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daylightmidnights · 9 hours ago

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Okayyyyyy I'm finally freeeee. Now I can rant about this masterpiece as much as I want.

First late me start with...... NIALL AND PHOEBE ??? Fuck yes! I'd have loved Niall to cause Harry some trouble but since Harry seems to trust him enough to appoint him as the main guard, he's not a threat. Plus I've come to the conclusion that I kinda like him so I wouldn't want him to suffer from anymore jealousy right now (not saying I wouldn't love for him to be jealous in future tho 👀). Anyway I am happy for Phoebe, she's the sweetest and deserves everything she wants. She and Niall would get married and have 10 kids and they'd play with Harry and yn's kids and then two of them would fall in love with each other and then you can write a story about that (excuse me...got carried away).

And I want to see Niall being goofy with her infront of yn. I want them three to be friends aaahhhhh I'm such a whore for good unlikely friendships. Like it's so mind boggling when you think about it. Yn being lower class and Phoebe and Niall technically being upper class than her but she's gonna be the queen and both of them gives her so much respect without a question about her social position. But now she's above everyone else and yn's just trying to exist with that fact. She's still the same at her core though so it must be so hard for her to adjust in this setting. All of this must be so fascinating to her in a way. Yeah I just want her to say 'fuck it' and be best buddies with Phoebe and Niall and like play chess with them or something on the bedroom floor lmao

And her first kiss was Lane? Bloody LANE? Eeesshhh I'd have wanted someone from their slum or something who had a crush on her and someone she kind of liked to be her first kiss. But Lane does seem perfect. Because not only is he her closest friend but Harry also kinda doesn't like him? So when he learns that his royal smug ass wasn't her first kiss he's gonna lose his shit and when he learns that stupid LANE was her first kiss he might have to take 10 days long cold bath to cool himself down. Hope we get to see his reaction to this information. Pretty please?

But as much as I want king Harry to suffer I'm starting to like him. I loved him in this chapter. Loved hiw sincere he was with that whole situation. He went and brought them back to the castle himself. And kinda felt guilty? That she and her family had to go through that despite it being his responsibility to take care of her and her family. And I have to admit that even I didn't like the disrespect towards him by Lord Mayor. What was that guy thinking? Harry is THE KING. Do you have no fear for your life Mr Mayor? Your stupidity made me go "Yes Harry go and behead him and I will hand you the sword" and I don't like being violent Mr Mayor. Leave my girl alone. She doesn't deserve all this shit. You people don't like her she knows that but she is still trying to be nice and fit in. She's taking those fucking etiquette class even though Harry gave her choice not to. She's trying okay? Leave her be. Hate that guy hate him hate him hate him

And god forbid if he does something with the brooch I'm gonna kill him myself (and I don't like violence so this is serious to me). Because that's Harry's mother's brooch that he gave to his wife-to-be, someone who he selected just to mess with his people? HELLO? IT'S HIS MOTHER'S!!! This is a big deal. Why isn't she freaking out more? Does she not understand the gravity of this? He's giving you his mother's things, his mother, probably the only person he truly loved and cherished. It's gotta be a big, huge deal.

Poor Harry lost his mother so young. Seems like his father mistreated her. No wonder he is like this. He probably hated his father. I'm sure of one thing though, he won't be like his father. He won't use yn as he pleases, won't neglect her or mistreat her. He already cares for her very much and even though the purpose of bringing her into this was not so great he's still looking out for her, protecting her and sees her as his queen. I'm pretty sure once he actually falls in love with her, he's gonna be a soft warm cuddly whiney mess when they're together alone. And I can't wait for that day. He's gonna cherish her.

The bath scene was very sexy and I loved that he was commanding but not forcing her to do anything. Even when he teaches her things or challenges her beliefs regarding God or her fear, he doesn't push his opinion on her. He tells her things and lets her decide for herself. Which I think is very wise and thoughtful. And it works too. She makes her own decision about what she wants. It's a progress. He is so keen on enlightening her about various things. I hope he teaches her more about other things too. About their kingdom and politics and other stuff. He also said he's gonna take her with him next time. She's probably never travelled anywhere before. So maybe they can explore place together when they go somewhere.

And last but NOT FUCKING THE LEAST.....they finally KISSED. Yessssssss!!!! Bet Harry was all drunk on her lips afterwards. Couldn't think straight, only wanting to kiss her again. Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh I'm dizzy thinking about it. And they're gonna share his bed from now on. Can't wait to see what happens when they're sleeping next to each other. I don't think I can wait for the next chapter. Give me now! Gimme gimme gimme!!!!!!

I wish I could get inside your brain and see what's gonna happen next. This world you created has sucked me in and now I can't get out of it and don't want to. I don't want this to end. I'd love 100 chapters of this. Thank you so much Guru. This is so so good. Your writing is so good I can't even explain. Waiting for it gets tough but it's always worth it. Every chapter so far has been incredible 🤌

I love this so much. I love you so much more. Thank you for all you do. You're absolutely amazing! ❤️

[3] It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST

Series Summary: Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.

Note: Harry is mean/uncouth in this, though things do get better. He doesn't treat anyone around him with much respect at all. Expect to not like him much at first. Also, this is set in the 1800s England, and while not completely historically accurate, I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible.

Ch. 3 Word Count: 8,749

Ch. 3 Warning: Harsh physical treatment, descriptions of extreme poverty, discrimination, humiliation, some light petting, inspection kink (light), corruption kink, mention of parental death (let me know if I missed any!)

It's Good to Be King Masterlist

. .

Y/n had learned that the king had been called away to tend to a minor land ownership dispute in a village that was a day's ride away. He'd be gone for five days as long as there were no unexpected postponements.

When Phoebe told her, Y/n couldn't pinpoint exactly why she felt so wistful. She knew he was a cold, bad-mannered person, so she shouldn't have expected him to speak to her about his departure beforehand. But to feel the tight stretch in her chest that he didn't tell her himself… that was perplexing.

Their interactions over the last few weeks she'd been at the castle had been not more than fleeting. They'd had dinner together a few times, and one evening he went to her room with a gift for her. He didn't let her open it while he was present, but before he left, he placed his hand on her hip when she was wearing only her chemise and said, "This, I much prefer. I shall have another fig tart sent to you this evening."

He squeezed at her skin, his fingers indenting into her newly very slightly softer hip. She understood him to mean the small bit of weight she'd put on was what he preferred.

The gift he left her was a beautiful gold brooch bearing the kingdom's royal coat of arms carved into the center, adorned with sparkling purple, red, and amber jewels. On the back, it was engraved with the name of Harry's deceased mother, the late Queen.

She forced a smile as Phoebe poured hot, fragrant Ceylon into her teacup. "He'll be gone five days? The wedding ceremony is in two weeks. Let's hope nothing delays their return."

"Two weeks already is it?" Phoebe said, lifting the porcelain lid from her breakfast platter. "Are you scared?"

She nodded. "Yes. But I've no choice. My family finally has everything they've ever wanted here. My sister, Dell, cried last week when she tasted the citrus soufflé we all had for dessert. I can't do anything to ruin this. Even if he is the devil."

A dashing devil.

"I believe he's fond of you. He's a cad, but I've seen him look at you when you're not paying attention. Everyone has."

Y/n smiled down at her plate. She only pretended not to be paying attention, but she knew his gaze on the curve of her neck and brushing at her lips when she'd look the other direction. Crude, maybe, but he did show her something about her body she'd not soon forget.

In fact, it had come quite in handy once her bedroom was quiet and she was settled into her down blankets with a book full of wanton stories in her lap. The guilt she'd felt the first few times she'd reenacted what he'd shown her soon turned into a craving she daydreamed of at the most inappropriate times.

Just as then, while Phoebe stood by watching as she ate her breakfast.

"Have you eaten?" Y/n asked.

"Not yet."

"Would you like a biscuit with butter?" Y/n placed a biscuit on a small dish and gestured at the chair across from her for Phoebe to sit.

"It's meant for you, Y/n."

"Of course it's meant for me, but I'd like you to have some. You're my friend. Please, sit with me."

Phoebe offered a gentle smile and pulled the chair out to sit. "Thank you."

Y/n had begun offering some of her food to Phoebe during the mornings when no one else was around. Her friend always denied the initial offer but eventually wound up giving in. In fact, it seemed to be easier to get her to sit with Y/n by the day.

She'd also begun taking etiquette classes twice each week in preparation for the wedding and being seen in public with the king. The council advised that she needed the extra work. Harry left it up to Y/n whether or not she'd like to go. She decided to take the classes but quickly regretted that choice. The governess was harsh and easily angered.

Y/n had the feeling that her teacher didn't like her one bit, despite her best efforts to charm her. In fact, she got the idea that not many appreciated her presence in the castle at all. So she often preferred to stay in her room or her sisters'.

"Have you ever kissed a boy before?" Phoebe asked as she dotted the edge of her lip with her napkin.

"I have. But it was just with a friend because I was curious. And only once."

"Was it Lane? The one you told me about who likes his drink?"

She nodded. "Yes. But I'm sure he liked it more than I did. What about you?"

Phoebe smiled shyly and looked behind herself toward the door, as if anyone could hear them through the heavy, solid wood. "I might have last night…"

Y/n sat her fork down and leaned forward. "What do you mean? With whom?"

"You swear to not tell anyone?"

"Phoebe, you know I would never tell anyone your secrets. Was it Niall? It was Niall, wasn't it?"

The look on her friend's face when she spoke the name of the guard told Y/n everything she needed to know. She'd had a suspicion about the pair a couple of weeks prior when she spotted Niall winking at the girl, and the way her face shaded in pink was a clue as to how she felt about it.

A sudden knock on the door had both girls looking at one another in surprise. Phoebe quickly stood and walked toward the door with Y/n right behind. When she pulled the door open, there, standing in her doorway, was the Lord Mayor, and two men with him.

"Miss Y/n Y/l/n, you will come with us at once," he said, looking behind Phoebe at the queen-to-be.

"What is this about? Is the king okay?" Y/n asked, placing her hand over the broach he'd given her.

"You and your family are not welcome here in the castle any longer."

"What? I don't understand! Is there not—"

One of the men stepped in, pushing Phoebe to the side, and grabbed Y/n roughly by her arm. "Come!"

As she was pulled away from her room, the new guard, Niall, stopped the procession before they got too far. "Halt!"

"Move out of my way at once, guard!"

"My loyalty lies with the king and his orders. Unhand Her Majesty at once!"

"The King's duties fall on me when he's away. This is my command. Move to the side."

"Then you leave me no choice but to send word to King Styles to notify him of your trespass."

Y/n felt her arm yanked as she was dragged down the stairs. She screamed when another set of hands was on her middle, pushing, and then she spotted her sisters, parents, and grandmother already near the entrance, surrounded by men.

"Let me go! You needn't grab at me!" The men didn't listen. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, she was pushed until her knees and hands hit the stone floor just off the carpet. But she had barely a moment to take a breath when she was again being grabbed and hauled upward until she was standing next to her mother.

The Lord Mayor stepped in front of her and reached forward. Y/n gasped when she felt him yank at her dress and then realized he'd pulled the brooch off. "Take them away."

Niall called out before Y/n and her family were directed to load into the horse cart that had been waiting for them at the front of the castle. "King Styles will receive word tomorrow. Do not fear, madam."

Two guards hung on the sides of the cart, and a driver at the front controlled the two horses pulling it, as Y/n and her family clung to the wooden benches inside so they didn't fall. People stood and watched as the cart was pulled out of the castle gates and toward the slums of their overcrowded rookery.

"What's happened, Y/n? What did you do?" Her mother bellowed dramatically.

"I don't know what happened. This wasn't the king's orders."

"Those men were atrocious. Grabbed my toast right from my hand!"

The townsfolk were staring, laughing, and some spat as they passed them by. She was far less worried about her family's reputation than she was about the rude behavior of the middle and noble classes. Y/n may never hold influence or power, but she was a human, and she deserved fundamental decency. She'd always believed everyone did.

Until then. Those people mocking her were the lowest of the low.

Being carted out of the castle in a buggy meant for livestock had been done on purpose. It was meant to be a spectacle. It was meant to humiliate. But it only made her angry. For the first time since she'd met the king, she understood him, in part. Understood his need to cause a stir and disrupt the comfortably spoiled bourgeoisie. Now she understood why he didn't like any of them.

. .

"Your Majesty, I have an urgent message from the main castle guard. Y/n Y/l/n and her family have been removed from the castle without your permission. The Lord Mayor took it upon himself to act as regent in your stead and made the decision to banish them from the castle grounds. Your presence is requested at once to deal with the matter."

Harry had never been so furious in all his life. He'd led an army in war and dealt with enemy soldiers who spat in his face, and had never been treated with such a lack of respect as this. He'd only been gone for two days, and already he had his own men conspiring behind his back. It was in direct defiance of Harry, and that just would not do.

He had no choice but to abandon his purpose and return right away. The land dispute matter could wait. Taking care of the Lord Mayor and everyone involved could not. He bid farewell to his company and left the moment he mounted his steed with his men in tow.

A day's ride across the expanse of Thornekeep and the surrounding villages was tiresome. Harry had been looking forward to more rest before he was to return, but now he had to forgo the gin and the hearty meal that was being prepared for him so he could deal with the unruly cast of characters he'd left in charge of the castle in his stead.

If he'd been a hair more cruel than he was, he would have forced the horses to push through until exhaustion. But he relied on the steeds to safely give him transport, and rest was necessary for the animals, just as it was for him and his men.

And as upset as he was about being disrespected, he was more concerned about Y/n than anything. She was his responsibility, and it was no secret that she and her family were not happily welcomed into their new roles. But he certainly hadn't expected this.

The following day, when he arrived to town just outside the castle, it felt as though everyone suddenly retreated back into their homes. As if even the townspeople knew they'd done something wrong. The vendors and workers averted their gazes.

Pointing in the direction of the town square near where the Lord Mayor lived, Harry looked at two of his men who were riding with him. "The Lord Mayor, go and collect him. Bring him to the private chambers closet off the long gallery. Make him stay there and wait for me. You," he said as he looked at Fred, "Get the covered stagecoach and have Alfred drive it directly to Y/n's home. We will be bringing them back to the castle at once."

Harry and the guard traveling with him rode deeper into the town, where the slums sprawled with wet, muddy roads, buckets filled with slop, decrepit living quarters, and street drunkards. There, the people stared intently. They stopped in their tracks and watched as the king rode by on his healthy, strong steed, with his armoured guard behind him. It was the first time he'd ever gone into the rookeries, where the poor lived and worked (if they could find work).

"You, sir!" Harry shouted at a man carrying what looked to be a heavy sack over his shoulder. The man stopped and narrowed his eyes at the king. "Can you tell me in which direction Y/n Y/l/n lives?"

"Oy…" The man dropped the sack at his feet and looked around himself. "I know 'o no such name."

"She's a woman of 20. Has a father called Peter and her mother Lettice."

"Peter and Lettice… Peter Y/l/n…" He rubbed at his chin and chewed the inside of his cheek. "I might know it."

Harry sighed. He knew the spiel. The man was expecting some kind of payment for information. Directing his horse to step closer to the man, Harry looked down at him with a frown and could smell the stench coming from him. "If you know it, tell me then. If you do, I'll let you continue on your journey unharmed."

The man shrugged. It was worth a shot. "Across from the mill. There's a graveyard at the top o'the lane. Four or five tenements down. B'be careful o'the pigs. They've not eaten."

The smell, as Harry traveled deeper into the overcrowded and filthy streets, was almost unbearable. Every five or ten yards was a bucket overflowing with excrement. He'd always known these places existed, but to see it with his own eyes (and to smell it)… he was appalled. The kind of squalor the destitutes lived in was barbarous.

When they arrived at the rundown tenement across from the mill, Harry jumped from the horse and gave the lead to his guard before sloshing through the filth to step up onto the rotted boards of the platform. He knocked on the door with the loose frame and stepped back as someone opened it up right away.

"Who's that?" The old woman stumbled back a couple of steps and clutched her hand over her heart. "The king! The king is here!"

"M'lady, I'm looking for the Y/l/n family. Are they here in this tenement?" Harry held the door open and stepped inside. The main room was dingy and damp and smelled of stale food and unwashed bodies.

"By god!" The woman sat down on the benchtop and inhaled deeply like she'd been given the scare of her life. "The king is here!"

A young man came down the stairs and looked from Harry to the old woman. "We can 'ear ya! Enough!" The man removed his floppy hat and lowered his head. "Your Highness. To what do we owen'ya th'honor?"

"I'm looking for the Y/l/n family. I've heard they live here."

"Right y'are. Lemme find 'em."

Harry scraped his eyes around the space, and while it wasn't as filthy as things appeared from outside, it was unfit for any human. The woman gasped as she pushed herself to stand and mumbled something he couldn't hear, nor did he care much. She seemed to be half out of it, gin drunk perhaps.

The ceiling was caved in at the side of the common area, where it appeared there was some kind of unworking, rusted stove. The wooden floors were soft under his feet, and the walls stained with moisture.

"King Harry?"

He turned quickly when he heard Y/n's voice. She made her way down the stairs, followed by her three younger sisters. "Y/n. I've come for you and your family. I received word about the situation and came as quickly as I could."

She clasped her hands behind her back and nodded. "Yes. It was humiliating. But we're used to being treated as such."

"You and your family are to gather your things quickly. A carriage will be around soon to bring you back to the castle."

"We were told we were not welcome there."

"The Lord Mayor will be dealt with forthwith. But what he says is irrelevant. My word is final. You will come back to the castle, and we are to proceed as before."

Y/n nodded slowly and motioned for her sisters to go back up to their quarters. "That is fine. Would you like to come up?"

She could see it in his posture and the expression on his face that he was not well in that room. The stench could get to anyone, but at least in the small space where they lived, it was tidy and much less foul. So he followed behind her up to their floor, and she let him into their room.

And it was indeed just a room. Pallets of cloth and feather, and straw were strewn over the floor where he assumed they slept. In the corner was a bench piled with random things: cups, bowls, sacks, a couple of books, a lantern, a tin of fish. In another corner, there was a tin bucket full of charred things, the wall behind it black from soot. He imagined it was their source of heat, like a fireplace.

Lettice and Peter were already standing in wait, their faces like those of young children awaiting permission to play with their new things. They bowed their heads. "Your Majesty," Peter said.

"Nan," Y/n said softly as she bent down to put her hand on her grandmother's shoulder. She'd been sitting in a chair, asleep. The old woman startled and looked at Y/n like she was some kind of horrible intruder.

"Nan, look…" Y/n motioned toward Harry, and the old woman blinked her eyes slowly.

"We're saved? He's come for us. Thank heavens!"

There weren't many things to gather. Harry hadn't imagined their living space as such. He figured a multi-room flat, nothing extravagant, but at least a home with space to cook and use the WC. But there was none of that. No running water, no private space, and no comfortable things to lie upon at night. How could anyone live like that? And that there were seven people all crammed into that room? He couldn't imagine it.

There was a double knock on the door before it was opened. Everyone turned to look as a young man stepped inside. "What's this then? It's true!" He grinned at Y/n and then lowered his head. "Your Majesty."

Y/n stepped in next to the man and put her hand on his arm. "This is my good friend Lane. He was there with me, the day you came to me."

Harry looked the dirty fellow up and down. "Yes, I remember Lane."

He watched his wife-to-be whisper something to the young man, and then Lane turned to look at her with a brief nod as he ran his hand over her wrist. There was no time to challenge what had just happened or to ask what was said and why someone else was touching her like that when Alfred had finally arrived with the covered carriage.

Once Y/n and her family were loaded into the carriage, Harry and his guard led the way back to the castle. He'd seen a lot of things in his life, but he had not been prepared to see the rookeries up close like that. He'd seen the outskirts of impoverished neighborhoods in other kingdoms and towns and but never in his own. Shock might be too heavy of a word for the way it made him feel, but it was close.

He ordered three footmen to take Y/n's family to their quarters and give them whatever they would like to eat (as well as draw each of them a bath) while he went with Y/n and Phoebe to bring her to his chambers. "You'll stay in my room from here on. Your room will still be open for you, but I'm not satisfied for you to be there all night alone."

Y/n was still struggling to wrap her mind around the events of the last few days. Niall had told her to expect the king to come and get her, but she doubted that he really would. She imagined it was easier for the king to take a more suitable wife. A woman used to that life with a higher status. Someone the proletariat would prefer.

She was thankful that he did, though. She'd gotten used to some of the small luxuries (and big) that the royal castle afforded them all. Mostly, she missed her privacy and the comfy bed.

"Have her wardrobe brought over, a warm bath drawn, and whatever she'd like to eat," Harry said to Phoebe, who quickly got to work.

Y/n kept quiet as she watched the king open up his balcony and drape the lace curtains to the side before he poured two glasses of gin and handed her one.

He gulped his portion in one go as she sniffed her glass. "Go on. Drink it. You need it more than I do. Feel free to have as much as you like."

"Thank you."

"You should not have to thank me. This should never have happened. I will deal with the Lord Mayor and see what kind of punishment the council allows. I just ask that if you leave this room, have Phoebe and Niall with you."

She nodded. "Of course."

"I've made arrangements for a formal announcement of our engagement. Day after tomorrow, we will have a public appearance to announce to the whole of the kingdom that you will be the Queen Consort. No one can then deny that I've selected my wife, as it seems they've all done."

He paced toward the open balcony and put his hands on his hips. "I will be gone til late. I have much to do. Please use my room as if it were your own."

Y/n eyed the bed and then shifted her gaze back to the king as he stepped toward his door. "I'm grateful that you came to get us. I'm indebted to you, My Lord."

He sniffed and looked down at his feet, hand on the knob the door. "Yes. You are."

. .

Y/n woke up to the sound of pouring water. Slowly opening her eyes, she found Harry sitting next to the fire, sipping hot tea and reading something intently as a man stood over the large tub in the king's room. She couldn't remember when she'd fallen asleep, but it wasn't long after her warm bath and the big meal she'd eaten.

She wasn't sure what to think exactly. The last few days had been quite dramatic and unusual, then with the king barging into their meager home to bring them back to the castle... He'd returned for her when he didn't need to. He had no allegiance to her or her family, so it was a bit of a surprise that he seemed so insistent that she come back with him.

"My Lord. Your bath is ready."

The king looked toward the man and pushed himself up from his chair. "You are dismissed."

Y/n blinked and watched as the man left the room, and Harry stepped toward the bath to touch the water. He looked tired. She wondered what time he'd returned to the room. When he began to remove his clothes, she thought to look away, imagining he didn't realize she was already awake.

But she remained still and kept her eyes on his frame until he was stark naked, despite her internal scolding to look away. The urge to keep watching was much stronger than her polite reasoning to avert her eyes. His body appeared to be that of a hard worker, with solid muscle and a sturdy build. It had never been a doubt in her mind that he was well-formed, and now she had proof as she watched flexing, dense muscles as he stepped into his tub.

"You may join me, if you like."

His voice startled her. She hadn't realized he was aware that she was awake, watching him. Pushing herself to sit up, she pulled the blanket to cover her state of undress. He'd seen her before in just a chemise, but she still had the sense that it was wrong to bare herself to any man like that.

"Don't be shy with me. I've already tasted and smelled the juice of your quim and you've just seen me naked. Come."

Y/n gulped at the memory of Harry's hands on her body as she let out uncontrollable noises when he'd touched her. Then the aftermath of the forbidden shame as she watched him taste her offering. The lingering thought of the way he'd jutted his pink tongue out to lick at his fingers had her surging with heat.

"My King… It's improper—"

"Now don't start with that again. I say what's proper and what's not, and you disobeying me is improper."

Slowly, she moved the cover from herself and slid her legs to the edge of the bed. Harry had not yet looked in her direction, which she was thankful for as she wrapped her arms over the thin material that clung to her breasts and stepped closer until she was just next to the tub.

He looked up at her. His eyes were bloodshot, and the fatigue in them was evident. "Well, if you're not going to join me, at least sit." He patted the wide stone ledge of the tub as he kept his eyes on her.

Trying her best not to stare into the water, she shifted her gaze toward the fire and sat down where the king had told her. His broad chest rose and fell tiredly as he stretched his strong arms along the top of the tub. She looked down at his fingers, the distance of only 7 or 8 barleycorns away from her thigh. So close he could touch if he stretched his middle finger toward her.

"I didn't foresee the kind of difficulty I'd encounter in keeping you. I knew some would disagree with my choice, but to have been interrupted in my work and so blatantly disrespected… We will not be making that mistake again."

"I'm sorry, it was—"

"Stop." He spoke loudly, his voice carrying a harsh edge. "Do not apologize for concerns you did not create. I have chosen you, and that's final. The Lord Mayor will have to come to terms with his punishment, just as I will have to come to terms with my lapse in judgment. I take responsibility for that egregious failure. But I'm not happy about it."

Y/n kept quiet. She'd seen the king raging mad the moment he stepped into the castle the evening prior, and while that anger had not been directed at her, she felt it as if it were. So part of her still felt like she'd done something wrong. And it was becoming clear to her now that her place as queen was not going to be an easy one. She was not beloved by the kingdom. She was a disgrace to the monarch and tradition.

"Next time I have to take leave, you'll come with me. I don't believe we have any choice in the matter. You're my responsibility."

She gently placed her palm down on the cool stone and watched as he dragged a cloth over his chest. "When do you leave next?"

"Not until after we're wed. And once you become pregnant, all of my duties away from the castle must be delegated to someone I trust. We can't risk anyone trying to hurt you again."

As he wetted his skin and wrung out the damp cloth, she glanced over his shoulder and up his neck to his structured jawline. She imagined his babies would be very pretty. The out-of-place thought surprised her.

"I wish I weren't such a burden, My King."

He dipped the rag into the water and looked up at her as he leaned forward. "You're my burden. I chose it. I bear it. It's what I want. I could very well pick another who's more suitable. Easier. More docile. But I don't want that. I want you."

It wasn't romantic. Not at all. So why did her heart skip a beat when he'd said it? He'd admitted she was a burden. She was not easy, and she was not docile.

"I'm trying to be more docile. I'll learn."

He waved his arm as water dripped from his skin. "No. My mother tried to be compliant and docile, and look where it got her. The moment she surrendered her will was the moment she was sentenced to death."

Shaking her head in confusion, Y/n leaned forward and dipped a finger into the warm water. "What do you mean? The queen died from consumption. That was what we were all told."

"And she would still be alive today if she had kept a grip on her spirit. But she allowed my father to take it from her. He took her charm, her wit, and her will. Consumption took her because she allowed herself to surrender. It was her death sentence."

She had wanted to run her hand over his back in a soothing gesture, but she thought better of it. It was possible he was no longer mourning the loss of his mother and that he wouldn't want her touch even if he was. The queen had been gone for many years.

"I loathe to bring this up right now, but I feel it's important to say. I'm worried that the brooch you gave me, the one that belonged to the queen, is gone. The Lord Mayor took it from me when he removed me from the castle."

Harry's face darkened as he turned to look toward the door. "Did he now? If it's gone, he will pay a heavy price in the form of losing his title. That's theft and punishable by law. But I have a feeling it's still in his possession. I will have it back to you by tomorrow, and if not, I will buy you a new one."

"I'm very grateful to you, My King. You returned so quickly. My sisters are very happy here."

He looked at her face, and his irises burned a trail down the front of her chemise. "And you? Are you happy here?"

She looked down at her lack of clothes and shifted forward so that her breasts were less visible under the thin fabric. "I am. We all are. My family and I."

"Here…" He held his hand toward her, the wet cloth in his palm. She took the rag from him, and he repositioned himself so his back was facing her. Y/n understood that he was requesting her to take the cloth to his back to help him wash.

She hesitantly moved her hand toward his back, as if touching him would set her to flame. But once the damp rag was pressed into his shoulder, he sighed, and she realized that touching him wouldn't hurt her at all. It had been silly to think it would. Running it across his back, she noted the smooth skin and firm muscle that defined his sturdy figure. Plunging the cloth down into the water along his spine, she allowed herself to take him in. The backs of his arms and neck, the curve of his shoulder, and the breadth of his frame…

"If you joined me in the tub, this would be much easier."

It was true. If she were sitting behind him in the water, she'd have easier access to him, but that would require her to remove her garment. When she didn't answer, Harry turned to look at her as he leaned back into the tub until his shoulder was pressed into her thigh. "Keep going."

"Your back is hidden. I can't reach—"

"Then here." He took her hand with the cloth and pulled it over his chest. The new angle of him, his back to her as she leaned forward and slowly ran the rag along the solid muscle of his pectorals, felt quite salacious. But she continued wiping and cleaning him. When he leaned his head back against her thigh, she gasped and paused her motions.

He laughed, his eyes closed. "Oh, mouse… Calm yourself."

She slowly began to rub over the skin of his chest as she looked down at his face. His features were tranquil as he moaned, the lower she dipped the rag. She had no intentions of dragging it too low, but he seemed to be enjoying it as she ran it over his stomach.

Glancing down further, she could make out something dark between his legs, and then the member attached to him as it swayed with the water's movement. It was indecent of her to be looking, but her curiosity was acute. And besides, she'd seen it before already. She knew what he looked like, and right then, it seemed so harmless as it was distorted beneath the surface of the water.

"Lower."

Y/n blinked, casting her sight back to his face. She hesitated to bring the cloth lower against him, but figured she didn't need to go that low. There were other areas she could clean, other spots she could run the rag against. So she leaned in further and wiped down to his hip and the top of his thigh.

He let out a breathy groan and spread his legs the slightest. "Good."

She smiled at the praise. She was doing something right for once. Trailing the cloth to his other hip and down to the top of his thigh, he rocked his hips upward and moaned. When he turned his head, rolling it over her thigh, she felt his warm breath sneaking under the cloth of her chemise.

The moment was entirely too intimate. Harry was quite amenable in that moment, and the way he had used her thigh as a pillow felt sweet. Something about how tired he seemed and the way his eyelids were closed as he puffed out shallow breaths made her body heat. She didn't understand why she was responding to him that way.

But then he lifted an arm out of the water and reached behind himself, his hand pressed over her thigh, and then he squeezed as he moved his palm up to her hip. Her light colored chemise wetted under his touch, and she could see her skin coming through the damp material. She watched as his thumb gently ran along the bend of her thigh.

"My Lord…" She didn't know what she was to say, but she knew she had to say something. Anything… "You're getting my clothes wet."

"Then take them off."

She swallowed and lifted the rag away from him. "That's—"

"Improper? Is that what you were going to say?" Harry pushed himself from his spot in the tub and turned to look at her directly.

He pulled at her hip and grinned as she dropped the rag into the tub and gasped. She loved how it felt to have his hands on her, but she was too embarrassed to admit it as she writhed away from him and stood from the tub to step away.

The King leaned forward against the tub, his elbows on the spot she'd been sitting. "Where are you going?"

"I'm… You're the devil!" She said as her body thrummed with wanton heat.

He let out a loud laugh and felt something slick under his palm. Looking down to the stone, he stitched his brows together and drew a finger through the moisture before he brought it up to sniff. He dropped his mouth open in surprise as he looked at her. "Little mouse… This is not water. Come here at once and let me see."

"No." She looked away from him as she clutched the back of her chemise. She knew very well what it was, she just hadn't expected it to seep through the linen down to the stone. She'd only recently begun to understand the mechanics of how her body reacted to being aroused ever since Harry showed her the way she could make herself feel.

"Yes." He spoke firmly, his green eyes boring into her body as her chest heaved. "Come here and we'll take care of this for you. Now I see why you're so pent up. You need a release, don't you? It's been a hard few days for you."

She shook her head and looked down at her bare feet. She was doing everything she could to be a good girl, to do the right thing by God. But the king, whom she was certain was the devil himself, tempting her, made it unimaginably hard to keep righteous.

"Have you been taking good care of your little leaky spout like I showed you?"

She let out a wobbly noise and closed her eyes to pretend that question had never been uttered.

"I think you have. You very much enjoyed it when I showed you how to touch your little coo. Has it been good? I'm sure you were unable to whilst back at your tenement, but certainly you know well the kind of joy it brings when you have privacy."

She swallowed, the sound clicking loudly in the room. "No."

"Yes. Come here."

Opening her eyes, she let her sight trail over his arms and his face as he leaned into the tub so casually. Like what he was saying wasn't unscrupulous. He was so well-favored in looks that it almost wasn't fair. How was she to remain a proper lady?

"Was it me you thought of when you touched yourself?"

Shaking her head, she quickly glanced away. It was hard to maintain eye contact when she was lying.

"No? Then Lane? Your friend? You thought of him?"

Setting her eyes back on his, she shook her head. "No! Of course not!"

He smiled. "You don't fancy him then?"

"Never. Not like that."

"What about me? Do you fancy me, Y/n? Be honest. I can already tell when you're not being forthright. You can't even look me in the eye when you answer falsely."

Her skin felt like she'd fallen into a patch of stinging nettles as he kept his eyes on her. He'd figured out her little signal. She was no good at lying. But she didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing how he made her feel deep down.

"I want you here now. Come sit or I'll get out and force you to."

Still clutching the back of her chemise, she stepped forward slowly until she was next to the tub. Harry reached up for her hip and pulled. "Sit."

Y/n placed her hands down on the ledge and sat, but Harry pulled at her again until her legs were in the water and the bottom of her chemise was wet. Her heart was galloping in her chest as he placed his hands on her thighs. "You're going to be my wife. Yes?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"That's right. You're mine. So when I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it for me. I don't ask much of you, Y/n," he spoke as he ran his hands up and down her thighs, then hooked his thumbs under the hem of the material and brought it upward to her mid-thigh. "You needn't worry much about anyone else asking you to do something. Just me. Yes?"

She nodded again and watched as his thumbs pushed upward under the chemise over her skin and she thought she would faint.

"What did you eat last night?"

"Uhh… roasted potatoes and cream, salted fish, bread and butter, apples."

He smiled at her as he paused his hands at the top of her thigh, and she felt her whole body flush in embarrassment. If he lowered his sight and peeked, he'd see her full quim she was sure.

"Good. You're eating well. And you slept well too, I presume?"

She nodded, trying to keep still so he didn't conclude how much she was affected by his hands on her.

"You like this."

Blinking, she turned her sight to the table with the water pitcher without answering.

He laughed softly and ran his thumbs along the curve of her thigh where it met her hip. "That's a yes. And what about this?"

She felt his fingers press into the flesh at the inside of her thigh as he pulled and spread her legs. She looked down quickly and sucked in a sharp inhale at the sight. It was lewd for him to see her like that. And yet… She was curious.

"Keep going?" He looked up at her, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know…" She gulped.

"You don't know? Then, how about I just keep going until you say stop? Yes?"

She nodded. "Okay."

He shifted his gaze further down to her privy parts, and she closed her eyes when she felt his thumb slide against her crease. He hissed, gripping her thigh harshly as he inspected her bits and moved in closer to get a better look.

"Very pretty, little mouse." She felt his thumb slip down further and softly massage until there was a little intrusion. She opened her eyes and watched as the tip of his thumb disappeared into her hole.

Snapping her thighs closed, Harry shot his eyes back up to her and removed his fingers. "Stop?"

It hadn't hurt her, but it was the embarrassment that had her shying from his touch. "I… I don't know. It's… not right."

"What's not right? The way a man and woman enjoy one another? Is that what's not right? Why would God go through the trouble of making humans with parts that can find pleasure in touch?"

"I think it's just meant for the sacrament of marriage."

"So, stop, then?"

She looked down at her legs dangling into the water and wished she were more bold like the girls she'd read about in her stories. The ones who'd found their lovers before they were wed and allowed themselves the indulgence of pleasure.

Harry gently wrapped his fingers around the space just above her ankle. "Look at me, mouse."

She looked into his green eyes and felt like she was being torn apart by her conscience. She'd never wanted to give in to her carnal pleasure as much as she did with Harry. And she never imagined that a man like him would defend her honor more than once. He was crude and undisciplined, but there was something tender, just for her, underneath the cold and pompous performance.

"Do you know why your little coo gets all wet like this, if not for the enjoyment of the act? It's human nature. It's how we were made. You do not need to be shy with me. If you want it, you can have it. As you've seen before, God will not smite you for such a thing as this."

The skin on her ankle where his hand was gripped felt warm, and it sent a wave of wicked craving through her insides. She wanted to reach toward him and push the curl from his forehead and slide her finger down his prominent nose over his plush pink lips just to see what he'd feel like under her fingertips. She wished she were brave enough to slip into the tub with him and fall into the temptuous ways of a dauntless woman.

He released her ankle and stood from the water, his strong, denuded body wet and dripping before her. She glanced only briefly at the organ hung heavy at her eye level before tilting her head back to look up at him. He bent as he took her chin in his hand. "What is it that you want? Tell me now."

She shook her head. "I don't know. I'm confused."

He puffed out a laugh and let go of her chin before he stepped from the tub. "Aren't we all, Y/n? No one really has the answers. Everyone is confused. You just have to learn to speak up for what you want most and hope that it wasn't the bad choice. No one can guide you but yourself."

She turned to watch as he pulled a robe over his body and walked toward his balcony. What did she want most? What if it was the bad choice?

Pulling her legs from the water, she stepped from the tub and guardedly followed behind him, the bottom half of her chemise soaked, which sent a chill over her heated skin. She stopped at the balcony door and coasted her eyes over the view of the castle garden with its fountains and tall trees. In the late spring, it would be a lovely place to stroll through, she thought. Harry was leaned into the stone railing, the tips of his curls in his damp hair already drying from the cool air whisping through it.

He was the sort of man who women whispered about. Both because he had such a rakishly handsome face (and form) and because he had the most brutish devil-may-care attitude. It made him quite a fascinating attraction. But the current of care he had for her underneath his thoughtless exterior was what drew Y/n's curiosity the most.

"You may do with me as you please. Make the decision for me. I won't say no." It took everything in her to spit the words out.

He turned and placed an elbow over the stone to lean into as he looked at her, his head cocked to the side as if she were a peculiar creature. "That does not please me. Indeed, I do not like being told no, but even worse is when I'm told yes and it's a lie."

"Then yes. I want to know. I may as well learn. Not just to please you but to discover my own pleasure."

Pushing himself from the stone, he blinked in surprise, a ghost of a smile turning the edge of his lip upward. "Then tell me what it is you want. Speak plainly."

She glanced behind her at the bed and then back at the king. "I'll… I could lie on the bed, and you could touch me again. Maybe…" She looked down and felt every atom of her being light up with scorching embers. "I'd like to feel your kiss."

She hadn't even noticed that he'd stepped in front of her until she saw his bare feet standing before her. Lifting her head upward to meet his gaze, she could have melted from the warmth on his face. "I haven't kissed you yet, have I?"

Harry placed his wide palm on her frozen cheek, and she closed her eyes. He hadn't kissed her, but the tender touch had her skin sizzling and her heart racing. "You haven't yet kissed me. No."

Blinking her eyes open to look at him again, she watched his irises smooth across her features and drag over her lips slowly as his thumb slid down her cheekbone. "Then we must remedy that mistake."

She'd been kissed before. Lane had been drunk, and she gave in to his persistent bickering to shut him up and to sate her own curiosity. It was hard and dry and smelled of gin and ale and sweat. It hadn't been what she imagined a kiss should be.

So, when Harry nudged his nose against hers, and she felt his hand soft on her hip, she knew it before he'd even closed the gap between their lips, that this would be the kind of kiss she'd always daydreamed of.

She felt his breath over her lips, and his fingers squeezed her skin as his thumb dragged gently at her temple before he pressed his smooth mouth to hers, and the noise of her doubt was silenced. She hadn't even realized that her hands were clutched over the fabric of his robe at his chest, like he would drift away as if in a dream if she didn't hang on tight.

He opened and closed his lips around hers in soft, careful motions, and she stepped closer, beckoned by the pull of his hand at her side. She parted her lips to mimic how he was kissing her, and he moaned into her mouth. She had no time to be startled by the moan and that it signified his delectation, when she felt the wet tip of his tongue lave over her bottom lip before he pulled it into his mouth gently.

Oh god! She was wrong about everything! He didn't need to confess an undying love or obsession that was not there. He only needed to kiss her for her body and her mind to relent to him. It was delicate and confident, prurient and genteel… it was bewitching.

Did one truly not need the magical bounds of love to bloom in rapture from a kiss? Her skin and her blood and the nails on her fingers and toes were all vibrating with the kind of sensation that she always assumed only happened when a soul had found the one it was predestined to.

His hand slowly pushed away from her face and wound to the back of her head as his other reached across her lower back until she was flush against his chest. Her heart fluttered so rapidly at her brazen reach, her hands moving upward of their own accord until she'd pushed her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Even with the chilled wind whipping over her thinly clothed frame, her blood burned hot. If he took her then and laid her in his bed and claimed her virginity, she thought she'd not say no. Because what was this? Why was the subtle unanchoring of her morals and her posture on right and wrong suddenly categorized as a lie and a truth? The thick veil of deception was quickly trampled by just a kiss. What else would she soon uncover?

When he parted from her, he did not remove his hands, but he set his gaze against hers with a soft wonder that carried over to his features. Slowly, she pulled her fingers from his hair and placed her palms on his shoulders, all in silence. Was he in awe just as she was? Surely not.

But his delicate touch at the back of her neck was an homage to something profoundly affectionate. It had all been unexpected. Perhaps even for him.

"I have much to do today, else I'd remain here with you. It's nearly ten, breakfast will be served promptly. We'll call for Phoebe to help you dress and begin your day."

He stepped away, and it was then that Y/n could feel the harsh wind cutting through the linen to her flesh. She stood, confounded, as she watched the king walk back into his room to dress himself. Frozen in her spot, she let her mind wander to her childhood when she used to play pretend that her prince had found her. He'd sweep her up, take her away, and they'd fall madly in love and rule the kingdom together. Was it something she'd somehow foreseen, or was it just the silly imagination of every young girl who wished for something better?

Confounded, maybe, but Y/n was armed with a new awareness, a definite truth that she hadn't been privy to before. That even those who mean well can tell a lie, and truth can be found in the most unexpected ways. It was an awakening for her to see the way her heart could soar, as if God himself had elicited it. And right then, her heart was in flight like a bird that knew the way it must go with an instinct that directed its path. It was not God that guided the way. It was her.

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thewildernesschooses · 3 days ago

Text

Stone Cold Sober, a nataliexreader one shot

soooooo, basically you’re close friends with nat and you’re both gay :)

You don’t know why you were even chosen for this. You weren’t the second best shot, Travis was. He should be hiking out to the middle of nowhere where right now, not you. Also, he was a boy and this felt like boy stuff.

Travis was being difficult but no one could give him a particularly hard time about it. Seeing Coach skewered on a tree freaked you all out but it devastated Travis. He wasn’t like this before. He would never be the same.

Coach Ben volunteered you to accompany Natalie on the hunt, he said solo hunting parties were dangerous when hiking that far out. Natalie tried to convince him it was fine but he held firm.

And, yeah, it hurt that Natalie had basically refused to spend time with you alone the entire time you had been stuck in these god-forsaken woods. Especially because she was the one who kissed you.

Natalie didn’t have a car so you gave her rides to things sometimes. Your parents liked to live a little ways from town so you were only a couple of streets over from the trailer park Natalie and Van lived in. You had offered them both a ride but only Natalie accepted, Van had been getting rides from Taissa recently even though you knew Taissa lived by the school. But whatever, if they thought they were being slick with their queer little looks, you would play along. Can’t throw rocks in glass houses and all that.

Usually, it was fun to ride there and back together. You would get slurpees on the way back and Natalie’s parents didn’t care about you guys smoking weed on their porch. That’s the only nice thing you had to say about either of them.

The ride there was standard. Natalie and you always looked a little funny together. You were pretty square, wore whatever your mom got you from the GAP every season. Natalie was something else entirely. She didn’t have much more but she had an identity. You were sometimes envious of that about her. She didn’t feel all this pressure to not be herself.

You got to the party and Natalie went off with her alternative friends. They were apparently trying to score acid but you doubted that ginger kid she hung around wouldn’t get ripped off with some tissue paper. You never drank but you smoked a little, early enough for it to wear off by the time you had to drive home. You wouldn’t want to wrap yourself around a tree the night before nationals.

Shauna and Taissa got into some kind of catfight. Shauna always got confrontational when she was drunk. She kept everything too bottled up sober to not. Jackie tried to fix it but there was no fixing the fact that Taissa subconsciously crippled a freshman.

You were trying to catch Natalie’s eye, you usually would make eye contact when Jackie was acting like an 80s high school rom-com protagonist but she was staring off into space and giggling. Jesus Christ. That ginger managed to score acid.

You got pulled away from the team huddle by some baseball boys you were cool with, they offered you some wine coolers and a ride home but you declined. You weren’t ditching Natalie like this (and you kinda thought they were pigs who were only good for getting joints).

Eventually, you got back to Natalie where she was transfixed on the bonfire. She was mumbling things about Misty Quigley and the Olympics. You just hoped she came down in time for Nationals.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” She didn’t react until you put your hand on her shoulder. She jumped but settled when she realized it was you and smiled. The weed must’ve been strong because you felt floaty all of a sudden again.

She kept looking at you for a little before she stood up. She didn’t follow you until you grabbed her hand to guide her to your car. The person next to you parked like shit so you had to crawl over her in the passenger seat to get to the drivers. She grabbed onto your hips and tried to help you into your seat but it made you feel less coordinated for some reason. You’d really have to get one of those boys to get you more of that weed when you got back.

When you went to shift gears, Nat put her hand on yours. You assumed she was just feeling the LSD and wanted some connection so you let her have it. She was still giggling occasionally, you didn’t know what about. She started tracing her fingers on your palm but you couldn’t make out what she was drawing or writing. Maybe it was just the tactile sensation she wanted.

After a while, you pulled up next to her trailer. She didn’t rush to get out. You didn’t mind if she wanted to stay and talk, you’d always be happy to talk to Natalie, even if she was drugged up and incoherent.

She took a deep breath and turned to face you. You were already looking at her. She was just so cool, it almost hurt. That jacket she never took off, except for practice, looked almost blue in the motion-activated lights.

You thought she was going to say something. Maybe something funny but knowing Nat, it could be something accidentally profound. Instead, she reached over the console and kissed you. Closed mouth, chaste, but a real kiss. She was still holding your hand and everything. You were going to push her away but she backed up first. You thought she would look freaked out but she was still looking at you expectantly. That same look as when she slides her Slurpee next to yours at the counter and just knows you’ll pay for it.

You’re gonna pay for this, you thought to yourself.

“You’re high, Nat. You didn’t mean that.” You nervously chuckle, all of a sudden half hoping she did.

Natalie obviously didn’t see anything awkward or out of place. She was still holding your hand for Christ’s sake. She was smiling at you like you were just the sweetest thing.

“I liked it though.” So cheeky, always. So herself.

You looked down at your joined hands, why hadn’t you let go yet? Why hadn’t she? You liked it too and that scared you.

“Yeah, but Coach Ben talked about how when you’re drunk, you shouldn’t really do stuff with people because they don’t know what they're doing and I’m pretty sure that extends to acid, y’know?

Her voice was all low and gravelly. “So if I wasn’t tripping, you’d come inside?”

“I’m going to assume you didn’t mean that either. You should go inside, Nat. Alone.” You were talking big game for someone who hadn’t let go of her hand yet.

“I don’t want to be alone right now, I want to be kissing you.” How could she just say things like that? Girls didn’t just say things like that. It was uncouth.

You tried to tell her exactly that but she just groaned a little and said “You’re not convincing me you don’t want to kiss me.” She was all pouty and emotional right now. God help you.

You were going to say something stupid because of her. Stupidly honest.

“If you still feel this way tomorrow, we can talk about it then. We’re going to be sharing a room with Taissa and Van and they sneak off together a lot.” She was going to argue before you cut her off by saying, “You’re not going to be able to convince me to take advantage of you.”

She giggled more. “No matter how much you want to?” Starry eyes was not an apt phrase for hers.

You kept looking at her and let go of her hand slowly. What are the odds she even remembers this tomorrow? What the hell, say it. “No matter how much I want to.”

You guessed that was close enough to what she wanted. She got out and skipped to her front door. She looked at your car before walking in and blew you a kiss. You hoped no one saw anything. You hoped she forgot this all because you blew one back.

She obviously didn’t forget it all.

She got out of Van’s mom’s car and didn’t look at you once at the airport. She saw you saving a seat next to yourself and sat a couple of rows up front alone.

The only time she had talked to you, hell, even looked at you, was when she found you after the crash. You had a nasty gash on your calve and your nose was bleeding from a bag falling on your face. Adrenaline had you running from the wreckage further than everybody else because your brain was telling you it was going to explode for some reason. You ran for a minute or two until your leg started to hurt and you realized that no one else was with you. When you didn’t hear any explosions, you started limping back.

It took more time to get back than it did for you to sprint away. You returned to chaos that was mostly directed by Misty Quigley.

Taissa was looking around, shouting Van’s name. Natalie was shouting yours. You were already out of breath but seeing Natalie shouting for you made it worse. You couldn’t get a big enough breath in to let her know you were ok before she saw you and started running.

Your face must’ve looked worse than it was because she lost it. Natalie didn’t show concern like this usually. She was more likely to get pissed off at you for putting yourself in the situation to get hurt. This was panic.

“Are-Are you ok? God! You’re bleeding a lot. I’m going to get Misty, OK? She’s good at this stuff.” She was tempted to touch your face but didn’t know what hurt. She was terrified to make it worse. To hurt you. “Um, lean forward! Wait! No! Lean back. Or does that make the blood go down your throat? Whatever, keep your head like that. I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t really come back after that. She sent Misty to check on you and made sure you were bandaged up but that’s it. She sat next to other people around the fire, passed the water to the person that was next to you, avoided eye contact.

This was why you never let your mind go there. She had opened up all these feelings that you were content to push onto other things like baseball boys and soccer but now you were 100s of miles away from both and the girl you kissed won’t even look at you.

Actually, correction, she kissed you!

And Coach Ben had somehow contrived the worst way to force you guys to be friends again. If friends was even the right word. Two girls don’t get along anymore? Let’s give them a gun about it!

The two of you tromped through the woods in silence for a long time. You had no inclination to lead and certainly no inclination to be to one to break the silence so you quietly followed. You didn’t even know how to tell the cardinal directions.

The complacency made you feel slightly crazy but she owed you an explanation. She practically forced you to admit to whatever you implied you felt and now she has the audacity to act like you made it weird. She’s the one that kissed her girl best friend! Not you!

This was what drove you insane about Nat. She acted on impulse and did what she wanted. She knew who she was and at one point had chosen to honor that. You both admired her for it and regretted the way it inconvenienced the both of you. So why was she so self-conscious now unless she was disgusted by you?

You were never going to do anything about those urges. You knew it was wrong but sometimes you wanted to touch girls the way boys touched girls. You knew Shauna and Jackie practiced kissing so it wasn’t such a weird thing. And Tai and Van seemed to have a thing too. This is why your father didn’t want you to do women’s sports. It did turn you into a lesbian.

Natalie could practically hear you spiraling. She knew you were losing it but didn’t dare to address anything. She was sure you were just being nice to her when you said all that stuff about talking when she was sober. You were nice and from a good family. You didn’t need to throw all that away by turning gay and dating a burnout.

Natalie didn’t want to make you say it. She knew you were too nice to just tell her she was a weird predator. You fought to not have to come with her today even though three weeks ago, you had volunteered to go to Saturday detention with her even though you had no slip. You were sweet like that.

Natalie mourned the inevitable loss of your relationship. She valued your opinion in a way she never had anyone else. She trusted you. She knew you were a good person and Natalie knew how rare that was. Of course, she would go and fuck it all up.

She heard you sniffling. She hoped your nose was ok. It looked like the bruising went away but you started making that nasal sound again.

It took a little for her to realize you were crying. You didn’t cry. Natalie turned around to face you, knowing she had to put an end to this. You obviously were taking it hard.

It was embarrassing for you to cry like this, especially when you were so committed to staying steadfast but you needed Nat, especially with all this crazy shit happening. You couldn’t take her just ignoring you until you got rescued.

Natalie was looking at you with a blank face which made it worse. How could she go from smiling at you to looking like that? You had read everything so wrong.

“I’m sorry I kissed you. I made everything complicated and I didn’t mean to. Can we just forget it happened? Say it was the acid and weed and call it even?” Natalie was trying to act casual like it was no big deal. Just an awkward thing to deal with like walking in on someone changing. But you didn’t want to forget about it. You couldn’t no matter how much you had tried. She had showed you an option you didn’t even know was there. One you kept exploring in your head.

Humiliatingly, you started crying more, wiping the tears away like you could hide them. You practically yelled, “No, you don’t just get to forget about it. You kissed me and you’ve just got to live with it no matter how disgusting you find me.” Not the plan but OK! Emotional honesty had rarely gotten you anywhere good but you could try again.

“What? I don’t find you disgusting?” She looked confused and walked closer as if to prove that to you.

“Then why do you refuse to even look at me? You kissed me! And I’m sorry I kissed back when I knew you were fucked up but I never would take advantage! I didn’t even know I would want to do anything like that until you did it to me first so this is all your fault.”

Natalie scoffed. “My fault? You’re the one that let me hold your hand the whole ride. You got in my lap on the way in!”

“I’m not going to do this with you. Let’s just turn back and tell Coach we can’t do this together.” You tried to school your expression. She totally didn’t read that right. You weren’t flirting that whole night.

You turn around to walk back to the cabin when she grabs your hand. That same hand you kept on the gear shift. The one she held before your worst nightmares came true.

It was enough to make you turn around. She was always enough to make you turn around.

She struggles to say it but Nat asks “Were you serious? About talking about it later? You weren’t just saying that to be nice so you could let me down easy later?” Natalie wasn’t usually unsteady like this. Sure of herself was her natural state.

“No, I wanted to talk about it at Nationals but…you know.” You were going to try being honest. “I liked what happened.”

Natalie exhaled something close to a chuckle like she couldn’t believe it. “I did too. Like it, I mean.” You squeezed her hand that had grabbed yours

You made the same sort of chuffed sound. “What does this all mean?” You asked.

She squeezed your hand, “Whatever you want it to mean.”

That was difficult because you had no idea. Natalie was the one who always knew what she wanted. She could walk into any thrift store and find herself in the racks, could walk into any classroom and find the person that was broken like her. You had spent most of high school feeling the contact high that was Natalie Scatorccio. Now she was asking you to score some on your own.

But maybe that was tiring, always being sure. Maybe it wasn’t as natural for her as it was necessary.

You braced yourself, about to say something ridiculous, “Maybe we could just do what we want out here. Figure it out a little more before we decide.” It felt contradictory that your big exploration of self started with being comfortable with not knowing but you figured that’s how it usually went. Acknowledging you have a problem first and all that.

“Does figuring it out involve kissing you again?” She was always so cheeky, you’re glad the plane crash didn’t take that.

“If that’s what you want.”

“I think it’s what I’ve wanted for a while.” She stepped even closer to you. The distance you two would usually have when she was telling you a secret.

And you knew this was all supposed to be a secret. That you both would get home soon and probably forget all about this. Baseball boys and goths would get in between the both of you. But for now, in the woods, away from your conservative father and judgemental eyes, you could finally just do what you wanted. And you wanted to kiss Natalie fucking Scatorccio, stone-cold sober.

#yellowjackets fics #shaunajackie #shauna shipman #natalie scatorccio #travis martinez #van palmer #x reader #natalie yellowjackets #natalie x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets fic #yellowjackets #slight tai/van #taissa turner #nataliexreader

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aforeffective · 3 days ago

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moving day

a helping hand au blurb | paul + curtis bros, background chetsoda, parry exes | au explanation here

it was an odd feeling for pony, moving out of the house he grew up in. even weirder is knowing that the house wasn't fully out of his life. he doesn't know if that makes it better or worse, knowing him and soda are moving out, while darry is being left behind.

pony shook those thoughts out of his head as he looked up from his notebook at the sound of someone speaking.

"aren't you supposed to be packing?" it was chet, one of paul's soc friends. another odd thing that seemed to be the new normal in the curtis house: socs. in the few weeks it took for all the paperwork to be filed and everything to be settled, paul and darry had introduced the boys to some of paul's friends, hoping to make the adjustment easier.

chet wasn't too bad, though. he was kinda funny and pony had vague memories of him hanging around soda when they were young so him being in the curtis house wasn't that freaky of a sight. it was the time paul brought cherry valance and bob sheldon over that made pony question how his life ended up like this.

"i'm drawing the house. don't wanna forget what it looks like." that wasn't actually what he was drawing but chet didn't need to know that.

chet put his hands up in surrender and shrugged. "where's soda? in your room?"

"yeah, him and steve are in there, finishing up packing. soda decided to wait til the last minute."

chet laughed to himself as he waved to pony and started down the hall to help the other boys pack.

pony put his notebook into his backpack, figuring now that even more people were here to help, he should also start doing something. unlike soda, pony had decided to pack his couple of boxes the day before. it didn't take that long, he didn't need to take everything. just the stuff he would really need or want for the next couple of weeks while he gets settled at paul's; then they can go through and see what else he needs and what else they need to move or possibly buy.

"do y'all need help?" pony called out to paul and darry as he walked outside to darry's truck in the driveway.

darry looked at paul and then the truck before answering. "nah. just one more box to load in the truck. i think we're just gonna drive this over and let soda and chet use paul's car to bring soda's boxes over."

pony looks over at paul's car and laughed. "i don't think that car is even big enough to fit just his hair products."

darry laughed as we walked by pony, smacking his shoulder. "don't act like you don't have a whole bag full of different gels and greases."

pony turned to smack him back but he dodged out of the way, going back inside to grab the last box. pony whipped back around when he heard paul laughing.

"it wasn't that funny." paul's laughter didn't stop so pony rolled his eyes and continued. "so now that you and darry are coparenting-"

this made paul's laughter stop as he choked on his surprise. "what? i wouldn't call it coparenting. don't call it that."

pony raised his eyebrow, noticing the older boy's face becoming red. "is that not what you're doing?"

paul lifted his hand to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck as he answered. "no. i mean, not really. we're just working together to make sure you guys are staying housed and fed and to keep you guys out of trouble."

"wow. if only there were a word for that." pony faked a gasp, as he tried to hold back his laughter at the look of irritation on paul's face. "oh wait, there is! coparenting."

"okay, you don't have to be a smartass." despite paul's words, pony could hear a hint of amusement in his voice.

pony quickly looked back to make sure darry was still inside before turning back to paul, lowering his voice. "dude, you can't swear around me. darry's like super strict about it, for some reason. he'll be upset if he hears you saying stuff like that around me. even dally knows not to because darry freaks."

paul's eyes widened, terrified of doing something that will upset darry. "wait, seriously? like for real? shit- i mean, not- no," a look of realization crosses paul's face as he shakes his head and continues. "wait, no. i've heard him and the gang swear around you before! fuck you, dude. you had me for a second."

as pony had been messing with paul, darry had come back outside with the last box in his arms. he nudged pony as he walked by. "okay, pone, take it easy on him."

"what? he knows i'm just messing with him." darry rolls his eyes at his youngest brother while he places the last box in the truck.

"okay, come on, let's go. you coming along for the ride, pony?"

pony nodded and went to get in the truck. paul opened the passenger door, letting pony slide in first.

"thanks, dad." pony said as he sat down, giving paul the biggest grin he could.

darry let out a loud laugh as he got into the drivers seat, shutting up once he noticed paul's glare at him.

"do not call me that, oh my god."

paul got in the truck as pony spoke. "well why not?"

"because it's weird. i'm only 6 years older than you, ya know?"

darry rolled his eyes as he began driving, knowing he was about to have to listen to pony purposely annoy paul and paul continuously falling for it for the whole day.

"are you not legally my father now?"

darry interrupted the conversation before paul could answer pony. "so, are you regretting it yet?"

pony laughed and looked towards paul expectantly. "well, are you?"

paul just smiled at the boys, knowing this decision was something he would never regret. "not yet, only because i have a voice chanting in my head that he's doing it on purpose to be a little shit."

#a helping hand au #hh!au #i love this au so bad #the outsiders musical #the outsiders broadway #the outsiders au #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #paul holden #parry #pauldarry #chetsoda

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vin-solar-nightsky · 2 days ago

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Suicide warning

(I finished the rant hahaha)

I remember hearing one time that the reason why Mike was kinda a asshole in s4 is because of bottle up emotions and I freaking love that so I'ma talk bout it (the more I wrote the more it felt like a headcannon but shhh) (I do also talk a little bout Will trauma btw)

I'm a firm believer that Mike compares his trauma with others, or more importantly with Will's. Will by far had gone through the worst out of the party; (except maybe Max but shhh.) with being kidnapped into a darker, sadder, and dangerous version of his own world. and was stuck there for a week, to be just barely saved by Hopper. (who was having a mental break down, and breaking the boi ribs.) and then, his body is used as a spy. Mike was always there for Will, and listened to him. Mike knows what Will went through was worst then his own experience. and because of that; he doesn't often talk about his own trauma. when Will opened up to Mike about what he went through in s2 crazy together scene, Mike briefly mentions his own problem of seeing things that isn't there. it isn't the same as Will's problem, but similar enough for Will to not feel alone. that was Mike's goal. Mike has only opened up to two people in the show, and those people were Will, and Mike's mother; Karen. of which where Mike opened up to Will; about Eleven, and a tab bit about how he felt like he lost Will (again). and Mike opened up to Karen; by being engulfed in a embrace.. there was no words, just a silent understanding. she knew when he lost Will. back when he thought Will died, and when Will moved to California. And she was there for him. (I didn't realize how much I love Mike and Karen relationship until now. I loved writing this mother son part). something that Mike never talked about, that he bottles up. is that he tried to kill himself in s1. and yes, he did it to help Dustin. but I like to think that was the thing that pushed him. Mike had lost his bestfriends, and was losing the strand of hope to be able to find him. one of his friends; Dustin had a knife to his face, and if he didn't jump now, the bully; Troy will carve Dustin teeth out so... he jumped.. preparing himself to fall into the water, that'll feel like concrete. that he saw Will fake body getting pulled out of-..and he floats, Eleven saved his life. and after that day, they never talked about it. only Mike, Eleven, and Dustin knew of this incident. and only Mike knows he wanted to hit the water... With this scene never being brought up again, I feel like it's because Mike couldn't talk about it. his biggest concern was Will, and when Will gotten back safe he couldn't talk about it to Will, because he just gotten him back. he didn't want to ruin the mood. Will already gone through so much..."Will doesn't need to hear or know about it... It's not like i actually died..."

#stanger things #mike wheeler #headcannons #rant post #byler #karen wheeler #will byers #dustin henderson #eleven hopper #suic1de #sad shit

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spicy-cannoli · 1 day ago

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Could someone pls write a fic where Saiki and Rifuta are close? Like specifically she’s smart enough to notice Saiki is a tsundere freak who somehow magically resolved peoples problems without them noticing, but instead of confronting him about she just straight first to him everyone now and then like “wow it’s so annoying X guy keeps stalking me, really wish he’d stop” and leaves and mysteriously the guy has a change of heart and trembles whenever he sees her.

Like she knows this man has some sort of power, she realises he’s not into her or Teruhashi, why not use him?

And they end up becoming closer, sort of in a sibling kinda way, where she annoys him and he complains about her but they like each other. And Saiki has someone who knows something is up but isn’t even asking shit and he feels comfortable being a bit weird around her like he is with Aiura.

I JUST THINK ITD BE CUTE!!!!!! Maybe Imu/Kokomi and Saiki/Satou or Saiki/Kuboyasu? She could bully him abou his crush and he’d be like I don’t??? Have a crush???

They can bitch about other people together 🥺 is anyone seeing my vision????

Also if this seems familiar I’ve made set for this au before

#rifuta imu #imu rifuta #saiki kusuo #kusuo saiki #saiki no psi nan #saiki k #the disastrous life of saiki k.

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mariasont · 3 days ago

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i've been rereading your spencer x shy!reader because he's my favorite ✨ i really feel represented by shy!reader and I love how soft and gentle he is with her. And I imagine him being so comfortable with her that he falls asleep on her head on the jet and she'd be so still and kinda freaking out on the inside (a little on the outside too, of course) 💕

see this makes me so happy bc i also think the reason he's so gentle with her is because he knows what it's like to feel small, in a way? and like to feel like you're too much and not enough at the same time. and i think a part of him really aches when he sees her hesitate or flinch or stumble through words (even though he can still be a cocky little shit ab it but like... he's nice ab it) because that used to be him. and he doesn't want her to have to learn everything the hard way. so he offers softness where no one offered it to him. pls don't look at me. im actively tearing up lmao

AND THE JETTTTT STOP !!!!!!!!!! thoughts below ->

it definitely happens by accident, they're both exhausted, the flight is sooo long, and he'd be sitting closer than normal because someone else took his usual seat. and she'd definitely just be trying to read or journal or do something quiet, but every so often she'd glance over and see his eyes fluttering shut, and then, without warning, his head would tip sideways and land on her shoulder.

and she just. freezes.

internally she's like: okay okay okay. do not breathe too loud. don't move. pretend to be dead if necessary

externally, she would just sit there wide-eyed, letting him sleep with she's dying (just like me fr). and when he ends up stirring a little and murmurs like sorry, she'd just whisper back like it's okay and then they'd both sit there so awkwardly for the rest of the flight. ugh i love them. need to write them again so soon.

#shy!reader #schrodingers headcanon #💌

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cloyingblccd · 3 days ago

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With startling speed, Soren sat up from his lounging position, staring at Maeve a bit dumbfounded. Mouth agape, brows furrowed - almost like he was frustrated, but it was clear that he was anything but. He’d been called a multitude of things, from compliments to insults he wasn’t even able to repeat. Soren had never heard someone speak the way Maeve did - describe him as such, even if she were merely taking his own bit and running away with it, adding onto it like they’d been friends for ages and he’d understand her references. But he didn’t know her well, and it all read to him as entertaining, distractingly so. There wasn’t much he expected from this interaction - until now. Throwing his head back and bursting into laughter so high-pitched and loud that it echoed off the hedges around them.

“What the fuck’re you saying? Do you talk to everyone like this?” Soren asked, wiping at the tip of his nose, already rosey and threatening to spill with his laughter. Nosebleeds settling as he aged, tacking it down to nothing but his body adjusting to his own evolutionary process and plugging up his nostrils at every threat. But now he could feel the real sting of one wanting to come on - always agitated by his own excitement, the way belly-laughing always shifted all his features until sometimes, he had no choice but to let it happen. It’d be a tick for the rest of their time together, Soren swiping gently at the almost bulbous and rounded end of his nose, attempting to stave off any sudden spouts. “M’not laughing at you - like, just to clarify. I’m not a total cunt. You just… I don’t even know. Don't know what to make of that.” A pause, before he took a deep inhale from his cigarette, nodding like she’d just said something rather profound. “I think you’d be the only one to watch that one. But it’d get, like, twenty movies - you’re the sole fan to keep the series going.” It might’ve been a statement that could’ve been read into deeper, but Soren had become an expert at masking anything and everything that had meaning until it sounded like nothing more than discussing the weather.

“Ah, s’fine. Kinda appreciate a mystery. Though I figure Meryl Streep’s gotta be - I dunno, the most attractive a person’s ever been in it. Maybe I’d watch just for that.” Raising a brow, Soren appreciated that Maeve seemed to just - delve into his teasing accusations, admitting to the truth of his observations with an ease he’d never have. It was respectable, albeit a bit intimidating. Hoped the half-truths and jokes Soren could conjure up would appease her, even if it wasn’t even close to what she offered up to him in return. “Perverted? Thought you were gonna call yourself controlling and leave it at that. Good to know you’re a total freak in the sheets too, though I hope you know I don’t roll like that. I’m saving myself for marriage.” They shared a glance then - all Soren could do was pinch his lips, attempt to hide back an almost animalistic grin. He loved being in on a joke with someone, and while they were only just meeting, he knew Maeve already knew him enough to know he had never been serious a day in his life, let alone in this moment. “Yeah? Me too.”

It slipped out of his mouth so easily, letting her know he was an eldest sibling as well, that Soren didn’t even process it. Like he’d just admitted to waking up that morning - something that happened every day, talking about it with a comfortability as such. But he hadn’t talked about Reese in so long that since arriving to Palladian, he’d masqueraded as an only child - only one other person here knowing that he’d had a sibling at all. Soren wasn’t sure if he was obvious in his reaction, attempting to backtrack so pathetically he was sure he flinched while simultaneously paling, jerking forward like he could physically eat his own words. “Or -,” he started, squinting slightly - thinking way too hard about how he was going to pretend he was joking without making it obvious he wasn’t. But as soon as he’d become worried, he became distracted. Glancing down at their suddenly conjoined hands and intertwining their fingers together like they’d done it a hundred times. Soren was like this with most people, treating intimacies like they were currency and he was too impulsive to even save up for a pack of smokes. His gaze stuck to their hands though he shared in her indifference, both of them apparently trying to prove this was fine, this was normal - smoking and ashing their cigarettes at the same time. It made Soren burst into laughter all over again, never one to feign modesty, unsure why he ever even tried. Instead, he tightened his grip on their hands, tugging Maeve closer - innocent with it, really, still a good distance between them, but where someone would give an inch, Soren would always take a mile.

“My hands are always cold. It’s a part of my charm.” Maeve. Her name was about as fitting as possible - she wasn’t hard to understand so much as hard to tack down. Frankly, Soren couldn’t tell if she hated him or was genuinely reassuring him, tone indifferent but touch encouraging. If she’d remained a nameless enigma, it would’ve suited him just fine, but Maeve was nice as well. “Pretty.” He commented casually. Against his will, Soren snorted again - wiping at the tip of his nose - at her guesses. “Cassian? Like the Narnia guy?” Acting like he didn’t know, despite being an avid reader in his youth. “And what’s so bad about Griffin? That sounds like… I don’t know. Someone from Game of Thrones, or something. Fuckin’ hell, Maeve, bit judgemental. What if one of those were actually my name? Totally shaming me and you don’t even know the real one yet.” Hesitating, Soren debated the pros and cons of drawing out the grand reveal of his name. Which wasn’t really grand at all - but it’d mean that she’d know who he was. Incapable of hiding after that, really. But she’d been so honest with him thus far - it only felt fair. And yet, she had a noticeable habit of diverting his attention at every pitstop. Ready to introduce himself, even shuffling to hold out his other hand and make a grand show of it, but she beat him to the punch. Touching through his hair, wandering amongst unbrushed curls like they’d been here before. It felt familiar - Soren already leaning into her touch and allowing the affection with a gentle grin, languid flutter of his lashes.

He felt shy, only momentarily, when her thumb grazed at his temple, threatening to brush right against where a deep scar ran. Only revealing the raised skin to someone for the first time days prior. He wouldn’t say anything about it, though he knew she must’ve felt it a few times. “This is bullying. I’ve never even dyed my hair before. Can’t help what’s natural, y’know.” It was the truth - hair untouched and as legitimate as the day he’d been born. “I don’t actually mind the biting - but fuck, I’d be so god damn ugly bald. Spare the hair for the general public’s sake.” He chuckled with it, making a joke, though he moved with intent. Dropping and subsequently stubbing out his cigarette to his side so that he had a free hand to loop around her waist, tug her forward. Testing the waters - encouraging her to move into his lap, but ready to retract if she didn’t appreciate the gesture. Soren still couldn’t tell where he stood, going a bit crazy with her monotonous mocking then surprising him with constant delicate contact. It made him cloudy, wanting more but unsure of how to ask for it. “Soren.” It felt like a confession, finally offering up his name like it was an olive branch. “Does that tickle your fancy or are you gonna tell me I’m, like. A washed up porn star from the 70’s with a trashy background?”

the hedges were tall enough to drown the world, that eerie kind of green that made everything feel a little too alive. the garden was quiet except for the breeze and the occasional rustle of leaves — like the maze had ears and a wicked sense of humor. maeve sat back into the grass, legs crossed at the ankle, spine loose but gaze unyielding, like she was only half-invested in this game of theirs but couldn’t stop playing. her fingers toyed idly with a blade of grass, twisting it until it snapped. she was perched like a cat in the grass, ankles crossed, one elbow hooked around her knee while the other hand held a half-burned cigarette. she took a drag, lazy and practiced, letting the smoke roll from her lips without care. her gaze drifted toward soren with that unreadable, upper-east-side polish — like she might mock you or kiss you, maybe both.

“you do have the bone structure of someone who thinks ‘main character’ is a medical condition,” she said at last, smoke curling from her mouth like punctuation. “very ‘exiled prince of saturn,’ very ‘destined to fall in love with a mortal and ruin everything in the final act.’” her tone was dry, but her grin betrayed her. “i’d watch the movie. you wear the tragic alien identity disturbingly well. must be exhausting, being this charming.” when he went off about sophie’s choice, she tilted her head and gave him a look — half amused, half horrified. “i have seen the movie,” she said, exhaling smoke to the side. “not really a fun conversation starter, but i respect the chaos. and no, i won’t tell you who she picks. spoilers, obviously.”

he accused her of making decisions too fast and her mouth quirked, observations throw at each other like a fun game of ping pong — it was exhilarating to have the energy thrown back in her face, especially after the night she'd had. “yeah, i like making decisions for people sometimes,” she said, a little too easily. she shifted her weight, brushing lightly against his thigh before she crossed it again, the movement casual but un-ignorable if paying attention. “some perverted dominant emotional lifestyle i guess. stuck since childhood. probably something to do with being the oldest and watching my siblings eat glue.” she took another slow drag from her cigarette, eyes half-lidded now. “oldest sibling syndrome. i was handing out stickers and ultimatums before i could spell ‘manipulative.’” and then — like it meant nothing at all — she reached out and took his hand.

no hesitation. no warning. he didn’t need one, she figured. just warm fingers slipping between his colder ones, like it was the most obvious choice in the world. they were mismatched in every visible way: his sun-bleached chaos against her sculpted composure. irreverent jokes tossed like stones into the calm of her stillness. but when she reached for is hand, it was less surrender and more experiment — like she was pressing a button just to see what would happen. her cigarette rested between two fingers in her other hand, flicked idly, the ash drifting off like falling snow. “you brought it up,” she murmured, voice a little lower. “thought you were being cute. figured i could make it weird. plus your hands are ridiculously cold, jesus,” she noted, as if ordered by the doctor himself to aid. her thumb ran a slow circle along the back of his hand, subtle but unmistakably intimate. she tapped the ash from her cigarette with her free hand and didn’t let go. “i’m maeve,” she said, finally. “so you don’t have to keep calling me ma’am. unless that’s your thing. no kink-shaming, of course,” bit between mauve lips, her eyes trailed over him like she was trying to decide something, sharp but not judging.

“you, though?” she tilted her head, lips curved around another drag. “you look like a tristan. or a cassian. something ridiculous that sounds like it belongs in a sad victorian novel or a really bad fantasy series.” she flicked ash again, then looked down at their hands. “don’t tell me it’s something boring like… griffin. or maybe you’re just steve and i’ve overestimated everything about you. go on then, what is it? if it’s griffin, i’m leaving the maze and never speaking to you again.” and then — very gently — she reached up with the hand that held the cigarette, now stubbed out and still faintly warm between her fingers. she tucked it behind her, then let that same hand wander up, brushing into his hair. her fingers threaded through the soft curls like she had every right to them, her thumb grazing his temple. it was the nicotine buzz in her head, a drunken hum that hung between the two despite sober, and the ease of settling into a stranger that left her matching his energy without care.

“god,” she muttered, amused in observation. “it’s like you dunked your whole head in the amc popcorn butter machine.” she tugged lightly at a curl, tilting her head as if inspecting it under some invisible light. “edible. did you know that?” her voice dropped conspiratorially, like this was a shared scandal. “i mean — criminally yellow. like if you stood still too long i’d accidentally snack on you.” her fingers stayed where they were, buried just slightly in his hair, and she looked at him like she was debating whether or not to keep teasing or let the silence say it for her. in the end, her mouth curved. “don’t worry, blondie,” she said, deliberately nicknaming again. “i only bite when provoked though.”

#soren thompson | interactions #soren thompson | maeve sheppard #this isnt my best work</3 #i hope u love it anyway or i'll leave the rp

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