#but he's on the edge of psychological free fall

[curlysfist]

04. Bass Fugato

Coda

Synopsis: Eventually, the bile rises back from his throat, smears his teeth, and burns him whole. (tw suicidal ideation, unethical medical practices, curly’s misogynistic + trad awakening, manhandling, likely ooc curly. MINORS DNI.)

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter Navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4]

Notes: hehe. this is what i was building up to write... i love you misogynistic curly my beloved.

Call it an impulse, call it a consequence, or the price of free will.

Curly didn’t know what exactly called him to scale the abandoned parking lot; nor did he understand why he was so compelled to stand on the rooftop, feet planted on the very edge of it. It’s not like he wanted to die. He hadn’t a single suicidal bone in his body.

But he was curious, what stood between where he was, and the plummeting depths below. A conclusion to his lifetime of cowardice, probably. Likely something more, beyond the bleak loneliness of space. 

You were at home, sleeping. He was rougher with you, in all the places he hadn’t before. You seemed to take it well, enjoy what was never in his nature. 

Fuck. Just what did any of this mean? And why was he so compelled to find the answer to this stupid question? It was only a step and a short fall away. Maybe everything he’d wanted in his life would be there. His past would be meaningless. 

But was it cowardly to abandon what he had now, or cowardly to forego a future possibility?

He closed his eyes, feeling the wind tug at him, daring him to let go. A part of him wanted to. But a deeper, quieter part whispered something else—stay. Not for you, not for love, not even for the hollow comfort of familiarity. Stay, because nothing else had worked, and maybe, just maybe, there was something left to try.

With a sharp exhale, Curly stepped back from the edge. All this will be a reliable end if that ache gets worse. It’s all it should ever be. 

It’s as good a day as any could be.

He’d finished with what little he had to do early: went on a run, did some pumps that bit his muscles in all the right places, and made breakfast. He even cleaned up after himself. It was only 9 AM. Not much else to do.

Curly rolled his shoulders, feeling the pleasant ache settle in his muscles. For a fleeting moment, there was a quiet satisfaction in the routine, in the control of it. But the moment passed quickly, leaving him restless, an itch under his skin that had nowhere to go.

His feet carried him without thought, wandering through the apartment, past the things that were once his, now softened by your touch, your choices. He found himself outside your study, the door ajar just enough to peek inside.

He hesitated.

It wasn’t like he was snooping. Just looking.

The desk was cluttered, as it always was. Your laptop sat open, but it was the papers strewn across the surface that caught his eye. 

His name. Over and over. Scattered across the desk like the pieces of a shattered mirror, each page imaged detailed pieces of himself to form a dirty, wounded reflection. Curly stepped in, his stomach twisting with a visceral unease. He reached for one of the papers, fingers brushing it like touching something dangerous, and scanned the words before his brain could keep up.

‘Unresolved attachment issues. Aversion to emotional vulnerability.’

His jaw tightened. He shuffled through the stack. Psychological assessments; evaluations of him.

‘Need for control rooted in a lack of foundational self-worth.’

‘Reluctance to assert needs or boundaries due to chronic validation-seeking behaviour.’

It was accurate. Too accurate. But as he read, that accuracy only made it worse. Every carefully worded observation, every neat, clinical summation of his entire fucking life reduced him to a collection of symptoms, carving away anything human until all that remained was a hollowed-out list of defects. His life—his essence—is compressed into bullet points and diagnoses. 

A project. A broken thing to be analyzed, studied, fixed.

It didn’t say anything about the nights he stayed up with you, laughing at dumb movies. It didn’t mention how he still carried the lessons he learned from falling on his ass a thousand times, or the times he made people feel safe just by being around. None of that was here. Just deficits. Weaknesses.

‘Subject exhibits passive tendencies that indicate a deep-seated need for external guidance.’

Subject. Subject.

His grip tightened on the paper, fingers curling so tight the edges crumpled. Is that all he was to you? A case study? A puzzle you were piecing together in your spare time?

His eyes landed on another section; this one made his stomach twist.

‘Potential paths for improvement: Encourage assertive behaviour within a structured environment to counteract learned helplessness.’

Learned helplessness. Fuck.

His breathing grew uneven, heat rising to his face. Is this what you thought of him? That he was just some helpless thing trailing in your shadow, waiting for you to guide him to salvation? His fists clenched at his sides, muscles twitching with restrained anger.

And then, there it was: the final blow.

A note, scrawled in the margins, like an afterthought.

‘Sometimes I think he doesn't even know what he wants. Maybe he never has.’

Curly’s heart slammed against his ribs. He swallowed the lump in his throat, but it did nothing to smother the sick, simmering feeling inside him.

This wasn’t just disregard. This was everything. Every ounce of himself, every scrap of pride and autonomy he had left, compressed down into a neat little file for your convenience.

He let the papers fall from his hand, his pulse a steady, pounding drum in his ears.

You thought he didn’t know what he wanted?

Curly’s lips curled into a humorless smile, something dark and bitter rising inside him.

He stood there for a long moment, the papers scattered at his feet like the remnants of something he should have seen coming. His hands flexed and curled at his sides, itching for something—anything—to ground himself. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of your study, the soft scent of your perfume lingering in the air, and the sharp, suffocating realization that you’d been dissecting him like some kind of fucking specimen.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand down his face.

Alright. Fine.

He turned and left the room without a sound, but each step felt heavier than the last. He could feel the tension coiling inside him, wrapping tight around his chest like a wire about to snap. Every second, every breath, the weight of it pressed harder.

By the time he found you in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book in your hands, he wasn’t even sure what he was going to say. But it didn’t matter, because the second you looked up at him, eyes soft and warm like you hadn’t just shattered something inside him, it all came rushing out.

“Is that what I am to you?” His voice was low, rough, edged with something. “A fucking case study?”

Your brows knit together in confusion. “What?”

Curly’s jaw tightened, and he took a slow, measured step forward. “Don’t do that.” His voice was sharper now. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

You blinked at him, setting the book down. “Curly, what—”

“I saw them.” His words cut through your sentence, and the shift in his tone made your lips part slightly in surprise. He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “The psych evaluations. My life—my mind—spread out like some kind of fucking school project.” He took another step forward, and this time you leaned back slightly. “Is that what I am to you?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out at first. When you finally spoke, it was quiet, careful. “Curly, it’s not like that.”

He let out a breathless, bitter laugh. “Then what the hell is it like?”

You hesitated, and that hesitation was enough. It was all he needed. His patience, his restraint—whatever fragile thing had been holding him together—shattered in an instant.

Before you could react, he was on you, hands gripping the arms of the couch on either side of you, caging you in. His face was inches from yours, his breathing heavy, controlled, but his eyes—his eyes were something else entirely.

“You think you get to decide what I need? What’s best for me?” His voice was a low, dangerous rasp, the weight of it pressing down on you like a physical force. “You think I don’t know myself well enough, so you had to do it for me?”

Your lips parted in protest, but he cut you off again, his voice rising just enough to make your breath hitch.

“No. Not this time.” His grip on the couch tightened, knuckles white. “I’m done letting you make the calls. I’m done being your goddamn… pet project.” He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing yours, but there was no tenderness in it—just the sharp, electric tension that had been building for too long. “If you want to stay in my life, you do it my way. Do you hear me?”

Your breath trembled against his skin, and for the first time in a long time, he saw something other than certainty in your eyes. Doubt.

Good.

After a moment, your fingers hesitantly found his shirt, grasping it tightly as your face pressed itself into his neck. He doesn’t waver, and he doesn’t breathe a word, even when your hands tremble, and dampness smears the skin of his neck.

He lets you breathe for a moment, a small mercy he allows, before sitting on the couch and dragging you right onto his lap. His instincts war against the rational part of his mind, leading to a palpable stiffness in his limbs as he struggles to not hold you too tight. For all your indifference and unwavering nature, you always have bruised so easily.

But was it wrong that everything felt so fucking right, seeing you tremble on his lap with the uncertainty that plagued him, weighing on your shoulders? 

Thumbing your cheek with a calloused thumb, coaxing you to shamefully meet his gaze, he spoke quietly.

“You don’t respect me.”

“I—I do—”

“You don’t do this to a man you respect.”

“I just wanted to help you.”

“You didn’t. You made everything worse,” he muttered, pinching your cheek gently while the other hand settled on your hip, squeezing the flesh. You don’t push at him, instead shifting your hips to sit more comfortably on his lap, straddling his thighs. 

Curly’s hand on your hip, though tense, wasn’t threatening anymore. It felt like an anchor, like he was trying to keep both of you from spiraling into something neither of you could come back from. His fingers dug into your skin, but the pressure was different now, not out of anger, but as if he was grounding himself—and you.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, his voice a quiet command. “Just stop talking.” His words weren’t laced with venom, but with something harder—something like control. He’d taken the papers, the clinical assessments, the theories, and thrown them out the window. His being isn’t a collection of issues. 

“You think you’re the one who’s been hurt in this, don’t you?” Curly’s voice was low, steady

You opened your mouth, but he cut you off, palm pressing to your lips.

“You’ve been so busy trying to make everything right that you’ve lost track of what really matters,” he continued, his voice rough but calm, measured. “What matters is us. And you don’t get to decide what that looks like.

“I want kids. I want a small home near the woods. Away from the noise of this stupid fucking city. We’ll get married, we’ll pack our shit, and we’ll leave. On my dime.”

Your head bows, nose brushing against the stubble of his jaw. A pause, and then you spoke. 

“You’re serious?” The words barely made it out, caught somewhere between disbelief and something darker you didn’t want to name. You were so close now, so tangled in the warmth of his presence that it was hard to tell where you ended and he began.

“When have you ever known me to joke about something like this?” His voice was calm. Calmer than the turmoil in your mind.

You leaned back just enough to look at him, your eyes searching his face for cracks—some sign that he wasn’t as steady as he seemed. But his expression was unyielding.

“Curly,” you began, your voice softer than you intended, “this isn’t something you just decide on a whim. People don’t—”

He cut you off, his head tilting as if he were observing something small and fragile. “People don’t what? Make decisions for themselves? Take control of their own lives?” His lips quirked, not quite a smile. “Sounds exhausting, being the one holding the reins all the time. Maybe you should try letting go.”

“That’s not what I meant.” The words rushed out, defensive, but they felt hollow even as you said them.

He let out a quiet laugh, low and bitter, his gaze locking onto yours. “Of course not. You never mean anything, do you? You just... guide. Shape. Mold. All for my own good though, right?”

“Don’t twist this,” you snapped, though your voice trembled. “I’ve always been trying to help you.”

“Help?” He scoffs softly, his hand slithering to cup the back of your neck, then gently tugging your hair, goading you to look at him. It was hard to. “You mean help me become the version of me that fits your description? That’s not help.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came. There was something about the way he was looking at you now that froze the thoughts in your mind before you could grab hold of them.

“I let you steer for years,” he said, voice steady but cutting. “Told myself it was safer that way, easier. But letting someone else lead? It’s never where you need to go. It’s always where they think you should be."

“I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” He leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted over your skin, close enough that his presence felt overwhelming. “Didn’t mean to strip me down piece by piece? Didn’t mean to leave me feeling like nothing I do is ever enough?”

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, but the words carried no weight.

“No,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous softness. “It’s not. But fair doesn’t matter, does it?”

The air between you felt too heavy, oppressive, and you realized too late that he wasn’t waiting for a response. He wasn’t asking.

“Curly—”

“No. Enough. I’m sick of your voice. I made myself clear. Once I get some things put together, we’ll start preparing for a baby and move into the countryside.”

Again, you opened your mouth to speak, but he tugged your hair again, a little rougher.

“Enough.”

You fall quiet.

“...Good. Good girl,” he sighs, softening the slightest bit, cupping your jaw, fingers digging to the soft of your cheek. “I get that in your field, drugging your patients is the key to happiness. I wouldn’t be surprised if you eventually would’ve tried to prescribe me something.

“...”

“Hundreds of years, societies found happiness in their homestead. The answer doesn’t need to be some bullshit established just a couple of decades ago. So be quiet, and I’ll bring us somewhere peaceful. Spiritually and physically, because God help me, I’m done with this shit.”

A pause. You contemplate.

Then, with uncertainty, you nod quietly. With a huff of a laugh, he kisses your forehead.

“I knew you’d understand. You’ve always been smart.”

[brummiereader]

Binding Love (Part Six/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: Your new life, far away from the soot and fog, from your husband's raging paranoia and murders committed in the name of love, has feelings of guilt surface as your daughter continues to demand the whereabouts of her father. But even the false hope of a bright future faces jeopardy when you run into a familiar face in your small hamlet as Tommy spirals into madness back home in Birmingham.

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst, murder, suicidal thoughts, use of one racial slur.

Word Count: 3K

[Masterlist] [Previous Part] [Trailer]

"Back again so soon" the raven-haired woman with a stack of jangling gold bangles and bulky stoned rings adorning her skin squinted with a smirk as she looked up through the midday sun to your husband hovering over the fire she had lit, its ashes swirling into the chilly winter skies.

" 10 shillings. One reading" Tommy blew a cloud of smoke down to her rising feet. The length of her dress trailed in mud from her hardened life on the road her free spirit called to, flowing behind her as she walked to her wagon.

" 20" she replied, knobbly fingers curling around the framed door to her home with an ushering nod of her head for your husband to follow her into the rickety wooden trailer, to the smell of sandalwood and frankincense burning as she placed the small gas lantern clutched in her hand onto its stand.

"15. And this time, you'll tell me where she is" Tommy's eyes darkened, grabbing her chin between his fingers as she hissed into her cushioned seat to the small table clothed in red and the stack of cards sat in the center.

Three times in one week Tommy had made the journey to the old woman's lonely wagon atop of the rocky field in the green pastures of the Black Country by horseback. Each time seeking answers to the burning question of your whereabouts that had sent him into a spiraling madness in the short time he had spent imprisoned. A time short lived thanks to his trusted friend Johnny Dogs knack and acquired skill at the removal and disposal of dead bodies.

But in the time that was spent pacing back and forth in his iron-clad cell, Tommy had entered a state of mind far darker than he'd entered with. With only whispered gossip leading to empty ends, your husband had resorted to the only thing his maddening mind sought. Other worldly guidance. His last and only chance to find you and his daughter.

"The child's toy" the wild haired woman's hand snapped out, crimson talons grabbing Elsie's cherished pony from your husband's fingers as her piercing eyes roamed over the shuffled cards, head gesturing with a snap for Tommy to pick the response he yearned to dull the torture he felt inside.

" Speak, old woman" Tommy demanded her toying response from her as he forced the card in her hand over onto the table.

" Thrashing waves, she stands on the cliff's edge. Your bern in her arms" her giggling voice watched the widening stare of your husband with satisfaction, his jaw clenching at the same card that had been dealt over and over again to his waiting eyes as she pushed it across the table with a cackle. "The Fool"

" LIAR!" Tommy's voice roared, toppling the array of cards onto the carpeted wagon as he lunged forward, straining hands grasping the throat of the woman whose many predictions had seeped into his unstable mind.

" New beginnings, freedom!" she gasped through your husband's tightening fingers as he cocked his head to her changing words.

" Go on" his brow raised as her life balanced precariously on the edge of Tommy's crazed moral compass and the response from her he would deem satisfactory or not.

" A new journey awaits her. But! But...one step off the cliff's edge, and she'll fall into danger. She needs your guidance to...to keep her safe" the jolting words had his fingers releasing from around her neck as she clawed at her drying throat.

Tossing but a single shilling at her feet, Tommy placed a fresh cigarette between his lips, fingers striking the aspen match against its box as he walked out of her disheveled home.

"But a fool you are, Thomas Shelby. And too late" she quietly seethed with a menacing giggle, throwing the measly bronze coin from her as your husband snapped back at her vapid words and manic laugh with fury, flicking the lit match into the pile of tarot cards with a heavy slam to the door that saw the precariously seated gaslight fall to the carpeted floors.

Locked within the flames, screams of pain, of death rolled over the fields of England as Tommy drew his gun from his holster, pushing the metal barrel to his temple.

" I'm coming, darling" he closed his eyes with a whisper at the image of you and Elsie flickering behind his lids, yearning to be reunited with you in the watery death he believed you had succumbed to.

With the click of the trigger, Tommy fell to the ground, only for his eyes to snap open to the earthy bed of grass surrounding him and a pair of laced boots approaching him through his fluttering lashes.

" Heaven doesn't want you, Tom. And hell's too afraid you'll take over" Arthur's voice and reaching arm pulled him up from the ground, hand full of unspent bullets clutched within the calloused pads of his fingers.

" 'ere" he pulled a silver flask of whiskey from within his tailored waistcoat, eyes turning from the blackening wagon as his stomach churned in disgust at the smell of burning flesh.

" You're right, brother" Tommy swigged back the sharp notes of spice and oak, believing the other worldly forces he had sought had intervened and not that of his brothers' hindsight to remove the beckoning call of death Tommy had answered to.

Unable to stand the gruesome trail of dead bodies that had accompanied Tommy to the four corners of England in search of you, Arthur waited by the car as your husband watched the collapsing walls of the old woman's wagon fall apart into charred blackness.

Rising from the muddied ground, your husband squinted through the fumes until he reached the remains of the dead woman and your daughter's pony still intact in her hands. A distorted sign of proof to your husband, that you were both still alive.

" Fuck sake" Tommy's brows knitted together as the disintegrating mane of Elsie's horse disappeared between his fingers, the small toy holding more importance than the body at his feet he stepped over without an ounce of remorse as he walked down the grassy hill to the waving hand of Johnny Dogs stood with Arthur by his car.

" Tom...Tom, she's been spotted" Johnny's arm looped around Tommy's back with a nodding grin, patting the slouching chest of your husband with a small picturesque postcard of a seaside town in his hand as your husband hunched over with welling eyes of relief darting to the greying skies.

"Seems heavens still on my side, eh boys?"

"Elsie shut the door" you pulled your chin from the palm of your hand as you sat against the bay window watching your daughter, muddy boots and unkempt hair traipsing through the kitchen.

"Elsie!" your patience snapped as she continued to ignore you, kicking her shoes off before running out of sight upstairs with a string of demands to see her father following her stomping feet before the slam of her bedroom door closed shut.

"Fuck..." you pinched the thumping headache between your brows as you stood up, swinging the creaking door shut as your eyes darted down to the lock.

Did you want him to get out and find you? Haul you back to Arrow House? Was that what you wanted now? you thought to yourself as the tips of your fingers brushed over the brassy handle.

Anything would be better than this, you snatched your hand away as your welling eyes and slow steps plodded you back to your spot by the window you had set up camp for the past week.

Your new home. Your new life. A small bricked cottage by the white cliffs of Dover, a large garden for Elsie to play in, a crackling fire for you and your daughter to curl up to on long winter nights. Far from Birmingham, far from the fog and soot, far from your husband and his raging paranoia. It was everything you had hoped it would be. And yet, you still longed for him. Still dreamed of him. Was he dreaming of you?

"I'm sorry" you clutched your wedding band looped through the chain around your neck. The binding gold ring you had once expelled to the small dish on your vanity, now permanently settled against your heart as you spent your days dwelling in regret.

For guilt had become your closest companion in the past weeks, a companion that would join you in the evenings when your daughter lay sound in her bed, and you knocked back the rapidly dwindling bottle of whiskey stuffed behind the frilly pillow on the bay window as you gazed out at the waves, mind drifting to Tommy.

Was it the empty void of Tommy's paranoia no longer filling your days that had you regretting your choice? Or was it Elsie's constant questions about the whereabouts of her father that had you wishing you could turn back the clocks of time, to forgive and forget? your mind plagued you as the sacrifices you were willing to make as a mother if it meant making your daughter happy seeped into your thoughts. After all, he was only trying to keep you safe, wasn't he?

"Y/N?" a voice and the creak of your front door opening drifted to you as the detective that had arranged your witness protection strode through.

"You should be keeping this shut" he shoved his raised gun back into its holster with a disappointed huff, thumbling with the rickety lock as your frowning face approached him.

Why did he have his gun raised? Tommy was in jail. You was safe, wasn't you? you stepped forward with a head full of concerning questions when Elsie came running down the stairs.

" Daddy!" your six-year-old screeched, mistaking the gravelly voice for her fathers as she came to a stumbling stop at the bottom of the stairs.

" Hello Elsie, look what I found for you" he bent down to her small frame, handing her a newly purchased pony, locks wrapped in a red ribbon.

" Elsie" you nodded to her with a stern face to thank the gentlemen as her sulking lips and swaying legs quietly accepted the horse.

" Thank you" she sniffed, turning the poor replacement for the one Tommy had first brought her in her hand as her pleading eyes looked up at you to let her leave.

" Go on" you let her go, hands threading through the ends of her locks as she hurried back upstairs with another slam to her door.

" She'll adjust" the officer guided you to the kitchen clearing his throat, deciding not to put another dousing of stress into your already difficult day with the news of Tommy's release.

" Tea?" he asked, watching you fall into your spot by the window with a passing nod of your head.

With a fresh brew of Earl Grey cupped within your palms, you scooted your feet back as the detective settled himself opposite you on the wooden bench.

" How are you?" his questions tore your from the bottom of the garden and the swinging gate, toing and froing.

Tommy, your heart jumped with muddled emotions of both fear and relief that he'd found you as a gust of wind battered against the window, and you slouched back into your seat with disappointment.

" Fine" you absently responded, gaze drifting over the unkempt grass outside, looping your necklace tightly around your finger as the muffling chatter from the officer continued.

You could be as cold as him, as callous as him, you tried to convince yourself that you possessed the same darkness as your husband, that you could ignore his misgivings if it meant hushing the sounds of codependency you still shared with him.

" So, how about it?" the detective's voice drifted back into your preoccupied thoughts as his heavy hand cupped your knee.

" Sorry?" you scrambled to understand what you had missed as you pulled your cardigan around your body, shielding yourself from his roaming eyes your absent mind had let go unnoticed.

" Take you out, so you can let your hair down?" he sent you a playful smile, lips curled around the warm mug of tea as your scrunching brow and his misplaced affections had you rising to your feet with a fumbling cascade of apologies.

" I'm sorry, I'm just...I don't think, I don't think I'll be in the mood" you politely refused his offer, suddenly feeling vulnerable, suddenly desperate for your husband's overbearing protectiveness as the officer stalked towards you.

" Maybe when I pop by next time then?" he smiled, brushing a lock of hair from your flinching face as you stepped back, feeling like you had given the wrong impression after the countless times you had welcomed him into your new home, the countless times he had made the long journey from the midlands to check on your safety you accepted feeling indebted to him.

" M-hm" you wordlessly replied as you slipped behind the kitchen table to the front door, hoping he'd get the hint and follow you out.

" Take care Y/N, and lock that door" he squeezed your arm with a wink, fingers waving to Elsie stood at the top of the stairs with her father's infamous Shelby scowl staring him down.

Pulling his coat around him from the icy winds, he came to a stop along the cobbled path, mumbling his appetite for you as he turned to see you stood by your open door, only your cardi shielding you from the bitter cold and the thin nightie underneath.

" Pretty little thing, ain't you just" he turned back to his car with a pleased smile as his partner raced towards him.

" Boss! Boss, there's a road block that's causing chaos down by the turning" he breathlessly informed the seasoned officer as he clutched onto the wooden fencing.

"I've had a Shepard ranting and raving for me to do something for the past thirty minutes, Sir " the young officer looked up at the creasing brow of his superior, watching him walk to his waiting car with a shake of his head. "Sir?"

" Not our district, son" he slipped into his car turning the ignition, tires rolling past your coastal cottage to the bend in the path and said road block with a disgruntled huff at the sight in front of him.

" Fucking gypsies" his fingers tightened around the wheel, eyes honing in on the empty wagon abandoned in the middle of the road and the Shepard's failing attempts to keep control of his herd as his dogs snapping jaw barked at the wooden block in the road, when a tap to his window and a grinning stout man with thumbs hooked under the suspenders of his trousers appeared outside of his car.

" Top of the morning to you, officer"

"The fresh air will do you good. Do us both good" your attempts to convince your child quickly fell short as you marched along the frosty ground in the freezing temperatures that came with living by the sea.

" Can we go home now?" she looked up at you with wind-nipped cheeks and a reddened nose as you battled with the bagful of shopping between your numbing fingers.

" I just need to pop into the corner shop..." you were cut off by your daughter coming to a scowling stop and a stomp of her foot as she pulled her mittened hand from yours.

" Back to Daddy, back to Birmingham Mummy!" she shuffled her feet against the icy cement, doe eyes pulling at the withering strings of your heart as she looked up at you.

" Elsie..." you sighed, crouching down to her as you adjusted your poor attempt at a knitted wooly hat over her ears, clueless on what to say, knowing she was too young to understand the complexities of her parents' relationship, and the gruesome things her father had done in the name of love. " Darling, I..."

" Mrs Shelby, I thought it was you. Didn't I tell you Mildred, I wasn't seeing things" the nattering of an elderly lady accompanied by her friend walking arm in arm shuffled towards you along the slippery ground as you bolted up with widening eyes, head snapping over your shoulder to see the last person you wished to see approaching you.

"Just last week, I was certain I saw you down by the bakery" she came to a stop in front of you, gleaming eyes patiently waiting for your response.

" Mrs Cross" you pulled your daughter into your body as the woman who was known as Small Heath's biggest gossiper, just so happened to be in the same hamlet in the same godforsaken freezing ends of England at the same time as you smiled to you and your daughter.

" What are...are you here on holiday?" you swallowed back your mounting panic, desperately trying to shroud your nerves with a pleasant smile of surprise.

" Goodness no, not in this weather" her brow furrowed at the pointy icicles hanging over head as she adjusted her fur coat around her frail body.

"A bereavement in the family" she clarified when questions about your unexpected appearance in Dover spilled from her inquisitive mind.

" And you?" her glistening eyes peaked with curiosity, eager for a new topic of conversation for her and her friend to natter over during their afternoon tea.

" Just a small getaway" you lied, keeping things brief as you clutched the bag of potatoes and parsnips for the soup you envisioned warming your shivering bones in your hand, knowing too well how quickly anything that sounded untoward would travel back to Birmingham at the speed of light if you let your tongue slip.

" Some much needed family time together, hm?" her observing eyes scanned behind you, expecting to see your husband accompanying you on said getaway.

" Yes, just the three of us" you lied for a second time through eager smiles at the blissful image of a happy family spending time in a quaint cottage by the coast you hoped the nosey resident of your hometown envisioned as your daughter's head darted up at you with a frown of confusion.

" How lovely" her attentions drifted to your daughter's eyes cast down in a sorrowful gaze at the slippery pavement and the lone strand of graze stuck beneath the sheath of ice that covered it. " Is that not so, Miss Elsie?"

" I want to go home" your daughter sniffled her response, while your fingers squeezed tightly around the corded bag in your hand as your heart began to rapidly thud against your chest at the gossiping woman's questions that could worm out the real reason why you was currently in the small deserted village if the unfiltered honesty of your child elaborated.

" Oh sweet child, you've not missed out on anything, my dear. Just last week I sent a postcard back with news from my end. And my neighbour Ethel diligently informed me that our little town is the same as it has always been" she informed your child with a gentle pinch on her plump cheek as her words hurtled a thousand worries to you.

Did she tell her gossiping conspirator that she had seen you? Had news gotten back to Tommy about your whereabouts? you began to panic as a ball of unease settled in your stomach, when your taunting mind reminded you of your sentiments that morning with one last question. But isn't that what you wanted, him to come find you?

"It was lovely seeing you Mrs Cross, but we must be off. Goodbye" you sharply turned on your heel, leaving your muddled emotions with the elderly duo curiously watching you scurry away with your child's dragging feet behind you.

" Strange Mildred" the old lady's eyes narrowed in on you slipping behind the cobbled wall of the corner shop before turning back to her friend with a knitted brow.

" What is, dear?" her shivering companion queried as she watched her baring along the slippery ground.

" Where is, Mr Shelby?"

With your daughter tucked safely asleep in her bed, you wrapped the ties of your dressing gown around your body, padding to your bedroom window and the flickering candle sat on top of the windowsill as you waited for the reassuring presence of the cop car that would roll past your home every night.

" Slowly" your husband commanded the detective as he sat behind the driver's seat of the unmarked car with the barrel of his gun pointed to the side of the officer's head.

"We wouldn't want to give her a fright, now would we?" Tommy's smile contorted into a malicious smirk as they slowly approached your house, the frightening scene shielded by the dark confides of the car and cloudy night skies.

" Well would you look at that. There she is. My wife" Tommy's eyes darted to you stood at the window as a sigh of relief left his throat upon seeing you after weeks of waiting. Heart momentarily overcome with satisfaction, with love, before his anger for your daring actions shrouded the moment.

" Go on, flash the lights. You're scaring her" Tommy demanded, scooting forward in the leather-padded seat upon seeing your head dart up and down the lonesome road in a panic as his gun burrowed into the quivering man's skull.

With the blinking confirmation of the headlights reassuring you of your safety, you sent a short wave of gratitude as your nightie fell open, revealing your thin slip underneath that had the detective snap his head away, nervously clearing his throat.

" You enjoy watching my wife, you fucking perv, eh?" Tommy's anger snapped in the mumbling man's ear as the officer scooted in his seat away from the exposed sight of you.

" Just doing as I'm told" he nervously darted his shifted gaze to the rear-view mirror and the darkened reflection of Tommy sat behind him, eyes shadowed by his peaked cap and the lies his searing stare were reading through. Lies that only confirmed his need to protect you, to keep you safe.

" Go" Tommy ordered him with a nod of his head to the road ahead of them as you blew out the burning candle before returning to the warmth of your lonely bed. Oblivious of who was behind the wheel of your nightly patrol and the man accompanying him.

"Please" the officer pleaded for his life to the sound of the rumbling wheels coming to a steady stop along the gritted path as Tommy's reaching hand pulled the key from the ignition.

" Sorry officer, threes a crowd" he swiftly pulled his cap from his head, slicing the shining blade across the man's throat. Inflicting a bloody gurgling death on the detective until he succumbed to the liters of blood pooling in his lap and lifelessly fell forward onto the wheel.

Crimson stained gloves pinched around the cigarette in his hand, Tommy's long coated frame stood in front of the rear headlights of the abandoned car as a cloud of smoke parted in front of his eyes to the emerging sight of the picturesque cottage you and your daughter slept peacefully inside of.

" Sweet dreams, my darlings"

Next Part

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219 @whereismymindnow @honeymoon8 @bruhidkjustwannaread

@strrvnge @paintedinpinks @edgyficuselastica @strangeions @youngbananamilkshake

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: A Departure.

Commissioned by the very lovely @ohsotearful.

Pairing: Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.3k.

TW: Spoilers For Sumeru's Story Quest, Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of Physical/Psychological Abuse, Themes of Forced Codependence, and Maladaptive Coping Mechanisms.

You arrived at the door of his shrine with no less than a dozen guards in tow – an even mix of Fatui soldiers and Akademiya matra. The most brazen among them attempted to follow you inside, but you dismissed them with a quick shake of your head, a pointed look to the more senior members of the mismatched legion. This was a well-trodden routine, by now, although one you never dared to come with the same entourage more than once. Your husband’s recent distance had not softened his jealous edge, and although you weren’t fond of those most complicit in the newest stage of your captivity, no mortal crime could be worthy of the wrath of such a violent god.

Your footsteps echoed – clipped and solitary – against the bare walls of the stone chamber. The architects of his divinity have already been sent away for the night, leaving you alone with the half-finished mess of wires and metal that was your husband’s fixation. The Shouki no Kami, you could remember the Doctor calling it during his first visits to your estate. A ridiculous name for a ridiculous machine that would only serve the ego of a ridiculous man. Bile rose into the back of your throat at the sight alone, but you swallowed your anger. He’d never been able to react to your rage with anything but his own.

You paused at the monstrosity’s feet, and his voice came to you – reverberating in the back of your mind like the final tones of a chapel bell. “Beloved,” he whispered in the back of your mind, sending a pang of pure agony through your skull. “You aren’t supposed to—”

“I will not hold a conversation with a mumbling voice.” You cut him off swiftly, teeth grit and eyes narrowed. “Either I will speak to my husband's face or I will not speak to him at all.”

A moment passed without a response. Then, stiltedly, one of his monstrosity’s hands tore free from its scaffolding, lowering itself to the ground beside you. With some reluctance, you stepped into his palm and allowed him to raise you to the frontmost panel of his abomination. You refused to call it a face, because to call it a face would be to admit it was his face, which would be to admit that this strange machine was in any way an extension of him. The metallic panel raised and disappeared into some unseen cavity, revealing the hollow, unit chamber behind it. Revealing your husband.

Or, rather, revealing the mess he’d made of himself.

He had never been the pinnacle of beauty, but his pale skin now seemed bleached and colorless, his lithe form limp and crumpled. Glass tubes filled with a pulsing, violet substance had been drilled into the nape of his neck, the base of his spine, the curves of his shoulder bones, and the smile he paid you as he came into view was labored, a fight against some artificial exhaustion. Before you could think better of it, you stepped out of his palm and into his chamber, falling to your knees beside him and wrapping your arms around his neck. “You are,” You pressed your lips into his temple. “the biggest idiot,” Then again, into his cheek, the curve of his jaw. “I have ever met.”

He let out an airy chuckle, melting into your chest. “It used to take a vat of water and thirty minutes of electrocution to make you kiss me like that.”

You ignored the phantom rope that coiled around your lungs at the reminder of the first decades of your relationship. You tried to think of it as little as you could, but his vision had always been more rose-colored than your own. “Can’t I show my husband affection?” You raked your fingers through his hair, resting your lips against his forehead. “It’s not as if I’ll be able to kiss the metal coffin you’re locking yourself inside.”

Another laugh, this one more labored than the last. “You could, if you wanted to. Just wait until it’s finished. It’ll be more glorious than you could possibly imagine – a vessel befitting of the most powerful archon this wretched world has ever bowed to.” He attempted to straighten, only to collapse under his own weight. “It’ll be an improvement to this form, at least.”

“I quite like your current form. It’s only a shame it has to house such a rotten personality.” You looked outward, to his empty shrine. At the time of your last visit to Inazuma (meaning, at the time of your last successful escape from your husband), his creator had still been locked inside a similar cage, or so another yokai had told you over bottles of sake and a game of cards. That visit had been one of your shortest. He knew you too well, by then, and it’d only taken him a few weeks to realize you’d run where you always would - home. “I suppose I’ll be left in the care of your doctor, when you’re finished.”

His response was immediate, purely reactive; a sudden snarl paired with a flash of bared teeth. “Dottore should be thankful to so much as breathe your air. You’ll be the paramour of a god.”

“I’ll be left alone while you turn yourself into a monster.” Your voice was hollow, distant. Even now, months into his transformation, it was difficult to describe the flavor of your devastation. He’d taken you from the place where you belonged and kept you as a trophy. He’d denied you any companionship aside from himself and cut away parts of your world until it revolved solely around him. He tucked dried flowers into the letters he wrote you near-obsessively whenever he couldn’t be at your side. He carved open your skin then demanded you keep your own mutilation out of his sight. He used to read you myths and fairy tales for hours every night, when human language was still foreign to your tongue. He was the closest thing to a friend you’d ever had.

And he was leaving you.

You wondered, briefly, if this was how he felt whenever you tried to get away from him, but discarded the thought quickly. It was your heart that ached the most in the wake of his betrayal, and your husband never did have one of those.

“I can’t remember the last time I was on my own,” you admitted, a pained smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I won’t ask you to stop. It’s just, when you’re done, I—” The air snagged in your throat. You inhaled sharply, then rested your head on his shoulder. “I’d like your permission to return to Inazuma, my lord.”

Silenced lapse, thick and heavy, between you. He was the closest thing you had to a friend, which meant he knew just how where to plant his knife and, more significantly, just how to twist the blade.

“No.” Stern, stiff, unyielding. Rather than softening over the centuries you’d spent together, he only seemed to grow more callous. “There’s nothing for you, there. You’ll stay here, with me, and I will rule this rotting land with you at my side.”

You opened your mouth, prepared to protest, to argue the way you hadn’t since the first years of your imprisonment, but closed it just as quickly. You buried your face in the crook of your neck, and your husband let you, eager to soak in the touch you so often denied him. Fire, despair, anger bit and thrashed inside of you, but it was all you could do to hold him, to keep him near.

It was all you could do to think of what you would become, after he was taken away from you.

[narryffdreaming]

A TOAST TO THE FUTURE — TWO

Summary: Aurora and Harry used to be friends, but life happened and they grew apart. Now, 6 years later, they meet again.

Rating: +18

WARNINGS: The story contains explicit language and mentions a past abusive relationship (mostly the consequences of psychological/emotional abuse). Some chapters also contain explicit sexual content.

PART TWO: 14,9k words Please read: Part two explores a lot of Aurora's irrational thoughts and it shows how much she struggles to be herself after being married to someone who was emotionally abusive to her. From my perspective, it's a really important chapter to develop the relationship between Aurora and Harry, but I want people to be mindful of its content in case they don't feel comfortable reading about this, or in case it hits too close to them. Feel free to reach out if you want to skip something and you'd like me to fill you in. <3

PART ONE

Despite the line, getting through security would've taken Aurora hardly three minutes. That is, of course, if she hadn't had to wait for Harry for another ten. 

He doesn't look the least apologetic for the held back, though. Nor bothered in the slightest by the extra time he seemingly needed. Smiling at her and holding their shared tray as he tilts his chin to an empty table and leads the way towards it. 

Aurora follows him quietly, checking her watch just to make sure they won't run out of time. And she does it unconsciously, regretting every time she catches herself looking at her wrist. Because she knows they're early. She swears she knows. And she wishes she could relax and just enjoy things without that awful feeling rushing through her body. That feeling that turns into a voice and yells at her that she's constantly behind. 

Behind what, one could ask, and Aurora wouldn't be able to answer.

She's just… Behind. 

Behind, and watching her life go by.

All the damn time.

Harry stops by the table, and Aurora mimics him. She drops her bag and falls on one knee, pulling up the hem of her dress and uncovering her foot. The Nike sneakers she's wearing used to be white once, but now they are just old and dirty, and she loves them even more like this. She nibbles the flesh inside of her bottom lip while tying the shoelaces up, then changes to her other knee, and repeats the process. 

Once she's done, she stands up and pats her legs, getting rid of any airport floor dirt from her clothes. 

"You're fast," Harry says, putting his foot down from the edge of the table. 

Aurora pulls the fabric of her dress up her chest and furrows her brows. "I am?"

"Hm, yeah." He frowns with amusement and chuckles. "You sure are."

"Huh." She wiggles her eyebrows up and down, then quirks the corner of her mouth up. 

Maybe, she should point out that perhaps she isn't fast, but he is too slow. Or that, unlike him, she'd organized everything beforehand so she wouldn't waste any second longer than she absolutely needed to. But what good would that do? Besides, those thoughts don't even feel like hers. They don't sound like hers. 

So she says nothing, instead, and steps closer to where he stands. 

Harry gives the tray they're sharing a gentle push to her side, and puts his other foot up. 

Aurora promptly slides the tray closer to her and places it in front of her belly, next to her bag. 

Great. 

Saying nothing was a bad idea, because silence is awkward now. 

She licks her lips and keeps her attention on their belongings, not knowing exactly what to say. 

Time goes by, though, and the longer she waits, the more awkward it gets. 

So she decides to just say whatever, just to get them talking again. 

"Perks of being a mom, I guess." She blurts out, then grabs their passports and shrugs. "Being fast, I mean." 

Harry leans on his bent knee and looks at her over his shoulder, blindly tying up his own shoes. 

"Yeah? Why's that? You get any super speed powers when you're pregnant or something?"

Aurora freezes for a second, passports still in hand. She turns her head to the side, and narrows her eyes at him.

Harry's soft lips are pursed, his green eyes are twinkling with playfulness, and his cheeks are tinted with a boyish flush under his facial hair. He's clearly having fun with his own silly comment, and it causes Aurora to break into a short laugh — not because it's funny, but because she simply can't help it. 

She shakes her head, and looks back at the tray. 

"I rush to get ready so I can pay attention to Noah, okay?" she explains, grabbing the boarding passes and checking the names on them. She puts hers inside of her passport, and the other inside of Harry's. "It's not a big deal."

She'd never thought about it, but it's the truth — she is usually busy keeping an eye on Noah, even from a distance. The little monster can't stay still for too long, and no matter how much she adores how energetic he is or that she tries her best to let him explore things by himself, the truth is that he's still only four, and she can't leave him wandering around unattended.

Which is why she fought so hard to sign him up for preschool — it gave her time to slow down and do other things, too.

Okay. See? That — that right there — is Aurora's truth. That's a thought that feels and sounds like hers. A thought that she came up with on her own, based on her own experiences and her own mistakes. A thought that reveals how she's learned that taking care of Noah is her responsibility, and that if she doesn't pay attention to her son, nobody does. 

No matter how much she dreamed it would be different.

No matter how much she believed it should be different. 

"Ohhh," Harry says. "Ok, then."

She sticks her passport and boarding pass into the front pocket of her bag, maybe a little bit more forcefully than she needs to.

"Exactly. So don't judge me."

"What?!" Harry laughs, putting his foot down from the table. "I wasn't—" 

"I can't leave my son unattended, can I?"

"I—I know, yeah." His face falls, and he nods. "I get it. That's… It makes sense. Yes." 

"Right. Great." 

A second goes by, and then another one, and another one.

Silence settles again, but this time Aurora isn't worried about it being awkward or not. 

There's just… So much going on. 

Her heart is thumping loudly inside her chest, and her ears are buzzing. 

She shouldn't have snapped at him. 

She shouldn't have snapped at him.

It wasn't about him. 

It wasn't his fault. 

She pinches the tip of her nose and breathes in. Slowly, and steadily. 

One more time. 

Slowly.

And steadily.

And then, she moves again.

She holds Harry's things in her hand and leans on the table, reaching for his bag. Before she touches it, she looks at him over her shoulder and asks, "Do you mind if I open your bag?"

Harry doesn't answer, though. He's tilting his chin down and shaking his leg, making sure his pants are properly covering his ankles. 

Aurora purses her lips and straightens her back, then slides his bag across the table and pulls it closer to her body. 

Now everything's in front of her, the tray caged in between both duffel bags. 

She bites her bottom lip, but it's hard to stop her mouth from turning into a smile. 

Maybe the speed in which she moves isn't an inconvenience, after all. In fact, maybe it even comes in handy, because apparently if she doesn't move for both of them, someone will sooner or later shove them away. 

"Harry," she insists.

"Hm?" He looks up. A frown crinkles his face — his eyebrows are pulled together, his forehead is puckered, and his lips are curled downwards. As soon as he meets her eyes, though, his shoulders drop, and he shakes his head. "Sorry."

He scratches his jaw, dragging his nails over his stubble. 

Aurora stretches her arm, and pats her hand on the edge of the table, where his feet were a minute ago. "It's fine. I was just asking if it's okay to put your passport inside your bag."

"Oh! Yeah yeah, sure. Go ahead. Thanks."

"'Kay," she says, already unzipping the front pocket and putting things away. 

Aurora rolls her shoulders at the same time Harry moves closer, and she unthinkingly snatches his belt from the tray and hands it to him. 

"Here."

"Oh," he murmurs, grabbing it from her fingers. "Thanks."

He steps away, but there's something in his voice that somehow catches her attention, and Aurora turns her head. 

She glances over her shoulder, and peeks at his face. 

Harry is looking down again, chin pressed against his chest while he takes the end of his belt and puts it into the first front loop of his beige pants. His movements are casual, but he's holding back a smile, and Aurora can tell his mind is working on something.

Something silly, to be more specific. 

She curls her mouth up, then raises her left eyebrow. "What?"

Harry tugs his belt, threading it through the second loop. 

"What?" he repeats, and his mouth finally turns into a grin. 

She turns her body towards him, then places one hand on her waist and the other spread open on the table, holding up her weight. "C'mon, out with it."

Harry laughs, slightly bending his knees and throwing his head back. "I didn't even say a word!"

"Well, you didn't have to!" She rolls her eyes and chuckles, backing away from the table to put both hands on her hips. "I can see you're thinking something."

He shakes his head, looking down and threading his belt through the next loop. 

"Harry…"

He peeks at her through the corner of his eyes, then focuses back on his belt. 

"You're aware you can leave me unattended, right?" he asks, keeping a bright smile on his face and the light tone on his voice.

"What?"

"I mean I don't mind." He shrugs, eyes still on his current task. "Gotta admit it's kinda cute to see you like this." 

"I don't—"

"My favorite part was probably when you cleaned up the table."

"I—" Aurora closes her mouth, and exhales through her nose. "You put your feet there, Harry."

"I did, yeah. And you cleaned it up."

"Well, someone has to clean up your mess, don't you think?"

Harry glances at her, and smirks as mischievous and suggestive as he can be. "Oh, I always clean up my mess, love, don't worry about it."

He winks, and Aurora gasps. 

"Oh my God!"

She turns to face the table, feelings her cheeks getting warm. 

Harry laughs, though, so she steps closer to his side and nudges him with her elbow. 

"Shut up."

"'Kay mum."

"Ughhh." She rolls her eyes, then shuts them tightly and takes a deep breath in. "You're so annoying." 

Harry's laughter only grows louder, and Aurora shakes her head, blinking her eyes open again. 

It only takes him a moment to calm down, but the smile is still obvious in his voice when he speaks again. 

"I know. I'm just teasing you, tho. I'll stop now. I promise."

Aurora snorts. "Yeah, right." 

She believes his words as much as she believes Noah when he promises he will eat his entire dinner if he gets to eat dessert first. 

The thought brings a smile to her face, and she bites her lip to hold it back. 

Peeking inside the tray one more time, she finds several rings, a bracelet, a watch, and three necklaces. Her mouth twitches, and her chest trembles with amusement — no wonder why Harry took so much longer than her to get through security.

She pulls the string of her necklace from the tray, takes each side to the back of her neck and quickly clasps it back to its everyday place. Next, she grabs her watch, and puts it on just as fast around her wrist. 

"Well,"  she starts, then looks at him. 

Harry is, once again, deeply focused on his task — his chin touches his chest, his eyebrows are pulled together, and he's biting his bottom lip. 

"All yours now," she adds. 

Harry peeps at her through the corner of his eyes, his hands still attached to his belt as he finally reaches the last loop. He darts his vision to the tray, then back at her, scanning her chest, her wrist, and her hands. "You sure? All of it?"

"Mhmm."

A group of people walks to their table, and Aurora takes a step aside to give them more room.

"Ok." He buckles his belt, then fixes his shirt. "We can go, then."

"Oh. I didn't mean to rush you."

He smiles, putting one hand inside the tray and carelessly collecting everything that's left inside. 

"You didn't." He closes his hand into a fist, then shoves everything inside of his pocket. "It's just getting crowded here. C'mon."

"Hey, was my joke inappropriate?"

Past security and turning right, the hallway is significantly less hectic than any other area Aurora has walked through in the last hour or so. 

It is probably one of the brightest, too. 

"Hm?" she asks, tilting her head to give Harry her full attention. "Sorry, what joke?"

"About… Y'know, cleaning up my mess."

"Ohhh." Aurora laughs, then waves him off. "Please, it's nothing any of you guys haven't joked about before." 

"I know, but… Things are different now, aren't they? Don't want to make you uncomfortable, or, well, don't want to be disrespectful to your hus—"

"You're fine," she says, cutting him off before she'll be forced to either correct him or say nothing, implicitly letting him believe there's still a husband in her life. "Don't worry about it. Let's stop here so you can put your rings back on, yeah?"

She points to one side of the hallway, and walks in front of him to guide the way. It only takes her a few steps, then she places her bag by her feet and turns around. 

When she looks at him, she finds him frowning. 

Frowning and frozen on the spot. 

"Harry, hey!" She raises one hand and wiggles her fingers. "C'mon. I'll help you."

Harry's face softens. He shakes his head, then walks towards her while putting his hand inside of his pocket. 

Leaning against the white wall, Aurora watches him come to a stop right in front of her, then drop all of his jewelry on top of her spread open palm.

"Thank you," he murmurs. 

She finds his sight again, and a smile blooms across her face. "Sure, no problem."

His lips curve into a smile, too, and he looks down. He shakes his head and pulls his hair back, then turns his attention back to the items on Aurora's palms. He seems meticulous about which ring goes where, fiddling with them and hunting for specific ones. Eventually, he grabs three at once, and puts them on his pinky, middle and index left fingers. 

Aurora raises her chin and rests the back of her head against the wall, comfortably watching his relaxed face as he towers over her. 

From what she remembers, jewelry was never Harry's thing. Long hair and skinny jeans? One hundred percent. But the necklaces, the rings, and the bracelets? Those were things she'd no idea he'd be into. Or maybe not to the point of making them part of his casual look to the airport.  

"So," she teases, easing her dry lips with her tongue then forcing her voice to sound exactly like she imagines a reporter would sound like, "Harry, would you say you enjoy wearing rings?" 

Harry darts his eyes to her, and the expression on his face never falters, holding a serious and unamused demeanor as he moves his lips to say, "Bloody hate them."

She presses her lips together, but then she snorts, taking her free hand to cover her mouth. 

Harry shakes his head and grins, changing hands and catching two more rings to put on his right fingers. 

"Why? What's wrong with my rings?" 

She sighs and shrugs, calming down from her brief moment of foolish, silly laughter. 

"Nothing. 'M just teasing you."

He places the last two, and pulls the two golden strings from her palm. 

"Hmm…" Harry nods. He fixes his eyes on the jewelry and frowns, eying the many tiny knots that had formed along the necklaces. "Great, then. Glad you're having fun at my expense."

Aurora drops her jaw.

"You were making fun of me two minutes ago!"

Harry chuckles, although he's distracted by his attempt to untangle his necklaces. "Guess I was, huh."

He shakes his head, and Aurora steps away from the wall, getting closer to him.

"Which wrist do you wear this one?" she asks, lifting her hand and his bracelet.

"Left—I mean, right," he answers, and although they don't look at each other's faces, they both smile at the same time. 

Harry remains focused on the knotted strings between his fingers, but stops moving when Aurora curls one hand around his right wrist and pulls it closer to her face. In one quick movement, she clasps the item around it, then taps his hand twice. 

"All done. Now gimme that." 

She snatches the necklaces from him, and observes carefully before undoing the mess. One of the golden strings is longer than hers, but they're both just as delicate, and instead of a disk, one holds a cross pendant, and the other a tiny, thin tag. She bites her lip and patiently fiddles with the pieces of jewelry, taking her time to unwrap the tiny knots.

Things are quiet. Time ticks without a hurry. And after a minute, or maybe two, or three, she grins proudly, and lifts her chin to look at him.

"Look!" she says, even though she doesn't have to — Harry's already looking at her, already watching her. "I've done it!"

He blinks a couple of times, then nods, slowly mimicking her smile and her excitement. "Y—You did, yeah! Thanks."

"You're welcome." She grabs the longest string, picking each side with one hand, and takes a step closer to him. "I find untangling necklaces weirdly therapeutic." 

Harry widens his eyes. "What are you doing?!" 

Aurora rolls her eyes, and chuckles. "Calm down. I'm not gonna kiss you, don't worry."

"Right. No, yeah, I know that." He chuckles, too. "Of course." 

She stops moving and tilts her head, then raises her hands. "I mean, can I?"

"Wha—" Harry takes a step back. "Kiss me?!"

"Harry!" Aurora shrieks, also taking a step back and away from him. "Oh my God, no!"

She looks at him for a moment, taking in his bulged eyes and raised eyebrows. He looks mortified, and there's so much going on at once that she can't help but burst into laughter — at the misunderstanding, at the look of his face, but also at the terror in his voice. 

She turns away from him, throwing her head back as laughter breaches from her chest. 

"This is… I can't…"

"Sorry," Harry says, "I just—"

Aurora shakes her head, feeling warmth radiating from her chest throughout her entire body. 

"Oh my… Oh my God." She places one hand on her stomach and brings the other to her face, fanning herself while taking a deep breath in through her nose. "You should've… You should've seen your face… Oh God… Harry… You panicked so hard, I just…"

She wipes a tear from under her eye, and takes another deep breath in, working to calm herself down.

"I never… I never thought the idea of kissing me could… Could be that terrifying for someone. Oh God."

Harry sighs. "Auri…"

She turns around, and looks at him with the biggest smile on her face, her body still shaking from laughing. 

Harry isn't happy, though. Or at least he doesn't seem to be. He's narrowing his eyes, and furrowing his brows. His lips are pressed into a hard line, and his forehead is puckered. 

And just like that, Aurora's laughter fades away. 

Shit. 

She's too familiar with that dynamic, so she clears her throat and shakes her head. 

"I'm sorry. I—I know it wasn't funny. I just… I think I haven't laughed this hard in a really long time, so I just… I got carried away, I guess. I'm sorry. But I shouldn't—Sorry." 

"Listen, I didn't—"

"Yeah, yeah. I know." 

Actually, Aurora doesn't know. Of course she doesn't know. She has absolutely no idea what he was about to say, but she doesn't want to talk about it. She's been there before. And she's been there before so many times that her mind and body don't even know how to react any other way. How not to anticipate the humiliation and shame that is about to follow. How not to completely shut off. 

Thankfully, Harry seems to get it, because he nods, grabbing his necklaces from her hand and putting them back inside of his pocket. 

And this time, Aurora doesn't say anything about it, grabbing her bag from the floor and feeling ready to move on.

"Do you mind if we take a look around some of the shops?" Aurora asks, pointing around the World Duty Free and breaking the silence that settled between them for the past few minutes. 

Harry moves slowly next to her, keeping his hands inside of his pockets. "'Course not."

"Thanks." She makes sure to curve her mouth into a smile, then stops at the first shop to take a look at the makeup. 

Things are quiet, but Harry stands right behind her all the time, keeping her company while she brings a lipstick closer to her face to check the color shade, and then following her steps when she moves to a different shelf. 

"Hey," Aurora says, looking over her shoulder, "what's your cologne?"

"Hm..." He scratches his jaw and shrugs. "Depends on the day, I guess."

She nods, then turns to face some nail polish, aiming for the brightest options. 

It's been a while since she's done her nails. She used to love looking at her hands and seeing them colorful and filled with rings, it used to make her feel beautiful and delicate. Feminine. 

Zack used to love it as well, though, and to be honest at some point she stopped doing a lot of things Zack liked. Just because.

"Which one are you wearing today, then?"

"Why?" 

She shrugs. His voice is right behind her, but Aurora doesn't turn around to look at him. 

"'Cause you smell really nice." 

Maybe she could do her nails in Italy… Maybe one of the girls brought something with them. 

Or maybe she could get something herself…

The orange shades look nice…

She sighs, and steps away from the shelf. 

She can't. She shouldn't spend her money like that. She needs to be more careful now, especially since she spent a lot of unplanned money on that trip to Italy. 

She turns her head, wiggling her eyebrows at him. "So…?" 

Harry clears his throat. "Uh… Well… It's Guerlain."

Aurora twirls, holding her bag close to her body as her hair and dress follow her brisk movement.

"Cool! Let's find it, then." 

She walks away, and Harry's low chuckle echoes behind her. 

Although she can't see him, she feels his presence all the time, following her pace.

"What for?" he asks. 

"I don't know." She shrugs, looking from one side to the other. Scanning all the tiny duty-free shops. "I'm bored, I'm tired… Oh! There it is!" 

Her pace quickens, and so does Harry's.

Aurora only stops when she's in front of the Guerlain shelves, and then she turns around, staring at him with a smile on her face and pointing her arm to the many colognes displayed behind her. 

"Which one is yours?"

He clears his throat, and— 

Wait, is he blushing? 

Aurora purses her lips, holding herself back from laughing.

"It's L'Homme Idéal Extrême."

"Hmmm." She wiggles her eyebrows, and pulls one corner of her mouth up in a smirk. "Sounds sexy…" 

"Jesus Christ," Harry grunts, hiding his face behind both of his hands and shaking his head. 

Aurora laughs at his reaction, tapping his shoulder twice before turning on her feet and looking for his cologne. 

"What happened to you in the States, huh?" She leans down, squinting to read the names. "Never thought I would see Harry Styles getting all shy in front of me."

It takes him a moment to answer, but eventually he mumbles, "I've always been shy in front of you."

Aurora pauses for a moment, replaying his words in her mind. Images of them hanging out together pop up immediately — at the pub, at someone's apartment, after class, over the weekend. His cheeky glances, touchy hands and bold comments are always present, one way or another. He always craved attention, and people had no problem granting his wishes. 

It never bothered her, because he was young and had just joined university, but it certainly didn't paint him as a shy and reserved person. 

A snort leaves her mouth. "Yeah, right." 

She stands, and puts her hands on her waist. "What was the sexy name again?"

"L'Homme—" He sighs. "It's this one."

Aurora turns around, only to find Harry standing in the same place they were a minute ago. The shelf next to him is filled with bottles of the same cologne. Apparently, his cologne.

She gasps. 

"Harry!" She walks towards him, and Harry shakes his head in soft laughter, scratching the back of his neck. "I was standing right next to it and you didn't tell me!"

"It's just a very common cologne, Auri." He laughs, again. It sounds kind of shaky, though, and she frowns, stopping on her track. "I don't… Why are we looking for it?"

Uh… 

Well… To be honest… She doesn't have an answer for that. 

She doesn't know why they're looking for it. She is just joking. She just wanted to pass the time because she is exhausted, and because the longer she spends around people, the more afraid she is of falling apart at any moment. She thought maybe she could try it on, see if his cologne would smell as well on her skin as it smelled on his… Who knows… She was just… She wasn't thinking, okay? She was just being her stupid self.

Harry, on the other hand, isn't just messing around. Harry looks actually nervous. 

Her jokes are making him nervous. 

She is making him uncomfortable. 

In the middle of an airport, filled with people. 

Shit.

And she's done it twice now. 

First with the necklace… Now with the cologne… 

Fuck.

How many more times till he reaches his breaking point? 

How many more times till she finally pushes him through the edge? 

How many more times till she puts him in a position where he won't be able to stop himself from snapping at her?

Her hands shake, and her stomach quivers. 

"Yeah, no, I mean…" She shakes her head and smiles at him, closing her hands into fists and placing them behind her back. "You're right. Sorry. I—I'm really sorry. Hm… I think I… I should get a coffee."

Harry flinches his head back. "Wait  what?"

"Coffee. It'll keep me awake." She walks around him, and Harry follows her movements. 

"Auri, but what… Hey! What about my cologne?"

She waves it off. "Yeah, I know. I was just being annoying." 

She moves towards the exit of the duty-free, where all the departure gates are, and another yawn breaks through her lips. 

"Yep." She chuckles. "Definitely need some coffee."

"Auri," Harry calls, catching up with her. "Hey, stop. C'mon. Something just happened."

"What do you mean?" Aurora laughs. 

She flexes her fingers, curling and uncurling them. Her eyes wander around the airport, looking for a coffee shop. 

A coffee shop. 

A coffee shop. 

She needs a coffee shop. She needs to get herself together. She needs to busy herself with something before she does something silly and stupid again. 

"I… I don't know. Why did you change your mind?"

Harry walks next to her, and she offers him a smile. 

"About what?"

"What do you mean about what? About my cologne, Auri!"

Aurora flinches.

"Sorry. Yeah, no, right. The cologne. Yeah. I just… I made you uncomfortable and I was being childish. Sorry."

"I wasn't uncomfortable, Auri, I just—"

"I know."

"Auri, no, listen—" 

"Harry." She turns around and smiles, then places one hand on his elbow. "It's fine. You don't need to explain yourself. I just… I really, really need a coffee right now. I haven't slept all night, so… Yeah. I'd just like to get a coffee. If you don't mind."

She lets go of his elbow, and Harry sighs. 

"Ok, yeah. Let's get you some coffee, then."

They walk forward, side to side, and Harry speaks again. 

"Do you still drink caramel coffee?"

Aurora widens her eyes. 

"Wow… That's back from… Well, a long time ago."

It's small, and kind of timid, but Harry smiles, and then shrugs. "Used to get you one at least once a week, didn't I?"

"You did, yeah." She smiles back at him and nods, then faces forward again. There's a coffee shop only three stores ahead, and it seems to be already open. Thank God. "To be honest I can't remember the last time I had one. I drink plain black coffee now."

Harry nods, and they both walk in silence, side by side — always side by side.

It shouldn't be uncomfortable, but Aurora's chest is heavy, and her mind seems foggy. 

Truth be told, she thought she would have more time before she started disappointing her friends, before letting them know how much she's changed and how uninteresting she's become.

Meeting Harry at the airport got in between her plans, though. And she could feel herself breaking little by little each second. Having to face the memories of someone she used to be, someone she liked to be, but also someone she isn't anymore. And someone she can't be anymore. 

Looking at her feet, she bites the inside of her lip. She was acting like a child at the duty-free, wasn't she? Jumping around, excited about his cologne… 

God. She hasn't even left the country yet, and she's already ruining things. 

She needs to control herself. 

She isn't a teenager anymore. She can't embarrass him. She doesn't want to embarrass him. 

"Do you want something to eat?" Harry asks, and she stops walking.

They're in front of the coffee shop, but Aurora wouldn't have realized if it weren't for him.

She shakes her head. "No, I'll just get myself a coffee."

"Let me get it for you."

What?

She takes a step back. "Absolutely not."

Harry's smile falters, but he doesn't give up. "C'mon… Like the old times! Yeah?"

"No, Harry. I mean, thanks, but no. I can pay for mine."

"I know you can pay for yours, I don't—"

"Please." She shakes her head and looks down to the floor. "It's just a silly coffee. I can get it for me. Okay?"

Harry frowns. 

"Ok? Yeah." 

Aurora nods, looks at the shop, then back to the floor. "Are you getting anything?"

"No, I'll just wait here."

"Okay," she whispers, forcing a smile before turning around and walking away.

It's crazy to see how much Harry has changed.

That's all Aurora can think about while she stands in line and watches him type on his phone. 

He's still outside, waiting for her, and seems deeply engaged with his conversation, frowning while his fingers move rapidly. 

No more black skinny jeans, no more vintage t-shirts or Chelsea boots. No more curls that are longer than her own hair. No more thin shoulders nor skinny arms. 

His baggy pants — wide legged, high-waisted — are beige, his cute shoes are yellow, and she still can't get over the flamingo shirt he's wearing.

He looks older, too. Brooding features, chiseled cheekbones, growing stubble. His face is perfectly carved, his traces have hardened, and there is something very manly about the way he stands there, focusing on typing on his phone. 

It isn't just his physical appearance, though. He acts like a grown-up, too. There's something about the way he simply exists that screams how much he's changed. You would never tell the man standing outside is the same boy who used to make stupid bets with his roommates from uni. But it's clear that Harry isn't a boy anymore, and that he's turned into a man.

And Aurora wasn't prepared to deal with that. 

Aurora lowers her chin and rubs her eyes.

She is being ridiculous. 

Why would she need to be prepared for that? 

Of course Harry grew up! How old is he now, anyway? 29? 30? Of course he isn't the same anymore. 

She should focus on how nice it is to see him again, not about stupid things. 

Who would've thought she would actually meet him at the airport? Who would've thought they'd end up sharing the flight? Standing in line with him, hopefully getting some seats next to each other… She should appreciate having a friend by her side. That's all. 

Aurora can't remember why he stopped hanging out with the group, though, and now she can't stop thinking about it. She has absolutely no idea about anything that could be going on with his life. It was as if Harry had grown more and more distant with time, until he wasn't there at all.

She's still pretty sure the last time she saw him was at her and Zack's wedding. She remembers someone telling her he'd moved to the United States, but why wasn't she at his graduation? It didn't make sense. Especially considering how, around a year later, he was kind enough to send them a basket when Noah was born.

They weren't the closest friends, and they were in very different stages of their lives when they met, sure, but they were part of the same group, and she used to have a soft spot for him. Just like she used to have a soft spot for Niall. 

Usually, when they were all at the pub, everyone would leave and the three of them would stay behind, chatting and laughing until Aurora felt her lids closing by themselves and they would walk her home. They both used to make her laugh all the time, and she actually loved spending those moments with them. 

Until she met Zack, of course, and then she started spending her nights with him. 

Maybe that was it. Maybe it wasn't about him. Maybe she had grown more and more distant, until she wasn't around anymore. At all.

She knows it's something she's done with everyone else, at least. The girls would knock on her door from time to time, though, and she couldn't run from everyone whilst living in the same city, but Harry flying overseas was a different situation. So it makes sense they didn't keep up with their friendship. 

It makes sense, but it still bothers her. 

It bothers her because she forgot how easy, and fun, and electrifying it was to be around him. She forgot how affectionate, attentive, kind, and friendly he was. She forgot how spontaneous and cheerful she used to be with him. She forgot how much she enjoyed his carefree and easygoing way of looking at life. She forgot… 

Well, to be honest, it's like she just forgot about him. 

And how could she forget about him?

Harry used to be such a great friend. 

Just like Niall. 

But somehow different. 

Because there's something about the way Harry looks at her that she never found in Niall's eyes. It has something to do with Harry's curiosity, probably. How much he cares about details. How he likes to know more about people, about things, about everything. 

"Next?" the lady behind the counter shouts.

Aurora shakes her head, and darts her eyes away from Harry. 

She has no idea how much time she just spent staring at him. She didn't even notice she was doing it, to be honest. And she can only hope he didn't notice, as well.

The woman behind her taps her shoulder.

"That's you, miss," she says. 

Aurora widens her eyes and steps forward.  "Oh, yes, sorry… Hi!" 

Their flight is delayed. 

Aurora laughs, and rubs her fingers on her forehead. 

"And I was worried I'd be late," she murmurs.

They've been hanging out by their gate for at least half an hour now. Harry sits next to her, their bags placed together on his opposite side. He's leaning back comfortably, arms crossed on top of his abdomen and legs spread open in front of him. 

He nudges her arm with his elbow, then asks, "What was that?"

She shakes her head and waves him off with one hand, then double taps her phone with the other, lighting up the screen. 

It's 6:30. 

Noah should be waking up by now. Or at least Zack should be trying to wake him up. 

She unlocks her phone and opens up the app to text him. She takes a deep breath in, and her fingers hover the screen. She needs to be careful with her words, because she doesn't want him to think she doesn't trust him with Noah. That would be unfair with him. And it's not even about that. Of course it's not! She knows Noah's safe with his dad. She swears she never questioned him as a father. Whatever happened between them as a couple would never change the fact that Zack loves Noah to death. 

Aurora knows that. Really! The only reason why she wants to know how they're doing is because Noah has never woken up at his dad's new place, and because she knows what a long and emotional process it can be to wake him up. That's all. 

She bites her bottom lip, and types the same questions again and again, until she's happy with the way she's phrased them.

Hii! 

How are you guys doing?

How was Noah's first night over there? Did you guys have fun?

She sends the messages, and reads them over. And over, and over. 

That was good, wasn't it? She sounded friendly, right? She wasn't attacking him, right? He wouldn't be mad at her, right?

"I'll be right back," Harry says, getting up from his seat. He moves past her quickly, looking at his own hand and sliding his finger through the screen of his phone before taking it to his ear. "Hey… Yeah, I know… No, you listen to me…"

Harry doesn't sound happy — at all — and Aurora frowns. She watches him walk away, blending between people, then glances back to her phone.

No signs of Zack yet. Which is fine. Of course. It's not even been a minute. Actually, Aurora is usually so absorbed by Noah in the mornings that she doesn't check her phone until she drops him off at preschool. So it's fine. Really.

Hopefully he'll be able to make him have breakfast by 7:15, though. Otherwise they won't get there on time. Should she remind him of that? No, that's stupid. Zack is not stupid, and she always drives him insane for reminding him of the obvious little details. 

Maybe he won't even take him to preschool. Maybe he'll drive him over to his parents, instead. 

Or maybe she should just trust him. Maybe this would be the time he'd follow through with a promise he'd made.

Another yawn sneaks up on her. She slides down on her seat and rubs her eyes with the palms of her hands. 

Maybe she should accept Harry's offer and take a quick nap on his shoulder. She brushed the idea off minutes ago, but now she can't deny it sounds really tempting. 

God… How is she supposed to spend two days on a yacht? She's never been on one before. She also hasn't been around all her friends in a very long time… 

Is she going to be able to interact with them? Because if they're expecting her to act the same way she used to before getting married… Well, they'll be extremely disappointed.

The only thing about Aurora that'll resemble those old days are the clothes Maddie packed for her. 

Shit. Oh shit. Oh… Fuck! Her clothes. No, no, no. Shit! She is going to kill Madison. 

She can't wear all those clothes in front of Harry! There is no fucking way she'll walk in front of him in a bikini, or wearing those silk and backless dresses. There is absolutely no fucking way she's going to wear those tops that almost don't cover her breasts in front of him. 

Well, not just in front of him, of course…

She's thinking about Harry because he's the one with her right now, but she doesn't want to wear those clothes in front of anyone. Not just him. 

It isn't even about the people, really. It's about her body. A body that has changed a lot through the years. 

Oh, boy… She needs to sleep. She can't start spiraling about how unsexy she's been feeling for years. It's not the moment for that. It's not what the weekend is about. 

"Are you sleeping with your eyes open?" Harry's low and deep voice sounds right next to her ear, and Aurora jumps on her seat. 

Harry chuckles behind her, then makes his way around her seat. 

"Shit," she murmurs, taking her hand to her chest, but a shaky laugh still leaves her mouth. "You scared me."

He stops in front of her and furrows his brows, then tilts his head to the side and curves his mouth into a cheeky smile, narrowing his eyes to look at her. 

"What?" she asks. 

He doesn't move, though. 

And he also doesn't stop staring at her. 

Aurora shifts on her seat. 

But the staring still doesn't stop.

"Harry!" She chuckles, and looks away. 

And he still doesn't even flinch.

Oh, c'mon! That's ridiculous. 

It's like going back to university, honestly. He used to do the same when they were younger, usually at a pub or a club. He would stare at her like that until she stumbled over her own words, or until she forgot what she was about to do. He thought it was hilarious, but she never understood the point of it. 

"Knock it off, will ya?" She crosses her arms on top of her chest and rolls her eyes. "I was just thinking."

Harry (finally) laughs, face lighting up again — with dimples and wrinkles and almost fully-closed eyes.

He moves his arm, and puts a paper cup in front of her face. 

Aurora snaps her brows together.

"Sorry, love, I was just testing my skills," he says.

Aurora flinches her head back.

Why is he shoving that cup in her eyes? 

And also… "What skills?"

He shrugs. "Y'know, to rile you up just by looking at you." 

Harry presses his lips together, as if he can't wait to burst out laughing.

And Aurora knows that face, because Noah does the exact same thing. The cheeky little monster loves to surprise her, but he can never hold up a lie. He gives out the entire thing just by looking at her with the same excitement on his face. 

They honestly look the same. Except Noah is only four, and Harry a thirty-year-old man.

"Ha ha," she mocks him, looking away from his silly face. "You and my four-year-old son would be great friends."

"Aww!" Harry takes his seat next to her, chuckling and throwing an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to his side. "I'm sure we would." 

She rolls her eyes. 

Harry squeezes her cheek against his chest, and she's so close to his body that she can smell the soap and cologne emanating from his skin. He smells good. Like a fresh shower. It's a nice combination, something both strong and smooth at the same time.

Shit.

She pulls away, and shakes her head. 

"It wasn't a compliment," she murmurs. 

Harry chuckles.

"Yeah, I'm aware of that." He withdraws his arm from around her shoulders and takes it back to his side, then puts his hand back in front of her face. The one holding a paper cup. "Now, this is for you."

Aurora raises her eyebrows. 

"And what's this supposed to be, exactly?" 

"Just try it." 

She doesn't make any movement to acknowledge his request, but Harry also doesn't make any movement to hint he'll stop shoving the cup on her face. Eventually, she sighs, and her entire body falls. 

"Harry…" 

"Oh, c'mon! Just a sip. Amuse me, yeah?"

Aurora glances at his hand, then back at his face. She presses lips together, then finally uncrosses her arms and lifts one of them to reach the cup, curling her fingers around it. 

For the sake of not ruining her mood, she ignores the way he cheers, or how he grins proudly before leaning his back against the backrest of his seat. She simply clutches the cup between both hands, instead, and its warmth is a high contrast with her cold skin. She can't help but hum at the feeling, and then she shivers, even her chin trembling a little. 

A timid chuckle escapes from her mouth, and she closes her eyes. She brings the cup up to her face and puts her nose close to the lid, breathing the flavor in. 

And just like that, her chest tightens. 

The smell is unmistakable, a combination between coffee and caramel that she would recognize anywhere, anytime. 

She blinks her eyes open, and turns her head to look at him. 

Harry is watching her attentively, without any traces of amusement or playfulness surrounding him anymore.

Aurora blinks a couple of times, gathering enough strength to ask him, "Did you… Did you get me a caramel coffee?" 

He nods once, only one side of his mouth lifting up. "Yeah."

She looks back at the cup in her hands, and blinks again. 

"Why?"

"I don't know," he says, softly. "Intuition, maybe. I know you already had your black coffee, but I… I don't know. I felt like you needed it? I don't know. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, it sounds stupid. Is that okay? Hope I didn't—"

She nods rapidly — unable to speak, but also desperate for him to stop explaining himself. 

And thankfully, he does. 

Aurora doesn't know what to say about it, though. She doesn't even know if there's anything she can say about it. 

His words don't sound stupid to her. That's for sure. The thing is that Harry doesn't understand the meaning his gesture actually holds, which scares her. He was able to pick up on something she needed when she wasn't brave enough to admit it to herself in the first place. And it was something so trivial… It was just coffee. Coffee.

"Noah does that sometimes, y'know," Aurora murmurs, looking at the mass of people in front of them. She hunches down a bit, not bothering by her awful posture as she comforts herself with the hot beverage in between her hands. Changing the subject is the only way she knows how to answer him right now, so she keeps going. "Sleeping with his eyes half open. It freaks me out."

Harry hums.

"There's a name for that, isn't it?" 

His voice is as soft and calm as before, and Aurora nods.

"Yeah, nocturnal something… I don't know. I always forget the stupid word." She rolls her eyes, and a humorless laugh leaves her mouth, making her body shake. "How do people even choose these names, huh? Why bother naming it if it's gonna be some ridiculous word no-one can even pronounce?"

"That's… Yeah, I don't know. You have a point, though."

"Sorry," she whispers, looking down at her lap. "Zack drives me insane using all those terms all the time. Makes me feel stupid."

Harry doesn't say anything, but for once the silence between them doesn't feel uncomfortable. 

She exhales the frustration out of her body, taking the cup to her mouth and sipping carefully in case it burns her tongue. 

The coffee touches her lips, and its sweetness automatically invades all of her senses. Her tongue tastes the caramel, and there's something bitter behind it, but it is mostly mellow and buttery. Just like she remembers it. 

And just like that, she's remembering all of it. 

She's flooded with memories from the comfort of home, and about the fun of living. Memories with simpleminded thoughts and unpretentious actions. 

She's back to a place where she isn't scared of speaking her mind all the time, where she isn't afraid of letting people down by her silly behavior, where she isn't terrified of her personality being the embarrassment of those around her. She's back to a place where she knows her friends and family like her for who she is, and where she's proud of her because of that. 

She's full of affectionate touches, sincere words, and genuine feelings.

There's confidence inside her, and an entire world she's willing to find out. 

And when she finally gulps down the simplest sip of caramel coffee, warmth takes over her throat. It reverberates through every inch of her body, and she shivers — her body filling with goosebumps as she closes her eyes to the paradoxical feeling. 

A moment passes, and the weight of a soft textured fabric lands on her back.

"Before you say anything," Harry's deep voice murmurs next to her, and she opens her eyes to look at him. "I'm not wearing it. And it's driving me insane seeing you so cold, so please just wear it."

Aurora glances at her shoulders, finding Harry's checked jacket covering her skin. It feels good, and it feels warm. And she actually doesn't mind it. At all. But there's something about the way Harry has just talked to her that flies directly into Aurora's heart. 

Maybe it's the softness of his voice. Or maybe how worried he sounded. Or maybe the fact that he seems to pay attention to her. Or maybe just because he acts as if he knows her so well. Even after so many years without talking to her. Or seeing her.

Or maybe it's just because she's already on edge because of the damn caramel coffee he bought especially for her.

She doesn't know exactly what it is, but something in his words triggers her into instantly tearing up. She can't help the overreaction, and before she can figure out a way to hide it, the evidence of her crying falls down her cheek, and she's taking a hand up to wipe it off her.

"Auri, hey…" 

Harry's hand lands on her back. The last push she needs to turn into an emotional wreck. A sob bursts out of her chest, and she covers her mouth. Oh my God. 

"Auri, love, I'm sorry… Did I… I can get the jacket back, I didn't—"

She shakes her head and puts the coffee between her thighs, then takes both hands up to her face. She uses her palms to wipe down the tears from her cheeks, and a long and shaky sigh leaves her mouth. 

Harry takes the cup from between her legs, putting it down on the floor before shifting closer to her. His knees bump into the side of her thigh, and the hand that isn't on her back brushes softly her jaw, getting rid of another tear.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she whispers. "You're fine. You didn't… You didn't do anything wrong."

The last thing she wants is for him to see her like that. They haven't seen each other for so long… She doesn't want to welcome him back to her life with tears and drama. She also doesn't want him to feel guilty about something that has nothing to do with him. 

"Ok…" He sounds wary, and while one hand rubs circles on her back, the other grabs her hand. "What's going on, tho? What can I do to help?" 

Once again, Aurora shakes her head. "I'm… I'm fine. I think I'm just… I'm  just exhausted from not sleeping last night."

It isn't a lie, but it also isn't the truth. She doesn't want to admit how lonely she constantly feels, because she wants to learn how to be alone. It doesn't make sense to ask for help when all she wants is to learn how to not need help.

"Why didn't you sleep?" 

"It's nothing. Really… Don't worry about me, I'm just being dramatic right now."

He strokes his thumb up and down on the back of her hand, and Aurora sighs, leaning into the warmth of his jacket. 

Warmth. Apparently that's all she craves now. 

"Of course I worry about you, Auri. And I'm here if you need anything, ok?" 

She nods, but his care for her brings another wave of tears, and she hides behind one hand while the other holds tightly onto him. 

"C'mere," he murmurs, dragging the hand on her back to her shoulder and pulling her to his chest. 

She can't believe the amount of times she's been hugged by him in merely a couple of hours, but she doesn't fight him. In fact, she does quite the opposite: she snuggles into him and cries quietly. And when Harry squeezes her shoulders, she squeezes his fingers in response. 

"Talk to me, love, please. What's going on?"

She sniffs. "Nothing…"

He rubs her arm, softly and tenderly, then carefully adds, "I don't wanna force you, but I can tell something's up and I'm worried about you."

Aurora shakes her head, feeling the desperation in her body slip out of her mouth as she cries to him. "Please don't... I don't want… I don't wanna worry you, ok? I really don't. I don't want to bother you. I'm just… Overreacting. I'll be fine. I'll be—"

"Auri, that's not—"

"Yes. Yes it is. It's just—"

"Stop doing that," he says, squeezing her shoulder. "You keep shutting me off every time I try to explain myself."

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I swear. I'm sorry��"

"Auri—

"—I'm so sorry—"

"—It's okay—"

"—I really am—"

"Auri, hey!" He pulls back, grabbing her shoulders with both hands and forcing her to look at him. His eyes are warm and caring as he stares inside hers, but there's a frown all over his face that screams something different. Annoyance, perhaps? Or maybe… Frustration? "Listen to me. It's fine, ok? There's no need for you to apologize. It's fine."

She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. "No…"

"Yes, it's fine, Auri."

"It's not—"

"Yes—" 

"No!" Aurora opens her eyes, but tears quickly blurry her sight. She blinks, and before she knows it, she's fully sobbing and crying again. "It's not fine! Ok?! I'm not… I'm not fine, Harry. I'm not! I'm falling apart and I just… It's like I can't stop… And I just… I hate it, ok? I really do… I keep letting everyone down. And I… Fuck… I have no idea how… How am I supposed to spend the entire weekend…. The entire weekend pretending my life isn't a mess right now? I just… I can't… I can't pretend… I'm not… I can't…"

There's only a beat of silence before Harry pulls her into his chest again, squeezing her shoulders while he takes a long, deep, and heavy breath in. Then exhales loudly through his nose. 

"I don't know what's going on with your life right now," he says softly, resting his chin on the top of her head and closing his eyes while she sobs into his chest. "And I know I haven't been around, but I'm here for you, ok?" 

And just like before, Aurora melts into him. She hugs his waist, and leans against his body despite the uncomfortable and public position they're in. Crying all the tears she's been holding in so far. Silently sharing with him all the hurt, the doubts, and the insecurities she's been feeling. All the blaming, the questioning, and the yelling she's been hiding. Letting him absorb the wreck she is turned into after six years of marriage. All the failures. All the mistakes. All the countless "should've done better", and also "should've tried harder".  She lets it all out. With no hold backs, nor regrets.

"And you don't have to pretend, Auri," he adds. "At least not to me. Not even a little bit. Never… Why would you even pretend, huh? I can't be there for you if you don't let me know your life's a mess, and I want to be there for you. You know I do, yeah?"

Aurora can't answer him, not when her body's turning everything inside her into tears and sobbing, but he doesn't seem to be waiting for any words. Nor reactions. He rubs her back gently, while still holding her tightly, and then just keeps talking. 

"Besides, I don't expect anything from you, so—I mean, wait… That's not—Shit. That didn't sound good."

And despite everything, despite all the pain and all the tears and all the fears, a soft and low chuckle escapes from Aurora's chest. 

"That came out wrong… It's not—It's not what I wanted to say. Because of course I expect things from you, like… You're brilliant. You're amazing. You can do amazing things if you want to, ok? I know you can. What I meant is that—That there's no pressure, y'know? That's all. And that no matter what you do or what you say, nothing will change... I mean, I haven't been around, but you don't have to pretend things are good if they aren't, y'know? I'll be your friend even if… I don't know… Even if everything's falling apart… Actually, I want to be there especially when everything's falling apart, ok? So yeah, I just—Jesus Christ." He sighs. "Fuck. Auri please tell me you know what I'm trying to say here because I'm just freaking myself out right now."

Aurora's chuckle turns into laughter, and she nods against his chest, taking one hand up to her face to wipe off the last few tears. 

"I do, yes." She clears her throat, trying to get rid of some of the scratchiness. "Relax. I got it from the beginning." 

Harry smiles and sighs again, squeezing her shoulders. "Could've said something, huh? Stop me there. Save me the embarrassment, maybe?"

"You said I kept cutting you off when you tried to explain yourself, so…" Aurora shrugs. 

"Ohh, I see. Okay." Harry laughs. "We should work on your timing, then. Smartass."

She smiles, and sniffs. "My timing's perfect. It was cute, and I was having fun."

"Of course you were."

Although she can't see him, the smile is obvious in his voice, and she sighs. A long and heavy sigh. One that's strong enough to relax her entire body, and that makes her close her eyes and drop her shoulders. 

"Thank you," she murmurs, still into his chest.

"Yeah," he murmurs back. "Anytime, love." 

There's a pause between them. And then Harry speaks again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, to be honest… At least not right now."

"Ok…" 

Another pause, and then… 

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She takes a deep, long breath in, then exhales while snuggling into his chest.

"Can we just… Stay like this for another minute? Just… Y'know… In silence?"

"Hm… So you want me to shut up, is that it?"

Aurora chuckles. 

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that, but…"

Harry chuckles, too. 

"'S fine. I don't mind. We can stay like this for as long as you want."

And so they do. 

They hug for a while. In silence. A tight embrace that's simple, but that's also intense enough to let her know that he's there for her. 

Aurora can't remember the last time she's been held like this, with honest tenderness and affection. The kind of hug that she doesn't question, and that comes naturally. That feels natural. 

"This was supposed to be a fun weekend," she murmurs, curling a little bit more into him and closing her eyes to avoid facing the world. "Can't believe I'm seeing you for the first time in years and already bringing all this drama to you."

Harry chuckles lightly. 

"Don't be silly, ok? We've been over this already… We're friends and this is what friends are for." He kisses the top of her head, and then rests his cheek against the same place. "Besides, we didn't leave London yet. We can still have plenty of fun."

Aurora sighs. "God. I really need to have some fun. I miss having fun."

"I'll make sure you get more than some."

He squeezes her shoulder, and Aurora smiles.

Still with her eyes closed, and pressing her ear against his chest, she listens to his heartbeat, and to the way he breathes. He isn't calm, but he is steady, and somehow comfortable. So she focuses on him, and only him. As if mimicking his rhythm, or syncing with his pace, could make everything in her life feel better. 

Harry sighs against her, and when the thumping inside him gets faster, she pulls one arm from around his waist to rest her hand on the left side of his chest. She spreads her fingers open where his heart is, and breathes in and out slowly, hoping to calm him down again. 

He takes one hand to her neck, sliding it to the back of her head and tangling his fingers with her hair. 

As he scratches her scalp, Aurora can feel every muscle of her body fully relaxing. It's soothing. And it's safe. There's no other place she would rather be right now, and she's convinced that, as long as she's holding him and he's holding her, she'll finally relax and rest like she hasn't been able to in so long. 

"Have you always been such a great hugger?" she asks, her voice as soft and as slow as her body feels.

Harry clears his throat, then murmurs, "I don't know." 

Aurora hums. 

Another moment passes, until she breaks the silence again.

"I'm sorry for being a shitty friend."

"You're not a shitty friend."

"But I am, tho. I have no idea what's going on with your life… It's been so long and I… I never reached out."

Harry sighs, and shifts on his seat. 

Aurora follows his movements, making sure the hug doesn't end even when he seems to be pulling away. 

He doesn't, though — pull away. He simply leans back on his seat, pulling her along with him. And because she's still comfortable against his chest, she doesn't see the way his face falls, how he presses his lips together in a hard line, or glares at random people passing by.

"It's fine," he eventually says. 

And she's so focused on her own past behavior, that she also doesn't notice the slight change in his voice.

"It's not, though."

"I never reached out either, did I? And I should have… I just… I should have." 

She fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, and although it takes her a moment to answer, the words fly easily out of her mouth. "I'm not sure if it would've made any difference, to be honest… I've pushed everyone away, would've done the same to you." 

"There's no fucking way I would've let you."

"It wouldn't be up to you, tho."

A ding-ding-dong blares from the speakers in the lounge area. 

"Attention passengers on Ryanair flight 1832 to Naples, we are now ready for boarding at gate 56. Passengers on Ryanair flight 1832 to Naples, we are now ready for boarding at gate 56. Boarding is for business class and passengers with…"

The attendant's voice fades as Aurora stops paying attention to it. She blinks her eyes open and, against her wishes, pulls away from Harry's arms.

"Finally," she breathes out.

When she looks at him, she finds nothing but honesty and affection inside his eyes, and it's enough to make her heart skip a beat. 

She curves her lips into a smile, then brings her hands up to wipe the dry tears from her cheeks. "Thank you."

Harry smiles, too. "You've said that already."

"I know." She nods, dropping her hands back to her lap. "I just… Thank you, really. For now and… And for the coffee. Even though I forgot to drink it."

He takes one hand to her face, and puts some of her hair behind her ear.

"We'll have time for another one," he says, then stares into her eyes again. "Yeah?"

"Yeah…" She gulps down, captivated by his gaze. "I think… I think it'd be nice if we could catch up, right? I mean, there's so much about you that I don't know…" 

Harry smiles, although it doesn't reach his eyes. 

"There isn't anything crazy to know about me."

Aurora furrows her brows. 

"Well I don't need crazy information, Harry," she scoffs, making sure the tone of her voice is carrying some playfulness while she rolls her eyes. "I just wanna know what's up with your life… Where do you live? Do you have any dogs, or cats? Where do you work? Do you have a girlfriend? Do you have any kids? Are you married? I don't know…"

Harry stares blankly at her for a moment, then looks away, reaching for their bags. 

"Those are too many questions, love."

Aurora shrugs. 

"Well, yeah…" She leans down and picks up her coffee. The cup feels cold, and although she's sad she didn't get to drink it, she wouldn't change anything about what happened in the last… Well, however long it's been since they got here. "I know. I'm curious. That's why I said it'd be nice to catch up."

She stands up and rearranges Harry's jacket, putting it on properly so it doesn't fall from her shoulders, then waits while he stands as well, picking their bags from the seat next to his.

"Ok, yeah. Sure. We can catch up." 

"Wow." She snorts and widens her eyes. "Calm down, now. Don't sound sooo excited, please."

Harry laughs. He puts his own bag on his shoulder, and she takes hers from his hand. 

"I'd love for us to catch up, Auri. I really would."

"Okay…" She narrows her eyes at him, putting her bag on her shoulder and walking towards the line. "Are you hiding something from me?"

Harry follows her, grabbing his boarding pass and passport from the front pocket of his bag. "Why would I hide something from you?"

"I don't know…" She throws the coffee cup away, then adds, "Maybe you're working with the FBI. Or, maybe you're married to someone who works for the FBI. Ohhhhh," — she widens her eyes, looking at him while he leads their way to the gate — "or maybe, you're married to someone who's being investigated by the FBI!"

Harry chuckles through his nose. He sneaks his hands inside Aurora's bag, pulling her boarding pass and passport from it.

"There's no FBI involved, I promise," he says, handing her the items. 

"Hmmm…" She grabs her things from his hand, and nibbles her bottom lip before asking, "But you're married to someone?" 

"Nop." 

"Okay… Dating to someone?"

He shakes his head, and Aurora nods.

"Are relationships a touchy subject, maybe?"

Harry smirks, and that's more than enough to give Aurora an answer, but she still waits for him to say something. 

Anything.

"I broke up with someone not too long ago." He shrugs. "So I'm not in the mood for relationships right now, to be honest. And that includes talking about it." 

The line moves quickly, and they take a step forward. 

"Oh, sure. Yeah. I get it. Of course." Aurora nods. "I'm sorry, tho. Y'know, that it didn't work out."

He shrugs, and they walk again.

"'S fine." 

The shift in his behavior is loud and clear, and it bothers her. The idea of someone breaking Harry's heart deep enough for the pain to overshadow his excitement and dull the brightness of his smile doesn't feel right. So it bothers her. It really does. Whoever it was, he surely deserved someone much better. He surely deserves someone better.

A flight attendant welcomes them with a grin and a cheerful good morning. Aurora smiles back, and hands him her passport and boarding pass, then waits for him to return them. He wishes her a safe flight, and repeats the same process with Harry. 

Aurora waits for him in silence, and once they're both ready to walk through the airgate, she picks the conversation back on. 

"I'm sure you'll find someone, y'know? It won't be that hard. You're still young, and dating was never a problem for you, so…"

There's a pause, and then Harry snorts. "Dating was never a problem for me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Y'know… That's what you, Niall and Jayden used to do all the time, wasn't it? Dating and… Flirting and hooking up with everyone?"

Harry stops walking and turns to stare at her in silence, with widened eyes and flared nostrils. 

Aurora stops, too, biting her lip to hold back her amusement while waiting for him to say something. 

He doesn't, but he eventually laughs, throwing his head back and making her fully smile at him. He shakes his head, and starts walking again.

"Jeez, Auri, I'm so offended right now."

"Oh c'mon…" She chuckles, following his steps. "I meant it as a compliment, okay? Like… Girls were always into you, that's all."

"Not all girls, though."

"Fine." She shrugs. "Ninety-five percent of them, then."

He snorts again. "Ok."

"How old were you when we met? Twenty? Twenty-one?"

"Nineteen."

"Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah, it was my second year. Why?"

"Nothing. I think… For a moment I just forgot you're so much younger than me, that's all."

"C'mon, not so much, I'm almost thirty now."

"Well, yes, but I'm thirty-five."

"See? Same age."

She chuckles. "We're not the same age."

"Ok, but almost."

"Not even close, Harry."

"Oh c'mon! Then what are you now? Ancient? Should I call you grandma?"

She chuckles. "Well… I do feel ancient, to be honest."

He rolls his eyes. "This is ridiculous. You're just as young as I am."

She shakes her head. 

"Yeah, I mean, I know that… But I don't know… I mean, talking to you right now I don't feel like you're younger, y'know? Let alone that much. But also—"

"It's not that much."

"No, I know. But if you think about it, I already got married and I have a four-year-old at home, so like, I really am too old and—What?" Harry is frowning at her, and she tilts her head. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He shrugs, then faces forward, away from her. "I'm trying to decide if I should kick your ass right now or just throw you into the ocean later."

She gasps, but then she chuckles. "What? Whyyy?"

Harry raises his eyebrows at her. "I'm only five years younger than you, Auri. Five. It's not even a big deal."

She sighs.

The line in front of them moves, and they move forward as well. 

"Sorry. You're right. Like I said, it doesn't feel like it right now, but I think… I don't know. When you were 19 and I was 24 it was different, yeah? I mean, we were in different stages of our lives. I was meeting Zack and you were—" 

"Yes, I know. I was there, remember?" 

She swallows down, and nods. 

"Sorry," she repeats, much softer this time. 

Aurora walks in silence, staring at the plane at the end of the hallway. 

She pretends to ignore the way Harry keeps glancing at her, or how he rubs the back of his neck, or how he rolls his shoulders. She knows she bothered him, and the idea of causing a scene when they're about to get into a plane feels terrifying. She should've kept her mouth shut, that way she wouldn't have them put them in that situation. Again.

It's like she's been riding on a rollercoaster she never knew she would get into in the first place. Going through multiple sudden changes of speed and directions. Slowly climbing a steep slope and painfully anticipating the fall before she actually drops directly into the ground. Holding herself during the unexpected tight turns and sharp curves, and gasping for air at every inverted loop. Experiencing the ups and downs of gravity as she's weightless and happy at the top of the hill, then all of a sudden her own personality is pushing her back down to reality. And by the end of it, the back of her throat hurts, her stomach feels funny, and there's just heaviness all over her body. 

"Hey," Harry calls. 

He shifts his bag from one shoulder to the other and puts his arm around her, pulling her closer even though they're still walking. He kisses the top of her head, and keeps his lips there as he speaks. "'M sorry. Shouldn't have cut you off like that."

Aurora shrugs. "It's fine." 

"It's not. We were just joking and I… I took it personally, 'm sorry."

He kisses her head, again, and her lashes flutter. 

She knows he's sorry, but she doesn't know what to say to him. She knows how easy it is for her to forgive when she shouldn't, and how many times in the last six years she believed in empty apologies. 

So although she knows, she isn't sure she can trust herself. 

She hasn't been trusting herself for a while now. 

A new flight attendant welcomes them into the plane, and they both pull away from each other.

Aurora walks in front of Harry, and she does her best to smile genuinely at the cheerful woman that's wishing them a good morning and a good flight. 

She holds the strap of her bag tightly on her shoulder, and walks through the narrow carpeted aisle, focusing on the numbers and letters above the seats as if she's looking for specific ones. She pauses here and there for other passengers that are getting settled, and it's only past the emergency door that Harry speaks again.

"Should we sit here?" he asks. He's pointing to the opposite side where she's facing, so she turns around, finding three empty seats.  

"Okay." 

She nods, and tilts her chin up to check the space to put her bag. Harry is quicker, though, because he is already closing his fingers around the strap on her shoulder and pushing it away from her arm.

"I'll put our bags together, yeah?" 

She doesn't want to fight him about it, so she simply thanks him with the best smile she can offer and allows him to easily grab her duffel bag. 

She slides through the two empty seats to reach the one by the window, not waiting any longer to secure the seat belt and make herself comfortable. Once she's settled, she clasps her hands together, and takes a deep breath in. Her chin trembles, and she looks down, biting the inside of her cheek. She doesn't want to cry again. She really doesn't want to cry again.

Also, she needs to sleep. She must get some sleep. There is absolutely no way she is going to handle spending the entire day awake, and if she doesn't sleep now, she'll only get an opportunity again at the yacht — meaning she won't get to spend any time with her friends. 

Harry sits next to her and puts his own belt on, then turns off his phone and shoves it into his pocket. Aurora doesn't look at him, but he turns sideways anyway, leaning his shoulder on the back of the seat and blocking them from any possible curious eyes. 

He grabs one of her hands from her lap and takes her fingers to his mouth, placing a long kiss to her knuckles before sighing. 

"Auri, love," his voice is soft, and a whisper for only them to hear, "I really am sorry." 

She nods, taking her free hand to wipe a tear before it could roll down her cheek.  

Shit.

"Please, don't cry."

"Mhm."

"Auri… Look at me, please."

She shakes her head, then. Because she knows that she'll fall apart all over again if she looks at him.

God, she's so tired.

"I didn't…" she murmurs, then takes a deep breath and tries again. "I didn't mean anything bad by the age thing… I promise."

"I know that, love. Of course I know," he says, pressing another kiss to her hand. "Fuck. I know. We were just joking. And I'm not mad about it, I promise. I mean, I was actually a stupid hormonal teenager back when we met, so yeah… You're right, things were different. But please, Auri, I hate that I made you cry just because I… Shit, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. It wasn't about you, I promise."

She stares at her knees and nods, because she knows he is. And she also knows she can trust him, which is probably why she — finally — honestly blurts out, "I keep messing everything up, y'know? All the time."

He brushes his thumb on the back of her hand, then murmurs back to her, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I just… I keep letting everyone down, and I hate it, but it's like I can't stop it. And I mean, to be honest I don't… I don't even recognize myself anymore. I used to have so much fun, and I felt so different about life… And I treated people around me so differently… And now I'm just… I don't know… I don't know why I say things, or why I do things. I don't know what I want, or what to do with my life… And I feel so… Lonely… All the damn time. But I get why I'm lonely, y'know? I mean it's true that I don't know how to be anything else besides being Noah's mum. And I'm so insensitive to other people because of that, and I keep saying things I shouldn't and I just… I look back and I realize how I pushed everyone away… How I… I don't know, I'm so tired of this. I'm just so tired of myself."

There is a pause between them, mostly because Harry's waiting for the people in front of them to settle and stop prying at their conversation. 

It's good, though, because it gives her time to catch her breath again.

And then, Harry leans deeper into his seat, still holding tightly to her hand.

"Is that how he made you feel?"

Aurora furrows her brows. "What—Who?"

"Zack. Is that how Zack made you feel?"

"I… No! Why—I mean, I'm just… I'm talking about myself." 

"Auri, c'mon… I know you're talking about yourself, but I can read between the lines."

She closes her eyes and takes her hand up to her face, rubbing her forehead while she prepares herself to just keep blurting out what her mind is begging her to tell him.

"I think…" she says, dropping her hand back to her lap and blinking. "I think he really messed me up, y'know?"

Harry sighs. 

It takes him a moment to say something. A moment that feels really, really long to her. 

And then… 

"Fuck." He puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her to his chest, murmuring while resting his cheek on the back of her head, "I'm sorry."

She shrugs, snuggling into him and searching for his heartbeat, just like before.

"'S not your fault."

"But I should've been there for you."

"You wouldn't have known." 

"Still… This isn't how it was supposed to be." 

God, she's so tired… 

Her entire body is heavy, and she doesn't even know what's happening around them anymore. She can't even make sense of their conversation anymore. 

Harry feels too cozy, though, and she knows she's about to have the comfiest sleep of her life — she can feel it.  

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"I got divorced six months ago."

Harry closes his eyes, then rearranges himself on his seat and pulls her closer to him.

"I know."

.

.

.

"You know? How?" 

"Niall."

"Oh. Okay?" 

"I texted him while you were getting your coffee."

She places her hands on his hips, holding her weight to pull away from him. 

Harry doesn't let her, though, squeezing her inside of his arms and locking her in. 

"Please stay," he murmurs. 

And Aurora doesn't fight him. She just relaxes again — she relaxes and listens to him. 

"You weren't wearing a ring… And I could tell something was up, so I… I asked him. That's all. Sorry if I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. I needed to know."

"Oh…" The concept of time is foggy inside her mind, but she's pretty sure a few seconds go by before she speaks again. "'S okay, I guess. I mean… Niall knows about the divorce, but he doesn't… He doesn't know the whole story. He doesn't know how bad it was."

"Does anyone know?"

"You?" She chuckles, but it's humorless, because she knows that not even Harry truly knows. "I just… I haven't been able to talk about it yet, or like… Process it, I think. I don't know. I keep justifying him a lot, which I'm learning it's something I shouldn't do."

He makes his cheek comfortable on top of her head, then takes one hand to play with her hair, scratching her scalp. "It can't be easy to go through something like this on your own, tho."

"I know…" She closes her eyes, appreciating his affectionate touch. "My mum's helping me a lot… She had to go back home now, but she spent over a month with me. Makes sure I don't skip therapy… Stuff like that."

"Hmm…" Harry says, and his voice echoes inside her body. "Always liked her. Smart one."

Aurora curls her mouth up. "Yeah…" 

Another moment goes by, and Aurora is filled with lightness as her body slowly drifts into sleep. 

"Thank you for telling me this, Auri."

"Mhmm… It's weird… To like, talk about it."

"I'll always listen. Whenever you want to talk about it, I'll listen."

"Thank you… 'M really tired, tho... And I think my brain is going to explode…"

Harry chuckles. "Get some sleep, yeah? I'll wake you up when we're about to land."

"'Mkay." She hugs his waist, and nuzzles against his chest. "Can't believe this all happened and we didn't even leave the country yet."

"Tell me about it."

"Mm… 'Kay… I'll sleep now… You're comfy… And I think… I feel drunk…"

Chuckling again, Harry presses a kiss on the top of her head, then slides down a bit on his seat, and she cuddles a little bit more into him.

"Ok love," he says. "You can relax now, I got you." 

And although Aurora doesn't answer, she knows he does. 

She doesn't need Harry to wake her up. 

Her brain drifts back to consciousness by itself, slowly making her aware of her surroundings way before the plane is even close to landing. 

She's warm, because of Harry's arms wrapped around her shoulders, but also because of his jacket covering her body. Her face is pressed against his shirt, and once again she's breathing from his skin. He still smells good — like a fresh shower — but now it's also mixed with a little bit of sweat, so it's somehow even better than before. 

It's hot. He's hot. Her insides feel hot.

She's also comfortable — so, so comfortable. It feels like she just took the best nap of her entire life. Like she's enveloped by a sense of calm and peace, a feeling that she doesn't want at all to end. Snuggled into his chest while his fingers keep playing with her hair, tracing random patterns on the back of her head. The movements are sweet, sweet enough to tempt her to go back to sleep. And she almost does. 

Except she can't. Not anymore. 

Because above all that, she can tell she's also kind of desperate. Clingy. Needy. Hugging his waist as if their flight landing in Italy depended on how tight her grip is. Both of her legs over his left thigh. His strong, firm thigh. She's holding onto him like a baby koala. A troubled one. A baby koala that's craving to be held by someone. Anyone. And as if she's terrified of the idea of being left behind while her mind shuts off from the real world. 

And maybe she is. Who knows.

She always liked to cuddle, and she hasn't properly cuddled in a really long time, so it's not a surprise. Still, it very quickly becomes embarrassing, and certainly not how Harry imagined things to go when, earlier in the airport, he offered his shoulder for her to take a quick nap. 

He offered his shoulder, not his entire body, for fucks sake!

So, against all wishes, Aurora stirs and groans — mostly because her mind is battling between sleeping for just two more minutes or acknowledging the reality of the world she's in — then pulls away from him. 

"Hmm…" She takes her hands up to her face, and rubs the last traces of sleepiness away from her puffy eyes, then sits back on her seat. "What time is it?" 

Next to her, Harry moves as well, withdrawing his arms from around her shoulders and placing his hands on his lap. 

"Must be around ten thirty now… Last time I checked was ten fifteen."

He sounds calm, so calm that she can't make any emotion out of his voice, so she turns her head to look at him.

Harry looks fully awake. Well rested. Peaceful. Soft. The only sign of him turning into her personal pillow are the wrinkles all over his shirt, but everything else looks… Perfect. Like heaven. He looks like heaven.   

"Hi…" He curls one side of his mouth up, and Aurora smiles, too.

"Hi…"

Only then it occurs to her that she's been staring at him, and she looks away, taking her hands to smooth out her hair then fix her dress.

"Did you sleep well?"

She nods, and takes his jacket off, instead using it like a blanket to cover her chest.

"Um, yeah… I did. Thanks. And thanks for… You know… Letting me crush on you? I mean, it probably wasn't comfortable for you, so… Yeah, thanks."

Harry scoffs, shuffling down on his seat and spreading his legs as wide open as he can. 

"Are you kidding me?" He takes both arms up and places his hands behind his head, resting on top of the palm of his hands. "You're a great cuddler. Went straight to my top five of all time."

The playfulness is clear in his words, which is why Aurora chuckles. Still, one question is loud and clear inside her mind: who are the other four great cuddlers? And most importantly, why isn't she his favorite one? 

The thoughts bring an uncomfortable feeling to her stomach, and she shifts on her seat. 

"That's kind of you to say, but you should see me during winter in the middle of the night… I'm like a baby koala and it's not a very pretty sight." 

"Huh." He smirks, and lifts his eyebrows. "Is that an offer?"

Aurora snorts and rolls her eyes, feeling her cheeks burn before she looks away. "Shut up."

Harry laughs, and just like that, everything between them goes back to normal. 

Getting into conversation with him is easy. Neither of them have seen their friends in a while, so they distract themselves by reminiscing old stories and laughing at silly things they used to do together. They also talk about Italy, about how neither of them have been to the country before, and how it's been a dream of both of them. They bond over small details, and find connections over silly things. And it's exactly what Aurora needs, as she finds out after minutes and minutes of light conversation and genuine giggles. 

It is only when they're about to land that her face falls again. 

Fully awake, the airplane movements become way more obvious than they did when taking off. And as soon as the belt sign goes on, and the pilot announces they're about to descend to Naples, Aurora's heartbeat speeds up.

She straightens up and leans her back fully against her seat, looking through the window at the bright sky. 

"Are you ok?" Harry asks. 

"Mhm…" She nods, and doesn't take her eyes off from the view. "Just… I don't like this part very much, that's all."

"Wanna hold my hand?" 

It is a nice offer, but one she doesn't think she should accept. So she doesn't. And as the plane gets closer and closer to land, every movement becomes even more clear. When it shakes, when it turns, when it's getting ready to touch the ground. 

She holds herself until the last minute. She holds herself tightly and firmly. Until it becomes too much, and one specific up and down of the airplane has her reaching for his hand.

It's like Harry is already waiting for her, to be honest, because she finds him quickly. Her sweaty and cold palm meets his warm one, and she turns her head to look at him. 

He's already watching her, and as soon as their eyes meet, his face lights up with a smile. 

Her belly quivers, and her chest tightens. 

"It'll be over in a minute," he says, squeezing her hand.

She nods, and swallows down, because it's the only thing she can do right now. She knows what he's talking about, and she knows it's true — they'll land, and everything will pass. 

Although something tells her that, whatever she's feeling right now, will not go away. It won't be over in a minute. It won't be over even when they're out and away from the plane. 

In fact, she's starting to believe that, as soon as Harry is next to her, looking at her like that, the fluttering in her stomach will never go away. 

if you've made it here, say caramel coffee :')

also, thank you for reading.

dani :)

PART THREE

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Guys!

Another weekend without a fic list ready or any asks, so I took it upon myself collect some fics for a Spooky-Themed list that I will probably have never gotten an ask about anyway. Since I've a lot of Halloween lists, I thought I would try something different and put out some Horror and Thriller Themed fics! I went through my MFL list and tag-searched "horror" and "thrilller", so these fics are ones that the author has tagged as such, so I can't guarantee frights... but I hope that y'all will enjoy this list anyway! I haven't read any of these so please heed the tags!

AND if you have a fave horror or psychological thriller story you've written or want to recommend, PLEASE do in the notes or reblogs and I'll add them to this list!

Happy Spooky Season, everyone!

HORROR / THRILLER FICS (MFLs)

See also:

Halloween Fics (Oct 2018)

Halloween and Ghosts (updated Oct 31/21)

Halloween Fics 2023 (MFLs)

5FF: Spooky Saturday Edition (Oct 31/20)

Ghosts / Figments (Updated Oct 2023)

Within by songlin (T, 992 w., 1 Ch. || Horror) – Amazingly enough, John notices it first. It must be something to do with combat instincts, or paying attention to nagging feelings despite any amount of contradictory evidence, or just paranoia. Whatever it is, it boils down to this: something is wrong.

Little Slices of Death by Enterthetadpole (E, 994 w., 1 Ch. || Friends To Lovers, Horror, Humour, Happy Ending, Case Fic, Romance) – Sherlock Holmes gets involved in a case where the victims and crimes that are eerily similar to the works of a certain horror author stories. Will he solve the case before the people around him die around him?

I O U by MintoKitsune (T, 1,299 w., 1 Ch. || Horror / Drama, Kidnapping) – Moriarty kidnaps John and leaves Sherlock a little message... A short one shot about Jim being his mean ol' self. (FFNet)

These Hands of Yours by okapi (E, 2,700 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Canon || Supernatural Elements, Horror, Hands, Anal Fisting / Fingering, Halloween) – Holmes has casts made of his hands. Watson falls in love. So do the hands.

The Babadook by CatieBrie (T, 6,886 w., 1 Ch. || Babadook Fusion || Post-TRF, Horror, Demonic Possession, Violence, Halloween, Grief, Angst with Happy Ending) – “A children’s book,” John mutters as he flips it open. The pages are scrawled with beautiful charcoal lines and thick black ink. The cover, bright red, edges the open pages and something tugs at the back of John’s brain. It’s a familiar feeling, black and tarrish and thick in his thoughts. He shakes it off and picks the book up off his bed, turning so that he can sit on the edge and spread the book out across his knees. If it’s in a word or it’s in a look, you can’t get rid of the Babadook. He turns the page, ignoring the pressure building beneath his chest. There’s a closet on one page; paper doors meant to be opened by the reader flutter as John reads the text on the other page.

Black Cat by CatieBrie (E, 7,158 w., 1 Ch. || Psychological Horror, Supernatural Elements, Disturbing Themes, Body Horror, Sex, Major Consent Issues / Possible Rape, MCD, Intent Magic, Ambiguity) – He’s watching Sherlock crawl up his body, doesn’t have to see to know he has a blade tucked away somewhere, knows his body will react no matter what. “Do you know what this is, John?” Sherlock holds up a doll made of rudimentary cloth stuffed with god knows what. It’s wearing a crude rendition of John’s favorite striped shirt, denim pants and the hair is too fine and blonde-shocked-grey to be anything else but his. John tries to answer, has no voice, shakes his head. “It’s a poppet.” Sherlock explains, pushes the arms together and John’s limbs react, snapping to his sides and remaining there even as he tries desperately to struggle free.

The Spirit Child by VelvetMace (M, 7,287 w., 1 Ch. || Psychological Horror, Disturbing Themes, Horror, Gore) – A small wooden box filled with clay and feotus bones yields more than just clues to a violent murder. A Halloween Story. Read at your own risk -- and I do not say this lightly.

Leaves by DiscordantWords (NR, 7,513 w., 1 Ch. || Dreams and Nightmares, Dream Sharing, Halluciinations, Horror / Unsettling, Ambiguous/Open Ending) – It came on a Wednesday, with the post. 

Ruins of the Dark by philalethia (M, 8,205 w., 1 Ch. || Dark Sherlock AU ||  Post-TRF, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Blood and Gore, Suicidal Thoughts, Extremely Dubious Consent) – Three years after “The Reichenbach Fall,” Sherlock comes back. But he comes back wrong.

The Web by DiscordantWords (M, 8,421 w., 2 Ch. || Post-TRF, Horror, Spiders, Horrific Imagery, Spying, Mild Gore) – Moriarty is dead. That doesn't mean he isn't watching.

I Could Try by Arcwin (T, 9,583 w., 5 Ch. || Greek Mythology Crossover || Post-TRF, Orpheus and Eurydice Myth, POV John, Pining John, BAMF John, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Horror, Angst with Happy Ending) – John is grieving Sherlock's death post Reichenbach until one day, he sees the violin case, and something inside him tells him to pick it up. Crossover between BBC Sherlock and the Greek tragedy Orpehus and Eurydice, wherein Eurydice is killed for her beauty and taken to the Underworld. Orpheus, being the son of Apollo (the God of Music and Medicine) travels to the Underworld to convince (via playing his lyre) Hades and Persephone to let Eurydice go. Orpheus then must travel with Eurydice behind him, not looking back, until they exit to the land of the living.

Puzzlebox by  standbygo (E, 9,867 w., 5 Ch. || Hellraiser Fusion || True Love, Supernatural Elements, Psychological Horror, First Kiss, Post S2, Angst with Happy Ending) – A love story with horror. A horror story with a happy ending.

Apprehension by BashfulBunny (M, 14,339 w., 19 Ch. || Thriller, Romance, Kidnapping, Drug Use, Medical, Undercover, Road Trips, Hurt/Comfort, BAMD Captain John, Action/Adventure, Falling in Love, Angst with Happy Ending, Mercenary John, Fluff and Angst, Protective John/Sherlock) – John and Sherlock have never met and don’t know each other. For some reason John kidnaps Sherlock (maybe he thinks he’s working for good people, while in fact they are bad and lie to him; he’s got an order to kidnap Sherlock Holmes and deliver him to somebody. John himself isn’t a bad person though). John is protective. When he realises that he, in fact, has done a really bad thing (and was lied to, depending on the scenario), he saves Sherlock (from his employers perhaps) and wants to take him back where he’d taken him. But he won’t be able to get rid of Sherlock easily, or at all for that matter. Sherlock won’t go.

Scream! by johnwatso (E, 15,250 w., 8 Ch. || Scream Crossover || Post S4, Horror / Slasher, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Case Fic, Minor Character Death, Copycat Killer, Three Garridebs Moment) – An unknown number starts calling Sherlock and asking questions about horror movies. John is pretty sure it's a serial killer.

The Writing on the Wall by grannysknitting (M, 24,139 w., 11 Ch. || Pre-S2, Horror/Supernatural, Mild Gore) – Lestrade notices John behaving oddly at a crime scene. Unfortunately so does Mycroft. What is it about the people living at 221B? (FFNet)

Still of the Night by michi_thekiller (E, 30,762 w., 22 Ch. || 1950s Dark Vampire Greaser AU || Vampire Sherlock, Greaser Sherlock, Nerd John, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Period-Typical Homophobia, Horror, Seduction) – 1.) Curfew must be obeyed. 2.) Streets must be clear by sundown. 3.) If you find yourself out after curfew, seek shelter at the home of a friend, relative, or neighbor whom you know and trust. 4.) Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES should any unknown persons be allowed into the home after curfew.

From a Well, Dark and Deep by Vulpesmellifera (M, 32,691 w., 18 Ch. || Post S4, Supernatural Elements, Horror / Mild Body Horror, Bed Sharing, Possession, Hand Holding, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Coming Out, Alternating POV, Nightmares, Caring John, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is desperately trying to reconcile his newfound memories and feelings within his transport—a transport that won’t quit with the nightmares and the strange, fiddly anxieties that crop up at the most inopportune moments. On the advice of his psychiatrist—not that he’s thrilled to be taking the man’s advice, but needs must—he's going to mark the anniversary of Eurus’ torments. That explains why he visits the well. What he finds at the well, though, is entirely unexpected. Meanwhile, John Watson has finally come to terms with something he’s ignored his entire life. He’s ready to share that something with Sherlock, except Sherlock isn’t acting himself. It's not the time for confessions, and John determines he must get to the bottom of his best friend's affliction before he can reveal anything. Part 3 of Vulpes' Halloween Johnlock

Slender: However Improbable by philalethia (M, 33,378 w., 5 Ch. || Slender Man AU || Post-TRF, Case Fic, Horror, Science Fiction, Supernatural Elements, Mild Gore) – Six months after The Fall, John is falling apart. Then a homeless woman is thrown from the roof of St. Bartholomew's; a tall, thin man in a black suit begins follow him; and John slowly realises that both he and Scotland Yard are very, very out of their depths.

Where The Ghosts Have Voices by HappyJuicyfruit (M, 37,691 w., 12 Ch. || Supernatural AU || Ghosts, Magical Realism, Light Horror, Fluff and Smut, John Can See Ghosts, John Whump, Emotional Manipulation, Dark Magic, Coma, Injury Recovery, Blow Jobs, Anal, Happy Ending, John’s Past, Mr Holmes, Powerful John, Holmes Brothers, Sherlock’s Past, Past Viclock, Drug Abuse, Hair Pulling) – John has lived his whole life as an outcast. It is only when he meets Sherlock, that be realizes being a freak might not be such a bad thing, and that the curse he has lived with his whole life may be a gift after all.

This Is Family by SaraStarchild (T, 39,840 w., 16 Ch. || Hereditary AU || Psychological Horror, Body Horror, Demonic Possession, POV Third Person Limited, Protective Mycroft, Cults, Mycroft Whump, Sherlock Whump, Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Retelling) – When the Holmes family's secretive mother and matriarch, Ellen Holmes, passes away, the family she leaves behind – father Martin, sons Mycroft and Sherlock, and daughter Eurus – begins to unravel cryptic and increasingly terrifying secrets about their ancestry. The more they discover, the more they find themselves trying to outrun the sinister fate they seem to have inherited. This is, pretty much, a word-for-word retelling of the 2018 Ari Aster film, Hereditary. Part 1 of Sherlock Halloween Stories

Emergency by EmeraldUrAFreak (M, 40,353 w., 24 Ch. || Teenlock AU || Teen Romance, Drug Use, Angst, Hospitalized John, Broken John, John Whump, Absent Parents, Sherlock Fixing John, Insecure John, Younger John, Older Sherlock, Helping Each Other, Papa Lestrade, Case Fic, Alternating POV, Mild Gore, Horror, Non-Graphic Violence, Corpses) – Recovering drug addict Sherlock Holmes meets supposedly permanently hospital stuck John Watson. As they become friends- and maybe even more - they have ups and downs finding out each other’s pasts. Sherlock is shocked at how deep John's goes resulting in a case of new stakes. Fixing old relations and creating new ones that are hard to keep in this dreadful time. They never knew what was waiting around the corner.

The Straw Man Fallacy by Vulgarweed (E, 40,422 w., 8 Ch. || Wicker Man AU || Ritual Sex, Sacrifice, Mystery and Horror, Romance, Fuck or Die, Dubious Morality, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pagan Festivals, Public Sex, First Time, Case Fic, Virgin Sherlock, Scotland, Kilts) – Summerisle is not a welcoming place to visitors, but it shows its best face at May Day. For ulterior motives.

Curse of the Were-Tuna by WhoGroovesOn (E, 46,916 w., 9 Ch. || Were-Creature AU || Nudity, Aquariums, Fish, Body Horror, Curses, Cuddling, Romance, Transformations, Frottage, Anal, Fem! Moriaty/Moran, First Time) – John couldn’t help but feel as though the large tuna beyond the glass was staring at him, which was weird because it’s not like fish had eyelids, they always seemed to be staring at things.

Distortion by holmesian_love (NR, 51,585 w., 23 Ch. || Post S4, Faked Suicide / Suicide Attempt, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Examination, PTSD, Psychological Horror, Blood, Spiders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Parentlock with Rosie, Angry John, Confusion) – John Watson is persuaded to move back into Baker Street with Rosie. The friendship -though delicate - is mending slowly after everything they've been through. That is, until strange events start happening to John which begin to disrupt the happy life they have been creating. Is there a medical explanation, or is something more sinister at play? Will they discover the cause before it tears them apart for good?

To Be Human by ohlooktheresabee (NR, 78,437 w., 13 Ch. || Post-THoB, Graphic Violence, Synesthesia, Case Fic, Serial Killers, Kidnapping, BAMF John, Sherlock is a Mess, Asexuality/Demisexuality, Torture, Protective John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Medical Procedures, Queerplatonic Relationships, Asperger Syndrome, Thriller, Insecure Sherlock, Touching, Caring John, Affection, Hurt Sherlock, Touch Starvation) – There is a serial killer on the loose with a penchant for collecting the brains of his victims. Sherlock, John and Scotland Yard are on the case, but something about the chosen victims has Sherlock on edge. While they piece together the clues that will lead to the killer, John begins to realize that the way his best friend thinks may sometimes be more a hindrance than a help...

The Killing Principle by Vulpesmellifera (E, 104,593 w., 46 Ch. || American AU || Gay John, Serial Killer Mary, Bum Appreciation, Sherlock is William, Dating Difficulties, BAMF Sherlock, Slow Burn, Thriller, Confessions, Whump, Angst with Happy Ending, Minor Character Death) – John Watson served twice in AmeriCorps, married his high school sweetheart, and then entered med school. A sudden arrest and accusation of multiple murders ends his promising career, irrevocably altering his life's trajectory. Acquitted of his wife’s crimes, John spends the next ten years as the maligned ex-husband of convicted serial killer Mercy Mary. A job offer draws him out of hiding and back to Connecticut - the very state where the crimes were committed. He needs the money, and the job is a dream. Then he meets the brilliant William Vernet, and it seems like he has a second chance at life and love. But the past has a way of catching up.

Monsters in the Woods by ArwaMachine (E,114,760 w., 16 Ch. || 1980′s Summer Camp Horror AU || Character Death, Violence, Gore, Spooky Stuff, Blow Jobs, Anal, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Period-Typical Homophobia) – John isn’t particularly sure why he took the counsellor position at Camp Baker Stream, an American-style summer camp for rich kids. He isn’t fond of the wilderness, nor is he fond of kids. He also isn’t sure if he’s fond of his cabin-mate, a strange bloke named Sherlock Holmes who seems perpetually on edge and more than a bit of an arse. It certainly doesn’t help that apparently the camp has a sordid past—a series of gristly murders that took place eight years ago, perpetrated by one James Moriarty. Sherlock seems convinced that the events of the past are doomed to repeat, but that idea seems to fall in the realm of the impossible. That is, until camp counsellors start going missing… Inspired by every 80s slasher flick that is so bad it’s good, this fic merges summer camp horror tropes with the BBC Sherlock universe, adding a sprinkle of smut for good measure!

Welcome to Silent Hill by Cleo2010 (M, 130,227 w., 37 Ch. || Silent Hill Fusion || POV First Person Sherlock, Unrequited Love, Psychological Horror, Violence / Gore, Monsters, Nudity, Drug Use, Harm to Children, Cults, Distressing Imagery, Torture, Death) – John is missing. When Sherlock receives a text summoning him to Silent Hill he's intent on reclaiming his friend but the town has other ideas. Our detective must battle through a world shaped by his own troubled psyche as he uncovers the town's secrets, attempts to find John and hunt down Jim Moriarty. Part 1 of the Welcome to Silent Hill series

In the Deep, Where Dark Things Sleep by HardlyFair (M, 184,979 w., 26 Ch. || Scorpio Races AU || Graphic Violence, 1960′s, Slow Burn, Past Drug Use, Bed Sharing, Water Horses, Folklore, First Kiss/Time, Horror Elements, Vet!John, Protective John, Magical Realism, Horse Racing, Mutual Pining, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort) – The closer time crawls to November, the more water horses the Scorpio Sea spits out. The colder Thisby becomes. Sherlock Holmes is an islander - completely surrounded by the water. John Watson, he knows, comes from the mainland and lives for the Races. On the first of November, Sherlock will race. The man holding steady by his side is someone he never expects. A Scorpio Races AU (Maggie Stiefvater), but no knowledge of the book needed.

WORKS IN PROGRESS

Closure by S_IRIS (E, 28,718+ w., 12/45 Ch. || WiP || Alternate Universe || Viclock then Eventual Johnlock, Falling in Love, Horror, Case Fic, Adventure of the Gloria Scott Adaptation, Emotional / Psychological Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Angst with Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Sherlock in Denial) – After a brush with death, Sherlock is convinced by Victor to recover in their country house and give their crumbling marriage one last chance. But the retreat turns into a nightmare when Sherlock starts to feel a malevolent presence in the house and finds no one believing him except the son of the missing groundskeeper.

The Things That Haunt Us by BRNZ (E, 92,993+ w., 18/? Ch. || Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dead People, Child Death, PTSD John, Psychological Horror, Nightmares, Bed Sharing, Heavy Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Childhood Trauma, Domestic Bliss, BAMF John, Friendship / Love, POV John, Pining John, Therapy) – What happens when a post war vet with PTSD takes up with a madman detective and they spend time investigating and solving some truly horrific crimes? How does the doctor who can kill with steady hand process all that additional trauma? How do we recognise that our past still haunts us, in ways we don't realise? When you are caught in a vicious cycle of needing the thrill of the chase, and having to deal with the fallout...what happens when you might need to choose between the two for your own sanity? The story of how two damaged men managed to find their way back to each other and begin to make a future together.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 14

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

WARNING: TW/Mentions of past Suicidal ideations

First - Prev - Next

CH.14

“You’re just going to give him free reign of the house?”

“I did not think you of all people would have a problem with this, you were the one who expressed the most disapproval with keeping him in the containment unit.”

“Yes, but wasn’t your main concern that he would leave?”

“Fiddleford, he was homeless. Where else is he going to go?”

“Well there is that Rick character he keeps mentioning…”

“You sound a bit on edge, do you remember him from Backupsmore?”

“Remember him?”

“Do you remember Diane Sanchez? He’s her husband- well, he was her husband.”

“I’m afraid the name doesn’t ring a bell…”

“Hmm, I’m not surprised, engineering wasn’t her major. Regardless, you’re better off having not met him. I don’t believe we have to worry about him. He is… very far away.”

“And Stan has no hard feelings towards you?”

“On one hand, he tells me he believes I’m only keeping here as part of an elaborate, delusional grieving process, and he will ‘play along’ however long that process takes. On the other hand, he wrote ‘Look what I did to your other hand’ on my hand in marker while I was asleep, and on quite literally the other hand he drew a turkey. Fiddleford, stop laughing.”

“I wouldn’t call that malicious, but it certainly explains why you decided to keep your gloves on outside of the lab. And he agreed we could continue to study his memory loss?”

“Yes, he did - I assume that’s what you two were discussing earlier?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You were up in the attic with him for at least an hour this morning, I assume you were conducting another interview? Locking the door was a bit excessive but without a neurology or psychology degree myself I am in no place to question your methods.”

“Interview-? Oh, um, yes. Interviewing. That’s exactly what we were doing. And nothing else.”

“Of course. Now- do you know where he is? I need to talk to him about an upcoming Cryptid Hunt.”

“You’re going to take him with you?”

“I was hoping both of you would accompany me actually. But if he will not, I’d need you to stay back here with him if you wouldn’t-”

“I wouldn’t mind none.”

“Thank you for your patience and understanding Fiddleford, I’m glad I was correct in my assumption that you’d be the best suited to assist me.”

“Any of our other colleagues woulda called the cops on your presumptuous behind.”

“...I know, and I am grateful you didn’t. Now, where is he?”

“Last I saw him was in the attic trying to cover up the window with a sheet - some type of paranoia? And I heard him come downstairs a few minutes ago but I haven’t seen him. If I were to take a guess though, he most likely went through that hatch leading to the platform on your roof - it’s still open.”

“What? Stanley can’t be on the roof, he’s afraid of heights.”

*Stan abruptly drops from the hatch, landing on his feet*

“Guys you won’t believe this but some dude in a giant moth costume just flew by- woah, you alright there PhD? You look like you already saw a ghost.”

(...)

*a series of clicking noises and hoots*

“Antenna curling! That's his tell! I fold.”

“Sorry, Stanley, but it appears Mothman was bluffing.”

“What? I had 4 aces! That moth is a wizard! Guess it’s up to you to win this for us, Doc.”

*Mothman takes a bite out of a wool cardigan, Fiddleford nearby with no chips angrily crosses his arms*

“...He's mocking me.”

“I was cheating the last 8 turns, too.”

“Stanley, for shame.”

“What? I already folded. This cheater didn’t prosper.”

(...)

“Good on you for winning, Stanford.”

“Of course, I’m just sorry that I couldn’t win before he took more bites out of your cardigan.”

“Good thing I had this flashlight to distract him, he really is a moth.”

“...Did you steal that from my coat closet?”

“Yes.”

“What else did you steal?”

“Well it’s a good thing Mothman didn’t have any money on him ‘cause you wouldn’t have anywhere to put it.”

“Give me back my wallet, Stanley.”

“Poor sport.”

(...)

“D-E-F-P-O-T-E-C”

“Now use both eyes, what’s the smallest line you can read?”

“Line ten. L-E-F-O-D-P-C-T.”

“Oculus dexter and oculus sinister are both 20/20, but your oculus uterque is 20/15.”

“Look we’ve been at this snail chart-”

“Snellen chart.”

“Whatever, we’ve done this like five times. What’s the point? I already told you I don’t need glasses.”

“It just doesn’t make sense… We’re identical, your visual acuity should be 20/40 or above because years of straining would make your vision even worse than mine.”

“I dunno what you want me to tell you PhD, my eyes are fine.”

“...Did Sanchez have something to do with this?”

“Sanc-.”

“Rick Sanchez. I know that’s the Rick you’ve off-handedly mentioned several times.”

“How can you be so sure? It’s a pretty common name.”

“Because you would be familiar with that egotistical, destructive, jaded, cynical-”

“Okay so you do know Rick. And yeah, we ran in the same circle for a bit, what about it?”

“He was always doing morally questionable experiments-”

“That’s funny coming from you.”

“-but altering physiology was something he had a special interest in. Did he give you some form of eye surgery or technological implant?”

“You think I’d let that nihilistic asshole near my eyes while I was passed out… or awake? Hell no. I don’t remember ever having vision problems. The closest he ever came to ‘altering’ me or whatever the fuck you’re tweaking about was help me steal a bunch of pills from the Galac-the government.”

“You- Why did you steal pills?”

“I couldn’t get decent sleep, and after getting my stomach pumped it’s not like any doctor was ever going to give me ambien or anything stronger ever again. Also, to stick it to the man.”

“... Stanley, did you- did you overdose on ambien?”

“Twice.”

“... Was it on purpose?”

“... Once. Only once. Don’t-. Don’t look at me like I’m a kicked puppy. I know it’s messed up. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I did it to myself, it isn’t anyone else’s fault. And I dunno what the fallout of your separation ten years ago was like, but no matter what happened this definitely wasn't your fault.

Look, if it makes you feel better, whatever you and specs have been spiking into my food and water has been working pretty great. I’m getting way better sleep here than I have in years.”

“We have not been putting drugs into your food or water.”

“If you say so, Doc.”

To be continued…

[hwaightme]

Motivate me

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

📝 pairing: postgrad!hongjoong x afab!undergrad!reader 📝 genre: smut, fluff if you squint, psychology 📝 summary: every week, you met with your tutor, Kim Hongjoong. And every week, you told yourself to let go of your fantasies. But what if just a dive into self-determination was all what was needed to stop the hour from running out? 📝 wordcount: 10.2k 📝 warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, language, teasing, references to psychology studies, mention of losing one's mind, fantasising, day dreaming, university setting, lecture hall, mention of tests, hj fluctuating between hard and soft dom, tutor hj, lmk if anything! 📝 taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @izuijin @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 📝 a/n: Good time of day~ sometimes one wonders if Freud would be a fanfic writer, sometimes one is just in the mode of 'head empty only Hongjoong'. Thank you so much for your love and support, biggest hugs

📝 nsfw tags: fingering, overstimulation (a bit), edging, sub!reader, dom!hj, a tid-bit of pain play - smacking/slapping/stepping on someone, exhibitionism(???), public sex, protected sex, a lot of petnames (sweetheart, pet, baby girl), sir, slave, degradation, humiliation, pet/master and slave/master dynamic

The ticking of a clock from a bygone era, clinging onto the wall by a rusty nail, a sword of Damocles over head of any professor to use the blackboards above which it was hanging. The distant shouts and laughter of students outside the lecture hall, enthusiastically recounting their weekend plans even though it was still the middle of the week– every attempt to erase the gruelling hours of study. The soft golden sunrays, not caring for the half-closed venetian blinds over the windows occupying nearly the entire side of the room, sneaking into the room and dancing over your skin as you cupped your head in your hand and leaned onto the desk.

You were here again, waiting to get your fix; a habit you could not quit. There was no real purpose for you to be meeting with Kim Hongjoong, revising the same material over and over until you could recount it in your sleep. You were doing well enough in your studies now, had other plans, other interests, and yet all the roads still led you right back to the psychology department building. Its carved mahogany pillars, antique tomes overfilling the grand shelves in the main library, the intricate plaster design in the myriad of maze-like, marble tile corridors. Your feet moved on their own accord, leading you to the same hall, again and again, hoping for some miracle.

The way you and Hongjoong had met could not be any more standard and uninspiring. It was the middle of the fall semester. You were an undergraduate student having trouble with a particular module, he was a postgraduate student conducting research with your professor as his supervisor, you asked for help, were appointed to Hongjoong as a tutee… and the rest was history. Truth be told, you had been terrified of having him help you study initially – from the few students who he had agreed to work with in the past, you had heard that he was strict, demanding, impatient and near despotic. He had a reputation of a judgemental man who counted down the seconds until he could free himself of the vermin that were his juniors.

How you wanted to laugh at this severe prejudice now! After the initial session where you two had established ground rules and expectations, and you had the bright idea of preparing a concise collection of syllabus requirements together with known assessment timings, it was as though someone had flipped a switch inside the young man. Hongjoong had perked up at your interest and had gotten rid of his cold demeanour once you had managed to remain proactive and engaged all throughout his ramblings – no easy feat when discussing human development and cognition.

And now, with two terms having passed by and the end of your academic journey approaching, you were still meeting. Hongjoong seemed to have an innate talent for thinking of something new to discuss with you – just so another session could take place. You strongly doubted that what was happening between you could still be considered a mere tutorship, however; While the core of your conversations remained locked in the realm of psychology and human behaviour analysis, the subtle nuances and implied deviations of meaning had taken on an entirely different palette.

The distance between you was continuously being tested, with a fleeting caress here, a playful touch there, but never anything beyond that. Even though you, supposedly, were training to be masters of understanding the human psyche, you were struggling, or perhaps more accurately, afraid to decipher each other’s intentions, instead leaving it to wishful thinking and irretrievable opportunities lost. Your heart remained in the paradise of the hours spent with Hongjoong but hoped that time could freeze. The clock on the wall was showing five minutes past five – quite unlike him to be late.

Part of you wondered if it was because, finally, Hongjoong began to grow tired of these sessions, of you. Perhaps those students were right after all, and you had merely been seeing what you wanted to see, falling into the trap of confirmation bias. But that hypothesis had no anecdotal evidence to support it – he was an ‘exact’ man, arriving and leaving on the dot regardless of any circumstances. Aside from staying over time once last term, resulting in him physically stiffening around you and being jittery for the next few meetings. You took it as anxiety or need for order, projecting what you had covered in class onto him.

The man in question was gazing at you through the window in the door, having spent the last few minutes trying to collect his thoughts. After having spent the last two terms in torturous denial, he could not find strength in himself to hold back anymore. And that started with this damn hour. It was like a shackle, constraining the two of you to a particular routine and forcing you to remain going round and round in circles. Hongjoong figured that you probably even struggled to ideate meeting him outside of these bounds, remembering the barely audible gasp and widened eyes when you accidentally bumped into him a couple of weeks ago. It probably had meant nothing to you, but to him it turned into a time bomb mechanism. He needed to do something, and fast, before the chances to act ran out entirely.

But look who was talking - at first opportunity he would jolt out of his seat and guide you to the door. He did not dare entertain the thought of going any further, for he knew, if he did so, there would be no going back. Such a move – out of line, and out of the allocated time, had served as the beginning of his highly unprofessional interest in you. That additional half an hour, last term in mid-December, poring over a textbook, one that he was not even able to read in the blur of his emotion and acute sensitivity towards your warmth, nearly right against his cheek, those thirty minutes had spelled his personal disaster.

Hongjoong had never expected to be anything but indifferent towards you. In the grand scheme of things, you could have been just a passing figure. But life had other plans and led him right into the trap that you had not realised you set. First, you came to be who he thought of when he worked - he grew accustomed to filtering papers and studies through a lens of what you could find interesting and relevant, inadvertently leading him to making double the efforts - for the both of you. Next, you transformed into his daydream, consuming his rest and innocuous musings - on multiple occasions he had caught himself contemplating what your preferences were between this or that, or whether you went to see the play you had told him about last week... He thought it would stop at that, alas, the control you had over his mind could not be contained. From day to night, you haunted him, your tasteful attire mentally exterminated by the unbridled desire that consumed him, from early echoes in-situ to hurricanes that left him shuddering in the privacy of his sin. Hongjoong was driving himself insane with you, and he was exhausted of not knowing whether you felt the same way about him.

There were signs, of course, hell, even the pretty little skirt and thigh high boots you chose to wear today were screaming at him and leaving him breathless. But this was all elements of uncertainty, at least until he was to make it the one goal to carry out his series of experiments and prove to both of you that you had long passed the stage of wanting. To one another, you had transformed into an unavoidable need.

It was another three minutes until he finally deemed it appropriate to press down on the door handle, and make his presence known. He expected the same reaction from you as always - a flutter of the eyelashes as you raised your head, how you studied him as though you were committing him to memory, and those soft, plump lips forming a coy smile in greeting. These traditionally insignificant gestures made Hongjoong go into overdrive and fantasise a totally different agenda for the tutorial. Maybe you knew what you were doing, maybe you didn't. But either way, he desperately wanted to become the only one to control those expressions, that inner world you only revealed to him in teasing snippets. Hongjoong simply wanted to own it.

“Did you read the papers I recommended?” It was something of a ritual at this point: he asked a question, you answered, then silence overtaking and lasting from the first exchange to the moment he sat right beside you in the same row, and then you began sharing musings on whatever topic of the week was.

Your head snapped up as soon as you heard the familiar dulcet tone. Finally, Hongjoong had decided to make an appearance, you had feigned ignorance of his lingering form, allowing him to loiter in the corridors while you took in the blissful ambiance of the quiet lecture hall, and considered possible reasons behind his silly actions. So, in a split second, you decided, if he was to be starting the session in an odd manner, it was only your duty to continue.

“Why were you late, Doctor Kim?” you asked, coquettish, emphasising the title that Hongjoong was in the process of trying to attain. He attempted to convince you on a number of occasions that you had no grounds to call him that, but the suppressed look of pride that graced his features, even if just due to the sense of superiority, made your little joke worth it.

The question made Hongjoong freeze in place, right at the entrance to your row. His grip on the leather briefcase he carried almost everywhere tightened, and he readjusted his glasses as a way to distract and calm himself. Evidently, you were onto him, seeing as you decided to veer off-script too. Had you been watching without him realising? With all his might he fought his darkening expression and stalked towards you without saying a single word in return. As he flipped the cushioned seat down and set the case on the elongated table attached to the next line of chairs, you unabashedly continued to follow his every move with your eyes.

Hongjoong’s look was what could be described as a simple elegance. Dressed from head to toe in black, each article of clothing fit immaculately, and highlighted his toned form in just the right places. The thin cashmere turtleneck, together with what you could only assume to be a tailormade blazer, perfectly accentuated his torso, and guided the vision from his delicate hands to his neck, and finally, to his bespectacled face. Effortlessly styled onyx locks made him appear every bit a gentleman, while the studded earrings hinted at a subliminal rebelliousness. His remarkable sense of taste, along with the way in which he could steal all your attention, were timeless truths.

Only once he was settled, his tablet set aside and stylus in one hand, knee almost brushing against yours as he turned a little ways towards you, did he recall what you had said, wondering whether he should let you keep calling him that, as a pleasant formality. In spite of the appeal that the notion had, Hongjoong chose to not entertain the thought any further, and instead let his discreet glances trail down your body, landing on the edge of the mini skirt where it had ridden up, only a little, but enough to give space for creative thought.

“I had some… business to attend to.” He could not think of anything better, but did not want the quiet to last any longer than it had already been. You were polite enough to not keep this particular conversation going, humming in return as you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

As you did so, Hongjoong caught the scent of your perfume, his favourite, which left him intoxicated. The floral notes with deliciously sweet undertones dealt permanent damage and taught him to search for you whenever there would be as much as a hint of anything similar. He bit the inside of his cheek as he watched you uncross and slide one leg over the other again. He was at his limit with you, this weekly hour having become a test in its own right.

Now that he was so close, the hall shrunk to a tiny suffocating chamber, where it was only you and him, and the setting sun lazily dragging across the sky outside. You had a tendency to forget just how quickly time could pass when with Hongjoong and were cursing the almost fifteen minutes that had already disappeared.  It was easy to form an image in your mind of him showing up later and later, until he would appear one minute before the end, and then not at all. Perhaps, you needed to start getting over your private teacher, but that was definitely difficult to start when you could sense his scrutiny – his special focus on your thighs did not go unnoticed, a win in your outfit selection books. His overwhelmingly tantalising presence. His hand suddenly tapping your shoulder, not remaining there for as long as you would like.

“So, about that reading?” Hongjoong tilted his head, and smiled softly, though his eyes held something unreadable.

“Of course.” Your voice had inadvertently dropped to a whisper, making the young man’s wandering observations cease immediately, snapping right back to you. After a short pause, he cleared his throat, and forced himself to steer back to the standard collection of lines you had abided by for long enough.

“Then let’s get started?” he wished the phrase would come out less as a question, but for today, or well, tonight in particular, he felt the need to ask for affirmation; subconsciously, he was testing the waters. “Explain to me, what is self-determination theory, and who are some prominent figures that helped develop it?”

You smoothed the pages of the notebook laid open right before you.

"The macro theory of self-determination, which has first been actively developed and brought to our modern understanding by Ryan and Deci, explores and evaluates the outcomes of actions related to human agency. This theory proposes three basic psychological needs, namely autonomy, competence, and relatedness, and introduces a relationship between the satisfaction of said needs, intrinsic motivation, and the regulation of extrinsic motivation.”

You kept your voice as steady as you could, reciting the passages you had highlighted while reviewing the material. Hongjoong was listening intently, nodding along to every phrase, humming in approval as you halted. His stylus remained hovering above the tablet, not touching it a single time. Before, he would litter page after page with critiques, ranging from semantics and your choice of phrasing to the way in which you would reference relevant works. The list of adjustments had been endless, but instead of deterring you, like it had done for your peers, it ignited a foreign motivation. You wanted to prove that you were better. That, give you one piece of advice, you would move ten steps forward and soar. This drive had been your saving grace as it helped you forget prior failure. Prevented unnecessary worry. Along with the fervent wish to impress your tutor came the consistency and dedication to the subject necessary for you to pass with flying colours. In a way, Hongjoong had made you. Crafted who you needed to be in the span of a few weeks. And permanently etched himself into your psyche.

The blank state of the page was a testament to just how intertwined you were, tied together so tight you could barely breathe. You would not be surprised if you moved in synchronicity, and your hearts beat at the same rhythm. All the usual words had already been spoken, leaving behind an electrifying atmosphere that needed a new, symbiotic approach. A fresh start. An unspoken agreement seemed to pass between you and Hongjoong, as with one final spin of the pen-like accessory, he returned it to the built in holder in the casing, and clicked the tablet locked. You paid unnecessarily close attention to the darkening of the screen, until you realised that the man beside you was doing the exact same, and you accidentally locked eyes in the reflection. The fraying edge of your notebook’s cover was suddenly beyond interesting, and you darted to fixate on the miniature tears. You demonstratively picked at the faux leather binding to expose a tiny portion of the cardboard underneath, and waited for Hongjoong to continue. He was yet to comment, but took it upon himself to stop the nervous motion by placing his hand over yours, and lightly shaking his head.

The innocent gesture, gone as fast as it had happened, did the opposite of soothing you – instead of the ticking of the clock, you were listening to the adrenaline-fuelled heartbeat, a staccato resonating in the eardrums. All you were hoping for was that you were not prudish enough to let blush coat your cheeks from a mere few seconds of contact. But your yearning was slowly becoming more and more of a problem, now that his leg was pressed against yours. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Hongjoong remained outwardly unperturbed, though the same could not be said for his inner world – that slight reaction from you, one that he was able to detect only because he was searching for it, was enough to set him ablaze and reeling. He needed to slow down if he wanted this to go according to plan. The now continuous touch was enough for the time being - discreet enough to not be outwardly suspicious, but if his investigation and desires were to align, a respectable next step.

“Good. Very good, now let’s take that apart, shall we?” he praised, and leaned on the table with his elbow, facing you. You were curious about what exactly did he actually want to take apart. “You mentioned human agency. Care to elaborate on what that means?”

An instinctive reach for your notes – a desperate cry for support from your brain that was currently going haywire, was cut short by a soft reprimand from your not quite tutor, not quite something more. He encouraged you to be a bit more patient, stating as a matter of factly that this was something you should be able to recollect without assistance. Maybe if you were being assessed by anyone else, just not him. Hongjoong was visually ravaging you, more and more of you, with each passing minute, and you were afraid that soon enough, you would lose control. You wanted to allow yourself to melt under his gaze, to sink into his momentary touches and feel more than just the enticing heat emanating from his body.

Back and forth, the two of you exchanged one fact after another, not once veering off into any other territory except self-development theory. However, within it, your communication had transformed into something a lot less bland for your excited tastes. In a brazen manner, Hongjoong navigated you through a myriad of themes, maintaining a level of seductive ambiguity that was sufficient to keep you guessing and riled up.

It was an odd stroke of luck, how you had been assigned to the one teaching assistant and postgraduate student who was your favourite eye candy during the lectures. He had agreed to attend only a few in the very beginning of the series, since he much preferred to follow his own rhythm, but had stolen your focus at once. Following a disastrous mock test, it was only common practice for your department to assign you to a senior buddy – even if they initially protested and explicitly, in your presence, rejected the deal. Had that been hurtful? Only a little, dissipating in a blink, especially since it led you to where you were now. With forty-five minutes having past, breathing shallowing out into haphazard gulps, and conversation deeply dedicated to extrinsic and intrinsic motivation.

Hongjoong currently had one arm resting on the back of your chair, almost embracing you, and the other gliding with a pen over your notebook, sketching out the diagram of the self-determination continuum from memory. While he was concentrating, you were indulging in the closeness, no longer as engaged in what he was explaining – you had shutdown some time ago, choosing to admit your fervid attraction towards him, at least to yourself. It was comical how you still could hum in agreement at all the right times, nod, or tilt your head. A couple of times you had even mustered a pout, which had made Hongjoong noticeably still.

“…Y/N.” he roughly called you out of your daydream, eyebrow raised. He was obviously unamused, but you could see something contradictory between his actions and the picture painted in his dark orbs. You could almost believe that he had been waiting for a slip up like this, an opportunity to scold you, to really teach you a lesson. “You know I don’t like it when you misbehave and do not listen.”

He could have used passive terms, different pronouns, phrased the comment differently, but no. This was Hongjoong we were talking about. The Hongjoong with his eyes glazed over, resisting the impulse to pounce on you then and there, hanging on by a thread of professional theory. There was not much other proof that he required from you, as you were obvious enough. It did give him a level of satisfaction to know just how severely he could affect you, however, his charms turned out to be a double-edged sword. The more responsive you became, the more intensely his desire resonated.

“But I was…” you trailed off, arguing just for the sake of it.

“Then repeat what I just said.”

“Uhm, that the motivation is regulated by means of punishment on one side,” you slowed your speech, raising one hand to point at the left side of the unfinished diagram with a perfectly manicured nail, “and inherent satisfaction on the other.” Your tone exposed your goal of making the explanation into a euphemism and made Hongjoong bite his lower lip. You were catching up to him in your guesswork, weren’t you?

You yearned for Hongjoong to act before you did something indecent. So, you eagerly played along. If he wanted you to be a little more needy, you were more than happy to oblige and act clueless. Anything for this hour to become an eternity.

You felt a hand being placed on your exposed thigh, between your skirt and boot, then slowly, tentatively, it moved up, closer and closer to the checkered fabric. Fingers flittered across your skin and made it under the material, stopping only right at the sensation of having found the concealed lace. As his other hand let go of the pen to cup your chin and direct you to meet his darkened, sultry gaze, you let out a soft gasp, and shifted your hips just a little, to highlight to yourself that he could have you right where he wanted, and you were ready to beg for it.

“Not quite. But of course, this is something you want to focus on, you…” he hesitated to continue the sentence, choosing to prolong the silence, and keep you frozen in place.

“You… what?” you tried to coax the inevitable change out of him. This limbo could not be left to remain between you.

“…need…” he forced out, fighting himself. Holding back. You felt the pressure on your jaw weaken, so you took to nudging his thumb out of position, making it graze your lips.

“Need?” you repeated after him and waited for a continuation. After a second, ten, thirty, you realised that Hongjoong was peeking at the omnipresent timekeeper above the blackboards.

It was the hour. It had not even crossed your mind, since normally it would be the duty of an obnoxiously loud alarm on Hongjoong’s phone to alert you. But today, it was dead silent. He was so unlike the tutor you had interacted with before, but so like the man who you wanted to belong to. You tuned into the ticking and the heat building up inside you. Leaning in closer, with the tension between your bodies having reached unprecedented heights, you fluttered your eyelashes a few times, formed a cute smile and made a simple request that you knew would be the trigger:

“Please, Joongie, can you help me revise?” the nickname made his cognition fuzzy, so he remained conflicted and held back.

“Shit, Y/N. You are making things really hard for me, you know that?” he breathed out, turning to peer at you through half-lidded eyes. In flash of confidence after being humoured by the phrase you reached out to put a hand on Hongjoong’s chest, tracing a line with a finger, all the way down until you reached the waistband of his trousers, and toyed with the golden buckle of what had to be a rather pricey belt.

“Oh yes, I do. Much like you know that I am in dire need of motivation.” enveloped in an uncontainable lust, Hongjoong let go of your chin, positioning his hand right on the back of your head, fingers snaking themselves through your hair, and pulled you in until you were a mere couple of centimetres away.

“Are you sure, pet?” his exhale was hot on your skin, and you tilted yourself into him, impatient with this back and forth.

“You sure ask a lot of questions, Joongie-”

Any further retorts were cut off by Hongjoong taking off his glasses and closing the space between you and crashing his lips with yours. You barely had time to react as he gave your hair a slight tug to angle you for a deeper kiss. There was no longer any pressure against your thigh, as instead, his arm had slinked around your waist, and was urging you to slide even closer. Without much resistance you let yourself be guided, twisting yourself and letting the seat which you had occupied return to its folded state before lifting a leg and moving to straddle the handsome brunette.

Though you now had a certain advantage, with Hongjoong having to tilt his head up a little, it did nothing to change just how quickly you unravelled at his touch. It felt like a hallucination, finally getting a taste of what you had been craving for too long. But, despite the fact that you were here, revelling in this united intimacy, it was not enough. A greed had awoken within you alongside the building unrefined high, provoking you to give into the animalistic hunger and quit pretending. Remnants of your usual elegance evaporated as the temperature rose, leaving the real, primal you. The tantalising possibility of having the numerous scenarios occupying the inner conscious erased your ability to form any coherent thoughts. You wanted to be capable of only one thing now, and that was devoting yourself to the man whose saliva was sending you into a frenzy. The man who was physically under you, but you constantly struggled to reach. The man who had you wrapped around his finger.

"Hongjoong..." you sighed into the kiss, earning a hum from your seducer.

Masterfully, without breaking away from the electrifying contact, he began to unbutton your silk blouse, only stopping once to admire you, whispering a string of praises. Each one cemented itself within you, as though it was novel, unheard of. It was reminiscent of a scientific discovery, like those words had no significance to you before he carefully selected them in your address. It wasn't long before your top was shrugged off, and found a home under Hongjoong's seat, having you remain only in your bra. You had ensured that every Wednesday, you were to dress your best at every layer, if not for exposure, then at least for confidence. And now it paid off, as your target audience slid his hands with the attentiveness of an examiner across from your abdomen to your chest, halting at the solar plexus.

Hongjoong leaned back to appreciate how worked up you already were, on the verge of mewling like a kitten for him to give you more. Before you could say anything, he manoeuvred to unclasp the article. The suddenness of the motion made your teeth click together, but instead of deterring you only added fuel to the fire in your core. Now having full access to your breasts, he did not hesitate to cup them in his hands, unrestrained, and proceeded to knead them, paying special attention to your aroused nipples with a few methodical flicks and teasing pinches. You were putty in his hands, fading into moans muted by Hongjoong’s tongue grazing your canines, exploring you.

His hands traced the contours of your body, gliding down to your hips and pulling the skirt further up until it was a flimsy accessory that left nothing to the imagination. Roughly grabbing your ass, he moved up towards you as you grinded once, twice, until you were on the growing bulge underneath his trousers. As soon as you were flush against him, you own movement growing sloppier by the second, he tilted his head back just a little and hissed by your cheek:

“So fucking selfish, baby girl. Demanding all this attention from me.” He moved to plant a kiss on your earlobe, nipping at the cartilage. You let out a shaky breath, returning the sensation by peppering a series of kisses across the side of his face, stopping right at the corner of his plump lips.

“You’re making me feel so good, Joong-” your hunger was not subsiding as you tried to capture his mouth with yours, only to be rejected by a harsh comment:

“That’s Sir to you, pet.”

“I knew you liked it when I-”

“One more word out of that pretty mouth of yours and I am not going to be so nice.” Hongjoong warned you, sternly, a hint of aggression behind his words. This made you wonder how he would be if completely enraged. Perhaps you would find out someday, but this time around, you wanted to try your best to be a good girl for him.

“Anything to help me learn my lesson…” you paused to glance into Hongjoong’s eyes, as wild as yours, “…Sir.”

“Little troublemaker trying to be the teacher’s pet?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Then tell me, what’s intrinsic motivation again?” he smirked as he kissed your jawline and breathed right against the side of your neck, making you whine. He took great pleasure in seeing how your head rolled back as he found a particularly sensitive region, and after giving it a quick introductory peck, began to hungrily devour, sucking and nipping at the skin until it grew a new shade of pink.

“Mpfh- this-” you gasped as he moved to treat another area with the same affection, peppering kisses across your collar bone and jugular.

“Well, isn’t that just lovely. So desperate to be satisfied that you are willing to do anything. Well tell me, what do you need to do to get what you need?”

“Anything?” a sharp slap resounded when his palm made contact with your ass, accompanied by a yelp from you. You had to steady yourself by grabbing onto Hongjoong’s shoulders, and refrain from shaking.

“Try harder, baby girl. As if I’d give you the answer just like that.”

“Make you… feel so good…”

“Lacking in originality, but I’ll give it to you. Well done, you’re catching on. Never disregard the extrinsic, Y/N. We all want motivation.” He dropped his voice low, mocking your earlier words, and planted one more kiss right on your collarbone, taking a couple of seconds to commit his artwork on your skin to memory.

You felt him adjust his positioning, and wrap his arms around your thighs, somehow managing to move you even closer to him. It was impossible to ignore your own arousal, as well as his that you could feel through your own panties, while in one effort, he carefully rose from his seat and planted you in front of him, right on the table. The desks were probably the newest addition to the lecture hall, having been completed out of a sturdy fibreboard. But that also meant that they barely registered any changes in temperature and shocked you with their coolness against your exposed flesh. When Hongjoong set you down on, he reached for the soaked material of your panties, tugging on the waistband a couple of times.

“But I like to lead by example, pet. I want to show you how I want you, and how you should want me.”

You were about to give a feeble response, but it got caught inside your throat along with a gasp for air, as you were overwhelmed by the feeling of Hongjoong’s fingers going under the fabric, along your sensitive folds and deep into your pussy. Taking it slow, he let his fingers glide right back out, now coated with your nectar, and he took to massaging your blooming clit, rubbing the region unhurriedly, only to move right down between the lips once more, and up again.

You desperately needed him inside you, and attempted to encourage this by bucking your hips just a bit towards him, but to no avail, as with his free hand he grasped your hip roughly, and tugged you back to the table. Once he decided that you were ready, Hongjoong easily slid his nimble digits inside, up to his knuckles, and commenced their ecstasy-inducing pumping at a steady pace, albeit slow for your preferences. But you knew better than to complain when your desires were still progressively being fulfilled.

“Look at you, pretty girl, so fucking wet for me already,” he picked up his speed, enjoying how rapidly that forced a lewd moan out of you and caused you to lean forward, seeking stability in Hongjoong’s body. With your foreheads pressed together, and your breaths becoming shakier, he continued to taunt you, “See how willing you are to bow to me?”

“Yes, shit, please, just don’t stop-”

“Enthusiastic, are we? Well, remember this for how I will quiz you later by seeing how you treat me. I want you to imprint this in your mind. Every damn second. How well your tight cunt takes to me, how you crumble beneath me.”

“Yes Sir-ah!”

He curled his fingers and stepped closer towards you, his body turned a little off to the side. The pulsing of his still-clothed erection against your leg, as well as the stimulation he was giving to your sex was making you see stars. You had dreamt of this for so long and were not holding back in letting Hongjoong know of your pleasure by the pants and hushed yelps that escaped your open mouth. Music to his ears.

“You’re such a slut for this, so fucked out from just my fingers. I bet you have thought about this before, haven’t you, Y/N?”

“Oh fuck yes, Sir, yes I have, I…” you could not finish your sentence as he began to pump at an even faster rate than before. The knot that had formed in your stomach since the beginning of the ‘tutorial’ you had together, which turned out to be prolonged intellectual foreplay, was now growing unbelievably stronger, and stronger, coiling light a metal spring.

“I’ll let you in on a secret – I have wanted to see you like this, squirming underneath me, for just as long.”

Though his words were an unabashed expression of salaciousness, you could read a genuine affection in his eyes. You could almost guarantee that there was a life, perhaps even a love beyond this common indulgence in carnality. At least you wanted to believe that that was the case, even though your focus was also fully lust-riddled, and your high was fast-approaching.

“Every time you would follow me with your eyes as I excited the room, or how you would shamelessly flirt with me though I did not give anything back… you really are so needy. Practically begging to worship me, huh?”

“Y-yes…” your speech was faltering, and you locked your hands behind Hongjoong’s neck, unable to stabilise yourself alone any longer. Your climax was imminent.

“Dreaming of when you could have all of me to yourself… so fucking dedicated. Do you think you deserve a reward?”

“You… decide… Sir…” you choked out, resting your head against the crook of his neck, inhaling his inebriating scent.

“Such a good girl, that’s right. I do decide. And because you are being so obedient, I am treating you this well. How does that make you feel?” He teased, purposefully employing the overused phrase. It made you recall where you were exactly, and just what you were doing, the shame spurring you on.

“Thank you, sir- ah!”

“Grateful, is that right?” voice husky, he confirmed.

“Yes… mmh, fuck yes please-”

You were drawing a blank – if before you were at least able to state a few words in an order that made sense, now you were approaching the edge of complete ruin and could no longer contain yourself. An intense warmth was spreading all through your lower half, shooting outwards to every neuron in your body, down to your toes, contracted in pleasure, and all the way to your dishevelled locks. Only a couple of seconds ago did shame flash before you, accusing you for whoring yourself out so impatiently and desperately inside a university classroom, but Hongjoong had a talent for making you forget. If he kept at it, you would even forget your own name. He was pumping faster and faster, his arm muscles tightening along with your grip on his blazer, crumpling the material. It was only a matter of seconds, your breathing shallowed, moans grew breathier – if you were a gun, then Hongjoong was about to pull the trigger. You shut your eyes on instinct, expecting the rolling waves of a climax to hit you, but-

Your ‘small death’ never arrived. With a whine you sent a confused glare in Hongjoong’s direction, searching for an answer, any sign from him. This was not fair. You needed his attention back this instant, how dare he cut this euphoria? Why was he so intent on driving you to the verge of insanity? You did not have a single chance to complain, nor to initiate payback, as Hongjoong groaned and picked you up, manhandling you to the ground. Astonished, you stayed compliant.

The carpeted floor did not bring much comfort, the artificial fibre digging into your bare back, and the whiff of an amalgamation of industrial cleaner and something similar to puddle water made you scowl. A look to the side revealed a pencil, evidently forgotten by a student from one of the classes earlier that day, but was still better than facing Hongjoong's unreadable expression as he hovered above you. He appeared to be listening out for something, a suspicion confirmed when you were about to speak, and he pressed a hot finger against your lips, making you state yourself while simultaneously silencing you.

“Not. A. Single. Sound. You hear me?”

You merely nodded, unsure of how else to respond. Not when Hongjoong appeared so frustrated. Only once he rose up, pushing himself up using the table did you manage to pick apart the sound of conversation from outside of the hall. There appeared to be a group of students passing by, taking their sweet time. In an efficient manner, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his fingers. From your angle, though you could not exactly tell, but it appeared that the ghost of a smirk was dancing on his features. It did not take much deduction to figure out that he was enjoying the humiliating state you were in, your own horniness trapping you in a need to follow his orders.

As if to emphasize this, he picked the seat right above you to plant himself in, effectively masking you from view and leaving you quite literally at his feet. You noticed that Hongjoong had returned to his regular demeanour, calm and collected, unlocking his tablet for full effect, and behaving as though you were not there at all. As one final alteration to the scene, he tossed your belongings into your bag which was now right by your head and began to take some abstract notes. It was at that moment that you heard the foreign conversation get louder, and in a couple of seconds, the door being clicked open to reveal some unfamiliar faces.

After spotting Hongjoong seated in the very centre of the second row, looking very authoritative, aura occupying the entire room, they cowered back into the corridor, with just one of them remaining to prop the door open and call out to him.

“Sorry, is there something happening in this room?”

“Oh, sure is.” he uttered, pretending as though his focus on some incredibly important task was broken, and he was doing the group a favour by entertaining their pesky inquiries.

The attitude carried across effectively, as the student lowered his head sheepishly, but not enough to prevent them from raising their arm to motion towards the back of the hall and ask one final time:

“So, it’s fully booked? We can’t sit… like… up there?”

“Booked. And I am afraid you cannot.”

Waiting through this exchange was becoming unbearable, and each second was equivalent to an eternity amidst your arousal. Careful to not disturb the man above you, nor the items strewn across the floor, you gingerly moved your legs closer together, and inched your hand to your sensitive bud, seeking for more stimulation and what you deemed to be a well-deserved release. You did not realise just how sensitive you were, for as soon as you grazed the area, you practically let out a whimper, the only thing stopping you was you slamming a palm over your mouth on instinct. Trying to emulate Hongjoong’s motions, mind replaying the scenes from only a few minutes ago, you were easing yourself into self-gratification, abdominal muscles tightening. But this build-up did not last long either, as through your blurred vision, you noticed Hongjoong glowering at you, eyes turned daggers. Not long after, a new pressure found itself on the back of your hand and on your pelvis in the form of his lacquered moccasin. It was a raw, hateful move that degraded you to nothing but an object to be stepped on, but something about the forcefulness and intent made you desire for the charming, devious man to do it again.

“If you check out the department library there is normally some space. You aren’t in psychology, right?” he turned his attention back to the student across the room, ignoring your existence aside from a nudge for you to remove your hand from your still-dripping pussy, which you, albeit with hesitation, did.

“You are right, we do history, but our building’s packed so we ventured out.”

“Ah, then let me point you in the right direction.” He began to rise, making a show out of the inconvenience their intrusion was causing, exaggerating his body language; before he could fully stand up straight, however, the student stopped him and apologised profusely, settling for a couple of verbal pointers. You were astounded by Hongjoong’s ability to swiftly manipulate the environment and the people around him – equal parts dangerous and impeccably professional. He could make a home in anyone’s psyche, especially yours.

Once the disturbance had disappeared from the vicinity of the hall, Hongjoong rose from his seat and made his way swiftly to the door, slamming it shut; you remained still, mind hazy from the brush with almost being caught in your lecherous performance. You recognised the clicks that followed as him locking it, and a rustling as him rolling down the blind for the miniature built in window. There was no way you were going to be disturbed now. The world narrowed in, no longer escaping the boundaries of antiquity harboured in the theatre. Even the clock, still carrying out its duties, no longer held the same overbearing meaning.

“At any point in time, did I say that you could touch yourself without my permission? Or are you so filthy that you want to gather a crowd?” his question hung in the air, as he, seething, returned to the row. Raising your head slightly, you could now see just how turned on he was, with his erection almost threatening to burst out of his trousers, and a hint of discomfort on his face as he continued to storm down to you, stopping when his feet hit your boots. It was incredible how much restraint he had shown up until this point, but the temporary loss of control, and your light naughtiness was the final straw.

“Get the fuck over here.”

He roughly grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you to the front of the hall. He looked positively livid, but simultaneously, there was a burning desire within him to just have his way with you. The longer he kept at prolonging your lack of stimulation, the more agonising his arousal became until he could not take it anymore and needed you to take care of his problem. As he shoved you to centre stage, giving your ass a couple of well-placed smacks strong enough to leave redness, he began to unbuckle his belt.

When you stood in front of him, he caressed your cheek with one of his hands, only to switch it to a tight hold around your throat, so unexpected that you could not restrain a yelp. Pressing in his thumb until he could feel the contours of your larynx, he watched as you shuddered in pleasure at the change in treatment. You really were phenomenal.

“On your knees.” He pushed you down, letting go and dragging a finger up to your chin, and soon enough you were looking up at him, eyes glazed over with a fiery lust, spelling total submission.

“You have just been taking, and taking, and taking. That’s not quite fair, is it? And on top of that you are being so unbelievably naughty, that I am not sure what to do with you.”

“Forgive me, Sir, I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh yes, you did. You can’t control yourself. Need it all at once. I do not think I can let go of that too easily. You need to make it up to me.”

Dragging the belt out, he took a step closer to you, taking a deep breath in. In contrast to his spitting accusations, he very carefully moved your hair out of the way as he wrapped the belt around your throat, hooked it through and tightened it until it took on the appearance of a leash. He gave it a few tugs to check for your response, giving you a lewd grin once you nodded and mumbled the ever so sweet:

“Please.”

Dragging you until you were only centimetres away from his barely concealed member, he gestured for you to finish undressing his lower half. With a quick nod you rushed to unbutton and unzip the clothing.

“Convince me that I shouldn’t just leave you here like the desperate whore you are, since you are so self-determined.” You bit back a response, as you slid Hongjoong’s underwear down, and were more than pleased with the sight before you. Yes, you indeed were a whore for this man.

Taking the throbbing cock into one of your hands, you rubbed the ample amount of precum across its entire length, giving special attention to its base, which elicited a satisfied hiss from Hongjoong, and a lazy tug on the accessory around your neck. Understanding it as a silent command to hurry up, you leaned in and licked the tip, glancing up and batting your eyelashes as though you were the picture of innocence.

It drove Hongjoong wild, watching you as your mouth took over, with your tongue caressing the member up and down while you adjusted to his size. You had not even taken him in fully yet, and he was already concerned with just how desperate he was for more. Unable to sustain the leisurely pace which you had selected, he took a fistful of your hair with his free hand and tightened the belt with the other, yanking you back until just his tip was between your lips, to peer into your eyes. There you were, all pretty, jaw slackened to take him in, terrified that you had done something to wrong him any further. Hongjoong chuckled, high off the control he had, and in one swift motion shoved his length into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, making you choke momentarily and have tears spring to your eyes.

“Do you think your sorry attempts are eloquent enough? I need to see better than that.” He challenged between laboured breaths, holding you in place.

The contraction of your throat, every shudder from your body, and finally, the vibration you emitted when you hummed in understanding before beginning to bob your head back and forth were unbelievable, overriding any fantasy he had developed before experiencing the real you. The stark difference between the you – a diligent student, an attentive tutee, a young, classic lady, and the you – a sex-driven fiend, an adorably acquiescent star of his consciousness, a vixen hidden behind a supposedly pure image, was making the sight even more addictive.

“Aahh… fuuuck, baby girl…” he muttered as you aided yourself with your hands, one running over and massaging his balls, while the other remained at the base, providing a rhythmic, slow pump.

Instinctively, Hongjoong rolled his hips to further speed up the movement; this time you were ready to take it, mouth widening and tongue lapping at his delicious cock, now lubricated by your hot spit. Your eyelids were growing heavier as your own desire began to build once more. The moans that the man was trying to muffle so as to not lose his sanity to you while he throat fucked you were a haunting melody to your ears that you undoubtedly would be hearing for weeks on end. You needed to be good to him and coax out a crescendo, you did have forgiveness to beg for, didn’t you?

The heat inside your core was growing steadily, making you squeeze your kneeling legs together to provide at least some support. The action did not go unnoticed by Hongjoong who let out an airy chuckle and brushed some stray hairs out of your face.

“You really are such a slave to my dick, aren’t you? Eating it up… such a good cocksleeve…” the words inspired you to go faster, seeking for more praise to fall from your master’s lips. He gripped the belt for dear life, making the friction around your neck rise, along with sinful sounds coming with each pump as you started deepthroating him almost entirely on your own, his hand that was on the back of your head merely following along with your motions.

He could sense that he was getting close, the aching in his abdomen, tingling in his extremities turning his vision into a blurry mess that would unlikely be fixed even if he were to perch his lenses back onto his nose. But he was far from done with you, as much as he wanted to shoot strings of his cum into your oesophagus and watch you swallow it all like a good girl. Unwillingly he grabbed your locks again, and guided you away from him, nearly regretting it when he heard you whine. Like you were the one who was being pleasured. Truly, one of a kind. Breathless and pouting.

“Are you ready to deliver a presentation, baby girl?”

“What-” confused, you asked, but after being reminded by the choking of the belt, added “sir?”

“Tell me what fucking theory you follow,” he retorted, huffing, and made you get off the floor, “now, up, c’m’ere, pet.” Treating you every bit like an animal, he pulled on the makeshift leash and took you to the lectern, moving behind it and making you face the hall. Now that you were standing there did you realise just how vast the space was, how many ghosts of inquisitive eyes there were, one in each seat. How willing you were to put this show on and embed it into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Turn it into an altar of sin that you wanted to never leave.

“Bend over… that’s right, good girl.” He instructed you to lean forwards onto the wooden structure, and you automatically placed your hands on its edges. Spreading your legs, you enthusiastically gave Hongjoong access to your wet pussy, and sighed as he flipped your skirt up once again. Finally, you were about to get your fill.

You heard the crinkling of what could only be some kind of wrapper behind you, and glanced, curious. Hongjoong was in the process of rolling a condom over his rock hard member, shutting his eyes as he stimulated it. Smirking at you, he explained:

“See, I’ve been bringing these to all of our little meetings lately. There’s not enough time in the world to describe in just how many ways I want to ruin you, Y/N.” he chose to utter your name instead of the substitutes, voice dangerously low. He wanted you to remember this as a promise that he was not going to hold himself back anymore. Both of you wanted to live and fuck with no limits. You bit your lower lip, hiding a lustful grin.

“Show me an example, sir.”

That was enough for him to let go of the belt, leaving it to hit the lectern and dangle under you and take you roughly by the hips. Using one hand he positioned his cock right by your entrance, running it over your folds a couple of times, and without further hesitation pushed deep into you, bottoming out. Awestruck at how good you felt with your cunt clenched around him, he failed to stop a guttural groan from escaping him, which in turn made you respond with a few whimpers and a grinding of your backside, adding to his growing high. Slapping you back into submission, he pulled out fully, only to shove himself back in, revelling in the tightness of your walls.

“Don’t test me, sweetheart,” he warned barely present as he began to thrust with a slightly higher frequency, pressing himself flush against you every time.

You were barely remembering to breathe as Hongjoong’s pulsing cock was being pounded into you, stretching you out repeatedly. More on edge than ever before, you were feeling every touch, every graze, every exhale of his that could reach you. He was in a similar state, air knocked out of him as he rocked harder and harder into you until the temporary break after his prior build up was long gone. To curb the wave that was about to take over him, he bent closer to you. His clothing fell over your back as he teased your soaked pussy with his tip, it twitching from the contact. Missing the perfection that you offered, he could not keep up this game much longer, sliding his pulsating cock back between your soaked folds.

Beads of sweat were beginning to accumulate on Hongjoong’s forehead from the sheer heat of your bodies moving in tandem, your moans forming a harmony. The teasing was fanning the flames, the approach of your climax accelerating. He took the end of the belt again and tightened the collar-like hold it had on you, making your vision darken at the edges. Almost immediately he let go, intuitively knowing the limit of restriction. You adored the feeling of being his fuckdoll, existing as a vessel for the filthy noise your pussy was making as he continued to penetrate you. He moved a hand to your swollen clit to rub languid circles over it, and slammed his dick deeper into you, making you yelp at the heightened stimulation.

"Funny how autonomy is a basic need, and yet you are so willing to give it up for that same satisfaction. Are you that drunk off my cock that you lost rationality?

"Yes... Hong..joong... ah fuck! Sir!" You yelped when he suddenly bucked his hips upwards, delivering a particularly well aimed stroke that hit your g-spot.

As you gripped onto the lectern until your knuckles turned white, Hongjoong began to pick up his pace. He nudged one of your feet, a signal to spread wider, and placed one of his own on an elevated part of the platform, giving him a new angle, and fully unlocking the path to your orgasm. His touch was hot against your skin, with him continuing to abuse your overly sensitive bud, and the other surely leaving marks as he pressed his fingers into your waist.

“No more sirs, Y/N, aahhh shit, I want to- mfph, hear you scream my name. Yell who you belong to.” He commanded, going harder than ever. You tried to answer, but no sound came out of your mouth as you were enveloped in the ecstasy. He was immaculate, taking you apart how you had dreamt of him doing. Your arousal was unbearably close, and all you could think about was how Hongjoong’s cock was stuffing your sex, which was begging for release.

The knot in your stomach was about to burst; you followed the beautiful man’s demands and chanted his name like a mantra, fluctuating between barely audible and soaring to squeals at the top of your lungs, echoing right back at you and blending with Hongjoong’s carnal growls. He was catching up with you, his own desire starting to overflow. As your movements started to falter, he read you instantly, adjusting himself so that one arm was out to support you, while the other continued to help you in reaching that explosion of all senses. You grew completely silent as the awaited orgasm shook you, tightening all muscles, a knee-buckling attack, effectively immobilising you.

“Good girl, Y/N, come for me. Ah- you’re so damn beautiful.”

It was almost possible to count the constellations racing in your eyes from the overstimulation, which not even a forehead pressed onto the cool surface of the lectern could subdue. Your juices started to stream out of your overfilled pussy and treacle down your thighs. Hongjoong was entranced by how you were letting him enjoy you to the fullest, even after you have reached your peak. You were better than anything he could have hypothesised. You were his motivation.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m about to-” he mustered before it all hit him, and he pulled you into an embrace to prevent himself from shaking too violently, whispering ‘Y/N’.

Your aroma, the fucked out, glazed over haze written all over you was making him want to fall in love because shit, you were perfect. To reel himself back into reality he shifted his focus back to you, even though his member was still throbbing aggressively, hitting your leg as he side stepped away. He became ever so gentle, removing his belt from your throat and peppering kisses over your shoulders, your neck, your face. He retraced the love bruises he had left, now tenderly pecking each one.

“You’re so wonderful, you know that?” He mumbled into your ear, unsure if you could even register that he was speaking to you, but your soft hum proved otherwise. “Thank you, Y/N, my sweet,” planting a kiss on your cheek, and then turning you for another on your lips, he expressed his gratitude, and helped you down into a seated position at the base of the lectern when you stated you needed a moment to recover.

Your eyes followed Hongjoong’s form, as he waddled from the bin to dispose of the condom, to the box of tissues tucked away on a shelf by the door. While he cleaned himself up, and as soon as he was fully dressed, moved to wipe away your release, you pondered how this all unfolded. You had been incredibly silly to think he did not want you, that was certain. Even now, on a post-coital high he was taking care of you diligently, moving away only to rush to take your clothes from where you had thrown them. He was treating you like the most fragile, precious being on this earth, a total contrast to a few minutes ago.

The clock, abandoned by its previously dedicated followers, was still ticking away but you and Hongjoong did the impossible, and remained in your shared hour. That was all either of you wanted, and felt you needed. Your breathing levelled out, and you leaned back, letting both your hands drop to either side of you. Hongjoong joined you, and cautiously took one of them, intertwining your fingers together. In a soothing pattern he ran a thumb over the back.

“Thank you.” You finally managed, to which Hongjoong beamed, and squeezed your digits.

You sat together in silence, sinking into the dimming surroundings, at ease, blissful.

“So… same time next week?” you wiggled your eyebrows and chuckled.

“Let me take you out for dinner first, say tonight?”

“I’d love that… but, so soon?”

“Perhaps, but you motivate me.”

[soulless-computerbug]

The process of claiming and branding proxies can be grueling. Each Ender does it differently, but the series of steps all have the same purpose. Take, mark, manipulate, and own body and soul.

The most benevolent Enders try to not fall back on creating such bonds. Splendor just hires people to help him with his needs, counselors, caretakers, and teachers to help the children that wind up in his orphanage. Because of his particular diet, its in his best interest to keep the people around him as happy as possible. That, and he genuinely just doesn't like seeing people unhappy or unwell. He has only a couple claimed proxies, a pediatrician and two of his oldest children that had stayed with him to be caretakers.

Slender, or the Administrator, is nearly an opposite. He feeds off of pain and misery, and thus his proxies are always walking a wire with him. His best and most reliable live an easier life, but not a stress-free one. Keeping them on edge keeps them from thinking of escape plans, keeps them subserviant to his wrath when he needs them straightened out.

Claiming a proxy can happen even before the person has seen or had noticable contact with the Ender. Enders can reach out telepathically, and often do when searching for new fodder to easily find those that can be molded easier to their needs. Once the human is chosen, they are watched. Followed. Stalked for as long as they need. Theyre under tight observation and pressure, to both begin the process and further judge them for the role. This process can last anywhere from a few months, to several years, and the Ender may even subject the chosen to different tasks or experiences to further test and judge them. By this stage, the chosen usually knows theyre being appraised, or at least assumed to be hunted.

Once the Ender is satisfied with its decision, it will often ghost the proxy away to its territory and begin the process of claiming them. Usually this is the most physical process, as claiming or "branding" a proxy needs to leave a mark on their body, and a psychological impression on their mind. The process will always involve some discomfort, but good masters will normally try to neutralize that discomfort as much as possible. Others push it further, to force their proxy into submission. Once claimed, the proxy is connected to their master in mind, and owned in body. But most masters will continue to push their way into their proxy's psyche, to fully break them into their new role.

[yukikogazingthestars]

**Fukuzawa and Mori with a S/O who is a bibliophile**

Fukuzawa

-He may look like someone who doesn't read since his job as a president of ADA is too busy.But, he is a hardcore reader who loves to sit quietly ,read a book and enjoy the story for a long time.

-Their first encounter is at a local book festival.

-He saw her while she was trying to grab a book on a shelf. He helped her take the book and they became friends after they roamed the festival with hands full of books.

-Their Relationship had grown rapidly since they shared the same hobby.

-Due to his overloaded job, he couldn't read as much as his S/O who was opening a small bookshop.

-His S/O loves to share about the books she read with Fukuzawa. She talked to him about the plots, the characters and it made Fukuzawa's heart melt.

-Well, he may not know what books she is talking about or what characters she admire but he can tell she really enjoys it and that's all that matters.

-Although Fukuzawa wished to buy every book his S/O named, he wouldn't let her spend a lot of money on limited Editions which were cloth-bound or had beautiful covers.

-Both Fukuzawa and his S/O are harsh critics so they will blame some of the cheap plots or overrated books harshly 🤣

-I think his favorite genre is Nonfiction while His S/O least favorite genre is Non-fiction.

-At weekends or holidays, Fukuzawa sat comfortably and quietly on the couch or tatami mat and his S/O lay on his lap while they both read their favorite book.

-They might not exchange words but from the warmth from skinship and books, they would l feel peace and tranquility.

-If only Fukuzawa had a holiday, he would go to his S/O bookshop and help her with the shop. He would even invite ADA members or his old friends to her shop and introduce her to them.

Mori

Mori actually doesn't read much and his favorite genres are nonfiction about game theory or psychology.

He used reading as a form of relaxing his burnout brain to absorb more knowledge and to make more strategies.

Their first encounter was in a cafe where his s/o was reading a book peacefully until He and Elise made a fuss in the cafe.Although S/O was really annoyed by loud noises , she would gladly help him to calm down Elise.

Their relationship didn't grow rapidly due to their different mindset for books and reading.

But, eventually they both fell in love. (Hey, Mori has a lot of ways to make a person fall in love with him although he didn't read romance novels)

Despite his low interest in fiction or literature, he gladly watched his S/O reading the books he had bought happily.

He would even ask his s/o to tell about the books she was reading and even encourage her to describe their thoughts and opinions on those books.

I have a feeling that his S/O will make a book blog where she will upload book reviews and opinions after Mori’s encouragement.

His S/O didn't own a shop but he would spoil her to buy every book she wanted whether it's limited edition sets or cloth bound or fore-edge painting. He just didn't care about money . All he cares about is his S/O smile and happiness.

Elise loved her so much because she told a lot of stories and read children’s books for her.

Mori would make a lot of drama about how his S/O didn't pay attention to him and only read books. Elise will scold and ask him not to annoy her reading time.

At the times when he is free from his work,Mori would lean or cuddle his S/O who was reading while one hand of her is playing with Mori’s hair or scarf.

Mori didn't like books as much as his S/O did, but he will gladly give all his time, money and energy for her enthusiasm in books.

[g0ldenboi333]

spicy take time: Ace Attorney 5 is not THAT bad

Dual Destinies: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly -- An Opinionated Review (not spoiler free, hehe)

As I was progressing through the series, I noticed that fans really seemed to dislike Dual Destinies, so as I finished Apollo Justice, I was worried about what I was going to come across and, it wasn't terrible. I've begun to replay some of the game and compile some thoughts.

The Good

Characters

Whether it be the complicated, the quirky, or the downright enjoyable to be around, Dual Destinies has all sorts of new characters to fit this bill. Some of my favorites include:

Athena Cykes -- The newbie lawyer with a loud and colorful personality and a neat little game mechanic involving her being able to hear emotions Simon Blackquill -- The prosecutor on death row who's very… persuasive (why does he get to have a sword?) "Bobby Fulbright" -- The game's eccentric detective. While he's no Dick Gumshoe or Emma Skye, he actually managed to grow on me, making the twist that the final antagonist was disguised as him the entire time all the more impactful to me.

Some other characters that I really enjoyed: Juniper Woods Jinxie Tenma Aura Blackquill Orla Shipley (the orca)

And some of my favorite puns, for fun: Candice Arme Robin Newman Sasha Buckler

The Introductory Case

Case 5-1 is one of my favorite introductory cases after 2-1, AAI2-1, and TGAA1-1. Its twists and turns had me on edge the entire time. I've seen some crazy shit in Ace Attorney -- exorcisms, cross-examining animals, children that are victims of murder attempts -- but a terrorist bombing was not something I would expect, weirdly enough.

I also think it's fascinating how it's the only intro case to span over multiple days and the second to chronologically take place after the main filler cases (after AAI1-1).

And I really like how it ends by leaving these two questions in the back of my mind: "What's wrong with Apollo?" "Who exactly is Athena?"

Prosecutor Blackquill

Out of all of the prosecutors in the series, Blackquill has one of my favorite concepts. The idea of a prosecutor being able to continue his job while awaiting the death sentence for a crime he did not commit, but rather, took the fall for is just soooo… AAAAAAA. I love it. How he also utilizes psychological mind games opposite to Athena's own.

I was originally terrified of Blackquill and his unique "Silence!" callout, but as case 5 progressed, I actually almost cried learning Simon's true colors. How he willingly went to prison to protect a young Athena and Athena's mother, Metis', work, refusing to accept help despite Athena's and Aura, his older sister's, pleas. He was genuinely willing to be executed for the sake of protecting Athena.

Athena and Apollo's relationship, Apollo's Skepticism, and Athena's Trauma

Throughout the course of cases 2 and 3, it was demonstrated how Apollo and Athena grew to trust each other. To me, they gave off sibling energy, which was made even better by the fact that, in Greek mythology, Apollo and Athena are siblings (half-siblings, but siblings nonetheless).

So when Apollo started feeling skeptical towards Athena regarding the whole Clay situation, it kinda hurt, Apollo even willingly wearing a bandage over his eye to prevent himself from perceiving Athena's suspicious ticks. (I love this concept and wish more could have been done it.) And Athena had a past of her own that wasn't helping the situation that she herself wasn't even sure of, traumatized by the idea that she might have killed her own mother.

This is what I would say to be Dual Destinies' strongest feature.

The Phantom

Like I've mentioned before, the twist of "Fulbright" being the final antagonist really got to me. And his whole breakdown with him being in a mad panic, questioning who he really was before getting sniped, has to be one of my favorite breakdowns in the entire series (second to the exorcism)

Turnabout Reclaimed

The concept behind this DLC case is a fascinating one. The defendant being an… uhm… orca and the murder being an accident makes this case really unique.

3D Models

While the models take a bit to get used to, I think, ultimately, they weren't a terrible idea. I love the sprites but there are some things that the models did that the sprites couldn't -- and vice versa. And I believe it was a great gateway into what we got with The Great Ace Attorney and Spirit of Justice.

The Bad

Phoenix's Role

I have problems with Phoenix in this game in general. His model, his voice, but overall, I think the biggest downside about him in this game is his role. How him losing his badge was basically ctrl-z'ed and he's back to basically steal the spotlight. His role in Apollo Justice was great. He was there, but not on the front lines, helping Apollo from the side. I was hoping that, with the introduction of Athena, she'd get help from him like Apollo from Kristoph in his own game or Phoenix from Mia in the first game, rather than being essentially sidelined herself.

Yes. Dual Destinies is a Phoenix Wright game, but with how much focus it gives to Apollo and Athena and their… Dual Destinies… it's a bit frustrating with him in the picture as much as he is.

Turnabout Academy

I don't believe in the "3rd Case Syndrome" that goes around in the fanbase (4-3, 6-3, AAI2-3, and TGAA2-3 were pretty good). However… replaying Dual Destinies, I can't bring myself to replay this case. The concept was okay, but, that's all I can really say. The characters were… eh? I like Junie, Robin, and Mirriam, but Hugh is insufferable and what they did with Klavier was… (I don't wanna be harsh but)… ew. How Robin was treated before revealing she was a girl, was kind of gross (in the initial 2013 release). Overall, it was an… okay case. I don't really have much else to say about this case other than I didn't really enjoy it.

Turnabout Reclaimed

I love the concept, but that's about it. I had a bit of trouble staying awake while playing this one. It felt a little reminiscent of 1-5, which best sums up my feelings about it. The characters were okay and the idea is great, but this case is just… there.

The Ugly

Main Menu

That menu is boring. There's nothing... here. At least previous releases had the gall to put an image in the background, whether it be a courtroom or silhouettes of the main characters. I can't tell if that's supposed to be a bulletin board or a closeup of a basketball, but it's likely neither of those are right.

Voices

I understand replacing the older VA's because of cutscenes and all that, and I'm okay with Apollo's new voice, but when it comes to the other characters with NEW voices, they kind of miss the mark. Apollo and Phoenix sound virtually identical, Klavier sounds… wrong, and I don't think anyone told Edgeworth's VA that he's only 34 because he sounds twice that.

3D Models

When it comes to characters being translated into 3D, that's where the models miss. Apollo's, and Klavier's models are … not the best and Phoenix's is actually disgusting. They got a much-needed update with Spirit of Justice, but they don't compare to the beauty of their sprites.

-----

Overall, I personally think that Dual Destinies is one of the weakest in the series, but it's not as bad as everyone makes it out to be. It's different and takes a bit to get used to, but it's fun :)

[dewdewick]

Shadows in the dust | Chapter 2

Pairing/s: Finnick Odair x fem reader

Summary: At the age of 18 you thought you’d soon be free of the hunger games, unfortunately fate has a different plan. You are picked as a tribute for district 2 and thrust into capitol life.

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Trust issues, Death, Torture, Mental illnesses, manipulation tactics, Weapons, Swearing, Canon typical violence, Mentions of psychological distress, Use of Y/N, Fem reader, descriptions of clothing reader wears, explicit descriptions of weapon use, poison use

A/N: Thanks for waiting so long! This chapter was a bit tricky but I’m finally happy with how it’s turned out. My ask box is open if anyone has any suggestions or requests while I work on the next chapter.

Word count: 5.4K

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Dark.

All she can see is dark.

Her hands come up in front of her, feeling for her surroundings. Nothing can be found, all she can perceive is the immense blackness surrounding her. All at once the world explodes into color, white light invading her senses and making her eyes burn. Colors assault her eyes, stinging alongside the bright light.

She squints, first looking at her hands. Crimson covers her from fingers to elbows, thick and sticky. The smell of iron hits her nose, making her mouth taste metallic. She takes in a sharp breath, the sight making her stumble back. She trips over a blunt object, falling back onto the ground.

She is met with the face of her sister, face pale with cloudy eyes. Blood splattered across her once warm body, lying cold on the white tile. She chokes out a strangled noise, trying her best to crawl her way backwards but stops suddenly as she comes into contact with a slimy substance. Her head whips around, her hand lying in a mix of vomit and coagulated blood. The smell of bile mixes with iron, a sweet scent of death in the air.

Her brother's body lies behind her, a broken neck with those same white eyes staring at her. strangulation marks on his neck and stab wounds littering his torso. She screams, her own voice only further startling her and sending her into the clutches of panic.

A voice loudly shouts to her, she immediately recognizes it as her mother. “Male and Female, only one can remain”

Both her siblings sit up at that moment, screaming simultaneously in pain in sorrow at the utterance of the words. Her mother wails in union with her two children, screaming the same words over and over again. In the distance she sees the woman, rushing towards them in the empty white space. She too is pale and covered with blood, a gaping hole in her stomach.

“ONLY ONE” She shrieks as she finally reaches her living daughter.

Y/N sits up in bed, screaming in horror. She hugs herself with her knees pulled up to her chest and her body erupting in shakes. Tears stream down her cheeks as she sobs into the darkness. “What in the hell was that?!” She manages to think to herself.

An Avox woman opens the door, poking her head in and staring at the panic stricken girl. Quiet as a mouse before then she retreats as suddenly as she had arrived, the door closing behind her. Y/N lets her head rest on her knees as she tries to mentally recover from the horrific nightmare.

A moment later a knock raps on her door, causing her to tense. “‘M fine! Just a nightmare!” She calls out with a shaking voice. The door opens anyway, Finch peeking in with tired eyes and a bed head that could rival the best. “Heard you next door” He explains “you ok? Wanna talk?” He asks, stepping into the room a bit more.

She can only let out a shuddering breath, giving him a shrug. “I don’t know-“ she gets out, cutting herself off with a sharp intake of breath. Finch frowns, walking over to the large bed and sitting on the edge, grabbing the familiar green book from her nightstand. “How about we just try this hm?” He asks gently, moving to sit next to her. He sets an arm around her back in case she wants comfort, and starts to read.

“Chia sage or (Salvia Columbariae) are seeds collected from the spikey, dried seed heads of the aforementioned plant. They are incredibly nutritious and eaten in addition to large meals or as a snack for short term energy.” He speaks softly, looking over at her every other paragraph to try and glimpse her face.

She peeks up at him with teary eyes, doing her best to listen to his words. She tries to take deep breaths, hiccuping every other inhale. His eyes return to the page as he reads more, daring to bring his hand down to rest on her shoulder.

“Certain plants can help lead to water, most can’t grow without a source nearby. These include Willows (Salix spp.) cottonwoods (populus fremontii and other populus spp.) and desert fan palm (Washingtonia filifera).” He reads, nodding along to the book as he runs his thumb along her shoulder.

“Saguaro cacti can also have water in them, and food too.” She remembers quietly, another hiccup escaping her lips. He only smiles, continuing to read as she slowly leans into him.

“Juniper (Juniperus spp.) is a small group of evergreens that can produce wood and fiber for fire. The bushes can also produce wood for hunting bows and a distinct smell to hide one from prey. There are over 45 different types of juniper, all juniper berries containing a powerful oil (Thujone.) These oils can cause upset stomach, diarrhea, and kidney damage when ingested in large amounts. The safest berry to eat is from the most common variety of the bush, (Juniperus communis) and is used to make Gin, medicine and flavor food.”

Her head hits his chest as he continues to read, his breaths and vibrations of his voice quickly lulling her to a tired state. He only continues to read, his body settling deeper into the bed as his arm tightens around the girl. He can't help but melt as the girl cuddles up to him. It’s not long before she falls asleep on his chest, and he follows soon after.

Only a few hours later the two are awoken by the sudden and loud explosion of knocking on the door, Furisha calling them for breakfast. “Training day 2 my lovelies! You mustn’t be late!” She calls into the room, the groggy teens all but groaning at her words.

Y/N sits up first, stretching until her back releases a satisfying popping noise. “Weak” Finch laughs to himself, twisting his body until his spine cracks loudly. She only laughs tiredly, calling him gross and putting a pair of slippers on her feet.

The tributes walk out to breakfast, no longer caring about appearances at that meal. Each was served the hot chocolate they had come to expect, along with an assortment of other delicacies. Y/N picked at her breakfast while Finch devoured everything he could. Their mentors didn’t seem to have much to say at that particular meal, a few comments thrown in for sure but as usual most talking was done by Furisha.

The day was once again gruesome, A few fights breaking out between tributes over puny things like weapons or fire making. The female tribute Dutchess from district 1 continued to glare at Y/N throughout the day, especially hating when her partner Ammo chatted with the girl. Y/N tried to ignore the glares but found it a bit harder as a few more tributes joined in. The girl from district 5 didn’t seem to like her or Finch much either, along with both the tributes from 12.

Tension was high by the end of the day, the tributes all returning to their quarters to eat a quick dinner and prepare for bed. Gamemaker scoring was the next day, and everyone was either much too cocky or terrified.

Dinner consisted of a few roast birds, mostly Turkey, duck and chicken with a few rarities thrown in the mix. Y/N ate white meat Turkey with multicolored caramelized carrots and a dollop of potatoes swirled with orange and white. The dish was served with a dark thick gravy and a sweet red sauce. She ate greedily after the day she had experienced.

After dinner was halfway over Enobaria finally spoke, “So what will you two be doing for your scoring?” She inquired, taking a sip of her red wine. Finch smiled, taking the opportunity to gush about his swordsmanship and ability to throw knives. He had been trained most of his life after all, he had a right to be confident.

Y/N on the other hand bit her lip, she had no idea what to do. What skills did she even have? Maybe show a climbing skill? Or how fast could she run? There wasn’t much of a chance of her getting a great score. “And I’m…deciding?” She said uneasily, giving an uncomfortable smile to the table.

“You have a few skills, it’s just hard to decide what to pick since none can be combined.” Brutus said, taking a bite of a large Turkey leg. Enobaria agreed, “we need to figure out your absolute best skill and market that. Maybe flow with that little princess image Aerith seems to be curating for you.” She said with an almost teasing smile.

Y/N frowned a bit, she hated the portrait that was being painted over her. She wanted to be herself in her last days, not an object for everyone to fawn over. “You’ll do great.” Finch said from next to her, patting her shoulder. Furisha agreed with him quickly, “The doe eyed look can get you some amazing sponsors too! I’ve seen it work plenty.” She mentioned with a bright grin and nod of the head.

That might’ve been the first helpful thing Furisha had said to her, but nevermind that. She had to think of her best skill, a marketable skill. Y/N poked at her dinner as the conversation went on around her. She continued deep in thought as she went to shower and go to bed.

The next morning it came to her, like a message from an oracle. Plants, she was amazing at sorting plants. She could show the game makers her skills with sorting, kindling, edible and poisonous plants. That could be a bit of a salvation when it came to numbers.

She hopped out of bed and put her training suit back on, doing her hair and brushing her teeth before rushing to breakfast to discuss options with her mentors.

The breakfast table was empty as she approached, snatching a cup and downing a glass of juice quickly. She anxiously sat on a couch by the window as she waited for her current companions to arrive. She didn’t have to wait long before footsteps came down the hall, Enobaria walking around the corner.

Y/N perked up, a slight smile on her face. She was excited to share the tiny triumph with her mentor for some reason. “Good morning” she spoke, looking up at the woman who gave a tired smile in response. “I figured out what I can do for the game makers” she blurted out, moving to sit on the edge of her seat.

“You did huh?” Enobaria questioned, pouring a cup of coffee for herself with a raised brow. Y/N nodded, “I’m good with plants, I think I can separate what’s edible from poison.” She revealed a proud smile on her face. Enobaria took a long sip of her coffee, sighing as she looked at the young woman. “You have to do more than that, the games have been going on for a long time and they’ve seen kids exactly like you time and time again.” She explained.

Y/n's brows furrowed a bit as she continued to speak, “You need to really wow the game makers, show them how lethal you can be.” She said, taking another sip of coffee. Y/N frowned at the suggestion “I have no idea what I’m doing, how am I supposed to be lethal if I don’t even want to kill?” She asked, frustrated at the apparent lack of options.

Enobaria looked at her pointedly “You aren't weak and you aren't stupid, you can force yourself to think of it as something other than murder. Think of it as a creation of opportunity rather than the death of a human, it's a way to see your family.” She advised, a hard look on her face. The thought made her sick but she knew to stay alive for more than 10 minutes in the arena she would have to accept the truth of her fate. “Womanhood is survival and you don't have to be particularly strong to do it, you just have to be persistent and when the situation calls for it you need to have venom.”

Y/N unfortunately understood what she was being told, she nodded along as her mentor spoke. She took a sip of her hot chocolate and thought for a moment on the words. “What about poison? I bet I could make something with all the stuff they give us” she thought aloud. Enobaria smiled, all sharp teeth. “That's a start, but we can build on it.” she said, sitting forward in her seat.

The women talked for a few more minutes, strategizing on the best plants and animals for making deathly concoctions. Brutus joined in after a while and gave his thoughts and suggestions, he thought she should rely more on physical strength but Enobaria disagreed. Finch came to breakfast after a few more minutes and as usual most attention was on him, he had a natural charming air about him.

Their breakfast seemed unusual that morning, a mix of fish and rice. Y/N assumed the dishes were common in the fishing districts like 4 or 5, making her mind drift for just a second to that bronze haired mentor with the charming smile and the dimples that could just make her scream. The fish was served with a savory soup, white rice, eggs and sausages. She liked it much more than she thought, the fish was fresh and didnt have too much of a scent and the soup had a certain calming factor with a slight ginger flavor at the end. Finch seemed to enjoy the spicy sauce that was provided, taking a green paste and slathering his fish in the substance.

Breakfast was short but filling, the meal ending with furisha pestering them to get a move on to keep with the day's schedule. The morning seemed to go by quickly as well, Y/N spending most of her time on learning to make fire and studying the plants that were provided. Finch urged her to study with the weapons a bit but her mind was otherwise occupied and she only did a bit of training with the instructors.

By the time lunch had come along she was buzzing with both nervousness and excitement. She ate a simple lunch of sliced meat, cheese and a few pieces of fruit. She felt she could throw up with the amount of excitement bubbling up in her chest. Finally she and the rest of the tributes were led to a large holding room with small numbered benches.She followed Finch and sat on the number 2 bench, directly behind the tributes from district 1. Duchess looked over her shoulder, giving her a displeased tight smile, turning back to her partner and whispering. Y/N chewed her lip, wringing her hands a bit in nervousness.

Finch leaned down to her ear “it's all gonna be ok, they just wanna know what you can do.” he spoke gently. He had turned out to be so much more soft than she imagined, she honestly wondered if he had any bad qualities at all. She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder “Just nervous is all” she muttered. He leaned back into her, warmth radiating off his form. “Surprisingly I'm not, I mean this is what I trained for.” He shrugged lightly. “So you'll be showing your sword and knife skills?” she wondered, glancing up at him. “Most likely, unless I figure out something better in the next 10 minutes,” he joked.

A male voice spoke over the intercom, “Ammo Montgomery, District 1, please report for individual assessment.” Ammo stood up in front of them, patting his companion on the back and heading for the steel gate that opened at the end of the room. How nerve wracking it must've been to go first, to warm up the judges of the group's fate for 23 other people.

Time once again seemed to pass quickly with Dutchess called soon after. Finch did his best to distract Y/N as they waited, telling her a story of how his little sister and the family cat had given him a scar on his wrist. She softly laughed along to the story before once again being interrupted by the voice on the speaker.

“Finch Glenn, District 2, please report for individual assessment” the man said in a monotone voice. She cringed and looked at him, “wish me luck” he said as he stood “ you'll do great too I know it” He encouraged her as he patted her head as he started towards the steel gate. She watched him disappear into what looked like a dark hallway and sat uncomfortably alone. Her eyes searched the group around her and she caught the eye of the girl from district 8, who smiled, the young girl seemed to be nervous as well.

Minutes passed and she felt stuck in her own head, the room was bare with no distractions and it made her feel even more uneasy as she picked at her fingers. Finally her name was called over the intercom as those before her. She stood and looked at the steel gate, making her way over to it quickly.

She made her way down the darkened hallway cautiously, stepping into the light of the empty gymnasium she had trained in earlier that day. She looked up to the skybox where the gamemakers sat, watching her every move. Walking to the center of the room in front of her small audience she stopped, waiting for them to address her in some way. “You have 10 minutes to present your chosen skill.” a man near the center said with a wave of his hand.

“Um Thank you” she said awkwardly, not quite sure what to say to the group of powerful people. She turned to look over the room, spotting a table full of potted plants. That looked like the best place to start, she supposed. Taking stock of the herbs and foliage she noticed quickly that a certain fruit was among them. A Nightchineel was a mix of two extremely deadly plants being Nightlock berries and a Manchineel apple. The fruit constricted the diaphragm muscles, stopping any breathing and setting the nervous system on fire. It also burned the skin badly at one touch of the leaves or juice.

She smiled and took a towel, picking up the fruit and bringing it to a workstation the gamemakers could see. She slipped on a pair of gloves, cutting the fruit and mashing it. She then added a mix of nettles. Ivy, and elderberries to the mix, making a green speckled purple paste. She hollowed out a mango next, careful as possible to avoid breaking the skin and funneled the thick mixture inside.

She stepped up to a test dummy, the ones in the capitol were specifically designed to imitate what a human would do when injured, poisoned or killed. The gamemakers thought it would help give tributes better statistics going into games. She stood back and threw the mango at the dummy, hitting it square in the face. The data showed on a screen next to her, the poison burned the skin and eyes badly. The monitor showed a victim would be disoriented, swollen and have lesions on the skin, if they ingested the liquid the only possible fate would be death.

She looked up to the faces of the gamemakers, hopeful she made an impression. Most remained stoic but she received a few nods from the group at her work. “Thank you” she said once more, awkwardly looking between her observers and the door. “ Is it- am I allowed to go now?” she asked, not wanting to disobey or disrespect the people who held her fate in their hands. One of the men held an open hand towards the door with a nod, signaling it was ok to leave.

She was led by a peacekeeper out of the gymnasium to the arms of her mentors, Furisha and the one she wanted to see most, Finch. He smiled as they saw each other, scooping her up in a friendly hug. “You did it, told you!” he said happily. The hug surprised her and her arms automatically flew around him. She wondered why he seemed to care so much, yes they had known each other as children but he had no real attachment to her after the age of 10. She sank into the hug anyway, his warmth comforting after the anxiety of the presentation.

Furisha looked as if she was about to make a comment but was quickly shut down by a look from Enobaria. The two tributes hugged each other for a moment longer, her face buried in his chest and his cheek resting her head.

They broke away and he held her hand in his own, she looked up at him and he smiled again. Enobaria finally spoke, “Leys get back and get you guys changed, you get to have the night and morning off.” She said with a small smile of her own. Y/N was excited to rest, the days of training had been stressful and she knew she needed a bit of time to lounge before the exhaustion of the games.

The group returned to their quarters and parted ways. Y/N peeled off her training suit, flinging it onto her freshly made bed. She sighed at the small feeling of freedom, rolling her shoulders back and cracking her neck. She opted to throw on a loose grey shirt with a hood attached, stretchy black pants and socks. The outfit was boring compared to some of her previous choices but extremely comfortable.

She walked out to the bookshelves, choosing a book on bugs. She sat on the couch nearby and tucked her legs underneath her, cracking open the red cover. A few pictures littered the pages, anatomical diagrams mostly. The smell of the old paper soothed her and the quiet felt calm.

She read about Arachnids first, the eight legged critters had always made her a bit uncomfortable. She hoped they weren’t too big a part of the games, and if they were she hoped she didn’t encounter them. She heard brutus enter the room, going to rummage about the kitchen before dinner. She kept reading as Enobaria and Furisha entered the room, gossiping about some socialite she didn’t care to remember the name of.

Finch flopped on the couch next to her at some point, turning the television to some channel that talked of betting on the games. He sprawled out with his head laid close to her lap, he doodled in a notebook idly. His need to be close to her was interesting, she didn’t understand it.

Maybe he felt connected because of their shared fate? She thought about it as she stared at the words in her book. He had always been extremely popular in school and around town, his handsome face and kind disposition certainly not hindering the fact. She on the other hand was just a face in the crowd, she had friends yes but people didn’t wave to her on the street like they did for him.

What made her so interesting to him? And was it just friendly interest? Or did he have something more in mind? Was she overthinking or was spark she felt real? She chewed her lip unconsciously, so many questions and possibilities swimming in her head.

“You ok? You’ve been staring at that paragraph and picture of a spider for like…5 minutes now.” Finch asked, interrupting her self interrogation. She blinked rapidly, snapping out of her trance and looking over to him. He looked up at her from his sprawled out position next to her. She nodded, his long lashes and sweet concerned look making a few butterflies flutter around her chest.

“Just got lost in thoughts” she muttered, her eyes meeting his. He suddenly moved upwards and laid his head on her lap, “what about?” He asked. She flushed a bit at the sudden contact “you” she blurred out unintentionally. He smirked and she quickly tried to fix her mistake, “you know like our alliance and how well we do in the arena” she laughed nervously.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night honey” he teased, causing her blush to deepen. She doubled down on her excuses “I mean it! I was thinking about how we could watch each other's backs!” She said defensively. He only smirked, picking her sketchbook back up and running his pencil over the paper again.

She watched the lines he sketched and quickly realized he was drawing her. It wasn’t amazing but it was certainly beautiful in its own way. He drew her the way she looked back home, hair undone and always covered in a light sheen of dust. She smiled at the drawing and gently let her fingers pet his curls. He leaned back into her hand as she did, her nails Scratching along his scalp.

“I wish we could stay like this” he muttered “comfortable and well fed and had time to draw or read when we wanted.” His eyes shifted up once more to meet hers, a soft look in his eye.”Me too” she said with a sad smile, tangling her fingers in his fluffy locks.

He sighed with contentment “You think it’ll be one of us that wins?” He asked. “I hope so” she replied “or that little girl from 8 maybe” she smiled softly and he let out a small chuckle at her optimism. “That’s a sweet thought” he commented, but they both knew the sickening truth deep down.

“I hope it's quick when I go, nothing too painful or drawn out y'know?” she said, setting her book down next to her and focusing both hands in his hair. He nodded, making a sound of agreement “yeah an arrow to the temple would be my first choice.” he said sarcastically. she laughed with a breath through her nose. “Maybe just step off the platform early?” she joked. He offered a small smile, “you and I both know i'll protect you as long as I can sugar” he said looking into her eyes again. “Why though?” she asked, still confused by his fascination with her. He reached a hand up, moving a piece of her hair. “Because you've always been kind to me, even when I didn't deserve it.” He said softly.

“You've always deserved it” she said truthfully, confused by his statement. He simply shook his head, “when I started at the academy I turned into a real jerk for a while, I ignored anyone who didn't offer me some advantage for years but you always just smiled and said hello like normal.” He said with a guilty look on his face. She only laughed softly again, “I just assumed you were busy, and we drifted apart. You were 10 years old, I never thought you were being a jerk.” she smiled, her fingers massaging his scalp.

“And that's why I’ll protect you” he nodded “because after all of that you never stopped being my friend.” The statement made her want to melt, he really was such a softie. She nudged him to sit up and he did, looking at her with a questioning expression. She slowly wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. ‘Thanks,” she whispered “it's nice to have a friend.”

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his head into the crook of her neck, “You smell like summertime.” he said softly and she giggled, “They have peach soap in my shower” she explained. He made a noise of contentment and continued to hug her, “can we stay like this? Just for a minute?” he asked. She simply nodded her head, weaving her fingers through his hair once more. His love language was definitely physical touch, it was just yet another thing she found endearing about him. Her eyes closed and she rested her head atop his, he was so warm and her mind felt fuzzy and relaxed.

After what felt like a few seconds she felt knuckles running over her cheek gently, her eyes opened groggily and she looked around a bit disoriented. Finch held her in his arms, “time to wake up sugar.” he murmured, that slight drawl in his words. “Hmm” she nodded, sitting up and taking her head off his chest. Their mentors and stylists sat on a few couches around them, “welcome back sleeping beauty” , Brutus commented, motioning to the screen in front of them. “It's time for training scores, then dinner ok?” enobaria said, motioning the young women to come sit by her.

Y/N nodded and moved away from Finch to sit by her mentor, sitting straight on the couch and watching Caesar Flickerman prance around the stage she herself would soon be on.”Good evening Panem! Happy Hunger games!” the excitable host began. The crowd cheered for him and he smiled with too white teeth, his hair and eyebrows a shade of pink that resembled plum blossoms. “Why don't we get started with district 1? What do you think?” he asked the crowd, walking over to a desk on the stage. He picked up a stack of cards as he sat and smiled at the crowd once more.

“First on our list, Ammo Montgomery from District 1.” he read off the card, pausing afterwards for dramatic effect. “A score of 10” He grinned as the crowd went wild. “And his counterpart Dutchess Astor, with a score of 9” he continued. The crowd screamed just as they had at the parade, loud and much too heavy on the dramatics. Fans of the tributes from district 1 fanned themselves like they wanted to faint and a few dedicated Actors even pretended to tear up.

Caesar grinned and moved to the next card in the stack “Next is a couple that needs no introduction, our tributes from district 2.” He spoke eyes darting up to the camera. Y/N grabbed Enobaria's hand, suddenly feeling a bit nauseous, Enobaria looked surprised but held her tribute’s hand tightly. “Finch Glenn also with a score of 10” Caesar announced “strong competition from the career districts this year” he commented, wiggling his eyebrows. Furisha let out a small happy shriek at the words, putting a hand on Finch's shoulder and shaking him lightly. Brutus gave a nod of approval and his stylist Hebe gave him a side hug.

“And his lovely counterpart Miss Y/N L/N with a score of 7” The words sent a shiver down her spine and she looked to her mentors. “That's good’ we can work with that” Enobaria assured and Furisha clapped for them. “Oh I am so proud of you both!” she cheered, a genuine smile on her face.Y/N felt happy to at least get an average score, nothing that could put a target on her back. Finch would definitely need to be wary of the other tributes with a high score like that.

The other tributes in the lineup received scores similar to hers, most were given a range of 6 to 8, with the small boy from district 9 receiving a 5 and the girl from 8 getting the same. Her shoulders relaxed a bit when she realized she had done a perfect job at blending into the crowd with her skills. She wondered a bit about the skills others had displayed but was distracted quickly with the smell of food. Finch took her hand once more as they walked to the dining table, sitting next to her and smiling. “I'm really proud of you” he grinned, scooping some food oto his plate. “I'm proud of you too” she replied and he gave her hand a light squeeze before letting go.

Dinner that evening was a Braised chicken dish with grapes and fennel, served on a bed of rice. The sweet cooked grapes melted in her mouth and the wine demi glaze was syrupy and decadent. Dinner was full of high spirits and jokes that somehow got even Aerith to chuckle a bit. In the midst of the chaos and looming thoughts of death, she felt a tiny glimpse of hope.

[leeknot]

Lee Know × Reader

Genre:

Psychological Thriller

Synopsis:

This oneshot portrays the reader as defiant and actively fighting back, emphasizing the dangerous nature of the situation. Lee Know’s obsession with control is clear, but the reader’s resistance remains strong.

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It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You’d always been careful, aware of your surroundings. But there was something about Lee Know—something in the way he always seemed to be watching, waiting, that set your nerves on edge.

At first, it was small things. The way he would appear out of nowhere when you least expected it. The way he knew just a little too much about you. He was always there, lurking in the background, always a little too close.

And then, one day, everything changed.

You were walking home from school, headphones in, lost in your thoughts, when a van pulled up beside you. Before you could even react, rough hands grabbed you, pulling you inside. You tried to scream, tried to fight back, but they were too strong. Your vision swam as you were shoved into the back, the door slamming shut behind you.

When you opened your eyes, there he was—Lee Know. Calm. Collected. His eyes held an eerie calmness, as if this was all part of some twisted plan.

“Shh, don’t scream. You’ll only make it harder for yourself,” he whispered, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You stared at him, disbelief washing over you. “What the hell are you doing? Let me go!” you snapped, your voice shaking with anger.

He merely smiled, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to understand… you belong with me.”

The van sped down an empty road, the world outside slipping further and further away. Panic clawed at your chest as you tried to break free. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” you yelled, thrashing against the restraints. “Let me out of here! Now!”

Lee Know’s expression darkened for a moment, but his voice remained steady. “You’ll understand in time. I’ll make sure of that.”

---

When the van finally stopped, you were led into a room—small, dimly lit, and completely unfamiliar. The walls were bare, the air thick with tension. You looked around, eyes darting, trying to find a way out, but there was none. The door was locked, and the windows were barred. You were trapped.

Lee Know sat across from you, eyes never leaving your face. “I know you’re angry,” he said, his voice soft, almost soothing. “But you’ll learn to appreciate it. I promise.”

You glared at him, your fists clenched. “You’re insane. You can’t keep me here. You think I’m just going to sit back and let you—”

“Shut up,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “You don’t get to talk right now. You’re going to listen.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. There was something about the way he spoke, something cold and final in his tone, that made you hesitate.

He leaned forward, eyes darkening as he studied you. “You don’t have a choice, you know. You belong to me now. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make you realize that.”

You sneered at him. “You think you can control me? You think I’m just going to fall for your sick little game?”

Lee Know’s smile widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “You don’t have to fall for anything. You’re already here, and you’ll stay here until you understand. I’ll make sure of it.”

You stood, trying to make a break for it, but Lee Know was faster. He caught your arm in a vice-like grip, pulling you back into the chair.

“Don’t fight me,” he warned, his voice dangerously low. “It’s better if you don’t. You’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

But you weren’t about to give in. You didn’t care how strong or persistent he was. You weren’t going to let him break you. With a grunt of effort, you shoved him away, your voice shaking with fury. “I’ll never be yours, Lee Know. Never.”

His face remained unreadable as he stood slowly, walking toward you. “We’ll see about that,” he murmured. “You can fight me all you want, but in the end, you’ll understand. You’ll see that this is where you belong.”

You wanted to scream, to break free, but as the days went on, the room grew smaller, the walls closing in. Lee Know’s presence was constant, his obsession with you growing every day. He watched you when you ate, when you slept, when you tried to escape. His eyes never left you, and no matter how hard you fought, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing.

But you wouldn’t give in. You couldn’t. You would never be his.

---

End.

[mermaidsirennikita]

omg your description of the Ramin/Sierra rendition of point of no return scratched a brain itch I've had for years bc YES! That's literally why that song hits so hard for me! Do you have any book recs that would fit that sexually charged vulnerable angry energy? 🙏 or books where one of the pair is "monstrous" in some way?

Lol yes! I love that energy.

As a sweeping generalization, of course, I must recommend Kresley Cole's Immortals After Dark, because they will always give you that "scary man/seemingly fragile woman who's made of steel and the sexuality is WEIRD" energy.

I would especially recommend A Hunger Like No Other (Lachlain very literally takes Emma captive, dubcon and all, and has this resentful hate her/love her thing with her for a while, at the same time considering her His Precious, also he's been underground for 150 years and when they meet she tries to run and he pins her to the ground and goes "DO NOT RUN FROM ONE SUCH AS ME" and it's a banger).

Dark Needs at Night's Edge has a virgin vampire hero and a ghostly heroine who performed as a ballerina, imprisoned together, and he's fully crazy and also afraid of like, unleashing himself on her. It's soooo angsty and sad and horny. Take a shot every time Conrad licks a vampire fang because Kresley's vampires have fangs that lengthen when they're horny.

Lothaire, obviously, once again has a virgin kidnapped by a man who hasn't had sex in............ in Lothaire's case, like 2,967 years. Lothaire is super resentful of Ellie, while also being drawn to her, and the feeling is mutual. Another incredibly horny book, but what I really love is that he like... has to actually learn that there is a difference between possessing someone and loving them. Because in his heart, Lothaire is like, 11.

Shadowheart by Laura Kinsale LOL FULL. FUCKIN. STOP. A medieval romance between a teenage girl (like she's 17, y'all have been warned) and the man she met when she was six and he was sixteen and he dropped her off at her sister's place like so much garbage then went off to do more assassin things. Allegreto. Is. CRACKED. You can see him as a teen in For My Lady's Heart, and he's cracked there, too! Just a broken twisted man who likes to kill people and also submit to a good flogging from the woman he forced to marry him! I laugh and I cry. This is beautifully written and hot and absolutely will give you that "ingenue is mentored by her evil mentor but also has the ability to emotionally crush him" material. There are also so many scenes in this book where Allegreto is like, shaking while Elayne touches him in a sexual manner~, like soaked chihuahua shaking cock out and leaking like a faucet, and that's very Phantom imo. Heads up though the first sex scene in this book is noncon, though it is very "old school historical consummate the marriage she says no but she enjoys part of it and oh hey we've discovered he's into being hurt" noncon. He's also super dangerous and kinda monstrous!

Duke of Sin by Elizabeth Hoyt. I bring this one up because again, villain romance; the heroine is not at all an ingenue, but the hero is a campy, ridiculous man who like, kills people while completely naked and wearing a bejeweled robe. But he's also, like, legitimately insane due to profound abuse he suffered as a child (heads up; sexual abuse, animal torture to psychologically abuse a child, the works) and as he falls in love with her this super intense vulnerable bond forms between them. This is very "he's physically beautiful but mentally wrecked" on the monster scale.

The Raven Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt is a softer, less insane touch but may also give you that vulnerable angsty angry sexuality with the added benefit of a hero who also feels monstrous because of his looks. The hero has disfiguring smallpox scars and the heroine is his secretary with whom she forms a very Rochester/Jane bond, but he needs to marry a woman on his level and women won't have sex with him for free because of his face (I mean, he also doesn't try to be fair) so he goes to this fancy brothel. Heroine finds out and is pISSED because they had unresolved sexual tension and so she sneaks into the brothel wearing a mask and has sex with him by the dark of light.

Mafia Madman by Mila Finelli. YEAH. I'M PUTTING A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE ON THIS LIST. It's over the top, it's campy, it's ultimately about a man becoming obsessed with a woman and kidnapping her and keeping her on his yacht and making her his pet while knowing she's gonna bite back at any minute all because her brother-in-law mentally and physically tortured him to the point of his brain breaking???? He can't stand to be touched because of all the torture???? He gives her an ipad so she can sketch her clothing designs and then is like "and now it's time for my treat" and goes down on her? Lol the sex in this is wild at points, but there's also a fear of true intimacy in it, and Enzo is seen as a monster, and kinda sees himself as a monster. He's also CERTIFIABLY INSANE.

Priest by Sierra Simone. This isn't gonna give monstrous vibes, but the way the sex in this book plays with the sacred and profane, the way the hero struggles with it and feels like he should basically hide himself from this woman, the way he is! A Catholic priest! To whom she's confessing! Which is a bit of a conflict of interest! It's..... a lot.

Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway (my favorite Grace thus far) does have a scarred hero who wears a mask while running a criminal spy network populated by child soldiers he calls to him with a flute? The heroine is his former childhood friend and a widow whose husband SUCKED. SUCKED BALLS. And not in a fun way, and she and the hero reconnect--but he wasn't scarred when they knew each other before, and he spends a lot of the book hiding his face from her (which is funny, because he's also got an exhibitionist/voyeur streak for sure). When he does let her see, it's so ridiculously soft and vulnerable sad and I love it lots. She also sits on his face, which does give "now that is a face I'd be happy to sit on" vibes most romantic line in a superhero film let's talk about it

King's Captive by Amber Bardan is a truly fucking insane dark romance that I can't even begin to describe aside from saying that the book opens on the heroine's birthday party, where everyone has been gunned down and the hero is like "happy birthday baby" and then you cut forward like 3-5 years and he's kept her on an island and left her untouched and she wants to escape but she's also drawn to him and he makes these amazing steaks but he's also kinda scary and at one point he makes her a mixtape and she puts it on and masturbates knowing somehow that he's on the other side of the day, aware that she's masturbating, also masturbating.

Kathryn Ann Kingsley's Tenebris trilogy has a 1920s vibe and a plucky heroine who's like "I think my missing twin brother joined a cult" and asking his hot former professor "did you initiate my brother into a cult" while he's like "uh no but I did merge my body and soul with a Cthulu shadow monster that keeps wanting to come out and fuck you, which I want to do also" and she's like "neat". She did do a straight up Phantom of the Opera retelling or something. It did not work for me; it might work for you.

[allthingsfook]

helloooo could i possibly get a ship from u? :) i’ve been seeing ur posts and they r so extremely cute omg.. keeping this anon, obvi LOL

i’m 5’2 (she/her), i have extremely long, black hair, brown eyes and naturally tan skin. i love the palazzo pant, tiny tank top look with big earrings!! gold is my jewelry of choice :)

i keep my hair long because i dance hula & tahitian! dance is truly my first love. besides dancing, i’m a self-proclaimed gym rat & i love lifting heavy.. my favorite day is leg + glute day 🫣 i also love to crochet, knit and bake! i also have a really bad shopping addiction lol. aaaandddd i have a mini dachshund named oscar who has my entire heart <3

i’m generally really shy & awkward when you first meet me, but you’ll def know when i’m comfortable w you when i literally never stop talking/cracking jokes. i like going to get silly (alcoholic) drinks with my friends and all around just hanging out. i like to think i glow the brightest during the spring & summer time bc i gravitate towards my bed during winter (i love the warm sun!!). i’m always open to listening to new music & i think i definitely broadened my horizons in the past 5 years.

i also recently graduated from college with a bachelors in psychology & am looking to apply to masters programs in counseling starting fall 2024! i aspire to be a licensed marriage & family therapist :)

thank you so much <3333

Thank you so much! This blog has basically turned into a ship blog 😂😂

I got mixed vibes while reading your blurb, but my heart says….

Josh 🍃🥝💚

First off, I think your free spirit, modern hippie vibe would attract him. In a room full of blonde VSCO girls (i have no idea what the 2023 term for those are 😂), you’d pull his attention!!! When he gets enough liquid courage to introduce himself to you, he’d be genuinely intrigued by all your interests and future plans!!

When you tell him about hula and Tahitian dancing, he’d scooch to the edge of his seat and listen intently. Over and over again, the boys say Josh is a worldly guy. He’d love to learn more about that culture, music and form of dance. Once you get to know each other better, he’d most certainly ask for a private dance in a cheeky sort of way 😂

Josh is certainly attracted to a woman who takes care of herself. Now that doesn’t necessarily mean skinny, because I’m convinced he loves a little curvier girl. Lucky for him you really do be working that 🍑

Josh would appreciate your creative outlets, and encourage you to gift them to your loved ones around the holidays. I can see the two of you baking together in the winter. You’d be tossing unmeasured ingredients into the bowel and josh would be glued to the recipe. “Wait, how much sugar did you put in?” He’d question with concern. You’d just shrug your shoulders and tell him that you measure with your heart! And when your dessert is done baking, he’d agree that straying from the recipe paid off!

As eclectic as Josh can be in areas of his life, his wardrobe is falling short 😂 At least from what we see. Please drag that man to a vintage or thrift store and spice his closet up! I get the sense he’d be uncomfortable in some bold options but with your reassurance and compliments he’d grow to like them! Let’s not forget Oscar!!!! I picture Josh sorta being like the dad that doesn’t wanna get a family dog, but the kids convince him and then they are like best friends in a few months 😂 Josh will be a little apprehensive of a dog at first, not because he doesn’t like them or doesn’t want one, I think it’s just a huge adjustment and responsibility. Give him a month or so and he’ll be bringing toys and treats home left and right, rolling around on the floor with him, and taking up the whole bed to cuddle with Oscar.

Honestly your shy, inverted demeanor when your first meet Josh might be perceived as refreshing! After all, he spends a lot of time around people who recognize him and wanna chat his ear off! I think he’d like a girl he had to chase after a little bit. When you finally let him in and things are going steady, the fact that the both of you are so similar would make your relationship effortlessly fun.

I think Josh thrives in the sunny months as well. He’d admire your glow and beauty in those seasons; calling you his summertime sweetheart💛

Having such a diverse taste in music is important if you are with Josh, otherwise your brain would be drowned out with shit you’ve never heard of. And while you do have a broad taste, Josh probably still will do exactly that. His taste in music is everything BUT mainstream. He’d definitely introduce you to a lot more!

Lastly, he would be so proud of your educations. Proud and attracted. As I have mentioned before, he definitely likes a woman with a head on her shoulder and someone who can carry an intelligent conversation. I don’t believe for a second he would enjoy someone who just always agreed with his opinions; if anything he’d want someone to challenge him just to engage in a healthy debate. Psychology 100% intrigues Josh, so I think he’d really enjoy talking with you about various psych topics; picking your brain for hours on end.

Well, I think that sums it up! I hope to hear back from you on how accurate you think the ship was! Even if it isn’t your lane, I still like to hear. The great part of his fandom is most people love all the boys!!! Here’s a little collage and song ship just for you!

[alexesguerra]

Why We Meditate: The Science and Practice of Clarity and Compassion Why We Meditate: The Science and Practice of Clarity and Compassion Contributor(s): Goleman, Daniel (Author) , Rinpoche, Tsoknyi (Author) Publisher: Atria Books ISBN: 1982178469 Physical Info: 0.6" H x 8.3" L x 5.5" W (0.4 lbs) 224 pages Daniel Goleman is the bestselling author of several books, including Emotional Intelligence, Focus, and Optimal. He was a science journalist for The New York Times, received the American Psychological Association's Lifetime Achievement Award, and was honored by Harvard for his contributions to education, business, and society. He lives near New York City. Find out more at DanielGoleman.info. Tsoknyi Rinpoche is one of the most beloved teachers among the new generation of Tibetan Buddhist masters. Widely recognized as an outstanding meditation teacher for over thirty years, he is the author of Open Heart, Open Mind, Fearless Simplicity, and Carefree Dignity. He has received accolades from prominent Buddhist teachers, including His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Find out more at TsoknyiRinpoche.org. Review Quotes: "Those looking for an accessible, jargon-free primer on meditation should check this out."-- Publishers Weekly Review Quotes: "An appealing, instructive mixture of Eastern spiritual practices and modern psychological research."-- Kirkus Reviews Review Quotes: "As valuable for skeptical or reluctant meditative practitioners as it is for experienced ones, this book is actionable, intentional, personal, and practical."-- Library Journal Review Quotes: " Why We Meditate is an exciting new book that combines recent research into meditation with fresh, accessible and profound teachings on the actual practice. I consider Tsoknyi Rinpoche one of my beloved teachers and so wholeheartedly endorse any attempt to share his healing and liberating teachings with the world." -- Pema Chödrön, author of When Things Fall Apart Review Quotes: "Two giants team up for a kind of meditative buddy film-- What's not to like? In this book, you'll get practical, doable techniques for making two game-changing inner moves: getting out of your head, as well as taming your demons with warmth rather than our habitual resistance, indulgence, and denial. The best part is that all of it is backed up by rigorous science. Highly recommend."-- Dan Harris, author of 10% Happier Review Quotes: "This remarkable book by meditation master Tsoknyi Rinpoche and science writer and longtime meditation practitioner Daniel Goleman is a rare and exquisite exploration of the art, science, and practice of meditation. Practical, wise, humorous, and an extraordinary resource, it is a book that the reader and practitioner will return to again and again."-- Roshi Joan Halifax, author of Standing at the Edge Review Quotes: " Why We Meditate is a rare blend of genuine, far-reaching meditative wisdom and the cutting edge neuroscience that both explains and supports it. Tsoknyi Rinpoche transmits these teachings with his characteristic depth of understanding, clarity of expression, and warm-hearted compassion, while Daniel Goleman contributes his decades-long familiarity with the Western exploration of the science of the mind. This book is an extraordinary collaboration and a great jewel that will benefit all who read it. Highly recommended."-- Joseph Goldstein, author of Mindfulness and A Heart Full of Peace Publisher Marketing: This "rare and exquisite exploration of the art, science, and practice of meditation" (Roshni Joan Halifax, author of Standing at the Edge) offers a much-needed antidote to the forces of stress that overwhelm so many of us--from New York Times bestselling author Daniel Goleman and renowned meditation teacher Tsoknyi Rinpoche. We all experience negative emotions from time to time. But in a world with as much frenzy and pressure as ours, it's incredibly easy for these same emotions to become destructive. Now, by blending Eastern tradition with Western science, Why We Meditate effortlessly helps you embrace and understand meditation as never before with advice that is "fresh, accessible, and profound" (Pema Chödrön, author of When Things Fall Apart). Based on groundbreaking neuroscience, Why We Meditate is a guidebook that will help you not only break free from negative patterns of thought and behavior but radically embrace your very being. Revolutionize your health, relationships, and soul with this book that is perfect for both serious meditators and those new to the practice. Contributor Bio:Goleman, Daniel Daniel Goleman is the bestselling author of several books, including Emotional Intelligence, Focus, and Optimal. He was a science journalist for The New York Times, received the American Psychological Association's Lifetime Achievement Award, and was honored by Harvard for his contributions to education, business, and society. He lives near New York City. Find out more at DanielGoleman.info. Contributor Bio:Rinpoche, Tsoknyi Tsoknyi Rinpoche is one of the most beloved teachers among the new generation of Tibetan Buddhist masters. Widely recognized as an outstanding meditation teacher for over thirty years, he is the author of Open Heart, Open Mind, Fearless Simplicity, and Carefree Dignity. He has received accolades from prominent Buddhist teachers, including His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Find out more at TsoknyiRinpoche.org.

[readitreviewit]

Are you afraid of monsters under the bed? Well, Nora Roberts' latest thriller, "Identity," will make you more afraid of the monsters that walk among us. The story centers around Morgan Albright, a former Army brat who has finally found her place in a friendly neighborhood near Baltimore. Her life is turned upside down when she hosts her first dinner party and realizes that the charming IT guy she's been flirting with is actually a con artist named Gavin. The night ends in tragedy when she discovers her friend and roommate Nina dead on the floor, and she realizes that she was the one who let the monster in. If you're looking for a cozy mystery, this is not the book for you. "Identity" is a rollercoaster of emotions and twists that will keep you on the edge of your seat until the last page. Nora Roberts knows how to play with our fears and anxiety, giving us a terrifying reality check about how easy it is to fall for a smooth-talking predator. What makes "Identity" stand out from other thrillers is the character development. Morgan is not your typical damsel in distress. She's a fighter who refuses to be a victim, even when everyone tells her to run and hide. Her journey to reclaim her life is inspiring, and her interactions with the secondary characters bring a balance of humor and heartwarming moments to the story. The romance element in "Identity" might not be the main focus, but it adds a layer of hope and lightness to the dark and gritty storyline. Miles Jameson, the love interest, is a refreshing change from the usual alpha male trope. He's grounded, patient, and supportive, giving Morgan a safe space to heal and trust again. Aside from the main characters, the supporting cast is also well-rounded and intriguing. The FBI agents are not just faceless authorities; they have personalities and backstories that make them relatable. The secondary villain adds another layer of danger and unpredictability, keeping the readers guessing until the end. The writing style in "Identity" is smooth and engaging, with vivid descriptions that make the scenes come alive. Nora Roberts' attention to detail is impressive, adding layers of depth to the setting and the characters' emotions. The pacing is spot-on, with enough suspense and action to keep the readers hooked, but not too much that it becomes overwhelming. Overall, "Identity" is a must-read for fans of psychological thrillers and suspenseful romances. It's a well-crafted story that will make you think twice before trusting a stranger or unlocking your door at night. Nora Roberts proves once again why she's the queen of romantic suspense, delivering a chilling but satisfying tale of survival and redemption. "Don't wait any longer! Grab your copy of this life-changing book today or experience it for FREE with a 30-day trial of Audible. Start transforming your life and achieving your dreams now!" Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details)