#for my new room after i move out and i won’t get to decorate it as much as i want bc my mom doesn’t want me to damage the paint. but like if

[pepprs]

also (this is it i promise) this is why i am so INSANELY excited to have my own room soon. like omg. it is definitely not perfect bc it’s at home and there’s a breaker box in it and you can hear footsteps really loud through the ceiling and also again *it’s at home* when i really need to not be living at home. but the quality of life improvement i am about to have is actually INSANE. i will be able to have a space far away from everyone else where i can sing without bothering anyone and play piano and decorate it (mostly) to my liking and have a desk and draw and paint and do whatever. finally!!!!!!!! that is going to fix me!!!!!

[jeonfics]

birthday boy | jjk

pairing: husband!jk x wife!reader

genre: married couple au

warnings: lots of touching, fluff, mentions of sex, clingy jk, whiny jk, kisses, he says baby a lot, just overall soft moments

word count: 2.6k

a/n: hiiiii this is my very first fic/drabble i’ve ever written and posted. my writing skills aren’t the best but i hope you enjoy 🥹 i hope to make more stories in the future. this is also all fiction and in no means am i trying to relate this to the members irl🫶🏽

“okay he should be coming home any minute now so you guys need to hide,” you say to all of your in laws. you check jungkook’s destination on your phone and he’s 1 minute away from the house.

his parents, older brother’s: jin, yoongi, hoseok, and namjoon, and their spouses and kids go to your back patio that you all decorated for the party. jimin and taehyung wanted to pull a prank on jungkook first but there was no time for that since jungkook was coming any second now.

ever since you and jungkook had moved from Busan a year ago, he hadn’t seen his family that entire time. you on the other hand, have some family in the states. you guys also couldn’t go to Busan because of work. jungkook yearned to see his family although he called and facetimed them almost everyday.

you hear the sound of jungkook’s car outside parking in the garage. soon after, his keys are opening the front door.

“baby i’m home!” jungkook says out loud as you get up from the couch in the living room hurrying to him at the front door.

“hi! how was work?” you say cheerfully as he takes off his shoes and you take his bag.

“eh. the same. you weren’t at the porch today?” he pouts, a look of sadness and confusion written all over his face because you always wait for him at the porch when he comes back home from work.

“sorry i was doing something,” you say hoping he doesn’t think too much about it. he only nods but when he finishes taking off his shoes he begins to notice the light makeup on your face and the outfit you’re wearing. its just a new floral patterned dress you recently got. you paired it with a necklace and matching earrings. it’s nothing special but definitely something you wouldn’t normally wear at home. you also styled your hair because you wanted to look presentable for the party tonight. you also didn’t have work today and did tell jungkook you’d be at home all day, so he knows you didn’t go out. he ogles at you and grabs you by the waist. you squirm at the sudden movement.

“baby, who told you to look so beautiful?” he asks you while looking at your lips leaning in for a kiss. you know that look on his face but you stop him with your hands on his chest. he’s taken aback by your reaction because it’s also something you normally wouldn’t do- refraining from a kiss.

you see the confusion on his face again, this time he furrows his brows.

“uhm i just wanted to dress up. i was getting bored.”

“you look gorgeous baby. don’t worry you won’t be bored for long,” he winks and leans in for another kiss. you stop him again. not because you don’t want to kiss, but because his family is definitely watching you guys from the back patio near the living room. the doors are made of glass and although they are hiding in the dark, you know they are definitely peeking at you two. you get shy and flustered by the thought of his parents seeing you two like this so you quickly remove his arms from your waist and head towards the kitchen.

“baby what happened? are you mad at me?” he says pouting. it hurts you that he may be thinking if he did anything wrong. he could never do anything wrong. jungkook has always showered you with nothing but love for the past year of your marriage and last 6 years of your relationship.

“no of course not. you just need to wash up first.” you say as a lame excuse for him to not touch you. you know if jungkook starts touching and kissing you things get heated real quick. and you certainly cannot let that happen now.

“but you always give me kisses everyday after work. sometimes a bit more” he winks. “and my birthday’s in two hours,” he whines, his doe eyes looking like a puppy, lips in a pout and frown. “i had such a long day today all i could think about was the bomb ass birthday se-“

“jungkook!” you quickly cut him off. your cheeks gone full red because of the embarrassment. you’re most definitely sure everyone heard that. you panic internally because the thought of his parents hearing that leaves you extremely embarrassed. not to mention, the kids are outside too, and you definitely do not want them wondering what sex is. you and jungkook have this thing where you’re not clingy or touchy around each other’s families. not because you’re scared they’d judge you or something but because you both like doing it in private, when it’s just the two of you. pda isn’t really your guy’s thing.

“aw come on baby. why are you getting so shy for” he laughs. “it’s just me and you here. please just tell me what i did wrong. is it cuz i left this morning while you were still asleep. i was running late and i didn’t wanna wake you because you had cramps last night and it’s the beginning of the month so your period might be coming and-“

“no no jungkook you didn’t do anything wrong. just please hurry and go wash up. then we’ll eat dinner,” you cut him off as you push him towards the stairs. you know the more words that comes out of his mouth, the more embarrassing it’ll be for the both of you. you’ll just let him take a shower before everyone surprises him.

“let’s take a shower together. you know, i had a really reallyyy loooong day and you can help me relieve some tension baby. tomorrow is my birthday after all.” he repeats, using the birthday card to try and convince you while you’re still pushing him towards the stairs. your silence says it all so he quickly retreats, turns around and grabs you by the waist. he carries you up and then places you on the kitchen counter. he stands between your legs, hands brushing your thigh as they slowly slide up under your dress.

“oh my gosh jungkook not now! put me down!” you whisper loudly. he’s confused why you’re whispering so he stops playing with your thighs. you push him away and quickly jump off the counter. you hurry to the living room but he’s faster. he grabs your wrists and pulls you towards him. he holds you with one hand on your waist while the other on the side of your face, thumb gently caressing your cheek. you turn your head to the side and you can clearly spot some of his brothers and their wives hiding behind the chairs and bushes. you only look for a few seconds but you still see them covering their kid’s eyes. “great” you think. you then turn back to jungkook and push his arms away from you. he’s always clingy but of course not when family are around. he doesn’t know that yet.

“baby i’m sorry but you know i can’t hold back when you look this hot. i was gonna wait for tonight but seeing you all dressed up for me,” he licks his lips leaning towards your face, “i was hoping for us to start now,” he says in his sultry voice that almost makes you risk it all.

luckily you’re saved from the embarrassment when taehyung slides the glass door to your back patio and enters the living room. “hate to break it to you but you can’t be so horny tonight baby.” jimin follows and says while laughing, “yeah baby, don’t mean to ruin the fun but you’ve got company.” they both mock jungkook. you laugh out loud, only now realizing how many times jungkook has called you baby ever since he stepped foot in the house.

jungkook releases his hands from you, his eyes go wide as he’s surprised by who’s in front of him. he then runs to hug his brothers. they all jump while hugging. you watch them with the biggest smile on your face. moments later, jungkook stretches out one of his arm for you to join, which you gladly do. the four of you are all circled in a tight hug, jumping up and down in the little circle. reunited after one long year, this is definitely a moment to take in.

“what’re you guys doing here? no one told me you were coming?” jungkook asks as you all slowly release each other from the hug.

“happy early birthday!” jimin says while ruffling jungkook’s hair.

“it was all y/n’s idea. we just wanted to surprise you little bro,” taehyung said as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“surprise!” you say with a big smile on your face looking at jungkook.

jungkook looks at you and quickly lifts you up, spinning you around. “thank you thank you thank you!!” he gives you a big fat kiss on the lips as he puts you back down. you laugh after. finally he gets to kiss you.

“anything for you, you big baby,” you say pinching his cheeks. he gets slightly embarrassed of the word now because he gets remembered of everything he said and did ever since he came home.

he turns to his brothers pointing his fingers at them. “you guys heard nothing.”

your cheeks turn pink from embarrassment. his brothers look at you while laughing. you cover your face with your hands hiding from your embarrassed face. they’re not the only one who heard everything, you three think.

“aw come on stop laughing. it was nothing funny,” jungkook says to the guys as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“well we’re not the only ones who found it funny” jimin winks at jungkook while taehyung bites his fist in his teeth holding himself from excessively laughing.

“w-what do you mean?” jungkook looks at you three confusedly. “who else heard?”

“close your eyes okay?” you say softly to him and he looks at you in confusion but complies nonetheless. you take his hand and slowly guide him to your back patio. jimin slides the door open while taehyung turns on the fairy lights you set up earlier today. it brightens up the entire patio space. jungkook can sense the change in lighting and squints his eyes.

“no peeking!” you exclaim and cover his eyes with your right hand. the other hand still holding onto jungkook so he doesn’t fall or get hurt. some of your nieces and nephews giggle. everyone is already out of their hiding spots and waiting to surprise jungkook.

“baby what did i just hear?” jungkook asks.

“you’ll see on the count of three okay?”

you look around and make sure everything is in place. all of the tablewear, flowers, candles and jungkook’s favorite foods displayed neatly on the long table. in the back near the pool are his cake and favorite desserts on the dessert table, and his gifts set on a different table. you even bought a cute bunny piñata because the kids (and jungkook) would definitely love it. your theme for today was just a nice, comfy, and chill outdoor party and with the help of your in-laws you were able to achieve that. it was everything you pictured~something you knew jungkook would love.

you nod at everyone so they were ready. you release your hands from jungkook’s face.

“okay 3…2…1…”

“SURPRISE!!!” you and everyone yell to jungkook when he opens his eyes. he opens his mouth wide in shock and immediately runs to hug his parents.

“i missed you guys sooo much.”

“we know sweetie. we did too.” his mom says and kisses his cheek.

“happy birthday son. we’re so proud of you.” his dad says shortly after.

you see jungkook’s eyes glistening and he looks like he’s on the verge of tears. you knew how much he missed his family and seeing them after so long would definitely make him feel emotional. he hugs his brothers and their spouses after, and then all of his nieces and nephews.

“i can’t believe you guys are all here. this doesn’t feel real. thank you guys seriously. this is the best birthday gift i could’ve asked for.”

you’re all touched by jungkook’s words. he has worked hard non stop all his life but seeing him now following his dream and working on things he is so passionate about is even more admiring. leaving everything behind back home was an extremely difficult decision for him. when he got the job offer in New York for one of the biggest gaming companies in the world, he was stoked, but knowing that he’d have to leave his family, his home, behind him was definitely not an exciting feeling. he was extremely grateful though to have you by his side but he did feel bad that you had to leave everything behind too, even though you constantly reminded him that wherever he is, you are there too. jungkook waited for the day he’d see his family again, so he looks at everyone taking in this joyous feeling.

“don’t thank us honey, your beautiful wife planned all of this. you are truly lucky to have y/n by your side.” you gush at his mom’s words and let out a soft “thank you” to her going over to give her a hug.

jungkook comes over to you and smiles so endearingly you feel like crying because how can your husband look so precious. he pulls you in a tight hug and whispers “i’m so lucky.”

the rest of the night is spent beautifully with everyone eating, singing, dancing, laughing, and partying. jungkook is having so much fun with his family and you look at him fondly with the biggest smile plastered on your face. how did you get so lucky to have such an amazing and caring husband, along with a beautiful family who adores you just as much as you do them.

when you go back inside to the kitchen to grab more drinks, you feel a light smack to your butt. you gasp turning around and finding your husband with a smirk on his face that you know too well. he pulls you to the corner where no one can see you guys through the glass doors.

jungkook lifts you up and hugs you so tight you start giggling. “thank you so much baby. i really don’t know what i did to deserve you. but just know i will continue to spend everyday of my life loving you and caring for you. you seriously don’t know how much you mean to me y/n.”

“i do jungkook, i do know and you mean the world to me and more,” you say as he settles you back down. you cup his face and pull him in a chaste kiss that’s sweet and tender. the one where all sounds are blocked and it’s just the two of you. he deepens the kiss and pulls you in closer, one hand on your waist, the other on your nape. you pull back not too long and stare at him, fingers brushing his soft, fluffy hair that’s parted in the middle. “i love you so much my love. happy birthday.”

[macfrog]

you shook me all night long sex on fire chapter one

requested by @whore-4-pedro (hope u enjoy lovely)

lived all my succession fantasies out writing this one icl. enjoy 🖤 check out my masterlist for more joel fun ‼️

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: as joel miller's assistant, you're expected to meet all his needs. some are a little more personal than others

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) creepy dude at the beginning, lotta teasing and touching, mentions of female masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, semi-public sex, daddy kink, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), alcohol and drug use, cursing, low-key inappropriate work relationship (if bad then why sexy?)

word count: 7.8k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more. You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin. “I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?” “Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”

It’s Friday night.

You only got home from work an hour and a half ago. Tired, hungry, sore eyes from staring at a screen all night, sore back from sitting hunched over all day. Dumped your bags at the door, ripped your clothes off by your bed, dove straight into the shower. You’d picked an outfit, curled your hair in record time, and even done your makeup before Deb called to say she was out front.

It was a ten-minute drive from your place to the hotel – it’s only a couple blocks from work. The cab driver made light conversation, talked about his daughter and her new puppy, and you both nodded and uhuhed in all the breaks in his sentences. Deb made some comment about it being easier if you’d just stayed at the office until the party, and you’d hummed in agreement, looking out the window at the regal hotel.

Truth be told, you’d rather be doing anything other than attending a work function. You’ve had a long week. A lot of meetings, paperwork, emails to be answered, and most of all, running around after your boss. It’s not all fun and games being Joel Miller’s assistant, regardless of the pay, or the view from your desk over to his.

Your head’s elsewhere when you waltz through the revolving door, heels clicking along the marble floor. The elevator – gold, by the way – slides open and you both step inside, hitting the highest button before you’re swept up twenty floors to the penthouse.

“Did you send those documents over to us yet?” Deb asks.

“Nope,” you reply, slipping out when the elevator dings. “Had to sit in on a meeting with Joel and take the fucking minutes, spent all night writing them up.”

“He won’t be pissed at you?”

“If he hadn’t insisted I was in there with him, you’d have your reports, wouldn’t you?”

She shrugs, agreeing.

“Anyway,” you continue, “I can take angry Joel. He doesn’t scare me.”

Deb chuckles as you shoulder the doors to the penthouse open.

It’s a moody dull, lit only by the lights lining the bar and small lamps decorating mahogany tables, sat next to deep green velvet couches. There are clusters of people everywhere you look; stood near shelves filled with leather-bound books, examining the view from the floor to ceiling windows, sprawled out over luxurious chairs with champagne flutes in their hands. There’s a tree in the middle of the room, branches decorated in blinking string lights reaching to a glass dome in the ceiling.

It's, like, sickeningly pretentious. You know it. Hell, you all know it. Still, in your little black dress, you strut over and take a champagne of your own, sipping on the fizzing drink with one elbow resting on the wooden bar.

“There’s my girl,” his voice coos over your shoulder. “Been watchin’ for you all night, took your time.”

You lean back, bored expression on your face.

Joel’s broad chest pulls on the white shirt he’s wearing, same one you just saw him in little over three hours ago, only without a tie; the top couple of buttons are undone to reveal his chest hair peeking through. You try not to let your eyes linger on him too long.

“You look fuckin’ ecstatic to be here.”

He leans against the bar next to you, arms crossed. When you don’t reply, he nudges you. Your champagne jolts in its glass.

“I always look like this. I’m always ecstatic to be everywhere.”

He smiles. “Why aren’t you mingling?”

“Don’t wanna.”

“’s a work event. That’s the whole point.”

“Then why are you over here talkin’ to me?”

His eyes flash across your lips, and you swear they drop for a nanosecond to your chest.

“Come on,” he says, taking your wrist in his huge hand, “some people you oughta meet.”

Joel ignores your sigh and leads you over onto a plush rug, sidling between knees to sit you down on the soft couch between himself and some bald dude in a jet blue suit, whose shirt is also undone, though much further than Joel’s. He has a chest like a hairless cat.

Cue Ball snakes an arm over the back of the couch; his fingers dance across your back. You shimmy a little closer to Joel and he notices instantly, jaw turning slowly to glance over. When he sees your knees angled toward him, seeking protection, he leans back and wraps his left arm around your shoulders, his right coming down to cup your knee.

“This,” he shakes your leg, left arm pulling you tighter against him, “is my wonderful assistant. My right-hand lady. Couldn’t do anything without her, could I?”

“Could wipe your own ass, that’s about it,” you mumble into your glass, and a roar of laughter sounds from your audience.

Joel, still leaning back, pulls his arm from you but keeps his shoulder firmly behind yours, making sure whatever the creep on your left tries, he’ll feel first. Your elbow rests in the crook of his, and you keep it there, quietly enjoying the intimacy of his body caging yours.

His left hand is settled on your thigh. You realize it after a swig of champagne, and start counting in your head how many seconds his fingers stay gripped on your skin.

He talks with his hands – always has. Walks around his office, ranting and raving sometimes, arms swinging around in the air while you take notes, or file your nails, or just watch until he’s done. For the next half hour, though, he only talks with his right hand. Only sips his beer with his right hand. Only scratches his beard, or pulls his phone from his pocket, or reaches up and passes you a second drink, and then a third, with his right hand.

You stay rigid, legs unmoving, eyes barely leaving his knuckles, locked tight around your thigh. There’s heat from his touch siphoning from his palm down through your skin, rippling like waves all through your body and pooling somewhere south of your belly button. No matter how hard you try, you can’t shake it. Can’t stop thinking about it. You barely notice when Cue Ball’s hand ghosts across your back a second time.

But Joel notices, straight away. He flashes the guy a look, and you swear he’s baring his teeth. Eyes locked on the blue suit like it’s a target, never blinking. He doesn’t say anything when his prey excuses himself to the bathroom, and you don’t turn to watch him go, but you do notice three other sharp-suited pricks stand and wander off in that direction after him.

Probably not a coincidence.

Joel still has a hold on your leg. Your flute is empty, and you lean forward to place it on the wooden table at your knees, beginning to stand.

His grip loosens, but he looks up at you as you tower over him.

“Cocktail,” you tell him with a sweet smile, and he nods, letting you go.

You know he’s watching you as you slink away. Is it the alcohol in your system, or something darker, that makes you sway your hips a little more for his benefit?

Deb’s over at the bar with Martha, another of Joel’s assistants. She’s around his age, worked for him much longer than you have, but when he hired you, you took on most of the groundwork. Following Joel’s orders– sorry, requests, organizing meetings, filing paperwork for him. Martha sits at a desk outside Joel’s office, answers the phone and directs anyone who happens to wander up to the top floor of the building.

Did I say directs? I meant strikes coldblooded fear within them and sends them back running the way they came, with just one look and a nod in the opposite direction.

Unless they’re there for a meeting with Joel, that is. And if they are, that’s where you come in. Good morning, Mr. Salazar, Mr. Miller will be right with you. This way, he’s just finishing up a call.

Martha’s a tough nut. But she likes you enough, so she smiles warmly as you approach.

“I’m hearing all about your note-taking this afternoon,” she hums when you hop up onto a barstool, catching the bartender’s eye. He trots over.

You sigh to Martha, eyes wide. “I didn’t leave until, like, eight. What the fuck’s that about? Can I just get a cosmopolitan, please?” you ask, and the bartender nods. He looks about fifteen.

Martha shakes her head, laughing. “He did it to me when I was first startin’ out, too. Told him to stick his minutes where the sun don’t shine.”

“I’ve been here three years,” you mutter, and Deb snorts.

“You’d think Joel would’ve changed his ways in the, what, seven decades since you started, Martha?”

It earns her a slap across the shoulder. You stifle your laugh behind your glass, thanking the teenager who served you it with a nod.

“Twenty years next March, actually,” Martha says.

“That so? D’you think he’ll get you anything for it?”

“If I’m lucky,” she sighs, eyes travelling up to the ceiling in thought, “a lunch break where he doesn’t bother me once.”

“Knowing Joel, that means a lunch break where he bothers you twice.”

You smile, glancing past the pretentious tree to where Joel is, and notice he’s already staring right back. A swarm of butterflies flutter around your stomach, dancing over the heat his handprint left within you. They only grow more violent when he stands and walks over, broad shoulders swaying, eyes flitting up and down your body.

You lean back, sitting up straight, eyeing him right back as he joins the three of you.

“Speak of the devil,” Martha says, and Joel chuckles in response, but his eyes never leave you.

“We were just talkin’ about Martha’s twenty years,” says Deb, winking.

He finally turns to answer her. “Oh, yeah? When’s that, then, old-timer?”

“Dirtball!” Martha yells, and Joel smirks. It goes straight to your core.

“How many Manhattans tonight, then, Deb?”

Deb holds her glass up. “I am on my second, and I will not be exceeding three. We don’t need a repeat of Christmas.”

“Aw,” Joel complains, tutting, “I liked hammered Deb.”

“That’s ‘cause you didn’t have to deal with hungover Deb,” you mutter, and she shoots you a look.

Joel smiles at you, takes a step closer as Deb and Martha begin comparing past hangovers. He leans forward, waves the fifteen-year-old down, and asks for a beer. As he leans back, you notice the weight of his wrist on your right hip. Nicely done.

“You know there are four guys in the bathroom doing coke?”

“I hope to God that’s all they’re doin’. I don’t need another orgyhappenin’ at one of these things.”

You giggle like a fucking schoolgirl. He looks pleased with himself, and you instantly regret it. You try to play it off by lifting your glass back to your lips.

Joel’s studying you, though, mapping every inch of your face. Watching your mouth as it curves around the shape of the glass, your tongue licking your lips after your sip. He tracks the glass as you set it back down on the bar, then his eyes trail along your arm to your dress, and your stomach leaps.

He looks so fucking good, it sends another wave of energy through your body. Dark hair lined with grey, beard much the same. Strong jaw, lips wetting with every sip of beer he takes, dark eyes flitting across yours, holding your stare long enough to melt you a little, and then dipping just before you can read the thoughts behind them.

His skin a little tanned, his neck thick with muscle. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, you’re so close. Close enough that you could lean up, part your lips and sink your teeth under his ear, suck a mark there, taste him on your tongue.

Your head cocks after a few minutes silence, just the two of you enjoying the fucking look of each other. You lean a little against his arm, steady around your back.

“I hate work parties,” you sigh.

Joel scoffs. “Free alcohol, nice penthouse. Cocaine, if you want it. What’s not to like?”

You narrow your eyes and he laughs for real.

“I hate ‘em, too, baby. Gotta keep up appearances, though, don’t we?”

Baby. This fucker.

“Do we?” you squeak, after a few seconds dazed.

He shrugs. “’s what I hear.”

He’s so close you can smell the beer on his tongue. It makes your heart quicken, your body hum with energy. That could just be the alcohol in your system, though, right?

Who are you kidding? It’s fucking Joel doing it to you.

You have no idea how long he was here before you arrived. He left the office around six, and you presumed he’d come straight here to check everything was in order before guests started arriving. How many beers has he had? Is he just drunk, feeling up on you with liquid courage?

You’re mulling over the thought when a pair of hands clamp down on Joel’s shoulders and his hold on your waist loosens. He mumbles an apology as he’s dragged away by a couple of loose-collared, baggy-suit drunks. You shake your head in response, trying to be cool – It’s all good, man. I’m good. I’m not totally fawning over you right now, no way.

Deb swings her barstool around when she notices you’re on your own, inviting you back into their conversation. Thirty seconds into talking about childhood pets, you’re wishing Joel was back around you, igniting your skin and peaking your adrenaline. Max the Pomeranian is a nice picture; Joel’s nicer.

Martha says something with a hand motion, and Deb nods, elbow knocking into yours.

“What?”

She nods toward the balcony. “We’re headin’ out for a smoke, you comin’?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll save your seats.”

They nod and wander off between a crowd, swallowed up by bodies in the direction of the open sliding doors, the blinking lights of the skyline ahead.

You’re twirling the base of your empty glass around on its napkin when you feel that same heat behind you again, and a hand rests on the small of your back.

“Coat,” Joel mutters, pulling his suit jacket on.

“Huh?”

“Get your coat. Everyone’s headin’ across the street.”

“Why is everyone heading across the street?”

He shrugs. “Afterparty, I guess.”

“It’s a work function. It’s like–” you check your phone, “–oh, fuck, it’s almost midnight.” You screw your face up, watching as the small crowd slowly melts away through the suite doors.

“I know. I throw a good party, right?”

“So good, people are leaving it.”

He tuts. “Coat. Now.”

“I didn’t bring one.”

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“You told me the party was here. I didn’t think we’d be walking all over town.”

“’s not all over town, baby,” Joel murmurs with a sigh. “Here.”

He peels the jacket off his shoulders and you hold a hand out to stop him.

“Joel, it’s fine, it’s–”

“Quit moanin’,” he groans as he throws it over your shoulders. He scoops your hair and pulls it softly out from under the collar. “Alright? C’mon.”

He takes your hand and leads you past some stragglers down the hall toward the elevator, where a group are waiting for the doors to open.

“Tight squeeze, Miller,” some dude chuckles as you follow Joel in, his hand still gripping yours.

He turns, backing into the corner, pulling you with him until your back is flush against his chest.

His hands drop to your hips. You swallow back a scream.

One of the accountants is stood in front of your – Harriet? Helen? Something beginning with H – anyway, she keeps knocking back into you, pushed by the sway of the packed elevator. It means you knock a little into Joel, and feel his chin on the crown of your head.

You turn ever so slightly to mumble an apology to him, but when you feel his breath on the shell of your ear, your words die in your throat.

“Hazel?” – That’s her fucking name – Joel reaches around you to tap her shoulder, and her bobbed haircut swings when she turns. “Did you get those balance sheets yet?”

“Not yet, Joel,” she tells him, and your face prickles with heat.

“No? That’s weird.” Joel’s grip tightens on your hips, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. In a low whisper, only to you, he says, “Thought I asked to have ‘em sent over by this afternoon.”

You muster up the courage to reply with a deep breath. From the corner of your mouth, through gritted teeth, you tell him, “That was before you forced me to sit in on a buyers’ meeting.”

You feel his chest rumble between your shoulder blades as he laughs. The elevator shudders to a stop and the doors slide open; the crowd spills out.

You step forward, ahead of Joel, and make it maybe three steps before he’s back on you, an arm draped over your shoulders. You reach up and take his hand, leaning against his strong torso to let him guide you toward the exit.

No idea what makes you do it. Maybe you’re drunk. Maybe not only on alcohol.

You’re the last of the pack, stumbling over air across the gleaming floor toward the revolving door, which Joel pushes open for you. The cool night breeze hits you as you slip out.

The crowd ahead are rushing across the street, yelling and whooping as they go. It’s juvenile, a little cringe. A bunch of rich corporates skipping across the street toward cheap alcohol and peanuts. You’d care more about the way it looks if you were sober.

Joel’s hand finds yours again and he’s leading you down the steps, cutting between parked cars toward the dive bar. You link your other arm around his elbow and he glances down, noting it. You wish the walk was longer.

A flickering fluorescent light drowns you both in a red glow, and Joel pushes the doors open. The place is flooded with half of your party, drowning booths, leaning against the bar, dancing in any open floorspace.

The floor is sticky, the bar dim. Joel takes you over to the same crowd he introduced you to earlier, and makes space for you to sit. You slide along the booth to the wall and he follows, squeezing up to you to let two more in after him.

“Beers?” a guy with a loose tie asks, to a chorus of yeses and a show of thumbs up. Mitch? Mark?

You tug Joel’s jacket from your shoulders – the movement nudges him and he turns to lift it from your back and tuck it behind you, brushing the hair off your shoulders. You smile in thanks, and his hand falls back onto your leg.

It takes you a few minutes to notice it this time. The gentle squeeze of his fingers around your thigh, the way it slowly bumps up each time he adjusts in his seat or shifts to allow space for someone else to join the booth.

His hand moves slowly, dangerously close to pulling your skirt up with it. Mitch or Mark returns with your beers and you take a massive swig, nerves and anticipation and fucking need for Joel to keep doing what he’s doing, taking over.

Under lights blurred by the alcohol in your system, the table buzzes with energy and chatter and laughter. There are posters and stickers all over the walls, graffiti of names and initials, numbers and dates scored into the walls. Joel traces them with his finger and you laugh at some of the messages.

“Lydia and Jack,” you mumble, “12-24-19. Wonder what happened then.”

“Bathroom sex,” Joel replies, eyes scanning the wall.

You scoff, beer to your lips. “On Christmas Eve?”

He nods, like it’s obvious. “Magical time ‘n all.”

You look past him with a smile to the opposite side of the bar where, through silhouetted bodies, you notice a jukebox.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your eyes widen, your mouth agape.

Joel follows your eyeline and then twists back around. “C’mon,” he says, taking your hand and motioning for the others to let you by. He drags you over to the machine, lighting your faces up in yellow light, and your drunk eyes scan the screen.

“Nope." You swipe Joel’s hand away right before he can pick some Pet Shop Boys song.

“Really?”

“Good, but not the vibe,” you tell him, and budge him out of the way with your hip. He sways off, laughing, and leans a palm against the jukebox, his chest on your back for the second time tonight. As your tired eyes scan the songs, Joel’s chin rests on your shoulder.

He’s judging every fucking song you linger on. “Queen? Little before your time.”

“Dick.”

“Fleetwood Mac. Definitely before your time.”

“The entire fucking jukebox is before my time, dude. Shut up. These are good songs.”

You settle on a track and turn to face him. He has you almost fucking pressed against the box.

“Change, please.”

“Oh, I’m payin’, am I?”

“Mhm. Your work party, your wallet.”

He sighs and pushes a fist into his pocket for coins, tossing a quarter into your outstretched palm. You turn back and select your song, put the money in, and the old machine barks out the intro.

Joel sighs, shaking his head. “AC/DC? That’s your thing?”

“It’s not yours?” You’re taking him by the hand between bodies, swaying as you go.

He’s laughing, following you until you’re in the middle of the cramped bar, chest to chest, moving together. His hands find your waist again and this time you don’t even flinch; your fingers trail up his shirt, across his chest, settle on his collar.

You fucking swear he’s leaning in, each beat of the song drawing his jaw closer to yours. If you weren’t in a room full of co-workers, you’d probably let him kiss you.

I mean, what you’re doing right now is hardly innocent anyway. His hands are splayed on your lower back, your hips flat against his, rubbing, dancing. Your head rolls back and your lips are under his chin, smiling up at him and singing along. Joel sings the words straight back, your breath meeting and mingling in the tiny gap between your lips.

As the song ends, it fades into another. And another, and another. It’s two in the morning before your group of partiers begin to call taxis. You stumble out of the sweaty bar with an arm linked through Deb’s, still singing along to Whitney as you catch your breath.

She staggers off to a quieter part of the street to call a cab, and you hang around under the red light waiting for her. Joel’s stood at the curb; the back door of his sleek black Rolls-Royce open.

“Where you goin’?” he asks.

“Deb’s callin’ a cab,” you reply, arms folded, shoulders hunched.

Joel shakes his head. “Get in.”

“It’s cool, I’m jumping in with those guys. Thanks, though–”

“Baby,” Joel holds a hand out, “get in.”

Your eyes trace from his palm all the way up his sleeve, to his tired, handsome face. You’re sobering up. He looks clearer. Maybe that’s just the streetlights.

“Get you home in five minutes. C’mon.”

You swivel around to look for Martha and Deb, but they’re nowhere to be seen. The cab will come, they’ll assume you’re staying a while, and get in. No big deal, right?

Well. Stepping into your boss’s car after a night of highly inappropriate touching is kind of a big fucking deal.

That’s why you do it. Waddle over to him, take his hand, let him guide you to the car. You swing a leg in and slip across the seats, admiring the ceiling dotted with hundreds of tiny white lights, like you’re staring straight up at the night sky.

They blur through your drunken gaze, which doesn’t pull from them until you feel the weight of Joel on your right and hear the door slam shut.

“Mind puttin’ the partition up, Rand?” Joel’s voice says, though you mostly hear the vibrations through his chest, where your head is lying. His arm slips around your back, pulling you closer into him as the two of you are granted privacy by the quiet whir of the screen closing.

“Good night?” Joel asks, lips on your hair.

You nod. “You?”

“Mhm.”

His fingers are drawing shapes on your left hip. His right hand intertwines with yours. Your left hand starts to wander.

You liked his hand on you. Liked feeling his grip there. Wanted him to keep moving it up, wanted to see how far he’d take it. So, you put your own hand on the inside of his thigh, just like he did. Starting at the knee, and slowly sliding north. Joel’s breath tightens, his chest lifts, his jaw ticks.

The movement knocks you sober for a couple seconds. You realize what you’re doing. You draw your hand back.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

He unlinks your hands and places a steady palm over your withdrawn fist.

“’s okay, baby. You can do that if you want to.”

The drawl of his voice makes your eyes roll back, your heart leap. Your fucking legs clench.

You let him replace your hand where it was, and his legs widen a little. His crotch more available. You’re watching what you’re doing like you’re not even in your own body; watching it how Joel must be, thinking Higher, higher, keep going, keep doing that.

You lift your heavy head, resting it on his shoulder, and look up into his brown eyes. He’s framed by the starlit ceiling of the car. He’s looking at you, brows furrowed, face lined with his expression.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod lazily. “Tired.”

Just then his hand takes yours again and shifts it softly, stopping what was probably about to happen but still holding onto you, still wanting your fingers locked in his. Not halting the train, just switching tracks.

It’s not a long journey, certainly not as long as you’d like, until you’re parked on your street. Rand lowers the partition to call back, and Joel thanks him.

“You okay gettin’ to your apartment?”

“Yup,” you groan, hoisting yourself out of the comfortable car.

“Sure? I can walk you up if you want.”

You bend down, one arm on the roof of the car. “I’m good, thanks. Thanks for the ride, Miller.”

“Be safe, baby.”

“You be safe, too. Bye.”

You throw the door closed and meander off up the steps toward your building. Joel’s car doesn’t roll off until your elevator arrives and you disappear inside.

You spend all weekend in bed, recovering not only from the party but from the week of work you’d endured. You keep yourself busy, though. There’s a Desperate Housewives marathon on TV. And when you’re not watching that, your hand is stuffed down your pants, Joel on your mind.

All. Fucking. Weekend.

In the shower, you’re picturing him on his knees in front of you, lapping you up. Hands gripping your thighs, draped over his shoulders. Your hand plants firmly against the wet tile when you cum, your orgasm threatening to collapse you in a heap.

In bed, you’re on top of him, knees either side of his waist, letting him buck his hips up until you’re screaming, covering him in your wet. Your vibrator battery dies by Saturday night.

Monday morning, you’re getting ready to leave for the office, and need to take ten minutes out to relieve the ache between your legs again. This time, he has you pressed against your bedroom wall, fucking you quick and messy, cumming deep inside you before he’ll let you head out.

It’s just a crush, right? It’s just because of how touchy you guys were on Friday. When you were drunk. And in a cramped, dark dive bar. Everybody gets crushes. And who wouldn’t, on a six-foot-whatever man with a jawline that could cut glass, hands that take a grip of you with minimal effort, a cock probably the size of…

No. Nope. That’s enough. Cut that the fuck out.

It’s just a crush. That’s what you keep telling yourself in the elevator, lights counting down the floors until you’re going to see Joel again. Is the sparkling feeling in your chest fear, anticipation, or excitement?

And is your cunt beginning to throb again?

You give a curt nod to Martha as you arrive, hauling your bag a little further up your shoulder and adjusting the folders in your arms on your hips.

“Where’d you go?” she asks, eyes still on the computer in front of her. Her chin propped on her elbow, face inches from the screen, reading something intently.

“Huh?”

“On Friday. We couldn’t find you when the cab arrived.”

“Oh, I, uh,” you clear your throat, “Joel gave me a ride. Yeah.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Generous of ‘im.”

“Yup.”

“He’s in the conference room waitin’ for you.”

“Cool, thanks.”

You hover for a few seconds, then take your cue to leave. You hurry over to the conference room door, knocking twice before pushing it open.

Joel’s sat at the top of the table, leant back in his chair, feet up on the wood in front of him. You feel like you could collapse.

“Mornin’,” he says, over the dull droning from the phone. Your eyes flit down to it, a question, and he answers, “weekend update.”

“Anything good?”

He shakes his head, leaning forward to hit the unmute button, affirm whatever the hell the other dude had been saying, say his goodbyes, and then hang up.

“Feelin’ fresh?” he asks when he’s sat back.

You take a deep breath and wobble your head as an answer, laying files and folders out on the table in preparation for the meeting Joel has this morning.

“That bad, huh?”

“I was fine by Saturday afternoon. How were you?”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t that drunk.”

Yeah. Sure, Joel. Your fingers took the brunt of the alcohol.

He stands up, wanders around the table to join you. Your fingers begin to tremble at the thought of him so close. Your thighs heat.

“This all of it?” he asks. He’s closer than you thought.

“Y-yep. Some copies there, too, if anyone needs a spare.”

His hand slips up between your shoulder blades, patting you gently at the base of your neck.

“Good job, baby.”

You almost fucking shudder. Your stomach jolts, your chest tightens. The ache between your legs pangs, reminding you it’s there, even though you can’t fucking do anything about it.

You spin around, settling back against the table, ankles crossed. Tense.

“How long do you reckon it’ll go on?”

“No idea. Why? Somewhere you gotta be?”

You shake your head. “Just organizing lunch ‘n stuff for you.”

“That can wait until after.”

“I’ll have it ready for you comin’ out. Be easier.”

He steps forward. Your heart stutters.

“You’ll be in here with me.”

You cock your head. “Again? What– Why?”

“I need you in here. To take–”

“–minutes? Yeah, figured as much. You gonna have me up here all night again writing ‘em up?”

He smirks, dimples in his cheeks. There are two options here: either smack him, or jump his bones – he deserves the first and you deserve the latter.

“I like having you in my meetings, darlin’,” he says, as the door handle turns, “stops me wanting to blow my brains out.”

Martha enters and Joel slots in alongside you on the table. She sets a tray with a coffee pot and packets of sugar and milk on the sideboard.

Your head is fucking dizzy. There’s a ringing in your ears. Energy sparkling in waves from the tops of your thighs all through you. Joel’s shoulder brushing against yours, his eyes boring into the side of your face.

You won’t look at him. Won’t take your eyes off of Martha, laying paper coffee cups out in rows, her back to you guys.

Joel lays a palm flat on your thigh, rounding the curve until his hand is firm between your legs, threatening to push your skirt up. You feel his breath hot on your neck, his voice like honey in your ear.

“Makes for a nice view, too.”

You whip around to glare at him. He leans back, chuckling to himself.

Through gritted teeth, you whisper, “Can I talk to you? In private?”

Joel shrugs, excuses you both to Martha, and then follows at your heels out of the conference room and over to his office door. You waltz in without permission, shoving the door open and waiting for him to close it behind himself.

Joel’s office is bright, clean. Giant windows lining three walls, huge desk with an even bigger bookcase behind. Two black leather couches opposite, facing one another with a glass coffee table between. Soft white rugs, obnoxiously huge lampshades, small fern plants dotted here and there. You found and booked the interior designer for him, and not a day’s gone by since that you don’t remind him of how nice a job you did.

Today, though, you break that streak. You round on him as soon as he closes the tall, wooden door behind him.

“Will you fucking quit it?”

“Fucking quit what, baby?” He’s almost laughing, strolling around his desk and settling into his leather chair, leaning back. Casual. Fucking – arrogant.

You stammer, holding up a shaky finger. “Okay, first of all – that. Don’t call me baby, that’s not appropriate. Second – the teasing?”

“I don’t get it, you liked me callin’ you baby on Friday night.”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and give him a furious stare. He holds his hands up.

“My mistake.”

You stalk over to the windows separating Joel’s office from the reception area. Martha’s still in the conference room, the door ajar. You haul the shades shut to give yourselves some privacy.

“Stop – fucking with me. Stop it. We were drunk on Friday night. It wasn’t– Stop.”

“’m not fucking with you.” He leans his head to scratch his eyebrow. He repeats it when you turn away, hands flying up in the air. “I’m not.”

“Let’s just forget Friday happened, can we do that?”

Wandering around Joel’s office isn’t doing anything to relieve the weight between your legs. If anything, it’s making it worse. You make your way back to his desk and place your hands down on the wood, leaning over.

“Wh…what’s next on the agenda?” you ask, almost panting, your eyes closing.

You hear Joel’s chair rock when his weight leaves it. His footsteps pad across soft carpet, around the desk. Nearing you. They come to a halt and you feel the air stop short, right behind you.

For someone not trying to fuck with you, he’s doing an awfully good job at it.

You surrender, leaning back, your shoulders making contact with his chest. Then his hands find your hips, light, gentle. No pressure on them, not until your ass presses against his crotch and your head tilts, allowing Joel to hook his chin over your shoulder.

He’s hard, under his pants. Against you. You can feel it, still, steady. Rock solid beneath four layers of clothing.

His hands lift from your waist and glide up your shirt front, your stomach tensing when they brush over it. They come to rest over your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples through your shirt. And you fucking let him; lifting your right arm to hook around his jaw and pull him closer into your neck, where his lips leave soft, wet marks.

It feels like the first gasp of fresh, sea air after being underwater. The first gulp of chilled water after a hike. The first wave of aircon in the car. It’s relief. It’s desperate, borderline orgasmic relief.

You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more.

You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin.

“I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?”

“Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” you repeat, and he nods. You take a breath. “S-sounds good.”

Joel’s hands find the hem of your skirt and start to pull it up your legs, painfully slow, revealing more and more of your bare thighs as he goes. He’s rubbing them, massaging until your skirt sits on your hips, little black panties exposed. His hand comes down to cup you, fingers gently applying pressure to your clit through the lace.

You moan, finally being touched by him again, finally feeling his hands on you where you need it most. Already, he’s doing better, making you feel better than you could ever by yourself. Than you did, by yourself. Involuntarily, you breathe out, “Daddy…”

Joel’s fingers pick up the pace. He fucking loves it.

“That feel good, baby? Like it like that? Tell me how it feels.”

“So – fucking – good,” you whisper, legs parting more to grant him better access. He dips his hand lower, thumb staying planted on your lace-covered clit, fingers shifting the fabric under your entrance aside.

He toys with you first, middle finger swaying back and forth through your folds, collecting slick, spreading it around. Then, a second finger, pushing upward, dangerously close to entering you. You’re gasping, leaning into him, letting his strong form keep you upright.

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s whispering into your ear. “You ain’t gotta do nothin’, just enjoy.”

And then he pushes up, two thick, curled fingers entering your cunt in one motion. He has you down to his knuckles, limp against his chest, mouth wide open in a silent gasp. Your head rolls to the side to watch him as he feels you for the first time, and his expression mirrors yours.

“So fuckin’ wet, babygirl,” he whispers, lips on your forehead.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whimper as his fingers press hard inside your soft pussy, starting to pump gently before picking up the pace and fucking you good.

The office is silent, save for your gasps and moans, and the wet sounds of Joel’s fingers in your cunt. He hums into your neck, thumb pressing hard against your clit, drawing tiny circles over the swollen bud.

It doesn’t take fucking long before you’re collapsing, walls clenching, teetering on the edge of your orgasm. It’s all that’s been on your mind for almost three days, all you’ve imagined, dreamt about, thought of.

Joel feels you, knows you’re close.

“Wanna cum all over daddy’s fingers, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you bite back a yelp, “so – close.”

“Know you are, baby. It’s okay, you can cum. Let me feel you.”

That coil, slowly winding since approximately nine-thirty on Friday night, not relieved by your hands, your toys, or your fucking pillows, snaps in one second. The tension breaks across your stomach. Your legs give; Joel’s free hand wraps around your waist to hold you upright.

You throw your head back against his shoulder again, jaw slack with a moan you know you can’t give voice to. Joel fucks you all the way through it, fingers coated in your cum only to dive straight back in, wetter and slicker than before.

There are stars in your vision. You can’t feel between your legs. The office is slowly blinking back into view, but Joel gives you no time to recover.

He pushes you face down onto his desk roughly, hastily, like someone’s about to wander through his door any second. One ear pressed to the cold wood, you hear his belt clink, feel the teeth of his zipper graze your thighs. Hear his deep breaths as he drags his pants and boxershorts down to free his cock.

You’ve never seen him, obviously. You’ve pictured it, dreamt up what it would look like with your fingers deep inside yourself. And from this angle you still don’t see it, but when the weight of it springs against your ass, when Joel lines himself up and his tip dips between your cum-covered folds, you fucking feel it.

His thick head pushing slightly into your entrance, coating him in your slick. He’s big. You moan at the time he’s taking to just shove into you; it’s probably seconds, but it feels like fucking hours.

“I hear ya, I know,” he’s saying, but your hearing’s starting to fade. Blood pumping through your head, white noise rattling against your eardrums.

He pushes in, length separating your clenched walls, entering your wet, warm cunt with a deep growl from Joel’s lips and a gasp from yours. You open up around him, swelling as he pushes deeper and deeper.

“So – fuckin’ – tight for me, baby,” he groans, hands on your hips pulling you back onto his length. “You feel that? Feel how tight you are?”

“Mhm,” you reply, the stretch of his thick cock burning and igniting you in flame. Your eyes screw shut as he keeps pushing, further than you ever thought anyone could, until his tip kisses your cervix and you whine.

“Quiet, babygirl,” he says, pausing and placing a steady hand on the small of your back. “We don’t need anyone out there knowin’ what we’re doin’.”

“So good, daddy,” you whimper quietly, and he knows. He fucking knows.

He begins to draw back, hips leaving your ass, cock pulling out of your pussy. Your eyes roll closed, missing him the more he withdraws. Before he’s fully gone, he snaps back inside, entering you harder, faster, deeper.

You gasp, knuckles whitening with the grip of your balled fists. You bend one arm, biting into your sleeve to stop your whimpers from slipping under the door.

A couple more thrusts and Joel’s fucking you. Hard. He’s fucking huge, so huge it blurs the edges of your vision every time his cock hits against your cervix. He’s almost fucking whimpering behind you, growling your name with every stroke, groaning each time he bottoms out inside you and your tight hole wraps around his length.

You can feel the edge of the table bruising your pelvis, and it feels so fucking good. Everything about this feels good. Joel’s cock stretching you out, his hands gripping you roughly, your own hands outstretched to hold onto the desk for some sort of stability.

The only thought going through your head, only words your lips can part to utter: daddy daddy daddy.

“Good girl,” Joel hums, your moans like music to his ears. “Good fuckin’ girl. Know how naughty you are for me?”

You smile. “Yeah, daddy.”

This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever fucking done. Sure, you love sex, especially when it’s rough. But nothing you’ve ever done with anyone else, nothing you’ve ever had done to you by anyone else, compares to being bent over your boss’s desk and fucked dumb by him.

Calling him daddy, corporate managers slowly filing into a conference room just outside. Only an unlocked door separating them from you, writhing and throbbing under Joel’s cock, his rough hands on your hips, your name passing his lips in breathy moans.

Is it wrong? Yes. Do you care? Fuck no.

You know he’s close; his thrusts become sloppy, hips start hammering against you.

“Where d’you want it, baby?” he grunts, skin slapping.

You’re on the pill, and if you answered honestly, you’d tell him to finish inside you. But you know that if he wanted to do that, he’d just fucking do it. Wouldn’t ask. And you’re not prepared to waste time arguing.

“My m-mouth.”

“C’mere.” Joel slips out of you with no effort, you’re so fucking soaked for him, and spins you around. A gentle hand on your shoulder, he pushes you onto your knees, free hand jacking his cock over you.

It’s the first time you see him, fist tugging up and down a thick, veiny shaft; swollen, reddened tip spilling precum which his thumb collects and drags down his length, gleaming with your wet.

On instinct, you push forward, one hand coming to rest on his thigh, the other taking over from his on his dick. You pump him a few times, and then open your mouth wide enough to take him all the way until he’s brushing the back of your throat.

With a choke, you begin bobbing your head up and down, cheeks hollow, breathing deep through your nose. Joel moans, head rolling back, hand coming to hold your hair in a fist. He drags you back and forth a few times before he begins to shudder and you draw back, holding him steady on your swollen bottom lip.

He looks down at you and your eyes lock as he cums all over your tongue. You moan as your mouth fills with his warm, salty load. When his cock stills and he stops spilling all over you, you lean back and close your mouth, licking your lips and swallowing him.

“Aw, babygirl,” he coos, stroking your hair. “Good job. Such a good girl for me.”

You both take a few seconds to catch your breath before Joel’s hands hook under your arms and he pulls you back up, letting you lean against his desk.

Still in a daze, you feel him tug your skirt back down, fix your shirt. Tuck your hair behind your ears, wipe either saliva or cum from your lips.

“Good?” he asks, and you lace your fingers in his.

Your breath is still shaky, but through a sigh, you say, “Good.”

He nods. “Can hear Ken out front, must all be arrivin’.” He pulls you over to the door.

His fingers wrap around the handle, free hand coming up to cup your cheek. He leans down and presses his lips against yours. You open your mouth and let his tongue past, moaning into the wet, messy kiss.

Something in you almost wants to laugh, thinking about the fact you let him fuck you before you’d even kissed him.

When he pulls away, your hands take hold of his jaw, keeping him at your height.

“Have a good meeting,” you whisper, pecking him on the lips, “text me what you want for lunch.”

He growls, yanking the door open and passing by you, granting your wish to sit this one out. Something in you tells you not to wander far, though.

He’ll probably want to blow off some steam when he’s done.

----------

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[uluvjay]

Fall in love with you- T. Zegras

Trevor Zegras x Best friend! Reader (feat. Quinn Hughes)

Summary: you knew Better than to fall in love with Trevor

Warnings?; angst, self-doubt, crying, asshole Trevor, cursing, Quinn comes to the rescue, this is extremely old and hardly proofread so I apologize for any errors!

Next part

—

You were Trevor’s best friend, your moms were best friends in collage leading to the life long friendship of you two.

You two had always been close even when he moved to Michigan for hockey you never drifted. He begged you to come to Boston with him for collage even though he only stayed a year and your had gotten into your dream school.

It was Trevor how could you say no?

That was a problem of yours never being able to tell him no. He wanted to go to a party even though you hated them? You went, wanted you to stay up late with him despite you having a big test the next day? You did it.

You always blamed it on the fact he was your best friend but everyone besides Trevor knew you were lying, they could all see how in love you were with him they just never brought it up.

The first person to call you out on those feelings was Quinn Hughes. Trevor had invited you to the Hughes lake house two summers ago where he constantly left you and was hardly even home most nights, usually with some random girl he met that day.

There had been an argument between you and Trevor, you blew up on him after he came home from another one night stand telling him if you knew you would be spending more time with the Hughes family and their other friends then him you wouldn’t have come in the first place.

He got offended saying he was allowed to have fun to even though that had nothing to do with what you were saying, after he stormed out of the room you were staying in you made the impulse decision to book a flight back to New York, and get the hell out of there but Quinn had caught you packing.

—-

“Hey you okay we heard you two yell- woah what’re you packing for?” He asked stopping himself mid sentence

“Im going home Quinn, thank you for opening your home to me I really appreciate it and you guys have all been so nice spending time with me while Trevor’s off with random girls every night”

“Wait, why are you leaving though? Did Trevor say something? I’ll go kick his ass right now if he hurt your feelings”

“No he didn’t I-I just can’t do this anymore, he begged me to come and of course I said yes like always just for him to pretty much say fuck me and leave me to be with some random girls who probably took pictures of him sleeping so they can post them an-“

“Your in love with him” he said cutting you off

“What? No Quinn, I’m not” you replied with a defensive laugh

“Don’t lie to me”

“Quinn I’m not”

“Cut the bullshit” he told you more stern shutting the door

“I’m not lying”

“Yes you are, I see the way you look at your phone when he lets you know he won’t be coming back, how you stare at the marks on his neck and back, how you stare daggers into all the girls that talk to him, the way your face lights up when he walks into a room, your in love”

“He can’t know Quinn, it’ll ruin everything” you told him looking down at your hands

“Hey, your secrets safe with me, but you can’t do this to yourself forever kid”

And that’s how You and Quinn also became best friends

—-

Fast forward two years and here you are back at the same Lake house in the same predicament. However over last summer you became good friends with most of the guys including Jamie and Mason who came with from Anaheim.

You Graduated from collage in May and got your degree in interior design, tonight Quinn and Jack were hosting you a small graduation dinner as they wasn’t able to attend your graduation along with some of the other guys.

You were standing in the Kitchen with Cole, Quinn, Jack, Trevor and Jamie who had all just come back from a workout.

“So Y/n you gonna come to Montreal and help me make my house look nice? I need some help decorating my shelves they don’t look good” Cole asked

“You can reach your shelves?” Jack asked causing everyone to laugh

“Shut up asshole” Cole replied

“Yeah Coley I’ll come help but I won’t be needing your stepladder I should be good” you said adding in to the joking

“You know what fuck all of you” he said walking off laughing

“Love you!” You called out laughing as well

“When he murders us all in our sleep I won’t be surprised” Quinn said causing everyone to let out light giggles

“Y/n what color you wearing tonight? I don’t wanna clash” Jack asked you

“You act like you won’t be wearing shorts and a random shirt ” you replied “but probably this white dress I bought a little while ago, I’m finally tan enough to wear it”

“You can’t wear white, the girl I invited is” Trevor blurted out looking at his phone

“Dude what the hell? I told you this was a lake house thing only, only the people staying here are allowed at the dinner, no extra invites” Quinn said getting a little pissed

“Aren’t your parents coming? Along with Luke, some of his friends, and y/n’s one friend? Why can’t my friend come”

“That’s our Family Z, they have a relationship with y/n and she knows Luke’s friends from them hanging around they’re like all madly in love with her” Jack said joining in

“Y/n’s fine with it right?” He said giving you the look he always did when he wanted something from you

“I’m not paying, it’s up to Quinn and Jack they organized the dinner” you said looking away

“Yeah so she’s not coming and if she for some reason does show up, she better not be in white, it’s Y/n’s night” Quinn said ending the conversation and walking out everyone else following besides you and Trevor.

“What the hell was that?” Trevor scoffed

“What?”

“You totally taking Quinn’s side!? Are you in a mood with me or something? Why can’t my friend come”

“Because I’m not paying Z, it’s not something i organized Quinn and Jack did, if I had it up to me we’d being having pizza and sitting around a fire not going to a fancy restaurant.” you told him growing a bit annoyed.

“Whatever” he mumbled stomping off.

—

Four hours later everyone was in a private room at some fancy restaurant in Michigan, in all it had ended up being You, The Hughes family, Cole, Mason, Jamie, Trevor, Dylan and Luca.

Trevor hadn’t spoken to you since earlier in the kitchen and hadn’t gotten off his phone since you guys had gotten to the restaurant.

Jamie and Mason had both said something to him multiple times but it just ended with Trevor giving both of them attitude.

You were talking with Ellen about the new things she had planted in their home garden when Trevor stood up and pocketed his phone walking out of the private room.

“Okay can I ask what the hell his problem is?” Ellen had asked loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I didn’t let him invite one of his little hookups and he got mad because Y/n took my side instead of giving in” Quinn explained.

“He hasn’t said a word to me since like noon either” Jack added.

“Okay this isn’t about him and let’s not make it about him, tonight is about Y/n and her achievements” Jim said shutting everyone up just in time as the food was being served.

Ten minutes later the door opened back up and in walked Trevor with a blonde girl.

You froze, was he serious right now? For one night he couldn’t listen and not go off and do what he wanted. You looked around and seen Jamie and Cole both rubbing their foreheads and looked next to you at Quinn who had his head titled back, then to your right to your best friend who looked like she was about to murder both Trevor and the blonde girl.

You returned to eating until you heard someone scoff and a chair scoot out, as you looked up you seen Jamie pulling Trevor out the room, leaving the girl in the room.

“And you are?” Ellen asked causing Luke and Jack to both let out slight laughs at how straightforward their mom was.

“Emma” she replied

“Mm” was all Ellen replied, she also knew about your feelings for Trevor

The door opened back up and in walked a pissed off Jamie which was a rare sight to see, and an annoyed Trevor.

“Everyone this is my girlfriend Emma” he announced and it got so quiet you could hear a pin drop as everyone looked from them to you.

Did everyone know about your feelings? Were you truly that noticeable when it came to how you acted around Trevor?

“Since when?” Mason asked

“Three months” Emma answered

Everyone just stayed quite, the tension could be cut with a knife and the amount of awkwardness was uncomfortable.

“I think it’s time to head home” you whispered in Quinn’s ear

“Yeah, I’ll go grab the check” he said getting up and walking out

“Where’s he going?” Trevor asked

“To get the Check” you replied

“Already? Is that what you whispered in his ear about? I’m not ready to leave you can’t just decide when we all leave Y/n”

“Well I’m ready to head home Trevor and it was my graduation dinner but you of course found a way to make the night about you” you snapped standing up and leaving.

—

Once everyone got home you went straight to your room and got changed into comfortable clothes, went down stairs, made a drink and went outback.

You were feeling a rollercoaster of emotions, you loved Trevor and he constantly hurt you but honestly it was your fault, you were the one that never told him how you feel how’s he supposed to know you wanna be the one in his bed every night?

You were also angry at him, how dare he pull the shit he did tonight at your graduation dinner of all things. You celebrated multiple achievements of his with him and never once made it about you, it just wasn’t fair.

You didn’t even realize someone had come outside or that you were crying until you heard someone ask you something.

“Huh?” You asked as you came back to your surroundings to see Jack sitting next to you.

“I asked why your crying”

“Oh it’s nothing” you rushed out wiping your tears

“Non of that Bullshit what’s up” he asked

“I love Trevor, no I’m in love with him, have been since I was 17”

“I know” he replied nonchalantly

“What?!”

“It’s not hard to notice y/n, your pretty bad at hiding it” he said with a laugh

“You don’t think he noticed do you..”

“No he’s to stupid” he told you laughing again

“Good, I just don’t know what I’d do if he found out I was in love with him, we’ve been best friends since we were born it would ruin everything.”

“You’re in love with me?” You heard the person that shouldn’t be asking that question ask it.

“Shit” you mumbled closing your eyes

“I’m gonna head back inside” Jack said getting up and patting your shoulder

“I asked you a question Y/n, please tell me you’re talking about someone else you’ve been friends with since kids.”Trevor said

“No it’s you, I love you” you said in a low voice

“What the Fuck” he said with a laugh

“I know, I know I’m sorr-“

“Sorry doesn’t cut it Y/n! Do you know what this is going to change? Everything! Our whole lives, every moment we’ve ever shared, it’s all different now”

“I know that’s why I never said anything, I knew you wouldn’t feel the same” you mumbled

“Damn right I don’t feel that way”

“Can you not be rude right now?, you listened in on a conversation you had no business hearing and now you know information that just ruined our friendship, I don’t need you being an ass”

“Why? Why me y/n?”

“I don’t know Trevor! I ask myself that every single day, why you, why my best friend? And I don’t have an answer ” you told him.

“You should have known better”

“It not like I wanted to fall for you Trevor, it’s not like I hoped and wished that I’d fall in love with you and ruin a 22 year long friendship.”

“We need space, I need space y/n I don’t know how to feel about this.” he told you

“I’ll find the next flight to New York tomorrow and be gone” you told him walking past him and into the house.

—

As you were laying in bed you heard someone knock on your door, “come in” you said with a hoarse voice from crying

“Hey I just wanted to check in, Jack told me what happened” Quinn said walking in

“It was so bad Quinny” you said breaking down again.

“No, don’t cry, it’ll be okay y/n” he said sitting next to you and rubbing your back

“I’m leaving tomorrow” you told him

“Why?”

“He said he wants space so I’m gonna go home, I think it’s for the better you know getting away from him”

“Don’t go home, let’s go somewhere”

“Where?” You asked with curiosity

“A beach?”

“That sounds nice”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” you said looking up at him with a smile

—-

Next part

[gurugirl]

Can We Start Over? | Ch. 2 The Job Offer

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 2. Summary: You can't stop thinking about what happened the night you met Harry and how much you hate him. But then you get some really good news about a new job. Except there's a catch.

Word Count: 9k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, alcohol consumption

Can We Start Over? masterlist

“Oh my god, Y/n. What a fucking dick. But your response was gold! I wish you’d stayed to see what happened. Holy shit!” Brandy laughed as she clinked her glass with yours, “That was some gangster shit right there!”

You both laughed at your recount of what had happened with Harry. You met your best friend Brandy for Sunday brunch at your usual spot. You had called her on Saturday after your exit paperwork was taken care of with Mr. Spector and said you had some very interesting news to tell her but that you wanted to share it in person. This wasn’t over-the-phone kind of gossip. It was a with-a-martini-in-hand face-to-face kind of gossip.

“And besides… the most important thing is at least you got off. Typical fuck-boy, good in bed but an absolute slut.”

You nodded, “Exactly. And it doesn’t bother me too much, really. Not now. Plus Mr. Spector gave me a really nice parting bonus. And I’m sure I’ll be matched with someone soon for another gig but even if it takes a few months, I won’t have to dig into savings thanks to him.”

And it was true. Mr. Spector presented you with the check and a hug and well wishes and you were nearly in tears by the time you left his estate. The movers were there the whole time, taking furniture out of his lovely home. A home you’d gotten to become very familiar with over the years. You held events and small parties there, you helped him redecorate the master suite and all the bathrooms (well you organized it all and helped the decorators and builders with the design and material selection). You even had your own room there. Not that you often needed to stay but that was part of your job description as a personal assistant. Sometimes you needed to stay. But usually, you’d go home at night.

The service that you worked for assured you there were a few clients in need of a personal assistant and if it was a good match, they’d refer you. That was important. To have the right match. You were lucky you were single and without kids. That meant you were more flexible. But that didn’t guarantee a good match.

You were sure you’d be enjoying a couple of weeks off work off to do nothing. It sounded fantastic.

.           .           .

You hadn’t expected to get an offer so soon. When Monica emailed you on Monday afternoon with the file and details of your new assignment (if you accepted) you perused the document with your mouth agape. You’d been matched with someone with what was known as stealth wealth (most were), who traveled frequently. You’d need to keep a bedroom in their home (not out of the norm) and travel with them from country to country. You would negotiate holidays and time off once meeting in person but the salary offered was the first thing you saw when you looked at the contract. There was no pressure to sign but how could you say no to an offer that would erase your college debt and allow you to buy a home in a year? You couldn’t let this one slip away. 

You emailed Monica back right away that you’d accept it and like to move forward. The next step would be to meet in person. Then, you’d find out more about who you’d be working for. The service was very discreet. The client was always given absolute anonymity until it was time for the first meeting.

You stared at your computer screen as if to will Monica to respond faster. Sipping your coffee you tapped your foot against the floor in anticipation. You kind of would have enjoyed some time off. A week or two of downtime. Sleeping in. Catching up on all the movies and shows you hadn’t had time to watch on Netflix. Order in pizza and Chinese, and day drink in your pajamas. But this opportunity wouldn’t be on the table for much longer. Another person would snatch this up in a heartbeat. That dollar sign alone would see to it.

When Monica finally responded you placed your mug of coffee down, held your breath, and clicked the email.

You’ll be meeting with the client tomorrow at 8:00 am at an address that will be sent to you via our private messaging app at 5:00 am. He requests you bring a physical copy of your resume and if you both agree to terms tomorrow he’ll bump up your salary 10% automatically. Confirm this is okay and I’ll set up the rest. Monica

You squealed as you quickly typed back a resounding Yes! Book it! Thank you!

You stood up and paced. Okay. So you learned the client was a he. Well, you’d blow him away. You’d make him want to hire you on the spot with that lovely little 10% bump.

You already knew the outfit. Thanks to working for Mr. Spector, you’d been allotted a stipend for very nice, and well-tailored outfits for when you needed to look chic and professional. Great for a first meeting, your double-breasted jacquard wool coat in neutral colors with a pop of blue, and your blue silk button-up tucked into your jacquard wool skirt, matching the coat. Stylish, flattering, and appropriate for meetings with a wealthy man who would undoubtedly be dressed very nicely as well.

It was perfect. You couldn’t believe how lucky you’d gotten. A new assignment so quickly and one that paid so well? It felt like fate.

.           .           .          

Harry had his house manager, Lucio, contact a highly recommended service to find a personal assistant for himself. He hated to find someone new because that was just one more person who knew his business. And he preferred having very few people in his circle. But Thasi was dumb. He couldn’t bear to have her working for him another minute. She had trouble with very basic tasks, like adding events to his calendar. She’d even missed two flights that he had booked for her and the last flight she missed he only realized it when she came into his study with a folder asking him about an account he needed to close out.

He stood from his desk and looked at the girl in astonishment, “Thasi. Why are you not 30,000 feet in the air right now? Why are you here standing in my house asking me this question? You are meant to be headed to New York City.” His voice was firm. Irritated.

The girl dropped her mouth open and blinked her eyes until it had finally dawned on her that she had forgotten to make her flight to meet with an art dealer on Harry’s behalf.

“I take it by the look on your face that you now realize your irreversible blunder. You’re fired. I’ll have your things sent back to your home by tomorrow afternoon.”

The poor girl couldn’t even argue with him. She knew she’d blown it. That was her second missed flight, of equal importance. And Harry felt he’d been quite generous and patient with her by giving her another chance. But he shouldn’t have.

So when he learned about Personal Premier Services from a few of his colleagues he decided to look for a PA that way rather than on his own like he had with Thasi. Harry’d had good luck finding staff for everything he needed for the last five years without help. The personal assistant was something rather new to him as he usually did most of his own errands by himself or had Lucio do them. But things were changing in his business and he needed an assistant quite desperately.

Harry woke before the sun rose and took his morning jog. He loved getting his day started earlier than most people. It meant he had time to do things like, exercise, catch up on world news, meditate, shower, and eat breakfast all before most other people would even be out of their beds. He also wished he could just stay awake forever. Wished he didn’t need sleep. There were so many things he could accomplish during the hours he wasted sleeping. But, being that he was only a mere human, his body required sleep.

“Sir? Y/n Y/l/n has just arrived. I have her waiting in the sitting room. Would you like me to bring her up?”

Harry cocked his head and looked to Lucio as he sat his pen down, “What did you say her name was again?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

Why did that name somehow feel so familiar?

“No. That’s okay, Lucio.” He stood from his chair, “I’ll go and greet her myself. Thank you.”

Harry’s immediate instincts told him that name was familiar. But why? And oddly, he first let his mind wander to it being you. But it couldn’t be. You were at the ball and he was certain you were wealthy just like him based on your outfit and your demeanor. He’d only gotten your first name that night, not your last name. And while Y/n was your name, the person looking for a job waiting for him downstairs certainly wouldn’t be the same woman who had put a used condom on his hotel door’s handle only to have his now ex-friend-whatever-she-was find it.

Yes. The ex-friend. Aster. He knew he should have stopped their little arrangement before she got too attached. It was never meant to be anything serious. From the start, he told her he was seeing other people but she never wanted to hear about anyone else he might have been sleeping with. And when he realized she started getting attached he should have recognized it was time to end it. But he didn’t.

Harry clenched his jaw and swallowed.

The knocking on his door had come a lot faster than he’d hoped. Aster wasn’t even supposed to be there. Her flight had been canceled so she wasn’t going to make it to New York City. He told her he’d see her the following day when he flew back. But of course, she rebooked a later flight without him knowing. As a surprise. And the call from Aster telling him she was on her way had shocked him and really put a damper on the night he thought he’d be enjoying with you. He just hoped she hadn’t passed you on her way to the door.

As soon as he opened it up, Aster slapped him across the face and held up a napkin with a blush-colored lip stain on it and a scribbled note. But what really had his attention was a droopy condom on his doorknob. Fresh with his come.

“What the fuck, Harry? What the fuck?!”

“Aster, I don’t… what is this?” He knew goddamn well what it was. It was you. “I think someone is just playing a joke on me. This isn’t mine…”

“The note, Harry? Whoever it is knows your fucking name.” Aster pushed passed him to make her way into the room.

Harry looked down the hallway and then cringed as he pulled the condom from the knob with the discarded tissue he picked up off the floor.

“Babe, this was just a cruel joke from someone–“

“Don’t you dare call me babe! And I don’t believe you. Who is going to play this kind of joke on you and then write your name on a napkin from the event you were just at?” She tossed him the napkin, “Hmm? I bet I know who. Someone you just fucked and kicked out because you didn’t think I’d come.”

Harry looked down at the napkin. Sure enough, it said A Secret Garden in the City with Alfred Spector’s company logo printed on it, as well as the note you’d written – Thank you, Harry xx. Bitch. He dropped the napkin onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

He didn’t know what to say. And it wasn’t like he’d been all that serious about Aster to begin with. She was gorgeous and they’d known one another for a while but that was where his attraction ended. In all honesty, he didn’t like her that much. Perhaps this was for the better, as much of an asshole as that made him seem.

“Aster, look…” he sighed and sat down at the edge of the messy bed, “You and I weren’t exactly serious. It’s always just been casual. You know that,” he looked at her with her hands on her hips, red in the face, tears just breaking her lash line. “I’m sorry. You and I were never headed for marriage. It was just some fun for a bit.”

“Some fun? I flew out here to see you on a whim. Not because I thought you were just a bit of fun but because I actually did like you. But you know what? You’re right. I don’t think I could have ever pictured myself marrying someone like you. Selfish, pathetic, overly regimented. You’re doomed to die alone, Harry.”

She pressed her lips together and waited for a response but when it didn’t come she stomped toward the door, slamming it behind her on her way out.

Harry smoothed his expensive blazer out and brushed off the feeling he was getting as he walked through the hallway to the foyer and then peeked into the sitting area where his interviewee would be sitting and waiting for him.

He nearly jumped back when his eyes met yours. Both of your faces held the same expression. Complete shock lined with minor disgust.

“This must be a joke,” you stood up from the plush silk-lined chair you’d been sitting in and looked around the room as if someone were going to pop out and tell you that you were on that show, Candid Camera, and it was all for a good laugh.

But the only person in your sight was the man you had a one-night stand with. The cocky asshole who’d treated you like garbage and then kicked you out of his room when he got a call from someone.

“I think there must be a mistake… You’re… are you a personal assistant? I’m confused.” Harry mimicked your body language, pivoting himself to look around to see if he could find someone and demand answers.

“Yes. That’s what I do for a living. But clearly, I have no intention of working for anyone like you, so if you don’t mind…” you picked up your briefcase and began to walk toward Harry to move past him and see yourself out.

But just as you walked through the threshold of the sitting room to the foyer Harry spoke, “Y/n.”

You stopped and turned to look at him in question.

“Come. Let’s have a chat,” he turned and began walking toward the grand stairwell that led upstairs, turning back to make sure you were following.

You blinked your eyes and scoffed as you looked down at your red-painted nails. Should you follow him? What would be the point? Just to hear him insult you and turn you away at the end anyway?

“You are looking for a job, are you not?” Harry spoke from the bottom of the stairwell, his hand on the lacquered wooden banister.

“I am. But… I don’t think this would work out.” You gestured at him.

“You and I are professionals and you come highly regarded. I’m in great need of an assistant. At the very least we can have a discussion and see where it takes us. I don’t like my time wasted and I’m sure you don’t either. You came all the way here. Let’s at least talk.”

Harry thought you looked cute and he could see the gears turning in your head. He could deal with the one night he’d had with you and the very improper thing you’d done which outed him to Aster if you were good at what you did.

“Yeah, but we…” you chose your words carefully, “Friday night? I honestly don’t think–“

“I can look past that if you can. This is strictly professional. I’ve no interest in anything more.”

What were you to do? He hadn’t just been a one-night stand. He was an asshole. Could he really pretend that none of that had happened? Could you?

But. There was the matter of the salary he was offering. An enticing and frankly irresistible number that could have you swallowing your pride.

“Fine. But I can assure you I will not tolerate being treated like…” you paused to carefully choose your words again. You were certain his house had staff listening in.

Before you could find the word you were seeking, Harry spoke, “Like an assistant who is paid to do her job flawlessly?” He began to take the steps upward and you followed.

You frowned at his description. As if you wouldn’t do your job flawlessly. You weren’t sure what he was implying but you had a bad feeling about this.

When you followed him into a large study with dark woods and big windows with heavy drapes, a huge walnut desk with an expensive chair and bookshelves lining one of the walls he closed, and locked, you noted, the door behind himself, “Sit.”

You looked at the plushy green velvet chairs with tufted cushions and ornate carvings in the arms and legs and placed your bag down on the chair next to the one you sat in. He sat in his own chair at his desk and looked at you, a harsh expression on his face. He was far more intimidating in this setting.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he spoke clearly as he kept his eyes pinned to yours, “What you did when you left that night is unforgivable in a personal setting. And because of that, you and I will never be friends. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work well together as boss and employee. I expect complete discretion and a professional attitude from anyone that works for me. Is that a problem for you?”

You felt your ears growing hot as your anger slowly rose, “I am the most professional and discreet personal assistant you’ll ever find. Anyone else will disappoint you and I would also expect that any employer would treat me professionally and fairly. What you did to me that night was insulting and something I will never forget nor forgive. So don’t worry, I’d never want to be a friend to anyone like you.” 

Harry clenched his jaw at your response and nodded, “Fair enough. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk job details and salary.” Harry looked down at his folder and opened it up.

“Salary? That part was already determined. Plus 10% on top if we come to an agreement on terms of employment today.” You reminded him.

Harry laughed and looked up at you with his head tilted to the side as if he were curious about you, “That was before I knew who I was offering such a generous salary to.” He looked down at the paper in front of him, marking something out and scribbling over it. He held the sheet of paper out to you.

You squinted at him and leaned forward to take the paper and your eyes widened at the new number he’d written in on the contract. You laughed and crumpled the paper as you stood from your chair, dropping it onto the floor and lifting your bag, “Goodbye, Mr. Styles.”

Turning and walking over the grand Persian rug that took up most of the floor you reached for the handle and when you pulled realized the door was locked. You placed your fingers over the keyhole and turned back to the smug fucker. He sat comfortably in his chair with his brows raised at you, unimpressed.

“Unlock the fucking door. This conversation is over.” You were fuming.

“And why’s that? I feel like that’s just a starting place. A negotiation if you will. Tell me why you deserve more and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“This isn’t a game. You had a perfectly fine offer that I was willing to negotiate off of but now you’re just insulting me, once again might add. I’d never work for anyone for that wage. Much less a self-absorbed man who treats women like rubbish.”

Harry folded his lips into his mouth as he tampered his grin. His cocky attitude was infuriating, “Oh please. Save the dramatics. Sit.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “No. You’re an overly egotistical moron with nothing to back it up. I will not stand for being insulted this way.”

Harry pushed himself out of his chair and began to walk toward you, “Nothing to back it up? Wrong,” he grinned as he looked around his extravagantly decorated room and back toward you, “This home is a great example of what I’ve got to show for my accomplishments. My bank accounts as well,” he slowly walked to your side and put his hand onto the heavy oak door you were standing in front of as he licked his lips and looked down at your outfit before looking directly into your eyes, “And I’m pretty sure I had you crying my name over and over again when I made you come. I’d say that’s a great reason for my inflated ego. You certainly thought I was great when I had my dick inside of you.”

You swallowed and then scowled at his nerve to bring up such a thing, “Well, like you said, I’m a bit dramatic. I was overplaying it that night because I didn’t want you to feel bad. Now open the fucking door.”

Harry’s smirk didn’t fall as he leaned in closer, “Liar. You loved it,” then he backed away, giving you enough space to breathe, “Not that you’ll ever have a chance to experience it again.”

“Like I’d want that little thing anywhere near me. Now, are you gonna open the door or do I need to call 911 for attempted kidnapping?” You dug into your bag and pulled your cell phone out.

Harry laughed and you watched in dismay as his dimples appeared. He looked too handsome to be such an asshole. He put his hands up in surrender, “Okay. Fine. We’ll go back to negotiating off the original salary plus 10%. Okay?”

You sighed. You hated that you were even considering it. The salary he was offering was too good, though. You could handle him if he kept personal matters out of your working relationship. The worst-case scenario would be that you quit and told the service about him and how he treated you (of course you’d gather evidence so no one else had to put up with his shit) and then find another job working for someone else.

You rolled your eyes and moved past him to go back to your seat.

Harry rounded the desk and sat down, putting his elbows on the desk once again, just like he’d done when you both first sat down to negotiate terms, “There we go. Money talks doesn’t it?”

Unfortunately, he was right. Money does talk.

You rolled your eyes again and looked at the back corner of his office to relieve yourself from his intense gaze.

“Less attitude, Y/n. Let’s begin, shall we?”

You suffered through an hour of going back and forth on expectations with Harry but at the end realized it wasn’t that bad. Once you both got out your frustrations at the beginning it seemed to flow smoothly after.

You even talked him into paying you 15% more, rather than just the 10%. Which you felt was a big win. Harry didn’t seem that phased by it.

He led you to what would be your room, which had your jaw dropping to the floor. It was… gorgeous. Like the rest of the house, it was grand and old but well-kept. The wide plank dark floors were covered with a light cream wool rug with small yellow, green, and blue flowers woven into the fabric. Long soft, lacy drapes hung from the ceiling and brushed against the floor over the tall windows that overlooked the massive back garden full of trees and flowers and fountains. The king-sized four-poster bed had a pale yellow, silk canopy with tiny blue birds sewn into the material. The bedspread was white silk with the same yellow and blue birds sewn in. Ornate, heavy wooden side tables, a dresser with a big vanity and silk-covered cushion sat across from the bed. An antique chandelier hung in the center of the room, high above the bed. Flowers and potted plants with green leaves rounded out the space. There were two closed doors. One led to a small closet (not a surprise it was so small for the period of the house), and the other to a fully updated, spa bathroom which… you really had to pause for a bit as you took it all in.

Harry handed you keys to the house and a fob key that would allow you in the gates that surrounded the home and told you to arrange to have your things moved in by the following day (on his tab) and that you would start work at 8am sharp.

You called Brandy the moment you drove out of the gates to tell her what had just happened.

“It’s him. It’s the asshole one-night stand. I just accepted the offer to be his assistant.”

“I’m coming over with a bottle of wine. I need details in person.”

“Brandy, I’ve got to make arrangements and get everything ready, I don’t know…” you hemmed as you drove down the road with your heart beating fast in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d just accepted to work with Harry Styles.

“Don’t make stupid excuses with me. You can do all that with a glass of wine in your hand.”

.           .           .

“I see why you took the job. Damn. I’m jealous,” Brandy spoke as she stood in your bedroom doorway while you packed up things you’d need right away. Harry explained that you’d be staying at his house more often during the week than your own apartment. He ran a tight schedule and driving an hour to his house every morning didn’t sound appealing and he didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Yeah. I was going to say no. I really was but… how can I turn down that offer? I’ve never made so much in my life and honestly? Probably never will again. I figure it’ll be like a trial run. We’ll see if he can be professional.”

You called around and found movers and arranged for them to have everything delivered to Harry’s address the following afternoon. It was still early in the day so you scheduled to have a set of your spare keys delivered by a courier by 5 pm so they could have access to your apartment the following day as you’d be gone.

You were busy the whole time Brandy was there but you were glad she was with you. You marked items you needed to have delivered and printed out a sheet of paper for a checklist for the movers.

But by the time your keys were picked up by the courier and you were halfway through the bottle of wine, you’d finally had time to sit and relax.

“You two are totally gonna fuck again,” Brandy grinned as she looked at the TV.

You scoffed and smacked her arm, “We are not. I’d never go near him again. Not after that night. I actually, fully despise him.”

“Yeah… sure. I mean… I know he was an asshole but also the way you spoke about how good he was in bed? How do you turn that down? You two are gonna practically be living together and traveling together. I don’t know… I looked him up. He’s hot, Y/n. An asshole but… we all have needs.”

Shaking your head you sipped your wine and ignored her. The thought had very very briefly crossed your mind but it was quickly pushed away because the reminder of how he treated you Friday night couldn’t be ignored. You’d never ever forget the way he made you feel so little and so disgusting.

“He literally cheated on someone while he was with me. He had a girlfriend. He fucked me as she was on her way over. Like…” you flailed your arms dramatically, “how could I possibly sleep with someone that is a cheater? I mean willingly? Now that I know?” You shook your head.

Still, Brandy didn’t seem deterred in her assumption, “Yeah… but we don’t really actually know who called him. And if it was someone he was seeing? I mean… come on. It’s not as if they were married. We can gather that much. Yeah, he’s shit for what he did but like… I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s not like he cheated on his wife or something.”

Brandy had always looked at things through rose-tinted glasses which was annoying. Where you were more practical and stubborn. There was no way you’d end up in his bed ever again. You didn’t know the excuse for why he kicked you out after he spoke on the phone and called someone babe. But that was beside the point. The more important factor was the way he treated you and that was simply unforgivable.

.           .           .

You were running late. You couldn’t believe it. Your alarm had gone off on time. You showered, ran through your quick morning routine, double-checked that all your things would be delivered to the correct address, and then you were on the road by 6:45 am. You allotted an extra 15 minutes in case of extra bad traffic.

But traffic is unpredictable.

“Hello?” Harry spoke into the receiver. You had your phone on speaker.

“Harry? Mr. Styles!” You corrected yourself, “Um… I’m stuck on the highway and it’s a bit backed up. I’m just giving you a heads up that I’ll be like…” You sighed and looked at the clock trying to make some kind of conservative estimate, “twenty minutes late?”

You heard him grunt in response and then sigh, “Fine. Please come up to my office the minute you walk in.” And then he hung up. That was it.

And of course, you half expected such a response. He gave you little indication of his opinion on you being late. You just hoped he didn’t hold it against you on your first day. It had genuinely been out of your hands. But then again, you being at the house with him on subsequent mornings would mean that being late in this way wouldn’t happen ever again.

When you parked at the front of the house you finagled your suitcase out of the backseat and lugged it up the front steps just as the door opened, “Good morning, Miss. Can I bring this to your room for you?” An older man stood with a smile as he scooped your suitcase away from you.

“Oh. Uh… Okay. Are you sure?” You followed him inside.

“Absolutely. Mr. Styles is expecting you right away.”

You swallowed and watched the man walk away as you took a breath. Your first day working for Harry Styles. Possibly also your last, depending on how everything went.

You climbed the stairs toward his study and knocked twice before pushing the door open gently.

“Come and sit.” He spoke right away. He didn’t even glance your way as he continued typing at his computer when he spoke.

You sat in the same chair you had the day previous and waited for him to finish whatever he was doing.

He cleared his throat and squinted at his computer screen, “I’m an art dealer as I mentioned yesterday. But… it’s more complicated than that sometimes. I deal in art and cultural artifacts that can sometimes be a bit…” he looked at you, “morally grey in the way they are handled. It’s rare but I do occasionally have opportunities and come across certain pieces when a collector is willing to pay an exorbitant finder’s fee for the item.”

“Morally grey. Which means illegal.” You corrected, keeping your eyes on him.

He shook his head, “No. Nothing I do is illegal. Some take issue with some of the items I procure and where they come from, but ultimately, everything I do is technically legal.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what he meant exactly. But you assumed you’d be finding out soon enough.

After Harry explained in detail your schedule from day to day, he had Lucio give you a quick tour of the parts of the house you didn’t see the day before. He even had a binder with your tentative weekly schedule, important numbers to have on hand, addresses, passcodes, a new laptop, and passwords to his login details for various online accounts. He also handed you a credit card, “You’ll make all your own arrangements as well as mine. The limit on this card will cover the cost of flights and accommodations. You and I will be traveling frequently, as I mentioned yesterday.”

Your morning was filled with short bursts of Harry giving you information and what to expect, but half of that consisted of you waiting while he spoke on the phone and typed out emails. You couldn’t imagine why an art dealer would be as busy as seemed to be. Clearly, he was making lots of money so there was no doubt that he was busy with clients. But why?

You researched the ins and outs of being an art dealer the evening before, once Brandy’s Uber arrived to take her home. The typical art dealer did not make the kind of money you knew Harry had. Most also typically worked through auctions, galleries, and museums. Harry seemed to be his own entity doing deals as an individual.  So you knew he wasn’t typical in his field.

At lunchtime you were hungry. You’d eaten something small before dashing to your car that morning but that had long been digested.

“Mr. Styles?” You looked at him from your spot in your chair as you closed your new laptop.

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s lunchtime for me. I was hoping I could get something to eat if that’s okay? You should probably also eat. I can bring you something if you take your lunch up here.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less if he ate, but you were so used to making sure Alfred ate that asking Harry was automatic.

Harry’s brows scrunched together and he looked at his computer screen, “Hadn’t realized the time. Sure. Feel free to make something for yourself or you can ask Carl to. I’d like a vegan cassoulet.”

You stood and looked at him in confusion, “A vegan… what?”

“A vegan cassoulet,” He pronounced the word obnoxiously, “Carl will know what I want. Just tell him.”

You repeated the word to yourself. Cas ooo lay – cas ooo lay… You thought it sounded like one of those French dishes you’d never ventured to try.

In the kitchen, you found Carl right away and told him what Harry wanted.

“And what for you?” He began to pull out pans and got to work right away.

“I can manage. I think just a sandwich. Is everything here in the fridge?” You opened up the door and immediately were overwhelmed by the amount of groceries and items packaged inside. The fridge itself was state-of-the-art. Everything in the kitchen was.

Carl laughed and stepped up behind you, “You can find everything you might need in this kitchen yes. But perhaps we’ll leave the cooking to me today, just until you get used to where everything is. What kind of sandwich would you like?”

“Oh. Maybe that’s a good idea. You don’t mind?”

Shaking his head, Carl reached passed you to pull out some vegetables, “Not at all. This is what I do. How about a French bread panini? I can slice up some turkey and Swiss, load it with vegetables? Or maybe you’d prefer grilled chicken and pesto? Egg salad? Or are you vegetarian?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m definitely not vegetarian. And the first one sounds fine. Turkey and Swiss panini. Any veggies you put on it will be good. I just don’t like mayo.”

It was wild to be having lunch made for yourself by a professional private chef. And Harry’s cassoulet looked divine but after googling it you learned it’s usually made with various kinds of meat and that the duck confit is what makes the dish. But since his version was supposedly vegan, you couldn’t imagine it tasting anything like it was probably supposed to.

You also learned that Carl wasn’t just a personal chef. He also did all the grocery shopping.

After lunch, your belongings arrived. The movers placed everything in your new bedroom and handed you the key to your apartment before they left.

“This is it?” Harry asked standing in the doorway as he looked around at the boxes and bags you’d had delivered.

“Yeah. I don’t have much I need to keep here. You’ve got the room fully furnished. Just my clothes and essentials.” You shrugged as you opened up the box near the bed.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you as you dug into the box and pulled out your potted Pothos plant. “What?” You looked at him as you placed the plant on the floor.

“Nothing. Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I think it’s a good stopping point today. We’ve got you set up on everything so you can unpack and relax. Normally our days will be longer but since it’s your first…” he put both arms down by his side and stopped fidgeting, “It’s good for today. And like I said earlier, you are free to watch TV in the main room downstairs or get anything from the kitchen you need at all. You don’t need to just stay in your room all night unless you choose to.”

You squinted at him, wondering if there was some kind of catch. He was rather pleasant, you had to admit. After you both got everything out of the way the day before things had been fine. Normal even. But you still had to keep your guard up around him. And all it took to remember who you were dealing with was what he’d done that night.

You decided against going downstairs to watch TV. Maybe you’d feel comfortable enough to do that later on but that night, it felt nice to take a long bath and listen to music and then curl up on your soft, silky bed with your laptop and Netflix.

Though you did get thirsty. And a bit hungry around 8. So you ventured down and hoped to not run into anyone.

Except of course, you ran into someone. When you entered the kitchen you saw Harry standing in front of the refrigerator looking in. Apparently, he had the same idea as you.

You cleared your throat and Harry turned to see you there, “Oh, hey.” He closed the fridge and faced you, “Need something?”

You nodded and stepped toward the pantry, “A little hungry and thirsty. Is it okay?”

“Of course it is. Help yourself to whatever. I was just about to make some pasta. Something simple. Would you like some?”

“Yeah. I can help you make it. What do we need?” You neared the fridge and opened it up, pulling out a glass pitcher of water.

Harry ran down the list of ingredients, which weren’t many, and you helped him slice garlic while he boiled the pasta and poured a can of San Marzano tomatoes into a small pot.

Everything came together quickly and you both sat at the island to eat the late-night meal together.

“Tomorrow we’ll book a trip to Vancouver. Someone has a few pieces I’d love to see in person.” Harry explained what to expect on the trip as you listened.

Then you got to talking about your parents and then college. Harry shared a little about himself but it wasn’t much. You didn’t expect that he would, but he did tell you about his mom and sister. You could tell how important they were to him just by the way he spoke. It made you feel warm toward him in a way knowing that he cared about people other than himself. Something you hadn’t been sure about as he seemed so cold.

When you were both done you tried to help him clean up, “You don’t have to do this, Y/n. I’ve got a housekeeper who will be here in the morning. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Are you sure? Are you headed to bed?” You asked as you placed the forks into the sink.

He nodded, “Yeah. Time to call it a night.”

“Do you always go to bed this early,” you grinned as you refilled your water to bring it with you to your room.

He raised his brows, “Yeah. I get up at 4:30 in the morning to start my day so 9:30 or 10 is about when I go to bed.”

You cringed to yourself. 4:30 in the morning? That sounded like hell.

You both went your separate ways as you bid Harry good night.

.           .           .

You had a busy morning. You booked a trip for the following week to Vancouver for yourself and Harry. Two nights at The Four Seasons (2 separate rooms, connected), first-class airline tickets, a reservation for the 2nd evening at a nice restaurant for four people, an on-call driver for the whole visit, and set-up details with someone’s assistant named Lana for the meeting.

Harry wanted everything to be perfect so you had to work at extracting as much information from Lana as possible. At first, Lana sent you an itinerary that was rather simple and would have most people feeling good about the meeting. But Harry took one look at it and knew he needed more information. So you spent the majority of your morning speaking with the young woman and filling in details that appeared to be missing.

“This is excellent, Y/n,” Harry looked up at you as he stood from his desk. The itinerary and all the bookings were taken care of. “I’m leaving to take care of something personal. You can have the rest of the day off. Thank you.”

You felt pleased. So far, working for Harry hadn’t been all that bad. He was picky and hard to please but you could handle him. You just hoped that the momentum you two had would continue into the weeks ahead.

.           .           .

You met Brandy out at your favorite club. You wore a cute black dress and black booties and your black leather jacket.

“Oh damn, girl! You look good!” Brandy called to you when she spotted you through the crowd.

“I can’t stay all night! I have to work in the morning, so I stop at 2 drinks!” You spoke loudly so Brandy could hear.

Brandy’s side eye told you that your friend would be trying to get you to enjoy yourself for longer. But you couldn’t. The last thing you wanted to do was to be on Harry’s bad side and be hungover the next morning.

But, Brandy was convincing. Too convincing at times.

Four martinis in and you were painfully aware that you wouldn’t be driving back. You’d need an Uber and that kind of sucked because Harry would know when your car wasn’t there. But… since you’d already need to Uber and you were already out, you had a fifth martini and danced with Brandy and forgot all about your promise to yourself.

The night grew blurry and you couldn’t stop talking about your boss.

“He’s so put together too,” you slurred as you and Brandy leaned into one another, too drunk to dance or drink anymore.

“I know. You keep saying that. And how big his cock was,” Brandy laughed and you pushed her, causing her to stumble back dramatically so you reached out to steady her but wound up falling with her to the floor in a fit of laughter.

Yeah, you’d gotten sloppy drunk.

“I need to go,” you pushed yourself up to stand as you reached for your cell phone. You could hardly see straight, and pulling up the Uber app was simply not going to work. Instead, you called the second to last person you’d texted, Harry. You really hadn’t put much thought into it.

He answered the line and you pushed your way toward the front of the club to go outside, dragging Brandy with you, “Harry!” You howled loudly.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Club Yega. Can you pretty please come pick me up? I’m so drunk.” Your voice was scratchy and your words were watery.

Once you got outside you repeated your question, unable to hear what Harry had responded to you.

“Okay. Just wait for me outside. Is there anyone with you?” He sounded concerned.

“Brandy is here and the security guy standing by the door,” you said matter-of-factly before hiccupping.

Harry told you he’d be there soon and Brandy wobbled into your side as she used one eyeball to call an Uber for herself.

You were unable to recall how long it took for Harry to arrive, or when Brandy had gotten into her Uber and left but when you saw him, he was standing over you with his hand out, “Up you get,” he grasped your hand and helped you stand up. You’d been sitting on the sidewalk.

“Should be more responsible,” Harry chided you as he helped you to his running car, “No one’s watching over you. Where’s this friend you had with you?”

“She was here I promise but her Uber came to get her,” you stumbled into his car and plopped down into the seat with an umph!

Harry looked back at the front door security person and nodded to him as he rounded the car and got inside.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I was going to only have 2 drinks. Swear.”

“It happens. But you should have called me sooner. Don’t like that you were sitting out there alone like that. It’s late. And we have an early day tomorrow.”

You turned to look at him as he pulled into the street and reached a hand up to the curl that covered the top of his ear, “You’re so pretty. Which is weird because you’re such a fucking dick.”

Harry shook his head and laughed to himself as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I’m serious. You’re too pretty for it to be real. Your voice even.” You croaked.

Harry glanced at you quickly, “Oh yeah?” His grin widened. He knew the alcohol was talking but he certainly didn’t mind hearing your thoughts about him while you were inebriated.

“Yeah,” you lowered your finger to his shoulder and then poked at his bicep before dropping your hand back into your lap, “Nice everything. Except you’re not actually nice are you?” You let out a garbled laugh and closed your eyes for a moment.

“Hey… Come on. You’re drunk. Just close your eyes and we’ll be home soon.”

You shook your head and looked back at him, “Bossy too. But it sucks because it was so good that night. God I still think about it… and then I remember how you kicked me out like I was filthy. That was mean. Hurt my feelings.”

Harry sighed and stayed quiet. He was not going to engage in this kind of conversation with you while you were drunk. He was sure you wouldn’t remember any of it anyway.

But you didn’t stop there, “I wish I could stop thinking about it, though. S’not fair.”

Harry kept his eyes on the road and listened.

“The way you sounded when you were coming. I keep hearing it,” you squeezed your thighs together and looked out the window with a soft sigh. “Never had it like that before. But fuck you.”

Harry swallowed and blinked his eyes. He was a little surprised by your drunk confession. He liked that you thought fondly of some aspects of that night. Clearly you had enjoyed the sex. But to hear you saying how your feelings were hurt and that you were still angry about it all?

He looked over at you and down to your thigh where your dress had ridden up quickly before looking back at the road. He still refused to engage in this. You were drunk. Very much so.

“And your hands, Harry…” you reached over to brush your fingers over the back of his hand that was gripped on the steering wheel, “Oh god…” you breathed your words, “Your fingers. How good you are with them,” you bit your lip and leaned your head back into the leather seat and closed your eyes. “But still fuck you.”

When you were silent for a few minutes Harry looked over at you and noticed you were asleep.

He was glad you’d stopped staying the things you were. Your words had him confused. You were going from hot to cold fast. But he knew you wouldn’t ever reveal such things to him if you hadn’t been so far gone.

Waking you up gently, he put his arms under yours to help you out of his car, “We’re home, Y/n. Let’s get you up to bed.”

You were able to use your legs, but things were spinning. You clung tightly to Harry as he slowly brought you upstairs to your room.

When your bottom hit your mattress you laid back and sighed, “I might throw up,” you said.

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head as he helped you out of your shoes. He knelt down and unzipped the leather to pull each one off. He didn’t intend to let his eyes wander over your legs and your thighs, but your dress had gotten bunched up so he could practically see your panties. And then they were fully on view when you scooted yourself into your bed further.

Harry leaned over you and pulled your blankets up over your body, “I’ll be right back with water.”

He couldn’t believe how adorable he thought you were. Even though you were still angry at him over what he’d done he liked the sass a little. He was definitely attracted to you. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He tried not thinking about that night with you but after you’d brought it up he couldn’t help himself but to indulge in thoughts of the way you felt and how wet you got for him. Your body, your voice… You were good with your hands too, he smiled remembering your comment about how you liked his hands. But of course, the smile fell from his face when he remembered how the night ended. How shitty he’d been. But now things were too complicated and he wasn’t sure that any kind of apology would ever be enough.

When he got back to your room you were asleep. Out cold. He placed the water on your nightstand and brushed his fingers along your forehead. You were cute.

He plugged in your cell phone and smiled at your sleeping face.

“Good night, pretty girl,” he whispered as he turned off the lamp next to you before leaving the room and closing the door behind himself.

Part 3

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[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mention of harm words -> 1.1k

abstract -> healing takes time...

y/n's perspective

“I want to dye my hair too!” Wooyoung now begged seeing Yeosang with a new haircut and Seonghwa with blonde hair. “We should dye our hair the same color!” he offered to San, who only gave him a weak smile until Wooyoung turned back to me when San shook his head no. 

“y/n! Tell Wooyoung to stay away from my stuff!” Yeosang yelled as he now came over with products used up and left open from what I assumed to be Wooyoung. 

“Just learn to share” he grinned and the doberman scoffed. 

“Where’s the tigers?” San asked and I wondered that too. “Seonghwa is currently throwing things outside the door while yelling at Hongjoong,” Yeosang said and I was left confused. We all walked over to see Hong Jong standing in front of his room where the door was open… socks, clothes, and trash were being thrown out of the room and at the orange tiger. 

“It’s not that bad Seonghwa, you’re being dramatic,” Hongjoong said and was met with a can of what used to be soda at his head. “Then why is this place a mess!” Seonghwa yelled as we leaned in to see him lint rolling the floor… and occasionally throwing things.  

“y/n… this is why I asked if I could get my own room” he begged and Seonghwa scoffed. “Please, by all means, move me somewhere else! I don’t wanna clean after your pile of dirty clothes!” he yelled. 

“Copy Tiger!” Wooyoung said while teasing Hongjoong. “I want a lock in my room” Yeosnag suggested and I laughed. “You do have a lock…” I said and he shook his head. “A new one… Wooyoung broke it and there's no key to go in if I leave it locked” he explained. 

“How about you and Seonghwa share rooms?” San offered and Yeosnag scoffed. “Honestly, I’d prefer the snobby dog over Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said still cleaning. 

“Hmm… maybe then Wooyoung wouldn’t come barging in,” Yeosang muttered. “Hey!” Wooyoung yelled. “angel, i'm fine with the tiger moving into my room” Yeosang said and I was shocked at the sudden request… “Are you sure? There's still an extra room?” I asked and he shook his head. 

He pulled me aside from the other three staring inside the room Soenghwa was cleaning. 

“Seonghwa and I share a lot of products anyway… and I already have him use up my clothes and the same with me. Wooyoung wouldn’t steal from Seonghwa without getting scolded. He’s the oldest and would just retaliate by making him clean the fridge or dishes by himself” he explained and I chuckled. 

Protection of the oldest hybrid here… you were unsure but trusted his suggestion.

“Well… if that’s what you want?”

I was shocked that Seonghwa moved in the same day.

I was busy all day with San and writing my book when I went out for dinner to see Seonghwa scolding Wooyoung. “Sorry hyung…  won’t do it again” he apologized while I saw Yeosnag grin from the kitchen island.

“Your plan worked?” I asked and he nodded. “Seonghwa is making him clean out the freezer as punishment for touching his magazines” he explained and I chuckled.

“So he’s completely moved in?” I asked and he nodded. “He even cleaned, wanna see?” he asked and he led me to their room where I saw… an organized and clean room. I knew Seonghwa was clean but they both had made beds and a clean decoration in their room that fit their expensive taste. Even the stuff they share, they’ve organized.

“And if any of them do come to rob us, they’ll get to Seonghwa’s stuff first since he’s closest to the door,” Yeosang explained and I chuckled. “As long as you get along… I didn’t think you’d ever room with him because of your arguments?” I asked and he shrugged. 

“Doesn’t mean we don’t see eye-to-eye”

I knocked on Hongjoong’s door with a plate of food when he opened it. “Ah dinner already?” he asked and I nodded. “Done moving your stuff around?” I asked and he nodded. He lets me in where I see he’s completely replaced Soenghwa with instruments and his computer. 

“At peace finally!” he exclaimed. 

“Is this what you expected when you asked me for your own room?” I asked and he nodded. “Seonghwa as much as he doesn’t get along with Yeosang are menaces together. So they’ll be perfect roommates and even Wooyoung and San are clingy to each other” he explained and I agreed. 

“I’m making an appointment for San and Wooyoung to dye their hair… Do you want to?” I asked and he thought about it. “Hmm… what would I dye it to?” he asked and I shrugged. 

“Seonghwa recommended blonde for his white tiger fur, and Yeosnag stuck with his normal hair since it blends with his fur” I explained and he nodded. 

“Hmm… do you think two hair colors would look good?”

“Why would you copy me?”Hongjoong complained while looking at Wooyoung. He decided to color part of his hair blonde while dyeing his other hair a darker brown than before. San only held my hand as we waited for the elevator to reach my apartment. 

He only trimmed and styled it… it was no longer as messy as before and made him look more mature. While Hongjoong did half his hair blonde and the other black… with Wooyoung copying him a bit. 

“If anyone was gonna match I thought it was gonna be San and Wooyoung '' Seonghwa teased and Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t that look cute” Yeosang added and I laughed. 

“I think they both look good,” I said and Hongjoong offered me a smile whilst Wooyoung showed off his new hair cut. 

“It’s almost like a new look for you and Wooyoung for your first anniversary with me” I teased and he chuckled. “I kinda like the sound of that San said and I smiled.

“What do you guys wanna do?” I asked and he hummed in though. “Oh! I wanna go out to eat in a fancy restaurant!” Wooyoung said and San nods agreeing.

“Theres nothing special about it” Yeosnag said and Woyoung stuck his tongue out. “Says the one who went there more than a grocery store!” he argued. 

“Ooh! And we need a lot of desserts to celebrate!” Wooyoung now told me hugging me. “What flavor do you want San?” he asked the panther. “Chocolate!” he said with a grin. 

“Anything you guys want”

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[wosoragebaiter69]

ignored

alexia putellas x fem!reader

request: here

A/N: this photo is my roman empire and new tiktok pfp 😜 (my titles on fics or SO over dramatic icl)

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

Being the second captain of Barcelona, meant coming with a few responsibilities. Like showing new players around, and trying to include them in the atmosphere to make the whole move less daunting. It probably makes sense considering we are the best in the world.

Which is what’s happening right now, we’ve signed a new centre-back, considering we barely have any due to injuries. Currently we rely on a defensive midfielder, and anyone we deam can do it. Not ideal. January transfer is like heaven.

We walk around, talk about our lives a little bit as I try to make conversation more homey. Apparently she has a girlfriend who plays for PSG and I talk about Alexia, my other captain and long-time girlfriend. Who may (definitely) have a slight jealousy problem.

After a while of talking and walking, we make it to the gym and I announce the arrival.

“Everyone! As you know, we have a new person joining us! Make her feel welcome, included and we won’t have any problems. Got it?” They nod their heads going back to their respective activities as the new recruit smiles fondly at me, something which doesn’t go missed by Alexia.

I turn to face the CB.

“Now you, let’s get you headed for the locker room. I’ll show you your area and then you can go home for now. I’m assuming Jona has emailed you a schedule of everything?” She nods.

“Alright, now message me if you need anything and I’ll add you to the main group chat all of the girls are in.” She smiles and I lead her toward our changing rooms showing her where she’ll be.

“You can decorate a little bit, add some personality like some of the girls have. Anything you need can be kept here.” I point to a door at the end of the room.

“That’s the showers, obviously if you’re going anywhere after trainings. I know Patri likes to play music, so I suggest some strong noise-cancelling headphones if you don’t like the music. Any questions?” She shakes her head, I smile.

“Well then, go home. Settle into the new apartment, Ale and I live pretty close to you. Same with Ingrid and Mapi, who are also willing to answer anything else you have in mind.”

I pause.

“Now, if that girlfriend of yours ever comes to visit I’d like to meet her, I know it seems straightforward but I do like meeting new people.” I notice the recruit blushing, and pat her shoulder before leaving.

- - - - -

Over the next couple days, I ensure the new defender is fitting in well and she is. Hanging out with Ingrid and Frido but also Keira and Aitana, it’s good to see.

Alexia might think differently. I noticed her getting worked up over something but I can’t imagine what. I can but I don’t know how when a quick instagram search could cease any of her worries. She’s too straight headed for that.

It’s after training when I see her approach, I’m speaking on tactics in the locker room when Alexia slides in next to me, her arm wrapping protectively around my waist. I smirk then hear what she has to say.

“Ready to go home amor?” She says, kissing my neck softly, something she’d rarely do in such a public setting. I stifle my laugh nodding and saying my goodbyes to everyone else, getting in the passenger seat of our car as Alexia insists she always drives.

I sigh, her jaw is set and I can tell something is wrong.

“Alexia, qué pasó?” She shakes her head, her knuckles growing whiter as she grips the steering wheel. I know I can’t do anything but I seem so helpless at the moment.

It’s a completely different change from the confidence in the change rooms to now not even speaking to me.

We head inside without saying a word, I head straight for a shower to hopefully get a grip on where the conversation with Alexia will lead.

- - - - -

After the shower, I walk into the living room and Alexia is sat with her legs crossed in the couch, staring straight ahead at the blank TV. I break the silence.

“If you stare at the poor TV any longer I think it’ll break.” She doesn’t say anything, just nodding slowly her eyes darting toward me before back in front.

“I will not do this Ale. You need to tell me your feelings or we can’t work this out.” She huffs leaning back.

“Lo siento, I just… missed you.” Her voice quiet, I nod in understanding, I spent a lot of time with the new defender.

“So in other words, you’re jealous?” She blows an air bubble between her lips. (do you guys know what i mean by that)

“Maybe.” I can barely hear her voice but I don’t need to.

“Well baby, nothing to worry about because A. she has a girlfriend and B. I love you more than anything. Never forget that. I’ll try make more time and maybe we can meet the new ones girlfriend when she comes to Spain.” She nods slowly.

“Sorry I acted this way.” I shake my head.

“No, it’s ok. I understand, I sort of put you aside. I’ve learnt and I’ll prioritise your feelings a little bit more in the future.” She nods, tears glistening in her eyes.

“Te amo Ale. Remember it forever.” I place my lips against hers, gently and full of passion that I’d never give to anyone but her.

When oxygen gets the best of us I rest my forehead against hers, breathing in everything of this moment. Oh, I never want to leave.

[6okuto]

GOOD WITH KIDS

ushijima, suna, hinata, akaashi, sakusa, kita, atsumu with their kids ^__< reader is never mentioned so u can imagine them as single dads if u'd like 🫶

USHIJIMA’s tall, to say the least. his daughter finds this incredibly beneficial to her every few days. all she has to do is walk up to his spot on the couch and look a little fidgety, biting her bottom lip, for wakatoshi to smile. “is something high up again?” “yeah…the cereal’s on the top shelf again! i didn’t put it there last time though, i swear.” she furrows her brows as her dad stands up to his full height. “well, let’s get it down from there together, then.” he easily pulls her into his arms and she giggles, maneuvering her way to sit on his shoulders with practiced ease. “make sure not to bump your head,” he reminds her, slowly walking to the kitchen. “i won’t!” she carefully holds onto him, and wakatoshi’s glad she hasn’t figured out he’s the one who’s been putting things high up whenever she’s finished with them.

SUNA holds his daughter's hand, his phone with two tickets to the barbie movie open in the hand that's free. they had gotten ready together—rintarou had let her put her cutest pink clips into his hair, and made sure to get a shirt that matched the shade of her dress. he took her to buy a whole outfit for the occasion, from the dress to her bag to her shoes. the pair had taken photos and videos, one currently posted on his story that had her face out of view, but bow in her hair shown off. “can i get the barbie popcorn combo, too?” she asks in line. “yeah, you wanna get a photo with the barbie cut-out after?” “yeah, yeah! she looks so pretty.” rintarou hums and lets her swing their arms back and forth, careful not to hit the people around them. “i think you’re even prettier, though.”

HINATA has always supported his son in decorating and expressing himself, which is why when he wanted to decorate his room, he couldn’t say no, even with his lack of artistic skills. instead, they worked together to fill online shopping carts with different merchandise and furniture and got temporary wallpaper that would fit the bill. a couple of weeks later, and now shoyo finds himself sitting on the ground setting up a new desk, surrounded by boxes and different figures that will hopefully fill the bookshelf they built a few hours earlier. “dad?” “yeah?” “do you think i could get some of your team’s stuff, too?” “my—” shoyo fumbles with the screw in his hand in shock. “like, like your shirt? or something signed by uncle bokuto?” the question could make shoyo cry, he thinks, and he makes a noise of excited agreement. “of course you can! do you want to check my old high school stuff, too?”

AKAASHI’s a fan of thunderstorms. his daughter on the other hand, is not. so he’s made it a little game. they’re sitting together in a blanket fort, legs touching and hands on their lap.she fidgets slightly at the sight of the lightning, but starts to count out loud for the thunder. “one, two, three, four…” keiji joins and they watch each other carefully. at eight, the thunder rumbles the house and his daughter reaches over—not for a hug or comfort, but to try tickling her dad who does the same. she squeals as he reaches for her sides, and keiji laughs as she, maybe a little aggressively, tickles him back. when he picks her up to sit her on his lap, she yells, “no fair! that’s cheating!” between giggles and yelps. in mock indignation, keiji replies, “cheating? i would never do that.” yet stops anyway. his daughter jokingly huffs. “i’m gonna get you next time.”

SAKUSA’s eyes widen as his daughter runs up to him, only to hide behind his legs. instinctively, his hand moves to hold and comfort her as he scans the park for what could have scared her. it’s when two large dogs bark that he spots them playing with each other and the dots click. he turns to squat in front of his daughter, who looks at him with wide eyes and a pout that make his heart clench. “dad,” she says softly. “hm?” “do you think i could play with the dogs? they’re…big.” she sends a pointed look to other kids walking up to the owner and their pets. kiyoomi hums again and gently rubs her shoulder. “ it looks like they’re being nice with the other kids, right? why don’t we go together and ask?” his daughter nods and grabs his hand, and kiyoomi’s eyes crinkle as he smiles before walking over with her.

KITA’s son is adamant that his bed is the comfiest in the house. shinsuke’s happy to hear this, of course, even if he’d have to personally disagree. he’s about to rest in your own bedroom, when his son catches up to him in the hall. “do you wanna try my bed?” shinsuke blinks, processing the question. he laughs a little. “i don’t think i’d fit properly.” “we can both fit!” and before he can object, his son is pulling him into his bedroom and onto the bed that was definitely not made for the two of them to fit. but something tells him that he won’t get out of this easily, so he lets out a breathy laugh before crawling in, leaving space for his son to curl in with him. his back will probably hurt a little when he wakes up, but he pulls the blanket over the both of them anyway with a soft smile on his face.

ATSUMU rolls up his sleeves and pretends to crack his knuckles. “y’ready?” “yeah!” his son says with determination. the carnival game worker counts down, and they both get ready with their basketballs. the grand prize, the largest teddy bear, was locked behind a rigged basketball hoop, but the two of them refused to give up. and apparently atsumu’s mind is on another level right now, honed in as he succeeds with most of his tosses, and gets the last needed shot for that damned bear. “dad! you did it!” his son cheers and excitedly pulls on his arm. “ha! and who said i couldn’t play a sport other than volleyball?” “...no one?” “aw, come on,” atsumu whines, “work with me here!” the both of them are play-fighting when the worker manages to get the bear down and hand it to them. there’s huge grins on both of their faces as they shout a thanks. “can i put it in my room?” “and hide this success? it’s goin’ in the living room.” “you can do that?” “majority of the family says yes, we can do anythin’.”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons cause I love this chaotic little family

I’ve seen a lot of people say Ambrosius is a morning person and Bal is a night owl 

And I have to respectfully disagree 

Will Bal pull some all-nighters in the lab? Absolutely 

But this man is the most early bird coded character I’ve ever seen in my entire life 

When he isn't fully invested in a project he can't stay up past 10 pm

He wakes up at 6 am refreshed and barely needs caffeine 

I’ve also seen a lot of people say he’s a dedicated coffee drinker but something about this man screams “Coffee gives me migraines” 

Ambrosius on the other hand 

That’s an insomniac if I’ve ever seen one 

He’ll get ready for bed around 9 and then stay up til 3 in the morning

Poor babe needs coffee in an IV

He used to wake up really early back in the institute cause he was forced to run a mile every minute he was late to class 

And he’s a heavy sleeper so after the wall came down and he quit being a knight he wouldn't wake up before 1 pm even with Bals help 

And Nimona is just as bad 

Most nights Ambrosius will leave the room because he moves a lot when he can’t sleep and Bal is a light sleeper 

He’ll sit in the living room watching tv while trying to sleep and most of the time Nimona will join him 

Every once and a while Bal will find them laying on top of each other on the couch and will take them back to their respective beds 

And if you’re wondering what their favorite show to watch together is it’s those house-flipping shows 

But not for the reason you think

Most people watch those shows cause they think it’s inspiring 

Ambrosius and Nimona talk about how terrible these people are at their jobs  

They’ll go on hour-long rants about how these people are stripping the houses of everything that made them a home

(Ambrosius is a sentimental bitch and would be a maximalist after leaving the institute prove me wrong)

When Nimona is bored she’ll go into the city disguised as Bal or Ambrosius 

And she’ll fool literally everyone it’s a pretty common occurrence for the boys to be at home and then they hear the other swearing like a damn sailor because there are already news articles about it

The only people she can’t fool are Bal and Ambrosius 

Bal will shut them down almost immediately 

They’ll walk over to Bal and won’t even get a word out before Bal says “Shift back Nim you’re freaking me out”

They always make a big deal out of being caught making big decorations like “I’m getting better and one day I’ll fool you” 

And he’ll hum in agreement but he knows that it doesn’t matter how good he gets or how observant he is he’ll be able to fully copy every little detail 

The details that Bal has spent the past decade and a half remembering  

You know the little things like how he can’t say Bal or Nimona’s names without smiling even when he’s pissed

Or how he scrunches his nose when he laughs 

Ambrosius always acts like Nimona tricked him

He’ll let them get comfortable in the character and then he’ll drop the bomb 

Something small and inconspicuous like “Hey Nim do you want pizza for dinner?” and they’ll excitedly proclaim “Hell yeah pizza!” 

It takes them a second to realize they’ve been played and when they do they never make a big deal about it

They normally just mumble a curse or two and walk away with their tail between their legs (literally)

The first time Nimona tried to trick Ambrosius was when he was having one of those days 

You know the days when even breathing feels like a fucking battle

This was in a really awkward period too

Like right after Nimona and Ambrosius started trusting each other but right before they really started to get to know each other 

But she knew the boys well enough to know if Bal came home to a sad Ambrosius then he’d be in a bad mood for the rest of the day 

And she knows that the only thing that can cure a mopey Ambrosius is Bal 

She walked into the room and started talking to Ambrosius and was kind of surprised and a little bit peeved about how well she was fooling him

Until he said “You can drop the act Nim I know it’s you” 

They kind of just sat in that silence for a minute until Nimona said the first thing that came to her mind 

“You want me to find my sax?” 

Bal shouldn’t have been surprised to find Nimona disguised as him serenading Ambrosius with the worst freestyle jazz he’s ever heard (which is saying something)

He didn’t even say anything he just sat down and cuddled the love of his life while watching their kid try and play the sax while breakdancing

[kindasleepywriter]

Public Displays of Affection - Azriel x Reader

Chapter summary: This is a Christmas themed oneshot of a series I'm working on (Bird of Prey masterlist), but it can be read as a standalone! It's set a few years after the end of the series, but it doesn't spoil the main story.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of fluff

Word count: 850.

Sidenote: Accidentally posted this on my personal blog at first! this is the re-upload on the right account <3

Winter Solstice was rapidly approaching. If the bite of frost in the air didn’t remind you of the fact, the extravagant amount of decoration in the House of Wind did. They’d started appearing a few weeks ago and now covered most surfaces, admittedly bringing you more joy than you let on every time you went to the library to pick up a new book. Solstice felt bittersweet to you, but you let yourself enjoy the parts you could.

You watched Azriel as you leaned in the door frame of the sitting room as he helped Feyre and Nyx make what looked to be garlands, although the latter’s work might be considered an abstract representation of one. You smiled gently as the ease with which he laughed with the others. You were glad he’d become more confident alongside you.

He glanced up, as if reading your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat at the wide smile he gave you, still so affected at the sight of him, despite the years. He always could manage to get your heart racing from the most innocent of gestures. When you thought back, you could see it clear as day: he was always the one you were meant to be with from the first day, despite what you felt then. No one had managed to break through the walls that had numbed you to the world except for him, even if it had initially been through confrontations of anger.  

Azriel whispered a few words to Nyx, the young boy giggling at his words and rushing to his mother’s side, before walking over to your side, circling around you so he held your back against his chest. He swayed slowly with you to the soft beat of the music surrounding you both.

“Penny for your thought?” he whispered, soft breath tickling the skin behind your ear.

“I don’t think you can afford all of them right now, Az,” you chuckled, turning your face to his and raising a hand to brush a wisp of hair straying on his forehead. “But I’ll give you one for free if you want.”

He hummed, eyes fixed on yours and his hands rubbing slow circles against your hips. “I’d empty Rhys’ entire vault for you, love, don’t tempt me to do so,” he said. You laughed, turning to put your hands around his neck, his hands finding their way around you and flattening against your shirt in the sensitive spot between your wings. You sighed in contentment, a shiver running down your spine. “But I’ll happily take what you’ll give me.” he continued quietly.

“I’m thinking that I never truly thanked you for sticking by me through it all.” You kissed him softly, pulling your head back with a chuckle as he tried to follow. “I couldn’t have hoped for someone more perfect than you.”

You felt his grin against your lips, smiling back at you. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours. “And I’ve been the luckiest in Prythian to see you shine, my love.”

You went to speak again, but your words were interrupted by the sound of something whizzing through the air, but no sound of impact came, only a smacking sound across the room and an undignified squeak. Azriel did not move from his position, arms tightening, but rolled his eyes and raised his voice. “Cass, if you don’t put down that second wreath you’re holding, I won’t hesitate to tell Nesta what you got her for Solstice this instant.”

A feminine laugh rang across the room.

“You guys are no fun together.” Cassian muttered, more laughs ringing from the others around you. Your cheeks reddened and tension ran through you, not unnoticed by Azriel. “Want to get out of here?” he whispered.

“Please, before he decided to move on to more intimidating weapons.” you snickered.

“I’ll have you know that wreaths are perfectly acceptable projectiles when you two lovebirds are being-” You were grateful for Cassian’s indignant protest being cut off by darkness surrounding you, you and your lover disappearing to your shared bedroom.

Your wings spread on instinct when your feet caught solid ground, and you immediately caged Azriel against the wall, your hands resting on his defined pectorals. “I believe Cassian might need to learn to be grateful of our discretion in public, love.” he muttered playfully.

“We could always show him exactly how much we restrain ourselves in their presence,” you purred. You were always more playful when you two were alone. “I’m sure a little demonstration might remind him of the fact.”

You shuddered as his hands trailed down your back, over your rear and to your thighs, tapping them slightly, and you jumped with a single beat of your wings, obliging his silent demand. He caught you, spinning you around and leading you to the bed, softly laying you down.

Not a single word was uttered about your public displays of affection again.

If I'm being honest, I was planning on finishing up Bird of Prey before Christmas and was hoping to post this as a follow-up, but finals got the best of me. I should be posting more during the holidays!

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

[im-a-wonderling]

White Moves First, Part 8 ~ Edmund Pevensie

In another life, y'all, I get to stay at home and drink tea and nibble on snacks while I furiously type my stories like there's no tomorrow. In this life, sadly, I am a student who must spend her time writing chemistry lab reports, giving immunology presentations, and settling the occasional choir drama. Sorry for the three-month-long wait, I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Despite the distance between their two lands, Y/N, princess of Archenland, is close friends with King Edmund the Just. But when push comes to shove, will friendship turn to more?

Warnings: none, other than Mr. Rabbitdash being his creepy prince self

Word count: 5.8k

White Moves First masterlist | Main masterlist

Who knew wedding feasts were so overwhelming?

Moments after Edmund and I entered the candlelit hall, my father grabbed my arm, tugging me away from Edmund before I realized what was happening. “There is Lord Dalor, you must greet him and thank him for his attendance.” 

And so it began. 

Everywhere I turned, there was another courtier I’d never seen before congratulating me. I politely listened, trying to keep my eyes on the speaking courtiers instead of Queen Susan’s decorations. She’d done a wonderful job, placing the lavender arrangements I’d chosen in beautiful places, along with pale green and purple ribbons flowing in every direction like a spiderweb. 

I thanked everyone until I was blue in the face. Pretending to be an elated bride got steadily more difficult, and the buzzing of the nobles talking all around me was slowly driving me mad. 

Lord Bote held his goblet aloft, allowing him to place his other hand on his chest in genuine gladness.  “Truly, I was so honored by your invitation to your nuptials.”

Forcing a smile, I nodded. “My father insisted on it personally.” A good reply. Flattering, succinct, and upholding of the impression that I’d been the one to invite any of these people to my wedding. 

Lord Bote beamed. “I do suppose that your–” The rest of his words were drowned out as my father—all the way at the end of the hall, standing at the king’s seat of honor—stood up and called for everyone’s attention. 

My heart sank. What could the king possibly have in mind now?

“Friends, we are so honored by your presence here!” King Loon’s voice boomed. A large cheer rang through the room as goblets were lifted in the air. The king beamed at all his guests, basking in all the attention. “Today is the day of love’s celebration!” A second cheer rose, louder than the first.

“He means his celebration,” muttered a familiar voice beside me, and I slid an arm around Edmund’s back, grateful to have something to hold onto. Edmund wrapped his arm around me in kind, and I squashed the urge to lean into the comfort which was rare on this day. 

“But now is a time of great honor for the couple, an auspicious moment that Archenland has the privilege of witnessing.” My father held out his hand to us. “King Edmund, take your bride onto the dance floor.”

I looked up into Edmund’s face, my high strung heart loosening a bit at the sight I knew so well. 

Edmund’s lips hovered beside my ear. “Shall we?”

I nodded, taking the hand he offered to me as he led me into the center of the dance floor. The music began, sending Edmund into a low bow. I curtsied.

Edmund’s hand slid across my side, centering on my low back to push me closer to him than I’d ever been during a dance. My first impulse was to pull away, as a lifetime of instruction on deportment had instilled in me. But Edmund and I weren’t merely friends anymore. Marriage changed the little courtesies forming the perimeter of our friendship. I tipped my head back to look at Edmund’s face, trying not to blush at how close it was to my own. 

“Finally,” I said quietly as we began the slow steps of a waltz. “I can take a breath.”

I could see the exhaustion tugging at Edmund’s eyes. “Won’t be long now,” he said softly. “Once they’ve all had their fill of ogling the new couple, we can leave.” 

Oh, how I couldn’t wait to do so. All the staring, the comments, the festivity that filled the room. All these courtiers were celebrating because their princess wed, none of whom knew Edmund well and none of whom knew of the narrow escape Edmund was for me. I knew no one in this room would be celebrating as grandly if it were a Calormen prince currently dancing with me for the first time as my husband, just as I knew none of them would’ve outright protested the arrangement. 

I shook my head.

Thirty minutes. For the rest of my life, I would never underestimate the importance of a half-hour.

The cause of my marriage predicament caught my eye, the Calormen prince lingering at the entrance to the hall, watching us with the posture of indifference, but the eyes of a hunter. 

I gulped. “Rabadash is by the door.”

When we were younger, Edmund pursed his lips whenever he held back words he wanted to say. As he got older, he outgrew the habit, but occasionally, I could see the slightest twitch in the muscles of his cheek. If one didn’t know him, they might think he was fighting a smile instead of the urge to speak. Edmund spun us, his eyes lifting for a moment as he confirmed what I’d just told him, and his cheek muscles twitched.

I longed to know what it was he wasn’t saying. 

Edmund spun us again so that he was once more in between the Calormen prince and I, as if to shield me from any possible harm from that predatory stare. 

“Will he never leave us alone?” I said in despair. 

Edmund’s eyes were fixated on me, his freckles standing out even in the low candlelight of the hall. “When the song ends,” he whispered, “I’m going to dip you.”

I glanced at the prince again, trying to ignore the fear worming in my gut. “And kiss me.”

Edmund grinned, and for a moment, I believed it was the idea of kissing me that made him look so eager and lively. “Adding to my strategies again?” he asked, with fondness that was even better than the eagerness. 

“I can hardly help it,” I replied. “If there’s room for improvement, I should speak up, should I not?”

“You should indeed.” Edmund twirled me and then brought me back to him, even closer than before, making me crane my neck to keep eye contact. “Since you’re the expert, what kind of kiss would you recommend?”

My heart stuttered as I lowered my gaze to the ruffles of Edmund’s doublet, suddenly bashful. “I’m hardly an expert,” I hedged. “After all, my first was only a few hours ago.”

Did I imagine the tremble in the hand at my back? “But you are the lady,” Edmund replied. “Ladies should dictate what kisses they want…so they’re expecting them.”

“But a wife expects any and all kisses from her husband, does she not?”

Edmund’s lips parted for a moment, his chest rising and falling in a quick breath. “I don’t know, I’d have to ask mine.”

I maintained eye contact, trying to uncover the unspoken words. What was he trying to say? Was he asking permission? Or was there something deeper?

Eyes never leaving mine, Edmund gently braced his hands on my hips before lifting me into the air. With his hands holding me up and my feet apart from the floor, my lungs couldn’t quite draw breath. Even once he set me down to stand on my own merit, the breathlessness didn’t subside. 

Edmund’s Adam’s apple bobbed, clueing me into the nerves he felt. My friend and husband was someone who sought out knowledge, who liked to know what to expect, who preferred a foundation of things he could understand. Perhaps, in asking my opinion on what kiss he should give, the man was looking for that same foundation. 

I didn’t know what kind of kiss was most likely to discourage Rabadash. I had a sinking feeling that if Rabadash wanted to be encouraged, anything could fuel his fire. But how did I want Edmund to kiss me? Well, I wanted him to kiss me the way he had earlier. Like he meant it. Like there was no one else in the world he’d rather kiss, even if a roomful of people watched. 

“I want you–” My voice was hoarse, so I cleared it, trying not to lose my nerve. “I want you to kiss me slowly.” Edmund met my gaze, and my heart jumped in my throat. His gaze had no right being that intense, it scrambled the words in my brain. “If…if you really wanted to kiss me,” I stammered, “i-if we really want Rabadash to think we’re in love, then you should take your time. Like there’s nowhere else you want to be.”

The only answer I got at first was a slow nod. Had I overdone it? Was he uncomfortable? 

But when Edmund finally spoke, it wasn’t a change of the subject or a rejection. “What else?”

I squeezed the steady, calloused hand in mine. “Put your hand on the back of my head as you dip me…like I’m precious to you.”

“You are,” Edmund said immediately, then blinked as if surprised by his own words. He seemed to waver on taking it back before quietly repeating himself, sounding more sure now. “You are.”

I smiled warmly, to ease the striking caution I saw on his face. I knew what he meant. Edmund was precious to me too, especially when I could tell that his mind was attempting to untangle his uncertainty in this unfamiliar situation. “Don’t open your eyes right away afterwards, no matter how everyone reacts. Just…stay in the moment with me.” I waited for Edmund’s response, too terrified to keep talking. 

The corners of his mouth turned up, and underneath my hand, his shoulder relaxed. “It’s easy to stay in this moment. With you.”

Suddenly, looking up at Edmund's almost-smiling face, I wanted the song to end. 

In the way my father was basking in attention, I’d been basking in the proximity with Edmund, dreading the moment the song would end and separate us again to face the sycophantic crowd. And now I wanted the music to trail off, to lean backwards and know that Edmund’s arms would be there to catch me and his lips to greet me.

By Aslan, what was happening to me?

Now I was more nervous than before. This wedding was confusing, in every possible way, and also not anything close to what I expected. 

As a princess, as a spare for the throne, I’d never held the power of choice, but even if that luxury had been mine, I never would’ve dared to presume my groom would be a king, and King Edmund at that.

I also never expected a wedding to happen so quickly. Royals were sometimes engaged as children, having almost a decade to get used to the idea of marriage. Even if engagements were sudden, royal weddings didn’t come together almost overnight as this one had. 

And my mother wasn’t here.

She’d been gone for years, taken from me so long ago that the idea of an alive mother seemed more foreign than having a dead one. This was an event where she would’ve been hosting. She would’ve been the one picking the decorations, ensuring the food was prepared, standing at my father’s side as they celebrated their daughter’s good fortune. Perhaps that was why my father kept moving amongst the crowd, never staying in one place for too long lest the grief could catch up with him. Perhaps he was right by having me try on my mother’s dress. All he wanted was for her to be here tonight. 

Or was that too generous an assessment? 

“What’s wrong?”

Shaken from my reverie, I came back to the present moment, blushing a bit when I realized I’d just done the opposite of what I told Edmund to do. “I was just thinking about my mom.” I poked my tongue against the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out whether or not to continue.

“Thinking what?”

“Thinking…about how my dad must feel.” I gave a half-hearted smile. “If your daughter is getting married…it’d make sense that you’d miss your wife, right?”

Edmund didn’t answer, looking characteristically thoughtful. But when he replied, it wasn’t an affirmation or denial. “Do you think she would’ve liked me?” 

“I…” My cheeks flushed. I didn’t remember her well enough to know. “I hope so.”

The responding expression wasn’t confused or pitying. It was discerning. All my life, I’d been a transparent princess—I existed. Ignored as easily as I was made a show of. Unreachable by rank. Mysterious by design. 

But when Edmund was in the room, I did more than exist.

I was corporeal. I had feelings. I carried importance. 

The music grew softer. Edmund let go of my hand to brace his at the base of my neck, guiding me backwards. Resting my hands on his shoulders, I allowed him to hold my weight. 

He kissed me, not moving from the dip position. 

At first, my mind raced. Were my lips too tense? Did I need to relax? Or was I supposed to move my lips? Edmund was moving his lips a little. I tried to match the movement, but it was peculiar. My hands tightened on his neck, my body starting to panic a bit at still being held above the floor. Would Edmund’s arms get tired? Would he drop me? 

And then Edmund’s tongue brushed my bottom lip, and I stopped thinking. My body loosened, like I was silver softening in a smith’s flame, and, by Aslan, Edmund held me like I was something precious. 

Slowly, without breaking the kiss, Edmund lifted me up again, setting me on my feet just as the warmth of his face disappeared from mine. I opened my eyes, too curious to help myself.

Edmund’s eyes stayed closed, just as I’d instructed, and his brow was furrowed as though he were in pain. I gazed at his pale complexion, drinking in the noble bridge of his nose and the dark locks of hair resting on his forehead. Then I noticed his lips looked pinker than normal. Was that from our kiss? 

Applause broke my trance, and Edmund’s eyes opened, a warm smile crossing his face. 

“We survived,” I said lightly, biting my lip to keep from grinning in too undignified a way for a princess. 

Someone in the crowd let out a particularly loud cheer, and Edmund’s cheek muscles twitched again. “Twenty more minutes,” he said quietly, “and I’m tying the tablecloths together to get us out of here through the window.”

I laughed, marveling at Edmund’s ability to put me at ease. “I happen to be an excellent knotter.”

“One of the many perks of marrying you,” Edmund said before stepping away to hold out his hand. I took it, allowing him to guide me off the dance floor. We were not among the courtiers for a moment before my father came and whisked Edmund away, leaving me behind. 

I frowned at my father’s rush to separate us but quickly had to rearrange my face into a gracious smile as Lord Mor appeared out of nowhere. With no polite way to extricate myself from the situation, I had no choice but to listen to his inane chatter while searching the crowd to see where my husband had gone. 

“Excuse me, Lord Mor,” Cor said politely, appearing at my side. “May I speak with my sister for a moment?”

Lord Mor bowed cheerfully and left. 

“Thanks for the save,” I mumbled, turning to face my oldest brother. 

“What are brothers for?” Cor smiled. 

An arm slung around my waist in a casual move only the other twin would do. “Next time you dance with your husband,” Corin said, lifting his goblet, “tell him to save the kiss for later.” 

I blushed furiously. Funny, I’d only been thinking of Rabadash seeing our kiss, not the hall full of others and certainly not my brothers. What would a happily married woman say to her brothers after comments like that? When the women of court were married, they seemed to laud their status and knowledge as married women over all the unmarried ones. “When the two of you fall in love, you’ll understand.” I tried to say it as loftily as the other women did, but my brothers just gave me strange looks. 

“Gross,” Cor said, his face pinched. 

“Heads up,” Corin said, his tone more serious than I knew to expect from him. He gestured with his goblet, and the three of us looked over to see Edmund deep in discussion with my father. King Loon looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, and I momentarily wondered how many goblets of wine he’d drunk. Or perhaps it was the court’s undivided attention he was drunk on. 

Edmund, on the other hand, stood rigidly; the only part of him moving was his fist at his side, which clenched and unclenched repeatedly. 

Immediately, the three of us whisked across the room to join the kings. “Father, you haven’t spoken to Lord Mor,” Cor quickly said as I slid my hand across Edmund’s middle, trying to comfort my friend. 

The king grinned, clapped Edmund on the shoulder, and loudly said, “we’ll discuss it tomorrow, my boy!” And with that, my father allowed Cor to lead him away with Corin on the other side. 

“What was that about?” I asked Edmund, twisting around so that I stood in front of him.

Edmund worked his jaw, staring the way my father had gone. “I’ll tell you later.” The tense set of his face made my chest ache a little. He’d given so much to me and my father and my people. All day, he’d done what was expected of him, with no complaint. 

All of it was too much, and more than enough for tonight. 

Winding my hand through his, I tugged him gently into a walk beside me. 

“Where are we going?” Edmund asked. 

“Bed,” was all I answered. 

-

It was customary for a husband to bring his wife to his own bedchamber, but Edmund was glad when Y/N instead brought him to a different guest chamber. It was almost identical to his, but minus the possessions strewn about the furniture and carpet. He’d have to pack those in the morning before they left for Narnia. 

“I have never been so tired in my life,” Edmund groaned, falling onto the bed. “Are weddings always like this?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Y/N fell onto the bed beside him. “Ours is the first I’ve ever been to.”

“I would be satisfied if it was the only one I’d ever have to go to.”

Y/N huffed in agreement. 

Oh, it was a relief to lay down. It was as if Edmund’s body exhaled out the tension of the day, finally allowing him to relax. Before dancing together, King Loon had directed Edmund through an endless stream of sycophantic men and women. It wouldn’t have been so terrible, if only King Loon had allowed Edmund and Y/N to discourse with the guests together, but it almost seemed as if the king were trying to keep Edmund away from his daughter.

Edmund shook his head. No, it was far more likely that King Loon intended to take advantage of having Y/N and Edmund around while he still could.

Then the dancing.

Dancing with Y/N was much more pleasant than talking with people he didn’t know, but then again, doing anything with Y/N was much more pleasant than most anything else. 

Including foiling a certain prince.

Yes, that was very pleasant. 

It’s too bad there were no teams in chess. Edmund had no doubt that he and Y/N would decimate any opponents. He sat up, looking at his wife. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, for what felt like the tenth time that day. He could hardly help it if their wedding warranted constant check-ins with his friend’s wellbeing. If the wedding had truly been an event born of ‘love’s celebration’, he’d be able to read into Y/N’s smiles and expressions of excitement. But with the pretenses they were holding up, Edmund couldn’t assume anything. 

But when Y/N smiled at him just now, it wasn’t like the smiles of the day. Her lips spread into a soft smile, setting Edmund at ease in the way only Y/N could. “I’m good. Are you?”

“Better now,” Edmund answered honestly. Here, in the privacy of their temporary chamber, they didn’t have to force anything. They could just be who they were. 

Too soon, the happy moment ended as Y/N squeezed Edmund’s shoulder and got to her feet. “Time to get ready for bed.” Edmund groaned, too comfortable to move. Astonishing, really, how exhaustion reordered one’s priorities. 

Y/N stood, unclasping her necklace and pulling out her earrings before placing the jewelry on the bedside table. Edmund watched her slide his old signet ring off her ring finger and back onto her pointer finger. Perhaps he should’ve felt slighted by the action, but really, she was right, it looked much better on that finger. 

“Um…” Y/N shifted, fiddling with the laces on the back of her dress. “Do you mind?” 

Edmund stared at her reddening cheeks, confused at first by what she meant. Then realization dawned, and his own flared. “Ah, of course.” He quickly jumped off the bed, walking around to meet her. 

Y/N turned around, presenting the laces to him. Edmund nervously wiped his hands on his pants, staring at the neat knot at the bottom of the bodice, right where his hand had been while dancing. Funny, he hadn’t remembered feeling the knot there. 

Taking a quick breath, he started on the knot. The little cords were tinier than Edmund was accustomed to working with. On a ship, the knots of a rope were much thicker and easier to undo, even if they did cause ropeburn. His fingers felt awkwardly large as he tried to undo it, but the knot held firm. “You’re too good a knotter,” he grumbled. 

Y/N’s delicate shoulders shook, from shivers or laughter, Edmund couldn’t tell until she spoke with great mirth. “Having a spot of trouble?”

“Blast,” Edmund muttered, and her shoulders shook a little again. “How secure does a dress need to be?” he groused, suddenly thankful that men’s fashion didn’t require a helper to get in and out of. No wonder Y/N had a designated lady’s maid, she had to do this every day, sometimes multiple times.

He tried to use his thumbnail to get some leverage on the knot, but it continued to make him look inadequate in front of his wife. Another minute, and he’d rip the damn dress apart out of pure frustration.

As soon as he thought the thought, his fingers slipped on the laces. Calm down, he told himself sternly. You’re a king, for crying out loud. Act like it. 

“You never told me what the problem with your dress was,” Edmund said. 

With his hands fidgeting with the knot at her back, he felt her spine stiffen. “It was nothing.”

“Y/N. Honesty.”

The princess let out a heavy sigh. Edmund could imagine her face, slightly irritated and anxious, weighing her words as he knew her to do. He wanted to know if he was right, if his mind could predict what she looked like, but he had a hunch this conversation would be easier for her without being face-to-face.

 “My father…wanted me to wear my mother’s dress.” Edmund’s fingers froze, the stubborn knot still in his grasp, as he waited for her to go on and attempted to control his anger with more CHARACTER than King Loon attempted to control Y/N. Y/N shifted her weight. “He said I was always meant to wear it.” 

“Did you like it?” Edmund asked with extreme care. “The dress?”

“It was pretty,” was her only answer.

“So you didn’t like it.”

Y/N’s hands slid down her skirt, her fingers sweeping across the fabric. “Not the way I like this one.”

Edmund nodded, satisfied. Finally, the knot gave, and he made quick work of the loops, freeing his wife at last. He turned away from her to face the wall, silently allowing her the privacy to step out of the dress. Then he looked down at his own clothes. Normally he slept in only a pair of sleep breeches, but doing that tonight felt indecent. So he simply took off his boots and fancy doublet, leaving his trousers and undershirt. Anything more could wait until they had a space of their own to solidify their nightly routine. 

He could still hear Y/N rustling about, so he stayed where he was, stifling a large yawn with his hand. The rustling continued. 

“I’m done,” Y/N finally announced, and Edmund turned to see her already sliding in between the covers of the bed. She fought a large yawn as she ran her fingers through her unbound hair.

Had her hair always been that long? It tumbled over halfway down her back, a few short pieces in the front to softly frame her face. Suddenly, the Archenland hairstyles peeved Edmund. Y/N should’ve always been wearing her hair this way. 

He reprimanded himself again. Not appropriate thoughts to have about his friend. 

He got into bed beside her, feeling glad he’d sent a note ahead to Cair Paravel to Peter to prepare the bedchamber where they would sleep. He couldn’t imagine bringing Y/N into the chamber he’d had for years in Cair Paravel. Literally. His mind couldn’t conjure the image of her walking in and staring at the organized chaos of Edmund’s things. 

The maids at Cair Paravel long ago learned not to disturb Edmund’s chambers for something as disruptive as cleaning. Once, they’d rearranged all of Edmund’s books from his ordered yet overflowing stacks onto his bookshelves, and Edmund nearly had an aneurysm. Sure, it looked messy to the outsider, but really it was an intricate system of information in the forms of books, parchment, and broken quills. An outsider would never be able to appreciate all the little marks on Edmund’s bedpost from Edmund’s attempts to master knife throwing just for the sake of knowing how to do it. 

The idea of bringing some mysterious wife into that space troubled Edmund, but he had a feeling that Y/N, his friend, would gladly stand next to him and learn knife-throwing. 

And grow more accomplished at it than he.

Nonetheless, Edmund requested Peter move all his parchment and books to a new study while having the furniture replaced and the chambers thoroughly cleaned. The only thing that Edmund had asked to remain was his solid gold chess set, a gift from a foreign dignitary whose name Edmund had forgotten. Y/N had never seen his chess set. Considering she always teased him for choosing to play black, he could already imagine the two of them chuckling over the black pieces being gold instead. 

“I can’t wait to see Narnia,” Y/N said suddenly, as if she’d been thinking similar thoughts. 

Edmund grinned up at the ceiling. “I can’t wait to show it to you.” What fun the two of them could have. He could show her the library and point out the best armchair by the window with just enough light in the evenings to read by. Oh, and she’d adore the sweet pastries he sometimes nicked from the kitchens while all the staff pretended not to see. And the best place to go in the castle to see the stars at night. The constellations would be the same as Y/N had grown up with. Maybe it’d make her a little less homesick on nights when she missed her homeland. 

They laid side-by-side in silence, and Edmund felt his eyes getting heavier and heavier. 

“What were you and my father talking about?” Y/N asked, as quiet and light as a flame. 

A flash of anger doused Edmund’s insides, waking him up immediately. He rolled to his side, propping his head up on his fist so that he could look down into her face. “Your father was asking when your coronation will be. He wanted to plan it for the day after tomorrow.” In Archenland. King Loon wanted to crown a Narnian monarch in Archenland’s hall. On a day’s notice. Nevermind the concern of crowning a queen in what wasn’t to be her new country, Y/N deserved more than a rushed and disorganized coronation. 

Y/N seemed to shrink into the comfort of her pillow, as if she wanted to be swallowed up by the soft down and feathers. “Oh.”

“Y/N?” He waited until Y/N looked at him with curious eyes. “Do you want to be a queen?”

Y/N’s expression was marble smooth, giving him no clues as to her thoughts. Finally, she said, “Narnia already has two queens.”

Edmund narrowed his eyes, trying to analyze her tone. “If you wished it, a coronation could easily be arranged. But…should you not wish it…remaining a princess would be…satisfactory.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, bestowing Edmund with her sudden humorous twinkle. “Satisfactory?”

“You know what I mean,” Edmund grunted, falling flat on his back, preferring the sight of the ceiling for his sanity.

But instead of leaving him to privately stave off embarrassment, Y/N turned onto her side, her thankfully serious face appearing in his view. “Shouldn’t this be a conversation between you and your siblings?”

“It will be. But I want to know what you want before I talk with them.” 

The princess seemed to digest this, her eyes drifting off to the side as she thought. She had this habit of puckering up her lips when she was deep in thought, Edmund saw it often when they played chess. Her mind was the most appealing part of her, so it was unfair that whenever she was lost in it, her lips furrowed together as if begging to be kissed. 

Edmund shook his head. Really? Was he coming down with a fever or something? 

“Is it even wise to have a foreign queen if there are already two?” Y/N asked. 

Edmund shrugged. “Susan and Lucy weren’t born in Narnia any more than you were.” Y/N glanced down at the bedding, her hair falling into her face. Without missing a beat, Edmund reached up to tuck the traitorous locks behind her ear. 

Y/N’s eyes fluttered as his fingers brushed the shell of her ear. “Do my duties change based on my title?” she asked. 

“Officially? Perhaps.” Edmund withdrew his hand. “Practically? Likely not.”

Y/N nodded once, meeting his eyes again. “Then I think I would like to remain a princess. Coronations sound scary.” 

Edmund sat up, and Y/N leaned back so they didn’t collide. He intended to ask her if she was sure, but the sight of her contented expression in front of her unbound hair across the pillow told him all he needed to know. Maybe later she would change her mind, and they would organize a coronation then, but for now? She didn’t want that, and Edmund wasn’t about to give her something she didn’t want. “Okay,” he said softly.

She smirked. “Though I still hope the Narnians might grant me a nickname like they have you and your siblings.”

“Oh, certainly,” Edmund replied. “Especially if they see your fear of coronations.” He gestured grandly. “Princess Y/N the cowardly.”

His friend snorted, running her hands through her unbound hair. “More like Princess Y/N the prudent.”

“Y/N the theatrical.”

“Y/N the eloquent.”

“Y/N the laughable.”

Y/N held up a finger. “Y/N the modest.”

“Y/N the loquacious.”

She burst into giggles at that one, a sound that was impossible not to love. Edmund chuckled, unable to help himself. 

Their laughter quieted as both settled into their pillows. “Blow the candles out?” Edmund asked. 

Y/N hummed, and both of them blew out the candles on their bedside tables. 

They didn’t talk anymore. The only sound in the darkness was the occasional rustle as Edmund or Y/N changed position. 

Edmund had never shared a bed before. Was Y/N a light sleeper? Would adjusting his position wake her up? Edmund’d never been able to fall asleep quickly; his mind was too active. What if Y/N didn’t feel comfortable falling asleep until he was asleep?

Oh, Aslan, what if Edmund snored? He didn’t think he could ever live it down if he snored and she couldn’t sleep because of it. If he did snore, they’d have to sleep in different bedrooms. Maybe they needed to do that anyways. Would Y/N prefer her own room at Cair Paravel? Would she tell him if she did, or would she simply follow his lead? Maybe Edmund needed to just assume she would prefer a different room. But what if she found it insulting? In the morning, he could ask her, she had promised him honesty if he asked for it. 

There, it was settled. He’d ask in the morning.

Oh, he was an unthinking moron. He should’ve asked her before they settled in to sleep tonight. But then again, he didn’t doubt that the Archenland court and staff would gossip wildly if they knew Y/N and Edmund slept in different rooms on their wedding night. The staff at Cair Paravel would be much more understanding, so maybe they needed to wait at least until they were in Narnia. 

“Edmund?” Y/N said tentatively into the darkness. 

“Yes?” 

“Remember when you promised to do whatever I requested?”

“Yes.” Oh no, was she about to ask for a different room? Edmund decided he would be the one to leave. He didn’t want her walking around the halls on her wedding night, people were much more likely to question her than him. 

“Will you…will you hug me?” 

Edmund blinked. “Of course.” He shuffled over to her, and Y/N shuffled into his arms before he could decide on the logistics of hugging while horizontal. 

His right arm acted as a pillow for Y/N’s head while his left curled around her back, holding her close. His fingers unintentionally tangled up in her hair, and it felt exactly as he’d expected. Y/N tucked her head just underneath his chin, the tip of her nose brushing the hollow of his throat. He rubbed her back gently, wanting to reassure her. 

This was…surprisingly nice. Sure, maybe Edmund’s arm would fall asleep with Y/N laying on it, but until it fell asleep, it was very comforting. Y/N seemed to agree. He felt rather than heard the long exhale from Y/N’s body as she nestled into his embrace.

When he sleepily laid back a little so he wasn’t directly on his side, somehow Y/N’s head ended up in the crook of his neck. The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was Y/N’s hand slowly coming to rest on his chest.

-

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

White Moves First tag list:

@thesecretlifeofpenguins @read-just-cant @chesh-ire-cat @emotionallyattachedteen @cassini-among-the-stars @uncontainedsmiles @mastermasterlist1p1 @goldfishinpainttubes @silverowl102 @daisyslife

[tropes-and-tales]

My Best Friend’s Girl, Part Seven

Characters:  Santiago “Pope” Garcia and F!Reader

WC:  4302

Other Pieces:  This is part of a series, which can be found here.

CW:  Angst (oblique talk of addiction).  Smut (PiV, protected; implied oral, m!receiving; light roleplay).  18+ only.

AN:  As proofed as anything I publish here, which is to say:  this is full of typos.

Six months. That’s how long you have to wait for Santiago to come home.  He has to run out his contract, wrap up his loose ends in Colombia while you wait for him in Florida.

You’re busy, of course.  You fill your hours – you work on the edits for your second book, you consult on the script based on your memoir.  You hang out with friends.  You work on your house, stripping paint and refinishing the built-in wood features of your home.  Slowly, the glory of the original home emerges, and you start to get furniture, start to decorate.

There’s a big fireplace in the living room, and you set framed pictures along the mantel. A picture of you and your father. One of you on the Appalachian Trail, a nice selfie you managed to take as you summitted Mount Greylock.

The latest photo is one of you and Santiago – he had asked a passerby to take it on one of your weekends out in Medellín, in one of the city squares bursting with color. At the last second, right before the photo was snapped, Santi had turned to kiss your cheek, and the captured moment is beautiful:  his head turned, his lovely profile, and you facing the camera with a look of pleased surprise.

You know you’re in the honeymoon period.  You’ve never been in a relationship that lasted longer than a few months, so you’re a little apprehensive about what will happen when he finally moves back to the U.S.  Maybe he’ll get bored of you.  Maybe he’ll find someone better.  He’s never been in a long-term relationship either, and you worry that he’s too used to being a tomcat to settle down. 

It’s a million little doubts circling your mind each night, and sometimes you struggle to fall asleep, worry gnawing at you.

But if your traitorous brain keeps telling you that it won’t work out, it’s your gut – which has never led you astray – that reminds you how solid Santiago is. How perfect for you.  He’s not perfect, of course, and neither are you – you both have dark pasts, and insecurities – but when you really think about your time with him, you feel nothing but a steady, solid sort of love.

So all you have to do is wait.  It’s the longest six months of your life.

-----

Sara gives birth in September.  She and Frankie – they have a daughter now.  Amelia is a scowling, red-faced little thing, and when you go to visit with Benny and Will, it’s curious how little you feel.  Newborns, in general, make you nervous.  They are such soft creatures, seem so easily breakable.  But when you stand there and gaze down into the bassinet, you feel…nothing.

If someone would have told you that you’d be here, gazing down at Frankie’s baby that he had with another woman and feeling not an iota of angst, you wouldn’t have believed them.  You can still remember the pain of when Frankie started dating Sara, when they got engaged…and now your heart is made of tougher stuff.

Things are still a little tense between you and Frankie.  You have spoken here and there, after that ugly showing when you told him about you and Santi.  There’s a reserve.  The air gets chilly when the two of you speak to each other.  Another worry, that:  Frankie and Santi are best friends, and even though Frankie is married with a kid now, you still remain a shadow between them.  

You try to send out opening salvos to healing the rift between you.  You try to laugh off the awkward silences when you go to visit them with their new baby.  You ask a million questions about Amelia, show more interest than you really have. You tacitly ignore Frankie when he makes little jabbing comments meant to needle you, and you study him on the sly.

You think Santi is right.  There is something wrong with Frankie.  It’s more than marital stress or the stress of being a new parent.  It’s more than sleepless nights due to every-other-hour feedings.

You are naïve in many ways, but you know a bit about addicts.  At the center for troubled teens, there were plenty of addicts:  every shade and variety, from casual weed-smokers to full-on meth or crack addicts.  You’ve seen people in active withdrawal, and you’ve seen people with some sobriety, and you’ve seen people currently using, those able to smuggle in their drug of choice. 

You can’t say quite what you think Frankie is on, but you are certain he’s on something.  Something that keys him up, makes him buoyant and fun for a moment, then turns him sulky and irritable.  Some stimulant.  Meth? Coke? 

Maybe there’s no room left in your heart to love Frankie, but you still feel other things for him.  Concern. Pity.  Fear that he may die or lose his family.  Fear that he’s so far gone that he may be beyond help.

When you go to leave after your visit with the new baby, Frankie walks you to your car. He’s twitchy; he keeps removing his ball cap and running his hands through his curls, then resettling his hat no his head. 

“You know I’m always here if you need me,” you say, and you look at him until he finally meets your gaze with his own.

“Yeah, I know.”

“We’re still friends, right?”

At that, Frankie glances away, and you notice the way he shifts back and forth on his feet, like he’s itching to be somewhere else.

“Sure,” he replies, and there’s no warmth or conviction in his tone at all.

*****

Santiago sets the date of his return with you:  the second week of November.  Right before Thanksgiving.  You light up at the news over your video call with him.  You shift straight into planning mode; a Friends-giving type feast paired with a welcome home party and a house-warming party.

Santi doesn’t miss how it makes him feel, the thought of coming home to you and building a home with you.  A cozy domestic life he used to scoff at, but now that it’s within reach, he wants nothing more.

He works so damned hard to wrap up all his loose ends, he finishes his contract two weeks early.

What better surprise than to turn up at your doorstep early?

The timing is a few days off from Halloween, but Santi turns up the evening when your neighborhood is doing trick-or-treating.  The taxi crawls down your street because of how many groups of children and parents are milling around, going from house to house, but when the taxi stops and the driver pops the trunk so he can get his luggage, Santi has a moment of confusion.

For a brief few seconds, Santi feels off-kilter.  This isn’t your house.  He peers closer in the late twilight and studies the lines of the house, and it takes him a moment before he realizes that it is your house and that you’ve worked far harder to get it ready for him than he had thought.

The peeling paint is gone.  The sagging window sashes have been replaced by flower boxes filled with bright flowers and lush greenery.  The shrubs and trees have been trimmed back into neatness, and the entire air of dereliction has been replaced by a warm hominess. 

The lights by the front door are on, chasing away the twilight shadows with warm yellow light, and in the center of it, there’s you.

You don’t notice the taxi.  You don’t notice him as he approaches.  You’re engrossed with a trio of children in front of you, smiling and chatting with them as you dole out candy from the giant bowl in your arms.

You’re dressed up like Little Red Riding Hood, he guesses:  a Bavarian-type dirndl, white knee socks, and a scarlet cloak, and it makes a flurry of feeling rocket through him.  Lust, obviously—he has a sudden, powerful image of bending you over some surface, flipping that skirt up and taking you from behind, of hauling you off your hands so he can turn your head and kiss you while he fucks you…

And love, too.  Obviously love.  Santi has never really been in love before, and now that he has you, he’s learning that love can feel a hundred different ways.  It can be a gentle groundswell, like sitting in a boat on a calm ocean, being softly rocked, like waking up beside you in Medellin before dawn.  It can be a warmth, like sitting beside you in your mother’s gazebo and teasing each other.

Right now? Right now, love feels like a knife in his heart, a sharp, piercing pain as he looks his fill of you.  As he realizes that he’ll never have it with anyone else, and the realization makes a thread of fear run alongside the love. What if he messes this up somehow?

The fear gets swept away the moment you notice him.  Santi has the distinct impression that you’d plow through the kids standing on your porch to get to him; he watches as you start to drop the bowl of candy and take a step towards him, then stop.  And he watches as your eyes fill with tears, but then he’s moving towards you, skirting around the gaggle of kids with their parents, and then he hears something fall but doesn’t look because he has his arms around you, he’s kissing you, and you’re struggling to kiss him back because you’re crying.  You’re crying and touching him—his face, his arms, his neck, his hair—to prove that he’s really there, and his feet crush the candy scattered along the porch because you’ve dropped the bowl so you can hug him.

“He didn’t say trick or treat,” one kid says in a voice that’s laced with indignation.

-----

The parents can guess what’s up.  They exchange sly, knowing smiles as Santi hauls his luggage inside, and as you basically dump your reserve of candy onto the porch, then give a half-assed apology to the kids before you shut the front door and lock it.

“Santiago Garcia,” you say in mock-anger, wagging your forefinger at him.  “You’re early.”

“I think I’m right on time.”  He reaches out, tugs lightly against the hem of your cloak.  “Got to see this.”

You give a twirl, just like you did the night of Frankie engagement.  Your skirt bells out, and you give a shy smile.  “You like it?”

“Mmm.” He reaches out again, tugs against your cloak again.  “Very much.”

“I’m supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“If I knew you were coming early, I would have gotten you something to wear.  A wolf costume or something.”

Santi snorts. He moves closer to you, the would-be Big Bad Wolf.  “How much candy do you think I could hand out with you looking like this?”

You roll your eyes.  You never quite believe him when he expresses how beautiful he thinks you are.  How sexy.  It’s a side effect of your trauma, he thinks.  Low self-esteem.  He promises himself to say it more.  He’ll say it all the time until you start to believe him.

He takes your hand in his and draws it down to himself until your palm is cupping where he’s hard and straining for you.  He watches your eyes go wide, your lips part as you take a deep breath.

“Told you I like this outfit of yours,” he grumbles near your ear. 

“Guess so.” You work your hand against him, cupping him, squeezing him gently through his jeans.

“Doesn’t Little Red Riding Hood get eaten?”  He drives the point home by biting you lightly against your neck, and he expects you to squeal and push him away, but your moan at the sensation and lean into him more.  So he bites you harder—he pushes the neckline of your cloak and dress aside to reveal the sensitive bit where your shoulder meets your neck.  He sinks his teeth into you.  Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave indents, his teeth dimpling your flesh.  He runs the tip of his tongue over those little divots, and you moan again, so he sucks against you there, tastes you.

“God, Santi—”

“I’m the Big Bad Wolf,” he mutters against your skin.

“San—”

“Gonna eat you up.”  He nips at you again, a line of light bites that end with him nipping your earlobe.  “Fucking starving for you, querida.”

Your free hand finds the back of his head, and he feels your fingers push through his curls and grip him.  You hold him against you—you don’t push him away.  Your other hand shifts from stroking him through his jeans to undoing his pants.  You fumble at the button and zipper, but then your hand slips through the waistband of his boxers and you grip him.  You stroke him as he pushes his hips against your hold.

He leans into the game and growls at your touch.  “Want you,” he manages to get out before his mouth finds the other side of your neck, nips and sucks against your soft skin there, raises matching marks.

“You have me. Please, Santi.”

“Wolf,” he corrects, and you laugh at that, but he snakes a hand down to your skirt. He slips under the layers of skirt and petticoat, he slips under your panties, and he finds you slick and ready for him.  He pushes a thick finger into your tight heat, and it makes you groan out his name, but then you amend it and call him ‘Wolf,’ and it turns him fully feral and you his willing victim.

He pulls his finger from you, and he pulls away from your stroking hand.  He gets himself under you at the right angle and lifts you up in a fireman’s carry, your body slung across his shoulders like a downed soldier as he carries you upstairs while your laughter fills the house.

Later, he’ll marvel on how much you’ve gotten done in the home.  Right now, he’s got tunnel vision.  He only feels the weight of you on his back, and he only focuses on getting you to the bedroom so he can fuck you senseless.

*****

Until Santiago came into your life, you hated the position of doggy style.

You had a brief boyfriend in college who only liked to fuck you from behind—an obvious red flag you were too naïve to notice back then—and he had always been rough about it.  Made it degrading.  Called you a slut for taking him like that, said only whores took it from behind. You always felt bad afterwards, but you were too insecure to speak up or break it off.

Santi changed your mind about it, back in Colombia.  He always was gentle about it, never degrading.  You wondered at his ability to rewrite parts of your unhappy past. It was like magic.

Now, he’s less gentle.  He’s leaning into some Wolf persona, a dominant side you’ve never seen in him, but it makes a painful throb of desire rocket through you.  He’s still gentle, just less gentle than before.  He drops his voice down a half-octave, and his calloused hands are firm as they undo your cloak, making it pool at your feet like a scarlet puddle.  As he reaches under your skirt and tugs your panties down your legs until you step out of them.

As he pushes you gently onto the bed and tells you in his low, graveled voice to get on all fours.

Santi gets it perfect.  How does he always manage it, being so perfectly in tune with you in bed?  He’s playing at some dominant, growling wolf-Santi, and he’s ordering you around, but he’s careful too—when he reaches into the bedside stand for a condom, he whispers in your ear, asks if this is okay, tells you to talk to him if you need something different.

You repeat what you said downstairs.  “You have me.”  You wriggle a little from where you are perched on all fours on the bed and add, “I’m all yours.”

He hums at that.  You hear the rustle of clothing, the soft whump as his jeans hit the floor.  You hear the tearing of the foil condom packet, then Santi’s heavy breathing as he rolls it onto himself.  Then nothing, and the moment of nothing seems to stretch an eternity, so you wriggle again like a dog wagging its tail.  The full skirt of your costume flounces, but Santi flips it up over your hips and delivers a light smack to your ass.

“You gonna be a good girl?” he asks.  “Gonna be good for me?”

Oh, that’s new too.  You bite down against your lower lip, but the phrase good girl makes your pussy clench down on nothing, and you wonder if he can see.  The thought makes your face heat up.

“Y-y-yes. I’ll be good.”

“Not a very good girl, walking through the woods alone.”

Oh, this is new too.  A full-on roleplay.  You’ve never done it before; you always assumed you’d be too self-conscious to layer in acting to your sex life.  But you aren’t facing him, and it’s Santi anyway, so it feels easy to fall into the game.

“I am a good girl,” you pretend-pout.

Another swat to your ass, but Santi keeps his hand on you.  Cups your hip with it, and his other hand lightly strokes you between your legs.  You bite your lip again, swallow down the moan that wants to tear out of your throat.

“I think you wanted to get caught.”  He parts your folds, pushes his finger into you again.  He moves slowly so you feel every centimeter of his digit.  Every knuckle.  He pushes himself in, pulls himself out, and then he adds a second finger. You can feel him carefully scissoring his fingers, stretching you out.

“Think you wanted this,” he adds.  “Sweet little thing, tempting all the scary beasts in the forest to come take you.”

“Just trying to tempt one beast.”  Your voice is tight, strained.  You’re trying to be patient but he’s driving you mad with his slow, careful fingering, and you have missed him for months.  “One, specifically.”

“You have him.”

You open your mouth to snark that you don’t really have him, not yet, but he beats you to the punchline.  He pulls his fingers from you and settles that hand along your hip, the wetness on his fingers smearing along your skin.  Then you feel him, the blunt, heavy weight of his cock as he notches it at your entrance.

“Please.” Your hands twist in the comforter as you brace yourself.  “Please, Santi—”

“Be patient. I like seeing you like this.”

“Please.”  You grip the comforter harder, drop your head as you huff out a heavy breath of frustration.

He chuckles behind you, and his hands rest lightly on your hips.  “If you want it, you can take it anytime, querida.  It’s yours.”

You don’t know where this falls in the game of pretend, but you don’t care anymore.  You’ve missed him for so long.  You’ve waited even longer to have what you have with Santi. You searched for it in the wrong place, with Frankie, but it was Frankie who led you to his best friend, so you can’t be mad about it.  But for now, your entire life collapses into this single moment, and Santi is here with you again after so long apart, so you push back against him, you push yourself onto his thick cock, and it toes the delicate line between pleasure and pain to have him inside you again.

“Fuck, sweetheart.”  His words are breathless, and his hands spasm tighter on your hips.  He pulls you back the last inch, seats himself deep inside you until you feel him flush against you.

He sets a slow, deep rhythm to his thrusts.  He doesn’t jar you; he keeps a firm grip on you and fucks you carefully as you reorient yourselves to each other.  You warm up to the feeling of his invading length, and you arch your back when he delivers a particularly deep thrust.  The tip of him brushes over that spot inside you, and your vision wavers each time he does.  Little yellow sparks light up at the edges of your vision.

How could you have ever guessed, all those years ago at the airport when you met him, that this would be the man who made you see stars in the bedroom?

“So fucking gorgeous,” he mutters behind you, low, like he’s talking to himself.  “Taking me like such a good girl.”

His praise makes another hot pulse of desire course through you, and you drop your head against the comforter and push back against him. 

“Missed you,” he adds, and before you can reply—yes, you’ve missed him too, so fucking much—his hands move from your hips up to your shoulders, and he’s suddenly hauling you off of your hands until you’re kneeling in front of him.  He wraps his arms around you, presses your back to his chest, and his thrusting turns sloppy. 

“Kiss me,” he demands.  You turn your head as much as you can, and the kiss is sloppy too because you can’t quite reach completely, but his mouth slides against yours.  His tongue finds yours, and it’s messy—his ravenous mouth seeking yours, his cock thrusting erratically against you as you lean back against him.

“Missed you so fucking much,” he pants between kisses.

“Missed you more.”  You reach an arm back and hook it behind his head.  You tug against his curls and try to direct his mouth back to yours.  “Missed you the most.”

“Wanted to romance this.”  He sounds slightly ashamed.  “Wanted to make it sweet for you, querida.  I’m sorry—”

“Don’t.” You pull his hair harder.  Hard enough to make him groan, and he drops his head to rest in the crook of your neck.  He kisses you there softer, but there’s a faint ache when he brushes his lips against the places he’s marked you.  In the morning, you’ll see the carnage:  the handful of hickies, the visible teeth marks that have bruised you. 

In the morning, the sight of those marks will make you so suddenly and inexplicably turned on that you’ll seek him out in the kitchen and sink to your knees then and there.

“Don’t apologize to me,” you add.  “Don’t you dare.  You’re—”  You gasp at the sudden hard thrust he gives you, cuts you off for a moment.  “You’re here weeks early.  Best surprise ever.”

His arms tighten around you.  He holds you so tight it steals your breath away.  He holds you like he’s terrified you’ll slip away if he doesn’t anchor you to him.  You take your free hand and grip his wrist, and you can feel his fast pulse under your fingers.

“I’m not gonna last much longer.  Sweetheart, I’m not—”

“Don’t hold back.”

“Baby, I can’t—”

“Go ahead and come for me.”  Your own orgasm is too far away.  Your thoughts are too scattered to focus on your pleasure; Santi feels amazing, but you’re still stunned by his unexpected arrival, and the roleplay that came out of nowhere, and you haven’t even really gotten to look at him very closely—

You tug on his hair again, steer his head back to yours.  You turn to kiss him, and you break the kiss to whisper against his lips, “wanna feel you come, Santi.”

“Baby—”

“Please.” Another kiss, another tug on his curls. “Come inside me.”

Maybe he forgets the fact of the condom, but your words make him shudder—and then his orgasm breaks around him.  He thrusts hard into you and stills, and his arms tighten around you even more, and he buries his face in your neck and groans out your name.

“Sorry.” It comes out muffled, and his frame slumps over you a bit as he loosens his hold on you.

“Don’t apologize.”  You loosen your grip on him too and run your fingertips through his hair. 

“I’ll make it up to you.”

You laugh. “Now that you’re here, you have plenty of time to make it up to me.”

And he does, a few hours later.  After you clean up and after he showers.  After he drags his luggage out of your entryway, and after you make him a snack in your renovated kitchen because his schedule is all out of sync.  When the two of you finally turn in late at night, he makes it up to you:  he takes you gently, slowly.  He seems to savor every moment, and he touches every part of you like he’s reacquainting himself to you.

Afterwards, as you drowse in his arms, sated and so full of love that your chest feels tight, Santiago traces his fingers along your spine until you squirm a bit.

“Think I finally found a good nickname for you,” he tells you.  “Better than ‘Bean.’”

You tilt your head and try to peer at him in the darkness of the room.  “You already picked one.”

“’Querida.’”

“Yeah. I like that.”  You settle against him again, your cheek pressed against his chest.

“Might start calling you ‘Red.’”

You laugh, and he chuckles underneath you, a pleasant rumble.  “You’re trouble, Santiago Garcia.”

“And you love it.”

“I absolutely do.”  You let a moment pass, then you turn your head again and press a gentle kiss on his bare chest, right where his heart lies.

“Welcome home, Trouble,” you whisper.

“Happy to be here, Red,” he replies.

[suenoji]

nerd!eren SUPREMACY!!! my favorite white boy! i wanna make a little series with him so bad… reblogs and feedback appreciated!

contains: just m!masturbation

nerd!’ren and reader took it slow when they first met. trips to the library, the icecream shop to get your favorite caramel and pralines double scoop. then his or your dorm when you two had to study some more. it was preferably done in your room, cause he just loved getting the chance to see what new things furnished your dorm. maybe another pillow? a fluffy crocheted blanket? some decor? a new candle. whatever it was it made him happy seeing you swell and overflow with joy.

you’d get all bouncy, dancing around your room on the tip of your toes. slipping off all your clothes till your in nothing but a tank top and some really short shorts with no panties. then eren proceeds with his usual. he goes to bathroom, he’s gotta piss or so he says. but really he’s just a weirdo, he stares at your hamper. eyes glazed and fixated on the black laced thong that sat at the top of the pile. he moves quickly. he plucks them from the top and balls it up in his hand. then he’s putting up to his nose, inhaling every inch of you relishing in the scent that gets him harder then ever. his back’s to the door and he’s tugging his sweats down. he’s gulping down his whimpers as his fists wraps around his cock. his thumb is shaky as he swipes it over his tip. translucent beads of precum pearl at his tip, and drip down his sides following the shape of each vein as they flow to the base of his cock. for the most part, he keeps himself trimmed, but he’s been so stressed with school it’s gotten a bit messy.

from the other side of your bathroom door you can hear him groaning. there’s a lewd air that permeates the door as the sound of his palm, wet and sticky against his cock, grows louder. your fingers don’t do enough to stimulate your clit. you feel like such a loser. why can’t you just open the door and tell him every time he comes over your pussy gets all sticky and that masturbation doesn’t quell the thought. seeing his print through his loser sweats, the brunette strands that travel down them. he’s a curse, a big freaking loser who you need in between your legs. but it only gets worse. you hear him groan your name and your stomach does flips. it’s not only your name, it’s the things he says after. like how he wants to put a baby in you, he wants to knock up the pretty girl who only cares about herself and her grades. he’s moaning about how he’d give you the best dick of your life if you’d give him a chance. you always look like you want to give him a chance too, so is he wrong for assuming so?

on the other side of the door, he’s dripping profusely. his knuckles are trembling as he milks himself, his tummy jerks with each pull. he’s thrusting his hips, fucking his hand and losing himself in the smell of you. then he gets the big idea to cum on your panties. his balls twitch from overstimulation, but his slit pulses as more cum trickles out into your panties. he pants weakly, ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’ spew from his mouth. he’s hot, his dick won’t go down, and he made a fucking mess of your panties. you can hear him shuffling on the other side. you hear the turmoil, the disgust with himself for being such a whimp. “um, ‘ren? you okay in there?” you slightly shout as you step away from the door.

“yeah...ha- totally! i-i just made a little bit of a mess so i just have to clean up…a-around the sink…haha.” he’s damn awkward and such a terrible liar.

[klausysworld]

Hoping to get a little ask in…

Klaus and YN were in a f**k buddies, YN gets pregnant and is upset when Klaus is an ass about it. But YN is heartbroken when she walks into Klaus room to find him painting and a naked (covered in bed sheet) Cami.

Thanks so much

A life i do not deserve

Part 2

It hadn’t exactly been in mind to get pregnant when i slept with Klaus. He’s a vampire he isn’t meant to be able to have children. But apparently being only half hybrid has its extra ‘perks’. We’ve had a ‘friends with benefits’ kinda situation going on for a a while before i fell pregnant and i hate to admit it but i was gaining feeling but i could have sworn he was too, there was certain gentleness he would have sometimes, a specific look in his eye you know?

Then witches took me and we found out i was pregnant…with his kid. I won’t lie i wasn’t exactly over the moon, i was terrified and sick to my stomach with nerves. When Klaus found out i, for some reason, thought he might have said something, anything reassuring. Yeah, no. He flipped out, i was a liar, a slut that would sleep with anyone who was desperate enough to have me and i probably couldn’t even remember the fathers name. I don’t think i’ve ever cried harder, in front of Klaus, his brother and a witch, the overwhelming combination of the news and then the person i had finally come to actually understand telling me how disgusting and worthless i am to him just pushed me over the edge.

He left me and our child for dead before eventually returning. By the time he came to bring me home i was in an emotionless state. I refused to speak to him and wouldn’t let him touch me.

Over the next few months he had apologised many times and i decided it was best to move on from the issue, we were going to be parents after all. Plus the small fact that i did still long for him and everything in my heart screamed to forgive him. i knew he was struggling with the adjustment to his life as well, he just went for anger instead of distress.

Besides over that time we’ve had many sweet moments, he could be very kind when he wanted to be. I still hoped that he may see me as more one day. He would give my head a soft kiss and rub my bump in a loving manner. We were going to be a family.

I thought we could be a happy family…

But then he had to fuck his therapist.

I had just got back to our home, my bump was much bigger now as i was nearly 7 months pregnant. I had gone out to collect the decorations Klaus had picked for our baby’s new room, he had insisted we get it ready asap and i couldn’t argue. We designed and got it set up over the past few weeks.

I had just made a few extra adjustments to the baby room before going to Klaus’s room but he wasn’t in there. What was however was a bra and panties set. They were definitely not mine. I could feel my heart breaking as my breath caught in my throat and i opened his art room door.

I’m almost certain he could actually hear my heart shatter as i took in the scene before me. Camille. The blonde psychologist was completely naked on his art sofa, a sofa that they had spent time on in the past. Another girl was sprawled out with her tits on full display, a scrap of a bedsheet covering her most private area. And Klaus he was painting her. He only painted people when he had taken an interest, he told me that when he painted me. Everything he had shared with me was a game. The pregnancy ruined his game.

I took a step back and immediately he was stood in front of me, i could feel the tears streaming down my face, my chest aching as my mind yelled at me to leave. I couldn’t hear a thing he was saying, though i could see the panic in his eyes as he hands came to hold my arms. The second he touched me i let out a sob, my head shaking and my feet carrying me out the compound as fast as possible.

“y/n! stop running, love please!” he was grabbing me again, hands that had been all over another woman’s body, possibly inside another woman’s body. I was gonna be sick.

“get off me right now or i swear i will leave and never come back, you don’t even want this child and it’s clear you don’t want me so i don’t know why you’re bothering in trying to convince me otherwise” my voice was shaky and pain was obvious as i spoke.

“that wasn’t anything, she’s nobody, you’re carrying our baby, our baby that i love, you know that i love our child, you mean so much to m-“

“you’re such a fucking liar Klaus! This entire time i was afraid you still thought i was a stupid whore but it turns out I’ve been living with one this whole time while lugging around his kid, a kid you wanted to leave for dead, i forgave you and you said that we could be a family” my heart was basically on the floor at this point

“i can’t live here anymore. i’m leaving, i don’t know where i’m going but i’m not staying with you, you keep your filthy hands off of me and you stay away from my child. Do as you please, when you please but do not expect me to come crawling back to you, begging at your feet for a life that i do not deserve”

i practically ran to my car, the car that he had bought me, and drove to a hotel, i would sleep this off and think of a clear plan when i was in a better headspace

[misscherrys-world]

Fuck or Treat!

༒Starring༒: Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Franken! Kyle Spencer, James Patrick March and Kai Anderson.

Obv I was inspired by this pic I found hilarious

Happy Witch’s New Year!

✣Warnings✣: NSFW.

Sorry if it sucks but I just wanted to write their reactions and I tried to be as canon as I can be. Enjoy!

Tate Langdon

Tate never left the house like other ghosts until he met Violet. But now she doesn’t talk to him he doesn’t go out and stays around her.

So one day when you moved in the house you decorated the front porch with pumpkins and he saw the carving.

It was hard to tell if it’s “fuck” or “trick* so he asks you.

You replied nonchalantly: Trick, you silly.

He looks at you and said: I’d prefer the fuck one.

“It’s so inappropriate for the children, I like it!”

So you both worked on the decorations together hopefully your parents won’t notice, at least not now.

Kit Walker

Would definitely choose to “fuck” without further explanation.

He would bend you on the table and thrusts deeply and passionately.

After you both finished he would ask: “Is it just for me or you’ll put it on the front porch?”

“It says trick, Kit.”

He looks at it in confusion “No it doesn- ohhh I see it my bad my bad”

“That was good actually keep doing this and I’ll give you dozens of kids”

Franken! Kyle Spencer

“TREAT” he would yell for treats.

I would laugh with Zoe for his enthusiasm.

Zoe: “Okay, Kyle… Read this.”

Kyle after a while of trying to make a word he says: “F-Fuck or.. Treat”

“Omg, Kyle no! It’s Trick or Treat” you laugh so hard because you did it on purpose to trick people in the Academy.

He pouts a little then he hugs you and Zoe: “Fuck”

I chuckled because I knew what he wanted from his hot witchy girlfriends.

Zoe closed the door and we 3 started to get undressed.

James Patrick March

James: “What in the-? Did they change or traditional Trick or Treat?”

“No James what do you mean? It says Trick or Treat.”

James: “I must say, dearest you’re not quite the talented one to carve pumpkins. I almost read it something completely different.”

“Did you read it “fuck”? Yeah I did it on purpose”

He looks at you intrigued: “That sounds obscene! I must say I myself thought of couple things we can do for this occasion.”

“Me too” you said playfully.

He presses a kiss to your lips first softly then it grows intense.

Kai Anderson

He huffs as he went down stairs, he didn’t approve of the Halloween decorations but you insisted.

As he enters the kitchen he saw the pumpkin.

He looks confused at first but then he catches on it quickly. He had quite the idea of this whole Trick and Treat concept.

He walks towards you in the living room and says: “New rule for the Halloween. It’s Fuck or Treat not Trick and Treat. And you’re allowed to do it with me. And only me, your divine ruler.”

You blink few times before you say: “Cool, you’re a good fuck after all.”

His ego flares up.

“Also that pumpkin.. I did it on purpose.”

Kai: “I could tell you horny slut.”

[cherrytreegrove]

The Mistress of Silk

Ik most people won’t read this because it’s Oc related but I hope you guys enjoy! I put a lot of time into it!

OC’s used: @nyx-of-night (Soleil) @raguiras (Allen) @galacticstationsblog (Via) @amatsuchan-eiliniel (Hopper) @heyhellohihowareyou (Mateo and Kaegen)

“Fucking damnit.” Ivy groaned, laying on her bed. She was exhausted, absolutely exhausted. For a week straight, she had been mission after mission, they ranged from info errands to high stakes kills. She could feel her sore hips burn.

“Don’t forget you have a meeting with Luka today at 6 and a gala to attend tomorrow at 2 that lasts until 10.” One of her Homunculi said, bringing a warm wet towel.

“Ughhh…”

“Don’t complain, Mistress. You sound like a child.”

*Blop*

“You okay baby?” Ruggie asked, holding Ivy’s hand. Both of them were walking into NRC.

“I’m fine, just tired as shit.” Ivy explained. At the moment their relationship was one of give and take, they both deeply loved each other but were too afraid to say it.

“You sure? Your uniform is pretty messy, I’m surprised Vil let you leave the dorm!” Ruggie chuckled, fixing her shirt, and tie. Ivy smiled as she watched him, his cute little face clearly focused on helping her.

“That hyena’s fucking lucky.”

“Yeah, he gets to fuck that hot ass”

“I’m sure when she gets bored of him, she’ll leave him!”

“Whores like her never stick to one guy!”

Ivy’s eyes didn’t move from Ruggie, even though she could hear the students whispering about her. She didn’t blame them, they had every right to call her that..

*Blop Blop*

Ivy walked around the Inferno Mafia Mansion, doing reports to Luka was never her favorite job but it had to be done. As she walked into his office, she instead found her mother.

“Mom. What are you doing here?” She asked. Her mother looked over at her, her cold blue eyes decorated with eyeshadow and eyeliner.

“I don’t know if you know this, Ivory, but I work here too.”

“Hardly as anything important.”

“I’d keep my mouth shut if I were you. We’re not different. I may be one of the prostitutes, but you’re the one with the official title of the Mafia’s Whore.”

“…”

“Oh, and Alexander wants the file on the Jabberwocky project.”

“Why didn’t he come tell me in person?”

“You know he couldn’t care less about you. You should be grateful I even speak to you. You’re nothing more than a burden to us.”

“...mom…”

Ivy tried to step closer to Madison, only to be met with a harsh slap to her face.

“And quit calling me that! I am NOT your mother and I never will be!” Madison yelled, “You’re nothing but a fucking whore! A worthless pig! A monster! You’re worth nothing!”

*Blop Blop Blop*

“That’s enough, Madison!” Luka called out. He stood by the door, Elle and Jewel standing beside him. “Your job was to bring me the reports on new projects. NOT to harass Ivy.”

Madison scoffed, storming out of the room, shoving past Elle. Elle blew a raspberry at her, while Jewel gave her the stink eye.

“Are you alright, Ivy?” Luka asked, walking over to her and cupping her cheek, gently rubbing the slap. Ivy nodded. “Girls, take Ivy back to her room.”

“But the project-”

“We can work on it later, your asshole of a mother ruined my mood.”

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Elle and Jewel took Ivy back to her room, helping her get ready for bed.

“You okay, Ivy?” Jewel asked, brushing Ivy’s hair out of her face.

“Yes. I’m fine, seriously you guys.” Ivy sighed, handing Jewel the ribbon to tie her hair back.

“Can I ask something? What’s your relationship with Ruggie like?” Elle questioned, filing down her nails.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, like why are you with him? You two play it off as dating but I know how you are with real relationships.” Elle pointed at Ivy with the nail file.

“Look, it's just a simple case of a sugar baby and sugar mommy. He’s using me for my money and I just want a cute pet. That’s that.“ Ivy said, playfully slapping the nail file away.

“Even so, I want that relationship to end. Now.”

The girls looked over and saw Luka entering the room, a not so happy look on his face.

“What? Luka, what are you talking about?” Ivy stood up, walking over to her older brother.

“I don’t want you playing around with some dirty beastmen. That boy should not be in your life one way or another.” He spoke in a harsh tone, Luka had never questioned Ivy’s actions before, even if he didn’t like her flirting around.

“Luka, it’s a mutual agreement! I don’t see why you should care, it’s not like we’re actually dating!”

“But you want that! You want to date him and that’s why I don't want you engaging with him!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Yes I do, Ivy! You may not realize it but you are in love with that boy and you’re using this as an excuse to be around him! It’s not healthy for either of you! It has to stop now!”

“NO! This is the only way!”

“Ivy! You’re only going to hurt yourself! He doesn’t love you!”

“I KNOW! SHUT UP!” Ivy snapped, her fists clenching, nails digging into her palms, “I KNOW I CAN’T HAVE HIM!! BUT THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I CAN EVER BE CLOSE TO HIM!”

Everyone went quiet, while Jewel and Elle had sad, empathetic looks on their faces, Luka’s was a mix of empathy and an empty gaze. At the silence, Ivy started to storm out of the room.

“Where are you going?!” Luka yelled out.

“I’m staying at NRC! Where I won’t be hassled!” She yelled back, slamming her room door.

*Blop, Blop, Blop*

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Luka released the breath he had been holding in, slumping into a chair.

“Luka…don’t you think you could’ve been easier on her?” Elle said, sitting on Ivy’s bed.

“I agree, you were very harsh on her..” Jewel added.

“I know..I just…she’s gonna get hurt if she continues this! That boy is going to fall in love and leave her in the cold, and then what? She goes back to being an emotionless doll?!”

“She has us! We could always help her re-learn emotions!” Elle suggested, she knew about Ivy’s struggle to learn emotions.

“It took Ivy fifteen years to even feel any shred of happiness! I can’t stand by and watch her regress to that again…”

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Ivy slipped quietly into Pomifiore’s common room, closing the window and quietly making her way up the stairs, until she heard someone speak.

“Bonjour Madame Veuve Noire!” Rook smiled from the top of the stairs, causing Ivy to nearly fall backwards.

“SEVENS- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!!” Ivy whisper-yelled, putting her hand on her heart. How the hell did she not know he was there?

“I was awaiting your return to our lovely dorm!” He simply smiled. Sevens, she hated that smile.

“How the fuck did you know I was gone?”

“I noticed you tend to leave often around midnight, you know beauty sleep is important, Madame!” He then grabbed her arms and threw her over his shoulder, “Now off to bed!”

“PUT ME DOWN! I CAN WALK!” Ivy again whisper yelled, not wanting to wake up the dorm, she kicked and smacked Rook but he wasn’t letting go. He only put her down once they were outside her and Soleil’s shared room.

“Have a wonderful sleep, Madame Veuve Noire!” He chirps as he walks away. Words could not describe how uneasy she left around him. Despite that, Ivy slipped into her room, looking over at a gracefully sleeping Soleil, hands folded perfectly on her stomach.

She sighed and slipped into bed, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

“This better be good, or else you’re dead meat.” A man in a black suit warned, glaring daggers at the blonde woman in front of him.

“I think this information will be of use to you. The assassin you’re after, The Black Widow, has a weakness~”

“And that is?”

“This boy. Ruggie Bucchi, hyena beastman from the slums who attends Night Raven College. She’s sickly in love with him. Use him as bait and she’s sure to come running.” She places photos of him on the man’s desk.

“And why are you helping us? Why should I believe one of my enemy’s prostitutes?!” The man questioned.

“Because I hate that cunt more than anyone else in the world, I brought her into this world, and I want her out of it.” Madison scoffed, glaring at the picture of Ivy and Ruggie on a bench together. The man chuckled darkly, picking up his knife and stabbing it into the picture of Ivy.

“Consider it done~”

“Come onnnn! Come with meee!!” Ruggie whined, tugging on Ivy’s cardigan. He had been tasked with buying groceries, but instead of wanting the usual stuff from Sam’s shop, Leona wanted food from off campus. With Ivy’s help they were able to get him a pass to leave but he wanted Ivy to come with him.

“I can’t, I’m busy with things. I’m sorry honey, just take Jack with you!” She apologized, leaning her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arm around him.

“NOoOoOo, I wanna spend time with you!” Ruggie groaned, snatching her up by her waist and nuzzling his face into her neck. Ivy giggled, placing a sweet kiss on his lips.

“It shouldn’t take you that long. The faster you go, the faster you can get back to me~” She purred against his lips, finding the floor again and slipping out of his arms. “Now hurry up and go before it gets dark!”

Ruggie sighed dreamily, grabbing his wallet and walking out of his dorm.

Ruggie had finished picking up the food he needed, but was struggling to find his way back. It was like the world had turned upside down, one minute he was in a crowded market area and the next he’s in an empty street. He knew well enough to keep his guard up but what could a little hyena do against a trained kidnapper…

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

It had been two hours since Ruggie had gone out.

“Why is he taking so long?!” Ivy questioned, pacing around Savannaclaw.

“I don’t know, but would you quit that! Your stupid heels are making too much noise.” Leona groaned, turning to glare at Ivy.

“Well excuse me for worrying about my boyfriend!” She said sassily. She checked her phone again, to her misfortune, he hasn’t texted her.

“He’s probably just stuck in traffic or something..” The Lion said, rolling onto his back.

“No, it’s not busy, besides he would have texted me! Something’s wrong…” Just as she said it Elle bursted into Savannaclaw.

“Ivy! I need to talk with you! Now!”

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Ruggie was tied to a pole, a rag wrapped around his mouth to keep him quiet. Tears ran down his face, small bruises, dried blood, and dirt stained his face and clothes. The sight was Ivy’s worst nightmare. A man walked into the frame, his long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, eyes covered by a black mask. He was dressed in a dark suit, it was clear he wasn’t the one torturing Ruggie.

“Hello Ms.Jackson. We did warn you that you’d be making an enemy out of the wrong person. We’ve taken your little puppy, and if you want to see him ever again, you’d comply with the instructions we’ve attached to this video. Your pet depends on you~” And with that, the video ended.

Ivy was livid, she was enraged, she was scared, she was anxious, she could feel every emotion that was not positive. This was the most emotion Ivy had ever felt in her whole life, even when she freed herself, she didn’t feel much.

“What are you going to do?” Elle asked, seeing the look on Ivy’s face worried her.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them.” Ivy answered, starting to grab her equipment.

“What?! But you’ll be killed! They’ll have every measure ready for you! You can’t use your skills to get out of this, Ivy!” Ivy ignored her, moving past her.

“Even if that happens, Ruggie has no part in this! My one goal is to get him out of there, even if I have to die in the process!” She said, storming out of the room.

“…Ivy…”

“In just a few minutes my stress levels will finally go back to normal~” The blonde man smiled, fiddling with the scalpel between his fingers. Ruggie squirmed against the rag, trying to get the rag off. “Ah, my apologies! Let’s see what you have to say!” The man pulls the rag down. Ruggie gasped and coughed.

“What the fuck is your problem! Why are you doing this?!” He coughed out. The man’s smile dropped.

“How typical, you pets and your naïveté,” he groans, “your mistress is a shitty person, especially to me and my group, so we’re getting rid of her!”

“You’re wrong!! Ivy’s not a shitty person, she’s kind, and smart, and she would never hurt anyone!”

“Oh really? Tell that to the millions of people your precious princess has been hired to kill, or has she not told you yet?~”

“…what are you talking about?”

“The infamous assassin no one has been able to catch, some know her as The Mistress of the Dark, the Princess of the night, The Black Widow, The devil’s daughter, or Ivy Jackson.” The man smirks, pulling out pictures of Ivy during her work, pictures of her with men, with executives, covered in blood, around corpses, and with weapons, “She’s earned herself quite the reputation, how sad she didn’t trust you with this information~”

“…n-no…no you’re wrong…You’re wrong!!”

“Am I? Is this not what you expected from your ‘girlfriend’, how sad~” He laughs, dropping the pictures on the ground. “Oh, I do hope you’ll forgive me! This is nothing personal against you, you just happen to be her toy at the moment, and we had to drug you too, so sorry! That drug was just to make sure you couldn’t escape using your Unique Magic!”

“…toy?”

“Well yes, did you really believe you two were actually dating!” The man laughed, “that girl is incapable of any kind of emotion. She’s had many pets before you, she just wants something to play with then she gets bored of you and throws you out like a discarded toy~”

“…no…no, this can’t be true…”

“Poor baby~ let me tell you more about her~”

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Ivy snuck through their entrance easily, though it had been covered head to toe with security. Having to take out a few of the guards on the inside was slightly tougher but nothing she hadn’t been through. Finally getting to the room Ruggie was being held in, Ivy wasted no time in kicking down the door and aiming her gun straight at the blonde man, Ruggie still tied to the pole but with tear stains running down his face.

“Ah! Ms.Jackson! How lovely to see you!-”

“Cut the bullshit. Let him go. And no one gets hurt!”

“Mmhm! You see the only problem with that is…you’re already dead~” the man smirked, quickly dropping a smoke bomb on the ground, the smoke blinded Ivy for a moment before she started quickly moving around the room.

She couldn’t risk shooting blindly, not knowing where Ruggie was. Suddenly she was harshly kicked to the ground, she heard Ruggie gasp. The man dug his heels into the back of her neck, laughing as he did so. Ivy slid the knife out of her thigh holster, stabbing it into her ankle. The man hissed and backed away, Ivy quickly scampered up and retrieved her gun, shooting at his stomach, chest and legs.

Once the man doubled over in pain, screaming and bleeding, Ivy ran to free Ruggie, cutting the ropes and picking him up. She quickly ran out of the building, making it back to the helicopter. Ruggie tried to catch his breath, struggling to process what he had just witnessed. Ivy held him close to her as they took off, messaging his ears and his upper back.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re safe now my darling. I’ve got you, you’re safe. I promise!” She repeated, tears forming in her eyes. Her words caused Ruggie to relax and fall asleep.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Ruggie woke up to a stinging feeling on his cheek, she whined and slowly opened his eyes. When he opened them he saw Ivy, now in regular clothes, holding a cotton ball and some rubbing alcohol.

“Hey…you’re awake! Sorry if I woke you up, I just wanted to take care of your cuts as soon as I could!” She weakly smiled, continuing to clean his cut.

Ruggie whined a little at the stinging but kept still, he was laying on a soft king sized bed, the blankets were soft and warm, silky and expensive. He looked around and immediately recognized Ivy’s guest room.

“…Ruggie…I’m so sorry…” Ivy started, putting away the cotton ball and gently placing a bandage on his cut, “I-I don’t know why that man would do that…I can’t believe-”

“Is it true?” Ruggie interrupted her, not meeting Ivy’s gaze.

“W-What? Is what true?”

“…that you’re a killer?…” Ivy froze. Her body went cold.

“What are you talking about? O-Of course I’m not! Where would you get an idea like that?!”

“That guy told me, he showed me pictures of you! You were there! You kill him! You killed other people!” Ruggie’s voice started to rise. Ivy flinched, struggling to find a way out of this situation. Normally she would have no problem lying to someone but this was the boy she loved, she couldn’t do that to him.

“Ruggie please, just listen-”

“Listen to what?! More of your lies?!”

“No! Ruggie-”

“Was I just a pet to you?! Were you going to get rid of me when you got bored of me?!” He got up from the bed, stumbling over to the door.

“Of course not! Ruggie please you have to listen-”

“Did you listen to your victims?! Did you have to listen to them beg?!”

“Ruggie! They were all terrible people-”

“LIKE YOU?!”

“…r-ruggie..”

“YOU KILL PEOPLE! YOU TOOK INNOCENT LIVES! YOU’RE IN THE MAFIA! HOW CAN I EVER TRUST YOU?!!”

“Please Ruggie! You don’t understand!!”

“NO! I UNDERSTAND PERFECTLY FINE!! YOU’RE A COLD BLOODED KILLED! A MURDER! A MONSTER!”

Ivy stopped following him, her legs became weak, tears that she had been fighting back started to well up.

“STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN, YOU MONSTER!” And with that, Ruggie slammed the door shut and left Ivy’s penthouse. Ivy ordered her Homunculi to give him a ride back to NRC.

*Blop. Blop. Blop*

“Ivy? What are you doing over here?” Elle asked, walking into the botanical garden of NRC. Ivy had wandered over there to distract herself, failing to realize that her thoughts just got worse and worse. Ivy was just standing in the middle of the garden.

“…he called me a monster…” Ivy mumbled, hands scratching at her arms.

“What? Ivy, tell me what happened!” Elle said, running in front of Ivy to hold her. Jewel slowly walked into the garden as well, staying out of sight.

“..I’m a monster…hehe…that’s right, I’ve always been a monster.” Ivy began to laugh.

“N-No! Hey! What are you talking about?!” Elle desperately tried to get closer to Ivy, only to have her use her Unique Magic on her.

“GET AWAY FROM ME! I’m a cold blooded killer…I’m a monster! I’M A MONSTER!!” Ivy yelled, blot running down her eyes. Elle and Jewel’s eyes widened as the blot took over Ivy.

*BLOP*

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

“Are you alright, Ruggie?” Soleil asked, approaching the hyena, who was sitting in the hall of mirrors.

“Ah! Oh..hey Soleil…I’m just…I got into a fight with Ivy…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What was it about? You two hardly ever fight.” She asks, elegantly sitting down beside him.

“…well..it was about…her job..”

“Ah, did she finally tell you?”

“Wait, you knew?!”

“Yes, I have known for quite a while now.”

“B-But you two are still friends?”

“Yes, why would we not be?”

“It’s just…you know…because she…she’s-”

“An assassin? That did not change my perception of her.”

“Why?! She hurts people! She’s killed people!”

“Ruggie. Ivy was born into that situation. She had no choice but to do what she was told. You steal and pick-pocket to survive, do you not? It is the same with Ivy. She grew up in a harsh environment with no way out.”

“Y-Yeah…but…”

“Has she told you about Lev?”

“Who?”

“SOLEIL!! RUGGIE!!” Jewel yelled, quickly running to them. They both looked over at her, she was panting, trying to catch her breath.

“What’s wrong, Jewel?” Ruggie asked, both of them walking over to her.

“IT'S IVY! SHE OVERBLOTTED!”

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Soleil, Ruggie and Jewel rushed into the botanical garden, where Ivy’s Overblot form stood. Her hair was now entirely black, down to her ankles, and a black veil was draped on top of her head, her torso and chest were decorated in a black, almost red, top that looked like a gown, she wore various jewels, her fingertips were covered in blot. The bottom of the ‘gown’ was millions of black strings and Ivy’s human legs had turned into three pairs of black, inky spider legs. Half of her face was hidden behind a broken happy mask. Behind her was her phantom, a giant spider with a cracked vial of blot for a head.

(Art by @kiyomizuki , TYSM!!)

Around her were balls of black webs, the three of them could see a few of their friends wrapped up in them, Elle, Allen, Hopper, Riddle, Epel, and a few more. Leona, Rook, Deuce, Trey, Cater, Ace, Jack, and more students were scattered around, trying to fight Ivy.

“WHAT HAPPENED?!” Ruggie yelled out to Leona, who was trying to free Epel from the webs.

“YOUR GIRLFRIEND OVERBLOTTED! NOW HURRY UP AND SNAP HER OUT OF IT!” Leona barked back, struggling to rip the webs. Soleil rushed to help Rook free other students, while Jewel went to help people escape.

“IVY!! THAT’S ENOUGH!” Ruggie yelled, catching Ivy’s attention. She went silent, almost stopping everything she was doing, “YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR!” Ruggie continued. Ivy started maniacally laughing.

“Ohohohooo! What’s this?~ You don’t like me like this?” She laughed, her voice distorted, she used her webs to pick him up. “Why do you look so surprised? After all, I’m just a monster!”

“T-THAT’S NOT TRUE! IVY! LISTEN TO ME!”

“HAHAHAAA!! USING MY OWN WORDS AGAINST ME?! I DON’T THINK SO!” She cackled. Using the She’s that held him, she lifted him high into the air and slammed him to the ground. He could hear people calling out his name but he could only concentrate on the pain.

Ivy laughed more and stabbed one of her sharp legs into his stomach, not enough to go through but just enough to make him bleed out a lot. “I’m the monster you wanted so badly~ your welcome HAHAHAA!”

Ruggie’s vision went black.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

After a lot of fighting, Ivy had finally snapped out of her craze. She woke up to Elle and Jewel hugging her tightly.

“Oh thank sevens! You’re okay!!” They cried, burying their faces into Ivy’s shoulders. Ivy winced a little but let out a weak laugh.

“Hey you two, calm down..” Ivy looked around, seeing everything she’d done, “...I-I’m so sorry…I..I don’t know what to say…wait, where’s Ruggie?!” Everyone looked away, some pointed at Rook and Soleil who were currently trying to stop Ruggie from bleeding out.

Ivy’s breath caught in her throat, she rushed over to him. Once she got to him, Rook and Soleil moved away to give her space. Ruggie’s eyes were dull, but not lifeless, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth and staining his shirt. Ivy let out a choked scream, fat tears starting to run down her face.

“NO!! RUGGIE PLEASE!! PLEASE STAY WITH ME!! I’M SO SORRY!! PLEASE KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN! P-PLEASE DON’T L..LEAVE ME!! DON’T LEAVE ME PLEASE!! I’M SO SORRY!! I’M SO SORRY!!”

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

“He’ll be okay, his wound isn’t deep enough to kill him.” Via said, wrapping one final bandage on Ruggie’s stomach. She had been informed of the situation and was quick to heal Ruggie with her Unique Magic.

Ivy sat in one of the chairs next to the bed, quietly.

“…Ivy…do you wanna talk about it?” Ivy shook her head, “…okay, umm, I’ll give you two some time alone..” Via walked out of the nurse’s office, probably going to tell the others of Ruggie’s condition. Ivy turned to look at the unconscious Ruggie, tears started to fall from her eyes again. She let herself lay her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“…h-how could I do this to you…I-I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!” She wept, trying to be as quiet as she could. She looked at him, cupping his cheek and placing one last kiss on his forehead. “I’m so sorry…but…you won’t have to suffer anymore..”

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Everyone was relieved when they came into the nurse’s office and saw Ruggie awake. They hugged him and shared slightly teasing comments.

“Glad to see you’re awake, ya little runt!” Leona smirked, ruffling his dirty blonde hair.

“Haha, yeah, good to see ya too.” Ruggie replied, hugging Mateo and Kaegen with each arm, both of them refusing to let go. “How’re you guys holding up?” Ruggie asked, looking over at a few of his friends that had been in the cocoons of webs.

“Oh please, your condition is so much worse than ours!” Allen said, he was sat on one of the chairs with Deuce sitting next to him, running his hands on his bandages.

“Seriously, ya got some nerve asking us that when you’re the one with a hole in your stomach!” Epel playful yelled, getting a smack upside the head from Vil, and a scolding later.

“Where’s Ivy?” Ruggie asked, noticing that she was missing.

“She was the first one in here. When we came in, she wasn’t here..” Deuce said, holding Allen’s hand.

“C-Can someone go find her? I wanna talk to her!” Everyone slowly and hesitantly nodded, sending a few people to go look for her.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE’S GONE?!” Ruggie raised his voice at Elle and Jewel, he didn’t want to be rude but everyone had looked everywhere and no one could find Ivy, her room was left the same, nothing out of place. It was only when Elle and Jewel were questioned on Ivy’s whereabouts that they told everyone that Ivy had run away from NRC.

“…Ivy has decided to never come back to NRC, she’s cutting off contact with everyone…even us…” Elle said, squeezing Jewel’s hand to comfort her. Everyone was shocked and worried.

“Please! You have to tell her to come back!” Ruggie begged again, trying to get out of the bed but was held down by Leona and Rook. “PLEASE! PLEASE!! I NEED TO SEE HER AGAIN!!”

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Luka watched as his sister looked out the window, her cheeks stained with tears, her eyes were decorated in eyebags.

“…Ivy…I’m sorry…” Luka sighed sadly.

“..no…you were right…I should have ended it a long time ago…” Ivy said, letting even more tears fall from her eyes, “Maybe then…this wouldn’t have hurt so much…”

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

It had been a year since Ivy left, most things had gone back to normal, a new school year started. Soleil was now the Housewarden of Pomfiore, she led that dorm with grace and elegance as Vil did, but her vice housewarden had not yet been chosen. Ruggie had also taken the Housewarden role once Leona finally graduated.

The name Ivy became a sore topic, not just around Pomifiore, but the whole school. Freshman would be hushed if they questioned it around specific students. Many students who would give Ivy a bad name would find themselves on the chopping block, especially if Savannaclaw and Pomifore’s Housewardens heard it first.

Many students had dealt with the pain of Ivy’s disappearance, Ruggie and Soleil especially. Ruggie hadn’t stopped looking for Ivy, it was only when Elle started crying with him that he reluctantly stopped searching. Soleil had respected Ivy’s decision but could no longer bear the pain of the stress alone, no one’s wounds had been healed, they were only hiding them. As a last attempt, she sent Rook a letter.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Ivy had been living in a secured home on the other side of Twisted Wonderland, far away from any connections. She had her homunculi do almost everything around the home while she basically wasted away. Her hair became long and matted and her eyes became dull.

While she laid in bed, snuggled under at least five blankets, she thought about everything: about her relationship with Ruggie, her sisters’, her parents, her job, her life, her feelings, her-

“Bonjour Madame Veuve Noire!” And suddenly she was yanked from her blankets and thrown over a shoulder, connected to a very blonde bob.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! ROOK?! PUT ME DOWN!!” She yelled, kicking and hitting him. He simply ignored her and started prancing out of her room. Many of the homunculi got ready to attack but Ivy’s stopped them.

“DO NOT ATTACK HIM!! lay your weapons down!” She warned them, continuing to kick and scream for him to free her.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

They had gotten pretty far into the woods, Rook decided they had walked enough for the day, and as the sun was setting, they’d need to sleep. He placed Ivy down on a stump, reaching for an apple from one of the nearby trees.

“Eat up, Lierre, we must have strength for the journey back to NRC!” He smiled, taking a bite from another apple he plucked. Ivy glared at him but complied.

“Why did you come?” She asked, voice slightly muffled by the apple, “After a year, NOW you decide to come find me?! How did you even find me?! You know what, I don't wanna know that last one, It’ll just piss me off more.” She groaned, taking another bite.

“My darling told me to! She’s been very worried about you, did you know? She’s never stopped looking for you since that day.” Rook said, sitting down on another stump.

“…I shouldn’t be going back…I don’t belong there, Rook..” Ivy frowned while looking at the setting sun.

“If that is true then why didn’t you stop me.” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement.

“What?”

“You could have easily used your Unique Magic against me, or had your homunculi attack me, or used the weapons you hide on yourself at all times, but you did not.”

“T-That’s because you caught me off guard! I-I wasn’t expecting you to come and kidnap me!!” Ivy yelled, slapping him on the arm.

“What is truly plaguing your mind, Madame?” Rook asked, the harsh slap not even fazing him.

“…I-It’s Ruggie…I hurt him…I almost killed him! No matter what I do, I always end up hurting him! Every decision I’ve ever made has caused him pain!…he hates me now…” Ivy fought back the tears bubbling up in her eyes.

“Ivy. I have watched Monsieur Dandelion weep for your return the moment you left, he has never stopped searching for you, he aches for you to return to him.”

Rook explained, “And I know you ache for him as well.”

“I do…but no matter what I do…I always hurt him…”

“I know something you could do that would not hurt him.”

“What’s that?”

“Go back to him.” Rook said, wiping a tear away from her face. “Everyone, not just Monsieur Dandelion, is waiting for you. Won’t you come home to them?”

“…yeah…I will” Ivy smiled, her first real smile since the day she Overblotted.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Rook elegantly opened the door to Pomifiore, Ivy on his shoulder.

“Ma Chérie! I have returned!” Rook called out, a few freshmen looked at him weirdly until Soleil walked over to greet him.

“My dear, welcome back. I see you have brought Ivy back,” Rook puts Ivy down, to which Soleil slowly and gracefully checks Ivy for any kind of injury, “Are you alright? Are you injured in any way?”

“I’m fine, Soleil. I didn’t run away to the woods, geez.” Ivy laughed, taking her hands into her’s. “Wow, look at you! You’re a Housewarden now!”

“Yes, I am. It was not only by vote but Vil also nominated me.”

“IVY!! YOU’RE BACK!!” They both turned to see Epel running down the hall and tackle Ivy into a hug, knocking them both to the ground.

“Ack! Haha! Hey Epel! Look at you! You’ve grown up nice and strong!” Ivy laughed, hugging him back tightly.

“I MISSED YA SO MUCH!! YOU’RE BACKK!!!” Epel cheered, “You’re staying, right?!”

“…Y-Yeah, yeah! I’m staying!”

“THANK SEVENS!!”

“Epel, if you could please remove yourself from Ivy, I would like to speak to her, privately.” Epel listened to his Housewarden, helping Ivy off the ground and watched both ladies walk up stairs.

“How lovely it will be to have Madame Veuve Noire back!” Rook smiled.

“Did she fight all the way over here?”

“No, I had a lovely conversation ready to convince her!”

“Then why was she over your shoulder?”

“Before we got on campus she told me to carry her that way, she said because she ‘did not want people thinking we’re friends’.”

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

“The dorm’s looking good! Bet you’re doing good as Housewarden! Let me guess, Epel’s your vice?” Ivy spoke, walking into Soleil’s room.

“No, I have yet to choose a vice-housewarden.”

“Damn, really? Why?” Ivy asked.

“Because, I have been waiting for your return. I have been saving the role of Vice-Housewarden for you.” Soleil said, pulling out a Pomifiore uniform from her closet, it was a green box, labeled ‘Ivy’.

“…W-What? W-Why me?” Ivy stammered, hesitantly taking the uniform Soleil handed her.

“I could not never dream of another person more worthy of being my vice-housewarden than you, my dear friend.” Soleil said, tucking Ivy’s hair behind her ear, a small and subtle smile gracing her face. Ivy smiled back at her.

“I would be honored!”

Pomifiore was celebrating the return of Ivy and the announcement of their new Vice-Housewarden, when a familiar hyena beastman bursted through the doors. A few freshmen pulled out their pens, ready to attack the intruder but Soleil was quick to stop them.

“Where is she?!” Ruggie’s voice made Ivy’s body freeze. Was she ready to face him yet?

“Ah! Monsieur Dandelion, please come this way!” Rook said, leading Ruggie into the common room. Soleil quickly led everyone out of the room, giving Ruggie and Ivy room to discuss.

“…Ruggie…hehe, look at you, you’re a Housewarden now!” Ivy said with a closed eyed smile.

“Stop it.”

“Huh?”

“Stop doing that! You’ve always done that! Even before we were together, you’d always play off any problems you had!” Ruggie raised his voice, he saw Ivy look away from him.

“…Ruggie…”

“Why did you leave?! I was waiting to talk to you and when I wake up you’re gone?! Why?!!”

“…I was too afraid to face you…after what I had done…”

“…SO YOU LEFT WITHOUT SAYING ANYTHING?!! DO YOU KNOW HOW WORTHLESS I FELT?!! YOU MADE ME FEEL LIKE TRASH!!” Ruggie yelled. Ivy’s eyes widened at his tone, she knew this was coming but it still hurt her. “You were afraid?!…Good for you! ALL I WANTED WAS FOR YOU TO SEE ME!!”

They both stayed quiet for a while, Ruggie finally let the tears fall from his eyes, the tears of frustration and guilt and anger he had been holding in since he became Housewarden. Ivy slowly walked over to him, hugging him tightly.

“Please…let’s just…talk..please.” Ruggie begged, holding on tightly to Ivy’s waist, scared that if he let go, she would disappear again.

“Okay…let’s talk..”

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

“Move over! I wanna hear!”

“I can’t hear them! Shut up!”

“Bro! Scoot over!” Many students pushed and shoved at each other, trying to lean against the door to listen to the conversation.

“That is enough. All of you. Come, it is clear that you all need extra lessons.” Soleil warned them, dragging some of them by the back collar of their shirts.

“…Elle told me everything…about your parents, Luka,…Lev” Ruggie said, he was sat next to Ivy on one of the couches. Ivy made a mental note to both thank and scold Elle when she saw her again.

“…yeah…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…I was just…I knew that would react like that…and you had every right to..” Ivy sighed, rubbing her arm with nervousness.

“…yeah…but I shouldn’t have said any of that to you. You’re not a monster,” Ruggie grabbed one of her hands and held it in his, with his other hand he cupped her cheek, “I was dealing with a tone of information being thrown at me. You didn’t choose to work for them, I understand that now…I’m so sorry…”

“No, No, it’s okay! I get it, it’s not the easiest thing to-”

“It’s not just that..” Ruggie interrupted her, his ears laying flat against his head, “The whole time we were together…I never noticed anything, all the signs were there but I just ignored them because I used to see you as my ticket out of poverty…because I didn’t want to believe you had any flaws. But now I see that you do, you have flaws you have to work on, and I wanna help you through them!” He admitted, bringing Ivy closer to himself. “Please, let’s start over, yeah? Let’s be a real couple this time?”

“Ruggie, all this time…I felt like having a relationship with you wasn’t an option for me…I was scared of the danger I would put you in…I was scared that I couldn’t give you a normal peaceful future without completely lying to you…but…but I wanna be real with you. I want a real relationship with you, Ruggie Bucchi!”

Ruggie’s tail wagged, he brought her in and they shared a passionate kiss. This was going to be the start of a much happier time, for both of them.

TYSM FOR READING! MY FINGERS HURT😭