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perfectsunlight · 2 days ago

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[31] DO IT

warnings: emotional distress, family conflict, intense feelings of isolation and public scrutiny.

ivory had always been afraid of being forgotten. not by her fans or the world—but by the one person who mattered most. even as a child, she would wake up in the middle of the night, wandering to her mother’s room, needing reassurance that jennie was still there. sometimes, she’d stand quietly in the doorway, watching the steady rise and fall of her mother’s breathing, too scared to wake her but too terrified to return to bed without knowing she wasn’t alone.

it was a fear she never spoke of, one that existed in the spaces between phone calls, in the empty chairs at school performances and birthday dinners. as she grew older, ivory learned to bury that fear beneath layers of independence and a carefully constructed persona. she became untouchable, unbreakable. but deep down, the fear never really went away. it just evolved—into a gnawing ache, a quiet desperation that simmered beneath the surface.

no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, no matter how fiercely she told herself that she didn’t need anyone, especially not jennie—there was always that part of her, that small, terrified child, that craved her mother’s presence. it didn’t matter that the world saw jennie as an untouchable icon, a woman too busy for mundane things like school recitals and family dinners. to ivory, jennie wasn’t a superstar. she was her mother. the one person whose absence felt like a constant void in her life, no matter how full her schedule or how loud the applause was at the end of the day.

as a child, it was easier to forgive. ivory could accept the excuses—the concerts, the tours, the interviews. her friends’ parents worked, too. it was normal, she told herself. but as she grew older, the empty seats at her events became harder to overlook. the brief phone calls shorter. the excuses thinner. and yet, despite all of that, ivory couldn’t bring herself to truly resent jennie.

she couldn’t. she wouldn’t.

but she was scared. scared that one day her mother's calls would stop altogether. scared that the distance between them would grow so wide, neither of them would be able to bridge it. and now, standing at the center of this storm, that fear felt closer than ever.

the headlines hadn’t stopped since paris.

who is jennie’s mystery daughter? did k-pop’s queen secretly have a child? blackpink’s jennie: a liar and a mother?

the press had latched onto the grainy photos and videos of their argument like vultures circling a fresh kill. ivory had seen the way they twisted the story, the wild speculation that spread like wildfire across social media. the world now knew jennie had a daughter.

and they knew it was her.

jane had spent years keeping her identity hidden, living under the radar while the world worshiped her mother. she had liked it that way. the anonymity, the freedom to exist without the suffocating weight of expectations that came with being jennie kim’s daughter. but now? that fragile shield had been shattered, and the world was closing in.

the calls had started soon after the story broke. jennie, frantic, trying to reach her—voicemail after voicemail, the panic in her voice barely contained. ivory had listened to each one with growing dread, her finger hovering over the play button as her heart raced in her chest.

“valentine, please. i need to know you’re safe.” “jane, please. please just let me know you’re alright.”

there had been so much desperation in her mother’s voice, the kind ivory wasn’t used to hearing from her mother. jennie was always composed, always in control. but now, she sounded as if she was unraveling at the seams. and ivory couldn’t take it. she couldn’t bear to hear her mother like that, not when she had caused this entire mess.

so she ignored the calls. all of them.

when the familiar buzzing showed on her screen every few hours, it felt like an unwanted reminder of the chaos she had unleashed, a storm that tore through both of their lives. each vibration sent a sickening twist through her stomach, a reminder of the gravity of her actions.

after the confrontation in paris, ivory had fled the hybe building, overwhelmed and reeling. she didn’t want to face anyone—not the paparazzi waiting outside, not her mother, and certainly not herself. so she slipped away, taking a cab to a small, rundown hotel in the heart of seoul, far from the flashing lights and the stares that burned into her skin.

her managers knew where she was, and they had told her to lay low until they figured out what they were going to do.

the hotel was shabby, with faded wallpaper and a flickering neon sign that buzzed incessantly, but it offered a strange kind of solace. she checked in under a fake name, wanting to escape the reality of who she was and what she had done. here, she could hide from the world, drown in her thoughts, and figure out how to untangle the mess she had created.

days passed in a blur of solitude. the room was small and dimly lit, with a single window that overlooked the busy street below. she could hear the sounds of the city—the chatter of voices, the honking of horns, the distant thrum of music. but within those four walls, it felt as if she were in a different universe, one where time stood still and the chaos outside faded into a dull hum.

ivory found herself staring at the walls, the phone silent for days. she had turned it off, the weight of it resting on the nightstand like a stone. the outside world felt like a distant echo, muted and blurry. she had done this to think, to find clarity amid the storm of emotions that threatened to engulf her. but instead of solace, she was confronted with a suffocating silence that pressed down on her, amplifying her thoughts until they roared in her mind.

every night, she would curl up in the thin hotel sheets, staring at the ceiling as tears soaked into the fabric. the headlines blared in her mind, the way the world painted her as a reckless daughter, a girl who had turned her back on her mother. each image she had seen of jennie—stoic yet clearly shattered—felt like a knife twisting deeper into her heart.

maybe she had gotten it wrong all along? maybe it wasn’t jennie who was a bad mother, but perhaps ivory was just a bad daughter?

the thought gnawed at her, burrowing into the cracks she’d tried so hard to seal with layers of resentment and self-protection. for so long, she had told herself that her mother’s absences were her choice, that they were symptoms of a life she’d constantly chosen over jane. but maybe she’d been too harsh, too quick to judge. maybe, instead of seeing her mother’s absence as abandonment, she should have seen it as a sacrifice—the kind of sacrifice jennie had made over and over again for a career that demanded so much of her.

she remembered the times her mother had tried, the small efforts that jane had always brushed aside.

the hasty texts on long flights, the brief hugs at drop-offs. the late nights when the idol would tiptoe into her room just to check if she was sleeping, her gaze lingering as if she could somehow make up for all the time she’d missed. ivory had shrugged those moments off as mere gestures, believing them to be obligations jennie fulfilled out of duty, not love. but now, lying alone in the dim room, the reality of it hit her in waves. what if those gestures had been her mother’s way of holding on? what if, in those tiny efforts, her mom had been showing her all the love she knew how to give?

the guilt was like a weight pressing down on her chest, making it harder to breathe. ivory had been so focused on what jennie hadn’t done. she had zeroed in on the moments she’d missed, that she’d blinded herself to the ways her mother had tried. she felt stupid now, like a fool who’d misread the intentions of someone she’d thought she knew.

and here she was now, hiding away in a hotel room, and pushing away her mother like she had always done. perhaps it was the only thing ivory was good at?

the irony stung. for so long, she’d told herself she didn’t need anyone, that she could stand on her own. but now the feeling of jennie’s absence left her hollow. what she wouldn’t give to hear her mother’s voice, to feel her arms around her, reassuring her that no matter what, she was loved.

she just needed to know that even though the world hated her, jennie didn’t. but how could she face the woman who had done so much for her now? how could she call and ask for comfort from her own mistakes?

it was unbearable.

the silence was thick, suffocating, punctuated only by the soft, shuddering breaths she tried to keep at bay. her hair clung damply to the sides of her face, sticking where her tears had traced lines over her skin, and she made no effort to brush it away. she was too tired, too drained to fight it. the shame was a living, breathing thing, curling around her ribs and squeezing until she felt she might break. she wanted to call, needed to hear her mother’s voice if only to remind herself that she hadn’t lost her for good.

but fear held her still, paralyzed by the thought of what jennie might say—what if this time, she’d gone too far?

her mother had built her image, brick by brick, a fortress against the world. for as long as she could remember, jennie had been untouchable—a figure of grace and strength who carried her fame with an elegance that shielded them both. she was not only a mother but a force, someone who had learned how to guard herself against scrutiny, judgment, and the eyes of millions.

and in one single night, ivory had torn it down entirely.

the thought made her throat tighten. it wasn’t just her mother’s disappointment she feared; it was the possibility that she might have broken something between them beyond repair. she could almost feel the weight of her mother’s silent gaze, the look jennie gave when words failed her, a look jane had always dreaded. how many times had jennie shielded her from the world, made sacrifices so she could have a semblance of a normal life, always trying to balance her career with the quiet reality of motherhood?

the young idol slowly shifted to grab her phone, finally powering it on for the first time in days.

with a trembling hand, ivory unlocked her phone, its glow casting an eerie light across the dim hotel room. notifications flooded the screen—missed calls from jennie, countless unread messages, and a storm of news alerts she didn’t have the strength to open. she ignored them all, her thumb hovering over the search bar instead. she hesitated, feeling the familiar ache in her chest that had kept her silent for days, and then she typed in her mother’s name.

the videos started playing softly, her mother’s familiar voice filling the empty room like a gentle balm. some were clips from concerts, where jennie laughed and shouted with the crowd, her voice confident and warm. others were softer interviews, where she answered questions thoughtfully, her tone composed and steady. ivory’s heart twisted as she listened, letting her mother’s voice settle over her like a blanket, the sounds wrapping around her loneliness and fear.

as the videos played, she closed her eyes, imagining that jennie was right there beside her, as if these recordings could somehow bridge the distance between them. she could almost hear her mother speaking directly to her, calming her fears, reassuring her like she used to when jane was little, waking from a nightmare.

she remembered the times jieun would have to do the same thing she was doing now. jane always had trouble sleeping whenever jennie was gone. whenever her mother was away—on tour, at a shoot, anywhere the demands of fame took her—ivory would find herself wide awake, the shadows in her room feeling bigger and darker without jennie’s reassuring presence. the quiet would fill her with a familiar fear, that gnawing ache that maybe one day jennie might not come back at all.

on those nights, ivory would wander down the hallway, blanket in hand, and find jieun still awake, often reading by a small, warm light. jieun always seemed to know what was coming. she’d reach out, patting the spot beside her without a word. “couldn’t sleep, huh?” she’d ask gently, her voice soft but steady. ivory would nod, curling up beside her grandmother as she reached for her phone.

they’d spend those late hours scrolling through videos of jennie, watching old interviews and clips from concerts. her grandmother would play each one as if it were a lullaby, knowing that jennie's familiar laugh and voice were the only things that could ease ivory’s fears. ivory would lean her head against her grandmother’s shoulder, letting her mother’s voice wash over her until her eyes grew heavy, lulled by the warmth of her grandmother and the comfort of hearing her favorite person’s voice, even if only through a screen.

now, alone in a cheap hotel room, ivory found herself reaching for that same comfort.

the hum of jennie’s voice blurred the line between reality and memory. as she drifted further into sleep, ivory could almost believe that her mother’s hand was stroking her hair, whispering that everything would be alright, that no matter what happened, they’d get through it together.

when morning came, ivory slowly pulled herself from the mattress and forced herself to get up and shower.

the water came down in torrents, cold and sharp against her skin, but ivory barely felt it. she stood there, shoulders slumped, the steam from the shower swirling around her in thick clouds. her hands gripped the edge of the glass shower door as her mind spiraled, the weight of the decision she knew she had to make crashing down on her like the cold water that refused to wash away her guilt.

she had to do it. she had to put out a statement—one that would sever the last thread of connection between her and jennie. the world had already begun to twist the narrative, speculating and spinning stories. it was only a matter of time before the pressure would reach its boiling point, and she knew if she didn’t act quickly, everything would unravel even further.

but even as she told herself this, a pit formed deep in her stomach. the words she’d have to say—the lies, the betrayal—they burned in her chest. she couldn’t stop imagining jennie’s face, her voice on the other end of the phone, pleading for ivory to come back, for her to let her in again.

she could almost hear jennie’s voice now, asking, "why? why are you doing this, jane?"

the weight of her mother’s potential reaction was almost too much to bear. but there was no other choice. she had to distance herself. it was the only way to protect jennie from the media storm, from the chaos that ivory had set in motion.

if she was ever linked to her, it would only drag jennie further into the mess. and she couldn’t do that to her, not after her mother spent so many years in the crosshairs of the public.

but at the same time, she couldn’t ignore the wrenching pain twisting in her chest, the unrelenting ache of tearing herself away from the only person who had ever loved her unconditionally. it wasn’t just the public denial—it was the emptiness of choosing silence over connection, the silence that would stretch between them, forever.

her breath caught, and before she knew it, the tears started to fall.

she didn’t bother to wipe them away. the water mixed with her tears as they streamed down her face. each sob felt like a jagged stone pressing into her chest, each breath a sharp reminder of what she was about to do.

she stood there for what felt like hours, the water running cold against her skin, as the weight of the decision consumed her. she wasn’t ready. she wasn’t ready to break her own heart. but what else could she do?

it was the only way to protect her mother. it was the final act of love she could show—to shield her from the chaos, just like jennie had done for her for many years.

the young idol’s body wracked with silent sobs, her shoulders shaking with the force of them, as the cold water continued to cascade over her, doing nothing to numb the pain. the girl slid down the wall of the shower, curling into herself, her body trembling with exhaustion and sorrow. the sobs finally quieted, replaced by a dull, hollow ache. she stared blankly at the drain as the water swirled down it, as if it could wash away the decision she was just about to make. but it wouldn’t.

there was no undoing this.

but as she looked at herself in the foggy glass, the reflection staring back at her seemed like a stranger. her eyes were red and swollen, her hair clinging to her face, but it wasn’t the image that haunted her. it was the feeling—the deep, gnawing emptiness that settled in her chest.

she wasn’t ready to be this person. the one who had betrayed the woman who had given her everything.

it felt like an eternity before ivory got out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, her body still trembling from the emotional storm that had passed through her. she stood for a moment, just staring at the floor, as if hoping for some sign, some sense of clarity, but nothing came. the room around her was still, and the weight of the world seemed to press down on her shoulders.

the idol opened her notes app, typing and deleting words over and over again. what could she say? or what should she say?

the sound of her fingers tapping against the screen felt deafening in the stillness of the room. each word she typed seemed hollow, inadequate—nothing could capture the depth of the turmoil swirling inside her. ivory’s thoughts were a mess, jumbled fragments of regret, guilt, and fear crashing against each other, leaving no space for the clarity she desperately needed.

finally, the girl decided on a few short, simple sentences. this would give them enough information for now. it would do its job, it would be a swift, clean cut.

with trembling hands, the idol opened instagram. all le sserafim members had access to the group’s social media. it seems that still rang true even in the midst of her controversy. do it. you coward, just post it.

ivory screamed internally, the weight of the decision suffocating her as she paced frantically around the tiny hotel room. her feet moved almost instinctively, a frantic attempt to outrun the rising panic that clutched at her chest. she felt like she was suffocating, the air thick with the pressure of what she had to do, the knowledge of the damage she was about to cause, and the raw, burning shame that threatened to undo her.

she gripped the edges of the dresser, her knuckles white, and tried to steady herself. her breath came in short, uneven bursts, each inhale too shallow, too jagged. the sound of her heartbeat pounded in her ears, deafening and unrelenting.

the phone sat on the bed, waiting, but it felt like it belonged to someone else—someone stronger, someone more composed. not her. not the girl who had ruined everything, who had just irrevocably hurt the one person who had loved her unconditionally.

jane ran a shaky hand through her damp hair, the strands sticking to her face, her palms clammy with sweat. her mind screamed at her to just do it, to just press post and be done with it. but her body refused to listen, frozen in a state of panic, unable to make the final step.

she thought about grabbing a drink from the minibar, or a cigarette from the convenience store across the street. just something, anything, to numb the ache, to quiet the voice screaming inside her head. anything to give her the courage to end this.

instead, she found herself pacing again, faster this time, her feet slapping against the carpet floor as she raked her fingers through her wet hair. tears blurred her vision as she thought about the hell she was about to unleash.

she would never be able to fix this, to look in her mother’s face after what she’s going to do. how could she live with herself knowing she was the one to destroy whatever was left of their fragile relationship? that it was her delivering the final blow?

every step felt like a mile, every thought twisted into another dark, suffocating reality. jane grabbed the phone again, holding it in her trembling hands, but she couldn’t bring herself to unlock it. she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to stop crying, but the tears wouldn’t listen. they streamed down her cheeks in hot, unrelenting trails, as if her body was rejecting the very decision she was trying to make.

the voice in her head, her inner critic, was louder now. you have to. and all she could do was cry harder, fall to her knees on the floor. she knelt hunched over the small device in her hands. ivory wiped her hot tears away, but they kept coming, the grief and shame bubbling to the surface, threatening to drown her.

“fucking do it,” she whispered hoarsely to herself, as though forcing herself to speak the words would somehow make it easier. but it didn’t. the room felt smaller, and the decision felt heavier. it felt like the entire world was pressing down on her, suffocating her, forcing her to face something she wasn’t ready for.

she was stuck. terrified. mortified.

the phone was still in her hand, and the post still wasn’t out. it felt like the silence of the room was mocking her. the minutes dragged on, stretching into eternity, until she collapsed onto the edge of the bed, holding her phone like a lifeline, but too scared to actually use it.

“i’m sorry, mom,” she whispered into the empty space, the words barely audible, as if apologizing to the void might make it somehow less real. “i’m so sorry.” the young girl swallowed thickly, her throat tight and raw, the weight of her words nearly suffocating her. she could feel the tightness in her chest as if it might collapse in on itself, her body trembling with the force of her guilt and regret. the silence of the room was deafening now, every breath she took louder than the last, like an unbearable countdown to a moment she knew she couldn’t escape.

but she had to. she had to do this.

the tears kept coming, streaming down her face with relentless force. she squeezed her eyes shut, her whole body shuddering with sobs that felt too deep, too jagged to put into words. it was as though her very soul was unraveling with each breath.

ivory tried to steady herself, but the weight of what she was about to do, what she already had to do, was suffocating. she couldn’t breathe. she couldn’t think. she couldn’t speak.

her hand shook as she clutched her phone, the cold screen and hotel walls staring back at her like a silent witness to her unraveling. she could hear her pulse hammering in her ears, each beat like a loud echo in the stillness of the room. the weight of the moment pressed down on her chest, so heavy it felt like she might drown beneath it. she swallowed again, her throat a dry, cracked thing, a raw, burning sensation creeping from her chest to her neck. the very air seemed thick with suffocating tension.

for a heartbeat, time stilled.

the phone felt like a foreign object in her hand, as if she no longer recognized the tool she was holding, the tool that would carve the irreversible. ivory’s fingers hovered over the screen, trembling with a fear that left her weak, her vision blurred by the constant stream of tears falling from her eyes. the words she had written earlier, so cold and detached, flashed in front of her like a cruel reminder of her betrayal.

i’m sorry, mom. i’m sorry. i’m sorry.

“i’m sorry,” she audibly whispered again, a choked sob catching in her throat. the words tasted bitter, like they weren’t enough, like they could never be enough. her voice broke on the apology, and the sound of it made her stomach twist. the silence that followed it was even worse.

the room felt impossibly small now, as if the walls were closing in on her, boxing her in with her shame. she was suffocating, trapped between what she had done and the consequences of it that she could already feel closing in. the tears came faster, her chest tightening with each sob, each breath more frantic than the last.

with trembling hands, she scrolled down and found the post she had written. there it was—her confession, her betrayal, sitting on the screen, waiting to be sent out into the world.

it felt like an eternity before she could bring herself to press the button. each second stretched into infinity, like a thousand hands were holding her back, pulling her in different directions. she wanted to scream, to throw the phone away, to forget everything and run. but she knew she couldn’t. this was the only way.

with bated breath, ivory closed her eyes, feeling her heart race and her body tremble, and, with one final breath, she pressed post.

the screen flashed. her post was up.

for a moment, there was nothing. the room was still, her heart beating in her chest like a drum, the silence deafening in its weight.

then, the floodgates opened. the weight of what she had done crashed down on her, each wave of grief so overwhelming it nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. she curled in on herself, sobbing uncontrollably, the phone slipping from her fingers, the screen glowing faintly in the corner of the room.

from her position, she could see the influx of comments, each a nail in the coffin of the grave she had made. she had lied. she had denied her own mother in front of the entire world. but it was the only way. the only way to shield jennie from the relentless scrutiny, the only way to keep the world from devouring them both.

jane knew the headlines would only grow worse from here. the media would turn their attention to her, dissecting every part of her life, trying to uncover the truth. but she didn’t care. as long as they left her mother alone, as long as she didn’t have to endure the harsh spotlight again, ivory would take the heat.

and she would do it alone. there was no going back.

all she could do was sit there, curled up on the floor of the hotel room, her heart breaking with every sob that tore through her.

she had posted it. she had betrayed her mother.

and now, nothing would ever be the same.

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TAGLIST ⸺ ✶ @silantryoo @imahallucination11 @jisooftme @yerimbrit @linnnsworld @edeivveiss @urmom2314 @aespasoooool @mygfiswonyoung @yeetaberry127 @@sixflame438 @yourmyst4r @shegoswhoree @saysirhc @hwm1hyun @literallybipanic @yejiscene @gayforalll @yvsvrn @bunnywonyo @karifrogs @thefckghost @yoontoonwhs @pandafuriosa60 @somedaydream @hotluvlet @pagedpick7 @lizseos @cy8erpunkz @keiji-jin @lizseos @xszn @awkwardtoafault @hellokiraa @chicopichu @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite @lesbian4themis @literallybipanic @tjdc25 @st4r4ngel @jihyos-hoe @jxmis @phamianaz

CLOSED.

#jennie kim #blackpink #lesserafim #angst #kpop angst #original series #jisoo kim #roseanne park #lalisa manoban #kim chaewon #ivory #perfectsunlight

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everythingmp3 · 2 days ago

Text

giving in

adult!Van x fem!reader

the fact that you work for Van makes your dynamic a bit complicated - you both keep flirting, but still, you don’t know if you should act upon your feelings. then, one night, you find yourself in desperate need of company and end up at her place.

authors note: this started out as a comfort thing but turned into sth more erotic, so it’s a mixed vibe! I had fun with it, so I hope you enjoy <3 (around 5k)

warnings: smut (reader receiving), minors dni

it was around 10 pm as you wandered down the street and wondered where you could go besides back home.

you’d had an exhausting day and wanted nothing less than to return to a dark, empty apartment. the night air was punishing, freezing cold, wind hitting your face from seemingly all directions, so you were desperate for comfort, for warmth, for anything to reawaken your spirits.

you stopped by a corner, debating what to do, and felt the sudden urge to call someone. there was only one person you could think of: Van.

there were others you could have considered, but you paid them no mind, you wanted nobody else’s company but hers. the one thing that made you hesitate, was that you worked for her. it wasn’t an intense job, you just helped her out at the store about twice a week - routine work like stacking shelves and cleaning up - but over the few months you’d known her, you’d quickly developed a close bond.

it only took few days of knowing her for Van to start joking around with you, to bring you coffee when she got one for herself, to remember things youd told her and inquire about them the next time you were there. she made you watch certain classics you’d never seen before and made you report back to her, she got into heated discussions about favorite actors with you, remembered your preferences and made you little lists with films you might like.

it was clear that she liked you but you weren’t sure yet if her feelings ran as deeply as yours did because your crush on her only got worse each time you saw her.

over time it kept happening more and more when you were around her that you found yourself checking her out - when she reached up to get something from a higher shelf and her shirt hiked up, revealing the skin above her hips, when you stood close enough to her to see all of her freckles clearly, when she talked to customers and you watched her gesture wildly with her hands, her fingers always a point of focus for you.

you got the sense that she looked at you in a similar light, there was some tension there, and at times you’d almost been brave enough to ask her out but in the end you were always too nervous.

you had no idea if she had caught on by then and felt like you were giving yourself away by calling her at that hour, but your pride couldn’t keep you from reaching out; it was cold and you were lonely and you wanted to see her. it was simple. instinct.

when Van picked up, you tentatively asked her if you could come over for a second because you were close by, trying your best to sound nonchalant about it. she answered surprisingly fast "yeah, sure, come by!", and for a second you wondered why she didn’t push back more, perhaps hoping that it was her way of giving you a sign: that you weren’t alone in your desire to spend more time together.

so, about a fifteen minute walk later, you stepped up the stairs to her apartment.

Van immediately got up from the couch and walked over to greet you, pulling you into an embrace, tightening her arms after a second as as she said "jesus, you’re shaking, you’re dressed way too thin" her hands rubbing up and down your back, firmly, to warm you up a bit. you had to be careful not to rest your head against her shoulder in a way that would have felt too intimate as she held you, still, the desire was there, it always was.

"yeah, it was a bit brutal out there.." you admitted, breathing in her familiar, soothing scent, soaking up the sudden rush of having her body heat infused into your system - you could have stayed like that for much longer but Van pulled away and looked at you, searching your face for other signs of discomfort, pain. "okay, come on, let me make you a tea, that should help. I have this speciality, you know" she said, a promising grin as she walked over to the kitchen and told you to sit by the counter.

you took off your jacket and got comfortable as you watched her put on the kettle, smiling to yourself as you felt the exhaustion from the day slowly falling off, replaced by the joy of being in her cozy space, being tended to by her, even just in that small way.

as she moved around the kitchen, you told her about your day and recalled some absurd moments that might amuse her, a few quiet laughs from her here and there, little comments like "damn, okay".

a few minutes later, Van said "here, this is the trick, you add some honey and some oat milk. it’s really nice, should warm you up for good, here drink" and handed you over the finished product, smiling and watching intently as you took the first sip, without any protest or skeptical looks, a signal from you: that youd drink or eat pretty much anything she prepared for you, without protest.

you nodded as you put the cup back down on the table and said "yeah this perfect, thank you". the hot, sweet liquid spread through you in a way that loosened you up, made your face glow from the steam. you let out a deep, shuddering breath of relief, which was loud enough for her to hear and be endeared by.

"come on, let’s go sit down, get a bit more comfortable" Van said, while going over to her couch. "you sure? I mean I don’t wanna keep you up or anything" you asked, unsure if she was just being nice or actually wanted you there. she sat down and gave you an amused look "keep me up? it’s 10:30, I am not that old yet, I can handle staying up til midnight, sweetheart"

you rolled your eyes a bit and drank a bit more of the honeyed tea before walking over and sitting down next to her, conscious of the space between you, keeping it bigger than you actually wanted to,

"so, did a date ditch you or something? or why did you call me while walking around outside" she teased a bit, which you immediately denied, "no, you were actually my first choice, believe it or not", your tone a bit too sincere, her attention suddenly sharper, her gaze not moving away from your face as she adjusted her position and turned her body more towards you.

"well, I don’t know what that says about you and your social life, but I’m glad you thought of me. I didn’t think you’d feel like seeing more of me after listening to my rants earlier this week...". you had to laugh then, recalling a long tangent shed gone on about some film shed seen at the cinema and absolutely despised. "oh no, that’s very entertaining, I am never bothered by any of it" you said, leaning a bit closer too, smiling at her, noticing her scent again, only made more intoxicating by your proximity to her, the way her face looked in the dim light, her hair shimmering lightly.

for a few more minutes you sat there and chatted, the way you always did, instantly back to your natural back and forth, which somehow felt even nicer while relaxing on the couch together instead of standing around in her store - there was an intimacy to your exchange that wasnt usually there, perhaps also because it was late and the darkness gave you a feeling of privacy, that lent itself to letting your guards down a bit.

for a moment you were both quiet, just listening to the faint sound of cars outside, watching the candlelight dance on the walls, until you felt her eyes on the side of your face and turned to look at her.

"what?" you asked, quiet, curious.

Van cocked her head and eyed you for a second longer before saying "oh its just-" she stopped herself, but you insisted "come on, tell me". so, she went on, her tone unusually soft and earnest, "you know, a lot of the time, you’re so fun and easy to talk to, you get this sparkle, its really infectious, and then and hour later I will see you sitting somewhere and looking so.. I don’t know. tired. exhausted. same thing happened just now, and I never wanna overstep, really, but I do worry sometimes. about you."

her words struck you at your core, it was out of nowhere, her revelation: that she had read you exactly right, without you being aware that you were that transparent to her. you were not used to it, at all, being observed that closely, being seen in that almost painfully accurate way, least of all by her. you had been so focused on paying attention to her, that you had forgotten that she was able to the same thing, that she might have also thrown looks your way when you hadnt been aware. there was also a pleasure to it, being caught off guard, being exposed in a way, unable to hide from her.

"you worry?" you asked, almost unsure if you’d heard right, your expression slightly fragile then, vulnerable. Van nodded and kept looking at you, "yeah, kinda. I mean, it wasn’t for no reason that you came here, right."

you couldn’t deny it, "well. yeah I did have a pretty bad day”

Van touched your arm then, to soothe, but it didnt just soothe you, it thrilled you. she kept her hand there, caressing you lightly as you looked at her and said "I mean, you’re kinda..." you started, which got her attention, so she said "yes, go on", her touch still distracting you.

"you’re the only person I’ve felt at ease around lately. that’s why I called you." you admitted.

Van seemed touched, almost shy as she said "good." she realized how that sounded and corrected herself, a quiet nervous laugh, "I mean, not good that you don’t have others but...", you smiled then and reached out to touch her too in response, your hand on her knee, a hint of something in her eyes then.

"I really like you, Van. I hope you can tell" there was weight to your words. you wanted her to know. you were tired of pretending she didnt mean more to you than being your employer. you needed her to see and she did. left her at a loss for words, your sincerity, her eyes suddenly completely soft. you doubled down and took her hand while whispering "isn’t it obvious?".

she nodded, her voice low, her fingers lacing through yours. "I mean, yes, it is. I just... don’t really understand why". that baffled you. her inability to see her own appeal. "you’re funny. you’re kind to me. you’re beautiful". she flushed then, before she moved closer to you and took your face in her hands. you held your breath. a charged pause. both of you searching each other’s eyes, an urgent silent agreement before she gave in and kissed you.

there were many things Van could have said but the only way she knew how to show you what she felt then, was by kissing you the way she hadnt kissed anyone in years: eager, passionate, her lips so soft but pressed hard against yours as you both sighed at the same time, overwhelmed by by the sudden confirmation: she wants me. she wants me badly.

you held onto her and ran your hands down her back, under her shirt, to feel more of her, as she pressed you back against the couch and felt you open your mouth for her, immediately begging her to turn the kiss deeper, a moan from her as your tongues touched, both of you instantly addicted to each others taste, that animal thing of two bodies fully in tune, fitting together at a primal level.

you made out in a way that made it clear you had both dreamed of it, many times, going back in for more and more, kissing turning into devouring very quickly, her way of holding your face as she kissed you enough to make your whole body burn up, the mix of tenderness and possessiveness. she kissed you more intensely than you were used to from others, at times just breathing into your open mouth and soaking up the tension for a few seconds, before resuming the kiss.

each time you separated it only took a split second for you to pull her closer again, leaving you both breathless and dizzy as you shifted on the couch, grabbed each other all over. there was a thrill to the fact that she had years and years of experience on you, that she knew what she was doing, a security and ease to her way of handling you, like you were hers already.

a few minutes into kissing, you grew needy and started tugging at her clothes, so she pulled back and watched you breathe heavy with a hint of a smile, your hands still on her, unwilling to let go now that you had her. "let me take care of you, okay?" she uttered, while her hands traveled lower on your body, grabbing your sides as she leaned closer to your ear and whispered "tell me what you need..." one hand on your neck then, a shiver down your spine.

you whispered "can we go to bed.." your voice hoarse with need. "you sure?" she asked, still caressing you, so you grabbed her face and leaned in to kiss her cheek and sighed "yes. please Van" your breath hot against her skin, her grip on you tightening at the sound of your begging, the feeling of you almost climbing onto her lap, your eagerness hitting her right at her core - it was the final thing she needed to hear in order to abandon all restraint and pull you up to lead you to her room.

the moment you were inside, you both looked at each other and reached out, pulling each other close to kiss again while fumbling with your clothes. she pulled your shirt over your head and kissed your neck feverishly as she relieved you of your bra too, a gasp as you felt the heat of her palms on your exposed chest, a faint moan as she squeezed your soft flesh, bit down on your shoulder lightly, unsure how to handle the sudden all-consuming hunger for you.

"let me see you" you pleaded and pulled off her shirt too, after which you both wordlessly agreed to undress down to your underwear, stumbling to the bed afterwards and crawling up to get comfortable, her on her back as you climbed over her and settled on her in a way that made her thigh push up against your core, a whine as you leaned down to kiss her, your hips grinding down as she kept her hands on your lower back and moaned from the sensation of having you pleasure yourself like that, the faint dampness she could feel on her leg where you moved up and down.

you struggled to kiss her back then, which made her smile up at you, deeply pleased by your pathetic sighs and whines, whispering “you’re so pretty like this”, her hands on your waist.

Van leaned up to kiss your neck, a gasp as she did this, that made her crave more sounds from you, leaving open-mouthed kisses all the way down your pulse point, working you up before she moved her face to your tits, a guttural hum of pleasure both from her and you as she started sucking on your sensitive skin, your eyes shut as you felt yourself grow more and more desperate for her, your underwear soaked from grinding down on her thigh. you were almost scared of how far she would push you, how hard you would unravel for her, after months of waiting for it. part of you wanted, it to be wrecked by her.

Van licked over your tits in broad strokes, sloppy and eager, as you tried to suppress the moans she was drawing out of you, squirming on top of her, until you eventually wanted more and said "please... I need you." which she didn’t need to be told twice. you climbed off her, shaking with want, and switched places, so she could pull off your ruined underwear. afterwards, she got settled between your legs and almost moaned from the sight of you spread open for her like that.

Van seemed to be in awe as she gently ran a finger over your cunt, teasing you a bit, a brief touch to your clit, parting you, hearing you whimper from it as you braced yourself against the mattress.

"hmm" she hummed to herself, almost salivating as you shifted your hips a bit, "you really need this, don’t you?" she whispered, looking up at you then as she kept her finger running up and down your folds, not doing much yet but already leaving you a mess. "yeah.. I haven’t let anyone touch me since we met, I just wanted you" you confessed, which made her pause her movements for a second and stare at you.

"hm. I should make the wait worth it then" she said and used her free hand to keep your legs open as she pushed two fingers inside of you. the moment she did this, Van sighed "god.." as she felt just how wet youd gotten for her, her fingers instantly drenched in your cum, the slick heat of your cunt a heavenly feeling to her. she slowly pushed herself in until she was knuckle-deep, almost sick with want from the sight of it.

she gauged your reaction, turned on when all you could do was moan her name and let your head fall back, the feeling of her fingers in your throbbing cunt almost too much to bear at first. your sounds, the way you felt, the way you looked then, your lips parted, your neck bent, your tits on display for her, it made Van grow possessive, deeply so. there was an intensity to her that few people ever got to see as she started fucking you, watching her own hand for a second to see her fingers pumping in and out of you, slowly at first, building up a rhythm, a distinct force to her movements.

"fuck... that feels so good" you moaned and made eye contact as she nodded and kept going, her other hand gripping your knee, “such an angel for me, hm” she praised as she hit you at the exact right spot in you, your face twisted in pleasure, gripping the sheets, a stifled, barely audible "god" as you felt your whole lower half on fire from it, a deeply pleasurable ache where her fingers kept applying pressure to your walls, fucking you faster then. the thing you realized, as you got soaked in a way you never had before, was that your insane attraction to her made it feel a thousand times better than you were used to - your own touches or the touches of past lovers did not compare to it: having her, the woman you’d wanted for months, had constantly dreamed of and jerked off to, finally give you what you needed, it made you feel a kind of pleasure that almost scared you for a second, sweating and panting and close to crying for her as she kept up the pace and added even more pressure to it, her fingers curling up inside of you in a way that made you black out for a second.

Van herself was close to coming apart from the way you took her, the way you sounded and looked as you surrendered to her, fully. she guided you a bit as she felt you grow erratic and cooed "shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you, baby", the unexpected "baby" enough to make you moan even louder, almost drenching her whole hand in your juices at that point, your cunt pulsing like you had a second heartbeat.

you were desperate for release then, so you fucked yourself in a way by moving your hips to match her movements, her fingers a bit more still then as she hummed in approval and uttered "yeah that’s it. god.. look at you" her voice cracked with lust as she watched you push yourself down onto her fingers again and again, her angle adjusted to help you with hitting your weak spot, her free hand grabbing your chest to tease your nipple, as one of your own hands wandered down to your clit, to rub yourself and really get off.

"don’t stop, please" you begged Van as you kept your fingers on your clit, applying intense pressure, while hers kept fucking into you, wet sounds from the mess between your legs echoing through the room, which only turned you both on even more. “you’re close, hm?", she sighed, her own face and chest flushed, her hair messed up, her body unbearably hot to you as she sat there in her underwear between your legs and had her way with you.

you whined in response "yeah.. fuck I´m gonna come..", your hips bucking up aggressively, you biting down on your lip to prevent a pathetically loud cry as you felt the orgasm spreading from your core through your whole body in one violent shock wave - Van kept you in place and whispering sweet things as you desperately rubbed yourself and felt your walls clench around her fingers, her also moaning at that point, unsure how to survive seeing you come for her like that, hard and uninhabited and all hers. she fucked you all the way through your high, her eyes roaming over your whole body, the way your abdomen tightened, the way your muscles tensed up, a vision of pure erotic perfection to her, her own cunt soaked from it.

Van refused to move her fingers out of you until you collapsed a shaking mess, whispering "fuck...", rendered helpless by the aftershocks that were still going through you.

she stayed between your legs as she licked your cum off her fingers, which gave her a craving for more. "can I taste you. please" she asked, "can you handle a bit more?", desperation dripping from her tone, so lifted your head, gave her a nod and said "yeah okay..", a bit scared of your reaction but unwilling to deny her, eager to take whatever she was willing to give.

Van lovingly kissed your thighs for a few seconds and adjusted your position a bit before she pushed her face up against your soaked cunt, breathing in your scent as she moved her tongue up and down your still sensitive folds, before swirling it over you swollen clit.

you were still so raw that it felt overwhelming in the best way. you wrapped your legs around her head and held her in place, your hands in her hair, a moan from her as you let her push you towards another orgasm, fast. she was obsessed with how needy for her you were, the way you were squirming and crying, the way you refused to let her move an inch, the way you moaned "yes.. just like that". she licked all over you in intense strokes, pushed her tongue in deep, and sucked on your clit until you came against her mouth, weak from your first orgasm but not too weak to savor it, an almost religious experience, how utterly flooded by pleasure your body was.

you let out a satisfied "god..." as you loosened your grip on Vans head and laid there completely spent and relaxed, hot all over, your blood rushing, your face glowing.

Van smiled to herself, her chin glistening, even in the dark, and placed a few sloppy, heartfelt kisses all the way up your stomach, out of breath and high on your taste. you tangled your hands in her hair again and tugged lightly, blissed out, both of you still buzzing with desire as you pulled her closer. she gave you a lingering kiss to your forehead and she traced your soft skin, waiting for you to come back to your senses again, dazed and satisfied by her own sudden eagerness, after years of thinking she had grown numb in that regard.

Van broke the silence first by saying "I knew this before of course but. you are so fucking hot... jesus" shaking her head in disbelief as her mind was still clouded over with the way you had reacted to her every touch.

you smiled at her then, your gaze roaming her pretty face from up close as you played with a front piece of her hair and whispered "you are too. I’ve never finished like that before..". she smiled and cocked her head "no?" visibly pleased by that confession, "no" you reaffirmed and absentmindedly caressed her arm, "it’s different when you have been dreaming about it for weeks and weeks, I guess. when youre obsessed with someone", you said, purposely wording it that way, which made her blush and hold you tighter. "you’re a sweet-talker, huh. but I agree, I haven’t felt like this in... god I don’t know. forever" her tone almost wistful, emotional as she held you in her arms, the skin to skin contact endlessly soothing, a sensation you both wanted to sink into forever.

you clung to her and closed your eyes for a second, until she said "stay here tonight, okay?", which made you stare at her with a sparkle in your eyes and nod, "yes. I’d love that."

"you want a shower?" Van suggested as she sat up on the bed. "yeah, if you join" you responded, nudging her leg with yours.

so, a minute later, you both stood under the hot stream of the shower, face to face, you teasing her a bit by soaping her body up for her and letting your hands linger on her chest, giving her wet shoulder a kiss, whispering to her that you couldnt wait to return the favor. Van stood there with her eyes closed, letting you hold her from behind and said "god. where the fuck did you come from, huh" as she tried to process how heavily you were coming onto her, that you didnt just want to be pleased but clearly wanted to please her too, desperately.

she wouldn’t have assumed or demanded that you touch her in any way, but your open fantasizing about it made her curse herself for not throwing caution to the wind weeks before and kissing you in the back of the store one of the many times shed wanted to.

once you were done and went back to her room, she handed you over some of her comfortable clothes and told you to take up however much space you wanted to on her bed, before getting in under the covers next to you.

there was a giddiness to both of you as you realized that you were only getting the first taste of the intimacy you would be able to share from that point on, both the erotic aspects and the domestic, sweet ones. it had been too long for her. it seemed surreal to Van, to feel a warm body snuggle up to hers. she had to be careful not to shed a tear as you reached for her under the blanket and pressed yourself against her.

after a moment of content silence, both of you melting into a soft embrace, your head on her chest, she asked "did you mean that earlier? about feeling comfortable around me, at ease".

you nodded, tracing her outline over her soft sleeping clothes "I did yes. I didn’t just say that to make you cave." a grin from both of you as you said that. you continued "the past few weeks have been kinda draining and sometimes the only thing I look forward to was seeing you. I mean that" Van squeezed you in response, "I am very glad. you make my days much brighter too, always. but it does make me sad to think you’re stressed when you’re not here. I did get close to asking you to stay after work a few times but. well. I couldn’t figure out a way for that to not sound a bit creeppy because. you know... the age difference, me technically being your boss." that made you laugh and look up at her.

"oh, I don’t mind a creepy older boss if it’s you" you joked.

Van smiled, "right, I should have known from the way you kept staring me down" teasing you, her tone low and suggestive.

you gave her light shove under the covers, "yeah and you fully played into it, you were just pushing me to make the first move, don’t even lie". it had happened more than once that she had felt your gaze and stretched her arms, so her midriff would show, or played with her hair, or leaned over the counter in a way that lent itself to fantasy very easily.

still, she acted oblivious and said "I don’t know what you mean", her grin giving away that she absolutely did.

you reached up and tapped her on her freckled nose while whispering "sure”, after which you both leaned in for a kiss, the taste of her toothpaste making the it taste minty, both of you smiling into it.

you nuzzled up against each other then and closed your eyes, sighing in unison, your bodies devoid of all the tension they usually held onto.

"I am really glad you came here tonight. I could get used to this." Van said quietly before you could drift off for good. you slid your hand under shirt, your palm resting on her lower back, a sigh from her. "me too. you’re mine now" you proclaimed, joking but not really, since you did want her all to yourself. to your luck, Van liked it, a lot, being claimed like that, so she smiled and whispered "oh yeah?".

"hm, yeah...." you insisted, half asleep already but lucid enough to feel the joy radiate from her as she said "good."

the sleep you both fell into at the same time was heavy and dreamless, which felt fitting, since reality had suddenly taken on a dreamlike quality.

you were glad that the cold had forced you to your knees, that youd been lead by instinct that night, that you’d come to her and been received with open arms.

it was one of the coldest nights of the year but to you it ended with a kind of warmth that you couldn’t have conceived of before. in the darkness, she was your sun. your fire. your light.

#this one’s a bit heavier on the smut than the previous ones but I can never keep it brief so there’s still a decent amount of plot obviousl #van palmer x reader #yellowjackets x reader #van palmer #yellowjackets

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kitkatpancakestack · 13 hours ago

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DMV meetcute lesbians yay! I have been writing about them in an effort to break through this hellish writer's block bc they are fun and nothing hurts in this universe and I love them <3 Anywayyy it's been a bit since I shared some writing so here's a snippet, if you're so inclined:

“I appreciate the thought,” Chloe said, breaking Gabi from her spiral. “You driving me home from the hospital the other day was enough. You don’t—owe me anything.”

“It’s not—uh, whoa! What do you think you’re doing?” She more or less threw the food onto the kitchen table in order to intercept Chloe at the cabinets, where she had attempted to reach for the plates. “You had a pen literally lodged in your chest, and I thought you were gonna die on me, like, three days ago, so maybe let me get that?”

“I can do it.”

“Okay. Humor me then.”

Chloe blew a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her face. “Beer?”

Alcohol always had the potential to make this evening better or exponentially worse. A gamble she was willing to take. “Yeah, thanks.

Chloe moved to the fridge instead and Gabi grabbed two bowls from the cabinet and went about setting out the various containers of chinese food.

“Thanks,” Gabi said, as an open beer was set down in front of her. Chloe smiled and Gabi tried to ignore the weird flip in her stomach and the dryness in her mouth in favor of sticking to her new life plan, which was to not be a walking disaster. Thus far an utter failure but call her an optimist. “So, uh, feel free to take whatever you want. Looking at it all in front of me I think I went a little overboard. Eyes bigger than my stomach and all that.”

Chloe didn’t say anything, but her posture was loose and relaxed as she dragged the lo mein closer to her. They ate in silence, nothing but din of LA continuing on outside the walls. Objectively it was a fine moment, and for anybody else it may have even been content, but Gabi didn’t think she had ever been fine or content in her entire life. As it was, she sat chewing on her egg roll hoping her cool exterior did not give away the nervous breakdown simmering underneath.

You’re just . . . you’re too freaking much, Gabi! You’re too much, until I actually want to have a legitimate conversation with you, or I need you to tell me something real, and then it’s nothing! Two years together and I still just do not understand you. I think that’s what you really want, is for nobody to know you at all!

“Gabi?”

She jerked, swallowing the egg roll gone soft in her mouth, throat suddenly tight. “Sorry?”

“I asked if you wanted another beer.” Chloe’s mouth was soft and pink and her lips a little spit slick from licking them, and Gabi felt her face go hot.

“Um.” Girl don’t do it. “Yeah, that would be—thanks.”

She fought the urge to bang her head on the table as Chloe returned to the kitchen. “Listen, Chloe—” she stopped when saw a letter tacked up on the fridge with "alumni" in big blocky letters at the top, the first thing she’d seen in the apartment that had any kind of individuality or hint that an actual person lived inside. “Whoa, are you a dancer?”

Chloe frowned in confusion, but then her gaze snapped to the fridge, and a weird stiffness settled over her features. There one moment and gone the next, though. She smoothed the edges out quickly and seamlessly and settled on a more neutral expression. “Yeah, I—” She laughed, a quick burst of air through her nose, shaking her head. “I graduated from Julliard, actually. No big deal.”

Gabi thought her eyes were about to pop out of her head. “No big— are you shitting me.”

Chloe set the beer down. “No.”

“I just—”

“What?” The word was defensive, biting. Gabi walked back her excitement and dug her nails into her palms to keep herself in check.

“I could see it,” was what she settled on. “Your poise handling me during that driving test was unparalleled.”

Chloe laughed for real and that was the biggest win Gabi had earned in a while. “Yeah, you were pretty bad.”

“Hey, I am aware of my many, many faults.”

“You’re human,” Chloe rebuked. “Is this about that breakup you told me before? I’m sure your ex-girlfriend wasn’t faultless. Anyway, you saved my life, so I’d put you on my team any day.”

Gabi laughed, the sound was hollow even to her own ears. “Thanks, I guess.” She fiddled with the paper label on the beer bottle. “She, uh . . .” Gabi cleared her throat. “I’d texted her, because she’d gone to the store, and we didn’t have any milk and I just wanted to make sure that she got some milk.” A stabbing pain ricocheted through her, anchoring her to that moment, a window of time she never felt like she would be able to leave. “She left her phone on the coffee table, and it lit up, and I just glanced over at it, but she’d changed my name in the phone. It just said, ‘Pandora’s Box.’”

She remembered confronting her ex about it. Still hopeful even during one of the worst moments of her life. Yeah, Gabs, it says Pandora's Box, you know, that thing you open and then it's just, fucking disaster after disaster. Sound familiar?

Chloe’s face was measured, and Gabi felt bad that each time they got together she ended up trauma dumping on her. Jesus, she really was a mess. “I’m sorry, that’s—I didn’t come here too bitch and complain—”

“Gabi, oh my god.” Chloe reached over with her good side and covered Gabi’s hand with her own. It was a little larger than Gabi expected, seeing it up close, but soft and warm, her nails well-manicured where Gabi’s were bitten down to anxious nubs and bleeding all the time. “Didn’t I tell you she was in your rearview now? I didn’t know you back then, I only know you now. It’s okay.” She smiled, a little bigger, genuine. “I like you plenty the way you are.”

If she had been one more beer in she might have started tearing up, but even as her eyes remained dry on the inside she felt soupy and warm and soothed. It would only last as long as the evening, but it had been a while since she felt anything close to this. She clinged to it. She clinged to the slide of Chloe’s hand off her own. She clinged to the freckle perfectly dotted under the jut of her jaw.

“Thanks for dinner,” Chloe said, rising to her feet.

The buzzing under her skin made her restless, nervous, so she turned to her regular source of comfort, to the knowledge that she could leave, she could always leave, she could always disappear, if things imploded again.

And so she clung to that, too.

#kitkat writes #911 abc #chloe x gabi #DMV lesbians #idk what to tag this!!!! lol

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d-z20 · 19 hours ago

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The Ballad of Agatha Harkness Chapter 7

Summary: Agatha attempts to find Rio but there's someone else trying to find her.

Warnings: none (I think)

Words: 2.3k

A/N: It's definitely an Agatha fell first but Rio will fall harder kind of thing I'm going for. I hope you pick up what I'm hinting at with the mysterious animal.

AO3 link :)

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In Her Shadow

It had been months since Agatha’s world had been shattered and rebuilt in the aftermath of that night. Months since she had last seen Rio, yet the memory of her was like a brand, seared into her mind. Agatha had moved to a new place—a small, abandoned cottage deep in the woods. The building was old; its stone walls overgrown with ivy and moss. The inside smelt of damp wood and dust, as though it had been left to decay for years. She’d swept away most of the debris, but the thick layer of grime clung to every surface, and the air was heavy with the scent of forgotten things.

It was perfect.

The seclusion was what Agatha needed—a place to sever ties with her past and nurse the wounds left by her old life. But even here, wrapped in solitude, she couldn’t escape the shadows that followed her. She had chosen this place to find peace, yet her nights were filled with a restless longing that gnawed at her insides. The more she tried to push the memories away, the sharper they became. Rio’s voice still echoed in her ears, her laugh dancing on the edge of Agatha’s thoughts, tantalising and infuriating.

It was a rare night when she didn’t dream of Rio’s touch or wake up whispering her name into the darkness. And more than once, she’d found herself standing in the middle of the room, breathless and trembling, as if expecting Rio to materialise before her. But the shadows were empty, and the room was still.

The first time Agatha saw the fox was a cold evening, when the sun was nothing but a pale smear in the sky. She had stepped outside, hoping the brisk air might clear her head. Her fingers still tingled with the remnants of a spell she’d cast earlier, a desperate attempt to reach out across the void and find Rio. It had been foolish, she knew—spreading her power so recklessly, infused with a longing, a gnawing hunger, one Rio couldn’t ignore.

The air was thick with mist, curling around the bare trees like tendrils of smoke. As she wandered deeper into the woods, Agatha caught sight of a flash of red through the grey. A fox stood just beyond the treeline, its fur vivid against the gloom. It watched her with a stillness that was unsettling, its eyes gleaming with a strange, almost knowing intelligence. For a moment, Agatha felt her heart stutter in her chest.

“Rio?” she whispered, the name slipping out before she could stop herself.

The fox’s ears twitched, as if it had heard her. It tilted its head, the movement almost curious. But then it darted away, vanishing into the shadows with a flick of its tail. Agatha was left staring after it, her breath clouding in the cold air. The encounter left her with a sense of unease she couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just an animal—she felt that in her bones. It was something more, something watching her.

Agatha returned to the cottage, her mind racing. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the fox had been sent as a sign, perhaps even by Rio herself. The very thought made her pulse quicken, a mix of fear and excitement thrumming through her veins. She slammed the door shut behind her, lighting up the candles with a wave of her hand. The flames flared up, casting flickering shadows that danced across the dusty walls.

Standing in the centre of the room, she gathered her magic, letting it pool in her chest until it burned. She closed her eyes, picturing Rio’s face—those dark eyes, that mocking smile, the way her fingers had almost but not quite touched Agatha’s skin.

“Rio,” she called, her voice trembling. It was almost a plea, raw and aching. “Where are you? I know you’re listening. Show yourself to me.”

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, pressing in on her ears. But then, just as she was about to release her hold on the spell, she felt it—a shift in the air, a ripple of cold that brushed against the back of her neck like a ghost’s breath. Agatha’s eyes snapped open, scanning the room widely. The flames of the candles flickered violently, bending towards the mirror on the far wall.

She turned to face it, her reflection staring back at her. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes wide and feverish. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, just as she was about to turn away, she saw it—a flicker of movement behind her. The shape of a woman, her dark hair falling in waves, a smirl curling her lips.

“Rio,” Agatha gasped, whipping around.

But the room was empty. The only sound was her own ragged breathing, the echo of her voice swallowed by the silence. The mirror showed nothing now but her own reflection, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wild with the thrill of what she’d seen. It had only been for a second, but she was sure of it. Rio had been there, watching her.

Agatha’s frustration built with each passing day. She tried again and again to reach Rio, casting spells that left her drained and shaking. She whispered Rio’s name into the night, her voice filled with a yearning that surprised even her. It felt like madness, this obsession, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted to feel Rio’s hands on her skin, to hear that mocking laugh in her ear. She wanted it so badly it hurt.

Her magic had become sharper, more potent, and tinged with something dark and raw. Every time she cast out a spell, it was like sending a piece of herself out into the void, hoping it would find its way to Rio. And though she felt the faintest echoes of her power being met—like a distant caress, a whisper of laughter—Rio never showed herself fully.

Agatha began to notice the signs of Rio’s interference in her life. Objects shifted when her back was turned—a book left open to a page she hadn’t read, a candle snuffed out when she hadn’t touched it. The sense of being watched never left her, pressing down on her even in her sleep.

One night, she woke to find the room filled with a strange, cold mist. Her breath hung in the air, and she felt a presence beside her bed, so close she could almost feel the warmth of a body next to hers. She reached out blindly, her fingers grasping at nothing but empty air.

“Rio,” she wimpered into the darkness. “Please.”

But there was no reply. Only the faintest sound of laughter carried on the wind like a promise.

As Agatha walked through the forest the next evening, the fox returned. It was closer this time, standing on the path directly in front of her. Its eyes, bright and intelligent, seemed to pierce right through her. Agatha held its gaze, a shiver running down her spine. She stepped closer, her hand outstretched.

“What are you?” she asked.

The fox watched her for a moment longer, then darted into the shadows, leaving Agatha with the distinct impression that she was being led somewhere. She took a step forward, her heart racing, but stopped herself. The forest seemed to close in around her, the trees whispering in a language she didn’t understand.

She turned back towards the cottage, a chill settling over her skin. There was something out there watching her. And it wasn’t just Rio.

Agatha knew then that the game had changed. She was no longer just a player in Rio’s dance; she was being hunted by something else as well. And the realisation sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through her veins, making her crave Rio’s presence even more.

The cottage door creaked shut behind her, sealing Agatha within the musty, enclosed space that had become her refuge and her prison. She leaned against the rough wood, pressing her fingertips into the grooves as though grounding herself, feeling the grain against her skin. The cottage was old, forgotten by the world—its beams sagged under the weight of years, dust clung to every surface, and the cobwebs seemed like the only inhabitants beside her. She’d chosen this place for its isolation, but now the silence felt like it was closing in, thick and suffocating, mirroring the emptiness inside her when she was without Rio.

It had been months, but time felt disjointed, stretched thin by the hollow ache of desire that only seemed to grow. Agatha had expected the longing to fade, but it hadn’t. If anything, her need for Rio had intensified, deepening into a raw, visceral craving that made her restless, kept her pacing the small room, casting out tendrils of magic into the void.

She had called out to Rio again and again, her voice laced with desperation she couldn’t deny. The words slipped past her lips like a confession in the dead of night, her tone alternating between pleading and commanding, as though she couldn’t decide which would draw Rio to her faster.

“Show yourself,” she whispered now, the sound barely louder than the crackle of the dying fire. Her hands flexed, fingers splayed wide, as she released another pulse of energy into the room. “I know you’re listening. I know you’re here.”

The air grew cold, enough that she could see her breath misting in front of her. It was a sign—one she had come to recognise. Agatha felt the familiar rush of anticipation, her skin prickling as though it sensed a phantom touch. She turned slowly, her eyes drawn to the mirror in the corner.

“Agatha,” Rio’s voice was a low, seductive murmur that sent a shiver down her spine.

Agatha whipped around, her breath catching in her throat. The room was empty; the only sound was the faint crackle of the fire. The coldness lingered, clinging to her skin like a frost. She pressed a hand to her chest, her heartbeat wild and erratic. She wanted Rio close, wanted to feel her breath against her skin again, her voice—playful and mocking—ringing in her ears. But more than anything, she wanted to look into those dark eyes and find answers to the questions that haunted her: Did you feel it too? Or was I just another toy for you to break?

There was something else lurking alongside that need. The fox had been the first sign—its watchful eyes felt almost sentient, like it was studying her rather than watching. Agatha had tried to brush off the unease, but the sightings had become more frequent. And then, it wasn’t just the fox anymore.

A crow had started appearing, perched on the bare branches of a gnarled tree outside her window. Its black eyes seemed to pierce straight through the glass, unblinking, following her every move. Agatha felt its gaze even when she wasn’t looking, a prickling sensation at the back of her neck that set her teeth on edge. It cawed once, a sharp, grating sound that made her flinch.

The next morning, a snake coiled on the threshold of her cottage, its scales glistening in the weak sunlight. It was a vivid green, almost shimmering, and it didn’t move even when Agatha stepped closer. It simply watched her with its unblinking eyes, tongue flicking out as though tasting the air. She knew then—this wasn’t a coincidence. These were omens, signs of something coming, something closing in on her.

Agatha knelt, reaching out a hand, but the snake slithered away before she could touch it, vanishing into the underbrush like a wisp of smoke. She stood slowly, a frown creasing her brow. Her gaze drifted back to the woods, the shadows that seemed to stretch and twist, dark fingers creeping towards her home. She knew she was being hunted, but the hunters weren’t just Rio’s games anymore.

She lit candles throughout the room, muttering incantations under her breath, drawing sigils of protection in the air. The flame of each candle flickered violently, as though buffeted by an unseen wind. Her heart raced, pulse lingering in the corners of the room. Agatha glanced back towards the mirror, half-expecting to see Rio’s face, her mocking smile, but there was nothing—just her own wide-eyed reflection, a flash of fear she couldn’t suppress.

A shadow shifted in the doorway. Agatha stilled, her breath catching. The shape was indistinct, but it was there: a tall, slender figure, almost blending into the unnatural darkness. Her pulse quickened, the hairs on her arms standing on end.

“Rio?” she called, though she knew it wasn’t her. The air felt wrong, charged with a different kind of energy, something dark and predatory.

The figure didn’t respond, didn’t move. It simply watched her, a presence so palpable she could feel its eyes on her, the weight of its scrutiny heavy as a hand against her throat. Agatha swallowed hard, stepping forward, but before she could reach it, the shape melted into the shadows, disappearing as if it had never been there. The morning sun seemingly back to its usual brightness.

She stood there, fists clenched at her sides. She was no longer alone in this game. It wasn’t just Rio teasing her, toying with her desires. There was something else—another hunter stalking her from the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

But the only thing she knew for certain was this: she needed to see Rio again. Needed to feel her hands on her skin, to hear her voice mocking her with that infuriating, intoxicating smile. She would do whatever it took and push herself to the very brink of her power, if that’s what it meant. Because the only thing more terrifying than the unknown threat lurking in the forest was the emptiness she felt when she couldn’t feel Rio’s presence near her.

And that emptiness was something she wasn’t sure she could survive.

Next Chapter > coming soon

#agatha x rio fanfic #agathario #agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agatha x rio #fanfic #fanfiction #agathario fanfic #agatha all along fanfic #agatha backstory #evanora harkness #agatha all along backstory #agathario fic #rio x agatha #rio vidal x agatha harkness

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ruinedsoulsrp · 1 day ago

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Alex looked down at her, a small smile resting on his features. She looked more calm, and he could tell her breathing had returned to normal, and he was grateful for that, though her words caused his lips to twist slightly in thought. It was one of the reasons he didn't like thinking about her all the way out here by herself. Not that he didn't think she couldn't take care of herself, but he'd seen enough in his life to know that it didn't always matter what personal intentions were; there were bad people in the world, it's just the way it was. "Let's get the cameras installed and we'll go from there, okay? At least for the next couple nights I'll be here, so don't worry." His arm squeezed around her gently. "Get some sleep." Alex laid beside Hannelore, his thoughts racing until he could catch the even in and out of her breath that signaled she had in fact fallen asleep. It was like once she'd been able to fall asleep and her worries were assuaged, at least for now, he was able to allow sleep to take him too.

The brunette woke when the inhale of air came with the scent of food that caused a grumble in his stomach. He turned, shooting up when he saw Hanne wasn't in bed beside him, but the sounds floating in from the kitchen eased his moment of panic, and he let out a slow sigh, running his hands over his face and through his tousled locks. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept so well, or so soundly; the fact that she'd been able to get up and start the day without him waking definitely unusual for him. He went to the bathroom, a small smile finding his features at everything she'd set out for him for his stay, and he quickly opened the toothbrush, brushed his teeth, used the restroom, washed his hands and headed out toward the kitchen. He couldn't help but stand and watch her for a moment, though when she turned in fright and surprise, he felt a bit guilty, and a slightly sheepish smile found his lips. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya." he offered, her smile bringing his into a fuller grin as he closed some of the distance between them. He fought the desire to reach out and touch her, let his hand find her waist, press a kiss to the top of her head. The way she'd entirely and completely wormed her way under his hard exterior was still a surprise to him at times. Bright blue hues rolled at her greeting before a soft chuckle left him. "Not a hero." he corrected before nodding slightly. "I wasn't, until I smelled whatever amazingness you've got going on out here." he teased, leaning against the wall. "I'll start with some coffee though, do you need help with anything?" It wasn't like Alex could say he was much use in the kitchen, but that didn't stop his manners from offering his assistance anyway.

The ease with which Alex held her, rubbing her back, immediately put Hanne at ease. She wanted to stop herself from letting her heart race in a different kind of way, but she'd learned a while ago that Alex just had a way of giving her butterflies and had since they met. Tilting her head up to meet his gaze, she smiled a little when he reassured her, biting into her bottom lip. "I know you won't and that means the world to me... but what am I gonna do when you're not here the next time it happens?" Hannelore was sure he didn't want her to call every time this alarm went off, even if it was how and when it was happening that was really scarring her.

When Hannelore woke up, she'd all but shape-shifted into a blanket with how she'd draped herself over Alex. Cautiously extricating herself so that he wouldn't wake up, Hanne slipped into the bathroom to brush her teeth and straighten out her hair. As an avid traveler, she pulled out a spare toothbrush and travel sized shampoo, conditioner, soap, and lotion, lining it all up on the counter next to the unused 'his' sink. Smiling as she stole one more glance at him before going into the kitchen. Acts of service was definitely Hannelore's love language and having grown up taking care of her brother, she was a very good cook. Quietly making cheese-filled croissants, bacon and sausage, eggs, and toast, she hardly noticed her guest coming into the kitchen. Her hand flew to her chest, a scream silenced in a gasp, which quickly melted into a smile. "Good morning, Hero. You hungry? Want some coffee?"

#alex convo #alex ft hannelore #the way he'd be all about it lol #queue me for dinner #please do not feel like you have to match length lol

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ibrokeeverything · 2 years ago

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🌈Inner Steel

#do you ever just listen to inner steel and cry?#because i do #sally just really connected with me and something about her hit home #im not even sure why because my life isn't very similar to her situation at all #but i just saw her and felt seen in return #idk #the benefit of grief is absolutely beautiful #i wish we had a little more time to get into zane's poor coping mechanisms but im also so glad they devoted the proper amount of time to #sally #god this song is so good #some songs take a few listens for me to become obsessed but not this one #i literally heard a few lines on sally's radio and knew it was going to take over my brain #Ninjago is just amazing #it's not always perfect but its so full of heart and love and passion that you can feel #it's so tangible in the characters and their relationships #and it's beautiful ❤️#am i getting too emotional over lego ninjas?#maybe #but im not about to stop #ninjago #lego ninjago

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mad-hunts · 3 days ago

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so... i've been thinking about auriel again because i actually did have an account for her once upon a time (just on another platform) + all i can remember is doing this roleplay on there with barton immediately asking the person whom told him they saw her was whether she was okay because she had went missing with no trace for years after all. and additionally, this was also while shedding tears like there was NO tomorrow, which is 😭 like he isn't a good person, y'all, but he does have his moments where it actually seems like he genuinely cares about people

#OF MONSTERS AND MEN: musings.#ooc post.#and to expand on this i'm going back to the point that i believe i stated a long time ago about barton being confusing at times #i mean as a character OFC because he did things like take jack julien and ben in without expecting anything in return from them #man's just spotted jack and julien in particular after they'd been abandoned by their foster parent + he saw themselves in them a #little bit because at a very young age he went from having one person in his life to having none. and barton himself knows that his dad was #a POS while he was alive but he wanted so badly to be loved by him even though wesley usually never gave him the time of day #if he wasn't actively being barton's ab*ser and this made his feelings towards wesley more complicated than one could explain even #though he KNOWS that what wesley did to him was wrong and he should absolutely hate his dad for what he did to him.#it's just that barton felt abandoned by his mother + so he poured himself into his relationship with his dad BC he was all he had #if that makes any sense buttt yeah. barton taking in those two was an arguably good thing though i know that barton is certainly not #the best caretaker to say the least they wouldn't have survived on their own. and barton trying to be a better person (albeit with mixed-#results) for marcy also showed that he was willing to sacrifice some thing's for her but barton is ultimately like. the worst-#whenever it comes to impulse control + he had this bloodlust in him that was there since at least his teenage years partially #because of everything he'd seen ans went through as a kid with the other part being on him OFC BC taking responsibility is something #you've got to do no matter what but GAHHH. yeah i just... i'm thinking about my angel girl today even though she ain't a literal angel #she could just manifest wings out of her own blood or someone else's because she can make constructs out of it (blood)#tw: blood #tw: child abandonment #tw: child abuse #tw: unhealthy family dynamics.

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t-u-i-t-c · 1 year ago

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chapter xlvii

#kr saber lb #kr lb #umbrella.thoughts #umbrella.posts #the way kento was taking care of the store for touma...#the way he ran so fast to hug him when he returned #the way he was all smiles as soon as touma reached him #but of course he has to be wearing those pants just can't let them go can they #i think storious was wrapped up well i mean he saw them create a new story which was what he needed to get clarity #every megid death ended with them seeing what they wanted before passing on #once they pass on they seem to lose the immense anger they had so it seems that they were all distorted by the books power and they're #really a bit more level-headed now #i like that we get to see storious recall sharing his work with people and that it had meant something to him to though i still feel #he got buried in his despair and lost sight of how stories affect others and his relationships with others and not just him personally #it may have been a little fast but i've seen a lot of final villains and i really like storious' story #also just love everyone i don't think there was any character i really disliked throughout #with reika she made me mad but she was supposed to and she came around although it took a bit #i like her and i like how committed she is to her duty and i love her fight scenes #daishinji ryo and sophia felt like elders so i don't mind them not developing too much bc they feel like they have already grown into #the people that they are meant to be although they do develop a bit more here and there #yuri felt more like a guide for touma and i think he fit his role well while also evolving past his outdated ideas of what a swordsman is #ryoga was not developed too much but with the elders he felt like he knew who he was but for him there was development more in his #willingness to listen and work with others while also dealing with the issues of the guild and looking out for reika #he may not be very open but he has his own strong convictions and he is slowly starting to open up but just starting #rintaro and mei had a lot of good development though i do feel rintaro's stuff came across a bit much at times but in the end he became #a character who chooses to believe in himself and not run away while also protecting those around him when he used to stick to the rules #completely though he still does follow rules he does more of what is right than what is allowed #mei was an observer most of the time although she was also entrusted with tools that were important for the storyline such as the book #i love characters who don't transform and offer support when needed #mei was always expressing belief in the swordsman and offered a lot of help to them

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foldingfittedsheets · 6 months ago

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The location of the sex shop I worked was a haven for spiders. We had tall ceilings and skylights and unused storage rooms. It was a spider paradise. We quickly sussed out which coworkers to call on in case of emergency. The Dorito lady was a solid ally for spiders but absolutely petrified of moths.

But there’s actually a hierarchy of fear. Most people don’t realize. The person least afraid is the one forced to deal with the bug in question. If coworker B was scared, but coworker A was petrified, well coworker B was gonna have to screw their courage to the sticking place because by the law of fear they were the most competent person on scene.

Thus enters Rick. Rick first appeared in the back storage room. This room doubled as a second bathroom so we went in on a semi frequent basis. The girl who’d gone in to pee shot out again gibbering with fear about the biggest spider she’d ever seen had just run across her boot.

We sicced Dorito lady on it. She returned, shaking her head. “He was squatting on a power cord where it plugs in. I couldn’t get a clean shot at Rick.”

“Rick?”

She shrugged. “Spiders that big need a name. Seemed like a Rick.”

Rick, freshly named, became a store menace. I’d normally say this was probably a case of multiple spiders being mistaken for one but everyone who encountered him swore up and down there could be no mistake. This spider was massive, fast, and distinct. A gladiator among arachnids.

I never encountered Rick. His exploits grew in the telling but the theme was consistent: no one could kill him. He’d hunker in places that no one could reach and dart away when a strike missed. He also chased off the more faint hearted, charging them in bold dashes. There could be no benign cup transplant to remove Rick from the premise. He was not leaving.

The saga of Rick continued for two months. Not seeing him was almost worse, a fearful wariness when going to the bathroom or stepping into quieter areas. I waited with dread, hoping my eventual run in would have me on shift with Dorito lady to protect me.

It was not to be. There was a girl the same who hated my one moment of singing that was absolute piss-herself scared of spiders. She’d slam straight into a panic attack and couldn’t think or speak. And so it was that one night on shift, I heard her scream.

It was unmistakable. I was in the front window turning off the open sign. Through an obstacle course of mannequins and lingerie I performed an acrobatic sprint out of the window, darting up to find her quivering at the front counter, fully crying. I radiated calm at her and said, “Just point.”

I knew it was Rick. Our destinies were intertwined and we had always been pulled toward the inexorable battle that was drawing nigh.

Her hand raised to point to our sandwich board sign at the front of the store. So Rick had the metaphorical high ground. There was no quick easy strike on the slanted signs surface.

I armed myself and marched into battle, my knuckles white on my chosen weapon. I would do this, because I must. Because there was no one else. And because I wanted to close and go home.

I saw Rick immediately and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger spider since. Outside of a tarantula, he was truly the most massive spider I’ve ever beheld outside a zoo enclosure or terrarium.

We regarded each other. Rick launched off the sign toward me and I stomped my foot reflexively, making him pause in his charge. Then I raised my weapon. Anything else, I believe Rick could have evaded. He’d bested most of the store thus far. But I had chosen chemical warfare.

I doused the shit out of that spider with cleaning spray, stunning him with a barrage of chemicals. While he froze, choking on the unexpected deluge, I dropped a paper towel over him. My foot came down.

I felt his exoskeleton crunch and I can feel it still to this day. The shattering was as of bones and I truly mourned that we had been forced into senseless war. If only he has cleaved tighter to the shadows. If only he’d crawled willing into a cup for relocation. I released a full body shudder of horror, fear, and adrenaline as I stepped back.

I took several quivering breaths. I donned a veneer of calm and tidied the battlefield of it’s corpse then went to reassure my coworker that all was well, while internally I still shook.

You fought well, Rick. I hope you sired many more monstrous children to haunt retail workers in the years to come. Rest in valor, you monster.

#ramblies #ffs foibles #spiders #spider #arachnophobia #Rick the spider #story #writing #funny #sex shop

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hedgehog-moss · 5 months ago

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I saw an astronaut walking on the side of the road today, which is the kind of thing my brain will placidly accept at first, only to go "Wait, an astronaut" a minute later once I'm done with my previous train of thought. By then I felt like it might be too late to stop my car, but I ended up stopping anyway because I didn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon wondering.

I waited for the astronaut to catch up with me since they were going in my direction, but they didn't. Eventually I got out of the car and retraced my steps, and after a bend in the road when I saw no one walking towards me I decided the visitor must have gone back to their spacecraft and I would never get an explanation for this—and then in the distance I caught a glimpse of the white space suit disappearing into the forest.

I managed to catch up with them and they turned out to be a distant neighbour of mine (let's call her M.), and what looked like a space suit when I was driving by was a beekeeper's outfit! (Sorry for the pointless suspense but I was taking you on the same little journey my brain went through.) M. was tickled when she learnt that I mistook her for an astronaut—she told me she'd borrowed her husband's too-big shoes which made her drag her feet, hence why she looked like she was having trouble readjusting to Earth's gravity.

Then she said that one of her hives had swarmed, and she was pretty sure she knew where the swarm was. I had no idea how swarming worked so as we walked in the woods she explained that when a hive becomes too crowded, the queen will get replaced by a new one, and the old queen will leave along with half of the bees. After this split, the swarm will cluster somewhere nearby and wait while scout bees fly away in search of a new hive location. "That's when you have to catch them—if you can find the swarm. But here it is!"

I wasn't expecting quite so many bees!! I'm pretty scared of all flying creatures so allow me to pat myself on the back for what came next—I thought I was about to learn how to catch a swarm from a prudent distance, but M. asked if I could give her a hand, seeing as her husband was supposed to be here to help but clearly wasn't.

The first step of catching a swarm was spraying the bees with sugar water, and I was glad not to be asked to help with that, as it seemed like something that could make bees angry. ("On the contrary, it makes them less agitated!" I was told, but that remained to be seen.) Step 2 was pulling on a rope tied to the tree branch in order to lower the swarm into the new hive, and that was the job I was recruited for. The rope was long enough that I could stand several metres away to pull on it, but my role in this swarm-catching business was still all too clear to any angry bee looking for someone to blame.

I remembered reading that bees can sense the electric field of flowers, so I thought there was no way they wouldn't sense the staticky nervousness coming from the rope-puller, but thankfully they completely ignored me.

M. was offering one fun fact about bees after the other, in a very relaxed voice, which was very interesting and very soothing for both me and the bees. She said this particular colony was very sweet ("some bee colonies are meaner than others?" "yes of course"), and that swarming usually happens a bit earlier in the year "but it's been raining so much lately, the bees had to postpone all their activities, just like us" and also "swarming involves quite a bit of planning ahead of time; for example worker bees have to put the queen on a diet so she won't be too fat to fly. Did you know that?" I did not!

Unfortunately our first attempt to catch the swarm failed. The bees entered the hive, had a quick look around their new home, then left in disgust and formed a thick, angry, buzzing cloud over our heads, while I tried to think nothing but bee-loving thoughts to make my electric field harmless and friendly.

Then one after the other all the bees returned to the exact same spot on the branch where we'd first found them. ("Because it smells like the queen" said M.) We examined the near-empty hive and found that a mouse had made a nest in there! She was no longer here but the traces of her passage were evident (some of the comb was very nibbled.)

As we were removing the supplies brought in by the mouse (sticks, hay), M.'s husband joined us and he had brought a spray bottle containing some sort of bee-attracting liquid (pheromones?) (I didn't have a close look at the bottle because I made sure to stay far away from the bee-attracting liquid, while he sprayed it inside the hive.)

He had also brought a white sheet which he spread under the tree, explaining that the bees will want to get away from the bright surface and look for darkness, thus hopefully getting inside the box. Another thing I learnt is that once the queen enters the hive, the nearest worker bees will spread the message by turning round and fluttering their wings to send a chemical signal in specific directions, which will be picked up by other bees farther away; at strategic intervals some bees will light the beacons of Gondor turn round and fan their wings to relay this scent-message until the entire colony is informed of the queen's new location.

We were more successful the second time around! This time the bees who went in didn't immediately get out again to return to their branch. Well I say "we" but I didn't volunteer to pull on the rope again, so I can't claim any role in this victory. But my personal victory was that I stood quite a bit nearer this time so I could watch everything closely, and I felt more intrigued than nervous. Bees were constantly zipping past me but it had become clear that my electric field was pure and they bore me no ill will. I was always fond of bees from afar and happy to see them do their thing in flowers in the spring, but today's adventure got me interested in their daily life as well, so I think I'll read some books about bees this summer!

I was reading last month about the morality of termite colonies (Maeterlinck's La vie des termites) and I had a feeling this man must have written some poetic stuff about bees as well—and he did. Here's a translated excerpt from his book "La vie des abeilles" :)

#crawling along

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a-b-riddle · 7 months ago

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Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #angst #grovel #jealousy

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mondaymelon · 2 months ago

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₊⊹ … 99% NOT LOVE ! | kinich x gn!reader

— in which two people notice what two people don't .

— i've gone absolutely batshit over him your honour. im going to now start writing for kinich like a crazed man dying of thirst in the desert. let it be known that streamer!au kinich, enemies to lovers with poacher mc and other ideas are coming up (no im not cheating on xiao shush)

mualani notices it.

"hehe."

and you hear it.

"so! there's a little..." she stares at you with the most serious face you've ever seen on the girl, acting suspiciously unlike herself. gesturing at you with exaggerated hand movements, then pointing toward who knows where, she eyes you. mischievously. "something that's 'going on', yea?"

and at first, you have absolutely no clue what she could be referring to. mualani is a sociable person, after all. her definition of "something" could range anywhere between a particularly cute baby saurian to an out-of-control-bonfire turned wildfire.

with the only eventful thing today being a brief morning surf session with sharky, you just sat there, never having felt more lost.

mualani grabs your shoulders in an iron grip, leaning forward to the point she's almost beginning to seem menacing. you can see the moment where she tries to think over something (which she never does quite successfully) before she straight up shouts:

"ah!! i'll just spell it out for you!! you. and kinich. bestie. spill."

ajaw did more than just "notice" it.

"you..! kIINICH, did you seriously have to-"

"noisy."

"selfish assh- ALMIGHTY DRAGONLORD K'UHUL AJAW HAS HAD ENOUGH OF THE DISRESPECT! TIME AND TIME AGAIN, yOU'VE-"

"once again, ajaw. be quiet."

"sure sure, and pretend i didn't see you and that someone do a little smoochy-smooch, huh?! UGH, now you've asked for it- KINICH AND LOVEY DOVEY, SITTIN' IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-"

ajaw was what you would call a "witness". though, most would use that term in regards to one seeing a crime or heinous event take place — this event was nothing of that nature.

well, as far as kinich was concerned, the matter was simple. you'd ventured all the way to scions of the canopy to give him a gift, (claiming it was for the time he'd helped you after a couple of yumkausarus hadn't enjoyed your fruit offering and instead decided to off you), and he'd refused to accept it. he wasn't one to receive reimbursement for others, and he didn't particularly like talking either — it was a well-known fact, almost law in natlan, that if the malipo ignored your words, all you need do was apologize and continue on.

well, you did exactly the opposite.

"no thanks."

"...sorry?"

"i don't need it."

"haha, so 'malipo' kinich's rumored no-nonsense nature really proved to be true! now come over here so i can give you my fucking gift!"

you were rather adamant about giving it to him. the reason? you'd bought the gift on a whim after seeing it being sold by a passing merchant, advertised as "80% only today if you buy within the next like 4 minutes" and you'd immediately dropped every mora you had. it was the most useless little thing ever, and you didn't want it at this point, but.. the deals. how could you return such an item???

naturally, you handed it off to the man you'd seen for a good two minutes before he flew, or did whatever his thing was, away. the man had remembered furrowing his brows the slightest, listening to ajaw's persistent yellings of "IT'S AN OFFERING TO ME, TAKE IT" and feeling an oncoming headache. "i said i didn't.."

as he turned to walk away, three unfortunate(?) things occured.

a rock under your shoe and a very graceful process of falling to the ground

kinich looking back (his mistake)

a kiss...?

oh, and two extra.

4. ajaw had saw it all. 5. and mualani, who had saw you from a distance and was coming to greet you, was faced with a sight she could not process.

...Now that he thought over it again, was the matter really "simple"? kinich's job was what he considered simple — split 70% to investigation, 10% to final decision, and 10% to execution, well portioned and planned out.

then, this...

"girlie, you've seriously got the wrong idea. i'm telling you, we aren't dating!"

"mmmokay. of course! because not-dating people kiss allll the time!"

you paused for a moment, remembering kinich's even tone, stern gaze, and... ah, a face that deserved a gold medal.

"it's only 99% not love, okay mualani? but if it wasn't..."

"... and it's 99% not love, ajaw."

(a/n) darling im back from jail part 2. daddys home part 2. not funny? ok. HIHIHIHI ive bene really built like a sun dried raisin lately but kinich is the healing holy water that has saved me i will write more for him in the future because i love him a stupid amount its like the first time in a decade I've written for just ONE character and AND AND

I THOUGHT HE WOULDNT OCME HOME BECAUSE I ONLY HAD 68 WISHES OUT OF MY ORIGINAL LIKE 100+ AND RUINED MY CHANCES BECAUSE OF REALLY REALLY WANTING MuALANI (i love her sm) BUT. BUT BRO CAME HOME. ON THE FIRST 10 PULL AND WON THE 50/50 JUST LIKE MUALANI DID (or is it 45/55 now idk) LIVE LAUGH LOVE KINICH !!

[ tags: ] @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @intpessimistic

( dm or comment to be added ! i might miss ur comment so just to be sure, leave a comment on the actual masterlists page on my pinned ^ ^ )

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divinesolas · 5 months ago

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jacaerys x bethrothed!reader - grief

a.n: felt so sick after seeing the new still i needed to write smth

You were pacing in front of the door waiting for him to walk in. You had seen vermax fly over and knew he was finally back. It had been so long since you last saw him you had no clue how you were even going to react when you did.

You had no clue how he was going to react. You had not see him since he flew away from dragonstone, not before he had given you a kiss and smile promising to return shortly.

The doors suddenly hope and he walks him. The first thing you notice about him was his hair, and then you notice the confused look on his face as he glances at you then at the room full of people who look at him with pity.

“What has happened?”

It should be one of them to break the news to him, his mother or even his father but the two of them seem too distracted in their grief they were not even here to greet him.

You walk over to him and wrap you arms around him in a tight hug, he does not reciprocate it as he whispers to you asking you what has happened. You feel the way he stiffens when one of the maesters begins to speak and informs him. You pull back and stay at his side as he stares wide eyed at him, tears already glossing over his eyes. “What happened?”

You watch as he loses his composure the more and more the maester speaks. The way his breath quickens and his eyes only grow with tears. He turns away, breathing heavily out of his mouth as he grips his necklace tightly in his hands. You know being in this room with all these people is not good for him.

“All of you should leave.” You stare at the room and they all seem frozen, “GET OUT!” the room all quickly shuffles around and everyone dashes from the room. You turn your attention back to jacaerys who has bend over slightly, attempting to reach out to him but he quickly slaps your hands away.

“jace-” “It is my fault.” You shake your head though he can not see it and feel yourself also getting chocked up. “You know that is not true.”

He shakes his head and attempts to walk away from you but he stumbles and bit, you got to try and help him but he pushes you away from him. “There is nobody else to blame but me! if i had not been so foolish, to blinded i,,” He cannot continue to speak as tears continue to run down his face, the grip he has on his necklace tightens until he turns to one of the walls and lets out a loud shout as he rips it off his next and chucks it against the wall.

You quickly rush to his side as he falls to his knees and clutches his chest, when he tries to push you away this time his hands are weaker and you ignore him wrapping your arms around him. He leans against you as he sobs, his body violently shaking, his eyes tightly shut as he heaves into you chest, you can feel the tears soaking into your dress.

You rub his arms up and down and lightly rock back and forth, your own tears flow up to your eyes but you cant try now, not as you try to comfort him the best you can. You lean your mouth next to his ear and press a kiss to his temple. “It is nobody else fault other then aemonds arrogance and borros’ greed. It is not your fault my love.”

Your fingers comb your his curls as he slowly begins to settle down a little bit. You don’t know how long the two of you are sitting there on the floor, you do not care the way yours knees ache or the way your dress clings uncomfortably to your skin all that matters to you now is comforting him.

“Should we go see your mother?” He shakes his head and presses against you tightly. “How can i bare to look at her?”

“She needs you jace, just as you need her.” With your words he nods and you help him stand, he clings to you as you two walk through the empty hallways to his mothers chambers.

Before he opens the door he turns to you once more and you can see he’s clearly attempting to let out a smile but his face only contorts oddly before he sighs, “Thank you.”

You nod and give him your best smile as he turns and opens the door, shutting it quickly behind him. You walk away, fearing if you were even too close you’d be intruding on their intimate grieving time.

You finally allow yourself to cry once you enter the hall once more, walking over to the walk and picking up the pieces of his necklace in your hand, it didn't look unfixable, with some work you could repair it just as you’re sure he will be able to repair himself after this.

perm jace taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons

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lukesaprince · 6 months ago

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Ruin Me H.S

Summary: When the good girl / bad boy trope is just as hypnotic and addictive as everyone says it is OR y/n decides to get Harry's handwriting tattooed on her thigh (badboy/gang LHH trope?)

Warnings: SMUT!! oral (f receiving), edging, spanking (with hand and belt), hair pulling, squirting, masochism, dom!harry, mocking/degradation, dacryphilia, bondage (with a belt), Injuries (black eye, split lip, gunshot wound & wound cleanup)... I think that's it 😅

Word count: 13.7k+

Author's note: This is loosely and I mean SO loosely inspired by Guilty As Sin by Taylor Swift and yeah I know what that song is about but this is based off literally one line in it... I definitely got carried away with the story hehe

- Find my General Masterlist here -

You never liked the bad boy, good girl narrative. The power imbalance and toxicity that came with someone so ruined and so problematic trying to heal his soul in someone that deserved better. She would always think she could change him, that he was just misunderstood and needed someone to love him. That his soul could be healed.

It was bullshit. Until you found yourself in that exact situation, believing just that. That he was misunderstood and so kind underneath his rough exterior. You even found yourself loving the hidden hookups and midnight cleanups. A knock on your door at all hours in the night to be let in for some charged, desperate fuck or to be fixed up because he got in a fight.

You didn’t even know how it started, really. Harry was an enigma. A shadow in the wind that appeared one moment and disappeared the next on a dark bike just as mysterious as he was. That was how you met him, in a fleeting moment which at the time meant nothing. Until it meant everything.

He drove by the cafe you worked at. You were closing up for the night and locking the door when the loud purr of his bike filled the entire street. You were already on edge being by yourself after the girl closing with you had to leave sick so your head whipped around to follow the loud noise.

That’s when you saw him for the first time. He drove through the quiet street with a girl on the back of his bike that you had never seen before, both dressed head to toe in dark clothing and leather. They each had a black helmet covering their heads and yet you still knew that they were both looking at you.

It was unnerving and an interaction that had you walking a lot faster to your car in case they circled back and decided to give you trouble. Your town was used to damaged, dangerous shadows. People like Harry who came in for a night or a weekend for something illicit, only to never return.

You weren’t sure why your small town attracted people like that, but only being a 45-minute drive from the closest big city made it the go-to place for affairs, romantic getaways, illegal meetings and everything in between.

Harry was meant to be like that too. Someone who just passed through. Until he met you.

The very next day he found himself visiting the cafe in hopes you were there. Harry wasn’t sure why he felt the need to go there since he was meant to be driving back to the city the morning after his rendezvous, but there was something about your eyes that he couldn’t get out of his head.

He didn’t even know if you’d be there and yet by some chance or fate, you were. Your back was towards him, busy on barista duty making coffees for the many customers waiting for their orders. He recognised your hair first; pulled back in two long braids down your back. You wore the cafe logo on your t-shirt and this pair of jeans that made your ass look incredible.

You had no idea what the mystery man from last night looked like but you spent the night filling in the blanks of what was hidden beneath his helmet. Your brain seemed to be fixated on the stranger with some magical pull like you knew him already. Your body definitely seemed to like him already, that’s for sure.

“Harry? Americano two sugars.” You called out, sliding the takeaway cup to the edge of the counter before moving on to the next coffee. When the figure approached the counter, you went into your automatic greeting, “have a nice da-”, but the words got caught in your throat when you looked up and locked eyes with the same stranger last night.

You knew it was him instantly. There was no rhyme or reason to explain it, but you knew and he was even more good-looking than you ever could’ve imagined. With piercing green eyes and a strong jaw, plump pink lips and tattoos running up both arms that had your core clenching. The most unexpected feature of all though, was his long luscious curls pulled back from his face and running just past his shoulders.

Harry smirked, visibly seeing the wide-eyed, freeze response your body had just at the sight of him. It was a reaction he got often. He was tall and handsome and the dark clothing he wore made him appear far more intimidating than the usual curly-haired white boy.

“Thank you, love.” He smirked, grabbing the takeaway cup before casually slipping a $100 bill into the tip jar. He was walking out of the cafe without another word, looking at you over his shoulder before he was walking down the street and out of your view.

That night it wasn’t just his face you were dreaming about.

You never expected to see the handsome stranger, who you now knew as Harry, again but as the weeks went by he came to visit the cafe time and time again. It was always the same order and the same ‘thank you, love’ that had your head spinning and then he was gone with no idea of when he’d return again.

Then one day he took things a step further and asked you when your break was. It was the longest you heard him speak and the more words that came out, the more you found yourself hypnotised by the way his mouth wrapped around the syllables. Your coworkers warned you that men like him were dangerous and not worth the excitement and pleasure they always offered.

Time and time again you had helped your friends through some shitty breakup or worse with one of the travellers that rolled through town and you always promised yourself you wouldn’t put yourself in a situation like that. It was clear from the very first night that he was trouble but as much as you wanted to keep your distance, you just couldn’t.

You had never felt so mesmerised by another person before. That initial burning attraction hot enough to take your breath away. In only one sit down with him, you were ready to risk it all. He was so gorgeous and charming and sweet. The epitome of that misunderstood bad boy.

Just like his frequent cafe visits, your lunch breaks soon became his. You two would sit and he’d always ask you about yourself. You did most of the talking and he did most of the listening, never giving much away of himself. He’d show up with bloody knuckles or a bruised eye but would mask the pain and simply shrug when you asked him if he was okay.

It was starting to feel like he knew everything about you and you knew nothing in return. You wanted to know everything about him. After weeks of these little interactions, he never tried to fuck you or pursue things with you or make you feel like you owed him for all the $100 tips he left. All he wanted to do was talk and if anything, that made you want him more.

Then one night… everything changed.

You were woken in the middle of the night by a crash in your living room. That would be scary for anyone, but it was even scarier when you were on the top floor and the only access points to your apartment were the front door and the fire escape out the window.

You went into immediate panic mode, snatching the steak knife you had tucked under your pillows between your top sheet and your fitted sheet in case this very thing happened. Living alone had its challenges and one of them was the intense fear someone would break in in the middle of the night. By now you could recognise the sounds of your apartment and building so not every little creak freaked you out, but anyone could recognise the sound of broken glass and your pot plant being knocked over.

Sticking the knife out in front of you, you tip-toed out of your bedroom and down the hallway to your living room where the noise came from. Your phone was clutched against your chest, the three-digit emergency number ready to be called in case it wasn’t your cat, Mouse, knocking things over. Mouse was a fragile little thing and sometimes got scared by the smallest things. Even setting a mug down on the bench too hard could have her jumping out of her skin.

You prayed it was only her being skittish.

When you made it to the end of your hallway, you pressed yourself against the wall and tipped your head out ever so slightly to look into your living room. A whole wave of emotions rushed over you at once at the sight. It wasn’t your cat, but rather a tall dark figure holding your purring pet.

It was a figure you recognised immediately, even with his strong back facing towards you.

“Harry? What the fuck?” You hissed, turning your phone off while turning the lights on at the same time.

“Hey, bunny.” Harry flashed a sly smile, turning to look at you. You noticed the dried blood on his lip and eyebrow instantly and the swollen ball forming on his cheek. Fucking hell.

That smile instantly dropped when his eyes ran over you, taking in the ratty loose t-shirt and tiny underwear you were wearing. The t-shirt had a worn-out collar making it slide down to expose your collarbone and one shoulder. Your nipples were pressing through the thin material, all pebbled and hard from the cold air now blowing in from the window Harry accidentally broke on his way in.

Getting dressed was the last thing on your mind before venturing out here and you suddenly regretted not putting pants on at least. To be fucking fair though, you never would’ve guessed Harry would break in through your window when A. you had a very suitable front door, B. he didn’t even have your number and C. you never told him where you lived.

“What the… how do you know where I live?” You asked a little shakily, crossing your arms to cover your chest while still keeping the knife on guard in front of you.

Harry set down Mouse and she immediately ran over to you, purring while sliding her body against your calf. He walked over to you slowly and the closer he got, the worse his injuries appeared. A split lip and split eyebrow and a deep purple hue starting to form around his socket. He looked awful.

“Are you going to stab me, bunny?” He drawled, almost mockingly. You stood your ground, trying not to show your shaking as your hand tightened around the handle of the knife. His eyes were dark and he allowed himself a final drag over your body, stepping so close to you that the tip of the knife pressed into his stomach while he towered over you. “Gonna cut me open? Give me another scar to add to my collection?”

Even though you knew you should be scared, you weren’t. He found your address and broke into your house and yet physically, you weren’t the slightest bit worried that he’d hurt you. You knew nothing about him, didn’t even know what illegal venture he did for work and yet you trusted him.

Because you trusted him, your shaking was for a very different reason. Having him in your apartment all bloody and bruised and still as handsome as ever had you completely worked up. The thought of… of doing just what he teased, of giving him a scar that reminded him of you forever… god, it was so fucked up how horny that made you.

You were obsessed over a man who hadn’t even kissed you, yet knew every single thing about you. It was ridiculous. That felt even more ridiculous than playing off this entire interaction as a somewhat normal experience.

“I’ve got a perfectly fine front door, y’know.” You whispered, looking over to the broken window. You kept your knife against his stomach, even testing the waters by pressing it harder ever so gently into the toned muscles beneath his shirt. “And you’re paying for that to be fixed, by the way.”

Harry laughed, wincing ever so slightly at the tinge of pain in his face. But still, he laughed. And it was golden. “I’ll pay for whatever you want,” He murmured, smirking while looking down at the knife. “I’m sure you’re very skilled with a blade, bunny, but will you put it aside for now and clean me up instead? Need a pretty girl to make me feel better.”

You looked between your knife and his eyes, reluctantly dropping your hand beside your hip. “Come on.”

Saying nothing else, you spun around and walked into your bathroom. Harry followed closely behind, looking around your apartment with curiosity before his eyes fell on you. You pulled your t-shirt down as far as it would go, but it still rode up as you walked and he found himself unable to look anywhere else.

“Sit.” You pointed to the closed toilet and set your knife down on the bench, crouching down to get the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Harry did as told and shrugged his leather jacket off, setting it down on the bench before sitting on the closed toilet lid. He watched you intently, saying nothing as you set up your tools to sanitise and clean his wounds.

After grabbing some gauze and betadine to clean the open wounds, you soaked the material and started to clean the small gash on his eyebrow. Harry kept completely still, barely feeling the pinch. Your touch was so soft, so gentle. He found it more relaxing than anything else. Once that wound was clean, you moved onto his mouth which Harry found a lot more sensitive.

“So how did this happen?” you asked softly, dabbing his lip with the small cloth. His eyes closed as he tensed, hands fisting on his knees to stop himself from getting too worked up. Pain didn’t affect Harry, at least not in a normal way. Every sting and bite at your hand was turning him on in an inappropriate way. You were his bunny, his girl. He couldn’t get hard around you when all you were trying to do was help him.

“Oh, y’know...” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on you but not giving anything away.

“I don’t, actually.” You responded.

“It doesn’t matter how it happened, just that I’ve got a pretty girl fixing me up.” He attempted to smooth it over with a soft smile and a loving tap on your chin. It was the most he ever touched you, a little tap on your chin or a graze of his fingers on your cheek. He never touched your knee or your hand or anywhere else. It was infuriating.

“It does! You show up here in the middle of the night and break in. I don’t even know how you found my address but I’m cleaning your cuts and you won’t even tell me how you got them. How is that fair!? I know nothing about you Harry.” Your voice bordered on a sigh and a yell, exhausted with him showing up out of nowhere and charming you before disappearing again. You weren’t sure what to make of it and he wasn’t giving you any ideas on what he actually wanted from you.

“It’s better that way, y/n.” He looked away from you, leaning back so your fingers weren’t holding his chin anymore to keep him in position. “You don’t want to get involved with me.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. You show up constantly and-and what? Have lunch with me? Get to know me? You can’t do that and not expect me to want to know something back.” You expressed frustratingly, shoving the first aid items into the small bin beside your cabinet.

“I want to keep you safe, y/n.” He stood from the toilet, sighing when you refused to look at him. “The less you know about me, the safer you’ll be.”

“So why do you even keep coming back if you don’t want me involved with you? It’s killing me!” You snapped, looking up at him accusatorily.

“Because I can’t stay away from you.” He whispered, sliding his hand over the side of your neck. Your breath hitched at the touch, your body automatically leaning into it as he rubbed his thumb over your jaw and towards your mouth. Oh. “I’m so fucking obsessed with you it’s unhealthy. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time, y/n.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Tears pricked at your eyes, “you’re so confusing Harry because you look at me like that and say things but you don’t even touch me. You haven’t kissed me or-or anything. Just tell me what you want from me so I know where to set my expectations.”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you?” He cocked his head, turning your bodies so your back was to the basin. His hand looped to the front of your neck and it was like every cell in your body suddenly put their focus onto him. You couldn’t breathe or think or move or anything. Not when his large ringed fingers were wrapped around your neck like he was carrying a trophy. A prize to claim. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”

Harry pressed his hips into you, eliciting a gasp when you felt his long, hard cock pressed against you. He used his hips to nudge you against the cabinet, pinning you there so you couldn’t go anywhere. “All I think about is kissing you. Kissing your lips and your neck and… everywhere. The things I want to do to you y/n are so unsavoury your pretty little head would explode.”

He always thought you were this pure… innocent angel. One of the rare people in the world with no ill intentions. You were polite and sweet, even after Harry significantly brought you out of your shell since he met you. You were studying to be a nurse for Christ’s sake, some of the purest of the pure.

He wanted to ruin you. He wanted to take that innocence away more than anything on this planet. It was his built-in fucked up default program. To want what he couldn’t have. To want to destroy everything around him.

But he couldn’t do that to you. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, even if it hurt him in the process. Harry had no light in his life, no hope until he met you and he knew that the moment this became real he would destroy you. His life would destroy you or Harry would do something to fuck it all up and he’d hurt you.

He’d break your heart.

“It won’t.” You rushed out, “It won’t explode. I… I want it.” You could barely articulate yourself. Not when his whole body was pressed to yours. All you had been thinking of for months was having him completely dominate your body. Just to touch you and please you. Even if it was only one time before he disappeared from your life forever.

You needed it.

“I’ll ruin you.” He promised, leaning in closer so his nose bumped against yours. He breathed out a ragged breath, feeling so close to completely giving in to his desires. All of them. “I’ll destroy every good thing about you, y/n. You don’t want that.”

The scariest part of all… was that you did want it. You were becoming the exact person you didn’t want to be. A good girl sacrificing herself to save the soul of someone who might never be saved. But you believed Harry would be saved. You could fix him. Help him to get away from whatever life he lived that made him hurt so badly inside.

You wanted to save him.

“I do. I do want it.” You nodded desperately, grabbing his other hand to guide it towards your clothed mound. You pressed your hand over his, using your own fingers to press his against the silky wet patch on the crotch of your underwear. He swore under his breath, taking the initiative to stroke his fingers along the wet material. “Ruin me. Please.”

So he did.

He ruined you over and over again that night and for many nights after. It completely changed everything for you two. Like it was the last barrier stopping you two from being completely open with each other. You had always told him the things you told everyone else. Your likes and dislikes, the show you were watching, your workplace drama.

But your desires… your needs and wants. They were reserved for no one but yourself. Until he came along.

Harry told you he’d ruin you and he stuck to his word. The things you did together were dirty and depraved and left you with such a feral need for the man, you would’ve let him do quite literally anything to you. As would he, you. And you practically had. Every desire or curiosity was sated and he was willing to do anything to satisfy you.

Harry became as violently obsessed with you as you did him and even though it was a hell of a trip to see you, he did so as often as possible. He couldn’t help himself. Not when he had such a pretty girl waiting to please him and take care of his heart, body and soul. You filled the hole in his life in all aspects, which is what he feared would happen when he saw you that very first night.

Someone so magnetic would ruin him and he was enjoying every moment of it.

You had no idea he traveled from the main city just to see you until you two started sleeping together. He continued stopping by for a coffee or to disturb your lunch break but very quickly, your time spent together turned into an after hours activity. He’d come to get fixed up and then he’d ruin you. Or… his sole intention was to ruin you all along.

There were many sleepless nights because of him. Not that you minded. He opened up to you more and told you more about himself and what he did. When you started to learn small things, you realised that he was probably right in you being better off left in the dark. It was a lot more elaborate than you could’ve imagined and it made sense why he did so much to keep you protected.

Running an elaborate drug smuggling operation wasn’t exactly the safest job out there, nor did it give you much opportunity to switch careers. Somehow, though, you weren’t deterred by it. Maybe it was because you were already in love with him the second he ruined you for the first time.

His high job security didn’t stop you from fantasising about a different life with him. Harry leaving that life for you. The only part of the job Harry liked was the financial stability and the power. The control he had. But you felt like Harry was destined for so much more, that he could live a much happier, safer life. With you.

“Have you ever thought about running away?” You asked, playing with his long hair. It was unruly and sweaty and you were threading your fingers through the knots formed from the midnight hookup. You were still hot and sweaty too, but Harry quite liked the sticky feeling of your skin and the lingering scent of sex in the air.

“Running away? I couldn’t.” Harry breathed through a laugh like it was unfathomable. “You couldn’t either.” He looked up from his work, reaching for your hand to bring it to your mouth to kiss your knuckles. “You’ll be a nurse soon and you’ve always had your heart set on Mercy. You’ll get a job there and it’ll be everything you want.” He smiled softly, guiding your hand back to his hair so you’d play for it while he finished the artwork on your upper thigh.

The thin marker was steady in his hand and he only had one letter left before the piece was complete, not that four letters took a particularly long time to write. But he wanted it to be perfect, for the permanent marker to last as long as possible on your pretty skin. You’d never do it permanently, after all you were still his good girl and no good girl would be as rogue as to get her lover's handwriting tattooed on her thigh after only a few months. Or ever. Permanent marker and baby powder always did the trick to make a design last a while, though, and Harry hoped it would still be there the next time he snuck through your window.

“I want you, Harry.” You whispered, finding his concentration both adorable and so damn sexy you were getting all worked up again. If he looked a little to the left to where your bare cunt was so so close to his fingers, he’d probably be able to tell too. “And the good thing about being a nurse is I can do it anywhere. I can…” you swallowed your nerves, unsure what his reaction would be to your suggestion. “I can work anywhere and-”

“It wouldn’t work, y/n.” He interrupted curtly, leaning back to observe his work while putting the cap back onto his pen. Harry rarely used your name, he was too fond of his pet name for you. “You will always be mine. Always. But I think we both know that what we have is temporary.” Your heart broke at his words and you felt the pain fizzle through your body like a burning liquid. He looked up at you as he blew on the temporary tattoo. “When I inevitably break your heart, bunny, you’ll move on and find someone who can love you the way you deserve. I’ll never move on from you, but you will and you’ll be happier for it.”

“That’s not true.” You all but whimpered. Harry ignored your plea, tapping against your skin to test whether the marker was dry. “You always say that you’ll break my heart, Harry but that’s not true.” He looked up at you for a moment, trying to hide the heartbreak he felt at seeing how sad you were. Grabbing the little bottle of baby powder, he sprinkled it over the little word, massaging the surrounding area of your leg. “I… I love you and I know you love me. If you loved me you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Bunny, I love you more than anything else on this planet.” He assured, shifting up onto his knees in all his naked glory. He spread his hands over your belly, rubbing his thumbs a little harder into your skin. “I would never do anything to hurt you but this life… it follows me wherever I go. There’ll be a time where I need to sacrifice my love and happiness to protect you. But you’ll always be mine. Until the day I die.” He smiled softly, looking back down to the pile of powder on your upper thigh. He ran his thumb over it, rubbing away from the white substance and leaving the matte four-letter word.

Mine.

“See?” He smirked, looking down at the ‘tattoo’, “I can’t promise you forever, bunny. But I can promise you that I’ll be yours at least until this fades. Who knows what could happen by then.”

You sat up, pressing your hands behind you on the bed for balance as you looked at his artwork. There was something so sexy about being branded like that, even if it was temporary. Your otherwise empty skin now looked complete with his mark there. In his handwriting.

What other sign could be more clear that you belonged to him than his handwriting on your thigh stating just that?

“I love it.” You whispered, tracing over the cursive letters. “Will you be back?” You settled on asking, pausing for a moment, “before the tattoo fades?”

That was one thing that troubled you about your relationship with Harry. The fact that you never knew when you’d see him again. You both openly professed your love and obsession for each other and yet you didn’t go on dates or text or call. Harry just showed up.

He told you it was to keep you safe. It was the very same reason he snuck through your window instead of knocking on your front door. There was less chance of anyone finding out about you. Whoever ‘anyone’ was.

Harry nodded. “I should be. I’ve got a job this weekend though so it might not be for a little longer than usual.” He plastered a soft smile on his face to calm you and reached out to cup your face. “Better make sure it’s still here when I get back. Okay, bunny? Unless you want me to mark it on your skin another way.” That smile tilted to a smirk, promising you foreplay that both of you knew would have you begging him for release.

This time you nodded, “I’ll be good f’you.”

Shit.

“Good girl, Princess.” Harry cooed, looking down briefly at his own cock, already hardening even after filling your mouth and pussy with his cum. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your naked body was so gorgeous and now marked with his handwriting. “now c’mere.”

You smiled, shifting up on your knees to join him halfway in a searing kiss. It was nearly 2 am already but you knew that you wouldn’t get any sleep at all.

The days that followed were restless. You kept looking at those four letters on your thigh and thinking of all the things you had and hadn’t done together. The many trysts you shared with hushed conversations and messy top lip kisses. How his hands felt on your body and his lips on your skin.

You had no idea how long it would be before he came to the cafe or broke into your apartment again. There was no word from him or rumour that he was passing through town. The shadows that liked to drift in and out became known the moment they visited more than once and Harry… well he had become a regular now.

The next time Harry snuck into your apartment, bordering on an entire week after he wrote ‘mine’ on your upper thigh, you were ready. You weren’t sure why you knew because sometimes you had no idea until you felt his presence in your bed. Mouse didn’t even meow or run in fear when he entered through the window anymore, making his entrance sometimes as silent as wind whistling through an empty street.

But tonight… you knew.

There was a shift in the room temperature and a lingering scent of tobacco in the air that had your core clenching just at the thought of him visiting you. Of him seeing the surprise you had for him. It was all in your head of course, a delusion brought on by obsession. Still… you knew.

And just like clockwork, you heard the sound of your window sliding upwards just past midnight. He thankfully hadn’t broken the glass since the first night, but for him to just slink in you had to keep the window unlocked. Before meeting him you obsessively checked every lock on every window and your front door every night, fearing that one of the shadows coming through town would try and hurt you.

You’d think that getting involved with someone like Harry would make that fear worse and yet… it didn’t. Somehow you felt safer. Harry once made a passing comment about keeping an eye on you, that he always knew if you were alright. He didn’t have to elaborate for you know that meant he had hacked into security cameras or had someone he trusted watching your apartment at all times.

6-months-ago-you would’ve been creeped the fuck out. Scared for your life that you’d allow one of the shadows to get you so hooked on him, you’d let him have a security guard of sorts around you 24/7, or even just the fact you let him so casually break into your apartment. It made total sense to you somehow because with all the theatrics and abnormal parts of your relationship came the love and happiness you got when you saw him.

Even though it was most likely your lover opening your window, you still fished for the knife under your pillow, now replaced with something pink and shiny and far more deadly. Harry decided that if you were going to protect yourself, you needed something more dangerous than a serrated kitchen knife. You treasured that pocket knife and you and Harry have had a lot of fun playing with it.

“Harry?” You whispered, creeping down your hallway.

“It’s just me, bunny.” His voice echoed, low and husky.

You smiled, rushing out to find him pushing your window back down and locking the latch. His hair was pulled back into a bun, sitting messily at the back of his head and he was wearing his classic leather jacket and dark jeans. God, you had missed him.

“You really need to start locking your window, y/n.” Harry drawled, turning around to face you. “A madman might try to break in and hurt you.”

You giggled, throwing your pocket knife on your rug carelessly to pounce on him. Literally. He smiled and caught you easily, letting you wrap your legs around his hips while your arms wrapped around his neck.

Your mouths joined almost instantly, lips brushing against lips in a heated exchange. You threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged until his bun came loose and his hair fell to his shoulders. He groaned at the feeling and ran his tongue against the seam of your lips, nibbling down on your bottom lip.

“I missed you, madman.” You whispered once your lips broke, shifting in his arms. His hands supported your bum, squeezing while he devoured your mouth once more. His body was sore from his weekend job, but he’d never let that get in the way of having his girl in his arms.

“I missed you too, bunny. So much… I couldn’t breathe without you.” He murmured, setting you down with a little wince. You noticed it immediately and ran your hands over his face, angling his head around to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bruised on his face for once, but you knew he was hurting somewhere.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?” The questions came out spitfire, making Harry smile down at you and set his hands on your hips. Your eyes found a dried substance at his collar and you recognised what it was immediately. “Is that blood?”

“Not mine.” He assured, “I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry.”

You ignored his assurance and started running your hands over his chest, looking for any sign of pain or visible jerk out of tenderness. When your fingers grazed his lower abdomen, he couldn’t hide the clench of his jaw. You glared up at him, pressing harder against the spot so he’d feel a little payback for lying to you.

Harry groaned and dug his fingers into your hips, ensuring it was hard and painful enough to leave a bruise. You didn’t mind though, in fact, you quite liked it.

“Jesus Harry, you got shot!?” Your eyes widened when you tugged up his t-shirt to find a bloody gauze. You knew what it was immediately. You had seen your fair share of bullet wounds in your work placements at the hospital as well as the dodgy ways they tried to mend them themselves. “When did this happen?” You decided to peel off the gauze to see the wound for yourself, not trusting the temporary mend he had done. The wound had been stitched up quite well actually, but it was inflamed and a few stitches had broken. It needed to be mended.

“Did it go all the way through? Is the bullet still in here? Why didn’t you tell m-”

Harry interrupted your second spitfire of the evening by pressing his lips to yours. It was quick to shut you up, especially when he slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth and dominated his way in. His tongue slid against yours, tobacco and whiskey heavy in the kiss.

You whimpered against his mouth, almost forgetting about the bullet wound until you felt its blood soak your fingertips. Pulling back, Harry tried to chase your mouth, needing you violently. Insatiably. He had missed your soft skin and your delicious mouth and especially missed your sweet sweet pussy. One he had a severe craving for. He could almost taste it on his tongue.

“Bathroom. Now. Your stitches are busted.” You pushed your finger to his chest and he easily backed away. He was completely whipped by you, willing to do anything you told him.

“Alright, bunny. You’re the boss.” He murmured, shrugging his jacket off to dump it on the couch before following you to the bathroom. You both followed the same routine as always. He sat on the closed toilet seat and you readied your supplies to treat his wounds.

“Top off.” You instructed, using a lighter to sanitise the end of the needle you threaded already.

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, stifling a groan as he grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt off his head. “You’re feisty when you’re mad.”

“You shouldn’t have lied to me.” You shot back, sanitising the scissors next with your betadine.

“It’s just a bullet wound, bunny.” He tried to soothe, watching you approach him and rub the wound with betadine in preparation to cut his original stitches and do new ones. “Didn’t even go straight through me.”

“So the bullet’s still in there? Jesus, Harry. Why didn’t you go to the hospital? I’m not equipped to remove a fucking bullet in my bathroom.” You snapped.

“It’s not in there, y/n. One of my boys removed it, okay?” He chuckled softly, both loving and hating how worried you were. He reached up to cup your face, “I’m fine. The only thing wrong with me is a busted stitch.”

You ignored him, keeping your glare strong on your face. His hands dropped to his knees and he remained completely still while you worked on the wound. He hated that permanent crease on your brow and all he wanted to do was make it go away.

“What’s wrong?” He nudged, poking at your leg when you stayed completely silent. You were in your usual oversized t-shirt, underwear combination, but this particular t-shirt was long enough to cover your bum and the tops of your thighs. “C’mon bunny, talk to me.”

“You’re distracting me.”

“And you’re ignoring me. I don’t like when you’re cross with me.”

“Well I don’t like being left in the dark for an entire week and when you show up you’ve been shot.” You snapped, pulling the needle tighter than you’d usually do to make a knot, just so it hurt a little more. He clenched his jaw, but he was more concerned about you than the temporary pain of his stitches. “What if you died Harry? Then what? I would’ve…” you looked away to grab the scissors, trying to blink away the tears. When you returned, his gaze was soft. “I would’ve never known. You would’ve left me and I… I’d never know.”

You couldn’t even focus on his wound with how hard your hands were shaking. You managed to cut the excess thread, but the moment it was done Harry pulled the scissors and needle out of your hand and brought your shaking ones to his.

“Y/n, I’d never do that to you. Never.” Harry scanned your face, reaching up to cup you to get you to look at him. “I didn’t mean to scare you, bunny.” He wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck, gently pulling you down to rest your forehead against his. “I should’ve told you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You agreed, unable to stop a few tears streaming down your cheeks. “You’re an asshole.”

“I am.” He nodded, trying to kiss you until you turned your head away from him. “I fucked up. I’ll never, ever do that again. Never.” He promised, tipping his forehead to your cheek while threading your fingers to press your hand against his racing heart. “My heart belongs to you forever.”

“I’m yours, Harry.” You promised, pulling back to wipe your tears away and get the bandage to cover his wound. He sighed and grabbed your waist instead, pulling you closer between his legs so you wouldn’t go too far. “But I need… I need something. I can’t keep waiting for you to show up with nothing in between. I can barely sleep when you’re not here.”

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll get a burner. Untraceable. Just for you and me.” He suggested, “You’ll never go a day without hearing from me again.” It was a promise. An oath. He never wanted to be the cause of your tears again, even if he knew he would be. It was why he didn’t want to keep your hopes up about a future, even if he wanted it more than anything in the entire world.

“You promise?” You asked, running hands over the placed bandage to seal it in place. He nodded, looking up at you with a soft smile. You hated how easy it was to forgive him. But you loved when he looked at you like that. Like you were his entire world.

“I promise. Cross my heart.” He murmured, running his hands over your waist and hips, “now will you stop being mad at me and give me a kiss?”

Harry stood up, overpowering you with his height. Using one hand on your waist, he nudged you against the basin and used the other hand to cup the side of your neck. His gaze was dark, eyes blazing with a need to please and be pleased. He was hungry for you, just like he was since the moment he got on his bike to drive down to see you.

“Please, bunny. Let me make it up to you.”

All you could do was nod.

Harry was easy to succumb to your influence, easy to follow instructions and do whatever you wanted. But he was just as easy to overpower you, to dominate you. To get you reduced to nothing but a whimper and a nod of your head.

He was quick to duck in and clasp your lips together. It started slow and steady, a languid dance of your mouths that turned into something far more passionate. It always did. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, threading his fingers into your hair to move your face in the direction he wanted while he nibbled on your bottom lip and slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

You let him in easily, loving the slow, deliberate slide of his tongue against yours. That familiar tobacco mint flavour was heavy in the kiss, a mix of the cigarette he no doubt had before climbing up the fire escape and the mint gum he liked to chew on to try and curb the habit. It never did work, but you liked the taste of him trying to stop the nasty addiction.

You pulled him closer by his hips, digging your fingers into the slight pudge just above his belt. It was one of your favourite parts of him to kiss, to bite. You had dug your teeth in it so many times Harry was tempted to get a tattoo of your bite so he could remember the feeling of your teeth sinking into him forever.

“Wanna taste you, bunny.” Harry groaned, tucking his hand under your shirt to fiddle with the band of your lace underwear. Your hips bucked up to meet the touch, desperate to get him doing more than just play with your underwear. “Missed the sweet taste of you on my tongue.” He kissed you softly, dragging your bottom lip back between his teeth until he released it with a pop. “Always dream of it when I’m away.”

“I guess what’s one way to apologise.” You breathed, sighing when he pinched your thigh. He tucked his hands under your ass, hoisting you up so you’d wrap your legs around his hips.

“Mhmm. I’d happily die apologising to you. Over and over.” He had this smirk playing on his lips, but you didn’t particularly find it funny.

“Don’t talk about dying.” You reprimanded softly, playing with his hair while he carried you to your bedroom.

“Not even if it’s death by your sweet pussy?” He grinned, lowering you onto the bed. You shuffled upwards, rolling your eyes as he knelt on the bed to hover over you.

“For someone who gets shot for a living, you have the humour of a 13-year-old boy.”

“And you don’t like that?” Harry raised his brow, grinning while leaning in to kiss you. You hummed into the kiss, tugging on his hair until his groan rumbled into your mouth. He pressed his weight against you, ensuring you felt every inch of his arousal for you.

He could feel yours right back. How wet you were, how warm your pussy was pressed right against his jeans. You had properly soaked through your lacy underwear and Harry could feel his jeans slowly dampen from the way he was grinding his hips against you. It was heaven. He could hardly wait to get his mouth on your sweet little cunt, especially when you were already so worked up for him.

“Your humour is only funny…” you paused to gasp, head tilting back so Harry could nip down along your neck. “…sometimes.”

“And you’re sexy all the time.” He murmured, simultaneously pushing your oversized t-shirt up while kissing downwards. He ran his hands over every inch of exposed skin, pushing the shirt above your breasts so he could clasp his lips around one of your nipples.

You took the shirt off immediately, whimpering and bucking your hips to meet his while you scratched at his back. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud, tugging and sucking hard enough to make your head spin. While he assaulted your nipples, his hands ran over your belly and hips down to your thighs spread wide underneath him. It was only when his fingers crawled to your very inner thigh ready to tease you through your underwear that he felt the thin film of plastic.

“What’s this?” His movements stopped immediately as he felt over the thin plastic film. You whimpered at the sensitivity, feeling particularly sore after your adventure yesterday.

“I did something and you can’t be mad…” You breathed, watching him sit back on his haunches.

His eyes widened when he got a better look, resting his hand on your thigh while he ran his thumb over the four little letters now permanently marked on your skin. Harry was no stranger to tattoos, he was practically covered in them. But the last thing he ever expected was for you to make your temporary tattoo last longer by making it permanent.

His handwriting. His claim. Harry permanently etched on your body forever.

“Bunny…” Harry murmured, looking between you and the tattoo. “What did you do?”

“You said you couldn’t promise me forever but you could give me until the tattoo fades…” His eyes focused on you and you felt yourself already becoming pliant just with the dark look on his face. “...now it’ll never fade.”

He said nothing for a moment and just stayed staring at your tattoo. His eyes drifted upwards ever so slightly to where your pretty lace underwear was pressed snugly to your pussy. Then he looked further upwards to your soft belly and your perky tits and finally… to your face. Your pretty eyes and your lips, the lips he loved to kiss more than anything.

Harry was back over you in an instant, cupping your jaw while kissing you like he was ravenous for it. You whimpered into it, tugging on his hair until your lips parted in a gasp.

“Can’t believe you did that, bunny. Got a fucking tattoo so I’d be stuck to you forever.” He murmured, smushing his mouth to yours again. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Force my hand so I’d be yours forever.” He started to kiss back down your body again, making sure his tongue pressed against your skin with every touch.

“I love you. I want… I want to be yours forever.” You whimpered, watching him settle between your spread legs with an evil smirk on his face.

“And you thought a tattoo was the right choice? Hm? You thought letting some other man permanently alter your body was the way to go?” He dipped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tearing the lacy material in two. He was completely rough with it, making sure it ached as he pulled torn pieces off your body.

“It wasn’t a man. She… shit.” You couldn’t even find the words, not when he spread you wide and stared at you like you were some fine dessert.

“You think that makes it better, bunny? You think who did the tattoo makes a difference?” He raised his brow, running both his thumbs up your outer labia to tease you.

“I told you not to be mad.” You whined, pressing your hands to your face.

“I’m not mad. I think this is quite possibly the hottest… most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” You peeked through your parted fingers, looking down at where he was looking up at you, spreading his hands to kiss at the thin layer of plastic. “So fucking sexy.” Harry murmured, looking down at it in awe.

“So why do you sound mad?” You whispered, looking down at him.

“I’m not mad you got a tattoo, I’m mad I wasn’t there. Didn’t I always say I wanted to be there for your first one?”

“Well yes but-“

“And didn’t you promise me that I would be?”

“Yes…” you swallowed thickly. He was speaking at you in such a condescending way. Like you were a child being taught a basic lesson for the first time. It was belittling.

It turned you on in such a feral way. He could even mansplain anything and you’d be happy to play into it. As long as he sounded like that and wound up between your thighs afterwards he could speak to you however he liked.

“So you went against your word, hm?” He smirked as your thighs trembled on either side of his shoulders, your body growing more and more sensitive and needy as he started tracing over your pussy.

“I guess so.”

“Do I go against my word? Have I ever broken a promise before?”

“Yes.” You tried to defend, knowing very well he always stuck to his word. Harry had never broken a promise to you. Not when he told you he’d be back in three days or when he didn’t know but promised he’d return to you safely. He always kept his word.

To be fair though, it was hard to stay clear-minded when he was caressing your pussy like it was something cute to pet. It wasn’t. And with every stroke of his fingers, every slide through your crease to spread your arousal up to your clit before coming straight back down like he didn’t even know what a clit was, your mind was spiralling. He was killing you.

“Oh really?” He nudged a finger to your entrance, pressing just hard enough to slip the very top inside of you. You always were the most sensitive at your g-spot then right here, at the very beginning where all your nerves were alive and your pussy was clenching around nothing because you needed something inside. Specifically Harry’s cock. “Tell me. When?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit and finally slid his finger inside of you, eliciting the prettiest whine.

“Um… Uhh…” You couldn’t speak or think with his tongue slowly sliding over your clit now. He traced languid circles and waves, taking complete control and doing it all at his own pace. Harry was tasting you for his own pleasure more than he was yours, even if he did love the way you came for him.

“Exactly.” He smirked, “So let me take my time with you. I’m owed that, aren’t I?”

“I thought you were meant to be apologising to me? This feels like an unfair system. A bullet wound is more serious than a tattoo.” You complained, sliding your hands into his hair to try and drag him closer to you.

After being away from him for so long, one of the longest times apart since you started dating-or whatever you two were, all you wanted was to feel him. You wanted his pleasure and the weight of his body on top of you. Teasing wasn’t fun when you were apart more than you were together.

You prayed that would change after the gesture you made. The permanent commitment to him.

“Which one is permanent?” He grinned lazily up at you.

“You could’ve died.” You argued.

“But I didn’t. Now will you stop complaining otherwise I’m more than happy to stop. It’s been a big day I could easily go to sl-”

“No!” You jumped a little too quickly, making him laugh and press spongey kisses against your inner thighs. “No… no, please. I’ll take whatever you want. I’ll be good.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, pressing his fingers into your fresh tattoo. You gasped, clutching his hair tighter in your hands. “That’s what I like to hear, pretty girl. Besides, I think letting me take my sweet time tasting you is the best punishment out there. Don’t you think?”

Harry pressed a few chaste kisses along your thighs, feeling just how tense you were. You were clenching around his finger and holding onto his hair tight so he wouldn’t move away. But he couldn’t have you so tense… he needed you to relax.

“Calling it a punishment scares me…” you whimpered, feeling his tongue slide over your clit in a sloppy figure-eight pattern.

“mh… just relax, bunny. Stop thinking and let me take care of you… you’re my girl, aren’t you? My sweet, delicious girl. My girl?” He ran his thumb over your tattoo, speaking right against your clit like he was talking to your pussy instead of you.

“Mhmm.”

“Then relax… you deserve to be spoiled after all you do for me…” Harry looked up at you, smiling as you forced your body to melt into the bed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back when his mouth returned to your clit. He gently added another finger inside of you, curling them both into your g-spot in a steady stroke. They felt so deep inside of you, nowhere near as full of his cock but still so so good.

The combination of his tongue and his fingers were driving you crazy, but he did them in such a relaxed, languid way that you knew it would take you ages to cum, if he even let you.

“See? ‘S nice isn’t it?… you always take care of me, bunny. Always clean my wounds and take good care of m’cock… m’heart too…. Always make me feel so happy.”

“You make me happy too… scare me a lot too…” You sighed, fisting his hair as he grazed his teeth over your clit.

“I don’t mean to,” Harry murmured against you, kissing against your clit in an infuriatingly light touch. “Only want to make you feel good… feel safe…”

“You do… you do… just-fuck, please… More… Harder.”

He smirked at your begging, the whiny tone in your voice going straight to his cock. Barely a couple minutes into it and you were already getting desperate. Already tugging at his hair and starting to wiggle.

He loved you like this because he had the ultimate control over whether or not he gave you what you wanted. At this point, it could go either way.

“Not yet sweetheart, ‘m having too much fun just like this…”

Your back arched when he pressed his fingertips into your tattoo, purposefully digging into the soft skin. It was a small tattoo, tiny in comparison to half of Harry’s work but you had a relatively low pain tolerance and your very inner thigh was quite sensitive. It was torturous paired with the way his tongue softly stroked against your clit.

“Please, Harry…” You begged once more, using your hands in his hair to try and drag him closer to you. You were writhing beneath him, desperate for something more than just light teasing shapes. You could barely handle it anymore.

“Ah.” Harry tutted, slipping from your clit with a little pop of his lips. He grinned up at you, mouth and chin all soaked and dripping before pulling your hands from his hair to push them down on the bed beside you. It was possibly one of the most erotic things you had ever seen. “Y’know I like my hair pulled, bunny but if you keep pushing it, I’ll make sure you don’t cum at all. Let me enjoy you.”

“Okay…” You nodded quickly, hoping he wouldn’t stop altogether. “m’sorry. I’ll be good.”

“Good.”

Harry released your hands before grabbing a hair tie from his wrist and putting his hair up in a bun. God when he did that… it did unspeakable things to you. You watched him obsessively, frothing over the way his arms and chest stretched and flexed with every small movement. Up behind his head then back down to the bed when he settled between your thighs while staring at you with this triumphant fuckboy smile.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that. So so pretty and all mine.” He murmured, tracing his finger through your crease while looking straight at your pussy with complete awe. Harry was fucking obsessed with you.

“Harry…”

“I know,” he sympathised, voice almost mocking at your flushed cheeks. He loved when you got nervous. “You’re so pretty when you blush, y/n.” He blew gently over your clit, sliding his two fingers back into you.

Closing his mouth around your clit, he started pleasuring you again. He moved his tongue against you harder and curled his fingers into you with far more purpose than before. And finally, finally you were starting to feel that relief. It was exactly what you needed to start to feel that twist in your stomach and shake in your thighs… the rush before that euphoric release. Your toes were starting to curl and your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging so hard he had to dig his fingertips into your tattoo to ground himself from how desperate he was getting from his hair being played with.

“Oh god… I’m… ‘mgonna…”

And then the rush stopped, that spiraling wave freezing right before it tumbled over the cliff. Harry removed his mouth and halted his fingers, kissing over your thighs instead with an evil grin you could feel against your skin.

“Harry” you protested, gasping while looking down at him. Your legs attempted to clam around his head and you tried to tug his mouth back to you but he easily overpowered you and used his arms to pin your thighs wide against the bed.

“You’re cute when you’re desperate. Might be my second favourite look on you.” He bit down on your thigh, chuckling against your skin.

“What’s the… what’s your favourite?” Your breathing felt laboured, skin already feeling a little sticky from being teased for so long.

“When you orgasm… sometimes it’s when I’ve got you so far gone you’re fucking sobbing for me. Only like your tears when they’re because of m’cock.”

He was evil.

Was it fucked up that knowing he liked to make you cry turned you on?

“You’re so mean… you know I-oh” your words got caught in his throat, eyes fluttering closed again when he started tracing his tongue over your clit again.

Harry started to tease you again, going back to that languid, gentle touching. He was enjoying every second of it too, moaning into you, using his spare hand to grab on your belly and your breasts. He pinched at your nipples before pressing against your tattoo, all to rile you up and build your orgasm again so damn slowly.

Harry was nearly about to burst. You were so wet and so fucking sweet and though he loved having his face between your thighs for hours on end, it turned him on beyond anything else on the fucking planet. He had to keep focusing his mind elsewhere, on anything but the way your cream was coating his fingers and dripping down his palm, or how you were so fucking wet just one slide of his tongue through your crease echoed around the entire room.

But then you got a little too sensitive, a little too desperate and tugged his hair so hard it slipped from the bun he did earlier. He was just as happy to punish you than he was to rest his face between your thighs.

The pleasure stopped once more and you were flipped so fast onto your belly, you didn’t have an opportunity to try and wiggle away. He gathered your hands quickly in one of his so you couldn’t move and ignored your whine of his name.

“I warned you once, y/n, and you didn’t want to listen…”

“Harry ‘m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise.” You protested, at Harry’s complete mercy. He pinned you to the bed with one hand, keeping your hands pressed to your lower back while he pulled his belt out of his belt loops. You wiggled beneath him, trying to get out of his tight grip only to be suddenly swatted with his belt over your ass.

You gasped at the sting, feeling the spot on your skin grow a heartbeat of its own. It was a warm spiced feeling, oozing down to your aching clit that Harry had teased all night.

“You did this to yourself, bunny. I wanted to be nice and I wanted to enjoy your sweet little pussy but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Could you?” Harry looped the belt around your hands then tightened it with the buckle so it was snug around your wrists. He tugged at it just to be sure you couldn’t slip out before hovering over you to kiss you gently on your shoulder.

“Okay?” He asked, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” You nodded.

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.” He whispered the praise against your shoulder, kissing the middle of your back on his way back to kneel behind you.

Harry was quick to pull your ass up off the bed until your face was pressed to the duvet, giving him the perfect access to all your pretty holes. You were practically dripping. Already edged once with no relief and now he could just taste you and bury his face without having your hands in the way. His perfect girl.

“See…” He murmured, tracing his hands over your ass. “Isn’t this better? Now I can enjoy you in peace.”

You responded with a noise of indignation, squeezing your fists when he chuckled and spanked your ass in that same spot he whacked his belt. Your skin was pulled taught with the way your chest was pressed to the bed, making the sting heavier than usual.

Even though you whimpered and your whole body jerked at the feeling of his palm on your ass, Harry knew you enjoyed it. Just like you enjoyed being tied up.

The only reason you protested having his belt around your hands was because you hated it like this. Behind your back or pinned to your sides or thighs. You didn’t like not being able to feel him, especially when you couldn’t see him either. With Harry always gone you just wanted to touch him as much as humanly possible when he was around him.

You always had a hand on him. In his hair or scratching his back or in his pocket or intertwined with his fingers. You just needed that touch. Craved it. And now it had been taken away.

“God, you taste so fucking good, bunny.” Harry groaned, spanking your ass roughly. He spread your cheeks wide, pulling back to spit right on your tight rim of muscles before he was sucking over your clit again. “Like a fucking dream.”

He groaned against you, nuzzling his nose right against your entrance to press just hard enough to dip into you. The way he used his entire face to pleasure you was completely feral. He’d be able to smell you for days and taste your sweet sweet arousal for hours to come. That’s exactly how he liked it.

He was completely wrapped around your clit, sucking in that perfect rhythmic pressure he knew you liked. The same pressure that had you tumbling towards an orgasm within two minutes flat. Now he seemed to be doing the opposite of his torturous teasing. He was trying to make you cum and he was doing it in the messiest, most feral way possible.

That was somehow more evil because you had nowhere to go. You couldn’t move your hands or grab his hair, not even hold his hand until he reached for you. With the tight grip on your hips, you were pinned in his grip. You didn’t mind though, because he was finally… finally giving you that delicious pleasure.

You were hopeful, your entire body tense and trembling. Your mouth was gaped against the bedding, soft moans muffled into the material. Until your entire world crashed and burned when it all stopped. Again.

“No. Harry...”

“Shh, it’s okay, bunny.” Harry pressed his mouth over your ass, sliding his fingers out of you to run through your crease to your clit. “Still green?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Then let’s keep going, shall we?”

You lost count at how many times he edged you. After five it all turned into a blur; a teary, stinging blurr where your mind was completely in the clouds and your body felt like it was melting into a puddle. You were completely heavy in the bed, legs sore and trembling and your arms aching after being behind your back for so long.

Every touch was torture, every flick of his tongue or suck over your clit sent your mind into orbit. You needed to come so fucking badly but there was nothing you could do to get him to let you finish. He was happy to just taste you and lick you until you were reduced to a pile of tears and sore muscles on the bed.

“Please Harry… please I need it so bad… need y’cock so so badly…”

It wasn’t the first time you begged for it, but it was certainly the first time you cried for it. You were crying softly against the bedding, wiggling and clenching around his fingers. Your nails were digging into your palms, trying to counteract the pressure your entire lower body was facing.

“Yeah? Wanna give it to you, bunny. So fucking bad…” Harry’s cock had been painfully sore since your fourth edge, so fucking hard he got rid of all his clothes just for some relief. His jeans were pressing so tight against his cock, he could barely handle it.

Harry was a sadistic fuck, though and he liked the pain. He liked being sore and he liked to edge himself so when he finally got inside you and got that ultimate pleasure, the entire experience was better. He liked it when he made you come multiple times, but there was something romantic about edging you until you cried then letting you finally come when he was deep inside you and about to orgasm himself.

Simultaneous orgasms were a rarity, but Harry liked the challenge. Often it was him timing his with yours anyway. You were terrible at holding your orgasm, practically incapable of it. That’s why edging you was so fun… Harry had complete control over it. He knew the signs of your body reaching that point without you even verbalising it and knew the exact moment to pull away before you tipped over the edge.

And even when you cried and it was sore, your colour remained green the entire time.

“Got me so hard f’you… just need to make sure you really want it, huh?” Harry bared his teeth against your ass cheek, biting down on one of the spots his various spontaneous spanks had made their mark. Your ass was beat red at this point, covered in teeth marks and hand prints from Harry getting too damn excited. He knew it would be sore for a couple of days, but that’s what he wanted.

He wanted his memory on your skin… and now after your tattoo, it would be. Forever.

The thought of that was exhilarating and one of the most terrifying things in Harry’s world.

“I do… I need it so bad, Harry. Feel so empty without you… so sore…” Your words all joined together, a slur of neediness and sniffled tears.

“Oh, I bet, bunny…” He cooed, sliding his fingers out of you before sucking them clean. He then moved up on his knees behind you to gently undo the belt from your wrists. “Bet you’re so sensitive n’sore, aren’t you?” He threw the belt to the side, massaging your wrists in his hand to soothe the reddened skin.

You just nodded against the bedding, curling your fingers back to hold his hands. He sighed at the sight, leaning down to quickly kiss your fingers before rolling you on your back.

“Aw, baby. Look at you all teary-eyed…” Harry cupped your cheek, letting your legs fall wide on the bed as he wiped the tears from under your eye. With his other hand, he grabbed his cock and guided it to your pussy, sliding the head through your folds. His teeth gritted at the sensitivity on his desperate cock and he was trying so hard to not lose all strength in his body just at that one little touch. He was the one desperate now.

“Y’look so pretty like this… fucking gorgeous you are…”

“Harry…” You sighed, holding onto his wrist with one hand while grabbing his hip with the other. Just the feeling of his cock through your folds was heavenly, a sign that you’d finally get to come.

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl. Like a fucking angel… shit”

His hand slid down your face to your neck, looping around it in a loose hold while he pressed his tip to your entrance and slowly eased his way in. Your pussy was so sensitive from all his teasing and he could tell too. Your cry was loud and your nails dug deep into his hip. He was addicted to the feeling.

“Shit… oh god…” You whined out, head thrown back against the bedding. Your mouth was wide in a pant, chest heaving just at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you. His cock was always an adjustment… thick and long and fuck, every time you thought of it your mind went a little dizzy.

It ached to have him inside you without being edged so much and now it was like a hot fire in your womb. Your clit was aching, your belly was aching, and everything was so tightly strung all you wanted was just to be fucked. Even if you were more sensitive than ever, you just needed to be fucked hard into the bed.

No teasing. Nothing. You just wanted him to fuck you until you came undone around him.

“Fuck me… please, Harry just fuck me…” your words came in a rushed, desperate plea; your hips jutting to try and get him to move.

“Fuck, bunny. Got a filthy fucking mouth, don’t you…” Harry cursed, tightening his grip around your neck. “I’ll fuck you, alright. I’ll give you exactly what you want…”

He started rocking his hips against you, wasting no time to get to a steady, bruising pace. It was hips snapping against hips, your thighs wide on the bed while he used his hand around your neck for balance. His balls slapped against your ass and his noises of pleasure were so goddamn erotic you knew you’d never forget the sound of them.

It was euphoric.

“God baby, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me. And you’re all mine, aren’t you? All fucking mine…” Harry grunted, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from finishing too fast. He was practically going to burst the moment his cock slid inside you. “And this…” He pressed his palm to your thigh, heavily running his thumb over your tattoo… “is so sexy… so fucking sexy…”

Neither of you seemed to care about the fact he had fresh stitches and a fresh bullet wound because the way he was fucking you was too good to care about something that could be so easily fixed. That pain in his abdomen did very little to stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved, even if that meant he’d have to sit through another angry stitching done by you.

Hopefully, this time you weren’t as angry or as rough with him… though he wouldn’t have minded if it meant he’d have you again like this.

You couldn’t even respond to him because it felt like your mouth had disconnected from your brain. Your body was so overstimulated that your mind could barely function. But you could drag him down with two hands on his jaw and kiss him. It was messy and uncoordinated but that didn’t even matter. All that mattered was that his body was on yours and you felt the closeness you had craved since the moment he tied your wrists behind your back.

“I love you… I love you so much…” You murmured, already feeling your orgasm approach again. It hardly took any time, not when he was fucking you so good and so hard. He felt deeper than ever before, so deep you could feel that deep pit in your stomach start to churn. It was a feeling that didn’t happen very often, but one both you and Harry reaped the benefits of.

“I love you so much, angel. My love forever and always.” Harry groaned into your mouth, gathering your hands in his and intertwining your fingers together. He pushed on either side of your head, pressing them into the bedding as he started to kiss along your jaw and neck to get a bit of air.

The dirty talk kept spilling out of his mouth, some coherent and others just desperate strung together sentences that made your head spiral and your pussy clench around his cock. He had a way with words, both in and out of the bedroom and it never failed to knock you to the fucking floor.

That deep churning in your pit only grew and started to press right against your clit. You could feel the pressure building and building until it felt like you were going to burst. Your clit was aching; a pinching white-hot pleasure beating from it like it had its own heartbeat.

“Oh… shit… shit. Harry… ‘m gonna… ‘m gonna squirt” The words barely got out, all thrown together in a loud cry right in his ear before you felt the damn burst from inside of you.

It rolled over you in a crash. An initial euphoric crash of pleasure hitting your body from all angles. Waves and waves of pure ecstasy made your thighs tremble and your toes curl. Your whole body shook as the first spray of your arousal hit Harry’s lower belly and with every squirt after, another jolt of electricity.

“Shit baby. Good fucking girl. Fucking hell…” Harry cursed, grinding his hips against you to try and draw as much of your orgasm through. He felt it coat his cock and the hairs at his base, dripping down to his balls until it started to dampen the bedding beneath you. “Jesus, bunny. ‘M gonna cum… Can I?...”

“Want it… want it inside, please…” you whimpered, squeezing his hands tight as the pleasure started to die down to a low beat in your clit.

Harry’s mouth smushed against yours as he fucked himself once more inside of you, groaning against you as his body trembled above you. You could feel the hot bliss of his come filling you to the brim and the sudden weight of him on top of you when he let himself relax against your body.

“Shit, bunny…” He sighed, dropping his forehead to the crook of your neck.

You were both exhausted. Your skin was damp and sticky and the bed below you felt exactly the same. It was a mess. You were a mess and yet you were the happiest you could’ve been. Sore muscles and a fire beating on your ass and fresh tattoo meant nothing compared to the fulfilment you had just being with Harry.

“Are you okay?” He whispered after a moment of silence, resting his chin on your chest to look at you. He needed to collect himself before he checked on you so he was physically able to take care of you and provide whatever you needed. He definitely needed to have a shower or bath with you and rub some cream on your wrists and bum.

“I’m good,” You whispered back, smiling softly at him. “A little sore but so good… are you okay?”

“I’m perfect,” he smiled and softly kissed your sweaty skin, “can I pull out now?”

With a small nod, he gently pulled himself out of you and then started your normal routine. He went to get some water and a damp towel to clean you both up and then returned to clean you while you guzzled the entire thing. Some nights you two jumped in the shower straight away, but that was only if you weren’t going to have another round or were prepared to change the sheets at the same time.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. After you went to the bathroom quickly you returned and you both curled into each other’s arms to have your usual pillow talk. It was your favourite part of sleeping together because it was often when the truth came out or you found out more things about him. You loved that.

“I still can’t believe you did this…” Harry murmured, looking down at the tattoo. He traced his fingers over it, looking at it obsessively.

“Was it too much? Be honest…”

“What?” Harry was a little taken aback and looked up at you with a furrowed expression, “Never. Fucking unexpected but I love it,” he reached up to grab your cheek and you immediately nuzzled into it, holding your hand over his, “I love you, y/n. I don’t say it often enough but I do. And I want you in my life, I just don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“Let me come with you.” You responded, “next time you go back to the city, let me come. I want to see where you live and… I don’t know, maybe meet your friends? Or…” you felt a little embarrassed at the next words that came out of your mouth, but you weren’t exactly sure how else to say it, “work colleagues…”

Harry cracked the biggest fucking grin at how you phrased it, but he tried to not laugh so he wouldn’t embarrass you. “Alright. Tomorrow. I’ll take you back with me.”

“Tomorrow?” You blinked, not expecting him to just willingly agree like that.

“Yes. I don’t have a job until Thursday so we’ll have a couple of days together. But that’s only if you don’t have college or wo-”

“I don’t.” You interrupted quickly, knowing very well you did have university and work. Harry knew that too, he just wanted to see if you’d really skip a few days of responsibility for him. “I’d love to go.”

Harry smirked, nearly getting all worked up again at the thought of his angel skipping classes just to spend time with him. “Good…” He then cleared his throat and sat up so he could look at you, “I want you to have this.”

He removed his signature cross necklace from around his neck and motioned for you to sit up as well. “Harry… I couldn’t”

“You can.” He pressed, placing the necklace over your head. He eyed the way it fell right between your breasts and pulled your hair out from underneath it so it wouldn’t get tangled. “Always wear this, y/n. I mean it. The moment I take you into the city there will be people who care that you know me and they’ll use it against me.” Harry played with the cross between two fingers, rubbing his thumb over the front of it, “Wearing this… it’s a protection.”

“How?...” You whispered, looking between the necklace and his gorgeous green eyes.

“Because this-” his hand fell to your thigh, squeezing over the plastic film of your tattoo, “-tells me that you’re mine and this-” he grabbed the chain again, tugging it ever so slightly, “tells the entire fucking world.”

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