#and I need yall to understand it’s not like I laid in bed and didn’t fall asleep

[roylustang]

I feel less insane than I did a few hours ago but holy fucking shit did things happen

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | chapter 4

previous | chapter 4 | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (no use of y/n)

꩜ CW: swearing, mentions of smoking, tension, yearning (lmk if i missed any)

꩜ WC: 9.7K (UMMMMM)

꩜ A/N: this is a LONG ASS chapter, and holy fuck it is some chapter, i’m edging yall atp. (if u caught the jackieshauna reference i love u)

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

Since the shopping trip with Ellie and all the unspoken tension that came with it Friday flew by. The diner was as packed as ever, but with Maria’s guidance, you held things down. Before you even realized it, you’d survived your first week as assistant manager. You gave yourself a well deserved mental pat on the back.

Back at your apartment, Sally was nowhere to be seen. You figured she was probably out with her boyfriend, which meant you had the place to yourself. Heaven. You took your time unwinding, long shower, soft pajamas, candles lit, and the warm flicker of the TV glow filling the room.

You curled up on the couch with dinner and a dumb sitcom playing in the background, halfway through your meal when it hit you: you hadn’t texted Ellie all day. That was... rare. But understandable, with the week you’d both had and her prepping for the gala, you juggling work.

You reached for your phone and opened her contact.

“Hey there, how’s everything going?”

Her reply came seconds later:

“helloo, sorry I've been arranging all my shit for tomorrow, hbu?”

“Just chilling, long day. Glad it’s finally the weekend.”

There was a short pause before the next message came.

“Can I be honest for a sec? I’m kinda terrified about tomorrow.”

That one made your chest ache a little. Ellie always had a hard time accepting good things, like she didn’t deserve them, or worse, like she might mess them up before they could even begin.

You didn’t waste time replying. “I get it, Els. But you’ll do amazing as always, and you’ll look hot while doing it, so there’s really no need to worry.”

Ellie stared at the message a little too long. Her stomach twisted, but this time, not from nerves.

It was almost midnight. You yawned, stretching out.

“You should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow. We don’t want you walking around like a zombie out there.”

She smiled, already feeling lighter.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sleep deprivation is getting to me. I’ll pick u up tomorrow at 6pm sharp.”

“Yes ma’am. Goodnight, Ellie ;)”

“Night :)”

She tossed her phone onto the bed and groaned, flopping backwards like gravity was suddenly ten times heavy. “What am I doing?” she muttered to no one. Eventually, after flipping around and staring at the ceiling like it held answers she finally drifted off, all her worries vanishing away. Tomorrow would be a whirlwind.

Late morning sunlight cut through her curtains, hitting her square in the face. Ellie groaned, eyes scrunching shut before she blinked awake, freckles bathed in warm light. She sat on the edge of the bed, hair sticking up in every direction, she rubbed the sleep off her eyes, staring at the neatly folded clothes on the armchair laid out with unusual care the night before.

White button up. Black slacks. Blazer. Loafers, cleaned and polished. She made her way to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, blinking at herself in the mirror. Wide eyed. Awake now. After that she headed to her small kitchen, grabbing some milk and cereal for breakfast. Could never go wrong with it.

Her camera bag was sprawled on the small dining table, along with all the equipment she had already double checked, but would probably check it again later. She’d charged all her batteries, packed backup lenses, made sure she had her extra SD cards. She could do this in her sleep. Still, her leg bounced as she sat, stomach tightening.

This wasn’t just another gig. It was the gig. The one that could open doors, land her work in bigger publications, finally get her name out there in the way she always said she didn’t care about. But now that it was here, she did care. A lot.

And then there was you.

Her chest tightened at the thought of seeing you in that dress. Standing beside her. Laughing. Maybe letting your arm brush hers like you always did, like you didn’t even notice it anymore, though she always did. You were going to be there. Looking…well. However you were going to look, it would be stunning. You always looked good no matter what.

But tonight? In a dress? At her side? Ellie felt like she needed to lay down. Again.

She needed to stop these thoughts, you probably weren’t even thinking about her like that. Shit maybe, you didn’t even notice it. But the truth is, you noticed. Every little detail. The way her eyes glistened when she saw you, or her nose scrunched just a bit when she laughed. It made her feel like an idiot, but she couldn’t bring herself to face… whatever this was.

She ran her hand through her hair and stood up, forcing herself to move. Shower. That would help. Hot water and routine. Maybe call Joel too.. She peeled off her hoodie, grabbed a towel, and headed into the bathroom. But the second the water turned on, her thoughts spiraled again.

What if you looked too good? What if people thought you were her date? Worse—what if they didn’t?

What if you felt out of place? What if you regretted coming?

“Get it together, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered, scrubbing her hair like it personally offended her. “It’s just a job.”

But even as she said it, she could already picture the way your eyes would light up when you saw the venue. Or how you’d lean in to whisper something, your shoulders brushing hers.

Her stomach flipped.

She got out of the shower and dried off quickly, throwing on a clean shirt and boxers before stepping back into her room. Her phone buzzed with a text. It was you.

“Morning sunshine. Ready for the big day?

Ellie smiled, thumbs hovering.

"I’ve been triple checking all my equipment since last night, I think I'm getting there."

You smirked at the message, still laying in bed, too warm to get up.

“Well, if it makes you feel better I already looked up pictures of the venue and the fundraising and everything”

“lol, you’re a weirdo”

“u love it”

You tossed your phone to the side, finally getting out of bed, saturdays were always for slow mornings, you didn’t care about waking up early. The apartment was quiet as usual, just the sounds of the outside world, and the soft hum of the tv in the living room.

Sally sat curled on the couch, coffee in hand. “Morning. There’s still some in the pot.”

“You are an angel.” you replied, heading to the kitchen counter and pulling your favorite mug out of the small cabinet, the mug felt warm in your hands, steam blowing out of the dark liquid. You joined Sally at the other end of the couch. Both of you falling into the usual chatter, tv playing in the background with some news channel. You really enjoyed Sally’s presence, even if both of you were extremely different, you got along well.

You made some actual breakfast (which was more of a brunch considering the time) and ate it on the table, gossiping every now and then or just doom-scrolling on your phones. You checked the time and it was almost 3p.m., time to start getting ready. Standing up you excused yourself off the table and dropped both plates on the sink, heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth and do your skincare routine.

Sally hung in your room for a bit, helping you get your hair done, tossing it into rollers that made you look ridiculous but she swore the blowout would be worth it. You trusted her.

Barely.

Still, your brain kept drifting. Would Ellie think you looked good? Was it too much? Too little?

Your overthinking wasn’t helping at all. You reached for your makeup bag and started applying your foundation with a soft brush, blending it carefully all over your face, while a playlist hummed from Sally’s phone, you continued applying more products while she did your hair, it was almost therapeutic.

Meanwhile, Ellie stared at her open closet like it was some kind of puzzle she couldn’t solve.

The button up was already laid out. crisp white, freshly ironed. Beside it, black slacks and the blazer she wasn’t sure looked cool or like she was going to a job interview. She adjusted the sleeves again for the fifth time, then stepped back like that would somehow make the outfit look better.

This was stupid. It was fine. It was neutral and professional and not trying too hard. Except… her brain wouldn’t stop poking at the same thought over and over again: What if you looked at her and didn’t feel anything at all?

She huffed and ran a hand through her hair, combing it with her fingers.

There was nothing else to tweak about her camera bag. She’d gone over every lens, every battery, every backup memory card like a maniac. Her whole gear kit was triple checked, zipped up, and ready to go by noon. Which meant the rest of the day was just… waiting. And spiraling.

She sat on the edge of her bed, fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve, before grabbing her phone. She dialed Joel’s number.

“Hey kiddo, everything alright?” His voice was warm, grounding.

“Hey Joel... yeah. I guess. Just a little nervous about this gig I’ve got later. It’s kinda a big one.” She tugged at her shirt hem as she talked.

“You mean that fancy fundraiser thing? Where you gotta play nice with the rich folks?” He chuckled.

“Yup. That’s the one.”

“Thought you said you weren’t worried about that?”

“I wasn’t. Now I am.”

Joel was quiet for a beat. “This about the gig... or the girl?”

Ellie groaned. “Don’t start.”

“Can’t help it. You’ve only mentioned her about two dozen times.”

“She’s coming as my plus one,” Ellie muttered. “Not—like—not a date. Just… kind of.”

Another chuckle. “Ellie, I’ve seen you more relaxed on a rooftop during a thunderstorm. You sure you’re just nervous about the photos?”

She went quiet.

“Look,” Joel said, his voice softer. “You’ve done way harder things than dress up and take pictures. You’ve worked your ass off. You deserve this. And from what I’ve seen, that girl’s lucky to be standin’ next to you tonight.”

Ellie rubbed her forehead. “I just… don’t wanna mess it up.”

“You won’t. You’re gonna knock it outta the park. Just be yourself. Take the shots. Let yourself enjoy it. And maybe, if the moment’s right, don’t be afraid to tell her how you feel.”

But that’s the thing. Ellie didn’t know how she felt. And it was killing her inside.

Ellie gave a breathy laugh. “Now you’re pushing it.”

“Maybe. But sometimes you need a little push. I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

She smiled, a quiet warmth settling in her chest. “Thanks, man.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

She hung up, feeling just a little calmer.

She laid back down, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, it was still early to pick you up, so she decided to have a smoke, maybe that would relax her a bit. She leaned against the window, cigarette burned between her fingers, smoke curling lazily toward the sky.

She took a drag, exhaled slowly, watching the smoke dance in front of her.

You were probably finishing your makeup, or fixing your hair. Maybe pacing. Maybe not even nervous at all. That made her stomach twist worse.

“This is so stupid,” she muttered to herself, flicking ash onto the pavement. “It’s not even a date. Just work, a big one.”

Except it wasn’t just work. And it did feel like a date. Because you’d said yes. Because you were getting dressed up for her. And that meant something.

She finished the cigarette, stomping the butt on the ashtray by her bedside. Then she glanced at the time.

5:30 PM.

“Shit.” she grabbed her camera bag, along with the case that contained her tripod and stepped out the door.

You smoothed your palms over your dress for the fifth time.

Sally was standing behind you in the mirror, carefully removing the last roller from your hair like she was defusing a bomb. “Okay,” she said, voice hushed with reverence. “Turn around.”

You did. Slowly.

And when she beamed, hands clutched dramatically to her chest you knew she wasn’t faking it.

“Oh my god. Babe. You look hot. Like... ruin-a-man’s-life hot.”

You laughed, nervously adjusting the straps. “It’s not too much?”

“It’s perfect,” she said, tugging your hands away from your waist. “Stop fidgeting. Ellie’s jaw is gonna hit the floor.”

You tried to play it off with a shrug, but your heart was pounding. You’d never gone all out like this. Not for a date, not for anyone. But tonight? You didn’t want to just look nice. You wanted to look like someone Ellie couldn't look away from.

Back in your room, you added the final touches. Lipstick. Perfume. Earrings that caught the light. You stood in front of the mirror, hands on your hips, trying to steady your breathing.

“You’ve got this,” you whispered to your reflection. “It’s not a date. It’s just... a gala. With Ellie. Who is your best friend. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. You were spiraling.

What if you were overdressed, or worse, underdressed? What if she looked at you and saw right through you? Saw all the messy, fluttery feelings you kept trying to shove into the background?

The knock on the door snapped you out of it.

Sally opened the door, greeting Ellie politely, like she had done before.

“She’s just adding the final touches—” Sally said as she let Ellie in the apartment “she’ll be out in a second, have fun at the gala” and with that she disappeared into her room. Ellie sat on the couch, hands clammy, hair tied in a half up, half down bun. Suddenly she heard your voice down the hall.

“Sorry, I was battling with these earrings but I’m all done—” Your gaze hadn’t met hers yet, but when it did, the world narrowed to one thing: her.

Ellie stood there, hands stuffed into her pockets, blazer sharp, button-up crisp. But that wasn’t what stopped you cold.

It was the look on her face.

Like she’d just forgotten how to speak.

Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “…Wow.”

You laughed under your breath. “Good wow or bad wow?”

She blinked hard, eyes dragging down the length of you and back up like she was trying to memorize every detail. “Good wow,” she said, finally. “Like… insanely good. Holy shit.”

You bit your lip to hide your smile.

She scratched the back of her neck, looking helpless. “You, uh… you clean up nice.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased. “Very professional.”

“Good,” she muttered. “Cause I’m gonna be winging the hell out of this.”

You both laughed, the tension breaking slightly, but the air between you still buzzed with something you refused to address.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then Ellie glanced sideways at you, her voice softer. “Seriously… you look incredible.��

And despite your best efforts, you blushed. “Thanks, El.” you said, eyes falling into the poorly tied tie around her neck. It made you giggle.

“Ellie,” you breathed out a laugh, stepping closer. “What the hell is this?”

“I know, I know,” she groaned, hands raised in surrender. “I watched three YouTube videos and still managed to screw it up. It’s cursed.”

“Come here,” you said, tugging gently at the fabric.

She swallowed hard as you stood close. Close enough to smell your perfume, to see the tiny shimmer of highlighter on your cheekbones.

Your fingers worked quickly, but your eyes kept flicking up to hers. “You really didn’t have anyone growing up to teach you how to do this?”

“Joel wears bolo ties,” she muttered. “The man’s useless in the formalwear department.”

You giggled and kept tying.

Ellie couldn’t focus on anything. Not your hands, not your lips, not how soft your voice got when you whispered, “There we go. All fixed.”

She looked down at you. You looked up at her.

And for a second, everything stilled. The hallway faded. The air crackled with electricity.

Neither of you moved.

Then you gave her tie one last tug, playful but firm. “Okay, now you look like you know what you’re doing.”

She cleared her throat, stepping back. “Cool. Cool, yeah. You, uh. Ready to go?”

You nodded, clutching your purse, heart pounding in your chest.

Sally popped her head out from her bedroom. “Don’t you two look fancy. Have fun and don’t let the rich people steal your souls.”

“Noted,” Ellie said with a salute. You waved goodbye and stepped out into the doorway beside her.

Your fingers brushed as you walked side by side. Neither of you pulled away.

The drive started quiet. Ellie’s truck hummed steadily down the road, golden hour casting everything in that honey glow. You sat with your hands folded in your lap, legs crossed at the ankles, feeling the nervous heat spread through your skin like your body couldn’t decide if it was freezing or burning up. Maybe both.

You fidgeted nervously with the zipper of your purse, pulling it up and down, up and down, the faint zip sound filling the silence in between the songs. Meanwhile, Ellie’s fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel, pinky twitching, ring finger drumming.

You caught her stealing a glance.

Quick. Like she hadn’t meant to.

But she did. And you did too.

You turned your head slightly, eyes meeting hers for half a second before she snapped them back to the road. The corner of her mouth twitched like she was fighting a smile.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

Then Ellie cleared her throat. “So uh… the venue’s downtown, just off Main. It’s at this weird, bougie museum-turned-ballroom thing. Pretentious, honestly.”

You laughed gently. “Sounds perfect for you.”

“Oh, 100%,” she nodded, finally letting out a real smile. “Nothing says Ellie Williams like white wine and too many people pretending they’ve read The New Yorker.”

You grinned, relaxing into your seat a little more.

The car turned onto a wider avenue. The sun had started to dip behind the skyline now, streaking the sky in lavender and rose. You could still feel her sneaking glance, watching you when she thought you weren’t paying attention. Your hands. Your legs. The way your lips moved when you smiled at something on the radio.

Her knee bounced.

Your heart did too.

You turned slightly, voice softer now. “You okay?”

Ellie nodded quickly, eyes on the road. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just…” She exhaled through her nose, then gave you a sideways glance. “A little nervous.”

You smiled shyly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “You’re going to do amazing Ellie, there’s no need to worry.”

The tension softened but it didn’t go away. It just shifted. Only if you knew that the thing making her nervous was you in that dress…

The closer you got to the venue, the more your stomach fluttered. Ellie turned onto a side street, passing a long line of fancy cars parked in front of the tall glass and marble building up ahead.

People in gowns and suits walked across the entrance plaza under strings of lights, the early evening glow making everything look like a scene out of a movie.

Ellie pulled into a parking spot a few blocks away, engine cutting out. Neither of you moved for a second.

She looked over at you again, this time slower. A little longer. “Ready?”

You nodded, voice quiet. “Yeah.”

You both stepped out of the truck, feet clicking softly on the pavement.

Ellie walked a half-step ahead of you as you made your way toward the venue, but she kept glancing over her shoulder to make sure you were close behind. Your dress swayed with every step, catching the soft breeze, and Ellie despite the nervous buzzing in her chest managed to hold the door open for you like it was second nature.

The moment you stepped inside, your breath hitched.

“Holy fuck,” you murmured.

The lobby alone looked like something out of a dream, gleaming marble floors, tall arching ceilings wrapped in soft, golden light, modern art installations scattered between sculpted pillars. A string quartet played somewhere deeper inside, the music echoing through the open space like silk in the air.

Ellie let out a low whistle next to you. “Jesus. This place is… yeah.”

You both stood there for a second, completely still, like tourists in a museum too fancy to touch anything. And for a moment, it didn’t matter that Ellie was here to work, or that this was technically a fundraiser gala. It just felt like the two of you had stumbled into someone else’s glamorous night.

She turned to you, lips parted to say something, but stopped herself. Her eyes flicked down your figure and back up again, slow, deliberate, a little dazed.

You blinked at her. “What?”

She shook her head, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Nothing. Just—hope you’re ready to be the hottest person in the room.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed. “Please. I’ve never seen anyone look better in a suit.”

Ellie laughed, tugging at said blazer like she’d just remembered she was wearing it. “Alright, alright. Let’s find the event coordinator so I can check in. Then we’ll scope out the best free food.”

You gave her a mock salute. “On it, boss.”

Ellie led the way deeper into the venue, camera bag slung confidently across her shoulder now, while her other hand gripped the tripod case firmly, shoulders squared like she was finally slipping into her zone. But every few steps, her hand would twitch like she wanted to reach for you. Every time someone walked by and glanced at you both, she’d glance back just a second too long. Protective.

You couldn’t stop glancing either.

She looked like someone out of a magazine, tie straight now, eyes focused, jaw clenched just enough to make your heart jump. The same Ellie you knew, but sharper, more composed, like she didn’t realize the effect she had on you.

The ballroom was even more breathtaking up close. Tall arched windows framed the setting sun, casting soft golden light across linen-covered tables topped with elaborate floral arrangements and flickering candles. Staff moved like clockwork, setting wine glasses, placing silverware, adjusting napkins folded like origami swans. It reminded you somehow of the diner, but way less fancy.

Ellie scanned the room quickly, eyes sharp behind her lashes. “There she is.”

You followed her gaze to a woman in a sleek pantsuit, clipboard in hand, giving instructions to a cluster of servers. Ellie straightened her posture and motioned for you to follow before approaching with practiced ease.

“Hi, Eva is that right?” Ellie said, offering a small but confident smile. “Ellie Williams, photographer.”

Eva turned to her with a brisk nod and a once-over glance at her equipment bag. “Perfect. Glad you’re here on time. We’re expecting guests to start arriving within the hour. You’re cleared to shoot during the cocktail hour, dinner, and key speeches. Avoid flash during performances or when people are eating.”

“Got it,” Ellie said, already mentally running through the list. “Any VIPs I should keep an eye out for?”

“The keynote speaker—Dr. Rosalind Carter. She’ll arrive closer to seven. And the foundation’s director, Mr. Bennett, and of course Dr. Anderson, he will want a group photo with the board around dessert. I’ll flag you when it’s time.”

“Cool. Mind if I set up now?”

Eva nodded and gestured toward the far end of the room, near the stage. “There’s a designated corner for your gear and charging station. If you need anything, I’ll be by the entrance.”

With that, she disappeared into the controlled chaos.

Ellie exhaled through her nose. “Alright. Showtime.”

You trailed behind as she headed to the gear table, helping her unpack her bag and started working in focused silence. Out came two camera bodies. one with a wider lens, one with a longer zoom followed by her trusty light meter, extra batteries, a pouch of memory cards, and a tripod she tucked discreetly behind a curtain near the back.

You watched her slip seamlessly into her element, eyes sharp, fingers steady. She checked her white balance, adjusted her strap, wiped a smudge from her lens, and held one camera up to her eye, framing a test shot of you.

“Hey!” you muttered under your breath.

She glanced over, smirking slightly. “What?”

“Focus on the real celebrities here”

Ellie blinked at you, she knew what she was doing. A little pink crept up her neck, but she tried to play it cool, swapping cameras like it was no big deal. “Yeah, well. I needed to test the lens.”

You laughed and leaned against the nearest table, still watching her move. Focused, grounded, magnetic.

The ballroom started to fill slowly as the first guests arrived, well dressed couples stepping through the main doors, the soft hum of classical music weaving through their chatter. Ellie slipped her camera over her shoulder and gave you a quick look.

“I’ll be around. Try not to fall in love with any rich assholes while I’m gone, alright?”

“How could I?” You rolled your eyes, but she was smiling as she turned and walked into the crowd, lens raised, already disappearing behind a group of socialites in tailored suits.

You wandered toward the refreshment table, a glass of something bubbly in hand, not quite champagne, not quite soda. trying not to look out of place as the room filled with soft laughter and swishing fabric. The guests were glamorous in that effortless kind of way. It was clear who belonged here… and who felt like they were just tagging along.

Still, you held your head high and smiled politely at anyone who made eye contact. Fake it till you make it, right?

“First gala? Never seen you before” a voice said beside you. Smooth, and a little amused.

You turned, nearly spilling your drink when you caught sight of the broad-shouldered woman in a tailored black tux with her blonde hair pulled back in a braid. She looked like she’d stepped straight out of a magazine ad for expensive cologne and probably lifted weights for fun.

“Uh—yeah, kind of obvious, huh?”

She smiled, teeth sharp. “Nah, you’re pulling it off. Most people don’t know how to stand near the wine table without looking like they want to run away.”

You laughed, grateful for the ease in her tone. “I’m doing my best. You a regular at these things?”

“More than I’d like,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “My dad hosts these every year. Fundraising, networking, all that jazz.”

Wait.

“Wait—your dad is…?”

“Dr. Anderson,” she said with a small, self-aware bow. “Abby.”

You blinked. “Oh. Wow. Nice to meet you, Abby.”

She smirked. “You too. And you are…?”

Before you could answer, a voice cut in tight and familiar.

“Dude this place is huge—”

You turned slightly to find Ellie standing a few feet away, camera strap across her chest, expression carefully neutral but her eyes—her eyes were screaming "What the fuck?"

Abby raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying herself. “You’re with the photographer?”

“Yeah I invited her” Ellie said quickly, too quickly. “I’m her… friend.”

She was absolutely spiraling.

Abby chuckled. “Right. Got it. Guess I’ll behave, then.”

She turned to Ellie, a little too pleased. “Anyway, I think you’re supposed to get a shot of me and my dad before he heads to the stage.”

Ellie cleared her throat, clearly trying to refocus. “Yeah. Right.”

You watched as Abby waved over Dr. Anderson, who approached with the kind of air only people who owned entire institutions carried. He smiled warmly at Ellie.

“Ms. Williams, pleasure to have you here tonight. Eva tells me you come highly recommended.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ellie said, lifting her camera. “Just over here by the floral arrangement, if that’s okay?”

Dr. Anderson nodded, and Ellie snapped a few quick photos. Abby standing beside her father, one hand in her pocket, posture relaxed. When they were done, he gave Ellie a respectful nod and turned toward the stage.

The lights dimmed slightly as the event coordinator stepped up to the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, please find your seats. We’re about to begin.”

You and Ellie locked eyes briefly as everyone started moving toward the rows of tables. She walked backward, camera raised, already snapping shots of the crowd settling in, the soft lighting glowing over their shoulders.

Dr. Anderson took the stage, greeted by polite applause. Ellie raised her camera again, eyes in the viewfinder, already focused.

“Thank you all for joining us tonight,” he began. “This fundraiser is not only about financial support—but about vision. About believing in the stories we still have to tell…”

You found your seat near the edge of the room, heart still racing a little. Half from Abby’s easy charm, half from the look on Ellie’s face when she saw it.

Ellie stayed standing, moving like a shadow along the edge of the room, capturing the moment in quiet bursts of the shutter. But every now and then, her eyes flicked back to you.

And your eyes flicked right back. Magnetic.

Dr. Anderson’s voice flowed through the speakers, confident, practiced, charismatic. He spoke about stories that shaped communities, about the importance of funding creative programs, about the photographers, writers, and artists who hadn’t yet been discovered.

You sat quietly, watching him, trying to absorb the atmosphere. The clinking of glassware, the hushed murmurs of the crowd, the way the light reflected off the hanging chandeliers like golden dust in the air.

Ellie had moved closer to the stage now, snapping photos from different angles. Dr. Anderson behind the podium, the crowd’s reactions, the attentive expressions, the elegant chaos of the evening frozen in delicate frames. She moved like she belonged there. Like she was in control of the moment.

But even through the lens, her focus kept drifting.

She found you in the crowd, the soft slope of your shoulders relaxed, your eyes fixed on the stage with that thoughtful look she’d seen a hundred times before at the diner, across a booth, behind a coffee mug.

She adjusted the lens.

Click.

You turned slightly, just enough for the soft lighting to kiss the side of your face.

Click.

You didn’t even notice her. You were too focused. Too beautiful.

Her heart beat faster.

She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t. But—

Click.

One more. Just for her eyes to see.

After the speech, soft music filled the room again and waiters began to circulate with trays of fancy entrees and drinks. Dr. Anderson stepped down from the stage to applause, mingling quickly with key donors and guests. The fundraiser had officially shifted into cocktail hour.

You stood from your seat, smoothing your dress and heading toward the refreshment table again—half for something to sip on, half to keep your hands busy. You felt lost without Ellie, but she suddenly reappeared beside you, camera now resting against her chest.

“Hey.”

You turned toward her, smiling. “Hey. You killed it up there.”

“I just pointed and clicked,” she said, brushing a hand through her hair.

You gave her a look. “You also climbed on a chair at one point.”

Ellie shrugged, smirking. “Gotta get the shot.”

A pause settled between you both. Soft, warm. Your shoulders nearly touched. The hum of music and voices blurred into the background.

“You looked like you belonged up there,” you said quietly.

Ellie’s eyes searched yours for a beat. “You’re bluffing.”

You blinked. “You know I would never”

She shifted her weight awkwardly. “Are you enjoying it? Or you’re too bored without me?”

It came out in that teasing tone of hers.

“Well I was having fun with Mrs. muscles until someone cockblocked me” you gave her a slight shrug.

“Oh yeah right, this is your way of getting at me for Cat”

You smiled “Why you jealous?”

“Why would I? I’m prettier” she scoffed, but the red on her cheeks was giving her up.

A waiter passed and you grabbed a small plate of hors d'oeuvres, offering it to her. Ellie shook her head, probably too nervous to eat but she lingered close.

Your eyes flicked toward her camera. “Did you get good shots?”

“Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat. “Some good crowd reactions. Got Abby and her dad. Anderson’s speech.”

You tilted your head. “Can I see?”

Ellie stared at her drink. Remembering the candids she had taken of you. Fuck. “It’s boring really”

You gave her a look. “Ellie come on.”

“Fine…” You practically snatched the camera off her hands, flicking through the pictures until you came across some photos that definitely weren’t Dr. Anderson. Your stomach fluttered at the sight.

You blinked. “These are boring too?”

She rubbed the back of her neck. Slapping herself mentally. “The lighting was good. I just… I wanted to remember it. That’s stupid. Forget I said that.”

Your chest ached, but in the good way. The fuck, say it again way.

You touched her arm lightly. “I love them Ellie.”

She looked up. Your eyes met again, that same magnetic, breathless tension pulsing between you like a second heartbeat.

And then someone called Ellie’s name. One of the event staff, and the spell broke.

She cleared her throat, stepping back. “I, uh—I’ll be right back. Save me some fries.”

You nodded, watching her disappear into the crowd. Her camera bouncing gently against her hip, her tie still just slightly crooked from earlier.

You touched your lips without realizing it. Had she taken those voluntarily? She thought you looked good. And of course the Abby thing made her jealous. She was a bad liar. But then again, it was funny seeing her get all red and jealous of that. After all, it is kind of a payback for Cat.

The fundraiser buzzed with renewed energy now that the formalities were done. Music had shifted to a softer jazz track, blending with the ambient clinks of glasses and low conversations. You wandered through the crowd with a fresh drink in hand, soaking it all in, the clothes, the artwork on display, the glittering city skyline beyond the ballroom’s floor-to-ceiling windows.

That’s when you spotted Abby again.

She leaned casually against a pillar near the hors d'oeuvre table, nursing a glass of something that looked expensive. Her suit jacket was off now, sleeves rolled to the elbow, revealing toned forearms that didn’t seem fair on someone also so confident.

She caught your eye and smiled. “Hey, it’s the mystery date.”

You laughed, half-glancing behind you. “You know my name.”

Abby grinned. “Yeah, but this way I get to keep asking.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Is that your go to line?”

“Only when it works.”

She was charming. There was no denying that. And there was a spark of playfulness in her tone that made it hard not to lean into it just a little. So you did—trading jokes and playful banter while your drink slowly disappeared.

Across the room, Ellie watched with her jaw clenched so tight it could’ve cracked her molars.

She was adjusting her camera settings, trying to get better lighting near one of the centerpieces, but her gaze kept sliding over to you and Abby laughing, leaning in a little closer, your lips parting around something you said that made Abby smile like that.

Ellie didn’t hear what you said.

Didn’t matter.

She looked away. Back to the camera. Check the aperture, adjust the white balance, focus, click. Her finger tapped against the shutter button harder than necessary.

She wasn’t jealous. Of course not. Why would she be?

You weren’t hers.

She didn’t have a claim. Couldn’t even bring herself to say half the things she wanted to. God she couldn’t even acknowledge all these feelings she’s been pushing down. Could barely meet your eyes when you fixed her tie earlier without burning alive on the spot. So what right did she have?

Still, when she glanced back and saw Abby tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with a teasing smile. Ellie nearly dropped the camera.

“Fuck” she muttered under her breath, turning sharply away.

Her expression tightened, mouth set in a hard line as she walked toward the other side of the room to "get some crowd shots," even though the lighting was worse over here and she’d already covered it twice.

She needed to do something.

Anything but stand there and watch you smile like that for someone who wasn’t her.

The conversation with Abby flowed easily. She was charming and smooth with her words, making you laugh a few times. But still, your eyes kept drifting to the crowd, scanning for a familiar auburn head of hair.

Eventually, you made your way back from the refreshment table, balancing a small plate of appetizers in one hand and french fries in the other. Your eyes moved carefully across the room until you spotted Ellie off to the side, fiddling with her camera strap. Her jaw was tight, shoulders stiff like she was holding herself together by threads..

You approached her with a soft smile. “Hey, thought you might be hungry. I grabbed you something.”

She glanced at you barely, and then looked back down at her camera. “Thanks,” she muttered bitterness in her tone, but didn’t take the plate.

Your smile faltered. “I—I mean, it’s fine if you’re not. I just figured…”

Ellie let out a breath through her nose. Not quite a sigh, but close enough.

“I’ve gotta go take some shots of Mr. Anderson with a few of the donors,” she said quickly. “He just gave me a list.”

“Oh. Right.” Your throat tightened.

She still wouldn’t look at you. And you had no idea why. You hadn’t done anything wrong. But Ellie’s head was a mess tonight, jealousy clawing at her chest, and she couldn’t trust herself to say anything without it spilling out sideways.

You tried to keep it casual. “Okay. No worries. I’ll just… wait here for you.”

Ellie finally looked up, just for a second. Her eyes softened like she wanted to say something. Needed to…but swallowed it instead. “I’ll be right back,” she said quietly.

She felt like the worst person in the world. That look on your face, she’d put it there. And it made her heart ache. But she needed space. Just for a minute. Not from you, but from her feelings.

You nodded, stepping back, the plate still in your hands. “Yeah. Of course.”

And then she was gone. already walking across the ballroom, camera raised, posture sharp like she had something to prove.

You stood still, the noise of the crowd growing distant. The laughter, the clink of glasses, the low hum of chatter, it all blurred. Like you were underwater. You didn’t know why her sudden coldness cut so deep. Or what had even triggered it.

Maybe she was just stressed. Maybe she couldn’t get the right shot?. Maybe you were overthinking it.

Still, the ache didn’t go away.

You sat back down in silence, surrounded by strangers, the plate of fries growing cold in front of you. The one person who brought you here felt miles away.

Thirty minutes passed, and no sign of Ellie. Your stomach twisted with irritation, your appetite long gone. You set the plate aside and rose to your feet, deciding to take a walk around the exhibits. Maybe clear your head. Maybe have a smoke.

You checked Ellie’s camera bag she’d left it on her seat, and found the Altoids tin tucked inside like you knew it would be. You slipped it into your purse and started wandering through the venue’s wide halls, taking your time with each display, forcing yourself to admire the artwork even as your thoughts drifted.

Eventually, you found a side exit and stepped out into the cold evening air. Marble stairs led down into a quiet courtyard. You sat on the top step, reaching for the tin, taking a cigarette between your lips.

“Fuck,” you muttered. No lighter.

Of course. Ellie had it. She’d used it earlier before leaving her apartment. She always kept it in her pocket.

You sat there defeated, arms wrapped around yourself, cigarette untouched. The cold settled in, seeping into your bare shoulders.

A few long quiet minutes passed.

Then, without a word, something warm draped over your back. You turned quickly.

It was Ellie. Her blazer resting across your shoulders. She didn’t say anything at first, just pulled the lighter from her pocket and flicked it on, igniting the cigarette still tucked between your lips.

Your eyes met hers.

Both static.

The flame hovered for a second longer than necessary, and then she let it go out, the soft click of the lighter closing cutting through the silence like a spark.

There was this look in her eye, a spark of regret glistening in her gaze, Ellie sat down beside you without a word, elbows on her knees, hands clasped loosely between them. The silence lingered for a few moments, just the soft sound of you exhaling smoke and the distant thump of music echoing from inside the building.

“I thought you had ditched me for a second” she said finally, her voice low.

You glanced at her, brows lifting slightly.

“I was a dick,” she continued. “And I’m… I’m sorry.” Almost like she hated saying it out loud.

You didn’t answer at first, just took another drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke sit in your lungs a second longer before exhaling. “Yeah,” you said softly. “You kinda were.”

Ellie winced a little but nodded. She deserved that.

“I don’t know why I acted like that,” Ellie said, thumb running over a scratch on her knuckle. But deep down, she knew exactly why. “Actually—I do. I just don’t wanna say it because it sounds pathetic.”

You looked at her again, eyes softening just a little. “Try me.”

Ellie let out a bitter huff of a laugh. “I just—it’s stupid but, seeing you with Abby, laughing and flirting with her… It made me feel so—I don't know—replaceable? Like maybe you don’t need me at all. And it sucks because I think I might always need you.” Her voice caught at the end, a knot forming in her throat.

You blinked, caught somewhere between shock and the tiniest flicker of hope.

“It’s stupid because you can talk to whoever the hell you want. I just—” she paused, jaw tightening. “I hated how much I hated it.”

You were quiet again, the smoke curling lazily from the end of your cigarette.

“Ellie,” you said softly.

Her eyes met yours. Both of you were facing the other now, close enough that your knees almost brushed. The space between you felt like it was narrowing by the second.

“I could never in a million years replace you. There’s no one quite like you. Abby didn’t mean anything at all. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. You know that, right?”

But oh, how you wished it could be more than just that.

“Yeah, I know,” Ellie murmured, but her chest ached. Was that all she’d ever be to you?

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

You gave her a soft smile. “You didn’t ruin anything, Els. The night’s not over yet, you know?”

Ellie snorted gently. “Yeah. I’m still supposed to be working though.”

You both sat there in a silence that felt lighter now, as if something had finally been unclenched between you.

Ellie glanced over, her voice quieter now, sincere. “You look beautiful tonight,” she said. “Meant to say that earlier. Didn’t.”

You looked at her. Really looked at her. Hair a little messy, shirt slightly wrinkled, the tie now hanging loosely around her neck like she’d forgotten it was there. And those eyes…open, unsure, and a little scared.

You nudged her shoulder. “You look pretty good too. Even when you’re being a jealous asshole.”

Ellie smiled real and warm.

“Still mad at me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Your faces were so close now, just inches apart.

You took one last drag from your cigarette, and without thinking, Ellie reached out and gently plucked it from your lips, slipping it between hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Maybe,” you said, your breath fanning her cheek.

“How much?” she asked, her eyes flickering from your mouth to your eyes again—lingering this time.

Your heart was pounding. Her fingers were still brushing yours from the cigarette exchange. You could feel her breath now, warm and shallow, and your lips were so, so close.

Ellie leaned in—just a few centimeters more and—

“Miss Williams!”

The voice shattered the moment like glass.

You both startled slightly, turning toward the source. It was the event coordinator, heels clicking against the marble as she approached in a hurry, clipboard in hand.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I need you immediately. Dr. Anderson’s about to do the donor photo and you’re the only photographer he’ll work with.”

Ellie blinked, her jaw clenched like she wanted to scream. “Right. Yeah. Coming.”

The woman was already walking off, clearly expecting her to follow.

Ellie looked back at you, guilt flashing behind her eyes. “I—shit. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Go.”

She hesitated for a second longer, then stood up, fixing her tie absently as she followed the coordinator inside.

You sat there alone on the steps, your skin still buzzing from the almost.

And all you could think about was how close she’d been. How close you had leaned in. And how it had almost happened.

You stayed outside for a minute longer, letting the night air calm the fire still burning under your skin. The almost-kiss sat heavy on your lips, like a phantom touch. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, how close she’d been, the way her breath had hitched, how she’d looked at you like you were something sacred.

Eventually, you rose from the marble steps, brushing off the back of your dress and adjusting Ellie’s blazer on your shoulders, as you made your way back through the halls, heart still thudding.

The ballroom was less crowded now, the lighting slightly dimmed to a golden hue. The gentle hum of music played under the laughter and clinking glasses. You kept your head high as you re-entered, trying to blend back in like nothing had happened. Like you weren’t seconds away from kissing your best friend out on the stairs.

You spotted Ellie immediately. Of course you did. She was near the podium now, snapping shots of Dr. Anderson with his donors. Her camera was up, but her eyes kept shifting. Scanning. Searching.

For you.

She found you in an instant, her breath catching when your eyes met. And for a moment, everything stilled.

You gave her the softest smile, the one you knew only she got to see. She blinked, like you’d just knocked the air out of her lungs. Then her camera moved again too quickly. She almost fumbled it, forced herself to look away and pretend like she wasn’t absolutely spiraling.

Ellie tried to focus on the shot, adjusting the aperture, lining up the angle, but every frame looked wrong. The lighting was too harsh, the smiles too forced. Her mind was still outside on the steps, with you. The curve of your mouth. The softness in your voice when you said “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Friend.

She cursed under her breath and took another picture, jaw clenched.

Neither of you could pretend it didn’t happen. And neither of you could figure out what the hell came next.

Her hands were steady. At least, that’s what she was trying to do.

Focus. Aperture. Composition. Lighting.

She adjusted the zoom with mechanical precision, the lens shifting slightly as she snapped another picture of Dr. Anderson with one of the donors. The camera’s shutter clicked, a sound she usually found soothing, grounding. But right now, it just felt like static.

Because all she could fucking think about was you.

You, sitting on the stairs in that dress that made her heart stop. You, leaning into her like maybe—maybe, you were about to kiss her. And then the goddamn coordinator’s voice cutting through the moment like a knife.

She hated how fast she stood up, like she’d been caught. Hated that you pulled away so quickly, face flushing as if maybe you regretted it.

She didn’t even get to say anything. Didn’t get to ask if you’d mean to.

Now, you were somewhere in the crowd probably trying to act normal and she was up here trying to be a professional while her chest was in knots and her brain was looping the moment on repeat like a broken record.

Ellie lifted her camera again. The lens focused on Dr. Anderson shaking hands with a man in a green suit. Her fingers pressed the shutter. One click. Two.

She barely registered the images. Her throat was dry, and she realized she hadn’t spoken in a while.

“Can we get one more, just by the stage?” the coordinator asked.

“Yeah. Sure.” Her voice cracked slightly. She cleared her throat.

She repositioned herself, stepping back and lifting the camera again. But her eyes flicked sideways, automatically. Searching for you. Needing to know where you were.

And there you were, leaning quietly against the far wall, Ellie’s blazer still draped over your shoulders, looking so painfully soft it made her knees weak.

You gave her a small smile when your eyes met, and it wrecked her. Gentle. Reassuring. A little sad, maybe.

She should’ve said something out there. Should’ve kissed you.

But now she was here. She forced herself to look away again. Let the camera be her shield.

Because if she didn’t, she was going to walk across that ballroom, wrap her arms around you, and kiss you in front of every single donor in the room.

And she wasn’t sure she’d survive what would come after.

She was on her way back to you. Eyes already scanning the crowd for the familiar shape of your shoulders, the soft curve of your profile. The blazer still hung loosely around you and Ellie swore she’d never wanted to be a fucking jacket more in her life.

She’d barely taken two steps when someone called her name.

“Miss Williams?”

She turned, a tight smile forming automatically. A tall man in a tailored suit, gray streaks at his temples, glass of champagne in one hand, walked toward her. He looked vaguely familiar. Probably one of the board members Dr. Anderson had introduced her to earlier.

“Yes?” she said, polite.

“I just wanted to say—your work is phenomenal,” he said, “The way you capture people—it’s got heart. That’s rare.”

Ellie nodded, eyes flicking again toward you. You were sitting at a table near the far end, fiddling with a fork, head tilted slightly like you were deep in thought. You looked tired. Beautiful. Miles away.

She forced herself to smile at the guy. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

He kept talking. Asked about her process. About gear. Lighting. “Do you do exhibits? Ever consider a book?”

All she could think about was the way your lips had parted earlier. The way your eyes dropped to hers. The way her heartbeat had been deafening in her ears.

She gave him a few more distracted answers, promised to email a portfolio link, and then finally, finally, the man was called away by Dr. Anderson himself.

Ellie made her way back across the room in a daze, her footsteps slower now. Nervous. Her fingers still tingled from where they’d grazed your hand earlier.

You didn’t say anything when she sat down beside you, but you did nudge a plate toward her. Fries, a little cold now. Chicken skewers. A tiny cupcake. A napkin folded under the fork with her name scribbled on the corner. Her chest ached.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, eyes down.

You just nodded.

Ellie started eating—not because she was hungry, but because her mouth needed something to do other than say something stupid. Like” Were we about to kiss? Or, Did you want me to?”

The silence between you wasn’t awkward, just… careful. Like neither of you wanted to say it first. Neither wanted to break the spell if it turned out it had all been in your heads.

So you both sat there, shoulders brushing, not talking about it at all.

The music dimmed. The lights shifted.

People began leaving in pairs or clusters. Thank you speeches echoed distantly. Ellie chewed on the edge of a fry, eyes still on you.

And still, not a single word about what almost happened. Because it’s easier to pretend it didn’t. Even when both of you are sure it did.

The gala wound down slowly, the last of the champagne glasses emptied and the string quartet packing their instruments in velvet-lined cases. People exchanged cards and polite goodbyes.

You helped Ellie gather her gear, carefully placing her backup lenses in padded compartments, holding her camera bag open while she zipped everything up with methodical precision. Her fingers moved quickly, like muscle memory, but her eyes kept darting to you. Like maybe you’d disappear if she looked away for too long.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, slinging her camera strap over one shoulder. “Gonna give these to Dr. Anderson and the coordinator.”

You nodded. “I’ll wait by the truck.”

She watched you go, the hem of your dress swishing softly with each step. A part of her wanted to call after you. To say something real. Something brave.

Instead, she turned and approached the crowd of remaining staff, handed out the cards, exchanged quick thank-yous and nods. Dr. Anderson complimented her again, and asked her about future projects. She smiled, but her mind was already in the parking lot.

By the time she got back to her truck, you were leaning against the passenger door, arms folded gently across your chest, face lit by the soft amber of the lot lights.

“All done?” you asked.

“Yeah.” she said unlocking the door.

The ride was quiet at first, the city bleeding past in blurred streaks of gold and blue. Then Ellie started talking, voice low and a little raspy from the long night.

“Some of the donors came up to me,” she said. “Said nice shit about my work. One of them asked if I ever thought about putting together a gallery, which is… ridiculous, but whatever.”

Your head dipped against the seat, lids heavier with each word.

“It would be amazing honestly,” you said softly. “All your best pieces of work gathered together, I think you could do it”

Ellie glanced over. “Someday maybe”

You were dozing. Lips slightly parted. Hands curled in your lap.

She smiled, soft and aching.

“I don’t really care what they say, though,” she whispered. “Not really. Not if you’re not the one saying it.”

You stirred faintly, but didn’t wake.

The rest of the drive was filled with low music and even lower thoughts.

When she finally pulled up to your place, she cut the engine, letting the silence settle between you before reaching over gently.

“Hey,” she murmured, brushing your arm.

You blinked awake, groggy. “We’re here?”

“Yeah.”

You yawned, stretching, eyes half-lidded as you turned to her. “Thanks, Els. For taking me. I really enjoyed tonight….”

Ellie chuckled quietly. “Yeah. Me too.”

She walked you to your door, hands in her pockets.

You turned to her, suddenly unsure if you should say something else. But instead, you just leaned in—arms wrapping around her shoulders, her face pressed briefly into your neck.

The hug lasted a second too long.

Neither of you moved to let go right away.

And when you finally did, Ellie gave you a small smile.

You took off the blazer from where it previously laid. Warm on your shoulders, handing it back to Ellie, fingers brushing at the exchange.

“Goodnight Ellie” you said, going up to your doorstep.

“Goodnight” she whispered, backing down.

You watched her go, heart thudding loud against your ribs.

And then she was gone, taillights glowing dimly as her truck rolled out into the quiet street, taking your almost-kiss and every unsaid word with it.

You stepped into the apartment, the door clicking softly shut behind you. With a sigh, you kicked off your heels, letting them fall where they may, and pulled your phone from your purse, fingers trembling.

The weight in your chest had been building all night, tightening with every glance, every unsaid word, every almost. You couldn’t hold it anymore.

You found Dina’s contact and hit “Call,” bringing the phone to your ear as it rang once… twice…

“Hello—”

“I think I’m in love with Ellie.”

You said it before she could even finish her greeting, the words pouring out in a single breath, rushed and delicate—but honest. So honest. And the second they left your lips, something unknotted inside your chest. A confession, quiet but earth-shaking.

Simultaneously, Ellie sat in her truck, hands gripping the steering wheel long after the engine had gone quiet. The hum of the night outside her window did little to quiet the storm inside her chest.

She stared out through the windshield, heart thudding like a drum in her throat. Her tie was still loose around her neck, the scent of your perfume lingering faintly on her blazer. That almost-kiss haunted every corner of her mind.

She pulled out her phone, thumb hesitating for a second before tapping Jesse’s name. It rang twice before his voice came through, hoarse and confused.

“Dude, it’s midnight. What the fuck—”

“I think I’m in love with her.”

The words came out low, like if she said them too loud, they’d become too real.

There was a pause on the other end. “With… her her?”

Ellie slumped back in her seat, covering her eyes with her hand. “Yeah. Her her.”

It was real. It was undeniable. She was in love with her best friend, like some fucking cliche and the weight of it settled over her chest like a secret too big to hold. It pulsed through her veins, raw and terrifying, because loving you wasn’t something she could undo, and the thought of it never being returned made her feel like she might break open right there in the quiet of her truck. It was everything, and it was too much. And still, she wouldn’t take it back.

.

taglist <3

@liasxeatt @80saturn @eleanorsghost @youusunshineyoutemptress @jazzyxox @lesoulew @fangirlinc @hitmehardmommy @liztreez @chwekriz00 @vahnilla @elliespotion @haithone @stwolfhardimaginez @thxtmarvelchick @purinukie @lavenderseedling @elliesfavwife @mikellie @iadorefineshyt @thebadwritersposts @gayandsuffering26 @flynnph0bias @adoreasellie

lmk if anyone else wants to be added !

[cod-bin]

don’t look at me like that (unless you’re gonna stay)

wc: 1.9k

series masterlist (part 4)

a/n: yall can eat this up while im away 💋

cw: slight mentions of sex, heavy swearing by simon, angst (only a little), angry!simon (not at reader), jealousy

He doesn’t say anything else that night.

Not after the kiss. Not after the way he climbed into bed with you like it was second nature, like you were his and he was tired of pretending otherwise. Just laid there — rigid at first — like his body didn’t know how to relax. But you felt it. The way he slowly gave in.

The way his fingers found yours in the dark and curled tight.

Now it’s later. Still dark. Still quiet. You don’t know how long it’s been, only that Simon hasn’t moved. Not really. He’s still behind you, chest warm against your back, arm slung low around your waist.

His breath ghosts the shell of your ear, steady and deep, and for a second you think he’s asleep.

But then he shifts. Just slightly. Like he’s trying not to wake you.

You keep your eyes closed.

It’s stupid, maybe — the way you lie there, pretending. But something about the stillness is too fragile to break. Like if you speak too loud, he’ll remember who he is. Who you are. And it’ll all fall apart.

His fingers twitch against your stomach.

You wonder if he’s thinking about the kiss. You are. You haven’t stopped. It’s branded into you now — the way he kissed you like he was angry at himself for wanting it so badly. Like he’d been holding back for so long, he didn’t know how to be soft.

Maybe he doesn’t.

Maybe he’ll regret it in the morning.

That thought burrows under your skin like a splinter, sharp and sour. You swallow hard.

Because he’s Simon. And Simon kisses girls he doesn’t call back. Simon stumbles in at 3 a.m. with perfume on his collar and scrapes on his throat and never, ever stays the night.

Except… he’s here.

Still.

Wrapped around you like he needs it.

It doesn’t make sense. None of it does. And the longer you lie there, the worse the knot in your chest grows — tight and anxious and scared to hope.

He could have anyone. He has had anyone. Pretty, loud, wild girls with glossy lips and legs for days. Girls who don’t disappear into silence. Who don’t hide behind their bedroom doors, afraid of their own cough echoing through the walls.

So why you?

What the hell could he possibly want with you?

Your throat feels thick again. Too full of everything you’re not supposed to feel. You try to breathe past it — in, out — but it gets caught somewhere between fear and disbelief.

Behind you, Simon shifts.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

His voice is low. Not groggy — just rough, like gravel dragging across concrete.

You hesitate.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” you murmur.

“You didn’t.”

There’s a pause. Not heavy, but full. Like he’s giving you room to say something else.

You don’t.

After a second, you feel him move — slow and deliberate — until he’s propped up on one elbow. You feel the heat of his stare before you see it.

“Turn around,” he says quietly.

You don’t want to. You don’t trust your face not to give you away.

But you do.

And he’s right there — face shadowed in the dark, eyes impossibly soft for someone who’s always been made of stone. He looks at you like he’s trying to read something in your silence, like your stillness is speaking a language only he can understand.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he asks.

You blink up at him, startled. “Nothing.”

“Lie better.”

Your chest tightens.

“It’s nothing. I just…” You trail off. Then you force a little laugh, weak and unconvincing. “It’s weird. Having you here.”

Simon’s jaw ticks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t ask what you mean. He doesn’t have to.

You see it — the way something flashes behind his eyes. Guilt, maybe. Frustration. You’re not sure.

He shifts again, leaning closer, until the room feels too small for what’s sitting between you.

“You think this doesn’t mean anything?” he asks, voice low.

You blink. “What?”

“This.” His hand brushes your side, where his arm had been wrapped. “Us. Right now.”

Your mouth opens. Closes.

“I don’t know what it means,” you admit.

He studies you like that hurts more than it should.

And then, suddenly, he’s talking.

Not loud. Not fast. Just steady. Steady in the way a dam breaks — slow at first, then impossible to stop.

“I don’t do this,” he says. “Stay. Lie in someone’s bed. Let ‘em see me like this.”

Your breath catches.

“I know I’ve made you feel like shit. I know I’ve been an asshole.”

You try to look away. He doesn’t let you.

His hand comes up — fingers grazing your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw.

“You think I don’t want you,” he says softly. “You think I just came here to fuck.”

You flinch.

“I didn’t,” he says. “I swear to God, I didn’t.”

“Then why?” you whisper. “Why me?”

It comes out too raw. Too desperate. You hate yourself for it — for needing to know, for asking like it matters.

But Simon doesn’t pull away.

He stares at you for a long moment, like he’s weighing something heavy.

Then he leans in, presses his forehead to yours.

“You’re not like them,” he says, so quietly it makes your heart ache. “You never were.”

You swallow hard.

“You hide away. You think no one sees you. But I do.”

He kisses your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth.

“I see you when you’re tucked in the corner of the couch with your books. When you sneak out in the morning before I’ve even gotten dressed. When you cough in your room and think I’m not listening.”

You close your eyes. “Simon—”

“I notice everything,” he says. “And it’s been driving me fucking crazy.”

And then he kisses you again.

This time it’s not frantic. Not angry.

It’s soft.

Like he’s trying to prove something.

Like he’s scared of what it’ll mean if he doesn’t do it right.

You melt.

There’s no other word for it — you melt into him, into the heat of his body, the weight of his hand on your waist, the way he kisses you like you’re precious, like he’s afraid he’ll scare you off.

When he pulls back, he doesn’t go far.

Just enough to look at you again, eyes unreadable.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he says.

You reach up, touching the side of his face.

“We’ll figure it out.”

He stares at you for a moment longer. Then he nods.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “We will.”

—————

Simon doesn’t let you go.

Even after everything’s been said — after the softest kiss, after the whisper of we’ll figure it out — he just holds you. Like maybe if he lets go, it’ll all come undone. You feel it in the way his arm tightens around your waist, in the way his nose nudges the side of your face like he’s making sure you’re still there.

You let yourself lean into it.

Let yourself want this.

“You should sleep,” he murmurs eventually.

You shake your head, voice low. “You’ll disappear.”

His silence answers you. Not a lie. Just quiet.

Then — “I won’t.”

You glance up at him, skeptical.

He huffs, almost a laugh, eyes heavy but honest. “I’m shit at this. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”

You don’t know what to say. So you nod. That’s all. Just… nod.

Simon shifts, presses another kiss to the top of your head. His voice is rough again when he speaks, but not like before. Not angry.

“You were right, by the way.”

“About what?”

“I hook up with a lot of girls.”

Your stomach twists.

“But it’s not because I want to. It’s ‘cause I didn’t know what else to do. You think I didn’t notice you? Truth is, I noticed you so much it fucked me up. Every time I saw you in the kitchen with your tea and your goddamn hoodie sleeves over your hands—”

He pauses. Breathes. Shakes his head like he hates himself for saying it out loud.

“I didn’t know how to want someone like that. All soft and quiet and real.”

Your heart is beating so loud it hurts.

He exhales. “But I want you. And I’m not gonna pretend I don’t anymore.”

You’re quiet for a moment.

Then, softly: “Okay.”

That’s all he needs.

Simon pulls you closer, tucks your head under his chin, and stays.

—————

You stay like that for a long time, just breathing each other in, the quiet of the room thick and heavy but somehow safe. You realize how much you’ve been craving this—the simplicity of being held without having to pretend, without the noise of the world pressing in.

Simon’s fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, his touch steady, almost reverent. The way he looks at you now, not with that usual cocky edge but something softer, something almost fragile, makes your chest tighten in a way that’s both terrifying and thrilling.

“Never thought I’d say this,” he murmurs, voice low enough that it’s just between you two, “but I’m glad you got sick.”

You blink up at him, startled. “What?”

He presses a gentle kiss just behind your ear. “Because otherwise, I wouldn’t have had a reason to come find you like this. To actually be here. Not just passing through.”

Your heart twists. You want to tell him it’s not fair, that you don’t want him to just show up when you’re vulnerable. But the words catch in your throat, and instead you lean into him, letting yourself be held.

There’s a long pause. Then he whispers, “I don’t do feelings. You know that.”

You nod slowly. “I know.”

“But maybe… maybe I can learn.”

And in the quiet dark, with his arms wrapped around you like he’s never letting go, you believe him.

☆taglist☆

@little-mini-me-world @h0lydrag0ns @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @pixiellove @fruitymoonbeams-blog @jokerivory @arrowacer @4ri3n @yasmin-003 @charliehunnamsleftsock @strawberrymilk99 @queenoflaflames @xigua2kuai5yijin @arnnf @genea-myers @elixir-of-dreams @turtlegreentia @pinkembodiment @bbygirl9 @echo9821 @illyanam1011 @luciferstempest @lostintransist @dethspllz @letstryagaintomorrow @hypertail @cr0wbrz @enfppuff @elegantangelenthusiast @trashprincss @youngandweird @mafer383 @eremika104 @avgdestitute @poshestpigeon @tessakate @hyperobsessedd @ohdrey89

[nayaesworld]

My favorite Dork

A/N: something short because this idea was stuck in my head for a complete week straight 😭..I hope yall enjoy🤭

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“You’re such a dork!”

“Mmcht..you said you liked it when I explained these things to you?” Terry turned and laid between your legs with his back turned to you as you stroked the short curls on his head. You loved listening to him blab to his heart's content about his favorite nerdy shows and topics. It made your coochie drip like a faucet when his sea green eyes lit up and that boyish grin found his face, it was so sexy and you had it all to yourself.

“I do, you're MY nerd. And if you said Eren Yeager had a right to let all those people die…I believe you bubby.” Terry had been hell bent on explaining Attack on Titans from beginning to end, making sure you understood every detail minor and large. He had a cute obsession with the show and the shelves in his room were lined with figurines, his closet had hoodies with his other favorite animes on them, and his watchlist on his tv was filled with new and old shows.

“All you gotta understand is that Eren is that nigga, and he was destined for this shit…end of story.” His voice elevated with excitement and his shirtless body was warm against your legs. You tapped his shoulder signaling him to lean up. Your sticky arousal was becoming uncomfortable in your panties and you needed to catch your breath to try and settle your horny thoughts.

“I need to go to the restroom bubby I’ll be right back.” You stood up from the bed pulling the pink sleep romper from between your heavy cheeks. A heavy smack on your right cheek had you spinning around quickly to face your best friend, a silly smirk on his mischievous face.

“I don't know why you walk around in this…why are you tempting me when you know you can’t handle this dick?” A tiny gasp left your mouth and your mouth sat open for a while thinking of a comeback.

“Me tempting you, Terry you tempt me often trust me…plus it’s not that I couldn’t handle it, you’re just so big. I’ve never tried to take anything that big before and I’ll admit I chickened out so what.” You rolled your chocolate eyes at him and crossed your arms. You were more than down for the dick at the time but seeing it and taking it was two complete different things.

“You know I had to jerk off to your panties that night…I was so horny that night when you left. And your panties were still so soaked I-I couldn’t let all that juice go to waste so I used it.” Your head was spinning at this point and you could barely stare him in his face after his confession.

His tall body sat on the edge of the bed, bulky arms reaching for her waist and pulling her into his open legs.

“Remember those FaceTime calls we used to do..I miss those, I wish we never stopped them.” You sighed and looked down at him. When the two of you were separate from each other masturbating on FaceTime was the go to…you’d get all wet and leak all over your bed from his deep velvet voice and moans.

“Terry I was in a relationship at the time, that’s why we stopped them… I thought he was a good guy and I didn’t want to risk what we were building.” He snorted at that and rubbed along the backside of her thighs.

“Yeah and that ended with me whooping his ass…y/n you’ll always have me I need you to understand that. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me to.”

“And I’ll always thank you for beating his ass, he was a dick and you protected me regardless of how you felt about our relationship..I love you bubby.” You leaned down to trail kisses across his face trailing them eagerly to his ear.

“When you nerd out and get all excited it makes me so wet. Do you know how many nights I had to go home and stuff my pussy because of you..and you were just so oblivious to it all, how I’d encourage you to keep talking.”

“All these years I’ve been sitting here yapping and you were turned on by it…you’re a tease you know that right?”

“It was my dirty little secret..it was innocent on your end but I was just being a freak. I wanna try something new, if you’re up for it.” His pretty green eyes held hers in a suspicious glare.

“What you trying to get into peaches?” Oh he was not playing fair.

“Oh now I’m peaches again, boy you are so sneaky. Now listen up..I’ve always had this fantasy I wanted to act out with you. I always wanted to jerk off a nerd and listen to him blab about his interests, I’ve wanted that nerd to be you for a long time.”

“You know you my peaches when you get nasty, and I’ll fulfill whatever fantasy you want…there’s lube in my top drawer.” You shook with excitement and bounded to his sleek black dresser to retrieve the bottle of pineapple flavored lube.

Your hands worked to unbutton the top of your romper. Double D titties bouncing as you positioned yourself on your knees in front of Terry to give him a perfect view of your plentiful breast. Your hands ran over his black netted basketball shorts, his heavy bulge making a tent in them. Eager to get your hands on the monster you motioned for him to pull them down just enough for you to work your magic. Your heavy breast kept him occupied as you squeezed a hefty amount of lube into your hands.

“Is there something new that you’ve been interested in bubby?” Your hands saturated his shaft in the flavored lube as you stared up at him expectantly.

His fingers twirled a taut nipple before he answered. “Mhmh…a show on Netflix based on a book I read. It-It’s about a mutant’s journey to protect his child surprise…fuck squeeze my tip. Yesss.” One hand sat firmly at his base, the other tightly wrapped around the leaking head.

“I like how you’re two different colors…prettiest dick I’ve ever seen. Keep talking, I wanna know more.” Lips now placing kisses lightly to the pulsing appendage.

“He tries to help her uncover her powers and hone them while building her trust…creating a bond with her. Fuckkk peaches hmm…suck it harder uh huh, now open wider let me fuck this throat.”

Mouth wide and tongue out, you welcomed nine inches of pineapple flavored dick down your throat. His toes ground into the carpet as he found his footing to serve mouth watering strokes to your mouth. Saliva dripped down your chin to your breast as his balls slapped your chin.

“I want this pussy next and I don’t want no excuses…shake your head yess.” your greedy hands tugged softly on his heavy sack and you shook your head up and down.

“If you can throat it you can take it right?” This time he nodded your head for you, too impatient to wait for your response.

“Y/N is scared of dick…but not peaches huh? Peaches takes dick she don’t run from it, ain't that right?” You were beyond turned on, freaked out, and now you were letting him hype you into taking nine inches of pulsating dick. No more running from the dick.

“If you nut before me you owe me a trip to Sephora…you better hold out big boy.”

Nerdy dick was the best dick…that point you couldn’t argue

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@becauseimswagman1 @ranikyani @blyffe @23jammy @keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @hotgrlcece @henneseyhoe @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @blackmoonchilee @tvchi @blackerthings

[nativegirltapes]

⸻ ┊͙ the one where drew breaks up with angel !

warnings: angst, flashback to the argument is italicized, arguing over odessa, reader is sad asl 🩷 also angel x drew is not like a series, so it’s not like they’re broken up ‘forever’ ? if that makes sense. i just make blurbs based on random diff times during the relationship, it’s not like a set series where things are happening in order. hopefully that makes sense to someone 🧁 i kinda hate this. lmk yall

you don’t know how drew did it, how he put a smile on his face for the world to see when he broke your heart last night. was it possible that you really mean nothing to him?

scrolling on your phone looking at all the new pictures of drew at his premiere, he looked so happy. part of you hoped that he felt just as miserable as you did on the inside.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“i mean really drew,” you threw your arms up in the air. “how many fucking times do i need to say i have an issue with her?”

“don’t start this bullshit again.” drew shook his head, you’d never heard him shout at you so loud before. “maybe if you could just have a simple conversation? instead of poutin’ and complaining? all you do is shut down when you’re upset. what am i supposed to do with that?”

you couldn’t even argue because you felt yourself shutting down, just like drew said you always did. “i don’t know what you want me to do.” you sounded so defeated, because you were. you weren’t sure how you were going to dig yourself out of this one. drew didn’t seem to be budging either, like he usually did.

“it’s the same thing over and over.” drew kept going, his temper didn’t seem to be slowing down. was this feeling pent up the whole time? “when have i ever shown you that i’m disloyal to you?”

never. he’s never shown that he’s disloyal to you. not once. "i don’t know! I just dont understand why you need her around when i’ve clearly shown that i don’t like her!” you rebuttled, unsure of anything else to say.

“because y/n, what don’t you get? she’s my fucking friend! she’s been around longer than you! you think i’m just supposed to fucking drop every woman i’ve ever been friends with just to make you happy?” drew got up from your pink fuzzy chair, the one he’s been sat on for the past 20 minutes while arguing with you. you hoped this wasn’t the last time he’d ever be sitting there. “this just isn’t working. i'm sorry” drew led himself out your dorm room, leaving you there crying.

drew hated seeing you cry, so much that he promised you that as long as you were with him, you'd never be left alone or upset, no matter how angry he was.

so, why did he leave you there crying into your own hands, hoping that this wouldn't hurt too much?

ੈ✩‧₊˚

so now, there you laid, on your dorm bed, in the same room drew left you. everything around you reminding you of him, all the stuffies he’d bought you, the pictures of you and him hanging on your wall, the flowers he surprised you with, sitting at your desk - looking right back at you, slowly dying away.

you opened your gallery, there were pictures of him from just two days ago, his eyes filled with nothing but love for you. what went wrong?

[ashes-writing-corner]

Damn this is my longest chapter to date yall! Things are gonna start looking up a little for these two after this. I really hope you all enjoy it!

Taglist: @exactlyelegantwizard, @xenoanamorph, @hoeia-strigoi, @arwenkenobi48, @xanth420, @serpentdeath, @landlockedmermaid77, @uncensored-aj, @mypackpride, @whisperingwillowe, @sasksdemorg, and @emimuart

Without further ado:

Exile: A Nosferatu Fanfic

Chapter 7

Second, third, and hundredth chances, balancing on breaking branches. Those eyes add insult to injury…

She woke briefly, her head against something solid, strong. There was a faint, faint sound in her ear. It was like a watch wrapped in a thick covering. Her arms and shoulders were covered, as the wind pushed against her. Ellen looked up to see Orlok, keeping a hold of her as they rode back together. He looked…different in a way.

More alive, more…wholesome even. Did she do that? Did her blood do that? He had more color to his skin, and Ellen swore she saw a little more hair on his head. He looked down at her, and his eyes had gone from their moonlit shade to an almost storm cloud gray. Ellen looked into those eyes for all of a moment, and she saw a flash of concern in them before again, she slipped back into the darkness of her mind…

He rode faster back to the castle, the cold hitting him harder than he remembered. He was actually feeling it. For the first time in centuries, he felt it in his fingers. What in the world had his little Sylph done to him? One drink of her blood had affected him in a way Orlok couldn’t explain.

His hands had lost their pale, deathly pallor. He now had a soft slight color to them…like he was alive once again. It wasn’t a feeling he was sure he liked, given the circumstances of their being here. He felt stronger, but at the same time he felt human and he couldn’t stand that. Orlok didn’t want to be anything resembling human.

Resembling weakness.

He rode with Ellen back to the castle and carried her inside, the wolfhounds following close behind. They were all worried about her, and about how this revelation of her blood would affect their master. He was of course both concerned and curious, wondering if this strange Other World was giving them qualities of one another. A little of herself in him and a little of himself in her.

“How quaint…” the count thought, laying her down in bed.

Furie joined her on the bed, curling up next to her, while his siblings laid on either side on the floor. Sure they’d keep watch over her, but Orlok had no desire to leave Ellen’s side just yet. He wanted to make sure she was completely okay, as using power like that had the potential to leave the user with effects similar to an overdose. Yes, it was possible to overdose or overuse magic. It was a tricky thing, even in this world. But from what Orlok was beginning to understand was that, at least here in the Other World, there was no such thing as light or dark magic.

It was about intention. It was what one wanted to do with their magic that ultimately determined its power and price. Again, a quaint little thing. In the living world, there was magic of varying types, though generally falling into the light or the dark. Looking at his hand once more, he was beginning to lose feeling in it again. The price was paid, he didn’t need her blood anymore, so the effect was wearing off.

Orlok looked at Ellen as she rested, noting her color had returned to her when once she was pale. This more or less confirmed his theory. They seemed to draw power from each other now more acutely than they did in life. No light, no dark, only intention and an equal price to pay.

“Of all the oddities…we have become a part of each other” he thought aloud, still looking at her.

It was how he felt she was in danger, why he felt compelled to come to her aid despite his anger. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a will of his own, he did. He was still upset about her finding out about Mirela. He knew she would have questions, and Orlok wasn’t sure he was willing to answer those questions just yet.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to face it just yet.

There was so much to do…so much to figure out. He didn’t want to focus on the past right now. He didn’t want to think of who he was, what he had lost. Durere raised his head, as if sensing his master’s inner emotions. The wolfhound got up and went towards the door, most likely going to grab something that would only deepen it. He had a nasty habit of that.

Not this time.

“Durere! Sedere!” Orlok commanded and the wolfhound stopped, turning to face him.

The two locked eyes as if challenging the other. Durere would try, but Orlok always came out on top whenever he was aware of his tricks. During moments of awareness. He was master right now…

The wolfhound’s ears flattened and he practically crawled back towards his master. Durere put his head under his extended hand. For now, the wolfhound conceded defeat.

“Why…why do you call them those things?” Ellen’s voice cut through his thoughts and Orlok turned to her.

“You’re awake” he noted.

She nodded weakly. “Barely…I think”.

“You’re weak from how much I took from you. You need to-”.

“Why did you name them that way?” she asked, ignoring his concerns.

“Ellen…Micul Suflet…They’re just names” he told her.

“No, no…something tells me it’s more than-”.

“You need to rest. I took too much from you. You’re thinking of things that aren’t important”.

“Stop…Orlok…please stop. Stop hiding. Talk to me. Trust me”.

“It isn’t a matter of trust, little one. You are not thinking with a clear mind”.

“No, I am. If they are truly just names, why are you so defensive about them? Would you prefer to talk about what I saw? What I found down there? Who was she? Who was Mirela?” Ellen sat up.

She wasn’t trying to be forceful, but she knew something was going on here. Something she had an idea of but it was just that: An idea. Only he knew the truth. Ellen needed to know what was going on. What was this place? Why were they here? What were those things that attacked her back there?

Orlok growled but Ellen put her hand in his. “Please…I have questions and I think only you know the answers. If I’m never going to know anyone or anything else, I want to know you at least”.

He looked at their hands, now loosely entwined, and Orlok felt his heart lurch. It didn’t feel right, keeping things from her. For all they were to each other, for all they went through. But the Count had no desire to burden her, even if she was volunteering to take on said burden. Ellen looked at him with those soft eyes, those eyes that were among the last things he ever saw in the world of the living. Eyes he both loved and hated. Adored and despised…

“Please…you didn’t hide from me before. Don’t hide now” Ellen pleaded.

How tempting she was…How he wanted so badly to tell her everything. But again, not wanting to let himself be vulnerable, Orlok kept his guard up, pulling his hand away from her sharper than he intended.

“When you’re better rested we’ll talk” he told her, “Starting with why you were down there”.

“Are you then to reprimand me?! Like I’m some child?!” Ellen demanded.

The count snarled and turned to her again. “I just saved your soul! Do NOT make me regret it, little Sylph. I came when you needed me…Like those hounds you have at your feet! And this is how you repay me?! By questioning me?! By claiming to not know me?!”.

“I don’t know you! Not how…how I’d like to…”.

For a moment, Orlok was stunned into silence. She wanted to know him, despite everything he did. She wanted to know him fully, truly. For all of a moment, he was touched in a way that he hadn’t been in a long time. But once again, pride won out.

“You know only what you need to know. Nothing more”.

Ellen frowned. “You don’t trust me”.

“It is not a matter of trust, as I said-”.

“It is. We won’t last, not like this. If we’re to make it through this somehow, if we’re to co-exist, we need to trust each other. You know everything there is to know about me! But you can’t grant me the same courtesy?! Why? What are you afraid of?!”

“I fear nothing!”

“Then prove it!”

Orlok snarled. “I’ve proven myself more than enough, have I not?”.

“Please…” she got up and came right to him, taking his face in her hands, “Please, trust me. We need to trust each other. It’s the only way. We won’t make it otherwise…” Ellen looked up at him, “You trusted me once. You loved me once. What has changed? Tell me”.

He hesitated. “This world is…different. A place made up of memories, or at least, fragments of memories”.

“Memories?” Ellen cocked her head curiously.

“Haven’t you noticed? There are things around here that once were yours, and others that once were mine. Fragments and pieces of who we once were, all now merged into one place”.

“So this isn’t the afterlife?”.

“It isn’t THE afterlife in the way humans think. We were not human when we died. Their afterlife isn’t ours”.

“So then it’s an afterlife then? One designed specifically for us?”

“Our own creation. An amalgamation of all we have ever been, whether together or not”.

“Pieces of our lives all together in one place. But why?”.

“Some things we hold on to far too tightly we carry them in death. They follow us into this world. It’s how it is created. For example, your wedding bouquet is downstairs on my dining room table. I’ve tried to burn it countless times. And it keeps…coming…back” Orlok growled, saying it through gritted teeth.

“Wait it’s downstairs? My actual-”

“Yes”.

“And you’ve tried to destroy it?!”

“Also yes”.

Ellen glared. “Seriously?! Why?!”

“Because I don’t want any trace of your marriage to that useless mouse anywhere near me!”

“He wasn’t a mouse, he loved me! Thomas LOVED me!”

Orlok growled and shook his head. “You may think he did, and perhaps to an extent it’s true. But he didn’t love you the way you wanted. The way you needed, Micul Suflet…”

He leaned in closer, their heads almost touching. Ellen felt his long fingered hand caress her cheek. The texture was rough, but not in a painful way. Rather in a way that just simply made her senses writhe beneath the surface, like a ball of unsettled serpents. Despite that, Ellen couldn’t help but lean into his touch, cool and oddly comforting. It felt like he was touching not her face but her very soul, as though he could sink his claws in and rake them down the very fabric of her being.

But he didn’t.

No. That wasn’t who he was with her. Not with her. Ellen knew that. His claws didn’t even break skin. In fact, they never did. Sure she had a few scratch marks after their otherworldly encounters, but he never made her bleed until the last. For a moment, she remembered that. He never, ever made her bleed.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t hurt her. He was always a bit of a rough lover. He always was. Even more so just before…

“You abandoned me” Ellen said feeling his lips come closer to hers, “Why did you abandon me? I needed you and you-”.

Orlok cut her off with a passionate kiss, not wanting to focus on that right now. So many questions his little sylph had…none of which he wanted to answer at the moment. All he wanted was for her to rest and leave his own troubles to him. No matter what, he would not burden her. His pain was not hers to bear…

He released her, leaving Ellen soft, like she was floating back into Chaos. Her mind clouded a little and all she could think of was him. His eyes on hers, his hands on her. Ellen gently ran her hands down on his chest, feeling the ever so faint beat of his heart where once there wasn’t even a single one. How maddening was it that he was more alive in death than he was in life, at least when she knew him?

“I’m sorry…I did this to you. I turned you into this…this thing” she told him, her eyes sad.

“No, No it wasn’t all you-”.

“You said so yourself. I was your affliction…and it appears I still am. I always will be…” she slid her hands away from him and turned away, “Perhaps that’s why you left me…”.

“No…No little sylph. That wasn’t-”.

“Then why?” She asked, “You could’ve stolen me away any time. Anytime after my papa died and you…you didn’t. You let me marry Thomas”.

A flash of hurt reflected in his eyes at that. It was true, he could’ve had her years ago, and avoided all of this mess. He could’ve had her repledge her vow at any point after her father’s passing. But he didn’t. He knew why…And he was surprised she didn’t realize why.

He didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to admit it out loud…but for her sake, he had to….

“I am what I am. And you could not love me for all I was, nor was I willing to curse you like I was. My anger was my greatest fault, and you were falling victim to it as well. You don’t hurt someone you love…”.

Ellen turned to face him again at that only to find he was gone, vanished as if he was never there. Left alone with the dogs and her thoughts, all Ellen could do was shake her head.

“Orlok…”

If you guys enjoyed this please like, comment, and reblog! Your support is very much appreciated!!!! Thank you all so very much! ^-^ if you want to be added to the taglist please let me know!

[purplemagics-blog]

MY LOGAN HOWLETT/WOLVERINE HEAD CANONS!!🐱🚬

LMAOO JUST SO YALL KNOW HALF OF THERES IS JUST LOGAN ACTING LIKE A CAT😭

Oh yeah and most of these take place in Deadpool and Wolverine before and after everybody in the X men died

1.) When no one is looking Logan sits in box’s like a cat. Ones Scott walked in on him doing it and to this day is still teasing him about it.

2.) When someone is taking a picture of him his eyes glow like when someone takes a picture of a cat.

3.) An actual mess when drunk to the point of crying. Ones Wade had to carry him bridal style out of bar cuz the bar called him so be could get “a man that is just sitting there crying while drinking a bottle of whiskey”

4.) Holds onto grudges harder than the average person. Once Wade accidentally spilled wine on his new white sweater and he didn’t talk to Wade for 5 months.

5.) Sometimes when bored Wade will take out a laser pointer and Pointed at the wall as he watches, Logan try to catch it and destroy the apartment in the process.

6.) at one point Wade forest Logan to go to therapy a.k.a. Wade dressed up like some old therapist and sat Logan down on the couch.

7.)Logan sleeps in Wade’s room cuz be doesn’t want to be alone when he is having nightmares/flashbacks.🥹

8.) speaking of nightmares and flashbacks Wade comfort, and holds Logan in his arms when he realizes he is not in the nightmare anymore.

9.) Logan is very paranoid and deathly scared of pickles and tinfoil like a cat LMAOO. (Wade knows this and takes advantage of this every single time)

10.) Logan is embarrassed by the smallest things but acts like it doesn’t affect him.

11.) Logan has a “white girl playlist” with Taylor, Swift, and Katy Perry on it.

12.) speaking of music he listens to Arctic Monkeys and his favorite song by them is “sex, drugs, etc.”

13.) Ones Scott took his box of cigarettes and Logan begged on his hands and knees to give it back.

14.) In the “worst Wolverine” universe he was fighting with Jean for Scott like how he was fighting with Scott for Jean in other universes and that night when he went to the bar and got shit faced. He finally gathered enough courage to ask Scott out but by the time he was there everyone was dead and he still beats himself up mentally for being to much of a pussy to ask him out before. :( (Sorry had that one in my mind for a while just needed to tell someone about it)

15.)He loves pancakes. Like you don’t even understand HE LOVES PANCAKES A LOT! (Especially Scott’s pancakes🥹)

16.) He takes game night a little too seriously. Like if he catches you cheating he’s going to fuck you up LMAO. Also, no matter what he will not let everyone quit until the game is over.

17.) Reads cooking magazines in his free time. He cannot cook.

18.) speaking of cooking this man is absolute dog shit at cooking😭🙏🏽 this man can’t even make a grilled cheese without burning the kitchen down. (And he may or may not act like he doesn’t know how to cook something he does cook just so Scott can cook it for him)

19.) He acts like he listens to country music even though he can’t name one song.

20.) He needs reading glasses but he just refuses to wear them but Xavier after some pushing and convincing got him to wear ✨contacts✨

21.) FUCKING LOVES CATS. But he acts like he doesn’t.

22.) fucking hates doing the laundry tbh hates doing any chores.

23.) Purrs when he has a good dream!

24.) Needs at pillowcases and his bed like a cat.

25.) his bed is more like a nest but he fully denies it saying it’s just for to keep warm. What I mean by nest is pillow, pillowcases, blankets old clothes just laid across his bed like a nest where he just sleeps in the middle of all of it.

26.) Even if he comes home covered in blood she will still lay in bed and go to bed if he’s tired, no matter how dirty he is.

27.) at this point is not faced by gore.

28.) if one of the X-Men members gets a cat, he will ask them to pet sit for them while they’re on missions. 

29.) Loves when his partners sit in his lap.

30.) 100% AT LEAST IN ONE UNIVERSE POLYAMOROUS WITH JEAN AND SCOTT!!

OK, that’s all I got, but I post a part two if I come up with more 

Honestly, same 

[starysky1289]

Rookie!Vanessa X Guitarist!Reader. Steady

“ where’s our next gig at Mathew? “

“ why, so you can tell your new cop girlfriend to come watch? “

You groaned, ever sense the previous concert, Mathew and your fellow band mates may as well off been living in your business about you and Vanessa. You two didn’t really talk after the concert, besides the texting and the…lovely photos she sent you. You’d still find yourself going back and looking at them every now and then.

You all were setting up to start practice, when the patrol car rolled up to your garage. Everyone Audibly groaned, as Mathew walked down to the car, Derek got out, Vanessa at his side.

“ we haven’t even played, and fucking karen already called you? What’s wrong now?? “

“ I’m sorry matt, but yall can’t practice here anymore. The only person who has any right to practice in the house is Y/N. I’m sorry guys, to many reports “

“ this is bullshit! “

Mathew stormed back into your garage, angrily packing his stuff. You sighed, putting your bass down as you walked down to the officers.

“ officers, are you sure we can’t like, appeal this? We don’t have anywhere else to practice, we don’t get paid enough to rent out a space. “

“ I’m sorry y/n. You can try and appeal, but that’d cost more than a practice space. I’d suggest looking around for people who’d let you practice in open apartments or something, not much else I can- “

“ Fuck you Derek! And fuck you ‘ Officer Vanessa ‘, fucking rookie Bitch. “

Mathew shouted at the officers as he stormed into his car, immediately driving off. You stood alone, your other bandmates packing up, talking amongst themselves, glaring at you. Like it was your fault just because you had conversations with Vanessa.

“ I’m..I’m so sorry y/n…I can help you look if you want- “

“ save it. I don’t need your excuses…”

You groaned, turning back and heading into your garage, packing up the bass and heading inside. You threw the case on your couch, making sure it didn’t fall off, before laying on your bed, screaming into your pillow. Stupid neighbor, stupid cops. You couldn’t stand them anymore.

*~*

It was late, you were still up, starring at the ceiling. You had to eat something, you hadn’t eaten all day. You got up, heading to the kitchen, as your phone buzzed. You picked it up, looking down at the text message.

Vanessa.

“ Hey, can we talk? Maybe I can come over or we can call? “

You sighed, you weren’t mad at her. You’re here just upset at everything else. You shot her back a quick text before going to make something to eat.

“ You can come over. I suppose we should talk. “

*~*

Vanessa had came, like she said she would. She wore a simply beige sweater and some black pants, her blonde hair still in its ponytail. You let her in, leading her to the living room, letting her sit on the open spot on the couch. Your guitar case was still on it, so you pulled it off and laid it on your lap, opening it and singing. Its yellow metal was cold on your fingers, as you ran your hand over the black stripes on its edge.

“ Mathew didn’t mean what he said to you. You can understand why we’re upset. We don’t have anywhere else to practice, and our next few shows won’t get us enough money to pay for a studio to practice in. “

“ I know he’s upset, and you are too. What about a family member..? Maybe they could- “

“ I have no more family. None that’ll support me. My parents are mad I dropped out of college and joined this band cause I didn’t wanna be a lawyer. I guess it’s kinda stupid on my end, but I, I couldn’t do it. “

Vanessa was gentle with you, hiding your hand on the bass, studying it with you. She didn’t want to be the first to speak, she knew you had a lot on your mind.

“ in all honesty, Mathew is a douchebag. I originally wanted to be a singer, I could be double trouble, bass and vocals? I’d sell out clubs, but he was persistent about him singing cause he was the ‘ leader ‘. So we all just keep quiet, even if he didn’t sing to well “

“ oh, thank god I’m not the only one who thought he sucked the other day. You thought, you played wonderfully, the solo you had was amazing. I bet your voice is just as good as your bass skills too. “

You chuckled, closing the case and putting it to the side. You looked around the room, before back at Vanessa, sighing.

“ about the other night. I’m sorry I’ve ghosted you…I-i never ment too. I was so flustered from your photos, and then my mate’s have found out I talked to you and are all up my ass about it….i just..I’m not good at being a communicator…”

“ y/n…im not mad at you. I knew you practiced today, I figured what’s her name Karen would call and file a complaint, and we’d come up. I didn’t know about the situation until Derek said it to Mathew. I was gonna talk to you then, if things didn’t get out of hand. Did I, go to far with the nudes-? “

You quickly shook your head, slightly squeezing her hand before smiling softly.

“ n-no you didn’t! I..I enjoyed them..quite a w-welcome surprise. “

She scooted closer to you, holding both your hands now, blushing as she struggled to get her words out.

“ do you wanna…see it in person~? “

Your heart skipped a beat, as quickly burried your face in your hands, akwardly chuckling. The last thing you expected was her offering something like that.

“ think of it as a apology…we could…if you want, do more- “

“ n-no! No I’m just..I-I’m not ready for that..I should take you out a few t-times before I deserve that..”

“ alright then. Do you..wanna see them then..? “

You poked your head out from your hands, and nodded silently. Vanessa chuckled, taking your hands and putting them on her lap. She slowly lifted her sweater and bra, almost teasingly pulling it up enough for her tits to pop out. You blushed again, but stayed frozen. She looked just as gorgeous as she did in the pictures, her skin practically glowing in the dimly lit house.

“ you wanna touch me y/n..?. “

“ y-yes…yes please…”

Vanessa took your hands and placed them on her chest, letting you gently squeeze them. Her skin was just as soft as you imagined, as you gently massaged them she’d let out little moans, that’d only make you blush darker.

“ y-your so..pretty…I-i…I’m s-sorry I-I was mean to y-you earlier, I-i..”.

“ shh…it’s alright honey…cmere…”

You gently let go of here, and she pulled you into a hug. You held onto her tightly, putting your head in the crook of her neck. You pulled down her sweater to try and warm her.

She pulled back, holding your face in her hands, and kissed you gently. You felt like you were going to explode from it, your heart was racing. Vanessa could see it in your face and chuckled.

“ if…you want, you guys can practice in my place…and you can pay me back by taking me to dinner~ “

“ r-really! I-I mean..you’d let us? “

“ yeah, I have a open bedroom, yall can practice in there. I wouldn’t mind having a little show either. “

You chuckled, smiling again. For the first time you felt so loved, so appreciated. You kissed her once again, standing up and leading her to the door.

“ well…give me a text..I’ll try and talk to the guys. Thank you Vanessa..thank you so much…”

“ of course y/n. I love you dear…”

You smiled, and hugged her tightly.

“ I love you too…”

Vanessa let go, and made her way to the car. She hopped in, waving to you before driving off. You stood, watching her leave, before heading back inside. Never once where you shown such care and respect for your art, you couldn’t let go of her.

[kuroosdarling]

best friend

♡‧₊˚ kuroo x reader

♡‧₊˚ wc: 1.6k

♡‧₊˚ cw: none :)

♡‧₊˚ synopsis: kuroos exhausted and curling up next to you after a long week seems like the most perfect night. aka domestic bliss with tetsu and taking in the small, meaningful moments <3

a/n: thank you for all the love n support with this series yall. it means sm to me that you’re enjoying these lil fics hehe almost at the end !! don’t hate me but i rlly didn’t know how to end this fic pls !! just wanted summ cute :’) enjoy !!

dear tetsu ♡

marriage was something that kuroo never thought was going to be in the cards for him. he figured that he’d never get to a point in life where he could open himself up to someone like that, to completely surrender his heart. to fully trust someone to lean on and know they’d never leave you. all his life he had actively avoided it. it wasn’t that he didn’t want it – it was the opposite. he wanted it so badly it had scared him from even trying to go after it.

he saw what a marriage could do to someone – to two people who were “in love”. watching his parents' marriage dismantle before his very eyes at such a young age took a toll. the thought of being destined to be with someone forever had been shattered the day his mother left, taking his sister with her. so yeah, it scared him. 

but you were just too stubborn.

falling in love with you never felt like he was falling, more like the two of you were coming together and creating something he thought he’d never be able to have. being friends first definitely helped but even when he felt his heartstrings tug a little too harshly anytime he was too close to you and felt the itch to bolt, you had managed to soothe them. comfort him so he wasn’t so afraid. he wanted to be there for you, wanted to be the guy he dreamed of being when he was little. that broken view of marriage slowly pieced itself back together the more you pushed past his walls and accepted him into your heart. 

and marrying you? the greatest day of his life. sure marriage wasn’t always a walk in the park, but with you, he would do anything to make it work. luckily, you felt the same exact way. 

lately, things have been tough for him. every morning he’d go to work and constantly get slammed with more tasks, more deadlines he needed to meet. frustration bit at him as he tried to carry on, keeping the well-placed smirk on his face to avoid any unnecessary conflict. his boss could be a real ass sometimes and he didn’t want to deal with more than he had to.

every day this week he had come home late, taken a shower, eaten whatever delicious meal you made, and laid down in bed. he missed you. and he knew you missed him but you didn’t fight him or call him out on his absence. instead, you were being so patient for him, so understanding and supportive. the thought almost brought tears to his eyes. all he wanted to be was the perfect husband, but work had placed too much on his shoulders for him to properly be there for you. 

guilt was gnawing at him more and more each day. he was so tired he could feel it in his bones, the heaviness pushing down on him with each step he made back home. all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep next to you, no matter what. he’s been tired of missing out on his precious moments with you and tried to push through his tiredness. to hold you close and be wrapped up in your love was more than he could ask for.

even though his day was cruddy, being greeted by you at the door had instantly lifted his spirits. the way you curl into him, holding him close. it takes everything in him not to completely slump onto you, folding into your warm embrace. so he settles for resting his cheek against your head, enveloping his arms around you and breathing you in. your presence always felt like home and coming back to it after a long day was the perfect remedy for settling his frayed emotions.

“long day?” you asked, rubbing circles along his back as he refused to let go. he could smell the food cooking in the kitchen – the all too familiar smell of his favorite mackerel being cooked had his heart swelling with love. he was so lucky.

so lucky to be loved by someone as thoughtful as you. never in a million years did he dream of finding someone that he would be comfortable enough to let them take care of him, but here he is, leaning onto you – literally.

“you have no idea.” he breathes, pulling back to get a proper look at you. you look so beautiful, so sweet. he didn’t even need to think as his body was so drawn to you, dipping down to press a soft kiss against your lips and lingering just long enough for the butterflies to flutter around his stomach. he pulls back with a smile, loosening his tie. “that what i think it is?”

“yup, made your favorite.” you beam up at him. he couldn’t help but reach down to plant another kiss.

“you’re the best, you know that?” pinching your cheek before offering a sweet kiss onto your forehead.

“duh. why else would you have married me?”

“ya got me there.” he laughs as he makes his way into the bedroom while you went back to finish cooking dinner. it only took him a minute to change into something comfier. 

he stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his tall frame leaning against the archway, admiring the view – watching as you tend to his favorite meal with so much care. again, how did he get so lucky?

he takes a few long steps and wraps his arms around you, tucking you in closer to him from behind. his warmth surrounds yours, soaking up as much as he can. 

“tetsu-“ you start as he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet perfume. he couldn’t help himself. it feels like it’s the first time he’s really held you in weeks. even if it was only 5 days.

“what?” he mumbles against your skin, a small smile stretching across his face.

“i’m cooking.” 

“’m helping.” his head raises up so he can smirk down at you. even though you can’t see him, you feel it there.

“oh really? is that what we’re calling it now?” he doesn’t offer a response but he laughs, the harsh sound tickling your ear. besides, you knew him well enough by now that all he wanted was to be in your presence so you decide against teasing him — for now.

it was welcomed though, seeing the smile on his face filled you with warmth, your own little ray of sunshine in your very own kitchen. even on his hardest days, he always manages to shine through. but it was hard not to when he had his own personal source of sunshine himself, your energy always soothing him. he wishes he could bottle it up and take it to work everyday. 

dinner goes by smoothly as you and kuroo catch each other up on the week you had. all the stress, all the headaches. he manages to crack a few jokes, trying to make light of the otherwise stressful situation. part of him feels bad because he sounds like a broken record but the other part feels good. good because he knows he could tell you anything and you’d never judge him, never think any less of him. 

even though it was only 8pm, all kuroo wanted to do was sleep. he knew it was friday and normally the two of you would go out on a date but as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t muster the energy.

so he settles for the next best thing: his head in your lap as you run your fingers through his hair. anytime you stopped to pick up the controller again, he couldn’t help but pout, rubbing his head up against yours hands anyway. his long legs stretch out and dangle off the end of the couch but he has never felt more comfortable. he was watching you play some new game that he had heard you and kenma talk about lately. 

nothing beat this. half of the time he wasn’t even watching the game, he was too caught up in watching you and your reaction. every so often, he could make out kenmas voice humming through the headphones, trying to give direction to your squadmates. it was even cuter when you’d join in, anger quickly washing over your features as your squadmates were obviously ignoring kenma. every scrunch of your nose followed by the dainty crinkle by your smiling eyes were far more interesting than whatever was happening on the screen.

“you’re my best friend, you know that?” he murmurs, slightly delirious from lack of sleep. he pokes at you to get your full attention, his finger sliding down your arm before he places it back on his chest. he hears the game music abruptly stop as you place the controller down to run your fingers through his hair once again.

“yeah?” you smile. you guys have been married for years but you still get butterflies every time he expresses how much you mean to him. especially when he was like this, sleepy with his voice being a few octaves deeper. nothing but adoration shines through his eyes as he looks up at you.

“yeah.” he smiles, fluttering his eyes closed as he surrenders under your touch. your fingers carded through his hair, messing it up further. his eyes bolt open as he jolts, “don’t tell kenma though. he doesn’t need to know i picked a favorite.”

“well, lets just hope he didn’t hear that then.” you can’t help but laugh at his seriousness. the lack of sleep has fully gotten to him and even though it was still way too early, you decide to say goodbye to kenma and turn off the game in favor of watching one of Kuroo’s favorite movies.

about 20 minutes in, you could hear his soft snores fill the room as he laid on your chest, fully content. old habits die hard and he couldn’t help but weasel his head against your chest.

being around you always fueled him up, recharged his strength so he could face each day with newfound strength. strength to be better for not only himself, but for you. someone you could be proud of, someone you could love endlessly.

[iheartmoons]

every year my school holds an optional writing competition and if you win you get money (cough which i won last year cough) and this year, i cryptically wrote marauders fanfiction and the school doesn't know 😭 but i'm genuinely proud of it, so i'm posting it here for yall to see! the prompt we had to go on was: be bold.

(by the way, i listened to "did you know there's a tunnel under ocean blvd" while writing this, if anyone cares)

Mary is broken, cracked and peeling and falling apart. Looking back, she thinks she was foolish to give up like that. She is still breathing, still living, still here to grieve. Is that a good thing?

All her friends have thrown themselves into war, thrashing and violent. That is what happens to kids. You breed them in a wartime, they will run from peace. Mary didn’t though.

Be bold. That is what her mother always told her. Be bold enough to take what you need, to run from pain. Her mother had told her that, sometimes, the boldest thing to do is to lay down your armour. That is what Mary did. She laid down her armour and begged for life.

Her friends did not understand her at the time, said that she was a coward to cower from war, but they are lost now. That is what happens with war. It sweeps away the kids, like a tide collecting the litter along shore, engulfing and perpetual.

She collects the mugs from her coffee table, moving slowly over to the sink and washing them. This is what happens after war. What then, after the blood and the grief and the stench of death, happens? What, when the rest must go home and carry on as though the soldiers are just old myths of the battlefield, happens? Do they grieve? Do they move on, keep living? Or, when war takes a soldier, does it take the village down too?

Stuck to the fridge, there is a year old post-it-note from Emma that tells her to pick up the balloons for a birthday party. How strange to see it now, when they are all gone. Their memory haunts her; they left themselves in abounding details, so ingrained in her that she can’t shake it. They stick like sand on her skin, or like the scent of rain after thunder has been driven out.

An ache caves inside her chest, carving her out until she is a bleeding mess. What does it mean to be bold? Does it mean to hurt, to do the bravest thing? Well, her friends are wrong. Her friends told her that the boldest thing was the fight for the right cause, but what do they mean by that? On either side, the leftovers must collect themselves, write eulogies for no-one who will listen, and live on in the resounding absence. When you have been preparing your whole life for war, listened to the missiles as they lull you to sleep, or listened to the ramblings of older men who point your moral compass, is it really bold to fight? Do you point your spears and learn the name of the person who you pierce? Would you kill them, really, if you knew?

Mary had begged at their feet not to leave her. She had promised that the bravest thing to do, when everyone screams their war cries, is to want to live on. It is hard to die for a cause you think is right. It is harder still to live through it.

On the news, the man calls their sacrifices ‘courageous’. They cheer for them, they wear black, they take two minutes, but what else? Do they stop the guns, or the bombs, or the deaths? Do they take down the posters before it is too late, before children are getting sucked into the glory of war?

Be bold, her mother tells her. On the other side of the room, she picks up the teddy bear, which is yet to be battered. It is brand new. She walks over to the bin and drops it in.

Be bold, except now she is bruised and broken. Except now, her friends have died and no longer have to hurt. It is a mercy, really. She selfishly wants to be them. Among the debris, she comes up burnt. She curses them in bed, curses them with every breath that she inhales and exhales. Every one is careful, knowing that they have none left. Staring up to her ceiling, she doesn’t hear their voices or get their calls. She held them funerals weeks ago, but no one came. She read out their eulogies, by the graveyard, in her loveliest black dress, and the only one to hear her was the woman by the grave opposite. The other woman didn’t care – she was too busy mourning. And who do they mourn? Do they mourn their friends, or the absence of them? Do they curse the violence of war, or the damage it leaves behind? Is it selfish? How can it be, she thinks to herself, bunching the duvet in her fists, there is no one else left to consider.

Perhaps putting down her weapons has done her more hurt than good. Perhaps, in the end, it was the futility of their anger, the burning inside them that had been extinguished by one mighty tidal wave, that frustrates her. In wartime, you must make rash decisions. They had ridiculed her for not taking the side of a leader they could barely trust. But that is it, isn’t it? In war, the only thing you can do is put blind faith in a person who might ruin you. You lay down at their feet and say: use me. That is what a soldier is. A weapon to throw across the battlefield, measuring just where they sink and thinking, oh well, we’ll do better next time.

Why does it go in circles? Why, when one generation has been lost in the hungry winds, will the next pick up their swords and fight the same battle?

Be bold, she will tell them, but they won’t listen. They will go in, hungry for violence and glory and flesh and blood. Sometimes, she thinks, when you are so ready for combat, the boldest thing to do is to let yourself cry.

[harry-writings]

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

-

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her. 

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

-

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

-

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

-

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

-

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

-

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

H?

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

[the-daily-multi-fandom-post]

May I have a Supernatural match up Please?  I'm 5'4 and have shoulder length blonde hair ( dyed )  with hazel eyes and wear big red glasses. I'm introverted and can usually be found playing video games or listening to music.

I'd say I'm pretty laid back and have a filthy/dark sense of humor. Not big fan of people yet I try to be polite, though come off as awkward and get easily flustered.

I have seven tattoos possibly more in the future. Short tempered and Sarcastic. Great listener, knows when to give others space when needed. Definitely a foodie, and empathic to a degree. ( Male Please ^^ )

Hi, I feel like you would match up pretty well with Castiel. Sorry I got this mixed up at first. I fixed it and I hope you like it.

Castiel x Reader

Castiel didn’t know that the two of you would be boyfriend and girlfriend when he first met you. Hell, he didn’t understand much about human relationships at all honestly.

I feel like you both understand each other not being able to connect with others around you. Him just being awkward not knowing how to socialize and you just not being a fan of a lot of people.

For a date night Castiel loves watching movies and hanging out with you.

You love laughing when Castiel doesn’t understand your dark humor. It would just be like, “Darling, I don’t understand. Why do you talk about such things in such a dark way.” And you just giggling cuz he doesn’t understand the joke.

Castiel doesn’t really consider you nerdy. He just thinks your are interested in your own little thing.

All I gotta say is imagine the late night home made pizzas you and Castiel would make together. The first time you had done that Castiel fell in love with your cooking. He definitely appreciates you more when you have food. 😂

Just imagine getting Castiel to help you dye your hair. Yall would be sitting up in your bathroom, in your apartment with the fan going and a window open trying to get the ammonia/chemical smell out the apartment.

Castiel would even dare let you dye his hair if you talk him into it. He would be hesitant about it, but he figured since you’ve dyed your hair and it looks good on you it must look good on him.

Castiel loves when the two of you are just laying in bed cuddling up together. He loves to trace your tattoos. He enjoys how humans express art on their bodies even though you have explained to cass that some people get tattoos for the hell of it.

But over all Castiel loves you. He loves how smart you are. He loves your blonde hair and hazel eyes. Castiel loves everything about you. He loves your flaws (which he says you don’t have any). He loves how you are always there for anyone who needs it. He loves how you sacrifice your time for your friends. He just loves everything about you!

(A/n): I hope you like this feel free to let me know how I can get better if you didn’t like it. Just please be nice. :)

[gubler-me-up]

Let it Rain (MGG Request)

Request: mgg smut request! you and matthew are having sex and he makes you squirt for the first time. at first you are embarrassed and go to apologize. matthew stops you and says you are going to keep do squirting until he says to stop. yall have rough sex and you end up squirting like 4 times. afterwards he is AMAZED by you even more than before. he tells you that his mission in life is to fuck you so good you squirt everytime.

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! Here I am once again posting requests in the A.M. hours omg i cannot with myself. If I hadn’t taken a nap this would have been published waaaaay earlier, so pls forgive my tardiness. Hope this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more from a smut ❤️ Happy reading!

Couple: MGG/Fem!reader

Category: Smut

Content warning: Swearing, rough sex, penetrative sex, overstimulation, squirting, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, slapping

Word count: 1.7k

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

A Saturday night inside spent with Matthew was your favourite way to spend the night. What made it even better was being in bed with him, cuddled up and making out. The best part was his hands caressing your leg up and down with a sense of need in his touch. You had your hand desperately clung around his neck to keep his head in place, so he wouldn’t dare part his lips from yours.

He turned you on your back. He continued to kiss you feverishly as his hands were up to no good. He slid his hand up your thigh and slipped his hands up the back of your shorts. He squeezed your ass which made you arch your back and free yourself from his lips as you let out a soft gasp. He went in to kiss your neck and you could feel his smile forming.

“Someone’s already excited,” he said.

“How could I not be?” You said.

He chuckled and removed his hand from your shorts. He leaned up from your neck, so he could look at your keen face. He licked his lips as you felt his hands slip under your shorts and pulled them off along with your drenched underwear. He tossed them aside and didn’t hesitate to feel just how wet you were. He glided his fingers up and down your folds as he watched your breathing become more urgent.

“You like when I do that?” He asked.

“I love it,” you said.

You then felt him stick his finger in you. You bit your lip as he slowly fingered you. He kissed you on the cheek before his lips found their way to your ear.

“How about that?” He asked

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Do you want another finger in you?” He asked.

“Yes, I do,” you said.

He stuck another finger in you. When he did his pace also increased. Your laboured breathing turned into deep moans. He grabbed your neck to pull you closer to your face. You looked at him and saw how wide his eyes were with a strong sense of yearning.

“Tell me you want a third finger in you,” he demanded.

“I want a third finger in me,” you said.

He gripped your neck tighter. “Beg for it.”

“Please, put a third finger in me,” you begged.

He stuck a third finger in you. You let out a yelp as he started to move his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion inside of you. He didn’t stop there though. He switched between doing that and taking a few seconds to pump in and out of you. You closed your eyes as you continued to moan at his fingers doing the most for you.

“You like that?” He asked.

“I fucking love it,” you squeaked.

As he started curling his fingers on your g-spot again, you felt yourself squirt. Your eyes shot open to see Matthew looking at your squirt come out of you. You stayed wide-eyed and silent as you had never squirted before. He took his fingers out of you and you could feel the overbearing feeling of embarrassment. He looked back at you with shock on his face which only worsened your embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry. I-”

He pulled your head closer to his face. He planted a rough, tongue heavy kiss on you before pulling your head back. He no longer looked shocked at you. He looked intrigued, almost crazy looking.

“You’re going to keep squirting until I say stop. Okay?” He said.

You nodded your head. “Okay.”

He let go of your neck, so he could take off your shirt. You weren’t wearing any form of bra because Matthew loved to play with your breasts in bed. As expected he grabbed them and touched them roughly to get a reaction from you. You tilted your head back and let out soft yelps.

He then changed his position by sliding his arm under you, so you were close against his body he went back to roughing up your breast as he leaned in to make out with you. He kissed you with such a hunger and need which drove you crazy. What drove you even more crazy was the touch of his fingers from his other hand vigorously circling your clit.

At a certain point you had to stop kissing him because you couldn’t contain your loud moans any longer. He took the opportunity to leave little bites along the side of your neck. You grabbed his upper arm and squeezed it tight trying your best not to squirt so soon again. Too bad for you your body had a mind of its own. You let out a huge gasp as you once again squirted all over Matthew’s hand.

He moved his hand from your clit and grabbed your jaw. He roughly jerked it to look at him. His eyes were dark with lust now. He leaned into your face enough for his lips to brush against yours but not touch.

“I felt you holding back. Don’t you dare fucking hold back again. Understand?” He asked.

He shook your head for you as you let out a small, weak ‘yes.’ He removed his hands from underneath your body and let go of your face. He took a pillow and lifted your legs, so he could stuff it right under your ass. He went in front of you. You looked up at him and watched anxiously as he stared down at you.

“Can you squirt a third time for me?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said.

He slapped your right breast before grabbing it roughly. You arched your back as you let out a shriek. You looked back up at him to see him smirking but quickly bit his lip to mask his excitement. He removed his hand from your breast to take off his boxers. When you saw his dick spring out, you felt your body temperature rise.

His hands grabbed the sides of your hips to inch you closer to his dick. You watched as he slowly slid it in you. You gasped and tilted your head back once it was all inside you. You don’t ever think you’d get over how much he filled you. As if the feeling of his dick wasn’t enough, he started to use his thumb to circle your clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

You peeping a word was motivation enough for him to go faster, harder and rougher on you. You could feel your legs shaking from the overstimulation he was enforcing on you. You reached your hand towards him as a weak attempt to slow him down. He immediately used his free hand to pin your arm down. He leaned into you, so he could be closer to your face as he continued to fuck you at his own pace.

“What did I say about holding back?” He asked.

“Not to do it,” you squeaked.

He slapped you on your cheek. “That’s fucking right. What aren’t you going to do again?”

“Hold back,” you squeaked.

He slapped you on your cheek again. “That’s fucking right.”

He then grabbed your neck to hold you still, so he could fuck you in peace. You couldn’t help keep your mouth agape as he toyed with your clit and fucked you relentlessly. He wasn’t looking at you anymore but was focused on watching to see when you were going to squirt. You didn’t have him waiting long because you squirted on him again. He looked back up at you amazed by the sight he just witnessed.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he said.

“I want to squirt for you a fourth time,” you said.

His eyes instantly lit up when you said that. He pulled you up by your neck to give you another mouthful of a kiss. He grabbed the back of your hair as he yanked you away from him. He panted heavily as he looked at you with those same crazy eyes.

“Tell me you want to squirt for me again,” he said.

“I want to squirt for you again,” you said.

He yanked your hair. “Again.”

“I want to fucking squirt for you again.”

He yanked  your hair. “Again.”

“I want to fucking squirt for you again.”

He yanked you down on the bed by your hair before turning you over onto your stomach. He grabbed onto your hips and jerked you back towards him. His dick instantly slipped into you as you let out a shriek from the feeling of him slamming into your overstimulated pussy. No surprise though, he used his hand to circle your pussy. He had found a nice, sure-fire way to get you to squirt fast.

You couldn’t even catch a proper breath as he did everything in his power to make you squirt. The way your legs were quivering with a tingling feeling running through your body made you believe he was going to get more than squirting from you.

He used his free hand to grab a bundle of your hair as he continued to pound into you. You could hear his cool, collected tone wear off as he was now breathing inconsistently. You could tell he was about to cum himself. You beat him to the chase as you let out a shriek as you squirted and came at the same time.

You heard Matthew gasp as you orgasmed, but you didn’t know whether it was from amazement at you or if he came himself. The way he was still fucking you though was answer enough. You weakly kept yourself balanced as you let him fuck you until he came.

You moaned as you felt him cum in you before he pulled out. As soon as he pulled out, you collapsed on the bed. You laid there with no ounce of strength left in your body. All the excitement and overstimulation had worn you completely out. It was worth it though to know Matthew was happy with the newfound talent you had.

He crawled onto of you, gently kissing your shoulder. You turned your head to the side to look at him. He had a huge smile on his face which made you smile back. He kissed you on your lips and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“I think my new mission in life is to fuck you so good you squirt every time,” he whispered.

“I’d love that,” you said.

-----

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection​, @slutforthegubes​, @pinkdiamond1016​, @spencerreidsthings​, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​, @slutforsr​

MASTERLIST

[itskatastrophe-x]

Finally Home (c!Sapnap x Reader)

I let my twitter followers decide who I wrote a oneshot for, and they wanted c!Sapnap, so here it is :) Written in the span of like... Idk 2 hours?? It’s a soulmate AU where you can feel everything your soulmate feels when you get in a certain distance of them and it gets stronger the closer you get to them. I hope yall like it!!

Word count :  2,701

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

There it was again. That burning sensation on the palms of your hands. You didn’t understand where it came from or why it was happening, but it hurt like hell. You wondered if it would ever stop, but you doubted it would. You knew the stories all too well but figured it would never happen to you, and slowly your fears confirmed it as all of your friends got theirs and eventually found their person. A soulmate. The way they talked about how they could feel what their soulmate felt on a physical level. They would feel light brushes against their arms or bumps when the other person would be somewhere busy. All of your friends had found their other halves years ago, explaining that when it happened there was a jolt like electricity in their bodies. After all of your friends had abandoned you, you had given up hope in ever finding your person. So you travelled. For miles and miles and miles, seeing every country, village, and kingdom your empty heart desired. You had lost everyone you loved and couldn’t even find your soulmate. 

Then it happened all too suddenly. If you had to guess, it happened when you got within range of the person, so you kept up your pace and travelled. It was an unpleasant sensation. It felt like fire all over your body. At first it was a small stinging, then the farther you travelled, the closer you got to this person, it grew. You would wake up in the middle of the night screaming because of cuts and wounds your other half would experience. You wished it was something as simple as the things your friends had gone through, but this was a nightmare. You wished you could meet this person once and for all just so you could give them a strong right hook to the jaw, then changed your mind as you remembered that you would also feel it. 

You knew by the things you were going through that this person was crazy and potentially dangerous with the amount of wounds this person was accumulating through the weeks of you travelling, so you did your best to be delicate. Whenever you would feel a new pain, you would prepare healing potions and drink them in hopes that the other person would also feel the effects. Either that or, if it didn’t feel like a gash or deep cut, you would trace your fingers over the spot gently to sooth the other person to let them know you would comfort them. What you couldn’t stand, though, was the feeling of fire dancing around your fingers. You eventually learned to tune it out and numb yourself to it, so it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was when it started, but it was still painful and annoying.

Then it stopped as suddenly as it started. For three whole days. Three. Days. After the first couple hours of the first day you started to worry. It was rare that you got a single second of rest from this crazy asshole, but three days? Part of you hoped he wasn’t dead, but the other part was happy you didn’t have to deal with scratches, bruises, and burning. But you missed it so much that you wished the burning in your palms returned. Nothing stopped you from continuing on though, even though you had no idea if you were going the right way anymore or not. You used the pain as a guide for weeks to lead you closer, but when it stopped, you lost your physical compass. Something in your heart told you that you were still heading towards them though, so you kept on, this time faster and without much sleep. You wanted to make sure this person was ok, and fast. You watched all of your friends leave you, you couldn’t have your literal soulmate leave you as well. 

When the third day ended and you were about to fall asleep, you felt it. The smallest little touch to your cheek you had ever felt. It was out of the blue and you had never felt such a touch come from the other person, so it woke you up instantly. You laid there for a moment, the stroking on your cheek so soft and faint that you wondered if it was even the person at all. Slowly, you lifted your hand to your other cheek and caressed it. The feeling on your other cheek stopped, but the feeling of a hand still stayed there. That’s when you knew it was them. They knew you would feel it, but probably weren’t expecting you to return the feeling to them. The stroking started again, so you stroked your other cheek for them as well. Then it hit you. Why had you never thought of it before? After weeks of knowing you had a soulmate out there, it just now hit you. You sat up from your bed in the little hotel you were staying at and tapped your leg. The feeling on your cheek stopped then you felt the same tap on your leg again. You smiled and pressed your hand down for a second and felt more pressure a couple seconds later. 

Then you started. At first it was a smiley face, then letters one at a time to write to the person. You asked their age first. Then you felt the pressure of the person writing back. “20”. You drew yours back, then they drew a smile to confirm they got it. You asked their name. “Nick” they wrote back. Then you wrote yours. You got as much information as you could from this small communication as possible so you could find him easier. After your small exchange, you got up, got dressed, packed your things and headed towards a location called “Dream SMP”. You had seen it on maps before, but it was so far away that you thought you would never get there. You had already crossed oceans, rivers, and mountains for this man, but now you had a new fire to feel. A fire burning so deep in you that it ignited in your eyes. You used all the money and resources you had to get there. You bought boats and horses for the days leading up to your arrival.

After over a month of travelling, you finally made it to the outside borders of what was known as the DreamSMP. The streets were full and bustling with life. Most people smiled and greeted you as a new member, fully accepting you the second you set foot on the land, others scowled or threw hateful words your way, possibly thinking you wouldn’t hear, or maybe they hoped you would so you would leave. You asked around about this person “Nick” and got an overwhelming response of happy chatter and protests of anger, so you left as politely as you could to search on your own. 

You felt like it would take forever to find this other person if all of the streets and businesses would be this crowded and overwhelming, until you came across one man standing at the edge of a river with his eyes closed and a smile on his face. His fluffy brown hair flipped up in the front and slightly waved in the breeze, the colors he wore matching his vibe completely. You approached him cautiously at first, but felt comforted by the aura he gave off. You cleared your throat quietly, so as not to startle him, and he opened his eyes slowly to greet you, the lightest shade of blue you had ever seen. He gave you a soft smile and waved you over, so you complied. 

For a second, you wondered if this was him, but you took note of his soft, clear looking skin and the lack of electricity as you neared him. When you got next to him, he pointed across the river to a very ornate village sitting on the hills surrounded by flower forests. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” You stared in awe at the mushroom buildings and statue and smiled at him. “I’ve travelled a long way to get here and passed hundreds of kingdoms, but this tops them all,” you replied. He made a noise of agreement and smiled, content with your answer. “Well, tell me, new face, how did you make your way to Kinoko Kingdom, and why are you here?” There was no malice in his voice as he asked and you could tell he was being friendly so you knew you wasn’t being standoffish. “I came to meet my soulmate,” you answered. His eyes went wide and met yours, a look of shock on his face. “Th-that’s you?!” You looked at him, furrowing your brows. How did he know? As if to read your mind, he continued. “I knew he was expecting someone, but, wow… I mean… He’s gonna want to meet you now. He literally hasn’t shut up for weeks about you.” You stammered for a second as he grabbed your hand and started running, barely giving you any reaction time to keep up with him. He was fast and energetic and you liked it. He seemed friendly and bubbly and his touch was comforting. 

He weaved in and out of streets and occasional bystanders watching the two of you with wide eyes and gaping mouths. You took it these people didn’t see many new faces, seeing as they were small in numbers. He didn’t slow down until both of you were panting in front of a giant cherry blossom tree in front of the biggest library you had seen. You could hear a loud voice echoing out of the open hole, acting as a doorway. The man next to you put a hand on your shoulder and you looked over at his grinning face. “I should explain before you get in there… My name is Karl and Sapnap, or Nick, is my fiancé. Now before you get worried, we’re in an open, poly relationship and he’s talked to me about all of this and I am 100% welcoming you into our little family.” He gave you a warm smile that reached his eyes so you knew he was being sincere. 

A booming shout broke your thoughts and you felt a pain in your toe that almost made you fall over, then loud laughter erupted. You smiled and shook off your foot as Karl motioned you inside, and that’s all you needed to run inside. The space inside was open with books lining the high walls. There was a staircase to your right, a mushroom in the far back, and a balcony above your head. There you saw him. At first he stood there laughing with the other man in front of him, not realizing you were inside, so you stared. You felt something like fire dancing across your skin lightly as you watched him with wide eyes. He was more beautiful than anyone you had ever seen. He had his jet black hair tied into a messy, low bun at the back of his head, a scar across the length of his face that went across the bridge of his nose. He had a light dusting of freckles across his rosy cheeks and the most piercing eyes. The man in front of him caught onto your stare and nudged the man, pointing down at you from their spot on the balcony. When his eyes met yours, a shiver went up your spine and your skin felt hot, like you were now encased in a cocoon of fire. For a moment you both just stared at each other, not being able to move, until you felt a pair of hands push you gently from behind.

That’s all it took to move you. You took off towards the stairs and took them two at a time as he ran to meet you on the landing. You collided into the biggest hug that knocked the wind out of your lungs and almost sent you flying backwards, but he kept you steady. Your eyes welled up for a moment and you laughed into his chest. He smelled like a campfire, fir trees, and old books. He was so warm and your body fit his so perfectly under his arms. You heard footsteps coming up the stairs and a soft touch to your shoulder, a small hum coming from Karl behind you. “Thank god you’re finally here. Sapnap literally would not shut up. He always talked about how soft you were with him when he knew how hard it must have been for you. Weeks. Weeks.” Sapnap reached an arm out to punch Karl, but he dodged easily since Sapnap still hadn’t let you go. You chuckled and closed his eyes as he put his arm back over your shoulder and squeezed you closer to him. 

“I can’t believe you’re real,” he whispered into your hair. He squeezed him and smiled. “You thought I wasn’t?” He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “I thought you would hate me. I’m so reckless and get hurt all the time. How could anyone want me if they feel what I feel?” You pulled back to look him in the eyes and you gave him the most genuine smile you had ever had on your face. “You’re stupid. Of course I would be here. And I will stay here. I’ll take care of all your bumps, scrapes, and stabs. The pain means nothing so long as I know you’re ok.” His pointed ears turn a bright red and he averts his gaze to the floor, so you bring your hand to his cheek gently. At first he flinches, but soon closes his eyes, sighs, and leans into your hand, his lip slightly quivering from such tenderness. 

“I do have one question, though.” He hums, not opening his eyes. “Why do my palms always burn? Do you just, like, constantly sit around a campfire?” He chuckles and slowly lifts his head, eyes opening to look at you. He pulls back from you slightly, keeping one arm around your waist as he watches his hand, then back to your face to watch your eyes on his hand. In an instant, his hand is surrounded by fire, the burning in your hand starting up. He must have liked the look on your face because he lets out a snort and then starts laughing, all while you stand there in awe at the power he held. “Holy shit… And… And that’s real fire? Just like that?” You look back at him and he gives you a shy smile and a nod of his head as the fire goes out. There was a sparkle in your eyes that he was absolutely enchanted by and he hoped he would get to see that for the rest of his life. You let out a small huff of amazement and smile brightly. “You are the most amazing person I have ever met,” you say quietly as you watch his features soften as he’s left speechless. 

“Oh get a room,” the guy behind Sapnap says, his voice thick with an accent and sarcasm, the sound of a smile in his words. Sapnap looks at the man and points at him, shooting off a mini fire at him. His shirt catches for a second before the man screams and smacks himself to put it out. You laugh as you watch the exchange and Sapnap looks back at you, thinking of how beautiful your laugh sounds. “Well,” Karl starts. “We have a lot to talk about! Ooooooh this is so exciting! We need to know more about you!!” He grabs both of you and pulls you down the stairs and out to the pond next to the tree out front, the sun finally setting over the hills, casting a gorgeous, fiery glow on your soulmate’s features. You couldn’t wait to see what their life was like. To kiss all of his scars and tell him how amazing he was. To run your fingers through his raven feather-looking hair. Oh how you loved this.

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 4 (Rowaelin)

THANK YALL FOR BEING PATIENT I AM SO SORRY

Parts 1 \ 2 \ 3

________________________________

Journal Entry #2000

Sometimes I think it wouldn't be so bad to die.

To leave this island forever and not have to worry about being discovered anymore.

I wasn't always this macabre, but two thousand days of checking over my shoulder and wishing for a man's murder has dulled the wishful excitement I felt when I first got here.

Five years ago, I was grateful to even be alive.

I couldn't believe a stranger give up everything for me and the others--couldn't believe she'd agree to fight this battle because of my decision.

I have to actually remind myself to still be grateful to her, if I'm being honest.

Because sometimes I think about that night all those years ago, when she showed up in the darkest part of the night to kill me. When she'd held the knife with a trembling hand and told me that the price for betraying Arobynn Hamel was my life. When we discovered together that she couldn't bring herself to kill me.

Sometimes I think it would be better if she would've just done it.

At least it would've been over.

At least I wouldn't have to spend years on an island, living the same day over and over again. I think that's what's driving me mad, beyond anything else.

The predictability of my time.

Every day, I follow the same routine. The routine she laid out for me in a hushed whisper.

I wake up and go to the small café a mile down the road to watch the news. And every day, I pray to see Arobynn Hamel's face next to to the words, "Breaking news: billionaire crime boss found dead."

Because that was her only stipulation.

That the ten of us would stay on the island, hidden from sight, until news of his death was announced. In exchange, we got to live.

She'd warned me it would take a long time.

She'd told me to not get complacent.

And then she'd whispered what she planned to do.

Even now, over five years later, the words she'd whispered while shoving a plane ticket and a new passport into my hands were crystal clear.

"The devil isn't going to go down easy."

~Aelin~

The shaft of her recently-fashioned shiv was cold in her hand as she silently grabbed it from under her pillow.

The soft clink of the bars shutting again told her whoever had just snuck in her cell was now locked in with her.

Unfortunate for them.

She wasn't afforded the luxury of a clock, but she knew it was the middle of the night. Normal visiting hours were far over. There was no one here but the bored night guards, four janitorial staff, and rows and rows of sleeping inmates.

And the idiot trying to sneak up behind her bed.

She kept her eyes closed as she listened to the quiet steps walk closer and closer. Right when she was about to turn around and attack, they stopped.

Then the weirdest thing happened. It sounded like whoever it was slid down the wall directly across from her bed.

A killer wouldn't do that.

Curiosity piqued, Aelin turned her head to see who and what was going on.

It was dark in the cell, but she'd recognize that shock of silver hair anywhere.

"Rowan?" she whispered, so quietly she almost didn't even hear herself. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't respond, but the way his muscles tensed told her he'd heard her.

Slowly, she sat up so she could see him better and maybe figure out what was going on.

For the first time in a long time, he looked less than perfect. Far less than it, actually.

His hair was going every possible direction, like he'd been running hands through it and pulling on it. He was wearing a gray t-shirt, rumpled dress slacks, and tennishoes that weren't even tied.

But that wasn't what worried her most. It was the way he was sitting completely still and silent.

He didn't even look like he was breathing.

"Hey," she tried again. "What's going on? Look at me."

Another few heartbeats passed, and then he slowly shook his head.

"Please, Rowan. Just look at me."

He winced, like hearing her say his name physically hurt him.

And then his head came up.

Deep green eyes met hers, and even though it was what she'd wanted, what she'd needed, Aelin instantly wished he'd look away.

Because with one look, she knew he'd figured it out.

He knew, and the pain and turmoil in his eyes... she'd put that there.

She'd seen him angry and sad and happy and everything in between, but she'd never seen him, or anyone else, look so broken.

He looked completely and utterly broken as he sat before her.

"Rowan," she whispered, shaking her head even though she didn't know why.

He bowed his head again, seemingly unable to even look at her.

"Ro," she whispered, dropping to her knees in front of him.

Almost like the old nickname broke something inside him, Rowan's shoulders started to shake.

And then he sobbed.

It was the kind of sob that couldn't possibly be held in. The kind that made her heart clench and tears brew in her own eyes, the kind that told her how much pain he was in.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she put a hand on his arm. He shook off the touch like it burned him and looked up at her again.

"I ruined your life," he croaked, the tears on his face reeking of self-hatred. "I ruined your life."

She shook her head. "No, you didn't."

Anger bled into his tone. "I put you in prison for eight years for murdering people who aren't even fucking dead, Aelin. I didn't listen to you, didn't look hard enough. I've had the clues you left me for eight years. We were in love, and I didn't even try hard enough to... I... please explain to me how I didn't ruin your life."

"You did not ruin my life, Rowan," she told him again, meaning every word.

"Eight years of your life, gone because of me. I don't even understand how you can look at me." He huffed a laugh, but he was far from amused. "No wonder you hate me."

His chest was heaving, his hands were in fists, and his stubble-crested jaw was damp with tears.

And she'd thought he hadn't cared.

Aelin felt like a fool--a horrible, stupid fool--for ever doubting him. For thinking him indignant.

Because this was technically what she'd wanted. What she'd planned to happen.

She'd wanted it to hurt, had wanted him to feel an ounce of what she'd felt when he'd led the case against her.

But it wasn't what she wanted anymore.

Moving slowly, Aelin crawled onto his lap, put her hands on the side of his face, and lifted his gaze to hers while she said, "Arobynn Hamel ruined my life, not you."

He shook his head, breathing heavily. "No-"

She cut him off by wrapping herself around him.

Like she was trying to heal physical wounds, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head to her chest. She sank into him until there wasn't an inch of space between them. Her hands wandered over his back as she held him tight to her.

He was stiffer than a board at first, but eventually he sagged against her, wrapping his arms around her in return.

It was like he was drowning in the sea, and she was the only thing preventing him from being swept away. He shook, his entire body trembling, and his arms became a vice around her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered after a moment.

She shook her head, but it didn't matter. He said it again, and again, and again, until his voice was hoarse and broken.

Aelin ran her hands over his back slowly, and just held him as pain he'd felt for eight years seemed to reach a crest.

Eventually he stopped crying and just laid against her, warm breath fanning across her collarbone.

"I'm so sorry, Aelin," he whispered yet again.

"Please stop saying that. None of this is your fault. You aren't the reason I'm in prison."

"Yes, I am," he insisted, shifting beneath her. "But I'm getting you out right now."

He looked up, eyes bright with new-found purpose, and wiped the tears off his cheeks like they were distracting him.

"What?"

He nodded quickly. "We can bring those people back, and you can get your life back. I know it's not the same, and I know I can't get you these years back, but-"

"No."

He paused. "No?"

She shook her head. "I can't leave yet."

"Leave? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I still have shit to do here. I'm not leaving before it's done."

His eyes narrowed. "You're acting like this is a hotel, not a high-security prison. And what do you even mean?"

Aelin had the good sense to feel a little guilty as she slowly got to her feet and walked to the wall at the back of the cell. A few well-placed taps later, it swung open.

Rowan's mouth dropped open, then closed, then repeated the whole routine like he couldn't decide what to say first.

He apparently figured it out, because it opened again so he accuse, "I knew you were robbing me! Where the fuck is my bed?"

She sighed and rubbed her temples. "That's what you care about right now? Seriously?"

He grumbled something as he got to his feet and leaned into the makeshift doorway in the wall.

It took him a few moments to examine the ladder leading down to the tunnel, and then he straightened and looked at her again with a mixture of confusion, awe, and understanding on his face.

"You've been sneaking out this whole time."

She nodded.

Most of her escapes had been in the past six months, but she'd occasionally left in the years before to check on something or track down a lead.

"You beat up your roommate so they'd put you back in solitary."

Aelin nodded again.

"But how did you know they'd bring you to this cell?"

A small smile pulled on her lips. "Look again," she told him, gesturing towards the open brick door.

He stuck his head in the hole again and couldn't stifle his surprised intake of breath as he saw the other ladders.

He came back in the cell, and the expression on his face made her bite her lip to hold back a smile. "You... you tunneled into prison?"

"Into every solitary cell," she confirmed.

"When? Why?"

"One of my old jobs for Arobynn was to break a client of his out of solitary. I knew which cell he was in, but... getting locked up is kind of a right of passage for my former career, so I figured I'd plan ahead and give myself a way out, should I ever need it." She smiled. "Hamel never could figure out how I did it, so it's safe for me to use now."

Rowan spent a long moment looking at her. "That's... genius."

"I tend to be," she agreed.

They were both silent for a minute, then he said, "You need to tell me everything. Enough of both of us wasting time assuming what the other is thinking. We need to get everything out in the open, and we need to do it now."

Aelin nodded, knowing it was true.

It was time to either finally trust him or kill him, and just the thought of the latter made something inside of her twist so hard she felt nauseous.

She nodded to the tunnel, not wanting to have the following conversation overheard by any prying ears. He nodded and followed her down, closing the door behind him.

When she knew they were alone, she started to explain.

"Maddison Kliff, my first so-called victim, funded her campaign for senator with money from Arobynn Hamel."

Rowan's eyebrows went up in surprise, but he nodded for her continue.

"He gave it to her, with the caveat that when she won, she'd vote against renewable energy for Rifthold. He has millions in oil, so when she did the exact opposite and voted for the green plan that switched the city to 70% electric, he took a pretty hard hit." She took a deep breath. "The day after the vote, I got my orders to kill her."

His jaw clenched.

"I went that night, thinking I could do it. Thinking I'd get it over with and never think about it again. I snuck in her townhouse and had everything set up." She let out a laugh. "But then I realized my deal with Arobynn covered ten of Sam's jobs. If I killed Maddison, and did a good enough job of it to get away with it, I knew he'd put nine more names on the list."

"So you didn't do it," Rowan said, like he already knew but needed to hear her say it.

"So I didn't do it."

Aelin ran a hand through her hair, starting to pace. "I ran. And then I went back the next night with a suitcase, a new ID for her, and a plan."

"Why Aruba?" he asked.

"I'd done all that research for our trip," she said, a pang of sadness shooting through her at the memory of planning their first vacation together. "I didn't have time to research another place. And I never told you, but the house I wanted us to rent? You kind of... own it."

"I own a house in Aruba," he repeated slowly, his tone making it clear he didn't understand.

She rolled her eyes at his tone. "Arobynn might be a bastard I'd love to put in a grave, but he paid me well. I was eighteen and didn't know what else to do with the money. So I bought a house."

"In Aruba. In my name."

She nodded. "No one can trace it back to you. It's hidden in an off-shore corporation, owed by another off-shore corporation, but technically, yes, you're the owner. It was going to be your Christmas present."

"You bought me a house," his lips twitched. "For a Christmas present."

"I was in love with you," she muttered. Then pointed out, "My lack of shopping impulse control really isn't the point of the story."

He rolled his eyes, still fighting a grin at her antics. "Please continue."

"Right. So I sent her to the house in Aruba and told her to stay at the house with anyone else he wanted me to kill. I told her to not say a word to anyone besides those people, and that I'd be forced to actually kill her if she did. If Arobynn finds out they're alive, he'll send someone for me."

She explained the list next. "He requires proof of all completed jobs, so I kept the "murder weapons" and made sure the crime scenes had enough blood to indicate the person couldn't still be alive. It was mostly fake, but I took just enough blood from each of the victims and mixed it in to make it realistic enough to fool DNA scanners. Then I put the weapons in storage lockers he owns and wrote the numbers down so I wouldn't forget them."

Rowan nodded, most certainly remembering that part.

He was doing a good job of hiding his emotions, but she still saw how heavily this all weighed on him.

Everything he'd been feeling for eight years was hitting him at once, and while explanation made sense, it probably didn't make him feel any better about the role he'd played in all of this.

He confirmed it by asking, "Why didn't you tell me?"

He asked it almost casually, but she didn't miss the pain he couldn't keep from seeping into his voice.

"I wanted to," she breathed. "Gods, I wanted to. I know now you investigated before giving the list to the cops, but to me, it looked like you found it and just turned me in. You never asked me. And you looked at me... you looked at me like you thought I was guilty. I knew you wouldn't believe me."

Rowan went quiet, regret and shame coming off of him in waves so thick she almost choked on it.

"How is all of this going to play out?" he asked, seemingly trying to force himself to think about something else. "And what do you have to do that you need to be in prison for?"

She hesitated, suddenly not wanting to tell him.

Not out of a lack of trust, but because if she told him... he'd realize she's guilty of the crime she's in prison for. He might go back to hating her, back to thinking her a horrible person.

And she just got him back.

She's pulled from her thoughts when he reaches a hand out, slowly gripping her jaw to tilt her face to his.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, the words final.

Of course he knew what she was thinking just from looking at her face. He always was a little too astute.

A part of Aelin wanted to put on a brave face and act like that wasn't exactly what she'd been worrying about, but a bigger part wanted him. Wanted him to see that even after all this time, she needed him.

So she forced down the witty jokes and sultry smiles she usually used as ways to hide her vulnerability and looked up at him.

"Promise?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "I promise, Aelin."

His hand was still on her face, and he leaned in until his forehead rested against hers. "I'm never going to leave you again. I'm so... I'm so fucking sorry I did in the first place. I should've come to you, or at least listened when you told me you were innocent."

"I'm sorry I thought you didn't fight for me," she said back. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

They'd both done things they regretted, but Aelin knew that now, no matter what, he was telling the truth. He wasn't going to leave her.

The knowledge felt like a weight lifting off her shoulders, and just to lighten the mood, she whispered, "And I'm sorry I stole your bed."

He pulled back to glare at her. "You're going to explain one day how you even pulled that off. But I'd like the answer to my other question first."

Aelin took a step back and ran a hand through her hair.

"Arobynn Hamel dying is the endgame, Rowan. I have to stay in prison so I can kill him and have an alibi no one will question."

He paused, and for a moment, her fears skyrocketed, so she rushed to explain, "As long as he's alive, those people have to be in hiding and I have to look like I killed them. Once he's dead, I can bring them back without worrying Arobynn will kill them. Or me."

He gave her a strange look, but she spoke before he could, explaining, "It's why I've been in prison for so long. I would've killed him and ended it years ago, but I only found him a couple months ago. He's been in hiding ever since I was locked up, because the FBI knew I was one of his and started looking for him."

"Okay, but Aelin-"

She cut him off. "I know it's insane and not at all ideal, but I need you to leave me in here. Just until he's dead, and then it's over."

He stepped forward and grabs her shoulders, shaking her slightly.

And then he did the weirdest thing.

He smiled.

"What the hell do you look happy about?" she demanded. "I'm being serious-"

It was his turn to interrupt her. "Aelin, if that's the stipulation, you're already free."

Unease drifted through her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's already dead."

Shock rushed through her so fast and thoroughly, her vision swam and she swayed in his grip. "What... what did you just say?"

"That's why I came today, now. I actually figured out you were innocent two days ago, but I wasn't going to come until I could tell you with certainty I was getting you out, and I knew you couldn't bring everyone back without risking your life. I've spent the past 48 hours planning a jailbreak and a way to sneak you to somewhere the US doesn't have extradition."

He grinned again. "But then it was announced on the 11 o'clock news tonight that he died last week of pneumonia complications. His family kept it private because they wanted a small funeral, but he's dead, Aelin."

Still feeling the weight of shock, she argued, "He's not dead."

"But he is."

"No," she insisted, pushing away from him and starting to pace again. "He can't be dead."

His face softened at the panic in her voice. "Aelin, I know you wanted it to be you, but-"

"No, Rowan, you don't understand. I mean he cannot physically be dead, because I haven't finished killing him!"

It was his turn to be shocked.

"What do you mean you haven't finished killing him?"

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. "I've been poisoning him since the day I figured out where he holes up. Turns out he has kidney problems and goes in once a week for dialysis. I show up and add a little... extra to his medication. The last time I went was less than a week ago, and while he might have been sick, he most definitely was still alive."

Besides that, what were the odds that Rowan figured out her "victims" were still alive, and just two days later Arobynn croaks?

It would be one hell of a coincidence, and Aelin learned long ago to not believe in those.

His eyes went wide. "What? You mean he faked his death? Why the hell would he do that?"

"Because," she said slowly, dread forming like a lead ball in her stomach as she realized what this meant for her, for the ten people whose lives she'd traded her freedom for. "I told Maddison and the others to wait for news of his death before coming back. I told them that until he was dead, they weren't safe."

She shook her head, whispering, "I told them to watch the news."

Rowan realized what she was saying and cursed.

"He knows."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lemme know in the comments if you want to be tagged!

Part 5 will (realistically) be out in the next three weeks. Sorry for the slow updates; school is consuming all my time and energy.

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[thirsty-albedo-main]

As the Seasons Come and Go

Kazuha x Reader

Word count: 4000

Tags: Fiends to lovers, GN!Reader, Kazuha tops, Tears, Penetrative sex, Mutual Masturbation, One sided romance, Porn with plot, Porn with feelings

 Kazuha has come and gone from your teapot multiple times now. For years you have developed your feelings from strangers to the closest of friends. Now you have become completely smitten with him. But he only arrives in the peak of summer and winter, when the sun and wind are at their harshest. [Movie trailer voice] And this summer, you’ll gather up the courage to ask “Will you lay with me for the night?”

 O h god this is 4000 words long u m porn with plot and feelings I guess??? Please forgive me yall.

Time and time again you find yourself watching him leave the small abode you have offered to be his sanctuary in times of hardship. Like the changing of seasons, he comes and goes from the teapot you call home, searching and wandering the landscape in hopes of finding a way to stir the masterless vision he carries from it’s deep slumber. He is inherently mysterious in his eloquence and fleeting in his presence, the act of talking with him always leaving you feeling as if a fresh breeze had come to bring your mind to attention. A wandering samurai who you happened to bump paths with on a dreary summers night has embraced your heart with both gentle winds and words. His smile is euphoric, his sadness earth shattering, and his lingering touches on your shoulders or hands before he bids you farewell yet again like fire starters in your mind and body.

“You have to go already?” you gently asked as he began putting his humble array of belongings into the small pack he carried. “Yes. The scorching sun has calmed its burning gaze for now. Since it is beginning to cool, I must travel while I still can.” His face and hair are brightened in their shade by the light of the sun as you gaze upon his form slowly peeling itself from the grassy bed he was laying in. “Can I expect a visit sooner rather than later? It IS getting pretty hot out there.” You smiled lazily as you always did while napping beside him, concealing the hope woven into your question with the playful tone you reserved for your best friend. “We’ll have to see how merciful this whimsical summer will be. I find myself in cooler nights as of late, so at least there is solace in fall coming soon.” The smile he gave you was not unlike the warm one would feel when stretching out on a sun kissed rock.

“I’ll prepare a bed and some food for you when that time comes then” You replied as your closed your eyes. You pretended to still be sleepy, but in truth, you couldn’t bear to see his back retreating from your sight.

“Thank you. Surely we will cross paths again.” was the hope he voiced.

Those words burned a hole in your heart with the same intensity as the summer heat you found yourself traveling in. Your entire being had ached at the thought of seeing him arrive in the abode you had called home again. You know that someone such as Kazuha couldn’t be restrained from the desire to roam that laid heavy in his soul. It would be wrong of you to commit the sin of tying him down when he had the desire to see new people, experience new things, and further his understanding of the beautiful world he has found himself in.

Yet the way his words held your attention, the way his voice brought solace to you, the way his body would bring you lust, all of it made you hope for more of him and his presence, his being. You would sometimes, under the influence of intense lust and unbearable longing, find yourself running your hands along your body in an effort to satiate your growing need. You mimicked his mannerisms with your hands, how he would run a palm along the small of your back while you stumbled in your climbing, the gentle curl of his fingers as he would run a hand through your hair while you would bare to him your feelings and thoughts, and how his grip felt when he held your hand for a tad longer than necessary while bidding your farewell. With the knowledge of what he does to you potent and heavy in your mind, you finally brought about the resolve needed to tell him how you felt. All of your feelings for him would come to light the next time he allowed himself to enter your domain. This was a promise you made for yourself, as selfish as it may be, you’re ready to accept whatever answer he will give.

- - -

The rain was beating heavily on your form as you wandered down the muddy path that stretched on for miles. The rain was comforting when you found yourself in the safety of a home, far from any of the damaging effects of excessive cold or water, but when you were caught out in the rain like this it only became a source of discomfort. You have forced yourself to continue on through the stormy night until you could find a suitable place to camp, that would be the only way you got proper sleep tonight you decided.. The clouds hung heavy overhead and visibility was proving difficult due to the combination of darkness and rain, yet after squinting into the distance for awhile, you finally discovered some hope for your situation. A light beaming in the darkness. A light from a home? A traveler’s camp? Anything would be fine so long as you were released from the sticky grip of the heavy rain.

Your mind was filled with conflicting thoughts as you saw where the light had come from. The rain was heavy and dreary, yet your heart felt light upon seeing a familiar samurai squatting near a small oil lamp, trying his best to put together a makeshift shelter with local branches and foliage. “Kazuha!” you called out despite the rain attempting to overpower your voice. He raised his head to look in your direction, his keep hearing coming in handy during the onslaught of noise, and he smiled when his eyes had met with yours. For a moment you had felt your face warm up despite it being cold mere moments ago. “You look drenched!” He replies to your call with mirth in his voice “The tempest has forgo its’ kindness for the both of us I see. Here, let me find a secluded spot for us, if you don’t mind me asking for shelter in return that is.”

You didn’t mind at all.

- - -

You two finally found a spot safe enough for you to bring out your teapot. With no hesitation, you found yourself welcoming Kazhua inside to dry off and relax for the rest of the night with you. The rain followed into your teapot of course, but it was a kinder rendition of the noisy forest and harsh clouds that you had just escaped. A small drizzle lingered in the air to cool landscape and the skin, its’ presence heavenly in comparison to beating rain and howling winds. Your abode was a small one. A modest bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen was all that a traveler like you needed. It was simple and having a place of your own to weather out the harsh conditions was more than enough to satisfy your basic needs. Kazuha came in by your side and the two of you laughed lightly at the urgency you two had shown previously, rain sticking wet hair to your faces and necks as reminders of what has passed. “Go ahead into the bathroom and get those wet clothes off” you stated to your travel companion as you shrugged off your cloak and hung it up on the porch. “I’ll get the fireplace ready.” Kazuha took a moment to smile with a distant glimmer in his eye at you, not moving from the spot he was in in favor of keeping an eye on you. “What?” you goaded with a smile.

“It just reminds me of when we first met. You said that to me then too, all those seasons ago.” And feeling happy with his statement, he finally wandered his way into your bathroom to change, leaving you stunned.

Archons you felt as if your heart was going to burst.

Clothes were now hanging on the backs of chairs, placed in proximity of the fireplace and it’s warmth, enough to dry but not enough to catch fire. Plates were on a small drying rack after a meal for two was prepared, the light dripping of water from their forms akin to the rain seeping off you and your companion when you entered earlier this evening. Warm and soft clothes encompass your form in a reassuring manner, reminding you that you were safe and sound, that you were home. It also reminded you that a piece of the outside world was here with you in the form of your friend Kazuha. He stretched out next to you on your floor near the fireplace, undoing his ever crooked ponytail as if to reinforce your point. It was almost like this was meant to happen, that he was meant to lay here. With you.. You had to suck in a breath of air as you realized how domestic all of this was.

Kazuha looks to you for a moment with soothing worry and slight curiosity in his eyes at your sudden intake of breath. “Something wrong? You didn’t get hurt in the rain did you?” The way his eyes light up in concern reminds you of your own fears regarding the situation you two are in, that all of this will end soon. Summer is reaching its’ ending and winter seems so impossibly out of your reach, an unrealistic time to wait before you see him again. He reaches a cruel hand to your face and takes your cheek into his palm with a tenderness that makes the burning in your skin unbearable. “What ails you, my friend? I hear your heart beating so much harder than normal.” The thread of self restraint snaps and curls its’ fibers within your being as you reach out to take his face in your hands. Your nose brushes against his own as you shift closer to him. As you slowly and carefully take his lips with your own. It is a chaste kiss that leaves as many feelings you can manifest on the corner of his lips. His eyes are wide with shock as you pull away, your face coming back into his vision red and shameful as you voice your desires.

“You’re going to be leaving soon. All of the leaves of fall will be behind us, rotting under layers of snow by the time that you and I get to meet again. Please.” You fist your hands into his cotton shirt, your vain attempt of keeping yourself composed now that the words are spilling out. “Lay with me at least once before you go-” His lips coming to take yours interrupts the pleading request you had for him. Euphoria washes over your body at the returned contact, your skin aches at the way his hands come to hold your face, how he lingers there as if he were searching for the warmth of your emotions with his fingertips alone. The kiss between the two of you rising like summers heat as you loop an arm around his shoulders, deepening this bliss by closing the proximity. His tongue comes to lick the inside of your mouth and he explores the feeling of kissing you with the vigor you could only imagine in the small fantasies you would have of him on lonesome nights.

The feeling is gone much too soon for your liking when he speaks up, breaking the kiss to do so. “I’ve waited so long, withstood so many seasons, in the hopes of kissing you with such passion one day.” He puffs out the words with a warm and blissful smile on his face, breathless from the intense kissing you two were partaking in. Your mind lags behind, caught up in the beauty he held when his eyes would crinkle with mirth, and it takes you a moment before the weight of his words  come bearing down on you. “You.. you did-?” Is all you’re able to mumble out in your dumbstruck state before his mouth is on yours again, his passion encompassing your form in heated touches. The pleasure and goosebumps running over your skin leaves you with such a burning desire in not only your heart but your core as well. Knowing that if nothing else, he too wants you like this, is a revelation that leaves your mind feeling like the fog that lingers over a still pond and your body as sensitive as its’ rippling surface. Hands are running up your sides with fingernails barely scraping, causing the hairs on your body to raise in attention. Your fingers are laced in his hair and tugging softly at the strands, wringing out soft moans for you to devour with fervor. One of his legs finds itself slotted between your thighs, tempting you with its slow yet sweet pressure against your groin as it rocks back and forth.

Your hands squeeze his thighs firmly, your grip delectable and exciting to Kazuha apparently, because his hips give a small jerk forward in reply.

Archons you’ve both wanted this for far too long, haven’t you?

 You’ve both become unsatisfied in your restrictive clothing, quickly doing your beth to be rid of the offending clothing in favor of feeling each other’s skin.You smooth your hands out against his back as he comes to lean over you, slotting himself in between your thighs as his trained arms come to support himself above you. “I love your being, your soul.” you hear him confess as he comes down to mouth at your ear, the words and movements sensual enough to cause you to shudder. “And I certainly love hearing every stuttering gasp and repressed moan you have given me” You mentally curse his sensitive hearing as his breath fans over your neck. “This peaceful melody you’ve given me… I hope this means I have been performing to your liking?” He mumbles into your skin before nipping it, soothing it with careful kisses in return. “Of course you’re performing well.” you mutter as you raise your hips to grind your sex against his erection, eliciting a small moan from him as revenge for his teasing words. “Or else I wouldn’t be looking like this.”

He stops his ministrations on your neck to sit up and admire your form. “And what a sight it is.” He smiles at you with genuine love in his eyes, passion and lust ever lingering, but taking a back seat to the pure admiration he holds for you. It’s enough to make your heart constrict with longing, the shutter running though your body causing you both to let out a small gasp at the stimulation on your groins. This teasing and aching are more than enough, you decide with a small huff of frustration. “Kazuha, I have some aloe vera in the bedside table, please.” You keen as you begin shuffling off your underwear. He understands your request and is quick to follow your plea as you toss the undergarment to the side. He gives a small lustful glance to you as he returns with the bottle, already ridding himself of his bottoms as he gazes upon your form.

He settles between your legs once more as he uncaps the bottle and allows the slick aloe vera to coat his fingers, running the liquid over his joints so as to warm it up before slathering it against your entrance. He puts the bottle to the side for a moment to focus his hands on the task of spreading you out, one careful finger slipping into you with trepidation. The feeling for you could only be described as erotic as you watched him begin working you, almost causing your hands to drop the bottle as you pour some aloe vera over your own fingers.  He gives a small hiss in pleasure when your slicked hand wraps around him but he makes no effort to stop you from pumping his erection and coating it in your makeshift lube, causing you to smirk in content. You’ve given him this pleasure, his red and weeping head proof of your work, precum beading at the tip with every pump and his wimpers in delight every time you thumb the slit crowned on top. Taking your hand a little further, you reach to grab at his base, pressing your thumb into a particular vein when pleasure strikes up your spine and shocks you into stopping your movements. Ah, he’s scissoring you open with his fingers now. You weren’t even paying attention to him putting a second finger in with how preoccupied you were with jacking him off, but he certainly has your attention now. A small smirk lingers on his lips as you let out a shaky moan of desire. “Yes, please, Just like that..” You order as your hips coming up to voluntarily fuck yourself onto his fingers in shallow thrusts.

“Beautiful.” He coos as he slips his fingers out from your hole, the small amount of drag in the way he does so leaving your head spinning and your lower half longing for more. He gently drags your hips closer, propping your legs up on his hips while he presses the tip of his length against your hole, experimentally grinding the head against your aching entrance in hopes of testing the waters. You gently bat his arm in frustration glaring up at him with no heat to your gaze. “I’ve been longing for you, yet you still take the moment to relish in teasing me?” He chuckles and with his face sweetly red, he gives you a caste kiss on your lips. “I won’t be denying you any longer. I was just taking a moment to admire the sounds of slicked skin and the smell of heavy lust.” Of course his poetic tendencies come to light right when you are this close to having him in you. Though his head coming to stretch your hole is all that was needed for your forgiveness to be found, your steadying your breathing in an effort to make his entrance smoother.

He comes to lean over you as he slowly penetrates you, his arms on either side of your head now as his erection fills you out, the sensation leaving you shaking in his lap with goosebumps. Kazuha is not unaffected by this either if the small twitches from his erection and the shaky whines escaping his throat are anything to go by. Your slicked skin comes to meet his as you wrap your arms around his neck, readying yourself as he finally bottoms out and slots his thighs against your ass. “The pace?” He mumbles the question into your hair as he comes to hold you against him, one hand smoothing out over the back of your head while the other gently grasps your hips. “Quick.” you whine to his shoulder in desperation. “Hard so I will feel it for awhile.” So you have something to linger on while he is gone, your mind reminds you.  You almost feel tears welling up as he begins thrusting into you at just the pace you asked, the pleasure taking over your body with electric shocks of arousal and need. His balls coming to smack against your ass, the heavier breathing combined with sweet moans coming from Kazuha, finally having your fantasy of your best friend sleeping with you brought to reality, it is almost too much. You rake your nails down his back in an attempt to gather more purchase, your mind blank now that you’re being pleasured like this.

He shifts his position to hit you deeper, allowing you to writhe in the euphoria of his length stretching and filling you. Your thoughts dim and your words turn to much. “Please! please, Kah-” You slur out as he keeps his intense pace. He holds you so gently, and his words are filled with praise and love as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, the fall looking so tempting as it leers ever closer. He bites into your shoulder lightly as his hips begin to stutter in their pace, rocking and grinding into you as he loses his precision. You, in your worry to make sure he’s alright, lean back just enough to get a glance of his face and the sight of him makes you clench around the wanderer. Kazuha’s face is completely a wreck, red and flushed, speckled in sweat slicked hair and, the most shocking of all, tears.

The sight of him sends you over the edge with a harsh push. Your eyes screw shut and legs spasm as you cling to him tighter, hoping he will help you weather out the intense storm that is your orgasm as it ravages your body. Your orgasm causes waves to ripple though your body, and it sends Kazuha off the edge as well after a few lagging thrusts. Your body begins to loosen its’ hold on the samurai as his cum pulses into your hole, filling you further and adding to the pleasure you feel when it begins oozing out from between your thighs. The heavy breathing and sighs of comfort linger in the air for awhile as you both take a moment to cool off from your activities. Archons, you traveled on foot all day and here you were having vigorous sex in the evening. The combination of things made you feel so, so incredibly tired while you two caught your breath.You are so spaced out from your orgasm, your body weary from never experiencing something so emotionally and physically charged as this whole evening was before.

Your eyes are barely able to stay open as Kazuha begins untangling himself from you some unknown amount of time later, his words like muffled distant conversation as you try to keep yourself awake and aware. He’s lifting you and moving you to your bedroom, you feel a cool cloth brush over your face and thighs, you feel some cool water down your throat, but all of it feels so disheartening and cruel knowing he won’t be coming back for awhile after this. You just wanted to lay with him for one night and then put the flames of this desire out for good, or at least that is what you told yourself. Sleeping the pain off seemed leagues easier than dealing with the sorrow you’ll feel if you let him pamper you, is what your mind rationalizes before you drift off to sleep.

That is to say, you were not prepared at all for what awaited you when you woke up the next morning. Despite Kazuha always getting up early and mentioning just the night before that he planned to leave, you find him cooking something in your kitchen, working hard to make something for you both to eat. When he welcomes you to the table with the warmest of smiles, you can’t help but feel gobsmacked by the fact that he is still here. With some assistance of course, he leads you to the table to eat.

“Wait you really thought I would just leave the morning after a confession and love making session like that?” He looks shocked at the explanation you shared with him over breakfast (lunch?). The sunlight drifting in through the window making you shrink in on yourself a tad, as if nature itself was putting the spotlight on you for scrutiny. “I thought…that you would head out by morning. You know the whole ‘the world and my mind will both grow dull lest I travel’ stuff and what not.” Your face red as you take another small helping of rice into your mouth in embarrassment. Kazuha gives a small smile your way as he stands up. You think he’s going to pull one of his old friendly gestures and bat you on the head for saying such things, but instead the most tender and chaste kiss is left on the corner of your mouth. You eyes look at him with shock as he pulls back to gaze at you lovingly.

“Instead of worrying about the idea of holding me back…” He takes your hands in his and runs his thumb along the back of it. “Of course. Only if you desire it. But how about we try wandering through this life together? You and I are both travelers after all-.”

You’re already hugging him, your heart elated and your soul as warm as hot summer.