#and one day. i’ll actually just start writing and posting the damn thing

[thetriggeredhappy]

working title for my original comic is “and furthermore, in conclusion” which is nice because that means technically speaking i’ve started the comic. if i’ve decided a title for it

[valwrote]

PICK YOUR DOMESTIC HUSBAND 🛒

WHICH HUSBAND IS ON THE DOMESTICITY MENU TODAY?

featuring: diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, neuvillette.

synopsis: glimpses into married life with the genshin men.

warnings: implied fem!reader, occasional pet names, ooc (I have a sparse idea how diluc works, mention of "activities" (just mention I can't write smut pls), silly goofy ah loser coded men, mild swearing (damn, heck)

a/n: *stretching my back and crunching my neck.* I'm back from the dead. apologies for the choppy writing. thanks for the support on the other posts, if only I could write 50-page essays thanking everyone. <33 :')) not proofread.

DILUC 🍷

PRODUCT NAME: BREAKFAST AND KISSES IN BED. Diluc always hated the Knights of Favonius… 

He hated how most of them just stand around like buffoons and do not partake in any actual work that involves saving Mondstadt. He wouldn’t admit that he enjoys playing Batman. He hated them all except for one.

One he was willing to forgive all flaws of. "Knight of Favonius…always so inefficient,”  He scoffed at the pathetic sight of the hilichurls trying to dry roast a few knights roped to a wooden stick for their dinner. “Seriously, You’re so right Master Diluc.” Diluc’s head turned so fast at the sound of a new voice. When did you get here? Were you always there and how did he not sense you around?

That’s simply how you always were. A hard worker amidst slackers – he always termed despite Jean trying to explain that others work hard too. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention, honestly, he would never know what did. “G’morning…” He murmured against your skin, head buried in the crook of your neck, your flushed bare back pressed against him. “5 more minutes…” he heard your soft and groggy voice evoking a chuckle from the usually passive man. “Have I ever told you…how beautiful you are?” Diluc muttered against your skin. You smiled and turned around, “You always do. I remember my Dark-Knight Hero crying at the altar.” You pressed a finger against his chest, while he scoffed at the memory. “Don’t remind me about that, Kaeya doesn’t let me live that down…” He sighed, his brother consistently brought up the matter of him crying whenever he was losing an argument. Foul play if you ask anyone. “So…breakfast downstairs or in the bed?” He planted a kiss on your cheek while you hummed out a response, “Bed, you didn’t exactly go easy on me the previous night.” You recalled the events of the passionate night the day before. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end. “I am so sorry–” He panicked,” You're not in pain are you? I promise I’ll be gentle– I knew I should’ve been more considerat–” You stopped him by pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling of your soft lips touching his hands tangling themselves in your hair.

“I’m kidding silly… you should stop taking things so seriously unless you want me to start searching for grey hairs amidst those red locks of yours.” You snickered out seeing him release a breath of relief.

If the Darknight Hero really does exist, he's probably just someone in disguise. When he gets up in the morning to brush his teeth, it's the real him. He was his real him in front of you. People may call him a loser for such vulnerability…he was a loser for you.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

PRODUCT NAME: READING BOOKS OUT LOUD. One would say married to someone like Alhaitham was nothing short of a nightmare. They weren't 100% right. Shrouded beneath the aloof and meticulous personality resided someone who was in complete denial towards being loved. He loves it.

Who was he kidding? Nobody in a million years thought someone could put up with his insufferable personality — said Kaveh, his unpaying tenant. That was until he ran into you during his time as the newly appointed Scribe. You were like a painter, splashing heaps of paint in his 90s black-and-white life. Was eating ice cream always this enjoyable or was it because it was with you? Was the gossip between co-workers always this interesting or was it because it included you?

Why was his heart having an entire Queen’s rock and roll concert talking to you? Was it cardiac arrest or– He almost shuddered at the thought of it being what they called love.

“You’ve got flour on your face, sweetheart.” His teal eyes blinked amusingly into yours, a faint smile curling up his lips. You must have saved a nation in your previous life to land this man as your husband. Beige shirt perfectly sculpting around his abs – contrary to him calling himself “feeble,” hair slightly tousled and slight sleepiness in his eyes. He might not act like it but he was a little child whose needs had to be tended to like the coffee mug in his hands which you made, like usual. You wouldn’t want a cranky Alhaitham now, would you? “Hmpf, not my fault, this cooking book is completely bogus!” You rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand, wiping away any remaining flour. “This is so boring…if only someone could provide their poor wife with some entertainment.” You always resorted to theatrics to get him to do things for you, albeit begrudgingly. “No, the same tactic is not going to work again.” “Please…” “No…” He groaned, tone almost pleading not to put him through the torture again. “During better or worse!” You resorted to the ace up to your sleeve. WEDDING VOWS! “Stop quoting the wedding vows.” He sighed in defeat. The most intellectually gifted man in the nation couldn't win against his own wife. Ironical. He got up and grabbed a book out of the bookshelf; a small fraction of his much larger library.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Alhaitham lazily flipped through the pages earning a rebuke. “More emotion! You are ruining the scene.” Alhaitham sighed and cleared his throat, “I love you most ardently…” His tone was feathery soft, emotion surging in it. A smile crept up as he stared at you endearingly.

“That’s much better. Though I seriously think Mr Darcy should’ve said– Miss Elizabeth, allow me to kiseth thy lovely lips.” You mimicked the deep voice of the character with the failing British accent. “Please have mercy on Jane Austen’s ghost and let her enjoy the afterlife.” Alhaitham chuckled and continued reading as you continued baking.  It was a shame that a man of such talent only paid attention to the truth itself and not to the people around him. If only the searching eyes of the ordinary say the exception to his indifference, you.

This was your biosphere, just you, him, novels and food encapsulated inside your small home.

ZHONGLI 🪨

PRODUCT NAME: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND. What is the best but the most useless flex you have? Being married to the Geo Archon. The inability to just tell the whole world that you are married to the frigging god was painful. You yourself were surprised by your ability to control yourself. Zhongli was a man of carefully curated words. Instead of words, straight-up poetry flew out of his mouth. Everyone knew how much he adored his wife, every vendor, every acquaintance, heck even Venti. Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's mysterious consultant. Handsome, elegant, and surpassingly learned. Excellent memory. A master of courtesy and rules. The amount of poor women who have tried to grab his attention. "Mr.Zhongli, how does this look?" the woman, who he remembered meeting over a history discussion 17 days ago. "Hm?" his amber eyes shifted to gaze at the hairpiece the lady was holding. "Most exquisite.." He remarked, seemingly going into deep thought. Instead of a compliment, he said something that made the woman back away, "Such beautiful craftsmanship...may I ask you to tell me where you found this? I wish to buy one for my wife–" he paused, seeing the lady vanished after pointing at the shop where she got it from. "Zhongli, you should be able to tell why people approach you..." Hutao sighed, standing beside the rather oblivious gentleman. "Let's just continue...we've got customers to find!" Hutao started walking alongside the railing, hoping to find people in need of funeral services. "Maybe we should go and ask peopl– Zhongli??" Hutao looked around for the Consultant, who was caught up chatting with a shopkeeper over some earrings. "Zhongli!" Hutao called out to him, causing his head to turn towards the director. "Oh, apologies...It seems I got too carried away. These earrings caught my eye...I'm sure [Name} would love them.." he mumbled, staring at the jewellery. "I'll take them." "Mister Zhongli? What about the payment..." The shopkeeper meekly asked, causing Zhongli to turn his head fully at Hutao; gazing expectantly. Hutao should've expected this... "Zhongli, we are out here to find customers! Not buying gifts for [Name], her birthday is months away!" "They say the best things should be done first. After all, why must I wait for one specific day to express my love for my beloved?" Zhongli asked curiously and Hutao shaked her head; love was clearly out of her expertise. Zhongli, he is particular about everything. He only attended the best operas and focused on the perfect ratio for the creation of an authentic dish.  On a typical day, all you will glean from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you. He was particular about you and your likings. A smile on your face was what he wanted by the end of the day. For being someone alive for 6000 years, he could proudly say that he loved and cherished something– someone.

"Wait here, Director Hu...Perhaps I should get those flowers over there to accompany the hairpin and earrings..."

WRIOTHESLEY 🐺

PRODUCT NAME: BATTLE TO BUY A DOG OR NOT.

"Wriothesley, I want a dog!" You crossed your arms, staring down at the Duke who was glued to the chair in his office. “But why? That’s just unnecessary responsibility…” Wriothesley sighed, rubbing his temples. This was the 3rd time this month you’ve brought up this topic. Was he that incompetent in terms of filling his role as your significant other? Perhaps not with the never-ending paperwork. Oh, how he wished people would just stop committing crimes. “I get lonely in the Fortress…I want a child.” You put forth your point by using the term ’ child’. Child, dog same thing. You hoped to finally convince him this time.

“We have Sigewinne.” Wriothesley pointed at the head nurse prepping tea in the room with the back of his pen. “I am sorry, Your Grace but playing the role of the child is out of my job description.” The Melusine replied indifferently, pouring freshly seeped tea into the three cups. “Fine, we will go get one…I’ll schedule a meeting with the owner of the pet shelter. Happy?” He asked you, chin resting on his palm. Perhaps getting a dog was a good idea as he was guilty of being unable to spend quality time with you… “No way…” “Isn’t that..?” “The Duke of the Meropide–” “He rarely appears in public..” Wriothesley held out the door to the shelter for you, hoping you would go in and it would finally save him from the gaze of curious onlookers. The two of you walked in, only to be pounced upon by a big dog. “Kal! You sly dog! I knew I shouldn’t have let you out!” The caretaker yelled at the big ball of black fur who had tackled Wriothesley to the floor and was aggressively licking his face, tail wagging in delight. “Are you okay?” You asked your fallen husband, who just chuckled in response. “I am good just– Okay stop! I understand your gesture of love.” Wriothesley got up as the dog encircled him. “This one is so adorable…” you gasped at the cuteness radiating from the dog and its big brown eyes. “You’ve got a keen eye! This is Kal, Shiloh Shepard, one of the finest dogs out there.” The caretaker combed her fingers through the thick and groomed black coat of the canine. “He seems to have taken a liking to the Duke.” The caretaker continued as the dog ran back to Wriothesley, peppering his face with licks. “He even looks like you.” You teased as Wriothesley stared at you in disbelief. You did not just compare him to a dog…he even did a double take at the dog to confirm. “We will take this one then…” He chuckled in amusement. Never had he imagined marrying you and on top of that getting a four-legged beast. Needless to say, Wriothesley proudly walked out of the shelter, holding the big dog in his hands like a child. It felt complete ever since getting Kal; like your own little family. Wriothesley wouldn’t admit it but he loved the dog, despite it hogging all of your love and attention. He didn’t expect to be fighting over cuddling rights with a dog!? 

He watched you and Kal sleep peacefully on the couch, keeping him company while he finished up his work. He felt a sense of gratitude…people of the Fortress knew little of the crime he once committed. The only one who still remembers it like yesterday is Wriothesley himself. And no matter how much glory or repute he has earned, he still considers himself to be the same old Wriothesley he's always known.Neither a good person nor a complete villain. He's just another soul, still living on in this world. However, your eyes always reassured him in ways he couldn’t describe. Everything was perfect…

[Name]!! YOURDAMN DOG PISSED ON MY COAT!! Maybe not that perfect…whoops.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

PRODUCT NAME: HELPING THE OTHER DRESS.

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Iudex of Fontaine, always wondered how his life had come to this. 500 years of serving his position as the Beacon of Justice, a lovely, beaming baker somehow broke the monotony. Well, calling you just a baker was now an insult. With your ring finger bejewelled, with one of the rarest gems– an ode to his undying loyalty and representation of his eternal love. “It’s astounding how a covert mission conducted by melusines could’ve landed someone such as myself a lady like her…” He muttered to himself, seeing his full form in the mirror. “Talking to yourself, again?” You leaned against the door frame, lopsidedly smiling at the peculiar antics of Fontaine’s most distinguished man. “Ah, apologies…I didn’t think you would notice me conversing with myself. Now I find myself in a rather awkward predicament.” He chuckled. Dear god, this man was so beautiful that his beauty was almost blinding with the morning sun perfectly hitting his face.

“Say ah,” You requested and he complied. Who better to take constructive criticism from other than your husband? “New filling?” He covered his mouth while chewing on the croissant. “Yup, how is it? I was experimenting with some Rainbow Roses and these Inazuman berries I bought.” You blinked curiously, waiting for some input. “Hmm it is very pleasant, it is fascinating how you manage to maintain the freshness of the fruit…” You smiled at his compliment, before noticing him struggling with the jabot around his neck. “Need help?” You offered and he nodded his head. “This is absurd..it usually isn’t this difficult.” He frustrated replied, it was amusing to see the cool and collected man all worked up about clothing. “I suggest simplifying your outfit.” You attached the jabot and secured it in with the teardrop brooch, fixing the ruffles. 

“Thank you. I do prefer my outfit as it conveys the message I wish for it to convey.” He explained before staring at you. You knew that look, he looked at you with his eyebrows slightly creased when he was hesitating from saying something. “What is it?” “Do I get a goodbye kiss before I leave?” “Pfft! I didn’t think you would take that seriously!” Conclusion: this man was wayyy to cute.

Neuvillette is a solitary person. Neuvillette is not known for his personal desires.

He was deemed as someone with unassailable impartiality. If only they knew that perhaps the Iudex was just a wee bit biased.

a/n 2.0: the crust will come off...hopefully. i wonder if it's possible to guess which one of them is my favourite??

don't steal, copy, plagiarise, or translate.

©definitelysel

[yuikomorii]

Ayayui date♡

// I'm not sure why, but I suddenly got a burst of creativity. There's no special occasion for this post; it was really just an excuse to edit Yui in my favorite Princess Collection outfit. I like how the merch line was released right on Ayato’s birthday, so I really wanted to see an Ayayui date in those outfits! 😌💕

I was in the mood to write a special scenario again. You just have to click on ‘Keep reading’ to find it. This one is set after the LE events, particularly after the After Story, so I hope you enjoy it! ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

Ayato: Haa… finally!

After all this time, I’ve managed to sort out every single problem in the Demon World.

Geez, I’m gladly taking a break!

( Ever since I became king, I’ve been buried in an endless pile of documents—so many that I’ve grown sick just being in that place. Things seem to be getting better in the Demon World, though I’d lie to say it’s perfectly stable. )

( Well, whatever. I shouldn’t bother too much about that… for now. )

( Right now, all I can think about is her. Ugh, these stupid king duties have kept us apart for way too long. I’m sure she must’ve felt really lonely, huh…? )

( Damn it! That was never my intention, but I know it must be boring as hell to be stuck in the castle all day by yourself. )

( That’s why, I’m definitely going to make it up to her today and take her somewhere nice~! )

Place: Their room

Ayato: Chi-chi-na-shi, guess who’s ba—

( Hah!? She’s not here? )

Oi, Yui!

( She’s still not answering? )

Yui, where are yo—

???: Ayato-kun..!

— hugs his back —

Ayato: What the—!

Yui: Fufu, sorry for taking you off guard. I was just thrilled to see Ayato-kun again!

Ayato: Geez, next time I call you, answer me, understood? You’re still in the Demon World, anything could happen when no one’s around, y’know?

Yui: Ah… I’m sorry for being careless. I hope I didn’t make you worry…

Ayato: No need to sulk now. What matters the most is that you’re alright.

Now… about the thing you’re wearing. Where the heck did you even get it from? It’s the first time I’ve seen you in it.

Yui: Oh, actually I bought it last time we went shopping together. You see… I didn’t show it to you back then because I wanted it to be a surprise, but uuh… does it not suit me?

Ayato: Haa… normally, when a woman wants to surprise her man, she wears lingerie or something sexy, but I’ll forgive you this time. Why? Because you look hella cute in that, can’t deny.

— Yui blushes —

Yui: Ayato-kun… thank you! I’m really happy…!

Ayato: ( Is she seriously almost on the verge of tears for that? )

C-C’mon, don’t get all emotional over every little thing. The date hasn’t even started yet! You really want people to see you with red eyes and puffy cheeks outside?

— Yui shakes head —

Ayato: Good, now let’s go!

— He takes her hand —

Place: Kaminashi City

Ayato: Can’t believe I’m gonna say this but I somehow missed this place.

Yui: Is that so? I thought Ayato-kun didn’t like the Human World.

Ayato: I don’t mind either of them, but right now I’m sick of the Demon World. If I see one more document, I will end up throwing up on the spot.

Yui: Ayato-kun…

( That’s right, he’s been working a lot ever since he became king. I’m sure it must truly be tiring spending days in front of all those documents. )

I’m glad you put a lot of effort in your role, but take it easy, okay? I can’t do much in this situation, yet… If you ever need help, I want to be there to support you!

Ayato: Hmm… anyway. I’m not here to talk about work again. I just want us to enjoy some time together for once.

Yui: ( Ayato-kun really sounds exhausted… He’s matured so much these past few months, which isn’t bad, but I just wish he could relax a little. )

Then, let’s make the best of this day!

— tugs onto his arm and starts walking —

*Timeskip*

Yui: Haa… it’s way better outside.

( Ayato-kun is still waiting to pay for our things, but it was way too hot in that store, so he told me to get some fresh air. )

( Now that I think about it, vampires are always cold, so I doubt the heat bothers him as much as it does me, right? Even so, seeing him care about my comfort makes me really happy. )

— warm breeze hits —

Yui: Mm… so ni—

— something suddenly hits her —

Yui: Kyah! What on earth was that!?

Eh? That’s—

Familiar: Greetings. Pardon my interruption, but could it be that you are Komori Yui-sama?

Yui: ( ‘Sama’? Uuh… I feel like that’s an exaggeration. )

Yes, I am. Did anything happen…?

Familiar: Rest assured, there is no need for alarm. My purpose here is simply to entrust this to your care. Unable to find Ayato-sama, I must rely on you to deliver him this letter.

— Yui takes it —

Yui: But, what’s this letter about?

If it’s possible to tell, of course.

Familiar: In essence, a new set of documents has been prepared for Ayato-sama. Please inform him at your earliest convenience, as his return is eagerly anticipated.

Yui: Wait! Does it mean that he really has to return now—!

( Oh no! The familiar is already gone! )

( To think that Ayato-kun was finally starting to relax again… )

( All this letter will do is ruin his day, that’s for sure. )

( But at the same time, not showing it to him… that would undoubtedly get him in troubles. )

( Uuh… This situation is so complicated. What should I do…? )

Ayato: Chichinashi!!!

Yui: ….!

— suddenly hides the letter —

A-Ah, Ayato-kun, you’re back!

Ayato: Duh, and I kept calling your name but it seems you only answer to Chi-chi-na-shi~.

— He starts pinching her cheeks —

Yui: Whey dwont, staphh!

Ayato: Hehe, that’s what you get for spacing out and ignoring me.

Anyway, you weren’t approached by any creeps, were you?

Yui: N-No, not at all!

Ayato: Hmm… that doesn’t sound too honest. Are you lying?

Yui: No way! I… I’m just hungry and my stomach won’t stop growling, which is really embarrassing…

Ayato: Haa… you never change. Always getting embarrassed over everything, but no worries, I didn’t hear anything. Though, if you’re really that hungry, I guess we could get something to eat.

Yui: Y-Yeah, that sounds great!

* Timeskip *

Yui: ( After the restaurant, we went to the mall, then back to the center. Ayato-kun… we walked a lot today, but instead of getting tired, he just got more and more energetic. )

( I suppose he was really in need of this break, so maybe hiding that letter wasn’t entirely bad, no…? Still, I’ll have to give it to him today, otherwise I’ll surely put him at risk… )

Ayato: Oi Yui, look!

Yui: W-Woah! I’ve never seen such big Takoyaki before!

Ayato: Heh, right? It’s even bigger than the ones from the Demon World!

Also, Ore-sama got you this, so I better see you eat it all.

Yui: Eh-? This is such a big donut! T-There’s no way I could eat all of it!

Ayato: So you’re refusing my donut? You’re way too ungrateful for a Chichinashi. Well, in that case, I guess you don’t need it any—

Yui: No, no, the donut is good!

— starts eating it —

Come to think of it, today you’ve spoiled me quite a lot, Ayato-kun.

Ayato: And why would that be bad? I thought women liked that.

Yui: It’s not bad, but I really didn’t do anything special. You’re the one who’s been working all day and night, for this reason I believe you deserve this treatment more.

Ayato: Haa… getting all self-conscious, just like always.

Look, you know I’m not good at sentimental shit, but after everything we’ve been through, your presence is special enough for me.

I guess I just want to cherish you, that’s all.

Yui: Ayato-kun… I feel the——

A-Ah, oh no!

( The chocolate… it melted on my hand! )

I-I’m sorry, I’ll be right back!

— tries to stand up —

Ayato: Nah, nah. C’mere.

— grabs her and sits her on his lap —

Yui: Wait, don’t!

— he starts licking her hand —

Yui: A-Ayato-kun, stop it! We’re in public…!

Ayato: Mnn… Mm…

— slowly bites —

Yui: Uuh…

( At this rate, people will definitely start watching!)

— starts moving —

Ayato: Tch, you’re making this way too hard for both! Just stay still and stop acting like I’m about to kill you!

Yui: ( I know his intentions aren’t bad, but this is getting too embarrassing…! )

( I’m sorry, Ayato-kun! )

— tries to push him away but falls down —

Yui: Oww…

Ayato: ( Geez, what a klutz. )

Haa… are you hurt?

— grabs her arm and picks her up —

Yui: Ah, I’m alright, no worries.

Ayato: Oi.

What’s that?

— picks something up —

Yui: ….!

Ayato: Is that… a letter for me?

— starts reading it —

You… you had it all this time with you and didn’t say a word?!

Yui: I… I can explain!

You see, I thought—

Ayato: Shut up!

Do you even have the slightest clue about what you just did!? I seriously doubt you understand how important king duties are, do you?

Hah, of course, you don’t! Why would you?

You sit around doing absolutely nothing all day while I’m working my ass off to make sure you and everyone else can live comfortably!

I’m out here putting in the effort, grinding to create a decent life, not just for you, but for everyone, even if I didn’t ask for this shit. And you do this to me!?

I thought you matured too, but at the end of the day, you’re nothing but a selfish bitch!

Yui: Wait! Ayato-ku—

Ayato: Don’t touch me!

Yui: …!

Please, listen to me!

— grabs his clothes —

Ayato: Quiet! I’m not risking to go through that again only because of someone like you. Get lost!

— pushes her away and leaves —

Yui: …!

No… No… this can’t be the end…

How… How could I be this stupid…? Hhn… Ngh…

Kuh… Ayato-kun.. Nhn…

Place: Avenue

Ayato: (Fuck! I can’t return to the Demon World right now. )

( On top of that, why the hell am I the one feeling guilty now!? )

( She… Yes, she deserved that treatment. That’s what she gets for sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Besides, what she did could lead to something dangerous. )

( It’s not the first time she pulls such shit on me anyway, but… )

( Why can’t I stay mad at her no matter what she does to me…? )

Tch, such bullsh— Hah?

Guy 1: Aww, she’s playing hard to get~!

Guy 2: Aren’t you a bit too feisty for a crybaby?

???: S-Stop it! Leave me alone!

Ayato: …!

( That voice… Yui! )

Place: Alley

Yui: I-I told you to stop!

Guy 1: Just come with us, it’ll be fun~.

Yui: No, I don’t want to!

Guy 2: She keeps struggling, isn’t she cu——

— gets punched —

Guy 1: What the—

Guy 2: Such strength!

Yui: Eh?

Ayato: Get out of my sight, you bastards! If you don’t leave this girl alone right now, I’ll make sure your already disgusting faces get even worse!

— they start running away —

Yui: Ayato-kun… thank you!

( He came back for me… )

Ayato: ….

— grabs her hand and starts walking —

*Timeskip*

Yui: ( Ever since Ayato-kun saved me, he hasn’t spoken a word. )

( It’s obvious that he’s mad… )

( But if both of us keep quiet, this conflict will never be solved… )

Ayato & Yui simultaneously: I’m sorry.

Yui: ( Eh? Did he just— )

No… I’m the one who should apologize. I hid that letter, knowing full well the consequences it could have.

However… I only did it because I wanted Ayato-kun to have some free time for himself too.

Ayato: You…

Yui: I’m aware of how much work you have to do, and being king is definitely not easy. That’s why, I really admire your for that.

Nevertheless, it saddens me seeing Ayato-kun so stressed out and exhausted. I want Ayato-kun to be always as energetic and cheerful as he was today, but… I do realize that I’m just being selfish.

Ayato: No… You… You’re not selfish, I am.

I was the one who didn’t listen to your side of the story. It’s just... I’m afraid of failing as king. There, I said it!

I don’t want to put the people I care for in danger, nor can’t I accept being a worse king than that old fart, so all I have to do is carry out my duties. Hell yeah, they’re a pain in the ass but that’s my responsibility now, which is why I can’t back off.

Yui: ( Ayato-kun… I never thought you felt that way… )

N-no, the way you reacted was understandable. Anyone under that much stress might have done the same, and I can’t blame you for it.

Besides, I can’t say your words were wrong. I am indeed incapable of fully understanding the challenges you face, however… no matter what happens, I want you to know that you’ll always be the best king to me…!

Ayato: …!

Heh… you really never change.

— hugs her—

Yui: W-Well, I suppose I can’t change if I do nothing all day.

Ayato: Hmph, are you throwing shade at me for what I told you?

Yui: Eh? No way, it was just a coincidence! I swear!

Ayato: Pfft, proved my point. You'll forever stay the clumsy, stupid, and oddly adorable woman that you are.

Yui: Hey, that’s backhan— Mm…!

Ayato: Nn…

Yui: ( Ayato-kun… his kiss is so gentle… )

( I really missed Ayato-kun’s kisses. I’m so happy…! )

Ayato: Oi, don’t tell me you’re about to cry again.

Yui: I’m not but…

I just want to know, will the letter get Ayato-kun in troubles…?

Ayato: I might get some weird looks for not showing up on time, and maybe a lecture or two, but it shouldn’t be too bad. I was supposed to start on them today since there’s a lot, but... I think I’d rather spend my time with my girl instead.

Yui: Is that so? Thank you.

But doesn't that mean you'll have to work even harder to make up for today?

Ayato: I guess it can’t be helped. I don’t want to think of tomorrow, all I want is to focus on the present.

Yui: Fufu, I see. By the way…

Will you uhm… stay overnight too?

Ayato: Heh~? Is that supposed to be a sex invitation?

Yui: I… T-That’s—!

Ayato: Heh~, don’t even try to get out of it, it’s written all over your face.

Rest assured though, the invitation is accepted~.

— Smooch —

[rollinouttahere-writes]

I SAW YOUR POST AND I ALSO LIKE PAULIE SM!! HE'S JUST SO CUTE <3 With that, I rlly hope u write a one shot of how he would react with a s/o whose love language is physical touch. Hope u have a nice day and I rlly rlly am a big fan of your writings, you're so amazing 🥹💗

Touchy

Paulie x GN!Reader

1k words

Dating someone like Paulie was an interesting experience. He was far from the most conventional boyfriend you’ve ever had, but that helped to endear him to you. It was funny how flustered he would get over the littlest things. Wrapping your arms around him would turn him bright red. Kissing his cheek would have him flailing and acting like you just accosted him, only to gently trace his fingers over where you kissed him once he thought you weren’t looking.

Simply put: he’s adorable.

There was a slightly less cute quirk of his. It leaned more into being funny. His ongoing evasion of debt collectors was more than a little amusing. It could get annoying when he abruptly ducked out in the middle of a date because he got spotted, but you’ve learned to roll with it. Watching him jump through hoops and hide in odd places never failed to make you chuckle, so you found it easy to forgive the transgressions. 

Tonight, though, it did scare the hell out of you. It was late, and you were just about to head to bed when you heard the window in your kitchen get opened and saw someone coming through it. You damn near cracked Paulie over the head with a frying pan before you realized that the person crawling through your window like a raccoon was actually your boyfriend and not a robber. He’s lucky you recognized the way that light reflected off his goggles. 

Unsurprisingly, his reasoning for doing this was because he was on the run again and hoped to lose the loan sharks by hiding out in your home until they either passed or gave up for the night. You were happy with this, despite the late hours. It wasn’t often that you could get Paulie to overlook the intense scandal of it all to visit your home in the late night hours like this. You would have fun teasing him about this later.

For now, though, you contented yourself with cuddling up to him on the couch with your legs thrown over his lap. Your arm was propped up on the armrest, with your chin resting on your fist. Your other hand busied itself by playing with the hair on the nape of Paulie’s neck.

Paulie had one of his arms resting on the back of the couch, and his other hand rubbed up and down your thigh absentmindedly while complaining about his debt as if he hadn’t been the one to take out those loans and is the true victim in this situation. “I keep telling them I’ll pay it back when I have the money! I don’t get why they can’t just wait.” Paulie huffed, exhaling the smoke from his cigar.

“How long have you kept them waiting now?”

“That’s irrelevant!” Paulie’s face tinted red and he shot you a glare that was dripping with embarrassment.

The glare does nothing to intimidate you. You chuckle and start gently scratching at his scalp, making him shiver under your touch. He groans and makes a half-hearted attempt to swat your hand away. He grumbles under his breath, “Quit trying to seduce me.”

That made you laugh. “Trying? Given that you’re my boyfriend, I think I’ve already succeeded in doing that.” 

His hand moved from the back of the couch to clamp over your mouth. Much to your amusement, his ears were tinged red. “You know what I meant!” Smoke puffed out of his mouth as he huffed. You smirked against his hand, and his eyes narrowed at you, wondering what you were up to.

Covering his hand with your own, you gently kiss the palm of his hand while maintaining direct eye contact with him. His entire face and neck turned ruby-red and he wrenched his hand away like you just bit him. He sputtered for a moment before shouting in a humorously high-pitched voice, “You harlot!”

You cackled at his embarrassment. Making him flustered was the highlight of this relationship for you. The hand you were previously using to play with his hair moves and pinches his cheek affectionately, “Calm down, baby. I’m just teasing you.”

“I know! That’s the point! You’re always teasing and trying to tempt me like a siren!” His voice was loud, but lacked any real weight behind it. Paulie was the definition of all bark, no bite. For you, at least.

Another smirk spread across your face. You lean forward, “You can’t mind it that much, sweetheart.”

Paulie grumbled and averted his eyes, “Of course I mind. Why else would I be telling you off?”

“Are you sure? Because the fact that your hand is still stroking my thigh is sending me mixed signals.”

He stiffened and looked down. His grip on your thigh tightened, but he distinctly didn’t let go. Paulie drummed his fingers on your thigh and ground his teeth as he floundered to save face, “It’s not my fault you’re walking around looking like this. You put your legs in my lap. What else am I supposed to do? Especially when you’re wearing such tiny shorts. They aren’t covering a damn thing.”

You cocked your head to the side, feeling confused as to what he’s talking about. “Shorts?”

It was now Paulie’s turn to look confused. “Yeah, shorts. You’re definitely not wearing pants right now.”

“I was just about to go to bed when you came in. This is all I wear to sleep.” Grabbing the hem of your oversized sleep shirt- that you stole from Paulie- you lift it up, revealing that you’re just wearing underwear underneath. 

The cigar in Paulie’s mouth falls onto the couch as he stares at you slack-jawed. Before you can so much as blink, he’s yanking your shirt back down while shrieking like a scandalized grandmother, “Harlot!”

Again, you laughed at his distress. You loved every second of his extreme reactions. It’s not as if he actually disliked any of this. Afterall, he hasn’t thrown you off his lap yet. Or let go of your thigh, either. He wasn’t fooling anybody, much less you. He loved this just as much as you did, he just hasn’t figured out how to say it out loud yet.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Letterman Jacket

Javier Peña x F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tensions come to a head between you and Javier on the private jet back to Bogotá after a long, frustrating day. Or rather - after six long, frustrating years of bad blood.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: My first PW(much)P, enemies to lovers, arguing, swearing, drinking, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, thigh riding, no use of Y/N, soft!Javier

Notes: After obsessing over this damn jacket forever, I finally pulled the trigger. This is my first ever Javier, and I know he’s not perfect, but my 2023 resolution is to not overthink things, and I had a blast writing this in a couple of days since the idea came to me. I’m so nervous posting this, but excited to have finally made a start with Javier. Please be gentle with me ❤️

P.S. I’m going on my honeymoon the next 2 weeks. I’m sure I’ll be lurking around, and I also have new content all queued up for @fuckyeahpedropascal! See you!

I’m still finding Javier’s voice, but my understanding and interpretation of this man so far is definitely shaped by @the-ginger-hedge-witch character analyses and The Crush (which I’m still catching up on). Thank you Professor Ren for sharing your insight into our favourite DEA agent 🥰

It’s cold.

Why is it cold in fucking Miami?

If only you’d checked the weather report beforehand - oh wait, that’s right. You weren’t exactly given much notice, even less detail, when the phone call came this morning. Not that 4am should count as "morning" in your books.

We found him.

Who?

Jurado. Take the first flight out to Curacao this morning, it’s in two hours. We’re taking him in and flying straight to Miami. Get the papers ready, he’ll be testifying tomorrow.

What the actual fuck, Peña -

You can’t even remember what you stuffed into your weekender bag after he hung up without another word. Mostly legal papers and pens and a change of clothes - all of which are now redundant. The bag hangs heavy in your grip, the taste of failure bitter in your mouth.

Something warm descends onto your shoulders, and you almost jump out of your skin, eyes wide as they snap up. Javier isn’t looking at you though, his unseeing gaze trained on the tips of his brown leather boots, hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. He trudges across the tarmac, the bravado that is usually so loud in his walk conspicuously absent.

Reaching up, you pull his jacket tighter with your free hand, the stretch of the fabric distorting the bold letters DEA emblazoned on the left lapel. He doesn’t wear it often - he’s in suits mostly these days, which you can tell pisses him off to no end. He almost never does his tie up properly, a subtle middle finger to the establishment, perhaps.

Your lips twitch despite yourself. Peña’s always been happier going on literal wild goose chases.

The jacket easily engulfs you, blocking out the unwelcome evening chill. You breathe in the faint but unmistakable scent of cigarettes and you can feel the weight of a full box swing against your side. He keeps insisting he’s trying to quit, but obviously not very hard.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel any warmer in the plane cabin, and you put your arms through the sleeves of the jacket properly before sinking heavily into one of the plush leather seats with a sigh, relieved to get off your sore feet.

You don’t notice the small plane taking off with just the two of you, sitting silently opposite each other until the flight path levels, at which point Javier promptly heads to the small bar at the end of the cabin and comes back with two generous glasses of whiskey.

Sipping in silence, you let your gaze settle on him, no subtlety left in the tank after your shitty day at twenty hours and counting. Javier, in turn, stares listlessly out of the window, uninterested in your scrutiny. Strands of mussed hair fall over his tired eyes, the dark circles underneath shadowing his entire countenance.

His pink shirt, which was drenched in sweat when he’d finally, finally caught up to Jurado in that square in Curacao, has long dried in the cool Miami air. And of course it’s tight and the neckline unbuttoned halfway down his chest, the poor fabric stretched to an inch of its life by his obnoxiously wide shoulders. It’s tucked into even tighter jeans that seem to struggle to contain all of him.

Honestly, it’s a damn miracle he could do any running at all in this ensemble.

You stare at the little fold-up table between the two of you. It had been covered in papers en route to Miami just hours ago, the Cali moneyman sitting exactly where you are now. Jurado agreed to the lesser charges of money laundering and racketeering in exchange for testifying for the DEA. You had him. He was in that interview room. The lawyers from the Miami county court were ready to take over.

But somehow, that smarmy, rotund excuse of a cartel lawyer got there first.

A heavy sigh catches your ear over the whir of the plane engines, and you watch as Javier drags one heavy hand over his face, the tips of his thick fingers resting above his pursed lips, before he shakes his head.

The words are out of your mouth before your head catches up. ‘Stop it.’

Dark eyes flicker your way, brows drawing into a frown. ‘What?’

Your empty glass clunks loudly when it hits the table. ‘Stop beating yourself up. We both know this is out of our hands. Quit the self-martyrdom bullshit.’

The grin comes quickly and sarcastically. You hate it. He’s never been big on smiles, but you’ve seen how his face can light up with a laugh over a drink, or at a good joke. From a distance, of course, and never in your direction. You’ve only ever had scowls and glares thrown your way.

You’re not alone though - these days, that’s all anyone ever gets from him.

Leaning back in his chair, one big palm cradling the bottom of the crystal tumbler that looks much smaller than it should, and the other resting on his thigh, Javier huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Is that what you think of me?’

‘I don’t think it. I know it.’

‘You don’t know me,’ he answers coolly.

You roll your eyes. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Peña. You’re not some pouty, brooding mystery to me. I’ve been cleaning up after your mess for six fucking years.’ Shaking your head, you can’t help adding, ‘Not that you’ve ever appreciated any of it.’

He gives you a derisive snort. ‘I wasn’t aware that I should be thanking you for getting in my way at every turn.’

‘Getting in your way?’ you chuckle mirthlessly. ‘I’ve been trying to keep you out of jail, asshole.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t be.’

‘Is this what all this is about? Some survivor’s guilt bullshit?’ Unperturbed by his silence, you press on. ‘Well guess what, I don’t work for you. Having the attaché in jail isn’t really a good look for our employer, so bad news, you’re a free man as long as I’m legal counsel for the DEA.’

‘It would make my life a lot fucking easier if you weren’t.’

The words are so quiet, so matter-of-fact, they have no right to hit you as hard as they do. You’re horrified to feel the sting of tears on the seam of your eyelashes, and your lips part wordlessly before you regain your voice. ‘Fuck you, Peña.’

He winces and sits up, setting his glass next to yours on the table. ‘Shit. That came out wrong -’

Nails dig into your palms as hurt threatens to claw its out of the carefully locked compartment where you keep it. ‘No, I think it came out exactly as you meant it. You’ve hated me since day one.’

‘I don’t hate you -’

You glare at him. ‘You think I don’t know what people say behind my back over drinks at the embassy bar, when I’m stuck in the office dealing with whatever legal bullshit you’ve dug yourself into? I bet you like a good laugh at my expense.’

Shifting forward in his seat, Javier reaches out and grabs your left wrist. ‘Stop it. I don’t. You know I wouldn’t.’

You try to pull back but he doesn’t budge, easily holding you in place. You bite out, ‘I’ll quit if that’s what you want. Might as well make both of our lives easier with one resignation letter.’

Javier’s hold on you tightens, and he bares his teeth in frustration. ‘That’s not what I want.’

‘That’s exactly what you said you wanted just now. Why don’t you make up your fucking mind, Peña?’ you snap back.

‘I can’t,’ he snarls, his other hand finding your free wrist, almost jolting you out of your seat. He’s so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath. ‘I’ve never been able to with you.’

You go as still as the air around you, the mixed signals scrambling the wires in your already exhausted head. You narrow your eyes and him and hiss, ‘What?’

Javier heaves a sigh, breathing out the words through gritted teeth and eyes screwed shut. ‘You drive me up a fucking wall, woman.’

Anger surges in you, and you manage to yank both of your wrists free. Pushing him away, you spit at him with all the venom you can muster. ‘Fuck you, too!’

He growls, raking one hand through his hair before slamming it onto the fold-up table, making the glasses clink when they knock together from the force. ‘Goddamnit, won’t you just hear me? I can’t decide if I want you to shut the fuck up or if I just - want you.’

You watch his broad chest rise and fall in quick succession as he slumps in his chair, as if the last two words that are still ringing in your ears knocked the wind out of him.

Want you.

His eyes follow from under thick lashes when you reach out for the glasses, relocating them to the carpeted floor on the other side of your chair, before finding the lever underneath the table and folding it down. And you don’t miss the way his stare falls to your legs as you cross them deliberately, skirt hitching higher up, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly in the column of his neck.

You tilt your head to one side in a challenge. ‘Well? What are you going to do about it, then?’

He’s out of his chair and on you in a beat, his arms caging you in as you pull him close by the collar of his shirt. You murmur against his lips, ‘You’re a fucking asshole, Peña.’

‘I know. Let me make it up to you -’ The words barely make it out of his mouth before he kisses you, lips warm and wet and pressing into yours insistently.

You let out a surprised yelp when Javier tugs you onto your feet, hot hands pushing his jacket off your shoulders but leaving it hanging from the crook of your arms. Goosebumps bloom where his fingers brush your sternum as he unbuttons your sleeveless shirt underneath, tugging it free from where it’s neatly tucked into your skirt.

You retort, ‘You’re going to make up for six years of bad blood on a three-hour flight?’

‘Well, what are you doing tomorrow?’ he asks almost conversationally, and with a casual flick, he undoes the front clasp of your bra. He breathes a raspy fuck as he palms your tits reverently, the contact making you shudder.

‘Actually, I was going to have a sit down with you. A little birdy told me some outrageous story about the DEA attaché endorsing wiretapping,’ you reply teasingly, wrestling with the small buttons on his shirt.

Javier chuckles, clever fingers sliding down your back and undoing the zipper on your pencil skirt, which pools about your now bare feet after kicking off your sensible low heels. ‘Fucking Stoddard. I knew he'd tattle on me.’

‘You better come prepared with a good defence, Peña,’ you quip, letting him spin you around and ease you into his seat, the leather still warm under your bare thighs. His pink shirt hangs open as he looms over you, so broad that he’s the only thing you see.

He hums and kisses down the side of your neck, stopping to suck on your pulse point. ‘How about a bit of incentive to go easy on me instead, hmm?’

You arch an eyebrow while he gets on one knee, then the other, but there’s no denying the wild rabbiting of your pulse despite your banter. ‘Bribery? Just one of the dirty tricks up your sleeves, Agent Peña?’

He peels your panties down the length of your thighs unhurriedly, smirking at the way you bite into your bottom lip as the scrap of fabric makes its descent. He hooks your right leg on his shoulder, then the left one, opening you up to his dark gaze as he smirks, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet, cariño.’

It’s been too long. Too fucking long since you’ve been with anyone. Your hips arch clean off the leather seat at the first broad stroke of his tongue, confidently charting its way all the way up your folds. His weathered palms hold your thighs firmly apart as you writhe in his grip because it’s too much.

‘Javier,’ you breathe, meeting his almost cocky gaze as he stares up at you. He suckles wetly at your clit, lips puckering, and you buck hard into his mouth.

Granting you a brief reprieve, he moves off you with a wet smack of his lips and teases, ‘Am I making a good case for myself?’

‘Clearly not good enough if I’m still speaking in complete sentences,’ you somehow manage to counter.

He grins at you - a real one that lifts both corners of his mouth and chases away the shadows of his demons, and it has absolutely no business making your heart lurch the way that it does. ‘Touché, cariño.’

There’s no polite way of putting this. Javier eats you, meticulous and sloppy in turn, until your slick and his spit trail down the inside of your legs, and you feel the leather growing slippery underneath your bare ass. You can hear yourself over the roar of the plane engines, and you babble incoherently when he pushes his tongue into your pussy. ‘Javier, Javi -’

‘Gonna cum for me, cariño?’ He slurs as he sinks one, and then two fingers into you, biting out a filthy groan at how wet you are.

You nod desperately, finding purchase on his broad shoulders. ‘I’m so close, please -’

Pumping his fingers inside you until you squelch around them, he ducks down and laves your clit in earnest, pushing you until there’s nothing left - no air, no sound, no time and space - all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs and your ears pop, and you cum so fucking hard with your hands tangled in his curls and his name on your lips.

‘Fuck, you’re so beautiful,’ he murmurs almost absent-mindedly, chasing your skin when you try to push him away. His moustache scrapes your thighs and sends a shudder running through you as you catch your breath. ‘I’m an idiot for waiting this long.’

Gently setting your legs down - not that you can feel them anyway - Javier turns his face to his right shoulder, and you watch in rapture as he smears the slick coating his mouth and chin onto his pink shirt, the wet spot staining the fabric.

Your lip curls in giddy amusement as you think to yourself - you look good on him.

Then he leans up to kiss you, and your head spins at the taste of yourself on his tongue and your scent on his moustache.

Pushing back the loose locks that now curl against his forehead, you sass, ‘That’s one trick. Are you going to show me another, Agent Peña?’

Without warning, his hands slide under your bare buttocks and he lifts you clean off the seat. You laugh and close your grip around his upper arms, feeling his muscles flex under your palms. You know without looking how his biceps must be straining against the short sleeves of his shirt.

He falls heavily into the chair with you straddling him, and you protest, ‘Stop, Javi, I’m going to make a mess of your jeans.’

‘I want you to make a mess,’ he declares in his rich baritone. ‘Want your pussy to soak my jeans, cariño.’

Desire flashes hot and fast up and down your spine. ‘But Javi, I just came -’ you break off as he grasps your hips and settles you onto his right thigh.

‘You can cum again,’ he shrugs with a cocksure definitiveness, coaxing a moan from you when he shifts and your folds drag along the denim. ‘Ride me, cariño.’

‘But what about you?’ You trace one palm down his bare chest and soft stomach to rest on the prominent bulge straining against the front of his tight jeans. He chokes when you give his erection a bold squeeze through the denim, which has you grinning smugly.

Covering your hand with his, he brings it up to kiss it softly. ‘Another time, it’s been a long day. Now - can I get back to making it up to you?’

Winding your arms around his neck, you rock against his thigh, feeling the wet imprint of the slick you leave behind on the coarse fabric as you move back and forth. His palms squeeze the swell of your ass reassuringly but loose enough so that you can find your own rhythm.

Javier patiently mouths his way down your neck and further, sucking hard on one nipple and then the other, making you throw your head back in a gasp.

‘You look so good wearing my jacket with your gorgeous tits out,’ he praises you, letting go of your hips to push your breasts together and laps at the soft flesh with his tongue.

‘Javier,’ you whine, tipping forward to bury your face in the long line of his neck.

The same neck you’ve sometimes wanted to wring in the heat of the moment, but also caught yourself staring at when he cradles the office phone in the crook of his shoulder. You can taste the salt on his skin - sweat and sea breeze and sunshine - and when the breath catches in his throat, your hips stutter, your orgasm so close to the surface.

As if sensing you need a bit of help, he whispers into your ear. ‘I can feel you so wet for me through my jeans, cariño. You’re doing so good for me.’

Feeling his nails dig into you as he guides you over his thigh, you whimper needily, ‘I’m so close.’

‘I know you are. You can do it - cum on my thigh.’

‘Oh fuck,’ you choke, pressing your forehead into his as you begin to shake, and he brushes his nose soothingly against yours. The impending vertigo sends you crashing into him, hands trembling on his shoulders, torn between clinging on and letting go. ‘Javi - I’m cumming, oh my god -’

And then he’s lunging towards you in a deep kiss, tongues tangling as you break again, a moan in his windpipe when he feels your pussy leak into his jeans as it clenches and clenches around nothing. Needing air, you pull back to slump bonelessly against him, panting hard into his neck, his palms drawing circles over your back.

You only realise you’ve drifted off when a sudden drop in altitude wakes you, and the PA system cackles to life with the captain’s ten-minute warning to landing. From the corner of your eye, you catch Javier watching you with a lopsided smile.

You duck your head sheepishly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.’

‘Well, you did have a 4am wakeup call,’ he quips.

Sitting back on your haunches, you do up your bra and then the buttons on your now very crumpled shirt. Easing off him on wobbly legs, you pick up your panties and skirt from the floor and dress yourself quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles as best as you can. You smile at Javier, watching him he button up his pink shirt, stopping at the fourth one as always.

Stepping in between his spread legs, hands on his upper thighs, you press a soft kiss to his lips. You smile and drag a finger over the wet spot you left on his jeans. ‘That was fun.’

The corners of his eyes crinkle and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. ‘That might be an understatement of criminal proportions.’

You make to take off his jacket, but Javier shakes his head, tugging on the collar so it sits squarely on your shoulders. ‘Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.’

You can’t tell if it’s actually warmer when you step off the plane or if it’s the afterglow, but you keep the jacket on. Your respective cars are waiting on the airstrip next to each other, and Javier loads your weekender bag into the backseat before opening the door on the driver’s side, shutting it after you climb in.

You palm the steering wheel self-consciously as you stare at each other in a slightly awkward lull, before clearing your throat. ‘So, 9am sharp tomorrow at the 3rd floor conference room, Agent Peña?’

Javier smirks, but his eyes are warm as he shifts on his feet, leaning one elbow on the open window and cocks his head to one side. ‘Depends. Will you be wearing my letterman jacket?’

A bark of laughter escapes you. ‘Your letterman jacket? Should I pick up matching friendship bracelets for us before our meeting?’

With a lighthearted shake of his head, Javier half-turns to leave before stopping abruptly. Tapping two fingers on the window frame, he hesitates briefly, before looking up at you with earnest eyes, his voice quiet and almost solemn in its sincerity. ‘Thank you.’

Watching him go, your chest blooms with warmth at the eight letters and two little words you’ve waited six years to hear.

At twenty-seven minutes to nine the next morning, you’re flinging open the front door of your apartment, car keys jingling and thermos balanced precariously in one hand, when a flash of white on navy catches your attention.

For a long moment, you stand off dramatically with the jacket draped across the back of a kitchen chair, the letters DEA staring back at you - before you reach for it and shrug it on with a silly grin.

What can you say? You’ve always had a thing for letterman jackets.

More notes: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments and reblogs are always encouraged and so appreciated ❤️

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics as always 💕

[hertzwritings]

You spin me right round (baby, right round)

A/N: Am I alive? Physically, yes. Am I okay? Probably not. Did I miss all of you guys and writing? YES. Honestly, it’s been weird not writing and keeping in contact with all of you, but I’m trying to get back to it – and that brings us to here. Also, I’ve been listening to Sleep Token on repeat, so I’m feeling things.

I don’t have a set schedule right now, mostly because I have no idea if I’ll be posting regularly or just on a whim, but for now, I’m just getting back in the groove of things!

Your comments, likes, reblogs mean the world to me and would definitely help me stay on it, so if you’ve got anything to say, say it, my loves.

Remember English isn’t my first language, so if there’s errors in grammar or language, try to overlook it. Love you all!

Also, please be gentle wit me on my first day back – it’s like being nervous to start a new school, really.

MASTERLIST

Ask me anything/requests/tag list requests

Pairing: NotFamous!Henry Cavill x female reader

Warnings: Language, dorks being dorks, meet cute, strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, smut (18+, minors DNI), dirty talk, slightly dom/sub, spanking, p in v, tongue on v, blowjobs, slight Msub to Mdom, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, petnames

Wordcount: 4633 (whoops)

You spin me right round (baby, right round)

  Laundry day. Probably the worst of days, especially considering the hefty trek from your 5th floor apartment to the basement, which would be bad enough in and of itself, but carrying the massive load of laundry down without a functioning elevator without spilling half of your delicates did seem like an almost impossible task.

At any rate, you were going to do it, and you were going to be a strong, independent woman, who could definitely carry it down and back up again without dropping a thong or three (like last time, where Pete from 5D was lurking).

You heaved the blue IKEA-bag higher on your shoulder, silently cursing yourself for not actually doing the damned laundry more than you did, and began the descent into the musty basement, your trusty laundry-tokens jangling in your pocket of the loose shorts, you were wearing.

It took longer than you’d like to admit, and you almost did drop the entire bag down a flight of stairs, but you made it and with a loud grunt, you pushed the door to the basement and laundry-room open, almost stumbling inside.

“Oh.” You locked eyes with a very handsome stranger, who looked up from the only dryer, hands still buried pretty deeply in there. “Oh, you need this one?” He asked politely, and that voice – smooth velvet, mixed with a deep rumble that settled nicely in your chest and between your legs. The accent didn’t help at all with how attractive you found him, either, and you shifted your weight slightly. Fuck.   “I-I… I’m… Not right…” You squeaked, silently cursing yourself for wearing your gray, tattered t-shirt with a faded logo on it, that definitely did not do anything nicely for your shape. You cleared your throat. “No, I’m sorry, no. I’m still in the early laundry-stages.” You said with a smile, and immediately wanted to die. Laundry stages?? He grinned, a fanged tooth catching his lower lip. “Alright. New to the building?” He asked, casually loading a basket with his clothes.

  “Sort of. More of a recluse, that have been living here for a month, and just never do laundry at normal people-times.” He chuckled and stood up to his full height. He was an impressive man, easily towering a head and a half above you, and he looked enormous. Muscles rolled under his perfect skin on his arms, and you couldn’t help your brain going in all other directions than polite talk with a neighbor. “Well, nice to meet you, recluse. I’m Henry.” He balanced the basket on his hip (a beautiful move, if you were honest) and extended his hand, which you cautiously shook. “I’m Y/N.” You said with a small smile. His hand was warm and the grasp was firmer than you had expected, small callouses on the tips of his fingers that graced the inside of your wrist deliciously. Fuckedy fuck. “Y/N. Good name.” He winked at you. “Oh, don’t use the second washing machine…” He pointed to the washer with a bright red 2 painted on it. “Stinky Pete from 5D used it, and I don’t want to imagine what on earth he washed, but it still smells vaguely like rot.” He winked at you. “Bye, Recluse Y/N!” And with that he left, leaving you slightly shellshocked and a scent trail of hazel and wood behind.

It went on like that for a few weeks; you showed up, he was already there in various states of undress (once you even came face to face with him in just boxers, because he had spilled what appeared to be red wine everywhere) and you exchanged pleasantries before leaving the basement and going back to your apartment, sighing deeply over the fact, that you never actually talked to the handsome stranger.

----------

 A while later, a little past midnight, you were back at it (still no working elevator) and found yourself face to face with the very handsome British man, who this time was wearing fucking gray sweatpants and a tank top, that definitely didn’t leave anything to the imagination. You could see every single muscle underneath the shirt as he loaded the laundry.

“Ah, look who’s back!” he grinned at you. “I saved the best washer for you, but don’t tell Mrs. Selton on the fourth. She can’t know I play favorites, or I’ll never get cookies again.” You laughed. “Alright, your secret’s safe with me, sir.” You said and stood next to him, before starting to load the washer. He tried to say something, but almost bit his tongue and groaned at the sensation. “Are you always this smooth?” You asked, laughing slightly, as he began coughing. “Inhaled… Spit…” He coughed again. When he was finally breathing normally, he raised an eyebrow at you. “I’ll have you know, this is in no way an indication of how I handle normal interactions with people. It’s late, and I’m slightly flustered.” He said with a small smirk.

“Mhm.” You nodded, while mindlessly stuffing your washer. “Sure, I’ll believe you.” “Hey, you don’t know me.” He said, leaning against the dryer and crossed his arms. “Maybe you know my name, and probably the color and general state of my underwear, but you don’t know me.” “I never said anything.” You grinned and closed the lid on the washer. “Wait, that’s not even close to full.” He tsked at you and opened it again. “You have to really stuff it in there, or you’ll be down here until morning.” “Excuse you, can you get your hands off of my laundry, you weirdo.” You slapped his hand away. “Maybe I don’t want my clothes overly wrinkled, have you considered that?” You asked. “Pfft. That’s the charm of communal laundry. It’ll always smell a little like other people and it will be wrinkled.” You guffawed. “Sure thing, Henry. Any plans for tonight?” you asked, mindlessly pouring detergent into the container. He looked at you with his head tilted slightly, a few stray curls bouncing onto his forehead. Goddamnit, it should be illegal to look like that when doing laundry. “Eh, not really. It’s Sunday, Sundays are for me and my boy.” You raised an eyebrow. “Your boy, huh?” “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I am indeed a parent. I have a child.” He said proudly, leaning over you to press the on-button for you. You jumped onto the counter behind you and sat down on it, insistingly ignoring the creaking of the wood beneath your butt. That’s an insecurity for another day. “Really?” He nodded. “Would your boy happen to be a giant dog?” he frowned. “How the hell did you know that?” You pointed to the unwashed load of laundry, where a suspicious amount of hair had settled on pretty much everything. “Why are you pointing at my... Yeah, well, that is a lot of hair…” He looked back at you with a furrowed brow. “Why are you even looking down there? My laundry should be sacred!” He said teasingly, covering the basket with his arm. “Well… That’s… Uhm… Anyway.” You laughed. “Are you just down here for fun, or did you wait for me?” You asked with a grin. He shrugged. “Oooor… Did you wait for me down here, because we’re the only people in this building that are somewhat close in age, and you are trying to befriend me, which is why you’ve hidden a bottle of wine in your laundry?” “Stop making assumptions that are astutely accurate, it’ll turn weird soon.” He groaned, and – as you thought – pulled a bottle of rosé out of his laundry. “I’m not astutely accurate, I didn’t know it was rosé.” You grinned. He laughed lightly and cocked an eyebrow. “To be fair, it’s mostly because I have nothing to do, and I have a feeling you never celebrated moving here. So…” He opened the bottle with a swift move and pulled two red solo cups out of the basket. “Drink?” You laughed.

“Love to.”  

 “Okay, come on, why on earth are you keeping these?” He asked, holding a very old thong between his fingers. “Shut up, and stop fondling my underwear, you freak!” you quickly grabbed it from him with a laugh. The bottle had been emptied, and a new one had been brought down and for some reason, in your tipsy mind, it was a great idea helping each other folding each other’s clothes while you were waiting on the load that was currently spinning in the dryer. “I’ll have you know, some clothes are sentimental!” You said, throwing the thong into your blue IKEA-bag. He snickered. “How on earth is tattered and holed thongs sentimental? Besides, to be quite frank, at this point it’s just… Like… A string.” He laughed. “You’re the one to talk! You threw a pair of his socks at him. “I have never seen so many pairs of boxers with holes in them!” He shrugged. “I call it the surprise.” You frowned. “The surprise?” “The surprise.” He moved closer to you, and every single hair on your body stood up, while your breath hitched. He whispered into your ear, closely enough for you to feel his lips touch your earlobe. “If I’m feeling very saucy, I’ll simply rip them off and yell surprise!.” He said and laughed, sending vibrations through your entire body. “Ah, why of course. That’s a totally normal thing to do.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes a little darker than usual. “As opposed to being sentimentally attached to a thong?” he asked, his arms caging you in – it wasn’t an unpleasant experience, but it did make your thighs shake a little. His scent enveloped you completely and made it almost impossible to think. “Many tings are sentimental. Underwear, stuff…” You answered lamely. He laughed, a low rumble in his chest and cocked an eyebrow at you. When did his face get so close? “Ah, of course. Stuff and thongs. Nothing better than relieving the good, old days of… Black thongs?” He said softly, his breath fanning over your face. It was intoxicating. “Right. Besides, you have no right to judge me when your underwear looks like it could’ve been made during World War two.” You retorted, shifting slightly in place. He chuckled. “Well… Maybe I have to get new ones, then.”

His lips were so, so close to yours, all it would take was just a little nudge and you would be connected. He was intoxicating as he had you caged, muscles rolling in his arms, his scent of wood and something inherently Henry fully filled your brain, and you almost moved your head, but the sound of the dryer going off pulled both of you out of whatever that was.

“Second load done, one more to go!” He said a little breathlessly and pushed himself away from you – you let out a breath, you didn’t know you were holding and jumped down from the counter. “Great.” You whispered, bending down to grab whatever was in there – you would’ve just kept going, if it wasn’t for the small groan that sounded behind you. You turned your head around and caught Henry looking at your ass. “Excuse you.” You smirked. He cleared his throat. “Were you just looking at my ass, Henry from 4C?” “Uhm… No, I… I-” He groaned. “Fine, I was, but you can’t blame me! You’re bending down like that, and you’re wearing those fucking shorts… I can’t help it, you’re fucking gorgeous, darling.” You shivered. “Oh.” A thick silence fell between you, and you slowly stood up, laundry be damned. “Yeah, well… It’s an unfair advantage, I really tried to be proper and all that, but... Jesus Christ, Y/N.” he groaned again and closed his eyes – the small twitch in his gray sweatpants did not go unseen by you. “Respectfully, are you wearing anything underneath those sweatpants?” You asked, slightly out of breath while heat and wetness were pooling in your panties by the mere idea. “Maybe, maybe not. Are you wearing anything under that?” He asked, opening his eyes slightly. “No, my sentimental thongs are in the laundry.” Wherever the confidence came from, you had no idea, but his reaction to you was more than enough for you to keep going. You were slightly shaky as you moved a step closer to him. “Y/N…” He whispered. “Henry…” You were chest to chest to him now, his lower back against the counter. It was slightly exhilarating to have the control, especially over such a big man as Henry. “Henry…” You whispered his name again, and a fucking whimper fell from his lips. Yeah, fuck this.

You pounced – as best as you could, height difference and all – and the moment, he realized what you were doing, his arms wrapped around you and lifted you slightly, so your lips could connect. It was electric. No, not electric, it was like a symphony of colors, feelings and it was like plunging into cool water, when his lips touched yours. You moaned against his lips, and he gasped, letting your tongue glide against his. Deepening the kiss, he straightened up slightly, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist, holding on for dear life. Your lips and tongues slid against each other fervently, a slight groan reverberating from his throat send you over the edge. You bit his lower lip, pulling a soft moan from him, and wrapped your hand in is hair, tugging it slightly. The reaction was better than you could’ve ever imagined. His hands moved from your waist to your ass, squeezing hard, while a mix of moans and your name tumbled from his lips to yours – you could feel his hard length pressing against the sweatpants and your shorts, and you were sure you were leaving wet spots on his pants. “Fuck, Henry…” You mumbled his name, and he turned around to place you on the counter, before going to your throat, kissing and biting. You moaned at the feeling and threw your head back. “Harder.” You moaned, and felt him smile against your skin, before his teeth sunk deeper into your skin, his large hands tightening their grip on your thighs, causing you to roll your hips. “Fucking hell, darling, I can almost taste you from here…” He whispered against you, his hands moving upwards. “Hmm, really?” You moaned, rolling your hips again. “Nobody’s stopping you.” You tugged his hair again for good measure. “No, you’re right about that.” He mumbled, his hands dancing up, up, up, until they reached the waistband of your shorts and gently pulled them down, letting the fabric slide down your legs – you lifted your ass from the counter, allowing them to fully fall off of you, and he groaned at the sight in front of him. “Fuuuck, darling… I can see how fucking wet you are… Can I taste you?” He asked, his darkened eyes finding yours, chest heaving. You cocked an eyebrow. “Ask nicely.” He chuckled, a thick finger gliding along your hip, slowly inching towards your mound. “Please, Y/N, please… Fuck, I need to taste you, please, let me taste you… let me eat you out until you cum on my tongue.” For a seemingly proper British man, he was filthy. “Yes.” He didn’t wait a second before moving down your body, teeth catching both fabric and nipple on his way down, before he stopped, licking his lips, while looking at your exposed, dripping pussy. “Y/N…” He mumbled your name like a prayer, and before you even had the time to breathe, he licked a thick line along your lips, parting them with it. He moaned at the taste and dove in like a man starved. You mewled at the feeling, his tongue moving around your clit, fingers still on your inner thigh, and you could barely hold your upper body up as his tongue dipped inside of you. “Fuck, yes… I want to feel you cum on me, darling…” He mumbled against you, his hips rutting slightly into nothing. “Fingers. Please, fingers.” You managed to moan as his tongue went back to your clit, hardening against it as he began to eat you out with an intensity you’d never experienced before. He obeyed silently, adding two thick fingers into your dripping pussy, curling them upwards. You bit back a scream as they filled you, slowly sliding in and out, hitting your g-spot over and over, while his tongue did magic on your clit; you’d forever be ruined by this man, and he hadn’t even been inside of you yet. “Fuck!” You bit back a scream as he sped up, tongue and fingers working in perfect unison to pull you closer to the edge; he chuckled darkly against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your clit. “Be quiet, little bird, or someone will hear.” He said slowly, taking a small break from your clit. “Fuck off, it’s like three in the mo-or…” You didn’t finish your sentence, as he dove back in, this time with a speed and intensity, that could’ve killed you on a different day. “Shit, I’m gonna…” He moaned as you tightened around his fingers, and he slurped your juices from you, keeping the pace as best he could. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, baby… I want to feel you cum, can you cum for me, please…” He whimpered as your pussy pulled his fingers deeper inside of you, and you shook slightly.

You couldn’t stop it, even if you wanted to. Your orgasm hit you like a fucking train, white spots appearing in your vision, and you felt, more than heard, his moaning as you rode your orgasm out on his face and fingers.

“Fuck, baby, look at you… You squirted for me, didn’t you, darling?” he looked up at you with a devilish smirk on his face, that was shimmering with your cum under the low fluorescent lights. You moaned – his fingers were still going in and out of you. “Now…” he whispered, his voice dangerously low. “You get on your knees, darling.” E stood up and wiped his face gracefully, putting a single finger in his mouth. “You taste fucking amazing.” He grinned at you and stood to his full height, a sense of authority filling the room. “Knees.” He commanded, and who were you to deny that? You slid down from the counter on shaky legs and landed on your knees, looking up at him. “Fuck, darling, you can’t look at me like that, I’ll fucking cum here and now.” He groaned. “Well, where’s the fun in that?” You said while your fingers grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down, letting his cock spring free. You almost salivated at the look of it. Thick, throbbing slightly, a thick vein running down the length of it and a drop of precum sparkling under the lights. He was huge. “Well, what are you waiting for, little bird?” he chuckled, before he cut it off with a moan, as your lips wrapped around the tip, and you slid down as far as your jaw and throat allowed you to. He moaned as the tip hit the back of your throat and you choked slightly on it – you were dripping wet, as you began to move back and fort on his length, swallowing as much as you could, reveling in the taste of is precum. He twitched slightly and a choked moan spilled from his lips, as he thrusted forwards. “Fuck, baby… Shit, you’re really... Fuck… Good at this…” He moaned. You smiled around his length and moved faster, hearing the choked moans above, spurring you on. “Fuck, baby, stop, stop, stop… Stop, I’ll cum if you keep going…” You whimpered as he pulled away from you, a line of spit connecting you, and you looked up at him with big eyes. He groaned and held your chin with a large hand. “Good girl. I want to feel you before I cum, darling.” He whispered, gently guiding you up to your feet again by your chin. He kissed you deeply before turning you around, bending you over the counter. “Fuck, this ass… You’re a fucking wonder, baby…” He reveled, a hand falling on your ass. You moaned at the sensation and your hips bucked, exposing yourself more to him. “Oh, look at you, doing so fucking good for me already, aren’t you?” he whispered. You moaned again. “Henry, please…” You whimpered his name and tried to push back to get him inside of you, but he chuckled and held you tightly in place. “No, baby girl, you’re going to stay right there.” He ran a hand down your spine and slapped your ass again, forcing a whimper from you. “Now, you ask nicely, and I’ll fuck you right here, right now.” He said darkly, his hand gently running circles over your ass, sometimes dipping between your legs. You coked on a moan, and barely had the wherewithal to create a coherent sentence. “Please, please, p-please, fuck, Henry, please… Please f-fuck me, I’m begging you-u…” His finger dipped inside of you. “You want to feel my cock slowly slide inside of you, baby?” He asked, dragging his finger in and out painfully slow. You whimpered a broken yes. “Want to feel me dragging against your walls, huh? Want me to fill you, let my cum drip out of you?” You were a shaking mess as another finger was added. “Y-yes…” You felt like crying. It was so good, but so torturous to feel his fingers glide so fucking slowly. “Ah, you can do better than that, darling.” He said, bending over you – you could feel the tip of his cock against your ass, as his mouth found your neck again. “P-please, Henry, please… I want to feel your cock in me, please…” “Mhm… I want to fill you up, darling… I want to watch my thick cock slide in and out of your tight pussy, seeing you take me…” He rambled, fingers moving faster now, and you groaned at his words. “Fuck, y-yes, Henry, I’m b-begging you, please…” you mewled. He withdrew his fingers too quickly for your liking, and he spat on your already soaked pussy, before lining himself up. “You think you can take all of me right now, baby? Let my thick cock go as deep as it can, huh?” He asked, rubbing the tip against your entrance, smearing the wetness around. You nodded, desperate for anything at this point. “No, no, that won’t do, little bird.” He tsked at you and his free hand wrapped around your hair and tugged slightly, arcing your back as your head got pulled back. You moaned loudly. “Mhm, keep the sound down, we’re in a public area, sweetheart.” He said with a small chuckle. “Ask me and mean it.” He ordered, the tip of his throbbing cock so fucking close to glide inside of you. “Fucking fill me, or I swear to god…” you begged, and whatever you wanted to say got lost in your throat, as he slid inside of you swiftly and in one, single thrust, bottomed out.

You shrieked in both pain and pleasure, your legs shaking and if he hadn’t kept a tight grip on your hair and waist, you’d probably collapse. “Oh, good girl, look at you taking all of me… Sit, it looks to fucking good to see my cock in you, baby…” He mumbled. He didn’t move yet, simply allowing you to adjust.  After a few seconds, you rolled your hips to let him know you were good, and he chuckled darkly. “There’s a good, little slut, darling.” His words combined with his voice sent wetness down your thighs as he began moving, slowly at first, before picking up speed. You felt every single twitch inside of you, and he filled you to the brim. You had never been so fucking full before, and you’d never want to stop, if you were honest. He angled himself a little better and pistoned in and out of you; you saw stars and a red-hot burning started in your abdomen seconds before your orgasm hit you; it was blinding and your legs were barely functioning as you came around him, your pussy pulling him deeper, as your thighs got soaked and he moaned. “Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, Y/N… Fuck, I’m not going to last long…” He moaned as you twitched around him and met his thrust, the sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the otherwise quiet room. “Fucking fill me, please… I want to feel you cum, I’m b-begging you…” you moaned, almost delirious at this point. He roared and bit down on your shoulder, before he picked up speed and began fucking you fiercely, his tick and long cock hitting your cervix slightly. You mewled and another rush of wetness went down your legs, as you neared another orgasm while he whispered praise and encouragements in your ear.

“Look at that fucking… Oh, fuck…” He groaned and thrusted harder than ever, his rhythm becoming irregular. “Look at you taking me so well, darling… You’re doing so good for me, can you cum again?” He licked the spot, he had just bitten. “Can you cum for me again, baby girl? Let me… Fuck… Feel you cum again?”

As if you could deny him.

He clamped a hand over your mouth as you came wit a scream, your pussy tightening and pulsing around his length as he fucked you into oblivion. He roared with pleasure and his hand moved from your waist to your ass, grabbing it harshly before picking up speed and chased his own high. You were shaking, barely coherent as he fucked you relentlessly. “Henry… Fuck, please… Let me feel you cum… Fuck, p-please, I want to feel you fill me, please…” You moaned his name like a prayer, and he growled before his speed stuttered. “Fuck, baby… I’m going to fill you up, you’ll be dripping for days… I’m so fucking deep in your tight pussy…” he mumbled, his hand bruising your ass, wile he pistoned back and forth; he fell silent for half a second, before you felt him swell and twitch slightly. “Tell me you’re mine.” He growled. “Mine.” His cock pounded you relentlessly. “H-henry… Shit, y-yes, yes, I’m yours!” You mewled as he twitched again.

Ropes of his cum painted your insides, and you came with him as you felt the heat of his spend inside of you. Henry growled as you tightened around him again, and he jerked his hips so he was a deep as e could be, whispering praise to you, as you rode out your own orgasm.

 You stayed bent over the creaky counter, sweat dripping form the both of you, his cock still inside of you, for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath.

“Shit, that was…” he whispered, kissing the bitemark on your shoulder gently. You shivered. “Mhmm…” Words did kind of fail you at the moment. He seemed to understand whatever you meant, at any rate, and chuckled gently, before slowly pulling out with a hiss. “Jesus Christ… You’re a fucking wonder, you know that, Y/N?” He asked, the sweetest smile painting his features. You grinned with slightly bruised lips, and pulled your shorts back up. No reason to try and clean up. “Says you.” He bent down and grabbed the black thong, that was more string than fabric at this point, at stuffed it in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Sentimental value, you know?” You laughed. “Does this mean I get to see your surprise-move?” You asked jokingly. He cocked his eyebrow and a smile spread across his face – he was a goddamn Adonis.

“Well, I do have more wine in my apartment… And a bed…”

“Lead the way.”

 TAGLIST:

@acaceta @a-skov @buckyshattergirl​ @angelmather1 @cooldreamlandsandwich @doubletriplepowerbomb @est1887@enchantedbytomandhenry @fionnthebandersnacc @herroyalbubbliness @jeepgirls-stuff @Keiva1000 @kebabgirl67 @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @mis-lil-red @multifanficdom @one-sweet-gubler @pandaxnienke @perfunctory-username69 @penneferofvenerburg @sleutherclaw @sofiebstar @summersong69 @spookyboogyuniverse @stardusted26 @thereisa8ella @timetraveller4@thatonechickhere @themanfromu @thelastpyle @tragicphoenix13 @yourlocalhoney @wheretheriversrunintothesea @severewobblerlightdragon @leigh70 @phildunphyisadilf​

[thatssonanii]

Flashback #2

A/N: Hey yall! I been missing for quite some time but I just can't seem to finish this upcoming chapter (I've been tryna finish it since I dropped ch. 12) so I'm probably gonna start the chapter over. And some stuff happened that quite frankly made me a lil apprehensive to even continue this fic but ima keep going. In the meantime, I was able to write this flashback for yall. Let me know how yall like it. ⭐⭐LIKE, REBLOG, COMMENT, SHARE⭐⭐

Warnings: Cursing, arguing, typos, 18+ MINORS DNI

Do not copy my shit & post it anywhere else or take credit for my hard work!

Masterlist

Chapter Twelve

Hassan rubbed his throbbing temple as he listened to his ex-wife go on and on. From the moment Nadine picked him up from the airport, all she had done was rant about Moriah sneaking out with Zilla, wanting to find out how long the two of them had been doing so and exactly what the two of them had been doing together. Knowing that if he said anything, he would lose his temper and that was something he didn’t like to do and rarely did. All he wanted was to get his daughter.

“I hope her little ass enjoyed herself because it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let her go out without me again,” Nadine sassed as she eased into a turn.

Hassan looked around then at her. “Where are you going?”

“Home, Hassan. Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard you, I’ll get to that in a minute.” He answered quickly. “Why are we going to the house?”

Nadine glanced at him from the road, a confused look on her face. “Are you not staying at the house?”

“We need to go get Moriah, Nadine. You know that.”

She scoffed. “It’s damn near midnight, Hassan. They are not gonna let her out right now and even if they would, her ass would still be sitting in there until the morning.”

Leaning his head back against the headrest, Hassan took slow deep breaths trying to calm his nerves. Once he found out that Moriah hadn’t been abducted, he was relieved but it didn’t last long. His ex-wife waited until he informed her that he’d switched his flight for a later one to tell him that she had their daughter sitting at the detention center.

“Nadine,” he called out to her in a soft tone, “If you knew they wouldn’t let her out this late, you should have gone and got her sooner.”

“And what would she have learned? Nothing.”

“Being put in handcuffs, riding in the back of a police car and being booked did enough. Do you know what kind of kids you put her in there with?”

She chuckled. “I sure do. That was the point. She’ll learn that jail isn’t where she wants to be.”

Opening his eyes, Hassan turned to look at her trying to keep his anger at bay. “You know like I know that sneaking out with Zilla is the extent of everything. She hasn’t done anything else.”

“And that is supposed to make it okay? That bad ass boy is rubbing off on her. I need to nip it in the bud right now.”

“What if somebody does something to her in there?” He asked.

She shrugged. “The girl knows how to fight so she better fight back.”

His brows rose in shock. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Wow,” he scoffed, “And what if this does the opposite of what you want? You know she starts actually doing bad things. What then?”

“Hassan, just drop it. She is going to learn her lesson this time and that’ll be it.”

“For your sake, you better hope she isn’t harmed while she’s in there.”

“No, she better hope that the judge goes easy on her and just gives her community service.”

Those words triggered Hassan and got his blood boiling. He couldn’t contain his anger anymore. 

“Nadine, we are not pressing charges! She is our daughter for fucks sake! Just like I told you when we spoke earlier, charges are not an option! Am I being clear here?”

“She’s my child, I have custody of her so if I wanna press charges then that’s exactly what the hell I’m gonna do, Hassan! I am not a little girl, I do not need your permission to discipline our child!” She screamed pulling into the driveway. 

She snatched her seatbelt off after killing the engine then jumped out with her purse and keys trying to get to the door before him. Choosing to get his bag later, Hassan followed closely behind his ex-wife and rushed in behind her, slamming the door closed. 

“She lives with you but I have sole custody of her! Or did you forget? I let her stay because I did not want to uproot her so yeah, you do need my permission!”

Nadine tossed her things aside, going to get in his face. “I don’t need a got damn thing from you, Hassan! I am her mother and I will decide what’s best for her!”

“Don’t piss me off, Nadine. You don’t wanna do that.” He firmly stated in an eerily calm voice. 

Taking a chance, Nadine leaned up on her toes to kiss him, catching him off guard. He pulled away, taking a step back from her giving her an incredulous look.

“Don’t.” 

That was all he said before going back outside to retrieve his belongings. 

The next morning, Hassan and Nadine went to pick their daughter up. He insisted on driving, not wanting her to make unnecessary stops or the long route. Their drive was silent aside from Nadine trying to make small talk.

While they waited for Moriah to be brought out to them, the officer from the prior day approached them.

“Good morning. Am I to assume that I can close this out?” He asked looking more to Hassan than Nadine.

“Yeah. Get rid of it. We not doin that.” Hassan informed him.

Nadine sucked her teeth. “How long can we think on it?” She ignored Hassan staring at the side of her face, keeping her eyes on the uncomfortable officer. “Well?”

“24 hours but ma’am, I don’t think that’s a good idea. She seems like a good kid and she had a really rough day and night yesterday. I think she gets the point.” He explained. He hoped she listened or Hassan would make her listen. 

“Rough, you say? What happened?” She pushed with a small smirk.

Before he could elaborate, another officer came from the back with Moriah. She looked worn out, her hair was a mess and there were tear stains on her face. Seeing her made the smirk on Nadine’s face grow

“Daddy,” Moriah sobbed softly. She walked into his arms, breaking into a full blown sob as soon as her head hit his chest. 

Fire rose in his chest feeling his daughter’s sobs shake her body as well as his own. This was something that he wasn’t going to let go as easily as he knew Nadine was hoping. The officer took Hassan’s answer as the final answer and handed Nadine some paperwork before bidding them a good day. 

“Are you hurt? Are you okay? Did they bother you?”

Upon getting back to the house, Hassan carried his daughter to her room and sat on the side of the bed talking to her. She moved around her room to get a change of clothes so that she could shower.

“My side and back hurts,” she answered softly, trying not to cry. “They wouldn’t leave me alone. They took my pillow and my blanket too.”

“I’m so sorry, Rye. What happened to your side and back?”

“They had these bunks in there for us and they put me on the second. The girl under me,” she paused to wipe her tears, “She wanted to be on that bunk and told me to move. I told her no because I didn’t wanna get in trouble and because Zay said not to let them punk me.”

Hassan chuckled a bit at that. “I’m listening.”

“She kept telling me to move and I kept telling her no then she pushed me off the bunk to the floor.”

His brows furrowed. “What? What did the officers do?”

“Nothing,” she cried, “They just said to stop playing around. One girl in there was nice to me though. They bothered her too.”

Hassan tried to hide his anger from his daughter, not wanting to upset her more. “I’m glad you’re outta there. And don’t worry about nothing, I’m not gonna let your mama press charges. Okay?”

Moriah nodded solemnly.

“Good. You shower and take a nap. When you get up, I’ll take you to see Isayah and get you some food. Sounds good?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re my babygirl. You never have to thank me.”

As soon as he heard the shower running, Hassan went to the master bedroom where Nadine was lying across the bed on the phone and watching television. She rolled her eyes, muting the television.

“Can I help you, Hassan?”

“Hang up the phone.” He demanded calmly.

“For what? I’m talking to my sister.”

Hassan took a deep breath. “Unless you want your sister to hear me chew yo ass out, I suggest you hang it up.”

Nadine’s frown deepened hearing her sister laugh which was the only reason she hung the phone up. She sat up, moving to the side of the bed. “If you think you’re gonna chew me out about the charges then you’re mistaken. Might as well turn back around and leave my room. I don’t give a damn what you say, I’m doing it.”

“So you think I’m gonna let you do that to her? Is that what you think?”

“It's not what I think,” she sassed with a smirk, “It’s what I know. She’s gonna learn her lesson.”

“At what cost, Nadine? They pushed her off the top bunk! They took her shit and would not leave her be! That was only 24 hours in there!”

“Good!” She screamed jumping up. “Good! And I hope they lock her ass up for a whole year so them girls can do worse! Her ass deserves it!”

Hassan’s nostrils flared and his heart sunk at her words. He started to pace back and forth, keeping his eyes on his ex-wife. He took notice of her trembling hands and the way she nervously switched her weight from hip to hip.

“Just cause she cried to you, you think she learned her lesson and she didn’t. She just knows that a few tears will get you to lay off but that don’t work on me!”

“You pushing it, Nadine! You really pushing it!”

Nadine approached him, jabbing her finger into his chest. “Yeah and what are you gonna do about it, huh? What is Hassan gonna do about it? I do what the hell I want and there’s nothing that you can do or say about it!”

He grabbed her hand, roughly pushing her away from him. “If you press charges after I told you not to, I’m gonna take her with me and you’ll never see her again. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You can’t take her!”

Hassan caught her hand just as it came up to slap him. “I can and I will. If I have to move back here or fly her back and forth to see her friends every other weekend then I will if it means she’s away from your ass. Try me.”

“You’re really gonna take her away from me?” She asked with tears in her eyes. “She’s my baby. All I have left since you left me.”

Hassan again roughly let her hand go. “Oh now you care? You only want her for selfish reasons so keep the water works to yourself.”

“The only reason I did any of this is because I care about her well-being and how she turns out, Hassan!” She cried. “I care unlike the rest of you!”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “But you heard what I said, if you do that I’m taking her with me and you know I will.”

While their parents spoke, Zilla and Moriah went to his bedroom to talk. As soon as he closed and locked his door, he went to his best friend wrapping his arms around her tightly, letting her cry on his chest. He never knew what to say in these situations but he knew that giving her physical comfort was the next next thing. They stood in their embrace for a few minutes before she pulled away, he pulled her to sit on his bed with him. 

“You ain’t let them hoes bother you, did you?” He asked, making her smile a little.

“I tried not to. It was hard.” She admitted softly.

He sucked his teeth. “You know what I told you, Fat. What they do?”

Moriah told him the same thing she had told her father earlier. “But I’m okay, Zay.”

Ignoring her words, he lifted the sides of her shirt and the back to check her out. Gingerly, he touched the small bruise on her left side making his hiss and move away from his touch.

“You ain’t okay, that shit hurt, Fat. You ain’t beat they ass?”

“No,” she frowned, “I didn’t wanna get in any more trouble and have to stay even longer.”

He sighed heavily. “I get that but if your mom stay on that bullshit then you goin back in there and they gon remember that you ain’t do shit about them fucking with you.”

“My dad said she’s not gonna.”

“But we both know how she is, Fat.”

She huffed lying back on his bed. “I trust him, you need to trust him too. I’ll be fine.”

He rubbed her thigh trying to comfort her. “Aight, Fat. You gon call your new friend? What was her name?”

“Her name is Dreka. I gave her my number to call me. She’s a runaway too.”

“Too?” He asked, laughing. “You get caught sneakin out one time and now you a runaway. Yeah aight, Fat.”

She pushed at his back laughing. “Shut up. I been locked up, Ima thug now. I’ll shank you.”

“Ooooh, I’m so scared.” He joked.

“Hassan, I really am sorry about this. Don’t worry, if I have to make him sleep in my bed I will make sure they don’t do that again.”

Hassan waved her off taking a drink of his soda. “No, no. You don’t gotta apologize. It was Rye’s choice too. The person that should be apologizing is Nadine.”

“Can’t argue with that,” she chuckled. “‘Please tell me that she’s not thinking of pressing charges still.”

“She’s not and if she does, she knows what’ll happen.”

Leata raised a brow, interested. “And what’s that?”

“I’m gonna take Rye with me and she’ll never see her again.” He answered with a straight face. 

Leata was conflicted. She would be glad to get Moriah away from Nadine but she’d miss the girl and knew her son would. And she wouldn’t want Hassan in any trouble.

“You think she’d let you just take her like that?”

He smiled at her. “She doesn’t have to let me do anything. As far as the courts and the system is concerned, I have sole custody of Moriah. Not joint, not none of that. Sole custody.”

“Wait … what?” She laughed. “How the hell did you pull that off? When were you gonna tell me? And why the hell is she not with you?”

He laughed heartily at her reaction, giving her a shrug. “She wanted certain things in the divorce and I had a counter for each of them. In this case, she wanted to keep living in the house and I got sole custody of Rye. She’s not with me because she didn’t want to leave her friends, school and Zay. She said she could handle four more years with her. So that’s why I didn’t tell anybody. But Nadine knows so she should act accordingly.”

“Wow … gave up custody for a house.” Leata shook her head, thinking. “Albeit a nice house but you said live in, not own.”

“Yup,” he grinned, going to take another sip, “She wanted me to keep paying the bills and figured if I gave it to her outright I wouldn’t pay them.”

“She thought she was playing you but she played herself cause there’s no way you wouldn’t pay the bills if Moriah was still there.”

“Exactly but here we are.”

“I always told her that she was too smart for her own good,’ she chuckled, “So where do we go from here?”

Hassan rubbed through his beard. “I’m gonna talk to Zay, you’re gonna talk to Rye and hopefully get them both on the same page with us about everything so that we can all have some sort of peace. Cause I’m getting too old for this shit with her.”

“I hear that but okay good plan. Also, I wanted to share something with you.”

“What’s up?”

“After we got home yesterday, I talked to Isayah to see how long the two of them had been sneaking out and everything,” she explained in a low tone, “He said it’s been about four or five months. I asked him if they were having sex, he told me no and he didn’t get an attitude or anything when I asked so I believed him. He said they only kissed one time.”

“But?” 

Hassan could sense the other thought lingering in the air.

“I’m not entirely sure how long that’s gonna last. They’re coming around to the fact that they like each other and find each other attractive. If you don’t mind, I was going to have a little talk with Rye because I know Nadine isn’t and if she does it won’t be helpful.”

Hassan nodded thinking about her offer. “Yeah, yeah … that’s fine with me. I’ll slide that into my talk with Zay. You think we’ll make it outta these high school years without a baby?” He joked.

Leata laughed so hard she started to cough. “Hassan, I hate you but honestly we’re probably not getting out of them without a baby or a baby scare and God help us all if there’s an actual baby.”

[weemssapphic]

Hi lovely! Got so excited when I saw your requests was open again, your writing is so addicting 😍

I’ve had this idea since I saw a post with a gif of Larissa holding a teaching pen and I can’t stop thinking about it.

What if Larissa was actually teaching anatomy one day at the school you being the assistant teacher for that specific class and at the same time you being secretly in a relationship with her. So as she teaches the class you become more and more turned on, while she talks about the body not being able to control yourself. Ending up having to take Larissa to her private rooms, saying “teach me anatomy” and Larissa be like “didn’t you pay any attention to me earlier” while getting you to “learn anatomy” on her body. Larissa receiving/reader giving, real smutty and hot! Kinks are more than welcome too, hope it makes sense! x if you won’t, it’s totally okay ❤️

Hello ❤️ thank you so much for the compliment and for the request - I'm so sorry that it took me so long to write this (I wasn't very happy with my first draft and I'm super against posting something I hate). But I hope you enjoy it 🫶🏼

Teach Me

Larissa Weems x f!reader

Words: ~3.3k

Content/warnings: nsfw (smut) - choking, authority kink, praise kink, hair pulling, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, strap-on use

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Good morning, class! I’ll be taking over this week’s lessons until Ms. Hanson is back from her sick leave. Today we’ll be going over last week’s exam, and then if we have time we’ll start chapter 8. Any questions?” Met with a brief silence, Larissa continued. “Excellent. Let’s start, shall we?”

Larissa nodded over at you, a small sign for you as the assistant teacher to make your way down the rows of desks and hand the students back their graded tests. Some of them groaned, some squealed in delight - once you’d finished your task, you made your way back to the front of the room, making eye contact with Larissa as you did so. You found her watching you with a faint smirk and a quirked eyebrow.

God, she was so hot when she did that. The smirk painted on those luscious red lips started a small flame in your abdomen - the blue eyes that bore into your own held just a smidge of teasing amusement as you visibly shivered. Larissa knew just what she was doing to you, she always did - her eyes briefly flicked down your body, drinking in your form, and you felt yourself flush.

The two of you had been in a relationship for several months now, choosing to keep it a secret from your students and most of your coworkers for the sake of professionalism. It was normally an easy secret to keep as, apart from staff meetings, your professional interactions were limited to none - especially in front of the students. Today, however, Larissa was taking over the class you normally assisted for, which was equally delightful and a little nerve-wracking.

Larissa was a force to be reckoned with. You’d seen her address the entire school plenty of times as principal, but there was something about seeing her take control of a classroom that was unbelievably arousing. She spoke with such passion, making sure to involve the students and encourage them - somehow, she managed to create a collaborative environment where even the shyest of students felt comfortable enough to speak up.

You couldn’t help but think that, if you’d had a teacher like her when you were younger, maybe you’d have learned a thing or two in anatomy class - perhaps even enjoyed the subject.

Or maybe not, you reasoned, as your eyes fell to Larissa’s backside, perfectly displayed in her form-fitting dress, when she leaned over her desk to rifle through a stack of papers. Maybe you wouldn’t have been able to focus on a single damned word.

And as anticipated, as the lesson progressed, you found it harder and harder to concentrate. You tried, you really did - keeping your eyes mostly on the students or on your notes, rather than on Larissa, trying to soak up every word that was being said in case your assistance was needed. This proved more difficult than you thought it would, as even Larissa’s voice, authoritative yet soft, served to get you worked up. But you were almost successful - until Larissa found that she had just enough time left in the lesson to start chapter 8 and reached into the drawer of her desk to pull out a pointer.

You watched, mesmerized, as she extended it and walked up to the blackboard. If anyone were to ask you what was drawn up there, you wouldn’t have been able to say, even though you’d prepared the lesson yourself due to Ms. Hanson’s absence - your mind went blank as your eyes were glued to Larissa’s hands. Long, red-tipped fingers gripped the pointer firmly, flexing around the little stick. Her other hand waved around animatedly as she spoke.

You squeezed your thighs together, growing more uncomfortable by the second as the dampness between your legs grew. You’d always loved how she spoke with her hands - right now, you couldn’t help but ponder what else she could be doing with them. How those long fingers could reach deep inside of you, curling against your-

The shrill sound of the bell ripped you from your trance, signaling the end of the lesson. Students began to rise, gathering at the door to shuffle out of the classroom and to the cafeteria for lunch. You swallowed hard, your eyes finding Larissa at her desk as she packed away her laptop and some papers.

You were on your feet the second the last student had closed the door behind themselves, taking long strides towards Larissa’s desk. She raised her head and smiled at you.

“Darling, I-”

Your lips met hers in a desperate, sloppy kiss, a needy moan clawing its way out of your throat. Larissa let out a chuckle as you deepened the kiss, her hands coming up to cup your cheeks as she pulled back.

“What was that for?” she asked playfully, humor dancing in her eyes. “Not that I’m complaining…” Her lips curled up into a smirk.

“That was for how hot you look teaching.” Your breaths came out in ragged puffs as you captured her lips once again. This time, Larissa let out a soft moan, fisting the front of your shirt and pulling you closer.

“We have a few hours until the next class… Everyone else is at lunch,” you mumbled against her lips.

“And what would you like to do with all that free time?” Larissa’s voice was low and raspy - it only served to turn you on further.

“You could teach me anatomy?”

“Were you not paying attention earlier?” Larissa teased.

“Nope,” you murmured. “I think I need a private tutor.”

“And you’re certain I’m not too distracting?” she purred.

“Rissa…” It came out whinier than you intended, but that didn’t appear to matter much: Larissa grinned against your lips, pressing one final kiss to them before allowing you to drag her through empty corridors all the way to her private quarters.

Larissa had you pinned against the door the second it closed behind you. Her hips pushed into yours as she clicked the lock, and then her hands were on either side of your head, trapping you against the oak as her lips found your neck. She sucked at your pulse point, her teeth grazing over the sensitive skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Tell me, darling,” she purred, her voice dropping an octave, her warm breath washing over your ear. “What do you remember from today’s lesson?”

Your breathing stuttered in your chest - if it had been hard to think before, well, now it was simply impossible. All you could focus on was how Larissa loomed over you, her body pressed against yours, her lips on your ear. The heat at the apex of your thighs was becoming unbearable.

“I-I don’t know… just- your hands,” you stuttered out sheepishly - that really was all you remembered, Larissa’s fingers flexing as she spoke, how they-

“Funny,” she whispered into your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. You felt your knees begin to give out - if Larissa hadn’t been pressing you to the door, you might’ve collapsed on the spot. “I don’t remember that being a topic in today’s lesson. Perhaps it’s better we start with the basics then, hmm?”

Before you could come up with a suitable reply, you felt Larissa’s hand close around your throat, her fingers applying gentle but firm pressure, flexing against your sensitive skin. You met her gaze to see blown pupils gazing hungrily down at you, painted lips pulled into a seductive smirk.

“Think you can be a good girl for me?” Larissa’s eyes were hooded as she looked down at you, applying just a little more pressure to the sides of your neck. You nodded fervently, not trusting yourself to speak, and Larissa grinned.

She let go of your throat, ignoring your whimper of disappointment, and turned to stroll nonchalantly towards the bedroom. “Give me 2 minutes, then you can come,” she called airily as she disappeared into the hallway.

They felt like the longest two minutes of your life. When they were over, you headed after her, your spine tingling with excitement. You walked into the room to find her sitting on the edge of the bed in her bra and panties, legs parted - her heels had been kicked off, her dress discarded.

“Larissa…”

“Now, is that how you think you should address a teacher?” Larissa raised an eyebrow, lips turned into a disapproving frown.

“Uh… Principal Weems?” Your face felt hot with embarrassment, but then Larissa grinned and let out a pleased hum and you found yourself growing hot for an entirely different reason.

She spread her legs and your eyes fell to the damp spot at the center of her panties. You felt your mouth go dry and you took a few steps forward, until you were standing between her legs. She made no move to touch you - she simply watched you with an amused grin plastered on her face.

“Why don’t you show me what you know, darling? My body is at your disposal…”

You didn’t need to be told twice - you lunged forward, planting a sloppy kiss to Larissa’s lips as your hands began to trail down her body, finding the clasp of her bra and quickly undoing it. You slid the straps down her arms and dropped the garment onto the floor, focusing your attention on her now exposed chest. Your lips trailed down her skin until they found one of her breasts, and you began to litter the soft mound of flesh in little kisses and bites.

“Take my nipple into your mouth and suck,” Larissa instructed, her voice slightly breathy but still firm and commanding. You did as you were told, sucking on the small, rosy bud and feeling it harden under your tongue. “You may bite - gently.” You grazed your teeth over her nipple before biting down, feeling Larissa arch into you and hearing her sharp intake of breath.

“Good girl, now the other one.” The heat between your legs grew as Larissa commanded you, and you mirrored your actions on her other breast.

You left a trail of kisses down Larissa’s stomach - the soft swell of which was so tantalizing that, with a cautious glance up at the blonde, you sunk your teeth into her flesh, biting down gently. A strangled gasp escaped Larissa’s throat and she looked down at you in amusement.

“Getting a bit bolder now, are we?” she teased, clearly enjoying the way your cheeks went pink. “I’m not stopping you, darling.” With her permission, you spent a few more minutes loving on her stomach and hips, biting and sucking, then soothing the little marks you left with a gentle lick of your tongue.

Soon, Larissa began to squirm beneath you, giving your head a gentle push. You settled between her plush thighs then, taking a moment to give them the same reverent treatment as Larissa let out quiet sounds of pleasure.

You pressed a soft kiss to Larissa’s cunt through her underwear, before pulling the garment down her legs to reveal her dripping sex.

The scent of Larissa’s arousal hung heavy in the air, she was already so wet for you - you licked your way up her slit, taking a second to worship her folds before finally circling your tongue around her swollen clit. 

“Fuck, Riss, you taste amazing,” you groaned. You felt Larissa’s hand on the back of your head, then a sharp tug at your hair. Larissa looked down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I-I’m sorry, Principal Weems,” you breathed out. 

“Good girl,” Larissa purred. The hand holding your hair loosened its grip and you resumed your ministrations against her clit, flicking your tongue over it in little kitten licks.

Larissa arched her back off the bed and rolled her hips against your face. Ironically, considering the lesson, you knew her body well by now - you knew she wanted you inside of her. Happy to comply, you began to tease her entrance with your fingertip, earning yourself a breathy whine from the blonde.

“Enough teasing,” she murmured, and you slipped one digit into her hole, slowly pumping it in and out, before adding a second. Her walls stretched around your fingers and she let out a soft hum. 

“Such a good student,” she teased, her voice breathy. “Quick learner.” You could almost hear the smirk in her voice, and it only served to turn you on further - you were certain your underwear was ruined.

Your fingers found a steady rhythm inside of her, curling into the soft, spongy spot that had her writhing beneath you. Using your other hand to hold Larissa’s thigh and steady yourself, you wrapped your lips around her clit and sucked, letting out a wanton groan as you felt her begin to tremble.

Larissa came undone beneath you, letting out a drawn-out moan as her hips bucked erratically against your face. You continued to fuck her through her orgasm, until she stilled beneath you and allowed herself to sink into the mattress. 

You crawled up Larissa’s body, settling on top of her and pressing a bruising kiss to her lips which she immediately deepend with a low groan as she licked her arousal off your tongue. 

“Principal Weems?” you mumbled against her lips. She hummed in response. “You said I could do anything, right?”

Larissa grabbed a fistful of your hair and gave it a sharp yank, the pain sending a shiver all the way down to your toes. Her painted lips were pulled into a devilish smirk and her eyes sparkled with curiosity. 

“And what exactly are you proposing, darling?”

You bit your lower lip, blushing as you reached for the drawer of Larissa’s beside table - her smirk widened and she rested her head back against the pillow, watching you intently. 

You pulled out the harness and dildo that rested in the drawer, your blush deepening as Larissa hummed her approval. She never took your eyes off you as you tugged the harness over your hips, tightening the straps and securing the fake cock in place.

Larissa squirmed impatiently on the bed, already spreading her legs for you. You could see how wet she was and your own clit ached at the sight. Larissa reached out for your hips and you caught her wrists, pushing forward and pinning her arms over her head.

Larissa’s pupils widened at the action, a gasp escaping her lips, her hips squirming.

You reached back into the drawer with the hand that wasn’t holding Larissa’s arms in place and pulled out a burgundy silk tie, dangling it in front of her face. She grinned up at you, giving you her best, innocent doe eyes.

“Go ahead, darling, I’m waiting,” she teased. You tied Larissa’s wrists to the headboard, making sure it was tight enough to hold her but loose enough so it wouldn’t hurt.

“That okay?”

After giving her wrists an experimental tug, Larissa nodded in confirmation. You pressed a searing kiss to her lips, before trailing kisses down her body, caressing her bare hips with your hands. You stopped at her inner thighs, taking a few moments to worship them with kitten licks and litter them in little bruises until you felt Larissa squirm desperately beneath you. The low whine that she let out was so delicious that you groaned into her pussy, and she bucked her hips up impatiently.

You placed a hand on either one of her thighs, spreading her legs open for you. She bent them at the knee and titled her hips up eagerly.

“So pretty,” you groaned as you zeroed in on her dripping cunt, taking the fake cock in your hand and teasing her hole before sliding easily inside of her. Larissa’s lips parted to let out a gasp and she squeezed her eyes shut as she got used to the sensation of being stretched out. 

When she opened her eyes again, she gave you a nod and gently bucked her hips. You began to thrust the cock in and out of her, finding a slow and steady pace at which to fuck her.

Leaning over her, you continued your rhythmic thrusting as you wrapped your mouth around her nipple, flicking your tongue over it as your other hand began to fondle the soft swell of her breast.

Each flick of your tongue and thrust of your hips drew an even filthier moan from Larissa’s lips as she rolled her hips against you. Looking up at her through your lashes as you sucked on her breast, you could see her wiggling her arms against the restraints. She gazed hungrily down at you, eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted sensually. 

“Kiss me,” Larissa demanded, and though you didn’t think she was in a position to be making demands, you couldn’t resist - you wanted to kiss her so bad, so you did. Your mouth left her nipple in favor of pressing a bruising kiss to her mouth, which she immediately deepened with a breathy sigh. 

Your tongues danced around each other, Larissa’s breathing hot and heavy. You swallowed her soft moans and low grunts as you reached deeper and deeper inside of her, tilting your hips in the way you knew would bring her the most pleasure.

Her thighs began to tremble against your hips and she arched her back off the bed, her front pressing insistently into you - her skin was warm and slick with sweat.

One orgasm turned into two, turned into three, until Larissa wrapped her legs around your hips to pull you flush against her.

“I-I c-can’t…” she murmured breathlessly. “P-please…”

“Shh, it’s okay.” You caressed her cheek lovingly before pushing yourself up and carefully sliding the dildo out of her. Before removing the harness and tossing it to the ground, you undid the tie around Larissa’s wrists, placing a gentle kiss to each wrist before allowing her to drop her hands to her sides.

You crawled up the bed next to Larissa and snuggled against her, your own breathing almost as labored as hers. 

“Was that okay, love?” you asked, pressing a kiss to her flushed cheek. You could feel her nod against you, a small smile playing upon her lips.

“Mmmh, thank you, darling,” she murmured.

You reached over her to check your phone - you still had an hour before your next class.

“Close your eyes and rest,” you whispered. “I’ll be right back.” Larissa hummed in response and you went to fetch a warm, damp washcloth and a glass of water, which Larissa drank as you cleaned up traces of her arousal from between her legs. Then you snuggled up next to her and allowed yourself to fall into a light sleep, her arm slung loosely around your waist.

The sound of your phone’s alarm 40 minutes later had you groaning and burrowing your head deeper into the crook of Larissa’s neck.

“Do we have to teach today? Can’t we just cancel the classes and stay here?” You gave Larissa your best puppy-dog eyes and biggest pout, but you knew as soon as she chuckled and kissed your forehead that your pleading wouldn’t work.

“After how much work you put in to prepare everything?” Larissa teased, and you rolled your eyes and huffed. “Tell you what.” Her voice dropped an octave and she moved her mouth to your ear - you had to clench your thighs together in response. “If you’re a good girl this afternoon, then I’ll show you what I know tonight.” You had to bite your lip to keep from moaning as Larissa’s breath washed over the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps on your neck. With that motivation, you allowed yourself to be ushered out of bed and dressed yourself for your afternoon classes - only now, the ache between your thighs was even worse than it had been that morning. How you were going to survive the rest of your classes and be a good girl, you had no idea.

x

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[grapejuicestyless]

i have had this idea for so long, but i really think you could do this justice. sort of like the film the holiday!!! but not really set in Christmas and more so through the seasons. harry moves out of the city (doesn’t need to be a singer and could just be a CEO) into a small village in a lovely cottage where all of the furniture is mismatched and there’s sash windows which are always open. He’s there for a few months before he starts to feel lonely so decides to bring in a lodger! He hand makes posters and puts them on the village hall board and … he finally gets a taker! It’s a quirky girl who is totally all over the place and she moves in .. the seasons change and so does their relationship.. friends to lovers OR ACTUALLY maybe it could be so interesting for it to be enemies to lovers! That could be fun to write. But idk I’ve been thinking about it for so long !!! They could organise a dinner party for friends one night or maybe Harry goes away to the city for a meeting and that’s where y/n realises how much she misses him / likes him. Definitely has to be fluffy but also needs to have some drama. I haven’t figured that out yet 😭😭😭 I’m so sorry for this really long rambly post but I wanted to give u as much of my brain as possible lol. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see what you would do with this / if it’s something you’re even interested in. Have a gorgeous evening / day / morning xxx love you!!💖💖💖💖💖

Bad People

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n met by pure luck. Sharing secrets and laughing like little kids, ribs and cheeks hurting. Y/n is sure Harry is destined to be in her life forever. She’s just not sure when that became a bad thing.

FLANGST/FRIENDS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS

The pale blue sky looked gray from certain windows. The glass was cracked and the stove stained with boiled over soup broth and old sprinklings of spices.

The birds sang solemnly, humming the tune to what I believed sounded like something you’d hear at a funeral. Here, the pavement was cracked and the stars were consistently covered with clouds. Snow, more often than not, fell heavily. From October to April. The nearby ocean nearly always too cold to swim in. The backyard pool cold and clean, still with nobody to inhabit it.

All the beauty ripped from the earth, and replaced with another kind of it. I wouldn’t mind it half as much, if I had someone to enjoy the snow with. To enjoy the polar plunges, the visible breath and numb fingers.

Like old times sake, snowmen and snowball fights. Sledding or fort making. Rosy cheeks and icy hair a memory of the past. Cheeks hurting from smiles, not the winter chill.

The laughter of my mother was long gone, and my brother outgrew his desire for a sibling as soon as he turned sixteen. Few friends, not any at least, that would enjoy the activities the white powder offered.

So now, I look out the window, nursing a glass of wine propped up on the windowsill. I don’t see the snow day ahead or pray for a white Christmas. I pray that one day, I’ll find someone to enjoy it with me. To soothe the pain little eight year old me suffered with the absence of her father, her distant mother and her selfish brother.

“Looking at it won’t make it fall any faster, Y/n.” The puff of air coming from my nose fogs up to cool glass, and my fingers leave prints along the center.

He’s not looking at me, he rarely does when we aren’t fighting. It’s like I disgust him. I feel like a fool every god damn time.

“Have you always naturally been an asshole or did you grow into it?” I don’t look at him, but I feel his gaze settle on my reflection in the glass. His voice alone urges me to take a large drink from the wine glass. The ruby red staining my top lip. I spread it around and taste the bitterness of it on my tongue.

He begins to leave, almost succeeding without a passing glance, but biting his tongue is something Harry nor I have ever been able to do. So it’s natural how he goes for the last word.

“Theres only so much wine, Y/n.” He teases. I down the rest while he walks away. The sigh that leaves my mouth after I feel the ghost of him leaving me isn’t only for air, but because suddenly the room feels lighter.

It’s funny, how someone so special can leave such a disgusting taste in your mouth. Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing. To remember that it wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always hate my old friend, bounded to me through the home we share. I once enjoyed the company of Harry styles.

It was nearly a year since I’d moved in. A year since the snow turned to thick ice and roads became bare with people too afraid to try and navigate through the harsh winter.

Nearly a year since I first saw the house at the end of the road, with a neat front lawn and a tree with hanging branches ready to snap.

A red scarf and red mittens is what I wore. With a faded brown coat and worn blue jeans. A hat on top of my head and a journal tucked underneath my arm. He had the greenest eyes I had ever seen. The stars in the night sky didn’t quite shine as bright as his eyes, I swore it to myself.

He had an english accent, one that I wasn’t familiar with. Peach fuzz and dark chocolate curls a mess on his head. When I told him my job, he laughed, but something about his shocked expression after told me he didn’t mean it cruelly. Rather, that he was shocked, or just piecing the puzzle together.

“I’m my mother’s daughter.” I told him, “She always had a thing for poetry. The sappy ones with the tragic endings. I got it from her and I’m damn good at it.” I smiled at him then, and he smiled back bigger.

“It’s just funny. Moving somewhere so quiet for a job all about fantasy and adventure.” He explained, already guiding the two of us through the wide doorway. I set my boots in the old entryway which it seemed he had turned into a mud room. I admired the shade of green on the wall and nodded along. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

That night, while settling into my new space, I shared with him my life. My goals and dreams. With his toothy smile and boyish eyes, he made it so easy to trust him. I sat on my newly made bed and he sat in my spinning chair by my desk. Moving it back and forth, swaying slowly. A cigarette started dangling from his pocket, I still remember the way he took it between his thumb and his index finger. Rolling it around, debating whether or not to light it. It was like he didn’t know he had it.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker.” I laughed at him, he laughed back. Shy almost, only looking at me for a moment.

“M’not. A few here and there. Helps to wind down.” When he ran his hand through his hair, I remember seeing all his rings. A rose and two with his initials. One looked like a lion. That one was my favorite.

Other than his charming smile and infectious laughter, I knew nothing of him, I had come to realize. Here he was, knowing about my family and friends. My job and my hobbies. All I had asked him was his name.

When I asked him, he was just as talkative as I was. A sparkle in his eyes when he talked about his job. I remember specifically, how they lit up extra bright when he mentioned his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma. I learned about his job too. Harry had everything he could ever truly want. The money, the power, the glory. His office at the top floor overlooking the bustling city that never sleeps. Families dancing around the square and traffic backed up into the city line.

The sad thing was, that even with all this pride he got to carry with his reputation, the city was no home to him. The summer held no comfort. Not the same now that he was long out of school. The heat was simply uncomfortable. His lavish suit sticking to his skin. Even the air conditioner couldn’t soothe the pounding of his head against the strong New York heat.

His nose stung in the summer. The warmer it got, the worse it smelled. Garbage littering the streets no longer covered by thick snow. Tourists and their children filling up all his favorite places of relaxation. Each carrying their own scent from home. The calming pine from the North or the tangy citrus of the west coast.

Harry felt no true love for his home anymore. No real attachment. There was no smell of home, and there certainly wasn’t any old faces with their gravelly voices and thick accents. If it weren’t for the business there, he would’ve fled somewhere else long ago. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that felt like home. If he could, he would have tucked himself back into the small home his mother raised him and his sister in. He would’ve curled up happily in his twin bed and looked out the same crooked window each night and feel happy with only that.

He tells me that when he got in the car waiting for him at the airport, he was tempted to tell the driver to take him home, to see if it would make him smile. He’d seen the gag used in all the old rom-coms he and his mother used to watch. The short blonde running from the love of her life only to be led back into his arms. But Harry know’s better. He tells me so. So when the driver asks him where to, he tells him the address.

He told me about his work life. How there was a branch out in the UK. The one that started it all. And as his success grew, so did his aspirations and his needs. London no longer provided him with the luxury and opportunity that New York could. So he swapped out his office for a penthouse and acted like the smell of burning garbage and mysterious wet spots on the sidewalks didn’t bother him.

It’s a vicious cycle. To outgrow, to long for, to move, to hate all over again. Thats how he decided that London has just what he needed. His business within reach and smaller towns surrounding its borders.

“And what about now? Are you happy?” Harry crinkled his eyes then, smiling a nodding along. He didn’t even mind it then, when I would interrupt. In fact, he welcomed it. Claimed he loved hearing me talk.

I agreed with him when he said that the grass is greener down here. The stars are just that much brighter and theres not a single car honking their horn past nine. All things that left him feeling a whole lot calmer than the chaos of the city.

Here, Harry told me he didn’t mind not living in a lavish penthouse just a few blocks away from his work. Here, he was hours away from the city. He stays in a medium sized cape cod styled house, pre-decorated from the past owners who didn’t care to take their things when they left for something bigger. It sticks out from the rest of the homes nearby. He wonders how something so different ended up within the same area. And he smiled and sat on the floor when I laughed and told him he’d already lived quite the life for a nearly-thirty year old man.

When silence took over after over an hour long conversation, I bit at my nails and looked at the floor. Suddenly, it came to me.

“Harry?” I had asked. He hummed, looking at me. Even if I hadn’t looked back, I could still feel his eyes on mine. “What made you want a roommate?” When my eyes flickered up to his, I saw no hate, or disgust, or shame. Nothing that I am familiar with now in Harry’s eyes. I saw curiosity, warmth and happiness.

“I like the quiet. I like being able to sleep without someone yelling down the hallway. I like how green it is over here.” I nodded, waiting for him to continue. “But the quiet get’s lonely. And while I like the quiet, I hate being alone.” And it made me smile back then. Maybe it still does thinking about it know. He had been helping me in finding a home, some place warm to stay. Meanwhile, I had been able to give back. Give him what he wanted. At the time, my heart warmed.

For a long time after that, Harry made my heart beat fiercely. He brought me flowers and made us pancakes. Freshly picked blueberries from the local market. He cracked jokes and I repeated them back between our broken laughter, imitating his english accent.

He was a charming man, with an energy that invited and kept you drawn to him. Everyone wanted to be around Harry. The men and the women. Always wanting a piece of the pie. I felt rich in life, that while others had to work for a lifelong friendship with him, naturally, we fit together. We worked.

He entered my life by some kind of coincidence. I needed a place to stay and he was offering a room up.

When he brushed his thumb over my knuckles and kissed the skin, I believed we would be like this forever. Just the two of us.

When he whispered to me that he loved me that same night, I thought it was something he would never take back. Something that would never change. His warm breath and glistening eyes. He was red and shiny. A bottle of the cheap champagne sat on the table and an empty glass beside him. I let his lips trail around my hand and laugh at his antics.

“Harry.” I mumbled into the darkness, he doesn’t move. I silently giggle again after he puffs air out of his own nose onto my hand playfully. His shoulders shake with his own fits of laughter, “Harry.” I call out again, and my eyes are met with his dazzling emerald ones. I almost got lost, forgot how to talk looking at him.

My palms were sweaty with nervousness then. My heart beating out of my chest. I wanted more than anything to tell him everything. As a poet, it should have been easy to put my thoughts out in the open air. But they hadn’t sat within me for long enough to curate a straight forward answer.

How would I even manage to start on how beautiful I thought his brown hair was? Perfectly colored like milk chocolate treats that curled over his forehead. Or his toothy grin which pulled butterflies from the pit of my stomach and made me feel lighter? I couldn’t find just one thing to focus on. And the words that came out of my mouth tumbled out quickly.

“You’re my best friend.” I hoped that he would’ve been able to see how much love I held for him in my face. How even in the dim lighting of only the fireplace and the fading lamp in the corner, he could see how they sparkled just for him.

He pulled his hand away after that, clearing his throat and nodding. But he smiled so softly after that I didn’t see how his eyes welled up with tears. I only saw his perfectly pink lips and his rosy cheeks. For once, I wasn’t focused on his eyes, and I paid the price.

He never made pancakes for us after that night. Nor did he ever pick flowers from the fields or crack jokes until our stomachs hurt. My hand was never slotted between his and my head didn’t rest on top of his shoulders. He was colder, more distant. Quiet.

But the quiet grew old for us both. And the slipping away hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced. I was everyone else in his life. Fighting for a spot in the light so he would see me, smile at me, acknowledge me.

Part of me wondered why he never asked me to leave. To pack my bags and find another innocent man to love because he wouldn’t tolerate it anymore. But he never did. Harry hated being alone and I knew better than anyone else. I knew it because I was his best friend at some point. We shared the same breaths and drank from the same glasses. I wore his shirts and he used my hair clips. He kept me around not because he still wanted me, but because he still needed me. And the realization of it all hurts worse than the silence because it’s then I know that I’ve really lost him. It leaves me with the question, ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

I think back on that night when our world shifted on its axis and I go over every word that was said. I check for any signs of discomfort or anger and I find nothing. It plagues me with a new insecurity.

Maybe it wasn’t something I’d said, maybe it wasn’t something I’d done. Maybe the warmth from the champagne grew cold in his blood and the false euphoria from it all cleared from his peripheral vision and he realized that I was no longer enough. I was not what he wanted. The idea of his roommate becoming his only friend too pathetic for a man with such power.

Soon after, I stop putting up a fight. I stop fighting for a spot in his life and I stop trying to win back a man that was never mine. I figured at least if he could never be mine and I would never be his, at least I still got to see his pretty face everyday. And I could imagine that we never drifted.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost. The tears running down my cheeks are hot, burning my skin until my throat dully aches and my chest is red with flakes of nail polish and the dragging of my nails clawing at my chest.

I am sobbing, broken and tired. I dream of a life that is not as miserable. I dream of a life where I no longer doubt the things I love. Where I don’t have to question my friend’s loyalty.

He knocks on my door, leaning against it in only his flannel pants. He has tattoos that compliment his skin so well. He looks like a painting. I’m relieved to see him again. Even if it’s under these circumstances.

I wait for him to speak, even if it’s merely a mumble. Even if I cannot understand.

“Can you stop crying? I can’t sleep.” He requests. My lips part and I swear my lungs collapse within my chest. I can’t breathe and somehow I remain composed.

“Okay.” I say quietly, nodding along and trying to find his eyes. They look at the floor, and his face is contorted like it pained him to say that to me. Like it was against his will. But he doesn’t even look at me.

When he leaves, I collapse, shoulder shaking with rage, sadness, confusion instead of the contagious laughter that once rang out through the halls.

I decide then, July moon shining through the sash windows of my room that I couldn’t continue holding onto Harry. My heart still beats for him and my eyes still sparkled when his own lingered for just a moment longer on me, but I couldn’t like him.

Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing.

After that night, his selfish wishes turn to bitter comments which turn to vicious attacks at my confidence. And my resilience and devotion to silence, to ignore the cruelty of it all is worn thin. My bitten tongue is freed and I am betrayed by my own words. My own comments targeted at his deepest hurts. It’s a mutual hate between us, a mutual dislike.

We live within the same four walls, the same windows and creaky roof over our heads. We cook in the same kitchen and we sit on the same couch, but we cannot stand each other anymore. The house is no longer filled with love, and the warm heat turns to bitter cold. And yet, neither of us have the guts to leave.

We sit here, in a life thats so mean to us just because we are afraid of the loneliness that is surely to come with the other’s absence.

We are here, but we aren’t present. It makes me laugh, it makes me wonder.

Who could ever leave me? But who could stay?

The candles burned down to the floor, wax melting over the wood as the lights set a warm, homely mood for the night. The late December rush throughout the town turned to the few and far between searching for last minute supplies to ring in the new year. It’s peacefully still outside, and the dining room looks so nice I forget why the candles burn and our nicest plates are set out.

Harry insisted on having a small gathering with some of our friends to celebrate the new year before he went away for sometime for work. Being roommates, despite our lack of interest in establishing our own friendship, his friends become my friends and mine become his. It’s a fairly large group that was once two. But have now become so closely intertwined that it seems hard to differentiate who was friends with who first.

There was wine, pastas and breads. Hams and potatoes. Drinks and endless desserts. It felt nice, to have all those people we cared so deeply about chip in and help to create such a lovely meal for the few of us.

Hearing that first doorbell ring to see all of our friends stood proudly on our crooked doorstep made my heart flutter. Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Elin, Charlotte, Nyoh. All holding various foods to add to the never ending supply on the multiple tables set in a row.

“Harry! Y/n!” The enthusiasm from our friends seemed to lighten the mood, letting the heavy feeling of heated arguments and constant anger slip down my back and into the farthest part of my brain.

It was times like these where I’d forget how to hate. How to spread anger and disgust to someone who clearly showed none of it in return in these times. Here, Harry was talkative. Always plastering on a fake smile and wave.

He was good at pretending. And while the walls of the house had seen a different story, those around us were innocent, forever unknowing of how Harry constantly belittled me, bothered me. Of how I was no better. How my tongue was sharp and my words shot to kill.

Nobody minded the difference in height of the dinning room table against the kitchen table. How one was round and the other a rectangle. Both covered by one long table cloth. Nobody minded the soft music in the background or how the light wasn’t the brightest. The soft flickers never mentioned.

We let the candles burn until they had nothing left to give, and we ate until it was bare and our stomachs hurt. Here, I never felt like I was trapped. Here, I remembered why I came to live with Harry in the first place. And I was thankful. It was times like these I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot. Cheeks sore and eyes crinkling. I would laugh at just about anything, trust anyone and agree with everything.

“When are you going to tell him?” An elbow to the ribs pulled my gaze from the end of the table, my smile dropping for only a moment at the sudden shock.

“Sorry?” I mumbled softly into Sarah’s ear. Her eyes glimmered with something mischievous, like she knew something that I didn’t. She licked her pink lips and looked briefly back to the end of the table. All the way over by the dining table, sat a few feet away and a couple inches higher, was Harry. Laughing and talking with Pauli and Elin about anything and everything. I couldn’t quite make it out over the soft chatter of Mitch and Charlotte and the clinking of forks on plates.

“Harry!” She called softly. When my eyebrows furrowed she rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“I don’t get it.” Forking another bite of vegetables into my mouth, I watched her fight for the right words to say. Her lips finally settling on the soft smile I knew very well.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n. I know that look. Better than anyone. Thats how I look at Mitch.” She playfully nudged my shoulder. Did she believe that I held any romantic feelings for Harry? I couldn’t, it was impossible. Right?

His rude remarks and his mean demeanor. Sure, at one point my heart beat for the brunette with an infectious smile and shiny green eyes, but now it was a memory of the past. Another pretty face who had thrown away all of his charm and care and exchanged with unwavering cruelty.

“Oh, no. Sarah, I don’t think about him that way.” I tried to wave her off, trying to sound the least amount disgusted by her assumption. I couldn’t help but wonder why she thought that.

“I don’t believe you.” She sounded smug, crossing her hands on my thigh and giggling. “You don’t have to. I believe myself.” Brushing her off, I take another bite of any remaining scraps on my plate. Trying to avoid conversation.

“Come on, you seriously don’t see it?” She sounded exasperated now, even more so when I nodded carelessly. She was getting tired of my avoidance to the conversation, my disinterest in her false discovery. Still, the longer she pushed, the more I felt the heat rush to my face. The more my cheeks burned and my skin tingled.

“I’m serious, Sarah. I don’t look at him in anyway. He’s just my roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.” I lean back, volume brought down to a mere whisper with the dying laugher at the other end of the table.

“Well, he’s your friend at least, right?” The lump in my throat was unswallowable. With the growing tightness in my throat and the clamminess of my palms. I wanted nothing more than to slip away and pretend this never happened. So, I bite my tongue and nod, eyes flickering to Sarah while I do so. I pray that she doesn’t see the tears welling in the corners and how glossy they’ve gotten in such a short period of time.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.” The lie stings, burning as it comes out. Partially because I hate lying to my dear Sarah, but mainly because at some point it was the truth.

Harry was my everything at one point in my life. He might as well have hung the damn moon and stars. I thought the world of him, wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around mine all the damn time. And it killed me that we’d gotten so far away from that idea that I had to lie about even being acquainted with him.

“Word of advice.” She started, eyeing Harry carefully. My eyes remained glued to the table, fork wobbling between my pointer finger and my thumb. “Best friends don’t look at each other that way.” And when she finished what she wanted to say, I swear my heart just about stopped. All color draining from my face and my eyes rapidly blinking away the tears by now.

Setting my fork down, I ignore her playful smile and the nudge of her shoulder into mine. I look for another face to converse with, to make me begin to forget everything I was trying so desperately to escape. When I search the table, it seems like each person has found themselves in deep conversation with the other. All but one.

And his green eyes capture mine in a way I haven’t known in so long. I’d forgotten what it was like to be the center of his gaze. How thrilling it was. With my eyes, glossed over and heart beating through my chest, it seemed impossible for me to ever consider looking away. His chocolate brown curls and sweet pink lips in a gentle smile. It was consuming and alluring. Irresistible even.

A face that once disgusted me, shattered my heart, angered me and knocked me down with no air left to breathe seemed not all that frightening anymore. And the warmth that spread in my chest scared me more than anything.

I begin to realize, maybe Sarah was right. Maybe that was why I hated him so much. I didn’t hate Harry Styles. And thats why it hurt just that much more. I didn’t hate him at all, in fact. No, rather my poor heart couldn’t handle the heartbreak and deflected in the most malicious way possible. I missed my best friend.

“Y/n.” Sarahs voice pulls me from my haze, and my eyes are flickering over to hers quickly. Lips still parted and eyes still wide.

“You’re crying.” I hadn’t felt the salty heat dripping down my cheeks until she announced it. My skin too numb from embarrassment to even understand what was happening.

My tongue is tied, and my throat is killing me. I feel like I might vomit if I stay here any longer. I can’t be here any longer, I can’t do it. Not when I’ve just realized what I did. I feel what I felt all those months ago when Harry told me to stop crying. When he shut me out for good and became bitter. I feel all air leave my lungs and my knees wobbling. I am going to collapse.

“I just need air.” I say all too loudly, pushing out the chair clumsily and stepping back. The loud scratch of the wooden legs of the wooden floors turns heads and my heavy breathing tells me to get the hell out.

I pardon myself after that, waving off any concern from Sarah, and making sure nobody else saw my escape. Everyone’s still deep into conversation when I turn the corner. All but Sarah and Harry. But neither of them make a move to reach me. I let myself collapse on my bed, mascara running down my white sheets and back aching from how stiff I became at that table. I silently pray that I’ll sleep through the rest of winter.

When the dinner got cold and we’d all run out of things to say, we all look around and silently agree to part ways. It was nice to have some company, I enjoyed being around these people so much. My heart should have been full, yet it felt heavy and empty all at the same time. Littered with a guilt I wasn’t even sure was mine.

I’d seen the way she looked at me. Really looked at me. Glossed over eyes and a quivering lip. She was red with the rush of adrenaline in her blood. Anyone could see how quickly she began to breathe. It was like she was stuck, consumed by something so strong that it left her powerless, weak, crumbling quickly under an undetermined pressure. She started to cry, biting back a sob by biting harshly into her bottom lip, eyes shaking while she searched my face. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Who had said what, and how I could help her.

I wanted to yell at whoever hurt her this bad. And the feeling of that in itself was unsettling. How my heart still longed to comfort, protect the heart of the girl who once shattered my own with her own words. More than that, I wanted to scream when nobody followed her when she ran. How nobody cared nearly enough about why she was so upset.

I couldn’t understand why I was so invested in her. Someone I was sworn to hate. Someone I had teased and fought for months and let hurt me constantly in retaliation.

But then again, we were no better than one another. We never were. Always saying too little and not opening up quite enough. Creating issues instead of solving problems. We were explosive, nobody could hurt me quite like she could and yet, I felt horrible that she was so upset.

Like the day I’d found her pacing restlessly across the floor. Skin blotchy and eyes puffy with tears. Throat sore with the violent sobs ripping through them. I’d wanted to hold her then too, but I was too bitter to do anything but tell her to quiet down. I felt the same guilt in my bones. And I make the same mistakes I made the first time. I watch her break down and sit with the uneasiness of it all.

Mitch lays a hand over my shoulder, his other arm wrapped around Sarah as he leads her through the door. His eyes look sad and tired. But his smile is genuine and filled with concern.

“Check on Y/n for us okay? Sarah thought it would be best to leave her be for now.” His hand left my shoulder and the door shut quickly after. Leaving me with the unbearable silence and loneliness I felt so frequently nowadays. It breaks down my walls and scares the shit out of me.

Maybe thats why I make my way to the kitchen, shuffling slowly along the floors and leaning slowly over the makeshift tables. A bottle of rouge in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. I stuff them in my pocket and hold the bottle close to my side.

I’m slow, delaying the inevitable question. When I knock on the door, it’s quiet. Almost like I’m hoping that if it’s soft enough, she won’t hear and I can pretend she was ignoring me. But, she does hear me, and she calls out a raspy, muffled welcome, signaling for whoever was hidden behind the door to come through and take in her puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

My throat tightens when I smell her perfume. Something that I would have drowned in not so long ago. She has clothes thrown on a chair in the corner, the same one I sat in so many months ago. I’m tempted to push them off and just sit in the silence with her like we once enjoyed doing.

Her head is in her pillow and her arms are underneath her. She is unaware of who she has let in, but her silence and unmoving body tells me she’s lost all ability to care. I want to leave. I want to turn around and convince myself it was all a mistake. I’d checked on her and she was still alive and well. I’d done my part and I could go on guilt free and forget about how crushed she’d looked just hours before.

When I begin to turn on my heels and pray for this day to be over, I see something unforgettable. A small Polaroid from last year. Just weeks after she’d moved in and charmed me with her beauty and whit. She’s sat with her legs over my lap and my arms around her body. We couldn’t be any happier, and the memory makes my chest sting.

She still cared enough to keep up the old memories of us, even after all the fights and mean glares. Why did she have to keep the damn photo up?

Guilt consumes me once again, and I am faced with the sad woman in front of me, still in the same place as before and just as sad as before. My feet betray my mind, and soon I am stood beside her bedside table with a bottle of wine dangling between my pointer finger and my middle finger.

The glass knocks against her shoulder in a silent invitation. My eyes wordlessly asking her to follow. Her eyes are red, and her lips still shake. She looks completely torn apart, desperate and distraught. Disheveled even. But for some reason in my blurry head, all I can think about is how absolutely beautiful she is in the pale moonlight.

“Come on.” I ask her softly, offering her my hand. When she takes it, she’s nodding already. Trusting a man who deserves no second chances, no trust whatsoever for his cruelty and his inability to communicate. But she follows regardless.

I can’t help but realize how having her so close feels good.

He lights the cigarette for me and watches as I let it burn. My lips twitch as they wrap around the end, tasting the bitterness of its contents and the dry paper.

“How did we end up here?” I ask him, looking over the horizon. The waves are calming over here. They almost silence the ringing in my ears, despite the distance between where we sit, feet dangling over the empty pool edge and the large grass behind it.

He shrugs, snagging the cigarette from my hand delicately and taking a long drag from its end. We swap, my hands wrap around the neck of the wine bottle. It’s tinted green and nearly full.

“Unlucky people, I guess.” He looks at his feet. They dangle in the pool beside mine. You can see just how close we are in the turquoise tint. How the lights make us look less vibrant.

“I wouldn’t consider us unlucky.” I look at the sky, and I can feel his eyes on my face. It makes me swallow, how intense his gaze is. It almost makes it feel that much more real.

“Why’s that?” He asks, twisting the bud out on the cement. It stains the freshly cleaned grey stone an ashy black, but I bite my tongue.

“We had each other. Maybe we aren’t the best people, maybe we’re cruel, but I’d rather argue than live in solitude, right? Company can’t be bought. Even the most painful of it. That’s something real. Something without a price. And we’ve got it.” And it’s true. We fight and we throw shit. We stain the walls and rip the curtains. We start fires and try to blame the other. We make a mess and make amends. But a house isn’t a home without someone to share it with. And at least if we had to suffer to get there, we got it.

“Thats some of your poet shit.” He laughs sadly into the silence, looking at his feet. I laugh along, though I can tell he was only half joking. Then, I let the silence wash back over us. Forgetting how we almost had a full conversation.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why I’m so mean.” He says sincerely. It’s sudden too. I can tell from the rawness in his voice. How his eyes tear up and his lips quiver. His voice cracks. Our feet hang off the edge of the backyard. It’s a quiet life. Even now. With our fights and all the fraud. But it’s never a lonely life, and we only have each other to thank for it.

I want to tell him I know, and I’m so sure of it. I’ve seen the real him, we might just not mesh together. But we once had, and that fact alone holds me back. He takes the lack of response and an opportunity to excuse himself. Pulling his body up by the arms and grunting through the sliding back door. I sit alone in the backyard for hours, body curling up into itself and layers of clothing becoming less than enough after some more time.

“I know.” I whisper into the silence. I know he’s not a bad person, I know it so well and I am so certain of it. I knew Harry once. He’s loyal and kind and the smartest man I’d ever met. And I miss knowing him like that so much.

I thought for a second tonight, I’d gotten part of him back. And maybe I had, but he left so soon I couldn’t really tell all that well. He’s left me back in the silence, wondering what happened to us, and what will happen to us. Why he came to get me, and why he even bothered to open up to me. But he never gives me the time to properly ask, even if I planned to.

I ring in the New Year alone.

The next morning he’s gone. Back to New York for his business in the big city and I am left to sit and think about what was said. A half empty bottle of wine stained with my red lipstick and glitter on the floor from old party poppers Charlotte and Elin had made sure to use before making their exit. I repeat his words.

He’s not a bad person, so why is he so mean? It’s best left unknown. Because if theres one thing I fear more than anything, it’s the realization of rejection.

Even from a man I hate so entirely, it consumes me. That I could not stand to be faced with the fact that Harry and I do not get along simply because we do not work and not because of some other underlying reason.

After all, we had it all. Gave each other everything the other had wanted. Food, shelter, company. There was really so explanation for the bitterness between us.

After all, all this time, despite his anger and hatred, he never left me to the wolves. And despite my heartbreak and sadness, I never left him with an empty home.

A wise man once said to never bite the hand that feeds it. Yet, here we are. Ripping skin from bone until we are left with nothing. We are the ungrateful, the selfish, the cruel. And we both believe that we are in the right.

I am so scared of rejection from this man who I claim to hate because he is the hand that feeds me and I am the hand to him.

We aren’t bad people, so why are we so mean? We recognize all we have to be grateful for, so why do we bite the hand that feeds us?

I guess the vulnerability of it all must have scared us. And while facing the storm, we did what all people do. We let fear consume us and we bite.

Somehow, through all of this. The realizations and the tears and wine and dusty ashes, I love him. Even with my teeth sinking into his skin and his own in mine, drawing blood, I love him. I love Harry Styles. He is my best friend and I am his. That is why I am scared and that is why it hurts so bad. Not because I simply missed him, but rather because my heart was devoted to a man who did not want it.

My fingers fumble over the pad on the phone. I type up his phone number by heart and let it ring. He answers quickly, still waiting for his plane at the airport.

“Y/n?” I can hear the bustling crowds around him and the loud engines taking off from other terminals. I imagine he is plugging one of his ears and mentally cursing the noise for making it so hard to hear.

“Come home.” My breathing is unstable, and my hands run through my hair so much I create new tangles by my neck.

“What? No, Y/n, I have to go. People are expecting me.” He starts to explain how important this is for his business. How it would be so much simpler to be there rather than over a computer screen.

“Fuck them, who cares! Harry, I need you, and I want you, please just listen to me for once. Don’t scoff, or…or roll your eyes or leave! Listen to me this once and if it’s not worth it to you, I promise you’ll never have to listen to me again. Please, it’s important.” I ramble all in one breath, endless pleas met with silence. I can feel the rejection coming, I can hear the way he chokes on a breath, debating what I said.

“Okay.” The phone goes dead with his promise to come home. With the continuous beeps, I slowly come to terms with what I’d just done. But I do not feel panicked, or scared. I feel lighter with the fact that I am about to tell the moody boy something I wished I told him a long time ago.

The door opens with a creak, keys jingling in his large palms. I’d spent the morning pacing the kitchen. Leaving a trail of confetti behind in my wake. I hadn’t cared enough to clean with my endless thoughts and extreme amounts of adrenaline.

“Y/n?” His voice was unsure when it rang out. As if he didn’t know what to expect. The door shut behind him not long before I came rushing around the corner, fingernails bitten to the skin and hangnails bleeding profusely.

“God, Y/n what the hell…” Taking my hands into his, he examined the redness of my irritated skin stained further with dry blood.

“I know.” I looked at him, and he looked back at me like I was crazy.

“What?” His thumbs bent over the backs of my palms, holding me in front of him.

“I know.” I breathed out again, looking at him with such sincerity, praying for him to understand. “You’re not a bad person, and I know it because I know you. Because we fight and we tease and we scream and cry. But I know you because once we didn’t do all of that. And I needed you to know that because it wasn’t fair of me to make you believe that to be true after everything you’ve done for me.” My voice shook with how vulnerable I felt myself becoming. Harry’s hands only tightened the further I explained.

“But what about all I’ve done to you. Y/n, I’ve been awful to you and I never even told you why.” He tried to argue. I shook my head, biting my lips.

“I haven’t been much better.” I smiled sadly. He shook his head back.

“No.”

“Yes.” I blinked hard, pushing back the tears that formed watching his own gather by his waterline.

“No, Y/n, I’ve been horrible. I’ve been mean.” He tried to push away everything I was trying to ignore.

“And so have I.” I tried harder to make him understand.

“But you only did it because I had. And for what?” He finally spoke, voice raised with so much desperation behind it, I froze under his touch.

“Because I loved you so much it drove me fucking insane? Because I still love you and I’m afraid if I can’t get you to hate me I’ll never be able to stop.” He was crying now, pleading with me to make me see his side of things. All I could do was shake my head.

“Harry I could never hate you.”

“But you could never love me.” He argued.

“Thats not true, Harry tell me you know that it couldn’t be true.” I rip my hands from his grip to rest them on his cheeks. I try to wipe away his tears, but his hands cover my wrists and pull them back down.

“How could I? You said it yourself. All those months ago, I told you. I held you close and I told you I loved you. You told me I was your best friend. You couldn’t even pretend!” Neither of us could tell if he was angry or just sad. Maybe both, but no amount of denial would calm him down.

“I didn’t have to, I still don’t have to pretend! Harry, I only said that because I was so fucking scared. Scared of us, of me, of you. Of losing you if it didn’t work. And I lost you anyways, I would’ve just said it if I knew I’d lose you like this.” Our chests bumped and his fingers slipped between mine.

“Y/n.” He whispered into the silence, over our heavy breathing and salty tears.

“I love you, and I miss you.” He didn’t say anything. I could feel him slipping away as soon as his response never came. Not a single word left to say between us. Not a single amount of energy left to fight.

And then he was kissing me. Hard and sweet. Like I was everything he’d ever wanted and more. Like he was hungry, needing more and more of something he had always wanted but could never have. And at the same time, it was soft and tender. Like he never wanted it to end. My back arched within the grip of his wandering hands and my fingers tangling in his curls. I swore I would never let him go.

But it was a swear I couldn’t keep, because air dwindled quickly and spit strung between our lips. Something I would usually gag at, but didn’t mind at the moment. His forehead against mine and arms gripping the fabric by my hips so tight if I moved he could have ripped it.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized in between his heaving breaths.

“Me too.” Looking at him, I could see the red staining his lips from the makeup I’d slept in. It made me laugh, which in result made him smile.

“What? What!” He laughed along cluelessly, letting me back away for a moment.

“You have something-“ I pointed again his mouth and smiled.

“Oh do I? Do I?” He kissed my cheek, smearing the remnants of our kiss across my cheek. “Still there?” He asked with a sly grin. Like he knew he was winning.

So I kissed him hard again, smearing red around his skin and his pink lips with so much love, there was no denying my feelings anymore. There was no hate left to give.

“Yeah, you do.” It was yet another fight, but not one I minded.

After all, thats what we did for so long, it was what we were good at. The teasing and the fighting. Only now it wasn’t bitter, it was playful. And we didn’t coexist with the sole purpose of it.

Because now I was his and he was mine. And this knowledge answered all my questions, all my doubts I’d had before about our relationship and our shared insecurities that led us down this scaring path.

Harry was my best friend, and I was his. And there was no love greater than that.

[daffodilsonaprettystring]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love❤️

Thanks for the tag @brandileigh2003 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I should say most of these are unfinished lol I love writing but I’m a little all over the place

1. Without You Wolfstar Titanic AU my beloved I promise to complete you someday soon hopefully! Remus as Jack and Sirius as Rose, yes there will be MCD and it is unfinished but I adore this story with all my heart.

2. so ready to give up my soul my Destiel “Beautiful Creatures” movie AU, again unfinished but I love it so much and hope to finish it soon. Castiel as Lena Duchannes, Dean as Ethan Wate, and though the plot mostly follows the movie so far I’ve combined it with another idea I had to expand on it a little more and I’m very excited to continue it!

3. Flight Risk An imagining of how Show!Wesper Wylan Van Eck reveal could’ve gone if Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows had continued on Netflix. It’s a one shot so it is finished and genuinely one of my favorite things I’ve written, I love Wesper and Wylan so much and I’m still so upset we’ll never see anything like this in the show (F you Netflix)

4. Cursebreaker and Fireheart/Son of Night and Daughter of Stars Oh my Wattpad days how I miss you, back in 2020ish I wrote a four-part Sarah J Maas fanfiction series of a crossover between the ACOTAR and ToG worlds, starting with Feyre and Aelin in the first two and then time-skipping to their kids’ story in the next two. I created Estelle, Aelin’s daughter, and used the canon name of Nyx as Feyre’s son to create my own version of him and write him and Estelle meeting and falling in love. Sadly, the fourth fic is still unfinished, so Estelle and Nyx do not have their happy ending just yet but I LOVED writing those stupid fanfics so much they were my first attempt at fanfic and Estelle and Nyx were my first attempt at a love story and even if the writing isn’t amazing I’m still so proud of these damn books.

5. Scars Of A Gold Moon: I have never actually published this one, but it’s my Wolfstar Bookstore fic as it’s been dubbed by my friends. It’s one of the only fics I’ve written with no AU tie in or anything, just my own story with the Marauders characters and I adore it. It has Wolfstar, Reg and Lily as Remus’s best friends, Sirius in a band, Black Brothers reunions, lots of secrets from both sides of Wolfstar lmao, and ironically, this fic is the only reason I have Without You. Sirius made Remus watch Titanic so I rewatched it so they could make funny comments, and then Without You was born! Lol someday I’ll finish this and post it.

No pressure tags except I don’t know any fic authors so let’s tag some famous ones I love just for funsies @mayescapade @cal-daisies-and-briars @smilingbuckley @motswolo

And anybody else who happens across this have at it too lol

[ryuichirou]

I saw the size difference art of the Diasomnia boys and all I can say is, damn Sebek you need a bra for those honkers. Much like the post about NRC boys’ butts, do you have any headcanons on their chest sizes?

Omg Sebek and his honkers 😭 the boy looks straight-up indecent lol I get what you mean!

With how my brain is wired, I feel like in a lot of ways it’s going to correlate with the genderswap chest sizes I also wrote some time ago (update: NOPE IT’S NOT LOL), but I’ll still go through the list! Since this is more about muscle definition, right? Right… Alright, who else got honkers…

(I also don’t have much to say about some of them, sorry in advance!)

Riddle – pretty flat. We’ve seen his Beach Wear Groovy, the boy is pretty flat… there is sooome softness if you really squint, but maybe it’s just an optical illusion??

Ace – also kind of flat, but with soooome definition. Nothing to write home about, really, even though he’d like to have a big muscular chest someday.

Deuce – he also has soooome definition, but is flatter than Ace; Ace just uses his upper muscles a bit more.

Trey – definitely the biggest one of his dorm, and even though it’s muscular, it’s also surprisingly soft and squishy.

Cater – I feel like he’s pretty plain, just a flat boy.

Leona – definitely on a bigger side; he’s also kind of soft-ish, but more toned than Trey.

Ruggie – sometimes it looks like he has negative boobs. He does have some muscles, but doesn’t eat nearly enough protein to get any type of boobs :(

Jack – big boy. Very big boy. Huge. His boobs are big and heavy, definitely even bigger than Sebek’s. There is some softness to them, but not much: Jack’s boob could kill a person…

Azul – surprisingly… he’s pretty lean, but his chest is pretty noticeable when it isn’t buried under layers of clothes. It’s not big or anything, but he works hard on his body, so it’s like a natural result of that. He has to keep the perfect balance in his exercise or diet though, because it’s pretty easy for his chest to either start losing definition or becoming a bit soft.

Floyd and Jade – biiiiiig. Not as big as Jack or even Sebek, and I absolutely overdo it whenever I draw these two lol But both of them are pretty big when it comes to the chest region; Floyd is a tiiiiny bit bigger though.

Kalim – pretty close to Ace and Deuce, but also kind of soft!

Jamil – nicely defined, muscular, a little soft, but mostly toned. A bit similar to Leona’s but a size smaller lol

Vil – now this is who takes this whole thing very seriously; just like with his ass, he makes sure that his chest looks exactly how he wants it to look: it’s not flat at all, it’s actually pretty well defined, but he also paces himself just so it doesn’t get too big. There is pretty much zero softness in it, too.

Rook – terminator. Pretty much as big as Trey, but with zero softness lol He hides his boobs just as successfully as he hides his huge butt.

Epel – flat, but with more meat than Riddle, for example. But it’s not nearly enough meat for his chest to be pronounced… ahhh maybe one day! >:(

Idia – skeleton… no boobs for this man… but it’s okay we love him this way <3

Ortho – yeah, this one is also pretty obvious lol

Lilia – FLAAAAT Flatitio Lilia Flatticelli is his full name. But to be fair, I think he had more pronounced chest when he was younger. But it was never big by all means, just a bit more defined.

Silver – yeah, you’ve seen the art, I think he’s pretty big, but not as big as Sebek… he also has some softness to him, but it’s mostly because his body is more relaxed than Sebek’s, who’s always super tense.

Sebek – HONKERS. That are also hard as rock unfortunately… I feel like Sebek could break a pencil with his boobs somehow. I’m not sure how, but he might.

Malleus – it’s pronounced, it’s very noticeable when he wears anything tight, but it’s not super big.

[dianneking]

Happy Birthday, Blondie - Larissa/Melissa

Hello hello! For the first week of Back on The Writing Horse (you can find the original post and masterlist here) I am using prompt 2553 by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor

"Are you going to just spend the day alone?"

"That's what I do most days. It doesn't make a difference to me."

Thank you to @scream-queenlover for picking that prompt out for me and making this lovely cover art to go with the fic, as well as the closing one.

Fandom: Wednesday (2022) and Abott Elementary Characters: Larissa Weems / Melissa Schemmenti Tags: Friendly banter, Dare I say it's fluff? (it's fluff), Food, Mentions of skipping meals. Words: 1497

Happy Birthday, Blondie (link to AO3)

…Kind regards

Larissa Weems, principal of Nevermore Academy.

Larissa sighed in relief after clicking the send button on the latest email. Today had been quite the whirlwind of phone calls, emails and meetings, and it was still only lunchtime, who knew what the afternoon would entail. She closed her eyes, massaging her temples to try and stave off the tension headache she was starting to feel building up. She loved her job, and she loved Nevermore, but there was just something about this sort of days that really took a lot out of her.

The door to her study chose that moment to slam open, noisily hitting the cabinet at the end of its run. “Well, if it isn’t our principal caught dozing off at work!”

There was only one person in Nevermore who had the guts to barge into Larissa’s office unannounced and insult her work ethic at the same time. Larissa refused to give her the satisfaction of opening her eyes.

“What is it, Melissa?”

“Oi! At least look at me when you sigh my name. That’s a privilege not many people have, if you usurp it, I’ll have you move back to using Miss Schemmenti.”

“And we wouldn’t want that.” Larissa deadpanned. But she did crack open her eyes. The fiery head of her coworker was almost too bright in the sunlight that streamed in from the tall windows of her office.

“For sure not today of all days!” The smug grin on Melissa’s face told Larissa that the redhead knew she had won this round. Damn it.

“And what’s so special about today?” Asked Larissa petulantly.

“Are ya kidding me, Blondie?” Melissa looked at her as if she expected some sort of trick from her. Or a smart remark. That was their thing after all. A constant banter, prodding at each other trying to find the right button to push to make the other concede a point in their match of wits.

Larissa liked that. She had been too used to people in awe of her, or too scared of her power (both the political one and the actual shapeshifting) to pose much of a challenge for her. When Melissa joined Nevermore, Larissa had at first balked at what she had perceived as blatant disrespect from the latest addition to staff. But after a while a sort of understanding had formed between the two women, a sort of mutual recognition of kindred spirits (aided by a couple of heart-to-hearts brought along by copious amounts of wine, but they didn’t talk about those too much).

Melissa must have read that she was still missing the point, because she lifted her eyes to the ceiling, as if to ask the heavens to grant her patience, and strode forward to place a cafeteria tray on Larissa’s desk. Larissa blinked at the plates: on one, a heaping portion of lasagna that looked way too good to be standard Nevermore fare, and on the second, bigger plate, a whole chocolate cake, complete with a dripping layer of decadent ganache and a wonky writing that recited: Are you a natural blonde or did you dye for attention?

Larissa tried to avoid drooling at the sight, while her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had skipped breakfast, again, this morning.

“Happy birthday, Blondie.”

Oh. Was it today? Larissa could’ve sworn today was still Thursday and her birthday wasn’t until…

…her eyes fell on the stylish calendar perched on the side of her desk.

Friday, February 16th.

Whoops.

“You can’t be serious. You had to check the calendar to be sure it was your birthday?”

“No!” Larissa lied quickly. “I just hmm…I wanted to check something, that’s all.”

“Sure, sure, whatever makes you sleep at night. Eat up, you don’t want my lasagna to get cold.”

Larissa picked up the fork. That was Melissa’s cooking. That’s why it looked – and smelled! – so absolutely divine.

“Thank you by the way, you didn’t have to.”

“Oh please. We both know that you skip more lunches than the ones you actually eat. At least on your birthday you should enjoy some good cooking.”

Larissa dipped her fork into the lasagna, inclining it sideways to slice a bite off of it and scooping it up to bring it to her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed in pure bliss as she chewed. It was an explosion of flavors and textures, perfectly balanced and delicious in every aspect. The fullness of the meat, the tangy and yet sweet tomato sauce, the sheets of pasta cooked to perfection, all enveloped by the smooth embrace of the bechamel sauce…it wasn’t just a lasagna, it was a masterpiece.

“Wow.” Was the only word that she could form before she dove back in.

She heard Melissa’s throaty chuckle, and knew without raising her eyes that there was another self-satisfied smile adorning her lips. Well, Larissa could allow her this one. The lasagna was really something else.

They sat in silence for some time while Larissa ate, Melissa having slouched in one of the armchairs in front of Larissa’s desk, as perfectly at ease as if she was in her own living room, before the redhead spoke conversationally.

“You know, I am glad I dropped by at lunch break, so I managed to remind you in time to get ready for whatever you have planned tonight. Not attending your own birthday party would be kinda lame.”

Larissa took her time swallowing the bite before she replied.

“Oh, that’s kind of you, but I don’t have anything planned for tonight. Just a quiet evening in, you know?” Actually, the more this conversation went on, the more Larissa was looking forward to curling up on her couch with a bottle of wine and some good music. Maybe read a bit, too? She almost didn’t remember the plot to the novel she was reading, so long it had been since she last had time to open it. Was that lame? She had just turned 46, she was allowed to wallow a bit and not go out and celebrate if she didn’t feel like it. Right?

“Oh come on. You’re not gonna spend your birthday evening here in your office, are you?”

“Why not? It’s a very nice study, I spent years decorating it just like I want to.”

“Yeah of course. I mean what’s a better birthday companion than a stuffed raven, after all? But seriously, Larissa,” Melissa’s tone turned serious, and the fact that she used her first name instead of a ridiculous nickname signaled that this was not a question Larissa could brush off flippantly, “are you really going to just spend the day alone?"

"That's what I do most days. It doesn't make a difference to me." Larissa shrugged, cleaning the last bit of lasagna sauce off the plate with the side of her fork. She had never been a huge fan of birthdays anyway.

“Absolutely not! I will not allow that.”

“I…beg your pardon?”

“You may beg all you want but you won’t get out of this. Be all ready and dolled up at six this evening. I might not have as many resources here in Vermont but the ex-husband of my second cousin owns the most disreputable dive bar in Williston. We’re going.”

“Melissa, there’s no need to…”

“No no. You misunderstand. This was not a question. You’ll be coming with me to party on your birthday night whether you like it or not, Miss Weems. And you’ll have the time of your life doing so.”

Larissa met her eyes, her bright green eyes looking up at Larissa as if challenging her to disagree, and all it did was make a lovely warmth spread in the taller woman’s chest. She shook her head, an exasperated smile climbing to her lips. 

“Alright, alright, you stubborn woman. You win. We’ll go celebrate my old age at your shady bar. But you’re offering the first round.”

“Ha! As if I’d let the birthday lady pay for her own drinks! I’ll have you know that my nonna raised me properly!”

They made eye contact across the desk, blue meeting green with an intensity that was new and warm and exciting. Larissa tried to convey in that gaze how much Melissa’s actions meant to her. Not just the cake and the birthday wishes. Hell, not even the invite to go out together. It was the fact that Melissa was there for Larissa in a way nobody had been in a very long time.

“Thank you, Melissa.” She said, frustrated at herself for being unable to say more, and yet charging those two simple words with all those untold things.

She was able to see the blush crawling up the other woman’s cheeks at her gratitude, and couldn’t help but think how adorable it made Melissa look. Clearly embarrassed, the redhead ran a hand through her locks and spoke in a gruff voice.

“So are you just gonna stare or are you gonna try the cake?”

The End

For anyone wondering, this is loosely in the same universe as my other Larissa/Melissa fic, New Teacher In Town. You can find more of my fics in my masterlist

Next fic in the challenge >

[universallydestinytaco]

A Wild Nerve-Ending on a Friday Night (Oneshot)

*mood music*

Well, tonight is the end of S2, beautiful friends…it’s been a lot of fun. I’d like to thank each and every one of you who made this off the wall, chaotic shitposting journey with us. This blog wouldn’t have been anything without y’all! Hopefully this show left us with some good memes….

So, until S3, I’m gonna keep writing silly little fanfics like this! Stay gold, critters.

….bang. /ref

Inspired by this post from @friendlysmiler

Pim is canonically quite the party animal himself from what we saw in everyone’s favorite episode so who knows what hijinks the little pink imp gets into? XD

Side Note: Bill and Smormu are not only both alive here but they’re a wlw couple here, Bill is a he/him lesbian and Smormu is transfemme and sapphic, because that’s how I roll.

Monday, 7:15am

A fresh start to a brand new week at the Smiling Friends charity has officially began as everyone punched in and awaited their breakfast Alan theatrically-prepared while he channeled his inner Joichiro Yukihira in the breakroom kitchen.

Charlie was scrolling through his phone while smirking at old Rage Comics from over a decade ago with Glep watching on his shoulder and making a similar goofy smirk while Pim happily drew a picture of his co-workers in colored pencils to stick onto the fridge while quietly singing a song from one of his comfort shows.

“Take a moment to think of juuuust, flexibility love and truuust~”

Once Pim colored inside the lines, he hopped out of his chair and scurried to the fridge to display his masterpiece. “Excuse me, I’m just going to grab the cheese to melt over our deluxe omelette.” asked Alan in his usual monotone voice while Pim let out a nervous squeak while stepping out of Alan’s way. While Alan grabbed what he needed he inspected Pim’s drawing a with an impressed smile. “I really like your picture here, you even perfectly replicated my scales.”

Pim started excitedly fidgeting his hands as he chirped: “Thank you, Alan, I always find it weird whenever people draw you, they tend to forget or deliberately leave it out. I think your scales are beautiful!” Alan got a bit bashful while trying to stay focused on finding the cheese grater, uttering a somewhat-shaker “Thank you, you’re too kind….damn can’t find it, don’t want to burn the omelette so I’ll just-“ Alan grabbed a knife and precisely peeled thin-layers of cheddar to gently lay on top of the fluffy eggy clouds seasoned with garden-fresh herbs and spring onions.

Charlie couldn’t resist making a cheap shot at his slinky red co-worker: “Hey guys, Alan cut the cheese.”, such was a line that caused him and Glep to burst into laughter as if they where in grade school. Alan, who was serving plates carrying slices of the omelette, wasn’t amused and was tempted to gift the two wisecracking ingrates each an equally-tasteless surprise of pulling a Glep into their food, but took the high-brow road with a classy remark: “Let’s switch the conversation to a topic with actual substance…so, how did everyone’s weekend go?”

Charlie piped up first: “I played through the entirety of this one cool RPG for two days straight then when I finally beat it I celebrated getting wasted at the bar before getting kicked out for starting another brawl and spent all Sunday sleeping off my hangover.” He lifted his right sleeve to reveal the cherry on top: “On the way home I got this bitchin’ tattoo.” Lovingly detailed on Charlie’s arm was a crudely-drawn snake-dragon thing with arms breathing fire.

Alan then turned to Pim, asking: “How was yours?” to which Pim casually replied: “Oh, nothing much, the highlight was me and some friends hanging out at a pool.”

…

Friday, 6:00pm ~ Three Nights Ago…

Pim was sneaking around with a group of familiar faces as the moon hung in the sky like a charm on a bracelet, a chorus of snickering harmonized with the chirping crickets and the hooting owls. They stop at their final destination: the fence barring access to a familiar estate from the common folk….that didn’t stop the wild bunch from helping each other break in by climbing over and slipping through. Greeting the mischievous party was a grandiose pool yard just begging for the crowd to jump in. “Ah, the perks of having connections with an A-List Celebrity….” Pim monologued to himself, before taking his shirts and shorts off revealing underneath was a hot sparkly teal one-piece with a star-shaped hole at the back for his pollywog tail to peek through. Smormu, who wore a pink floral-print bikini under her button-up and capri-pants whispered to Pim: “Are you sure we’re not going to get caught?” Pim replied with a grin: “Don’t worry, love, Mr. Frog’s out and about somewhere, probably at a crummy bar, and probably causing his usual commotions there so he isn’t too concerned with whatever’s happening here.” As Duncan and Dj Spitz set the mood by the former playing a 90s bop out of a retro boombox and the latter breaking out the booze, Everyone stampeded over to the pool in unison, each individual jumping in the cold crisp waters in various amusing ways as the loud victory cry of “GERONIMOOOO!!!!” bursted out of the ever-excitable Filmore’s mouth like a firework into the sky. It was a rip-roaring time with just a hint of good-old-fashioned chaos, just the way Pim liked it.

Just three nights night ago around this time, Pim was uncontrollably sobbing to himself in a pillow over the fact that his fickle sister Amy invited literally everyone she knew to her wedding… except for her ever-loyal and loving baby brother, bragging about having Mr. Frog as a celebrity guest. Sick of crying his eyes out and being excluded from his family’s lives on a daily basis, he figured he could have a celebration of his own! The only downside was his co-workers having plans of their for that weekend, otherwise he would have invited them over for this late-night dive.

“A toast to our dear comrade and member of the Pennsylvania UFO-Hunting Squad, the ever-lovable Pimling!” Bill proposed as he raised his glass, everyone followed suit, chanting Pim’s name, except for a heavily-intoxicated Dj Spitz pounding in his chest and hollering out: “FUCK YEAH ROCK ON LIL PINK MAN!!!” Of course Pim immediately got flustered, his face turned a vivid shade of hot pink as a result of all the positive attention while mustering the confidence to reply until grinning sheepishly and raising his own glass, stuttering: “T-thank you everyone, you’re all too kind…all this hype about little ol’ me.” In a rush off of the praise and the sheer audacity of his actions, he chugged his drink down without a second thought. Everything after that was a string of vague, discombobulated visions of what happened in-between the rest of the night…

Saturday, 5:02am

It was a very early morning when the dizzy, light-headed Pim woke up front-facing the twilight sky melting into daytime, getting up and finding himself floating inside Mr. Frog’s grandiose fountain in front of his house until he immediately snapped out of it upon just noticing the strewn toilet paper and graffiti all over the statue. In a panic, Pim swam out and scurried around looking for everyone else and making sure nobody was left behind, his heart raced discovering more of the shameless if not karmic defilement of Mr. Frog’s property: overturned lawn chairs with one thrown into a window, discarded junk inside the pool and the jacuzzi, more TP strewn around like party streamers and someone’s trunks (presumably Duncan’s) hung like a flagpole like a comical take on a windsock. It seemed everyone except Pim had taken off before sunrise if not gotten arrested. Combined with the panic attack he was getting and the unambiguous symptoms of a hangover reeking havoc on his body, Pim tried to reach for a trash can to stress-vomit until he collapsed and relieved his bile in the jacuzzi. Minutes went by as Pim felt weak like a newborn kitten, prepared for the legal trouble he was about to get himself in if Mr. Frog wasn’t going to maim him Spamtopia-style first….just then a familiar voice rang in Pim’s ears that filled him with relief, Pim’s eyes cracked open as he started upward at a sober Bill holding the hand of his stumbling partner, Smormu. “Morning, buddy, need a hand?” Pim responded without so much words as it was a tired grunt and raising his stubby pink hand to initiate Bill and Smormu helping their friend up. “Let’s hurry and get out of here, unless we wanna throw a party in the county tank.” Bill chuckled.

Later that day saw a double-dose of tea and drama Pim was secretly and gleefully catching up with, from Pim’s mother recanting to Pim how much of a disaster Amy’s wedding was when Mr. Frog showed his ass once again by getting drunk and trashing the place, even spilling red wine on her wedding dress. Then the news that Mr. Frog came home to his place utterly savaged, claiming he’d seek revenge on the purp but considering the type of person he was, everyone assumed that Frog did it himself after coming home from the wedding he was invited too and was too drunk to remember.

Monday, 7:27am

Pim finished with an uproar of laughter from his co-workers plus Mr. Boss, all of them in shock and awe that the one always perceived as the cute little “goody-two-shoes” of the Smiling Friends charity was capable of getting up to some serious frat boy-level shenanigans. Charlie felt as if he wasted his time spending his weekend the same as the last, so he asked his best friend: “Hey Pim, you think I can hang out with you next weekend?” Pim made an innocent pose, putting his finger on his lips as if he was a kid who got caught stealing from a cookie jar. “Well, maybe not same-the-same-place but I know another celebrity’s pool yard to break into! I hear the Krombledashians are hosting the Meep Gala next Saturday…”

[putschki1969]

Kaji Fes.2023 Day 1 FULL Video [Reupload]

Find the original post from last night HERE. It doesn't show up on the Tumblr dashboard so only people who actively check my blog have seen it. I exchanged the video with an official one so I guess it might have been a copyright issue. Don't think I've ever had one, very interesting.

»»——  CLICK ME 🎁 CLICK ME ——««

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I was quite excited to watch this since I only attended Day 2 last December. I didn’t necessarily regret not going for Day 1 but there were a couple of really neat songs in the setlist that I kinda wished I had been able to see performed live. The audio seems a bit dull but maybe it’s just me… Anyway, it’s still a pretty epic live. Please note that they decided to cut a handful of songs from the broadcast (probably to keep the whole thing at roughly 2 hours). The following songs are not included: fake garden, canta per me, she has to overcome her fear, I beg you and 砂塵の彼方へ.

Here are some random thoughts┗(•ˇ_ˇ•)―→

fake garden

canta per me

the world: Nothing much to say here. Decent performance but I liked the song more when it was led by Keiko.

Liminality: Loved, loved, loved this version with the amazingly talented Yuri Kasahara, Keiko and Kaori. The bridge here might be my favourite of all time.

in the land of twilight, under the moon: Never been a fan.

swordland: Another highlight for me. I think it’s easy to tell that I am a real sucker for YK’s guest vocalists that use a more operatic singing style.

she has to overcome her fear

luminous sword: Always been a big fan of Yuki’s SAO soundtrack. I understand why it gets performed a lot.

星屑: Even though this is a Keiko-centric song, I’ve never really liked it all that much so I don’t have much to say about it.

花守の丘: Solid.

ｗe’re gonna groove: Those who have followed me for a while know how I feel about the accordion. I dislike this instrument with a passion and it’s just featured way too heavily here. Fun fact, when Day 2 started with the accordion, I got really scared and wondered whether or not I would enjoy myself.

Obsession: Can’t say I’ve ever heard this song before. Sadly, it’s nothing that leaves a lasting impression. Also, that accordion…(¬_¬) Weird choice for LINO LEIA. It was fun hearing Keiko sing a bit of English though.

千夜一夜: Once again, not familiar with the song. Like this one a bit more though. Generally, I think I prefer rito’s vocals over LINO’s even though I don’t really know why.

Point Zero: This is one of my all-time favourite YK songs and one of the few tracks I really regret not seeing live on Day 1. Another epic performance by Yuri Kasahara. God, I love her so much.

salva nos: Speaking of regrets, yup, I’ll admit it, I am pretty bummed that I missed this one. “salva nos” and “a song of storm and fire” were the very first YK songs I ever listened to and they quite literally changed the trajectory of my life. Without those two songs, I wouldn’t have looked into more of YK’s stuff and I certainly wouldn’t have discovered Kalafina. One day, I wanna be there for a live performance. At least I got to hear “a song of storm and fire” on Day 2. So grateful for that!! Anyway, super epic.

花の唄: No thoughts.

I beg you

櫂: Ahh, I almost forgot about Aimer’s Mizu no Akashi 2.0. It’s so funny to me that this is literally copy/paste. Lovely melody, I don’t even mind the vocals all that much but damn, it’s not even coming close to Wakana’s Mizu no Akashi.

朝が来る: Decent but nothing to write home about.

My Story: Ohhh, another score track from “Hanako to Anne”. I was actually blown away by Day 2’s “希望の光”. This is not as good but still quite nice. Weirdly enough I am obsessed with the uilleann pipes. How come I can’t stand the accordion but I absolutely love this instrument? Probably because I am really into the celtic sound?

Parallel Hearts: Ugh, never liked this song, not even when Wakana was still around.

stone cold: This on the other hand is a song I’ve always enjoyed but with Wakana no longer in the picture, it’s just not the same. Will never get used to the Kaori chorus. Sorry T_T Still like this though.

the image theme of Xenosaga II: Good stuff.

蒼穹のファンファーレ: Love that this is focusing on the FJ regulars. My favourite performance of the song so far.

[yellobb]

Tell me about ye olde "cold case outline"

Ooooo I was hoping someone asked about this one when I first posted the ask game!!!!

From this ask game

Cold Case Outline

This is another WIP that my sister and I did that we actually fully fleshed out, but I am still holding out a bit of hope that one day I’ll actually write the damn thing.

Simon is a mechanic and Baz is an Instagram model. They first meet when Baz brings his Jag in, and he’s immediately enamored with Simon in his oil-stained tank top, messy curls, and freckles. Simon immediately falls in love with Baz’s Jag and fawns over it, which does not help Baz’s predicament. He starts coming to the shop as often as possible with any excuse he can think of (oil change, tire rotation, “the building is just very aesthetic, Snow, so I need you to take my picture while I pose all sexy”). He even keys his own car at one point to have an excuse to visit him (it was a moment of desperation and he’s not proud of it, but he stands by his actions).

Simon lives with Penny and Shepard. Shepard is very into true crime and is hoping to start a podcast of his own about it. Shep visits Simon at work one day, but he gets very quiet and starts staring at Baz when he walks in to drop off the Jag, looking like he’s seen a ghost. Baz is visibly uncomfortable, so Simon kicks Shep out until Baz is good to go. He asks Shep what the hell that was all about afterwards, and Shep is like “that’s Baz Pitch”. “Yeah, and?” “Like, Natasha and Malcolm Grimm-Pitch’s son?! From the 2002 Olympics! Do you think he’d let me interview him for my podcast?”

It turns out, Baz isn’t just mildly famous for his Instagram presence. In 2002, when he was just five years old, his mother was an Olympic figure skater. The day of her event, she didn’t show up to warm-ups. She was found dead under suspicious circumstances over a week later. There are clips of some of her last moments where she acts erratically that went viral, and her case has fascinated the public ever since.

We didn’t get far on actually writing out this story, but what I did finish is a news report that explains the circumstances of Natasha’s death 👀 I’ve included it under the cut if anyone wants to read it! I’m actually pretty damn proud of how it turned out and have always wanted to share it, so I hope y’all enjoy :)

Natasha Grimm-Pitch Death Still Stumps People 20 Years Later

Natasha Grimm-Pitch, world-renowned ice dance figure skater from Great Britain and 3x Olympic medalist, went missing on February 9th, 2002. That morning, her husband and partner, Malcolm Grimm, woke up to find she had not returned in the night. Assuming she had stayed the night with her sister, Fiona Pitch, who had traveled with the pair in order to watch their 5-year-old son, Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch, while they competed, Grimm got ready for the day’s competition, but began to grow worried when Pitch met him at the Salt Lake Ice Center without her sister. She had met Grimm to take Tyrannus, known as “Baz” by those close to the family, but was shocked to find out that Grimm-Pitch had not returned to the couple’s room in the Olympic Village.

“Nat had come over the night before, yeah,” Pitch said, when interviewed about the disappearance the day after the event. “She came over to my hotel room to get some stress relief. I mean, this was her moment. She’d been out of the public eye for a while, after having Baz, and felt like she needed to medal in order to prove herself. I couldn’t tell you who she was proving herself to, though. She never cared what other people thought of her; not even me.”

Grimm was hesitant to alert the police, hoping that his wife had stayed with a teammate, but couldn’t hesitate any longer once warm-up was scheduled to start and she had yet to make an appearance.

“Nat would never have missed a warm-up, especially not now. She’s always on time. Something happened to her,” Grimm told the press the day of the disappearance. Grimm-Pitch’s disappearance caused a stir in the Olympic Village, especially amongst her teammates.

“I knew Natasha. That woman was a force to be reckoned with. When I heard that Malcolm had forfeited their position, I knew something was wrong. Everyone was uneasy as soon as we heard. I think we all knew, deep down, what must have happened. None of us even saw Natasha take a sick day. There was no way in hell she was going to let something stop her from competing again,” said teammate, Mitali Bunce, a year after her disappearance.

A mass investigation was launched into the disappearance, with state and local police leading the search. Grimm searched the streets with his sister-in-law in the hopes of finding her, often leaving their child in the care of the other British athletes. Though the ice dance competition continued, this would not be the case for long.

Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s body was found, washed-up in nearby Farmington Bay, on February 20th, just over a week after her disappearance. The Olympic Village, and the world, watched on in shock as her death was officially announced by the Salt Lake City Police Department at 11:08 AM. The Olympic Committee officially suspended what remained of the ice dance competition that evening, putting out a statement about the tragedy:

“In light of the recent tragedy involving ice dancer, Natasha Grimm-Pitch, the Olympic Committee has unanimously decided to suspend the ice dance competition for the remainder of the Olympic season. We ask the figure skating community to come together at this time to honor her legacy and mourn her loss. The Committee will reconvene in the next month to determine when the events will be completed.”

Her body was flown back to the family’s home in Hampshire, UK, but the FBI stayed in contact with British authorities for the resulting investigation. In the coming months, the mystery only grew. According to her autopsy, Grimm-Pitch had been dead for around 230 hours, placing her death sometime on the evening of February 10th, the day after she went missing. To make the case more shocking, she had only been submerged in the water for five days upon being found, meaning there was a six day gap between her death and her body being, supposedly, dumped in the bay. Despite this, she appeared to have died of natural causes, with nothing to indicate that she had resisted an attacker. There were already rumors in the news surrounding foul play, but things really exploded once security camera footage was made publicly available in April 2002.

In a now infamous clip, Grimm-Pitch is shown entering the Olympic Village at 3:00 AM, missing her shoes and the bag her sister claimed she left her hotel room with. Grimm-Pitch appears to be disoriented, running to hide behind walls and looking around wildly, despite no one being in the vicinity. The footage lasts six minutes, with Grimm-Pitch circling the building she was staying in, even briefly entering the entranceway before stumbling back out.

Her erratic behaviour combined with the confounding circumstances around her actual death threw the media into a frenzy. Every major news outlet reported for over a month with updates in the case, but no suspects were ever identified. It seemed that there were no leads whatsoever. The figure skating community and the true crime community alike waited with bated breaths to find if her death was ruled a suicide, homicide, or accident.

Unfortunately, the answer never came. In 2013, the case was unofficially closed after over a decade with no new information. The case has gone down as one of the most shocking and mysterious disappearances in British and American history alike. The Grimms and Pitches are still desperate for answers, though.

A year after the death of his wife, Malcolm Grimm officially announced his campaign for Prime Minister in the United Kingdom. Despite critics saying he was using Grimm-Pitch’s death to further his political aspirations, which had begun in 1997 with the birth of his son, he won the seat. With his victory, the most popular conspiracy theory surrounding Grimm-Pitch’s death was born.

Many people believe that Grimm knew their performance would fail, leading to them fading from the public eye. To prevent this, Grimm chose to murder his wife and use the sympathy he garnered following her death to get elected. He, allegedly, drugged her, waited for her to die, and hid her body in their room until, six days later, the police grew suspicious of him, so he dumped her body in the bay as a cover-up. Proponents of this theory claim that the mortician performing the autopsy was paid off to lie about finding drugs in her system.

Another popular theory surrounds Fiona Pitch. Pitch has a record of substance abuse, so theories have circulated about her, accidentally or otherwise, giving Grimm-Pitch more than she could handle (despite multiple sources stating that she never used drugs). The theory states that Grimm-Pitch managed to leave her sister’s hotel room before she started experiencing delusions and paranoia. Her sister, who had aided in the search for her, then found her body six days later, dead from overdose, and dumped her in the bay to avoid indicating herself in manslaughter. Many point to a 1995 case involving Pitch where her boyfriend, Nicodemus Petty, overdosed in their London apartment. Pitch herself barely survived the ordeal, but was saved when Petty’s sister, Ebeneza Petty, happened to visit that morning and was able to call paramedics. Pitch was convicted of illegal substance abuse and spent five years in rehabilitation facilities. She claims that she has been clean ever since.

Others believe that it was simply a case of mania, despite Grimm-Pitch’s nearly spotless mental health record. She had been prescribed Wellbutrin following the birth of her son, but stopped using it after only a year. To this day, the case remains unsolved.

Despite the rumors surrounding the family, they have seen unbelievable success. Grimm still enjoys a successful political career, but the star of the show is Tyrannus “Baz” Grimm-Pitch. He has grown a large following online, amassing thirty million followers on his Instagram since its creation in 2018. Grimm-Pitch enjoys a life as an Instagram model with an estimated net worth of nearly $10 million. Despite being in the limelight since his mother’s death, he has yet to publicly comment on the infamous case. His aunt acts as his manager, but abstains from all public appearances.

[jujumin-translates]

[A3!] Event | A Postman Delivering Your Feelings | Episode 4

Misumi: (We all get letters from our fans, so we all have connections to letters, but… Who from Autumn Troupe would be good…?)

Misumi: Hm~m…

*Door opens*

Sakyo: Ikaruga? What are you groaning about?

Misumi: Ah, Sakyo!

Misumi: I’m scouting people for the post office event, but I don’t have anyone from Autumn Troupe yet…

Misumi: I was just trying to figure out who from Autumn Troupe to ask to do it~.

Sakyo: Someone from Autumn Troupe, huh… I think Hyodo and Nanao both said they already had plans.

Sakyo: …Then I guess I’ll do it.

Misumi: Huh, you’ll do it, Sakyo!?

Sakyo: I didn’t have a cell phone as a kid, so I used to write things like letters and New Year’s cards.

Sakyo: Even now, I sometimes add brief comments when I enter sweepstakes, since it helps me with fan interactions.

Misumi: I see! Ehehe, I’m glad you told me that, Sakyo~.

Misumi: Then let’s do our best with the event performance!

Sakyo: Damn right.

Misumi: Good, that’s three people scouted out! Lemme tell Director-san~.

LIME

△△△: Director-san! I’ve decided on the people who will do the Happy Letter event!

△△△: It’s Guy and Tsuzuru and Sakyo △△△

Izumi: Thanks! Let’s all get together sometime tomorrow then.

△△△: ‘Kaaay! I’ll be sure to tell everyone.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Izumi: Misumi-kun, Masumi-kun, Yuki-kun, Tasuku-san, and then Guy-san, Tsuzuru-kun, and Sakyo-san. You guys are the seven members participating in the event.

Izumi: Except for the first few, the members were decided on by Misumi-kun on my behalf this time.

Izumi: Thanks, Misumi-kun!

Misumi: You’re welcome~.

Izumi: Once again, thanks for taking this on, you guys!

Guy: Yes, I will do my best to make this a good event.

Misumi: Let’s all do our best to make this event a success!

Izumi: Yeah, exactly. Alright, here are the details of the event.

Izumi: As I think I’ve told you before, in addition to performing on stage on the day of the event, you’ll also be helping with serving customers.

Izumi: There will be a capsule toy corner, a corner selling stationery, postcards, and stamps, and a letter-writing booth.

Izumi: For any information about the contents of the performance, you can talk to Tsuzuru-kun.

Tsuzuru: I told Director about it earlier, but I’ve actually already started thinking about the script.

Tsuzuru: Now that the plot is somewhat decided on, I’ll give you a rough summary of it and what I’ve got in mind for the casting.

Tsuzuru: The setting is a near-future city where technology is advancing. The young people living in the city have rarely used post offices.

Tsuzuru: And the protagonist is a new postal worker who doesn’t really know what a “letter” is.

Masumi: So even though they hardly know anything about letters, they’re a postal worker.

Tsuzuru: Yeah, so then the new delivery person is doing his job properly while being scolded by a senior delivery person every day…

Tsuzuru: But then when the protagonist delivers a letter written by an older brother to his younger brother, he realizes that there are some feelings that can only be expressed in a letter…

Tsuzuru: And that each letter is written with the recipient in mind and the overall importance of letters.

Sakyo: I see, sounds interesting.

Yuki: And it fits the theme of “To Your Loved Ones…” too.

Tasuku: Yeah, it does. I’m curious about the details of the story and I’m looking forward to acting it out too.

Tsuzuru: Thank you so much.

Tsuzuru: For the casting, I’m thinking Ikaruga-san should be Letra, the protagonist rookie delivery person, and Masumi as Riffle, the other rookie delivery person…

Tsuzuru: And then Yuki as the senior delivery person Stamp, and for the veteran delivery people, Envelope and Tiga, Furuichi-san and Takato-san…

Tsuzuru: Guy-san as Carta, the postmaster, and I’m thinking I’ll be Lease, the older brother sending the letter.

Tsuzuru: I’ll share the script with all of you when I’m finished with it.

Yuki: Near-future postal workers, huh? Am I allowed to start talking costumes yet?

Tsuzuru: Yeah, sure thing. Let’s continue the meeting after this.

Yuki: Yeah, let’s do that.

Izumi: Alright, then I guess everyone aside from Tsuzuru-kun and Yuki-kun is dismissed for the day.

Izumi: Once the script is done, let’s discuss rehearsals and role studies again.

Troupe Members: Yeah!

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