#but lmk if this needs tweaking in any way !!!

[rebellenlied]

@biskael asked // protect - quilge protects gabriel from injury from an enemy ( pre-edelweiss , obviously , maybe centuries ago ? )

injury-related symbol starters. // accepting.

it was quite the saying - don't shoot the messenger.

it'd been a short time ago when a young gabriel ardelean was indicted into the wandenreich. almost a week in she was tested on her overall abilities; mainly her supposed speed and agility considering her past duties. to her, it was a blessing she was only tasked to serve as an errand runner - at least until she, too, would rise up the ranks one day. granted, there were times where she would have to deliver messages in more... dire situations. this time just so happened to be one of them.

the message she was tasked to deliver must have been important - whatever the contents contained, she was instructed not to open it under any means until she reached her destination. it wasn't like gabriel minded that instruction, however, considering she was never one to pry while she was on the job... as nosy as the young quincy could be sometimes. and it seemed her destination was that of the jail himself.

the contents she was tasked with delivering was items to help quilge opie and the rest of his squadron on their hunts. and hopefully he was alerted that the supplies would be on their way, she was never informed whether or not he received a warning message on that front. then again she never interacted with a lot of the sternritters... not yet, at least. but to say the thought of interacting with a figure of authority like the jail was... rather intimidating.

yet the directions to her destination were proven correct, and she was right to think that he was intimidating even up close.

it was a dangerous area, but the job had to be done. "... you must be the jail, correct?" she nearly hesitated, her right mind half-expecting to have orders barked at her as well. "i brought what you've requested as promised, sir. my apologies for any delays-"

she was cut off by her arms being grabbed as her body is yanked forward and spun around, almost thrown back with the package in hand as gabriel... tries to process what had happened. it felt everything had happened in a matter of seconds; one moment she stood face to face with the sternritter she was tasked with delivering supplies to... the next minute she had been yanked behind him. who just so happened to have ran his spear through several unfamiliar faces... but they didn't look like they belonged to the wandenreich.

... they didn't follow her for the supplies, did they?

"that was rather reckless of you to let those vermin follow you," gabriel thought she heard him say once the deed was done, "but i suppose that cannot be helped."

"... fair point," perhaps gabriel was too into her own head to notice, and truth be told she was already mentally preparing for a lecture when she'd return to the wandenreich. "i didn't realize they were even there until i saw you run them through." and she wasn't the type to argue or have any excuses - she'd hold herself accountable for nearly getting herself killed, and that was it. "the resources will be over here for easy access when you or your squadron needs them. if there's nothing else you need me for, i'll... take my leave momentarily."

she'd keep a more watchful eye of her surroundings the next time she sends a message or delivery - that'd probably be the best thing to do as thanks for the unprompted protection.

[jezebelblues]

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 | 𝐇.𝐒 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬—𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢’𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞.

𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭, 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲.

𝐂𝐖: smut18+ fingering, penetration (p in v), a smidge of spanking, mommy issues, 2016!harry, angst, i guess. all in upper case if that gets u goin. fem!reader, unedited cause i fell asleep writing this. gn. mwah :*

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 17k

❏ burning hill by mitski teehee !! was the main inspo for this

not my gif. if u have the info of the original creator, lmk so i can appropriately credit them.

masterlist

It’s been fifteen months since the group announced their hiatus.

Phone calls became scarce, and so many words were left unspoken, drifting into that space where they might never find their way back. For the first time in years, he felt free—untethered from the rhythm of living intertwined with three other lives. At first, the quiet felt unbearable, like the silence after the crowd fades and the lights go down. But slowly, the loneliness began to feel like home. A strange sort of comfort in the quiet. He found a semblance of privacy—at least a bit more than he had in the band.

Harry felt that, since the hiatus, the fans had grown older with him, their wide-eyed fascination dulled by time and reality. There were fewer frantic moments, fewer desperate hands pulling at him. Now, on a good day, he could stroll through his hometown, maybe get stopped for a polite photo. Occasionally, there were still shadows trailing him—paparazzi or a fan trying to be invisible but failing, always just out of reach. He didn’t like it, not really, but he’d learned to live with it. It’s what came with the territory, a price he thought he’d long accepted.

But it was the writing that kept him grounded. Kept him real. The one thing that still felt like his own. His debut album was close to finished now, though the mixing, the rewrites, the constant tweaking—it never felt like enough. There was this tightness inside him, a knot of anxiety that refused to unravel. Would anyone like Harry styles, the solo artist? Or would they always only care about Harry, the boy in the band?

He wasn’t ungrateful, not for a second. But deep down, he craved something more. He needed the space to finally figure out what he wanted, to break free, to become something else entirely. Something new.

It’s been eight months since he met YN.

It was happenstance, through his manager—though sometimes Harry liked to imagine it was fate. It was one of those coincidences that felt too deliberate to be real, like something out of a half-finished song. She was Jeff’s goddaughter, on the periphery of his world, but until then, she’d been just another name mentioned in passing.

YN started her internship at the recording studio in the beginning of April of this year. She moved to New York with a close friend shortly after her twenty first birthday, saving up for what felt like forever, and Jeffery instantly had the idea of corroborating with the studio about an internship. He knew of her uncertainty about the future. He knew about the interest in music YN had, and he wanted to give her a chance.

Jeff had told her it was a paid internship, though it really wasn’t. He was the one who was paying her through check, under the guise of the studio. She would freak if she found out, turning it all down—Jeff knew that all too well.

Her first month was moreso about passing time. She’d work on any logistics, learning about the soundboard and how it worked hand in hand with the recording aspect, not to mention the process of remastering, mixing, finalizing. Harry was in and out those first three weeks, still finishing up a few interviews and whatnot. YN talked to him a few times when he’d pop in before taking off again, he was sweet. Still, she needed something to do until he was finally able to settle down to focus on one of the last stretches of the album—and giving her busywork was just that.

She wasn’t supposed to be at the office that day in May, but Jeff made her come along before they would continue their constant work at the drawing table, in the booth. It was the day he decided to cut his hair—and there she was, sitting quietly on the edge of the room, trying not to be seen, caught up in the swirl of conversations she didn’t quite belong to yet. There was something about her, something he couldn’t put his finger on. The way she observed everything, but didn’t feel the need to make herself known. A quiet confidence, maybe, or just a complete lack of pretense.

When she offered to help with the cut, everyone laughed, but he said yes. He didn’t know why, maybe because she didn’t treat it like this big, defining moment. The whole world was making such a fuss about his hair, like that was all he was, all he’d ever be. But YN? She just smiled, grabbed the scissors, and got to work. No ceremony, no theatrics—just a few careful snips, and suddenly he was lighter, like he could breathe again.

Afterward, they’d joked about how she should switch careers. But she’d only smiled that same quiet smile and said she was more interested in being on the other side of music. She was learning everything she could. At first, she was just there, hovering at the edge of things. But before long, she was everywhere. Quietly slipping into conversations, offering up ideas that stuck with him long after she’d left the room.

She wasn’t like the people he usually worked with. She wasn’t starry-eyed, wasn’t afraid of him or the idea of him. YN spoke to the brunette like he was just a guy making music, figuring things out. And maybe that’s what drew him in, slowly at first, then all at once. She didn’t see Harry Styles, the soloist. She saw Harry—the restless, uncertain man who wasn’t sure if he was running from his past or trying to carve out a future. He was human, an equal, not an enigma.

He caught himself thinking about her more than he should, replaying their conversations in his head when he was alone in his flat, the silence pressing in around him. She had this way of getting under his skin without even trying, making him wonder if he’d been doing everything wrong up until now. Or maybe, just maybe, she was the first person to make him feel like he didn’t need to have all the answers.

There was something magnetic about her, a pull he couldn’t quite shake. He’d see her in the studio, headphones on, scribbling notes on a track they’d been working on, her brow furrowed in concentration. She cared about the music, really cared, and he respected that more than he could say. In the rare moments she’d look up and catch him watching, she’d smile—soft and unassuming, as if she wasn’t at the center of this storm he was slowly getting lost in.

He’d thought about it, late at night when the studio was empty, and all he had were his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if it was the music that kept him coming back, or if it was something else entirely.

But the truth was, ever since she walked into his life, the world didn’t feel as heavy. It didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

YN had a quiet way of carrying herself, something light and untouchable, like she’d mastered the art of being present without ever fully giving herself away. It was part of what made her so magnetic, Harry thought, but it also kept her at arm’s length—just out of reach. The more time he spent with her, the more he sensed there were pieces of her story she wasn’t ready to share, things she held onto with a grip so tight, it almost hurt to watch.

Her father had been older when she was born, older than Jeff was, at least—a man who had already been through his share of mistakes and regrets by the time he met Jeffery in college. YN’s dad had been trying to start over, to build something solid for himself after years of wandering. They clicked right away—two guys who didn’t have much in common on the surface, but who understood each other in the ways that mattered. Jeff was young, still wide-eyed and ambitious, while YN’s father had lived a little longer, seen more of the mess the world had to offer. They bonded over that, and when YN was born, Jeff had been right there, practically family.

YN’s mother had left when she was just a baby. No warning, no messy custody battle, just gone. Her dad was the moon, always there—faintly during the day when he worked, but always present by night. Her mother was a solar eclipse, popping up in certain areas every now and then, but never staying. Maybe she’d call and wish her a belated happy birthday, or send a card for Christmas that year. She was always fleeting. And YN thought herself the stars, always there, always ever connected to the two despite time and space.

So, her father had raised her on his own, doing his best with what little he had. Jeff had been named godfather not long after her birth, and though he didn’t say much about it, YN knew he’d always carried a quiet kind of guilt. Like maybe if he’d been around more, her life might’ve been different. She never blamed him, of course—she adored Jeff, looked at him like he was some kind of anchor in her life, a second father figure, someone she could always count on. But there was no denying that a part of her had been shaped by absence, by the cold reality of her mother’s abandonment.

She didn’t talk about her mother much. When they’d first started getting to know each other, Harry had asked her once—offhandedly, without thinking—and the way her expression shifted, the way her walls shot up so quickly, he knew not to push. He’d seen it before, in himself, the instinct to hide away when the past felt too close.

Harry didn’t know much about her. They hadn’t talked about personal things, not really. Her past wasn’t something she talked about, not with anyone, and especially not with people like Harry—people who had the world’s attention, people who might think she was just another girl with a tragic backstory. But he knew she was Jeff’s goddaughter, that she was interning at the studio, trying to figure out if music was the career she wanted. He knew her favorite artist and color, knew her favorite subject in school and her best friend’s name—Marisol. He knew she preferred sunsets over sunrises, mountains and forests over beaches. But it felt superficial, barely scraping the surface. He wanted to know more. She seemed talented, driven, but there was something else—something in the way she held herself back.

There were moments when he’d catch her smile, but it was always soft, fleeting. Like she was offering a glimpse of something deeper but never letting him get too close. It intrigued him, the way she could be so kind yet so guarded, as if she’d learned not to give too much away. It was a look he recognized, one he saw in himself sometimes, when the weight of expectations and the uncertainty of his solo career pressed too heavily on his shoulders. But with YN, it felt different. It felt like something that had been there long before she ever stepped into the studio.

Moving to New York had been her way of starting over. She’d wanted to escape the weight of her past, to carve out a life that was her own. Jeff had given her that opportunity, and even though she hadn’t been sure it was what she wanted at first, she found herself falling into the rhythm of it. The work was hard sometimes, but it felt good, like maybe she was finally building something of her own. But even here, in this new city with new faces, YN still felt that familiar pull—the instinct to keep her distance, to protect herself from getting too attached.

He wasn’t sure she’d let him in, anyway. YN was like that—careful, cautious. Maybe she always would be.

In June, a little over two months since YN started working in the studio, she and Harry had formed an easy, steadying friendship. YN wasn’t like most people in his world. She understood his music in a way that felt rare—intimately, deeply, as if she could feel the weight of each word before he even sang it. It touched him more than he could admit.

But as much as he was drawn to her, Harry could sense the distance she kept between them. It wasn’t obvious, not in a way anyone else would notice, but there was a part of YN that stayed hidden. She had a warmth to her—she was kind, smart, and always knew exactly what to say when he asked for her help. But when it came to the deeper parts of herself, the parts Harry desperately wanted to know, she stayed locked away. He saw it in the way she smiled when something hit too close to home, or the way she never let conversations stray too far from the task at hand. It was as though she’d built an invisible wall around herself, and no one—not even him—was allowed through.

But he knew better than to push. For now, their connection revolved around the music.

Sometime in early June, they were hunched over in their usual studio chairs, working on the final track of his debut album. The song had taken weeks to perfect, but they were close now—closer than they had been. From the Dining Table was raw, achingly personal and YN, somehow, had helped him shape it into something even more honest than it had started.

“What if you lean into the third verse more?” She suggested, her pen tapping the page thoughtfully. "The emotion's there, but it's like you're not letting yourself feel it fully. Especially in that second verse–maybe one day you’ll me, and tell me that you’re sorry, too. You're pulling back right when you should lean into it."

Harry stopped playing with the strings on his guitar and looked up at her, brow furrowed. "What do y’mean?"

She hummed, biting her lip as she considered the words, her fingers brushing the edge of the paper. “Maybe drop the keys lower in the last chorus..” She trailed off, lost in her own thought process. She shifted in her chair, leaning forward slightly as she studied the lyrics. "It's heavy, but it could be even more vulnerable. You're singing about something really personal here, about the kind of loneliness that feels like it's eating you alive. But in the melody, it feels..safe. I think you need to make the vocals feel a bit more broken, like you're barely holding it together. Let the silence in the song do some of the work. Think about pulling back on the production, too–keep it more stripped down.” She laughed lightly, a bit sheepish. “If that makes sense.”

Harry nodded slowly, the words hanging in the air between them. She got it. She always got it. The lyrics had been twisting inside him for weeks, and it was YN’s careful guidance that had finally helped him pull them into something real, something tangible. He picked up his guitar, adjusting the chords she mentioned, and played the verse again. The notes hung heavier in the air this time, more space, more quiet.

“There.” YN murmured. “That’s what it needed—the space between the words, the silence. That's where the emotion is."

For the next few hours, they went back and forth, fine-tuning the melody and adjusting the lyrics. YN suggested cutting down the instrumentation, making it feel more intimate, like a conversation Harry was having with himself. And as the song started to take shape, Harry felt a weight lifting. It’s what he wanted for the song, it deserved this rawness, this vulnerability.

Over the next two weeks, they worked tirelessly on the track, tweaking the lyrics, adjusting the production. YN had suggested subtle changes in the arrangement—adding faint background harmonies, letting the piano take the lead in certain sections. It was her idea to introduce a low hum in the final chorus, something atmospheric that made the song feel like it was dissolving into the empty spaces of the room. Harry trusted her instincts completely by now, her intelligence and understanding of the music so sharp that he barely needed to question her advice. She had a way of knowing what the song needed, even when he couldn’t see it himself.

By the time they reached the last day of recording that track, the song had transformed into something that felt like a piece of his soul, laid bare for the world to hear. It was time to play it for the team, to record the final version that would make it onto the album. She didn’t hear it in its entirety yet, only the parts Harry would reveal that he wanted insight on.

The band was ready, gathered behind their instruments, and the rest of the team sat in the control room, waiting to hear what he had spent weeks perfecting. The studio felt heavier than usual, the air thick with anticipation. Harry glanced over at YN, who was standing by the glass that separated the studio from the control room, her arms crossed loosely in front of her. She was watching him, as she always did, but there was something different in her eyes tonight. He couldn’t place it—something softer, more vulnerable than usual.

Harry picked up his guitar, gave the band a nod, and stepped up to the mic. The first notes echoed through the room, soft and haunting. His voice followed, low and steady, each lyric pouring out an isolation he had written into the song, each verse dripping in melancholy. The room around him seemed to blur, and for a moment, it was just him, the music, and the truth of what he was singing.

“Maybe one day you’ll call me, and tell me that you’re sorry, too.”

His voice cracked slightly on the word sorry, just as it had in practice. But this time, it felt different. More real. More final.

As the song continued, Harry’s gaze flickered over to YN. She was still standing by the glass, but something had changed. Her arms had fallen to her sides, and her eyes were fixed on him, wide and shimmering with unshed tears. It was subtle at first—a quick blink, a shift of her expression—but then he saw it. A tear slipped down her cheek, and YN quickly brushed it away, trying to hide the emotion that was overtaking her.

But she couldn’t. Not this time.

By the time the song ended, the room was filled with the soft, fading echoes of the final notes. Harry stood still, the guitar resting against his chest, his breath uneven. He watched as YN slowly stepped forward, closer to the glass, her eyes still glistening. She rested her hand gently on the pane, the only thing separating them, and gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.

It was all he needed. That nod, that single moment of unspoken approval, meant more than words ever could. She understood—she always had. But seeing her moved by the song, seeing the tears she tried so hard to hide, told Harry more about her than she’d ever let on.

For the first time, Harry felt like he had reached her core, even if just for a second. And as the team buzzed with quiet admiration for the track, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from YN. Because in that small, fragile moment, she had let her walls down. Just enough.

And Harry realized, standing there with the music still humming through his veins, that maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt something more between them. Maybe YN wasn’t as unreachable as he had once thought.

July had seemed to’ve breeze past, almost gone in a daze. It was Friday, and there would only be two more Fridays left till they would have to flip the colander pages to August. The heat of the day still mingled in the air as the studio settled into its usual weekend quiet. The crew had all left for the night, tired but satisfied after wrapping another long day of recording. The album was nearing completion, and the tension that had built up over the past few months was finally starting to lift. Harry could feel it—the sense of relief, of something monumental coming to an end—but there was still so much hanging in the air between him and YN, at least that’s what he felt.

They were alone in the lounge now, the soft glow of the low lights casting faded shadows on the walls. YN sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she sipped from a recently topped-off flute of champagne, her eyes tired but content. They had opened the bottle to celebrate finishing another track, Two Ghosts. YN wasn’t there when the production first started for this song, only there for the finalized remastering of it that finished today—and she had insisted he must celebrate, the fizzy sweetness a small reward for everything he’s been pouring into the album.

"Cheers!” Harry had laughed, clinking his glass against hers with a lopsided grin. "One more down."

He didn’t quite remember what glass he was on, but he could feel the familiar buzz of being tipsy, like he could float. Besides the lounge, the rest of the building was dark, only light seeping through was from the city outside. Harry leaned back against the arm of the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, the remnants of his drink swirling lazily in his glass. He felt relaxed—more relaxed than he had in weeks. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the fact that they were finally nearing the end of the album. But it wasn't just that. It was YN, too.

And god, she looked gorgeous.

She dressed down for the day, knowing it was Friday and she could fall into bed as soon as she got home. A hoodie hung loosely over her frame, the pair of lounge shorts coming a little bit above her mid thigh. The alcohol seemed to give her eyes more of a sparkle, her skin flush—Harry wondered if alcohol could make him look as pretty as she, but he ended up on the conclusion of probably not.

“I know I said this already.” She giggled, taking a sip of the bubbly. Her smile was hazy, eyes clouded over. “But the song sounds great.” She enthusiastically sent him a thumbs up, the bottom of his feet against the bend of her knees as his legs remained sprawled out over the couch. The curly haired boy already asked if he should move to give her more space, but her dismissal was a shouted, pleading whine of no, stay! “You should be famous or something.” She sent him a wink, and he couldn’t stifle the laughter that escaped him from how slow and exaggerated she’d done it.

The lightness in the air was contagious, and they both seemed to be floating, untethered and free from the usual tension. He rested his temple against the back cushion of the sofa, his lazy grin seemingly impossible to wipe off. “Dunno, sounds like a lot of work. Maybe I’ll jus’ start a bakery instead.” He shrugged, taking a swig of what was left in the flute after parting ways between his head and the cushion beside him. “Styles’ Pies, what d’you think?”

YN snorted, nearly spilling her champagne as she pictured it. “You? In a bakery? I don’t even think you can make toast without burning it.”

Harry’s eyes widened in mock offense. “Hey, m’great in the kitchen. You’ve just never seen me in action.”

“Oh really?” YN arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. She set her glass down on the table, waving her hand as if conducting an imaginary cooking show. “Alright, Chef Styles, what’s your signature dish? Burnt toast with a side of undercooked eggs?”

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I? That was one time!”

“Ah-ha!” She teased, biting her lip to hold back another laugh. “You know, they might not even let you into the bakery with that track record. Health code violations, and all.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry huffed, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll have you know, I’m actually a master at making..” He paused, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Pancakes.”

YN burst into laughter again, this time nearly doubling over, gently clasping her fingers around his ankles for support. “Pancakes? Oh god, I bet you’d flip them right onto the floor.”

“Oi, that’s not true!” Harry was laughing now too, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the easy back-and-forth. YN had placed her hands back into her lap after grabbing her glass again, legs still tucked underneath her. “I’ve got skills. Just wait. I’ll cook f’you one day, and you’ll be begging for more. You’ll never want to leave m’kitchen.”

She wiped away a tear from her drunken laughter, a banter that probably would not be as entertaining if she was sober. “We’ll see about that. I’ll be your taste tester—but don’t be mad if I spit it out.”

“Oh, y’ruthless tonight, huh?” He nudged her playfully with his foot, legs still draped along the sofa. “Well, if pancakes don’t win y’over, I’ll just serenade you with some of m’songs. You won’t stand a chance.”

YN’s laughter turned into a snort as she brought the flute to her lips, taking another sip before grinning at him. “Woo me with your guitar? Play a little ditty about burnt toast?”

Harry leaned forward, dramatically mimicking strumming an invisible guitar, his expression serious as he sang, “Maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two..”

YN feigned a cringe, holding her ands out in front of her as if to block the very sight of him. The tune was cute, but she would never admit that. Harry could barely keep it together as he leaned back against the sofa’s arm, rolling his eyes as she finally lowered her hands. “And I’ll have you know I worked n’a bakery in Holmes Chapel, favorite employee, too.”

“My god, aren’t you a prodigy?” She smiled, tilting her head to the side as if pretending to be bashful. “Singer, songwriter, baker of the month.”

“Y’damn right.”He tipped an imaginary hat on his head, “I contain multitudes.” He winked, a better one that YN had sent earlier, his grin wide and a little bit tipsy.

They sat in the comfortable silence that followed, both of them still chuckling under their breath, the champagne buzzing through their veins like a soft lullaby. Harry glanced over at YN, her face flushed from laughter, her body relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen before. She looked free. Happy. And it did something to his chest, a tug he couldn’t ignore.

“Hey.” he said softly, stretching his ankle ever so slightly to gently nudge her knee with his foot. “Y’having fun?”

She nodded, her smile softening as she glanced at him. “Yeah. I am.” Her voice was quieter now, the playful energy of a moment ago still lingering, but with something else creeping in. Something softer, more intimate.

Harry smiled back, his heart doing that stupid fluttering thing it always did around her. “Good, m’glad.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again, her words coming out slower, as if she was trying to steady herself. “You’re..not what I expected.”

Harry tilted his head, a curious smirk tugging at his lips. “What’d y’expect?”

She hummed, “Don’t know.” She said with a shrug, her fingers tracing absentminded circles on the cushion. “Someone a little more, I don’t know–untouchable? Like, y’know, the harry styles,’ the big deal. But you’re just harry styles, my friend.”

He laughed softly, playing with the hem of his bright pink shorts. “Jus’ me, huh? Guess that’s not s’bad.”

“It’s not.” She smiled, her eyes locking with his, and for a moment, something passed between them. Something heavier, like an acknowledgment of everything unspoken.

Harry shifted, suddenly aware of how close they had gotten during her revelation. His hand, which had been resting on her knee, slid a little higher, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her thigh. The playful banter was still there, but it was quieter now, replaced by a tension that neither of them could deny any longer.

“Y’know.”she said, breaking the silence with a small smile. “I still don’t believe you can make pancakes.”

His eyes darkened with a mixture of amusement and something deeper as he leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe I should make you breakfast tomorrow morning then.”

YN’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening at his words, and she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Harry’s lips were on hers. She instantly melted into it, as if an instinct. However, after a beat, the palm of her hand pressed against his shoulder. Their lips slowly separated, strings of saliva snapping at the middle from their mutual departure. Her breath rose and fell rapidly, a small smile on her lips. “How are you gonna make pancakes at the st–.”

Harry had cut her off with a groan, but it was humorous, mixed with his giggles. “Y’stopped that t’get technical?”

YN shrugged before pulling him back into the kiss, unwavering, still. It was tentative for a moment, as if he was waiting for her to push away again, but she didn’t. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, lips in sync as she deepened their kiss.

The taste of the fruity champagne lingered between them, intoxicating and heady. It grew hungrier, more desperate as if months of unresolved tension had finally snapped. YN’s tongue found itself swiping a soft stripe against his bottom lip, a heavy sigh emerging from him as his fingers brushed along the hem of her hoodie, slipping his hands underneath, his palm resting on the warm curve of her waist.

“H–” She whispered against his lips, her voice breathy, almost a plea. But it wasn’t a plea to stop—it was a plea for more.

His name on her lips drive him mad. With a low grown, he shifted, pulling her into his lap in one fluid motion. Her legs straddled him, holding herself as close to him as she could, their kisses turning feverish. His large hands pulled her even closer—not a centimeter of space to be left. He parted his lips, a broken breath tumbling from his mouth as she started to roll her hips against his growing cock stuck underneath the hot pink shorts.

His ring clad fingers slip father up her hoodie, the coolness of the medal a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off the both of them. Harry tugged on the fabric, pulling it over her head in a rush, revealing the thin bralette underneath. “Fuck–” He mumbled, breath caressing her skin as his lips skimmed the bone of her jawline, placing a slow, tentative kiss right at her pulse point. “So beautiful.” He was drunk in the moment that was her—figuratively and literally—his voice distant and light, like a voice breaking through a daydream.

She rolled her hips harder against him as his hands slipped under the hem of her shorts, lips sloppily trailing her chest, her nose buried in his curls. A soft moan is drawn from her as Harry’s hands grip her ass, aiding her movements of dry humping his cock. His tongue grazed the fleshy part of her breast that threatened to spill out of her bra, a shuddering exhale brushing from her lips, right into his disheveled locks.

She hastily cups his chin, pulling him from her chest to messily kiss him again. She wanted to taste the faint peach on his tongue from the champagne, to feel the stubble above his lip tickling against her. They both moaned into each other’s mouths, her fingers running down his shirt, tugging at the hem. He smiles, parting from her to pull his shirt off. It was rushed, his chin getting caught in the collar which made laughter sit between them comfortably. YN gently helps him pull the shirt from his head. It was discarded somewhere on the floor, its whereabouts not a priority.

Their cheeks are flush, lips plump and vibrant as they fall into each other’s eyes—their giggles fading out and their heavy breaths replacing it. “I want you.” She whispered, her gaze trailing from his eyes, to his lips, along the markings of his torso, then back up again.

He nodded, pressing his forehead against hers with a shaky breath. “Yeah?”

She hummed, though it sounded similar to a purr—a divinely feminine melody that made him twitch under the fabric that held him from her. “Yeah.”

He gives her a quick peck before tapping her thigh and guiding her off his lap. He looks at her as his thumb slips under the waistband of both his shorts and boxers, his glance expectant of some sort of approval or denial.

Her hands reach back behind her, unclasping the bra and letting the straps fall from her shoulders; to which he took that as his go ahead. Harry bucks his hips from the couch, tugging the clothing down his legs and letting it fall onto the floor. His cock slapped against his abdomen from the sheer force of how quickly he freed himself. It was bigger than she had expected, the head a pretty pink that glistened with precum.

He didn’t give her a chance to react for herself as he pulled along her bare waist, ushering YN back onto him. He planted kisses along her breast, the hem of her shorts sitting right against his chest, his large hands holding her inches above the cock she so desperate to fill herself up with.

His tongue encircled the bud of her nipple, one hand still gripping her ass to keep her pressed against his chest, above his length—while the other fell a tad lower, his index and middle finger slipping underneath the leg of her shorts and panties, brushing along her wet folds.

She could feel his lips spread into a smirk before he began to suck on her nipple. She buried her face into his curls, grasping onto the roots as his digits sat at the entrance of her core, heat radiating from her cunt as her arousal soaked the tips of his fingers. She whimpers, wanting to grind down on them and fill her up until his knuckles sat harshly against her folds, but he held her in place—the grip on the soft part of her ass feeling rougher. He looks up at her through his eyelashes, though her face is hidden in his hair, he still revels in it. “Y’that desperate for it, hm?”

She nods against the top of his head, eyes squeezing shut. “Yes, Harry.” She whined, fingers tightly laced between his locks. “Fuck–please, I need it.”

His mouth finds its way back to her tits as he eases his thick fingers into her cunt, tauntingly slow. Her walls fluttered around him, a soft moan escaping her as he pumped his fingers in and out, the sound of her wetness was hot, filthy—the way it bounced around the room. It only made him harder knowing that no one else will know what happened here besides them.

He curls his digits into a spot that makes her hips buck harder against his chest, a yelp emitting from the top of her throat, which he takes as a moment to smack the fleshy part of her ass, it wasn’t very hard, as if he was testing the waters to try to understand what she needed. Judging from the noises she made, and how her bum seemed to push a slight wiggle into the palm of his hand, he figured she liked it.

He pumps his fingers faster, his knuckles almost pounding against her core as he sneaks the opportunity to spank her again. A string of profanities and whiny pleas fell from her, her hands falling to a grip on his shoulders as he coaxed her to the brink of coming on just his fingers alone.

His lips are sloppy against her chest, more focused on how his digits buried themselves into her pussy. Her words aren’t coherent, a ringing faint in her ears as she tightens around him, her hips erupting into a shudder as she rides out her orgasm. He lightens the grip from her bum, allowing her to roll her hips with his fingers still deep inside her, basking in how she tried to milk herself of every drop she could.

Once her movements still, he slowly pulls out of her, the two making eye contact as he brings the two fingers to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them prettily, licking her arousal from the source.

Her breaths were heavy, eyes darkened as she watched the dirtiest thing play out in front of her. His eyes flutter to a close, a smirk speaking across his lips as if it was the most heavenly thing he’s tasted; she already feels the knot in her tummy tightening again.

She pulls him into a kiss, meeting each other harshly as she tastes herself from his lips. His hands brush along the small of her back, then to her hips, slipping the shorts and panties down her legs and off her ankles with an awkward, momentary shift in position to do so. She lowers herself as much as he’d allow, his lips stilling as he feels her heat against the head of his cock. He pulls away slightly, forehead against hers with a small flicker of disappointment on his features. “I don’t have a condom.” His voice low and raspy, thick with lust as he held her against him once again, unable to fill herself as she desired.

Her chest rose and fell heavily, eyes meeting his. “M’on the pill.” She whispered, voice breathy and light from her previous orgasm.

His eyebrows furrowed, gaze unwavering in hers. This is something he normally would never do, fucking someone unprotected. But the way his cock ached for her was damn near painful, and he trusted her. A friend he’d come to cherish, although in the back of his mind, he wanted her more than a friend. He darted his eyes between hers and the way her tummy fluttered with heavy breath. His glance was expectant again, silently needing approval to even think of continuing.

She wiggled her hips in his grasp once more, her a whiny plea a soft mutter—and it’s all he needed to hear. She sank onto his length, a slow strain befell them from how he had to ease his cock into her pussy, stretching her out with every upward motion of his hips.

The feeling of him filling her was addicting to both, pleasured sighs and moans emitting from each of them as she adjusted around his length, sinking down the shaft completely. Only a beat had past before she started to roll her hips into him, adjusting to the feeling of him. One hand sat sprawled against her back, will the other remained on her ass. Harry’s head leaned along the edge of the couch, watching through half-lidded eyes at the way her tits moved as she began to bounce on his length, having him draw sharp inhale at the feeling. “Jus’ like that.” He groaned, the hand on her back and bum guiding her movements. “Good girl–y’feel so good, jus–” He cuts off his own sentence with a moan, his head falling forward now, just a bit. His forehead grazed along her shoulder—barely—every time she’d bob up the length of his cock. “Like that, bunny–fuck.” His voice was breathy, listening to the pretty moans that escaped her and the way her cunt sounded riding his cock.

His hand slid down her back, both gripping her ass a bit roughy as he guided her movements with more force. Her lips fell agape, a whimper falling out now and then as Harry held her weight as if it was nothing, moving her up and down his thick cock with an ease that made her cry out his name.

He pushed and pulled her onto him greedily, her head falling onto his shoulder as he rested his chin on hers, watching as he pounded her onto the base of his length. The sharp sounds of skin against skin mixed in with their moans, a cacophony of their pleasure filling the lounge.

He loosened his grip from her bum, smacking her ass as his other hand gathered her hair into his fist, jerking her head back to force a semblance of eye contact. The palm of his other hand rested over her thigh, continuing to guide her movements though the momentum from her own hands against his shoulders was enough.

He knew he was close, and the way her noises got louder, how her cunt tightened around him—Harry knew she was close, too. The tiny fraction of him that held an ounce of logic through his drunken pleasure told him to pull out, but it fell to the back of his mind, silenced with the sound of his own moans and the way his length twitched, the knot in his belly rounding tightly. “Look at me.” He forced through a grunt, his toes curling against the carpet and his jaw tightened as he tried to stall his release.

The grip on his shoulders was lethal, though the only thing he could feel was her pussy fluttering around him. Her hair was still balled tightly in his fist, craning her head into a position where their foreheads were only a few inches away—the only thing that would keep her from looking if she closed her eyes. She wouldn’t though.

His hand pushed harder against her thigh, both of their skin flushed a pink from the force of the contact of the way her ass and thighs slapped along his pelvis. “Say my name–” His groan was guttural, as if he was teetering on the edge of losing his composure. With his grip still in her hair, he pressed her forehead into his, both slick with a gleam of sweat. “When you come—say it.” He grunted, eyes meeting hers once again. “Or I won’t let you.”

She felt her legs to tremble, her lips parting as the cries and whimpers of his name escaped her like a mantra. His chest rose and fell unevenly, pressing her forehead into hers further as they met their release simultaneously. Thick ropes of come fill her cunt to the point where it drips out around him. Their breaths are heavy and quick, his hands soft against the skin of her legs as they tremble, pressing his lips atop her shoulders as she sinks into his chest.

*

The next morning arrived in a hazy blur. The sky was gray as it prepared itself for a summer thunderstorm. The pitter-patter of rain hitting the window caused him to stir first, a wince from feeling the stiffness in his neck before anything else. His back was pressed awkwardly into the couch, his arm draped around something soft and warm. He blinked his eyes open, the dull light from the stormy sky offering not very much of anything as it bled through the blinds. The familiar scent of the studio mixed with something more intoxicating—YN.

He nudged his chin down to glance at the girl curled up on his chest, his shirt from last night adorning her frame as soft snores fell from her mouth. Their legs were tangled together underneath a thin throw blanket with Christmas patterns he didn’t remember grabbing before passing out. The events of last night came in a rushed haze from the smell of the champagne on his own breath. He shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, but the movement pulled YN from her slumber. She let out a small groan before nuzzling deeper into his bare chest, not wanting to let go of the warmth.

The smell of Harry’s cologne caused her eyes to peel open, her brow furrowing in confusion as she took in her surroundings.

“Morning.” Harry had rasped out, voice still thick with sleep.

She blinked, and then placed her palms against his chest to push herself up. She glanced around the studio with the turn of her head, then back at Harry with an unreadable expression. Her hair was disheveled, Harry’s discarded shirt hung loosely around her—she could feel the thickness of his come seeping out of her, pooling in her underwear and forming a dampened spot. “Oh my god.”

He winced involuntarily, and this time it wasn’t from the ache in his neck. “Um.” He paused, voice cautious. “Yeah.”

YN bit her lip, sitting up fully as she slipped into a spot between his thighs. The cushion was soft against her bum as she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Yeah.” She echoed his words, unsure of what to say.

Harry had scoot up slightly, the small of his back against the arm of the sofa. He rubbed his neck, sighing from the crick he developed for sleeping in such an awkward position. “Are you okay?”

She looked at him, her eyes still a bit dazed from the remnants of sleep and the weight of their shared moment. YN offered him a small smile, “Mhm.” She hummed, but an uncertainty glimmered along the edge of her pupil, unsure of what came next. “Not exactly used to waking up like this, I guess–but I’m okay.”

He nodded slowly, though a frown threatened to spread across his lips. He reached out hesitantly, palm resting on her knee as he sighed. “You regret it?” He asked, though it sounded rhetorical.

Her face seemed to soften at his words, sincerity and a hint of hurt evident in his expression. A furrow formed in her forehead as she shook her head, placing a hand on top of the one he sat on her knee. “No, H. ‘Course not.” She paused, shifting in her seat before forcing herself to stand, his hand slipping from her knee back into his own lap. It felt cold, and he knew she was pulling away. She very quickly stripped Harry’s shirt off—to which he averted his eyes to the ground—shrugging back on her own hoodie and shorts.

“YN.” Harry mumbled, his voice shaking as he pulled his shirt back over his head. She seemed distracted, slipping her shoes back on and putting her phone into the hoodie pocket before she trailed back toward Harry, gazing down at where he sat on the couch. He had looked at her the way he always seemed to look at her, eyes full of things that would stay unsaid. “What does this mean?”

She kneeled before him almost immediately, combing her fingers through his hair in a moment of comfort. “Doesn’t have to mean anything.” Her voice was soft, kind, as if that was the thing he wanted to hear. “We’re friends, this won’t make it weird, okay?”

He could feel his heart sink into his stomach as he nodded with slight trepidation, wishing she would just open herself up and allow him to hold her, to show her that he wouldn’t let go. “I don’t regret it, never ever.” She murmured, ducking her head down a bit to meet his gaze that seemed to lower at her words. “I swear it.”

He forced a smile, her hand pulling away from his curls—the curls she previously moaned into, the hair that she tangled her fingers in from an orgasm that crashed over her like a wave. He swallowed dryly as she back stood up, still not looking away from him. A defeat settled over him, an impatient longing as he realized if he was ever going to have a chance with the woman before him, he’d have to wait. He didn’t know what pain she held, the things she guarded so strongly, but he knew she would have to admit to herself first that she was worthy of something good. Harry parted his lips, taking a deep breath to keep his voice steady. “Stay friends?” He asked expectantly, holding out a pinky to her.

She smiled, a sad one, however. She wanted to wrap him into her arms and apologize for making the choice to walk away, but she felt it was best. YN believed she wasn’t what he deserved, and it would be in his best interest to pretend like everything went back to normal. She lowered her hand, intertwining her pinky with his. “Stay friends.”

On August fourth, The studio was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the late afternoon sun filtering through the one window in the control room. Everyone, besides YN and Harry, went out for their lunch break. Harry had asked if she would help her tweak the soon-to-be third track on the album, Carolina.

Since waking up from the sex they had in the lounge, they hadn’t brought it up—though it didn’t disappear. There would be moments where it loomed over them, heavy and unrelenting. It took everything in them not to bridge that specific gap, took everything in Harry not to bend her over the soundboard to feel her again, took everything in him not to fall to his knees before her, hugging her legs while he cried about how he was helplessly falling for her.

It was the hottest day of the year, and though the air conditioner was humming in a low buzz, the air was thick with warmth. The kind of still, lingering heat that made everything feel slow and hazy, like time itself had paused for a moment. Harry picked up his guitar, fingers brushing over the strings, testing the familiar weight of it in his hands. The sound of the first strum seemed to melt into the air, easy, relaxed, as if the room itself was humming along to the rhythm.

She kneeled down, across from the spot Harry sat on the floor, guitar in lap. She pressed on certain strings on specific parts of the neck, eyes flickering between Harry and the instrument expectantly. They both knew the notes and the chords, the tone it could give. “Try those notes.”She murmured, moving Harry’s Hand from where it sat on the neck to where she wanted his fingers to be. Her touch was delicate, and if Harry didn’t reground himself he would’ve forgot what was happening all together. “Lean into the groove more?” Her words were laced with a light chuckle as she stood up, looking back down at the brunette on the floor. “Loosen up a bassline, could add some layered harmonies, something subtle, but it'll give the track more depth."

Harry's eyes lit up, a spark of excitement that always seemed to come alive when YN shared her thoughts. She had this uncanny way of making the most complex ideas sound simple. He nodded eagerly, strumming a few playful chords, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty studio. "Yeah, that's it.” He whispered to himself excitedly, already hearing the song in his head. He began playing, the cords, melody bright and carefree, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings.

The atmosphere shifted almost instantly—no longer weighed down by deadlines or pressure, but filled with something light. Harry stood up without a word, the grin never leaving his face as he strummed the revisioned tune, the guitar hanging casually from his shoulder as he waltzed across the room, his voice bouncing with the light-hearted lyrics. The brunette’s footsteps were lazy, carefree, his long legs carrying him in wide, exaggerated circles as he moved with the rhythm, his laughter spilling out between the lyrics. It was easy—so easy—that the line between the song and the moment blurred.

“She’s a good girl.”

his voice bright and full of mischief as he twirled past her, catching her eye. He wiggled his eyebrows, a playful challenge, daring her to join in.

YN couldn’t help herself, he was infectious . She laughed, the sound so genuine and pure it filled the air. She pushed away from the soundboard, and before she could even think of hesitation, she was dancing and hopping around in time to the music, letting herself get lost along with him.

“Such a good girl”

She really was, like when he buried himself between her legs a few weeks ago.

The hem of her dainty sundress swept around her shins in a slow, lazy twirl. Her laughter mixed with the sound of the guitar, light and unguarded, like the weight of the world had lifted, just for this one moment.

Harry’s voice followed her as he floated around, his fingers never missing a beat. The melody was effortless, the chords bright and warm like the fading summer light that filled the room. His gaze flicked toward her every few seconds, catching the way she moved, her arms outstretched as she spun in gentle circles, her hair catching the golden light in soft waves.

The whole scene felt like something out of time, like they had stepped into an old, grainy film reel—faded sun, carefree laughter, and the kind of simplicity that made everything else fade into the background. There was no rush, no pressure, just the music and the way they moved through it together.

Harry kept playing, his voice growing louder, more animated, as he circled back to her, his laughter echoing in the small space. He swayed, leaning into the guitar as he strummed, almost tripping over a cable but catching himself at the last second with a dramatic flourish. YN continued her movements, her arms floating through the air, soft and unhurried, like she was dancing with the music itself.

And then, in one smooth motion, Harry waltzed closer, standing just a few feet away from her as he played the final chorus. His smile was wide, eyes bright with the joy of the moment, and YN met his gaze with the same carefree energy, spinning one last time before she collapsed against the stool, breathless from her giggles.

The last chord hung in the air for a moment longer, lingering like the final rays of sunlight spilling through the window. The room was still humming with the energy they’d created, the echoes of their laughter and the bright notes of the guitar lingering in the walls. Harry let the guitar slide gently to his side, leaning against the stool as he caught his breath, his chest rising and falling in time with YN’s, her face flushed and glowing. He was grinning, the kind of grin that reached his eyes and made his dimples crater.

For a second, everything felt perfect, untouched by the noise of the outside world. It was just the two of them, the fading summer light, and the echo of a song that hadn’t yet been recorded but already felt like it was carved into their shared memory.

All he wanted to do was kiss her again.

She was perched on her chair now, her legs crossed, still smiling from their little impromptu dance. She glowed with the warmth of the sun filtering in through the window. The carefree, playful energy between them began to settle, but the air didn’t lose its charge. Instead, something softer slipped into the space between them, a kind of comfortable quiet as they both let the last traces of laughter fade away.

Harry wiped a hand across his forehead, pushing back a few stray curls as he looked over at her, the easy grin still tugging at his lips. The guitar rested against his knee as he sat down, but he didn’t play, didn’t move. He was just watching her now, the way her fingers traced absentminded circles on the edge of the stool, the way her gaze was still bright with that unguarded laughter. It was rare to see her like this—unguarded, fully present—and Harry found himself caught in the moment, not wanting it to end.

Just as that night in July, when we pulled her into her chest to sleep for the night—when it felt like he could call her his as he wrapped his arms around her, basking in their afterglow.

YN let out a soft sigh, the last of her breathless laughter leaving her, and when she looked at him, her expression shifted. Something quieter, more serious. The playful glint in her eyes softened into something almost reverent, like she was seeing him—really seeing him.

“You know, Harry.” She smiled, her voice gentle but firm, like she was about to say something important. “This album–” There was a pause as she exhaled through her nose, but it was light from her enthused realization. “It’s going to go down as a classic. It’s real. You’re real. Your talent, the rawness of it—it’s something people won’t forget.”

The words landed between them like a weight, soft but undeniable. Harry felt his heart skip, his smile faltering just slightly as her words settled in. He’d heard compliments before—so many, often thrown around casually—but this… this was different. The sincerity in her voice, the way her eyes held his, unflinching, unwavering, as if she wasn’t just saying something kind, but something true.

For a moment, the room seemed to shift around him. It was like the air grew thicker, the light softer, the world quieter. He felt exposed, in a way he hadn’t expected, like her words had peeled back a layer he’d been hiding under, a layer he hadn’t even realized was there. The compliment wasn’t just about the music, wasn’t just about the work they’d been doing. It felt personal, like she saw him—not the version of him the world saw, not Harry, the soloist, but him, Harry. The guy trying to figure it all out, pouring every piece of himself into this album, hoping that it would matter.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight, and for a second, he wasn’t sure what to say.

He thought about telling her thank you.

He thought about remaining speechless.

No one had told him something like that in a long time—not like this, not with this kind of weight. He could feel his chest tightening, his pulse thrumming a little too fast, the gravity of her words sinking deeper than he thought they would.

He thought about her words.

He thought about her.

“YN, I—” He started to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, he wondered if maybe she understood him more than he’d ever realized. Maybe that was why her words felt so heavy, why they struck him in a way nothing else had. Because they came from her.

He thought about how much he wanted to say he was starting to fall in love with her.

But before he could say anything else, the door to the studio swung open with a loud creak, breaking the moment like a pebble dropped into still water. The team was back, their voices filling the room as they filed in, the soft hum of conversation and the shuffle of papers cutting through the silence that had wrapped around him and YN.

“Alright, alright, back to it.” Jeff chuckled, ever the dad friend, clapping his hands as he made his way toward the control board. The mood shifted, the studio returning to its usual buzz of activity, the easy rhythm of work settling back into place.

Harry blinked, the spell of the moment breaking as he straightened up, shaking off the sudden heaviness in his chest. YN gave him a small, knowing smile, her eyes still holding a trace of the warmth from before, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She’d already said what mattered.

She knew the look in Harry’s eye.

She had thought about how much she missed him.

She thought about how much that scared her.

With a soft sigh, Harry adjusted the guitar on his lap, nodding as the team gathered around, discussing admin details, technical tweaks, and publicity strategies for the album’s release. The room was buzzing again, the easy laughter and lightness of earlier replaced with the steady hum of work. But Harry’s mind was still lingering on what YN had said, the quiet sincerity of her words looping in the back of his mind.

As the evening stretched on, the work became more mechanical—emails, calls, planning—but Harry’s thoughts kept drifting back to her. He couldn’t shake the way she drifted around the room earlier, like a dandelion wisp dancing in the wind. How her laugh sounded so pretty he wanted to put it in a song. How real it had felt when she’d looked at him and told him what his music would become. It was a compliment, sure, but it was more than that. It was a belief. And for the first time in a long while, Harry felt like someone saw him exactly as he was, and believed in him all the same.

That day at the studio soon began to draw to a close, the golden light from earlier now softening into deep ambers and long shadows. The room, once buzzing with activity, had fallen into a more relaxed rhythm as the team packed up their things, saying their goodbyes with tired but satisfied smiles. The project was moving, inching closer to the finish line.

Harry leaned back, watching from the corner of the room as the last of the crew made their way to the door. The sounds of zippers closing and bags being slung over shoulders filled the space, each member of the team calling out their see-you-laters, their voices fading as they spilled out into the hallway. One by one, they disappeared, until the door swung shut with a final, quiet click, leaving just Harry and YN behind.

The silence settled in slowly, wrapping itself around the room like a warm, familiar blanket. It was the kind of silence that felt more like a presence than an absence, thick and heavy with something unspoken. Harry ran his fingers over the neck of his guitar one last time before placing it back on its stand, the metal strings catching the fading light. His movements were slow, almost deliberate, like he was trying to hold on to the quiet a little longer.

He glanced over his shoulder, noticing that YN was still at the small table near the edge of the room, shuffling her things about. She was moving slower than usual, her hands hovering over her notebook, lingering on the scattered papers like she wasn’t quite ready to leave. Harry chuckled softly, the sound breaking the stillness.

“Need help with all that?” he asked, his voice airy, teasing in a way that felt natural between them.

But YN didn’t respond right away. She kept her eyes down, focused on her things, but her movements were stiffer now, less fluid. There was something different in the way she stood there, something quiet but undeniably present—an undercurrent of tension Harry couldn’t quite place. He felt the air shift, that familiar warmth between them suddenly giving way to something more solemn, more guarded.

“YN?” Harry asked, his voice softer now, his smile fading as he stepped toward her. “Everything alright?”

She looked up then, her eyes catching his for the briefest moment before she quickly glanced away again, like she couldn’t hold the gaze for too long. Her expression was calm, but there was a tightness in her jaw, something held back, something she wasn’t sure how to say. She let out a soft sigh, the weight of whatever was on her mind finally beginning to show.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She started, her voice low and measured, like she was carefully choosing each word. “August thirty-first.” She bit the inside of her lip momentarily. “It’ll be my last day here. My internship—it’s ending.”

The words landed between them like a quiet echo, reverberating in the space left behind by the day’s fading energy. Harry felt the weight of them settle in his chest, heavier than he had expected. He knew the internship wouldn’t last forever—of course, he’d known that—but hearing it out loud, hearing it from her, made it feel real in a way he hadn’t prepared for.

For a moment, Harry didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her, trying to make sense of the sudden tightness in his throat. It felt like the air had been knocked out of him, but he didn’t quite understand why. She was still there, right in front of him, but the idea of her leaving, of this chapter ending, hit him harder than he thought it would.

“Your last day.” He repeated quietly, more to himself than to her, his brows knitting together slightly.

YN nodded, but she didn’t look at him. She busied herself with the papers in her hands, though it was clear she wasn’t really doing anything—just moving things around to avoid the heaviness of the conversation. The atmosphere had changed, charged with an unsaid emotion. It reminded Harry of the way people talk about those long, hot August nights, the kind where the sky is still bright at 9pm, but you can feel autumn creeping in around the edges, making the warmth feel both infinite and fleeting.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet breath as he leaned against the control board. He wasn’t sure what to say.

Part of him wondered if it was because of the sex. A part of him wanted to ask her to stay, to find some reason to keep her there, keep things as they were. But he knew he couldn’t. That wasn’t the way the world worked, no matter how much you wanted to freeze a moment in time.

“How come?” He finally asked, his voice quieter now, softer in a way that mirrored the dimming light of the room.

YN shrugged slightly, her shoulders barely moving. “I’ve known for a bit. It’s temporary, only a summer internship.”

Harry nodded, understanding, though the weight in his chest hadn’t eased. It was hard for him, realizing that after all the late nights, the music, the moments shared, things would change. And YN—who had always kept that quiet distance, who never let anyone too close—wasn’t just leaving the studio. She was leaving him, even if she didn’t mean it that way.

The room felt smaller now, the silence between them growing heavier with every passing second. Harry looked down at his hands, tracing the worn edges of the soundboard with his thumb, searching for something to say that wouldn’t feel like an end.

“I’ll miss you.” He admitted solemnly, the words simple, but honest. They hung in the air like a truth too big for him to admit, they hung in the air like three words she wouldn’t have believed if he said it.

YN smiled then, a small, bittersweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She still looked guarded, her walls firmly in place, but there was something soft in the way she glanced up at him, like maybe she felt it too—the finality of the moment they were both trying to avoid.

“I’ll miss you, too.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

And for a brief, fragile second, it was just them again, standing in the soft glow of the studio lights, the world outside forgotten. The weight of time, of change, of things left unsaid—all of it hung between them, heavy but delicate, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table.

Harry opened his mouth, wanting to say more, to ask her something, anything to keep her there a little longer. But before he could find the words, the moment slipped away, the weight of reality settling back in as YN turned away, gathering the last of her things.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room as she reached for the door, casting a long shadow across the studio floor. Harry watched as she stepped toward it, his heart heavy with the knowledge that everything was about to change, whether he was ready for it or not.

YN hesitated in the hallway, every nerve in her body begging her to leave. Her heart sat heavy in her chest, tongue in cheek as she turned back around, opening the door back up with trembling fingers. She stood in the doorway, cracked enough for her frame to linger. A stripe of the nauseating white light of the hallway waned over him and he remained in the same place she had left him moments ago. “Harry.” She muttered, her voice low, almost weary. There was something in the way she said his name, something different—like maybe she wanted to say more but didn’t know how to.

He perked up, his tummy doing flips. The pearly glow behind her made her seem ethereal—angelic. ��Yeah?” His tone gentle but searching, like he was trying to pull something unspoken out of the quiet between them.

She looked at him then, fully, her eyes catching the last remnants of the dim light in the studio. For a moment, the guardedness slipped, just a fraction, and Harry could see something underneath—something vulnerable, something that felt a little like goodbye.

“I’m really glad I got to work with you.” YN’s voice was delicate, her words carrying a weight that made it threaten to crack. “This–this has been more than I ever could’ve asked for.”

She was referring to more than just the music and the internship.

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He didn’t know what to say to that—didn’t know how to tell her that she wasn’t just some random, throwaway intern to him, that these past few months had meant more than just music and late-night studio sessions. She had become a part of his world in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and now that she was leaving, it felt like something vital was being pulled away, leaving him standing on unsteady ground.

“Me too.” He confessed, though he could’ve said more. Harry’s voice was quieter than he intended, his hand running over his face from a feeling he couldn’t admit.

The words hung in the air, soft but honest. YN had seen parts of him that few people did—had understood his music, his vulnerabilities, in a way that made him feel seen. And now, the thought of her not being there—of her walking out that door and leaving all of this behind—made him feel strangely untethered.

YN’s lips curved into a small, almost wistful smile. She looked down at her shoes for a moment, the tip of her sneaker nudging a stray cable on the floor. “I didn’t mean to stay so late.” A weak attempt at lightening the moment. But her eyes betrayed her, the flicker of something deeper still lingering behind her words.

Harry took a step closer, closing the distance between them just slightly. “You know.”Harry mumbled, his tone lighter now, though the heaviness between them still lingered. “This feels a lot like a goodbye when y’have a few weeks still.”

YN glanced up at him, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess we do.” She let out a breathy chuckle, though her voice sounded distant, like she was already somewhere else in her mind.

Silence settled between them again, thicker this time, like the room itself was holding its breath. Harry wanted to say more—wanted to ask her what came next for her, wanted to tell her that maybe things didn’t have to end here—tell her to stay. But he didn’t. The words caught in his throat, tangled up with all the emotions he wasn’t sure how to name.

After a moment, YN shifted her bag on her shoulder and let out a soft breath. “I should get going.” She sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s late.”

Harry nodded, but his chest felt heavy, like he didn’t want her to leave just yet. “Yeah. Right. Let me know you got home okay.”

YN’s smile was small, almost bittersweet. She began to turn in the doorway, her movements slow, like the action of leaving pained her. He sent her a small wave as she gave him one last glance, the door softly clicking shut behind her.

The summer had begun to slip away quietly, the August sun sitting lower in the sky at earlier hours. The air was different that day—thicker, heavier with the weight of something ending. There was a finality to the way the light filtered through the studio’s window, soft and hazy, like the last days of vacation in an old photograph. Everything felt suspended, as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable.

Harry had known this day was coming. He’d tried not to think about it, tried to focus on the album, on the music, on the thousand little tasks that came with putting it all together. But today was different. No matter how much he had tried to push it out of his mind, the date had circled back around, staring him in the face.

August thirty-first.

YN’s last day.

He arrived at the studio earlier than usual, the streets outside still quiet, the early morning light pale and soft against the burning. The usual buzz of excitement—the thrill of working on his debut album—was muted, overshadowed by the knowledge that by the end of the day, YN would be gone.

As he set his guitar in the corner of the room, he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. She was already there, sitting at her usual spot by the control board, her notebook open in front of her, a pen poised between her fingers. She was focused, scribbling something down, but her movements were slower, more deliberate today. Harry could tell. She knew it too.

The room was quieter than usual, the hum of the equipment the only sound as he walked over to her. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It felt like there were a hundred things left unsaid, hanging in the air between them, waiting to be acknowledged. But neither of them said anything. Not yet.

“Morning.” Harry said softly, settling down into his chair across from her. He didn’t dare to greet her with good morning, because it really wasn’t. Not today. He didn’t know when it would be again.

“Morning.” She murmured, voice almost resigned, not looking up from her notebook. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and Harry felt his chest tighten.

They spent the morning working in the usual rhythm, going over the last details of the album. It should have been a day like any other, but there was a tension under the surface, something neither of them could quite shake. Every moment felt like it was leading up to something, like the end was creeping closer with each passing minute.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, the studio had filled with the usual buzz of people—producers, assistants, technicians—all busy, all focused. But Harry’s mind was somewhere else. He kept glancing over at YN, watching the way she moved around the studio, the way she interacted with everyone, like it was just another day. But he could see it in the way she lingered on certain tasks, the way her eyes scanned the room as if she was memorizing it.

It was nearing the end of the day when the rest of the team began wrapping up, gathering their things, making plans for the next session. The sun had begun to dip lower in the sky, casting the room in that soft, golden light that made everything feel both beautiful and bittersweet. Harry watched as the others said their goodbyes to YN, one by one, thanking her for her work, telling her to stay in touch. She smiled, gracious as ever, but there was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were already one foot out the door.

And then, it was just the two of them.

The door clicked shut behind the last person, and suddenly the room felt much bigger, the space between them much quieter. Harry stood by the window, his hands in his pockets, watching the light fade as the day slipped into evening. YN was still by the control board, slowly packing up her things—her notebook, her pens, the little scraps of paper she’d scribbled ideas on over the past few months. Her movements were slow, deliberate, holding onto to the moment just a little longer.

Harry turned to face her, his pulse thrumming a little too fast. He wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t prepared for this moment, not really. He had spent the last few weeks trying to avoid thinking about it, but now, standing there in the dimming light, he realized he still didn’t want her to leave.

“Are you all set?” He asked quietly, his voice sounding too casual for how much dread he felt inside.

YN glanced up, her eyes meeting his for the first time all day. There was a flicker of something there—something that matched the weight in his chest—but she quickly looked away, zipping up her bag with a small nod.

“I guess so.” She forced a smile, standing up from her chair. “I think that’s everything.”

The silence that followed felt as if nails scratched an old chalkboard, stretching out between them like a line drawn in the sand. Harry took a slow breath, trying to steady himself, trying to find the words he hadn’t been able to say all day. He watched as she slung her bag over her shoulder, her fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the soundboard one last time, like she was saying goodbye to something bigger than just the room.

Harry wanted to ask her to stay, wanted to tell her that things didn’t have to end here—that maybe, just maybe, there was more for them beyond this room, beyond this summer. But he couldn’t. He knew her too well by now, knew that she had already made up her mind.

“I guess this is goodbye then.” She frowned, eyes glasses over.

His stomach lurched. She had his number, of course, but Harry didn’t know if she would keep in contact. He didn’t know she would erase the summer from her mind to ease her heart. Harry swallowed hard, the lump in his throat causing him to wince. “Goodbye, YN.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The room was bathed in the last traces of sunshine, everything feeling suspended in time. And then, slowly, YN stepped toward the door, her fingers brushing the handle. She paused, glancing back at him one last time, her expression unreadable.

And he caught himself. The all too familiar lump in his throat at a dull ache, the tip of his nose tickling as he felt tears well up. His feet moved faster than he could think, just a blink of time, and his hand was wrapped around her forearm, pulling YN away from the door. “That’s it?” He asked, his cheeks flushing red and his voice cracked. “That’s all?”

She frowned, her nostrils flaring as she willed away her tears. She adjusted the tote on her shoulder, averting her gaze from Harry to the wall behind him.

“Stay.” He pleaded, she only shook her head.

Stray tears fell from his eyes, heartbroken. “I can have them extend your internship, or something—please.”

Her eyes met his again, stomach twisting at his tears. “Harry that’s a hand out.” She muttered, sighing with a sadness she tried to push away. “I have to move forward.”

He sniffled, lighting placing his hand on her cheek as he brought her into a kiss. His tears made his lips wet, nose too stuffy to breathe through it—but he didn’t care. He figured this was goodbye, for a while.

Her lips were stilled against his until she melted into it, but it was fleeting. She placed her hand upon the one he had on her cheek, removing it as she pulled her face away. She intertwined her fingers with his, placing a few soft kisses to his knuckles.

He only stood there, lips quivering with tears that were unable to stop. As she began to loosen the grip on his hand, putting his arm back to his side, an audible cry left his mouth. It wasn’t loud, barely above a whisper, but it was there. “Y’pinky promised me.” He shook his head, “That we would stay friends.” He took a deep breath, wiping away some of his tears. “But I know you’re gonna disappear on me.”

This time she let her tears fall, taking a step away—the guilt was allconsiming. “Take care of yourself, H.”

And just like that, she was gone as quick as she came.

But that was two months ago, and Harry was right—she barely kept in contact with him. He tried not to take it personally for a while, seeing as she didn’t update her socials as much either. She disappeared just like a snuffed out flickered flame of a candle.

She would respond occasionally, curious to know if he was okay, how the album was going. It was always fine.

Fine, fine, fine.

But he wasn’t fine, it wasn’t fine. He missed her, Harry felt that she broke their promise. And he wanted to be angry, to block her from his mind, but he couldn’t.

He was planning to fly to LA to finish the rest of the album in late September, but couldn’t do it. He remained in New York, not ready to let go of the many things created in that studio.

It was two in the morning as he stared at the bright glare of his phone, the recently sent attachment of the final cut of Carolina staying the dismal state of delivered.

He knew she had her read receipts on, which is why he didn’t swipe away from their messages—heart thudding against his chest as he waited to see if status would ever change to read.

Of course, undeniably so, the song was about another girl. But now it felt like a contradictory, because the only thing he thought about when listening to it was YN.

He knew now that he loved her, that he was in love with her the minute she sent her nod of approval for the From the Dining Table recording.

He was a walking joke to the saying of, she fell first, he fell harder—because he fell first, and then fell even harder.

Harry groaned, shutting his phone off and letting it slip into his lap as he leaned back onto the bed. The heel of his palm sat against his eyes, the pressure allowing for the kaleidoscope of colors and patterns to play on the inside of his eyelids.

He wondered if slamming his head against the wall would feel better than the ache of heartbreak.

However, he didn’t want to test that theory out. He’ll let it remain as a hypothesis for now.

His hands brushed down to his sides, his vision fading back to normal as he stared at the ceiling. He wanted to see if he could go to sleep, maybe even watch a movie—but his phone vibrated against his thigh and he swore the world stopped spinning on its axis for a beat.

He hesitated to look, if it was another weather notification he would probably lose his mind.

But he sat up anyway, grimacing as he clicked the power button, dreading the possible sight of the familiar blue icon.

Yn: everything i imagined it to be and more

Yn: forever proud of you harry styles

His shoulders faltered, a frown settling upon his lips.

h: I miss you.

YN stared at the message, lips parted. She still sat on the bathroom counter where she had been for the last ten minutes, smooshed close to the mirror in attempt to shape her eyebrows.

But as soon as she saw the song attachment pop up three minutes ago, the tweezers remained in its clattered state in the sink.

When the song emitted from her phone she couldn’t help but smile, she swear she could’ve floated. And then she cried.

h: I have 2 more songs to finalize before we send it through to be released next year.

h: Miss picking your brain.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a pause in her breath. She wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her wanted to respond right away, to fill the silence with words, to close the gap between them that had grown wider with every passing day since she left. But the other part of her—the part that had been protecting her heart all these months—wanted to stay distant, to keep things as they were, safely tucked away in the past.

YN sighed, running a hand through her hair as she glanced at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. The one who had walked out of the studio with a heavy heart and the quiet resolve to move forward, to start anew. But that resolve was wavering now, and Harry’s words were making it impossible to ignore the ache she’d been trying to avoid.

Her phone buzzed again. Another message.

h: Still time to come back, you know. We could finish the album together.

Her heart clenched at the invitation. She could picture him, sitting in the dim light of his apartment, maybe lying in bed, the soft glow of his phone the only thing lighting up his face. She imagined the look in his eyes as he typed the words, that same softness she had seen in him so many times before—when they worked late into the night, when he caught her staring too long, when he let his guard down just enough for her to see the vulnerability underneath.

But she had walked away for a reason. She knew what it would do to her—how easy it would be to fall back into the rhythm of working with Harry, of getting lost in his music, in him. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. She wasn’t sure if she could handle the intensity of what lingered between them, the unspoken connection that had grown stronger with every conversation, every glance, every laugh shared.

She didn’t know if she wanted to take the risk to be left again.

h: Please. Just think about it.

Her fingers trembled as she typed, mouth ran dry. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew she couldn’t leave him hanging.

Yn: i’ll think about it

It was short, maybe too short, but it was all she could offer in that moment. She stared at the message for a long time before hitting send, her stomach twisting with the uncertainty of what came next.

On the other end, Harry stared at his phone, his heart sinking as he read her reply. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. It was something in between, something that left him in limbo, waiting for an answer he wasn’t sure would ever come.

He sat there in the silence of his apartment, the city outside moving on as it always did. He wanted to see her again, wanted to finish what they’d started, not just with the music, but with whatever had been building between them all those months. But he knew he couldn’t push her. YN was careful, guarded, and he had learned that the hard way. She had her reasons for keeping her distance, reasons she had never fully shared with him.

But still, he hoped. Hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’d come back. That maybe, for once, she’d take a chance.

And so he waited, the phone resting in his lap, the weight of the unsaid words heavy in the room around him.

The days passed slowly after that, each one blending into the next as Harry focused on finishing the album. He threw himself into the work, pouring all of his energy into the final tracks, refining the sound, changing some lyrics, adding new elements.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The songs were good—great, even—but without YN’s input, without her presence in the studio, it all felt a little hollow. He missed her—missed her laugh, missed the way she’d furrow her brow when she was deep in thought, missed the way she made him feel like he didn’t have to be Harry Styles all the time. With her, he was just Harry. And that was enough.

He loved her.

He hadn’t heard from her since that night. No messages, no calls. It was like she had disappeared all over again, slipping out of his life as quietly as she had entered it.

It was November sixteenth when his phone buzzed again, a message lighting up the screen. The sky was dull, a harsh breeze whipping around the branches of trees—gearing up for a downpour. His heart raced as he saw her name, his fingers fumbling to unlock the phone.

Yn: you’re in ny still?

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected to hear from her again, not after weeks of silence.

h: Still here. Why?

There was a long pause before her next message came through.

Yn: i’ve been thinking about you

It was as if the system his body needed to stay alive had paused, his mind racing with possibilities. He couldn’t believe it—after all this time, she was finally considering it.

h: If you ever feel ready, I’m right where you left me.

Another pause.

Yn: it was ever just about the album h

Her message hit him like a punch to the chest, the weight of it settling in slowly. He had known—of course, he had known—but seeing it there, written out in front of him, made it all the more real.

Harry stared at the message for a long time, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he tried to find the right words. But what could he say? He felt the same way, had felt it for months, but he hadn’t known how to tell her.

He attempted to, the day she left, cried even. But she walked away before he had the chance to continue.

h: I know.

It was simple, but it was true. He did know. He had known all along.

Yn: are you still recording at the same studio?

Harry’s heart leapt at her words, a surge of hope flooding through him.

h: Yeah, actually here right now. Brainstorming by myself for a bit.

Yn: buzz me in. i’m outside

Harry blinked, rereading the message a few times, the tips of his fingers all pins and needles

Outside.

She was there—outside, in the cold, waiting. Without thinking, he shot out of his chair, the legs scraping the studio floor with a harsh screech. His phone almost slipped from his hand as he fumbled to send her a quick reply. His movements were so frantic he had forgotten to press send.

He grabbed his jacket, threw it over his shoulders, and bolted for the door, his mind racing. She was here.

He wondered if he should slow down, would it be weird to greet her breathless at the door?

He rolled his eyes at himself. stop overthinking.

The hallway lights flickered slightly as he made his way down the corridor, his steps fast. He wasn’t sure what he would say, wasn’t sure what she would say, but none of that mattered. All he knew was that she was here, and that was enough for him right now.

When he finally reached the front entrance, he paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the buzzer. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions bubbling inside him. There was a weight to this moment—something bigger than just a simple reunion. He could feel it, like the air had thickened with all the unsaid words between them.

He pressed the button.

A soft buzz echoed through the small space, followed by the familiar click of the door unlocking. Harry pulled it open, stepping out into the crisp November air. The wind whipped around him, biting at his skin, but it didn’t matter because there she was.

YN stood a few feet away, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, her hair tousled by the wind. Her face was partially shadowed in the dingy light from the streetlamps, but he could still see her eyes—those same eyes that had watched him in the studio all those months ago, the ones that saw more than most people ever did.

The eyes of a girl he fell so pathetically in love with.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other in the cold, neither of them moving. It was like time had paused again, just as it had so many times before when they were alone in the studio, surrounded by music but drowning in something deeper. Harry’s breath caught in his throat, unsure how to break the silence.

Finally, YN spoke, her voice quiet but steady, cheeks flushed from both her deepening blush and the cold. “Hi, Harry.”

The sound of her voice hit him like a wave, familiar and comforting, and all the tension he’d been holding onto seemed to unravel at once. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and smiled, though his heart was still racing. “Hi.”

It was such a simple exchange, but it felt like everything. For weeks, Harry had been caught in this strange limbo, not knowing if he’d see her again, not knowing if the distance between them was permanent. But here she was, standing right in front of him, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like things were finally shifting.

“It’s cold.” His voice is light, jutting his chin ever so slightly to the outside that existed around them. “Come in, please.”He felt unsure of how much to say, how much to push.

YN hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering toward the door behind him. She shifted on her feet, the wind catching the ends of her coat and lifting it slightly. For a second, Harry thought she might say no, that maybe she was having second thoughts. But then, she gave him a small nod, a barely-there smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Harry held the door open as she walked past him, the familiar warmth of the studio wrapping around them both as they stepped inside. It was quiet—just the two of them now, the usual noise of the team gone for the night. He led her down the hallway toward the control room, the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, thoughts spinning with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t quite figure out how to.

When they reached the room, Harry gestured toward the seat she’d always occupied—the one by the soundboard where she’d spent so many hours offering ideas, tweaking lyrics, helping him make a few songs what they were. YN paused for a second before sitting down, her hands resting in her lap as she glanced around the room.

“It feels the same.” Her laugh was breathy, a sadness to it. Her eyes lingered on the equipment, the scattered notes, the half-empty coffee cups that still littered the space. “Like nothing’s changed.”

Harry sat down across from her, his fingers brushing absently against the neck of the guitar that leaned against the chair. “Not much has.” He admitted, his voice quiet. “Except for you not being here.”

She looked at him then, searching his face, and Harry felt that familiar pull—the one that had always drawn him to her, even when she’d kept herself at arm’s length. There was something in her gaze, something heavy with unsaid words, and he wondered if she could feel it too.

A beat had passed. “I missed this, she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you, H.

His cheeks felt hot, the words landing between them like a confession. He swallowed, his chest tightening with the weight of everything he wanted to say in return.

“I missed you too.”Harry murmured, the truth of it echoing in every syllable. And for the first time in months, the silence between them didn’t feel so heavy. It felt like maybe, just maybe, things were starting to fall back into place. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.

She shifted on her feet, eyes falling to the floor. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was sincere, dripping with the guilt she’s battled for months. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I needed to take some time, figure things out.”

He nodded, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. He would’ve tried to look better if he knew he’d be seeing her today. “It hurt.”

She pulled her lips between her teeth, eyes glossed over as she nodded. She had to look away, not able to face him. She knew she had done to him the same thing she was so afraid of—she just left. It gutted her for a while, wanting to reach out and apologize. She had this anxious feeling he wouldn’t forgive her. Rightfully so.

But it’s Harry.

He ran his hand down his face, a swirl of emotions becoming a cyclone within him. He frowned, seeing how spaced she was—as if she wasn’t here. “You need to tell me what’s on your mind.”

His tone was a bit more straightforward than he originally intended, but it was the truth. She showed up asking to be buzzed in, he felt as if he shouldn’t be the one digging.

She shook her head, trying to blink away some of her tears. “Guilt, sorrow, you.”

He nodded, looking at her expectantly to finish. He wished she could say her feelings as fast as she could walk away from them, but she was trying at least, and it felt like a start.

She inhaled shakily, running her fingers through her hair as her lip continued to tremble. “Guilt for leaving you the same what I feared being left.” Her voice had a tremor, her breaths a bit quicker. “Guilt for not saying sorry sooner. The pain of missing you—.” She whimpered, the same as Harry did the day she left.

“The guilt and sorrow will fade.” Harry murmured, his heart aching at the sight of her tears. “Y’just to work through it, don’t ignore it.”

YN wiped her cheeks, fingers shaking as she tried to regulate her breathing.. “And you?” Her voice was small, fragile, afraid of the answer.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Me?”

“Have I lost you?”

He frowned, the words caught in his throat. The question felt like it knocked the air from his lungs, and for a moment he didn’t know how to respond. The silence stretched between them, unbearable. He let his shoulders falter, “I love you, YN.”

The words hung between them, raw and unfiltered. It was stripped of all pretense, just the truth he carried with him for months. He watched her for any sort of reaction, and she just kind of stood there. He wondered for a moment if he even said anything, if it was just loud in his head but he actually had just left her hanging. “I love you.” He repeated, just in case.

"I–” She tried to speak, but her voice cracked.

She swallowed hard, tears still clinging to her lashes as she searched his face. The pain, the guilt, the regret—it was all still there, but beneath it, there was something else, something softer. Something she had kept hidden for so long, she wasn't sure how to let it out. “You do?”

He nodded, remaining vulnerable. He had no clue if she would reciprocate, or if she’d just walk away if met with the familiar fear. “Think I always have.”

For the first time, it didn't feel like there was a barrier. It felt like something was breaking, something that had been keeping them apart for far too long.

Without thinking, she reached for him, her fingers brushing against his arm, tentative at first, but then firmer as she closed the distance between them. He didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. She melted into him, her face pressed against his chest as the tears flowed freely now, the weight of months of separation, guilt, and pain finally slipping away.

Harry held her tightly, his chin resting on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body against his. This was what he had been missing—this. Not just the music, not just the friendship. It was her. All of her.

"I love you," he whispered again, the words soft and full of promise. "I’m here."

It was them, just them—like she’d never left.

[eyrina-avatar]

Fulfilled

synopsis: based on this request. Neteyam finds reader's diary full of fantasies that she wants to fulfill with him.

pairings: neteyam x reader (avatar reader) aged up ofc

author's note: I tweaked it just a bit but it's still what anon requested. This was sitting in my drafts for like a month since I was so busy. But I finally finished it! Hope the anon who made the request likes this.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, extremely heavy smut such as fingering, squirting, and creampie. proofread once, I was rushing to get this out of my drafts already. Lmk if you see any errors that need to be fixed asap lol

word count: ~6.8k this is a long one (I think my longest ever, I could have divided this into two chapters and even thought about it)- you've been warned

"Ugh, what a long day," you groaned as you hung your legs off the edge of the link unit.

"I honestly don't know how Grace used to manage being in charge of the kid's school plus do research and be so involved with the clan..." Norm trailed off as he yawned.

"And while hiding her findings from the RDA" You added.

"Probably by getting some proper rest. Which is what you two need." Max pitched in, as he handed you the back roller.

"God, that feels so good. What a relief." You sighed as you massaged your back, trying to reach all the sore spots.

"I can help with that!" Neteyam's voice hit your ears and you turned around in shock.

"What are you doing here, I though you were asleep in the tent?" You questioned.

"Yea well, you fell asleep meaning I would have to wait for you in the morning and I wasn't really feeling tired enough to go to bed yet." He responded as he took the roller from your hand and started massaging your middle back making you groan in relief.

"Yea, that's the spot..." you closed your eyes in bliss let out a small "mmm" sound, making you earn looks from Norm and Max.

"Jesus you two, get a room before this gets out of hand." Norm commented as he got up from his link unit, making Neteyam stop his movements.

"Wh-what? No, no. It's not what it looks like. Haven't you guys ever gotten a nice back massage after doing some strenuous activity?" Your cheeks flushed red in your flustered state, thinking about the possibility of ever doing it with Neteyam.

"Yea, but not as strenuous at what you and Neteyam will be doing later if you guys keep this up." Norm rolled his eyes.

"What?" Neteyam's tail stood up in shock and his ears flickered in embarrassment.

"Ha, it's not like they would bother us here anyways, they have the whole forest to go at it." Max chuckled.

"Max!" You and Neteyam yelled in unison, shocked at the words that came out of the usually calm scientist's mouth.

"What, just helping you guys out." He shrugged.

"That type of help is not needed!" You insisted as you crossed your arms.

"Whatever, as long as you two don't start interrupting anyone." Norm added in as he made his way to the shower

"Look who's talking. What I heard from Jake is that apparently Norm and Trudy were often going at it in the shared rooms." Max let out.

"That's none of you guys' business!" Norm stopped in his tracks to comment.

"Well, you sure were making it everyone's business!" Max rebutted, making everyone break out into fits of laughter.

"Woah, Norm!" You let out a giggle

"Maybe that's why he's so uptight, he hasn't been getting any action lately." Neteyam whispered.

"I heard that!" Norm made known before walking away.

"Anyways, I better go get freshened up as well, I'm a bit sweaty right now. Tell one of the repair guys that the cooling system in that unit isn't working so well." You said before placing a "down for repairs" sign on the link unit.

"Will do." Max nodded as you and Neteyam headed out of the lab and into the residency hallway.

"So, I guess I'll be going then if you're just headed to clean up." Neteyam scratched the back of his neck, still a bit flustered from Max and Norm's comments.

"What? No, I have my own room, remember? And my room has it's own shower as well, so I won't have to leave you waiting outside of some random hall. Come, come." You tugged at his arm and he followed you to your room.

"So, this is it!" You walked in and turned the lights on, closing the door behind Neteyam.

"Oh, you did some remodeling since last time?"

"Yup, I wanted to add some life to it so I added in some potted plants around the room plus some that glow in the dark, to add a 'nature-y' touch."

"Not bad. 'Nature-y' touch accomplished." Neteyam looked at the plants, curious to see how the glow would look in your room."

"Oh, let's turn the lights off!" You suggested before flicking the switch.

"Ohh that's nice, it almost looks like the forest in here!" Neteyam marveled while examining all of the colors in your room.

"Yup!" You flicked the light back on. "I just wish I could have added some vines along the window to add some greenery. That's just the finishing touch that it needs." You sighed as you looked around your room.

"Well, why haven't you? There's plenty of vines for you to collect." Neteyam cocked his head in question.

"I have plenty, it's just that I couldn't reach the spot on the wall where I wanted to attach them to. It's too high."

"Nonsense, I'll help you out. See, I can reach just fine." Neteyam stated, happy to lend you a helping hand.

"Thanks, I really appreciate that." You gave a smile and headed to your drawers as you looked for the measuring tape. "Nete, can you please get the vines? They're in my closet over there . The light switch is on the right side, and please close the door while you're at it. I have a automatic dehumidifier in there and I don't want it to start puffing extra hard and using up all of it's charge.

"Sure, sure. I'll get it, and um close the door as well. All of that..." Neteyam made his way to your closet and turned the light on. His hands rummaged through some of your clothes on the hangers and flipped through the ones folded in your drawers but couldn't find the vines.

Crap, forgot to ask her where in the closet they're at, he thought to himself. His eyes scanned the small room and landed on a few boxes stacked on the left side of the floor and one labeled 'room decorations.'

Perfect, probably in there.

He pulled the box out but three more came tumbling down as well. Neteyam hurried to clean up the mess and as his hands scrambled to put everything away, his eyes landed on a small book that landed open and face down. He carefully picked the book up and saw no words on it's cover so he decided to take a peak inside, wondering if it could be filled with your findings and experiments.

He brought the book up to his face and scrunched his eyes as he read the words on the page.

journal entry #105 not much happened today I took more lessons with Moa't and with the help of Kiri, I was able to successfully create a healing balm that was very effective in preventing infection and swelling. The main ingredient was yalna bark. Kiri found it and suggested that we should use it. Also, I took some weaving lessons with Neytiri and she said I was improving quickly. I was able to make my own top with my favorite blue and purple leaves. I later used the top while Neteyam took me to hunt some fish. I saw Neteyam staring so I think it accentuated my features well. I'll definitely be wearing it again since he complimented me and said I looked nice. Anyways, the fishing went well and Neteyam will give me more lessons tomorrow, but I hope I'll be able to concentrate. My feelings for him have been making me even more flustered lately. It doesn't help that he's so handsome. I caught myself staring at him by mistake, hopefully he didn't notice. I definitely don't want him to think that i'm some sort of weirdo.

"Neteyam, are you alright in there?" The sound of your voice snapped Neteyam out of concentration and he hurried to place the book back in the box. He grabbed the box containing the vines and hurried out.

"Gee, what took you so long? Did you get lost in there?" You chuckled.

"Sorry, I was getting the box that the vines were in and knocked down the others in the process so I had to clean up." Neteyam carefully handed you the vines and you untangled them.

"Just start at that corner of the wall and continue all the way around the room, okay?" You asked

"Got it," he nodded.

"Good. I'll go take a shower and by the time I'm done, you should be done as well." You grabbed your towel and headed towards your bathroom. "Oh, by the way, you can put any excess vines along the bottom of the wall, all around the room like the other ones!" You slipped into your bathroom and closed the door.

Neteyam quickly got to work unraveling the vines and hanging them up. By the time he was done, he heard the sound of the water turning off and the shower curtain sliding across the rail.

"Nete, can you please pass me the purple bag? It's in the closet. ." You asked as you hid your body behind the bathroom door.

"Sure," he headed off to retrieve the item for you.

"Thanks, I shouldn't be done for another 10 minutes as I'm doing a hair treatment. If you're done you can go ahead and look around my room if you want." You slipped back into the bathroom.

"Um, alright." Neteyam decided it would be best if he put the supplies back where they belonged and headed back to your closet, putting everything away. Unfortunately the words in your journal wouldn't leave him alone and he decided to take another peak.

One look shouldn't hurt, right? Plus, she told me I could look around.

Neteyam opened the box again and took your journal out. He flipped through the pages until he was met with the most recent entry:

journal entry #119 My skills have improved a lot and Neteyam says I'm one of the best hunters in the clan. In fact, I went hunting with Neteyam again and god, I had a really hard time controlling myself. His charm is so enticing and yet his personality so kind, in fact he makes me so flustered and shy sometimes. But god, his body is so hot?! Honestly, I wouldn't even mind if we banged. Of course I like him for his personality... but he's super attractive too. Gosh, I would let him do anything to me. Anything. And I mean it. I would be so lucky if I would somehow be able to get him to use his fingers on me, or better worded, in me. His dick too, I wouldn't mind. I know it's so big, I just know it, I know. I could bet all the meat from last week’s hunt that it's enormous. Probably a good 9-10 inches... I don't know if that would even fit inside of me, but I'm willing to find out.

Neteyam felt his cheeks burn up at the words he just read as his ears flickered while his tail swished back and forth in excitement.

She likes me back? In fact she likes me back so much she actually wants me to...fuck her?

Neteyam slammed the little book shut and shoved it back in the box. He knew everything he needed to know about it and was going to have the time of his life with the newly learned information. He cleared his throat and got himself together, trying to feel normal, as if he hadn't just finished snooping around his best friend's personal and private writings.

He stepped out and closed the door behind him.

"Gee, you sure took a while in there," you chuckled while combing your hair.

"Well, I was uh, putting some of the supplies away."

"Not bad, the vines came out looking nice! Thanks a lot" You exclaimed.

"No problem," Neteyam smiled nervously, worried if you would find out that he was snooping through your things.

"Hmm, a job like this deserves a little reward." You made your way over to him and flashed a warm smile. Neteyam's tail once again swished back and forth in excitement.

"What type of reward?" He asked, hoping that you would perhaps act on what you had written about.

"Ice cream!" You turned around and headed to your mini freezer.

"Oh" Neteyam murmured under his breath and his ears drooped down.

"Here, one scoop of strawberry and another one of yovo fruit. I made that one myself. I wanted to try something new!" You smiled as you handed him his bowl and spoon but stopped as soon as you saw his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. Thank you, I really like ice cream. I've only had it once or twice." Neteyam tried to come up with any excuse for his disppointed reaction.

"Oh I see, you wanted a different flavor...Well, there's vanilla too but that's kinda plain."

"No, no it's fine. I really do like these flavors. I was just thinking that maybe Tuk would have liked to taste these." Neteyam reassured and began eating.

"It's fine, I have some more saved. She'll be able to taste them as soon as Kiri brings her along to the avatar compound. You know she like's to visit Grace at least once a week" You plopped yourself on your bed and joined him. His tail began swaying left and right as he thought about a new idea.

"So, any plans for tomorrow?" Neteyam questioned.

"Nah, maybe just chill and take it easy, you know what I mean?" You looked up at him and saw how his eyes glimmered with excitement.

"Oh, then maybe you and I can hang out tomorrow. You know, just us, have some space to spend some alone time with each other. Friends always need some time to hang out with each other, right?" He gave your smaller figure a light nudge.

"Right, friends..." Your face dropped at that word and you simply sighed as you continued eating your ice cream.

"Well, it's definitely getting late now. I'm heading back to home tree to get some rest for the morning. I'll see you in the morning, alright?" Neteyam patted your head as he headed out the door and you simply nodded.

"And thanks for the ice cream, it was great. I won't tell Lo'ak though or he'll get jealous, you know how he is. Good night!"

"Good night..." you waved back and sighed, flinging your ice cream into the trash. Too disappointed to do anything else, you threw yourself on your bed and decided to get some sleep.

~~~~~

You woke up early, and with the view of a pink hue illuminating the sky, it was barely dawn and you knew that some of the omaticaya were already awake but the Sully's were probably all asleep as a rock.

You decided to bring your avatar form into the avatar facility and you quietly made your way around into the laboratory as slid into a link unit and was awakened by the sound of Lo'ak snoring in the next tent.

What a nuisance, glad I was able to sleep somewhere else last night.

You quietly made your way out of the tent, careful not to wake anyone else. Cautious with your foot placement, you made it out of home tree and to the spot where you usually meet with your ikran.

With a quick call, your ikran came flapping towards you, and you swiftly boarded it and made way to the avatar compound.

"Mawey, Ira." You petted your ikran to calm her screeching and made way into one of the buildings, past the laboratory and into your room.

Ahh, some peace and quiet. Maybe I'll just relax and give myself a spa day or something. You thought to yourself as you massaged the bottom of your feet that were still a bit sore from all of the hunting and running you've been doing.

Still thinking of the events from last night, you sighed and threw yourself back on the bed, not sure of what to make from the situation.

Does Neteyam really feel the same about me?

Should I ask him out or is that too forward?

Or should I just wait for him to ask me out?

The questions filled your mind and started to make your head pound. You decided that it was probably best if you just took a small break from your emotions and just distract yourself until your mind felt more refreshed and you could think more logical.

Heading towards your table, you grabbed a small tablet where you had recorded data about some plant samples and decided to work on that.

~~~~~

"Has anyone seen y/n?" Neteyam searched around his tent, dumbfounded with where you could have possibly gone without telling him or even waking him up.

"I saw her leave the tent this morning." Kiri commented, not even looking up as she peeled some of the fruit she was preparing for breakfast.

"You saw her? Where'd she go?!" Neteyam questioned his younger sister.

"I don't know. I'm not as nosy as you. Maybe to the avatar compound or something." She shrugged.

"What if she's in danger or something. What if she got lost?!" Neteyam stood up, getting ready to go after you.

"And where are you going without eating?" Neytiri pointed to a spot next to Lo'ak.

"Ha! Guess you can't go looking for your crush right now." The younger brother teased.

"Shut up."

"Don't worry, she's not like Lo'ak. She can actually fend for herself so I'm sure she's fine." Kiri reassured

"Hey!" Lo'ak let out in a protest.

"She knows the forest like the back of her hand. Plus didn't you say she was a pretty good hunter?" Kiri popped the fruit into her mouth and waited for her brother's response.

"Yea, but-"

"Then she'll be fine." Jake reassured as he let out a yawn, still groggy from his sleep.

"I just don't understand why she would go out without telling me. She seemed fine last night." Neteyam sighed

"Oooooh, you were with her last night?" Lo'ak wiggled his eyebrows.

"Yea, and we had ice cream, without you."

"What, that's not fair. She promised she'd save some for me." Lo'ak crossed his arms in disapproval.

"She did save some." Neteyam took a bite out of his fruit and watched as Lo'ak's tail swished back and forth in excitement.

"But not for you." He swallowed his food and let out a smirk as he watched Lo'ak's tail come to a halt.

"Whatever, screw you! She's probably pissed and you deserve it. Y/n is always going out into the forest with someone, so to not even wake you up is a bad sign. You probably did something to upset her." Lo'ak spit out in retaliation.

"What? What did I do?" Neteyam put his fruit down as he tried to process the information just given to him.

"Maybe more like what didn't you do..." Kiri murmured.

"Huh?"

"Probably nothing, you know how women are." Jake reassured his eldest son. "But umm, not Neytiri. She's always been wonderful to me. Anytime she was upset was because I deserved it." Jake chuckled nervously, saving himself as he remembered that his wife was sitting right next to him but still earning a light hiss from her.

"Yea, probably nothing..." Neteyam tried to calm his nerves. "After all, she was fine last night." He added.

"Skxawng!" Kiri knocked her brother over the head.

"Ow! What the heck was that for?"

"For being a skxawng, I just told you!"

"What?"

"She likes you. Do I really have to spell it out for you?" Kiri rolled her eyes.

"I know that-"

"You see!" Kiri gave her brother a smack on the arm.

"Stop hitting me! You see what?" Neteyam cocked his head in question.

"You know that she likes you and you haven't even asked her out! That's what!"

"I only found out last night. What was I supposed to do..." Neteyam trailed his words.

"Oh great mother. Even worse! She told you and you didn't do anything about it?" Kiri stared in disbelief.

"She didn't tell me, I found out a different way."

"Norm told you? Max?" Lo'ak pried.

"No..."

"Then how did you find out?" Lo'ak questioned.

"Mind your own business," was all that was given as an answer.

"Well, honestly, you've sorta been giving her mixed signals so she's probably confused on wether you like her or not. Maybe she went back to the avatar compound by herself to clear her mind for a bit." Kiri let out, not wanting to make Neteyam too nervous.

"Oh. What should I do?" Neteyam shook his head in question, unsure of what to do in order to fix the mess he made.

"Aww, the mighty warrior doesn't know how to approach his crush." Lo'ak let out a chuckled.

"Enough." Neytiri warned, quieting the younger boy.

"Just say you're sorry for not realizing earlier and then just ask her out. Or be more direct and say that you like her." Jake stood up and handed his bowl to Neytiri. "Good luck." He tapped Neteyam on the shoulder and made his way to the center of home tree.

~~~~~

You slid out of your chair and got up, stretching your back in the process.

God that was tiresome, but I'm glad to get that out of the way.

Deciding on a break, you headed out of your room and towards the shared lounging area. Grabbing a yogurt pack from the refrigerator, you made your way back to into your room and sat yourself down. Scooping the spoon into the cup, you were about to bring it into your mouth before hearing a knock.

"Coming!" You sighed before putting your food down and making your way towards your bedroom door.

"Norm, I told you I'm not going to be doing anymore experiments this week. I'm still putting together all of the data we collected from the last-" you opened the door to your surprise.

"Well, I'm not asking you to do any experiments. Can I come in?" Neteyam flashed a smile.

"Oh!"

"Soooo?"

"Sure, sure. Of course, come in!" You flashed a warm smiled as you closed the door behind Neteyam.

"I was wondering where you went. You know, since I told you last night that I would see you in the morning but then you left home tree without telling anyone."

"Sorry, I just felt like I needed to clear my head a bit from, um stuff..." you trailed off and much to Neteyam's surprise, Kiri was right.

"Sorry, maybe I was interrupting your personal time. I can leave if you wanted to be left alone."

"No, no! It's fine." You grabbed Neteyam's arm and pulled a chair out for him.

"I've had plenty of time to clear my head and bring my thoughts together and feel less stressed...about things. You know how life is..." You let out a nervous chuckle, not wanting to give any hints on what you were so worried about.

"Sit down, make yourself comfortable."

"Actually..." Neteyam stayed standing up. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh. well… go ahead!"

"Well, actually... I wanted to apologize to you." Neteyam let out in a low voice

"I'm sorry, what?" You tilted your head in confusion at what you just heard. "Apologize for what?"

"Perhaps I've been a bit of a skxawng. Or maybe a complete skxawng. I didn't realize but I was giving you mixed signals. I should have realized sooner and I completely apologize for that. You probably thought I was toying with your feelings. I understand why you were upset with me this morning"

"I-" Your mouth was left agape, not sure of what to say.

"No, I get it. I should have told you sooner. I know that you like me and to be honest, I like you too. In fact, I'm completely enamored by you and should have acted on that earlier instead of leaving you confused. Can you... forgive me?" Neteyam nervously scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what your response would be.

"Neteyam...truth be told, I don't even know what to say. I suppose I forgive you. It wasn't really your fault, how were you supposed to know earlier? Maybe I should have been more bold. I don't know... It's quite alright," you let out a small chuckle. "There's really nothing to be sorry about. In fact, I wasn't mad with you this morning. I just left hometree to clear my mind on this whole situation. It's actually quite silly how flustered you make me feel sometimes. I was just a bit disappointed that last night you said we should hang out today as friends when honestly, I hate that word, friend. I don't want to just be your silly little friend, I want to be more. More than friends..." you trailed off as you looked down at the floor, too embarrassed to look at the na'vi in front of you.

Neteyam brought his hand up to your face and tilted your chin up, "Don't be shy, it's fine. You're quite cute when you're flustered, you know?" He let out a small chuckle. "I probably shouldn't have used that stupid word, friend. But I hope you don't mind it being used in the context of being my girlfriend? What do you think?" He tilted his head, waiting for your response.

"You want me to be your girlfriend?" You shyly smiled as you fiddled with your fingers.

"Why not? Girlfriend, lover, or mate? How's that?" Neteyam let with a small smirk.

"M-mate? That includes getting mated and-" you cut yourself off before you could explain the full details.

"Hmm, why not? I'm interested in you and you're interested in me. Plus, I think you're not as innocent as you make yourself out to be." Neteyam raised his eyebrow and inched himself closer to you.

"Why would you think that...I've never done that with anyone before..." you trailed your words and inched backwards.

"Still doesn't mean that pretty little head of yours isn't in the gutter." Neteyam stepped closer.

"Yea, and what proof do you have of that?" You smirked, cockiness filling your head.

"Hmm let's see, I found a book in your closet and maybe read a few pages."

"Pff, oh yea? And what did it look like?" you jokingly rolled your eyes at him.

"Well, in fact it wasn't one of those biology books. It was a small little book, no title on it. It had a brown leather cover and it was just full of your writing. Sound familiar?" Your eyes widened at the description and your mouth fell open, shocked at the realization.

"What, surprised?" Neteyam let out a small chuckle as he continued inching closer to you until your back hit the wall.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about." You huffed out, trying to sound confident.

"I think you know what I'm talking about. In fact, you're even wearing that pretty little top of yours that you said accentuated your features. It does, and you're right, I couldn't help but stare when you wore it the other day. Not my fault anything you wear makes you look so pretty." Neteyam's fingers played with the string of your top, gently passing over the knot on your back that was holding it together.

Between admitting to reading your journal and staring, Neteyam’s words had turned you into a flustered mess.

“Well, who told you that you could read my journal?!” You spat out, trying to get the upper hand.

“Hmm, let’s see. If I remember correctly, you did tell me that I could look around your room.” Neteyam shrugged.

“Yeah but my journal is private!” You retaliated.

“Oh really? I didn’t see any sign on it that said ‘private/ no trespassing’ or ‘y/n’s journal, don’t touch.’ Seems like you were missing a sign. Can’t blame me.”

“Why, y- you. You perv!” You lashed out defeatedly, not knowing how else to react.

“Really, I’m the perv? I wasn’t the one writing all of my fantasies about wanting to get banged.”

“I…” you dropped your head in shame, once again too embarrassed to face Neteyam.

“Hmm, thought so.” He let out a small chuckle as he raised your chin up again. “So, do you really think I’m handsome?” He looked at you seriously before giving you a slight smirk.

“Well, you read it! No need to tease me about it” you gave his chest a slight push.

“Teasing, who’s doing any teasing? I’m just trying to test the waters to see if you’re really up to doing what you mentioned.”

“Oh-”

“So, are you?” Neteyam inched his face closer to yours.

“Are you what?”

“C’mon don’t try to play dumb. Do you want to do what you mentioned or what?” His lips hovered over yours as he trailed his hands over your waist and behind your back, pulling you in closer.

“I-”

“What’s wrong sweetheart, cat got your tongue?” Neteyam let out a small chuckle before looking you in the eyes and giving a ‘so?’ look.

You simply nodded, too flustered to say anything.

“Words, babygirl. Words.” He pushed your hair out of your face and caressed your cheek. “Would you like to try what you wrote about?”

“Yes…” you whispered in a barely understandable tone.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it nice and slow. How’s that for you, sound good?” Again, you nodded, giving Neteyam the green light to go ahead.

His eyes fell to your lips and yours on his. Each just a few centimeters away from the other. You leaned in and yours just gently brushed against his. Neteyam’s arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you in during the process, lips making contact for the first time. You let out a small gasp and his came crashing down on yours again, pushing your head back to the wall as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His lips moved in pace and you followed along, inexperienced but quickly catching on. Your hands traveled up and down his neck and Neteyam let out a small groan as you gave a slight tug on his hair. Hands started moving quickly as you found yours on his chest, traveling up and down and his on your back. His lips took a turn and started making his way down, leaving small pecks all over your collarbone and eventually moving to your neck, where his mouth left a wet trail wherever it could.

“Mmm, Nete-” you let out a moan as his lips sucked on your sweet spot making your body fidget in his hold. His lips traveled up your neck and you were sure you were going to have a few bruises for show.

“Neteyam, you’re gonna leave hickeys all over my neck.” You barely managed to breathe out.

“I know… that’s my plan,” he let out in between kisses. “…to mark you… As mine… all mine.” He held onto you and made his way to your bed, not letting go for a thing in the world. Neteyam sat down and had you on his lap facing him, your legs straddling him while he continued to make his mess.

You lifted his face and kissed his lips again, desperate to be able to do some of the action yourself, you pushed his chest, making him inch backwards as you crawled to him, lips still connected to his.

You sat up and his fingers started toying with the knot from your loincloth, still not stopping the kiss as he worked his hands behind your waist.

Neteyam's fingers worked quickly as he untied the knot and slid off the loincloth from under your womanhood. He lifted you off of his lap and placed your back on the bed while he laid next to you, his hands roamed over your body and made their way to your core. Neteyam gently massaged your nub, earning an erotic moan from you. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth as he used his hand to spread your legs wider and brush his fingers over your clit, speeding up as the kiss grew more heated with each passing second.

"Oh.. fuck" you managed out as your hands fell on his, guiding him to a quicker speed.

"Mmm, you like that don't you, sweetheart?" Neteyam let out a smirk as you nodded a desperate 'yes' a your eyes scrunched closed. His hands made their way down to your entrance and he inserted a finger, making you groan in response.

"Fuck..." you groaned as Neteyam stretched you out, making way for his other fingers.

"If I remember reading correctly, you did write that you would be grateful even if you could have just my fingers inside of you. How's that coming out to be?" Neteyam smirked as you moan out a 'good.'

"More, please" you whined out as you attempted to close your legs to gain more friction.

"I can't give you more if you don't open your legs for me. My hands are trapped between your thighs right now syulang." Neteyam's hand moved up to pry your legs open, and you sighed at the slight loss of friction.

"No need to worry, your wish is my command sweetheart." And with that he inserted his second and third fingers without warning. Deep inside of your warmth, he moved his fingers in and out, making sure to hit all the spots of your wet walls.

"Shit....shit! Go faster!" you moaned out in a high pitched voice, convinced that if it weren't for the oxygen sealed doors and windows soundproofing your room, all of the scientists would have been raising their eyebrows by now.

"How's that? Enjoying it?" Neteyam managed out between kisses.

"Fuck yes!" you threw your head back in pleasure as you felt yourself nearing your orgasm.

Neteyams worked his magic in you, sparing your poor pussy no mercy as his fingers pumped in and out while his thumb played with your nub at an increasingly quick pace causing your eyes to cross for a split second as you covered your mouth as to not scream. Holding yourself up with your elbows, you watched as the Na'vi in front of you worked tirelessly to get you to explode.

"Neteyam! I'm getting close... I'm- I'm gonna..." You threw head back once more as your knuckles turned white from grabbing the bed sheets.

"Come! Fucking do it baby, I know it's in you!" Neteyam accelerated his pace as his fingers moved vigorously in and out of you, repeatedly hitting your g-spot.

"Ah- ahh... fuuuck" You let out a loud whine as your hips buck up and down while your orgasm washed over you. Your eyes close tightly making you see stars and your mouth falls agape as low whimpers leave your throat.

"Nghh.. oh my god.." you squeal out under his touch before he slows down and pulls his fingers out. Neteyam lifts up his hand and brings it up to your face, drenched fingers brush across your lips as you open your mouth and give a thorough suck.

"Mmm, that's a good girl" Neteyam praises as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, licking them clean of any residue. With a 'pop' sound, he pulls his fingers from between your lips and you sit up, looking at him with your big yellow eyes as you tug on his loincloth.

"Ready for round two, already?" You give a small nod and Neteyam lays you on your side and props your right leg up.

He positions himself behind you as your hands work beside you, helping untie his loincloth. Springing out, his length smacks your ass and Neteyam lets out a small sigh of relief. He spits on his hand before making it down between his legs and giving himself a few pumps.

Neteyam brushes his cock against your slick cunt, earning a light moan from you as he rubs it around your entrance.

"You ready sweetheart? I'll go nice and slow for you." Neteyam gives a small peck on your lips before you answer with a small 'yes.' He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes his mushroomy tip in, slowly driving his full length inside of you.

"Nghh.." was all you managed to let out before he asks 'are you okay' and you give a small nod. His dick goes all the way in and you can feel his tip against your cervix.

"Fuck, you're so big..." you squirm yourself around as you try to get used to the new feeling.

"You said you wanted to try it." Neteyam lets out a small chuckle at your struggle. "Ready?" He asks, making sure that you're all stretched out before moving."

"Of course," and with that, he pulls himself out completely before thrusting in with full force, making you yelp in surprise. Neteyam starts thrusting in and out of you, filling the room with sounds of skin smacking against each other.

"Shit" he groans out, untying your top as he continues smacking himself into you. Neteyam grabs your breast in his hand and starts sucking as his hips pick up in pace, making you moan aloud.

"Fuckk...fuckk"

"Enjoying that, princes?"

"Yes. I love it so much!" you whine out as his dick hits against your cervix, making you shut your eyes in pain and pleasure. You can't help but tighten around him as he plays with your breast and his lips leave a trail of kisses on the back of your neck.

"Fuckkk, too big!" you let out in almost a scream before he wraps his hand around your neck, applying just a small amount of pressure.

"y/n, stop that... you're gonna make me spill inside of you if you keep squeezing yourself around me like that." Neteyam warned with a light smack on your botton.

"I can't...help it... You fuck me so good!" You let out in between breaths. Neteyam pounds himself into you, making you whine out incoherent nonsense and you can't help but tighten your walls again.

"Fuck...fuck!" Neteyam grits between his teeth and you can tell he's near his high as his hips start moving desperately.

"I *thrust* think *thrust* I'm *thrust* gonna *thrust* come!" Neteyam lets out in a groan before you feel his hot cum spill all over your insides making you moan at the feeling. His white juices overflow your insides and soon spill out, dripping down to underside of your legs.

"Mmm, princess, you look so fucking good with your pretty little hole filled up like that." Neteyam goes back to kissing the sides of your neck and once again, his fingers start playing with your insides while you play with his length in your hands, trying to harden him up again.

"Shit," he huffs out in sensitivity as your finger plays with the tip of his cock, swiping it over and over again.

"Alright let me finish you up, I've got this." Neteyam gives your thigh a light pat and you let go of him, letting him take control of his length and bringing it to you entrance again.

He thrusts into you without warning and you yelp out. His thrusts continue roughly, not giving you time to adjust. Neteyam hits your insides repeatedly and it makes you whimper in pleasure.

"Ah- ah! Neteyam... I'm close!" You let out in between whimpers as your hands search for anything to grab onto while your orgasm approaches.

"Mmm....fuck. Good, you're almost there sweetheart" Neteyam grunts out as his hips continue pushing into your rear.

"I'm gonna- I think... I'm gonna come!" You let out in a loud whine and Neteyam pulls out before pushing himself back in completely, causing you to moan aloud as your orgasm hits you, making your back arch and your legs tremble as you grab onto him while you squirm around as Neteyam pounds into you as fast as he can.

He pulls out, leaving you to squirt your juices all over your legs and on the bed. Your hips heave up and down as the clear liquid jets out of you, leaving you breathless until your high calms down and your legs stop shaking.

"Holy shit..." Neteyam lets out in a small chuckle as he stares in amazement.

"Well... that was intense" you break the silence and the both of you stare at each other before breaking out into small giggles.

"Are you alright, was I too rough with you?" Neteyam gently rubs your shoulders as the both of you lay down, flat on your backs, exhausted.

"No... you were fine. It was good." You flash him a shy smile.

"So, was it everything you expected... or did you I let you down?" He asks with a small chuckle.

"It was... interesting... definitely better than I expected." You chuckle as you lay your head in the crook of his neck.

"So I guess we can say... your wish has been fulfilled." Neteyam pokes your cheek, teasing you.

"I guess so..." you hide your blushing cheeks on his collarbone as he laughs at your shy antics. He slightly lifts up your face and gives you a small peck on your forehead as the both of you bask in each other's warmth.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

HEW, did this take FOREVER to write, OMG! But I'm so glad that I finally got it out! Thank you for this wonderful and super fun request, it was definitely a hell of a journey to write but I really enjoyed it! Hope you guys enjoyed it as well.

as always, comments/reblogs are always much appreciated as they help support and motivate your favorite writers, thank you❤!

do not steal my work and please don't post it on ao3 or wattpad

© eyrina-avatar

colors used: (1, 219, 250) and (1, 179, 204,)

[partycatty]

I can't get enough of young Johnny MK11! I love him, god!🥵 How do you like this topic for fanfic? Fem!reader put his jacket and glasses on his naked body, and took sexy selfies.😎❤️‍🔥 Johnny saw this aaand here I’m already giving way to your fantasy hehe~

Thank you in advance! I like the way you write! Well done💕

i'm not sure if i read it right ?? lmk, but i went with my interpretation

johnny cage > call me

johnny's out late working, as usual. you've had enough of waiting and decide to bait him into coming home early

warnings: PHONE SEX TEEHEE

notes: do you guys also like genuinely tweak out wishing he was real? he's so perfect? peak malewife? wishing u were [REDACTED] his [REDACTED] rn?

masterlist

• you were often left to your own devices when it came to living with johnny. he, after all, was a star constantly running around on new projects. any studio would be at his knees for just one contract. he was hollywood's richest man, and you were lucky to call him your boyfriend.

• sure, it had it's moments. the paps stealing upskirt shots from you wasn't ideal, neither was the bush stalking. but you could see past that. what was hardest was when johnny would be gone all through the night, dressed in that stupid ninja mime getup that you learned to loathe since it pulled him away more than his other works. does the world really need a ninja mime trilogy? yes, apparently.

• boredom overtook you, since browsing on your phone for eight hours was now becoming a horrible habit on your neck - and mental stability. you took to mopping the floors, tidying the countertops, dusting his awards. finally, you settled on your walk-in closet.

• it was spacious, big enough for you to each get a side. your side was always decently organized to your liking, but johnny's was... atrocious. jackets hung on one sleeve, some on the floor. the only thing that was neatly organized on his side was the giant rack of sunglasses. he always had a pair to match the outfit and occasion. he probably had about three pairs on him at work.

• as you tried to rearrange his clothing, his distinct, classy scent filled your nose, sticking to the inside of your nose and you couldn't help but feel heated. you missed him, him and his dick. you took a deep whiff of his iconic blue and purple jacket, the one he left at home knowing he'd have to get in costume anyway.

• you threw it over yourself, embracing your torso and spinning in the mirror. it fit him perfectly, but on you it was like a blanket. the sleeves sagged off of your arms and your midsection was swimming. his size was impressive, his form shaped like a greek god.

• you couldn't help yourself, the memories of him and scent turned you on. blame pheromones, dammit! but, you realized you could take advantage of this.

• throwing your shirt off, you donned the jacket again, wearing it like he does - chest exposed. a purple pair of sunglasses practically screamed your name from the rack and you put them on. you looked just like him...! no, not really.

• touching yourself in his clothes was not a new idea, but there certainly was a new idea blossoming in your head. you pulled your phone out and snapped a mirror selfie, trying to flex like he does but your muscles were muffled from the loose fabric.

• how's this for the next cagecon? you text johnny, attaching the photo. you didn't expect him to reply right away, considering he was at work. but before you could lock your phone for the moment, his name popped up within milliseconds.

• don't take me away from work, baby! johnny replies with a winking emoji.

• what if i want to? it's so lonely in your mansion, you reply with an angel emoji, sitting on the edge of your shared bed as you fight a grin. you angle the phone downward, capturing your bare chest. your nipples brush against the jacket, making them stick out through the front. johnny takes a moment to reply, but you feel your phone vibrate once, then twice, then three times.

• fuck, you're so hot in my clothes.

• i'm taking my break early. can't work with a boner.

• the third message was a short video of him palming himself through that stupid costume. the only thing you can thank that outfit for is how prominent it makes his bulge.

• phone sex through texts was also nothing new to you two, considering the distance. as your fingers sink under your panties, assuming that's where things will go before you get a fourth message.

• call me. please.

• you sit up straight, biting your lip. his desperation always got you going. you kicked your pants and panties aside.

• you send one last photo, your body spread out on the bed in his clothes. your hand conceals your dripping pussy playfully.

• why should i? you shoot the message out, giggling at your own words.

• johnny doesn't even reply, he opens your message and calls you. you eagerly accept his call. his voice is echoey and rough. you realize he's hiding in the bathroom. his breathing is heavy.

• "are you proud of yourself?" he asks in a low rumble, trying to stay quiet but his flustered huffing makes his voice whiny. "look at what you did."

• he sends a photo. his cock is eager and out, and you see a teardrop of precum on his tip. you happily exchange that photo for another one, a short video of you gingerly touching yourself. he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

• "i couldn't wait til i'd get home," he admits, and you hear the slick sounds of him jerking off. "i want to, i want to come home and fuck you like that, but i'm here for another two hours."

• "you couldn't have waited?" you ask in disbelief, circling small loops on your aching clit.

• "no." johnny's reply sounded so sure of himself, so convinced in his words. he was as firm as he would've been if you asked him if he killed someone. he knew this to be a fact, he could not wait. "i can't help it, sweetheart. you're just so... god."

• his breaths get heavier and needier, you can sense he's speeding up on himself. you try to match what you assume is his pace, one that he confirms through another video. he held the phone below his dick, giving you a delicious view of his abs and bobbing adam's apple as he swallowed hungrily.

• his arms were painted white, but his hands were his usual flesh tone since he wore gloves for the costume. even still, his veins were incredibly prominent and really helping you reach your climax.

• "we gotta make this quick, baby," he grumbles into the phone, muffling his moans through bitten lips. you're a little louder due to your privacy, much to his delight. "people'll start looking for me."

• "johnny," you whimper out, back arching up off of the bed. "i'm already close." through your haze, you get a video of you masturbating wildly, the jacket now sliding down to your sides and fully revealing your tits as you fuck yourself. "i-i need you, i need you so bad-"

• "i know, baby," he breathlessly replies, straining himself to avoid moaning out your name and attracting attention. "let me hear how badly you need me."

• you could only spew out utter nonsense at this point as your orgasm is dangerously close. he seems to get the memo, though, and gives you permission to cum with him. your needy cries and his muffled grunts make a perfect chorus that you only wish were in person.

• when your breathing slows, as does his, you hear him chuckle to himself. a new message appears in your chat.

• his weeping dick was cradled in his palm, as was a entire handful of semen dripping down his fingers. he wanted to show you just how hard you made him cum from phone sex alone.

• "round one was now," he mumbles as you hear him tear a piece of toilet paper to wipe his hand. "round two is when i get home. you gonna be ready for it, princess?"

• the phone rests on your bare, damp chest as you fixate on the ceiling. you take the sunglasses off and wipe your face with a smile.

• "i'm always ready," you reply with a giggle.

• "that's my girl. see you in two hours. i love you." and with that, he hangs up, leaving you a naked, sweaty mess that's only concealed in his jacket.

[elliereject]

ifhy .2

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, ellie beats someone up, angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* HELLLLLOOOO!? oh my god 100 likes on part 1 and over 100 followers??? ty? so much?? <3 the next parts almost done so I gotta tweak some things but I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I meant to post this like 2 days ago but I fell asleep editing…

* mdni

* wc ~ smth like 1.8k

pt .1 here ★ pt .3 coming soon

“Are you seriously wearing that?” You sighed, flopping back on Ellie’s twin bed.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Ellie asked, eyeing her worn skinny jeans and a black oversized hoodie.

“First, there’s a hole in the side of your hood. Second, you wore that 3 times this week already.”

“No, I didn’t. These are different jeans!”

You groaned, “Ellie it’s a party, live a little.”

She let out a small laugh, “Says you, you were literally on the verge of throwing up like 5 minutes ago. Did whatshisname text you?”

She crossed her fingers in hope that he hadn’t.

You rolled your eyes, “You know his name, and he said he got there about 20 minutes ago and’ll meet me near the living room.”

“Cool, cool.” She said stiffly. “We should probably get going then.”

You jumped up from the bed, practically skipping over to the door. “Finally, you take a surprisingly long time to get ready.”

She didn’t. She was just trying to drag out the amount of time she had before she saw you clinging to your boyfriend and laughing at his stupid jokes.

She was still trying to find a way to show you that he was a dick and she was what you needed but all the ideas she had ended up with him dead and while she was considering it, you probably would have a hard time forgiving her.

The two of you trekked down to the elevator and while your back was turned she couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to slip her hand into yours. How would you react? Would you recoil? Or would you squeeze her palm? Ellie was never really a touchy person yet she made some exceptions when it came to you, however nothing as intimate as hand holding.

And something screamed at her, begging her to try. Her fingers itched by her leg and before she knew it she was stretching out her arm.

Close…so close she could feel the warmth radiating off you.

In a moment you whipped around and she didn’t have enough time to retract her hand.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tilting your head in a way that made her heart ache.

“You just had a uh– a piece of lint.” She lied easily as she picked nothing off your sleeve.

“Oh, thanks! Easier to get rid of then a hole, huh?” You let out a giggle and stuck your finger through said hole, she forced a laugh.

The rest of the ride down Ellie urged herself not to have any more daring thoughts.

Once down, you cracked jokes about your professor and weirdos in your classes, and Ellie tried her best to laugh along, all the way to the frat where the party was being held. Once you made it, you shoved past the sweaty bodies in the living room to look for your boyfriend whilst Ellie shrunk into the kitchen to confide chat with Jesse who was busy chugging a twisted lemonade.

“Jesse. I want you to thank God you aren’t a lesbian.” Ellie groaned, pulling the drink from his lips and taking a swig herself.

“Shit. What happened now?” He sighed, reaching past Ellie to grab another. Ellie’s been moping about you to Jesse for a while now, although he doesn’t really know it’s you because she doesn’t wanna fuck up the way her friends view your guys’ relationship.

“I was walking behind her earlier before we got into the elevat— classroom. And I was like 5 seconds away from grabbing her hand.”

“And why’s that a bad thing? I thought you liked her.” He asked in between sips.

“Because she has a fucking boyfriend! And that would’ve been so embarrassing I think I would’ve bit off my tongue and killed my self right there.”

Jesse let out a low whistle and Ellie crossed her arms. “Don’t you have any advice for me, or are you just gonna stand there?”

The man shrugged, “You’re not gonna like what I have to tell you. Have you tried talking to Joel about any of this?”

Ellie shook her head with a sigh, “He’s busy with work as is, I don’t wanna bother him with this shit when I barely even get to talk to him.”

“Well then, you should prob—hey! ★ what’s up?”

Their conversation was cut short as you walked into the crowded kitchen. With no luck in the living room, you decided to retreat there to talk with your friends while periodically checking your phone for any missed calls or texts.

Ellie noticed the worried look on your face. “Hey, hey. He’ll call. And if he doesn’t he’s a fucking idiot.”

She urged you to try and live in the moment and reassured you again that’d he’d call soon, even though she hoped and prayed he didn’t.

You gave her a small smile and muttered “I guess.” Before taking the red solo cup she offered you and downing it. Eventually, Dina joined your little trio and you temporarily forgot all about him since you were having so much fun chatting with your friends.

Ellie, still smiling, excused herself to the washroom after announcing she had to piss and thank god she did because the scene she stumbled upon literally made her laugh with joy. She had been looking for a reason to beat the fuck out of your boyfriend and did she find it.

After mistaking one of the bedrooms for the washroom—since every fucking door in that house looked the same—her eyes immediately landed on the familiar lanky figure who was shacking up with some tiny brunette bitch.

“No fucking way!” She guffawed, completely amused.

“Please, it’s not—“ Your boyfriend started, pulling his lips from the girl and straightening out his shirt.

“I’ve been looking for a reason to beat your sorry ass! This is just perfect.” She laughed manically as she stomped into the room, slamming the door behind her and cracking her knuckles.

The girl he was previously with was shaken to her core, and practically sprinted out of there. Before he could get out another word, Ellie’s fist was already crushing his face.

“You dick, God I knew you were an asshole but this is just—wow! Cheating on her when she is most definitely the best you could ever do?” Another punch and he was on the ground.

Blood was leaking from his nose and his lip was split. Suddenly she was on top of him, her fists flying. His glasses were broken and tears ran down his face pathetically.

She’d bottled up her emotions for so long; her love for you, her jealousy towards him, her anger at the entire situation, that it all muddled together and bursted the bottle, sending shards everywhere.

Ellie has always been an innately intense person, but this, pummelling something that deserved it, someone that she’d been fantasizing about beating the shit out of ever since she’d met them. It felt good.

“Pl-please stop.” He begged, and she halted her fists, but only for a moment.

She scoffed. “Stop? Stop. Man, I should rip your tongue out. Maybe that’ll finally shut you up.”

His eyes widened as he scanned her eyes for any sign of sympathy, of mercy, but all he found was icy green.

“You’re fucking crazy!” He shouted, trying and failing to shimmy her off him.

She shrugged, “Maybe.”

She was about to throw another fist but she heard frantic footsteps speeding toward the room.

“Shit..” She tapped the side of the guy’s face harshly as he was beginning to black out. “Listen, you’re going to get up. Hop out the window and take your ass home, if someone asks what happened say you got jumped. You’re not going to look at ★ again, text her, call, or even breathe near her. Transfer out of her classes and if I even get the idea that you’re thinking of contacting her again, I will find you. And I will rip your tongue out, got it?”

He nodded wildly and she finally got off of him. She watched as he scurried toward the window and hopped out, it was only a few feet, he’d live.

Ellie wiped her stained hands on the inside of her sweater and opened the door just as the brunette from before was about to, she was standing next to one of the frat guys.

“What’s going on?” Ellie said easily, putting a charming smile on her face and hiding her hands in her pocket.

“Where is he?” The brunette asked worriedly.

“Who? It’s just me in here.” Ellie said looking around confused.

The frat boy looked behind Ellie and them at the girl before sighing and turning back around, “Don’t bother me again. Just enjoy the party.”

“B-but—“ She immediately shut up when Ellie shot her a malicious glare.

She strolled out of the room and back toward the main floor to see you sulking on the couch, checking your phone.

“What happened?” She asked, sliding next to you and resting her arm behind you on the cushions.

“He still hasn’t answered.” You pouted.

And for the first time in months she shot you a genuine smile, despite the fact you were talking about him. “I wouldn’t worry about it, don’t think you’ll hear from him anytime soon.”

You smiled at her and she shot you a weird look, “What?” she asked.

“Nothing..you just seem a little happier than usual.” You said, leaning into her arm.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

tagz ଳ (send me a message to be added!)

@bready101

[grossnyucky]

Samsonite Headcanons

gonna put everything undercut, taking this from my comments on someone else's post so sorry if this is formatted weird i've never done anything like this </333

please feel free to tell me yalls headcanons too tbh

I like to think he's selective mute

his smile is his resting face which can make him hard to read initially

with that being said I think if he cares about you in our way traditionally, I think he takes the time to add nonverbal signals for his emotions

his ears twitch/move to show emotion, like a cat's (I think it would be easy for people to get confused what it means, which would end up with tales mixing which signals mean what for people who encounter him)

also giving him a small tail just cause, tails are fun

his favorite on brand is mtn dew :]

Samsonite likely inspired music in that universe, which would give more reasoning to drums/bass considering he likes a beat

that being said, I think he'd enjoy things like electro swing and would actively switch his dance style (enjoy the swing dancing mental image)

if y'all listen to music together that doesn't have much bass/beat I think it's slowly turn into pony by habit

he's a horse and I'm basing it off of the fact the song is Pony, do with that as you will

though all of his outfits have the overall and hat combo, I do think he also has the sagging pants and open shirt outfit on very rare occasions too (begging someone to draw this ngl)

I also want more people to draw his small fucked up form that appears during the exorcism, and whenever he tweaks out

on that note, he needs a host every once in a while. Taking liberties there I like to imagine it like Venom if he's weak enough/if a person is powerful enough

he calls you a doodoohead etc if you don't listen while he's in the backseat

this does probably mean being on a people's soul/on brand soda diet, so rip ur wallet probably

if you take his hat count your nanoseconds

Samsonite is playful/a tease, he likes to torment before taking people as a host or to his domain I feel like it's a given

if we go with the headcanon that he's a pig, he snorts for laughter

his domain reaches not only closets, drawers and bed undersides, but I also like to think this means any larger pieces of room furniture

he 100% uses this to jumpscare you or pulling you off the bed just cause

I think this would also allow him to travel via luggage

he can become pocket sized, let him have an iPod to listen to fr

he probably disappears for months at a time before coming back regularly, he's gotta feed

I think he'd adore scratches/pets

on that note watch out for biting or potentially ur soul being eaten (it's worth it though)

on the fence about how I see this, but I think touch is a one way street more often than not

but that could also be why he likes scratches and pets whenever he allows them

self-inflicted touch starved LMAO

if you think of him romantically, hear me out on doomed relationship cause technically he is one of the "great old ones"

denies each trip without taking you to the domain as stalling because he is attached but his survival needs mean more

using you as a host because in a way its a compromise, the best that both of your limits can offer anyway Anyway, I'm insane and if yall want something specific lmk :]

[anonymouse5]

tips for writers block bc I need them:

~ go back and re-read what you’ve written

you might find spots that are keeping you stuck/scenes you need to scrap

~ work on a different wip/start a new wip

you might just need a break from this one & the other might give you inspo, esp if it’s similar genre/characters/etc.

these are motivation boosters/ways to get inspiration:

~ make a pinterest board or playlist (if you already have one, add to it)

~ daydream about scenes/characters

~ read something in the same form as what you’re writing, try to analyze why certain scenes work or certain characters draw you in

more random tips:

~ brainstorm random scenes that could happen in your story

if you can’t use it for this one, save it for something else!

then you can look back to these scraps later and see if you want to include them when you have writers block later

~ write a different scene

if you haven’t gotten to the scene you’re most excited to write, write that one.

if your brain is weird like mine and won’t let you write out of order, write it in a separate document/notebook depending on whether you type or write out your stories.

if you have a specific brainstorming notebook, write the scene in that. find what works for you!

~ try a sprint

try to just free write for 1 min, 5 min, 15 min. whatever you feel that you can. even 30 seconds. this might help you get into the flow. if it doesn’t, at least you wrote something. progress is good!

you can try different writing websites that make writing a game or force you to write or it will delete your work (this stresses me out so I don’t do this)

~ reread a different work of yours

try to reread something you’re proud of. this could be a confidence boost!

~ use a prompt

this can be a picture, a painting, a song, something you read (quote, poem, story, etc) or any other form of art. it can literally be anything. prompts will get you started.

~ try to remove doubts/become calm

sometimes writing becomes hard because we’re not fully confident in our writing. it happens. just remind yourself that it takes time to get good and even great writers get imposter syndrome, writers block, etc.

chill and see where your writing journey takes you. this applies to all aspects of life btw.

~ write about your writers block

this might be dumb, but it might be a great relatable poem? again, getting words on the page is good. quantity over quality for now. we can work on the quality once we get into the flow, y’know?

~ go back to square one

if you’re a plotter, go back to plotting. flesh out some of those vague ideas. add to your character sheets. think about the mood you want to create. tweak your mood board. etc. idk i only plot sometimes.

okay! happy writing. lmk if you want more tips <3

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Midnight Masquerade - Echo

Chapter Summary: Echo is the lucky bastard who gets to fuck you—or maybe you're the lucky one.

Chapter Warnings: siren!Echo x gn!reader; kinks: formal wear + voice kink. unprotected penetrative sex (can be read as PiV or PiA), cum as lube, Echo has hair because I say so, this one's a little more tame on the 'monster'fucker front but I hope it ticks some boxes for y'all regardless; if I missed any warnings please lmk!

Word Count: 2.6k

Read the intro here! | Suggested listening

...Echo. 

A round of wolf-whistles rises from the rest of the table (quite literally, in Hunter’s case). Echo jostles you with his elbow, a good-natured grin gracing his features. Quirking an eyebrow at him, you drink in the sight of him sitting next to you. His perfectly tailored suit hugs his body in all the right places, thighs straining against the fine material; the silken red bowtie at his neck draws your eye appreciatively down the strong column of his throat. His hair has grown back in a fuzzy nest of brown curls that he’s slicked back. In short, he looks positively mouth-watering. That’s exactly what happens as you rake your gaze over him.

“Get a room, you two,” Fives jeers, playfully tossing a balled up napkin at you. 

It bounces harmlessly off your face. You flash him a rude gesture before rising to your feet, offering your hand to Echo.

“Shall we?”

He takes your hand. Against your skin, his satin glove is smooth and warm, the strength of his grip belied by the entrapment. You suppress a shiver as you step away from the table, Echo trailing you, fingers laced through yours. 

As you begin to wind your way through the crowd, you shoot a glance over your shoulder to Echo. He smirks at you, one eyebrow raised as if in question. In the strobing, multicolored lights, he looks near ethereal, a vision stepped straight out of one of those high-end Coruscanti model holos. You bite your lip. 

His smirk deepens. Tugging you back against his chest, he wraps his scomp arm around your middle to hold you against his chest. He carefully presses his cheek to the side of your head, mindful of his headpiece, and inhales your scent.

“Care for a dance, cyare?” he asks.

A delightful, full-body tingle shivers through you at the way his voice rumbles against your ear. “You read my mind.” 

He hums, the sound sending another frisson of exhilaration cascading through all your nerves. Not releasing his hold on you, your hands still entwined where he brings them to rest on your hip, he finds the rhythm of the song, a deep, bassy, sexy beat that vibrates your bones. Gently, giving you enough leeway in case you decide you want to pull away, he guides your hips to the music. 

It’s all the encouragement you need. Circling your hips, you grind your ass against his crotch, earning a low, groaning chuckle. Snaking your hand free up and back, you thread your fingers through his curls. Echo turns his head, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the pulse point just below your jaw.

A gasp escapes you, lost in the consuming bass of the music. He laves at that spot, nipping playfully. 

Emboldened by the shifting, partial lighting and his lips on your neck, you grind against him again as you draw his hand up your chest. A moan tumbles from you as the half-hard definition of his cock presses against you through layers of clothing. His fingers dance over your chest, tweaking a nipple through your shirt.

“Feel what you do to me, pretty thing?” he murmurs, voice sliding like honey over your ears. “Drive me kriffin’ crazy.”

You’ve never realized it before, but stars, you could listen to Echo talk all day. He could read a damn dictionary and you’d be enthralled. Turning your head, you peer up into his eyes, mere pinpricks of shine in the green-tinted lights flashing around you. Dropping your gaze to his lips, your eyelashes flutter. 

“What d’you want, cyare, hm? Tell me,” he urges, eyes fixated on your parted lips.

“I want,” you begin, voice tremulous, “I want to kiss you.” 

“You wanna kiss me?” he repeats, a dangerous smirk curling over his face.

Gulping, you nod. You don’t trust your voice now to not reveal the intensity of the fire scorching through your veins. 

With a contented sigh, Echo tips his head forward and captures your lips in a heated kiss. His scomp tugs you tighter against his chest as he practically ruts his hardness against your ass, When he tugs again at your nipple, you whimper into his mouth. Electricity sparks where he touches you. But he doesn’t relent, kissing you until you’re dizzy with want. Arousal pools hot and tight in your belly.

“Kriff,” you gasp as you pull away from his mouth, “kriff, Echo, stars.” 

He chuckles. His gaze sweeps over the crowd around you—but no one seems to be paying you any mind. “What’s the matter, sweetness?”

“Want you,” you say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

“Want me to what?”

His voice has dropped an octave, positively dripping with sex, and you shudder in his grasp. How can one person’s voice be so alluring, so enticing? 

Rather than using your words, you extricate yourself from his embrace and, crooking one finger with a coy smile, urge him to follow you again. A bemused smile graces his features; he slips his hand into his pocket as he steps after you.

You lead him towards the back hallway you’d caught sight of earlier, down a series of blind turns, and pick a door at random. Within, there’s a simple bed with silk sheets; dozens of candles, strewn on every available surface, cast the room in a cheery, cozy glow. Echo moves past you, surveying the room with a curious expression.

“This works,” you say, shutting the door. 

You take another moment to really, fully appreciate the specimen of a man before you. Echo gives you an indulgent smile. Backlit by the flickering candlelight, he looks divine; the crisp lines of his black suit outline his silhouette in exquisite fashion. Up close, you realize that the fabric isn’t solid black, but rather one shade of black embroidered with another, darker hue. Tracing one of the repeating designs, you reach with tentative fingers to unbutton the matching vest.

Only to gasp in surprise when his hand catches your wrist.

“You never answered my question,” he says. His gaze holds your own, deep and soulful and burning. Have his eyes always been that golden?

“Everything,” you say, the answer falling from your lips without a second thought. “I want you to do everything to me.”

His eyes fall to half-lidded, a sultry twist to his mouth. “Everything, cyare? That’s awfully broad. How am I supposed to pick?” 

Another shiver dances up your spine as goosebumps erupt all over your skin at his voice. Echo’s eyebrows twitch at your physiological response. 

“D’you like the sound of my voice, pretty little thing?” he asks, inflecting the words down, deeper, hotter.

Nodding, a more concrete idea of what you want crystallizes in your mind. “Love your voice, Echo. Can you— can you make me cum just by talking to me?”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, his cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink. “Kriff, yeah, baby. Whatever you want. Want to get off from me telling you everything I want to do to your gorgeous body?”

You whine, pleasurable heat pulsing through your core.

“Alright, baby.” He gestures toward the bed. “Get undressed and get comfy.” 

“What about you?” you ask. You’re already shucking your clothes, but pause when he fixes you with an inscrutable look.

“Oh no,” he says, “you asked for my voice. The suit stays on. Fitting, that you’d ask me to whisper filth to you, when I’m dressed as a siren.”

Inhaling a short breath in surprise, you merely blink at him. He chucks you under your chin with a wink, then glances down at your state of half-undress. Swallowing, you hurry to strip out of the rest of the now-too tight garments and clamber up onto the silky smooth sheets. You prop yourself up with a number of plush pillows. 

“Good,” Echo murmurs. He perches on the edge of the bed, one thick thigh crossed under the other, his hand supporting the way he leans. “Such a good listener.” 

The praise coils through your ears and settles in your lower belly, simmering with an intense, acute heat. You can only nod, at a loss for words.

“Sit on your hands for me, baby,” he instructs. “Can’t have you cheating, now can we?” 

Your chest heaves with anticipation as you shift, sliding your hands beneath your butt to trap them there. Echo’s eyes flicker a brighter gold. For a moment, he lets you sit there, core aching, skin flushed and sweat beginning to dew. At the apex of your thighs, your arousal throbs, demanding to be touched.

“Bet you feel so soft,” he says. The way he murmurs the words makes you think it’s more a thought that slipped out than an intentional statement, but the effect is the same: your nipples pebble as if inviting him to touch. He clears his throat and continues. “Nearly lost my mind out there when you pushed your ass against my dick. Nearly took you right there on the dancefloor.” 

“F-Fuck,” you grit out. His voice caresses your skin, a physical presence. “W-Why didn’t you?”

“Didn’t want to put my vod’e to shame.” He chuckles. “Wanted you all to myself. Wanted to feel how you fall apart, just for me. Is that what you want, cyare? Gonna squirm for me?” 

As if by his request, you push your hips in his direction, silently begging. 

“Thought so,” he says. “Mm. So needy. I’m gonna make you cum just like this, and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk after, how’s that sound, gorgeous?”

“Yes, yes please, just keep talking,” you whine. The aching need in your core grows with each word he speaks, a spell weaving in the air around you, drawing your nerves along for the ride. 

“You felt so good against me out there,” he continues. “Warm and pliant and body fucking begging me to take you. Gonna make you feel so good, cyare. I’m gonna suck my mark into your neck, show everyone who makes you feel this good. Make sure they know whose cock was buried in you. Fuck, I bet you’re tight, bet you need a good fucking to loosen you up. That what you need, baby? Need to be fucked out?” 

You’re writhing at this point, hips jerking as if his words are physically touching you. “Y-Yes, stars, please!”

“Yeah, I know you need that.” 

You have enough awareness to catch movement in his lap—he’s fucking palming himself through his pants, and the sight draws a raw, cracking moan from your chest. His eyes bore into yours for a moment, an intense, glowing gold, and a jolt of pleasure rocks through you. 

“First I’d make you suck me off, get my dick all nice and wet. Your lips will look so good wrapped around me, kark. Don’t worry, I’d put my mouth on you, too. Tease you with my tongue until you’re begging for me to fuck you. 

“And then I’d slip into your tight hole—ngh, kriff—” He shudders, palm stilling over his crotch for a moment. “Make you scream for me, make you moan until your voice gives out. Then I’d make you cum again, all over my cock. Fuck, you’ll look so pretty when I fuck you like that, takin’ everything I give you.” 

Pleasure mounts in your body with every new word. The rough, raw edge to his voice only serves to rake tingling ecstasy over your entire body. In your belly, the knot of desire pulls tighter, tighter, tighter—you’re teetering on the precipice, ready to shatter at any moment. 

A sob wracks through your form. “Echo, please, need to cum!”

“I know, baby, I know you do,” he coos. “You wanna cum? Cum for me, pretty thing. Cum and then I’ll fuck you just like you need me to.” 

“Oh fuck—” Your moan chokes off into a strangled gasp as his command washes over you. All at once, the knotted core of need in your center snaps and unravels. Your back arches off the bed, hands scrabbling at the silk sheets for purchase as you cum, shouting incoherent praise to the room. Wave after wave breaks over you, each one drowning you in fresh pleasure.

Through it all, Echo murmurs sweet praise in your ear, his fingers finding purchase at your heated core. “That’s it, baby. Just like that, you’re doing so well. See? Promised you I’d make you cum, and now I’m gonna fuck you, okay, baby?”

Dimly, you register his words. Nodding, you think you beg for it—or maybe you’re just begging for the orgasm to keep going, for your body to keep convulsing and shuddering. Somewhere in the haze that begins to settle over your mind, you feel Echo’s hand grip your hip, holding your lower body still, and then he’s pushing into you, his cock slick with spit and your release.

You groan simultaneously. Walls fluttering around his thick length, you suck in lungfuls of air to steady yourself, the stretch a little painful but nevertheless immaculate. He’s so big; he’s everywhere, stuffed into your tight heat and filling your vision and caressing your flushed skin. 

“Kark,” he bites out. “Not gonna last long, cyare.” 

“S’okay,” you pant. “Please fuck me.” 

You don’t need to tell him twice. Snapping his hips against you, his balls slap your ass with every thrust, the erotic sound echoing in the small room. Gripping one of your thighs to his chest, he squeezes it as he drives his cock into you mercilessly, his jacket discarded and the rest of his clothes disheveled. All you can do is lie there and take it, keening brokenly. His cock grazes against that one spot deep in your heat that makes stars burst across your vision. Whining, you fist the sheets to ground yourself. 

“W-Where—” 

“Paint me,” you gasp. “Want your cum on me.”

He pulls out immediately, his cock throbbing. Ribbons of hot, white cum splatter over your chest and tummy. Eyes locked together, you have to fight to keep your own open to catch the way that his face twists with bliss as he cums. But he makes it difficult, working his hand over your center to draw out your second orgasm.

You spasm under his touch, weakly pushing his hand away in overstimulation. Core locked up with tight pleasure, it takes you several long moments to drift back down. Heart pounding, chest heaving, you glance up at Echo with a tired grin. 

He chuckles. “Holy kriff.” 

“You can say that again,” you say, huffing a laugh.

His cum has begun to dry on your skin; you glance around for a towel. Echo retrieves his jacket where he must have tossed it on the other end of the bed and gently wipes your skin clean.

“Thanks,” you murmur, too blissed out to care that he’s ruining a perfectly good suit. 

He shrugs out of the other garments then collapses on the bed next to you. Tangling your fingers together, you smile lazily at one another. Distantly, the music of the party reaches you, but you’re in no rush. 

“So,” you murmur. 

“So,” he echoes. His voice has returned to its normal gruff timbre—still incredibly sexy, but no longer magically enhanced. 

You study his eyes for a moment, also returned to their normal state. With a teasing hum, you nudge him. “What happened to all the other things you mentioned? Marking me, going down on me?” 

He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got...impatient.”

You laugh, a genuine, belly laugh that makes him chuckle, too. 

“Maybe...” You trail off, biting your lip. “Maybe we can get dinner sometime, and then we can try those.” 

Humming, he nuzzles your neck. “I’d love that.”

Ragu list: @the-hexfiles @thorsterstrudle @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @dreamie411 @bobaprint @originalcollectionartistry @imarvelatthestars (if you'd like to be added or removed, click here!)

[liesmyth]

How do you decide on focusing on distance vs speed with jogging? I started jogging about 6 months ago and regularly jog a 10k with like a 14min/mile pace. Should I just keep doing that? Should I try to train for a half or do something specific to be faster? 🫂 really appreciate all your tips

HI! first of all, regularly doing 10k is A LOT and you're very cool for it (call me biased but I think running 10k at a slow-ish jog pace is more impressive than a very fast runner doing that same distance bc of how long it takes!)

if your objective is getting faster, and you already have the weekly mileage part down, you might want to transition into a training schedule! most of them follow the format of mixing up 1) "easy runs" (conversational pace / jog) during the week + 2) one "workout" (tempo run or interval run) + 3) a weekend "long run" which is longer than the others. Interval runs along with running volume (weekly mileage) are what really gets you faster in the long run. You don't have to sign up for a specific event, ofc, you can just follow a training schedule for yourself, but if there are some in your area I think it can be fun to have a deadline to train for and a goal to achieve. (Also I love the vibes of local races)

I think a 10k would be a sweet spot for you because it's a distance you run semi-regularly and know you can finish, which takes off a lot of the mental aspect of it IME, and you can give yourself a reasonable goal.

anyway here are some resources — lmk if you have any follow-up questions!!

r/running FAQs. reddit running nerds use a lot of slang and a lot of that stuff in there is majoring in the minors. go straight for the information that interests you and ignore everything else. includes links to popular training plans

bare bones training plan with no specific goal. Based on your jogging pace, aim for 12:10-ish for the "tempo" intervals, and 11:15-ish for the "speed run" intervals. For the long run, keep doing what you're doing finishing 10k; the "workouts" will be considerably shorter in terms of distance. If you run more than 3 times per week, throw in a fourth run in addition to those the comment suggests, at your usual jogging pace, 3 miles tops.

speaking of running plans — I kinda went off on a small rant under the cut that may or may not be useful to you if you're a nerdy type. Otherwise, discard

IF you are of the geeky persuasion, I would recommend picking up ANY "running training" book at your local library (or on the high seas. hit me up!) just to figure out once and for all the various jargon you'll see floating around online. I can't stress enough how many of the training plans out there are just riffs on the same basic principles with slightly different philosophies — once you get it, that's it. There's such a wealth of information in the jock nerdy spaces of the internet, but there's also kind of a big entry barrier because everyone uses slang like "lactate threshold" and "marathon pace" and it's very easy for novices to get lost.

If you're the kind who likes to do their own research, I do recommend picking up a training book. It's great for the slang but also for understanding once and for all the reasoning behind why running plans are structured in a certain way, and how to tweak them to suit your needs + a lot of advice about recovery, nutrition post workouts, how to pick paces etc. and the science behind it. However: I can't stress enough how absolutely optional this is lmao. I guarantee you that most people who run 1) don't need an elaborate program and 2) would never dream of "reading" about it. But, many habitual runners rely on experience and trial and error, or maybe they did sport in school or are part of a running club, or spent a few years fucking around and finding out. Personally, as someone who picked up running knowing nothing about it and not wanting to risk injury, I've found that doing a deep dive into "Why do people recommend X and Y" has really helped me feel like I knew what I was doing. But you don't have to!

^ I hope this wasn't too confusing lol or that it doesn't make you feel like you have to do homework to enjoy moving around. You really don't! But if you want to switch to a more methodical approach and see results, I think it's worth looking into it

[animalcopingnewhorizons]

I've been on Tumblr now for over 1 year. 🎉 I thought it might be time to (re)introduce myself and how I've been handling this account.

My name is Layla. I'm almost 42 years old. ♑☀️♒🌙♓⬆️ I just started a personal Tumblr that you're welcome to follow if you want to learn more about me. @trauma-tits (Named after my weekly newsletter. I write a few other places on the internet too.)

Animal Crossing New Horizons is the only Animal Crossing game I've played. I love it so much that I can't move on to other video games because I'd rather be playing ACNH. I've only had one island called Praxis, but I hope to start a new one very soon! (In full disclosure, I've been saying that for months and life keeps getting in the way.)

I usually have my finger on the pulse of fresh posts, but you'll never know that because I reblog everything to the queue which hovers around 300 at all times. I use reblogging in real time to indicate when things aren't from the queue as opposed to marking everything that is. On Fridays, I hit "shuffle queue" and sometimes tweak the times and number of posts.

I've been sharing screenshots from my island Praxis with acnh praxis, animal crossing, animal crossing new horizons, acnh, acnh screenshots, acnh life, & animal crossing creations, and the vacation homes I've decorated in Happy Home Paradise with happy home paradise, happy home designer, happy home dlc, acnh happy home paradise, and acnh exterior or acnh interior as relevant.

Other tags I use:

ac [villager name] and acnh [villager name] because I couldn't remember which one I started with so to ensure I can go back and find things I do both on each post that highlights a villager to remain consistent.

If there is more than one villager showcased, I usually try to tag each one individually. However, if I am in a hurry or I don't know all the villagers and don't have time to look them up, I will use the general acnh villagers. I try to also use acnh [species name], especially if the post is solely one species.

Anything regarding dialogue (photo edited or organic) I use acnh dialogue or ac dialogue if it isn't New Horizons.

acnh codes, custom codes, and acnh custom design for the codes. This is not my strong suit, so any custom stuff you see in my screenshots someone else created (unless otherwise specified). I do not usually share the codes in each post since they aren't mine, but if you ask for them, I'll share.

For dream address posts I also use the tag i really need to start dreaming again because I haven't done it in awhile.

acnh inspiration is for anything that I see that makes me go, "Wow, I wish I was playing right now because this has INSPIRED me!" I never use this tag on my own posts, only rbs of others. If I rb your post with that, you should take it as the HIGHEST compliment. 😘

If there is crossover content between AC and other fandoms, I use when worlds collide, and sometimes I even share crossovers where I am not familiar with the other one.

I love it when people like, reblog, comment, and use my ask box. I love talking to strangers (because a stranger is just a friend you haven't made yet) and I love answering questions. I really like the animal crossing community, and I love making new friends. 💞

I'm still trying to figure out when I should be writing my commentary in the body of the reblog and when it should be a tag instead. If there are other tags you think I should be using to get posts on your dash, lmk. Oh, and I also love it when people go down my page and like a bunch of posts, so don't hesitate to pop over to this account anytime you have the urge. 💕

Thanks for reading this novel of a post, and I hope you're having a day! 💟

[m1sa-w1sa]

REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN! PLEASE READ BEFORE REQUESTING!

Hai!!! Im really happy that you guys are liking my posts! This is a list of what I will do! My tumblr IS tweaking out so just lmk if i dont get ur request!

•Yandere

•Fluff

•Angst

•Platonic

•Any other ideas you guys have!

What I will NOT! Do

•Smut

•Incest

•writing about physical abuse in depth

•and anything that has anything in this i will NOT do

(I will update this if needed)

FANDOMS THAT I WILL WRITE FOR

•Genshin Impact •Soul Eater •Thats not my neighbor

•Avatar the last air bender

•Avatar (way of water or the original)

•Honkai Star rail

•Danganronpa •Spiderman into the spider-verse •Spiderman Across the spider-verse

•Rrb or Ppg (AGED UP OR PLATONIC)

•Hunger Games

•Ever after high

•South park (AGED UP OR PLATONIC)

•Saw

•Squid Game

[sims3fiend]

Sims 3 Memory Freer

Been kinda busy so I haven't had any sims3 time lately :( but I'm back at it and lookin' at Error 12 again, this time with an ASI file you can use!

Here is a link to the memory "freer", spoilers, it doesn't really free memory. Please read the readme, but basically it just shows a message box/alert when you're getting close to the cap, and has a hotkey (f8) for setting max detail lots to 0 (sometimes helps free memory in a pinch).

To use it you'll either need the smooth patches ASI loader or dxwrapper's (recommended), then just pop it into your Bin directory (make sure LoadPlugins is set to 1 if you're using dxwrapper). I'm also going to update my performance tweaks post to fix some of the now-inaccurate information, but most of the stuff there I still recommend (just not dxvk).

If anyone knows anything that triggers a purge/cleanup lmk! It would fix literally all of this. I've tried traveling to other maps, entering into various editors, changing settings, chanting hymns etc, but nothing seems to work.

Unfortunately nothing I've tried on the memory-freeing front has really panned out, but I still have some avenues that I want to check out. The issue seems to be lot objects not being fully unloaded once the lot is no longer high-detail loaded, which causes memory to balloon over time as more lots are detail loaded.

Here's some things I've tried, in typical rambling fashion, a lot of this will be meaningless to 99% of people:

DXVK…. Nooooooo…. It seems like it does increase overall memory usage. I'm not sure if I've just stuffed a config option up or something, but it seems to have a substantial impact. I'd recommend just sticking with d9 for now, or using dxwrappers 3D9On12 (idk if it actually works tho)

HeapCompact/Clearing working set. Clearing the working set will let you save, however it wont actually remove that memory, you'll just crash instead of getting an Error 12

Obvious memory leaks. Sadly every alloc has a free assigned to it, so there's no easy, obvious memory leaks.

Setting D3DPOOL to DEFAULT, game no like, textures don't display

Manually clearing textures. Kind of worked, but there's no real way to selectively know which textures are safe to unload, because the game often reports things wrong. I might revisit this failing everything else

Deleting cache files/save cleaning. Not a fan, doesn't fix the issue, merely delays it and makes your game look like glitchy garbage in the meantime. If you're going to clean your save, just delete the _objects file in WorldCaches and then mark it as read only. The sims one isn't worth the limbless horrors that await you, and sims load in much faster than objects, which can sit grey'd for minutes (or until you save your game and they all load in at once and crash you)

Various config options and settings. I did find some neat hidden options and some useful settings, but nothing that really has a huge impact. I found ForceHighLODObjects which is what I was looking for in my initial performance tweaks post, which basically cures stutter, at the cost of much higher memory usage. Useless until there's an object free-ing fix, and even then probably a very bad idea on maps like Alpine County.

Anywho, that's it for this post. Remember to always save in the map screen!

[choices-and-voices]

Hii can you please explain the real ending of Arthur in the legend? I've heard from it but never really knew the full story :)

~~~ Updated 01/05/2023 after some further reading on my part, because apparently I’m obsessed with Arthurian legend now 😅 ~~~

Hi Anon! No problem, here’s a summary. Disclaimer that I originally made this post using just the Encyclopaedia Britannica, but I now can’t find the articles I originally referenced & I kept coming across contradictions to them in other articles, so I’ve decided to cross-check everything against CliffNotes & sections of original text. If anyone reads this and finds things that still need correcting, please lmk ☺️.

The legend of King Arthur is set in 5th-6th century Britain, although the details of the time & the geography are more fiction than fact. As with all folklore, it developed over hundreds of years through a mostly oral storytelling tradition, so there’s no one version of it. However, most of our modern adaptations are based on a book called Le Morte d’Arthur (The Death of Arthur), written in the 1400s by an English knight named Sir Thomas Malory. Malory basically compiled as many pre-existing stories about Arthur as he could, and also tweaked them to suit his time period. He was the first person to add a lot of the themes of chivalry and brotherhood that are now considered central to the legend. (As a side-note, Malory also went to great lengths to link the legend to his homeland, which can make his descriptions of geography even more confusing. He frequently mentions England and reports that Arthur became King of England by pulling the sword from the stone, when actually, ‘England’ didn’t exist yet in Arthur’s time. Instead, the island of England/Scotland/Wales was divided into many independent kingdoms, like Camelot and Carmelide, and the only way to collectively refer to them was as ‘Britain’. In this post, I’m going to be mirroring Malory’s language, but it’s worth noting that when he says England, it’s more accurate to say Britain, and when he says that Arthur was the King of England, it’s more accurate to say that Arthur was a King of Camelot who began to unify Britain through his influence & may have been destined to eventually rule it all. In fact, Camelot is usually identified as being in modern-day Wales rather than modern-day England. I know that all of this is tangential, but it confused me a lot during my reading & I wanted to help clarify it for other people, so 😊).

Le Morte d’Arthur sets up Arthur & Guinevere’s relationship very differently to Choices. For a start, they get betrothed earlier in the story, before the Knights of the Round Table are established – in fact, the physical Round Table & the first hundred of its knights are an engagement gift from Guinevere’s father. Secondly, they do know each other a little before they get betrothed – they meet a few months prior, while Arthur is helping defend Carmelide from attack – and although Arthur getting married is a political decision driven by his advisors, his choice of Guinevere as his wife is inarguably a personal decision driven by love. According to Malory, Arthur loved Guinevere from first sight & refused to let Merlin suggest any other brides when the time came, instead sending him to Guinevere’s father to ask him for her hand. We never really learn if Guinevere returns Arthur’s feelings, but honestly, the point is kinda moot – and that’s because, in perhaps the most important difference from Choices, Malory’s Arthur walks into the relationship knowing that Guinevere will betray him. When Merlin suggests choosing another bride, he explicitly warns Arthur that Guinevere will fall in love & cheat with a future Knight of the Round Table named Lancelot, and Arthur puts that aside, marries her anyway, and befriends Lancelot anyway.

I could go on such a long rant here about how complicated Merlin’s characterisation is in Le Morte d’Arthur – even more so than in Choices – and about what the symbolism might be of him making that prophecy & of Arthur ignoring it. But there’s tons more background reading that I’d have to do about that, and it’s also not the point of this post. Suffice to say, I think we’re given enough clues that Arthur ignores the prophecy not because he doesn’t believe it, but because he loves Guinevere and later Lancelot so much that he’d ignore anything just to have them by his side. When the two of them do start their affair, it’s stated that Arthur suspects what’s happening but ‘[won’t] hear of it’ from other people, particularly because of how much he loves & trusts Lancelot. It is left up to the reader whether that means that a) Arthur is deliberately overlooking the affair to protect his wife & friend or b) Arthur is burying his head in the sand about the affair happening – most critical sources go with Option A, but I personally think that both are presented as equally plausible. A similar trend continues throughout the book, with Arthur making several ambiguous decisions that Malory never directly explains, instead leaving us to judge him for ourselves. It’s quite a cool literary technique for a character who lives under public scrutiny, and who has had his story told in so many different ways over the years.

Before I move on, it’s also worth noting that Malory’s Arthur is… not quite as saintly as in Choices, so it’s not inconceivable that he’d struggle to handle the affair gracefully. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still incomparably noble & brave, but he’s also a young man under a lot of pressure who’s prone to dichotomous thinking, bursts of impulsivity, and difficulty telling people ‘no’. He himself has a few affairs between meeting Guinevere and marrying her, including one with a woman whom he doesn’t know is his half-sister with whom he conceives a son, Mordred. Like in Choices, Merlin then prophesies that Mordred will be Arthur’s downfall – more specifically, he prophesies that a boy with Mordred’s birthday will be Arthur’s downfall – but unlike in Choices, Arthur actually endorses Merlin’s horrific plan to prevent that. All baby boys with Mordred’s birthday are exiled to sea in a ship, until Fate, in one of its inevitable twists, sinks the ship and has Mordred wash up on shore. He eventually ends up in Camelot as a Knight of the Round Table, where he plays a big role in everything falling apart.

(And before we move on to that, just one more aside: the half-sister with whom Arthur conceives Mordred is not Morgana, although modern adaptations of the story often conflate the two characters. Her name is Morgause, and she also has four other sons – Arthur’s half-nephews – who are Gawain, Gareth, Agravaine, and Gaheris. I mention them not just because of the nod to Choices, but because they’re also very important in what happens next).

The trouble starts when Lancelot & Guinevere get extremely obvious about their affair, to the point where it becomes common knowledge among the Knights of the Round Table. Most of them ignore it, but there are two – Mordred & Agravaine – who insist on formally bringing it to Arthur’s attention, thus obligating him to deal with it. Arthur initially refuses to do anything unless somebody catches Lancelot & Guinevere ‘in the act’, but Mordred & Agravaine then suggest a plan to achieve that – they ask Arthur to spend a night away from the palace in the hope that Guinevere will invite Lancelot to her chambers, where Mordred & Agravaine will lie in wait for him. And this is the point at which Arthur makes his second ambiguous decision. The facts: Arthur agrees to the plan, and even tells Mordred & Agravaine to take more knights on their stakeout as backup, because Lancelot is more than capable of killing them in a rage. The question: Why would Arthur say that? Is he genuinely still unsure about whether an affair is happening, and eager for his wife & friend to be investigated and captured at any cost? Or is he trying to dissuade Mordred & Agravaine with threats about Lancelot’s wrath, while also making sure that there are witnesses to whatever happens so that nothing gets too out of hand? There are a couple of subtleties in Malory’s writing that might imply Option B – for a start, the conversation about the plan goes back & forth for a while, with Arthur giving three separate warnings about Lancelot before Mordred & Agravaine literally tell him to shut up and let them deal with it. So it’s not hard to read some reluctance in Arthur’s voice, and to consider that maybe he’s grasping at straws trying to stop this disaster he’s been backed into. Secondly, Mordred & Agravaine are explicitly said to be very unsubtle about their plan, to the point where Lancelot’s supporters at the Round Table suspect it and try to warn him. So it’s possible that Arthur is counting on Lancelot & Guinevere recognising and avoiding the trap, meaning that the stakeout will come to nothing and the ‘rumours’ of an affair may actually be put to rest. That said, it’s not like Arthur tries to warn Lancelot or Guinevere himself – sure, he can’t be seen to do that in public, but you’d think that he’d be able to catch Guinevere in private at least. Instead, he goes out hunting, Guinevere summons Lancelot to her chambers, and Lancelot goes, ignoring his supporters’ advice. The two of them are together when Mordred & Agravaine’s 14-knight party starts banging on the door, and everything immediately goes to hell. Lancelot & Guinevere know that they’ll be put to death for treason and agree that Lancelot should escape while he can, so he can return and save Guinevere later. Lancelot does make a show of wanting to resolve things peacefully – he says he’ll voluntarily stand trial in the morning if the knights let him walk away – but by now, everyone is raring for blood. Lancelot ends up killing all the knights except Mordred, who runs off wounded, then escapes Camelot with his supporters in tow. He does offer to take Guinevere with him now that her captors are dead, but interestingly, she turns him down – she actually says that he’s done a lot of harm by killing Arthur’s knights, and she doesn’t want him stealing her as well unless Arthur goes through with her death sentence. This is probably the first sign of doubt that we see from Guinevere, and it’s a cool, subtle hint of what’s to come.

Of course, Arthur does go through with Guinevere’s death sentence, and for once Malory actually explains his reasoning. Arthur has founded his entire reign on principles of honour and equality – on the idea that no one, not even a royal, is above morality or the law. Guinevere has committed treason – has even contributed to the deaths of 13 knights – and the punishment for treason is death, so Guinevere must die. What Malory does leave somewhat ambiguous is Arthur’s actual wishes for Guinevere & Lancelot. The facts: when Arthur first hears what’s happened from Mordred, he mainly expresses grief, both because Lancelot has torn the Round Table apart & because he now has no choice except to put Guinevere to death. He doesn’t express any anger until later, when Gawain tries to convince him to spare Guinevere in case her interactions with Lancelot have been misconstrued. At that point, Arthur says that Lancelot will have a ‘shameful death’ if he ever gets captured, and orders his knights to stand guard at Guinevere’s execution in case Lancelot attempts a rescue – even Gawain, who begs to be excused, and Gareth & Gaheris, who agree to be present but refuse to carry weapons. Now, it is possible that Arthur is doing all of this because he genuinely wants Guinevere & Lancelot dead. But there’s also another popular interpretation that actually, it’s all just for show – Arthur knows that Lancelot is going to rescue Guinevere, and by setting up a public execution with sympathetic guards, he’s maximising their chances of a successful escape while also ensuring he can’t be accused of letting them go. Essentially, he’s giving them a clean break away from Camelot, while also still trying to maintain the laws of the kingdom & his integrity as a king.

Of course, even if that is Arthur’s intention, this story is a tragedy & things can’t go according to plan. This time, the complicating factor is that Lancelot goes on a violent rampage while rescuing Guinevere, killing another 24 knights including the unarmed Gareth & Gaheris. When Arthur hears about this, he’s openly devastated, and I think it’s impossible to argue that he doesn’t have at least some anger for Lancelot from that point on. He does make an attempt to prevent further violence, asking his knights to shield Gawain from his brothers’ deaths so that he doesn’t swear a vow of vengeance, but when Gawain goes ahead with the vow Arthur is quick to offer support. He musters an army from across England and lays siege to Joyous Gard, where Lancelot has hunkered down with Guinevere, his original supporters, and an accumulated army of his own. What follows is an all-out civil war, and Arthur’s emotions are quickly torn from anger & righteousness to heartbreak & regret. There’s one particular scene burnt into my brain where he and Lancelot are duelling one-on-one, Lancelot refuses to kill him despite the fact that it would end the war, and Arthur just breaks down in tears, because he doesn’t want to be fighting anymore. Eventually, the Pope gets involved to bring about peace, and decrees that Lancelot & Guinevere be pardoned, that Guinevere be returned to Arthur, and that Lancelot be exiled to France. This leads to a tragic scene where Lancelot delivers Guinevere to Arthur before leaving England forever, and every single character cries except for one: Gawain. He refuses to retract his vow against Lancelot & insists on pursuing him to France with Arthur and his army, leaving England in the care of Mordred. Mordred, of course, has been out for trouble since the beginning, and this is the point at which he truly goes off the rails. He forges a letter saying that Arthur has died, gets himself officially coronated, tries to claim Guinevere as his wife (she refuses, fleeing to London & barricading herself in its Tower), and drums up discontent about Arthur’s past reign until public opinion is on his side. It helps that he also inherits most of Lancelot’s supporters, although a few of them do follow Lancelot to France.

When news of Mordred’s treason reaches Arthur & Gawain in France, they return to England to fight him. However, Gawain is already badly injured from repeatedly duelling Lancelot, who always refused to land the killing blow. On his deathbed, Gawain writes to Lancelot, granting him forgiveness and begging him to come to Arthur’s aid. And Lancelot does come, as fast as he can, but – he’s destined to arrive too late. On his final night alive, Arthur dreams of Gawain, who tells him that Lancelot will arrive in a month & that Arthur will die if he goes into battle before then. The next morning, Arthur meets Mordred on the battlefield to negotiate a month of ceasefire, but then a snake slithers out onto the field and a knight unthinkingly draws his sword to kill it, breaking the peace. Arthur rides into that battle knowing that he won’t come out alive, and watches in despair as all but one of his knights are also slain. Eventually, he sustains his mortal wound while killing Mordred. His only remaining knight, Sir Bedivere, tries to carry him to safety, but instead Arthur asks him to return Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake & to place Arthur in a boat being rowed by her attendants (including Morgana), who take him to their mystical isle of Avalon. In many versions of the legend, Arthur is said to still lie on Avalon under Morgana’s vigil, being healed from his wounds by a magical slumber from which he will eventually wake up immortal – a ‘once and future’ king. In Le Morte d’Arthur, that rumour does circulate, but Malory is ultimately clear about the fact that Arthur dies on Avalon, and is returned to a forest outside Camelot for a quiet burial. His throne is taken over by a distant half-nephew, his Order of the Round Table dies with its knights, and his dream of unity & honour across England dissolves. Guinevere, filled with grief & guilt, retreats from the world to join a convent, where Lancelot eventually finds her after his return. The two of them still love each other, but Guinevere refuses to renew their relationship, and Lancelot ends up joining a monastery himself as a way of honouring her & showing his remorse. When Guinevere gets sick a few years later, she prophesies that Lancelot will come to perform her funeral & to bury her beside Arthur, and sure enough Lancelot sees her death in a dream & rushes to her side. Six weeks later, he also dies of a broken heart, and is buried at Joyous Gard.

Whenever I revisit Le Morte d’Arthur, I’m always surprised by how subtle & complex a text it is, especially considering how long ago it was written. There are no clear heroes or villains; nobody is blameless in bringing about the tragedy, and yet nobody acts in a way we can’t sympathise with; nobody gets a happy ending at the expense of somebody else. But there is a general idea, reinforced over time by simpler adaptations, that Arthur is the member of the love triangle who suffers most. He loses not just his wife & his friend, but also his kingdom, his dream, and his life. Yes, he makes some questionable decisions along the way, but they’re all made for the sake of other people – he’s torn apart trying to simultaneously protect his loved ones, his country, and his ideals, whereas Lancelot & Guinevere precipitated everything by being publicly affectionate without any regard for the consequences. They also both get at least a chance at a future, while Arthur does not, and I think there’s a public sentiment that it’d be nice to see him end up happy for once. I’m personally really glad that Choices gives us that option, and it seems like some other readers feel the same way. Speaking of which, it’s also nice to see other readers interested in the original legend. Thank you so much for the ask 💕

[letsstaytuned]

There is a knock at Alastor's 'studio' door in the hotel. At first it would have been ordinary enough but when there is no answer it quickly becomes too obnoxious to be any of the residents who currently live there, impatient. Almost childish, ending on the beat of the Dukes of Hazard's car horn tune. The jester-like imp standing outside the door impatiently, tapping his boot and checking his watch like he had anywhere better to be, groaned. "Come on, dude... What are you doing in there? Touching yourself?" Blitzo mumbled. "Some of us have jobs..." Finally. "Um, helloooo! Is a Mister Al Asster here or not? We need to have words--" The lady at the front kept telling him this guy was big shit or something but Blitzo didn't care, his car had put a gigantic dent into the company van and he wasn't just going to bend over and take it. Someone was going to be writing a check for that. (( you said surprise so here's somethin. lmk if more detail/etc, anything needs tweaking. it's been a while. i remembered he can't drive worth a spit so... ))

@moxxietude

Suddenly there was loud crashing, banging and who only knows what else happening inside the studio. It was impossible to tell from the outside what was really going on in there. But then it all stopped as abruptly as it started and the door creaked open, the Radio Demon sticking his head out of the door, careful not to reveal the inside of the studio.

Alastor looked down at the little imp, wondering what he was doing in his hotel. As a native born to Hell he certainly wasn't there for redemption. He looked down at him through lidded eyes.

"Can I help you?" he asked with a flat tone, clearly having no interest in actually 'helping' in any way.

[grosserboyfriend]

redguytober four oo yeah woo yeah

warnings: reader’s gender is never specified/no genitalia mentioned, nipple play, cumming (mostly) untouched, more human red (my bad), he’s called harry here. i love tiddies btw

also if you have any suggestions for human names for him please lmk i HATE the name harry but its the most popular fanon one. i guess i could just use ‘red’ but i like a little variety.

minors dni pls and thank you

there is only one thought running through your head as you gaze down at him and that is one of

he is so pretty.

you doubt he’s ever heard that from anyone before, and the thought makes your heart ache. so you dip your head down, pressing a brief kiss to his lips and whispering against them, “you’re so pretty for me, harry.”

he stiffens, eyes blown with lust and surprise as he struggles to process what you’ve just said. “uhm-”

you giggle, bringing your hand up from where you’ve been stroking his cock through his boxers, working him up. your touch seems to leave an electric trail up his abdomen, and he groans through his teeth as your hand settles right over his heart, feeling it’s rapid beating. he glances up at you, gaze darting away for half a moment before he brings himself to look at you in the eye. “...please.”

“hm?” you know you’re being a tease, and he’ll get you back for this, you know it. but right now, you’re propped up on your arm laying next to him, and you get to watch him fall apart for you. “please, what?”

he grabs your wrist, almost hesitant. “please touch me.” the words come out in his usual monotone, but the way he’s looking at you is nothing short of a puppy begging for scraps.

and who are you to deny that?

you smile indulgently, and he releases your wrist, leaving you free to trail your hand across his chest and ghost over his nipple. he makes a strangled sound, the sensation entirely new- though not unwelcome.

egged on by his reaction, you drag your thumb over his nipple again, applying more pressure this time. your nail just grazes the sensitive skin, and he fucking mewls. the sound is so pretty you just have to kiss him again as you repeat the motion, drinking his sounds as you move to give the same attention to his other nipple.

it goes on like this for a moment longer before you notice how his hips are bucking, seeking friction against nothing but the air and the fabric of his pants. part of you aches to grant him that, but the other part of you - the part that’s the reason you met harry in the first place, the curiosity that’ll kill the cat someday - is transfixed by his reactions to your gentle touches on his chest.

somewhere in the back of your lust-riddled brain, you remember one of the many nights you spent with him. the memory that comes to the forefront of your mind is harry with his mouth on your chest and two fingers inside you, driving you to orgasm not for the first time that night.

you move off of him, and he glances up, looking like he might nearly cry. “where’re you- ah-!”

you sink down, latching your mouth around one of his nipples as your hand remains playing with the other one. you try your best to mimic the movements he had done on you, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud.

above you, harry’s hand tangles in your hair as he chokes on air, hips jolting so violently that you’re nearly knocked off of him. you frown at the interruption, tweaking his nipple between your fingers, and he moans out loud for the first time that night. you can feel him under you, hips stuttering against empty air as you catch his nipple in your teeth for a split second.

“again-” he groans, holding you so close you feel like you might suffocate. “like that, again-”

you repeat the motion, humming against the flesh in your mouth, and red makes a noise between a gasp and a sob. the noise is all too familiar to you, and you back off just enough to murmur, “you can cum when you need to, baby.”

you return to his chest, tongue curling around his nipple at the same time as your hand tweaks the other, and that’s it for him.

harry nearly arches all the way off the bed as he cums, holding you to him and muffling his moans in the top of your head. you can feel a wet spot growing in his slacks as he shoots ropes, and the thought that you did this to him - you have him cumming in his pants like a virgin - makes the heat between your thighs rise.

when he stills, body still shivering with aftershocks, you peek up at him. “good?”

“so good. you’re so good.” he gasps, looking at you with nothing short of adoration.

it’s enough to have you reaching up to kiss him like you’ll die without him.

[danakin-skywalker]

Four Knocks (Sam Kiszka Imagine)

Content Warning: mentions of drugging

Taglist: @flowervanfleet​ @weightofdreams-gvf​ @sierraahhhh​ @theweightofstardust​ @samkiszkabreakmyback​ @prettyintopeerpressure​ @greta-flanveet​ @fosterkidwiththebrokenjaw​ @the-chaotic-cow​ @tlexx​ @screechesincoherently​ @garagebandvanfleet​ @gretavanhoney​ @stardustdanny​ @joshysgf​ @cowboysamkiszka​ @lightmyluv​ @fleetsonfire​ @maykiszka​ @moonlightanthem​ and potentially you, just lmk!

yo when did half my taglist deactivate omg

Anonymous Request: okay i LOVE your angsty fics i wont lie ….. so if ur taking reqs… i was thinking something along the lines of like sam / character are childhood bffs with secret crushes on each other (everyone knows but them sorta situation) and maybe she goes out with someone and it upsets sam but the date goes horrible (maybe its a bad situation idc) and sam has to come to the rescue. idk i trust you … i’d love to read whatever you cook up!

(A/N): Lol guess who’s back! Sorry for taking an unannounced two month writing break, I haven’t been feeling super inspired lately to be quite honest. And I’m maybe about to start a new job so I can’t really say with upmost confidence that I’m “back” all the way, but I woke up to this request in my ask box this morning and coincidentally it aligns with a half-developed idea I’ve been playing around with for the last few weeks. To be fair, several people have posted fics with plots somewhat similar to this one (in which Y/N gets drugged at a bar), but I wanted to tweak the situation so that none of the boys are actually at said bar with her, but instead need to come to her rescue. This just so happens to align perfectly with this prompt so here I am, cranking it out for you. Just like old times (six months ago).

I hope you enjoy!!

also extra thank you to @vetaglanfeet​ and @joshysgf​ for looking this over for me before I posted :) love u both dearly

*********************************

Four Knocks

It was becoming abundantly clear that Sam was not going to be helpful this afternoon.

You had invited your childhood best friend Sam over to help you prepare for a date with Matthew, the guy you’d been casually running into and flirting with for months.

You were over by your closet rifling through clothes while Sam laid flopped over on your bed, paying more attention to an old Guinness World Records book he found on your bookshelf.

“Sam, please, can you at least pretend to care? Which looks better!” You held up two dresses, one pink and floral and the other a more subdued olive green color.

Sam’s eyes flitted up from the book to briefly scan the dresses, before moving up to glare at your own eyes. “Why are you so freaked out about this anyway? You know how to dress yourself, you don’t need my opinion.” He mumbled.

You groaned and threw a hanger at him. “Because I want to look nice, Samuel! I want him to think I’m pretty and maybe consider taking me on more dates! Lord knows nobody else is asking me.”

Sam rolled his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow, his cropped hair falling into his face as he tilted his head at you. You couldn’t help but take a moment to take in his current state. He was wearing a big white crewneck sweatshirt- one you might have suspected he stole from Josh if it hadn’t been so roomy on him. The stark white only served to deepen his dark features as his brown eyes trailed over the two dresses you were holding up.

You’d be lying to yourself if you tried to say you’d never had any feelings for Sam that extended past friendship. Frankly, you’d been pining after him for almost as long as you could remember. Before you even knew what it meant. But Sam never wavered. He was always just… Sam. Never going further than his normal, tirelessly supportive and happy-go-lucky self that he’d always been around you. At some point, you decided to try and accept that he would never feel the same and look outward to new romantic opportunities.

That’s where you stumbled upon Matthew. He was a guy who you’d run into at your favorite bar every so often. He always offered to buy you drinks and when you’d let him, he’d butter you up and ask when you were gonna let him take you out. It was flattering, and it made your heart leap to feel desired. He was pretty good looking too, who were you to turn down such an opportunity?So, last weekend you decided to finally take him up on his offer.

“You’re really getting your panties all in a twist for some guy from a bar who you barely know?”

You were brought back to reality by Sam’s snarky comment, and you felt your brows knitting together at his tone. “Yeah, Sam. I am. Are you alright with that?” You shot back sarcastically, dropping your arms that were holding up the dresses.

Sam watched as you turned back toward the mirror, taking turns holding up each dress against your body. He heaved a sigh and got up, “Go with the green one. It brings out your eyes. I’m gonna head out but good luck tonight.”

His voice was defeated but you were too preoccupied with his first sentence and pre-date jitters to notice. “Thank you! I’ll let you know how it goes!”

From down the hall, Sam opened the door and mumbled to himself, “Please fucking don’t,” mimicking your tone to himself as he left your apartment. 

.

You stumbled your way into the restaurant bathroom, slamming the door shut and fumbling with the lock as your body slid onto the floor. Your head was spinning and the room almost seemed like it was too. You rested your back against the door as you heaved a deep breath, thankful that this wasn’t a multiple-person bathroom with stalls. You took a moment to remember what you came in there for, before looking down at your phone in your hand.

You blinked and suddenly you were calling Sam.

“Y/N?” Sam answered, confusion evident in his tone. “Shouldn’t you be on your date?”

You opened your mouth to speak and were surprised by how much effort it took to string together a sentence. “I aaaam on a date! You know that! Listen, I’m in a bit of a… a bit of a situation here and I thought to myself. Self, this situation calls for Sam. So I called you!”

There was a brief pause before Sam spoke again, a bit more warily this time. “Y/N, you sound fucking wasted. What, have you two been slamming shots?”

You shook your head, forgetting that Sam couldn’t see you. “No but that’s the situation! I just had a glass of red wine! I think he,” You took a break to hiccup, “I think he might’ve put somethin in my drink.”

Immediately you heard shuffling on Sam’s end. “Where are you?” He asked.

You shrugged to yourself, looking around at the bathroom in front of you. “Well right now I’m in the bathroom, because I don’t think he would’ve liked me calling up another dude during our date. That’s, like, rude, ya know?”

You could just barely hear the sound of Sam getting into his car and starting it. “You know what, Y/N, I think that was a good choice but not for the reason you just gave. I think this guy deserves a little rudeness. Do you remember what restaurant he took you to?”

You sat for a second, humming to yourself in thought. “I don’t remember the name. It’s the Italian place a few blocks from the bar I always met him at. He said he lives near here, comes all the time.”

Sam scoffed, “Figures. Look, you stay in that bathroom. I’m on my way over, okay? I’m gonna get there and knock four times so you know it’s me. Don’t open the door for anyone else, you got that?”

You smiled to yourself at the thought of seeing Sam, awareness quickly slipping through your fingers. “Four knocks! Can’t wait to see you! You know, I wish you had asked me on this date instead of him. You wouldn’t have done this to me.”

There was silence for a moment, and you briefly thought Sam had hung up, until you heard a deep sigh from the other line. “No, Y/N, I sure as hell wouldn’t have. Just please try to stay awake until I get there, okay?”

You held your hand up to your head in salute, again forgetting he cannot see you. “Aye aye, captain!”

Sam let out a humorless chuckle before actually hanging up. You let your phone fall to your side and leaned your head back against the door, fighting the drugs in your system that willed your eyes to close.

They did flutter shut for a moment before being startled back open by two loud knocks on the door.

“Y/N? You alright in there? It’s been a little while.” You sat back up a bit straighter at the sound of Matthew’s voice behind the door, reminding you that you weren’t safe yet.

“I’m okay, no worries! Just give me a few minutes.” You called out, trying your best to sound strong and put-together as your consciousness faded by the second.

You sat there, waiting anxiously for Sam for what felt like an hour but was more likely 10 minutes. Your doped-up brain filtered out the restaurant noise behind the door, even when it picked up a bit after a few minutes.

Finally, you were greeted by four clear knocks on your door.

Using more effort than you were expecting, you raised your hand to open the door. Your eyes met Sam’s face for a fleeting moment before they rolled back into your head, sleep finally taking over.

.

The next morning, you woke up tucked into your bed with your dress still on. You turned your head to look at your bedside clock and your head pounded in response. Suddenly, vague details of the night prior started flooding back, doing nothing to ease the dull ache in your head. You were relieved to see that you had made it home and woken up with your clothes intact, but there were large gaps of time you couldn’t remember from your night out.

And that scared the shit out of you.

You managed to muster up enough strength to reach over and check your phone, shocking yourself to see that it’s after noon.

You checked for outward calls and texts from the night before, even the Uber app to try and piece together how you made it home. All you could find was the single outward call to Sam. Maybe he would have answers.

You redialed him and placed the phone up to your ear, only to jump when you heard it ring from your living room. Sam’s here?

There was some shuffling behind your door as you heard the call get declined in your ear, immediately followed by the gentle knocking and opening of your bedroom door.

Four gentle knocks.

You watched as Sam’s timid frame entered your room and sat on the edge of your bed. His eyes were filled with worry and it made you sick to your stomach.

“Sam, what happened last night?”

He sighed and looked down at his hands. “How much do you remember?”

You shook your head, eyes scanning past him to try and piece together your evening. “Well, I remember when I got there. He seemed nice enough, a little forward like usual but nothing too crazy. We were just talking and…” Your brows knit as your memory started to get fuzzy. “I don’t understand, why don’t I remember anything else?”

You turned and looked back at Sam and were taken aback by the heartbroken look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused and first took hold of your hand closest to him, establishing a firm grip before speaking.

“He, um… He laced your drink with date rape drugs. I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t look at you but he was forced to see in his peripheral the way your face fell in realization.

“So that’s why… Oh my God…” Your free hand flew up to cover your mouth as tears pricked at your eyes. You instinctually moved to pull your legs closer to yourself and Sam loosened his grip on your hand to let you move that as well. But you tightened your grip in response, in desperate need of his gentle grounding in this situation.

“But I… How did you… It doesn’t make any sense, Sam. It wasn’t even a bad date!” You were close to hysterics trying to piece together the logic of the situation, and Sam wasn’t willing to let you sit there and drive yourself crazy.

He scooted a bit closer to brush the hair out of your face with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “You locked yourself in the bathroom and called me before you lost consciousness. I was able to find the restaurant and get that piece of shit taken out in a cop car. God, he was waiting for you right outside the bathroom door, too. Luckily, you stayed awake long enough to unlock the door for me. But, fuck it was hard just watching you go limp after that.”

Sam inched closer and you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder, tears now silently streaming down your face and threatening Sam’s eyes as well.

“I carried you out and drove you home. And I just, I couldn’t leave you here. Not like this. I couldn’t let you wake up alone and confused or godforbid you woke up and remembered, I-“

You lifted your head up to meet Sam’s gaze when you noticed his watery voice start rambling. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek and he leaned into the touch. “Thank you, Sam. I don’t… think I could ever thank you enough. I don’t even know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t picked up that phone.” Your words sank in for yourself as you spoke them, and you pulled your hand away from Sam’s to wrap your arms around him and pull him tightly against you.

He gently pulled you into his lap and held you close, sniffling to himself. “You don’t need to thank me for anything. I would do it all again in a heartbeat, I would. I just really hate that you were put in that situation to begin with.” He rested his chin on top of your head that was pressed against his chest.

You had so many thoughts swimming through your head. Possibilities. Newfound fears. About a million questions, but one stood out from the rest. “Why did he do that?” You mumbled, burying your mouth and nose in the fabric of Sam’s sweatshirt and inhaling the comforting warmth.

Sam heaved a deep, shaky breath. “I… I don’t know. He’s a sick, disgusting man who thinks he can take whatever he wants from this world.” His hands started moving against you, one making warm sweeping strokes up and down your back while the other lightly pet your hair. “He should have never even had the opportunity to get near you, I don’t know what I would’ve done if he succeeded. I wanted to kill him when I saw him standing outside that bathroom.”

“Why didn’t you?” Your question was muffled by the fabric you were nuzzled into, but his chest shook with a quick laugh.

“I’d still like to, but I couldn’t. You needed me.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, which made your heart flutter. He’s never done that before.

Sam seemed to notice at the same time, as he froze in place for a moment before quickly darting his head back to where it rested before on top of yours.

You both sat still for a few moments, trying to calm down and sit with what was just spoken. Eventually, Sam murmured, “How do you feel?”

You almost scoffed until you realized he was just checking in on you. “I feel… disgusting. I feel used and taken advantage of and I hate it.” Your arms pulled tighter against Sam to punctuate your last statement.

You could feel Sam shake his head as you spoke, and when you finished he retracted his arms to pull your face out from his chest so you could look at him. “Y/N, you have to understand that none of this happened by any fault of yours. You are no worse a person because of it and you are still every bit as beautiful as you were when I left here yesterday. I know you don’t feel that way right now but I just need you to trust me.”

Your eyes searched his for any semblance of lying and you found none. “You think I’m beautiful, Sam?” You asked, hope dripping from your tone of voice.

Sam’s eyes widened for a split second as he realized what he had just said, but as he saw the affection in your eyes he felt at ease doubling down. “I think you’re very beautiful. The most beautiful. That should’ve been me taking you out on that date.”

Your heart was racing at his words, completely unaware that you had voiced essentially the same sentiments to him the night before during the phone call. “You still can.” You whispered out, a blush spreading across your face.

Sam smiled down at you and placed a long kiss onto your forehead. “You know what? I just might. You deserve a re-do. Except this time, you’ll be treated the way you deserve.”

You beamed up at him and nuzzled your head back into his chest, missing the warmth and safety. Sam’s arms wrapped back around you and the two of you sat together contentedly. Sam’s hands were about to continue rubbing soothing strokes across your back when he stopped them, instead opting to point two of his fingers and tap them lightly against your back.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four times.

You smiled against him in memory, surprising even yourself with your ability to see tenderness in such a painful memory.

And you reached one of your hands up his back to give four clear taps back.