#harrys is as wild as usual | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lumosou · 19 days ago

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୨୧ — Breathing After the Ashes. 𖦹 , ✿ + ꕤ

ꕤ — Character(s) ; Harry J. Potter x Fem!Reader

ꕤ — Synopsis + Wc ; In the quiet after the storm, Harry learns to feel again—through stolen touches, whispered truths, and the solace of you. Together, you find warmth in the wreckage, and a reason to hold on. 7.9k

ꕤ — Discretion ; 18+ MDNI! angsty feelings alllll around, some fluff but mostly angstyish, the smut is so gentle and soft!!!!! mostly healing sex between reader & harry, they both need therapy.. penetrative sex! kisses as well 🫡

ꕤ — A/n ; this fic is lowkey my child but i also lowkey hate it! wtf! the pacing is kinda awkward and also repetitive bc this is genuinely the longest thing i’ve ever written and idk how to deal w it, bare with me i promise ill get better as i go 😭 i do hope u guys enjoy it somewhat!! reblogs and feedback are so so appreciated 🫶🏻

; masterlist.

The Great Hall wasn’t the same anymore. The enchanted ceiling still glowed with its usual charm, painted in amber hues that mirrored the late summer sunset, but the light felt muted somehow, swallowed by a weight too stubborn to dissipate. It hung in the air like smoke from a dying fire—bitter, clinging, impossible to outrun.

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, the hum of voices around him blurring into an indistinct murmur. His eyes stayed fixed on his plate, laden with food he didn’t remember serving himself: roast chicken, mashed potatoes, a gleaming crescent of gravy. None of it tempted him. The thought of eating made his stomach twist uncomfortably, a dull ache that spread through his chest.

The war was over. Voldemort was gone, his name no longer a curse. This was supposed to be the part where relief set in, where everything hurt a little less. Instead, Harry felt as though he was still wading through the rubble, shoulders bowed under the crushing weight of those who hadn’t made it. Colin Creevey. Remus. Tonks. Fred. Their names were a mantra he couldn’t stop repeating in his head, their faces seared into his mind’s eye.

His grip on the fork tightened until it dug into his palm, the bite of metal a thin distraction.

“Harry.” Hermione’s voice was a soft thread that tugged him out of his spiral. He looked up, startled, to find her hand brushing against his arm. Concern clouded her features, her brows knitting together. “You don’t have to stay here. If it’s too much, you can—”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, sharper than he meant to. The words came out like a reflex, cutting her off mid-sentence. Hermione flinched, pulling back her hand, and for a fleeting moment, guilt gnawed at him. But he shoved it down. He didn’t want her worry, her pity. He didn’t want any of it.

Ron shifted beside him, chewing on a hunk of bread like it was his way out of the tension. He didn’t speak, though Harry could feel the sideways glance he shot him. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until Harry let out a slow, controlled breath and placed his fork on the plate. The metallic clang rang louder than it should’ve, making him wince.

The scrape of his chair against the floor cut through the noise of the hall as he stood abruptly. “I need some air,” he muttered, already turning away.

He didn’t wait for Hermione to protest or Ron to offer some half-hearted comment to fill the space. His feet carried him toward the door, away from the low hum of conversation and clinking dishes. Toward the one place in all of Hogwarts where the noise couldn’t follow. Where he could finally, maybe, breathe.

─────────────

The Astronomy Tower had always been Harry’s escape. Perched high above the rest of the castle, it was the only place where the world felt distant enough to bear. The sprawling grounds stretched out below him, bathed in the purples and blues of dusk, and for a brief moment, the sight eased the tension coiled in his chest. He leaned heavily against the stone railing, its chill biting through his sleeves, and the wind making his already wild hair even messier. It carried the sharp, clean scent of freshly cut grass, grounding him in the present even as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

The sound of footsteps startled him—not loud, but enough to break the fragile stillness he’d sought. He turned sharply, hand brushing the wand tucked in his pocket, only to pause when a voice cut through the quiet.

“Are you hiding too?” you asked, lingering near the top of the stairs. The dim light softened your features, but it didn’t quite mask the curiosity behind your words. There was no malice in your tone, only a quiet humor that made his shoulders drop slightly.

“I wasn’t hiding,” Harry said automatically, though even to his ears, the denial sounded weak.

You tilted your head, unconvinced. A faint smile ghosted across your lips, but your eyes remained guarded, unreadable. “Right. You’re just conveniently up here, avoiding everyone, the same way I am.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, his fingers brushing the edge of the railing. He didn’t respond, unsure how to defend himself—or if he even wanted to. There was something about the way you stood there, hands loosely at your sides, your voice soft but steady, that caught him off guard. It wasn’t pity or prying curiosity, just… understanding. Like you could see the weight pressing down on him and felt no need to ask what it was. Like maybe you carried some of it yourself.

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking back to the horizon. “I guess you’re not.. wrong.’’

You stepped closer with quiet purpose, each movement deliberate, as though gauging the fragile equilibrium of Harry’s silence. He didn’t flinch or shift away, didn’t so much as glance at you. His gaze stayed locked on the horizon, but you could feel the weight of his awareness, the way the air between you seemed to hold its breath. When you finally stopped beside him at the railing, the stillness wasn’t stifling. It was tentative, balanced, as though it might shatter if either of you spoke too loudly.

“It doesn’t feel like the same place, does it?” Your voice was soft, your eyes fixed on the horizon as the last threads of sunlight dissolved into the hills. The sky deepened into shades of indigo and amber, blurring the edges of the world.

Harry nodded, though the motion felt stiff, half-hearted. “No,” he said, but the word came out hollow, too small to carry the weight behind it.

You leaned forward on the railing, fingers brushing the cool stone. “It’s strange,” you murmured, more to the sky than to him. “You think coming back will fix things, like the castle will just… feel the same. Like being here should make it easier. But it doesn’t. It’s all still different.”

Harry turned his head slightly, his gaze catching yours out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t mean to linger, but your words struck something raw, something he hadn’t managed to put into words. You’d said it so simply, yet it was exactly what had been clawing at him for months.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s not the same.”

Your eyes flicked to him, your expression unreadable. “And neither are you.”

The observation hit like a hex, sharper than you’d probably meant it to. Harry’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists against the stone. “Nobody is,” he said, his voice low and edged with a bitterness he didn’t entirely mean to direct at you.

But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t back away or apologize for the truth in your words. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, a flicker of understanding softening your tone. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” you said, your voice gentler now. “War changes people. It has to.”

He wanted to argue, to say something sharp and deflective, but the words caught in his throat. Because you weren’t wrong. He wasn’t the same person who had fought his way out of the Chamber of Secrets or stood in front of the Mirror of Erised. He wasn’t sure who he was now—just that he wasn’t enough.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt different. Not heavy, not empty, but something quieter, more bearable. Your arm brushed his lightly as you leaned forward on the railing, the contact fleeting yet somehow electric. He stiffened, his pulse jolting unexpectedly, and he waited for you to pull away. But you didn’t.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” you said after a moment, your voice low, steady. “I just thought you might not want to be alone. Sometimes it helps.”

He swallowed, his throat dry, and tried to muster some kind of response. He wanted to tell you he didn’t need anyone, that he was fine—had always been fine—on his own. But the words wouldn’t come. Maybe because they weren’t true.

“Thanks,” he said eventually, his voice barely audible, as though saying it too loudly might break whatever fragile thing had settled between you.

Your lips curved into the faintest smile, one that felt less like triumph and more like an offering. You leaned back against the railing, gaze lifting to the stars beginning to scatter across the night sky. They blinked faintly in the deepening dark, small points of light that somehow didn’t feel so far away.

For the first time in weeks—months, maybe—Harry let the tension in his chest ease just a little. The world still felt impossibly heavy, but next to you, it didn’t feel so crushing.

Maybe you were right. Maybe not being alone did help.

─────────────

The two of you stayed there, side by side, the silence between you settling into something quieter, more natural. Harry’s hands curled around the cold stone of the railing, the familiar feel grounding him as his eyes traced the lines of the grounds below. The weight on his chest hadn’t vanished, not completely, but your presence dulled its sharp edges, made it something he could carry, if only for a little while.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Your voice cut through the stillness—not loud, not accusing, just curious.

Harry turned his head toward you, startled by the observation. But you weren’t looking at him. Your gaze stayed on the horizon, your features lit faintly by the glow of the rising stars.

He shrugged, the motion small, self-contained. “Guess I don’t have much to say.”

You hummed softly, the sound low and thoughtful, almost like you were agreeing with him. “Sometimes it’s easier that way,” you murmured. “Less to explain.”

His grip on the railing tightened, knuckles pressing white against the stone. He wanted to ask how you could say something like that, how you seemed to know exactly what he was thinking when he hadn’t even said it aloud. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Some part of him was afraid that asking might shatter whatever strange, fragile understanding hung between you.

“Not everyone sees it that way,” he muttered instead. “Most people just want me to talk. Like if I say something, it’ll fix everything.”

You turned your head then, and he felt your gaze settle on him—steady, unflinching, impossible to avoid. “They probably think it’ll make them feel better,” you said, your voice calm but edged with certainty.

Harry blinked, the words landing harder than he expected. He hadn’t thought about it like that before, but of course, you were right. People didn’t just want him to be okay—they needed it. They needed Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, to be fine so they could tell themselves that things might still go back to the way they were.

“But it’s not about them,” you added, your tone softening just slightly, as though you’d noticed the way his jaw tightened. “It’s about you.”

The words struck something deep, loosening a knot he hadn’t realized had been pulling him taut all day. He turned to look at you fully now, his gaze searching your face for something he couldn’t name. But you weren’t watching him like everyone else did. There was no pity in your expression, no awkwardness. Just quiet understanding.

“Why are you up here?” he asked, the question spilling out before he had time to think better of it. He didn’t want to talk about himself anymore, didn’t want to keep peeling open wounds that hadn’t even begun to heal.

You hesitated, just for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to answer. Then your lips quirked into a faint smile—tired, almost self-deprecating. “Guess I needed to get away too. Being around people all the time… it’s exhausting.”

He nodded slowly. That, at least, he didn’t need explained. The noise, the questions, the endless parade of looks that didn’t ask but expected—it was suffocating. Up here, though, the castle below felt distant enough to forget, just for a little while.

“It’s different up here,” he said after a pause, though he wasn’t sure he’d meant to say it out loud.

You glanced at him again, your expression softer now, as though something in his words had shifted the space between you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he added quietly, surprising himself with the honesty of it.

You blinked, tilting your head like you hadn’t expected it either. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the tension in his chest eased, just a fraction. Whatever warmth flickered there wasn’t tied to the war or his title or anything he’d done to save the world. It wasn’t about being Harry Potter. It was just you.

You gave him a small, knowing smile, and for a moment, the weight of everything slipped from Harry’s shoulders. The ghosts quieted, the endless expectations faded, and the hollow ache that lived in his chest dulled just enough. Up here, with you beside him, the rest of the world felt far away, like it couldn’t reach him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said lightly, leaning back against the railing, arms folding across your chest. The breeze stirred your hair, the faint scent of pine and earth clinging to it, and Harry found himself watching the way the dim light softened your features.

“The Boy Who Lived doesn’t strike me as someone who needs anyone.”

Harry’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, but the warmth of it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is that what people think?”

You tilted your head, considering. “People think all sorts of things about you. Half of it’s probably rubbish.”

That drew a soft laugh from him, low and unexpected. The sound sat strangely in his chest, but it didn’t feel unwelcome. “You’re probably right.”

You glanced at him then, head tilted, your gaze curious but not intrusive. It wasn’t the sharp, prying look he was used to, the one that demanded answers or apologies or pieces of him he didn’t have to give. Instead, it was quieter, like you were searching for something without expecting him to offer it. Harry shifted under the weight of it, his fingers curling tighter around the railing, but before he could say anything, you spoke again.

“Sometimes I think people forget you’re just… human.”

The words caught him off guard, sinking into him like a stone dropped into water. You didn’t say it with pity or reverence—just a soft kind of honesty that made his breath catch. It was like you weren’t talking to Harry Potter, the Chosen One, but just Harry, the boy standing beside you on a cold, quiet night.

For a moment, he couldn’t respond. The silence between you stretched, filled with a thousand things he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. “Sometimes I forget that too,” he said finally, the confession slipping out before he could stop it. His voice was barely audible, and yet it felt louder than anything he’d said in months. “It’s like… if I’m not fighting or fixing something, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.”

You turned to face him fully now, your expression soft but steady. “Maybe you don’t have to figure that out right now,” you said. “Maybe it’s okay to just… be.”

The simplicity of it stunned him. Just be. As though it were that easy. As though he could strip himself of everything he carried and exist without purpose or expectation. Harry’s grip on the railing tightened. “I don’t know if I even know how to do that anymore.”

“Maybe you don’t have to do it alone.”

The words hung in the air between you, weightless and heavy all at once. Harry’s gaze lifted to meet yours, his heart stumbling in his chest. You weren’t looking at him the way most people did, like he was a puzzle to solve or a hero to rely on. You were looking at him like he was… enough.

He swallowed, his throat dry. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Your lips curved into a soft smile, but there was something in your eyes—something faintly sad and yet unwavering. “Because I think you need it.”

The knot in his chest twisted, a sharp ache he hadn’t felt in years threatening to rise to the surface. He blinked hard, pushing it back, refusing to let it crack him open. Not here. Not now.

His hand moved almost without thinking, brushing against yours where it rested on the stone. It was a light touch, tentative and fleeting, but enough to send a jolt through him. He froze, half expecting you to pull away, to retreat the way everyone else eventually did.

But you didn’t.

The touch lingered, delicate and unspoken, neither of you pulling away. It wasn’t an accident, nor was it intentional in a way that required words. It just was, the kind of quiet moment Harry didn’t know how to name—simple, yet heavy with meaning. His gaze dropped to your hand, where your fingers just barely grazed his, and something unfamiliar stirred in him, warm and disorienting.

“I’m not used to this,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. The night breeze nearly carried them away, but you heard him.

You turned your head, curiosity softening your expression. “Used to what?”

“Someone just… being here.” He let out a dry laugh, short and humorless, as if mocking himself. “Most people either avoid me or expect something.”

Your fingers shifted, brushing his more firmly, the subtle movement grounding him. “I don’t expect anything, Harry.”

His name, spoken so gently, without expectation or weight—it shouldn’t have struck him the way it did. But it lodged in his chest, the simplicity of it making his stomach twist. You weren’t trying to be anything other than honest, and somehow that made it worse.

He looked at you then, really looked at you. The moonlight played across your features, softening the edges, casting faint shadows against your skin. Your gaze met his and didn’t waver, holding steady in a way that made his chest tighten. There was something solid about you, something he couldn’t explain but couldn’t deny either. An anchor, maybe, in a world that had only ever felt like chaos.

“I don’t know how to…” The sentence faltered, crumbling before it could finish. Harry shook his head slightly, as if that might hide his frustration. How to what, exactly? Let someone in? Say what he was feeling? Be himself again?

“You don’t have to explain anything,” you said, like you could read his mind. Your voice was low, steady, but kind. “I meant it. You don’t have to do this alone. Whatever this is.”

A lump rose in his throat, the kind that tightened every word into silence, but he nodded, managing a quiet, “Thanks.” It felt small, inadequate, but you didn’t seem to mind. You just gave him a smile—small but warm, like the kind of light you don’t notice until it chases away the dark.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence wrapped around you, not heavy or cold, but something softer now. Warm, even. Harry let himself sink into it, his shoulders easing, his usual tension slipping away bit by bit. He glanced down at the grounds, the glow of the castle windows below casting long, soft shadows over the grass.

“Do you ever think about leaving?” you asked suddenly, your voice breaking the quiet but not shattering it.

Harry blinked, caught off guard. “Leaving Hogwarts?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… walking away. Starting over somewhere far from all of this.”

He hesitated, the idea catching him in a way he wasn’t expecting. The thought of leaving everything—this castle, its whispers, the weight of who he was supposed to be—was both terrifying and strangely tempting. To go somewhere he could just be Harry, without the war, without the name, without the constant pull of the past.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, the word quiet but honest. “But… I don’t think I could. I don’t know who I’d be without all of this.”

You nodded, like you understood. “Maybe that’s something you figure out with time.”

There was no judgment in your voice, just patience, and that startled him more than the question itself. Harry turned to look at you, searching your face for something he couldn’t name. You weren’t pushing him. You weren’t rushing him to have answers he didn’t have. And somehow, that made him ache.

“What about you?” he asked, the words coming out before he could stop them. “Would you leave?”

Your smile was faint, wistful, like the question had passed through you a thousand times already. “I think about it. But I always come back to the same answer.” You paused, your gaze slipping to the horizon. “I don’t think running away fixes anything.”

He nodded slowly, letting the words sink in. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

You laughed softly, and the sound caught him by surprise. It wasn’t loud, but it was real, and it made something in his chest ease. “Only probably?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile finally breaking through. “Fine. You’re definitely right.”

“There you go,” you teased, your tone lighter now. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

It was strange how the conversation shifted, how the tension between you melted into something easier. Lighter. For the first time in longer than he could remember, Harry felt himself relax into the moment, his guard lowering just enough to let the night and your presence settle over him. For once, the weight on his shoulders didn’t feel so crushing. For once, the world outside the two of you could wait.

─────────────

The hours blurred together, the sky above deepening into a velvety indigo scattered with stars. The castle had fallen silent, the faint hum of voices and clatter of dishes from the Great Hall fading into memory. You hadn’t moved far from him, and Harry found himself noticing—really noticing—how the quiet didn’t feel oppressive anymore. It wasn’t heavy or suffocating. It was just… there. And for the first time in what felt like forever, it was bearable.

When you turned to him, your gaze was steady, searching but not invasive. “Do you think you’ll ever feel normal again?”

The question caught him off guard. It wasn’t laced with pity or weighed down with expectation—it was just honest. Simple. It twisted something inside him all the same. Harry swallowed hard, the knot in his chest pulling tighter.

“I don’t know what normal is,” he admitted, his voice low, like he was confessing something fragile to the night itself. “Maybe I.. never really did.”

You nodded, like that answer didn’t surprise you. Like it wasn’t the wrong one. “I think a lot of us feel that way.”

You didn’t push, didn’t prod for more, and that—more than anything—made him want to keep going.

“When it ended…” He trailed off, his eyes dropping to his hands on the railing. They looked unfamiliar, scarred and pale against the stone. “I thought it would stop. The hurt. I thought I’d feel relieved.” His jaw tightened, and the next words slipped out like they had been waiting for years. “But it didn’t. And now I don’t know if it ever will.”

The admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Harry’s fingers curled against the railing, the cold bite of the stone grounding him. He didn’t look at you—he couldn’t. He didn’t know what he’d see in your eyes, and some part of him was afraid of it.

“You lost so much,” you said softly, your voice steady but laced with something achingly gentle. “It’s okay to feel like that. No one expects you to just move on.”

Harry let out a hollow laugh, bitter and quiet. “Everyone expects me to be fine. To be Harry Potter, the one who saved everyone.” He gestured vaguely to himself, his voice cracking under the weight of it. “They don’t want to see this. Whatever this is.”

“I do,” you said, your voice unwavering.

The words hit him like a punch to the chest, knocking the air clean out of him. His head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours. There was no hesitation in your expression, no doubt. Just quiet sincerity, so clear and certain it left him breathless.

“Why?” The question fell from his lips before he could stop it.

You shrugged, a faint, bittersweet smile curving your lips. “Because… you’re more than what everyone sees. And because I think you deserve someone who doesn’t just want the shiny bits of you.”

Harry stared at you, his chest tightening painfully. He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to process something so simple yet staggering. No one had ever said anything like that to him before—at least, not in a way that felt this real.

The air between you shifted, heavier now, like it was carrying something unspoken, something fragile but undeniable. You weren’t touching, but Harry could still feel the warmth of you beside him, like a presence he didn’t want to lose. His heart pounded harder, the sound of it loud in his ears.

“I don’t think I deserve it,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

Your brows knit together, a flicker of sadness crossing your face, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you stepped closer, close enough that he could see the faint curve of your lashes, the soft press of your lips. “I think you do.”

Harry inhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the railing as you moved into his space. His pulse thundered, and his mind raced with the weight of the moment, with how close you were, with the quiet pull of something he wasn’t sure he had the strength to reach for.

“I don’t want to screw this up,” he whispered, the words raw and fractured.

“You won’t,” you said softly, your voice steady but kind. “But you don’t have to decide anything right now.”

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and he felt something shift in him—like a thread unraveling after being pulled too tight for too long. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers brushing yours again.

This time, you didn’t just let the touch linger. You let your fingers twine with his, warm and certain, the weight of it enough to crack the walls he’d been holding up for so long.

Harry’s breath hitched as your fingers laced with his, the touch so simple yet carrying the weight of something he didn’t quite know how to name. It sent a ripple through him—a warmth that started in his chest and spread outward, leaving a faint ache in its wake. His grip tightened slightly, hesitant but sure, and he drew in a shaky breath, trying to ground himself in the moment.

You didn’t push him, didn’t say a word. You just stayed there, steady and close, your thumb brushing softly over the back of his hand. The stars above blurred into the edges of his vision, the castle fading into shadow. The world narrowed until it was only you, your touch, and the quiet hum of something unspoken between you.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice low and uneven. His green eyes searched yours, wide and vulnerable in a way that made his chest feel both too tight and too open. “I don’t know how to let myself… feel like this.”

You didn’t flinch or pull back. Instead, you gave him a small, steady smile, your free hand lifting, hovering just near his arm, a silent question. “You don’t have to know how. You just have to let it happen.”

Harry exhaled, shaky and raw, but didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned closer, his forehead almost brushing yours. His heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else, but for once, he didn’t care. He was tired of holding himself together, of keeping everyone out, of pretending he didn’t need this.

And then, almost instinctively, he closed the space between you.

The kiss was gentle, hesitant, like he was afraid of breaking something fragile. Or maybe breaking himself. But the moment your hand slid to his cheek, grounding him, something inside him unraveled. He pressed deeper into the kiss, his other hand rising to rest lightly at your waist. It wasn’t desperate or hurried—it was slow, deliberate, filled with everything he couldn’t put into words.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, pulling him closer, and Harry felt something crack open in his chest. It wasn’t pain, but a kind of aching relief, as though he’d been holding his breath for years and was finally allowed to exhale. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t drowning.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the cool night air, Harry didn’t go far. His forehead rested lightly against yours, his hand still at your waist, his fingers curling slightly against the fabric as though afraid you might disappear if he let go.

“Sorry,” he murmured, though there was no regret in his voice, only uncertainty. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” you interrupted, your voice soft but certain. Your hand slid down to rest over his chest, where his heart still raced beneath your touch. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A quiet laugh slipped from him, more a sigh than anything else. “I’m not used to this.”

“Neither am I,” you admitted, your fingers tracing small, absent shapes against the fabric of his shirt. “But.. I think we’re allowed to have this. Even after everything.”

Your words settled deep in his chest, heavy and grounding in a way that didn’t feel like a burden. He didn’t know if he fully believed you—not yet—but for the first time, he wanted to. He wanted to let himself try, to let himself have this, even if it scared him.

“Stay,” he said quietly, the word barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a question. It was a plea.

Your lips curved into a small, tender smile, and you nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

─────────────

The space between you thrummed with tension, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but electric, alive with everything unspoken. Harry’s hand lingered at your waist, the tips of his fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt, hesitant but wanting. His other hand gripped the railing behind you, steadying himself as he leaned in, his lips hovering just shy of yours. Your heart pounded, loud enough to drown out the quiet of the night.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you tilted closer, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt, clutching the soft cotton as though it might keep you tethered. His breath ghosted over your lips, warm and uneven, and when he kissed you again, it was different this time—no hesitation, no doubt.

It started slow, the way it had before, soft and searching. But when you pressed closer, your body molding against his, something inside him gave way. The kiss deepened, shifting into something more urgent, more unrestrained, as if the careful control he had been holding onto had finally slipped. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, nothing else existed but the heat between you.

Your hands slid up his chest, fingers trailing over the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He felt so solid beneath your palms, so real, and yet the way he kissed you was anything but careful. Your hands found his shoulders, clutching tightly as he kissed you harder, his need for you palpable. One of his hands left the railing to thread through your hair, his fingers tangling there with a kind of reverence that sent a shiver down your spine.

The rough stone at your back was cool, grounding, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of Harry’s body pressed against yours. He seemed to be everywhere at once, overwhelming in the best way.

“Is this okay?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and unsteady.

You nodded quickly, your breath catching as he kissed you again, more certain this time. “Yes,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling. Your fingers slid to the nape of his neck, brushing against the soft, slightly damp strands of his hair. “More than okay.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips left yours, trailing down along your jaw, slow and deliberate. When he reached the curve of your neck, the heat of his breath against your skin sent a spark shooting through you, and you couldn’t stop the quiet sound that escaped your lips.

The noise seemed to break something in him. His hand slid lower, from your waist to your hip, his thumb grazing the bare skin just above the waistband of your jeans. His name slipped from your lips without thinking, and Harry groaned softly, the sound reverberating against your throat. He pressed you more firmly against the railing, his body bracketing yours as though he wanted to block out the rest of the world.

His mouth continued its path along the line of your throat, slow and reverent, stopping just above the collar of your shirt. Every kiss left a trail of fire in its wake, every touch pulling you deeper into him.

“Tell me if—” he started, his voice hoarse and uneven, but you cut him off, your hands gripping his shirt to pull him back up to kiss you again. This time, you were the one who deepened it, letting him feel the weight of everything you couldn’t say. He responded instantly, his hands roaming over your waist, your hips, your back, as though trying to memorize the shape of you.

You broke the kiss only when you couldn’t breathe, your forehead resting against his as you whispered, “Not here.”

Harry froze for a moment, his breath heavy against your lips, his eyes locked on yours. They were dark, intense, filled with something raw and vulnerable. You half-expected him to hesitate, but instead, he nodded, his hand sliding down to find yours. His grip was warm, firm, and steady, like it was the only thing anchoring him.

“Come on,” he said quietly, his voice low and sure.

You didn’t need to ask where. You just followed, your hand in his, trusting him completely.

─────────────

Harry led you through the castle’s dim corridors, his hand steady in yours. The silence wasn’t awkward—it buzzed with anticipation, each step echoing softly against the stone walls. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding you in the moment, though the occasional brush of his thumb against your skin sent a quiet thrill through you, making it harder to focus on anything but him.

He didn’t tell you where he was taking you, and you didn’t ask. You trusted him completely.

When he stopped, it was outside an empty classroom near the Charms corridor. The door creaked softly as he pushed it open, revealing a quiet space bathed in silvery moonlight pouring through tall, arched windows. The room was unremarkable, desks and chairs pushed to the sides, but it felt secluded—safe. A haven away from the weight of everything outside.

Harry let go of your hand only to close the door behind you, locking it with a flick of his wand. The soft click echoed in the stillness, and your pulse quickened as he turned back to face you. His gaze met yours, sharp and intense, and for a moment, you felt frozen under the weight of it.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low, almost uncertain.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you stepped forward, your hands finding the front of his shirt again, pulling him down into a kiss that left no room for doubt. His lips met yours hungrily, and his hands found your waist, anchoring you against him. This time, there was no hesitation in the way he held you, his touch firm but reverent, like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

The kiss deepened quickly, the tension that had simmered between you all night spilling over like floodwaters. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, his body pressed against yours like he couldn’t bear even a breath of space between you. Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward, and he broke the kiss only long enough to let you pull it over his head, the fabric falling to the floor.

Your gaze drifted over his chest, tracing the faint scars etched across his skin, each one a reminder of everything he’d endured. The moonlight highlighted every line, every curve of muscle, and for a moment, he looked vulnerable—unsure. His chest rose and fell quickly, his nerves evident, but you didn’t let him linger there.

Your fingers brushed over his scars, soft and deliberate, and you leaned in to kiss him again. He melted into it, his hesitance replaced by a quiet urgency as his hands slid to your hips. His lips left yours to trail down your jaw, finding your neck, his kisses slow and infused with something akin to hunger. The heat of his mouth against your skin made you shiver, your breath catching as his fingers found the hem of your shirt and lifted it.

You raised your arms to let him pull it off, and when he stepped back just slightly, his gaze lingered on you in the moonlight, reverent and full of something raw that made warmth bloom low in your stomach.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to say it aloud.

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, his hands wandering your sides and back, like he was mapping every inch of you. You barely noticed the edge of a desk pressing into the backs of your thighs as he guided you backward, his movements growing bolder with each passing moment.

Your fingers drifted down his chest, following the ridges of his muscles until they found the waistband of his jeans. You worked the button free, and Harry let out a low groan, his forehead dropping to yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice strained, his green eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart stumble.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of nerves and desire coursing through you. “I want this. I want you.”

Something in his expression shifted, the raw emotion behind his gaze making your chest ache. He kissed you again, slower this time, as though he was trying to pour every unsaid word, every feeling he couldn’t name, into the press of his lips.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you onto the desk with ease. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, the warmth of him against you making your breath hitch. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered sound felt all-consuming, pulling you deeper into him.

The world outside disappeared. There was no war, no expectations, no fear. Just Harry—the feel of his hands, the heat of his mouth, the quiet way he murmured your name like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight you both carried didn’t matter. In this moment, there was nothing but the two of you, and that was enough.

Harry’s hands gripped your thighs firmly, his touch grounding and electric all at once. His kisses grew hungrier, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he’d been holding back for far too long. The edge of the desk pressed into your back, but the slight discomfort melted away beneath the heat of his body pressing against yours. Everything about him—his hands, his lips, the low, ragged sounds he made—consumed you entirely.

Your fingers worked at the top of his jeans, fumbling slightly in your haste. Harry groaned softly against your mouth as you finally managed to pull them down, his breath hitching sharply when your hands slipped below the waistband of his boxers brushing against the heated skin just above his throbbing length. His hips jerked slightly at the contact, and the sound that escaped his lips was low and guttural, sending a rush of heat spiraling through you.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His green eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, and filled with something raw that made your pulse stutter. His hands slid to your hips, fingers brushing against the hem of your jeans. “Can I?” he asked, his voice low and rough, barely steady.

“Please,” you breathed, lifting your hips to help him.

His gaze stayed locked on you as he slid your jeans down, the fabric brushing against your skin in a way that left you shivering. The look in his eyes made your breath catch—a mixture of reverence and want, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His hands trembled slightly as he tossed the jeans aside, and the way his gaze raked over you, slow and deliberate, made warmth bloom low in your stomach.

“You’re…” He trailed off, his words faltering as his eyes met yours again. He didn’t need to finish the sentence; the intensity in his expression said everything his voice couldn’t.

You reached for him, pulling him closer until his bare chest pressed against yours. The heat of his skin against yours sent a shiver through you, and when his hands slid back to your thighs, parting them just slightly, you gasped quietly. His lips found yours again, slower this time, deeper. Each kiss was deliberate, filled with a need that made your whole body tremble.

One of his hands slipped between your legs, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your underwear. The touch was tentative at first, testing, but when a soft moan slipped from your lips, his confidence grew. His fingers pressed more firmly, tracing the heat of you through the fabric, and you arched into his touch instinctively, the sensation overwhelming.

“God, you’re so—” Harry broke off with a groan, his free hand gripping your thigh tightly as you rolled your hips against his hand. His breathing was unsteady now, ragged and uneven. “You’re perfect.”

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making your pulse race. You reached for him, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers, finally pulling the restrictive barrier between the two of you down. His forehead dropped to your shoulder as your hand wrapped around him, the heat and weight of him making your own breath falter. He let out a strangled moan, his hips rocking instinctively into your touch.

“Wait,” he murmured, his voice tight, like he was holding on to the last threads of control. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands trembling as they moved to your waist. “I want to—can I—”

You nodded quickly, your cheeks warm, reaching for him again to help guide his length inside you. The desk creaked faintly as he stepped closer, his hands finding your hips as he lined himself up with you. He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the world stilled.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice softer this time, steady but full of emotion.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice sure despite the nerves and anticipation rushing through you. “I want this, Harry. I want you—all of you.”

That was all he needed.

Harry leaned in, his lips finding yours again as he pushed forward, slow and purposeful. The initial stretch made you tense, your fingers instinctively tightening against his shoulders. But then his breath brushed warm against your cheek, and the soft, shaky sound he let out as he slid deeper sent a ripple through you, easing the tension and replacing it with something else entirely—something that left you breathless.

“You okay?” he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. His voice was tight, laced with restraint, and it made your heart ache in the best way.

“Yes,” you whispered, your nails digging lightly into his skin as your body adjusted to him. “Just… don’t stop.”

His jaw tightened, and he nodded, his hands trembling slightly where they gripped your waist. He started to move, his hips rolling in a slow, achingly delicious rhythm that made your breath catch. Each motion sent a wave of heat building steadily through you, your body arching instinctively toward his as though you couldn’t get close enough.

“God,” he groaned, the sound rough and raw as it left him. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you slightly to meet his thrusts, and the shift made you gasp. Your head fell back against the desk as the new angle sent a spark shooting through you. “You feel so—”

The rest of his words broke off into a low curse, his lips finding your neck again as his movements quickened. The world beyond the room ceased to exist—the only things that mattered were the soft creak of the desk beneath you, the heat of his body against yours, and the quiet, desperate noises that escaped him with every thrust.

Your hips tilted to meet his rhythm, and the friction left you dizzy, sparks lighting beneath your skin. Your hands slid into his hair, tangling in the messy strands as his face buried in the curve of your shoulder. His breath was hot against your skin, and each groan that escaped his lips sent a shiver coursing down your spine, your body arching into his as the pressure low in your belly coiled tighter.

“Harry,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips like a plea, raw and unrestrained. His response was a groan that seemed to echo through you, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his touch almost possessive as he pulled you closer.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, the words rough against your skin, reverent and awed. His voice broke slightly as he added, “I—I can’t…”

“Don’t hold back,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure. Your hands slid down his back, clutching at his waist to anchor yourself. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

For a brief moment, his pace faltered, his forehead pressing against yours as though grounding himself in the moment. And then he kissed you again, hard and desperate, his lips crashing into yours as though he needed you more than air. His rhythm grew uneven, each thrust deeper, more precise, until the tension inside you snapped.

The wave that crashed over you left you trembling, your body shuddering in his arms as the heat and intensity overwhelmed you. His name slipped from your lips again, barely audible, as you clung to him.

Moments later, Harry followed, his movements faltering as he buried himself in you one final time. A low, guttural sound escaped his lips as he trembled against you, his forehead dropping to yours. His breaths came fast and ragged, his chest heaving as he held you close, his hands gripping your hips as though afraid to let go.

For a long time, neither of you moved. The room was silent except for the soft hum of your breathing, the faint rustle of fabric as Harry shifted, wrapping his arms more securely around you. He pulled you close, his body still trembling faintly, and you rested your head against his shoulder, your fingers tracing aimless patterns across his back.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a moment, his voice hoarse but filled with quiet concern.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you tilted your head just enough to brush a kiss against his neck. “More than okay,” you whispered.

Harry let out a quiet laugh, low and warm, his arms tightening around you. “Me too,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against your temple.

Finally, for what seemed like an eternity. Everything felt right, it felt okay. Like harry could just..exist again.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

#☆.— 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗳 #harry potter #harry potter fluff #harry potter x reader #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry james potter x you #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter smut #harry james potter x reader smut #.1𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘀 🤍

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bambisworlds · 3 months ago

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after show special

harry can't wait to get you alone after his concert, so he takes you to his dressing room (1,383 word count)

content warnings, mdni 18+

f!reader, slight dom!harry, sassy!harry, cocky!harry, established relationship, oral (f. receiving), fingering, light squirting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), light breath play, spanking (once), praise, creampie, no direct character description, use of "good girl", let me know if i missed anything x

my masterlist

this is my first fic, please be nice i'm sensitive lol <3

I bit my lip with a slight smile as I started to record Harry while he sang Watermelon Sugar. Like magnets, his eyes found mine in the crowd. I smiled as his gaze landed on me. I expected him to blow a kiss, or do something cute for the camera like usual, but the look he gave me... I knew I was fucked.

The minute Harry walked off the stage he pulled me into a devouring kiss. My brain seemed to block out the screams of the fans, which got louder when his lips touched mine. All I could feel was him.

"Come with me," he smirks, yanking my hand to drag me along. He pulled me through the hallways until we reached his dressing room. He practically shoved me inside then kicked the door shut and locked it behind him. He walked over and scooped me up into his arms, my legs dangling around his waist. He set me on the leather couch, immediately attacking me with kisses while his hands explored my body like his life depended on it. My back arched off the sofa in an attempt to maximize the closeness between us. His hands moved down to grip my thighs beneath my skirt, squeezing the soft flesh. While our tongues tangled together he pushed my legs up to my chest and pulled away, settling between my spread legs in a flash.

He sat on the balls of his feet as he ripped my panties off, literally. With a moan he launched forward, burying his face between my thighs. The rings on his fingers dug into the sensitive flesh of my thighs as he ate me out with wild abandon.

My lips parted into an 'oh' shape as my head fell back against the couch. My hands blindly reach for something and grip onto the leather cushions of the couch. The lewd slurping and wet sounds from between my legs spurred me on, and the groaning of the leather couch when I fidgeted.

I gasped and reached down to grip his hair as he pistoned his tongue in and out of my hole. My back arches off the bed from the delicious friction. I look down at Harry briefly to realize his eyes have been locked on my face the entire time. His eyes were dark, heated with sexual energy. I shivered under his gaze and he smirked, focusing back on my pussy.

Harry pulled back briefly, spit on my pussy, then went back at it. "Jesus..." I mutter, my eyes fluttering shut as he suctioned on my clit. Harry's hands disappeared from my thighs as he began to remove his rings. He mutters 'stupid fuckin' things' as he struggles to get one off. The second it was off he haphazardly tossed it onto the floor. His left hand pushed my left thigh up against my chest again and he slid his right middle finger into me. I gasp and my back arches from the lewd squelch of his finger pumping into me.

"Fuck," he moans lowly from the audible wetness of my cunt. With a gravelly groan, he began to lick and suck on my clit again, his middle finger pumping in and out of me. I squirt slightly as his finger brushes against my g-spot and Harry moans loudly, his eyes rolling back as he eats me out with renewed vigor, his finger pumping faster.

My moans grow more desperate as my orgasm builds rapidly within me. My mouth drops open and I arch off the bed as I cum. My thighs tremble and squeeze around Harry's head tightly but his ministrations don't relent.

Only when I go limp and the trembling of my legs turn to twitching does he pull away with a satisfied sigh, his lips and chin glistening in my slick. As if unable to resist, he leans back in to place a long lick up my slit before finally rising to his feet.

My eyes follow his face as I stand. My breasts were heaving beneath the tight, black, crop top I was wearing. My eyes flickered down the obvious bulge in his trousers as he rose to his full height and I gulped.

Harry bends down, picks me up, and spins us around so I'm sitting on his lap. He leans in and captures his lips with mine, kissing me hungrily as he shoves my shirt up over the swell of my breasts. Without looking, he yanks my bra down so my breasts spill out and his large hands cup them eagerly. I moan sweetly as I kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue as his hands squeeze and grope at my tits.

I roll my hips as we kiss, rubbing my bare cunt against the bulge in his trousers. Harry smirks against my lips with a dark chuckle, "Need something, princess?" he teases, his breath hot against my lips. He pulls back from my mouth as he unzips his trousers and pulls his cock out. I subconsciously lick my lips, looking back and forth between his face and hardened cock. "Go ahead then," he says flatly. He leans back against the couch with a cocky smirk. It amazed me how he was so sweet to me in everyday life, then turned into a smug bastard whenever we had sex. I'll admit, it's hot.

I reach down and give his cock a few slow tugs before lifting myself and hovering over it. His eyes remain locked on my face as I position the tip at my entrance. My hips rock subtly as I coat the head of his cock in my juices and he bites his lip. His eyes flicker down between my legs briefly before returning to my face. "You gonna play with it all day, or fuck it?" Harry asks flatly. I roll my eyes good-naturedly and slowly sink onto his cock.

Harry lets out a ragged moan, his head falling back against the sofa. "That's it," he encourages as I slowly work my way down his impressive length. When I lower myself completely, so his balls were pressed against my ass, he hisses, "Jesus Christ."

I refocus on his face. His eyes were blown out and filled with hunger as he stared at me. My hips begin to rock in slow motions and Harry's mouth drops open.

"Fuck yeah," he encourages, resting his large hands on my hips. He guides my movements, yet allows me to pick the pace. My lips part in a breathy moan as I continue my slow, tantalizing movements. Harry's moans were all the encouragement I needed as I began to bounce on his lap. "Oh fuck," he gasps as I start to bounce enthusiastically on him. He let out a heavy breath with each of my downward thrusts, his green eyes flickering all over my body.

The wet slap of flesh only spurred me on further. Harry's hands began to roam over my body. They slid up my sides, to my breasts, then up until one of them wrapped loosely around my throat. The display made my pussy clench and he smirked knowingly, tightening his grip.

Harry's other hand came down on my ass with a sharp smack, "Keep going." he says huskily and I moan desperately in response, picking up my pace.

"Oh god," I gasp, my eyes squeezing shut as the coil in me threatens to snap. My movements become desperate and erratic as I chase my release. Harry's moans grow louder, his hand tightening around my throat.

"Good job baby, come on my cock," he encourages breathlessly.

After a few more desperate motions I cum, my body shuddering violently. I let out a shaky moan and fell forward so my forehead rested against his shoulders.

"Fucking hell," Harry grunts, bucking his hips up into mine as he cums as well. I moan sweetly as I feel the familiar warmth of his cum inside me and roll my hips slightly, prolonging both of our pleasures. After a few moments, I shiver and still on his lap. We both pant as we come down from our highs. "I almost cut the set list in half just so we could do this." Harry chuckles breathily and his head falls back against the couch, sighing in satisfaction.

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below any of my posts or in my submissions!! (check here: about my blog to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x oc #harry styles x original character #bambisworlds

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shixcherie · 2 months ago

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Finally Found You | Park Seonghwa ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 19 : Temprature Play (ice)

↬ [ Synopsis ] : Seonghwa finally found you and have no intention of letting you go ever. Childhood friends meeting after ten years, a wild night with some cold ice while you explore each other’s temprature.What more could you ask for ?

☆Word Count : 2.8k ☆Genre : Smut, Angst, Non-Idol, Childhoold friend Au ☆Pairing : Childhood friend! Seonghwa x F.Reader

☆☆☆ WARNINGS : mdni!, Childhood friends to loves, pure smut(18+), a lil bit of plot, old memories, sulky Seonghwa, butterfly kisses, nipple play, temprature play with ice cubes, Soft dom! Seonghwa, he takes the lead, fingering (f.reciveing), oral (f.recieving), kinda graphic and detailed, pet names (baby), Seonghwa is definitely in love.

NOTE : So my friend who is also a writer, suggested that we write a story based on each other’s fav songs. “Finally Found You” by Enrique Iglesias is her fav song so I wrote this piece while she wrote based on my fav song, ‘Adore You” by Harry Styles.

Also I am Grinding hard to catchup my loves as my exams had a chokehold on me so please show some love for this Day 19 fic. Hope you enjoy the heck outta it ma chéries.

The flickering light from the screen illuminated Seonghwa’s room, casting shadows over his sharp features as he leaned forward, completely absorbed in the footage. On the screen, a younger version of himself ran across a grassy field, laughter ringing out as a girl chased after him. They must’ve been around fourteen, barely old enough to understand the world, but old enough to know how much they meant to each other.

You.

The camera panned to you as you tackled him, both of you tumbling into the grass in a fit of giggles. He smiled faintly, his fingers brushing over the TV screen as if he could somehow touch the memory.

Ten years. No contact. No explanation.

He let out a soft sigh, the nostalgic warmth of the memory fading, replaced by a hollow ache.

Where had you gone? Would you ever meet again? He could only hope... to finally find you.

There was a loud bang on the door as Seonghwa grumbled in his sleep. The people on the other side had really been getting under his skin for a while now. All he wanted was a few days of peace, a few days alone to bask in the warm, nostalgic memories of you. Telling them about you, about his past and his feelings for you, his childhood friend had been a mistake.

A big fucking mistake.

“Hyung! Open up, or else San’s gonna break the door down!” Wooyoung screamed from the other side.

Mingi, San, and Wooyoung had been trying to get him out of the house to stop him from being so gloomy and sulky. He appreciated their effort and concern, but today he just wanted to wallow in those sweet, happy teenage memories. But the three menaces outside wanted him out, partying and dancing in the club.

This has to be the worst day, he thought to himself before reluctantly getting off the couch and heading out with the three devils.

Seonghwa hadn’t wanted to go out tonight. He wasn’t in the mood for loud music, flashing lights, or the usual chaos his friends thrived on. But Wooyoung, San, and Mingi hadn’t given him much of a choice, practically dragging him through the club’s doors.

“Come on, hyung! You’ve been sulking long enough!” Wooyoung shouted over the pounding bass. “This is your night to relax!”

San handed him a drink, grinning. “You need to loosen up. Have some fun.”

“I was having fun.” Seonghwa shot back, narrowing his eyes playfully at his kitten-lookalike of a friend.

“That’s called being depressed, not fun,” Mingi teased, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been sitting around like a sad poet waiting for inspiration. What’s next? Writing tragic love songs about sunsets and heartbreak?”

Seonghwa barely heard his friends, his attention already pulled toward the dance floor. There, among the writhing, sweaty bodies and neon lights, was a figure that seemed familiar. Your silhouette swayed to the music, moving alluringly with your back turned toward him. But something about the way you moved struck him deep in his chest, and the reel of memories started playing in front of his eyes.

Was it… you? That’s not possible… right? How could you be here, and... wow—HOW?

His heart raced, a decade’s worth of longing suddenly rising to the surface. He clenched his jaw, unsure whether to believe his own eyes. You looked beautiful in that shimmery, buttery yellow dress, eyes closed as your body moved to the beat. His eyes scanned your form from head to toe, and he gulped at the heat rising through his body.

His expression didn’t go unnoticed by his mates, who exchanged knowing looks.

Mingi nudged him, smirking. “What are you waiting for? Go say hi!”

Seonghwa shook his head, hesitating.

What if he was wrong? What if approaching you now would reopen wounds that had barely healed? What if it’s not even you?

“I’m not sure.” he muttered, taking a cautious sip of his drink.

But his friends weren’t having any of it. Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “If you won’t go, then I will.”

“Wooyoung-ah, hold your horses. Let’s not scare her away, okay?” San said, being the gentleman of the group. “Let’s make things easier for him.” San signaled to the bartender.

As you finally made your way off the dance floor, the bartender tapped your shoulder. “Hey, the guy standing over there wants to know if you’ll give him your number.”

You followed the bartender’s gaze, your eyes landing on Seonghwa. Instantly, your heart skipped a beat. You knew that face anywhere, even after all these years. He hadn’t changed, if anything, he’d only gotten more handsome, more intense, more sexy.

But you didn’t rush over to him. Instead, you smiled to yourself, pulling out a pen and scribbling your number on a tissue. You paused, deciding to add a little message.

"Finally found you? You should’ve come over yourself."

With a cheeky grin, you handed the tissue back to the bartender. “Give him this.”

As you left the club, you glanced over your shoulder one last time. His eyes were still on you as he read the paper, but he hadn’t moved. Not yet. But you knew this was only the beginning.

After ten years. Park Seonghwa. Finally found you.

Not the worst of days then. Who was he kidding? This was the second-best day of his life, the first being the day he met you for the first time.

Panic surged through him as he saw you leaving, your figure disappearing through the exit door. Putting his drink aside, he ran. He could hear his friends cheering for him as he maneuvered through the sweaty bodies on the dance floor, finally reaching the other side of the club.

Outside, the cool night air hit him, refreshing but doing little to calm his rising anxiety. He spotted you a few blocks away, your silhouette illuminated by the streetlights, and your shimmery dress glowing in the dark.

“Hey! Y/N, wait!” he shouted, pushing himself to run faster.

You turned, surprise flickering across your face as you saw him approaching. “Seonghwa?”

He stopped a few feet away, breathing heavily but grinning. “I didn’t think you’d actually leave without letting me catch up.”

You laughed, the sound light and carefree. “You looked pretty engrossed back there. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Interrupt? Meeting you after ten years—and that too so randomly—had to be the highlight of my night,” he replied, stepping closer, emboldened by the thrill of the chase.

“Smooth talker, huh?” you teased, but your eyes sparkled with interest.

“Only when it comes to you, you look so pretty.” he said, catching your gaze. Blinking away the embarrassment of what he had just said, he focused back on you. “Y/n, I really want to talk. Can we—”

“Let’s go grab some late-night snacks, then. We can crash at my hotel room.” you suggested, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

You filled him in on all the details. How you had to move away suddenly, why you couldn’t keep in touch, and how you were finally back for a few days but planned to move here permanently in a few months. He shared everything that had been going on in his life. Ten years was not a short time, but every moment you both spent walking to the hotel felt like an eternity.

Your heart fluttered, a faint hope surging within you. Maybe he was single, maybe there was a chance he still had feelings for you like you did back then. But both of you chickened out, and no one confessed, and then you left.

As you entered your hotel room, the warmth enveloped you, contrasting sharply with the cool evening air outside. Soft lighting cast a gentle glow around the space, highlighting the plush bedding and inviting ambiance.

“Make yourself comfortable.” you said, gesturing toward the bed as you moved toward the mini-fridge tucked away in the corner. You could feel Seonghwa's gaze on you, intensifying the air around you.

You both chatted for a bit, sipping on the champagne. The bubbly liquid warmed you from the inside, loosening any anxious nerves. You settled on the bed, inviting Seonghwa to join you. He accepted, sitting close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Remember the last time we shared a drink ?” you asked teasingly, referring to the childish stuff you both had done at the age of fifteen.

“How could I forget? You challenged me to finish a whole bottle and ended up on the floor,” he chuckled, shaking his head, reminiscing about the time you had snuck a bottle of booze out of your daddy’s office.

As the laughter faded, a silence settled between you, thick with unspoken tension. Seonghwa leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, and before you could think, his lips captured yours in a gentle yet passionate kiss. It felt electric, igniting the spark that had been cooled for the past ten years.

You melted into him, responding with equal intensity as the kiss deepened, your hands tangling in his hair. But just as you began to lose yourself in the moment, he pulled away, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “I’ve missed this… missed you.”

With a playful glint in his eye, he reached for the bucket of ice. He grabbed a few ice cubes, holding them between his fingers as he leaned closer. With ease, he pushed you against the mattress, now on top of you. He dropped one cube at the intersection of your collarbones, and you gasped at the sudden chill while he followed the cube with his lips, all while skillfully stripping both of you of your clothes.

The ice cube melted in his hand as he rubbed it against your skin, tracing a slow, teasing path from your collarbones down to your shoulders. Each movement sent shivers through you, the contrast of the cold ice against your warm body igniting a fiery need deep within.

Seonghwa’s lips followed the ice’s trail, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses where the cube had touched, his mouth radiating heat that intensified the moment even more. He captured your lips again, the kiss deepening with a passion and urgency, as if he wanted to make up for the past ten years in this one night.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he murmured, his breath warm against your sensitive skin. You nodded, unable to form words, lost in the intoxicating pleasure as only a moan escaped your lips.

Seonghwa held the ice cube delicately between his fingers, gliding it teasingly over your navel, then inching dangerously closer to the spot where you ached for him most.

His kisses trailed lower, his lips brushing the skin between your breasts. His hot breath lingered at the swell of your breasts before he lavished attention on them, his warm mouth enveloping your right breast, fueled by the soft gasps and whimpers escaping your lips. The ice cube, still clutched in his other hand, glided down your body, trailing seductively over your stomach, teasing your senses as it drew nearer to where you craved him most.

With a torturously slow pace, he let the ice slide between your thighs, teasingly brushing against your dripping core. The cool sensation sent a shock of pleasure through you, causing you to moan softly, your back arching in response.

Seonghwa’s lips never left your nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue as he expertly rubbed the ice cube against your sensitive folds. Each movement was a tantalizing mix of cold and warmth, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your entire body.

“Seonghwa…” you gasped, the sensation overwhelming as he continued to work the ice against your clit, the chill contrasting sharply with the heat building within you. “Oh God, that feels—”

“Good?” he murmured, looking up at you with an almost devilish grin, his lips still wrapped around your nipple. The sight of him, dark hair falling over his forehead, eyes locked onto yours, made your heart race with desire.

“Heavenly…” you replied, only able to get that one word out, as your brain turned to mush from the overwhelming sensations. As he picked up the pace, rubbing the ice more intensely against your slickness, your body responded to the beautiful rhythm he had set, every flick of his wrist and gentle squeeze of the ice making you moan louder as waves of pleasure coursed through you.

The sensation of the ice rubbing over your dripping cunt was intoxicating, each icy touch driving you closer to the edge. “Seonghwa, please...ahhh...don’t stop.” you begged, your voice breathless. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your moans, the gentle clinking of the ice, and the wet sounds of your arousal.

“Mmhmm..” he hummed, his voice muffled as he continued to suck on your nipple, alternating between teasing with the ice and pressing the cube deeper against your clit.

“Seonghwa! I’m...oh God, I’m s-so close!” you moaned, lost in the bliss he was creating.

With each movement, your toes curled, the sensations pushing you closer and closer to the brink. The way he worked his mouth and the ice together sent you spiraling into a blissful haze, leaving you breathless. You felt your body tighten, a wave of pleasure washing over you as you moaned his name loudly, whimpering at the beautiful release.

But was Seonghwa done with you? Heck no! He wanted more to fill the void of ten years.

Seonghwa’s lips trailed lower, leaving a burning path down your body. His warm breath ghosted over your thighs as he settled between them, his hands guiding your legs apart. The coolness of the ice cube between his fingers brought a gasp from your lips as he slowly circled the ice around your clit, sending a thrilling, almost unbearable jolt through you.

The chill against such a sensitive spot made you squirm, your hips bucking up instinctively. “Hwa...” you moaned, his name spilling from your lips in a needy whisper. He had waited ten years for this, literally!

He grinned against your thigh, clearly enjoying your reaction, before his other hand moved, fingers slipping inside you with an ease that had your breath catching in your throat. His digits curled just right, matching the rhythm of the ice against your clit.

Your moans grew louder, more urgent, as he quickened the pace, his fingers thrusting into you while the ice slowly melted, leaving a cool trail over your heated skin. The friction, the cold, the way his hand moved inside you—it all built up in waves that you could barely contain. Again!

“Come on, baby. Can I have one more?” he whispered, voice husky with desire as he kept up the seductive rhythm. His mouth finally joined the ice, his lips warm and soft as they replaced the cube, flicking your clit with his tongue in slow, sensual strokes. It sent you spiraling.

The pleasure hit you like a mix of fire and ice combined. Your toes curled, your fingers twisted in the sheets, and you cried out, lost in the intensity of the moment. He didn’t stop, didn’t let up until he had coaxed every last bit of that orgasm from you, drawing it out until your whole body trembled in blissful release.

Seonghwa didn’t waste a moment. As you lay there, body still trembling from the waves of your orgasm, he leaned down, his breath brushing your sensitive skin. His mouth hovered just above your slick folds, teasing you slowly and deliberately.

He flicked his tongue against your dripping cunt, tasting the aftermath of your release.

The sensation made you gasp, your body jolting in response. You were still so sensitive, but his tongue was impossibly gentle. And that only made the heat build again, the fire inside you reigniting quicker than you thought possible.

He licked you slowly, savoring each stroke of his tongue, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you from squirming and moving away from the overwhelming pleasure. You could feel yourself unraveling again, the wet sounds of his tongue against you mixing with your soft moans.

“Hwa,babe I-” you tried to speak, but your voice broke, lost in the incoming pleasure. He smirked against your core, clearly knowing exactly what he was doing to you. His tongue swirled, flicked, and then he sucked gently on your clit, driving you closer and closer to that edge once more.

The second orgasm hit you harder, your body arching off the bed as you cried out. His name rolled off your lips like a prayer. It was intense, overwhelming, your entire body responding to every flick of his tongue and every stroke of his hand. Your fingers found his hair, gripping tightly as he drew out your pleasure, his mouth never leaving you until he licked every drop of your sweet release.

Seonghwa finally pulled back, his lips glistening with your release as he looked up at you with that same playful grin. "This is how much I missed you," he said, causing your heart to swell. In an attempt to capture his lips, you tried getting up from the bed, only to be met by his gentle lips again halfway.

“Glad I finally found you.” you said, smiling into the kiss.

You knew he was gonna get you.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

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ahqkas · 7 months ago

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♯ TOO SWEET ; mattheo riddle

❛ i take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at 3, you’re too sweet for me ❜

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! in which mattheo recalled the two times you were too sweet for him (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 4.1k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! consummation of alcohol, lovesick mattheo, fluff, angst, a lot of my hcs for mattheo’s past (i wrote him the way i see him), lmk if i missed smth !!

NOTES! this is purely my view on mattheo’s character bc the hc i wrote suit him sm 😿😿 reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated <3

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

ONCE A MAN FALLS IN LOVE, he finds himself drawn to not just the physical beauty of his muse, but for the essence of who the person truly is - their quirks, intelligence, kindness, and their unique way of seeing the world. Every interaction, every shared experience, every memory he brings, adds another layer to his adoration towards the love of his life.

His love for them is evident in the little things - the way he watches them when they aren't looking, the small gestures of thoughtfulness, the silent support during their dark moments of life. It's in the way he listens, truly listens, to the hopes and dreams, fears and frustrations, always eager to offer his thoughts and ideas. This love manifests in his desire to be their anchor in times of storm, their cheerleader in moments of triumph, and their person in all the in-betweens. It is a love that values their independence and individuality, recognizing that they are their own person with their own journey, and yet, he longs to be a part of that journey, to walk alongside them and share in their joys and sorrows of life.

Mattheo Riddle was no different.

He marvels at your kindness, your sweetness, and the light you bring into his life. You are his muse, his inspiration, a spark of the goodness that stands in stark contrast to his own perceived flaws and insecurities he feels deep inside himself. He sees you as an angel, a pure and radiant being who somehow chose to share your life with him, despite his own imperfections and inner demons.

He sees you as an angel in a human form, who chose to live among the devils, just so he could feel the heavenly touch for the first and last time in all eternity.

He often wonders how he, with all his rough edges, hidden scars, and a past life without a happy memory, could be worthy of your love. He feels like a monster, haunted by past mistakes and burdened by the weight of his own fears and failings. You, on the other hand, are everything he aspires to be - kind, compassionate, and endlessly forgiving. Your presence in his life is a constant reminder of the beauty and grace that he lacks, and yet, your love makes him strive to be better, to rise above his darkness and become someone worthy of your affection.

In his heart, he knows that your love is transforming him, helping him to heal and grow. Your existence is a light that dispels his inner darkness, a reminder for him to cherish that even monsters like him can be loved. He clings to this, that your love is making him a better man, one day at a time.

01. THE PARTY

The Slytherin common room was full of shadows and flickering lights, transformed into a wild moment of freedom for the night. The music, a thundering beat that echoed off the stone walls, could be heard from miles away, yet no professor or ghost visited the common room to cancel the party. It was as if the ancient castle itself had granted this one night of freedom to its most cunning and ambitious students. The rhythmic thrum of bass notes and the infectious melody of the latest wizarding hits filled the air, blending with the sound of laughter and the clink of glasses.

Bodies moved in a hypnotic dance, swaying in sync with the music. The students had discarded their usual aloof demeanors and uniforms, lost in the euphoria and joy of the moment. Green and silver decorations adorned every surface, shimmering under the enchanted lights that hung from the ceiling like glowing jewels. Laughter rang out, high and clear, mingling with the deep, resonant hum of conversation.

In one corner, a group of seventh years huddled together, their heads bent close in a whisper, before erupting into loud laughter. Nearby, a couple twirled around each other, their bodies intertwining like dark waves, eyes locked in their private world amidst the chaos around them. The fireplace, usually a place of quiet contemplation, was now surrounded by students perched on its stone ledge, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of the night and alcohol.

Long tables filled with food and drink stretched along one wall, bearing the weight of a feast other students could be jealous of. Platters of magical meals, charmed to stay warm, smelled of aromas that mingled with the scent of butterbeer and stronger beverages. Bottles of firewhisky and elf-made wine were passed from hand to hand, each sip fueling the atmosphere more and more as drunken the students got. The alcohol flowed freely, loosening tongues, transforming even the shyest students into party animals of the night.

The Slytherin common room had never felt so alive. Tonight, they were not just the students of Hogwarts; they were a family, united by their house and their understanding of what it meant to be a Slytherin.

Mattheo Riddle was one of those students who were enjoying themselves tonight. His breathing features were illuminated by the green lights as he leaned casually against a stone wall, a cup of firewhisky filled to the brim in his hand. The amber liquid sloshed perilously close to the edge with each of his slowed gestures, but Mattheo seemed unconcerned, clearly lost in the haze of alcohol. His dark curls, usually styled in the way that made uncountable amount of girls fall on their knees, now fell loose around his face as you watched from a close distance.

He was engaged in a drunken conversation with Theodore Nott, whose tall, lanky frame was the opposite to Mattheo's more athletic build. Theo's typically serious demeanor had softened, his features relaxed into a rare, genuine smile as he listened to Mattheo's ramblings with a giggle threatening to spill out from his lips. The two of them, often seen together, now looked like true brothers. It was almost scary how much they resembled family when they were drunk.

Mattheo's voice, rich and slightly slurred, carried over the music as he recounted a particularly outrageous story from his recent fight. Theodore threw his head back and laughed. It was clear to anyone how close those two boys were, drunk or sober.

"Can you believe he actually thought I was serious?" Mattheo snickered with a big grin stretching across his face, taking a swig from his cup, the whiskey burning a warm path down his throat. "I mean, I barely managed to keep a straight face!"

Theodore laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're a menace, Riddle. One of these days, you're going to get expelled."

"Ah, but tonight isn't that night, mate," Mattheo replied with a slow wink, raising his glass in a mock toast. "To living dangerously and laughing in the face of consequences!"

They clinked their cups together, the sound barely audible over the throbbing beat of the music and you thought now was the best time to approach your boyfriend.

Mattheo's brown irises scanned the crowd, catching a look of you as you pushed your way through the crowd of dancing bodies. The sight of you instantly brightened his expression and a genuine smile spread across his face. He felt a rush of emotions that the whiskey in his hand only intensified, each beat of his heart echoing with the certainty that what he held for you was pure love. The Slytherin straightened up, his posture shifting from the casual slouch of a carefree boy to the attentive stance of a man. Theodore noticed the change and a knowing smirk made its appearance on his lips as he stepped aside, giving the two of you a moment of privacy.

"[Name]," your boyfriend called out, his voice full of warmth. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you came closer. "There you are, love."

You beamed up at him, your eyes reflecting the party's enchanted lights, making them look like twin stars. "Having fun, are we?" you teased and the tone of your voice carried a playful match that always managed to make his heart skip a beat.

"Only now that you're here," he replied. The world around you seemed to blur as he gazed down at you, all the noise and chaos fading into the background. "You make everything better."

Drunk on both the whiskey and his overwhelming affection, the boy's usual reservations melted away. He held you close, his hands resting on your waist as if anchoring himself to your presence. When he was sober or feeling down at heart, his love for you was often hidden beneath layers of stoicism and insecurity, but now, in this moment of happy drunkenness, it shone through.

He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips, enjoying the sweetness of the contact. "I'm so lucky to have you," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't deserve you, but I'm going to spend every day trying to be worthy of your love."

“You have no idea what you mean to me. I look at you and . . . it’s like you’re the sun and I’m just a planet orbiting around you, soaking up your light,” he continued without a break. The boy wanted to get every one of his words out as fast as humanly possible. To show you his hidden feelings he wasn't able to tell you before. “You’re my everything, [Name]. I don’t know how I got so lucky. You’re so kind, so . . . good. And me? I’m just . . . I’m a mess, you know? A monster sometimes.”

You shook your head lightly and took his hands into your own, enveloping him with your warmth. He was starting to get emotional, and you didn't need to have your boyfriend drunkenly mopping around. His mood changed like weather when alcohol got involved. “You’re not a monster, Mattheo. You’re human. We all have our demons.”

“But you,” he didn't allow you to finish your sentence before he spoke up again, his voice raw with sincerity, “you make me want to be better. For you. I see you, and I just want to be the man you deserve. I’m not always good at it, but I try. I try because you’re worth it.”

You could see the glazed look in his eyes as he swayed slightly on the spot. He was rough around the edges, you couldn't deny the truth, but he was the sweetest boy when he managed to fall in love. Which wasn't exactly difficult, Mattheo fell in love easily. But when he did, it was worth everything. Mattheo was your sweet boy. “Love,” you said softly to him, your voice filled with gentle concern to the brim, “you’ve had a bit too much to drink. Maybe it’s time to slow down a little, okay?”

Mattheo blinked, giving you a lopsided grin, his expression a mix of boyish charm and pure happiness. “But I’m fine, [nickname]. I feel great. Better than great, actually. With you here, everything’s perfect.”

“I know you’re having a good time, but I don’t want you to feel terrible tomorrow. Let’s take a break from the firewhisky for now, alright?”

He pouted slightly, his shoulders slumping as he realized you were actually serious. “You’re probably right,” he admitted, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “But only because you’re asking me.” You chuckled softly at his behavior, threading your fingers through his and gently leading him away from the dancing crowd. You navigated through the common room, moving towards a quieter corner of the space where a plush couch sat, inviting you both in with open arms. The room’s enchantments cast soft shadows on the walls, the flickering lights creating a soothing atmosphere.

“Here, sit down,” you instructed as you guided him to sit on the couch. Mattheo obeyed, sinking into the cushions with a contented sigh. You sat beside him, your hand never leaving his. You took the half-empty cup of whiskey from his hold, reaching for a glass of water on the table nearby instead and handing it to him. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Mattheo took the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. He took a long sip, the cool water a welcome relief from the heat of the alcohol he consumed. “You really do take good care of me, don’t you?” he murmured, his head resting against the back of the couch as he looked at you with a mixture of admiration and exhaustion.

“Someone has to,” you replied playfully, brushing a stray curl of hair from his forehead. “And I wouldn’t want anyone else to have the job.”

As the night wore on, Mattheo felt a warmth spreading through him that was only partly due to the whiskey. It was the warmth of belonging, of being surrounded by friends who understood and accepted him, flaws and all. Despite his often rough exterior, he was deeply grateful for these moments, these stolen hours of joy in the corners of the Slytherin common room.

02 - THE MARK

The past has a profound power to shape a man, especially when that past is influenced by suffering at the hands of a father.

For Mattheo Riddle, his family history was the darkest shadow of all the shadows that clung to him, a reminder of the pain and fear that had molded his entire life. Raised in a home devoid of warmth, where love was a foreign concept and cruelty was a daily reality, Mattheo had learned to build tall and thick walls around his heart. A shield to protect him from more hurt that would come his way.

The orphanage was a harsh place, stripped of the luxuries the boy had unknowingly been born into. It was a world of strict discipline and a poor form of affection. The caretakers, overwhelmed and underfunded, had little patience for a child with such a notorious legacy. Mattheo grew up under the weight of whispers and sideways glances, the infamous name "Riddle" ensuring he was never just another child. The women of the orphanage knew his father, having taken care of him when he was around the same age as his son. What a wicked child Tom was. Mattheo was different because of that, marked, and this awareness shaped his formative years in ways he could barely comprehend.

As he grew older, the whispers about his family name became more pronounced. The children at the orphanage were cruel. “Monster,” they called him, creating the very fears that nested within his own heart. He began to internalize these taunts, seeing himself through the lens of his father's sins. The idea that he could be worthy of love seemed more and more distant, more of a fantasy that had no place in his reality. But the same idea of letting someone see past his defenses, of allowing someone to love him despite his flaws, seemed not only impossible but dangerous. For how could anyone love a monster, especially one crafted by his own father?

Despite this, Mattheo yearned for something more. He longed for the kind of love he had never known, a love that was gentle and kind, that saw past his scars and accepted him for who he was. But every time he felt himself getting close to someone, the fear surged up, a wave of doubt and self-loathing washed over him and forced him to retreat behind his walls again. It was a never-ending cycle.

Hogwarts had saved him.

Mattheo Riddle’s first steps into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were met with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and apprehension. For the other students, he was a figure of whispered rumors, his infamous last name carrying with it a weight of fear and fascination. They had heard the stories of his father’s dark acts, of the legacy that haunted the halls of the castle like a ghost. But for Mattheo himself, Hogwarts represented a new beginning, a chance to escape the personal hell he called the orphanage and create his own path. The boy was no longer just another orphan. Here, he could be anything he wanted to be.

He wasn't deaf. The young boy could feel the weight of his father’s name bearing down on him like an invisible burden. And he wasn't blind either. He saw the way the other students looked at him, their eyes flickering with a mixture of fear and suspicion. They didn’t openly taunt him as the children in the orphanage had done, but he could sense the whispers and the wary glances that followed him wherever he went. For Mattheo, however, their fear was a source of power. He reveled in the attention, in the way his presence commanded respect, even if it was tinged with fear. He was finally someone.

He excelled in his classes, his natural talent and restless ambition setting him apart from his peers. But it was on the Quidditch pitch that Mattheo truly came into his own. Flying high above the castle grounds, he felt a sense of freedom unlike anything he had ever known. With every twist and turn of his broomstick, he left behind the weight of his past and embraced the thrill of the present, making him feel like a bird.

Six years had passed since Mattheo Riddle first walked through the grand doors of Hogwarts, a hopeful and determined young wizard with dreams of greatness he was so sure he'd achieve. But now, as he entered his sixth year at the renowned school of magic, the world around him had shifted irrevocably. The return of Lord Voldemort two years prior had plunged the wizarding world into chaos, and with it, Mattheo’s life had been destroyed once again.

Even among his fellow Slytherins, Mattheo felt like an outsider, a traitor to his own house and everything it stood for. He had once prided himself on his ambition and cunning, on his unwavering determination to succeed at any cost. But it didn't matter anymore.

Mattheo sat alone in the quiet atmosphere of the Astronomy Tower, his gaze fixed on the night sky that sparkled with millions of stars. Each twinkling light seemed to mock him, making fun of the darkness that now stained his soul even more than before. His fingers gripped the sleeve of his jacket tightly, as if seeking some comfort in the fabric, but finding none.

On his left forearm, the Dark Mark burned like a brand upon his skin. It was a mark of shame, of betrayal, and every time he looked upon it, he felt a sickening sense of disgust and self-loathing. He had thought that by aligning himself with the Dark Lord, his father, he would finally be able to escape the shadows of his past, to prove himself worthy of the name Riddle and his father's presence. But now, he realized that he had only succeeded in plunging himself deeper into the deep hole. Even the orphanage was better than this.

The footsteps behind him shattered the sweet silence, echoing off the stone walls of the tower. Mattheo tensed, his heart racing as he turned to face the intruder, steeling himself for whatever judgment or punishment awaited him. But as he turned, he was met not with the accusing glare of Filch or the triumphant sneer of a rival, but with the concerned gaze of a familiar face. It was you, with your eyes filled with worry as you approached him slowly, as if he'd disappear if you were a bit louder.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Are you alright?”

No, he wasn't alright. But he would be caught dead sooner than having you worry about him like that and more.

He forced a tight-lipped smile, attempting to mask the emotions raging within him. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining the facade. “Just . . . thinking.”

You stepped closer, taking a seat on the ground beside him. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Mattheo. I know something’s been troubling you lately. You can talk to me.”

You were his angel, full of that purity and light he adored about you in a world darkened by his own sins. He longed to confide in you, to unburden himself of the guilt and shame that had consumed him since he had received the Dark Mark. But the fear of your rejection, of you seeing him for the monster he believed himself to be, held him back. It would shatter his heart, to see the pained expression on your face.

“I . . .” he began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the words, "there's something I need to show you." With a heavy heart and trembling hands, Mattheo finally mustered the courage to reveal the truth to you. For months, he had carried the burden of the dark secret alone, pushing you out and shutting you down in an attempt to shield and protect you from the darkness that was his father. But now, as he sat before you, his heart and his soul laid bare, he knew that he could no longer hide from the truth. The boy reached for the sleeve of his jacket, his fingers fumbling as he pushed the fabric up to reveal the twisted lines of the Dark Mark etched upon his skin. The sight of it made him recoil, a wave of shame washing over him as he exposed his deepest, darkest secret to the one person he had sworn to protect.

Your eyes widened in shock as you took in the mark, your palm flying to your mouth in disbelief. For a long moment, there was silence between the two of you, broken only by the sound of your shallow breathing and the distant hum of the night owls.

“I received this a few weeks ago," Mattheo confessed, his eyes avoiding yours. "When he decided I was good enough for him."

He felt your gaze on him, eyes searching his face for answers. He could see the confusion and concern written in your expression, but beneath it all, he saw something else - a flicker of understanding and acceptance that filled him with both hope and fear. How can someone be so good to someone like him? "I've been living with the Malfoys ever since," he continued, the words tumbling out in a rush as he struggled to explain himself. "But it's not what you think, [Name]. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be a part of his plans, to be branded as one of his followers. But I had no choice. He made me do it."

Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke, and he felt a desperate plea for forgiveness in his chest. He needed you to understand, to see past the mistakes that consumed him and into the depths of his soul where his love for you burned bright and true. The thought of losing you hurt him more than the Cruciatus curse ever could.

“Forgive me. For shutting you out, for pushing you away. I was scared, I was ashamed . . . but I can't bear to keep this secret from you any longer. You deserve to know the truth, even if it means losing you forever."

Your heart swelled with a bittersweet mixture of sorrow as you gazed upon Mattheo, your sweet boy, sitting there before you with tears in his eyes and the weight of the world upon his shoulders. In that moment, all you wanted was to wrap him in your arms and shield him from the pain and darkness that threatened to consume him. With shaky hands, you reached out to him, fingers brushing against the mark of his father's followers etched upon his skin. The sight of it filled you with a fit of fierce anger, but beneath it all, you saw the boy you so dearly loved - a boy who had been shaped by his past but who was so much more than the picture of his scars.

"Love," you whispered into the dark, taking his face into your hands and wiping away those tears that managed to escape his control, "there's nothing to forgive. Nothing in this world could ever tear us apart, not even your father or that mark."

In that moment, Mattheo knew that he would do anything for you, that he would move heaven and earth to ensure your happiness and safety. You were his light in the darkness, his angel in a world filled with demons, and he would cherish that for the time being his heart swelled at the thought of you. You were simply too sweet for him and you knew that Mattheo’s struggles were far from over, but for tonight, that was enough.

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the-boy-meets-evil · 1 month ago

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as wild and untamable as the sea | l.c

pairing: greek god!chan x reincarnated sea nymph!f!reader genre: angst, romance, smut | reincarnation, fantasy, greek gods!au rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~15.8k warnings: mentions of past unhealthy relationships, (possibly inaccurate) greek mythology, lots of POV switches (but i don't think it's confusing) mentions of eating, explicit smut, multiple sex positions, unprotected sex (just don't), slight edging, overstimulation, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), chan is strong and very in control, i think that's all but let me know if it's not

summary: Chan remembers everything. Every little thing that's happened to him since his days as one of the twelve Olympians. Poseidon to be exact. Even though he tries not to think about it now that he's living in modern times running a sad little aquarium, some memories are more vivid than others. Then, you stumble into his life and he can't explain the draw. You can't seem to figure out how this man is keeping an aquarium like this running when it seems like it's not that busy. Something about him really seems to put you off, despite the fact that he seems drawn to you. None of it makes any sense...until it does.

a/n: this is for the 13 Gods of Olympus collab that @beomcoups & @wooahaeproductions have been tirelessly working on. thank you so much for hosting this! i know this isn't the end for this couple, but i really needed to get this out into the world. if you want to know what happens next with them, let me know.

a/n 2: this is semi-unedited and i'm just throwing it out into the world but i'll come back. if you see anything glaring, no you didn't!

tag list: @illiadiaz, @syluslittlecrows, @yini-yang, @fancypeacepersona, @bitchlessdino, @newjihoonie, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tusswrites, @cookiearmy

Another day, another dollar.

Wasn’t that what the humans said about another day spent working at some mindless job? Despite all the years he’s spent blending into their world, Chan still doesn’t really understand the humans. Doesn’t really understand why they put up with so many things they seemingly hate. Doesn’t really understand why they waste their short lives on something that makes them miserable. But, in fairness to the humans, Chan has also never had to worry about the trivial things that come along with working like money, possessions, or a home. When you’re one of the original gods of Olympus and life is seemingly infinite, money isn’t really an issue.

That’s who Chan was in another lifetime: Poseidon. The God of the Sea, among other things. At least, until Olympus fell. A painful thought that he usually tries to push from his mind.

In the early days after Olympus fell, Chan still went through life acknowledging who he was. He leveraged his powers for favors or for payment. He used his control of the water and everything in it to get him what he needed. But, the years went by and the Olympians became the stuff of myth. Of stories. The kind of characters that you read about in books. Only the most eccentric members of society continue to worship the Olympians as if they’re real. Which they are, Chan reminds himself. Or, they were. As the faith faded, so did the Olympians’ belief in restoring themselves to full power. One by one, they gave up the task of finding a way back until it was only Chan and Zeus left. Two of the brightest minds of Olympus. Even they had to admit their own defeat.

Which leads to the present day. Chan has taken on a new persona, for the…well, he’s lost track of what number this one is. He’s just thankful for his ability to shapeshift into someone new whenever he needs to. Takes a new name every time, too. At first, he tried to keep in touch with his siblings and the other Olympians. That, too, fades over time. It’s been at least a century since he’s spoken to any of them. Though, occasionally, he’ll catch wind of something through the chattering of local sea creatures. Something that says at least some of them are still out there.

Chan sighs. There’s really no reason for him to be wandering down memory lane in this way. He thinks, not for the first time, that maybe he needs to pick a different cover job. One that will keep his mind a little more occupied. The reality is, though, he’s tried nearly everything he could think of over the centuries. Changing professions is a frequent occurrence when he doesn’t want to let his body show too many signs of age. Not that he minds, it’s just that people start to ask too many questions about how he’s handling things someone “his age” shouldn’t be able to handle. In the end, working with sea life has always been the best. And this set up, where he’s running a smaller aquarium off of some long forgotten boardwalk in an area that doesn’t get much traffic, is also great. It isn’t even that Chan doesn’t like being around people. He finds humans entertaining in most senses. It’s just that nothing in this life is permanent for him. He’s not going to fall in love and grow old with someone. Best to just keep things at arm’s length.

Most days are more or less the same and Chan works the majority of them. On the rare days off, he’s not far away since his little house is within walking distance of both the aquarium, the boardwalk it’s on, and the water. He trusts the limited staff that he has because he pays them well. Better than any other similar business, but he values loyalty. And they don’t seem to question how he’s able to make things work. That is largely due to the anonymous donors that make monthly contributions to the aquarium. Really, it’s just Chan funneling money that he’s earned over his many years on Earth so that he can keep a business afloat. Nobody seems to have anything to say. Beyond the staff not asking questions, they are all very good at their jobs. It makes life easier for Chan that way because he doesn’t have to micromanage them. Everyone knows what they’re supposed to do and will only ask questions if they hit an actual block. No, the aquarium runs very smoothly. It just doesn’t get a lot of business.

Since every day kind of blends together, Chan almost never realizes as days or weeks or even months pass by. He’s in a sort of autopilot where he also knows what he has to do and just does it without question. It’s just rinse and repeat day in and day out.��

Until it’s not. Until the first day that he notices you in his small, out of the way little aquarium. Until the day that everything starts to change.

You’re not really sure what pulls you in for the first time. You’ve probably passed this sad little aquarium dozens of times without giving it a second thought. Then, one day, you decide that you might as well go in. The cost of admission is incredibly reasonable, but you think that’s probably why you haven’t gone sooner. It might seem counterintuitive. You just wonder how well the animals can be taken care of with such a low cost of admission. You’re not sure if you can handle seeing animals mistreated. Still, there’s no going back now. Even with the outside seemingly a little poorly cared for, you still find your feet pulling you forward.

You’ve never been more wrong about anything in your life.

The dingy outside gives way to a vibrant inside that’s teeming with love and light. The art on the walls is carefully curated to match the different areas of the aquarium. There are workers with genuine smiles going about their days. Even the animals seem to be happy. It’s also deceptively large on the inside. It makes you wonder why it looks so run down from the outside. Surely, someone that cares this much about the animals could care a little more for the outside as well. Maybe that’s the point. Why waste money on an outside nobody really cares about when it can go to the best care possible?

Almost immediately, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. Just this morning, you were ready to explode from all the stress in your life. Now, stress feels like the furthest thing from your mind. In fact, you can’t even remember what you were stressed about. Strange. This is the first time you remember a single place erasing any sort of worry. Just as you’re about to consider that the place holds some kind of magic, you realize that not everyone seems to be as at ease. A mother scolds her child and an elderly couple bicker. It breaks a little bit of the illusion, though you still feel calm.

Subconsciously, your feet carry you to the area with the sea otters. They have always been some of your favorites, even if they’re not the typical sea resident that people think about. As you watch on, two chase each other around the enclosure. They seem like they must be young with the way they can’t seem to stop playing. It’s incredibly endearing to watch. Another, slightly larger, otter emerges from around a bend and the original two quickly dip under the water to shoot off. It almost seems like a mother scolding her children, but maybe you’re creating too many stories within your own mind. Your imagination, especially around sea life, can be a bit active.

A few minutes later, a worker comes out and starts feeding all the otters. They’re quick to come and get the food, showing just how many there are. You weren’t expecting to see such a large population in this off-the-beaten-path aquarium. The man feeding them looks young, but that’s true of nearly everyone that you’ve seen here. They all look young and entirely too pretty. This man is no different. He’s sporting a very blond, shaggy semi-mullet that doesn’t look like it could possibly be his natural hair color. Yet, it looks remarkably believable on him. When you frown at the amount of food he’s giving to the otters, he walks over to the side of the enclosure and leans on the railing close to you. He tosses a bucket of crab legs out into the water and the otters go crazy for that. It seems an odd choice for animals living in captivity, but what do you know?

“Did you know,” the man begins, “that sea otters eat 25% of their weight in food every day?”

Well. That certainly explains it. “I didn’t.”

“I like to give them the crab legs too because it’s a fun little activity for them,” he carries on with a smile. “It’s also something they’d eat in the wild.”

“That seems…expensive,” you say carefully.

The man only smiles bigger. “Oh it is! But our boss has really great donors for the aquarium and we can afford to feed them well.”

“Well, then the otters are definitely lucky,” you note and turn back to the otters.

“We all are. Chan takes care of us just as well as all the animals that live here,” he says.

“Chan?” you ask.

“Oh, our boss,” the man carries on happily. “I’m Soonyoung, by the way.”

You take his extended hand and give your own name in response. Soonyoung happily carries on with telling you all about the otters they have, including the name of each one. Then he offers to take you on a tour of the aquarium because of your interest. It’s too nice of an offer to turn down. It also further proves that you should not judge a book by its cover. Every inch of the aquarium is so masterfully cared for and every living being seems happy. That is, if a fish can also seem happy. The tanks aren’t overcrowded or dirty. And, you can’t explain it, but you can just tell they’re happy. Each person that they encounter seems to genuinely love their job. You’re not even sure why you’re paying such close attention. Or why you care so much.

Truthfully, there’s always been something of a call to the ocean. A peace that comes over you when you’re near the water. It was enough to get you to move cities, figuring that would satisfy that need. The pull only got stronger. Plenty of people feel at peace surrounded by water, you reason, and don’t think further on it. You don’t consider that worrying about the conditions in an aquarium may not be normal. Don’t consider that most people don’t start getting moody when they’ve been separated from the ocean too long. Don’t consider that it really is only the ocean. Although sometimes a freshwater lake, when it’s big enough with plenty of fish in it, will fill up your cup, it never lasts as long. It also never works to alleviate your mood when you do something as simple as going into the pool.

The trip around the aquarium with Soonyoung seems like exactly what you need. Until suddenly, it doesn’t. As he’s taking you through an exhibit area, a young man appears from behind a closed door marked as Staff Only. He’s got a dress shirt on with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His short dark hair highlights striking features. And, you think, he would be beautiful if it weren’t for the frown on his face. He looks entirely too serious for someone so young. He’s also much more dressed up than anyone else at the aquarium.

“Oh, there he is!” Soonyoung exclaims, causing the man to turn towards the two of you. His face softens a bit at seeing Soonyoung before studying you somewhat quizzically.

“Soon,” he says with the air of someone exasperated at Soonyoung’s antics.

“This is Chan, our boss,” Soonyoung carries on and your eyebrows fly into your hairline as he introduces you to his boss.

Truthfully, Chan looks younger than Soonyoung in some ways. But, there’s a wisdom in his face that your new friend lacks. Like he’s lived a hundred lifetimes already. It catches you off guard. But, Chan extends his hand to shake yours and that’s when you feel it. A sudden surge of annoyance that lasts only as long as your hands are connected. If he feels anything, he doesn’t show it. His smile is friendly and it only confuses you further.

A moment later, Chan excuses himself from the pair of you and Soonyoung leads you away to continue the tour. You can’t really shake the odd feeling you got from the handshake, though. When Soonyoung concludes his tour, you ask about opportunities to volunteer. There’s something about this place that feels like home and you’re not really sure what it is. Soonyoung’s face brightens.

“Chan doesn’t believe in volunteers. Even if you only come in once a month, he pays you for your time and obviously waives the entrance fee so you can come visit even when you’re not working,” he says with a bright smile.

“Oh, I don’t need a job…” you start before he waves you off.

“Leave me your contact information and I’ll pass it on. He coordinates everything himself and he can go over it all with you. I’m sure he’d be happy to have another animal lover around here,” Soonyoung says with a smile that you can’t ignore. You just met this man, why are you already incapable of saying no to him?

“Do you have some paper?” you ask.

Chan spends the rest of the day thinking about you after a simple handshake. Then, when Soonyoung tells him that you’re interested in helping out, his pulse races in a way that’s entirely foreign to him. He can’t remember the last time a human turned his world upside down with something so seemingly trivial. In fact, he was so focused on keeping his face neutral, he didn’t notice the look on your face in response to him. He’s too concerned with seeing you again to consider anything else. Too consumed by the need to unravel whatever mystery there is to you that he can’t seem to place. Honestly, Chan can’t remember the last time he felt anything even approaching this. Nothing makes him really feel in this way. Not anymore, at least. He finds himself counting down until your first shift.

Until it actually gets here, that is.

You report to Chan’s office, just as he asks. He holds his breath as you cast your eyes around his office area. Wonders what you’re thinking when your gaze lingers on certain things within the office. For a second, Chan considers whether it seems human enough. It’s been nearly a year since anyone new joined the staff and he wonders if he’s gotten sloppy. Nothing in your face seems to give any sort of feeling away. It surprises Chan a bit that he can’t seem to read anything about you. When your eyes rest on him, he sees a flicker of something he can’t place. Something that looks an awful lot like annoyance.

He confirms it when his hand accidentally grazes yours to hand over your new ID. It says volunteer since you insist on only being there when you have the time, but it’s a full ID anyway. That’s just how Chan does things. When his hand meets yours briefly, he gets the sharpest flash of irritation he’s ever felt. It’s confusing because it is definitely not his own emotion that he’s feeling. And that’s not something that Chan can remember happening before either. Not like this at least.

Chan has powers, he knows that. He can, sometimes, tune into the emotions of others. It’s easiest when he’s trying to tune into a sea animal or someone at home in water. Back before Olympus fell, he was able to tune into the emotions or even the minds of all the creatures in the sea, like the sirens, sea nymphs, merpeople, and everything else you could imagine. Even then, he usually has to actively try to tap into those emotions. It’s not something that just…happens. Not when all he’s done is let his hand graze someone else’s. Not when he’s not actively trying to feel something. It shouldn’t be something that happens with a mere human, either.

You, for your part, don’t seem to realize there’s anything out of the ordinary. Your face looks the same. The same annoyance that you’re trying your hardest to mask under a poor attempt at indifference. Trying to shake it off, Chan calls for Soonyoung to come into the office. But, that doesn’t make it any better. It’s worse, really, because your face immediately changes into one of genuine happiness. Soonyoung seems just as happy to see you and happy at the prospect of showing you around. To be fair, Soonyoung always seems happy when there’s someone new around for him to chat with. Still, your face lighting up for him frustrates Chan in a way he can’t explain.

Your first few times volunteering at the aquarium go really smoothly. Well, once you’re handed off to Soonyoung, it’s smooth. There’s just something about your new boss that you can’t really put your finger on. Seeing him causes annoyance to flare within you. It’s something deep that you can’t really explain and can’t recall feeling before. There’s no reason for you to dislike this man. He’s really just a man, which shouldn’t be enough on its own. Whenever he’s around, he’s perfectly friendly. It’s obvious that he cares deeply for every living thing within the aquarium. This is something he’s incredibly passionate about, which should endear him to you. Yet, it doesn’t. You can’t recall ever disliking a fellow animal lover until now.

Thankfully, you don’t really have to deal with Chan very often. Soonyoung handles your training when you’re working, but everyone that works there seems kind. And everyone seems young. The place is full of bright-eyed 20-somethings who all genuinely seem to want to be there. It contributes to that little nagging feeling in that back of your mind that something is just…off. Not with anyone that works there apart from Chan, though.

Soonyoung seems delighted to see how quickly the otters warm up to you. Apparently, they can be a bit picky with new people. But, the first time you meet them, they all flock to you instead of their normal handler. Anyone else might be frustrated. Instead, he only thinks it’s cute that they seem to love you. Tells you that he thinks he means you're a good person. Apparently, he often judges people based on how the animals react. You both have that in common. It only seems to reinforce the point when this happens with each new enclosure you go to. None of the animals seem to treat you like a stranger. It’s more like they’re greeting an old friend. You can’t really explain that you feel the same way. Your brain periodically supplies a story for some of your new animal friends, too. It’s not the first time it’s happened and you figure it only makes sense in this setting. Your imagination is active and you love the sea creatures.

Each new visit to the aquarium seems somehow better than the last. Well, in most ways. You often feel Chan’s gaze on you before you even look over at him to check. And each time he is actually looking at you. There’s something that just sets your nerves on edge about it. Even the animals around you seem to react to the sudden surge of anger that courses through you. It’s a strong physical reaction without any clear reason that you can figure out. Yet, it’s the way you feel every time you sense his attention on you.

“You good?” Soonyoung asks, eyes cast down at your hands balled into fists.

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologize, turning back to him. “What were you saying?”

“What’s going on with you and Chan?” he asks skeptically.

“Between Chan and me?” you ask with clear surprise.

“Yeah,” he says. “He spends half the time you’re here watching you and…”

“He does, doesn’t he?” you ask, a little too loud. “What’s up with that?”

“What’s up with your hatred for him?” he asks instead.

“I don’t know, I just get a bad feeling,” you say after a moment. “Do you like him?”

“Do I like the boss that overpays me to hang out with animals all day?” he asks with a laugh. Then, he looks at your face and carries on. “Oh, you’re serious. Yeah, I love Chan. None of us really know him that well because he keeps his distance from the staff outside of work, mostly. But, he’s the best boss I can imagine having. I don’t ever get bad vibes off him.”

“Huh,” is all you say before turning back to whatever Soonyoung is teaching you.

Your eyes catch on the mysterious aquarium owner once again and that anger flares. But, you realize that it’s something more complicated than anger. It’s far too complex an emotion to put a name too and definitely too complex for someone you barely know.

It’s just odd you think, not for the first time, that someone seemingly so young is running an aquarium that doesn’t seem to be that busy. How is he affording to take care of the animals and pay his staff so well? How is someone that seems so unlikeable able to convince so many donors to give money when it could be better spent elsewhere?

The nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you seem to be the only person that doesn’t love Chan. Everyone on the staff seems to love him. The few donors his staff have met also seem to only have good things to say. You have to consider the possibility that your feelings about him could be personal or that you’re seeing something that doesn’t impact anyone else. It’s still weird, though. Nothing about this business model should work. Is that a reason to hate someone you don’t actually know? You’re not sure.

Chan speaks with a dolphin that he’s grown to trust. No, not Chan. Poseidon. He’s Poseidon again, in all his glory. And he’s asking the dolphin to find someone for him. He’s explaining where she might be and what to say to her when the dolphin finds her. Stressing how important it is that the dolphin is the one to find her because they’re not the only ones looking. There are others looking as well and Poseidon doesn’t want them to find her. It would be bad, he knows, if anyone but himself or someone working on his behalf were to discover the truth. He’s protecting her as much as he’s protecting himself. At least, that’s what his brain insists. Whether it’s true or not, well…

The scene blurs and shifts. Poseidon is once again by the sea and this time speaking to a giant squid instead of the dolphin. The squid tells him that the woman has been found. That the dolphin succeeded and is currently speaking to her. That brings Poseidon a small sense of relief. Surely, when she understands the situation, she’ll be not only willing to come home but happy to do so. Nothing can keep them separated any longer. They are truly meant to be.

Again, the scene blurs and shifts. This time, Poseidon sits on his throne, trident in hand, while one of his brother’s messengers kneels before him. When she rises, she delivers the message that Zeus has requested for Poseidon and his bride-to-be to join himself and Hera for an upcoming event. That’s not good, Poseidon thinks, not good at all. Surely his brother isn’t fully aware of the situation and yet he sends his messengers with invitations like this. Just as Poseidon prepares himself to make an excuse, the door to the room opens. Usually, he doesn’t allow interruptions, as his guards well know. But, the sight of his love walking through with her head held high keeps him from scolding the guards. He cannot believe that she’s back and walking in as if nothing happened. As if it hasn’t been weeks since they last saw each other. He got word she was coming back, but had not dared to hope for this.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, my love, but I heard your brother had sent an invitation,” she begins. The messenger won’t notice the hesitation or the emotions that pour off of her because she doesn’t have that gift. Poseidon feels it, though. It doesn’t put him at ease

“It’s fine. You are always welcome to hear anything shared here with me,” he says quickly.

She turns to the messenger with her signature soft smile. “I would still apologize for interrupting your message. However, I heard that you were here with an invitation. I fear that my darling may have declined as I was recently suffering an illness.”

“Yes, that is what I was about to do,” Poseidon agrees.

“There is no need for that as I have told you that I am feeling much better now,” she says with a brief, but calculated, smile at Poseidon. She returns to the messenger. “Please inform Zeus that we would be delighted to join him.”

“I am thankful to hear you’re feeling better and to…see you with my own eyes,” the messenger says slightly suspiciously.

“I am also thankful that I will get to see Hera. After all, we have so much to discuss with the upcoming wedding,” his bride-to-be says.

With pleasant goodbyes, the messenger takes her leave and Poseidon excuses the guards remaining in the chamber. He indicates that his bride should follow him to a much smaller room off to the side so that they can speak. After all, there is so much to discuss after her running away and only to finally return. Yes, she had indicated to the messenger that she intended to go through with the wedding, but Poseidon needs answers. He needs to know why she left and to impress upon her that she could not do something like that again.

Chan wakes up in the early hours of the morning in a cold sweat from the most vivid dream he’s had in centuries. The fact that a dream lingers at all is strange on its own. He doesn’t dream. Not anymore, at least. When he does, the subject is usually something inane and the remnants of it are gone by the time he’s fully awake. This dream is both vivid and lingering, seared into the back of his eyelids like it may never leave him. Perhaps it is because it’s not just a dream.

There’s a lot to Chan’s past that he wants to forget and for good reason. When he was one of the gods of Olympus, he made a lot of decisions that he wouldn’t make now. Or, he likes to think he wouldn’t make the same decisions now. It’s hard to remember the feeling of the weight of the world so many years later. But, he knows he did a lot of things in the interest of finding the greater good. Something that ruined some of his closest relationships and clearly still haunts him today.

Which leads him to this dream. A dream of Amphitrite. The legends about the gods of Olympus over the years have gotten a lot of information both right and wrong. Unfortunately, the legend of Poseidon and Amphitrite seems mostly right, at least to Chan. She was the one true love of his life. The only being in the entire universe that he actually wanted to spend an eternity with. And he had not treated her the way he should have. Hadn’t appreciated her and respected her autonomy the way he should have. That’s something he thinks about now, as he continues to mature and evolve to understand all the mistakes he made once upon a time. He knows that the way he tried to hold onto her was wrong and that he worried entirely too much about what the other Olympians would think if he lost her.

There’s also a part of him that lingers on the way she looked in the dream. He remembers that conversation because it actually happened. But, he’s not sure if he’s actually remembering the way she looked or the way he felt a tightness to his chest. That could just as easily be him looking back on the interaction through a different lens. There are so many things he wishes he could go back and change with her. So many things he wishes he could say. Mostly, even though he loved her more than he even loved himself, he wishes he could go back and give her the chance to walk away. To leave him without any sort of reprisal from the other Olympians.

After all these years, he regrets how their relationship went. It wasn’t love when someone didn’t have options. He knows that he can’t change the past. He knows that he can’t even ask for forgiveness. It’s part of why he keeps himself from getting too close to anyone now, he thinks. As a sort of penance for forcing the only one he ever loved into a marriage that he can’t say that she wanted. Of course, she told him when she came back it was because she wanted to. Insisted that she was just nervous to be thrust into such a spotlight by his side. Says that she was worried because he had other relationships with other people and she saw how it affected other Olympians, like Hera with Zeus. That wasn’t who she ever wanted to turn into. Chan took her at what she said. It was only after he lost her that he realized it may not have been the truth. Their love may not have been the great story that he created in his head.

He knows that he won’t be able to fall back to sleep, so he resigns himself to starting his day. After he gets ready, he sits down with a cup of coffee and his schedule for the aquarium. Today is the once per month visit from the local marine veterinarians. Although miraculously, it seems the animals never need much care, the vets still come in every month. They collect samples and run their tests to ensure that everything is going well as a general health study. They have staff that come over more frequently for some of the animals that need more consistent care. It’s also an excellent place to study since Chan allows them such complete access.

That monthly visit isn’t what really catches his eye. Your name is on the schedule and Soonyoung has you listed as the person who will be working with the vets to make sure they have the help they need. It’s standard, really, and Chan knows Soonyoung will be around as well. That man can never ignore a chance to chat with anyone that comes through regularly. Chan also knows that Soonyoung trusts you. There’s just something about your name that sends his stomach lurching without an explanation. Sure, you haven’t exactly been the warmest in the interactions with Chan, but you’re good at the jobs assigned. It’s like there’s something just on the edge of his consciousness about you. Something just out of reach. A connection that he should be able to make and can’t. At least, not yet.

Even though he’s going to be very early, he sets off for the aquarium and tries to shake the feeling that there’s something about you he should see. He’s never been very good when he can’t solve a problem. You may present his most complex puzzle yet.

It’s one of the best days since you first started volunteering at the aquarium. Somehow this is the first time you’ve gotten to see the vets there for a full day and it even makes you extend your own shift. Well, it’s partially influenced by Soonyoung’s offer to buy dinner if you’re still there when he gets finished. Mostly, though, you’re just fascinated watching the vets do their work. It’s interesting to see how willing the animals are to be still for tests and how it seems like they know what to expect. You know that animals are smart and they can learn. There’s something a little different about this, though. Not only do they seem to actually see the veterinarians, but they also actively wait their turns to be seen.

At the end of the day, you’re a little tired and feeling very accomplished at the same time. Maybe all of Soonyoung’s energy is actually infectious because you find that you’re ready to go get dinner with your friend after work. His presence is somehow calming to you even in all of the chaos. Once you make sure everything is done, you change into the spare clothes you have with you. The last thing you want is to smell like fish and whatever else got on you over the course of the day. Then, you go to find your friend.

“Hey, are you ready for dinner?” you ask without realizing that he’s standing with Chan.

“You guys have plans?” Chan asks with curiosity, looking from you back to Soonyoung.

Soonyoung looks incredibly apologetic. “I’m so sorry, but I completely forgot that it’s roomies night in and I can’t skip it because I missed the last one.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” you say quickly and wave it off.

“You should come! We always have a bunch of appetizers and stuff. I can’t remember what movie it is tonight, but it’ll be fun!” he says, as enthusiastic as ever. “I know I offered to buy dinner tonight…”

“I appreciate it, Soonie, but I think I’m just going to get dinner and go home,” you say. “I’m going to hold you to your dinner offer, though.”

“I was actually just about to go get something to eat myself,” Chan interrupts and you narrow your eyes. “I would be happy to get dinner for you as well as a thanks for everything you’ve been doing here.”

“I don’t want to make…” you start, only to have Soonyoung cut across you.

“That’s so nice of you, Chan,” he says and turns to you. “You should go! He’s got the best taste in restaurants. I still think about the last time he took all the staff out.”

“It’s really fine, I can just get something on my way home,” you say.

“I insist,” Chan says with something unreadable on his face. “Please. Let me say thank you for jumping in so completely.”

“Yeah, what reason could you have to say no?” Soonyoung asks with a smirk. That’s the other thing about your new friend. He can be such a shithead when he wants to be. Of course he’s using this to needle you about your dislike of the boss. It comes up at least once every time you’re at the aquarium (and plenty of times when you’re texting outside of work).

You sigh, knowing that there’s no easy way to get out of this. “Okay, let me just get my things and I’ll meet you at the entrance.”

The walk from the aquarium to Chan’s favorite restaurant is outwardly quiet. It’s not entirely uncomfortable to walk in silence with you. Or, it wouldn’t be if your emotions weren’t screaming into the silence. The general annoyance that seems to be present any time Chan is in the same space as you comes through loudest. There’s more now that it’s just the two of you outside of work now, too. He feels a kind of anger and distrust coming off of you along with confusion about why you feel any of these emotions. It takes time to separate that as your own confusion because Chan’s also confused. The two of you barely interact at work and yet your distaste for him rolls off of you in violent waves, like an angry ocean. It’s the only time he’s felt something like this from someone at work. Everyone else seems to like him at the very least. Something about you is very different.

Thankfully, it’s harder for Chan to sense you once you get into the restaurant. It’s a little busier since it’s a weekend, but you still get seated right away. If you’re impressed with how Chan greets the staff like old friends, you don’t show it. Just sit down in the chair and accept the menu with a smile before disappearing behind it. Suddenly, this doesn’t really seem like the best idea. What does it matter if you don’t like him?

“You don’t like me,” Chan announces a second later. He never has been able to let a mystery go unsolved. He’s also always prided himself on being able to work out a puzzle. He tries not to ever be as arrogant as his brother, though.

That makes you peer across the table at him. When he thinks you’re not going to answer, you blurt out: “No, I don’t,” and seem genuinely surprised.

Chan chuckles and looks back at the menu. “At least you admitted it.”

“I really don’t know why I just said that,” you carry on, setting your menu down.

“Is it not true?” Chan asks.

“No,” you say and that makes Chan raise his eyebrows. “I mean, it is true. I don’t really like you. I’m just not sure why…”

“Why you said it? Or why you don’t like me?” he presses.

“Both,” you say with a shrug.

“Can I ask you something?” he wonders.

“You can,” you say. “I’m not gonna promise to answer if I don’t want to.”

“That’s fair,” Chan says with a smile. “Why do you volunteer at the aquarium if you don’t like me?”

“I like to be around the animals,” you say immediately. “I feel at peace.”

“You misunderstood part of what I was asking,” he says. Your eyes are wide. “Why not let me pay you if you don’t like me? You could be making money instead of offering your time for free.”

That actually makes you laugh. Not a fake polite laugh, one of the real laughs he hears when Soonyoung gets you going. It’s a beautiful sound and it instantly reminds Chan of something. Or someone. He’s not really sure beyond wanting to hear it again.

“You’re kind of funny. I’ll give you that,” you concede.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, eyes still glued to you.

“I don’t know why it doesn’t feel right to take money for working at the aquarium. It just doesn’t,” you shrug. “It’s the first time in my life that I’ve ever really felt like I was where I’m supposed to be and I probably sound crazy saying it. But, I get to the aquarium and my brain gets quiet and it’s like a weight lifts off my chest.”

“You don’t sound crazy,” is all Chan can say for a second.

He’s looking at you differently now and he’s not even concerned if you realize it. It’s like something clicks for him. Like he finally pinpoints what it is about you. Of course he didn’t realize at first. It’s so unbelievably uncommon that he never thought to look. But, there’s no denying it. The way you are around the aquarium, the way you seem to slot in like you’ve been there all along, the way he can read your emotions without trying.

This isn’t your first life. He’s only seen it a handful of times since Olympus fell. The main gods of Olympus, like himself, were able to seek refuge on Earth. Other beings were not so lucky. Many managed one or two reincarnations, but more still just…ceased to exist. It’s something he and some of the others spent a lot of time working through in the beginning. It’s been over two hundred years since Chan came across a reincarnated soul. Yet, here you are. Sitting before him. There’s no mistaking it. Once upon a time, you had been a sea nymph in Olympus. Everything clicks into place when he acknowledges that. He knows the sea nymphs as well as he knows himself. It seems impossible that he wouldn’t recognize all the signs and mannerisms. Then again, he hasn’t come across a reincarnated sea nymph in a very long time. Centuries.

“Are you okay?” you ask after a few moments.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says and shakes his head. This isn’t the place to try to process this. “I just haven’t met anyone that could relate to the way I feel in a long time.”

“You don’t think I’m crazy?” you ask, voice thick with hope. It’s the first time he’s been around you without feeling any negative emotions.

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I should have known that you understood as well. I felt like you were a kindred spirit, but…”

“I’ve been cold?” you offer with a light laugh.

“Cautious, I would say,” he disagrees.

“Maybe we should just start over,” you suggest and that makes Chan smile.

Dinner actually gets much livelier from there on out. Realizing your past allows Chan to entirely change his approach. Without saying anything before you’re ready, he lets his guard down. In doing so, he hopes that some part of you will realize the connection runs deep. It seems to work, even if it’s only a little. Curiosity becomes the most prominent emotion and he capitalizes on it.

Chan is able to suggest some of the dishes that he really likes before you ask if you can just get a few things and share them. You’re asking questions about the aquarium and his life that he tries to answer in a way that sounds honest without inviting follow up questions. Instead, he finds himself wanting to know more about you. Despite your initial reluctance to talk too much about yourself, he gets you to open up to his questions. Each answer you give draws him in further. Gives more of a glimpse into you as a person. Nothing feels too small to learn. He wants to map each of your reactions to things you actually love to things that seem difficult to speak about.

Before either of you realizes it, it’s been over two hours and the restaurant is starting to wind down. Of course, nobody rushes you since Chan knows everyone there by name. But, you still insist it’s probably best to head out. Surprisingly, he’s still only picking up on warmer emotions from you now and maybe that makes him a little bolder.

“There’s this really great ice cream shop just a little walk that way,” he says as you’re exiting the restaurant.

The sideways look you give him leaves him wondering if he’s misread the situation. Then, you’re smiling like you know a secret. “I’m shocked you eat dessert.”

“Are you…are you checking me out?” he splutters. Very little manages to catch him off guard and you have him stumbling over a simple question.

Without answering, you just laugh and start walking in the direction he indicated. When he doesn’t immediately follow, you look over your shoulder and call out to him. “Well? I thought we were getting ice cream.”

“You can’t just say shit like that and expect…” he starts as he hurries to catch up with you.

“Expect what?” you ask, actually poking out at his side. “I would bet my entire life savings that I’m not the first person to check you out.”

“Oh, so you were checking me out,” he says like he’s just won.

“I think that’s only fair with how many times I’ve already caught you checking me out,” you fire back, effectively wiping the smug look of Chan’s face.

It’s been a long time since someone challenged him the way you seem to. Now that you’re talking openly, it feels like he’s known you for years. There’s a comfort that he can’t remember feeling in centuries. It feels like you just implicitly understand a piece of them that he tries to hide in any other situation.

Something whispers from the back of his mind, like a tickle of familiarity. He ignores it, though, in favor of getting to know the incredibly interesting person before him that doesn’t seem to hate him anymore.

After having dinner with Chan, you start to look forward to your shifts for an entirely different reason. Yes, you still get the peace that comes along with being around so many beautiful animals and so much water. You also get to feel the pleasant shift of feelings when Chan is around. Instead of feeling like something gnaws at your consciousness, now you feel a warmth coursing through your body. It’s a little strange, too, because it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

Soonyoung notices the way you and Chan gravitate towards each other now and says nothing despite the knowing smile. You don’t have to ask him to know that he thinks it’s down to him insisting you get dinner together. He doesn’t comment, though, and you’re not going to give him the satisfaction. It’s hard to stop yourself from smiling, even when that makes Soonyoung smile even harder. It’s like he wants all the details of something that you don’t have many details on. At least, not at first.

Hanging out with Chan outside of the aquarium becomes a regular thing, even on the days that you don’t go in. Each of you shows the other your favorite places in the area and you find yourself looking forward to that time more than anything else. Once or twice, you even consider asking Chan if he’s got a more full time position for you at the aquarium. You don’t quite realize you’re not living fully until something like this happens and so much more of life opens up before you. For now, though, you’ll settle for dragging him to a couple of food trucks that you love. He looks entirely out of place in his slacks and dress shirt, though at least he’s rolled up his sleeves.

“So when are you going to come work with us full time,” he asks after sitting down with his food in front of him. He doesn’t ask you to work for him. Even his phrasing is considerate.

“Oh, well, I…” you stutter out.

“You don’t have to, of course,” he assures you. “I’ve just never met anyone that’s better at it than you and you’re not even there that often”

“I have been considering it,” you admit.

“What’s holding you back?” he asks.

You take a bite to give yourself a minute to think about the answer to that. What is holding you back? Admittedly, you’ve never felt more at ease anywhere else. It’s increasingly harder to leave every time your shift is over. You look forward to when the next one will be. Have even added extra shifts when you can fit them in. There’s a part of you that also looks forward to seeing Chan. Although, you know that you could see him whenever you wanted. He always seems to make time for you.

“I don’t know,” you finally say.

“Well, there’s a position waiting for you if you ever want it,” he says with a look on his face that you can’t quite read.

“Why are you so patient with me?” you ask.

“Because we understand each other,” he answers a little too quickly.

“It’s more than that,” you press, feeling, for the first time, like he’s keeping something from you.

Chan sighs and sets his food down. “It is, but this isn’t the place to discuss it.”

That catches you a little off guard. Thinking that there was more to the story and having him admit it so easily were two different things. “You’re not secretly in love with me or something, are you?”

He laughs at the look on your face and it eases a little of the tension. “I don’t think it’s a secret that I love being around you.”

“No, I guess that’s true,” you say with your own laugh.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’ll tell you when we finish eating and we can leave. This kind of thing…well, it’s best to say to you somewhere that’s not so out in the open.”

That announcement surprises you, but it also excites you a little. It’s difficult not to rush through dinner, a fact that Chan picks up on and laughs about. Makes a joke about wanting to get him alone that has color rising on your cheeks. There’s an air of confidence about him despite whatever he’s going to share with you. It makes it a little easier for you to also be calm because it can’t be that bad. If it were bad, he would not seem so confident.

After dinner, and a short back and forth, he takes you back to his apartment, which includes walking by the aquarium. Somehow, you’re still much more nervous than he seems to be. It seems like the most natural thing in the world for him to invite you back to see where he lives. He also seems quick to assure you that it’s not that he’s trying to get you alone. It just needs to be a space that is actually private.

Despite any better judgment you may have, your curiosity is piqued. What is it that he has to say to you that others can’t overhear? Is he about to admit some crazy belief? Or tell you that somehow you were destined to meet? You’re not really sure what sort of comment might come once the two of you are alone, but you’re distracted the second you step into his apartment. It’s amazingly decorated. It feels both cozy and modern at the same time. It also feels so impossibly like him and the ocean combined into one. Maybe that’s saying the same thing. He does give you the impression of the water sometimes.

Being inside of Chan’s personal space also feels surprisingly natural. He disappears off into the kitchen without a second thought and allows you to look around the space. When he returns, it’s with a drink for you as he encourages you to take a seat on his couch. It’s the most comfortable couch you’ve ever sat down on.

“How much do you know about the Gods of Olympus?” he asks without any preamble. Thankfully, you haven’t taken a drink yet. Otherwise, you might have spit it out.

“Like the stuff from mythology?” you ask. It’s so unexpected.

A little voice whispers in the back of your head asking if it’s really that unexpected. The truth is: you’ve always been incredibly fascinated by the myths. There’s a draw to them almost to the point of getting lost in them. But, are you going to admit that you’ve read all the books you could find and watched all the shows or movies? It’s only fantasy, really, when you think about it. You’ve bared a lot of your soul to Chan without meaning to. You’re not sure you want him to laugh at you about this. That same little voice comes back to ask if he would laugh. You’re not so sure.

“Not exactly,” he says with a knowing laugh. “You consume it though, don’t you? I can see it on your face.”

“I - well, lots of people do, don’t they?” you ask noncommittally.

“Not like you, I’d bet,” he answers, unbothered.

“I guess it’s a bit of a guilty pleasure,” you finally admit.

“I think it’s more than that,” Chan presses.

“How can it be? They’re just myths after all,” you say.

“Do you believe that?” he asks and it’s like he’s challenging every one of your long held notions.

“Chan, what did you want to tell me?” you ask.

“Let me tell you about Olympus as I remember it,” he says.

“As you…remember it,” you say slowly. “Chan, what…”

“Just hear me out and let me tell you a story. You can decide afterwards if I’m crazy or if it makes everything fall into place,” he says.

And he does tell you a story. It’s a story about the Gods of Olympus with more information thrown in than you’ve ever read in any story or seen in any movie. It’s at once more fantastical and somehow more believable than anything. There are parts that you recognize. Parts that seem to line up with the stories. And there are parts that feel entirely new. Parts that are deeply emotional and clearly difficult for Chan to say. You delight in the way his face lights up when he talks about the parties or living amongst the sea animals. Completely accept it at face value when he tells you about how his scouts used to be dolphins and how much he misses that. Your heart breaks when he talks about the fights with his siblings and the other Olympians. It all feels like you’re walking along beside him in his stories.

It’s insane to think that any of this could be real. You keep telling yourself as you listen to the stories. But, it’s hard to remember that when you see the look on Chan’s face. There’s fondness when he talks about some of the sillier memories. Like he can’t believe that anyone was ever that ridiculous. There’s genuine pain as he tries to get through the more complicated parts. When it comes time to tell you about how Olympus fell, he chokes up.

You believe him. It’s like something shifts and you can tell that he’s not crazy. He’s not delusional. He’s not on some crazy conspiracy theory. He was Poseidon once upon a time. The feelings of calm that you feel every time you walk into the aquarium wash over you. Like this is the only thing that’s ever made sense. That should be a little disorienting to take in all that information. Instead it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Chan isn’t even done talking when you lean over and press your lips against his. You’re not even sure why you do it or if it’s the right thing to do. When you go to pull away, he puts his hand behind your head and holds you against him. Kisses you breathless like nobody has ever kissed you before. It feels instantly familiar and new all at the same time. Like something you may have done before. But, it also sends sparks flying through your entire body.

“So, should I carry on with telling you how you fit into all of this?” he asks when the two of you break apart from the kiss.

“Me?” you ask, still recovering from the impulsive act of kissing him.

“Yes, you,” he says with a soft smile.

“I’m just a person lucky enough to meet an actual god, what could I…” you start.

“You’re not just a person,” he contradicts with a frown.

“I’m not trying to diminish myself or anything,” you assure him, but he still shakes his head.

“Can I talk?” he asks without any exasperation, though you may deserve it. You just nod. “You’re not just a person. You’re…well, I’m not sure how it works, really. I’ve come across it so infrequently. You have the reincarnated soul of a sea nymph within you. Possibly even one I encountered in another life.”

“How can that be?” you ask with wide eyes. “No, I’m just a normal person, I…”

“If you think about it, it actually makes perfect sense,” he says and carries on.

It sounds so simple when he outlines it for you. He asks you about your connection with the ocean, talks about your instant familiarity with the aquarium and how at peace you feel. Points out that you never feel at peace in a swimming pool, though you’re sure you’ve never said that to him. He talks about your mood shifting when you’re away from the water for too long or the way that everything about the water just seems easier. He even laughs when you admit that once when you were on vacation, a dolphin came right up to you in the ocean and seemed like it wanted your attention. It’s also not the only time something like that happened.

Everything starts to fall into place. It’s like decoding the last little cypher of your life up until that point and showing you memories in a different light. You wonder if you’ll be able to remember anything from being a sea nymph and Chan looks apologetic when he says he doesn’t think it’ll work like that. But, he admits he’s never gotten close enough to another reincarnated soul like this to fully be able to answer it. The excitement drowns out a small voice in the back of your head that’s urging you to move cautiously. Urging you to consider if all of this really sounds right.

You can’t really help the way your bodies seem to be drawn to each other. Many more kisses follow now that the invisible barrier seems broken. When he’s not kissing you, Chan runs his hands along whatever part of you that he can reach.

Eventually, you don’t really want to talk. It seems absentminded, the way that Chan runs his fingers along your arm or squeezes your thigh. It’s driving you insane, though, and you need to know if he’s feeling as bothered as you are.

“How much are you paying attention to this conversation?” you ask.

“Uh…” he says, eyes widening a bit at the question. It’s the first time he’s looked remotely out of control.

“You’re driving me crazy,” you whine and look at his hand gripping your thigh.

That causes his look to change entirely. He’s not out of control anymore. Now he looks a bit smug. “Oh, I’m driving you crazy?”

“Yes,” you admit without a second thought.

“I thought you weren’t even sure if you liked me?” he presses and you huff out a breath.

“I already kissed you, Chan. I think it’s clear I’m not on the fence anymore,” you say.

“Maybe I should show you my bedroom,” he says and stands.

You take his outstretched hand without hesitation. “Finally.”

The two of you get through the doorway into his bedroom and he doesn’t even bother pretending to give you a tour. He only turns around to face you, crowding your space and forcing you back into the doorframe. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you hard. It’s not desperate, it’s perfectly controlled. Nobody has ever kissed you like this before. At least nobody that you can remember. His body presses tight against yours until you’re gasping for breath. Still, he doesn’t let you relax. He’s proving a point. If you thought he was driving you crazy earlier, it’s nothing to this.

You gasp into his mouth when he moves a hand to hitch one of your legs around his hip. Gasp again when he does the same to your other leg and he’s balancing you against the doorframe. It seems impossible that he’s this strong. Maybe that’s part of being a god because he also barely seems to lose his breath as he keeps kissing you. You’re not usually so content to let someone else lead, but it’s so easy with him. It helps that nothing is frantic. Even though he’s driving you crazy, you love that it doesn’t feel rushed. Love that he’s really taking his time with you.

It could be minutes that Chan kisses you or it could be hours and you’re not really sure if you would know the difference. When he sets you down, it feels like an immediate loss. At least until he pulls you towards the bed. Only his eyes give away how badly he wants you. They’re dark with lust that you’re sure your own eyes reflect back at him.

“Is this still okay?” he asks, voice thick with desire. You nod. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Chan. I want this,” you assure him.

Thankfully it’s the only reassurance that he needs. He gently pushes you back onto his bed and immediately gets to work pulling your clothing off you. His eyes drink in every mark on your body and for the first time, you’re not self conscious. You don’t feel like there’s something wrong with you and it has nothing to do with the way he looks at you. Though, it doesn’t hurt that his desire only grows as he peels your clothing off. No, there’s just this inexplicable comfort with him. That voice in the back of your head quiets. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re so in the moment or because this is actually right. You’re not really sure it matters.

When Chan steps back from you, you have the briefest moment of insecurity. It’s gone the next moment when he starts to undo the buttons on his shirt. Actually, your entire mind goes blank. If Chan was beautiful with clothes on, it’s nothing to seeing him removing his shirt. You know that he can change his appearance at will and know that it’s how he’s fit into places this long. So, you know that it might not be entirely him, but you’re not sure you care. Your eyes travel over the scars he still has. Probably remnants of real scars over the years. Somehow the imperfections make him more perfect in your eyes. You’re so caught up in looking at the scars that you miss him removing the rest of his clothing until he’s approaching you.

“Sit back,” he instructs.

You do as he asks without even thinking twice about it. That, at least, makes a voice stir in the back of your mind. Makes you wonder why you’re so content to do as he asks. When he climbs onto the bed and settles between your legs, the voice goes quiet again. He peppers up your leg and down the other with feather light kisses. He doesn’t draw out the build up, though.

Chan runs a finger carefully through your folds and it makes you shudder. He watches your body carefully as he does it again, like he’s trying to map your reactions to everything. Like he wants to know exactly how to make you come undone. It’s such a simple action that works you up. When he licks into your pussy, you think it’s your new favorite feeling. It makes your entire brain go fuzzy. You don’t even realize that you’re arching your back until one of his hands snakes up your stomach to press you back into place.

It’s almost too much, the way he works you over. He’s constantly changing the pace and his movements. His mouth moves up to suck on your clit and his finger moves down to pump into your pussy in lazy motions. The contrast of the movements makes you squirm. When you feel like you’re getting close to an orgasm, he switches it up again and pulls you back from the edge. Over and over again. He keeps switching up his attention every time you feel yourself getting close.

“Chan, oh my fucking god,” you groan. “I’m going to die if you don’t let me come.”

“Well, you got one thing right,” he says, pulling away from your pussy. “I am a god.”

“I hate you,” you say without any heat.

He pulls himself up your body so that he’s hovering over you, entirely too close. You can see the way your juices cover his lips. He eyes you greedily and it’s the hottest thing in the world. It’s even hotter when he lets you pull him down on top of you and kiss him. You moan into his mouth when he ruts his hard length against your thigh.

When he pulls back, you know that you lost whatever game you’re playing. “Doesn’t seem like you hate me.”

“Just please fuck me,” you say, completely breathless.

“Anything you want,” he says.

You gasp when he leans forward again to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. Everything about him seems so in control. Yet, you can feel how much he wants you, too. It’s obvious that you’re not alone in wanting this and that he’s just better at controlling the situation.

Somehow, as he’s kissing you, he manages to spread your legs apart underneath him. It’s embarrassing the way you chase his lips when he pulls back. Or it would be if you didn’t meet his eyes to see all the desire reflecting back at you. He repositions so that he’s between your legs again and lines himself up at your entrance. Chan runs his tip through your folds while he watches for your reaction. It’s all you can do to stop yourself from wiggling to urge him to work faster. Nothing he does is fast, though, and why would this be any different. Slowly, he presses himself into you. Even as you’re begging him for more, he inches into you instead of snapping his hips forward.

Finally, after what seems like minutes (and is probably only seconds), he’s fully buried and it’s the best feeling in the world. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as he adjusts his position. Then, he pulls almost all the way about before snapping back in and your mind goes blank again. Like nothing else exists apart from the two of you, the sound of his skin on yours, and the words shared between you. Praise spills from Chan’s lips as you’re just asking for more and more of him.

This time, he doesn’t bring you right to the edge only to pull you back. He picks up his pace and has you coming so hard that you see stars without warning. You’re so thankful that you don’t immediately realize that he doesn’t pull out of you. He stills himself inside you and peppers gentle kisses all over your face as you work through the orgasm.

He’s definitely not so gentle once the aftershocks work through your body.

In one motion, he has you in his arms and in a completely different position. It’s a level of strength and speed you’re not expecting. You’re sitting up now and about to protest that you don’t have the energy to fuck him like this, when he does the work for you. Even though you’re straddling his lap, he plants his feet and thrusts into you. It’s a slightly slower pace than you’re expecting. Just enough that you feel the tension building, but not enough for it to do anything. At least for you. You’re not sure about Chan.

You can’t help it. All you want to do is kiss him so that he knows how good this feels. Not that he really needs more of an indication. You think he can probably read your body pretty well. The first time with someone new is usually awkward. This has been anything but. He knows exactly what you need and just how far he can push you before it’s too much.

And that really does seem true. You’re just about to go into overstimulated territory when he changes the position again. You get the briefest of breaks for him to settle behind you. It could be as innocent as cuddling until he hikes your leg up and presses his length into you without warning.

“Chan, jesus fuck,” you cry out.

“You’re being so good for me, baby,” he coos into your ear. “Can you be good for just a little longer?”

“Yes,” you pant.

“Even if I fuck you hard?” he asks, experimentally picking up his pace.

“Yes, please, just…fuck,” you yell out as he snaps into you harder.

“So perfect,” he murmurs into your skin.

His thrusts immediately get faster and you can tell he’s ready to stop dragging it out. He’s still doing more than his share of the work and it’s insane to realize how much stamina he seems to have. The new angle allows him to hit you deeper than before. You’re already so worked up that it’s not long before he’s pushing you into your second orgasm. This time, he follows right behind you, erratically thrusting as his breath stutters by your ear.

He collapses behind you, but still holds you close against his chest. Your breathing matches his without even thinking about it. Neither one of you really needs to say anything to know that it was something completely unexpected. You can’t remember ever having better sex than with him. Leave it to Chan to ruin you for anyone else that could possibly try to come after him.

Eventually, Chan pulls himself out and off the bed. He holds out his hand to help you into the bathroom with him. You make a joke about how you don’t have another round in you and his smile is instant. His features go soft when he says he just wants to help you clean up.

(That doesn’t hold true for the next morning since he insists you should sleep over. You may be incredibly sore afterwards. You also know that you don’t care. In that moment, you think you would let Chan fuck you senseless for the rest of your life without complaining. Who cares if you’re a little sore? You’ve never felt so connected to someone in your entire life. And he just happens to be one of the gods of Olympus.)

Things seem to fall into place quickly for you and Chan after he shares his past with you. It’s like the last two puzzle pieces in an absurdly complicated puzzle. One of those ones where the pieces aren’t in the standard square shapes. Yet, now that you’re perfectly slotted together, it’s like you’ve been that way your whole lives. The two of you are together more often than you’re not. Late nights exploring or staying up until the early hours of the morning talking. Lazy mornings wrapped up in the covers of the bed (where you actually get Chan to spend more time away from the aquarium than he ever has before). Chan doesn’t even really have time to overthink anything.

His biggest win comes when you finally admit that you’re ready to leave your boring job and come to work at the aquarium full time. That only takes a few weeks after he tells you that you were a sea nymph in a former life. He’s still even a little at the complete lack of pushback on it. You accept it just as easily as you accept that he was Poseidon once upon a time. And you’re not accepting it in the way someone does to pacify a crazy person. That much is clear with how much more time you spend anywhere that Chan is. Somehow, the rest of Chan’s staff doesn’t even seem to comment on how quickly you become inseparable. Soonyoung seems to be smiling even more than usual (a feat Chan didn’t think possible). But, otherwise everyone just accepts the new normal. Everyone seems thrilled to have you around more permanently and that makes Chan’s heart constrict.

He doesn’t have time to think about any of it. Until he does, very suddenly, think about all the feelings you bring up in him.

Chan is careful with relationships. He’s friendly with his staff, but they’re not really friends (despite Soonyoung’s best efforts). He doesn’t get to know anyone at any of the places he shops or have any hobbies where he interacts with people. It can get lonely if Chan thinks too closely about it, but what is the alternative? People’s lives are finite, measurable. Chan’s is not. At least, it hasn’t been yet. There are no signs he’s slowing down over the many centuries he’s been through. Then there’s you. You who are very much human. Though, it’s been a long time since he’s come across another reincarnated Olympian. There isn’t a rule book for how those lives go and there’s never been one that Chan stuck by long enough to find out.

The real question, though, is whether he’s willing to stick around this time to see how it works. Is he willing to risk everything only to figure out that you’re merely a mortal? That you’re going to fall victim, if you’re lucky, to the curse all humans succumb to? That’s if you’re lucky enough to live to old age and something else doesn’t happen before then. Human life is so fragile. It’s a lot to process. More so since he’s not really talking to you about how he’s feeling.

You notice. Of course you notice. Chan starts to get a little more distant as weeks turn into months. He’s still physically present with you and he still tries to act like everything is fine. But, he can feel it in the shift of your moods. Doubt creeps in and he gets snippets of your feelings or even your thoughts. It isn’t fair and he knows that it’s not. He knows he has to talk to you instead of just acting like everything is normal.

“Are you ready to talk to me yet?” you ask one evening when you’re sitting on his couch with your feet in his lap.

He stops scrolling through something on his phone and looks over at you. Somehow, you always seem to know when it’s best to apply just a little pressure. Knows his moods and senses when he’s ready to talk about something. There’s no use in acting like he doesn’t know what you mean.

“It’s nothing you’ve done,” he starts and you smile.

“Oh, I know that,” you assure him. That makes him laugh. It’s you all over.

“It’s just…I don’t usually let myself get close to anyone,” he starts and your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?” you say with an attempt at a joke, though it doesn’t quite land.

“I think we both know you’re special,” he says quickly to reassure you. “It’s just…well, there’s a reason for that. Human life is so fleeting.”

“Ah, yes,” you say with a wry smile, “because you’re ancient.”

“Enough,” he chastises without any real heat.

“Sorry,” you say and throw up your arms.

“I am kind of ancient, though. Not in this body since I’m always changing forms, but in mind. I’ve been around a long time and you…” he says and trails off.

“You’re so sure I have an expiration date?” you ask.

“You’re human,” he says simply.

“And also have the soul of a reincarnated sea nymph,” you remind him. As if he could ever forget.

“I know,” he concedes. “But I don’t know what that means for your…”

“Life expectancy?” you offer. There’s something almost detached and also calming about the way you say it. “You can’t say for sure that I won’t live beyond a normal human life, either.”

“No, I can’t,” he says. “I’ve never wanted to stick around another reincarnated soul the way I can’t seem to let you out of my sight.”

“Doesn’t that mean it’s worth at least considering?” you ask.

There’s nothing desperate or emotional about the way you approach the conversation. It’s all based in fact and the information in front of you. As much as you and Chan like to go out on dates, you also like to sit with him while he tries to do research. Both of you want to understand what your soul means for the rest of your body. You want to understand why sometimes he can feel your mood or even hear some of your louder thoughts. It’s fun when you can control it and send something disruptive towards Chan. Fun for you, at least. He doesn’t always appreciate the image of what you want to do to him while he’s trying to do something at work.

So, you go through all the knowns with him again. Go over everything that you’ve learned. Go through the questions you have unanswered and where there might be more information. You talk things through logically in a way that feels familiar to him. Chan finds himself getting lost in his amazement at your brain and the way you process information. It’s also incredible to him to watch you work through a problem. It lulls him into a place that he hasn’t been in since…

And that’s when it clicks. That’s when he realizes. You’re not just a reincarnated sea nymph. No, it’s much deeper than that. He knows your soul more intimately than he knows his own. He can’t believe that he didn’t see it right away. Can’t believe he’s had you in his bed for months now without realizing.

“You’re not listening anymore,” you comment. You don’t seem upset, only curious. It’s like you want to know where his mind goes.

“No, I’m sorry,” he says and you wave it off. “It’s just, well, I figured out who you used to be.”

“Uh,” you say, clearly missing a piece. “Yeah? A reincarnated sea nymph? We’ve already covered this.”

“No,” he disagrees. That makes you raise your eyebrows. “Well, you are, but you’re also more than that. Your soul, it’s…”

“What is it, Chan?” you ask, full attention focusing on him.

“I should have known. You feel so familiar, like I’ve known you for years,” he says and it’s like he’s talking to himself. “It’s not just some ordinary sea nymph’s soul…”

“Yes, because sea nymphs are so ordinary,” you say with a scoff. “Like people every day are just coming across sea n-”

“It’s Amphitrite’s soul,” he finishes and that stops you mid sentence. Your eyes lock onto his, wide and wondering.

“Amphitrite? As in Goddess of the sea, most prominent of the sea nymphs and wife of…” she says and can’t seem to finish the sentence.

“Poseidon. The one true love of my life, yes,” he says.

If you think anything of him referring to Amphitrite as the one true love of his life, you don’t say anything. You go into a contemplative silence. Like if you think hard enough, you may be able to remember her or the relationship with Poseidon. Who knows? Maybe you can. Try as he might, Chan can’t seem to think of a single instance where something like this has happened before. Doesn’t remember someone like Hera returning in this way. He also can’t think of any reason why you would return now, after all this time. Unless this is just the first time he’s found you. There are far more questions than answers.

“This…changes things,” you say.

“Does it?” he asks.

“Doesn’t it?” you immediately return.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s like it suddenly makes sense in a way I wasn’t expecting. But, it also feels…more complicated.”

“Complicated, how? I mean, you were in love with Amphitrite and I assume she, or I, was also in love with you,” you say. “Doesn’t that explain this pull we have to each other?”

“Our relationship was incredibly complicated,” he says softly. “I have…many regrets about how I handled things when it came to her. And I also can’t wrap my brain around her reappearing after so many years or what that means for you.”

“Why don’t we just start at the beginning? Tell me about your relationship,” you prompt.

“There are parts that were ugly,” he says without meeting your eye.

The couch shifts and dips as you get closer to him. You lift his chin up gently so he’s looking at you. “The fact that you can admit parts were ugly or that you have regrets shows you’ve learned. So, tell me the whole story and then we’ll go from there.”

So, he starts talking.

It starts at the beginning. He was at a celebration when he saw Amphitrite dancing among the other Nereids, the daughters of Nereus, who was also known as the Old Man of the Sea. There had been other consorts before her, but he was instantly smitten. She symbolized everything beautiful and kind about the sea. Everything that he could ever want. So, he approached her father before ever approaching her and asked for her hand. Her father was, understandably, thrilled. It seemed like there was no better match than to allow Poseidon himself to marry one of his daughters. In hindsight, that was absolutely the wrong way to go about it. She should have been given a say in her own life rather than treated like property by her father and the man who claimed to love her.

Chan talks about what he can remember of their courtship as honestly as he can. From his perspective, everything went wonderfully. After all, why shouldn’t she have been thrilled that he wanted to marry her. Once he had nothing but time to think back on what he had done, he realized that she had not seemed all that interested. It was more like she was going through the motions because she had to. He tried to include her in everything that he could so she would see what her life could be like. Maybe that had been the wrong choice. But, she was a natural when it came to hosting or offering opinions in meetings. At the time, it made him happy to see how well she settled in. Now, it just felt like she had been forced into a life she never wanted.

As the wedding itself got closer, she fled to the far reaches of the ocean. It was a dolphin scout of his that finally managed to find her. He never knew what his scout said to her that made her return. He only knew what he told the scout. They never spoke about it once she came back. She simply returned, assured him she had only been nervous about how important he was, and said she wanted to get married still. So, he also acted like nothing happened, which he knows was as wrong as he could have been. He does think that he tried to be a better partner to her after that, though he’s not sure he succeeded. When he had to make decisions between what might be best for her and what might be best for his position, he chose himself. He also chose the sea over her when he had to make those choices. It was never fair to her.

Somehow, through all of that, he did really grow to love her. He valued her beyond what he showed. He appreciated her for her unfailing kindness and her insistence when she knew she was right. He appreciated her wit and her mind. He appreciated the way that she was never afraid to tell him what she thought or to let him know when he was making the wrong decision. He appreciated that she didn’t just bend over backwards for him or fawn over him. He only realized after she was gone that he never appreciated her the way that she deserved to be appreciated. Once he lost her, he realized that he should have done anything in the world to protect her. He realized he should have given her the entire sea and made her the ruler because she was far smarter than he had realized.

You only listen intently without interrupting. In the few moments where Chan looks at you, he struggles to figure out what you’re thinking. Not that you won’t tell him. He knows you will. It’s just very daunting to speak that long without you interjecting. When he stops speaking, you’re still quiet for a moment.

“I think…Chan, I think I’m starting to remember,” you say with wide eyes.

And that’s the last thing he expects to hear. He figures you may tell him that he’s horrible for putting someone he claims to have loved through that. Or you could say that it sounds far-fetched to think she’s not just a sea nymph, but a specific nymph that he was deeply in love with. He doesn’t expect for you to look at him in wonder and say you’re remembering. That’s another unknown in this entire mess of a situation.

Before he can consider if this is something that should even be possible, your lips crash into his. There are so many emotions behind that kiss that he can’t begin to process. There’s longing and a long-forgotten love. There’s excitement about returned memories. There’s the sparks that always fly between you two. The mix of the established feelings with ones Chan never expected to feel again is startling. So, he just lets his mind wander. He lets the feeling of kissing you consume him so thoroughly that it pushes any other conversation out the window. All that exists in that moment is the two of you, however you want to define that.

The excitement of finding out a long forgotten identity wears off far quicker than you expect it to. Not that you have any frame of reference for this sort of thing. But, surely it should last longer than this. Longer than it takes for you to fall into bed with Chan again. Longer than it takes for him to worship your body as he’s done before and for him to bring you to an orgasm so good it has you screaming. Somehow, in the post-sex haze, he doesn’t realize that you’re quieter than usual. Perhaps that’s a blessing. He kisses you so softly, so sweet and tells you that he’s going to do some research. That’s fine, you insist, because you want to get back home to really get a good night’s sleep. It seems unspoken that he wants to let you process.

But…well, you’re not really sure if you’re still okay with the information. It’s like having sex this time triggered a new flood of memories. Some come across as clearly as if it was something you directly experienced. Others come through more as feelings than anything else. And it’s a lot. Overwhelming in a way that nothing else has been. It’s how you expected to react to finding out that all those myths you were so drawn to were actually real. That feels easy to accept, especially now. Remembering is something else entirely. Because remembering Amphitrite’s experiences as your own just feels complicated.

Maybe it’s wrong to think of her as a separate person if her soul lives within you. That part isn’t hard to accept, not when you can feel it. The hard part is accepting the feelings about Chan. The memory pushes back on you calling him that. Accepting is also the wrong word. The hard part is reconciling the person you’ve gotten to know with the memories that come flooding back.

Then, almost as if on cue, that whispering voice returns. It reminds you of how you felt when you first met Chan. Of the distaste you had without being able to place it. Which is true, isn’t it? You didn’t like him without any reason beyond just a feeling. The voice presses memories onto you. Things you actually experienced with Chan mixed in with scenes between Poseidon and Amphitrite. The more you see, the more it feels like your own memories. Like something that you took part in directly.

It’s putting it mildly to say that things are complicated. There is clear affection there for the person that Amphitrite got to know. Although it’s clear she did not love Poseidon from the beginning, she grew into much stronger feelings. Yet, she can’t separate those fully. She can’t say for sure that the feelings would develop on their own. Did she just love him? Or was it because she, at times, had little contact with anyone outside their palace? Though, that was largely her own choice as things went on. There were too many things to do at home to leave. And there was too much unrest.

Yes, it feels complicated. Now your own memories or the past few months mingle with decades of memories from someone else. You can’t decide if you want to push your own memories aside to make room for the returning ones or keep them side by side. Your new memories don’t really seem to fit, though. Which isn’t surprising. The person you know isn’t the same one that Amphitrite knew. He’s grown in ways that she can scarcely understand or imagine. He’s thoughtful and considerate and much more mature. That doesn’t sit perfectly with the memories. Although, you can tell that there’s a part of the lingering voice that appreciates the growth. Maybe even feels a little responsible for it. Wants to believe that she’s part of the reason he made the changes.

By the time you make it back to your apartment, your head feels like it’s going to split open. You’re no closer to any answers about what you want to do. No closer to reconciling incredibly complex feelings. No closer to the next step. That’s fine, though. All you can really do now is let yourself drift off to sleep and revisit

The morning, unfortunately, doesn’t bring answers. You’re not sure how to approach Chan other than to ask for time to process your feelings. That seems like as good a place to start as any because it’s a lot to take in. He must know that. Surely he’ll understand. Even though you seemingly accepted the news yesterday, it’s a new day today. And your brain is fighting to catch up.

You’re trying to figure out how to approach the conversation with Chan when you make your way through the apartment. A piece of paper by your front door catches your eye and you approach it. You pick up the envelope and recognize the writing on the front of it as Chan’s. There’s something so impossibly him about the gesture. Of course he would write a letter instead of…wait. A moment too late, your brain catches up. Why would Chan be writing you a letter? What changed?

Opening the letter feels close to the last thing you want to do. But, you know that you need to just open it to see what’s going on. See if anything changes.

A lot can change overnight, it seems. Chan fills the letter with apologies for things you can’t even begin to understand. He’s apologizing to you and also to Amphitrite. It seems he got to the conclusion much faster than you, which shouldn’t be surprising. He’s had centuries, apparently, to learn and to spot things others may never notice. That’s especially clear as you read through his letter, now.

Getting past the general apologies, you find more specific apologies. He’s incredibly sorry, but he’s going to be leaving for a while. He knows that it’s not fair to you, but it’s something that he’s got to do. At least he acknowledges that it should ultimately be your decision on how to proceed with the relationship. He can’t let you do that without more answers to his questions. He needs to know how it’s possible for Amphitrite’s soul to have found its way into your body. He needs to understand what that means for your own mortality. It’s selfish, he admits, so incredibly selfish, but he can’t move forward with you, even if that’s what you want, without knowing more. He can’t watch as you age and he doesn’t. Can’t grow to love you more and more only to know you have an expiration date. It’s cold, he knows, to say it that way. It’s also the way he’s going to approach it. The whole letter is filled with apologies and acknowledgements followed by buts.

Chan goes on to say that he’s going looking for his brother, Zeus. He’s the only one that might be able to help them understand what’s happening. The problem is that he hasn’t seen his brother in centuries and doesn’t entirely know how to find him, or if he’s even still surviving. He just has to trust that he’s out there somewhere, going through the same motions as Chan and chugging forward in the only way either of them know how. Somehow this tidbit is a lot to process. Accepting the existence of Poseidon was easy. Maybe that’s because of your own past. Accepting Zeus is something else entirely. Some of that stems from your own disbelief. Most seems to come from Amphitrite’s complicated feelings about her brother-in-law.

Just as you’re about to put the letter down in frustration, you see the postscript. Chan asks you to help his staff look after the aquarium until he returns. He knows that it’s not fair to ask. He knows you may even say no. Your heart tightens at the thought of the animals without Chan. Now that you know who he is, you know that they’ll miss him when he’s not around. You don’t have powers the way he does, though. And it’s his choice to just leave on a whim to chase answers for a relationship that may not even be there when he returns.

Well, two can play this game, you think. It may not be a fully rational thought. It may not even be fair. Before you can overthink it, you send a text to Soonyoung saying that you’ll be out of town for the next few weeks, at least. You just tell him that you have some things to work through and leave it at that. In the meantime, you throw things haphazardly into a suitcase and you’re out the door before even getting a response.

Your letter from Chan stays sitting on your table as you rush out of the apartment without a second thought. All you know is that you’re going to let Amphitrite guide you on a journey of your own to find missing memories before you make any more decisions.

It seems like both of you have a lot to figure out before you see each other next.

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gurugirl · 1 year ago

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Just For Tonight | Ch. 1

Series Summary: Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's only going to be just for tonight. Or is it?

Chapter Summary: Y/n can't believe her luck when the famous Harry Styles invites her and her friend backstage after his concert is over.

Warning: 18+ only, smut

Word Count: 8646

Commissioned by anon (thank you!! xoxo)

Just For Tonight Masterlist

Almost 20,000 screaming fans, flashing and pulsing lights, percussion, string, vocals, bass, and ego with sex appeal dancing on the stage amongst it all. The entire floor of the venue, stage, walls, and all were vibrating and trembling along with the speakers that thundered with live music, and in the middle of it all the crowd danced and stomped along with the man of the hour. Harry Styles.

For Harry, tonight was a great night. When he performed it was usually pretty fucking great. But tonight, especially, everything was perfect. It was just one of those days that’s a good day for no real reason. The stars aligned, the moon’s gravitational pull balanced everything out, Mars was not in retrograde, and so on and so forth. Who knew what had made it such a lovely day? It just was and Harry was not one to question things like nature and science and destiny. He allowed it to bring him wherever it needed to take him. He was just a passenger on the ride of life.

And everyone in the building felt the same vibes. He just knew it. It had been a perfectly phenomenal day for everyone that he laid eyes on. How could it not? Every time he spotted someone in the crowd and smiled they screamed and jumped excitedly because they were also having a fucking fantastic day. So, okay, sure it might have had something to do with the fact that they were at a Harry Styles concert, and making eye contact with the one and only himself was bound to boost moods.

It was a thrill to wave or smile or call someone out and see their reaction. He loved the attention. Loved watching people swoon and cry out for him. He loved being loved and adored. And tonight, he was very much being adored.

When the song came to an end and the lights went down Harry picked up his Gibson guitar and stepped back up to the mic, signaling the song change. The light shined down over him as he stood gorgeously confident in his black custom Gucci suit sans shirt. His pecs and tattoos bared to the fans, a well-built body proudly on display. He had no reason to not show off. He knew he looked amazing. Not to mention it was also practical because his outfit and the hot lights were boiling.

He loved using old songs from his One Direction days and Stockholm Syndrome always got the crowd to go absolutely nuts. He stood bold and self-assured in front of the microphone as he strummed the guitar and started the song off. Looking at the fans in the center pit they went wild as his eyes roved the crowd, dimples carving into his cheeks at the reaction he got. He’d never get over it.

He began to sing and the sudden greatness of the situation was overwhelming. He knew the universe was giving him something very special at that instant as he strummed and leaned into the mic, belting the opening lines. He wanted to keep his awareness about him and not miss a moment. He was in his element.

And the reason he felt the atmosphere change, he was sure of it the second he laid eyes on her, was standing just right of center stage in the pit. An angel with long hair surrounded by a halo of glitter and the loveliest smile he’d seen in a long time. She wore a bodysuit with a flower pattern that hugged her curves with sparkles all over her skin and her shoulders, gleaming in her hair. Glossy pink and red sunglasses shaped like hearts on her face.

He couldn’t help but look at her as he sang and when he stepped away from the mic to let the fans scream the words he narrowed his eyes at the angel in front of the stage and gave her a quick wave, releasing one hand from his guitar to do so. Watching her pretty pink lips drop open wide when she understood he was waving at her she bounced a little and waved back. Harry’s eyes dragged down her frame again and he realized her tits were bouncing with her. He couldn’t help but notice it. They were supple and she was gorgeous. It was hard not to take her all in as she was.

She hadn’t realized it, until that instant, that he’d been looking at her. She figured that was impossible. There were so many other people next to her but the electricity that buzzed through her veins in that moment had her feeling like the only one in the audience. He continued looking at her through the song, his eyes finding hers as he sang and strummed. His smile deepened each time their gazes met and she felt like she was in a dream. Harry Styles was looking at her and grinning coyly each time his eyes landed on hers.

Y/n was an outspoken person. Someone who didn’t usually hold back with her thoughts and opinions. And even though having Harry looking at her and grinning was making the blood rush to her cheeks and her limbs tremble she knew she needed to call on her boldness to keep his attention. She had an idea before she’d even gotten to the concert that felt like something that would just stay an idea, would remain a little daydream fantasy. But now? She figured why not? She’d seen Harry prancing around at past concerts wearing sunglasses and hats the fans would toss up to him.

But she didn’t want to throw anything up on the stage at him for fear of hurting him or him not seeing it. She wanted to hand him the sunglasses. Maybe they’d even brush fingers. But with the way the stage was set up, she knew that was impossible. Security flanked the fronts and sides and she’d never be able to reach. Instead, she did the next best thing.

The next time Harry spotted her, which was only moments after she decided to enact her plan, she pulled her sunglasses off and pointed at him as she held them up. She was against the barricade near security and Harry’s eyes squinted as he looked at her hand and placed the mic onto the stand before kneeling down next to the man standing in front of the stage. He kept his eyes on the sparkly angel as he pointed at her and spoke to the man who nodded.

The transaction happened in a flash. The man smiled at her as she handed him the heart-shaped sunglasses and then suddenly Harry had them in hand and placed them on his face as he got right back to singing.

The crowd was raucous. Harry wearing cutesy, shiny heart sunglasses got everyone’s attention but Y/n was in awe that he was wearing her cheap dollar store find on his handsome face.

And when the song was over he pulled the sunglasses off and mouthed, “Can I keep these?”

Y/n nodded exaggeratedly and smiled as she bounced a little. It was the best night of her life; she was sure of it. The entire day had been amazing. From the moment she woke up to right then as she had Harry’s grin aimed at her it had been perfection. Even her outfit and hair were perfect. She knew it. It was just one of those days and she felt like it was all meant to be.

She danced and swayed to the songs, sang along with the crowd, and Harry kept giving her glances and cheeky smirks. He was definitely flirting with her.

“I can’t believe he’s keeping your sunglasses! What if he wears them after tonight and he’s photographed with them?” Y/n’s co-worker, Ady, was with her. She and Ady were loose friends. They got along well enough and both liked Harry Styles. So when Y/n scored two tickets and her best friend declined to go to the concert with her she asked Ady. She figured Ady would be willing given the colorful TPWK screensaver she had on her work computer.

Harry began to interact with the signs in the crowd. Reading them aloud as he casually paced and laughed and made the fans laugh with him.

But as he walked toward the part of the stage where Y/n and Ady were standing Harry pointed directly at Y/n, “What’s your name?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to keep calm and Ady squealed next to her, “Her name is Y/n!”

Y/n turned to look at Ady and they laughed together but Harry continued, “Her name is what again?” He cupped his ear and leaned in to hear better.

This time Y/n was quick to react, “Y/n!!” She shouted as loudly and clearly as possible.

Harry stood up straight and laughed, “Y/n. Lovely. And your friend’s name?”

Ady shouted her name and Harry nodded, “Is it just the two of you?”

Y/n and Ady nodded with wide grins and Harry sauntered around in the spot as he motioned with his arms, “Y/n, here, gave me a pair of sunglasses and is allowing me to keep them,” he spoke to the fans and then looked back toward Y/n. “And I just wanted to say, thank you, Y/n. That was so thoughtful of you to give them to me.”

She placed her hand over her heart as she shouted, “You’re welcome!” And Harry placed his hand over his heart and winked.

An absolute dream. The whole night had been. The attention she was getting from Harry was something she’d never forget. She was positive that he found her attractive based on the way he kept looking toward her and grinning. It was one of those things that happen in life that make you spark and give you a giddiness that you’ll wake in the middle of the night thinking of or suddenly become overwhelmed with while you’re loading the dishwasher. Something that you take with you and sew into your bones and inwardly smile and gush over. Something that can’t ever be taken away. A small moment in time that’s yours to take with you forever.

Harry did his usual end-of-concert routine, including the whale before jogging off stage. The lights brightened slowly and the sounds of chatter and concertgoers laughing and singing filled the venue.

Y/n wasn’t ready to leave the magic of the concert but all good things must come to an end. As she and Ady were about to file out behind the other pit fans the security guard who handed her sunglasses off to Harry approached her, “You’re both invited backstage. Harry’s invitation.”

There was no way she’d ever get over that night.

The area was set up in two sections. A handful of fans and other people were all in one spot, a large room with foldout chairs and tables along the wall, and then there was another room opposite the large one, where Y/n and Ady were asked to stay. The room was small with a couch and coffee table, a few armchairs, a TV on the wall, and a buffet with pitchers of water and juices lined up with glasses and napkins at the end.

Y/n sat in one of the armchairs and Ady poured herself a glass of green juice, “Sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’ll get something in a minute. Just need a second to process everything. That was so amazing, wasn’t it?”

The pair talked about the concert as a man walked into the room and filled a glass with water for himself. He greeted Ady and then Y/n, “Hi. I’m Tommy.”

He sat down and made small talk for a bit, “So, this is the special guest room. Did you get a personal invite from Harry?” His grin was cheeky. Y/n didn’t know what any of that meant.

“Yeah, he invited us backstage after the concert was over. I gave him my sunglasses.”

Tommy nodded and raised his brows, “Ahh… I see. Well, he’ll be done out there soon.”

Soon was thirty minutes later. Tommy turned the TV on and handed the remote to Ady before he left the room. They got to meet Sarah and Pauli before they noticed some of the fans leaving and the other room slowly growing empty.

And when Harry finally walked into the room it was as if time stood still. That cliché was happening in real time. He wore a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt with tennis shoes, and a big smile as he looked at Y/n before greeting Ady with a handshake and a hug.

Y/n stood abruptly as Harry greeted her in the same way.

He sat on the couch and urged Y/n to sit next to him as Ady took the armchair closest and they all talked briefly about the concert. He asked more questions about how they knew one another and if they were from the area, what they did for a living…

He was perfectly polite and attentive. The man was gorgeous up close and Y/n tried not to let her imagination get away from her as he spoke and she watched his features and looked down over his tattooed arm and muscular thighs under his jeans.

Harry laughed at something Ady said and then ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Y/n, “I’m really glad you came. You have good taste in sunglasses. And music,” he chuckled at his joke and Y/n laughed with him.

“But um… would you be willing to stay back with me a bit? If you want?” He looked directly at Y/n as he asked but she didn't assume the question was only aimed at herself and of course, she was willing to stay back with him so she nodded and looked at Ady to make sure she was good with it too.

Just as Ady was about to say something Harry interrupted, “I’m really sorry. I can only have one person stay back per the rules, and since you,” he looked over at Y/n, “were so kind to allow me to keep your sunglasses, thought it would only be fair.”

The sudden realization changed the atmosphere in the room. He was asking Y/n to stay back. Only her. Not Ady.

“Oh, sure. Yeah of course. That’s fine,” Ady smiled and looked at her friend. “Y/n you stay. I’ll go back to the hotel and see you later then?”

It was awkward for sure. Y/n felt a little guilty for being so excited at the idea of being able to hang out with Harry one-on-one but at the same time, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Even if Ady had said she would rather Y/n go with her she would have stayed with Harry. She was not going to miss whatever it was he had planned.

She was led into another room. One with a door that Harry closed behind himself. He watched as she looked around. It was what looked like a dressing room.

“Would you like a drink? Or something to eat?” Harry asked as he walked up behind Y/n and honed in on what she was looking at. The rack of outfits. He always had five to choose from for each show. Usually, there was one that was suggested but Harry liked making the final decision. Which also meant each outfit would be tailored the same day as a show regardless if he wore them or not. Now, the tailoring wasn’t much. It wasn’t as if Harry’s weight and size fluctuated all that much from show to show. But lately, he was bulking up a bit. His trainer had him working out for hours each day. Harry’s body was in the best shape it’d ever been in. So some seams were let out and there were a few little tucks and folds and bits that needed to be sewn last minute typically.

“What do you have to drink?”

Harry turned and opened up the mini fridge as he squatted down, “Let’s see. Beer, wine, tequila, whisky. I can get you anything you want, though.”

Of course he could.

“Tequila on the rocks? Is that okay?” She was feeling a bit uncertain. She didn’t know what to expect or what was allowed. She wasn’t sure what was going on in general. Her nerves were starting to erupt a bit at the idea that he might have her in his dressing room alone for something more than just a chat.

“Sure. I’ll have one with you.”

They sat next to one another on the couch and made more small talk. She was surprised that he stayed a couple of feet from her the whole time as he sipped his glass and asked her about her job, her family, a dog she mentioned.

When she’d finished her tequila she tapped at the glass with her fingernails and looked at Harry curiously, “So, um… should I be going now? What’s the plan?”

Harry laughed and gulped down the last of his tequila before clearing his throat nervously, “If you want to go you can but um…” he licked his lips and sat the glass down on the table next to his side and planted his green gaze on her pretty eyes, “I’m going to head to my suite in a bit. It’s really nice and big. Would you want to go back there with me?”

Y/n grinned and squinted her eyes at him, “What for? Are you planning on making a move on me or something?”

Harry sputtered out a laugh and his adorable dimples dug into his face. He hadn’t expected her to say it right then but he could tell she was a bold person. Knew from the start, when she got his attention with her sunglasses that she wasn’t shy and wouldn’t need lots of guidance. Which he preferred. Timid women were nice and all but Harry didn’t like to be the one to make the first move in most cases. He felt that wasn’t fair. He was famous and handsome and it was unlikely a girl would turn him down so he liked it when he was pursued a little. He liked it when the other person made the suggestions and led the way a bit. Felt more authentic that way.

“Do you want me to make a move?”

Y/n sighed and grinned back at him, “You’re not answering my question,” she turned to face him, the glitter on her arms rubbing off onto the couch. “Is that what this is? Because so far you’ve just made a bunch of small talk and you’ve listened to me ramble on about my boring job.”

Harry nodded. Fair enough.

“Okay. Yes. I wanted to make a move. But I feel like doing that in my suite gives us more privacy rather than here. It’s up to you, though.”

“There it is. So this was just a way for you to get me to come back to your room with you.” She smiled as she teased.

Harry laughed a breath out of his nose and nodded, “Yes, Y/n. I hoped you’d come back to my room with me. Will you?”

“Can I kiss you first and then make that decision? I need to know what I’m getting myself into before you get me all alone in your suite.”

Harry gulped and felt his chest get warm. Yes, she was perfectly bold. Exactly what he hoped.

He nodded, “Okay.” He scooted himself toward her body and she moved her hands up to his shoulders and laughed quietly at the absurdity.

Harry smiled and just before he could laugh with her he felt her soft, glossy lips on his and he melted. Her lips were warm and tasted like strawberries from the lip gloss she was wearing and her body was suddenly pressed into his.

When she licked over his lips Harry groaned as he opened his mouth to let his tongue slide out against hers. It all happened so fast and his head was spinning.

She determined she liked, no loved, the way he kissed. A little messy and wet. Plenty of tongue and small moans fell from his lungs. His lips were puffy and soft and she’d never imagined in her life that she’d get to feel his lips on hers but here they were licking and sucking and making out on a couch in his dressing room after his concert.

When she parted they both gasped and their expressions mirrored each other. Blown-out pupils, drooped lids, pink, wet lips, and harsh breaths inhaled into their chests.

“Yes. I’ll go with you to your room.”

They couldn’t go together. Out of necessity. She was taken in a separate car to his hotel and then ushered to the penthouse suite he was staying in.

And she understood the hullabaloo. She knew it was necessary. Not only had she been a fan of his since his One Direction days, and had seen how his fans were crazy, but she also got to see it with her own eyes all the young girls outside of the hotel waiting for him to appear.

His suite was just as posh as she thought it would be. Tall windows overlooked the city lights. The room she entered had tall ceilings, a piano along the wall, flowers on an elegant table, wainscoting wrapped the walls from edge to edge, large wooden doors with intricate carvings, a huge leather couch, and two wool woven armchairs on either side with a low-profile wooden coffee table in the center that looked antique. A huge flatscreen TV across from the couch, a chandelier above, expensive artwork adorned the walls, and a fireplace on the other side with another sitting area and plush pillows piled over the chairs.

Not wanting to wait another second to feel her lips on his, Harry pulled her into his arms and they continued right where they’d left off.

Wet lips and tongues gliding together slowly until Y/n pulled his elbow, “Let’s sit down.”

Harry followed her to the loveseat that faced the fireplace and gestured for him to sit as if it were her room. He nodded and sat, keeping his legs spread apart as he watched the pretty girl climb over him and straddle his lap.

The moment she sat down she felt him under her. He was rock-hard.

“You poor thing. Do you need help, Harry?” She looked at him innocently as he parted his pink lips and nodded.

“Yeah? What do you need then?” She dipped in to kiss him again as she rocked herself over him and he groaned at her moxy. She was quite confident. Harry was already in love.

“Anything. Whatever you want.”

She kissed down over his jaw slowly and heard his chest vibrate as she got lower. What did she want? Well, she wanted to look at him. Wanted to perceive his body up close without any clothes. Wanted to touch his skin and see his tattoos and kiss his pecs and his abs. She wanted to see him.

“Let’s get your clothes off. I want to see you, Harry.”

He was not shy about his body. He’d never been. He had absolutely no problem whatsoever hanging out naked in front of friends or wearing only briefs in front of his family. Though some would urge him to put clothes on, Harry didn’t care if anyone saw his schlong or his balls (well maybe he didn’t want his mom and his sister to see all that).

So when he began to take his clothes off and kept his eyes on hers she watched as he exposed skin little by little. His chest came into view. The laurels, the butterfly, the swallows… He was a god.

But then, when he stood to remove his pants she got to her knees and stuck her fingers into the band of his Calvin Klein underwear, and looked up at him, “Can I take these off of you?”

“Please.”

She smiled at the please. She was tempted to run her palm over the large bulge under the fabric of his briefs first but she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to see him. The moment she pulled the stretchy material down and his cock plopped outward toward her face she moaned as she looked at it closely. Continuing to pull his briefs down his legs, she kept her eyes on his hardened organ. It looked heavy.

“Harry…” she breathed out a moan and looked up at him in all his naked glory. It was even better than she imagined. “Fuck.”

Running her hands up his thighs she focused on the tiger tattoo and delicately kissed over the ink. The solid tissue under his skin was taut. He was strong. His thighs were thick with muscles. Good for a nice hard fuck with lots of stamina, she imagined.

“Can I touch your pretty cock, Harry?” She asked him as she looked up from her spot on her knees. Y/n was still fully dressed but she needed to worship his body for a bit first. It was very important. His build was perfection and he deserved the praise and attention for it.

“Yes, please.” He nodded.

She grinned and tilted her head, “I love it when you say please.”

She turned her focus to the thickened cock before her. He was so hard the foreskin was effectively pulled back revealing his engorged, pink tip. Smooth and pretty. She flattened her palms along either side of his dick over his trimmed pubes and let her fingertips reach up to the laurels at his hips before she grazed her thumb along his shaft.

Harry gasped as he watched her touch him and inspect him. He loved her attention.

“You’re so warm,” she cupped her palm under his shaft and lifted upward. “It’s heavy.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips over the laurels on his hips and sighed as his cock nudged against her chest. The man was incredible. A work of art. She smoothed her palms upward to his stomach and over his abs, tight and well-muscled. Masculine. Pretty.

Y/n had always appreciated how attractive and fit Harry was from afar. Making up scenarios in her head that allowed her to touch him and lick him and do ungodly things to him. Imagining he’d pluck her from the crowd and invite her backstage and then bring her back to his room and fuck her brains out. And she felt like her fantasy was now becoming a reality.

“I’ve always wanted to touch you and see you up close. You’re so sexy, Harry,” she purred as she brushed her hands down to his sides and around his low back as she looked up at him standing over her, “Can I put it in my mouth?” She directed her eyes to his cock and then back up to him.

“If you want. Is it easier if-“

“Just like this. Just need you in my mouth,” she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and lifted him upward, and licked the underside of his cock all the way to the tip. He tasted clean. She could tell he’d showered after the show. He smelled good and he looked even better.

Harry wasn’t sure what to do with his hands but he settled on putting his fingers at the back of her head gently. Not to push her or force her down but just to feel her in his hands and to touch what he could reach.

Kissing the ridge of his frenulum she kept her eyes upward on his as she widened her mouth and put her tongue out before gently wrapping her lips around his smooth tip. Harry’s mouth dropped open as he watched her take him.

She licked and sucked the tip as she slowly stroked him at his base. Pulling back she smiled up at him, “You’re so long. I don’t think I can take you all the way. I’m gonna do my best to make it feel so good for you.” With that, she put his tip back into her mouth and got to work.

Harry groaned and let out the smallest whine, “S’okay. You’re perfect. Just like that, angel.”

She smiled around him and moaned softly at the little nickname. Angel. She figured that was cute.

With her free hand, she brushed her fingers over his thigh and the fine hairs over his skin. There wasn’t any single part of him that wasn’t gorgeous.

Bobbing her head and getting into a good rhythm she found that she could take him a little more. He was still quite thick, though, and it proved difficult.

“You don’t have to… fuck, fuck!” Harry moaned. She felt so good around him doing it just like she was. If she couldn’t deep-throat him he’d still be the happiest man on the planet at that moment. “Don’t have to go so deep. I wanna taste too…” he panted his words.

She pulled back when she tasted his precome and kissed her lips down his shaft to his pubes, seeing flecks of her glitter in the thatch of hair that surrounded his thick base, and then looked up at him before shifting to stand up. She dipped in to kiss his butterfly tattoo, gently poking her tongue out as she went and then upward to his pecs. Using her tongue she lapped at the muscle and wet his nipple before kissing all around, feeling his hair tickle her lips as she let her mouth drag over his skin. She traveled to the other side, her hands on his ribs, kissing and licking at his pectoral.

She sucked his nipple into her mouth and moaned when he gasped in response. Up she ventured to his swallows just under his clavicle, kissing the ink over his bone and skin and then his neck again.

“You’re gonna make me come just like this. Holy shit.” Harry was so hard it hurt and her lips on his skin felt like magic. “Please. Let me lick you too. Take this off.” He pleaded as he plucked at the fabric of her bodysuit.

Y/n stood back and began to unzip the back as she watched Harry. The girl was gorgeous already. Her hair with glitter and soft lips, round doe eyes… but when her tits softly bounced from the fabric she had them trapped under he nearly fell to his knees.

Her nipples were already tight and hard and the flesh that surrounded them was indulgent. Plump. He watched as she pulled the material down her body until she was nude. She’d had nothing on under her bodysuit.

Harry reached to cup her breasts and the moment his palms found her delicate skin and felt her nipples pressing into his hand he leaned down and wrapped his lips around her nipple.

Harry Styles pink lips were sucking on her nipple. The Harry Styles (she repeated in her mind). She didn’t know what sort of good thing she’d done in life to deserve having this happen but she would not question it. She stuffed her fingers into his soft curls and cooed at him, “Feels so good, Harry. I love having your mouth on my skin like this.”

Harry squeezed and kneaded and licked and sucked. He peppered kisses over every inch of her breasts until Y/n was keening and her fingers were tight in his hair.

He pressed his lips to hers and pulled her toward the big bed, her back hitting the mattress solidly before he climbed between her legs and moaned at the state she was in, “Just need a taste. Is that okay?” He looked up at her, his hands smoothing from the inner bend of her knee up toward the top of her inner thigh, inches from her pussy.

“Yes. Of course, it is.” She was going to say more but the words caught in her throat as she watched him go in tongue first. Her cushiony crease was damp and tasty.

Pushing her deeper into the bed, he kept himself between her thighs before putting his arms under her hip and pushing his shoulders against the back of her thighs to keep her spread and open for him.

He began to lick and lap as he watched her eyes. The scruff on his face brushed at her soft skin and her pussy lips felt it too. But she was not going to stop him. She hoped she had scruff burn, or whatever the equivalent of a carpet burn from being eaten out by a man with an overgrown trim on his face was called.

Soft and wet and cushy. Harry was gentle with his licks and kisses. He was wetting his lips and tasting her arousal, swallowing it down, and digging in a little deeper when she started to pant and swivel her hips.

Suddenly the quick flicking of his tongue on her clit caught her off guard from the subdued licking and kissing he’d issued her at first. She moaned as she watched his pink tongue ravage her button. He was pushing into it, flicking it, pressing it down, lifting it up, and then… then he looked into her eyes as he wrapped his lips around her clit and pulled it into his mouth. Slurping noises took over the easy slushy sound of his tongue licking through her folds.

“Harry!” She craned her neck to see what sorcery he was performing, “You’re so good. Right there… yes!”

He had a few go-to cunnilingus moves. This one always seemed to get the biggest reaction the fastest. It also brought women to orgasm in record time. It took some practice but he’d suck the clit and continue flicking his tongue while applying pressure with his mouth over the pelvis.

And the way she was squirming indicated she was enjoying it very much.

He released her clit and then went back to slow licks and kisses up her crease. He stopped at her entrance and lapped at the slick spot for a moment before sticking his tongue inside as far as it would reach. Nuzzling in as close as he could get, he poked his tongue in and out and nudged his nose to her clit, rubbing back and forth.

“Fuck! Yes… Oh my god!”

Harry gently rocked his hips down into the mattress. His cock was throbbing. But he wanted her to come.

Y/n saw his motion and could tell he must be aching. And as much as she’d have loved to let him take his time and eat her out it could take awhile to get her to come from that alone. But she knew one thing that would satisfy her like nothing else.

“H…Harry?” She panted her words as he continued working at her pussy with his mouth.

He lifted his face, “What is it?”

“Would you… Do you want to have sex?” She wasn’t sure if that was where this was headed. Oral sex was great of course. But she’d seen his cock and his body was strong and lithe and she knew he’d be good at fucking. It was all she could think of. Having him inside of her, splitting her open, moving into her repeatedly…

Harry sat up, his chest red and his cock even redder, “Sure. I mean… I’d love that. But this,” he gestured toward her and then himself before putting his palm back on her inner thigh, “is only just for tonight. I just want to make that clear. I’m still on tour and… well you know.” His breaths were deep and ragged.

He hated to give the spiel right then, but it hadn’t come up and if there was one thing he learned in all of his years of having casual sex, it was to be upfront even if it put a slight damper on the mood. It was better than waiting until afterward.

She nodded and grinned, “Well yeah. I didn’t think you’d propose to me or anything. I know what this is. Just for tonight.”

Harry and Y/n positioned themselves on the bed into the pillows and Harry reached over to grab a condom but Y/n took it from him before he could open the wrapper, “Let me put it on you, big guy.”

Harry clenched his jaw and watched the pretty girl tear the wrapper and then straddle his thighs as she held his thick shaft in her palm so she could position the condom over his head before slowly rolling it down over his shaft, “Mmm… It’s tight on you. You’re so big, Harry.”

His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Harry was a big fan of having his ego stroked. Loved being complimented. Praised. Loved when his cock was fawned over.

When the condom was on, Harry grabbed her hips as she climbed over him, lowering her pussy against his condom-covered cock and slipping up and down his shaft to wet the condom.

Glitter was everywhere. On his torso, on her tits, his shoulders, her thighs. She was too far gone to worry about what that could mean for later. She just wanted to feel him inside of her. She ached to have him inside of her.

Their mouths met again as they moved slowly together. Y/n could feel Harry’s tight grip on her thigh and then as he moved one hand to cup her ass, he squeezed and bucked up gently.

She couldn’t wait to get him inside of her so she lifted herself to her knees and placed her hands on his shoulders, “Can I fuck myself on your pretty cock now? You ready to feel me?”

Harry moaned, “God yes.”

Harry was in awe of how she was speaking to him. Not shy and not over the top with how she was taking the lead either. She still allowed him to do things he wanted, but she took initiative and it was one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced.

She grasped the base of his cock and looked down to where they were pressed together as she placed him at her entrance. Harry’s rigid cock was thick and she felt how tight the fit was the moment she slid down over his crown.

Harry groaned and moved both of his hands to her tits and squeezed as she took her time sitting over him.

“You’re so hard, Harry. So thick. Do you feel that?”

Harry’s head was spinning. Y/n was exactly what he needed for the night. The perfect combination of sexy and bold. An angel who knew what she wanted and took it. “Yes, angel… god… gonna dream of this forever,” he looked into her eyes once she was finally seated over him, his dick pressed into her so deep she was sure there had never been anyone that had reached that far into her before.

She knew this was just for the night. Understood Harry’s reasoning and figured that’s what this was going into it. But this was something she’d never forget. She’d always look back on this fondly. And even though he was looking at her in such a way that felt far more intimate than it should, she wouldn’t allow herself to wonder what it would be like to see him again. Because that was definitely not going to happen.

When she began to glide up and down shallowly they both panted in shaky breaths. Harry was glad the condom was giving him the slightest barrier so he didn’t come immediately. Because her tits and her skin, the soft specs of glitter, her lips, and tight pussy were begging for his orgasm. Begging for his come. Everything about her was sex. A gift in the form of a glittery angel that was coaxing and urging an orgasm from him.

“You’re gonna make me come so hard. Fucking perfect,” Harry whispered as she slowly ground over him and pressed her clit into his pelvis.

She nodded and smoothed her hands up, one at the side of his neck, the other on his jaw, “Yeah? My pussy feels so good, doesn’t it? Nice and tight around you. I just know I’m gripping the fuck out of your big cock.”

She moved slowly over him. Gently riding herself on his dick and keeping her clit stimulated as they kept their eyes on one another.

Finally, she leaned in and pressed her lips on his neck and squeezed at the opposite side of his throat as she nipped his skin and drew her mouth upward to his jaw, “God it feels so good, Harry.”

It did feel good. The best maybe. She loved that she got to be in control a little. Loved how he was letting her take the reigns. But she did want him to fuck the life out of her. Put his strong muscles to work. To make a loud chorus of sex sounds and moans bouncing off the walls of the suite.

Stopping her gentle rocking and grinding she licked into his mouth slowly before pulling away, “I need you to fuck me so hard that I feel it for days. Okay? Since this is all we get, want to take you with me through the week.”

Harry let out a whimpered laugh as she removed herself from his lap. Harry followed her and climbed over her as she laid herself down on her back.

He would give her exactly what she wanted. Harry could fuck. That was for certain. He didn’t work out as hard as he did for no reason. And he was attentive so he knew he could at least make it fun. He hoped to give her an orgasm and that was the goal. But if she wanted it hard, wanted to feel him for days, he’d make sure of that.

He pushed himself between her thighs and pulled her hips toward him, elevating her bum off the mattress the slightest as he placed his fingers on her clit, “I’ll fuck you hard, angel. But you tell me if you need anything or you need me to stop. Okay?”

Y/n nodded and grinned at him, “Give it to me, Harry,” she moaned and rolled her hips upward, pressing her clit into his hand. Her thighs were angled upward with her feet flat on the mattress, her bottom resting between Harry’s thighs as he sat back on his haunches. This position would give him plenty of leverage to fuck into her hard and deep using his strong thighs.

Harry’s whole shaft was already coated in her as he lined himself up with her pussy. Removing his fingers from her clit he leaned forward and gave her tits an obligatory squeeze before he pushed his tip in, feeling the tight snap of her muscle expanding and receiving him.

They moaned in unison at the feel of him entering her slowly. He pressed in and slicked himself back out to the tip, watching the way she stretched around him, perfectly wet and aroused for him. And the next plunge he took wasn’t slow at all. She gasped as he slammed himself in to the hilt and held onto her hips, knocking her upward and making her tits bounce.

His pace was relentless and she knew it would be. He was strong and full of stamina. Each thrust and prod into her guts felt deeper and deeper and sharper and achier. She loved it.

She could barely get a single moan out with the way he was punching himself into her.

And just like she wanted, the sounds of sex surrounded them. Skin thudding together wetly, the smallest squeak of the bed rocked in time with his harsh thrust as he hammered into her, and their deep breaths and moans.

The view of her pussylips gripping him on each stroke was phenomenal. The smells, the sounds… The way her tits bounced and her mouth was dropped open. He knew at the very least she was enjoying it.

She moved her hand down her torso and to her clit while the other hand grasped onto one of Harry’s forearms where he kept a tight grasp on her hip.

Soaked. She was absolutely drenched. Her fingers slid over her throbbing button back and forth as Harry thrusted himself in and out deeper and deeper.

“This what you wanted, angel?” Harry asked the pretty girl who was quite clearly fucked out and flopping upward every time he plunged in balls deep.

Her tongue slid over her wet lips, “Oh! Fuck, Harry!” She gasped loudly.

Coming to a halt, he buried himself in until his balls were pressed into her bottom and he undulated his hips to punctuate just how deliciously deep he was inside of her.

She sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his cock grinding into her, [TK1] “You’re fucking me so good right now,” her chest was rising and falling and Harry couldn’t help when he brought a hand up to her breasts to fondle and press over her nipples, thumbs gliding over the supple skin. She sucked in a sharp breath and stretched her neck, keeping her eyes on his, “But you can always go harder.”

Harry blinked and coughed out a laugh, “Really? You want harder? Can I spank you?”

Y/n nodded quickly, “Fuck yes.”

And that was that. Harry loved a good spanking (whether giving or receiving if he were honest). He pulled out from her sweet pussy and lowered himself over her to kiss her mouth quickly.

But the moment he pulled away she was sitting up and turning herself around to give him access to her ass. On her hands and knees, she looked at him from over her shoulder and noted the way he was taking her all in.

He whined and grabbed onto the globes of her bum and smushed the flesh in his hands. Smoothing his palms over the expanse of her backside he brought them down to the backs of her thighs and then back up, letting his thumbs drag inward and through her wet pussy crease before finally issuing the first harsh strike.

She jumped at the sudden impact but when his palm came down on the other side she melted into the way his big hands felt on her. The sting and the leftover burn. Repeated smacks on either side were interrupted when he slammed his cock into her.

“Fuck I need to be inside of this pretty pussy.” He continued smacking her bum as he drove into her with long and hard strokes, bucking into her with meaningful thumps.

Y/n grasped the blankets under her and kept herself steady but by the time he was finished bruising her backside, his hips began to rock into her at a jarring pace once again. She slowly began to slip forward from his force.

With the front of Harry’s thighs pressed into the back of hers he put an arm under her middle to keep her from slipping too far down. His other hand moved from her hip down to her bum and pulled at the cheek as he rutted into her, a steady clatter of bodies knocking together.

Y/n reached down to rub her clit again, pushing Harry’s arm out of her way. He breathed out a laugh but moved his arm, bringing his other hand to the other side of her bottom, pulling both cheeks apart so he could watch himself sink into her over and over again. Small bits of her white cream were smearing over his condom and he imagined what it might look like to fill her up with his come and fuck himself into her, pushing his own orgasm deep into her insides.

“Harry!” She managed to cry out. It was difficult to speak at all but she was so close and the way he was rocking his hips into her in heavy plunges was perfection.

“I know, angel! You gonna come?” Harry’s words were strained. He was holding out for her to come first. Wanted to feel the squeeze and the throb of her pussy around him.

“Yes! Keep going!”

Harry could feel her fingers brushing against his balls as she rubbed her clit rapidly.

“M’gonna come… please, Y/n! Come for me angel!” He was trying his very best to stave off his orgasm but the view of her taking him and the sounds of him wetly plunging into her were sending him over the edge.

Suddenly Y/n removed her fingers from her clit and brought her hand behind her to grab Harry’s and pulled it forward, placing his palm over the front of her neck, “Choke me.”

Harry groaned as he put one palm flat onto the mattress next to her and used his other hand to squeeze at the sides of her neck. His strokes became slower, his hips pasted to her, pushing inward deep and heavy and sticky.

She sucked in one desperate gasp before his grip tightened just enough that she began to feel that sparkly, wooly stupor she loved with being gently choked. She reached for her clit and all she could focus on were the sounds of Harry grunting and moaning softly into her ear and the feel of his cock lodged deep into her guts. He wasn’t pulling back, only fucking himself forward, deeper and deeper as she submitted to her orgasm.

Harry could hear her wet gurgle and feel the way she vibrated under his body as he rocked into her and then the pulse of her soft walls, wrapped around his cock, gripping him tight as she fell into the realm of stupor and ecstasy.

He let go of her neck and straightened himself out, putting his hands onto her bottom and spreading her as he began to pound into her, long, smooth strokes of his cock nudging into her insides, stretching and splitting her as she came with shaky thighs.

“Fffucckk!” He threw his head back, the image of her swollen, wet, fucked out pussy seared in his brain as he began to come into his condom, filling it up with warm liquid. He groaned loudly into the suite as his balls were being properly drained, wishing, imagining he was giving her his come, coating her insides with him where her body would receive, swallow it, and use it accordingly.

“Oh my god, Harry!” Y/n gasped. He had nudged himself in as deep as he possibly could and the throb of his heavy cock in her felt like decadence. She couldn’t wait to check out the marks his fingers left behind the following day. The little secret only she’d know.

They collapsed together into the bed, Harry pulling out and carefully taking his condom off, discarding it on the floor without much care.

“You’re gonna stay here with me tonight?”

She let her fingers slowly work their way up his abs and over the butterfly, “If you want me to. I don’t mind leaving.”

She didn’t want to leave and Harry didn’t want her to either.

“I want you to stay. I’ve got a wake up at 9 am for a training session so, we can get you a taxi to your hotel or wherever you need then,” he sighed and dug an arm under her shoulder, dragging her toward himself.

Closing her eyes and smiling into his shoulder she nodded, “That sounds great.”

It was a shame this was all only for the night. He’d been an excellent lover, but it was fair of course. He was a busy, famous, pop star. She couldn’t blame him for setting that boundary. She was glad she even had the chance with him at all. This would definitely be something she’d never forget.

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