#and not even considering it. now? he uh... might be!! even more curious to see where ashrym goes from here than callowmoore i admit

[astralleywright]

ashrym and callowmoorym girlie, but never cared for callowmoore on its own bc its always been a very surface level relationship. the last private talk they had was 60 episodes ago! there's a mutual attraction and they're both clearly fond of each other, but i do think whatever romantic feelings fearne has for ashton aren't requited.

ashton and fearne have had wildly different lives, and i think they don't really get each other on a deeper level yet: ashton don't realize how intensely fearne cares about things, including him, and fearne doesn’t realize just how self-destructive and damaged ashton is. at least, she didn't until now.

ashton and orym also enjoy each other and share a mutual attraction, but they've actually developed a connection beyond that. its one ashton specifically went out of their way to cultivate in a way he hasn't with fearne, even after he became genuinely invested in the hells as family instead of just as a key to his past. orym and ashton have lived very different lives, but being a soldier and a criminal respectively have made them both pragmatic, highly valuing of loyalty and family (in whatever form they have it), and more than a little self-sacrificial. there's a lot of unspoken understanding and respect between them because of this. ashton always turns to orym first when it comes to strategy or their next move, and orym has put more and more consistent trust in ashton than anyone else in the hells for a good 40 episodes or so. or, well, he did.

and ashton just acts different with orym than anyone else. they can be quiet and sincere and gentle with anybody one minute and their smug asshole self the next, including fearne in this latest ep, but he never really does the smug asshole part with orym.

and it's interesting because both orym and fearne are sweet, soft-spoken people, but orym is very sturdy in the face of resistance. fearne is not! and ashton is, uh, ashton, and i don't think they intended to bulldoze over fearne (they were clearly trying to give fearne opportunities to back out during the original conversation!), but they definitely kind of did.

with all that said, this ep actually made callowmoore grow on me a little, because at least there's something to actually chew on now. i'm very curious to see where they go from here. but if ashton has actual feelings for anyone, i still definitely think it's orym.

i know that the callowmoore and the ashrym girlies have been going back and forth for months, but i've never really swayed one way or another because i think both sides made good points, but after ep 77 i think things seem clearer (to me at least)

fearne is 100% into ashton, i don't even think that's up for question anymore.

but part of the way tal played ash last night made me think that ashton is either 1) insanely protective of orym for some reason or another OR 2) actually kinda into him

here's my evidence that i remember:

ash kissing fearne but telling her "it's the only one you get"

ash telling fearne that she'll be like his sister if she takes the shard (which she didn't)

ash seeming to not care about fearne's feelings for him (but using them against her later on when he absorbed the second shard)

ash threatening to hurt the kids that jokingly called orym "old man"

now i need to hear what everyone else things so DISCUSS:

[wikiangela]

you know when you know (I think I do)

rating: G words: 1.4k

[read on Ao3]

___

“So, you and Buck.” Eddie finally gets on the topic he was clearly inching towards the whole evening. Tommy’s lips involuntarily turn up into a smile.

“Yeah. What about us?” He asks, still turned towards the TV, then takes a sip of his beer.

“You guys are, uh, together. Dating.” Eddie fiddles with the label on his beer bottle, sounding a little hesitant and awkward.

“Have been for weeks now.” Tommy nods, smile widening at the mere thought of Evan. He leans his head back against the back of the couch, then turns more towards Eddie. “Any particular reason you’re bringing it up now?”

“Uh, not really. I mean, I’m so happy for you guys, and, uh, it’s none of my business, I just-” He takes a deep breath. Tommy waits, curious about what his friend might have to say. “Listen, Tommy, I don’t wanna be one of these friends who’s all ‘if you hurt him, I’ll kill you’, that’s not me.” Eddie starts, cringing at the words. “Besides, he’s a grown man who’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself.”

“True.” Tommy nods. He can already see where Eddie’s going with it. Tommy finds it sweet how much people in Evan’s life love him and care for him, and are protective of him, but not to a weird or unhealthy degree. He can appreciate that.

“But he’s my best friend.” Eddie continues. “And I just worry.”

“Okay?” Tommy prompts when Eddie falls silent, a frown on his face, like he’s considering his next words.

“He’s been through a lot. In general, but also relationship-wise. I’ve seen only part of it, but I’ve heard it all. And I just- I don’t want him to get hurt again.” 

“I’m not planning to hurt him, Eddie.” Tommy says softly. It’s obvious, and he knows what Eddie meant, but he wants to voice it anyway. He would never, ever, in a million years, do anything that could even remotely hurt his Evan. And if he did so unknowingly, he doesn’t think he’d forgive himself. Evan is such a ray of sunshine, he’s so good and sweet, and genuine, and Tommy would do anything just to keep that radiant smile on his face. 

“I know that.” Eddie shakes his head briefly. “People rarely do. It’s just that, Buck always gives a thousand percent of himself into everything.” A fond smile appears on his face, and Tommy is once again witness to the amazing bond those two have. This kind of friendship is so rare, they’re both so lucky to have each other – and Tommy is lucky to be let into it, even just a little bit. “Once he’s in, he’s in. And, Tommy,” Eddie looks him in the eyes, “Buck is definitely in, all the way, no turning back. He’s falling for you so hard and so fast, and letting all his guards down. Because that’s Buck, that’s what he does. And I just don’t want him to get too deep before you’re ready, before you’re both ready, and I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I get it.” Tommy nods once, because of course he sees where Eddie’s coming from. “But you have nothing to worry about, Eddie. With Evan…” His lips curl into a smile around the word. “I’m already so far gone.” He shakes his head a little. “I know it’s soon, but I’m really falling for him.” He says quietly, but surely. He’s not used to this, talking about his feelings, about dating, about a person he’s seeing, especially not with someone he’s only known for such a short time. But he and Eddie became fast friends, and he’s Evan’s best friend, and Tommy feels safe enough to say it. He’s also honest and straightforward, and he likes to say it how it is, and this is how it is. He’s falling – or, to be honest, has fallen already – very fast and very hard for Evan Buckley, and he doesn’t feel the need to hide it. Evan is it for him. And he’s going to tell him that soon.

“Good.” Eddie says, tone serious, but a soft smile is forming on his lips. “He’s very lovable. You’d be an idiot to not fall for him.”

“I know.” Tommy grins. From the moment they met, he knew there’s something about Evan, something that pulled him in, got his attention right away. They laughed about it later, after they officially started dating and talked about that whole situation, how Evan put so much effort into trying to get his attention, but he had it anyway, from the start. Tommy was just more subtle about it, and he couldn’t figure out if Evan was flirting that day he gave him the Harbor tour or not. Seems like even Evan didn’t know. He’s so adorable, and kind, and bright and happy like sunshine personified. How was Tommy supposed to take one look at him and not develop a crush, that only seems to keep intensifying the more he gets to know him?

“And, for the record, I don’t want you to get hurt, either. We’re friends, too. Unless you break my best friend’s heart, that is.” He adds, his tone a little teasing, before his smile changes into something fond and genuine. “I’m really happy you guys found each other, truly. I’ve never seen him like this.” He chuckles quietly, shakes his head. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but I can already tell you two just make sense. So, take good care of my best friend, Kinard.”

“Of course. I plan on it.” Tommy says, meaning it from the bottom of his heart. 

“Just, not too much PDA when I’m hanging out with you guys, yeah?” He grimaces. “I don’t wanna feel like I’m third-wheeling a boys' night.” He laughs, and so does Tommy.

“Well, I’m not really a big PDA guy anyway.” He shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But who knows, I can’t really keep my hands to myself around Evan.”

“And it’s time to change the subject,” he shakes his head furiously, “I don’t wanna hear more than I have to. Buck already tells me way too much.” Eddie says quickly, and Tommy laughs again. 

But the subject changes, and their attention is mostly back on the game playing on the TV. They spend the rest of the evening like this, watching sports, drinking beer and chatting. That’s how Evan finds them when he lets himself into Tommy’s house later, since he left the door unlocked.

He walks into the room, says hi to Eddie, then unceremoniously plops down in Tommy’s lap, giving him a long, sweet kiss, smiling into it. Tommy’s free hand circles around his waist, the other still holding his beer.

“Hello to you, too, Evan, how was your day?” Tommy chuckles when they pull away, his nose rubbing against Evan’s. He was spending the day with Jee-Yun, giving Maddie and Howie the day to themselves.

“It was good, we went to the playground, and then to help Bobby and Athena with unpacking, and then had coffee at Hen’s.” Evan grins, his face still so close to Tommy’s he almost looks blurry. “But I missed you so much.” He presses another kiss to Tommy’s lips, which Tommy obviously reciprocates. When he pulls away and glances at Eddie, expecting him to have an amused but annoyed look on his face, or maybe a faux-disgust, but what he finds instead is the fondest, proudest look he’s seen from him, as he looks straight ahead at the TV, giving them a semblance of privacy. Eddie looks just genuinely so happy for his best friend, for both of them. It warms Tommy’s heart. Eddie glances at them, and their eyes meet, and he just rolls his eyes fondly, but is still smiling.

“Okay, baby, I missed you, too, but let’s leave that for later or Eddie won’t want to hang out with us anymore.” Tommy says, and Evan pulls away further, chuckling.

“Eh, we always have each other.” He teases and shrugs, and Eddie scoffs loudly.

“You know I can’t watch basketball with you. Or do Muay Thai.” Tommy raises his eyebrow, giving Evan a knowing look. He can barely watch any sports with Evan, actually, because he never really gets into it, and whenever he gets bored, somehow they end up making out through the whole thing. Evan’s really good at distracting Tommy from just about anything.

“Oh, that’s all you need me for?” Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Fine, then I’ll just leave you two-” he starts getting up, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Sit down and drink your beer.” Buck laughs, as he climbs off Tommy’s lap and pulls out a phone out of his pocket. Eddie sits back down, laughing as well. “I’m gonna order pizza for dinner. Any preferences?”

[read also on Ao3]

[freedomfireflies]

Outlawed*

Summary: The fifth and final part to Knockout*

The one where Harry just wants to fight, and you just want to love him.

Word Count: 10k (folks...we made it!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, blood, violence, brief use of a knife, pain kink, size kink

“Cherry?”

Instantly, your head lifts. The familiarly warm nickname sewing up the frayed seams of your heart and sending it into a tizzy.

However, instead of the handsome stranger you’ve come to miss, you find Owen. Eyebrow raised and expression curious.

With a quick clear of your throat, you pull your attention back. “What?”

“Cherry,” he repeats, nodding now toward the pastry in front of you. “Is it cherry tonight?”

You look down as well. “Oh, uh, yeah. Yup.”

“Hm.” His lips press together in thought. “I like the cherry. The way you make it, it’s…it’s sweet. But just a bit sour.”

“Yup...”

“It’s very good.”

“Thanks.”

His hands disappear into his pockets with a short nod of his head. “I know the customers really like it, too. Get comments about it all the time.”

“That’s good.”

“You could probably make it every night. If you wanted.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

There’s a bit of a tense lull now as you continue rolling the dough, and you notice Owen begin to shift just out of your peripheral. He doesn’t normally hover when you’re working, not unless he’s got something he’d like to talk about, and his lingering glances make your insides begin to itch.

So, you raise a brow, and look over. “Is something…wrong?”

“Hm? Oh, no. No, not at all,” he stammers. “I just…wanted to check in. See how you’re feeling.”

Curious, you straighten up.“Oh…why?”

“Well, I’ve just noticed how quiet you’ve been,” he explains. “And I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just…trying to get my work done.”

He steps closer. “I noticed your friend hasn’t been coming around as much. The sullen one, with the dark clothes and broody temper?”

And despite everything else, you can’t help but smile at the memories. “Oh, yeah, well…I don’t think he’ll be coming by anymore. Don’t worry.”

“Ah.” A brief pause. “Is it because of Jesse?”

Instantly, you lean back, pulling the rolling pin away from the counter in surprise. “What?”

“Jesse. The other boy who was in here,” he says. “The tall, snobby one in the fancy clothes? Kind of annoying?”

“I…yeah.” Your lashes flutter. “I guess, I mean. They don’t really…get along. But…it’s probably my fault, too.”

He hums to himself almost contemplatively. “You’re not back with him, are you? The Jesse one?”

“Uh…no. Why?”

“I just…I don’t like him,” he sighs, arms crossing over his apron. “I think he’s trouble, and truth be told, you don’t always look that happy when he’s around.”

And you know he’s right, although you are a little surprised that he noticed. “Oh…well, no. No, not at all.”

“Good. Good.” He nods again. “Honestly, you can do a lot better than him, darling. Especially considering everything else he’s involved in.”

Now slightly more startled, your head tilts. “What do you mean?”

“Well…you know,” he begins, moving even closer before lowering his voice. “I don’t want to talk out of turn, and I certainly don’t want to scare you, but…I imagine you already know a little of what he really does, yeah?”

And even though you should know better than to answer, and even though you have Harry’s stern voice ringing in your ear not to trust him…you nod.

“Right, well…I know how much trouble that might put you in,” he continues. “And I know that with the fighting, and the betting, and the outsourcing…I’d hate to see you get dragged down with him—”

“Wait, what? What outsourcing?”

After a quick glance around the rather empty kitchen, Owen sighs, and murmurs, “Look, I don’t know everything, but a few months ago, he approached me with a proposal. He explained about the fights, and about the betting, and said that I’d be making easy money. That it was a guaranteed win because his fighter never lost.”

And suddenly, the image of Harry in that ring – night after night, hit after hit – paints itself across the forefront of your mind. You lose your breath, chest constricting with the thought of all the pain he endures at Jesse’s hand.

“And from what I could tell, he was taking the betting outside of the fights,” he explains. “I don’t know where or to how many other people, but he was pretty confident. And truth be told, I started to wonder if he’d maybe rigged it.”

“Rigged it? How?”

He shrugs. “I’m not really sure. Maybe he was paying the other fighter to lose or maybe he was paying his fighter extra to make sure he always won. Either way, I said no, and he took his business elsewhere. I think he was afraid of getting caught.”

And it makes sense. Every little detail clicking into place as you recall that night at the match. Jesse’s threat and his insistence on Harry’s win. Harry’s refusal not to play his game.

You straighten up. “Right.”

“Look, I just…I don’t want to see you get dragged down with him,” Owen finishes softly. “You’re a good kid, and he’s…you can do better. You can do a lot better than him, and I hope you know that.”

And you do now.

“Thanks,” you murmur before placing the rolling pin down. “I know this is a bit last minute, but is there any way I might be able to leave early today? I think I need to go find him.”

“Yeah. No problem.” He checks his watch. “Joshua’s supposed to be coming in soon. I could have him cover for you if you’d like to leave now.”

“Really? Would that be all right?”

“Sure. The pies probably won’t be as good as when you make ‘em, but…” He throws you a smile and you laugh. “Do what you need to do. And if you need any help, just give me a call, okay, darling?”

Nodding quickly, you wipe your hands down the front of your apron before ripping it off. “Of course. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

You’re out the diner door in under two minutes, nearly sprinting to your car as you work out a plan.

You’re almost positive that outside betting goes against the league’s rules (although you wonder if an illegal, underground fighting society even has any rules at all). But especially if it means Jesse ends up making more money on each fight than anyone else actually involved. The fighters included.

And if Jesse truly doesn’t want anyone else to know, you might have just found your loophole. A way to get him out of the picture and still keep Harry safe. 

You aren’t sure where to start. Truth be told, you aren’t sure what you’ll even say. But perhaps you don’t have to say much. Perhaps you only need Jesse to know that you know, and he’ll take care of the rest.

You head for the one place you know he might be. Your heart aches to call Harry, but without an address, a last name, or a phone number, you don’t really have very many options. You can only hope that he’ll find you once this is all over.

When you finally make it into the darker part of town, your pulse begins to pound. Slamming against the sides of your ribcage as you pull up to the familiar building and park. Right beside the only other car in the lot.

It’s not until you step out that you realize who it is.

“Well, well, well,” Jesse calls with a devious smirk, exiting his vehicle as well. “What a surprise, sugarplum. Come to watch tonight’s big fight?”

You take in a brave breath and begin toward him. “No. I’m here to talk to you.”

His brow raises, but he seems relaxed. In fact, far too relaxed for your liking. “I see. And can I assume this has something to do with your little boytoy?”

“Not quite. But it does have to do with you.”

“Ah.” He grins to himself before dramatically gesturing toward the warehouse. “Then, by all means.” 

So, with a shallow exhale, you oblige, trailing after him and toward the front door just as you did the other night. It’s an eerie deja-vu.  

And perhaps you should feel a bit more nervous than you do, but deep down, you know him. You know that he’s lacking any real emotion or regret, and maybe, that might just give you an edge.

After typing in the passcode, he leads you inside. The once glorious space now dark and empty. Sporting nothing but the large boxing ring and the stunning chandelier.

“I’ve gotta be honest, sugarplum, I don’t know what you said to him…but it worked,” he begins as you both walk further into the room. “I’ve never seen him fight like that before.”

You purse your lips together in an effort to resist screaming at him. “Well, that’s what you wanted, right?”

“It is.” He stops near the ring and turns around, leaning on it as he studies you. “And I knew you’d come through.”

“Great. So, you’ll leave him alone now, right?”

“As long as he wins, sure.”

“You mean, as long as he makes you money.”

His arms cross now, and that smug expression makes you want to slug him. “As long as he does what he gets paid to do, then there won’t be a problem.”

“Right. And as long as you can keep outsourcing the bets.”

For the first time, he hesitates, that arrogant grin slipping ever-so-slightly as he raises his chin. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I stutter?” You step closer, and you notice him tense. “The money that you outsource to other bettors. The money that you make – that Harry makes you – on these fights every time he wins.”

His jaw ticks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“No? You wanna bet on that?”

And you don't think you've ever seen him so livid. Not even on his worst night when you were together, and your insides begin to wrench.

But before he can reply – before he can really do anything – a door opens. Allowing a rather bright stream of light into the warehouse as you and Jesse both reach up to shield your eyes.

And then...you see him.

Harry.

It takes him a moment to understand what he’s really looking at, but you catch the exact second he realizes. The way his face contorts and his fingers curl into his fist.

And you want to explain, want to take back everything you said and tell him the truth, but he’s already speaking up before you can.

“What the fuck is this?” he calls, and it’s so very angry. But he’s not talking to you.

He’s talking to Jesse.

Jesse merely rolls his shoulders back, attempting to settle back into his condescending façade. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“No?” He scoffs. It’s bitter and full of disdain. “Because anything you fucking say to her concerns me.”

Your heart skips.

Jesse, however, merely snorts to himself before glancing at you. “It’s a wonder you manage to get anything done on your own.”

Harry instantly strides closer, and you suddenly feel safer. Relieved to be near him again and desperate to feel him. To wrap yourself in his arms and never let go. To make things right. 

But not once does he look in your direction. Instead keeping his focus on the man near the mat as he approaches. “Don’t fucking speak to her that way,” he nearly growls. “In fact, don’t speak to her at all.”

“Or what, hm?” The haughty cadence is back. “Do you really think you have any power outside of this ring?”

“I think I can knock your fucking teeth down your throat anywhere I goddamn please.”

“How incredibly barbaric.” Jesse’s brow cocks upwards. “Is he like this when he fucks, too?”

This question is directed at you, and no sooner has it left his mouth does Harry suddenly surge forward, grab him by the collar, and slam him back into the ring.

You gasp – or maybe you scream – before Harry removes one hand in order to send it flying straight into Jesse’s nose.

Blood is everywhere. Dripping from Jesse’s mouth, smeared across Harry’s knuckles, splattered along the concrete floor.  

And you want to intervene. Want to do anything that might make you feel a little less useless, but Harry is delivering the second blow before you can decide.

“You fucking—” Punch. “—piece—” Punch. “—of shit.” Each comment is swimming in vile contempt, his expression livid and incensed. 

You’ve never seen him this outraged. Didn’t even know a person could hold this much resentment, but it sends chills down your spine.

“Harry,” you murmur, taking a tentative step closer. “Harry, wait—”

“After everything you’ve fucking taken from me,” he sneers in Jesse’s face, “you wanna take her, too?”

Jesse’s only response is to suck in a large gasp for air that becomes gargled by the blood in his throat, and you feel sick. 

“Harry,” you try again, grasping onto his other arm in an effort to tug him back. “Harry, wait, there’s another way—"

He brushes you off almost too easily. “And now—” Another hit, this time to Jesse’s stomach. “—you think she can save you? You think you can use her to get what you fucking want?”

He sends his busted knuckles straight into Jesse’s teeth, and your insides twist.

“Harry, stop,” you plead, yanking on him a bit harder. “I found another way, okay, please—”

“You fucking think…I’m gonna let you use her?” he seethes before pulling his arm back for the next hit. “You’re out of your goddamn mind—”

Without much thought, you suddenly rush around him, and place your hands on his chest. Wedging yourself between the two just before he can land the next strike to Jesse’s jaw.

It’s stupid and it’s impulsive and it’s rash, but it works. And it’s the only thing that seems to pull him back from that treacherous edge as his eyes find yours and his arm instantly drops. 

It’s the first time he’s looked at you in days, and you want to cry. Because he’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before. Void of any emotion or understanding except for the realization that he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Harry,” you whisper, and his name cracks from your throat. “Harry, please, I…I found another way. Okay? He…you don’t have to do this—”

“I know. I want to,” he replies, still rather hostile.

“But I don’t want you to,” you argue. “Okay, I think we can get out of this. There’s a way to get him out—”

“I don’t want a way. I want to fucking kill him.”

“Harry, you…” You suck in a quick breath and move closer, nearly gluing yourself to his tense frame. “He’s outsourcing the bets. He’s stealing money from the fights, okay, and we can get him out.”

He looks surprised for all of a minute before the look suddenly vanishes and he attempts to brush you away. “I don’t care. He deserves this.”

“Harry,” you nearly gasp, “if you do this, they’ll kill you. Okay, and I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you—”

His features soften, although he still begins to push past you. “You’ll be all right—”

“Stop, just listen—"

“Cherry,” he warns now, “get out of the way.”

“Harry, please, don’t do this. You can’t do this—"

“I don’t care. Move—”

“Harry—”

“Cherry, move—”

“I love you.”

He stops. Seems to freeze right where he stands, but you barrel on. Clutching onto his dark, familiar hoodie as though trying to grab at his heart.

“I love you,” you repeat in a strained whisper. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I lied, I…I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was helping, or…or doing what was best, but it wasn’t – I wasn’t. I wasn’t, and I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. Blinks. Doesn’t move.

“And I love you.” You suck in a shaky breath as the tears fight their way to your waterline. “I love you so much it makes my chest hurt, and I can’t lose you, and…and please. Please don’t do this.”

And you’ve never felt so vulnerable or afraid. And not because of his silence, but because you’ve never loved anybody the way you love him. And you’ll understand if he no longer feels the same or if he’s changed his mind. If he wants to punish you for your lie or for your attempt to say it now.

Instead…he moves to rest his hands over yours. Keeping them over his heart before dipping down…and kissing you.

And it fixes everything. Absolutely everything. Because it’s perfect and familiar and so incredibly Harry.

And you’ve missed him.

You feel an arm slowly snaking around your lower stomach, and you begin to smirk against his lips before you realize who the arm really belongs to.

It yanks you back, ripping you away from the man you love until you’re cemented against Jesse’s chest.

Something cold and sharp is settled against your throat, and you take in a quick gasp for air. 

Harry attempts to remain calm as he’s forced to watch, but you can see the edges of his sanity coming loose. Jaw clenching, teeth gritting, brows furrowing. His shoulders are tense beneath his sweatshirt, his hands are balling into fists, and his head is cocking to the side like he’s debating whether or not to lunge.

Jesse merely laughs in your ear. “This is so fucking pathetic. And so goddamn cliché, sugarplum. Is this really what you want? Him?”

You squirm a bit in his hold, and Harry takes a brave step forward. But almost instantly, the blade of the knife begins to press further into the soft skin of your throat, immediately forcing Harry back with a dark scowl.

“Easy,” Jesse warns as you both go still. “Come on, now, I think you both know better than that.”

“Jess,” you pant, reaching for his wrist. “Jesse, please—”

“It’s so simple,” he continues, ignoring your attempt. “So fucking simple. Just win the match. Win the goddamn match and you get to go home."

“I don’t fucking care. Let her go,” Harry seethes. “This isn’t about her—”

“Except that it is.” Jesse’s smirk widens. “Of course it is. You wanted to leave to protect her, so you will stay to protect her. You made it about her, dear Harold. I’m only following your lead.”

Something shifts now in Harry’s expression, and it nearly ruins you. He looks…lost. So very lost and helpless. Like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do without you.

Jesse presses his nose to the side of your cheek, and you feel the warm blood smear across your skin. “So, if you wanna take this away from me, then I have no problem returning the favor.”

The knife is pulled taut to the curve of your throat, and you hiss, making Harry’s face pale.

And when his eyes finally flitter to yours, you realize what you have to do.

“Harry,” you whisper, nodding once. Subtle enough to go unnoticed by the man behind you before you smile gently. “It’s okay.”

You’re not sure he truly understands, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. He will soon.

So, you slowly lift your arm until you can bend your elbow, only to send it flying straight back into Jesse’s stomach.

It’s not enough to really harm him. In fact, it’s hardly enough to even surprise him, but it does distract him just enough to loosen his grip on the knife. Giving you the room you need to spin around in his hold and deliver your fist to his face.

The shock of the blow seems to do more than the strike itself. But he goes stumbling back, nevertheless, and the moment his arm has dropped from your waist, Harry steps forward and rips the knife from his hand. 

Once it’s in his possession, he grabs onto your wrist, and wrangles you behind him.

“Don’t ever…” he begins, stepping closer until the tip of the sharp blade can rest just beneath Jesse’s jaw, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

Jesse says nothing. He merely stares through his swollen eyelids and bloodstained lashes. 

“You’re no longer Harry’s sponsor,” you add. “And you’re no longer a part of the league. Do whatever you have to do to get out. Or we’ll do it for you.”

Harry smirks, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so smug.

When Jesse doesn’t answer, the weapon is nudged further into his bruised skin, forcing him to suck in a sharp breath as he finally grits, “Fine.”

Satisfied with his response, Harry lowers the knife, and steps back just far enough to let Jesse slip by. And the two of you watch as he stumbles toward the door without a single glance before disappearing into the parking lot.

Leaving you both behind.

The moment he’s gone, Harry turns to you, wraps his arms around your waist, and hoists you into the air. Keeping you snug in his embrace while you squeal and fling your arms around his neck for stability.

“Oh, that’s my fucking girl,” he nearly groans, and you laugh. “M’so goddamn proud of you, baby. Never seen something so fucking hot.”

You dip down until you can nuzzle your nose with his. “Well, I learned from the best.”

“Yeah? Good.” His grin nearly splits his face. “Can I please take you home now?”

And you nod so quickly, you’re nearly dizzy.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, easy. Easy, sweet girl, deep breath. I’ve got you, yeah? Know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon.”

With a sharp exhale, you motion your head up and down, allowing Harry to pull your hand closer in order to continue dabbing the alcohol swab over the torn skin of your knuckles.

His tiny bathroom falls quiet as you sit on the edge of the sink. Him between your legs, attention trained on your bruise. And while the sensation is rather uncomfortable, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so cared for. So…fulfilled and secure.

And you realize, this is how you were always meant to feel. 

With him.

“It’s gonna sting for a bit, but I’m almost done,” he promises, eyes softening when he sees your pained wince. “You’re being so good for me, Cherry, I’m so proud of you.”

You pout and it makes him chuckle. “You made it look so easy.”

“S’cause it wasn’t my first time.” He reaches for the gauze. “And we already know how I feel about pain.”

With a smirk of your own, you jut your chin toward him. “Yeah? And how are you feeling now?”

“Now?” His expression is wicked as he now leans just close enough to ghost his lips over yours. “Now…I feel fucking insatiable.”

You waste no time kissing him. In succumbing to his games and his endless teasing. You kiss him, and you don’t care if that means he wins, because you’ve never needed anyone or anything more.

And he’s so entertained by your desperation. His own bandaged hand finding your cheek as you sigh against his tongue and settle into this moment of adoration. 

When he pulls back, you’re winded.

He goes back to work dressing your knuckles, wrapping the white gauze around and around until your torn skin is thoroughly protected.

And you watch him as he does this. As he sweeps his thumb gently along the ridges of your hand before bringing it to his mouth in order to leave yet another kiss.

“There,” he murmurs, trailing his lips across the fibers. “All better.”

It’s the most beautiful and romantic thing you think anyone has ever done for you, and your heart lodges in your throat. “Harry?”

“Hm?”

“…do you hate me?”

Surprised, he instantly straightens up and leans back. “What?”

“Do you…do you hate me? Because of what I did? What I said?” You attempt to ward off the influx of impending tears, but you can already feel the first one slipping free. “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”

His expression immediately drops as he reaches up to grasp onto your face once more. Thumbs brushing quickly along your warm skin as you sniffle. “Cherry…I could never hate you. Ever.”

“But maybe you should,” you whisper. “I hurt you, and I lied to you, and…and I don’t deserve you—”

“Baby,” he breathes, surging forward to press his forehead to yours in an effort to silence you. “Don’t ever fucking say that again, do you hear me? I know exactly why you did it, and I could never be mad at you for that. I was only hurt because I didn’t want to lose you. But you were only trying to protect me. I know that.”

“I said I didn’t love you,” you nearly croak. “I said I loved him. After everything you’ve done for me—”

“You had to,” he interrupts, and his understanding only hurts more. “Cherry, you had to. It was the only way, and I know that. I knew it then, too. You’ve only ever tried to protect me, and I wasn’t letting you.”

You grab onto his wrists and vow to never let go.

“And it’s not fair that you were put in that position,” he continues. “It’s not fair that you were forced to make that call, and it’s not fair that I dragged you into this. You were expected to choose between somebody you’ve known your entire life and somebody you just met. That’s not fair, and I never should have made you—”

“It wasn’t a choice,” you hiccup. “It was never a choice. It was always you.”

Those pretty pink lips pull back into the softest grin you’ve ever seen. “You were trying to save me, sweet girl. I know that, and I will never, ever hate you. I love you.”

I love you. The three best words you could ever hear, and your first sob wracks from your chest as you fling your arms around his neck to kiss him.

He kisses you back, but it’s soft. And sweet. And meant to convey exactly how he truly feels. 

And it works because this is all you’ve ever wanted. Just him, and this moment, and those three words.

“Easy,” he warns through a strained breath. “Baby, careful—”

“Please,” is all you pant. “Harry, please, I can’t…I can’t wait any longer, please.”

And he nearly coos with amusement as he nuzzles his nose under your jaw in order to paint more kisses along your throat. “Can’t wait, hm? But what if I want to make this special?”

“It is. Is special—”

“Cherry,” he chuckles, “it’s all right. M’not going anywhere. We don’t have to rush, all right? S’been a long day and I don’t expect anything—”

“But I do,” you huff. “I’m ready, I want to. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

He laughs a little louder now, leaning back in order to see you. “I’m just trying to take care of you, sweet girl. We didn’t wait this long to throw it away because of him. I want this to be good for you. I want you to be sure that this is really what you want.”

And you appreciate the sentiment more than you’ll ever be able to explain. But right now, there is only one true way you want to spend the rest of this horrid day.

So, you lift your leg and hook it around his hip, pulling him back between your thighs with a pleading look.

In turn, he smirks, fingers returning to your chin with a playful squeeze. “Thought I was the insatiable one.”

“We’ll take turns,” you exhale before surging forward to kiss him again. Capturing his lips between your own and savoring the feeling you never thought you’d feel again.

And you can see his resolve crumble. Can see the way his eyes fall shut, the way his chest rises and falls beneath his dark shirt, the way his hands grasp onto your waist to keep you close.

He’s hungry. Ravenous. Losing the fight before it even begins, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Because now – now – he can have you. He can give you exactly what you want, can be exactly who he wants to be for you.

“Where do you wanna be, baby?” he asks through teasing nips to your neck. “The bed? The couch? D’you wanna go back to your apartment? Might feel more comfortable for you—”

“No, I don’t care,” you interrupt anxiously. “I don’t care, I just want you.”

He grins against your throat. “My greedy girl,” he murmurs, and your stomach flips. “Let’s go to the bed, yeah? Wanna lay you out and see you.”

And you want nothing more than to let him.

Regretfully, he pulls his lips from your skin and steps away, and you feel like you might die without him. But he’s quick to remedy this by taking your hand in order to help you hop down from the sink. Leading you out of the bathroom and through his apartment toward the bedroom.

His apartment isn’t what you expected. Although, truth be told, you didn’t know what to expect. It’s a bit bigger than yours, but there’s something…empty about it. Hollow, almost. The furniture is scarce, the colors and décor are few and far between. It doesn’t even look like anybody lives here, something he pointed out the moment you entered.

“Hardly spend any time here,” he’d said as you glanced around. “S’just a place to sleep, really. It’s never really felt like a home…until you walked through the door.”

And it was wildly cheesy, and perhaps a bit lame, but it was everything. 

His bedroom doesn’t seem to be any different as he leads you inside. The walls are a dark grey, and his bedding is a similarly dark shade. He’s got one chair and one dresser. It’s quite clean, all things considered. No clothes lying on the floor or towels slung over the closet door. 

It’s so very…Harry.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as your eyes flicker about the room. “Know it’s not very romantic.”

But you merely grin as you shake your head and grasp onto his hand. “Are you kidding? It’s perfect.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You drag him toward the mattress before plopping down rather contently. “It’s so you. And I love that.”

And he only smiles before chasing after you and wrangling you into his arms.

It’s a faster dance from there. His hands and lips are everywhere they can reach. Slipping up the backs of your legs, ghosting over the curve of your hips, pulling at the zipper on your dress.

You merely settle in his embrace and allow him to take whatever he’d like. To touch and kiss each lingering thought away until all you know is him.

He’s careful but practiced. Treating you with the same adoration and gentle precision as he always has. And you’re so very thankful to feel so safe in his arms. A kind of security you weren’t sure you’d ever find in a partner the way you have him.

With anyone else you’ve ever been with, sex has always been transactional. A means to an end. This thing that you do to get off and nothing more. And despite your submissive preferences, there have been times when you truly felt powerless to your partner. Simply…there. Until they decided they no longer needed you.

But Harry…

He looks at you like your body is sacred. Like he’s undeserving of being so close to you. Of getting to touch you, hold you, feel you. Completely in-tune to every noise you make and every flutter of your lashes. Constantly on guard for your enjoyment and consent so he never goes any further than you want him to.

But you know, undoubtedly, that no matter how far he goes…it’ll never be enough.

You want his everything. His all. Anything he’s willing to offer, and you imagine you feel about as grateful as he looks to be here with him like this. To witness this kind of tender reverence.

He settles onto his back and pulls you on top. Placing you in a straddle over his waist until he can gaze up at you. “You okay, Cherry?”

You nod quickly – breathlessly – before resting your hands on his chest to brace yourself. “Just excited.”

His smile is boyish and charming, showcasing that familiar dimple that makes your cheeks warm. “Good. Want you to be.” He rubs soft circles into your hip before his brows furrow. “Y’know what I just realized?”

“Hm?”

“I still don’t know your name.”

And despite it all…you laugh. “I’ll tell you on one condition.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

You smirk. “I still want to be your Cherry.”

He chuckles as he squeezes your sides and drags you closer. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs as you dip down to kiss him. “Always.”

With a soft smile, you trail your lips from his cheek to his ear, whispering the forbidden name almost timidly.

And to your surprise, he only grins wider. “That’s beautiful, sweet girl. S’perfect, too. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You feel the blood rush to your face as you bury your lips against his throat and gently tug at his skin. “Okay, all right.”

“I mean it,” he insists, palm slipping around the back of your neck to tug you back out. “Cherry, you’re beautiful. I don’t say it to say it. I look at you…and I feel like I can’t breathe.”

And maybe they are just words. Maybe they’re meant to make your insides twist and make your heart swoon. To be romantic and suave.

But you believe him. Because you can see in his eye just how much he means it. Can feel it in your stomach that he’s never been as honest as he is right now.

Further proving that everything in your life…has led you to him. Every decision, every regret, every mistake. It brought you right here, to this moment, in his arms. 

You don’t waste any time on replies or longing looks. You kiss him, and you resume this frantic dance, and you beg him to make things better. To ease this ache in your stomach as well as your heart.

So, he does.

Nimble fingers pull at the zipper along your side, loosening your uniform until he can guide it up and over your head. Only stopping once to whisper, “S’this okay, baby? Can I see you?”

You nod almost impatiently. “Yes, yeah. Whatever you want, promise.”

“Hm. Careful what you wish for, sweet girl,” he hums warningly. “Or I might just take you up on that.”

The moment your frame is revealed to him, he nearly groans. Allowing his hands to smooth up and down your shivering silhouette as you anxiously wait for more.

However, instead of allowing him the time to indulge in your body, you begin to tug at his sweatshirt. Silently requesting he reveal himself to you, too.

He smirks. “All right, hold on.”

He barely has a chance to sit up before you’re reaching for his hem in a desperate attempt to remove it. Making him chuckle as he grabs onto his collar before swiftly pulling it over his head. 

And you nearly sigh. Because he’s so ethereal to look at. Every ridge, and tattoo, and scar. The way he breathes, the way he flexes. You can’t help but reach for him, skimming your fingers down the dips and curves of his toned chest and stomach almost reverently as a breath catches in your throat.

And he lets you. Studying you closely while you study your hand. A moment of silence passing before he mumbles, “Baby?”

“Hm?”

He reaches up to tuck a bit of hair behind your ear. “M’gonna have to stretch you a bit before we start, okay? Don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay,” you answer almost too quickly. “That’s fine. I’m not worried.”

He seems amused. “I know you’re not, but I am. You know I’d never want to hurt you. And I just want to make sure we go at a pace you’re comfortable with.”

There’s an odd sort of fluttering in your chest as you scoot closer and slip your fingers into the curls on his neck. Stroking his roots in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m okay with any pace as long as it’s you.”

“Promise?”

You nudge your nose against his. “Promise.”

Finally, he seems satisfied. “Okay, sweet girl. Then can you lay down for me?”

You’re on your back before he can even finish the question, attempting to intertwine your fingers with his and drag him along with you.

“Cherry,” he laughs again, and the sound is like music. An orchestra of joy and infatuation that you can feel all the way down in your toes. “Can’t be that greedy, can you?”

“I can,” you pant, hips bucking up as he reaches for the silk around your waist. “Just please…”

“Please,” he repeats thoughtfully, pulling his focus to the material he’s slipping down your legs. “You really are my sweet girl, hm?”

Another nod. “Mhm.”

“Guess I have made you wait, yeah?” He discards of the delicate panties before smoothing his palm up the inside of your thigh. “Made you sit and be good?”

“Harry…”

“And you have been,” he muses, ignoring your mewling. “Been so good for me. Think I need to show you how proud I am. And apologize for being so mean to you. For making you go so long without.”

He moves to settle between your parted legs, one hand beside your head to brace himself while the other travels down the expanse of your stomach. Calming the trembling skin and leaving goosebumps behind until he reaches what he’s looking for.

He looks at your face first. Examines your expression and the flutter of your lashes. Stilling just long enough to listen to you breathe. “It’s okay, Cher. I’ve got you.”

You run your fingers through his hair and smile. “I know.”

His thumb is the first thing that finds you. Ghosting gently over your clit and down in order to prepare you. Ease you into the sensation.

You take in a satisfied inhale that melts into a whimper and he grins.

Pushing through your folds, he slows when he finds your arousal. Glancing down to see it for himself. “So warm, baby. Missed this.”

“Missed you,” you nearly whine, and he seems pleased.

The tip of his digit pushes in just far enough to tease you but not enough to satiate you. Leaving a rather hollow feeling in your stomach the moment he pulls back out.

You just about slump into the mattress. “Harry…”

“M’just trying to be gentle,” he says. “And I wanna take my time. Wanna really feel you. Remember this moment.”

Your heart swells. “How oddly sentimental of you.”

He shrugs before pushing the finger back inside. “Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

Your back instantly arches from the bed when he reaches his knuckle. And the gratified look he wears seems to worsen this untamable ache.

“There you go,” he coos. “See? One’s not so bad.”

His pace is slow to begin. Torturous in a sense, but he knows that. He wants to work you up, make you squirm. Have your pleas falling from your tongue like water from the sky.

And of course it works, it always does. You weren’t sure what else you expected, but as he continues this steady rhythm, you feel your sanity slowly begin to come undone until you only have one choice.

“Harry…Harry, please, can’t…can’t—”

“What, sweet girl? Need more?”

Your head quickly motions up and down. “Please…”

“All right.” He pulls back before going again, this time with a stretch a bit more prominent. “Know you can handle two, yeah?”

And he’s right, you can, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t nearly ruin you to do so. Because while two is decidedly much better than one, it’s still not nearly enough. And more importantly, it’s not the one thing you really need.

You pull harder on his hair while you writhe beneath him. Eyelids growing heavy as the sound of his fingers driving into your pussy grows louder. “Harry, please—”

“Shh.” He dips down and trails his lips along your cheek. “Gotta let me do this, baby. Just a bit longer, yeah?”

“Can’t…can’t wait—”

“Yes, you can.” His tone is firm but kind. Encouraging. “Know you can. Let me make you feel good.”

He begins to go faster. Thrusting into your cunt until your pulse is racing at about the same speed. 

And he’s beautiful. He’s so goddamn beautiful, it makes you dizzy. Hovered over you on the bed, muscles flexing with each roll of his arm. There’s a soft glow behind his head from the light of his window, illuminating his curls like a halo.

It’s rather fitting, you realize. After all, he is your guardian angel.

“Breathe,” he instructs, kissing down the curve of your throat before finding your chest. “Almost done, yeah? Doing so good for me, look so pretty taking my fingers. Know you’re gonna be so beautiful taking my cock, hm?”

Again, he dangles the image right in front of you, only to take it away before it can fully render. “Har—”

“Shh,” he says again, mouthing at the swell of your breast that’s being pushed up out of your bra. “Gonna give you another. Want you to be still for me, okay?”

With a rather disappointed huff, you oblige, watching as he scoots back just far enough to get a better visual.

Three fingers brings you to the gates of heaven. As does that look in his eye when he sees the way your pussy stretches around the larger digits. 

You can quite literally see the groan leave his body as he stares at you, lips parting in mesmerized bliss.

“You okay?” he manages to ask through a strained exhale.

“Yes,” you pant. “Can take more, I promise.”

“More, hm?”

“Yes…yes, please…”

He only hums.

Seconds go by before you’re gasping for air. Nails scraping down his scalp in desperation as he works you open. He’s incredibly focused, proud of the work he’s doing, and of the way your body bends to his will.

“There we go,” he praises softly. “Just like that. So fucking wet, sweet girl. Know it must ache.”

“It does…it does, Harry, please—”

“Got an itch you can’t scratch, yeah? Need me to reach it for you. Need me to fix it.”

“Please…”

“Almost, baby, almost.” 

You feel the fourth begin to push in and you suck in a sharp breath.

He stops. “It’s okay,” he murmurs soothingly. “Gonna take me like a good girl. Already doing so good, just a little more. Relax for me.”

You do your best to obey, allowing your limbs to fall limp beside you, despite the tightening of the coil in your stomach.

Even still, it works just enough to allow him more room. Slipping in the added digit until you see stars.

The pumping is loud and driven. Truly an exercise in restraint – for both of you – as the pace begins to quicken and the noises begin to increase.

Then, he brings his other hand into play, and brushes his thumb over your clit.

And you don’t mean to – you didn’t even realize you were so close – but you cum suddenly and with a rather lewd moan that makes his eyelids flutter.

“There,” he whispers, as though entranced. “There we go, good fucking girl.”

You can’t seem to get enough air in your lungs as you come down. And Harry chooses not to help as he finally removes both hands…and begins to pull you apart.

He exposes your clit to the colder air in order to dip down and ghost his mouth across the top. Releasing a warmer breath that sends chills straight down to your toes, making you squirm rather violently.

“Har…Har—” you gasp, fisting the blanket below. “Please, can’t…can’t—”

“Just wanna look at it,” he says simply. “S’so pretty—”

“Harry,” you whimper, writhing beneath his hold. “Harry, this is mean.”

“Mean, hm?” He smirks now and you want to die. “Well, I don’t wanna be mean, baby. Wanna be good for you, just like you are for me.”

You choose to take this as a sign to continue, sitting up just enough to reach for his belt and begin to tug it undone.

He laughs now, glancing down at your frantic fumbling with a knowing grin. “Cherry—”

“No,” you huff. “No, it’s my turn.”

To your surprise, he only hums. “Go ahead, then.”

You do, yanking the belt through each loop before tossing it aside and moving for his zipper. You don’t imagine you’ve ever worked so fast or so hard for something (specifically a cock) in your life.

The moment he’s able to wrangle his dark jeans down his legs, you’re dragging him back down. Ignoring his protests and his reminder that he still has one article of clothing left.

Instead, you work on ridding yourself of your own, unhooking your bra and tossing it into the same pile as his boxers.

And now, as you both settle into your nakedness together, every imperfection on display, you realize you’ve never been more content. Because baring your heart to him was far more vulnerable than baring your skin.

And because this is where you were always meant to be.

“Okay, baby, m’gonna start slow,” he repeats yet again, and you nod. “Just tell me if you want me to stop or slow down, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nearly whine. “I will, I swear.”

“Good. And…shit, a condom, do you…do you have a preference—”

“Pill,” you pant. “I’m on the pill, just go.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes, please. I need to feel you, Harry, please…please.”

“Okay, all right.” He takes hold of your hips and positions you where he wants you before settling between your thighs. “Deep breath, okay? Just keep your eyes on me, I’ve got you.”

Another nod – quicker, more frenzied.

He takes hold of his cock and your eyes nearly roll back. It looks so beautiful in his hand. Just as stunning as you remember, and even though you never imagined you’d find one so appealing, your mouth seems to water.

Your leg hooks around his hip, subtly urging him closer, and he obliges. Giving himself a tug or two before gently trailing the tip down your aching cunt.

He moves up and down to collect a bit of your arousal before he finds your hole and slowly begins to push inside. Sinking in about half an inch before checking with you.

You nearly scream. “It’s okay. It’s okay, keep going.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes.”

His mouth curls up into a knowing grin as he continues. Allowing his cock to slip even further into your waiting pussy while your walls slowly stretch open to accommodate him.

And you’re hardly afforded the chance to enjoy this newer sensation before he suddenly dips down to kiss you. Perhaps an attempt at distraction, although it’s hardly needed. Because now you aren’t sure what to focus on, what feeling to indulge in. From his lips, to his cock, to the way your stomach nearly caves in on itself. 

“Fucking shit, baby,” he groans against your tongue. “Shit, you’re so tight…feels so good—”

“I know,” you agree. “God, please don’t stop—”

“No. Never.” He sinks in a bit further and you dig your teeth into his bottom lip. “M’almost there, you still all right?”

“Yes…yeah, I’m perfect. Perfect, promise—”

“That’s my girl,” he nearly seethes before he suddenly drives forward, sheathing himself all the way.

You both still the moment he’s fully inside, his face now disappearing into your shoulder as though to brace himself.

And you wrap your arms around his shoulders in a desperate attempt not to let go. Allowing your body the time it needs to understand this new intrusion and find pleasure with it.

When it finally happens, the stars align.

“Okay,” you pant, gently scratching at his back to garner his attention. “Okay, go.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Need more, Har, please.”

He pulls his hips back and the whimper you release is almost feral. But it seems to do wonders for him, because his expression twists into something desperate, and you feel your chest implode.

He settles into a soft, slow pace. In and out, in and out, in synchronicity with your eager pants for more.

And there’s too much happening all at once. Too much to watch, too much to take pleasure in. 

The curls that drip down his forehead, the way his body looks as it connects with yours, the feel of his mouth going down your chest.

He’s everywhere all at once and somehow, it’s still not enough.

“Taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself. “Could taste you forever.”

He takes your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking at the pebbled skin before nipping at it gently.

You keen, arching from the bed until you nearly knock into him. “Har—”

He hums around your nipple, and you almost cry with frustration and pleasure.

Everything feels slow. Almost too slow but there’s something tender there. He’s not trying to fuck you, he’s trying to feel you. To mold your body to his and it’s rather effective. Because the way you crave him feels like heaven and hell all in the same second. 

“Harry,” you whisper, practically deranged as you drag your hands down his chest. Nails tracing patterns down the tattoos across his abdomen. “Please…”

The noise he makes in response to your scratching is almost animalistic in nature, and you nearly flinch as you quickly lower your arms. Upset to have caused him any pain.

“No,” he groans, lifting up to nudge his nose under your jaw. “No, don’t stop. Keep going.”

“What?”

“Keep…shit—” His rhythm falters and you can almost feel the way his dick seems to twitch. “Keep going, s’okay. Want you to scratch me. Want you to hurt me, baby.”

And somehow, this reminder of his pain kink feels almost like a blessing. “Yeah?”

He nods faintly before attempting to resume his pace, and you happily take the lead.

Your fingers hesitantly return to his broad torso. Delicately tracing the muscles as they roll beneath your touch until you gingerly begin to press in. The sharp edge of your nails dancing across the expanse of his already torn skin.

In turn, he releases a strained noise that becomes lost beneath the grateful kisses to your collarbone. And you realize how much he truly enjoys it.

He gives you complete control of his body, of his pleasure. Because the harder you scratch at his scars, the more urgent his thrusts become. Until the sounds echoing around the room begin to echo between your ears. And the slapping of his hips into yours is inescapable.

“Feels so good, Har,” you nearly cry, lifting up just enough to kiss him quickly. “You’re so good to me. Always.”

“Shit.” His eyes about roll back before there’s a sharp snap of his cock into your eager cunt. “Always gonna take care of you. Promise—”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know, I love you.”

You say it now, and suddenly, everything changes.

It doesn’t matter if he’s heard you say it before or if he already knows because the look in his eye nearly guts you. 

He’s so…happy. So incredibly happy and endlessly enchanted that he begins to grin. “You love me,” he repeats. Not a question.

You smile as well, and the sentiment seems to explode out of you. “I love you.”

And it’s perfect, this moment. This connection of two bodies and two souls into one. The way you stumbled through the dark until you found each other, and it makes sense. Everything makes sense now with him. Clarity in the truest form.

“I love you,” he echoes, and he means it. You can feel it in every thrust, every syllable, every brush of his lips against yours. “I fucking love you, Cherry—”

“Please,” you gasp, leg dropping to the bed while your arms follow suit. “Har, please—”

“Gonna cum for me again?” He begins to go faster, chasing after your orgasm. “Let me feel you around my cock, sweet girl, come on. Already feel so good—”

“Can’t…can’t—”

“Can’t what, hm? Can’t hold it?” It’s almost sadistic the way he speaks, but you know he’s merely enamored. “I know. I know, it’s okay. You can cum for me, don’t have to wait. Promise I won’t be mad.”

You aren’t sure what you’re about to do, all you know is that you never want this feeling to end. This moment, this security. You just want to touch him, and look at him, and taste him for the rest of your life. 

He interrupts your silence as a request for something more, and he offers it in the form of his dominance.

He takes hold of your wrist and hoists it above your head, pinning it to the mattress before settling his weight atop your chest. Trapping you beneath him until you have no other choice but to indulge in everything he has to give.

And you do.

“Sweet little cunt is all mine, isn’t it?” he purrs, teeth nipping below your ear as his fingers intertwine with yours. Holding your hand as he keeps it caged to the bed. “Spent all this time just waiting for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes…yes, fuck, Harry—”

“You were so patient. So good.” He’s growing more determined – sloppy – and your head begins to spin. “God, but you just needed me, yeah? Needed me to make it better—”

“Better,” you repeat almost mindlessly.

“Needed me to erase him—”

“Please—”

“Leave my mark. My fucking mark—”

“Harry—”

“You were never his,” he grits, and you aren’t sure who he’s really trying to convince. “You were never fucking his, you were always mine. And he knew it—”

“Shit, I can’t…can’t—"

His other thumb moves for your clit and you feel tears fill your eyes. “Yes, you can. Know you can, baby, and you will. Always do so good for me, gonna take my cum, aren’t you—”

There’s a strain on your muscles from the way they’re being stretched above your head, but you realize there’s something satisfying about the subtle pull. And when it’s coupled with a firm pinch of the sensitive nerves between the rough pads of his fingers, you start to lose it.

“There – shit – there you go,” he inhales, glancing over your face before watching the way his cock slips in and out of your pussy. Dripping in your arousal and smearing across your thighs. “Take me, just like that. Feels so fucking good, sweet girl, keep going…keep—”

You cry out and writhe helplessly beneath him. Pulling your arms from out of his hold in order to sling them around his neck and cement yourself to his chest.

And you have no choice but to succumb to the pleasure before you feel him follow.

“Fuck—” He surges forward, burying himself in you completely, moans melting into your feverish skin as you cling to each other. “Shit…I love you. I really fucking love you, Cherry.”

You smile lazily before bringing his mouth to yours. “I love you, too.”

He kisses you. All through the moment and then some. Until the sun has disappeared and the moon has been hung between the stars.

And you know that you have never been happier than you are in this moment, right now.

Just you, and him, and a pussy full of cum.

“Darling, we've got some at table six, could you go check on ‘em?”

With a quick nod of your head, you readjust your apron, and grab the notepad Owen is sliding toward you before slipping from the kitchen. 

You find the eager customers waiting just beside the counter and take their order with a charming grin and a promise to slip them some leftover pie.

The diner isn’t too busy tonight, and you’re grateful. Now that you’re on dessert duty, you spend a majority of your shifts working on new recipes and finalizing the specials for the coming week.

Truth be told, you rather enjoy this new task. It keeps your mind occupied and your thoughts from drifting.

And baking is your happy place. Your sense of calm amidst a sea of uncertainty, almost rivaling your own true source of serenity.

Harry.

Once you’ve returned to the kitchen, you sneak a glance at the clock. 12:06 A.M. He should be here soon. Probably tired. Perhaps a bit stressed. Hopefully no worse for wear than usual.

Fight nights always tend to leave you on edge. You know he’s more than capable of taking care of himself, but you can’t help but worry. It’s what you do best.

Still, you’re happy for him. Because while pies are your happy place, the boxing ring is his. He’s only ever wanted to fight – to make money, channel his anger into something good. And perhaps it’s not a sustainable lifestyle, but for right now, it’s what he wants to do.

And you respect his choice. You’ll respect any choice he makes, as long as he’s the one making it. Instead of it being made for him.

Besides, without Jesse there, you find that Harry tends to have a lot more fun. He leaves the fights with a busted lip but a bright smile, and it makes your heart swell until it feels as though there’s no more room in your chest.

Last you heard, Jesse left town. Harry refused to tell you what really went down at the club once the other members found out, but you decided that was probably for the best. No matter what fond memories you still have of your childhood friend, he’s not who he used to be. And you won’t ever be able to change that.

But for the first time in a long time…you’re okay with that.

The clock continues to tick the seconds away, and with each passing one, you grow a tad more anxious. Your guardian angel is late. At least by a few minutes, and you scurry about the diner as your thoughts race about a mile a moment.

And then, just as you’re readjusting the cake stands and tidying up the dessert display, you see it.

Your not-so-strange stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in that familiar, white gauze, and are stained with streaks of red.

But he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

And you grin wider than you have all day.

“Hi, Cherry,” he calls the moment his head lifts, allowing you a better look at his stunningly damaged face as you scurry closer. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you nearly giggle, slipping off your apron before sliding into the seat across from him. “How was it?”

“Easy,” he snorts, but there’s a sparkle in his eye. “And I have good news.”

“Oh?”

“M’off for the next few days. Thought you could come over…and not leave.”

You laugh as you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah? Good.” He glances down at your interlocked fingers almost fondly. “Hey, you know what I just realized?”

“What?”

Now, a mischievous expression begins to form. “I never introduced myself.”

And for some reason…you can’t help but laugh.

“So,” he begins, rather charmingly as he raises your hand in order to shake it formally, “hi.”

And you really fucking love him.

“I’m Harry Styles.”

I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE AT THE END!! This has been such a fun story, and SUCH a wild ride that I feel very lucky to have gotten to take with so many incredibly wonderful people!!

Thank you so much to everyone who's followed along and left the nicest comments or notes!! I cannot tell you what it means to me!!

Harry and Cherry will def be back for extras soon, but until then...I love you 🥹♥️ Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Previous Part:

~ Uppercut*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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[ozzgin]

hi! I'm the anon who said that Daitou is my #1 sweetheart, and I saw your post talking about time-skip Daitou kind in dilf vibes... I'm interested, take all of my money right now !!

also wondering how Daitou would react with a darling who wants kids 💭💭 imagine of she is having a hugeee baby fever ( not me projecting whattt)

Turning this into a general "Would the yakuza men want children?" and other bedroom habits. There's a more detailed answer for Daitou here. Content: female reader (pregnancy talk), mildly NSFW, fluff

You may think of Boss as old-fashioned, but he's seen a fair amount of depravity back in the day. Before gambling was deemed illegal in Japan, he'd owned several casinos in big districts like Ginza and Kabukichō, and consequently spent a lot of time in various parlors. Unlike many of his men, however, he never really cared much for adult entertainment. In his drunken rants he used to say that women would be his downfall, and no one would want to be involved with him, anyways.

He might be into you calling him daddy, although you should expect a lot of dad jokes to go with it. He’s a silly old man like that. Could be interested in shibari, because it takes a lot of patience and skill and he’d probably enjoy taking his time and gazing at you after each knot. It’s quiet and intimate, and he gets to tease you about it afterwards, especially if it’s an arrangement to go under your clothes. “What’s the matter, (Y/N) love? Tongue tied?”

His recurring humor around his age makes you wonder if he’d even be interested in children. When you finally bring up the topic, Boss is very casual about it. “Sure”, he’ll say with a grin, “whatever the missus wants.” You suspect he’s not taking you seriously, but after settling you on his lap and having a hearty laugh about it, he’ll conclude, this time with confidence: “Have a look outside this room. See all those rascals? I raised them! Ya think I can’t handle a bunch of kids?”

Daitou can be surprisingly (and unintentionally) kinky, especially if you encourage him to. He’ll apologize the day after for being too rough, even if you tell him it's fine and you quite literally asked for it (See Valentine's Day incident). Overall, though, I’d say it depends entirely on you. He can be dominant or submissive, according to your wishes. You can go all out with him, he’s sturdier than most and takes great pride in it. If you’re into more extreme hobbies like knife play, you’re certainly in good hands.

Daitou lives in the moment and hasn't really planned too far ahead. Such is the life of a yakuza: you never know when you might lose a limb or more in the next gang fight. He's therefore quite surprised by your proposal of having children in the future. Is it even something realistic for someone like him? On the other hand, it's hard to refuse that enthusiastic smile you're flashing at him each time the topic comes up. "Do you, uh...", he begins one day while looking at baby toys in the store. He fidgets with his prosthetic eye nervously. "Do you really think I'd make a good dad? Heh."

Kazuya can be quite kinky and loves teasing you in public about it. Last time you were hanging out with him and his underlings, you happened to pass by a park bench you'd recently used during your nightly strolls together. “This location is familiar”, he’ll hum with a smirk. “Isn’t this where we…ah. Nevermind.” Despite your frequent protests, he always struggles to keep his mouth shut. Can you really blame him for wanting to brag to others? You're an undeniable catch.

"Kids?" he repeats with a raised eyebrow. Good question, although something he's considered many times already. What, you thought he wouldn't notice your curious glances whenever some woman walks by with a baby stroller? He pretends to ponder your suggestion and declares after a long moment: "Well, you'd certainly make a great milf, and I obviously can't have anyone else do the honors." He picks you up with a mischievous grin on his face. "When do we start?"

[Main Story] | [More Yakuza]

[thatnonameuser]

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 5.

"But about your mom, could you tell me about her? She sounds like a really nice lady." Is what you asked.

Because you couldn't help but be a little curious. This is so alien to you that the idea of Deuce loving his mother in a completely wholesome way sounds so outlandish in a world of obsessive love is so hard to comprehend that you can't help but be interested.

Deuce's eyes light up like fireworks at your question. Sure, you might be endearing yourself to him more like this, but still, your pickings on information in this world are kind of slim, so you'll take whatever you can get.

Especially considering the bad ending of this misadventure ends with you sending the rest of your life as someone’s possession.

"Y-You want to hear about her?" Deuce's eyes light up at you, wanting to talk about his mother.

"If you want to." You repeat with the same enthusiasm.

"W-well, she's amazing. She works really hard and...." Deuce's speaks enthusiastically about his mom and all the fond childhood memories he has of her. All the way back to Sam's shop to get another carton of eggs, and all the way back to Main Street. It's shockingly normal, the stories he tells about her, and it has to be one of the sweetest of things you've witnessed thus far.

Until you remember the fact that means Deuce had a relatively normal mother-son relationship, meaning his yandere behavior was caused by something else or, even worse, is intertwined in his very being.

Back on your world, usually, people who became obsessed with someone to the point of doing horrible acts to keep someone to themselves had some sort of trauma or past relationship that pushed them into doing such horrible things.

But so far, everyone that you met was moderately normal. They acted in a way that was completely normal or had some quirks that were somewhat normal in your world. Like Cater's social media addiction, for example.

If they are normal, does that mean that they, no, does that mean that everyone here was just born this way? And they just accepted this behavior was normal? There has to be something more to it, right?

You're struck with a thought as Deuce is talking. He hasn't told you about his dad yet. That's not to say that it's wrong that he doesn't have a dad. It's just for a world that romanisticises a love life and marriage that never ends even when one side of it really, really wants to, it's odd that Deuce's mom is a single mother. Did her darling pass away or something?

Well, it's a question you'd like answered. Because maybe it will answer your other question. The death of a parent is deeply traumatic for a child and can maybe a way to explain the growing madness of the world you're in. So, there is no time like the present to ask.

"Uh, hey, Deuce," you say, and he’s quiet, ready to hear whatever you have to say. You swallow roughly, you hope that this won't go wrong,"... I know that this might be a difficult topic, but....how do you feel about your dad?"

The small smile on Deuce's face sours immediately. You can see anger in his eyes, as if the very reminder of his father's existence is capable of working him up into a fury. Ok, so that was a sore subject.

You quickly backtrack, "I'm sorry if that was a sore subject-"

He shakes his head, but the silent rage that you'd seen before is back as he explains, "I never met him, and he should be grateful I never did."

Shit, were you right in thinking that Deuce's dad was a darling. Had he run away, and Deuce hated him for breaking his mother's heart!?

"You must hate him a lot, huh?" You say uneasily. Given Deuce's delinquent days, he probably would have no qualms killing his father if he got the chance.

"More than anything. After how much he hurt my mom..." he trails off, voice deep with anger.

"How does that work? I thought darlings were the powerless ones, how did he hurt your mom?" Now Deuce is the confused one, he gives you a funny look.

"Prefect, I think you're confused."

"What? But I thought-"

"_____, my mom's a darling...."

Wait, that's possible!? "B-but I thought -" You had thought that darlings basically had no say in how their lives went once in captivity. So wait, if Deuce's mom is a darling, then his dad is...."Oh. Oh! So you hate your dad because of what he did to your mom?"

When Deuce nods, you can feel a rush of relief. So a life in captivity isn't the end all of all darlings and it is possible, and more importantly legal, to escape yanderes. Thank the Seven for that one, and apologies to Deuce's mom for the misunderstanding.

Now, all you have to do is figure the escaping part out before you're saddled with a child. If things get that bad, at least.

"So, wait, how does that work? I thought darlings had to stay with their yanderes?"

Deuce shakes his head, "We're from the Queendom of Roses, and they're pretty strict about that stuff so.....wait, is it not the same in your world?"

"What? No, why?" You say almost automatically. Your world has to be the farthest thing from this one.

"It's just -" He trails off before changing his words,"I've been wondering if your world is anything like ours... But do you not have darling laws in your world?"

"Well...." How can you put this in a way that can't be misunderstood? Your world doesn't believe in whatever psychotic idea this world bases their love lives on. So how can you say it that won't make you sound like a darling.

Maybe you could be honest. Or at least, sort of.

"Well, to be honest, my world doesn't really like the whole darling thing. They think it's abusive."

Deuce looks completely flabbergasted, as if you told him something incredulous. "But that’s not true!"

"But they think it is, besides in a way I kind of get it."

Now he looks confused. "What do you mean?"

"Deuce, would you do anything that your dad did to your mom to your future darling?"

"No." He says, completely serious. "I never would."

Well, it's time to crush that idea. "But what if you did it on accident? Maybe you might think that you're protecting them or loving them, but you’re actually hurting them unintentionally.....Do you really want to risk that?"

His serious look on his face falters, and you don't let up. "B-Back in my world, all the stuff you learn about Darlings is illegal. So we're not allowed to do anything to get them no matter how much we want to. It's because everyone thought our treatment of them was too harsh, so they made it illegal."

"But that's not fair," He argues, "what about-"

You aren't going to let him talk about how bad it is for the kidnappers and abusers, maybe a change in perspective will help your argument. "It's not really fair, but I get it. I wouldn't want to be stolen from my family and be forced to love someone else. Would you?"

The look he gives you is conflicted. He's, at the very least, considering what you said.

Is there a chance?

The slightest chance that he can be persuaded out of his yandere ways? Does he care about his future darling want to even risk making her unhappy?

"Prefect?"

"Yes, Deuce?"

"If I-" His eyes avoid yours as he rephrases, "If you were my darling, would you hate me for doing that to you? Taking you away from your friends and family?"

That was- that was one hell of a hypothetical.

Did he know about your status, or is he just using you as an example? Either way...."Would you hate me if I did that to you and your mom?" You dodge the question. You were always going to dodge that question. You were no darling, no matter how much this world says otherwise.

"But pre- _____," Deuce pushes you for a response, as if he needs one to live the rest of his life, "Would you hate me?"

"I would." You say point-blank. And it's the truth. He turns away from you, not wanting to meet your eyes. Still, you're prepared to rub salt into that wound. You give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. If he feels guilty, then good. Feel guilty. If he was considering it. Then now he probably won't. And he turns back to you "But you wouldn't do that to me, would you? After all, you're my friend Deuce."

He doesn't reply. Out of guilt, or contemplation. You don't care. And if it fixes him, then you need to be mean about it.

"C'mon, Ace is probably wondering where we are." He nods, still silent.

Maybe there's a chance that you can fix them, just maybe.....

....you weren't cut out to be a baker.

After another grueling hour of making and topping that gargantuan tart, your arms hurt so badly that they felt like falling off. A whole day of exercise is going to make you real sore tomorrow.

How Trey did this for his dorm without pay, you don't understand. Because you didn't even want to do this and you don't even get to eat this delicious looking tart. Thanks again, Ace...

"Finished!" The victory cheer that Ace and Grim let out is the polar opposite of Deuce's.

"Fin..ished." You can't tell if this depressed cheer is because of all the hard work you've had to do, or because of that conversation you had on the way here.

"Did something happen to him while you were shopping?"

"He's still in shock." Oh, probably because he had his whole world being being flipped. But since he clearly loves his mother, you were a little surprised that he was this upset from it. The truth hurts, but it's probably for the best that you let that stab wound scab with a extra helping of salt. "Better let him work through this one himself."

"For sixteen years, I was so sure...." And for sixteen years, you were lied to. If that's what he was talking about.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm pretty beat. Making tarts sure takes it outta you."

"Yes, and now we can just give this to Riddle, and this headache is over." And it'll probably won't, cause life is such a dick.

"Hey fam!" And you were right. Another headache comes into the kitchen. Yay! "You look wrecked. Are the tarts done?"

"Ooh, those look sooo cute. Lemme snap a quick pic for Magicam!"

"Wa-" You don't even have a chance to move out of the frame before the bright flash goes off. Again.

"What, NOW you decide to show up?"

"I just came to see how hard my little newbs were working." Or to reap the rewards of all your hard work. But out of everything this could be much worse.

"It's tough work if you're not used to it. But there's no better cure for the ails of fatigue than something sweet from the oven!"

"Ooh finally!" You cheer, clapping your hands. Out of everything you went through in one day, something good will finally come all this BS.

"Pretty funny how you managed to show right when it was ready to eat, Cater." Free food means you don't are about Cater's shenanigans. Unless he takes too much then you're going to be mad.

"Mmm...That smells so good!" For what feels like the first time today you actually agree with Grim.

You take your first bite, and you feel like you've been set on cloud nine. It's delicious. Light, creamy, sugary and nutty. If this world's priorities weren't ass backwards you would consider staying just to try all the desserts it had to offer. You can't help the little jumps you make as you take your second bite.

"Rich in flavour, yet not too sweet...It's like chestnuts are dancing across my tongue!"

"Is that...a good thing?"

"Of course, it is! What I've give to eat these forever!" You say, dreamily. No wonder Riddle threw Ace out. You would've if they ate one of your tarts and they tasted like this.

"Oh, Trey! You gotta do the thing." Wait, what was Cater talking about?

"What thing?" You ask mid-chew.

"Oh...that thing." Ok, now you're spooked. What thing?

"Uh, Wanna fill me in here?"

"What's everyone's favorite food?" Kay. Weird thing to say after a mystery thing enters the chat. Wait now Cater's got you doing it, damn it.

Ace, Deuce and Grim all list off their favorite foods, "What about you, _____?" You respond in turn, with your favorite food, still what does that have to do with-

" All right, you've got it.....Let's 'Paint the Roses'!" A spark of magic goes off, but otherwise does nothing.

Regardless, you hit with another wave of deja vu. A set of clubs, and specifically, the three of clubs had been painting the roses red in your dream. So why was your dream connecting with real life?

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"Take another bite of your tart and see." You, hesitantly, take a small bite of your tart. But you don't taste the chestnuts, or the cream, or the even the sugar.

You taste home. You taste the birthdays you had with this on the menu. The sad nights where this was the only thing that could cheer you up. That one restaurant that made it perfectly and the nights you tried and failed to recreate it in your kitchen. It's so perfect it brings tears to your eyes.

The taste reminds you of home. A home you can't go back to. That has your friends and family waiting for you. Oh seven, are they looking for you? Are they worried? Are they panicking because you're gone? Even if they saw you leave, who the hell would believe a magic carriage poofed a kid out of the known universe?!

"_____? You're crying..." You instinctively reach up and wipe it away, you really were crying.

"S-Sorry, it really is my favorite food and....and it tastes like home." You say with a sad smile. "H-How did you do that?"

"It's my signature spell. Technically, it's 'overwriting characteristics'. I can change taste, color, smell and whatever. It only lasts for a little while." Well that's both cool and dangerous. Cool, because you can change so many things for a short time. And dangerous, because that whatever is carrying a ton. Does that mean he can change the characteristics of a person? Or a completely erase something from reality for a while? Curiouser and curiouser. "But it is kinda like covering up the real thing hence, 'painting'."

"If I had magic like that, I could be eatin' canned tuna every meal of every day!"

"You would do that, wouldn't you, Grim?"

"That's way better than Riddle's stupid collar magic."

"You love tempting fate, don't you Grim. The last thing we need right now is him popping outta nowhere again." You scratch your fingers through his fur, with a chuckle.

Trey doesn't seem to agree with Grim's compliment, "Oh, Riddle's magic's in a whole other league. His signature spell is a weapon. Mine's just a childish prestidigitation."

Is he insecure about it, or something? His magic is pretty cool, and the only reason you're really afraid of it is because of the fact that changing characteristics is pretty broad.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up. Yours is cool in your own way. His is just a little.....dictator-y."

Trey smiles at you, "Thanks, _____." Well, isn't that great. Now all we have to do is-

"Speaking of Riddle-it's too late to give him these now. Let's call it a day and do it tomorrow." Spoke too soon. Great, just great. You think the compliment would have buttered him up a little. Well, at least you just have to barricade your door.

"Don't forget that tomorrow's the unbirthday party. You don't want to be late."

Yeah you're have to go. Mr. Stickler-for-the-Rules Rosehearts wants you to attend so that he can keep an eye on you. Also you should probably go to make sure Ace doesn't fuck it up and get permanently kicked out.

Still, you aren’t looking forward to seeing that red tyrant in all his glory. But when the price to pay is having Ace living in your dorm until you graduate, you have to do it regardless.

"Yu, can I crash with you again? It doesn’t look like I'll be allowed in my own dorm tonight."

"It's not really like I can say no..." You murmur, which is true because you're afraid if angering him, but Deuce and Grim actually come to your aid.

"It isn't right to keep mooching off of ______, Ace."

"Yeah, it ain't! If you wanna stay tonight, you gotta pay for the privilege! Ten cans of tuna!"

"What? Guess I'm sleeping outside, then." That's all it took? Really?

"Why don't you go and stay at Yu's dorm," Well, that was a given. Thanks Trey, you didn't expect him to open his big fat mouth, especially after all the kindness he spared you and you in turn, thought you at least buttered him up," -too, Deuce, so you can keep an eye on him?" What.

Great, now you have two people. Two unwanted guests in your dorm, fan-fucking-tastic. That's two people wondering your dorms halls, and sneaking around.

"What fun for you. Ooh, maybe I'll come too!" Aw fuck no. Two was already overcrowding, three was way too many. "What do you say, Yu?" How about, fuck no Cater. You already going have two loose cannons roaming in your dorm, you don't need third.

Trey says what you can't for you much too your relief. "No pass for you." Thank you Trey, even if he did unintentionally, or intentionally since you don't know his motivations, hang you out to dry, that kept on liability to your freedom off your back. "Sorry to dump them all on you, _____. At least it's just for tonight."

"It's no problem." It's very much a problem, but you can't do anything about it. "See you tomorrow."

Till tomorrow, just a little longer it seems.

Just a little longer.

You were exhausted as soon as you went back to Ramshackle.

Having two yanderes in your house was two way too many, but with the day's exhaustion staring you directly in to the face. Half a night of sleep mixed with too much exercise, too much work, too much spent adrenaline, and too many emotions running high is a exhausting combination. And when it finally set in, you could barely keep you eyes open long enough to walk back to Ramshackle. So you were scooped up by Deuce, after a three minute argument between Ace and Deuce, and carried the rest of the way.

The way back to Ramshackle is uneventful, save for Grim's 'demands' for what he wanted for dinner now that the extra tart from earlier was well buried in his belly.

After feeding Grim like the cat he wasn't, you barely had the energy and strength to keep your eyes home as you made dinner. Thank the seven that instant noodles exist here. You didn't really want to cook for your two unexpected guests, but you just want to go to bed. The sooner, the better.

You also tuned out whatever conversation Ace and Deuce were having as you all ate in the lounge, way too tired to actively listen to it. If they asked you anything, you couldn't really remember what they said, you'll worry about that tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow, Ace and Deuce hopefully wouldn't bother you tonight, everyone's tired because of today so all you can hope for is that you had a peaceful night tonight.

But that didn't happen, because it's happened again.

Or it's better to say that that strange dream is happening again.

You remember drifting off in the warmth of your scratchy sheets, exhausted from the days events. Only to wake up just like you did last night. With that floaty feeling, making you feel like you were flying in the air and swimming in mud at the same time.

Unnerved, you throw off the covers to escape that uncomfortable feeling. But when you reach out to feel the blankets, you don't feel the scratchy fabric against your palm. Or the lumps of the old springs in the mattress or the warmth of Grim's sleeping body.

You place a hand of his fur but reel back in confusion when you don’t feel the softness of fur or the warmth of the flames on his ears.

"This is....it's a dream, right?" You ask to no one in particular. You get only silence in reply.

But like last time, the mirror glows its pale white light. It calls to you, it beckons you.

So are your dreams trying to show you something, like last time. It had told you about the painting the roses, and you did meet the three of clovers today. So maybe it's trying to warn you of something, something destined to happen tomorrow.

Well, the only way you'll be able to find out is if you try the mirror.

"Do you want me to go through?" You ask, and surprisingly, the mirror ripples in response.

Hesitant, you place your palm on the front of the mirror and, much more gently this time, it pulls you through.

Like last time, you're blinded by a too bright white light, and then you're on soft grass.

The world looks like a more animated version of Heartslabyul now, and you're stuck in what has to be the center of the rose maze.

You turn around, and the mirror that transported you is half buried among the surrounding hedges, showing your bedroom on the other side, just like last time.

But unlike last time, there's no one here.

The greyscale hedge maze is full of half and fully red roses, but there is no one here. Strange.

There are no card soldiers, no Alice and no Queen of Hearts, just en empty wonderland-

You freeze as you feel something hit your foot. You look down and-

He's tiny. That's not even an insult. The little guy is so tiny that you could have stepped on him if you weren't paying attention. He's dressed in a red cloak and has a proportionally tiny crown. And he's desperate pulling on your pants leg to drag you back to otherside of your mirror.

"You're the King of Hearts..." You realise, and the tiny king lets go of you, eyes widening at your recognition.

And then he goes back to yanking you back with all his force. Which isn't much, and he falls over twice in his attempts.

"Hey, wait a second. Why are you pulling me back." Is he trying to make you leave, but the mirror wanted to you come back here for something so could you even leave?

The Red King mimes something rapidly in panic, but he doesn’t say a word. Is he mute?

"Calm down." You object, reaching out to do.....whatever was needed to soothe him. Sure, he's small enough to pick up in your hand, but it's obvious that he's concerned about you. Maybe this has to-

You're cut off mid thought as soon as you wrap your hand around him, another light burst out even more blinding than the first, and you feel the tiny body and fabric in your grasp grow so rapidly, it's almost likely it was magic.

Which is because this is a dream.

You wipe the blinding light lingering in your eyes away with a groan, just as a pair of hands, this time normal sized, grab you by your wrists and pull you in the direction of the mirror.

<You need to leave!> The person sounds so desperate as he pulls you, <If she finds you, she's going to cut off your head! I'm just trying to help you!> You lurch forward as you struggle to blink away the remnants of the flash in your eyes.

You're thrown forward against something. It's hard, cold, and smooth to the touch. You try to pull away from the hard surface, but as soon as you rear back two hands on your back, push you forward. And then your vision finally clears.

<B-But I just saw you- I-It was fine a minute ago.>

What you landed upon is the mirror leading back to your room. From here, you can see Grim dozing away in your bed. The mirror had hardened as if stopping you from leaving till you've accomplished what it sent you to do.

But from this angle, a glare of stray light also hits the cold glass. Because in that's reflection, you can see a face that's all to familiar and at the same time not at all.

The person pushing you is dressed in a royal grabe, colored red, black, and gold, and it's covered with heart motifs. From his shirt to the crimson red jacket on his shoulders, from his buttons to the choker on his neck, tiny red hearts cover his clothing. He's still wearing a red cloak, but now it hangs as a cape rather than serving as his whole outfit. He's a little on the shorter side, about Riddle’s height but slightly taller.

And he looks panicked. No, panicked is an understatement. He looks like he's going to have anxiety attack followed by a mental breakdown.

He's stepped back to think ,or rather grasp helplessly at his ginger hair in abject horror. He's close the actually pulling it out, too. Surprisingly, the crown on his head has managed to stay put despite his frenzied pulling.

He's spiraling into a dark abyss of frenzied muttering. <What am I going to do!? She's going to cut off her head, and then the guards' heads and then my head, and everyone's heads!> Is that what you sound like when you're spiraling? Because he looks and sounds like he's on his last nerve and that nerve is fraying very fast.

Wait.

"Hey.....hey!" You manage to intervene somewhere between his ramblings of heads, and he shuts up as soon as you raise your voice.

<Y-Y-Yes?> He looks at you in fear, as if expecting you to be angry. If your theory is right, then, you can't help but feel sorry for him.

"You are the King of Hearts, darling of the Queen of Hearts?"

You hate the way your stomach sinks when he nods.

[loui3e]

Guilty Pleasure

It’s been awhile since you’ve turned up the dial’

Worst!Logan x Reader

Summary: After a first date gone wrong Logan finally confesses the truth.

A/n: I might make a smutty part 2 if you all enjoy this. Has been proofread.

Warnings: A sprinkle of angst, miscommunication (I know), all is solved in the end. Kinda suggestive.

Words: 795

First dates are odd things.

Scary even, especially with a man who you think doesn’t want a bit to do with you.

You’re convinced Wade put him up to this because there’s a scowl permanently etched into his facial features.

You won’t let this get you down though, I mean you’re still on a date with a man that you’ve had a massive crush on since he’s moved in next door. Better than nothing you suppose.

You sip your milkshake, your hands awkwardly tapping the table in an attempt to fill the uncomfortable silence.

“What do you do?”

Your head shoots up, eyes wide. That’s the first time he’s spoken since you’ve arrived to this diner besides telling the waiter what he wanted. His words are gruff, almost reluctant but its words nonetheless.

“Uh, what do I do? Um, art.” You stumble over your words, not use to the sound of your voice after all this quiet. Logan raises a brow from across you.

“Art?”

“Yeah, like I paint.”

“Traditionalist then?”

You chuckle and shake your head, “I guess so.” There’s a new bout of silence, a little more comfortable.

“What do you do?” You reflect the words back, a little happier than his. Shifting your plate out of the way and setting your head on your hand so your full attention is on him.

Logan wouldn’t consider himself a particular interesting person, sure he’s got some stories to tell but those are all circumstantial. But your eyes are on him; bright and curious.

You’re just a naturally curious person, but also partly crushing on him. He’s certainly handsome. You’ve seen him on the halls of your apartment complex, tall and broad. You could fantasise about him all day.

“Not much.”

Your daydream is cut short.

“Surely something?”

Logan’s fully realised he really doesn’t do a lot, now that he thinks about. He expects you to retreat back into disinterest but you don’t, you pry instead.

“Everyone has something, what’s your calling?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. That scowl sneaks back onto his face as he sits back against his seat arms crossed.

You think you’ve might’ve said something wrong, but not for long before the waiter comes over with the bill.

It’s not until you see him at a bar do you speak next, you haven’t really seen him since the date. “Logan,” you call as you take a seat beside him, smiling timidly.

He gives you a nod of acknowledgment. Logan feels a little bad for avoiding you after that date, but after your conversation he doesn’t quite think he’s worth your time.

“We hadn’t spoken after that date, I don’t wanna pry but did I say something wrong? I mean I know Wade put you up to this so you probably didn’t even want to go.”

“What? Wade didn’t put me up to this,” Logan speaks with hard honesty, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But I thought- you looked so disinterested.” You lean in closer to him, head cocked to the side. His eyes met yours and he feels a pang of guilt.

God, he’s an idiot, it didn’t even occur to him it he looked like that. “No, not at all,” he takes a swig of whiskey before continuing. “I just, haven’t been on a date in awhile. I don’t think you’d like me much once you got to know me.”

Your jaw falls open as you look at him before you start laughing. Relief washing over your features, and partly at the thought that you wouldn’t like Logan once you got to know him.

“Logan I’ve been crushing on you since you moved in, you can’t scare me off.”

“You’d be surprised, sweetheart.” Logan places a bill down onto the table for his drink before getting up to leave. He’s trying to put up a wall between you and him.

“Logan I’m serious,” you shout after him following him out of the bar. Logan turns on his heel to face you a before you can think you’re pulling him in by the lapels of his jacket and crashing your lips against his. You pull back, stunned.

“Oh my god, I didn’t even think-“ now it’s his turn to take you by surprise because his kissing you back. Your arms wrap around his neck, his walls crumble under your touch.

He tastes like cheap whiskey and smoke. An addictive taste that you’re sure you’ll be coming back for; like a cigarette.

“I guess you were serious,” Logan chuckles, breathing heavily.

“I can show you how even more serious I am, if you come back to mine,” you grin up at him, still wrapped up in his arms and the electricity of the moment.

“I’d like that.”

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day three

prompt: thunderstorm pairing: max/oscar word count: 500

Being invited to travel on AirMax doesn’t erase the fact that Oscar fucking hates flying. Sure, the seats are comfy, and someone’s offered him a glass of champagne before they have even well and truly made it to the runway, but fancy or not, an airplane still has to get into the air.

And Oscar had many feelings about that part. None of them positive.

Across from him, Lando and Carlos are caught up in some kind of discussion about the race. Somewhere behind him, George is trying to convince Charles and Alex to join another round of his Uno world championship, that Oscar is pretty sure George only keeps hosting because he keeps winning.

And next to him, bafflingly, is Max Verstappen himself, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone.

He had expected Max to sit down next to Charles, or Lando, or any of the people he actually seems close with, but he never even hesitated before he sat down next to Oscar. It’s. Oscar doesn’t really know what to do with that information.

The plane engines rumble to life below them. The downside of a private plane is that it’s smaller. You feel all of the vibrations much more. Oscar might consider flying economy class for the rest of his F1 career if only for that reason. His hands tighten on the arm rests.

“Did you know,” Max says, right next to him, looking at something on his phone. “The average thunderstorm last 30 minutes?”

“Uh,” Oscar says. He hadn’t known that. He also does not care about thunderstorms much right now. The plane jerks forward, faster faster faster.

“Yeah. And they’re an average of 24 kilometers in width. Also there’s 1800 thunderstorms happening at any moment. 16 million per year. And yet we find them rare.”

“I guess?” Oscar asks. He turned to look at Max now, confused as why he keeps going on about thunderstorms.

“Are they? Rare? In Melbourne?” Max looks up from his phone, genuinely curious.

Oscar thinks back on his childhood. Huddled in front of the window whenever the sky started rumbling, begging to be able to see the slightest flash of lightning, being excited when he did. “Not much. Really like them, though. The flashes are like. Cool.” It’s a bit silly to admit. But Max smiles, wide and encouraging.

“Me too,” he says, then looks away and out of the window. “Oh, look at that,” he says, eyes twinkling when he turns back to Oscar. “We’re in the air.”

Oscar leans over, does a double take. They are. And Oscar didn’t even notice. He turns to Max, to thank him, but Max has gone back to scrolling through his phone.

Oscar observes him, process what Max has just done for him. It’s. Well. He has fallen in love with people for less.

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

taedros tresdros

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

part one: taedros taedros ☆ part two: taedros twodros wc: 2.2k reader: afab reader (pretty sure no specific gender mentioned but putting this disclaimer just in case!) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- also some angst and some fluff :) summary: uh-oh... you fell for your best friend taerae. but was it all in vain after he's ghosted you the past two weeks? *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ITS DONEEE! you will notice i've went with "taedros tresdros" for the title. decided to keep all three parts with taedros as the first word lol. this is the finale for this little series and i really hope you like this ending i've made lol. i am so happy you've all enjoyed taedros taedros -- stay tuned for more works soon (hopefully) xx

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, fingering and oral (reader receiving), cumming in pants, eavesdropping/voyeurism by reader but it's only out of shock/anger, swearing, lots of innuendo in this one lmao... i think that's it!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“so, the ring finger goes here?” you hear a feminine voice ask; ear pressed gently to taerae’s door to hear better. just a few moments ago, you’d been taking deep, steadying breaths as you walked through the entrance to your best friend’s dorm building on your way to finally confront him.

something that was so familiar now made your heart race with anxiety. 

but when you’d rounded the corner to taerae’s room, you were surprised to find the door shut almost all the way. usually taerae left his door wide open, even when he was playing the guitar or getting changed or sleeping. in fact, his dorm-mates told you one night when you were leaving that the only time taerae made an effort to close it was when you were over... you couldn’t hear any noise coming from his room, which made you all the more curious as to what was going on in there. 

walking up to his door, you’d seen it was propped open just a bit by one of taerae’s shoes. you couldn’t see through the gap in the door, but you’d heard quiet murmurings from inside and gently placed your ear to the door to listen closer. the sound of a girl’s voice had completely shocked you. especially considering what you’d come here to talk about with taerae.

“yeah, it might take a bit to find the sweet spot,” taerae answers with a chuckle; his answer causing your jaw to drop. fingers? sweet spots? what the fuck is going on in there!?

“mmm, thank you again for teaching me, taerae,” the voice responds. upon closer listening, you realize you know this voice. it belongs to your world history classmate, jinah-- the girl who sits behind you and doodles the entire period. she’s very nice-- pretty and athletic, too, but...

you didn’t really think taerae was her type.

you hadn’t spoken to taerae much in the last couple weeks. ever since you’d actually slept together... things had changed. it felt like your best friend was avoiding you. when you’d texted to ask about movie night the past two fridays, taerae had said he was busy with homework both times. normally taerae would meet you for lunch in the student union every other day in between his music theory class, but he hadn’t come by since then. he’d barely said two words to you at choir practice last night.

was this why? he’d decided he liked jinah instead? he couldn’t face you after... using you? 

taerae would never do that. not to you. probably not to anyone.

then again, you’d never talked about whether what was going on between you was exclusive or not. and what it meant to you; what he meant to you. had you completely misinterpreted this whole situation?

“and the middle finger...” jinah trails off and the mental picture you have unfortunately painted in your head of the scene taking place is enough to make you gag.

“that one’s gonna reach as far up as possible,” taerae explains. if you had known your best friend was offering masturbation classes out of his dorm room, you probably would’ve been more careful about where you were sitting on his bed.

“i don’t think i can reach that far,” jinah huffs with a frustrated sigh. “it kind of hurts.”

“relax,” taerae soothes. “it’ll feel better if you relax.”

your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sound of the audible gasp that escapes you, but your elbow hitting the door blows your cover. you stand up quickly as taerae’s door swings open-- revealing you in the doorway to taerae and jinah.

... and revealing jinah sitting on taerae’s bed and holding a guitar (quite clumsily, if you may be so brazen) in her hands; taerae sitting next to her and seemingly offering some sort of instruction.

“you--...” you stutter, surprised and also incredibly relieved to find that the lessons taerae was giving were much more wholesome than you’d been forced to imagine for the past few minutes. “oh thank fuck holy shit.”

as the uncontrollable string of grateful curse words leaves your mouth, jinah clears her throat awkwardly and stands up; removing the guitar strap from around her neck and handing the instrument to its owner.

“sorry for interrupting,” you mumble, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth as taerae glares at you. 

“no, it’s okay! i have to finish an essay for tomorrow anyway,” jinah replies, picking up her bag and walking towards the door. you step to the side for her to get by, awkwardly smiling as she calls behind her, “thank you, taerae! see you next week!”

jinah retreats down the hallway, leaving just you and taerae alone in a tense silence.

“what are you doing here?” taerae asks, rather unceremoniously. “it’s a thursday night. you have tutoring on thursday nights. that's why we have movie night on fridays.”

you nod, still leaning against the doorframe. “my last appointment cancelled so i--... i wanted to come talk to you.”

“oh,” taerae replies with a nod. “okay.”

you frown. “okay?”

“yeah,” he says, looking down at his guitar in his hands; starting to strum it lightly. “okay.”

your eyebrows raise in shock as your best friend seemingly shrugs you off. you walk over to him and snatch the guitar from his hands by its neck.

“HEY!” he protests as you bring the instrument over to its stand and place it there annoyedly (but carefully; you’re not an asshole). “i was playing that.”

“what the fuck is the matter with you!?” you snap, turning back around to face him. “you’ve been avoiding me for two weeks!”

taerae visibly gulps; eyes falling to the floor. 

“and this is how you’re gonna act?” you scold, folding your arms across your chest. “after we...”

for some reason you’re unable to say it. taerae is silent-- seemingly holding his breath as he waits for you to continue. coward.

“i came here to talk to you about everything and--... and then i heard you through the door giving jinah a fucking guitar lesson,” you explain while rolling your eyes. “better than the lesson i thought you were giving her, but...”

taerae looks up at you now; brow furrowed as his head tilts to the side confusedly. “w--... what kind of a lesson did you think i was giving her?”

you blink back at him; unsure of whether to tell the truth or not. but taerae catches on before you can commit to a lie.

his jaw drops in shock. “you thought--... did you think--”

you look down at your feet: embarrassed, anxious, and just plain sad after the events of the last couple weeks. this mixture of emotions forms a lump in your throat that you are now hopelessly trying to suppress. “i’m really sorry for interrupting. and for listening a bit. i just don't know what happened. i thought we were--... i thought you felt the same way that i did, but... you just must be really upset with me and i don’t know what i did but i’m so sorry and i really miss you so i wanted to talk to you and i just was... i dunno, i thought--”

taerae cuts off your rambling by standing up and wrapping his arms around you tightly. against your neck, he soothes, “ssh, baby. it’s okay-- it’s all okay. i promise.”

“i like you,” you confess into taerae’s sweatshirt. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know this would happen. but i really like you, tae.”

"fuck-- i like you, too. of course i like you, too,” he says, pulling back to look at you. “and this is all my fault.”

you sniffle as you ask, “what did you do this time?”

“something really, really stupid,” he replies with a sad smile.

mirroring his expression, you quip, “what else is new?” 

“yeah, yeah,” he accepts with a laugh. cupping your cheek in his hand, he runs his thumb across the skin sweetly. “i thought i was the one who fucked up... by falling for you.”

“... oh,” is all you can manage to say.

“oh is right,” he says, leaning in and kissing your lips gently. “i honestly wasn’t sure what to do about it. i didn’t want to hurt you and i thought maybe just... avoiding you for a bit would make it easier for me to stop having feelings for you. but it didn’t. it just hurt you and me more-- and it was really immature. i’m so sorry.”

you wrap your arms around his neck, having forgiven your idiot of a best friend before he even apologized. “i missed you so much.”

“i missed you more,” taerae says, peppering your cheeks with kisses. you giggle; taerae grinning before attaching his lips to yours again.

“but, um,” you say quickly, pulling back to meet his gaze. “i’d love to put in a request for no more guitar lessons with the door closed, if the suggestion box is still open.”

“it is,” taerae says with a laugh. “suggestion accepted, approved and implemented.”

“and, uh, maybe they don’t have to take place on your bed,” you say, biting your bottom lip and hiding your face in his chest.

“i will have you know my conduct is strictly professional at all times,” taerae replies and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “but you’re completely right. not to mention, it was probably rude of me to let her sit on my bed... without telling her what it’s covered in.”

“TAERAE-YA!” you shout, hitting his chest as he pulls you toward his bed-- pushing you down gently onto the mattress and climbing between your legs with ease. “you do wash your sheets, don’t you?”

he just laughs.

“tae, that’s gross,” you reply, shaking your head as he cups your center over your jeans. your protesting starts to waiver as he applies more pressure to where you need him most. “you--... you really should--”

“enough, enough, baby-- of course i wash them,” he replies, hooking his fingers around the belt loops of your jeans and shimmying them along with your underwear down your legs before discarding them on the floor. then he smirks at you, adding, “but sometimes i do wonder what the point is when you’re just gonna get them dirty again.”

“fuck,” you whine as taerae admires you. he’s licking his lips like he hasn’t eaten in days-- and he hasn’t. you wonder how he’s survived this long without you.

“so,” he says, starting to circle your clit with two fingers. his rhythm isn’t steady though; it’s intoxicatingly teasing. “what did you think i was teaching in these ‘lessons’?”

you feel your face heat up again at the mention of your faux pas. “don’t make fun of me.”

“never, baby,” he says; a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “i’m just curious what you think i’m enough of an expert in to be qualified to teach.”

“i--... oh my god,” you say, shaking your head with embarrassment. “i thought you were teaching her how to finger herself!"

“hmm, i guess i can understand the confusion,” taerae runs his fingers through your folds, gathering some of your slick and painting it across your stomach. “since playing guitar requires so much skill with your fingers.”

“shut up,” you reply, pouting at him.

“no, really,” he insists with a nod. as he pushes his middle finger into you gently, you gasp at the sensation. “like, to play a chord; each of your fingers needs to hold down the correct string and in the correct spot. like, to play a d chord for example.”

taerae strokes up into your walls with his middle finger, causing you to whimper. “see this middle finger needs to be on that ‘high e’ string. and then the ring finger...”

plunging another finger into you, your hand reaches to grab onto taerae to steady yourself. he smiles at you, pressing both fingers firmly against your walls now. “will sit nicely on that ‘b’ string right here.”

as he works his fingers against your walls lazily, you whine-- desperate for more friction and soon. your prayers are answered when taerae inserts a third finger, stretching you carefully until he’s able to push it all the way in.

“and finally, the index finger is going to go...” he laughs lightly before pushing his index finger into the spongy, firm spot in your walls that only he has ever been able to find. as you cry out in pleasure, taerae presses kisses to your thighs. “you might’ve guessed, but that one’s on the ‘g’ string. and listen to that beautiful sound it's making.”

“did you--... did you plan that g-spot joke?” you ask breathlessly in between pleading moans as taerae picks up the pace of his fingers. “you’re the--*hic!*... worst person i know.”

the little hiccup from pleasure that separates your insult sends taerae reeling. “fucking perfect, huh? every inch of you.”

“baby, please,” you beg, self-control low after two weeks without taerae. “wanna cum. please, wanna cum for you.”

taerae moans and, from the way he’s looking at you, you know he’s just as desperate as you are. he falls to his stomach now between your legs as he says, “was gonna try to... keep my mouth off of you. show you i really like you. you-- not just your pussy but...”

“fuck it,” you both say at the same time.

lips attaching to your clit, taerae wastes no time in pushing you closer to the edge as he laps, sucks, eats at you-- one leg of yours hooked over his back as he continues to work you with his left hand. 

“tae,” you whimper, hands in his hair as you grind your hips into his touch. “g’nna cum... please, gonna cum.”

taerae whines and, with the state you’re in, you don’t even notice how feverishly he’s grinding into the bed. he switches to sucking, lips tugging perfectly on your clit and it’s all over for you.

“fuck, i--... i--... m’cumming,” you moan, taerae’s name falling from your lips a few dozen times as you come down from your high. “oh my god.”

taerae is noticeably quiet; removing his fingers from inside of you, he laps at the juices that drip out of you with his eyes closed. you know he really likes you... but it’s very possible he likes your pussy just as much. you’re not complaining.

“tae,” you call sweetly, sitting up on your elbows. “baby? come here-- want you to fuck me.”

he opens his eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he sits up a bit. “um... so, about that.”

his gaze trails down to the crotch of his jeans and you follow it to find a nice, big wet spot soaking through the denim. 

“are you serious!?” you whine in frustration; sighing as taerae smiles at you sheepishly.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes with a cute little pout. “will you forgive me if i say it’s because you’re just too hot?”

you roll your eyes-- grinning at him. “i’ll consider it.”

“thank god, because i think i can probably make it up to you...” he says, sitting up and grabbing your jeans from the floor. “after some dinner.”

you laugh. “are you asking me out?”

“i totally am,” he answers with a smile.

“you’re sure you’re not too... full?” you joke, grabbing his hand in yours. “you did just eat.”

taerae shakes his head, smirking at you:

“trust me-- i’m never full when i’m with you.”

[bucketsofmonsters]

The Witch's Apprentice - Part 5

cw: demon summoning, prolonged isolation, size difference, non-human genitalia, oral sex, agoraphobia, magical branding, more tags will be added as the story continues

male demon x afab reader

Word count: 4k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7

By your third week of being locked in your room, you felt like you might lose your mind. 

Considering you’d been locked in the house for years you’d think the room wouldn’t be so bad. The actual space wasn’t that much smaller but the real problem was that there was nothing to do. Everything you’d been busying yourself with for years was locked outside, your books, your garden, your best friend. 

Any pretense of freedom had disappeared. You could no longer go outside, chose what to do with your day, or see another living thing. 

Well, most living things.

Eden had soundproofed all of the rooms for her own usage, so no one overheard anything she didn’t want them to. She knew how to break through it and project sound through the walls, something you’d never learned to do. However, you had no qualms about using the soundproofing to your advantage. 

Lucien was less and less incredulous with every new time you summoned him. What do you want’s turned into easy greetings and his exasperation with you faded, although he seemed loathe to let you notice. 

The summonings had become almost daily events. 

You never made it more than an hour or two without at least giving it a shot. Your lack of actual summoning materials or techniques made it so he didn’t strictly have to come, could just decide not to show up, but he almost always did, choosing to stay with you for hours on end. 

Every now and then he’d drop out, feeling a tug of being summoned by some other witch before he’d pop back, unsummoned and of his own choosing. 

Today you were laying back on your bed while he sat on the floor. Even sitting, he was tall enough that your heads were roughly in line with one another. 

You never did much. You would ask him question after question and watch as his answers got more and more evasive, not even to hide anything but seemingly doing it just because he could. He spoke in circles just to watch your head spin and see how long it would take before the questions stopped in favor of throwing pillows at him. 

All the pillows lay scattered around him leaving you tragically out of ammo. You supposed you’d just have to hope that he’d had a change of heart in his neverending quest to irritate you. 

It never worked. Not really. 

Even if it weren’t for the boredom that made you cling to every word, there way something almost charming about his refusal to commit to an answer, to dance around the question and try and make you forget what you’d originally asked, regardless of whether he cared about you knowing the answer or not. It felt almost like a game. 

“What does it feel like when you get summoned?” you asked, curious what happened on his end when he got that distant look in his eyes. 

“Why, do you think you're getting summoned?” he asked with a laugh. “Is there another witch out there who wants to lock you in an even smaller room?”

“Stop it. She’s just worried.”

“Uh-huh. How long do you think this is going to last?” he asked, staring out at your locked door with blatant disgust. 

You were less evasive with your answers. “I don’t know. If it lasts longer I might actually lose it.”

“So let me take you somewhere. Come on, I’ll have you back before you know it.”

Where the teasing and talking in circles was entertaining, this was your biggest point of contention. Lucien had become fixated on getting you out of here, on showing you the world. 

You’d be lying if you said part of your apprehension to leave wasn’t fear. It had been so long, even talking to him had been such a big step. You couldn’t imagine just being somewhere new. 

But you also couldn’t do that to Eden, betray her trust like that. No matter how many times he reassured you that she would never know, it left a churning feeling in your stomach. She’d been there for you for so many years, kept you safe. You couldn’t just leave her like that, behind her back. 

You avoided the topic as often as you could. Other than those little arguments, seeing him had absolutely become the best part of your day. 

You supposed that wasn’t hard to do. You spent most of the time he wasn’t there sleeping, What else was there to do?

You told him as much and he couldn’t quite manage to hide the flash of pity that crossed his face, the one that showed up whenever you mentioned your current living situation. 

He did his best to push past it. “Have you been having fun dreams?” he asked with a grin. 

You tried to brush off the comment despite his suggestive tone and allusion back to what he’d seen before. “They’re fine. Why don’t you show up in them anymore?”

“Just fine? Maybe dream me needs some pointers.” 

You leaned off the bed, reaching for the pillow that lay closest to you on the floor. You managed to get a grip on it right as you started to slide off the bed but Lucien pushed you back up before you could fall to the floor. 

He was rewarded for his efforts by a pillow flying towards him that collided with one of his horns as you let out a quiet harrumph. 

“You’re so rude to me. And why are you asking? I’m here all the time, do you miss me?” he asked, cooing at you with faux sympathy. “Because if you want me there all you have to do is ask.”

“None of that was an answer to my question,” you informed him, well aware it wouldn’t get you anywhere. 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re much more fun when your inhibitions are gone.”

“Mmhmm, I’m sure. And do you take a lot of humans to your little sin room?”

“Only the cute ones.”

You snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“I could take you back there.”

“You are so shameless. If you want me to get all loose and flirty again just bring some wine by or something.”

“Not like that. I just think it would be good for you to get out, stretch your legs.”

“For the last time, I’m staying right here.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a huff, as if there was even the smallest chance that he’d finally give up on the idea. “If it were me, I would have killed that bitch by now.”

“Stop it! You will not talk about her like that!” Your defense of Eden was as reflexive as ever. You knew he had every right to be unimaginably angry at her but she was still your best friend, your savior. 

His inevitable upcoming protest was cut off by your dinner being slid under the door, Lucien keeping absolutely still as the metal tray scraped against the floor. 

He hated being here when she was nearby, even if she wasn’t interacting with you much these days. He claimed it was because he didn’t want to get you in even more trouble and get any more of your freedoms taken away. 

You were sure that was part of it. But you saw the way he tensed up when she got close, when any sign appeared of her existence right on the other side of the door. 

He was afraid of her. Absolutely terrified. 

It made your heart ache, seeing him like that, seeing the fractures in his facade. You couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done to him to make him act like this. 

Not that he’d ever tell you. You knew better than to push that point, it was one secret he was more than entitled to. 

You did your best not to dwell on it too much. If you did you’d have to reflect on the way he always put himself between you and the door, the way he tensed up whenever she called out to you, knowing you couldn’t even respond unless she allowed it through the soundproofing.  She never did. 

You couldn’t be sure exactly when, maybe when you summoned him on your own the first time, maybe when you’d told him about all the years you’d spent stuck in this cabin surrounded by the vicious woods, maybe when you’d broken that summoning circle and trusted him, but at some point he’d decided that you were just as much Eden’s victim as he was. Some mysterious point where something switched in his mind and it moved from being you and her against him to Eden against the two of you. 

You didn’t blame him for it. Eden had done horrible things to him, that much was clear. He needed her to be a villain and you could give him that. 

Lucien always waited a long time before speaking after she showed up so you just lay there, attempting to sneak glances at him and getting caught every time. 

Eventually his shoulders untensed and he seemed to decide it was safe to speak again, although a simmering anger still burned in his eyes. 

“She isn’t teaching you jackshit.”

“Well…” you attempted to protest before he immediately cut you off. 

“Not a question. I could teach you, you know. Your little witch isn’t the only one who knows magic.”

You laughed. “And what’s the price? You want my soul or something?”

“Please, if I wanted your soul I’d probably just need to ask, your dumbass would just hand it over to me.”

He probably wasn’t that far off the mark, if your history was any indication. 

You shrugged as you replied. “There’s no real point in teaching me anyways, I’m not very good at it.” You weren’t even sure why he was offering, he’d already seen more than enough of you to know you were a lost cause. 

“Being good at things isn't the only reason to do them. Come on, have some fun with it.”

Everything in you screamed that it was a bad idea, that you’d fuck it all up. But the way he was looking at you, daring you to say yes, managed to override those instincts just long enough to squeak out, “Fine. But you’re not allowed to get mad when I mess up.”

You weren’t sure what to expect of Lucien as a teacher. Whatever those confused expectations in the back of your head were, he certainly didn’t match them. 

He was a patient teacher, letting you feel things out quietly and slowly. His jokes and evasiveness disappeared completely and every question you had was met with a careful answer. 

You discovered very quickly that his sort of magic was very, very different from Edens. 

Eden was all about rules, about maintaining the security and purity of her spells first. Everything was a strict ritual to be observed. 

Lucien’s magic contained a freedom you thought couldn’t be afforded to humans. Instead of a list of materials and steps, what you were faced with most frequently now was instructions to shut your eyes and imagine, to put all the trust you had into the idea that when your eyes opened, whatever you imagined would have happened. 

It was something you struggled with. That faith that it would work. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in the magic, you’d seen far too much for that. It was thinking it would work for you that you kept stumbling 

Where Eden’s magic was like a recipe, Lucien’s felt more like a trust fall. 

And still, you progressed. Without the same confidence Lucien carried himself with, but progress nonetheless. 

He brought you little gifts every time you made progress, slivers of the outside world. 

You’d been getting frustrated with yourself. The very first thing he’d tried to teach you was just the ability to reach out to someone. 

You sat there, day after day, attempting it. The way he’d explained it, everyone had an aura, a little pool of energy that hovered around them. If you focused you could reach out, stretch it thin and find someone else’s. 

It had to be close. Not in proximity but in a more abstract sense. He reassured you that the two of you were more than close enough for it to work. 

One night, after he had long since left, you were practicing and getting frustrated once more when you felt that aura of yours he’d described time and time again bump into something warm, and a sense of familiarity washed over you.  

A moment later you felt something back, a meandering sense of something winding inside of you, pulling at some part of you that made you giggle. Who knew auras could be ticklish? 

The next day he came bearing an eclair. It felt like a breath of fresh air. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been able to eat something sweet like that.  

You treasured the little paper doily it came on, sometimes just tracing the intricate designs that bordered it. 

A few days later was a soft scarf in a bright red that had been given to you when you opened your eyes to find yourself letting off a faint glow in that same red. 

The next time you managed to do something, this time it was simply to warm up a surface by a few degrees, he reached out and handed you a gift he had at the ready. It made your heart swell that he already had it, like he had absolute faith you’d be able to do something to deserve it. This time it was a tiny ceramic fox that had its little head lifted defiantly towards the sky

You kept them all buried under your pillow, terrified that any day now would be the day and Eden would come in to free you only to see mysterious trinkets that could only have come from elsewhere. 

You kept the fox wrapped up in your scarf, afraid you’d roll over wrong in your sleep and it might break but still unwilling to hide the little treasures too far away from yourself. 

More often than not, you woke up clutching them, a habit you couldn’t break no matter how hard you tried. 

Sooner than you ever could have imagined, you weren’t even afraid to make mistakes around him anymore. When you’d begun, you’d been convinced any slip-up would ruin everything, that he’d give up on you and leave you behind. Now you floundered and messed up spells and it didn’t matter. He made sure that you were alright, that it was safe to learn and eventually you figured them all out. 

“I’m running out of rewards,” he said with a chuckle as you beamed down at your fox, one you’d managed to make wobble without so much as touching it. “That’s how you know you’re getting good. How will I ever motivate you now?”

“Are you kidding,” you basically shouted, pride and excitement welling up inside you. “Did you see what I just did? That was amazing! I don’t need a reward to want to learn how to do incredible things.”

“Maybe. I think you deserve them anyways.”

The comment brought a heat to your cheeks, one that was becoming more and more common in you every time Lucien was here. Another thing you tried not to dwell on too much, lest you get swept up in it. 

His head cocked to the side with a familiar look as you gave him an understanding smile. “Off to see another witch?” you asked.

He sneered. “Yes, your favorite witch, in fact. Well, I shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

He leaned down towards you and kissed the top of your head before immediately dissipating, a move that didn’t feel quite fair. At least it didn’t give him the chance to watch you flounder. 

As you slept that night you found yourself having a familiar dream. The walls of colorful fabrics were a much more welcome sight than the forest that so often plagued your dreams. 

A dream Lucien stood before you, per usual. But something was off this time. It took you a second to place it before you realized that even standing here, passively, you could sense his aura. You knew him too well for the trick he was trying to pull. 

But after an onslaught of little tricks and his rude kiss and run earlier, you were feeling a little more mischievous than normal. Perhaps he was rubbing off on you. 

Before he could say anything to tease you, you strode up to him, got onto the very tips of your toes, and reached up to pull him into a kiss. 

He was too tall for you to be able to pull a maneuver like that without him playing along but he eagerly leaned down to meet you, lips crashing together. His hands fell to your waist, helping you keep your balance as you strained to reach him. 

You pulled away after a moment and looked up at him with a smirk, giving his aura a little tug as you said,  “You really should announce when it's you.”

He laughed. “You didn't give me the chance.”

His hands tightened around your sides, giving you a gentle squeeze as he kept you close. “We don’t have to stop, you know. I’d be a cruel man to rob you of a wet dream.”

Your boldness grew in your chest. You couldn’t remember if you’d ever been around someone and simply not felt nervous before now but these last few weeks, he’d managed to foster that feeling in you. You were eager to try out this new confidence. 

You slipped out of his grasp and fell to your knees in front of him. “You know,” you said, “I haven't been able to thank you for being so kind to me.”

For once he seemed to be at a loss for words. After a moment of floundering, he managed to say, “You don’t need to do that, little one.”

“I want to,” you said, looking up at him with big eyes. 

You barely caught the quiet groan that escaped him. “What did I do to deserve you,” he asked, and it too was quiet. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was a question meant for you or if it was for the universe itself. 

After his little nod of permission, you were immediately undoing his pants, eager to get your hands on him after so many weeks of pining after him. 

Being here, now, it felt silly that you’d denied yourself those feelings for so long. Outside of his little pocket of hell where you’d been able to do as you wished, you’d tried to force down those feelings. 

But now, despite the appearance of his familiar room, nothing was here to help you along. The dam just broke, and you couldn’t help but wish you’d given in much sooner. 

As you pulled down his pants you found he was already hard, his massive cock bouncing up as you freed it of its confines. 

Part of you was glad your first encounter with it was in a dream because it was intimidatingly big. It fit his frame as he towered above you but you were unsure if humans and demons were meant to be together like this. You found you didn’t much care either way. You’d make it work. 

You gave an experimental lick to the tip, your tongue moving lightly across it. 

His hand came down to grab your jaw as you pulled off of him, squishing your cheeks as he angled your face up toward him. 

“You’re too sweet, little one. It’s going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

“Wanna be sweet for you,” you said, leaning into his touch. 

He released your jaw and tilted his head to the side, giving you the reigns. 

You licked up a long stripe up his cock, from the very base. It felt like the most you could manage, your hands encircling him to make up for what you couldn’t do with your mouth. 

His breathing was coming faster, his eyes remaining locked on your form. As your hands pumped up and down his shaft, focusing most of your attention on licking at the head of his cock, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of him coming undone so quickly was because of the actual sensation and how much was from him getting to watch you. 

He seemed entirely entranced. You felt several times as his hands moved to touch you before pulling quietly away, like he could get head from you and yet was nervous to touch, as if that would make it too vulnerable. 

The more grunts and whines you pulled from him, the more determined you became. You pulled back from your persistent licking, taking him in for a moment. 

He might be massive, but you focused on the fact that as real as this felt, it was a dream. Surely in a dream you could do whatever you wanted. You were most certainly going to try.

You managed to fit your lips around the head, your mouth stretched wide. You swirled your tongue around the tip as your hands worked his shaft, determined to draw even more noises from him. 

You looked up with wide eyes, waiting to make sure you were doing okay. You could feel them watering as you worked him over but you pushed past it as those watery eyes met his, pitch black and full of nothing but lust and adoration. 

A massive hand found its way into your hair, not pushing but caressing as you tried to take as much of him as you could. 

The hand tightened in your hair and he grunted out, “I’m going to…”

That was the only warning you got before he started to come. 

You tried to swallow it all but couldn’t manage it.  It just kept coming, it was too much. You popped off the head with a little cough, the rest getting all over your clothes and making you once again glad that this was a dream. 

This would have been a nightmare to explain to Eden. You might’ve just had to burn your clothes and hope for the best. 

Lucien lets out a gentle chuckle, thumb wiping some of his cum off of your face. “A little over-ambitious but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

You snorted out a laugh and as he looked down at you fondly, you thought you could happily stay here forever.

And then something other than the contentedness and fondness crossed his face, wrinkling his brow.

His expression soured and before you could so much as ask a question, he simply said, “Wake up” and the world around you fell away. 

You woke up frustrated and confused, not understanding why he sent you away. You wanted more and you wanted to stay and more than anything you wanted an explanation. You summoned him almost reflexively, the process second nature to you now.  

Before any of your confusion or frustration could come out, he blurted out, “Let me take you somewhere.”

A wounded little sound escaped you as the moment soured and his obsession with whisking you away appeared once more. “Not a chance.”

“But if you could go somewhere…”

“Can we not do this? Please? I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“Shouldn’t. Whatever word you want me to use.”

“Why, because she says you shouldn’t? I say you should.”

“I say I shouldn’t. Isn’t that enough for you?”

The fight normally petered out right about there, both of you frustrated and exhausted with the uphill battle of trying to get the other to understand. 

Not today. Something had changed between the two of you and the desire to linger in it, to bathe in the affection, dissipated as he grabbed your arm and the room around you gave way to the stone walls of an alley. 

The narrow, stone corridor was devoid of people but you could hear the buzz of a crowd not far off, probably not more than a few paces away. It was hard to tell exactly as the noise bounced off the walls, echoing in your ears. 

Despite your anger, you found yourself edging closer to Lucien. Anything familiar was welcome in this alien place you’d been thrust into. 

Your breathing got shallower and you pleaded with him. “Take me back.”

“I will if you want me to. Just not yet. Please not yet. You need to leave, you need to not be there.”

You looked up at him with teary eyes, the trust you’d been basking in being shattered in a moment. “Why are you doing this? I know it’s not for me because I don’t want it.”

“She’s made you afraid. You’ve been tricked and trapped and you need to leave. I need you to leave. You just need a push, that’s it. Just need to be away from her.”

“Listen, just because you don’t like her…”

“No, this is not spite talking, you need to listen to me, you need to figure it out.”

You reeled back. “What?” Surely if he knew something that could change this endless fight, he would have told you. What could there possibly be that you needed to figure out all on your own? 

“You just, you need to ask…” his words were cut off with a yell as he doubled over on himself, runes burning into his skin as he spoke. They shone bright red and it almost looked like he was being branded. 

The anger faded immediately into concern as you rushed to his side. 

“What’s happening, I don’t understand?”

“You can’t say anything,” he insisted, a frantic look in his eyes.

“But you said…”

“I know what I said, you can’t ask anything.”

More than anything, that scared you. The constant pleading for you to break free and push back against Eden and now he was doing everything but that, retracing his steps after unmistakable witch marks were burned into him. 

She’d done this. That much was clear. 

You couldn’t keep doing this. You needed to know, needed to understand. 

“Take me back.”

“I…”

You put everything you had into your voice as you said, “Lucien, take me back.”

The use of his name in his already weakened state with the ruins still charred into his skin was enough, he didn’t have it in him to fight back and you were whisked into the depths of the woods. You returned home. 

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Five: Christmas (Week Four)

Chapter Summary: The end of your vacation with Joel is lingering in the distance, spending the final few days sharing as many moments as possible until your final day, which might not be the end of you and Joel, but it definitely feels that way.

Chapter Warnings: (6k) : no outbreak, consensual somnophilia (talk mentioned in chapter), oral (f & m receiving), joel being vulnerable, the most sappiest and deeply emotional sex you can have with a man you've only known for a month, unprotected piv, bittersweet goodbyes

The days leading up to Christmas are slow and cherished. With the looming end of your shared vacation not far off, it feels like each moment is precious. A story that could be shared a million times, but something you craved to keep close to your chest. 

Joel always looms near, a step or touch away. He eventually found the courage to sift through your stash of books, picking something old and worn away and relaxing himself on his own couch while you took up the other, a mutual moment of quiet bliss.

You bug him with random questions more often now, curious to gather as much stuff about him as your brain could manage and he often did the same, whether out of courtesy or not.

His favorite color is green, occasionally blue. He likes the softer purple…lavender, he thinks? But, that’s only because Sarah does. 

He doesn’t think he’s much of a cat or dog person, but he always ends up feeding the stray animals around his neighborhood—again, something he picked up from Sarah.

He carries her with him everywhere and smiles at every mention of her name. It’s beautiful. And you feel the lingering bittersweetness around it all, knowing that he didn’t get to see her nearly as much as he wanted.

“What’s your favorite animal?” He asks a few days before Christmas, stirring the sugar into your coffee before shoving it into your waiting hands.

“Uh—wolves?” You sound unsure, but you nod more confidently, “Yeah, wolves are cool. What about you?”

“Horses.” He answers simply, “You ever ride one?”

“Given I’ve lived in Austin for so long, you would think so–but no.”

He almost has the inclination to invite you, but then he remembers.

You won’t exist to him outside of here. And he to you.

“You gotta change that, darlin’.” 

“I’ll try.” You answer with a smile, sipping gingerly at the steaming cup of coffee.

-

Joel likes his time to himself too, unlike yourself. Being alone here felt off, weird—considering you went into the trip with idea that you would be completely alone, it was almost too lonely when Joel would sneak away or take a drive into town. You never questioned it, though. Sometimes he’d leave to call Sarah, even if the call didn’t actually make it through. Sometimes he’d leave to pick up more coffee that he would eventually run through because he wasn’t a one cup a day type of person.

He was more like a five or six. Seven on the days that seemed too dreary and long. It couldn’t be good for him, but he knows none of this is either. The sex, the growing affection toward a stranger that he would eventually have to leave behind, the underlying attachment to you.

It’s Christmas Eve when Joel rolls over in bed and throws out the idea of having breakfast in the small town a couple hours away, just for a change of pace.

He doesn’t explicitly try to make it seem like he’s asking you on a date, but it feels that way. The shyness he hides behind a few clears of his throat, turned over on his side in the bed that he had very savagely fucked you in the night prior, thighs still aching from the way he gripped your skin and forced you open.

It’s a stark difference from the gentle man in front of you and that’s what you loved about him.

And the moment the thought slips from your mind you feel your heart stop, the idea of loving someone so new—who didn’t have any intention of seeing this through, nor did you. You try to batter it down to the intimacy you’ve shared, that Joel was just a likable guy underneath all the disdain and grumpiness. People loved him and that didn’t have to be a huge thing, still, it terrified you.

The restaurant he takes you to is small, but filled to the brim. Small families, older couples, all hammering away at their early morning breakfast while you and Joel ordered your own, feeling like this was a peek at what could’ve been.

Joel knows he can’t have you. 

You’re younger, naive—life left to live that didn’t include him. You needed to make mistakes, follow the goals you had set for yourself and that ultimately, he would be the type of person to bog you down. 

He rubs at your extended hand tenderly where it lays on the table and for a moment, you try to pretend this is something real and not a fantasy you were both allowing to play out.

-

Christmas is something else entirely.

Joel had stayed up into the late hours the night prior, something you couldn’t be bothered to take part in, hearing him sneak into the room well past midnight. He didn’t sleep well often, noticing how often he woke up in the middle of the night and walked the halls, paced, thinking about whatever was ailing his mind. You’d count the footsteps and wait, playing asleep when he’d crawl back into bed and wrap himself around you. 

He’s sprawled out on his back this morning, face buried into the crook of his elbow that was slung up high by his head, snoring softly. His other arm slung loosely against his chest, fingers curled into a soft fist. 

You remember the brief respite you both had about situational opportunities—outright admitting to him that you were okay with him fucking you awake, which should’ve surprised him but it didn’t. It took him a while to admit it himself, but after a night wrapped in the sheets together he allowed himself to open up a little more freely.

“Are you into anything?” You ask softly, “Like, is there anything that just makes you go—oh, fuck yeah.” You mimic him lamely toward the end of your sentence and he laughs softly, shoving a gentle hand over your mouth. 

“You tryin’ to make fun of me?” Joel asks playfully. “But, no—I don’t know. I guess I like things…a little rough. Maybe that’s more one-sided—”

You coyly shake your head, the edges of a smile framing the corners of your mouth.

“Alright,” Joel notes, “Uh, that thing you said about,” Joel clears his throat once, “fuckin’ you awake, don’t think I’d mind that either.”

“Joel.” You gasp scandalously, soft and quiet.

Which lends to the position you’re in now, slowly moving the blanket down his thighs and revealing his tanned skin, left in a worn out black shirt and a matching pair of briefs that held snug to his body, soft cock lending a beautiful outline in the cotton material. 

You sneak between his legs quietly, one leg hiked up slightly as he stretched out, unbeknownst to your lingering presence as you press your mouth against the outline of his cock, fingers running teasingly over the waistband as he stirs slightly, still deep in a heavy slumber. He hums a soft noise and turns his head away.

Feeling the warm heat of his skin through the fabric, you crave a real touch. The heady smell of him, mixed with his fresh body wash and remnants of cologne from his jeans just a few feet away. It’s addicting, intoxicating, driving you to near madness.

You slowly pull his underwear down, far enough that you can settle the waistband underneath his balls, a soft and light touch as you trail your fingertips over his shaft, exploring carefully, watching for any signs that he might wake up soon.

He doesn’t move an inch.

But, you know it won’t take much.

You give a few slow, experimental tugs before slotting your mouth over the side of his cock, tongue dragging a long line down his shaft and fitting himself in your mouth, repeating the process a few times before you start to feel him harden underneath your tongue, smirking at how quickly things go from calm to feverish.

“Jesus,” Joel murmurs from above, his hand finding your head and cradling the back of it, urging you to keep going, holding him as deep as you can until you feel the burn and gag, eyes watering at the sensation, “fuckin’ Merry Christmas to me, huh?”

You snort softly, allowing yourself to settle more comfortable as he slowly awoke, rubbing his palms into his eyes and blinking away the blurry morning haze, groaning lowly when you take him just a little too deep, the tip of your nose nudging the base of his groin, the stubble tickling your nose.

You could do this for hours, really—solely to hear the quiet and muffled reactions Joel tried to keep to himself, slowly losing his grip on reality as you pick up your pace, hand covering what your mouth couldn’t reach when you intensify the pace, dragging your tongue around the tip of his cock until he shutters underneath you, using the grip on your head to hurry up your pace, knowing he was already near the edge and allowing you the courtesy of a warning when he did feel the urge to come, but he’s tapping your chin and you’re not moving.

“Baby, I—” Joel doesn’t get another word out before you double-down, eyes flicking up to look at him while he falls apart, eyes nearly rolling back at the intensity of heat he feels as he comes down your throat, allowing you eagerly swallow every last drop, pulling off with a soft pop, grinning at him salaciously.

You hum softly, climbing over his lap until your noses touch, staring into his wide eyes with an unrestrained adoration for one another.

“Good morning,” You say quietly, “sleep well?”

“Got a few hours in,” Joel admits, “I’ll manage. Nothin’ a few cups of coffee can’t fix.”

“Uh huh.” You mock playfully, moving slightly so Joel can readjust his underwear.

“I gotta take care of somethin’ first, though.” Joel tells you, rising up slightly, his touching prickling your thigh, “If you don’t mind?”

“Wha—Oh!” Joel flips you onto your back without much resistance, gaining the upper hand with the surprise of his movements, tugging at your bottoms with his eyes trained on your expression, grinning with a giddiness that was only reserved for him.

Joel doesn’t give you time to adjust either, bottom half free of all clothing—he gets his palms under your thighs and pushes them up, nearly folding you in half as he dives into your pussy, mouth wasting no time to latch onto your clit, the glorious dig of his nose as he licks a long stripe down the seam of your cunt, ravishing after last bit you had to offer, not sparing any expense.

You’re white-knuckling the sheets before you feel Joel reaching blindly for your hand, moving it into his hair and silently asking—begging—you to take hold and use him to fulfill your own selfish needs. You card your fingers through soft curls, the slightly aged brown that was sprinkled with grays and you tugged, guiding his face against your cunt greedily. He sucks on your folds briefly, oversensitive now with how turned on you were, clit swelling underneath his tongue.

“Jo—Joel,” You gasp, “fuck, that’s—right there—”

“Yeah?” He says, muffled against your cunt, the vibration of his bravado doing nothing to ease the urge to come, quickly creeping up on you with how intense he’s set the pace, determined to get you off in record time, speaking in spurts as he dipped his tongue inside of you, fingers squeezing at your thighs when he feels your hole flutter around his tongue, so close to coming you might cry,  “Shoulda’—been doin’ this the whole fuckin’ time. Never would’ve let you leave—leave this goddamn bed.”

“Oh–fuckfuck,” You stammer, legs shaking as you feel yourself tip over, coming with a loud sob, tears brimming your eyes from how forceful you feel it, Joel not stopping even when you’re well-past finished, “Joel—Joel, please—”

“Gotta clean you up, baby.” He murmurs against your cunt, the soft sting of his stubble as it burns your inner thighs but keeps you conscious, otherwise you would’ve given up right then and crawled back into bed—screw Christmas, this was better. Joel would’ve stayed in bed all day if you asked. But, he’s pulling back eventually, nurturing the achy muscles in your hips with a tender rub of his fingers, mumbling a quiet apology.

You smile softly, allowing him to pull you upwards, tossing your clothes in the direction of your lap, trying to desperately to calm your rapidly beating heart and how nonchalant this man was acting after he’d had you bent in half and coming within just a few minutes.

“You stay put,” Joel orders, “I’ll be right back.”

….Okay. You slip your bottoms back on, sitting comfortably on the bed, legs tucked to the side and your fingers pulling at a lose thread in the stitching, hearing his descending footsteps going to god knows where—but there’s only a few seconds before he’s returning, something small tucked behind his back.

“Joel,” You scold, “What the hell did you do?”

He had that smug look on his face, walking toward you slowly.

“Close your eyes,” He tells you and you do so, feeling the dip of his weight as he sat on the mattress a few moments later, “Alright, open ‘em.”

You open them slowly, peeking through one eye at first before braving another, eyes searching his face before the flick down to the small figurine in his hands—a wolf carved out of wood, nothing too intricately detailed but the shape and idea was there.

This motherfucker.

You look up at him, brow furrowed in anger. Not specifically at him, but that he was trying to surprise you with something when you had nothing to offer in return—deadset on the idea that something like this was too personal, too connected. If he gave you this, it was something you would keep with you forever, a constant reminder of him.

You weren’t sure you could handle that. Still, you noticed the worry in his face, the lines in his forehead creasing as he noticed your distaste before it quickly fades.

“Joel,” You sound sad, pinched as you look over at him, hands cupping his own as you take the figurine from his hands, “—it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Joel knows it’s genuine, watching your bottom lip pull between your teeth as you nibble at the flash lightly.

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” Joel asks, trying not to seem offended.

He wanted to do something nice. Anything.

He didn’t know how to thank you, feeling like anything he could say would pale in comparison to such actions as gift giving or gratuitous morning oral. 

“I just—I didn’t…get you anything.” You tell him, rubbing a thumb over the wolf’s head and wooden snout—it was around the size of your palm, a perfect fit if you held it outstretched. You already had a place in mind of where you would keep it.

“I didn’ expect you to, darlin’.” Joel assures you, “I needed somethin’ to distract me last night so I made it. You ain’t gotta keep it. If it’s too much.”

“No, no—” You swiftly assure him, clutching it to your chest.

It was in your possession now. It was yours to keep.

“Can I be honest with you?” 

Joel seems fidgety, rubbing the thumb on his opposite hand over his knuckles, wringing his fingers together nervously.

“Not that there’s an obligation,” You remind him, “but yeah, of course.”

“I’m just—real glad this happened,” Joel admits, staring down at the duvet intently, avoiding your gaze. You touch his palm, slowing his nerves down to a dullness that he could barely feel, “I thought you might like it, but I really don’t expect nothin’ in return.”

He was used to it, but that wasn’t the point.

You squeeze his hand before pulling him into a gentle hug, giggling softly as he slings your legs off to the side over his lap so he can hug you fully, burying his face into your neck and inhaling slowly, a gentle rock back and forth as you both enjoy the silence.

“I came out here to be alone—I know you did too.”

You nod, fingers running gently along the tip of his spine, right into the beginnings of the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling back to look at him.

“I’m glad you were here,” You tell him, “No matter how much we wanted to murder each other that first night.”

Joel snorts at the fading memory, “Shoulda known then how much troubled you be.”

“Oh, so much trouble, Joel.” You counter, “You have no idea.”

And he wants to.

You both share a simple, chaste kiss that doesn’t linger. A solid thank you.

Thank you for being here. Thank your being you. Thank your for sharing this space.

Thank you for saving me.

-

Much of the day is spent tucked under Joel, watching a melody of Christmas movies he bought when he went to town a few days prior—old classics and new, fresh snow pelting the front windows and two steaming mugs in hand.

Joel opted for coffee, of course. You, a sweet hot cocoa loaded with mini marshmallows and cinnamon. Joel couldn’t help but grimace with every handful you topped on.

 But, he also said something that had stuck with you well into the day. 

“We’ve already been over this,” You scold him, “stop judging me.”

“You and Sarah would get on real well,” He says around the edge of his mug, “—that sugar intake is ridiculous.”

It stalls you for a moment, brain short-circuiting at the mention. Really, it shouldn’t matter. It was a simple statement that meant nothing and Joel, to your surprise, doesn’t even seem phased. Which—it’s a good sign. But, it still stings.

You wish attachments didn’t eat away at your mind, body, and soul. But, they did.

And you were so fucking attached to Joel it could kill you.

You force on a smile, stirring the hot cocoa with a spoon.

“Says the guy who drinks like twelve cups of coffee a day.” You argue, “A day.”

And Joel’s tendency of touch has only worsened as your time together waned, feeling and knowing that you would slip through his fingers—he’s holding onto this for as long as he can, knowing that once you both go your separate ways, this would all be for naught.

It’s nearing night by the time you both crawl into bed, sun already set for the day and sky outside dark, quiet aside from the occasional creak of the house.

“Any plans when you get back to Austin?” You ask lightly, trying to cut through the silence.

Joel’s gaze was ever-present, eyes examining you carefully.

“Just workin’,” Joel answers simply, “Nothin’ different than usual.”

You want to ask him to visit you, to spend time with you when you get back to Austin. But, you bite your tongue—afraid that whatever you’ve created her would crumble on the outside, the safety bubble of this sanctuary keeping you both together. 

Joel asks instead—maybe not outright, but you can see the look in his eyes. Hopeful, for once. He quickly covers his tracks with, “I’m not sayin’ it’s a good idea, but if we run into each other it wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

But, knowing him—he’d have to explain that at some point. He could lie, that was always an option. Though, it didn’t seem like Joel was all that good at it.

‘I don’t think so either, but—”

Joel nods, reserved, “I get it, darlin’. I’m just sayin’, if I run into you ‘m not sure I could just ignore you.”

“And I’m not sayin’ I want you to—“ You sigh softly, attempting to mince your words so they don’t come out wrong or harsh, rather just indifferent, “but this,” your fingers wags vaguely between you both, “I think you and I know that it wouldn’t go over well outside of here.”

Public perception, the major differences in your stages of life, different experiences—it felt impossible. Not to mention, there was so much about Joel you didn’t know and it was scary.

You trusted him deeply, but only with what he’s willing to share and vice versa. 

This is all like a fever dream—a few more days and you’d be thrusted back into your normal life at the bookstore six days a week, living your dreary life out minute by minute. 

“Then let me have you here,” Joel says lowly, tone lingering with a softness, his hand cupping you cunt hesitantly, waiting for your cue, “while I still can.”

You nod earnestly, chewing at your bottom lip as you lifted your leg over his, attempting to curl your body around him, pulling him closer and in turn wrap him around you, both of you so intertwined you weren’t sure where either of you started or ended. You blink away the slightest sting of tears and kiss him, so hard he makes a muffled mmph sound at the pressure, but reciprocates it all the same.

He soon forgets moving things along quickly, deciding that this would be the time he could really allow himself to revel in it, pick you apart and put you back together again and give you all the attention you were yearning for in the moment. His hands slide around your cheeks, cradling your face gingerly as he kisses you back, slowly shifting until you’re under him and he’s got his thighs wedged under your legs, essentially barricading you beneath him, fleeting presses of his lips to your cheek, collarbone, down your chest and back up again, returning the action to him when he wasn’t so dead set on leaving you breathless, tongue licking into your mouth and your teeth clashing briefly as you both dove in a little too eagerly. 

Your hands fist into his shirt as they trail down his chest, pulling and rising until he gets the idea and slips the fabric over his head, palms flatting against his skin, blunt fingernails against his skin as you sigh into his mouth, his thumbs rubbing the memory of his fingerprints into your cheekbones with how tenderly he’s holding you, stopping briefly to rest his forehead against your own.

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly, though the words are deafening within the space, breaking the silence that had fallen over. “Joel—”

“Yeah—” He answers eventually, pulling away briefly to examine your face. You slowly allow your hands to find his face, fingers rubbing along his jaw, the scratchiness of his grown out facial hair and the way he swallows tensely under your touch, shrinking from your admiring gaze, “I’m okay.”

This feels like more than what this cabin can handle.

Maybe not love, but there was a line and it was being blurred. And if one of you hasn’t crossed it, this would be the moment.

You nod slowly, pulling at his wrist gently to guide it down abdomen and toward your underwear, his fingers rubbing gently over your cunt for a brief moment before you speak, “Then touch me—and stop thinking, please?”

Joel shuts his mind off and allows his heart and body to take hold, nodding slightly as he applies pressure, fingers rubbing into the growing wet spot between your legs, eyes locked on your face as you expression grows faint, eyes falling closed at his touch. 

“Hey, hey—” Joel calls out softly, “keep those eyes on me.”

You laugh airly, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as Joel slips his fingers beyond the fabric, aiding in the pull of fabric down your legs, disappearing somewhere under the sheets.

“You mind if I—” Joel nods toward where his fingers are leisurely working away, fingers running playfully along the seam of your cunt.

“You’re really fucking asking me that?” You respond, exasperated at him dragging things out, though he knows the response holds no anger or frustration. 

His chuckle is enough of a sign that he finds it entertaining how worked up you already were, descending the bed as he shoved the sheets away, spreading himself out comfortably between your legs as he moved them over his shoulders, your hands gripping the sheets were pried away and intertwined with Joel’s own fingers—it feels so wholly intimate you want to melt away, but the thought is interrupted as his tongue dips inside of you, hole fluttering at the touch.

“Hu-Oh—” You sigh shakily, squeezing his hands as he laps at your pussy, tongue flattening out as flicks at your clit, sucking gently before swiftly guiding your hands into his air, ultimately deciding that this pace was far too torturous for not just you, but himself. “Jo—Joel—”

“Shhh, baby,” He soothes you, gripping the underside of your thighs like he has before, but only lifting them up enough to allow him some actual leverage, asserting himself as buried his face into your cunt and directed all his focus on your aching clit, his eyes locked on your own all the while. Your mouth drops open in a desperate whine, yanking firmly at his hair and causing Joel’s eyes to roll back slightly.

And you wish you could say you held out, that it didn’t take some expertised flicks of his tongue and his suckling at your clit to have you gushing against his mouth, coming with a moan that rips from your throat unexpectedly, leaving you both breathless as Joel pulls away. 

If you both had any patience you’d allow a moment to speak, let the moment of reprieve flow in and break the obvious tension, unspoken and wading just below the surface. 

Instead, Joel’s restraint breaks free.

He shoves his underwear down his hips and you could’ve swore they disappeared into thin air before Joel is slotting himself between your legs, sliding into with one fluid push of his hips as he leans over you, moaning into each other’s skin as you wrap around one another again. 

The intimacy is overwhelming. But, in the way that it makes your entire body go hot, blocking out everything but Joel and the soft grunts of pleasure he was attempting to keep at bay.

Strangers didn’t love like this.

But, you weren’t strangers anymore.

“Joel, hey,” Your voice is featherlight and sweet, rubbing at the back of his head as he pulls back, lips in a defined pout as he look at you, fucking into you at a pace that is agonizingly slow but necessary, “I like hearing you—no holding back, okay?”

It does Joel in completely, his arms scooping up behind your shoulder blades to haul you into his lap, a brief moment of tangled limbs as you adjusted yourself while he leaned back, calves tucked underneath him but his legs splayed wide enough that you sat comfortably, your hand guiding his cock to slip back inside of you with ease, your bodies connected at every possible point.

“Fuck—baby,” He swears, his mouth pressed into the point where your neck meets your jaw, aiding the slowly increasing rock and bounce of your hips, “like that–gonna need you to give me ‘nother one, alright?”

Baby, baby, baby. 

You were addicted to the way it sounds falling from his lips—how he means it.

You nod, though blindly, eyes squeezed shut as you don’t feel far off from another orgasm, so wholly turned on that it seemed impossible. 

Joel had a way with you, like years of exploring and learning and knowing all wrapped into a few weeks—this stuff was kismet, meant to be. It had to be that way. There was no other explanation for it.

“Answer me.” Joel urges, sounding more composed but still strained.

“Yes—yes,” You answer without hesitation, “I’ll try.”

Joel laughs softly, nipping at your jawline, pistoning his hips at a speed that had your arms gripping him tighter, “Hmm—no try, darlin’. You will.”

You squeal as Joel quickly switches positions again, laying out on your back while he settled between your legs in the same position, hooking your knees over his hips as he guided himself into you seamlessly, guiding your hand toward your cunt wordlessly.

Oh—he wanted you to come with him. 

And he wanted to enjoy watching you–he does, while you did it and came apart around him, cunt tightening around his cock so snug it pulled the air out of his chest, your fingers working tirelessly over your clit, moaning loud and drawn out.

“So fuckin’ wet, baby—” He grunts, if the soft squelch was any indication. In any other situation you were sure you’d be mortified at such a callout, but Joel manages to ignite that fire in your core, squeezing down on him with his words, “Yeah—like how good I make you feel?”

You nod wordlessly, but Joel doesn’t accept that. 

You can see he’s almost there, his hips faltering slightly as his brow pinched together.

“So fuckin’ good, Joel.” You tell him, “No fuckin’ idea how good you make me feel.”

Joel pulls out swiftly, jerking himself with a stroke before he’s coming over your bare cunt, nearly allowing himself a slip-up with how lost in his mind he was. He collapses on you immediately after, uncaring as your bodies mix with his cum, cradling Joel in your arms as much as he allows, your breaths melding together after time.

This was different.

Joel carefully cleans you up when he finds the energy to move before allowing you to take a quick shower, a pair of his own spare pajamas waiting on the bed for you as you switch turns, him disappearing into the bathroom as the door clicks shut.

When he returns, you curl against each other instinctively. There were no words to be shared, no looks to be stolen, but a silence you both found comforting. 

You were going to miss Joel and it felt terrible. 

But, Joel was going to miss you and that devastated him.

You fall asleep long before Joel, who sits up thinking off all the reasons he wouldn’t have to let you go, knowing you were already slipping through his fingers.

-

The rest of your vacation is bittersweet, a few days of cleaning and tidying up the place, but also of endless talks—attempting to absorb as much about each other as possible.

“Bullshit,” You retorted, finger pressed against his chest as you sat beside him on the couch, body halfway turned toward him, “you cannot play guitar.”

“I can, I have,” Joel says matter-of-factly, “You know—I was your age a time ago.”

“I want proof.” You challenge.

“You’re gonna have to take my word, darlin’.” He tells you. “Had a band and everything. We recorded some songs, but they never saw the light of day.”

“No fucking way.”

Joel rolls his eyes, pressing his lips to yours in a desperation to shut you up.

It works.

But, the final night is what has you both clinging to each other with no urgency to let go.

Hours upon hours of mindless conversation, too scared to allow the other to fall asleep in fear that you’ll wake up and you’ll have to face the reality of the next morning.

You were leaving, Joel was leaving.

Separate ways, both of you.

And you can’t remember which one of you caves first, but it isn’t without fight.

-

Joel packs with a quiet finality, helping you lug your bags into his old truck too. He seems troubled, distant, worried about you and far, far more.

You want to comfort him, but you fear it will only worsen things.

Joel promised to drive you back into town after enough deliberation, unwilling to let you go just yet and stretching out the time he had with you—driving you far enough that you could order car service to get you to your apartment in Austin, just inside the city and away from the suburbs.

But, the brief moment you have before he leaves you is something that engraves itself into your mind, lingers for long, long after you leave him.

Joel kisses you fully, tenderly—well beyond anything without meaning. He’s kissing you with everything he has to offer, feeling like you might lift off your feet at how full of love it makes you feel, gripping his wrist to hold him near as he cradles your face.

“Can’t let you go.” He says quietly, so quietly you almost don’t catch it

“Hey,” You lean into his eyesight, pulling his gaze to your face, “It’s okay.”

He doesn’t understand how you seem so calm, despite how broken you feel inside.

But, you do know one thing—as someone who spent an entire holiday with a complete stranger who you didn’t just come to befriend but to care about—that anything was possible.

“If it’s meant to happen, we’ll find each other again.” You tell him, eyes full of hope.

Joel laughs softly, though bitterly. He pulls you into a tight hug and sways, soaking in the final moments of you and how you feel, the soft hitch of your breath as he squeezes you gently, giggling in his ear.

“Gonna miss the hell out of you.” He admits.

“Me too, Joel.” You tell him honestly, “Seriously.”

Joel wasn’t sure how he could recover from something like this, but he would try. He’d push it down deep and go on about life, forget all the good and drown in the awful, like he usually did.

“I’m gonna get your money back,” He jokes weakly, “for the cabin—just give me a few weeks.”

“Joel, it’s okay.” You tell him through a subtle blinking of tears, but Joel notices, wiping them away silently as you pull back to look at him. “Best fuckin’ money I’ve ever spent.”

“God, how are you real?” 

You hum softly, “Well, maybe I’m not. Maybe you did just imagine me up.”

“For my sanity, I hope to god you’re real, darlin’.”

It’s a lame joke, but Joel feels the need to reiterate it.

The car pulls up shortly after, allowing you to give him one last nearly suffocating hug before he finally lets you go, despite how badly he wanted to hold on.

“Goodbye, Joel.”

“I’ll be seein’ you, darlin’.”

Maybe he only meant it as a hopeful utterance into existence, that if putting it out there it would somehow come true. But, Joel knew it to be true. This wouldn’t be the last time and he felt that to his core, watching your bittersweet wave as you climbed into the car, bags all packed in the trunk courtesy of the driver.

You had hope too.

And only time would tell.

(Guys, there's an epilogue (coming December 30th). Please don't yell at me lol. I promise this isn't going to end on a horrible note and you won't want to hunt me down)

[auncyen]

SO WHEN I STARTED Sif having a bad King fight and then freezing (which lead to Isa and Mira being sad), I'd. kind of wondered where that left Loop, and that's like the one part I wanted to get to, even if I don't plan on writing past that.

Loop is...not doing that great. I'm still figuring out how exactly this conversation would go (Odile wasn't planned at first LOL) but yeah there's a lot of "UM":

You got better. You got to leave the infirmary, though they still wanted you to stay in the House itself for a bit, just in case something happened, rather than being all the way out in the clocktower. You didn't mind, because you felt you needed to be here.

Sif wasn't getting better. They were still frozen on the highest floor of the House. You started helping M'dame with the research she was doing in the library, including the secret library after Euphrasie entrusted her with the knowledge. She raised an eyebrow when you started skimming through tomes and summarizing the chapters aloud to judge if you should give it a closer look, put it back on the shelf, or put it in the 'maybe' pile--only tangentially relevant to healing Craft or Time Craft, but sometimes writers do go on illuminating tangents. "I, uh, used to be a huge nerd," you muttered, because it didn't feel like the time to hide your smarts when Siffrin needed a cure.

Odile looked surprised for a few seconds. "Interesting. I'd wondered."

"You'd…wondered?"

"You're the only man I've ever heard sound smarter with three drinks in him. I'm curious, but it's fine if you don't want to talk about it. We've business right now, anyway."

You did indeed have business. Unfortunately, it was a bust; none of the books you found had an insight into healing a powerful Time Craft curse that M'dame or Mira hadn't already considered. Mira looked increasingly tired and miserable by the day, and at the end of the week Bonbon came in the House to visit Sif and came down yelling because someone had left flowers at his frozen form and that wasn't right, it wasn't right, because Frin was going to unfreeze and be greeted by dead flowers and that would suck, and if someone had left them flowers the way you would at a grave that was even worse because Frin wasn't dead. Bonbon was very clearly more worked up at the idea of Sif being considered 'dead' than Sif waking up to see dead flowers, but you promised them that yeah! You'd tell everyone to wait to give Sif flowers until they were able to appreciate them again. Because of course Sif was going to be able to appreciate flowers again.

You didn't want to think about the other possibility any more than Bonnie did.

The four of you were all stuck in a painful limbo. The Housemaidens and townspeople didn't seem to know if they should treat you as heroes to be celebrated or glass vases ready to shatter, and as much as you tried to smile you felt increasingly brittle. It was kind of a relief when a new issue popped up: there was a stranger at the Favor Tree.

So, strangers usually weren't a problem. Most strangers are nice! Accepting the change that strangers may bring is a key part of the Change faith!

…Most strangers, even if they had different ways of dress and custom, still looked…well. People weren't sure if the stranger was even human? According to the scattered descriptions, they had a human-shaped body, but the skin was like the night sky stuck over the House when it was frozen, and on top of the body was not a head, but a spiky orb radiating light. Some people were scared the stranger might not be a person at all, but some new kind of Sadness left over from Vaugarde's ordeal, or even the King's creation, since…well, yeah. He'd pinned the night sky over the House while he was controlling it. And he'd had stars on his armor. And the night-sky stranger was lurking at the tree, hiding, which unnerved people once they noticed the new and unusual presence. One of the kids had gotten bold enough (he'd been dared) to approach the tree anyway, trying to call out the stranger to talk, and had gotten frightened by an inhuman voice snapping at him to go away. So. Even if this was a human stranger who'd done extreme Body Craft beyond what anyone in Dormont knew to be possible, they were a rude human stranger who'd decided to take over a town's Favor Tree.

…That was the best case scenario. At worst, they were something created by the King.

You decided that as an ex-Defender you were probably the most qualified to have a talk with the stranger and try to figure out who (or what) they were, why they'd taken over the Favor Tree, if there was an alternate arrangement you could work out… or to take them on if they proved hostile.

M'dame decided you were under no circumstances to do this alone, regardless of how well you'd been feeling lately, so she was accompanying you to the Tree. Which you had no complaints with! M'dame was good backup. You got to the base of the tree, standing under its crown. You didn't see anything yet, but the small handful of townspeople who'd seen the stranger had said they'd always ducked behind the tree or had already been hiding behind it, allowing only glimpses of them. They must have already hidden. "Hello, stranger?" you called. "I'm Isabeau, a Defender from Jouvente. Well…ex-Defender, but, um! My colleague and I would like to talk with you?"

"So now we're colleagues?" Odile murmured to you, smirking even as she scrutinized the tree ahead of you.

"Well!" You lower your voice, flustered. "That's how I was used to approaching people on the job."

"I'm teasing, Isabeau."

You know, you know. It still flustered you.

…Although the lack of response was quickly growing more concerning. "Stranger?" you called. "Are you there? Can you talk?"

Still nothing, except for the faint sound of grass being stepped on, like someone was shifting their weight. Odile huffed. "You go right around the tree, I'll go left--"

"Go away!"

You jumped at the voice. The kid's description really hadn't done it justice, mostly because it was inhuman, crackling in a way you'd never expect from a human throat. But after the brief shock, you moved to stop Odile from going around the tree. "M'dame, wait."

"What?"

"I think they're scared." The way the kid had described it, the voice had been threatening, but the kid had probably already been scared himself. Underneath the strange crackling, the intonation, the way the pitch had wavered… it sounded like the stranger was panicking. You didn't want to make that worse; you might force a confrontation where none was needed. "Listen," you said, raising your voice again. "You don't have to come out right now if you don't want to, but we still need to talk. Okay?"

"…Fine."

"First things first, are you all right?"

"That's your first concern?" The crackling voice was tight, almost sarcastic.

"Um, yeah?" It was now. "Look, people have been getting worried about you hiding out here, but… it's not like you've been trying to scare anyone, right? You've been keeping to yourself."

"I didn't mean to scare that kid. I haven't scared anyone else, unless people are scared of beautiful stars!"

So the stranger…didn't consider themself a person, but a star? Like in the sky?

"People are, in fact, a bit wary of strange stars after the King," Odile pointed out, which! 100% true!! But not something to point out right now!

The stranger immediately got upset, the crackling in their voice sharpening. "So, what, the King has a monopoly on stars now? Isn't he dead? It's not like you beat him with the power of friendship. Oh, King, I'm sure there's a reason you're doing this! We don't have to fight!" The stranger scoffed. "I know that didn't happen."

"The King is dead," Odile confirmed. "You didn't know?"

"You think I can just walk into town and ask questions looking like this?"

You and Odile looked at each other. Some of the tightness left Odile's posture. "They're acting scared," she said, and you knew from that word choice she hadn't ruled out yet the possibility that it was only an act. But she was willing to give the benefit of the doubt for now. "Isabeau, you're better at this, you talk to them."

…Well. Hm. They didn't seem all right, but they also hadn't answered straight when you asked about that. Maybe they weren't ready to talk about themself yet. "If you've got any other questions, we can try answering?" you offered. "I'm Isabeau, he/him, and M'dame Odile uses she/her."

"…They/them for me."

Odile arched an eyebrow. "But no name?"

"No, my turn for questions!" the strange voice said, but then it fell silent for a moment. Were they still scared, or struggling to think of any? You folded your arms and waited, not wanting to rush them. "You're…two of the Saviors. Is, um, the Housemaiden--Housemaiden Mirabelle okay?"

The question made Odile frown. "Why do you ask?"

"It's a little strange that you came out here to talk to me without her, if you thought I might have anything to do with the King. Not that I do!" the voice said quickly. "Good riddance."

"Three-on-one would be pretty intimidating," you point out. That's exactly the reasoning you would have told Mira if she'd asked to come along, too… but the truth is, she didn't know you were out here. Even though her long quest was done, the stress hadn't disappeared, and Siffrin's condition wasn't helping anyone. You hadn't wanted to toss more on her plate. "We were hoping for a nice talk! Anyway, she's fine." Burnt out, but time would surely help.

Time, and Siffrin getting better.

"And the kid traveling with you? They're fine too?"

They knew about Bonnie? "They're fine too. We kept them away from the fighting."

"I know, but--" The voice stopped abruptly.

"You know?" That…was kind of odd, especially with how quickly they'd shut up, like they hadn't meant to let it slip. You'd reassured more than a couple people that Bonnie didn't actually fight with you, was only tagging along with your group because even if they weren't old enough to fight they were old enough to decide where they wanted to be and they'd made it very clear they'd chase after the group if they were left behind. So the star could have learned that secondhand, but that seemed unlikely if they were afraid to approach people with their appearance. Along with the slip, it made you wonder… "Did you, um. Did we meet you before the Body Craft? …Is that Body Craft?" You cringed a little. "Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but--"

"It's okay. I, uh, I've been told how I look right now."

You immediately felt a pit open up in your stomach. They hadn't seen for themself how they looked? There was no way this could be Body Craft, then, at least not the way you knew it. No one in their right mind would Body Craft themselves without being able to track the process. But 'right now' implied there had been a Change. Odile had caught that too, her expression torn between wariness and alarm.

[loudclan-clangen]

HEY so the last ask reminded me that this is set in Alaska! As someone who used to live there it makes me very happy to see, so just for fun I brainstormed lore ideas/questions for a Clan there n I thought id share :) this is Long lmao i apologize

The terrain for one thing. Growing up I remember all the horror stories of people getting stuck in muskeg and not being able to get out before the tide comes in. so that’s always freaky, but i imagine that if theres any in the area then the cats might try and take advantage of it as safely as they can? for prey and such. on that note whats their water situation like anyways? braided rivers?

any specific ideas for what area of mountains the cats are in? are they in the higher ranges, the ones wrapped up in clouds, the rocky kind like the ones around Denali? the greener ones with all the trees? is their territory frequented by hikers and/or tourists or are they relatively untouched wilderness? I think i remember it being said that LoudClan is somewhere more towards the south, is it intended to be generally vague? :0

Predators!!!! The cats can deal with all sorts of unique stuff in a setting like this, bears n lynxes n wolves… eagles… possibly even wolverines since theyre up in the mountains? i’d be curious to see how a clan would react to a wolf pack passing through the area lol. also ive always just loved the concept of a queen finding an abandoned lynx kitten or smth and unknowingly adopting it and it just keeps… getting bigger… whoops… oh well its the clans weird child now

So many fun lil prey animals too, ground squirrels n ptarmigans n such!! I bet ptarmigans would totally harass cats during breeding season and that could be funny. maybe standard apprentice training is to learn the different ground squirrel alarm calls. maybe they even sometimes encounter dalls or caribou or moose on patrols (perhaps moose have even been known to kill before, so theyre considered dangerous).

Also just….. the day-night cycle??? I’d honestly be pretty interested to see how that ties in, like it’s daylight forever in the summer-early autumn and pretty much perpetually nighttime in the winter-early breakup. do the cats have any thoughts or beliefs towards that? do they like to look up at the northern lights, and listen when theyre so clear that they can hear them?

Okok thats all now sorry. I got way too excited lol i miss AK sm, i left when i was little 💔 if any of this has been discussed already in a lore post then ignore me its been a hot minute and i rattled this off on a whim!!!

Love this! Okay, let me try to hit all of these questions in a way that will hopefully be understandable for everyone so if you're the asker please skip past the definitions/backstory.

A 'muskeg' is like a swamp or a bog. I assume that you're referring to the area outside of Anchorage that we always called the 'Mud-Flats", because that's where I heard stories of people getting stuck. (Specifically there's a very famous urban legend of a soldier stationed in Anchorage who went out with his buddies, got stuck up to his waist, ended up tied to a helicopter, and when they tried to pull him out with the helicopter he uh... separated. And his legs can supposedly still be found in the flats. (I WANT TO CLARIFY THAT THIS IS NOT TRUE. THERE WAS A SOLDIER, HE GOT STUCK, HE DROWNED, THE SEPARATION HAPPENED AFTER HE WAS DEAD AND THEY TRIED TO RETRIEVE THE BODY. THEY DID GET HIS LEGS BACK TO MY KNOWLEDGE.)) It's pretty much a long stretch of quicksand (but it's like more mud and silt than sand? idk how to really describe it i haven't been there much cause ya know, hearing stories like that will kinda cure your curiosity as a kid.)

Anyway, Ghostclan's territory used to be Mud-Flats, but long before the cats moved in twolegs came and installed the Rip Rap (big jagged rocks that are placed on the coastline to keep it from erroding) that make up Freezingclan's territory and that kinda took some of the danger out of it. Since the tide no longer comes up so high, while getting stuck is certainly not a good thing, it's not a death sentence as clanmates have time to gather help and dig you out. Though it does make it hard/near impossible to launch an attack on Ghostclan without an insider to lead you around the wet spots. Larger prey can sometimes be found stuck in the mud, having died from exhaustion, but the wetness causes the meat to rot quickly, and what is left draws the attention of larger predators, while also adding the issue of having to avoid getting stuck as you retrieve it, so it's not really a reliable source of food as much as it is a last resort. Ghostclan also contains the territory's braided river, which the cats call the "Friendly River" because it's three smaller streams that meet up into one large one. (I didn't do the best job rendering this on the map but that is what I was trying to represent. I'm not a landscape person, I'm doing my best.) Because the territory is a narrow valley set right on the coast they don't have a ton of room for the rivers to braid, but the thought was there!

It is intented to be generally vague, because I'm not an expert on geography and I live a couple of hours from this exact area, I didn't want to say "yeah it's here" and then have people correct me with minute little things. Plus if it's entirely made up then I can alter things to my liking. But the territory is inspired by the land along the Seward highway, where on one side it's these big mountains and on the other it's just a short sloping coastline. It looks like this in real life:

(You can even see the railroad and layer of rip rap that I included in the territory map) I imagine it's a place where the road veers inland so that the clans can have more space to roam. While the railroad runs through the mountain the highway is just on the other side of it. The mountains here are nowhere as tall as Denali, but they aren't anything to scoff at either. I imagine them being something like this, (which I believe is Exit Glacier?):

The lower areas are densely forested with tall trees and thick shrubs, but the greenery gets thinner and shorter as the elevation rises until you get to the higher ridges and peak which is pretty much just rock. Loudclan camp would be located at the transition point between grass and rock, so that there is no place above them where their enemies might hide and wait to pounce. As for humans, the territory used to belong to a small mining town. They dug the mine, installed the rip rap, built the buildings, and leveled the area of the mountain that Loudclan camp is set on, but over time resources dried up and people left. Now it's nearly untouched save the railroad, which still runs through the mountain regardless of whether there's a stop there anymore. The fact that you have to either cross railroad tracks or mountains to get to it, and its remote nature mean that hikers don't usually put in the energy to venture that way. (My mom grew up in Sutton, a former coal mining town and railway hub that was long past it's glory days by the time she was born and so this fictional town is kind of an omage to that).

The cats absolutely will interact with unique predators! The game has done me the favor of adding in wolverines already (and let me tell you, they cause PROBLEMS), but the cats might also face off against an aggressive little ermine (which are much fiercer than their appearance would have you believe) or even find themselves stumbling upon a blackbear gorging on blueberries early in the fall. They aren't really in the correct area for a wolf pack (and to my knowledge i don't remember writing about any) but who knows what's to come? Okay, now onto Lynx. Up until about 30 seconds ago I was under the impression that domestic cats and lynx could hybridize. Why did I think that? Well because everyone and their mother up her SWEARS that their female cat got out and mated with a lynx at one point or another. That or their big long hair tom cat is part lynx. So who was I to question whether that could even happen? Well apparently it can't but oops, too late, already headcannoned that several characters are part lynx so fuck it. These cats are special. They've speciated. Juneaucliff's dad was a Lynx. What are you gonna do about it? Huh? Regardless, yes, the cats do interact with Lynx, but they speak the same language, so it's a bit of a different situation. It probably won't be mentioned unless people ask about specific characters, but anyone with ear tufts/unusually large stature/big paws may have been descended from a lynx at some point.

The prey animals I think are more dangerous than the predators honestly. So many of them are specifically adapted to the terrain in ways that the cats aren't. Imagine chasing a snowshoe hare across the mountainside, following directly in their tracks only to suddenly feel the snow fall away beneath you, because while their big feet allow them to skid across the crevasse without disturbing the crust of the snow, you're just a little bit too heavy and you sink a bit to far and now you're falling to your death. You're sitting on the edge of the river during a salmon run, watching an eagle dive down to grab a fish. What are the chances it changes it's mind and grabs you? A cat weighs a lot less than a king salmon. And moose would be a danger. 9/10 they won't even glance twice at you but the one time you get unlucky enough to jump down from a tree and land between a cow and her calf? Maybe with no snow a cat could outrun a moose but those long legs mean that there's no feasible escape in the colder months. Even in the warmer months a cat can be trampled by a herd of caribou if they aren't vigilant while walking along the flat lands of the valley. Ptarmagins are easy food, but they're annoying and they spook off every other kind of prey within their designated "territory" and are just generally a nuisance. Some of them are useful, though, Dall sheep wool is is great for insulating nests and shed antlers from moose and caribou can be used to strengthen camp walls and build dens or can be broken into smaller sections to splint broken bones.

The day/night cycle absolutely plays into it! That's why starclan moved into the Black Water Pool. It's the only place where night always exists. In moon 14 Part 2 Twistedtail explains to Wildfirecry that starclan had to move, saying "We couldn't survive there. Not when the sun silenced the stars for seasons at a time". Many cats believe that their ancestors can't see them while the stars are hidden, that the light of the sun blinds them, and therefore are more likely to do devious things in the summer when the sun never leaves the sky in order to avoid punishment. They don't live far north enough to experience perpetual night but even so, only having 6 hours of daylight in the winter does make patrolling and hunting much more difficult. As of right now, the northern lights mean something different to every cat. They each interpret them/were taught to believe something unique about them. Are they the last words of dead cats frozen in the air? Are they the souls of your ancestors dancing across the sky? Maybe they're a sign from starclan, demanding that the lead healer come speak to them at the black water or a sign of good luck for a little born beneath them. No one really knows, except for that they're something important. (I'm not committing to anything cause they could be used in so many interesting ways that i don't wanna limit myself ya know?)

anyway, thank you for the ask, this was so fun to talk about! My apologies for not answering as many asks as I had hoped to over my break, I was on a trip and then had to buckle down on school work and then got sick (just a cold. im fine) but things are looking good for a beginning of July return time still! (Note because I know what tumblr reading comprehension is like: I'm not returned quite yet. I still have to write a paper for school. But soon! Yay!) If you have asked an ask in the past month: I'm so sorry please be patient. There's so many of you. If you were sending me actual, physical mail I would be completely buried in it. I love it, and hope you keep doing it, but... just know it might be a minute... or two... or ten.

[freedomfireflies]

iFall for Harry pt. 5

Summary: Harry's got a proposition.

And you're not sure you're ready for it.

Word Count: 1.3k (SHE'S A BABY, I KNOW, BUT I GOTTA SET UP THE BIG STUFF)

(Previous parts to this series are down below at the end!)

So…what’s the appropriate, normal, non-creepy amount of time to wait after fucking your fist to the sound of somebody’s voice over the phone before texting them?

You grin to yourself when you see the text message slide down on your screen, your lip between your teeth as you click on his name.

Well, considering you could have a heart attack and keel over at any moment, I’d say the sooner the better.

How did I know you’d say that?

Cause I’m just so gosh darn charming.

Oh, is that what you are?

You seemed to think so when you were begging me to let you come.

…I wasn’t begging, I was just asking…really…nicely.

Whatever helps you sleep at night.

I sleep a lot better after that phone call.

Yeah?

Yeah. Except for the fact that I wake up hard as a fucking rock and leaking into my boxers, but…whatever.

Yum. I mean…yikes. Sounds painful. 

 Careful, Cheese Girl. Or I might just call you again.

And what would be so bad about that?

Well, for one, I quite literally don’t think there’s any fucking come left in my body.

…I don’t know if I needed to hear that.

Why? Have you fallen in love?

Oh, is that what this strange feeling in my chest is? Love? Huh, I thought it was heartburn.

Aww, are you saying your heart burns for me?

I’m saying you’re lucky your number isn’t blocked.

You’d never block me. You think about me too much.

Who says I think about you?

Do you?

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes glued to the screen as you contemplate a response.

You could lie to him. After all, he wouldn’t know the difference.

But…it would be a lie.

You do think about him. Far more than you care to admit.

The only problem…is that you don’t want to think about him.

After all, what would telling him even do? It’s not like anything could ever happen outside of the occasional phone sex.

You don’t even know the man.

But…what if you want to?

Yeah, I do. When it’s late at night and I can’t sleep.

A solid minute passes before he finally sends his response.

What did I just say? Are you trying to fucking kill me?

If you can survive a heart attack, you can survive this.

I would never survive you.

You’re not sure if this is meant to be a compliment or an insult…but your heart flutters, nonetheless.

Oops, sorry. Bad time? Are you in another meeting?

Nah. Out by the pool. 

That sounds nice. It’s fucking freezing here.

And where is here...exactly? If you don’t mind my asking.

Again, you hesitate. He could be a catfish…or a stalker…or just a fucking creep.

Or maybe he’s just curious. Maybe he wants to get to know you. And it’s not like you’d be telling him your exact address. Just…maybe a vague description of where you are in the country.

I’m guessing Los Angeles from your area code. 

And I only know that because I also have a Los Angeles area code. 

Which you can probably tell, so I don’t know why I said it.

And now I’m rambling, and you aren’t responding, and I think I freaked you out.

As the texts continue to roll in, you have to smirk, slightly relieved by how adorably flustered he is.

You can almost hear each response in his voice.

That sexy fucking voice.

Easy, Gramps. I lived in Los Angeles for a few years, but I’m in New York now.

Ah, the Big Apple. Nice. I like New York, but you’re right, it’s fucking freezing.

Do you come a lot? To New York I mean.

Uh huh. Sure, you did. And yes. To both.

Very nice. Any particular reason?

Well, sometimes it’s because I'm remembering that phone call. But other times it’s because I’m dreaming about that phone call. Either way, I’m just always thinking about you.

Your stomach flips.

I meant any particular reason you come to New York so often, you twat.

Oh, right. Yeah, I do a lot of business there. Or business-related things.

I see.

Suddenly, the chat goes quiet. Far too quiet, and as the minutes begin to tick by…you feel a strange tingle begin to crawl its way up the back of your throat.

And then—

“…hello?”

“Hi.” Harry. His voice. Breathless and seemingly rattled. “Sorry. I just…I figured if I didn’t call, I’d never say it? And I wanted to hear your reaction instead of just staring at those goddamn bubbles until I shit myself.”

A little surprised, you stand up from your desk and begin to pace toward the kitchen. “No, it’s fine. Are you…okay?”

“I’m…no. Yes, no. I’m fine.”

“…yes, no?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he repeats. “Sorry. I’m…shit. This isn’t going how I wanted it to.”

Your eyebrows raise. 

“I…so, here’s the thing,” he tries again. “There’s a thing. And I know we…don’t know each other, so we don’t really do things…but there’s a thing. That maybe…could be a thing. Like, an us thing.”

“…Harry?”

“…yeah?”

“You’re rambling again.”

You hear him exhale a laugh before there’s a bit of noise and he clears his throat. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m…I do that. When I’m nervous.”

“I see. And why are you nervous?”

“’Cause of…the thing.”

“Ah.” You nod, despite the fact that he can’t see you. “Well…why don’t you tell me what this thing is.”

“Right.” More noise. “So…the thing. I’m…gonna be in New York this week.”

He goes quiet then, as if giving you time to process what he’s saying.

What he’s implying.

“Oh,” you breathe, the realization weighing heavy on your chest. 

“Yeah.” Another beat. “Look, I don’t…I’m not expecting us to meet. I don’t…that’s weird, I know. But…fuck, honestly? All I keep thinking about…is asking you. And I know it’s fucking weird. I know that but I had to ask you. ’Cause it would drive me nuts if I didn’t.”

A long stretch of silence passes between you as your mind begins to work overtime to create any sort of response.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” he adds after a moment, almost sounding embarrassed. “Or at all. I don’t…I really don’t expect anything, but…I’ll be in the city on Friday. And…if you do want to meet…I’ll be at Ellen’s Stardust Diner. At twelve. You could…I don’t know, peek in? See if I look…worth your time? I don’t know. I’m…shit, sorry. I thought this would go better.”

“No, I—” Your eyes squeeze shut. “I’ll…I’ll think about it.”

“Really?” He clears his throat again. “Fuck, sorry. I’m cool. Uh…really. Interesting. Okay, got it. Good to know.”

You smile to yourself as you lean against your kitchen island. “Oh yeah, you are so cool.”

“The coolest—hey, look, I’ve…I’ve gotta go,” he sighs, and for some reason, you feel your heart sink. “I know I keep doing that, and I swear I didn’t mean to drop this on you and then disappear, I’ve just…I’ve…”

“More meetings?” you guess, and you hear him take another breath.

“Yeah. S’always more fucking meetings, and more fucking shit I’m apparently doing wrong.” 

Your expression softens. “I see. Well…good luck.”

“Thanks.” A beat. “So…you’ll think about it?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“’Cause you can tell me if I’m just too attractive for you to actually meet. I’ll believe you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would.”

“Good,” he chuckles. “Okay, I really do have to go now.”

“Hey, I’m just waiting for you to hang up.”

“Honestly, it might be easier if you hang up first. I don’t really think I have the strength to hang up on you.”

There he fucking goes again. 

You tug your lip between your teeth. “Bye, Harry.”

“Yeah…bye, Cheese Girl. Maybe see you Friday.”

You grin.

“Yeah. Maybe see you Friday.”

Next part! ~ iFall for Harry pt. 6

Previous parts:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 4*

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Buck turned to Tommy, a curious expression on his face. "Hey, Tommy, I've been wondering... are you a gold star gay?" he asked, his voice casual yet inquisitive.

Tommy nearly choked on his drink, caught off guard by the sudden question. "What?" he sputtered, coughing as he tried to regain his composure.

"Oh, a gold star gay is-" Buck began to explain, but Tommy quickly cut him off.

"No, Ev, I know what it is," Tommy said, shaking his head with a wry smile. "And no, I'm not one."

"Tommy, do you think I qualify as a twunk?" Buck asked, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. Before Tommy could even process the question, Buck continued, "And would you consider yourself a wolf?"

Tommy's head was spinning at the rapid-fire questions Buck was throwing his way. He took a moment to compose himself, trying to process the unexpected turn their conversation had taken.

"Okay, hold on a second," Tommy said, holding up his hands in a gesture of pause. "First of all, where is all this coming from? What's with the sudden interest in gay terminology?"

Buck shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I don't know, I guess I'm just curious. I mean, we're both queer but we've never really talked about this stuff before."

Tommy couldn't help but smile at Buck's enthusiasm. He knew that once something piqued Buck's interest, he would dive headfirst into researching every aspect of it. It was one of the many things Tommy loved about him - his insatiable thirst for knowledge and his eagerness to share what he'd learned.

"I've been reading up on gay subcultures and identities," Buck continued, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Did you know that there are so many different labels and categories within the community? It's fascinating!"

Tommy leaned back, preparing himself for the inevitable info dump that was about to come his way. He loved watching Buck get animated about a new topic, his hands gesturing wildly as he shared all the interesting tidbits he'd discovered.

"So, apparently, a twunk is a twink who's more muscular, like a cross between a twink and a hunk. And a wolf is typically an older, more masculine guy who's attracted to younger, more slender men," Buck rattled off, barely pausing to take a breath.

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Ev, you never cease to amaze me with your ability to absorb and retain information."

Buck grinned, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I just find it all so interesting, you know? Learning about the different identities and experiences within our community. It helps me feel more connected, like I'm part of something bigger."

Tommy reached out, taking Buck's hand in his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I love that about you, baby. Your curiosity, your passion for learning."

Buck's expression softened, his eyes shining with affection. "And I love that you always indulge me.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Tommy said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Buck's lips. "Now, tell me more about these wolves and twunks. I have a feeling I'm about to get a full education."

Tommy couldn't help but chuckle as Buck enthusiastically delved into the intricacies of gay subcultures and identities. He loved seeing his boyfriend so passionate about a topic, his eyes alight with curiosity and eagerness to share his newfound knowledge.

However, as Buck continued to rattle off various terms and labels, Tommy felt the need to set a playful boundary. With a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, he held up his hand in a mock gesture of surrender.

"Alright, Ev, Like I said I love your enthusiasm and I'm all for learning more about our community," Tommy said, his tone light and teasing. "But fair warning - if you start throwing around terms like 'bussy,' I might have to tap out."

Buck let out a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Okay, okay, I get it. No need to venture into the more, uh, colorful parts of gay slang. I just get so excited about all this stuff, you know? It's like a whole new world to explore."

The way his boyfriend's eyes lit up with each new piece of information, the animated way he gestured as he spoke - it was all so quintessentially Evan and Tommy was enamored by it.

"You know," Tommy said, a fond smile playing on his lips, "watching you get so excited about learning new things is just about the most adorable sight in the world. I could listen to you talk about anything that catches your interest, for hours on end."

Buck's expression turned tender, his eyes shining with affection. "And I love that you're always here to listen, even when I'm geeking out over gay subcultures."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Tommy said, tugging Buck closer.

Buck grinned, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Well, lucky for you, I've got plenty more to share. Did you know there's a whole subset of the community known as 'otters'?"

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "I can't say that I did, but I have a feeling I'm about to find out."

"Oh, you bet you are," Buck said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But first, what do you say we order some pizza and cuddle up on the couch? I think this calls for a cozy night in, don't you?"

"That sounds perfect," Tommy agreed, pressing a soft kiss to Buck's forehead. "You order the pizza, I'll grab the blankets, and then you can enlighten me on the world of otters and any other fascinating subcultures you've discovered."

As they settled in for a night of good food, great company, and endless learning, Tommy couldn't help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.

[silverofthunder]

☆ swept into my heart ☆

Cardinal Copia x Fem Reader

🔞 MDNI 🔞 (not really smut, but suggestive stuff, so...)

summary: "Yet sometimes you got to take a risk and lay out your heart even if it might get broken."

content: 2.1k words, romance, suggestive stuff, just feelings

I've been a bit stressed out lately and I haven't written much. I wanted to write something, and this piece was born. What is plot? I don't know her. I didn't really have a plan or anything, I just wrote and this came out. Also, first time writing Cardinal. This is not my best work - this was probably the hardest one to write so far for some reason. But I'm glad I finished this!

You were cleaning the hallway close to Cardinal's room, mopping the floor while humming along the music playing on your headphones. You were completely focused on the music and your task that you didn't notice Cardinal coming until you turned and collided with him. It caused the mop to fly out of your grip and you nearly slipped as you accidentally stepped on the mop but Cardinal was fast to grab your arm and hold you up. You hear him mumbling something as you let out a puff of air. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you--" you said, looking at Cardinal with wide eyes and took off the headphones, letting them rest around your neck. "No need to be, I was also in a hurry and didn't pay attention so I'm at fault, too." You didn't know what to say so you just nodded, offering Cardinal a small smile. Then you realized that he was still holding your arm and a light blush crept onto your cheeks, touch sending your crush clouded mind racing. "I... You can go now, I will live," you said and mentally kicked yourself. Cardinal chuckled slightly and finally let go of you but he stayed there, eyes studying you. "Sorry if I overstep by asking this but how it's going with your... the one you have feelings for?" Your mouth fell open, your brows furrowing as you tried to think how to answer. Your conversation with Cardinal a few weeks ago seemed to have stuck on his mind and you didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. Probably bad, considering the fact that the man himself was your crush. Or more than a crush, to be specific. "Uh, it's... Well, nothing has changed." "Oh, I see," Cardinal stated. "It's hard when you aren’t sure how the other feels, right?" "You sound like you're speaking from experience," you said, tilting your head. Cardinal shifted, lowering his gaze for a moment and you didn't miss the way he started to fiddle with his glove covered fingers. Naturally, it made you curious and you had to know more. "Yeah, it's hard not to know how the other feels." Cardinal's eyes found yours again and the look in them was understanding, soft even. Your heart made a tiny leap in your chest and you smiled at the man. "Yet sometimes you got to take a risk and lay out your heart even if it might get broken," Cardinal said, then walking past you so close his arm brushed against yours and you turned to watch after him, seeing as something dropped to the floor just before he turned right from the next corner. You went to see what it was and called after him but got no answer. As you were close enough, you saw it was an envelope and you picked it up. It had your name written on it - you made sure to blink enough times to make sure you didn't see wrong. With a racing mind and slightly shaking hands you opened the envelope and found a small letter-like paper in it, starting to read it. "Have you ever watched a leaf leave a tree? It falls upward first, and then it drifts toward the ground, just as I find myself drifting towards you.“ — Beth Kephart

Meet me at the library at 8pm. — C A huge smile spread to your lips as you read the quote again and again. It was kind of cheesy but somehow it was just so Cardinal. While it wasn't a clear love confession, it still gave some answers to you. With a fluttering heart you put the paper back into the envelope and placed it into your pocket. Smiling you put your headphones back on and returned to mop the floor, thoughts drifting to the evening.

As the time got closer to 8pm, the more nervous you got. You were now pacing in your room trying to figure out what to wear, some outfits spread on your bed. It shouldn’t be that hard to choose but somehow it was.

With a sigh you ran your fingers through your hair, now completely free from hair loops as you had just brushed them. You stared at the outfits on the bed and shook your head. None of them seemed right and you returned to your wardrobe as you were sure you had something more suitable. It took a few minutes until your eyes settled on the dress buried behind all other clothes – the wardrobe was kind of a mess after all.

A smile made its way to your lips as you took the dress away from the wardrobe. Quickly you took the hanger off, opened the zipper and put the dress on, then going to stand in front of the full length mirror by the bed.

It felt a bit tighter than you remembered but at least it wasn’t uncomfortable and it still looked good on you. You loved the combination of red and black and the small golden details adorning the top of the dress. Now you only needed some shoes and since you didn’t like high heels much, you decided to go with your sneakers even though they didn’t perfectly match the dress.

Makeup was another thing that just wasn’t for you, so you went always without and this time was no exception. You liked how you looked, felt much more yourself when you were completely natural.

You grabbed your phone from the bedside table and checked the clock, your heart jolting in your chest as you saw the time. It had passed faster than you had thought and you should soon leave if you didn’t want to be late.

You stepped into the library and looked around, seeing only a few people here and there as you walked along the main corridor. The woman behind the desk looked at you with furrowed brows – after all the library was closing – and you just smiled at her, walking past the desk.

”Miss, we’re closing, you need to leave,” the voice made you stop in your tracks and you turned to the woman.

”I know but I have a meeting with… a friend,” you said and the woman eyed you up and down, raising her other brow.

”I see,” she stated, waving her hand. ”Go on, then.”

Shrugging you continued on your way, walking to the back corner of the library. There was a small, cozy spot meant for reading and relaxing. To your surprise you didn’t find Cardinal there but his brother, Primo, was standing there, by the shelf, open book in his hand.

His gaze found yours and he smiled warmly at you.

”Cardinal will be here soon,” Primo said, walking towards you. You nodded, offering him a smile.

”I’m glad he finally made his move,” Primo continued, sounding honestly pleased.

”Finally?” you asked and Primo chuckled lightly.

”Oh my dear, you have no idea how he has been these past months.”

Months? What had you missed?

A sound of throat clearing made you jump, and you turned to see Cardinal standing behind you.

”Well, it’s my time to leave now,” Primo stated and took a few steps towards Cardinal, reaching out to tap his brother’s shoulder a few times before leaving.

Then it was just you and Cardinal. The butterflies in your belly made themselves known and you shifted, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth.

”Uh, sorry I’m late,” Cardinal apologized while his gaze took in your appearance. ”You look beautiful.”

The compliment made your cheeks burn but you still smiled at Cardinal, then noticing that he was wearing his white suit. You had always liked that suit the most – he looked so good in it and now that you could properly admire it closer, you could feel the blush deepen on you face.

”You’re not so bad yourself, either,” you managed to say and Cardinal’s lips curved into a part smile, part grin.

A moment of silence fell between you and you both just looked at each other, not sure what to do next. You thoughts were quite a mess due to what Primo had said and you tried your best to gather them.

”Maybe we should sit down?” Cardinal suggested, finally breaking the silence, motioning towards the armchairs in the corner. You nodded and you both made your way to the chairs, moving them so that their armrests were pressed together before sitting down. Cardinal let out a sigh, his gaze finding yours again.

”How much Primo told you?”

”Not much, really, but he mentioned that I have no idea how you’ve been in the past months.”

Cardinal chuckled nervously.

”Well, he was right about that.”

You raised your brow, wanting to know more, and after a moment of hesitation you reached out for Cardinal’s hand, not caring that your own was shaking a bit. You took a hold of his hand, squeezing it gently.

”The quote you left me… Now it makes more sense,” you said quietly. ”So, you’ve been… pining after me...”

”...for months? Sí. I can’t recall when it started but…” Cardinal shrugged and you understood.

”You hid it well,” you stated smiling a little.

”And it was so hard,” Cardinal admitted. ”In the end I had no other choice but to take a risk and let you know how I feel.”

The look in Cardinal’s eyes was soft and your heart fluttered as he moved so that his arms were on the armrest, his upper body leaning closer to you.

”How did you know that I…” you left the rest of the question hanging in the air.

”I didn’t know for certain but the conversation we had a few weeks ago got me thinking and… Well, when you have sharp-eyed brothers, they can fill in the gaps.”

You hummed, thinking.

”Not really taking a huge risk then, getting a broken heart, I mean. Since you knew that I…”

Cardinal made a face.

”That wasn’t my best moment. But there was still a possibility that I and my brothers were mistaken and that you were only looking for a friendship.”

”I’m pretty sure the friendship card got thrown out the window quite a while ago.”

”Is that so?” Cardinal asked, leaning now even closer, the move awakening the butterflies in you belly. You drew in a breath as your heart started beating faster. Your gaze went to Cardinal’s lips and you grazed your tongue over your own lips before looking back into his eyes. Suddenly the air seemed to get heavier, warmth going through you in waves, all the thoughts in your head turning into a pile of mush.

”Yeah,” you breathed out and Cardinal leaned even closer, finally capturing your lips in kiss. It was slow, tentative at first, but grew heated soon as all the pent-up feelings were coming to the surface. At some point you found yourself on Cardinal’s lap, other hand on his neck while the other went through his hair, your mouths dancing together like both of your lives depended on that kiss.

Cardinal’s fingers pressed to your sides as you moved your hips against his, his low moan slipping into the kiss, the sound of it sending pleasant shivers coursing through your body.

”Cazzo!” Cardinal groaned, breaking the kiss and gently pushing you farther. Your gazes met and you both were breathing heavily, lips slightly swollen and you could feel his hardness underneath you.

A small grin made its way onto your lips and you put more of your weight down and moved your hips again, this time earning a louder moan from Cardinal, his eyes closing for a moment.

”Ah, as much I want to take this further…” he spoke, voice low, ”maybe it’s best to slow down a bit.”

You hummed, letting then out a long sigh. Even though your body screamed more, Cardinal was right. There was no reason to rush things. With a shake of your head, you rested your forehead against Cardinal’s and then, out of blue, you started laughing.

”Oh shit, this is…” you didn’t even know what to say. After weeks, maybe months, of being hopeless with your feelings, you were finally there. You finally had him and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

Cardinal joined your laughter soon and you laughed until your belly started to ache. You moved so that you could sit properly on Cardinal’s lap and he wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. Your gaze dropped to you lap, the hem of your dress still folding around your hips, revealing your thighs and almost your panties, too, but at that moment you didn’t care about it.

”That friendship card might be ripped apart now,” Cardinal joked and you chuckled.

”Or more like set on fire and burned to ashes.”

[inuhalfdemon]

DisPOsable (5/?)

Explicit (tw: language, aftermath of violence and torture)

Word Count: 2,861 Words

Chapter 5: The Writing

The demon’s ears were turning and rotating in odd movements; his eyes focused on the quill and the paper in a strange way.

“I apologize, Rosie, the day got away from me I’m afraid,” Lucifer explained, finding her bustling about her Emporium.

“We did just fine, your grace. No need to fret,” Rosie told him, leading him to the stairs that ran back up to her studio.

“You…left him alone up there? Do you think that’s wise?” Lucifer questioned her, uncertainly.

“Of course! He’s right where I left him, I can guarantee it,” Rosie assured him, pausing before heading up the stairs. “What did you learn from your visit with Abaddon this morning?”

“Not much…he’s not a Disposable that was tagged by Abaddon himself, but there’s so many others involved in the market now, it will be difficult finding out who did.”

“I wondered at that,” Rosie nodded. “The Vees have turned Disposable demons into an outright business…selling them and the products they’ve created for others to control and torment them with…it’s disgusting.”

“Abaddon suggested I contact Voxtech, see if I can narrow down a list of buyers, but…I’m not sure I want to do that quite yet. I’m still curious to see if anyone is actually looking for him.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Rosie told him. “I’d hate to see him have to go back, Lucifer…I really would.”   

“He won’t, Rosie. I can promise you that.”

She smiled, happy to hear him say it.

“Now then,” she turned, heading up the stairs, “while you were away, I took it upon myself to see to a few things. He wasn’t confident in choosing his own clothes; but I do have some things that might work that will be arriving to your mansion later this evening.”

Clothes...of course.

“Thank you, Rosie…I hadn’t even considered that. After meeting with Abaddon, I made sure to find and buy other things he might need: some groceries, a toothbrush, stuff for his hooves and his hair…”

“Ah yes, the hair…I hope you won’t be too put out with me, but I saw to that one as well.” Rosie said, opening the door to the studio and stepping inside.

The Disposable demon was seated on the loveseat again, leaning over the far armrest and staring happily out the window. He was looking interestedly at the goings-on of Cannibal Town below. When Rosie and Lucifer entered, he turned, and his tail swished gently at seeing them both. He blinked back at them, then when they made no motion or word of needing him, he turned his attention back toward the window.

“Oh, you gave him a haircut. It looks, uh…hm.” Lucifer made a face, trying to find the words.

The demon’s hair was cut in an inverted-bob style, his red bangs and ear tufts left long. The hair on top was swept stylishly across his head and his black ends – cut shorter now - hung well above and off his shoulders. The invert of the bob at the back was heavily exaggerated, sharply styled to go upward and with a shaved undercut underneath.

Rosie laughed. “I called in a favor of a friend who owns the barber shop here in town. She brought a book of samples and he picked the look himself. She is both talented and discreet; so I trusted her to do it. It’s a queer choice, I agree, but it suits him, I think.”

 The DiPO demon’s attention piqued at something outside and his head turned; smiling gently. His ears were turning and twitching happily.

“He picked that out himself!?” Lucifer wondered. “He hasn’t said one word to me since we left here last night.”

“Well…maybe if you treated him less like a feral dog about to turn rabid…he’d offer to talk more around you,” Rosie blatantly told him. “I am only half-teasing, by the way,” she sniffed.

“What all has he said to you?” Lucifer asked her, brushing past the comment.

“Not much, really. He converses, but only in small doses and very infrequently. The words get jumbled and mixed around sometimes and he shuts down easily. He told me today that you have been very kind to him.”

Lucifer watched the Disposable still looking at the window. “You said he had talked with you last night, what did he say then?”

“It was all politeness, really.” Rosie almost laughed, remembering the circumstance. “I managed to bring him up here; he was shivering from the cold and the rain; bleeding all over himself and some started dripping onto the floor; he rambled off apologies and not wanting to be of any nuisance…I assumed his broken speech was affected by the shock of everything going on that I hadn’t considered the oddness of it really before I realized he was wearing the tag.”

“Has he shown any interest in wanting to leave or go outside?” Lucifer asked her.

“No, not really. Like I said, he’s right where I left him earlier when I had to run downstairs and see to a few things.”

“I think it best if we keep him out of the public’s eye. For now, at least.”

“I agree, yes,” Rosie told him. “Oh! I did manage to find something that he likes! To eat, I mean.” She turned and went to a cooler that was set nearby and Lucifer followed her with interest.

“A cannibal after my own heart, I’ve discovered,” she announced, smiling. Lifting the lid to the cooler, she slid her hand in and pulled out a bundle of meat that was wrapped tightly in butcher paper and twine. “He’s partial to a variety of meats and cuts but this, this was especially a favorite of his. I will send you with some. Raw is best,” she told Lucifer, tossing the package to him.

Lucifer caught the package, looking at it strangely.

“What is it?” he asked her, nervously.

“Deer meat,” Rosie told him, grinning widely.

The next few days passed very strangely for Lucifer.

“Looks like you and I are roommates,” he told the DiPO demon, getting him all set up with his own bathroom and wardrobe within another spare room down the hall. Lucifer picked one that had wide windows that looked out across all of the city and the demon spent hours upon hours, just sitting there and staring out at the Pride Ring.

Lucifer walked him through the mansion; showing him rooms and places he may frequent if he wished: the kitchens, the studies, the parlors and personal bars, a music room, the library, Lucifer’s own personal workroom and office, the sunroom and pool.

The property, too, had a beautiful botanical garden that Lucifer enjoyed walking through in the mornings and evenings and he got into the habit of inviting the Disposable to go with him. The DiPO always stared in a quiet and open wonder at all the strange and unique flora - and fauna - that he would find there, but never did he move to touch or venture to say anything.

 Nights were always the strangest.

Lucifer had taken care to encourage the Disposable to remain in his room – to utilize the bed that was in there for him to use – each night. He had brought in Rosie’s blankets, folded them and left them on the duvet for the demon. He even left the door unlocked; hoping the DiPO would feel less confined; but also, not finding a point in locking it if the demon could mysteriously let himself out anyway.

Each morning, however, Lucifer would wake and step out from his own room to find the Disposable just outside his door; curled into the blankets that were from Rosie and asleep on the floor, wearing only the black pair of boxers. He couldn’t make sense of it.

The DiPO seemed to be adjusting, only, very slowly. He was completely indifferent to the clothing that Rosie had sent, and Lucifer took pangs in taking time to work through the options; hoping to find a style that interested him. He still hadn’t uttered a word since coming to the mansion and Lucifer, too, noted that he still wasn’t eating.

“Look,” Lucifer sighed, bringing the Disposable with him into the kitchen and opening the fridge. “I’ll show you this to you again. See these? See all of these? These are for you,” he told him, gesturing to the pile of meat packages that were stuffed onto the shelf.

The Disposable slowly leant back, sinking down onto his haunches in a submissive sitting position.

“I’m not mad at you,” Lucifer huffed. “Even if I was, you don’t have to do that. I’m just trying to show you that this is yours, ok.” Lucifer reached in and pulled out one of the packages labeled as venison. The DiPO remained sitting, just looking blankly back at him.

“Rosie told me you liked this stuff,” Lucifer was unwrapping the package. “Maybe you don’t have to eat every day but, you’ve gotta be feeling a little hungry by now.” The paper and plastic wrap came away and the Disposable’s ears went straight, eyes sharply on the meat.

Lucifer saw the change and without thinking, he took the cold hunk of meat from the wrappings and held it out.

The DiPO shifted, leaning forward and staring hungrily at the raw venison; but, still he remained sitting – waiting.

“Here, take it,” Lucifer told him, still offering him the meat.

Rather than standing back up, the Disposable leaned further forward from where he was sitting and slowly – purposefully – moved toward the meat. His eyes shifted to Lucifer; wide and calculating as his face neared his outstretched hand. Opening his mouth; his long tongue slid wet and warm into Lucifer’s hand – causing him to shudder – as the DiPO used it to pull the meat into his mouth. His sharp teeth sank deeply into the raw muscle and Lucifer’s stomach clenched at the soft, sucking sound of it. The demon pulled back, sitting back onto his haunches again – just holding the meat between his teeth and staring at Lucifer.

Ugh, just…enjoy it, you freaky ass creep. Lucifer thought, turning away to toss the bloody wrappings and wash his hands.

Feeling frustrated, Lucifer buried himself in his work. He had begun reflecting on his visit with Abaddon; replaying the conversation over and over again in his head and remembering the things that were said – the memory of it was grating on him.

Seated at the desk in his office, he tore through piles and piles of paperwork – reviewing documents of varying importance in his governing of all of Hell. His eyes wandered briefly to the tabloid and small stack of newspapers; news discussing the infamous Radio Demon and how the horrific screams that had been continuously broadcasting all throughout Hell had suddenly ceased playing. It reminded him of how he had somehow missed the change… how Abaddon had berated him for becoming distracted and letting things fall apart around him.

Then his eyes drifted to his phone; briefly considering picking it up and calling Charlie…or even Lilith. How did things between them all get so bad?

All Lucifer ever wanted was peace: peace for his family and peace for his people. When Heaven demanded a meeting and announced to him that they would be holding annual exterminations as a means to control the ever-growing population in Hell…what was he to say? What was he to do? Declare war, there at the table? He was lucky enough even to somehow land protection from the attacks for himself, his family, and all of the Hellborn…better that than certain destruction.

Lilith didn’t see it that way though. She told him he was a coward and that he was weak for not choosing to stand against them. She loved her people, and she would die fighting before she stood back and watched them be slaughtered. Charlie, his daughter, maintained that Heaven had it wrong, that each of these wicked, tormented souls still had some good in them; that they were worth saving.

Lucifer had fought with both of them; they didn’t understand Heaven’s ways, nor had they ever seen what a war or a battle looked like between realms. The costs were never worth the effort and, more often than not; both sides ended up losing.

Abaddon – more than anyone- had a right to be angry with him. All Abaddon wanted for any soul was for them to have their right to their own free will. It’s why they stood beside Lucifer and Lilith’s decision to offer it to humanity in the very beginning and why they fell with them when Heaven responded. Abaddon loved their family…but, they also held a deep regret and resentment for Lucifer’s carelessness.

Lucifer didn’t have the foresight to know that all of this would happen; that they would end up here. He recognized now that it was terribly cruel of him, to force Abaddon’s hand; to ask them to pass judgement on souls that he himself had deemed unworthy – incapable - of finding any form of redemption for themselves; to ask them to do all of that…then to go to them now, questioning whether it had all been the right choice…

Sighing and still feeling frustrated, Lucifer flicked his eyes to the side and groaned. The Disposable demon sat comfortably with crossed legs on the floor – just staring at him. Lucifer had been at it for hours now and the demon just stayed there the entirety of the time…watching him.

“You could go and find your own things to do, you know. You don’t have to sit here all day and watch me work,” Lucifer told him.

The DiPO flicked an ear but made no move to leave or shift position.

“Do what you want then, I suppose.” Lucifer pulled a sheet of paper to him; reaching for a quill, he began scratching into the page with ink.

The demon’s head sharply tilted; his ears twitching at the noise. Lucifer tried to ignore him, but he could see the Disposable’s head turning and tilting - back and forth - as he continued to write across the page. He managed to get nearly half-way done before setting the quill down and groaning again.

“That is entirely too distracting,” Lucifer told him sharply and the demon straightened. “If you’re so curious of what I’m doing, just come over here then.”

The DiPO’s ears straightened and he shifted forward – hesitating.

“Come on, it’s fine,” Lucifer told him, gently now.

The demon smoothly stood from where he was sitting on the floor and slowly approached the desk. Lucifer scooted his chair aside to give him room. The Disposable paused beside him; eyes widely watching Lucifer and then flashing to the desk with interest.

“Look, see…” Lucifer lifted the quill again and quickly scribbled out a sentence. “That’s all that I’m doing, it’s not so interesting.”

But, the demon’s ears were turning and rotating in odd movements; his eyes focused on the quill and the paper in a strange way.

“Here.” Lucifer reached over and dug around in his drawer for a clipboard. Reaching into a small trash bin, he pulled out a sheet of something he had tossed away earlier. Flipping the page to a blank surface, Lucifer stuck it into the clip. Grabbing a pen, he stood up from his chair and led the demon to the nook beside his office window. “Entertain yourself with these for a while,” Lucifer told him, inviting him to sit in the nook and handing him the clipboard and pen. “I’ve still got more to do.”

Returning to his desk, Lucifer sat back down and pulled the sheet he had been working on back to him. Lifting the quill and glancing briefly up from the page, he saw that the DiPO demon was looking from the pen that he held in his own hand to the blank sheet of paper upon the clipboard that he was holding in his other. Concentrating, he lifted the pen to the paper and began scratching at the page. After a moment, he stopped – eyes wide and ears straight as he stared at the marks he had made. Forgetting all about Lucifer, the demon focused harder on what he was doing and continued to scribble away with the pen.

Nodding his head, Lucifer bent himself back over his own work.

Later, Lucifer’s mind was wandering again, and his hand had begun to cramp. Lifting his wrist, he flexed it and his fingers and decided that he had had enough of that today. Pushing back from the desk, he stretched himself and yawned. He needed a drink.

Standing, he stretched himself again before going to where the Disposable demon sat, tucked away in the nook, still very focused on what he was doing.

“It’s getting late, you wanna call it a night?” Lucifer asked him.

The DiPO jerked his head up, surprised at seeing Lucifer there.

“What have you been working on over here that’s got you so absorbed?” Lucifer reached for the clipboard.

The Disposable readily handed it to him; offering the pen back as well, but Lucifer had forgotten it.

All across the sheet of paper were letters…letters forming into a name that repeated itself over and over all across the page:

ALASTOR

Chapter 6