#he has heart shaped face and I think it's really hard to nail the jaw shapes on a few angles

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Nailing Neil's face is so much harder than Sam 💀

I need to do more Neil face study (〒▽〒)

[xticklemeemox]

The Love You Want: III, Part Fifteen

Word count: 20,059

I had PLANS for the aquarium date i swear they’re just… poorly executed. I struggled SO hard with this damn date even though there were a certain few things I absolutely had to include. This feels like i’ve handed y’all almost 20k words of trash. This chapter did not want to be written and I feel so bad it’s taken this long, and for it to end up like… really shitty. really really shitty. Everyone say thank you sleep token paris show with LP for being the reason I got my ass in gear to finish it (BLONDE SHORT HAIR III OH MY SLEEP) (also insomniac on twt for being so encouraging and kind even though I know this chapter is shit) there may be minor errors in hwo things are timelined in this one cause i moved a scene further up into the chapter, i really tried to make sure i fixed everything so, sorry in advance

Ao3

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____ opens his eyes to the sound of waves crashing on a shore at his back, sand giving way beneath his bare feet. The moonless sky above him is dark, an endless expanse of deep grey rain clouds. He looks around, confused, blonde hair being blown around gently in a breeze that doesn't smell of anything despite the expectation of seasalt.

He had just laid down to try and sleep, hadn't he? Desperate to escape the sounds of raucous laughter from the living room, the feeling of bruises on his hips and beer on his tongue from harsh, demanding kisses.

There is flickering light in the distance, and ____ finds himself walking with purpose towards it. He notices that the light is not that of a bonfire, but of small candles as he grows closer. In this circle of candles lies a man, a long cloak covering most of his form. With each flicker of the flames surrounding him, his prone form flickers, too. One moment, he appears as though he has antlers branching off of his head, making grooves in the sand. The antlers themselves have white lillies wreathed around the base, dark silver chains with pieces of decorative iron shapes, resembling a four pointed star, hanging between. There are white bandages wrapped around his covered calves, criss crossing over each other loosely. A mask sits upon his face, pearly white with a large red sigil that drips down over the cut outs of six lightly squinted eyes, as though the mask is smiling. Jutting down into some variation of fleur-de-lis points past the open mouth and creeping up along the jaw and nose is detailed red, swirling flowery filigree. Splatters of red lead up towards the temples, reminding ____ of blood.

In the next moment, he is just a man, skin as black as coal with veins of gold on the parts of his arms visible through bone white bandages. Attached to his ring finger on his left hand, are three red threads, one tied to each joint. The one closest to the nail is faint, the end of the thread leading off a couple of inches before it dissipates into nothingness. Unlike that thread, the other two are strong, tangible, with no loose threads. The mask under the hood changes too, losing the bloody filigree, the smooth texture, seeming more skull-like in material, with more grooves.

"Hello?" He calls, stopping at the edge of the circle.

The man does not stir, but with the state of his body, ____ doesn't think he even could. Still as the dead, the sight begs the question of whether or not the man was alive at all. ____ finds his answer quickly, eyes drawn to the beating heart laying in the strange mans outstretched hand, curled up on his side as though he was cradling it. A trail of blood and viscera overflows from the golden offering plate under their hand, leading from the heart to the gaping wound in the man's chest, a golden bladed knife stewn not far from the body. Ribs are splintered and pulled apart, a grisly sight that leaves ____ feeling vaguely ill, unable to tear his eyes from the empty cavity of the man's chest. Of the black sludge dripping out and colliding with red blood, but never mixing.

With difficulty, ____ tears his eyes from the bloody mess, and back to the heart, somehow less gory.

It is missing chunks, only a quarter of it left, and yet it still beats, a steady thumpthumpthump that pounds in ____'s ears. Sharp claws dig into the tender flesh of the right atrium, no kindness in the grey knuckled grip. The breeze picks up, tousling both of their hair, sand finding a home in the crevices of their clothes.

____ finds himself sitting, kneeling at the edge of the circle. Something in him begs to move closer, to pull the stranger into his arms, to comfort. He fears breaking the circle, something clearly sacred, but his soul yearns to touch. Waves crash on a distant shore, and neither he nor the man move.

Six eyes blink open, a set at a time, pupiless, crimson irises glowing from within the pitch black darkness of the eyes of the mask. They're captivating, beautiful-

Suddenly, ____ knows who this is, the memory hitting him like a lightning strike. Though the appearance is different, ____'s soul knows.

The man does not speak, does not move, only watches with tired, sad eyes as though looking right through ____. His eyes wander listlessly, searchingly, lips forming around a word that ____ cannot hear, but thinks he may know regardless. Plush, black painted lips seem to part around the word 'four,' over and over as if in question, eyes still searching for something.

With time that seems to stretch along infinitely, ____ feels something tickling the back of his mind. A name comes to the forefront, falling off his tongue gently, a mere breath leaving him in concern.

"Vessel?"

Crimson eyes meet the ocean blue of ____'s, snapping to focus as though Vessel knew where he was all along. There is panic, there, and fear. So much fear.

Wind roars overhead, the already cloudy sky going darker as they go from rainy grey to stormcloud black. Water laps at ____'s feet, where before the ocean has been distant.

"You shouldn't be here." Vessel's voice is hushed, choked with emotion, red blood dribbling over the side of his mouth.

In an instant, ____ realizes this is not a nightmare, but some strange mix of a memory like the times before this, and a dream.

Vessel sits up slowly, the veil of magic clinging to the top of his head beginning to slip. Antlers flicker in and out of existence with the weakening flame of the candles, the wind testing their resilience. An animal pelt on the back of his right shoulder trickles sand. On his left shoulder, a three tiered pauldron sits, white, with the same fur as the pelt between each tier. Chunks of golden corral sit at the top, and the same intricate design on his mask also sits on the rim of each tier, gold detail mirroring the mask as well. The pauldron itself is held in place by a strap across Vessel's chest.

Hands cradle the bloody heart close to Vessel's chest, golden tears slipping out from under the ever shifting mask.

"Vessel, what is this-?" ____ starts, alarmed, as salty seawater begins to rise over his ankles.

"Are you hurt?! Fuck, stupid question, I can see you're hurt-" He exclaims, frantic, reaching out to pull Vessel from the ground. "Please, let me help you! We need to move, the water's-!"

The other man is still kneeling in the sand, clutching his own heart with nails digging into the beating flesh. Water has made it's way to his waist, licking at ____'s own knees.

____'s hands hit an invisible barrier, lined around the circle of candles, unable to reach Vessel. His head is bowed, squeezing the life out of the heart in his hands. Horrified, ____ begs him to stop, tears desperate to slip over, to fall. He watches in terror as the hearts beating grows weaker and weaker, fluttering like a dying bird. Vessel is killing himself in front of him, and ____ is unable to stop him, to hold him, to help.

"No one was supposed to know." Vessel laments, barely able to be heard over the crashing waves growing ever closer. "They will not love me if they know my heart is no longer my own."

Vessel stands, coming up to his full height that towers over ____. His form entirely shifts to something completely inhuman, something almost like living shadow beginning to waft off his pitch black skin. Golden tears splash into the water lapping at ____'s waist as Vessel moves through the water towards him, eyes glowing a crimson red behind his mask, like the strange sigil sitting in the hollow of his throat. The antlers atop his head, jutting out through slits in the hood of his cloak, are extravagant and sharply pointed, the silver chains and lillies softening the intimidating sight into something more elegant. White hair peeks out from the dark void of his hood, like silver moonlight. An image of a scythe, made of white bones and an intricately carved ribcage complete with a blackened heart, is strapped to Vessel's back, rippling on the water's surface. ____ looks back up, expecting to see the scythe on Vessel's back, but only finds empty air. Chancing a glance back down into the ocean, the scythe remains on the rippling image of the water's surface alone.

In the middle of his chest sits a large golden scar, uneven and littered with slash marks where skin had been cut through and carelessly pulled aside to make way for hands to extract the organ within. It travels down the length of Vessel's sternum, uneven and gruesome, a clearly agonizing injury.

Candlelight flickers at their feet, unnaturally lit even with the water submerging them, Vessel stopping at the invisible barrier between them. Careful hands offer up the heart, held carelessly between loosening fingers. Divots are left in the beating flesh as claws release their grip. Distant, crimson eyes search ____'s face, catching on the fresh bruise over his cheekbone.

"Are you in pain like I am?"

Ocean blue eyes meet pupilless blood red as the devastated whisper washes over ____. A split second later, waves crash over their heads, water filling ____'s lungs-

____ wakes up, shooting up in bed to the sound of the same loud laughter he fell asleep to.

Coughing, seawater spills out of his mouth, salt stinging his nose and eyes before the feeling eventually fades like a dream. When his lungs are clear, he rubs his face with both hands, struggling to come to terms with what he's witnessed. He knows he has seen that man before, a couple of times at least. Why... why in this dream could he not remember him until a glimpse at his six eyes had brought the memories forth? The beating heart and golden tears, the antlers, six crimson eyes... he couldn't possibly be human. Is ____ dreaming of a God? Is he being visited by a divine entity, forced to watch as someone once human suffers? ____ doesn't understand, no matter how his brain twists and turns over what he's witnessed.

"____! Get your ass out here and get us some more fucking beer!"

____ stands, wincing as the movement pulls on the bruised skin of his hips. Bracing himself, a hand hesitantly reaching for the doorknob, ____ takes in a deep, deep breath to steady the racing of his heart.

It pounds in his chest, just as the bloodied mess of- What was his name?

The thought slips away like water under a bridge. What was ____ even thinking about? It must have been a strange dream, for his mind to still be so muddled after waking up. He startles at the sound of another shout of his name, irritation blatant and terrifying. Hurried now, ____ leaves his room with a wince, fearing the harsh berating he is sure to come for taking too long to do as told.

II is up and starting the day earlier than the other two vessels for once, but isn't entirely surprised by it. It still takes a lot of energy for III to keep up their glamor for so long, and Vessel had a hard day yesterday. He takes a moment to sit in the rock hard hotel bed and admire Vessel and III, Vessel curled around III's mostly covered form. Tender caresses are bestowed upon their skin, over the curve of Vessel's cheek, down the slope of III's nose, through each of their hair. Every touch is reverent, worshipping. II is sure he has no need of a God, not when he has these two.

Dark bags under Vessel's human eyes pull a frown onto II's face, dried tears having left glistening tracks. Was Vessel crying last night while they slept? II had hoped Ves would wake them up if he needed anything, but knows the other man likely still needs time to warm up to that. He's come so far as it is. II is so, so proud of him for the progress he's made.

Sleep's presence, felt faintly, lingers at the edges of the room, a silent observer. II isn't sure if the God is even fully here with them, or if its only a piece of Him able to follow them around. II doesn't really care either way, chunks of his initial love for the God slowly being torn off with every action Sleep has taken that has hurt those II loves.

Glancing over at Nick to find him still deeply asleep, II starts getting ready after covering III's unglamored form back up with the bedsheets. He knew Vessel would be excited about the aquarium, glad he had the foresight to look into the city the festival was going to be in. An ad had caught his eye, and after making sure it wasn't a scam, II looked into it further. Looking over the exhibits offered, II knew he needed to take Vessel. Absolutely needed to. III had agreed when II mentioned his idea, eager to see Vessel's reaction. The mere thought of how excited Vessel had looked when II had brought it up, exhausted as he was, was fuel enough to keep II's soul burning bright for decades.

Gathering up all the stuff they would need, II takes it out to the car. It was mostly just spare clothes, since they didn't unpack any of their equipment. II comes back into their room as quiet as he can. III is sitting up in bed, rubbing sleep from their eyes with black stained hands, hair a baby blue mess around their head. "Hey honey, sleep alright?" II greets, gaze soft with love.

"Mm. Good."

"That's good, sweetheart. You should put your glamor back up, if you can." II requests quietly, glancing over at a sleeping Nick as he leans over the bed to smooth a strand of hair behind their ear.

"Mm." III hums again, carefully getting out of bed so they don't disturb Vessel, who is still sleeping, too.

"Wanna shower?" III mumbles, stretching while magic shimmers very faintly over their form, reapplying their glamor.

"Together?" II muses, eyebrows raised and a small smile playing at his lips.

"It's not like I haven't seen everything before, Doll." III smirks, but they're so sleepy still that it comes across as more of a smile.

"Sweetheart, we showered last night. Don't you remember?"

III frowns, thinking. "Oh. No, I didn't remember. Was exhausted."

"We can shower together some other time." II laughs, so, so fondly, reaching out to pull III into a kiss with a gentle hand at their nape.

When they part, II says, "You should start getting ready soon. I would like to leave before noon if we can."

"Can I... get dressed up?" III asks, hesitant.

II levels a confused but soft look up at him, "Of course you can. I was expecting you and Vessel to be dressed up. It's our first proper date away from home, after all."

"You won't mind if I wear makeup?" Less hesitant but still unsure, III tries to come across as nonchalant, but II knows them better by now.

"If you wanted to look as if you've just stepped off the red carpet for the Met Gala, I wouldn't stop you. Wear whatever you want, be it makeup or clothes."

III smiles, a gentle thing that is opposite to how they pull II forward with arms around his shoulders, kissing him roughly and adoringly.

They have found themselves struggling lately, with the weight of their past, bad memories that linger because that is the way Sleep made them. III has settled in entirely with being a vessel, and even though that was a quick thing at the beginning, eager for acceptance and love, he is only now beginning to have problems. It's frustrating for everything to have been going so well, and his own mind seems to have other ideas. As Vessel starts slowly healing, III seems to be reverting. II, as well, if the stint of smoking is anything to go by. III really hopes it's a one time thing and that II's bad habit won't make a return.

III had thought- had hoped... he wanted to move beyond his past life. That was why Sleep had taken most of their memories, wasn't it? But it's haunting all three of them, even after rebirth. Maybe Sleep should have taken everything, left them as nothing more than blank slate's.

II's lips on his makes III feel a little like everything is going to be okay, no matter what. It's a familiar feeling, when II is near, when II smiles up at III so prettily, with that self-assured little glint in his eyes.

When III pulls away, II is noticeably breathless, panting. It makes III's smile stretch into a grin, "Can I do your eyeliner?"

"Mine?" II mumbles, dazed, eyeing III's lips hungrily, "Uh, sure. Yeah. No wing though, please."

III pouts, but agrees without a fuss, pulling II by the hand towards the small bathroom. "Are we going to be wearing our masks?"

"We don't need to since we have our uh, y'know-" II lifts up his necklace for emphasis, "Vessel would probably like to wear his but... we could get him one of those surgical face masks?"

"Oh! Good idea! He'll feel so much better with that instead of his mask. We'll all blend into the crowd better, too. Speaking of Ves, should we wake him up?"

"No." II decides, keeping his voice low, "We'll let him sleep a little longer. He deserves it, having taken the brunt of the ritual magic yesterday. If he sleeps past eleven though, I'll need to wake him up."

"That really scared me." III says, almost meek, the admission lightening a bit of weight on their shoulders as they begin to pull out their makeup kit from their duffel bag.

"It scared me, too. It was nothing like our worship in practice or at the altar." II closes his eyes as III directs, content to let III work.

Between careful strokes with an eyeliner pencil and a brush to smoke it out, II peeks an eye open to watch III dig around in their makeup bag, the picture of concentration. III truly is a beautiful man, II thinks, a blush slowly spreading from his cheeks downwards.

"See something you like, pretty?" III comments offhandedly, not looking away from their search.

"Always." II smiles, "You're so beautiful. Inside and out."

"You flatter me." III says, brushing off II's words with a shy smile.

II sits, stunned for a moment. III thinks that II is only flattering him? Perhaps this is taking a page from Vessel's book, but II would become the air so that he could be the breeze, gentle enough to rustle III's hair in the light of day. III is always so beautiful in the sun.

"I'm admiring you." II corrects, gentle hands reaching out to stop III in his tracks for just a moment. "I do not do flattery. I mean what I say. If I could, I would show you how you look from my eyes. The sun seems to follow you, a light in a dark room. You're gorgeous, and I wish you could see that."

III blushes, a pretty red spreading across their face like wildfire. They cover their face with their hands, trying to hide away from the praise. III feels unusually shy, a little off kilter, when he says, "I love you. You mean the world to me."

"I love you, too, sweetheart. Now, am I done, or do you intend to put mascara on me as well?"

"Well, since you offered..." III grins, and the weighted bond feels a little lighter, like the dark cloud that had been hanging over III has finally begun to recede if only slightly.

III's mood seems improved, after that. The bond is content between them, broken only by the fuzzy feeling of Vessel sleeping. By the time III is done with II's makeup and moving on to his own, Nick is waking up. II doesn't bother watching the other man get ready for the day, only scooting to the side of the counter when Nick comes out from the small room with the shower and toilet, to fix his messy bed hair into something presentable in the large mirror. III is finishing up with their eyeliner as Nick goes back towards the main area of the room.

"I'll be right back. Gonna grab a pack from the car." Nick comments without any intention of receiving an answer.

The door slams shut behind him, and while II and III's faces both twist up into annoyance, Vessel wakes up choking on a sob. Smothering the bond out of instinct, Vessel both takes peace in the near silence of the bond going quieter, and hates the way II and III go distant. The sound of the door slamming has his mind reeling, caught between his dream and reality, unable to process what is going on around him. It takes but a moment for his mind to move from the fear of potential pain from hands that used to hurt him and on to what his dream had entailed. He feels somehow stuck in his past and present and his dream all at once. Vessel doesn't know what's going on in his own mind, he can't focus, he needs to focus-

The terror on Four's face, set into the worry lines by his mouth and the crinkles by his eyes comes to the forefront of Vessel's mind. He thinks that for just a brief moment, just a fraction of a second, he may have been able to see Four's face in its entirety before waves crashed over their heads. His magic had been so strong, swirling within him and around him, churning the ocean water, leaking out of every pore as exhaustion weighed his body down, Vessel isn't entirely sure what was going on in his dream before or after Four's arrival. He knows one thing though, Four knows.

No one was supposed to know.

And now, two people know what Vessel has tried so hard to keep hidden.

The dream starts slipping away. Something in Vessel knows if he lets it, he will lose Four with it. He grasps ahold of the memory of his dream, holding tight to it as it blurs in his mind. Vessel doesn't want to forget. It doesn't matter that Four knows his secret, Vessel doesn't want to forget.

The force tearing his dream away from him loosens its clawed grip before disappearing entirely, and everything comes back into clarity.

That dream is his, Four is his, and nothing will keep him from it.

The possesiveness scares him. He has always been so selfish, holding too tightly to everything that was his knowing that nothing lasts forever.

He coughs, trying to rid his lungs of water that isn't truly suffocating him, curling into himself under the coarse hotel sheets. Tears are beginning to make a wet spot on the pillow as II and III make their way to him hastily. It had been only a few seconds since he'd woken, but Vessel felt as though it had been a lifetime. He is so tired.

II reaches out, intending to comfort. Where the action had been welcome, before, Vessel slowly less and less expecting of a hit, now he reels back, scrambling to the other side of the bed, legs tangling in the sheets. He doesn't know if he was expecting to be hurt, or if he was afraid of his secret getting out. He thinks, perhaps, its both. He coughs again, sure that saltwater will come up with it, but there is nothing but saliva splattering on his hands.

"Ves, honey, how can I help you?" II tries carefully, handing over a pack of tissues.

Vessel only barely manages to get himself to reach out and take the pack, hesitant of II's hands like he had been in the very beginning. It breaks II's heart. When there is no response, III asks a similar question, hovering behind II with a worried expression. It's clear they want to ask more questions, but III shows restraint.

The hotel room door opens, Nick stepping through while shrugging his jacket on. He takes in the scene, a concerned, curious expression pasting itself on his face.

"Nightmare disrupt your beauty rest, princess?" Nick poses the question lightly, a joking smile pulling gently at his lips as he takes in Vessel's tears with this look in his eyes that begets a sense of satisfaction.

Vessel's expression shutters, like a light has gone out behind his eyes, face falling into humiliation and upset. Cold fury blazes in II's veins at the sight of Vessel's eyes going dead. A far too familiar sight, reminiscent of when II had first arrived as a vessel. So much time and effort and love has been put in to helping Vessel heal enough to bring that spark back to his eyes... to bring him to life...

"Leave it, Nick. He has a difficult enough time sleeping as it is. I know you're only joking, but now is not the time. And don't slam the fucking door next time." II turns quickly, almost spitting in his anger, trying hard to not be too biting in tone despite the way he bristles at the joke.

A strange expression twists onto Nick's face, something trapped between a sneer and a tight smile. Vessel shrinks into himself, the expresion oddly familiar, even if he has no face in his mind to truly compare it to.

"My bad. Not the time." Nick parrots, guilt seeping into his smile, "I'll be back. Going for a smoke."

The door clicks shut behind Nick, more conscious of the sound now, II watching him pull out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket as he goes. Something in II longs for the deathstick between his fingers, the smoke burning his lungs. He turns back to Vessel, shaking his head lightly to rid himself of the thought. His hands shake with his want.

It takes a moment for Vessel's voice to work, already strained vocal chords locking up in his fear. Tentatively, he lets the bond bleed back into focus, guilty over the concern the other two or feeling, but ultimately unable to force his own fear and anxiety to the side despite his best efforts.

"Don't touch. Please." Vessel hates to ask this of them, wanting the exact opposite of his request, the words thick on his tongue.

"Bad day, Sugar?" III asks, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, body poised to get up quickly in case Vessel deems him too near.

II sits beside him, hands carefully laid flat on his lap, though his fingers drum gently against his leg. Somehow, the sight of II still drumming, even now, brings a little bit of amusement to Vessel, knowing the other man always had a beat on his mind. Tapping it out soothes II's own anxieties, shows when he's feeling content, happy, sad. The familiarity leaves Vessel wanting to hold II's hands, to offer up his own skin for II to tap against.... but those hands could also discover Vessel's lack of heartbeat.

"Mhm. Don't- Want it to be." Vessel tries to wipe his tears away, but they won't stop falling. "I want... I want to be able to-"

Fear leaves him shaking, thoughts of the others finding out about his lack of heart racing through his mind on a loop that he fears will never end. Vessel wants to be held, wants to curl up in II or III's lap, whichever of the two would allow him the comfort, but now more than ever he is scared of wandering hands. Hands that would not intentionally betray him, he knows, but... Vessel is afraid.

"I... I... my rule. Please, my rule... you'll follow it?" Vessel is desperate, so desperate for affection, for their love.

Even if he doesn't deserve it. Even if he knows it is only fleeting. One day, they'll realize he isn't worth anything.

Softly, reaching a hand out slowly in offering, III says, "Always. Your comfort matters to us more than anything, Sugar."

Vessel's fingers are cold as death when he reaches out to touch just the tips of them to III's hand, a faint tremble wracking his frame.

"Here, sweetheart. Maybe it will help with the cold." II says, standing to retrieve Vessel's hoodie for him.

Vessel doesn't have the heart (ha) to tell him it won't. He takes the hoodie anyway, grateful for the kind thought.

Vessel slips it on, and covers his head with the hood, contemplating whether he should pull the sleeves over his hands or not. Ultimately, he decides against it, crawling from under the covers and into III's lap. They welcome him with open arms, stroking a gentle thumb over Vessel's cheek when the other rests his head on III's thigh. "Better?" III asks, thanking II in Vessel's stead quietly.

The only response he receives from Vessel is a timid nod while he cinches up the hood of his hoodie tightly. III's arms comes to rest over Vessel's shoulder, hand hanging limply onto the bed. Their hands do no stray, do not wander where Vessel has asked them not to. He is thankful that they're so strangely willing to listen to him.

III continues stroking over Vessel's cheek, hand warm against Vessel's cool skin. III doesn't care that tears smear against his thumb, not when Vessel is allowing the touch.

"Would you like to speak about your nightmare, Ves? You don't- Ves, honey you don't have to!"

Before II has even finished his sentence, the bond is flooding with fear. Shaking his head profusely, Vessel curls into himself, hands clutched tightly over his chest. "Ves, love, please don't hide from us. I'm not going to force you to tell us anything." II tries, letting a sigh of relief spill when Vessel slowly lets a bit of the bond bleed back into focus.

The distance between them had been frightening, no matter how close they were physically. That distance Sleep had forced between them during their set the day before had been frightening, too, bit it was out of all of their control. Sometimes, II wonders if the bonds are just strings, an easy way for the God to puppeteer them at His whim. Or chains, perhaps. They are bound to him, after all. Sleep could take away His gift at any time, if the God saw fit, II is sure.

"Don't shut us out, please. Take all the time you need to calm down. We'll be here." III leans down to press a kiss onto Vessel's hood, their hand never losing the tenderness.

Vessel is so grateful to them. He needs them to know that, and so he tells them in the easiest way he knows how, by sending it down the bond. The warm affection he receives makes him cry harder, letting their love for him chase away his fearful thoughts, for now.

The terror has lessened with the others comfort, his tears abating eventually. Vessel is left tired, as if he had never slept at all. He doesn't want to go back to the way things were in the beginning, when he was afraid to touch and be touched. He wants things to remain as they are, he wants to trust that they won't hurt him without nightmares and plain old fear getting in his way. Vessel wants to believe they won't leave, if they find out what he is lacking. He doesn't, but he wants to. He wants so many selfish things...

"We're going home." II announces, moving to stand, "I'll call Nick back-"

"I still want to go on our date." Vessel says, voice hoarse, his eyes peeking out from under the cinched hood of his hoodie.

"You do?" II asks, a mix of concerned and surprised, eyebrows raising up to his hairline.

Vessel looks like a mess, beautiful even now, but a mess nonetheless. Exhaustion weighs heavy on his shoulders, purplish eyebags under his eyes and a frown trying to pull at one corner of his lips.

"Yes. Is... is that okay? Can we still go?" Vessel goes quieter, II only able to hear him due to the more advanced hearing they all have.

"Vessel, I only said we were going home out of concern for you. I didn't think you were feeling up to it." Frowning, II tries not to tap his fingers against his thigh anxiously.

"He says he wants to go, II. I think we should listen to him." III says, glancing between the two of them with slightly wide eyes.

II takes a moment to stare into Vessel's eyes, feeling fond when Vessel manages to keep the eye contact for a few seconds.

"You're sure, sweetheart?" II asks, blue eyes as soft as his words.

"I'm sure." Vessel states firmly, nodding his head.

"Alright, only because you said you want to. But if at any point you want to leave, we will, no questions asked."

Vessel smiles lopsidedly. Its hidden behind his hoodie, but his eyes crinkling at the edges is telling enough for II and III. "Mhm! Thank you..."

"You don't have to thank me, sweetheart." II remarks, leaning down to press a kiss on the visible sliver of Vessel's face, right over an eyelid.

"I want to, though. You didn't have to do this..."

II hmphs in amusement, dimple appearing with his smile, "Do what, Ves? Set up a date for my two beautiful boyfriends so I can see them all dressed up and hopefully, happy? It's no trouble and I'm more than glad to do this."

Vessel turns his head to try and hide, embarrassed, but it doesn't work very well. Remnants of tears are still drying on his cheeks as a comfortable silence seems to settle over them. III breaks in with a carefully controlled exclamation, "Oh, that reminds me, Ves, can I do your makeup!?"

Nervousness ripples at the edges of the bond as Vessel contemplates his answer, removing his hood. He takes a close look up at III, then over at II. They're both wearing makeup, he realizes with a start, face flushing at how ethereal they look. Mascara has made both II and III's eyes pop, the eyeliner bringing out the pretty blue of their eyes. Their respective piercings only add to the look, III's large, sharp wing suiting them well.

"I don't mind doing it myself. I used to wear a bit of makeup a long time ago." Vessel offers, not wanting to trouble III with it.

"You can do it yourself if you want to!" III reassures, shyly adding on, "I did want to do it for you though. If you don't want me touching you to apply it, I'd understand."

"No, I... You can do it. I want you to, if you want to."

With ease, II lifts Vessel up enough to put his head on II's lap instead, III immediately hopping up to go get their makeup bag. Excitement bounces along the bond, causing Vessel's nervous smile to widen into something more positive, more loving.

"Is it alright if I straddle you, Ves? I want a good angle to do your eyeliner." III asks when they return, waving a pillow in one hand while the other holds their makeup bag, "I kind of wanted to... uh-"

III fumbles, a little red in the face suddenly, "I would like to be close to you that way, while I do your makeup. I've thought about it... a lot more than I would like to admit. If that's too much for you right now, though, I understand."

Vessel's brain seems to stop operating all together, all at once. The thought of III atop him, straddling him, so close... their hair would fall to frame their face, pretty blue eyes staring down at Vessel... he wants that. The fact that III had thought about the scenario often...

Then he thinks of his nightmare, and the interest that had been growing is muddled immediately.

"If you want to, I don't mind." Vessel agrees, clearly nervous by the prospect of having III atop him but sitting up to move to the middle of the bed anyway.

II remains where he is, gentle gaze flicking between III and Vessel fondly. Vessel is almost apprehensive in his movements. He's undecided on whether to be nervous or eager.

Vessel takes the pillow as its offered, clutching it over his chest tightly as III crawls onto the bed. Carefully, III lowers themselves over Vessel's waist, thighs on either side of his hips. The long skirt he's wearing pools around them, fabric scrunching where their bodies meet. The sight leaves Vessel wanting... but-

His dream with Four is lingering heavily at the forefront of his mind, causing anxiety no matter how hard he tries to rid himself of it. Is he not allowed to have a moment of peace where he isn't afraid of his secrets becoming known?

"Mind if I hold your jaw? It would be easier for me. If not, that's okay, hun." III asks, trying his hardest not to let his own excitement overshadow Vessel's known insecurities and triggers.

"Go ahead. I... I trust you." Vessel responds, smiling into the kiss III leans down to smother him with.

Vessel tries to ignore the underlying arousal as III pulls away, but stays leaned over him to begin applying a bit of black eyeshadow, his hand so gentle where it's cupping his jaw. He doesn't want sex right now, but if the others want it, he will. He won't mind. They're always so gentle, it won't hurt. He trusts they won't hurt him, even if he wouldn't mind if they did. Vessel will take anything they offer, be it pain or affection.

Shaking his head lightly, Vessel tries to rid himself of the thought. II and III do not use him. They don't. They've- They make sure he feels good too. It isn't only take, they give as much as they get. As Vessel's mind wanders down that trail of thought, he wonders if they are simply kinder in their use of him. He doesn't mind the thought.

He is glad when II speaks, pulling Vessel's thoughts from beginning to spiral into anxiety over how his mind wars with itself over his past and present.

"No funny business. We've got places to be today. Wait until we get home." II orders, leaving no room for argument.

"Of course. I would never cause problems." III says, grinning widely under the scrutinizing, dry stare II tosses at them.

"You and I are his biggest problems." Vessel jokes, trying to appear as if he isn't closely watching for the others' reactions, as if he isn't more nervous to make a mistake than he has been in ages.

"He loves us though! Don't you, Doll? You'd be so bored without us to keep you on your toes." III agrees, so excited about the joke Vessel had attempted that they're nearly vibrating in place.

III squirms, trying to turn to see whatever expression II is making. The friction is delicious, Vessel squeezing the pillow to try and rid himself of the tension slowly building up his body. III is so beautiful above him, hair left loose except for a long braid behind one ear.

"I'd be absolutely miserable without you." II grins, and while its a wide thing showcasing human teeth, there's a soft, adoring edge to it, and Vessel is absolutely enamored by the view he's receiving.

III continues working, concentration furrowing his brow. Vessel closes his eyes when asked, opens them when asked, trusting III not to make him into some sort of clown. The right

III is heavy atop him, a welcome weight as Vessel's deep blush is met fondly. III's hands are steady as he draws a long, sharp wing, hot breath fanning over Vessel's face.

"Gonna make you prettier, beautiful. People are going to fall at your feet begging for a glance from your pretty eyes."

Vessel's turns more red, unable to escape or hide, unable to move for fear of messing up III's carefully applied work. His next words are mumbled, carefully enunciated so his face moves as little as possible, "Your praise is not helping."

"Oh, I can tell." III smirks, pausing to kiss the tip of Vessel's nose.

Large hands settle on III's hips when they shift to get a certain angle right. Vessel lets out a breathy little sound, caught in his throat from where he tries to stop it from escaping. Just to hear more, III grinds down again, receiving the same reaction only slightly more whiny. Vessel stifles the anxiety bubbling under the surface of his skin, desperate to please the others. If he's good, they won't leave him. Besides, it does feel good. It always feels good, if it's them.

"Boys." II's reprimand is sharp, causing both of them to freeze in place.

There's a pout on III's plush lips, a gentle hand moving to caress Vessel's cheek at the fear beginning to fester in the bond. Vessel swipes the fear away quickly, trying to keep the others from feeling anything negative from him. If III wants sex, Vessel will give it to him.

"No funny business." III recalls, voice mocking as he tries to emulate the timber of II's own voice.

"Good boy. I don't think we should be letting Ves do anything strenuous. He must be tired, remember?"

Vessel feels immediate relief, trying not to hide it but also feeling as if he should hide that specific emotion from them. He's been utterly exhausted since the ritual, minor aches still present in his chest. III's weight has strained his ribs, but Vessel has kept that well away from the bond. Has kept it from his own awareness intentionally. Seeing III like this above him is well worth the bits of aching pain that sometimes strikes through a rib or two when III shifts their weight.

"Ves, you should have told me to stop." III levels guilty eyes back on Vessel, who stares back just as guilty, both for differing reasons.

"Can't- I can't." Vessel admits, the words like ash on his tongue, forced out like pulling teeth. "You are not them and yet... I can't."

III looks crestfallen, tears beading at the corners of their eyes. Any bits of happiness that had been in their bonds have all been snuffed out. He sits up, beginning to pull his hand away and Vessel whines, desperately reaching his own hand up to hold III's hand on his cheek.

Vessel's ruined everything.

He wants to cry, to dig a blade into his skin anywhere he can reach to punish himself for fucking things up. He shouldn't have said anything, Vessel should have kept his mouth shut and let them do whatever they wanted to him despite his discomfort with the idea of sex right now. To think he hasn't even told them that he still hurts.

"My apologies." He mumbles, hesitantly reaching out to take III's now unoccupied hands. "I did not mean to make you cry."

III is still warm and heavy above him, both of them half-hard. III lifts one of Vessel's hands up to kiss his knuckles delicately, reverently. Each one is worshipped before III moves on to Vessel's fingertips.

Spreading his fingers out, Vessel dares to reach a little further up and splay his hand across III's cheek. III's sigh, whether of sadness or contentment, sends shivers down Vessel's spine as it spills over his cold skin.

"Its okay, Ves." III murmurs in response, II shuffling closer, his knee grazing against III's thigh.

"I know we've said this before, but you can say no. Neither of us will be upset with you for not wanting sex. It's not a requirement in our relationship, just a bonus, okay?" III needs to stop being so gentle with Vessel, he loves and loathes it.

In lieu of answering, eager to move past this, Vessel turns his head and bites onto III's hand, moving it closer for his teeth to reach. Human teeth do not leave more than faint red marks on III's flesh, but he receives the reaction he wanted anyway. III's smiles, smaller than Vessel had hoped for.

"We'll get through to you on it eventually, but I'll accept your attempts at ending that particular line of conversation, for now." II huffs, not quite amused, not quite annoyed.

Vessel is a little apprehensive, releasing III's palm from between his teeth. Is II upset with him?

"Bite me next, sweetheart?" II asks, taking joy in the way Vessel's nervous expression shifts into something brighter, a spark coming back to his eyes.

"Where?" He whispers, the hand cupping III's cheek falling to rest against a thigh, holding onto the other man as if he'll disappear if Vessel doesn't keep him within reach.

Offering up his arm, biceps on full display due to the tank top II is wearing, II points at the meat of his bicep, almost on the underside, "How about right here, once III is finished with you?"

II then grins mischeviously, a smile Vessel feels he picked up from III, "I'll take a kiss right now, though, if you're up to it."

Vessel sits up as best as he can, one hand making grabby motions without care for how his shoulder twinges in protest. III starts to get off of him, but the hand on his thigh splays out and grips, meaning to keep III in place. Vessel nips gently at II's lower lip, relishing in the warm hand II slips into his hair. The kiss is slow and languid, II taking his time tasting Vessel just the same as Vessel himself is doing. There is no rush, no frenzy of passion, only worship through colliding lips.

"My turn, my turn!" III exclaims childishly, taking great pleasure in the mockingly aggrieved look II sends their way as he and Vessel reluctantly part.

Vessel's little grin is contagious, II stealing it with one last peck. II turns his head, reaching out to pull III into a kiss before the other can process what's happening. II is more rough with III, but no less loving, tongue swiping over III's lower lip in search of entrance into their mouth.

Vessel watches, fascinated, at how differently II handles him and III while never losing that adoring tenderness. He flexes his hand, still holding III's thigh, and slowly trails it down to rest easily on their knee. III is still straddling them, just as Vessel wanted, remaining close just as Vessel wanted. Though clothes limit their touch, he relishes in the warmth seeping through to his skin.

Vessel wants to hold them, wrap his arms around them, be so close that they all meld into one being. Instead, he watches their dance of tongues and yearns for something he cannot give himself or them.

II gently pulls III's head back by his hair, forcing them to part. "Enough now, pretty. Give Ves a kiss and then we'll finish up. It's almost time for us to leave."

III lets out a sound between a whine and a sigh, pretty blue eyes falling to meet Vessel's own. II doesn't release their hair, and III glances down at Vessel in confusion.

"So you don't get ahead of yourself, Three, I'll be keeping my hand right here. I won't pull hard enought to hurt at any point. Is that alright?" II asks, always seeking to keep them comfortable.

"Mm. That's fine, Doll." III nods, not minding how the action tugs at his scalp.

Slowly, II pushes III down until he and Vessel are nearly face to face, noses a hairs breadth apart. Then, II makes III wait, and in doing so, makes Vessel wait. For a moment, no one says or does anything, the tension slowly building between all three of them. Finally, II pushes III's head forward and he eagerly takes Vessel's lips with their own. Their hand finds Vessel's, clasping their fingers together. Ever eager, III immediately tries to devour Vessel, all hot tongue and claiming lips.

Before III can get really into it, II is pulling them back by the hair, ordering, "Take your time with him. Savor what Ves is gifting us."

Whining, III nods, desperate to put his mouth back on Vessel's. Hungry blue eyes take in the human dilation of Vessel's pupils, the faint flush spreading to the tips of his rounded ears. Dark hair is messy, curling at the edges from sleep, with still wet lashes from when he had been crying earlier.

"Please, sir, I'll be good. I'll be so good, just- let me taste him-" III shivers, not missing the way arousal suddenly surges through the shared bond.

The hand in III's hair tightens its grip marginally, and then II is releasing him entirely.

It surprises III enough that he doesn't move an inch for a few long seconds, but he gets over it quickly, slotting their lips back with Vessel's as though it's the last time he'll be given the chance.

III is slower this time, more careful, a languid swipe of his tongue against Vessel's bottom lip, a gentle nip to pull on bitten, chapped flesh. Kissing Vessel can be a little challenging with the others' penchant for grinning widely or smiling sweetly into them, but III wouldn't have it any other way. It's such an endearing thing to do and III loves him so much...

"Enough now." II orders, breathing labored as he pulls III away from Vessel, "If we don't stop now, I won't be letting Three out of the bed for a long time yet."

"That was fucking hot. I'm so turned on right now." III mumbles, eyes wide and dazed as their hand squeezes Vessel's own.

"I may have allowed you to get yourself off but I told you no funny business and you didn't listen." II mocks, smugly licking his lips to gather the faint taste of his lovers, "And you even dragged poor Ves into it. I know he's irresistible but I told you no."

"Aw, that's no fair." III pouts, perfectly aware that he disobeyed an order. "If you were in my position, you'd be struggling, too."

"Now you know that's not true, my love. I have impeccable restraint." II hasn't lost even an ounce of that smugness, knocking his shoulder into III's arm gently.

"Didn't show a lot of restraint when we finally had Ves moanin' for us." III smiles again, widely with teeth, baring them in challenge.

II looks away deliberately, a blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck. III's grin grows impossibly wider, victorious.

"Finish up here, Three. No kisses for two days." II states, leaning over to give Vessel a quick peck on the lips before getting off the bed entirely.

III gasps, one hand splayed over their chest. For a moment, Vessel thinks III is seriously upset, but the pleased little glimmer of emotion in the bond shows otherwise. Vessel doesn't understand it, but III seems to enjoy the punishments given.

So he works up the courage to ask.

Once II has wandered off to change clothes, Vessel brings it up while III fixes a smudged bit of under eye makeup on Vessel.

"Why do you not mind the punishments you receive? He does not hurt you, but I still don't- understand?" Vessel hopes he worded it alright, trying to keep himself from tilting his head naturally to the side with his confusion.

III's smile turns muted, small, dull. It doesn't suit him, it makes their face dim, like the light of the sun has gone out. Vessel hates that he put it there by asking such a stupid question-

"I trust him." III responds quietly, gently dabbing the tip of the eyeliner brush at the inner corner of one of Vessel's eyes.

It's a struggle to keep from flinching away with every touch, but Vessel manages. He stares resolutely at the beauty mark beside III's eye instead of attempting to hold eye contact with III while they work.

"Two has always made everything very clear to me. He has never hurt me, always listened to what I've said. I do not feel ignored or like my wants don't matter. The punishments I receive are small, mildy annoying things at worst, and at best, simple tasks or minor things withheld. II... he makes me feel safe, and loved, and I trust him with my body and needs."

"I don't remember the whole experience well, but I used to not be allowed to eat dinner if I made a mistake or was too loud back at the adoption home I was placed in. I preferred being forced to be absolutely silent over not being able to eat. "

Vessel's face twists into a pained grimace, devastated over the life III must have led before Sleep. III's face twists into further concentration, struggling to remember. The memories are neither good nor bad, a grey area that makes them easier to recall with single minded focus, with enough effort.

"The only dom I ever had was nice at first, but strict. A lot like II, perhaps, not as fun. Didn't love me like he does, either, but I wasn't in it for the romance, with him. He was more inclined to refusing basic needs when I was too bratty, always thought I talked too much, too. Reminded me the most of my childhood compared to any other flings I had."

Vessel plots murder in his mind, protective, possessive rage fizzling under his skin. III soothes it with a gentle pat against Vessel's cheek, the tender touch smoothing out the rough edges into something more manageable. Vessel has time and a means of killing that asshole off, if III will allow it. "No murder. I vaguely remember he got his shit together after a different brat kicked his ass for trying to pull the same shit."

Vessel visibly wilts, but agrees quietly.

"I appreciate the intent though, my love."

III continues, brushing a bit of highlighter over Vessel's cheekbones even if it potentially won't be seen, "I think I was in a lot of online forums before Sleep? I have vague recollections of talking to other queer people and figuring out labels I never would have learned on my own in my shitty, backwards town. The elderly woman at the thrift store was the first person to accept me, for me, after I figured out who I was and wanted to be. It's.... it's hard to remember much of my time with her because it was some of my happiest moments and Sleep took so much from me."

"I know I just continued to ramble after answering your question, I'm sorry. If you want me to be quiet, I will."

"No. I want to hear you, the sound of your voice, your laugh... your moans. I want to hear all of it for as long as you'll allow me the pleasure." Vessel says, no more than a whisper.

III leans back, a blush flaming across his face, closing his makeup bag and taking in his work. Sharp, black eyeliner juts out from Vessel's eyes, the style matching his eye shape. Inner corner points are mostly even, and mascara used to further darken Vessel's already dark eyelashes.

"You look so fucking ethereal, Sugar. Thank you for letting me do your makeup. Wanna kiss you so bad." III juts their lower lip out, continuing to pout as they had earlier.

Its an endearing expression, with his wide, pretty blue eyes and his beauty marks. "You reckon he'll extend the time for no kissing or not let me cum for a week?"

"I'd keep quiet if I were you, sweetheart, you're giving me ideas." II sings from the other side of the room, slipping a black tank top on, having been listening the whole time.

III laughs, leaning down to nuzzle his nose into Vessel's cheek in place of a kiss before climbing off him. Vessel misses the weight immediately, even if his sore ribs immediately feel relief. Vessel follows III up, discarding the pillow to the side and reaching out to take III's hand. "You didn't deserve anything that happened to you." Vessel states, feeling a little strange for reiterating what they seem to tell Vessel himself so often.

"That's why I left the adoption home when I was of age and why I dumped that piece of shit dom I had. I realized how much of a dickwad he really was, and left him. I didn't deserve any of it, even if sometimes, somewhere in my heart where faint memories linger, I feel like I did."

Vessel longs for his mask, in that moment. To hide behind the solid material, to keep III from seeing how some twisted sense of realization seems to physically slam into Vessel, stealing his unneeded breath.

"Ves?" III asks softly, cupping his jaw with a tenderness Vessel doesn't deserve.

Or... does he? Does he deserve to have good things, does he deserve the other vessels? Did he deserve everything that led him to Sleep?

Did he?

In this moment, about to go on a date with his lovers who mean more than the world to him, Vessel doesn't want to think about it... but-

"I'm fine, Three. I'm going to get dressed, thank you for doing my makeup. You look beautiful." Vessel says while stepping away from the hand on his cheek, and though he means it, its a clear attempt at exiting the conversation.

III watches as Vessel goes to dig around in his duffel bag, sharing a weighted glance with II. The other man shakes his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. III understands. They'll leave it be, for now. Someday, Vessel will realize he didn't deserve a fucking thing that has happened to him, Before Sleep, or After. It is not an easy realization for someone who has been hurt so severely.

They all finish getting ready quickly. Vessel finishes tucking in his billowing black shirt into the waistband of his skinny jeans, and while he does so, he takes note of what the other two are wearing. III's long skirt, loose with ruffles at the hem, is a pastel blue to match their hair. A black shirt with bell-like sleeves, one of Vessel's, is hanging off their less broad frame, with black socks and their sneakers. II has on a form fitting tank top, tucked into a pair of black cargo pants. His silver necklace is the only accessory other than his piercings, unlike III who has a choker around their neck to offset their own piercings. III takes a few minutes to braid bits of Vessel's hair, and then up into his usual half up, half down style. The braids match III's, a detail that doesn't escape Vessel's notice. It makes him surprisingly happy to see that they match.

Just as Vessel thinks they're going to leave, II stops them at the door. "Forget something, pretty?" II croons, very slowly caging Vessel against the door.

He makes sure to give Vessel ample time to move aside or ask him to stop. Vessel grows nervous at the attention, at the position, biting his lip even as he eyes up the thick bicep's caging him in.

"Oh~ We almost forgot II's request!" III smirks, leaning his elbow flat on II's head.

It ruins the sensual approach II was going for, and II glares lightly up at them.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Doll. You were making him nervous! Coming at him with those delicious muscles on full display."

II glances back at Vessel, intending to see for himself. He finds Vessel staring at his biceps, eyes wide. There are hints of arousal in the bond from all three of them, though II knows Vessel likely doesn't want to do anything about it.

"Gonna bite me, sweetheart?" II says, leaning in closer, smile turning playful as III lifts their weight from his head. "I do so love your teeth on me."

Vessel's taller frame slowly moves closer, leaning down into II's personal space. Nervously, he places his mouth over the curve of a muscle, grazing his teeth along the skin. II shudders, leaning closer, his hair tickling Vessel's jaw and ear. The height difference is clear, like this, II so small beneath him even though the shorter man is the one caging him in.

It... does something to Vessel, to see II like this.

He opens his mouth, and sinks his teeth in to the meat of II's bicep. II moans, a shiver wracking through his whole body.

For a brief moment, Vessel has the strangest thought of reversing their positions. It's banished before it can fully form. Vessel would never dare. II wouldn't want it, and Vessel would never dare.

"Christ on a bike." III mumbles, finding themselves weak in the knees.

II chokes out a laugh, startled. "Where in the fuck did you hear that- Shit."

As II is speaking, Vessel releases his arm from between his teeth and moves up towards his shoulder, biting in deeper there. Not hard enough to break skin, but the indents will last a few minutes at least. Perhaps it will bruise, and Vessel can look at it longingly until it fades, can revel in guilty satisfaction at what II has allowed (asked) him to do.

Vessel pulls away, fearing for his secrets safety, realizing just how close he and II have become. Boldly, he presses a kiss onto II's forefead, face heating with a blush at the desire filled look in II's eyes.

There's something else, too. Surprise, adoration. Vessel had just kissed him first, after all. Even if it was only on the forehead. II could count on half a hand the amount of times that has happened, and basks in how happy it makes him.

II lets Vessel loose from the cage of his arms, rubbing a hand over his face with a disgruntled huff, "Okay, we need to go. I won't be able to stand a minute more of you both looking this pretty while we have some semblance of privacy."

Vessel can feel his face grow warmer, pale skin going pink as a lopsided smile tries to make an appearance. Without any more preamble, Vessel reaches back and twists the doorknob to their hotel room. II lets him escape without a fuss, running reverent fingers over the stinging bite marks then following behind III after making sure he has his wallet and room key.

Nick is leaning against Vessel's car when they leave the hotel, nearly to the butt end of his cigarette. He offers one to II as he shoves off the car, but II politely declines.

III makes note of the longing in the bond with distaste, trying to keep II from feeling it. They really hope II keeps to his promise.

"Well, aren't you a fancy bunch. Sure I can't tag along?" Nick's voice is warm, kind, smiling around his cigarette even as he eyes the bruising bite stark against the pale skin of II's bicep.

Vessel stiffens, moving to hide a bit behind III to avoid Nick even seeing him, or him from seeing Nick. He really doesn't want Nick to go with them.

"Maybe some other time, I'm sorry. If this weren't a date, I'd be all for you coming along." II apologizes, smile bordering on kind, and Vessel isn't surprised that the emotions the others feel towards Nick are genuine.

They're friends with him, somewhat, it's only Vessel who has a problem.

"It's almost noon, Two." III points out, and II is quick to give their farewells.

Nick says something about maybe going off to explore, or maybe just sticking around the hotel room but Vessel doesn't care to listen keenly, eager to leave the other man behind. Hiding in the car, Vessel fiddles with his phone as the others give farewell pleasantries. The message from Terzo stares back at him, left on Read.

As he's thinking over a reply, II and III get in the car. III immediately starts fiddling with the radio, digging through Vessel's cd collection. The Poison by Bullet For My Valentine is III's pick, and Vessel finds it in himself to smile a little wider at the choice, turning his attention back down to his phone.

How did Terzo know? How? Did Omega find out and tell him? Did they tell II and III? No. No, they couldn't have. There is no way that the others would still be here with him, treating him so kindly, loving him, if they knew he had no heart.

Vessel deletes the message from Terzo about his heart, electing to answer the first part.

(Terzo Emeritus)

Vessel: Thank you, and Omega, for helping me yesterday. I appreciate the kindness you have shown. It was a pleasure meeting you, and if I have any questions, I will ask as you have offered.

Pleased with his formal writing, Vessel sends the message and sets his phone down when II begins to drive. He doesn't mind being in the backseat as much, now that Nick isn't with them. III keeps engaging him in conversation, not minding when Vessel answers quietly, or merely nods or shakes his head to show he's listening.

The bond is buzzing with Vessel's excitement, the anxiety warring with the positive emotion for control. It leaves Vessel feeling a little ill by the time they park, seeking out one of the others hands for comfort. The aquarium is a large building, grey in color with spots of ocean-themed murals along the more expansive sections.

II pulls him closer as III takes Vessel's other hand, paying for the tickets. Inside is a throng of people all gathered around the gift shop and some of the smaller exhibits and directory signs. II hands over a black surgical face mask from one of his many pockets, and when III asks when he found the time to ask for one of those, II shrugs, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the ticketbooth. Vessel slips it on, making sure his earrings and hair aren't caught beneath the strings, and immediately feels more secure. He'd felt exposed without his mask, and this has helped.

All three of them take a moment to briefly look around, and then Vessel gasps softly, pulling the other two forward toward one of the directory signs. He lifts II's hand up with his own to point out one of the exhibits.

"A jellyfish exhibit!" He exclaims, blue eyes gray in the lighting, like a sea overshadowed by a gathering storm.

"Do you want to head there first, then?" II smiles, taking in how lively Vessel is already, and they've only just arrived.

"Can we?" Vessel turns wide, bright eyes onto II, grinning beneath his face mask.

Though his smile itself is hidden from them, it still crinkles the edges of Vessel's human eyes. He looks absolutely ethereal with his sharp black eyeliner with the bit of blue glitter II has put at the inner corners to highlight the little wings there, too. His hair is pulled back into its usual style, now with two little braids in front of his pierced ears. Framing pieces of hair had been left out, and he's utterly adorable. II and III are absolutely enamored.

The jellyfish exhibit is a large room, with a wall of glass on one side. Behind the glass are yellow-orange jellyfish, sea nettles if Vessel remembers correctly. They're large, floating about inside their huge tank. Smaller tanks are strewn about the room, with different types of jellyfish in each. Vessel knows some jellyfish eat other species of themselves, so it makes sense. Murals take up the expanse of the other walls, of jellyfish in the ocean and silly cartoon sea creatures. In the middle of the room sits a floor to ceiling cylinder of water filled with moon jellies, all leisurely swimming as people ogle them and their beauty.

Vessel opens his mouth to gush about the moon jellies as he drags II and III closer by the hand, but shuts it as he seems to wilt. He knows they don't mind too much if he rambles, but... the fear that they will grow annoyed with him remains ever present.

"Hey Ves, what kind of jellyfish is this?" III asks, grinning when Vessel visibly perks up.

As Vessel moves to speak, II mouths, "Good job."

"They're moon jellies! They can make themselves about half their size if there isn't enough food around, and will grow back to regular size when more food is available! They're primarily preyed upon by sea turtles-!"

II and III listen fondly as Vessel continues to ramble out facts about jellyfish, not just the moon jellies. He drifts over to the sea nettles, explaining how depending on their home region, can be minorly or severely dangerous based on someone's sensitivity to their sting. 

Eventually, they finish in the jellyfish exhibit room after no small amount of time. Vessel had gone on and on about each type in all of their respective tanks, enjoying himself to an extent the other vessels aren't sure they've ever seen. It makes them feel so... in love. And proud. Proud of how far he's come.

"Hey, Two, Ves, want a picture?" III asks, holding up their phone as they're all just looking up at the glass wall separating them from the jellyfish, right before they leave. 

"Up for a picture, sweetheart?" II looks up to Vessel, and when he receives a quiet affirmation, II pulls them over to a less crowded spot while III follows, readying his phone camera.

Vessel stands awkwardly, not sure what to do, as II moves them both into position, facing each other.

"Okay, in three, two, one-!"

II reaches up on his toes, pulling Vessel's face mask down and kissing him, cupping his jaw on either side so gently it brings tears to Vessel's eyes. II fixes Vessel's mask after he pulls away, settling back down onto his feet properly.

III comes over to show them the picture, pouting about not getting a candid photo of kiss too. II grumbles in good fun, leaning over to kindly ask a young goth couple to take a photo of them. 

Breaking the rule he'd set, II kisses III the same way, the girlfriends taking the photo hooting and hollering. 

"One more photo." II calls, pulling Vessel to their sides, "Alright, now pose."

Knowing he must look a fool, Vessel simply smiles, doing a little peace sign. III strikes some full body pose from II's other side, while II merely leans his head on Vessel's arm, hands clasped together. The girls give III his phone back, commenting on how cute they all are and then walking off, hand in hand. III shows them the photo and then sends all of them to the group chat. Vessel sets the one with II as his lock screen, and after a bit more tapping, the group one as his homescreen. After that, they move on through the penguin enclosure, where Vessel tries not to frown too harshly. Downtrodden, he asks to go to a different area pretty quickly.

Vessel had been excited, at first. He still is, to an extent. Happy that II and III brought him, had thought of him to such an extent, but...

He can't help but think back to how listless the penguins had looked, in their boring enclosure with nothing to look at but gray walls and ice, and the relentless calls and noises from humans staring at them through the glass separating them. Vessel may not know what it's like to have a home (he won't admit the truth to himself. He can't- He's afraid-), but he can sympathize with the pain of being taken from it. The only place Vessel had felt at home in, Before, was down in the ocean, sinking with the weight of stones in his pockets as his lungs screamed for air and his body fought his heart to swim back to the surface. He'd worn his heaviest clothes and boots, knowing it would only help him achieve his goal. Fish had swam by, a small coral reef leaving scrapes and cuts when he'd hit it after finally sinking deep enough. The light of the moon had been bright, then, and utterly beautiful. His body still struggled, but his heart, his mind, had finally, finally felt peace.

They move on to the shark exhibit at III's insistence, trying to lighten the suddenly somber mood that has befallen Vessel. The First perks up, having a love of sharks, but the sight of one of the grey reef sharks swimming with a bit of difficulty alongside some seabass, ruined III's good intentions.

"What's wrong sweetheart, why are you sad?" II questions, pulling Vessel in close, arms brushing against each other.

"They were all taken from their homes. All the creatures we saw today." Vessel frowns, eyes a little misty, "The sign says that this shark was hurt so they brought it here for recovery, but... the scar looks like it was from something man-made. We did this to it, took it from its home after we hurt it."

"We didn't do this to it, honey. I know someone else did, and I despise that we as a species are so prone to cruelty, but they're trying to heal it, here. Look, this other sign says they'll release it once it's healthy enough. It'll go back home soon enough."

Nodding, Vessel squeezes II's hand, seeking comfort without wanting to ask for it. "Next time we'll go to a sanctuary!" III breaks right out with it, desperate to bring some semblance of that joy back to the bond.

"There might be one near home." II adds, nodding, "They treat their animals better, usually, and are more likely to actually release them when they're healed up."

"You would do that for me?" Vessel whispers, surprised like the first time, like every time they show him an ounce of consideration.

"I would do anything for you." II replies firmly, pressing a soft, adoring kiss to Vessel's temple.

Vessel doesn't realize the truth in that statement. II isn't sure he ever will, but that's alright.

"If you decided one day that the sun was too bright or something, I'd find a way to take it out of the sky." III chimes in, completely serious.

Vessel gapes, "That would have severe environmental effects-"

"It's the sentiment, Sugar. If you asked me to do something impossible, I'd find a way, no matter what, for you. Because you mean that much to me, to us." III grins so widely their cheeks surely must hurt from the strain.

Vessel grins, eyes wet, nodding in lieu of a verbal answer. He's overwhelmed by the love they're showing him, by that tender emotion flowing so gently down the bond.

"Can we head to the giftshop next? We passed it on the way in and there was something I wanted to check out." III says, bouncing on the balls of their feet.

There's an excited gleam in his eyes, uncontainable.

"Shouldn't we wait until we're about to leave?" II counters, a little confused.

"There's a plushie I want to get Ves and I really want to get it now before all of these little kids buy out their entire stock." III says, entirely serious, then brings out the wide eyes and simpering expression to beg, "Please?"

"Oh, fine. We'll backtrack if its fine with Ves." II rolls his eyes good naturedly, turning to look up at Vessel for his decision.

Vessel nods, not really minding either way. He's content to follow the others around, even though they have been following him around. Rubbing an eye, Vessel struggles to stifle his yawn. He's still utterly exhausted from yesterday, the ache in his ribs growing worse as the day wears on. "Do you want to take a break first, honey?" II asks, ever the caretaker.

"No. I'm fine, promise."

II acquiesces, and they continue on. They make their way back to the front area of the aquarium, holding hands the entire way. Any rude look receives a fierce glare from II, the shortest of them shooting daggers into any bigoted asshole that wants to be shitty. They're holding hands, not fucking on the aquarium floor. The giftshop is larger than some of the exhibit rooms, dedicated to many different kinds of merch, ranging from t-shirts, to mugs and keychains, to plushies and child-friendly scientific kits or home aquariums.

"Do you have a preference for a plushie, Ves? You don't have to pick the one I have in mind." III says, suddenly nervous, picking at his nail polish.

"Pick whatever you want. My plague doctor was a gift from II. It is... nice, to be thought of. To have a gift chosen for me."

III lights up, the sun returned to his eyes, bounding off with a promise to return thrown over their shoulder. II stays close, keeping a tight hold of Vessel's hand as he leads him through the store. Vessel tries to keep track of III, anxious for him to be so far away. Rows of plushies are lined up against a back wall, the opposite direction of III who is currently staring down a child who wants one of the plushies somewhere up front. Vessel watches as II scans over the rows with a discerning eye, taking great care in reaching out and feeling the materials of each plushie to see how the texture feels between his fingers.

"Here, Ves, how about this one?" II says, finally, picking out a jellyfish plushie.

It's about the length of Vessel's arm, white in color with two black dots for eyes and a line for a smiley face. Hanging from off of its bottom is the jellyfish arms, a mix of white ribbon and a scrunchy pastel blue material that springs back up when Vessel tentatively stretches out one of the tentacles. It makes him smile, amusement zinging down the bond.

"I take that as a yes, then." II says, longing to hug Vessel or kiss him senseless.

"Guys! Guys! I beat this kid in rock paper scissors, four to five, and got the last one!" III exclaims loudly, excitedly bouncing up beside them with a decently sized shark in hand, triumphant.

Vessel barely flinches, feeling much better than when he woke up. He turns his attention to the shark. It's... comical in expression. With big, beady black eyes, a grey and white body, its mouth is what sets it apart from a typical shark plushie. Its mouth is a half moon shape, lined with sewn in pointed, but blunt, teeth. Its a very round shape, with a floppy dorsal fin, and one of the pectoral fins is misshapen. The caudal fin looks to be about the right shape, but no less floppy than the dorsal.

"It's a little... off looking." III's smile turns sheepish, "But it was the last one and I wasn't about to lose rock, paper, scissors to a ten year old that I challenged."

"You challenged a ten year old to rock, paper, scissors?" II raises an eyebrow, amused.

"And almost lost?" Vessel whispers, taking the shark from III.

"I'll have you know I won in the end, and that's what matters. Besides, that's not the point here. The point is that I got the plushie I wanted to get Vessel! Even if its misshapen." III pouts, tucking a stray strand of hair behind their ear.

"Such a pouty boy today." II gets up on his tiptoes to whisper in Vessel's ear, smile fond but cheeky.

It sends shivers down Vessel's spine, warm breath hot against his cool skin.

"I like the shark." Vessel decides, as III moves to ruffle II's hair out of spite.

"What are you going to name them?"

"Name them?" Vessel tilts his head, puzzled.

"Yeah! You should name them! It's like breathing new life into them, like when we chose our names." III drops their voice down to a little louder than a whisper.

Oh.

Vessel thinks he understands.

"Think on it, Ves. You don't have to name them right now, or today. Whatever you think of will be a good choice because they're yours now." II says, reaching up to cup Vessel's cheek over the face mask.

Nodding, Vessel follows the others towards the front of the shop to pay, struggling to ignore the crying child throwing a tantrum over wanting too many items for the family to pay for. The noise is loud, almost overwhelming, and it causes Vessel's anxiety to spike.

He holds the plushies close, seeking comfort in them while they wait in line to pay. As he's looking around, rubbing a thumb over III's knuckles, something catches his eye on a stand nearby. Vessel glances up at III who is messing around on their phone, and II who is watching him already. II makes a shooing motion, taking the plushies from Vessel, and slowly, he drags III with him to look at what caught his attention.

It's a projector that puts moving underwater images on a wall. Deliberating, but guilty, Vessel weighs his options. He knows the others would just tell him to get it, simply because he wants it. And he does want it. They don't destroy his things either, so it likely won't get broken that way.

He turns to III, holding up the box with one hand wordlessly.

"That's going to look so fucking cool in your room, pretty."

Vessel grins, kissing III's knuckles through his face mask as they go back to where II has moved a bit further up in line. "I'll help you set that up at home if you need me to, Ves. It'll look really nice with your blackout curtains to block out light."

Vessel presses up close to II, keeping hold of III's hand. The line moves slow, but not overtly so. The harried cashier is tired but kind, struggling to man the cash register by himself. II pays, uncaring of the price, though Vessel blanches at the absurdity of it. III reassures him that money doesn't matter today, and Vessel really does try his best to not think of it. 

As they find the nearby directory, Vessel is lost in thought. He thinks he has names picked out, but will the others approve?

"Um, how about Mr. Nibbles? For my shark, and Jello for my jellyfish?" Vessel asks, gently putting Mr. Nibbles in the bag with his new projector. 

He makes sure to pat his head goodbye before II takes the bag from him.

"Those are great names!" III exclaims, II agreeing, more subdued, but no less enthusiastic.

Vessel lights up at II's approval, holding a hand out in hopes II will take it.

He does, clasping their fingers together and bringing their hands up to kiss Vessel's ringed knuckles. Vessel blushes up to his ears, a pretty flush to his cheeks that hasn't seemed to leave the entire time they've been on their date. He really is so happy to be here, despite noticing some less than savory things about the place. Hiding his face in the plush fabric of Jello's cap, Vessel attempts to force the blush from his cheeks. 

"Two, Two, he can't keep getting away with this. He's so cute." There are honest to Sleep tears in Three's eyes as they tug at a beltloop on II's pants.

"And I'm not even allowed to kiss him." III moans out in utter agony, dramatically holding their head in their hands.

"You can kiss him all you want in a couple days, brat. Now, how about we check out the bioluminescent fish exhibits?"

"Can we go back to see the sharks again? I... saw something for a touch pool." Vessel asks, quiet and expecting rejection, quickly trying to correct himself, "We don't have to. We already went so-"

"That's fine. I wanted to take a look at the touch pools too. I chose the aquarium with you in mind, we can do whatever you want to do." II assures, eyes going between the directory and up at Vessel tenderly.

"Alright. If you're sure." Vessel's smile is weak, uncertain, but II takes comfort in the hints of excitement still in the bond.

II takes the lead again, holding Vessel's hand while he holds III's. They might look a little silly: Three grown men linking hands at an aquarium, armed with bags of merchandise. II doesn't spare a single fuck for fools who think they're acting immature or being too public in their affections.

The shark exhibit room is busier than the last time they were there, II's shorter frame helping him navigate through the throngs of people and pulling the other two with him. The touch pool area is thankfully less crowded, with only a few families and their children around.  All three of them lean over into the touch pool area, II setting down their stuff by their feet. III immediately seeks out a cow nose ray, petting over it's brown back gently. II finds a starfish close to the wall of the touch pool, fascinated by how textured their spines feel as another cow nose ray drifts close. 

Vessel is a little more hesitant, gradually sinking his hand down into the water. There's a bamboo shark nearby, tentatively swimming closer. It brushes up against the back of Vessel's hand curiously, then swims away. It comes back quickly enough, nibbling at Vessel's fingers gently, making him laugh quietly. Vessel thinks this is the best part of the day so far, unable to contain the elation flowing smoothly through his veins, thick like honey.

A child splashes the water, her parents pulling her back with exasperated reprimands, familiar on their tongues, as the manta rays scatter. Vessel loses track of time as he pets the sea creatures, gently picking up a starfish to look over before setting it back down. II and III eventually drift away to look over a wayfinding sign, pointing out exhibits they could look at next. They talk back and forth, debating over which of the few are left to go to since they've visited most of the exhibits  already. Vessel stays nearby, seated now on the concrete lip as one arm remains in the water, the other holding Jello. Gentle fingers brush over a bamboo shark pup, eyes wide in wonder as the beautiful creature keeps circling back around for Vessel to pet again. II keeps a careful eye on Vessel, afraid to lose sight him in the growing crowd.

Slowly, more and more of the pups come up to Vessel's hand as he struggles to pet them all and hold his plushie still, a wide smile pulling at his lips. III takes a quick photo before turning back to the conversation they're having with II, undecided on the aviary or the seahorse exhibits.

Around Vessel, children of all ages pet the epaulette sharks and manta rays, laughter and conversations between families quickly becoming overwhelming. It's beginning to make his skin crawl, every little noise causing him to flinch or grimace. Looking around, Vessel stands, shaking his hand off then wiping it on his pants. His sleeve is let back down as he looks around, hoping to find somewhere a little quieter that won't be too far from the others. There are more people around II and III, parents with their unruly children looking over the wayfinder sign, too, and Vessel doesn't feel like going near all of those people. The others would hold his hand if he asked but all of the noise and people would cancel out the comfort.

Another glance around and a sign catches Vessel's eye, as well as the deep blue tunnel under it. It's a water tunnel that apparently leads off to a large room of similar purpose. Already Vessel can see schools of fish swimming past the glass in front of a lone couple in the tunnel, and intrigued, Vessel makes to move that direction before pausing, looking back towards his lovers unsurely.

He adjusts his grip on his plushie, holding Jello closer, running gentle fingers up and down the length of one of her scrunchy blue arms, taking comfort in the action. A child starts screaming, high-pitched and grating, throwing a tantrum over something or other, and Vessel flinches, hunching into himself. He takes a glance at II and III again, finding them thoroughly distracted. 

Vessel stands, and heads in the direction of the water tunnels. He'll only go a few feet in, linger at its entrance so he's within sight. And he does, Vessel stays near the opening, crouched at the glass separating him from kelp and little fish swimming about in their schools. Vessel stands, moving a bit further in to get a better look at some of the larger fish, human eyes struggling in the lighting. 

Vessel is entranced. Beautiful blue waters surround him on all sides, fish of various types swimming in their own respective schools. A hammerhead shark swims leisurely by, Vessel losing sight of it as it goes behind a large structure meant to resemble a corral reef. The lights in the room are meant to look like the audience is underwater, and blue eyes absorb everything around him he can as he slowly spins in a circle.

His soul had died it's true death the day Vessel tried to drown himself in the ocean. He knew a piece of him stayed down under those deep, dark waters. Here, surrounded by fish and stalks of seaweed, the distinct sound of being underwater playing through the speakers, Vessel feels like he finally came home.

He holds his new plushies close, standing smack dab in the middle of the room. No one is around, only him and the blissful calm of the sea as company. He gets a bit lost in it, unaware of the passing of time as he watches the fish swim by.

Unbeknownst to him, Vessel's bond goes distant, fading into the void like his mind.

The peace is shattered by the sound of his name, a desperate call. Vessel blinks, dazed, as his mind is forced to focus.

"Vessel!" The shout reaches Vessel's ears again, and he realizes II is calling for him.

His phone rings incessantly in his pocket, and he reaches to answer it urgently. As he does so, he notices multiple missed calls. How hadn't he heard them?

"Three?" Vessel inquires, a little confused as his head tries to focus on the present.

"Vessel, where are you?!" III's voice over the phone is frantic, laced heavily with emotion as though they are on the verge of tears.

That thought leads Vessel to realizing his face is wet, and there is a tugging on the bond every second or so, trying to get his attention. He pulls taut on it, a means of leading the others to him.

"I followed the signs for um, an underwater room? I'm not sure. It was through some ocean tunnels." Vessel tries to explain, but his voice is frail, as weak as he suddenly feels.

Slipping off his face mask, Vessel tries to wipe away his tears. His hand comes away glistening, wet with the tears he didn't even know he was crying.

"Okay. Okay, II and I are on our way. Stay there, okay, Sugar? Stay there. We'll be right there." III's voice sounds wrecked, and his words feel more to reassure himself than Vessel.

Vessel doesn't need reassuring. He's fine. He is.

He makes his way to the glass separating him from the tranquil waters, placing a hand on the glass, listening to III whisper loudly to II on the other end of the line.

Staring into the glass this close, vision filled with beautiful blue water and little guppies pecking at his fingers through the glass, Vessel feels himself slipping away again. It's quiet here, the only sound are the waves through speakers, static interrupting the peaceful sound every once in a while. 

Vessel wants to go home.

Yet, that place, sinking under the depths, isn't really his home anymore, is it? He's found a new one, he just can't admit it to himself. Fear stays his hand. 

Two pairs of footsteps running towards him fall on deaf ears, his phone hanging loosely at his side in a limp hand. His arms itch, the sensation faint, like the strange feeling of more tears slipping down his cheeks. Free to glide over his skin, salty wet splashes against his shirt, but Vessel doesn't notice. 

"Vessel!" He barely manages to hear II and III, their voices intertwined, only realizing they've finally met up with him when II collides into his back in a hug.

Vessel flails, caught between turning around and pulling away entirely. He settles on turning around, keeping his plushie between them. It doesn't feel like enough, it never does, but Vessel desires what he knows he shouldn't, so he allows them closer than he should. 

"I look away for two seconds and you're gone! You scared the shit out of us, Ves! Please, please don't wander off again." Tears bead at the corners of II's eyes as he pleads with Vessel, wishing for the stuffed animal to be gone, just so he could be close enough to hear Vessel's heartbeat, to know the other man was alive.

The wetness smudges the eyeliner that had remained intact all day, but II still looks beautiful. He always looks beautiful.

Vessel is slowly nodding his agreement without a thought, squeezing II's hand comfortingly, "I didn't mean to worry you,. I'm sorry."

"I know you didn't mean to, honey." II sniffles, uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"Why did you wander off?" III asks, voice small, clutching at Vessel's sleeve like a scared child.

III looks scared, too, wide, wet eyes scanning Vessel for any injuries. "There were so many kids screaming, and everything got really loud. I... I couldn't handle it so I went off to the ocean tunnel area. I only meant to stay at it's entrance, I swear, so I wouldn't lose either of you, but I got distracted by all of the fish and continued." Vessel explains, guilty.

II finds it in himself to laugh, "Of course you got distracted. You at an aquarium must be like a kid in a candy shop. Do you... know why you started to disassociate?"

Vessel's lips pinch beneath his face mask, averting his eyes. "No. Must be because I got overwhelmed."

II knew this would be coming any time now. Vessel hasn't been out around this many people in the entire time II has known him. He knew the other would get overwhelmed eventually, and should have kept a closer eye on him.

Any vulnerability is gone quick enough, snuffed out in replacement of a smile and drying eyes, "Alright, Ves, that makes sense. Do you want to do anything else? There are a few more-"

Vessel wants to go home. He wants to go back to the manor, where he lives with II and III, and he wants to be home with them.

"Can we go back to the manor?" Vessel interrupts, guilty eyes struggling to meet II's.

Vessel turns his head so that his cheek presses onto III's head, taking comfort in the way the curls muddle his line of sight. III still hasn't let him go, still clutching at Vessel's arm like a limpet now, refusing to let any distance come between them. If Vessel focuses, he may be able to feel III's heartbeat in his bicep where the other man has Vessel's arm in a vice grip. 

"Of course we can, Ves. I'll be right back." II says, soft eyes full of understanding.

II turns to go back to the wayfinder to grab their things, hand beginning to slip from Vessel's. He clutches onto it like III is currently doing to him, fearful of any distance between them. "I don't... please- Can we stay close?"

"I'm not going that far, sweetheart. Just to grab our things."

"Too far." Vessel mumbles, selfishly, and II's expression softens further.

II let's Vessel hold onto his hand, all three of them shuffling back through the tunnels towards their collection of bags. It's a miracle all of them are still there, and then Vessel notices the thicker than normal shadows underneath the plastic bags. Vessel still feels guilty that they'd bought him anything, even though II was adamant it was fine, they weren't wanting for money thanks to Sleep, and Vessel had decided for himself that he wanted something. 

"Can we get a drink or something before we go? I would feel better, personally." III asks, feeling guilty for asking.

"Is that fine with you Ves?" II asks, and Vessel nods, replying, "Do they have anything sweet?'

Even if he didn't need sustenance, something sweet did sound nice. As soon as they find themselves surrounded by people, Vessel's hands kick up a faint tremble. II blessedly tries to keep them away from the thick of it, carrying their bags in one hand while keeping hold of Vessel's with the other. 

II finds a secluded spot for Vessel to calm down in, setting their stuff down beside a small fountain. Small tremors wrack his otherwise still form as Vessel's mind settles from being out of the overwhelming situation, holding Jello close while rubbing his thumb and forefinger down the scrunchy material of her arms. 

"I'm going to the restroom and to get us drinks! I'll be right back, promise!" III exclaims, nervously fidgeting with their nail polish, picking at the chipping paint.

"Be careful." II implores while he digs around in his wallet for their credit card, seeming as reluctant to let III go off on their own as III himself is.

"Will do." III grins, easy despite his own anxieties.

"Three." Vessel mutters when III turns to leave, "Sleep will erase anyone who harms you if I ask. Do not be afraid to protect yourself."

"I'll come back to you, Sugar. I'll bring you something sweet, and maybe something more bitter for Two." III leans down to kiss Vessel's forehead, pulling away from the finger he didn't realize was locked around a belt loop.

They glance over at II, a nod meeting his questioning look. The kiss was allowed then. III was hoping it was. II isn't strict on the rules when distressing situations occur, knowing allowing them the small comforts helps. II isn't cruel. III turns, and walks away, long legs carrying him from his lovers quickly. II waits until III is out of sight, both he and Vessel watching them go before II hands Vessel Mr. Nibbles, swimming in his love for the other man as Vessel cuddles into the misshapen shark. Already, away from the crowds and overall noise of the aquarium, Vessel's bond is lighter. The static of overstimulation is beginning to taper. II wants to ask Vessel what happened in the ocean tunnels. That look in his eyes scared him, something like death seeping from his blue eyes into crystal tears.

Now, Vessel is looking at him over his new shark stuffed animal with loving eyes, clear contemplation in the bond. Would II get angry with him? Would he think the nickname was too old-fashioned?

II lets him ruminate in peace, content to keep watch for III's return as Vessel calms down. II tugs on the bond on occasion, relief buzzing through him whenever III returns the gesture.

Vessel does his best not to even think the nickname, despite how much he longs to refer to them as such in his head. He yearns for so many things, and fears allowing himself the luxury of having any of them. He is ruled by his fear, but... II and III have helped him overcome so much already...

"Today was fun, thank you, beloved."

II freezes in place, and Vessel does, too.

"I-I apologize, it just slipped out!" Vessel tries to fix his mistake, even if he said the nickname with purpose, holding his plushies tighter to himself as though their soft forms will protect him. "I won't say it ag- oof!"

II launches himself at Vessel, startling him so badly he loses balance, almost toppling over the ledge and into the fountain behind him. II continues, smile wide, picking Vessel up by the waist and twirling him around. It makes Vessel dizzy, and he's caught between yelping and loosing an undignified giggle. The sound he makes comes out as more of a squeak instead, and II laughs, pressing a kiss into Vessel's stomach. Vessel almost drops his plushies in surprise, easily ignoring the way his ribs ache in protest at the movement. II doesn't miss the flash of Vessel's pain, hold gentling but not placing him back down. Vessel's weight is barely felt due to II's strength, the chains on his pants digging into II's skin. He doesn't want to let go, wants to hold on to Vessel forever. 

"Sorry, sweetheart. Got ahead of myself. Are you okay? I can put you down."

Vessel hums a disagreement, relishing in II's arms around him. He shouldn't be able to feel Vessel's lack of heartbeat. Hopefully. He can't see II's head over his new stuffed animals, but Vessel can still feel his love, feel his happiness, and that's enough. He sends back his own, and it is like they're floating in it, just them two in a vast ocean of tender affection.

"Would you say it again, sweetheart?"

"Beloved." Vessel murmurs, too lowly for II to hear him.

"Again."

"Beloved." Vessel repeats himself a little louder this time, though not above a whisper.

"Again? Please?"

"Beloved."

Now that he's said it properly, at a normal volume, II finally sets him down only to immediately smother him in a world ending kiss, pulling Vessel's facemask down to do so. One hand holds Vessel's nape, pulling him down to meet II's lips while the shorter man stands on his tip toes, the other cupping Vessel's cheek. He is careful not to put too much strain on Vessel's ribs, but Vessel himself is not as careful, once again ignoring the ache and leaning down further so II doesn't have to strain himself.

Gentle 'I love you's' are murmured into the chapped skin of Vessel's lips as II kisses him again, and again, less frenzied than the first, softer, slower.

Finding the restroom is easy enough, III passing by a man who sneers at them distastefully when they politely squeeze by. Taking a piss is a boring affair, as it always is, though III is glad to be the only one in the restroom. Lost in thought about how absolutely gorgeous his boyfriends look today, and still a little frazzled from losing Vessel, III doesn't pay any mind to the next man who comes in the bathroom, takes one look at him, and promptly leaves as III is washing their hands.

A tiny voice croons in awe, something about his hair being pretty and having so many red threads on his fingers, and III freezes in place, turning their head to look at the restroom entrance. Empty, just like the stalls behind him. 

He turns in a circle, looking around. The restroom is completely empty, except for a spider on the wall, hanging out on an intricately spun web in one corner of a small window. The tiny voice speaks again in amused disbelief, and again III understands perfectly. It isn't English, or any other human language, but III's mind translates it with ease. It says something about there being no way a human had heard her speak. The spider shuffles, moving slightly closer. Eight eyes blink slowly, once, twice, before there's a chittering exclamation of realization.

III finds himself pointing at it, mouth hanging open. It's tiny head tilts, before one equally as tiny, spindly arm lifts to point back.

Slowly, the point turns into a mimicry of a wave, and III feels their heart constrict painfully. He waves back cheerfully, trying to keep himself contained so he doesn't scare the little creature.

"You're so cute. What's your name?" III sticks his hand out, and tentatively, the spider climbs on.

It's a small thing, no bigger than III's thumbnail, perhaps a jumping spider? With two large eyes in front with a smaller pair beside each of those, and another set, one eye on either side of its head, and fuzzy little hairs all over the brown body.

"What is a name, Vessel of a God?" She asks in a confused chitter, and III is fairly certain it's a she.

"It is what you are called. My name is Three. It's what my boyfriends call me, and the name I chose when I started my new life." Though surprised, III brushes past the spider knowing their inhuman status.

"You can choose your own name?" III's mind supplies when the spider speaks again.

"Yeah, you can! Or I can name you. It's your choice." III responds, exiting the restroom.

They move off to the side, reaching to fiddle with their phone screen so they don't draw too much attention for talking to their hand.

"You would grant me a name, kind Vessel of a God?" Big, big eyes stare up at III and he knows he won't survive those eyes.

They remind him far too much of Vessel.

III has only known this little spider for a total of five minutes but he'd kill for her.

"Yes, yes, I will! If you want me to! How about Kiwi? Cause you're fuzzy and about the same color."

When Kiwi repeats her name, it is not in any form of human speech, but it translates just the same. She sounds a little awed, and looks so adorable III wants to squeal like a schoolgirl.

"Can I take you home with me? The restroom doesn't seem like a safe place for you to live. I don't want to take you from your home though, if you'd prefer to stay."

"Will I have a place to spin my webs? Food to eat?"

III is nodding rapidly as they agree, "Yeah! I'll make sure of it! You'll need to stay in my room most of the time though. One of my boyfriends is afraid of spiders. He's been working on it but still freaks out when he see's one. It's not your fault though, or his. He's making an effort to get over the fear for my sake." III gushes, pure adoration shining in his eyes as he lifts Kiwi up and let's her hide in his hair.

It tickles a little as she moves around, "Just stay hidden in my hair for now! I'm so excited! You're such an adorable new friend!"

"Your mate, he will not hurt me?"

III's eyebrows raise in surprise, "Mate? Well, I suppose that's an accurate term. No, II won't hurt you. He's more likely to run away or freeze in place. Vessel won't hurt you either, he's too gentle hearted."

"I will take your word for it, friend."

III could cry. This is the sixteenth greatest honor he's ever been gifted. A spider has just reciprocated their friendship. He can't wait to tell II and Ves, even if they know II will be a bit... scared, to put it lightly, at the mere mention of a spider. Maybe he'll wait until they're leaving the aquarium.

He would just have to keep Kiwi in his room, to keep II from seeing her and passing out on his floor or something.

Getting drinks is easy, aside from the long line. II tugs sporadically on the bond in question, anxious for their return, and it leaves a smile permanently etched onto his cheeks long after he orders. There is relief, too, as Vessel's end of the bond loses it's harsh, overstimulated edge. Tugging back is second nature, and each time he is met with II's relief and a heavy dose of love down the bond.

III returns to II holding Vessel in the air by his waist, absolute elation flooding the bond like the waves of an ocean. II has a wide smile on his face, Vessel much the same, and III wishes he could take photo's with his eyes.

"And you said no PDA when I wanted to give you kisses on stage!" III calls, grinning widely, drink holder in hand.

Vessel blushes up to his ears as II puts him down, pulling away and fixing his facemask. He remains close to II's side, holding his new plushies still. He's so fucking cute, III feels he will burst at the seams with his love. 

"I told you I have to concentrate. Besides that, we're as away from other people as we're going to get and you didn't hear what he just called me. You'd want to kiss him senseless, too."

"What did he call you?" III asks II, curious blue eyes sliding to try and catch Vessel's evasive gaze.

Vessel can't bring himself to speak, a conflicting mix of nervous and embarrassed. "Come on, sweetheart, he won't be upset." II gives Vessel a reassuring smile.

III starts handing everyone their drinks, and when Vessel takes his, he speaks in the same fashion he had with II mere moments before, "Thank you, beloved, I appreciate it."

III freezes, wide eyed as a grin twitches onto their face. Then, he doesn't do anything. Just stands there, drink in hand. Vessel would have thought he'd done something wrong if the emotions coming from III's bond weren't complete and utter love and elation.

"I think you've broken him, sweetheart." II's teases lightly and Vessel is struck by a mix of worry and mirth.

"I didn't mean to. I wouldn't have said it if I'd known they'd react this way." Vessel replies, unsure, pulling his plushies closer.

"No!" III practically shouts, and it's so sudden Vessel steps back out of instinct.

III's smile is still bright, the blissed daze he'd fallen into slipping away so he could grasp at some amount of coherency after Vessel short circuited their brain. He steps forward, handing his drink to II who takes it with a small smile, "No, Sugar, I'm so happy with that nickname! I want to hear it everyday for the rest of my life! You're absolutely adorable."

Arms wrap around Vessel's torso, III pressing in so close. The only thing that keeps their chests from meeting is the plushies Vessel still holds. Vessel smells of the ocean, something like the salt on a gentle breeze. It's a scent III has noticed before, but it's stronger here, in this place, where the scent can be given a proper name.

III wants to hug him, pull Vessel close and meld into one. He wants to know why Vessel won't allow them to hug him, why he is so adamant they remain far away from his neck and chest with few exceptions. He wants to ask, to know, but neither he nor II will dare.

Vessel has allowed so much, told them so much already, shared painful secrets. If there is something else he is hiding, there must be good reason. III just hopes it isn't something that will hurt Vessel in the long run, hopes one day Vessel will tell them.

Kiwi chitters in III's ear about how cute his boyfriend is, and III wants nothing more than to shout it from the rooftops because it is the truth and he needs the world to know. Kiwi moves around in III's hair before he can't feel her at all, and internally, III panics, afraid she has fallen. 

"Make sure II doesn't see the little spider." Vessel mumbles, breath cool against III's ear, close enough for III to feel the way his lips brush against the sensitive skin.

When Vessel pulls away, III's face is bright red, pupils dilated as he see's Kiwi hanging off of one of Vessel's braids, thankfully at an angle II can't see. Despite his flustered state, III nods as if nothing is wrong, as if Vessel's pretty voice in his ear didn't send blood straight down to his dick. Reluctant to let him go, but knowing it would only make Vessel uncomfortable to continue holding on to him, III lets their arms fall back to their sides, taking their drink back from II. A sip is taken, and III groans.

"This is the best matcha iced latte I've ever had! Surely I would remember that much. You've got to try this, Ves! I got you the same thing. Oh, and a dark chocolate frappe for Two, I thought you might like it because it isn't super sweet-."

While III distracts II with talk of their respective drinks, Vessel tells the little spider his name, even if he isn't sure it understands him. A gentle hand reaches up to fiddle with one of his braids, Vessel trying to discreetly move the little spider somewhere II won't see it. It's a cute little thing, waving up at him happily. Vessel moves it to the pocket on his loose shirt, letting the spider slip inside. Vessel finally takes a sip of his iced latte, finding it to be a perfect amount of sweet and bitter, mostly sweet. He likes it, and wonders if they could get something similar in the city near the manor.

"This is really good, beloved, thank you." Vessel comments quietly, and is surprised when III steals a kiss.

They taste of matcha, like their drinks.

"Three! You little brat. Make that three days."

"Oh come on, Doll! Show me some mercy, he's just too fucking cu- Hey! Stop- Stop flicking me! I'm not a cat-!"

Vessel laughs, feeling light on his feet despite the tiredness dimming his brainpower. His bond, somehow, feels less weighed down than the others, and he knows he must have scared them badly.

They leave the aquarium in varying states of emotion after finishing some of their drinks. Everyone is a little on edge, the terrifying situation of having lost Vessel lingering like the rot of death, and yet time has passed, the tension fading away bit by bit. Guilt festers in Vessel's empty chest. Regardless, Vessel is still happy, so happy, but heavily bittersweet. He sips at his drink on the way to the car, holding the little spider in his hand, resting curled in his lap once they're on the way back to the hotel. III chats with II in the front seat, animated and full of energy regardless of the long day they've had. Vessel wants nothing more than to take a nap, exhaustion making his bones its home. His mind runs wild, thoughts swirling round and round. 

Today had been good, despite it's rough start and iffy middle. His first ever official date, outside of the manor, that is. He made mistakes, and the others didn't get too upset with him. He remained unhurt, only loved. Truly loved.

How was II to know that Vessel would grow nostalgic for the peace of the ocean, the moon above him, the fish swimming around him without care, and the way his mind and heart finally seemed to settle even as his body struggled for air.

Vessel still doesn't know how he survived that. He made sure the next attempt would be the last, and it had been. Until Sleep came to him, anyway.

Nick is watching television while simultaneously scrolling on his phone when they return to the hotel. He spares them a warm greeting, though he doesn't look up from his phone screen for long enough to really get a glimpse at any of them.

Vessel carefully avoids looking at him, once again nervous to be existing in his presence. If he looks at Nick too long he can feel the other man's hand on his shoulder, brushing against his lower back. It makes him vaguely ill.

They take turns washing their makeup off, III bemoaning losing such a pretty sight. Nick snorts quietly, lip curling. Only Vessel seems to have noticed, as is becoming a familiarity. He seems hyper aware of everything Nick does, something about the other man instilling a quiet, but building, fear in him. It's a recognizable feeling, but... Nick isn't like that. Like them. 

II spares no time for rest, beginning to pack their things without care for the time. He has clearly taken Vessel's request to go back to their manor seriously. The thought of going back soon becomes all he can think about, discreetly handing III the little spider and going to lay down. He curls around a pillow and wonders if his heart still beats while he is aw ay from it. Wonders how Elvira is doing, if Sleep misses him the way Vessel misses the God. 

Vessel wishes he had brought his new plushies inside instead of leaving them in the trunk, fearing losing them on the trip back and the stop they'll have to make at Nick's apartment.

"Going back to sleep already, Vessel?" Nick asks, his presence nearing.

Vessel's eyes shoot open, having not realized he'd closed them. Nick is beginning to sit on the bed, phone in hand as he mindlessly scrolls. Vessel moves to sit up so he can put some distance between him, but one glance from Nick has him stilling.

II and III are bickering loudly by the bathroom over III having lost something. Vessel knows III isn't used to having to keep track of their own things since the house always returns any lost items quickly, and would say as much if Nick weren't around. 

"Must be tiring third-wheeling their date, huh?" Nick snickers quietly, turning warm brown eyes on Vessel. 

Vessel winces, Nick's words like a dagger to the heart even if it is no longer in his chest. 

"You're not much of a socializer, it must've been so boring."

Anxiety begins to fester under Vessel's skin, a hand coming to rest on his ankle. Vessel wants to throw up, carefully hiding his emotions from the bond as III laughs about something or other.

Get off of me. Don't touch where Four had. Don't ruin the memory with your filth. Today had been good, please don't ruin it for me. I have so few good things.

Vessel is begging in his mind for Nick to go away. A thumb begins to caress his ankle, brushing over the tips of fading scars. He flinches away, curling into himself further. Nick grins, standing with a whisper that wraps thorns around Vessel's throat, "Not much of a talker, either. That's probably for the best." 

"Hey, Nick, have you seen Three's checkered socks? He's lost them." II calls, ruffling through III's duffel bag.

"No, I can't say that I have. Give me a sec, I'll help you look." Nick responds, walking away from Vessel's bedside.

The room isn't even big, and yet Vessel feels the space between them widening like a chasm, a welcome distance. 

"Was nice talking to you, Ves. Hope you had fun on your date." Nick's voice never loses its kindness, and Vessel's stomach churns, the itch for a blade building in his fingertips.

He turns onto his other side as he buries himself under the bedcovers, and wishes to go back to the manor where only the three vessels live. Where he doesn't have to see Nick more than a few times a week. Where Vessel feels safe. He promised II, he promised.

I promised, Vessel repeats, digging his blunt, human nails into soft skin and wishes to bleed.

[littlest-dark-age]

Damiano david headcannons

Tagging @daddydamiano @noshame-bb @mywritingonlyfans

Translations 1, my soul 2, angel 3, my love 4, my life 5, little star 6, puppy 7, bunny 8, sweetness. Please let me know if any translation is incorrect.

Damiano would always be pressing kisses into your soft skin, wherever he could reach at the moment. The two of you are cooking and you have a huge sleep shirt on that reveals your shoulders? Kiss. You're fiddling with his hands out in public due to nerves? He's kissing every finger while looking you in the eye with a grin. You'd think he's convinced its a carnal sin to not kiss you every five minutes

He would beg you to do his makeup, constantly. He loves the intimacy of it, you usually sit on his lap for it and the way you gently cup his strong jaw turns him into an absolute puddle. You lose count of how many times you have to make him look back at you because he just wants to close his eyes and sink into the warmth you radiate. But you can't be mad at him, not when he looks up at you with those puppy dog eyes, shining with love.

Damia would absolutely give you one of his rings, and if it doesn't fit your fingers, no worries. He'll just give you one of his chains to put it on. He loves to kiss it when you wear it, whether it be on the chain or your hand. It always makes his heart skip a beat, a claim to the world that he was the lucky one to capture your affections

Please play with his hair, please. He will turn into a puppy the minute your nails graze his scalp. It doesn't matter the length, he loves it. His eyes slowly shut as you scratch at the shaved sides but he'll deny that he's about to fall asleep. 

Spa nights. Just, spa nights. He will let you put the cute animal headbands on him to keep his hair out of his mask, even letting you put it on him. Dami would love to watch movies like Legally Blonde and Clueless while you paint his nails and the glittery mask on his face dries. Never wearing a shirt, saying he wants skin to skin with you as he raises your shirt up to your chest so the two of you are pressed together. He'd sit on the floor, letting you work the hair mask through his hair as the first movie goes off and he starts to hunt for another, one of his hands stroking your bare leg.

Sleepy make out sessions are his favorite, after he's had his tea and the two of you are dead tired but can't stop. Even going as far to tell you that the two of you really should go to bed, as he's sweetly kissing you. There's no rush to it, no need to hide away your love as it's just the two of you. Locked away from the rest of the world, where damiano david is just yours. Where his nose keeps bumping yours just so he can hear you laugh and have you rub your own against his, like a bunny. His hands snaking up the back of your shirt to stroke down the length of your spine with the tips of his fingers. Barely enough for you to be able to feel it. 

If you were okay with it, he would absolutely want to tattoo you. He would never pressure you to if you really didn't but he would try to convince you if you were on the fence about it. If you let him pick, good luck. It would either be something like 'i am yours', which he would get a matching one. Probably around his heart. Or it would be something for måneskin. To have something he worked so hard on, permanently on someone he loves so so much would have him ecstatic. 

The pet names. They're never ending and ever changing. He says he can't help it and that he just says what comes to mind when he sees you. Whether that's anima mia 1, angelo 2, amore mio 3, vita mia 4, stellina 5, cucciolo 6, leprotta 7, or dolcezza 8. You never know which one to expect but they all bring a smile to your face, nevertheless. 

Damiano would always ask your opinion on his stage outfits, not really for reassurance but more so to involve you in every possible thing he can. He loves your input and always takes it into consideration. And you help him remember some things, like something might make him too hot or might restrict his movements on stage. The practical things he doesn't always think about, more focused on the look and aesthetic of it. 

Pictures, pictures and more pictures. He loves taking pictures of you doing the smallest of tasks, especially for when he has to be away from you. If you hid your face, he would still adore the photo but pout a bit because he couldn't see you. Even if photos could never compare to the real thing, in his words. He just wants you to be able to love yourself the way he loves you. He doesn't care about some imperfections, they're what make up you and everybody has them. So, it's probably easier to just let him have his pictures. 

His lockscreen is a picture of you and him with the cats piled up between the two of you. You didn't even know he took it until you went to check something on his phone for him. Dami says you look so peaceful in it, pressing a kiss to the cat's head with your eyes closed, and that it always helps him calm down when he looks at it. That it reminds him of home when he's not there to hold you on the nights on the road. Although, his wallpaper is an entirely different story. A bit more...spicy, if you will. It's a picture of you laying in bed wearing black lacy lingerie with a camera in your hand, and Damiano's legs are able to be seen straddling your waist.

He might not always be able to call or facetime during a tour but believe it when he makes those calls worth it. He loves to be able to call you for hours at a time and if time zones allow it, go to sleep with you on call. If not, that's okay. He has your time zone saved in his clock so he can always be sure to send you a goodnight or good morning text, even if it's a bit late or early. Damia needs to have that little slice of normalcy to keep him from going crazy during the tour. He lives and breathes music, don't get me wrong. But you are his soul and his mind, without you, there would be no music. 

If you're out with the band, he will pull you as close as you'll allow. Even onto his lap if it's a more private place or just you and the others. But this also means you'll be poked and tickled the entire night, even if you slap his hands away. He can't keep his hands off of your ribs, no matter how sore his hands get from your smacks. He compares it to when a kitten nibbles on them.

Damiano needs to be convinced to take a break and slow down, often. He gets so swept up in it that he doesn't realize he hasn't had a proper meal in a couple of days or that he's been skimping on sleep to write lyrics and play around with harmonies. Getting him out of the studio is hard, but much needed. He will appreciate it, as well as apologize for neglecting you for the past days. A nice date or just something to get him outside is just what he needed. No matter how casual it is, being able to relax and spend some time with you is one of his favorite things to do.

Some of his favorite dates are the ones where the two of you are able to just do something and have a good time without the pressure of having to dress up and get ready. He still uses the heart shaped mug you made him on one of your dates, still listens to the record you got him when the two of you got all of your favorite albums and swapped. He still has the tickets from the first movie the two of you were able to go and see together, stuck in between the worn pages of some old book of italian poems he's had forever

His love language is a mix of acts of service and gift giving. He loves to give you little trinkets and stuff he finds while on tour, each item reminding him of you in some way or another. Even if it's just a rock he thought you might like, a pair of earrings you've mentioned before or even just something he thought you might could use. And he will give you one of his oversized blazers if the two of you are out and it's cool, even make sure you have enough to eat and offer you bites of his own food if you want. Hell, if you wanted what he ordered versus what you ordered, he would swap it even if your dish isn't his favorite thing.

Dami loves cooking with you, there's something so domestic about it that he can't help but imagine your future together. He always claims that the meals the two of you prepare together are the best thing he's ever eaten, no matter how simple it is. Just don't break the pasta in front of him, you'll send him into cardiac arrest.

He loves it when you trace and kiss his tattoos, they're something he's proud of and knowing how much you like them just makes him happy. Of course, he knows you don't have to adore every tattoo he has as long as he's happy with it, but it still makes him feel nice when you show his ink a bit of love. It always tickles him a bit when you drag your nail on the ones in his chest, sending shivers down his spine when you do. 

He is a cover hog, yet denies it with every bone in his body. He claims you push them onto him most of the time, despite the fact that you struggle to cover up completely whilst he's on the other side of the bed bundled up like a baby with almost the entire cover. Thankfully, he's warm enough that you can just curl up behind him or into his side and get all the heart that you need from him. He still denies that he hogs the covers when the entire comforter is in a pile on his side, almost like he's trying to build himself a nest

Showering together is one of his favorite things, he loves how intimate it can be. Holding you and helping you wash up without any need to be awkward and feeling comfortable in your own skin in front of each other means so much to him. Being able to be open with one another and not hide anything, even if it's insecurities about your body. He understands that the world isnt always the nicest place and that he can't undo how people's words might hurt you but he'll try his best to get you to love your body

Damiano would love to teach you italian if you didn't already and wanted to learn. He's so excited to be able to share something like this with you that he doesn't realize how hard it is to teach someone an entire language. He overestimates himself and how good of a teacher he is, but that doesn't mean he won't try his best. It just takes a little bit of time, for the both of you. He understands the struggles of learning a new language and wouldn't try to push you to learn it so soon. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day. 

[introloves]

Aone having a FAT crush on a tiny quiet barista at his new favorite cafe, they’ve memorized his order and even makes sure to keep his favorite seat open every morning for him- maybe they go to his school too but they never really talk? They kinda smile at him and wave in the hallways but never talk?

THIS IS SO CUTEEEE!!!!! nd bc im me i turned it into smut :( sowwy

— first times + big dick aone, embarrassed abt his size + size kink + brief summary of aone x reader’s relationship before we get to the smut + hard smut towards the end + f! reader

he wouldn’t say anything, he couldn’t say anything but you’d know by the way he he’s always mumbling when he gets to the counter, eyes shying away from your own, hands shaky everytime he’d hand you money, 2.25, every morning for his favorite cup of tea.

it’d always take you a couple seconds to put yourself back together, your own shaky hands tenaciously putting together his drink, perhaps making it with extra care.

he’d usually come alone, but on rare days there’d be a couple other faces. one in particular with brown sleek hair, would push him to mumble out words other than, ‘thank you’.

the teasing laughter and bright red coloring to his face was a dead giveaway. you’d only mess with your friends like this if there was crushing involved.

it’d make you burn up at the thought that he had a crush on you, he’s so big and intimidating and at first you’d have your guard up everytime he stepped inside, a looming presence not hard to notice.

but as the days went by, you’d see how much care he’d put into things. he’d take time to clean up his booth, make sure to recycle his cup, and always shyly nod his head towards you in a silent goodbye. on days where he feels especially brave, aone leaves a flower, one that he thinks most closely resembles your beauty.

on those days, when its your turn to clean the tables and you see a single, delicately picked flower, your heart thumps loudly in your chest.

you’d started falling for him before long.

and of course the dating starts shortly after.

you swear you’ve never felt love before him. he’s everything you needed, a nice security in an otherwise tumultuous and very scary world.

he holds you with arms that are twice as thick as yours, could squeeze you tight enough to hurt so very easy, but instead cradles you to sleep with so much care.

hands that work tirelessly, calloused, veiny and wide touch your face with a delicacy that doesn’t come naturally to someone of his size. he works at it, works at making sure he’s careful.

and you appreciate it, you do, but when you see him open jars for you with ease, reach over your head to pluck whatever you need from the top of shelves in stores, pick you up with no groan or strain, it makes your mind wander.

everything with him is so easy, so you don’t know why, when you’re slick between the thighs, throbbing with want for him, he makes it so hard.

he refuses your advances, pulls you off with a sad smile and jumbled words of,

“he’s not ready.” when you can clearly see he’s hard behind his pants.

it makes you cry, wondering if you’re not good enough. was the flustered flirting, kisses, and confession all just a big joke?

your tears break him, he hurriedly explains that it’s him. he won’t hurt you, can’t, refuses to.

“what are you talking about.” you hiccup, whipping away the tears.

“i just...” he sighs, running a palm down his face.

“i’m too big.”

your jaw nearly drops at that. the heat of embarrassment and lick of something hotter burns at your neck and tummy.

you’ve never heard or seen a man shy away because of his size, usually they boast and brag and have very little to boast and brag about.

you tell him it doesn’t matter, you want him. eyes wide and pleading, hoping he doesn’t shy away because you want him so bad.

his resolution is broken, he’s attracted to you after all. but you’re so small, so cute and plush and curvy in all the places he wants to sink his fingers into.

“i’ll be gentle.” he thinks when he finally grabs you, pulling you onto his lap.

he doesn’t miss the way your mouth shuts closed when you feel him, hips giving a small push against him to make sure you aren’t imagining him like this.

the kissing starts, fevered lips painting eachother in spit, shy moans leave the both of you.

foreplay is skipped, you’ve both held back long enough, and you wouldn’t let him anyways.

“not a good idea.” aone mumbles, but you don’t listen. you want him now.

one again you push at his weak spots, everything he does, he does to please you. but you make it seem that it’s quite the opposite, you want what he wants.

and aone is anything but an aroused man with a cute, soft, tiny girlfriend beneath him.

the first meeting of his cockhead against your leaking, twitching hole has him clench his teeth, hand placed heavy over your tummy to still your hips.

“it’s going to hurt.” he reminds you, but you still don’t care.

“i want you.” you breathe, it makes him hiss.

there were many steps you’d both taken together to get where you were.

from the first time he saw you at the café, bustling around with a smile that tugged at his heart, to a couple minutes ago, when you panted wantonly into his ear about how much you fantasized of him burying himself in you to the hilt, watching your eyes roll back as he pushes in is his favorite so far.

he’s not that expirienced, but knows that the growing wetness dripping onto his thighs with every squelch of your pussy as he sinks in is a good sign.

“g-god. nobu, you’re so big.” you chant.

he knows, he warned you.

but it’s not a bad thing, he thinks, because with just a few pumps in, the stretch he gives you, along with hips brushing against your clit, you’re already creaming around him.

he doesn’t blink the whole time you do, zeroed in on the shake of your thighs, fat squishing him against you, pussy equally trying to milk him of his own.

he thinks the best thing to do is to stay still and wait until you’re okay.

aone knows you are when the talk starts back up.

you can see the sweat glisten against his chest, you know he’s holding back, giving you shy thrusts once more.

it’s good, the same shy, tentative thrusts just made you cum so hard you couldn’t hear for a second, but there’s a hint of raw power he’s holding back.

“takanobu.” you call to him with a shaky voice.

he responds with a worried glance.

“use me.”

he looks at you in disbelief,

“n-no. i’ll hurt you.”

your hips rut, swiveling around the very hard cock of him in absolute desperation.

“i want you to hurt me.” you say. and he sees red.

there’s a tinge of fear at the hardened gaze he gives you, he moves you with an ease, making a show to grab your hips in both hands, lifting you off the bed as he kneels down.

he does as he’s told, moving you how he wants, impaling you down on his big cock over and over, watching the soft parts of you jiggle with the intensity of it, meeting the fat of your ass and thighs with harsh slaps. he digs already darkening splotches the shape of his nails into you.

you can do nothing but scream, trying to hold on to the bed so you don’t slam into the creaking headboard. but you don’t really have to worry, even now he makes sure to keep you from moving away from his pounding.

you can’t feel your legs with the second orgasm that takes you, knees lock and pussy once again creaming all over him while he drills into you.

this is what you wanted, your own pleasure being driven by aone. just like everything else, he makes sure to take care of you so good, your cunt numb and fucked open by the time he’s done.

he pulls out to cum all over your pussy, there’s so much.

he finally comes back to you with a noise that sounds apologetic.

“i’m sor-“ you cut him off before he can say anything, grabbing his face in both hands with shaky arms thanks to him.

“don’t.” you begin, telling him that it’s okay to not be careful, something he’s always been.

you let him know that with you, he doesn’t have to tip toe, that in the safety the two of your shared, he was free to do everything those who didn’t know him whispered about him. he was allowed to be mean, allowed to use those muscles he’s built, allowed to be scary.

finishing with a kiss to his lips,

you’ve loved him since he left you flowers at work, and you’d still love him even after drilling your pussy into submission.

[jean-kayak]

Anon Request: heyyy! so like i LOVED the haikyuu x thick black gf, do you think you could do it for the generations of miracles too? if that’s a lot maybe just akashi because i love that man

A/N: Here it is, anon! And I did all of them for you, so I hope you like it! (and yes it is 2 am)

Word Count: 2.5k

Haikyuu!! version here and here!

》Poor baby would be overwhelmed

》He wouldn't know what to do lmfao, and he probably be a stuttering mess when he first meets you

》He's probably nervous to touch you at first because he doesn't really know where to start and because there's so much of you

》But once he gets comfortable enough, he always wants you on top of him or on him in some way shape or form

》He always denies you when you think you might crush him because he really loves the weight of you on him, and he probably prefers to be the little spoon

》I feel like he's not big on getting head, but when you do, he feels like his life has changed

》It feels so good, he doesn't know what to do or where to go lmfao, so he just ends up squirming a ton, the moans he's making completely out of his control

》His body definitely feels like jelly when he cums, and he probably won't move for a while lmfao

》Now when he goes down on you? He was mesmerized by how much slick you had produced and all you guys had done was made out

》He'll just lay there between your legs, gripping your thighs tightly when you squirm under his gaze, but he can't help but watch

》He'll play with your nipples, run his fingers just shy of touching you where you want him just to see if you'll get even wetter

》And when he finally tastes you, he wonders why he wasn't doing this sooner, and you don't think you've seen him move with such enthusiasm off the court before

》He's moaning into your folds, his hands digging into your thighs as he eats you out with more fervor

》In that moment in time, he was content with staying in between your legs for the rest of his life

》But then you finally slept together, and he really thought that the air had been snatched from his lungs

》He can barely last long when he slides in, and he doesn't even move when he bottoms out lmfao, he just rests his face in your neck

》His hands are just scrambling and grabbing all over your body as he tries to stop himself from cumming and he hasn't even moved yet

》He obviously doesn't last long 💀 but he makes sure he cums, and the moment he slides out, he's out like a light lmfao

》And he definitely goes and buys you a ring the next day

》Fangirls, who? Mans forgets them the moment his eyes land on you

》Like seriously, he literally ignores them and only talks to you, walking right past them, and he probably doesn't realize that they're standing there

》Your boobs are definitely his favorite part of you, he'll lay on them, touch them, squeeze them, doesn't matter, his hands are always on them

》He's eccentric in public, but the moment you go down on him, he's nothing but a stuttering mess, moans and whimpers the only thing coming from him

》It literally takes everything in him to not buck up into your mouth, which feels like heaven,

》Puts a hand on your head to try and ground himself because he definitely feels like he's floating

》When he cums, the world seems to just disappear, and you have to rub over his face to make sure he's okay because he hasn't moved in a while

》And after you've made him feel spineless, it's only right for him to return the favor of course

》Once he starts though, he doesn't really plan on stopping and he never does it to just return the favor

》His eyes widen when he realizes how soaked you are when he brushes his fingers over your folds, his ministrations soaking his hand and wrist

》You're producing so much that he can't let it go to waste, so he's sliding in between your legs, and he freezes in shock for a second before attaching his mouth to your folds

》He definitely wants to stay there for the rest of his life, practically drowning in your slick, not really caring if it kills him

》Coaxes you to orgasm quickly just so he can taste more of you, that becoming his only priority

》And he makes sure to catch every last drop, the last thing he wants to do is waste it

》And when he's finally inside you, he tries to chuckle, thinking that there's no way you can feel this good, but it's cut off with a garbled moan

》You really do feel this good, your cunt hot and wet, sucking him back in every time he pulls out

》He feels a shudder run up his spine, his body practically shaking with euphoria as he can't focus on anything else but you

》His eyes roll when you clamp around him, and his orgasm comes out of nowhere, his body going rigid

》He can barely catch himself, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to calm his heartbeat down. "So, you wanna get married tomorrow?"

》Please, this man would have such a hard time making basic conversation lol

》He has a hard time trying to focus on talking to you because he keeps focusing on your body

》Definitely just freezes in place whenever you wear shorts or anything that shows off your thighs

》You're pretty sure you saw his nose bleeding one time, and he brushed you off when you asked, his face as red as a tomato

》He's like Kuroko, hesitantly touching you because he doesn't know what to do because you're so thick

》Once he gets comfortable and over that completely flustered phase, his hands are continuously on your thighs

》You find him squeezing them softly or laying on them, totally mesmerized by how soft they are

》When you offer to go down on him, he's quick to say that you don't have to, but you insist that you want to do it

》Needless to say, he never tries to convince you otherwise again

》The blush on his face spreads down to his chest, sweat coating his forehead as he has trouble controlling the noises he's making

》And the pleasure is so great that he actually goes silent, the only indication that he's cum is when you feel him shoot down your throat

》You actually have to check on him, and you chuckle softly as you fix his glasses, his breathing ragged

》I feel like he's one of the guys who's never really understood the appeal of going down on somebody, but he's not opposed to it

》And his opinion changes when he finally sees how soaked you get from just a tiny amount of foreplay and when your slick lands on his tongue

》You've actually never seen him put more emotion into something, and he's actually urging you to squeeze his head with your thighs, pushing them together as his fingers dig into them

》You actually have to pull him away from you when you cum, the only thing he's focused on is tasting you

》He really doesn't think you could get any better, but then he feels your walls around him, and he feels his heart skip multiple times

》He really doesn't know what to focus on, and he actually forgets to move, and you have to jolt him out of the trance you put him in

》Even after that, it's like his brain has stopped working lmfao, literally the only thing running through his mind is how warm and tight your walls are

》He groans when he sees your slick all over him, and he hits that spot inside of you, making you clench around him and that's what sends him over the edge

》And he didn't even realize he was that close 💀 "Marriage sounds like a good idea, doesn't it?"

》Ooh boy, this man, literally jaw drops open, hits the floor, and then he's quickly running over to you, trying to flirt with you to the max

》He's actually pretty surprised that he managed to get you, but he's definitely showing you off, making sure everyone knows that you're his

》He loves your ass, literally the only thing he'll pay attention to

》So, if you're back is towards him, you can totally forget about him following the conversation

》Expect him to smack your ass randomly, like outta nowhere

》He'll be the pettiest boyfriend in the world saying shit like "I'll do it if you suck my dick" stupid shit like that 🙄✋🏽

》So, then you do...you suck the soul of out him and this man literally buys you whatever you want

》He can't help but cant his hips, thrusting into your mouth, but it doesn't last long because he's cumming after a couple of thrusts, a deep groan coming out of his throat

》While you're making out, he teases your folds with his fingers, but he stops kissing you when he realizes how wet you are

》His attention is quickly shifted to your cunt, as he slides down your body, pushing your legs to your chest before eating you out like his last meal

》He loses himself in your taste, your juices coating the lower half of his face and dripping down his chin

》You whine from the overstimulation when you cum, and he pulls away but once you recover, his mouth is right back on you

》And he'll either be there or fucking you into the mattress, holding your legs in the same position

》His eyes are rolling in the back of his head, trying to hold back as he fucks into you, a white ring appearing at the base of his dick

》How much slick you produce always amazes him, no matter what he does, and it's all he pays attention to as he fucks you

》He cums way too early for his liking, surprising himself

》But at the same time, it's not like he could really control it with how good you feel around him

》He fucking you through his high, bringing you to yours, and then he's pulling out of you, resting back on his haunches

》"Looks like I'm gonna have to marry you."

》This man tries to act like he's not floored by your body, but he absolutely is

》His eyes are always running over your body whenever you're not looking his way

》Your thighs and your ass are his favorite parts; picks you up so that he can feel them around his waist, his hands splayed on your ass

》Is always laying on your thighs, literally does anything while he's in between them

》When you give him head the first time, he's pretty patient because come on now, my mans is packing

》But he jumps slightly in surprise when you fully take him down your throat, digging his nails into his palm when he sees himself in your throat

》He's literally sinking into whatever furniture he's sitting/laying on because he's never been with someone that could actually take all of him before

》He doesn't really know how to react because he's never felt pleasure like this before

》Got this man's legs twitching lmfao

》He doesn't even move after he cums, just lays there, and there's no way you can move him so you just leave him there 💀

》Now, one thing you'll have to be ready for is when he eats you out

》The first time he gets his mouth on you? His snacks are being thrown out the window

》You're his snack now, and he literally will push your legs up and out of his way, and there's literally nothing you can do to stop him

》He gives overstimulation a new meaning when you meet him, and he doesn't let you go until he's gotten his fill

》He's eating you out more so for his pleasure than yours. Period.

》This man is still lazy though, and he makes you do all the work, so he'll just lay back and let you do all the work as you sink down on him

》But then he feels your walls pulsing around him, and his hands are twitching as he tries to control himself

》The only thing he can do is rest his hands on your hips as you ride him, and he really can't do anything else even if he wanted to

》He starts fucking up into you once he starts reaching his climax, a deep "fuck" leaving him as he shoots into you, and you're not too far behind

》"It's not that big of a deal, but you wanna get married?" (It is that big of a deal 🙄✋🏽)

》He tries to seem cool, calm, collected when he first meets you

》He's not like Atsushi, who tries to pretend like he's not amazed by your body

》He's just trying to play off how you affect him

》I feel like he doesn't have a favorite body part of yours, wanting to show love to every part

》His hands run over every single inch, literally no part of you goes untouched by him

》Like Midorima, he's not really all about receiving head, but that confident persona is gone once you go down on him

》He's never been the one to become speechless, but you literally render him just that, his brain completely blurred, the only thing he can think about is how amazing your mouth is

》He starts to back away from you a little bit lmao because of how good he feels, the pleasure building up in his spine quickly

》He squirms a ton when he cums, and that's all he can do lol, and he doesn't deny you in the future if you want to go down on him

》He wants to pleasure you too, so he'll easily go down on you, but he chuckles in disbelief when he sees your glistening folds

》And he's amazed by how it seems like your arousal is endless, the juices coating his tongue and his face

》Moves his hands out of the way so that he can feel your legs squeezing his head like Midorima

》He eats you out with so much energy, smiling against you when you fall apart, living for the feeling of your legs twitching against his ears from overstimulation

》The first time you sleep together, his plans to take it slow are quickly forgotten

》Your walls seem to swallow him quickly, practically sucking him in, and he groans in surprise

》He wants to move, but if he does, he knows he'll cum in record time, but even the warmth and pulse of your walls is nearly enough to send him over the edge

》He just tries to aim for your g-spot just in case he cums way before you are able to, but that only sends him higher because your walls are clamping around him

》He knows he's not gonna last long, and he'll make it up to you later, but at that moment, he picks up the speed of his hips, his eyes slipping shut

》He has to brace himself when he cums, his hands on either side of your hands, his lungs feeling like they can't get enough air

》"Doesn't marriage sound like an amazing idea to you?"

Tags: @that-chick212

[forthehpfanboys]

Broken Stitches

Pair: Hermione Granger x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Hermione usually gripes about your dirty clothes being everywhere.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI), oral (female receiving)

Smut Prompt 40: “Is that my (shirt/uniform/jersey- this has so much potential it hurts)?”

Notes: I have never written hetero smut before so I’m starting off light (please go easy on me, I'm trying). I’m gonna save the big smut for the next request. Lowkey think this is terrible but uh, ya know. And word count wise? This should probably be a fic but I got carried away-

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Usually, when you leave clothes around, Hermione nagged about it. She’d grumble for hours- literal hours- about how you have a dirty clothes basket for a reason, how she’s not your mom and shouldn’t have to clean it up, even though your dorm is shared with a bunch of dudes who each treat it like their person clothes bin, and literally no one asked her to clean it up.

Lately, she’s been quiet. She hasn’t been shrieking or nagging or threatening to hex you unless you clean it, she’s been leaving it be, which was very uncharacteristic for your girlfriend. Another weird thing was that your quidditch jersey was completely missing and you needed it for the game coming around. You asked everyone in your dorm, and not a single one knew where it ran off too.

It wasn’t until you walked into her own shared dorm and saw Hermione laying across her bed, reading a book… In your quidditch jersey, which looked cleaner than usual. You stared at the baggy shirt laying against her skin. You couldn’t see the title of the book, but you could tell by the white cover and the big cursive red letters that it was clearly a romance novel- and it was getting to the good part, you could tell because she kept shifting her legs and pressing her thighs together.

“Babe?”

Hermione almost jumped out of her skin. She slammed the book shut and shoved it under the blanket, crossing her arms over her chest. She quickly looked over at you, the heat spreading across her cheeks like a typhoon of red. Her bubblegum pink tongue dragged across her lips quickly, her knees coming up to her chest.

"Oh, hey, love! How-um-how are you?" Hermione smiled, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. She was blushing, you could see it in the dim light of her dorm. No one else was in the room-- the rest of the girls opted for spending quality time together in the warm spring air.

"Is that my jersey?" You asked, pointing at the loose (h/c) t-shirt clinging onto her chest. She stammered over a reply, her cheeks brightening in color when your point drifted to the rectangular shape hidden under the blankets. "And are you reading porn?"

"It isn't porn!! It's a romantic novel filled with drama and heart stopping romance suitable for any young witch!" She huffed out, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes stared into yours.

"That may be true, but.. Does it have porn in it?" You smirked, leaning against one of the four posts holding together her bed.

Her jaw dropped at your cocky tone and said, "No! It's romance, (Y/n)! A man like you wouldn't understand."

"Really, cupcake? That hurts my feelings." You let out a laugh, watching her with dark eyes as she stretched her legs out. "So, you're not wet because of the story right now?"

"(Y/n)!!" Hermione picked up her pillow and threw it at you, but you managed to catch it and threw it back.

"What? Is it so bad to check on my baby girl?" You were grinning again-- her thighs kept rubbing together and her hands gripped the end of the blanket. You could practically smell her arousal.

"Fine! Yes! It has porn in it! Bugger off!" Hermione squealed, putting the pillow back into place behind her back so she didn't have to look at you.

"That's all I wanted to hear, lovely." you pulled out your wand. You shut the door, locked it and used a silencing charm all at once before throwing the stick off to the side and gripping the thick, red blanket

Yanking the blanket off the bed, and haphazardly throwing it to the ground, you crawled onto the foot of the bed and grabbed her ankles. You tugged her closer and ignored her squeal due to the sudden movement. From the fast bounce of her tits and the bare skin that got exposed as the jersey rode up when her body slid toward you, you could tell she was naked, except for one thin, piece of fabric.

You licked your lips, trailing your hands up her legs to her smooth thighs. You felt pure excitement when her legs naturally fell open, exposing the thin piece to you. It was hiding just one of your favorite features of her and it had a small wet patch right in the middle.

"Merlin, 'Mione.. You know just how to get me goin', don't you?" You spoke up, watching her face carefully as her eyebrows furrowed and her lip became trapped between her teeth. She gave you a nod, a few fuzzy strands of her hair falling into her vision. "Planned this yourself, didn't you?"

She nodded again, reaching for the end of the jersey and began to pull it up to her chest, revealing what you already knew. Her skin was bare. You saw her nipples harden from the cool breeze in the room and groaned again.

"My pretty girl. My wonderful darling, fuck." you laid yourself flat on your stomach after spreading her legs and your eyes were magically drawn to the wet spot against her panties.

Without hesitation, you dragged your tongue along her cloth covered sex, a needy groan leaving your lips at her taste. It was a flavor you had no issue devouring whenever she asked. You pulled her thighs farther apart, your nails digging into the flesh with another drag of your tongue. Her soft whined didn't go unnoticed, either. You raised yourself up, dragging your panties down with your teeth before sliding your hands to her pretty pussy lips.

Your thumbs carefully spread them so you could watch her walls clench around nothing. Another needy groan left you when her clit throbbed and you immediately latched your lips onto it, enjoying her squeal of surprise. Your eyes locked with hers and your own sex twitched against the mattress. Her eyes were completely fucked out- pupils swallowing irises the same way you ate her out.

Your tongue dove into her deeper expertly forcing a strangled moan from Hermione's lips. Your eyes fell half shut when your legs wrapped around your head but your tongue kept up a strong pace inside of her. Your hand not putting pressure against her clit went around to her ass, grabbing a cheek in hand and giving it a squeeze. The thumb on her clit began to draw those strong circles again and you enjoyed the way she bucked up into your face.

Her hands tugged at your hair in a feverous attempt to either get away from the onslaught of pleasure or get more. She moaned your name again with her thighs shaking around your head. You let out a moan, your own hips dragging across the sheets to give your hard on some relief, before you pulled your tongue free.

You dragged it across the folds once, twice, three times before spitting on her clit. The gasp she made was worth it. Your thumb went back to work while her head went back against the pillows. "That good, huh, darling?"

"Shut it." She moaned, her shin pulled you closer, practically forcing your face against her. You smirked against her before attaching to her clit again. It didn't take her long to cum--especially when you were humming against her. You helped her ride out her orgasm and pulled off with a chuckle once the overstimulation set in.

The only sound in the room was her frantic panting. She pulled the jersey back down and you carefully pulled her panties up after licking her clean.

"How do you do that?" Her voice was soft and winded, but it brought you joy. You smiled and kissed her knee.

"Magic, love." You did jazz hands at her, ignoring the way she rolled her eyes. You let out a giggle and sat up. If it wasn't for her pointing it out, you would've forgotten about your dick throbbing between your legs.

"Need help with that?" Hermione was already trying to put her chaotic hair into a ponytail- who were you to refuse a queen of what she wants?

"Yes, please."

-

-Taglist-

@LinkinRavenclaw

@re-blog-side-blog

@catboyazula

[duskholland]

idk if this one has been done yet, but what about getting in a fight with mob!tom and he says something that really upsets her but tries his best to make up for it because he knows he fucked up?

getting angsty on this monday, I like it! I had fun with this. I went less tom trying to make up for it and more him undergoing the biggest grovel session of his life lmao. lowkey got a bit emotional writing it fhjdhf. enjoy !! cw: angst (w a happy end)

– it’s mob monday !! –

The argument builds quickly, escalating from a minor spat to an all-out explosion in the blink of an eye. What had started out as a small grievance about Tom’s inability to make time for you had snowballed, and now you’re standing opposite him, angry tears glistening in your eyes.

“You’re being unreasonable!” You exclaim, voice coming out hard. The palms of your hands hurt from the clenching of your fingers, small crescent-moon shapes from your nails pressed into your skin. “Why won’t you just listen to me?”

Tom’s face is a deep shade of volatile red, his hair unruly and untamed from the number of times he’s run his hands through his curls. He’d abandoned his smooth-talker facade minutes ago, now fully leaning into the side of him that you only usually see when he’s around his opponents.

“I’ve tried listening to you, Y/N, but you aren’t paying attention to what I’m saying,” he says, voice staccato. He clasps his hands in front of his chest as he groans, his face the picture of frustration. “I can’t change my schedule for you, alright? If you actually paid attention to how I live my life, and the lifestyle that I lead, you’d understand that. I can’t be like all your other boyfriends. I have responsibilities that are bigger than you.”

You bring your hands to your temples, trying not to cry as you stare at him.

“I don’t want you to be like my ex-boyfriends,” you respond, “I want you to be a good boyfriend, and pay attention to me when I tell you that I miss you.” Your voice softens slightly, and your glare loses some of its ferocity. “It gets fucking lonely living in this house, Tom. For such a big mansion, there’s barely ever anyone around, and when you’re not here…” You wave a hand through the air. “I feel alone.”

“Then move out.”

Immediately, your blood runs cold. You feel your heart drop straight to your feet, and your arms fall to your side, defeated.

“What?” You croak. A fresh flood of tears well up in your eyes as you stare at your boyfriend, who’s still looking at you like you’ve done something to cause him grievous bodily harm.

“If you hate living here, and you hate dating me so much, just move out, Y/N.” Tom shoves his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “Seems to me like that’d be a good solution to your problem.”

You shake your head, in disbelief at how quickly your boyfriend of two years has pivoted.

“Are you being serious?” You say, blinking at him. “Are you actually trying to kick me out right now? Just because I care about and want to spend time with my boyfriend?”

Tom stares at the ground, and you see his jaw twitch. You give him a few seconds to say something, anything, and when he fails to do so, you stalk over to the wardrobe. It’s only when you pick up a bag and start to throw your things into it that he seems to realise how angry you are.

“What are you doing?” Tom asks, sounding panicked. He walks towards you, reaching out for you, but you move away. Your eyes sting with tears, and you feel a few stray droplets roll down your face as you shake your head.

“I’m leaving,” you mutter. Your hands shake as you sling the bag over your shoulder and go into the bathroom, picking up your toothbrush and a few other things. “Going back to my flat.”

Tom shakes his head. “Please don’t do that, love.” He sounds desperate all of a sudden, and when you glance at him in the mirror, you see he’s deflated--shoulders shrunk, eyes wide. “I… I didn’t mean it, I was caught in the moment. You don’t need to leave.” He reaches out for you again but you dodge him.

“Don’t touch me,” you mutter. You hastily pull on the zip of the bag before walking back into the bedroom. “Don’t come over either. I don’t want to see you until you’ve figured out what you want from me and what you want from this relationship.”

He trails after you, keeping a safe distance, but you can almost feel how badly he wants to reach out and take your hand.

“I love you,” Tom pleads. “Please don’t go. We can work this out together.”

You shake your head. You’re walking fast now, just glad that you’d held onto the keys of your old flat when you’d moved in with Tom.

“We need space. I need space.” You find yourself at the front door, and you turn around to stare at Tom. He flinches as he takes in the sight of the tear tracks on your cheeks, and the angry hurt in your eyes. “Just… Leave me alone, Tom.”

You turn and you leave, letting the heavy front door slam behind you.

––––––

Your first day apart passes by in a blur of anger, upset, and heartbreak. Your best friend comes over and you talk to her, well into the night, venting about everything you’ve been unable to air to Tom, given his remarkable absence from your life. It’s not that he’d been pulling away intentionally, rather, his job had taken him away from you, over and over and over again. Every time you’d brought it up casually, he’d shot you down. It was just a matter of time before it overflowed like that.

One day stretches to two, then three. Tom makes an appearance on the fourth.

You know it’s him just from the way he knocks on your front door: three strong knocks, syncopated in his favourite rhythm. You carefully, quietly, tiptoe to the door and lean up to peer through the peephole, feeling your breath hitch as you see his figure, distorted by the glass. He looks tired and unkempt, wearing a hoodie and some jeans instead of one of his suits. His hair is all over the place, and there’s a shadow of stubble grazing his chin.

“Love?” He calls out, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I know you’re there.”

You swallow, continuing to spy on him as you say nothing.

Tom sighs. “I’m so sorry, Y/N... I feel like shit. I shouldn’t have said what I said, because I didn’t mean it.” He breaks off, and you watch as he pinches at the bridge of his nose. “I know you want space, but I… I miss you. And I love you, so much. So, so, so much, love. I’ve never loved anyone this much in my life, and it’s terrifying.” He breaks off, chuckling harshly. “So I don’t know why I decided to fuck things up. Guess I’m just fucking stupid, eh?”

You rest your forehead against the door, frowning as you listen to him talk. You’ve never heard him sound so defeated before.

“Anyway, uh… I just wanted to come around and tell you that I’m sorry. I’ll never stop being sorry for what I said. I don’t want you to move out, I want you to come back.” Tom chuckles weakly. “I don’t ever want you to leave. I can’t imagine what my life would look like without you in it, so… If you want me to, I’ll give it up. I’ll give it all up.” He pauses to suck in a breath, his voice becoming thick. “We can, uh, sell the house. Move somewhere nice. Maybe get a townhouse somewhere, or, uh, a cottage, or whatever you want, darling. I could get a normal job.” He breaks off to laugh humourlessly. “Don’t know what I’d do, but… I’d do it. For you. I’d do anything for you. So… just think about it, please.”

Tom pauses, and you watch as he reaches up to rub at his eyes. His voice cracks as he adds, “I love you.” After a final repetition of the words, he sighs and steps back. “I’ll, uh, go now. Just… Know that I’m sorry. And I love you. So much.”

He turns to leave, and you suddenly realise he’s about to walk away. You reach up and rattle the chain on your door before turning the handle, throwing it open, and stepping out into the hallway. Tom turns to look at you, and you’re shocked to see his bloodshot eyes, bright red nose, and the tear tracks that stain his cheeks.

“Tom,” you say, voice gentle. “It’s… It’s okay.”

He slowly steps back towards you, moving hesitantly until you offer him your hands. You tenderly loop your fingers together, feeling his cold digits.

“It’s not okay,” Tom mumbles, looking at you with those wide brown eyes you love so much. “I was such a dick, love. I shouldn’t have said it.”

You squeeze his hands. “You shouldn’t have,” you agree, “but it’s okay.” You gently pull one of his palms to your mouth and kiss over his knuckles a few times. “I said some things I shouldn’t have too…” You sigh gently. “I miss you, Tom.”

You’ve felt it every day. A hollowness in your heart. Tom always makes your life brighter, even when he’s not around. He leaves your mug out by the kettle when he leaves every morning, and he makes sure the fridge is stocked with your favourite fruits. Tom’s the one who neatly arranges your shoes on the shoe rack by the door, and makes sure the thermostat is set right. He always tidies up the bathroom and puts your favourite teddy right in the centre of the bed, every single day. You miss his smile, and his arms, and the love he has for you that exists even when he’s not there.

“I miss you too,” he says.

He looks so fragile that you pull him in for a hug, burying your nose in his neck and inhaling the soft tones of faded cologne. Tom clings to you, his hands digging into your back and holding you firmly. You swallow as you tilt your mouth towards his ear.

“Can I come back home?” You ask. “I don’t want to do any of this without you.”

Tom hums. After a moment more, he pulls back, but he keeps his hands wrapped around you. He looks into your eyes, a very shy smile moving out over his lips.

“I would love that,” he says. “The house isn’t the same without you.”

You move your hands around his neck and kiss him very softly, feeling a part of you flicker back to life as his gentle lips nudge up against yours.

“Thank you.” You card your fingers through his hair. “I love you.”

And there’s still so much you need to talk about and work through, but Tom pushes his forehead against yours and stares at you with so much determination that you know you’ll get there, you’ll be okay. You know that he loves you.

He kisses you again, just as gently as the first time.

“Love you too, darling,” he promises. “Love you more than anything else in the world.”

[snackhobi]

pairing: jungkook x reader / word count: 7.4k / genre: pacific rim au with brief smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you.

warnings: sexually explicit content (briefly), unprotected sex (please be safe when you have sex) / reference to injuries but nothing graphic, giant robots powered by love punching big alien monsters

a/n: this is a birthday gift for the amazing @yeojaa​. happy birthday, erin. this is completely self serving and is stuffed full with inside references that I hope you’ll enjoy. I wrote this in two days and it kicked my ass because I did so much reading and researching that turned out to not even come up in the story 👁👄👁 you know when I said I was studying? I lied. I was writing HAHAHAH ily I hope you like it hhhh (this is unbeta’ed so please forgive any mistakes it’s 1:30am as I’m scheduling this) (also summaries are so hard, I’m sorry)

Jeon Jungkook really is the perfect posterboy for a Jaeger pilot.

Broad across the shoulders and trim at the waist, all sharp punches and hard muscle, resilient and tough, with a face that’s the perfect balance of angles and softness; the cut of his jaw easing up and into his pretty mouth, the line of his brows subdued by his warm eyes—he’s a Goddamn vision, raw masculinity overlaid on rich veins of boyishness, glittering stratum that sparkle and shine even under the harsh lights of the Shatterdome. 

He pouts when he thinks and his hair hangs a little in his big, big eyes and he has dimples that appear when he grins, teeth poking out onto his pretty pink lips, like someone took a rabbit and turned it into a man and packed on pounds of muscle alongside. Undeniably powerful and strong, but youthful and sweet, too.

Alongside Kim Taehyung—arresting and beautiful and somehow affable and approachable, all at the same time—they’re exactly what South Korea needs right now, propelling the country’s new look for their renewed assault against the kaiju. They’re the lucky new Rangers who’ve claimed ownership of the only Mark-5 that their homeland has produced, Bulletproof Striker, a fucking gorgeous Jaeger bristling with the latest and greatest technology that the world has produced.

But that doesn’t mean they’re the best that South Korea has to offer.

Cypher Zero is smaller, lighter, older, but she’s fierce. Just like her pilots. You and Yoongi might not be the burning beacons of hope that Jungkook and Taehyung are, polished and buffed to a squeaky shine, but you don’t need to be. You’re vicious and victorious and show no signs of stopping. The kaiju kills painted on your Mark-4’s shoulder are evidence enough of that, notches for each monster taken down, spray painted in one tiny corner of the huge swathe of burnished metal plating, the red edges of her midnight skin.

Bulletproof Striker is almost untouched, deployed just once since her recent launch, flawless exterior so at odds with Cypher Zero’s battered facade. Cypher’s beautiful, of course, but bears the history of your skirmishes, inside and out: scuffed paintwork, dented metal, rust dripping down from the ladder rungs dotted across her, melting into the obsidian of her hull. 

Jungkook and Taehyung move in a way that’s practiced, disciplined motions of combat that their Jaeger echoes in turn. Her mechanical movements reflect those of the men inside her head, skilled and superb. Stunning. But you and Yoongi? You fight dirty, violent and rough; messy bar room brawls; shattered glass and clawing hands in beer soaked backrooms, tinged sulphur yellow under dirty lightbulbs; two kids who fought against a world that was against them. 

(Two damaged people coming together in the Drift to make something even stronger than the sum of your parts.)

(Two damaged people who survived the rough hands of the Jaeger Academy, trying to take them, push them, shape them, break them.)

(Life isn’t kind. You’d learned that young, surrounded in the splintered remnants of your childhood home, the facade of family and happiness already gone, long long long ago, leaving you aching and lonely and cold. The prospect of fighting thousands of tons of alien hatred, lifting out of the depths of the uncaring, dark sea? At least you can see the kaiju coming. Broken households and loneliness? A little harder to lay your hands on.)

(But out of everything you lost, you’d gained one thing—Min Yoongi, another quiet, damaged thing, but with the biggest depths of warmth and love underneath that hard surface; your best friend, your brother-in-arms, growing alongside you, with you. Damaged kids turned bitter teenagers turned razor-edged adults, outcasts in solitude, but together. Not alone.)

(The deeper the bond, the better you fight. Falling into the Drift with Yoongi had been easy, years of tangled connection bleeding into the images that flashed across your brain. The same memories from different angles, overlaid with different emotions, undercurrents eddying under the surface that caught both of you and swept you up in its flow; the same mind, bridged by hundreds of tons of metal and technology and firepower underneath you, linked together in the silence of the Drift.)

There’s reverence, in the way these two new pilots look at you both, reverence and awe and respect alike: older Rangers, more experienced, history written across the worn edges of your Drivesuits, the paint flaking away from your battle armour, scuffs and scrapes on the once unblemished veneer; knowledge etched into the feline slant of Yoongi’s eyes, the turn of your shoulders and hips. 

You know Jungkook’s track record. You know of the endless months of assessment and sparring and psych evals and Drift tests and simulation drops that every successful Ranger has to go through, and Jungkook had trumped them all, stood atop them like a conqueror surveying his hard-won lands—gifted, talented, some even said God-touched. And yet for all this indomitable talent and skill, there’s still humility at his core, a willingness to defer with respect.

That deference is obvious whenever he sees you. Jungkook’s dark eyes will touch your own, for a moment, dark and deep and bright—and then his gaze will skitter away, cockiness and bravado dissolving into something submissive, yielding. (Shy.) You’ve watched him orbit you, the younger ranger caught in your gravity, always nearby—the Shatterdome is only so big, for its magnitude and sprawling corridors—but never broaching that final gap, that little step, into Cypher Zero’s space, Yoongi’s space, your space. Keeping himself at arm’s length.

South Korea’s golden boy, less afraid of the Kaiju than he is of his sunbaenim.

Jungkook and Taehyung are both beautiful. But you and Yoongi are less so, unapproachable in ways that the younger pilots aren’t, private and prickly, like grasping a patch of stinging nettles with bare hands, stinging and burning.

As if Jungkook isn’t terrifying and gorgeous in his own ways. As if he doesn’t shine brighter than the sun himself. Taehyung moves through the world with a thoughtless, charismatic ease that Jungkook doesn’t share—but he’s still magnetic, bold and brilliant, monstrously skilled at everything he puts his mind to, training again and again and again to get it right, get it right, get it right. 

To get it perfect. 

But there’s no level of perfectionism that can surmount the twisted, unpredictable nature of the kaiju belched forth from the breach. No matter how good you are, how strong or fast, how smart or seasoned, sometimes you still get caught in that hurricane, even in a Jaeger.

It doesn’t matter how many engines are packed into each muscle strand. It doesn’t matter how fast the pistons and levers and gears shift and move. It doesn’t matter that the pilots in her cockpit are impeccable and incredible. Under the cloak of deepest night and pouring rain, blanketed in darkness and water from the heavens above and the sea below, movement is impossible to track—and when Steelbrute rises from the waves, no one sees the kaiju coming.

Bulletproof Striker takes the hit. Jungkook and Taehyung fight back but they’re blindsided and overwhelmed, and their Jaeger falls to her knees in the churn of the Pacific Ocean, salt water crashing over her in choppy waves as Steelbrute��s merciless maw gapes wide open.

Cypher Zero is 250ft tall and weighs 1410 tons. You and Yoongi are tiny specks of organic matter in a fearsome behemoth of titanium and tungsten and graphene and circuitry, commanders of a weapon that’s the same size as a skyscraper—and yet you wouldn’t think that for how fast you move. Zero hesitation. No verbal communication. Cypher’s legs cut through endless waves and gain momentum with each crashing step that slams into the seafloor before you leap forward in a flurry of motion and Drift powered fury. 

Your motions in the Conn-Pod are ragged and incensed, your arms and legs moving in sync with Yoongi, with Cypher Zero, a snarl ripping out of your co-pilot’s usually quiet mouth as the kaiju lurches underneath you. The world narrows down to this: throwing yourself into the fray, jagged knuckles edged with plasma pummelled into Steelbrute’s skin in a scuffle that’s vicious, aggressive, until Bulletproof Striker regains her footing.

The sun is rising, grey and cold on the horizon when Steelbrute finally sinks into the sea, toxic blood flooding the water with neon blue. When you step out of the cockpit, Yoongi’s fringe is matted with sweat, and you can feel all the places the circuitry suit sticks to your skin—piloting a Jaeger is mentally and physically exhausting, every muscle and organ and bone working overtime for endless hours as you fight tooth and nail. Without the helmets in the way, there’s nothing stopping you bumping your foreheads together, heedless of the sweat slicked there; Yoongi’s hand rests at the back of your head, a familiar cradle.

“All good,” you say. Yoongi lets out a quiet bark of a laugh, rough and exhausted.

“I want a nap,” he says, like he always does, even if you’re a long way away from that, still fully suited and due to speak to the Marshalls. There are so, so many things separating you from the bliss of sleep.

One thing that’s not part of the normal routine, though, is the other pilots catching you, demanding your recognition, respectful (Taehyung) but insistent (Jungkook). You know that Yoongi doesn’t like attention or hero-worship, but there’s nothing except gratitude, here, bent heads and words of thanks. You’d saved their lives, after all. Saved their Jaeger from being torn apart, pain screaming through their own bodies of flesh and bone, connected to their metal monster. Of course they’re grateful.

You dismiss it with a hard cut of your hand.

“It’s nothing,” you say. 

You’re speaking the words you know are in Yoongi’s head—years of friendship and shared Drifts leaving his thought processes wide open to you—although you know you’re sharper than he is, harsher than he is, even, for all that he looks like the cold one from the outside. Long lashes and silken hair don’t translate to something soft and feminine and pretty, and you’re all ragged edges and rough parts, bleeding into the delivery of your words. Yoongi rounds the words in his mouth and places them into the world with a rumble of quiet strength that belies his past, but you? Your tongue is cutting and terse and drips with distrust, even when you don’t mean it to, staring at these two boys, Jungkook’s eyes so brown and large when he stares back at you.

The truth is that you care about humanity, of course. You care about humanity and you care about the millions of people in the cities that line the coasts and further inland, and you care about your fellow pilots, skilled but soft-hearted as they are. You’re stronger. You have to be. That’s what Yoongi is, that’s what you are: fighters. You fight dirty because you fight to win, not to protect yourselves. You’ll fight and you’ll die for this, for them, even if there’s no friendship there. Not yet. You’re still too distant, for all that you’d thrown yourself in the line of fire to rip the kaiju from the younger Rangers. 

And when Jungkook levels a look at you, there’s a flicker of something. A spark. All the glittering of his warm eyes comes together like the cascading sparks of molten fire that fall when metal is cut through— his eyes score through you, down down down, right to your core, underneath all the armour you’ve laid about yourself throughout your life. Your heart stutters. You’ve been watching Jeon Jungkook, and he’s all cocky Ranger bravado, or innocent brown eyes and shy, curving smiles, and yet. 

And yet. You know he sees this soft part of you, somehow. Past the thorns and sharp leaves, past the hard husk, into the rich, bursting sweetness inside, oozing red gems of pomegranate that yield so easily to the fingers and mouth.

(He’s temerarious and modest and wickedly perceptive too, it seems.)

“That was our kill,” he says suddenly. Taehyung—the voice piece of the two, the one who’s been smiling and speaking, easy and slow—goes still at his side.

“What?” Yoongi’s eyes pierce through him, but Jungkook keeps his focus on you.

“Steelbrute. Our kill. It was a hit from our rockets that took him out,” Jungkook says, eyes still glinting with that sparkling shine. Slicing through you with an explosion of light. “Not your blades.”

Silence steals over you, for a breath. It’s never truly silent in the Shatterdome, an iron fortress that never sleeps, but for a second, there’s quiet. It wraps around you. Tight. Almost deafening.

But then you break that silence.

You laugh. 

You laugh at the cheeky grin that pulls at Jungkook’s lips, the boyish lift to his face.  You laugh at his shamelessness, the sudden 180 from his earlier fear. You laugh at the way he’s diluted this astonishing, formidable thing—humanity coming together to destroy alien predators that threaten the planet—into a competition.

“You’re a menace, Jeon Jungkook,” you say.

Stinging nettles you might be, but if you’re grabbed hard and fast by confident hands, you don’t wound. Jeon Jungkook defers to respect, avoids confrontation, bows his head and quiets his mouth, but he knows, now, that he can do this. That he can push you like this, and you’ll let him, sway against it, let yourself be pushed.

Yoongi slides you a glance out the corner of his eyes, a light touch, a tacit agreement to an unspoken question.

“You can have it. Steelbrute’s yours.” There’s the smallest curl to your lips as you speak for you both. There’s something weirdly easy and familiar to this, to this interaction, even if you’ve barely exchanged words before now, giving this triumph to the other pilots hand over fist.

(Giving it to Jungkook on a platter.)

You can see the flare of triumph in Jungkook’s eyes. You know it’s not for the notch of their first kill, one they can add to their Jaeger. It’s for something far harder to achieve, something far more ephemeral: digging down and past your cool veneer and lifting out a smile, spreading it across your lips like warm butter, liquid gold.

And he keeps making you smile. 

Jeon Jungkook, you find, is a force of nature, relentless, an ocean. Sometimes he’s soft, loving waves of glittering blue that crash on pearly white beaches, playful and bright. Sometimes, he’s intense, the crashing waves of a storm tossed sea, powerful and unstoppable. Always, he’s striking, even when he’s not trying—even more so because of it, moving without thought or uncertainty, a silence settling over your thoughts whenever you see him like this. See him in this raw state, so unafraid where before he’d curbed his tongue and bent his head in front of you. Now, he’s just himself, without filter.

Taehyung is there too, of course. Both pilots join your small, fiercely private circle, not just a path from you to Yoongi any more. They become intertwining lines, a pattern that’s drawn between the four of you, pilots, friends. And you learn, that for all that you’d thought that Taehyung was the dominant one outside of their Jaeger, social and extroverted and unabashed, Jungkook isn’t quiet. Not when he’s comfortable.

(Not, now, when he’s with you.)

He’s a myriad of things, endlessly deep, so different from you, from Yoongi, but—the truth of it settles inside you, your joints, the marrow of your bones, the blood that pulses forth from your heart each time it beats in your chest, liquid life running through you. 

Drift compatibility.

Not that it matters. You already have a partner. You’re never going to open yourself up to anyone that isn’t Yoongi, who’s seen every part of you already. There’d been no fear about letting Yoongi see inside your brain, your heart, the raw, bleeding parts of you—because he’d already known them. Just like you’d known his. Yoongi stands to your right, inside the Conn-Pod and out, a driving force, even in his silence. 

But Jungkook is softer, sweeter, for all his raw power and skill, respect engraved into his every motion, even when he’s teasing and making you laugh. Even when he ignores the social guidelines that he should follow, does follow for others, everyone except you. 

And you don’t mind. You don’t bite out insults at him when he slides into the quiet hollow you’ve scraped out, a small space with just enough room for the people you keep in your heart. You’re still barbed and spiked, warding away unwanted attention, but for Jungkook, the claws retract. 

You’re still you, of course. Jungkook calls you mean, says that you bully him, even as he’s flopped across your bunk, eating your rations, shovelling coveted popcorn into his mouth. He might pout and sigh and cry oppression, but you’re soft on him and he knows it. That quiet hollow in your heart is a little larger, now, a little louder. Jungkook is brazen in his claim of this space, spreading each of his limbs wide as he fits himself into every part of it. He doesn’t know every piece of your past, and you don’t plan to let him see all the messy parts bundled in your chest, but. But he’s still there.

And you let him stay. You make a home for him inside you and let him take the key. He might tilt his head and goad you, might pretend there’s a genuine challenge in the set of his jaw, but you know it’s all tempered with admiration, veneration. Friendship.

(And where he clearly respects you, you admire him in turn. You’re reminded of your differences every second he moves and breathes and just exists in front of you, but you don’t have to be similar to someone to realise just how incredible they are.)

(But though you’re different, there are similarities. You’re not a mirrored image, a reflection, like you are with Yoongi. Instead, you’re a line drawn between two separate places, an isohel, sun lighting up your world for the same sweep of the clock even for how far apart you are. Sharing that same, tenuous thing, for all your contrasting parts.)

(This thing that’s growing, held in your hands. This soft, gentle thing, shimmering, frail, unfurling slowly but undeniably. Tinged with happiness, disbelief. Disbelief that you’ve found this, that you can see Jungkook across the echoing cavern of the Shatterdome’s main hall, so far in the distance, barely visible at the foot of his Jaeger—and something will settle in your chest. Featherlight, iridescent. Something comforting.)

When you fight the kaiju, now, it’s with a deeper reserve of desperation. Taehyung and Jungkook aren’t just fellow pilots, dongsaeng that you’re obliged to look after: they’re your friends, something more than that too, part of the rare handful of people in the world who understand, this overwhelming pressure to fight and win and protect the things you love. The people you love. They understand what it’s like to step into someone else’s head, to be connected to that person on a level that’s unfathomable, anchored in a depth of love that’s endless. You’re their aegis, now, their shield.

(Jungkook’s shield.)

Maybe that’s what’s to blame. Maybe that’s why you’re so sloppy, this time. Maybe that’s why you throw yourselves in the way of the blow that was meant for Bulletproof Striker. Maybe that’s why Ojousan shreds Cypher Zero’s chest apart, her head, why Yoongi is almost ripped from you, his fear and pain screaming through your neural connection. You feel everything he feels and more beside, your heart hammering in your throat as you scream, Jaeger’s arm swinging up and around in tandem with your own motions as you try to rip the kaiju away, anything to protect Yoongi, so scared of losing him, always always always, scared of being left alone.

But you’re not alone. 

Bulletproof Striker lifts up like an avenging angel. Her horns roar a challenge, an echoing battle cry as the younger pilots move in. Heavier and stronger, keeping her balance even in the turbulence of a fight, she takes the hits, gives back her own, sends the kaiju down into the crashing waves, waits for it to rise. But the monster is crafty and quick and even as you’re lifting your left arm—Yoongi’s hurt, so hurt, you know this, feel this, but he moves with you to ready the plasma cannon buried in the mechanics of your Jaeger’s hand, even if he’s keening with pain—you watch as the other pilots, too, fall victim to the clawed tail of the kaiju, screeching through layers of alloys and across their Conn-Pod.

Terror strikes through every part of you and morphs into hate. You hate the kaiju, hate your own weakness, hate the pain that’s been saved from being written into your own body while Yoongi screams and sobs even though he still fights. Your motions are anguished and desperate as you battle to overcome this beast that’s almost taken away everything that matters to you—and Cypher Zero, Yoongi, as damaged and hurt as they are, come through. (Like they always do, for you, always.)

And somehow, despite everything, for all the self-hatred and pain and fear, you pull through. You pull through. Damaged and hurt but alive.

Barely.

Barely alive. 

(One hand gives, the other takes away.)

It takes hours for them to pick Yoongi’s Drivesuit from his body, crumpled around him from Ojousan’s claws, cutting into the soft flesh of his body, body ruined further by the fighting he’d been forced into despite his injuries; so many of Taehyung’s bones are shattered, and when you finally see him awake and with his eyes open, there are burst blood vessels that cast red across the usually warm expression, his friendly eyes.

You should be grateful that they’re alive. You should be on your hands and knees, weeping, benedictions dripping from your graceless mouth as you thank whatever merciless God above decided to turn their gaze on you and grant you this leniency. So many pilots have died and will continue to die, you know this, but somehow your partners are still alive.

And you are grateful. You are. But there’s bitterness on your tongue, twisted across your palate, sour and acrid and filling you with its taste. You’d been foolish and reckless and you’d almost lost the things you cared about most, even if you’d destroyed the kaiju, torn it apart and left its fluorescent indigo blood to corrode the ocean. 

That’s what’s important, isn’t it. Saving humanity. One person, two people, four people—you’re the tiniest cogs in a whirring engine of billions. Unimportant. Just a spinning part that keeps the machine going.

When you’re not with Yoongi or Taehyung, an unmoving presence from their hospital beds, a hovering gargoyle carved from stone, you’re with Jungkook. Always, always, always. Somehow you’d both escaped without the injuries inflicted on your partners—you’d manage to break your little finger, and Jungkook had a black eye and a twisted ankle, and the both of you had mottles of bruises cast across your skin, pulled muscles, an ache carved into your bones, but that was it. That was it. It was almost laughable, how unscathed you are.

You hate it.

(It should have been you.)

Your legs—unbroken, unharmed—hang over steel scaffolding, motionless as you watch the tiny specks of people scuttling across the catwalks that criss-cross Cypher Zero’s body. You can see under her skin, damage peeling back all the layers of metal that should be holding her together. Endless showers of sparks fall and scatter as she’s stitched back together. Your beautiful girl is so damaged, so disfigured.

(You’d caught Yoongi as he’d fallen from the harness, listened to the horrible noises that had torn out of his lips as he’d dripped blood and pain over your shaking hands.)

The bland food you’d scraped off your dinner tray settles fitfully in your stomach, still one second, nausea bubbling up your throat the next. 

It’s one of the rare times you’ve been alone, since… since everything. You’ve been taking comfort in Jungkook’s presence, unwavering and understated, needing someone there when staring at Yoongi’s battered face proved too much. Even with his own upheaval Jungkook’s been there, at your side, always close. Eyes locked on you and taking everything in, the tired set to your face, the expression that tugs down your lips, and still, he stays.

But he’d disappeared after you’d eaten, a peculiar look on his face—you know him well enough now to recognise that look, that it means he’s got something in his head, some plan he means to unfold. It’s the first time you’ve seen it since Taehyung had been pulled out of the Conn-Pod. It’s some semblance of normality, an expression of something other than pale-faced dread and bone-shivering guilt. 

(You feel it too, that survivor’s guilt. Taehyung and Yoongi will recover but it’ll take time and so much suffering and you wish you could take that from them, heft that burden onto your own shoulders.)

(You know Jungkook feels the same.)

(You see it written in the tense lines of his body. Hear it unspoken in the words he shares with you. The bruises on his skin melt from red to purple to blue to yellow, but even if his body heals, his brain and heart bear the scars of helplessness.)

Jungkook reappears, finds you at the heavy steel door that leads into your room, rusted and worn but silent as it swings open in front of you. His eyes are wide and he’s breathless, like he’s been running, chest heaving as he sucks in air through his parted lips, a flash of teeth and tongue as he smiles.

Despite everything, you smile back. Helpless for that smile, always, happier now for the sight of it, for how little you’ve seen it. You want to see that smile every day. You don’t want him to worry for anything. You want him to feel the same way you do, when you see him: that quiet, maybe selfish thought that things are okay. 

Maybe he does. (His eyes are so warm.) He presses something into your hands, something soft and round like a well-practised secret, and then he’s gone. You can tell by the gait of his stride that he’s going back to Taehyung, giving you a moment of lonely reprieve to wash the grime and dirt off your useless body before you follow in his footsteps, stationed at Yoongi’s side.

The door swings shut behind you.

You lift your hand.

It’s an orange.

It’s a small, overripe thing, hard nub of the stem falling away from the skin with only the lightest brush of your fingers. You stare at the fruit, its brightness cutting through the muted sepia tones of your surroundings, a point of colour in an otherwise dull room.

You haven’t seen an orange in months. Rationing is tough on everyone, even Jaeger pilots. You’d mentioned in passing, so long ago, an old habit of yours. Before something else floated above it, more important and interesting, you’d made a fleeting statement that had flitted across the surface of the conversation: you liked eating oranges in the shower. Liked that nice, cool citrus sweetness in your mouth while the rest of your body was caught in the fall of warm water.

It’s such a small, tiny thing. Just the briefest lament—there are more important things than the fact you can’t have shower oranges any more, after all—and you’d forgotten you’d even mentioned it.

But Jungkook hadn’t.

It’s almost syrupy sweet, this orange. You savour each slice, pressing them between your teeth, feeling the rush of juice burst forth through the pith and skin, and it’s so good you could cry. 

You do cry.

Your mouth is full of orange and your eyes are full of tears and your head is full of—of—something, something so all encompassing that it overwhelms you, water cascading down the aching planes of your body as you crumple inwards. Jungkook had protected you with the overwhelming power of Bulletproof Striker, and he’s protecting you now, soft and considerate and kind, vulnerable and human. Stripped of tons of metal and technology, Jungkook wears his beating heart on his sleeve and is none the weaker for it. 

This seemingly small thing means so much, so so so much. You understand him, and he understands you too, knows that this gesture is indicative of support and care and nurturing, a tiny fragment of peace he can offer you in the tumult of everything out of your control. 

A tiny fragment of peace that’s part of a greater whole, all the things that Jungkook gives to you.

When the Marshalls gather you and tell you the plan going forwards, you’re unsurprised. 

It makes sense, of course. Four pilots down to two still leaves a pair, and Bulletproof Striker is nearly functional even if Cypher Zero will stay out of commission while she’s rebuilt. Simple maths. One Jaeger, two pilots. You and Jungkook.

You’re scared.

You know you’re Drift compatible. Every fight in the Kwoon Combat Room is evidence enough of that. A dialogue, each challenge is meant to be a dialogue to show physical compatibility, and it is: there’s perfect sync in how you each move to strike, even if your motions are so different, muscles burning and breaths coming faster each time you attack, parry, strike, block. It’s not about winning or losing. It’s a conversation, one that you and Jungkook fall into without thought.

And he would be the perfect partner. That much isn’t in doubt. Loyal and open and strong, honourable and brave and kind—and you know him, have grown to learn so much about this golden boy, this bright, brilliant boy. He’s fucking indomitable and anyone would be lucky to find themselves in the same Jaeger as Jeon Jungkook.

But there are no secrets in the Drift. 

To let someone in, you have to trust them. And you do, you do trust Jungkook, probably far more than makes sense, some unspoken thing between you burning like a wildfire. But while you trust him, confident in his strength and his heart, you trust yourself less.

You’ll be flayed open, naked and defenceless. He’ll see right to the core of you, every dirty corner of your crumpled soul, every shameful part of your foundations, uneven brickwork layered into your shaky temperament; strong one second, weak the next. He’ll see that you’re hard inside, too, biting and acidic right down to your shrivelled heart. This nascent thing that you’ve been building with Jungkook, been keeping safe in the cradle of your careful hands, will sputter out and die.

“Baby.”

Yoongi’s voice is comforting, a familiar rumble that rolls through your ears as you rest your head in his lap.

“And I mean that you’re literally being a baby,” he continues, and you curl your lip back from your teeth in a small snarl, menacing.

Yoongi just continues to thread his hands through your hair.

You’ve Drifted with Yoongi often and long enough to know how every thread of thought unspools in that skull of his. You know he has every confidence in the unshakeable pillar of your soul. He’s a brother to you, a connection that thrums deep in your veins even without the intimacy of the Drift, and the love you hold for him is undying and true.

But whatever you have with Jungkook is so timorous in the face of that.

“It’s different.” Yoongi looks down at the twist of your face. You know his thoughts and he knows yours too, your face and heart an open book to him. “But different isn’t bad.”

You keep your mouth shut, keep the words swallowed down in your throat, shoved down to the pit of your stomach. Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

“Baby,” he says again, softer, lower. This time, you know it’s an endearment. 

At the end of the day, no matter what fear grips cold and endless at your insides, you’ll do it. You’ll Drift with Jungkook. You’ll throw everything you have into the pyre, watch it burn and turn to ash, if it means you can keep everyone safe. To save Yoongi, Taehyung, Jungkook—you’ll open yourself up to the mortifying ordeal of opening up, laying yourself bare. You have to.

It’s chaotic, anyway. The day that your practice Drift is scheduled is the day the next kaiju rises out of the breach, that dreaded rift between our world and theirs, because why would you be allowed to breathe, even for a second?

It’s a scramble into the cockpit. There’s no time for trial runs or test Drifts. You fly or you fall. Everyone’s in a state of orderly upheaval as you’re suited up and left to stride forwards into a Conn-Pod that isn’t yours, in a Jaeger that isn’t yours.

(Left to stride forwards to stand next to someone who isn’t yours.)

Your Drivesuit is grey. Jungkook’s is white. There’s a subtle hologramatic sheen laid across the planes of his armour, leaving him a multicoloured vision that shines out under the flicker of the cockpit’s endless tiny buttons and lights. Your own suit is a matte, gunmetal with accents of burning scarlet, far more battered and worn. Dark and wild in the face of Jungkook’s radiance. He’s the perfect answer to the kaiju invasion. You, though, feel like an interloper in a space that wasn’t designed for you, this circle room that’s been home to Jungkook and his true, real partner. 

But he’s looking at you like there’s no one else he’d rather have by his side. 

He doesn’t care that everything about this moment just cements how he’s too good for you in every conceivable way, elevated above you. Doesn’t care that you’re just a temporary stop gap. There’s trepidation, of course, skittering nerves that dance across his face for this first Drift, surrounded by all the commotion that’s swallowing the world up outside the cockpit. But there’s also that fire in his eyes, one you’ve learned to expect: Jungkook is a wildfire and will surmount any obstacle in a blaze of white-hot light.

And he wants you along for the ride.

(Burns bright for it.)

“You ready?” He asks, and the tiny tremor in his words takes you off guard even as it soothes a balm over the rash of apprehension that prickles across your skin.

(Because he’s nervous, too.)

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer, truly.

His eyes crinkle into a smile, crescents of happiness as his lip peels back from his teeth. It should be jarring, seeing his sweet bunny smile in the pit of a Jaeger, so at odds with the military polycarbonate that girds his body with protection, the masculine edges of his face—but it’s not. The world is just a backdrop to Jeon Jungkook, dropping away as you fall into his eyes, twinkling stars of brightness and warmth that hold you safe, even now.

Peace and contentment steals over you. You’re almost shocked by it, the way your own face softens into a smile, the rising beat of your heart. Every ragged messy edge in you is smoothed over by Jungkook’s presence and you glow for him.

When the Conn-Pod drops, there’s the familiar weightlessness, the sway of your body in the harness as you fall. Anticipation roils through you as Bulletproof Striker’s head locks into place, whirring mechanisms securing you to nearly 2000 tons of metal, so much heavier than your own Jaeger. You’ve taken Jungkook’s usual place and he’s taken Taehyung’s, the right hemisphere, the dominant pilot, familiar with this machine in a way you’re not.

Not yet, at least.

“We’ve got this.”

Jungkook’s voice cuts through the noise, the AI talking at you, a narration of events you’ve long grown used to. You turn your head to look at him. He’s already looking at you, intent and sincere. Like always.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, we have.”

There’s no point being afraid. In a few seconds, Jungkook will be in your head, washing over every part of you—and you’ll be in his, pressing your ethereal touch into every facet that comes together to make Jeon Jungkook who he is.

Seconds pass. There’s a little hitch in his breath, a stiffness to his limbs, and he shuts his eyes. You breathe in deep, deep, deep, sucking in a harsh breath into your greedy lungs—

—the timer hits zero—

—and then the Drift slams into you all at once, all encompassing and consuming, threading your minds together.

(Drifting with Yoongi is easy, the familiarity of coming home after so much time away.)

(But this?)

(This is throwing yourself into a cold lake on a hot summer’s day, bracing and refreshing and breath-stealing all at once, shocking life into every one of your limbs, so sharp and fast you’re scared you might drown before you breach the surface, water holding onto you and not letting you go. This is driving reckless and fast down empty roads, watching the world pass you in a blur, laughing in delight at the pleasure of it all. This is scaling a cliffside with nothing but your own hands and determination, digging your fingers into the unyielding rock, pulling yourself up-up-up, never letting yourself fall.)

(This is having Jungkook beside you. This is having Jungkook diving into the lake with all the grace of an Olympian before he rises to the surface, tosses his hair carelessly out of his face, and spits a mouthful of water at you with laughter in his eyes. This is having Jungkook behind the driver’s wheel, shifting gears without thought, looking away from the road to watch the way your hair dances in the wind. This is having Jungkook climbing beside you, waiting for you at the top, holding a hand out to pull you up and over so you can sprawl out beside him, exhausted and exuberant at the top of this mountain, basking in the sun with Jungkook just a hair’s breadth away from you.)

(He takes one look at you. He takes one look at all the dark of your memories, the cascading mess of your insides, the hidden things that are open to him in the Drift, cut open and peeled back for his gaze—and he doesn’t look away.)

(He sees everything, past skin and muscle and bone and nerves, even deeper, right into your heart—)

(—all the torrents that eddy the deep waters of your soul—)

(—and he doesn’t look away.)

(He doesn’t look away.)

(Can’t look away.)

(Doesn’t want to.)

(Never wants to.)

(Jeon Jungkook takes one look at you, your whole being, and he knows you.)

(And he doesn’t want you any less.)

It’s just a second, a flicker, a breath, this first connection in this Drift, falling into each other. But it’s also a lifetime, two lifetimes, four lifetimes; your memories, Jungkook’s memories, Yoongi’s memories in yours, Taehyung’s memories in Jungkook’s. Layers and layers and years and years piled over one another, a tumbling sprawl—but it’s easy. It’s easy, so easy, Jungkook seeing you, you seeing him, everything he is, everything you are, everything you are to each other, with each other, for each other. The important things. The things you need to know to navigate this together, in sync even before now, reading each other to a level neither had even realised.

And when you’ve killed the kaiju. When you’ve walked Bulletproof Striker back to shore, brought her back to the Shatterdome, back home, it doesn’t end. You lift out of the Drift, step out of your Drivesuits, as different as they are (as different as you are), and it doesn’t end. 

Jungkook’s eyes linger, as heavy as a physical touch, and even as congratulations for a successful drop are bandied about you, he doesn’t leave your side. He keeps his hand against yours—not intertwined, but brushing, the curl of his fingers against your own. Touching. You’re not the protector here. He’s protecting you, in a way that doesn’t leave you feeling inferior or weak. You feel soft and warm and small and safe, pulled inexorably towards him, supported, buoyed up, and you don’t feel selfish for it.

Because he wants this.

He wants to be your comfort and your support.

He doesn’t want it to end.

(You don’t want it to end.)

And when you finally break away from those crowds, released from the shackles of responsibility and expectation—when you’re finally left alone, the two of you with each other, there’s no hesitation when you come together.

He lays you out beneath him and has you sobbing, back arching into the pleasure he draws out of your body, playing you like a maestro. Because he knows you, after all. He knows exactly how to trail his lips across your skin, your neck and stomach and thighs, painting marks across your body like it’s his personal canvas. He knows exactly how to have you twisting underneath him, how to pull those pretty sounds from your lips, fucking you with his fingers and his tongue until you’re a shaking mess. He kisses you sweet, merciless, letting you claw at his skin as you beg for more, more more more, wanting it, needing it, wanting him, needing him.

And you know he’ll give it to you. He’ll give himself to you, give you everything you ask for. You know how he wants to see you fall apart and you know how to move your body to have him gritting his teeth and staring in awe. You know how desperate he is to worship you, to show you his adoration and reverence, and you open up for him, unfurl like a flower, dripping nectar. When he finally presses into you, hot and long and thick, it’s so good you could cry. You draw him in-in-in, into your body and arms and heart, pressing your lips to the sweat at his brow, the taste of skin and salt and Jungkook bursting across your tongue.

There’s no Drift here, no curl of memories and unspoken thoughts between you. It’s physical and human, the crash of your bodies against each other, skin on skin, the thrust of his cock pressing into the dripping folds of your cunt. It’s the other half of that connection, the final piece, this thing you have with Jungkook, this perfect balance you have with him. It sears itself across your body and into your soul: it’s pleasure and passion and devotion carved into each touch of your lips and fingers, each roll of your hips, each time Jungkook makes you cum, gasping for him.

When he’s finally come apart inside you, spilling into your willing heat as you shake beneath him, arms and legs wrapped around his body as you pull him as close as you can, unwilling to let go—it still doesn’t end. You’re so wrapped up in Jungkook, in his arms, his heart, and you know he won’t let you go, either. He presses his lips against yours, chases those kisses, quiet and chaste to open-mouthed and dirty as the mood takes you, and then Jungkook rolls over you again, a spark in his eyes as he decides he’s still hungry for you.

You know, now, that all that time ago, when you carved that space for him into your chest, he’d done the same for you. He’d laid his heart at your feet and waited there, kneeling, for you to accept it, patient and willing. Staring at you with all the deep love you never thought you deserved, never thought you’d receive. But here he is. Here he is, love burning in his dark brown eyes. Eyes that have seen all the damaged, aching parts of you and love you anyway.

“I’m yours.”

Jungkook shines so bright at your words, a supernova of joy. His smile is so wide and his gaze is so soft, for you, for you, for you.

“Everything I am is for you,” he murmurs, letting the words curl into the air, settle across your skin, sink deep inside your chest. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel this touch of him inside you, wrapped around your heart.

And when you lift your hands, he comes so easily. He presses his cheek into the curve of your fingers, lets you hold him, lets you cup those lovely cheeks in your palms.

“I love you,” he says.

Right now, in this instant, there’s nothing but him. No kaiju, no Jaegers, no crumbling world, nothing. There’s only him, and you, together.

“I love you too,” you reply—and when you smile, gentle and tender, Jungkook falls in love all over again.

Burns bright for you.

[mmvalentine]

Perfect | Jurdan

Post QoN smut. Again.

My name is Jude and I am the Queen of Elfhame.

That is an achievement of my own making and not one I was simply born into, and this is a fact I am proud of. By my own skill I have become just as clever, just as quick, and just as wicked as any of them.

And still there are days when I can’t stand them. Any of them.

It makes me so angry, and if I am perfectly honest that is more because I think this is my greatest remaining weakness. That despite the crown I wear and the throne I sit on, the things that I cannot achieve prickle at me like a protruding bone in my corset.

Worst of all of them is Cardan.

For the most part, our marriage delights me. Surprising, for the both of us, but true. The power and the rule, I always knew I wanted, and always knew I was ready to wield. What I did not expect was to rush from the throne room every night, out of breath despite having been seated for the better part of the evening, desperate for Cardan’s hands on me. The fact that he reacts the same way to me makes me delirious.

And yet some days, not often but irritatingly strong, comes the remembrance that even now, there was something not equal about us. Even though there are many hard-won parts of myself that I love, there are some that I can’t help but at best be conscious of and at worst despise.

Today is such a day.

It’s a little thing, really. A stupid and insignificant thing that pushes me over the edge.

A lord from a distant court has come to visit Elfhame and pay his respects to the King and Queen. Nothing unusual; he comes bearing gifts of his land. Baskets of enormous, fat cherries the colour of ox blood for me. Garnets that match the size and shine of them. Garlands of white flowers I have never seen before. And for Cardan, the most beautiful fae girl I have ever seen.

She peeks out at us from long, thick lashes, while her snowy hare-ears fall behind her to her waist. She wears a pearl coloured dress cut to reveal triangles of milky skin around her torso, and the slit up the side shows of legs that go on forever. Her pale, heart-shaped face is dusted with golden freckles, and her large, liquid eyes are wholly black.

“What’s this?” Cardan asks softly.

“For you, my King,” the lord says.

“And what am I to do with her?” Cardan asks. The lord gives a grin that is all teeth.

“What ever you like, my King.”

“I see,” is all Cardan says, and with a wave the lord is escorted out. Cardan sighs, and says to the girl, “I have no need of your services, you may return home or make a living here, I care not.”

The girl blinks several times, opens her mouth, then thinks better of it. She makes a small bow, and then steps back into the crowd.

I sorely wish I could say that is the end of it. That I think of her no more, that I go back to our room and gorge on the mammoth cherries until the juice runs down my chin and my husband licks me clean.

But instead I find myself watching her move through the crowd. Shy at first, but of course fae flock to her and her delicate beauty. I watch her laugh and demure, I watch her shift in her seat so that her dress rides further up and her knee brushes someone else’s. Within the hour she, three male fae and one female have risen and are looking for the darker corners of the hall.

And I remember that it has never, never been that easy for me.

I wonder if any of her lovers know her name. I wonder if her lord had thought Cardan unsatisfied with his notoriously mortal bride. I wonder if Cardan thinks she’s beautiful.

Of course Cardan thinks she’s beautiful, she’s objectively gorgeous. In that fae way, in that ethereal, untouchable, undeniable way. In a way I will never be, and it used to bother me growing up around beautiful creatures until I ruled them. And now it only bothers me on days like today.

“Let’s go,” I say to Cardan, and abruptly stand. Cardan raises an eyebrow, but does not ask questions as he follows my lead. I take us out of the throne room and back to our bedroom, and I can’t help but close the door a little too firmly.

Cardan leans back against the door with his arms folded. I take his hands and pull them away, placing them on my backside instead as I step into his chest and put my mouth on his throat.

The thing I like most about being with Cardan is that he is always ready for me. He doesn’t ever tell me to slow down, or look caught by surprise. And this time, like any time, he just chuckles and lets his head fall back against the door as his hands squeeze my ass and my tongue finds the soft part under his jaw. When I suck against his skin, he moans slightly, and when he hardens against my lower abdomen, satisfaction curls in my belly. Even though he can’t lie, it’s his body I believe more than anything.

Tell me I’m pretty, I want to beg, but I won’t let myself say the words out loud. I feel pathetic for wanting it, and that makes me angry, and the anger bleeds through my teeth where they touch his ear. Cardan growls, and in the next second he’s got a fist tight in my hair so my head is pulled back away from him.

“Sharp tonight, my Queen,” he says, eyes glittering darkly. He walks me back toward the bed, not letting go of his grip on my hair.

“I just thought,” I say, my chin lifted even as my hands pull at the fastenings of his trousers, “that I would remind you who you belong to.” Cardan smirks.

“What, jealous my love?” he says, a sneer twisting his face. I slap him hard, hating the accusation as much as I hate that it is true. Cardan snarls and pushes me back against the bed. I try to sit up but his hand whips out, grabbing a hold of my throat and pushing me back down. His body follows, and then his face is inches from mine and the weight pinning me down is everything that I need.

“You are jealous,” he says and suddenly his face gets so soft. Still, he doesn’t lift his hand from my throat.

In fact he only moves his forefinger to pull down my bottom lip, and then squeezes while his other hand slides up my thigh and pushes my skirts up. He keeps eye contact with me as he takes his cock and runs his hand over it a few times. Looks down at his finger hooked in my mouth, looks back up at my eyes.

“Don’t you know by now that you’re mine,” he says huskily, and then pushes hard inside me.

We both gasp as out hips meet. I’m wet from being choked, and before I have time to reflect on that, Cardan’s kissing me. He releases my throat only to tangle his fingers in mine and trap my hands above my head. I sigh into his mouth, and Cardan moves out and then back into me with a slow roll of his hips that has mine stuttering beneath him.

“Sweet fucking god you feel good Jude,” he moans, and moves again. He’s so slow and deliberate that I feel every inch of him, and already the angry thing in me is being soothed and being replaced by something else. Something wilder, and hungrier. I lift my hips to meet him, getting more skin contact. Cardan groans and licks up the my throat. When he kisses me again, I let his tongue slide against mine for only a minute before I’m biting hard against his lip, and the pain of it has him shuddering. He laughs softly, and then ducks his head to nip at my nipple in retaliation. I give a little yelp, and he moves and bites the other one before it turns into a sucking kiss.

“Do you know how perfect you are?” Cardan murmurs, and his hips speed up while he stares down at me. My eyes slide closed, and I arch my back to get him deeper, since my wrists are still pinned above me and I can’t touch him.

“Not perfect like you,” I say, breathless now. “Not perfect like fae.”

“And all the more beautiful for it,” he says, and now when he kisses my breasts he is not biting but reverent, gentle even as his hips between my legs are landing harder with every stroke.

Finally, Cardan lets my hands go, and I can’t touch enough of him. I reach for his back, his hair, his backside, and finally lace my fingers together behind his neck. He curves one hand around a breast, and the other lifts my ankle to his shoulder as his forehead presses against mine and he moves deeper inside me. His tail tightens almost painfully around my calf.

“It’s you Jude,” he says, breathing heavily now. “You’re the only one who does this to me.” He presses his thumb to my clit as his hips jerk more erratically. “You’re the most.. the most perfect thing I…” the words fall away from his lips as he starts to pound into me in earnest, and my nails dig into the back of his neck as the world begins to dip away from me.

“Tell me,” I gasp, already knowing what he is saying but needing to hear it still. I have a stupid, fickle human heart and I always need to hear it from Cardan. He bites his bottom lip between his teeth as he conjures the coherence to form words.

“The most perfect thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, his eyes unfocused now as pleasure nips at our heels. “The most perfect thing… I’ve ever held in my hands.”

Cardan’s thumb moves in tight circles and the coil low in my belly aches. “Are you mine, Cardan?” I ask him, desperately now.

“Of course,” he pants. “Always yours. Only yours.” And that is the chant that is lifeblood to my veins and the salt in my tears. I blink them away as they come, and Cardan puts his fingers in my mouth and lips to my ear.

“Come for me, pretty villain,” he whispers, and just like that, I do.

I come hard while his cock is still sliding in and out of me, and his hands hold me down and teeth stroke my skin. My moan snags on the tears in my throat, and when I think I am slowing down, Cardan comes too, and it makes his hips punch forward so hard that I’m coming all over again because all I really want is for him to want me this much.

****

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish @story-scribbler @thebonecarver @realbookloverproblems

[berrynarrybanana]

Me and You Together

A/N: Hello! I would like to say first of all that ^ is not my gif. I had it saved on my computer from somewhere and it just felt perfect for this. I do love my little sweet pea and frat boy Harry, but I also feel like I’ve done them dirty in this fic. I wanted to add more angst, but we all know I’m shit at that kind of stuff bc I’m soft at heart. Anywho, I really hope that you enjoy this and I just want to thank the lovely @stellarboystyles​ for putting together this little fic challenge. Congrats on 3 years babe! I hope that you like this story and that I have done this celebratory moment justice! 

Word Count: 11.9 k 

Warnings: Alcohol, smut, pining, Louis being a dickhead, a mean roommate

Trope: Best Friends to Lovers with Frat Boy Harry 

Prompt: “Just sit on my fingers. Yeah, just like that.” (this is all the way at the end tbh, just a heads up lol) 

P.s I know nothing about frat’s honestly and I just tried to avoid that the best that I could but fratboy!h lives in my mind rent free and I wanted to write it so....yeah.

September

Piper’s POV 

I rolled my head back on my neck, looking up at the ceiling as my roommate sighed. 

“Has anyone told you that you’re a selfish bitch?” Carli asked, her perfectly manicured nail resting on the cheap, wooden door of our dorm room. “I’m trying to unwind and relax after an extremely hard week and you’re ruining it for me.” 

“I live here too!” I felt my brows pull together in frustration as I adjusted my bag on my sore shoulders, shifting from foot to foot. “The least you can let me do is come in and change before you start fucking.”

“You’re killing my mood!” She groaned, holding her hand out. “Give me your fucking bag and tell me what you need.” 

“Carli-”

“Tell me what you need or I’m shutting this door in your face, I swear to god.” She snapped, her brows arching up as she wiggled her fingers at me. “You have five seconds.” 

“Fine!” I said, shrugging my bag off my tired shoulders. “I need my purse, a black t-shirt, and a jacket.” 

“Great.” 

She slammed the door in my face, flicking the lock as I brushed my hands over my face angrily. 

College was not supposed to be like this. 

The next four years of my life were meant to be spent making new friends and partaking in fun activities on campus. So far, the only person I knew was Carli and she most definitely hated my guts with a burning passion. I wasn’t sure why she hated me so much when I mainly kept to myself, hunched over my desk with headphones on for most of the night when I studied. I hardly ever talked to Carli besides the odd argument about my typing being too loud and my presence being too...obvious. I hated every second of college so far and this wasn’t helping me at all. 

I was moments away from having a breakdown, the build up creeping up my throat as I stood there in the hall, waiting for Carli as everyone else stared at my back. I tried not to let their prying eyes bother me, but I could feel the hairs standing up on the back of my neck as I crossed my arms over my chest. I tried to distract my mind, thinking about where I was going to go while Carli got her rocks off in our shared room. Maybe the library? Maybe a cafe?

Just as I started listing off cafes in my head, the door opened just a crack. 

“Here’s your stuff, don’t come home before midnight.” She stuck a hand out, her voice muffled by the door. I rolled my eyes, grabbing my things from her hands. “Bye, Pippi!”

“It’s Piper, you unbearable asshole.” I sighed, holding my stuff close to my chest as frustrated tears started to accumulate behind my eyes. “I hope you don’t have an orgasm.” 

I turned on my heels, ready to storm towards the communal bathroom so I could change and collect myself before leaving. I only made it halfway down the hall when I heard someone shouting behind me. I wasn’t sure they were actually calling out for me until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I stopped in my tracks, sniffling as I reached up to wipe at my cheeks. 

“Piper, hold on.” The girl who was calling my name stepped in front of me, letting out a shuddery breath. She only had eyeshadow on one of her perfectly shaped eyes and a makeup brush in her hand as she stopped. “I just wanted to say that I am so sorry your roommate just did that to you. You can use my room to change if you’d like? I know the communal bathroom doesn’t always offer the most privacy and my roommate is never home. I’ll stand outside and everything!” 

“You don’t have to do that.” I sniffled before offering her a forced smile. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with teasing right now. “But thank you.” 

“I insist.” Her brown eyes looked softer as she spoke, her hand falling to her side. “My name is Eleanor. I think we have Modern English together.” 

“Piper.” I said. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I don’t mind it at all, babes.” 

Eleanor left me in her room to get dressed, politely standing outside as I collected myself. 

I took a few deep breaths, trying to compose myself as I stripped out of the blouse I had been wearing all day. I pulled my black t-shirt on, huffing when I realized that this wasn’t the one I actually needed. This one was meant for darker jeans and a pair of heeled boots. This top was meant for parties and bars, not a cafe. The criss crossed pattern was far too fancy for a late night cup of coffee and a lonely piece of cheesecake. 

When I opened the door, my old shirt bundled up in my hand, I smiled at Eleanor. 

She looked over my outfit, her eyes growing wide. 

“You look great!” She said. “Do you have plans tonight?” 

“I was just gonna go to Fitz and Co for coffee and dessert.” I gave her a nervous chuckle, clutching my old shirt in my hands. “Probably going to wander around campus after to kill time.” 

“Don’t take offense,” She gave me a sweet smile, her accent growing thicker with each word she spoke. I hadn’t noticed it all that much before when my emotions were on overdrive and my mind was swirling with anger. “But that sounds absolutely dreadful and you deserve to have a little bit of fun. It’s Friday night for fuck’s sake and we’re in Uni!”

“I don’t really know anyone on campus.” I shrugged. “I’ve not made a ton of friends yet, you know?” 

“I do, actually.” She nodded. “If I had to say, you’re the first person I’ve tried to make conversation with since I’ve been here. I’m going to a party tonight because my boyfriend’s frat is hosting it, and he’ll just text me all night if I don’t go.”

“That sounds like fun.” I said. “Thank you for helping me out and offering me your room. I really hope you have fun tonight."

“Why don’t you come with me?” She asked. “I know frat parties sound horrible after all the stuff you see in films, and a lot of them are pretty shit, but I would love to have a drinking buddy.” 

“I don’t want to impose.” I said. “I’m sure you want to spend time with your boyfriend.”

“Nonsense, he sees me everyday.” She shook her head. “I would love to have someone to chat with that isn’t one of his football friends from back home.” 

“Um, okay.’” I shrugged. “I guess that’s not too horrible and I kind of owe you one.”

“You won’t regret it.” 

                                         🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

“So the house shouldn’t be too crowded.” Eleanor pulled her flannel tighter around her body, hunching over as the wind whipped around us. “A few of the guys are still out getting alcohol and people aren’t supposed to start showing up for another hour at least.”

“That’s good.” I nodded. “So why did you decide to come to school here?”

“Louis.” She said. “I couldn’t stomach the idea of being away from Lou and there are so many opportunities in America for both of us. He’s here on a footie scholarship and I’m here on a performing arts scholarship.”

“That’s really cool!” I exclaimed, my eyebrows raising up. “I didn’t peg you for a theatre nerd.”

“Just a tiny one.” She chuckled. “I’m more into the costumes than anything. Fashion has always owned my heart and my Mum took me to so many musicals as a girl. I figured I would combine my love for both and make it my career.”

“I admire that.” I said softly, glancing down at the sidewalk as we turned a corner. “So how long have you and Louis been together?”

“Four years.” She smiled. “We met on a holiday to London one summer and we’ve never let go of each other. Last year we went to the same University for our first year before deciding to come abroad and it was….magical.”

“He sounds lovely.” I said. “He makes you happy?” 

“He does.” She nodded, her lips pursing slightly as she tried to hide her smile. “He’s a proper gentleman, even when he’s being a bit too laddie.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” I chuckled and Eleanor joined in. “What is a laddie? Is that like Lassie, the dog?”

“Not like that dog.” She scrunched up her nose. “I think you call them ‘Bro’s’ over here.” 

“Ah, I do understand then.” 

Eleanor and I continued chatting as we walked down Frat Row. 

The houses were large, but they looked a little plain and rundown. I imagine having a group of rowdy, drunk boys living in a house without supervision didn’t do well for wear and tear on a house. Eleanor told me that the last house on frat row in the cul-de-sac belonged to pretty much the entire footy team with a few odd guys sprinkled in. 

When we arrived, my jaw nearly dropped to the ground. 

I was living in a tiny dorm room and these men were living like kings and a gigantic and modern house that looked brand new. Eleanor laughed as I took in the dark, blue-grey exterior. The shutters and the porch were both painted a dark, charcoal grey. We walked up the stairs and I continued to look around like a kid lost in a candy store. 

Maybe joining a sorority wasn’t a bad move?

“So, that is the living room and just down that first hall is the bathroom. I recommend going upstairs to Louis’ room if you want to use a clean and unoccupied bathroom.” She chuckled. “I’ll show you around upstairs later if you’d like.”

“This is the cleanest Frat house I’ve ever seen in my life.” I said slowly, looking around. “How is it so pristine?”

“A few of the guys are really obsessed with cleanliness and organization.” She chuckled. “Also I spend a lot of time over here, so I do what I can.”

“I would spend all of my time here, too.” I said. “Why are you even in a dorm if you could be here?”

“Rules.” She rolled her eyes. “Technically women aren’t allowed to be housed in a frat, which blows, but I understand it.”

“Well, I’ll pretend to be you and stay in your dorm if you want to fly under the radar and move here.” I teased, patting her shoulder. “It’s a win win for both of us.”

“I might take you up on that.” She giggled, guiding me through an open archway. “This here is the kitchen-”

“Ellie, s’that you!” 

Eleanor flinched at the booming voice from upstairs, her eyes casting up to the ceiling as she grumbled. 

“Bloody hell, these men,” She shot me a sympathetic look and I tried my best not to laugh softly at her annoyance. “Yes, Niall?”

“I need help.” This accent was slightly different than Eleanor’s and it almost reminded me of the guy on the lucky charms commercial. “I don’t know what trousers to wear, should I do these dark jeans or these plaid one’s.”

The voice was closer and closer with each word and suddenly, a half naked man appeared in the doorway, holding two pairs of pants as he looked down at them. He was wearing white boxer briefs and white socks, the rest of his pale and freckled skin on display. I had to admit that he was extremely attractive, chestnut colored hair on top of his head and a soft stomach rounded out with a matching chestnut happy trail dusting under his belly button. 

“Oh, hello.” He looked up, smiling at me with piercing blue eyes and extremely handsome features. I tried not to blush, my eyes glued to his. “Which one’s do ya think I should wear, love? Good to have an outsider’s perspective sometimes.” 

The sound of a door shutting behind us caused my head to snap around. 

This was more of a man standing at the opposite end of the kitchen, his chocolate colored curls framing his face and resting on his broad shoulders as he looked up at me. His face was perfect, adonis like features catching my attention and his bright green eyes causing my breath to catch in my throat. He offered me a small smile, his features soft as he cleared his throat. 

“Hello.” He said softly to me before his eyes darted up, looking behind me. “For fuck’s sake, Niall. Why are you nearly naked!” 

“I needed help!” I turned my head back towards Niall as his brows pulled together, his lips turning to a scowl. “I can’t decide what trousers to wear and Liam is no help!” 

“We have a guest.” The green eyed god spoke from behind me, but I didn’t dare turn my head. I was afraid that if I did, I would be stuck staring at him for the rest of the night. “Don’t be rude.”

I glanced over at Eleanor who lifted her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. 

I tried, again, not to laugh at her misery. 

“I swear to god, Niall,” She sighed heavily. “The least you could do is introduce yourself to the poor girl before you flash her.”

“M’Niall,” He rolled his eyes, looking over at me. “What’s your name, love?” 

Harry’s POV

“My name is Piper.” 

I stared at the back of her head, trying my best not to think about running my fingers through her soft curls that nearly matched the shade of my own. I inhaled sharply as I pressed my fingertips into the marble countertop below me. I had seen this girl, Piper, around campus before. I saw her flitting from building to building with her head tilted down and her headphones tucked in her cute little ears. I had a huge crush on this girl and now she was standing in my kitchen with my half-naked roommate and my best friend’s girl. 

This wasn’t a good thing at all.

“S’nice to meet you, Piper.” Niall winked at her and I rolled my eyes, shooting him a glare over the girls head. 

His brows furrowed and I gave him a pointed look before mouthing, ‘That’s the girl’.

Niall’s brows lifted up and he shot me a cheeky grin. 

He was the only one I confided in about my girl troubles. 

He knew all about the mystery girl that I passed by every day on my way to physics class and he had suggested to me several times that bumping into her was the best way to catch her attention. I declined, rolling my eyes at his childish suggestion. I had to admit though, if she had been in my class, I would have tossed paper at the back of her head to get her attention. 

It was a trick that never failed. 

“Well, I’m gonna go get dressed then.” He cleared his throat, glancing over at Eleanor. “Lou is stuck on the phone with his Mum, babe. I think he might need some rescuing if he’s going to join the party at all tonight.”

“Oh,” Eleanor stood straighter, glancing over at Piper. “I don’t want to leave Piper-”

“I can stay with her.” I cleared my throat, reaching up to fiddle with my hair as both girls turned to look at me. “I’ve finished my part of party prep, so I don’t mind.”

“Harry, I don’t know.” Eleanor said. “I’m already afraid Niall’s neon white body is going to scare her off. I don’t need you turning on your Cheshire Charm.”

“Oi, I resent that.” I narrowed my eyes at her playfully, trying to fight off my smile as she chuckled. “I won’t be turning on any charm tonight, love. I’ve got a big match to play tomorrow, remember? Gotta save my strength and energy if I wanna do well.”

“Alright, fine.” Eleanor sighed, turning back to Piper. “Are you okay if I disappear for a few minutes? I promise I’ll be right back.” 

“It’s fine.” Piper smiled at Eleanor, gently nodding her head. “Please, go ahead. I don’t mind waiting down here.”

“You’re sure?” Eleanor asked, her face laced with concern. 

“Positive.” Piper glanced over at me. “I think I’m in good hands with ol’ Cheshire Charm back there.” 

My smile was so wide that it hurt my cheeks. 

She was funny and gorgeous.

Eleanor glanced between the two of us before saying a quick ‘be right back’.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Piper turned around, her hands pressing against the countertop as Niall wiggled his brows behind us. He disappeared behind Eleanor moments later, leaving Piper and I alone in the kitchen. “Would you like a Whiteclaw?”

“Oh, sure.” She nodded, her eyes dropping down to her hands. “I would love one.”

“You seem a bit nervous.” I said, walking towards the fridge. “Do you have a flavor preference?”

“No.” She said softly. “And yeah, I guess I am a bit nervous. I’ve had a pretty tough day and I wasn’t exactly prepared to come to a frat party.”

“Why are you here then?” I asked, my eyes scanning the shelves until I landed on the one filled with canned drinks. I reached for two lime flavored cocktails, pulling them out before I shut the door with my hip. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” 

“Um, Eleanor extended the invitation and I kind of owed her one.” Piper smiled, taking the drink with a soft ‘thank you’. “My roommate is a bit of a dickhead and she kicked me out so she could get laid. Eleanor saw me in the hallway on the verge of a mental breakdown and we just...hit it off, I guess.”

“Sorry your roommate was a dickhead.” I smiled, letting my eyes roam over the soft features of her face. “I’m glad you and El hit it off though. It’s nice to have a new face around here.”

I let my eyes trail over the features of her face now that she was up close and personal. 

Her eyes were hazel, a soft golden hue to her irises. Her brows were thick and wild, but perfectly shaped. There were soft freckles peeking out from under her foundation and her cheeks were a soft shade of red. Her nose was soft and rounded at the end and I couldn’t help but think of hovering over her, brushing my own nose against hers as I thrust into her. 

I hated being a man sometimes. 

She was a beautiful girl and even in my head she deserved better than to be thought of that way. She was more than just a sexual object and she didn’t need some creepy frat guy thinking dirty thoughts about her only moments after meeting her. I cleared my throat, reaching for my drink. I took a long sip as she raised her brows, offering me a sly smirk as she sipped at her own drink. 

“Eleanor is a really sweet girl.” I rested my can on the marble countertop. “She’s been having trouble making friends over here, so it’s nice that she’s found someone to hang out with besides us.” 

“I really like her.” Piper said softly. “I’ve been having trouble making friends, too. I’m not really the best at putting myself out there, you know?”

“I think you’re doing just fine.” I flashed her a reassuring smile, noticing how her cheeks turned a shade darker. “I don’t think I’ve fully introduced myself, love. I’m Harry.”

“I’m Piper.” She held her hand out and I took it, giving it a soft shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.” 

Her skin was so bloody soft, her hands a little cold and damp from the can she was holding. 

“You too.” I said. “If you need anything tonight, please don’t hesitate to find me. I know how overwhelming these parties can be and I’ll be happy to keep you company or walk you out for some fresh air if you need it.” 

“Thank you.” She said softly. “The same goes for you. If you need any company tonight, I’m your girl.” 

Just like that, my mind was back in the gutter. 

All I could hear in my head was the echoes of her sweet moans, her voice chanting over and over again ‘M’your girl, Harry. Yours’. I cleared my throat, giving her a tight smile as I tried to avoid thinking about her tucked in my sheets, writhing and gasping as I licked into her. 

I was so totally fucked.

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“Piper, babe,” I laughed, holding her hips tightly as she swayed. “I think we should sit you down for a minute, yeah?”

“If I sit, I’ll sleep.” She whined, looking up at me with her sweet puppy dog eyes. “Where did Eleanor go?” 

“Eleanor is going upstairs with Louis.” I said softly, digging my fingers into the fleshy skin above the waistband of her jeans. “Do you want me to take you home?”

She pursed her lips, shaking her head as she pressed her hands into my shoulders. 

I knew exactly how we’d gotten here. 

The party was still going strong around us, people dancing and shouting as Piper swayed in front of me. I wanted so badly to brush her hair from her face and stroke the soft skin of her cheek, but I would never do something like that when she was this off her face. Holding onto her hips was already too intimate for my liking, but I was afraid she would topple over without some form of support. She swayed forward, her eyes face pinching up ever so slightly before she pressed one hand to her forehead. I frowned, pulling her closer as a group of guys rushed by.

If Niall hadn’t suggested we play four drinking games in a row, Piper and Eleanor might not have been off their faces within the first two hours of the party. I had to admit that I didn’t exactly mind taking care of Piper. She was a funny drunk, silly puns and snide comments slipping from her lips carelessly as she leaned against me. It was when her eyes started to drift shut and her body started to sway, that I started to worry about her. I pulled her into the kitchen alongside a giggly Eleanor, handing them both bottles of water while I quickly cooked up some pizza rolls that Niall had hidden in the freezer. Both girls ate between loud laughs, knocking into each other as I watched them with a small smile on my face.

 Seeing Eleanor happy made me happy, but seeing her happy with the girl of my dreams made me feel like I was on cloud nine. 

��Mate,” Louis’ hand clapped down on my shoulder and I turned my head as Piper’s body fell into mine. “I can take her off your hands. El told me they live in the same halls-”

“She can barely stand on her own, Lou.” I shook my head, glancing down as she rested her head on my shoulder. “Gonna go put her to bed in my room. I’ll sleep on the couch after everyone is gone.”

“Lock the door if you leave her up there.” Louis said. “I’m going back up to El in a minute, but I figured I should get some painkillers and water for the morning.”

“Bring some up for Piper?” I asked him. “I probably won’t leave her alone in there, knowing all of these jackasses are around.”

“Tell me about it.” Louis snorted out a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll be up in five.”

I nodded, watching him disappear through the crowd of people in our living room. 

“Hey, love,” I said softly. “Gonna take you upstairs and tuck you in, okay?”

“Kay.” She mumbled, turning her head until her nose brushed against the column of my neck. 

I made a mental note to have a talk with her tomorrow about going places with strangers when she was drunk. I knew that I meant no harm, but we were still getting to know each other. It set off a level of worry that I only ever felt when it came to my Mum or Sister. It was almost a primal need to protect, my arms winding tightly around her as I guided her to the stairs. 

It was no easy feat to get her up the staircase, but when we finally made it to my room, she snapped into a more alert mode. She looked up, her tired eyes growing as wide as they could before she brushed some of her hair out of her face. She looked up at me, her eyes searching my face as I pressed my hand lightly to her lower back. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Harry.” She said softly. “I’m really sorry I’m ruining your fun.” 

“Nonsense, love.” I shook my head. “S’just another party, there will be plenty more.” 

“Still.” She mumbled. “I don’t want to take your bed. Sleeping on the couch is bad for your back and I overheard that you have a match tomorrow.”

“S’alright.” I said. “I’ve slept on a floor before a match and still kicked ass, Piper. I don’t mind giving my bed up for a good cause.”

She let out an aggravated sigh, rolling her eyes at me. 

I tried not to smile as she grumbled under her breath, reaching for the doorknob to my bedroom door. I followed in behind her, flicking the light switch on before I shut the door behind me. Piper staggered a little and I hovered, my hands waiting to catch her should she fall. Instead, she stumbled over to my bed on bambi like legs, collapsing on the foot with a soft groan. 

“You need some help?” I asked her as she lifted her leg, struggling with her shoe. She merely waved her hand at me, shaking her head. “You want something comfy to change into? I’ve got sweats, shorts-”

“Sweats sound lovely.” She mumbled, a soft ‘aha’ falling from her lips as she finally tugged the shoelace of her boot out of a knot. “You’re a true gentleman, has anyone ever told you that?” 

“My Mum.” I chuckled, walking over to my dresser in search of comfy clothes. 

“S’good,” Piper sighed out as her boot hit the floor. “Hard to find a proper gentleman these days, Harry. I think Jude Law was the last of them.”

“I won’t argue with you there.” I shook my head, trying to contain my laughter as I sifted through my sweatpants. I settled on my favorite pair, the light grey fabric soft and worn. “Do you want a t-shirt to sleep in or a long sleeve shirt?”

“Um, t-shirt.” She mumbled. “Your room is lovely. Did you do all of the decorating yourself?”

“I did, yeah.” I nodded. “Brought a few key things from home, but I spent most of my money in Target when I got here.” 

“Amen to that.” She hiccuped softly. “I like your record player. I’ve always wanted one of those.”

“One day you’ll have to come up and listen to some records with me.” I glanced at her over my shoulder, noting how the corners of her lips ticked up into a girlish grin. “What kind of music do you like?”

“All of it.” She said simply, her voice trailing off. “I’ve always been a fan of classical music for studying. My mom calls me a psychopath.”

“They are known for indulging in the genre.” I snorted, pulling out a white t-shirt before I turned around. “I think that’s lovely, though. I’ve heard some good stuff from Bach in my music theory class and I have to say, it makes for good studying music.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” She said. “I love me some cello, mate.”

“Look at that.” I hummed out, holding the clothes out to her. “Got you talking like a proper brit now, don’t we. Didn’t even know what footy was at the start of the night.” 

“Piss off.” She grumbled, trying to hide her amusement as she mocked my accent. 

“I’m gonna run to Louis' room while you get dressed, okay?” I said. “Gonna steal you some makeup wipes from El’s overnight bag so we can take your makeup off. I want you to lock the door and don’t open it for anyone besides me. I don’t care if it’s Niall or god himself, alright?”

“Alright.” She whispered softly. “You’re really fucking nice, Harry.”

I tried to resist the urge to brush my knuckles over the soft skin of her cheek, but I couldn’t. 

I inhaled sharply as she closed her eyes, leaning into my touch with a soft hum. 

“I’ll be right back.” I said softly. “Lock the door.”

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Piper’s POV 

Falling in love with Harry took me all of five minutes. 

I decided that it was physically impossible not to love someone so perfect. He was a real gentleman, keeping his hands in respectful spots even when I was falling all over him, drunk off my ass. I felt a little guilty about being so touchy-feely with someone I hardly knew, but I was comfortable around him from the start. He stood by my side for most of the night, talking with Eleanor and I as we tossed shots back like water. 

I stood up from the foot of his bed, fiddling with the button on my pants. My vision was most definitely blurry and my fingers were shaking as I swayed on my feet, but I managed to pull the button from the loop before I shoved my pants down my legs. It took a bit of wiggling to get my ass settled into Harry’s sweats, an article of clothing clearly meant for a man with no….assets. 

With a soft hiccup, I worked on my shirt, tossing it to the ground before I reached behind me to take off my bra. My drunk brain didn’t care about etiquette or embarrassment anymore. That all flew out the window with my third shot of tequila that Niall handed over. When I settled the fabric of Harry’s shirt over my tired limbs, I heard a soft knock at the door. 

I stumbled over, pressing my ear against the wood to hear who was there. I was plastered, yeah, but I remembered Harry’s speech about not opening the door for anyone. 

“Who is it?” I called out, my voice breaking just a little. 

“S’me.” I heard Harry’s gruff voice. “S’Harry.” 

I flicked the lock on the door, opening it up with a soft smile. 

Harry held up some makeup wipes and a bottle of water, flashing me a cheesy grin. I laughed, shutting the door and flicking the lock behind him again as he walked into his room. When I turned around, my arms crossed over my chest, he was looking at my body with soft eyes. 

“Everything feel comfy enough to sleep in?” He asked. 

“Yeah, thanks.” I nodded. 

“Alright.” He nodded, looking up at me with glassy jade eyes. “Let’s get you tucked in, shall we?”

I smiled, walking over to his bed. 

I picked the side farthest from the door and closest to the window. 

Harry pulled back the covers, waiting for me to climb in before he rested them over my legs. He set the bottle of water on the bedside table, two painkillers falling to the wood next to the plastic bottle. He sat down next to my legs, ripping into the makeup wipes with ease. I watched him pluck a sheet out before closing the pack back up, tossing it to the nightstand with the other items. I rolled my lips in as he turned towards me, holding the cloth out. 

“Do you want me to do it?” He asked. “Just so you know it’s all gone?” 

“Yes, please.” I nodded. 

I could take my makeup off in my sleep. 

I’d done it before, actually. 

But there was something about being doted on by Harry that I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. 

I preened as he wiped the cloth over my skin with gentle strokes, swiping away concealer and highlighter with ease. I let my eyes slip shut when he asked, his index finger gently brushing at the small bit of liquid liner and shimmery shadow on my lids. When it got to my lips, he did a few quick dabs before his touch was gone from my face all together. 

“All clean.” He smiled, tossing the wipe towards the bin in the corner of the room. “Alright, I’m going to tuck you in and turn on a movie. I’ll just be on the floor next to you if you need anything at all. Bathroom is through that door right there.”

“Don’t sleep on the floor.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m okay with sharing a bed with you, Harry. Friends do that all the time, don’t they?”

“But you’re drunk.” He said softly. “And I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable-” 

“I don’t.” I said. “From the moment we met, you’ve made me feel very welcomed and comfortable. I promise that I don’t feel unsafe or pressured in any way, Harry. If you feel more comfortable sleeping on the floor, then I understand, but I’m okay with you sleeping next to me.”

Harry reached up to rustle his long strands of hair, his curls flopping about as he looked at me with a curious gaze. He inhaled sharply, nibbling on his lower lip as I stared back at him with raised brows and an amused grin. 

“I’ll put a pillow wall between us and everything.” I said. “If it makes you feel comfortable.”

“I just don’t want you to wake up in the morning and freak out.” He said softly. “You’ve had a lot to drink and if you don’t remember any of this tomorrow, it might be a little scary to wake up with a strange man in your bed.”

“Well, it’s your bed.” I said softly. “And I’ve been worse off than this and still remembered what happened the night before, Harry. I come from a very small town where drinking is considered a sport. This is a regular Tuesday for me.”

“Alright.” He whispered through a breathy laugh. “But if you change your mind at any point through the night, feel free to kick me out of bed.”

“I won’t.” I rolled my eyes. “Get ready for bed, yeah? You’ve got a big day tomorrow and I can’t have you losing a match because of me. People will think I’m bad luck.”

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Harry’s POV 

When I woke up in the middle of the night, our pillow wall was gone. 

Piper’s cheek was pressed into her pillow, soft puffs of air escaping her parted lips as she tightened her grip on my shirt. Her hand was resting on my tummy and her foot was hooked over my calf muscle, but she remained on her side of the bed. I lay there for a minute, watching her peaceful face as she slept. I tried to commit her features to memory, my heart squeezing in my chest as she shuffled around a bit. I rested my hand over hers, softly brushing my fingers over her knuckles as her body moved just a little closer to mine. 

The dry feeling in my mouth pulled me from my peaceful moment, urging me to go downstairs for my own bottle of water. It was silent in the house, no more music pumping through the speakers downstairs, and I felt safe enough to leave Piper on her own in my room without the doors locked. I would only be gone for a few minutes at the most, running down for water before I ran back up to curl back up next to the sleeping girl in my bed. 

When I made it downstairs, Louis was already in the kitchen.

“Hey,” I grumbled, walking over to the fridge. “What are you doing up?”

“Same as you.” He said. “Thirsty.”

“Hmm.” I nodded. “Eleanor still knocked out cold?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Love that girl to death, but she snores like a bloody chainsaw.”

“That she does.” I laughed, pulling a water bottle out. “I’m glad she’s got Piper as a friend. It was nice to see her unwind tonight.”

“It was.” Louis nodded, pressing his hip into the countertop. “Piper likes you.”

I nearly choked on my water as Louis looked up at me. 

“What?” I asked. “How on earth-” 

“It’s obvious, mate.” Louis rolled his eyes, an amused grin on his lips. “She’s got a bit of a crush on you, but what girl doesn’t?”

“Lou-” I said slowly, my eyes narrowing. “Why do I feel like you’re about to give me a speech.”

“It would break my heart if Eleanor lost her as a friend, Harry.” Louis said softly. “She doesn’t have anyone over here and I at least have you and Niall, you know? If she lost Piper because you two decided to fool around and things ended badly-”

“That’s not what this is.” I said quickly. “And I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to say, either. I would never hurt Piper, or anyone, on purpose. She’s a very sweet girl and it just so happens that I’ve liked her for a while.”

“You know each other, then?” Louis brows arched up and I sighed. “Wasn’t aware.” 

“We don’t know each other, but I’ve seen her around campus.” I mumbled. “Always had my eyes on her, Lou. She’s fucking gorgeous.”

“Harry,” Louis said softly. “I’m asking you as a friend, please don’t get involved.” 

“That’s a shitty thing to ask.” My voice was hoarse. “It’s late and we’re both still pissed. I’m going to bed.” 

“Just think about it.” He said, knocking his knuckles against the countertop. 

Lucky for Louis, it was all I could think about for the rest of the night.

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Piper’s POV 

When I woke up the next morning, I could feel Harry’s heartbeat against my cheek.

The annoying beeping of his alarm had me groaning and turning my face into his chest. I heard him mutter a soft series of ‘sorry’s’ before it turned off. Harry’s arm draped over my back, holding me against his chest as I closed my eyes again. I let out a soft hum as he brushed his fingers up and down my back, his chest rising and falling slowly under my head. 

“I see that we’ve lost the pillow wall.” Harry’s voice was deep and raspy, causing a shiver to run up my spine. 

“Sorry.” I whispered, lifting my head up as I pressed my palm to his chest. “I guess I tossed it aside in the middle of the night.” 

“You did.” He chuckled softly. “You pushed it down with your feet and then you pulled it out and chucked it because you were trying to get comfortable.” 

“You watched me?” I asked, blinking a few times to try and focus my vision as I rested my chin on the back of my hand.

“I felt you flopping around like a fish out of water and I had to check on you.” He said slowly, his own eyes still shut. “I fell back asleep and when I woke up for a wee you were snuggled so tightly against me that I could barely pry you off.”

“I didn’t know that I was a cuddler.” I mumbled softly. “I’ve never really slept in a bed with anyone else before.”

“Well, you can tick that box off of your bucket list.” He smiled, his fingers still brushing over my back as I looked down at him. “You staring at me?” 

“A little.” I confessed, a small smile creeping up on my lips. “Think you’re pretty.”

“Love,” He let out a breathy chuckle. “Easy.”

“What?” I asked, dropping my head back to his chest. “Why can’t I say you're pretty? We spent the night together, I’m allowed to compliment you a little.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to flirt with me?” He cleared his throat, shifting around under me. I groaned, falling back to the pillow next to him. “Do friends flirt?”

Friends.

I should have known better. 

There was no way on earth someone like Harry would want to be with someone like me.

“Friends can call each other pretty.” I said dejectedly, turning on my side. “And friends can cuddle, too.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you’re an amazing cuddler.” He said softly, pressing his palm to my bicep as he leaned over to kiss my temple. “You’re welcome to sleep more if you’d like, but I would love to take you out to breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” I turned my head, looking at him with furrowed brows. “I thought you had a match this morning?”

“I’ve got a few hours.” He rested his body next to mine, his head falling on the pillow next to mine lazily. “Eleanor will be at the match.”

“I know.” I whispered. 

“You should sit with her.” Harry smiled. “I would like that.”

“Okay.” I said softly as he snaked his arm underneath my own, curling it around my middle. I tried to fight off a smile. “Thought we were getting up?”

“Few more minutes.” He mumbled. “You smell nice. S’that your perfume or your shampoo?”

“Probably both.” I smiled, resting my palm over his forearm. “Both sweet pea scented.”

“Piper.” He mused. “Sweet pea.”

“What are you mumbling about?” I asked, trying to contain my giggles at his sleepy rambling. 

“Gonna call you sweet pea.” He mumbled. “Because your name starts with a P and you’re so sweet.” 

Fuck being friends. 

I liked this boy.

And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ignore the fluttering feeling in my stomach. 

I was truly fucked.

                                           ⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️

December

Piper’s POV 

There were only a few seconds left in the match and our boys were killing it. 

Eleanor gripped my hand tighter as Louis shouted to Niall across the field. Seconds later, he was kicking the ball with the side of his foot. Harry was much closer to the goal, ready to land the winning kick into the goal. I looked at him, his chest heaving and his hairline coated in a thin sheen of sweat. His face was intense and it made my thighs clench ever so slightly to see him so serious. He was always so attractive in the middle of a game, his brows pulled together and his lips pinched tightly together. I loved watching him pull his hair up before a game, twisting the long strands around before he tossed it up in a bun on top of his head. 

“He’s got this.” I said. “Come on, Lou!”

“He’s gonna pass to Harry.” She shook her head. “He has to, babe. He’ll miss from back there.”

“They have five fucking seconds.” We always got a bit snippy during games, but never at each other. “It better be a flawless fucking pass.”

Louis passed the black and white checked ball to Harry with a swift kick and I held my breath, waiting to see what would happen. Harry pushed a guy on the opposing team gently with his shoulder, sliding low until his foot collided with the ball. Just as the last second ticked down, it collided with the net behind the goal and Harry collapsed on his back as players rushed around him. 

Everyone cheered loudly, Eleanor jumping up with a loud cheer alongside the crowd. I could barely move, my heart thumping so loudly that it was all I could hear. I watched Harry’s back flat on the ground, my eyes watering as he continued to stay still. When I saw him sit up, shaking his head, I finally took a deep breath. Moments later, Louis and Niall were lifting him up on their shoulders. 

“Thank, fuck.” I whispered, standing up next to Eleanor as I clapped. 

Harry’s eyes flitted to the stands, landing on mine with a wide grin. 

He was covered in mud and dirt, but he was fine. 

Eleanor grabbed my hand, guiding me down towards the field. 

She was quick to launch on Louis when her feet hit the grass and Niall was quick to run over and scoop me up. I patted him on the back, laughing as he shook me around in his arms. 

“We won!” He cheered. “We bloody won!” 

“I know!” I chuckled, brushing my hand over the back of his head. “I’m proud of you, Ni.”

He put me on my feet, pressing a kiss to my cheek before he turned around to Harry. He grabbed his best mate by the face, kissing his forehead before he ran off shouting something that was terribly hard to make out. I rolled my eyes, steadying myself on my feet. Harry walked over to me, holding his arms out with that same wide and cheeky grin on his lips. 

“Come give your best mate a hug,” He said. “Gotta thank my good luck charm.”

“Harry, no.” I said, holding my hands up. “You’re covered in mud and grass and- Harry!” 

I squealed, taking off on the grass as Harry chased me. 

I dodged a few members of the opposing team, apologizing profusely. 

It didn’t take very long for Harry to wrap his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. 

“I deserve a bloody hug, sweet pea.” He squeezed me tight. “I won!”

“I know, but you’re gross.” I groaned, dropping my head back. “You get to shower before we go to lunch and I don’t.” 

“You could always join.” He whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Know you’ve been dying to see me naked, haven’t ya pea?”

“I will elbow you.” I grumbled, spinning around in his arms. “Don’t be a prick.”

“Just like watching you blush, Piper.” He reached over, pinching my cheek softly. “Where are we going for lunch today?” 

“Where do we always go for lunch?” I rolled my eyes. “Go on, get cleaned up so we can go.”

“Fine, fine.” He sighed. “I’ll see you in ten?”

“I’ll be here.”

I walked back over to Eleanor and Louis, my mind stuck on Harry’s cheeky comment. 

I hated when he did stuff like that. 

He was always toying with my emotions, pulling me to and fro like I didn’t have any feelings at all. He knew that I had a crush on him and he knew that it sucked for me to be so close, but I had the power to stop it at any time. The truth was that I couldn’t stomach the thought of being away from him like that. I wanted him in my life, no matter how I could have him. I walked towards Eleanor with a heavy sigh, crossing my arms over my chest as she kissed Louis deeply. 

Being around a couple constantly was torture when you weren’t apart of one yourself. Especially when the person you wanted to be a couple with was always around anyways. When the pair were done kissing, Louis ran off towards the stadium to take a shower in the locker room. Eleanor smiled over at me and I gave her a blank stare, my lips turning down. 

“What happened?” she asked softly. 

“He’s done it again!” I tossed my hands up. “He was all ‘you should come shower with me, I know you want to see me naked’. Isn’t he the one who keeps insisting we should just be friends?” 

“He’s an idiot.” She rolled her eyes. “I hate that he keeps doing this and I hate that you won’t let me talk to him about it.”

“I don’t want to come between you and an old friend, El.” I shook my head. “He’ll grow up eventually, I guess. If he doesn’t, I guess I’ll have to start moving on.”

“I think you two would be so perfect for each other, babe.” She sighed. “I don’t know what his deal is!”

“Has Louis said anything?” I ask softly. “I don’t want to pry but-”

“Not a word.” She said, her sympathetic grin causing my heart to sink. “He spends all of his time with you and we both know that he’s into you, but something is holding him back.”

“Yeah.” I grimaced. “I like him so much, El.”

“I know.” She frowned. “I wish I could smack some sense into that thick skull of his. I mean, men can be so daft and then they say we’re the complicated ones!”

“I know!” I exclaimed. “Anyways, you and Lou are still coming to lunch with us, right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Louis is dying for a turkey apple sandwich.”

“That does sound good.” I hummed out. “I was thinking about soup, though, it’s freezing out here.”

“Oh, soup.” She groaned out. “That’s perfect,”

                                                        ⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️

Harry’s Pov

I wrapped my towel around my waist, letting out a heavy sigh as I turned the faucet off. 

I hated what I was doing to Piper. 

My sweet pea.

I couldn’t help but rile her up like that, watching her face flush red as I whispered in her ear. 

Part of me was certain that I was riling her up so that she would make the first move. If that was the case, maybe Louis would realize that our feelings for each other were real. 

“Mate,” Louis said. “What was that on the field?” 

“What do you mean?” I asked, my brows furrowing as I walked up to my locker. “We won, Lou.”

“I meant when you were chasing Piper.” He said. “That was flirting, Harry.”

I snapped my mouth shut. 

If he heard the things that passed between Piper and I when we were alone, he’d be livid. 

It was borderline verbal sex with us sometimes, the tension so thick that it had her clamping her legs shut and me shifting in my seat. 

“Was just teasing her, Lou.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not getting onto Niall for picking her up and kissing her face.”

“Niall means no harm.”

“And neither do I.” I shot him a glare. “Mind your mouth.”

“Why her, Harry?” He sighed. “You could have any bird or lad on campus and you want her, why?”

“Because she’s Piper.” I turned towards him. “She’s the one that I want, okay. I can’t tell you why I think about her every moment of the day or why I want to be with her, I just do. I want to be there for her and you’re stupid fucking fear for Eleanor is standing in my way.”

“You can do what you want.” Louis’ jaw tensed. “M’not standing in your fookin’ way, mate.”

“But you are!” I shouted. “You are because you know that I would never do anything to hurt you or El because you’re family to me. You asked me not to do something and I’m being respectful of that because I respect you. I can’t say that you respect me though, because you would never ask this of me if you did. Can’t you see that this is killing me?”

Louis let out a frustrated huff as I turned back to my locker. 

I grabbed my clothes, angrily pulling them on before I ran my towel over the wet strands of my hair. Piper would be pissed to see me pulling at my curls instead of properly scrunching them up with a soft t-shirt, but I couldn’t be arsed to care about that right now. I slammed my locker shut, hiking my bag onto my shoulder before I stormed out of the locker room. When I walked out onto the field, Eleanor and Piper were whispering amongst themselves. 

“I just don’t get it.” Piper let out a sad sigh. “I want-”

“I know, babe!” Eleanor interrupted her with a chipper voice, pressing her hand to Piper’s bicep with a wide smile. “I wish they still had pumpkin spice too, I already miss it.”

“You women and your pumpkin spice.” I grumbled, pressing my hand to Piper’s hip before I leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Know you miss it, Pea, but it’s peppermint season now.”

“You’re right.” She gave me a playful pout. “I guess I can survive with that for now.”

“Thatta girl.” I chuckled, pulling my hand back as she reached up to touch my hair. “What?”

“You didn’t scrunch your hair properly, H.” She sighed. “I’ve told you to take better care of these curls! They’re going to be frizzy when they dry.”

I licked over my bottom lip, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss the pout off of her lips. 

“Sweet Pea, I’m sorry.” I said softly. “I was in a little bit of a rush, yeah? Wanted to get my favorite girls to lunch.”

“In that case, I guess I can forgive you.” She mumbled. 

                                                    ☕️☕️☕️☕️

Piper’s POV 

I sipped at my peppermint latte as Harry tossed a french fry into his mouth. 

“So when are you all flying home?” I asked. “Only a few weeks left until Christmas and exams are almost over.”

“El and I are flying out next Friday.” Louis said, smiling over at his girlfriend. “I’m excited to see me Mum and sisters.”

“Me too.” Eleanor nodded. “Missed them all.”

“What about you, H?” I asked. 

“I decided to stay.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to disrupt my schedule mid year, you know? It’ll be hard for me to get back into things come January if I spend an entire three weeks vegging out with Mum and Gem.”

“Oh.” I said softly, my face falling as he cleared his throat. 

He was avoiding something and he was sad about it. 

“I’m not going home either.” I said softly. “Too expensive to fly around the holiday’s, you know? Don’t make nearly enough being a full time fan girl for the footie team.”

“Tell me about it.” Eleanor rolled her eyes playfully. “Who do I talk to about getting that raise I was promised.”

“Oh, you get plenty as it is.” Louis leaned forward, capturing her lips. “Pay you in love and other things.”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, standing up from the table. 

“I’ve gotta go.” He pulled his wallet out, tossing twenty five dollars onto the table. “S’enough for both of us and the tip, Pea. I’ll see you later in Mcgregor Hall for our study session.”

“H-”

“Bye.” He leaned over, pressing a sloppy kiss to my forehead before doing the same to El. 

I watched him storm out with a confused look on my face. 

“Should I not have asked about Christmas?” I looked at Eleanor with soft eyes. “I can’t….El, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Babe, it’s gonna be fine.” She said softly. “He’s just a bit moody today, isn’t he? Misses his Mum a whole lot, it has nothing to do with you.” 

“What are you two on about?” Louis asked, glancing between us. “Is something going on between you and Harry?”

“No.” I shook my head. “That’s the problem.”

“They have this chemistry and Piper really likes Harry, but he told her that being friend’s was their best option.” Eleanor explained softly. “Sometimes he’s sweet on her though and it makes her sad because she wants him.”

“El.” I mumbled, my cheeks growing warm. “He doesn’t need all of the details.”

“You like that miserable sod?” Louis asked. “You’re not worried about a relationship with him ruining your friendship?” 

“Not really.” I shook my head at Louis. “Harry and I will always be friends.” 

“No, I mean,” Louis sighed. “You’re not worried about it ruining you and Eleanor’s friendship?”

“No.” I said slowly. “What are you talking about?”

“I feel like if you and Harry were to break up, you wouldn’t want to be friends with El because he’s always around.” Louis said softly. “Wouldn’t that be hard?”

“For a bit, yeah.” I shrugged. “We’re both mature, though. I think we could work through any differences and remain friends.”

“Why are you being so nosy?” Eleanor narrowed her eyes, looking at Louis. “What have you done?”

“Nothin’!” Louis exclaimed. “I’ve not done anythin’.”

“Louis!” She cried out. “You’re lying to me.”

“M’not.” He fidgeted in his seat, avoiding her gaze. “Swear I meant well.”

“Louis, what did you do?” I asked softly, my heart dropping as he avoided my gaze. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, I just…” He licked over his bottom lip, looking between Eleanor and I with wide eyes. “I just asked him to consider your friendship with Eleanor before making any moves on you. I didn’t want to see her lose her best friend, you know?”

“You’re a sodding prick, Louis Tomlinson.” Eleanor snapped. “You knew that Harry would respect that if you asked. He thinks of you as a brother and he would do anything for you.”

“I have to go.” I grabbed my bag and my coat. “I have to find Harry.”

“Go on,” Eleanor said. “I’ve got a very naughty boyfriend to deal with.”

                                           ❄️💠❄️💠❄️💠❄️

The first place I ran to was the frat house. 

Harry wasn’t there and Niall hadn’t seen him at all. 

The second place I ran was the park on the far end of campus that we often spent weekends at.

He wasn’t there either. 

When I finally found him, I was only a little shocked. 

“You just played a match, mate.” I let out a relieved sigh when he snapped his head up, his eyes softening when he saw me. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just needed to clear my head.” He said as I walked closer. “Why are you here?”

“I had to see you.” I took a deep breath, swiping the ball from between Harry’s feet with a swift kick. It landed in the goal and Harry let out an amused, but breathy chuckle. “I’m getting good.”

“You’ve got a good teacher.” He snorted out a laugh. “Everything okay, sweet pea?”

“No.” I said. “You see, I’ve got this friend and he’s having some girl trouble.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked. “What’s his deal?”

“He really likes this girl and he flirts with her all the time, but he hasn’t made a move.” I shrugged, glancing up at Harry. “There’s this other friend of theirs that asked an impossible favor of him and he’s being loyal, which I admit is admirable, but a little daft, as you would say.”

Harry’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down softly and he looked over my head. 

“He does sound quite daft, doesn’t he?” He let out a soft laugh, closing his eyes. “Piper-”

“It makes me love him more though.” I said softly. “The fact that he’s putting aside his feelings because he’s that loyal to the people he loves. It’s stupid, but really sweet.”

“You think so?” He asked, his eyes a little watery as he looked down at me. 

“I do.” I nodded. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this, Harry? We share everything with each other and-”

“This was the one thing I couldn’t tell you, pea.” He said softly. “I never wanted to hurt you and...I knew that this would.  I didn’t want you to feel like I was choosing something over you, because that isn’t the case.” 

“Harry, it’s okay.” I said softly. “I would have understood and I also would have had a very long talk with Louis about minding his own business, darling. You’re free to be with whoever you want and no one can tell you otherwise.”

“What if I want to be with my beautiful best friend, pea?” He reached up, brushing his thumb over my chin. “What if I want to be with the girl that stole my heart the moment I saw her?”

“Then make a fucking move, Styles.” I let out a breathy laugh as he leaned closer. “She won’t wait around forever. She’s a fucking catch and-”

Harry’s lips pressed into mine, cold and wet and perfect. 

I pressed my fingers into his shoulders, gripping his coat tightly with glove covered fingers. 

He tilted his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of my lips. 

“You’re perfect, Piper.” His breath washed over my lips as I shuffled closer, desperately seeking his body heat. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” I said. “Just be with me, H. Be mine.”

“I’ve always been yours, Piper.” He brushed the tip of his nose over mine. “Always will be.”

When Harry’s lips pressed to mine again, something wet landed on my cheek. 

We both pulled back, looking up at the sky with wide smiles. 

“Snow.” I said softly. 

“Christmas miracle isn’t complete with snow, is it?” He teased, brushing his nose against mine. 

“Shut up and kiss me.” 

                                                 🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

Harry’s POV 

Louis looked like a child who had just been told Santa wasn’t real when Piper and I walked back into the cafe holding hands. He shot me a soft look that said ‘mate, I’m really sorry for being a dickhead’ and I gave him a tight smile in response. We still needed to have a talk about everything, but there was no use in fighting over something that was in the past now. It felt good, sitting next to Piper as her boyfriend and not just her best friend. It was sudden and my mind was still reeling, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I walked her back to her dorm that night with a pout on my lips and our fingers tightly laced together. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye, pea.” I mumbled, my thumb brushing against her cheek softly as we stood in front of her door. “Just got you.”

“You’ve always had me.” She snorted out a soft laugh. 

“Never been able to make out with you, though.” I wiggled my brows. “Think we can finally carry through on all that sexual banter we’ve been partaking in.”

“Yeah.” She said quickly, her cheeks getting pinker. “But not tonight, H. Think we should take some time apart to think about things before we jump right in. It’s going to be a bit different now and I need to get used to the idea.” 

“Take as much time as you need.” I pressed my lips to hers in a soft kiss. “I’ll be waiting.”

I was only slightly regretting my words now. 

Everyone had left for Christmas and we had the house to ourselves. 

We were in the middle of a movie marathon in the living room, a few bottles of wine and takeout boxes scattered on the coffee table as we snuggled into each other. Piper’s head rested on my chest and her fingers rested against my stomach, slightly drumming over the bit of holiday weight I had put on over the last week or so. She looked so cute all snuggled up in my sweater and a pair of fluffy sucks, my sweatpants tucked into them carelessly. 

“You’re thinking too loud.” She whispered, lifting her head up. “What’s going on in your head, H?”

“Just thinking about how cute you are.” I smiled down at her. “You’re all snuggled up in my clothes with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes. I just can’t believe that I’m lucky enough to call you my girl.”

Her eyes searched my face as I reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I want you.” She said softly. “But I’m scared.”

“I wasn’t…” I trailed off. “M’not trying to get in your pants, sweet pea. I just wanted you to know that I’m so in love with you.”

“And I’m in love with you.” She sat up. “And I would really, really like to show you how much I love you.”

“When you’re ready.” I said. “I know that you didn’t have the best first time and you’re a little nervous to dive back in, but I can wait. I want you to be one hundred percent ready when the time comes.”

She inhaled sharply before giving me a soft nod. 

“I love you.” I said, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip. “Get back over ‘ere, pea. Wanna snuggle you some more.”

                                               🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

Piper’s POV 

Harry was snoring softly in my ear on the couch. 

The sun had long gone down and the credits for The Holiday were rolling on the flatscreen in Harry’s living room. With a soft groan, I flipped around in his arms, nuzzling my face into his chest as he tightened his arms around me. The scent of his cologne filled my senses, nearly lulling me back to sleep. I was moments from falling back into dreamland when I felt something firm pressing between my thighs, causing my eyes to snap open. I pulled back to look at Harry’s face, his eyes still shut as he continued to softly snore. He was still fast asleep. 

I let out a soft gasp, my walls clenching down as I shifted against his thigh. I let out a soft gasp, my fingers tightening against his sweater as I stilled my hips. I tilted my head back, looking over his face as he slept peacefully. I didn’t want to wake him, but was done waiting. I wanted him. I wanted everything with Harry and I especially wanted to indulge passion filled moments with frantic hands and desperate kisses with a christmas film playing in the background. 

“Harry.” I said his name softly, my fingers trailing up his throat to cup his cheek. “Harry, baby, wake up.”

“S’wrong?” He asked, tucking his head down. “You alright?”

“I want you.” I said it softly, my heart pounding against my chest. “I’m ready.”

“Sweet pea, s’late.” He opened his eyes. “Are you sleep talkin’?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean it.” 

I rolled my hips, grinding my core against his thigh to really send the message through. 

“Piper.” He gasped, his eyes wide open. “Darling, what….what’re you doing?”

“Was trying to snuggle up to you and you put your thigh between my legs, H.” I said timidly, my face heating up under his gaze. His lips were curling into a soft smile and I bit the inside of my cheek. “It felt nice.”

“S’that why you want me?” He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Needy girl.”

“Please.” I whispered. “I need you.”

“I’ve got ye’.” He leaned down, pressing a series of soft kisses to my lips. “Gonna push your pants down, okay?”

I nodded, but she shook his head. 

“If we’re doing this, I want to hear you.” He said. “I need you to say what you want.”

“Take my pants off.” I griped, tilting my head back.

“Good girl.” 

Two little words.

They sent a shockwave through my body, running straight to my core. 

I let out a soft whimper as he pushed at the waistband of my pants. 

“M’too tired to fuck you.” He said softly. “But I promise to make you feel so good, sweet pea. Gonna have you cummin’ fo’ me.”

“Please.” 

I shifted my hips as he moved the waistband of my sweats to my thighs, his hand brushing up the skin of my leg to my hip. He gave it a soft squeeze as our lips collided and I squirmed beneath him. He pulled back, brushing his nose against mine with his eyes shut tight. 

“Do you want my fingers?” He asked me softly. 

“I do.” I nodded. “My fingers are too small and I can never get the angle right when I try.”

“Fuck, pea.” He groaned, opening his eyes. “You’re killing me, my love.”

“Just want to love you.” I pouted my bottom lip out. “Wanna feel good.”

“I know, darling.” He sponged a few soft kisses over my hairline. “Let me get on my back, okay. I want you to ride my fingers.”

Harry wrapped his arms around my body, turning onto his back. I fumbled, my chest pressed tightly to his as he let one of his hands trail over my bum. I whimpered when he tucked his fingers between the crease of my bum and my thigh, brushing the pads of his fingers over my lower lips. His other hand maneuvered its way between our bodies, his thumb brushing swiftly over my clit before it dipped towards my entrance. 

“S’this okay?” He asked. “You feel comfortable?” 

“Yes.” I nodded. “I’m good.” 

He inserted his thumb, pulling it out quickly before he slipped it back up to my clit. 

He rubbed soft circles over it as his fore and middle finger brushed over my entrance in a teasing manner. 

I rolled my hips, desperate to have them inside of me. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He said gruffly. “Ride my fingers, sweet pea. Take what you want from me.”

I gasped when he pushed two fingers into me, my slick walls stretching around them as I moved my hips. I pushed down as Harry curled his fingers up, stroking over that spongy spot inside of me. I moved my hips up, his fingers sliding out slowly before I fucked back onto them. He cooed, brushing the pad of his thumb over my clit in quick circles. 

“You’re so tight, Piper.” He whispered into my hairline as I gripped onto his shoulders. “You’re clenching my fingers so tight.”

“Feels so good, Harry.” I whimpered. “Wanna cum.”

“Are you close?” He asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. “My girl is so greedy, isn’t she? Gonna cum before I properly fuck her with my fingers becuase she wants it so bad, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” I gasped against his throat. “I need to cum, Harry. It feels so good and I can’t...I need it, baby. Please let me cum.”

“Take it.” He said, sliding his free hand up to my hip. “Take it from me, Piper. Make yourself cum for me sweet pea.”

I felt my thighs clamping as he pressed harder against my clit, my hips stilling against his hand as he stroked that spongy spot inside of me. I felt my walls clenching down around his digits, my whole body warm as my mouth fell open. It was better than any orgasm I had ever experienced on my own and it had me crying out into the skin of his neck. He brushed his hand up my back, slowly slipping my fingers out as I started to come down. 

“You’re so good.” he whispered. “That was perfect, darling. Did so well for me, didn’t you, pea?” 

“That was nice.” I mewled. “Thank you, thank you-”

“Gonna treat you so good tomorrow, darling.” He promised, a sharp edge to his voice. “Gonna spend hours with my head between those pretty thighs and then I’m gonna fuck you like you want. Gonna have you screaming for me, sweet pea.”

I whimpered into his neck, nodding. 

“I want that.” I whispered. 

My eyes felt heavy as he started to pull my pants back up. 

“I love you so much, H.” I whispered, my eyes slipping shut as he covered me up. “Love you, darling.”

“I love you more, pea.” he whispered. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

I drifted off to the sound of Harry’s voice, my face snuggling into his shirt. 

This was all I ever needed. 

[exosmutfactory]

Six Phases FINALE Pt 2

Originally posted by tipannies

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2) —– P(3)  P(4) —– P(5)  P(6) | ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1)  P(2)✓ (also on AFF)

A/N: Let’s give Riley the ending she deserves 💗

[ contains: smut & fluff~]

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Tonight is a special occasion, one that requires the most lethal of dresses that I own. A dress I always had my eye on yet never dared to take out from the back of my closet. I could never find the right time to wear it—until now. Because tonight, oh tonight… I have a date with Baekhyun.

I pull up the spaghetti straps of my wine colored dress, making sure that the criss-cross stripes of fabric in the front are straight. This dress is definitely too cold for the first week of December, but that's what winter coats are for. For now, I will turn side to side to admire how the bodycon shape fits well with the cutout section exposing my stomach. Party in the front and business in the back.

Straightening the last strand of my hair, I smile when my phone lights up with a notification, knowing full well who it is. His cute usage of emojis visible on the screen tells me all that I need to know. Chuckling to myself, I set down my flatiron and reply to him.

Baekhyun planned a date at his apartment tonight, subtly dropping a hint about what I should wear. Mmhm, this isn't a t-shirt and sweatpants event. Based on the new black blazer in the back of his adorable selfie that he sent me the other day when he asked me out, I got a good idea of what I'm getting myself into.

Humming to myself, I check my reflection one last time and grab my keys before heading out. Let's see which shade of Baekhyun is awaiting me today.

Strutting my way to the elevator in my rose gold heels, I smile at my neighbor when she steps out onto our floor, whistling at my choice of attire. She winks at me as the doors close. Chuckling, I check my phone one last time, typing a quick reply to Sehun with my French tip nails letting him know that I'm okay. We've made a point to catch up with each other at the end of every week, whether face to face or over the phone. Unfortunately, I have plans tonight… and maybe tomorrow too. And the day after that.

Smirking, I repocket my phone and wrap my fluffy coat tighter around me, waving to the security guard while making my way out of the building. The bite of the December air is refreshing for my skin, the heat packed into my coat leaves me slightly too warm otherwise. I look both ways before crossing the parking lot, staying aware of my surroundings. The last thing I need is any drama from a careless driver or lurking thief in the streets. These heels are too expensive to break off into someone's ass for making me late.

My car unlocks with a familiar chirp, its headlights coming on while I walk around to the driver's side. Taking one last glance at the world around me and my back seat, I climb inside and set my purse down on the passenger's side. My phone vibrates just as I start the engine, buzzing faintly against the soft R&B CD playing on my radio. With a small smile, I check my rearview mirror and pull out onto the road.

I hum along to the first track, wondering if a UN Village actually exists while navigating to Baekhyun's apartment. The Christmas lights set up on the light poles in advance bring another smile to my face. Something about this time of year always sits right with me.

Before I know it, I'm pulling into a parking space at his apartment complex, waiting for the powerful vocals of the 6th song on the album to fade away. Sighing a little, I lean back in my seat, sweeping my eyes over the parking lot as the windows start to fog up. Who would have thought that I'd be back here nearly a year later? With warmth in my heart and a certain silver haired, idiotic yet adorable man on my mind.

"I love you," I mumble shyly, holding eye contact despite my heated cheeks and racing heart.

His whole face lights up with his smile, sparkly brown eyes outshining all the stars in the sky as he cups my cheeks in his warm palms. "I love you more."

Stepping out of my car, I pick up my purse and head inside, sharing a knowing look with the familiar security guard on my way to the elevators. It feels so good to be back, the year-long bad memories vanishing with every step I take. To my home—to my heart. The man my heart calls out for like a rescued fish returning to sea.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach when I arrive on his floor, taking my time to walk down the brightly lit hallway. I wonder what is in store for me tonight. After all, when it comes to Baekhyun, anything can be awaiting me on the other side of that door. Possibilities are endless.

Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door, smiling softly when it opens seconds later only for my jaw to drop to the floor.

Baekhyun... with his silver hair parted to the side, wearing fucking brown eyeshadow. That new black blazer of his has buttons on the ends of the sleeves, sitting perfectly on his broad shoulders. But the real sight to behold is lower down on his body, starting from his half-buttoned black shirt showing his honey-toned chest. That view alone could send a woman into a coma, but then he had to tuck his shirt into a pair of snug leather pants. The belt around his hips shows off the curves of his waist and those damn black heeled boots are back again.

I don't even care that he can see me practically drooling—I already know what's on my menu for tonight.

"Hey," He smiles charmingly, taking my breath away.

I take a moment to compose myself, peeking at him from under my eyelashes with a smile of my own. "Hi, B."

His eyes and smile soften. "Come in, it's cold out." He steps aside to let me in, closing the door behind me.

Humming softly, I relish in his alluring cinnamon scent. "Not really," I mumble distractedly, thinking of how much warmer I feel at the sight of him while he helps me take off my coat. The way his breath hitches has a smirk quirking at my red painted lips. "What are we having tonight?" I inquire, glancing over my shoulder at him.

Baekhyun's eyes immediately shoot up to mine. "D-Dinner," He coughs, trying to cover up his flushed face behind his hand.

"Oooo," I walk further into the apartment, following the spicy aroma of food and making my way to the kitchen. "Okay. What did you order in?"

"Actually," Baekhyun's citrus shampoo floats in the air when I reach the doorway, staring at the set table with wide eyes. "I made it myself," He mumbles shyly, the cool plastic of the flower pinned to his blazer brushing against my back.

"Holy shit…" It's a fucking feast. Fresh salad, crunchy garlic bread, and the most appetizing platter of spaghetti that I've ever seen in my life. Not only that, the single-lit candle in the middle of the table has my heart and below squeezing in earnest. This cheeky little hopeless romantic.

"The meat is turkey-based," Baekhyun perks up after a few moments, walking around to place used pots and pans in the sink. Busying his fidgety hands with moving everything off of the counter. "I bought hot sauce but didn't put much because I didn't know if you'd like it spicy or not."

Walking further into the room, I rest my hand on the back of a chair, watching him with a lick of my lips.

Baekhyun continues occupying himself with everything in the kitchen, not even noticing when I slowly approach him. "The toast is on the softer side and I have some sweet tomatoes in the fridge-"

Fuck it.

I grab him by his jacket when he turns around, tugging on him so hard that a few buttons pop off and scatter around on the floor.

Baekhyun gasps, stumbling a little before bracing his hands on the surface behind me, the dishes on the dining table rattling under our joined weight. "Riley-"

I smash my lips to his, kissing him with fervor, backing him up until his back presses against the counter. I'm relentless with tugging and biting down on his bottom lip, capturing it between my teeth. He moans right into my mouth when I part his lips, sucking hard on his tongue.

The audible smack of our messy kiss echoes around the walls of his apartment, steadily building up tension in my stomach and the ache between my legs. Baekhyun softly huffs and puffs for air after a few minutes, pulling back to catch his breath with rosy, lipstick-smeared lips. "D-Dinner-"

"I'd rather eat something else," I utter lowly, rubbing my hand down his chest. My eyes flicker back up to his wide orbs just in time to catch him gulping, his warm brown eyes darkening significantly.

He looks at me for a long moment, hesitation vivid in his body language. I step closer, cupping his cheek before pressing my lips to his, gently coaxing his soft lips to dance with mine. Baekhyun takes a deep breath before wrapping his arms around me, the caress of his hands over my exposed skin leaving goosebumps in their wake.

This, I muse, shivering in delight when my body is fully pressed against his, is what has been missing.

He grows more daring the longer our lips lock, his warm hands sliding up the back of my thighs and venturing under my dress, bunching up the fabric. His fingertips teasingly slipping between my thighs has my pussy quivering, my own palms tugging on his tucked in shirt to feel more of his skin. Baekhyun grips my ass before spinning us around, hoisting me up onto the counter while I tangle my hand in his hair, my lips still glued to his. I moan when his fingers land on my clothed core, welcoming him between my parted legs.

"You're so wet," He breathes, a look of awe on his face. Sweat is already dripping down from the edges of his hairline, casting his skin in a dewy glow under the dancing candle lights.

"I'm not the only one," I murmur, tapping the back of my fingers on the bulge in his snug pants.

Baekhyun groans, pulling me into another kiss, making me gasp when he tugs me closer to the edge of the counter, his hardon right against my heated core. I shiver, wanting to widen my legs and close them at the same time when he rolls his hips, the thin fabric of my lace thong doing nothing to conceal his erection from my throbbing clit.

Our loud moans and sloppy kisses fill the air, the temperature rising in the room with every roll of his talented hips. I tighten my grip on his hair, gritting my teeth to hold back the tension building between my legs. 11 months has been way too long for me to not be intimate with someone like this, but looking up at Baekhyun's already fucked out face, I wouldn't have it any other way.

With shaky hands and quivering legs, I reach down to undo Baekhyun's belt, flinging it out of my way before pulling his zipper down. My hand slips a few times when he moves my thong to the side, sliding his middle finger into my greedy core.

"Ah…" I pant, tilting my head back as he trails searing kisses down my neck. "Fuck." The feeling of him inside of me after so long has me squeezing my thighs around his waist, fighting the wave threatening to fall over me when he finds my sweet spot immediately.

"So good for me," He murmurs, sucking my earlobe between his teeth. He slips in another finger when I finally pull his cock out of his boxers, swirling my fingers around his tip and stroking him in my firm grip. We speed up as we pant into each other's mouths, too turned on and drowned in pleasure to keep up with our kiss.

"Fuck, baby." He pulls back, cheeks flushed a pretty red hue, "C-condom-"

"No time for that." I shake my head, digging my heels into his lower back only to pause, narrowing my eyes at him. "Unless-"

He shut me up with a kiss this time. "No." He murmurs, meeting my eyes, his firm grip tightening on my hips. "No one else but you."

I am surprised by his answer, but I just nod, letting him continue. I might not be able to read Baekhyun like a book as he says I do, but I know he doesn't fuck around when it comes to his health. Let alone when it concerns the pretty, thick dick he has. Brushing his hair away to look into his eyes, I part my lips only for my breath to hitch, blushing at the feeling of him aligning his cock with my entrance.

"May I?" He murmurs, resting his forehead on mine.

The annoying throb between my legs has me clenching my teeth. "If you don't-" I gasp, clutching onto his shoulders as he slides in to the hilt. The burn of him inside me after so long is more than I expected.

Baekhyun pauses to let me adjust, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips that just makes me spasm around him. A gasp escapes him in turn, his slender fingers digging into the soft swell of my hips. "Easy, baby." He strains, voice deepened in lust.

"Easy for you to say," I grumble through gritted teeth, my back arching when he circles his hips. He presses flush against my goosebump-covered skin, giving me warmth as he starts up a comfortable rhythm, spreading my legs as far as the counter will allow. I can't help but gulp, leaning back against my braced palms. Just the view of his stunning body fully dressed beside his unzipped leather pants is messing with my head, let alone his cock pressing every spot within my walls that drives me insane.

Baekhyun pulls out, and before I can say anything, I hear his knees hitting the floor. Silver locks of hairbrush against my inner thighs moments before warm, wet sensation brushes against my clit.

"Mmm," He moans, tightening his grip on my thighs when I jolt. He pulls me even closer to the edge of the counter, placing my legs over his shoulders, "Come here."

All I can manage to do is tangle my fingers in his luscious locks. Hopefully they are strong enough to sustain my knee-jerking tugs when he drags his lips over my core, sticking his tongue into my hole and taking my folds between his lips. Baekhyun is just… gentle, slurping and smacking his lips against my throbbing core without a care. He's taking his time down there as if he has all the time in the world. I feel bad for my arousal dripping onto the counter and all over his chin—it's embarrassing, but it's never been this… this good.

"So sweet," He murmurs, sliding his warm palms up my waist.

Trying my best not to succumb to the coil in my stomach, I risk a glance down at him. The sight of his tongue poking out from between his coated lips to caress my swollen nub in the gentlest of ways has me tensing up—even more so when his brown eyes flicker up to meet mine.

"Baekhyun." I pant, tugging harder on his hair.

"Come on," He breathes, gripping my hips when I start to tremble.

"B-Baekhyun." It takes everything in me to hold on, bracing myself against the counter. "I want you inside…" I throw my head back when he slips a finger inside, quickly followed by another.

"Give it to me." He demands, so softly in an airy tone, his breath hitching at a particularly hard tug on his roots. He's damn near pleading for it and it's driving me crazy. "Come all over my face, baby."

Yeah, there's no winning this fight. With his lewd words and soft lips wrapping tight around my clit, rolling it around inside of his mouth with his tongue, that's it. Game over. How I managed this long without falling over the edge by the works of his mouth is a mystery within itself.

Baekhyun doesn't stop humming and massaging my clit with his lips until I softly push his head away, closing my shaking legs. He stands back up, sliding his hands up my thighs and leaning in for a kiss. It's different from the others we've shared tonight, filled with a certain hint of gentleness and love that matches the yearning and adoration in his sparkly brown eyes.

"Fuck, Riley." Baekhyun pulls back, cock twitching in my hand when I rotate my wrist. He cards a hand through his hair, chuckling in disbelief. "You are driving me crazy."

"Yeah?" I drawl, wrapping my thighs around his waist. "Come show me crazy."

"I'm not gonna last…" He admits, looking worried.

"How long do you plan on loving me, Byun Baekhyun?" I demand, tucking my index finger under his chin for him to face me.

Baekhyun's eyes dance like shimmering orbs of light. "Until my last dying breath."

"Well," I breathe, butterflies fluttering my stomach when his words settle in. "I'm sure we can fit in plenty of rounds until then."

The sweetest smile forms on his handsome face before his brows knit together, biting his bottom lip when I pull him back inside, digging my heels into his back.

"Don't hold back," I whisper into his ear, brushing my lips over his neck. Baekhyun takes a shaky breath, pulling away until only his tip is in my sensitive core. The bruising grip he has on my hips is the only warning I get before he plunges back inside. 

Baekhyun doesn't hold back in the slightest. He sets a fast, near brutal pace, lifting my hips to slam inside of me at an angle that has me screaming his name, clinging onto his clothed shoulders for dear life.

"Fuck, baby." He groans, his steady rhythm taking on sloppy, shallow thrusts. The squelch of our joined bodies stirs up an unexpected heat in me. "I'm gonna-"

"Yeah," I breathe, locking my legs around the back of his trembling thighs. My heart and pussy clench in earnest at the expression on his face.

Baekhyun pants, sweat dripping down his forehead and falling off of his jaw. The flap of his jacket exposing his chest with his shaky movements. "Can I-"

I lick the salty sweat from his heated skin, sucking harshly where his collarbone meets his gorgeous neck. "Inside me, B."

He groans the loudest one of the night, hiding his face in my neck as he pounds into me. His cum spills deep inside, hot and messy. The warmth of it triggers my own release. I have to bite down on his shoulder to contain the uncontrollably loud moan that's ripped from my throat with his final gentle thrusts.

Baekhyun slows down to a stop, his chest flushed to mine while we try to regain our breath. The smell of sweat and sex permeating the air has me giggling breathlessly, running my fingers through his damp hair.

"Fuck—baby," He mutters, hurrying to pull out. "Your dress."

"It's-" I moan, biting my lip when he slides his fingers back in.

"Where's a towel," He frantically looks around, the most comically concerned expression on his handsome, dewy face. "There it is! Ah, it's too far away... I'm sorry, baby-" He stops when I wrap my hand around his wrist, slipping his cum covered fingers between my lips.

"Take it off of me," I whisper, staring right into his dilated eyes.

"You'll be cold," He murmurs, looking between my eyes and my mouth sucking on his fingertips.

"Then warm me up," I purr, wrapping my thighs back around his waist.

Baekhyun's jaw drops, his cock already stirring against me. I reach down to take him into my hand, rubbing my fingers around his tip. "You'll be the death of me." He groans, tangling his hand in my hair and pulling me into a searing kiss.

Hours later, we're curled up in bed. My head on his pillow with his hands in my hair.

"W-Will you stay the night?" Baekhyun whispers, brown eyes no longer showing signs of tiredness.

I smile, completely in love with this new side of him. Baekhyun, in all that he is, is the most beautiful man in the world. "Of course, baby," I murmur, tracing random shapes on his honey skin.

He perks up with the most beautiful smile growing on his face, gently pulling me closer until my head rests on his chest, his fast-beating heart a dead giveaway to how happy he is. I kiss over his heart, looking up into his shimmering brown pools of love. Is he...? Gently swiping my finger under his eye has a tear falling down his cheek. And another. And another…

"You mean everything to me," He breathes, arms and legs tangled so much with mine I don't know where he ends and I begin.

I smile, falling asleep to the beat of his steady heart and the security of his warm arms. "You mean the world to me."

•••

Time goes by so fast when you're happy and in love, turning even your hardest days into nights that you want to remember. Just having that person you love the most by your side, through thick and thin, for better or for worse, makes all the difference in the world.

—The only downside is how agonizing time passes when you are apart.

I pop my bubble gum with my chin resting in my palm, humming and tapping my pen on my desk. After catching up on a day's worth of paperwork, (blame my procrastination… and spending the weekend at Baekhyun's,) I'm bored, impatiently waiting for noon. There's only one way to fix this mood before I'm in a slump for the rest of the day, and looking at the home screen of my phone, I plan to arrange that very soon. 

As soon as 12:00 pops up on the clock, I tap the first number on my speed dial, pressing my ringing phone to my ear.

"Hello?" His honey-smooth voice flutters over the line.

"Baekhyun." I apply a fresh layer of lip gloss to my lips, tucking away my hair to make sure my diamond earrings don't get tangled. "Are you free for lunch?"

"Yeah." He mumbles distractedly, shuffling papers filter through the call before a door shuts.

"Come over." I demand, hanging up. Pushing back from my desk, I walk over to my vanity table, straightening out my black lace, sleeveless bra from under my robe. It's mid-Spring again, already hot enough to wake me up in the middle of the night when I don't sleep with my fan on. The perfect excuse for what I have planned for my "week off" of work. I don't care how many business meetings I have to host from the comfort of my own home.

The doorbell rings just as I'm smoothing down my hair, checking my reflection one last time in the mirror. I make my way out of my bedroom and into the living room, pulling the door open with haste.

Baekhyun stands on the other side with wide, frantic eyes, dressed impeccably in a black suit with his slicked back silver hair the slightest bit ruffled. "Riley, what-"

I yank him inside, crashing my lips to his, pressing his body to the door before it slams shut. His scent surrounds me in seconds, vanilla-scented clothes with traces of smoke. The rich citrus of his soft hair and the hint of musk on his skin from a long day of work. My hands are undoing his tucked in shirt before he can get a word in.

"Riley." He grunts, holding me close as I trail messy kisses down his gorgeous neck. I walk backwards to the couch, toppling onto it with him following me.

"How long before your next meeting?" I murmur, pulling him closer by his tie.

Baekhyun visibly gulps, brown eyes darkening significantly before they flicker back up to mine. "They'll survive." He chuckles, licking his lips, leaning in for another frenzied kiss.

Yeah, Baekhyun wasn't kidding about him being a workaholic—which I already knew, but damn if it isn't annoying sometimes. He's more busy stressing over the new designs for his clothing line than helping me plan his 27th birthday party. All my subtle questions to find out what he would want have been futile. It's just been him typing on that damn computer of his for hours.

I go around spraying the plants in his office, talking sweetly to each of them to make sure they get enough Co2. Their droopy leaves need some perking up with the sheer amount of gloom coming off of Baekhyun's furiously typing form.

He abruptly stops, sighing loudly for the 100th time today. "I should give up."

"Nooo," I pout, walking behind his chair to wrap my arms around his neck, taking a small peek at the rough sketches on his computer. " Keep going, don't give up now."

Baekhyun smiles tiredly, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. "What do you know about that, hmm?"

"A bit." I smile softly, lightly resting my head on his. "Things may seem shaky now. Just out of reach. No longer within your control." Twirling his hair around my finger, I smile to myself. "But that's okay, it means you are being challenged. And a challenge conquered to the best of your abilities will do you a lot of good." I close my eyes, basking in his presence and comforting scent. "So keep going, you'll never know what you are capable of until you reach the end."

My eyes snap open when Baekhyun suddenly spins around, staring up at me with wide, teary brown eyes. "B-" I wheeze, not expecting him to pull me into his arms, hugging me like a lifeline. "Baekhyun…?" I try again, growing alarmed when his tears wet the front of my shirt.

He only holds me tighter in response, his chest silently heaving against mine. I slowly wrap my arms around him and gently tangle my fingers in his hair, pressing a kiss to his ear.

He's adorable, in every way, shape, and form. Ugh, I'm going to end up in a love-induced coma one day with the way my heartbeat always skips when I'm around him. No matter if I'm meeting him for lunch or if he comes to work across from me at my desk when I'm chasing deadlines, I wouldn't change a thing for the world.

—Except maybe his sense of timing things.

I startle awake, clutching my racing heart with unsteady breathing. The details of my nightmare slowly fade away, but it does little to calm me down. Feeling a sense of urgency, I clumsily search around for my phone. I'll text Baekhyun; I need to make sure he is okay.

My eyes squint at the bright screen of my phone, not expecting to check it in the middle of the night, let alone the notification I find there.

*

Baekhyunee💘💕🥺💓😘

Thursday, 2:34 am

Riley

//

Hlep

//

I nee d u

//

*

I fly out of bed like a bat out of hell, rushing over to his apartment, nearly hitting three pedestrians on the way. Parking hazardly in the first empty parking spot I find before jumping out and all but running to the fourth floor. I pound on his door loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood until he opens up, revealing bloodshot eyes and a can of beer in his hand.

"Baekhyun, what's wrong?" I pant, resting my hands on my knees and frantically looking him over. He mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. "What?" I demand, trying to catch my breath.

"I-I just..." He mumbles sluggishly, slouching his shoulders with sadness in his puppy eyes. "I just miss you."

My frantic heart softens. "Get inside and sit down." I demand, pressing a kiss to his cheek before closing the door.

I love this man so fucking much. Even if he annoyingly wakes me up sometimes at 2 to 3 am, I'd run over to his place with my baggy pants and sleeping cap in a heartbeat.

•••

June rolls back around before I know it. This time, however, I plan to decline Jongin's offer to participate in the dance competition again. But to my uttermost surprise, he'll be taking Kyungsoo instead. For tap dancing.

???

Just how multi-talented is Baekhyun's group of friends? Spare me some of that energy, please?

Speaking of friends, Chanyeol's tall figure invited us over to his house today, the mansion that he used to share with Baekhyun and Jongdae.

—I have a grudge against him right now though because he literally called Baekhyun in the middle of the night to challenge him to some video game duel. The comical way his face changed when he saw me glaring at him from the corner of their video call though. By the end of their conversation, an invite was extended to me and Sehun too. It's "best friends" night, and boy do I have a lesson for Park Chanyeol. Lesson one: never underestimate a woman on a mission. In work, life, or on the playing field.

"Damn, man," I mumble, looking wide eyed at the huge flat screen TV and various game consoles around the room. "Leave you alone with the mansion for 2 years and you stocked up your mancave to the finest degree."

Chanyeol flicks a few buttons on the wall next to the door that dims the lights, letting the bright TV and a few arcade games illuminate the room. Baekhyun's eyes twinkle brighter than anything else in the spacious room. He goes over to chat with Chanyeol while I stand in the doorway with Sehun.

"Hey," I whisper, nudging him. "Remember when you used to stream your games back in the day? And the pink hair?"

"Oh yeah." Sehun chuckles while I notice Chanyeol perk up out of the corner of my eye. "I had a setup similar to this back at home." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, taking another look around. "Less impressive though," He mutters, crinkling his nose.

Chanyeol quickly walks over. "Number one victory royale?" He asks, eyes wide. "King of the south-bound?"

"Moisty mire extraordinaire...?" Sehun inquires, eyes widening as well. 

Chanyeol stares him down for a long, hard minute, and then raises his hand. "Truce?"

Sehun smirks, gripping Chanyeol's hand firmly in his. "Truce."

I blink, more than confused. Baekhyun catches my eye and just winks.

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

I'm having a huge dilemma—no, a midlife crisis. All hell is about to break loose and I'll be in the center of it.

Baekhyun asked me out on a date—I know, I know, listen! 

He asked me out on a date… with barely any hints on what to wear.

He didn't say, "wear whatever you want," when I called him earlier. He told me to, "wear something nice."

Nice?! Nice. That's all I got while he remained tight-lipped about his own outfit. At least give me a color, man!!!

So, here I am, swiping clothes left and right in my closet like a madwoman until my eyes land on the perfect dress. One of sheer beauty and elegance.

A white, off the shoulder, hollowed out strapless mini dress with floral patterns from start to finish. The sleeves are made completely out of lace, the ends resting beautifully on the back of my hand. I smile at my reflection in the mirror, keeping my makeup light, only focused on enhancing my features. My phone buzzes just as I recap my eyeliner.

Your chariot awaits.

Giggling, I quickly type up a reply, tucking my phone into my clutch while wondering what this 'chariot' could be. Baekhyun sure does fancy using these cheesy words lately it seems.

Strutting down to the parking lot as gracefully as this dress will allow, I feel thankful for the warm summer night air. Bugs and I, when I'm wearing a dress like this, I need all the warmth I can get.

A blue jeep pulls up and honks at me, confusing me for a second because it isn't Baekhyun's Audi until they roll the passenger window down, revealing Jongdae's ever-bored face.

I blink a few times. "...What kind of low budget uber is this?"

"Yah!" Chanyeol loudly protests, barely overpowering Jongdae's rambunctious laughter. He glares at the brunet clutching his stomach.

"Hop in, Cinderella." Jongdae chuckles as the car doors unlock. 

I carefully climb into the back seat, readjusting the hem of my dress.

"Someone got all dolled up tonight." Jongdae grins, shooting a teasing look back at me.

"Ubers don't talk much, Dae." I point out, watching the city lights fly by while Chanyeol pulls off and navigates us down barely familiar roadways. "Where are we going?"

Chanyeol meets my eye in the rearview mirror. "Where do you think?"

"If I didn't have your mother's number on my speed dial I'd call the police, Park," I grumble, resting my elbow on the car door and my chin in my palm. Jongdae's laughter quirks a smile on my lips while Chanyeol continues driving with furrowed brows and a grumpy frown on his face.

After a while of speeding cars and the radio quietly playing, a certain blue building catches my eye. "Where are we?" I perk up, my eyes widening at a sign in the distance. "Is this...?"

"UN Village," Jongdae supplies.

"Step on the gas, Yeol."

"I-I'm not sure you want to do that, Riley." Jongdae tries to diffuse the situation, his weary features flickering over to the competitive expression forming on Chanyeol's face. "You could get motion sickness and-"

"I thought you were the fastest on the road, Yeol," I fake pout, subtly making sure my seatbelt is secure. "I guess I was wrong."

"Oh yeah?" The tall oaf counters, bursting for a challenge at this point.

"Riley," Jongdae tries again when Chanyeol sits up straighter, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Don't-"

I curl my lips up into a shameless, cheshire cat grin. "Betcha."

My back thuds against the seat when he accelerates. Chanyeol weaves in and out between other vehicles on the road like no one's business. Thankfully the traffic is light tonight and we are taking a lot of unpopular backroads. Heaven knows what would happen if he did this in the heart of Seoul.

Jongdae holds onto the passenger car door and the back of Chanyeol's seat for dear life, the reflection of him in the mirror looking a little green against the bright city lights. By the time Chanyeol slows to a stop, he's leaning his arm across the dashboard, tucking his head between his knees.

"Never," He croaks out, gasping for air. "Again."

Chanyeol's triumphant smirk has me holding back a giggle. I direct my eyes out the window to avoid Jongdae's disgruntled glare.

"Ha! You call that fast?" I grin, hopping out of the car on wobbly legs. "My Grandma can drive better than that."

"Riley," Jongdae pipes up weakly, holding his stomach while Chanyeol's nostrils flare, big brown eyes ablazed. "Don't encourage him, he isn't your ride home."

I begin to rebuke, but pause, noticing an odd building in the distance. "What the…" It's a giant white structure with a curved entrance, another one of those intricate places that the Hannam-dong architects must have loved to build here. "What kind of building is that?"

"Keep walking," Chanyeol nods, gesturing to the long walkway between the tall walls. "You'll see."

Butterflies erupt in my stomach, making me nervous for a moment, but the good gut feeling I get from looking between both their expressive eyes encourages me to move forward. "Thanks for the ride, Yeol," I say softly, patting his jeep before taking a few steps back. Smirking mischievously over at Jongdae. "Sorry for making you lose your lunch, Dae."

He waves me off with a fake annoyed expression, not able to hide the curl of his little smile.

I spin around on my heels, walking through the entrance between the two curved walls. The clicks of my heels on the pavement is the only sound I hear. Following the uneven path, I crinkle my nose, wondering what the hell Baekhyun is up to this time. Got me out here walking down curved pathways in the dark.

Well, apparently the building curls all the way around to a see-through door in the middle, but that isn't what makes me stop in my tracks. It's that flash of familiar silver hair.

Baekhyun leans against the wall with his silver hair parted in the middle, twinkling under the bright lights. Wearing a white blazer, a white t-shirt and silver leather pants. The metal of his belt catches the light along with the rings on his fingers and accessory necklaces adorning his neck.

I snap my jaw shut, making my way over to him. "Baekhyun…"

He smiles warmly, little strands of hair dangling in his eyes in the most handsome way. "Hey."

"Hi," I whisper. "You look…" Eyeing him from head to toe—to those damn sexy heeled boots, I'm at a loss for words. "Wow."

Baekhyun chuckles, moving off of the wall to walk closer to me, taking me by the hand. "You look beautiful as well," He murmurs, kissing every knuckle on the back of my hand.

I feel my face heat up all the way up to my ears. I've only been out here with him for 5 minutes and I'm already about to faint from the softness blooming in my frantic heart. "What are we doing tonight?" I ask softly, not sure if I want to keep gazing into his sparkly brown eyes or look away from the butterfly-inducing adoration written all over his face.

"It's a surprise," Baekhyun supplies, chuckling at the impatient expression on my face. He brings my hand to his cheek, staring deeply into my eyes. "Walk with me?"

My heart goes into overdrive. With that look on your face? I couldn't deny you if I tried.

I nod and let him take the lead, resting my head on his shoulder. There's something about being with him at night like this. Something unexplainable and magical in the air. The soft fabric of his blazer brushing against my cheek and the light July wind blowing through his hair. He's so warm and smells so good I have to bite my tongue not to drag him back to my apartment just to curl up next to him on the couch.

Something tells me that tonight will be a special one, but really, if it's with Baekhyun, anywhere and everywhere, I'll love it either way.

I notice something out of the corner of my eye when we step out onto a sidewalk, briefly lifting my head from Baekhyun's shoulder. "Dokseodang Children's Park?" I mumble curiously.

Baekhyun hums. "This is my favorite place." His eyes sweep over the slightly aged equipment, resting a hand on my back.

Humming myself, I start to reply only for my eyes to dart over at the dirt road ahead.

Baekhyun immediately takes notice, coming to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk. "What is it, hmm?"

I look up at the annoyingly buzzing light pole. "That flickering light-"

Baekhyun snaps his fingers, and the whole world goes black for a moment, then a dozen lights twinkle in the darkness. Fireflies lighting up the night under the shine of the full moon.

"Come on." His honey-smooth voice rings, softly squeezing my hand before leading the way. I rest my other hand on his arm and watch my every step, realizing we are climbing a hill with the deep slope brushing against the front of my heels. Grass crunches under our footsteps, crickets sing their late night songs of cheer, and then I see a peek of something bright as we near the top of the hill. I gasp, nearly tripping in my haste to get a closer look, my heartbeat skyrocketing when we reach the edge of the steep hill.

A stunning table seated for two sits in the middle of the plateau, with a cooler holding an unopened bottle of champagne. Dome-covered plates are set on the white table cloth and a few candles are lit on the table. Vanilla fragrance flutters in the gentle wind as I take in the dozens of lanterns hung up in the tree above. Brightening up the area surrounded by miles upon miles of other rolling hills without outshining the moon. I even spot the UN Village sign at the other side of the park; you can see everything from up here.

"Baekhyun…"

He smiles so brightly when I look at him. "Yes, my love?"

You mesmerizing little hopeless romantic. I can only press a kiss to his soft cheek, hugging him.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes," I mumble into the safety of his shoulder.

He rests his head on mine, hugging me to his chest. "Then why are you hiding, hmm?"

"I love it so much," I mutter, fully content to stay here for a few more minutes. "It's so pretty I have tears in my eyes. I can't believe you."

Baekhyun chuckles, rubbing my back so soothingly it takes all my strength to not melt further against him. The heavenly scent of vanilla once again meets my nose; we have a date waiting for us.

Slowly pulling away, I look into his sparkly brown eyes, smiling shyly before making my way over to the table. He's a step ahead of me in an instant, pulling out a chair for me while I giggle, hiding my adoring smile and red face behind my hand. God, my heart is racing so hard I swear it's threatening to jump out and run to him.

I give him a grateful smile, my skin buzzing under the familiarity of his gentle touch when he pushes me in, his citrus and cinnamon scent perfectly blending with the vanilla while he walks to take his own seat across from me.

Baekhyun sighs softly, tilting his head with a nearly playful smile. "Ready?"

Grinning a little, I tilt my head to the opposite side, relishing in the twinkles of amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He chuckles. "On three?"

I nod, gripping the handle on the top of the dome cover with another smile.

"One," He leans closer to his dome, mischief swirling in his brown eyes. "Two."

More than amused, I play along, butterflies fluttering in my stomach under his beaming smile.

"Three!"

I lift up the dome, setting it aside while taking in the food neatly arranged on the plate. It's a Korean cuisine that I haven't seen before, full of delectable vegetables and tender meat. Watching Baekhyun take his first bite has my mouth watering for two reasons. I carefully cut a slice of beef, closing my eyes when it melts on my tongue. Holy shit, who is the chef behind this? That person needs a raise.

"Kyungsoo made it," Baekhyun smiles, chuckling when I hum at my next bite. "I have to help him out next week though," He frowns, nearly pouting. "He doesn't like doing things last minute."

Recalling the whole ordeal for Jenny's birthday, I can't help but laugh. "I know," I smile, resting my chin in my palm.

Baekhyun smiles, his nose scrunching adorable while cutting another piece of meat.

Conversation flows naturally between us, as always. Baekhyun is just like that, an easy person to talk to, but it's much different than before. He hums a lot, resting his chin on his palm while gazing at me with adoring and attentive eyes, the tiniest of loving smiles on his face. If I wasn't wearing this expensive white dress, I'd lean over the table and kiss the hell out of him.

However, the mood changes slightly when we are nearly done. He keeps tapping his fingers on the table and his foot against the leg of his chair, clearing his throat with a worried expression on his face.

"Bae?" I call softly, tilting my head at his lack of response. Tired of the constant clink of his leather boot against the wooden chair, I nudge my foot against his. "Are you alright?"

He blinks, sitting up straight at once. "Yes, love." He clears his throat again, smiling shyly. "Wanna dance with me?"

"Dance?" I look around at the grassy nature and chirping wildlife, meeting his eyes again. "There isn't any music here, B."

He shakes his head, standing up. "Yes there is."

"I-" I go quiet when he takes my hand, resting it over his beating heart. Looking up into his imploring brown eyes, I start to understand. I nod, slowly standing up as well, following him over to the empty side of the hill.

Baekhyun lifts up our joined hands, interlocking our fingers together and resting his other one on the small of my back. I rest my free hand on his shoulder, gazing deeply into his brown pools of warmth. He makes the first move, slowly stepping forward while I take a step back. The crickets chirp louder with every movement we make, growing more confident by the minute.

Melting at the way his heart beats against mine, I look up at the stars, millions and billions of twinkling lights filling up the night sky. Meeting Baekhyun's gaze again, however, reminds me that not all the stars and planets combined can outshine the sparkling light in his warm brown eyes. He smiles softly as if hearing my thoughts, squeezing my hand before spinning me around, welcoming me right back into his loving arms.

I could spend forever like this, staring into his eyes and listening to his beating heart. Just the two of us while the rest of the world fades away, nothing but background noise to our undying love.

"Look," Baekhyun perks up, looking up at the stars. My eyes flicker up, widening at the shooting star streaking across the night sky. "Make a wish," He murmurs warmly, taking a step back.

Feeling a sense of hope and childlike urgency, I whip around to face the star head on. What should I wish for? The star is reaching the edge of the sky! Sensing Baekhyun's comforting figure behind me, I have all the answers I need.

I wish… Closing my eyes, I clasp my hands together, finding strength in the soft summer breeze. For a love like this, for all of eternity. The last few streaks of the star fade away when I open my eyes, smiling softly until I remember where I am and a certain someone who is with me. Where is Baekhyun? Stiffening up, I quickly spin around in alarm, slapping my hands over my mouth at the sight.

Baekhyun: on one knee, holding up a small jewelry box with shaky hands and vulnerable. "Why do you look so scared?" He breaks the ice, chuckling nervously.

"I thought you left," I blurt, snapping my mouth shut.

He laughs fully this time. "No." He shakes his head, smiling up at me with the sweetest of smiles. "I'm right here."

I take a deep breath, nodding slowly.

"I love you," He declares warmly, keeping his eyes steady on mine. "I love the way my name falls from your lips, the soft swell of your hips, the love in your fingertips." He smiles. "How your doe eyes go wide when you're surprised. The way you curl up next to me in your sleep when I'm working at night." A little grin forms on his face. "The shy expression you get when you ask if I want the rest of your food and that little song you always sing nonstop around the house when you're happy."

I cover my face in embarrassment, peeking at him from between my fingers.

Baekhyun chuckles, continuing, "I love the little notes you leave when you make me lunch. The way you squeak when I kiss right here." He taps the back of his right ear. "Your beautiful mind and all the mischief that comes with it..." He laughs a little. "The way you nag me when I don't dry my hair and yet always end up doing it for me anyway."

"Your sarcasm and loving touch," He murmurs, sparkles dancing bright in his eyes. "The dimples you try to hide when you smile." He cracks another grin. "Your quirky mismatched socks and way of talking." He laughs warmly when I groan, rethinking all my life choices. "How red your face gets when I compliment you." He hums. "Your loud, high pitched, raspy laugh that I know you hate but I simply adore."

"Oh my god," I cover my eyes, knowing how right he is and how hot my face feels right now.

"How sexy your accent is and how sassy you get when you're angry," He murmurs humorously, giving me a knowing look. "That high horse you climb on when you don't want to admit you are wrong that leaves me frustrated and amused at the same time." He chuckles, sighing softly, his voice taking on a gentler tone. "The look on your face when you cry that makes me want to hold you and hide you away from the world."

My heart squeezes as tears spring to my eyes. I sniffle softly, fanning my face while meeting his loving eyes.

"I love everything about you." He takes a shaky breath. "Not a day goes by where I'm not grateful for you coming into my life."

He looks down for a moment, blinking rapidly before flicking his hair out of his eyes. "I know I'm not much," He mumbles. "I-I know I've done so much shit in the past that you have every right to walk out on me for. I know that you deserve way better than me." He swallows thickly, lips trembling before he presses them into a thin line. "Even with all of this, I have some promises I want to make."

Baekhyun raises his head, reaching to take my hand in his. "I promise not to run away. I promise to communicate. I promise to stay by your side through every blessing and hardship you go through." My heart pounds at the determination in his words and sincerity in his shimmering eyes. "I may not be the perfect man for you." A hint of remorse sparks briefly in his brown eyes. "But I promise to love you with all that I have—with all that I am," He pauses, holding my hand securely in his. "Until my last dying breath… If I break any of these promises you have permission to kick me where the sun doesn't shine." He mumbles in a jokingly grumpy tone, smiling when I giggle.

"I promise to love you until the end of time." His voice starts to wobble, hands shaking while looking deep into my eyes. "Please," He opens the box, revealing a sparkly, rose gold ring with matching gems lining the sides. "Marry me, and be mine."

"Yes." I choke out, tears streaming down my face when I bend down to cup his tear-streaked cheeks in my hands. "Yes. Yes! A million times yes."

Baekhyun stands up, slipping the ring onto my ring finger with uttermost care. As soon as he's done, he pulls me close, sealing my lips in a searing kiss that I gladly let take my breath away.

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

"Unzip me?" I ask, peeking up at him from under my eyelashes.

Baekhyun hums and I spin around, chills going down my spine when his hands gently brush my hair out of the way, warm fingertips brushing over my cool skin. The instant relief of being free from the snug material has nothing on his quiet gasp as he slowly drags the zipper down. He steps back while I shrug off the dress, leaving it to pool at my feet before turning to face him.

His hair color looks out worldly under the favor of the moonlight; shining strands of silver and dark grey swaying with the summer breeze. The way the light reflects off his chains casts him in an eternal glow as he looks at me with those warm, brown eyes. The hints of adoration and need in those captivating orbs break me from my trance.

I take more steps until I'm standing in front of him, pushing his blazer off his shoulders and tilting my head to meet his awestruck gaze, my tone soft and warm, "Baekhyun."

He gulps, letting it fall to the floor while I rest my hand on his chest, placing the other on the back of his neck. The fast beating of his heart under my palm makes me smile before my lips press to his, savoring the taste of champagne on his tongue. I tighten my hold on him when he wraps his arms around my waist, backing me up to the bed.

I sit perched on the edge of the mattress, looking up at him when he pulls off his t-shirt, exposing lean muscle and honey-toned skin to my hungry eyes. I can't help rubbing down his chest and gazing at him from head to toe, smiling at the tint of pink to his cheeks. His leather pants join the scattered pile on the floor before he joins me on the bed, his gentle hands pulling off the rest of our clothes.

"You sure are being bashful tonight," I murmur, lightly tangling my fingers in his hair, relishing in how his warm body presses mine to the cool sheets.

Baekhyun smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to my collarbone. "Let's take things slow tonight." He meets my wide eyes with his adoring ones, pulling the covers over our bodies when I give a timid nod.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2) —– P(3)  P(4) —– P(5)  P(6) | ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1)  P(2)✓

Cry with me

A/N: 

HA! Y'all thought I was going to break these two up forever. I still had the Un Village scene left!!! >:'D A lot has happened in this long asf Finale and you know, on one hand (me being me) I'm never satisfied with it, HOWEVER those last two scenes? Yeah, that's the best for me. :')

Okay I NEED TO RANT for 2 minutes. *inhale*

I have never, ever EVER had such a hard time writing a character. My perfectionism really popped out in Jackson's scenes, I swear. I tried writing about this man and it just didn't feel right because I don't know him as well. I legit spent almost a week watching Youtube videos, GOT7 music videos, JACKSON SOLO VIDEOS and fell down a rabbit hole of smut (typical smfh) just to figure out how to present him properly! I know writing is all about how you present your character and how you can make them different than the person you base them off of but holy f*ck I wanted him accurate and that accuracy kicked me in my nonexistent balls… so that up there was the final result *deep exhale*

After all of this I can safely say that Jackson is one of my favorite soloists and member of GOT7 bye-

-THE ACTUAL END NOTE WITHOUT THE RAMBLING-

We've finally made it, loves. Six Phases is completed. It's been 2 long years of writing this story. 2 years full of laughter, smiles, dance breaks, hardships and tears.

I'm writing this end note before I even finish the story that you've read above. I'm writing this little note while on hiatus. I'm writing this while in the process of working on this story so I can heal - because that is the very reason this story was created. For healing. For growth.

The Baekhyun character you all know, see, hate and love? His expressions of love are heavily influenced by IRL Jenny; my girlfriend; my heart. My coauthor; my other half.

Without her, I wouldn't know genuine happiness, vulnerability, or to know that someone can love you unconditionally. Flaws and all. Without her, I would have stopped at chapter 4 and disappeared from the writing world forever. She taught me that it is okay to be open, my loud annoying rambling self and that I deserve to follow my dreams. She has stopped me from deleting this story a hundred times. She is the reason why I opened my heart time and time again to truly let these characters' voices be heard. Their flaws and all.

Every character is a part of me, but Baekhyun and Jenny are inspired by her. I can't express how grateful I am to her without crying on you; I've cried enough happy tears while finishing this lmao SO just know that she has helped me a lot with completing this story, and for what I will write in the future.

Before I end this note that has gone on for too long already, I want to express my gratitude and love to everyone who has helped me continue and finish this story. Please don't feel bad if I don't mention you directly, I have warmth in my heart for everyone who has read Six Phases. You being here means the world to me.

Loving Mentions

Miss Kay - you seriously don't know how much you have restored my love for this story. I'll never forget the first time you reblogged SP on tumblr and your comment still brings tears to my eyes. I always thought this story was garbage and seeing how much you enjoyed reading it encouraged me to pick up where I left off. Thank you for everything <3 I can't thank you enough.

Miss Jamie - I always love reading your comments and the theories you had with each new chapter of the story. I'll never forget that Minute Man joke, I swear. I'm still laughing over it. Not to be giddy but I always look forward to your comments ^^ Thank you for always sharing your thoughts about the story with me <3

Sherlock Holmes Anon - dear, you and your THEORIES!!! I adore them all. I love all the knowledge you've brought to the table about the meaning of the colors in this story and its universe. You are amazing and everything you are studying is paying off!!! Wishing you all the best in your studies ^^ show those exams who's boss, they got nothing on you and your lovely brain <333333

My aff loves

Beau1996, alexajjang, byundipyun,

queeniexoxo, byunsugar, Taqdees,

juntar, Vish15, baeknhyu,

Baekie_18, Endzii22, ohyeahbb, Shawolgurl, bbhmystar.

- thank you for all of your lovely comments. Your words made me the happiest in the world. Every time I used to get those instant aff notifs on my phone, I'd run across my house to read them, ahhh~~~ I always love hearing from you <33333

My tumblr lovelies - thank you sooo much for all the love and interactions you've given to my story T-T I'm not tearing up, it's the cake batter in my eyes. You guys are amazing.

My beloved anon readers, tumblr and aff commenters - I'm sending you so many freaking hugs and tissues for the angst you've been exposed to XD hearing the hot tea and ideas you had for this story was such a joy. Thank you <3

I've spent hours a day replying back to you all, no joke. Every comment is precious to me and I always want to give back what you all have given me <333 I hope this story's ending was a happy one for you, I've had it planned since fall 2020 and I'm so happy to finally be able to share it with all of you.

Thank you, for interacting, commenting, subscribing, and upvoting. I appreciate all the love you've given this baby (haha) fic of mine more than you can ever imagine. This story is dedicated to all of you <3

-and oh, don't worry. This isn't the end of Baekhyun & Riley's story, this is only the beginning. <3

Thank you, can't wait to see you soon 0:) <3

~Love a million times over, Nisa

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone’s Symphony | Day One | Hades

Hey lovelies— here is the next part! I wanted to pause here and add a little note: the word tiny is thrown around here. I don’t want this to hinder anyone of you to not read this because you think the word doesn’t apply to you. I want to make a couple things clear. 1) All shapes and sizes are beautiful and I, myself, am a wonderfully plump lady. 2) I don’t use the word as a physical description in a way meant to limit a ‘reader insert’ type of fiction— I use it because Bucky Barnes is a super soldier and anyone would be small to him. Thus I hope you can enjoy it the same way I can— because sometimes we all just need to feel like a super soldier could rip us in half. Stay safe my lovelies and please do enjoy!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: some angsty moments but overall no warnings

Word count: 4.1k

Previous | Next

Master List

She’s tiny. That’s the only thing he can think for the first couple hours. She is so damn tiny and fragile and soft and he doesn’t know how to be around a human that tiny and fragile and soft. Maybe it’s worse because he has to keep this tiny human alive. He hasn’t had to do that before— all the other tiny people in his life have been perfectly capable of keeping themselves alive. Even Steve all those years ago, when he only came up to his shoulder—barely— would have fought tooth and nail to stay alive. Even then it always felt like Bucky was just there in case. Maybe that was just Steve though.

He blinks— he doesn’t want to think about the man right now. He can’t afford to get lost in his head. Gods only know if he starts thinking about those days— the ‘good’ old days— he won’t stop. Maybe not for days. Maybe because they’ll remind him that he’s not supposed to be here— that he isn’t made to keep tiny, gentle, grilled cheese cooking, question asking things alive. Usually he’s the one hindering people from being alive— hindering life itself. Usually it doesn’t bug him this much but he can’t help but equate the girl in the Caltech hoodie with life—

“Is what they say about New York pizza true?”

— And himself with death.

“S’alright— Chicago is better.”

He watches as she flips through a book that she had picked up off the coffee table a few minutes ago. The Big Book of Dogs. Is he supposed to laugh at that? She is— giggling and flipping through pages upon pages of puppies. It isn’t aimed at him, her musical, soft sounds. She isn’t laughing at him. It only feels like she is. He’s learned to separate the difference these days— it’s just in his head. Still, he has to turn away from her, using the guise— his job— of being a bodyguard to keep his gaze moving.

From the corner of his eye he watches as she lowers the book, peaking over at him from behind a peppy looking Alaskan Malamute— yes, he knows his dogs. He is one, after all.

“You know, I think there are quite a few people who disagree with you on that one.”

Bucky pretends to ignore the way she quirks a brow at him, her eyes drifting back to the page. He also ignores the way his heart spikes at the little movement. Snap out of it, Barnes. He stands, stalking to the living room window and pulling back the heavy green curtain. Nobody is out there— he didn’t expect there would be someone, he just needed to move. How many more hours?

“Thought you were asking me.” He quips, staring out towards the bayou where the water has turned grey and choppy.

He watches as the rain pours down the window pane, tap tap tapping in front of his nose as the sunlight surrenders to the misty storm clouds. As much as he hates to admit it, Wilson was right— the rainy season’s rolling in on the dot. Even he is starting to feel the effects, his bones beginning to leaden.

As if on cue, she yawns, setting down The Big Book of Dogs and curling her legs into her chest, hiding them beneath the mountain of fabric she wears. “I was gauging. Consider it a test.”

Bucky huffs— not sure if he’s annoyed because of her questioning or because of how, despite the tension still laced through his shoulder blades like sailors knots, he isn’t that bothered by it. Annoyed because he isn’t annoyed— that’s a first. He lets the curtain drop again and turns to the TV where Netflix lays open but unused, blocking out one mind numbing haze for another. What would they even watch together?

“Oh yeah? Did I pass?”

Maybe some cheesy sit-com. That feels harmless enough and he’s been catching up on a few of them. Some of them even make him laugh. Maybe that’s in poor taste though. He’s never had to deal with someone else’s grief before— he rarely deals with his own as is.

“Maybe it would be better to just not ask that.”

He doesn’t think before he says it— he doesn’t have time to, it slips out before he can grab it and shove it back in his stupid, sentimental mouth. “You sound like Steve.”

Fuck. Her head pokes up, her doe eyes somehow managing to meet his gaze despite how hard he tries to force his neck to turn in the other direction. How does one person look so soft? He can see the question in her eyes, the way they spark with intrigue. He watches in slow motion as her lips— not glossy like they had been in the picture but still just as pink— peel apart.

“Who’s Steve?” Her voice is too sweet— too sincere. Like she actually doesn��t know. Then again, maybe she doesn’t— they never really used his name.

Bucky can’t answer. It’s too early and Steve is too long of a story. One hundred years worth of story, to be precise. How is he supposed to fit all of that into one answer? He can’t. He can’t answer but he can’t not answer either— not when she’s looking at him like she wants to know every little thing about him.

Bucky can’t answer so he doesn’t answer. “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

She sinks back against the leather cushions, pulling her hands into her sweater. He almost curses when she curls her knees closer to her body. He can’t really see them from under her hoodie but he can see the movement— the way she wraps her arms around her legs so that she looks like a tiny blob of fabric and a head. His chest squeezes at the sight of her pulling away from him. Can he ever say anything right?

He told Wilson— he told him that he wouldn’t be a good fit for the job. What, a man like him? Man, dog, wolf, asshole. What’s the difference? He was right, that’s all that matters. It’s been all of five hours and he’s already making her uncomfortable all because he can’t—

“You’re the one who brought it up.” She grumbles, her soft— less sweet— voice pulling him from his unintentional staring contest with her forehead. His neck flushes with heat. Shit.

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know it’s just— it’s a long story, doll.”

Again, it just slips out. Instead of wanting to push the word back into his lips this time, though, he wants to punch himself in the mouth. Doll? Really? He watches as her eyes blow wide, his stomach sinking when her pink lips peel apart again, her jaw going slack but none of her honeyed words coming out this time. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Immediately he begins running through apologies in his head. Of course none of them are actually worth their weight— not in gold or anything else. Not even in the energy it would take to say them. What’s he supposed to say? Sorry the last time I spoke to a woman was eighty years ago. That would be even more explaining. Damnit, Bucky!

He tries not to groan out loud, clenching his jaw, still staring into her eyes. Look away, you idiot! He can’t. He’s about to say something— or maybe he’s about to literally throw himself out the window, he isn’t exactly sure which is going to play out just yet— but before he can do either the delicate girl in the Caltech sweater speaks first.

“I— erm—” she squirms in her seat but her eyes stay latched on him the entire time— maybe she’s a fighter after all— “we have time?”

For a moment he just stares at her, lost in the way her nose scrunches, her lips pressing together like she’s the one who said something out of line. Like she, too, is contemplating punching herself in the face. That’s when he caves. It’s to save her from a broken nose. He repeats it like a mantra. He isn’t giving in because he’s weak, he’s giving in because it’s his job to make sure she’s safe— even from herself.

He takes a step forward, only now realizing he’s been standing in the middle of the room the entire time. Has he always been this fucking awkward? Nodding his chin towards the floor, the space in front of where she’s perched, he shoots her a look he can only hope resonates as something along the lines of ‘can I sit?’. She nods and he lowers himself to the ground in front of her, leaning against the side of the couch as gently as the super soldier can muster. Despite his efforts he still lands with a thud, the couch shifting backwards a couple inches. It’s not terrible— she only slightly flinches this time and he only kind of wants to bury himself alive.

“Not that much time—” he watches as her face drops, the way her her cheek twitches like she's sinking her teeth into it, and he hurries the rest of his sentence— “but if you ask—” he tries for a smile that feels more like the right side of his face seizing than anything— “then I’ll answer.”

He waits for a beat, his gaze locked on her hands which she pulls from her sleeves only to twist together again. He has to stop himself from looking down at his own hands— from thinking again about how fragile and delicate she is. He doesn’t have to look to know that both of her hands could fit in one of his. Especially his special hand. She hasn’t asked about it. A few times he’s caught her peeking at it, no doubt a million questions swirling behind those wide eyes of hers, but those are questions she has kept to herself. He wouldn’t blame her if she did ask, though— or if she was terrified.

“Alright,” his eyes flick back to her face, meeting her determined stare and avoiding the way his chest lightens, “deal.”

He nods.

“But—”

Oh no.

“You have to ask me things too. It’s only fair— that way we both know things about each other.”

It’s only fair. He doesn’t know what to say. Again. It seems that every time he feels like he’s beginning to figure her out he gets shoved on his ass. Literally— he is quite literally on his ass right now. All because of what? A little girl? A little girl with small hands and a stare worse than his?

A little girl who thinks he of all people deserves fair. He knew life was cruel but this is worse— this is evil.

“Ask away.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Wait, wait, wait— you can’t be serious!”

Her giggles sound more like music than laughter to him. Usually he hates music— the newer stuff at least, maybe Wilson was right; maybe he is an old man— but this is bearable. This is mesmerizing.

He glances up at her from over his shoulder, fighting the same smile that’s been threatening his lips for the better part of two hours now. He isn’t sure why exactly he does it. Maybe because he knows it would be nothing compared to hers. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t deserve to be compared to hers. He isn’t a religious man but it feels blasphemous to even suggest he could exist with a margin of the sanctity she exudes. He’s committed many sins— that he can say with certainty— but to propose that he is the same as her would be the worst one of all.

Of course, that doesn’t stop him from soaking up every pious laugh into his wicked skull— he isn’t a perfect man, after all.

“Deadly serious. Steve was pissed at me for weeks. How was I supposed to know she had a husband?” He is rewarded with more giggles, ones that set his chest on fire.

Is that what happens when demons spend too much time around angels— they start to burn?

She pulls the blanket she acquired around an hour ago over her face, muffling her laughter much to his dismay. “You could have asked her!”

Bucky lifts a shoulder before letting it flop back down again. “You’re right.”

This is how it has gone since he proposed she ask him questions. She asks him her question— usually something light and easy— favourite color, favorite food, what was the last thing he bought. That one threw him for a loop but he answered anyway— Chinese food. She had giggled at that. You don’t seem like a Chinese food kind of guy. She’s not wrong. That is usually what she does after the questions, though— giggles. Giggles and teases him. Tortures him. Same thing. He doesn’t even think she knows what she’s doing.

Then, of course, he asks her questions of his own. They’re pretty much the same— favorite animal, middle name, what Passadena is like. Warm and busy. That was her answer— he’s never been to SoCal so who’s to say whether or not she was telling the truth. He really doesn’t care. He was more paying attention to the timbre of her voice— the way she makes normal words sound important. He didn’t know he could be so enthralled listening to someone talk about a cat named mittens.

For the first hour or so it was questions like that. The easy, no commitment kind. He wouldn’t have minded if they had stayed like that but, as he kept answering, she had grown more and more confident. Honestly, he didn’t mind that either. It was interesting to watch as she became comfortable around him. Well, more comfortable than before— more comfortable than he would have thought she could be around a guy like him. Her knees eventually pushed out of that hoodie and she relaxed into the couch. It was strange— completely and utterly strange.

By the second hour she had braved the first of many hard questions. It wasn’t what he thought it would be— still nothing about his arm— it was nothing close to that, actually.

It was about his mother.

Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be a hard question but it was, unexpectedly so. His mother. He hasn’t thought about his mother in years. Longer. Decades. He wasn’t expecting to feel so guilty about it but there he was, feeling like his throat was being crushed, while describing to the tiny, lovely girl— who has just lost her own mother— his mother’s lily of the valley perfume. He assumed that’s why she asked— because she misses her mother. He doesn’t blame her. He just never thought that he would miss his mother, too, today.

The rest weren’t as bad as that one. They still made his jaw ache, sure, but not like that. The ones about Steve were the only ones remotely comparable. How did you meet him? What was he like? What’s your favourite story with him in it? That was the last question— the one that made her giggle herself into a half hanging, half sprawling position over the arm of the couch— the position she is currently in right now.

He doctored the answers a little bit— he figured now isn’t the right time to tell her he’s pushing a hundred and ten— but he kept the good parts. Like how Steve and he had run through the streets of Brooklyn that night— Steve without a shirt and him in nothing but a pair of boxers that he is pretty sure to this day had belonged to her husband— being chased by the New York police. Good times.

“What, erm, what was her name?” Her voice is extra gentle— airy.

She’s nervous or maybe out of breath. He can’t quite tell, she’s too flopped over to get a proper look. She’s breathtaking either way.

All of a sudden it’s extra hard to fight back his smile. “I thought it was my turn to ask a question.”

Sitting up, she pools back into her seat. She scrunches her nose at him but doesn’t object. He can see that she wants to, though. Her eyes hide nothing. Then again he’s been trained to read people— to see the minute tick of her jaw and the invisible pulsing of her pupils. Invisible to anyone but him. Invisible to anyone who isn’t a monster— the big, bad wolf. His borderline smile dies quickly and he can’t bring himself to search for it again. This is how it should be.

Bucky clears his throat, mulling over what to ask her next. His eyes drift over the tan hoodie, the frays on the cuffs and the fact that there are no strings, and, like that, he has an idea.

“What’s the deal with that hoodie?” He tries to make it casual but he really does want to know— it’s like four sizes too big, there has to be a story.

He tries to make it casual but she still sobers. Like her hands receding once more into the cuffs of her sweater, the last remnants of the giggly girl fade from his line of sight. He chases it as far as he can, watching as her fingers disappear completely and lingering just in case it’s only a fluke. But no, they don’t come back, and he wishes he could disappear with them.

“It was—” her tongue pokes out, swiping against her pink lip and making it shine— “it was my dad’s. He, uh, he went to Caltech too. Was part of their alumni.”

The super soldier nods, pulling his legs up as well, hoping that by copying her she’ll see it as a signal to keep going. He doesn’t want to speak over her and accidentally derail her thoughts. He wants to know about her dad— her whole family actually. Whatever is important to her, like the hoodie.

“We used to go to these big alumni dinners and he would talk at them. Families like us were invited I guess— like a thank you of sorts.” Her eyes take on a faraway look, still latched on his but glassy and distant, no longer actually seeing him. It’s a look he understands too well. “One time he pulled me on stage with him. I think maybe I was thirteen? He said—” she stops, swallowing so hard her throat bobs, and he has to shove his hand under his leg to keep from reaching out— “ah, I’m sorry. He said ‘this girl right here— this is my daughter! If you think I’m good at what I do then you should see her. She’s something I tell you— Gonna be the best this school has ever seen!’”

His chest tightens— not necessarily from her story but from the way her voice cracks, her soft tone becoming scratchy. She swallows again and he hates it. He hates that he can see tears ready to fall and he hates that she’s even here with him under these circumstances.

He hates that he’s still grateful to be here anyway, being the person who she tells her story to.

“Was he right?” He knows it isn’t his question but he has to say something— anything— to make this better. He has no idea if this is it but it’s worth a shot.

Her brows push together, her head tilting slightly to the side, much too elegantly to be normal— are all women this pretty or is it just her? She blinks, clearing some of the mist, eyes drawing over his face. She traces across his brows, down his nose, stopping on his lips for a pulse— like tracing out the rhythm to a song only she can discern. Everything she does is like music. It must just be her.

“What?” She doesn’t say it rudely; she says it like she didn’t hear him— like she was too far lost in the wonderland of her memory to hear anything— and his chest tightens even further.

“You said your father told everyone you were going to be the best— were you?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of her, slowing his words and waiting for the recognition to creep in. It takes a moment but it does, the last of the glass evaporating into something else.

“I, uhm, I don’t know—”

“You do.” He presses— he can hear the edge of that something in her tone. The downplay is scribed over her feature— lowered eyes, flat mouth, trembling fingers— she wants to say something.

“What do you even know?”

About anything going on in my head— yeah, that’s not familiar at all.

Bucky doesn’t flinch when she hisses the words at him— partly because, despite the clear ice in her words, he doubts they came out as hard as she was hoping they would. Her voice isn’t made to sound wretched. He knows she could tell him the filthiest things— tear him down to the last peg, spit his name out like a curse— and she would still sound like an angel. That makes her dangerous— or at least it would if she didn’t already have tears welling up in those big eyes of hers again.

He flicks a brow, letting one corner of his mouth tick up, telling himself that it’s only for her peace of mind— to let her know that he isn’t angry at her. That he gets it. That sometimes he feels so fucking confused and hurt and scared that he, too, wants to hiss at people because at least then they leave him alone. Yeah, it’s only for her peace of mind.

“Try slamming the ‘you’ harder next time—” he draws the word out, exaggerating the motion while keeping his features a mixture of schooled and relaxed— “usually works out better.”

Her hands— which have been tangling over the collar of her hoodie— drop into her lap with a thunk, her eyes rolling. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome— but you never answered.”

She shoots him a deadpan stare— well, sort of. She never actually stopped looking at him so her face just morphes from vexed to blank. So far it’s his least favourite expression— he would rather she just got angry. He’d rather see fire— or ice— than nothing.

“I thought it was my turn?” Doesn’t she know that the more she avoids the question, the more he wants to know the answer?

Bucky doesn’t let up— he will if she actually tells him to drop it but she hasn’t and he doubts she will— she’s too determined to win. “Consider it payment for your extra questions.”

He holds her gaze still, waiting for the moment she folds. It takes longer than he expects it would, sitting in silence with her eyes on him for almost three minutes. He almost breaks around two and a half minutes. The girl has a way of looking at him like she can see right into his head. Still, he holds, waiting, waiting, waiting until finally— there it is!

Light a light shining in the darkness, her mouth pulls into a merciful smile— well, if mercy means the coy glint in her eye, that is. “I was the best.”

The super soldier nods, finally letting his gaze drop. He doesn’t say anything— he doesn’t have to. His point has already been made. He never wanted to be right. He just wanted her to say it. Not for him but for herself. He doesn’t let himself mull over what that says about him. Nothing good. That’s the only answer. It says nothing good about him, the lengths he’s already willing to go to keep this soft, icy girl safe. Him, a monster. It only tells him that he’s selfish— but he already knew that. Those are thoughts for another time.

“Your turn.” He reminds her, leaning back against the arm of the couch, all but aware of the foot of space between his head and her hand which is scratching over the leather behind him.

There is no pause this time— no beat, moment, or minute. Just like that she’s back, moving on to the next topic, almost as though she has had the question queued for ages now, dying to know the answer. He supposes it’s only fair— she let him ask his questions.

“What was her name?”

Her voice lacks the airy note it had held the last time she asked, clearly over waiting, and he has to turn to the window to hide the way he finally cracks, his lips sloping up in a grin that’s both too alien and too familiar. It tastes too much like the old days— like peach schnapps and movie theatre popcorn. She’s not ready for that. He knows because he isn’t.

“Delores.”

_______________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license @dumble-daddy @hellotvshowtrash @thesummerbucky (if i missed anyone I am so sorry please shoot me a message and I’ll fix it)

[fruitcoops]

More “biting” 😉 stories of coops please?

Anon 1: Do you think you’d be willing to do more kinky coops? Maybe a follow up to truth or drink where Sirius gets tied up again?

Anon 2: Mixed prompts 80-83 pls!!

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! This is part 1 of today’s fics--hope you enjoy! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove, whom I love and adore.

TW for restraint kink, edging, smut, and hickeys

Mixed Prompt 80:  “ You’re going to regret that sweetheart.”

81: “Are we clear?”

82: “Try to stay quiet, understand?”

83:  “Don’t hold back, baby.”

“Did you see Coach’s email?” Remus asked as he scrolled through his inbox and reached for another piece of chocolate; they were shaped like little hearts, because Sirius was a sweet, sweet muppet of a man and had a romantic streak wider than the continental US.

“I did, yeah,” Sirius said from the doorway to the kitchen. “It’ll be pretty nice, having two days off in a row.”

Remus read through the rest of the message. Too much snow, unsafe conditions, practice cancelled, yada yada yada. A sudden thought struck him and he glanced up. “Hey, maybe we could try something a little more…”

Sirius grinned as the chocolate clattered to the countertop, along with Remus’ phone. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

Remus swallowed around the sudden dryness of his mouth. Chest. Arms??? THIGHS. FUCK. “Huh?”

“I was saving these for our actual day off, but it seems fate had other plans.” Sirius’ grin became a downright smirk as he quirked an eyebrow and bent his knee.

“When—how—what?” Remus couldn’t tear his eyes away from the tight, dark red fabric that covered Sirius’ legs up to his thighs. Bows. The socks had bows on the top, and they matched his underwear. “How long have you been standing there?”

Sirius shrugged. The upper half of his body was bare, and Remus tracked the movement of every muscle. “About five minutes. Your email must be very exciting.”

A soft whine escaped his throat. “Where did you get those?”

“Online.” Sirius flexed his thigh and all the air rushed from Remus’ lungs. “Why, do you like them?”

“I want to take them off with my teeth,” he blurted. “Fucking hell, Sirius.”

“That can be arranged.” Mischief played at the edge of his mouth as he began backing away. “Though you’ll have to catch me first.”

And he ran. Remus stood there in shock for a moment before sprinting after him, skidding on the floor as he grabbed the bannister. Sirius was already on the bed when he made it to their room and snapped the top of one thigh-high at Remus playfully.

“You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.”

“Promise?”

Remus was on him in an instant, sucking a bruise into the side of his neck as he pushed Sirius’ arms over his head and settled between his thighs, grinding his hips down. “How long have you had these?” When Sirius smiled instead of responding, he bit down on his shoulder. “Tell me.”

“Four days.”

“Where did you hide them?”

Sirius gasped at the pressure on his wrists. “Nightstand.”

“Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

A slow, smug look covered his face and he nipped Remus’ bottom lip. “Yes.”

“Turn over.” Sirius bucked his hips up instead, and Remus let go of his hands to flip him hard enough he bounced a bit, then attached his mouth to his shoulder blade. “God, you look fucking incredible in red, baby.”

“You think this was an accident?”

“Somebody’s feeling bratty.” Remus dragged his blunt nails down Sirius’ ribs, and he shivered. “Just for that, I’m going to finger you until you’re begging for it. Are we clear?”

Sirius turned his head to the side and rolled his hips back. “I’m not begging for anything.”

“We’ll see.” Remus continued mouthing along the strong line of his shoulders as he fumbled blindly in the nightstand drawer for the lube, then paused. He straddled Sirius’ waist and leaned over to sift through the various items that they had tossed in without thinking—playing cards, a book, Sirius’ tie, a few condoms that they hadn’t touched in months… “What the fuck?”

“What?”

“Where’s the lube?”

“Are we out?”

Dread pooled in Remus’ gut. The mere thought of trekking through the snow to get lube or—even worse—finding out all the stores were closed was almost enough to kill his boner. Almost. Sirius was still in red underwear and fucking thigh highs, after all. “No. We can’t be out. Didn’t we just buy some the other day?”

Sirius shrugged. “It’s been a while, I don’t know.”

“It has been a while,” Remus muttered.

“I think I put some in the laundry room so we would have extra.”

Relief made butterflies erupt in his chest and he kissed Sirius’ cheek. “You are so smart and I love you. Hang on one second, okay?”

Remus’ hands shook a little bit as he hurried back downstairs and down the hall, standing on his tiptoes to see into the cupboards. Laundry detergent, Windex, fabric sheets, two pairs of Jules’ socks…

He pushed the detergent aside and felt around for the familiar bottle. “Where the hell did you put it? Come on, baby, work with me here.”

Clear plastic caught the light on the highest shelf and Remus thumped his forehead against the washing machine. He got the stepstool with minimal grumbling and grabbed the lube, making a mental note to block that entire shelf and remind Sirius that he was five foot fucking eleven, which was well above average.

“Baby, we need to have a discussion about—” He stopped cold in the bedroom doorway, then sighed. “Really?”

Sirius arched his back as he pressed two fingers back into himself, his jaw going a little slack. “You were slow.”

Remus took a deep breath when he saw the half-full bottle of lube on the bed next to him. “Where’d you hide that?”

“Under my pillow. You didn’t even check.” Sirius’ breath caught as his hand changed angles, but his smile remained. “I thought you’d call me on it for sure.”

“You know, most people wouldn’t play terribly mean tricks on their fiancé on Valentine’s Day, especially when that fiancé was already going to fuck them so hard they can’t walk straight,” Remus said as he walked slowly toward the bed and tossed the other bottle next to Sirius. “You’d better count your lucky stars we don’t have practice for the next two days.”

“Oh?” Sirius eyes fluttered shut for a second and he reached for more.

Remus smacked his hand away. “Yes. Was the shelf really necessary?”

“I had to delay you somehow. Did you use the stepstool, or did you climb on the dryer?”

“None of your fucking business, tall-ass. Turn over.”

“Make me.”

Remus reached back into the nightstand and pulled the tie out, manhandling Sirius’ arms over his head and tying them to the small ring they had put in the headboard for that exact purpose. Sirius made a confused noise when Remus grabbed his silky-soft underwear off the foot of the bed and slid it back up his legs until it was snug and tight again. “Much better.”

“Wait, wait, wait, what happened to fucking me until I can’t walk straight?” Sirius’ eyebrows drew together and he nudged his leg against Remus’ side, only to have it guided back down by a firm hand. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” Remus said drily as he squeezed the thin strip of bare skin on Sirius’ thighs. “Between the super fun game of tag and then hide-and-seek, I thought you didn’t want me to touch you.”

“But you will, right?” Nervousness laced his voice. “Right?”

“Maybe. Might get myself off and then leave you here, though.” He leaned over and dragged his lips down Sirius’ chest. “I’m still on the fence.”

“Non, non, non, get off the fence. The fence is not a fun place to be.”

“Really?” He continued to the edge of Sirius’ waistband and dipped his tongue under the satiny fabric, then feathered his mouth along the outline of his dick until Sirius’ knees started inching upward in pleasure. “Hmm. I think it’s a great place to be, actually. You could beg yourself hoarse and I wouldn’t have to do a goddamn thing.”

“What do I have to do?” Sirius panted. The front of his boxers was already darkening with precome and his pupils dilated when Remus palmed himself through his pants.

“Try to stay quiet, understand?”

Sirius clenched his thighs around Remus’ waist as he pulled his shirt off, only to shakily straighten them out again when Remus fixed him with a withering look. His dick looked painfully hard as Remus got off the bed and slid his pants down his legs, giving Sirius a great view of his ass under the tight black underwear he was wearing.

“Oh, yeah, that was supposed to be a surprise for you,” he said mildly when Sirius whined. “It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. One of us was getting railed tonight.”

Sirius perked up. “Really?”

“That was the original plan. Now that you’ve got these—” He plucked the edges of the thigh-highs as he knelt on the mattress again. “—I might need to rethink that idea.”

“Nope, no you don’t.” Sirius wrapped his legs around Remus’ hips and tugged him down. “You really don’t need to rethink that, it sounds like a fantastic idea—”

Remus pressed his palm over Sirius’ mouth and pushed his legs down with the other. “What did I say about being quiet?”

A soft noise tore from his chest as Remus ran the heel of his hand up Sirius’ dick and felt it twitch beneath the fabric. “Desolée,” he said as Remus scooted backwards a few inches. “Desolée, mon coeur.”

“Good job.” Sirius sighed happily as he worked a hickey onto the bit of skin between his underwear and his socks, but his chest hitched when Remus moved barely an inch to the side.

“What’re you doing?”

“Decorating.”

“Me?”

He sighed and bracketed Sirius’ ribs with his elbows, resting his chin on his hands. “Yes, you. You’re beautiful, and I’m just making sure people know you’re appreciated. Now be quiet.”

“Nobody’s going to see those. They’ll be gone in three days.”

“I’ll know.” Remus placed a slightly darker bruise on his inner thigh and Sirius’ hips canted to the side with pleasure. He hummed against his skin, then pulled away. “I’ll have to finish these when I turn you over.”

“When?”

“If.”

“Re.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffed with a smile, leaning up for a brief kiss. “You know me better than that.”

Sirius’ eyes crinkled. “I do.”

“Let me enjoy myself in the meantime, yeah? I think I deserve it after everything you’ve done today,” he teased, adding new hickeys to Sirius’ other thigh until the bare skin was mostly dark lilac. He skimmed kisses down both his legs, paying special attention to the backs of his knees and the cute little bows at the tops of his thighs. “I love these.”

“Yeah?” A pink flush spread to Sirius’ chest.

“Yeah. Somehow, they’re both adorable and sexy.” Remus reached up and tapped his nose. “Just like you.”

And then he licked a long, slow stripe up the front of Sirius’ underwear, which made him shake from head to toe. “Oh, fuck me.”

“Not yet.” He did it again, this time giving his hips a squeeze. A choked moan slipped through and he shushed him softly. “Quiet, baby, remember? I’ll tell you when you can make noise for me.”

“Oh.” Sirius’ eyebrows pitched upward as Remus slowly slid the sticky fabric down and replaced it with his tongue. “S’il vous plait. S’il vous plait, mon cœur, je le veux, s’il vous plait. ”

“What did I tell you?”

“I—I—” Sirius clenched his teeth as Remus sucked just the head of his dick into his mouth. His abdomen jolted under Remus’ palms.

“You’re getting all accent-y.” Remus smirked, leaving a mark on the crest of his hipbone. “I told you that you could beg yourself hoarse and I wouldn’t have to do a god—” He kissed the soft skin below Sirius’ ribs. “—damn—” Another kiss, just under his sternum. “—thing.”

A tremor ran through Sirius and he pulled on his restraint for a moment, hard enough that the headboard creaked. “Ngh. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I think it’s time to finish those decorations, hmm?”

Sirius nodded enthusiastically and Remus untied his hands, flipping him by the hips for the second time. He practically purred as Remus tied him up again and pressed his hands into that broad back; Remus pushed his knees until they bent and Sirius propped himself on his elbows, breathing heavily and bare but for his thigh high socks.

“Color?”

“Green.” There was no hesitation in his voice.

“Good.” Instead of going straight to his legs again—which were flexed in the new position and doing absolutely wonderful things to Remus’ thought process—Remus grabbed the half-empty lube and poured some on his fingers.

“What’re you doing?” Sirius asked, trying to shift around and see. He froze when the first finger pushed in without an issue. “Huh. But—but you said—”

“I didn’t tell you to start making noise.” Sirius pressed his face into the pillow and his knees jerked inward as Remus added a second finger. “You already did this part for me, didn’t you?”

“Mhmm.”

“But I didn’t tell you to.”

“No.” The word was barely a whisper.

“And as much as I love you—” He kissed Sirius’ lower back and scraped his teeth along the dimples there. “—and want to make you fall apart, I can’t let you do whatever you want without consequences.”

“Yes, you can,” Sirius gasped, tightening around him as Remus pressed upward. “You can, I don’t mind.”

“No, I can’t, and you’d better be quiet before I drag this out even longer.”

There was a beat of silence while Sirius got ahold of himself again. “How long? The usual?”

“Since it’s Valentine’s Day, eight minutes.” Remus smoothed a hand up his spine and pressed down between his shoulder blades until most of his upper chest was on the pillows before slowly dragging his fingers in and out, pushing just next to his sweet spot until Sirius quaked with the effort of suppressing his moans. He added a third finger a moment later and Sirius’ thighs knocked together. “Hold yourself up, baby.”

Sirius pulled his elbows in once again, supporting his chest as Remus added a few new hickeys to his thigh and stretched him slow and deep. He gave his wrist a twist when he moved to the right side and Sirius dipped for half a second, one leg threatening to give out.

“Hold yourself up,” Remus reminded him, wrapping an arm around his lower belly and lifting slightly; Sirius’ breath caught and his shoulders folded in a bit. “You okay?”

“Ouais.”

“Alright. Two minutes left.” He pushed his fingers in further and felt the ripple of pleasure roll through Sirius under his mouth, then kissed the middle of his back. “Like that?”

“Uh-huh.” Sirius’ voice was tight with pleasure and wavered with swallowed moans.

Remus flexed his fingers and brushed against his prostate; Sirius nearly collapsed onto the bed and a whining noise was half-muffled by the sheets. “What was that?”

“ ‘s nothing, ‘s nothing, keep going.” Sirius tried to get to his elbows again, but even though Remus had stopped moving, he seemed to be having trouble. “Sweetheart, please.”

“You know the rules, baby. Five more minutes.”

“I can’t—I can’t—”

“You will.” Remus rubbed Sirius’ side to soothe him, but didn’t take his fingers out. “How about this: if you can hold yourself up and make no noises for two full minutes, I’ll fuck you and you can come whenever you want. Sound good?”

Sirius nodded frantically and struggled to get his knees under himself. “D’accord.”

“Time starts…now.” Remus kept his eyes on the clock as he plucked at Sirius’ seams, spreading his thighs to get a better angle when it looked like he was starting to relax into the feeling. One minute left. Something that would have been a moan if Sirius had a little less willpower lodged in his chest and he tensed around Remus, legs shaking with arousal. He was damn near dripping onto the sheets.

Forty-five seconds. Remus bit his lip and ran his free hand up Sirius’ thigh, digging into the bruises just enough to get his attention. “You look so pretty with these,” he murmured, leaving a trail of small bites down his spine. “It must have been hard finding thigh highs that fit, huh? You’re so strong, so beautiful, and I love that about you.” He made sure to run over Sirius’ sweet spot on every drag until his breaths got shallower and his dick twitched. Twenty seconds. “You don’t really want to come right away, do you? You like it when I take control. You like being tied down and edged until you’re a mess. Ten seconds left, baby.”

Sirius’ back bowed as Remus’ hand brushed his dick. “Pas juste,” he blurted, then groaned when Remus paused. “Fuck.”

“Was that a sound?”

“No, no it wasn’t.” He pushed back against Remus’ hand and whined when he pulled his fingers out. “Re, I only had five seconds left.”

“Bummer, isn’t it?” Remus said with mock-pity, rubbing wide circles along Sirius’ ass and thighs.

“One more chance?”

“We had a deal, love. Two minutes, no sounds, no falling. You did so well and then you tripped at the finish line.”

“You touched my dick.”

“Was that against the rules?”

Sirius huffed and glared over his shoulder, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the pink of his cheeks and the pleading look in his eye. “It was in my head.”

Remus made a sympathetic noise. “It’s a shame you’re not in charge today, then. Chest down.”

“I want to see you.”

“Later. Down.” Sirius rolled his eyes, but complied so his back sloped in a gentle curve; Remus smacked his thigh lightly. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Oops.”

“Apologize.” When he stayed silent, Remus slid two fingers back into him. “Sirius, apologize or I’ll get you off by fingering you.”

“I’m sor—sorry.” His hips jerked as Remus pushed on his prostate one last time.

“That wasn’t so hard, huh?” He pulled his own underwear down and tossed it to the side, reaching down to push Sirius’ thighs apart while he lubed up. “Don’t hold back, baby, you can be loud now.”

“Oh thank God,” Sirius breathed, shuddering a bit as Remus pressed in and began to move. “Oh—oh, oh fuck.”

“Color?”

“Fuck—green.” He gripped the poor necktie and twisted it in his hands while the pace made his knees slip. Remus put his arm around Sirius’ midsection once again while the other hand splayed on his back and held him down into the pillows.

The thigh highs began to bunch from all the movement and Remus slowed, reaching down to adjust them while Sirius clenched and unclenched his hands, mumbling out a string of pleas in English and French alike. Remus stilled for a moment and kissed the side of his neck as he relished in the heat.

“Move,” Sirius moaned, pushing back weakly. “Please, please move.”

“I love you so much,” Remus said into his sweat-slick skin as he started again, angling up on each thrust as he lifted Sirius’ hips into the right spot. “I do, baby. And I can’t wait to have two whole days to ourselves so I can admire those pretty bruises all over you.”

“Lemme—lemme see you. S’il vous plait, mon amour, I wanna see you.”

“Alright, shhh.” Remus combed a hand through his hair and untied his wrists; they were a bit pink from all the pulling, but otherwise looked fine. He gently pushed on Sirius’ shoulder so he could roll over and was met with glassy silver eyes and lips bitten so red they almost matched his socks. “Bonjour. Do you want me to tie you up?”

“Non.” Sirius smiled and pulled him down for a slow kiss, and Remus could feel his heartbeat hammering against his shoulder. “Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime,” he murmured back as he lined himself up again. Sirius’ eyes fell shut with a moan when Remus pushed in and he inhaled deeply, winding one leg with Remus’ and letting the other splay to the side.

“There, there, there,” he pleaded, grasping for a hold on Remus’ arms as his eyes flickered between open and shut. “Oh, fuck, je veux—je veux—”

“Do you think you deserve to come?” Sirius made a conflicted noise and pressed his knee into Remus’ thigh, only for Remus to pull it straight once more; the sock rolled down with each rocking movement. “Sirius, look at me. Do you want to come?”

It took a moment before Sirius made eye contact with him and nodded, struggling to get enough breath to speak. “Yes.”

“You were so rude earlier, but I did make you wait a long time.” Remus thought for a second, but didn’t slow his brutal pace that made Sirius turn his face into the pillows. “Can you come like this?”

“Touch me—touch me please—”

Remus lifted his lower back up and ran his teeth along Sirius’ pulse point, then wrapped a hand around his dick and jerked him quick and tight until high, incoherent sounds slipped through his lips. “Now.”

Sirius nearly kicked him in the shin as he arched his back, mouth falling open, moans muffled in the hollow of Remus’ throat. He babbled some string of whimpered words, caught between pushing Remus away and pulling him closer until their warm skin pressed across his entire front and his knees bumped together over the small of Remus’ back.

Remus followed him a moment later, sliding his mouth along Sirius’ collarbone before he came so hard his arms shook with it. A soft hand trailing through his hair brought him back to earth, though Sirius still looked dazed and shuddered every few seconds as Remus stroked a hand down his cheek and slid the thigh-highs back up with the other. “Shh, mon amour. Ça va, chérie, respire. Je t’aime tellement. ”

Sirius smiled and kissed him again, holding him close and warm as he pulled out. “I love it when you speak French,” he murmured. “Si beau.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Their quiet laughter buzzed against his chest and he littered Sirius’ face with kisses until his silver eyes cleared. “Are your wrists alright?”

With a heavy sigh, he let go of Remus and held them up. “All good.”

He kissed those, too, for good measure. “And the rest of you?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I think you achieved your goal.”

“Which one?”

“There is no way I’m going to be able to walk straight.”

Remus hid his laughter in Sirius’ neck and rolled to the side, gathering him into his arms. “It’s a good thing we have all weekend, then.” He checked the clock and sighed. “I should make dinner soon.”

“No.”

“No? I’m not allowed to make us food?”

“Nope.”

“But that’s my present for you.”

“Your present to me is currently on my thighs and won’t disappear in half an hour.” He felt Sirius smile and nuzzle closer, then gentle pressure on his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Payback.” Sirius rolled him onto his back and began speckling his neck and shoulders with small love bites, outlining his ribs with featherlight touches. Remus reached down and snapped the edge of his thigh high. “Hey!”

He grinned. “Couldn’t resist. You’re going to keep these, right?”

“Duh.” Sirius wound their legs together and cuddled into Remus’ side. “Mmm, you are so warm.”

Remus wrapped both arms around him and kissed the top of his head, closing his eyes. Naptime sounded good. Naptime, then dinner, then back to bed for more snuggles, or maybe something more. It was Valentine’s Day, after all.

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

The Next Morning

The first thing Sirius saw when he woke up was gray. The second was Remus’ shocked face, followed by an ‘oh, fuck’.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, propping himself on his elbows with a wince. His backside ached from yesterday’s activities, and his thighs were still incredibly sensitive—he noted that the matching rings of hickeys had not diminished much overnight with a sense of satisfaction. Remus was staring down at his phone as rain drizzled softly outside.

Wait. Rain.

Silently, Remus passed him the phone. Sirius squinted at the screen, blinking the drowsiness out of his eyes, then froze.

Hello team,

Due to improved weather conditions and snow melt, practice today has been rescheduled for 4 pm. Thank you for your flexibility.

Best,

A. Weasley

“Oh, fuck.”

[writingsbychlo]

💬 blurb request for ff!tommy smut?? honestly Chloe your writing is so good, and ff!tommy is my favorite and it would be such a blessing!! ilysm and congrats on 9k!

if you requested ff!tommy smut, I have rolled them all into one. because there was a surprising number, lol. y'all really thirsty for ff!tommy and honestly me too so here we go! I did y'all a little mix of headcanons and blurb, because all the requests were mixed. I tried to include everything from them all!

no more requests, the sleepover is over! I am just filling out all the ones left in my inbox!

okay, so, it's not like y'all haven't done stuff

I mean, he's hot, you're hot, and you're both mad in love

you've just not done that yet

but, it's been busy, and you kinda want it to be perfect

you had a whole weekend away planned, but it got cancelled last minute after another team injury that meant your team took over

and now, there's just a lot of pining

I mean, there's not much left to the imagination

you're no stranger to one another, a few showers and a lot of wandering hands has left you with a pretty solid fill of your imagination

if you really think about it, you can still feel the way cold shower tiles felt against your back as he scissored his fingers

or hear the way he'd groan ringing in your ears still when you'd go down on him before work

just to smirk all morning as it takes him hours to actually clean his head after a mind-blowing orgasm

not to mention the way your throat had been fucking sore after he'd gone down on you, a pillow over your face just to stop complaints from your neighbours

but you wanted more

you wanted to feel connected to him in that way, because there was only so much foreplay could do

and you were fucking needy

he'd whispered a lot of dirty promises in your ear about what he was gonna' give you, and you were waiting for him to deliver

this time was no exception

stumbling through the front door of your place

a pretty dress on a hook and a suit next to it, both still in their protective covers, waiting to go

steam from the bathroom was pouring out from under the door, and you whimpering embarrassingly as his fingers rubbed slowly across your clit, sucking marks into the skin of your chest where he knew your hemlines would cover

"tommy, please.."

"please, what, angel? tell me what you want?"

it had been a chaotic shift, a lot of adrenaline, and he'd smelled of smoke and been a little sweaty and dirty and he was pretty much entirely what wet dreams were made of

you'd been dripping since you'd gotten back to the station, and uncomfortable ever since

with your back pressed up to the counter, hair still dripping wet much like his own from the shower you'd recently taken, you let out another cry of his name

tracing your fingers over his chest, he twitched a little as you dragged your fingers over his nipples, and down, several spaces marked with raised pink skin, scars of all his saves, dotted between dark hairs along his chest and to his defined abs

"more, tommy, please.."

he grinned, head raising back up to capture your lips, and his fingers slid along slick folds

two slender digits easily slipping between your walls, pumping at the best speed he could manage from the angle

despite the relief, he wouldn't be enough

"no, more, like, I need you to fuck me, tommy."

"we don't have time, we'll be late for newt's birthday pa-"

"so we're late, newt'll understand. if I have to spend the whole night staring at you in that tight fucking suit, looking so fucking good I could pop, I won't make it, thomas. you hear me? 'might just die."

"you're gonna' die if I don't fuck you?" he'd tease, but slip his fingers free, raising them to his lips to lick them clean, and that fucking filthy look he'd get would take over his face. "well, I can't let that happen. I'd better fuck you real good, just to keep you in top shape."

"I think that's a good idea." You whispered, hands hooking underneath your thighs, fingers of one hand still wet as he lifted you, and your legs sealed around his waist. Only a second later, your back was meeting the bedding, stray droplets soaking into the fabric, and his body was following quickly after you. Kneeling before you don't he bedding, he was stretched out in all his glory, hard and toned muscle, dark hair trailing down from his pecs, and his cock tall and leaking, red at the tip in a way that made your thighs clench when he bobbed in the air.

Large hands pushed your knees apart again, letting out a harsh breath as he stared at you, gaze trailing up from your slick core to find you, propped up on your elbows. "You got no idea what you do to me, angel. Fuckin' hell."

"Think I got a pretty good idea." You whispered, red flush growing from his neck to his cheeks, but he gave you a cheeky wink nonetheless. Leaning down again, his lips found yours, a delicate kiss, and you bit gently on his lower lip, that deep and raspy moan you loved shaking along your body when he emitted it.

"You sure you wanna' do this? Want it to be perfect for you. Wanna' take you apart, piece by piece, make you mine."

"We have all night for that once we get home, you can make love to me, but right now, I just need you, Tommy. Been waiting too long." He groaned, your nails scraping over his chest, before your fingers were wrapping around his cock, his hips bucking into your hands.

"Well, if that's how we're gonna' do it, then flip over, hands and knees for me." The request jolted something filthy though you, and you did as told, turning over, before two large hands were palming at your ass. "D'you even know how good your ass looks in, like, everything? Fucking hell, if you weren't wearing heels tonight, I'd fuck you 'til you couldn't even walk. Maybe next time."

Lining himself up and sinking within your walls, your eyes were rolling back in your head. Thomas was by no means small, a voice in the back of your mind that was quickly silenced taunting you about comments once made, and the warmth of his chest covered your back as he leaned over you. Pressing several kisses along your spine, he gave you a moment to adjust, and you wiggled your hips against him.

Calloused hands were on your hips, holding so tightly you thought he might bruise, and he pulled back. One sharp thrust of his hips and he was sinking back into you, stretching you out all over again with a delicious kind of friction that made your jaw drop.

He repeated his actions, again and again, and you were sure you'd be getting noise complaints now, because you couldn't control yourself. His hands were everywhere, pulling your hair and rubbing soothingly over your body, every inch of skin being touched, and you were seeing stars. His voice was echoing in your ears, praises and groans, mumbles about how good you felt, like he wasn't making you see heaven with every thrust.

You could barely breathe, the building fire, the coil getting tighter and tighter, and when you finally snapped, it was with a few brief brushes of his fingers over your swollen clit. Your heart was beating so fast you couldn't barely feel it, but it felt like time stopped, groans and begs and the kind of grunts that only prolonged your own orgasm as Thomas came, pumps of searing warmth, until you were collapsing back into the bed together.

He rolled over, freeing himself from you to stare at the ceiling, and you copied him, panting for breath, and feeling like you were on fire. "Holy shit, that was incredible."

"I can't believe we waited so long for that, I don't know how I lived without it." He mumbled, head turning to face you on the pillow, and his body soon followed. Two fingers on one side of your jaw and his thumb on the other, he pulled you closer, leaving a passionate kiss on your lips. "You sure we have to go to the party? We should just stay here all night, and do that. In fact, we should quit our jobs, Just stay right here, fucking."

"How would we make money to eat?" You teased, and a cheeky look passed over his face.

"I don't know about you, but I've got everything I need to eat right here."

"Oh, you're so bad." You mumbled, pushing his face away from you when he let out a loud laugh, and you tried to scoot towards the edge of the bed. "What happened to waiting 'til after the party before fucking me until I couldn't walk, huh?"

Your legs were wobbly as you stood, wandering back towards the bathroom, and he propped a hand under his head, smirking as he watched you go. "Oh, you ain't had nothin' yet, angel. Just you wait 'til we get back."

[lilbabycee]

shame on you (blame on me) // ransom drysdale

↳ summary: you find out some shocking information about your fiancé that makes you question who’s to blame.

↳ request: for the prompt: i really need some angst in my life so maybe a super angsty cheating fic with ransom? - anon

↳ relationship: ransom drysdale x reader

↳ word count: 4.7k (oops)

↳ warnings: angst angst angst!, explicit smut, cheating

↳ author’s note: i love ransom and this actually made me sad - please enjoy! x

You’ve always considered yourself a fair person.

Throughout your life, you’ve been taught that you should take a step back, assess the situation you’re in, and look at it from a different angle. But as you’ve had to learn over the years, looking at too many angles can make you dizzy and as hard as you try, those scales of justice have a mind of their own and can easily tip one way or another when your back is turned to face another perspective. It’s a tedious game to play and you can’t win all the time, but for you, it’s always been enough to just try. 

And try as you might, there will always be people interfering with the balance: people with ulterior motives and nefarious agendas, people who will do anything to see themselves in first place, people who want so desperately to be able to do it all. Life is an exchange, a give-and-take that you must navigate with the precision and confidence of a synchronized swimmer trying to keep up with the shadow of themselves in an ocean of doubt and self-loathing, and you find that those who only want to take and take without giving are those who, more often than not, end up alone when it’s all said and done. 

But you’ve always gone out of your way to make an attempt to steer people away from going down that path, encouraging them to give more of themselves to people who deserve it and open up their hearts up to people who may change their lives. All of your friends like to joke that you have a god complex and you can’t help but agree that maybe you do.

It’s inexplicable why you feel so responsible for the lives of others; strangers, friends, family alike, you bear the weight of their choices on your back. You chalk it up to extreme empathy and your parents insist that it’s because you’re just inherently good. Maybe it’s because you feel as if since the minute you were born, the scales have been tipped in your favor. Perhaps you’re compensating for all of the privileges that you were handed because of who your parents are and what your socio-economic class is, the silver spoon that you’ve been trying to spit out of your mouth for your whole life. All you know is that you so deeply crave justice that it makes your head ache some days. 

So yes, you would - modestly - consider yourself fair.

That’s why it shocked so many when you fell in love with Ransom Drysdale. 

You met him at a charity fundraiser that you were hosting to build schools in less economically developed countries all over the world, an initiative that you’d been working on for years and held so dear to your heart. Your mother has been close to Joni for her entire life and knew the Thrombeys and Drysdales because of business, so when she told you that they’d be attending, you didn’t think much of it.

“Darling,” your mother calls and beckons you over, pulling you into her side with a bright smile on her face as she stands next to a group of well-dressed patrons. 

When you’re standing next to her, you must be mindful of the way that the emerald green satin of your gown sweeps the floor. With a slim diamond choker wrapped around your neck and rings that cost five-figures adorning your fingers, you usually prefer to indulge in simpler pleasures but for events like these, you give into hedonism and allow your mother and stylist to spoil you. You press a barely-there kiss to your mother’s cheek as she gently holds onto you, running her nails up and down your arm comfortingly.

“Honey, these are the Drysdales. This is Linda, her husband Richard, and their son Hugh.”

You smile politely at both Linda and Richard and are about to give their son the same treatment when you feel the heat of blue flames licking up the exposed skin of your leg that peeks through the thigh-high slit in your dress. But the fire doesn’t stop there; it spreads up your stomach and lands in the valley of your breasts. A part of you wants to be angry that this man is ogling you as if you’re a piece of meat, the prey that his predator has been waiting to pounce on, but a part of you revels in it. You know that you look good - it’s no secret to anybody at this event - but to have someone unabashedly appreciate that makes your heartbeat speed up.

Since he can’t tear his eyes off of your cleavage, you take the opportunity to give Hugh a once-over of your own. 

His black loafers are designer - you can tell by the way all of the little golden g’s on the velvet of his shoes are linked together - and so are his black socks, something which makes you have to physically prevent yourself from rolling your eyes. The black, grey, and white checkered pants he’s wearing hug his thighs just enough to see the shape of the muscles in his legs and the outline of his sizable length - you don’t let yourself look at that for too long. The letters on his belt match his shoes and you’re momentarily astounded at how narrow his waist is. Under a waistcoat and suit jacket that are both printed with the same pattern as his pants, he’s wearing a burgundy turtleneck that clings to his torso like a second skin. From what you’ve seen, you can assume that he’s heavily muscled underneath his clothes, and when you see his broad shoulders and big arms, you’re proven right.

Luxury virtually seeps out of his pores and it nauseates you.

But you’re intrigued nonetheless. His eyes lock on yours and you find yourself drowning, trying to swim through a choppy sea of grey and blue. It knocks the breath out of your lungs and a shy smile lifts your lips when he extends a hand out towards you.

“Nice to meet you,” his voice is deep and his jaw is squared as if he’s biting back his words. You delicately place your hand in his and marvel at the way his palm swallows yours. His skin is warm and soft and you’re close enough that you can smell notes of bergamot and cedarwood that make your usually poised stance melt. 

“Likewise, Hugh,” you manage to say, overwhelmed by the charm and class of the man before you.

“Call me Ransom, sweetness; only the help calls me Hugh.”

And just like that, your rose-tinted glasses shatter and you blink hard, rescinding your hand from Ransom’s and nodding at him briefly. You can’t help but wonder how much more pretentious this son of a bitch can get, but your mother hasn’t failed to notice the way that the two of you sized each other up. So when you’re eventually walking away from the family of three, she gives you a knowing look that you’re all too familiar with, a look that makes you scoff and avoid her eyes.

“So,” she draws out the word and nudges your shoulder with hers, “he’s cute, no?”

“Mom,” you groan quietly.

“Come on now, darling, he was a very handsome boy. And I saw the way he was looking at you-”

“Sure, Mom, but did you hear him? ‘Only the help calls me Hugh’ - he’s so far up his own ass...and what kind of name is Ransom anyway?”

Your mom shrugs, the corners of her lips twitching up into a cheeky grin.

“Doesn’t matter, love - I think he’s cute and you should go speak to him. And if you don’t, who knows? He might snatch you up in that auction later tonight.”

And he did. Every year at the benefit, you auction yourself off for a night out which you only continue to do because it proves to be an extremely valuable source of income for your charity. You’re standing up in the center of that stage, the host for the night yelling out the bids for the auction, and through the blinding lights, you’re able to see white signs flying up with ridiculously high amounts of money printed on them. You’re sure that this is almost over when you see fifty-thousand dollars stuck up in the air, but then the host says:

“One-hundred-thousand dollars to the gentleman in the checkered suit right over there!”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing and a part of you hopes that it’s not Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you haven’t seen anybody else wearing such a distinctive suit; your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. Even in the relative darkness, you meet the blazing blue of his eyes with an inaudible gasp and the sly smirk on his lips makes you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stop a smile of your own from spreading on your face. 

So when he wins a night of your time for one-hundred-thousand dollars and he leads you off the stage with a large hand on the small of your back, you can’t even bring yourself to be a little irritated at the way he leans into your body to whisper “gotcha” teasingly in your ear because he does have you. 

Fair and square. 

---

But you don’t know how you’ve ended up here. Over three years and one marriage proposal later, you’re sitting here pitifully with your head in your hands because you can’t believe that this is what it’s come to. You’ve tried many times over the past few hours to cease the incessant shaking of your hands but it’s relentless, your anxiety and distress running through your veins and seeping through your bones. 

The last four hours of your life have uprooted everything that you’ve ever believed in, everything you thought you knew about fate and order and love because it’s all a fucking mess. When Harlan handed you the flash drive, he warned you that you should only look at it if you think that you’re ready to accept that your reality will be flipped on its head and the expectations that you’ve allowed yourself to build up so carefully like tiny little brick towers will not only be knocked over, but destroyed beyond repair. 

You brushed him off jovially, thinking he was just being overly dramatic like he usually is, because you and Ransom had just gotten back from tasting wedding cakes and you were in your own little bubble of serenity. With a brief kiss on his cheek, you floated out of the room on cloud nine as he watched you leave with deep despair in his eyes that you were too distracted to notice.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have just thrown caution to the wind and plugged the memory stick into your laptop without really thinking about it first; you don’t think you’ll ever forget the way that your heart plummeted into your stomach at the images of your fiancé with his arms wrapped around a slew of different women. 

Something inside of you immediately wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they caught him from a bad angle, maybe the other women were the ones who initiated it. But you backtracked because who are you to blame anybody else except for Ransom? That wouldn’t be fair and a part of your brain knows that you have to come to terms with the fact that he’s more like his father than he would like to admit. 

You still don’t know why you kept looking, continued to scroll through the pictures even though looking at your soon-to-be-husband’s lips on other women made you feel as if you were going to throw up your breakfast all over your laptop. The more that you stared at the candid photos, the more you realized that the actual infidelity in itself hurt, but what’s even more painful is the cold look in his eyes when he’s with them. 

They didn’t mean anything to him yet he still did it, and that’s what gets you. 

Maybe you deserve this: maybe it was always meant to end up like this. It’s hard not to think that this could be the way that this relationship was always meant to pan out, that maybe this is fate balancing out those scales. You knew from the moment you met him that you’d have your work cut out for you with Ransom, but you were never one to back away from a challenge. And it wasn’t as if you were actively trying to change him but sooner or later, Linda came to you with praises spilling from her lips because she couldn’t believe who her son had become within the first year of meeting you. He’d transformed right in front of your eyes, and it filled you with a glowing sense of pride to see how much more caring and open and honest he was. 

Early in the relationship, you’d wanted to establish that you wouldn’t treat him like a charity case. Everyone is flawed to some extent, sure, but there are behaviors that you will always find inexcusable, and the two of you had sat down and laid them out. You had a feeling that you would need to set some ground rules with Ransom and he was surprisingly lenient, establishing his own terms and conditions in return. 

The two of you had laughed hard about it later on because it all sounded like some kind of business deal or contract. 

You could laugh about it now too, especially since the number one most important item on both of your lists was to remain faithful. As a couple, you think that you have a very direct form of communication. Ransom is not one to hold back his discontent and frankly, neither are you. Neither of you is afraid to argue and you do it often, but it’s never grown into anything more intense than a few hours of painful silence and is always resolved before you fall asleep. 

You’d always thought that if you ever found yourself in a situation like this one, you wouldn’t be able to forgive your significant other. But never in your life have you felt such an intense connection to another human; your souls have intertwined so intricately that you don’t know whether or not you’re willing to jeopardize that.

“Princess?”

His voice echoes through your shared house and you can hear him hang up his coat, cursing as he kicks his shoes off and pads up the stairs. He stops outside the open door to your bedroom, spying the back of your open laptop and your still body lying on your stomach with your face turned away from him.

“Babe, you’re gonna flip your shit when I show you what I found today,” he drops the bags in his hand and walks around the king-size to press a kiss to the top of your head. You can pinpoint the exact moment when he realizes that something’s wrong. He freezes in place, feet seemingly rooted to the ground when he gets a good look at your face. The puffiness of your eyes, your wet lashes, and the tear streaks down your cheeks all alert him that something’s not quite right. 

That’s when he sees it. 

The last picture that you looked at was by far the worst. It shows him balls deep in a woman who you actually know fairly well because she’s worked closely with both you and Ransom for years on a number of your projects. She was initially hired as his assistant but soon evolved into something more like a friend to your family and his alike. You decide that it’s definitely worse when it’s someone you know.

The room goes entirely silent because the universe has pressed pause on this moment, all so he can fully realize the gravity of the situation. 

“Baby, let me explain-”

“I actually don’t think I want you to, Ransom,” you respond tiredly, your voice raspy from lack of use and your head heavy as you sit up in your bed. You pull your knees into your chest as you run a hand over your face to wipe away any leftover tears. 

Ransom flinches and you know it’s because you’ve called him by his name. With you, it’s usually baby or sweetheart or honey but not this time. He wants so badly to be your love again but the light in your eyes has gone out and he doesn’t know whether or not that’s even possible anymore.

You’re exhausted more than anything else. You’ve cried all your tears and are ready to never think about this ever again, but he’s sitting in front of you looking like a kicked puppy and you know that you need to be fair and give him a chance to explain himself. That’s what you’d want.

“Please, sweetheart, let me,” he begs, eyes searching yours and hand cautiously hovering right over your jaw, not quite touching but the heat emanating from his palm is enough to make you tear up again. It’s a small comfort that you know you’re going to miss.

Nodding, you hastily place your hand over his, pressing it to your face while a sob escapes your lips. He wraps both his arms around your waist as you curl in on yourself and sink into his body, taking deep breaths even though your nose is being assaulted with the familiar scent of oak and vanilla that makes you long for a simpler time. 

There’s a drawn-out pause before he starts speaking, his chin resting on the top of your head as he mulls over his words. 

“I’m sorry.”

It’s all he says for about a minute, letting the words hang in the air while the only sound in the room is that of your loud sniffles. 

“I’m so, so sorry, sweetness.”

He’s always called you that: sweetness. He once told you that you’re like honey, soft and sweeter than anything he’s ever had the pleasure of loving, and then laughed when you returned from work that night with a bag of those pastries you like from the bakery up the street. He could never stomach them no matter how hard he tried, but you always thought that was hilarious because he inhales those biscoff cookies like air. 

But you don’t feel very sweet right now as he spews apologies and excuses, spinning you sugar-coated lies and candied falsehoods with the confidence of a practiced storyteller. There’s a bitter taste on your tongue that you want so badly to spit out, tell him what you really think of him in this moment and how he’s not the man that you came to know. It was foolish of you to think he’d changed.

And when once again, quiet falls over your room in the light of the mid-afternoon, you only nod again, choosing to reserve your words for when you have something to say. Because as of right now, that sour taste still lingers on your tongue but you have no desire to rid yourself of it any longer. You’ll let it stay, allow it to fester as a reminder that you’ve been blind and naive but never again.

It ends here.

Ransom starts to stir noticeably when you don’t say anything, playing with the cotton of your shirt and your limp fingers. When you hear him speak next, something’s changed in his tone and you can feel the bass in his voice through his chest. 

“Y/N, baby, please say something- anything. Scream, yell at me, just fucking do something, babe: you’re killing me here.”

You scoff at the notion of you killing him because the irony of it is too funny to resist. But you decide to put him out of his misery, finally blinking up at him and meeting his eyes. They’re filled to the brim with cold rain that sends a chill down your back, dark and stormy and wet like the English countryside and you can almost smell the petrichor. 

“Can we just go back to before?” 

Your voice is cracking and your request is simple, but it’s enough for the few tears brimming in Ransom’s eyes to spill over onto his cheeks. You’ve only seen him cry twice before and it tugs at your heartstrings to see him like this, so open and more vulnerable than he’s allowed himself to be with anyone else. He’s already nodding rapidly but you’re not done.

“Can we go back, just for a little while? I just-”

You have to pause because the claws of despair are raking your skin as it crawls up your throat. 

“I just want it to be like before. I love you so much that it hurts and I just want it to be like before.”

He’s nodding eagerly now and his lips are already on yours, anchoring you to him because your love’s not enough to do so anymore. You push yourself up onto your knees so that you can grab his face between your hands, the face that you love so hard that it’s suffocating you. He steals your breath when he slips his tongue into your mouth and you feel lightheaded when his big hands slide underneath your shirt. Guilt plagues your thoughts but you push that aside for now: perhaps because it’s time for you to be selfish and you’ll allow yourself this, perhaps because you’d rather focus on the way that he tastes like cinnamon and the salt of your combined tears and he feels like home. 

The moment he wraps his arms around you to push you onto your back, you lean further into him because you want him as close to you as possible, trying desperately to become a part of him once more. The kisses he plants on you are like sugar and you want to inject them so that maybe you can be his sweetness again. The way your lips move in tandem makes your heart soar because it’s always been so easy - except when it’s not. 

Your shirt is thrown across the room, leaving you in only your panties and almost completely bare underneath his gaze. He stares at you reverently, silently worshipping you like a Madonna as rivers of tears pour from your eyes. His lips wrap around one of your peaked buds earnestly, his fingers rolling the other gently between them. The shock of pleasure that shoots through you almost makes you cry harder but you just bury your fingers in his hair, his tears hot on your soft skin. After he goes to give your other nipple the same attention, you pull him back to your lips. Without hesitation, he strips himself of his cable knit and shirt together, tossing them off the bed while you help him undo his belt. No words are exchanged when he kicks his pants off and your hand slips into his boxer briefs to stroke his hard length heavy in your hand because there’s nothing to say.

He pulls his underwear off too and after he does, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of yours and strips you entirely. You take a beat just to admire each other, chests heaving and eyes glassy. Ransom’s face is flushed and you’re sure that your eyes are red but you’re still as beautiful to each other as you’ve always been.

He buries his face in your neck and you shiver at the feeling of his warm breath. Your nipples are pressed against his muscled chest as you just lay there, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. When he slips himself into your wet heat, the stretch of his thick cock lights your body on fire and you cry out. He rocks back and forth until he’s fully sheathed, and his entire body shakes with a sob when the two of you are completely joined together. 

Your souls have fallen out of step but in this moment, they’re dancing again.

The rolling of his hips against yours is slow as he takes his time tearing you apart, molding you to his body because he doesn’t want to let you go either. He drinks in the sound of your whimpers like ice water while his body overheats with passion and when your hand tightly grips the hair at the nape of his neck, he picks up the pace, rutting into you with unbridled ardor and whispering your name like a prayer. With his lips buried in your skin, you can’t quite make out the muffled sounds of his cries until he moves them right next to your ear. 

“I love you, I’m sorry, I love you.”

And he says it over and over again and each time he does, it becomes more broken and you can feel the agony weighing down his voice. You’re so close to the edge and you can feel he is too, his thrusts becoming increasingly sloppy as he reaches down to rub at your clit so that you can finish at the same time. 

Broken pleas fall from your lips, a litany of “please, please, please” as he gives you exactly what he knows you need. Your nails rake up and down his back as he moves and his breath hitches. What you don’t expect is for him to pull away from your shoulder and prop himself up on his forearms to stare you dead in the eyes. You can’t handle the intensity so you try to avert your gaze, but he whines deep in his throat.

“Please, baby, please look at me - I love you, please,” he urges you tearfully, trying to catch your darting eyes.

Once your stare reluctantly locks back onto his, he laughs wetly, his quivering lips curving into a weak smile as he kisses your cheek sweetly. The sentimentality of it all is what pushes you over the edge, your entire body shaking with the aftershocks of your release and the sobs that continue to wrack your chest. A second later, Ransom stills his movements, moaning quietly as he spills into you. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, crying and breathing each other’s air as the dance of your souls starts to come to an end. You wonder what it’d be like if this was different, if you were weeping with happiness instead of sorrow. 

To halt that train of thought in its tracks, you extricate yourself from your fiancé and lock yourself in the ensuite.

When you come back out, Ransom is underneath the covers, eyes trained on you. You don’t say anything but you do crawl back into bed next to him, allowing him to smother you with kisses that usually make you giggle and pull you deep into his chest. 

Ransom takes a breath before he speaks. “Stay. Please, sweetness. Don’t go - I want you to be here when I wake up.”

You just nod, combing your fingers through his hair as you can see his eyes start to get heavy. 

“Sleep, baby. I’ll be here.”

---

It’s 1:22 a.m and you know you can’t stay. 

Ransom’s always been a deep sleeper and you’re lucky to have woken up in a moment when he’s not holding you in a vice-like grip. You flip back the covers and head to your closet, grabbing the nearest articles of clothing that you realize too late belong to the snoring man in your bed. 

It doesn’t even matter anymore. After putting them on, you grab a duffle bag from the bottom of your closet and start pulling clothes from your side of the wardrobe off of hangers, stuffing as much as you can into the bag before sliding the zipper across. 

You’re on your way out but you can’t resist peeking over your shoulder to ensure that Ransom’s still asleep,  and you can’t help the small smile on your lips when you see that he’s still knocked out, mouth wide open with an arm hanging off the bed. Your head pounds from all the crying you’ve been doing but a burst of glee numbs the pain at the sight of the man-child in front of you. You’re a breath away from dropping your bag and slipping back into bed with him, your baby, your honey, your sweetheart.

But you don’t because he doesn’t deserve that and you deserve some time for you. And as the door clicks behind you, you can’t help but think that this is only fair. 

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[tomsrebeleyebrow]

grab it hard | th x fem!reader

credits gif by @tomhollandd

Summary: What could go wrong when Tom decide to post a video on his Instragram story? Pretty much everything. And now, one single thought runs into your head: taking advantage of it fully.

Warnings:  SMUT including unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), reader having a dom moment, dirty talk/language, a lot of grabbing, muscles appreciation (or general muscle kink i guess)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: okay well- let’s say that tom’s IG story... brought the worst in us all and by that i mean we may have lost our sanity as our hormones took complete control of ourselves 😂 *cough* damn that brit boy and his attractive body 🥵🥵🥵 *cough* ANYWAY! my dear @thollandss​ got the idea yesterday and well, I said I would write it so here it is! enjoy, dear sinful beauts 😏🙊🔥

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The evening is going quite slowly compared to the rest of the day. Everyone in the house has been up to something, such as Tom and Harry going to the nearest park to play with Tessa, Harrison visiting his mum and sister Charlotte and Tuwaine out to buy some groceries.

And here you are now laying on the couch in the living room, watching whatever Netflix has suggested you and by yourself. The boys are in the house too, but doing their own things.

But out of nowhere, your ears catch a weird noise coming from the back of the house. At first, you don’t pay too much attention to it and go back to lazily stare at the tv. But then it starts again, going for a bit longer. Intrigued, you mute the tv and listen carefully to identify the origin of this sound. 

And a smirk makes its way to your face. As you quietly stand from the couch, you walk to the hallway that leads to the different bedrooms, and wait at the entrance of it. And listen. What you at first thought were “noises” seem to be groans and breathing, and all coming from Tom’s bedroom.

Someone’s horny, uh?

After only three minutes, silence comes back so you decide to go sit again on the couch, acting like nothing happened, and tease the hell out of your boyfriend once he will exist his bedroom. 

Back in the comfort of the couch, your phone dings as you see an Instagram’s notification on the screen. But when you open it, your jaw just drops while staring at the screen: your boyfriend half shirtless crouching against the wall, panting and groaning so loudly your brain makes a flip. 

What is that ten seconds videos, out of nowhere, and without any context to it?! Your face is now a deep red and you feel drops of sweat forming everywhere on your body, pressing your thighs together to get some relieve. So many obscene thoughts come through your mind and you can’t stop them at all, not after watching this much display of... everything your boyfriend has. 

Guess you are the horny one now.

* * * *

At some point Harrison, Harry and Tuwaine enter in the living room, chatting vividly as they make their way to the kitchen. Tom soon follows them as his friends laugh at him, the boy grumbling at his phone.

You are still on the couch and just listen, not making a single sound.

“Mate, you’re definitely sooooooo bad with Instagram!” Harrison laughs while opening the fridge.

“I bet ya he broke the entire app!” Tuwaine soon follows, thanking Harrison as he takes a bottle of beer.

“Oh come on, now” growls Tom, “This app is so weird, ‘not my fault it doesn’t upload normally!”

“Yeah right, as if” Harry mumbles, trying to not laugh at his older brother.

The conversation goes on for a bit when Tom finally notices you on the couch. So the boy takes this opportunity to walk towards you, leaving his friends making fun of him even more.

“Hi babe” Tom says behind you, bending slightly to kiss your temple, “Want something to drink? ‘m gonna cook soon if you wanna join.”

“I’m waiting a little bit” you simply reply, not daring to look at him.

Tom nods and leaves another kiss on your cheek before joining the boys again, all of them standing around the kitchen island while drinking and munching some snacks. Later they all disappear in their bedroom again, ready to play some “Warzone” or whatever that thing is.

You slowly turn your head towards the kitchen and notice Tom by himself, looking inside the fridge while drinking his beer. You recognise the shirt and shorts from the video, these clothes tight on every muscle of his body.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up and causally walk and sit on one of the high chairs around the kitchen island. Your eyes gladly run along Tom’s back and lower, appreciating every single one as they tense and relax when your boyfriend moves. You feel hot again, eyes full of want and so much more. Your head leans on one hand as you start thinking, quick and fast, while Tom puts some vegetables on the counter to cook them.

Now determined, you stand again and slowly walk towards Tom, now standing behind him as he still doesn’t notice you. And out of nowhere, you shamelessly slap both hands on his ass, snatching a high squeal from him before firmly grabbing his butt cheeks and making him whimper.

“So pretty boy, enjoyed showing off and being all grunting for the internet?” you mewl in his ear, your chest pressing against his muscled back. 

Tom whimpers again, feeling your nails through the fabric of his shorts and pressing onto the skin. You run your lips on his nape, your teeth slightly brushing the thin skin there.

“This ass here is mine, you know that right? Like all your body is” you now grunt smoothly and biting into his lobe. You press against Tom’s frame more, your hips perfectly flat onto his ass while you keep massaging it.

Tom tightens his grip on the counter, his breathing getting louder as he feels his shorts being too tight against his cock.

“F-fuck (Y/N), wait-”

You interrupt him by sliding one hand to his front, first appreciating his abs throughout the shirt and slowly going lower to rest on his growing bulge. Now Tom doesn’t retain his groaning anymore and grabs your hand to press it harder against his cock.

“You horny pretty girl, you’d be the death of me” Toms breaths out, stretching his head behind to make contact with your face.

“I swear you better fuck me hard right now before I fucking lose it, Thomas.”

And that was what Tom needed. In no time the boy turns around to face you, now his broad body towering over yours and with eyes that could tear off your clothes off in a second. Almost savagely Tom smashes his lips on yours, the kiss being mainly tongue and teeth as his arms lift you up. You instantly wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, your fingers messing with his hair and scratching his scalp. Your clothed core brushes over his hard on, making you moan in his mouth but still grind more against it.

“Fuck me, Tom, now!” you whine almost desperately.

“I’m gonna destroy you, ‘gonna make ya scream my name so loud you’ll forget yours for weeks, baby girl” Tom groans, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it. 

With his ounce of composure left - to not take you right on top of the counter -, Tom starts walking towards his bedroom while he still appreciates your thighs with his strong hands. Both of you are just moaning messes by now, not even caring about walking past the other boys’ bedrooms.

Once in Tom’s bedroom, he simply slams it shut with his foot before also slamming you onto it. The kisses are getting more sloppier, saliva making its way in the corner of your mouth and just licking it back as you kiss again. Your hands cup Tom’s face, slightly pressing your nails onto his cheek to wrest beautiful whimpers out of him. 

But when you suddenly detach from him, Tom nearly moans and desperately moves his hips back and forth against yours. Getting too hot you hurry and take your hoodie off, throwing it somewhere in the room. And Tom can’t help but drink into this gorgeous view of you in a lace bra, all flushed and panting with need and desire.

Licking his lips, Tom almost runs to his bed and throws you on top of the mattress. Not losing another second, he undresses himself in a time record, his clothes soon joining yours on the floor but then, he catches your gaze and smirks.

“Enjoying the view, gorgeous?” he cheekily asks, perfectly knowing the answer already. 

As he stands in his boxer, you eye up his almost exposed body and how much you want to touch, kiss, lick and bite any inch of it. Tom never really liked the build he got for ‘Far From Home’, saying he looked way too buff for his heigh. And ironically, he had to go back in this shape for ‘Uncharted’ and you never felt this pleased.

“Can’t help it, your groaning are arousing as fuck. And...” you soothe, seductively biting your bottom lip. You run your hands over your body before sliding off your shorts slowly along your legs, leaving you in your underwear, on total display for his coffee eyes. “... I love it when you’re being vocal.’

“Fuckin’ shit, you’re gonna get it hard (Y/N)...”

True to his words, Tom growls as he joins you on the bed, his body in between your legs and his upper body caging you with his arms on both side your head. He aggressively goes back at kissing you, his hands petting over the plush curvature of your breast before he gets rid of the bra. He doesn’t lose time by soon taking off your lace panties, almost ripping them up with his strength. As excited as him, your thighs press more around his waist, bringing him closer against you while you try to push his boxer off.

Now both equally naked, Tom presses himself more onto you, chest to chest and his hard cock rubbing against your wet core, the feeling tearing a moan out of him. Having him at your mercy, your hands wander on his back muscles, tracing them with your fingers as if remembering them by heart is your final goal. You also worship his biceps, strong and hard as you squeeze them at times, his broad shoulders and beautiful neck, that you soon attack both with hickeys and nibbles.

Heavy breathing and groaning submerge the entire room,Tom’s one being way louder than yours. And him being at his limits, he grabs your hips firmly before sliding his girth deep between your tight folds. You both moan sharply into each other’s mouth, feeling his saliva pool at the back of your throat as he gives you a passionate and rough french kiss. Both of his hands squeeze at your warm hips before gripping your skin tightly as he starts a very deep and incredible pace.

Instantly you cling to his skin which is a combination of warm, smooth and sweaty. An intoxicatingly sweet aroma wafting into your nose that makes him all the more addicting. Even the thrust of his hips slapping against your own send desire filled tingles all over your body, the incredible sway of heat singeing off your skin.

“Oh m-my God, T-Tom!” you moan completely unhinged all of your praise directly into the rim of his ear, before biting and nibbling it. He growls from the incredibly grip your folds has on his cock, driving him insane with desire to fuck you as hard and deep as possible.

"O-oh fuck, you're completely soaking my cock already..." Tom rasps, hot and heavy lascivious words about how wet your pussy is making his cock. Telling you in naughty detail how it was making it easier for him to slide back and forth, and even the pulse of your folds against his manhood telling him just how close you are.

Both of your hands grip at his back tightly, digging your nails into the skin and leaving him a few feint scratches, trembling from the overwhelming build of pleasure as he presses against all the right pleasure zones inside your body. And as your nails slide along his back, you take advantage of it and slam the palm of your hands on his butt cheeks with all your might. 

This sudden move wrests the loudest whine from Tom’s lips, being breathless for at least two seconds because of the impact. You feel his cock throb between your walls, making you clench against him as you are overwhelmed by so many sensations.  

“C-Come on Tom, I w-wanna hear you more baby!” you gasp, pressing your nose against the skin of his neck when he starts hitting that overwhelming pleasure zone inside your body again.

And Tom can only comply to your demand, letting more erotic sounds leave his mouth. Both of his rough hands slide from your hips to the bottom of your ass, where he now copies your moves to push and pull your body to meet with his deep thrusts. 

From the way your body shakes and twitches you are close, making him pound into your core faster and deeper till he finally feels the warm sensation of your arousal coating his cock and dripping down his thighs. Tom moans against your lips while he continues to thrust sloshing your juices, until he abruptly pull away warming a bit of your stomach and inner thighs with his arousal.

Out of stamina, Tom let himself falls on top of you, out of breath but mostly swimming into a pure state of bliss. While watching you try to steady the heavy breathing and pound of your heart, his glazed eyes find yours before meeting your lips in a sloppy but lazy kiss.

“From now on, those type of videos are only for me. Not for the Internet, understand?” you mumble into the kiss, your hands still wandering on top of his ass, massaging it.

“Can’t promise you anything, darlin’...”

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