#but i needed to write it or the idea would be gone forever

[fideosfelices]

You and Spanner got close in a natural way.

It started with you two spending time together in his workroom, the place that was pretty much his second home. You didn't know much about mechanics, but were willing to listen to his enthusiastic rambles or mental scheming for future projects.

Both of you found comfort in sharing knowledge about your areas of expertise, chatting about your daily life or just being next to each other, minding your own business but sharing a common space.

One day, you arrived at his place, he was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, attention fixed on connecting electronic parts of the most recent robot he'd been developing. "Ah, I'm starving!" You said, and he took the lollipop he'd been previously sucking out of his mouth to offer it in your direction. You froze in place. "What? You don't like this flavor?" He stared at you with a puzzled expression. "No, it's just that... it feels like an indirect kiss." He wouldn't understand if you weren't clear about it. "So...?" That's when you knew, your relationship had taken a step forward.

After that, you started getting bolder, placing your chin on his shoulder as you hugged him from behind, peeking at what he was doing in his laptop, sitting back to back with him while reading an extensive document for your job, or resting your head in his lap when exhaustion hit too hard but you didn't want to leave his side.

"Give." You said one time, looking at him dead in the eye while he didn't even bother to lift his sight from the metallic piece of who-knows-what that kept him awake all night long. He offered you his lollipop, but you refused. "No, not that. A kiss." Now you got his attention. "Alright." His face was so gorgeous from that distance, eyes deep like the ocean and skin smoother than you'd expect from someone with no particular skincare routines. He placed his gloved hand on your cheek and leaned forward, brushing your lips with his own and then pulling you closer, giving you the sweetest kiss you ever tasted.

[infizero]

stumbles out of we solved fnaf and we're not kidding covered inblood

[merkerlerspeaks]

on a scale of 1-10 how silly would it be to ask folks to pray that I find a piece of jewelery I lost. It's not particularly valuable monetarily but its very precious to me and Im afraid I lost it outside of the house. I cant find it anywhere it should be. It could be in the pocket of the either the pajama pants or outside pants I wore the last day I saw it (the 19th) or it could be buried under something in my old bedroom, or it could be at my friend's moms house or somewhere between here and there. Trying not to stress over it but its just become precious too me.

[deep-space-netwerk]

What do you mean by Venus floating cities?

I'm hoping to write a science fiction story about visiting Venus as part of the space race and I would love your input

Alright so the thing with Venus is that we're all very familiar with her horrible hell-death clouds and 900°F surface temperatures. We all understand the surface of Venus is not a fun place for humans to be.

But, nobody ever talks about the fact that ABOVE the hell-death clouds, Venus is a paradise. The most Earth-like environment we know of in the solar system, beyond Earth itself, is actually in the skies of Venus.

About 30 miles above the surface, the pressure is ~1 atmosphere, and the temperature ranges from 30 - 100°F, which is Happy Human��� standard pressure and temperature.

What's more, a breathable mix of oxygen and nitrogen provides over 60% the lifting power on Venus that helium does on Earth. In other words, a balloon full of human-breathable air would float to the habitable range of Venus's atmosphere. We could float a ship with the very air we breathe.

The other great thing about this is that it avoids one of the big problems with Mars colonization. On Mars, any habitat on the surface full of breathable air is vulnerable to leaks and explosive decompression, a la the Martian.

Floating on Venus, a balloon full of breathable air doesn't have a significant pressure difference between the inside and the outside. Which means, any leaks or tears would be very slow and manageable. You could fix that shit with duct tape!

Similarly, because the environment outside the balloon is so Earth-like, humans living there wouldn't need any big fancy pressurized suits for extravehicular work. We'd need air to breathe, maybe some heat protection, and protection against the acid rain. That's it. 

Venus also provides the tools to keep us fed! It's atmosphere is made primarily of carbon dioxide, even above the dense horrible clouds. What likes carbon dioxide? Plants from Earth!! Lets grow FOOD on FLOATING PLATFORMS in the SKIES of VENUS.

This whole idea actually came out of a NASA effort exploring potential Venus colonization. The program was called HAVOC - the High Altitude Venus Operational Concept.

It hasn't really gone anywhere, and as far as I know there are no real plans to revisit it. Unfortunately, from a practicality standpoint, Mars is a much more viable target for human colonization. Not only is it better poised for outer solar system exploration, being farther away from the sun, but living on Venus would come with too many complicated contingencies. In the event of a major failure on Venus, you'd need to fly to another base, or fuck off all the way to orbit. I understand why people aren't really in a hurry to live somewhere where landing on the surface means certain death.

But that doesn't mean I won't be forever and always enamored by the skies of Venus. Here's one of the artist concepts to come out of HAVOC.

I want to be there.

[lovscb97]

bang chan recs (18+)

key: !!! = personal favourite, s = smut, f = fluff, a = angst

add. notes: hai :3 i know i said i would make a skz recs list but the minute i scrolled thru my likes n started saving from chan onwards, i realised i had Too many recommended fics for him (this list is like 40 fics/drabbles long....) so i decided to just make member separate posts instead!!! i tried not to have repeats of authors to give u guys a broader scope to choose from n also sorry in advance that i yapped so much abt them it's just like . these r my all time fav authors so it's expected. anyways i hope u guys love these works as much as i do bcs they r from some of my absolute fav creators n plz give them lots of love n always make sure to appreciate these ppl <3

. . .

hopelessly devoted to you — @changbunnies (!!!, s, a?)

this was literally a 11/10 fic like i am not even joking rn. i luv greaser chan n even tho he messed up, the way he makes it up to mc is so so soooo sweet. the fact that he's so gone n pussydrunk while eating her out, the sweetness in how he holds her n fucks her is all too mindnumbing n i hope u continue writing bcs u r amazing at it!! i will always come back 2 this when i need a pick me up fr

2. bad idea — @hyunsvngs (!!!, s)

JUNOOOOO my lovely baby.... i adore u n all ur work always but this fic. This Fic. it changed the trajectory of my life. like not even kidding but i was a different person when i started reading this n when i finished it i was Changed. life is worth living now, the grass is greener n the birds always sing 2 me which i firmly believe is bcs of u n this beautiful yummy fic. i fucking LOVE stepdad chan sm like there's smth so gross n nasty abt fucking ur mom's bf n even tho mc is a menace, i still loved it. never stop doing what u do!!!

3. 1095 days — @luvyeni (s)

EX INMATE CHAN RAHHHHH!! i have akshewally been following ur work for so long n i LOVE!! the way u write :3 thank u for always churning out ur work so fast n being so good at what u do. im obv a sucker for daddy kink considering i eat it up every time n it's so fucking good i love how chan cares for mc n the way he gives it to her once he's back. mark my words i will EAT this man up n this fic whenever i stumble across it

4. milk and honey — @straykeedz (s, f, a?)

user straykeedz u have to stop... ur work too addicting n perfect.. ur depiction of chan too real n crazy (/pos)... they're gonna get u... but seriously i love bffs2lovers so bad n the way u always characterise chan n make him call mc so many cute pet names melts my heart :( i've also been following U for a long time n even tho everything u write is so so soooo good, this has to be one of my faves alongside ur inexperienced chan fic. i hope u don't pressure urself too much to update n jus do what u have to do :D

5. my wife — @chrizzztopherbang (s, f)

ngl i Think this is my first fic from u cus i followed u bcs of it n that's a given honestly cus newly turned husband chan?? eating his wife out metres away from his friends n family on the other side of the door n fucking her within an inch of her life right after they're pronounced husband n wife?? i love it i loved their bickering over who's a pervert n i just love the idea of mc finally calling the love of her life hers forever. i hope they r always happy alongside u

6. sweet nothing — @frenchkisstheabyss (!!!, s, f, a)

this fic actually changed me as a person too not even kidding. i EAT UP exes to lovers n the portrayal of it was so good here bcs there's so much unspoken tension between the two n then chan begging mc to not leave again n her promising she won't bcs all she wants to do is be his at last?? AWOOGAAAAA i need him so bad it's jinja michin (i am so cringe sorry..) ANYWAYS!! i hope u know tattoo artist + ex bangchan is a crazy combo n that the makeup sex was HOT HOT HOT!!! plz keep writing i adore u <3

7. pick you up — @moonchild9350 (!!!, s)

see idk if this is tmi but sex where ure being picked up n fucked is downright nasty in the best possible way n i fear i need to get railed like that by chan so u writing abt is literally u making my fantasies come true. this fic was a delicious mix of cute w chan telling mc he only works out so he can pick her up (based off of his bbl texts obv) n hot w him Actually fucking her within an inch of her life. i love all ur work tee bee eich so keep doing what ur doing!!!

8. spring has sprung — @cbini (!!!, f, s)

miss ems where do i even begin with u.. (u probably Do Not Know me but i know u smirk emoji. soz that was weird erm but ya i am the binnie anon who said u deserve changbin LOLZ) this fic was the perfect mix of cuteness w raw passionate fucking i love the idea of chan getting hard bcs ur dressed so preciously in a pretty dress i think it's rooted somewhere in his slight corruption kink which comes out def when u r all dolled up for him. anyways u never miss n i hope u know that <3

9. walking in on rooomate!chan / pt. 2 — @kacciidubs (!!!, s, f)

going 2 be very honest here i do not even remember what happened in part 1 bcs part 2 of this roommate chan fic actually blew my mind away like Seriously user kacciidubs u r insane!!! all ur work never misses n i am always so eager whenever u post bcs i've been following u n loving everything u put out for so long. ofc ur chan work is my favourite as u can tell but this fic... this fic was crazy the switch between daddy n sir oh my god what if i cream my pants rn. plz never stop writing <3

10. last nerve / pt. 2 — @cb97percent (!!!, s)

user cb97percent let me just preface this by saying whatever u write is INSANE. like i already knew u were a great writer but this fic? changed me as a person not even joking rn. the way mc n chan banter n how chan's an asshole who is pissed off how he can't get it up anymore unless he fucks mc is so funny n how the raw passion between them results in the best sex Ever. n ofc the ending w minho took me out n Yea i just . i have no words plz never stop writing to u as well

11. hush — @petrichor-han (s)

sucker for exhibitionism n sucker for chan so what better way to comemorate this occasion than by reading abt it? this entire scenario was so hot like honestly i can totally imagine chan's bitchass doing this bcs he's so cheeky in nature he would lose himself from the thrill of almost getting caught. u r amazing as always thank u for churning out so much content for kinktober may god or whoever u believe in bless u with eternal inspiration

12. daddy!chan helping you shave — @hyunjins-orange-slice-too (!!!, s, f)

i sent u an ask already talking abt how much i love u n everything u write but THIS. this made me weak in the knees bcs i have imagined this very scenario so many times if im being brutally honest. there's smth so sweet n domestic abt the act of helping ur partner shave n with daddy chan in the mix? kill me now plz. the way he asks if he can play w mc once he's done n how he sternly instructs her to be safe like omgkjdfjhjdfgjhhjg need him in ways that give the pits of hell a run for its money w how hot n nasty im abt to be fr

13. one last time — @baby-yongbok (!!!, s, a?)

like i said, i am a sucker for the exes to lovers pipeline alongside husband chan so while this isn't Either of those things entirely it still scratches the itch in my brain very very well. the way mc n chan exchange snarky remarks n how chan only says he's satisfied once they're done fucking OHHHH MYYYYY GODDDD... need this man carnally like i would dump him just so he can fuck me the way he fucked mc in this fr (that is a lie we r locked in 4 life). u r brilliant as always i always look forward to ur work so next time u r questioning if this is worth it just know lovscb97 on tumblr has ur back fr

14. chan ask drabble #1 — @skzms (s)

maymay.. my eternal luvr... the genius behind smrsmf minsung... ofc u were bound to eat this up n end up on this list. idgaf if it's just an ask answer or drabble bcs the way u write is so . so Elegant. i love how u always use ur words to describe the emotion lingering between ppl in love n the way u do it here w chan n mc, the way he reassures her afterwards n how he promises her he'll give her everything later while fucking his fingers into her ohhhh mannnn.. i can just imagine him in his suit thank u for bringing the vision to life fr

15. you're right, baby — @chlorinecake (s, f)

soft dom chan who is ur fiancé fucking u n claiming u bcs he's a lil pouty that u forgot ur ring?? n then going so far to say he'll cum in u to make sure everyone knows who u belong to?? RAHHHHHH HE NEEDS ME!!! this was written so deliciously i loved the way mc n chan cared for each other n also the ending was so cute LOLZ hope they r happy in every universe n that their wedding goes great fr u r an awesome writer user chlorinecake

16. silence — @valkyriexo (s, a)

make up sex make up sex make up sex!!! i love it so good even tho it hurts so bad when mc realises chan forgot to show up :( but the fact that he makes it up to her by begging her to not leave him n making her cum as many times on his tongue as possible for her to forgive him?? INSANITY!! the longing in their eyes n words n actions from how much they've missed e/o when he finally touches mc n oh man.. u ate this up

17. corruption — @goquokka00 (s)

STEPBRO CHAN RAHHHHH i am a sucker for him (in more ways than one iygwim eheheh.. soz) i loved the sinister blackmail u added into the story n how he fucked mc bcs of her bad grades by making up some shit excuse abt learning how to please someone like y/n u can't be this dense girl!!! (i'd do it too if he asked me #Tbh) ANYWAYS. idk how this didn't have more notes bcs it was hot asfk i hope u keep writing more stuff to come :3

18. chef's kiss — @hyuniepies (s, f)

the tenderness of mc n chan's love mixed w the nasty dirty talk ohhhh hyuniepies u r a GENIUS!! this is exactly how i imagine domestic life w chan would be like; him coming back home to u cooking a dinner n then fucking u absolutely silly on the countertop bcs he just can't wait after getting a look at ur figure n bcs he's missed u so much. i too would be obsessed w bangchan if (read: when) he becomes my husband teehee

19. chan ask drabble #2 — @miupow (!!!, s)

USER MIUPOW UR FUCKING BRAIN!! HOW DO U CARRY SUCH A HUGE BRAIN IN UR HEAD!!! DOES UR BACK NOT HURT FROM HOLDING UP THE DELICIOUS IDEAS OF BCHAN SIZE KINK!!! like i told u yst i love ur writing n i love U so bad. u always eat w every request or idea u come up with n i absolutely adore that for u i hope u truly never stop writing bcs u have a serious gift n i hope ppl keep telling u that constantly bcs i sure as hell will <3

20. pretty mouth of yours — @jeongin-lvr (s, f)

need to give chan head like . Yesterday. but OHHHH MEINNNN GOTTTT fiancé channie w mc sucking him off so pretty u know exactly what im a sucker for u dont u user jeongin-lvr? ur writing is tooooooo good i swear i have read so much of ur work n granted this is one of my fave chan works from u icl i love the jeongin ones even more but i'll add those to my innie recs list later :3 ANYWAYS!! plz never stop writing u r awesomesauce (cringe.) n i love u hope u r having a great day today

21. daddy issues — @hwan-g (!!!, s, a)

HELLO THIS FUCKING FICCCCC... it is so good so delicious so fucking beautifully written that it brought tears to my eyes no joke. i still remember the first time i stumbled across it n like wow.. i think i dmed u on my side reading account too to express how much i liked it bcs i rly Did like it truly was a piece of art n sometimes i can't believe ppl like u just write stuff like this for free?? u should be getting paid good money bcs all ur work ALWAYS eats <3

22. closing the distance / pt. 2 — @thefantasyden (s, f)

ik long distance relationships r tough n it's awful when u can't spend time w each other physically or touch either but hear me out . it would Not suck w chan bcs he'd do everything for u the way he does everything for mc in this fic. from how he shows up n is too nervy to kiss her to them finally touching each other for the first time n then she moves back to him?? ohhhh man i love love n i love U for making this ur work always eats n trust that i'll always come back to this fic when i need to rmb how much i love chan

23. riding chan's thigh/knees — @faeryacha (!!!, s, f)

i love daddy chan so bad im sorry im not even gonna hide it anymore n i love the way he was written here too, from the way he asks if mc wants to play to the way he has her fuck herself on him to get herself off like i'm not even into little space like that but the minute he refers to himself as daddy n speaks to me all soft n protective im on my knees on the floor ready to suck him off like my life depends on it. u ate so bad w this plz continue doing more amazing work in the future!!!

24. steamy desires — @notsoangels (s)

shower sex w chan mngnghfhghgh.. need him so bad id let him fuck me anywhere as he pleases but in the shower?? w the hot water cascading over us w just us in our little world like omgomgomg NEED. i love the simplicity in ur writing too n how it paints a picture in my mind bcs i can vividly imagine all of this happening like him making u squirt on his cock n then rinsing u off so u can spend time wrapped up with each other on the bed like plz. One chance plz.

25. the fuckboy next door — @seospicybin (!!!, s, a)

miss seospicybin.. how do u always do it? how do u always come out w the most mindbreaking jawdropping amazing insane array of fics without even breaking a sweat like hello? this series is so fucking good from the smut to the angst that hurts so good. i love the development of the plot n that chan tries So hard to be true to mc so he can be w her n the way she tells him to do it for himself like :( they deserve each other sm i am very much looking forward to part 4!!!

26. pussydrunk chan — @aeliuss (s, f)

mngngngngjghgh i love pussydrunk chan so bad n i love the idea of him being so infatuated w mc that he just Had to drag her away n eat her out. i also love that he's there to support her in the end n how turned on he gets from her just being herself like that is a real man!!! n the way it's so reflective of how chan is irl too? i feel like this is how exactly how he'd behave— needy but so so soo in love with u too

27. kitty — @bandgie (!!!, s, f)

no joke this fic made my pussy throb. i need him 2 do this to him so bad bcs i need Him so bad. the way u wrote the subspace drop n how immersed mc was in her role n the way chan guides her thru everything n then the aftermath of it like hngnngnfgddjghjgh... i always have loved ur writing but this particular piece rly got to me along w ur kinktober series i hope u continue to do writing bcs u seriously so so SO good at it fr!!

28. angel eyes — @temptaetions (!!!, s, a)

this fic. this fucking FIC. bro this is actual evidence of the fact that literary geniuses exist bcs the way u wrote so beautifully not just the actual smut but the whole storyline?? u r a godsend fr like u should be getting paid to put out work of this degree. not only r u a PHENOMENAL writer but i hope u never stop writing bcs this was actually so so lovely n amazing to read i wish i could revisit the first time i read this T_T

29. just (fucking) friends? — @snowyquokka (s)

HELLOOOO i love possessive fwb chan almost as much as i love ur writing!! the way he's so annoyed at how she said they're just friends so he takes out his anger on her but then at the same time asks her what her color is to make sure she's still okay WOWZAAAA.. need him Bad. n in the end when they both agree they don't wanna be just friends like chan.. i don't want 2 be just friends either.. come 2 me plz... anyways very yummy work fr

30. american whiskey — @straywrds (!!!, s, a)

this fic... how do i even begin w this fic... the way u write is actually so . so otherwordly yk? u rly pour all ur passion into ur writing n the way u describe everything like every emotion every detail every feeling it's so raw n real that it touches my heart. i can Feel what each of the characters go thru n the SMUT... the smut is so so delicious ofc. i've read ur other work n u r such a good writer plz keep going with what u do i will always support u fr

31. free use w/ soft dom chris — @hwanghyunjinenthusiast (s, f)

the dirty talk in this.. hngnngkgjjdgjjh. i need free use w daddy!chan just as bad as i need to reread this fic ten times until it's ingrained in my brain n any telepath w the ability to read minds out there is disgusted by how many times i think abt it (idk what this analogy was i am sorry). the way he eats mc out n the way he fucks her omgfkjdgjhjhgjh NEED HIM RAHHHHH u did so well w this

32. play tight / pt. 4  — @roseykat (s, a)

squirting w chan squirting w chan SQUIRTING!! W CHAN!!! the way he makes mc do it once n then immediately goes "yea i need to feel that on my dick" n fucks her within an inch of her life like ohmygodjkdjhsfghj i did eat up the angst too but the way u wrote them fuckinig was so nasty n delicious I ENJOYED IT SM!! this entire series is such a good read even tho it's not chan centered idk if there r more parts to it but if there r plz link me to them!!

33. dream you — @charmercharm3r (s, f)

ok i know we r discussing smut n all n trust that i will get to that but THIS!! this was so cute n precious ohemgee the way he loves mc n takes care of her n banters w her at the start so lovingly is so so precious to me i want him so bad :( the smut was also very delicious w chan switching to hard dom mode n making mc suck him off before ravishing her like oh my god PLZZZZ FUCK ME PLZPLZPLZ u did so well on this plz continue writing more for me at the least <3

34. brat-taming w/ chan — @blurboki (s)

this damn drabble was so.. hngngjfjghjhdgjh. i want 2 be a brat to chan so bad n act out just so he'll snap n put me into my place which is exactly what u wrote n i LOVED IT!!! it's so short n simple (not a bad thing at all btw) yet it's so powerful too? i love the characterisation of chan cus i firmly believe this is how he'd act in bed w a fussy bratty s/o like wow. Just wow. i love u and ur delicious mind i hope u r having a great day just for this :3

35. tell me all about it.. — @chnsbm (s, f)

hngnfjhdfsjghgjh the idea of chan making u forget all about ur stress n playing with u to help u sleep is so gfjfjjjffjhgjhjh HOT!!! the way he lovingly reassures mc like u don't need to worry abt it now just let me take care of u n how he's such a fuckin TEASE!! w the way he's touching her is so so hot u ate w this idea n i will forever die on the hill that this is really smth chan would do— tease u n make u talk while he's doing ungodly things to u just to see u stutter over ur words

36. be that guy — @daizymax (!!!, s, a)

i have said it once i have said it twice n i will say it one more time bcs i don't care how many times i need to reiterate it needs to be said: EXES TO LOVERS W CHAN IS TOP TIER!!! the smut in this was so delicious but the LONGING chan had for mc.. the way he felt the twinge in his chest for letting her go oh man.. i'd take him back if he so even looked at me but maybe im just crazy. BUT ANYWAYS!! this is possibly one of the hottest chan smuts there ever is so thank U for this delicious gift fr

37. more than just friends — @kwanisms (!!!, s, f)

werewolf chan my luvr... my big strong baby who will knock me up w his knot n fuck me until the sun rises RAHHHHHHHH!!! this was so so SOOOOO good n yummy like from the way he pinned mc to the wall to the way he ordered her around n how his self restraint snapped the moment she called him daddy like why's that so Me behaviour HELPPPP anyways user kwanisms u fucking ATE w this i hope ur pillow is cold every night u go to sleep <3

38. connected — @j-0ne25 (s, f, a)

let me just start this by saying I FUCKING LOVE U USER J-0NE25!!! ur interactive stories esp megaverse r so fucking good how r u so bigbrained my dumbass could never like actually JSDHJFJHGJH. anyways i rmb reading this very vividly n oh boy.. "baby patience, or do you need me to teach you a lesson?" Brother my panties r drenched n off dont even start w me rn. anyways this was so so delicious plz never stop writing i beg u

39. chan ask drabble #3 — @hyungszn (!!!, s, f)

saved the best for last but CLOVER.. (u dk me but i am ur biggest fan hai :3) "your mouth is saying no but your body is telling me a different story, mrs. bang." GRRRHJDJSDFJHKJSFKJSFKJGJ... I NEED HIM SOO FUCKING BAD!!! the way they banter even while having nasty sex n just love each other so bad n hello my breeding kink went feral w this. when mc asked him to not eat his cum out of her pussy n he was like "and why is that?" cus he wanted to hear her say it GRAHHHHH I WILL EAT HIM!!! on a side note, u r so so soooo amazing i have been reading ur work for so long i think since american pie n i can safely say u r one of the best skzblr writers i have ever seen along w so many other ppl like plz keep up the good work bcs i will ALWAYS support u for it !!!

. . .

add notes: thank u very much to all these amazing writers fr. if ur work wasn't featured here now do not fret!! i probably (most definitely knowing my dumbass) just missed it cus i didn't scroll Very far down in my likes (there's like 2k+....) so trust that u will most likely end up on the next recs list!! i love u all very much regardless if u r here or not n as always a very big thank u once more for all ur amazing hard work, u r all doing so well n i hope u guys know that <3

[demonvibez]

Showering with Diavolo

Characters: Lord Diavolo x GN Reader Word Count: 2.3k+ Rating: Mature/Explicit [MDNI] Tags: a lil fluff, unprotected penetration, outercourse, fangs/marking, gn body parts A/N: Received this request as a comment under this fic so of course I had to write a lil headcanon/drabble about my husband, lol. Anyways, hope y'all like this - I could go on about Showertime Dia forever ♡

-> Typically Lord Diavolo has to adhere to a very strict schedule, his life filled with routine. Sadly, his hygiene regiment is no different - quick fifteen minute showers, six days per week, with the exception of his weekly bubble bath. 

-> Most of his showers are quite quick and methodical, starting with his hair and working his way to washing his body. At the end of the fifteen minutes, Barbatos is usually there to greet him with his towel and uniform, eager to get the Young Master's very busy day started.

-> He has probably been gifted every hair-care and body gel to ever exist in the Devildom. But instead, his favorite is one you gifted him, and he is sure to use it everyday. The moment the musky-amber scent hits his nostrils in the morning, it reminds him of you, and he just knows he'll have a good day that day.

-> On Saturday evenings, however, the Prince has a little more time to himself - he pours himself some Demonus and settles into his jacuzzi-style bathtub, the water jets melting away the week's worries.

-> He usually uses the time to catch up on whatever popular shows he's missed, the television in his bathroom being a new addition. You had given him this idea - you told him that 'even the future king needs a little bit of me time,' and he started crafting an Akuzon order almost immediately after you walked off to class.

-> He lets himself drift off into his own peaceful oasis - too often falling into slumber, as thoughts of you turn into dreams. Lately though, he can't help but to feel like something is missing - that sitting in this jacuzzi makes him feel a bit lonely.

♡ "If only you were here with me now," he whispers to himself, before letting out a sigh and sinking beneath the water's surface.

-> Luckily for Lord Diavolo, the stars would soon align in his favor, and the fates would push you two closer together. It all started on a camping trip with the usual crowd from RAD. Diavolo had volunteered to help you gather some firewood - a rather simple task, one would think. Instead this task ended with the two of you running into a pack of wild hellhounds, and getting pushed into a mud pit while attempting to play with them. Barbatos looked rather perturbed when he saw the two of you arrive back at camp, but you assured him that everything was fine. 'Come on, let's get cleaned up,' you say with a smirk to a slightly shocked (and very giddy) Diavolo, your fingers entwining with his as you pull him towards the camp showers.

-> He isn't usually a shy demon, but when it comes to stripping down and getting into this shower with you, he can't seem to keep the blush on his face under control. What started as a nice shower together, washing each other's hair and giggling as you splash each other, ends with the two of you in a passionate embrace. With your legs wrapped around his torso, your lips collide as the cool shower's water cascades down Diavolo's toned back. It definitely would have gone further, had the two of you not been interrupted by Mammon and Levi banging on the door. (He did invite you back to his tent afterwards, so the night was not completely lost. Mammon and Levi were also lectured by Lucifer, 'for their shame and disrespect' as he puts it - but that's a different story.)

-> Ever since that night on the camping trip, your relationship has blossomed, and the two to of you spend as much time together as possible. You usually alternate between staying over with each other - most of the time you go over to stay with him in the Castle, but every now and then you are able to convince Lucifer that the House is clean enough for your Royal Boyfriend to spend the night.

-> The first time he stays over, of course the two of you shower together! You ask him if you should text Barbatos to bring over some of his shower supplies, but Diavolo insists on using yours, excited to smell like your signature scent for the rest of the day. He'll always insist on using your products - a light breeze of that scent helps him get through those endless meetings! (Although it does tend to make his mind wander...)

♡ Showers with Diavolo are always a mix of spontaneous and sensual. One moment you're splashing each other with soap suds, playing 'keep away' with the loofah…the next he has you pinned to the wall, unable to resist the way you look up at him, and he can't stop his lips from crashing onto yours. 

♡ It doesn't take much effort for him to pick you up, cradling you in his arms as the shower rains down onto the both of you - and now you can finally finish what the two of you started on that night camping; what Diavolo has been fantasizing about ever since. Your hands slide his damp crimson hair back out of his face, gripping it in the back as your tongues collide. You can feel Dia's thick throbbing cock teasing you, and all you can do is grind against him. 

♡ He slides into you so effortlessly - as if you were made for him. Your arousal made you putty in his hands, your tight little hole adjusting to him after only a moment - but you still couldn't help the gasp you let out at his size, your eyes widening at the sensation.

♡ Every thrust in this position feels new, an unfathomable pleasure previously undiscovered. A new high, with no sight of the top. Each stroke hits so deeply within you with an electric feel, the rush of pleasure getting sent up to your brain, overstimulating all of your senses. The euphoria continues to build, and you don't know if it will ever end - if the tension will ever snap. 

♡ The rising pleasure within you is starting to overwhelm you, having never felt so full before. Just when you thought you couldn't handle much more, the Prince slides one of his hands down to your sex, massaging you in tandem with his pace. Your nails dig into the flesh of his muscular shoulders as he finally pushes you over the edge. He finds himself following suit not long after, the feeling of your tight hole clenching around him making him unable to hold back any longer.

♡ Both of your moans fill the air as you ride out your climax together. Gasping for air, you hear a knock on the glass of the shower's door - you were so wrapped up in this moment together that neither of you heard Barbatos enter the bathroom. He waited until it sounded as though the two of you were finished before he interrupted your 'shower' - and now he's reminding you of the Young Master's busy schedule for today in a scolding tone, as he holds out towels for you both. Oops.

-> Anyways, you also love spending weekends at the Castle with him - it's easier to flow with his schedule that way. And of course Diavolo is going to invite you to his Saturday night soak; you're his favorite human, his lover, his partner…and it was originally your idea, in the first place! 

-> Just know that this demon spent extensive time planning out your first bubble bath together - he had to pull out all of the stops! 

-> The Friday morning beforehand, Barbatos comes in to wake up his Young Prince, only to find him already awake and making a rather large Akuzon order on his DDD. Scented candles, chocolate covered hellberries, vintage spirits - he was even considering calling in one of his favors to see if he could get some Celestial bubble bath expedited from the angelic realm. Cost is of no issue to him, wanting nothing more than to ensure the night's success. Barbatos scolds him several times throughout the day, the Prince seemingly distracted and prioritizing his night in with you over his paperwork. 

-> When the time comes to set everything up, Diavolo insists on doing everything himself. He even threatens bribes Barbatos into going to Purgatory Hall for the evening - all so that he can do it all alone, eager to show you how much he cares about you. He has a brief moment of doubt as some of the Celestial bubble bath accidentally overflows onto the floor...but you're worth it, and he finishes fixing it all up right as you ring the front entrance anyways.

-> The scene set in his bathroom is so romantic, you wonder for a moment if you're actually in a movie. Abyss flower petals scattered around the floor. Candles set around the tub, the flickering glow dancing against the bathroom's tiles. Scented bubbles gently fizzing and popping, the light aroma filling the air and instantly making you feel relaxed. A bottle of champagne, specially ordered from the human realm, and set in an enchanted bucket of ice next to two hell-crystal champagne flutes. And your gorgeous Demon Prince standing in front of you, gently grabbing your hand to press his lips to your knuckles before he leads you over to the tub. If this is a dream, you definitely don't want to wake up...

-> After the two of you disrobe, you settle into the jacuzzi, and Diavolo gets you each a glass of champagne right after he presses the button to start up the water jets.

♡ It doesn't take much bubbly for the two of you to find yourselves in another heated moment - but the truth was, neither of you could hardly wait to jump the other from the moment you entered the bath's warm water. And now you find yourself in his lap, bouncing on his huge throbbing cock, the feeling of it filling you surprising you yet again. Every new position with the Prince feels like new territory, the way he strokes so deeply within you. Making you feel things you never have before - hitting spots you didn't know existed. This type of adventurous pleasure could become addicting...

♡ His golden eyes smolder with lust as he watches you, every gasp that escapes your lips pushing him closer and closer. Your little human hands grip at his scalp as his own fingers sink into the flesh of your hips. His lips find your neck, and his kisses gradually turn into light love bites, his fangs nipping little marks onto your skin as he thrusts up into you.

♡ "So good...all mine," he mumbles possessively against your neck.

♡ Your moans grow louder as Diavolo starts thrusting faster, taking the reigns as you let the building bliss take over your senses. He pulls away from you to see the way your eyes roll back in ecstasy as his hand glides down to your sex, massaging you in that spot that he knows drives you absolutely wild. Consumed by pleasure, that warm feeling of euphoria washes over you, your orgasm making you feel weightless in Diavolo's muscular arms. 

♡ He's not done with you yet though - not even close. Switching positions, he picks you up in his arms and sets you down on the recessed bench in his bathtub. His hand grips under your thigh and pushes your leg up, a groan escaping his lips as he slides himself back into you. It had been merely a few moments, yet he had already missed the feeling of your tight warmth squeezing him so perfectly.

♡ He thrusts into you roughly and suddenly, the bath's water splashing and rippling against his gorgeous caramel skin with each stroke. You hadn't even come down from the high of your first orgasm, still feeling the aftershocks as Diavolo begins to fuck you faster and faster.

♡ Losing all restraint, his demon form slips out only a few moments before he hits his climax, causing his cock to grow even bigger. Your eyes widen as you feel him, his wings outstretched as he fills you with his royal seed - and you can't help but to join him, your orgasm overtaking you as well.

♡ Both panting for air, he picks you up and sits down with you in his lap, still throbbing deeply within you. He wraps his arms around you to hold you as you both catch your breath. Neither of you can help the smiles plastered across your faces, that blissful feeling still remaining as you sit with him in his loving embrace. Your cheek rests against his chest as his rests on top of your head, and he just knows that this is the happiest he's ever been in his long, demonic life.

-> Afterwards, as the two of you get ready for bed, Diavolo can't help the way his heart swells when he sees the way you've settled into his room. The way your things line the counter of his sink. The way you go to his wardrobe to retrieve your pajamas, instead of your bag. It's almost as if you live here in this Castle with him already - a thought as sweet as candy for the Young Devildom Prince. 

-> And as you lay there snuggled up in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck, Diavolo contemplates asking you to move in with him right then and there. But you've already drifted off to sleep, so that will have to wait for another time. Looking down at you lovingly, his heart feels so full - he presses a kiss to the top of your head before laying back on his pillow, his eyes fluttering shut.

♡ "I love you so much," he whispers as he drifts off into his own slumber. With you in his arms and in his dreams, the Future Demon King can't help but to smile in his sleep. 

· demonvibez ♡ 2024 · do not copy, repost or modify · · comments, reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

[55szn]

always and forever - cs55

carlos sainz x fem!reader smau

summary an instagram timeline of carlos and yn’s 8 years long relationship warnings too much fluff fc dua lipa taglist @jaydaaasworld notes i have more requests to get to but i’ve had this idea for a while and let’s just say i needed to write some carlitos fluff🥲

INSTAGRAM

carlossainz55

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carlossainz55 Always a good time with this one 😜❤️

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yourusername t quiero Carlitosss (love you)

carlossainz55 te quiero más ynnnn (love you more)

user scrolled all the way down to carlos first post and of couse it’s yn

user he’s always been so in love with her is so cute

user so pretty

april 20, 2016

yourusername

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yourusername Feliz cumpleaños a mi persona favorita 💕😘 #birthdayboy (Happy birthday to my favorite person)

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carlossainz55 muchas gracias preciosa 💓😘 thank u so much beautiful

yourusername por muchos más cumpleaños juntos 💘 here’s to many more birthdays together

yourbsf feliz cumpleaños!!

user so we are all just stalking their instagrams after their last post, right?

user how can you not

user and they posted each other sooo often it’s so sweet

user i’ve been a fan of carlos for so long and they’ve ALWAYS been there for each other i love yn

september 1, 2017

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, fernandoalo_official and 24.289 others carlossainz55 Quick getaway to celebrate two years and counting with my soulmate by my side 🌅❤️

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yourusername oh carlitos 🥺

yourusername you sure know how to make a girl swoon

yourusername i’ll love you forever <3

user STAWWWWPP

user his caption and her comments i might die ��

user they’ve been together for a lifetime oh my god

august 15, 2018

yourusername

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yourusername my boy and his new boyfriend 🙄

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landonorris sorry i’m just that charming 💁🏻

yourusername he was mine first 😠

carlossainz55 don’t fight i’ll choose yn anyway

landonorris damn 💔

user bro was so down bad he couldn’t even play along to the joke

user omg i never knew it was yn who posted these iconic carlando pics

user well it makes sense she’s carlando’s no. 1 fan

user supporting her boyfriend’s boyfriend iktr 😌

may 22, 2019

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carlossainz55 i would have gone insane without you during this crazy year, feliz año nuevo mi amor😘💘 (happy new year my love)

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yourusername gotta admit quarantine sucked a little bit less with you by my side

carlossainz55 just a little? 😏

yourusername okay maybe it didn’t suck at all 🤐

user oh to be carlos a be able to lay on yn all day long

user she looks so cute in the third pic 🥺

user from when they were FINALLY (yn’s words) able to see each other after spending two weeks apart 😭

user most in love mfs i’ve ever seen

december 31, 2020

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yourusername already knew he looked good in red but thanks for the confirmation @ scuderiaferrari 😝

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carlossainz55 you’re making me blush ☺️

scuderiaferrari you’re more than welcome yn! 😌

user this pic is so sjdiaq

user i don’t want to speak of the things i would do if carlos looked at me like that with those big ass eyes 🫠

user yn is such a lucky girl

user SHE is lucky??!?!? have you seen her??? carlos should be thanking every god above

user i’m pretty sure he does that everyday 😭

march 12, 2021

carlossainz55

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carlossainz55 guess i’m a tatted man now, i just can’t say no to that face 😶

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yourusername you have to admit it’s pretty cute

carlossainz55 whatever you say🫡

user oh my god carlos get up!!

landonorris i don’t think that’s enough ink to call yourself a tatted man mate

yourusername maybe i should make another appointment 🤔

carlossainz55 don’t give her ideas you muppet 🤦🏻

user i didn’t know they had matching tattoos that’s so cute 😭

user sleeping on the highway tonite

october 17, 2022

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yourusername how could i say no when my date looked like that? 🤭

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carlossainz55 can’t wait to spend forever with you mi amor ❤️

maxverstappen1 congratulations you two! 😘😘

carmenmmundt so so thrilled for you both! love you 🫶🏻

yourusername i love you my girl, get ready to try on a loooot of dresses 😅

user EVERYONE remembers where they were when this post dropped

user i remember dropping my phone on my face when i opened instagram

user i cried happy tears, had been waiting for that day for years 🥹

august 15, 2023

carlossainz55

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carlossainz55 can’t believe i finally get to call you my wife. just you and me, always and forever, te amo yn ❤️

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yourusername te amo y te amaré por siempre, mi carlitos (i love you and i’ll you forever, my carlitos)

user “mi carlitos” oh god i’m sobbing

landonorris congratulations, you two were made for each other ! 🥰

yourusername your boyfriend is now my husband 😜

landonorris don’t even remind me about it.

charles_leclerc so happy for you two ❤️❤️

user can’t believe i’ve been following carlos since the beggining of their relationship and now they’re married

user omg don’t even talk to me abt it i feel like a proud mother

september 28, 2024

the end

[nadvs]

hard to ignore (two-shot) (part one)

pairing singledad! zach maclaren x nanny! female reader

summary when you’re offered a job as a nanny, you can tell right away that you’ll grow fond of the little girl you’re taking care of. things are easy to manage until you realize you’re falling for her dad.

author’s note hugs to @nemesyaaa for sharing the idea of singledad!zach. i couldn’t stop writing (and the one-shot hit 15k words and became a two-shot… i love slowburn…) hurt and comfort. fluff. no smut. divider credit.

content warning parental abandonment

» masterlist

Zach is sure, without a doubt, that he has already lived the best day of his life.

The moment he held Ella in his arms was when the world bloomed into a color he didn’t know existed. Nothing could ever and would ever top that feeling.

He didn’t expect that before thirty, he’d already experience the worst day of his life, too. But he’s certain he has.

He was in a fog, a bad dream he kept trying to wake himself up from. He had stepped into the guest room to see a piece of paper on Jade’s bed and he knew before he even unfolded the letter that she was gone.

He read the last line of the letter over and over again. I can’t live like this anymore. Deep down, he always feared that she would give up on them. But not like this. And not this soon.

After Ella was born, bitterness permanently etched itself into Jade’s face. To her, the baby was always a mistake and Zach stopped being someone she loved and became nothing but the man she regretfully had a child with.

She became the antithesis of the girl he fell for. The love they’d once had was replaced with a cold distance. She started sleeping in the guest room. She ate her meals alone. She left the house as much as she could.

Still, he respected that she had learned to tolerate motherhood. While she didn’t love being a stay-at-home mom, he didn’t think she hated it.

But then she left. And if she could abandon them like this, four years in, not even having it in her to look into her little girl’s eyes to say goodbye, then that tolerance had a cruel end.

That’s why now, a month after her sudden departure, Zach is sitting in his living room, fingers curling the corner of the resume belonging to the woman scheduled to arrive in a few minutes.

Dishes clatter as his mother tidies up his kitchen. Normally, he’d feel guilty and nag her to sit down. But things aren’t normal and he’ll take all the help he can get. It’s been an uphill battle trying to pick up the pieces on his own.

His family drove in a few nights ago. They offered to visit as soon as he called with the news, but he didn’t want to put Ella through too much at once, so he waited a few weeks. Once he asked them to come, they dropped everything and set out for the four-hour car ride.

Ella’s playing in the backyard with her grandpa and aunt while Connie helps Zach run interviews. His team’s managers were understanding when he asked for time off, but Zach can’t be away forever. With his training and match schedule, he needs to find a nanny.

He’d rather not introduce a new person into her life, especially this soon, but it’s unavoidable. At least with a nanny, he can control that Ella will always be in the comfort of her home. A place she knows.

Moments like these, he wishes he hadn’t been drafted to a team a state away. If he’d stayed close to his hometown, Ella would see both sets of grandparents more often and he’d have dependable childcare until he figured out how to function as a single dad.

Zach looks over his shoulder through the window, swallowing the lump in his throat when he sees his daughter running circles around her grandpa in the morning sun. The chime of the doorbell throws him out of his trance.

Soft blue eyes meet yours when the door swings open. The stranger on the other side is tall and handsome and younger than you expected, his half-smile clouded by sorrow. You introduce yourself and he offers you a firm but gentle handshake.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Zach. Come in.”

You trail him into the large house, mind already racing with the potential of it becoming your workplace. The agency had set up the interview. You don’t know much about the client, except that he has a four-year-old daughter and that he requested a nanny who’s adaptable to a changing schedule.

After meeting Ella’s grandmother, you settle on a couch and make small talk and answer their questions. You learn that Zach is a professional soccer player and that his work can be demanding and inconsistent, but with your apartment being close by, you assure him that you’re reliable and flexible.

By the end of the interview, the idea of a nanny doesn’t make Zach nearly as uneasy as it did an hour ago. You’re kind and experienced and knowledgeable and every time you see his little girl through the window, you smile in pure endearment.

Zach likes the idea of his daughter being around someone joyful. Jade grew to be so cold that Ella learned to go to her dad whenever she wanted to feel reassured and loved. It’s comforting to imagine her growing to like you, maybe even love you, and to be met with the same warmth she’s so full of.

The rest of the interviews go fine, but Zach has always operated on gut feelings and you’re a clear winner. His mom agrees.

────୨ৎ────

After an agency rep calls to tell you that you’ve been offered a trial period, you spend five days at the house getting to know Ella while Zach shadows to answer your questions. He’s friendly and helpful, but visibly tense.

The final afternoon, you’re playing with Ella in the living room when Zach’s phone rings. Ella rushes over to his side, asking if it’s her mommy calling. You notice the nervous way his jaw clenches when he kneels to the floor.

“It’s grandma,” he tells her, holding his phone out so the camera will capture them both.

You pretend you didn’t hear Ella's question. You know nothing about her mom and you wouldn’t dare risk crossing a boundary by asking.

Soon after the call, Ella’s drawing at the dining table while you and Zach periodically glance across the room to check on her from the kitchen. He’s been teaching you how he prepares Ella’s favorite foods. He likes that you write everything down, asking him for details down to exact measurements. If he wasn’t sure that you took the happiness of his daughter seriously before, he is now.

He already told the story to his family and to Jade’s parents and to his closest friends, but that was with people he knew well. People who could comfort him. He’s not sure how to share with you that she left, but he wants to hire you, and this is something you should be aware of.

After he slides a pan into the oven, he stands to face you, towering over you as he wipes his hands with a tea towel.

“You have the job if you want it,” Zach says quietly. You smile at him appreciatively. You weren’t feeling confident, considering how on edge he’s been, but you realize it must not have been you he was nervous about.

“Thank you,” you reply. “I do.”

He nods, looking down as he leans against the kitchen island, and says, “She starts kindergarten next fall. You’d be alright with part-time hours then?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Uh, you should know…” he says, turning his head to look over at his daughter, “her mom left. A little over a month ago. It was out of the blue.”

Your heart twists in pain at his words, at the agony that draws itself into his face.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, staring up at his profile. Zach blinks a few times, gazing at his daughter. You press your lips together, wishing you knew what to say.

“Ella didn’t get a goodbye,” he tells you. Neither did he, not a real one, but that’s irrelevant. “I told her that her mom chose to leave and I don’t know why she made that choice, but I’m not going anywhere. If she brings it up, please say the same.”

“I will,” you reply with an understanding nod, “and only if she mentions it first.”

“Thank you,” Zach says. “I’ll be honest with you. I really don’t want someone to leave her again. You are planning on staying as long as we need you, right? Even when the hours get shorter during the school year?”

He had that same note of desperation in his voice when he asked you about your commitment to the job during the interview, too.

“Yes,” you assure him. “I understand that she needs stability right now.”

Based on the way Zach’s eyes lower, you can tell he needs stability, too. His wife not only left him, but she left him with their child. You can’t imagine the hole that it dug in his heart.

“Thanks,” he says. He takes a breath. He wasn’t strong enough not to cry when he told Ella her mom was gone and he’ll always hate himself for it, but at least he kept his tears from falling this time.

“Do you want to ask her what she thinks about it?” you offer. “I can go put away her laundry to give you some privacy.”

Zach nods in agreement. And as he expected, when he asks his daughter if she’d like for you to hang around here more often after he goes back to work, she gives him an enthusiastic yes.

You’re purposely slow with the laundry to give them time. You come back into the kitchen to see Ella happily eating a freshly baked muffin and swinging her feet, smiling up at her father as he sits next to her at the dining table.

“My daddy said you’re gonna be here every day,” she says to you with a grin, overjoyed by the news.

“Not every day,” Zach corrects her gently. “But most days.”

“Try this!” Ella exclaims, stretching her arm out towards you, the muffin in her fist. The way you happily accept the food even though it’s reduced to smushed fragments in his child’s small hand makes Zach’s heart feel a little lighter.

“That’s delicious,” you say after you take a bite, settling at the table across from them.

Zach’s still getting used to having a woman around who’s so sweet to his child. Jade would hardly ever accept Ella’s offers to share her food, telling him that saying yes to everything would only raise a spoiled child.

“My daddy’s the bestest cook,” she proudly says.

“Best,” Zach corrects. “Thank you, honey.”

“He really is,” you reply. “I don’t know how I’ll fill his shoes, but I’ll try my best.”

Ella’s face pinches in confusion as she kneels over in her booster seat to look under the table.

“I think his shoes will be too big for you,” she mumbles, pointing to your feet. You laugh, meeting Zach’s gaze, seeing the first genuine smile on his face. You didn’t know he had dimples.

He can’t remember the last time he laughed, really laughed, with someone like this. Life’s dealt him a tough hand, but you’ve given him relief.

────୨ৎ────

Zach is organized. So organized that it sort of amazes you. Not only does he give you his, and in turn, your work schedule a month in advance through a color-coded calendar, but he also provides you with a meal plan for Ella so that you don’t have to worry about making one yourself.

The first day on your own with her is perfect. She’s energetic, well-behaved, and loves to talk. Zach left for training at noon and you were surprised that he found the time to text as much as he did. You replied to his every message asking for updates, sharing what you’re doing and reassuring him that Ella’s doing okay.

He gets home an hour after Ella’s bedtime. He’s been on edge all day, worrying that all this was too much, too fast for his little girl. Maybe he should have taken more time off.

You’re finishing up loading the dishwasher when you hear his keys jingling. You turn to greet him as he paces into the kitchen.

“Hey, how was bedtime?” he asks.

“We read three books and she asked me to stay with her until she fell asleep,” you tell him. “No issues.”

Zach sighs in relief. He never liked afternoon training because he missed bedtime. Ella preferred bedtime with her dad over with her mom. She preferred everything with her dad, really. But hearing that she wanted you to stay is reassuring.

“And she ate well?” he asks. He settles on one of the stools lining the kitchen counter, watching you cross the room to stand opposite him.

“Yes,” you tell him. “She was great.”

“Sorry if I was annoying with all the texts,” he says with a small, apologetic smile.

“You weren’t, but I wanted to let you know that it’s okay if you want to set up cameras. I know some parents like having live video they can tune into throughout the day.” You’d already noticed the security cameras outside when you first came to the house. You understand why he’d be so protective.

Zach threads his fingers through his dirty blond hair, damp from the shower he took in the training center’s locker room.

“Alright, I was definitely annoying if you’re offering to be surveilled,” he mumbles with a chuckle.

“No,” you laugh. “Ella did get a little frustrated, though. We were playing princesses and she said princesses aren’t supposed to go on their phones this much.”

Zach breathes a laugh. You’ve only been here for six days, but he hasn’t smiled this much in a long time.

“Thank you for all your work today,” he says. “I won’t keep you any longer.” You give him a bright smile and wish him a good night before you head out.

When Zach trudges upstairs, he peeks into Ella’s room. She’s sleeping peacefully, curled up with her favorite plushie. Now that he has a semblance of normalcy back in his life, he realizes that beneath the sadness and betrayal, he feels anger.

It’s not typical of him to feel angry. But Jade set everything ablaze when she abandoned them and he’s been left in the ashes, trying to stay level-headed while he’s choking on smoke.

He knows he lost Jade’s heart long ago. She lost his, too. It’s the fact that she broke their daughter’s without any hesitation – that’s what kills him.

────୨ৎ────

Zach never takes you up on the offer to have cameras installed. He starts to let go, little by little, eventually going a full day without sending a single check-in text. It’s gratifying to know you’ve earned his trust.

Before you know it, you’ve been Ella’s nanny for two months. She’s made herself a home in your heart. The only way you’d ever leave her is if you were told to, and you can’t even imagine being fired. Zach often checks in to see if you’re happy with your job and asks if there’s anything he can do to make things better. He clearly values you and doesn’t want to lose you.

It’s mid-morning when you’re playing with Ella on the living room floor and Zach comes through the front door. She rushes to him and you smile as you watch him drop his duffle bag and happily scoop his daughter up.

He had an away game last night and flew in early. His skin is blanched, dark half-circles under his eyes, but like always, he finds energy for his daughter. You admire it about him, how she’s never too much for him.

“There’s a plate for you in the kitchen,” you tell him when he meets your gaze.

“You don’t have to–”

“I know,” you say with a laugh. Zach has already told you many times that Ella’s the only one you have to feed, but you can tell he appreciates coming home to a meal. “There were leftovers.”

“Were there?” he asks, brows quirked, an unconvinced smirk on his lips.

You shrug and laugh again. You’ve grown into a friendly level of comfort with each other and you appreciate how you can joke around with him.

Zach sits in the dining room to eat, listening to Ella tell him all about her playdate yesterday. You tidy up the living room as you overhear her chat about how her friend was showing her ballet poses and how badly she wants lessons.

You’d sent Zach a courtesy text before you fell asleep in the guest room last night: We had a great day. She had a lot of fun on the playdate. Just so you’re prepared, she’s VERY into ballet now and is going to ask you if she can get lessons. Sending some options. Then, you sent him a few links to children’s dance classes in town.

You woke up to two texts from him. The first said: Appreciate the warning and the research. Am I crazy for holding on to hope that she’ll like soccer one day? You smiled at your screen. You’d briefly talked with Zach about how Ella has no interest in the sport her father dedicated his career to.

The second text from him, sent fifteen minutes later, read: Would you be alright with taking her to 6-6:45 pm classes on Wednesdays when I can’t? The season starts next week.

You replied when you woke up: Definitely.

You enter the dining room to see Ella hanging off her dad’s shoulders while he tries to eat, continuing to rattle on about how she’d never miss a lesson and would always listen in class.

“Alright, take a breath,” he chuckles. When he tells her you found her a class at a studio uptown and that he’ll enroll her if she’s sure she can commit, she squeals in delight. She hugs Zach, then runs over to hug you, too, nearly knocking you over.

“Easy,” her dad tells her. Ella asks you to turn on the ballet music playlist you found for her yesterday and launches into twirls across the living room.

“Remember what I said,” you tell her over the music. “If you start to get dizzy, you…?”

“Sit down, I know!” she shouts. You meet Zach’s eyes, both of you wearing smiles. You can see the fatigue on his face under the bright dining room light.

“Do you want me to stay another hour so you can catch up on sleep?” you offer. “I don’t mind.”

He knows his heart shouldn’t skip when he looks at you, but it does. He can’t help it. You don’t see this as a job you clock in and out of. You’ve integrated yourself into Ella’s life, into his life, so seamlessly. He doesn’t feel like you’re an employee here. You’re a friend who goes above and beyond to help. You’re someone who his daughter adores. You’re a beautiful person, inside and out.

He looks down at his plate, embarrassed, as if you can read his mind. His head has been doing this lately, rushing into thoughts of you that are much more than professional. He shouldn’t be thinking that his daughter’s nanny is beautiful.

“It’s okay,” he tells you. “You can head home. We’ll see you soon.”

You nod and call Ella over to look at the calendar Zach made. It’s a routine with her every time you leave. She likes knowing when you’ll be back.

When Zach heads upstairs to drop his things off into his bedroom, he stops when he passes the guest room. You left the door ajar. Even though you always keep it neat, only leaving an overnight bag on the nightstand, there’s a lived in feeling, a warmth in the room that never existed before.

Once again, he has to remind himself that you’re paid to be here. But it’s hard not to like you, because even when Jade was living here, he felt alone, whereas having you around makes it hard to ignore that life doesn’t feel all that empty anymore.

────୨ৎ────

“Which one’s yours?”

You look over to the man sitting next to you on the dance studio bleachers. Young girls hop and whirl over the glossy hardwood floor in a sea of pink tutus, five minutes into their lesson.

“Oh, I’m...” You point to Ella. “Her nanny.”

Ella’s been in ballet for a few weeks now and it’s all she talks about. Zach’s schedule allows him to take her to most of her classes, but this is the second one you’ve come to and you can see just how much she enjoys it.

You make small-talk with the man and a few other parents, which makes the time pass quickly. When you get back to the house, Ella scarfs down her dinner and falls asleep during the first book you read her. You’re sitting in the living room when Zach comes home from training.

He’s nearing playoff season and he’s mentioned that he has much more practices booked in his schedule. At this point, he welcomes how you always pretend to accidentally make too much food. He doesn’t expect you to prepare meals for him, but after you’d reassured him that you don’t mind since you’re cooking anyway, he’s relieved to know he’ll have dinner waiting for him tonight.

“Hey,” you greet him from your spot on the couch. “Ballet was the best idea ever. It really tires her out. Bedtime was a breeze.”

“Right?” Zach says with a smile, pulling off his jacket. You look away to avoid gaping at his biceps under his t-shirt. You thought he was good-looking the moment you met him and getting to know him has only made him more attractive.

“I’ve been wanting to ask if you’d like any help with her birthday,” you offer, turning the tv off and standing up. Ella’s fifth birthday is in a month.

“I have some ideas for her party that I’d like your opinion on,” Zach tells you. “Do you want to stay for a few minutes? Or I can just text you.”

“I can stay.”

He’s relieved to hear it. He doesn’t have many moments with you alone. Usually you’re like passing ships in the night, chatting for just a couple of minutes to catch each other up about Ella before one of you leaves the house, so any window of time with you is something he welcomes. Your presence is comforting.

You sit at the kitchen island together. Zach eats as you scroll through his phone, gazing at screenshots of party ideas he saved.

“Oh, she’d love this,” you say, stopping at a photo of ballerina-themed cupcakes. He gazes at you in awe as you look down at the screen. You’re genuinely delighted at the idea of giving his little girl a perfect birthday. “Do you want to have the party here?”

“Yeah, do you think that’s a good idea?” he asks.

“Yeah. If you’re worried about decorating or cleaning up, I’d come early and stay late,” you tell him, continuing to scroll. “She deserves something big.”

He nods, swallowing down his food, too distracted to go for another bite. He can’t wrap his head around how sweet you are. You have no connection to Ella at all, but you treat her like she’s yours. Sometimes more than her own mother did.

You’ve been here for nearly four months now, which in the grand scheme of things really isn’t that long, but he likes that you have such a deep sincerity to you that he can trust that you care about Ella. That you won’t leave.

You look up at him and he glances away, worried he’s been caught staring, clearing his throat.

“Do you know how many people you’re thinking of inviting?” you ask as you hand him back his phone.

Zach’s face falls as he scratches the back of his neck. You’re suddenly tense, the air of familiarity between you now thick and uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure,” he says.

“Sorry,” you say, nervous you crossed a line. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You didn’t,” he reassures you. “Sorry. I’ve just been going back and forth on whether I should invite her grandparents. From her mom’s side, I mean.”

“That must be hard,” you empathize.

“They’ve offered to visit a few times, but Ella hated the idea. She doesn’t even want to talk to them on the phone.”

“Was she like that before?” You don’t have to spell it out for him to know what you mean by before. The topic of Ella’s mom’s abandonment has been a silent cloud hanging over both of you.

“No,” Zach says. “I think she makes the connection that they’re her mom’s parents and she doesn’t want to be reminded of her.”

His lips close into a firm line.

“Well, I admire how you respect her comfort level and let her make decisions,” you say. “Maybe you start the conversation about who to invite and mention the grandparents to gauge her reaction?”

Zach nods, trying not to let his heart get carried away with the way it pounds from your words. He’s received compliments on his parenting from his friends and family, but you see the type of father he is more than anyone else these days. He cares about your opinion and it feels good to hear you approve.

“That’s a good idea,” he says. His fork clatters against his dish and he takes a deep breath before asking what’s been spinning in his head. “I figure you’d tell me, but… she hasn’t mentioned her mom, has she?”

You shake your head no. His forehead wrinkles in concern and it sends a pang to your chest. You lean a little closer, crossing the invisible boundary between you for the first time.

“She could just be processing,” you tell him. “And it might take her a while to talk about it. But she’s okay. She’s resilient. She got it from you.”

Zach hopes that he’s not blushing, but his cheeks are burning. He’s sure you’d be able to tell, but thankfully, you look down and stand straight again, as if what you just said wasn’t one of the most significantly unforgettable things he’s ever been told.

Ella is practically a physical copy of her mother. Zach never minded. But hearing that you think his daughter inherited his adaptability, one thing he’s always prided himself on, feels good.

He wasn’t very confident that he’s been doing a great job at adjusting since Jade left and you just lifted a weight off his shoulders without even realizing it.

“Thank you,” he says. You desperately want to ask how he’s been since his wife left, but you’re afraid you’ve already crossed a line with your boss tonight and you certainly don’t want to risk doing it again.

“Sure,” you reply. “I should go. But I’ll let you know if I think of any ideas for the party. I think the ballerina theme is the way to go. This place will be so pink.”

Zach laughs, trying to ignore the way his chest hollows when you expand the distance between you, stepping away.

“Can’t wait,” he says. “Thanks for dinner.”

“There were leftovers,” you reply, even though both of you are already well aware that every time you say that, it’s not true.

────୨ৎ────

It’s only half an hour into Ella’s birthday party and you’re spent. You’re reaching for napkins from the cupboard to clean up a spill in the dining room. When you turn out of the kitchen, a girl runs past you, tripping and accidentally pouring most of her juice onto your dress.

“Sorry,” she says worryingly, eyes wide as she stares up at you.

“It’s okay,” you reply with a giggle, dabbing at the fabric with one of the napkins. “I came prepared.”

Zach just entered the room, witnessing the moment, wondering if he’s ever going to see you do anything that won’t just push him deeper into his crush on you. But once again, his head is no match for his heart when it comes to you.

He’s been trying not to lose his mind today and it’s not because of the chaotic party that’s taken over his house. It’s because it’s the first time he’s seen you in a dress. While it’s appropriate for the occasion, it shows enough of your figure to make his mouth go dry.

You toss the napkin in the garbage, collect more, then start to make your way to the dining room, looking up to find Zach’s eyes.

“Hey,” you say over the noise. He realizes that your voice somehow settles his pulse and makes it race at the same time. “There might not be enough napkins in the world for this party.”

“Invite everyone she wants,” he teases, imitating the way you convinced him to go along with Ella’s idea to invite all twelve kids from her ballet class.

“I take it back,” you chuckle. When you move past him, the fresh scent of his cologne dances over you and it’s so nice that you don’t want to leave his side. But you shake away the thought and tidy up the spill, then head to the living room to mingle.

It’s better to keep your distance from Zach. You have to remind yourself of it almost every day now. You’d been spending more time together to plan Ella’s party and at this point, it’s actually frustrating how kind and funny and charming and perfect he is.

It took a few evenings of party-planning at the house, your voices low as Ella slept upstairs, to start to get to know each other outside of your job. You’ve learned little things about him, like that he’s left-handed, and that he has a sister ten years younger than him and growing up with her helped him practice parenting, and that he likes a cup of tea before bed because it relaxes him.

You also noticed that he drifts into a more timid version of himself whenever the topic of his profession comes up. You’d mentioned that Ella could eventually grow an interest in soccer, that you’d take her to one of his home games if she wanted, and he nodded with a shy smile, saying he liked the idea.

Every side of him is intriguing, and while your conversations haven’t fallen into anything too personal, you want to know more about him past the friendly distance that stands between you.

Ella quickly darts past Zach in the kitchen and he reminds her that tag is an outside game. He’s relieved that she seems happy and careless today.

He’d asked her about inviting her mom’s parents and she answered with a quiet no. He called them to tell them that this birthday would be too difficult to celebrate together and they understood, opting to send a present in the mail.

Zach is glad he took your advice. As he rounds the corner, he sees you chatting with Ella’s friend’s dad. You probably know him from ballet. Zach has spoken with him, too. He knows the man is divorced.

Jealousy swirls in his chest. He shouldn’t care about you talking to another man. Even though you’ve started to share more about your lives with each other and he’s pretty sure you’re single, you could have a boyfriend you haven’t mentioned.

Again, while he tells himself not to feel things for you, it’s so much easier said than done. He has to look away, wondering why he feels like someone who’s not even his is being taken from him.

All the stress leaves your body the minute the last attendee leaves through the front door. It was a great party, but it was exhausting.

Ella’s eating her dinner as you, Zach, and his family tackle the mess. You make conversation with her while you clean the kitchen, happy to hear her rave about what a good birthday she had.

She asks if you can cuddle her for bedtime. Zach overhears and trudges into the kitchen, crumpled decorations in his hands. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up and you try to ignore the fact that the mere sight of his forearms makes your stomach go numb with butterflies.

“It’s been a long day,” he says to you quietly. “I can take bedtime.”

“I got it,” you reply. He mirrors your smile. You like that he’s not the type of parent to be bitter that his own kid prefers you sometimes. He’s just happy that Ella’s happy.

When you’re leaning back in Ella’s bed, chatting as you wait for her to doze off, her arm is draped over your body and her cheek is on your shoulder. She’s grown to be totally comfortable with you, always taking the opportunity to be affectionate.

Your eyelids are heavy as you ramble about what she’ll be doing with her grandparents and aunt in the next few days, as they’ll be staying in town for a bit. Zach gave you the next three days off since childcare will be covered.

“I heard your grandma say something about taking you to the beach tomorrow,” you tell her. “Are you excited?”

“Will you come, too?” she asks. You chuckle softly, kissing the top of her head.

“I have work, remember?” you tell her. You and Zach had decided long ago that you don’t want to tell her you’re paid to be here, that your job is taking care of her. You always just refer to yourself as her dad’s friend.

“Okay,” she sighs. She lets out a big yawn. “If I tell someone my birthday wish, will it not become true anymore?”

“I’m pretty sure the rule is that you can tell one grown-up,” you play along, “and it’ll still come true.” She nuzzles in. You assume she’ll mention a gift she wanted but didn’t receive today.

“I wished that you were my mommy,” she mumbles into the dark.

Your throat tightens and your heart sinks and you hate that the sweet, innocent child clinging onto you has to carry the weight of being abandoned. You kiss the top of her head again and try not to cry.

“I love you, okay?” you tell her. She nods and squeezes you tighter and within minutes, her breathing grows deeper.

When you head downstairs, you see that almost all of the mess has been tidied up. Zach is hauling a full garbage bag to the front door, giving you a tired smile when he sees you.

“Do you need any help with–”

“Go home,” he interrupts, faking irritation. You laugh in defeat.

“Fine.” You step into the living room to say goodbye to his family, antsy to have some time to yourself so that you don’t have to force down your tears any longer.

A few seconds after the door shuts behind you, Zach remembers that he’d set aside a container of leftover treats from the party for you.

You pace down the sidewalk into the cool evening air, unlocking your car remotely, unable to stop your tears from building. When you hear Zach call your name, you quickly wipe at your eyes, realizing you’ve smudged your make-up.

“There were leftovers,” he says when you turn to look at him.

“That’s my line,” you try to joke. You take the container. “Thanks.”

He notices the shine in your eyes immediately.

“Are you alright?” Zach asks softly. You gaze up at him, heart breaking a little more at the concern in his expression.

“Just a busy day,” you tell him.

“Did something happen?”

“No,” you say quickly. “Or– yeah, but I was going to tell you later. Without the tears.” You offer a pathetic laugh to break the tension, but he’s too worried to laugh, too.

“What is it?” he asks.

You look up to Ella’s bedroom window. The first time you’d walked up to this house, you were oblivious to the fact that the two people living in it would steal your heart. You know you need to tell him what his daughter said. But you’d hoped you’d have more time to process it.

“Before bed,” you say, your voice thin, “she told me she wished I was her mom.”

It takes all the air out of Zach’s lungs. He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s without words. He crosses his arms, looking down at the pavement.

“I know. It’s a lot,” you mumble. Your temples ache as more tears build up, frustrated that this is Zach and Ella’s reality. “It just makes me so sad. I don’t want to say anything bad about your ex-wife, but I don’t understand how she could just leave you two. Has she not called to check in on her? Or to wish her a happy birthday?”

Your heart starts to thrum even harder. Your words were impulsive, surprising you even though you’re the one who said them, and the fear that you just crossed a line and exposed your feelings for him rushes through you.

“No,” is all Zach is able to say. He stares at you, speechless, biting the inside of his cheek.

“When Ella said… what she said, I told her that I love her,” you say. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is,” he says, his tone tender. Your lips twist into a sad smile. You want to hug him. But you step back. Because he’s still your boss and you don’t want him to think you can’t remain professional. You’re already anxious and regretful that you brought up Ella’s mom.

“Thank you,” you say. “I should go. Good night.”

Zach’s dazed the rest of the evening. He watches you drive off. He goes back inside to finish cleaning up. He spends time with his parents and sister, but soon heads upstairs to sleep, too distracted to keep up conversation.

His mind keeps him awake as he lies in bed. He stares up at the darkened ceiling, watching the shadow of the trees by his window rustle in the wind. In a matter of a minute, your relationship reached a new level of vulnerability.

And now that he has time to wade through his feelings, beneath the pain he feels for Ella and what she told you, he can’t deny that his heart fluttered when you said you don’t understand how someone could leave him and his daughter. Maybe you feel the same way about him.

This is not just a crush. He’s falling for you.

────୨ৎ────

You stare at the text Zach sent you a few minutes ago as you brush your teeth the next morning.

Sorry for bothering you on your day off but Ella has asked me about 50 times (give or take) if I can ask you to come to the beach today. I told her you’re busy but you know her. No pressure but we’d all love to have you. Would count as a work day, of course.

It was already hard to keep your feelings for Zach at bay when all you can think about is his smile and his voice and the way he makes you feel more comfortable than any man ever has, but now, you’re afraid it might be awkward when you see him. You’d said something so heavy last night, then left abruptly.

Nonetheless, the love you have for Ella and the love you’re starting to have for Zach is louder than the worry you’re feeling.

You reply: Don’t count it as work. It’s how I’d like to spend my day off. When and where?

A minute later, he sends you the address and time.

It’s late morning when you text Zach that you’ve arrived at the beach. He heads to the parking lot, leaving his parents, sister, and daughter by the shoreline so that he can speak to you alone. He hates that he was too in shock to thank you last night. But it was all so much to take in.

He spots you pulling a bag out of your trunk, greeting you with a soft “hey” to not startle you. It’s so nice to know that you’re here because you want to be.

You turn to see Zach in his swim shorts, his hair wet, water droplets scattered atop his muscles. You close the trunk, hoping he didn’t catch the way your eyes lingered.

“Hey. What’d you tell Ella about the ‘work’ I had today?” you ask, trying to establish a lighthearted tone. “Did my boss let me leave early?”

“We can say that,” he says with a smile. “He sounds like a good guy.”

“He is. It’s my other boss that’s kind of a nightmare,” you joke.

Zach takes you in, squinting a bit.

“You don’t really think of me as your boss, do you?” he asks, realizing he hates the implication. It makes him feel like even thinking about you as more than a friend is deeply unethical. Like there’s a power imbalance and he’s taking advantage of it somehow.

You still for a moment.

“I mean, I don’t know,” you chuckle. “It doesn’t feel like it, but aren’t you?”

“I guess.” His brows furrow. “It just doesn’t sound right.”

“How about we say… Ella’s my boss? And yours, too, now that I think about it.”

Zach laughs, “That works for me.” He nervously crosses his arms. “Uh… before we go, I wanted to thank you for handling last night so well. I think you said exactly what she needed to hear.”

Your face drops slightly. Remembering the way Ella sounded when she told you her wish, resigned but hopeful, breaks your heart every time you think about it.

“Of course,” you say. It’s a relief that he’s not upset about anything you said. “Is she doing okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Being her usual self. I didn’t tell her you were coming, so she’ll be excited.” The way you smile at the idea of making her happy is something he’s grown to adore about you.

You make your way to the shoreline, and as expected, Ella squeals when she sees you, running straight for you. You crouch to hug her tightly, thrilled that you were invited today.

You sit on a line of towels with Zach and his parents and his sister while Ella explains to you what kind of sandcastle she wants to make. You make conversation with everyone over the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the shore and eventually, you point out a small rubber ball by the cooler.

“You wanna play soccer?” you ask Ella.

“I’m not good at it,” she replies.

“You have the best coach right here,” you say, pointing to Zach. “Let’s give it a try. Maybe we can all work together to score a goal against your dad.”

Zach smiles in surprise when Ella actually agrees. You help him create a makeshift goal line with pebbles and shells as Ella kicks the ball over the sand with her grandparents and aunt. After you set up, you join Ella while Zach makes an exaggerated show of stretching.

“Is that how you always warm up?” you ask him.

“Is there something wrong with it?” he answers. Ella laughs as he dramatically stretches. By now, you can tell by the type of dad he is that he was always on the playful side.

Ella imitates his stretching, then determination flashes over her face and she darts forward to try to kick the ball past him without warning. Zach pretends to be too slow to react, reaching after the ball has already whizzed past him, and lets out a defeated groan.

He picks his daughter up as she jumps in victory, jokingly demanding she tell him when she got so good at soccer. You smile as you watch them share a moment of joy in the sun.

“Ella, would you ever want to go to one of your dad’s games?” you offer.

“Yeah!” she exclaims.

“Yeah?” Zach says. “Why don’t you say yeah whenever I ask?”

“Just take the win, Zach,” you say with a laugh. He grins, loving the way his name sounds when it comes from you.

You enjoy the rest of the afternoon, talking with Zach’s family, playing with Ella, catching glances at Zach when he’s not looking. They invite you to dinner, but you politely decline, figuring you should give them time alone. You thank them for the fun and go home feeling lighter than you did when you woke up.

That evening, as Connie helps Zach clean up after dinner, she mentions how good you are for Ella. He glances down at his mom as she hands him a rinsed plate to put in the dishwasher.

“She really is,” Zach agrees.

“I think she’s good for you, too,” she says with a hint of a smile.

“Real subtle, Mom,” he chuckles nervously. “It’s not like that.”

“Alright,” she says with an unconvinced tone. She takes a beat. “I just need to say–”

“Of course you do,” he mumbles with an amused smirk.

“–that I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time,” she speaks over him. “I haven’t seen you be you. But you are again, especially when she’s around. It’s just nice to see you smiling so much again. I know things have been tough for you.”

Zach’s teeth dig into his bottom lip. His mom is right; things have been tough, even before Jade left. He desperately wanted companionship, to at least come home to someone he could call a friend, but Jade couldn’t give him what he needed. He hasn’t felt full of life in a long time. Not until you knocked on his door.

“I’m better now,” he says.

Connie nods, sadness filling her features as she pulls Zach in for a side-hug.

“Hey, I’m alright,” he consoles her. “Don't worry about me.”

“You’re a parent. You should know the worrying never stops.” She pulls back. “So, you’re really going to deny it? I see the way you look at her.”

Zach shakes his head with an exaggerated scoff.

“You’re relentless,” he jokes.

“You used to tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Alright,” she sighs. “She looks at you the same way, you know.”

“Mom.”

Connie laughs and hands him another plate. He knows that the idea of you looking at him the way he looks at you won’t leave his mind any time soon.

(part two)

[harryssyndrome]

Hoax | h.s

summery: “don’t want no other shade blue but you. No other sadness in the world would do…”

based off this request. Thank you so much anon for this idea, this was so fun writing and I hope it’s something you were looking for. I tried to be as angsty as possible with a blend of cutesy sweet, hope it’s a perfect mix. Let me know in the comments? [thank you! mwah mwah mwah 💋]

Posted on: November 26th, 2024. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM. Like, comment & reblog are appreciated 💓Italics are past memories. Hope you lovelies enjoy this little big piece.

wc: 6.6k (oops🤭) || Masterlist 🤍

Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 @wheredidmyeyesgo @cherryloveshs | TAGLIST IS OPEN! || REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! 💌

The morning had started just like any other, the sun streaming in through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over everything, but YN barely noticed. She sat at the counter, her hands curled around a coffee mug, its warmth barely a match for the cold ache building inside her. The apartment felt empty, despite the soft hum of the city just outside the window. She could feel the weight of the silence pressing down on her, a silence that had grown more oppressive over the past few weeks.

Harry had been on tour for what seemed like forever now, and their communication had dwindled. What had once been late-night calls and stolen moments between sound checks had turned into rushed, distracted conversations, where he was either too busy or too tired to give her his full attention. YN had always known the demands of his career, had always been willing to share him with the world, but it was starting to feel like he was slipping further away from her.

She had tried to be understanding, tried to remind herself that this was just a phase—that he was only gone for a while, and they would find their way back to each other. But today felt different. Something in the air was charged with tension, a sense of dread that hung around her like a cloud. Harry had promised to call her during his break between rehearsals, and as the minutes ticked by, that sense of unease only grew. She hadn’t heard from him, not even a text to explain why.

When the phone finally rang, she grabbed it with an anxious breath, hoping for the reassurance she so desperately needed.

“Hey, babe,” Harry’s voice crackled through the phone, distant and strained. There was a tiredness in his voice that made her heart ache even more.

“Hi,” she replied softly, trying to keep her tone light, but the worry slipped out anyway. “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about me.”

Harry didn’t immediately answer, and YN could feel him shifting on the other end, perhaps looking for the right words, or maybe just gathering the energy to engage with her. “I didn’t forget,” he said after a beat, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “It’s just… things are hectic right now. You know how it is.”

YN frowned, her fingers tightening around her mug. She knew how it was. She knew that Harry’s tour schedule was demanding, that he barely had time to breathe, let alone talk to her. But it was different now. It had been different for weeks, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“I get it, Harry,” she said softly, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. “But it feels like we haven’t really talked in days. I feel like I’m losing you.”

The words hung in the air between them, thick with unspoken emotions. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to accuse him of pulling away, but she couldn’t ignore what was happening anymore. She missed him. She missed the way they used to connect, how they’d stay up all night talking about their dreams and fears, how they’d laugh until their stomachs ached. Now, it felt like all they did was talk about logistics and time zones. She wanted more than that.

Harry let out a heavy sigh, and for a moment, she thought he was going to apologize, that he would offer the comfort she so desperately needed. But instead, his voice grew colder, his words sharper. “You miss me? Maybe you miss the version of me that you had before all of this. But I’m not the same person anymore, YNN. I’m just tired. Tired of feeling like I’m constantly being pulled in a million directions.”

Her heart sank at his words, the finality in them hitting her harder than she had expected. “What does that mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s words came out in a rush, almost like he couldn’t stop them, as if they were coming from a place deeper than he intended. “It means that I don’t have the energy for this right now. I don’t have the energy to keep pretending that everything is fine when it’s not. And maybe I’m just tired of pretending that you’re not asking for more than I can give. Maybe I need space. Maybe we both need space.”

The words stabbed her. She felt them deep in her chest, each one like a dagger, twisting further with every breath. “Space?” she echoed, barely able to form the word, the hurt creeping into her voice despite her best efforts to hold it back. “I’m not asking for space, Harry. I’m just asking for you. For the person you promised me you’d always be.”

Harry didn’t respond right away, and when he did, his voice was tight, defensive. “Maybe that person isn’t here anymore, YNN. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to say.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. YN could hear the faint rustling of something on his end of the phone, the noise of people moving in the background, but it didn’t matter. The emptiness between them felt so loud, so unbearable. The connection that once held them together was fraying, thread by thread.

She swallowed hard, the tears welling in her eyes. “Fine,” she said, her voice breaking as she spoke. “If that’s how you feel, then I guess I’ll leave.”

The words came out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted them. But the damage was done. The silence that followed was deafening, and the weight of Harry’s absence felt so heavy, so crushing, that she could barely breathe. The person she loved, the person she had given everything to, had just told her he was done. He was tired of her.

Before she could say another word, she ended the call. The click of the phone disconnecting felt like the final nail in the coffin, sealing whatever it was that they had left.

YN sat there for a long moment, staring at the phone in her hand as if it were some foreign object. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her mind was numb, her thoughts tangled in confusion and hurt. The apartment, their shared space, felt so small now. It felt suffocating. Every corner of the place was a reminder of everything that had once been good, everything that was now falling apart.

Tears blurred her vision as she stood up from the counter. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know where to go. But she couldn’t stay there. Not with him, not with the words he had just said. The love they had built felt like ashes, and she couldn’t breathe in the smoke any longer.

She started packing her things, her movements automatic, like she was on autopilot. Her hands shook as she threw clothes into a bag, not caring if they matched or if they were folded neatly. Nothing mattered in that moment except the urgent need to get away from the place that had once been home. She ignored the phone buzzing with messages, messages from Harry, apologizing, pleading with her to call him back. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not after the things he had said.

When she finished packing, she grabbed her bags and walked out the door. The apartment felt even emptier as she closed the door behind her. There were no more goodbyes, no more promises. Just the echo of his hurtful words ringing in her ears.

YN drove to her parents’ house in a daze, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened, about how quickly their love had unraveled. She needed space to think. To breathe. To figure out how to move on from this. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple.

It wasn’t just a fight. It was something deeper. Something that couldn’t be fixed with apologies.

When she pulled into the driveway, she didn’t feel the relief she thought she would. Instead, the silence that had followed her from their apartment seemed to follow her here. Even the familiar sight of her childhood home didn’t offer the comfort it once had. It all felt distant. Empty. Just like her heart.

She stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her with a soft click. As she walked up to the front door, her phone buzzed again. She ignored it. She couldn’t bear to look at it. She couldn’t bear to see his name flashing on the screen. The man she loved had just shattered her heart into a million pieces, and she didn’t know how to pick them up.

The night had been a blur for Harry. The anger, the disappointment, the gnawing guilt in his chest from the argument with YN—it was all too much to bear. In the solitude of his hotel room, far from her, he drowned out the pain with alcohol. He knew he had messed up, knew he had hurt her with his words, but the overwhelming pressure of being on tour, the constant demand of being a public figure, and the exhaustion had driven him to the brink. He had never intended for it to escalate the way it did, but in his drunken haze, it all came crashing down.

Somewhere between the blurry shots and the endless stream of drinks, he found himself in a bar, surrounded by strangers, feeling more alone than he had in a long time. His phone was buzzing on the table, the screen lighting up with YN’s name flashing, but he didn’t pick it up. The coldness in his heart had become too unbearable, and he pushed her away instead of confronting the hurt he had caused. He just wanted the world to stop spinning for a moment. He wanted to forget everything that had gone wrong.

And that was when Emily Ratajkowski had walked in.

They had known each other for years, casually friendly in the way celebrities often are when their circles overlap. Emily, ever the charmer, had greeted Harry with a friendly smile. They sat and talked, their conversation casual at first, just the usual small talk about work and life. But Harry, caught in his haze of regret, had let his guard down. The more they talked, the more the words flowed. In some strange way, it felt easy to talk to her—like she was a stranger he could confide in, someone who didn’t carry the same weight of their past, the years of intimacy and history he shared with YN.

It didn’t take long before the alcohol took its toll. Emily’s laughter had filled the air, and Harry had found himself leaning closer, her presence soothing in a way that made him forget the ache in his chest. Before he knew it, they were kissing. His mind screamed for him to stop, to think about YN, to remember everything he stood to lose. But in that moment, he didn’t. The guilt had been smothered by the fleeting comfort of the kiss, the escape from his spiraling thoughts.

He didn’t remember much after that. The night blurred into incoherence, a jumble of laughter, flashes, and fleeting touches. Harry woke up the next morning, disoriented and groggy, the light filtering through the hotel room window far too bright. His phone was buzzing incessantly, and his stomach churned when he saw the series of missed calls and messages from YN. The weight of it all hit him like a wave, and for a moment, he just sat there, trying to piece together the fragments of his memories.

Then, his phone lit up with an alert—a notification from a gossip website, and his heart dropped into his stomach. There, in front of him, were pictures of him and Emily Ratajkowski, the kind of photos Harry had spent years avoiding. They were kissing, their lips pressed together, captured in a moment of reckless abandon that Harry didn’t even fully remember. The headline was cruel: Harry Styles and Emily Ratajkowski—A New Romance in the Making?

His throat tightened as he scrolled through the photos, his mind racing. He didn’t remember kissing her. He didn’t remember anything about that night except the overwhelming sense of regret that now gripped him. He had ruined everything. The fragile thread holding him together seemed to snap in that moment. He had lost YN, and now the media would make sure the world knew it. His personal life was on full display, and all he could think about was how much he had fucked it all up.

Desperation began to rise in his chest, and without thinking, he began sending text after text to YN, each one filled with apologies, regret, and pleas for her to talk to him. But she didn’t answer. The silence on the other end was deafening.

Meanwhile, YN was in her parents’ house, sitting in the living room with the muted glow of the television casting long shadows across the room. The house, once a place of comfort and warmth, now felt suffocating. Her mother had been quiet ever since YN arrived, sensing the heavy tension in the air. She tried to comfort her daughter, offering tea, but YN couldn’t bring herself to care. The weight of the argument, of the harsh words Harry had said, sat heavily in her chest, gnawing at her.

But when the photos surfaced—when she saw Harry with Emily, their lips locked, the headlines flashing across her phone—her world shattered all over again. The room spun around her, and she felt like she was suffocating. The love she had poured into her relationship with Harry now felt like a cruel joke. She had trusted him. She had believed in him. And now this—this betrayal was too much to bear.

Tears blurred her vision, and she quickly turned away from her phone. Her mother noticed the change in her expression and asked softly, “YN, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I can’t do this,” YN whispered, choking on her tears. “I can’t keep doing this. I thought he loved me… but now… now I don’t know who he is anymore. It didn’t even take him a night to move on?”

Her mother hugged her tightly, murmuring comforting words, but YN couldn’t hear them. The pain of what she had seen—the public humiliation of it all—felt like a physical weight on her chest. She needed to get away. She needed to clear her head.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said, her voice distant, as if she were speaking to herself rather than her mother.

Her mother nodded, understanding the need for space, and watched as YN stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapping around her like a blanket.

The lake stretched out before her, calm and unbothered by the storm raging inside her. Its surface shimmered faintly under the overcast sky, the golden light of the fading afternoon barely breaking through the thick clouds. The familiar sight of it— the way the trees reflected on the water, the distant sound of birds, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore-should have brought YN the comfort she was seeking. But all it did was make her chest tighten with a suffocating ache.

She had always come to this place for solace, even as a child. The lake by her parents' house was her sanctuary, a space where the noise of the world couldn't touch her. But now, as she stood there, arms wrapped tightly around herself against the crisp autumn air, the silence was deafening. It wasn't peace she found here today. It was the echo of memories she had desperately tried to bury since she walked out of the home she had once shared with Harry.

Her boots crunched softly against the earth as she made her way closer to the water's edge, the damp grass soaking the hem of her dress. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faintest scent of pine and earth. But YN didn't notice. Her mind was far away, replaying a reel of memories she wished she could turn off. No matter how much she tried to focus on the present, her past with Harry came rushing back to her, vivid and bittersweet.

She crouched down near the shore, her fingertips brushing against the cool surface of the water. As ripples spread outward, her thoughts drifted to another time, another version of herself-a happier one. She closed her eyes, and it all came rushing back as if she were still there.

It had been a summer evening, the sun setting in brilliant hues of orange and pink.

Harry had been sitting on the dock, legs stretched out, his feet just barely skimming the water. YN had been lying beside him, her head resting on his thigh as they shared a bottle of wine they had stolen from her parents' pantry. The lake had been their escape that summer, a place where the chaos of Harry's career and the pressures of the world seemed to melt away.

"This place is magic," Harry had murmured, running his fingers absentmindedly through her hair. His voice had been low, almost reverent, as he looked out at the water.

YN had tilted her head to glance up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "You always say that," she teased. "But you're not wrong."

He grinned, his dimple deepening as he looked down at her. "It's true, though. Don't you feel it? It's like... time stops here. Like nothing bad can touch us."

She had laughed softly, the sound blending with the gentle rustle of the trees.

"That's what l've always loved about this place. It's quiet. Peaceful. Away from everything."

Harry had hummed in agreement, his gaze softening as he studied her. "One day, YNN... one day l'd love to settle down somewhere like this. Away from the noise. Just us."

Her breath had caught at his words, her heart skipping a beat. "Just us?" she'd asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well," he'd added, his lips twitching into a playful smile, "maybe not just us. I'm thinking a couple of little ones running around, maybe a dog... or two."

YN's heart skipped at his words, her stomach flipping in that way it always did when he hinted at their future. She laughed, nudging him playfully. "Little ones, huh? You planning on starting a family with me already, Styles?"

Harry grinned, his dimple showing as he leaned closer, the teasing glint in his eyes softening into something deeper. "Why not? I mean it, YNN. I'd love that. A house by the lake. Waking up every morning with you by my side. Teaching our kids how to fish or swim or whatever it is people do out here. It sounds perfect."

Her breath caught as she looked at him, the sincerity in his words tugging at something deep within her. "It does," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It sounds perfect."

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "You're perfect," he murmured, and before she could respond, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

The world had faded away then, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a bubble of love and possibility.

“I wouldn’t want anything less than forever when it comes to you.”

His words had settled into her heart like a warm glow, and she had leaned in to kiss him, the taste of wine still lingering on his lips. In that moment, with the sun setting and the world quiet around them, she had believed him. She had believed in forever.

YN blinked, the memory dissolving as the present came crashing back. The lake was still, the air cold, and Harry wasn't there. Her chest ached as she stared at the dock, the image of them sitting there overlaying the reality of its emptiness. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his hand in hers, but it was all in her mind.

The betrayal burned anew, the image of him with Emily flashing behind her eyes.

How could he have said those things, painted that picture of their future, and then so carelessly let it all fall apart? How could he kiss someone else after everything they had shared?

How had they gone from that to this? How had the man who once promised her forever ended up kissing someone else? The image of Harry and Emily flashed in her mind again, sharper this time, and her stomach twisted. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, trying to hold together the pieces of her heart that felt like they were falling apart.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a cruel reminder of everything she had lost. The life she had envisioned with Harry-the house by the lake, the little ones running around, the forever they had dreamed of-felt like a distant, unattainable dream. And yet, no matter how much she wanted to hate him, to shut him out completely, her heart wouldn't let her. She still loved him, even now, even after everything.

YN sank down onto the grass, her knees pulled to her chest, tears streaming freely now. She thought of the countless nights they had spent talking about their dreams, their plans. The way Harry had once made her feel so safe, so sure of their love. And now, it all felt like a cruel joke, a dream turned nightmare.

"Why, Harry?" she whispered into the stillness. "Why did you have to ruin everything?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

She let herself cry then, the sobs wracking her body as she finally allowed herself to feel the full weight of her heartbreak. The lake bore silent witness to her pain, its surface rippling gently as if trying to offer her some semblance of comfort.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a graveyard for their love.

When she returned to the house, her heart felt heavy, each step laden with the weight of everything she was feeling. But it wasn't the emptiness of the house that grabbed her attention; it was the faint sound-the small, deliberate taps against the window. At first, she thought it was the rain playing tricks on her, the gentle taps against the glass. But when she heard it again-sharp and insistent-her breath caught in her throat.

Her mind didn't even have time to process it fully. She spun toward the window, her heart pounding in her chest. And there he was.

Harry.

He stood in the pouring rain, his face pale, his hair clinging to his skin. His clothes were soaked through, and his hands trembled slightly as he threw small pebbles at the window, as if trying to wake her from a nightmare she couldn't escape. She stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. Was this real? Was this the same man who had hurt her so badly?

But then, she saw it in his eyes-the desperation. The raw vulnerability. The silent plea for forgiveness that spoke louder than words ever could. He was standing there, drenched, with nothing left to lose. He was a broken man, and in that moment, she could see that he knew he had ruined everything.

Before she could stop herself, she ran to the down to the front door, threw it open, and without thinking, rushed outside into the rain.

The rain fell in torrents, its relentless downpour drowning out all sound except for the beat of water against the ground. Harry stood before YN, drenched, his eyes wide with desperate urgency, a look of raw pain etched into every line of his face. His clothes clung to his body, soaked through, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil inside of him.

“YN…” His voice broke, as if the weight of her name was too much to bear. His hand reached out shakily, desperate to bridge the gap between them, but she pulled away slightly. He flinched, not from her rejection, but from the weight of his own guilt that seemed to pull him lower with every passing second.

“I—” He took a breath, trying to steady himself, but his words tumbled out in a frantic rush. “I never meant for it to be this way. I never meant to hurt you, YNN. I swear, I never thought—God, I was so drunk, so damn stupid. I don’t even remember what happened, but I know I messed up. I know I messed everything up.”

YN’s heart clenched painfully in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt her, how much his words still stung like a constant ache in her soul. But instead, she stood there, her breath coming in ragged bursts, staring at him as he trembled in the rain. She wasn’t sure whether it was the cold of the storm or the pain inside him that made him shudder, but it was impossible to ignore the depth of his regret.

“You do remember, Harry,” she finally spoke, her voice shaking but strong. “You remember everything, even if you don’t remember that moment. You remember the things you said to me. You remember how you treated me. How you—” She stopped herself, not wanting to continue with the painful words. But the memory of his cutting tone, his dismissive words, echoed in her mind, taunting her, making her question everything they had ever shared. “I trusted you. I loved you. And you—you broke me.”

Harry’s eyes welled with unshed tears as he took a step toward her, this time not caring if she pulled away. He was beyond caring about the rain, beyond caring about anything except for the woman standing before him, the one person who had always been his everything.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, and she could see the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “I know I broke you. And that’s the worst part of it. I never wanted to hurt you. Not in a million years. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, YNN. You’re it for me, you always have been.” He reached for her again, but this time she didn’t pull away. His fingers brushed against hers, a tentative touch, as if he were afraid she might vanish the moment he let go.

“But I let my stupid insecurities, my stupid mistakes, cloud everything,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I’ve never been more scared of losing someone than I am of losing you, and I couldn’t see that until now. I couldn’t see that you are the one I need. That it’s not the fame, it’s not the tour, it’s not anyone or anything else—it’s you, YN. You’re the only thing that matters.”

The words hung in the air like fragile threads, each one trembling with a rawness that made YN’s heart ache in ways she didn’t think possible. The anger, the hurt—it was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now there was something else too: hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t all lost.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She wanted to push him away, wanted to shout at him for what he had done, but when she looked at him—really looked at him—there was something so devastatingly human about him, standing there, shaking in the rain. He was broken, but there was sincerity in his apology, a plea that reached her heart in ways his words never had before.

“You don’t even understand what you’ve done to me, Harry,” she said, her voice quivering as she took a step back. “You think it’s just about what happened with her, with Emily? It’s not. It’s about everything that led up to that moment. It’s about the words you said to me, the way you dismissed everything we had, everything I gave you. It’s about how you made me feel like I wasn’t enough.”

Harry closed his eyes, a silent tear slipping down his cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, YNN. I never wanted you to feel like you weren’t enough. You’re everything to me. I’ve been an idiot, and I know I’ve hurt you, but please… don’t let this be the end for us. I can’t lose you. I just can’t… live without you. I can’t.”

The storm raged around them, but the silence between them felt deafening, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unresolved. YN could feel the anger still bubbling inside her, but she also felt the pull of something deeper—the love she had for him, the love that she had thought was gone, but now seemed to flicker in her chest like a fragile flame.

She wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt, but something inside her was giving way.

“Harry, I…” Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat as her chest tightened painfully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you right now. I need time. I need space to figure this out.” She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes as the tears finally spilled over, mingling with the rain. “I don’t know if I can go back to who we were. You hurt me too much.”

He stepped forward again, his hand reaching for her, trembling with the force of his desperation. “Please, YN. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you all the space you need. I’ll be patient, I swear. I’ll wait as long as it takes. But don’t walk away from me. Please.”

She didn’t respond immediately. The storm had drowned out every thought, every hesitation in her mind, but there was still one thing she knew for certain: she couldn’t let him go. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. Not when her heart was still so tangled up in him, so unable to let go of the person he had once been to her.

“I need time,” she repeated softly, her voice barely audible against the pounding rain. “I need to think, Harry. Please, just… just go inside. I can’t—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, not without breaking apart completely.

Harry nodded, his face a picture of heartbreaking understanding. His heart was in pieces, but he was willing to wait, willing to do whatever it took to prove that he could make things right. Without another word, he turned toward the house, slowly, unwilling to leave her in the storm but knowing that he had to respect her need for space.

YN watched him go, her heart heavy in her chest, torn between love and hurt, between forgiveness and anger. The rain continued to pour, and as she stood there, feeling the cold seep into her bones, she wondered if they would ever find their way back to each other—or if this was the beginning of the end.

The night had felt like an eternity. Each minute stretched on, filled with haunting thoughts and the pounding rhythm of YNs heart. Her mind was tangled in knots, the anger still burning bright, but beneath it all, there was an undercurrent of something she couldn’t deny: the love she still had for Harry. It was the kind of love that had once felt so pure, so easy, but now felt fractured, jagged, like trying to hold onto a shattered glass piece that was bleeding into her heart.

She hadn’t been able to sleep. The past few days, the pain, the betrayal, the anger—it all swirled together in a mess that made her restless. Harry’s words from the night before—the desperate, raw apology—replayed over and over again in her mind, like a broken record. And yet, each time she thought of it, the hurt crept back in. She had tried to push it away, tried to convince herself that she could ignore it, but the reality was that she couldn’t. Not when the memories of their love, of their happy moments, still clung to her like the scent of his cologne.

But it wasn’t just the hurt she was feeling. There was something else, something deeper, something that felt too real to ignore. She couldn’t escape the way her heart still responded to Harry, no matter how hard she tried.

As the morning light began to filter through the windows, YN could no longer stay in the silence of her room. She had to see him. She had to confront everything that had happened and, maybe—just maybe—find a way to heal. But even as the desire to see him grew stronger, there was still that gnawing uncertainty. Could she really trust him again? Could she really forgive him for what had happened?

The house was quiet as she made her way down the stairs, the soft creak of the wooden steps echoing in the otherwise still air. The soft hum of the morning felt foreign against the heaviness that weighed on her shoulders, but she ignored it, pushing forward. When she stepped outside, the cold hit her like a rush, but it was nothing compared to the chill in her heart.

The lake was quiet, still as glass, the air thick with the faint scent of damp earth and fresh water. And there, sitting on the grass at the edge of the lake, was Harry. His posture was slumped, his shoulders drooped, as though the weight of the world was resting on him. The sight of him in this state, so broken and vulnerable, pulled at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

He looked so small, so lost.

For a moment, YN stood there, watching him. She wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. But as she watched him, she realized that she couldn’t stay away. Not anymore. She had to speak. She had to let him know how much he had hurt her, but also how much she still cared, despite everything.

Her footsteps were quiet on the soft earth as she made her way toward him. Harry didn’t look up immediately, but she could see the slight twitch of his head as if he felt her presence. His face was blank, his eyes staring out at the water, but there was something in the way he held himself that spoke volumes.

YN stopped just a few feet away, standing still as the silence stretched between them. For what felt like an eternity, neither of them spoke. The tension was thick, palpable, like a heavy fog.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. The silence, the uncertainty. She had to break it.

“I don’t even know where to start, Harry,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to protect herself from the rawness of the moment. “You hurt me. You really hurt me. And I don’t know if I can ever forget what you said to me. What you did to us.”

Harry flinched, as if each word she spoke cut through him. He finally lifted his head, his red-rimmed eyes meeting hers. There was guilt in those eyes, raw and undeniable. His voice came out barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, YNN. I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to explain how much I regret everything. I was angry, and I was drunk, and I didn’t—” He cut himself off, his hands shaking as he clenched them into fists at his sides. “I never meant to hurt you. Not like that. You’re everything to me, YNN. You always have been.”

YN took a deep breath, her chest tight with the conflicting emotions. She wanted to stay angry, to protect herself from the pain he’d caused, but she couldn’t deny that his words, his remorse, were hitting something deep inside her. It wasn’t enough to erase the hurt, but it was a start. She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw how broken he was. He was a man who had made a mistake, but he was also a man who still cared for her.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to live in the hurt and the anger. I want to move past this, but I need to know that you’ll never do this again. I need to know that you’re willing to fight for us.”

Harry’s eyes welled up, the emotion overwhelming him. He reached out then, taking her hand gently, almost like he was afraid she might pull away. “I swear to you, YNN. I’ll fight for us. I’ll fight for you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. I’ll spend every single day proving to you that you’re worth more than anything, more than the stupid mistakes I’ve made. You mean everything to me.”

YN’s breath caught in her throat. It was impossible to ignore the depth of his words, the rawness in his voice. But it wasn’t just the words that got to her; it was the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability that he rarely showed anyone, let alone her.

She stepped closer to him, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. She had been so angry, so broken, but looking at him now, she realized that she couldn’t just walk away.

“I want to believe you, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I really do. But I need time. I need time to heal, to trust you again.”

Harry’s face softened, relief flooding through him. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here, every step of the way. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth it. That we’re worth it.”

And in that moment, everything felt a little bit clearer. The storm inside her had not fully subsided, but the clouds were beginning to part, and the sun was starting to peek through. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and in one slow, careful motion, she placed her hand on his chest. The steady beat of his heart under her palm was a reminder of how much he still cared.

“I’m willing to try,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try if you promise me that you’ll never let me go again.”

Harry’s eyes shone with tears, and he pulled her into his arms, his hands cupping her face gently as he kissed her forehead, his lips brushing softly over her skin. “I promise you, YNN. I’ll never let you go. You’re my everything. I love you.”

YN closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. She hadn’t been sure if she could forgive him, if she could ever move past the hurt. But standing here in his arms, feeling his heart beat against hers, she realized that love wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t always simple. But it was worth fighting for.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion.

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them felt a little less heavy, a little less uncertain. The future was still unclear, but for the first time in a long time, they both had hope.

They’ll be alright.

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

you’re all i want

bf!rafe cameron x fem!reader

cw — fluff, talks of bad home life

summary — rafe comes home from a long day and wants nothing more than his girl.

a/n — hi guys!! should i write more smut or soft stuff? i literally have no idea and i enjoy writing both so i’d love to know which one you guys like reading more

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

tough love was all rafe had ever known. well, he considered it love. anyone else who saw the way his family treated him would describe it as anything and everything but love. he wasn’t perfect, like everyone else, and it seemed as if his parents made sure he knew that in the worst ways possible.

and as much as he wanted to please his father and show that he could step up and be perfect, it made him hate being home. he wouldn’t say that he hated ward because he knew he didn’t, more like envied him, but the way he treated him made him truly unhappy like never before. it felt like he would never be enough for anyone.

until he met you.

you were all soft touches and loving words. it made him dizzy when the two of you first met. knowing that you were so sweet to him and he was so undeserving of it made him want to curl up and breakdown. nothing he could do would ever make you lash out on him the way his father did. you were forever such a gentle person.

you’d comfort him for hours if thats what he needed, nurse him back to health when he was sick, and listen whenever he needed to say something. never once did you interrupt him and tell him he was insane or stupid, you just sat and listened while nodding along and clinging to every word he said. he’d never felt so understood until you.

it made him sick to his stomach that he couldn’t reciprocate those actions. he was never shown them therefore he had no clue how to do what you did. he tried his best to comfort you in the way you comforted him but it just felt so unnatural. yet you would always tell him how proud you were of him for branching out and trying. even if it was just a hug and a kiss to your forehead, mumbling “it’ll be okay,” when you were sad.

you’d always been proud of how much you watched him grow and he’d be lying if he said hearing that didn’t make him want to continue to better himself. he loved pleasing you and making you happy, but it was different than with ward. he didn’t do it for the validation or the rewards, he did it because seeing you happy was genuinely such a satisfying feeling for him and knowing he could repay you in some way for your kindness towards him made his heart full.

being able to come home to you in your shared home everyday after work was like a dream come true. it was like his life had done a complete 180 and he had no idea what he’d done to deserve you, but he made sure to pray every morning that you never left his side. he was a better person with you and he’d never been this happy.

and today was just another long day of working for his dads company. maybe it was the big workload or the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about coming home to his beautiful girl, but the day had dragged on longer than usual. he wanted nothing more than to just be cuddled up beside you in bed.

he dropped his stuff on the couch when he walked into the house and locked the door. the house was oddly quiet and eerie. your car was out in the front so he assumed you were still home, unless you’d gone out with your friends.

he walked through the living room a kitchen but found it empty. he walked up the stairs and to your shared bedroom, finding you asleep on your stomach in your pretty pink sports bra that he loved, tucked under the blanket that was bunched up by your hips.

the sight made him smile at how peaceful and relaxed you looked. he almost didn’t want to disturb you. he quietly reached into his drawers and pulled out a pair of sweat pants before quickly changing and throwing his shirt off and to the hamper of dirty clothes then making his way over to his side of the bed.

he slowly placed his knee onto the mattress as it dipped beneath his weight while he leaned down and placed gentle kisses on the exposed skin of your shoulders. you stirred slightly and smiled in your sleep. “hi, rafe,” you mumbled groggily, still mostly asleep.

he laid down beside you and crawled under the covers, gently lifting them up your body further so you were warm. “hi beautiful,” he replied quietly as to not disturb you too much.

“was work okay?” you asked, rolling over to cuddle into his side and lay your head on his chest. his heartbeat was soothing to listen to.

he nodded even though you couldn’t see it and gently ran a hand through your hair by the crown of your head, stopping every now and then to massage your scalp. “mhm. was long but ‘ts okay. jus’ happy to be here with you.” you smiled even bigger looked up at him. you were so proud of how far he’d come. he’d gotten so much better at expressing his feelings lately. “you’re so pretty, baby.”

you pressed a soft kiss to his lips before laying your head back down against his chest to hide the blush forming on your cheeks. the sound of his heartbeat slowly lulled you back to sleep, making rafe’s heart throb with nothing but love. you looked so beautiful when in everything that you did.

he slipped the hand that was on your waist down underneath the covers and gently ran it up and down your back in a comforting motion. it made you sigh in your sleep and hug onto him tighter. he tilted his head to the side for a second to place a loving kiss to your forehead before closing his eyes and attempting to find sleep himself.

[taintedbenevolence]

"𝕯𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖒𝖊." — YANDERE DAN HENG · IMBIBITOR LUNAE x FEMALE READER

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 — nsfw, short prompt 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — Not proofread! Use of profanities, non-consensual display of affection, obsessive & possessive behavior, (brief insinuations/mentions of) breeding kink. Dan Heng bites and marks reader. notation: any character participants are aged 18 and up. just for the record. I don't write sexual content for minors. please know that.

"I warned you," he huffed with mild irritation, as he thrusted himself inside of you for what seemed to be another, countless time. "Don't test me."

It was a bad enough idea when you had decided to argue, telling him that you'd find a way out, pointing out all the individual flaws of the manner in which he kept you trapped.

You'd begun to find solutions to your inescapable cage with this man, and it filled him with indignation, because he was entirely enraptured by you, and he refused to let you go. The very thought of you escaping was something he couldn't stand.

Being all alone was the last thing he needed. Break his arms and legs, but he'll cling to you like there's no one else he loves more and needs.

But seeing as how you'd decided to try and make an attempt to escape, he had zero intent to let you go now, more than ever. He pondered on just what he'd do to finally ingrain in your head somewhere that you were not going to be leaving – not anytime soon, nor any time later.

He was fine doing anything and everything to keep you by his side.

He'd pump you full of his seed, fill you up with his cum day and night, if it'd remind you that you had no one and no place to go but him and only him, that you were meant to stay with him forever. You would be his and his alone. Right?

He couldn't bear the thought of someone else taking you away from him. With all that he's gone through, he at the very least deserves this. Wouldn't you agree?

Even so, you'd grown accustomed to the feel of your wrists bound by chains and cuffs above your head, your ankles tied down similarly whilst his tail coils around your waist, holding you down in place as he pushes in and out of you.

All nice and tied up, open and ready to take whatever was going to ruin you tonight. Would it be his fingers, his tongue, or his cock this time?

It was a chilling feeling that never failed to scare you—the feeling of helplessness that the Vidyadhara always managed to incite within you. It terrified you—to be taken advantage of in such way without being able to do anything about it.

Whether his carnal instincts were led by his previous incarnation or not, you had not the slightest idea, and frankly, you didn't really want to know either. 

All you could do was stay down while he fucked your brains out. ... You should probably watch your mouth the next time you're mad.

He drinks up your mewls, your abused, puffy hole unable to handle any more, but he licks your tears away, seemingly uncaring about how you beg him to stop. In his eyes, this is a punishment. If you keep acting like this, he really won't be able to be as kind as he wishes to be.

He doesn't mean to hurt you, and if you'd let him, oh how he'd worship your body without leaving a single mark, but he can't help himself if you keep behaving yourself like a brat. Please, can't you comply at the very least once? Would it kill you to show some acceptance for him?

Maybe.

And with how many times he has cum inside you, it upsets him that you really can't be impregnated by him. It'd delight him to see your belly swollen with his baby, but alas, it's only a fantasy.

A fantasy that he can't help but try to indulge in every time he fucks you raw.

Perhaps it's a little wrong of him to enjoy how much you cry whenever he does this to you. Just maybe. Maybe. Your cheeks all red, stained with tears, pretty puffed lips all swollen because of his rough, frequent kisses — it makes his heart swell.

He loves it. He loves you.

His face is nuzzled up in the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into the soft skin, leaving numerous red marks that most likely will stay for a long time, if not forever, his mouth moving to leave more bruises upon your skin to claim you as his own.

"Dan Heng—" You manage to moan, almost choking on your tears, feeling him push in and out with a rapidity you cannot measure. "'ts too much, 'm cumming, please, a-ah—!"

It's all too much. It hurts too much. You feel too much. Too much pain, too much pleasure, it's all mixing up and your brain by now has been reduced to mush, your words a babbling mess as you whine, whine, and whine, to a point where you don't know how you have not lost your voice.

"Mine, mine, mine, please, s' good," you hear him murmur incoherently to you, the only sound left in the area being the wet squelch, the slapping sounds of skin against skin, your unstable cries, and your sobbing along with his sweet moans as he makes love to you. "P-please, don't leave, mgh-"

Any trace of his gentle demeanor was thrown away from the moment he had you pressed on the mattress. There was only a burning need left in him.

A need only you could satiate. An obsession that would never end.

And for what he's done to you, he knows you harbor hate, but he knows it makes you feel good, so why play pretend? ♡

---------------------------------------------------

A / N - It's a little shorter than usual, sorry </3 Writer's block has been absolutely demolishing me, but I'm hanging in there, I've got a few requests which I'm almost done with rn.. Sorry for the inactivity, I'll be hopefully posting more often if I'm not too burnt-out. Getting this one out so I can finally publish the Neuvi request..

[appalachiancowboy99]

After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air.  Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else. 

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

-

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

-

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't expected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

[paarksunghoon]

Loved your sunghoon hard thought that I badly need a part 2 😭

thank you so much 🥹 I hope you like this one, anon!! I’m into the idea of writing a few short scenes for this specific hoon so if anyone is interested in reading snippets of their sex life, lemme know

part 2 of this hard thought

***

Sunghoon is typically the shy guy who keeps to himself when he’s not with his friends. He has a straight path to success upon graduating and doesn’t want to compromise that. He’s the kind of guy to yearn from afar but fuck his fist when his roommates aren’t home while he wonders when the love of his life will make their presence known.

Typically, Sunghoon is not the kind of guy to engage in a friends with benefits situation. Yet he finds himself in your apartment a mere three hours after leaving you the first time. Why he hooked up with you at that party is unbeknownst to him, but he doesn’t care.

“Pussy’s so good I needed more,” he says against your mound with your back perched on the couch. Sunghoon has your legs spread wide with his palms and your toes curl with every pass of his wet tongue dragging across your folds.

“God,” you moan straight from the back of your throat. You grab the back of his head with your hands and feel his soft hair. Sunghoon groans right into you and his voice makes your pussy quiver even more.

He takes his time, unlike the night you first met him at the house party a few weeks ago. Sunghoon looks so beautiful with his eyes closed, lashes kissing his skin as he works your folds like he’s licking an ice cream cone. He switches between licking your insides to kissing your inner thighs to prolong your orgasm. You don’t know if you’ve ever had a guy who cared about your pleasure that much to give it to you just to take it away, only to make you see stars.

Sunghoon pries your pussy open with his fingers and holds his body over your lap. He gathers spit until it drops straight onto your clit. He basks in the way you clench around nothing, watching the way more of your arousal oozes out of your body. Sunghoon is so turned on that his cock is hot and stiff in his basketball shorts to the point of being uncomfortable.

With one hand, he lets go of your pussy to reach down and put his hand over his cock to palm himself while his tongue works its magic against you. Sunghoon squeezes himself and shudders. You’ve maneuvered so your feet are planted on his back and he feels the urge to continue pushing you to your climax when he feels your toes curling up against him and as you start to move his face against your mound.

He’s been at it for ages. Your undergarments are long gone and he reckons he’s been on his knees for the past twenty minutes or so but he pays no attention to his legs burning or his back aching. He would stay like this forever if that meant making you come.

Sunghoon drags the surface of his tongue over you expertly while pulling you close to his face by your ass. You yelp at the sudden movement and grip onto the bedsheets for support. Meanwhile, he’s thrusting his cock against the couch until he’s humping it like he’s the one who’s supposed to get off.

“Perfect ass and perfect pussy,” Sunghoon moans against you. “Cum on my face, pretty girl. I know you want to.”

“You’re so fucking good at this,” you whine, cupping your breast and giving them a squeeze. “So hot when you talk like that.”

“Yeah? Want me to talk you through it?”

“Please, fuck.”

“Okay, baby. Focus on my tongue. Don’t you want to cum on it?”

“I want it so fucking bad.”

“Mhm, atta girl.” Sunghoon lifts himself just enough for you to hear him. “Let me taste you. Cum right now.”

You do as he says. The feeling of euphoria washes over you and your release coats Sunghoon’s tongue. He slurps it up like your taste is engrained in his mind while humping the couch until he releases an orgasm in his boxers and shorts. But he doesn’t care that he’s soiled himself like this. Sunghoon pushes his softening cock against his own cum and moans as he tastes yours.

“Love your pussy,” Sunghoon mumbles as he cleans up your body with his tongue. “Could eat you out all day.”

“Yeah? You would?”

He looks up at you from your mound and licks another fat stripe up your slit.

“Don’t underestimate me.”

***

comments and reblogs would be appreciated! x

[rainyvandragon]

Oh those precious memories~

See I could tell myself that it's okay that I'm writing this because I am a catholic woman but let's be real those things just aren't true any more. So instead I am going to claim this as an emotional craving because of that time of the month. Definitely nothing along the lines of 10 year revival of my fanfiction writing phase. And it's totally, in no way related to any issues I might have. Totally sane, I tell you.

! 18+ Minors do not interact, I am NOT a fckn daycare!

Yandere! Hazbin Hotel x GN! Reader

Content warning: obsessive behaviour, stalking, slight NSFW (more in some parts then others), just a bunch of red flags and things that I do not condone irl

Charlie:

Honestly Charlie might be the most sane of the bunch in this regard

She isn't to interested in stealing anything from you, that is just not something she would be comfortable with – in general but especially with her Darling

However she doesn't mind keeping things that you let her borrow

It doesn't even matter what

You gave her a hair tie because one of hers broke? She'll cherish it forever

It was raining on a day she had to go out and you suggested she could use your umbrella? Pretty much hers now

Of course the greatest thing for her would be you lending her some of your clothes

She would most likely spend the next nights cuddling up to it in bed

Oh the frustration when the fabric no longer smells like you but rather her!

Yeah sure, she can give you your things back. She just forgot them in her room, oops! Don't worry she'll get them later

Unless she forgets again...

Vaggie:

She would never take anything you truly need or value

In all seriousness, Vaggie could never stand the idea of inconveniencing her Darling

However unlike Charlie she is just not close enough with you (yet) to count on you giving things to her

So instead she uses the position she has in the Hotel

There was a movie night with everybody invited?

Well somehow ever since the clean up the blanket you were cuddled up in is gone. Oh well, Vaggie will just get a new one, they weren't that expensive to begin with anyway (and if she is fast enough with it nobody is even going to notice anything)

Sadly those lucky occasions that allow her to grab some reminders of your shared time don't come around to often

And Vaggie respects you and herself to much to steal from you or go through your garbage bin

Thankfully she has the patience to wait for those windows of opportunity

And hey, since everything went relatively smoothly this week why not suggest another movie night to Charlie? Everyone involved seemed to enjoy it anyway – so there really is no harm done, right?

Angel:

Anybody who immediately thought of Angel stealing his Darling's underwear needs to take a cold shower!

Now don't get me wrong – he has thought about it

He does have a relatively high drive and desire for intimacy and sex

So sure the idea of taking something rather personal from you did cross his mind

But deep down Anthony just is a little sweetheart and he just couldn't take something like your underwear or other intimate items from you without any sort of consent

As for other, less private things

It doesn't matter if Angel and you have the same of different sizes – he WILL steal your clothes and wear them

If you wear make-up or nail polish he will definitely “borrow” things – especially lipstick

Now if his Darling is somebody who likes to keep a lot of pillows or plushies in bed he is definitely not shy about taking things from that pile either. Although, depending on how well Darling keeps track of those things, he might only borrow them for a night or two – maybe rotating between some, making sure to leave them under the bed upon returning so it looks like it just fell off the mattress

Alastor:

Now Alastor is already rather torn apart when he first noticed his desire for your belongings

He never once though about stealing from you...until you forgot something in the lobby – a book, notebook, pen, whatever it was – it was just lying there on the table next to the couches

Ever the gentleman he obviously wanted to return it to you but something inside of him fought against the very idea of it. This might be the closet he gets to having you (at least for now), his Darling

As his obsession towards you continues to grow some of his past life's interests stir awake inside of him

One day whilst helping out you cut yourself on some damaged bit of furniture. Alastor is immediately there to offer you a handkerchief to stop the bleeding – a handkerchief that quickly becomes one of his most prised possessions

If his Darling has a period he might steal some...used goods

However in comparison to some of the others, he is a lot less hungry for souvenirs

Although that is really just because, unlike them, he can use his shadows to be around you whenever and as close as he pleases

Husk:

Husk would never just go into his Darling's room to steal things from them – even if the idea sounds lovely

No instead he just checks for things you leave behind

Now his job at the hotel really helps him with that

You almost exclusively talk at the bar (“Redemption Based Group Exercises” being the only real exception)

At this point he has a rather large collection of napkins that you used or doodled on

Sometimes they disgust him but then he looks at them, the little doodles (even just to test a pen) you left on some of them, all those marks of you (bonus points for lipstick stained napkins) and he just can't

The guilty feelings are even worse with a tissue you once cried it. It's just to close of a reminder of you to throw away!

Anything small that you forget at or close to the bar gets saved by him – pens, small pieces of paper, hair ties, buttons from your clothes, whatever really. If it's small and unimportant enough for you to not really miss it he is going to keep it

Nifty:

Nifty is easily the worst of them all

She is small, fast, obsession driven and the hotel's maid on top of that

What matters most to her is how close to your body her little mementos are (it's pretty much the same way in wish the catholic church determines the value of a saint's relic)

Nifty will most definitely collect hair out of your brush

Or rummage through your garbage bins

Now if somebody is going to steal used period products!

She just really doesn't value her Darling's privacy in the slightest so she has no issues going through every little crevice of your room to look for some “hidden treasures”

Although her favourite thing to do is sleep in your used bedsheets

She is going to wash them – don't worry! Simply just not without first sleeping in them herself for a bit

---------------------------------------------------------

Welp this is the first time in a long while that I've actually written fanfiction so I got those emotions to sort through I guess.

English is not my first language however given how arrogant I can be regarding my skills this should be well enough written. Prove reading was done by Open Office's spell checking system and my high ass.

[leaderwonim]

𓇻 I’M A FEMINIST, OBVIOUSLY, BUT I WOULDN’T REALLY MIND HIM SAVING ME.

▸ PAIRING.. class president!yang jungwon x outcast!fem!reader

▸ SYNP. jang y/n hated yang jungwon. perfect, loved by everybody, class president yang jungwon. people only liked him because he was a man and he was charismatic. however, when she’s being picked on by the girls at school, yang jungwon comes to her rescue, and weirdly, she didn’t mind it?

▸ GENRE. enemies to lovers (it’s one sided though, yn just hates jw😭) angst, mentions of bullying, mentions of sexism, fluff

author’s note: this is based off of olivia rodrigo’s unreleased song! This was honestly so much fun to write and it took me about 3 days cause I fell violently ILL like the day after I started writing😭 As usual, REBLOGS and COMMENTS are so greatly appreciated <33

Jang Y/N was what people called an outcast. Although she was pretty and had the grades, she heavily disliked half of her class, which in turn, didn’t exactly make her very popular.

“I hate him.” She says as she shoves a spoonful of rice into her mouth. Her only friend was her sister, Wonyoung, who told her that she shouldn’t be so negative all the time.

“Who, Jungwon?” Wonyoung asks, frowning. “Yah Y/N, you can’t hate him forever. He’s nothing but nice to you.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N mumbles angrily, putting away her lunch. “Wonyo, people only like him because he’s a man who can say a few charming words. He smiles and at least half of our class falls onto their knees or something.”

Wonyoung chokes at her sister’s comparison, and can’t help but let out a little laugh. “I’m just saying Y/nie, you can’t just despise him because he seems perfect to the naked eye. In fact, I say become friends with him. It’ll be good for you.”

Y/N shuts down the idea right away, much to Wonyoung’s dismay.

“I am just saying,” Wonyoung stands up, finished with her lunch. “I mean, don’t you find it sad? That you eat lunch everyday with your sister instead of eating with friends or a boyfriend?”

“No,” Y/N says, frowning. “I like eating lunch with you Wonyo.”

“Hm, I guess.”

The Jang sisters lock arms, strolling to their next class. They miss the longing glance that Yang Jungwon sends towards Y/N’s direction, already too far gone into the Decelis Academy hallway.

‏‏‎ ‎

Unfortunately for Y/N, she had her leadership class with Jungwon, where they would discuss things like student politics and how to better the school so that Decelis could stay at its rightful place of number one on private academy rankings.

It was stupid, Y/N thought, Decelis shouldn’t even be close to number one, this school was filled with a bunch of spoilt children who were obsessed with the idea of money and power.

“Is there a problem, Miss. Jang?” The teacher asks, noticing the little scoffs she was adding each time Jungwon spoke about an initiative he wanted to add.

“No,” Y/N shrugs. “I just think Yang Jungwon’s new initiative is just a waste of time. It's not going to solve anything.”

Jungwon smirks, something that Y/N so desperately wants to wipe the floor with. “Y/N, always the critic of my ideas. Very well, let’s hear your brilliant solution.”

She rolls her eyes. Of course Yang Jungwon wanted to pretend to remain civil, if he had blown up on her, it would’ve tarnish his reputation, and Yang Jungwon would be nothing without his reputation, right?

“Instead of your one-size-fits-all approach method, we need personalized mentorship programs. Each student faces unique challenges, and your initiative doesn't address that.”

Jungwon smiles. “Well I suppose you’re right. But perhaps if you actually joined the initiative, you'd understand its effectiveness.”

Y/N grits her teeth, not enjoying how much Yang Jungwon was enjoying this. “Oh, right, because following the herd blindly is the key to success? Unlike half of Decelis’ population, I prefer independent thinking.”

The boy leans closer in, face almost touching the girl. “Sometimes collaboration is the key to progress, Y/N. Try it sometime.”

The two students make eye contact until Y/N breaks, finally pulling her eyes away.

“As usual, Yang Jungwon always has to be right.” She mumbles under her breath. “God, please save me from being in this class any longer,”

‏‏‎ ‎

Y/N throws her backpack on the floor as soon as she steps into her house, not caring about the expensive computer her grandmother had bought her last Christmas that was stuffed inside. Her parents were in the kitchen, discussing something in hushed whispers, almost as if it was top secret.

Always being the curious child, she leans onto the wall that separated the living room and kitchen, trying to make out what the topic was about.

“I’m just worried honey,” she can hear her mom say as her dad rubs her back comfortingly. “Y/N doesn’t have a lot of friends at that school, Wonyoung told me about it. You know she only hangs out with her sister and that’s it?”

“I mean, is it really that bad that she only hangs out with Wonyoung? She’s always been quiet, I think we’ve just got to respect that. She’s an excellent student anyway, there’s no harm in having little friends.”

Although her parents truly just wanted the best for her, Y/N felt like a complete loser by how they were going about it.

She quickly rushed to her room, biting her lip in annoyance at how everybody seemed to have an opinion about her life. She was happy with how it was going, and she didn’t care that her only friend was her sister, Wonyoung was a sweetheart and lived with her, it was a built in best friend for life.

“Just you wait,” Y/N huffs, sharpening her pencil. “I’m gonna go to university, leave this place, and I won’t have to hear about any of these kids ever again.”

‏‏‎

Y/N woke up the next day with a red eye, probably from crying last night despite telling herself she didn’t care.

She cared, a lot.

Romanticizing being alone was fun until she realized that she was truly all alone, with no friends to lean on.

“Is that Jang Y/N?”

Park Jiwon. The devil herself. She was evil as she was pretty, and she had no problem making Y/N’s life a living hell.

“Where’s Wonyoung? Did your own sister finally get tired of you?” Her little group of minions laugh as if it was the funniest thing ever, and Y/N tries and stops herself from giving them all a swing to the face.

“No, but I’m sure you’re used to that feeling, right Jiwon?”

“Oh you little b—”

“Jiwon, you can’t hit her! You’ll get suspended and it’ll go on your permanent record.” Her friend says, which makes the girl straighten up right away.

“You’re lucky Jang,” the girl snarls. “But yah, what were you thinking? Talking back to Jungwon? He’s so smart and handsome, dedicating his time to make initiatives for the school. You should be more grateful.”

She and her minions get so close that they practically push Y/N back onto the locker, suffocating her with their glares.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” The voice of Jungwon doesn’t go unnoticed by a single girl, who, all but Y/N, straighten up their hair when they realize he’s behind them.

“We’re just talking, right Y/N?” Jiwon says, pinching onto the girl tightly.

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.” Jungwon rolls his eyes. “Park Jiwon, don’t make me give you detention for picking on other students. It doesn’t make you attractive.”

The girl gasps, immediately letting Y/N go as her face heats up in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t—”

“Just go.” With one point of a finger, Yang Jungwon got Park Jiwon and her minions out of the hallway, leaving Y/N and him alone.

“You okay?” He asks her, eyes concerned.

“Thank you,” she breathes out. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Why didn’t I?” He raises his eyebrows. “You were getting picked on.”

“Well, I’m not the nicest to you.” The girl says, suddenly embarrassed. “At all, actually. So thank you Jungwon, really.”

“Ah,” the boy smiles. “It’s nothing. I don’t hate you if that’s what you think, I think you have a brilliant mind just like me.”

And for the first time since she’s stepped into the school, Jang Y/N finds herself liking Yang Jungwon, and not just for his looks.

‏‏‎

“Y/N!” The loud voice of Yang Jungwon doesn’t go by Wonyoung, who gives her sister a smirk as she slightly pushes back her shoulder.

“Wonder why he’s coming,” she teases, which makes Y/N scrunch up her nose in annoyance.

“Would you like to come with me to this new bread place?” He asks, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “Sorry—I ran all the way from the cabinet office to here.”

“It’s alright,” Y/N giggles, which makes Wonyoung’s eyes pop out of their sockets because she swears she never heard that sound coming from her sister’s mouth before. “I’d love to Jungwon.”

“Great! I’ll uh.. I’ll see you later!”

Wonyoung turns to face Y/N as soon as Jungwon leaves, giving her the biggest grin ever. “What was that?!”

“Let’s just say, I don’t hate Yang Jungwon anymore.” Y/N smiles, laughing as she watches Wonyoung’s jaw practically drop to the ground.

‏‏‎

“It’s cold, isn’t it?” Jungwon says as he and Y/N walk to the new bread place.

“Yes,” Y/N puffs out, “I should’ve brought a jacket.”

Before she knew it, Jungwon already takes off his jacket and wraps it around the girl’s shoulder.

“Jungwon,” she whines, “then you’ll be cold!”

“It’s alright really!” He laughs, giving her a big smile. “I’m practically invincible to cold. Was just asking because you seemed to be freezing.”

“You’re sweet,” she says, looking down at her feet. “I feel really guilty for trying to one up up all the time or prove you wrong. I just hate it, you know?”

“Hate what?”

“You might not realize it but a lot of people don’t want to hear what I say because I’m a woman, and that’s it. Just because I’m a woman. Like sometimes, I have ideas just as brilliant and changing as yours, but everybody says I’m complaining and over analyzing. When you say it, with your handsome face and clear voice, everybody’s suddenly entranced, and they’re so interested in school politics.”

“So you think I’m handsome?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, pushing back Jungwon slightly as he laughs.

“I’m kidding, Y/N. I know what you mean now. I’m sorry that I can’t change how people view and perceive things, but I want you to know that I listen to your ideas, that I care. You might not realize this either but whenever you’re talking, I always listen. Like your initiative about bringing better programs into the school, I listened through the whole thing because I just—I’m inlove with the way you articulate things and the way you speak. If I was half as good at speaking my mind like you were, I’d be unstoppable. You’re a great person, Y/N, and I’m so glad I’m able to see that.”

The way Yang Jungwon speaks about her makes Y/N want to cry and smother him in a hug, which she does a second later by bringing him into a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you Jungwon.” She says, face in his neck. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He feels like he’s out of breath by how close the two of them were, his heartbeat racing by each second that passed. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N.”

‏‏‎

“Hey!” Y/N is practically used to seeing Yang Jungwon come up to her everyday now, the two even spending lunch together every two days.

“What’s up Yang?” She says, noticing a packet of papers in his hand.

“You know your feedback on my initiative? Your personalized mentorship program idea! The headmaster really liked it and he’s implementing it starting next semester with your name as the credit on it!”

Y/N’s eyes widen in joy, shrieking as her hands unconsciously come in contact with Jungwon’s, the two holding both of each other’s hands tightly as they jumped in happiness.

“You’re amazing Yang Jungwon!” She says giddily, “you really are.”

The two of them stop to stare at one another for a brief second before Jungwon finds himself leaning in, closing the gap between their lips.

When they pull away, the smiles on their faces never fades, Jungwon’s dimple ever so prominent.

“I love you,” Y/N breathes out. “My wonderful class president.”

And although Y/N is a feminist, obviously, she wouldn’t mind a man like Yang Jungwon saving her, for he taught her what love was like, and that she should never ever settle for less.

[vaguely-concerned]

I think there is no better illustration of the more intimate, internal angle veilguard chooses to approach its characters and themes with than the fact that like... listen in this game we get to follow so much pain back to its source, and we find it really does permeate everything in thedas today on a level that evokes a kind of cosmic horror. the bones of the earth itself are broken open and drenched in trauma; the world is mired in suffering down to the core and the marrow. as above, so below. as outside, so inside. on the big scale, and the small. all of creation is a throat gone to bloody shreds from screaming in agony, when you allow yourself to listen. (maybe that's why we usually don't, or can't, bring ourselves to listen.)

...and yet the thing that makes me personally so desperately gnaw-my-own-arm-off sad that it feels like I could die from it is that in a run where you save minrathous, lucanis never gets out from the ossuary in his mind. what's worse, no one even knows he's in there. he's still in there. and there is no rescue on the way, because he's locked down so deep inside himself this time that there's no way for anyone to even understand there's a need for it. would he be able to welcome one, if someone did realize it and tried to reach him? You know him -- you can open the door, but he won't walk through. He won't move. There's nowhere to go. the way he says 'it doesn't matter what I want' with such utter, leaden, final resignation in the wrecked treviso cutscene is going to haunt me forever. it makes perfect sense to me you can't romance him after that, I'm not sure he's ever really here completely in that version of events, at least within the timeline the game takes place. he's just standing in the shitty awful ossuary torture room all alone, and no one's coming to find him.

and what is that, next to the millennia of suffering screaming through all of history and creation? well. nothing, of course, not really. a single plucked string in an endless deafening symphony of despair. one singular trapped and broken soul among the untold millions that have gone before and the untold more that will surely come after, that are being made as we speak in the conflicts and tragedies unfolding through the game. but more importantly it's also everything. to me. and to the game too. the game says this also matters. just as much as anything else, this pain matters and deserves to be loved and comforted. even in the face of all the suffering in the world, beneath the systems perpetuating all the banalities of evil, for good or for ill sometimes, we matter to each other. and what would be the point of anything, if we didn't? that's where hope lives. as long as you're alive, the right key might still arrive to gently open the locks of your mind, the right hand might reach out one day and you will bring yourself to take it. you don't know what tomorrow's going to be. if in the meantime the only thing we have to gain in staying is each other -- isn't that enough? isn't that everything? why does this one guy saved mean the world saved to me, a little bit? hello. hello. hello. there's stuff going on in the deep here.

when I say that the deep thematic spine of this game is so good and solid that the occasional clumsiness and false tones of the writing on top of it simply cannot hurt me... I think this is part of what I mean. works for every single one of the characters of course! lucanis' is the predicament that speaks to me most viscerally. for. uh. personal reasons there simply is no time to get into at this juncture lol. but just as much the idea that davrin can die before he could see the world freed from the blight and the need for wardens, or that harding can get cut down right at the beginning of a great revelation that could change everything and heal things no one had even dreamed could be healed. all of them are like this. each and every one of us has a world and so many stories inside that matter, and it's not to dismiss the larger systemic forces and evils that create so much of the suffering in the world to focus in on that for one installment of the series -- only to view it from a different angle that brings other things to light than what we're looking for normally in this series. it's worth looking at what's actually here.

(have you ever heard the poem 'good light' by andrea gibson? it's very good. you should check it out if you haven't, you can find it on youtube. it has these lines:

Come make it count Our finding each other like we found God Come root for the salt Come believing we can heal it all, even everything Even everything that has ever been done I know how much the pain of this world weighs But I can still tip the scales in light's direction Whenever I have your name on my tongue

and yeah. I think that's basically what I'm trying to say here.)