#and then i think i will just give it to someone random

[grotesquevi]

cheers to your roommate, ellie williams. a vampire who’s into weird painplay and hating you.

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎ ㅤ previous || 1k celebration list || music || next

cw    #     18+  as it contains smut, blood kink, threats and death wishes, academic rivals pipeline (she hates you abby level), this is a vampire universe settled in college, mentions of murder, whiny switch!ellie + masochist!ellie combo (she likes to burns herself with [redacted] and [redacted] during sex), ngl she's kinda dark in here? serious obsessive, dryhumping, fingering, some oral fixation, painplay, based on this ask for my 1k celebration! pss there's an small 2nd part of vampire!ellie here! — wc: 6k, image credits to cl6ireredfield on pinterest <3

ellie williams hates her roommate wholeheartedly.

it's a visceral feeling that settles in her stomach, similar to feed from rotten blood every time you cross her sight, living the undead life unfazed by her presence. you use her kitchen, her shower, her fucking sofa — makes her sure you're designed somehow to be everything she hates.

like a nightmare she's obligated to walk through every night, living with you in a small dormitory out of random assignation is something that never fails to get her in a bad mood: she's the best of her generation, prime hunter killer and top of the class, yet instead of receiving a congratulation basket or something similar, she only gets to have a shitty newly-turned vampire she happens to hate as a roommate.

it fills ellie with a rage she never knew before, ever so consuming and devastating that settles in her chest and blossoms like nightshade in her dead heart. you got the attention of her favorite teachers, walking around like the academy is yours, as if the elders were on your side when you were nothing but a human years before.

so yes, it's safe to say ellie’s mad. mad to the point it turns into an obsession that gets out of hand by the first couple of months, a race she knows is one-sided cause you're too busy not giving a single fuck at first. begins with having better grades, drink your blood rests in the freezer, ruin every single aspect of your life until you're truly miserable.

miserable. things would be easier if she stuck to her plans for once in her life, always failing in the process of her revengeful ideas, much sense if she wasn't so drawn to you, attracted like a polar opposite cause she wishes to be different than you — everything you're not.

hate is a powerful feeling. hate keeps the semester interesting, cause what else would ellie be doing more than spending every second salivating on the idea of making you fall off the rankings of the university once and for all? think about spitting blood on your mouth in the filthiest way possible? not really.

she can't afford these kinds of thoughts anymore, not when you insist on being a threat on a random tuesday night.

"so um, i don't know how to break this, but why do you have holy water? we can get in trouble for this if someone knows..." what the fuck did you just say? she barely talks to you during the night, so why are you talking to her? ellie's gaze travels from her awfully boring book to your pretty eyelashes that bats holding a small glass container with a metal cross in the center.

fuck.

too fast. everything's too fast when it gets out of hand: did she leave the bottle in the bathroom? how could she forget? — "what the fuck are you doing? you can't-" your words get lost in the air as she's pressing her pocket knife against your neck, lost pupils that dilate with nothing but boiling rage.

"say that again and i'll slit your throat" she spits. and by the look in her eyes, you know it's true. you hold no remnants of human blood in your system, but she could make you bleed if she wishes to. kill a vampire is as easy as feeding from a human, and to ellie, it's a threat she's willing to follow. "give me the pleasure and fucking say it big mouth. cause i'll never let them find you."

it's funny for a moment, when the knife presses against your skin ready to damage and you know deep down, she could be expelled and secluded for your death, become a clan-less vampire who'd die of despair or in hands of the hunters that now became a worldwide net if they knew the threats she's making against someone of her own kind: is it worth it?

the only threats ever made are reserved for humans and hunters, so it's clear when the adrenaline rushes to every corner of your body instead and you become aware of her hate, finally. fucking finally, you seem to realize the way she looks down at you like you were nothing, gaze inked with disgust. she would not hesitate to end your immortality with the same desperation you wish to do good and impress the elders who offered you a second life.

so the next few days, your eyes shine differently when seeing your roommate after the accident. knowing her dirty little secret and never even daring to mention it, you avoid ellie's presence more than ever now: arrive close to the sunrise and leave when the sun is about to disappear on the horizon. it's a new weight you're forced to carry in your shoulders now that you understand it.

ellie williams hates you wholeheartedly.

"can you pay attention to me for one fucking minute?" maybe shaw is right to be mad because ellie didn't go down on her today: a victim of her head as she’s been too distracted lately — "you're at a party and you're only interested in what she's doing."

the vampire brows furrow in question: what is her fling implying?

"it's not like that. you know it."

"maybe you should fuck her tonight instead of me" annoying. is she jealous? that would be new.

"please think about what you're saying." ellie would like to deny it even further, but she's stuck with the lame fact that she cannot take her eyes off you even from the other side of the room. fresh blood in your hand, you don't realize your roommate is at the same party as you are cause you're busy laughing and catching up with your pathetic, unimportant friends — "i feel nothing but repulsion for her."

"yeah," she can't blame shaw either for being tired, putting up with this attitude she's been keeping the entire semester: you're a fucking sickness for the dead, one she chooses to keep close, "you're fucking obsessed with your roommate, admit it. stop pissing me off with your lame jealousy and fucking do something about it, asshole."

the music's so loud for a moment that the bass makes ellie think she's alive for a second. how her heart must be beating as shaw leaves her behind, not really caring about whatever excuse she could make out in the moment: fucking do something.

it sits in her brain like a bad idea, marinating as she pretends to be interested in what the rest are talking about close to her. you're drunk it seems, flirting with a girl whose skirt is too high up her thighs — as if ellie’s going to ever allow you to take some random vampire who's standards are low enough to get in your sheets after one shitty party. she lives under the same roof too.

so she watches this whole interaction wishing to rip someones throat out. sipping on fresh blood from a plastic cup in a corner of the room, unable to tear away her gaze from you, an addictive sight under the throbbing lights that goes from blue to the richest pink hue as they reflect on your skin like a dream. a nightmare.

does she hate you? yes. hates the way you look, the way you feed, hates you in training when you're tacking shaw to the floor, climbing on top of her and succeeding to pin her down, leave her breathless beneath you as ellie debates herself on how deep her hate goes — could she make it aside to pin you down on her bed too? surely.

do something.

the entire night is a sick game to you — must be. you know the risks of getting involved with her, not only by her random acts of violence but because of her weird stash of holy water, the crucifixes you find the other day. it doesn't matter however, when you're staring at her even when people talk to you, pretending you don't feel the punch of ellie's gaze craving holes in your skin to demand just a tiny bit of your attention.

it's similar to haunting. you party like it's the woods and she's at the top notch animal on the top of the pyramid already lurking for some food. you're too drunk. high on rich kid blood fresh from the slaughterhouse of the academy, abusing on that heady feeling that gives you the confidence to stand in front of the vampire in a rush of adrenaline.

so it's perfect. perfect cause nobody seemed to care, nobody knows whats going on ellie's brain anyway, that hate that eats her insides but pulls her in the weirdest way closer to you. nobody's paying attention to a stupid interaction on the corner of a frat house, nobody cares about who's disappearing tonight.

"are you going to follow me around like this the rest of the year?"

"i dunno," she replies with honesty — "you gonna let me catch you in the end?"

"i'm not in the mood tonight for riddles, ellie. i'm having a good time with my friends," its an understatement cause she knows her voice is an unwelcoming sound to you after the pocket knife accident, but your lips are too red and dipped in dry blood, so tempting to lick down to give a single fuck. "m'not kidding around."

"yeah? your friends are busy hooking up, you sure you’re with them?" it's true when you've been dancing with strangers the last half hour, flirting without your usual circle around, she's been looking—. "seems to me you were ditched baby, don't lie."

"fuck off." what did she expect anyway? a good response? "i'm here just to let you know i'm asking for a room transfer tomorrow. i should get a response in no longer than a week."

"shit. and you're doing all of that hungover?" she's teasing you, testing your patience with a grin ellie cannot seem to hide: the vampire's having fun with you. "you sure it's not too much? would hate you getting burnt out for trying, leech."

"why do you care so much about what i do huh?" the consequences of drinking too much blood wash over you, dizziness settling in your brain like a new victim of your loose tongue. "last time i checked you hated me."

you're trying so hard not to stumble. it's funny for a moment when you're pushed by a much bigger vampire and ellie worries for a second you're going to fall while fighting to make her feel some sort of intimidation.

"i do hate you," she does, but that doesn't forbid her body from wanting, an act so pure and automated as feeding or breathing "but i'm a good samaritan and shit."

her words make you chuckle, a laughter that fills the air and catches ellie with a low guard when she notices the curve of your lips turning upwards and the movement of your chest as it expands and constricts filling the air with a sound she haven't heard before, enough to make her own heart jolt in her chest.

"good samaritan?" you don't really fall for it: clever girl—. "do good samaritans want to kill vampires in their sleep?"

what are you trying to do? what kind of act you pulling? fucking flirt. she threatens to slit your throat and you're giggling at her random lies? pretending you don't really notice the way her eyes keep wandering to your tits? insane.

"do you want to leave, leech?" she's so impatient sometimes, can't keep her mouth shut even if she wishes so. ellie blames it on the abuse of blood even when she's not remotely touched by it, enough to cement her mistakes that night "to our dorm- i mean."

"your girl ditched you huh? cold and fast."

"shaw is not my girl" she corrects annoyed, yet you're too busy thinking about her words: ours. — "we just fuck sometimes."

"then tell me, is this some sort of excuse, roomie?" ellie doesn't want to mention it, doesn't want to think about the way you seemed to be fixated on her too during the night, cause how else would you know about her presence on the same party? about her fling leaving? "gonna kill me in a dirty alley on the way back to our place?"

ours. that fucking word again —"yes. walking with you is the excuse i was waiting for."

"perfect. i was looking for a memorable ending for tonight."

so when you finally lose complete balance ellie's already hooking her fingers in the waistband of your jeans to keep your feet on the ground and preventing a possible accident, allowing you to rest against her body as a moment searching for support: how are you so warm when everything in their species is so cold? where does it come from? your previous humanity?

it seems you forgot about the pocket knife incident in your neck, the razor's edge sharp and ready to sink in thick skin. that would be coherent when you're walking down the campus close to randomly, ellie williams. the cold air seems similar to a slap in the face as you're much composed now, starting to wonder even why the fuck you're leaving the party with her.

what do you crave now? care from someone who only declares anger? that drug-like feeling of the touch of her fingers more intense than anything you've felt in your immortality years? feel- that's the thing, the key.

"i don't understand your behavior" you state close to her, maybe abusing substances is your way of being brave, honest: ellie can't decide. if you're asking for a transfer tomorrow, what's the worst thing that can happen? would she actually be capable of killing you during the night? you have a feeling she'll leave you alone the rest of the week—. "i don't get this need of hating and then flirting."

"flirt?" ellie asks, her hand feels mellow against your skin as the vampire let her fingers slip beneath your shirt, an invitation she grants by herself as her digits close tighter in your waist as she's helping you walk since you two leave the party—. "well, i thought we were just a couple of enemies trying to stay civil. guess i misread the fucking room huh?"

"funny," it's easy to reply and start this back and forth banter, bark and never bite. "you sure? this wouldn't have anything to do with you staring at my tits at all?"

"i thought we were fucking with each other, isn't that what enemies do?" is it funny for her? maybe that's why ellie chuckles. a coping mechanism as it becomes much intimate now when the two of you arrive to the dorm building. silence when there's no one around and it's much interesting there than anywhere else. "it's hard to hate you when you're this close leech, distracting cleavage."

it's such a pleasant surprise to witness how you get nervous under her words, how your brows reveal that nice surprise in your face at the confirmation: yes, she is flirting with you, do you need a more forward affirmation?

so the air feels electric when ellie's opening the door of the small space you've been sharing with her the entire semester, the smell of home combined with desire and blood making your brain so foggy it's a hazard, more than possibly dangerous when she's looking at you like that, when you're an unraveling mystery under her curious eyes.

"can i ask you something without you pulling on that knife of yours?" now as the door is closed your words seem to get lost in the air for a moment, real confidence you exude when it seems you're not going to get randomly killed for wanting a rational explanation even in private — "you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"i'll think about it if you're quick."

it doesn't happen often, ellie's own brain betrays her to be kinder with you, nicer — "why do you keep crosses and holy water?"

"you sure you want to know the answer to that?" you nod like you've been offered a plate of food after a long journey, information you're tired of imagining — "i don't think you're going to believe me leech, borders on the mad-shit-crazy."

"what are you doing with it?" you wouldn't know when was the exact moment on which she corners you, but the back of your knee hits the couch and you end up sitting on it, trapped between the vampire legs and the comfortable cushions— "i don't think you're killing vampires with it. too much work to hide the bodies, and there haven't been any concerning missings lately."

you seemed to be getting to the point as ellie stayed silent, almost a joke when you don't need her help to find out the true motives of her crazy belongings as your eyes widen in new awe — "oh for fucking vlad. you are using this for sex?"

the lack of response gives you the chills: your roommate, the same vampire who's threats to slit your throat, is the very same one who craves the pain of holy water burning in her skin during pleasure, the marks of a cross red on the flesh when she cums.

interesting change.

"you were dead threatening me the other day- cause you simply like to indulge some pain when fucking?" you can't help but make fun of her, of the blush that spreads on her face down to her neck. sober now and like a damn stallion, you hook your fingers in the waistband of her pants now, pulling ellie with just enough force to make her fall on top of you. "can't you just be normal for once in your life and buy some strap? be into choking and blood like the rest of us?"

vulnerable. ellie williams is now vulnerable against the one person she hates the most, unable to stop her own actions when being seated on your lap feels so good it only ignites more hatred.

"pain is good," it's the only answer she can think of — "i'm not surprised you don't know it as you're a fucking rookie, but we as vampires heal hella quick."

you're going to whine about the sudden lack of weight pulling you down, her ass pushing awfully good against you before she's coming back again with the same artifacts you saw before: the small silver cross paired out with a poison-like container full of transparent water.

it makes you flinch at the sight, unconventional weapons designed to torture your kind.

"c'mere, sit on my lap it's easier" she pats her legs as you sit on top of her—"do you trust me?"

"no, i don't."

"good. give me your palm then," it's fucking crazy to admit how much she's enjoying this, how much she likes getting you like this— "and pray to the elders you're not losing your hand tonight."

you can tell it's a joke, but it never fails to leave you breathless when she treats you like that, cold words that promise only suffering as you give her your right hand. against her own, feels like radiation sweeping through her skin right through yours when ellie's carefully opening the bottle cap of the holy water, holding your hand tightly.

"go on. do it."

she hates you, but she looks at you waiting for a simple nod before pouring a single drop of water into your hand, consent. an interesting word that makes you gasp, wince instinctively as ellie holds your hand firmly, forbidding you to pull away or make any unwanted movement that would make the water fall off.

there's a sick moment in which you can feel the smell of skin burning alive under your nose, slowly absorbing in the middle of your hand as smoke comes out the wound. hurts. makes you whine audibly. where is the fucking pleasure of it?

you're missing it until your roommate's tongue comes in contact with your palm, licking the water it soothes the pain as your flesh begins to repair on it's own. turns you on as ellie's looking up to you, wishing to bite over that spot on your wrist she know she can draw blood from — you drank so much in the party, your roommate’s sure that if she bites she'll be able to feed from the blood that still lingers in your system as if you were human, blending it with a silvery vampire essence that’s purely yours.

it doesn't stop there anyway, it could never be possibly enough when ellie’s pouring another drip, two drips cause yeah-- she's sure you can take it. once again you flinch at the pain of the sudden contact of the holy water now in your collarbone, slowly making its way down to the valley of your chest.

it stings, burns in the most delicious way as it leaves a red trail behind, even when the burnt smell settles under your nose and ellie's eagerly letting her tongue follow the way down, thick and abundant saliva glistening under a skin that now heals again due to deadly abilities leaving no trace of a wound behind.

do you have a heart? is that it? did you turn human all of a sudden? cause you're sure your heart's beating in your chest loudly even when it don't exist, when ellie's mouth follow the path of holy water down to your tits, an innocent bite, wandering tongue — it's enough to make you biased, just a taste to make you wonder more about her masochist tendencies.

"next question," she suggests. not even close to you for a fucking kiss, yet somehow closer than she’s ever been when her fingers trace an invisible pattern in your thighs: "if i found your pretty pussy already wet and soaking for me, would you push my hand away... or would you grind against my fingers like a good vampire slut?"

raw, drops like a bomb and it couldn't be clearer as a sunny day: "i don’t know. why don’t you fuck around and find out?"

hates makes her different, rougher, less funny, constantly stiff, a stark contrast now to how need makes ellie pliant, considerate and desperate now that she's able to touch you properly, a sweet melody that scratches part of her brain and makes her weak, drunk on your charms.

does it make you a sadist? as you take the glass bottle from her fingers and a single drop falls against ellie's neck and you can feel her tensing down beneath you, do you get turned on because it hurts or her moans? your tongue does the same job as she did before, stinging when you swallow and the holy water travels down your throat like a reminder of her taste, of your sworn nemesis surrounding you entirely.

again. you need to do it again cause her reaction is too delicious to let it pass now, not turn it in a primal fight for control, a need for dominance cause ellie's fucking tired of feeling you against her damn belt and not her hands as she tries to unbuckle your jeans, and you on the other hand, are way too busy pulling on her white tank top upwards until your fingers reach her ribs to have more of her skin bare and exposed to you.

touch. you need to touch her more.

"nobody can know about this, okay?" 

can ellie fight the weight of your lust? she can barely resist her own under your hands, cast in a new kind of spell when her top finally rests on the floor and instead, she's received by a gust of affliction, fire on her skin that makes ellie's back arch away from the sofa to your mouth instead, delicious pain.

her skin heals, but the sensation of your tongue drinking the holy water takes her breath away as you wail in the agony of your throat already sore, forcing yourself to soothe the sensitive skin of your roommate with the warmth of your tongue.

"i understand it now," ellie's giving up the fight by now: do whatever you want. keep fucking burning her, keep helping her to take it with your thick and dense saliva coating her skin, lips red at the contact of the water already corroding your mouth — "this whole pain thing. it's nice you know? to see you squirm around, trembling 'cause it hurts and it turns you on."

she comes to the conclusion that she's neck-deep already, this weird connection between jealousy and desire who's devastating enough to let you kiss her, drown her in you. slow and invading your tongue pushes against her own and ellie's surrendering, lowering those walls of hate to let you collect every part of her system like a trophy, as if you weren't already all she thinks about lately.

burns against her tongue in a subtle, almost inexistent throb that only pushes her further, demanding for more when she licks into your mouth, hoping to make your saliva her own — consume you until there's nothing left.

drunk in the taste of your mouth ellie’s capable still of finally unbuckle your pants, sure she'll tear them apart with her knife still resting in the pocket of her jeans as her finger pull them down tired of the fabric forbidding her to roam around like she deserves: she has endured your presence the entire semester, didn't she deserve this? play with her pretty roommates pussy?

she does. a victory she need to claim when ellie's words slur together, a mix that only proves how needy she becomes with the seconds, how lust takes over her actions, dictating her movements as she tugs the waistband of your jeans down once again with a pleading look — "please-- take them off, they only get in the way..."

pathetic. she’s fucking degrading herself, sounding like a freshly-turned vampire who knows nothing about patience. it makes her blush when you stand in front of her for a handful of seconds: pull yourself together, how is that a pretty pair of panties hypnotizing her to the point of madness?

there you are. soaked, ready for her, inviting for her fingers to finally sink into your cunt.

her hands squeeze the round gloves of your ass when you're coming back to the secured spot in her lap, slowly making you move on top of her in a gentle back and forth that's too different from the fun you're having with her, the cruel desire. all is teasing in your fingers when the silver crucifix's tip scratches against ellie's torso, burning her chest in a path that lands later on her tummy, defined wound. the vampire stiffens when the cross burns deep in the flesh, an scream leaving her lips as her fangs come out in response.

"too much," ellie lets you know against your skin — "be gentle and not a fucking monkey. i know its too much to ask, but i encourage you to try."

even in your control she's eager when messing with you, testing your patience cause she's damn good at it, the best of the campus to fucking hate you and turn you on it seems, cause she can already feel the dampness your pussy leaves behind in her jeans as you're already humping her legs as if it's her cunt the one you're scissoring with.

"fuck you." there's no real offense when saying it, between erratic moans it makes the vampire laugh as she's leaving soft kisses on the curve of your neck, biting with no real pressure.

"well, i think that's what we're doing, isn't it?" 

"finally you're intelligent, huh? cheers to carmilla."

the thin line of hate blurs to an nonexistent line cause ellie can't think of nothing else but the way you hump against leg seeking for whatever relief she could offer, amazes her when you damn multitask to get rid of her sports bra, too busy to fight with it when you're barely making an effort to rip the fabric that shatters in your fingers like it's paper, brain too clouded to even say something about it: that bra costed damn human money.

it makes her skin tingle when your lavish tongue meets her stiff nipple, the meat of her breast moulding to your hands as you lightly squeeze the flesh. a breath of the pain before you're messing around again and the holy water burns its way down to your mouth, just right over her nipple to cause enough distraction to make her crash out.

"what the hell-" ellie gasps, closing her eyes shut — "are you a professional now in this field, rookie?"

you learn fast, clearly. you'd like to remind her that but you're too busy using her, getting off her clothed knee which rubs too good against your drenched cunt, wet enough to darken the fabric of her jeans at least two shades. composed, in control until ellie's fangs graze against your skin and you can feel her willingly breathing, filling her dead lungs with your scent that goes between sweat and the perfume you sprayed before leaving to the party and ellie felt all over the living room back to her bed before you left.

"you smell so much like blood" she manages to say, choking. hands gripping your waist like it's the only constant thing in her brain that’s able to keep her grounded — "a-class-fucking-blood huh? please don't be greedy and share a little- please."

it's messy when she says it, you need to stop any further painplay when she's grounding you faster against her leg, her fangs tearing through the skin of your neck to reach the vein under her teeth who ellie’s sure beats human-like in her mouth. red drops of blood slip past her mouth when she begins to suck, staining your chest and your tight shirt only to make you moan: the pain, the smell of blood and sex in the air, her fingers digging in your waist to the point her nails leave a mark.

there's no words to describe it. it's chaotic and ellie could downright cum just by that: jeans on, the holy water, the blood in your veins and your cunt soaking down her leg to the point she can feel you in the air — it's the perfect combination.

so she feeds from you like you're human, a source of fresh blood instead of a vampire just fed, slides her hand between your legs drunk on blood and gore, on the way her fangs tear your skin and makes you moan as she sucks further. her fingers slide under your underwear and it's a far more important need to get you there, destroy your barriers and have you peaking in her lap.

are you close? seems like you are when her digits push against your tight, fluttering-hole and you kind of forget about grinding. the moment your cunt engulfs her fingers, squeezing them in welcome.

"you gonna cum?" ellie’s voice's rougher now, thickened by the blood and need, the pleasure that gathers in her stomach and will give her the most intense orgasm on her fucking jeans — "talk to me."

ellie shows no mercy when she's fucking you with her fingers, you don't either when she's covered in crosses, in a daze of blood and burnt skin that even when it heals faster, makes her thrive under your bites and sweet tortures.

no you cannot answer, the undulating movements of your hips only help your roommate to discover that spot inside that drives you insane, that makes you move faster, in erratic thrusts to try and draw her closer, help her fingers sink in deeper. tight, ellie's sure you have a pulse when you squeeze her fingers tightly enough to make her moan, a damn heart. you're close- so fucking close, you cannot let her know seconds before.

fuck she should be so into this.

time for a vampire goes different, but now it reaches a whole different level when the world seems to stop for a minute, a tear in the universe that functions in your own rules as you finally cum, when ellie's cumming too in a loud whine and you can feel it crumbling down to pieces: what ego's now left after she creamed her pants like a fucking loser?

it's hard to be mean to you when she can feel how sticky it is between her legs, when at the slightest movement her underwear seems to cause the most delicious friction in her soaked folds.

"this is a one time thing," you try to say as you take your shirt off, dried blood in your skin like a new type of candy the vampire wishes to try, the new sight of your tits — your cunt too; warm, pliant and inviting, sucking ellie's fingers deeper like a way of inviting her further in, keep you nestled and full of her digits as she kisses your neck like she's already saying: yeah sure, whatever you say. "i mean it ells-"

the nickname makes her laugh for a moment: is it a reminder for you or is it directed to her? you're the one who's calling her ells anyway, never seen before.

"yeah? i know baby. open up," she’ll give you any reassurance you need when her fingers leave your used cunt to instead push insistently against your mouth, smearing your arousal in your lower lip as a permission to have you parting her lips for her, "that's it. you're such a good vampire when you shut the fuck up."

it defies nature itself. how are you so soft? how are you always at a different temperature? it makes her burn when you’re taking her fingers in your mouth, fangs coming out to playfully push against the skin of her hand as you let her draw them deeper, knuckles past your teeth as ellie's sure you can taste it; the savory essence of death and bliss your orgasm left behind.

what’s hers.

there's no need to rest when you're dropping to your knees, right between her parted legs ellie's fingers now plunges down your throat before your hands are freeing her from a life of pain, a slightly soaked belt you're unbuckling as a secret passage to paradise.

"i can smell your cum from here," you point out, making her feel suddenly shy at the plain evidence of her needs. "creamed all over your pants and all i did was suck your tits and let you use me as a vessel — are you sure you hate me?"

you're mocking her when the vampire’s shimmying out of her pants, not saying a word. what can she possibly say when you're right? when you reduced her to a mess? there's marks on her body you made, her knee’s still wet from your cum; your kisses burn like holy water on her lips, hell, she's not even sure herself of any hate.

"i- fuck, i tried not to cum i swear it." pathetic. all her threats, all this attitude she's been pulling out of her ass now goes to the fucking bin just because you're down on your knees, looking at her like she's the best human treat to a superior vampire — "you looked so good while i finger-fucked you... i couldn't help it."

you're pressing your lips against her inner thigh, and a shiver goes down ellie's spine when you know just exactly what she needs— "tell me you know this is a one-time thing, ellie."

"it is a one-time thing, rookie." loud and clear, she'd say anything to keep you going, even when you’re already intoxicated by the smell of her orgasm and the blood that runs through her veins as she recently fed from you.

good. you're gonna make her a feast, bite that vein close to her cunt, get dizzy on her taste-

one time thing.

"i still hate you" you reply between her legs, breathing heavily cause you want to make her smell part of you, her excitement an emotion you can pick up from: you need the reminder more than she does.

"wouldn't expect less from you," voice strained, ellie's fingers thread in your hair, pushing your face closer to where it's needed — "i hate you too."

lies. vampires are so full of shit sometimes, cause she doesn't hate you at all, just as you know deep down, that this act of devotion wasn't a one time thing only.

viva hate: isn't that what vampires say? when you despise someone so much their body speaks to you in a different tongue.

it turns out you’re ellie's favorite worst nightmare. and that’s enough to prevent you from looking for a new roommate the next day.

ellie williams hates you wholeheartedly. tangled in her arms the next morning on a dirty couch full of blood: wasn’t that just right?

[rkisbddzir]

──── KISS IT BETTER

──── WARNINGS ! 3 year age difference (but they are both in their 20’s), semi public sex , mention of blood , reader is flirtatious , mention of shooting , and riki is always pissed at reader for no reason at all.

──── he’s constantly thinking with his dick when it comes to his trainee

RIKI’S FOREHEAD WAS against the elevator wall, his expensive suit covered in blood. he had been through a lot these past few months, ever since he had taken one of the jobs to be an instructor.

“taking care of a trainee is easy” they said. “its an easy way to earn extra money” they all fucking said. at this point it didn’t even matter what stupid bullshit his coworkers spewed out their mouths, what mattered was the fact that he was dumb enough to listen to them.

maybe. just maybe. maybe it wasn’t their fault. of course every experience is different and he should’ve expected to end up with someone who he couldn’t stand to even have a simple conversation with. no, he couldn’t even do a single thing without hearing her seductive giggles or downright obnoxious comments and feeling her warm, soft, gentle and loving touch. he was basically watching some girl force herself onto him. riki practically dreaded her existence-

“you have blood all over you.” y/n comments, her voice lacking the normal sexual tone that it usually had which that snapped riki out his thoughts almost immediately.

he scoffs, sneering as he speaks, “yeah well, i wouldn’t have gotten blood all over me if someone didn’t have such shitty aim”

her eyes trail up and down him, and he can practically feel her eyes burning through him like a laser. “i was gonna say that its kinda sexy but okay, mr grumpy pants.”

“how is this even remotely sexy?” riki almost cries out incredulously. “i’m covered in some random humans blood! its gross, i want to take a shower or better yet just shoot myself so i don’t have to deal with you anymore.”

he knew his words were harsh, and somehow y/n finds a way to turn the conversation sexual.

“if your gonna take a shower can i… shower with you?” she asks in a seductive manner, her fingers running down his arm and her bottom lip being bitten between her teeth. “again…?”

this unfortunately wasn’t the first time that they had showered together, because somehow her advances worked on him from time to time. sometimes he ended up fucking her during a mission or just basically anywhere and anytime he felt like it.

riki felt guilty. not only because he felt like he was just plainly using her, but because it was completely unprofessional. he could get fired or better yet arrested for having sexual relations with someone he basically works with. he knows that, and he’s told her that. multiple times.

and he knew just as soon as she asked that, that he would give in. although, this time he decided to think without his dick for once and muttered out authoritatively, “no, that is completely unprofessional.”

to make sure she knew he was pissed off and not in the mood, he goes an extra mile and slaps her hand away.

ooh scary…

she wanted to punch his face sometimes, or preferably ride it. she wanted to ride him so slow he’d beg her to go fast. but she wouldn’t go fast infact she’d go slower on him. she wanted to hear him whine for her, whimpering, practically crying out for her.

except that would never happen because riki wasn’t exactly like that. if he wanted it, he’d make sure it happened and he wouldn’t stop until it did.

until it burns.

until she can’t walk.

until shes can’t speak anymore.

fuck, he could feel himself growing hard just thinking about it. riki was debating whether or not he should just take her right here in the elevator.

no, he needs to stop thinking with his dick and giving into her.

that didn’t really change the fact he was practically throbbing at the thought of being inside her. she was whining yet again, and riki didn’t want even to know what it was this time.

“it pisses me off that i cant even get dick from you all the time. every guy will give me that except the guy i want it from—” he didn’t even know what the hell she was saying but he wanted her to shut up so he just cut her off, his voice boiling with anger, “yeah well maybe that guy doesn’t want any of that from you. maybe he thinks you’re an annoying, stubborn, hormonal little bitch.”

“maybe he hates you.” he adds after a few seconds of silence.

oh god… this thing is opening its mouth again…he thinks to himself as y/n begins to find another way to spew nonsense through her venom filled mouth. just when she finally gets her words out the elevator doors finally open to his sweet escape.

he practically bolting out as soon as the elevator doors open, and he’s in relief, feeling as if he should win an award for putting up with her trashy behaviour.

that moment of joy is gone once he hears her little high heels tapping behind him. his face that just a second ago had a bright victorious smile, was now sporting a frown that only one could describe as disgust. he keeps moving ahead anyway, faster even.

he begins to start forcing himself to think about some unsexy things such as geopolitical issues, what shade of white the walls could be, or the obscene amount of paperwork he’d be pushing through later, maybe he might treat himself to some champagne after work — a gift he rewards himself with when he gets through yet another day with you.

he was almost there, almost to his office where hopefully he’ll have the luxury of being able to slam the door in y/n’s pretty little face which might even get her to shut her stupid mouth. the same one that does wonders for him under his desk during long boring calls.

shit. he stops in his tracks causing y/n to collide into his backside. which did even more amazing things for the problem in his pants. riki turns to her straightening his tie and clearing his throat, trying to keep up his little cold facade as if he doesn’t jerk off to her messages at night when he’s bored. “you’re real clumsy, y’know”

“yeah and i bet you’re real horny right now.” she sputters out in a mocking and accusing tone.

of course she’s gonna say something heavily perverse to riki. “i am absolutely not at all feeling anything like that.” which he himself knows is a lie he hissed straight through his teeth and right at her face.

files falling, desk shaking, and a few items on his desk have been knocked off. her moans choked back and her body shaking with need and pleasure. “hah mghh riki oh fuck dont stop” she cries out, his hips driving into her so hard that she’s being pushed farther up the desk.

riki’s jaw was clenched and he for one, was extremely self conscious of whoever could be right outside that door hearing him absolutely destroy y/n on his desk. “shit, oh you’re way too loud…”

his voice slightly wavers into a whine at the end as he shifts the posture of her body, bringing her lower back a bit higher, taking her leg up to his shoulder. riki can’t help but let out a groan as she’s even tighter now.

though he was trying his hardest to keep the rhythm steady, his hips seemed to disobey him and stutter against her hips mid thrust. “f-fuck!”

rikis face was twisted in pleasure but slightly also showing a hint of concern. concerned about how much paperwork he was going to have to do if anyone found out about this affair, about how many rules they’ve broken in a day alone and about how good she makes him feel.

y/ns body falls backwards onto the desk, her head hanging over the edge. “right there a-ah fuck, i can’t stop oh fuckk.”

all he could think was oh god, this angle and a strained groan makes its way past his lips, his hand going down to balance himself on the desk. “can you- fuck you’re so tight right there- can you calm the fuck down for like a minute?”

she shook her head desperately, “ngh fuck just shut up and fuck me harder!”

riki lets out a moan of annoyance, but instead of snapping at her, he shifts his hands to the side of her thighs and brings her legs to her chest before fucking into her at a brutal and harsh pace, hitting a spot that just so happens to make her even more louder.

“ah! shit! o-oh right there ri-riki!” y/n whimpers out and just like that he can feel himself practically throbbing into her.

he hisses in a mocking tone, “shit right-right there? fuck, what happened to that snappy attitude? did i fuck it out of you?” his body shifts slightly, hitting the exact spot that was making her stupid. “sh-shit, you’re tight” he groans out.

y/n didn’t even need to tell him. he just knew by the way her pussy clenched, the way her eyes looked fucked out, and the way she was arching into him. he knew she was close. riki’s annoyance got the best of him and he decided to overstimulate y/n, his fingers reaching down to rub her clit.

the sound she cried out just then made him even closer and he fucked her harder. so hard the desk was moving and creaking and made him let out some filthy noises that were completely unlike him.

that slick fucked out pussy of hers convulsed like it was begging for him to make more of those nasty almost submissive noises and holy shit she was really fucking tight, practically closing in on him.

her eyes rolled back as she was tripping over the edge of her release and he made the effort to cover her mouth, knowing how loud she gets at that point. he kept his pace as he muttered “shut the fuck up, you better not scream.”

his words were almost taunting as his fingers rubbed faster and spread her legs farther apart, moving up to get a better angle as he rolled into her at an animalistic pace.

it was too much for him that he couldn’t even let out anything but painful sounding grunts. he was absolutely humping into her aching swollen pussy.

moans and praises fell from her pretty little mouth and y/n couldn’t stop herself as her legs tightened around him, her white hot proof of pleasure exploding onto his lower body. it didn’t stop him from going even harder though which just brought more of her release out her and he could feel his dick covered in your fluids.

he rode out his orgasm just right after her practically using her body as his personal fuck toy and rearranging her insides.

and right after his thrusts get slower and slower until he gets tired, eyes dark and exhausted, his breathing heavy and his lips parted right onto her neck letting out hot puffs of air. “you do not say a word to anyone about whatever this is, you understand me?”

[billspaid]

Been craving a melfrank college au where Mel gets dragged to a frat party by her roommate and she notoriously hates parties but she also wants a good college experience so she goes and she’s fine, she’s having an alright time watching her roommate dancing with some guy in the middle of the living room.

And then BANG - she sees and hears some guy drop from the top of the stairs straight onto the floor just a few meters from where she’s standing.

The other frat bros start freaking out, asking for a doctor and because the universe hates her, her roommate shouts out for Mel like “Mel! Mel! My roommate! She’s premed, practically a doctor!”

And Mel’s dragged in the middle where this stupid albeit cute feat guy is laying on the floor, blinking quickly as he looks side to side. Mel has done a few courses here and there and with her lifeguard training she thinks she could probably help but she instructs one of the other frat boys to call an ambulance anyway.

She checks his - Frank’s - pupils and asks him if he’s sore and or feeling any numbness. He manages to sit up, just holding the back of his head. Most likely a concussion and Mel says as much. Frank’s not really with it, or if he is he’s not really paying attention to Mel until she leans in forward to check his eyes again. And then he gives her a funny sort of smile.

The ambulance comes and Mel tells the paramedics what happened, watching as they wheel Frank onto the gurney. She distantly thinks how this is going to be the first and last frat party she ever goes to.

And she’s ready to leave, truly, but then Frank is calling out for her - well, he’s calling out for the ‘Cute blonde doctor! Cute blonde doctor, please you have to come with me! I’m scared, I don’t like hospital, please beautiful blonde doctor with the cute mole and glasses, I need you!”

And Mel rushes into the ambulance to shut him up because now everyone at the party is staring at her. He’s obviously a bit tipsy, mumbling something about how stupid he is. Mel watches with a grimace. He grabs her hand and squeezes tight whenever they go over a pothole.

Mel’s still not sure why she’s still with him or what help she is considering that she’s not even a doctor (yet) but the ER doctors take a look at him and confirm that he most likely has a concussion. They then say “we’ll do a head ct but there’s a wait so make sure you boyfriend doesn’t fall asleep.”

Mel sighs and nods because what the hell, no point in trying to explain to the random doctor that she just about barely knows his first name.

Frank slowly starts to sober up and then he’s looking at Mel with an expression she can’t understand.

“You never corrected the doctor.” He says like he’s biting back a smile.

Mel looks back, incredulously and decides to ignore him. “That was a very stupid thing to do.”

“It was an accident. I was trying to grab an empty beer bottle before it fell on someone but I ended up slipping myself.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Mel narrows her eyes. “You didn’t ask a question.”

Frank smiles and Mel has to stop herself from mirroring it. “So, what’s a doctor doing at a frat party?”

“I’m pre-med. I don’t think my roommate realises the difference.”

Frank stares at her and then clicks his fingers. “McKinley’s Thursday lecture! That’s where I know you!”

Mel cocks her head back. “You’re in pre-med?”

“Going to UPenn in the fall.”

She blinks and sort of shrinks in on herself. “Me too.”

Frank looks absolutely elated.

“Wait,” Mel shakes her head, “how can you be scared of hospitals if you’re going to med school?”

“I’m not, I just wanted you to come with me.”

Mel flushes. “Why?”

“Was me screaming ‘cute blonde doctor’ not enough of a clue?” He smirks and Mel does everything in her power not to cower under his gaze. “Besides, I’ve seen you in class.”

“I’ve never noticed you.” She says, quietly.

“I sit in the back mostly. You’re always asking questions, like really interesting ones. You’re gonna be a great doctor, Mel.”

Mel rolls her eyes, “yeah okay.”

Frank drops his head to the pillow and tilts his head to look her dreamily. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“You have a concussion.”

“Okay so you’re great at asking questions, not great at answering them. Got it.” He says and then nods his head sharply like he’s actually noting it down in his mind.

“Frank, you should take it easy for the next few days.” She says instead of what she really wants to. His eyes are really blue. Why hasn’t she noticed him before? She really needs to look up from her laptop.

“Okay fine. But we’re going to get out of here eventually and I’m guessing that you’re a good person who will stay with me until they discharge me because you’re still here even though it’s 3am and you’re still holding my hand.”

Mel looks down, not realising and immediately tries to pull away. Frank pulls on her hand gently and interlocks their fingers anyway. Mel lets him.

“Do you want to get breakfast later? There’s a 24 hour diner not far from here.”

Mel chews on her lip. “Erm…”

“You can say no-“

“No it’s not…erm, it’s just, okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” She says with a little bit more conviction.

Frank holds his fist up and whispers “let’s go!” Which reminds Mel that he is still a frat buy but the thought amuses her more than anything.

Soon one of the nurses come back to take him up for a CT scan and Frank asks if the cute blonde med student can come with.

The nurse looks back to Mel and says “your girlfriend? Yeah, sure.”

They’re in the lift when he shifts closer and says “you didn’t correct her either.”

And Mel shrugs a little, “yeah well neither did you.”

[lacedbykami]

˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—𝐇𝐐 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐂𝐒! - multi!

⋆𖦹⋆ˎˊ˗ synopsis: what its like dating them, hcs, etc <3 [♡] including: suna, bokuto, suga, oikawa, kenma; cute hcs, might make some parts to this

SUNA RINTARO.

╰┈➤ what its like dating him- slow makeout sessions in the dark, sharing playlist while talking shit about weirdos at school, going down random fight pages tg, falling asleep on each other, the faint smell of cologne and fresh laundry, random love bites.

ᰔ alot of people seem to think he's the stoner, non-chalant, distant type. Suna rintarou? not in the slighest. not with you. He sends you random brainrot memes at 3 am, spams your phone when you don't respond in 0.1 seconds and gives you the cold shoulder when yall can't sleep call

ᰔ doesn't really mind pda, he's just really chill about it. Whether its resting his chin ontop of your head, holding your hand, you resting your head on his shoulder, kissing you. Suna doesn't make a big deal out of it, if someone sees they see. (His heart beats fast in his chest when you kiss him suddenly <3)

BOKUTO KOTARO.

╰┈➤ what its like dating him — random ' i love you's,' princess hugs, kisses littered all over your skin, matching phone cases, movie nights with him falling asleep first, running out in the rain, cheering him on at his games, being carried on his shoulders soon after <3

ᰔ always texts you goodmorning as soon as he wakes up; like no I don't mean oh lemme drink some water and get up, no. This man, that can barely even see his screen will text you "GOODMORNING PRETTY BABY.' at 5am before falling back asleep.

ᰔ very emotionally mature actually; bokuto isn't stupid by any means. He pays close attention to your expressions and how you move, so before you even get properly upset he's already asking whats wrong before you go quiet. And he never tries to fix you or help you right away, he knows you'd ask. So he simply pulls you into his arms and whispers sweet words into your skin as he waits until youre ready to talk.

SUGAWARA KOUSHI.

╰┈➤ what its like dating him — late night calls filled with giggling and deep conversations, warm hoodies he "leaves" at your place on accident, cheek kisses everytime he has to leave, dates at the park on nice days, your first kiss under the stars, princess treatment

ᰔ never lets you open a car door: Suga will actually jog around the car just to open it for you first. Doesn’t matter if it's raining, snowing, or if you're in a rush — he gets genuinely offended if you try to do it yourself. “Excuse me,” he’ll pout, “I thought I was your boyfriend.” And yes, he does the hand-on-your-lower-back assist when you sit down like it’s second nature.

ᰔ He’s the kind of boyfriend who smiles like you hung the stars just for existing: Calls you nicknames like sweetheart, baby, and sometimes when he’s sleepy or extra soft, my love.

OIKAWA TOORU.

╰┈➤ what it's like dating him — endless selfies (with you in every single one), coffee shop dates where he insists on ordering for you with a smirk, forehead kisses before games, wearing his team jacket that's definitely too big for you, dramatic love letters left in your locker or slipped under your door, dressing you up and posting you on his instagram

ᰔ Treats you like royalty and wants everyone to know you’re his: Expect hand-holding 24/7, even in public, even in summer. He’s constantly fixing your hair or tucking it behind your ear, just to have an excuse to touch you. “You're so pretty, y’know that? I’m gonna have to fight people off again today.”

ᰔ He’s the kind of boyfriend who gets jealous of your dog: Will pout if you give the dog more kisses than him. “I’m cuter, right? Right?” But also, he’ll take 800 photos of you cuddling your pet and use them as his lockscreen.

KENMA KOZUME.

╰┈➤ what it’s like dating him — building a world together in animal crossing, lazy mornings tangled in blankets and soft touches, sharing a single pair of earbuds on the train, him letting you rest your legs over his lap while he games, forehead kisses when he's too shy for words, ganging up on annoying kids in roblox

ᰔ does little things for you: Adds a player two charm to his switch just for you. Buys you little things that remind him of you, even if he doesn't say it out loud. Texts you “eat something” or “get some rest” because he’s thinking about you nonstop, even if he’s too shy to say I miss you.

ᰔ purs when you play with his hair/scratch his head: It starts as a quiet hum, almost imperceptible — but the second your fingers slide into his hair and scratch gently at his scalp, Kenma practically melts. His eyes flutter shut, body going limp against you like a sleepy cat. You’ll hear the tiniest, most content sigh escape him, and if you listen closely, a low, pleased hum in the back of his throat.

If he’s laying on your chest, he’ll nuzzle in closer and mumble something like, “Don’t stop… that feels really nice.”

And if you tease him for it?

His cheeks go pink instantly. “I don’t purr,” he grumbles — but the moment your fingers go back to work, that little sound comes right back. Every time.

[barksbog]

people who are reblogging this complaining about random dogs they meet not being trained enough are missing the point

some behaviours that might seem extremely easy like not jumping up or staying in a sit or down can be extremely hard to train in dogs with a low arousal threshold

the issue often isn't that the dog hasn't learned the concept but that it is too excited/scared/anxious to perform what is asked

it's a bit like. imagine you are a kid sitting in front of a pile of presents vibrating or you're standing there facing what you assume is going to be your murderer. you are experiencing extreme emotions. if i suddenly started asking you math problems you would probably fail, even if usually you could answer them easily.

the other issue are dogs that either through breed type (think livestock guardians, independent hunting dogs like podencos, ect.) or lack of interest in the reward just do not care about listening to cues. unlike some trainers will claim this is not an issue of "dominance" or "disrespect" it's someone asking you to work for inadequate payment or perform work you don't see the point of.

some dogs just have "learning difficulties" and all their owner/trainer can do is manage the behaviour and be patient with them. All i'm asking here is to give people and their dogs the benefit of the doubt and be patient with the people around you.

man it´s so easy to talk shit about how other people "don´t train their dogs" if you never worked with a hard to train dog

[cherryyserenade]

ur hee bf head canons were so cute 🫶 could u do a hoon version?

*ೃ༄ boyfriend enha headcannons ft. sunghoon

a/n: this ask was so sweet omg thank you :) i had so much fun writing this version so i hope you like how it turned out <3

pairing: 박성훈 x fem!reader ᨳw: mentions of jealousy, dry texting, teasing, simply just fluff

sunghoon is the type of boyfriend to...

01. …act like he’s annoyed when you cling to him in public, but never move away.

he’ll be like “ugh, why are you like this,” while literally adjusting his arm so it wraps around you better. his face is straight but his ears are bright pink. if anyone teases him about it, he’ll just say “she’s cold.” you’re not. he just likes having you close.

02. …refuses to share his stuff with the members but hands you his hoodie like it’s nothing.

jay once asked to borrow it and got a straight up “no.” you yawn once and he’s already taking the hoodie off the hanger. he’ll drape it over your shoulders all dramatic and then act like he didn’t just give you his favorite hoodie of all time. you’re the exception, always.

03. …makes fun of your music taste and then secretly adds all your favorite songs to his playlist.

he’ll say that it “doesn’t even match the vibe” while still letting it play. then two days later you catch your comfort song sitting in his “late night skate” playlist. don’t ask questions. just know he listens to it when he misses you.

04. …looks like he’s not listening when you talk, but remember every little thing.

you’ll mention craving strawberry milk one time, just randomly, and the next time you see him, he’s handing you one like it��s nothing. doesn’t even say a word. just gives it to you and keeps walking, because of course he remembered. and right before he turns away, he leans in and kisses your cheek like it’s just routine.

05. …let’s you put rings or hair clips or stickers on him and pretends he doesn’t care.

but the second you leave, he looks at them in awe for a weirdly long time. one time you stuck a pink bunny sticker on his phone case and he never took it off. when someone pointed it out, he said “oh i didn’t notice.” he definitely did.

06. …be brutally honest about everything except how much he loves you.

he’ll roast your outfit, your movie taste, even your sneeze — but the minute someone else teases you? oh this man turns into your personal defense lawyer. “shut up, she’s literally perfect.” and he says it so casually, like it’s just a fact.

07. …sees you across the room and tilts his head with that slow, lazy smile like he’s already yours.

he won’t wave. won’t call your name. just that look. that quiet smirk like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. like he’s not even surprised you caught him staring. he’s been staring.

08. …fake complains whenever you lie on top of him, but won’t let you move.

he’ll be like “can’t. breathe.” and act like you’re crushing him even though he literally pulled you into his lap in the first place. he’ll rest his chin on your head and scroll on his phone like it’s the most normal thing in the world. this is his happy place.

09. …sends dry, low effort texts like “ok” and “lol” but lights up the second he sees you.

he’s not the best at texting, just short replies, random memes, and the occasional “you up?”but in person? oh he’s all warmth. smiling before you even say hi, pulling you into a hug that lasts a little too long, like he’s been waiting all day. sometimes he brings you your favorite drink without saying a word. he’s just better at showing he cares when you’re standing right in front of him.

10. …secretly takes videos of you just doing random things because he thinks you look cute.

he literally has a camera roll full of you tying your shoes, yawning, even downing a energy drink like it’s a wildlife documentary. and he’ll never admit it. you’ll just find them by accident one day and he’ll get all flustered and go “don’t look at those.”

11. …gets jealous in the pettiest, quietest ways.

he won’t really say anything, but you’ll notice he gets real focused on his phone the second someone else makes you laugh. when you ask what’s up, he shrugs and says “nothing”, but then he’s suddenly sitting closer, casually reaching for your hand and resting his on your thigh like it’s no big deal. he’s not mad, just reminding you where your attention should be.

12. …does everything to keep up his cool guy idol image but completely melts when you call him pretty.

he’ll have his arms crossed, sunglasses on, trying to act all unbothered — but the second you say, “hoon you look so pretty today” with that smile on your face, he’s hiding his face behind his hand and trying not to smile. he’ll mumble something like “don’t say that” but you can literally see him glowing. he loves it. especially when it’s from you.

a/n: i LOVED writing this one actually. if there's a specific member you wanna see next, drop it in my inbox i am very easily influenced (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

[purploozi]

Three-Months Rule | Choi Seung Cheol

Pairing: Bf!Seungcheol X Reader

Genre: fluff with a bit of angst

Warning: mention of toxic past relationships, hurt but comfort right after it, petnames (babe, love)

Summary: Healing from old wounds takes time—and Seungcheol is willing to wait. But when love feels too good to be true, do you trust it…or run? W.Count: 1.187

You couldn’t be happier. Choi Seungcheol was the man. The way he treats you—gentle, attentive, thoughtful—it makes your heart feel full in ways it never did before. You catch yourself gushing about him more often than you realise…replaying the sweet things he says and does, the way he brushes your hair behind your ear and the look he gives you when he thinks you’re not watching. But the bubble popped the moment your friend casually asks “How long have you two been dating?”

And that’s when it hits you. Three months—it only has been three months. A chill creeps up your spine, draining all the warmth in your body. You swallow hard, fidgeting with the straw in your iced coffee as you try to laugh it off, but in your mind the clock started ticking. The infamous three-month mark. The breaking point. The test.

You excuse yourself from your friend, toss a bill on the table and walk out. The sunlight feels colder now. A familiar tightness coils in your chest as the ghosts of old relationships trail behind you—cheating, manipulation, control. You tell yourself Seungcheol is different. He’s never given you a reason to doubt him. But neither did the others—at first.

“She’s just a friend” he said, and you forgave him. Again and again…until forgiveness became a routine. “Stop being so paranoid!” he screamed before storming out. A few days after you found the texts, the lies.

His apartment door opens with a soft click and, without even thinking, you check the shoes at the entrance. Only his are there—and a few of yours that you sometimes leave there. No strange sneakers. No random heels. Your shoulders relax unconsciously as you step in. But then you see it, a lipstick on the coffee table. One that is not yours.

Did he buy it? Or did another woman leave it there?

“You’re being dramatic! My sister probably left it” but he didn’t have a sister. You cried with someone else’s earring on your hand as your ex just laughed it off.

You’ve seen this movie before. You know the twist. As your mind sinked in a spiral of memories the bathroom door clicks open and Seungcheol steps out, shirtless, towel slung low around his hips, hair damp, muscles flexing as he dries it. He looks like sin—and maybe he is.

“Babe…why didn’t you call me? I could’ve picked you up” Your heart tightens. Is he being controlling? Or just considerate? You point at the lipstick and your voice comes out sharper than you intended. “What is that, Seungcheol?”

He pauses mid step and looks between you and the table. “It was supposed to be a surprise…I remember you said you liked that one, so I got it for you.”

You remember showing him that lipstick in a store once, joking about how it was too expensive. But more than a gift it looks like some kind of trap now, is he trying to distract you? Your eyes narrow. “Don’t lie to me. It won’t work.” His expression changes, not defensive or angry…just, hurt. He was about to speak but you did before him, the memory of your past was pushing you to react. “Some girl left it, didn’t she? I thought you were different.”

He walks over slowly, careful, calm but firm. “Love, look at it. It’s sealed. Brand new. I bought it for you with the flowers…”

“Flowers?” And then you see them. Right next to the lipstick, a bouquet…still wrapped. Your breath stutters in your throat as shame floods your chest. You swallow hard. “I…I didn’t see them. I’m sorry. I just thought…”

“It’s okay” he cuts you softly with a gentle smile. “I understand the confusion. It does look weird…next time I’ll prepare your gifts better.” He kisses your forehead, but the guilt lingers inside of you.

He’s the kindest man you’ve dated. He explains things instead of exploding. He’s patient even when you accuse him. And what do you do in return? You doubt him. You tell yourself to relax, to let love feel safe for once—but even if you repeat it in your mind like a mantra, the seed is planted. As the days pass by the incidents like this keep repeating.

He’s driving now. One hand on the wheel, the other resting on your knee.

“You’ve been quiet, is something wrong?” he says gently, not even an ounce of accusation on his voice. You hold up a hair tie, one that you didn’t leave there.

“What is this?” he glances over quickly and then back to the road. “An extra. I keep it in the car in case you forget yours” You scoff and toss the hair tie towards the glovebox as if it were poisonous. You move your leg away, his hand falling off your knee.

“Babe…” his voice stays soft, calm. “You always forget them, and you get irritated when your hair falls in your face. You said it ruins your whole mood.” You stay quiet, because he is right, you did say that.

“You are just forgetful” and you are but that doesn't mean you are stupid. He had two girlfriends, you found out months later.

Your chest aches. You want to believe him, to trust again and give this love a fair chance…but the past has claws and it digs deeper every day.

You pretend to sleep for the rest of the ride, arms crossed and curled against the window. You feel his gaze in you but you don’t want to face him now, not because you are mad, but because you are scared. What if you are not able to love without waiting for the catch?

Later, you are sitting on his couch with one of his hoodies shielding you from the old shadows behind you. He gently sits by your side and his hand lays on your leg, it was strange but that gesture feels grounding. “You want to talk about it?”

You exhale slowly and shift to face him. You don’t want to talk about it, but there’s no sense in delaying the inevitable, right? If this is going to end better do it quickly. “Just…please tell me truth” Your voice is low, vulnerable.

“The truth is that I love you,” he said without wasting a second, no doubt in his voice “and because of that I want to understand. Why do you think I’m hiding things?”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop the tears forming at the corner of your eyes. He keeps breaking all your fears with his steady demeanor, with his kind words and gentle way to treat you—and when you open your scars to him, he doesn’t scare away but instead he hugs you tightly.

“For now…could you trust me enough to let me try? Let me show you that love can be safe” he says and you melt into his embrace, he doesn’t rush the moment and he doesn't make promises either. He only asks you for a chance, for the trust you can give him now and no more. You want to try, because you feel that you don’t have to carry the weight of the past all alone, not anymore, not with Seungcheol by your side.

This was a request from anon. A small message for anyone who needs it: you don’t have to stay in something that hurts. Please keep yourself safe. You deserve love that feels like peace~💜

[ellclarkey]

Room For One More?(Requested)

Willne fluff and Smut.

Warning:Unprotected sex,cursing,Dom!will.

I somehow sneak an Arthur hill song in my fics every time..

You’ve been a YouTuber for years now long enough to build a solid brand, gain a loyal audience, and hire a full team a manager, editor, even a cameraman who’s there for everything. The whole shebang really. Your life has been a mix of travel, chaotic vlogs, and burnout breaks that never last long enough.

Recently, you made the jump to London. Big move, big city, big potential. You’ve cycled through three living situations in the past few months flatshares with random people, alone and one place that was nice but none of them felt like home.

Your career, however, was thriving. You finally secured a cozy office space to film, edit, and meet with your team a fresh start for your creative process. The place was everything you’d needed. And everyone in the building was also a Youtuber. The guy across the hall especially he was always there.

He wasn’t too loud, he’d always make videos with his friends and they’d always be in the office for hours. So naturally you’d cross paths often,quick hellos, awkward elevator silences, and a few shared complaints about the printer.

Then, one day, it happened. Over a takeaway iced coffee and a printer jam you both tried to fix for twenty minutes, he mentioned he had a spare room in his apartment. He knew you were looking.

“Flatmate just moved out. If you’re still looking.”

It was casual. Almost too casual. You hesitated for half a second before agreeing. You were tired of searching, tired of cold flats and stranger roommates. At least you’d already semi known this guy and hey, the commute would be unbeatable.

“Yea i’ll give it a shot.” You say trying to hide the excitement.

Three weeks and far too many overpriced hotel rooms later, you were finally moving in.

Dragging your suitcase through the front door, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The flat was surprisingly nice. Warm toned wood floors, big windows that let in actual daylight , and a faint scent of coffee and whatever cologne he wore lingering in the air.

You stepped further in, taking it all in the plants on the windowsill, the random mix of mugs stacked beside the kettle, the soft hum of a pc still running in his room down the hall.

“Front door sticks a bit, just gotta kick it,” a voice called from the kitchen.

There he was hair messy, pants low, already holding out a spare house key like he’d done this a hundred times before. Like this was no big deal. Like your entire life wasn’t about to change.

“Welcome home,” he added casually, with that crooked little smirk you were already suspicious of.

You tried to play it cool. “Hope you don’t snore.”

“Wait til i’m drunk.” He grinned. You dropped your bags by the door with a soft thud and gave the place a slow spin. It wasn’t huge, but it had personality messy but livedd in, like someone who cared just enough. A blanket half folded on the sofa, open packages from Amazon on the table, a dog faced mug(🪦) filled with what looked like three day old tea.

“This is nicer than I pictured,” you said, still scanning the room.

“What, did you think I lived in a cave?” he called back.

You shrugged. “Kinda. Figured it’d be all led lights and g fuel.”

He popped his head around the corner, a spoon in his mouth, eyebrows raised. “I’m a youtuber not a streamer dear.”

You laughed, slipping off your shoes. “I’m just saying. My expectations were low. Pleasantly surprised.”

The night came upon you quicker than expected the sky turning navy blue before you even realized the sun had set.

It was nice, though. Peaceful.

You were sat in your new bed, legs tucked under a soft throw blanket, laptop open but untouched. Boxes still half packed sat in the corner, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. For the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like you were in transit. No suitcase leaning by the door, no check out time hanging over your head.

Your new room was small but cozy. The walls were blank for now, but the warm lamplight made the space feel lived in. You’d lit a candle you found at the bottom of one of your bags it qas most likely a leftover prop from a past sponsor.

You scrolled aimlessly through emails and half typed video ideas, but your focus kept drifting. Somewhere down the hall, you could hear him shuffling around on his chair.

You leaned your head back against the wall and let your eyes close for a moment. This wasn’t what you expected when you moved to London. Living with another YouTuber sounded like a recipe for disaster or a cancellation, but tonight? It just felt easy the easiest it ever felt.

The floor creaked faintly, and a soft knock followed.

“You still awake?” he asked through the door.

You opened one eye. “Barely.”

The door pushed open a crack. “Wanna watch something? I’ve got snacks.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Snacks as in actual snacks? Or a single half eaten bag of popcorn you’ve had since January?”

He grinned. “Both.”

And just like that, your first night in the flat stretched onto the sofa. Mismatched blankets on each of your bodies, and casual jokes that felt a little warmer than they probably should’ve. the glow of the tv across both your faces. You weren’t really watching, not anymore. The snacks sat untouched between you, long forgotten. At some point, you’d started leaning into him more just enough to feel his arm brush yours every time he shifted. And he’d stopped shifting away.

Your legs were tucked beneath you, his thigh warm against the side of yours. Every inch between you was charged, every small glance lingering just a bit too long. You weren’t even pretending to pay attention anymore. You could feel him watching you from the side. The kind of look that burned slow and deep.

“You cold?” he asked, low and casual, but his tone had changed.

You whispered. “A little.”

He moved slowly, lifting his arm. An unspoken invitation. You didn’t hesitate. You slid closer, settling beneath his arm, tucked against his side, your head resting lightly on his chest. His hand found your hip almost instinctively.

it should’ve felt awkward. It didn’t.

His fingers started tracing idle circles through the fabric of your top, just beneath the hem where it had ridden up slightly. Warm and steady. Your breath caught just enough for him to notice.

“You alright?” he asked, still in that low voice. A tease.

“Mhm.” You said tense.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie. You could feel his heart beating faint, but there. He was so needy and you could feel that.

You turned your face slightly to glance up at him, and that was all it took.

His lips were on yours before you could think. No hesitation. No teasing buildup this time just the sudden heat of his mouth, soft and wanting, and the sound of your breath catching as you leaned into him.

The kiss deepened fast ungry, like you’d both been holding back. His hand slipped up under your shirt, fingers brushing over bare skin now, slow and deliberate. Your knee shifted over his thigh, straddling him without thinking. He groaned against your mouth, low and rough, gripping your waist tighter as you settled into his lap.

“Didn’t think this would happen night one,” he murmured against your lips, eyes dark.

You grinned, breathless. “Why not?”

He kissed you again, harder this time. “Cause usualy i’m a gentleman.” He smirked

You just gave an unbelieving nod back.

Your shirt was half off now, his hoodie pushed back from your shoulders, your skin burning under his touch. You rocked forward, hips brushing his just enough to make him curse under his breath. His hands moved down, gripping your thighs, your ass, pulling you closer with a kind of urgency that made your head spin.

The tv kept playing in the background, but neither of you heard it anymore.

This wasn’t just tension it was weeks of bad sleep, work meetups, long glances, and loneliness finally colliding in the soft light of your new flat. And the best part? It was with him.

Your breath hitched as his mouth dropped to your neck, lips dragging along your skin, slow and warm and confident. He kissed just beneath your jaw, then lower, his stubble brushing against you in a way that made your thighs tense around his.

“You feel so good,” he muttered into your skin, his voice low, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Your fingers gripped at the fabric of his shirt, tugging it up over his stomach. He leaned back just enough for you to pull it over his head, tossing it to the floor without a second thought. You’d seen him in thumbnails and behind cameras a hundred times, but like this flushed, hair messy, lips kiss swollen and looking at you needy it was different, hotter and so real.

Your hips rolled forward again, slow but deliberate, and his breath caught. He tightened his grip on your waist, head tipping back against the couch for a second like he needed to get it together.

“Fuck,” he muttered, blinking up at you. “You’re killing me.”

You smiled, slow and teasing. “Not my fault you made the first move.”

His eyes flashed. “Right. So this is on me?”

And then he grabbed you again firm and fast pulling you flush against him, his hands splayed over your back. His mouth was on yours before you could answer, deeper this time, tongues brushing, teeth grazing, messy in the best way. Your body melted into his, your moan slipping between the kisses as one of his hands slid down, under the waistband of your shorts, fingers curving over your ass and squeezing like he’d been thinking about doing that since the second you decided to move in.

Maybe he had.

You ground against him instinctively, your bodies moving in sync now, rhythm building. It was all heat and tension and the way his hands couldn’t decide where to stay your waist, your thighs, your hips, your neck like he wanted all of you at once.

“Bed?” he suggested , breath ragged against your lips.

You nodded wordlessly, pulse thrumming in your throat.

He stood with you still wrapped around him, your legs clinging to his waist, and carried you down the hall like it was the easiest thing in the world. The flat was silent except for your breathing, and the hum of the tv in the background. Your soft gasps as he pressed you against the hallway wall halfway to your room, kissing you again, slower this time almost like he couldn’t believe this was happening either.

When he finally laid you down, the sheets cool against your back and his body hovering over yours, he paused. Just long enough to look at you really look at you.

“You sure about this?” he asked, voice rough, barely above a whisper.

You reached for him, pulling him back down with a grin that was anything but innocent.

“Please.” You beg.

Will nods, a slow, knowing smile curling on his lips as he reaches down, pulling your shorts fully off along with your underwear . A sharp gasp escapes you, the cool air meeting your bare skin making your body shiver in anticipation. Your hands move without thinking, reaching for the waistband of his pants and boxers, sliding them down inch by inch.

His eyes, dark and glistening with desire, lock onto yours as you do so. The raw intensity in his gaze sends a jolt through you. Then, gentle but deliberate, he takes your hand and guides it to him, pressing you closer.

Slow. Deliberate. Every movement calculated to build the tension, to draw out the moment until you’re both trembling, aching for more.

His breath hitches as he slowly pushes inside you, his eyes never leaving yours, reading every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. The world narrows down to this electric connection, every inch, every sigh, every heartbeat.

He moves with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each inch drawing you deeper into the tension between you. Your breath catches, intertwining with his as the intensity builds, the air thick with raw need and whispered promises.

Will’s hands slide down your back, steadying you as his lips trail from your jaw to your neck, leaving hot, feather light kisses that make your skin prickle. You cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, desperate to hold on to this moment this wild, beautiful collision of desire and something tender beneath it.

“Gosh” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and rough, “you feel incredible.”

Your heartbeat races, matching his, every movement a perfect harmony as the world outside fades away. Time seems to slow, everything reduced to the heat you share and the deep connection that’s rapidly becoming impossible to ignore.

The room fills with soft gasps, whispered names, and the steady rhythm of two bodies learning each other’s language one touch, one sigh at a time.

Your fingers trace the line of his spine, nails raking gently down as your hips move to meet his. The way he groans into your mouth nearly undoes you.

It’s not rushed, not frantic this isn’t about release. It’s about the ache, the tension, the overwhelming realization that somewhere between bickering over fridge space and brushing past each other in the hallway, something deeper was always simmering.

And now it’s herer in full force.

His lips find yours again, this time desperate, messy, full of want. Your name slips from his mouth like a prayer, low and reverent. Every movement after that feels powerful yet powerless. And when the moment finally crashes over you both, it’s not just your bodies that give in.

Your back arches as his pace quickens, the slow build now unraveling into something urgent, overwhelming. Each thrust hits deeper, perfectly angled, his hands gripping you like he’s holding on for dear life.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp, voice breaking. “Will pleaseee.” You beg

“I’ve got you,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged. “I’m right here.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as your body starts to tremble, the pressure mounting impossibly high. He can feel it he knows and he doesn’t let up, driving into you with a rhythm that has you unraveling.

And then it hits.

Whitehot. Intense. Your body clenches around him as your orgasm crashes through you, a wave so strong it steals your breath. You cry out his name, gripping him tighter, lost in the pleasure that overtakes you.

Will follows moments later, a strained, guttural sound escaping his throat as he lets go inside you, hips stuttering, eyes squeezed shut like he’s never felt anything like this before.

For a second, everything is still just your tangled limbs, heaving breaths, and the feeling of being completely undone.

“Best roommate ever.” He says with a smirk on his face as he’s moving up your body to hold you.

[fandomsmadness]

TBHX episode 15 rant

I would like to start by announcing to the world that no, you cannot avoid therapy by becoming an assassin in our world. Pls go to therapy, don't be like Mo Sha.

As usual, spoilers below cut.

Firstly, I was going to talk about the pre-OP scene but I ended up having too many thoughts that became its own post here.

Secondly, the lore and commentary was another highlight this episode, and we're going to break down the smaller bits first.

Sheng died during the hero conflict shortly before Cyan's plane crash

The year of the plane crash, Mo Sha's wife left him, taking their daughter, Nuonuo

FOMO appeared in 19AC??? Idk why I thought it had to be more recent than that

Mo Sha's hero origin being through FOMO was not in my bingo card at all, wow. Also, I feel there's a pertinent question about privacy that simply must be asked here. We do this too. Is it okay to just randomly take photos of people who are minding their own business and... -gestures vaguely-

A butcher family and hero motivation, double whammy

Aside from that, I really liked how FOMO and its implications are being discussed in depth throughout the hero arcs.

We know that it was a boon to female heroes such as Bowa and Queen, as the shake up FOMO brought opened up the public's mind to many different kinds of heroes

We know Zac's argument and the beneficial side of FOMO, that is brings about equality in a way, giving everybody a fair shot to become a hero and upholding the "anyone can be X" philosophy

But in Mo Sha's arc, we see the darker implications which he's not at all shy about spelling out: through a platform, trust value is bestowed on a curated persona. It's easy to decieve. And hey isn't that very indicative of real life...the commentary truly isn't even trying to be subtle

For someone who just last episode was very condescending towards FOMO and it allowing random riff raff to become heroes, Rock (and Shang) certainly seemed to have no qualms back in 20AC asking a butcher to be an assassin

Also related to lore, Rock has too many disturbing implications for me to ignore anymore. He's hovering around too much, meddling too much, and has or had his fingers in three of the four prominent hero agencies - MG, Treeman, and FOMO.

But as if that isn't enough, he seems to be taking far too much interest in Professor Luo and what he's doing too.

At the end of episode 10 and Cyan's arc, in 37AC, we hear Mickey saying DOS is not the only ones looking into fear, followed by seeing Shang acting suspicious in a warehouse. Given that, safe to assume Rock and his allies are also looking into fear.

Now the only question is, is Spotlight also allied with Rock/MG/Treeman? It's not even implausible; Rock is diabolical and immoral, we wouldn't put it past him to embrace any power source he can find.

Moving away from the lore dump and into the rest of the episode, thirdly, Mo Sha. I'll preface by ackowledging that it's great to see a wide range of heroes on this roster, and very accurate representation for the introvert/sensory disorder/autism/neurodivergent fandoms fr. The backstory sequence properly freaked me out; I will not be rewatching that a while.

Here, have a calm shot of him leaving that madness because gosh, that was a lot.

But that being said... MAN GO. TO. THERAPY. God!!!! This should be the episode title!

He is on the one hand an adorable goofball with issues. Case in point:

Issues.

Also, stop gatecrashing your daughter's dates, nobody likes a helicopter parent.

The entire fandom: New ship!

Mo Sha: BAd iNflUeNcE!

But on the other hand, the man is a downright puppet. He killed a 175 people, didn't bother looking them up, and simply assume if he's asked to kill them, they must be the bad guys? What??? How on earth do you kill a guy who has flowers sprout up after him when he walks and think you're still in the right?

Bro you're a hero assassin, not a mercenary. Get yourself some free will pronto.

I'll admit, the whole whirlwind romance plotline was kind of touching, and while it was a shame things ended the way they did, it was also understandable. One person changed (for very valid, good-for-her reasons), the other didn't.

Girl went from texting her vows on her wedding to ask Mo Sha to enjoy other people's (loud, presumably) company. Man was not ready to change and be an involved father.

But what's interesting to me is her wording here. We thought Firm Man and then Lin Ling were the first people to reject the belief placed in them and let go of their given hero personas and that people were simply not aware you could do that until this point.

But that seems to be precisely what she's asking him to do here. She specifically uses the word shackle too, and it's more than apt in Mo Sha's case because, like Firm Man, his followers belief in him hinders his own function - talking.

They knew Mo Sha could renounce his hero life and reject the trust value. So why didn't he? What is he putting above his family life? There's missing missing reasons somewhere in the plot.

Said missing reasons should probably also explain why he suddenly wanted to accompany prof. Luo. Did he recognize him from somewhere, want to warn him about Rock, ask him to keep Luo Li away from his own daughter, or did he see something in that lab?

Next week better give us answers. I've seen two consecutive eps now with lore dumps bigger than the character arcs and I need me some character screentime.

[faestunna]

I love your little spoon head canons they’re so cute! What do you think its take to get the Jack characters jealous? Including Roy Goode I can’t find almost any fics on him 😭😔

CHARACTERS: oliver mellors, remmick, roy goode, patrick sumner, lion kaminski, james cook

WARNINGS: very slight angst, self-doubt/insecurities, jealousy

A/N: sorry this took long i ended up scrapping it and starting over to add patrick!! i’m really loving these headcanons so pls keep em coming! i hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

likes, reblogs, and comments are always and greatly appreciated!

oliver mellors

he wouldn’t have a single jealous bone in his body if it weren’t for martha’s affair. and it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. oliver trusts you with his life. for him, jealous arises not when other men look, but when they think they can take what’s his.

it’s one night when you two decide to wander into the pub. he notices the men in the corner who smirk at you when you walk by. oliver doesn’t confront them simply because he doesn’t need to. “i think those men are looking at me,” you say eventually with his arm slung over your shoulders.

“you think?” he plays dumb. rubs the side of your arm. but he stays aware. and since he isn’t forced to hide his love for you, he puts on a show of it. he’ll run a hand through your hair at the back of your head and push your mouth towards his. lips instantly locking onto yours. it takes you by surprise, but he kisses you with such fervor, you melt into his touch.

his other hand even graces your thigh. he likes the way the men shift in their seats, their eyes now glancing in any other direction. “let ‘em look at a pretty lass for once,” he says when he pulls away. “poor fucks wouldn’t know what to do with you anyway.”

remmick

we talk about jealous!remmick but this idea has been on my mind lately: he knows that it gets a little lonely with him being away so often. he doesn’t exactly want to share you, just let you have a little fun while he’s away. for your own pleasure.

it’s on his own terms, too. he can’t just have some random guy who isn’t worthy enough of you. it’ll be boy your age from your town who thinks you’re pretty. who doesn’t stop by the market you work at just to see the seasonal pick…and he flat out turns the kid. drains him nearly bone dry. he wants any and every memory he can get of you. sees how much this boy adores you—he’d do anything for you, but remmick can still have that control over him so he doesn’t step out of line.

remmick, convinced he’s being romantic, brings him to you like a surprise puppy. “what the hell did you do?” you say, hands on your hips. “well, look, sugar, i got you your own lil’ toy,” he tries to level. “he’ll just do absolutely anythin’ for you. get you anythin' you like when i can’t be there. hell, he can do just about everythin’ i can.”

“wh- remmick…” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose to soothe the headache this would give you. “what?” he shrugs unfairly. “he’ll be real nice, darlin’, i promise. and if he ain’t good enough, we’ll just get you a new one.”

patrick sumner

when patrick is jealous, it’s deeply repressed and restrained. it doesn’t hit all at once and explode like most of the others—it ferments.

he’ll spot you talking to someone else, maybe at a gala or dinner party, and initially won’t think anything of it. but then you laugh a little at the other man’s joke, or maybe his hand brushes your arm. patrick just observes and asks about it alone. “is he a friend of yours? you seemed…close.” he isn’t really accusing you—his jealousy is.

he won’t admit that it’s jealousy though, not even to himself. nevertheless, the feeling brews and he lets himself sit in it rather than talking to you about it. he’ll make connections between the way you look at him and how you look at the other man. but pushing it down only makes it worse. maybe even creates a distance between you two to let the feeling simmer even more.

and then he confronts you. drinks a little bit before he does it since the alcohol lets him really feel emotions. and it’ll be a version of patrick you’ve never seen before. he pulls you toward him, “i’m yours. and you’re mine. all i have for you is this—” he puts your hand over his heart. love. “so just stay with me tonight? alright, love?”

roy goode

this may be a shocker and a let down but roy goode doesn't get jealous. he doesn't have to. you've never given him a reason not to trust you. but it’s natural for him to get protective, and never in a possessive way. he knows you can handle yourself.

he’ll usually let the situation simmer. most times, you’ll shine your pistol at a lingering man, and that’ll do the trick. other times, it takes a little intervention. “you heard the lady. she ain’t lookin’ for any trouble, so don’t go make some.” he never stands in front of you, either. always beside. equal.

he gives them a specific look—always with his head just slightly tilted down so his eyes are hooded through his lids. he curls his lip a little in disgust so the man knows just how much roy disapproves of him. and if that, with your repeated ‘no’s, still aren’t enough….

i imagine a duel. a real proper gunfight between them set in the middle of the street like an old western film. “all this for a woman?” the other man usually says. roy will look over at you for just a moment before smiling. “you ain’t ever gonna know a woman as good as her. worth the damn world.”

lion kaminski

oh, lion. lion, lion, lion. lion listens to you with an admiration and deep love for the person you are. he’s a lover boy deep down that would do anything you asked. it’s not often that he ever feels threatened. but he still isn’t completely secure in himself; every once and a while, he’ll have a reaction.

again, lion isn’t threatened by stan. he knows you absolutely loathe him. but sometimes, older brothers liked to make jokes. ‘little lion’s whipped for his girl” in a mocking voice or a joking “how’d you even get a girlfriend?” and though you always reassure him—“there isn’t anybody else for me, walter. just you”—his mind still wanders at times.

but while he’s good with his fists, he’s better at restraint. something his brother doesn’t have. he prides himself for being to control himself. “he’s straight up disrespecting ya, baby.” he says as his knuckles flex and crack.

“he’s just looking,” you try to reason. it’s still too much for your own comfort, but you don’t want him to cause a scene. lion isn’t gonna do anything you don’t want to. “i’ll beat his ass, honey, just tell me the word.”

james cook

i mean...we're kidding, right? cook get jealous when another guy simply speaks your name. but it depends on if we’re talking about toxic!cook or not

toxic!cook is possessive. everyday, he makes sure you know it and that and everybody else knows it too. “ain’t i got a pretty one?” he’ll tell people while rubbing your cheek or running a hand through your hair. it’s at the point now where everyone pretty much knows not to touch you. but when someone does: “go enjoy his company tonight.” and then, closer to you with his lips inches away, “you think he’ll still want you if he knew what you were like with me?”

cook in general will initially try to play it off. "oi--that your new boyfriend or what?" he half-jokes, but it's because he wants to hear you reassure him. he has to hear it. cook's jealousy will eventually turn into a clinginess. if he notices a guy loitering a little too close or laughing too hard at your jokes: "this one's taken, yeah? just makin' sure we're all clear."

eventually, it'll become a vulnerability that he can't hide, even from you. it's only once in a blue moon when cook really opens up to you. "you could do better, you know that. have more. dunno why you hang about with me, sometimes." but he doesn't stay like that for long. not when you press a kiss to his forehead and hold him long enough till he feel your love in his bones.

© faestunna 2025.

[headcanon-everything]

uhhh,,, mayhaps,,, Maggie romantic hcs,,, uhh bye

OOH YES she's so cute

Romantic Maggie Headcanons

ironically enough, unless you accept her advances right away, it takes her a long time to figure out you like her

if you decide to go friends first, that locks it securely in her mind and she doesn't think twice about it until much MUCH later

(honestly I think the cutest way to do this would be to go a secret admirer route? give her a puzzle to solve and at the end of it is you, emotions raw and telling her how you feel)

((someone please write that actually I'd lose my mind))

she gets flustered easily!! and turns so red!!!

if you kiss the tip of her nose, she turns as red as her hair

she won't ever stop you though

has a cute high-pitched giggle when you really fluster her and she tucks her face into her coat

usually runs a little colder, but it doesn't bother her

she actually loves winter the most

take her to build a snowman!! you won't regret it

she will narrate herself or you during random parts of the day, and will only double down on it with a grin if you say you feel like you're in a nature documentary

has a hard time telling you how she feels from time to time because she gets a little embarrassed, so she writes out a long letter and will leave it at your bedside or in your office to find later!

will question why she found a red hair on your pillow until you remind her that her hair is in fact, red

sometimes she overthinks bc she likes the puzzle but it's okay <\3

is far-sighted! she needs the glasses to see up close (like a magnifying glass)

smells like vanilla and orange, with some smoky undertones

she tried doing more "musky/whiskey" scented perfumes to feel more like she's in a noir, but she hated it haha

I feel like she snorts when she laughs if you really get her going

loves if you give her surprises or secret presents, but good luck actually achieving it

if she gets even an INKLING of it, she's on the hunt

she does really love and appreciate the effort though and makes sure she tells you when wrapping you up in a hug and giving you a kiss on the cheek

if you do the "testing for kiss-proof makeup" trend on her, she looks like a cartoon - glasses askew, lipstick all over her face, a silly grin as she's just happily staring off into space

[foxlorests]

𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒

CHAPTER SIX: THE BALLAD OF HARRY AND CATHERINE

♫⋆｡♪ PAIR: Harry Castillo x Younger!Original Female Character

♫⋆｡♪ WC: 9.4k

♫⋆｡♪ CHAPTER TAGS: SMUT 18+ MDNI, P in V Sex, 2 Rounds, Size kink, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Cum as Lube, Creampie 2x, Doggystyle, Missionary, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Age Difference, Catherine being submissive, Harry losing control, first fight, hospital visit, FLUFF, Slow Burn, Yearning, Mutual Pining, Soulmates, Romcom Vibes, Domestic Harry Castillo, Billionaire Harry, Harry learning how to fall in love the human way, Emotional vulnerability

♫⋆｡♪ CHAPTER SUMMARY: Dating life of Harry the billionaire and Catherine the composer.

AO3 | Wattpad | Spotify Playlist | Youtube Music Playlist | Idealists Masterlist

Months passed the way good months sometimes do—quietly, quickly, tucked beneath the folds of routine. Not without its challenges, but gentler, more bearable when the days were stitched with shared meals and familiar faces. Harry worked. Catherine spends her days helping the studio. Sometimes, they occupied different orbits entirely, but they found their way back to each other more often than not. His reason was mostly because she needed to help him eat the groceries she bought before it went bad.

He had started sending for her. Not every day, but enough to call it a pattern. His driver would pull up outside her building like clockwork, and she’d emerge—always with something in hand, a coffee or a tote bag or a violin, talking on the phone, laughing. She never asked for the car, and when he offered to get her her own driver, she declined immediately.

“Mr. Williams is fine,” she had said, slipping into the seat and adjusting her coat. “He’s kind. And besides, he’s saving up for something. He could use the extra hour. I think his wife’s expecting again.”

Harry had blinked. “How do you know that?”

“I ask.”

And she did. She asked people things. How their day was. How they slept. If their mother was still in the hospital. She remembered names and faces and allergies. Mr. Williams—a scary looking man with a small scar on his lips—once told Harry that driving her around was therapeutic. “Talks my ears off,” he’d said fondly. “She reminds me of my youngest niece. One that thinks too hard about the world.”

Harry had laughed at that. “You’ll get a bonus.”

He said he would have done it without the bonus anyway.

It was astonishing, how quickly people opened up if you just knew where to look. Williams needed the extra cash, yes—three kids and another on the way. But more than that, he needed someone like Catherine in the car with him, asking questions that made the day pass easier. Something that Harry knew nothing about.

Catherine had that effect. A kind of soft interference in people’s patterns. She didn’t always mean to fix things, but sometimes she did. Harry saw it on a random Thursday near Times Square, when she stopped walking to listen to a busker with a bent trumpet and a torn glove. Some teenagers were heckling, loud and careless. She gave the musician a fifty and an address—her studio—and told him to come record something, no charge.

“You can’t run a studio giving free services to everyone,” Harry had said later, not unkindly.

“I know,” she said, tying her hair back. “But he’s talented. Think of it as an investment.”

And then he understood. Funny how she could speak his language so easily. She made the world a little more tolerable. For people like him and  Mr. Williams. For Emma, too.

The night Catherine played a private concert for Emma’s anniversary—Harry wasn’t there, but he heard all about it the next day. Emma came into work glowing. She showed him videos, grainy but still lovely, of Catherine in a small personal fancy dining room that they rented, playing an impromptu rendition of a song Emma’s husband used to sing when they were first dating.

“She played it after hearing it once,” Emma had said, eyes a little misty. “And she made us laugh, too. I think she’s magic.”

Harry had nodded slowly, then asked her to send him the pictures—just the ones of Catherine. He said it was for some press kit. It wasn’t.

Catherine still spent nights at his place, though not every night. And most nights ended the same way—him watching her fall asleep mid-sentence, her hair splayed across his pillows, her breath soft and even. She’d kiss him, and they’d kiss some more, and sometimes her hand would slip under his shirt and stay there, and his heart would race, his body would follow. But eventually she’d fall asleep against him, warm and tangled, and he’d lie there, wanting her in ways he didn’t even have words for.

He had taken more cold showers in the last month than he had in the last decade. But he didn’t complain. He wouldn’t have changed it for anything.

Because something in the way she reached for him without thinking, curled toward him in her sleep like he was a constant, made it all worth it. Because this—this was a rhythm he could live with.

And even in his frustrated quiet, he knew what it meant. He was falling in love with her.

Not in the impulsive, blindfolded way of his younger years. Or the way he usually gets attached to someone, with his head and his needs. But slowly. Precisely. Differently than his past experiences when the urgency of getting old got to him. It was a slow process, especially for someone his age, but he didn’t really care. He did it happily. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like there had never been any other outcome.

The first two months were nearly over before either of them noticed. Not because the days went fast, but because they were full. Appointments. Rehearsals. Meetings.

Catherine’s documentary deal was set to begin—her first screen project. She’d turned down films before, but this one felt right. A quiet, poetic piece from the BBC, part of a larger series about the universe. She’d read the project aloud to him once, on the couch, bare-legged and wrapped in his sweater, and he remembered thinking that only she could make gravitational waves sound romantic.

They decided to have a night out before the chaos began. A dinner. A real one.

He took her to Emma’s husband’s restaurant. It was fancier than the usual places he took his girlfriends. There were multiple utensils, arranged according to a specific etiquette that most of his regular girlfriends wouldn’t know, even the upper middle class. It was the kind of fine-dining place that required serious reservations, or at least knowing someone important—which, of course, Harry did. But he hadn’t ever bothered to go before. Not with anyone.

She noticed.

“Why haven’t you been here before?” she asked, between sips of wine. “I know it’s hard to get a table, but a couple weeks' wait isn't the end of the world. You could’ve asked Emma ages ago, or one of your colleagues. I’m sure you have business with important people.”

He folded his napkin with unnecessary care. “I guess I just didn’t like the hassle of putting my name on waiting lists.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t like romantic dinners?”

“I do, but not the hard ones.” He paused. “Not ones that required waiting.”

Her eyebrow rose. “What about your previous girlfriend?”

He took a sip of water before answering. A beat too slow. That slippery territory again. Still embarrassing.

“I guess I haven’t really bothered before,” he said finally. Or wanted to, he thought. “A multi-course meal isn’t just for anyone.”

He didn’t tell her that he used to take women to the same three places on rotation—quiet but forgettable to him. He liked women who thought a couple hundred was expensive. It made him feel like he exceeded expectations by just avoiding food truck meals. Conversations kept surface-level. Nothing that stuck. Nothing that lingered. He wanted the romance just enough to get by, to make them stay. He’d take them to a somewhat fancy place and they’re already looking at him like he’s amazing, like part of his charm is his money. He didn’t mind. Love had felt like something abstract and theatrical then. 

“Besides,” he added, “this is to make up for our first date.”

Catherine smiled. “I love that burrito truck. It’s seen me at my worst.”

He chuckled.

Back at the penthouse, it was late but neither of them were tired. They talked for a while—feet on the coffee table, glasses still half-full—until the conversation drifted to early years. He told her about the time he’d somehow earned a B in high school art by charming his way through a final presentation. Claimed his poorly drawn still life was a commentary on irony in postmodernism. The teacher had blinked at him, probably too tired to argue.

“I had no idea what I was talking about,” he said. “Still don’t.”

She laughed so hard she nearly spilled her wine. He liked making her laugh. Probably more than he should.

And then, maybe out of some buried insecurity, he asked if she would get bored of him. If it was strange to date someone who couldn’t tell a C major from a D minor. Someone who, despite his power and polish, couldn’t really understand what it meant to be moved by your own creation.

“You think I pick people based on whether they can do art?” she asked, grinning, her voice soft in the quiet.

He didn’t answer. Not directly.

The pageant conversation happened by accident. A thread pulled too lightly, and suddenly it unraveled. One moment they were teasing each other over bad yearbook photos, and the next they were watching old videos of Catherine—aged somewhere between seven and ten—answering questions on a televised stage, her voice small but oddly composed. A pink sash, a tiara, a winning smile that looked practiced.

Harry hadn’t expected to find it so endearing. The clip was buried deep online, grainy and compressed, dug up through some obscure archive website with buffering issues. Catherine was red-faced the entire time, fingers clutching the edge of the couch cushion as if it might help her disappear. She kept insisting it was awful. She claimed her voice was too squeaky, her dress ridiculous, her walk stiff. But what Harry saw was a child who already knew how to charm a room. Articulate, even then. Witty in a way that didn’t feel coached.

“You won,” he said, softly. “Don’t know why you have to be so embarrassed.”

She rolled her eyes and reached forward to close the tab before the video could finish. He didn’t fight her on it—but he bookmarked the link. He’d watch the rest later, when she wasn’t looking.

Later that night, they were brushing their teeth together when her sister called, a picture of a woman who looked a little bit like Catherine but with darker hair glowed on the screen. Jane. The name flashed on the screen just as Catherine was finishing rinsing. She answered it without hesitation, putting it on speaker like Harry was already in the fold—just another pair of ears in the room, welcome to whatever family mess came through the line.

Jane’s voice was sharp, slightly amused. “Heard you accepted a movie deal.”

“It’s a documentary,” Catherine said, mid-spit.

“Same thing.”

“It’s not a movie,” she corrected. “It’s for the BBC. They’re interviewing Ashoke Sen.”

A pause. Then a scoff. “Like I know who that is.”

Harry tried not to laugh.

“I’m with Harry,” Catherine said, grabbing a towel to dry her face. “Say hello, Harry.”

“Hello.”

“The boyfriend, huh?” Jane said, too smoothly. “Heard a lot about you, Harry.”

They talked about some other stuff too, mostly about family. Harry trailed to his bedroom, half listening.

“Anyways, Jane, It’s late here and I’m having a sore throat. Plus tomorrow is my first day doing the soundtrack, so this is my last chance to get a really good rest.”

When she closed the phone, Harry already went rifling through his medicine cabinet, returned with a pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“For your throat,” he said simply, holding it out to her like it was nothing. “You have to drink it again tomorrow. Next time you feel sick, even just a little, you tell someone. Alright?”

She paused. Looked at him for a beat longer than expected.

Then nodded, quiet, and took the pill. He watched her slowly, making sure she really did drink it. He then took the glass and went out again to refill it, to put it on her bedside table— at least the one he assigned to her.

She stood in the bathroom doorway, sleeves of her shirt rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was half-damp, soft at the ends. She looked at him the way she always did—like she was trying to memorize him.

Harry waited, silent, the way he often did with her. Some words had to arrive on their own.

“I like you, Harry,” she said.

He smiled, slow. “Well, I should hope so.”

But something lingered behind her voice. A shadow of guilt, maybe, or melancholy. She’d said earlier how emotional she was about tomorrow—how work would consume her, how her schedule would change. That she hated missing things. Her friends, her studio. Him. There was something about knowing what was coming that made her softer tonight. Like she needed to hold onto something.

She stepped toward him and kissed him. Lightly, at first. A cautious hello, a silent sorry. Then she kissed him again. Deeper. Longer. The kind of kiss that said she’d been thinking about this all day. Her mouth tasted like peppermint. Her hands touched his jaw, the side of his neck, slow and certain.

He kissed her back and found her pulse with his mouth, just under her ear. She inhaled, shallow.

“Thank you for being so patient with me,” she whispered.

He laughed under his breath. “Hasn’t been easy.”

Her laugh pressed against his skin. Then she kissed him again, slower this time. Hungrier. Her hands curled into the back of his neck, her breath a pattern he already recognized. Familiar and new. He groaned before he could stop himself.

“You’re trying to torture me,” he murmured.

She smiled, full and amused. Jumped a little into his arms, light as she always felt in moments like this. He caught her easily, carried her a few steps toward the bed. Their routine.

He laid her down to his bed. 

“I want you, Harry,” she said.

His heartbeat stopped. He stared for a moment, eyes refused to blink, dark with desire, looking down at her on the bed. His frame caged her in.

“I want you—”

“Don’t say that,” he told her quietly. “Not unless you really mean it.”

She looked at him. No blink. No hesitation.

“But I do,” she said. “I think about you all the time. I’m going to miss having you around.”

“You're not going anywhere,” said Harry, giving her cheeks kisses. “I’m going to visit your studio everyday. Check if you’re still alive or not.”

“Everyday? That’s an awful lot of time, isn’t it? You’re not busy?”

“Everyday.”

He kissed her again—soft, and long, and grateful. She was starting to kiss desperately, clinging to him harder than she had ever done before.

“Please, Harry,” said Catherine, her eyes dark with lust.

He looked the same way, but he’d argued his feelings were more intense. It was long bottled up and stored away, waiting for her to start the fire. “You don’t need to beg, sweetheart. My beautiful Catherine.”

His hands trailed her body, braver than he ever was before. He touched breasts, slowly at first, then rougher when she approved with her moans.

“I wanted you so much. Would’ve waited a lifetime,” he said. He took his shirt off slowly, then hers. She was eager, raising her arms then wrapping it around him again.

“I’m sorry it took so long. I wanted you too,” she said, bringing him for a kiss again.

He groaned. “Don’t say sorry.”

She moaned, and the sound woke something so guttural inside him that he stopped.

She kissed him still, then asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going too fast,” he said, his breathing heavy, inhaling more of her smell that somehow travelled down to his crotch, making his length hard, wanting to be inside her.

He was desperate. Oh so desperate. How long had he wanted this? So long, so long he wanted to touch her, to be inside her. To hear her moan as she writhed under him. The thought was too strong, traveling through his body like electricity.  

“I’m not a virgin, Harry,” she whispered.

“It's not that,” he said hurriedly.

“I’m on the pill. Just started last—”

He groaned, stopping her words. 

“No, it's just… I don’t think I can hold back, sweetheart.” He winced at the surge of feeling. How pathetic he sounded.

“You don't have to.”

It took a few seconds for the words to settle. Then Harry took off the rest of their clothes, and his hand moved rougher, faster. Took off her bra in a hurry, her panties with the same urgency. He touched her there, felt the wetness and groaned again.

“So wet, Catherine,” he said, his voice unfamiliar. Lower.

He touched her clit, his fingers moving in slow circles.

Harry loved touching her, making her sigh. It made him look at her in a different light, like she was older than she is. And when he touched her, he felt intoxicated. His fingers caressed her velvety insides, hot and wet. She was, simply, the most beautiful woman in the world. He’s not exaggerating. Her curves, entirely woman. Soft, lovely.

His lips trailed down her collarbone, then lower to her breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently before biting down softly. She gasped quietly as he moved lower still, kissing her stomach and hips before settling between her thighs.

Harry buried his face between her legs, his tongue licking up her slit before finding her clit. He sucked hard, making her arch off the bed. He was hungry for her taste and sounds. Her moans always urged him on. His tongue worked her with skilled precision, each lick and suck more intense than the last. His hands gripped her thighs firmly, keeping her pinned down as he ravaged her.

“Fuck, Catherine”, he muttered against her. “Tastes so good.”

She moaned, a low sound that made him harder, had him searching for more friction. He groaned against her clit, the sound vibrating through her sensitive flesh. He knew he was pushing the limits of his own control, but he couldn't stop. He needed more of her sounds. More of her taste. His mind repeating the name Catherine like a prayer.

He slid two fingers inside her, curling them upwards to hit that spot deep inside.

Catherine let out a sound. The sound of her nearly screaming his name, but somehow lost in thought, like she felt too much pleasure she forgot. It nearly made him lose it. His fingers went faster, and faster.

He growled low in his throat. A sound of pure primal need.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered against her thighs as he moved back up her body quickly. “You’re killing me, Catherine.”

His cock pressed against her entrance.

“I want you too,” he said, desperately. “So much.”

Without waiting another second, for fear of his growing insanity, he pressed the head of his cock against her soaked entrance and pushed inward. Harry's mind went blank, his pulse inconsistent. It was, simply, the tightest, warmest cunt he ever felt. It made him forget all the others. He was sure nothing came close. He wondered how he went so long without it.

He took his time, savoring the feel of her tight heat enveloping him inch by tortuous inch. Once he was fully sheathed, he paused, his breath coming hard and fast against her neck.

Then in an effort to not pounce her immediately, he bit her neck, sucking, making a mark. He couldn’t even focus on her breath, didn’t even notice when her hands trailed around his back, urging him to move. He stayed there for a minute, holding himself back despite her moans. He couldn’t be too rough, even if he wanted to. Maybe someday, when they were both desperate for each other. But not now when he was sure his needs excelled hers. When it nearly clouded his control.

Harry began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm that made her back arch off the bed.

He filled her up slowly, inch by inch, watching as she took him perfectly. He was overwhelmed by how good it felt. How tight, how it squeezed his cock almost painfully. It was a hard fit, but it didn’t matter. He liked the feeling. Revelled in it. It was hot, wet, and perfect. Frankly, he wanted to stay buried in her forever.

She was caressing him, as if urging him to go on. Her soft hands went from his shoulders to his arms.

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart,” he finally said.

With a sound of pure desire, he began to move gradually faster. His hips slammed into her with brutal force, each thrust designed to take her to the edge and beyond. He fucked her harder, his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her vision blur.

She begged, repeating the word “please” but never got to the end of the sentence. There was something about her voice, the way she said it that made Harry hungrier. She was so polite, so soft in her request. And although he told her not to beg, he loved it. Loved the way she said his name like a prayer, as if her desire is close to anything he ever felt for her.

His thrusts became punishing, almost violent. He watched as her breasts bounced with each snap of his hips.

He knew he wasn’t being gentle anymore. He couldn’t. His body took control, claiming her hard and deep like he always wanted to.

Her moans filled the room, pushing him further.

His large hands found her breasts, squeezed it roughly, thumbs rubbing her hard nipples. He leaned down to capture a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as he continued hammering into her. His balls slapped against her ass with each thrust. He was grasping the last bit of control he had left, fucking her like a wild animal.

He switched between her breasts, lavishing them with equal attention. His teeth grazed against one sensitive nipple, making her gasp.

“Such beautiful breasts, sweetheart,” he growled, pinching one nipple between his fingers while he continued to suck the other. His hips still hammering.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. I can’t control myself, I’m sorry.” He went back to her mouth, kissing her again.

Her erotic face looked up at him, her brows furrowed, her voice softer, “It’s fine. I want you to.”

Those words were his undoing. He groaned so hard, his deep voice finally out from its restraints. Somehow, he thrusts faster. If his bed wasn’t expensive, it would’ve made a sound, would’ve moved with them and banged the walls. Internally, he cursed himself for not being able to stay quiet, focus on her body. Catherine, though, seemed to enjoy it. She didn’t mind that he went harder. Even better, she moaned right into his ears. The sound became louder when he groaned too. It was like a song, harmonizing, except it was erotic, filled with need.

His balls tightened, warning of his impending release. He squeezed her breasts roughly, sucked on her neck, marking her with hickeys.

Harry's body was a landscape of hard, coiled muscle beneath her trembling fingers. He could feel her hands. She mapped every ridge and valley, committing it to memory. He did the same, more out of need than to urge her. He explored the soft, yielding expanse of her skin. His hands roamed, possessive and hungry, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He cupped her breasts again, thumbing her nipples into aching peaks, before trailing lower, over the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips.

"Fuck, Catherine," he groaned, his voice rough with desire, "You're exquisite. Every inch of you." He settled between her thighs, his hard length pressing against her slick folds, making her gasp. "I've wanted this for so long. Wanted you. Needed you."

She moaned louder.

"You feel incredible," he murmured, nipping at her earlobe and making her shudder. "Like you were made for me. Made to take my cock so perfectly." He began to move again, his thrusts deep and powerful.

Catherine’s fingers digging into his shoulders, her nails leaving red crescents in his skin. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper. Harry obliged, pounding into her with a fervor that stole her breath. The room filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and their mingled moans and cries of pleasure.

Harry felt her tightening around him, her inner muscles clenching, as if close. He redoubled his efforts, determined to bring her to the peak, to hear her scream his name in ecstasy. He was close, so fucking close, and he could tell she was too. He reached between her legs, finding her clit again and rubbing it furiously as he pounded harder and harder.

“Come on my cock, sweetheart. Milk me dry. Squeeze me, just like that,” he said, urging her on.

Catherine let out a sharp cry as she came undone, her body shaking beneath his as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. His name came out in a desperate moan as he felt her pussy clench around his cock. 

That squeeze of her release did something to him. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he found his own release. He let out a loud roar, his hot cum shooting into her pussy. He kept coming. His balls were emptying completely inside her.

Harry collapsed on top of her, still buried deep inside. His heavy breathing filled the room as he tried to catch his breath. His softening cock remained inside her, still leaking cum. God, he felt like he was a few decades younger.

“You did so well. Such a good girl,” he whispered against her neck.

“I could still feel you,” she whispered. “Your cum is so warm.”

He felt her warm breath on his neck and her squirming body against him. His soft cock twitches inside her, still sensitive. He presses a kiss to her neck, then her lips, swallowing her heavy breaths. He remained buried inside her, not ready to pull out just yet.

After some time, Catherine squirmed some more.

A deep groan escaped his throat as his cock started to harden again inside her, slowly. Some of his spent leaked from her, making a sound that sounded too erotic. He tried to tune it out, think of anything but how it good it felt to be inside her.

“Stop, Catherine,” he whispered against her lips, but his hips moved involuntarily, thrusting slowly this time. “You’re making me hard again,” his hand gripped her hips, trying to somehow stop it. Not because he didn’t want to, but because she needed the rest.

He looked at where they were joined. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the slight amount of blood on her thighs.

“Fuck, you’re bleeding,” he said apologetically. “You're sure you're not a virgin?”

Catherine, still finding it hard to speak, whispered, “I’m sure.”

He hissed, looking down at the mess they made. His thick length was almost fully inside her. He withdrew slightly, watching his shaft coated with her juices and a little blood. He was supposed to pull all the way out, but instead he pushed in slowly again. It was arousing, watching her pussy clung to him. He watched as some of his cum from a few minutes ago went down to his balls. The sensation made him want to thrust again.

She was so tight. Tighter than any woman he had ever been with.

“I want you again,” he said and winced as he tried his best to halt any motion.

She moaned, her eyes half-lidded. He couldn’t tell if she was tired or if she wanted more too. Then she squirmed again, and that did it for him. 

"Fuck, Catherine," he growled softly, "you're so goddamn tight." He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside her and making her gasp. "It's like you were made for me, molded to take my cock, aren’t you sweetheart? To take every fucking inch of me. You can take me, can’t you? You’ll stretch just for me, hm?"

“Yes,” she said, breathlessly. “I can take you, Harry. I’ll be good.”

“Good girl,” he said. “So eager to please.”

Harry leaned down and sealed her lips with his in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth to tangle with hers. He devoured her moans and whimpers, swallowing them greedily as he began to move faster, his hips snapping against hers with increasing urgency. The wet, obscene sounds of their coupling filled the room again, spurring him on as he lost himself in the exquisite feel of Catherine's body beneath him.

"That's it, baby," he panted harshly against her ear, "Come for me. Squeeze my fucking cock with your perfect little cunt. I want to feel you come undone again. It feels good, doesn’t it?"

“It does,” she said hurriedly, nodding. “You’re so big. I’ll stretch for you. It hurts so good, it feels so good. I want you deeper. Please, Harry.”

Harry agreed but too busy with ecstasy to say so, almost laughing with relief when she said it.

He flipped Catherine onto her hands and knees, his large hands gripping her hips tightly as he positioned himself behind her. She felt the head of his cock pressing insistently against her dripping entrance, ready to plunge back inside her welcoming heat. With a swift, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself fully inside her, making her cry out in a mix of pleasure and slight pain.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, pausing to let her adjust to the depth and girth of him stretching her open. "You're so tight like this. I can feel every inch of your little pussy clenching around me. You like it hard, sweetheart?"

“Yes, please, Harry.”

He began to move, his hips rolling in a deep, sensual rhythm as he held her hips steady. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper inside her, stroking that special spot that made her knees shake. His balls slapped against her clit with each thrust, the lewd sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the room yet again.

One hand reached up to tangle in her hair, gripping it lightly as he pulled her back against his chest. She was smaller than him, yet still fit perfectly. His other hand slid around to her front, finding her swollen clit and rubbing it in tight, quick circles. Harry could feel her getting closer to the edge, her pussy fluttering and clenching around his pistoning cock.

"That's it, my good girl," he growled in her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine, "Come on my cock. Milk me, sweetheart. Good girl. So wet. Soak me. Tighten, just like that. Yes, just like that."

His words were filthy, dirty, and oh so effective. They pushed Catherine over the precipice, her body convulsing and shaking as a massive orgasm ripped through her for the second time that night. She screamed his name, a guttural, primal sound of pure ecstasy as her pussy clenched down on him like a vice. The sensation was too much for Harry, and with a roar, he slammed into her one last time before exploding, his hot seed spurting deep inside her spasming channel.

They collapsed together onto the bed, Harry's weight pressing Catherine into the mattress as they both struggled to catch their breath. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as the aftershocks of their intense coupling subsided. Harry pressed a tender kiss to her shoulder, letting her finally rest.

⊹

Harry had never known anyone to disappear quite so completely into their work. Not the way Catherine did. She didn’t just work at the studio—she lived there. Morning coffee gave way to late-night tea, which bled into caffeine-fueled dawns. She existed on crackers and adrenaline. When her hand began to tremble, she brushed it off—this happens when I forget to eat, she’d said with a smile. He didn’t find it amusing.

So he made a point by bringing her food. Had asked for her manager’s number to keep track of her when she’s not answering.

A bag dropped off at odd hours. A thermos. A warm pastry in the morning. A full dinner in a box, even if it was eaten cold. Sometimes he sent Emma, always with the excuse that he was running late, but never because he forgot. It became a habit. A quiet rhythm. Nourishing her had become the most important part of his day.

Her replies slowed. A text here, a missed call there. Sometimes silence altogether. He could’ve taken it personally, but he didn’t. He knew the pattern. She usually doesn’t answer when she’s with the whole orchestra. When she’s too preoccupied with other people. He knew how she worked, now that he knew her. 

So he came to her everyday. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Even if it was just for a few minutes. Even if he stood at the edge of the room while she adjusted microphones or ran through a melody again and again until the sound was right. He always made time, because there was always time, if you looked for it. Although, that hadn’t been the case before her.

During spring, when she was supposed to be done, the word done lost its meaning. The BBC sent back notes—two tracks needed to be redone at some parts— higher or lower or more mellow in the parts they needed it to be. At first, she handled it. Smiled. Shrugged. The usual. But then she stopped sleeping properly. Stopped leaving the studio at all. The notes had burrowed in. Perfection became an obsession. He watched her slow down between takes, sometimes staring at the same page for twenty minutes, searching for something only she could hear.

She didn’t complain, but he saw the shift— in the way she tucked her knees into the studio chair, in the clutter around her, in the quiet frustration that lived in her shoulders. She was usually very neat.

Their first fight came during that period of time. Partially, it came from sleep deprivation and cheap takeout. From too many nights curled up on the studio couch, too many cold coffees reheated twice. It also came from a bump on her wrist that had been growing for a few days, under the skin like a second bone trying to form.

Harry walked in just as Talia, her manager, raised the book.

He didn’t register it at first—just the sound of voices, laughter maybe, and then that strange, high-pitched urgency he recognized as Catherine’s voice. He moved fast. His hand caught Talia’s wrist mid-air. The book stopped inches above Catherine’s arm.

She looked up at him, annoyed. “Stop, Harry. I need it to get fixed fast.”

He didn’t answer her right away. Just looked at the bump. It’s not red, it just looked like her joint got bigger in size. Though he noticed how she winced when she moved it. That was enough proof that she was in pain.

“That’s enough, Catherine,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”

“But I have to finish this song. And it’s hurting. I can’t concentrate—”

“You’ll finish it later.”

“No,” she snapped. “I’m so close. Just one more day. You don’t know how hard it is to get it right. I can’t get the harp to sound like it should—”

“Let’s go.”

“No.”

They ended up at the hospital anyway.

It was a quiet ride. She didn’t say a word. Just sat with her wrist in her lap, like a child sent to the nurse’s office. Her shoulders curled inward. He kept glancing at her, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

At the hospital, the verdict was clinical: a ganglion cyst. Harmless, mostly. Common in musicians. Sometimes painful, yes—but not dangerous. The doctor explained the options with the kind of voice that didn’t leave much room for comfort. They could drain it, but it might return. They could operate, but that meant downtime—weeks, maybe. A brace would relieve the pressure, but she wouldn’t be able to play. And then there were medications. Slower, but manageable.

She listened to each option like she wasn’t really there. She chose whatever got her back to the studio fastest without any more pain, which was draining it.

It wasn’t a hard procedure. The needle wasn’t even big, and she didn’t look like she was scared of it. But when it came time for it to be drained, she asked Harry to hold her and he could feel her other hand tightening on his shirt. It must’ve hurt.

When she finally laid back on the hospital bed, exhaustion took her almost instantly. She didn’t argue anymore. She just closed her eyes and folded into sleep like it had been waiting for her all week.

Harry stayed by her side, asking the doctor quiet questions in the hallway about recovery time and some other stuff they should know.

“She’s pushing herself too hard,” the doctor said. “That is a symptom from working her wrist too hard. What she needs is proper rest. If she keeps this up, she’s going to get sick with other symptoms worse than just a ganglion. She could get really sick.”

Like he didn’t already know that. Like he wasn’t already worrying everyday. He wanted to tell the doctor that he knew but the girl is too stubborn and stupidly drowning in her work. Instead, Harry just nodded. Noted it all. Took the pamphlets. When he came back into the room, she was still out cold.

They let her sleep until the nurse finished checking her vitals. The doctor woke her gently. She blinked up at Harry, a little disoriented. He didn’t say a word, just took her coat and helped her get up.

The ride back to his apartment was silent. Catherine had crossed her arms like a teenager, staring out the window with tight lips and a jaw that had locked into place twenty minutes ago. He didn’t speak. He knew her enough now to know it wouldn’t help. Not yet.

When the driver pulled up to the penthouse, she didn’t wait for the door to be opened. She was out of the car before him, stomping ahead like she meant to put distance between them. Her shoes echoed in the marble hallway. By the time he caught up, she’d already dropped her coat on the arm of the couch and was sitting with her legs curled up, arms crossed again, sulking with intent.

He closed the door behind them quietly.

“I can’t believe you didn’t take me back to the studio,” she said, not looking at him. Her voice clipped and fast. “I told you I could finish it in one day. Maybe even tonight.”

He didn’t respond immediately. She wasn’t really asking him. She just needed to release the tension building in her bones.

“The deadline’s a week away,” he said finally. “You have time.”

“That’s not the point,” she snapped. “I want them to be impressed. I want them to hear it and think—wow, she did it fast and she did it well. I was so close, Harry. You have no idea. I just needed the harp to fall right and I would’ve been done.”

She rubbed her wrist without thinking. The soft bandage made it look more fragile than it probably was. He couldn’t look at it too long.

“I should’ve just hit it with a book,” she mumbled.

That annoyed him. He stopped in front of her. Took a breath.

“That’s irresponsible,” he said firmly. Harder than he ever spoke to her before. “You hear me, Catherine? You don’t do that again. Never— Never do that again.”

She rolled her eyes. “I did it once before.”

“And you’re lucky I wasn’t there,” he said, still pressing, still loud. “Because I would’ve dragged you to the hospital that time too.”

She sighed, deep and dismissive. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No,” he said, walking past her to the kitchen, already reaching for water, maybe something to put in front of her. “I’m being a responsible adult.”

She didn’t argue after that. Just sat there, silent again, sinking slowly into the realization that her body—like time, like deadlines—was something she couldn’t control completely. And Harry, in his stubborn, quiet way, wasn’t angry. He was worried. That was worse somehow.

He walked to the kitchen and reheated the food he’d picked up earlier that afternoon, still in its paper bag from the studio run—untouched, because the hospital detour had gotten in the way. The microwave hummed quietly as he leaned against the counter, watching the numbers count down like they meant something.

He’d probably been too sharp with her. Too forceful. But at least she was here now. Safe, if grumpy. And if she hated him for it—fine. She could hate him while getting one full night of rest. That was the bargain he was willing to take.

Then she was there, padding into the kitchen like someone coming down from a fever. Her posture softer, head low. Like she was ready to surrender but didn’t want to say it out loud.

“I’m so tired,” she murmured.

“I know.”

He stepped in first. Arms around her before she could collapse into herself. He didn’t realize until then how much she needed that hug—how much she had been holding in with caffeine and sheer willpower.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re not being dramatic,” she said into his chest. Her voice cracked just enough to make his throat tighten. “And I missed you. Missed my friends. I’m never taking a screen deal again.”

He smiled, his chin above her head, resting against her hair. “You might change your mind later. You liked the first half, didn’t you? Before the notes came in. You just overthink the rest. That’s what happens when you care too much. It’s harder when you’re making things for other people.”

She nodded against him.

“It’s not like an album,” he went on, quietly. “When the only person you need to impress is yourself. They’ll have notes. Opinions. And you’ll listen, because that’s who you are. You care. That’s not a bad thing.”

There was a pause, and then he said: “Should’ve done an indie film first. They’d be so grateful you could send them an out-of-tune violin and they’d say it’s ‘experimental.’”

She laughed. Her body shook against his. When he looked down, her eyes were wet.

“You just have to learn to balance your life,” he murmured.

“I should,” she whispered. “I get lost in it sometimes. In wanting to do good.”

“I know you do.”

“I was working hard to make it perfect, but the urgency in which I did it, it’s because I didn’t want to miss out. I tried to make friends with orchestra people, but they’d rather see me as a composer than a friend. I sensed it. And my friends, well they’re artists in their own time, with their own schedules, with time to date and party. I’ve spent so many years missing out. Missing everything, getting left out. I’d be the one asking what the joke was, and they’d say, ‘You had to be there.’ And I wasn’t. I was practicing.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“I don’t want to miss out. On them, on you. But I keep needing to disappear to make great music. So I try to finish as quickly as possible, no matter how messy it gets, how unhealthy it is. As long as it means there’s no more inside jokes I couldn’t get, or a memory I missed.”

“We’ll make our own inside jokes,” he said. “Besides, nothing’s happening to me. Ever. And if something were to happen, you’d be the first person I’d tell.”

She looked up, smiling faintly through the mess of emotion. “I just want it done quickly so I can go home and not miss out on anything ever again.”

“I want you home too,” he said. “With proper rest. But you have time. What’s one more day?”

And that was that.

She fell asleep early that evening, he changed her into her pajamas while she was barely conscious. She collapsed into bed and slept like she hadn’t in weeks—deep and dreamless. When morning came, she didn’t stir even when he moved around the apartment. He let her be.

He left a note by her nightstand before work, told her to eat something and that he will be checking. That she could ask Mr Williams to take her back to the studio when she’s ready.

And then he was gone, leaving the door softly shut behind him. The penthouse felt warmer with her there, even in sleep. Even in silence.

⊹

True to her words, Catherine finished the piece the day she said she would. The BBC accepted her revised renditions almost immediately, sending a short note of approval that made her breath hitch and shoulders finally relax. She was proud. That much was obvious. And Harry could tell, because she showed up at his office door with wine and flushed cheeks— unannounced, of course.

He didn’t know she was coming. He should’ve. Emma had been acting strange for the past hour, typing with too much energy and dodging questions with suspicious precision. When he pressed, she deflected with unusual efficiency. Only later did he realize Catherine had called to ask for the address, and Emma—predictably loyal—had played accomplice.

“I come bearing gifts!” Catherine announced, pushing open the glass door to his office, her grin already brighter than the last few weeks. “Well, you’ve done well for yourself, haven’t you? If this were my office, I’d work every day.”

He laughed, unable to stop smiling. Still in disbelief that she was actually there, like a bolt of light into a room that didn’t know it was dim. “No you wouldn’t.”

She leaned over and kissed him like she’d always belonged in his life.

“I was going to pick you up,” he said.

“I know. I wanted to see you earlier. See where you actually spend your time.” She spun slowly in the middle of the room, eyeing the bookshelves, the windows, the skyline behind them.

“That’s nice,” he said, his eyes trailing her movement. “You want to go out?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “I want to treat you to something.”

Of course she did. He knew he wouldn’t let her, but he let her think she might. That was enough.

“They gave me a bonus,” she added like a secret, and her joy was so unfiltered it made him warm in a way expensive scotch never could. “So tell me, what’s your favorite food? Anything. Your pick.”

He blinked. A strange question. An ordinary one. And yet, no one had asked him that before. Not any of his previous girlfriends. Not anyone. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.

“I don’t think I have one.”

“Sure you do.”

He thought. “Bagel?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll get you one tomorrow. But right now we’re celebrating. And you can’t possibly expect me to toast with carbs and cream cheese.”

He laughed, grabbing his coat, reaching for his wallet and phone in one movement. She was already halfway to the door, talking about possible options. He didn’t care where they went. It was the sound of her voice he was listening to.

Downstairs, as they exited the elevator, the doorman— more doorboy by the looks of it— smiled at Catherine with surprising familiarity. “Have a lovely evening, Miss Ainsworth.”

Harry squinted. “How’d you already know the doorman?”

“My heels fell off my feet when I was running in, and he helped me.”

“And you introduced yourself?”

“He asked who I was here for. I told him I was visiting my very important boyfriend.”

He looked at her. She was completely serious.

They settled on steak. Something grounding and simple, because Harry just wanted her to eat something filling and proper. The wine was good, the conversation better. She told him about the BBC meeting, how she finally felt a strange type of peace. Then, in between bites of potato gratin, she mentioned wanting to throw a small gathering. A celebration, with her friends, maybe some musicians. She said she’d need his help setting it up.

Harry mentioned he had a gala to attend tomorrow, some industry networking thing. She should come with him, he said. She’d be happy to, she said.

By the time the check came, Harry had already slipped his card to the waiter. She made a fuss about it for exactly ten seconds before yawning mid-protest. They were barely in the car when her head fell against his shoulder and stayed there.

By the time they arrived at the penthouse, she was fully asleep.

He didn’t wake her. Just carried her upstairs. Still in disbelief, still grateful. The wine, untouched in its bag, sat quietly beside her coat.

He placed it on the table and turned off the lights. And for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t thinking about harps or deadlines.

Just sleep.

And maybe—if he was lucky—him.

⊹

His work gala came a day before her celebration party. 

Catherine was the first girlfriend he actually invited in a while. His exes rarely came, and if they did, they never bothered to pay attention to the conversations. After noticing that they might like to stay home, he stopped inviting them. They wouldn't be interested, he knew. He had never minded if his girlfriends were uninterested in his life, he’s convinced few actually did. He had seen relationships differently back then. But now he had the need to show his life to Catherine. And more, he wanted Catherine to go. So he asked her.

Catherine had been excited to go, more than he expected. Maybe it was because he told her that most of his friends were in the industry—men with cufflinks and practiced grins who only saw each other during events like this. 

The afternoon of, a few hours before they had to leave, he stepped out of the shower with a towel around his waist and steam still clinging to his skin. There it was, laid out across the bed like a gift—an unfamiliar suit. Sharp lines. Seamless work. Stitching so fine it was invisible. It was expensive. Probably more expensive than the ones he already owned, and those were nothing to scoff at.

He didn’t ask. He just stood there for a moment, towel dripping, a little stunned. Then smiled.

She must’ve taken one of his suits when he wasn’t paying attention, had copied the custom sizing and improved. She knew his measurements better than he did. He felt it in his gut again—that fluttery, maddening thing she kept making him feel. The one that settled somewhere behind his ribs and just… lingered.

He put the suit on. Of course it fits perfectly. Of course it did.

He found her in the walk-in closet, standing in front of the mirror in the middle of getting dressed. Her reflection caught him and she smiled, real and soft. Then she turned around, not fully zipped up.

“You look so handsome. I must say, I’m pretty darn good at this gift giving thing, huh? Turn around,” she said, biting back a grin, eyes flicking over the suit.

He laughed. It should’ve been the other way around, really. But he did as told, like a good man. Then after a second, he stepped closer and told her to turn instead. She obeyed.

His fingers zipped her up in silence, steady, deliberate. She smelled like flowers and that expensive hair oil she refused to admit was expensive. She hummed under her breath. He wondered, in the space between their bodies, how this became their life. How something this delicate could feel so certain.

The gala was held in a hotel ballroom dressed up to look like something finer. Marble floors, gold trim on the ceiling. A sweeping chandelier that no one really looked up at. It was for something or other—an annual event to recognize client milestones and corporate achievements, mostly a chance for industry types to see who was still around. There was always one or two names missing from the list. The gala was, if anything, a gentle reminder that the game never stopped.

This year felt different. He felt it before they even entered. Before they gave their names at the door and got a nod of recognition, before they were handed drinks. The room looked at him longer. Or maybe, most likely, they were looking at her.

Catherine wore a dark navy gown with a clean neckline and a fabric that glinted when she moved. Nothing loud. Just elegant. A single curl behind her ear. A slight flush on her cheeks—not nerves, just her usual color. She held his arm the way she always did, casual, natural. As if they’d been walking into rooms like this together forever.

The first twenty minutes passed in a blur of names and champagne. Harry shook hands while Catherine smiled and remembered every name. She charmed the bartender within minutes, said something complimentary about the way the napkins were folded. She complimented the color of a passing woman’s shoes. She leaned down to speak to a server holding a tray of miniature pastries and asked about some type of pastry he never bothered to know the name of.

Harry watched from a few feet away, sipping his drink. She made people feel like people. He was used to faces glossing over after the second glass, names forgotten, wives clinging to arms like accessories.

“Who’s this young lady?” one of his colleagues asked.

“Catherine, nice to meet you,” she said, offering her hand.

“Nice to meet you too, Catherine. I’m glad Harry finally found a girl who looks happy to be here.”

“I’m happy to come,” she said with a small laugh. “The chouquettes were so good I asked for the recipe.”

“My wife would love you. She runs a bakery.”

“Really? Is she here?”

“Somewhere. I’ll introduce you.”

And he did. Catherine was whisked away to meet her, and Harry let her go without protest. She was like that. A tide. Moving from one person to the next, leaving everyone warmer than before.

He found her again ten minutes later, deep in conversation with his friend’s wife about sustainable packaging in pastry boxes. And although Harry was huddled with his friends— or colleagues— his eyes trailed to her.

One of his single colleagues, predictably, was two glasses of whiskey in and smirking. He talked to Catherine only briefly a few moments ago, yet she managed to make an impression on him.

“Where’d you find her?” he asked, leaning in.

“Cold Spring,” Harry said.

“Does she have a friend?” Another one of his colleagues asked. One that already has a partner.

“You’re not gonna have luck with that, she befriended the whole of New York already. She already introduced herself to the caterers. Give her a few more hours and she’d memorized all the names in this room.”

They laughed. Someone refilled their drinks. Somewhere between the toasts and the polite speeches, Catherine returned to his side and whispered something about how good the wine was and how she loved that the pianist played actual classical pieces instead of mainstream songs with repetitive melodies. She clinked glasses with someone’s wife, told someone else they had a nice laugh which made them turn scarlet and laugh harder than anyone was supposed to on these occasions, and remembered the name of a woman Harry hadn’t seen in ten years.

He hadn’t thought about it before, but it struck him then— how perfectly she fit with his crowd even with her unusual approach. Not like someone pretending. Just like someone who didn’t need the world to change for her. She shaped herself around it and still managed to remain exactly who she was, and somehow, she belonged. He didn’t know how she did that. But he knew this: they’d remember her long after the next course. Long after the speeches. And if they didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. He would.

[versailleslamb]

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐑

Because I want to talk about him and also was inspired by @emmanation 's post abt coryo!! :3 also this is mainly him in my marauders dr..

Innnn first year? I think? yes, first year, for my birthday he got me a copy of Fantastic Mr Fox(peak literature), and I will NEVER EVER get rid of that, never.

ALSOOO in fourth year he got me a locket with photo of us inside that I really love that Prongsie took :33

He loves old muggle literature, and in first year he literally read Wuthering Heights aloud to me because the premise interested me but I struggled(still do) with big books.

Shares his cigarettes with me!!🙂‍↕️Not in the sense that he'll give me a full one, but at some point I'd pinched his off him to steal a puff so much that he just willingly offers.

Used to drink his tea obnoxiously sweet in first year, like atleast four sugars and milky, but it's somehow morphed into no sugar and very little milk since then, or black coffee even if he swears he doesn't like coffee.

ASHAMED OF HIS READING GLASSES💔🥀 He used to not even wear them around ME, and let me promise you, this man. Is. SO. Sexy. With glasses on. They're so dorky and sexy and adorable and GOSHHH, I LOVE THEM.

Let's me trace his deeper scars if we're alone, that's all I'll say abt that tho, sorry🙂‍↔️

Pretends to curse in Welsh when he's angry at someone, but he's speaking random nonsense because he's not very fluent.

Though he's rarely ever angry enough to shout or curse, usually he is the death stare type..

Clingy.. But doesn't like to initiate it too much, which is fine because I have no problem clinging to him every second.

Becomes ten times prouder of his heritage whenever Sirius or James talk about being English(English Quidditch teams, etc), turns stereotypically Welsh???(I do the same tho, 🇮🇪🇮🇪)

Let's me yap about Mary and Panda(my best friends btw!!), even though I know he DOES NOT GAF abt Mary's new bf(this womans comphet is crazy) and Pandoras new ghost friend, but he fully listens and takes it all in 😕😕

He's a textbook gentleman, even though he's very awkward about it, he's just awkward in general, will carry my bags, hold doors, saves my seat at the Gryffindor Table even though I'm in Hufflepuff :3

Makes a conscious effort to walk slower because his legs are so fucking long and if he doesn't he'll outrun me in three steps.

Andddddd bonus points for his existence because I can🙂‍↕️

[blainesebastian]

breathe

word count: 3,592 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: PG summary: (anon request, asthma attack) You allow your head to tip back as you rest against the car, trying to force yourself to take deep breaths. But the longer you stand there, the more it feels like a vice-like grip is wrapping around your throat. notes: gifs from here, original masterlist here, requests here.

You hate this time of year. 

You know most people are thrilled with the concept of spring, of winter months melting into warmth, flowers pushing through dense ground, snow flurries turning into rain showers—but you? 

You absolutely hate it. 

Not only does the humidity feel like a personal affront to you but who enjoys being overheated all the time? You’re not going to pretend that you don’t enjoy the pool, or wearing sundresses, or long walks with iced coffee or ice cream in hand. But…you’ve just always been someone who’s enjoyed Fall a lot more, Winter on her heels. With bundles of sweaters and carving pumpkins and the sun high in the sky turning orange leaves an amber color that reminds you of flecks in Nick’s eyes when the light hits them just right. 

You blame this entirely on growing up in New York, where springs and summers were often brutal against the concrete mapwork of buildings. It’s always been rather difficult with your allergies and asthma, the lack of strong breezes and high humidity constantly making things uncomfortable. 

The weather hasn’t reached that point yet in London. While it is, in fact, spring, the sun is bright but the air is slightly cool. Not yet disappearing into the heat that accompanies early summer. Which is why you don’t think twice when Nick invites you to watch one of Maddie’s games. 

You take an allergy tablet just in case before you leave Nick’s mom’s house, piling into a car with Nick driving, his mom in the passenger seat, you and Maddie in the backseat. It’s going to be a whole afternoon, spreading a blanket out on the bleachers, watching Maddie’s soccer team (hopefully) bring home a victory. While you’ve never been a big sports girl, either, you're definitely someone who loves to support. 

“I forgot my sign,” You tease Maddie with a grin, “It was bright pink with your name spelled out on the top, your number in the center.” 

Maddie giggles, her cheeks pink at being the center of attention. She shakes her head, “You really didn’t make a sign.” 

Not this time, but the next time you’re invited? Definitely. “It was huge, glitter letters and all.” 

You can see Nick shaking his head in amusement, smile on his handsome face in the rearview mirror. He adjusts his sunglasses, leaning back in his seat as he turns onto a dirt road that’ll lead to the field where Maddie is going to play. 

“We’ll just have to embarrass you the old fashioned way,” He tells his sister, “By yelling.” 

Nick’s mom chuckles, covering her mouth with a hand when Maddie begins to protest but the entire car can see right through her. She’s thrilled that her big brother is here, that he’s going to watch her play. She looks at Nick like he’s hung the moon…and honestly, you totally understand that notion. 

Nick pulls the car into park, his mom and Maddie getting out to start heading to the field so she can meet up with her coach and team. You watch her look over her shoulder a few times, like she can’t quite believe that her brother is here to cheer her on. You know it’s been a rough road of Nick’s mother allowing him to be here, so you can’t help but smile. You turn towards the trunk and lean against the tail light, curling your hair around your ear. When your boyfriend joins you, pulling out a blanket, you lean over and plant a kiss on his cheek. 

“What’s that for?” He asks, giving you a soft smile. 

“Oh, I need a reason? You don’t like random kisses without—”

Nick gathers your shirt into his fingers, using the momentum to tug you forward so he can wrap an arm around you. He then leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, making you laugh softly, but your arms wind around his neck like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. 

“Just as I suspected.” You tease, resting your hand against his chest. Your fingers play with the familiar silver chain against his t-shirt. 

He hums, his hand rubbing your lower back before he takes a small step away. He continues to pull things from the trunk and you lean your body against the car, watching him for a moment. 

“Maddie is so happy you’re here,” You tell him, your voice now warm in amusement, “Think it might even be a bigger deal than the sign I was going to make.” 

He laughs softly, which is mostly air leaving his nose. “Yeah, she’s excited.” He closes the trunk, holding onto a tote bag filled with water, snacks, and other odds and ends to get through a long soccer game. 

“I’m proud of you,” You tell him, your hand reaching out to run along his arm. “I know it’s not always easy with…Lion flashing fight opportunities in your face and Ronnie being incapable of shutting his mouth when we’re at the underground,” You shake your head, Nick shifting so that his hand finds yours. He gives you a soft squeeze. 

“Ronnie doesn’t bother me.” He replies gently, as if he needs to comfort you. And that’s just…typical Nick. You’re giving him a compliment, trying to tell him you understand how rough it’s been, and he turns it around to offer you assurances right back. 

You purse your lips, “I dunno, he seemed like he was getting under your skin the last time we were there.” 

Nick makes an affronted noise, rolling his eyes as he playfully tugs you towards the field where the bleachers are, “That’s because he wouldn’t stop making comments at you.” 

You squeeze his hand back and pull your sunglasses out of your bag, sliding them onto your face. The breeze is a welcome kiss to your warm skin under the sun, your sneakers trailing through the grass and disrupting dandelions and bugs alike. Drawing in a deep breath, you crinkle your nose at the smell of freshly cut grass and turn your head to cough gently into your shoulder. Definitely not as rough as you've experienced in New York. You’re glad you’ve never been the one to play any sports that happen outside, the last thing you’d need is to have an asthma attack from running up and down the sidelines as the game progresses. 

“You alright?” Nick asks nonetheless, pausing once you get to the bleachers. 

“Yeah,” You smile. “I love spring.” 

He smirks gently, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb over the bone. “I know. If you need to go to the car at any point, let me know.” An offer of an oasis to escape the heat and pollen for a bit if needed—because while the temperature right now isn’t too bad? You know it’s supposed to get a bit warmer as the day goes on. 

You hold onto his hand to help you onto the bleachers, finding a spot near the middle to spread a blanket out to sit. Nick’s mom stays down by the sidelines, watching the girls warm up. You smile as Maddie passes the soccer…or rather, the football, between players, the whistle eventually being blown to start the game. You lean against Nick’s side as he cheers for his sister, every so often he leans over and explains a play to you. 

He brushes his lips along your temple, stealing a kiss when he can. 

Overall? It’s a pretty nice afternoon, even though the temperature ticks up a few notches and despite the fact that your phone has been vibrating every so often with your mother calling. You have half a mind to put it on Do Not Disturb, but you’ve never been one to put yourself first. Even when you know you should. She knows that you’re with Nick and his mother, watching his sister’s game. So the fact that she won’t stop just tells you that she’s aware of that fact too. She knows you’ll eventually pick up, even if just to stop the insistent ringing. 

Letting out a soft sigh, you tug your phone out of your pocket. Nick, seeing the screen, presses a circle into your lower back. “Want me to pick up?” 

A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth because you know he would, that he’d handle an uncomfortable phone call for you so you didn’t have to. It’s not a secret why your mother is calling, it’s part of the reason you were all too happy to get away for the weekend, just to avoid another conversation in which the same things are said. 

“No,” You grimace, “Thank you though. She’ll just keep calling until I answer.” You stand from the bleachers, “I’ll be right back.” 

Nick nods, his eyes following you towards the direction of the car before he turns his attention back to Maddie’s soccer game. You press the green button, hovering in the grass for a few moments before, 

“Geez mom, I didn’t move to another country. You know I’m just with Nick visiting his mom and sister for the weekend.” 

You can hear the eyeroll in her response, “Well, hello to you too Y/N. I wouldn’t need to consistently call if you just picked up the first time.” 

“One voicemail is just as effective as nine.” You mumble, knowing she attempted to leave messages as well but…you’re not sure how much more obvious you can be. You don’t want to talk to her right now. You know what she’s going to say. 

“Your brother’s fiancee has picked out the colors for the wedding, seems like it’s a midnight blue.” 

You shake your head, biting down on the inside of your cheek. “Isn't it bad enough that I have to attend the wedding, let alone be in it?” 

It’s not a secret that you’re not close with your brother, but beyond that? He decided to marry someone who’s just as awful as he is. You want nothing to do with this wedding, but appearances have always been important to your family. And that’s all this wedding is: one big showboat appearance. It won’t be ruined by you or anyone else. 

“Don’t start,” Your mother warns, “You either come back with a smile and a helping hand in planning this wedding or you won’t be allowed to bring a plus-one.” 

You still, your eyes flitting over to where the bleachers are, lingering on Nick cheering for his sister. Your mother knows how much you want—no, need to bring Nick along as your date. You’ve been depending on that emotional support for this wedding that you want nothing to do with. You know it might seem silly to someone who doesn’t understand, but Nick’s always been your person. He’s been there for you through some of your worst moments over the past few years. 

It hurts that your mother is willing to hold that above your head, to threaten your participation like this. 

“I’m serious, Y/N. Tell me you understand.”  

You swallow a sharp gasp, your hand resting on your sternum as your chest begins to feel tight. Closing your eyes for a moment, you lean against the car that Nick drove up here. “I understand.” 

You’re unsure whether your mom says other things, you end the call as words begin to drown out anyways. You wish you could say you were surprised that she took a perfectly relaxing day and ruined it, it’s practically part of her resume as a mother. You allow your head to tip back as you rest against the car, trying to force yourself to take deep breaths. But the longer you stand there, the more it feels like a vice-like grip is wrapping around your throat. 

No, no, no. You shake your head, patting your pockets for your inhaler. You’re not even sure if that’ll help, can’t tell if you’re having a panic attack or if this upsetting situation has triggered your asthma. Either way? You hate the feeling of helplessness, your ribs feeling like they’re closing in on one another, like two hands lacing their fingers together. 

Tugging your phone back out of your pocket, you send a quick text to Nick, 

Y/N: can you bring me my bag? I’m by the car. 

Closing your eyes, you count to ten, and by the time you get to eight, you can hear Nick approach. He’s already reaching inside your bag for your inhaler, passing it over and using the keys to unlock the car if you need a place to sit. The fact that he’s so thoughtful takes your breath away sometimes. A pun that you’d probably laugh about if you weren’t having so much trouble. 

God. You totally blame this on your mother. You were dealing with being outside and spring just fine before she called. Having a puff, you close your eyes, holding the medicine in your lungs for a few moments in hopes it’ll open you up. 

“You alright?” Nick asks, soothing his hand along your shoulder blades. “I can start the car, put the air on.” 

You shake your head, letting out a slow breath. Your chest doesn’t feel as tight as before, but the wheezing lingers, a rattle beginning at the back of your throat when you breathe out. It should pass, you just need a few minutes to right yourself. 

“You know, this is all my mother’s fault.” You cough, covering your mouth with your arm. 

Nick’s jaw ticks. His hand moves from your shoulders to thread through your hair, pushing it behind your back. He then rubs his thumb along your neck, “Yeah, from experience she does seem to bring out the worst in people.” 

You open your eyes, your gaze landing on your boyfriend beside you. His eyes are warm and concerned on your face, that constant level of support unwavering with anything you’ve ever needed him for. When you first met Nick, you never would have guessed ending up here with him. He was a bit cocky, guarded, kept people at a distance. It wasn’t until you got to know him that you learned how protective he could be about those that he cared about, that he was thoughtful, sweet, kind. 

It’s something you love more about him every day. 

Nick tugs the car keys from his pocket, unlocking the door before pulling the passenger one open. “Sit for a few minutes.” 

You rub your knuckles against your sternum, “I’m okay.” 

He squeezes the back of your neck, “Just humor me,” He offers a small smile, “C’mon.” 

Letting out a soft sigh, you nod, sitting down sideways in the passenger seat. Admittedly, it does feel a bit better to do that, stretching your legs out in front of you. You’re not supposed to take so many puffs this close together, but you have one more, holding your breath for a long few moments before letting it out. Nick lingers, not once turning his attention away from you. 

Guilt eats at your stomach, “You should get back to the game, I’ll be fine in a bit.” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t like the sound of your breathing, I’m not leaving you.” 

You want to playfully roll your eyes and tell him he’s worried for nothing but you can already tell that the tightness in your chest, which has gone down significantly, isn’t about to disappear like you wanted to. The combination of humidity, pollen and the added stress of your mother calling has pushed your body in a direction that’s difficult to pull back from. When five minutes pass and nothing changes…

Nick pushes himself up from leaning against the car, “Alright, I’m going to take you to the A&E.” 

A laugh bubbles out of your throat, reaching to grab the sleeve of his jacket, “No, Nick. I don’t need an emergency room. I’m—” 

“If you say that you’re okay, I’m going to lose it.” He warns, running a hand over the lower half of his face. 

You purse your lips, “Well I was going to say peachy, so.” 

Nick’s mouth twitches and he shakes his head, finally looking over his shoulder at the game while you cough. “Alright, if you’re not going to let me take you anywhere, can we at least go to the first-aid tent that they have? Might be something there that can help.” 

You tilt your head up to look at him and with the concern so clearly printed on his handsome face, how can you deny him that? He looks like he’s not going to take ‘no’ as an answer anyway, even despite everything being formed as a question. 

“Alright,” You huff, taking the hand he offers you to help you out of the car. “Only because you’re close to pouting.” 

“Brat,” He mutters through his teeth even though his voice is affectionate. 

Nick leads you towards the tent down the field, patient when you have to pause every so often because you’re a bit short of breath. And alright, maybe he is making a good point that you need to check in with someone so it doesn’t get any worse. You’re so used to handling things on your own that it’s still surprising when someone wants to look out for you, take care of you, like Nick does. 

Getting to the first-aid tent isn’t difficult and once you’re underneath, the people working there are kind and supportive. When they hear you’re having some trouble breathing from asthma, they set you up with a portable nebulizer, sitting you down with a breathing treatment. You close your eyes as you wrap your lips around the misting tube, drawing in deep breaths and holding them in every so often to allow the medicine to work. 

Nick hovers, his hand rubbing up and down your back in a soothing motion. You reach for his hand, squeezing his fingers and once you get his attention, you motion towards the soccer field with your chin, 

“Go watch the rest of the game.” 

He shrugs his one shoulder, “It’s almost over, Maddie’s team is winning.” 

Your hand snakes down to smack the back of his leg, “Nick Leister, I swear to god,” You laugh but it ends up a cough. “If you love me, you’ll go.” 

Nick narrows his eyes, “That’s a low blow.” He leans down and playfully pinches your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. He steals a kiss before pulling away, encouraging the breathing treatment back towards your mouth. 

You watch him wander out of the tent, running towards his mom who is still on the sidelines watching Maddie play. You allow your eyes to close, taking deep and even breaths for ten minutes until your chest no longer feels like it’s being squeezed together. You actually feel a lot better, thanking the person who checks your vitals. 

Standing from the chair, you smile as you see Maddie rush across the field when the game is called, a bunch of whistles blowing to signal the end. She rushes right towards her brother and Nick crouches low to pick her up in a spinning hug to celebrate. This is what you wanted to make sure he didn’t miss. He might not have seen the entire game, but at least she knows he was there to witness some of the important parts. 

Exiting the tent, you take a few steps towards them, Maddie grabbing onto Nick’s hand once she’s back on the grass and running. She tugs him right along, only slowing down when she makes it to you. 

“Y/N!” She exclaims, hugging you tightly around the waist. You laugh lightly, crouching a little to give her a proper hug back. “Nick said you were sick.” 

You wince, looking down at her. You smile at the wildness of her hair coming out of her braids and carefully pluck some grass that’s ended up in her bangs, “Yeah, I’m sorry. I think I missed the second half of your game.” 

And you do feel bad about that but at the very least, Maddie doesn’t seem too pressed. She just grins up at you with a goofy smile, “You’ll just have to come to my next one.” 

A soft laugh leaves your lips, “Well in that case, the sign that I made is going to have to be redone. Twice as big.” 

She giggles and even though she’s shaking her head, she says, “Yes!” 

Some of the girls on Maddie’s team call her name back to the field and you’re not sure whether they’re going to celebrate or take a group picture or what, but Maddie grins at her brother and rushes past him to do just that. 

“Suddenly you’re chopped liver.” You tease Nick but he’s smiling, glad that his sister is happy, that she’s thrilled that all the important people that could support her were here today. “Stale bread,” You continue and he purses his lips, reaching for you, “Day old coffee.” 

A giggle bubbles from your lips as he tugs you close, wrapping his arms around you. Despite the heat and humidity, you lean closer, circling your arms around his shoulders. Your nose nuzzles his in a bunny kiss, your lips brushing against his own when you speak again. 

“Lucky for you, I like some of those things.” 

He raises his eyebrows, “Yeah? The chopped liver, hmm?” 

You grin, “Something like that.” You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Thank you for helping me today.” 

Nick lifts his hand, cupping your cheek, “Always.” 

[love-marimo]

Lover Girl (Luffy x Fem!Reader | Highschool AU)

Lolita's Note: my friends. i am back to writing! after months of yapping and yapping on this blog, i decided to get my ass back into actually writing. i realize i have already written two separate fics on sanji and zoro and luffy is the only one out of the monster trio that i havent dedicated a fic to (yes i love them cant u tell?)! im channeling my inner lover girl for this fic and make it as cringe as possible, so if you find reader to be too sweet and giddy, my apologies 😭

featuring: usopp, nami, chopper, and a mention of nojiko and the asl brothers ღ'ᴗ'ღ

as always, requests are open ! ★

ー inspired by laufey's new song of the same title (i love her so much) ♡

cw: none, just some silly high school fluff with our ball of sunshine (▱˘◡˘▱)

There has been a lot on your mind lately, but one person lives rent free in your head, and you want to know if you deserve a chance with him…

"Dear Luffy, I hope you don't mind me writing this to you. I like-"

Crumple.

"Hey Luffy-"

Crumple.

"Hi :) I love-"

Crumple.

"How am I gonna tell him?!" You buried yourself under your pillows and groaned in frustration. There are too many crumpled papers for you to count scattered on your bed yet here you are, trying to write a love letter that won't be embarrassing enough in case your friends find it. Your mind is in shambles. You still have an algebra assignment waiting for you at your desk. You think about your classmate that you've admired since 7th grade. You wonder if you should even write a letter to secretly hide under his desk. But then, will he ever find it? Or should you just go the classic route, wait for Valentine's and confess to him?

"This is just so dumb." You mutter to yourself, counting on your fingers the reasons why you shouldn't feel this way in the first place. "Why do I even like him anyway? He's stupid and makes childish jokes. He's noisy and never pays attention to class. He's always with Usopp doing random things, and god, he always does pranks on Chopper!"

But then you smile to yourself, clutching a pillow to your chest. "But he's also kind. And honest. And funny. And he's really cute when he smiles… gosh!" You squeal and giggle, recounting the many times you hear him laugh.

Your lovestruck thoughts were cut off by an angry older sister barging into your room.

"What the heck are you doing screaming and laughing to yourself? Go do your homework!" Nami, who's in her senior year angrily nags at you.

"Sorry." You pouted, getting up to sit on your desk and do what she said.

"What was it all about anyway? And why do you have so many crumpled papers on your bed?" She walked over curiously to read all the failed love letters you tried to write.

"Wait, no don't look!" But it was too late.

Nami pauses for a moment, shocked, then turns to look at you and laughs out loud.

"Seriously? You have a crush on Luffy out of all people?" You turn to her with a blush on your face, which makes your sister laugh even more.

"Oh my god. I need to tell Nojiko about this." Grabbing her phone, Nami giggles as she collects all the notes to read.

"Don't tell anyone in school! Please…"

"What do you like about him, though? He looks like someone who'll get robbed easily."

"He's not that gullible!!" You furrowed your brows, disagreeing.

"Look at you, huffing and puffing and defending him." She teases, pinching your cheek playfully.

"The truth is, I don't know how to confess to him." You sighed, hitting your head on your desk.

"Just give him a burger or something. That boy loves meat above anything else. Or you can ask Usopp to give him your letter." She says, stepping out of your room while calling Nojiko, your eldest sister who's away for college.

You didn't sleep well that night, because after finishing your assignment, you resumed in crafting the most acceptable love letter hoping that Luffy won't cringe or laugh at. You contemplated the color of the envelope to put the letter in but settled with a plain white one, so that it won't be obvious.

You were determined to confess to him, because you just can't take it anymore, and you want to get this over with, wholeheartedly expecting rejection.

The next day went by like normal. You made sure to wear your lucky charm before heading out. And at school, Luffy was being restless again, and teachers nagged on him like usual.

"Luffy and Usopp, pay attention to class! And Luffy, did I not tell you to stop bringing that strawhat?" Your teacher said angrily. Luffy quickly stuffed the strawhat in his bag, and the class snickered at him. The two obeyed the teacher, but looked at each other constantly trying to hold their laughs.

Lunch break came, and you're at the canteen contemplating what to buy for Luffy. Then you remembered what Nami told you last night. So, you settled for a burger and a can of soda.

"Please find the burger with the biggest patty." You told the lady behind the counter.

"Here you go." She said, smiling.

You thanked her and proceeded to wait for the Luffy, Usopp and Chopper at their usual spot. You made sure to catch Usopp first, so you can secretly give him your little gift to Luffy without being direct.

"Okay. Here goes." You whisper to yourself as you approached him.

"Psst, hey, Usopp!" You called to him when Luffy went to the bathroom.

"Oh, hey! What is it?" He waved, unassuming.

"Can you give this to Luffy?" You handed the food with the neatly glued envelope to the unsuspecting long-nose.

"What's this for?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Umm…"

And before you can tell a well-thought out lie, a familiar voice rings behind you.

"For me!!" Luffy giggles, taking the burger without hesitation.

"What's that?" Chopper peeks behind him, pointing at the envelope.

All the three turned their eyes on your letter, which was neatly written on a pastel pink scented paper. And that's when you realized you may have made the most stupid decision in your teenage life.

And you had to do something about it.

In a blur, you grabbed the envelope from Chopper, and dragged Luffy somewhere quiet. You didn't care where it is, your looming embarrassment makes you want the ground to eat you alive and get it over with.

"Hey!" The unknowing boy laughs, "What are we doing? Is this some secret game?"

"Open it." You look down, voice suddenly stern ー an attempt to save yourself from your rapidly beating heart, and a face blushing heavily that you wonder if he'll laugh at you if you look at him like that.

"Hmm… Let's see… Luffy, thank you for existing… Luffy…"

"You don't have to read it out loud!"

"Oh, okay. Sorry." He looks at you for a moment, and reads your letter carefully.

There's a moment of silence between you. It was overwhelming. You can't help but feel like you're waiting to be jumpscared in a horror movie. It's laughable, really. You pray that nobody else sees you in this state.

So when you do look at him, you find him staring at you. He calls your name.

"Yes?" You smile shyly, hoping he got the message as you wait for his reply.

I wonder what he'll say… you think a monologue to yourself trying not to smile like a fool.

"What does this mean?" He asks, as if he just read the most complex calculus equation.

It felt like somebody shattered a glass in your mind, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your expression… couldn't be drawn. You don't know if you'll cry, laugh or be mad at him in disbelief.

"Wh-what?"

"This letter. I don't understand it." He says, as a matter of fact. Because it's true. He has never received a love letter. And he's seen some words he's never encountered before. He has a rough idea of what you meant, but just to be sure, he asks again.

"Are you kidding me?!" You asked yourself more than you wanted to ask him. You fell to your knees, muttering words to yourself.

"Whoa, are you okay?" He kneels beside you.

"What is it that you don't get?" You ask, in a disappointed whisper.

"Well there's this word… uhh… bree…breeyath… brathta-"

"Breathtaking."

"And this one! A… adooray?"

"Adore."

"Oh and this one too-"

"Right. You can't read."

Now you wonder how he's in the same grade as you.

You heaved a sigh, composing yourself. Then you sat him on a bench and placed your hands on his shoulder, looking at him intently.

With his wide, childlike eyes, he smiles. Oh, that dumb smile that you fell for the first time you saw him…

"Listen. I'm going to say this once, okay?"

He nods.

"I. Like. You." You say slowly, making sure he understands you this time.

He blinked. Then he gasps.

"Oh!!! I get it now. You have a crush on me."

"Yes."

"So that means we are dating!"

"No!" You face palm. "I mean… if you feel the same way…" You say bashfully in a whisper.

"Well, I don't mind! What do people do when they date?" He pauses, finger on his chin, thinking hard.

"Luffy, this is not a game! God, you don't know what you're doing to me."

"What do you mean? I've heard Ace say that dating is fun. It's what adults do!" He laughs, as if he discovered an interesting hobby to do.

"It's not that easy! We're literally teenagers. And besides when you date you… k-ki…"

"Kiss!" He beams, like it's a great idea that popped in his head.

"Stop!!" He laughs in response, finding joy in your blushing state.

"Hey guys! We've been looking for you everywhere. What happened to her, Luffy?" Usopp called.

"Oi!! I have something to tell you." Luffy walks towards them, proudly showing off the letter you wrote for him.

"She made this for me! The burger had the biggest patty I've eaten in a while, too."

Chopper and Usopp shared a glance, then with a teasing look on their face, walked over to you.

"So that's why you suddenly disappeared on us." Usopp laughed, poking your cheek.

"Did you kiss? Did you kiss?" Chopper pinched your other cheek, giggling with the other boy. You closed your eyes in defeat. Luffy laughed at you, handing you the soda you gave him.

"Here you can have this. Thanks for the burger! I owe you one."

"But I bought this for you." You tried to reject it. But the smile on your face says otherwise.

"It's okay, if you want we can share." He suddenly has two straws and handed one to you.

"I have an idea!" Chopper suddenly placed a handkerchief on your head, took the soda can from your hand, and replaced it with Luffy's hand instead.

"Oooh, what's this?" Luffy curiously asked, casually taking your hand as ordered by Chopper.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you took it all in you not to pass out with it.

"Reverend Usopp, please read the rite of passage to consecrate this union." Chopper said in a lower voice, holding the soda can up in the air.

Then the realization hit you.

"Wait… are we simulating a marriage right now?" You stammered with a beet red face, and a mind going in shambles.

"What?" Luffy asked, dumbfounded.

This handkerchief… is supposed to be a veil… and I'm holding his hands right now… I feel like I'm going crazy!

Usopp improvised some sort of deeply worded paragraph, copying a priest. You stared into the distance, and all Luffy could think about is drinking the soda with you.

"Mr. Monkey D. Luffy, do you take her as your wife?" Chopper asked.

"Hey, give us the soda! I'm parched-" Luffy tried to reach for the drink,

"Just say, "I do.", you idiot! You're ruining the moment." Usopp punched him in the head. Luffy muttered out a weak apology while saying,

"I… do."

Chopper then turned to you and asked the same question.

"I… I'm not ready-" Usopp cut you off and tried to mimic your voice.

"I do~"

"Hey!"

"Then you may now kiss the bride! But let's keep this PG. Please enjoy the unifying potion for newlywed couples, the holy water!" Chopper proudly said, opening to soda can and inserting the two straws for the both of you to drink out of.

You burst into laughter. "What? Holy water? Chopper, you have a crazy imagination."

"St-stop praising me, stupid! It doesn't make me happy at all, birdbrain." He huffed out annoyingly at first, then smiled, giggling.

"I taught him well." Usopp said suavely, satisfied with himself.

"It wasn't a compliment, though." You replied, unimpressed.

"Hey, can we drink it now?" Luffy tapped your shoulder.

"Oh, um… okay." You opened the soda can and inserted the two straws.

"So, what was that about?" He nonchalantly asked after taking a sip.

"You don't know how a marriage ceremony works?" He shrugged in reply. Chopper and Usopp cheered in the background, humming marriage music together and laughing.

"Well, just think of it like dating." You looked away.

"Okay!" He smiled, drinking the last bit of soda.

"Whew, that was refreshing!" Absentmindedly taking your hand to walk you back to the classroom. He doesn't realize it, but you didn't miss the way his cheeks were slightly reddish, and his laughs more giddy.

You hope to yourself that he doesn't change ー that he remains to be this carefree guy who's always up for an adventure. You wonder what's on his mind, what he wants to be when he grows up, and most of all, if the future he dreams about includes you.

Now, for the million dollar question: are you two dating now?

Well… it's not as complicated as you make it out to be. He accepted your confession, and he's more than willing to try, even if this is his first time experiencing what young love feels like. It's foreign to him, but it's new.

And to him, new is always something to look forward to.

The bell rang, and it was time to go home. Usopp went ahead to Chopper's classroom because he promised to treat him to some ramen after school.

"I'll leave you two lovebirds." He waved, and you and then parted ways.

"What do you want to do now?" Luffy asks.

"I have to be home before five. Nami doesn't want me out pretty late."

"What?! Nami's your sister?" He asked, feeling a chill run down his spine.

"Yeah, do you still want to be my boyfriend?" You chuckle, expecting his reaction.

"Well… I still owe her money…" He looked away, scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh… so that's why she knows you… For what, though? Did you ask her to tutor you or something?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"From now on, let's help each other study. I'm good with Math! In exchange, we have to go on dates every weekend." You suggested.

"Deal. Where do we go?" He replied excitedly.

"I'm working part-time at a flower shop near the docks. You've always liked ships, right?"

"I do!" He looked at you with sparkling eyes, and you smiled.

"I'll talk to Franky and see if I can make you work for him. He's a really cool shipwright."

"I can't wait! I have to tell about us to my brothers."

"I hope they'll like me."

"Of course they will!"

You held hands on the way home, telling each other stories about whatever. Luffy walked you to your house, and bid you goodbye.

"Wait, before you go…" You grabbed his arm and kissed him on the cheek.

Luffy's eyes widened, his chest suddenly feeling tight. Then he smiled, waving at you. "See you tomorrow!"

You waved back in reply, with your back facing him, as you ran towards your home, not believing how you just did that.

When you opened the door, you found your sister smirking by the stairs.

"Guess it went well, huh. He's such a simpleton." Nami teased.

"Don't call him that! I think… he likes me back." You giggled bashfully.

"Yeah, because you probably gave him food. That guy will go along with anything that he finds interesting."

"Curse you." You glared at her, heading towards your room, and Nami just laughs in reply.

Ever since then, you sat with the three of them during lunch. Luffy will sit next to you during class, and he did his best to pay attention, even asking you about things he doesn't understand.

During weekends, he does what you both promised each other. Franky quickly became friends with him, even if he's clumsy at work. The owner of the flower shop teases you every time he's finished with his shift and waits for you outside.

When you have enough money saved up, you go to amusement parks, the cinemas ー anywhere that the city can offer you. Sometimes he'll surprise you with little trinkets he bought or made himself, and you'll always keep it, no matter how silly.

Laughs are shared, and sometimes you cry together over the stupidest things. Luffy's notorious for being the troublemaker, but with you, he got a little tamed. He'd cut classes less often, he participates during discussions, and one time he even went to school with slicked back hair, and everyone made fun of him but he didn't care. Everyone likes him either way, because he makes them laugh, and hearing it especially from you fills his heart with even more joy. He helps out kids who are bullied, and teachers love making him do errands despite being always annoyed by his antics.

The precious strawhat that he never lets anyone wear, have found its way on your head. He will let you wear it especially during summer days, telling you that Chopper told him that the summer sun is bad for your skin.

It's these little things that made you realize that you didn't really make a bad decision that day. You tell yourself that the embarrassment was worth it, even though you frequently fight over food.

And before you know it, the happy-go-lucky simpleton who never understood what it's like to confess your love to someone and never really cared for that matter, now glows brighter with you.

ー Lolita

[pvnks0ul]

Random knightess!riri headcannons

sypnosis: based off a fic i was going to make❤️‍🩹

⚠︎: princess!reader, small age gap, Riri is mean + reader is a lil annoying, made up country, medieval period, a lil suggestive, !amateur writing!

⚔︎ Knight!Riri is strict, stubborn & arrogant. And she's proud to admit it, never afraid to showcase her skills or set someone– even of higher status, straight.

She might not be the strongest but in her opinion there's a long history behind her theory that her technique will carry her further then thier brawn.

Which is exactly why she was handpicked by your father to train the newer errants who don't know what their place is in the battle. Alot of the recruits are loudmouthed freshfaced men whom always tried to underwhelm her power and that just so happened to be her favorite type to humble.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri is just about the same age as most of the initiates she works with and the ones who dont look down on her, try to take advantage of that fact thinking they'll find a soft side to her but no matter the intention she's quick to shut them down and it's cruel how she crushes their spirit but she's a firm believer that if you came here for anything if not to serve than this is not the place for you.

Poor trainees get shut down swiftly and curt, even if it means they'll revert to hating her in the end.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri is exceptionally proud of her well–kept stead.

Though, a well groomed horse is not the most important thing for a grandmaster to be worried about, it's something about her horse standing out from the rest in every factor from the copper red tinted hooves to it's wavy silk like mane she brushed throughout the day, so smooth that even the finest tooth comb would slip through knotfree, that makes pride swell in her chest. She likes to spend any extra free-time taking good care of her ride before anything else.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri doesn't come to make friends but she sure to show respect to all who work in the district under, above and anything inbetween the kingdom.

They are her peers after all.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri who reluctantly still guards the inner kingdom when threats are made or a battle has just been concluded. She believes she is best at use on the field, making a plan and giving commands but she can see the point in how keeping the power, her, where the most precious of jewels to the royal family lie, would be beneficial.

You always hated it because she would purposely guard around your quaters. She's chevalier, been in battle countless times before so why does your father order her here?

⚔︎ Knight!Riri ticks you off to the highest amount.

But you were nary the difference for her, you called her riri instead of her full name, Riana, knowing she didn't like it..while she makes it her personal mission to put you in her place– well as respectfully she could considering her own placement.

She's the worst kind of bossy in your opinion. It's like she never let's you breathe, always has a smug "I think you know better than to try that again." when you're doing something that you're not supposed to but in your opinion she's nobody to be able to guide you. Who does she think she is? The whole cotillion board? You stop in your tracks before turning a sharp 180. Brows furrowed and gown pinched between your pointer & thumb as your marched it over to her to tell her off; most of what you say goes in one ear and out the other but it really made her day to see you try n' insult her because it just wasn't in your fancy ass blood.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri might mock you but she does not entertain the tantrums you love to throw. Especially when you shove or push taking advantage of the fact that she's sworn to never hit you back..which is something you'd think a princess would be above but not your spoiled self.

It makes her sick to think about how ill–behaved you are, she'd be sure to ease it into a conversation the next time she catches up with the king.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri doesnt think a princess has to be meek or dependent but in your case submission, etiquette, and gratitude toward your elders & servicemen would do some good.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri who confronts your father and is surprised the usually froward king agrees with her ; that you need to be teached obedience & discipline. Your mouth was a nonstop chatter box, spitting out any annoying or disrespectful rhetoric that'd been eating away at you.

You were disgracing your families values and Riri couldn't stand to see it no longer. It's about time someone shut you up.

What ⚔︎ Knight!Riri didn't expect was for daddy dearest to appoint her as said teacher..

⚔︎ Knight!Riri who's normally stoic expression is replaced with one of distress. The king only lifts a shrubby brow as the silence passes.

she accepts but it's not as if there was much of a choice.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri gets very pouty & mopey the next day while choosing a substitute for her errants despite that being the number one peeve she had about you... How hypocritical.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri learns the hard way that you'd been made aware of the arrangement while making her rounds past your corridor.

She’d made a whole schedule; day 1: obedience, day 2: respect, day 3: selflessness and so on. Each day a different lesson that would install skills Riri figured would help you but the only thing you did was turn your head up at her, ready with an argument to everything she said even if it made sense.

On day 4 ⚔︎ Knight!Riri is taken over a point of no return with all your acting out.

You'd locked your door, and from the jingling that followed everytime she tried to push in, you set the latch too.

She huffs, "I will not ask again, Princess."

You giggle, making quick work to unlock the window and sliding out as best you could. You pushed yourself up off the stern wooden desk that'd just been built for you.

"If I come in there and get you, there'll be real consequences." Riri tries to remain calm but you were really pushing it, once again. Like you always do.

You slam the window down so hard the frame shakes but you didn't have time to care, she sounded serious and you didn’t want to be around to deal with it.

Once off the roof, you managed to escape down the emergency ladder but your outside slippers made the climb feel dangerous.

Riri nods, "So fucking be it.", she turns around and walks a few feet away before taking a deep breath in. If you wanted to play like this why should she be fair?

Thats exactly how one of your doors laid flat in your room, the screws busted and the wood cracked from where she'd kicked it.

Riri shakes her head, boiling at how outrageous you were. She scoures your room, looking under your bed, in your closet and ironically knocking on your bathroom door before opening.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri can faintly make out whistling of some sort, her head snaps up and she draws together it was from a cracked window, the wind blowing through the small curves making the sound.

When she stands directly under, her eyes catch the specks of dirt on your wooden desk and she can connect the dots.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri followed behind every loose end you made, the muddy track of your slippers, the fabric of your dress that got caught by a thorn bush as you tried to rush pass but most importantly the humming nearing the entrance of the town.

She speeds up, darting for your figure just as you’d stepped into the street.

Your presence is noticed upon breach. Fortunately, the only person looking your way happened to be a very small girl, a lollipop the size of her head in one hand as she held tightly to her mamas hand.

You smile, how adorable she was, and wave. The girls eyes nearly pop out her skull when she realizes why you looked so familiar, she tugs on her mother’s arm and points in your direction with her sucker.

Your body feels like it's been hit with your daddys biggest carriage as your brought to your knees in the tall grass beside where you were originally standing.

You knew exactly who it was when you seen the tight black shirt she wears under her armour. You groan, "How dare you? Get off me THIS INS–"

“Shh, shhh, shut up!”, Riris voice whispers aggressively to you. Despite the fire roaring in her to teach you a lesson then and there, she remains careful with your body as she crouched.

You make a sound of frustration, struggling and squirming in her arms, you demanded, “Riri! Riri, let me—“

She presses her hand tighter to your mouth, “I said be quiet.” In your true ignorant fashion, you tried to fight her off but her hold is solid, you weren’t moving unless she wanted you too.

You grow tired quickly, she wins this time.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri is surprised you don’t try to escape again on the walk back but her guard remains up.

Your heart dips, unable to fathom why you decided to listen to her but continuing to walk in front of her with your head held down in shame, nonetheless.

Riri lectures you in a cold tone, scolding you for being wreckless and leaving burns as she digged at you for how dangerous climbing off a roof was. You knew you deserved it but, the embarrassment of being caught eventually catches up to you.

“Do you wish to be robbed? Kidnapped? Taken for ransom? Why? You did all of that just to get under my skin?” She’s furious and you can hear the venom regurgitating from all the stress you were causing.

You shrug. A tear falls, then two. You’re not sure what you were thinking, you just wanted to see if she would actually be able to find you. You sniffle and the sound alerts Riri. She cringes and stops in place, her hand grabbing your arm to stop you as well.

“Speak.” She encourages anyway.

You roll your eyes and dab your cheeks with the cloth of your dirty gown. Your mind a mess but the only thing you ask is, “Ah-Are you going to tell my father? Is that my punishment?”

Riri pretends to think as your sad eyes laid upon her, “Yes. I think I will..”

"Besides it's only right he knows what you've been upto, since you claim he gave his word for you to go out.." She throws your lie back in your face and watches how your frown deepens, settles even.

You weep louder, face in your hands as you ugly cried and she smirks, “But...After you fix your door, sweep your room and that window..”

“I may change my mind, who’s really to say what I’ll tell him?”

Your lip trembles, “What?! M-my door?”

Riri only smirks and puts her hand to your back. For some reason it leaves the skin there tingling, you blush but try to shake it off, “Keep going, almost there.” She soothes.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri is able to sneak you both back up and helps you patch the little bruises and carpet burns you had on your calves and forearms. You have to act like your face isnt getting hot and unbearable from your own embarrassment.

⚔︎ Knight!riri supervises as you bent down to start working on the door. After she snuck you back in she made you put on stocks and worker pants, preaching on and on about how, “This will teach you that every action has consequences..” and that “..you should think before you act..” , shall there be a next time.

You hold your tongue even though she was starting to work your last nerve, this was supposed to be your replacement for an actual apology but she made every second unbearable.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri makes you use your manners when you need help, she’ll see you struggling but won’t engage unless you ask politely.

“Riri could you hold this handle down?” You ask while holding the bolt into the hole.

She looks down at you then turns away like she didn’t hear a thing.

You huff and push your fallen coils back behind your ear, “Riri, could you please help me screw these bolts in?”

Her lips curve up into a smirk, “Of course, princess.”

You bite your lip at the honorific, hiding your face as heat rushed to your cheeks. She kneels directly infront of you, doing as you asked.

Riri rambles on about the stupid lesson, you did not care; becoming more focused on how the veins in her hand popped when she squeezed the screwdriver, how the muscles in her arms tensed and bulged with every twist.

After the first one is done, Riri turns to you and she notices your staring. Her brows furrow as she moves her hands away, your eyes follow, she clears her throat and you shuffle to sit up straight again.

"Oh." You'd squeaked, getting a new handle, bolt and holding them down.

She pauses, "What do we say?"

"Please, help me again..?" you spoke dryly. Riri nods, quick to pick the tool back up.

⚔︎ Knight!Riri is impressed with the progress you've made, even if it was futile compared to where she thought it'd be by now.

The next morning while she trained, she thought about how your little breakdown in the garden might've been all the punishment you needed.

She also comes to the conclusion that the source for all these outburst was caused by a lack of attention. Everything was slowly coming together and now that she knew the problem, she could help more accurately.

Riri finishes the rest of her fencing and upper body reps before heading to your room.

Meanwhile ❀ Princess!Y/n hadn't been able to stop thinking about Riri or her small touches, the whole night you wondered deeply why, after all the fuss that happened the day before, was Riri and her stupid smirk the only thing you could focus on...

🔖: @mitchesmoon @lppriceisright @ririshotgf @riris-heart @blushyrawrz @lyfeofbilly

A/n: ending this with the perfect set up for some SMUT