

⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲

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taglist: @slutkoo

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

[mariacallous]

Salman Rushdie has just published Knife: Meditations After an Attempted Murder. In August 2022, he was giving a talk at the Chautauqua Institution in New York. Hadi Matar, a 24-year-old from New Jersey, rushed the stage and stabbed him 15 times. It was astonishing that Salman survived. He lost the sight in one eye and sustained terrible injuries, but he’s still with us and he’s still writing, and unlike Hadi Matar, he’s still worth hearing.

We think of fanatics as stalkers with an obsessive knowledge of their targets.  Like the antisemites who compile lists of Jews in the media or the homophobes who so focus on the details of gay sex they might almost be closet cases

Most terrorists and bigots are not like that. They are like soldiers in an army who kill and hate for no other reason than tradition or men in authority have told them to kill and hate. If we were less fascinated by the pseudo-glamour of violence, we would see them for what they are: dullards and jerks.

In Knife Salman is almost as angered by the sheer lazy stupidity of his wannabee assassin as his violence.

“I do not want to use his name in this account. My Assailant, my would-be Assassin, the Asinine man who made Assumptions about me, and with whom I had a near-lethal Assignation … I have found myself thinking of him, perhaps forgivably, as an Ass.”

The ass “didn’t bother to inform himself about the man he decided to kill. By his own admission he read barely two pages of my writing and watched a couple of YouTube videos”.

That was enough, apparently, along with a little light indoctrination in the Levant.

We know from Matar’s mother that her son changed from a popular young man to a moody religious zealot after visiting her ex-husband in the Hezbollah-controlled town of Yaroun in Lebanon, a mile or so from the Israeli border.

“I was expecting him to come back motivated, to complete school, to get his degree and a job. But instead, he locked himself in the basement. He had changed a lot. He didn't say anything to me or his sisters for months.”

Salman quotes a wonderfully perceptive line from Jodi Picoult

“If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.”

Rushdie is openly contemptuous, as he has every right to be.

“I see you now at twenty-four,” he writes, “already disappointed by life, disappointed in your mother, your sisters, your father, your lack of boxing talent, your lack of any talent at all; disappointed in the bleak future you saw stretching ahead of you, for which you refused to blame yourself.”

This has always been the way. Readers old enough to remember 1989 when the Ayatollah Khomeini ordered Salman’s execution for writing a blasphemous satire of Islam’s origin story in the Satanic Verses,will know that Khomeini had not read it. Nor had the furious demonstrators in the streets or the regressive leftists and Tory ministers who upbraided him for the non-crime of causing offence.

Those of us who had read the book pointed out that it was a magical realist fiction which contained sympathetic accounts of the racism Muslim immigrants in the UK suffered. Indeed, the Tories of the day loathed Salman, we continued, because of his confrontations with official racism.

But after a while we fell silent. Pleading with his enemies felt demeaning. It gave them undeserved credit, as if they were reasonable people, who could be swayed by evidence rather than just, well, pillocks.

In Knife Salman attempts an imaginary conversation with his persecutor.

OK, he says, Islam, unlike Judaism and Christianity, holds that man is not made in God’s image. God has no human qualities, it says.

But isn’t language a human quality? To have language, God would have to have a mouth, a tongue, vocal cords and a voice, just like a man. The terrorist’s understanding is that God cannot be like a man, however. So, God could not have spoken to Gabriel in Arabic. Gabriel must have translated his message when he came to the prophet.

The angel made it comprehensible to Muhammed by delivering it in human speech which is not the speech of God.

Thus, the version of Islamic instruction Matar received in his basement when he switched from playing video games to listening to Imams was an interpretation of a translation.

“I’m trying to suggest to you that, even according to your own tradition, there is uncertainty. Some of your own early philosophers have suggested this. They say everything can be interpreted, even the Book. It can be interpreted according to the times in which the interpreter lives. Literalism is a mistake.”

For a while, Rushdie says he wants to meet Matar again at the trial, as if he wants to have the argument in the flesh.

He tells a story about Samuel Beckett, which could only have happened to Samuel Beckett.

Beckett was walking through Paris in 1938 when he was confronted by a pimp named Prudent, who wanted money from him. Beckett pushed Prudent away, whereupon the pimp pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the chest, narrowly missing the left lung and the heart.

Beckett was taken to the nearest hospital, bleeding heavily. He only just survived.

You will never guess who paid for his treatment. James Joyce, of course, he did.

Anyway, Beckett went to the pimp’s trial. He met Prudent in the courtroom, and asked him why he had done it. This was the pimp’s reply: “Je ne sais pas, monsieur. Je m’excuse.” (I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.)

But the more he thought about it, the less Rushdie had to say to his enemy. The idea that you can have theological arguments with a man who wants to kill you for writing a book he hasn’t even read felt ridiculous.

Although popular culture is full of stories about murderers, and true crime podcasts top the charts, killers and fanatics are nearly always less interesting than their victims. More often than not they are just thick. Nasty and vicious, but thick first of all.

We are about to see the stupidity of fanatics deployed on a mass scale. Two thirds of Republican voters (and nearly 3 in 10 Americans) continue to believe that the 2020 election was stolen from Donald Trump, and that Joe Biden was not lawfully elected. They think it because that is what Trump told them to think.

Islamists told Matar that Salman was an apostate, and that was all he needed to know. Trump told Republicans the election was stolen and ditto.

If Republicans were consistent people, they would not vote for Trump in 2024. What would be the point? They would have every reason to fear that the deep state would rig the 2024 presidential election as it rigged the 2020 presidential election.

But they will vote for him because, once again, that is what he tells them to do.

In the end there is a limit to how much attention you can pay the vicious and the stupid.

They are not interesting enough, as Rushdie concluded with marvellous disdain as he contemplated the life sentence Matar will face.

"Here we stand: the man who failed to kill an unarmed seventy-five-year-old writer, and the now 76-year-old writer. Somewhat to my surprise, I find I have very little to say to you. Our lives touched each other for an instant and then separated. Mine has improved since that day, while yours has deteriorated. You made a bad gamble and lost. I was the one with the luck… Perhaps, in the incarcerated decades that stretch out before you, you will learn introspection, and come to understand that you did something wrong. But you know what? I don’t care. This, I think, is what I have come to this courtroom to say to you. I don’t care about you, or the ideology that you claim to represent, and which you represent so poorly. I have my life, and my work, and there are people who love me. I care about those things.”

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Hawks x Reader Imagine

You’ve been on too many dates to count at this point – maybe 7? Maybe 10? It could even have been 14. Hell, they’ve all blurred together in a haze of happiness and laughter the likes of which you’ve never known in a romantic relationship.

You’re flying – tucked into Hawks’ protective arms as his powerful wings propel you both through the air. It’s exhilarating to be up this high, yet to feel so safe. You look up into Keigo’s soft face and smile – he’s wearing his typical lazy grin and his soft blonde hair is plastered flat in the wind. He smells like a mix of oak and sweet honey, and you hope that when he leaves you later tonight your clothes will still carry the scent for a bit.

“Brace yourself, birdy.” He calls out over the howl of the evening wind as he touches down on your apartment’s rusty balcony. He gains steady footing and then slowly places you down so you can stand.

“That was so fun Keigo – and the mini-golf was a hoot, too!” You say enthusiastically, recalling the way Keigo had accidentally let go of his club on an upswing, sending it zooming through the air and into a small pond. Hawks laughs, still a bit embarrassed by his lack of coordination on the course.

“Any time I get to spend with you is a blast, gorgeous.” He pulls you back into his chest and wraps his arms securely around you. You let your head rest on his muscular shoulder and inhale deeply, taking in his delicious scent once more.

“Can I tell you a secret, birdy?” He asks, absentmindedly running a hand down your hair.

“Of course, Kei.” You sigh contentedly at the motion, enjoying the way he traces a finger along the shell of your ear.

“I didn’t quite understand it at first, because I’ve never dated anyone like this before. But yesterday I was finally able to put a name on what I’m feeling…and, well…I’m falling a little bit in love with you.” The words come spilling out of his mouth in a nervous rush. He’s rambling and sweating in the cool evening air.

“Oh, Kei.” You sigh, your heart overflowing with emotion for this silly chicken Pro Hero. You pull your face away from his chest so you can see him fully. His bright eyes glint in the hazy city lights as you pull him in for a show stopping kiss.

His lips are impossibly soft as they move in time with yours. He seems to be savoring every sensation as he groans into your mouth. You lightly drag his lower lip between your teeth in that way he likes and you can feel his hands slip down to grab at your ass. He quickly moves his mouth down to your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder – anywhere he can easily reach with his hot mouth.

“I feel the same way.” You sigh as you feel his fingers move to swirl around your chest. “I’ve been a little bit in love with you since you asked me out to coffee while on patrol.”

“Really?” Hawks chirps as he continues to kiss along the curve of your shoulder. “Sometimes I wonder how I managed to land someone as gorgeous as you.”

You slide your hand up his back and between his wings, sussing out the sensitive spot between his feathers that you’ve learned drives him wild. After a moment of searching, you find it and press down lightly. The groan that comes out of the Pro Hero’s mouth is nearly sinful.

“Why don’t we take this to your bed, birdy?” Keigo says in a low, husky voice as he scoops you into his arms and slides open the door to your apartment. “Let me show you just how much I love this body of yours.” And he spends the rest of the night doing just that.

[gurugirl]

A Good Boy | 4. A Mistake

Summary: Y/n goes to an event with Leo for Valentine's Day and Harry's upset. Hurt feelings lead to a messy fallout.

Note: This is stepmon!reader x stepson!harry - both are adults in this story but don't read if you don't like it.

Word Count: 12,565

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, inappropriate & forbidden relationship, age gap, cheating, lying, angst

A Good Boy Masterlist

“M’not ready to leave,” Harry’s words were muffled as he spoke with his face smushed into the soft part of Y/n’s inner thigh. “I can skip my first class. I can skip them all.”

She laughed. He was adorable with wild curls and flushed cheeks. She almost gave in. Told him to just stay with her all afternoon and she’d skip tennis practice. They could finish off all those strawberries they bought on Saturday at the farmer’s market. But she knew better. And so did he. Their weekend had been nothing short of spicy and fun.

“You can’t skip your classes, Harry. As much as I’d love to laze here with you all morning we can’t.”

He sighed and laid his chin over the top of her thigh as he looked up at her. He’d woken her up like that. Nuzzled in between her thighs and softly licking her awake. He refused to go harder or faster so his slow, lazy tongue up and down her labia drove her mad. She got everything wet as he continued gently eating her out. He wanted to be extra gentle with her because he’d fucked her extra hard the night before. At her request. He made her come and then he pounded into her, biting into his lip hard, breaking the skin as he thrust into her harshly, stretching her out with every brutal thrust. He was getting a little better at holding off his orgasm. Though, last night he did have to keep pulling out to catch his breath. She was sighing and moaning and slick for him. And when she finally did come she was shaking and mumbling so loudly Harry had to laugh but then was abruptly interrupted by his own orgasm.

And so in the morning, he went easy. Delicate strokes with his tongue slipping through her crease and over her clit. She did ask him to go faster, harder, anything. But he shook his head with his eyes on hers and just continued lapping up her sweet, slippery, arousal. He wanted to make it last as long as possible. Didn’t want to rush her to her orgasm. Didn’t want it to be over because that meant it would be time for him to leave.

“When can I see you again?” He asked as he kneaded the underpart of her thigh softly.

“I’ll think of something. We’ll make it work. “

.           .           .

Tennis practice was more difficult than Y/n imagined. Her whole weekend had been full of Harry, which meant a lot of sex. And that meant she was a little sore in some spots so she wasn’t quite on her game. But the reminder of why she was feeling sluggish only made her smile.

And if it hadn’t been for the lack of actual sleep perhaps her body would have been more willing to work harder during practice. But being next to Harry in bed was akin to sitting at a table with her favorite dish plated and made just for her. With no one around to tell her not to taste or dig in. It was impossible to resist.

So they’d wake in the middle of the night or during a nap and slip together until they were satisfied. Hours of sleep were lost for Y/n over the weekend but she wasn’t upset about it all.

She realized that just the thought of him made her heart skip a beat. The smile that worked its way over her features and the tingle of excitement and the thrill of happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time pulled her through the few following days she didn’t get to see her Harry.

The Valentine’s Day party was on a Friday but Y/n wanted to see Harry so badly she could taste it. It had only been three days since she’d seen him but three days had her longing for him in a way she hadn’t expected.

Harry was doing his best to keep his thoughts from entering into the depths of the truth of what they were doing. Tried not wondering if Y/n had slept with his dad since he’d returned from the Hamptons. Tried not imagining how pretty she’d look at a Valentine’s Day party and what might happen later that night. But sometimes the mind wasn’t kind. And Harry could not stop imagining that she was naked and doing things to his dad that she’d done to him.

And when she called him as he was in the middle of letting his thoughts spiral the burst of hope that filled his muscles and his veins made his dimples dig into his cheeks as he answered.

“I was thinking I could come over tonight. To you. Do you think I could be sneaked in?”

He hadn’t expected her to ask to see him. He was sure she was doing fine without seeing him. Figured that while he was plucking the worst images from his tortured mind, she was off shopping and laughing with her friends. He knew she wasn’t that shallow, of course. It’s just that his thoughts weren’t allowing him any grace.

“Yeah. Definitely. Should be easy.”

It was easy. Harry was on the first floor and he was lucky enough to have his own room. She was able to walk right in without anyone spotting her. Not that most of the guys there would even know who she was.

There was no time for talk the moment the door was closed behind Harry. He pulled at her t-shirt and wrapped her in his arms and captured her lips in his.

She dropped her little bag onto the floor and moved her arms up and over his shoulders as she let him kiss her like he hadn’t seen her in months. That’s kind of how it felt. She’d missed his sweetness and his eagerness. Missed him.

“Mmmm… Harry… baby...” She whispered as he moved his lips down to her neck. “I missed you. God I just needed to see you so bad.”

Harry moaned as he dragged his mouth over her skin and up to her jaw, “I just need you so bad.” He was shaking to have her in his arms and in his room.

When he brought his mouth back to hers his hips pressed against her and she moved her hand down to his sweatpants and dipped a finger under the elastic band to feel his happy trail under her nails. He whined into her mouth and she smiled.

She had wanted to give him a blow job so badly all day. Which was unusual for her. She didn’t mind giving blow jobs but with Harry, the way he’d moan and whimper and beg her… she just loved how responsive he was to her.

“Let me suck you off. I want you in my mouth.” It was all she could think about when she drove across the city to go to him.

Harry’s chest was on fire and his heart was ravaging his ribs as she pulled his pants down and dropped to her knees. She spit on his tip and took him down her throat and focused her eyes up to him.

“Fuck, Y/n. I’m gonna come so fast. I’m sorry…” he frowned as he whined his words and carded his fingers into her hair. She bobbed up and down, slippery and warm on his cock, sucking and using her tongue to circle and slither over his skin the way he loved.

She just needed to show him how she was feeling. How much she missed him. Harry was so much more vocal than she was about how he felt and how much he needed her when they spoke on the phone. She kept her feelings a little closer to her heart. Not revealing as much but giving him bits and pieces. She wanted to tell him how much she missed him too but she also wanted to do the right thing in guarding his heart.

Of course, doing the right thing, well, they were way past that, she reasoned as she dipped down over him further and tasted the precome pushing out through his slit. They were so far beyond doing the right thing it shouldn’t have mattered. But she did want to protect him in some way and by not revealing that she missed him just as much as he missed her she thought he might be able to deal with the distance better.

In truth, she had no idea what she was doing. She’d never done anything like it before. She just hoped that at the end of whatever they were doing, they’d both be okay.

Harry groaned as he rolled his hips gently into her, his pink lips dropped open watching her mouth stretch around him, drool dripping down her neck, her eyes blinking up at him.

“Please… oh my god…” Harry gasped when she brought her lips up and suckled his tip, her tongue swirling and lapping just under his frenulum.

He came so fast it was embarrassing. She always did it to him. Always had him shaking and giving in to her so quickly. He didn’t know how she did it. Not even fucking his own hand was as quick. He was convinced it was some kind of sorcery she used on him but he knew what it was. He knew that she just did it for him like no one else did. He’d watched porn with hot women but none came close to how hot he thought Y/n was. No girl he’d ever met and dated or did anything sexual with at all did it for him the way Y/n did it for him. Her voice and her eyes and her confidence. He’d never been in love but if he were to fall for someone, if he wasn’t already, it would be for her.

Harry choked out a moan and his knees buckled the slightest as he throbbed and pumped hot come down her throat. She slurped and sucked it all down with her hands holding onto his ass, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck!” He shouted when she pulled on his cock particularly hard to milk the last drop from him and then he laughed, his chest heaving.

A heavy knock cracked on his door, “All right in there Styles?” A male’s voice teased from behind the door.

Harry took a deep breath as Y/n pulled her lips off of his cock, “Fine. Thanks.” Harry shouted, not taking his eyes off his lover.

The pair lay in Harry’s full-sized bed with the radio on chatting about nothing. Harry had his arms wrapped around her middle with his head on her hip. He was like a big teddy bear that constantly wanted to be held and near to her. He just wanted to touch her and look at her. She loved how warm and touchy he was. Loved that he needed to physically be next to her when they were together.

“Tomorrow’s the party?” He hesitated to ask but couldn’t help himself.

“Yeah. Tomorrow. Got fitted for my dress earlier today. What did you do today, Harry?” It seemed like every time they were alone together and having a conversation they were lying and assembled jointly in one way or another with Harry squeezing her tight while she combed her fingers through his hair. It was maybe the best feeling she’d ever had with a lover. Ever. It was gentle and kind. Loving. Like there was no rush or reason to do anything other than to look at one another and be near to one another. Touching, smiling, kissing.

Harry had one class only and he finished an assignment due on Monday so he was ahead of schedule. The studious young man that he was.

“Hate that we can’t celebrate Valentine’s Day together,” Harry lifted himself to sit up, causing Y/n’s hands to fall away from his hair. His sudden change in demeanor had caught her off guard.

She pulled at his hand and sat up, “I know. I hate it too, Harry.”

“Do you hate it? Or are you just saying that so I feel better about all this?”

She squinted her eyes at him and shook her head, “What do you mean by that? Of course, I wish we could spend it together.”

Harry stood up from the bed and walked to his small kitchenette to grab a bottle of water, uncapping the lid and chugging a big gulp before turning and lifting the bottle, “Want some water?”

Y/n climbed off the bed and slowly walked toward Harry. Not understanding the mood change, “No. I’m okay right now. Thank you. But please continue with the previous thought. Explain what’s going on in your head.”

“I’m just…” he shook his head and sighed and walked past her to sit on the edge of his bed. “I don’t know. I know what this is. You and me. But feels like it’s just me who really wants more. Feels like, you’re doing just fine. You know?” He looked up at her as she followed him to where he was sat on the bed.

“No. I don’t know. You think I’m not just as excited to see you as you are me?” She stepped herself in between his legs and brushed her fingers over his forehead and into his hair. Perhaps she should start being more open with him about her feelings. But then again, that could make things even worse in the long run.

“No,” he laughed incredulously. “I don’t think you are. You don’t understand how I feel. How much I want you. And it’s not fair for me to feel this way because I knew all along what this was. But I can’t help it.”

Pausing her hand in his hair, she pulled her fingers out and nudged at his chin so he’d look up at her, “Where’s this coming from? You know how much I like you, Harry. You’re all I can think about.”

He searched her pretty face as she stood over him and shook his head, “You don’t understand how I feel. You don’t feel the same way I feel for you.”

She stepped away and rubbed her hands down her face. She couldn’t force him to believe her but she was sure she was feeling just the way he was. The intense longing she felt for him for the last three days told her as much.

“What do you want me to do, Harry? Should I leave, Leo? You and me, we can just run off into the sunset and never turn back? Will that prove to you how I feel?”

Harry stood up and paced from the kitchenette to his window and back, “You won’t though. I know it. You won’t leave my dad. You don’t have the balls to do that. You need his money and that big house and that huge ring you’re wearing…”

Y/n looked down at her wedding ring and felt a blanket of shame cover her body and pool around her feet as he continued.

“You wouldn’t do that because if you do that then you’ll be stuck with a boy. I can’t provide for you and buy you a nice car or take you on lavish vacations. I can’t compete with my dad on any level.”

Shaking her head as he spoke she was feeling insulted. A bit angry. But she knew he was speaking from a place of hurt.

“Harry…” she approached him and put her palms over his chest and looked up at him, “Stop. I’m here with you because my feelings for you are far greater than I can really even comprehend. You don’t need to compete with Leo or anyone. You’re better than anyone I’ve ever met. You can choose not to believe me but I’m here with you because I couldn’t be away from you a moment longer. I missed you. I needed you.”

He pulled his lips into his mouth as she spoke.

“Do you hear me? Harry I… I want to be so careful with you because you’re so special to me. I…” she sighed and looked up into his big green eyes, her hands traveling up his neck to keep his attention on her, “I want you. You’re better than your dad. To me, you are. I’ve missed being with someone I’ve felt this way for. As for your dad? I don’t feel this way. Harry, you are… god…” she started to tear up as she spoke. Unable to finish her thought as he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight.

“I’m sorry I said those things. I’m just so jealous and I hate this. I don’t think you’re that way. I know you’re better than that. It was rude for me to say that.” He spoke into her hair.

He felt ridiculous. Harry could be emotional. He tended to allow his sensitive nature to get the best of him at times and this was one of them. He hated that he’d insulted her the way he did but it just fell out of his mouth before he could think. He wished he could take it back.

“I know, baby. I know you didn’t mean it. I know you know me better than that.”

Harry pushed his mouth to hers in haste. His emotions were too much to handle. He couldn’t talk anymore or he’d just get worked up again. He didn’t know how he was going to stay sane the following evening while Y/n was spending Valentine’s Day with another man.

His forceful kiss to her mouth was met with a pinch to her hips as he pushed her back into his bed. “Need you…” he breathed against her lips as he pulled her shirt off and she settled onto the bed and scooted back as he crawled after her, putting his fingers into the band of her shorts and pulling them down.

She wore the sweetest little lacy pink bra with a tiny bow at the center and matching panties that barely covered anything. When he caught sight of what she’d worn under her clothes he thought he could cry again. Had she done this for him?

In fact, she had. After getting fitted for her party dress she stopped at La Perla and picked out the little set. The bra didn’t give her much support but it wasn’t meant to be practical. It was meant to be sweet and pretty. She looked through the various shades and fabrics and tried on strappy pieces with black leather and soft white lace. She put on a bright red bra and thong set she wound up buying, but the pink lace with bows and delicate straps reminded her of Harry. How soft and intimate it looked. So pure and sheer but sexy. And when she put it on all she could think of was how it matched his lovely personality. His tenderness. The way he was so delicate with her and how big his heart was. It felt like what he’d pick for her if he were with her.

“Do you like it?” She smiled at him as he let his fingertips brush over the little bows at her hips and the lace along the edge and up her tummy to the bralette where her tits were spilling out the smallest bit.

“I fucking love it. Y/n,” he looked up at her with a pained face, brows scrunched, and shiny eyes. “You’re… so pretty. Prettiest woman I’ve ever seen and, god,” he pushed his thumb into the fabric that covered her breast and poked at her nipple, “More than just pretty. You’re phenomenal. In every way.”

She hadn’t expected him to give her this response. She knew he’d probably like it. Figured he’d give her some attention while she was wearing it and then he’d want it off but to see his eyes tear up was unexpected.

She cupped his cheek with her palm and spoke quietly, “I bought it for you. I’m really glad you like it.”

Harry let out a shaky breath as he caged her in, arms on either side of her waist, and then scooped her into his arms, holding her tight to him, “Fuck. You’ve got my head spinning, Y/n.”

She let him take the lead. He eventually pushed his boxers down and insisted she keep the set on while he made love to her. He said that. Love. She got hot and felt herself begin to get emotional at his words and his soft touches.

“Keep it on,” he put his hand over hers before she could push the pink fabric down her hips, “Want to make love to you while you’re in this. Show you how much I appreciate the gift.”

And show her his appreciation he did. He pulled the material to the side gently and licked at her until he was so hard it ached and he began whining, not able to handle not being inside of her any longer.

He slowly pushed her legs apart and dragged his nose and lips up from her hips to her tits and then to her neck before sneaking a hand down to keep the crotch to the side as he slowly pushed into her. Always loving and craving the initial plunge. The little muscle at her entry stretching wide open for him.

The bed in his room was squeaky. It wasn’t as sturdy as the one in his room at Leo’s house but with the way he was fucking into her slowly, long and deep strokes, there wasn’t too much of a racket. The slow bounce of the mattress springs was all that could really be heard over the radio. A few moans and soft gasps.

Harry went from watching her face as he bottomed out, stuffing himself into her as far as he could reach, to kissing her while slowly rolling his hips into her.

He could feel the lace on his shaft as he thrusted, and he enjoyed the way it irritated the smooth, velvety skin on his cock. He hoped it left a mark. One to match the mark she’d left on his heart.

“Harry…” she breathed his name as he looked deep into her eyes. It felt so intense this way with him. He was moving into her so slowly but pushing in so deep her toes curled every time his balls were tucked up to her bottom, “I need you…” she panted as she scratched her nails down his back.

He began to shake with the way his heart was pumping so hard. His mind was a blur and the wetness between them felt so warm and perfect that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to recover from the moment. She went to visit him. She wore something special just for him. She said she needed him.

And it was too much to verbalize exactly how he felt. He wasn’t quite in control of his thoughts in that moment as he kissed her mouth and plunged into her as she panted and licked her tongue against his. “Y/n… please stay with me,” his teeth were clenched as he spoke the words on accident. It was only meant to stay in his head, that statement. But it came out and he gasped when she lifted her legs to wrap around his back and pressed her heels into his ass to push him in deeper.

“I’m here with you all night, baby,” she spoke against his lip.

Harry moaned and pushed himself so he could look down at her, never ceasing his movements into her, “I mean stay with me. Be with me. Me and you,” he dipped down to kiss her again feeling the heat of ecstasy travel up his spine.

“I want to stay with you,” her words were breaths against his lips. It was the only way she knew how to respond. Because she couldn’t stay with him like he suggested and he knew that. But she could tell him that she wanted to.

The bed under her slowly gave way to their weight with Harry’s hips pressed against hers every time he bottomed out and it was giving her the perfect friction. His lips on hers and puffs of breath from his nose made her feel like she was encased in him. It was all she wanted.

“You feel so good, baby. I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me come…” she whined as she felt him tremble and his hips began to roll a bit faster. She could feel that he was just as close as she was.

Harry lifted up again to look down at her, never ceasing the decadent roll of his hips, “Want to watch it. Want to see how you look when you come on my cock,” he whispered over her.

His eyes were dark with lust but the tip of his nose was red as if he’d just been crying. Perhaps he had been.

“Yes baby, yes… yes… yes…” his deep plunges through her insides and pushing her walls apart had her knocked upward over and over. He kept himself deep inside, never pulling back, only fucking into her so that his tip could get into her deep, so she could feel him inside of her tummy and pressing into all her parts, claiming them as his.

They rocked together, Harry’s thighs working himself into her slowly and deeply until her release finally snapped and she moaned loudly.

“Don’t look away, please, look at me,” Harry gasped as he felt her begin to spasm around him. She brought her gaze back to his and her orgasm exploded at the look on his face. He came the moment she looked back at him. Both of them forced themselves to keep their eyes open to watch as the other came from their connected bodies. Harry’s deep groans and raspy, breathy whines met with Y/n’s soft coos and choked moans. He was so deep inside of her, pressing himself even deeper as he poured into her, letting his come coat her insides in ownership. He wanted to make her his.

A sick and twisted little part of his brain hoped her implant wouldn’t work this time. That he could knock her up and she would have to leave Leo and then she’d be his and he could have her. Keep her.

“Fuck, baby…” she yelped when he gave her one last rough push. Wanting that little bit to just make a difference somehow.

Harry kept his eyes on hers and he watched her features relax and she smiled, bringing a hand up to his face, “You’re amazing, Harry. The best I’ve ever had.”

His grin was tranquil and flirtatious. She loved his cheek. His confidence. She also loved his softness and how sensitive he was. It was the best of both worlds and she never realized she’d need it so much in a lover.

“Yeah? I keep hearing you say that and I think I’m gonna start believing it soon.”

She laughed with her thumb at his temple, softly rubbing the skin next to his eyes, “You should just believe me when I say it. Take my word for it.”

It was true. She felt so connected to him. So deeply intertwined that she was positive there was no one better. No one who could make her feel like he did.

Y/n had told Leo she was with Gina. That she’d been at the spa with her and got waxed and ready for the party and had too many glasses of wine so she couldn’t drive home. That was her excuse as to why she couldn’t come home Thursday evening when she was spending it with his son.

And Harry didn’t have classes on Fridays so they slept in until nearly 10 am before Y/n realized she needed to go and actually get waxed otherwise Leo would realize she’d lied to him. And it was going to be a last-minute thing anywhere she could get in without an appointment so she knew she had to get going with the party starting at 5. She also still had to go pick up her dress after the final alterations were complete.

It was always the same, leaving him. He didn’t want her to go. She didn’t want to go. But it was necessary. And she left the sweet little pink set behind to keep in his room, “This is just for you to see. Not for anyone else. Okay?” She said when she put the fabric on his bed before kissing him goodbye and leaving.

.           .           .

Harry loved that Y/n came to visit him. It felt like they were a couple when they were alone together. He could see them being together. Imagined it all the time. But he knew the deal. She wasn’t his. Though, she did tell him some things that made him feel like she was at least, in part, his. But that didn’t change the reality.

He was spending Valentine’s Day by himself. He had a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle bourbon his dad got him for his birthday. He fully intended to treat the $300 bottle kindly. It was meant to be sipped slowly. Enjoyed for a special occasion. But when he thought of how Y/n was on his dad’s arm, probably at that very moment, accompanying him to a Valentine’s Day party, thought about how his dad didn’t care for her the way he did, didn’t cherish her and dream about her and stop himself in the middle of a mundane task to smile as his heart throbbed when he imagined her smile and her laugh. That his dad was fucking someone else who lived nearby and took her on a weekend away with him… How could any sane man want to be with anyone else once they had Y/n? Harry couldn’t imagine it. Couldn’t fathom it.

“Fuck it,” he spoke to himself as he got up and crossed the room to pull the bottle out of the cabinet. He grabbed a glass and looked down at it before deciding he was going to just drink straight from the bottle. The highest form of disrespect for such a sought-after bourbon. A middle finger to his dad. And to the entire situation he was in really.

Placing the glass back in the cupboard he picked up the bottle at the neck and brought the 90-proof liquor with him to the small couch that sat across from his television.

Harry wasn’t much of a drinker. He’d had alcohol a good handful of times but usually at frat parties where it was provided for him. And he certainly never drank alone.

Peeling the foil off the cap and tossing it to the floor, he pulled the top and cork out of the bottle and placed it on the coffee table in front of himself.

He didn’t have anywhere to be the following morning so that was good, he figured. Better to have the morning open in case of a hangover. And he’d have all day Sunday to finish his homework.

And with that thought, he leaned forward to grab the bottle, brought the opening of the neck to his lips, and took his first pull of the evening.

.           .           .

Y/n was wearing her newly altered peach silk dress. The alterations were simple. The straps and hem were adjusted and the back column was dropped down a bit to drape to her low back. Her strappy nude heels were well-worn but comfortable because she was just simply not in the mood to wear the stiff, new heels she’d just bought.

The estate of Rebecca Manera was impressive. Probably equally as impressive as Leonardo Styles’. Most of the guests had already arrived by the time the Styles’ walked through the front door a little late.

Leo had scolded Y/n for taking so long to get ready and making them run behind but in all honesty, she didn’t give a fuck. They could be half an hour late. No one would care. Why rush to go to a party? It’s not like they needed to clock in and earn a paycheck.

“It’s rude, Y/n. That’s why it matters. You’re so goddamn rude sometimes. You only think about yourself.”

She turned sharply to look at her husband in shock. That was the first time he’d ever said such a thing to her. Normally he had no opinion on how she conducted herself. She was chronically late. Yes, she could admit that was a flaw in her character but she was on time when it really counted. But to get so worked up over a party? And to insult her on top of it?

That had set the whole mood for the night. And now she was even more suspicious about this Rebecca.

But when Rebecca did make her appearance and introduced herself to Y/n she was taken aback. The woman had to be in her 50s. She was pretty, sure, but not quite Leo’s type. If Y/n were any sort of indicator of a type.

Waiters walked around with trays and served the couples in attendance. There were only ten couples there as well as Rebecca’s two daughters, Y/n learned. Quite the intimate affair really.

Leo brought a glass of wine to Y/n as she chatted with Mrs. Topman (she never learned her first name, as the woman literally introduced herself as Mrs. Topman).

“Here you are darling.” His green eyes shined down at her before searching the room casually. She was on to Leo. But she found it odd that the woman he was with in the Hamptons was Rebecca. She was intrigued.

She watched Rebecca mingle and sip wine and laugh and there was nothing there that made Y/n think Leo would be interested in her sexually. But maybe that was it, Y/n thought to herself as she cocked her head to the side watching the woman speak boisterously. Maybe it wasn’t sexual. Maybe it was a woman he felt a deeper connection with than he did with Y/n. Perhaps it hadn’t started sexual but led there.

The snack table was set up with decadent treats. Y/n picked up a toast smeared with something pink, topped with heart-shaped tomatoes on top as she scanned the room for Leo, wondering where he’d gone off to. It hadn’t been that long but knowing about Rebecca being with him made things feel like she was in some kind of true crime detective story and was trying to get to the bottom of a mystery. Though there was no crime being committed, she could entertain herself with that thought.

“Are you enjoying your time tonight?”

Y/n turned her sight to Rebecca who was next to her picking up the same toast with pink schmear.

“It’s amazing. Your home is so lovely, Mrs. Manera,” she smiled and noted the woman’s massive diamond ring in addition to her massive diamond wedding ring.

“Why thank you. Phineas has put in so much work to make this large shell into a lovely cozy home.”

Y/n nearly spat her bite out. The home was anything but cozy.

“It’s incredible. Where is Mr. Manera tonight?”

“Oh, just over there,” she pointed to a man in tweed with thick black-framed glasses, “You haven’t met yet?”

Rebecca led the way as Y/n walked in her wake to meet Mr. Manera. She had still not spotted her own husband.

“Phineas, dear, this is Mrs. Styles. Leonardo’s wife.”

The man held his hand out, “Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Styles.”

“Likewise. You can call me Y/n.”

 “Well, Y/n. We’re happy to have you here. Where’s Leo anyway? Haven’t seen him.”

Turning around quickly to look over her shoulder she shrugged and faced the man and his wife again, “Not sure actually. I haven’t seen him in a bit myself,” she laughed. And before she could even think about what she was implying she spoke to Rebecca, “But I’m sure you’ve seen enough of him since you saw him in the Hampton’s this weekend.”

Rebecca and Phineas’ smiles dropped as they looked at one another and then back to Y/n, “I haven’t been to the Hamptons in over a decade. Are you sure you’re not mistaking me for Parker? Our daughter? She was just there all weekend with her girlfriends.”

She blinked her eyes and looked between the pair and cocked her head, “Oh. I’m sorry. I must be mistaken. I thought Leo said…” She shook her head not wanting to finish that sentence. It dawned on her that Leo had been with their daughter. Parker. Or, at least that’s what it was starting to look like. An interesting turn of events.

And it wasn’t much longer after that small discovery that Y/n spotted her husband. He was holding a glass of wine and speaking with a couple, laughing casually and acting as if he hadn’t been missing for nearly thirty minutes.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Y/n squeezed his arm as she took her place next to him.

Leo looked down at his wife and grinned, “Oh? I’ve been around. Here and there. I did go outside for a bit to get some air.”

Liar.

As cold and closed off as Leo could be, she knew when he wasn’t being forthright with her. But she wouldn’t call him out on any of it. How could she? She’d keep the information close to her chest. Something to hang onto for another day. She was curious about Parker, though. Not sure which of the two daughters she was. She’d only met one but never got the young lady’s name as there was another woman talking Y/n’s ear off. That daughter had been quite young, though. Harry’s age. Y/n knew the other daughter was closer to Y/n’s age.

Another three glasses of wine and a slow song with some lovey-dovey lyrics had Y/n feeling a bit sentimental. She was wishing Harry was there. Wishing she could catch his eyes from across the room. Wishing she could pull him into a corner and kiss his warm mouth and run her fingers through his curls.

It wasn’t as if the party was boring or anything. Well… okay. It was quite boring. It was just a bunch of rich people in a massive house worth millions drinking expensive wine, wearing expensive clothes, and pretending to care about what was going on around them.

Y/n watched as Leo’s eyes followed a pretty brunette with a slim nose and a long neck traipse across the room toward the bar for another glass of wine. The young woman looked to be Y/n’s age. Perhaps even a little older. She was very pretty. Her dress was flattering and she had a slim waist and curvy hips. This one- this one, Y/n thought, was more Leo’s taste.

Maybe it was the four glasses of wine or maybe it was just her natural penchant to be outspoken and assertive, but she decided to introduce herself to the woman. Find out her name. Look into her eyes and determine if this woman had actually been with her husband all weekend.

Y/n wasn’t necessarily jealous. She did feel a bit betrayed though. Her husband had lied to her in some way. She knew that much. Knew that he’d been talking to someone on the phone in hushed tones as Harry told her he’d overheard his dad. Knew that a woman had chirped excitedly next to him when he’d been on the phone with her while he was in the Hamptons and that Leo sounded like he was quickly trying to think of a reason why there’d be a woman there when he mentioned the Valentine’s Day party.

Rebecca was a great cover. She was in her 50s and he thought that once Y/n laid eyes on her all her questions would be quashed and she’d forget all about it. But he hadn’t anticipated Y/n to open her mouth and mention the Hamptons to Mrs. Manera.

“Hi,” Y/n sidled up to the brunette, “I’m Y/n Styles. I don’t think we’ve met yet.” She motioned to the bartender for another glass of wine. Probably a bad idea. She would certainly feel five glasses in the morning.

The young woman gave herself away immediately as her eyes widened and she opened her mouth for a moment, searching the room quickly before returning her sights to Y/n, “Uh… oh, hi! I’m Parker Manera, Phin and Rebecca’s daughter.”

Y/n watched her nervously sit her glass down and wipe her hands down her expensive dress and then pick her glass up again before shifting on her feet with a forced smile on her face.

“Oh! You’re Parker. Your mom and dad were just telling me about how you were in the Hamptons all weekend. It’s such a small world,” she laughed lightly and placed her free hand at her hip in a show of confidence, “My husband Leo was there last weekend too. What a funny coincidence.” She smiled widely as she kept her eyes on Parker’s.

The poor thing swallowed harshly and looked down at her glass before letting her eyes dart around the room again, most likely in search of Leo, “Oh. Yeah. Uh… huh…” She took a sip of her wine and then looked at Y/n, “Yeah, that is a coincidence.”

.           .           .

Harry was trying to pay attention to his best friend as he gave him a pep talk. But it was useless. He couldn’t ever understand what Harry was going through and he had no idea that he’d been sleeping with his stepmom.

“Don’t worry man. Not every Valentine’s Day is going to be spent alone like this. You’re still young, dude!” Tyler said, trying to cheer him up. Only Tyler didn’t realize what Harry’s real issue was. He just thought Harry was depressed because he was still single and a virgin.

Harry had called Tyler and asked him to come over to share the bottle of bourbon with him. He realized early on that he would not be able to drink the whole bottle alone, nor did he want to.

“I know. Just feels shitty. You know my dad and Y/n are at a party tonight. With a bunch of other assholes probably. Sounds so boring. Would hate to spend a romantic day out with rich assholes.” Harry was only on his third glass of whisky but the stuff was strong and he was feeling the alcohol burning in his gut and winding through his veins, impairing his thoughts and his emotions.

Tyler laughed, “Yeah, but after their boring night out they can go home and shag. Unless your dad’s too old for that,” Tyler joked before taking a healthy swig and looking at the TV that was on as background noise.

Harry frowned and felt himself nearly gag at the thought. That was exactly the kind of thing he was trying not to think about, “What’s wrong with you? You’re a dick sometimes you know that?”

“Sorry. You probably don’t want to think about your dad fucking your hot stepmom do you?” He teased.

Only it wasn’t funny to Harry. Not at all. He was spiraling and he’d called his friend as a distraction yet here they were discussing a topic that was a punch to the gut and had Harry surging with jealousy and hurt.

“Shut the fuck up, man. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry barked and stood up from the couch to pace his room, “I fucking hate this!” He ran his hands into his hair and felt his anger peak.

“Whoa. Okay. Sorry dude. Wasn’t trying to get you upset. It was a joke.”

“Yeah? But it’s not a joke. That’s what’s gonna happen. She’s gonna go back home with my prick of a dad and fuck him. Because it’s Valentine’s Day. And that’s what couples do on Valentine’s Day.”

Tyler looked at Harry in confusion as Harry pulled at his roots and sniffed, his nose red and his eyes bloodshot, “She’s fucking him and she’s not even… Goddamnit!”

“What’s going on Harry? Are you okay?” His friend stood up, suddenly aware that Harry was not doing well at all.

“No. I’m not fucking okay,” he sighed and shook his head before looking at his friend, “I’ve… you can’t say anything to anyone, okay?” He continued pacing.

Tyler nodded, still standing up, not moving from his spot, “Of course. You know any secret you have is safe with me.”

Harry stopped his restless motions and dropped his arms by his side, “Y/n and I… we’ve been seeing each other,” he looked down before he could watch Tyler’s expression. “We’ve been sleeping together.”

Tyler’s silence indicated his shock. He had not been expecting to hear that from Harry. All the times they’d teased him about getting with her they were just kidding. No one ever thought that it would actually happen.

Harry resumed his confession, “And it’s been really good. We like each other too. My dad’s a dick. He’s sleeping with another woman. Which is allowed, but… nah… that’s a long story. I’m,” Harry looked directly back at his friend and approached the couch before plopping down heavily over the cushions, “fucking sad. I’m a mess over it.”

Tyler sat down next to his friend and nodded, “So you and Y/n. And that means you’re not a virgin? She’s the one that…” his words faded out, letting the context fill in the blanks.

Harry nodded, “Yeah.”

“Well, fuck man. I’m sorry. Here,” Tyler leaned forward and grasped the bottle, handing it to Harry, “sounds like you need some more of this.”

.           .           .

Y/n wasn’t mad. Not at all. Nor jealous. But she would keep this information tucked away for a rainy day perhaps. Or maybe it would never be brought up. It did, however, make her feel a bit less guilty for her own insolence.

And she wondered what he had been up to when he disappeared. She imagined that he’d been with Parker. Doing what exactly? Well, she had some ideas about the nature of what they were doing. In fact, part of her did hope maybe he’d gotten his needs taken care of. Hoped that he wouldn’t want anything from her that evening because she was completely satisfied with how well she’d been treated just that very morning by Harry.

That was only going to get trickier as time went on. The more time she spent with Harry, the less she wanted to spend any time with Leo. And she was still irked at him for the comment he made to her before they left for the party. She planned to use that as an excuse for not having sex with him if he tried to initiate. But excuses would dwindle eventually. She couldn’t keep pushing off sex with her husband.

She and Leo said their goodbyes as everyone began to leave the party as normal. Most people were grabbing their jackets and purses and Y/n was shaking Phineas' hand when Leo leaned into Y/n and spoke quietly, “I’ll be right back, dear. Wait for me in the car.”

Fifteen minutes. She waited for 15 minutes for her husband and she knew what he was up to. Or at least in part. And that­­­­­– that did piss her off. The disrespect of it. She shot off a quick text to Harry wishing she was with him. Wishing she could just drive her husband’s car to Harry’s dorm and stay with him for the night. Finish off her Valentine’s Day properly.

Are you awake still?

It was almost midnight and a Friday night so she assumed he would be awake but by the time Leo made it to the car, Harry still hadn’t seen the text yet.

“What were you doing, Leo?” Y/n looked at his side profile as he began to drive down the long driveway to the gate to exit.

“I had to use the bathroom,” he placed his palm over his stomach and blew out a big, dramatic breath. “Think I ate too many crab cakes.”

Another lie. But also something to bring up should he want anything intimate from her tonight. A stomachache was an automatic no for sex.

“Let me drive, then. If you’re not feeling well that could be dangerous.” She didn’t mind playing dumb.

“Oh, it’s okay. I took some Pepto Rebecca offered me and I think I’ll be okay.”

“Okay. Good. That was nice of her. She was lovely to chat with. I really enjoyed the party. Phineas is also a hoot,” she exaggerated with a smiley tone. “Oh, and their daughters!” Y/n turned to watch his face as she continued, “What’s the younger one’s name again?”

“I think it’s Iris. No, Ivy. I think Ivy.” He answered as he nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.

“And then their older daughter, Piper. She was–“

“Parker.” Leo interrupted.

He took the bait and he didn’t even know it.

“What?” Y/n acted confused.

“Her name is Parker. You said Piper. I was just correcting you.”

Y/n smiled to herself, “Oh. I really thought she told me Piper. But I guess you’d know better than me.”

Leo’s body language did not change whatsoever. He was cool as a cucumber but man was he dumb. He didn’t have to act differently for her to know he was lying straight to her face. No, his answers gave him away.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Parker was really sweet. Talked about what we did last weekend. I told her all about the girls and how we go out for girl’s night every other Friday. Even invited her to come to our next one.” She lied.

She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, “Why’d you do that?” He turned to glance at her before looking back to the road.

Y/n couldn’t stop smiling. She was just having a bit of fun. It was also most definitely the five glasses of wine she’d had, “Because I like her! She’s my age and I feel like we have a lot in common. Oh! And it’s so funny, Leo. You won’t believe this! She was also in the Hamptons last weekend! And it’s wild that she had no idea that her mom was there when I told her that you saw Rebecca while you were there,” she shook her head dramatically and laughed. “Crazy.”

His jaw clenched but he remained quiet. Perhaps she’d taken it a bit too far. Now maybe she’d just given away that she knew something. But she just shrugged and turned to look out the window. She couldn’t wait for her bed. She just hoped that Harry would give her a goodnight text before she went to sleep like he usually did.

But he didn’t. She showered and plugged her phone in and checked her messages and still nothing.

Y/n was thankful Leo didn’t seem interested in having sex. She silently thanked Parker for a job well done as her head hit the pillow and she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

Sensing light through her eyelids, she slowly blinked her eyes open. It took a moment to climb out of her wine-induced groggy haze but when she realized it was her cellphone she quickly rolled to her side to reach for it.

“Hello?” She spoke quietly and sat up against her pillows.

“Sound so pretty,” Harry’s words were watery and disconnected. “You with my dad?”

Y/n knew right away he was drunk. She grinned and shook her head as she responded, “No. I’m in my room. Where are you?” She was just happy to hear his voice, despite him being inebriated.

“My room. Tyler’s passed out. Drank some whisky so I didn’t have to think about you and my dad fucking. Didn’t work.”

The grin fell from her face, “What? Harry, we didn’t. But–“

“Bet you did. Probably trying to just make me feel good,” his speech was difficult to understand as his tongue seemed to be getting in the way, but she could clearly interpret his bitter tone.

“You should get some sleep. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“So you can go back to having sex with another man?”

“Stop it, Harry. I was asleep just now. In my own room. We can talk in the morning when you’ve sobered up.” Her voice was quiet as she spoke into the receiver.

As much wine as she’d had at the party, Harry had clearly had a lot more alcohol in his system.

“F’course. Would hate to disturb you. Just a nuisance to you anyway…” his volume dropped as his words trailed off.

“You’re not a nuisance to me. It’s why I answered. Was excited to hear your voice. Now, go to sleep, Harry. Okay? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He actually probably would not feel better in the morning if his current state was any indicator.

The phone was silent but she could still hear him rustling around, sniffing, “Harry?”

“Y/n.” He said mockingly.

“Are you okay?” She knew she should probably just hang up but didn’t want to make things worse.

“No. I’m not.”

“I think you worry too much. You should go to sleep, baby.”

“Mmm… Sounds so nice. But I think it’s not fair is it?”

Y/n sighed and held her phone out to see what time it was before putting the receiver back to her ear, “What’s not fair?”

“You can fuck other people. You do too. You’re fucking my dad. I should go be able to fuck other people too if I want. Tyler told me I should.”

Y/n gulped down the upset and tried to keep herself level. He was drunk and not thinking straight. And the comment about Tyler had her wondering if his friend knew about their affair.

“Let’s discuss it when you’re feeling better tomorrow. You’re drunk, Harry. I don’t think this conversation will go anywhere good if we keep talking while you’re so upset.”

“Should have known. Yeah. We’ll see.”

Y/n opened her mouth to respond but he’d hung up. She heard the click and then the silence of her room enveloped her completely as her phone went dark with the ended call.

It was nearly 3:30 in the morning and lying back into her bed and closing her eyes did not bring sleep like she hoped. Instead, her mind went into overdrive considering all the things Harry had said.

And he was right. He should be allowed to do as he pleased. To sleep with others. He should. It would be healthier for him. For her. What they were doing was a mistake. It wasn’t going to end well and Harry’s words rang in her head for hours.

She hated the idea of him sleeping with anyone else but that was not fair. How could she expect him to only sleep with her when she was married to his father and sleeping with him? Though she hadn’t slept with Leo since before she and Harry started their affair. Still. At some point, Leo would expect something and she’d need to give him something.

So, instead of sleeping, she wound up writing in her journal with a mug of Ceylon, hot ginger, and lemon tea. She wrote down her feelings and the things she’d tell Harry. The things that needed to be said.

They couldn’t continue on as they were. They were both going to get hurt and she didn’t want to imagine hurting Harry more than he was. She could tell this was hurting him. When she’d seen him Thursday night he expressed some hurt feelings.

And as hard as it would be, she had to break it off. Had to end their affair because they would both only get more attached. The sooner the better.

He’d hate it. He’d fight her on it, she just knew it. He’d plead with her. He’d say something that would make her waver. Make her want to just give in and let him have his way. But it wasn’t healthy. It was a relationship that could never be revealed. His father couldn’t know. And the thought of leaving her current situation to be with Harry felt ridiculous.

Yes. It was ridiculous. Because she was 27 and he had just turned 21. And he was her stepson. Ridiculous to consider leaving Leo because then what? Harry might not even feel the same way for her in six months. A year. Five years. And she’d be back to square one because leaving Leo meant leaving everything he’d given her behind. Of course, there was a prenup involved in their marriage. That had been the plan all along. She knew going into it that this was how it would be. Should they ever divorce, she gets nothing really. As it should be, she surmised. She wasn’t entitled to anything from Leo if the arrangement was called off. She would have nothing.

She had no career. No money of her own. Very few things she’d bought herself.

Her mother would just say I told you so. Which would be well deserved.

So to stop their little thing as soon as possible was better than waiting until it all blew up in their faces. She hated the thought of not being able to kiss him or chat with him about personal and private things only a lover should know. She’d miss his flirtatious banter and the little pinches he gave her skin when he wanted her attention. It would be hard to wake up every morning knowing she’d never have someone warm and kind to wake up with. His scent. His eyes. His hair. His fingers. His voice.

She scribbled her thoughts and a tear fell onto the page she was pouring her thoughts into.

She didn’t want to do it. She wanted to keep him and have him to herself. Enjoy the secret, private relationship that had maybe been the best she’d ever had. But that was the part that needed to come to an end. Their secret affair would be exposed or Harry would get hurt (and so would she). He was already hurting. It was already hard and they hadn’t been at it for that long. She imagined the longer they continued the worse it would be for Harry. His soft heart would continue to break in front of her and their whole relationship would be based around the sadness and the turmoil and the secrets. It was healthy for no one.

When the pale light from the sun began to stretch into her room she put her journal down and texted Marla. It was early. Maybe a bit too early, even for Marla.

But she needed someone to talk to. Someone to help her straighten out her mind. She was feeling selfish, angry, hurt, and most of all, her heart was being squeezed with a vice in her chest and it was hard to breathe. Hard to think straight.

When you wake up will you please call me?

Her tea was barely touched. It had gone cold and because she forgot to pull the bag out it had also turned bitter. She winced at the taste and placed the mug down on her side table. That seemed to be an appropriate illustration of how her life was going at the moment. She hadn’t taken care to make sure the tea was tasty and done correctly and now it couldn’t be salvaged. A perfectly fine cup of tea to waste.

Y/n felt her phone vibrate and she plucked it up quickly to answer. It was Marla.

“Morning. Thank you for calling me.”

“Of course. Everything okay?”

Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, not wanting to begin crying again, “Not really. Went to a party with Leo last night. Learned he’s been seeing another woman my age, though the issue is that he brought her to the Hamptons last weekend and lied to me about it. Told me the girl’s mother was there with him. And it was just a weird night. So, there’s that. But then Harry called me in the middle of the night, completely wasted,” she went on with the story and what was said, barely taking a breath to pause as Marla listened closely.

“So, I need to just end it with him. Before he really gets hurt. Before I can’t let him go. Because that’s for the best. But now I’m also worried about this Parker girl. If Leo’s been seeing her frequently and taking her on vacations with him then I don’t know what that means for me either. What if I break up with Harry and then Leo wants a divorce because he’s fallen in love with Parker? I don’t care that he’s with her. But my concerns about it are mostly just selfish. I don’t know what to do. I honestly feel like the worst person in the world. I’m selfish and I’m in the middle of this strange affair. I know I need to break it off.”

Marla had listened quietly and hummed affirmatively throughout. She hadn’t realized the depth of feelings involved until then.

“I feel like it might be better if you do break up with Harry. That makes the most sense. He’s so young and you are technically married to his father so even though you can sleep with another man, you’ve picked the wrong one.”

“I know. I’ve never made such an epic mistake in all my life. It’s a mistake, what I’ve done. Isn’t it?”

“I think so. Yeah. You can’t help how you feel. I understand why you are doing it. Why you like Harry so much, but… if you can never be with him openly then that probably makes this a mistake. Will you see him today?”

“I’m going to go see him. Yes. I hate this so much. Can I come see you after? I’m gonna need someone to talk to and cry to a bit. I don’t want Leo wondering what’s wrong with me. Not that he’d care much.”

.           .           .

Her text to Harry went unanswered. She imagined he might still be sleeping. Hungover from the night before. Hell, she was even hungover from the night before but five glasses of wine at 27 will do that to you.

She chewed the skin at the edge of her thumb as she walked around her neighborhood in the hills. She couldn’t stay in the house with Leo looming because she would frequently begin to burst into tears out of nowhere and she couldn’t have him seeing that.

Her heart was pounding in her chest and nerves were making her skin crawl the longer she waited to hear back. She couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t just ignoring her altogether. And to drive all the way to his campus on a Saturday at noon would be an hour's drive.

But maybe that’s what she needed. Maybe a long drive and some loud music with her windows rolled down would be better than walking along the winding streets of her neighborhood and waiting for him to respond. Yes. That’s what she’d do. She’d go to him. She needed to. This needed to end. Only then could they both move on and begin to heal.

.           .           .

Harry did see the text come in from Y/n. Sort of. He opened up a singular eye and squinted to read the message but the words were fuzzy and his headache was killer. He couldn’t move. Lifting the phone to look at the text was a feat in and of itself and that had been all for nothing because he couldn’t even make out the words on his screen. He knew it was from Y/n but when he closed his eye he drifted off into a dreamless sleep once again. Tyler never budged from his spot on the couch.

But when there was a knock at his door and his phone was ringing right next to his head he was forced to sit upright and take in his surroundings. His head was still pounding but the nausea from the night before had mostly passed. Mostly.

“Hello?” His voice was groggy and dry and pained.

“Harry. It’s me. I’m at your door.”

It took a minute for everything to fall into place. He stood up and slowly made his way to his door and when he opened up, even though he knew Y/n said she was there, somehow it still took him by surprise.

He silently greeted her and gestured for her to enter.

His TV was on but the sound was muted. Tyler was draped over the small couch with his mouth gaped wide open in a dead sleep. A bottle of liquor, empty on the small table in front of the couch was the final clue as to what had gone on the night before.

She could tell Harry had just woken up. That at least made her feel a bit better. He wasn’t purposely ignoring her.  

“I’m sorry I showed up like this,” she spoke quietly, not wanting to wake Tyler up. Especially because it would look suspicious to him to see Y/n there. Though she assumed he knew based on Harry’s comments about Tyler when he called her in the middle of the night.

She was so pretty but she looked so sad. Harry could tell, even with a killer headache and a queasy stomach that she was pensive.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry about that call last night. Got very drunk. And wound up telling him about us,” Harry looked over his shoulder at Tyler then back at you. “So… I’m sorry about that too.”

Y/n watched as Harry got himself a glass of water and chug it before waking Tyler up and asking him to go back to his room.

Tyler eventually got up and greeted Y/n politely, “Morning. Uh, sorry. I just need to run to the bathroom and then I’ll be out of here.”

It was awkward. Sitting on Harry’s bed while she watched his best friend drag himself to the bathroom. Knowing he knew about them. She wondered what Harry had told him exactly. And now she imagined he’d be calling Tyler after she left to tell him what had happened and how she’d broken his heart. Not dissimilar to what she’d be doing with Marla.

Harry stood awkwardly against the foot of his bed with his head turned to look at Y/n, “I am sorry you know. I can tell you’re upset. Is that why you’re here?”

He did feel bad. He’d been way out of line. Wildly jealous. Drunk.

“In part,” she looked up at him. His eyes were bloodshot but he was still so handsome. If she weren’t there at that moment to break up with him she’d stand up and pull him in for a kiss. She wanted to. “But I wanted to talk to you about something else too.”

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his messy curls, “Y/n,” his green eyes looked so bright and tired. The next words he spoke in a quiet whisper, “Please don’t.” She almost didn’t hear him. Almost. But she did and the moment he said it her heart dropped into her stomach. This was going to kill her.

Tyler opened the door and said goodbye quickly but Harry didn’t take his eyes off Y/n’s. He knew what she was doing. Why she’d come. He could just feel it. Tell by the way she was looking at him.

“Is that why you’re here, Y/n? To break up with me?”

Y/n patted the spot on the mattress next to her, “Come sit with me. Please.”

“Damnit!” Harry walked toward his kitchenette and leaned over the small formica countertop with his back to her, “I fucked up. I am not good at this. I’m too emotional.”

Y/n had broken up with a fair amount of guys in her life. Some were easier than others. A few times she was on the receiving end of the breakup. It was never easy.

But this one felt a lot heavier. It felt like ripping out a page from a beautifully half-drawn masterpiece before it was ready to see the light of day. Torn in half and tossed into the trash and wasted all without having had the chance to be completed and filled in with color and then framed and hung. It could have been beautiful.

She got up from the bed and walked across his room to stand behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, smushing her cheek into his back all in silence.

Harry’s breaths were heavy and his t-shirt-covered back was warm against her skin. He brought his hands up over hers and hung his head.

“Harry,” she whispered and squeezed him tight, “I don’t want to do this but–“

“Then don’t,” Harry turned around to face her and took her hands into his, “Then don’t, Y/n.”

Shaking her head she blinked away her tears and tried to focus on her task. It had to be done. It was better for him in the end. And she only wanted what was best for him.

“This can’t go on. We’ll only get hurt. It’s already hurting.”

Shiny tears filled in Harry’s eyes and when he finally blinked they fell down his cheeks and to his chin, “Do you not-“ He shook his head and looked down for a moment as he sniffed to compose himself. Looking back into her eyes his thumbs softly caressed her thumbs, “You don’t want to be with me anymore?”

“It’s not that,” she shook her head, “It’s because I think this guilt and pain will just get worse. You’ve been so upset and unhappy. I don’t want to see you sad.”

“This is making me sad, Y/n. If you’re trying to do something to protect me, then don’t. I can handle it. I know the deal.”

She closed her eyes and lifted his hand up to her mouth to kiss his knuckles, “I know. But it’ll be easier if we do it now. The longer this goes on, the worse it’ll be. We’ll both wind up hating each other. It’ll be messier than it already is. You don’t want to be some secret forever do you?” She looked up at him.

“I would if it meant being with you. Whatever that means. Whatever it takes.”

“You don’t mean that. I don’t think you understand how awful it would be.”

“I haven’t been given the chance. I can get used to it. I’ll be better.”

Y/n dropped his hands and brought her arms up, cupping his face with her palms, “You’re so young. You’ll get over me. You’ll find someone you can be happy with openly and fall in love and have all those things you deserve.”

Harry’s mouth was slightly open as he drew in breaths of air (unable to breathe through his nose as he was crying). He put his large hands over hers and shook his head, “And what about you? Don’t you deserve love and someone who will be only yours? My dad can’t give you that. I can.”

“I agreed to the arrangement with your dad, Harry. I’m okay. I’ll be okay. My only concern is you. You are the one that deserves to have all those wonderful. Not me.”

“No. You’re wrong. You deserve it too. I want to be the one to give that to you.”

She tried to stop her sinuses from tingling and the tears from forming but she couldn’t. Her lips quivered as she tried to respond but her words were swallowed in her throat when she sucked in a sharp breath of grief.

She was helpless to her natural emotions as she felt her cheeks wet. She wanted to be strong and confident when she broke up with him so he’d see she meant it but her position crumbled with his delicate temper. He was too tender and lovely for her to keep up a cold façade.

“Please, Harry. Don’t make this harder. We can’t see each other anymore like this. I will miss you but this can’t go on.” She brought her hands down from his face, causing his hands to fall away.

“Who’s going to show you affection and give you intimacy then, Y/n? You can’t go about life without out. I can see how much you need it. You need me.” He sniffed as more tears fell.

“Harry…” she shook her head and backed away as she wiped her face.

But he grasped her wrist, not letting her get too far, “Don’t. Please, Y/n. You’re gonna break my heart.”

Y/n looked down at her wrist and back to Harry’s soulful gaze, “You’ll be okay. You’ll find someone better.”

He let go of her wrist and let out an incredulous laugh, “The fuck I will.”

He pushed himself off the small counter and walked to his window to look outside. His attitude had changed. Now he was clearly frustrated. Angry.

“You will,” she followed behind him but kept a small distance, “I promise.”

“So you’ll just be fucking whoever comes along that you like instead of me since my dad isn’t offering love to you. Is that what you wanted? Just company. No attachment? No love?”

That’s what she thought she wanted. Before she met Harry. In fact, she thought she’d be okay with just having Leo from time to time to fill in the physical parts of intimacy. The rest she could get from her friends.

But it all changed with Harry. Which is why she needed to stop it before it was too much. Before she was completely in love and had him ruined as well.

“I will be okay, Harry. I’m doing this because I want you to have everything you deserve.”

“Fuck that.” Harry turned to look at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t make you do anything you don’t want. You don’t want me? Fine. We’ll go back to how it was before. Except less friendly, I think, because I’m not sure I can handle being too friendly with you. If that’s what you want. Fine. I want you to have whatever your heart desires too, Y/n. And if that’s not me then I can’t change your mind.”

“Harry… that’s not how it is–“

“That’s exactly how it is. You’re here to break up with me. So we’ll break up. Despite how amazing we are together. We’ll just call it quits. Give up before we can really see what happens. Before we really even got going.”

“It’s because this was a mistake, Harry. This should have never happened, you and me. It’s only caused deep hurt and it will only grow worse if we continue.”

Harry nodded and looked up toward his ceiling to pull the tears back into his eyes, not wanting to let any more drop down over his cheeks, “You’re right.” He looked back at her and she could see a bit of anger rise in his demeanor, “This was a mistake.”

5. When In Greece

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[trippinsorrows]

https://x.com/hourlyroman/status/1844540517222129691?s=46

https://x.com/mindfulofmani/status/1844563126622032232?s=46

found these tweets on my tl and they give ltye 😩 like the second tweet just said

sitting in his chair in his office, staring with a blank yet killersome expression, roman is annoyed. granted, one could argue that he's always annoyed, and maybe he is.

but, it's only because people are fucking idiots who lack reading comprehension as well as the ability to follow basic instructions.

and he hates that shit. hates when someone's fuck up requires his intervention.

that's usually when said someone ends up hurt. or dead.

but, this time around, both of the prior options, typical for him, are pushed all the way from his mind with the tentative knock on his office door.

immediately sitting up in his chair, roman calls out, "come in."

and as soon as the door open, the fluffiness of dulce speeds by, the dimwitted puppy rushing over to him with all the excitement only to settle herself into the bed that at some point got moved to his office. he might or might not have been the one to do it on a day where all her damn whining was getting so bothersome that he just placed her by him so she'd shut up.

and from that day on, she seems to have the impression that this is also another room where she can settle her lazy ass in the overpriced bed and lounge the day away.

but his brief irritation with the unemployed squatter is again washed away by soft, thick thighs and an innocent smile. roman's gaze easily falls to solana's shapely legs that are on full display in her short little dress.

if there's one thing he'll acknowledge he owes naomi and bayley credit for, it'll always be their dedication in helping solana dress more confidently, cause goddamn.

"you don't have to knock, solana." roman has told her this several times before, and yet every time, she approaches him like she's everyone else. like she needs to be cautious and tentative.

she shrugs, walking over, explaining. "i just don't want to interrupt if you're in a meeting or something."

"doesn't matter," is his easy dismissal as he reaches for her. grabbing her by her hips, he tugs her close, plopping her down in her rightful spot. on his lap. "seeing and speaking to you is better than any damn meeting."

roman can practically see the shy smile on her pretty face as he peppers his lips over her shoulder. "you okay?"

she nods. "are you busy?" he sighs against her, feeling the way she tenses at his reaction. "solana, how many times do i have to tell you that i'm never too busy for you? you need something, just tell me."

she looks over at him, roman both hating and appreciating the way she shifts on his lap. this dress is nice and all, but all that ass she has moving on his dick like that doesn't do anything to help his resolve and desire to prop her up on his desk and fuck her until his name is the only thing she knows how to say.

"i know, i just.....it's kind of silly." she shrugs.

"it's not." he doesn't even know what it is. doesn't need to know. he just knows her being dismissive of it is a good indication that it's not anything frivolous. "tell me."

roman watches the way she opens and closes her mouth at least twice. overthinking. she's gotten a lot better with it, but there's still room for growth.

"i was......i was wondering if–if we–" she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "if we could go out to dinner again sometime." roman is slightly taken back. of all the things, he wasn't expecting that. "i don't mind cooking. i really don't, but–it was really nice that time we went, even though i know you were upset jimmy interfered."

it's nearly impossible for roman to hide his scowl at the memory of that. not the dinner. she's right. that part was nice. just the part where his annoying ass cousin snooped his nose in business that didn't involve him. that's what has roman rolling his eyes.

solana giggles at his expression, and it's music to his ears. an appreciated sight and gift on a relatively stressful day. as per usual with any interaction with her.

she always seems to make him feel better. whether she realizes it or not. whether she's trying to or not. it's just her gift in this life, it seems. her.

she's his gift.

solana continues, anging her body toward him, roman relaxing even more when she moves her hands around his neck. "so maybe if you look at your calender and see a date that works–"

"tonight." roman cuts her off. "let's go tonight."

her jaw drops, and again, he has to push inappropriate thoughts away. "but–but, you have work."

"i always have work, sol." and he always will. "shit can wait." the world won't end because roman decides to take a night off to take his fine ass wife out to dinner. "we'll go tonight. i'll have a restaurant cleared for us."

she pouts. and yet again, more self-restriction. "but, what about the other people? we can dine with oth–"

"fuck them." his interruption is said with all the seriousness. "i don't give a damn about them. they can do something else."

roman stands up, chuckling at solana's gasp as she tightens her hold onto him. it's brief movement. barely anything. he simply sets her on his desk, scooting her back just enough for where he needs her.

"my wife wants to go to dinner, so i'm taking her to dinner." he continues, solana smiling as he kisses on her neck and moves his hands under her dress, hands messing with the waistband of her underwear.

"roman....." it's a hard groan to suppress. he'll never get tired of hearing his name come out of her mouth. especially when it's breathy and needy. "what–this is your office."

"mmmhmm." he starts tugging, helping her lift her ass off the desk just enough for him to pull them off. her expression is damn near priceless as she watches him stuff them into his pocket. "and?"

"i–this is im–mportant." her stuttering increases as his fingers gloss over lips, nectar already starting to pool just from his light touches. "we ca–" she stops, gripping him by his shoulders when he dips a finger inside her tight little hole.

"yes, it is." roman's dick twitches in his pants watching the way her head falls back, her mouth open before she bites down on her bottom lip. "you want me to stop?"

he will. always will. if that's what she wants.

but, it's not, and he knows it. it's confirmed with how she shakes her head no, taking him by surprise when her cheeks redden, and she makes a surprising but pleasant request of her own. "your....your mouth."

fuck. roman hovers his lips over the top of her breast, fighting temptation to rid her of the dress altogether. "where do you want my mouth?"

she whines underneath him, and he smiles. he's patient with her but never shies away from the opportunity to help her grow with her confidence. with her assertiveness regarding what she wants and how she wants it.

she swallows, answering in a quiet voice. "o–on me."

roman can admit his next act, curling his finger inside of her, watching her arch off the desk, is borderline cruel. definitely teasing. "it is, baby."

"roman," another whine followed by her shifting on the desk, hand moving down to his bicep. "p–please."

another chuckle as he navigates his thumb near her clit. "please what?" he's not really expecting her to say it, recognizes it may be too soon. that she's not there just yet, but it doesn't stop him from trying.

he's just as pleased when she moves her hand to the top of his head and starts to push down, clearly guiding him to where she wants him. his smirk grows as he takes over, climbing on his knees and pushing her dress up to her waist. he's certain pre-cum spills from his dick at the sight of her pussy. pretty and glistening. just for him. always for him.

"that's my girl."

-------

the photos inspired me, friend 😭😭😭😭

[euphoricfilter]

hi <33 i just read your yandere jeongguk fic and immediately rushed to see if your requests are still open. (i'm thanking all the gods and the stars that they are😭)

you're so talented and creative, and i'm really hoping you'll accept my prompt. if you're willing, could you please write a non-idol smutty, possessive and jealous yoongi fic?? maybe with a slight age gap? thank you for sharing all your work with us!! have a great day/night <333

𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭:

pairing: brothers best friend! yoongi x f. reader

genre: fluff || pwp || non-idol au || age-gap au || brother’s best friend au ||

summary: your brother’s best friend isn’t too happy when you come home with a lipstick stain on your chest, and has no issue about reminding you who you truly belong to.

word count: 2.8k

tags/ warnings: porn without plot, fluff, secret relationship, mild age-gap (5-6 years) smut in the forms of: oral (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), breeding kink (but she’s on the pill so no babies yet), exhibitionalism? kinda because they fuck in the living room with other people in the house, multiple orgasms, creampie, cockwarming by the fire

notes: thank you so much my darling!! i hope you have a good day/ night too!! it’s all smut, there is a hint of plot but it’s minimal. this is my first time writing pwp so idk how i feel about it :’(

requests rules can be found here || my masterlist

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“You’re home late”

You pause; eyes meeting Yoongi’s gaze, always calculating. Always watching each little move you made until you were squirming, almost begging him to look away— your cheeks flushed red and voice barely above a whisper. And all he had to do was look at you.

If eyes are the windows to the soul then Min Yoongi’s windows have the curtains drawn shut— he had you figured out the minute the two of you met, and it’s taken over a decade for you to even remotely figure him out. And even now, both adults, you really could never figure out what he was thinking.

It’s the frigid caress of the winter wind on the back of your neck that has you shutting the front door. Careful not to slam it shut, assuming everyone but your brothers best friend was already asleep if the lack of lights on from the windows outside was any indication.

You stomp your feet to rid of any snow as you shrug your jacket off. Hanging it on the overcrowded hooks, evidence of another family living with you as you only pray it doesn’t fall.

“It was one of my friends’ birthdays” you explain, dropping to the floor in front of the fire. Skin tingling at the drastic change of temperature, your cheeks still a little red from the bitter weather outside (though it may also have to do with the man sat before you)

Your brother was home for the holidays, along with Yoongi and his parents. It had become a tradition over the years that both families gathered for the winter break— they took “the more the merrier” very seriously. And it wasn’t all that surprising for one of your families to stay over the others’ until new year.

“Looks like you had fun” his tongue wets his lips, book long forgotten on the arm of the chair as his eyes flit down your body.

Your fingers run over your collarbone, his eyes lingering a little longer than proper.

“It’s just my friend, she gets a little touchy when drunk” you wave him off, lipstick stain smudging under your thumb as you rub at the skin, no real force behind the action.

“Touchy?” Yoongi laughs.

“Mhmm” you smile up him.

And Yoongi groans, head tipping back as he readjusts himself in his sweats.

“Baby, the things you do to me” he tilts his head, eyes meeting your own. “Always a little minx”

“What do I do to you?” you dare ask, fingers toying with the hem of your sweater.

“That’s a loaded question, darling” his smile is lazy, hips rolling languidly up into his palm; short lived relief enough for him to stay sat on the chair.

“I can handle it” you reassure him. That gentle smile that tempts him time and time again, that gentle smile that he wants to kiss off your lips until you’re moaning his name, any thought of another man off your mind until you’re wholly consumed by him; and him alone.

“Bad things” he groans, not missing the way your eyes flit down to his lips, fingers fiddling and he knows you’re trying your hardest not to look at his cock— straining heavily against the fabric of his underwear.

“How bad?” you whisper.

“Very bad. You make me wanna do bad things, darling” he pushes himself to the edge of the chair.

You stay rooted in your place, and Yoongi thinks you look pretty on your knees; maybe prettier if you were between his legs.

“What sort of bad things?” you prod.

“Like fucking you silly” he leans forwards.

He watches your thighs clench, eyes widening a little at how blunt he was.

“Oh?” he croons, “You like the sound of that?” he asks, slipping off the chair.

“Yes” you nod, still unsure in yourself as you let his hands graze over your neck; unsure what to do with your own.

His thumb brushes over the lipstick stain, “You know I hate other people touching you, doll” his fingers dig into the skin, your breath coming out alongside a shudder.

“I told her not to” you tell him, lips pouty. And Yoongi leans forwards to kiss it away, ever so gentle that you fall into him. Early trying to deepen the kiss as he pulls away, lips tugged into a ghost of a smile.

“Yeah?” he whispers against your lips, “Did you tell her you have a boyfriend? One that doesn’t like to share?”

Your eyes fall shut when he presses wet kisses along the length of your jaw, his hands slipping under your sweater; rough skin caressing your bare back.

You tug at his shirt, and Yoongi pulls away from your neck to let you pull it over his head. He follows suit, tugging your sweater off before his lips find your neck, teeth nipping over your collarbone.

A hand clamps over your mouth, moan muffled by Yoongi as he sucks on your skin. He pulls away with a wet pop, thumb running over his bottom lip as he eyes his work.

“You’re gonna have to keep quiet, baby. Don’t want anyone waking up now, so we?” he pulls his hand away from your mouth, “Okay?”

“I know” you whisper, suddenly aware of everyone sleeping upstairs.

“Good girl.”

You flop back onto the floor, hair sprawled out on the carpet as Yoongi braces his arms on either side of your head.

“Yoongi” you smile up at him.

“Yeah?” he leans down to press another kiss to your jaw.

“Need you” your hands fumble with the waistband of his sweats, knuckles brushing over his cock.

Yoongi groans, muffled as he shoves his face into your neck. Goosebumps prickle your skin as his warm breath brushes over your shoulder, your hips rolling upwards— desperate for any kind of friction, any sort of relief.

“Yeah?” he grunts, helping you pull your jeans off, panties soon to follow, and you don’t bother to look where he throws them.

“Please” you whine, hands taking a hold of his face as you bring him in for another kiss, the heat of the fire melting your lips, moulded into one, so close that you don’t know where you end and he starts.

You mouth falls open into a breathy moan when a teasing fingers runs over your slit, your hole clenching around nothing as he teases over your clit. Touch so gentle you could barely feel it, pleasure like thin stardust as it fizzles through your body.

Your hips roll upwards, tempting him to give the release you so crave. You both pull away finally, breathing heavy as your chests connect. Hearts in sync with one another— and truly, Yoongi knows you’re his. Knows that your hearts are wrapped with a think red string and that you’ll always fall back into his arms. His love, his reason to breathe, his soul melded with yours that he couldn’t begin to imagine another woman underneath him.

Your fingers tug at the clasp of your bra, fingers a little shaky as adrenaline pumps through your body. Somewhere in the back of your mind still aware that anyone could walk down those stairs any moment and see the two of you.

Your hands find their way to your tits, tugging at your nipples as they begin to pebble— as Yoongi works his way down your body, trail of kisses following him. Lips barely there, though they feel searing against your skin. Printed in invisible ink that you’ll trail your fingers over later when you’re alone; a secret message left for you from him.

He kisses over your mound, fingers parting your lips before he licks a long stripe up to your clit. Your hand flies over your mouth, chocked moan bubbling up your throat as he repeats the action.

“Yoongi” you whisper, one hand tangling in his hair as his lips close around your clit. Your thighs twitch when his teeth graze over the bundle of nerves, eyes squeezing shut as a lick of pleasure wracks over your body.

You feel a finger prod at your hole, teasing the entrance before he slowly dips into you. You bite down on the skin of your arm as his tongue flicks over your clit, finger curling, before he’s pulling it out.

You barely feel the stretch of a second finger as he plunges it into you, the lewd squelch of your sodden pussy drowned out by the crackling of the firewood.

Your back arches, Yoongi pulling you closer into his face by one of your thighs. You feel him gently tug at your clit with his teeth, fingers expertly curling up into you; the slow build of your orgasm rising within your stomach.

Your thighs begin to shake, clamping around Yoongi’s head as he pulls his fingers out of you. Instead, replacing them with his tongue while his slick-coated thumb flicks over your clit in tight little circles.

You bite down on the skin of your arm as you feel the pressure of your orgasm reach its peak, Yoongi doesn’t need to ask if you’re close— knowing you were seconds from tipping over the edge as your cunt dribbles slick over his chin.

Your thighs to continue to shake around his head as you reach your orgasm. Your hand falls over your mouth, hiccup of a moan hard to contain as Yoongi continues to flick your clit, helping you ride out your high as the white behind your eyelids seems to fizzle to black.

Yoongi watches you tremble when he brings his face away from your soaked cunt. And you dare look down at him, light of the fire catching the sheen of your cum on his lips and chin as he smiles up at you; his fingers continuing to toy with you clit.

“Too much” you try to squirm away, his arm laying heavy over your waist to keep you down.

You feel yourself fall into another orgasm, buzzing overstimulation on your clit pulling you into a less intense but just as pleasurable high that has tears prickling your eyes.

“Yoongi” you snivel, mouth falling open into a silent moan, Yoongi not letting up on your poor clit.

Another dribble of arousal is pushed out of your clenching pussy, walls pulsating around nothing as you squirm, toeing Yoongi away from you— and finally stopping his unrelenting thrumming on your swollen clit.

Your next breath comes out jittery, hand held over your cunt as Yoongi licks his lips.

“You’re mean” you whine up at him, clit still buzzing with pleasure as the soft skin of your palm brushes over it.

“Can’t help it, your pretty little pussy is too addictive” he drawls, hands running over your sides to try and quell the slight tremble.

“Think you can take my cock?” he asks, wary of how sensitive you’ll be.

“Yeah” you nod, hand trailing back up your body to tug at your nipples as Yoongi pulls his sweats down.

You watch his cock spring free, pearly pre-cum smeared on his lower stomach, wet slap making you cringe.

He leans down, hand tugging at his length as he presses another kiss to your lips, drinking in your moan when you taste yourself on his tongue.

He kisses the corner of your mouth when he runs the head of his cock through your folds, cock slicked up with your arousal before he’s nudging the head against your entrance.

“You ready for me?” he murmurs against your skin, smiling when you hum.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer and he angles the head of his cock right over you cunt before he’s pushing in. The head pops inside with little resistance, and Yoongi has to bite back a moan as your walls clench around the tip of his cock.

You pull him in further, your boyfriend pushing his hips forward slowly before gently pulling back. Slowly, agonisingly, feeding you each inch of him until he’s buried to the hilt.

You revel in the feeling of being so full, cunt sporadically clenching around his length as he starts to pull out; gentle drag of his cock against your walls enough to bring you to a third orgasm of the night.

It wouldn’t be hard to make you cum again, not when your pussy was so sensitive after two consecutive orgasms. And Yoongi is kind enough to leave your clit be as he starts up a pace he’s happy with. Hand covering your mouth as you start to moan, fingers gripping your jaw and he worried he’ll bruise you.

Yoongi’s hips snap forwards before he’s pulling back until only the tip of cock is nestled inside of you before he’s ramming back into you again.

You feel his balls slap against your ass, squeaky moans tumbling off your tongue like honey that he licks from between your lips as he bends you in half, knees pushed up next to your shoulders.

You can’t help the red that stains your cheeks when you hear how wet you are, each brutal thrust of Yoongi’s cock ramming into you followed by a wet squelch as your cunt weeps around him.

“I’m close” you manage to squeeze out, eyes falling shut as your mouth opens, only Yoongi is clamping his hand over it moments later when he can see the moan ready to drip off your lips.

You’re the image of pure sin underneath him, nails digging into his arms as his hips continue to slap against your ass, and it’s a wonder as to how no one seems to have woken up.

“Me too, baby. Together okay?” he grunts, hands grabbing onto any part of you he can hold.

“Inside” you whine, “Cum inside me please”

“Yeah?” he grunts, “Like the idea of me putting a baby into you huh?” his laugh is mean, “What would your parents say? What would they think when you tell them you’re pregnant?”

“Probably ask whose baby it is” your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close enough for you to kiss over his jaw.

“Yeah? And whose fucking baby would it be?”

“Yours” you cry, body being pushed up the carpet with each harsh thrust, your arousal starting to dribble down Yoongi’s balls. Each wet slap of them against your ass a lewd reminder of how wet you truly were for this man. “I’d tell them it’s yours” you sob.

“Yeah you will”

His hips start to stutter, thrusts less calculated, sloppier and he reaches his high. You feel his cock twitch and Yoongi smashes his lips against your own, more teeth than tongue, when his fingers find their way back to your clit; a cry being ripped from your throat at the harsh press of a finger against your swollen bud.

Your body trembles, Yoongi pushing his cock as far into you as he can before he’s cumming. Thick cum painting your walls white as he holds you close.

You shake through your own orgasm, tugging his hand away from your clit when you feel the overstimulation become painful, thighs shaking in the aftershock of it all.

Yoongi barely pulls out before he’s thrusting back into you, a foamy ring of white surrounding the base of his cock as he gently rocks into you.

You don’t bother telling him to stop, each electric thrum of overstimulating pleasure of his cock dragging against your walls too delicious to let up on.

Yoongi feels your walls rhythmically clenching around his slowly softening cock; and he’s gentle as he pulls the both of you to sit up— making sure he was still nestled deep inside of you as his hands run over your back.

Both of your skin shine in a sheen of sweat, bodies sticky as you flop into his chest. Your toes burning as they get to close to the fire.

“When are we gonna tell them?” you whisper, breath tickling Yoongi’s bare chest when you yawn.

“Whenever you’re ready sweetheart” his fingers run through your hair, catching in a knot and you wince at the pain. Though he feels you clench at it, he chooses not to comment. That was a discussion for another day.

For now he needed to get the both of you cleaned up, and you into bed before someone wandered downstairs wondering what all the noise was. Though he thinks that can wait a while, more than happy with you flopped against his chest while his cock stay impaled into your cunt; cum filled and swollen. Nothing a few kisses can’t fix and maybe his tongue in the shower.

“Maybe new year” you shrug, “I’m sorry about my friend kissing me” you peer up at him through his lashes.

He simply hums, “Just don’t let it happen again, fucking hate how touchy all your friends are” he grunts, “You’re mine, y’know?”

“I know” you giggle, wincing a little when you jostle his cock inside of you, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek in apology.

And you let him off this one time, his smile too bright for you to even dare tease him about it when the atmosphere was so cozy.

[anni-writes]

i’m getting a little nervous

Atsumu Miya x reader | Angst

Warnings: self indulgent angst, Atsumu a little shitty, post timeskip

Songfic based on Nerves by DPR IAN. Highly recommend listening the song or watching the mv

word count: 1270

23:02h

Hi, how you doing?

I heard you seem to be happy now

Never in a million years Atsumu though he would sob so hard for someone

He never antecipated that his shitty behavior would draw away someone he loved so deeply

Although, his brother antecipated.

Since forever, Osamu knew that the raw words, the lack of tact, the uncaring demeanor and the obnoxious narcisistic behaviour would tire you out eventually.

And he alerted Atsumu, just as he did in high school.

So is safe to say the last person he could reach now was Osamu.

He know better than to hear a painful “I warned you, dumbass” from him in this state.

Not when he was still so vulnerable from this afternoon.

_____

13:43h

It had been three months of radio silence after the fight, and Atsumu was hanging on the thin thread of hope that you would come back to him. Just as you always did.

He didn't see it coming. But he wished he did.

While scrolling through the meaningless registers of people's lives, waiting for his coach, he saw the airplane window picture on your Instagram story, alongside the news that you were moving to another country.

Another fucking country.

Just like that.

Out of reach.

The ball fell. On his side of the court. The referee blew the whistle announcing that it was officially his loss.

But he never loses, how can it be?

He could feel the rush of adrenaline increasing his heart rate.

His body acted on his own.

He left his teammates confused at the gym and ran like he had never did in his entire life. Not even in a volleyball match to catch an unpredictable, difficult ball on the other side of the court. Not even in high school when he was late for practice, and the coach would scold him and double his warm-up laps.

His body ran towards a destination he knew all too well, apologizing to people he bumped into on the street until they all became a blur, and he gave up on his own awareness.

So you came around my house

And you left your marks with your fingertips

I'm sitting where you sat down

And now he's looking for something meaningless

The image of you picking that place because it was so close to both the MSBY practice gym and the office where you worked, and also had the best view of Tokyo at night, was burning somewhere in the back of his mind while his lungs worked double-time to keep up with his speed.

A couple of minutes of running, which felt like hours, he bumped gracelessly against the building door, opening it and fumbling inside.

Breathless, he almost broke the elevator button in his impatience, earning a glare from the doorman, who chose not to say anything due to the visible distress on Atsumu’s face.

Just like the mirrorless elevator, the hallway of the 13th floor seemed more claustrophobic than ever.

And the door of apartment 1307 no longer held the garland from last Christmas, the one you always claimed to forget there, but in reality, were just too lazy to remove, saying “Christmas is gonna be soon again” every time Atsumu pointed it out.

God fucking hell, he could swear he heard your voice in the back of his head, and he hated it.

His sweaty hands reached the doorknob. The door was unlocked, but the sight locked something inside him.

The bright, colorful, saturated walls you made him help you paint were now white.

It looked like a nightmare.

Each uncertain step he took inside the plain apartment was like a different stake driving into his heart.

The once lively space that echoed your goofy laughter and his loud one, but mostly your colorful warmth, was now nothing more than an empty shell.

His heart ached as he desperately clung to the fading memories of you.

Letting his sight scan the place, he spotted the small nook where you used to sit and read, the sunlight from the window casting a warm glow on the now vacant spot. The vision triggered a fresh wave of pain, his legs almost buckling under the weight of his grief.

He leaned his back against the plain white wall, sliding down to sit on the floor.

It was as if every inch of the apartment was screaming out your absence, the silence deafening.

He let himself drown in the sea of regret, each memory of you like a wave crashing over him, pulling him further into the depths of his despair.

And in that moment, Atsumu realized the full extent of his loss. Not just the loss of you, but the loss of the love and joy you brought into his life, the loss of the person he had become because of you.

And I'm sorry

I was hurting too much to know

That you were standing right there

And it hit him. All the times you were there for him when he was alone in Tokyo, way before his brother moved.

A country boy trying to reach his dream all alone. Trying to deal with the pressure all alone. Trying to handle the early stages of fame all alone.

But he was never alone.

He would cry comfortably in the crook of your neck while you combed his hair, soothing his soul.

“Breathe with me, baby,” you would say so softly to him when he was in the middle of some panic attack on a Wednesday night.

When the nightmares with the cameras, the press, and the fans woke him up, and you were just… there. Sleeping soundly. And his shaking figure would spoon you to scent the vanilla of your shampoo and calm himself down to sleep again, dreaming of taking you to the vineyards in Italy on his first vacation in-between seasons.

You were always there for him.

But he failed to remember when he was there for you.

You got a little nervous of running back to you

When you weren't there

____

18:33h

He didn't know how long he sat there, lost in his thoughts. But when he finally managed to pull himself together, the sun was already setting.

The view from the window was the same as he had seen so many times with you. But this time, it felt so different, so… dull.

Just like him now.

____

23:40h

He never anticipated that his shitty behavior would drive away someone he loved so deeply, even though Osamu anticipated it.

And now he was sobbing while his sore muscles were relaxing under the strong effect of the whiskey in his left hand.

His phone, forgotten all day in his pocket, was now in his right hand. His thumb purposefully ignoring all the missed calls from his teammates and his brother, to open a three-month-old chat.

Your picture almost made him throw the glass of whiskey against the living room wall. A picture that he took.

But he suppressed the bottled anger. His once unwavering steady setter hands, now trembling, typed away on a mission.

He wanted to be there for you at least once, knowing what’s best for you right now.

So against all the cells of his body pleading for your presence, he sent:

So many times I could've held on

How much I wished I'd never let you go

I still can't believe I left you alone

It tore me down to pieces, she’ll never know

[whimsiwitchy]

I hear the secrets that you keep (series)

chapter four: wicked game

Pedro Pascal x F!reader 

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size reader (no specific description of reader, slight descriptions of weight: stomach fat, stretch marks, etc.), hefty age gap (24 years/14 years), female anatomy description, she/her pronouns, use of gendered terms (girl, girly, etc.), y/n used, descriptions of nudity, swearing,  use of the word fat, warnings may change as the story progresses. 

authors note: Hi everyone. There are two songs that go with what’s happening during two different parts of this chapter. They’re both listed with title and artist if you want to listen to them during it. Also when scenes from the movie are in play, the character names Daniel and Janet will be used. Thank you <3

chapter summary: y/n attends more calls for Risky Disco and sorts some stuff out with Pedro. 

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“Did I mention that you looked really beautiful today?” 

When you first read it, you immediately locked your phone and tossed it across the couch. He couldn’t have meant that right? Maybe he was just being super friendly. Theories swam around your mind and you couldn’t seem to understand why he would say that. Once you calmed down a little bit, you decided that you would in fact respond to his first text and simply pretend the second one didn’t exist. 

“I had a lot of fun too. We for sure should!! :)” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

It had been three days since your hangout with Pedro and you were preparing yourself for the day you had ahead of you. Today you had a jam packed schedule with a costume fitting from 6am-12pm, then a roller skating call from 3pm-10pm. Pedro never responded to your text but there was a ‘read at 9:47pm’ sitting under it proving that he had read it. You tried not to let it hurt your feelings too much because you just met the guy, a guy that was old enough to be your father at that. Nevertheless, he had this strong gravitational pull on you that you couldn’t ignore. You were attracted to him and you thought maybe he was attracted to you as well. 

Relationships aren't a concept that are completely foreign to you. You had a few boyfriends and even a few flings over the years, but they were always short lived. Over time you noticed that you were a secret to these men, that they were ashamed to like a fat girl. In private, they would be super sweet and loving, but the moment you were in public with them, it was as if you didn’t exist. Don’t even mention the lack of social media validation. These boys wouldn’t be caught dead hard launching their fat girlfriend on Instagram. You weren't sure if anyone would ever truly love you the way you knew you deserved. 

It was currently 5am. You slept longer than intended and you were grateful you had an excuse to do a lazy fit today as you zipped through your apartment, rushing to get ready. You decided on a pair of black sweatpants accompanied by a dark purple hoodie with a few golden stars littered across it and a pair of white crocs. By 5:40, you were out the door and on the way to your costume fitting. Once you arrived, you tried your best to follow the directions given via email, only getting lost once in the process. You double checked the room number in front of you with the number on your phone and entered. There were workers everywhere running around like ants. You stood there confused for a moment until you saw Pedro sitting on a couch across the room. He was sitting there on his phone as you took in his appearance. He was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, a plain black tee shirt, and a pair of running shoes. You were starting to understand why women go feral over men in gray sweatpants now, as you stared a few seconds too long. With a boost of confidence, you made your way over to him. 

“Mind if I sit?” He looks up. “Go for it.” He goes back to his phone. 

You’re slightly offended at his cold welcome, but brush it off. 

“Early morning huh? What time did you get here?” You ask, trying to start a conversation. He locks his phone and looks at you. “Been here since 5, they’re behind schedule.” “You weren’t lying when you said they never follow the ‘early on time and on time is late’ rule huh?” You laugh a little and he just nods and looks away. 

Okay what the fuck is his problem? 

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask. “Shoot.” He says, still looking away. “Did I do something to upset you or something because I thought we had fun the other day. You said we had fun.” You say quietly. He looks at you with soft eyes and opens his mouth to speak, but before he can someone calls his name and ushers him away. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

To say that the costume fitting was really fucking awkward is an understatement. After each costume, you and Pedro had to take pictures next to each other to make sure that the ‘costumes don’t clash’ or whatever the fuck the guy said. You started to get really annoyed about halfway through because Pedro was ignoring you. He wasn’t speaking to you, hell he didn’t even acknowledge your presence at all. How was it fair that he seeked you out to hangout and get to know each other, then told you  not to be shy next time he saw you, and then he ignored you the entire costume fitting. Once it was over and you changed back into your sweats and hoodie, you walked out into the main room and Pedro was nowhere to be seen. You sighed and stomped off to your car. You only had two hours instead of the original three hour break in between calls because of the crew being behind schedule this morning and you desperately needed to talk to someone about your feelings. So naturally, you called Angie and asked her if she wanted to meet you for lunch.  She agreed and the two of you met at a small coffee shop near her office building.  She could immediately tell that you were pissed off. 

“What’s wrong girl? Tell me everything. Do I need to kick someone's ass?” She says while holding her fists up. 

“Unless you want to go to jail for abusing the elderly, I don’t think so.” 

“Some old bitch pissed you off?” 

“Yea..something like that.”

“Spill, i'll be your therapist for the next..” She trails off while she checks the time on her phone “...43 minutes.” 

“Ang, I’m really fucking confused right now.” you sigh, putting her head in your hands. She urges you to continue. “I need you to promise me that you won’t freak out too much and get mad at me for not telling you this right away. Okay?” 

“Okay okay, just tell me already I'm dying over here.” 

“Okay. So after the table read a few days ago, Pedro basically chased me to my car.” Angie’s eyes go wide. As you fill her in on your hangout with Pedro, you could see all of her emotions and thoughts clearly on her face. 

“I’m a bit confused here. If you guys hung out and it was great, what did he do to make you so mad?” 

“Well, he kinda sorta texted me after.” 

“YOU HAVE HIS NUMBER??!?” She screams. A few people give her a few dirty looks. 

“Uh yea. I had to send my address to him. But um he texted me saying that he had fun and we should do it again sometime. Before I could even reply he sent this.” You show her the text. 

“OH MY FUCKING GOD BITCH!!!” More dirty looks fly her way and she gives a quick sorry. 

“The Pedro Pascal has the hots for you! You should be over the moon, not all grumpy.” She says in a whispered yet excited voice. “Wait, why the hell didn’t you respond to that part? You really ignored the hottest man on earth calling you beautiful. Are you fucking stupid or something, you got rocks for brains?” 

“Ang…I ignored him because I was scared. Plus you don’t know he meant it that way. What if he was just being nice?” 

“Y/n I need you to be for real right now. You hung out with him all day and he texted you that he had fun and that you’re beautiful and you see that as him just being nice?” You slowly nod 

“You are so clueless when it comes to guys.” 

“You didn’t even let me tell you why I’m mad at him.” 

“Oh yea, continue then.” 

“I saw him this morning but he basically ignored me.” 

“What the fuck do you mean he ignored you?”

“I tried to talk to him when I first got to the fitting but he just gave short answers and seemed uninterested. The entire time he just acted like I didn’t exist.” She gives you a look that reads ‘you really are a dumb bitch huh?’, a look she's  given you many times before. 

“Please don’t look at me like that. Can you just tell me what you’re thinking right now?” 

“y/n, baby, honey. He probably acted like that because you completely brushed off the face that he called you beautiful. He’s probably embarrassed and thinks you're uninterested.” 

Those words hit you like a ton of bricks and you really did feel like a stupid bitch right now. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You spent the second hour of your break at home wallowing in self pity. You were in a really weird position right now. If Pedro did happen to be interested in you, you couldn’t shake the fact that he was 24 years older than you, only 14 years in his head. If he did try to pursue you at all, you’d have to tell him the truth, but what if that affected your career. You knew that your real age would come out at some point but you were hoping for it to be after this movie was released and your talent was already showcased. Not only was Pedro significantly older than you, he was your coworker. It was your debut film and you just had to get the hots for your co-star. You really enjoyed being around Pedro, you just really hoped whatever was brewing between you two wouldn’t cause too much trouble. 

When you got to the roller rink being used for filming, most of the cast was already there putting on their skates. You found an empty bench and sat down. You scanned the room for any sign of where to go until you found a skate check out area near the arcade. Just as you were about to stand up and make your way over there, someone sat down beside you. You looked up and locked eyes with Pedro. “Um, I just wanted to apologize for acting weird earlier.” He says with a soft voice. “I just uh… I’m also sorry about the message I sent. I probably crossed a line there and I didn’t mean it.” You nod with a look of hurt on your face. “I didn’t meant that I didn’t mean what I said, I did mean it, you looked stunning, I just uh… fuck man.. I’m really bad at this.” You give him a small laugh. “P it’s okay. I’m sorry for ignoring it all together. I didn’t know what to do and thought it would go away, if that makes sense.” He nods in understanding and smiles. “P? I earned a nickname?” “Oh um I can just call you by your full name if that’s what you want. I understand if- " "Y/n.” You look at him. “It’s more than okay.” The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment. “We should go grab our skates and get to the floor.” Pedro stands up and offers his hand to you. You take it and he pulls slightly to help you up. The two of you walk over to the skate rental counter, check out skates, and walk back over to the bench. 

“I haven’t done this in ages.” Pedro says as he ties the laces on the skates. 

“Me either. I used to skate all the time as a kid. I would always go to the skating rink on Friday nights and hangout with friends.” You smile big as you recount the memories. Pedro goes to stand up and immediately falls, luckily falling back onto the bench. You let out a big laugh and his laugh follows. “You sure you’ll be able to make it to the floor old man?” You joke. “Hey, don’t start now. I’m not that much older than you.” You go quiet. “P, about that. I really need to tell you some-” 

“We need all the actors on the skate floor. All actors to the skate floor. Thank you.” 

You stand up and offer a helping hand to Pedro and you slowly guide him to the floor. “What were you going to tell me?” “Oh uh nothing, it can wait.”. You made it to the floor still holding Pedro’s hand, he let’s go. Both Pedro and yourself were pulled aside to work on your skate choreography. In the movie your characters meet at the skating rink and have a roller dancing sequence together that you would be learning and practicing tonight. Once you learned the first half, the floor was cleared so both of you could run the choreo. 

The song Le Freak by CHIC started to play and you began skating. The routine started off by Janet skating alone. She glided through the floor and swayed side to side for the first 35 seconds of the song. Once the first line is sung, Daniel starts to skate next to her, following the lead. “Hey there sugar.” Janet ignores him and continues to skate. “You’re not going to ignore me all night, are you sweet thing?” She rolls her eyes. Janet starts to skate backwards in front of Daniel. “Let’s see if you can keep up, then maybe I'll talk to you.” Janet says with a wink and glides back next to Daniel’s side. At this point, the chorus of the song hits and the two of you begin to do a cheesy dance. Rolling your arms in a circle and then hitting a disco finger both ways. 

The music stops and you both hop out of character and start laughing. The choreographer and other actors are applauding. Pedro opens his arms for a hug and you accept it. You felt like you were on cloud nine. The moment died down and the two of you learned the rest of the choreography and rehearsed it a few more times. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“I literally can’t believe how stereotypical that scene is, oh my god.” You said bursting with laughter. “That’s honestly why I agreed to do this movie. It’s full of fun and dumb stuff. The best kind of movie.” The two of you were walking out to the parking lot together. “Hey. I know it’s late and you like totally don’t have to, but if you wanted to come over again and you know hangout you could.” You look over at Pedro with a hopeful smile. “Yea I’m down. I’ll meet you over there yea?” You nod and try to hide just how excited you are. 

Once you made it back to your place, you waited in the parking lot for Pedro, and made the short walk up to your apartment once he arrived. You opened the door and took off your shoes, you notice Pedro does the same. 

“I’m gonna order some pizza for us real quick. Is one cheese and one pepperoni fine with you?” Pedro nods and takes a seat on the couch while you make your way to the kitchen. Pedro takes a look around your apartment and notices all of the little unique things that you have collected. “I never got the chance to compliment you on your space last time I was here. It’s really cozy.” He yells out to you. “Oh thanks. I like to go thrifting and antiquing for old trinkets and stuff.” You say as you walk back into the living room with two cups of water. “Do you mind if I play some music, I hate how quiet it gets in here sometimes.” “Yea go for it. Let’s see what you got.” He says almost as a challenge. 

The pizza arrives about 20 minutes later and the two of you fall into conversation while eating. “So do you live in LA?” 

“Kind of. I have a small place here and I have one in New York too. I live wherever I’m needed.” 

“That sounds exhausting.” 

“You should start preparing for that lifestyle. Soon you’ll be booked and busy, going all over the world.” 

“I’m kind of nervous for the press tour we have. I know it’s like a year away but I’ve never traveled that much before.” 

“It’s gonna be fun. Besides, you’ll have me to entertain you the entire time.”

With music still playing in the background, both of you are laid out on the couch still deep in conversation. 

“Y/n can I tell you something?” 

“Yea of course.”

“I really did mean it when I said you were beautiful. I’m sorry if that seems too forward. I just don’t want to regret not saying it.” He looks over to you. 

“Oh uh, thank you.” You say shyly. “I um.. I think you’re really handsome.” He smiles. 

There's a silent pause in conversation. Wicked Game by Chris Isaak starts to play. “Shit.” Pedro grunts as he sits up. “I didn’t realize how late it was.” You glance over to the clock and it reads 2:45am. “I should probably get going sweetheart.” He pats your knee and stands up. You slowly pull yourself off the couch. 

The world was on fire and no-one could save me but you

You watched Pedro as he collected his belongings. He was still wearing the same outfit as this morning and you couldn’t help but stare. 

It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do 

Your brain focused on the song in the background and your body started to feel warm. Pedro went to grab his shoes and you followed. 

I’d never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you

He stood up with a goofy smile. You couldn’t help but stare at him. Just within the two times you had spent time with him, you felt like he was invading your every thought. You didn’t think you’d ever meet someone who had this effect on you. 

No, I don’t want to fall in love

The song lyrics felt like a warning but you couldn't seem to care. Pedro stood right in front of you. A man who had called you beautiful and had meant it. A man who had seeked you out to spend time with you and has sat in your apartment talking about stupid shit for hours on end. 

What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way

He’s staring into your eyes and all you can think about is how badly you want to kiss him. You don’t care about what might happen after. You wanted him. 

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

You look down at his lips. “I should go.” He whispers and steps closer to you. “Yea you probably should.” You whisper letting your lust filled eyes meet his. “Fuck it.” He grabs you by the waist, bending down slightly and connects his lips to yours. 

And I don’t wanna fall in love

You reach up to grab his face and pull him closer to deepen the kiss. The kiss quickly heated when Pedro slid his tongue into your mouth. You let out a small moan, causing the two of you to pull apart slowly. 

You stared into eachother eyes for a moment before he opened the door. “Bye sweetheart.” he says with a small smirk. “Bye p..”.

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Thank you for reading <3

next chapter

[abiiors]

Cold Shower

Warnings: minors dni!!! Smut, unprotected smut, she/her pronouns, the word “juxtaposition” appears because this is matty’s pov sorry. a bit cringe ngl (the foreplay bit is good tho)

wc: 2.1k

Heat has settled like a heavy blanket all over the house. 

All day Matty has been trying to figure out what’s wrong with the air conditioning. He’s not much of a handyman to begin with and now the thought of having to sacrifice his lazy day with her on stupid household appliances makes him fume even more. 

He’s only wearing thin cotton boxers, yet sweat trickles down his back in rivulets and gathers at the base of his spine. He would have gone for a swim if the sun weren’t so blazing hot outside. Instead, his mind wanders back to her and what she might be doing up in the bedroom. 

Before he left her to go inspect the sudden lack of cool air, they had both been in bed; legs intertwined, her fingers brushing his chest occasionally, his drawing circles on her hips as they both read their books. Well, he read his giant Serious book while she read her smutty trashy romance. And while he always teased her about it, he couldn’t help abandoning his book to peak into hers. 

Right as the couple on paper have their first passionate kiss in the rain. 

His frustration grows as he thinks of the soft surprised sounds she makes every time there’s unexpected intimacy on the page, almost as if she’s experiencing it herself. The way she ends up lightly gnawing on her bottom lip to stop herself from grinning wide. Matty teases her about that too; actually, he doesn’t stop teasing her until she inevitably chucks the book at him and hides her face in the pillow. 

He abandons all thoughts of fixing the AC and makes his way back to the bedroom. 

‘It’s hopeless,’ he announces loudly before he even properly enters the room, ‘I’ll call someone tomorrow but we can get a hotel room if it’s too hot for you…’ Matty trails off when there’s no response. Instead, there’s soft, even breathing. 

Her long legs are sprawled on top of the sheets, naked entirely apart from the very short hipster shorts that she wears around the house to combat the heat. And right now, they do wonders for Matty’s imagination as he stares at the curve of her ass. Then slowly at the thin tank top that sticks to the contours of her body, to the loose hair that flutter on her neck. She’s almost asleep. Almost, if it weren’t for the restless pout on her face. 

‘Baby…’ he moves towards her. 

‘Hmm?’ she responds sleepily and the soft sound makes his blood rush down south. 

‘Are you sleepy?’ He sits at the edge of the bed and takes her feet in his lap, moves one finger up her calf and watches her squirm a little.

‘No,’ she smiles at him, ‘just lazy. I can’t really sleep in this heat,’ then suddenly she remembers and props herself up on her forearm. ‘What happened to the AC?’

He shrugs, ‘I’m not a handyman.’

‘Then you’re not coming anywhere near me today,’ she shrugs in return, ‘it’s so hot I can’t even think about cuddling right now.’

‘Oh, absolutely not,’ he grabs her leg and pulls her towards him. She shrieks and laughs when he falls on top of her, sweaty bodies colliding as Matty attacks her with kisses all over her face and finally as he captures her mouth in his. 

Lying on top of her doesn’t really help with his…situation. If anything, he can feel the front of his boxers tightening as she sighs into the kiss. 

‘Babe, I know what you want,’ she speaks against his mouth, ‘but I think I'm going to melt into a puddle if we keep going.’ He’s about to open his mouth to make a lewd joke but she shuts him up with a glare. ‘Not in a good way.’

‘Alright then.’ He hooks an arm under her legs and before she has the chance to question it, she’s up in the air, being thrown over his shoulder while he practically beelines to the bathroom. 

Her ass is up in the air, right in front of his face while he fumbles with the shower controls. He expects more shrieks and laughter as soon as the cold water hits them. Instead, she lets out a loud moan that shoots straight to his dick. 

‘Fuck,’ she sighs again, ‘this feels so good!’

He lowers her gently, noses touching each other as droplets of water cling to her eyelashes and rest on her lips. ‘Better than this?’ 

Matty grinds his hips into hers and groans softly when she throws her head back. The water has already soaked through her top making it translucent. Her nipples stand out against the white fabric, pebbled and pink. ‘Nothing is better than this,’  she whispers and kisses him deeply. 

His movements are frantic, a hand coming up to protect her head as he slams her back against the wall and deepens the kiss. His tongue flicks against her lips, tasting the water and remnants of her lip balm while she palms him through his boxers. 

‘Off with these,’ she moves her hands frantically, ‘I need to feel you.’

And he needs to feel her too; so desperately that he might just try to rip her clothes off her. She tastes sweet; like the honeycomb ice cream she had been eating earlier. They don’t break the feverish kisses as he shimmies out of his boxers and Matty shivers when her hand wraps around him. 

‘Fuck!’ he groans loudly in her hair, momentarily forgetting everything as she moves her hands up and down his length. ‘Darling, you feel s–so good.’

Then almost as if he has snapped back to his senses, he hooks a finger under the band of her shorts and peels away the soaked fabric from her body. Wet curls fall into his eyes, partially obstructing his view of her but it’s not like he can keep his eyes open for long as she strokes him over and over. 

A loud gasp fills the bathroom when his fingers touch her swollen clit. Her grip on him goes slack, hands stilling in place as she moans out his name. Fingers moving, in circles, over her slit and parting her folds, he basks in the way his name sounds from her mouth. 

Matty, Matty, Matty… again and again and again, every time he teases her entrance with his fingers and grips her waist to keep her from falling. 

‘Need you, Matty,’ she whines, ‘please, PLEASE.’ And she sounds so sweet begging for him that he plunges her fingers in and kisses her hungrily to swallow her moans. 

He nearly moans in return when she clenches around his fingers, tight and wet and needy; always needy for more. He imagines how she would feel around his dick, although he knows the feel of her very well. All the groves and contours of her body, the way she tastes everywhere, the way she sounds depending on where he touches her. Her back arches off the wall, tits brushing onto his bare chest and he increases his pace.

‘Perfect girl,’ he tells her, ‘my gorgeous, perfect girl.’

She becomes more and more like putty in his hands with each thrust of his fingers. His body screams to be closer to her, closer than he already is but he needs to see her fall apart around his fingers first and by the looks of it, she’s not far away. 

‘I’m so close, baby,’ she whimpers and buries her face in his chest, ‘harder, please, ple—’ the words turn into a strangled scream when he roughly flicks her clit with his thumb. 

‘That’s it darling,’ he encourages, ‘be a good girl now.’ 

She tries to hold on longer, almost as if she’s savouring the feeling of his fingers inside her, wanting to stay in this moment as long as possible. But he hooks his fingers inside her, and finally broken moans and gasps echo around the room as Matty feels her cum all over his hand. 

He is so tempted to bring the hand up to his mouth and get a taste but he keeps moving his fingers in and out. Lets her ride it out until she can finally open her eyes. 

Then, as if he’s possessed, he holds out the hand in front of her. ‘Lick it clean,’ he rasps, low and barely restrained, still a command. ‘All of it.’

Her cheeks flush and he almost laughs at the juxtaposition. Seconds ago she had been screaming all sorts of obscene things and now the thought of licking her own release off his hand is what makes her blush. But she maintains steady eye contact with him, pupils dilated, eyes wide, water clinging to her eyelashes as she slowly does as she’s told. Then, for extra measure, swirls her tongue around his fingers and hollows her cheeks to suck them clean. 

‘You’ll be the death of me, you know?’ he groans softly and her answering hum sends a jolt through his whole body. 

‘Kiss me?’ she asks sweetly once she’s done. 

And Matty’s more than eager. Now all he tastes is sweet honeycomb ice cream mixed with the taste of her and for a moment all other thoughts go out the window. That is until she pumps him harder and lines him up against her once again. 

‘Want me inside you again?’ he smirks.

‘Will you give me what I want if I say yes?’ she asks coyly. 

Matty moves closer, trapping her between him and the wall, and makes sure that his very hard cock sits right between her folds. The sensation intense enough to drive both of them crazy but he’s relentless and determined. 

‘Oh how generous of you,’ he teases and presses onto her further. She moans again and looks at him desperately. 

‘I want you, I want you, I’ll keep saying it,’ she breathes, ‘I want–fuck,’ he pushes his tip inside and nudges her to continue. 

‘You…’ she moans right in his ear as he pushes in the rest of the way. 

For one tender moment, his heart swells at the thought of her wanting him so much. Her saying it to him over and over again, and not just in the bedroom. Not just for sex. 

But then she drags her nails down his back and all tender thoughts fly out of his head. Matty unleashes himself, thrusting into her over and over, recklessly, hard and fast. What was meant to be slow love making on a hot summer day has turned into so much more. 

The shampoo bottles fall and clatter on the floor as she grabs the rack to support herself. But he doesn’t slow down and she doesn’t tell him to slow down. She leaves scratches on his back; a reward and an encouragement. Softly bites onto his shoulder to muffle her screams. And although he would love to be all marked up for the whole world to see, he wants to hear her screaming his name much much more. 

‘Louder, baby,’ he commands, ‘the louder you scream for me, the harder you get it.’

Instantly, she obliges and lets go of all inhibitions. There’s only her and her scent that surrounds him and her voice that echoes over and over again. 

They grab at each other frantically, like they would fall apart if either let go until some body wash clatters to the floor and she laughs. 

‘God, Matty, you drive me crazy,’ she whimpers as she clenches around him one more time, tighter and tighter. She’s on the edge again, ready to let go again. 

‘Cum for me again, baby,’ Matty whispers in her ear and bites her earlobe, ‘I know you want to.’

She nods with her eyes closed, breathing hard. And he keeps thrusting into her at a bruising pace even when she falls apart for the second, on and on and on till the pressure at the base of his spine almost makes him lose it. 

‘Matty,’ she pants but she’s incapable of forming words, forming any thoughts. So cock-drunk and blissed out that he moans at the expression on her face. Moments later, his legs tremble as he feels himself spill into her over and over again. Until all he sees is black for a solid two seconds. 

Miraculously, they hold each other up on shaking, trembling legs; still locked together, panting in tandem. The shower is still running; even now when the water is nice and cold, both of them feel the heat coursing through their veins. 

‘God, we’re like animals in heat,’ she laughs into his chest. ‘We were supposed to cool down!’

‘We will,’ he kisses the top of her head, ‘in five more minutes. Or ten more minutes. Or whenever I can bring myself to move away from you.’

[wutheringmights]

I finished rereading The Song of the Lioness quartet by Tamora Pierce a couple of days back. I already talked about the first book in a post that garnered more attention than it deserved. I guess we were all happily reminiscing about the menstruation scenes together, or Tortall fans are so starved for content they (we) will reblog anything.(Understandable. I too am starved for a thriving Tortall fandom.)

I'm too lazy to make separate posts about each book, so we're just going to do a mega post covering the second, third, and fourth book.

Unlike last time, I will be giving a little criticism to this series. I still love it endlessly, but there were a few things about the prose I thought was interesting that I want to talk about a bit.

So, without further ado~

In the Hand of the Goddess

I think this one is my favorite one, despite how rushed the plot it. It contains all of my favorite plot points, like awkward romances with George and Jon, attending knight lessons, and a little summer war. Fun stuff.

But it definitely feels rushed. I really wish someone told Pierce to make this a 12 book series, expanding on Alanna's years at the castle. It would have gone so far to better develop the romances and the friendships in these books.

I am fascinated by what Pierce chose to skim over. Characters would die or kiss for the first time off screen, with the prose resuming with Alanna reacting to it. It demonstrates an understanding of character work that I personally adore and try to emulate in my own writing-- the real bones of a story being in how characters respond to fantastic events as opposed to the fantastic events themselves.

Also, the whole veil spell Roger cast in objectively stupid, and I mean that in the most affectionate way possible. You're telling me that Roger used magic to make Alanna lose interest in doing anything about the obviously evil things he was doing? That's fucking hilarious. You know an editor came back to Pierce and asked her to come up with a reason why Alanna wasn't just going to spring into action at the first sign of Roger trying to kill her, only for Pierce to come up with this. It's so silly. I love it.

Woman Who Rides Like A Man

Did this book age poorly? Yes, but not as badly as I remembered. That's not a stirring defense, and it's really not meant to be.

The Bahzir are a mess of Orientalism, and Pierce definitely deserves criticism for not only the way she wrote them but for the ways in which she frames their cultural practices as something that needs to be fixed. Having Alanna want to force them to change their culture to suit her beliefs is not a great look for both the character and the writer. And that's not even getting into the whole assimilation plotline.

But I did enjoy Pierce's attempts to expand on the definition of womanhood, especially as a part of Alanna learning to embrace femininity. There is this running thread in these last two books of Alanna learning about all the different ways to be a woman and choosing for herself what her gender means to her. It's not done particularly well, and anyone looking for a revolutionary examination of gender roles and identity is going to be sorely disappointed. But there's an attempt here that I can't help but appreciate.

This book is also where Pierce starts to slow the plot down, which lends it to having the most reasonable pacing out of the bunch. That being said, it's also the book where the lack of development for a bunch of the side characters start to hurt. I really wish Gary or Raoul joined Alanna in the desert. Raoul gets his moment in the sun with the Protector of the Small books, but Gary remains largely forgettable. In fact, I spent this entire read-through convinced this man dies at the end of the last book, if only because I can't remember where he appears in any of the other books.

Lioness Rampant

This book somehow has the improved pacing of the third book while still feeling rushed. The quest for the Dominion Jewel really should have been it's own book, if only to give Thayet and Buri more room for development. Thayet in particular really needs her moment to shine, especially when she continues to be an important character in the other series.

But do you know who did get a lot of screen time? Liam.

Remembered shit about this guy before going into this book. I could only vaguely recalled disliking him as a kid, but not as much as I venomously hated Jon. (Speaking of which-- I love the way this man is realistically shitty. Him getting dumped by Alanna is always my favorite scene.) But Liam? Fuck that guy. Holy shit. I give full applause to Pierce for portraying the important milestones every girl goes through growing up, which includes having a situationship that is so shitty that it becomes essential character development.

Roger's return feels very... cheesy? I think Alex should have stepped up to be the final villain on the story. Unlike Roger, Alex was Alanna's friend. They have history. The betrayal would have imbued that final fight with so many more emotions than it ultimately had. I also would have liked Alanna to have at least meaningfully talked to Alex sometime before the climax.

Honestly, it's impressive how reactive Alanna is as a character in the last half of the book. She doesn't seek out how to stop Roger's plan, or fix Thom, or anything. Other characters make plans and she just... waits for something to go wrong.

That being said, by virtue of Alanna's relationships with George, Liam, and Jon all happening sometime in this plot, this book becomes a good place to look to get the full berth of how Pierce handles romances. Which, I love her approach. The romances are never over the top or, for lack of a better word, too romantic. It's very down to earth, with characters dating, marrying, or breaking up for realistic reasons.

Jon and Alanna were friends who broke up because they had different life plans. Liam and Alanna broke up for having fundamentally different values. As much as I bitch about how shitty Jon and Liam are, they're not cartoonishly evil. They're just a little shitty the way most of your exes will be. Jon and Liam are men could find love with someone else. They just aren't suited for Alanna.

Meanwhile, the most romantic things George does are wait for her and be supportive. He doesn't fight or get territorial. He makes his feelings clear, then waits for Alanna's cues. Alanna definitely loves him, but she ends up with him in the end because their lifestyles and core beliefs meld together. There's no grand romantic gesture or whirlwind affairs. They are just a good pair.

I have read stories with far heavier focuses on romance, and none of those couples feel as perfect as Alanna and George. Those stories prioritize all the gooey moments over showing why the main couple should get together. For how little romantic interactions they have, you believe these two could have a successful marriage. Perfect stuff.

---

Over all, I really enjoyed rereading these books. For all my griping, I still love the story. I love Alanna. She's a character who is fundamental to my soul. No matter where I am in life, I will always want to open these books and find her again, to walk back into Tortall and join her on her quest to be a lady knight.

My copies of the series come with forewards from a previous edition. In one of them, Pierce wrote that this series started off as an adult fantasy story that was much darker and edgier. I need to know what that story looks like, what happened in it. Pierce can claim as she wants that she hardly remembers what it looks like, but I refuse to believe that. Release the unedited first draft, Pierce. I am begging you.

[klausinamarink]

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished

ok wow a lot of you really love my Eddie in the UD with Will au and want that in fruition, huh… so by popular demand here’s like a very rough oneshot. Basically a first draft that sets up the overall plot until i write a better one someday in the future

Edit: I lied, here’s the other parts (ongoing): Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 now on ao3!

Wayne doesn’t hear the news of Will Byers’ disappearance until the afternoon workers come in. Within minutes, the whole plant is buzzing with bewilderment and sympathy. But there is also an underline of fear that struck some of the hearts of the family men. Hawkins hadn’t seen any child disappearance cases, at least not since Wayne moved to the town in the last decade.

He is worried about the boy, especially for the Byers family. He doesn’t know Joyce too well, but they’ve talked plenty at Melvard’s with stories of their boys being quietly mischievous. Wayne sent a silent prayer that Will can be found soon and bring his mother peace.

He doesn’t speed the drive way home, but it’s damn close. He just wants Eddie to be home safe without some boogeyman taking him away.

Thankfully, his nephew is on the couch and watching a movie. He greets Wayne with a lazy wave, “Weren’t enough leftovers so I made some dinner. Hope you won’t die from my veggie soup.”

Wayne ruffles his hair - which had grown past his ears now - and sits next to him. “You heard about the Byers boy?”

“Hm, yeah. Everyone was talking about it. Saw Jonathan putting up the flyers too.” Eddie says, his eyes still on the TV.

Wayne puts an arm around him, making Eddie look at him. “Ya know that if you ever go missing, I’ll search even the lands of Hell for you.”

Eddie’s quiet. He stares with misty eyes, which he quickly blinks away. Then he lightly shoves at Wayne’s ribs. “‘Course, you would, old man. I’m the only family you care about.”

“Hey, don’t go disrespecting your cousins like that.” Wayne jokes back, making Eddie laugh. The two of them watch the movie in comfortable silence until Wayne has the mind to get up and shower.

—

It’s a double shift today. It means extra pay but it also means Wayne wouldn’t be home until early morning. He tells Eddie this before leaving and Eddie says it’s fine as usual, only that he had band practice so he’ll be coming home late. Wayne tells him make sure to stay safe too.

The next morning comes as the second day of Will Byers’ disappearance. Wayne is predictably sore and tired, but his mind remains sharp as stone.

It’s why he doesn’t miss that Eddie’s van isn’t parked next to the trailer.

The small pebble of concern forms in his stomach, but he brushes it off. Eddie’s been going to go to school early lately so it’s not unusual.

But that pebble feels like a rock when he heads to the kitchen and finds no note on the table.

When Wayne first took in Eddie, who was skittish and mute back then, he started writing notes and leaving them next to Eddie’s plate of breakfast. It was little things like ‘eggs are better runny’ and ‘don’t remember toast being this toasted’. A way to get the boy to slowly open up. Not only it worked, but Eddie soon started writing his own notes, mostly of jokes that always made Wayne laugh heartedly.

Even at seventeen, Eddie never missed a day of breakfast without a note.

Wayne makes himself take a deep breath. There wasn’t any reason to get worried. Eddie might’ve been tired or was in some kind of rush. But even then, he would make doodles to make up a lack of written words.

Just check him at the school. He’ll still be there, even if he’s missing classes.

So Wayne leaves and drives en route to Hawkins High, the secret bane of his existence. (Not that he’ll confess that to Eddie. His nephew already has enough of an ego.)

But as he turns at Cherry, he nearly crashes himself into the trees. Because at the corner, parked hazardously at the side, is Eddie’s van.

Wayne gets out in record time, but forces himself to a slow pace. He hopes that anger wouldn’t be on his face when he finds Eddie on the driver’s seat.

But Eddie isn’t in the driver’s seat. In fact, the door is half open. As if it was meant to close but had no force behind it. The front of the van also looks crushed in.

That pebble or rock in his gut grows bigger and heavier when Wayne spots a red handprint stained on the wheel.

Somewhere further in the woods, the search party calls out Will’s name. Wayne is the only one to call out for another.

—

Earlier

Eddie scowled at his bandaged left wrist. He mentally sent a thousand curses for Luka Belinski to jail for a thousand years. The crime? He showed off how easily he can flip his switch knife without getting cut, creating a jealous curiosity within Eddie to try and do the same action. Now his ability to play another instrument was impaired forever!

Seriously, fuck the clarinet players.

He sighed, starting up his van’s engine. He pulled out of the school parking lot, waving to a few peers as he hit the road. He waited until the school was out of view that he changed the radio to David Bowie.

He was in a bad mood. Sue him. Not that anybody can find out.

As he sang along to “Watch That Man”, he felt his left palm oddly sticky. He lifted it up and saw that some of the blood had dripped out his bandage.

“Shit-” was all he said before something crashed in the front of his van. He swore even more loudly, turning the wheel too quickly and pressing the brakes. He thought he heard a loud wail before the van went off the road and finally stopped.

Eddie shakily got out of the van, nearly falling over. His hand pressed against his chest, feeling his wild heartbeat. Before he could inspect the damage, he heard a pained growl. He whipped around and saw a thing standing up long and tall with a face that opened up like the devil’s Venus Flytrap.

What the fuck?!

He ran into the woods. Yeah, nope nope nope fuck that.

Branches snapped behind him and he felt a clawed hand grabbing the back of his jacket. He fell to the ground, screaming and kicking his legs out as he was dragged. His good hand reached out to the scratch the monster’s arm, but his nails barely dug into the gross skin.

There was a weird swoop of vertigo as if Eddie was thrown up in the air. He remained on the ground though, but not until he was actually thrown across. His back hit against a tree, knocking him out for a second.

When his vision cleared, it was to the horrific closeup of the Venus Flytrap face. Eddie opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The monster growled, its weird toothy mouth drooling over him. He shut his eyes, hoping that he would die painlessly and that Wayne wouldn’t find his body.

Then the monster growled again, with some weird fleshy sounds. Eddie dared to peek an eye open. Its face-mouth was shut and it looked around. Then it hopped to all fours and ran off to another direction.

He forced himself to wait for a full minute before he ran again.

There were few things Eddie realized. One: he had no idea where the fuck he was. Two: he had no idea what the fuck was that thing. Three: holy shit monsters were real and he almost died. Four: was it snowing?

He slowed down his run and reached a hand out. A few snowflakes slowly landed on his fingers, but it didn’t melt or felt cold. It wavered around before he blew them off.

He looked around, trying to guess which way was the road, and saw even something more weird. There were vines practically everywhere. The ground was littered with them. They curled around tree trunks and hang off the branches. Eddie was pretty sure that none of that even existed in the Hawkins woods.

Something blurred to his far right and growled. Eddie went back to running.

He looked back to see if that monster was back and fell off a small ledge. He tumbled and rolled with a yelp, feeling one of his ankles spike in pain. He scrambled to get back on his feet and made direct eye contact with Will Byers.

Seeing the kid’s missing posters everywhere had Eddie memorize the face. Bowlcut hair with a dimpled smile and cheerful eyes. But the kid’s eyes were fearful as he hid under a den of twisted roots.

“Uh…” Eddie said because what the fuck, he just found the missing kid.

Another growl, closer this time.

Will’s eyes snapped up, gesturing wildly to Eddie. “Here, here, quick!”

Eddie crawled in record time into the root den, barely fitting next to Will. He clamped a hand over his mouth as the sounds of the monster approached right above them. It made more sniffing and growling sounds, each one sounding closer…

He glanced at Will, who held a small rock in his hand. For a second, Eddie thought if the kid was gonna hit the monster with it. Instead, Will swiftly threw the rock to his left where it landed loudly against the bushes.

The monster roared so loud Eddie thought his ears burst. It scampered off to the rock’s direction and then everything was quiet.

Will poked his head out and nodded, “It’s gone.” Then he looked at Eddie and Eddie looked at Will.

He brought his hand down from his mouth, suddenly feeling lightheaded. “Don’t tell them I listened to Bowie.”

The last thing Eddie saw and heard before fainting was Will tilting his head in confusion and asking, “What?”

— —

tagging these lovely people for their excitement over this silly au: @unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @demolitionjetstar @hbyrde36

[fujii-draws]

Hi I just wanted to say that I love Ribbons and Aimilios so much, they're so cute and sweet!!!

May I make a humble request for Ribbons and Amilios fluff,,,

I must know these dweebs are happy and would love to hear how they eventually fell for eachother!!!

AAA!! I’ve thought about this ask so much. And I’m happy to finally deliver!!!

——————

Ironically enough, Ribbons and Aimilios didn’t start out as ‘great friends’ from the jump.

Unlike main game. After Aimilios convinces her to join Wigglytuff’s guild on a whim, their relationship is… well.

Firstly, Aimilios tends to get slightly annoyed by Ribbon’s lack of preparation. Laziness. And hasty behavior. Feeling like she isn’t taking his dream as seriously as he thought she would.

And Ribbons— doesn’t like Aimilios for his stick-in-the-butt, teacher’s pet attitude. And how he never trusts her with things like the treasure bag/map. Constantly putting the load on himself, leaving her with nothing to do.

They still are on good terms! They do enjoy certain aspects of eachother! It’s just that they also dislike other aspects of their partner. Which; results in Ribbon’s teasing of the Riolu. (Playing ‘keep-away’, hiding certain items to get on his nerves.) Which was in good fun in hopes to lighten him up more. That isn’t to say it wasn’t mean-spirited at times.

And Aimilios in turn; rats on her whenever she becomes too troublesome to deal with. His clean-freak nature also causes him to misplace a lot of her items— (Which, Ribbons looked almost ready to bite Aimilios when her brown Patsy bow went missing.)(Until he told her where he put it, deciding to nip him another day.) And in-general their relationship starts on a rocky start. And why they fail so many jobs in the beginning due to their lack of coordination and teamwork.

They like eachother enough to work together… but not to see eye-to-eye. Aimilios starts to wonder if asking Ribbons to join him was a mistake… and that her heroism at Beach Cave was a major fluke.

…until Drowzee kidnaps Azurill.

Aimilios was Frozen when confronted with the hypnosis Pokémon. An outlaw? And not only that— a Psychic type? The Riolu was nothing short of terrified. That is, until Ribbons piped up. Barking towards the criminal with not a single drop of fear in her voice. This, in turn give the Aura Pokémon the confidence to fight back aswell.

(…This is also When their first really positive interaction happens, Aimilios being the one to reciprocate Ribbons joking-tendency with a jab of his own. Stating how starving she must be for her stomach to growl like an Ursaring. Till his stomach does aswell, making both young Pokémon’s laugh.) (And later that night when they’re in their haybeds, he whispers how brave/cool she was today.)

(Which makes Ribbons face light up, before trying to play it off like ‘Yeah that’s cool.’ Until her tail betrays her—giving away how happy that compliment made her. Just from the sheer velocity alone.) (She tells Aimilios to shut up when he laughs at the endearing display.)

After that… they start to trust eachother a little more. Aimilios shares more items with her. Lets her lead more Job Requests, snitching on her less. Actually even aiding her in mischievous/morally questionable activities, like steal A/S Rank jobs.

Chatot is super strict about what Jobs they take as junior Explorers—Aimilios only agreeing because he wants to prove himself. He feels the rush of adrenaline when they escape the Guild with their newfound jobs, Ribbons patting him on the back and ‘welcoming him to the dark side’.

“If Chatot catches us, we’ll never hear the end of it.” The breathless riolu stated. Looking over to his partner, who had a toothy grin plastered on her face.

“Then we won’t get caught.” Ribbons responded with confidence. Playfully placing her paw on his snout.

“Cmooon—That birdbrain won’t know what hit him! As long as you don’t tattle!~”

“…You’re a horrible influence.” The Riolu huffed out, smiling despite his backhanded comment.

On the flip side, Ribbons stops stealing items away from the Aura Pokémon as much like she used to. (She’s still teasing the ballocks out of him. Only difference being that she knows when to stop when it actually starts to upset him.) (The Riolu is still sticking his tongue out in retribution to the Eevee’s crimes. >:<.) (She blows a raspberry back >:3)

And… they start to notice certain things they really like about the other.

Ribbons loves how intelligent Aimilios is. The reason she was so butthurt towards him the first time…was because she was jealous. He was clearly the brains of their little rag-tag duo. She still doesn’t know why Aimilios chose her as his partner. He could do so much better. She also adores how he’s able to be gutless and quick-witted despite his fears. In Ribbons eyes—That’s bravery. Not the dumb, ‘Fuck-it-we-Ball’ mentality she has.

Something else she likes but can’t wrap her head around with the type of Pokémon they meet, is his kindness. She doesn’t know how he does it. Or why he’s able to tolerate so many of their clients. Ribbons… also views that as another strength he had, but she lacked— Arcues knows how short-tempered the Eevee was. And certain Pokémon began to take advantage of Aimilios . Which makes Ribbons extremely protective of him—standing protectively infront of the riolu during fights despite her size. (Around this time; Team skull.) She hates those punks so much. Ohhh do they make her blood boil.

She feels her heart twisting into knots when she sees Aimilios lost all sparkle in his eye. Only dejectedly laying on his haybed with sunken pupils as he lost the opportunity to join the expedition. The Eevee secretly wishes him a goodnight, brushing his fur with her tounge. Before returning to her bed. Praying that he’ll get picked—even if it meant giving up her spot if she got in.

And Aimilios… hoo boy.

Much like in-game, he’s enamored by how fearless she is. How she’s able to speak her mind to the largest and strongest of Pokémon. (You should’ve seen his face when she insulted The Great Dusknoir straight to his face.) He draws a ton of strength from her. He wouldn’t even be accomplishing his dream if it wasn’t for her.

Something else he loves about her… is her jokes. She has some of the most cornball humor to grace the Grass-continents. You can hear the entire guild groaning whenever she makes one.

So imagine to Ribbon’s surprise when she turns to face her Riolu partner one day— covering his mouth with his paws with tears in his eyes. Trying so desperately not to laugh. (She makes it her mission to make his ass laugh and admit to her face that she’s funny.)(It’s an on-going gag even after evolution.) And overall just how infectious her silly, carefree attitude is.

(She’s also the reason why he stops being so much of a people-pleaser. Aimilios didn’t notice it at first, but squabbling and being frustrated with her at times in the beginning… it helped him grow a bit of a spine.)

And that’s when the seeds of their friendship and other feelings begin to sprout.

During their first Expedition with Bidoof, Ribbons sees first hand just how much Aimilios is growing— taking more of the lead and being in charge. Not because he doesn’t trust her— but because he’s gaining confidence for himself. (Her cheeks do not become tinted with pink when she witnesses this.)

And when Aimilios is mere moments away from fleeing from the Groudon-illusion. He sees Ribbons start to grin. Exclaiming how she’s been itching for a real fight. (Which also doesn’t make him fluster up like a Red Gummi. Nope. Natta.)(That’s his hubris-filled maniac and no one else’s.)

And… they mutually get flustered watching the Volbeat Geyser. Aimilios exclaiming just how beautiful it is while Ribbon’s eyes lock on him—Before she laying her head on his shoulder. Making the startled Riolu look her way. Before carefully closing the distance, wrapping his arm around her.

(The guild members absolutely tease those two mercilessly for that display when trecking back to the Guild, and a few more days afterwards.) (Aimilios covers his face in embarrassment while Ribbons tells them to screw off.)

After the expedition to Fogbound Lake— their teamwork and rapport improve drastically. Being able to take on a number of jobs like that hadn’t before. Thanks to their newfound coordination and ability to be on the same wavelength. Complimenting eachother on a job well done.

They do little gestures for eachother to show the other how much they care. (Aimilios helps organize her Treasure bag with permission. Studying Unown runes/Gatekeeping duty. Patching her up from bad jobs.) (Very adamant about the last one.) (Scolding her for barely taking care of herself. Not noticing her staring at him adoringly.)

While Ribbons tends to spare him from particularly mean jokes. Getting actively frustrated towards Pokémon who treat Aimilios slightly wrong. Grooming him with her tongue during nights at the Guild. (He’s so focused on guild work that he forgets to take care of himself.)

The flaws they once detested about the other become things they now love about one another.

Ribbon’s laziness evolves into her teaching Aimilios to relax. Aimilios’s judgmental views are now more worrisome things he notices; asking Ribbons to exercise caution whenever she takes a job alone.

Ribbons listens to the riolu go on and on about a certain book he’s reading with stars in his eyes, gazing softly towards the aura pup. Aimilios listens to all of her bad jokes, barely stifling his laughter around her.

Aimilios watching lovingly at her ability to make connections with other Pokémon effortlessly, even with how dumb she feels.(He wishes he wouldn’t call herself such things.) While Ribbons loves just how intellectual he is, not minding his trouble with looking Pokémon in the eye.

They enjoy eachothers company so much. Becoming nearly nigh inseparable. Going from two, squabbling kids. To being attached to the other’s hip. Substituting for their partner’s weaknesses with their strength. Almost in a Yin-Yang fashion. (Opposites attract afterall ;3)They become co-dependent. (Which is very much a flaw… but it’s the one they never grow out of.)

And After that…! Aimilios is the first one the catch feelings! Mainly bc Ribbons is denser than the Relic Fragment tied around the Aura Pokémon’s neck. Wondering if some divine intervention was punishing him. That and Ribbons just thought she saw Aimilios as a really good friend as the explanation for why she felt fuzzy around him. (I’m not joking.)(You underestimate her singular braincell.)

The aura pup goes to Dusknoir for advice. Trying to be as VAUGE as possible towards the ghost-type when referring to certain ‘Pokémon A’ that ‘Pokémon B’ (which is NOT Aimilios.) would like to get to know better.

Dusknoir immediately catches on, finding this literal case of ‘puppy love’ to be endearing. (And absolutely entertaining.)(He promises to not tell a soul, with Aimilios responding ‘I-I didn’t mean anything by it!! Why are you swearing secrecy on something totally not connected to me—!’)

Although Ribbons is oblivious— her watching Aimilios nearly get murdered by Grovyle made her feel upset. Really upset. Watching him barely breathe while Dusknoir carried the two of them… Ribbons with the last on her strength crawled over to him (Much to the wraith’s dismay, imploring her to not hurt herself.) …Before she curls into him, sniffling a little.

No one else but Dusknoir is able to detach the tearful Eevee from her partner. The cloaked specter only having done so to make sure the Riolu was healed and patched up properly. (That didn’t stop the Eevee from crying out for her partner in her sleep.)(…The ghost-type gently brings the Riolu to her haybed—Ribbons immediately curling into and purring.)

And then they’re dragged into the Paralyzed future. Where their friendship is heavily tested.

The two don’t say anything at first, but hold slight resentment towards one another, mainly towards Ribbons not using her D.Scream, and Aimilios not using his aura sensing/sharing so much information with that damned ghost.

So when looking at the stockade lights, an argument breaks out. Just a screaming match between two terrified kids that want nothing more than to escape the hell they’ve been forced into.

They go back and forth, back and forth on who’s to blame. Until Aimilios’s angry screams slowly transform into uncontrollable sobs. Telling Ribbons that she was right and it was his fault. Ribbon’s heart nearly shatters as she watches Aimilios fall to the ground holding himself.

She immediately rushes to now, sobbing riolu. Telling Aimilios that she was being stupid and she only snapped in anger— begging for him to stop crying. Because if he does, then sh-she’ll…

She pulls him into a hug. Aimilios clings onto her like his life depended on it— with the Eevee embracing her partner so tightly. Muttering apologies like a broken record. The scene goes about the same, the only other change being how Ribbons looks back towards the way they ran from. Staring at the abyss-like cavern in fear of the ghost-type pursuing them. (She shakes it off. She can’t afford to be scared. She has to be strong. For him.)

So Ribbons continues to protect Aimilios during their run from the revenant they trusted. Constantly picking him up, getting infront of him to take hits during dungeons, etc. and it helps Aimilios… continuing to draw strength from his partner. (Even when he’s begging her to stop nearly getting herself maimed in the dungeon. Which falls on deaf ears; Both Pokémon exchanging somewhat bitter glances.)

So how hilarious is it when Aimilios watches Ribbon’s back away in fear for the first time. Being completely frozen just like the time in the future. Unable to retort anything Dusknoir said. Being reduced to tears. Her ears pinning back as her pupils dilated to cat-slits. Breathing heavily as the open clearing spun from vertigo.

Oh how hysterical! Oh how simply entertaining it was to the ghost-type!!

But Aimilios wasn’t laughing.

Not one bit.

He gets infront of his now, trembling Eevee partner; angrily baring his fangs about how they weren’t Dusknoir’s puppets— before yelling loud enough that his scream emenanted an aura. An Aura large enough that made Dusknoir flinch, and even Primal Dialga react—squinting annoyedly towards the pup.

(If Aimilios took a quick glimpse from behind—he would’ve seen a glossy-eyed Eevee, staring up at him in complete awe.)

That same night when they returned to the present— Ribbon’s had a nightmare about Dusknoir. Waking up in a cold sweat as a voice called out so desperately for her. She opens her eyes, only to be greeted with a very worried-looking Riolu.

She takes a moment to process why Aimilios looked so worried, before it all came back to her, every horrible word she spouted towards her precious partner. And how he was still trying to see if she was okay after everything she said. Ribbons cries her heart out—Aimilios now being the one to hold his tearful partner.

When she’s finally shed her tears… the Riolu offers to let her sleep in his haybed for the night. Ribbons hesitates, before nodding silently. Not wanting to use her voice in fear of blubbering again.

Sharing the haybed was a good idea from the way Ribbon’s clung to Aimilios— almost immediately sleeping in the comfort and safety of her partner’s arms. While Aimilios is looking at her… it hits him all at once. How small she is. How fragile she is. Even with how brave the sleeping fox was. He saw her terrified for the first time.

Just how many times did she help him? How many nights had Ribbons listened to him. Comforted him. Gave him confidence. And exactly how many times did he repay the favor…?

This epiphany only makes the Riolu hold onto the frail Eevee even tighter.

Ribbons senses this change when she feels Aimilios is the one starting to take as many hits and she does for him. Confidently asking to lead the party at times as to make the load easier on her. And… it nearly clicks. Ribbons nearly figures out her weird, fuzzy emotions. But keeps suppressing them; save the world first— then weird butterflies in tummy!

And it’s When Ribbons is disappearing— it’s in that moment she finally realizes her feelings towards the aura pup. But…

Rather than making the grand gesture of revealing how she truly felt— she bites her tongue. Hard. Was she really going to make her goodbye even harder on Aimilios? After what she pulled? After lying to him?

…even after she returns. She never tells him. In Ribbons eye’s? She lost her opportunity the second she hurt Aimilios. So much. with her stupid sacrifice. With her stupid words towards the stressed pup in the future. Not feeling worthy of being anything more with the Riolu out of guilt.

(That, plus Future Trio returning adds a bunch more to their plate before they can figure it out.)

Speaking of Which, they act as wing-Pokémon for the two, the three older mons almost playing a game of Cupid with Ribbons and Aimilios. (With Ribbons gaining help from the two grass-types, and Aimilios from the ghost.)(Those three see how much those two are holding back from one another and by the legends they are going to help these kids.)

It takes an absurd amount of time. But…

Ironically enough? The one who’s braver enough to take the first step… is Aimilios.

He asks Ribbons to walk with him towards the Beach, the same one where their journey began. Aimilios also no-so-subtly waited to make his confession when the Krabby blew bubbles. (Ribbons stares at him knowingly and smugly.)(He tells her to ‘B-be quiet—!’ and listen to what he has to say.)

And it’s just… the most corniest love confession. Everything about it. The setting. The bubbles… it’s so overly cheesy and sentimental. Just like Aimilios.

And Ribbons feels her smile faltering more and more when he goes on— before she starts crying unexpectedly. Aimilios asks what’s wrong— hoping for them to be happy tears rather than sad ones. And unfortunately; It’s the latter.

Ribbons tells Aimilios to not waste his time on her. To find someone better—someone who won’t hurt him. She spills her guts about why she was so hesitant to confess for so long.

“…You’re afraid.”

“E-eh..?! I-I mean…” Ribbons looks away, her tail coyly rubbing the side of her shoulder. “I guess…”

“T-then don’t be..!” The Riolu declared— hovering his fists infront of his chest. “I-I want you to be brave..! Be—“

“The bravest ever.” It was astonishing how the two Pokémon read eachother’s mind— finishing the sentence Aimilios begun in unison.

After that I have a little animatic idea in the tune of ‘Best Worst Mistake’ with those two. Which near the end of it… ends with the Aura Pokémon picking up Ribbons and spinning her— to then connect foreheads.

Only for a cyan light to wrap around the two Pokémon… what emerges from it, being a Sylveon and Lucario.

Seeing themselves evolve at the same time… they laugh with tears in their eyes. Ribbons tackles the hell out of Aimilios as their limbs are entangled on the same beach they met. Tails wildly wagging as they embrace eachother. Not minding the sand getting stuck to their fur.

…Future Trio is witnessing all of this happen in real time. With Celebi nearly chuckling as she watches the grass and ghost-types be on the verge of tears.

The two Pokémon go to the trio hours later— telling them how it’s official. Grovyle puts his hands in the Sylveon’s shoulder’s—kneeling as he exclaims just how proud he is. On the other side of the bluff— Dusknoir is telling Aimilios the same thing— cupping the Lucario’s face in near tears. Bellowing out just how far the Lucario has come. (Ribbons and Aimilios Are NOT choked up by their gestures. They both have leftover sand in their eyes. That’s why they’re crying.)

Their relationship is still relatively the same. Ribbons being the same, playful and gutsy girl she is. Playing harmless pranks on her partner. Being overly protective of him, etc. While Aimilios remains the clever pup that he is. Letting Ribbons gnaw on him arm whenever she gets bite-y, keeping track of their shared items. Cleaning her matted tail and adding Garcedia flowers from Shaymin peak… That isn’t to say that their relationship is perfect— still finding themselves hitting bumps along the road and arguing. The main difference being that they’re more mature— and aren’t kids anymore. (It’s us vs the problem, not me vs you) type growth. (Even if it takes awhile to get there with the Lucario’s self-loathing issues.)

That being said, Ribbons loves PDA w/ Aimilios. Even when the poor Lucario flusters. (She stops when he’s about to turn as red as a Cherri Berry.)(That isn’t to say he’s being spared when they return to the bluff >:3)

Yet ironically enough, whenever they’re behind closed doors; it’s the reverse with Aimilios flustering her right back. He’s been able to do so at the start of Post-Game—The only difference being that he’s gotten much more consistent in finding the Sylveon’s weak points. (Ribbons hates him for it.)(How dare he use her own powers against her. She isn’t supposed to be the blubbering mess.)

(Also they begin to share their haybed in the beginning of post-game—Constantly waking the other up to protect them from their nightmare lest they have one.)(They never separated it since.)(…Well okay maybe ONE TIME but THATS FOR ANOTHER DAY >:3)

[Tl;dr: They squabble and get annoyed by eachother. Before they become overly codependent/protective of the other. A silly, unkept, mischievous Eevee/Sylveon—with her stressed-out, lanky, goody-two shoes Riolu/Lucario partner.]

(+ some old art I never shared for y’all’s troubles)

[riniworld]

bloody night for our love

YANDERE!knight oc x PRINCESS!f!reader

summary//senor just wanted to keep you,after all aren't you two meant to be?

warnings//obsession,yandere behavior,death,killing,blood

reference//you,she/her,my lady,y/n

a/n: Here you had already developed your relationship with Senor because I'm too lazy to write a whole fic about that (and lacking from ideas)

like after two or three weeks?

it was supposed to be a 'family dinner' but everything has destroyed.

you weren't at wrong,you won't apologize.

"i'm not that little child anymore! she can't control me! "

you walked angrily to your room, sinking in your thoughts.

you entered your room and threw yourself on your bed,buried your face in the pillow.

you don't want to cry but who are you fooling?..you don't stand a chance in front of the queen, if she said something it will be done.

you understand how she hate you and why but you too didn't show her your face alot,you either at your garden or in the village.

she don't have the right aftet all what she did, to tell you she can't stand you anymore and what? you should get married!

it's not your fault, you're just a victim in this forbidden relationship.

finally you let the pressure inside your chest get out in a little sobs

waking up at the sunshine and the birds singing would be a good feeling, if you weren't in this state.

getting yourself up with a groan,you don't want to argue with the queen and ruin your day.

So you asked to have breakfast in your room today.

senor has wondered all around the palace to see you

usually at this time you'll be having a breakfast with your sister so he'll get the chance to get lost looking at you, but where were you today?

he have to start his day with your smiling face.

did you went to the village already? didn't he told you to not go without him?

his head filled with ideas from all sorts.

he decided to ask the servants even if it will cause some suspension.

he felt relieved when he knew that you're in your room but then it hit him that something might have happened to you.

knock knock

senor opened the door in a rush when he heard the permission to enter.

you were sitting at a small table drinking tea.

"m'lady are you okay?" he closed the door behind him.

"eh senor? what the matter why are you so worried?"

"you didn't come out so i thought something happened, are you okay?"

you laughed nervously "i just got lazy to get out".

"Are you lying?" he said as he got closer to you.

"pardon?"

"i know when you lie y/n, so what happened?"

you sighed..In the short time you have known Senor, you have learned that he has an anger issues,so you avoided making him angry at all costs. but he always knew if you hide something from him.

"well...

"WHAT!"

"shh please senor someone will hear you"

"i don't f care if someone hear what do you mean she want to marry you to someone?!"

"senor..."

"i won't allow that"

"what are you gonna do??"

"you'll see" and with that he left the room.

you gasp for air as you see the scene in front of you.

this most be a nightmare,it has to be.

Senor's back facing you and under him...the queen and your sister dead body

drip drip

the blood dripping from his sword,this isn't the senor you know.

he turn to you

"run away,run away,run away, RUN AWAY. "

your mind keeps telling you to run away but you can't move anymore.

as senor get close enough he kneeled to your level

"shh,don't cry m'lady...that was necessary they wanted to do us apart!"

he reached his hand to wipe your tears away

"From the day I met your father, our fate was sealed to be together, they have no right to ruin that,right? i did that for our love."

your tears replaced with blood from his hand.

that was his promise to keep you with him forever.

a blood-stained promise

there's alot of red text here...and other red thing☺️(YES i SAID IT)

have a good day/night♡

masterlist

[scarredwithcruelintentions]

chapter 4: a reflection in another's eyes

Find the masterlist here!

CW: Unintentional and nonconsensual voyeurism

W/C: 2,579

A/N: Have another simply because I've been writing so prolifically!

Astarion spent the better part of the day curled up in his tent with all of his belongings. He figured that if anyone else were to come looking for him, it’d be best if he didn’t have any obvious indications of his whereabouts on display. For as much as he wanted to bask in the sunshine like a lazy cat, it seemed safer to stay huddled in the cramped shadows of his tent, surrounded by all of the pilfered trinkets he associated with his freedom. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything to call his own, and each item, no matter its usefulness or lack thereof, had earned a sentimental place in his undead heart.

As the light shifted toward dusk, his mind grew restless and he felt suffocated by the heat and darkness of the small space. He crawled to the mouth of the tent and hesitantly lifted one of the flaps to peer out. His eyes quickly found Karlach and Shadowheart preparing the fire, but saw no sign of the morning’s adventuring party. He exhaled slowly through his nose and stood, gathering his things and tenderly placing them outside once more. 

He caught the curious eyes of Shadowheart watching him enter and exit repeatedly and scowled menacingly at her, fighting the urge to giggle as he watched her face scrunch up in distaste. Karlach only smiled at him, nothing but kindness in her eyes, so he obliged her with his own in return.

The last rays of twilight streaked the sky by the time he finished re-orienting his belongings, and there was still no sign of the rest of the group. He became fidgety with distress at the thought of you injured or dead somewhere far from his reach, and chose not to analyze the feeling further. Surely, you were fine. Surely the other three had kept you safe, so that you might come back and provide him with security in turn. 

He stared absently at the book in his lap, poring over the same paragraph far too many times as his agonized thoughts ran away with him. With a frustrated growl, he snapped the book shut and tossed it none too gently into his tent, snagging his toiletries off the little table next to him and stalking away from camp to the riverbank nearby. He hoped bathing would prove a more helpful distraction.

He shucked his clothes and swiftly waded waist-deep into the water, unaffected by the frigid temperature. He allowed his body to sink beneath the rippled surface, soaking himself from head to toe for a good wash. He worked his rosemary soap into a rich lather and scrubbed the layers of road dust from his silver hair and ivory skin until he glowed in the pale light of the moon. Deeming himself thoroughly cleansed, he dipped below the water one more time to rinse all of the suds away before making a hasty retreat to its edge. He donned his smalls in a rush, pulling his breeches on shortly after and lacing them shut.

Stepping into his camp shoes, he rubbed a spicy and citrusy oil through his curls and across the planes of his chest absentmindedly, his thoughts wandering once more. As he sucked in a breath for a heavy sigh, he caught your scent on the breeze and heard the tinkling sound of your laughter. He scrambled for his things and made a mad dash back to camp, pulling his worn, ruffled chemise over his head as he went.

Once he caught sight of you, the chilly tendrils of fear that had been slowly constricting his chest all day receded in an instant, replaced rapidly by the fuzzy warmth he’d come to associate with you - until he noticed the person opposite you. 

Gale.

He watched in abject fury as the wizard laughed at your clumsy hand gestures and repeated his motions for you, his praise at your correction driving a breathy giggle from you. Something hot and green took over him as the Weave sparkled around the two of you, the look of wondrous fascination in your eyes too much for him to bear. This was another unfamiliar feeling, one that left a vile churning in his gut and a rancid taste in his mouth. A feeling he decidedly did not like one bit, and he skulked away to his tent to avoid feeding it further.

Little good it did, for the seed of doubt had been sown.

Well enough is certainly not good enough.

He placed his toiletries back on the table outside his tent and took up the ornate silver hand mirror in their stead, ducking into the bleak darkness of his sleeping quarters. ______________________________________________________________

He heard the padding of your bare feet and the telltale swish of his tent opening before he saw you, delicate face reflected in the many fractured facets of the hand mirror.

“Looking at something?” he drawled in greeting, smirking at the surprise marring your fine features.

“How did you…?”

“The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition,” he answered without turning to look at you, afraid of what his expression might betray. “It doesn’t quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you.”

“I came looking for you when we got back, but I couldn’t find you anywhere,” you began, letting the flap of his tent fall shut.

“I had gone for a bath,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Why didn’t you come get me when you were done?” 

He scrutinized your face in the cracked mirror, eyes round with sadness and lips drawn in a slight frown. You wrung your hands in the muslin material of your sleep dress.

“I had every intention of inviting you for dinner when I returned, but you seemed… otherwise engaged,” he sneered, grateful you could not see his face in the reflection of the mirror.

“Ah, that. Gale was showing me how to harness the Weave without my lyre. He said I had a natural talent for the arcane arts,” you responded with a flush, arms drawn tight around your middle in defensive bashfulness.

“I think I rather prefer the magic of your music, darling,” he snarked before he could stop himself. The silence that followed was awkward at best. 

Clearing your throat, you nodded at the mirror in his hand.

“Do you miss it?”

“Do I miss what?” he snapped, mood foul and patience running thin.

“Seeing your own face,” you answered in a small voice.

He swiveled to face you, jeering, “Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity? Of course I miss it.”

You remained standing just in the threshold of his tent, looking down at his no doubt disdainful expression.

“I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.” He could feel his lip curl in contempt.

“What color were they before?” you asked quietly.

He was taken aback, unable to recall the answer.

“I…I don’t know. I can’t remember,” he replied, voice now solemn, “My face is just some dark shape in my past.”

He was quickly overcome with white hot rage at the reminder of everything Cazador had taken from him, the memory of himself included.

“Another thing I’ve lost,” he snarled, hurling the hand mirror across the tent with unnecessary ferocity. The already-fractured surface shattered on impact, spraying shards of glass haphazardly in all directions.

You jumped back with a gasp, hand flying to grasp at your chest. He could hear the rapid, unsteady rhythm of your heart and felt a pang of remorse for startling you. He hung his head and buried his face in his hands with a groan, trembling with the rage and loathing that coursed through him.

He couldn’t hear your tentative footsteps or the soft sounds of your breath over the ringing in his ears, but he could smell you coming closer. He felt the gentle swoosh of your skirt and the impression in his bedroll as you knelt in front of him, and had to suppress a shudder when the warmth of your small hands encircled his wrists, drawing his own away from his face. Even still, he did not raise it to look at you.

You gave a little tut of disapproval, and he soon felt your calloused fingertips skate along his jawline, soft palms guiding him to meet your eyes. He watched intently as your eyes flitted over his features, drinking in the sight of him.

“What?” he rumbled.

He felt the pads of your thumbs trace gently over his cheekbones, and he closed his eyes at the feathery sensation. The warmth he associated with your presence morphed into a blazing inferno in the hollow of his chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“I see you,” you breathed.

He opened his eyes to find yours heavy lidded, soft features rosy in the warm glow of the oil lamp. He could count the freckles across the bridge of your nose with your proximity, your intoxicating scent drawing him ever closer.

“And what do you see, exactly?”

“Strong, piercing eyes,” you whispered, your own flitting from one to the other of his.

“Go on…” he exhaled.

“That dangerous smile,” you replied, lips quirking up as if in example.

All I’d have to do is lean in.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a tempest of disgust and bitter hatred whirled through him, sullying the fragile moment. It was too much. Too gentle. 

More kindness than he deserved.

He reached up and grasped your wrists, not missing your shiver at his touch, though whether it was borne of the chill of his skin or the heat of your desire, he couldn’t say. All it did was fuel the maelstrom of his self-loathing. He deftly, albeit cautiously, removed your hands from his face and leaned away.

“Very good,” he purred, slipping back into the comfortable familiarity of his persona and taking control of the conversation again, “Now just tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day.”

The dramatic change in your expression would have been funny if it didn’t also hurt, snuffing out the fire and the warmth in one fell swoop and leaving an ache of regret in its place.

“Is that all you want? Shallow praise?” you gritted out, mouth set in a hard line.

“Hardly! There’s also gold, sex, revenge - quite the list really,” he laughed, though it sounded false even to his ears. “But failing any of those, I will always settle for shallow praise.”

“I can’t believe you,” you snapped, yanking your wrists from his grip. “Would it kill you to be vulnerable?”

You sat back, swinging your legs around and pushing yourself up to stand.

“It very well could, darling,” he sniffed, turning his head in profile to regard you haughtily. 

“Go find your own dinner, Astarion,” you muttered, expression thunderous and limbs rigid with hurt and fury.

He watched as you stormed away, mind working overtime to catch up with how quickly the situation had turned south, and found himself staring at the swinging flaps of his tent for longer than he cared to admit.

For the first time in two centuries, it was not fear that kept him awake. ______________________________________________________________

Astarion surfaced from his fitful trance with a groan, blinking in the diffused glow of the oil lamp. He rolled over and pushed his tent open, surprised to find the blanket of night still stretched across the sky. He couldn’t remember how long it took to slip into his meditation, nor when it had happened, but it had been restless and plagued with the spindly remnants of memories best left forgotten.

He stretched and took a deep breath, an unnecessary but still calming practice, and weighed the benefit of slipping back into his trance against going out to hunt. He stared at the fabric ceiling swaying in the breeze for a few moments before deciding to get up. It had been a day or more since he’d last fed, and he supposed a full belly might help ease the pain of emptiness in his chest.

He slipped from his tent in silence, prowling in the direction of the forest, when he heard humming coming from the direction of the riverbank. He diverged from his original path and crept toward the sound, the haunting melody piquing his curiosity.

He smelled you before he saw you, and halted his approach in the shadow of a great oak tree close by. His skin prickled with the wariness of unanticipated voyeurism, but he could not draw himself away from the sight of you.

There you were, waist deep in the river, moonlight glistening off your bare, sudsy skin. Water ran in enticing rivulets from the ends of your hair, cutting trails through the lather in the valley of your breasts and over their soft mounds, droplets falling from the full curvature of their undersides into the rippling current swirling around you. You continued to hum your melancholy tune as you worked the fragrant floral soap through your hair.

Astarion was grateful for his lack of a pulse and need to breathe; had he been a mortal man, his regular bodily functions would have been sure to give him up. 

He watched with rapt fascination as you propped your foot up on an invisible platform, no doubt a stone beneath the water’s surface, and ran the soap up your leg in a tantalizing display, the other following suit some time after. You took your time cleansing yourself despite the obvious chill of the water, skin dimpled with gooseflesh. His darkvision allowed him to pick out the finer details of your form, finding the silvery flash of old scars in the most unlikely of places.

The pleasant warmth your beauty incited warred with the cold discomfort of his abhorrent behavior. You were sure to skin him alive if you ever found him out, but you remained blissfully unaware of his presence for the moment, content to take pleasure in the act of washing yourself. He heard you suck in a great lungful of air and the telltale plunk of you sinking beneath the water’s surface to rinse yourself. He should have used the opportunity to slink away, but he was curiously rooted to the spot.

You resurfaced with heavy, panting breaths, hands slicking your hair back from your face and wringing the excess water from it. You undulated with the current as you waded back to the bank.

The pale light of the moon glinting off your wet skin as you hummed your poignant melody gave you a siren-like quality that stoked the embers of that tingly warmth into a burning need that sat low in his belly. He was familiar with lust, knew the look of it in others and the inevitable feeling of it in himself when forced to perform. Never, before now, had it been a welcome sensation.

I wonder how she’d look, bare in the glow of candlelight.

Just as quickly as the feeling came, it left in a rush of confused disturbance. He was knowingly violating your privacy, and taking enjoyment in it. He felt the overwhelming burden of shame consume him. With one last glance at your lithe form perched on a rock as your skin dried in the warm breeze, he fled into the hush of the darkened forest and far from the conflicted thoughts of an excitement long assumed dead.