#didn’t expect him to be one of if not the most talkative

[minkieater]

luck → jyh 🂡

“if you are unsure on who is going to win, always bet on yunho.”

p. jeong yunho x fem!reader g. borderline yandere!yunho, non idol au w. alcohol consumption, smut minors dni PLS, cheating, stalking, yunho's fucking crazy wc. 7.7k

♫ —vermillion, slipknot “my dahlia bathed in possession, she is home to me.” 

his right hand completely enveloped two dainty, fragile wrists connected to two perfectly manicured hands, pinned above a very beautiful fucked out face. the french tips stared back at him as he lost himself fully, buried deep inside someone he most certainly should not of been. as he reaches the hilt of his pleasure, he lets it rush through him, consume him for that stolen moment of freedom before it drags him down all the same. 

he retracts his hand as he pulls out, taking a breath, but no time to waste, he has someone waiting at home for him, after all.

 the sweat is wiped off his forehead and his pants are zipped up before she could come down herself. it never really bothered him much, the cheating thing, but then again, he never really thought twice about it. he’s always done what he’s wanted, he’s never had any reason not to. 

he knows if she found out it’d be the end of their picture perfect relationship, and as inconvenient that situation would be, it makes the doing all the much more exhilarating. 

his heart is never fuller than when he’s with her, that pretty little thing. standing at a petite five foot something, her head reaches just the tip of his shoulder. it makes him feel powerful with his over six foot build, towering over her, having to bend at the hips to steal a quick kiss on her always glossed lips. 

she was perfect to him, perfect for him, but yet he couldn’t let go of sinking himself into anyone that looked at him with a twinkle in their eye. she’s smart, funny, thoughtful, attentive, and overall just sweet. but he loved the attention, loved the adoration, he loved to feel loved. wanted, lusted, appreciated — sometimes one person’s captivation just isn’t enough. it was never enough for yunho. 

he had the same routine whenever he did it, his little addiction: find his toy for the night, leave the bar, have a quick fuck, hurry back to the bar, cover his tracks, get home. 

even the nights she was at the bar he’d sometimes make it work, the logistics of it are all his genius, but he’d do it and he’d do it well — she would never question a thing. no one got his number, no one got his full name if they didn’t already know it, and no one expected to see jeong yunho again after that one quick half an hour, if that, spent with him. somehow, all the odds were forever in his favor.

that was, of course, until he met you. 

everything he thought he knew about his relationship, everything he thought he felt about his sweet little girlfriend, this perfect system that he’d created for himself, all of that went straight in the shitter the second you batted your eyelashes at him the first time. 

she was at home, sleeping soundly, which he was sure of because she had a shift early the next morning, he was out with a few of his friends after a long night of studying. she never waited up for him, never questioned who he was out with, she had full and utter faith in him. which, essentially, was her downfall. 

four beers and two shots deep, his waist was bent over the bar for yet another beer, no longer seated on the stool at the table with his friends. across the bar, he saw you, and the room went silent for a moment. beautiful face, perfect build, everything he looked for in a woman. he knew exactly who his target was tonight, and you knew it, too. but you didn’t find that out until later. 

you were preoccupied, talking to one of his friends, actually. you had full intentions of trying to take that husky, tall, blonde haired man home with you that night, yunho could read it all over your face. that couldn’t happen, that won’t happen. 

mingi would understand, right? he needed mingi to understand. he wanted you. he needed you. 

he waited until he got his beer, he even took notice of the bottle in your grasp and bought you another, too. he made his way around the bar, a predator stalking his prey, strides fluid and smooth like a snake preparing to attack. 

“you do know that you’re not supposed to take drinks from strangers, right?” you look to him with an eyebrow raised, and he knew then and there he was fucked. glossy lips, hair done to perfection, dress perfectly clinging to your curves — he wished he could cut straight to the point, snap his fingers and he could skip the build up and sheer work it took to get you where he wanted you. 

“who said we were strangers?” the same eyebrow lifts on his own face, smirk taking a now permanent seat on his lips, clinking his beer with yours in cheers. fortunately for him, game was his forte, mingi had to know he was a goner already. 

“i guess we don’t have to be,” you finished off your previous beer at the same time he did, trading it for the new one he brought, “this is the yunho you mentioned, huh, mingi?” 

“yeah, yeah, this is yunho,” mingi nods and his cheeks flush, out of embarrassment or annoyance, yunho wasn’t sure. he wished he felt worse for completely dogging his friend’s play, but when it comes to this, came to you, yunho physically could not hold himself back. 

“and who are you? since you know everything about me already,” that cocky smirk won't leave his face, and you’re not hiding that it’s driving you insane. good, just how he wants you. curious, interested, maybe even craving. easy. 

you introduce yourself, shifting your weight from one heeled foot to the other, “dunno everything about you, but can’t say i wouldn’t like to find out more.” 

check mate. mingi takes this as his cue to turn on his heel, bidding both of you goodnight. yunho would have to call him tomorrow, give him a proper apology. 

an hour later he had you on your back at a nearby motel, barreling inside of you like it was the last thing he’d ever do. when he gets into these situations, he’s never one to play nice, never sticks around, a big hit it and quit it type of guy, but what can he say? he’s got a beautiful woman waiting for him at home. 

but that night … that night he had the most intriguing woman he’d ever encountered beneath him. he even made you cum first, not something he usually tries to do, never a goal for each person on his list despite not a single one leaving his presence unsatisfied. seeing you across the bar was the prologue to the novel you were about to write together, sweat and spit the pen and paper. 

he couldn’t leave you that night. he knew he should’ve went home to her, he knew he should’ve gotten your last name, he knew he should’ve at least used a condom. but he didn’t. 

the first time he saw you, he knew he should’ve stayed the fuck away, knew he should’ve kept his routine consistent, he knew you’d be the one to send his head into a spiral. jeong yunho knew a lot of things, he’s a smart guy, but greed sits at the top of the list of his flaws, and you brought out the worst in him. 

maybe he needed a little bit of humbling, a wake up call of sorts, but the last thing he expected was waking up to the bed empty, a ghost of your figure laying next to him, the sweet smell of your perfume and sweat lingering in the cheap cotton. 

the worst of it all, he hasn’t seen you since. 

which brings him to two weeks later, where he emptied himself in yet another woman who looks like she could be your distant cousin, maybe a good friend that ever so slightly resembles you. maybe he’s just been looking for you in every single cervix he’s touched since that night. 

on the ride home, his brain is elsewhere, as it’s been after every single hook up he’s had since you. when he gets home and his pretty little girlfriend is waiting for him, he can’t bring himself to question why she’s awake, not when she’s pecking kisses all over his face, telling him how much she’s missed him. completely oblivious, a small part of him thinks she’s fucking ignorant for it. 

he knows what’s to come. if he keeps going down this road it’s only a matter of time before his feelings toward her turn resentful, he gets meaner, she gets insecure, he gets aggravated. he can see it play out in his mind, yet he’s indifferent. with her, without her, he doesn’t care. all he wants is to see you again.

if he could, he’d have no need for the girlfriend that waits up for him after the bar. no requisite for her making his lunches, washing his hair, doing his laundry, unzipping his pants after a stressful day. yunho wishes he could love his girlfriend the way he always had, but the truth is, the first time you sunk your teeth into him ruined any future he had with her. 

a month later, he saw your friend again. the one from that night who stood by, observing, looking through yunho like he was transparent, naked to the human eye. across that same bar, he couldn’t contain his surprise, couldn’t stop himself from widening his eyes or dropping his jaw. an invitation, an opportunity, an answer for his questions, first being where the hell have you been? when will he see you again? did you mention anything about him? did you at least admit he was a good fuck? he’s bursting at the seams with impatience, heart pounding so hard against his broad chest he could hear it. 

she didn’t give him much, not that he went about it in an inconspicuous way. pestering her with questions, pushing for answers, trying his best to seem interested but not flat out creepy. it didn’t work very well. he couldn’t contain his excitement, his urgency, his yearning, she could see straight through him once again. he was off his game. 

what she did give him was your last name, a common last name which was surprisingly a nickname for you used more often than not. she didn’t even notice the reveal of this key piece of information, not even when the wicked smile threatened to crack his best innocent facade. 

he didn’t sleep with anyone that night, didn’t look for you in any women at that dingy bar. he did go home and sleep with his pretty little girlfriend, who once again overlooked the smell of infidelity and heineken oozing from his skin, as she always does. when her eyes closed and her breaths turned rhythmic and slow, he pulled out his phone, deciding to do his research in the dead of night. 

there were plenty of people with your first and last name, but there was only one you. he found you with ease, and your page takes him by surprise. you post everything. it tells him so much, too much, and gives plenty of ammunition for his right hand that couldn’t resist the ache in his dick. by the point of post nut clarity, he’s cooking up an idea, which turns to an objective, a plan. he fell asleep with a smile on his face and a sense of urgency he couldn’t wait to fulfill. 

he waits until the next weekend, and not patiently. he’s checking your instagram every day, watching your stories off of a burner account, he nearly starts a list in his notes of places you frequent, your orders from coffee shops, things you like. he’d have to tell you to stop making it so easy to know you, understand you, to find you. 

it’s clear you’re a free spirit, not a thought in your brain that someone is watching you, examining you, waiting for you. but he wants you this way, oblivious, unsuspecting, surprised when he shows up to your place of work. maybe you’re used to the attention, yunho thinks, you’re beautiful and you definitely know it, too. as much as he has the urge to hide you, keep you from desiring eyes, he’s proud, in a way, that you can show yourself off so openly. you won’t hide yourself the way his girlfriend does, you didn’t shy off from him for a moment in those four hours he spent with you six weeks ago. 

his friends are surprised that he wants to go anywhere besides his favorite dingy bar in the middle of manhattan, especially with the luxury of a VIP section and bottle service, but he doesn’t kiss and tell. he quickly blamed the hastily prepared outing on his friend’s internship acceptance when his friends questioned the occasion, he’d rather them be unaware. especially with his girlfriend present, much to his dismay. he let them think he’s just a good friend, despite his intentions being more than culpable. the less they know, the better, even though a couple of them definitely have an idea — he couldn’t hide it from everyone. 

when they finally made it to the line outside of the nightclub, a smaller group of six, muffled pounds of the heavy bass from inside only increased the sweat on yunho’s palms. he knew you were inside, in a tight little bodysuit, sparkly tights and a pair of heels on your feet. he wished he could blame the adrenaline as his pants grew tighter, not on the fact that you were inside, not knowing he gathered a whole group of people and improvised an entire celebration just to see your face again. 

he immediately skipped the line, telling the bouncer his last name, and got the group inside with ease. different hues of purples and greens and blues reflected the ceilings, the walls, the tables, the floor. if he wasn’t so one-track minded he’d be overstimulated. he was brought to the section with his friends following closely behind, he forced the adrenaline to leave his face, his body, his hands. his scheme was set in motion, he needed to lock in, let go of any emotion that might incriminate him, make him seem suspicious. 

he ordered bottles, vodka, tequila and whiskey, three chances for you to make your way around to his section, maybe carrying a sign or carrying a bottle or simply clapping and cheering with your coworkers. when he met you, he didn’t expect you to be a bottle girl at a night club, but he supposed that explains why you haven’t been back to his favorite bar. he assumed you were a full time student, but if he had to guess, maybe a retail employee or a coffee shop barista, something simple, just to get the bills paid so you can live as freely as you want. he was thoroughly mistaken, yet he couldn’t complain. 

especially not when you made your way over to the table, bucket of ice and mixers in your hands, a huge smile on your face. he knew exactly what you’d be wearing: a tiny little black bodysuit that left nothing to the imagination, sparkling tights that mirrored the strobe lights so perfectly, a pair of heels so high he wondered how you were walking so smoothly. that wicked smile appeared on his lips again, the pride of victory flowing through his veins, despite him willing away any emotion reflecting on his face. he should’ve known his body wouldn’t listen to him when it came to you, but his plan had worked, you’re here, bringing juices and sodas and not helping his dick that refuses to soften in his jeans.

he catches your eye and keeps it as you bent forward, setting down the bucket on the table, someone else putting down the bottles beside it. yunho couldn’t be bothered to notice anyone else, not when you keep eye contact as the little show you put on ends, definitely not when you stare over your shoulder as you and your crowd go back to wherever you came from. 

as you get back behind the bar, a rush of adrenaline racks through you, you could feel the buzz all the way in your fingertips and toes. he’s here, he’s here, he’s here. 

you immediately run to the bathroom, checking your makeup, adjusting yourself in your outfit. he was the last person you’d expect to see tonight, you’ve never seen him here before, haven’t seen him at all since that perfect night you spent together. the past six weeks you couldn’t get him out of your mind, couldn’t stop thinking about his long fingers, long legs, he’s long everywhere. you’d never had a better one night stand — you cursed yourself every day since leaving before he woke up, not leaving him with at least your phone number. but a saturday night spent in a hotel, blocks down from that dingy fucking bar, he definitely didn’t want anything more from you than a quick fuck, never to hear from you again. you could be okay with that, you needed to be okay with that.

“boo, could you grab me a bottle of casamigos from the back?” the main bartender for the night asks as you walk out of the employee bathroom, frantically looking for someone to help her out. 

you pause for a moment, her question ripping you out of your daydream and you nod in response. you hurry to the back, grab a bottle, and make your way out to the bar. 

the spotlight from the dance floor might as well of shone directly on him as he stood at the bar, taller than everyone else, a sore thumb despite his dark clothes. you took a breath, a smile on your face, excitement flooding you. 

“hello there, stranger,” you say as you drop the bottle on the shelf then turn to him, “you guys went through three bottles that quick?” 

he shakes his head, “i like to take my time, you know that.”

“i know that very well, spine breaker,” you plant your palms against the bar, shifting your weight to one foot. behind the bar was slightly staged, that in combination with the heels, yunho’s height didn’t seem as intimidating. 

amusement laced his features, “then why’d you leave? i would’ve taken even longer in the morning,” he quirks a brow and your mouth forms a small ‘o’, that was the last thing that you expected out of his mouth. 

you shrug casually, not believing the words out of his mouth, “that holiday inn wasn’t very… enticing. if you were trying to romance me you should’ve at least taken me to a marriott.” 

this makes a chuckle escape his lips, “my bad, just wanted to get you under me as quickly as possible.” 

an ah leaves your lips with a nod, “which you did, so why are you standing at my bar? can i get you something?” you couldn’t exactly place why your tone turned irritated, you might’ve been hoping for a little more than that. 

“another night with you,” the corner of his lips pull up, a smirk appearing on his face, that same fucking smirk that pulled you under him in the first place. 

a laugh barrels out of your mouth before you can stop it, “go back to your little friends and get away from my bar unless you’re buying me a shot, yunho.” 

your words are leaving your mouth before you can think about them, your mouth moving faster than your brain. the last thing you want is for him to leave, walk away, forget about you. you wanted the same thing he did, even if you wanted more. 

he leans in closer and you fight the urge to step back, his tight jaw and lowered eyes daring you. you don’t give in.

“oh? was that a no?” his expression doesn’t change despite his playful words, “what a shame. i’ll meet you after your shift is over.” 

he turns to walk away and you can feel the heat in your cheeks. you call after him and he turns with a single eyebrow raised, “meet me where?”

“wherever the closest marriott is,” his playful smile returned to his lips, the same one you met him with. it excited you and made you nervous, you weren’t used to meeting hookups at hotels. 

their apartments, whether they live alone or with roommates, yes, but never hotels. it made you feel like a hooker first, and that’s usually a red flag and means someone is married, or worse, still lives with their parents. living in such a huge, expensive city, a hotel for a night isn’t cheap at all whatsoever. you decide not to think about it too much, let yourself bask in the excitement of being with him, and look forward to an entire night dedicated to letting off some steam. 

“who was that?” yunho’s girlfriend asks when he slides into the booth next to her, petting his bicep. her question is full of innocence, her eyes still bright, slightly glazed over with need, definitely from the one or two shots she took in his absence. 

“mingi’s favorite fling at the moment,” he gives her a tight lipped smile and kisses her head, pulling her closer to his side. mingi was always the easiest out, she bought it every damn time. 

the rest of the night he sat with his cute little girlfriend on the booth wrapped around the table, he didn’t see you again. he was fighting to keep his excitement to himself the longer he got away with it — not just his girlfriend seeing you, but you seeing his girlfriend, who wound up basically on his lap the more she drank. his friends drank and danced, the six of them together finished all three bottles, a few of them even moved out to the dance floor instead of their private section. as much as yunho hated places like this, he loved to be with his friends, see them happy, spend time with them in such a carefree environment. 

when it came up on midnight, yunho decided it’d be best to head home, taking his girlfriend with him. she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, which she usually did after a good fuck. after some drinks in her, he knew she was out for the night, she’d sleep through a tornado. not that there would be one in new york city. 

he even had time to shower before he headed out for the night, literally choosing your preferred hotel closest to the club. he got a room and headed over to the bar, having another drink or two before they shut it down for the night. he waited past two, three…

it was 3:45 and he started to lose hope. he realized you’d never even said yes — were you even going to show? did you forget in the craziness of your shift? what time did the club even close? when did you usually get home? these kinds of hours really mess with someone’s sleep schedule. 

every few minutes he’d glance at the glass doors, hoping and praying you’d walk inside. 

ten minutes past 4, you finally did walk through the revolving entrance, and relief rushed through him. ugg slippers, sweatpants, a hoodie and your hair tied up, all he could think is how excited he was to take it all off of you. his skin was burning with impatience, he almost leapt off his seat. 

“i was starting to think you forgot about me,” he starts, a curated smile placed on his cheeks as he slips from the faux leather chair. 

“a part of me didn’t think you were serious,” you respond in the same tone, coming to a still in the middle of the lobby. 

he couldn’t place the emotion in your eyes, you looked unsure, nervous even, from across the lobby. he made it to you in two quick strides, towering over your small frame. 

“yet you still showed up,” he wore the same face from earlier when he stared you down over the bar, eyes low, hungry. he could smell you, nearly taste you on his tongue. you still had your makeup on and he immediately knows there’s no way you had time to wash up, for some reason it made his pants tighter. 

“here i am,” you shrug, picking at your sleeve. you looked so small, your cocky demeanor from earlier far gone, replaced by uneasiness, an emotion he hasn’t seen on you yet. it fed his own power trip, in combination with his figure that completely enveloped your own, he felt on top of the world. like he owned you already. 

he huffed out a small let’s go and grabbed your dainty hand that peeked out of your sleeve, guiding you to the elevator, up to the room. 

“this is nice,” you compliment the suite, blacks and grays and wood accents filling the space. 

“everything you dreamed of?” he sits down on the bed, legs spread, hands behind him. 

“i wouldn’t say that,” a small smile appears on your face as you tuck a stray hair behind your ear, standing awkwardly in front of him. 

“no? after i got exactly what you asked for,” yunho slips a tsk out, tilting his head to the side and his chin up, staring you down from under his eyebrows. 

your giggle is nervous, “that’s not what i meant. i’m just wondering why we’re at a hotel,” your curiosity got the best of you, you physically couldn’t hold the question back, unable to shake the feeling of something being off.

“do you want me to be honest, or lie?” he asks, his voice full of amusement. the question takes you by surprise and you have to think about it for a second, there’s layers to that ask. layers you don’t know if you want to peel, something about his tone makes you not want to know the truth. 

“lie,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and a shiver crawls up your spine. that off feeling must’ve been your gut, fully awake now, talking to you, screaming at you, saying you shouldn’t be here. 

“i live with three guys, don’t wanna keep them up all night,” he licks his lips, the lie so evidently fucking clear on his tongue, the lie you asked for. the lie you needed to go through with this despite your gut begging you otherwise. 

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “that’s nice of you.” 

he shrugs, pulling his hands into his lap, slouching forward ever so slightly, making himself smaller. his body language is intentional, he could read it all over you that you didn’t need to be intimidated, you need to be comforted. feel at ease, feel the want, feel that same primal fucking hunger that was beginning to consume him. 

“i’m a nice guy,” his face contorts, an easygoing smile on his lips instead of that dangerous smirk, “come here, stranger.” 

he uses the same word on you that you used earlier and it evokes a smile from you, a genuine smile, he’s grateful that’s all it takes to crack you open. he didn’t have it in him to try anymore. 

as you take two steps forward he leans back, displaying his lap for you to sit. you wrap around him, your knees hugging his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

“there she is,” his voice is sweet and soft, laced with desire as he looks up to you, shifting himself under you, “been so long.”

you whimper out his name, immediately feeling him press up into you, your eyebrows furrowing. you wanted to be okay with this, wanted to press your gut feeling down, but you couldn’t. 

he mumbled out a hm? as he pressed close mouthed kisses to your jaw, his brain already miles ahead of you. you wanted to say fuck your curiosity, fuck the truth, fuck whatever he’s hiding, but it’s eating at you. you can’t relax in his touch the way you’re desperate to. 

“wan’ you to be honest now,” it was half a moan when it exited your lips, and yunho didn’t miss a beat. 

“no you don’t,” he spits out too fast, the truth keeping itself hidden somewhere beneath his heavy chestnut bangs. his hands traveled up your back, beneath your hoodie, “i missed you, wanna taste you.” 

as his tongue makes contact with the column of your neck you let out a hiss, his touch feeling like electricity, sending your brain elsewhere. 

he could tell. he could read it all over you.

he could feel the stiffness, the discomfort that touched every bone in your body, he was over it. how did he get here? he just wanted to see you again. he shouldn’t of answered that question the way he did and he knows it, but he also is willing to bet his life on the fact that you’ll fold. he can’t find a single scenario where you leave him, all alone in this suite, spending the night by yourself elsewhere. 

he thinks on it for a moment, an evil thought crossing his mind for a second, that one second easily spinning him into a spiral. did you have something else lined up? is that why you wanted to leave so bad? you were seeing someone else after him? an emotion he can’t explain is simmering inside him, something between rage and hurt and the urge to prove himself. he’ll show you why you missed him, why you needed him, why no one else will ever fuck you the way he can. 

he attacks your neck instead, sucking harshly and groping your ass under your sweatpants, making you jolt forward into his chest with a muddled moan. he chuckles in a low tone before picking you up and putting you on your back in one quick motion. you yelp at that, no doubt taking you by surprise, he can’t help but keep laughing. the laughter is dry, it’s knowing, it’s a little menacing, too. 

as he attached his lips onto yours, he can feel you physically melt into him. your body softens, that tension that once sat in your shoulders now gone, your fingers pulling into his hair. 

finally, he thinks. 

once again, jeong yunho’s winning streak continues, and he can’t help the prideful look as he looms over you. 

you audibly said fuck it. 

as long as his lips were on yours, his dick continued to press into your too layered core with experienced fingers touching every bit of your skin, you didn’t fucking care. you didn’t see a wedding ring and, shit, if he did still live with his parents, the hotel room was pretty nice. you could live with that. 

your body felt hot — too fucking hot. you had too many layers on, too much weight on top of you, impatience was crawling up your throat. 

“take this off,” you tugged at his shirt, mumbling between kisses, and he obliged. you took the moment of freedom to strip yourself of your hoodie, unclipping your bra with one hand. 

he watches in amusement, lips glossed over with your spit and a still growing tent in his jeans. you’re thirsty, you’re hungry, you’re itching for him. and he can read it all over you. 

“take it easy, we have all night, princess,” he comments, yet his pupils are blown and his hands immediately flocked to your chest, “such perfect fuckin’ tits.” 

“take it easy, my ass,” you laugh before he shuts you up quick, attaching a slick mouth to one of your nipples, making an involuntary gasp leave your lips. you arch your back and your head digs into the pillow, sizzling hot pleasure coming from every nerve ending, a moan leaving your lips as two fingers wrap around the other and pinch. 

“fuck,” you’re hissing out in pain and pleasure and he switches, soothing the sore one over with a soft tongue, rough fingertips tweaking the other. you buck your hips up and he chuckles into your chest, the vibrations against you only made you moan louder. 

he finally pulls away, looking down at you with hooded eyes that matched your own, paired with a snicker from your reactions, “you gonna survive me this time?” 

you smack his bicep with a laugh, “fuck you.” 

“patience, baby,” is all he responds as he reaches for the waistband of your sweatpants, pulling them down in one swift go. you feel the cool air hit you and you can feel yourself steaming, body too hot for the chill of the room that you didn’t notice until now. 

he peppers open mouthed kisses along your stomach, all wet and messy and hot. you whimpered, your hips bucking again at the stimulation, body craving more. muscle memory took the driver’s seat from the last time you slept with him, your body knew what was to come, and the anticipation was killing you. 

he spreads your legs, a strip of black lace standing between yunho and what he would choose as his last meal. he uses the pad of his thumb to rub you through your underwear, making quick circles across the bundle of nerves. his pressure was too light to get any real friction and you buck and twitch against his thumb, but he catches you before you can get any satisfaction against him. 

“yun, please,” you beg, chest growing hot. your knees are nearly touching the bed from your legs spread so wide, you didn’t have the energy to endure the teasing. 

“please what?” the corner of his mouth lifts, brown hooded eyes full of amusement. you whine, frustration getting the best of you, not a care for what you look or sound like. you needed friction, relief. 

“finger me, eat me out, i don’t care, please,” your words are rushed and breathy, audibly impatient. embarrassment is last on your list of worries right now. 

“yes ma’am,” he nods and pushes your underwear to the side, not even taking the time to fully take them off of you. you mentally thank him for it. 

he’s quick to spread your slick up your slit, letting out a pleased noise at how wet you are. you were wet the second he said the word marriott at the club, it’s been steadily accumulating since, you thought about him and what’s to come nonstop until you clocked out. he pushes a finger inside, hooking it upwards, pulling a guttural moan from inside you, ripping you out of your thoughts. 

your head shoots back into the bed, back arching, hips bucking into his hand for more. his other hand goes to grip onto your hip as you steadily rock against his finger, he’s amazed at how hungry you are for it, how shameless you could be for what you needed. he’s watching with wide eyes, not even pushing back into you, letting you guide yourself to pleasure against him. letting you use him. 

“almost forgot what a fucking slut you are,” his teeth are showing through his wide grin, eyes dark and glossed over. you’re a moaning mess, words already mushing together into something entirely unintelligible, grateful for some form of relief even though its nowhere near what you need from him. 

“only f’you,” you mumble out in between moans, eyes opening to see his gaze strictly focused on your cunt that’s swallowing his finger so greedily, “more, please?” 

“awh, you my nice girl tonight?” he finally meets your eyes, “whatever my girl wants.” 

he leans down and accompanies his finger with his mouth, immediately wrapping his lips around your clit. you yelped out, hands reaching out to tug at his hair, pulling him closer to your throbbing clit. he flattened his tongue against your folds and you started weeping, moans and words combining into a string of noises. 

he added another finger inside you and started at a brutal pace, tongue flicking at your clit at the same rhythm. his fingers curled with each thrust, looking for that sweet, spongy spot inside you. as your fingers tightened around his roots and a loud cry left your lips, he knew he found it. 

“taste so fucking good,” he said into you, not even bothering to look up at you. he was lost in your pretty pussy, the pussy he’s been dreaming about for weeks. the same pussy he’s been wishing for during sex with every other woman since you. now he has you under him, naked and screaming for him once again. yunho was overflowing with satisfaction and pride. 

satisfaction, pride and a lust so great, his cock began aching in his pants. he started grinding against the mattress mindlessly, in the same rhythm as he was using on your cunt, small moans and grunts leaving his lips just adding to your own pleasure. you could feel the familiar knot in your stomach tightening, building steadily. 

the same as him, you’d also been looking for another life-changing fuck since that night you spent together. all the worries you felt earlier were long gone, like they never happened in the first place. all that mattered was yunho and the impending orgasm he was giving you, this is all that was important to begin with. 

“close,” you moaned out, “i’m sofuckingclose yunho don’t stop!” 

he let you have it, let it consume you. it nearly blinded you, your orgasm, your head dug so fucking deep into the mattress and your joints locked up so hard it had you seeing stars on the inside of your eyelids. he guided you through it, steadily pumped his fingers and kept his pattern on your clit until you were thrashing against him, hands pulling up on his hair to get him off of you. 

he had half a mind to keep going, pleasure you through the overstimulation, he needed to see you cum again. with your eyes rolled into the back of your head, back arched up and lethal noises leaving your lips… he could watch it on repeat for days, months, years. it’s his new favorite movie. he let you come down, tore his lips off of you, slowing his fingers movements down to nothing. 

he quickly crawled back up to kiss you, tongue sliding into your mouth, and you tasted yourself happily. your hands trailed up his arms that stood strong beside your head, then down his chest, down to his waistband. your fingers slipped underneath his boxers to grip his length, and the action almost made him cum in his pants, his patience is running too thin. he’s so fucking horny, so blue balled by the mattress he just fucked his hips into like a middle schooler, he needed release and he needed it fast, despite wanting this night to last a lifetime. 

his hips bucked into your hand and you giggled, “i think you missed me.” 

“you have no fucking idea,” is all he responds as he pulls away from you, slipping his sweats down to his ankles and then off of him entirely. you make quick work of getting your panties off, the black lace seeing enough action for one night. you needed to feel him against you, all of him, no barriers. 

“enlighten me then,” you spit into your hand as he crawls above you once more, spreading it all over his already leaking cock. he grunts out, hips twitching, he needed you just as bad as you needed him. 

“missed these fucking tits,” he said as he grabs your chest, squeezing them hard. you kept your pace on his cock, tugging upward, circling your hand around him. 

“missed your pretty face,” he leaned down and planted a kiss on your lips then another on your jawline. 

“missed eating that sweet pussy,” he leaned down, out of reach for you to keep stroking him, and spit on your already too slick cunt while holding your legs up.

“missed fucking you stupid,” he lined himself up, spreading his precum and spit all over your folds. you hissed out, hips bucking to meet him, hoping to push him inside you already. 

“missed hearing you when you cum,” he matched your impatience and pushed inside, met with no resistance, sheathing himself inside you without hesitation. you screamed, screamed so fucking loud the entire hotel probably heard you, not expecting him to fill you so fast. 

“missed that sound, too,” he smiled, bottoming out, and you couldn’t respond. couldn’t do anything but breathe, the sheer length of him overwhelming, stealing your senses. he filled you so good, so right, you couldn’t form thoughts let alone words. primal instinct took over, your body moved before your brain could process. 

“need you to stop squeezing me so i can move, baby,” he grunts out, eyebrows furrowing, “missed this tight pussy too much, all i could think about for weeks.” 

“ho- holy fuck yunho, y’split me fucking open,” you choke out, trying to relax your muscles, trying to get your breathing even. 

“what’s that you called me earlier? spine breaker?” he asked, and his demeanor was too cool, too casual. like being inside of you wasn’t affecting him nearly as much as it was affecting you. you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you nodded, the only response you could muster. 

he chuckled, chuckled, while being balls deep inside you, “that’s a new one.” 

that’s all he said before he started moving. with no warning, if you weren’t sure before that he split you fucking open, you were definitely sure now. you were a screaming mess underneath him as he rutted into you, long fingers hooked under your knees, pressing them toward your head, you only got louder. 

“fucking h-hell, yunho,” you cried out, eyes lolling back again as he fucked into you at a harsh pace. 

“so fucking wet,” his knuckles were turning white at his grip on your legs, pistoling himself at a rhythm only he could keep up with, easily rearranging your insides. 

“you can take it,” he says before you can say a word, he can see your eyebrows furrowed, your moans muzzled down to small sounds of despair leaving your lips. he knows he’s being rough, he knows he’s fucking you harshly, but you’ve taken it before, so you can do it again. 

“yun, i don- i can’t—”

“yes you can,” he encourages, but it doesn’t feel much like encouragement as he only picks up the pace. 

he gives you a second to breathe when he pulls out, but he only flips you over, pulling you up by your hips so you’re on all fours. you hiccup, already reduced to jelly, you don’t know if your legs can withstand the force of his thrusts. 

“slutty little cunt has taken me before, she’ll do it again,” his words are just as harsh as his thrusts as he slips back in, pushing your back down into the mattress with a large hand when it inevitably rises to meet his thrusts. 

your face meets the pillow, turning to the side so you can at least breathe, tears wetting the mattress at his relentless abuse at your cunt. he reaches around your hips and brings a finger to your clit, rubbing quick circles, and god you don't even know what sounds are coming out of you at this point. 

tears and screams are leaving you, but your hips are fucking back on him, meeting his thrusts, and he’s smiling. wide, teeth showing, he’s so prideful. he knew you could do it, take him, take whatever he’s giving you, because you’re a slut. his slut. he won’t let you out of his hands again. 

“f-fuck ‘m close, fuck,” he can hear the sobs through your words, he only wishes he could see the tears that are now soaking the mattress, no doubt ruining your makeup. 

he could feel it in himself too, he was far too close to be fucking you like this. as much as he needed release, he wasn’t ready to cum just yet. he wanted to see you. 

he flipped you back over, slipping back inside you with ease, and your arms immediately hooked around his neck to pull him into a kiss. 

it was sweet, almost soft, the way you were kissing him when the way he fucked you was almost dehumanizing. like you didn’t matter, your pleasure was up to you, yet you both knew that was far from the truth. his thrusts kept up as he kissed you slow, nasty, tongues moving in tandem with another. you were whimpering in his mouth and he could feel you tightening around him, he knew you were close. 

“there you go baby, cum on this cock,” he broke the kiss, keeping your foreheads together, plowing into you with fervor. 

“gonna,” tears still streamed down your face, back arching so your chests met, skin touching skin. he needed you to cum now, he could feel his continence slipping. 

you finally tightened around him, really tightened around him, a high pitched, languid moan leaving your lips. he only repeated yes, yes as you shook against him, creaming around his cock. he finally let his release take him over, burying himself inside you, filling you up. 

you could feel every drop, the warmth spreading through you like wildfire, there was no other feeling like it. it was comforting, being so full, being so heavy with this huge man resting his weight on top of you.

he finally rolls off, laying beside you, catching his breath just as you were. 

“it’s kinda crazy that you came to my club tonight,” you take your hair out of it’s entanglement on top of your head, letting it fall free on the bed, “i really thought i’d never see you again.” 

“i’d never let that happen,” he shook his head, eyes closed as he laid beside you, chest still heaving. 

“what do you mean?” you turned to look at him, “you knew i worked there?” 

“nah, i’m just lucky.” 

[seresinhangmanjake]

Could I request Feyd and reader’s wedding from “his”? Or maybe how her life changes once she’s his wife and not his mistress? I lovelovelove all the prequels, but I’m so interested to see their future together!

Forever His

Feyd-Rautha x concubine!reader

Notes/Warnings: barely smut. discussions of babies. thank you for the request and for reading <3

Words: 1350

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

You’re his now. Completely. Entirely. 

Before, anyone could have attempted to touch you, talk to you, insult you—though unwise—and no one but Feyd would have blinked an eye. Neither would they have assumed that such disrespectful behavior toward you would result in their death. A concubine is meant to be touched, spoken to however one pleases, insulted if it’s what a man needs to relieve the stress and frustration from his body. With the exception of Leto Atredies, Feyd’s the only Lord you’ve heard of who has ever given a fuck about the concubine they keep while simultaneously demanding respect for them. And on his part to ensure that, Feyd put secret rules in place when it came to you that men did not often follow. 

Being so heartless by nature, no one would expect a Harkonnen to care about anyone other than themselves—it’s risky to hint that the cold-blooded are capable of running a little warmer than rumor suggests—and for Feyd to lay out his care for you to the masses would have undoubtedly led to your death, whether by the hands of enemies or the Baron himself. But that didn’t stop Feyd from enforcing his rules and the repercussions for breaking them.

Those rules led to the deaths of many, most dramatically of his brother and a Caladanian diplomat, and it’s a wonder Feyd was able to talk himself out of the responsibility for their lives when the Baron called for an explanation. But he did. Feyd kept you alive, untouched by others, unbothered by others, respected by others because you were always his. His, at first labeled so in one way, and now, labeled so in another—as a wife. 

His wife. A Lady once more—not of your home planet, but of Giedi Prime—and though your renewed status may not change the way a Harkonnen man needs to present himself to the universe, Feyd can now be who he wants to be without the Baron lifting an eyebrow. He doesn’t have to pretend not to care for you as deeply as he does, and neither do you have to fear the choices he was making for your sake. 

From the moment Feyd kissed you in front of those who declared the validity of Geidi Prime marriages, your worries were instructed to fall in line with the duties of a wife. But with Feyd—for Feyd—it’s easy. Be his woman; stand by his side; and bear him an heir. And those things, you can do. 

—

His fingers are digging into your hips, helping guide your movements as you grind and shift your hips. He never let you on top before, and he never answered you when you asked why, but you knew it was his method of protection. A psychological need that extended to the physicalities of sex. He had to be the looming one, the consuming one, the one who shielded the other from dangers that were not present in the confines of your room. But that changed as your title changed. You’re allowed to be freer now—uninhibited—and Feyd has been willing to teach you how.

His back teeth clench, jaw sharpening with his final grunt of pleasure. With his hand on your neck, he pulls you down, lips claiming yours as he spills inside of you for the third time in the night. 

Your chest rises and falls in sync with his as you come down from the high, and then he rolls you onto your back, remaining inside of you to keep his seed from leaving your body. “Do you think it worked this time?” you ask as you regain even breaths. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he says as he tries to do the same. “We aren’t going to stop until you’re pregnant with my heir. We aren’t going to stop even once you are.”

Your chuckle is cut short by another press of his lips. Then, there is a press on your jaw. Then another on your neck. Then that kiss turns into little bites that are sure to leave marks. It feels too good to stop him, though you probably should. One of the things that works against you as a wife that did not as a concubine is the marks he makes on your body that cannot be covered by clothing. Nibbles, scratches, bruises—all acceptable on the skin of a concubine. Not as much on the skin of a bride. But it’s a propriety that Feyd could not care less for. 

“Feyd…” The vibration from his hum tickles your throat. “I’ll get stares.” Glares, more like. 

He pulls back with a quirked brow. “Ladies from other Houses eye the marks I give you and suddenly you’re bothered? What for?” He hums again, low, deep. His voice matches. “They’re jealous their Lords don’t fuck them like I fuck you.”

You snicker. “Maybe.”

Not maybe, definitely. However, you know it extends past the attention those women do not receive from their men. The fact that you were a concubine at all raises their hackles. While the Emporer and Lords have their meetings, the Ladies sit aside, offering words when requested but otherwise remaining silent, and in that silence, they have much time to think and scrutinize and judge. 

They don’t care that you were a Lady of your own planet before Feyd; they care what Feyd made you and then remade you when he decided he loved you. And now, you remind them too much of their own circumstances: a wife competing with a concubine. Except you were the concubine and then the wife while they are the wives shadowed by concubine counterparts. You’re an image of what they will never have and what their husbands wish they could have with the women they’d prefer. 

“They’re never going to like you,” Feyd interrupts your thoughts when he sees you’re lost.

“I don’t need them to like me,” you tell him. You prefer the company of the other concubines anyway—those brought alongside the wives for their Lords. Despite the complexities of your past, you connect with them better. “But either way, you need to be more considerate.”

“No,” he counters, “I need to fuck and touch and kiss my new wife however I want, and she needs to condemn anyone who gives her trouble for it.” You mock a gasp of offense. “You expect me to hold myself back with you? You want me to restrain myself when I’m trying to put a baby inside of you?”

“You make it sound silly.”

“It is,” he says. “I don’t whine about the marks you make on me.”

“Because Lords marvel at badges of honor,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. 

Feyd’s chuckle is your favorite sound. You rarely heard it before your wedding—he was always too stressed over you, concerned about your well-being—but you became addicted the moment it hit your ears. 

You wince at the discomfort of him finally pulling out, and your body instinctively follows as if to keep him where he was. When he falls onto his back, he tucks you into his side. 

“What do you think it’ll be?” he suddenly asks you.

You’re momentarily thrown off until you realize where his mind has shifted. Snuggling against him, you say, “I don’t care. As long as it’s healthy.”

“It will be,” he says.

“And as long as we can keep it safe,” you add.

Feyd swallows. You know there’s a part of him that is aware the life you have is not the life you were meant to have; that this life is a product of your lack of safeguarding; that you were taken as a prize; that he took you. And no matter the joy you’ve expressed or your previous unwillingness to consider leaving him—not that he ever entertained returning you—trying to have a child has made it impossible for him to forget how you met. He struggles. Something in you appreciates that about him. It means you helped to change him for the better. It means when he becomes a father, he will approach it differently than his own parents once did. 

“We can,” he promises you. “And we will.”

[luveline]

hi jade!!! i would love to see a poly!marauders fic where they help r fall asleep please! absolutely no pressure at all just a suggestion ofc <3

“Why so moody?” 

You rub at your eyes, standing just behind the sofa. You’d been frowning when James spotted you, not wanting to ask. “I can’t…”

“What?” Sirius asks. 

Remus perks up from beside him. 

Three sets of eyes makes it worse and somehow better. Sometimes it’s easier to only tell one of them when you have a problem, but sometimes you need all of them to know. “I can’t sleep again. Are you coming to bed soon?” 

And listen, four people in one bed is insane but occasionally you manage it. Most of the time you sleep with James, less often Remus. You and Sirius tend to be incompatible while you sleep, because he grabs you around the neck and face for hugging and you wake up with sweat pouring off of you, blind. 

Perhaps that’s why he offers first and emphatically. “I’ll come to bed with you, darling,” Sirius says, a picture of concern as he stands. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, I’ve just tossed and turned for half an hour and I can’t take much more of it.” 

“She’s going insane,” Remus comments with a severe frown. 

Sirius helps him onto his feet. James, never one to be left out, turns off the television and gathers his throw blanket. “Not on my watch.” 

“Wait, I’m sorry. You don’t have to get up,” you say, wringing your hands behind your back. You hadn’t meant to summon them all to bed. You’d just wanted to know when you could expect an end to your agony. 

“Oh, well,” James begins, wrapping the throw blanket around your shoulders, “too late for that. Will you warm my side for me? I’ll lock up.” 

You feel shyer than you’d thought, shuffling back to the bedroom. Sirius’ hand finds your lower back as he enters the room from behind you, encouraging you gently to the side as he goes for the other. You’d left the sheets in disarray, the lamp on. James’ room is messy as always, but it’s your fault as you live from it most days. Remus is immediately put off by the overflowing dresser, closing each drawer with a shush over the runners. 

Sirius makes the bed, peeling back a corner for you. “Here, lovely. Climb in.” 

“I didn’t mean for you to wait on me,” you say shyly, embarrassed at their attention.

“There’s nothing I like doing more.” 

“He’s in a mood,” Remus says, though you’d guessed that already. “Enough room for me, too?” 

“‘Nough room for everyone,” you murmur, rounding Sirius to climb into bed as instructed. 

You and Remus end up in the middle of the bed, thankful for James’ sense of reality —everybody knew when you moved in together that the separate bedrooms wouldn’t last, but only James had the wherewithal to buy a very large bed. You’re immediately comforted by having one of them next to you, and Remus is very kind about it, asking in a murmur if he can cwtch you, wrapping his arm around your chest like you’re in danger of breaking from his touch. 

Sirius is less polite, but not less caring. If he thought you didn’t want him to touch you he certainly wouldn’t, but he knows he can hug you pretty much whenever he wants. He presses his nose to your face, Remus’ against your shoulder, the three of you deflating after a long day never quite this close to each other. You can feel a day’s worth of back ache leeching in your mattress. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. 

“Ooh, for what?” Sirius asks. 

“Making you come to bed.” 

“Didn’t make us do anything.” His breath warms your cheek as he talks. “It’s late. We would’ve been in bed soon.” 

It’s true enough. Everyone is in their pyjamas, Sirius smells like toothpaste. Still, you feel guilty for asking. And yet… you can finally relax now they’re here. It’s like they know exactly what’s been keeping you awake. Remus had cleaned and now holds your chest, Sirius reassures you and calms your stomach with his palm. 

James gets one good look at you all and rolls his eyes. “I asked you to do one thing for me. Jesus. Babe, could you move over?” he asks Remus, not giving him the time to comply before he’s in bed and smushing everyone even closer together. “This is fun. Sleepover!” 

“Just don’t start climbing on me again, Jamie,” Remus says. 

You close your eyes. “Don’t worry, they’ll chill out soon,” Sirius promises in a whisper. 

“Kiss?” you whisper back. 

Three different boys attempt to kiss you in the dimly lit bedroom. All the fuss doesn’t help you sleep, but knowing how much they care about you definitely does. 

[deadhands69]

A Fantasy with Nice Shoulders

MDNI

Katsuki Bakugo helps you after you're hit with a sex quirk, based on the same idea as the Shigaraki one here

Katsuki Bakugo x gn/afab reader

All characters in 3rd year, over 18 and you should be too if you're reading this

Warnings/Content/etc: soft but slightly possessive Bakugo, swearing, very light violence, oral (m/f receiving), slightly public/people listening, sex (various positions), walk of shame.

*the start’s a little angsty but idk how to write anything that doesn’t turn into mushy fluffy smut 

**a lot of feelings of not consenting to being hit by the quirk, but the actual physical interactions are very much consensual/have been wanted for a while

***this one’s long, it got a bit out of hand [4.9k words]

“They thought it would be funny” you hear someone say. A black cloud of dust had just dissipated, leaving a shocked Monoma and Mineta in the middle. “I don’t think they actually realized how dangerous what they did is” added another voice. 

You had all heard of the sex quirk villain terrorizing the city. Every news station had been talking about it all week. 

While on patrol for his internship this morning, Monoma picked the villain’s quirk up attempting to apprehend him to no avail. After some brief convincing from Mineta, they assumed it would be a fun prank to make all of the fem-bodied 3rd years a little horny. What they didn’t realize is this quirk doesn’t just make people a little turned on, it drives them to insanity if not dealt with. 

“A new article was posted on this today, the effects are worse than previously assumed.” you hear Iida’s nearly robotic voice over the crowd “It can cause permanent damage to quirks and mental stability if intercourse isn’t acted upon promptly!”

Oh, I could fucking kill them you think before launching yourself across the room. Monoma dodges and yells that he’s so sorry and will make it right before running out the door to get help. Mineta on the other hand, is still in shock.

You make quick work of him, leaving him tied to a chair in the common area covered in bruises. The teachers will arrive soon with Monoma and they can deal with it. Turning away and walking to your dorm room, you hear him hurling some insult at you but can’t be bothered to listen.

Most of your classmates are trickling out of the area. Fortunately, the others in your class affected by the quirk all seem to be taken care of. Your best friend Shoto is even leaving with his crush. You’re happy for him but can’t say it doesn’t hurt a bit that he didn’t bother to check on you. It’s not a big deal though, Momo needs help. 

And you’ll be fine. 

You think. 

Or maybe you won’t be.

The happiness for your friends using this as a catalyst to confess to their crushes feels sharply in contrast with the overwhelming loneliness and dread you feel walking back to your room alone. Sure, you have a crush on someone too but he left earlier this morning and you didn’t expect him to be back until tomorrow night. Bakugo frequently leaves on the weekends to visit his parents.

You consider texting Denki or Kiri for his number but they just left with their crushes as well and you’d rather not interrupt them. 

Besides, even if Bakugo was here, you don’t think that would make much of a difference. To put it lightly, he doesn’t seem to be into you. When you and Shoto hang out in the common area like you always do, his red eyes glare at you from across the room. Just seeing you seems to put him in a bad mood. He doesn’t even yell at you like everyone else, seeming to ignore your mistakes as if they aren’t worth his time to correct. He did argue with you once, the first day of school but when you threw it back at him he just stared at you. After that, he always seemed indifferent. It was disappointing, his sass seems like it could be fun sometimes. 

You’d since written it off as a lost cause and tried to move on. Still, there’s something that draws you to him that you can’t quite place. Something in his eyes that hints things could be different. 

You close the door to your dorm, comforted by the familiar space. Iida’s words ring out in your head again “...permanent damage...”

That’s just one article, maybe this won’t be as bad as they say you think before a dizzy spell makes you double over.

Flopping face first into your bed, you scream into your pillow.

Katsuki Bakugo just got back from the gym, walking into an uncharacteristically deserted common room. It is Saturday, right? His eyes light up when he sees Mineta still bound to the chair you left him in.

You didn’t fucking ask for this.

Someone finally snapped, good for them. He’s a little sad to have missed it. 

“What happened?”

Mineta stammers at the looming figure above him before blurting out random bits of the story. “t-the villain. Sex quirk. And Monoma- we thought it was harmless but then-”

Of course he’d heard all about this quirk, who hadn’t. Clearly Mineta.

“Are you that fucking stupid?”

“N-no we just thought-” 

Bakugo was losing interest, having put the dots together by now. At this point, Mineta was rambling how it would be okay, listing the names of their classmates who had left together.

“Jiro and Kaminari, Ochaco and Midor-”

“Raccoon eyes and Red, [y/n] and Icy Hot, yeah yeah”

“What? No. Todoroki didn’t leave with [y/n], he left with Momo.”

“Huh?” Curiosity replacing the disappointment in his voice. “Who’s with [y/n] then?”

“No one, they left alone. Serves them right. That delinquent’s the one who did this to me!”

“Glad someone finally did,” Bakugo mutters under his breath, smacking Mineta with a small blast while walking past him to the stairs.

Back in your room: you’re losing it. Every article says the same thing: you’re fucked. You’d read as many as you could before the overwhelming desire became too much to handle and you couldn’t keep track of the sentences anymore. You tried to fix it yourself too, but no matter how hard you tried your touch only seemed to amplify the problem. Leaving you feeling overheated, your panties desperately drenched. It’s only been fifteen minutes, this will get even worse.  

“Oh come on, you can’t just leave me here - wait!”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

It’s probably one of your friends, you think, wondering who would bang so loudly on your door (also who finished that quickly????) In the heat of the quirk, you’d taken off your hoodie - leaving you in a nearly see through white tank top and the tiny athletic shorts you’d been wearing all day. Your friend’s wouldn’t care though.

KNOCK KNOCK.

You make your way to the door, thighs clenching around your aching groin as you walk. Swinging it open, you find yourself face to face with a black skull hoodie. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest before remembering, he doesn’t like you. And he’s not even supposed to be here this weekend. Why’s he here?

“Bakugo, why are you here?” you grumble, sounding much more gruff than intended.

“Uh, nice to see you too?” his fingers tap impatiently on the door frame next to your shoulder.

“Any other day, I’d love to word spar with you but today I just can’t.” you turn to close the door.

“Why? Are you mad your crush left with someone else?” 

“What?” you rub your eyes in confusion before getting distracted. Bakugo is hot in workout clothes on a normal day. This quirk was rendering it nearly impossible to concentrate on his words. Not with the way every muscle in his thighs appears to be sculpted into his pants, leading up to his-

“Icy Hot.” he repeats himself, “He left with pony tail. ‘s why you’re pissed, right?”

Oh, that. You’d forgotten about that.

“What? No. Shoto and I are just friends. Besides, he’s had a crush on her forever and she needed his help.” you say blankly.

“You needed help too though,” that one stung. He continues, “sounds like a shitty friend if you ask me.”

“Look. If you’re just here to criticize my friendships, I can’t deal with it right now. Are you done?“ your voice breaks. You step back slightly, hoping to hide in the dimness of your room. He’s not wrong, but you really don’t want him to see you cry. 

“I-” he notices the tear in the corner of your eye and knows that one hit too close. He’s off to a bad start. If he keeps talking like that, you’ll definitely slam the door in his face. 

Much more quietly he tries again. “Look. I didn’t mean to- fuck, I’m so bad this.” Biting his lip, he wipes his hands on his pants before shoving them in the front of his hoodie. His cheeks flush, making the scar under his eye look pale in comparison. Is he nervous? That can’t be it.

Regaining his composure, he looks back at you. “I came to see if you’re okay, if you n-need anything.” 

It’s the most quiet you’d ever seen him. He can’t look you in the eyes. Glancing down, he notices how see-through your shirt is before quickly looking away. He focuses hard on the walls of your room, hands still deep in his pocket.

Of course you’d always wanted Katsuki Bakugo in your dorm room, but assumed it would be different. You imagined that one day he’d start fighting with you like everyone else and fighting would turn into play fighting which would turn into him being nice every once in a while. You always assumed, under his prickly exterior, he’d be soft and sweet inside. You’d never seen it though. Not even when the prettiest girls in your school threw themselves at him, only to be on the receiving end of an explosion. Still, you hoped maybe one day you’d be the one who could break through that, finding something loving underneath. Your crush was all built on a fantasy, but it was a nice fantasy. A nice fantasy, with nice shoulders. 

Back to reality.

He at least thought to be here now, which is better than the apathy you were used to. It’s a start.

Closing the door behind him, you turn to walk back to your bed when the world shifts. The dizziness had been coming in waves, this is just another one. You could expect it now. Tensing to hit the ground, you’re engulfed by his athletic arms instead.

“Come in,” you whisper “I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Holy shit [y/n], you okay?” he holds you in his arms, looking down at your face.

“Oh, yeah. This has just been happening,” you trail off, hardly aware of what you’re saying. You’re trying to find up from down, only to find every direction your body leads you to is him.

“This has been happening the whole time??” his clenched jaw could easily be mistaken for anger but the waver in his voice gives away his concern. He doesn’t seem to mind you grasping his sweatshirt to right yourself. His body feels warm against you, much warmer than you - making you wonder how he’s managing to be so overdressed right now. Pulling closer, he feels firm under his soft worn hoodie. He smells like laundry detergent and deodorant, with a subtle sweetness. The throbbing in your tight shorts worsens, the quirk-induced ache leaves you feeling empty. You need more of this. More of him.

The dizziness passes and you’re back on your feet. He lets go of you but keeps his arms near as you steady yourself against the wall. 

Deep breath. If your friends managed to confess to their crushes today, you can too. Your situation might be a bit different, but he’s not stupid. He knew very well what he was walking into when he showed up. He has to expect this.

Here it goes. 

“Bakugo?”

“Yeah? D’ya need somethin?”

“I need your help.”

“Whaddya need?”

“You.”

He nods, understanding. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Really?” That’s all it took? Holy shit.

“Pshh. What kind of a damned hero would I be if I can’t even fuck a sex quirk out of ya?” the mock confidence would normally make you cringe but he stepped closer and your face is now inches from his. His hands move to the wall behind you, caging you between his arms. Looking down at you, he pauses.

He wants to throw you on the bed. To shove you face first into the mattress and make you scream his name all day for every other girl in the dorms to hear while they’re being awkwardly fumbled by amateurs. He wants to fuck you as hard as he can, so good it’ll ruin anyone else for you. He wants to make everyone jealous of you. 

But when he’s right here with you. 

When he leans in closer. 

His lips barely brush against yours. 

Bringing his arms down from the wall, he cups your cheeks. Holding you softly, pulling you in closer but just as sweet. It isn’t the rough boldness you would expect from him, but it was explosive in its own way. Every subtle move of his lips drags up wishful feelings you’d been burying deep inside you for the past three years.

He pulls back for air, his heavy eyelids opening to see you confused at him.

“Oh.” you breathe.

“Did I do somethin wrong?”

“No, I just didn't expect that.”

He rolls his eyes. 

“You’re just being… nicer than I expected,” you clarify. Understatement of the fucking year.

“’m never mean to you” he mumbles. Even in the low lighting you can see how hard he’s blushing. To hide his embarrassment, he closes the gap between your lips again - this time with more confidence. Mouthes pressing together, his tongue dancing with yours.

Taking this as an invitation to move forward, your hands embrace his body. Exploring every inch you’d only dreamed of. The soft skin of his neck you’d grown accustomed to staring at sitting behind him in class. The ridges of his back you watch flex under his suit when he’s training. You take off his sweatshirt to run your hands over his arms, his black tank top giving you a better view of the muscles and scars that cover them. Fingers lingering on every curve. You pull your hands from the top of his chest down to his thighs. Your touch veers up his inner leg when his hand grabs your wrist, stopping you.

Grimacing at himself for the pause, he bites his lip to collect his words.

He definitely can’t say he hasn’t thought about doing this with you. He has. Constantly. To a point, he maybe wondered if it was unhealthy. It’s actually the reason he went to the gym this morning, he needed to think of anything else but your ass in the tiny little shorts you were wearing while casually making a cup of coffee. The ones you’re wearing now, pressed up against him.

But having you now? Like this?

“Wait.” His voice is gritty but softer than you’d expect.“What?” 

“Things ain’t gonna be weird with us, right?”

“No weirder than ever. Why?” 

He looks away momentarily. Not wanting to say it if you hadn’t been thinking the same thing. For his own sake though, he can’t bring himself to leave this unaddressed.

“Cuz I skipped a few steps, I was supposta take you out and stuff first.”

“Well, I’ll let you know to ask me out in advance next time I plan to get hit with a sex quirk.”

“‘m serious. ‘m not fucking this up.” 

“You can take me out later.” you smile, his eyes soften looking into yours. Something in his stare makes you melt like ice cream on a summer day. Is this the sweetness you’d always dreamed of?

Feeling too hot, you take off your tank top, throwing it on the ground nearby. His eyes drop and the corner of his mouth creeps into a smile. His hands move to your waist before gliding up to trace the shape of you. He follows your lead - pulling his shirt off and exposing the scars scattered over his toned body.

Granting your own wish, your hands trail down the V along his hips and into his pants. Closer, you need to be closer.

Without thinking you drop to your knees. The pants don’t leave much to the imagination, his outline appearing rock hard already (and he didn’t even get hit with that quirk). Peeling back the fabric, his cock bounces out heavily. It’s massive in a way that would usually scare you but with the audaciousness of a sex quirk taking over your inhibitions, you only want it more. Grasping the soft skin with both hands, you bring the dripping pink tip to your mouth. You have to. It’s so beautiful and you need it. He gasps as your tongue lolls out and you bob your head forward.   

One of his hands finds your neck, thumb gently caressing the back of your head; the other planted on his own face leaning over you with his elbow into the wall to steady himself. You watch his abs flex with every heavy breath before your eyes find his.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking good” he groans. You moan at the sound of his voice, sending vibrations through him.

He doesn’t last long. To be honest, he’s a little embarrassed by this but he really had been thinking about you in these shorts all day and didn’t expect this to happen. Less than a minute later, his hips are sputtering while he whimpers “wait, [y/n] gonna cum.”

Perfect.

Even in your throat, you can’t take him all the way in at this angle. Increasing the speed of your hands, you pull your mouth back enough to look up at his face again while still working his sensitive tip. His brows furrow and he bites his lip, exhaling hard while gripping your hair tighter. 

“Fuck… cumming” he whines through clenched teeth. His dick gushing in your mouth.

You stare up into his crimson eyes, licking him while letting his load drip through your lips down your chest. The astounded look on his face says he’s into it. 

Milking out the last drop, you let him gaze at you while catching his breath. You grab your tank top to wipe your chest and face off but he’s already pulling you up before you can finish. Pressing you back into the wall. His lips find yours as he cups his hand around your cheek.

“So fucking pretty,” he mumbles between kisses, “now it’s my turn.”

Suddenly, his strong hands grip the backs of your thighs. Not removing his lips from yours, he carries you across the room to your bed. Laying you across his lap, he takes the shirt still in your hands and finishes cleaning his cum off of you. Still worked up, every touch he gives is met with your moans. Noticing this, he works his hands around your body. Lightly grazing and squeezing where he pleases. Taking off the shorts he’d been daydreaming about removing all day. You’re soaked through your panties, pressing hard into him as his fingers gently pass over you.

“Wanna sit on my face?” he asks, knowing you’re dying to grind into him any way you can.

Absolutely, you do.

A little too eagerly, you shove him back onto your bed - he doesn’t mind. First, you peel the wet fabric from between your legs. Climbing over him, you position yourself above his face. Your ankles slide under his shoulders, fingers tangling with his above his head to steady yourself. You slam into him, dropping harder than intended (okay, you really want this.) A bit rough, but you know Dynamite can take it. Slightly overwhelmed at your enthusiasm, he groans into you before his wet tongue laps at your folds. Sucking and biting at your clit as you ride his face. His hand follows over yours as you move to grip his blonde hair. 

You’re almost there.

KNOCK KNOCK.

“Hey, [y/n] are you okay in there?” Mina’s distinct voice sounds through your door, “we’re worried about you.”

“Yeah, I’m.. uhm. I’m good.” you yell back, trying (and slightly failing)  to control your breath.

Glancing down, Bakugo’s eyes light up. Without warning, he shoves his tongue into you. Your world spins.

“Fuckkk” you moan under your breath, gripping his hair harder. He’s enjoying this.

Of course the other hero students would immediately jump back into helping people, but now? There’s no way you’re answering the door right now.

Shoto inquires next,  “are you sure, we read more and-”

“Yeah, I’m- I’m fine!” you manage to get out before throwing your face down and exhaling hard into a pillow. You feel your pussy throb as you cream on his tongue. He’s still not slowing down, determined to make you break. His hands now squeezing hard around your thighs, pressing you into him.

“I think someone’s in there,” Mina giggles. 

“We should probably give them space, it’s the manly thing to do right?” Kirishima adds.

“Wait, I wanna know who it is!” Sero’s voice chimes in. 

How many people are out there??

“In that case,” Momo adds, “[y/n], I made these for you. I’ll leave them out here, okay? Hope you’re being safe!” Something slides under your door but you can’t make out what it is.

You continue to hold your breath, clenching around his relentless tongue.

Finally, their voices trail off down the hallway. Bakugo (you should probably call him Katsuki after that) lessens his grip allowing you to roll onto your bed. Pulling your face away from the drool and bite mark covered pillow, you start to catch your breath. He presses himself up, rubbing his messier than usual hair and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. After a quick kiss on your forehead, his heavy footsteps make their way to your door and back before throwing a few condoms on your bedside table.

Useful. Thanks Creati.

He decides it’s his turn to be on top. With your legs wrapped around his hips, he slowly presses forward. His tip slides into your wetness and you feel yourself stretch around him. Bringing his lips to yours, he kisses you like earlier - soft, passionate. He’s being so sweet you wonder how this is the same person who was just tongue fucking you, trying to get you to scream while all of your friends listened. The same person who grumbled and rushed past you this morning without a hello.

“Ready now?” he grins at you.

Considering his glacial pace, you weren’t really sure when it happened: he bottoms out in you before pausing. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, scratching them through his soft hair. Thoughts of who he was earlier blur away, taking in the feeling of him in you now. He slowly resumes movement. 

His tongue inside you felt amazing earlier, but his dick is even better. Hitting every sensitive spot you didn’t even know you had. He sucks your bottom lip into his, gently nipping as he picks up the pace. You’re panting hard, kisses becoming sloppier. He thrusts into you, harder and deeper.

“Fuck Katsuki,” you moan, “gonna cum.” 

“Do it. Cum on my dick,” he growls back, slamming harder into you.

Your throbbing cunt pulses around him while you scream in his ear (you'd feel bad but it's not like he can hear that well anyways.) Hands dragging down his back, pulling him in closer to you.

A jolt of pain amplifies your pleasure as his teeth connect with your throat. Biting down while he whimpers into your neck. You feel him pump into you, exploding white into you while you ride out the waves of your own orgasm.

As you both come down, you run your hands over his scared face. Wanting to cling to any moment of softness you can get from him. He closes his eyes, melting into your touch. 

“Thanks for your help,” you whisper in his ear.

“Help? Oh. Yeah,” his gravelly voice is soft against your cheek, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, you don’t have to thank me.” He pulls out, leaving you feeling empty again.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, tying a knot in the condom before tossing it.

You stand up. No dizziness yet. You test your quirk. Almost back to normal.

He picks up another condom from the table, giving himself a few strokes before putting it on.

“Again?” you ask.

“You’re not through the quirk yet, are you?” His red eyes pierce through you and you know there’s no use trying to hide anything from him.

“Almost.”

“I can do better than almost,” he smiles and find yourself pressed into the wall again. His calloused hands running over you in contrast to his smooth lips leaving a trail of small pecks over your neck. 

In one fluid motion, he grips the back of your legs, pulling you up while sliding you back onto his dick - this time faster with more ease. You gasp, clutching his shoulders while he roughly thrusts into you. 

“ya feel so good on my cock, you’re doing so fucking good,” he chokes out between heavy breaths, "you look so fucking pretty taking me like that."

The pressure in your gut rises every time he pounds into you before spilling out, sending pulses of satisfaction through your whole body. You shove your head into his shoulder, crying his name while he fucks you harder. Toes curling as your heels dig into his back.

Before you can catch your breath, he throws you back on your bed.

Strong hands pull you onto your knees, your back arched, and face finding your pillow again. Grabbing your ass to bring you closer, he penetrates you again. His fast pace resuming, making you whimper into your pillow.

His hands find yours, bringing his elbows to either side of your shoulders. Groaning in your ear “ya sound so fucking pretty, louder for me,” as he plows into you. You scream, feeling yourself pulse around him as your pleasure cascades through you.

“Ka-katsuki” you whine, the sound of his name in your voice sending him over the edge.

With another hard thrust, he stutters his hips into you, exhaling hard. For the third time today, you feel him flex in you, filling the condom. You stop biting your pillowcase to look at him. His bright eyes staring back at you through heavy lids.

He thinks you look so fucked out and pretty on your tear-stained pillow.

“You did so good,” he breathes, “you feel better now?”

“Definitely”

Definitely better but 

So.

Fucking.

Exhausted. 

A sliver of light slices through your room. Your hands move across the bed but it’s empty.  Yesterday feels like a hazy dream. The ache between your legs reminds you it was definitely real. Your neck and hips are sore too, must have fallen asleep at a weird angle. Blinking your eyes open wearily, there’s a note on the pillow next to you. 

You know you should clean up more, go to the bathroom down the hallway but you’re so tired you can’t manage to do more than melt into your sheets. The last thing you remember before drifting off to sleep is Katsuki helping you get dressed for bed and wrapping himself around you.

Had to leave early this morning for extra training but let me buy you coffee. Text me when you wake-up and we can meet at that place on the edge of campus.

Katsuki xxx-xxx-xxxx

You check your phone. 

[you have 57 new messages and 14 missed calls] 

The latest few, from Mina, asking who’s in your room. Quickly, you swipe them away. That’s a long story and you’re not sure how you’ll tell it. You can deal with it later. You text Katsuki. 

You [heading out now, meet at the coffee shop?]

Katsuki [see you soon]

Getting ready in a rush, you quickly throw some pants on before brushing your teeth, pulling your hair out of your face, and heading down the stairs.

Walk normal you remind yourself on the way into the common room, trying to look like Katsuki hadn’t spent half of yesterday pounding his massive dick into you. The rest of the class doesn’t know that yet and considering that it’s new, you aren’t really sure if he wants them to know. That probably wouldn’t be the best way for them to find out, anyways. 

Ochoco’s voice beams behind you “Hey [y/n], you’re alive! We were so worried about you!” 

“Hey Ochoco! Yeah, I’m okay!” you yell back.

Hearing you’re awake, Mina runs from the couch to hug you. “Hey!!!” Her eyes widen. “You had a good night!” she says before giggling “I’ll text you!”

Mineta scoffs at the sight of you before getting far out of your way. Good.

Tsuyu, Iida, and Jiro all stare from the couch, they wave back politely but avoid eye contact. 

Denki high-fives you. 

Sero also high-fives you before running to the couch and handing Jiro money. Is this about beating up Mineta? They can’t possibly know about anything else.

Deku looks mortified. “Uhm.” He grabs at the collar of his shirt.

Is there something on your sweatshirt? Using the window by the exit as a mirror, you check.

Oh, shit. There’s more than something on your sweatshirt. 

Tiredly, you assumed the hoodie you woke up in was yours; this one has a big white skull on the front. Peaking out above that, a massive bite mark covers half your neck. You pull the hood up but it still doesn’t cover it.

You [just looked in the mirror]

You [why didn’t you warn me???]

Katsuki [now everyone knows ur mine 🧡]

[you have 8 new messages]

[yutarot]

IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]

eighteen — it was me. wc: 2.0k

you still.

the timing, the fucking timing.

your finger hovers over the accept button, the green light reflecting off your thumb as if its warning you off from the consequences of pressing it.

you couldn’t possibly accept it, i mean, after that conversation the other day, jaehyun drenched through at your doorstep as you implied your clear distaste towards him, you would just feel weak answering the call.

you didn’t need to know why he was calling. right?

so you decline.

it feels good for a total of 13 minutes. until he calls again. and again.

maybe it’s urgent, you reason with yourself. maybe he needs me.

but nothing in this world could ever make jeong jaehyun need you, you were confident of that after hearing all those rumours two years ago.

he never needed you. he never wanted you.

so why now?

fuck it.

the next call, you pick up.

he’s silent, but you can hear him breathing softly on the other end of the phone. and you’re sure that he can hear the same from yours.

after a few moments, he speaks.

“yn..” he says slowly, as if he’s testing out the word on his lips for the first time. but you know it’s not the first, and now your curious of his carefulness. “we need to talk.”

you sigh, but it’s not in annoyance. you’re not sure what it’s in, but it’s definitely not happiness either. it’s somewhere.. in between.

“did something happen?” you ask, quiet, almost a whisper.

you don’t need to see his face to know he’s saying no, that he’s saying there’s something else. his silence speaks the words for him.

so you continue. “i’ll be over in 10. this better be worth my time, jeong.”

he clears his throat, “thank you.” as he hangs up. leaving you wondering what the hell he wants you for.

and why the hell you’re agreeing to it.

you knock on his door, one, two, three times. it’s a little signature thing you and jaehyun used to do in highschool, he knew you were nervous to answer the door to strangers, so he came up with the idea of knocking 3 times, in even beats, everytime you were at eachothers door. all so you knew that it was him. all so that you would feel safe.

you move the thoughts aside when he opens the door.

this isn’t like the other day, this is different. he looks at you for a moment, a small hint of a smile tracing his lips before its gone as quick as it came, vanished into the cold darkness of the night behind you.

“yutas out.” he starts, “come in.”

slowly, you creep into his dorm. it looks exactly the same as when he started. it looks exactly the same as the night you confronted him about the rumours, the night you cried at him until your throat was sore.

you sit on the couch in the middle of the room, jaehyun sitting on the coffee table in front of you, leaning his elbows onto his knees as he looks to the floor.

“why did you want me here, jaehyun?” you ask.

he looks up, face unreadable.

he’s silent again. still.

all you can hear is your heart, speed gaining and gaining and-

“it was me.”

it stops. not only your heart, but seemingly time around you too.

you’re finding it hard to distinguish between the rush of blood to your head and the anguish you feel from hearing those three words out loud. from no one’s lips except the man you hate the most. the man you least expected to mutter them.

it.

was.

me.

they keep replaying over and over in your mind.

it.

was.

me.

you can’t stop it, like a broken record, a carousel that refuses to halt.

like a lie that spiralled too far.

“you’re lying.” you spurt.

it.

was.

me.

he gulps, shaking his head side to side in small, reluctant movements. in disagreement.

“i know how this looks.” he replies. “but yn, please-“

it.

was.

me.

“no.” you interrupt him, standing to your feet.

he stands with you. “please.”

the words stop playing in your head as you watch him. his eyes pleading with you, a face you have never seen him wear.

“please, yn.”

you sit again. he sits with you.

“fine.” you reply.

“it’s been eating away at me, yn. its been eating away at me since the scores were announced.”

your eyebrows furrow. you thought he was just telling you he had been sending you the messages, a sick cruel means of messing with you.

“what?”

“i sabotaged my own team.”

now, you’re silent.

he continues. “i’m a horrible person yn, i should never have done this to my team, i should have never done this to you.”

“…why?” you murmur.

“your mother.”

you look up, expecting some sick, disgusting ‘ur mom’ joke, but he laughs in exhale.

“no, no, no, not like that.” he says, “i’m serious.” he pauses to look at you, “you never told me the reason you started ballet was to continue your mothers dream, why did you never tell me that?”

“why should i?”

“because it changes everything, yn!”

his outburst shocks you, and he mutters an apology before continuing, speaking quietly.

“look,” he’s barely above a whisper. “i already found it hard enough to pretend i hated you. i couldn’t let myself beat you, i couldn’t take that away from you, yn, no matter how much you may hate me. i can’t hate you the way you do, me.”

you’re confused. so if he really did sabotage his team, that means he really is..

Y..

and that means that every single message he sent was true.

“but how…?” you whisper, confusion lining your face.

his head cocks to the side. you continue.

“how could you… mean any of that.. after what you did?”

his face goes stone cold. he looks back to the ground.

you quickly take it back, regretting your decision to bring that up. “never mind, forget i asked, im leav-“

“it’s not true.” he’s still staring at the rug below your feet. you can hear the clock on his wall, ticking away, and counting each and every thought as it speeds past your mind.

“wha-“

“none of it. none of it is true, yn.” he looks up at you, his face of pleading is gone, replaced by a stern expression.

jaehyun has rehearsed this moment in his head over and over, ever since you were 18. ever since he was falsely accused of using you.

he stands up, looking down at you and he speaks.

“i never spoke shit about you to any of the girls i slept with, yn. i never told them you were annoying, that you were ugly or that i was just keeping you around to make myself look better. i never thought any of that.”

you struggle to breathe, to absorb everything he’s telling you.

“yn, it wasn’t like that. i told one girl about you.”

“oh great, that helps, thanks jaehyun.” you say sarcastically.

but he interrupts you.

“no. i told her how sweet you are. how pretty and perfect you are. about how every time i would leave the room without my phone, you would take it and fill my camera roll with cute little photos of yourself. i told her about how i kept every single one, in fear that if i was to ever lose you, i would have a lifetime supply of you, stored away in my pocket.”

you blink.

“i never wanted to get rid of you, yn. i wanted you for myself. the only problem was, she wanted me for herself. so she created the rumour that i said all those horrible things about you, spread by other girls who wanted me like she did, in hopes that you would hear about it and leave me. and you did. and i don’t blame you one bit.”

“but…” you can’t process it, not yet. you can’t believe the words hes telling you. this whole time you had been so set on how you felt, you’d been so set on how much you hated him. “why didn’t you tell me the truth.”

“i didn’t want you to find out.”

your eyebrows fold in confusion and he explains.

“i was 18, i was stupid and afraid that having a crush on my bestfriend was a horrible idea. so i couldn’t let you find out. i decided that letting you hate me would be the easier option. well, for you. for me though, it’s was hell. well, i mean, i have all those selfies of you in my camera roll still, that helped a little.” he laughs, but you don’t find it funny.

jaehyun, the man you’ve hated for two years, the man you loved for many more. here he was, telling you how much you mean to him, to the point where he chose your happiness over his own.

“oh my god…” you whine, “how did i not realise.”

“what?” he asks, concerned.

“yuno. thats what Y stands for.”

he laughs, and it’s warm. for the first time in 2 years, you feel comforted, excited by what the future brings.

after talking for the next hour, you discover that jaehyun really didn’t realise it was giselle he slept with, thinking it was just some random ncu girl.

you no longer have reason to hate jaehyun and the guilt you feel overwhelms you. jaehyun realises that you have alot to take in, and he doesn’t expect an apology, but you can’t leave him without giving one. not after all the hatred you have given him.

he walks you to his door.

“goodnight yn, thank you for hearing me out.”

“hey jae,” his eyes light up at the nickname, just like the other night, except this time, the light lingers. “i’m sorry, for everything.”

“no, don’t be, it was my fault. i was the one who let you believe it was true. i was the one who let you hate me.”

you smile, “then.. thank you.”

“goodnight, yn.”

“goodnight, jae.”

he goes to shut the door, but you remember something.

you rememeber one message.

a message from Y.

a message from jaehyun.

“i’m over you.” you repeat the message as if you’re asking a question.

his eyes widen for a split second before settling back to his normal, cold image.

“i meant it.” he says, “im over you.”

you nod, slowly, giving him a small smile and twisting on your heel and out the door.

he shuts it gently behind you.

he’s over you.

his words come back, spinning over and over again in your mind.

it was me.

one word sticks out to you. one word slap-bang, directly in the middle.

one word that changes everything, yet nothing at the same time.

one word.

‘was.’

mlist — next

notes; my GOSH it’s been so difficult hiding this from u guys in the replies hating so much on jaehyun 😞😞 i really hope you enjoyed this chapter (if you’ve read the tags then you know what’s coming) thank you for getting this far, and i hope you look forward to what’s next!

taglist — open; @https-yeonjun @chenlesfavorite @therealbobbyshloby @f6llsun @jkslvsnella @nanaxwi @cloudmrk @neocrashed @vernonburger @vividwritess @taeeflwrr @mmjhh1998 @cyjzzl @stareaa @minkyuncutie @mrkleelvr @dudekiss3r @nattan127 @slayhaechan @jaeveil @tynlvr @mslora @nosungluv @grassbutneo @dokyriu @girlz4jaem @axo-l0tl @yyangj3lly @solvrse @m1ng1swife @gentlepeach @xiuriii @soobinbunnie5 @tocupid @apolloxxivmin @ctrlstar @gyuguys @tokitosun @i-kai @flamingi @mrkleelvr @en-dream @queenrachelpink @ssweetreveries @swanyvess @flaminghotyourmom @hyuck-me @cryingforjae @hizhu @starfilledgaze

[pedroscurls]

secret crushes (pt. 2)

summary: you thought you would be leaving this trip with hugh, but the feelings he has for you is just too much that it scares him. so, you rely on ryan and blake, unsure of what to do next. pairing: ryan reynolds x fem!reader, blake lively x fem!reader, hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 6.8k warnings: this is pure filth y'all, smut (f/f, m/f, fingering, oral sex - f receiving), bit of angst but i promise there's a happy ending, unconventional throuple, no use of y/n. a/n: shout out to this anon and @celestiamour / @celestiaras for this idea! i'm definitely out of my comfort zone with this, but i just love this dynamic so much. i hope i did this justice - they're just all good looking people and how can you not be attracted to all of them??? this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to blake lively, ryan reynolds, and hugh jackman. prev. part

“He actually left,” Ryan says, entering your hotel room to see you leaning against Blake in the middle of your bed. The entire week was spent with Hugh and you both barely left each other’s side, but it wasn’t until last night where he admitted that he was scared. The potential of the possibility of committing himself to you scared him. He had just gotten out of a marriage with someone who he thought he would be with until the end of his days and he had originally agreed to go to Hawaii to figure things out. To decide whether he was ready or not to be with you, but he hadn’t expected you to be here too. 

“I thought he was supposed to be a nice guy,” you whisper, hands wringing on your lap. “We had such an amazing week and… He just said he needed time to think, needed some space.” 

Blake’s rubbing your back, her cheek resting on the crown of your head. “He’s newly divorced, babe.” Blake says softly. “Give him time.”

You sigh and lie back on the bed with Blake whose arms wrap around you. She brushes your hair away from your face as you snuggle against her. She and Ryan had always brought you just as much comfort as Hugh did. 

“I can’t believe you guys thought it would work,” you mumble, feeling the bed dip as you look over at Ryan who sits at the foot of the bed. 

“Well,” he shrugs. “It did.” 

“For a week, Ryan.”

“I bet the sex was good though,” he grins. You narrow your eyes and grab a pillow to toss it in his direction, seeing it hit his face. Then, he tosses the pillow back in your direction as he lies on the other side of you. “He’ll come around, trust me.”

“I trusted you and came here,” you say, gently hitting his chest. “And now look what happened.”

“Yeah, you had the best sex of your life for an entire week. You are welcome.” 

Blake lets out a quiet laugh and stands up from the bed, hands on her hips as she looks down at you and Ryan. “Get up. We’re here for another week. Let’s make the most of it.”

Ryan nods, gently nudging you and pinching your side. 

“Ryan!” 

“Come on, baby. Whatever Blake says, goes,” he winks. 

“You’re both so lucky that I love you both,” you groan, sitting up as you stand from the bed. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t think about Blake and Ryan in a way other than friends. You had always been intrigued by Blake– her confidence was alluring, captivating, and her deep blue eyes always made you feel like you were the only one she saw. You wouldn’t tell Hugh or Ryan, but there was a brief moment where you and Blake shared a kiss on New Year’s Eve. 

And Ryan – well, you always imagined that the best way to shut him up was to just sit on his face. You were sure he’d devour you until you couldn’t handle it anymore and you wondered if he would talk during sex as much as he does now. 

Ryan comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tight against him as Blake leans against the wall, biting her lower lip as she watches the both of you. 

“Well, it’s a good thing we love you too.” He grins, kissing your cheek. “Can you imagine if we didn’t? My god, you wouldn’t even be here with us right now.” 

Ryan’s arms are so strong around you, but all you can focus on is the look on Blake’s face. She’s staring directly into your eyes and while you can feel Ryan’s length press against your backside, you can’t help but want to walk towards Blake. 

“Babe,” Blake calls out to Ryan. “Take the kids to the beach?” 

Ryan nods, brushing his lips against the side of your neck before he pulls away. “Yeah, baby. Take care of her.”

“Wait, wait,” you say, looking between Ryan and Blake. “Are you guys– Is this…” you bite your lower lip. “I don’t want to get in the middle of this and–”

“You won’t,” they both say simultaneously. 

“We both want this. Do you?” Ryan asks, looking over at Blake and then back at you. 

“I do, yeah,” you mumble, surprising yourself. “I just don’t want things to change between us.” 

“If anything, it’ll make us stronger.” Blake smiles reassuringly and then walks over to you, bringing her soft hands to your cheeks as she leans down to capture your lips. You melt into her, hands resting on her hips as you slowly move your lips with hers. 

Ryan can’t help the tightness in the middle of his pants, his manhood pressing against the fabric almost uncomfortably. He watches Blake’s hands move from your cheeks down your back, pulling you flush against her front. She darts out her tongue to flick against you, your lips parting for her.

“Okay, okay,” Ryan calls out, clapping his hands together as you and Blake pull away from each other. You don’t look at Ryan and neither does she, both of your eyes staring into each other’s. 

“I’ll be leaving now,” Ryan says. 

“Okay, bye, babe,” Blake says, twirling a strand of your hair between her fingers. “See you tonight.”

“Bye, Ryan.” You grin, glancing over at him as your eyes move from top to bottom, noticing how his hand moves the center of his pants to squeeze himself. He finally leaves your room and leaves you and Blake standing in front of each other. 

“You know, Ryan and Hugh do know about our kiss.” Blake smiles, breaking the silence. 

“They do?” you ask, biting your lower lip. 

“Oh yeah. The look on their faces,” she says, brushing her thumb across your lower lip. “Is this okay? Ryan and I don’t do this, but you– You’re really something.” 

“Well, I’m extremely attracted to you and to Ryan,” you admit. “And Hugh, obviously.”

“Hugh’s gonna come around,” she reassures you. “In the meantime, wanna have some fun?”

You grin, “you did say to have fun on this trip and be open. I just–” you say quietly. “I’ve never been with another woman before. It’s always been something I’ve been curious about, but–”

Blake kisses your lips, gently nipping at your lower lip. “Oh, I’ll be your first?”

“And probably my last,” you answer. 

“Good, I like that.” Blake grins. “But before anything can happen, how about we go and grab some drinks?”

“I can’t believe this trip,” you laugh, grabbing your bag off the counter and following Blake out of your hotel room.

—

A couple of hours later and you and Blake are facing each other at the counter of the hotel bar. You’re dressed in a pair of denim cut-off shorts and a white tank-top while Blake is wearing a spaghetti strapped, loose white summer dress. You’ve both had a shot of tequila and two drinks each and as the hours pass, you become increasingly more comfortable with her as you anticipate what will happen once you bring her back to your hotel room. 

“So, tell me,” she says, looking at you from the rim of her glass. “Hugh? Is he…”

“A very generous lover,” you tease, winking in her direction. “I’m still hoping that the space he needs will give him clarity and I’m hoping that he sees how good this can be.”

“He will,” Blake says matter-of-factly. “You don’t see the way he looks at you, but me and Ryan do. He’ll come around.”

“For right now, though,” you begin, biting the tip of your straw. “Do you wanna head back up?” 

Blake grins. “Yeah, that sounds like a great plan.”

Once you and Blake both pay for the drinks you’ve bought, you lead her away from the bar and back to your hotel room. You’re still very aware of her high profile status, so if anyone were to have captured any candid photographs of the both of you, it would certainly look like two really good friends enjoying a drink together. Besides, she is still married.

As you get closer to your hotel room and there are less and less people passing by, Blake’s arm snakes around your waist. You lean back against her as you swipe your key card to open the door to your hotel room. Once inside, Blake then leans down to press soft kisses along your neck, turning you around in her arms. You drop your bag on the floor and stare into her eyes, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. 

The gaze that she holds has you captivated. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest as your mind focuses solely on Blake. You’re nervous, but she provides a sense of calm and reassurance that you need. 

Then, you both slowly lean into each other, lips beginning to part as mere inches separate your mouths. You can feel Blake’s hot breath against yours, the smell of liquor mixes between you and you’re the first to lean in further, brushing your lips against hers. 

Blake moves her hands to your waist and brings you flush against her as she presses her lips firmly against your own. It intensifies within seconds, whimpers and moans bouncing off the walls, tongue grazing each other, teeth nipping and biting at lower lips. 

You walk backwards with Blake leading you until the back of your knees touch your bed. Slowly, you lie back down and bring Blake atop of you, your legs spreading apart for her to settle between them. Blake’s lips are so soft, so smooth as she moves her lips from your own to graze along your jawline. Her hands move to the button of your shorts, undoing it quickly as she begins to unzip. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of her teeth grazing your skin at your neck, brushing against one of your many hot spots. You feel the wetness begin to pool between your legs, staining your panties and you reach down to push your shorts off your legs. 

Blake has to pull away, leaning back on her knees as she grabs the ends of her dress to lift over her head. She’s kneeling in front of you in a pair of white lace panties and bra. You lick your lower lip, grabbing your own tank top to lift over your head as you toss it to the side. 

Blake’s eyes darken with desire, realizing that you hadn’t worn a bra with your white tank top. Your chest is exposed for her and without hesitation, she leans down to pepper kisses along your chest, moving her lips closer to your peak. When her soft lips wrap around your nipple, you arch your back up into her, hand moving to rest on her shoulder. 

She then moves her focus onto your other breast as you reach up to undo her bra. You watch it fall from her frame and immediately, you gasp at the sight of her exposed front. Blake then begins to place light kisses up your chest until her lips hover above yours. Your chests press against one another and you feel Blake reach down to run her fingers across your throbbing heat, your panties completely soaked.

“I’m just as wet,” Blake whispers, pushing your panties to the side to run a finger across your folds. 

A shiver runs down your back as you part your legs even further for her, rolling your hips anxiously. Blake smiles to herself, her own heat throbbing in anticipation. From the moment Blake met you, she had always been so attracted to you. Your work ethic, your dedication, your kindness… She always felt drawn to you. 

You reach between your bodies and gently tug on her panties, feeling her wiggle them free from her legs as she hovers above you completely exposed. You slowly roll her onto her back, biting your lower lip at the sight of her. You pull your own panties off and then reach between her legs, slowly sliding a finger past her folds. 

It excites you, knowing that you’re making Blake feel this way. You watch as she rolls her eyes shut, biting her lower lip as a quiet whimper escapes her. You lean down, pressing soft kisses along her jawline as you begin to pump your finger in and out of her, slowly sliding in a second one. 

Before you can even continue and bring Blake closer to the edge, she pulls your hand away. She’s about to say something, but is ultimately left speechless when she sees you bring your fingers to your mouth and suck the remnants of her off. 

“Wow, you’re naughty,” she grins. Then, Blake pulls you down and gently moves you to rest on your abdomen. You’re about to turn over on your back, but she instead lies on her side next to you, reaching down to spread your legs. You rest your cheek against the mattress, lifting one leg up against the bed, opening yourself up for her. “I would have never guessed,” she says, moving one hand down to run along your back and down to your backside, giving it a tight squeeze. 

Blake then reaches between your legs and slides two fingers in without warning. You push back against her, a loud moan escaping your lips as she wastes no time in beginning to pump her fingers in and out of your depths. You’re so wet that the sounds of squelching echo off the walls. She rests her lips against the back of your shoulder, using her other hand to wrap around you and reach down to grasp your breast, massaging it into the pit of her palm.

She can feel you getting close. You’re squirming against her, trying to break free from the sensation because she knows that when you reach your high, you’re going to shake and tremble against her. So, Blake keeps a tight hold on you, gently biting down on the back of your shoulder as she pulls her fingers out of you and rolls you onto your back. Without waiting for you to catch your breath, she brings her hand back down and rubs your clit so fast that your hand shoots out to hold onto her wrist. 

“Oh, you’re almost there,” she grins. Your free hand grips the sheets of the mattress, knuckles turning white from the tight grip as your back begins to arch in the air, toes curling at the sensation.

“Blake,” you whimper. “Oh god, Blake!” As you begin to reach your high, Blake then thrusts two fingers back inside of you, pumping them in and out at a fast pace to allow you to ride out your orgasm. 

After a few seconds, Blake lies back down next to you and brings her fingers to her lips to suck off your release. She grins in your direction, seeing your chest heave up and down as you try to catch your breath. She then reaches for her phone and snaps a picture of the both of you. The photo isn’t revealing much– it’s just a photo of the both of you obviously lying down in bed, hair messy against the white sheets as you look completely fucked. You look so spent, so satisfied and your lower lip is caught between your teeth when she takes the picture. It’s very obvious that you two were having sex, completely naked, the frame stopping just a bit past each of your collarbones. 

You hear a quiet whoosh sound and look at her. “Did you just send that to–” Then, your phone vibrates and you reach for it on the nightstand. A few more vibrations come through and you hear her quietly whisper, shit. 

Furrowing a brow, you look down at your phone and widen your eyes. “You sent that to our group chat?! With Hugh?! Blake!” 

It’s a group chat with you, Blake, Ryan, and Hugh. Ryan loved the photograph and sent a snarky remark, but Hugh… All Hugh said was Damn. 

You toss your phone to the side and then climb on top of Blake, looking down at her. “I can’t believe you just did that.” 

“Hey,” she grins, hands resting on your hips. “As much as I enjoyed this – and we aren’t even yet done – Hugh’s the person for you… and he’s gonna certainly regret leaving you the way he did.”

You roll your eyes and lean down to peck her lips. “You’re insane,” you chuckle.

Blake shrugs, “Maybe, but you love me.”

“I do,” you chuckle, moving your lips to her jawline. “And I’m gonna show you just how much I do.” Then, you lower yourself even further until you're at eye level with her heat, leaning in instantly to lick a stripe across her folds. Oh, the night was only just beginning.

—

After a couple of days since sleeping with Blake, Ryan decides to take you out. You’re feeling a lot better since Hugh left and you had Blake and Ryan to thank. After that picture that Blake sent to the group chat, Hugh had only reached out to you once. He didn’t say much or didn’t give any indication that he had made up his mind of what he wanted, but it was enough for you. 

HUGH: I’ll see you when you get back to New York. 

One simple text unnerved you. You were excited, but nervous. Hopeful, but anxious. At least it gave you peace of mind that you would at least have a conversation with him. 

You only had a few more days left in Hawaii, so Ryan had something special planned. He didn’t say exactly what, but he did say to wear a bathing suit. So, you’re dressed in a yellow floral two-piece. Similarly to the same bikini that you wore when you saw Hugh for the first time since the trip, you tie the knots of your bottom, letting it rest on your hips as you tie your bikini top at the base of your neck and back. 

You slip on an oversized white t-shirt and grab your bag, stepping out of your hotel room to see Ryan at the end of the hall. He’s dressed in a white tank-top and light blue board shorts, paired with a baseball cap and his sunglasses hooked on his tank top. You approach him and smile, wrapping your arms around his large frame. 

“Hey, naughty girl,” he teases with a wink, pressing a gentle kiss on your temple. “I heard amazing things.”

You roll your eyes and gently slap his chest, feeling him reach for your hand to pull you against his side as he leads you back towards the elevators. “Not even a hi, good morning, how are you doing today? from you, huh?”

Ryan scoffs. “Not a chance.” He lets out a quiet laugh and then enters the elevator with you, pressing the button to the lobby as he looks at you. “But fine, hi, good morning. How are you doing today?”

You laugh with him and shake your head. “I’m okay. Hugh texted me last night.” 

Ryan’s arms cross over his chest and you notice the muscles at his arms. You bite your lower lip and then catch his gaze, a knowing smirk on his lips. “And what did our dear friend Hughie say?” 

“He said he’d see me when I get back to New York.”

“Ominous,” Ryan points out, leading you out of the elevators and towards the lobby where a car was waiting for the both of you. 

“You’re such a bad liar,” you repeat. “You already know he texted me, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Ryan shrugs. “But maybe not.”

“You two are best friends. I’m sure you guys talk about everything.”

Ryan smirks. “Oh, we were definitely talking about that picture though.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you climb into the car with him. He tells the driver the beach that he was going to take you to and leans back in his seat, looking over at you. 

“Blake had nothing but great things to say,” he tells you. “Did you have fun? Did you like it?”

You arch a brow in his direction and nod. “I’d do it all over again.”

Ryan clears his throat, feeling his manhood stir awake as he thinks back to what Blake said about her time with you and the picture that she sent of you both in bed. He knew he liked you the minute he realized you could keep up with him. It’s also surprising at how good you can put him in his place. 

“Mm, I’d like to see that.” 

You bite your lower lip and then look up at him. “Maybe you can,” you wink teasingly. 

“No way,” he says quietly. “Really?”

A quiet silence engulfs the two of you as Ryan waits patiently for you to answer. Then, he sees you let out a quiet giggle as he reaches out to poke your side. 

“You little tease!” 

“What me and Blake do behind closed doors will only be for me and Blake’s eyes.” 

“Fine,” he says. “But at least I’ll get to have my own way with you,” Ryan whispers in your direction, seeing you lick your lower lip in anticipation.

“You’ll have to work for it,” you wink. 

“Did you give this much of a hard time for Hugh? Or is it just me?”

“Just you,” you grin. “But I do have something in mind.” 

Ryan sighs dramatically and leans against your side, looking up at you as he bats his eyelashes in your direction. “Care to share?”

“No, where’s the fun in that?” 

Ryan shakes his head and sits back up, arm draping around your shoulders. “Fine, fine. You’re worth the wait.”

Your cheeks heat up and you lean into him, shutting your eyes. You’re grateful for Blake and Ryan because they are taking your mind off Hugh and you aren’t sure where this will leave you, but you’re trying to just live in the moment. You know that you’ll be a bundle of nerves when you’re heading back to New York, anxious of the conversation that you and Hugh will have. 

“Ryan?” you ask, feeling his hand gently run along your arm. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you and Blake are okay with this?” 

Ryan hooks a finger under your chin to look up at him, his deep brown eyes staring into yours. “It’s more than okay,” he reassures you. “Even if it’s just a one time thing. We’re always gonna be here for you. No matter what.” 

You sigh contentedly and then lean back into his side. “What are we doing today?”

“Paddleboarding. Private beach. Just you and me.” 

“Oh, you’re gonna put me through a workout?” 

Ryan smirks. “Maybe afterwards.”

“If anyone’s gonna be put through a workout, Ryan, it’s gonna be you.” you wink, feeling the car stop. 

Ryan chuckles and undoes his seat belt. “Blake was right. You are naughty.” 

He climbs out of the car and walks around to your side, helping you out with a gentle hand. You climb out and stumble over your feet, falling into his chest as you look up at him, biting your lower lip as you bat your eyelashes up at him innocently. 

“Oh, don’t give me that look. We all know that you’re far from innocent,” Ryan points out, one hand resting on your waist. “Come on. Let’s at least do something that I planned.” 

You chuckle and then gently push him away, closing the car door behind you as you follow Ryan to the beach where two paddleboards are resting on the sand. The waves are calm, which should make it a bit easier. You pull off your oversized shirt and then begin reapplying sunscreen on your body, seeing Ryan’s eyes focused solely on you. He clears his throat and removes his shirt, dropping his eyes momentarily to the boards. 

“Ryan, can you get my back?” you ask, turning your back to him as you hold up your sunscreen and move your hair off to the side. 

Ryan steps up to you and takes the sunscreen, spraying it along your back as his large hands move to spread it around evenly. His front hovers dangerously close to your backside and it isn’t until you push back against him that he lets out a quiet groan. 

“We’re not gonna end up in the water if you keep doing that,” Ryan threatens playfully, moving his hands to your hips and gently giving them a squeeze. “We can always skip it and you know, move to something else.”

“Nope,” you smile, turning around to look up at him. “Let’s at least get wet.”

“You’re telling me you aren’t yet?” he winks. 

“Why don’t you check?”

Ryan bites his lower lip and reaches down between you, large hand moving into the bottom of your bikini as he drags the tip of his finger across your folders, eyes staring deeply into yours. 

“Oh,” he whispers. “Oh.” 

You lean up and run your fingertips across his chest, hands resting on his shoulders as your eyes flutter when he continues to run his finger across the length of your sex, feeling your wetness begin to pool between your legs. 

“Are you sure,” he says quietly. “You don’t want to just take this…”

“I’m sure,” you interrupt him, taking his wrist and gently pulling his hand away. You then lean up to wrap your mouth around his finger, swirling your tongue as you taste yourself. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Come on then or else I’m gonna take you on the sand.” 

“Wouldn’t be my first time on the beach,” you wink, taking your paddleboard and following him into the water.

Ryan knows that you and Hugh had sex on the beach last week. He didn’t have to even ask Hugh because his face said it all – and the marks you left along his body too. 

You and Ryan spend the next thirty minutes on the paddleboards and it calms you, even though Ryan wouldn’t stop making you laugh. It isn’t until you lose your balance that you fall into the water. When you come up and lean over your paddleboard, you see Ryan who is laughing hysterically at you. 

“Not funny!” you exclaim, moving back onto your paddleboard and lying on your back, chest heaving up and down as you shut your eyes. “I don’t have core strength like you.”

Ryan subconsciously flexes and lets his eyes rake over your frame, feeling the center of his board shorts tighten. “I mean, it was kind of funny.” 

He then jumps into the water, swimming over to you. He gently takes your paddleboard with you lying atop of it closer to him, moving one hand down your abdomen. 

“What?” you ask quietly, biting your lower lip as you look over at him. 

“Wanna head back?” Ryan asks, his voice deep and laced with desire and want. 

“Only if you say sorry,” you smirk.

“Fine,” he huffs. “I’m sorry, though, you look good all wet and–”

You then jump into the water with him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your legs snake around his waist. His hands move to link at your lower back, forehead resting against yours. 

“You never shut up, do you?” you whisper, lips brushing against his. 

“Never,” Ryan grins. Then, he leans in to press his lips against yours. He wastes no time in gripping your backside roughly, forcing your hips to move and roll against his growing erection. You gasp against his lips, which Ryan then takes advantage by sliding his tongue past your lips. When he releases his hold on your backside, you continue to roll your hips, yearning for more friction as you feel your walls begin to throb anxiously. 

“How about I make you?” you finally say, pulling away from him. 

“And how’s that? You gonna sit on my face?” 

You bite your lower lip, looking into his eyes as the silence engulfs you. You notice his eyes begin to widen when he realizes just exactly what you had planned and without waiting for you to respond, he begins swimming back to shore with you trailing behind. Once the water reaches your shins, Ryan takes your hand and pulls you fully out of the water with him. 

“Come on,” he says over his shoulder. Ryan takes you to a shaded area covered by trees and then lies back on the sand, not bothered by the fact that your bodies were still completely wet from the ocean. He takes you down with him, motioning for you to hover over his lips. 

“Ryan, wait,” you whisper, hands moving down to rest on the sand above his head. “I was just– We’re at the beach.”

“Thought you already had sex on the beach,” Ryan says, gazing up at you. “And I thought you wanted to shut me up. This is the only way how.” 

Your eyes narrow and then kneel at either side of him, your core hovering inches above his lips. You then undo the knots at your bikini and take it off from your body, letting it rest on the side as you feel Ryan’s hot breath against your core. He reaches up to run his thumb across the length of your sex before resting on your clit, applying firm pressure as he slowly moves the pad of his thumb in circles. 

You bite your lower lip, letting out a quiet moan. He doesn’t waste any time before he moves his lips to your core, licking a stripe along the length of your sex. You tremble against him, hands curling into fists in the sand as you slowly roll your hips against his mouth, feeling his tongue where you need him the most. 

“Mmm, goddamn,” he mumbles against you, arms hooking underneath your legs as his hands move to rest on your hips. He holds you still against him as he begins sucking at your clit, darting his tongue out to flick against your bundle of nerves. He can feel you shake against him and Ryan holds you firmly against him. He knows you want to move away, knows that the sensations are becoming too much. He then moves his hand between your legs, sliding one finger past your folds as he slowly pumps it in and out of you, tongue moving in circles around your clit. 

“Oh god,” you moan aloud, head tilting back as you bring a hand up to his hair, gripping it in a tight hold. Sand gets into his hair, but you can’t help yourself. Ryan knew just exactly what he was doing, his tongue and finger moving in time with each other. 

Then, he slides in another finger, the sounds of your wetness and his lapping it up with his mouth sounds almost filthy, paired with the backdrop of the waves clashing with each other. Your body begins to quiver, knowing that you’re about to reach your high because your walls slowly begin to tighten. 

Ryan doesn’t let up. He only pulls away to catch his breath before his mouth is back on your core. Fingers move at a faster pace, tongue firmly pressed against your clit as he moves his head in circles. 

“Ry– Ryan!” you moan aloud, pressing firmly onto him as your walls clench around his fingers, wetness pooling between your legs and down his chest. 

Ryan laps at your juices like a starved man, licking you clean as he pulls his fingers out of you. He sits up and pulls you down onto his lap, watching as your chest heaves up and down as you try to catch your breath. You look down at him, his chin glistening with your slickness and a smirk lining his lips. 

“You taste fucking good, you know that?” he grins, licking his lips as his manhood presses firmly against the fabric of his shorts. “But if I’m gonna fuck you, I want to do it on a bed.” 

That sends shivers down your back as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, nodding in agreement. “Take me back to the hotel then, Ryan.”

“Only if you admit how good that was,” he smirks proudly.

“Oh, it was amazing,” you reply. “Not only because you shut up, but because you definitely know what you’re doing.”

“And we still have the rest of the night,” he winks. 

—

It’s the last day in Hawaii and you’re packed and ready to go. The rest of the trip was a dream. You were truly spent after an eventful two weeks. You don’t remember having so much sex before Hugh, before Blake, and before Ryan. You crave more of it though. Crave more of it with each of them individually. 

And even when you’re in the plan with Blake and Ryan, they don’t make things awkward. It’s like nothing has changed except for the lingering stares, the soft touches. Their kids are fast asleep and you’re sitting across from them, eyes darted out the window. 

It isn’t until Ryan speaks first that you turn your attention to them both.

“So,” he says, leaning forward. “Blake and I want to just tell you how amazing this trip has been. This last week, especially.”

Blake nods in agreement, flashing you a smile. “And we also want to tell you that we’re always going to be here,” she adds. “In whatever way you need or want.” 

“And it won’t mess with our friendship? Your marriage?” you ask hesitantly, biting your lower lip. 

Blake and Ryan shake their heads simultaneously. “If anything, I think it’ll just make us stronger,” Ryan points out.

Blake agrees. “You just bring something… Animalistic out of us.”

You smile shyly, biting your lower lip. “These last two weeks have been a dream,” you admit. “I don’t know how I’m going to go back to work and the real world after that.” 

“Well, our door is always open,” Ryan winks. 

“But I bet you’re ready to see Hugh,” Blake comments. 

“I’m nervous, but yeah. I’m ready to see him.” You reply, reaching out to rest your hands on each of theirs. Ryan and Blake had not only given you peace of mind, but memories that you would cherish forever. “I love you guys.” 

Ryan smiles and pecks your lips. Blake does the same, lingering as she pulls away. 

“We love you too.” 

—

Back in New York, you’re already deep in your work. It had been a full week since coming back from your trip and while you still regularly spoke with Blake and Ryan, even going so far as to spending the night with them, you still have yet to hear from Hugh. 

—

Hugh, Ryan, and Blake are walking, hearing the sounds of cameras going off as they pay no attention to the paparazzi. They’re making their way to your coffee shop, dressed so casually and completely different from what they had been wearing while in Hawaii. 

“Wait, wait, so you two–” Hugh says, looking down at Blake and then over at Ryan. 

Blake nods. “Ryan too.”

Hugh’s eyes widen, feeling jealousy settle in the pit of his stomach as he looks over at his best friend. “You and–”

“Don’t worry,” Ryan grins. “She’s only got eyes for you, which, by the way–” he says. “Dick move leaving her in Hawaii.”

“I needed time to think, mate.” Hugh says, shrugging a shoulder. “And you should have warned me that you had invited her.”

Blake gently nudges Hugh’s shoulder, arms crossed over his chest as they continue walk down the street. “By the way, was she naughty with you too?” Blake asks, biting her lower lip. “I mean, she’s just so innocent looking and then behind closed doors, it’s just the complete opposite.”

“Oh, I know!” Ryan chuckles. “I mean, she shut me up by riding my face–”

“Okay, okay,” Hugh says, shaking his head. “She does like to be dominant in bed,” he answers. “It’s quite hot, really.” Then, he points at Ryan and grins. “She rode my face too, but it’s not a competition, so…” 

Blake looks between the two and lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. “Yeah, but I think I win. I’m not gonna tell you exactly what we did, but I will give you a number.”

“A number?” Hugh and Ryan ask, approaching your coffee shop.

Blake nods. “69.” Then, she steps inside and walks towards you, pulling you into a tight hug. Hugh and Ryan look at each other with wide eyes before they both step inside, watching as Blake’s hands run along your back and your face buried against the side of her neck.

“I just told the boys what we did,” Blake whispers, pulling away to look down at you. 

“Is that why they look like that?” you point out, looking over at Ryan and Hugh who both have slightly wide eyes and a shocked expression. 

Blake turns around and wraps an arm around your shoulders, leaning against your side as you both erupt into a fit of giggles. “Yeah,” she laughs. “That’s exactly why they look like that.” 

You shake your head with a smile and then look over at Hugh, eyes locking with his. You’re instantly aware of all the moments you shared in Hawaii, the deep conversations, the laughter, the sex… You wonder if he’s thinking the same thing and you have to let out a quiet laugh when you see Ryan gently nudge him forward. 

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Blake says, kissing your cheek. “If you need anything, babe, just let us know.” 

You nod and then walk towards Hugh, meeting him in the middle of your coffee shop. 

“Hi,” you say quietly. 

“Hey, baby.” Hugh responds. “Can we go talk?” 

You nod and lead him to your office in the back. His hand rests lightly on your lower back, following you to your office. When you step inside with him, he shuts the door and takes a seat, pulling you gently down next to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

You don’t respond. You don’t even look at him because you know that if you do, you’re going to lose your resolve and give into him. 

“I just needed time to think and I couldn’t do that with you there,” Hugh admits. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want this,” he corrects himself.

“You left me in Hawaii,” you finally say. “After an amazing week with each other, you left. Don’t you think I had things to figure out too? That maybe I also needed time to think?” 

Hugh sighs. “It was selfish of me, and I’m sorry. I just got scared because I know what will happen if I give this my all. It’s just who I am. If you’re with me, I’m making you a priority.” he bites his lower lip, gently taking your hand in his. “If you’ll have me–”

“Of course I want you, Hugh,” you interrupt him. “I’ve wanted you for months now. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know that I want to give it a chance. I want to try.” 

Hugh breaks out into a small smile and then pulls you onto his lap, lips hovering against yours. “Me too, baby.” Then, he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s a different type of kiss than what you’re used to. It’s not filled with an urgency to rip each other’s clothes off. Instead, it’s slow and soft – like it’s the first time he’s kissing you, memorizing every inch of your lips. 

You have to pull away, remembering that you’re still on the job. You look deeply into his eyes and rest your forehead against his. There’s a comfortable silence that fills the room, just gazing into each other’s eyes as an unspoken excitement engulfs the both of you. 

“So, Blake and Ryan, huh?” he says, breaking the moment with a smirk.

You blush and nod slowly, pulling away to look at him. “They were there for me.”

“Good,” Hugh says. “That photograph of you and Blake though…” he growls lowly. “I think you’ll have to tell me one day all the things you both did that night.”

“I can give you a number,” you repeat teasingly. 

Hugh smirks, standing to place you on the edge of your desk. “Maybe you and me will have to give that a try,” he says, standing between your legs. “What do you say?”

“Oh, I’d say yes please.” 

Hugh grins and then presses his lips back against your own. You know that this this only the beginning of a beautiful relationship with him.

On the other side of the door, Blake and Ryan are eavesdropping, a grin lining their lips as they lean against one another. “We did it,” he whispers. 

“We did,” Blake smiles proudly.

[darksigns-exe]

a thousand flowers could bloom - noah sebastian x f!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: swearing, dry humping, big feelings

note: by request from an anon <3 im so sorry that it's taking me FOREVER to get to these.

Finding Noah in your apartment like this isn’t unusual. Over the course of your friendship, you got used to Noah taking full advantages of the spare key you had given him. Most of the time he announces himself with a quick text, but on occasion he’ll already be there by the time you come home from work, the store or some social obligation. 

Today was one of those occasions. He’s stretched out over the length of your two-seater when you unlock the door, feet dangling over the edge of it. It’s fairly late, and he seemingly hadn’t even bothered to turn on the lights before he’d made a home for himself on your sofa. Noah is so fast asleep that he doesn’t notice you moving around the room, he only stirs when you find a place for yourself amongst his limbs. He stretches with a stifled groan, blinking up at you, still firmly held in the grasp of sleep.

“When did you get back?” he asks, voice still a little rough. 

It’s so awfully domestic. 

There’s really no denying it. What you feel for him can’t be just friendship. Moment’s like this make you feel as if you’re about one step away from your relationship becoming more than that, but at the same time you know how difficult it can be to be with someone like him. The touring and the other demands of his line work already make it difficult to be his friend. And even then, you don’t even know if he wants you like that. 

Realising that you’ve been silent for a moment too long, you shake yourself out of your silence. 

“Half an hour ago, maybe?” you reply. 

He squints at you for a moment before breaking into a smile, “I had to get out of the house for a bit, hope I didn’t interrupt any plans?”

In a way he did, but Noah doesn’t need to know about that. 

“You’re good.”

You adjust your position as he sits up, giving you a little more space. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Noah announces then. 

As if you’d expect anything else from him, the boy is somehow always hungry. 

“I’m surprised that you didn’t order anything before I got here.” you counter, “Our usual place is closed today, so you’ll have to settle for something else.” 

From the sigh he lets out, you’d think that the greatest of tragedies had just struck him. Eventually, he grumbles out a resigned fine, and you’re so sure that you can see him rolling his eyes like a petulant child. You settle on a different restaurant but realise too late that this place has an expected delivery time of almost an hour. 

You decide to put a record onto the turntable while you wait and settle on a favourite of yours. 

Dummy by Portishead. 

The soft pulsing beat of the opening track settles you into a comfortable mood. With your legs thrown over Noah’s lap, you’re more than comfortable. Your idle chatter is interrupted when Noah’s phone dings with a notification that lets you know that your delivery will be delayed by a good twenty minutes. 

The delay quickly flees your mind when his hand settles a little too high on your thigh. The touch is innocent enough, really, and maybe it’s only the music that makes it feel like more than it actually is. But you can’t deny the warm feeling that spreads throughout your body. 

The conversation steering into a more intimate direction doesn’t exactly help your situation. It’s not uncommon for the two of you to talk about your relationships, although you’ve noticed that Noah has talked less about seeing people in recent months. When he would sometimes tell you about the people he went out with, he’d been suspiciously silent on the matter recently, and you can’t help but wonder if he isn’t seeing anyone or if he’s just not telling you about it. 

“I don’t know, it just feels like everyone’s a disappointment, you know? I don’t know if my expectations are too high or if people are just shit.” you conclude your rant about the state of your love life. 

Noah eyes you for a moment, “And what do you expect?” Your breath catches in your throat when you look at him. He’s never looked at you like this before – or if he has, you’d never noticed. His eyes are blown wide, lips caught between his teeth. Somehow, you already know that whatever you’re about to tell him will change things between you. 

“I guess I just want someone to want me, if that make sense? I don’t think I’m asking for too much with that.” 

Noah clears his throat. His hand pulses on your thigh, and you’re acutely aware of how intensely he’s pinning you down with his stare. “Oh, absolutely not.” his hand wanders up your thigh so tentatively, “Maybe you’ve been looking in the wrong place.” 

Your heart thumps in your chest. 

Surely he isn’t insinuating what is spinning around in your head. 

“Do you think so?” 

You sit up, but don’t quite detach yourself from him yet. Your palms feel awfully sweaty, and you have to force yourself to take deep breaths. 

In the moments before he answers, you feel yourself spiralling through all kinds of scenarios. 

“I don’t know, maybe you should look a little closer to home.” 

His hand settles above your hip. It doesn’t feel foreign, you’ve always been a bit more tactile with each other. You know that part of what has been holding you back from falling into bed with just anyone has been the high expectation you have for your first real sexual encounter. Sure, you’ve made out with people, but it never turned into more. Something had always felt off. 

Something you don’t feel right now. 

“Noah?” you ask quietly, afraid to break this delicate moment. 

“Yes?” his reply sound just as trembling as you feel. 

You can’t find the right words then. Suddenly, everything you could say feels so out of place, so insignificant. 

Thankfully, Noah seems to sense your predicament. 

“Look at me for a moment, will you?” he says softly, drawing your attention to him, “Nothing has to happen here unless that’s what you want. I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything. We can just put a pin in this and come back to it when you’re ready for it.” 

As much as you appreciate his concern for you, right now your mind is set on a single track. You don’t know where the confidence suddenly comes from, but you’re glad that it finds you. It takes Noah a moment to catch up when your lips meet his. A second later, his hand finds the side of your face. When you part, his cheeks are tinged bright pink. 

You can’t stay away from him for long, though. Y0u scramble towards him, coming to rest atop his thigh. His arms wrap around your body, keeping you close to him. Noah pushes his thigh upward, bringing it into contact with your centre. It’s just a small touch, lessened by the fabric of your shorts, but it still sends a spike of heat up your spine. 

You feel a little out of your depth with this. In theory, you know what you’re supposed to do, but in practice it feels so daunting. And when you pull away from his lips, Noah’s face immediately twists into a concerned furrow. 

“Is everything okay? Too much?” 

His hands settle on your waist, as he fixes you with just so much worry. 

“I just don’t know – I don’t know what I’m doing.” You admit feeling a little more foolish than you’d like to admit. 

The concern fades into something softer, “Do you want me to help, love?”

You nod, unable to find your voice. 

“Alright. Okay.” you can tell that he’s sorting through his thoughts, “Tell me if something doesn’t feel good, okay?”

“I will.” 

A faint smile plays on his lips, “Good.”

With his hands still holding onto your waist, he brings his thigh back into contact with you. The rhythm he helps you find is slow enough, and you find yourself taking over fairly quickly. Noah keeps one hand on your waist, while the other moves up the side of your body, creeping up towards your ribs. His thigh shifts beneath you, drawing a hitched breath from you. 

“Is that good?” he asks softly, his gazed fixed on your face. 

You can only nod, feeling much too overwhelmed to vocalise how you feel beyond the soft sighs that have been pouring from your lips. 

Noah pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around your body once more. Your hips move against him seemingly on their own. It’s so dizzying. If you already feel like this with this many layers of clothing separating you, how good will it feel when you can actually feel his skin against yours? 

You feel Noah bury his face in the side of your neck, shifting his body, allowing you to feel how much this affects him too. He moans against your skin when you move against him a little more intentionally. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” you speak into the crook of your neck, lips barely lifting from your skin. 

Your fingers twist into his hair, trying to keep him there as best as you can. The sound he makes when you tug at it a little makes you shiver. 

“Noah.” you sigh. 

The pleasant sting of him sucking a bruise into your skin makes your head spin even more. That knot in your middle feels so tight already, even with so much separating you. 

“Lie down for me, love?” 

His face is so soft, cheeks flushed, lips spit-slicked. 

Noah helps you shift onto your back and covers your body with his as soon as you’re resting against the cushions. He hovers above you for a moment longer, gazing down at you with an impossible softness. And just as he leans down to kiss you again, the aggravating sound of your doorbell tears through the moment. 

His forehead drops to your shoulder as he lets out a heavy sigh. 

Noah presses a quick kiss to your lips before he lifts himself off you again. Your eyes fall shut for a second as you try to make sense of what just happened. 

I’ve wanted this for so long.

The words spin around your head. He wanted this – you. 

When you open your eyes and sit up, Noah is still talking to the delivery person. He returns to you a moment later, placing the bags on your coffee table. He sits next to you, wringing his hands together for a moment before he turns towards you. 

“We should talk about this.” he sounds so awfully hesitant, “I don’t want us to feel weird – I really don’t want you to feel as if I’m forcing something –” 

Instead of letting him ramble on into oblivion, you take the initiative and press a chaste kiss to his lips, effectively shutting him up. 

“Or we could eat and finish this later. You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for this.” It takes a second for your words to reach his head, but when they do, he gives you an almost wicked smile. 

“Oh, we will absolutely finish this later.”

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

@shilohrosechicken @poisongirl616 @mysticdoodlez @agravemisstake

[anniflamma]

This isn't a question, but rather a love letter to your art<3.

Thanks to you, I've started enjoying Greek mythology and the Bible again (I mean from a point of artistic, mythological, historical, and theological analysis; my status with any kind of religion is being agnostic XD).

And I already enjoyed Epic the Musical, but I really love the designs you make, how you empathize with the symbolism and lore of the Gods when designing them, and how you make Odysseus so human with his crude expressions that makes me empathize with him (And he's one of the characters I hated the most from Greek mythology lol)

And then there’s your art about the bible, I have to admit that I tend to avoid the biblical religion because of the weight it still has on our daily lives, the damage it has done from the past to this day, and how they deny it with current hypocrisy (I live in Spain, there the official religion is catholic), but your lgbt drawings have really encouraged me to open the bible and see it from an objective and neutral point of view, and just enjoy it as another book and not as something I’m forced to follow.

Also I didn’t know there was so much LGBT content in the bible XD Seriously, thank you so much, if you had a patreon, I would pay you for the amount of happiness and culture you have given me (^///^)

By the way, reading your posts I found out that you recently experienced an internet drama that has become so popular lately. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry that both you and that poor artist had to go through this, that human hypocrisy has no limits or shame, and that I agree with everything you say. Just because we like a character or an author doesn't mean we agree with their crimes or ideologies.

I hope you have a nice day<3

Hi! I’m sorry it took me a while to respond! I mean it, I’ve read this over and over, and it makes me so happy. I’ve been thinking about how to respond, but sometimes it's hard to get it out into words.

It makes me so happy that my biggest interests make others interested in it too. Heck, when people ask questions, I get all giddy!

Talking about biblical/christian saints, greek myths, history, different cultural views and changes was kind of the whole point of why I started this tumblr blog. I have so many drafts filled with random info about LGBTQ+ saints..... Now… I post mostly thirsty drawings of greek gods with hairy chests... T.T

And I sympathize a lot when it comes to religious trauma. I consider myself lucky in these matters, my mom is Catholic, and she has her views that I don’t agree with and hurtful. Yet she still supports me in her way and watching my bible retelling animatics, everytime I post a new bible animatic, she writes me: "What have you done to Daniel..."

I also have my hurts and anger towards hypocrisies too, and I guess this is my way of countering that?

LGBT content in the Bible is something that really fascinates me. I think it's important to keep in mind that people from about 2,500 years ago had very different views when it came to gender and sex compared to how we see it today. In a way, the Bible does have strict social gender expectations, and if you didn’t fit in, then you weren’t considered part of that gender. But at the same time, it acknowledges that your sex. I think it’s in the Talmud were it discusses the fact that, throughout the Bible, there were about eight genders:

Zachar: male.

Nekevah: female.

Androgynos: having both male and female characteristics.

Tumtum: lacking sexual characteristics.

Aylonit hamah: identified as female at birth but later naturally developed male characteristics.

Aylonit adam: identified as female at birth but later developed male characteristics through human intervention.

Saris hamah: identified as male at birth but later naturally developed female characteristics.

Saris adam: identified as male at birth but later developed female characteristics through human intervention.

Some scholars even believe that Abraham and Sarah were Tumtum. A Tumtum is not considered to be very distinct but rather flexible between male and female sex/gender—"sometimes he is a man, and sometimes he is a woman." The simple fact that God said Abraham had a womb and from it, he would have children. Some say that this is why he is a Tumtum, while some historical linguists argue that ancient Hebrew didn’t have the vocabulary for male genitalia yet. Both arguments are valid, and I like them both!

There’s tons of stuff I could bring up—Joseph with his princess dress, Naomi and Ruth, David and Jonathan, and the discussions around whether Daniel was a Saris Hamah or a Saris Adam. We know he was called a saris, but we’re just not sure which. And then there's Jael, whose story is filled with a lot of phallic symbolism, and even her name is very gender-neutral.

I think I’m going to end here. I could yap about these things forever! But thank you again taking your time writing to me and I hope you also have a nice day! <3

[goblinontour]

We Were Young, Darlin’

we don’t have no control, we're out of control

warnings: fetus!alex, smut, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (piv), it’s cute

word count: 10k

“It’s him!” you screamed to your friend, your voice rising above the roaring music that vibrated through the floor and rattled your chest. The band had just come on stage, the room exploding with sound as the first chords rang out.

“What?!” she yelled back, leaning in closer, her brow furrowed as she tried to make out what you were saying. The noise in the room made everything feel chaotic, but the only thing you could focus on was the figure now adjusting a guitar at the center of the stage.

“It’s Alex! It’s him!” You gripped her arm tighter, your heart hammering against your ribs as you repeated yourself, this time louder. Your words tumbled out in an excited rush, almost slurring together from the drinks you’d downed earlier. The alcohol had made you bold, clumsy, and a little too emotional. You felt your knees wobble beneath you, and your friend caught your arm just before you could stumble into someone.

“Who’s Alex?” she asked, pulling you back upright, her eyes nervously darting to the huge brooding guy beside you whose scowl seemed permanently fixed. He looked like he’d kill someone if you spilled your drink on his shoes. But you barely noticed, too busy staring at the stage.

“Never mind! It doesn’t matter!” you waved her off, shaking your head. Explaining who Alex Turner was right now wasn’t important. There was no time to explain, not when you could see him right there. Your Alex, or at least the boy you used to know, standing there, adjusting the strap of his guitar with a nervous sort of fidget. 

There he was.

He looked a little older, sure, but not so different. His hair was still dark and slightly unkempt, curling at the ends in that familiar way. His frame had filled out a bit Lean, not lanky. And there was still something unmistakably awkward about the way he stood. You could see it in the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, adjusting the strap of his guitar like he wasn’t quite sure where to place his hands. You could see the nerves in him, just like you did when you were younger. 

The spotlight hit him just as he leaned into the mic, his face momentarily illuminated in the haze of the stage lights and the cigarette smoke lingering in the venue. His eyes scanned the crowd for a second, squinting through the blinding lights. The room was packed, bodies pressing together, and yet, standing there, Alex seemed smaller, like he wasn’t quite used to the attention. 

He strummed a few tentative chords before leaning into the mic, his voice barely audible over the buzzing feedback. He cleared his throat, his voice coming out a little shaky, a little unsure. “Uh...thanks for coming out.” he mumbled, glancing over his shoulder at his bandmates as if looking for reassurance. They were already settling into position, ready to tear into their next song, but Alex paused, turning back to the crowd. “We’ve got a few more for you.” he added awkwardly, brushing his hand through his hair before gripping the mic stand, almost as though he needed something to hold onto.

It wasn’t the most confident stage presence, not the kind of charisma you’d expect from someone about to command a room. But it was him, every hesitant, awkward bit of him. That boy, the one who mumbled through his sentences and avoided eye contact when he was nervous. It was the same Alex you’d spent countless afternoons with, hanging out in your parents’ basements, talking about dreams that seemed so far off at the time.

A burst of emotion surged through you, and before you could stop yourself, you cheered. Louder than anyone around you. You felt your voice crack with excitement, probably too enthusiastic for his shy attempt at banter, but you didn’t care. Your heart swelled with a mix of nostalgia and pride. Seeing him up there, doing what you always knew he’d be good at, was surreal.

Alex shifted again, clearly startled by the noise. He looked up, eyes sweeping across the audience, searching for the source of the sound. And then, for just a second, his gaze landed on you.

Your breath hitched as his eyes locked with yours. Time seemed to stop, the music around you fading into a dull hum. Alex squinted, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched into the faintest smile.

It was small, almost imperceptible, but you saw it. You weren’t sure if he recognized you, if that smile was meant for you or just a reflex in response to the crowd’s energy, but you held onto it like it was the most important thing in the world. For a moment, the years that had passed between you didn’t matter. 

Was it really for you? You didn’t know, but you let yourself believe it was.

He turned away, refocusing on his guitar as the band launched into their next song. The room vibrated with the rumble of bass and drums, but you barely registered the music. All you could think about was that split second, that smile, and what it might mean. 

Your friend nudged you, noticing the sudden shift in your expression. “Are you okay?” she asked, raising her voice over the music, her concern evident.

“Yeah.” you murmured, still staring at the stage, your mind a whirlwind of memories and emotions. “I’m good.” You didn’t elaborate. How could you? How could you explain that the boy who used to be your best friend, the one you hadn’t spoken to in years, had just smiled at you from the stage like no time had passed at all?

As the song continued, your eyes stayed glued to Alex. Every now and then, he’d glance up from his guitar, scanning the crowd with that same nervous energy. You wondered if he’d look your way again.

You lost yourself in the music, every beat, every chord resonating through your bones, carrying you somewhere far from where you stood. The crowd surged and swayed around you, but your focus stayed locked on the stage, on him. Watching him there brought back so many memories, ones you didn’t even realise you still carried. The songs blended into each other, one after another, and it felt like no time had passed at all.

Before you knew it, the set was over. The last notes of their final song hung in the air for a moment, lingering like a ghost, and you blinked, almost confused by how quickly it had ended. The house lights came up, harsh and bright, pulling you back into reality. You weren’t even close to being done with it, but the show was over. 

Your friend had disappeared sometime during the last song, but you didn’t notice until you spotted her across the room. She was tucked into a corner with some good-enough-looking guy, his arm already around her waist as they laughed together. She shot you a quick thumbs up when she saw you looking, mouthing something you couldn’t make out before turning her attention back to him. It didn’t matter anyway. You could tell she’d found her own fun for the night.

You glanced back at the stage, your eyes scanning the space where Alex had stood just moments ago, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him. But he was gone. The whole band was gone, really, but your eyes weren’t searching for anyone else. A weird sort of emptiness tugged at your chest, a longing that felt so familiar it almost hurt. You’d lost him once, and now, after only just finding him again, he was gone before you even had a chance to say anything. 

The crowd started to thin, people streaming toward the exits, and the once-hot, sweaty venue suddenly felt too empty. You made your way toward the door, digging into your pocket for your pack of cigarettes. The air outside hit you like a slap, cold and biting, the late-night chill burning against your skin. You shivered, realising too late you should have brought a jacket, but inside had been too warm, and all the jumping around left you flushed and breathless. 

With a cigarette between your lips, you cupped your hands around the flame of your lighter, taking in a deep drag, hoping the smoke might do something to warm you from the inside out. It didn’t, but it gave you something to focus on. The night had that strange kind of stillness to it, the city lights blurred by the cold mist in the air.

“Hey.” a voice called from your left, low and familiar.

You froze for a moment, the cigarette dangling from your fingers as you turned toward the sound. There, just outside the door, leaning against the wall in the shadow of the venue’s awning, was Alex. It was him. You were sure of it now, more sure than you’d been earlier when you thought you saw that fleeting smile from the stage. 

He was still sweaty from the show, his hair all messy and sticking up in odd directions. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he seemed even smaller now, the stage presence stripped away, leaving behind just him.

You smiled, a slow, soft grin spreading across your face, and he took a step closer, squinting at you in the dim light. “Am I seeing things right?” he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice, like he wasn’t quite ready to believe it was you.

“What do you mean?” you teased, taking another drag and tilting your head, playing with him just a little, the way you used to.

“Oh, sorry, I thought I-” He paused, his words stumbling over each other. “I thought you were…I mean, you looked like…”

“I am, you coconut head.” you laughed, shaking your head at him. Without thinking, you reached up with your free hand and ruffled his already chaotic hair, feeling the dampness of it from sweat and stage lights. “Come here.”

For a second, he just stood there, blinking in surprise before his face broke into a sheepish grin, one you remembered all too well. He leaned in, closing the space between you, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in like he’d done a hundred times before, back when you were kids and everything was simple. His body was warm against yours, and despite the chill in the air, the closeness of him, this version of Alex that was still somehow the same one you once knew, made the cold fade into the background.

You let yourself lean into him, his arm anchoring you, grounding you in a moment that felt strangely like coming home. You could feel the slight shake in his hands, the nervous energy that never quite left him, even now. It made you smile. Some things didn’t change.

“I can’t believe it’s you.” he murmured into your hair, his voice soft, like he wasn’t sure if saying it too loudly might break the spell. 

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, it was like no time had passed at all. The years of distance, of going to different schools, of losing touch, it all felt like it melted away. Here he was, standing with you in the cold, like you’d never left each other’s side.

“Well, believe it, Turner.” you said, smirking. “I’m real, and I’m freezing, so you’d better keep me warm.” 

He chuckled, pulling you in tighter, the both of you laughing into the quiet night, the city sounds muted in the distance. And just like that, it was as if you’d never been apart at all.

Alex pulled back reluctantly, his arm slipping from your shoulders like he wasn’t quite ready to let go, but knew he had to. He looked at you for a moment, his big eyes searching your face as if trying to memorise every detail, and then he smiled, soft, warm, and familiar, before diving back in for one last hug. This time, it was tighter, just a few more seconds, like he was trying to savour the moment before the real world crept back in. You could feel the faint tremble in his hands, the nervous energy still coursing through him from the show.

When he finally pulled back again, it was with a quiet sigh, like he wished he didn’t have to. He stood there, crossing his arms over his chest as the cold air bit at his skin even through his jacket, his shoulders hunching up a little against the chill. He shivered, his breath visible in the freezing air, and you couldn’t help but smile at how much he was still the same. 

“What are you doing ‘ere?” he asked, his voice gentle as if he couldn’t quite believe you were really standing in front of him. His eyes flicked back to the door for a second, maybe checking if anyone was watching, before they returned to you, full of curiosity.

“I came to see the show.” you replied, wrapping your arms around yourself in a weak attempt to keep warm. The cold seemed to seep into your bones now, and you stamped your feet a little, trying to shake it off. Alex noticed, shuffling a little closer to you as though he could somehow help block the wind.

“You came to see my band?” He tilted his head, his voice laced with playful disbelief. His lips pulled into a crooked grin, like he was trying to hold back a laugh.

“I didn’t know it was your band!” you admitted, your breath hitching slightly in the cold air as you flicked the butt of your cigarette away. You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, trying to stop your teeth from chattering. Alex’s grin grew wider, and he giggled in that soft, quiet way you remembered, the one that was almost more like a shy exhale than an actual laugh.

“Seriously?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eye as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He stood a little taller, his shoulders less hunched, but still guarded, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself in the moment. He glanced down at his shoes for a second, the cold making his movements more fidgety.

“Seriously!” you insisted, laughing. “I didn’t even know you were in a band!”

He let out another small giggle, shaking his head as if the thought was unbelievable. “So you haven’t been keeping tabs on me, eh?” he asked, a half-smirk forming on his lips as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his voice teasing but not unkind. 

“Have you been keeping tabs on me?” you shot back, a grin tugging at your lips as you watched him shift awkwardly on his feet, his arms now folded even tighter across his chest. He looked almost bashful for a second, biting the inside of his cheek like he was caught off guard by your question.

“Of course I have.” he replied, his voice soft but sincere, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. His smile faded for a moment, replaced by something more thoughtful, more real. “How could I not?”

There was a vulnerability in the way he said it, his usual defenses slipping. He shifted again, glancing down at the ground before his eyes met yours again. The wind whipped through the alley, ruffling his already messy hair, but neither of you moved. The cold seemed to fade as you stood there, locked in that moment together.

You could see the boy you once knew so clearly in front of you. But there was something different, too. He’d grown up. He was still Alex, but there was a new confidence hidden underneath it all, buried somewhere beneath the lingering awkwardness.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.” you admitted quietly, your voice almost lost in the wind. The words slipped out before you had a chance to stop them, but you didn’t regret it. It was the truth. After all the time that had passed, after all the moments you thought about reaching out and never did, standing here now felt surreal.

Alex looked at you, his eyes softening. “Yeah, me neither.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He kicked at the gravel beneath his feet, the sound small against the night air. “But I always hoped I would, you know?”

You smiled at him, feeling the warmth of his words settle in your chest. “So, a band, huh? You made it then.” you asked, trying to lighten the mood a little, your grin returning as you gestured toward the venue.

He laughed again, this time a little louder, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Yeah, I guess we’re alright.” he said, that self-deprecating humour you knew so well creeping into his voice. He looked away for a second, his cheeks flushing slightly from either the cold or the compliment, you couldn’t tell. You hoped it was the latter. “I didn’t think we’d get this far.”

“Well,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow, “it sounds like you’re doing more than alright.”

Alex’s grin widened, and he looked down again, this time with a smile on his face. “Thanks.” he mumbled, his voice soft as he shifted closer, his arm brushing against yours.

And just like that, it felt like no time had passed at all. The cold air still bit at your skin, but standing there with Alex, everything else seemed to melt away. It was all still there, but somehow, it didn’t matter. Not in this moment.

He gave you that familiar, lopsided grin again, the one that always seemed to make his eyes soften just a little. “You haven’t changed a bit.” he said, his voice warm with nostalgia as his gaze flickered between your face and the ground.

You laughed, “Oh, I’ve changed.” you said, smirking as you pushed your chest up a little through your low-cut top, giving him a teasing look. “I’ve got boobs now.”

His eyes widened, the soft laugh he’d been holding back escaping as he immediately looked away, biting down on his lip like he wasn’t sure where to look next. His cheeks flushed red, and for a split second, it seemed like he didn't know how to handle a joke like this.

But despite his nervousness, he couldn’t help himself. There was really no other option. Your chest was right there, the neckline of your tank leaving very little to the imagination, and the way you were pushing them up made it impossible for him not to look. You could practically see him wrestle with whether it was “appropriate” but after a moment, his gaze flicked back down.

“I’ve noticed.” he said, a bit sheepishly, his voice low and rough around the edges. His eyes darted back to yours, then dipped to your chest for just a second before he quickly looked back up again, that sheepish grin still lingering on his lips. “They’re, uh...quite nice.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he was getting, especially with the remnants of that post-show euphoria still buzzing in him. He was clearly feeling the rush, but he was also just a boy, not quite used to this sort of attention. And especially not from you.

“Well, thank you, mister Turner.” you replied, laying on a fake posh accent that you knew would make him laugh. You tilted your head, giving him a mock-serious expression as if you were accepting a grand compliment from royalty.

Alex burst out laughing, his cheeks still flushed as he wiped a hand over his face, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous.” he muttered. 

He glanced down at your chest once more, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. His gaze lingered for just a second too long before he caught himself and looked back at you, giving you a look that said he knew he’d been caught. He shrugged, still laughing softly, his breath visible in the cool air.

“Some things have changed, I guess.” he added, his voice quieter now. “You’re even prettier now.” he said, the words slipping out like they had been waiting there, just beneath the surface. His voice was sincere, and for the first time since you’d bumped into him, you were the one who felt caught off guard.

Heat crept up your neck, and you couldn’t help the small blush that warmed your cheeks. You’d expected him to stay in that playful zone, but here he was, saying something real, something sweet. 

“Oh, shut up.” you muttered, though the smile pulling at your lips betrayed you. You ducked your head for a second, tucking your hair behind your ear, feeling a little too seen. When you looked back at him, he was grinning again, clearly amused by the fact that he’d managed to make you blush.

“I’m serious.” he said softly, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than usual before he dropped his gaze, fidgeting with the cuff of his jacket.

You swallowed, and, eager to break the tension, you asked, “So, are you going anywhere after this? You know, big rockstar plans or whatever?” You didn’t know where this night was heading, but you didn’t want it to end just yet.

Alex shrugged, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “Nah, nah, not really. Just kinda...hanging out for now.” he replied, his voice casual, though there was a trace of hopefulness in the way he said it. “What about you?”

You shook your head, laughing as you gestured vaguely toward the venue behind you. “I’m just passing time. My friend’s probably hooking up with some rando in the toilets by now.” you said, rolling your eyes.

Alex let out a sharp laugh, his head tilting back as his shoulders shook with the effort of holding in his amusement. “Lucky her.” he said, still chuckling as he leaned against the wall, his body a little more relaxed now that the tension had broken.

“Nah.” you replied with a grin, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m better off than her, I’m sure.”

At your words, something flickered in Alex’s expression, a shift in the way he looked at you. His laughter faded into a quiet smile as he glanced at you, and for a split second, you could feel the meaning of what you’d just implied hanging in the air between you. He knew what you meant, knew exactly what you were suggesting, but he didn’t say anything. He just looked at you for a moment longer than usual, his eyes studying you carefully, like he was thinking something but didn’t want to lay it out so clearly.

Instead, he just smiled, a small, knowing grin, and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah...maybe.” he said quietly, his voice trailing off as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. He leaned in a little closer, his arm brushing against yours again. 

Neither of you said what you were really thinking, but it lingered there, just beneath the surface. The night seemed quieter all of a sudden, the distant sounds of the city fading into the background as the two of you stood there, close, but not quite close enough.

You leaned into him for just a moment, feeling the heat of his body radiating through the thin fabric of your top. The night had gotten colder, and the light shiver that ran through you didn’t go unnoticed. Alex glanced down, his lips curling into that half-smile he seemed to always have when he was about to say something cheeky, as you’d quickly come to learn. 

“You’re too scantily clad for a night like this.” he said. 

Before you could respond, he shifted off the wall, pulling his hands from his pockets as he shrugged off his jacket. You rolled your eyes, knowing what was coming. “You’re so predictable.” you said, shaking your head with a soft laugh.

He gave you a mock-serious look. “Hey look, I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman over ‘ere.” he said, his accent thickening as he exaggerated the words. He stepped closer, draping the jacket over your shoulders and wrapping his arms around you briefly in the process. It was still warm from his body, the scent of him, faintly smoky, a hint of sweat, and that something unique to him you noticed earlier, clinging to the fabric. His shirt underneath was still damp from sweat in places from the performance earlier, despite the cold air.

As he settled the jacket around you, his hand brushed against your waist, the touch light but enough to make both of you tense for just a second. The spark of contact felt like a jolt, neither of you quite ready for it but neither pulling away either. His eyes flicked to yours for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze, before he broke it, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket.

He fished out a pack of cigarettes, pulling one loose and perching it between his lips. “Naughty boy.” you muttered, watching the cigarette bob as he grinned around it.

“Give us a light?” he asked, his words slurred through the filter, eyes focused on you with that smirk playing on his lips.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Don’t you have one? Who smokes but doesn’t have a lighter?”

Alex chuckled, his free hand moving to brace himself against the wall, right next to your head. He leaned in just a little, his eyes twinkling as he spoke. “I do have me own, but I just wanted you to do it for me.”

The warmth of his body was so close now, the scent of him even stronger. You could practically feel his breath mixing with yours. You bit your lip, not missing the way his eyes briefly flickered down as you reached into your top, pulling out your lighter from where you’d stashed it in your bra. 

“Convenient.” he murmured, though he didn’t comment on the fact that, from this angle, with how close he was, he could practically see everything. But you knew he noticed. His smirk faltered for just a second before he quickly recovered.

With the lighter in hand, you leaned forward, flicking it on and holding the flame to the tip of his cigarette. His face was close enough that you could see the faint stubble on his jaw he couldn’t shave quite right and the redness left behind on his spotty face. His cheeks hollowed as he took a long inhale, the cigarette’s end glowing brighter with each pull. 

The moment felt almost surreal. Him leaning against the wall with his arm above your head, his jacket warming your shoulders, and that small, playful distance between you suddenly feeling razor-thin. When he pulled back, exhaling a long stream of smoke, his gaze lingered on you for just a beat longer than it should have. “Cheers.” he said quietly, his voice softer now, the smirk replaced with something more genuine.

You felt the tension building in the air between you, the way his body leaned just a little closer to yours, the faint scent of smoke mixing with the cool breeze and his jacket still wrapped snugly around your shoulders. The moment stretched, a pause neither of you seemed eager to break, but you couldn’t help the words that slipped from your lips.

“I really want you to kiss me.” you said, your voice steady but quiet, as if the sentence was waiting there all night, just waiting for you to give it life.

Alex blinked, his lips parting slightly as he processed what you’d just said. “Are you alright?” he asked, his tone cautious, almost like he couldn’t quite let himself believe it. He shifted, straightening up a bit but still hovering close, searching your face as if he needed reassurance that he’d heard you correctly.

You smiled, feeling a buzz from the drinks you’d had earlier and the way his presence made your heart pound. “I’m a bit buzzed.” you admitted. 

He chuckled. “I can tell.” he said, his eyes scanning your face again, softer now, like he was checking for something in your expression.

You felt the rush of the moment push you forward, your confidence boosted by the alcohol and the closeness. “I’ll kiss you, then.” you said. 

His breath hitched, and he raised an eyebrow, that playful smirk making its way back to his lips. “Okay, then.” he replied, almost challenging, though his voice wavered just enough to show he wasn’t as sure of himself as he was trying to be.

“Yeah?” you asked, eyes locking with his, waiting for just a hint of hesitation. But instead, he nodded, his grin faltering slightly. 

“Go ahead.” he murmured. 

You didn’t wait any longer. Leaning in, your heart racing, you closed the gap between you two, your lips pressing against his. His lips were warm and soft, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fall away. 

Alex responded slowly at first, his hand still braced against the wall, but after a beat, you felt him relax, his lips moving with yours as the kiss deepened. The tension that had been simmering between you two finally melted. His free hand hovered near your waist like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you, but the warmth radiating from him was enough.

He pulled back, his lips still brushing against yours as he licked them slowly, like he was tasting the moment. He stayed close. 

“You’re cute.” you said, voice low and steady, though you couldn’t hide the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice rough, but playful, still riding the high of that kiss.

“Yeah.” you replied with a grin, your hands slipping up to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his messy hair. “Forgot to tell you earlier.”

Your fingers toyed with the strands there, tugging gently, and you felt him lean into it, his body inching closer, the space between you shrinking as your hands slowly guided him back in. His lips met yours again, harder this time, with less hesitation. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, almost impatient, begging for entrance. You let him in, and the moment his tongue touched yours, everything seemed to ignite.

He tasted good. Minty from the menthol cigarette still lingering on his breath. The kiss was deeper, messier, and you could feel his heartbeat against your chest, his body pressed against yours as the tension that had been building finally snapped.

Fuck, he wasn’t just cute. He was hot. And he could kiss. Really kiss.

You pulled back suddenly, breathless, and his lips were swollen, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he tried to catch his breath. 

“You wanna shag in the toilets?” you asked, a grin tugging at your lips as you glanced over your shoulder, back toward the dingy venue.

He chuckled, the sound deep in his throat. “Like your friend?” he asked, still catching his breath, but the humour was there in his eyes.

“Yeah.” you teased, biting your lip, the taste of him still lingering.

He shook his head with a small laugh, leaning back against the wall. “Nah.” he said, definite.

“Why not?” you asked, pouting slightly but still amused by his answer.

“It reeks in there.” he replied, wrinkling his nose in mock disgust, though the smile never left his face.

You tilted your head, biting back a laugh as you pressed him further. “But you’d shag me?”

He didn’t respond right away, just smiled that slow, crooked smile that made your stomach flip. Without a word, he leaned back in, his lips finding yours again, this time with even more urgency. His hands found your waist, pulling you close as he kissed you like he was trying to make up for some lost time. It was rough and hungry, until his lips were swollen and red, and you could feel the slick of spit on his chin, though he didn’t bother wiping it away.

It didn’t matter. Nothing did right now except the way his body felt against yours, the warmth of his breath, and the wild pounding of your heart in your chest.

Alex shifted slightly on his feet, and you noticed the way his body seemed to sway, just the tiniest bit, like he was caught somewhere between the buzz of the moment and the cool night pressing down around you both. You could still taste the minty sharpness of his cigarette on your lips, mingling with the smoky air, and for a second, you just stood there, watching him, as if you were both waiting for something.

“So, do you still live at home?” you asked, trying to break the silence that hung between you. The question came out a little soft, a little unsure, like it was trying to find its place in the moment.

He looked, a half-smile playing on his lips. “High Green? Nah.” he said, shaking his head as if the thought amused him. His voice still had that easy, laid-back tone, but there was a hint of nostalgia in the way he said it, like memories were still lingering there, even if he’d left them behind. “Renting a flat here in the city now.”

You nodded, biting your lip, watching the way his face shifted when he talked about it. “You live alone?” you asked, your curiosity pushing you to keep the conversation going. There was so much you didn’t know now.

“Nah.” he said again, the word slipping out easily, like it was his go-to response. “With one of the lads from the band.”

His posture relaxed a little, leaning his weight back against the wall again. The easy smile never left his face, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, more focused now, like he was giving you more than just surface-level answers. 

You found yourself smiling back, the tension between you both still crackling, but softer now, more controlled. “Is he going back there now?” you asked, leaning in just a little as you spoke, your hand still brushing against the back of his neck, feeling his warmth.

“Nah.” he replied, intentionally repeating himself now, now that he’d noticed the way you smiled every time he said it. “He’s probably going to his girlfriend’s place after this.”

“Is he now?” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you gave him a playful nudge. Your eyes caught the slight flush of colour creeping up his neck, though he still looked entirely at ease. He was enjoying every second of your back-and-forth.

“Yeah, he’s been spending more time there lately.” he continued. He paused, as if he was thinking over his next words carefully. “The flat’s not too far from here though.”

The suggestion of it was subtle, but it was there, clear as day.

“Convenient.” you said. The implication of the word wasn’t lost on either of you. Alex’s grin widened just a bit, and he shifted again, his eyes flicking down to the ground for a moment before they met yours once more.

He gave a small laugh, almost nervous, like he was suddenly aware of how close you both were standing, like he could feel the weight of your gaze just as much as you could feel his. “Yeah.” he said, “S’pose it is.”

Before you even had time to fully process how it happened, you were both in the back of a taxi, with you half-draped over Alex’s lap, your bodies magnetically drawn to each other. His arms hesitated to fully hold you, like he wasn’t sure where to place his hands, but his mouth was far less shy. His lips moved with yours, soft but insistent, while his tongue teased its way into your mouth. 

By the time you stepped into his flat, you were both a little out of breath. You didn’t even remember paying the taxi driver. Alex’s jacket had been discarded somewhere near the door, and you were too wrapped up in each other to care where anything landed. His hands still hovered, like they weren’t sure what to do or where to go, but his mouth stayed busy with yours. 

His uncertainty made you bold, and you guided his hands to your hips, then lower, placing them firmly on your arse.

“Go on, Turner,” you whispered against his lips, “don’t be shy.”

That seemed to do the trick. His grip tightened, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your jeans, and the next thing you knew, your hand had found its way to the front of his jeans, cupping him over the denim. You felt him twitch under your palm, his breath catching in his throat, and for a second, you thought he might lose it right there.

“Mhm…” he murmured, his voice a low, throaty sound that vibrated through you. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face flushed. 

You grinned, your lips brushing against his ear. “You wanna see my boobs?” you teased, your voice soft but suggestive. “So you can see if they’re really nice or not?”

“Like I’m the boob connoisseur?” he asked and you nodded. His eyes flicked down for a split second before he caught himself, smirking slightly as he shot back, “Give the final verdict?”

“Yeah.” you said, already pulling your top over your head. 

“Fuck yeah.” His hands lingered at your waist, still a little hesitant, but you could see the hunger in his eyes as they followed every movement. Your bra was next, unclasped and tossed aside with the same casual disregard as everything else.

He grinned, his lip curling up slightly, that cheeky side of him coming out again. “And then I’ll rank your junk.” you added, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Alex chuckled, his hands finally gaining more confidence as they skimmed over your bare skin, lingering at the curve of your waist. “My dick’s quite decent, I’d say.” he replied, slipping out of his shirt and closing the space between you. His bare chest pressed against yours, warm and firm, as he backed you toward the bedroom.

You raised an eyebrow, challenging him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Alright then.” he murmured, his voice low and thick with lust. Without warning, he pushed you gently back onto the bed, his hands guiding you down onto the mattress.

His eyes roamed over your body as he stood at the foot of the bed, his chest rising and falling a little quicker now, his breathing shallow. He took his time, watching as you sprawled out beneath him, his lips parted slightly, his hands running through his already-messy hair as if he were trying to wrap his head around the fact that this was actually happening.

You felt your nipples hardening as you watched him take you in. He was standing there, looking tall despite the reality of it, but with a quiet intensity that made your stomach twist in the best way. His jeans hung low on his hips, and the bulge at the front of them was impossible to ignore. He looked almost nervous, but his eyes were full of want, his body language betraying the cocky front he was trying to keep up.

“C’mon then.” you coaxed, “get on with it.”

Alex’s mouth quirked up into a grin as he leaned down, his hands sliding over your thighs, spreading them apart as he moved between them. His touch was still a little tentative, but the longer it went on, the bolder he got. You could see the shift in him, giving way to something more confident. 

He leaned down, pressing his lips to your collarbone, trailing slow, wet kisses across your skin as his hands continued to explore, one sliding under the curve of your ass, the other gripping your waist firmly. 

“You really have changed.” he muttered between kisses. “You’re even more trouble.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tilted your head back, giving him better access to your neck. “And you like it.” you whispered, your breath hitching as his lips found a sensitive spot just below your ear.

He pulled back for a moment, his eyes dark and hooded as he looked down at you. “Yeah.” he admitted, his voice soft but intense. “That I do.”

And then he was on you again, his lips crashing against yours, harder this time, more desperate. His hands were everywhere, sliding up your thighs, gripping your hips, tugging at the waistband of your jeans. You could feel the urgency in him, the pent-up desire that had been simmering between you both finally breaking free.

Your fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans, pulling it loose before sliding the zipper down. You could feel him straining against the fabric. 

“Let’s see if that junk lives up to your bragging.” you teased, your voice breathless as you tugged his jeans down over his hips.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement as he helped you slide them off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. He leaned over you again, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Guess you’ll just have to suck it and see.”

You blinked at his cheeky grin, your lips parting in surprise at the audacity of his words. “Did you really just say that?” you asked. 

Alex chuckled, his breath fanning over your cheek as he tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Yeah.” he replied, leaning in closer. “I did.”

You bit your bottom lip, stifling a laugh that bubbled up from the back of your throat. “You’re such an idiot.” you muttered, but the heat between you didn’t fade, if anything, it grew. You could feel his body against yours, the weight of him, the scent of sweat and desire lingering in the air.

Without another word, he gripped the loops of your jeans and yanked you down the bed, making you gasp as you slid to the edge. You could barely get a word in before he was slipping them off, his fingers brushing the curve of your hips and thighs as the denim peeled away. 

“I can’t be the only one with less on.” he said, his voice low and teasing as he tossed your jeans aside, his hands lingering on your bare legs, fingers tracing the edge of your underwear.

“Fair’s fair.” you shot back with a smirk, though your heart was pounding in your chest now. 

You moved before he could take charge again, sinking to your knees on the floor in front of him, looking up at him through your lashes. He was about to reach for you when you gently pushed him back, guiding him to sit on the bed. 

You could feel the heat coming off him, radiating through the tainted material of his boxers as your hand brushed over him. He was hard, so hard. Your fingers trailed over the fabric, feeling him twitch beneath your touch. “You’re quite eager.”

“You’re quite hot.” he shot back. 

You grinned, enjoying the control you had for the moment. Your fingers hooked under the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down. His breath hitched as you revealed more of him, the fabric slipping away. When you finally had them off, he kicked them aside with impatience, pushing them down the rest of the way himself.

Your eyes widened, unable to stop yourself from letting out a low, “Wow.”

Alex smirked again, his confidence bolstered by your reaction. “Does it live up to your expectations?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his voice still that teasing blend of cockiness and curiosity.

You looked back up at him, biting your lip, pretending to consider your answer for a moment. “For now.” you said, flashing him a grin.

He chuckled, his hand reaching down to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek for just a moment. He didn’t need to say anything. The way he shifted slightly and the heat in his eyes spoke louder than words ever could. He was watching you with this raw, unguarded hunger, almost like he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask for what he wanted. You felt his fingers tighten in your hair just a little, urging you, guiding you down without saying a word.

You leaned in, letting your lips brush the head of his cock first. The taste hit you almost immediately. A salty, sweet mix that spread over your tongue, exactly what you should’ve expected from him. Everything about him was intoxicating, addictive in a way that had you leaning further in, wanting more. You slowly wrapped your lips around the tip, teasing him with your tongue, feeling the soft skin give under your touch.

The groan that escaped his lips was low and deep. He was struggling, you could tell, fighting to keep his eyes open, wanting to watch you, but the sensation seemed to overwhelm him. “Fuck.” he murmured, his voice hoarse. 

Your hand reached out instinctively, and before you even had to ask, he spit into your palm, his breath hitching as he did so. The moment his spit hit your skin, you felt a surge of arousal run through you, making you slick in places far from your hand. It was like you were feeding off each other.

You spread the wetness over his cock, your hand stroking him with slow motions. His body tensed under your touch, his hips lifting just slightly off the bed, like he was chasing the feeling. Your other hand gripped the base as your lips sucked on the tip. 

The noises he was making now were more than just groans. He was practically panting, his breath ragged, his fingers tightening in your hair, but still not forcing, not rushing you. His control was hanging by a thread, and you could feel it in the way his muscles twitched, the way his body seemed to move in sync with yours. 

You smiled around him, hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper, your hand still working the length of him in time with the slow bob of your head. 

Alex’s head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut as his lips parted. His chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths, each one escaping him in soft gasps. His groans grew quieter, more controlled, but then, a sudden whimper.

Before he could lose it completely, his hand shot down to the base of his cock, squeezing hard. He pulled you off him as he tried to get control of himself. 

“Fuck.” he whispered, his hand still gripping himself tightly.

You sat back on your knees, lips tingling and wet, watching him try to regain control. “Need a second, yeah?” you asked. 

“Yeah…” he nodded, eyes still half-closed as he exhaled. “You’re killing me.”

A grin tugged at the corners of your lips as you climbed up over him, straddling his hips. “You’re the one who stopped me.” you teased, your voice playful, leaning down to kiss his neck, trailing soft kisses up toward his jawline. His skin was hot beneath your lips, his scent still lingering thick in the air.

“Didn’t want to end things too soon.” he mumbled, his hands sliding over your thighs, gripping your hips with a little more urgency now. His fingers were firm, almost desperate. He needed to hold onto something. When his hands slid lower to grab your ass, you couldn’t help but gasp softly. God, his hands felt so big on you, rough and sure as they gripped you tight. 

You bit your lip, leaning into his touch. “I don’t mind.” you whispered against his ear. His breath hitched, and you could feel the way his body reacted to your words, his grip on you tightening even more. 

“You’ll have to wait.” he muttered, though the way he was looking at you, with half-lidded eyes, made you question his own resolve. His hands slid over the curve of your ass, repeatedly, squeezing, and the feeling of his touch sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

“You think you can hold off that long?” you asked, grinding down on him just a little, testing his control. You could feel him, still hard and straining beneath you, his cock pressing against your inner thigh, and the friction made you bite back a moan.

He groaned softly, his hands pulling you closer, fingers digging into your skin as his body responded almost instinctively. “You’re making it real hard not to lose it.” he breathed. 

“Good.” you whispered, leaning down to kiss him again, your lips brushing against his with a teasing softness, just enough to leave him wanting more. 

Alex’s hands slid up and down back. His fingers found the edge of your panties, toying with the fabric before slipping them to the side. The air between you crackled with tension, your breath catching as you felt him exploring you, fingers slipping through your wetness. He took his time, finding his way through your folds, testing you, making sure he had your full attention. 

Then, as his fingers brushed against your clit, you let out a soft moan, your body instinctively responding to the touch. His face lit up, eyes widening slightly, a crooked grin spreading across his lips.

“Found it, did I?” he teased, his voice a low murmur as he pressed a little harder, circling around your clit in slow, lazy strokes. You nodded, biting your lip, your hips shifting toward his hand. His fingers worked with an unexpected precision, even as his movements remained somewhat tentative, but god, he was learning fast.

“Fuck, Alex.” you whispered, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts as he continued, his other hand holding you steady on top of him. “That feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he asked, eyes glinting as he focused on you, the pride in his voice obvious. “I think I can tell.” he added, his fingers moving a little faster now, testing your reactions. Your moans grew louder, hips bucking into his touch, and the sound seemed to fuel him.

“You’re good at this.” you managed to say between breaths, your fingers gripping his shoulders for balance. 

“Well, I’m tryin’ my best,” he teased, but there was a seriousness in his expression now, his gaze locked onto you, like he couldn’t get enough of watching the way you responded to him. “You make it pretty easy.”

You shuddered under his touch, biting down on your lip as he continued to rub circles against your clit. His fingers slipped lower for a moment, teasing at your entrance, and then back up, keeping you on the edge but never giving you quite enough.

“Alex...” you groaned, gripping his arms a little tighter. “Please. Fuck me.”

He paused for a second, eyes flicking up to yours. When he saw the desperate look on your face, he let out a soft chuckle. “Fuck…okay.”

He moved quickly then, flipping you onto your back, the mattress soft beneath you as you lay sprawled out beneath him. His hands were everywhere. Gripping your hips, pulling your panties off, tossing them to the side. You barely had time to register the cool air against your bare skin before he was back, hovering over you. 

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs as he positioned himself between them. His hair hung over his forehead, his skin still glistening with sweat, and the sight of him like this, flushed, hungry, and completely focused on you, fuck.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice low, the words barely audible over the sound of your own heavy breathing.

“Yeah.” you whispered, your hands finding his shoulders again, pulling him closer. “God, yes. Please.”

Alex didn’t need any more encouragement. With a soft groan, he lined himself up, his fingers gripping your thighs tighter as he pushed into you, slow at first, letting you feel him. 

“Fuck.” he breathed, his head dropping to your shoulder as he began to move inside you, his body pressing into yours with a steady rhythm. “You feel so fucking good...”

Alex moaned as he sank deeper into you, his breath hot against your neck, and you couldn’t help but moan in return. The rhythm of his thrusts started slow, his hips driving into yours with this incredible mixture of urgency and control. Each movement felt perfect, his cock filling you in a way that made you feel dizzy with pleasure, like your body was made for this, for him.

“Fuck, Alex…” you gasped, arching up into him, your hands gripping his back, fingers digging into his skin. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his muscles flexing beneath your touch as he moved, and every time he hit that sweet spot, your body responded in kind, hips lifting to meet his thrusts.

He groaned in response. “So…so fuckin’ good.” His words were broken by the effort of his thrusts, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both gasped for air.

“You’re…really good at this.” you managed to tease between moans, your voice breathless, but there was no denying how real the compliment was. He felt amazing. Maybe it was the anticipation, the thrill of reconnecting like this. Or maybe it was just him. 

Alex laughed softly, his voice shaky, but you could feel the smile against your skin. “Oh yeah? Thought you were the one judging me.”

“I am.” you breathed, your nails scratching lightly down his back. “And you’re doing really well.”

“Glad I’m living up to expectations.” he muttered, his breath hitching as he thrust into you harder, a little more desperate now. His hands slid up your sides, gripping your hips, pulling you closer, deeper. “Fuck…you’re perfect.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in even closer, wanting him as deep as he could go. “Keep going.” you whispered, voice barely more than a breathy moan. “Just like that.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his pace quickening slightly, his hips snapping forward with a new intensity. He gripped you tighter. 

You nodded, biting your lip to stifle a louder moan. “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck- I’m not stopping.” he groaned, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “I’m not stopping…” His thrusts got more erratic, driven by pure need. He was close, and you could feel it in the way his body moved, in the way his grip tightened on you even more, in the way his moans became louder and more frequent.

“Alex…I’m-” you gasped. Your whole body was coiled with pleasure. 

“Fuck, I know.” he murmured, his voice almost lost in his moans. “Me too…” His hips snapped forward one last time, deep and hard, and the sensation sent you spiralling over the edge.

Alex groaned, his breath ragged and uneven as he suddenly pulled out of you, the loss of him leaving you feeling empty for a moment. He scrambled, his movements rushed and almost clumsy in the heat of the moment, hands gripping your thighs as he tried to move himself higher up your body. His eyes were wild with lust, his chest heaving as he positioned himself over you, hands bracing himself on either side of your head.

The realisation that neither of you had even thought about condoms hit you at the same time, but it was too late now, but better late than never.

“Shit-” he muttered, his voice low and breathless as he looked down at you, his cock twitching in his hand as he stroked himself. His eyes flicked between your face and your chest, pupils blown wide.

You bit your lip, watching him, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as you arched your back slightly, pushing your breasts up toward him. His breathing got heavier, his strokes faster. 

“Come on, Alex.” you whispered, your voice husky, teasing him as you reached up, running a hand up his chest. “Don’t make me wait.”

That did it.

His hips bucked forward, and he came, thick spurts landing across your chest and tits, the heat of it spreading across your skin. His face was flushed, eyes half-closed as he watched, his lips parted slightly, panting through the release.

“Fuck me…” he breathed, his voice shaky, his hand slowing as he squeezed out the last of his release. He looked down at you, his eyes flicking over the mess he’d made, and for a moment, both of you just stayed there, breathing hard, hearts racing. 

You gave him a lazy, satisfied smile, wiping a finger through the warm liquid on your skin before smirking up at him. “Well,” you said, voice playful but still breathless, “I guess you were right.”

“‘Bout what?” he asked, still coming down from the high, his fingers brushing gently over your thigh.

You grinned. “Your dick. It is quite decent.”

Alex let out a weak laugh, dropping his head against your shoulder, still trying to catch his breath. “Glad I could live up to the hype.” he mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone.

Alex collapsed against you, his body still trembling slightly. He let out a deep breath, his chest pressing against yours as he nestled into the curve of your neck, his hair sticking to your skin where his release had landed.

You laughed softly, brushing a hand through his messy, sweat-dampened hair. “You’re getting your hair all up in your jizz, Turner.”

He gave a lazy, contented sigh, nuzzling closer to you without moving an inch. “Don’t care.” he mumbled, his voice low and sleepy, as if the effort of saying those two words was almost too much.

You chuckled, lightly stroking his back. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah, yeah.” he murmured, half-asleep already, “I’ve had worse.”

You paused for a moment, letting the quiet settle between you, before curiosity got the better of you. “So…do you usually fuck girls after gigs?” The question came out more casually than you intended, but you needed to know for some reason. 

Alex didn’t move. “Nah.” he muttered, his voice muffled by your skin. He shifted, turning his head so his cheek was resting against your chest. “Not really into all that…not good enough for groupies, anyway.”

You snorted at his modesty. “Not good enough? Have you seen yourself? You could probably have your pick of any girl in this city.”

He lifted his head slightly, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure?”

“Because I just shagged you,” you teased, raising an eyebrow, “And I’ve got pretty high standards.”

Alex laughed, his body shaking slightly against yours. “Lucky me, then.”

You grinned, running a hand down his back as you felt him settle into you again. “So why me, then?”

He shrugged, his fingers tracing light patterns over your waist, absentmindedly playing with your panties he found on the bed. “Dunno.” he admitted, voice soft and a little more serious now. “Just…been a while, I guess. And then I saw you, and…it felt right.” He paused, then added, “You’ve always been different.”

You glanced down at him, your heart fluttering a little at the sincerity in his words. “Different how?”

He lifted his head again, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you properly. “Like…you’re real. Always have been. Back when we were kids, you were always the one I felt like I could be myself around. And now…” He trailed off, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he shrugged again. “I don’t know. Guess I just wanted to feel that again.”

For a moment, you were quiet, taken aback by his honesty. You hadn’t expected this, him to open up like this. But then again, maybe that was just Alex. Even after all this time.

“You’re such a softie, Turner.” you said, smiling as you lightly flicked his forehead.

He rolled his eyes but smiled back, resting his head on your chest again. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it get around, alright? Gotta keep up the cool front for the band.”

You laughed, running your fingers through his hair. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

a/n: based on this request. i love fetussy <3

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[avatar-anna]

please please pleeeeeease more of assistant×harry!! 🥺

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

August 2013

In just a year of being Harry Styles’ assistant, Y/n had seen a lot, experienced a lot, and learned to expect just about anything, which was why her head began to throb before they even touched down in Las Vegas.

“Here,” a voice said from above her. Y/n was supposed to be answering emails and prepping for all the appearances Harry was supposed to make before the jet landed, but she decided to close her eyes. Just for a few minutes. Not that anyone would’ve noticed, anyway. The boys were all hanging out in the back of the plane, and Natalie, Zayn’s assistant, was watching the boys to make sure they didn’t get into too much trouble. All the assistants took turns when the boys of One Direction were in a confined space together; tag teaming just seemed the fairest deal.

When she peeked an eye open, though, she was surprised to see Harry standing beside her seat, a mug in his outstretched hand. Smiling, she took it, watching through tired eyes as he sat down across from her. He was in a red flannel shirt, though it was hardly buttoned, and the black skinny jeans he’d taken to wearing almost the entire tour. He had multiple pairs, all the same exact brand and style, just in case one ripped. Y/n would know. She had to race all over Manhattan when that very nightmare happened and Harry didn’t have any backups. Now there were at least four in his suitcase at all times. And an extra one in her backpack just to be safe. Harry swore the bag that followed her everywhere was made of magic because her whole life—and his—was nearly placed in there. But Y/n knew it wasn’t magic, she was just prepared for everything.

“I told the boys we’d be on our best behavior while we’re here. Just for you,” Harry said, giving Y/n his most innocent grin.

She’d seen that grin too many times to believe him, but the sentiment was nice. He and the boys were never menaces to her or the other assistants per day, but their antics did make her life more difficult depending on what they got up to. “That’s sweet of you.”

“I’m a sweet guy,” Harry said with a grin. Then with a nod toward Y/n’s phone, he asked, “Who’re you texting over there?”

“I’m not texting anyone. I’m sending emails,” she said.

“What? Even while we’re in the air?” he asked incredulously. “Do you ever not work?”

Y/n grinned. “Of course.”

“Well then put the phone down and talk to me. I feel like I've known you forever but I don't actually know you” Harry said, and it sounded like he was almost whining.

Y/n looked up from her phone. Harry’s eyes were pleading as he leaned forward in his seat. She was honestly a little surprised that he was so insistent that she talk to him. He was always nice of course, and they’d had brief conversations that didn’t involve work here and there, but Harry didn’t know much about Y/n personally. She kept her personal life private for the most part, for no other reason than she liked to keep things professional while she was working.

Setting her phone down, Y/n crossed her leg over the other and looked at Harry expectantly. "Alright. What would you like to know?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Y/n choked on the tea Harry had given her. "That's the question you want to start with?"

Harry shrugged before leaning in playfully. "Are you avoiding the question?"

"No. To both questions," she answered honestly.

"Hm."

"Hm? What's that supposed to mean?" Y/n asked. She thought they were having a lighthearted conversation but Harry looked contemplative.

"Why not?" he asked, not answering her question.

Y/n ran a tired hand over her face. "This is starting to feel like an interrogation, Mr. Styles."

"Sorry, sorry, I don't mean to pry," he said, leaning back in his seat. The playful gleam in his green eyes told Y/n differently, though. "I just feel like you know a lot of intimate details about my life, and all I know is that you like cinnamon bagels and have an affinity for wearing black. And you always manage to wake up before I do, which just seems outrageous to me sometimes."

Y/n pondered what he said and supposed he had a point. She did know a lot about Harry's relationships, or the intimate details of his life he referred to based on his line of questioning. But it was her job to know. She made sure he was up and ready each day, she ensured that no one night stands overstayed their welcome or helped themselves to his clothes after he was gone; she was privy to his PR dates and the ones he wanted no one else to know about. Their... relationship was one sided, and Y/n didn't fault him for his curiosity.

"You know how I take my tea, and that I drink tea at all," she finally said, her voice light.

Harry smiled, as if he'd been waiting to engage in whatever game he'd been trying to play with her since he sat down across from her. "I noticed you reach for the tea packets whenever we fly."

"It relaxes me," Y/n admitted.

"Do you not like flying?"

Y/n shrugged, trying to act more casual than she felt. "It's mostly the takeoff and landing. I don't know it just...freaks me out a little. All the jostling and pressure and whatnot."

"You picked a strange job if you don't like to fly, I'm afraid," Harry said.

"Hence the herbal tea. I'd take something a little stronger if I didn't think you boys would do something the minute my eyes were closed."

"We wouldn't—I would never—You can take a nap around us, Y/n," Harry said, frowning as if he were truly offended by what she said. "I know we like to pull pranks or whatever, but we wouldn't. I wouldn't let them do that to you."

His sincerity was sweet, his gaze hard and imploring. Y/n didn't mean for their conversation to turn down this route but somehow it did, and she couldn't help but notice how angular Harry's features were when he looked at her like that. Protective.

Something light and airy unfurled in her belly that she pointedly ignored.

"I was mostly kidding, but thank you."

And just like that, the hard look was gone, the tense fog lifted. Harry grinned and reached in his back pocket, pulling out a deck of cards. “Play with me?”

“You don’t want to play with the boys?” Y/n asked, genuinely curious.

“I need to practice for this weekend, and they’re not good enough competition.”

“Oh, and I am?” she said. Y/n knew how to play cards, but she wasn’t any kind of pro.

"We're about to find out."

Harry set the cards on the table between them and split the deck to shuffle them. Y/n watched his hands as the cards shuffled between his long, nimble fingers. There were calluses on them now from learning to play the guitar. He was a couple months in, and he was already pretty good. Harry often played the new songs or chords he learned for her, eager to show his progress and knowing she wouldn’t judge him when his fingers slipped from time to time.

When he finally stopped, Y/n realized she’d been openly staring at his hands for a little too long. She snapped her head up, thankful that Harry hadn’t caught her staring. Shuffling around in her seat, she asked, “What are we playing?”

*.*

Later that night, Y/n was alone in her hotel room. One Direction’s performance in Las Vegas went off without a hitch, and the boys had hit the Strip to celebrate. Harry insisted she join them, promising a night she would never forget, but she declined. She had plans of her own tonight.

Finishing the last touches on her hair and giving herself one last check in the mirror, Y/n grabbed her keys and her purse. A knock on the door sounded, and thinking it was Natalie, Y/n rushed to open it. When she did, her eyes widened.

“Mr. Styles? What are you doing here?”

Harry was in fact standing on the other side of her door, a bottle of champagne in one hand and the same deck of cards they’d played with on the plane in the other. They'd played until it was time for landing. Y/n had a large pile of candy by the end of it—Harry had wanted to play with real money but Y/n joked she couldn't afford to play real poker with him. And as the plane started to descend, Harry switched seats so that he was beside her, offered his hand for her to squeeze until the plane finally touched down. It had been the most tension-free landing of the tour for Y/n, and though neither of them said anything about it, Harry knew she was grateful for him being there.

He looked sheepish now as he took her in, the realization that she was on her way out striking him as he saw her clothes—a pair of jeans and a black button down top that was only buttoned in the middle, and black boots to match.

“Sorry, I wasn’t feeling up for going out tonight, so I came down here to—but of course you have plans. It’s your night off, you’re allowed to—”

“Is everything okay, Mr. Styles?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “Did you need me to call a doctor? Run down to the pharmacy? I can—”

“No, I…I came here to—to play cards again, but if you already have plans I won’t get in your way.”

Y/n’s head tilted to the side, partly confused and partly endeared. Harry was a kind boss, but he’d never come to her hotel room to hang out before, especially when parties and liquor were guaranteed elsewhere. The time she spent with him was strictly professional.

“Natalie and I had planned to go out tonight,” she said, looking down at her purse.

Y/n didn’t often go out while on tour, but Natalie knew someone that could get them into some exclusive rooftop bar with discounted drinks. She hadn’t had a night off in a while and thought it would be a fun and responsible way to spend her time in Vegas. But now that Harry was here…

“I can cancel—”

“Don’t you dare,” Harry said, stepping away from the door. His eyes trailing up and down her body in a way that didn’t feel entirely professional. A look Y/n chose to ignore. “I should’ve asked you earlier.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you could always come with us,” Y/n said.

She wasn’t sure how Natalie would feel about that. Her friend had made it clear that she wanted a night away from the boys of One Direction so she could let loose a little. But she didn’t want to just leave Harry on her doorstep.

“No, no, you go. I’m not in a partying mood tonight,” Harry said, waving Y/n off.

“If you’re sure,” she said.

“I’m sure.”

“Next time, then,” she offered.

Harry smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Then, before she could say anything else, Harry fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled out a couple bills and handed them to her. Y/n tried to protest, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, making sure he watched her put the money in her purse. “And take my driver too. There’s a lot of creeps out there. Dominic will take good care of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles,” Y/n said graciously.

“No problem, Y/n, and for the last time, it’s Harry.”

Y/n grinned as she let the door shut behind her. “Whatever you say, Mr. Styles.”

*.*

Y/n trudged through the halls of the lavish hotel, her boots shuffling tiredly across the carpet. She’d had a good night, but when Natalie and a group they’d met at the bar wanted to move onto a club, Y/n decided it was time to go. She had her fun, but she wasn’t the clubbing type, and she had to be up early the next morning.

And she couldn’t help but think about Harry sitting around in his hotel room all alone. She spent nearly every waking moment with him, and yet on her night off, she felt the need to go see him, be with him. Y/n enjoyed hanging out with Harry on the plane to Vegas. It had been the first time they’d interacted with each other in a non-professional way. He told her goofy jokes and playfully tried to peek at her cards, a look of genuine surprise when she beat him on more than one occasion.

For a moment, Y/n had actually forgotten that he wasn’t her boss and that she wasn’t his assistant. For a moment, they were just two friends going on a trip somewhere.

And for whatever reason, Y/n wanted to revisit that moment. She bypassed her floor’s button on the elevator, opting to press the one a few levels up from hers. The hall was quiet, which made sense if the other boys were still out. Harry told Y/n earlier that he wanted a quiet night in, but as she approached his door, she heard music and muffled voices from the other side. She had his extra key and would’ve been able to enter no problem, but when she made it to the double doors of Harry’s suite, she elected to knock. Maybe she should’ve left when she realized he had company, but she stayed, eager to see him for some reason.

It took a minute or two for someone to answer. With the music so loud, Y/n wasn’t surprised no one could hear her knock. She nearly gave up after knocking a third time, the door finally opened.

“Can I help you?”

It was a young man. A handsome young man with short brown hair and freckles over his nose and a deep skin tone. His eyes looked droopy, like he’d woken up just to answer the door. Or had recently smoked a joint. The latter was more likely.

“I’m Mr. Styles’ assistant. I just thought I would check in. He has an early morning tomorrow.”

“Oh. Um…He’s…busy?” the man said, clearly not wanting the fun to stop. “Should I get him for you?”

Y/n had never been in this predicament before. Sure, she knew Harry occasionally liked to invite someone into his hotel room for a night of fun, and this wasn’t the first time she’d found another boy keeping him company in this way. The first time that happened, Harry wouldn’t meet her eye for a whole day, but she never judged him for it, and she never said a word of it to him or anyone else. That was his personal business, not hers.

So the boy wasn’t what caught her off guard. It was that he was awake. Y/n always interacted with Harry’s one, sometimes two, night stands the morning after, equipped with a pen and an NDA, and possibly a sharp wit, depending on how reluctant the individual was to leave. But she’d never been in this position before, in the middle of it. She felt embarrassed, at a loss for words.

“N—No,” she finally said. “He just told me he wasn’t feeling well earlier. I thought I’d check on him before heading to bed, but…it seems like he’s feeling better.”

That’s and understatement, Y/n thought. She felt disappointed for some reason. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she really thought Harry would want to hang out, that he would somehow be waiting for her to come back, which was stupid. He had no reason to.

Y/n finally started to shuffle away, leaving Harry and his companion to his own devices. The door shut after the young man gave her a small smile and a wave, leaving her alone in an all too quiet hallway, the sounds of their voices muffled by the thin walls.

Sleep was in order. She knew that she was probably having an off day. Too much traveling, no doubt. Harry wasn’t her friend. She was his assistant, hired by his management team to make sure his every need and whim was met and sought to. Tomorrow she would wake up and remember that.

*.*

The next morning when Y/n stepped onto the plane, Harry was already seated in her little corner of the jet, a deck of cards, two steaming mugs, a multitude of snacks, and a big blanket were waiting. He didn't say anything about last night, so she didn't either. Not a word was said at all during takeoff, Harry merely offered his hand again, and when the plane was leveled in the air, he took out the deck of cards.

"Up for another round? This time Oreos are on the line so I'm less inclined to lose."

After that, plane rides weren't so bad anymore.

[cigarett3wif3]

TOMB FOR TWO

Rockstar Leon S. Kennedy x model reader | AO3 18+ MDNI. smut, female reader, drugs and alcohol addiction implied, Leon is scumbag i guess, blowjob, use of coke, deepthroat i guess, dirty talk. tags: @ivmp words: 2,934

notes: so.... dont do drugs/alcohol and idk i feel like i need to clarify, some stuff here i heard in real life directly from insufferable men, so don't interract with such kind of people for ur own good.

Leon loves ladies, he was always the kind of man who loved every woman, if she was attractive enough to his taste of course. Also, he considered himself a nice guy, but a lot of girls didn’t get him. It got a lot worse when he cheated on his ex-girlfriend, after that nasty breakup and a slap he received, it felt like she had put a curse on him. Maybe he is cursed, it would explain why his attempts to form established relationships always failed. At least the passion for music was always with him, no matter how hard it was for him and it has helped indeed him in many areas; gaining more ego and becoming finally a rockstar, which certainly has helped him find lovers to warm his bed.

In his mind, he has already created his own list of preferences, models were always a big ‘no’ cause pretty dolls in the majority were the most annoying ones in his honest and ‘humble’ opinion. A lot of them are anorectic, and Leon doesn’t need a girl whose only hard thing in her mouth would have been his dick. Also, pretty women are usually really intimidating and have high standards, he doesn’t want to risk a possible denial. Cool guys don’t get hurt.

But that list didn’t help him at all, it didn’t prevent him from getting involved with you so quickly. A model and you looked sick for his tastes, dark circles under your eyes and lack of any vivid light in them too. He put two and two together, probably you did often drugs and he didn’t know which ones, he never asked. Your first appearance was at one of the events where his band performed and you were bored to death, gaze leaped around the surroundings, trying to find something more interesting to linger on than whatever this place is. Your pupils were dilated as hell and your jaw was tensed, making those useless movements and biting inside of your cheeks. He didn’t give much thought and he was drunk already while your fingertips were tracing his jaw and a sparkle in your eyes was enough for him. And after all, you agreed to come with him. His expectations weren’t high, another quick one-night stand he would forget about, but after stepping into his apartment you got sick. Vomiting in his toilet until it became quiet and he decided to check, after all, he is a good guy, really. And he doesn’t need a corpse in his flat. Pulling your hair to tilt your face towards him and witness your exhausted expression; your lips parted with saliva glistening on them and circles under your half-lidded eyes got more evident and darker. All this combined led to him having the hardest boner he has ever had.

Your presence in his life only gave him a boner and a headache, also an urge to strangle and shake you like a doll, but he never had enough strength to leave you behind and forget everything related to you. He tried, his mind would fill with thoughts about you, leading to jerk off a lot when he is sober and not recording music. His drunk ass would always crawl back to you, after feeling your eyes on him everywhere even when he was smoking out of a bar. Those billboards with your face, promoting some products and looking ethereal, without sickness all over your face, feeling your gaze as if it was only directed towards him. Those photos were the reasons his legs always lead him to your place, finding you already hammered as much as he is, if not worse, more than happy to let him spill his load in your mouth or pussy. After all, Leon is a simple man, not a romantic one, romanticism has died within him after that ‘undeserved’ slap.

Needles were a big ‘no’ for you, explaining they can leave marks and they are scary, also those are used by drug-addicted people which you believed you aren’t. After all, you like them thanks to your dear and generous friend who shares them with you. While Leon was an old-fashioned man, he has always preferred booze, even after finding himself in weird situations without any memories, only with pain pulsing in his head and hangover. You didn’t understand that at all, it has never brought you any good sensations, also alcohol has a distinct smell you have always hated and there is nothing sexy about it. That’s why Leon was always simple in your eyes, a rockstar with little to no existent layers in his personality; one hand with the bottle and the other one on his dick. In the end, both can destroy many lives.

Of course, whatever you both had going on gave you the possibility to visit his concerts without spending a penny. Leon has never asked if you like his music though, but still, he believes it is good, after all, there wouldn’t be a big female fanbase over anything? So there was never a thought behind his eyes to consider your tastes. Besides, you didn’t attend often, always brushing off your runway shows to which he was never invited. Not like he needed to be there, but still it made him feel a little bit bitter. Other reasons were similar to ‘I don’t want to’ and if to be honest, this isn’t a valid reason for his calls to be ignored.

This time you didn’t have other options, nor Leon would let you skip his performance. Soon understanding it was a mistake, you shouldn’t be here, cause during the entire concert his attention was drifting in between his music and you, trying to find you among many women. Every time he notices you not listening to the sound the instruments create, it fills him with bitterness and annoyance. Time passed slowly, finally finishing performance and emptying his flask quickly. He was tempted to leave you alone, to not give any warning, and get another girl from the crowd, but also this would be risky for a lot of reasons; first, he doesn’t have any condoms, and second, groupies are annoying and he doesn’t want to deal with them for a quick fuck today. The only solution he came across was to leave this place earlier and push you into his car.

The ride is okay, the only noise is some music coming from the car stereo. He twitched a little bit with the switch before, but he didn’t really listen to whatever was on until he recognized his own song. A nice touch. “Your music sucks” you say, breaking the silence which was only filled with his voice coming from the radio. This is new for you, music is his job, and what does a model know about it? His face turns to look at you for a brief moment, he is driving and he doesn’t want to get himself killed cause of you. “It doesn’t.” Leon protests quickly, but your voice interrupts him again, making him groan and want to stop the car. To strangle you. People love him! His groupies would be green with envy if they ever got to know about you. “It does” you say, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and looking through the window before rolling it down and letting fresh air coming in. The wind noise is ear beating, enough to give him a headache, nor does it help with his mood right now. Bashing noise to his ears, but you don’t care. Your voice fills the room, too bad it is loud enough to catch on and it is not mixed with the sound of the wind. The road is dark, and it is already hard to drive after consuming alcohol, but your voice makes this worse. “Your music never changes, mundane, same melody. Boring even, and generic. I don’t like it”

Then you stay silent, Leon’s mind is buzzing with only two thoughts in it: what a bitch you are, how he wants to shut you up with his dick and he needs to calm down, to let off steam. That’s three or four though. Math wasn’t his forte.

He pulled over his car, almost stumbling over from it as the chilly night breeze hit his face, filling his lungs. Refreshing and sobering in some way. It is dark, he didn’t even notice how he moved to your side and opened the door, looking down at your face with a blank stare, while his slow mind keeps processing your words. You shift on the seat of the car to face him with a raised eyebrow, looking so annoyed and confused by his attitude. Leon isn’t sure why he was hurt by your words, but this look was not new for him; every time a sentence would leave his mouth, your face would express an annoyance as if he just said the dumbest thing possible. You are probably just trying to mess with him and this always made him hornier, his cock would start stiffening in his jeans and even this isn’t an exception, like one of Pavlov’s dogs he is. Or this is just alcohol talking.

The inside of the car enlightens your features and it is maybe the only thing so bright in such a dark spot right now of the road. His index finger brushes over your lower lip, tracing the contour of soft flesh beneath his thickened skin after years of playing guitar. He can’t help but stare at your mouth, admiring the lipstick on it, looking clean and emphasizing the shape of your lips. Too bad his digit smeared the color a little bit over the form. You don’t notice that thank God, cause he doesn’t need another comment from you. Silence makes you much prettier. Your hand reaches for his thigh, brushing over the inner part and the annoyance in your gaze quickly changes to interest as it slowly travels down to the bulge which started to form already. Leon doesn’t know what magic you use on him, cause it is much easier to get even half-hard dick with you, while the majority of girls would waste his time and then cry about not being able to turn him on. He blamed this trouble on them, not on his best friend (booze). To not waste much time, you tuck out his cock from his pants.

Your fingers envelop his half-hard length, before stroking, spitting a mouthful of your saliva down on it. Spreading over the hardened skin with a quick and easy motion of your hand, your touch lingers on the spot below its tip which makes him groan lowly. His fingers tangle in your strands, pulling your face closer to his cock as a silent plea to sink your mouth down around him.

“Don’t play, come on,” Leon says, not noticing how his voice got hoarse. “Give it a kiss, doll” In the past, you would be annoyed at his words, but tonight you don’t mind, enjoying how pretty he is when he wants to shove his dick down your throat. Your lips press against his tip and kiss around it, teasing him and licking away precum, finally bobbing your head down. The warm and wet heat of your mouth envelops his cock, your tongue flicks along the shaft. Leon can feel himself getting harder and his hips buck back in response, letting quiet groans. But the bliss didn’t last a lot, you pop out his cock and slap it against your tongue, rubbing against your lips while keeping eye contact with his eyes. The sight is dirty, lipstick leaves its color on his wet and throbbing dick, intensifying the moment.

Until he noticed there was something under your silver sequin top, that caught his gaze only now. But also he doesn��t know what it may be, wondering silently and fixating on your chest. Or he is just seeing things, until your hand slightly lowers the edge of fabric to take the bag with white powder, satisfying his curiosity. The timing made him frown, almost convincing himself you could read his mind. But also, what should he have expected? Boobs would be nice, actually.

He isn’t going to deny a pleasure to see them. That’s why his hands reach for the edge of the fabric, pulling down to expose your breasts, nipples get harder at the contact with the cold air of the night. His fingers knead soft flesh, thumb and index pinch nipples to evoke your moans out, observing your face change even for a brief moment because of him until you slap away his hands. It was nice while it lasted. He watches how you make a thin white line on his cock, almost dripping some on your skirt, and letting a curse fall from your lips. If to be honest, this is his first time seeing you doing drugs in front of him. Also, there are too many ways to consume Coke, he heard about how some women shove it in their vagina, but he isn’t sure if this is true. You lean down and snort it away with an ‘ah’ leaving your lips, while rubbing your nose and blinking messily, trying to shake off some tears forming on your waterline. He was tempted to try, but you don’t share.

“Fuck, that was hot” Leon comments, letting a low whistle. Your hand pumps his cock in a steady rhythm.

The little pause was over, with a giggle and lightened expression on your face, coke does wonders. Your mouth starts giving kisses, before sucking on the tip more eagerly than before, and your tongue swirls in a circular motion around it. For a brief moment, you shift to the underside too by flicking over that sensitive spot, making his hips buck, pushing your head deeper to sink you down along the length. You can feel more saliva pooling in your mouth, slobbering over his cock now, and spit drips down onto his balls. The Coke has its visible influence now, dilated pupils are directed into his blue eyes, keeping eye contact. He knows that state of yours, being happy and confident to do anything, clinging and not letting him go away until powder’s effects don’t start to weaken. Your heart is beating loudly in your ears, not hearing those loud suction noises your mouth does which he adores. Leon’s fingers tighten his grip on your hair, tugging and pushing your head deeper, his tip kissing your throat and he groans, while your nose rubs against his happy trail. Your jaw is more relaxed, taking him deeply and you try to swallow the excess of saliva and his precum, so your throat tightens around his cock, he can feel you choking on his now twitching arousal. It is useless, you can feel saliva dripping not only on his sac now, but also from the corners of your mouth down to your collarbone. Leon pulls your head away before slamming with quick motion his hips against your face again. His cock is slick with your saliva, sloppily moving out and back into your mouth, constant stimulation of your tongue flicking against his head and at the base made his balls tighten signaling that his orgasm is approaching. Initially, his own moans are breathless, slowly starting to increase in volume, as he took more control in his own hands. His movements are erratic, the sight of your teary expensive mascara and lipstick ruined by him and leaving marks on his cock is one of many reasons to be alive, he thinks.

“Do you see yourself right now, huh?” He moans, shaking his head with disbelief, as you keep sucking him off sloppily, making more wet sounds that intensify and fill the air between you both. His voice is at the edge of quiet whine, needy moans reach your ears. “Yeah, that’s it, all you have to do is let my cock just slide in and out of your pretty mouth, doll”

He slams his hips for the last time burying his cock deep into your throat, the head grinds before twitching for a last time spurting out a load of cum. His fingers grip tighter, almost painfully, not letting you pull away and spit it out, swallowing the bitterness that fills your senses, making you gag more. The booze diet isn’t the best one. He lets you pull away, your tongue for the last time brushed his tip and he stands still, his breathing is unsteady and chaotic, while you wipe away the remaining saliva from your skin.

“So….” Leon interrupts the silence between them, he is speaking without giving too much thought, and he quickly pauses for a second, trying to organize a decent sentence. “What about… something formal? Between us I mean” Your eyes don’t even linger on his face after his question, the so-known-annoyance returns to your face and you pull down the sun visor to fix your makeup. “Ew, no” your voice expresses disgust at the thought of being more than just a quick hookup, you roll your eyes as your thumb cleans the smear of your lipstick. Your nose twitches still, even if the effect of the drug starts to lessen. “I don’t like you like that” “It was a joke,” he brushes off quickly, feeling his own body recovering from orgasm and wanting to get away from you, so the bitterness and disappointment would not irk him so much. “For God’s sake, smile at least.”

Story of his life, nothing new.

[chestersturniolo]

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

~ fwb!chris ~

warnings; bisexual!reader , suggestive, v brief mentions of alcohol/drugs.

~~~~

The party was in full swing, music blasting, solo cups scattered on every surface, a mixure of alcohol, weed, and sweat filled the whole house.

You didn’t expect to see him tonight , but there he was. Chris. Sitting on the couch , legs wide in that typical man spread of his. The dim light making his sharp features stand out even more. His eyes were fixed on something. Curiosity got the better of you as you follow his gaze to see it’s not something. But someone.

A girl you recognised from a few of your classes, dancing in the middle of the living room, her body swaying to the music. He was clearly checking her out. A flicker of something crossed your chest. Not quite jealousy. But close. Then again, it’s not like you and chris had a label, which he loved to remind you. Casual. No strings. Nothing serious.

Little did chris know, that girl was more than an acquaintance to you, having multiple classes together, being put together on assignments, you’d started to grow a small friendly bond. Enough for you to walk up to her at a party without hesitation at least.

You decided to play a little game. See, chris knew you were bisexual. You smirked to yourself as the idea formed, the alcohol buzzing in your system making it even more fun.

Without so much as a glance in chris’ direction, you slip into his eyeline and sauntered over to her. She noticed you and grinned, “Hey girl!-” you say, leaning in close so she could hear you over the music.

“-you up for making a guy jealous with me?”

she raised an eyebrow, intrigued, before letting out a laugh “Hell yes, let’s do it!”

You could feel chris’ eyes burning into your back as you moved closer to her, both of you starting to dance. Bodies swaying in sync, hands grazing,hips pressing. It didn’t take long before you both were full on grinding against eachother. The heat between you drawing more than just chris’ attention. The music pulsed, perfectly matching the rhythm of your teasing performance.

Chris watched in awe, his hooded eyes dark and intense, lips parted as his jaw hung ever so slightly. You caught glimpses of him in your peripheral, gripping the arm of the couch, taking a swig of his beer ,watching as you pulled the girl closer, your fingers trailing her waist.

Without breaking the rhythm, you moved her so her back faced chris, giving you a perfect view of him over her shoulder. Then, as you let your eyes finally lock with his, you went for it. Slowly , deliberately, you leaned in and kissed her. The make out was hot and passionate, both of your craned necks allowing you to keep eye contact with chris, giving him the most lustful, teasing eyes you possibly could.

His reaction was instant, his tongue running along his teeth before clenching his jaw. Slowly shaking his head with the smallest smirk as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He shifted in his seat , his eyes blazing with something that looked like both frustration and desire. That’s when it hit him. You’d known he was watching all along.

You broke the kiss and looked at the girl with a playful grin. “Wanna check out upstairs? it’ll totally look like we’re hooking up” you suggest, the mischief evident in your voice. “Best idea ever” she giggled.

You waste no time grabbing her hand, and together you made your way through the crowd, Chris’ eyes following every step. He watched in disbelief as you lead her to the stairs, torn between being pissed off and unbelievably turned on at the sight.

~

Upstairs , you and the girl wondered around, giggling as you peeked into random rooms, nosing around. Clearly finding your little game hilarious.

When you finally decided to head back down, you noticed chris right away, standing near ish to the bottom of the stairs, stood talking with one of his friends, but clearly waiting for you. A smirk spread across your face. You had him exactly where you wanted him.

As you descended the stairs, his gaze stayed locked on you, his attempt to act nonchalant failing miserably. You reached the bottom, still avoiding looking at him, you made sure to tug your skirt down a little, smoothing your hair as if you had just come from something a little more…intimate.

You turned to the girl , planting a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thanks girl” you whispered in her ear , pulling back with a wink. She laughed, winking back before disappearing into the crowd.

Still, you didn’t acknowledge chris, not directly anyway. You walked right past him, feeling his eyes piercing through you as you made your way to the kitchen island.

it was full of solo cups and half-empty bottles, but you went straight for the punch bowl, ladling the bright blue mystery liquid into your cup.

It didn’t take long before you felt a presence right behind you, you knew straight away. Chris.

He stood close, like he was barely holding himself back. The heat from his body radiating towards you as the air between you thickened with tension. You didn’t turn around, not giving him the satisfaction of your attention just yet.

Chris got impatient, as he stepped forward. You felt his body press against your back, now sandwiched between him and the kitchen island. Your breath hitched slightly at the contact.

He reached, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before leaning down, his warm breath dancing on your neck as he spoke into your ear , “Having fun?”

You took a slow sip from your cup, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Oh, i’m having a blast” you replied in a teasing voice.

Chris backs up, allowing you enough room to turn around, as you shuffle in your spot to face him, a smug look still plastered on your face.

“You think you’re funny , don’t you?”

You raised an eyebrow, “i don’t know what you’re talking about” you say innocently.

He let out a low chuckle, although he wasn’t amused. He stepped forward once again,his hands snaking past either side of you, gripping the counter behind, caging you in.

“You know exactly what i’m talking about-“ he muttered,his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up again, “-fucking girls without me?”

You click your tongue “Ohhhh, that”

Chris’ stare is dangerous, he scoffs “Yes.that.”

“Aw what’s the matter baby? Jealous?” you coo in fake sympathy. Jutting your bottom lip out slightly for effect.

Chris hands quickly find your waist, pulling you close,slamming your body into his, he hangs his head in the crook of your neck, the tip of his nose tickling your skin. You shudder at the whisper of contact as your heart rate quickens.

He starts littering hungry kisses all over your neck as you let your eyes flutter shut, instinctually craning your neck to give him more access. He leans to your ear “I’ve waited long enough for my turn don’t y’think?” he whispers, before pulling away with a lick of his lips and ravenous eyes, as he grips your wrist, pulling you back upstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n; loooooved writing this i hope you enjoyedd!!! (also who peeped the ✨mystery liquid✨ reference? i had to do it lmao)

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4

@brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i @starstrucktyrantinfluencer

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake, Cheerleader Extraordinaire

Okay, hear me out: Tim deciding to try out for the college cheerleading team.

It starts out as a joke. Maybe Danny and Tim are at one of Danny’s football games, and Tim’s casually making some witty comment about the cheer routines. Danny, of course, being the chaotic boyfriend he is, goes, “Bet you couldn’t do half of that.”

Oh? well then, challenge accepted.

Tim’s been training for years—gymnastics, acrobatics, fighting crime on the regular—it’s not like a few flips and jumps are going to be any trouble for him. Plus, there’s something about the high-energy, peppy atmosphere that lowkey appeals to Tim. The chance to just let loose for a bit? Why not?

So, Tim being Tim, fully commits to the idea. He starts practicing routines, learning the cheers, and by the time tryouts roll around, he’s ready. Danny’s all supportive, of course, sitting in the bleachers with the biggest grin because this is Tim we’re talking about, and he’s about to blow everyone’s minds.

And he does.

The other cheerleaders? Absolutely shook. Tim’s out there pulling off flips, doing perfect jumps, and landing everything like he’s been doing this for years. He even throws in some crazy acrobatics just for the fun of it. Needless to say, Tim makes the team—no one can argue with those skills.

Then comes the uniform. The iconic moment.

Most of the men on the team wear shorts, but Tim, being Tim, decides to rock the skirt version of the uniform because why not? He likes the look, it’s more flexible, and he might as well commit to the whole look as well. And besides, he’s Tim Drake. He’s not going to let gender norms stop him from looking fabulous.

Cue Danny absolutely losing it.

Like, Danny was supportive before, but now? Oh no, now he’s flustered beyond reason. He didn’t expect this level of power move from Tim. When Tim shows up to the next game, wearing the cheerleading skirt, looking ridiculously good with those legs, flipping around with that same cool confidence—Danny can’t handle it. His brain? Fried. He can’t even focus on the game because every time Tim moves, Danny’s heart skips about three beats.

There’s a part of Danny that’s just beaming with pride because that’s his boyfriend out there, but there’s also this tiny, flustered part of him that’s a little jealous too. Now the whole campus gets to see how freaking amazing Tim looks in that cheer uniform, and Danny’s like, “Great, now I have to share this sight with the rest of the world.”

Tim, of course, notices. He can see Danny getting distracted on the field, shooting him these flustered glances, and Tim just smirks. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and if wearing the skirt gets that kind of reaction from his boyfriend, he’s definitely keeping it.

The best part? After the game, when Danny finally gets a chance to pull Tim aside. He’s trying to play it cool, but it’s obvious that he’s still a little jealous and way too flustered. He wraps Tim in his varsity jacket, tugging him close and muttering something about how now everyone gets to see Tim like that—but then immediately follows it up with a kiss because he’s still Danny and loves every second of it.

And Tim? He’s living for it. The cheerleading, the attention, Danny’s flustered reactions—it’s all just too good. Now, every game, Tim rocks that skirt uniform, flips and cheers like the pro he is, and Danny’s just the supportive (and slightly jealous) boyfriend watching from the field.

They’re the campus couple—the star quarterback and his cheerleader boyfriend, always hyping each other up, and now, every time Danny looks over at Tim mid-game, he’s reminded that, yep, Tim’s his, skirt and all.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

hi!! I’m very aware that this was requested on the 13th of August, and literally over a month later I’ve finally managed to write it up. I feel unbelievably guilty for not getting it done sooner and I’m sorry it even took this long. I really really hope you enjoy it and I’m ever grateful for the patience 🤍🤍

title: there’s always another mystery

pairing: jameson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: avery kylie grambs is spending a little too much time with your boyfriend than you’d like… but when jameson starts lying about it questions are raised and tension rises until it all bubbles over

warnings: mild swearing, violence, assault

a/n: the synopsis sounds really cringy so forgive me, this fic is kind of long and very dialogue heavy and ermmm… I hope you enjoy the ending ;)

tag list: @bewitchingkisses @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31

You sit on the bed waiting for Jameson to arrive. You wonder how long he’ll take this time. You’d just seen him and Avery ascending the set of stairs that lead to his dead uncle’s wing. Him and Avery. The pretty new comer with those big hazel eyes and long soft hair, pocketing a billionaire’s fortune overnight. She had it all: the looks, the brains, the humour. She was perfection and that bugged you greatly. She was a mystery.

Literally. When Tobias had finally decided to fall asleep forever, she was the result, the heiress, the consequence. She was big masterful puzzle had popped out of nowhere, from nothing. Not that you hadn’t had you fair share of experience with that. You’d earned yourself a scholarship to one of the most prestigious private schools in Texas and raised from the ashes into a burning flame. Then you’d met Jameson Hawthorne.

He had always been an interesting character, you had just never expected his interest in you. You were the scholarship kid nobody knew or cared enough to know and somehow he was intrigued. He had found you studying the the library one day and the two of you just clicked, it was like you’d known each other for years. He’d walked you home that night and had done so ever since. From that day on you were the closest of friends. It wasn’t long before you met his brothers, mostly absent mother and extremely judgemental grandfather. Hawthorne house became a second home. The two of you sat for hours, mostly on the rooftop, staring up at an endless sky of stars and talking about anything and everything. You actually don’t think there’s a topic you haven’t covered. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly… then he started dating Emily.

From the beginning, you didn’t like her at all, but you bit your tongue from pouring out your true feelings to Jameson when he’d asked for an opinion on her. You didn’t want to make his relationship feel awkward. She was everything you didn’t want him to be with. And she wasn’t you. It shattered you, but you saw how his face lit up when he mentioned her name and you vowed you wouldn’t ruin that for him. To see him that happy was worth it.

You should’ve trusted your gut. Everyday since she broke his heart, you beat yourself up for not saying anything. There were so many chances and you took none of them. She used him, abused him and left him to rot, you supposed she didn’t account for that fact that you’d be there to save him. And then she died. It was one destructive milestone after another. Explosion after explosion. But you helped Jameson through the hardest time of his life, you fixed him when he was too broken to mend.

It wasn’t until then that you realised you loved him. I mean you’d always known you’d loved him, but never in a romantic way, it had always felt so plutonic. But judging by the pure fury that built up inside of you when Emily was mentioned, the passionate way you protected and defended him in situations and the fact that you wanted nothing more than to kiss him until he couldn’t speak, you were pretty sure you were in love. But you never acted on the feeling, too afraid you’d ruin the closeness you had. It wasn’t until one night when you’d been stargazing together that he took your face in his gentle palms and kissed your tender lips. The whole act took you by surprise suddenly, but it didn’t stop you from kissing back. It felt so natural, so normal, like it was supposed to be this way. He was sweeter than you’d imagined but in the best way possible.

“I’ve always loved you,” he’d whispered as you’d pulled away, “always.”

“I’ve always loved you too,” you’d smiled shyly, cheeks flushed with colour, “and to be honest I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

You can’t remember when it was established that he was your boyfriend but from that kiss onwards, that’s what he was to you. He was still your best friend but in a different way. There was more chemistry and kissing, but the banter remained the same. The two of you were actually planning to go on a backpacking trip around Europe but then Tobias had died and it was another round of pain and healing for Jameson, who turned to alcohol for respite. But then the will happened and Avery Kylie Grambs had appeared out of nowhere and the old man’s final game had unfurled. So the mystery girl had been an adjustment for you to say the least.

Avery wasn’t bad. In fact you liked her a lot, you could see yourself forming a friendship with her, a tight bond but the problem was the sheer amount of time she was spending with your boyfriend. After discovering she was the key to solving his grandfather’s final mystery Jameson became obsessed. He craved the answers, thirsted for knowledge. You didn’t mind at first, you let him play his game, you only ever objected the dangerous parts when he risked himself getting hurt. Other than that you said nothing. Then he let on that this all had something to do with Emily. Emily had destroyed him, from inside out. A broken, bitter shell was formed over the real Jameson. You had worked so hard to get him to see that he wasn’t broken or damaged and you feared this might undo it.

But you knew how important Emily had been, how much of his life she’d ruined, you knew Jameson needed the closure and Avery would help him to get there, but after that you expected their interaction to die down. But they didn’t. Not in the slightest. You weren’t jealous at first, you trusted Jameson and didn’t see Avery as a threat, but after a while the meetings felt too frequent and too elongated. It was a little suspicious. When you��d asked Jameson he insisted it was all part of the game.

But then that game finished and it opened up another. Of course there always had to be more to a mystery. They were Hawthorne’s. But you’d had enough, you were tired of the endless myserties. Was it so selfish to want things to go back to how they were before? When the old man’s games were not as dangerous, a little less time consuming and uninvloving of recent billionaire girls.

You’re reeled in from your deep train of thought as Jameson walks in. You look up from your desk, placing your pen down. You flash him a sweet smile in which he returns.

“So where have you been?” you ask, a hint of a forged giggle in the back of your throat.

“Nowhere,” he shrugs, the blatant lie so easily escaping his lips cuts right through your heart.

“Nowhere with brick dust on your blazer and shoes?” you raise an challenging eyebrow, arms folded across your chest.

“I climbed a wall,” he says. Lie number two, you make a mental note.

“I saw you with Avery and Xander in Toby’s wing,” you say bluntly, your face expressionless so he can’t read it.

“Are you spying on me?” he replies, gaping.

You give a delicate shrug in response and don’t answer the question directly, “what were you whispering about?”

“What do you mean?” he furrows his brow, confused.

He’s playing dumb. Fine. He can play dumb. But he won’t able to for much longer.

“I mean what were you and Avery just whispering about,” you ask directly, your tone flat as the tyre you’d burst on his car earlier that morning.

He hesitates. He doesn’t want to tell you, that’s obvious.

“Oh, was it personal?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, opting a cold, curt, feigned sort of concern to your tone.

“Oh no,” he mumbles, “well kind of…Tobias Hawthorne is alive.”

You try not to the let your jaw drop, “your grandfather?”

How had that slimy bastard managed to fake his own death and-

He shakes his head, “my uncle.”

Of course, why hadn’t you seen it sooner? Him and Avery going into his wing, the sneaking around. But then how is the question, Toby had died before Jameson had even been born.

“And so the plot thickens,” you muse, pursing your lips.

“As always,” he says, flashing you a lopsided grin that was so like him, it reminded you of the old Jameson. The one that you got closer and closer to forgetting the less you saw of him.

“Who else knows?” you ask.

“The family,” he shrugs in response.

“And Avery?” you prompt.

“She knows,” he nods, not meeting your eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, “you didn’t mention her name?”

“She was implied when I said family,” he replies.

“She was and I wasn’t,” you ask, the words not being filtered through your brain before you blurt them out. You don’t know why it hurt you so much, it just did.

“It’s not like that,” he shakes his head.

“Okay,” you reply flatly

He shoots you a knowing look and sighs, “y/n.”

“What? I said okay,” you exclaim, throwing your hands up into the air, “that means it’s okay, I’m okay, we’re all okay.”

“You don’t sound okay,” he says gently.

“Well I’m fine,” you snap.

“I didn’t mean it like that, of course you’re part of this family,” Jameson replies, trying to make up for it.

“Forget it, I don’t care,” you retort.

“Common y/n,” he groans.

“No it’s fine, I don’t care,” you shrug, very obviously caring as your voice is high pitched and you’re being far too defensive, “do what you want.”

“She just worked it out,” he explains, “she found out that-“

“I said I don’t care,” you say sharply, eyes pinned to his.

“I know you do,” he murmurs, taking a step closer.

“No I don’t,” you shake your head in denial, “end of story, what’s for dinner?”

“I know I’ve been with her a lot recently,” he sighs.

“A lot is an understatement,” you blurt out, unable to stop the thoughts that circle your mind from finally surfacing.

“It was all part of the game, you understand,” he says as a statement, not a question.

“Of course I understand,” you reply, your voice a little colder than you’d intended but it’s too late to take it back.

For a split second hurt flashed across Jameson’s features but he swiftly continues, “it was the old man’s game.”

“It always is with you,” you say curtly, with an eye roll.

“You knew what you were getting into when you became my girlfriend,” he says, growing irritated, “I warned you-“

“Getting into?” you scoff.

“The old man always has a game,” he presses on, regaining his cool.

“And you always play it,” you snap, the fury inside of your raging a little too violently to be tamed.

“I have to play,” he says, his voice strained.

“No. You don’t. You think you have to play and your grandfather knew that,” you reply, “he knew you had a thirst to play and wouldn’t resist. Prove him wrong Jamie, make him stir for the flipping grave.”

“And what if I don’t want to do that,” he asks, raising his voice slightly.

“Then you’re not the Jameson I know,” you murmur in a low, dark voice.

“Maybe I’m not anymore,” he shrugs, “people change.”

“No,” you shake your head, “people have changed you, one person in particular.”

“Avery is just a friend,” he rolls his eyes, “I don’t understand why you’re getting so hotheaded about it!”

“You’re dimming yourself down for her,” you yell.

“So what?” Jameson challenges, making the volume of your voice.

“That’s not you,” you tell him.

“Maybe it is now,” he cocks his head to the side.

“You know you’re just talking shit,” you spit.

“I like her company,” he shrugs, “and I don’t want to prove the old man wrong, I want to make him proud.”

He’s trying to get under your skin and you know it. He’s doing a good job.

“You can’t live your life trying to prove something to him, he won’t be proud, he’s dead Jameson,” you snap.

“I know he’s dead,” he shouts, “I don’t need you to tell me.”

“Good, now that information is consolidated maybe you’ll come back and live your life,” you say, the harshness in your tone making your throat ache.

“I am living my life,” he retorts.

“Running off with girls to the Laughlin’s cottage at 3am, that’s living your life?” you ask.

“Is this still about Avery?” he asks, then laughs, “you’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” you yell, “you have spent the majority of the past few weeks at her side, working this shit out and I’ve been patient and I let it happen and I waited but now there’s more to this mystery and I can’t do it again and it’s not fair for you to put me in that situation again. So forgive me if I’m sounding a little pathetic.”

“Fair? My uncle is still out there, still alive,” he replies.

“You never even knew him,” I roll my eyes.

“He’s family,” he roars.

Something about Jameson was that he was loyal to the bone when it came to family.

I shrug, “so was your grandfather and look how he treated you.”

“Don’t speak a word against him,” he says, his voice low, warning, dangerous

“You were never good enough for him and that killed you,” I reply, my voice failing to stay stable, “he broke you and I helped fix you and now we’re going back around the same cycle. Why are you still letting him continue to break you?”

“I said don’t speak a WORD against him!” he tells, his voice powerful

You could cry. You feel like it. But you don’t. For some reason you’re past tears now.

“But when you did it was okay?” I scream back, “when you’d come to your bedroom a wreck and shit talk him, who listened to you then huh? Don’t throw this all back in my face now, don’t you fucking dare.”

“I’m not trying to-“

“Well you are,” you cut him off,

He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head, “look I don’t know what the hell you’re on this afternoon but-“

“What the hell I’m on?” you scoff.

His face softens and so does his tone, “all this arguing we’re doing, it’s not us,” he says, “it never has been so are we really going to carry on this stupid fight?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask Avery?” you ask, it’s petty but you didn’t feel like being mature in this moment

“This keeps circling back to her,” he sighs with an eye roll.

“You have spent the entirety of the morning with her,” I stated “again.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he says.

“Seriously?” I ask, my jaw hanging slack.

“What?”

“You know what, it doesn’t even matter,” you shake your head and begin to walk out.

“Sweetheart,” he says, lunging forwards to grab your arm. You spin around and can see the desperation seeping from his eyes.

“I’m going out,” you tell him harshly,

“Where?” he asks immediately.

“For a walk,” you shrug, going to turn again. But he holds you firmly in his grip.

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

“No, I need headspace right now,” you snap coldly.

“Okay, that’s fine,” he nods, eyes wide with understanding. You hated that he was being so nice when you were supposed to be mad at him, it wasn’t fair, “but at least take a bodyguard with you.”

“No,” you immediately say.

“Yes,” he argues back.

“I’m not one of you, Jameson,” you quip. You can see in his face that pains him but you’re too furious to care, “people aren’t coming for me, I’m not taking a bodyguard.”

“Look I’m sorry about before but-“

“It’s not about you Jameson,” you yell, “I just need a walk.”

“Okay, but I’m still sorry and please baby, take a bodyguard with you,” he begs.

“I’m not going to,” you reply, “I need to be alone.”

“Fine, okay then,” he shrugs, pretending not to care, “yeah fine, go have fun in nature or something.”

“I will,” you snap, charging out, slamming the door behind you.

***

You start walking with no intention of going anywhere. In a headspace of anger, your pace is swift and dominant. You needed air, you needed a clear head, you needed to get away. Bringing a bodyguard felt claustrophobic. You didn’t want another person breathing down your neck. You just needed to be alone for a while. A million and one thoughts swarm your mind. He probably complained about you to Avery, you think, kicking a rock violently. He’s probably with her right now, telling her what an annoying, selfish, jealous person you are and she’s probably comforting him. The thought of it makes your stomach squeeze.

It was getting darker and colder by the second. In your rage you’d forgotten to bring a hoodie and now you’re absolutely freezing. The street lights flicker on and you suddenly realise you have no idea where you are. You’re cold, alone, lost and a little hungry. You pray it doesn’t start to rain. You get out your phone quickly to look on google maps, but two red words flash up: no connection. Great. Just when you thought today couldn’t get any worse. You wish you hadn’t left the house now, but didn’t know which way to turn to walk back. You walk around the corner of a tall white building, hoping to see a signpost nearby.

That’s when you notice the footsteps of someone behind you. You turn absentmindedly to see a stranger dressed in all black clothing. You couldn’t properly see their face or decipher whether they were a man or woman. Feeling a little sceptical, you choose to cross to the other side of the road, trying to shake or anxious feelings that were creeping in. You spin the ring on your finger, trying to breathe in and out slowly. You side glance at the figure a few times to see that they’re still on the opposite side of the road. You exhale and turn the corner, feeling stupid for getting so het up over nothing.

You hear more footsteps and paranoid you look behind. You feel sick. The mystery stranger is back. Panic seizes your throat and you walk a little faster, noting their feet also pick up the pace. You turn a second corner. So do they. A thousand and one questions flashed up in your mind. What did they want? Why were they following you? And more importantly how long had they been following you for? You’re breathing heavily, maybe too heavily. You don’t want them to know you’re scared.

You fumble to reach your phone, hurriedly finding your contacts. You click Jameson’s name but the call fails. Your eyes flick to your internet, still none. You try again, the cycle repeats. Tears well up in your eyes. You were hopeless, helpless and frightened to death. You begin to fiddle anxiously with your necklace trying to work out what to do next, but your mind was blank. You couldn’t think. The person was a good few meters behind you now. A silent tear of rolls down your cheek as you carry on walking forwards, pretending you’re going somewhere in hope the follower might get bored a leave. They did not. You bite back and audible sob and notice one bar lights up in the top right hand corner of your phone screen. You have one bar of internet and you’ve never felt more relieved. Your finger rushes to hit the call button. One ring and he picks up. It’s a miracle.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, a sense of relief and a smile in his voice.

“Jamie,” you say, your voice more panicked than you’d intended.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice is immediate and assertive but thick with anxiety. He can sense there’s something wrong, he knows.

“Jamie there’s someone following me,” you hyperventilate, the sharp sudden breaths hurting your chest.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice shaky, “and I’m panicking.”

“Okay, don’t worry, just keep walking straight,” he instructs, “okay sweetheart?”

“Okay,” you murmur.

“Just breathe,” he soothes, “I’m tracking your location.”

You exhale unevenly and carry on walking.

“Are you near any buildings?” Jameson asks, strategically. You can tell he’s concentrated.

“There’s a housing complex and a few shops across the street,” you describe.

“Good,” he replies, “cross the road and go into one of the shops and stay in there.”

“Okay,” you answer, jogging across the road, taking note of anything that might help Jameson find you.

“What’s the name of the shop you’re going to go into?” he asks, “it might help me track you a little faster.”

You step back to read the cursive white letters, “Betty’s,” you reply, stepping in.

“That’s it?” he confirms.

“That’s it,” you say, carefully stepping inside, seeing the follower cross the road in the refection of the shop window.

Your heart thuds in your chest as the little bell rings to announce your entrance in the shop. It was one of those little knick-knack type shops, small but compact. You pretend to admire a china tea set.

“Are you inside?” Jameson asks, his voice washing some sort of comfort over you.

“Yes,” you say quickly, subconsciously tracing the tablecloth deign with your index finger.

“Have they followed you inside?” he asks.

“No,” you reply, though you haven’t looked up, the shop bell definitely has not rung since your arrival. You are the only customer in this shop. You look up and see them standing outside, you catch their eye and fear flicker through you as you quickly turn away, jolts of sheer nauseating panic runs up and down your abdomen, “Jamie they’re waiting outside, oh god Jameson they’re waiting outside, for me to come out, oh god.”

“Hey! Hey! You have the stay calm,” he says sharply but kindly, “as long as you’re in there you’re safe and I’m on my way now.”

“You found where I am?” you breathe, sounding too much like a child than you care to admit.

“I’m getting into the car as we speak,” he replies.

He’s coming. You tell yourself. You’re going to be okay. You say in your head.

“Stay on the line with me,” you blurt out, “please.”

“Of course baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he says, the concern in his voice made you yearn to be in his arms.

The other end of the phone goes silent except for the sound of a car engine, gently groaning in motion. You try to distract yourself by admiring the little collection of ceramic mouse figurines and try to give all of them a name. That’s when you catch the stranger in your peripheral.

“Jameson I’m scared,” you bite the inside of your cheek, “I’m really scared.”

“I’m coming, just hang in there okay,” he comforts “breathe for me.”

“Jameson,” you exhale, your hands becoming increasingly more restless.

“Hey, sweetheart, take a breath with me okay?” he says, “together?”

“Together,” you nod, despite the fact that he can’t see you, but somewhere deep down you know he knows you’re nodding.

“In through your nose and out through your mouth, okay?” he replies.

I’m through your nose and out through your mouth. You repeat the motion over and over with him over the phone, until you’re bored.

“I’m nearly there,” he mentions after a while.

“You promise?” you say, your breath hitching.

“I promise, just stay where you are,” he says calmly.

“Okay,” you reply.

“Sorry honey we close at 11:00,” comes a voice.

It makes you jump at first, as you yelp in surprise at the old woman beside you. Where had she appeared from? You drop your phone and it crashes to the floor. You realise for the first time how tightly you’d had it pressed to the side of your face as the cold air rushes to that spot and you feel the sticky sweat. You scramble to pick up your phone.

“I’m fine,” you reassure Jameson quickly, before turning the the woman, “sorry, would I be able to stay a few more minutes?”

She glances disapprovingly at you and then her watch, “I don’t think so.”

“It won’t be long, I promise,” you rush.

“I’m sorry but I have to lock up now,” she shakes her head and waves the keys between her fingers.

“Just until my boyfriend gets here,” you try again, desperation slicing through your tone.

“You’re not purchasing anything and it’s closing hours,” she replied sternly, “I need to lock up.”

“Please,” you beg.

“Store policy I’m afraid,” she shrugs flatly.

“I’ll but the whole damn place of you let me stay,” you exclaim, not really sure why the sentence left your mouth but it was too late to take it back now.

“This place isn’t for sale,” she says sourly with pursed wrinkled lips.

“Not literally,” you sigh, “look I’ll make a purchase.”

“No purchases after 11:00,” she responds, blunt as a baseball bat.

“But you just said-“

“We’re closed,” she snaps.

“Please just let me stay for five minutes,” you ask, hoping by some miracle she’ll agree.

“I really can’t do that,” she sighs, with an almost apologetic look on her face “I’m sorry.”

“Two minutes?” you try to compromise.

She stares through you, “I’m going to call the police.”

“There’s someone out there following me outside,” you burst, “so please, if you’re going to call the police on anyone, do it on them.”

The woman gently cocks her head to see the mysterious figure outside the window, her eyes widen by the tiniest fraction and she stares back at you. You wonder what she’s thinking. She chews her lip thoughtfully for a while and then finally replied, “there’s a back way out, I can take you through to there.”

“Thank you,” you exhale in relief.

She walks hurriedly walks away and you follow her, ending up at the very back of the shop. It couldn’t be seen from the window, but how long would it take for the follower to realise? Not long enough, you pray, hoping Jameson would arrive in time. There is a small green door with a lacy translucent curtain across the window.

“Here,” she nods towards it, “get home safe.”

“Thanks,” you say gratefully.

You almost trip out of the back door but managed to stabilise yourself, the old woman slams to door and it nearly clips your heals. You quickly press your phone back to your ear, realising Jameson is still on the line.

“Jamie?” you say.

“I’m still here,” he replies, reading your mind, “Betty’s a bitch.”

You choke on your own spittle, “what?”

“Betty,” he states as if it’s obvious.

“Betty?” you question, hoping he’ll elaborate.

“Well I assume it’s her name,” he says, you could practically hear him shrug, “the woman who just kicked you out of her shop.”

“Oh, you heard all of that?” you say.

“I did,” he confirms, “but I’m two minutes away now.”

“Two minutes?” you check, hope returning your voice.

“Yeah,” he confirms gently.

“I’m still at the back,” you mention, “but I’ll walk to the front to meet you.”

“Okay,” he replies, “I’m so close sweetheart, don’t worry.”

“Okay I-“

All the air is knocked from your lungs as you turn the corner and someone grabs your shoulders and it’s so sudden you forget to scream. Fear runs cold and thick through your veins. You can’t move. The grip is strong and foreign, their hands are callous and your arms ache the longer you’re in their hold. Paralysed, you fail to struggle free. It all happens in a blur. You feel yourself being thrown to the side and you land on the pavement with a hard thump after rolling over your ankle. Pain seizes through it and you bite back a yelp. You look up, struggling to your feet and see Jameson has arrived.

Jameson. Jameson. Jameson.

He’s fighting the mysterious follower who you can now see is man. He’s a few inches taller than Jameson and has much more muscle but Jameson is quicker, more agile. You wish you could help him but the searing agony deriving from your ankle would’ve only made him slower. So you’re now just watching. It’s a tête-a-tête of frantic hits and blocks, all scarily aggressive. The look in Jameson’s eyes is not one you recognise, it’s like the green had been frosted over with ice. The follower lunges at him suddenly and an audible gasp escapes your lips. He has Jameson in a headlock. You stumble forwards, ready to attack him from behind when Jameson twists the man’s arms in an awkward direction, leaving him vulnerable. In the split second Jameson knees him in the stomach and begins to punch him repeatedly.

Jameson’s jaw is clenched, his hair is ragged and wild. A flow of crimson red liquid falls from one nostril and from a new wound just above his eyebrow. His eyes are fierce and gleaming, like a predator on its prey. You’re not sure you know who this man is, he’s not Jameson, he’s a mutation, a weapon, a unrecognisable being.

“Jamie,” you murmur, your voice shaking. You can’t stop yourself, you’re too scared.

He can’t hear properly, he doesn’t even acknowledge you. He carries on punching and punching but the follower seems to be cold out.

“Jameson stop! You’re scaring me!” you yell, fear in your throat but fire in your belly.

He looks up and he freezes, all but his hands that are shaking from the adrelenline rush. He looks down at his bloodied knuckles to the limp figure on ground, then back to me again. He can see the fright in my features that I’m so desperately trying to conceal.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says, “it’s okay, let’s go home.”

“Is he dead?” you say, the words so much harsher than you intended.

“No,” he shakes his head gently, “just knocked out, I promise.”

“I-“ you can’t finish the sentence.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs tentatively, wrapping an arm around you to still your trembling torso.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to sound strong, but synthetic strength only made you sound weaker.

“You’re not fine,” he shakes his head.

“Let’s just get out of here,” you sigh, then look at him with sparkling eyes, “please?”

“Of course,” he says, concern bleeding across his features.

You begin to walk but have to bite your lip as pain rips through your ankle with weight pressing down on it.

“What wrong?” Jameson asks, his reaction instant and lightning fast.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, trying to carry on without displaying the pain.

But he’s too vigilant for his own good, “are you hurt?”

“No, it’s fine,” you reply, in denial, “I’m fine.”

You’ve found that things are easier to believe if you say them out loud. Unfortunately not in this case.

“Where?” he asks, stopping still, pressing gently down your arms to check for tentative pressure points.

You pull away, “Jamie I’m-“

“Where?” he asks firmly, giving me that look.

“I just rolled over my ankle,” you sigh, “it’s not a big deal.”

“Do you want me to carry you?” he offers.

“No,” you say quickly, too quickly.

The truth was, you did want to be carried. The thought of being in his protective arms, pressed up against his chest was very appealing. But just like he could see your winces and hear your sharp breaths in, you notice his. The fight hadn’t been easy on him, no matter how stubbornly he tries to hide it.

“Just support me and I’ll support you,” you reply.

“I don’t need support,” he says.

You stare at him, “you don’t have to be the knight in shining armour with me, I thought you’d stopped that.”

You’d made a pact at the start of your relationship that Jameson couldn’t play that role. You were there for each other, it wasn’t one or the other.

“Fine,” he grits through his teeth, “we’ll support each other.”

You both walk, labouring, limping and leaning on one another. In the silence of it all you have time to think about all that had happened, a chances you hadn’t previously had with your mind always preoccupied on something else. A tidal wave of guilt almost drowns you.

“I’m sorry,” you burst out suddenly, feeling all of a sudden emotional, as tears run down your face.

You didn’t realise how much yours been keeping it in, your fear, your pain, your guilt, your sorrow.

“Hey, shhhh,” he soothes, caressing your cheek, “shhh shh stop that now, hey, hey.”

“I shouldn’t have left,” you shake your head, “I shouldn’t have got so angry and walked so far alone and it was dark-“

“Y/n, breathe,” Jameson murmurs, “I’m not angry, it’s not your fault, I’m just glad you’re safe now, okay? I would never let him hurt you, you know that right?”

You nod.

“Let’s get to the car and then we can go home, okay?” he suggests softly.

“Okay,” you murmur in response.

He wraps his arm back around your shoulders and holds your hand with the other, steering you towards his car. He walks around to your door, looking over his shoulder cautiously, making sure you are in and safe before he thinks of himself. You’ve never felt safer in a car, your back pressed up against the seat. Your leg bobs up and down uncontrollably, even when your try to stop it. Seems the adrenaline had gotten to you more than you’d thought.

Jameson is swift to get into the driver’s seat and start the car. He silently places his hand on your upper thigh to still the shaking. The warmth of his familiar touch relaxes some of the built up worry in your chest. One knot has been untied from the incomprehensible ball.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod numbly. You didn’t reply with words in fear that you’d spill out the truth. Lying to Jameson was a challenge.

“Stupid question,” he mumbles, “of course you’re not.”

“I think I’m still trying to process what just happened,” you murmur, not a complete lie. You’d only processed parts.

“Okay, that’s fine, take as long as you need,” he says reassuringly, “I’m here if you want to talk.”

You nod again. Then take a breath.

“I’m sorry,” you say, choked up with emotion, “I’m sorry for fighting, I don’t know why I get so annoyed it’s just-“

“It doesn’t matter, all that matters is that you’re safe,” he tells you gently.

“Safe,” you repeat, the word has an odd texture on your tongue.

“You are safe,” Jameson replies firmly.

“I am safe,” you repeat, believing it a little more.

***

The two of you had gotten back to Hawthorne House late. No one was around so no questions were asked. But whilst you showered and changed Jameson insisted on getting the security team on it and you didn’t object. You join Jameson in your shared room after your shower, he’s already waiting with open arms. You clamber into the bed and fall onto his chest. The smell of him indescribably addictive. He wraps his arms around your torso and you wince, tenderness spreading across the tops of your arms and upper back.

“What hurts baby?” he asks, eyebrows knotted with worry.

“Nothing,” you reply, shrugging the pain off.

He looks at you, ��you don’t have to lie to me.”

You’re silent for a few beats but then finally murmur, “my arms.”

“Let me see,” he says.

“It’s okay-“

“Let me see,” he whispers, sending a hot shiver down your spine. 

You slowly slip of your jumper and expose the rounded bruises from the follower’s fingers. You’d discovered them moments ago in the bathroom, it must’ve been from where he’d grabbed you. You can’t see Jameson’s face but judging by the thick blanket of tense air that had enveloped your surroundings, you have a good idea of what he’s thinking.

“He did this?” he asks, tracing every bruise so delicately it nearly tickles.

“Jamie he grabbed me,” you explain.

“I’ll kill him for laying a finger on you,” he spits, a foreign violence in his tone you weren’t sure you liked.

“Don’t say that,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“What?” he looks at you in wild disbelief.

“Talk of killing him,” you close your eyes, “you’re not a murderer.”

He opens his mouth.

“Don’t you dare argue with me,” you snap, a raw intensity in your voice. You struggle to recall where you found it.

Silence you like a car hits roadkill. Swiftly and out of nowhere with a sickening thud.

“You know you scared me back there,” you murmur, meeting his eyes shyly.

“Me?”

“When you were punching him…” you trail off, “you looked so angry.”

“I was angry” he retorts, “no one should do that, especially not to you. Never to you.”

“Yeah but I really thought you might…” you stop yourself.

“I might what?” he urges you to continue.

“I don’t know,” you say trying to brush it off, “it doesn’t matter.”

“No it does,” he replies, “you thought I might kill him right?”

“It just wasn’t you punching that guys, it wasn’t my Jameson,” you murmur.

“Your Jameson doesn’t protect you,” he yells and you flinch slightly.

You don’t meet his eye, “no, not like that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just…” he sighs, “I never would’ve forgiven myself if something had happened to you.”

“It would’ve been my fault for storming off like that, god I’m so stupid,” emotion rises thick in your throat.

“Hey, stop beating yourself up about this,” Jameson says, “it was my fault in the first place.”

“No it wasn’t-“

“Yes it was, let’s just forget about this okay,” he insists.

“But what if he comes back? What if he knows where I am? What did he want with me Jamie? What if-“

“It’s all going to be sorted okay, we have so many staff on it right this second,” he says tracing the outlines of your knuckles, “you just need to breathe.”

“I am breathing,” you grit through your teeth.

“What’s worrying you then?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you reply, biting back a sob.

He senses the emotion, “come here.”

You practically collapse into his arms, keeping your tears at bay just barely. There’s something about being in his arms, against the warmth of his body that made the bad things go quiet for a second, that stopped the overwhelming voices in your head, that silences your thudding heart. But even now, things were unusually playing on your mind, despite the comfort.

“I don’t know Jamie,” you murmur into his chest, “I’m scared and exhausted and anxious and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Let me help you,” he whisper, gently running his fingers through your hair.

“I don’t think you can,” you mumble, your eyes grappling to stay open.

“I will find a way,” he says, you almost laugh at his stubbornness.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you reply, your voice breaking, “I don’t know anything bad to happen.”

“You’re not going to lose me and I won’t let anything bad happen,” Jameson kisses the top of your head, “I promise.”

“I don’t feel safe,” you admit.

“What’s making you feel unsafe baby?” he asks, aching concern in his voice.

“Before today I’d never even imagined potentially being kidnapped and it just happened today,” you ramble, “and that means there’s so many other things that I couldn’t ever have imagine that might happen.”

“If we spend our whole lives in fear of what might happen we’d forget to live,” Jameson says.

You meet his emerald eyes and try not to melt, “I’m scared.”

“There’s no need to be,” he comforts, “I’m here.”

“You promise?”

“Always,” he says. His voice is so sure, so strong. It almost makes you believe.

“And you’re not going anywhere?”

“Not anywhere without you,” he grins lopsidedly, the real Jameson shining through making your cheeks tint a pale pink.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, the residing guilt flowing back in.

“If you apologise one more time I’m going to do a lyrical dance routine to ‘hot stuff’ only dressed in sequinned hot pants and a top hat,” he says.

“I think I’d quite like to see that,” you can’t help but smile, “I should apologise more often.”

He chuckles softly and kisses the top of your head. You nuzzle into the nape of his neck and allow one tear to slip from the under your mask. Just one.

“I’ve got you baby and I’m not letting go,” Jameson whispers.

“Please don’t let me go,” you murmur, sounding as small as a child.

“I’m not, never ever,” he murmurs, kissing your nose, then cheeks and then a soft kiss on your lips.

You smile, a fluttery feeling in your chest and you kiss him back. His hands snake around your waist, the tentative touch making you tingle a little. You wish you could just focus on Jameson and nothing else but the problem was the scene kept replaying in your head. The man grabbing your shoulders, the bruises left on your skin, the smell of his cologne in your hair. He was everywhere.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s okay,” Jameson soothes, “you’re safe now.”

It’s only then you notice how your entire body is shaking, your bones rattling together. You try to stop but you can’t. He brings you into deeper his arms and holds your quivering limbs together. You wonder if he let go you’d fall apart all together.

***

You didn’t go to school the next day, instead you stayed curled up in Jameson’s arms as he gently traced spirals across your back with his index finger.

You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so in love.

***

Thursday rolls around far too quickly and you know you have to go back. Word about the stalker had been kept quiet but you know you couldn’t stay under your duvet forever. No matter how badly you wanted to. So you wake up early and take your time getting ready. Jameson sleeps like the dead all the way through it, even when you blow dry your hair. You meet Xander who is already at breakfast, eating muffins. You’d promised the week before you’d come and observe his biology project for him, so he could have a second opinion and you didn’t want to break that promise.

“You know you really didn’t have to come,” he says, still chewing, “after you know…”

“I want to Xand, really,” you say, “I can’t avoid it forever and I want to see your project.”

“If you’re sure?” he checks, with an eyebrow raise.

“I’m sure,” you nod, “I swear.”

“Well then, have a muffin or two and then we’ll be on our way,” he grins, handing me one from the plate in the centre.

“Roger that sir,” you smile back, saluting him as you take a bite.

***

School was difficult that day, not the content, just the energy. The problem was you had none. And it was one of those long modified timetable days where your first break of the day was lunch and it wasn’t even until 2:00pm. That in itself was a mood killer. On top of that you couldn’t get the follower out of your head. The events played on some sort of endless loop in your head. You wonder who it might be, why they might have been following you of all people. It was known you were dating Jameson but not that known. Apparently, according to Xander, Oren had been put on high alert and Alisa was working on finding their identity. That should have brought you solace. It didn’t.

But the more you thought about it the more your realised that part of you selfishly didn’t mind that it has happened too much because last night you’d felt more connected to Jameson than you had in forever. It had been a while since it had just been the two of you, no mysteries, no arguments, no Avery. Yesterday had solely been the two of you, all day. Just in the presence of one another but, at school, you hadn’t seen Jameson all morning, seen as you’d left for school early with Xander but he had sent you a string of text messages that you only see at first on your very late lunch break.

morning sweetheart

are you okay??

I know you left early with Xand but I’m still worried about you

text me for ANYTHING okay??

I love you xx

And then an hour later…

you still haven’t text back

are you okay??

I bribed the woman at the front desk for your schedule so you’re probably in class right now

unless you’re not!!

just answer me when you can okay

I love you

Then in the next hour…

ARE YOU OKAY!?

I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU IN THE HALLWAYS

PLEASE ANSWERRR!!!!

I love you ;)

You almost laugh at the cuteness of it all. You type a couple of messages in response incase he bribed the headteacher to let him use the announcement speaker to find you next.

I’m fine Jamie, don’t worry

late lunch break sorry I couldn’t text sooner

They bleep through one after the other, sending through.

meet you after school for our plans

You close your phone quickly and get to the next class, holding your books tightly to your chest. The next few periods better go fast.

***

They didn’t go fast. In fact every millisecond felt like an hour, the day seemed endless. You get out of class and don’t pass Jameson in any hallways yet again sk decide to go to your usual meeting spot after school. You send him a quick message.

waiting outside business studies

You wait for him by the curb. One minute passes, he’s been a minute late before, many times. So you figure it’s okay, leaning on the wall behind you. Five minutes go by next and most kids are leaving or have left the school premises. Maybe his class has run over, your brain suggests. Then it is ten minutes, barely anyone is walking out. The odd person, sure, but never Jameson. You begin to wonder where he might be. Detention? No, he always finds a way out of those. Basketball court? No, he doesn’t like to play with the other guys. Classroom? No, he wouldn’t spend longer than he had to in the school. You sigh, ten minutes isn’t that long after all. Maybe you’re overreacting. Still, you send him another text ‘hey, are you nearly here?’ Half an hour passes. That’s when you get really confused. He should definitely be here by now. Slowly you wonder down several hallways, checking your phone for any messages, calls or voicemails, but there are none. Few students are around and every time you look into a classroom Jameson isn’t there. You make your way back to your original spot, incase he turned up. Forty minutes pass and you try his phone for the last time, ringing him rather than just texting but it goes straight to voicemail. So you resort to calling Xander, hoping he’ll be able to help and ease the tightening knot of worry growing in your chest. There is only two rings.

“Hello y/n,” Xander’s cheerful voice says down the other end, “is there any reason you’re phoning the best Hawthorne on this fine afternoon?”

“Yeah, sorry Xand,” you reply, “but have you seen Jamie anywhere?”

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells me, “and I think I saw him come in earlier, I just presumed you were with him.”

Too many juxtaposed emotions hit you at once. Relief, he’s okay, he’s alive, he’s at home. Hurt, he left without you, abdomen or forgot the plans you had. Annoyance, he’d left without sparing you a second thought.

“No,” you mutter, “I wasn’t.”

“You sound annoyed,” Xander comments.

“I’m fine, sorry Xand,” you reply, putting some more life into your voice to wash away and tense notes, “it’s been a long day.”

“Don’t I know it,” he sighs, “but hey it’s the weekend now, fancy a game of strip bowling when you get back?”

Strip bowling was one of your favourites, mostly because you were very good at it and barely had to strip and also because Jameson usually ended up in his underwear. Xander must’ve sensed the false happiness in your voice and suggested it to be nice.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you say, trying to let him down gently. You did appreciate the gesture, but the thought of playing stop bowling right now did not match the mood.

“Yeesh your day was that bad huh?” he asks softly, playing it off as jokey.

“I’ll be okay,” you reassure him quietly.

“I’m here you know,” he reminds you.

“Thanks Xander,” you reply, but don’t elaborate. You didn’t feel like talking right now.

“Talk to Jamie, he’ll know how to make you feel better,” he suggests sweetly.

You smile through your pain, “yeah, I’ll give it a go.”

You hang up and exhale slowly, he doesn’t know that Jameson is your problem.

***

You get back to Hawthorne house about twenty minutes later. It sounds relatively empty, though it always does, seen as there were so many possible places for people to be. You wander through the entrance, trying to think where Jameson might be. You hear footsteps approaching and spin around to see a blonde in a suit. Wrong brother.

“Have you seen Jameson?” you ask him before he can greet you.

“He was upstairs earlier, with Avery,” Grayson replies.

All the air is knocked from your stomach, “Avery?”

“You didn’t know?” his expression flashed for a fraction of a second into something between guilt and shame before it is composed.

“No…” you trail off.

“Oh,” he replies, with an unreadable expression back on.

“Well thanks anyway,” you say with a synthetic smile.

You walk away quickly before he can respond, looking up with glossy eyes. You ascend the stairs quickly and don’t look back. You feel you need to see for yourself did this is true. But where would he take Avery? You could only hope it wasn’t the roof where the two of you stargazed, that would hurt like hell. You trail down a hallway where voices are coming from and stumble upon a door that is ajar. Inside, Jameson talking to Avery. Your stomach rolls uncomfortably. He’s positioned barely a foot a way and he’s laughing. He looks so beautiful when he laughs, but now it’s ugly. It’s like biting into something sweet and getting a sour taste. It’s not the fact that she made him laugh, it’s the fact he’s laughing like he laughs when he’s with you. That’s the thing that cuts deep. The way his eyes are sparkling and his smile is wide and carefree, you thought he reserved those kind of smiles only for you.

Clearly not.

You turn your back on the scene and rush to your bedroom. You swing the door open forcefully and then slam it shut behind you. So he’d ditched your plans for her. Great. You sigh as you collapse down on your bed feeling an unwelcome tightness squeezing across your chest. Tears well up in your eyes. You didn’t like to cry, you rarely ever did. But right now, you couldn’t do anything about it. The tears just flowed down your cheeks and your whole body shook with each sob. Your heart physically ached, something you hadn’t thought was possible until this moment. A searingly mournful agony rippling through the left side your the chest. You felt so vulnerable, so exposed. You didn’t stop crying the blanket was soaked through, weighted with wet emotion and your throat was so raw it was numb.

***

You binge movies for the rest of the evening, the only feeling left in your system was anger, you’d cried all the sadness out. You felt so done with feeling shit and binging movies gave you that outlet of doing nothing, thinking nothing and feeling nothing. Exhaustion is beginning to win the ongoing battle between the two of you when you hear soft footsteps approaching. Jameson had been practically out of your mind the whole evening, Disney movies are a good distraction, but that is until he walks in. You hear as the door handle turns and he enters. Your eyes flicker to the clock, it’s just gone midnight.

“Hey sweetheart,” he murmurs, taking his suit jacket off and undoing his top button, “you’re up late.”

“What do you want?” you ask, eyes glued to Elsa’s performance of ‘let it go’ on the tv screen.

He immediately notices something is off and walks over, “woah, hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh so now you care?” you scoff, looking him dead in the eye.

“What did I do?” he asks quickly, cluelessly.

“You are unbelievable,” you exclaim, switching the movie off before hurling the control across the room.

Jameson stares in disbelief, “why are you so pissed off?”

“You don’t know why I’m annoyed?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“No…” he replies hesitantly, like he’s treading on egg shells.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,”

“Oh my god,” you laugh bitterly, shaking your head, “tell me you’re joking, please.”

“I’m not joking,” he says, the desperation and worry evident in his tone.

“Do you even know what we were supposed to do today?” you ask with a withered look.

A moment of realisation strikes and you notice as his eyes widen and his jaw drops a little.

“Shit. I’m sorry, I forgot,” he says, actually looking guilty. You almost feel sorry for him.

“Yeah I know,” you deadpan, folding your arms across your chest.

“There’s just been a lot going on lately and with the following and then I was days behind on the thing with Toby and-“

“Am I some sort of burden,” you retort, eyebrows raised.

“What? No! I never said that,” he exclaims, his voice raised.

“Okay,” you shrug, nonchalantly. The small display of passive aggression would get under his skin, prickling it like an unscratchable itch.

“Last time we argued it ended with you being followed, I don’t want you in that situation again,” he says, his voice dominant and definitive.

“You’re making this about you!” you yell, rage blinding your vision, “what you want, for me!”

“Oh so you want to be followed, stalked?” he asks, with a forced cruel laugh.

“That’s not what I said,” you snap, eyes narrowed.

“Sounds like it,” he bites back, the bitterness in his voice hurting you far more than you cared to admit.

You don’t say anything for a long while but eventually cut through the long silence, “I even text you about it,” you say quietly.

“What?” he replies, head cocked to the side, confused.

“About tonight,” you say, raising your hands into the air with an eye roll.

“No you didn’t!” he yells back, defensively.

“Yes I did,” you scream.

“Look, this is the last message I got,” he exclaims, shoving his phone’s bright screen into your face.

‘late lunch break sorry I couldn’t text sooner’

You stare at the message and then quickly open your phone to double check. Your message hadn’t gone through, you look up glaring at him. You were mad he didn’t remember, mad the message never went through and just mad in general.

“It didn’t go through, I couldn’t help it,” he defends.

“You still forgot,” you press on, getting mor annoyed by the second, “I shouldn’t have to remind you that you have plans with your girlfriend.”

“Look, I’m really sorry,” he replies and you can see the meaning in his face, “we’ll reschedule.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore,” you tell him nonchalantly. You know you’re being petty, but you can’t help it.

“Oh common y/n,” he says.

“No I don’t,” you shrug. He’d messed it up, that opportunity was passed now.

“Look I just needed to-“

“What you needed to do was stick to your word, what you needed to do was remember when you had things plans, what you needed to do was think before you acted,” you say in a low voice, interrupting him, “but you did none of that.”

“I can’t have a life now?” he scoffs, growing irritated, “that’s not you.”

“What’s not me?” you scowl.

“This, right now,” he says, “you’re being so controlling!”

You raise your eyebrows, almost laughing, “controlling? You started this argument!”

“No I didn’t!” he argues.

“You know what, if you didn’t want to have it out then you shouldn’t have asked why I was angry,” you roll your eyes, “so just forget about it.”

“Oh would you STOP doing that,” he yells.

“What?”

“The whole ‘forget about it’ thing, it’s so fucking annoying,” he retorts, anger creeping up in his tone.

“You know what else is annoying?” you ask him, “when your boyfriend is hanging out constantly with some random girl who inherited all his grandfather’s money, that’s really fucking annoying.”

He’s silent. Nothing to say for once. No witty reply, no deflection, nothing. His face is impossible to read, blank.

“Hang on, that’s not quite the right word,” you continue, “what about aggravating, demoralising, hurtful-“

“You know I never would’ve pinned you as a jealous possessive girlfriend,” he shakes his head, with a cruel chuckle.

“I’m not!” you snap, “but you lied Jameson, why did you feel the need to lie!?”

“Lie?”

“You told me a few days ago you’d climbed a wall and if I hadn’t known any better I would’ve believed you,” you say, “but you weren’t climbing a wall, you were with Avery.”

“This,” he says exasperatedly, “this is exactly the reason I lied.”

“What?” you ask.

“This overreaction,” he explains, making some weird hand gesture.

“I’m overreacting?” you scoff, as your eyebrows shoot to your forehead.

“Completely,” he exclaims.

“So let me just get this straight,” you begin, “you’d have never pinned me as a jealous possessive girlfriend but you lied to me about ditching our plans to spend time with another girl because you were worried about an overreaction? Right, that makes sense.”

“I’m sorry,” he exhales, “I’m sorry.”

“No you can’t just say sorry and then think it’s all going to be okay,” you shake your head, “sorry is just a stupid word, it means nothing.”

“I didn’t mean to say what I said just now and I am sorry that I hurt you,” Jameson says desperately, “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s not just that! You blew off our plans for her,” you yell with a sob, “so yeah that kind of fucking hurts.”

“Sweetheart I didn’t mean to-“

“Yeah well you did,” you laugh bitterly, aggressively wiping away your tears, “and I’m crying over it which is just stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he tells you gently.

“Yes it is stupid Jameson,” you snap, the tears only flowing thicker and faster, “I feel like an idiot.”

“You shouldn’t,” he insists.

“Well I do, I’m such an idiot. I’m an idiot for fighting with you, I’m an idiot for getting myself followed, I’m an idiot for thinking that someone could actually love me, I’m an idiot for not seeing the signs sooner and I’m an idiot for crying over it all now,” you snivel, roughly scrubbing your tear-stained cheeks.

“Woah, hey,” he says, “sweetheart I love you. Just you.”

“Well it doesn’t feel like it lately,” you say, choking back a sob desperate to leave your throat.

His face softens, “sweetheart…”

He reaches out to touch me but you flinch away. His gentle touch is only a reminder of the good person he is and how much you love him for it. And you can’t afford to fall for it, not again, the pain was too much.

“You’re hurting me Jamie,” you say, your voice breaking as you jab a finger to your heart, “this is hurting me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, as his eyes mellow.

“If you want to be with her I’d rather you just tell me,” you whimper, “it would save me the pain of all this back and forth and sneaking around and finding out. Just tell me straight.”

“I don’t want to be with Avery,” he says, “I never have.”

“You don’t look at me how you look at her,” you say bitterly, getting it off of your chest.

“You’re right I don’t,” he agrees. Your heart plummets, here it comes, the confession, the break up, the empty sorrys and eyes filled with tears. “I don’t look at you like I look at her, because I look at her like any other person on this planet, but when I look at you I’m looking at my world. And I’d sure as hell hope that differs from the look that I gave to everyone else.”

A wave of emotion coats your skin, soaking you through. His world. The words repeat over and over and over until you feel delirious.

“Do you mean that? Do you really mean that?” you whisper.

“Of course I do,” he sighs, “don’t you understand? I love you, it’s always been you, it will never not be you! You’re my person, you’re my other half, I was supposed to meet you and fall in love with you. You give me purpose and passion and so much more. When you called me the other night after our fight I’ve never been more frightened in my life, I was freaking out over here. I’ve never felt so panicked, so sick with the thought of someone being hurt. I’m in so love with you that I can’t even explain it and I can’t believe I led you to doubt it. Avery is a friend, I promise, she means nothing to me compared to you, trust me. How can I prove that to you?”

“I don’t know Jameson,” you shout, your head aching from this endless circle of arguments.

“Then marry me!” he yells, then his voice softens, “marry me.”

You freeze, every muscle in your body suddenly falling into a state of paralysis, “what?”

“You heard me,” he says, his expression too serious.

“Jameson,” you murmur, barely getting his name out.

“Marry me.”

a/n: I’m a sucker for fat dramatic impulse decisions (it’s a problem, you may have gathered from my more recent fics) SOZ GUYS 😘😘 anywayyysss the time frame is roughly (and I mean very ROUGHLY) based around chapters 11-13 of the Hawthorne brothers incase you were wondering

thanks for the req anon, so sorry again for the wait, hope you enjoyed the read 🤍🤍 if you made it to the end and didn’t DNF halfway through, well done!! can you guys tell I got way too carried away, this fic was so all over the place but I posted it anyway bc yolo

there will be no part 2!! sorry!! I really need a break from reqs… you decide how you answer 🤭🤭

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[ringsreforged]

Natalie's *deep* Haladriel thoughts - BEWARE

Pau - When you read this later, let me know if you want me to move it to my personal account, yeah? If it even still exists...

I’m not really sure what this post is going to end up being. A defence of the show and the separation? In part! A critique of the show based off leak spoilers and my own gut feeling? For sure! A desperate ramble in an attempt to get my head in order? Absolutely!

I will say before we dive in that I’m absolutely a Haladriel shipper, but the way I ship isn’t always in line with fandom. I ship what I see as part of the narrative because it’s the narrative, and everything else is a bonus. I make this distinction because I think this is why I’m so okay with a lack of scenes when some others are not, and I don’t want to come across preachy. I don't think I'm in any way superior for this by the way. In fact, I wish I could be more *normal*!!!!

If you came to this show for Haladriel alone, and simply want to see them share scenes week to week – that’s your prerogative. I’m not trying to say you shouldn’t feel that way. What I might try to say is that I don’t think that makes the shows bad or suggests that the writers have baited with this relationship. I think that’s ultimately what I find frustrating…

But anyway, let’s get into whatever this is. A reflection on expectations, a five-season arc, and those STUPID spoiler leaks…

AND THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. STAY AWAY. HISS.

Alright, so this post is mostly brought to you by a sinking feeling I have that the leak spoilers are real. Because everything in that episode 7 promo matches up.

STOP READING if you don’t want to know the spoilers. And honestly? STOP READING IF YOU THINK YOU WANT TO KNOW because living with this knowledge has truly made this season less enjoyable for me (credit to it, then, because I still think it’s incredible). IF I’M MAKING YOU PANIC, STILL STOP READING because there very much is a world where these spoilers aren’t that bad in context…but I prefer to keep my expectations low…

Have you gone???

HAVE YOU GONE?????

SPOILER TALK

Okay.

So, the leak spoilers say that there is no kiss between Sauron and Galadriel (which, honestly, I have no great issue with – more to come on that later). Instead, the kiss is ELROND AND GALADRIEL, and I absolutely do take issue with this.

I can only hope and PRAY that it works in context, but I can’t get my head around it. And yet, the promo…it’s all falling into place. Elrond will be sent to discuss terms with the orcs before the battle. He’ll see Galadriel in chains, and he’ll ask for a moment to say goodbye. Adar will allow it because he’s a gent like that. This is where we get the chin touch with the thumb everyone speculated over and then…HE LEANS IN AND KISSES HER TO PUT A NEEDLE IN HER MOUTH? SO SHE CAN RELEASE HERSELF LATER??

To clarify, most of this is my spec, but THE KISS TO PASS HER A NEEDLE IS A REAL LEAKED SPOILER THAT NO LONGER SEEMS FAKE.

It's just…so convoluted and weird??? Does he store needles in his mouth like a squirrel? Why couldn’t he have slipped the needle into her hand??? WHY ARE YOU PUTTING ELROND’S LIPS ON GALADRIEL’S?

And look, maybe this spoiler IS still fake! But the details were so specific, and everything about the context seems to be accurate, so that feels like it would be a bonkers coincidence to me. Maybe when we actually see it play out, it will be fine.

But that does bring me back to the Haladriel of it all, just briefly. With my whole heart, I do not need them to kiss. After season 1, I didn’t think it would be possible, and I’m okay with that. But if you’re willing to let ELROND’S lips touch her, then MY GOD, you could have let Haladriel have ONE kiss where she’s trying to distract him or some shit. OOF.

My only relief is that it happens next week, so we can hopefully get it out of our systems and enjoy the finale.

That said, if these leaks are true then that also means the finale leaks are true. Now, I actually never wanted to see any of these spoilers (hence me making it VERY CLEAR what this post is about, because I wouldn’t inflict this stress on anyone unwillingly), so once I got the Elrond kiss details, I tried to get away without seeing much else. But there was some information on the big Haladriel scene.

I’m actually not going to detail it here, because – overall – I think we’ll still super enjoy it (just…lower those kiss expectations) AND because I don’t think all of it was spoiled. At the end of the day, there will be plenty to unpack, they’ll be back on our screens, it will be meaty, it will be layered. I’m really looking forward to it, in general.

My one fear is that it’s a season 1 finale repeat. And again, that won’t necessarily be bad per se, but it will feel a little bit underwhelming. Now, I’m not somebody that wants a true corruption arc for Galadriel. Normally, I love that shit, but not in this IP and not with this character. I want to see her explore her darkness, I want to see her face it and accept it, and I certainly want to see her be tempted…but I don’t expect or believe we'll ever actually get the whole ‘dark queen of Mordor’ vibe. Prisoner? Maybe. But not an actual dark queen.

That said…surely this scene doesn’t play out the EXACT same way as season 1? Sauron shows her a vision, she’s tempted, but ultimately resists and tells him she’ll never be at his side. I just don’t get why we’d repeat that, when there are so many other options that still keep Gal on the side of light.

I keep coming back to Galadriel’s line to Elrond in episode 4 – when it comes down to it, he has to choose to defeat Sauron and sacrifice her. I feel like if I hadn’t seen the leaks, then I would be 1000% expecting this to be the outcome. Especially with how Elrond’s theme comes in at the end of The Last Temptation track. He comes upon the confrontation but chooses to do the thing that will harm Sauron in the long run, rather than the thing that will save Galadriel.

I hope so badly for this, but I do worry that it will go the other way. What if it parallels Gandalfanger’s destiny/friend choice, and Elrond chooses her because THAT is how light wins or some shit? Not that this will be a bad scene by any stretch – I love their relationship and want to see their FRIENDSHIP (grrrr) reforged…but, again, the S1 finale! Sauron left her in the water, and Elrond was there to save her.

There’s also Galadriel’s conversation with Adar in the most recent episode – you succumbed, I resisted – but I guess this could go either way? He succumbed, so she resists. She insists she’s able to resist, so she succumbs. URGH. MY HEAD.

There MUST be a difference. SURELY??? Like, this season has been so well written…I just can’t comprehend the copy and paste.

Again, this isn’t anything close to a deal breaker for me. I firmly believe the showrunners when they say this relationship will remain the core of the show, but…hmmm. Okay, on that note…

DAMAGE CONTROL – MOVING ONTO THE DEFENCE OF THE SHOW

So, this is where I want to get into some stuff that I just…don’t agree with that I’ve seen being thrown at the show by shippers. And I’ll reiterate here that I’m truly not telling anybody what to feel. You can hate the show for its choices and feel how you feel. You can express yourself in your social media spaces, and if anybody doesn’t like it they can mute/block/unfollow. This chunk isn’t really aimed at you guys.

This is more for other people like me, because I’m cursed to be somebody that generally wants to just…enjoy things for what they are, while also being susceptible to the mood of others. I want to scroll tags and have a good time, rather than see negativity because it lowers my mood (this isn’t just ship related by the way, I really love this show overall…it’s just this tag that has been impacting my mood most this season). Regardless of the nonsense that might be in episode 7, and even if the finale scene is a repeat of S1, I’m still going to want to focus on enjoying what we get, enjoying the narrative being told etc. So, for those of you that have a little sinking feeling in your gut after the first half of this post, hopefully this second half will help.

This isn’t a ‘typical’ ship. This is a true ENEMIES ARE ENEMIES dynamic where the bad boy is ultimately going to be (is already) pure evil, and where our heroine is the embodiment of light. There are certain things that we just have to accept when it comes to loving this dynamic as part of the show – there will never be another season like season 1. Nor should there be?

Do I wish for s3 to have them in close proximity for at least a few episodes? Of course! Do I think it’s possible with or without finale spoilers? Absolutely (given how quickly characters travel from place to place on this show, they could end the season at opposite ends of Middle Earth and this would still be on the cards…). I’m also anticipating Season 4 as a good time for them to be in full MIND PALACE mode – where the rings are all ringing, but Galadriel hasn’t yet worked out how to shut him out yet. By season 5, there might just be one final scene before the final battle. But, again, I really do think there needs to be a little bit of acceptance of that. Or, at least, expectation of it.

Something I really want to push back against is this idea that Haladriel was baited or teased, but the writers don’t actually care for it. Honestly, that’s nonsense to me on a couple of levels.

First of all, almost EVERY dynamic this season has been reduced to a handful of scenes here and there. The most consistent relationships have probably been Annatar and Celebrimbor, and Durin+Durin+Disa (off the top of my head). Elrond and Durin (probably the other most popular dynamic of S1) have been apart all season, Elrond and Galadriel have too. Isildur popped up to say hello and we might not see him again.

When you actually stop and look at this season…Sauron and Galadriel had to be separated. She could not be anywhere near him while he’s working Celebrimbor, and there’s no world in which they were ever going to change that narrative. And yet, the Sauron and Galadriel dynamic has been consistent across the season. With Galadriel predominantly (and depending on how the finale goes, I may have thoughts on this), but it has also been easier with her because people have talked with her openly about Sauron. It’s been harder on his side, but the fact that Mirdania seems to have been cast to look like Galadriel honestly – right now – feels like it was done with the express purpose of giving Sauron a Galadriel reference.

Again, I’m not saying you have to like the lack of scenes, but it’s not bad writing to respect the overarching narrative of an ensemble show. Galadriel’s season has been all about him, and we’ve had countless insights to make that clear – building up to their final confrontation. If Sauron was running around mentioning Galadriel every five seconds with Celebrimbor or with the dwarves, it would be horrendously out of character.

This next comment is…somewhat dependent on the finale…but as somebody that loves Elendil and Miriel, everything in Numenor has been somewhat crammed in. I would firmly argue that the Galadriel/Sauron dynamic across this season has been treated with care and reverence, all building to a climax designed as the high point of the season. Will we be 100% satisfied? Who can say! But it IS what the season is building to.

I think this brings me around to a particular gripe I have, and maybe the people that believe this came to the show after S1 had fully aired or something…but there’s this idea floating around that the showrunners don’t like this dynamic and are just giving it crumbs to bait people into watching. This makes me want to scream.

These showrunners literally took a few lines about Galadriel being tempted by Sauron and PITCHED THE ENTIRE SHOW OFF OF THAT. The Tolkien estate wasn’t only pitched by Amazon BUT CHOSE THIS PITCH OVER ANYTHING ELSE. Season 1 was written pretty much like a prologue centred around GALADRIEL AND SAURON HAVING A PERSONAL CONNECTION WITH ROMANTIC UNDERTONES…and guess what?

They wrote all that…they filmed ALL THAT…before knowing anything about the audience reaction! That was ALL the showrunners, the writers, the directors, the actors. They ARE the narrative. They are not bait.

Does that mean the fundamentals of their dynamic will always please you, individually? No, of course not. Some people want outright romance, some people want soft Sauron, some people want Dark Galadriel. Will they kiss? I doubt it. Do I wish they would? Sure! Will they be separated again next season? Probably! Will I also wish that they could at least be stuck together for a run of episodes again? Absolutely!

But the idea that any of this is bait, or unimportant to the show drives me a little bit bonkers.

I guess my personal feeling of frustration comes from the fact that I feel so lucky they are exploring this show from the perspective of this dynamic, regardless of specific details/scenes. I’d bet my house (I don’t own a house) that every other pitch hinged on Elendil or Isildur as the protagonists of the show. Now, I love those dudes, but just IMAGINE? The fact that we’re on this path at all is still WILD to me.

ANYWAY, this is what happens when Paulina goes on holiday and I have nobody to ramble too. Sorry for the explosion, but I’ve been dreading the stupid kiss spoiler since I stumbled on it after EPISODE BLOODY 3 and so I needed to vent somewhere.

TL;DR: You are welcome to feel the way you feel, and if you hate everything you go right ahead, but maybe this makes sense to somebody. IDK. IDK.

[anniebeemine]

satisfied- s.r. x fem!reader

warnings: cheating, minor/short descriptions of sex

Spencer awoke to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, casting gentle patterns on the walls of his bedroom. His gaze immediately settled on you, curled up next to him, peaceful and serene in the stillness of the early hour. The sight brought a warmth to his chest that he had never quite experienced before. You looked like you belonged there, wrapped in the comforter, your hair fanned out across the pillow, a soft smile playing on your lips even in sleep.

He couldn’t help but admire you, marveling at how you made his usually chaotic life feel somehow balanced and tranquil. With a tender instinct, he reached over and pulled the comforter higher over your shoulder, wanting to keep you warm and cozy. You instinctively nestled deeper into the mattress, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

It had been weeks since you had started seeing each other, and every moment together felt like a precious secret. You had slipped into his life so easily, and his bed had become your sanctuary, a haven where the outside world faded away. Every night spent in each other’s arms felt like a dream he never wanted to end.

But this morning, as the warmth of the sun began to invade the sanctity of your peaceful sleep, he felt a familiar tug of regret. He hated when you woke up, when the reality of your lives seeped in, breaking the facade that the early morning hours created. He often pretended to be asleep, hoping to steal a few extra moments with you, to savor the way you looked so content and safe next to him.

The irony wasn't lost on him. He never expected this—you—to happen. It all started that night at the bar, the same one he never wanted to go to, the one his coworkers had dragged him to after an early return from a case. Spencer wasn’t the type to seek solace in the crowded atmosphere of loud music and clinking glasses. He had sat at the far end of the bar, quietly nursing his drink and avoiding the banter of his colleagues.

Then there was you. He wasn’t sure how he had gained the courage to speak to you. You’d caught his eye the moment you walked in—confident, graceful, and absolutely out of place in that bar. It had been one of those rare moments where something pulled him in, and before he could talk himself out of it, he was standing next to you, awkwardly stumbling over his introduction.

He remembered the curve of your lips when you smiled at him, the way your eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. You’d teased him gently about looking like he didn’t belong there, and somehow, you had struck up a conversation. The details of what you talked about were a blur now, but what stuck with him was the overwhelming sense of connection. It was easy with you—something he rarely felt with anyone.

Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up in a cab with you that night. One moment, you were at the bar, laughing at something he’d said, and the next, you were tugging him into the backseat of a taxi, your hands roaming over his chest as you kissed him with an intensity that left him breathless.

But what he remembered most vividly, the moment that changed everything for him, was the first time he had you in his bed. Your hair had been splayed out on his pillow, framing your face, which was contorted in pleasure as your back arched beneath him. One hand gripped the sheets, the other had wrapped around his bicep, holding onto him as though he were the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth. The sound of your moans, the way your body responded to him, had branded itself into his memory. He had been hooked from that day forward, utterly consumed by you.

Since then, he had all but begged to see you.

He kept his eyes mostly closed, listening intently as you shifted beside him. He could hear the soft rustle of fabric as you quietly got out of bed, the gentle creaking of the floorboards as you moved about the room. The sound of your purse being rifled through broke the quiet, and his heart sank slightly, knowing that your time together was coming to an end.

With a small crack of his eyes, he watched you as you slipped on your clothes, the way you moved with a graceful ease, almost like a dancer in a quiet ballet. His heart ached at the sight of you pulling out the delicate gold ring and sliding it onto your finger. It was a reminder of your life outside of this stolen time, a tether back to your reality. He sighed quietly, the sound lost in the stillness of the room as you gathered your things.

As you stood there, preparing to leave, he felt a mix of emotions swelling inside him. There was joy in having you close, but the looming reality of your situation tightened around his chest. You picked up your purse and paused for a moment, casting one last glance back at him, his heart racing as he held his breath, hoping you might linger just a bit longer.

But you didn’t. With a gentle sigh, you turned and made your way to the door, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft, frustrated breath, wishing things were different. As you quietly opened the door, a part of him felt like it was leaving with you, the warmth of the morning fading as the door clicked shut behind you.

He lay back against the pillow, feeling the empty space beside him, his heart heavy with the knowledge that you would be returning home to your husband. The soft morning light felt colder now, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of longing that settled deep within him. As he closed his eyes again, he tried to hold onto the memory of the peaceful moments you shared, clinging to the hope that there would be more mornings like this, even if they were fleeting.