#but she really had her one shining moment here

[1d1195]

Buttercup

~7.8k words

From me: I love a knight in shining armor moment. Grumpy sunshine, black cat and golden retriever kind of vibe. There are definitely some details missing on purpose here. Best of luck. Hope you like it 💕 Sorry for the delay in posting. What a week.

Warnings: dick ex-bf - cheating, emotional trauma, threatening. Angry Harry, neighbor Harry, some mentions of sex, a good bit of angst, and some fluff.

Summary: Harry's new neighbor is fun to prank. She just wants to tend to her garden and enjoy her chocolate in peace.

But it's... comforting to know Harry is right next door.

The boys that lived next door weren’t too loud, weren’t super messy, and they were easy on the eyes.

But that was the furthest she could compliment them.

Well, Louis was really lovely overall. He had a girlfriend that came by frequently (almost daily) and appeared to keep him in check. But there was no one to keep Harry in check. He walked around his yard in his boxers, got the mail in them even, and both greeted his sexual partner(s) then sent her on her way off his property the following morning in nothing but boxers as well.

All with a smug smile in her direction while he wore nothing but underwear and the ink etched on his unbelievably smooth skin.

Stupid hot people.

Regardless of what he was doing, he was always sure to irritate her if she was outside. “Hi Buttercup,” he cooed like they were old friends while she worked in her garden. It was clearly her favorite part of the house. It desperately needed a new coat of paint, and she didn’t care in the slightest. The flowers were more important, and she did a good job. Clearing the flowerbeds happened before all her boxes were officially inside her house.

She thought about the day she arrived.

When she moved in, she took a deep breath, pulled her hair into a ponytail and tugged it through the back of a baseball cap. One by one, she pulled a box out of her car and brought it inside. A storage pod was dropped in the driveway as well and then she began the same process after taking a short break while she looked at what she needed to do first. She leaned against her car and felt anxiety and a serious case of being overwhelmed start to fill her chest. She took deep breaths hoping the sugar she ingested would help ease her worried mind.

“Hey, neighbor!” She turned to the voice where a guy with brown hair and blue eyes smiled brightly at her. “I’m Louis, welcome to our neighborhood. It’s nice to meet you. Need help?”

She shook her head quickly. Almost defensive as she aimed to protect herself. “No, I’m alright, thank you.”

Louis glanced at her storage pod and tilted his head at her curiously. It was a lot to unpack on her own.

Metaphorically and literally.

“You’re sure?” He asked. “My roommate saw you from the window. Thought you were... well, not struggling... But it’s a lot to move for anyone. He’s changing, he’ll be right out to help too,” he explained and rubbed the back of his head. “My girlfriend was on the phone and overheard Harry, and she insisted as well.”

She thought that he was nice. A friendly neighbor if there ever was one. But the wall of anxiety she put up and the nerve she was feigning to keep up was battling something fierce. “Right,” she cleared her throat. She would need an ally. There was no one in this new town for her and Louis seemed nice.

Levi seemed nice too... she thought.

Shaking her head she tried to rid herself of the negative outlook. Louis wasn’t Levi. “That... that’s really nice. Thank you. If you’re sure.”

Louis’ best friend and roommate Harry soon joined them. Introduced himself and she sincerely thought they were just two nice guys who would be decent neighbors.

The second they dropped the first load of her stuff safely inside Harry began his pranks. “Is this box labeled underwear up for grabs?”

There was no box labeled underwear. She knew that. But it still made her cheeks burn with embarrassment even though Louis rolled his eyes as if was used to it. Which she supposed he was. “Christ, Harry,” Louis sighed and pinched between his eyes. “I’m sorry, love. We don’t let him out of the house much.”

She looked at him with an eye roll. He was cute. She would give him that.

Well, hot.

Enticing green eyes, sinewy muscles, and a smile so bright it could put the sun to shame. He knew he was hot. There was no way he didn’t. But she wasn’t going to let him get to her.

“Where are y’moving from?” Harry asked.

“Uh...” she shook her head trying to remember what lie she was supposed to say. But then went with most of the truth. “Just upstate, a few hours away. I got a new job and whatnot.”

“New modeling job?”

“Boo...” Louis droned, grumbling as he moved boxes labeled kitchen into the correct room. “If you’re going to embarrass yourself, you could use better material.”

“This is m’best material, Lou,” he scowled at his friend. Her cheeks were still burning at his shameless flirting.

“I know he’s obnoxious, but he’s harmless,” Louis rolled his eyes.

“Excuse you, Louis. M’not obnoxious.”

“The shit you say,” he shook his head.

“I jus’ think you’re gorgeous,” his eyelashes did all the flirting for him when his words stopped.

But whether Harry was flirting or not, she didn’t want to flirt with her neighbor. Didn’t want to have a boyfriend. Certainly not one with all the charisma he had around her.

Even if he was flirty and charming.

And hot.

There was no denying how hot Harry was.

So she would have to be careful.

*

“Looking good, Buttercup.”

She glared at the tulip bulbs she was planting in front of her door for the spring. She adjusted the planters of mums placed on the porch steps. A variety of gold, orange, brown and red. Perfect for fall and the idyllic picture for a magazine cover. There were pumpkins on the side of the bottom step greeting anyone at her home with the pretty festive colors. A cute scarecrow was staked among fake corn stalks and hay beside the pumpkins.

It was unseasonably warm for November but for the last two months, and even though Harry drove her crazy, she wanted to be outside enjoying the sunshine and fresh air while she could. She had listened to Harry’s flirting with her since the moment she moved in. He was blatant about it. But in the same timeframe, she watched him with women coming and going. Of course, it didn’t bother her one bit who he spent his time with; that was his choice, and he had no obligation to her or the women he took home as long as he wasn’t a complete douchebag to them.

But Harry always seemed to be there. He was there when she got her mail. There when she got home from work. There when she was going to work. It didn’t matter. Didn’t he have to work? “Are businesses too intelligent to hire you?”

“No?” He chuckled phrasing it as a question.

“Just assumed, since you’re never at work.”

He snorted. “Funny.” She continued tending to her flowers. “I work from home.”

Perfect. So he would continue to always be there. Some people had all the luck.

He wasn’t in his boxers for a change. An interesting change of pace. He was in a pair of plain jogging pants and a plain T-shirt, yet he was the one that looked like a model for Nike.

Men had it so easy being attractive. A pair of workout pants and a T-shirt that outlined his pectorals way too tightly was all it took to get her flustered.

He sat beside her and watched her work. “Y’should do our garden, next Buttercup. Looks so nice the way y’put everything together.”

She paused and stared at him. His eyes roamed her little planters and across the weedless yard. He smiled at her as his gaze returned to hers. “You’re making fun of me,” she scowled.

“Kitten,” he pressed a hand over his heart, looking affronted. “I would never make fun of you.”

She looked back at the dirt that was under her nails. She focused on the feeling of it rather than the feeling of dread she felt around Harry. He was so confident in himself and in everything he did. It was annoying. His stupid green eyes and his dumb smile. She couldn’t fall for it again. No matter how sincere he sounded.

“Y’look really pretty in y’garden,” his voice was gentle. Like he was worried she was going to throw something at him. She had considered it. Her trowel seemed like it could do some damage. But she was trying not to be completely ridiculous just because Harry was a pain.

And sickening.

And irritating.

And cute.

Fortunately, she had a list of things to remind herself of that he was a nuisance. Not to mention there were his pranks that made her crazy.

He sprayed her with the hose when she wasn’t looking. Sent mail to her house for porn addiction making the mailman look at her with a smirk before she screamed at Harry (which didn’t help the look the mailman was giving her). At the beginning of October, he put a Halloween mask outside her window to scare her when she woke up so terrifyingly that Louis and Eleanor rushed over in their pajamas. While nothing was irreparable or worth putting her into therapy, the jokes made her mad because Harry always made her mad. He was too good looking and too there all the time.

Instead, she continued weeding and planting. Making the previously bare flower beds green and brown with freshly overturned dirt. It was calming. Being in the garden, the yard. Dirt on her hands and the sun on her back.

“Cat got your tongue, Buttercup?” He joked.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“The more y’ignore me, kitten, jus’ makes me want y’more.”

“I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

“Ugh, will you marry me?”

“You’re so ridiculous, Harry.”

“God, y’drive me wild.”

She continued digging in the dirt. “If you’re going to sit there and be annoying, can you at least be useful and hand me the watering can?”

Harry silently grabbed the can and poured the water into the hole, watching her carefully. “I used t’garden with m’Mum.”

“You didn’t just spawn from the ground climbing out of hell?”

Harry chuckled quietly. “No, m’mum’s a saint,” he said with a smile. The fondness in his voice and reverence for her made her heart skip a beat. He was so annoying but that was undoubtedly beyond sweet. Even if it was Harry saying it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your mother.”

“Y’didn’t. I know what y’meant,” he chuckled. “Mum would like you,” he told her. Which absolutely terrified her because mothers often did. It made things more complicated. Like it had in the past.

“She would like me? I’m an absolute bitch to you, Harry.”

“Hey,” he frowned. “Don’t say that,” the sincerity in his voice continued making her throat catch on any rebuttal she wanted to say in return. The pucker of skin between his eyebrows made her want to reach out and smooth his skin. His frown made her sad too. Before she could push the feeling away, he spoke again. “You’re funny. Stubborn. Adorable. Mum would like that y’keep me grounded,” he complimented.

“Keeping you grounded is the nice way of saying bitchy.”

He sighed, irritation practically rolling off him in waves. That was new. “Seriously, kitten. Knock it off,” he shook his head disappointedly.

She blinked, surprised by the genuine tone. “You’re serious?”

“Jus’ because y’say it ‘bout yourself doesn’t make it better.”

For a whole minute she seriously thought about how easy it would be to fall for Harry. He was handsome, intelligent, kind, and funny. Even if he was obnoxious. Louis and Eleanor kept him around for a reason, right? For God’s sake he wouldn’t let her call herself a bitch. Who did that?! “Um... sorry?”

“Apology not accepted. You’ll have t’go on a date with me. S’the only way t’make it up t’me.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the bulbs she was planting. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Alright fine; I’ll jus’ have t’think of something else,” he sighed, pausing, like he was really thinking about how she could make it up to him.

Then he smeared a clod of cold, wet dirt across her cheek.

She spluttered trying to avoid dirt in her mouth and reached out to smack him. However, he was nearly giggling, practically running back to his house before she could register what really happened and retaliate. “See y’later, Buttercup!” He called.

*

One of Harry’s ongoing pranks involved slipping his phone number into her contacts early on when he met her. It happened shortly after she moved in, and it allowed him to send her memes and inappropriate messages (not the kind of unsolicited messages that only complete dicks sent to women who did not want them) but the ones that he found on the internet. Inappropriate jokes. Innuendos.

But he also texted her when he was heading to the grocery store to see if she needed anything. But in the time that they exchanged messages, she never started the conversations. It was always a Leave me alone Harry. No thank you. Can you stop staring out the window like a creep? If she needed something she asked Louis, which honestly upset him to a degree, but he understood. Harry came on strong when he met her. Not that he would change that, but it wasn’t unreasonable of her to feel standoffish to him.

God, was she beautiful. Harry loved seeing her in the yard. Made it a point to drop everything he was doing and go get a closer look. He was drawn to her. Moth to a flame. The whole bit. She was so funny, even when she was grumpy. He wasn’t joking when he told her that her ignoring him made him want her more.

She was a hard worker and left early in the morning and returned well into dinner time. While the weather was nice, she would sit on her porch and read or work tirelessly on her perfect garden. She was lovely. Harry could see it from afar and he was bummed she didn’t catch on to his shameless flirting the way he had hoped when he first saw her.

One of these days I’d like you to text me instead of Louis when you need something. Louis already has a girlfriend.

From the looks of it you have PLENTY of options for a girlfriend.

Jealous?

Of getting a disease? No. I’m good.

Your green thumb is spreading, Buttercup. It’s not your color.

You can ignore me all you want. Just think about it. It doesn’t have to be a thing. I just want you to know I’m happy to help you if you need it. Not just Louis.

Also, I’m clean in case you ever want to explore that side of things too 😉

Surprisingly, she ignored that message too.

*

Harry felt like he was going through withdrawals from her. He hadn’t even seen her in the yard. Between the rain and their work schedules, it was like he couldn’t get a glimpse of her pretty being tending to the weeds, reading her book, or anything. His joke asking her what she plays with at night that also vibrates went unanswered.

Maybe he should have stopped sending her inappropriate jokes, but the fact she hadn’t blocked him gave him the shred of hope he desperately wanted. Maybe if she had blocked him it would get through his head that she was out of his league, and she wasn’t interested.

I’m heading home to shower, change, and then I’ll come grab you. It was Niall though, and not her reply to his joke.

Harry put cologne on and settled in the living room quietly scrolling through his social media looking at the time stamp from his message, almost a whole day ago. Frowning, he returned to scrolling and waiting for Niall. Not thinking much of anything of merit as he did.

But then that little notification slid from the top of his phone making his heart bounce with excitement.

Harry, are you home?

Is it finally happening?! 😍

There was no response and Harry thought he ruined their moment. Even if he believed her when she said they would never sleep together, he was glad she was talking to him. He was worried his latest prank had gone too far.

Harry’s car was in the garage, and he had almost every light off since he was leaving soon, so it was a fair question since she couldn’t see the back of his house where he was hiding in his room.

I was kidding, Buttercup. I’m home. You could have just come over to ask though.

There was still no response, but he kept his phone in hand waiting and holding his breath. Hoping something would come through from her again.

Pick some flowers from my yard.

Come knock on the door like we’re supposed to be going on a date.

Please.

And hurry.

Please.

What?

...?

Kitten...what’s wrong?

He tried calling her immediately, but it went right to voicemail, like she had turned her phone off after sending her last message.

What the hell. Why aren’t you answering your phone?

This isn’t funny, Buttercup...

You’re making me nervous.

If this was a retaliation prank it went way too far. Way further than putting the mini popping firecrackers under her tires before she left for work. The very one that got her so mad, he thought she was going to call the cops finally. The one that made her ignore him for days on end despite the messages he sent.

But this wasn’t funny. Not even a little. Her safety and security weren’t things Harry liked to joke about because despite everything, he was possessive about her. And frankly, he adored her. Even if she wasn’t his to obsess over nor adore.

But he wasn’t going to ignore her any longer than he had to. He nearly sprinted out the door, swiping randomly at her pretty flowers and feeling horrible that he was pulling her precious plants after all the hard work she put into them. It seemed silly to spend time doing this, but he didn’t want to fuck up what she asked him to do. Not when her messages seemed so worrisome. Not when she didn’t answer. With a fresh bouquet in hand, he hurried to the front door. Fortunately, he was dressed for a night out. Niall would be on his way to pick him up; so, he was, in theory, date ready. But the thought of being with Niall and not home when she needed him terrified him further. Thank God he was home.

Harry had no idea what was on the other side of her door, but it was embarrassingly late in the moment that he realized there was a car in the driveway he hadn’t seen before. At once he realized she never had company. Which only made him even more anxious.

Swallowing, he knocked firmly.

The door flew open within ten seconds of his knock. The relief in her eyes made Harry feel sick. What was she so nervous about? What could make her that nervous, that seeing him made her at ease? She was constantly irritated by his presence. The moment only made him feel worse. “Harry, right on time,” she smiled sweetly. She was a good actress. If she hadn’t texted Harry so urgently, he wouldn’t be looking for signs of trouble, wouldn’t see the relief in her eyes, and he would have no idea that something was wrong.

“Hi kitten, don’t y’look beautiful,” he cooed leaning down to press a kiss to her cheekbone as if he had done it a thousand times before. Gratefully, he had imagined it about a thousand times, so it probably looked as natural as it felt. Plus, she was beautiful. Always. The acting came naturally to him as well. His arm wrapped around her waist in the same movement instinctively. His eyes fell to the man standing a few feet back watching her like a hawk. His gaze was territorial and possessive; Harry didn’t care for that at all. Even if she wasn’t Harry’s, she definitely wasn’t his either.

But Harry was possessive, and he was there because she asked him to be there. Something he got the feeling the other man did not have permission for. He knew he shouldn’t have felt possessive of her, but he would pretend all the same if it meant the worry in her eyes would go away.

He handed her the bouquet he plucked only moments before and threaded their fingers together; another movement that felt like he had done before and not for the very first time that second. “Let’s get a vase,” he suggested and kept his eyes on him. It wasn’t lost on him how easily her fingers fit between his, the way their palms touched, or how her grip tightened ever so slightly when she settled her grip in his. “Hey,” he nodded his head in greeting.

The guy ignored Harry. His eyes glaring at the pretty girl beside him. “You’re seriously telling me you’ve been dating this guy since the moment you moved in?”

Her cheeks burned red, and Harry kissed the top of her head tucking her toward his chest protectively. Harry didn’t care for it at all. If the anxiety in her texts, expressions, and body language wasn’t enough evidence, then the way she leaned further into his chest despite everything and how annoyed she was by him, certainly was. “M’Harry,” his voice was firm. Pointed. “And you are?”

He grunted, shook his head. “The fuck, babe?” He snapped. She didn’t respond, simply glanced up to meet Harry’s gaze. She blinked unsurely at Harry, unable to find her next move. Harry nudged her gently toward the kitchen.

“Do y’have a name or what?” Harry grumbled over his shoulder as he made a show of caressing her while she found a vase. Her hands were shaking slightly as she placed the vase in the sink. Fortunately, Harry saw it immediately and tugged the glass from her grip, pulling her hand back in his. Even if it was impractical and stupid looking while he placed the vase with one hand in her sink to finish what she was doing.

“Levi,” he snapped. “We apparently used to date.”

Harry felt her body deflate. He wondered why. Was it the prospect of dating this asshole? Was it the phrase used to? What happened before he got here?

“Well, Levi, glad we’re on the same page and you’re using the past tense. M’here t’take my girlfriend on a date,” he pressed his body around hers, bracketing her body against the sink. She kept her eyes down, away from Levi’s gaze. Her body felt so warm against his it made him wish this wasn’t for show. Instead, he bent down to kiss the crook of her neck and shoulder hoping she wouldn’t hate him later over it.

He was really into pretending. She squeezed his hands that were wrapped around hers against the edge of counter. Was that a thanks? Was that a sigh he imagined when he kissed her skin? God, she smelled good.

“M’not sure exactly what’s going on here, but m’getting a good sense that she doesn’t want y’here. So maybe s’a good time t’go before I have t’escort y’out of the house.”

He snorted and shook his head. He glared at Harry as he spoke, but her eyes were still cast down toward the sink. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at, babe. You can try and fool me all you want. But I’m not stupid. I’ll come back when your boyfriend isn’t around,” he left the kitchen and slammed her front door shut as he exited. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Begrudgingly, he left her by the sink and went to the front door, peering out the small window right next to the frame. He watched while Levi pulled out of her driveway and down the road. Harry stood and watched, waiting for the sound of his car to completely disappear before he felt he wasn’t coming back any time soon. Harry locked her deadbolt.

“Who was that—” He started as he turned back for the kitchen, but his heart practically broke at the sight of his stubborn, fearless, and utterly pretty neighbor teary eyed and shaken to the core. She left the kitchen near silently it seemed but stopped in the hall right before the entryway of the front door. He didn’t even hear her approach. “Hey,” he cooed coming closer. “Buttercup,” he frowned when she didn’t respond to her nickname. “Hey,” it was like he was approaching a wounded, wild animal. He didn’t want to scare her, but God did he want to protect her. God, did he want to hold her again. “Love, he’s gone. I—” He wanted to reach out for her and pull her into his embrace again, but something about her looked off. The anxiety written all over her face made him nervous and sad.

He zoned in on her hands; they were shaking by her sides worse than the way she held the vase. Her eyes were so fucking sad looking Harry wanted to scream. “Kitten,” he tried again. “Can I...?” He reached for her again. “M’not going to...” all his sentences were half finished as he tried to figure out why the fuck Levi scared her so badly. All he wanted was to comfort her. She was too sweet and pretty to look so terrified. When she never looked scared of anything. “Buttercup,” he murmured again.

She sniffled and swiped at her eyes. “I’m fine,” but her voice was barely audible over the sound of it getting caught around the emotion in her throat.

“Hey, s’okay t’not be okay. M’here,” he promised holding his hands out to her. “Can I touch you?” He asked. She shook her head quickly. It hurt like hell for her to say no. Harry thought he was seriously going to cry. “Okay, okay,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets because he didn’t trust himself not to try and comfort her and the last thing that he ever wanted to do was break her trust and consent. “Baby, you’re breaking my heart,” he pouted and watched as she was starting to shake like she was in the middle of a blizzard without a coat. “Come sit,” he begged. “Please.”

She obeyed and Harry went to her kitchen and found a glass in the cabinet as if this was his own house. He got water from the dispenser on her fridge, and he brought it to her. Her hands were still shaking violently, and her tears were flowing but not a sound other than a quiet sniffle left her. “Here, Buttercup,” he mumbled.

She sniveled and wiped her eyes as she took the cup from him. He avoided brushing her fingers with his and he paced in front of the coffee table. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he caught sight of the time. “Fuck,” he muttered. Pressing the phone to his ear he glanced out the window. “Sorry Niall. Can’t come out,” he ran a hand on the back of his head. She perked up at his words.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“No... I don’t know.... I just need t’be here for her,” he mumbled.

“Harry, you don’t—”

He silenced her with a look while her words died in her throat with another little whimper. Being vulnerable was hard for her. Obviously. Harry wondered if she knew how difficult it was for him to watch her look so upset and scared and not comfort her. If he knew letting go of her in the kitchen meant he wouldn’t get to touch her again, he wouldn’t have let go to start.

He hung up without hearing Niall’s response and he put his phone in his back pocket.

“If you have plans—”

“I don’t,” he interrupted shaking his head quickly. “Jus’ a date with a pretty girl,” he sat across from her on the coffee table making sure that not even his knee bumped against her. His eyes were following her every breath. Every tiny movement and flinch. The nervousness he felt was painful. Waiting for something to make sense. The water in her glass rippled and practically splashed over the side from how hard she was shaking. Harry wanted nothing more than to take it from her grip. But instead, he patiently waited until she sipped it.

“I’m okay,” her voice was nothing more than air. Even if it wasn’t, Harry wouldn’t believe her.

“Baby,” he frowned. “No one sends a message like that if they’re not worried about their safety. I’m worried ‘bout your safety. So don’t pretend t’be okay if you’re not. I’ll stay all night, sitting right here, and stare at you.”

She snorted. “That sounds like watching paint dry.”

He shrugged. “You’re far more interesting and prettier than paint drying.”

She swiped at her eyes again looking at her lap. “He cheated on me.”

“What a fucking moron,” he mumbled and tilted his head at the ceiling. Harry would never understand how the luckiest men in the world treated lovely, beautiful girls like her as if they were nothing. “He wants y’back?”

She shrugged, shook her head, and nodded. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want him back?”

She whimpered and shook her head. Squeezing her eyes shut so tight, he worried she was going to split open her lids. “God, no,” she whispered.

Harry sighed, rubbed his palms on his thighs. “Can y’talk t’me, kitten? M’not leaving unless y’tell me to. Do y’want me t’leave?” It would kill him. Sincerely, truly kill him. But if she didn’t want him there, he would go.

“I can’t,” she was sobbing. It was killing him. It hurt so much not to hold her and comfort her.

“Okay, okay. I’ll... I’ll jus’... go back t’my house... Yeah? If y’need something, jus’...” he rubbed a hand over his face feeling like he was walking on a bed of glass saying the words. “Call, text, throw rocks at m’window,” he stood, mindful to not bump her knee. He smiled weakly at his own joke. It wasn’t returned. He didn’t know what to do or say. He didn’t know how to help the sweet, lovely girl. The smile fell from his lips when she didn’t respond. “Jus’... lock the door behind me, Buttercup, yeah?”

It felt like he was walking toward his death, but he left her living room and waited until he heard her deadbolt lock before he descended her porch steps.

*

She dropped the glass of water Harry gave her in the kitchen after she let Harry leave. It shattered into a million microscopic pieces and the flowers from her garden looked so unbelievably pretty she wished Harry really was taking her on a date.

She covered her mouth around another broken sob. Her eyes felt red and raw, and the pressure of her sinuses and the front of her forehead ached beyond words. She was safe. She was okay. But her chest hurt.

Levi was gone. Harry came to her rescue. After she was mean and grumpy toward him. Trying to protect her heart after it hurt six ways to Sunday because of the man that let himself into her home without permission. Harry didn’t even try to touch her without permission. She could tell he wanted to. Hell, she wanted him to... but everything hurt, and she was just so scared.

Maybe it was too late. But she needed him. Really needed Harry to hold her and comfort her. Her mind ran rampant with thoughts of how lovely it was to be held by him. The kiss on her skin. He was warm and solid. Safe. That’s what she wanted. To feel safe. Her heart ached with want.

Immediately after the thought of his warm solid body around hers, she raced out of the kitchen and unlocked her door. She was ready to fly down the steps of her porch, cross her yard and his hoping he would have the door open before she even arrived.

But Harry was already there; at the bottom of the third and final step of her porch.

He never even left.

Harry stood and turned as soon as he heard the deadbolt open, standing only seconds before she was ready to blow right past him. “Oh, thank God,” he whispered to himself.

Without any more pause, she was in his embrace. Her arms around his neck and she sobbed openly into his shoulder. His hands felt so big and safe on her body, just as she predicted.

He hummed something into her hair. Something like “M’here,” in his gravelly, pretty voice. “I have you,” he soothed. “Oh kitten, m’so sorry,” his voice sounded like he wanted to cry as much as she was. Poor Harry. He didn’t deserve to feel so sad. Not because of her and her messed up life. “C’mon, Buttercup,” he scooped behind her knees and cradled her as he carried her back inside to her sofa, locking the door behind them as he entered.

“Don’t leave me, please,” she begged, sniffling into his shirt.

“Never, baby. Never, ever, ever,” he promised rubbing her back. “Not unless y’ask.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “But I will ask,” she sniffed. “Because I’m too much. I’m sad, scared, broken, and damaged.”

“Y’not any of those things, kitten. Certainly not damaged, Buttercup.”

“But I am,” she whimpered. “You have no idea. He messed me up so bad... and I... I don’t,” she choked. “I pushed you away already.”

It wasn’t much, but the little bit she opened up her heart to him meant the world to him. It was almost as good as holding her. But nothing could replace that feeling now that he had it. He stroked her face with the back of his hand. “I wasn’t far,” he shrugged.

He didn’t even leave her porch. Was he going to stay out there all night? Her heart felt achy, and her eyes were already raw with tears but if they weren’t she would have cried at the thought of her obnoxious neighbor sleeping on the bottom step of her porch in the cold all because she was broken.

“You just wanted to help, and touch and hold me, and I wouldn’t let you—”

“Kitten,” he said sternly. He cupped below her jaw and stared right into her pupils like he was speaking directly to her soul. “Let’s get one thing very clear. I will never touch you without permission. No one has any right t’touch you unless y’ask.”

A sob escaped her throat and then she buried her face against his chest. His body was so broad and warm. She imagined if they were without heat or power, she would still be warm. “But I want you to touch me. All the time. Every second I’m around you,” there was no use denying it. Not when she couldn’t lift her face from his shirt.

Harry sighed with relief. “Well good,” he squeezed her affectionately. “Baby,” he stroked his thumb below her eye. “What happened?”

She shivered and Harry pulled the blanket that was on the back of her sofa over them. Her personality was huge and beautiful. She invaded Harry’s every thought. In the same room, she was in every air particle. Outside in her garden she was every little piece of dirt, petal, stem, root and all. She was larger than life.

It killed him she felt so small in his arms.

“I knew he was cheating, and he didn’t want me to leave,” she sniffed. Harry nodded, his teeth ground together. His jaw tensed. Waiting for her to continue. “He said I was overreacting. Our relationship was stale, and we just needed something to spice things up.”

She turned her face to his shirt and Harry cupped the back of her head, his fingers sliding and massaging his fingertips against the back of her skull. “He’s an idiot, Buttercup. A stupid, idiotic, horrible excuse for a man,” he grumbled.

She swallowed and didn’t say anything for a few moments. Harry holding her felt like medicine was sinking into her skin and directly into her bloodstream. Harry didn’t force her to speak. He didn’t ask questions. He just held her. She was sure he wanted to know more. Wanted to know all the gritty details that resulted in her moving in the middle of the night and finding this house next to his.

But there was only one thing she could think about.

“Why do you call me Buttercup?” She whispered.

Harry didn’t answer for several seconds. His free hand was on the small of her back, pressing gently to get her frame even closer to his. “Can I kiss right here?” He asked ignoring her question. He brushed his thumb along her temple. She nodded and Harry followed the brush of his thumb with his lips.

“That’s nice,” she murmured.

He chuckled. “Jus’ wait ‘til y’get a real kiss,” he promised. “Gonna make y’fall in love with me.”

She didn’t want to tell him she already had because that seemed ridiculous. So ridiculous it made her a little breathless. “That good hmm?” She hummed.

“Never had a complaint.”

“That’s obvious,” she smirked.

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t sleep with all of them.”

“Not my business.”

“But it is... M’a gentleman first, kitten. Mum taught me well. I just like t’make m’date feel good,” he explained. “Doesn’t always include... y’know,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I know I drove y’crazy walking them out in m’boxers.”

“No, you didn’t,” she lied.

He chuckled. “S’okay t’admit it, kitten; don’t know what I would have done if y’had someone over and flaunted a date in jus’ your underwear.”

“You were trying to make me jealous?”

“I didn’t think y’were that stubborn.”

She wasn’t sure if Harry was avoiding her question or trying to distract her, but she still wanted an answer. “Why?” She asked quietly again.

“Why what?”

“Why do you call me buttercup?”

He sighed, kissed her temple again turning her insides warm and mushy. He didn’t speak for a few seconds like he didn’t really want to tell her. “Y’were eating a peanut buttercup,” he mumbled. “When y’moved in. Y’have wrappers all over the floor of y’car. On Halloween, y’didn’t pass out any of them, but I saw them in the grocery bags I carried in for you one time.”

She bit her lip wondering how she didn’t put it together. It was incredible he noticed that. “They’re my favorite,” her voice no more than air once more.

“And you’re mine,” he assured her, cupping the side of her face. “M’not going t’let him hurt you. I’ll break every bone in his body and mine if I have to.”

She blushed. “You don’t have to—”

“Buttercup, m’not joking,” he said cutting off her protest. “Y’don’t have t’be scared because m’never going t’let him get close t’you ever again,” he promised.

“He just said he was going to... wait until you leave, Harry. You can’t promise that.”

“Guess I won’t leave. Or you’ll have t’come home with me.”

“Harry,” she croaked.

“Kitten, m’not messing around with y’safety,” he reminded her. “I can stay here on the couch and y’can stay in your bed. It doesn’t have t’be a thing. M’staying t’keep y’safe. Don’t read into it if y’don’t want to.”

But she wanted to read into it. God, did she want to. Harry dropped everything the moment she texted him from the bathroom in a panic. He was only next door. Didn’t she want to believe all his pranks were his way of flirting? Didn’t she want to believe he liked her more than just annoying her?

She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. He didn’t deserve a mess. He deserved one of the effortlessly beautiful girls that he brought home. The kind that knew how to curl their own hair and where to draw the contour lines when they did their makeup. “You don’t have to stay,” she shook her head.

“Kitten,” he tutted.

“No seriously—”

“You’re deflecting, baby.”

“I’m just—”

“Buttercup,” Harry’s hands felt so warm and perfect against her skin. He brought his other hand to her bare cheek. It looked like he was trying not to cry himself when she met his gaze. “You just told me y’would try t’push me away. I don’t want t’go. But I will. I’ll sleep on your porch if y’want me too,” he offered. “Please,” he whispered quietly. Gently, like he was worried he was going to scare her. “Don’t ask me t’leave you.”

There was a long pause. “Stay,” she murmured into his hand. Because she was too exhausted and scared to tell him to leave. Pressing her lips against his palm, she met his gaze and watched the hope bloom in his eyes with just one little word. “Please... please stay.”

Harry sighed with relief, pulling her tightly toward him and nodding. “Course, Buttercup. Of course.”

*

It had become routine. She arrived home from work, and there was Harry. Sitting on the bottom step of her porch. He waited for her while she gathered her belongings from her car. His smile was so stunning. Like a streetlight on a dark road. Bright, beautiful, and all for her. “Hey Buttercup,” he hummed as she approached. He stood and pulled the bag off her shoulder and carried it for her. It wasn’t even heavy. In the same movement, he pecked her cheek and pressed a hand to her lower back like he had done for the last six weeks since he started seeing her exclusively. Not a single girl with perfectly curled hair had been his driveway. No one with expertly contoured makeup. Harry stopped walking around his yard in his boxers (but now she wished he did it more). As he guided her toward the front door, he continued grinning like an idiot. “Did your day get better after lunch, kitten?”

She nodded, his encouraging text sent at lunchtime was meant to ease the frustration he could sense through her messages. It wasn’t lost on him that as much as he used to enjoy her frustration, he wanted nothing more than to ease it now. “M-hmm,” she smiled at him. “You?”

“Better now that you’re home.”

She rolled her eyes at him because while he stopped pranking her so much, he replaced it with the cheesiest thoughts and lines known to man. But there was no denying how it made her heart flutter. “Did you want to go out to eat?” She asked.

He shrugged, then nodded. “We can if y’want.”

“I don’t really feel like cooking.”

“Me either.”

“Let me change and we’ll go.” Harry was looking at her strangely. The kind of face he made when he pulled pranks on her before he officially swept her off her feet. Maybe she was wrong, and the pranks were coming back.

Maybe there were those mini firecrackers under her toilet seat. “What?”

“Nothing, jus’... think y’look pretty,” his smile was too devilish (and handsome). He knew what he was doing. she shook her head and snorted. But Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink at the compliment. He watched her head to her bedroom. When she stopped in the doorway, his smile bloomed. Her pause to look at her room as if it wasn’t hers made his heart skip a beat. “S’matter, Buttercup?”

“There are like a hundred peanut butter cups on my bed,” she told him. Like he didn’t already know. Orange wrappers lined up in the shape of a heart along her bed spread.

“107, actually,” She turned to look at him. He shrugged. “It would have 110, but I needed a snack.”

She wanted to smile. But her heart was beating fast, her emotions overwhelming her. She bit the inside of her lip. “Why?”

“Y’said y’were having a bad day.”

Her lip felt raw from biting it, behind her eyes prickled with tears. “Oh.”

“S’nice? Yeah?” He wondered and made his way to her, putting his hand on her lower back. He kissed her temple. “Kitten?” She nodded and turned her head toward him, hiding her face against his shoulder and trying to quell the emotion that was threatening to come out of her. “Hey, s’wrong, Buttercup?” He frowned. “Do y’want t’order take away instead?” He rubbed her arm soothingly.

She shook her head, then nodded, followed by a shrug. “I don’t know,” she sniffed.

“Aw, baby, don’t cry,” he hummed. “S’okay,” he reassured her. He didn’t even know why she needed reassurance. “S’jus’ some candy.” She sniffled again and Harry kissed the top of her hair. “M’gonna make sure y’feel good all the time, Buttercup,” he promised.

Her chest felt so overwhelmingly warm and achy in the best way. She nodded against him wishing she could tuck herself further into his strong body where she felt like nothing bad could happen. The change in relationship was a lot to absorb. But it was easy in a lot of ways. Harry was sweeter than she ever imagined he could be. Or maybe she was biased now that she got kisses, and he held her like she was the most precious thing he had ever touched. It killed her in hindsight how standoffish she had been to him. The thought of ignoring him made her feel sick to her stomach.

“I think you really will,” she mumbled into his shirt. He chuckled, kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Harry,” she whispered.

“Y’never have to thank me, kitten,” he shrugged. “Sorry I was so annoying.”

“I suppose it worked,” she sniffed.

He chuckled. “I knew it would.”

“You did not.”

“I did so,” he said petulantly. “Or I hoped it would.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t know why you would want someone so mean.”

“Jus’ makes me want y’more,” he joked and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “M’gonna kiss y’now, kitten,” his way of warning her and asking for permission. It hurt that he felt he had to ask. But Harry was nothing if not thorough and sure in asking for her consent.

“Don’t ever stop,” she sighed dreamily.

He chuckled again and leaned in to follow his promise. “M’pleasure, Buttercup.”

--

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[agarafile]

When the session ends, Gem watches as her snail retreats back to her shell, no longer determined to kill her.

It makes sense, she thinks.

Gem still remembers wanting to kill and hurt, wanting to sink her teeth into the other players' skin and watch them bleed. And even more clearly, she remember the frustation she felt when she failed to do so.

Her snail must feel the same way, and now defaulted to sulking.

God, she is so cute! Gem is going to miss her deadly little face next session.

She kneels down next to her and lets a soft sigh escape.

"Yeah, yeah. I know the feeling, buddy..." she pats her shell "Take your time, let it all out."

Her snail doesn't try to give any response, still bundled up in her shell. Gem rolls her eyes, smiling. So stubborn, who did she even get it from?

Gem leaves her be, knows that sooner or later the snail will give in. The snail may be mad now, but if Gem knows herself, she probably won't stay mad forever.

Probably.

She tends to the wheat while she waits, one knee planted to the ground, until she feels a slimy touch on her ankle.

"Finally getting out of your shell, huh?" Gem looks down and frowns.

Looking at her was not her cute snail, with her orange shell and bright green eyes. Instead, the snail that touched her had light blue beady eyes, a brown shell and seemed to have hair.

" Did Pearl put you up to this?" Gem makes a face, clearly displeased with her visitor "Is she really making her own snail bother me now?"

Pearl's snail only tilted her body in response, eyes lightly hitting eachother from the movement.

Gem hated that she found that endearing.

"Go back to your player. I have enough problems to deal with and I'm not looking foward to add babysitting to the list."

She tried to go back to the wheat, she really did. But Pearl's snail nuzzled onto her leg and bumped her shell against her ankle. Gem looked back to her and the snail's eyes seemed to shine for her.

Sighing, she turned to the snail and sat cross-legged in front of her. Pearl's snail let out a excited sound and hopped into Gem's lap, nuzzling once she settled herself.

" This is a bad idea." Gem says, but lets the snail stay and after a moment, brings her hand to stroke her shell "You're not supposed to be here. Or like me. She betrayed me, you know? You should treat me like that, too."

The snail only anwer is to munch lightly on the side of Gem's thumb where it is resting on her own thigh, not at all aiming to hurt. It is such a dumb, senseless gesture. Gem feels like a dagger was just carved into her back and feels t twist, makes her get misty-eyed.

She stops looking down at Pearl's snail, it's become too much. Instead, she tries to look at her own snail but finds she is nowhere to be found.

Gem can only hope she isn't crawling into Pearl's lap.

[mikimakiboo]

I was wondering if you were doing anything for/with the apple incident. Since it would be like, a clarifying moment for the guys in the tt gang. Like that’s why he’s jumpy and scared all the time. That’s why he was so rude and scared. That’s why he stopped talking to them, he thought they would be aggressive and violent. The servants could think he was cursed by the devil, or a witch or smth. Till it reached a high note, then him and Dream slowly reconciled and reconnect. Then night just starts pouring his soul out with him bc he’s so lonely and scared.

My time to shine and ramblllleeeeeee

Btw since you asked something about my AU just assume I'm in love with you, okay ? I'm your wife now /jk

As you can imagine the answer will contain spoilers regarding Nightmare's backstory SO I'm putting it under the cut :D

So regarding the apple incident, whenever I make AUs including Nightmare he is always corrupted, however the tree of feelings doesn't always fit the narrative, like in Time Travelers AU where Nightmare was born and lives as a noble in the 17th century and not 500 years ago as a guardian

So since there isn't any tree of feelings there isn't any apples either so there technically can't be an apple incident

So that's when the second scenario comes in handy: magic overdose :D

Basically at the age of six Nightmare's magic starts to grow a little too much, he would often choke on a black goop that would form in his soul and go in his throat for him to throw up, and it's a long and painful transformation, I'm talking about years here, from his six years old to his ten years old his magic would slowly overwhelm his soul more and more, come out of the joints, mouth, nose, eyesockets, he would choke and develop quite severe chronic pains until he's eventually covered in goop just like his original corrupted self

One good thing with that scenario is that it allows me to give him a softer personality as he wasn't exactly corrupted, his magic just got messed up, but he's still the same person as his passive self

Now, as Nightmare is living in a very religious time, everyone thought that his messed up magic and black goop was due to some demon possession or that he was cursed by either God, Satan, or any other divine force, and so Nightmare had to go through a lot of exorcisms, lots of different covens but of course none of it worked

He was always insulted and looked down upon as he was seen like a curse by himself: his father died young (when Dream and him were babies), his mother died young too (when they were young adult) and everyone blamed him and his mere existence for it and every other bad thing that happened to other people he ever talked to or looked their way

His own mother, Nim, was part of the people insulting him, by telling him that he was her biggest failure and she should have left him in a coven if only Dream didn't insist so much to keep him

So yeah Nightmare doesn't really think very high of himself and is fully focused on being as good as he can so hopefully people won't see him as a curse anymore

Dream was actually the only one to never turn his back on him, even when they were in different covens/schools (nobles were placed in special schools from 10yo to 18yo, very strict, they had to speak Latin too so that's why Nightmare is fluent) he would always send him letters, so their relationship never got too bad, Nightmare did have a period when he didn't respond to the letters but he never felt resentment or anything toward his twin because he was actually his only friend, so when they were back home together when they got out at 18 they actually became even closer because Dream was really the only one who would listen to him and genuinely love him

So yeah the two brothers are inseparable and rely very much on each other, Nightmare tells everything to Dream and Dream also talks about anything and everything with Nightmare

Now regarding the tt gang, when they learnt about the backstory they did assemble some pieces regarding Nightmare's behavior

Because his obsession with being perfect and not mixing with them, hardly talking to them and keeping his perfect noble image is actually trauma response after years of being talked down and seen as God's mistake, so now he has to appear perfect at all time so he won't have troubles anymore without realizing that this image hurts him too as he bottles up everything he feels and do not act like himself AT ALL

So yeah the backtory do make them understand his behavior better and they do feel very bad for him because obviously it wasn't his fault, he was only a child who should have gone to the doctor to have some magic drained out instead of being exorcized every two days and treated like shit

They'll eventually work through the trauma together

Hope that answers your question :D

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buddie: Two hopes for episode 8x6

I've waited for more than 24 hours to post this because I'm still in utter disbelief after Tuesday night. Yesterday, I hoped I'd wake up from the nightmare and realize it was all a dream but it wasn't and it will continue for who knows how long. I'm trying to find silver linings in the one TV show I consistently watch, therefore I'm finally ready to share the only two hopes I have for 9-1-1's season 8 episode 6.

I won't watch live and the truth is I haven't this season because if it's full of more retcons and other nonsensical BS, I need to be able to fast forward through the scenes I don't want to see. Furthermore, my expectations for 8x6 are below the ground and honestly, after Tuesday's election here in the U.S., I have no idea how TM (showrunner) and the network will react or if they'll even try to course correct.

IYKYK there will be challenges ahead for network TV and it's the MAIN reason why Buddie should have gone CANON last season. Also, I've posted before that hiatues don't do them any favors (seasons 6 and 7 are perfect examples of this and that's why they both ended ridiculously), therefore, I'm only hoping for two things.

Buck needs to end whatever the f~ck he's doing with Tonsillitis because 8x5 clearly showed they aren't compatible. There's no need to drag it out any longer and I for one do NOT want to sit through a déjà vu moment that's reminiscent of BT 1.0 only for this BS to last until 8x18. It was exhausting in season 5 and if TM does it, then it'll be history repeating itself. We're literally 5 episodes in and I'm already tired of this season because of the lack of movement with Eddie’s storyline and all this focus on BT instead of it being focused on Buck and his individual journey. It's not ok and it's really pissing me off. Buck needs to stand up for himself and stop clinging to relationships that aren't working. He already wasn't allowed to breakup with T.K. 1.0 because he wasn’t happy, so can he please finally get off the damn hamster wheel? OS deserves better than this and TM (showrunner) should be ashamed at how poorly he's handled Buck’s arc.

Eddie hasn't had a GOOD episode that's been solely about him in YEARS! And I'm disappointed in the fact that 8x6 was supposed to be his time to shine but once again it appears his scene(s) will be relegated to the last 5 minutes of the episode the same way his PTSD arc was handled in 5x13. Therefore, I hope whatever is going to happen with him shaving his mustache will be emotional and meaningful instead of it being handled in a way that's comical like the show spent the majority of the preseason promoting it. TM already spilled the beans about it which minimized the anticipation of it when he told everyone during an interview that it was going to happen only to not speak of it again for the last few weeks. Furthermore, whatever Eddie has to say about his failed marriage to Shannon, it needs to be the last time so it can be wrapped up tonight because there are only so many times she should be mentioned because she's been dead for 6 years and it's time for her to R.I.P. Now, he SHOULD talk about her when he's ready to have an open and honest conversation with Chris like he should have been allowed to do in 7x1. Also, a mention of how Eddie’s going to fix things with Chris needs to be included too because Eddie’s a great dad and I'm sick and tired of them not letting their father and son relationship move forward. Chris has been in El Paso long enough, therefore Eddie needs to travel there to see him and so that he can read his mother the riot act. RG is a fabulous actor and he deserves better. He already had to put up with that raggedy ass "Vertigo" and doppelgänger storyline BS, so can the audience please see some progress in 8x6? The show needs to turn the page on Eddie’s failed marriage once and for all.

Here's the thing, with the Madney storyline, three emergency calls, Buck's conversations with Maddie and Josh and possibly Bobby, all the BT foolishness, Eddie shaving his mustache and Eddie’s conversation(s) with the priest, it’s unlikely there will be enough time for everything and I'd rather see the stuff that matters and that will move both Buddie's and Madney's arcs forward.

Time is of the essence and there are only two weeks left before the show goes on hiatus for who knows how long. Therefore, waiting to make Buddie CANON could backfire and it’s possible they won't get the chance if they wait until 8B.

Just saying.

I'M TIRED AND I WON'T DEAL WITH ANYONE'S BS COMMENTS ABOUT BT BREAKING UP SO, DON'T REBLOG THIS WITH AN OPPOSING OPINION. IF ANYONE DISAGREES THAT’S FINE BUT THEY SHOULDN'T ATTACH IT TO MY POST. THEY SHOULD DO IT ON THEIR OWN BLOG OR GET BLOCKED LIKE EVERY BT STAN. I'M A PROACTIVE BLOCKER AND I DO IT BASED ON FILTERED TAGS! I'VE ALREADY BLOCKED THE VAST MAJORITY OF THEM BUT EVERY NOW AND THEN ONE WILL FOLLOW ME AND I IMMEDIATELY BLOCK THEM TOO.

[msunitedstatesjames]

I just played the House of the Dead quest in Veilguard, and it might be my favorite quest in the game so far.

Everything about this quest was great.

The mood was perfect and distinct from other questlines. It was spooky, and gothic, and mysterious, and it was emotionally resonant too with Emmrich's obvious distress over the torment of the spirits. The envionment was such a classic haunted house, which some people might find overused, but I love a haunted house tale.

It was also one of the more substantial companion quests so far in the game. I love all the short and sweet quests we've had so far, but this one took over an hour to complete, had a number of challenging combat situations, had romance options if you're interested in romancing Emmrich, had an engaging mystery, and continued to build on the interesting lore behind the Mourn Watch. It also took you back into the Fade proper, a classic of Dragon Age, and I thought there were lots of entertaining and interesting companion comments/banter on top of it all.

If all that wasn't enough, it does what all the best companion quests in rpgs do, which is to get at the nature of what makes this character tick. I think Emmrich really shines every time you take him out, but this quest really helps to flesh his character out. If his compassion wasn't obvious enough by now, his desperation to find and help the trapped spirits makes that clear. I also just love when the worst thing he can manage to say about the "rogue necromancer" is that he'll have some stern words when you find them.

And then there's Hezenkoss. First of all, she immediately sets herself apart as a memorable villain. I can't even seem to remember the names of the gods we're supposed to be fighting, but this chick gets five minutes of screentime and her name is seared into my memory. She's got that classic, supervillain aura that I kind of miss from movies and tv when I was a kid. She has a very distinct look with her mad scientist glasses, her shining eyes, and her bizarrely cringey hand gestures/dance moves. I was grinning ear to ear the moment she came on screen.

On top of that, she's such a great foil to Emmrich. They come from the same background, they were friends, they even have some of the same desires, namely a desire not to join the dead. But while she chose to use the spirits to her advantage, regardless of the consequences, Emmrich has chosen to be kind, and to live with his natural fears, and to be a teacher. Although I have a feeling that will all be tested a little later on.

A little bit of a side note here, but I love what The Veilguard is doing for Necromancers. I've never once cared about Necromancers before. (Well, maybe once.) They are always portrayed as gloomy and sort of dully evil. Between Emmrich's kind and gentle demeanor and Hezenkoss's whackiness, I'm intrigued.

Anyway, all that to say whoever wrote this quest deserves a raise.

[i-wear-sunglasses-inside]

Shoutout to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, who, as a hateful old lady, saw a bunch of strange men twice her size coming to dig up Bag End and immediately began assaulting them with her umbrella. Absolutely iconic. She understood the assignment better than anyone else in the Shire.

[impeccablebackside]

It is in the way she moves that never fails to strike him. The fluidity and grace of a being who may as well be an angel sent down from the loftiest of havens to showcase what real beauty truly looks like. The white fur that is so pure it makes her look like she is perpetually shining in sunlight. The exquisite deep blue eyes that sparkle like precious gems. The hints of pink that adorn her nose and soft lips so elegantly. The way she smiles so sweetly that it could soothe any and all pain in an instant. To him, there is no chance she is anything but the most special heaven-sent gift.

It often felt like his soul had constantly searched to find her in all of his past lives, drawn to the warm light of her aura that shone like the brightest of beacons. He never knew if he had ever been successful, cats very rarely retained any tangible memory of what had preceded, so he always considered that this life must be the most rewarding of all. It had to be. That gift from the Everlasting Cat themselves was somehow his, and he never knew how to properly thank whatever force led him to her. If he could, he would beg for them to let him live the rest of his lives by her side, even if it means that this could be his last one.

Both cats are taking in a beautiful night outside of their shared den. It is situated just off of the main communal clearing in the junkyard, a quaint alcove surrounded by broken down appliances. It was gift of sorts bestowed to Plato once he finished his training, previously left vacant when another Jellicle was chosen to go to the Heaviside Layer.

It did not start out as much, with a few old and dilapidated cushions strewn out for him to sleep, but now it was smartly furnished with a large catbed and other little touches courtesy of Victoria, unbeknownst to her owners. She had made his spot a home rather than another place to rest his head, and on particularly hard or tiring days when his queen was not around, he would collapse into the bed and rub his head in to catch a trace of her scent to calm himself. As a way to thank her, he had worked diligently to clean up the outside area of the den, moving away bits of trash and weeds so that she had a semi-private space to practice her ballet routines in peace. Even a discarded bed rail was made to be a makeshift barre. It was selfless but purposeful, with the figurative renovations affording Plato his own spot to watch her as a devoted audience.

In a quiet moment like this, silently watching Victoria as she danced in the moonlight, Plato is again reminded of how lucky he is. From a rough life of fear having to survive on his own after being abandoned as a young tom, to now being in the midst of gentle tranquility amongst the welcoming community of the junkyard as a respected protector, it was a change that he rarely felt worthy of. Particularly when he saw the white queen at his side. When he had first laid eyes on her, it did not feel real, almost as if he had been reborn right then and there into a better life.

Time seemed to stop when he gazed at her, and he was always thankful for that. Thankful to be able to fill as many fleeting moments as possible with a sense of happiness that he wished for everyone to know. Thankful for how she unintentionally gave him a reason to be appreciative of every single day of his life since they first met.

Perhaps most self-serving though, he was also thankful for just how hot his queen is. The lithe shape of her body, strong but incredibly delicate, has always entranced him in a way he has yet to properly comprehend. Her round ass is something that he could never tire of either. Neither is her tight pussy that he has dreamt of everyday after first fucking her. The way she shows herself off with such a muted beauty when she chose to dance has always made the tom particularly hungry for her, and this evening was no exception. Seeing her flaunt herself in quiet confidence and surety always makes his lust burn wildly. She is in command of the world around her, the center of worthy attention, and he finds that side of her absolutely enthralling.

Not merely satisfied with sitting back and observing Victoria any longer, Plato sneaks up behind her.

"You know, I think you may have under rotated on that last spin Vic," he teases as his paws drape themselves along her shoulders. Standing closely, the tom towers over the white queen, enveloping her as she stands facing toward the side of an oven that acts as a mirror-like backdrop for her barre.

"Oh, is that so? I'd like to see my big lumbering tom do better. What do you think Plato? Do you want to show me how it's done?" she teases back. Victoria brings a paw to meet the one on her left shoulder, gently sliding her smaller fingers to interlock with Plato's as she peers up at him.

The tom brings his arms around her, hugging her smaller frame while humming lowly, "Nah. I don't want to show you up. Besides, I have to keep my body rested for patrol tomorrow." He tightens his hold, pleased with how soft and warm she always is on his fur. They stay cuddled together for a few lengthy seconds, appreciating the other's company. As she quietly sighs, content with being held, Plato lays a couple of kisses against Victoria’s neck. A shiver runs through her body, a reaction at his little advances, and it encourages him onward.

"Actually, you know what? Maybe I could expend a little energy right now. Have I ever told you how beautiful you are when you dance?"

"All the time, but you know I love hearing it. It gives me confidence knowing you are out there cheering me on." The queen smiles to herself, knowingly awaiting more from her tom.

"Not just beautiful Vic," he trails before closing the gap between them, pressing himself against her back, "Really hot too."

The queen lets out a quiet whine as he squeezes her harder, pushing her forward against the wall, effectively pinning her in. Her breathing sharpens and her heart starts to race as she finds herself all the sudden at his mercy.

"Plato, stop it. Someone is going to see or hear us!"

"Then you are just going to have to be quiet. Hmm?"

An arm sweeps across her chest, paw playing with her nipple. Within moments, another is grabbing hard at her ass. Victoria lets out a hushed moan, a confirmation of sorts, as she lets her tom take control.

"Beg for me," he softly growls into her ear. The way he says it is meant to be more playful, but he cannot hide the want coursing through his body. Not waiting for a response, Plato increases his efforts. One paw remains across her chest, now bracing her body against his own as the other paw rubs at her ass and thighs. When his paw starts pushing itself between the inside of her thighs from behind, brushing at the soft fur, Victoria cannot help but whine needlingly in anticipation as she quickly becomes desperate for her lover to pleasure her. The tom is careful with his moves though, slowly moving inward and forward in an almost teasing manner as he steadily moves higher up her legs. With him rubbing close to her center but not meeting it, Victoria heartedly pushes her legs together in an attempt to get some friction to ease the need in her.

“Please Plato, please. I promise I’ll be quiet,” she whispers, unable to focus. He is rarely so forward, and it is turning her on to be the object of his intense desire.

Plato does not have it in him to be cruel to her for long though, and the white queen is rewarded in moments. The tom runs his paw between her thighs again, rubbing against her pussy in heavier passes as she starts to squirm. It is so soft and squishy against his rougher paws, and he immensely enjoys the feeling. He keeps a divine pressure as he continues, delighting in the moans of his white queen.

“Oh god, that’s it. More, more!” Victoria cries, clearly more pent up for all of this than Plato would have thought. It only encourages him more to hear her whimper for him.

Sliding a finger between the lips of her pussy, Plato holds his smaller queen upright as she frantically tries to bend over to allow him better access to fingering her. He denies her for now, even though his mind is screaming for him to just give her whatever she asks for. Yeilding some willpower and relenting a bit, he starts to slip a finger into her wet pussy as she happily whines in relief, but the tom only goes about halfway. Pumping it in and out in small movements, he can feel her tense up as the pleasure builds. Plato pushes a second finger into her warm heat, again only going halfway. His white queen’s pussy is so tight, he cannot go any further in this position, but he is content with feeling her clench around him. The sharper breaths from Victoria are a symphony to his ears, and he quickens his pacing.

“Oh, fuck, please give it to me! Goddamn, I just need it so badly!” she yelps between moans.

“You know, I sort of like when you plead like this. Maybe I should slow down?” he muses as he smiles into her headfur.

“If you slow down Plato, I swear to Bast the only paws that will be touching you for the next month will be your own!” she bites back quickly. “Now, play nice. I know not so deep down you’re holding back.”

With a small laugh under his breath, Plato continues at the same speed, but not for long. Loosening his hold, he brings his arm down from her chest and pries her legs open with a forceful pull on the inside of her thigh as the other arm comes around from behind to rub at her heat again. Sinking his two fingers deep into her pussy now, the tom fills her up. He waits a moment for her to adjust to the stretch before jerking his wrist into a rhythm that makes her squeal in pleasure.

“Fuck, yes. You’re always so good to me when you listen, but please, more!” she cries.

Victoria cannot help but try again to move her hips for better contact, the pleasure becoming more than what she was wishing for, but she is stopped again by her larger tom pinning her in place. As her moans get louder and louder, Plato covers her mouth with his paw, her wetness still coating his fingers.

“Shh now, Vic!”

The tom pulls her head back so she is looking up at him, fucking her still with his other paw. There is an agony in the way her blue eyes beg for more as their gazes meet, and she wordlessly pleads for him to finish her off. He curls his fingers into her pussy, going faster as her back arches into his.

“I got you Vic, I promise,” he says softly before kissing her forehead. “Just hold on now.”

Plato pulls his fingers out and spreads her lips apart, roughly rubbing at her clit with his thumb. The white queen shakes against his body at the new waves of pleasure, but the tom stays with her, following her quivering as he relentlessly stays rubbing and rubbing at her most sensitive spot. Plunging his fingers in again, he fucks her hard, pressing his palm against her pussy and clit. Within a few seconds Victoria is falling apart, her whole body trembling in Plato’s arms. Muffled by her tom’s paw, she screams as much as she can before biting down on his finger to quiet herself. Weakly, she slumps against his body as he languidly stays fingering her down from her orgasm. The white queen’s legs twitch with each push of his fingers, and eventually Plato eases off when his love’s breathing starts to return to normal.

“Oh my goodness, that was fabulous, but uh…,” Victoria trails off between gasps, “Maybe this isn’t really a good spot Plato, don’t you think? I feel so exposed. What if Munk saw us? He would have a conniption knowing we were like this out in the open!” She turns to face Plato, giving him a gentle pat on his shoulder as an informal thank you.

“Oh, whatever,” he waves off. “He’s not innocent, trust me. Would you believe me if I said I once found him crouched down eating out Demeter when he was supposed to be on patrol?”

“Oh wow, really? Did you say anything?”

“Oh Bast, of course not! I would never be able to look him in the eyes if he knew I knew!”

“So, what did you do?”

“Uhhh…. well. Maybe I got something out of it too,” the tom confesses as he starts blushing.

With a playful swat at his chest, Vic giggles up at him as she waves her eyebrows.

“Oh c’mon! It was hot!” he digs in, not sure why he even said anything to begin with.

“I guess you guys see all kinds of stuff while out and about, wouldn’t you? Probably for the better that we make our little retreat then in case of wayward eyes,” she says coyly. “Assuming you aren’t done yet that is?”

With a wink, Plato grabs the smaller queen around her waist with both paws, and tosses her up over his shoulder as she squeals in excitement. “Nah, just getting started,” he jokes as he slaps her ass lightly before bracing her down with an arm. “Now, where were we?”

Victoria kicks her legs gleefully, powerless in such a position. With another ass slap, the white queen giggles uncontrollably, delighted when Plato literally flexes his muscles and makes her feel so light. The tom carries her across the small clearing in front of their den before ducking down through the doorway and out of the public eye. Standing at the entryway, the tom brings his free paw up and grabs her ass hard to a squeak from his love. “Everlasting, do I love… this so much,” he says as he caresses her backside. No matter how many times he gets to see it and play with it, Victoria’s round ass never fails to make him smile. “Oooooh it is so fun to hold! So soft you know.” Plato cups one asscheek, and then the other, slapping them enough so that they jiggle beside his ear over and over again.

Victoria claws at his back as he gets more spirited with his near worship, finding herself yet again at his full mercy and appreciation. Her tom never fails to let her know exactly what he cherishes so much about her, and the praise makes her feel truly special. “Oh ya? I know you love it so, so much, but what about this?” She wiggles her hips, making her ass shake on its own. “Or maybe... this?” Victoria tries as hard as she can to grind her hips into his shoulder, but it ends up being more of an awkward flailing in his arms. “Well, maybe not that then,” she says defeatedly.

“Or, how about this?” Plato interjects. He pulls her thighs apart as best as he can and fingers her once again as she moans, pulling out to lick the taste of her from his fingertips before starting again.

“Oooh yeah. That is better, but what else do you have?”

“I guess we’ll both see together. Hold on now, let me put you down.”

Plato carries her forward to the edge of their shared bed, and places her down softly onto her back. The white queen settles into the bed, and sprawls herself out. Standing above her, Plato is in awe of just how beautiful she is, staring intently at her whole physique like she is the greatest of artworks. For all he has seen, she is. Everlasting do those strong legs always look so great. The tom crouches down slightly and grabs a hold of her ankles. “Vic, do you want know what else I love? These.” He starts massaging her gently, slowly from her feet, up her legs like it is an act of dutiful reverence to her. At a point, Plato pulls her closer to him, raising her legs up so that he can massage at her thighs while they rest against his pelvis. When his big paws wrap around them, Victoria cannot help but whimper a bit as she gets more aroused.

“You know, I have always wanted to try something.” Without elaborating, he spits in his paw and jerks his cock to get it wet and hard. Pressing her legs together, he grunts as he thrusts between her soft thighs, essentially fucking them.

“Fuck, your fur feels so good. This is actually amazing.” He goes faster, huffing with each push of his hips as his cock pokes out from between her thighs with each thrust.

The look of enjoyment on his face tells Victoria that he is being genuine, but she is admittedly caught off-guard by this. Having every inch of her lusted after so unabashedly is never taken for granted though, and she has something in mind for him too.

Interrupting him after only a minute or so, she coos, “My love?”. The tom stops in an instant, listening intently as he gazes into her eyes. “That looks fun and all, but would you mind if I tried something instead? Something we both can join in on?”

“Oh god, absolutely. Whatever you want.” Plato’s heart beats in his chest. Neither of them are terribly adventurous, with new things coming very infrequently, so his love offering more is like a gift from the divine.

She brings her fluffy tail to brush along Plato's thighs before wrapping and unwrapping her tail gently around his length as it gets starts getting hard, giggling at the tense faces he is making.

"I cannot tell if you are enjoying this of hating it Plato! What's with the looks?"

"Ugh, its feels good Vic do not get me wrong, but you know how much I hate being tickled! I am just trying to keep it together!"

"Oh yup, whoops. Didn't think of that."

With a little grin, she lets her tail drop down before sliding herself back on the bed, just until her back paws reach the edge. Victoria lifts her right leg up and runs a toe down from Plato's chest, along his abdomen and pelvis with a light touch until she reaches his cock. She brushes a toe along its flaccid length, which gets another aroused jolt. Popping up to meet her back paw, she gives another run along the length of his cock, before bringing her paws together to sandwich it, playfully flopping his dick around while it is still mostly soft.

"How's that? Hmm?"

"Oh Everlasting Vic. Do you know how long I've been hoping for this? I don’t have a thing for paws, but damn those pads are so fleshy and soft! Show me what you got, please!"

Rolling it between her feet and giving it a few small tugs, the white queen gets Plato's cock hard before properly starting up her efforts. The feeling of her paws pumping up and down like that is a bit unusual for him, but there is a pleasant roughness and looseness to it. She switches up her method, alternating rubbing each foot along the side of his shaft while the other holds it in place. When desperate moans escape her tom's mouth as the pleasure builds, Victoria brings a foot to the head of his cock, grasping at it with her pink paw pads. Jerking his hips into her touch, the way she moves her toes and the pressure from them is revelatory. Sliding her foot along the top in little circles, he is at her mercy.

"Oh god that feels so fuckin' good. Those paws aren't just for dancing, and damn you are surprisingly good at this." The tom is astonished at her technique, enjoying every little move she makes.

Victoria works to edge her partner, never quite bringing him to his release. The way he shifts and gasps under her control is too fun and cute for her to end so soon, so she backs off and slows down when she thinks he is close, giggling at his desperation. However, the excitement of all of this is getting to her, and with a free paw, Victoria dips down to her pussy and starts rubbing the outside in tight circles. Within moments, she is even more wet, and starts fucking herself with her fingers while keeping rhythm with her feet. Little moans and lidded eyes carry her through each rush of pleasure, and the pacing increases as she gets lost in the pleasure rippling through her body.

"Oh fuck, why don't you beg for me Plato? You know, I really need to feel you inside me soon," she cries, clearly needy for more. "That cock is mine and I just want it so bad."

Almost like a race between her legs and arms, something is going to reach an ending point in all of this. Victoria's words bounce through Plato's empty head, and his resolve wanes as he chases the bliss of his queen's soft paws, fucking into her feet while Victoria still jerks him. Another toe grab around the tip is what breaks the tom, and he shoots off in large bursts, cumming into the air, all over her paws and ankles, and onto her chest with a groan as she watches on.

"Oh wow, someone liked that a lot."

"Fucking hell. Is there any part of you that is not perfect Vic?" He looks at her with an adoration unmatched by anyone. "Seriously? Goddamn. You can ruin me with either set of paws like its nothing!"

"Oh well, you talk too sweetly my love. Why don't you show me what other parts of me are perfect?" she says, spreading her pussy open with her fingers as a way to tease him.

Even though he just came, Plato is hard again at the greatest temptation he knows.

Not needing an answer, Victoria stops what she is doing and grabs her legs, pulling them up underneath her knees. She gleefully kicks her feet, admiring the cum covering her paws and ankles. With impressive flexibility, she brings her left leg up and begins to lick the cum off, eyeing Plato the entire time as she cleans herself. Moments later, she does the same with her other leg, pausing for a second to show off her tight pink pussy and asshole.

"You know, I have a dance routine that I want to practice later," she muses, trailing off in sultry manner as she rubs her paws over her ankles while maintaining eye contact. Without delay, the white queen pulls her legs up by the ankles, raising them up by her ears as she bends herself in half, "Why don't you help me stretch beforehand?"

"I-I'd love to," the tom stutters, licking his lips without realizing it. The way her pussy is on such a breathtaking display in this position weakens him.

"Well then, what do you think about this to start?" Victoria spreads her legs widely apart into a horizontal splits, completely opening herself up to his hungry gaze. Even with her legs extended out fully, her pussy is so tight that it only opens up the slightest bit at the stretch.

The tom drops to his knees and cradles her hips under his arms, pulling her body towards him. He gently kisses and licks at the outside of her wet heat, trying his best to hold himself back from diving in face first. The taste from Victoria’s pussy, even just a hint of it, makes Plato’s mind go wild. He loves taking his time to enjoy being between her legs, and he takes full advantage of every second she gives him. Each light touch causes Victoria to shiver and gasp in burning anticipation, and when Plato pushes his tongue into her, she is already moaning and shaking at the glorious pleasure rippling through her. The tom follows her through every jerk of her hips as he slowly edges her forward, bathing in the sounds of his love. Unable to contain his enthusiasm much longer, he lingers on her clit until Victoria’s whole body is trembling.

“Oh my Bast, hggh Plato that feels so good,” she whines sweetly.

Grabbing Plato by his head, dually holding on for dear life and also shoving his face even more into her pink heat, Victoria claws frantically as the pleasure builds, wordlessly begging for him to continue on, to lick more, for him to just stay in that spot and set her free. Licking and licking in a steady rhythm of long strokes and short wiggles on her clit, quickly the white queen is left squealing breathlessly as her thighs press hard against Plato's ears and her pussy pulses around his lips and tongue.

“Fuuuucck!”

Her body slumps back, relaxing as the tom ends his efforts just as he starts them, by giving her now starkly more reddish-pink pussy a final delicate kiss to finish it off and getting a final hint of her on his lips to savour and dream about for hours to come.

“Vic, I know I always say this, but I love you,” he tapers off as he licks his lips, “And I love how you taste. So good!” He stands himself up, staring down at her once again. “I can never get enough of it, but uhh, since we’re trying new things today, would you mind if I…?” His look is now meekly wide-eyed, clearly embarrassed about what he is thinking. Plato’s paws start rubbing on the outside of her thighs pensively, getting lost in the soft fur.

“Just spit it out Plato. C’mon what are you so coy about?”

“Well…” The tom grabs her sides firmly, carefully rolling the queen onto her stomach. “I was thinking of something, but it is more for me than for you to be honest.”

With a giggle, Victoria peers back at him and gives him a wink. “Whatever you want Plato, no need to be shy.” She flicks her tail side to side, curiously excited.

A quiet thud tells her that her tom is on his knees once again. When strong paws push her legs open again and a familiar nose brushes against her thighs, the white queen is confused, but is now pretty sure she knows what Plato is too nervous to ask for. His rough tongue licking at her pussy again jolts her out of her thoughts, and she quietly moans in anticipation. Plato’s large paws knead both cheeks of her tight round ass, almost covering them fully. With happy squeezes, he pulls her ass apart, admiring the sight for a moment. The pause feels long, at least to Victoria, but a sudden and heavy lick against her asshole following some licks to her pussy catches her off-guard and causes her to yelp out loudly.

“Plato! What are you doing back there?”

She does not get an answer beyond a muffled growl as Plato, still nervous, silently pleads for her approval. Without any further complaints for his lover, he plants a kiss on each of her asscheeks before kissing her asshole gingerly, much like he does when he eats her out. Another testing lick gets a squeak out of Victoria, and Plato starts to settle into his rhythm as both of their bodies relax into it. Worshipping her with his moves, the tom caresses her backside as he rubs his face into her ass and pussy, clearly enjoying every moment. The wet and warm sensations against such a sensitive spot is admittedly a bit uncomfortable for the white queen, but she cannot bring herself to stop her man from giving her asshole special attention. Even without seeing his face, she can easily sense the desire and enthusiasm he has for finally rimming her like this.

“Oof. You are really enjoying this, aren’t you?” she groans after a particularly harder lick.

“You have no idea Vic,” he says slowly. “I truly cannot explain it in a way you’d understand. I just love your pussy and butt so much I feel like I need to, I don’t know, pray to them right now or something.” The tom continues on, running the tip of his tongue against her asshole again.

The long strokes between her pussy and ass are a mixed dose of pleasure for the queen, but her tom wants to give her something to enjoy after being so welcoming to his exploits up to this point. Pushing two fingers into her wet heat, he fingers her again while licking at her tight asshole. Victoria claws into their bed, the paired sensations creeping up suddenly and strongly as they crash through her much harder than she was anticipating. One its own, his rimming was simply tolerable, but with his fingering, it is a totally different sense of pleasure that she has never felt before.

“Plato, please. I seriously need you to stop. You’re going to make me cum again!”

The tom stops immediately, and cannot help but grin. “I thought you weren’t going to like it Vic. Everlasting, that was pretty damn fun. You do taste good – all of you,” he says will a playful spank of her ass.

“Well, you know what, I kind of feel like I need to revere a part of you too,” she teases as she turns herself around on the bed, now facing toward him as he remains on his knees. Victoria runs a paw across his neck to the back of his head, pulling him into a number of kisses peppered all over his face. She pats a spot on the bed, “Sit down, please, for me?”

Without delay, Plato happily jumps onto the bed beside her, excited as always for her taking control. Victoria slinks her body in front of him, sliding herself between his strong legs. Her eyes are intensely trained on his, and the world around him seems to fade away, with only his love in view. For all he cares, he would live the rest of his life like this, dedicated only to her existence. His focus is broken slightly when the white queen smiles so kindly back at him, and he becomes aware of how much his heart is racing at what she has in store for him.

“You know, you look so big and powerful sitting like that. At least compared to me.” Victoria runs her paw softly against his thigh without breaking her eye contact, “So strong too.” The queen unsheathes her claws, digging them into his fur and lightly onto the skin of his thigh as she drags them slowly up his leg. “I know you would do anything to protect the people you love.”

“Well, I’m no hero Vic. Just doing what I can. You know -”

“I think its hot Plato,” she cuts in, clearly going somewhere with her thought.

The white queen creeps even more forward, her head now resting on his lap. She continues staring right through him, and it makes his fur stand on edge. “How you could easily fight off anyone or throw them around,” she emphasizes the last part with a gasp, and Plato can now feel her breath against his cock. He struggles to stay composed, loving every moment she teases him. She rubs both of her paws into the flesh of his thighs, grabbing them, “How you can flex these muscles like its nothing.” She moans a bit, possibly giving away how much her praise is not just from general appreciation, but from her own lust as well.

“Do you know what my favourite part is though?”

Plato cannot manage much aside from a choked, “W-what?”

“That your all mine,” Victoria whispers with a sultry rasp to her voice. She grabs his cock firmly in her paw to steady it, breaking her eye contact for a moment as she starts nuzzling the soft fur of her face against his length. “All mine.”

Winking up at her tom, the white queen opens her mouth and swallows him down with a quick move. Plato jerks his hips into her face, clawing himself into the bed in reaction. No matter how many times, the divine feel of her warm mouth and throat still takes him by surprise, and he cannot help but moan at how good it feels as he throws his head back in pleasure.

“Oh good god Vic, how do I deserve you?”

He looks down at his love, and she is still peering up at him with her intense stare. She pushes and pulls her head back, sucking his cock with a tenderness and love that is unmatched, all the while staying locked in on his eyes. It seems like she is worshipping him right now with her moves, something Plato is not used to. The tom is used to being the one smitten, endlessly trying to make her feel like she is the most important being on the face of the Earth. The intimacy of the blowjob, with them so focused on the other, feels like a spiritual experience more than it feels like sex. When Victoria gives him another small wink, Plato gulps hard in anticipation. The queen licks all over his cock before holding the head of it in her mouth with pursed lips, her whiskers bending along with her efforts.

“Holy fuck are you beautiful, Vic. I can’t put it into words.”

The white queen runs her rough tongue along the bottom of his cock, rubbing against the sensitive spot below it's tip. Plato instinctively grabs a hold of her head with one paw as the pleasure crashes through his body with jolts, with his love still staring intently up at him. “Shit that feels good!”

Humming in satisfaction at her efforts, Victoria presses firmer with her tongue, but is quickly stopped by her tom. “Vic, please. I cannot believe I am saying this, but stop. You’re going to make me cum again, and I don’t know if I have it in me for more after that.” Smiling as much as she can with her mouth full, she purrs against his girth, the vibrations a whole new sensation that Plato wishes her could explore more, but as asked, she pulls her head back, giving his cock a messy kiss as it leaves her lips. She climbs up on her knees, pressing her body against his chest.

“I guess we should really get to some of that stretching you offered to help me out with a little while ago, hmm?” Victoria smiles so big her fangs glint in the fading light of their den. “What do you think?”

“I don’t think I could stand waiting any longer to be honest,” Plato says, running a paw through the soft fur behind her left ear.

“Well then,” she giggles as she drops down from atop his lap and spreads herself onto the bed, laying on her side as she supports her head with one arm. “How do you want me first?” she asks, beckoning with her free paw for him to come closer.

“Lay down on your belly again. I’m not done with that nice ass of yours quite yet. I have one more thing to try, I promise.”

“Alright then, but keep that tongue to yourself this time, okay? If you lick my ass again, it is going to sparkle when I walk around!” The queen laughs off the last sentence as she settles face down into the bed, tail swishing in the air above her.

“Yeah yeah, but what a sight that would be though.”

Plato crawls up behind Victoria before raising himself onto his knees. His paws are swift to massage at his love’s backside again, still delighting in just how soft it is and how it jiggles around in such a mesmerizing way when he plays with it. The tom bends down and gives each cheek a light kiss once again before grabbing them firmly in his paws. Letting go with his right paw, he begins jerking his cock, quickly getting hard at the sight and feel of his white queen’s perfect behind. He returns his paw to the same half of her ass as before, and gently pulls her cheeks apart with both paws. The tom lines his hips up, and with as much care as he can, he thrusts his cock between her asscheeks, effectively sandwiching his length inside of them.

Plato fucks back and forth, huffing at the sensation. “Well damn Vic, what a surprise this is just a good as your thighs, but I think it may be even...,” he trails off before smacking her ass as she squeaks, “Hmm, oh yeah, even better!”

He quickens his thrusting, getting carried away at how much he is enjoying the soft cushion of her ass around his girth. “Fuck, I love it. I love it so much.” The tom growls as he picks her hips up and fucks her cheeks more and more, all while Victoria is near helpless as she goes along with it.

“Plato, enough with the personal fun! Now just do it, fuck me like you mean it. Show me what my strong tom is capable of!”

“Oh Everlasting, with pleasure Vic. You don’t need to ask me again I swear. You better hold on to your collar!”

Plato pries the queen’s legs open into a wide splits again before rubbing at her pink pussy. Victoria pushes her hips back into his touch as she moans desperately, needy for him to finally fill her up after all of this foreplay.

It comes in a most divine way for both the tom and the queen. Plato fucks into her wet heat to a loud mewl of approval from his love, taking his length as she gasps in utter pleasure. Victoria whines with each stroke, clenching around him as he fucks hard into her, chasing the pleasure. It is always worth the wait for either of them, Plato getting to experience her tight pussy that always takes his cock perfectly, and Victoria getting stretched and filled just so in a way that she cannot properly fathom. The pleasure when they meet is unrivaled, and the intense passion makes them truly feel alive. The tom increases his pacing to fully enjoy it, grabbing hold of the flexible queen’s left leg and bending it forward over her back, lifting her hips up slightly as he deepens his penetration. The tom fucks her with almost everything he has in this position, throwing his whole weight into driving his cock into her tight pussy.

All Victoria can do is squeal in response, breathless already from how good it feels. “Oh Bast. Fuck. More Plato! More!”

“Fuck you feel amazing. Ugh goddamn. Hold on for a sec.”

Plato eases off of her leg, letting it fall to the bed. He brings an arm around the queen and pulls her onto all fours so he can take her doggystyle, fucking hard into her again and again. The sensation and pleasure building in him never fails to make the tom feel like he is the luckiest cat around.

“More, please! For the love of Bast, fuck me like you mean it!”

The tom, in his lust, wraps his large paws around her lithe waist and lifts her body up clear off of the bed, slamming himself into her in any means to give her what she is begging for. Her paws and legs dangle wildly beneath her as she is made a ragdoll in his grasp with each frantic thrust.

“Oh shit, that’s it. Harder!”

Plato fucks her with a power he rarely shows, pushing his hips into her while also pulling her body towards his as he fucks her relentlessly from behind. Each thrust is made with as much of his length he can muster, almost pulling out each time before he slams back into her tight pussy again. It is all becoming too much for the queen, and with a few more hard thrusts, her smaller body convulses in his hands, momentarily fucked out as a massive orgasm tears through her.

“Holy fuuucck Plato. Aaah, fuck!”

The tom pulls out of her clenching pussy, lowering her down back onto the bed with the utmost care and letting her limp body sink into the bed as she recovers with sharp breaths.

“Damn that was good Vic, but I really think we need to work more on some stretching. Please?”

“Oh no, look who’s begging for it now,” she teases, waving her backside in the air. “Listen, give me a few minutes. I’m still coming down from all that. I think I caught a glimpse of a former life for a sec back there.”

“Fine, fine. I just want you so bad. I can’t stand it. I need to hear you scream.”

“C’mon take it slow! We have lots of time. I promise.”

Victoria pats the bed alongside her once again, inviting her love to join her. He dutifully follows her lead, laying down beside his queen to face her. He instinctively wraps his arms around her in a warm embrace, keen to never let her go. They stay cuddled for some time, sharing warmth between them.

“Hmm, I guess this is nice enough. I’ll never get tired of holding you. So soft and cozy, its nice.” He kisses the top of her forehead, tightening his hold on her smaller body as he sighs.

“I know I’ve said this a hundred times, but you’re not too bad either. Like a big blanket draped over me that makes me feel so at peace.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Of course. And maybe that blanket likes my ass a bit more than anymore else, but that’s just the way it is y’know. I would gladly be in bed all the time with a nice, warm, big thing like that.”

Victoria claws a path down Plato’s chest and abdomen, firmly grabbing hold of his cock. The look in her eyes is fiery, and she cannot hide the grin on her face as she watches her tom wriggle as she takes control again. She leans in and whispers in his ear, “Do you think you can you help me with something?”

“Whatever you’d like, just say the word.” The tom is nodding as he begs, eyes wide for her request.

The white queen raises her left leg up, extending it all the way up by her head and touching her shin against her ear. In that position, she opens herself up, on full display for her tom. She playfully claws down her leg to ensure Plato gets the full picture, kicking it in little waves as she moves to her thigh. “Well, I think I need someone nice and tall to help me get the full stretch into my legs. You look like the perfect person.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, yes absolutely. Why don’t you stand up and we can get started?”

“Well then, anything to help.”

The tom jumps up off of the bed, standing as tall as he can while he waits from his love to make her way up in front of him. Even though Victoria is relatively tall when compared to the other queens, she is easily dwarfed by Plato standing over her.

The queen runs her paws along the tom’s chest, “Oooh yes, this is a perfect spot,” she muses as she looks up to him with a sweet smile. Victoria lifts her right leg up parallel to the floor before raising it slightly, brushing it against the fur just above Plato’s hip.

“Do you what this move is called?”

“Uh, no? Fancy leggy? What do you take me for Vic? I can’t even walk with half as much grace as you do. You're honestly magnificent.”

“You’re so flattering. It’s called adagio. Doesn’t that sound so romantic?”

“Kinda, yeah. Very elaborate.”                    

“Well, this,” she pauses as she raises that leg and arm straight up high into the air much like she does during her solo, “This is a développé.”

“That’s fucking hot. Bast Vic, you know I love when you demonstrate your skills like this.”

“Oh yes, I know. That’s why I want you to help me stretch.” She lowers her heel to waist level, stopping it with her paw. “Hold this for me,” she says as she offers her leg to Plato.

He brings it up to his mouth, kissing her foot gingerly, “For my lady, anything.”

“Okay, well then grab hold of my heel and lift my leg as high as it’ll go. I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

Doing as he is told, Plato raises it up, stopping as Victoria’s toes reach the level of his ear. The white queen is in a vertical splits, leaning to rest her legs fully against her tom’s body all the way from his feet to his shoulder.

“Good Plato, good.” She pats lightly against the paw holding her raised leg in place. “Now, fuck me like this.”

“What? How? I don’t want to hurt you Vic!” His eyes are wide is astonishment, running it through his mind how he can do it.

The white queen reaches between her legs, fingering her pussy to get them coated in her sweet wetness. She brings her fingers up to Plato’s mouth, shoving them in. The taste and scent sends a chill through him, his cock getting hard. “You’ll be fine. Do it for me, please? Stretch me out.”

Without needing any more of an invitation, the tom adjusts his footing and fucks slowly into her pink pussy as she purrs in response. Somehow, they always fit together perfectly, and this is no different. She is at the exact height he needs, and after a few testing thrusts, Plato’s hips find a rhythm as he pushes his cock into her tight heat as deep as he can manage like this.

“Fuck, I think you’re even tighter like this. It’s crazy.”

The tom is right. In this position, each thrust is sending a jolt of divine pleasure as her tom drives himself into her with a bit more resulting stretch and pressure than she is used to. He keeps on fucking her slow and hard, listening intently to her loud gasps and moans as she is filled so wonderfully.

“Bast, your pussy feels like heaven.”

“Hmm, then you’ll probably enjoy this then.”

Victoria loops an arm around her leg, and turns her body slightly on pointe so that the inside of her thighs are against his hips. She flexes herself even more, overextending into a full side split as she opens her pussy up more for her tom to bury his cock into. “Let me have it!”

The tom brings his own arm around her raised leg to support the queen, ramming his full length deep into her as she cries out. While he will gladly take her in any position, there is something so enthralling about getting the chance to fuck her as the ballerina she is. Plato’s mind is heavy with lust, enjoying every fleeting moment he can with his queen gifting him this special access. He is forceful with his moves, no longer holding back as much as he gives himself to her needs.

“Oh god, oh god. Fuck Plato, you’re stretching me out so good. That cock belongs deep inside me, don’t you forget. Keep it coming, harder!”

The tom roughly slides himself into her pussy again and again until Victoria is shaking.

“Fucking hell Plato. It feels so good.”

She can barely hold herself up as she cums again with a scream, her pussy clenching hard against Plato’s cock.

“Fuuuck!”

The white queen’s body slumps backwards against Plato as he still fucks her slowly, guiding her down from another revelatory orgasm as he supports her body with his own.

“Vic, that was amazing. I have always dreamed about something like this ever since I saw your first solo. You were just so beautiful when you showed off like that. Like this. Hhhgh, I just cannot help myself.”

The tom grabs her around her hips, pulling her off of the ground as they stay connected. As if she weighs nothing at all, Plato brings an arm behind her back to support her as he repositions the queen’s body.

He pulls her up so that they are embraced chest to chest, their eyes meeting again. The queen wraps her arms around him, pulling herself up into a hug. “I love you so, so much Victoria.”

“I love you too Plato.” She smiles sweetly up at him, nuzzling her head against his neck and chest as he tucks his head into hers. Their mutual lust quells for a fleeting moment in the den around them, with only the sound of low breathing being shared between them.

Plato is the first to break the silence as he begins kissing Victoria with an intense passion before starting to fuck her slowly again. He is languid as he thrusts into her, the look of utter adoration in his eyes as he cradles her in his arms. The queen loops her arms around the back of his neck as she longingly moans into his mouth, returning the love he is showing as they connect in quiet intimacy.

Their mouths break away as both try to catch their breaths, quickly getting exhausted as they continue intertwined, but neither is remotely interested in stopping now.

“Vic?”

“What?”

“So, I know I promised that I was done with personal requests, but I just thought of one more. May I?”

She laughs softly, amused by his tenacity with always finding new things to check off a mental list with her. “Go ahead. How could I say no?”

Plato kisses her forehead, murmuring a smitten “Thanks.”

The tom slides his arms up under her arms, lifting her off of his cock to a meekly frustrated whine from his love, clearly satisfied with his efforts up to this point but still wanting more. Plato holds her out at arms length, admiring her smaller frame. “You are so cute Vic, by the way. An angel in my hands.”

Swinging his arms up above his head quickly to a surprised yelp, the tom places Victoria so that she is sitting on his shoulders riding his face. Bracing her against his lips, he spreads his large paws across her lower back before he rubs his face into her heat. Unlike before, he is not keen on going slowly, kissing and licking wildly at her folds and clit as she claws the top of his head for stability. Her legs and thighs are quivering against his back as she moans loudly.

“Fucking hell Plato, I feel like I’m gonna black out up here. Shit you are too good at this!”

The tom grunts against her heat, blinded by the white fur shoved into his eyes. The queen curls her body forward, resting her chest atop of his head. “Plato, I think I only have it in me for one more time. Maybe you should choose wisely how you want that to happen?”

The tom gets the hint, stopping his exploits. He gently lowers her in his arms down to eye level, still licking his lips in ecstasy at the taste of her. “Well, are you ready then?”

“Oh yes, my love. Show me what my big strong man still has left in him”

Plato grabs under her ass, raising her in front of him and lowering her onto his hard cock. The queen clenches in glee as she slides over him, the pleasure of how he fills her up never waning. The tom brings his arms beneath her knees, adjusting her body and his hips before he quickly pumps repeatedly into her pink pussy with all that he has. Victoria shrieks in his arms, flailing her arms until they find his shoulders for support.

“Oh yes, fuck me just like that Plato. Holy hell! I’m all yours!” she cries out.

Her words unlock something in the tom’s mind, and his thrusts become heavier and hungrier. Plato growls with each push of his hips, getting feral as he takes his queen apart. Victoria screams in pleasure as he fucks her as hard and fast as he can, burying his cock into her warm heat like his nine lives have always been dependent on this very moment.

“Fuck, fuck. Fuccck!”

The queen squeals loudly as she cums, but the tom does not slow down, slamming himself into her. He leans forward and kisses her in his arms, biting at her lips and neck as he continues to fuck her. Victoria cums again, eyes beginning to roll back as her tom overwhelms her in waves of immense pleasure. Plato stays incessant with it, chasing his own release as he fucks her raw. The queen can barely talk, merely squeaking as each thrust makes her see stars.

Stepping forward, Plato throws their bodies down onto their bed, still ensuring that his queens lands relatively softly onto her back. He straddles her body, throwing his hips down into her. He looms over the white queen as she shines in the moonlight draping their den, kissing her frantically in a fit of pure love and lust. Victoria claws desperately at his back, carving scratches and pulling out clumps of his fur as she thrashes beneath him in beautiful agony. Forcing her thighs apart, he deepens his penetration, fucking her as her legs wrap around his back.

“Plato my dear, cum for me,” she whispers barely audible in contrast with the tom’s heavy breathing, but it rings out crystalline in his head.

Fucking in to her pussy, swollen from overstimulation, the tom thrusts hard into her as she yelps. The white queen cums hard again, moaning as she shudders uncontrollably against his skin. Above her, the tom unloads into her warm heat with a lengthy groan, flooding her tight pussy with throbbing waves of his cum before collapsing down onto the queen. Cum leaks out from her red pussy as they stay locked together, both utterly spent.

Victoria’s body is twitchy, fur completely on edge after being fucked so passionately. Her mind is still trying to play catch up from all of the orgasms, but she manages to reach out from underneath and give an appreciative pat to the tom laying overtop of her. They are both powerless to move, still recovering.

Plato gently cups Victoria’s face in his paws as they kiss. “I love you Vic. My love is yours today, tomorrow,” he stops to take a deep breath in, raising his head to look down a her, “It is yours for as long as there is air in these lungs. I swear I will find you in the next life, and if there isn’t one, then I will thank the Everlasting Cat at the gates to the Heaviside Layer for every single moment with you. You are the light of my life.”

“That’s so sweet, my love. I love you so much too. You are my total feeling solace in this world, steadying me.” She contemplates the words before starting again, “But, I mean this in a nice way, get off of me. You are so damn heavy”

Plato pulls out of his queen as cum pours from her pussy. He rolls onto his side, bringing Victoria beside him. They silently share a gaze of complete adoration, smiling excitedly to one another just like they did after their first time together.

“Fucking hell. That was the best time I’ve ever fucked you Vic. That was it. My god.” The tom’s breathing is still heavy, all of his energy totally wiped out in such a feral burst of lust. “I’m going to be dead on my feet for patrol tomorrow. How the hell do I explain to Munk why I can’t move?”

“Just look him in the dead in the eye and tell him that you were fucking your girl silly. I’m sure he'll understand. He seems like he can excuse a little break in private from the sounds of it, if you know what I mean.” She raises her eyebrows again as she grins.

“Oh lord, shut up,” he laughs.

“Hey, wait a minute, I thought you said you loved me? Pardon me with the sudden attitude you big oaf!”

“Vic, I love you more than literally anything, but I am not sure if it can trump that look Munk gives us when we are lacking energy. Have you even seen him disappointed? Its way worse than when he’s mad.”

“Tell him you are just trying to treat me like he treats his wife, mouth and all.” She nods once to sell her words.

“Oh my God!”

“Is that what Demeter said while you were watching them? I bet she did!”

“Why do I tell you anything? Seriously?”

Plato grabs his queen and pulls her into a tight hug as he kisses her forehead gingerly. After all of this, it is probably a good time to actually use their shared bed to get some rest and sleep. This night has proven to be one of the most rewarding in Plato’s new chapter of life, and he will always be thankful to whomever blessed him with the brightest light that shines in his universe. Being beside his white beauty is ultimately far more rewarding than anything pleasurable in this life or the one preceding or potentially following it, and he would never want to change a thing about that.

[carebearbussy]

𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙪𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙮.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 '𝙪𝙜𝙡𝙮' 𝙖𝙣𝙙 '𝙨𝙡𝙪𝙩', 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 2.7k

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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Your day went as normal as usual.

You walked with you head held high, a pep in your step as you wondered around the large estate claimed by Sukuna. Alongside you, was one of your loyal handmaids, ordered by Sukuna to accompany you by default. It was early morning, as you heard the talkative birds chirp in the crisp air. It was very relaxing, especially for you, who was often picked on by your fellow concubines, who were supposed to support you.

As you stepped onto the stone walkway that led to your beloved garden, you noticed the flowers slightly dwindling in color, as the stems had lost their pin point shape. This made you frown, as you realize you had forgot to water them recently. Your handmaiden follows behind you respectfully, as you walk through the rows of colorful flowers.

"You must really enjoy the flowers, my lady." You handmaiden pointed out, coming to that conclusion as she had watched you tend to the flowers every day without fail. It was something she admired about you greatly, that being your calm nature, even under the circumstance of Sukuna wanting you to be monitored 24/7. She felt some sort of pity, even through her love for Lord Sukuna. "Yes, I am quite fond of them. They are very beautiful, but they look very dull today..." You say through your pouting.

You walk over to the gardening table over by the end of the conservatory, as you put on your gardening gloves, as well as putting your hair in a high ponytail. Your handmaiden looks at you with her head tilted, questioning your motives. "My lady, you should not be getting your hands dirty. I suggest you stick to watering instead of doing the dirty work." She said, worried about what Lord Sukuna would think if he saw his favorite consort getting her pretty hands dirty. You look over at her while carrying a bag of soil, walking over to the start of where the flowers were.

"Its fine, really. He wont even know I was here today, hes out for a business meeting. Uraume informed me he may not return for a couple of days." You said, reassuring her, as you kneel down to tend to the garden. "Okay, if it is what you wish..." She says, looking around to see if anybody was watching. "I will just stay here and keep watch."

As you patted down the soil, you sprinkled water over the plants, the glass of the garden house letting the sunlight shine in. You looked at your work as you were halfway through, proud of the work you had so far accomplished. But as you were admiring your handiwork, you heard a group of heavy footsteps walk into the large garden house. You were not expecting anybody else to come here except for you, so who was it. Oh, of course, its them.

A group of three notorious mid ranking concubines, followed by one high ranking one. You audibly sighed, knowing what would follow suite. They laughed when they saw the sight before them. Sukuna's favorite? Doing a maids work? It was laughable to them. Was this finally the moment Lord Sukuna kicked you to the curb, and realized your true worth? That was what they hoped for in the end, but for now, they had to have their moment of joy, which was picking on you.

"My, my, my. Look at what we have here. Little Y/N is out doing the work of those lower than her? What did you do to make Lord Sukuna that upset?" The lead woman spoke, cackling along with the other girls. Your face distorted into that of annoyance. You looked at the girl straight in the eyes, preparing to attempt to defend yourself. "Why are you all here? To ridicule me? If you must know, I chose to tend to the garden."

One of the girls standing behind the lead scoffs, stepping slightly forward. Looking at your handmaids, then to you. "You really are pathetic, if you must need that woman with you at all times." She says, gesturing her hand towards your handmaiden. Your handmaiden looks away, too afraid to talk back to the likes of somebody a higher rank than her. "It would be a damn shame if you got dirt on your precious face, it's already messed up, you aren't the prettiest woman ever." Another one adds in, creating more fuel to the fire by taking a jab at your appearance.

This stroke a nerve in you, your self esteem slowly crumbling as they go on. The lead concubine takes a step closer to your kneeling form, looking down on you as if you were nobody. She crouches down to your eye level, grabbing your chin on each side with her fingers. "I really don't see what Lord Sukuna saw in you. He must not be very interested in you anymore. You are nowhere near perfect. Especially after your massive weight gain." She says, knowing the damage she is doing to you. She lets go of your chin, pushing you slightly back. "It wont be long before he gets rid of you for good, hopefully as soon as possible. We don't need an ugly duckling the likes of you waddling around the well known beauty of Lord Sukuna's estate." She says, brushing astray dirt off her kimono, as the girls behind her laugh at her words.

You feel tears forming in your eyes, as you try your best to hold them back and to not lash out at the woman, you mouth hanging agape from shock. But you are not as slick as the woman currently standing before you. She looks at you, a smirk crossing her fair face in accomplishment. "Aw, whats wrong? Are you going to cry? Your already the biggest slut in the palace, I don't need to call you more hurtful things."

And this was the last push to send you over the edge, as you felt hot tears spill from your eyes. The girls laughed louder, mocking your weak state. You panicked, as you got up, pushing the woman out fo your way as you ran out of the garden house, your gloves still on, your ponytail messy. You ran as far away from the scene as you could, as your handmaiden ran after you, pure shock in her eyes. Embarrassment crept up your spine, as you ran all the way to the opposite side of the wing of the garden, out of sight from any onlookers. How were you to face anybody?

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You lay sorrowful in your large bed, curled up into a ball as you cradled your knees. Your eyes were puffy with sorrow, as warm tears streamed down your face, all the way down to your chest. Your nose was stuffy, snot running trickling down your nose. Used tissues covered the bed like a sea, as your handmaiden handed you more. She rubbed your back, as she sat on the edge of the bed watching you.

"My lady, please don't cry." She said, worried for you and your morale. You look up at her through wet eyelashes, as you sniffled into a half dirty tissue she held up for you. "Easy for you to say, you don't know what its like to be me. It feels like every single day, the people of the estate seem to hate me even more, and I try so hard to avoid it. I just don't know how to endure it anymore." You say, your lower lip quivering.

Your handmaiden looks at you pitifully. She feels like she knows you so well. She felt like your only true friend since being welcomed into Sukuna's estate. So it hurt to see you like this, especially after witnessing the unfair treatment you had received throughout your time here. The slow hand that once rubbed your back moved up to move the loose hair from your face, letting her see your full face out on display. But instead, you cover it, by moving your head more towards the pillows, the concubines words clearly getting to your head.

But she saw right though you. "My lady, the things those girls have said are simply untrue. I'm sure they were just saying that to get a rise out of you. They want what they cannot have, especially your close relationship with Lord Sukuna." You stop into your own world and think about it. Yes sure, you knew jealousy was a big factor in their distaste in you, but then why would they say such specific things? Were you truly all of those things they said you were?

"I'm sure it stemmed from what they truly want from you. All they want are reactions like these from you-" She says, but intervened by none other than the man himself, the head of the entire estate, Sukuna, who had came home unexpectedly earlier than usual.

Your handmaiden from what seems like instinct, immediately gets up to bow, anxiety filling her system for the largely built man standing before her. "Just what the hell do you think you are doing in my quarters uninvited?" He asks, unamused by the sudden appearance by anybody other than you. He looks down at her, waiting impatiently for an answer. "My lord, I was just tending to My lady, Y/N. She seemed in distress after a sudden altercation-" Without a second thought, he pushes her out of the way with his foot. Searching for you. He hears sorrowful sniffles coming from his large bed, as he raises his eyebrow in confusion. Who is in his bed? Ahh, it you, something must have happened.

You look up slightly from the bed to be greeted by Sukuna's broad stature, as you turn away from him, not wanting to face the fact that you failed to stand up for yourself. You had always made it a point to prove that you were strong willed, but this time around, you had failed. And failure is something you had feared around the likes of Sukuna.

He walks over to the opposite side of the bed that you were on, not wanting to upset you further, knowing how you become when you are upset. You try to muffle your sniffling, but to no avail. He looks at your chest rise and fall quickly, due to the nature of your fast breathing. A loud, audible sigh is heard behind you, the sound of it making chills creep up your spine. He then looks over at the handmaiden, who is still kneeling on the floor. "Leave." He says to her, as she quickly gets up to take her leave, not stopping to say anymore goodbyes.

He then looks back at you, who is unable to turn his way. "Whats wrong brat? Are you going to explain what happened, or are you just going to lay there like a sappy little thing." He says, crawling into bed, grabbing hold of your waist. He notices you flinching, keeping it in mind that when you are sad, you become sensitive to touch. He slowly brings you into his chest, your legs straddling his lower waist. Your body shakes as you hide your face within his chest, getting his robe wet with your snot.

"Look at me." He orders you, clearly not liking the mood you are in. But you don't move. Instead, you move your head side to side, still hiding your face from sight. Your head nuzzles further into his chest, as you move your arms to either side of his waist, hugging him deeply as you inhale his scent. You feel your tears keep running, as you use his robe to wipe them. "I told you to look at me, I wont repeat myself a third time." He said, sternly informing you. You didn't want to upset him, so you slowly look up at him, barely being able to hold eye contact. His eyebrows slightly furrow, as he slightly adjusts himself on the bed.

"Christ, what happened to you woman?" He says, using his upper left hand to wipe away the tears staining your face. He brushed his thumb over your cheek, but quickly stopping realizing how intimate that was. You hesitated before you spoke. "Its just... there are these girls, and I feel like ever since you became a part of my life, I have been tormented by them." You said, the thought of them ridiculing you flooding back into your mind like a storm, causing more tears to flood your waterline. "Torment? How so?" He asks, wanting to hear more.

"Like today for example, I was just trying to tend to the garden, and they came in and- its just- its complicated." You said, not wanting to spill the full details, worried of his reaction. "What did those woman do." He said. It was more of him trying to figure out what happened, than a question towards you. But you felt your emotions run high, causing you to completely unfold before Sukuna. "They came in, and they basically told me I would never amount to anything, and how i'm ugly, and that I gained weight recently."

He looks at you, his upper lip curling into that of disgust for what he just heard. You? Ugly? Never amount to anything? Gaining weight? This was all ridiculous to him. He would never truly understand why you were upset at being called those things, but he particularly did not like the reaction you had to it. Seeing you cry, for some reason, tore on his heart strings hard. Your emotions ran through him like an electrical current. He lowered his back into the mattress, still holding you tight.

"That has to be one of the most absurd things I have heard in my years of living. You are none of those things. Why would I care about such laughable things. You're my woman, nobody else is able to judge you, except for me."

You look at him with glossy eyes, as you place your hands over his chest, which had a wet patch due to the mixture of your snot and tears. You felt your lip quiver all over again at his words, thus resting your face on one side of his chest. You let all your tears run out, as you felt yourself quietly wail at the hands of Sukuna. He placed a large hand over your back, massaging your back, soothing you simultaneously.

"Thats it, let it all out. God, you look so weak right now, its quite endearing." He says, a slight smile being hidden from your field of vision. You grip onto the ridges of his robe, using it to try to grab onto something. His lower hands grip each side of your bottom, holding you for leverage. As he massaged your back, he pet your hair with his other top hand. Your hair was always one of his favorite things about you, which is something that stuck in your head. The words of your handmaiden ran through your head as well;

'They want what they cannot have, especially your close relationship with Lord Sukuna.'

It was true after all. And you will come to realize that as time goes on. How lucky did you get to become Sukuna's most favored? Any other girl in your situation would think the same way. Especially the way he is giving you so much attention. It makes you so happy. Knowing those girls would give anything to be in your situation. You felt like a princess.

You felt yourself fall into deep slumber, the comfort of your thoughts, along with Sukuna's relaxing hold bringing you comfort in moments like these. He looks down at you as he notices you had seized your crying. He thinks about moving from his spot, but decides against it, not wanting to ruin your beauty sleep. You needed this, he thinks. And he was right. He brushes the hair that covers your ear out of the way with his hand, as he leans down to whisper into your sleeping form.

"You can trust, those woman will be dealt with accordingly."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

(𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙄 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙥𝙩 2?)

[too-deviant]

strategic manoeuvre.

— WITH…ART DONALDSON!

contains...babysitter!reader, age gap, 18+ MDNI, art cheats w reader but it is lowkey implied that tashi planned the whole thing, car sex, semi-public sex, head (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, inspired by this post from @traumatrios

You had never been interested in tennis before Art. 

You weren’t interested in sports at all, really — you just wanted to buckle down and focus on your college work, earn some money with an easy part-time job. You didn’t have time to follow sports, or anything else. 

But then you got a call. You had been in the middle of a lecture when your phone buzzed against your notebook, a California number shining up at you and enticing you to pick up. Normally you would’ve let it go to voicemail, but you had recently gone around some of the fancier hotels in your city with flyers, asking for babysitting jobs and posting your number, so you excused yourself with a wave and took the call in the hallway. 

You didn’t know who Tashi Donaldson was when she introduced herself, but the hotel she’d asked you to come to later that night was fancy enough that you didn’t question it. You had done an extensive google search afterwards, of course, but simply raised an impressed brow at her repertoire. 

Then you met Art, her tennis player husband and the father of the lovely little girl you would be taking care of, and suddenly you were pretty interested in tennis. 

It started when Lily had a bad nightmare and you couldn’t get her down — well, it started when you met the guy, palm sweaty in his own as he introduced himself, but it didn’t really start until you had to put one of his old games on the TV for the girl to watch until she fell asleep at your side, tear tracks from her bad dream dry on her cheeks. 

You had been planning on carrying her back to her bed when she was down for the count, but you had been so fixated on Art’s movements; his determined look, his arms, his legs, that you ended up dropping out too. You woke up a few hours later with a blanket over your body and Art standing quietly at the kitchen island behind the sofa. 

“You looked peaceful. Didn't wanna wake you.” He’d said, sipping at his tea, and you knew you were done for. 

Now all of a sudden you had time to watch a tennis match in the morning, play one as background noise while you studied. You had started following his tennis journey right from the Junior Open in 2006 — you didn’t think you'd ever actually see him again, but you could fantasise about it whenever you remembered the smell of his cologne as he thanked you for taking care of Lily, promising a big tip would go straight into your account in the morning. 

(The money went in fifteen minutes after you’d left).

It came as a pleasant surprise when Tashi’s number popped up on your screen once more, a few months later. You had been in your kitchen, and took the call the moment you recognised the digits. 

“We’re a little ways out of town.” She’d said, “But Lily raved about you for days after last time, and we know you better than a stranger. If you can’t make it out here, don’t worry, but we still wanted to try our luck.”

We she’d said. As in her and Art. 

You cursed yourself for lusting after a married man in the uber to the hotel. 

From then on out, you became their primary babysitter. Since they travelled a lot, and Tashi’s mom was with them most of the time, you only really sat for them once every couple of months. The town you lived in was sunny and had a huge private sports centre for professional athletes — a fact you weren’t aware of until Art told you over a cup of tea — so they always came back. You were glad you could count on them coming back — it was like magic, the way your phone lit up with Tashi’s now saved contact whenever the late night bingeing of matches and interviews stopped fueling your infatuation. 

The guilt was almost enough to make you ignore it, say you were busy or just get a new number all together. But you never did. As much as you knew it was wrong, you always dropped what you were doing and drove to that cushy hotel where the receptionist knew your face and let you in with a smile. You travelled that same memorised route to the master suite, knocked on the door and made sure you were standing far enough away from the peep hole that you didn’t look weird and distorted when Art would look through before letting you in. 

It was always Art now. Tashi had greeted you a few times but lately it had always been him — a sick part of you thought she might’ve known about your crush on him, played with it for fun because she couldn’t play tennis anymore. But that was crazy, and you really needed to sort yourself out. 

You would greet him with a smile, push through the small talk, lean up against the kitchen island and watch his shirt stretch around the planes of his back as he made you coffee (On those unlucky days he would be wearing a shirt. Sometimes he would be just done with warm ups and physio and would answer the door half naked and covered in sweat. Those were the good days). Then Lily would come running at you from her room, hug you around your waist and pull you in to play; Art would laugh and grin at you, sliding the coffee cup in your direction and holding your eyes before heading to his room to get ready. 

You would be knee deep in headless barbies and chewed up polly pocket clothes when he and would return, dressed up and ready to go. He would lean down, kiss Lily on the forehead, and press his hand to your back in a silent goodbye. Then he would leave, and you would spend the whole day trying to pull yourself together. 

He was married. He was ten years older than you. He had a child, and was paying you to look after her. 

But he always made you coffee when you arrived — just how you liked it because he remembered. He always checked in on you, asked you how your life was while you nursed the mug that was warm from the beverage and his hands. He would tell Lily to behave for you because We like her, and we don’t want to scare her off. He would let his land linger on your back half a second longer every single time he left. 

But.

But Tashi was the one who would call you. She was the one who made you coffee the first time, told you it was the least they could do for you. She would walk out of her room with Art, smile at you and tell you how beautiful you look in that shirt. She would grin at you before leaving, waiting patiently by the door for her husband to take his hand off your back. 

You were evil. Truly. The guy was married. 

But as evil as you were, you always made sure there was an old game of his playing on the TV when they would return — because then Art would prompt you to stay and listen to him talk about it. And you would have an excuse to lean up against that island and watch him make tea while Tashi excused herself to bed. Hours would pass before he was checking his watch and hissing out an apology for keeping you so late, and then letting you leave. 

The first couple of times he’d simply make sure you got in your uber safely. Then he started calling cars himself, the same ones that would drive him and his family to and from matches, press events. The same sort of service celebrites used, not their babysitters. You didn’t mind — it was a thrill, listening to him ask the person behind the wheel to make sure you got back safely.

(The bar was under the court at this point, but at least you were aware of that).

But tonight was different. In more ways than one. 

In the beginning, all was the same. You were left sitting on the plush carpet of Lily’s room surrounded by lego pieces, a burning in your gut and guilt in your heart. You played doctor, you made dinner, ordered room service after her relentless begging, put on a movie, carried her sleeping form to bed, came back and watched Art play tennis until he returned. 

You had started to run out of games to watch, ones you hadn’t already seen, so settled for an old game from 2006. He was playing against his old partner, Patrick something, and you wondered where the lesser known second half of Fire and Ice had disappeared to after that night. 

Then Art came back, Tashi right behind him, and you smiled at them both over the back of the sofa. Tashi watched the game, something unfamiliar glinting in her irises, before blinking back at Art, “I’m going to bed.”

He responded a little slower, kissing her goodnight and looking back at you, “Tea? This game was one of my most memorable.”

“Even though you lost?” You teased, leaning against the marble. 

He paused, looking back at you. He blinked, “Yeah.”

You drank your tea. You pretended like you weren’t full of shame for standing that inch closer to him. You let him talk until he had nothing left to talk about, and watched him check his watch. You waited for him to pick up the phone and call the car — only he paused by the phone, hand floating just before it, and retracted his steps to the kitchen, “I’m gonna drive you back, if it’s not too much trouble. Saves waking up my driver.”

“Oh.” Your fingers twitched, and you told them to stop. “Sure, of course.” 

Art’s car wasn’t what you had expected. Thinking back on it, he didn’t seem like the sports car type, but his status and riches led you to assume you were about to get into one of the two seats in his Bugatti — you didn’t. The black jeep was expensive enough for someone like him, but close enough to home that you didn’t feel like an outsider climbing into the passenger seat.  

The drive wasn’t all that far — twenty minutes both ways, so Art would’ve been back before Tashi fell asleep if he hadn't pulled into a parking lot five minutes out. 

Your lips parted, eyes following his hands as they slid slowly off the wheel and into his thighs. His chest rose with a deep breath and his jaw constricted when he swallowed. Then he was looking at you, eyes piercing. 

“Lily likes you.”

You were unsure, feet shifting beneath you, the sound encasing the silence of the space and forcing you to stop and blink, “I’m glad. I like her.” 

“Tashi likes you.” 

You weren’t too positive that she would like you if she could feel how you were feeling now — that all too familiar heartbeat pulsing between your legs with every one of Art’s breaths. 

“I like you.” He finished, tilting his head until his temple rested softly on the headrest of his seat. His smile was almost taunting when he undid his seatbelt, “Which is your favourite?”

“What?”

“The games.” He clarified, knowing his question was too broad and that you would have to ask, “The ones you watch every time you’re over. The ones I assume you watch even when you aren’t sitting for us. My games. Which is your favourite?” 

“Oh. Um —“ Slightly distracted by the way he shed his jacket, dumping it in the backseat. He’d lent all the way forward to take it off and his eyes didn’t leave yours once. “I don’t know.” 

“The one you were watching tonight.” He asked then, “What’d you think of it? Honestly.” 

“Honestly?” You swallowed, mortified that you were even entertaining this, “You looked a little distracted.” 

He huffed a laugh, finally looking away and letting you breathe. It didn’t last long, because he was then getting out of the car and rounding the front of it. 

The breeze was cool when it hit you, Art blocking most of it from where he stood in the gap. His hand was still on the handle, but you were busy unbuckling your own seatbelt — the message had been received, you had crossed a line and he was kicking you out of his car. 

But when you turned, legs swinging carefully into the cold, his hand on your knee stopped you from really getting out. Your eyes snapped up to his, and you realised you had been caged — with one hand on the door and one hand on you, Art Donaldson had you right where you had been dreaming of him having you. It felt surreal. 

“My opponent. In the game from tonight.” He breathed, glancing around casually like you were having one of your simple conversations over tea. “He slept with my wife.”

Out of all the things… 

“What?” Your eyes darted between his, but the rest of your body otherwise remained still. Even when his hand on your knee travelled upwards. 

“He’d slept with her before. In college. We weren’t together then.” He was now watching his hand move, like he wasn’t the one moving it, “But then he slept with her again, in Atlanta. After I’d already married her.”

“Wow.” You breathed, mainly because it was the easiest word you could slide out of your mouth whilst holding your breath. His fingers reached your thigh, begged to dip between them. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He was quick to respond. Your legs parted on instinct, and at this point you had surrendered to being an awful person — although maybe you’d fallen asleep on the couch and this was all a dream. You didn’t think you’d be able to face Art if it was. You couldn’t even face him now. 

He took the newfound space for granted, stepping between your legs and holding them open with his body. His hand on the door followed him, taking its new place on your other leg. He rubbed up and down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from his face. 

“I don’t want you watching him play.” He spoke lowly, tracing his fingertips around your waistband, “I’ve seen enough of his games.”

“Okay.” You didn’t hesitate to let out, swallowing the hungered saliva that had built up in your mouth. 

He unbuttoned your jeans, pulled the zipper down — painstakingly slow, but it allowed you time to brace your hands on the seat and the dashboard so you could raise your hips and let him slide them off you. 

You were stuck in your head, but Art didn’t seem to notice since he was too busy folding your jeans and hanging them over the open car door. You dared question it through a heavy breath but he just moved on to your panties, throwing them precariously on the dashboard and exposing your glittering cunt to his bright eyes. 

“We shouldn’t —“ It was a half-assed attempt at reconciling with your guilt, but the fact that you were half naked and spread eagle made it lose its meaning. 

Art shushed you, kneeling down so he was looking at your pussy, “We can, and we will.” Then he glanced back at you, brow arched, “Unless you don’t want to.”

Any sense of rationale had fucked off when he put his hand on your leg, so you swallowed and said, “I want to.”

He wasted no time, licking a thick stripe from your asshole to your clit. You knocked your head back with a gasped moan, bucking into him and hissing when the gear stick poked you in the back when you led back too far. 

You let out a shaky breath as he lapped you up, tongue dipping inside of you before travelling up to that sweet spot and sucking at it gently. You gasped and moaned, hands scrambling between holding yourself up and holding him down. His own were resting on your thighs — his calm and collected demeanour was a drastic contradiction from your own. 

His head nodded calmly between your legs, relaxed in its position — yours, shaky and tense all at once, neck bracing whenever you fell back. His hands tapped soft melodies on your skin whereas yours tightened around whatever was in their old, whether that be the leather of the seats or the blonde of Art’s hair. 

When he finally came up for air, his chin was coated in your slick, and he licked his lips clean before straightening up above you. You watched, paralysed, while he unbuckled his belt, threw it over the door with your jeans, and sent you a look under his lashes that you’d only seen him wear during his tennis matches. 

You had been keeping quiet earlier, but when he bottomed out inside you and started to piston, your mind went wild. Choruses of Oh my God and Fuck!, shouts of Art’s name and whimpers under your breath — it all came tumbling out and you couldn’t even try and stop it. 

Not that you wanted to; your vocality seemed to make him go faster, harder. It made him vocal, no longer calm and relaxed as he had been when eating you out, but loud and gruff. Grunts and moans you had dreamt about hearing outside of a television screen, now being huffed into the air you shared. 

You came with a whine and Art followed not long after, and you settled there for a moment — legs spread in his passenger seat with him standing between them — until you could muster up the strength to push yourself up. 

Five minutes later and you were both dressed, Art’s black jeep parked outside of your apartment building. You hadn’t exchanged any more words, but when you turned to slam the door once you had jumped out, you found his eyes on yours. 

“I have a game this weekend. Two hours out. Tashi wanted you to come. A gift, for all you’ve done for us.” 

(You went to the game. Art won. Tashi grinned like she’d made it happen and then offered to buy you a drink).

divider by @cafekitsune !!

[gurugirl]

The Mushroomer | friendly ghost!harry

Summary: Y/n moves into a small house in the woods and she soon realizes the house is haunted. But it really turns out to be not so bad at all to have a ghost when he's as kind as the one living with her.

A/n: Harry's a sweet ghost - so nothing scary here. But it is a little sad (with a happy ending). Also, I took some artistic liberties on what ghosts can do with this one shot so you may need to suspend your disbelief a bit. xoxo

Word Count: 11.5k

Warning: smut, talk of depression & suicide, loneliness (Harry's a sad ghost but Y/n makes him happy)

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

Y/n had been living in the small house in the woods for only a couple of weeks when she started noticing strange things. She'd be typing on her laptop, cozy and focused when suddenly the tea kettle would whistle, breaking her out of the moment and scaring the life out of her. Somehow, not only would her tea kettle be on the burner but it was magically filled with water -both of which she had not done.

Or like the other evening when she was getting ready to settle into bed and she remembered she needed to turn off the lights in her kitchen so she grumpily got up and padded into the living room to see with her own eyes as her kitchen lights shut themselves off. It was nice to not have to walk all that way (which really wasn't all that far) but the creep factor of that happening was quite substantial.

But there were a lot of little things she'd been side-eyeing that made her wonder what was going on. However, she couldn't ignore it that morning. The way the blankets next to her were raised up as if someone were lying underneath them with her.

She had just woken up and her eyes were bleary and tired but the drizzle of morning light shining in her room made it clear that something was in the bed right next to her. Reaching toward the human-sized lump she blinked her eyes slowly and the moment her hand came into contact with the wool it suddenly deflated and dropped to the bed. She sat up and looked around the quiet space of her small room with her heart pounding in her chest.

"Is someone here?"

She was answered with silence. Pulling the blanket back she found exactly what she imagined. Nothing.

But then the kettle was going off and she jumped from the bed, quickly putting her slippers on her feet before dashing into the kitchen to shut off the burner.

"What is going on? Is someone here? Just…" She put her hands over her face in frustration as she groaned and when she pulled her hands away, there was her favorite mug sitting out for her already.

She remembered emptying the kettle and cleaning her mug and putting it away the night before. This was all impossible.

But she was in the mood for a hot cup of tea so she reluctantly grabbed the mug and that's when she saw her tea ball inside already filled with her favorite English breakfast tea leaves.

Pouring the hot water into her mug she peered around the kitchen, "Thank you. If there is someone there. This was nice. But… kind of creepy."

So, Y/n's day was off to an interesting start, and even though she'd been experiencing strange things and there was a small part of her that wondered if perhaps she had some kind of friendly ghost in her house, that day she was especially present and keeping her eyes open for anything odd.

Which led her to do some research on the old house she'd bought. She wondered who'd lived there before her. She only knew what was public. The property tax amount, and how many times the house had been bought and sold over the years (that number was surprisingly high). And that made her wonder if there was a connection. Had others been experiencing strange things in the home too? Had they been so spooked that they left, selling it to the next person to start the process all over again?

Of course, nothing that was happening was scary. Not really. It was strange, yes. It got her heart rate up a few times… but in the end, everything had been friendly or harmless gestures. Helpful even.

She didn't get much writing done that day, but rather she did find some interesting things online. It took her some time to get down to any names of people who'd lived in the house before (she didn't find many), but there was an old article from 1999 about a young professor who lived in town who died after going mushroom picking and eating the wrong kind. The article was more of an informative warning kind of story but there were some details that caught her interest.

The man would often forage for mushrooms being somewhat of an expert, but even with all of his knowledge he still mistook a bad one for a good one. Supposedly he died in his home all alone. And he was called by the name Harry. It didn't say where Harry lived exactly just that he was a professor from the area and he'd lived in the woods.

And that story led her to other smaller accounts of Harry the teacher and mushroomer who lived in the woods. She was so fascinated by the little bits of information she found that she hadn't realized the sun was already setting. She'd been at her desk reading what little she could find about this mysterious man who died in 1985, likely in the very house she was sitting in. He was 30 when he died.

"Mushrooms…" she spoke to herself as she recalled the mushrooms carved into the top of the banisters on the porch.

Closing her laptop she flicked on a lamp and then turned on her front porch light to double-check the wooden banisters and sure enough, mushrooms.

She placed her hand over the tops of them and bent to look at the work. It was crude, not carved by a wood maker but maybe an amateur. Perhaps Harry himself had carved them. Over the years, of course, the wood was aged and worn from the elements but it was clearly meant to be the shape of a mushroom.

She made a mental note to buy some varnish to cover them and make sure they didn't erode further. To keep the artist's work intact.

"I like these," she smiled and looked around herself, not sure if the ghost, or whatever it was, might be watching. She knew she might be losing her mind, entertaining such thoughts, but what else could it be? Surely something was afoot. Luckily, whatever it was, seemed to be kind and liked to get her tea started for her.

Y/n turned on her radio as she made cucumber and cheese sandwiches and hummed along. She'd peek behind herself every now and then in hopes of seeing something but that night nothing more came. Just when she was beginning to find the whole idea of having a ghost exciting, he suddenly wanted to be quiet.

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

She wanted to sit outside to write that day. Took her hot tea with a little honey that morning and an English muffin with a jammy egg and extra butter. Then she piled the wooden bench with blankets and a couple of pillows and spread herself along the space and began to write.

Y/n loved her solitude. Loved the quiet and the freedom to live her life as she wanted day to day. She might call herself lucky that she didn't have to work a traditional 9-5 job but being a writer and trying to keep on schedule with her publisher was quite difficult at times. But she wouldn't trade the stress of getting her work done on deadline for anything. Especially not when she got to enjoy such peace in her life.

She wasn't rich. Not even close, but she did alright for herself. She'd been able to buy the adorable little house in the woods all on her own after all. So she was grateful for her life.

Content.

When she heard rustling leaves coming from the side of the house she stopped typing and kept her ears perked to listen. It sounded like a large animal moving through from the woods.

Getting up slowly and as quietly as she could she carefully stepped toward the edge of the porch and looked down at the side of the house to see nothing but dried brown leaves.

She was still hoping to see her ghost. Hoping he'd show himself –if there was a ghost (though she was almost certain by then). But everything had been quiet since before she ate dinner the night before.

Pursing her lips, she was a little disappointed that she still had not seen anything substantial yet. But as she turned to walk back to her bench, there, atop her closed laptop was a mushroom. A freshly picked mushroom. She wasn't sure what kind it was but it was clearly wild with a bit of dirt still at its base.

Plucking it up between her pointer finger and thumb she laughed as she moved her eyes all around her, "Is this from you, Harry? Harry the Mushroomer? That's what they call you, you know."

She walked down the steps of her porch to the front yard with the mushroom in her hand and peered around, "Thank you for this, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable eating it. Didn't you die because you ate the wrong kind? Accidentally poisoned yourself?"

Y/n knew that if anyone could see her they'd think she was a crazy woman talking to herself like that. Luckily she had no visible neighbors.

"Well? Are you gonna show yourself or just keep doing little things like this? It's okay if this is it. I don't mind, but it's hard to talk to you when I can't hear or see you."

In almost an instant there was a figure at the limn of her eye and she turned to see a tall man looking at her. She waited for a moment before speaking as his appearance seemed to slowly fill in… like he was being painted to life before her eyes.

He pointed at her hand, "It's safe. I promise."

She looked down at the mushroom in her palm and then back at the man, "Are you… Harry?"

He stepped back, the lines around him seemed to fade and Y/n reached toward him, "Don't leave! Please. I'd like to talk if you can."

"I can't leave."

"You can't… Because you're stuck here? Attached to this house?"

He nodded, the vibrant color of his skin filling in again and she noticed his eyes were a soft green like the moss in the small pond up the path.

"I'm sorry. It must be hard to be stuck like that."

"It is."

"Did you carve those mushrooms there," she pointed toward the banister.

He nodded again. She didn't know if that's just how he was, quiet and shy. Or maybe it was because he was not used to interacting with people anymore.

"Um… thank you for the mushroom. And for the tea. You seem to like to help."

He looked like a real man standing in her front yard with his brown shoes in the dead leaves that were scattered about. He wore a cream-colored sweater and khaki pants.

"I do like to help. You can eat that. They were wrong."

"Who was wrong? About what?"

She watched him blink and look toward the porch before he motioned to the house, "May I?"

Y/n grinned, not quite believing what was happening but fascinated all at the same time, "Of course. It's your house, Harry."

He looked at her for a second, the smallest bit of a smile spread across his face before he nodded and began to move up toward the porch, Y/n following behind him.

She stopped and watched him walk toward the wooden bench and sit down, as if he were too weary to stand, though she never imagined ghosts feeling tired like that. He stared out toward the trees before he spoke, "I did it on purpose. It wasn't an accident."

She stitched her brows together and wrapped an arm around the wooden post at the top of the steps, "You poisoned yourself?"

He nodded, still staring toward the yard and trees with their changing leaves, "I wish I hadn't but I was sad and I wanted to stop feeling sad. And then everyone thought it was just an accident. A mistake. But it wasn't."

Y/n stepped toward him cautiously, not wanting to scare him off, "Can I sit next to you?"

He looked up at her before moving his mournful eyes back toward the woods. She took that as a yes, so she carefully sat on the bench next to her sad ghost.

"Why were you sad?"

He shook his head slowly, "Lonely. But it's much worse like this. No one wants to talk to a spirit. Everyone gets spooked."

"You can talk to me. I'm not spooked," she spoke quietly and he looked at her again, brows softening as she continued, "If you want we can be friends."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why am I not spooked? Why do I want to be your friend?" She raised her brows.

Harry didn't answer, though. He only kept his gaze on hers. She figured his why was to all of the above. He wasn't used to people anymore.

"Well… you've been very welcoming toward me since I moved in. Kind even. Getting my tea ready, that was clever," she laughed and watched as his shoulders seemed to relax, "That's not spooky. It was helpful. And I like that you wanted to be nice so I'd like to be your friend."

"Okay. Just know… I can't leave. So if you feel bothered the best I can do is step outside or into another room. People have tried having the house blessed. A priest came in once and tried to get me to leave. I wish I wasn't stuck here. I hoped that somehow that would work, with the priest, but it didn't. I'd rather be gone but instead, I'm trapped, halfway here and halfway there."

"So, you're the kind of ghost that can pick things up and –well you also look like a real man too. To me you do."

He shrugged, "I don't know. I guess. I've never met another ghost."

The pair sat on the porch together for nearly two hours. Y/n was intrigued and had quite a few questions but she also told him about herself. At one point Harry could see she was chilled so he handed her blanket from underneath him and helped her drape it over her shoulders.

She couldn't imagine how a man like him had found such a fate. Every now and then when he spoke she noted that he had a natural charisma, a charm that certainly had caught the eye of a few ladies at one time. He was smart and kind. And she couldn't help but notice how handsome he was too. But mostly he was sad. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him if he'd let her. Tell him he wouldn't be alone anymore and that it was going to be okay.

When she made dinner for herself she used the mushroom he'd picked and he told her where she could find more of them. That they could forage together if she were up for it. He made her tea and told her that she liked her tea the same way his mother did.

It felt like she was talking to someone she knew a long time ago and that they were just reconnecting after years of being apart. It took a bit to warm up but once they got going Harry was a regular conversationalist. She could picture him as a professor in front of students relating his biology teachings to a story about being chased down the street by a pack of wild dogs.

He was funny. Y/n liked Harry a lot. She hadn't really gotten any work done that day but there wasn't a part of her that regretted that.

When the sun had gone down she turned on all the lamps and let Harry sit in her comfy chair near the wood-burning stove (that he installed all by himself in 1981) and take his pick of book to read from her bookshelf.

She finally wound up getting a decent amount of writing done with Harry just there reading. It was nice to have a companion with her. She loved her peace and quiet but it was easy for her to adjust to Harry being there. Maybe because he had been there all along.

When she was getting tired and couldn't write anymore she looked over at Harry and noticed that he was still fully immersed in the book, "I think I'm gonna go to bed. Um… you can do whatever you want. And no need to hide or anything. Okay? I like you around."

"Oh. Yeah. Of course. I'll just be here. Won't bother you."

Y/n smiled at him as she stood up, "You're not a bother. I'll see you in the morning?"

He smiled and nodded at her, "Thank you."

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

"So you do sleep at all, Harry?" Y/n asked him as she poured hot water over her tea.

"Yes. That's mostly all I do. I like to be unconscious. Pretend I'm not here."

Y/n felt so sad hearing the way he spoke. Even in death, he seemed to be depressed, sad.

"And where do you normally sleep?"

He shrugged, the book he had been reading from the night before was in his hand, "Wherever. In the bed sometimes."

Y/n looked at him, squinting her eyes, "Next to me? Like you did the other morning?"

He looked down and nodded, "Sorry. I won't do it again. Just like to feel like I'm not alone and when you're sleeping I know I won't scare you because you won't even know I'm there. But," he looked up at her quickly, "I've never done anything weird. I would never. It was just to be closer is all. Not in a weird way-" he shook his head and grumbled something under his breath, "But that still sounds weird to you I'm sure. I meant no harm."

She reached her hand toward him, almost not expecting to feel anything but when her finger grazed the fabric of his sweater she was startled and stepped back. But the moment Harry realized she'd gotten spooked he was gone in an instant. The book he'd been holding lying on her tile countertop.

"No. Harry don't leave, please. I… just didn't expect to be able to touch your sweater. It's… I promise it wasn't because I was scared of you. Please come back. I'm sorry. This is all new for me and I was surprised is all."

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see him, but he was hazy, not quite there, "I don't want to scare you. I'm used to just staying in the shadows, Y/n. I don't think I could bear having you be frightened of me."

Moving toward him slowly she put her palms facing out to him in conciliation, "I'm not frightened. I promise. I just didn't realize I'd feel it when I reached for you. I want you to stay. I like you here. I like your company. I like seeing you. And now I'll know better than to be surprised when I can feel the wool on your sweater next time."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, putting her hands down to her side, "I'm sure. And I don't want you to be skittish around me either. You don't need to disappear like that. Let's just get used to one another okay? But I'm not frightened. I think I already prefer you to most people I've met, in fact."

That got him smiling and it almost appeared like he was blushing as he looked down at the floor, a dimple scored into his cheek.

Quite the handsome ghost when he was smiling. He blinked his eyes as his form became tangible again, corporeal.

She took a deep breath and reached for him again, slowly that time, placing her palm up for him to reach out toward. She watched as he lifted his hand and gradually pushed it forward until she could feel the whispy brush of his skin on her fingertips before he pressed his palm over hers. Like a real person, with skin and everything.

"I can feel you. Can you feel me too?" She asked.

He nodded as his grin spread, "Yes. That's nice."

"It is nice. See? Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about," he repeated, his eyes on hers.

"Can we rewind? Go back to what we were just talking about before I got all jumpy? About you sleeping in the bed?"

"Okay."

She moved her fingers around his hand and squeezed it gently, "If you ever need to be close, it's okay if you come to sleep in my bed with me. This is your house too, Harry. It was your house first. I don't want you to feel lonely in your home. Just because you're… well, a spirit, that doesn't mean you deserve a life of isolation. I'm your friend now. Okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

Y/n found that having Harry around somehow inspired her and kept her focused. She'd gotten more work done than she had in a very long time. Perhaps it was just that there was another presence there with her, watching and paying attention. Somehow it seemed to keep her on task. He was quiet most of the day. He'd read or take walks outside and bring mushrooms back when he found them. In the evenings they'd chat and she often caught herself wishing he was a real live man because if she were being very honest he had all the qualities she'd want in a partner. But on top of that, he was tortuously handsome. And it seemed the more she knew of him the more attractive he was.

He was quite humorous at times, a natural storyteller. And it seemed he enjoyed making her smile. He listened to her talk as well and remembered every detail of every word she spoke. Like she was worth listening to. It's something she didn't often find with other people.

Sleeping next to him at night was also increasingly difficult as now there was a sentient and conscious being lying next to her when she was feeling a bit lustful (as did happen on occasion inevitably). But there was little she could do to satiate herself in her bed when Harry was there too.

So she wound up changing her schedule slightly, to have her showers at night and find relief under the warm stream of water before she climbed into bed with him, who took up a lot more space than one would assume a ghost would.

He was always perfectly polite. Too polite maybe. But then again she had no idea how that would work with him anyway. Yes, she could feel his skin and touch his clothes and once had the pleasure of running her fingers into his hair… but certainly they couldn't… get intimate?

Though, she'd imagined how his lips might feel or those big hands on her hips or her waist. She'd imagine his eyes peering at her as he undressed (she'd never seen him remove any clothing but she often wondered what was under his clothes). She knew it was wrong. Felt guilty for thinking about him like that.

But she was a warm-blooded woman with certain needs that every other woman had just the same. And Harry, ghost or not, was easy to look and he was even easier to trust.

He was sweet.

And she was ovulating.

So even taking care of herself in her shower didn't quite scratch the itch by the time she got into the bedroom to find Harry already sitting with the blankets over his lap and his back against the headboard and his nose in a book. It was like having a really hot friend who lived with you who you knew you could never do anything like that with.

"Feel better?" He asked her as he closed the book and watched her take off her sweater.

She didn't remember telling him she hadn't felt good before her shower. In fact, he hadn't ever asked her before if she felt better after her shower so it made her wonder if he was paying closer attention than she realized. Could he tell that she had a change in mood? That her hormones were fluctuating? Surely not.

"Um, I think a little better," she smiled and slid into the bed, wishing she could climb into his lap and lift up his sweater to feel his skin. She was curious about him and wondered if there was more to explore with him. Was there anything under the clothes? Did he ever have those natural human urges he likely had when he was living?

"You seem a little tense. Would you like a tea? I think camomile is good for helping you calm."

She sighed, "I'm just… yeah. A tea sounds good. Maybe that'll help."

Harry left her alone in her room and she watched as the light in the kitchen gently spread out and illuminated the hallway off the bedroom. With a few minutes to herself, she reached into her soft night pants and rubbed over her panties. It was risky and she knew he might return any minute but she was hidden by the covers over her lap.

And it felt good. Obviously, the shower had been nice but there was something about doing it in her own bed on a dry surface that was her favorite. And she was already wetting the material of her underwear as she pushed the fabric aside and pressed her fingers directly over her clit. She could be quick.

A quiet gasp fell from her lips when she began hitting the right spot, fingers quickly swiping back and forth, body heating, heart pounding.

But then he was there at the door with a steaming mug in his hands, standing still like he'd been the one to see a ghost. She was covered up but by the way he was looking at her…

She slowly moved her hand away and smiled, "Uh, that was fast. Thank you."

He placed the mug on the table next to her bed quietly and looked away from her, "I can give you some privacy. I'm sorry."

Oh. He knew what she was up to. She'd been so stupid to think she could rub one out fast enough without him realizing.

"No, I'm sorry. I… since you've been around, or since I knew you were here I have to kind of… God, I'm embarrassed," she put her face in her hands and groaned.

"Don't feel embarrassed. It's normal. Nothing shameful about any of that. I was a biology professor after all."

Y/n looked up at him, "You're always too nice, Harry. I feel so awful. You probably don't even… well… you know. Things are different for you now than when you were alive?"

He cocked his head to the side, "Things are different yes. But if you mean in terms of feeling stirred, aroused… I can -still. But it's been a very long time."

She swallowed, unable to quite comprehend how that was possible, "So… you, as a ghost, can like feel that way? Does your body react as well?"

He puffed out a laugh and looked down at the wood floors below his feet, "Yes. Mostly. I still have all the feelings and emotions within my consciousness as when I was alive. And yes, I feel it and it can be visible if I let it."

Visible. That did nothing to quell her growing curiosity.

"That's… I guess I don't really know much about spirits, but I'm surprised."

"To be honest, I don't know much about myself like this either. I just know I still feel emotions and physically can feel…. excited. And that I can only go as far as the perimeter of the land this house is on. If I step past the boundary I wind up back inside the house. You're the first person I've really interacted with. Everyone else was terrified. I don't blame them."

"You can come back if you want," she patted the spot on the bed next to her. "If I didn't make you uncomfortable. I'm good now I think. Sorry to make this weird."

"Are you sure? I can leave for a bit–"

"No. No, I'm over it now," she took a sip of the tea he'd made her. He always seemed to know exactly how to make her tea.

Harry pulled the blankets back and settled into bed next to her before she flicked off the light on her lamp.

"I'm sorry I interrupted."

"Don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong."

She wished she could ask him to hold her. Just to be in his arms, to know what that would feel like. And she was sure that if she asked he would because he was so kind. But he'd just caught her playing with herself and she felt like a pervert and she was sure he'd wonder what her intentions were. Hell, she wasn't even sure of her own intentions at that point.

So, she closed her eyes and tried to push down how embarrassed she felt and the subtle ache between her thighs. Perhaps she'd get on birth control so she wouldn't ovulate anymore. She felt out of control, led by her id, her hormones calling the shots.

Eventually, she found sleep, and for a while, she forgot all about her misdeed and her aroused state in exchange for much-needed rest.

But upon waking she found that she'd snuggled into Harry tightly. Her cheek smushed against the sweater over his chest and his arms were placed around her back. It felt like waking up in the arms of a real man. It was soft and cozy. She felt warm and safe.

She knew he could sleep. He told her as much so she wasn't sure if he was awake or not which was her reason to keep still and bask in the moment. As much as she loved her solitude, it hadn't dawned on her until then how much she missed human contact. It was lovely to feel him so close like that. He felt solid as if he had a real live body.

Slowly the light from the sun began to brighten her room as the morning grew later. She probably should get up but it was so hard to peel herself away from Harry. Not only did she not want to wake him, she wanted to enjoy him holding her for as long as she could.

"If you need to get up you can."

She startled, tilting her head back to look up at him, "I didn't know you were awake. I didn't want to -wake you."

He was cute. His face half-covered with her pillow as he looked down at her, "I know. But I am awake. You can stay here like this for as long as you like, though. I don't mind."

Harry adjusted his face into the pillow, pink lips set in a soft smile as he kept his eyes on hers. He was beautiful and she could think of nothing better to do in that moment than to reach her hand up to his neck and stretch up toward him so she could give him a quick peck on his mouth.

Maybe it was her sleepy brain or just the soft moment they were enveloped in together. Perhaps it was the way he was looking at her that did it. But whatever made her do it felt like something she needed to do. To feel.

And then he kissed her back. It was like kissing a man. A real live man. His palms slid over her back softly, upward to her shoulder blades as he continued moving his lips with hers. Gentle and slow. Sleepy.

It did nothing to make her hormones calm. Which just led to her sliding her hand down his sturdy chest and to his hip. She wouldn't take it too far, she was just curious what the skin under his sweater would feel like as she edged the tips of her fingers upward and he was still real underneath too. Taut skin and sinew over muscle and bone. Moving her palm higher up his stomach she found herself quite pleasantly surprised by the way he felt under her hand.

But he stopped abruptly, sitting up and clambering out of bed, "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did that. You… I'm really sorry."

She looked up at him from her spot on the bed and blinked her tired eyes, "Why are you sorry? I kissed you first."

"You did?" He shook his head, "I thought I started it. I'm not used to this. I don't know what I'm doing." He ran his hands into his hair and stepped around the bed toward the door, "I'm sorry. I think I need to… just some time to think."

She watched him walk away out of sight, blindsided by what had just happened. Of course, the whole thing was wild. It was insane even. He was a ghost. It wasn't like they could be together. She wished things were different, she really did. She needed to pull herself together. Harry had real feelings, he'd told her as much.

Taking a warm shower she tried to reason with herself about what had happened. But the more she considered it all, the more she wondered what a future would look like if she were to fall in love with a ghost. She didn't want to indulge in those thoughts but she couldn't help it. She didn't like being around people and rarely needed to leave her little house. Would it be so bad to just be with Harry? He was lonely and needed companionship just like she did and she really enjoyed his company. He seemed to be the perfect companion, the only issue being that he was technically dead. And she had no idea how a physical relationship would work but she was beginning to think, after that kiss, that was in fact possible.

She could stay "single" forever and if anyone asked why she never married or dated she'd just say she preferred to be alone. No one would need to know about Harry.

Y/n shook her head as she dried her hair. She was losing it. Why was her mind going there? Yes, maybe she was a little lonely at times, and he was kind and nice to talk to, and he was clearly a very attractive… specter. But he wasn't a living man.

Opening up her laptop after having made herself a tea, she tried to ignore the pit in her stomach. Harry hadn't come back. Or if he had he wasn't showing himself to her. Had it really been all that bad for them to kiss? Probably. She shouldn't have done it. And now he was the one who was spooked. She couldn't blame him. It'd been a long time since he'd had a person to even talk to who knew of his existence and the one that he finally does show himself to winds up developing silly feelings for him and wants to kiss.

Y/n hardly got any writing done that day. Harry stayed away. The house was quiet. She didn't want to push him to show himself or to talk to her. If he needed space, she'd give it to him.

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

She figured that the worst part about having a ghost was knowing he was there but not knowing where he was or what he was seeing her do. If he was even watching. Harry didn't return that first night nor the following day. He didn't sleep next to her in bed and he didn't prepare her tea.

She started to wonder if he was going to come back at all.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I hope you can forgive me and come back. I promise I'll never be so reckless again. I just had a lapse in judgment."

Her phone rang, startling her from her speech to her ghost. She had an inkling he was there and listening.

"Hello?"

It was her cousin Sil. She had promised to bring over a small kitchen table, something Y/n didn't have when she first moved into the house.

"Oh, tonight? Sure. Um… yeah. I'll be here."

She would be happy to have a kitchen table and chairs finally but she wasn't really up for company. Hopefully, Sil would be in and out quickly, though getting to her house in the woods was quite the drive.

"Harry, my cousin is coming to drop off some furniture. I'm just letting you know," she looked around the space and the room was empty and quiet still. Her heart dropped as she sighed.

But she had to stop moping and pull herself together before Sil arrived. She put on something a little nicer and swiped a little mascara onto her lashes before spritzing herself with her favorite perfume. Then she filled her kettle with fresh water and pulled down a couple of mugs and plates and then sliced up strawberries and cantaloupe.

She kept herself busy until she heard a knock at her door and put on a smile before opening it to see not only Sil, but a man wearing a thick flannel just behind her.

"This is Memo. He offered to help with the table. It's kind of heavy."

"Oh, of course! Thank you! And it's nice to meet you, Memo."

Y/n propped open the door and then she and Sil got to work carrying in the chairs as Memo shimmied the table inside on his own. When everything was set up in her little kitchen she was quite pleased with the way it looked.

"I love it. Thank you so much, Sil," she pulled her cousin in for a hug and then reached for Memo's arm and squeezed, "And I appreciate your help. Thank you."

"Your house is amazing. Ever get lonely living out here by yourself?"

Y/n looked up at the man and shrugged, "Um… not really. I like the peace out here. It's great for inspiration."

"She's a writer," Sil interjected, "Already has two published books and one on the way. She's the famous one I was talking about."

Y/n laughed and put her hand up, "I'm not famous. That's an exaggeration…"

"Well, she's a published author and her first book sold almost, what… like 50,000 copies?"

"That's average at best. I'm not… I'm lucky but I'm not anywhere near famous," Y/n looked at Memo and then at her cousin. "It pays the bills. And I love it, so…" She turned toward her kitchen counter, wanting to change the subject, "Would you guys care for some tea or coffee? I've got fruit sliced up as well?"

"I could go for some tea. Thank you, Y/n."

Memo smiled at her softly and her cousin raised her brows with a nod, "Sure. We'll stay a little longer."

Y/n prepared tea and placed the fruit and plates on her new kitchen table before joining Sil and Memo to sit. She learned that Memo was Sil's neighbor and when Y/n commented that she thought they were cute together Sil quickly corrected her cousin, "Oh, we're not… No," she laughed. "He's just a friend."

"I'm as single as they come," he winked at Y/n before taking another sip of his tea.

She found that to be a strange thing to say. Was he suggesting something? Y/n didn't know but she definitely wasn't interested. Her mind was still on Harry and wondering where he was, if he was watching everything.

When the fruit was all eaten and their mugs were dry Y/n got up to place everything in her sink and Memo followed, "I can help. Let me wash the dishes."

She looked back at Sil who was grinning, a raised brow in her direction. Y/n shook her head and rolled her eyes. Maybe it was a setup. She'd be nice but there was no way in hell–

"What the… shit!" Memo stepped back from the sink quickly and turned, his arms out exasperatedly.

He had water all over the front of his flannel and Y/n covered her mouth to hide her laugh.

"Something just… I turned on the water and it was like the stream just sprayed out right at me. Got all over my shirt!"

Sil stepped passed Memo and turned off the water then turned it back on to check, "Seems okay now. Maybe it was just air in the pipe or something?"

"Sorry. That has never happened. Would you like a towel?" Y/n offered.

"Yeah. If it's no bother."

When Y/n walked into the hallway to grab a towel she felt someone behind her. She brightened up as she turned, hoping to see Harry but found the other male standing there with her, plucking at his shirt.

"Here," she handed him a white towel, "I'm really sorry about your shirt."

Memo nodded as he dabbed at himself, "Yeah it's just water. My shirt'll be fine. Just a little embarrassed."

Y/n laughed, "Embarrassed? Why?"

"Got my shirt all well and startled everyone. Especially in front of a pretty girl. Little bit of a hit to my ego."

Y/n's brows stitched together, "Oh. Well, don't worry. I really don't care–"

"Would you… Well, we're about to leave and I thought maybe I could give you my number or something?"

There was no way she was going to call Memo or entertain anything more with him. But she decided to play dumb and just go along with it. She'd take his number and then lose it. Not that he wasn't a good-looking guy. And he was probably perfectly nice (he seemed nice). In a different world, one where she was more outgoing and liked to meet new people, maybe she'd actually be interested.

"Uh…"

Suddenly the hallway light flicked on and her TV came on in the living room, volume all the way up. The lamp in the corner flashing on and off and then on again.

Y/n quickly slid past Memo to turn her television off, one hand cupping her ear as she aimed the remote at her TV.

Sil looked spooked as she stepped out of the kitchen and then Memo suddenly rushed in, tripping as he cursed, "What the fuck?"

Everyone stood in shock staring at one another when all the lights in the house went off and Memo gasped, "Shit! What is that?!" The sound of someone running into her coffee table and something slamming into the wall had Y/n rushing to flick her lights back on.

Memo was swinging into the air on his ass next to the wall, "Something just pushed me against the wall!"

Sil put her hand out to help Memo stand up and then looked back at Y/n in worry, "Is this place like… haunted? What was that?"

She shook her head, "I don't know. You guys should probably leave, though. I'll clean up. I'm really sorry about this."

Memo stepped toward Y/n, "You need to come with us. It's not safe. It felt like someone grabbed my shirt and pushed me… slammed me! Whatever it is, is very strong and very angry."

Shaking her head she looked from her cousin to Memo, "No. I'll be fine. I promise."

It took a little convincing for Sil and Memo to accept that Y/n wasn't going to be leaving with them with Sil pouting and giving her a long hug outside, "Are you sure? I'm going to call you when we get back. I'm really worried about what just happened in there."

"I'll be fine. Okay? You don't need to worry about anything."

When they were down the street Y/n let out a breath and closed her eyes. She knew exactly what had happened in there.

It was Harry. Her gentle, easily spooked ghost, who had somehow flipped a switch and scared the shit out of Memo and her cousin.

When she stepped inside she straightened out her coffee table and looked around the living room, "Harry? Please come out and talk to me. I need to see you, okay? I'm not mad about what you just did but I think we need to talk about it. About why you did that."

She was startled when she turned and there he was. She had expected to need to plead with him for a little longer.

"I'm sorry."

Looking up at him Y/n shook her head, "Why did you do that? Was it because you didn't like him? Memo?"

He nodded, "I didn't like how he was looking at you when you'd turn away. Like you were a piece of meat or something. He was flirting with you."

She smiled, "You didn't like him flirting with me?"

"It's just that… I don't know," Harry turned and ran his fingers into his hair, "I'm stuck. I don't get to have anything good but people like… Memo," he spat the name like it was bitter in his mouth, "Get to enjoy whatever they want." He turned to look at her again, "He could have you if he wanted. It's so easy for him."

"Well, you're wrong. He can't have me if I'm not interested, which I'm not. Not my type."

"He's not?"

She shook her head, "No."

Harry groaned and looked down at the floor, "Doesn't matter anyway, does it? No matter how I feel about anything, about you… I don't get to have you. I don't get to fall in love and live happily ever after. I've made it so that I'll suffer in sadness forever. This is what I deserve for what I did to myself. Might as well watch you fall in love with another man while I'm at it."

Stepping toward him, she slowly reached her hand out toward his, "Hey, look at me."

She swore it was like looking at a real man. His eyes were so green and so sad as he placed his gaze on hers. "Is that what you want? That we could be –together?"

"Doesn't matter what I want."

She took his hand in hers, "Yes it does. It matters. You matter to me. And to be honest," she shrugged, keeping her eyes on his, "As long as I'm here and you're here, I don't think I need anyone else."

Frown lines carved in between his eyes as he looked down at her hand, "You can't say that. You don't know. I can't give you what you need."

"And what is it you think I need that you can't give me?"

"A real relationship. I couldn't meet your family or… anyone. I couldn't –touch you. Not really. I know this doesn't feel the same," he squeezed at her fingers. "It's not warm. It's not real. And if you wanted to have a family… well obviously I can't give you that either."

"Your hand feels pretty real to me, Harry. It's not quite as warm as if you were flesh and blood but you're firm against my skin. I feel you. And that kiss… I can't stop thinking about how nice it was. I liked that. I like how you did it."

"Really?"

A wider grin spread over her face as she watched the edge of his lip quirk upward, "And I've never wanted kids anyway so I don't care about that."

"You don't?"

Shaking her head she smiled, "Never. But we haven't known each other all that long so you wouldn't have known that about me. You also wouldn't have known that I don't really like going out unless I have to. It's why I bought this house. To be away from people. But I do get lonely so when I met you it felt like a special gift."

"When you moved in it did feel different for me too. I wanted to be your friend right off."

"See? We can be friends. We can maybe even be more. I know it's weird probably… I'm not particularly normal, though. But… I was already imagining what it might be like. You and me. It's not perfect but life isn't perfect and maybe we can find some happiness together."

Harry had been jealous of Memo, Y/n had figured that much. He hadn't really hurt him, just scared him. And in a way, she was glad that he was spooked and left relatively quickly so she didn't have to take his number and then sit in that awkward moment where she didn't give him hers back or have to explain later to her cousin why she never called him.

What would she use as her reason? Well, she'd probably simply just say she wasn't interested. But knowing Sil, there would be some pushback – You don't even really know him. He's the sweetest! Give him one date…

The real explanation, which she'd be unable to express, would be that she had already met someone and she wanted to find out what would happen with it. That the ghost that lived in her house with her, the one who'd pushed Memo, was warmer, sweeter, smarter, and more handsome than Memo by leaps and bounds.

Not that Memo wasn't a catch. But Y/n liked Harry much more. Even if he was a ghost. And maybe him being a ghost was better for her in a way. Of course, she was insane. Perhaps if she were a more well-adjusted person with healthy relationships she'd be interested in living men. But most men made her uncomfortable.

"What if –we just see?" Y/n placed her hand on his arm over his sweater as she kept his hand in hers, "Would that be okay with you?"

"I just don't think I can satisfy you how you need."

"So far you've done a great job of making me happy. I haven't felt this way about someone before. It's unconventional, yes, I know. But so what?"

He turned to face her, "So what…" he mimicked her words before he moved his hand to place at her hip. She could feel the weight of it on her side, "I can kiss you again?"

"Yes, Harry. Please do."

He leaned down slowly before she felt his nose bump into hers and then his lips press over her mouth. And it was sweet and emotional. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close as if he realized suddenly he couldn't let her get away.

It was different than kissing someone with skin and warm blood and saliva on their tongue. But she could feel it. Feel him pressed into her, his body his mouth, his hands on her back. She could feel his neck on her palm and it might have just been better than any other kiss ever. Because it was Harry she was kissing.

She felt him open his mouth and close his lips around her bottom lip, felt him poke his tongue against hers… so different but still it was real and so nice. He was conscious and he was kissing her and holding her.

Y/n pushed her hand up his neck and let her fingers card through his hair, whispy silk between her fingers. Every bit of him had mass even if it didn't feel quite the same, it was so close and that only excited her, made her insides light up and liquify.

She could tell he really seemed to enjoy it too, small moans fell from his throat as he brought a hand up to her jaw and kissed downward to her neck. Like he knew what he was doing. But he did know, didn't he? He was once a man, living on earth, meeting women and no doubt had at least some experience.

Y/n couldn't imagine that someone who looked like Harry would have trouble in that department. So he knew what he was doing.

And when he moved against her hips she felt a solid lump under his pants poking against her. Even though he said that it could be visible and that he could feel aroused, it still surprised her. Especially that she could feel it. A decent-sized lump. And she wouldn't classify that as just a lump either… more like the bulge of a man who was nicely endowed.

Her body was hot. She needed more. Gripping onto his back she pasted herself against him, letting him curve around her as he kissed her neck and her jaw. He was better than any man she'd met already. Sensual and full of emotion.

When he placed his mouth back against hers she realized that her back was pressed into the wall. She hadn't even realized they'd moved at all. With a moan, she raised her leg and hitched her thigh over his hip. Part of her thought that might deter him or make him stop. Maybe he'd be too shy or he'd tell her they didn't need to do that, but what happened instead was that he went in harder, hips glued to hers as he reached down to grasp her thigh to keep it in place.

And now the swollen bulge was pressed over her dress right where her pelvis was and he rocked against her.

"Oh god… Harry…." her words were mushed into his mouth as he kept kissing her.

"Y/n…"

"Let's go to bed."

Again, she thought perhaps it might be too much for him. That he'd try and slow down or maybe he'd back away… But she gasped when he picked her up and held her under her thighs and brought her to the bedroom. Like he'd just been waiting for permission and the shy and conflicted man from earlier was all but gone.

Her head was placed on her pillow, with his palm under her neck as he smothered her mouth with his. Y/n moved her legs apart for him and he settled against her, using his free hand to clasp over her hip.

It felt so good to be with him that way. It was exciting and soft and it made her insides ache. Reaching down for the button on his trousers he parted from the kiss and looked down at her hands as she pulled his pants open.

"I don't know if… it's gonna be different. I haven't done this before. Like this."

"It's okay. Will it feel good for you?"

He nodded, "Yes. I can still feel like that. Just don't know what'll be like for you."

Y/n bit her lip and pushed herself up, "I'm gonna take off my dress. Okay?"

"Okay. Should I… I don't know what to do."

It was funny that only moments before he was carrying her to the bed but now he was unsure of himself once again. She figured it would take some getting used to, "Can your clothes come off? Is it possible?"

"Yes. Should I take them off?"

Y/n smiled and cupped his cheek, "If you want to. If you want to find out what it'll feel like with me. It's up to you."

He nodded and pulled at his sweater, bringing it up over his head and Y/n reached for his torso, smoothing her hand up to his pecs and shoulders. He was fit and looked strong. Tattoos on his chest and his arms. It wasn't what she expected exactly. She had seen the peek of tattoos on his hand but hadn't imagined he had many more. She'd been wrong.

Lifting herself she slid her dress off and unplucked her bra to get rid of the uncomfortable thing, tossing them to the floor as she watched him bring his pants down. He had on blue boxer shorts. She didn't want to let her mind go there, but she wondered if those were the last clothes he wore as a living person. Most likely.

He looked at her, searching her face and then his gaze dropped over her body. Her breasts, her tummy, her panties. She reached for his hand to place on her breast, "What does it feel like?"

Harry blinked his eyes closed, "It feels real." He reached up with his other hand to cup her opposite side and softly massaged, opening his eyes to watch as his palms smushed and slid over her skin.

Y/n inhaled as she let him group and knead. The gentle fondling was perfect.

Harry adjusted his position, bending his knees as he leaned in and looked at her, mouth nearing her nipple, "Can I?"

Nodding she placed her hand in his hair when she felt his mouth on her tit. She could hardly tell the difference. It wasn't wet and warm but his mouth was on her. He switched sides and focused on her nipple.

"Fuck… Harry that feels good."

Looking up at her he pulled away, "Does it?"

"Yes. You're really good. I like this. How do you feel?"

"I like it too. A lot. I feel…" he shook his head, lips parted, "Like a man. Like I'm alive again."

Y/n reached down for his thigh and ran her hand upward, "Can I touch you too?"

He looked down at his lap, blue boxer shorts tented from his erection as he nodded and shifted to his knees so he could bring them down and off.

And fuck if he just didn't look completely real. Like a live man with a big cock and soft green eyes looking at her for approval.

Y/n got to her knees and dragged her hands down his chest and over the silky bits of hair, "You're very handsome. I've never seen a more attractive man, Harry. Everything about you…"

When her palm found the underside of him there was weight to it. Bulk. She was having a difficult time understanding it all. That he wasn't flesh, nor alive, but that he was conscious and he was solid. The moment her palm dragged upward on his length, fingers curling around his shaft he sputtered a deep moan.

"Feels good?"

He nodded, "Just like when I… from a long time ago."

"When you were still alive? When you had a woman in your bed with you?"

He nodded again, "Yes."

"Good. I want to make you feel good."

He moaned again as she worked her fist over him. He was long and he had girth. A very nice cock for a ghost, she laughed to herself about how her inner dialogue was working itself out.

"I want to make you feel good too," he placed a hand at her hip over her cotton panties and she smiled at him. Of course, he did. Harry seemed like a giver. That much she did know.

Releasing him from her hand, she peeled her panties off and Harry quickly pushed her down to the bed and tucked in between her legs, hands sliding up her inner thighs, "You're so pretty."

Y/n giggled and turned her eyes to her ceiling. No one would ever believe she was doing something like this. Hell, she hardly believed it herself. When she looked back at Harry she pulled his hand to bring up to her center, "You can touch if you want. In fact, you can do whatever you like. I trust you."

His lips parted as he grazed his fingertips through her labia and kept his eyes on her pussy. Soft strokes up and down like he was inspecting until he slid his pointer finger up to her clit and looked into her eyes as he started to circle, "You're getting wet. That feels good?"

A laugh puffed from her lips as she nodded, "It feels so good. You make me wet, Harry."

His brows pinched together as he leaned over her body to kiss her, fingers still gently circling her bud. She reached down to stroke him in her hand, making him moan into her mouth.

He thrust into her hand softly as he pressed a finger inside of her. She inhaled sharply, "Yes…"

"Yeah?" He panted against her mouth, finger tucked inside of her thrusting as she pumped him the best she could with the angle.

And he might have been a ghost but when he added another finger the gushy sound her pussy made couldn't be mistaken. As if something solid was plunging into her. Which made her certain his dick would be the same. Better.

Pushing at his chest he backed away from the kiss as she pulled his shaft, angling his tip at her mons, just above where he was pumping his fingers into her, "You can if you want. I think it'll feel good."

He didn't say anything but when he pulled his fingers out and grasped around his cock, hand over hers he kept his pupils pinned to her eyes as he dragged his tip through her pussylips and down to her opening.

The moment he began to penetrate they both dropped their mouths open. It felt just like it should. Two people connecting with their bodies and their emotions. The friction felt different inside of her but she could feel the weight and the circumference of him slowly sliding into her walls.

As he blew out a harsh breath, she could feel it on her neck. It wasn't humid nor warm, but she felt the draft against her skin as he buried in.

"Can you feel me?"

Y/n reached her hands around his back, "I can feel all of you. Keep going."

He dropped his hips down against hers, pushing himself in and then easing back, dragging through her insides deliciously.

"I can feel how wet it is around me. So warm… Squeezing…"

She panted as she placed her feet flat on the mattress and rolled up against him, her clit pressing into his pelvis as he rocked into her so gently. So easy and so soft, but the swollen length inside of her was anything but soft. She felt every inch of it as he worked in and pulled back.

"It's so hard. Harry, you feel so good," she mewled before he pushed his lips against hers again.

Her old bed creaked in time with his languid pace. He held her tight, one hand at the back of her head and the other wrapped under her back as he fucked himself into her warm, gummy channel.

As fantastic as Y/n felt she imagined for him it was even better. He could feel her temperature and the moisture of her arousal, he could feel the tightness of her around him as he drove into her and surely he could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

She was in heaven. Y/n would swear off men forever if she could have this with Harry. They could have soft, lazy days together in silence, go mushroom hunting together in the afternoons, and have deep conversations about the world and biology and books they'd read… then go to bed together every night with full hearts. She'd be satisfied with him. It didn't matter what people thought of her. The strange woman who moved into the woods to live alone, never married or had kids, never had an interest in dating…

He grunted as he began to plunge in harder. He was feeling it. Just like any man would. His release, whatever that might look like for a ghost, was coming. She lifted her hips against his thrusts as he wound his lips around her slowly. The faster he moved his hips and worked into her the louder her mattress squeaked under her.

She gasped as he ground into her, swiveling his hips and groaning into her mouth, "Right there…" She panted.

If he kept his pelvis against her clit she'd come, "Don't stop. Just like that…"

So he rocked against her like she wanted, pelvis pasted to her clit as he tucked in deeper and filled her insides with his sturdy mass. She felt his hand move down, fingers wrapping around the back of her neck as she ran her tongue against his.

With their bodies glued together, Harry's big cock stuffing her and his hips down against hers she began to shake. He flexed his glutes and thighs as he continued sliding into her, raking against her walls, patting against her softly when her metal headboard started to hit her wall with every other plunge.

Harry stopped abruptly but Y/n draped a leg over his low back and pressed her hands into his bum, "Keep going. I'm gonna come…"

Shifting against her he prodded into her guts that time, making her hiss as he dragged his lips down to her neck.

"Oh fuck…" she moaned into the dark room as he plowed into her tummy, sucking on her delicate skin between panted breaths.

She loved how it felt to have him curled around her like that, arm holding her close, hips pressed against hers as his thighs pushed against the underside of her own. She loved how he did it so tenderly but so needy.

Because it'd been a long long time since he'd had sex. The poor guy had been moping in the shadows for so long, he deserved a warm pussy to enjoy. He deserved her.

When she started to come her lips parted and she sobbed his name. She also hadn't had sex in a long time. Not with another person anyway. And Harry was just as much a man (more so even) than what she'd had in the past. He grunted against her neck as she arched into him, her pussy clenching and sucking him in as she released around him.

He whimpered and then moaned loudly and suddenly he pulled his arm from under her back and took both hands to hold her hips down as he pounded into her, the frame of her bed slapping into the wall and creaking loudly as he came. His big cock was pushing into her depth, bulbous head dragging into her guts as he orgasmed. He gasped and panted as he rutted in and then stilled his hips as he bottomed out inside of her.

She rather enjoyed the way he manhandled her at the end. Holding her down so he could fuck into her to finish himself off like that. The gruff noises he was making and the pinch of pain she felt from having something so hard and so big drill into her tummy was actually quite pleasant. Satisfying.

And just as if he were alive and needed oxygen in his lungs, his chest was heaving as he looked down at he, letting go of her hips, pulling her up into his arms, and dragging her into his lap.

"Are you okay?" He asked her as he kissed her cheek and placed his palm on the back of her head.

She wrapped her arms around his torso, "I'm so good. That was so good, Harry."

He looked at her, holding her face in his hands, "It was?"

Nodding she ran her fingers up his back, "The best."

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

Y/n would have loved to tell everyone about her boyfriend. About how happy she was and how amazingly well they got along. But she couldn't. Because if she did some of the more nosy ones (her mom for example) would want to meet him. Would want to invite him over for a family dinner so everyone could meet him.

And when she'd have to tell her mom that he wouldn't be joining them for dinner she'd be convinced that he was a lowlife. A deadbeat. Which was the furthest thing from the truth.

No. He's not a flake. He's a ghost.

So, she just told everyone she was happiest single. That men were garbage anyway (that was true).

She was happy. And so was Harry.

"I feel like this is what I was supposed to do. Meet you in the afterlife. Well, my afterlife. So our timelines would fit together."

Y/n grinned and dropped a mushroom into her basket, "I think so too. We were meant to meet, weren't we?"

Harry smiled and looked up at the sun poking through the canopy of the trees above, "It's all I ever wanted."

Y/n took his hand and looked up at the trees with him. Most of them had lost their leaves as the weather was turning chillier. This was the time of year, Harry said, that his favorite mushrooms were out. Chicken of the woods and oyster. She was going to saute them with butter and eat with the pot of lentil soup she had started before they went out to forage.

Squeezing his hand and leaning into his arm she turned her gaze from the trees to her handsome ghost, "It's all I ever wanted too."

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

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[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Love Me Again

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut

Exes to lovers - this was requested so I hope you like it!!

To be completely honest, Lando doesn't even know what happened that night one year ago. He knows very well that he drank too much, got drunk like never before and that the next day he lost you.

You came to his apartment and found a hair band in the bathroom that wasn't yours. Lando knew whose hair tie it was, but he tried to hide it from you and convince you that it was yours. Of course with that, he only made things worse. The fact that he decided to lie about it hurt you even more.

You threatened to leave him immediately if he didn't tell you what happened the night before and who spent the night in his apartment. It didn't take long for Lando to break down and tearfully tell you that one of his girl friends spent the night at his place after going out. The morning after, he barely remembered anything, but he could have sworn that he hadn't even kissed her, let alone slept with her.

His only fault was that he brought her with him to the apartment and let her sleep there, but even that was more than enough for you to break your heart into a thousand pieces.

You knew which female friend it was. You never even liked her and even though Lando always told you that you had no reason to be jealous, it annoyed you that she was throwing herself at him every chance she got when the two of you were together.

She was too close to him for your liking and then when you heard that she was the one who slept over at his place that night when he was dead drunk, it was over for you.

Lando cried, despaired, begged you to forgive him for months, trying to convince you that for him there was only you, but you couldn't get over your pride and forgive him. In the end, you even believed him that maybe there really wasn't anything between the two of them, but the trust was broken between the two of you and it couldn't be fixed anymore.

Since you two were together for two and a half years before you broke up, you were very close to his family. They adored you and considered you a member of the family. They couldn't believe that you broke up, even they begged you to forgive him, but even though you decided not to, you still remained on good terms with them and continued to hang out from time to time.

And just like that you found yourself on a huge luxury yacht celebrating Mila's third (idk how old is she??) birthday together with Lando and his family. It was a three-day celebration in the small circle of family and for the sake of that you decided to remain calm and behave normally around Lando.

It wasn't easy for you to be so close to him yet so far away. It was even worse for him, but he enjoyed having you around. Of course he tried in every way to reach you, approach you, talk to you, he did everything just to get your attention. From time to time he would succeed, you would find it funny how he tried everything, so you would give in and engage into a conversation with him.

On the last night, everyone went to bed pretty early because they were exhausted from celebrating, swimming and sunbathing for the past three days, but you weren't so exhausted, so you decided to stay in the lounge area of ​​the yacht and be with yourself for a while. The sky was beautiful, full of shining stars and the feeling was so peaceful. You closed your eyes for a moment, but not for long because you were soon startled by none other than Lando's voice.

"You decided to sleep under the sky tonight?" He asked making himself comfortable on the sofa next to you.

"No, I was just enjoying looking at it."

"With your eyes closed?" He mocked.

"What else do you want other than to disturb my peace?" You roll your eyes sitting up from the lying position.

"I was very hot, so I couldn't sleep. Thought I'd come here to the pool to cool off" He says looking at the pool in front of you.

"It's like" You take a look at your phone to check the time. "Almost 1 a.m. and you're going to get in the pool now?"

"Yeah, wanna join me?" He smirks.

"No, thank you." You laugh rolling your eyes at him again.

He gets up from the sofa and begins to remove his shorts, leaving only his boxers on. You were a little embarrassed and you didn't expect him to start undressing in front of you, so you cleared your throat and looked away.

"C'mon, it's nothing you haven't seen before, y/n" He mocks seeing how flushed your cheeks got.

"I'm going to my room, you have fun" You say getting up and fixing your oversized t-shirt that served as your night gown.

"No, come on, stay, keep me company." He pleaded before stepping into the pool. "Please?"

It didn't take long for him to persuade you to stay, because you secretly wanted to, you just didn't want to admit it so you sat down on the edge of the pool dipping your feet into the water as you watched him slowly threw himself in. Diving under the water he swam closer to you.

"You enjoying yourself?" You ask paddling your feet.

"It would be even better if you jumped in with me" He says placing his hands on the edge on either side of you.

"Not a chance" You resist pushing him a little with your feet. He chuckles biting his lip and taking your foot in his hand pulling you to himself a little.

"Lando, don't you dare" You warn him when you feel yourself slide down a little.

"You're not wearing any shorts?" He asks tilting his head to the side to peek under your t-shirt. You gasp quickly closing your legs and pulling your shirt down.

"You're so inappropriate, get away from me" You push his chest with your feet pushing him away from yourself only for to swim back to you again.

"Did you have any fun these past three days?" He asked curiously.

"I did, I have always enjoyed spending time with your family. It was good to see everyone again."

"Even me?"

You stop and sigh softly at his question not wanting to look him in the eye. it still hurts, stings. You'd be lying if you said you weren't glad to see him. You still love him after all, but you're still not sure if you want to forgive him.

"I'd rather not answer that"

He can't hide the hurt look in his eyes after your statement, but he also doesn't want to push you away from him by bringing certain topics up again.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, but I had a talk with Mila today and she told me that I am all you talk about. She says it's getting too much even for her to listen to you" Lando being Lando, of course, turns everything into a joke just to lighten the mood. You can't help but burst out laughing at the nonsense that he was saying just to say something.

"There we go, that's the laugh I wanted to hear" You blush at his caring words hiding your face in your shoulder. He takes a risk and places his hands over your knees slowly pulling them apart to stand between them and you surprise both of you when you let him.

"Lando.." You sigh hesitantly when he slowly puts his hands on your waist and pulls you closer to him.

"Please, let me" Before you could even ask him let you what?, he pulled you down into the pool with him. You gasped and your skin crawled as the slightly cold water soaked your t-shirt making it clung to your body.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" You were breathing rapidly trying to grab the edge to get out, but Lando pulled you by your waist closer to his body.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay"

"You're completely crazy" Your mouth complains, but your body responds differently to his touch especially when he moves one of his hands from your hip to your leg making them wrap around his torso.

"That's better" He says quietly glancing at your lips. You have to admit you feel a little uncomfortable, especially with his lips less than two centimeters away from yours. You haven't been this physically close to each other in over a year and you've almost forgotten what it feels like to feel his skin on yours. "It's just me" He whispers and it somehow calms you down when you remember that it's Lando, your Lando.

"Lando, you can't do this.." You say, but wrap your arms around his neck hiding your gaze in the crook of his neck. Your gesture encourages him so he hugs you tighter and gently kisses you on the cheek.

"Baby, I miss you so much" Your heart trembles at his choice of words. "I'm losing my mind without you" His voice breaks when you look at him and he moves your hair out of your face. Your fingers make gentle circular motions over the back of his head as you press your foreheads together.

"I swear only hope that one day you'll love me again keeps me sane" He continues.

"I've never even stopped" You quietly confess.

Even if he tried, he couldn't describe the feeling of hearing that from your mouth. He felt as if he had come alive again after such a long time.

He couldn't hold back anymore, everything in him was dying to feel you, to kiss you so he crashed his lips against yours and kissed you the way you kiss a person you love more than your life, but haven't been able to touch in more than a year.

You didn't even think about resisting anymore, you gave in and kissed him back with the same force. He walked with your legs still wrapped around him to the edge of the pool pressing against you with your back against it. His hands quickly slipped under your shirt exploring your body again after so long enjoying the sound of your moans.

"Please..please tell me that no one..has touched you..no one but me" His voice was quivering as he tried to get the question out to which he wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer to.

Lando was your first. First in everything basically. And he was so proud of it. He loved your innocence and the fact that no one had ever made you feel the way he did. You were all his and that's why he had a particularly strong protective feeling towards you. And he probably would lose his mind if he heard that someone else had touched something that only belonged to him.

"No one but you" You panted making him go feral.

His hands went under your butt gripping it before his fingertips moved your panties aside. He grinded his crotch into yours nibbling at the skin of your neck.

"Lan.." You moaned wanting more, but hating to ask for it. Luckily he knows your body like the back of his hand and knows what you need very well so he slipped his middle finger inside of you. One was soon replaced by two making you throw your head back giving him full access to bite and suck on your neck.

"Fuck.." He hissed as the aching feeling in his cock kicked in desperately needing to be touched. "Baby, I need to feel you or else I'm going to explode" He grunts.

"Let's get out of the pool, yeah? We can't fuck in here"

He lifted you up from the water sitting you onto the edge before getting out of the pool himself. You took off your wet shirt leaving yourself only in soaked panties and a bra. He looked you in from head to toe before pulling you to him and laying you down on the sofa hovering over you.

As he pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung off you looked down at him with a slight concern in your gaze and he noticed it.

"What, baby? Is everything okay?" He asked leaning down to kiss you caressing your cheek.

"Yeah, it's just..it's been a while.." His gaze softened and he smiled pressing a kiss to your forehead to calm you down.

"We'll take it slow, okay?" He assured you. He pulled down your bra taking your tits out and attaching his lips around your nipples and with every passing second of him doing so you were getting wetter and wetter. He then took his cock in his hand rubbing his tip over your pussy up and down a few times hissing at the sensation.

He stopped at the center and felt you getting nervous as your breathing quickened. "It's alright, baby, I know you want this, I can feel how wet you are. I'll go slow, I promise."

He slowly pushed the tip in planting kisses along your jawline to distract you from the pain. He pushed a little further and you squeezed your eyes whimpering and holding your hands against his chest.

"It hurts Lan, it's too big.." You cried out trying to close your legs so he put his hand on your cheek gently caressing it. It took everything in him not to cum right away at you complimenting his length.

"Shh, I know, baby, but you have to let me in okay? We'll make it fit, yeah? Like we always used to" He cooed you pushing your legs further apart. "Just a little bit more and it's fully in. You can take it, love, I know you can."

Little by little and he pushed all of himself in staying still until you felt comfortable enough for him to move. "That's it, just like that, baby, always such a good girl for me" He was so impatient to fuck you, to cum all over or inside you it didn't matter to him, but he decided to take his time with you because he wanted you to feel good above everything else.

Once the pain was replaced by the feeling of pleasure, he started thrusting in deep and fast stretching you out in the way only he knew how. When you felt confident enough you wrapped your legs around his torso to push him even deeper.

"Does it feel good?" He asked and you nodded. "This reminds me so much of that time I fucked you on the couch in my parent's house."

"Ohh, Lando” You moaned.

"Where anybody could've walked in on us and see me pounding you from behind. Fuck, you have no idea how much this turns me on.." He groaned.

"I missed all of you, missed fucking you, feeling you squeeze my cock, playing with your pussy, oh" His words were coming out as broken sobs struggling to last as long as possible. "I feel you clenching are you almost there, love?"

"So close"

"Yeah? You're drenching my cock baby. You're so tight, fuck, I'm gonna cum in seconds."

"Ohh..yes yes, ahh"

"Oh shit baby.." Once he saw you slide you hand down to your clit and start playing with it, he lost it. His body shuddered, his cock twitched inside you and he came undone. He kept moving slowly until both of you rode out your orgasms.

When both of you came to your senses he started hugging you and kissing you as if you were going to run away every second. You leaned your head to the side and watched him smiling.

"So..does this mean you're mine again?" He asks tracing his fingertips over your collarbones.

"It does not, but" You emphasize. "If you try a bit harder maybe you can change my mind"

"Understood. Let's get you cleaned up for round two then"

"Lando, that's not what I meant…”

[leejenowrld]

after all this time?

word count — 8.2k

genre — smut, fluff 

synopsis — you run into jeno, your ex, at a college party. despite a tough breakup, the spark between you never faded. after a night of reconnecting and reigniting, you realize some feelings are too deep to ever truly go away.

warnings — explicit sexual content, explicit language and swearing, sexual themes, intense emotional scenes, reconciliations and reunions, don’t expect unnecessary and forced angst, this is a story of two emotionally mature and intelligent lovers, communication communication!!,  oral sex, unprotected sex (stay safe!!), intense smut scenes with themes of dominance and submission, scenes depicting emotional vulnerability and deep angst, themes of unhealed emotional wounds and confrontations, mentions of past relationship trauma and heartbreak, hea!! 

“After all this time, you still love me?” you whisper, your gaze intently searching his for confirmation.

He nods, his response quick and unwavering, infused with a depth of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. “After all this time,” he affirms softly.

──────────────────────────────

The muffled thump of music grew louder as you and Yeji approached the house, the bass reverberating through the cool night air. It was your first night on campus, and the idea of starting over had already filled you with enough nervous energy to last a lifetime. Transferring halfway through your academic course wasn’t something you’d planned, but circumstances had changed, and now, so had you. 

Your arms were interlocked with Yeji’s, her presence steady and reassuring. You shot her a thankful smile, feeling a rush of gratitude wash over you. You hadn’t expected to make friends so quickly, especially on your first day, but Yeji had greeted you with a warmth that immediately put you at ease. Her bright, welcoming smile and easygoing attitude made the transition less daunting, and now, with her by your side, you felt like maybe—just maybe—things would be okay.

As you glanced around, the neighborhood was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, the shadows of swaying trees flickering against the sidewalks. The crispness of the autumn night lingered in the air, a reminder that you were stepping into a new chapter of your life. A party wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined spending your first night, but Yeji had insisted. 

“You’ll get to know people this way,” she’d said, her voice light and encouraging. And now, despite your doubts, here you were, standing outside a house that seemed to pulse with life from within.

The house itself was large, the kind of place that screamed "party central" the moment you laid eyes on it. Soft, colorful lights spilled from the windows, casting a warm, inviting glow across the front yard. You could see silhouettes moving behind the windows, the faint murmur of laughter and conversation blending with the steady beat of the music. It looked like one of those classic college parties you’d only seen in movies—people standing in clusters, drinks in hand, and a general air of excitement buzzing through the night.

You adjusted the strap of your dress nervously, feeling the weight of the newness pressing down on your shoulders. A party had never really been your scene, especially not on the first night in an unfamiliar place, but something about this moment felt different. You weren’t the same person who avoided stepping out of her comfort zone. You were here now, and you wanted to make the most of it.

“Ready?” Yeji’s voice broke through your thoughts, her eyes shining with anticipation as she glanced over at you. Her energy was infectious, and you found yourself nodding, despite the tight knot of anxiety still sitting in your chest.

You took a deep breath, letting the sounds of the night fill your senses—the distant hum of cars passing, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the faint echo of laughter from the house. It was all part of this new world you were stepping into, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the stirrings of excitement mingling with your nerves.

“Let’s do this,” you said, your voice more confident than you felt.

As the two of you made your way toward the front door, you could feel the energy of the party radiating outward. The door opened, and a wave of warmth hit you, both from the inside heat and the buzz of life within. The soft glow of string lights hanging from the ceiling gave the place a laid-back, cozy atmosphere, contrasting with the thrumming music that vibrated through the walls.

Inside, the house was packed. People filled every available space—some lounging on couches, drinks in hand, others gathered in small groups, laughing and talking. The smell of something sweet and a little smoky hung in the air, and the chatter mixed with the pulse of the music, creating a kind of chaotic harmony. You scanned the room, taking it all in—the casual, carefree smiles of people you didn’t know yet, the flash of colorful cups clinking together, and the low, heady buzz of excitement that seemed to swirl through the crowd.

Yeji led you through the throng, her hand still hooked around your arm as she navigated the party with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times before. She moved with confidence, offering smiles and waves to people she knew as she guided you through the maze of bodies, all the while keeping a reassuring presence by your side.

You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, like you were watching everything unfold from the outside. The laughter, the easy conversations, the way people moved around each other like they belonged—it all felt like a world you hadn’t quite stepped into yet. But being here, surrounded by this energy, made you want to dive in, to be part of it.

“This is it,” Yeji said, smiling as she pulled you to a stop near the kitchen, where a makeshift bar had been set up. Bottles of every kind of alcohol lined the counters, and a few people were mixing drinks with practiced ease. “What do you think?”

You glanced around, feeling the pulse of the party in your bones, the music reverberating through the floor beneath your feet. “It’s… a lot,” you admitted with a laugh, feeling the tension in your chest start to loosen just a little. “But it’s good.”

Yeji grinned, squeezing your arm. “That’s the spirit. Let’s grab a drink and have some fun.”

You nodded, taking another deep breath as you let yourself be pulled into the flow of the night. The unfamiliar faces, the hum of excitement, the newness of it all—it didn’t feel quite as overwhelming anymore. You were here, in this moment, and maybe, just maybe, it was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Who’s house party is this?” you ask, glancing around. The question lingers in the air for a moment as Yeji opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, you bump headfirst into someone’s chest, your momentum nearly knocking his drink out of his hand.

You stumble slightly, your hands flying up in reflex to steady yourself. His chest is firm—hard, even—and your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you take a step back, wide-eyed. You open your mouth to apologize, but the words get stuck in your throat when you look up.

At first, his expression is one of annoyance, his brow furrowed as he glances down at you. But then his eyes meet yours, and everything shifts. His features soften, and time seems to slow down, the noise of the party fading into the background as the two of you stare at each other, frozen in place. His gaze flickers over your face, taking in every detail, and you can see the moment recognition dawns in his eyes.

“Jeno,” you breathe, the name slipping from your lips effortlessly, almost as if your body had been waiting for this moment. You blink, half-convinced that this is some sort of dream—because how could it be real? How could he be here, after all this time?

Yeji starts to speak again, her voice cutting through the haze of disbelief. “Yeah, it’s his party—” She trails off when she notices the way you and Jeno are looking at each other, the sexual energy that seems to hang in the air between you two. It’s like the entire room has disappeared, and suddenly, it’s just the two of you standing there, unmoving, locked in a silent conversation only you can understand.

People around you begin to grumble, nudging and pushing past as you both stand still, blocking the hallway. Someone mutters something about moving, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All that matters is the person standing in front of you, the one you hadn’t expected to see, let alone here, in this place.

“Y/N.” His voice is deeper now, more grounded, and the sound of your name on his lips sends a shiver down your spine. It’s familiar, yet distant—like hearing a song you used to love, but haven’t listened to in years.

You swallow hard, taking him in, trying to make sense of how much he’s changed. The teenage boy you once knew has grown into a man, his features sharper, more mature. His jawline is strong and defined, the once soft angles of his face now chiseled. His hair, slightly tousled in a way that looks effortlessly perfect, falls into his eyes, which are darker and more intense than you remember. There’s a confidence in the way he holds himself now, his broad shoulders filling out the leather jacket that clings to him like a second skin. He’s beautiful, in the way that takes your breath away, but there’s something different about him too—something distant.

You can’t help but smile at him, though your heart hammers in your chest, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. Joy, disbelief, and something deeper—something painful. But that smile falters when you see the way he returns it: tight-lipped, almost forced. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and the realization stings, sending a pang of guilt through your chest.

You frown, the weight of your last interaction with him crashing down on you. All those years ago—the tears, the screaming, the painful goodbye. You can still feel the heartbreak in your bones, the ache that never fully went away. It’s all rushing back to you now, as if no time has passed at all.

He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he can see straight through you. Every memory, every feeling, every regret. You gulp, your heart heavy with the confusion of seeing him here, after all these years, in a place where you’d least expect to run into him.

You’re overthinking—your mind spiraling through everything that went wrong, how things ended between you two. The guilt gnaws at you, but at the same time, there’s a flicker of something else. A warmth, a quiet happiness in your chest that he’s here. Out of all the people, out of all the chances, it’s him. It’s confusing, overwhelming, and it makes your head spin.

Love was never simple. And seeing Jeno again, after all this time, only reminds you of how complicated it can really be.

“Come here,” Jeno says softly, his voice a gentle command that cuts through the haze of noise around you. His eyes search yours with an intensity that sends a warmth rushing through your chest, and when he notices the flicker of uncertainty in your expression, his gaze softens. He always did think your smile was the prettiest, and now he just wants to see it again.

You hesitate for only a second before moving toward him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you step into his embrace. Your heart races, your body thrumming with nervous energy, but being in his arms feels like a release—like slipping into something warm and familiar. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, his grip firm but gentle, as though he’s afraid to let go. The feel of him against you is intoxicating—solid, warm, his body radiating a heat that makes your skin tingle. The scent of him, that blend of fresh soap and something uniquely Jeno, envelops you, making you feel safe, grounded.

Your arms slide up around his shoulders, pulling him closer, your fingertips grazing the back of his neck. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You bury your face in his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the soft thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It’s as if time has slowed down, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the party, the noise, the crowd. It’s just you and him, wrapped in this moment, in each other.

But all too soon, he pulls back, and the loss of his warmth hits you like a cold wind. You blink up at him, confused, your heart still pounding in your chest. And that’s when you notice it—the stares, the whispers. People around you are watching, their eyes filled with curiosity, judgment, and something darker that makes your skin crawl. It’s only now, without Jeno shielding you, that you feel exposed, vulnerable, as if the entire room is dissecting the moment you just shared.

You gulp, trying to shake off the unease, but it lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind. Why were they all staring? Why were there whispers? What had you done to deserve those mean eyes?

Before you can spiral further, Jeno’s hand reaches for your face, his fingers gently tilting your chin upward until your eyes meet his. The world seems to still again under the weight of his gaze. His eyes are soft, filled with understanding, and without a word, he tells you everything you need to know—focus on me, not them.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low, sultry, yet threaded with that same kindness and softness you remember so well. His arms find their way back around your waist, pulling you close once more. The feel of him pressed against you again sends a wave of calm through your body, making you forget about all the eyes still watching.

You clear your throat, trying to gather your thoughts. “Oh, I made a new friend, and she brought me to this party. She kinda dragged me along, she’s over there—” you ramble, gesturing vaguely in Yeji’s direction.

“I meant… what are you doing here? In Seoul?” he cuts you off, his gaze steady as he searches your face for the real answer.

“Oh—” you stammer, blinking in surprise. “I transferred to this campus today.”

Jeno’s lips quirk into a small smile. “I’m a student here too.”

You nod, the realization slowly sinking in. “Did you end up doing engineering?” you ask, your voice soft, almost tentative. You fight the urge to reach up and run your fingers through his hair—it was always so soft, so tempting.

He nods, holding back a grin. “Yeah. And you?”

“Journalism,” you reply, your words barely above a whisper, your gaze never leaving his.

“I knew it,” he says, his smile widening as if he’s always known that was your path.

The air between you hums with something unspoken, something simmering just beneath the surface. You suddenly become aware that his arms are still around your waist, holding you close, and the weight of his touch makes your pulse quicken. His body is pressed against yours, so close that you can feel the heat of him radiating through your clothes. Without hesitation, you slide your arms up around his shoulders, pulling him even closer.

Jeno hums softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he looks down at you. His eyes are darker now, filled with something you can’t quite place. His hands move slowly, trailing up and down your spine, the light touch sending shivers across your skin. He never lets his hands go lower, even though part of you wishes he would.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice low and intimate, his gaze never wavering from yours. The words hang in the air between you, thick with meaning, and you can feel your heart stutter in response.

Your breath falters as you chew on your bottom lip nervously. The weight of the moment settles deep in your chest as your eyes meet his. There’s something vulnerable in the way he’s looking at you, a softness that pulls you in, and you realize that those eyes—those same eyes you fell in love with so long ago—haven’t changed. He’s still there, the boy you knew, the boy who made you feel like you were the center of his world. It’s as if time hasn’t touched the way he sees you, hasn’t altered the tenderness that’s always been there, even when everything else shifted.

“Really?” you manage to whisper, the word barely audible, as if you need confirmation, as if the sincerity in his eyes isn’t already enough.

Jeno’s expression softens, though the seriousness in his eyes never fades. “You’ve only gotten prettier over the years,” he says, his thumb gently brushing the side of your face, his touch so light, yet it carries so much. The way he’s looking at you, with such tenderness and honesty, makes your chest tighten. He’s not just complimenting your looks; he’s seeing you—every part of you, the girl you were and the woman you’ve become, all wrapped into one.

“I mean it,” he continues softly, his voice like a warm breeze against your skin. “You look hot.”

You don’t trust your voice to respond, so you just smile up at him, the warmth of his words seeping into your skin, making you feel seen, understood, and undeniably desired.

You swallow, the heat between you nearly overwhelming, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip from your lips. “Do you wanna go somewhere more private?” Your voice is a little shaky, but the meaning is clear. “We have a lot to catch up on, and this party is kinda dead, anyway.”

Jeno’s eyes widen slightly, and then he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “This is my party,” he reminds you, his lips quirking into a teasing smile.

“Oh,” you mumble, feeling a little sheepish. “Right…”

You feel your cheeks warm under his gaze, and you mumble, “Well, you haven’t been partying.”

He shakes his head with a soft laugh, then leans down, his voice barely a whisper. “Come with me.”

He pulls back just enough to slip his hand into yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you. The second his arms leave your waist, you feel the absence of his presence, but then his hand squeezes yours, and he gently pulls you through the crowd, guiding you with purpose. The whispers and stares fade into the background as you follow him, your heart pounding in anticipation.

Jeno leads you down a hallway, away from the thrum of the party, and finally into his room. It’s a simple space, neat but lived-in. A TV is mounted  against the wall next to a desk cluttered with papers and books, and his bed is neatly made, the navy blue sheets crisp against the low lighting. The room smells faintly of him—clean, comforting, with a hint of something warm and masculine. He lets you step in first, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

As soon as the door clicks shut, you’re on him, and he’s on you—there’s no hesitation, no space left between you. Your lips collide with his in a heated, desperate kiss, as if neither of you can wait a second longer. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist with a hunger that makes your knees weak, pulling you so close you can barely breathe, not that you care.

You can feel his need, the urgency in the way his fingers dig into your skin, in the way his lips devour yours like he’s been starving for this moment. Your hands are tangled in his shirt, yanking him closer, matching his intensity. Tongues meet in a fevered rhythm, gasps escaping between kisses, the room thick with the heat building between you.

Without thinking, you jump into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he steadies you with a low grunt, his strength evident in the way he holds you so effortlessly. He fumbles for the light switch, turning it off, and the room is instantly bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candles—ones he had lit earlier. The dim light casts shadows across the room, making the moment feel even more intimate, more romantic.

With one hand, he locks the door behind you then with a gentleness that contrasts with the fire burning between you, he carries you over to the bed, lowering you carefully onto the soft sheets. His gaze never leaves yours, full of so much longing and adoration it makes your breath catch. For a moment, he just stares down at you, as though memorizing every detail, every inch of you.

Then he’s on you again, pulling you into his lap, his hands roaming your back as your lips crash together once more. This time it’s even more desperate, the tension between you palpable as soft moans escape both your lips, mingling in the heated air. His hands move up your spine, gently tugging at your clothes, and you respond in kind, your fingers working to undo his shirt, your skin buzzing with anticipation.

You grind down against him, feeling how hard he already is beneath you, and he groans, his grip tightening on your waist. The heat between you is overwhelming, the connection almost too much to bear, but in the back of your mind, something lingers—something you need to say.

You pull back, your lips parting from his with a soft gasp, and he groans again, clearly frustrated by the sudden distance. His brow furrows as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his desire for you unmistakable. “We can have sex after…” you whisper, your voice soft but insistent as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, hoping he understands. “I just want to talk to you now.”

He exhales, the tension in his body easing slightly as he nods, offering you a patient, if slightly strained, smile. He hums softly, his hand still resting gently on your waist, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he nods, silently encouraging you to go ahead and speak.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, the words barely above a whisper, but the heaviness of them palpable in the quiet room.

He watches you closely, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression soft but serious. The warmth of his body next to yours is comforting, yet the guilt gnaws at you from the inside out.

“I’m sorry for leaving the way I did... leaving us the way I did,” you continue, your voice catching. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jeno. I know it’s too many years too late, but please believe me when I say I wish I could go back. I wish I could’ve stayed with you all these years. I’d go back, and I’d choose you—every single time.”

You try to hold it together, but when you see a single tear escape from his eye, your own walls crumble. The tears spill over, unbidden and uncontrollable. Your hands tremble as you reach up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing away the tear that trails down his cheek.

“I love you so much,” you choke out. “I always have, and I always will. I’ve never stopped loving you, Jeno. The biggest mistake of my life was leaving you, and that will always haunt me. I’ll always regret it. I’ll always hate myself for what I did to us, to you.”

His lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something, but you continue, needing to let it all out, needing him to understand.

“I didn’t want to leave you. It was the hardest decision of my life and one I wish I never made. Japan wasn’t worth it... I hated every second. I missed you every single day. I didn’t even realize how much I missed you, how much I needed you, until today.”

The vulnerability of your words hangs in the air between you, raw and exposed. The years of separation suddenly feel like nothing as you bare your soul to him. Jeno had always been the one you could unravel yourself for, the one who knew every emotion, every thought, even when you tried to hide it. It was strange to realize that after all this time—after all the changes life had thrown at you—your feelings for him were unchanged, as deep and intense as ever.

He sends you a tight-lipped smile, one of understanding, and gently wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb before leaning in and kissing your forehead softly, the tenderness of the gesture almost breaking you all over again.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice low and calm. “You don’t need to apologize to me. At the time, I was hurt, but I knew you had your reasons. We were so young. I never held anything against you all these years. I’ve always been proud of you. No one deserved that opportunity in Japan more than you. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you wanted. But Y/N, it’s been so long, I don’t feel the same pain as I did when you left. I accept your apology though.”

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, a heavy weight lifting from your chest, though the tears still threaten to spill over. “You were always so understanding and supportive,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

He smiles, that familiar, kind smile that always made you feel safe. “It’s not hard to be when it’s you.”

You exhale shakily, still reeling from the intensity of the moment. “I’ve been imagining this for years, you know. Finding my way back to you, having this conversation, figuring out what I’d say to make things right. I’ve never forgotten you, Jeno. Not once. I didn’t think I’d see you tonight... but it feels good, it feels like nothing changed, even though I know everything has.”

His eyes soften as he listens, his hand still resting on your cheek, grounding you in the moment. But there’s a question hanging in the air, one that you know he has to ask.

“Why didn’t you contact me again?” he finally says, his voice gentle, not accusatory, but filled with genuine curiosity. “You had me blocked on everything. I tried to reach out, but I couldn’t.”

You lower your gaze, shame creeping up on you, and you bite your lip. “I didn’t have you blocked at first,” you admit quietly. “But after how I left things, after that massive fight we had... I didn’t think I deserved to be in your life anymore. I felt so guilty, Jeno. I didn’t think I deserved you, so I blocked you to stop myself from calling, from telling you how much I regretted it.”

He nods slowly, processing your words. “So why now? Why did you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Time has gone on, and a lot has changed. I’ve grown up, and I’m not losing you again.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, softening the lines of tension that had been there moments before. “So you always imagined coming back to me?” he repeats, echoing your earlier words with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You smile through the tears that still linger in your eyes. “I always knew I’d find my way back to you.”

Jeno's grin widens, and without warning his lips capture yours again, but this time there’s a deliberate, slower intensity behind the kiss. His hands glide up to cradle your face, fingers strong yet gentle, as he guides you back onto the bed. His weight presses softly against you, but his touch remains light, controlled, like he’s savoring every second.

He leans down, his lips tracing a path over your skin, brushing across your forehead, your cheekbones, down to your jaw. Each kiss is unhurried, but there’s a quiet hunger in the way his lips linger, in the way his breath comes hot against your skin. He knows how to take his time, but there’s an underlying sense of control, a restraint that makes every touch more electric.

His hands move lower, fingertips grazing over your hips, sending shivers through you. His lips follow, trailing from your neck, down over your collarbone. His touch is confident, exploring your body with a slow, deliberate pace, like he’s memorizing every inch. There’s a heat between you, building with each press of his lips, each pass of his hand, as he continues his slow descent.

He gazes at you with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine, his eyes dark and filled with desire. Gently, he guides you onto the soft sheets, his hands never leaving your body. As he kneels between your thighs, his fingertips trail lightly along your skin, igniting sparks wherever he touches. The anticipation builds as he lowers himself, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive areas.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, his voice husky. He places tender kisses along your inner thighs, each one drawing a soft gasp from your lips. His eyes flick up to meet yours, a mischievous glint dancing within them before he continues his journey.

When his mouth finally reaches your core, he starts with a gentle, lingering kiss, his lips soft against you. A sigh escapes you, and your fingers instinctively weave into his hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers as you hold him close. He smiles against you, clearly enjoying the way you respond to his touch.

He begins to explore with his tongue, starting with slow, deliberate strokes that make your breath hitch. He licks a teasing line from bottom to top, savoring every moment. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. He nips lightly, his teeth grazing just enough to add an edge to the softness, then soothes the spot with his tongue.

“Jeno,” you moan softly, your voice trembling. He responds by gripping your hips firmly, pulling you closer to his eager mouth. His movements become more passionate, his tongue circling and flicking in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. The heat between you intensifies, every nerve ending alive under his attentive care.

He sucks gently at first, creating a delicious pressure that builds with each passing second. Then he increases the intensity, drawing you deeper into a haze of sensation. The wet warmth of his mouth contrasts with the cool air of the room, heightening your awareness of every movement.

Your back arches off the bed as you feel yourself losing control. You tug at his hair, a silent plea for more, and he groans appreciatively, the sound vibrating against you and adding another layer of pleasure. His name falls from your lips like a mantra, each syllable filled with need.

He adjusts his approach based on the shifts in your breathing, the tilts of your hips guiding him. One hand remains firmly on your lower abdomen, pressing just enough to enhance the sensations rippling through you while he releases his other hand from your hip to entwine his fingers with yours, his grip is reassuring yet possessive. Holding your gaze, he spits softly, the unexpected act intensifying the slickness and sending a thrill through you. “You taste so good,” he whispers against you before diving back in with renewed fervor.

His tongue moves expertly, finding the perfect rhythm and pressure to push you toward the edge. The combination of his mouth and the subtle squeeze of his hand around yours creates a connection that feels both electric and intimate. The sounds filling the room—the soft slurping, his occasional groans, your escalating moans—blend into a symphony of raw desire.

The tension within you coils tighter, a wave of heat building low in your belly. “Please… don’t stop,” you whisper, barely able to form the words. He answers by doubling his efforts, his tongue moving faster, more deliberately. He nips and sucks with just the right amount of pressure, his movements confident and unrelenting.

Your thighs tremble around him, and your grip on his hair tightens. The world narrows to the point where only this moment exists—the feel of his mouth, the warmth of his breath, the intense gaze that holds you captive.

With one final, perfectly placed stroke, the wave crests. Pleasure crashes over you in powerful surges, your body shuddering as you cry out his name. He doesn’t let up, guiding you through the climax with gentle licks and kisses, prolonging the bliss until you’re left utterly spent.

As you sink back into the softness of the pillows, your breathing is heavy, your body still trembling from the waves of pleasure. Jeno doesn’t pause; he continues his gentle ministrations, planting soft, deliberate kisses up your inner thigh. Each kiss sends a shiver up your spine, a lingering promise of more to come. When he finally meets your lips, the kiss is deep and deliberate, letting you taste your own arousal on him, mingling it with his desire.

A soft whine escapes you as you feel the hard press of his erection against you. It’s not just the contact but the intent behind it that makes your heart race—a palpable reminder of your shared hunger. You reach down, your fingers encircling his length, and the contact pulls a guttural moan from deep within you. He’s slick with anticipation, his size as formidable as ever. As your hand glides along him, you’re reminded of the first times—those initial encounters where his size was an exhilarating challenge. The memory of how he filled you completely, stretching you deliciously, flashes through your mind. Even the way he felt in your mouth, substantial and overwhelming, rushes back, tinting your cheeks with desire.

Jeno’s eyes darken with desire, locked onto your movements. His breath hitches as you explore, recalling the precise ways to stoke his arousal. As your hand moves, he suddenly grips it gently, stopping your motions. “Don’t baby, I won’t last,” he murmurs with a strained moan, his voice thick with lust. This interruption, laden with urgent need, sends a thrill through you, underscoring the intensity of the moment and the deep, carnal connection that continues to draw you irresistibly together.

He groans softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Do you have a condom?” Jeno asks, his voice tinged with a mix of urgency and desire.

You shake your head, feeling a flutter of nerves and longing swirling in your stomach. The dim light casts a soft glow over his familiar features, highlighting the depth in his eyes. “Jeno… I’m literally a virgin,” you whisper, your cheeks flushing slightly.

His brows raise, a playful disbelief dancing across his face. “No, you’re not.”

You stay silent and pout your lips, which only makes his disbelief grow. “Remember how we used to fuck every day for three months long? I know I was loving you well, but I didn’t realize it would give you memory loss.”

“Hmmm, I don’t recall,” you tease, feigning thoughtfulness.

“You don’t remember me taking your virginity? You don’t remember the way I used to touch you? Make love to you? You don’t remember me being inside of you? You don’t remember screaming my name all night long?”

You blush softly, running your fingers through his tousled hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers. The familiar gesture brings a rush of memories—stolen glances, shared laughter, the way his touch used to set your skin on fire. “Of course I do.” You finally stop playing dumb. “But you were the last person I had sex with,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been a long time for me, so I don’t just carry around condoms.”

His eyes widen and he stays silent for a small moment, his facial features registering realization. “What? Really?”

You chuckle, shying away from him and averting your eyes as your honesty makes you feel too vulnerable. The eye contact feels too intense now. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you… I should’ve lied but I was never good at lying to you. I knew you’d make fun of me,” you pout, your voice a mix of humor and embarrassment.

He shakes his head and coos at your words, his eyes full of love and affection as he calls your name in the most soft and delicate voice, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes lock on yours with sincerity and love. “I promise you I’m not making fun of you, baby, I’m just surprised, because the last time we had sex was five years ago,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip. “I know we used to have a lot of sex but that’s a long time.”

“It’s been six years,” you correct him softly. “I’ve not even wanted to fuck anyone else, I was never able to get over you even if I tried to move on.”

He leans back slightly, his eyes widening as realization dawns. “Wait, seriously?” His gaze softens, a mixture of surprise and something deeper reflecting in his eyes. “It’s only ever been me?”

You nod, a hint of vulnerability beneath your steady gaze. “Yes,” you admit quietly. “It’s always been you.”

A slow, affectionate smile spreads across his face. “Well, that’s good to know,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. “Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“There was a while where I tried to force myself to forget about you and be with other guys, but I’d always back out last minute. It was too difficult for me to pretend I wanted another man who wasn’t you inside of me. Sex is a big thing for me; it’s about emotional intimacy, connection, trust, and love… You’re the only one who can make me want it,” you confess.

He grins, kissing your cheek and whispering, making you giggle at his soft and gentle words. “You’re so fucking cute,” he coos.

You hum as he cups your face and you lean your head against his palm. You both share giddy smiles and giggle as he continues, “If anything, the fact you’ve not wanted anyone else makes me even crazier for you. Stop trying to make me love you more.”

Caught in the midst of this emotional revelation, the reality that you’re both still naked strikes you, and the feel of his hardness cock pressing and twitching insistently against you sends a rush of heat through your body. “Jeno… now stop talking and fuck me hard.”

He shakes his head, a playful chuckle escaping him. “You’re the one who needs to stop talking… You don’t think I’ve forgotten about those times when I was cock and balls deep inside you and you’d yap about everything. I was always amazed how, even completely fucked out, you’d still fill me in about your day, the latest TV show you watched, or the book you read.”

You giggle, a spark of old love flickering in your eyes. “Yeah, get used to that again.”

He rolls his eyes but you see the same love reflecting deep in his gaze. He kisses your lips tenderly. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your lips as desire overcomes him. His next words are hopeful, tinged with urgency. “We don’t have any condoms… are you on the pill?”

You shake your head slowly, the mix of frustration and longing intensifying as the heat between you becomes nearly unbearable. Every inch of your skin tingles with anticipation. “But it doesn’t matter. I want you,” you whisper fervently, your voice barely more than a breath. “I want you to come inside me. Just fuck me, please.”

His eyes widen slightly, a storm of emotions flickering across his face—desire, hesitation, and something deeper. “Y/N… are you sure?” he asks, his tone serious as he cups your face gently in his hands.

His thumbs brush lightly over your cheeks, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“Yes.” You respond without a second thought.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Alright,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I need you too.”

As he enters you, it's as if the world narrows to just the two of you, every sensation amplified. The initial stretch is intense—a blend of sharp pleasure and a fleeting ache that steals your breath. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you adjust to him, the fullness both overwhelming and profoundly intimate. Tears well up in your eyes, not from pain, but from the cascade of emotions flooding through you. You never anticipated that this night would lead you here, wrapped in the arms of the man you've always loved. It feels right, destined—as if every moment in your lives had been guiding you back to this point.

"You're so tight," he whispers, his voice strained with a mix of restraint and desire. He moves slowly, each deliberate thrust gentle, allowing you time to acclimate to the depth of connection between you. His eyes never leave yours, filled with concern and an affection that makes your heart swell.

You blink up at him through blurred vision, feeling both vulnerable and cherished under his gaze. "So you forgive me? Do you still love me?" you ask softly, your voice tinged with hope and uncertainty.

His lips brush tenderly across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that have escaped. Each touch ignites a warm spark beneath your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "I never stopped loving you," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm that eases the lingering doubts in your heart. The sincerity in his eyes reflects the depth of his feelings, making the moment all the more poignant.

As his movements begin to find a steady rhythm, the heat between you intensifies. The slow, sensual glide of his body against yours builds a mounting tension, each motion drawing you deeper into a shared world where only the two of you exist. Your fingers intertwine above your head, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he's anchoring himself to you. The intimacy of the gesture sends a flutter through your chest, solidifying the unspoken promises hanging in the air.

"Wait," you breathe out between soft gasps, “Can we go to mine? The bed isn't as big but I want to show you some things.” 

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating pleasantly against your skin. "Baby... I'm literally inside of you right now," he teases, disbelief and amusement mingling in his expression.

A laugh bubbles up from your lips, mingling with the quiet moans filling the room. "I know you are! I just meant after." you exclaim, a smile spreading across your face as a blush warms your cheeks.

“Wowww, I haven’t even finished fucking you in my bed and you’re already wanting me to fuck you in yours? So impatient, baby…” he tuts playfully, a teasing smirk dancing on his lips.

You pout, a playful glint in your eyes. “I just want to show you my room and the cute dresses and skirts I got.”

He coos softly, leaning in to press his lips against yours, the kiss warm and tender. He promises you that he’ll go to your place tonight and that you can show him everything you want, and that you’ll do whatever you have in mind.

His affectionate shake of the head softens his expression, a mix of amusement and adoration shining through. “You haven’t changed… still the yapper you always were.”

“Hey!” you protest lightly, squeezing his hand with a mock glare, though the laughter bubbling between you both erases any tension. The moment feels light, full of shared history and comfort, wrapping you in a warmth that feels both familiar and cherished.

His lips move to yours once again as he begins to move with purpose inside of you, each thrust deliberate and steady, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. The sensation of him filling you completely is both overwhelming and exquisite. Your bodies fit together seamlessly, as if molded for each other. His cock feels thick and warm inside you, the veins pulsing against your inner walls with every movement. The slickness between you eases his glide, intensifying the friction that draws soft moans from your parted lips.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. The angle shifts slightly, and he hits a spot that makes you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, you feel incredible," he groans, his voice strained with restraint. A sheen of sweat forms on his brow, and his dark hair falls messily over his eyes. You reach up to brush it aside, your fingers trembling as they trace the contours of his face.

"Jeno," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of skin meeting skin—the rhythmic slap that echoes in the room, punctuated by your shared breaths and quiet whimpers. The scent of desire hangs heavy in the air, a heady mix that makes your head spin.

He gazes down at you, eyes filled with a mix of lust and tenderness. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to press kisses along your jawline, down the curve of your neck. His lips are warm and soft, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You arch your back, pressing your chest against his. The friction of your bodies sends sparks of electricity coursing through you. Your hands roam over his toned back, feeling the muscles tense and flex beneath your touch. Each thrust drives him deeper, the intensity building with every passing second.

The pleasure mounts, a coil tightening low in your belly. His pace quickens, hips snapping with a newfound urgency. The sounds of your passion grow louder—his low grunts mingling with your breathy moans. "I can't get enough of you," he growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

"Don't stop," you plead, your head thrown back as he hits that perfect spot again and again. The world blurs at the edges, your focus narrowing to the exquisite sensations he's drawing from you. You moan softly, your head tilting back as he kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck. “Right there,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a sigh.

“Like this?” he asks, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone carries a hint of teasing, but his eyes are filled with tenderness.

“Yes,” you reply, your fingers digging gently into his back as you encourage him to maintain the rhythm.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he brings them above your head. The gesture is both protective and possessive, anchoring you to him. The intimacy of it sends a warm rush through your body.

“Look at me,” he whispers. You meet his gaze, losing yourself in the depths of his eyes. The connection between you transcends the physical; it’s as if your souls are touching.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His tongue dances with yours, the taste of him intoxicating. Your lungs burn for air, but you don't dare pull away, not wanting to break the connection.

Your bodies move in perfect harmony. The bed creaks beneath you, the sheets tangled around your entwined limbs. A thin layer of sweat slicks your skin, making every touch slippery and electrifying.

"I'm close," you gasp against his lips, your nails digging crescents into his back. The tension inside you winds tighter, threatening to snap.

"Me too," he groans, his rhythm becoming erratic. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing as he pins it gently above your head. The gesture is possessive yet tender, grounding you in the moment.

You whine softly, tears welling in your eyes as you instinctively cover your face, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Each moan that escapes your lips is a testament to the intensity building within you. “Look at me,” he urges again, his gaze searching yours with a dark intensity that sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body. When you don’t move your hands, he gently pries them away, his voice low and sultry as he warns, “If you cover your face again, I’ll get handcuffs.” The threat hangs in the air, electrifying the moment and deepening the tension between you.

Your eyes meet his, locking in a gaze so profound it feels as though he’s seeing into your very soul. The stern edge in his expression softens abruptly, replaced by a tenderness that takes your breath away. His movements slow, each thrust becoming deliberate and filled with meaning.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, his voice rough with passion yet laced with vulnerability.

Your heart swells, the raw emotion in his eyes mirroring your own feelings. “I love you more,” you manage to reply, the words tumbling out amidst your mounting ecstasy.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, soulful kiss. The world around you fades as you melt into him, every sensation intensified—the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat, the way his breath mingles with yours.

With a final, deep thrust, the coil inside you releases. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your vision white-hot as you cry out his name. Your inner walls flutter and clench around him, pulling him deeper.

Feeling you come undone pushes him over the edge. He groans loudly, his grip on your hand tightening as he spills into you. The warmth of his release fills you, a intimate claim that leaves you both trembling.

He collapses gently onto you, careful not to crush you under his weight. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breaths hot and ragged against your skin. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart matching your own.

For a few moments, neither of you moves, both riding out the lingering pulses of pleasure. The room is filled with the sounds of your slowing breaths, the air heavy with the scent of sex and something deeper—reconnection.

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, a soft smile curving his swollen lips. His eyes shine with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness. Gently, he brushes a damp strand of hair away from your face.

He moves inside you with a relentless rhythm, drawing out until only the tip remains, then thrusting back in deeply. As he pulls out, the slick sound of your combined arousal fills the air, and the visual of his glistening arousal intensifies the raw, erotic nature of the moment. Your eyes flutter, heavy with the afterglow and impending exhaustion, but he’s quick to gently catch your attention.

“Don’t sleep now, remember you have to show me your apartment,” he says, his voice a tender nudge against the lure of sleep. You nod, half-heartedly, your body sinking deeper into the comfort of his bed and his arms, your eyes remaining firmly shut.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Sex always did use to knock you out,” he observes with a warm laugh. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispers, his hands coaxing you gently off the bed despite your protesting groan. He leads you into the bathroom where he runs a nice, warm bath. The steam fills the room as he carefully helps you into the tub, his care and attention washing over you as soothingly as the water itself.

That night, as effortlessly as slipping into a warm bath, he became your boyfriend again. It didn’t feel rushed or unnatural; rather, it was the most natural progression in the world. It was as if fate had steered you back to this exact moment, unwilling to let you waste more precious time apart. Despite the years, the foundation of your relationship remained unshaken; tonight, you simply continued building upon it, marveling at how natural it felt to be together, how much you both had grown.

Later, nestled against him, the vulnerability of your conversation mirrors the intimacy you’ve shared physically. “I still don’t understand why you forgave me so easily though,” you murmur, half-dazed by sleep and contentment.

Jeno’s response is tinged with the wisdom gained from years of reflection, “I was mad at first but then I calmed down. Being angry wouldn’t help either of us. Besides,” his voice softens, “there’s a reason you’re back here with me now. No point in wasting any more time.”

Your mind spins briefly with the image of him with someone else, but his next words reassure you, “You’ve been the only one for me. I never stopped loving you.”

You laugh, a soft, disbelieving snort, “And to think you’ve been the only man I’ve ever been with.”

He grins, the sound of his laughter mixing with yours in the quiet of the night. “And the only guy you’ve had sex with… I still can’t believe it.”

Your voice is playful, yet curious, “So how many girls have you been with other than me?”

Jeno's response is nonchalant, a casual shrug catching the dim light of the room, “Honestly, I don’t keep count.” His tone is dismissive of the past, focusing only on the present moment with you.

“Hey,” you interject gently, shifting the conversation as your eyes soften and your voice drops to a more vulnerable tone, which he immediately responds to with a comforting hum and an encouraging smile.

“After all this time, you still love me?” you whisper, your gaze intently searching his for confirmation. Despite the clear affection and warmth in his eyes—a testament to his feelings—doubt whispers through your mind, pushing you to seek reassurance.

He nods, his response quick and unwavering, infused with a depth of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. “After all this time,” he affirms softly, his voice a steady anchor in the sea of your insecurities. His simple affirmation, laden with years of unspoken emotion and a steadfast commitment, resonates deeply, offering you a profound sense of peace and belonging. His eyes hold yours, reinforcing his words, a silent vow that despite everything, his heart has remained irrevocably yours.

──────────────────────────────

authors note — i know i’ve been really inactive, this work doubles as a sorry and a thank you for an amazing follower milestone i’ve just reached <3 mwah mwah enjoy. make sure you leave an interaction if you enjoyed it xx

[happy74827]

One Call Away

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: During one of his "jobs," Deadpool gets a call from his favorite gal [GIF Creds: jdsheart]

WC: 1970

Category: Fluff, Major Comedy {TW: Deadpool’s Humor/Nonfiltered Personality}

This man is so hard to write. I’m always stressing the noggin when it comes to planning and plotting 😔

『••✎••』

"And away we go..."

One neck crack and a couple of hip twists later, he was off like Aladdin and his fucktoy carpet, scaling the building similarly to a chameleon on LSD.

The only thing that was missing was some epic music.

He'd been chasing this baddie around the city for almost two days now. Some big-shot mob boss with ties to Hydra, or the Mafia, or the Yakuza, or some other three-letter-acronym organization. It was hard to keep track of them all at this point. They were all the same, except for the name.

They all had their own agenda.

Kill him, keep him prisoner, pay him off...

Wade never cared enough to listen because it was always the same. He just got hired to do the dirty work, and the pay was good.

The killing was better.

This one, however, was particularly good at eluding him. He'd been trying to get his hands on this man for a few days now. It wasn't as though he was trying to be stealthy or anything, either. He'd walked right up to his front door, knocked, and was greeted with a spray of machine gun bullets.

So, the usual.

But then the guy ran and didn't stop. It was like the fucking Roadrunner met Sonic the Hedgehog, and they decided to fuck around and find out.

Wade was getting real sick and tired of being a Roadrunner, too. He had a reputation to uphold. He wasn't known as the Merc with the Mouth for nothing. He was supposed to be the one doing the running and the killing.

Not the other way around.

Finally, finally, he managed to reach the roof where the guy was currently taking cover behind a small brick shack. The sun was rising, but it was still dark, and there were a couple of floodlights shining on the rooftop. It made him think of the night he'd had that heart-to-heart with Blind Al, even though all she really wanted was for him to bring her some of that special brownie mix.

What a night that had been.

But anyway, this monologue is starting to get too long, and we should probably move things along, eh?

Right.

So, the baddie.

His name was something long and non-English.

Salvatore, or Santino, or Salvation... Whatever the fuck it was, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was time to make him dead.

He stepped around the corner and was met with a spray of bullets, all of which lodged themselves into his Kevlar vest.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled over the sound of the gunfire. "This is real leather, you know. I'm tired of all the offscreen sewing and shit."

When the spray finally ended, he took a moment to catch his breath.

"…ow," he whispered to himself.

"You shouldn't have followed me here," the man said.

"Yeah, whatever," Deadpool replied. "Look, I'll make this easy for you. You drop down and give me fifty, and I'll let you keep that hideous mustache you're sporting."

The man's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"Yes, yes it is," Deadpool assured him. "You got a squirrel living in it or something?"

"It's just a little bit of gray, you dick," the man argued. "What about you? What's with the mask? Are you hiding a mustache under there, too, or something? Maybe some acne scars?"

Deadpool shook his head and stepped forward, his guns drawn.

"Don't come any closer!"

"You know, this would be much more intimidating if you didn't look like a cartoon mouse."

"Stop it with the mustache!"

"Alright, alright," Deadpool said. "Enough with the mustache. But what is it about your hairline? I can't put my finger on it."

The man sighed in exasperation and pulled out his pistol, aiming it right at Deadpool's face.

"Hey now, don't point that at me," Deadpool scolded him. "That's not a very nice thing to do."

He ignored him and pulled the trigger, a loud boom ringing out as the bullet fired. It whizzed by him but missed its mark.

"You really are a dick," He grumbled before aiming his gun right between the man's eyes. And he was going to shoot, honest.

He really was.

But then his phone rang, and he was well-reminded of the current song playing through his head.

I'm a buff baby that can dance like a man. I can shake-ah my fanny, I can shake-ah my can!

Needless to say, he was distracted.

He lowered his gun and looked down at his pocket, where his phone was still ringing and still vibrating against his leg.

"Shit, hold that thought," He said to the guy, and he holstered his gun.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?!"

Deadpool put his finger up to shush him before pulling his phone out of his pocket to answer it.

If you're an evil witch, I’ll punch you for fu—

"Heyyyy," he said in a sing-songy voice, "you've reached the phone sex hotline. For kinks and fetishes, press one. For booty calls, press two. For your favorite mercenary, press three."

"Ey, pendejo—" His opponent started, but he cut him off by snapping and raising his finger.

"Cut it, Tuco Salamanca. Breaking Bad called and wants its meth-cooking mustache back."

"Wha-I-you-"

"Anyways, this is your favorite merc speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

"Is this a bad time?"

Wade's eyes widened in shock, and his jaw dropped open when he heard her voice on the other end of the line.

"Baby girl! Is that you? Oh, how I've missed your voice. It's like hearing an angel, or an angelic chorus, or a whole bunch of angels, but you're the most important one. Like, the lead singer or something."

"I literally saw you last night." Your voice was always drenched with the most amazing kind of sarcasm, and he'd missed it.

"And?"

"It's only been a few hours."

"And?"

"That's a short amount of time."

"And?"

You sighed, but he knew you weren't really annoyed.

"Anyways, you sounded busy," you continued, "so I'll just let you go."

"What?! No! Don't hang up!" He shouted into the receiver. "I've only fiddled with my pistols! Nothing interesting is happening right now!"

"Your pistols, huh?" You asked a hint of mischief in your voice.

"Well, yeah. They're the most important part of the mission, you know."

In the corner of his eye, he could see his target making his way towards the edge of the building. Quickly and efficiently, without dropping his attention from his conversation with you, he lifted his gun and fired a shot at the man's knee.

"Ah, fuck!" the man screamed in pain. "My knee!"

"Hey! Language!" Deadpool scolded him. "The lady of the house is listening!"

"Lady of the- what the fuck?!"

"I said language, you mustachioed rat!"

"Mustachioed rat?" You asked.

"Sorry, babe," he replied. "You know how excited I get when Downtown Abbey is on."

“There’s gunshots in Downtown Abbey?"

"Gunshots? Oh, no, no. That was… uh, a car alarm. Yeah, the neighbor's car alarm was going off."

"Uh-huh," you said, not sounding very convinced. And, of course, that was right around the time the guy's gun went off again, this time hitting him square in the shoulder. It made the phone fall out of his hand and clatter onto the ground, but the call was still connected.

"Dammit!" He yelled, looking at the fresh blood dripping down his arm. "That's gonna take forever to heal!"

"Who are you talking to?" The man demanded, his gun still aimed at Deadpool's face. "You're working with someone?"

"Hey, now, I don't remember giving you permission to talk," Deadpool told him, holding his bloody arm up to his face. "Look, I've gotta call you back, babe. I know it's been so heartbreakingly long—"

"Again, only a few hours," you said.

"—but duty calls. Love you, bye."

"Love you, bye."

With that, the line disconnected.

"Ugh," he groaned, his heart aching for the loss of your sweet voice. "I miss her already."

"Ey," his opponent growled, drawing his attention. He started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, which Deadpool didn't really understand, but he didn't have to. The guy was just ranting and raving.

"Alright, alright, chill," Deadpool said. "Just calm down. It’ll all be over soon, little buddy."

"I am not little! I am a giant!" The guy protested, and Wade could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "And I will not chill!"

"Well, can't argue with that, I guess," Deadpool said with a shrug, and he took aim. But before he could pull the trigger, the guy was running again.

"Hey, what did I tell you about running?!" He yelled, but his voice fell on deaf ears as the guy reached the ledge.

"I am a giant!"

"No, you're a giant asshat!"

"I will not be bested by some masked buffoon!"

"Buff? Me? Why, I never!"

"You're the biggest asshole I've ever met!"

"You know what? I am a big ass! A big, round, bubbly ass." He paused for a second. "Hey, what's your favorite flavor?"

"Fuck you, you red-clad imbecile!"

"You know, I'd ask you out to dinner first, but we're kinda past that now."

"Argh!"

"Alright, enough stalling," Deadpool said. "It's time to end this."

"Yes," the guy said, turning his gun back on Deadpool. "It is."

Of course, Deadpool being the smart-ass he was, he'd already taken a step to the side. As the bullet whizzed past him, he reached for his gun.

"Now, where did I put that thing? Oh, there it is."

He aimed the gun and fired, and the man fell back onto the ground. The bullet hit him right in the middle of his forehead, his blood splattering all over the concrete.

"Ha ha! Fatality. Deadpool wins!" He said, his voice taking on the deep, grounded tone of the narrator from Mortal Kombat. "Flawless Victory."

He stood over the body for a few seconds, reveling in his victory, before he felt the presence of another.

The gun on his right side got ripped from its holster, and the barrel was aimed back into his face, as it always seems to be.

But, he already sensed it was coming, so his fingers wrapped around his other and aimed that right in the golden spot… and let’s just say, The Golden Girls was a little less golden and a lot more crimson.

"Wow, this has got to be a record," He said as he bent down to stare at the new one’s anguish. "Two dead ugly mustaches in the same day. You can call me Sweeney Todd because shit… I just shaved you the fuck up."

He didn’t give the poor bastard a chance to even whimper before he fired another two shots into the man's head. All in all, this had been the easiest payday he'd had in a while.

He picked up his cell phone and slipped it back into its pocket before bending down and scooping up the mustache man's pistol.

"Ooh, lookie here, a nice, shiny new pistol," he said to himself. "Just what I've always wanted. Well, I don't actually need it. It's not like I have any other holes in my body, but you know what they say. The more the merrier."

He stuffed the gun in his holster and turned around, heading back the way he'd come.

"Time to get back to the good stuff," he said. "I have a date with my favorite girl."

He hopped up onto the ledge and looked down, his eyes locking on the window to his apartment.

And when he arrived, bloody and battered, you could only smile while holding up little ole Mary Puppins in all her drooling glory.

God, how he missed his girls.

[little-diable]

Cocky Tornado Wrangler – Tyler Owens (smut)

Finally watching Twisters tonight. My poor aunt who has to listen to me gush about our husband. Thank you so much for the love on my other Tyler fic, I hope y'all will love this just as much. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: There are many things (y/n) would prefer to having to share a room with the man she hates. But does she really hate him? Or will the bed they share be enough to push them closer together?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), piv, enemies to lovers, lots of teasing

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3.8k words)

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Her voice dripped with exhaustion, eyes tired and ready to flutter shut any moment now. But fuck, she couldn’t give in just yet, had to fight yet another battle with the self proclaimed tornado wrangler who was staring down at her with his signature smirk glued to his lips.

The smirk he wore in every video of his. Videos she watched whenever they were uploaded to his channel. Not that she’d ever tell Tyler that. And god forbid he’d ever stumble upon the saved favourites she watched in moments where she needed distraction from everything but him. 

“Well, seems like your prayers were answered, pretty. An EF4 and now we get to share a room, certainly feels like we’re even closer to heaven now, doesn’t it?” Tyler’s hand found her waist to give it a soft squeeze before he gently pushed her further into the motel room. It had been an exhausting day, filled with adrenaline highs as they chased tornadoes until the late evening. Even though they had been mesmerised by the beautiful disaster, they were now forced to stay in one of the close towns, cut off from the highway heading home. 

“I can take the couch.” She had her eyes set on the rather worn out couch which had been pushed against one of the walls that were painted in a faded out pink colour. The whole room made her feel like she was back at her grandparents home, letting an almost melancholic feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. 

“You sure you don’t wanna share? The bed’s big enough, or I could take the couch.” Tyler hung up his still wet hat before placing his bag down on the bed. (Y/n) watched him take in the room, giving her a few seconds to curse him for wearing a white shirt that now clung to his muscular upper body. His back muscles were shining through the wet fabric, letting her get lost in the thoughts of how it must feel to brush her nails along his soft skin. Thoughts that shot heat straight down to her core, knowing that she’d have to take care of that cursed longing in the shower. 

“In your dreams, Owens, and we both know you won’t fit on that couch.” His raspy laugh left her grinning, unable to stop her tired face from reacting to the man (y/n) claimed she hated and yet needed to feel close at any given chance. 

“Trust me, baby, my dreams are all about sharing a bed with you and so much more.” With a wink thrown her way, Tyler plopped down on the bed. He studied her for a moment, taking in her wet frame while his tongue kissed his teeth and his muscular arms were locked behind his head. She needed to get out of here, needed to find shelter in the warm shower before her body would do something she couldn’t stop it from doing. 

“I’ll grab a quick shower.” (Y/n) didn’t wait for his reply, darting for the bathroom that was just big enough for her to let go of a deep breath. 

She hated that she had dreamt of moments like these, wondering how it may play out with Tyler by her side, having to share a bed while the world outside was ending. And all they’d have eyes for would be one another, no matter how many tornadoes called for them. 

Within seconds, (y/n) had shuffled out of her wet clothes only to step into the small shower. She couldn’t stop her soft moan from leaving her as the warm water cascaded down her back as if it were hugging her. The silence she was now offered forced her thoughts back to the longing she couldn’t shake, the need to take care of the pulsing between her thighs that grew stronger with every passing moment. 

Her fingers moved quickly, knowing that she didn’t have much time before Tyler would disturb her peace, desperate for a shower himself. With her teeth buried in her lower lip, (y/n) let her fingers circle her pulsing bundle, imaging Tyler’s fingers instead of her own. 

Would he touch her with the same kind of urgency? Would he draw the same moans from her she oh so desperately wanted to give in to? No, he wouldn’t. He’d make her feel things she had never felt before, clashing through her like a tornado stronger than she had ever been fortunate enough to study. Tyler Owens was her own personal disaster and she was close to letting him rip her off her feet, close to allowing him to have his way with her without being able to protest. 

“Fuck,” the word rolled off her tongue all too quickly, knowing that she was already close to giving in to her high. (Y/n) didn’t pay the ache in her forearm any mind, didn’t worry about the way her fingers begged her to move slower, all she was focused on were her thoughts that painted a picture of Tyler and the way he’d touch her.

And with her head rolled back and her lips tightly pressed together, she came. (Y/n) let her orgasm wash through her, rubbing her pulsing bundle a few more times before her tired body found its way out of the shower.

It took her a second to realise that she hadn’t taken any clean clothes with her, drawing yet another exhausted groan from her. Carefully, she opened the door, hiding behind her towel while her eyes found Tyler’s frame. No longer was he wearing his shirt, exposing his muscular upper body to her eyes which tried to burn every inch of his naked skin into her mind. 

“Tyler,” her soft voice drew his eyes from his phone. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”

She expected a snarky comment, anything to tease her and rile her up some more, but Tyler stayed quiet, eyes focused on the parts of her body that weren’t covered by the door or her towel. (Y/n) could have sworn that he had swallowed heavily first before rising to his feet to reach for his bag. His eyes stayed glued to her while he reached a shirt out for her to take, letting his fingers brush against hers for a moment. 

It was cheesy almost, the buzz of lighting striking her at the small contact. A touch so small and yet so significant, her mind would probably think of it for days and nights to come.

With a small “thank you” rolling off her tongue, (y/n) stepped back into the bathroom to put on the shirt, grateful that it was long enough to cover her panties. Trembling legs carried her back into the room, not daring to look at Tyler, whose eyes she felt on her frame. No words were spoken between them as he pushed past her into the bathroom, allowing (y/n) to deeply exhale the second she was left alone once again. 

……

The moments after Tyler had returned from the shower, wearing nothing but boxers that clung to his body just as tightly as his wet shirt had, had been filled with a tight atmosphere. Barely any words had been shared between them, not as she had made herself comfortable on the couch, not as he had turned off the light while stretching out on the bed.

She had turned her back to him to stop her eyes from wandering, knowing that no matter how tired she was, her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Not when he was so close to her. Not when she heard his uneven breaths that told her he was still awake. Not when she could easily move closer to feel him pressed against her. 

What was he thinking of? Was he still riled up by today’s chase? Or was he also thinking of those moments where he had passed his shirt to her? 

Even though she begged her body to stay calm, to not move back towards him, she lost the fight within seconds. Her front was turned towards him, letting her eyes rest on the parts of his body that weren’t hidden by the blanket, making her awfully aware of how close he was to her. 

This was unusual for them, quiet moments where neither spoke, where no teasing or bickering could be heard. Nothing but the breaths both let go of while he kept his eyes focused on the ceiling and she wasn't strong enough to look away from him just yet.

“I can feel you staring, pretty.” Tyler rolled his head towards her, eyes meeting (y/n)’s like lightning striking a tree, buzzing straight through it to set it ablaze. “What’s going on in that confusing mind of yours?”

“Just because you’re not smart enough to understand my thoughts it doesn’t mean my mind’s confusing.” The words had left her all too quickly, drawing a gritty laugh from Tyler. A sound she loved hearing, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. A sound that left her smiling the second her ears were fortunate enough to hear it. 

“You wound me. I’d say we’re a pretty good team when it comes to understanding your plans.” Heat spread through every part of her body, a heat she was all too used to by now but still didn’t know how to work with. She rolled her eyes at Tyler before refocusing on his handsome features, taking in every part of the face she knew like the back of her hand. 

Her breath hitched in her chest as he lifted the blanket, patting the spot next to him, “Come up here, I don’t need you complaining about back pain tomorrow.”

(Y/n)’s body moved without holding back, crawling to the spot next to him as if she had done this numerous times before. It felt awfully right to lay next to him, to feel Tyler’s arm slowly wrap around her middle to cage her against his chest. 

“Do you remember the first time we chased together?” She tried to stop her hand from moving as he spoke, she really did. But yet (y/n) miserably failed, unable to keep away from his soft skin any longer, needing to feel it beneath her wandering fingers as she traced slow patterns on the skin of his warm chest. 

“I wanted to break your nose that day, god, you were even cockier back then. Do you still think people instantly recognise you when you meet them?” He shook his head with a smirk playing on his lips, tightening his grip on (y/n) as she shuffled even closer. That day was replaying in her mind every now and then, remembering how he had misjudged her for a fangirl, expecting her to almost faint when shaking his hand. And yet she hadn’t known much about him, had never watched any of his videos before that day. Something Tyler hadn’t taken as lightly as he should have, turning into the cocky asshole she had cursed for the past months.

“I no longer care about that, only worry about impressing you, pretty.” He pressed a kiss to her hairline before he let his eyes flicker back to the ceiling. His sharp jawline was exposed to her wandering eyes, making (y/n) awfully aware of how easily she could kiss him right now. It took everything in her not to move, to hold still as her heart picked up its beat. Whatever it was that had urged her on to fight against him these past months, it was now gone, leaving her unable to fight back and in need of something more. 

“We both know that’s a lie, Owens. All you worry about is tornadoes and busty women who ask you to sign their cleavages.” Her laugh was mixed with his as he let his gaze find hers again while squeezing her side. She fought against his grip, hating that he had found her most ticklish spot that made her toss and turn against him. Tyler seemed to enjoy the sight, letting his fingers find the spot again while shifting her around to hover over (y/n). With one hand pressed to the pillow and his knees caging in her right thigh, he left her no room to move away from him. 

“Do I hear jealousy?” His eyes wandered over her face, focusing on her lips as she fought against the need to look away. “You know there’s no need to be jealous, pretty. All you gotta do is give in and stop fighting our bond.” 

A sharp reply was burning on her tongue, and yet her body managed to win the fight, letting her fingers find the back of Tyler’s neck to pull him in for a soft kiss. He instantly replied to the touch, adding more pressure to the kiss with his body shuffling closer. It felt as if they were burning, tied together like two matches setting a petrol station ablaze, ready to alight the darkening night. 

With every swipe of his tongue, with every moan rumbling through them, it set in further that this was finally happening, that they were finally crossing that last bridge. No longer was she set on fighting it, purely focused on Tyler’s touch and the need to feel him as close as humanly possible. 

“Talk to me, baby, what do you want?” Her mind was torn between the kisses they kept sharing and the feeling of him growing against her thigh, telling (y/n) that he needed and wanted this as much as she did. Her fingers combed through his hair, letting her nails scratch his skin with just enough pressure to leave him tingling in excitement. 

“Everything, I want all of you, Tyler.” Hours ago she would have cursed herself for giving in so easily, for admitting that insatiable hunger she had felt for months now. But she no longer found it in herself to care, could no longer shy away from having whatever Tyler was about to offer her. Her words drew a groan from the tall tornado wrangler who kissed his way down her throat while shifting his weight onto his knees. They held eye contact as his hands disappeared beneath the shirt of his she was wearing, finding their way straight to her chest. 

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me, every part of you.” His praises sank in like a ship hitting the ocean ground, sinking lower with every passing second, forever resting on the ground like the praises he spoke to her. Forever etched into her mind. Forever remembering the way they made her feel lightheaded and giddy. 

Urgently he pulled the shirt over her head, set on exposing her body to his hungry eyes. Tyler let go of another groan as he looked down at her, making a silent promise that he’d have to take a picture of her in that position one of these days. He dipped his head down to  suck on her nipples, making her moan for him while she spread her thighs for him. His core met hers, leaving both breathless as his clothed cock rubbed against her clothed heat – a feeling so intense, it only urged Tyler on to move further down her body. 

“Will you let me taste you, pretty?” Only a breathless “Please” left (y/n), drawing a smirk to his lips. She watched his eyes light up as he pushed her panties down her legs, looking like he was marvelling at art – art so mesmerising he couldn’t stop staring. 

“Let me make you feel good, baby.” Those were the last words Tyler spoke before his tongue brushed her folds, drawing a moan from the both of them. His arms wove their way around her thighs, keeping her pressed to him as he ate her out like a starving man, high on her taste and the sounds she made for him. 

Nothing but moans managed to leave (y/n), getting lost in the feeling of Tyler sucking on her pulsing bundle, while he pushed two fingers into her – doing just what she had imagined him doing in the shower a while ago. He instantly managed to find that spot that made her see stars as he pressed down on it with his fingers, forcing (y/n) to choke on her sounds.

“Oh god, Tyler,” he chuckled against her skin, letting the sound vibrate through every part of her. From the corner of his eyes he could see her fist the covers with her free hand, the one that wasn’t buried in his hair, telling him that she was already close. And yet Tyler knew that he’d pull away soon, wanting to feel her cum around his cock like he had imagined her doing the past months. 

Tyler had worked hard for her attention, knowing that he had fucked it up the first time they had met. She had instantly managed to push him off his high horse, bruising his ego with her sharp words he could still recite today. And yet it had only made him desperate for more, set on pulling her closer like no other woman before her. 

“I could die a happy death between your thighs, pretty, but I need to fuck you now.” The dazy look she shot him made him feel proud, knowing that she had been about to cum on his tongue. She didn’t reply, at least not with words, with nothing but a whine did she pull him towards her for another kiss. He shuffled out of his boxers, freeing his twitching cock with a few movements. 

“Let me grab a condom.” He left her side for a moment, allowing (y/n) to sort through her thoughts which were all over the place. And yet she couldn’t carry about anything but the need to feel him buried inside of her, knowing that once she knew what it feels like to have him so close, she’d never be able to let him go again. A thought that left her torn between excitement and anxiety, unsure what was awaiting them. 

“Do you still want this? We don’t have to do this if you’re unsure, (y/n).” Tyler’s whispers ripped her out of her spiralling thoughts. She shook her head at him before pulling back in, focused on his handsome face, mustering every spot she could blindly find. 

“I want this, want you.” That’s all he needed to hear before aligning himself with her heat and slowly pushing into her. With his forehead pressed against hers, both needed a moment to adjust, not expecting to feel this, unable to put the sensation into any words that would make sense to their minds. It felt like they had been made for one another, made solemnly for this moment that felt as if the world had spinning, thrown off its path. 

“Move, please, Ty’.” He instantly gave in, pulling out of her only to push in with more strength. Their bodies met with every ferocious thrust, sending bolts of electricity down her spine. She arched her back off the mattress, needing to be even closer to him while he kept burying himself inside of her. 

Blood rushed in her ears, drowning everything out but the sounds Tyler made, sounds so raspy and deep she feared it was another tornado growing in the distance, guttural sounds which left her walls fluttering around his cock. Her fingernails scratched at his shoulder, set on leaving red marks that wouldn’t fade for days, claiming him in the most primal way she could come up with at that moment. 

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you like that for the rest of my life.” The words roll off his tongue just like that. There was no way he could stop them from leaving him. And for the first time in minutes she finds herself ripped out of her state, staring up at him with wide eyes. But Tyler doesn’t say another word, all he does is study her while fucking her closer to the edge. 

“Do you mean that?” She struggled to speak, needing to ground herself before choking on her words. Their eyes kept holding contact, even as he nodded his head while watching a smile grow on her slightly swollen lips. “Good, I don’t want you to let me go again, Owens.”

He took the words as a challenge, adding even more pressure to his thrusts to throw (y/n) back into her dazed state. With his fingers circling her pulsing bundle, he knew that it was only a matter of moments before she’d cum around his cock, allowing him to take in the most beautiful sight he’d ever be fortunate enough to see. 

His name left (y/n) one last time before falling off the edge. His hips kept meeting hers, fucking her through her high while feeling his own crawling closer. She clung to him, murmuring his name like her own personal mantra as he followed her, letting go with a groan she’d forever remember.

It took both a moment to move again, for him to pull out of her and to get rid of the condom and for her to slightly shift around on the mattress, watching his every move with her weight balanced on her forearms. Tyler found his way back to her within seconds, hovering over her to press another kiss to the lips he’d never get tired of kissing. 

“Are you okay?” His whispers left (y/n) grinning, nodding against his lips while another wave of euphoria swapped through her. 

“More than.” Unspoken feelings were hanging heavily in the air, knowing that both would have to address them rather soon, but all they did was look at one another, marvelling at the person they never wanted to let go of again. “Thank you for this.”

“Nothing to thank me for, pretty. And hell, I’m not even close to being finished with you tonight.”

[gghostwriter]

Death of a Love Affair

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t.

Warning: angst with no happy ending

A/n: this felt oddly personal to me this is my first time writing in the Y/N perspective and in a one shot format so please be kind. I kinda left a possibly for p2, not sure about that yet, but let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Main masterlist || Part 2A (happy end) || Part 2B (sad end)

The first time it happened, you completely understood. 

You had an inkling as to what you were getting into when you started dating a 187 genius who graduated at a young age and who was scouted straight from college by the FBI. It wasn’t hard to comprehend these external circumstances mixed with his internal need to prove himself worthy of belonging with the big boys would result in missed personal events. It was a given, you expected it.

You just didn’t count on him missing your graduation. After all, he gave his word that he’ll be there to see you walk the stage and receive your diploma. He promised you and yet, as you scanned the crowd of loved ones hugging the attendees, there was no sign of his tie wearing, button up lithe form weaving through the crowd, no sign of his slicked hair, meticulously tucked behind his ears and no sign his doe eyed hazel eyes shining with pride as you joined the ranks of adulthood and unemployment.

You reach for your phone, now finally free from the nerves and adrenaline of going up the stage, with a single unread message from the one you wished to be here with you.

I’m sorry, angel. There’s a case and Gideon needs me. 

You sighed with a mild smile sprouting on your glossed lips as you sent back a reply.

No worries! We can celebrate when you get back. Be safe, I love you.

“Oh honey, I’m so proud of you!” Your mom exclaimed, reaching for a hug. “You graduated and with so many achievements—I mean look at all these cords hanging around your neck!”

You laughed as you stepped out from her warm embrace and watched joyful tears gather under her eyes. “Thanks, Mom! Hopefully all these cords help me get a job soon, huh, or else I’ll be moving back home with you.”

“Oh honey, stop joking! As if I wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms,” she quipped back. 

A hand holding a bouquet of flowers shot up to your face. It was a bundle of your favorite, carnations, in ranges of different colors. 

“Congratulations, lil sis,” your older brother, Trevor, breathed out. “Do I get a hug too or is that just for Mom?” 

You giggled as you stepped into his arms, happy to be sharing this moment with your ever loving protector of a brother, no matter how busy he might be as a head chef for his own highly rated restaurant.

“Hey big brother, thanks for being here,” you mumbled in his tight grasp. “Did you pass along my invite to Dad?” 

You felt him subtly shake his head causing your smile to slightly falter. You knew better than to expect the man who gifted you half of his genes to show up—a workaholic, absentee of a father whose love language was to deposit checks to your bank account from his fattened pockets as a lawyer for the rich. It was the cause of your parents’ separation when you were five years old. The matriarch tired from taking up the mantle as both the paternal and maternal figure for both you and your brother. Your mother exhausted from repeatedly believing broken promises uttered to herself and to her babies.

Having seen first hand how each lie wrapped as an oath chipped a piece of the loving and bright woman who gave birth to you and your brother, you vowed to never let that happen to you. It was a cautionary tale engrained in your mind. A fable—a curse really and in hindsight, you should have seen the markings of history repeating itself.

“Now, where is your nerdy pipe cleaner of a boyfriend?” He asked as he scanned around the vicinity for a sight of Spencer.

You shrugged, genuinely alright with your FBI agent of a boyfriend missing this milestone in your life. “Duty called. But that’s okay, we’ll celebrate when he gets back.” 

A pair of eyes, similar to yours, inquisitively studied you as if making sure there was no hidden hurt behind those words uttered. “If you say so,” he stated, turning to your mother who was smiling at the both of you—her greatest treasures. “Mom, let’s get out of here. I had John prep the kitchen for a feast.” 

You and your mom chattered excitedly at the passenger back seat as Trevor backed the four-door navy sedan out of the parking and drove off to his restaurant for the promised lunch graduation.

———

It was well into the night as you were settling in bed when the tell-tale signs of the main door being unlocked echoed through the dark green walls of his apartment. 

“Spence?” You called out, letting him know that you were there instead of in your own apartment, 30 minutes away. 

More shuffling was heard before the object of your love and affection rounded the bedroom door with a set of his own flowers on hand. He breathed out your name in reverence as he went for a kiss, pleased that he had still caught you awake.

“Congratulations, my love,” he smiled as he pulled away from your soft lips. “These are for you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” 

You smiled back, gladly accepting his apologies and flowers. “It’s all good, Spence. I know how demanding your job is. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. I told Gideon and Hotch that’ll I’ll be unavailable this weekend. It’s just you and me,” he said as he went in for another kiss, unable to resist any longer. Not long after, his outside clothes and your sleepwear were strewn all around the bedroom floor as both your bodies merged into one and reached a mutual crescendo with your gasps and his groans as the choir. 

***

The second time, you moderately understood.

You noted that the BAU was back in full swing with Gideon being brought back to the saddle after what happened in Boston. As his birthday treat, you both agreed to fly in for the weekend to Vegas to visit his mother at the facility. He never would have gone alone should it not have been for your enthusiasm to come with. You loved talking to Diana about Spencer’s childhood during her good days and you also loved being in her presence still even when she was lost in her teaching past—acting out as a student as you got to hear her lectures about literature. 

The bustling at the airport had you tip toeing up to catch a sight of Spencer, your flight departing in about an hour. It was a late Friday afternoon, travelers were piling in for a weekend trip, and he promised to head straight from the Bureau to the airport to meet you by the entrance. Your head swiveled from left to right, biting your lip as the minutes ticked by with no sign of your boyfriend running towards you.

The phone in your jean pocket rang and your heart slightly dropped at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hey pretty boy,” you greeted, naively wishing that this phone call wasn’t a bearer of bad news. “Are you almost at the airport?” 

There were muffled voices heard in the background. “Uhm—actually—”

You sighed, understanding what he wanted to say. “There’s a case,” you stated as a matter of fact. “It’s alright, Spence. I’ll tell your mom something popped up. No worries.” 

“You—you don’t have to go alone. We can always reschedule,” he suggested, the timber of his voice going up an octave as if he was in a panic at the idea of disappointing you.

“You and I both know Diana’s excited about this trip,” you chuckled as you recalled how her doctor had described his mother’s face lighting up every time she was reminded of the visit. “I’ll go and spend some time with her. Maybe even get her to tell me more embarrassing childhood stories about her perfect boy.”

He lightly laughed at your joke to ease the tension and remorse he was feeling. “I could have told you all of it if you just asked.”

“Well, does it include pictures of you too?” You teased as you were checking in at the counter.

There was a stern voice calling for his name in the background, it was Hotch, you silently guessed. 

“Listen, I have to go. The team is about to give the profile,” he rushed out to inform you. “I’ll see you when we both get back. I love you.” 

The call ended without so much of a chance for you to say it back.

As the plane got ready to take off, your mood continued to further dampen. He promised to go—to you and to his own mother via the phone. An ivy seed of doubt was planted in your mind. Did he try to excuse himself from the case to his boss as some sort of birthday gift? It really didn’t work that way, you knew, with how of a high demand his job is but still, you wondered if his team was informed about the plans for this weekend or were they purposely kept out of the loop. That notion wouldn’t surprise you at the slightest, thinking back. The profilers weren’t even aware of his mother’s state and condition. Hell, they didn’t even know that you existed, a girlfriend of two years, until well into his first year at the BAU. 

Deep down you grasped why he keeps Diana a secret. You were aware of the shame and embarrassment he felt for himself, having had to have her institutionalized by the time he reached the age of eighteen. You got that, didn’t mean you understood it but nonetheless, you respected his decision and was even proud of him for reaching out for professional help no matter how much he viewed that action of his cowardly. But what you weren’t really privy to was really why your relationship was kept in the dark. It could have saved him from Morgan’s incessant ribbing of his inability to pick up women.

During one night where your insecurities got the best of you, you asked in a small voice if he was ashamed of the relationship. He vehemently denied it, repeatedly saying that he just wanted to have a secret solace—a happy home to return to that was untouched by the worst human terrors that he encounters on the daily. That was what you were, he explained, a sunlit luscious reprieve filled with flowers and laughter where he could rest his weary bones from the ravaging, dark waves. His own piece of heaven here on earth. He then kissed your fears away that night, hugged you tight into his chest—the vibrations from his humming lulling you to slumber.

———

“I always knew it would take a special girl to understand my special boy,” Diana mused out loud as you plated a slice of cake for her. 

You blushed, sitting down beside her with your own. “He’s perfect. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” 

She affectionately combed through your hair, similar to how her son would. “Thank you. For visiting and being understanding of his erratic schedule.”

“It’s no problem at all, Diana. I love him, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.” You stated as the ivy seed of doubt sprouted in your mind—did you really? Did you really understand what you were getting into?

***

The third time, you still tried to understand.

There you were surrounded by the purest celebration of love and matrimony, sans your long-haired, sweater vest wearing plus one. Your brother was getting married to the love of his life, vowing himself to be with her for better, for worse and your other half was in another state catching criminals. Fiddling with the diamond engagement ring adorning your finger, you recalled how you ended up alone, dateless, in this joyous occasion. 

You RSVP’ed with a date when the invitation arrived four months ago. Your brother even calling in to make sure that he, your well-celebrated FBI fiancée, will be able to attend a month before the wedding. You internally scoffed at his repeated checking but in retrospect, maybe he saw the end well before you did. You promised to him, as Spencer did to you, that he’ll be available to watch the union and to save all the slow dances with him. But the day before the wedding, the phone rang for a case in Dallas and you knew what it meant. Without so much of a fight, you kissed him goodbye by the door of his now shared apartment and let the dreary silence enveloped you as you think of how to inform your brother of the new change without hearing the pity and patronization in his voice. 

Nursing a glass of red wine, you watched your brother dance with his newly wedded wife and in your peripheral, you spotted your mother approaching you at the table. 

“Now why are you being such a sourpuss during this festive event?” She chimed out as she pulled a chair beside you. “You should be out there, dancing and getting to know our new extended family.” 

You shrugged, unsure on what to say. She was right, of course. All the guests were enjoying themselves and basking in the warm, infectious glow of the happy couple but you didn’t have the courage in you to mask the despondent emotions inside of you.

Your mother sighed and took your left hand in hers. “You know, when your dad and I were going through the proceedings of the divorce, I had moments when I wanted to back out from it. I loved your father, still holds a piece of my heart till this day, and I thought the small moments of happiness when he was around would be enough to tied me through the days when he wasn’t. I thought those times and our love for you kids were sufficient to keep our love from wilting. If I poured out affection and devotion to the home we once built, it wouldn’t crumble surely. But you know what I forgot—”

You turned to face her somber eyes, looking into yours as if searching for something that seemed to no longer be there. 

“—I forgot to take care of myself. I gave a pieces of me away so willing and so many times that when I reached the end of the marriage, I no longer knew who I was. Where the piece of me started and where it ended. You’re withering, my flower. The vibrant life that I once longed to protect in your eyes is slowly dying. I don’t want you to reach the finish line and not know how you got up there. How you ended up giving all yourself away with not a flower bud left to blossom just for you.” 

You felt your hackles rise to defend the relationship. In hindsight, this was you denying the truth that was staring you right in the face. “It’s not like that with Spencer, Mom. It’s just—the job is hectic and it’s been his forever dream. He had finally started to gain his footing when Gideon and Elle left and then the kidnapping happened and that pushed his progress back a bit. But he’s getting there now. We’re stabilizing and we had a discussion—there’s less broken promises. It’s just that this recent case in Dallas was urgent and they needed the team to solve crime. I don’t want to take him away from the country and the people who needs his help and from his dream of solving crimes. I love him, Mom, in all of his entirety and he deserves all the respect and understanding from me as his partner.” 

She squeezed the hand in hers—the left hand adorning the ring, the material manifestation of his vow to you that you had happily accepted. “I‘ve grown fond of Spencer. I see him as another son of mine but darling, sometimes the love you feel for each other is not enough. A relationship takes continuous work—a task that both individuals must pull in the effort and prioritize. Just think about it,” she stated as she stood up. “Now, no more of this depressing talk and this serious energy from you. Go around, dance with your brother, and enjoy.” 

You mustered up a smile as you proceeded to do just what you were told until your feet were sore from all the dancing. But no matter the joyous occasion, it didn’t stop the realization in the form of ivy from taking roots and slowly covering all corners of your mind. 

***

And the final time, you could no longer understand.

The grandfather clock stationed at the corner of the dimly lit apartment struck at two. Your figure was still dressed in your purple fitted dress as you waited for your soon-to-be other half to walk through the door. It was another night of getting your hopes up and broken promises and you were no longer sure how much you could take before the love you held in your heart festers and turns into resentment. 

You promised yourself you’d never be in a situation that you had seen your mother once be in. You became the careful daughter of a careless man who gave little to no effort to cherish the love a woman had freely given to him. You thought with all your cautiousness and logical thinking, the mistakes of the mother would never be repeated. That was naive thinking—you realized now. By actively being aware of the past, you’d forgotten to look ahead and fell deep into the pitfalls of doing the same as your mother did.

Spencer once mentioned that there was a high divorce rate in his line of duty. How he worried and vowed that you both will never join that rate. And that was a promise he’ll be able to keep, you scoffed to yourself, as you spun the ring on the table.

Another shared piece of information floated to the forefront of your mind. How Haley had recently served Hotch, his unit chief divorce papers. You’ve grown close with her over the years, being the only two constant partners to someone working in the BAU. You’ve seen first hand all the missed milestones in Haley’s and Jack’s life as her husband flew around the country with the cavalry, saving the innocent one case at a time. Never taking the time to realize that the once solid foundation of their marriage was crumbling down with every flight he took. Similar to what was happening in the doctor’s own home. 

A set of keys unlatched the mahogany door and a fresh batch of florals were the first that entered through, followed by Spencer looking sheepish as he noted your presence by the sofa. “Angel, I’m so sorry I missed your promotion dinner.” 

Silence greeted him as he stumbled to get to where you were. “Carnations for you.” 

Tears started to form under your eyes. You didn’t want to break but the reality of your decision was setting in. You wanted to falter, to change your mind, to give him another chance but you knew you couldn’t. You’ve given too much of your understanding away and you doubted you have any more to give to this beautiful man who once promised to make you his top priority. 

“I can’t accept them, Spencer.” 

His eyebrows furrowed and his body tensing as if sensing the finality behind your words. “Why not? They’re your favorite.” 

“They are but—” you took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. “—I think we should stop.” 

“W-what? No. No, please,” he stammered out as his own set of tears started flooding his eyes, blurring you from his vision. “I’m sorry I missed the dinner. I’ll make it up to you—I promise just—”

The dam of your emotions broke causing you to freely sob out all the sadness and anger that had collected in your heart. “I’m tired, Spencer. You can’t promise anything to me anymore. You’ve broken so many promises that you’ll only end up breaking them again.” 

He took your hands into his, letting the bouquet fall crushed on the hardwood floor, recognizing the ring missing in your finger. “This time, this time it’ll be different. Please, don’t leave me.” 

“The country needs you, the BAU needs you. But I need you too, Spencer. I love you, I really do but I can’t be your third priority anymore. I don’t deserve that—don’t I deserve to come first before the country and the job?” 

He tightened his hold on your hands as if afraid that you were slipping through his fingers, denying the reality that you already had. “I love you so much. I don’t want to live without you by my side. Tell me how to fix this. Do you want me to leave the BAU? I’ll—I’ll do it, just stay with me, please.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to leave the FBI. Your ambition and integrity is one of the facets that I loved about you and you might end up resenting me down the line if you leave now. It’s not yet your time to leave the BAU, you and I both know that,” you pulled your hands away and slid the ring in front of him. “This belongs to you, I’m giving it back.” 

His shoulder caved in on itself, the weight of it all too much for him to carry. “I don’t want this to be our end. I just don’t.” 

“I don’t want this too, but I need to,” you whispered as your hand reached out to push shoulder length hair out of the way. “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe in the future we’d meet again and continue the pages of our love story but for now, I have to do this Spencer. I can’t keep giving a piece of me every time your top priority needs you, I’ll end up hating you if I stay.” 

You leaned in for one final kiss. A salty, tear filled kiss of death to a future you had once envisioned with the beautiful boy before you. A white picket fence with children laughing at the backyard—the American dream fading into nothing as you start to pull away.

“Goodbye for now, Spencer.”

He stared at all the curves and dips in your face one last time as if etching every detail into his already perfect memory.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

[jezebelblues]

slowpoke | h.s

summary: harry passes the lime torch to his son. or in which you teach your son how to ride a bike.

cw: fem!reader, literally sickeningly sweet dadrry. (also unedited)

word count: approx 3.1k

| dadrry never fails to cheer me up fr. i hope everyone’s doing alright in light of today, please take it easy.

— as a dv victim myself, i understand how the news of liam’s passing can be a really conflicting feeling to struggle with if you’ve experienced dv. please know i can be an outlet, and ur not alone. <3 ash

october, 2023 | london

The air was crisp, tinged with the scent of damp leaves and earth, as the soft sounds of autumn filled the neighborhood streets. Fallen leaves crunched beneath shoes, and the occasional gust of wind sent orange and gold spiraling through the air. In the distance, the hum of city life could be heard faintly, but here, in the quiet of their neighborhood, it felt like a peaceful little bubble in the midst of the bustling world.

YN stepped outside, adjusting her scarf that Anne knitted herself for her birthday last year. Harry followed close behind, his eyes shining with excitement, a grin lighting up his face. His curls tussled in the wind, his hand held tight on his son’s hand. His fifth birthday had just passed in May, and Atlas, their boy, was finally ready to take off the training wheels. Harry, ever the doting father, was already emotional prior to this evening—realizing his baby was ready for a big-boy bike already. His dimples crater his cheeks, the other hand gripping the handle of the small lime green bike, just the right size for Atlas’ small frame.

“This is going to be fun, bub.” He grinned, bending down to look into his son’s wide eyes. “Jus’ like Daddy’s bike, yeah?”

Atlas looked up at Harry, a glimmer of excitement mixed with nerves evident in his expression. “It’s the same color!” He mused, his voice tinged with wonder as he examined the bike again. His little fingers ran along the frame, tracing the lime green paint.

YN smiled at the two of them, her heart swelling. Harry had always loved his bike, the one he had ridden around Italy so many times, and now, here he was, passing that same joy to their son. “Do you remember how much daddy rides his bike around?” She asked, squatting down to his level and gently brushing a stray curl away from his face.

The boy nodded, his eyes lighting up. “He goes really fast! Will I go fast too?”

“We’ll take it slow first, mate.” Harry chuckled, a pang in his chest from the boy’s eagerness to grow up so fast. First was the bike, next was his eighteenth birthday. “You’ll be zooming around in no time.” He tossed his wife a wink, and she couldn’t help but grin back at him.

She looked down the street, a perfect place to practice—quiet and lined with trees, the leaves creating a soft, colorful carpet on either side. It was the kind of autumn day that felt timeless, like something out of a painting. The sunlight filtered through the branches, casting golden streaks onto the pavement.

Harry gave the bike a little jostle in his hands and then looked back at Atlas. “Alright, bubba. Let’s get you started—y’ready?”

He hesitated for a moment, chewing on his lip. He glanced up at his mom, seeking reassurance, to which she knelt beside him, her hand on his small shoulder. “You’ve got it, love. One pedal at a time, hm?”

“I don’t want to fall.” he whispered, his little hands gripping the handlebars of the bike as though they were his lifeline.

Harry crouched down beside him, his hand resting over his on the handlebar. “S’alright if you do. I’ve fallen loads of times, but guess what? Every time, I got back up. That’s what makes it fun. Falling down, getting back up, ‘nd trying again.”

She nodded, running small circles into her son’s back. “Daddy won’t let you fall, okay?”

Their boy looked between them, a flicker of courage dancing in his eyes, and nodded. “Okay, m’ready mama.”

Harry helped him position the bike in the middle of the street. He held it straight up for him, looking at him expectantly, but he hesitated.

His dark curls, so much like Harry’s, peeked out from underneath the spider-man helmet that seemed slightly too big for him. The helmet had been Harry’s doing, of course—safety was always the first priority. He tried to talk YN into letting him scour ebay for an old one direction helmet, but she shook her head with a laugh, insisting on either spider-man or luigi, his all time favorite characters.

Eyes that resembled his mother’s stared at Harry wide, his lips parted.

His eyebrows furrowed, lips pulling into a slight frown. “S’wrong Attie?”

He shrugged, casting a nervous glance toward YN who only smiled and sent him a thumbs up. With a deep breath, his fingers traced the handlebars, gazing up at his father. “Will y’show me again, dad?”

Harry grinned, a breathy chuckle falling from his lips as he nodded. He threw his leg over the bike that sat far too low beneath him. Atlas smiled widely as his dad unstrapped the helmet from his mess of curls, placing it on his own. He couldn’t get it to buckle, and it sat loosely upon him, if he were to tip his head it would surely fall off.

The boy giggled, running off to stand against his mother’s legs as she combed her fingers through his locks. Harry lowered into the seat, his knees nearly scraping the ground as he pedaled. He kicked off into a circle, wobbling purposely. “See, even y’old man has to practice a bit!” He smiled, making a loop around the ones he loved most in this world. He mocked a clumsiness that he had hoped would ease his son, and it did, as he fell into a fit of giggles. As Harry pedaled back to the start point, YN brushed some of Atlas’s curls from his ear, whispering, “You’re gonna go so much faster than him.”

He nodded enthusiastically, giddily running toward the bike his dad now sat off of. “Such a slowpoke, dad.” He grinned as Harry placed the helmet back onto his head, feigning offense as he buckled it under his chin. “Cheeky boy.” He murmured, gently pinching his cheek and wiggling his hand lightly, which cause his son to smile wider. Harry tugged on the helmet, making sure it was tight before he sat onto the bike. He held it steady as he climbed on, the boy’s legs wobbling as he tried to find balance.

Harry leaned down slightly, peering out toward the empty road in front of them. “Okay, high speed, m’gonna hold on while y’start pedaling. Don’t worry about steering jus yet, okay? I’ve got you.”

He made sure his feet were firmly on the pedals, his small frame looking both tiny and determined on the lime green bike as he nodded. Harry’s hands held the back of the seat steady while Atlas gripped the handlebars, his face scrunched up in concentration.

Atlas took a deep breath and began to push on the pedals, slowly at first, wobbly as he adjusted to the motion. Harry jogged alongside him, his large hands keeping the bike steady as he moved forward.

“Good job, Attie!” YN called from behind, watching as her son started to pick up the rhythm.

The boy smiled, and she could see the edges of his uncertainty melting away, replaced by the sheer joy of it. “M’doing it!” he squealed, the surprise in his voice making Harry chuckle.

“You are, baby!” His mother called back, walking quickly to keep up, her scarf fluttering in the breeze. “Look at you go!”

Harry let out an encouraging laugh as he continued running beside his boy, keeping the bike upright. “That’s it, Atlas! Keep going!”

He was pedaling faster now, but his hands were still shaky on the handlebars. His little body swayed as he tried to balance, but Harry was always right there, keeping him steady, making sure he felt safe.

After a few more feet, Harry spoke again, his tone calm and reassuring. “Alright, bub. M’gonna let go now, just for a second. I’ll be right here if y’need me.”

Atlas’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “Okay, daddy.”

Harry’s hands hovered over the seat for a moment, his steps slowing just slightly as he prepared to release his grip. Then, in a brief but powerful moment, Harry let go.

For a few glorious seconds, Atlas rode on his own. The bike wobbled a bit, but he was moving forward, his little feet pushing the pedals, his body balanced, and his face was lit up with pure delight.

“Faster than you, dad!” He yelled, his voice full of joy, and he could see the pride shining in his eyes.

But before YN could take another step, the inevitable happened. The bike tilted too far to one side, and despite Harry’s quick reflexes to grab it, Atlas tumbled to the ground in a flurry of leaves and laughter.

He was on him in an instant, kneeling beside him and lifting the bike off his small legs. “Y’alright, mate?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Atlas sat up, his cheeks flushed from the excitement and the fall, and for a split second, YN thought he might cry. But instead, he let out a breathless laugh, shaking the leaves from his jacket. “That was fun!”

She breathed out a sigh of relief and walked over to him, kneeling beside Harry. “You did amazing, sweetheart. That was so good!”

Atlas beamed up at his parents, his face full of pride despite the tiny scrape on his knee. “Can I do it again, mama?”

Harry grinned, ruffling his hair. “Of course, you can, buddy. Let’s get you back up.”

With Harry’s help, Atlas was back on the bike in no time, this time with even more determination in his eyes. His little body seemed more confident as he positioned himself, ready to try again. Harry stood beside him, keeping a steady hand on the seat for a few moments before slowly letting go, and this time, Atlas stayed up longer before wobbling.

His mom cheered him on from the side, her heart swelling with pride as she watched their son push past his initial nerves and embrace the thrill of riding. His laughter filled the street, echoing off the nearby houses, blending with the rustling of leaves overhead. It was the kind of sound they wanted to bottle up and keep forever.

Time passed in a blur of laughter, gentle falls, and moments of success. Harry’s patience never wavered, and YN couldn’t help but smile as she watched him guide their son with such care, the two of them bonding over each small victory.

At one point, Harry ran a few steps beside Atlas again, his eyes locked on his baby, a look of pure love and pride on his face. “You’re flying now, Atlas! Look at you!”

His grin stretched from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Just like you, Daddy! Look, m’fast like you!”

YN laughed, catching Harry’s gaze as he beamed back at you, his heart clearly bursting with pride. “He’s got your speed.”She teased. “Maybe more.”

“He’s got more than that,” Harry replied softly, his eyes lingering on Atlas before he fell to a brief stop, waiting on his wife to meet up with his strides. “Maybe a little of you too. I guess.”

And so, they continued—struggles of balance, wobbly starts, and triumphant rides that grew longer with each try. YN watched as Harry guided their son, his patience unwavering, their laughter filling the air, blending with the soft rustling of autumn leaves.

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, Atlas rode one last lap, his helmet askew, his grin wide, leaves swirling in the air behind him. YN stood beside Harry, her heart swelling with love for the life they'd built, for the man beside her and the boy in front of her.

"Givin’ his old man a run for his money," Harry mused, slipping his arm around her waist as Atlas played in a pile of leaves, tossing them into the air with a squeal.

YN smiled, leaning into him, her fingers curling around his. "Got a kink in my back already."

Harry's arms tightened around her as his wife smiles, pulling her closer as they watched Atlas giggle, his small hands sending a flurry of golden leaves into the air. The sound of his laughter danced through the air, mixing with the rustle of the trees and the soft evening breeze.

"Y'know," Harry whispered, his lips brushing her ear, voice low and filled with warmth, "I've been thinking–.." He paused, glancing down at her with a soft, adoring smile before his gaze drifted back to their son. "It's hard to believe our little boy's getting so big."

YN's heart swelled at the tenderness in his voice.

"He's growing up too fast," she murmured, resting her head on his chest as they watched Atlas dart through the leaves, his laughter filling the air.

Harry's hand moved gently to rest on her stomach, a subtle but meaningful gesture. "Maybe it's time we gave him a sibling. What d'ya think?"

Her breath hitched slightly, her heart skipping a beat as she turned her head to look up at him. His green eyes were soft, filled with love and hope, the idea of another little one filling the space between them.

"You want another?" She asked gently, her own smile starting to bloom.

Harry's arms wrapped tighter around her, pulling her against him. "I do. I'd love nothing more than to see him running around with a little brother or sister. Just imagine–..”He trailed off for a moment, his voice taking on that playful tone she loved so much. “‘Nother little Styles running amuck.”

YN let out a soft laugh, butterflies in her belly at the thought. She imagined it—another tiny hand holding onto theirs, another set of wide eyes learning to ride a bike, another burst of giggles filling their home.

Atlas, still playing in the leaves, looked up at them, his cheeks flushed, his energy endless. Harry pressed a kiss to her temple as her lips parted. “Dunno if the world could handle three of you.”

He laughed, nibbling her earlobe as she shook in his grasp from a small giggle. YN felt her heart flutter as she leaned back into him, the thought of growing their little family filling her with joy. She turned in his arms, catching his lips in a soft, lingering kiss, before they both turned their gazes back to Atlas, who was still gleefully tossing leaves into the air. "I think you might be right," she whispered against his lips, feeling the warmth of his embrace as they both imagined the beautiful future ahead-one filled with more laughter, more love, and the promise of another little soul to share it all with.

Harry only drew a sharp inhale as he wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, wiggling her into a hug with her feet a few inches off the ground.

Just as they shared a soft, lingering kiss, lost in the tenderness of the moment, they heard the unmistakable sound of their son’s giggles. Harry eased her back onto the ground, as they both turned their heads in the direction of their son, just in time to see Atlas bounding toward them, his small arms full of crisp orange and reddened leaves. His cheeks were flushed pink from the chilly air and his recent excitement, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

His curls bounced with every run forward, his laughter bubbling up as he raced over, his tiny legs moving as fast as they could.

Before they could react, Atlas flung the pile of leaves up into the air with an exaggerated grunt, his tongue between his lips in focus, wanting to toss the leaves up high enough to reach them. A flurry of vibrant colors cascaded down over their heads, the leaves scattered across their shoulders, tangling in Harry’s curls and catching on YN’s scarf, all while Atlas’s laughter rang out loud and clear.

Harry feigned a gasp of shock, dramatically shaking his head to get the leaves out of his hair. “Oi! What’s this then, Attie? Attackin’ us with leaves, are ya?”

YN couldn’t help but laugh, her heart full as she shook off the leaves, her fingers brushing through Harry’s hair to remove a few stubborn ones. “Oh no! We’ve been caught in a leaf storm!” she teased, looking down at Atlas, who was now doubled over with giggles, clearly proud of his ambush.

With a playful growl, Harry lunged toward Atlas, scooping him up into his arms and spinning him around. “Y’think you can get away with that, huh?” he said, his voice filled with laughter as he squealed in delight, wriggling in his arms.

Atlas flailed with laughter, tiny hands grabbing at more leaves as Harry twirled him around. “M’leaves! More!”

YN grinned, quickly gathering a pile of leaves at her feet, and as soon as Harry set Atlas back down, she tossed them gently over both of them. “Got you both this time!”

Harry let out an exaggerated “Oof!” as the leaves fluttered around him and Atlas, catching in their hair and sticking to their coats. The boy’s eyes were wide with delight, and he scrambled to scoop up more leaves in his little hands, tossing them right back at YN. “Mama! Catch!”

Before long, all three of them were knee-deep in leaves, tossing them high into the air and letting them fall down like confetti. Harry knelt down beside Atlas, grabbing fistfuls of leaves and tossing them toward YN with a mischievous grin. “We’ll get her, bub!”

He followed his father’s lead, giggling as they both launched leaves toward YN, who pretended to shield herself, laughing as she stumbled backward, covered in the golden debris.

“Alright, alright! I surrender!” she cried, holding up her hands in mock defeat, but her laughter betrayed her as Harry came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her down into the soft pile of leaves they had created together.

With YN now nestled in Harry’s arms, Atlas climbed onto her lap, still giggling, his cheeks rosy from the crisp autumn air. His small hands grabbed at more leaves, sprinkling them over both his parents as they laughed together, completely lost in the moment.

The three of them lay there in the leaves for a few quiet seconds, the sound of their breathing soft, the laughter having died down into contented smiles. The rustle of the trees above, mixed with the occasional burst of wind, made the world around them feel distant and peaceful. Harry’s arm was wrapped securely around YN, while Atlas sprawled across them both, eyes twinkling with joy.

Atlas suddenly sat up after a beat, throwing a final handful of leaves into the air. “More leaves tomorrow, Mama?”

YN laughed softly, brushing a stray leaf from his curls. “Definitely more leaves tomorrow, Attie.”

Harry grinned, ruffling his son’s hair as Atlas wiggled between them. “But now we gotta help y’mum make dinner, yeah?”

And as the last bit of sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a golden glow over them, they shook themselves of the grass and leaves, trotting into their home with rumbling stomachs and full hearts.