#here's a quick thing i did in less than an hour

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 15: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should purchase some new shoes for himself while he's in the city...

~

It costs quite a bit of coin, but in the end he decides that having a new sturdy pair of boots will serve him well on his travels. After he's done in the shop, he rushes back to the local inn before nightfall, eventually settling into a somewhat restless sleep..

The next morning, he orders some cheap vegetable stew from a food stall, then lounges in a park as he has his breakfast, watching the squirrels weave through flowering trees and birds pecking about in the dewy grass.. When finished with his meal (and sufficiently recovered from the emotional turmoil of burning his tongue on the soup), he quickly sells his old pair of shoes to a sketchy pawn shop before finally getting back to his journey...

By his calculations, if he he walks all day, it should only be two more sleeps before he gets to his destination, so he sets out to travel as efficiently as possible. He doesn't have the money to rent a cart, or the skill to ride a borrowed horse, but, he does have some fancy new walking shoes and a renewed sense of purpose. No more meandering through fields looking for flowers, napping in the shade, or scanning the ground for cool rocks.. He's going to focus this time!

......After a few hours, he comes across a broken down carriage in the middle of the road, with few people surrounding it, seemingly stuck trying to repair a wheel or something. It's hard to discern from afar..

Maybe if he helps them, he could get a free ride.. or some coins.. or make a new lifelong friend! Who knows? Possibilities flood his mind, this is what adventuring is all about! Wandering into interesting situations and making the most out of them!! .. But, then he recalls his previous oath.. he's supposed to focus today and not allow himself to sidetracked.. And who says he has the skills to help anyway? It could always just be a waste of time... Hmm...

What should he do?

~

~

Additional Information

the adventurer's current main quest: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

[weaselle]

i had to make a solution for this for myself, mostly because of depression, but it makes a nice How To for folks who are low on spoons or could use some help in the kitchen.

Fortunately i was a professional cook for over a decade. UNfortunately the first post i made explaining it was suuuuper long. Let's see if i can do better

So you select any protein that you can cook in a frying pan -- chicken breasts, ground beef, pork chops, sausages, steak, chicken thighs, whatever. You also select one or two types of veggie (mushrooms or tubers also work, i just did this with potatoes and carrots for dinner tonight).

[i like cooking for vegetarians, but this is how i cook for myself when i'm low on spoons - perhaps i'll do another post for meatless meals]

You'll also need some kind of oil, and a sauce or two of your choice in a bottle. All cooking gear is a large frying pan with lid (i prefer non-stick) a spatula, a cutting board, and a knife.

You cut the veggies into bite size pieces, cut up enough for two meals. One kind of veggie is fine, or you can do mix two or three

Put frying pan on medium heat with a little oil. Tubers or mushrooms or go in the pan a few minutes before the protein. 2 portions of the protein goes in the pan, about 5 minutes with lid (don't worry you can still get a good sear on both sides)

Now flip your protein if it's flip-able and add normal veggies, put the lid back on another five-ish minutes.

Take your protein out and put it with one portion of the veggies in a microwave safe container. That's going to be your lunch tomorrow. Put the other portion of protein on a plate to rest (you have to let a cooked protein sit a couple minutes before you serve it or when you cut into it all the juices run out and it goes dry - the liquids thicken as it cools, preventing this drying out if you let it rest, the goal is to serve it very warm but not hot hot)

While it's resting, pour some sauce from your bottle in the pan with the rest of the veggies and turn up the heat. A single sauce/bottle is fine, i like to get fancy and mix a couple. Two examples of personal favorite mixes are 1: bbq sauce and a hot sauce like sriracha 2: roughly equal parts low sodium soy sauce and worcestershire (makes something similar to a teriyaki sauce) A swallow of wine is almost always a great option if you want to add that to your sauce too, just add it to the pan before the other sauces so the alcohol has time to burn off.

...

Here is the important bit. While your veggies are finishing, wash your cutting board and chef knife. Then when you dump your veggies and sauce over your protein on the plate, while it is still too hot to eat, you wash your frying pan and spatula before you eat. Now the only dishes you have left to do are your plate and fork. Maybe a steak knife.

...

The whole thing takes about 35 minutes even with washing the dishes, and that includes your lunch for the next day- just pour a different sauce on and stick it in the microwave for a couple minutes (or five minutes back in the frying pan) and you have a full healthy lunch with a different flavor

You can use this technique every single meal and it yields hundreds of combinations, from pork and potatoes bbq, to salmon and broccoli teriyaki, to chicken and zucchini in a soy glaze.

It will keep you down to less than an hour of kitchen time per day total for both lunch and dinner including all dish clean up, uses the least dishes, the least effort, requires the least technique, and is, depending on what you pick out, very affordable

here are a couple more examples from this month; i didn’t take pictures of the salmon i did recently, but you get the idea

it's not super fancy, but it is easy, affordable, quick, and any flavors you want. Hope this helps some folks

Happy Cooking!

[phagodyke]

this assay is so fucking fake......

[bumpkinspice0]

Office Hours

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: A few months into working back at the mansion and Logan still can't keep his hands off you. A/N: This is vaguely tied to my other Logan fic "No One Knows…" but not at all required reading. All you need to really know is reader is a returning X-Man that can control Earth/ rocks and is codenamed Dozer (Short for Bulldozer) Warnings: S M U T, medium plot??? but mostly just porn, established relationship, under desk blowjobs, office sex, light dom/ sub, a single spank possessive Logan (Someone needs to put me down)

AO3 if you prefer to read there

Logan Masterlist

_______

The morning light pours in through the windows of your bedroom. Logan holds you close against him in bed while you, less than enthusiastically, try to squirm out of his grasp.

A few months back into your old life at X-mansion and you can confidently say it was the best decision you’d ever made in a long, long time. All the kids returned to a brand new environmental science teacher and a newly reconstructed mansion that somehow looked almost exactly the same— give or take a few changes to the gardens.

You’d missed this, you missed being part of the X team, whether it was as an X-Man or just a teacher. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were making a real tangible difference in people's lives. 

Yes, you desperately wanted to return to your roots and start over— but he was also a nice perk to all the chaos. 

Your relationship with Logan was just as new as your employment in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. He reeled you in like a fish on a hook. Whatever the two of you had, it was nice. You think it had been a long time since he had something like this too. Someone to care for. Someone to please. 

Neither of you could keep your hands off each other. 

It was too early for ‘I love you’s’ or to declare something like moving in together, but he already spent most nights in your room as it was. If he didn’t spend the night he’d find you in the early morning just to hear you moan his name. That boy was determined never to let you sleep— not that you’re really complaining.

You’d never had a lover like Logan. Someone so… starved. He craved your touch, rambled on about your scent, and held you on the edge for what felt like hours. It was all new and some parts of it, admittedly, a little weird, but fuck was it exciting. 

You’d started a new life for yourself, more or less. Started over, more accurately. And he was there to soften all the blows. You hope you did the same for him. 

You can’t believe you thought he ever had ulterior motives about you when you came back. Once you found out you both had more similar pasts than you’d realized, you were sure the only thing he'd want was information from you. How glad you were to be wrong. 

Victims of the same cruelty but you were both different. You still had your memories. Your identity. He didn't. 

You vowed to help find out who he was, and that seemed to mean more to him than anything— but it was a slow process. Old information and long abandoned facilities. Still, you had each other through all of this and that helped the pain, just a little. Facing your demons together. 

Right now, however, Logan was your only tangible demon. He still had you trapped in bed and late for class. 

“Just a quickie,” he purrs, nibbling at your ear.  

“I have a class to teach in 20 minutes. You should have gotten here earlier,” You muster up any strength you have against him, “And it’s never quick with you.”

“Or you just don’t want it to be quick,” His mouth finds your bare shoulder, already marked with week's worth of love bites from him. You can’t deny the trill of excitement it sends through you.

This fucking man. 

You want to. Lord in heaven, you really, really want to. Sometimes this being a responsible mentor thing got in the way.

“Logan…” You push lightly against his chest. It’s not much of a protest, really. None of your weak-willed squirming was.

“Okay… okay,” His grip around your waist finally loosens and you reluctantly get out of bed. He gives your ass a playful spank as you do. 

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” You scold him with a smile as you dig through your dresser for anything that was clean. 

“Got a good reason to be,” He grins, resting his arms behind his head and stretching out over the bed. You can’t help the blush that creeps into your cheeks. Logan never missed an opportunity to compliment you. 

You, a little reluctantly, pull on a pair of jeans and one of his white shirts. Slowly but surely all your laundry was getting intermingled to the point of no return. That and you know he always liked when you wore something of his. You don’t think any of your own tee-shirts were clean anyway.

Yeah, it’s probably time to do laundry. 

You top it off with a loose black cardigan to seem somewhat teacherly. You gather your folders with today’s syllabus. You had three classes today. Logan usually had two— if you could you really call PE and survival basics a class. The kids usually just roped him and Kurt into playing flag football with them. It was adorable in its own Logany way.

“I’ll see you out there, Professor Logan,” you give him a peck on the forehead before shimming on your shoes. 

“God, don’t ever call me that again.” He chuckles, covering his face with his forearm.

“Would you prefer daddy?”

His hand immediately drops, “Don’t tempt me, darlin’.”

You’re at the door now, giving yourself one last moment to admire the perfect man sprawled out in your bed.

“Don’t sleep in too late,” you open the door. 

“See you out there, toots.”

______

There are only a few more warm days left in fall and you refuse to let them go to waste. You always liked holding classes outside anyway. This was Environmental Science after all. As an earthmover, it always felt natural. Feeling the actual ground under your feet made everything easier to teach in a way. 

You’re teaching the different types of erosion this week. The class is gathered on the grass on the edge of the pond as you hover different rocks around them. Examples of river-smoothed stones, bed clay, and a few from the Grand Canyon you’d brought in from your personal collection. 

You’d never thought of yourself as the best teacher but the kids seemed to at least enjoy the theatricality. You knew dirt. You knew the earth, and that seemed to be enough.

You hear the PE class run out onto the other side of the lawn, Logan dutifully following behind them. You don’t even need to look to feel his eyes on you. You're not sure if you're irritated by the distraction or think it’s a little cute he wants to be near you.

Well, if he’s going to distract you and your class, you might as well distract him. The kids had started a game of frisbee golf, something his full attention didn’t need to be on anyway.  Logan always joked he was just a glorified babysitter. You take off your cardigan when you feel a small gust of wind. His head immediately snaps your direction when you do. 

He’d told you before he liked the mix of your scents. The more animalistic part of him liked it anyway. He always seemed ashamed of it, despite your insistence you didn’t care. You could never truly understand, sure, but that didn’t change your feelings for him. Besides, you didn’t mind feeding the animal every once in a while. 

You’d reached the end of your class period and quickly dismissed your students, reminding them of the homework as they scurried back into the mansion. You remain outside, cleaning up the small mess your lesson had made. 

You still feel Logan’s eyes on you. You can’t help the excitement his gaze stirs in you. Logan did something to you no other man had ever done— he made you feel desirable in ways you’d never experienced. 

It was an incredible turn-on, to say the least.

You feel your panties slowly start to wetten. You see a shift in his posture in the distance. You smile, bending over to pick up the loose papers you’d left on a nearby bench. You pause there far longer than you needed to— just a small tease but you know it’s something that’ll drive you crazy. He always said he liked you in these jeans the most.

You feel his eyes burning into your back the entire walk to the mansion. You can’t help but smile.

______

You're leaning against the front of your desk, looking over tomorrow's lesson, when you hear his signature booming steps hurrying down the hallway. It’d been an hour since your last class ended. He enters the office, closing the door behind him immediately. 

“Professor Logan,” You greet him teasingly, leaning back against the desk. 

He says nothing as he stalks towards you with heavy steps, crashing his mouth into yours. You pull him in as he inserts his body between your legs. His mouth is hungry against yours— desperate even. His lips trail down to your jaw.

“You think you’re cute, huh? Prancing around in my clothes, showing off your ass, gettin’—”

“I’m very cute,” you giggle as he nips at you.

He growls, pulling you up to lead you back to the desk chair. He liked it when you sat on his lap. It was both of your lunch breaks. You’d always spend them together, though usually not in your shared office.

Charles required everyone to have office hours, even Logan. He fought it every step of the way until he finally relented to just sharing yours. He was almost never here. He didn’t have a reason to be— well unless you were there. His desk sits across from yours just as bare as the day it was put in. Yours, on the other hand, was quickly cluttering as the school year went on.

“Still worked up from this morning,” Logan admits as he nips at your lip, “Need you, sweet thing.”

Absolutely insatiable.

“Poor boy,” You tease, your hands slowly trailing down to his obnoxious belt buckle. “I’ll take care of you.”

You always liked to tease him more than you’d care to admit. He’d get so worked up over the smallest things. You were always happy to indulge him… every fucking time. 

You sink down to your knees, pulling his jeans with you. His cock bulges out against his boxers, already hard and waiting. You palm at him, giving him a rough squeeze through the fabric. He hums in approval. God, he always felt so good.

There’s almost a sigh of relief when you pull him free. You give him a few rough strokes before your tongue follows, trailing up from his base and swirling around his tip, pre cum already leaking free. His rough hands grip your hair as you lavish his cock with your tongue. 

You pause at the tip, placing a single feather light kiss before taking him completely into your mouth. He chokes out a strangled moan, doing his best to stay quiet. Luckily, the walls of the mansion were thick. 

The grip in your hair tightens as you find a rhythm. 

“T-that's it,” his voice is shaky, dripping with pleasure, “Just like that. Good girl.”

He always praised you. Whether giving or receiving, he always made sure you felt seen. 

A part of this excited you so much. It was scandalous, having him splayed out like this at your work desk, doing your best to suppress the moans that brew in your throat from the thrill of it all. You loved making him fall apart. This was just as much for him as it was for you. You were both having fun. Both acting like giddy, horny, little teenagers. 

His grip in your hair shifts, and you feel him tense under you. He can’t be close already? Before you have time to ask what’s going on you’re being shoved underneath your own desk. You want to scream what the absolute fuck?! before you hear the office door being clicked open.

“Logan?” It's Scott’s voice. 

“What?” Logan bites out, leaning over the front of the desk to conceale you completely. Thank god Charles always insisted on these massive solid oak desks.

“I’m just— You’re sitting at Dozer’s desk,” Scott stammers out. 

“Had something I needed,” he quickly lied. 

You’re cramped into a wooden box basically, one of the walls being made out of thick muscled legs with a heavy cock still hanging between them. You were playing a game with Logan, might as well make it more interesting. 

“Have you seen her?” Scott asks, “I needed—”

“No.” Logan only grits out, “She’s probably down in the—”

He cuts himself off the moment your hand grasps his cock again. You can’t help but smile when you run your tongue back up the velvet length. He can’t move his arms because that would expose you. He can’t move his legs because there’s not enough room with you between them. He’s stuck here while you torture him in the sweetest way possible. You don’t miss the way his cock jumps when you take him back into your mouth. 

“She���s where Logan?” Scott, blissfully unaware, prompts him.

“I don’t— I don’t fucking know,” You swear you can almost feel him shaking with the effort to keep his voice steady, “Why don’t you go fucking look for her then, huh?”

There isn’t as much room to move your head as you’d like, so you let your tongue and hands do most of the work. 

“Well, can I just get on her computer?” You hear Scott take a step closer. Oh no, “I just need a—”

“Piss off, Summers!” He practically growls it out. “You need her then go fucking find her.”

You hear Scott scoff as he takes a step back. To be fair, this was completely in character for the two of them. It was doubtful Scott suspected anything. You reach up and give Logan’s balls a gentle fondle while you worship his tip with your tongue as silently as you can.

Finally, you hear Scott retreat to the hallway. 

“I don’t know why she’s with you, Logan. I really don’t.” He spits before slamming the door behind him. 

Logan doesn’t waste a second once the door is closed again, pushing the chair back and grabbing your face roughly. His cock falls from your mouth with a wanton gasp. You must look like a mess but can’t bring yourself to care.

He just holds you there for a moment, your mouth just inches away from his cock. His eyes have glossed over with lust. He loved this, you know he fucking loved this because you did too. 

“You’re trouble,” he says, pulling you both to standing, “You’re so much fucking trouble.”

He turns you around and bends you over the desk immediately, a few pencil cups shaking with the force. He yanks down your jeans a little rougher than you’d like but you still kick them off the rest of the way. Your underwear still remained in place. He kicks your legs wider and trails a hand up your back, pressing his palm down between your shoulders. His other hand drips between your legs, a finger rubbing over your clothed pussy.

“Fucking soaked through already?” he purrs. “You get wet sucking my cock, baby?”

“Yes.” It practically comes out as a plea. Well, it’s only fair he’s toying with you now. Your legs are almost shaking in anticipation. 

You squirm as he starts to rub the damp fabric directly over your clit. His hand on your back presses you down harder, pinning you in place. He’s doing what you did to him— in his own way. Trapped at his mercy. 

He pushes your underwear to the side, two fingers running through your slick folds a few times before delving in. You bite your lip to suppress a moan, barely successful in silencing yourself. He curls his fingers, back and forth as he works his hand up and down. Anyone could walk in that door at any moment. Logan would stop if he heard anyone coming again—right?

“You know what you do to me?” His voice is ragged, almost pained, “Fuck, do you have any idea?”

His pace is speeding up and your restraint is slipping, but there’s nothing you can do to get out of this. And, fuck you don’t want him to stop either. You’re completely his right now. 

You finally let out a wail when rips his hand out of your cunt and slaps it across your ass. His touch stays there, gripping the stinging skin, sharp pain quickly melting to the pleasure that was racking your whole body. He takes his other hand off your back. You don’t move, your stomach stirring in anticipation.

It feels better than it should when his hard, massive cock runs over your soaked pussy. He’d dialed up all of your nerves to eleven. You involuntarily ach back into him like a fucking bitch in heat.

“Oh Christ, why are you with me…” he lines himself up, “That’s what Summers said, right? He doesn’t know why you’re with me?”

“Logan—” You attempt to speak up before the air in your lungs vanishes when he thrusts inside of you in one jarring motion. He stays there a good moment, grinding his hips into your ass, gathering himself. God, he was so fucking deep. He draws out and slams back in again. You hear the desk creaking in protest this time, several items falling off. 

He leans over you, hot tongue trailing up your spine before nuzzling his face in next to your ear. 

“I know why,” He starts to roll his hips against yours. His imposing body and magic dick were taking over every sense you had. God, you wish you could scream. “It’s because you know no one else can fuck you like I can. Can take care of you like I can.”

He nips at your ear as he finds a pace, tiny low grunts escaping in rhythm with his hips. This was just as much about dominating you as it was about being as close to you as humanly possible. Mixing your scents and desires together until the line is blurred between the two. Yes, Logan fucked you unlike anyone else had, and your certain better than anyone else ever could, but he also loved you harder than you ever knew possible. 

Loyal to a fault. It’s instincts, he always said. You always hated when he compared himself to an animal, but in a lot of ways it's just part of who he was. He seemed past trying to deny it and embrace it in his own way. Let the beast free, so to speak. 

“Tell me,” He growls into your ear, “Tell me who makes you feel this good.”

You struggled to form the single-word answer, but it eventually came out, whined and shaky. 

“Y-y-you,” you swear you’re drooling, “O-only you, b-baby. O-only—” You trail off, likely losing all brain function to the intoxicating filth of it all. 

“That’s right. T-that’s right,” he chants a few times like he’s fucking praising himself for it, “Only me. You’re all mine. I’m all yours.”

You’re not sure if it’s a gasp of surprise or pain that escapes you when he lifts you both. He holds you against him, still fucking you while you’re both standing. You’re forced to stand on your tiptoes, your hands grasping onto the forearm around your chest for any sense of balance. You weighed nothing to him. He’s still fucking you senseless. He’s holding you both up and still fucking you senseless.

You swear you go blind when his other hand snakes down to your clit. 

“Shoulda stayed in bed this morning,” His stubble rubs against your cheek, “Wouldn’t have to fuck you like this if we— shit— if we had time this morning.”

“L–Logan, I–I—” You start to warn him but can’t manage to get it all out. Nevertheless, you’re sure he knows. He always knows when you’re close. You feel it, the mounting pressure at your core. Sweet, precious relief. 

“I know, baby. I know.” 

It hits you like a train, hard and almost completely by surprise. The hand around your chest immediately comes up to clamp around your mouth. You scream against his palm while he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, practically using you like a goddamn sex toy at this point. 

He mutters out a string of curses while he attempts to maintain his equilibrium— and eventually fails. He collapses back into the chair behind him, dragging you with him. He almost slips out. Almost. He holds you close against his chest, hips completely still against your ass as he pulses rope after rope into you.

“Good girl, good girl,” you hear him muttering into your neck like a prayer. 

Your haggard moans into his hand eventually fade into one long heavy sigh, finally allowing yourself to relax against him. You feel his body unwind as well, his previously firm hand over your mouth coming to stroke your cheek. His lips lull around your neck, placing sloppy kiss after sloppy kiss wherever he could reach. He was always so gentle after sex. Those hands that were so rough just a moment ago gently glide over your skin. You always find comfort in their heft. 

“Do you think anyone heard us?” you finally ask, leaning your head back against his. 

“Fuck ‘em if they did,” he nuzzles himself right under your jaw. Close— he always had to be so close. 

“Charles is gonna fire us if he ever finds out,” you bring your hands up to your face, rubbing into your eyes just a little too hard.

“You can’t fire an X-Man.”

“Teachers, Logan, we’re teachers.” Ah good, the mortification was settling in just in time to ruin the moment. Fabulous. 

“Stop it,” you swear you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“He’s gonna read our minds and see what absolute animals we are and he’s gonna fire us.” The irony that you're saying this out loud while Logan is still fully inside you in your shared office is not lost on you. You feel his chest bouncing against your back, chuckling lightly at your dismay of your surely oncoming termination. You can’t help but laugh along with him, just a little. 

You eventually untangle your bodies and fish your pants off the floor. Maybe you had time for a shower before your next class. Christ, you need one. Logan wasn’t the only mutant with advanced senses in the school and the last thing you need is teenagers starting a rumor mill about two teachers fucking in their office. Still, when you look back at Logan you know you’d do it all over again regardless.

Whatever this was with him, whatever you’d started, you know you can’t stop it. The thought should terrify you, but for once you’re not afraid.

You reach out and grab his hand, “Wanna grab lunch?”

“Thought you’d never ask, darlin’.”

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[purplecoffee13]

Please, Please, Please - pt.1

Summary: “Harry is utterly fascinated by his new neighbor, Y/N, and takes it upon himself to protect her. But little does Y/N know, that Harry may be the person she is supposed to be running from…”

Wc: 5.6k

Tropes: good girl x bad boy / neighbors

Warnings: mentions of violence, cursing, bit of gaslighting.

A/N: THIS IS A TWO PART ONE SHOT based on this request. Please note that it is based around the MUSIC VIDEO, not necessarily the song itself! I decided to cut it up into two parts, because it was getting awfully long, and I was too eager to share it with you. Next part will be steamy!

General Masterlist

PART 2

You sigh, looking up at your new home. Well— you think. You're not exactly sure which window is yours, but you will figure it out once you're on the right floor. You adjust the duffel bag that is slung over your shoulder, and grab your suitcase before walking towards the entrance.

With your new set of keys which you got from the landlord yesterday, you open the door to the lobby. Or, hallway with post boxes. That would definitely be a more accurate way to describe it.

When you were little and fantasized about moving into a place of your own, you have to admit, you did imagine something a bit less... intimidating. Unfortunately, you had been left with no choice.

Ever since your dad died about five years ago, your mother has been serial dating like there was no tomorrow. You had learned to ignore the different men in your kitchen, eating the cereal and drinking your coffee at 7am, but lately something had changed.

Your mother had stuck with one man.

Sadly for you—and your mother, although she wasn't ready to admit that—the guy was a fucking prick. Worst thing about him? He was sneaky about it. When you confronted your mother, telling her you weren't sure if her new boyfriend was that good of a guy, she had flipped out. As she threw all kinds of accusations on the table, such as you not wanting her to be happy and even insinuating you want her boyfriend for herself, you decided that enough was enough.

That night, you hunted the internet for an affordable place. It's how you found this apartment. You knew it wasn't the best neighborhood, but it was a place of your own, and you were sure that you could make it on your own over there.

After all, you had a well paid office job not too far away, and the costs of the apartment wouldn't interfere too much with your saving for law school.

So, kind of on a whim, you contacted the landlord. And now, here you are, ready to unpack all of your stuff. Your mother had at least been so kind to hire a moving truck, but you think it mainly had to do with her wanting you out of her house as quick as possible. You shared the sentiment, so you hadn't said much about it, besides a polite thank you of course.

It takes you three hours to get everything upstairs, and the janitor, Rod, even helps you out with some of the big furniture. Being a tall, broad guy, appearing to be in his sixties, you had actually been quite unnerved by him. Nevertheless, you decided to play smart and throw him a sweet smile the first time you ran into him. It had faded the seemingly permanent  frown on his ever so slightly, and after introducing yourself, his face was even neutral.

It didn't take more than three minutes of chit chat before Rod had warmed up to you, and by the end of the fifteen minutes, he offered to help you. If it hadn't been for him, you would've still been carrying pieces of your couch into your apartment.

You had been able to take over the bed frame and the dining table from the previous owner, so you only had to put your mattress on your bed before you could let yourself fall on it and chill out for a while.

After letting yourself rest for about fifteen minutes, you unpack as much of the stuff in the kitchen, and you spend the rest of the night unpacking your clothes while dancing to the music that blasts through your headphones.

At around midnight, you pass out during a feeble attempt at sorting your socks.

Your peaceful slumber gets interrupted, however, by an array of less peaceful noises coming from another apartment. The first few minutes awake are spent with your eyes stubbornly closed, hoping to fall asleep again, but when you hear an extremely loud thud, your eyes shoot open.

Getting up from your bedroom, you walk over to your door, and look through the peephole. It doesn't seem like there is anyone in the hallway, and the sounds do seem to have quieted down. You sigh, turning around to go back to your bed, when you hear a shout, followed by another thump. Frowning, you go back and open the door, walking out into the hallway. You squint, and blink a few times to get used to the harsh light. Then, you knock on the door in front of you.

There's a couple of voices sounding from inside the apartment, but no one answers. You groan, knocking again, and even harsher this time. It grows quiet, and you are contemplating going back to bed, hoping whoever is on the other side of that wall got the message, but then the door swings open.

In front of you stands a man, with brown curls and a very apparent frown on his face. One that falters ever so slightly at the sight of you, and is accompanied by a small smirk. He leans against the door frame. His cross necklace dangles, visible by his dress shirt that is far from buttoned all the way up, and you swear it hypnotizes you for the shortest second.

"H-hi." You stammer, looking at the man with wide eyes. His smirk grows, and you forget why you are even here.

"Hello." He greets back, hands sliding into his pockets as he looks you up and down, shamelessly. "What can I do for you, sweetheart?"

"Uh, I just moved into the apartment across from you, and I was wondering if you could keep down the noise a little bit?" You ask, but the man doesn't respond. He solely scans you with some sort of frown on his face. You can't deduce whether that is his neutral face, or if he's pissed at you. Nevertheless, you are kind of scared. "It's just— I don't mean to be rude. I just have to get up very early, and it was very loud, so... also, are you okay? It's— I heard a thud, I thought maybe someone fell?"

Once again, it grows quiet between the two of you. With every passing moment of silence, you are regretting your choice to knock. Did you really have to piss off your neighbors the first night you moved in? Couldn't have just battled through a broken night? You curse yourself as you wait for some sort of answer.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll shut it all down for you."

You let out a breath of relief, glad to see he is not taking it badly. You bite your lip, trying to fight your smile from getting too wide.

"Really? Thank you so much! I appreciate it, and I really didn't mean to offend you or anything. I promise, it's just because I have to get up so early and the coffee at my work is horrible so—" You stop yourself mid-sentence when you realize you are babbling your new neighbor's ear off. "Never mind. Good night, and nice to meet you. My name is Y/N, by the way."

The man doesn't say anything once again, so you take it as your cue to get the fuck back to bed before making it worse. You walk into your apartment, turning around to close the door, when you hear his voice.

"Harry."

Your head shoots up, tilting it ever so slightly at the sudden word spoken by your neighbor. He tilts his head, mocking you, as he repeats the name while pointing to himself. With that, he turns around and closes the door. You do the same, leaning against the door as you realize you have the hottest new neighbor ever.

Another, extremely loud thud sounds from his apartment, and your eyebrows knit together. A loud voice is heard, one that is clearly Harry's shouting 'sorry!'. You giggle, shaking your head at the comedic timing before waltzing back to your bed.

Little do you know, that while you fall back asleep in your comfortable bed, your new neighbor thinks about you through the entire night. Harry's mind is absent, even as they drag the body of the guy that didn't pay up in time out of his apartment, even as he scrubs the blood off his hands and face.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll shut it all down for you."

He had been purely sarcastic, baffled by the fact that you even had the guts to knock on his door. The first time you knocked, he thought it was just noise from outside or something. No one was stupid enough to knock on Harry Styles' door. No one was dumb enough to risk it.

But someone did knock; an insanely beautiful woman with nothing but an oversized shirt on. Well, shorts under it maybe, but for the sake of his imagination, you didn't. And you weren't stupid, you just didn't know whose door you were knocking on.

Anyone else who would have been foolish enough to do so, especially while he was dealing with a deadbeat who owed him more than enough money, would've met an entirely different fate.

The way you stumbled over your words and  let your eyes travel over his body had given him too much of an ego boost not to play with you a little bit. And once you had reacted so genuinely to his sarcastic response, he somehow didn't have it in his heart to tell you that he wasn't being serious.

Which is strange, because he didn't peg himself for someone with a heart, not anymore.

Nevertheless, he decided that you were right. The incessant noise had gone on long enough. And so, right after he closed the door, Harry turned around aimed his silencer right at the deadbeat's head. Following the thud of his body falling down, he had shouted a 'sorry' for the last noise he would make that night.

Now, as he lays in bed, the reason for his sleeplessness isn't the weight of another death on his shoulders. No, it's his new neighbor and her long, bare legs.

************************************************

ONE DAY LATER

Your shoulders are hurting.

After yesterday's moving activities and today's excruciatingly long day at work, you are exhausted. Not only did you have to do an insane amount of paperwork today, you also got assigned to even more administrative work that shouldn't even be yours to deal with in the first place.

When you had mentioned you wanted to gain experience in the field of law during your interview for receptionist at a law firm, you hadn't expected them to throw all the work in your lap. You were doing a lot of things, spending way too many after hours in the office, doing jobs that were never in your job description, and instead labeled as 'ways to gain experience'. The worst thing is, your boss is acting like these tasks are a huge favor to you, but you know it's just the jobs that they are too lazy to do themselves.

Nonetheless, you don't say anything about it. Despite the cruelness and sometimes uselessness of the assignments you are given, you do have access to active cases that lawyers are working on, and it gives you an opportunity to observe their styles and its effectiveness.

Wanting to become a lawyer is something you had always dreamed of. You loved justice, and you weren't afraid to fight for it. In your day to day life, you are very sweet, bubbly, and in some cases—like yesterday—even shy. But once you are in a professional setting, you can switch and stand strong. The division between your personal and professional self is one you have learned to balance very well, and you also use it as a secret weapon. People are way too quick to underestimate you, and you always make sure it comes back to bite them in the ass.

You put your groceries and briefcase on the ground, allowing yourself to look for your keys, which you forgot to take out of your bag and are now buried somewhere at the bottom. Head deep into your purse, you don't notice Harry walking out of his apartment until his door shuts. It is right after you've found your keys, so with them in hand you turn around to greet him with a smile.

Your new neighbor looks gorgeous, which doesn't bode well for you because you are currently feeling like an expired, mushy sack of potatoes. You shiver at the thought.

"Hey!" You say instead.

"Hello sweetheart." His smooth, English accent hits your ears just right. "Sleep well last night?"

Your cheeks turn pink, and you nod. "Yes, thank you for asking. Oh! Speaking of..."

You turn around and bend down to dig through your grocery bag. When your eyes meet Harry's again, you are reaching out a bouquet of flowers. He stares at it, wary of your intentions.

"They're for you." You feel the need to clarify.

"Aw, sweetheart, you didn't have to go through the hassle of buying me flowers. I'm quite an easy man you know, all you have to do is ask." He says, grin wide as he observes the way your eyes nearly pop out of your sockets at the suggestion of him and you. He likes seeing you all flustered.

"W-what, no! I— it was for yesterday! Because you were so nice to me. I wanted to make up for meeting in such an unfortunate way. Didn't want you to think you have a shitty neighbor now or something." You explain, watching Harry's amusement at your awkwardness.

"I'd never think that, sweetheart." His voice is low, and despite saying it in a bit of a joking way, you swallow at the sound of the sentence. The raspiness of it just gets to you. You brush your nerves off with a weak smile, and turn to open your door.

"Well, have a good night." You say, awkwardly waving at Harry as you carry your bags into your apartment. You place them in your hallway before walking back to close the door. Harry waves back with the flowers, winking at you.

"Good night, sweetheart."

Your heart races at the continuous nickname. It sounds so sexy coming out of his mouth, and it is the only thing you can think of as you cook your dinner. It is even hard to concentrate while watching your favorite show.

A few hours go by, and the sound of Harry's voice doesn't fade from your mind. Neither does the excruciating pain in your shoulders. At around nine p.m. you give up and decide to grab some painkillers. However, to your great horror, you find out that you ran out and forgot to buy new ones.

Cursing yourself, you rush over to your coatrack and grab your jacket. Along with your purse, containing important things such as money, your keys, and pepper spray, you leave your apartment to pop into the convenience store nearby.

It's only a five minute walk, but with your speed you cut a minute from that estimate. It takes a little bit to find the paracetamol, but after grabbing two boxes of pills, you rush to the cash register. You wait until the man in front of you has paid, smiling politely when he turns around to walk out of the store, and step forward to pay for your painkillers.

Despite the cashier's monotone voice, you are more than satisfied with this convenience store, and you walk out smiling at the knowledge of being rid of your pain very soon.

You flinch at the sight of the man from before standing right outside, grinning at you as you walk by. Despite his middle aged appearance, his teeth are rather yellow. You avoid making further eye contact, tension growing in your stomach. As you walk back to your apartment, you make sure to keep your pace quick.

You're too scared to look behind you, but you feel it. You feel that this man is walking a few meters behind you and you also feel like you might throw up. But you keep walking, keys in one hand, pepper spray in the other.

You are ready to open the door that leads you to the hallway of your apartment complex, and immediately push the key into the hole once you get there. But for some stupid fucking reason, the door won't budge. Your heartbeat rises and your hands are getting clammy as you shimmy your keys, trying to open that goddamn door. As your eyes begin to water, you hear a voice behind you.

"Need some help, pumpkin?"

Frantically, your gaze searches for a way to get out of here. It falls into the intercom, but you can't seem to find some sort of emergency button. Since you can't buzz yourself in, that option seems to be useless.

Then, an idea enters your mind.

You take a deep breath, hoping it'll steady your voice before you respond. "No thank you."

The man chuckles. "I think you do. 'S okay, I like a damsel in distress."

Pulling the key out of the hole and wrapping your hand around it, you turn around to the man. You swallow your pride and try to be as nice as you can be when rejecting someone. Stepping back a bit, you almost lean against the wall as you blindly press one of the buttons behind you. Luckily, the noise of ringing a bell isn't very loud from downstairs, so you don't think the man notices your sneaky action.

"I am fine, good night." You say, your smile gone now. You can't find it in yourself to be nice and sweet after that creepy comment. Technically, you are very helpless right now. Because of him, and his actions that fill you with fear. The threat of his presence is what makes you that 'damsel in distress' in the first place, and you hate the fact that men idolize saving you when often they are the danger itself.

"I don't think you are. Why don't you come with me, get a drink together?" His tone is dominated by the insincerity that drips from his words. You know it isn't a question, it's a command. The salacious smirk he wears with it is disgusting, and the way his eyes shamelessly scan you makes you want to shower five times just to feel less gross.

You feel the slight pain in your thumb for pressing so much and hard into the button behind you, but you can't help but pray that your idea will work.

"No, please leave me alone." You try to be as stern as you can, although your shaky voice isn't conveying that message very well.

"I don't think you understood what I said, pumpkin. You and me are gonna get a drink together." He reaches forward and grabs you by your arm, pulling you towards him. You try to shake him off of you, but his grip only tightens. You choke out a cry, still trying to get his grimy hands off of you while he only buries his fingernails further into your skin.

"Let me go!" You scream as loud as you can, hoping that there is someone who will at least hear you. Your free hand reaches into your purse, and you pull out your pepper spray. In a split second, you are holding it up and spray it in the man's eyes.

He shrieks in shock, and lets go of you, covering his eyes with his hands. You quickly turn around to run back inside, but crash into a body on your way there.

Holding your waist, Harry keeps you from falling over. He frowns, his jaw clenching when he catches your terror filled, red eyes.

"Go inside." He orders. While the context is stern, the words spoken come out way softer than one would think when demanding something from someone. You don't have to be told twice, rushing through the open door and running up the countless flights of stairs. You are completely out of breath when you reach your floor, but you don't stop hurrying until you are in the safety of your own apartment.

You tear all your clothes off your body, feeling like you might choke because everything you have on feels to tight to your skin. You keep crying as you jump into the shower to wash yourself off, as you take off your make-up, and as you put a tank top and loose sweatpants on your freshly washed body.

You take your head out of the bun it was in to keep it dry as you walk towards your front door upon hearing a knock. When you open it, you're standing face-to-face with your neighbor.

"Are you okay?" Harry asks, eyebrows knotted as he looks at you. You nod, not wanting to say a word because you don't want to make him uncomfortable by becoming a blubbering mess in front of him. "Can I come in?"

You nod again, opening the door further so he can enter your place. His steps are careful and light, and you see his eyes scan the apartment as he walks in. You shut the door behind him, making Harry turn around to look at you.

He is back at your side as soon as he spots the marks on your arm that the creepy man left when he tried to take you to god knows where. With a tight jaw, Harry glances up at you.

"You need to put ice on that. It's gonna bruise."

You look down, too timid to meet his gaze, and notice Harry's red knuckles. It doesn't take you very long to put two and two together. For some reason, you don't want to directly mention that just yet, so instead you whisper:

"You too."

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle and nods his head, watching you as you walk over to your freezer to get some ice. Putting it in two different dish cloths, you hand one to him before walking over to your couch. Harry follows suit, plopping next to you and putting the cloth meant for him on your arm.

Flushed from that action, you slowly grab his hand and place it flat on your thigh. Ignoring the way it makes the rest of your body feel, you press the ice filled cloth against his knuckles, hoping the cold will give him some relief. He winces, his fingers tightening around your thigh ever so slightly before immediately relaxing again.

Your eyes travel to your own arm, initially to see Harry's hand wrapped around it. However, the sight of the red marks on your arm make your eyes water again, the memory from what just happened resurfacing. The sickening fear of not knowing how the fuck to get out of that situation is as overwhelming as it was just before, even though you are safe now. You hate that a man made you feel so weak.

You can't help the tears from flowing, so you just let them as you silently recall the events of tonight. Your thoughts are cut in on when Harry removes his bruised hand from your thigh and cups it around your jaw. He leans forward, green eyes all sympathetic.

"It's okay, you're okay. He won't hurt you anymore, or ever again." He whispers. You shut your eyes, your silent tears now breaking into soft sobs. There is no choice but to let the sadness flow, and relish in the comfort of Harry's fingers wiping away your tears as you cry out the stress you had been feeling, and give it a place.

You feel it getting lighter with every cry. Each tear that Harry catches is a bit of weight off your shoulders. For some reason he chooses to sit there and offer you a space to store your pain. And even though normally you would never allow yourself, tonight you make use of that space.

*****************************************

A few weeks had gone by, and Harry had taken it upon himself to become your new watch dog. After what happened, he refused to let you go outside by yourself.

The morning after the incident, you got up and went to work like normal. But when you opened your apartment door, you ran into Harry, who had also been planning on going outside. He walked you to your car, and watched as you drove away. That night, when you returned from work, you ran into him again in the hallway downstairs, and walked to your apartments together.

After about three nights of these exact same situations, you could confirm for yourself that Harry was waiting to escort you anywhere.

You thought confronting him about your knowledge of his schemes would put an end to the overprotectiveness, but you were proven wrong. Instead of toning down his behavior, he amped it up. There wasn't a trip to the supermarket that you made by yourself anymore. And anytime you tried to say something about his following you everywhere, he would make up a silly excuse that left you speechless with flushed cheeks and a stupid grin on your face. You gave up fighting it not long after that, mainly because you enjoy his company so much.

Being so close to Harry all the time did make you realize how much distance everyone else kept from him. You didn't miss how people avoided his gaze, or how certain cashiers stumbled over their words as you paid for your groceries. It had you wondering; just how scary was Harry?

Harry had really taken it upon himself to protect you. It kind of went automatically, if he had to be honest. He simply couldn't watch you walk around the neighborhood so defenseless. What happened to you had enraged him so much, he didn't want a repetition of it.

Of course, an exact repetition was not an option anymore since he had beaten up the guy who assaulted you to the point where he was hospitalized. Harry couldn't find it in himself to feel even the slightest of remorse. Well, maybe only for the fact that he didn't kill him right then and there. He would have, had he not been too worried about you being alone upstairs.

Soon enough, word had traveled about your association with Harry, and it resulted into people being afraid of you. You were so incredibly confused about the shaky voices of people you'd ask for help in stores. You had never imagined yourself to have such an intimidating aura.

Since Harry had taken it upon himself to watch you, you had taken it upon yourself to feed him. It was the least you could do, and it gave you a reason to keep him around longer at night.

Part of you was aware that wanting to get closer to Harry might not be the best idea, especially considering the collectively instilled fear that lingered everywhere he would go. But he was so sweet to you, and you were sure that there was an explanation.

So, tonight during dinner, you had decided you would ask him about it.

Harry was delighted when you asked him if he wanted to stay and eat, and didn't hesitate to say yes. Now as he leans against the counter, watching you cook the pasta you promised to prepare, you have to actively control your breathing. His intense stare has a way of turning your legs into jelly and fogging up your mind.

"How was your day?" You ask him as casually as you can. Harry doesn't tear his eyes off of you, grinning at the way he is making you squirm.

"Good, love."

You swallow at the new nickname he suddenly conjured up. The low baritone of his voice combined with his green eyes on yours has your heartbeat getting out of control. You hear the breathy chuckle leaving Harry's mouth, and it makes your stomach turn. He knows exactly what he is doing.

"So, uhm... I have a question." You say, focusing extra hard on stirring the boiling pasta. He hums, indirectly telling you to ask away. You turn down the pitch on which your pasta stands, and turn to face him. For the first second that you meet his eyes, you were forget what you were even going to ask him, but you quickly regain your senses.

"Why is everyone here so afraid of you?" You tilt your head, really observing Harry. Sure, he is tall, with a broad and muscled figure. He always wears dark clothes and his green eyes will never look away first. But to truly be terrified of this man? You couldn't imagine why.

Harry doesn't say anything. He pushes himself away from the counter and walks towards you, slowly towering over your smaller frame. He leans forward, his face closer to yours than it has ever been before, and it gives you ideas that you probably shouldn't have.

"Do I scare you?"

Silently, you shake your head. Harry's eyes slowly travel down your face, fixating on your mouth for the longest five seconds you have ever experienced, and then shoot back up to meet yours again. "Then why do you care so much about what others think?"

"I don't." You respond embarrassingly fast, overwhelmed with a need to get his approval.

"Well, there you have your answer."

With that, he turns around to the counter and grabs the glass of white wine you poured for him. Taking it between his hands as if it were a cocktail glass, you watch entranced as he takes a sip. Your gaze falls onto his hands. You feel sinful for the thoughts that occupy your mind, but they fly out the window when you spot how bruised his knuckles are. And you realize...

"No, I don't." You say sternly. Harry looks at you, amused by your protest. "I don't know anything about you, Harry."

Harry laughs, but it’s a bitter laugh, accompanied by his hand running through his hair and his head shaking as if he can’t believe what he is dealing with. A part of you wants to get on your knees and beg him to forgive you for being suspicious of who he truly is, but you refrain from doing it.

“People fear what they don’t know, Y/N.” He says, his eyes finding yours. Your heart starts beating faster, aware of the fact that his eyes are going to keep being trained on yours without even so much as faltering.

“I don’t give a fuck about what those people think of me, they don’t know me. You do. So why is their judgment relevant? I’m here, aren’t I? Standing in front of you, letting you know me. Is that not enough?”

You feel a pang of guilt in your stomach at his words, and the authenticity of them. You let out a sigh, breaking eye contact to look down at the floor, contemplating what he’s saying. Maybe he is right.

“Sorry.” You say so softly it could almost be classified as a whisper. The feeling of Harry’s fingers pushing your chin up makes your eyes meet his, and you notice the hint of a smile he wears.

“Go sit.”

Slightly confused, you follow his order, looking back at him to see him finishing up the pasta and making a bowl for the both of you.

“I’m 29.” He states, his back still to you. Your mouth breaks into a smile, and you prop your elbow on the couch, leaning your chin into the palm of your hand as you observe him.

“Really?” You are grinning like a proper idiot now. Harry nods.

“I don’t have any siblings, but we did have a dog, and we rescued a stray kitten that was sleeping in our garden.” He goes on, turning around and walking over to the couch with the bowls of pasta. He sits down and hands you one.

“What are their names?” You ask.

“Dog is called Pepper. Mum let me name the cat, so I named her Hades.” He explains, making you a giggle.

“You named your girl cat Hades?”

“Persephone is such a mouthful. Plus, I was like ten, and had this big obsession with Hades.” He shrugs, taking a bite of the pasta. Your eyes widen, and you begin to laugh even harder.

“You mean to tell me that little ten year old Harry was obsessed with the Greek God of the underworld, the God of death… Are you okay?”

Harry shrugs. “He’s just doing his job.”

You cover your face with your hands, beyond amused by his nonchalance. You don’t see it, but Harry might take more joy out of the situation than you. His eyes sparkle with adoration as he watches you laugh, and he wishes he knew how to control time just to stay in this moment forever. There is something so extraordinary about your happiness being caused by him. He is fascinated with how much he wishes he could do it every day for the rest of his life.

He didn’t know whether opening up about himself was the smartest ideas, but he would give you his social security number if it made you laugh like that.

You take your hands off your face and look at him, the sudden urge to kiss him being almost unbearable. Almost. You sigh, not knowing how to express these feelings you have towards him, so instead you opt for a simple comment.

“I’m so glad you’re my neighbor.”

Harry smirks. “I’m glad you’re my neighbor too.”

[ramonathinks]

just a tiny reposted drabble lol

kento nanami is your dad’s boss … you meet him at a important dinner once that your dad forces you to come along to and he always holds a dark look in his eyes whenever he talk to you, he talks to you about the company, briefly says how pretty you are before he sips on his drink and licks his lips, you try to avoid him but for some reason he keeps trying to talk to you even though it’s clear you can’t hold a conversation with this man. so when your dad sprains his back and needs you to fill in for him, for a month max, he swears, you do it, never really realizing how much time the two spend with each other. you know little to nothing about the position or even what is it that these men do.

all you know is that you’re the only girl there… wearing a tight knee length skirt wasn’t the brightest of plans but it was hot outside and you just came to get some papers, sign them and fax a few of them. you’d be gone in less than two hours. you weren’t expecting Nanami to come into your dad’s office with yet another stack of papers, grumbling how important they were, about how he needed this done by the end of the day.

“did you work my dad like this? no wonder he sprained his back! i know he has desk work and has to go into the field with you and i don’t appreciate this!” you give him a piece of your mind and you know you shouldn’t, he’s your boss… at least for now, but more importantly he’s your dad’s boss, he could lose his job. but your mouth was moving faster than your brain. you can’t believe how selfish this man is.

“you never worked a day in your life huh?” he rolls his eyes. “i can tell that a cute little thing like yourself never so much a lifted your finger, you think he sprained his back because of me? what about that new bedroom set you pleaded with him to build you?” and that stops you dead in your tracks as you narrow your eyes at the man.

suddenly more annoyed than you ever been. “listen here! you don’t know me. you don’t know what i do! my daddy’s not expendable, this job is his life.” your eyes feel moist and your lips are quivering, he cups your face.

and you don’t know exactly how it happens but then…

he’s sinking in deep inside of you and he’s finally just like “well maybe i should give your dad a raise—fuck, maybe a bonus too…” you’re squeezing him so tight and he says: “he is a good worker, the fucking best. fuck… you’re so—fuck. you’re so damn tight…! pretty little thing like you milking my cock like you own it.”

“if i offered you a position,” his hips moving quick as he ruts deeper inside of you. “a permanent position…would you take it? work for me. Daddy’s not getting any younger babydoll. I’ll make sure he works one last good year and then you can return his favor. Just keep sucking me in just like that and I’ll just pay him all out, right now.”

[stellamarielu]

sweetheart

declan o'hara x female reader

summary: working late with your boss (who you have a massively embarrassing crush on) was a normal occurrence for you. not a normal occurrence? him finding your favorite smutty romance novel and asking too many questions about it.

content: mutual pining, nsfw themes, age gap i guess, not actual smut but there are implications, teasing, some dirty talk (bc let's be real it's "how would you have liked him to touch you" declan)

author's note: so this is the first writing i've posted on here because this man and his hairy chest have me in a chokehold. the internet deserves more rivals fics!

—

It was the third Thursday in a row you found yourself still at work after everyone else had gone home. You were sat across from your boss, the only thing separating you was an office desk. The piece of furniture was obnoxiously oversized, but you were thanking the universe for it because if Declan was sat even an inch closer, he would probably be able to hear your heart pounding. You had such a ridiculous crush on him. You knew it was inappropriate, but you couldn’t seem to care less. So here you were working overtime just to sit and gawk at him. Pathetic.

Sometimes you swore there was some sort of tension between the two of you. The accidental stares that lingered a little too long. The careful touch of his hand on your lower back when he passed behind you. Sure, you were probably reading too far into it, but in the back of your mind you hoped that he saw you as more than a young naïve coworker. 

Your delusions were further fueled by Declan’s constant invitations to join him in his office on Thursday nights. You couldn’t help but wonder if he knew that you would stay late every single night if he asked you to. 

But of course, he knew. 

He knew you thought he was attractive. He knew that his presence made you nervous. He knew that you had an embarrassing schoolgirl crush on him, and he liked it. 

Not only did he like the idea of you wanting him, but Declan reciprocated it. He spent most days with his gaze trained on the work laid out in front of him to avoid eye contact with you. He knew the second your eyes met he wouldn’t be able to control the small smile that tugged at his lips. He would never admit it, but he lived for making you giggle. The sound of your laugh was irresistible. He would crack little jokes throughout the day just to hear it.

Your voice alone was like music to his ears- christ, even the way you said his name drove him insane. He could feel warmth spreading through his chest just thinking about it.

The thoughts he had about you were unbecoming. Thoughts a boss shouldn’t have about their employee let alone an employee that was almost half their age. 

So, he tried his best to suppress his feelings and treat you as he would any other coworker. But it sure as hell didn’t help when you were always so quick to stay late and help him with his work. Granted he knew by asking you to assist him after hours he was just digging himself deeper into this newfound obsession. But he couldn’t help it, he longed to be in your presence even if it was just an extra hour or two once a week. 

These nights were mostly filled with silence but the occasional banter about office drama or a Keats work that you both admired was enough to have him wrapped around your finger day after day.

“What was that article you were tellin’ me about?” His question breaks the silence that had been occupying the room for the last fifteen minutes. 

You look up from your busy work only to be met with his kind eyes. For a man that had no problem showing his angry side, you felt lucky that you so often got to experience a version of Declan that was calm and light-hearted. You sometimes thought he had a sweet spot for you, although you came to terms with it probably being because you reminded him of his daughter who was just a few years younger than you.  

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that. Hold on I think I have it in here.” You began the search for an article you had mentioned to him that morning. It was an old gossip piece that you thought would be good for him to use on the show tomorrow night. 

You began taking things out of your bag one by one trying your best to find the paper in your giant unorganized tote. Notepads, books, a handful of pens, and your favorite lipstick that you thought you lost months ago are now strewn across Declan’s desk as you continue digging through your belongings. 

A small chuckle escapes Declan making you stop your search for a split second. Your head snaps up expecting to see him looking at you in irritation for creating such a mess, instead you notice his attention on one of the books you had taken out of your bag. Looking down you realize your copy of Lizzie Vereker’s novel was sat on his desk. A novel that was well known for its extremely erotic contents… and your copy was so worn the spine was barely intact. 

Before you could try to say something to make the situation less mortifying Declan spoke, 

“I see you’ve read Lizzie’s book then.” 

There was no questioning his amusement. He seemed to be enjoying how awkward this was for you. 

“That Lizzie is a quirky gal, but a truly great author.” He finished and picked up the book thumbing through the pages. 

“She gave me a copy after the garden party last month. When she mentioned to me that she was a writer, this-” you said motioning to the book, “wasn’t exactly what I had in mind”

You giggled as you spoke and the second the sound left your lips Declan’s eyes met yours. There was something about his stare now that you couldn’t place. 

“So I take it you’ve read it then?” You asked him, needing to say something to keep yourself from full on passing out in embarrassment. You wish you had asked something else because you desperately needed to change the subject from the smutty pages Declan held in his hands. 

“My-“ He paused, “Maud read it years ago. I remember readin’ a bit of it myself. Absolute filth.” 

He was looking back down at the book while his hands found the worn spine, a smirk plastered on his face. 

Okay, so now he knew you were so miserably horny that you not only read the book, but you enjoyed it so much that you must’ve re-read it multiple times- hence the condition of the novel. 

“You certainly seem to be a fan of her work.”

With this comment your humiliation began turning into irritation. Was he trying to further embarrass you by implying that you’ve clearly enjoyed the book? Can a woman not read exceptionally horny literature in peace? Now you’re becoming annoyed by the whole conversation. Afterall, it’s really none of Declan’s business what you do in your free time.  

“Yeah, well I spend a lot of nights alone in my apartment Declan.” You deadpan. “I’ve found the dating pool in this town to be quite depressing and I’m 99% sure the men in that book are much better than anyone I would meet here anyway.” 

You haven’t been living here long, it’s been maybe three months since you got the job to be a production assistant on Declan’s show. You’ve been working so much that you haven’t had much time to scope out the town’s most eligible bachelors, but from what you’ve seen you’re not interested. Not to mention the inconveniently debilitating crush that you had on your boss keeping you from noticing anyone else at all. 

“Oh and why’s that?” He challenges. This time looking you straight in the eyes, a smirk still playing on his lips.

Alright, he wanted to keep this up so why not. Two could play at this game. 

“For starters, these men” You steal the book out of his hands, “are written by women. Meaning they have empathy, they’re emotionally expressive and socially aware. Seemingly simple character traits but you would be shocked by how many men I’ve met in the last few months who lack the basic complexity of a fictional character.”

His smirk has turned into a full-blown smile making your body feel warm. 

“Not to mention the men in this book are capable of making a woman cum not just once but multiple times in a row. Which seems to be an impossible task for every man I’ve been with.” You continue your rant. Declan’s eyes fixed on you.

“These guys are getting off on a woman’s pleasure” you tap your book, “truly enjoying making their partner feel good. Meanwhile in reality, most men don’t even care if you finish as long as they get theirs.”  The second the words leave your mouth you realize you’re talking about orgasms with your unbelievably handsome boss staring right at you and immediately feel the need to hide underneath the desk in front of you. 

You look at Declan and notice his expression has gone from playful to something more serious. His lips show no evidence of a smile, instead they’re now relaxed and somewhat parted. His deep brown eyes are slightly hooded, and you could’ve sworn you noticed his chest rising and falling at a rather quick pace. He waits a few moments before standing from his chair and slowly making his way to your side of the desk.

“Well sweetheart,” 

Your mouth gapes open at the words. He’s never called you that. But hearing the pet name fall from his lips in such a deep raspy tone sends shivers down your spine. 

“I’ll have you know the kind of men you’re talkin’ about from your book do indeed exist.”

No longer separated by the desk he now stood right next to you, close enough that you could smell his cologne and the cigarette smoke that lingered on his suede blazer. 

“Some men relish in their partner’s pleasure. They can’t get enough of the way their body reacts to their touch. The way they look so needy and desperate for release.” 

He stops for a brief second. His eyes slowly drop to your feet and take their sweet time coming back up to meet your eyes, steadily drinking in the sight of your body underneath him as you sit still in your chair.

“The pretty noises they make as they come undone.”

His Irish accent sounds heavier than normal, and his voice is hushed. Your body is frozen in place and the room suddenly feels ten degrees hotter. His words are stirring something thick and foggy in your head and you can’t think straight. You’re all too aware of how close you are to him. Your face a mere foot away from his crotch. You’re able to make out the intricately braided patterns in his belt and you try to stop yourself from letting your eyes sink lower to what’s beneath it. 

Declan watches your gaze fall, and his mind starts to race. Knowing any second now his attraction to you will be evident by the strain of his pants. He gently takes your chin in his fingertips and pulls your gaze upward so you’re looking up at him through your lashes. 

Fuck- that sight alone is enough to make him finish in his pants like a teenage boy.

You looking up at him with innocent eyes, your lips parted just inches away from his hips- he thinks he may die right there on the spot. The effect you have on him is intoxicating, clouding his thoughts and almost making him see stars. What he says next comes from a place of carnal desire surprising even him, 

“Unbelievable that the men who’ve had the privilege of bein’ with you don’t even know how to fuck you properly. If I had you in my bed I would take my sweet time makin’ you cum over and over again until you’re beggin’ me to stop.”

As he speaks the hand that was resting underneath your chin gradually makes its way down, his fingertips now ghosting your jawline. 

“You deserve somebody who knows how to make you feel good sweetheart.”

There he goes with that nickname again. This time he says it and you can’t deny the warmth that pools between your thighs.  

Just as you open your mouth to respond, Declan’s phone starts to ring. Your eyes remain locked on one another as the incessant noise continues. You were beginning to think Declan would ignore the call so he could continue dirty talking you into a puddle, but he stood up straight from his position at the desk and began walking to the other side of the room. Answering the phone, he gazed back at you running a hand through his curls, nothing but lust in his eyes.

You sat up in your chair, blinking slowly and trying to gather your scattered thoughts. You weren’t sure what had just happened, but you did know one thing. 

The next time you found yourself that close to Declan O’hara’s belt you would be undoing it. 

find part 2 here

my masterlist

[sun-kissy]

hi baby!! for your christmas sleepover can i request the 🧸 with poly!marauders and prompt try to eat please!! thank you so much love bug!!

thank you for the request, my lilypad! hope you like your teddy bear, love you loads 🧸💛

muffin | poly!marauders

— “Try to eat.”

poly!marauders x reader

summary: you feel sick because you haven’t eaten in a bit. your boyfriends take perfect care of you.

tw: nausea, implied ed recovery, just a whole lot of hurt/comfort, our boys are angels fr <3

“Sweetheart,” Sirius coos worriedly as soon as he’s within sight, clearly tipsy as he stumbles towards you and Remus. James follows close behind, one hand on his boyfriend’s back and a pinch between his eyebrows.

You’re crouched on the cold floor of the bathroom, Remus right beside you with his hand on the small of your back. Everything looked like nothing but blurry dots, fading in and out of your vision. You can faintly make out the silhouette of one of your boyfriends flushing your sick down the toilet.

Mary and Lily were throwing a Christmas party at their new place. You and your boyfriends had been here for a couple of hours, Sirius going straight to the food table while James was immediately dragged away by a couple of old pals from the team back in school.

You could see Marlene beckoning to you across the room from the corner of your eye, but opted to stay next to Remus instead. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time with your friends, you really did miss them. You just felt really, really sick. It had started as a quiet upheaval in your stomach on the way here, but then started to feel like a full-on tornado. It was as though someone was slamming a hammer against your temple, the metallic taste of bile quickly rising up your throat.

You knew you probably looked worse than you felt. Your hair clinged to the sweat on your forehead, breaths coming out in small, painful huffs. Even your makeup felt smudged, mascara mixing with the perspiration and further adding to the irritation on your skin. It was obvious that Remus had noticed. He asked you if you were okay a couple of times, and you waved him off. His instincts told him to stay right next to you. He was glad he did, because less than a half hour later, you had your hands pressed tightly over your mouth as you gagged, wide-eyed and panicked.

Now you were sat pathetically on the marble tiles of the bathroom, tear-streaked cheeks and burning throat. Sensing your need for space, Remus had resorted to rubbing his thumb over the curve of your ankle while you leaned against the wall opposite. He had quickly texted James about the situation, who gathered up Sirius, in all his inebriated glory, before rushing into the bathroom.

You feel a hand wrapping around the nape of your neck, some things cold and metallic, though not unpleasant, digging into your skin. Sirius’ rings. The same sensation hits you someplace on your hips as you’re steered into another person’s arms. Your back falls snug onto a hard wall of a chest, gentle arms wrapping around your waist.

“Baby? Can you hear me?” James’ voice is soft near the shell of your ear, hands loving where they rub the fat of your stomach. You blink a couple times, vision still hazy but clear enough to pick up on your surroundings. The buzzing in your ears seemed to quieten at your boyfriend’s murmured words.

Your voice comes out as a quiet croak. “Yeah.”

Remus’ hand stills on your ankle, knowing you’d feel overstimulated by the sensation of two people touching your skin in different places. It’s no matter, though, because Sirius is quick to take your hands in his and squeeze them. He looks dangerously close to tears from where he’s kneeling in front of you.

“Are you okay? Do you feel better?”

You clear your throat, trying to muster a weak smile for his sake. “I –”

“What happened? Why did you feel sick? Did you –”

“Siri,” Remus is quick to take initiative, wrapping his arm around Sirius’ shoulder and gently pulling his boyfriend against him. “Relax. She’s okay,” he murmurs, unclear whether he’s trying to reassure Sirius or himself.

The long-haired boy frowns, but doesn’t say much else. Satisfied, Remus turns his attention back to you, eyebrows bunching up concernedly. “Do you feel better, lovely?”

You nod, and it’s a little more convincing than the smile you just tried to flash them. You feel yourself sinking more and more into James’ embrace, the feeling of his thumbs on your stomach distracting you from the searing pain in your gut.

James and Remus share a look. “Dove,” Remus starts softly. You meet his gaze curiously. He reaches out to wipe the tears off of your cheeks, palm settling on the dip of your chin. “You haven’t been eating enough.”

You sigh exasperatedly, opening your mouth to brush it off like you always do. But you’re cut off by James, tone slightly harsh though his touch remains gentle. “He’s right, angel. You’ve been skipping meals these past few weeks.”

“Yeah, and… and when you do eat,” Sirius pipes up, eyes narrowing like it’s taking him tons of effort to form a coherent sentence. It probably was, given the alcohol in his system. “You barely touch your food. You nibble on it, like… like um, a mouse.”

“Guys,” you speak up, feeling their eyes trained on you. Your breathing starts to pick up speed, and you try to ignore the anxiety slushing around in the pit of your stomach. “I’m fine, okay? I eat enough, and I didn’t puke because of that —“

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” James murmurs from behind you. You expect a telling off, maybe even a fight — but there’s nothing but sadness and worry in his voice.

You swallow, feeling your eyes start to sting again. “I’m not doing it on purpose, I swear. I’m trying,” your voice turns shaky as you lock eyes with Remus. He softens, moving forward slightly to take one of your hands in both of his. “We know you are, sweet girl. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah,” James adds quietly, dotting a kiss into your hair. “You were doing so well. You still are. Just let us help you, okay?”

You nod, and almost don’t notice Sirius clumsily pulling himself up and staggering out the bathroom. Remus frowns, turning around and calling out to him, only to receive silence in response. He sighs and turns back to you, continuing to thumb at your palm comfortingly.

The three of you sit in comfortable silence for a bit, the only sound being that of soft kisses as James presses his lips to different parts of your cheek. His hands move sideways from your stomach, coming to rest against the curve of your hips. He feels the empty space between your skin and jeans — jeans which fit you snugly just a month ago. He says nothing, but you feel the disappointment radiating off him and seeping into your skin.

That’s when Sirius bursts in through the door, causing all three of you to glance up startledly. He marches towards you with a hint of determination in his eyes, sitting back down in front of you. He takes one look at you, and everything hard about his expression melts into softness.

“Here,” he mumbles, holding a muffin out to you like a child would. “Try to eat.”

You don’t miss the hint of adoration in Remus’ gaze as he smiles at his boyfriend, then at you encouragingly. “Go on,” James says softly, hands resuming their movement on your stomach.

Letting out a shaky exhale, you reach forward and take the muffin with a quiet murmur of thanks. You swallow and stare at the muffin. It glares back with hostility.

Sirius starts to babble, like he always does when he doesn’t know what else to do. Only this time, he knew exactly what he was doing. He tells you about this weird girl at work who tried to flirt with him.

Between the animated storytelling, Remus’ soft smiles and James’ touches, you find yourself quietly biting into the muffin. You still didn’t feel like you deserved to eat. But you did feel safe. And you wanted to try, for them.

You even let out a laugh when Sirius mentioned the girl’s disgust at finding out about you guys, making him grin. It takes a while, but you finish the muffin. Your boyfriends tell you just how proud they are. You believe them.

san’s christmas sleepover

[ennabear]

how do you think mean!abby would react to reader being overstimulated? out in public or at home?

when you’re in public, i think she’d be more alert, more understanding. especially if you’re somewhere loud, hot, crowded, or just uncomfortable in general. she’d be quick to whisk you away from wherever’s overstimulating you, finding a private place, whether it be her car or an empty bathroom.

abby noticed you pouting after giving her short, one syllable answers for the past twenty minutes. obviously, you were in a bad mood. she stops dead in her tracks, causing you to bump into her from behind.

“are you okay?” she asks, although she knows the answer.

“yeah.” you mumble.

“are you lying to me?” she smiles.

“no.”

“tell me what’s wrong?”

“no.”

“i’m not mad, i swear.” she says calmly. “i just wanna know what’s wrong so i can help you.”

“what’s wrong is that i’m tired.” you start. “we’ve been here for like 4 hours, it’s a hundred degrees out, i’m sweating so much my shirt is sticking to my body, my feet hurt, i’m hungry, and i wanted to leave 3 hours ago.” you gush.

abby chuckles, she knows she’s right. you scoff at her, apparently she thinks your discomfort is hilarious. she ignores your complaints and instead wraps you up in a hug, rubbing up and down your back. “do you wanna leave?” she asks.

“yes!” you practically shout. “i’ve wanted to leave. for hours.”

swiping away the tears that escape from your eyes, she picks you up in a bridal carry and hauls you all the way back to the car. you can’t help but giggle, suddenly so grateful for your girlfriend’s giant muscles.

soon enough she’s setting you in the car, the hot black leather stinging your skin. she climbs in the drivers seat, starting up the car and flicking the air conditioner to the coolest setting. you sigh, the change of scenery starting to calm your nerves. abby reaches over to grab your hand and places a kiss to each of your fingertips, punctuating the last one with a whispered “i love you.”

as for being at home, i think she’d be a little less put together. her home is her safe space, so why are you so worked up? she’d still take care of you, obviously, but it would take a little longer for her to figure out exactly what’s wrong.

abby hears your muffled sobs coming from the kitchen, so she rises from the couch and practically flies over to you, terrified that you chopped one of your fingers off or something. instead she finds you sitting on the floor, holding your head in your hands. you gaze up at her sudden appearance, your dripping eyes making her figure look blurry.

“what’s wrong?” she asks, panicked. “are you hurt? did you burn yourself?”

“abby.” you groan through your tears.

the panic in her chest rises, she searches around you for any smears of blood or any massive spills in the kitchen, but finds nothing. “answer me.” she demands, prying your head out of your elbows. “what’s wrong?” she asks again.

you swat her away, squirming against her hold on your head. she pulls you close to her, her body temperature making you overheat more than you already are and the position adding to the ache in your back.

“abby. leave me alone.” you cry. doesn’t she know that she’s making it worse? the last thing you want is to have a conversation right now, the pounding headache almost making it impossible for you to speak. “i don’t wanna talk, please.” you moan, sniffling into your sleeves. “just put me back down.”

“tell me what happened first.” she demands, smirking like something’s funny.

you choke on a sob, damn her for being such an asshole. “i have a splitting headache, i’ve been standing up all day and it’s hurting my back, i’m overheating and standing in front of the oven isn’t helping, and i got sugar all over the place and now everything’s sticky.”

oh. well shit, now she feels bad for manhandling you and laughing at your dismay. but she doesn’t say anything back, instead scooping you up and carrying you to bed. “there are still cookies in the oven.” you complain, and she kisses you sweetly. “i’ll get ‘em.” she assures you.

and once she pulls the last tray out of the oven, she wipes down the kitchen and rinses out all of the bowls and measuring cups before grabbing you a glass of water and heading toward the bedroom. the sight of you sleeping soundly with both kittens curled around you makes her knees weak, and she can’t help but plant a few more kisses on your cheeks and whisper “i love you, i’m sorry for being a jerk.”

[sturniolosass]

Quiet. - Matt Sturniolo

Summary: You and Matt are bored of the movie you’re watching and a few things go down… including the bed frame being broken

-based on this post i made a few days back..

Warnings: smut, swearing, choking, biting, Dom!Matt, Sub!reader…etc.

You and Matt had been together for a while now, around seven months to be exact.

Tonight Matt had decided to invite you over something you’re always down for. But as of now you we being somewhat ignored while he played a couple games of fortnite with his friends.. Chris included, Unfortunately I couldn’t help but become more and more bored by the second… wishing he’d get off the game and give me more attention.. Something I felt too bad to admit considering he’s always getting off the game when I’m around… Eventually (after 2 hours) I got fed up with just sitting around in the background so I decide to grab a extra chair from the Dinning area and sit next to him

Upon sitting the chair down Matt looks up at me and smiles.. only a quick glance so he could assess my facial movement hoping I wasn’t as mad as I seemed.. I just look at the screen..

After around 5 minutes i start to focus on the way his hands are moving.. super fast.. over the keys he pressed so delicately, it turned me on, fast.. “shut the fuck up pussy” Matt shouts at a player he killed.. I could slowly feel my pink underwear get soaked, an extra large T shirt Matt had given me keeping me from staining the chair..I slowly run my hands down to my underwear to check if i’ve made a mess on the chair, hoping Matt doesn’t catch me when my hands between my legs.. I remove my hand quickly after realizing I’ve made a nice sized puddle on the seat running to my bag I grab a clean pair of underwear and rush out to the bathroom.. Not even thinking of the puddle on the chair..

I return from the bathroom and am immediately greeted with darkness.. I was confused for a second until i hear Matt, “come over here” he speak from his bed in the darkness.. “Did you get off the game? why is it dark.” i ask still confused.. “just come here” he spouts. I climb in the bed with my two knees, immediately sweep off them and laid flat on the mattress.. Matt above me with my wrists pined down with his hands.. “you made a huge mess on my chair..” He spoke leaning down directly in my ear.. “ how am i supposed to clean that” he added

“i didn’t mean to..” i spoke… “he turns his head.. “hmm what was it? what got you all worked up” he asks one hand trailing down my stomach to reach for my pussy… “i-it was.. you playing the game.. well—your fingers specifically.. they really made me hot..” i reply lightheaded.. “is that so? what about them?” he asked pushing his hands in my underwear slowly “was it? my hand on the mouse or the keys? or was it how fast you correlated it to me holding you down and rubbing your pussy” he questioned hand reaching my hole, eventually diving in with two fingers.. I couldn’t reply, too stunned to speak as he pushed his fingers further lathering them up in my juices, he pulls his hand out sucking both fingers.. pulling my underwear down from underneath me..

Kissing down my stomach as he yanked them down.. arriving at my area placing a soft kiss almost as a sign of respect due to the fact that he’s about to devour the poor thing.. Face immediately digging in causing me to spur a few profanities “oh fu-shit- Matt” i moaned, as his tongue run up and down on my clit, sucking and slobbering all over it.. “please Matt” i beg, worried I’d make a even bigger mess than before on the chair.. He just continues to eat me out, licking in somewhat of a figure eight formation.. moaning in between every one of my moans..

Coming closer to my climax i can’t help but grab his head pushing him deeper in my ocean, tongue diving deeper than the titanic, as i begin to orgasm i start to cream, him sliding two fingers in and out of me as his tongue does the two step on my flit sends me into over drive.. In less than two minutes I’m finishing, him still pumping two fingers in and out as he smiles up at me, gorgeous blue eyes staring in my soul

Rising over me and pulling my legs down he looks me in my eyes causing me to get more wet by the minute. He leans down closer to my neck kissing down to my collar bones, “Matthew please just fuck me” I beg not being able to take his soft lips kissing all over me.. wanting for him to just be inside me already.. “i’m going as fast as i can love..be patient.” he speaks finally making it to my nipple, sucking it him between his teeth immediately, rolling his tongue around it like a lollipop, he then grabs my waist pulling himself down closer to me.. his warm body hovering over me.. he releases my nipple “are you ready love?” he asks staring up at me from my boobs “yes matt please! i-I need you!” i beg in to which he pulls his pants down his ankles and off his legs.. He positions himself to my hole, mesmerized by the juices flowing out. “ok” he smiles and slides in for the first thrust, his hands gripping his headboard above me, “aghh-Ma-you’re so big oh my-“ i moan feeling every inch of him enter me.. being shadowed by his arm hanging from the bedpost.

He continues to thrust deeper and deeper in me, brushing that spot each time “oh f-fu-Matt” i stammer. “look at me?” he tells “huh” i react unable to keep my eyes open.. “look at me, i wanna see you cum, i wanna be the last time you think of when you climax” he asks thrusting in and out in such a quick pace.. eventually i hear a crack.. unbothered by it he continues to stroke deep gripping the bed frame tighter and tighter with each thrust, becoming deeper and deeper with each stroke..

“FUCK” he moans almost as a shout.. “ouu- matthew..fuck me..goodness” a few moans utter from my breathless mouth.. I can feel myself arching my back as i let my orgasm take over me. “MATT-fuck” i scream in to which he grabs my face preventing me from screaming any louder.. I can feel him begin to increase his pace looking in my eyes “yeah, i know baby” he says “cum for me” he adds.. “just like that” he says as he pushes me to orgasm..

I watch his face contort as his thrust get violent, getting closer to his high. eyes closing as he lets out the breathiest moans “o-oh fu-ck, shi- god you feel like heaven” he breathes. eyes rolling back, and just then that’s when i hear the bed frame crack, both of us falling 20 inches to the floor, mattress and bed cot underneath us, matt still inside me. He hurriedly gets up “are you ok? are you ok?” he stammers worriedly hopping off the bed “i’m ok im just on the floor” i laugh from the angle im looking up at him.

He then helps me up and stands there thinking of a way to fix his bed, now on the floor.. He decides to remove his bed frame completely for the time being.. “Can you sit over at the desk?” he asks looking at me with a concerned look.. I just laugh and walk over and sit in his chair. He then lifts the bed up off the ground leaning it against the wall and then grabs each panel one by one taking them down to the garage..

I just decide to hop in the shower..

Once i’m out the shower i come back in the room for the second time to see Matt sitting on his bed, that is now on the floor completely made up with no bed frame.. “I didn’t know what else to do.. I can order a new one tomorrow” he states.. “haha ok, what are we gonna tell Chris and Nick” I laugh thinking of all they’d have to say… “I don’t know..Nothing for now” he chuckles.. I just hop into the bed.. “your TV is up wayyyy too high now” i laugh at his TV mounted to the wall. “stop- i’m gonna have a bed frame!!” he whines jokingly.

3 hours later…

You hear Chris and Nick in the hallway talking about a fortnite game they were playing which spikes Matt’s attention. He hops up and runs out the room..

Minutes later you hear Matt nearing the bedroom door talking to Chris.. They both enter the room in a rush to what i’m assuming is get to the fortnite launch.. “Yo what the fuck-what happened to your bed” Chris states, Nick walking in behind them.. he gives you a funny disgusted look walking out the room “You both are nasty- oh my god” he fake gags. Matt and I both look to eachother. Chris shaking his head in disapproval “i can’t believe that’s what i was hearing earlier” “I need to go” He adds walking out the room and down the steps to his. “NICK ITS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE” I yell.. “GIRL BYE” He shouts back from the steps leading to his room making his way up the stairs so they can all get on the game.

You and Matt just giggle with eachother before he puts his headset back on…

De End 🧌

A/N: aye i wrote this as fast as i could for yall,so you know… my bad if it isnt “perfect”, also idk if i should’ve had a tag list but.. idk lmk if yall wanna be on a tag list.. also btw message me yalll!! I BE BORED!!

[help-itrappedmyself]

Danny Punches a Clown Part 6

Masterpost

Danny, after many promises and assurances, lets Red Robin take him to the batcave. They travel by car, and as fancy as it was, Danny was almost scared to touch anything inside it. Red was a much better driver than his father though, so he just closed his eyes and focused on trying to keep his healing up.

The Batcave turned out to be an actual cave, underground, with actual bats in it. He was whisked to a medical area too quickly to see much of anything else besides some other vehicles and a giant computer set up. 

Someone was waiting in the medical space with a tray of tools and bandages ready next to the bed, Red introduced him as Agent A. They were quick to lie him down on a cot and set him up to a heart monitor and that had Red and the A frowning immediately.

“It’s a medical condition.” Danny blurted, and both pairs of eyes shot to him. “My heartrate is naturally very slow, temperature runs cold, pale skin, slow circulation so I can't have a lot of different medications." Not that any medications would really work, but better safe than sorry. Them not working would be suspicious, and Danny does not have the energy or focus for trying to keep straight any real explanations right now.  "It’s fine, I promise.”

Agent A nodded slowly. “Is there anything else we should know before we start treatment?”

“Just can't give me any medicines, I think that's the only relevant bit.”

“Alright, I will keep that in mind. Please lift your shirt so I can see the wound.”

Danny does, and they manage their expressions quite well on seeing it. Agent A goes immediately for creams and bandages.

“What burned you like that?” Red asked.

“Gun.” Danny was starting to slur. He did not want to sleep right now, with these people here.

“A gun? What kind of gun causes burns?”

“New blaster, parents made it special.”

“Your parents make guns?”

Danny shrugs, turning his head to look at Red instead of the far off ceiling of the cave. “My parents make lots of things. They're scientists, inventors." Danny waves his arm around vaguely. "The gun was new though, hadn’t been shot with that one before. The earlier versions were much less powerful.”

“Are you saying that your parents are the ones that shot you?” Red asked gently, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed. “It wasn’t just their gun that was used?”

Danny frowns. “Well yeah.”

Tim is very concerned at the tone he just used, like getting shot at by your parents was normal. “Do they shoot at you a lot?”

“Fair amount I suppose.” Red could see Danny thinking really hard about something. Dany’s head was really starting to hurt. His brain was fuzzy and he knew he should be concerned about something, but couldn’t figure out what. His parents shooting at him was nothing new, considering. “Like, they did it more than Vlad but I don’t see him as often, and they’ve done it longer than the GIW, but since the GIW has started they’ve been about equal I guess. I mean, sometimes all the defense systems in the house target me but that wasn’t technically intentional. Took forever for us to figure out how to get them to stop that.”

“Danny, when was the last time you slept?” Red asked gently.

Danny wasn’t sure if his blip earlier this morning counted. He didn’t think it lasted more than an hour, but the last time he slept before that was before his fight in Amity, escaping through the ghost zone and running around in this dimension.

“It’s been awhile.” Danny landed on. True enough for medical history he supposed.

“Right.” A finished the last of the bandages and tugged Danny’s shirt back down. “Well, why don’t you do that now, while we go and find you something to eat.”

“I’m too tired to fight food right now.”

Tim shared a look with Alfred before turning back to Danny. “Okay then. Maybe sleep first and then eat?”

“I will go start making something now that you’re all set up here Mister Danny.” Agent A states, walking past the medical curtains and shutting them behind him. Red pulled out a tablet and started tapping on it. He noticed Danny’s eyes on him after a moment.

“You going to sleep?”

“Strange place, strange people. Not sure that’s the best decision here.”

Red looked up from his tablet.

“You trusted me enough to come here. Trust me enough to sleep. I will make sure no one but me or A comes in before you’re ready.”

[reidmania]

I MISS YOU IM SORRY | spencer reid

good riddance x spencer reid one shot series masterlist!!

summary; Spencer calls after being broken up for a month.

warnings ; fem reader, hopeful/happy ending, angst, exes to lovers, mentions of arguments, breakups, miscommunication, avoidant reader, loving spencer, break up bc reader pushed him away bc of self doubt, pretty tame. i love this i think

an ; RAHH fic twoooooo ehehehe. risk is coming soon i just had to pump out the angst really quick ok bare w me!!

You said, "Forever, " in the end I fought it Please be honest, are we better for it? Thought you'd hate me, but instead you called And said, "I miss you", I caught it. You said, "Forever, " and I almost bought it I miss fightin' in your old apartment. Breakin' dishes when you're disappointed. I still love you, I promise. Nothin' happened in the way I wanted. Every corner of this house is haunted And I know you said that we're not talkin' But I miss you, I'm sorry

The call came as a shock. When you were holding onto the doors of your pantry, leaning back slightly as your eyes skimmed over the contents of it — Which was not a lot. You we’re thinking about that fact you needed to go grocery shopping.

How long could you avoid that?

It started right after you and Spencer broke up, where you refused to go because of the chance that you might see Spencer there. It was right between yours and his apartment so the chances weren’t completely low — and normally you and Spencer did the grocery shopping together.

It would normally consist of you dancing around the store picking up random things and Spencer watching you fondly as he pushed the cart. He would mutter something about what was healthiest and you would hum approvingly then grab the opposite of whatever he suggest because it ‘tasted better’ He would chuckle and press his lips to the top of your head.

You wanted to relive that so bad that the idea of being inside the shops without him seemed so wrong. It felt like doing something behind his back. Like watching an episode of the show you two were watching together without him. It just felt wrong.

So you decided you would go to a different shop, an hour drive away. Just to be safe, but who just had time for that?

Which was how your pantry had gotten near empty.

You still had the big bag of his coffee beans that he left here. The ones you weren’t a fan of buy it didn’t matter because Spencer would compromise and just buy both, or just yours. You had use all of yours and started using the ones he left here.

They left a bitter taste on your tongue and a sweet sensation down the back of your throat, they were strong and kept you awake for hours longer than your normal ones did — but weirdly enough; they felt like home.

The bag was brand-less, and you should’ve memorised what it was you were sure you knew. You just couldn’t remember.

How were you suppose to ask? Call him? Message him? Pop by his house and ask. You were sure if he got any soft of contact from you— about anything, you would be blocked in milliseconds. The feeling that thought provided made your stomach tighten more than you’d like to admit.

You almost stumbled over your own feet when you closed the pantry as your phone started to ring, you saw it light up with a contact but your mind paid little attention as you answered, not even actually looking at your phone, your attention elsewhere.

“Hello?” You muttered as you walked towards the coffee machine you and Spencer had decided to get as an anniversary present. To fuel both your coffee addictions. You shoulder held your phone against your ear as you grabbed the bag of coffee beans — Spencers coffee beans.

You heard a harsh breath on the other side of the phone, “Hey.” The voice. His voice. Tired and groggy as if he had just woken up but you knew him well enough to know he didn’t. You pulled your phone away from your ear as your mind clouded foggy. Your eyes danced over his contact for a moment. He was calling you — He called you. it sent familiar butterflies to your ribcage.

“Spencer?” You exhaled, despite already knowing it was him. You wondered if maybe this was some prank, if he was just calling because he needed something or maybe to call you and degrade you over every mistake you made in the ending of your relationship — you deserved that.

He had every right to hate you for how things ended, he had every right to hate you, period. You had assumed that was how he felt towards you. Hatred. You knew he loved you throughout your relationship, that wasn’t something you had to question but the idea of that still being the case after everything unfolded the way it did.. It didn’t even seem fathomable.

“Hi” He repeated. His voice was low and quiet, you didn’t know what that meant and it was driving you insane. Your feet pattered around the house suddenly feeling cold in the kitchen. Nothing but memories fogging your mind every corner you looked — that didn’t go away as you moved around the house. It was filled by him and it was consuming you whole. 

You let out a heavy breath. “Do you need something?” It didn’t come out how you wanted it to. It wasn’t harsh or anything but your voice weakened half way through your words making embarrassment creep up the back of your neck.

The other side of the phone was silent for a minute, making anxiety pool in your stomach. Your head tilted as you sat on the corner of the couch, wrapping yourself in the blanket on the couch — the one you used more often than you’d like to admit, since some night sleeping in the bed that was suppose to be shared with Spencer felt all too consuming, the way his scent lingered faintly over the sheets and his little nothings covered the window sill, his jacket still hung up in the closet.

“Spence are you okay?” The nickname fell from your lips before you could try to stop it. You heard a muffled sound on the other end of the phone making your stomach twist. Slight worry and confusion filled the wrinkles by your eyes as you squinted slightly.

“Ye- Im.. Im okay” He breathed out his voice heavy and filled with something you couldn’t place if you tried. You were sure it was an emotion you had felt since you felt a sick feeling of familiarity in your abdomen. “I just- Can we talk?” He asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your knees pulled to your chest. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?” You asked, in your mind there was a point to this conversation, there was something specific he needed to talk to you about or why else would he call. He wouldn’t, you thought.

“No-Not like that, i just- I just want to talk to you, about anything. Whatever you want I just—” There was a pause, his voice got quiet, almost a whisper, “I miss you.” The words that left his lips buried themselves deep inside your chest, building themselves a home there.

Your head span. He said it so quietly you were scared you might’ve missed it if he said it any quieter. But you didn’t, you caught it. A deep breath left your chest as your hand came to your forehead, your mind was so focused on the fact that, he missed you. He called because he missed you. You almost forgot to answer him. You figured if he said the comment so quietly, maybe he didn’t want a reply on it, so you continued on with the conversation as the words interfered with the rhythmic beating of your heart.

“What coffee beans to do you buy?” You settled on. You heard him chuckle on the other side of the phone before passing a comment asking ‘why? You hated them’ It made your heart flutter uncomfortablely. The two of you continued talking about coffee beans for ten minutes before he muttered about how he had to go, you knew it was probably work related. But god he sounded so sad saying it.

“Spencer?” You asked softly, your voice coming out quieter than what you expected. You heard his soft hum on the other side of the phone. You didn’t want to admit how much you missed him, how your entire being craved him every minute of everyday regardless of what you did — nothing in the world could fill the him-shaped- hole that took up the space of your gut.

“I’m sorry” You apologised and you hoped it was clear you were apologising for everything, for the arguments, for the breakup, for pushing him away for no real good reason beside your own self doubt. It was the sorry you were too proud to mutter out a month ago.

There was a moment on the other side of the phone where you were almost convinced he was going to hang up — you worried you brought up what he didn’t want to talk about.

But instead, “I miss you.” He said louder this time, as if he believed you didn’t hear it the first time. The words made your stomach clench tightly and your muscles both tighten and relax at the same time.

You sigh, you should have shut up. He had to go, you know that but the words came out honestly as “I still love you” You said. You wanted to slap yourself in the face, now you really weren’t gonna be surprised if he hung up and blocked you.

There was a heavy breath, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. “Well-“ He huffed, “If you still love me, and- I still love you..” He muttered out intentionally, hoping you caught on to what he was insinuating. Your mind however was captivated by the fact that, he still loved you.

“We should probably talk” He finished when you didn’t, “Please?” It was thrown in there both to use manners and to show how badly he wanted this. You weren’t ever gonna say no in the first place.

“We should. Do you need to go grocery shopping?” You asked, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you almost smiled. You could almost imagine his confusion.

“Um— I guess that depends —Do you?” He asked. You huffed out a small laugh, nodding your head absentmindedly as you realised he couldn’t see you. “Do you still go to-“

He cut you off, “No. No i started going to the one across town, about an hour away” He said, honestly. You head tilted slightly as you realised he started going to the one you were going to. The conversation continued as you both ignored — or forgot the fact he needed to go.

“Why?”

“So you didn’t feel uncomfortable if I was there when you were” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It made your stomach scrunch up and your chest to bruise your ribcage as the beating of your heart only increased.

“Let’s go grocery shopping, at our shop. Then um— you can come here and I can make you coffee?” You suggested slightly awkwardly, as you worried about the chance of rejection and the embarrassment you would feel.

“It’s a date.” He smiled, you could hear it in his voice.

“Okay.” You exhaled out.

[the-monstermash]

UNBROKEN BETROTHALS

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Synopsis: After running away from an unwanted proposal, you find yourself working in a brothel as a cook. When a certain guest takes an odd liking to you, secrets are revealed and betrothals unbroken

Warnings: Angst, Brothels, Mature, 18+, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language

Word Count: 2,187

> **A/N:** AHHHHHH this is my first character fic, and only the second one I've ever been brave enough to post! I also had to post this on mobile because my browser was being wild so sorry for any formatting issues!

The sound of senseless fucking had never seemed to bother you. Easy to filter out, truthfully, and not as traveling as one would think it to be. No, there are many things worse, like for instance the smell. One never takes into account the smell of sex, much less the smell of alcohol fueled, desperate, old haggard men driving the last of their life-force into some disinterested cunny eager to make a coin. Eager to spend a coin, as well.

That's where you came in. Whores work up quite an appetite, one you are all too happy to satisfy, no pun intended. You'd been with Sylvi for years, after you'd run from your family in the dead of night, afraid of the life they'd planned for you.

"Everybody must eat," Sylvi sighed the night she met you, disinterested. "If you will not fuck, you will feed. We earn our keep around these parts, you'll do well to learn quickly."

That was the start of a very standoffish, albeit maternal, relationship. Sylvi had never truly cared for your company, but she cared for you, and that was more than many could say, and more than you could say of any kin. She had taken you in, given you shelter among her girls, and had asked very little of you, knowing your past. She'd seen you into young womanhood, and taught you all you wished to know about life. She was not coddling, nor cruel. She was just what you needed, and it seemed many shared the sentiment.

You were in a daydream as you went about your nightly tasks. The brothel would be closing in a few hours, the girls would need food, and you had really set into it, working quick and messily, spinning and turning about in an attempt to do too many things at once.

Just as you'd turned from the broth and made way to the oven, a wall had manifested itself and blocked your passage. No, not really a wall. Moreso a tree, in it's slender and sharp way. The branches had reached out to hold you, wrapping around your waist and breaking you from your reverie. Suddenly before you was a bare chest, pale in color and smooth like silk. He was taught with muscle, cut like marble. The kind of statue kings pay fortunes for, just to place in their hallway and walk past every morning.

"Sir, no one is meant in the kitchens." You had spoken before you'd had the chance to understand what you were saying, turning from him and back towards your oven to retrieve the loaves. "You'll need to return back to the brothel, Sylvi will not have men in her kitchen."

"'Twas Sylvi that sent me. I've come for wine." The voice was quiet, but in a way that made the ears strain to hear him, instead of drown him out.

Wine? Why would he not stop at the many*tables he'd have to pass to get here?You'd thought. This man must have ill intentions.

Slowly grabbing your bread knife, you turned your head to the side to face the intruder.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

"My Prince! " The sound of metal rang through the room as you dropped the blade unto the table to turn fully towards him. "My sincerest apologies, my prince! Please forgive me, I had no idea!" You did your best curtsy, and prayed to the Seven that he wouldn't find me impertinent, and would be in a forgiving mood. What you'd just done could be viewed as treason, an attempt on the prince's life.

In the state he was in, which you had noticed, you surmised he just might be in a forgiving mood. He was nude from head to toe, his brow beaded from heat and, hopefully, exertion. The hook of his nose looked sharper as his purple eye followed it to look down at you. He was beautiful, almost overly so. It could only have been Prince Aemond, the eye patch gave him away, even though you'd never seen him before, you'd be a fool not to know the stories of the one-eyed prince. And you'd known him to be a rather fond client of Sylvi's, as she boasted often to the other girls at dinner.

His presence there in your safe haven was unnerving, and once again the sounds of debauchery were drowned out, but now it was as if he'd sucked the noise from the room. He was too tall for the room, it was not made for him. What would a kitchen made for a God even look like? The very notion to build such a thing seemed almost blasphemous to you. He was looking at you like you didn't even exist, almost through you. His stare was too deep for that of a stranger, but perhaps he had to look so intensely because his lack of an eye.

He finally cleared his throat, as if it would've pained him to repeat himself.

"The wine, yes. We are a humble establishment, so you will have to be forgiving with our selection. I'll have our best sent to you at once!" And with that, he let out a low hum and left you to your duties.

You'd quickly managed a carafe and two goblets, and sent it through with a boy, with strict instructions to deliver it to the prince. You'd have delivered it yourself, but as you did not know where he was, and did not have the time searching the brothel for him, you'd relented to send it through a lord's boy, and hope he was competent enough to manage it.

As the sounds died out from the front of the house, you'd began shuffling out with bowls of broth and loaves for the girl. They took it gratefully, each dropping two coins in your hands and sitting to eat, sharing small talk and whatever gossip they had learned from their clients.

"Ser Lannister had quite a bit to share tonight. He speaks of war. Do you know what war means?" Lauryn spoke excitedly.

"Rapers." Another girl, Cate called from farther away, monotone. "Foreign men coming into the city in siege, taking over the villages."

"It means more clients, Cate." Sylvi's voice quickly silenced the small talk, as she walked to the table and sat, ready to be served her complimentary meal. Her place at the table, as always, was already set, and she reached for her wine immediately. "War means the king calls for more men. They leave their wives, and with no one to warm their bed, they come to us."

"Precisely." Lauryn agreed readily. "If war comes, I welcome it. I don't give a shit who sits the throne, as long as the crown prospers enough to put gold in my pocket." She lifted her goblet, a smirk on her face at her own clever musing.

"I'll drink to that." Another girl called from the back, which caused an rupture of quiet laughter through the room.

As you passed to fill an empty cup, Sylvi grabbed you arm, and pulled you in close enough to whisper.

"I require a moment with you." At your confirming nod, she raised from her seat and left to her room. You were quick to follow, leaving the carafe with the girls, who took it readily and saluted your departure.

Once in her lavish rooms, Sylvi sat at her vanity and peered at you through the mirror, an air of drama filled the room and caused you to rock on your toes in an attempt to soothe yourself.

"I see you've met the Prince."

Oh. You'd thought surely this would be a serious conversation, but as you had spoken so few words to the man, you could not see how possibly she could have taken issue with your conversation. Unless the prince had told her about your grabbing the knife, in which you were in deep shit.

"Yes, ma'am." You sat in an armchair and folded your hands in your lap. "He came to ask for wine, and I had some sent with a squire, I believe."

"He seemed to take a liking to you." She brushed off your words just as she now did her hair, her lips pressed into a tight line that betrayed her nonchalant tone. "He asked for you, the next time he graced us with his patronage."

Your throat tightened and your stomach lurched. This can't be. Your conversations were short, and you had nearly insulted him, and then only half obeyed his order by sending someone in your stead with the wine. Perhaps he hoped for a moment alone so he could punish you for your insolence. Perhaps he was just playing at a joke, and Sylvi had taken it for more than he had meant it. Though he did not seem to you a joking type, and Sylvi seemed sure in her words.

Would she sell you to the prince? It hardly seemed as though you would be in a position to refuse, should he insist on a private meeting with you. But perhaps Sylvi had a sway with the prince that others did not.

"I...don't understand, ma'am. I do not-"

"Of course, I told him you were not that type of girl." She reassured. "He listens to me, you know. I'm one of the only he bears his heart to." Her voice took on a dreamier tone. "I'm the only woman he's known."

"I had no idea." I spoke distantly, still reeling at the idea of being asked for personally, and by a man of such high standing.

"What did you say to him? When he came to the kitchens. I sent him for wine, and he comes back without wine, and with a sudden interest in you" She turns around now, her eyes appraising and scrutinizing.

"I did not say anything, ma'am. I had mistaken him for a mere lord at first, I told him to leave. And then he ordered the wine, and I told him it would be done! I promise, there was nothing untoward, and no advances."

You spoke at a mile a minute to plead your case. It was clear this woman had an attachment to the prince, and you would not give the impression that you were there to threaten it. Sylvi was a kind woman, but a burn so scalding might just scorch her heart enough to cast you out.

"I swear it to you, ma'am. I've no interest in the prince, and he none in me. If anything, he only wishes to punish me privately for the way I behaved before I knew he was the prince." She nodded at your words.

"Nonetheless, I let him know you were not available. He did not take the refusal well, but such is his way. Dragons are not used to the word 'no'." She readjusted and smiled at you. "It's nothing to worry at, my dear. Just go about your duties, and do not speak to the prince again. He'll forget you in time." You nodded and stood to leave.

"Thank you. You've done such a kindness for me, and I owe you my life. I would never make such a slight against you, please know that." Her dismissing nod and small tired smile was enough for you to turn and take your leave.

The women had filled their bellies of wine and broth, and some began to make way to their beds, others staying around to gossip. You approached the lingering girls, grabbing a loaf from the table and sitting on a chair to eat.

"So, will you?" Lauryn, who still remained, asked you, as if the incomplete question was all you needed to know. When you only responded with a questioning look, she rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Will you fuck him? Everyone here heard the prince and Sylvi's clash. He wanted you. He begged for you!" The other girls began giggling and wiggling their eyebrows at you. "It drove her mad! He doesn't want her anymore."

"Not wanting Sylvi is one thing, but wanting you is another." Another girl, Maria, a Dornish delicacy, played with her hair as she spoke with a natural coolness. "If you don't want to, of course you shouldn't, but you should consider it. A prince would pay handsomely, perhaps even enough for you to move on."

"I would not do that to Sylvi, I would not do it at all. I wouldn't even know how, I'm not versed in the...fetishes of men."

"She told him such, but he would not hear it. He asked for an exception to be made, perhaps a private arrangement. If anything, it seemed to appeal to him more, knowing you were still untouched." Lauryn jumped back in, eager to return back to her teasing.

"I would only lay with a man I chose. I did not have the option before I left home, but I do now, and I will choose myself who I bed." And with that, you stood to leave, retiring to your room for the night.

[syluslnd]

hello! can i request heavy angst with sylus and mc? like them never officially being in a relationship but clearly belonging to eachother, keeping a love-hate slowburn dynamic so it's nothing knew when they fight, but one day they get into a really bad, heated argument. out of anger sylus says something he immediately regrets and mc leaves (also out of anger) but something happens and they don't come back. (you can decide if it's happy ending or not)! thank you in advance!

house of cards

word count 5.6k

tags- angst no comfort,verbal insults ,death,dead dove,grieving

──── ୨୧ ────

The night was cool and the dim streetlights of Onychinus cast long shadows over the pavement. You waited outside one of Sylus’s known hideouts, a secluded bar where his lieutenants often gathered. It had become routine—waiting.

You leaned against the rough stone wall, arms crossed, trying to calm the growing frustration. He hadn’t reached out in days and when he did, it was for one thing—hooking up, nothing more, nothing less. Every time you tried to talk about something real, something deeper, he deflected with that arrogant smirk or one of his quick dismissals.

It was driving you mad. You wanted more than the casual, heated exchanges. But how could you demand more from someone who wouldn’t even admit what you were to him?

Footsteps echoed behind you and you straightened, turning to see Sylus approaching, his tall frame cutting through the dim light like a shadow. He looked as composed as ever, eyes sharp and calculating. You couldn’t deny the way your heart raced at the sight of him but the growing anger inside kept you from softening.

“You’ve been busy” you muttered as he stopped in front of you, crossing your arms tighter over your chest.

Sylus raised a brow, his expression unreadable. “What can I say, sweetie? I run an empire. It keeps me occupied.” His tone was casual, indifferent, like he wasn’t fazed by your clear annoyance.

“That’s the problem” you shot back, your voice edged with frustration. “You’re always ‘occupied.’ When was the last time we spent more than an hour together without it turning into some… thing? It’s like you don’t even care unless we’re in bed.”

He chuckled softly, though there was a sharpness behind it. “You’re upset because I’m busy? You knew what this was.”

His dismissiveness was the last straw. “Is that all this is to you?” you asked, your voice rising. “Just something casual whenever you feel like it?”

Sylus’s expression darkened slightly, his calm demeanor still intact but there was something colder in his eyes now. “You’re making this bigger than it is.”

Your chest tightened. How could he be so dismissive? You weren’t asking for the world just… something more than this half-life with him. “Bigger than it is? Sylus, you barely talk to me unless you want something. I’m tired of feeling like an afterthought. I deserve more than that.”

For a moment, his expression softened but it was fleeting. He stepped closer, his hand reaching for your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. “What do you want from me?” His voice was low, almost dangerously calm. “I’m not the kind of man who makes promises. You know that. But you’re still here.”

You pulled away from his touch, the sting of his words echoing in your mind. “I don’t know how much longer I can be” you admitted, your voice quieter now, the weight of it hitting both of you.

Sylus watched you pull away, a flicker of something passing through his eyes—annoyance maybe or something deeper that he wasn’t about to show. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before dropping it back to his side.

“Fine” he said, voice laced with irritation “I’ll make it up to you. Let’s go out. Will that make you happy?” His words felt more like an obligation than a genuine apology, as if he were doing you a favor by even suggesting it.

You scoffed lightly, the apology clearly lacking any sincerity. “Really, Sylus? An apology and an offer to go out, just like that? You think that’s enough?”

He rolled his eyes, the sharpness of his usual calm starting to crack just a little. “You’re not making this easy. I’m trying here.” There was a slight edge to his voice but his gaze softened for a moment. “So, where do you want to go?”

You bit back the retort that almost escaped, knowing pushing too far too fast wouldn’t get either of you anywhere. “The arcade. I want to go to the arcade” you said, watching him closely.

Sylus’s expression shifted and for a second, the irritation returned. He didn’t hide the slight frown tugging at his lips. “An arcade?” he repeated, like the idea was absurd for someone like him. “You want me to take you to a place full of flashing lights and teenagers wasting time?”

A small smile crept onto your face despite the tension. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I want. It’s fun, Sylus. Or have you forgotten how to have fun?”

His eyes narrowed, clearly not amused by the teasing. But then, after a pause he sighed again this time more resigned. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t much of an apology and you could tell he was annoyed but there was something in the way he relented that caught you off guard. Sylus was many things—cold, ruthless, always in control—but every now and then you caught these small moments where it seemed like he was trying, even if he didn’t fully understand why.

“Thank you” you said, keeping your voice soft but not letting the gratitude carry too much weight. You didn’t want him to think everything was forgiven just because he agreed to one date. “We’ll go tomorrow, okay?”

He glanced at you, something unreadable in his gaze. “Sure. Tomorrow.”

You nodded, the awkward silence hanging between you like a thin thread. You didn’t know if you should say more or if this was one of those moments where you just let things settle. Sylus turned away but just before he walked off, his hand brushed yours—light, almost hesitant. It was a fleeting touch, gone before you could react but it lingered all the same.

The neon lights from the arcade spilled out onto the busy street, reflecting off the windows as people moved in and out, laughing and shouting over the sound of the games inside. You stood near the entrance, arms crossed, glaring at your phone. Sylus was late again. It wasn’t like this was a surprise—he was always late—but today, it stung more than usual. You had put effort into this. You wanted to have fun, just once, without all the complications. But, of course, Sylus had to ruin that by being Sylus.

You checked your phone again. 30 minutes late.

Your jaw clenched, anger boiling just beneath the surface. This wasn’t just about tonight—it was about all the other times he brushed you off, made you wait, or treated you like something he could pick up and drop whenever he felt like it. You were tired of being patient, tired of pretending it didn’t bother you when it did.

The sound of footsteps behind you caught your attention and you didn’t need to look to know it was him. Sylus always had a presence—a certain energy that shifted the air around him. Still, you didn’t turn right away, letting him stand there for a moment while you seethed in silence.

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart” Sylus’s voice came smooth as ever, carrying that casual arrogance that drove you mad. You could feel his gaze on you, waiting for you to respond. “Business, you know how it is.”

You slowly turned to face him, the anger barely contained as you stared him down. “You’re thirty minutes late, Sylus.”

He tilted his head, his smirk teasing. “I thought you’d be used to it by now.”

That infuriating smirk—it was enough to make you want to scream. But this wasn’t the place. You were surrounded by kids, teenagers, people who didn’t know the kind of world Sylus lived in. You couldn’t make a scene, not here, even though every nerve in your body begged you to let loose.

“I’m tired of it” you said quietly, your voice sharp but low, careful not to draw too much attention. “You’re always late. It’s like you don’t even care.”

He stepped closer, his height casting a shadow over you but it wasn’t his size that had your heart racing. It was the way he looked at you, like he could see through every wall you put up and worse like he found it amusing. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You narrowed your eyes, refusing to let him distract you with his charm. “Don’t start with that. You think showing up late and calling me ‘cute’ is going to make this better?”

Sylus’s eyes glinted and he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering just enough that only you could hear him. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

There it was. That casual confidence the way he twisted every situation in his favor and the worst part? He was right. You were still here. But it wasn’t because you didn’t have enough self-respect to walk away—it was because, despite everything, some part of you still wanted this. Wanted him.

“You think I’m just going to let it slide every time?” you shot back, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to maintain your composure in public.

He chuckled softly that rich, deep sound that sent a shiver down your spine despite your anger. “You’ll let it slide because you want to be here with me. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

Your pulse quickened as his words hit deeper than you’d like to admit. He wasn’t wrong but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. You swallowed, trying to keep control of the emotions that were bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

“I wanted us to have a normal night” you muttered, glancing away to avoid his piercing gaze. “Just one night where we didn’t have to deal with your… business. But you couldn’t even show up on time.”

For a brief moment, something shifted in Sylus’s expression—something softer, almost like regret. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that familiar teasing smirk. “I’m here now. Isn’t that what matters?”

You looked at him, searching for any sign that he really cared, that he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear. But Sylus was a master at hiding his true feelings. He could be teasing one second and dangerous the next, always keeping you guessing.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. “It’s not about you being here now. It’s about everything. About the way you treat me like an afterthought, like I’m only here when it’s convenient for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered by your words. “You’re making this way too complicated, sweetheart.”

You clenched your fists, taking a deep breath to calm the storm brewing inside. “Maybe it’s not that complicated to want someone who actually gives a damn.”

Sylus smirked again, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “I give enough of a damn to be here, don’t I?”

His closeness was overwhelming, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating at the same time. You hated how easily he could pull you in, how his words—no matter how frustrating—always had a way of making you second-guess yourself. But you couldn’t let him win this time.

“Being here isn’t enoug” you whispered, your voice tense with emotion. “I need more than that.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face, as if considering his next move. Then, with a soft, almost mocking chuckle, he brushed a stray piece of hair from your face, his fingers barely grazing your skin. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You didn’t respond, biting your lip to keep the tears that were building up from spilling. You weren’t going to cry—not here, not in front of him. But the way he looked at you, like he could see every crack in your armor, made it hard to keep your emotions at bay.

After a long pause, he sighed, though it sounded more like annoyance than sympathy. “Alright, fine. I’ll make it up to you. We’re here now, let’s just enjoy the night,okay kitten”

You wanted to scream at him, to tell him that ‘enjoying the night’ wasn’t enough to fix what was broken between you two. But instead, you just nodded, knowing full well that this wasn’t the time or place for a real argument.

“Yeah” you muttered, your voice hollow. “Let’s enjoy the night.”

You stood in front of the claw machine, gripping the joystick harder than necessary, your eyes narrowed in concentration. The bright, colorful stuffed animals inside were taunting you, mocking your every failed attempt to grab one. You had already wasted several coins and each time the claw just slipped off the prize at the last second, your frustration only grew.

Sylus leaned against the machine behind you, his arms crossed and a smirk dancing on his lips. You could feel his gaze on you and it wasn’t helping your mood. You were still pissed—at him, at his nonchalant attitude, at the whole situation.

“Having trouble sweetie?” Sylus asked, his voice laced with amusement.

You didn’t answer, your jaw clenched as you maneuvered the claw over a plush toy that looked easy enough to grab. You hit the button, watching as the claw descended… only for it to fumble and drop the toy yet again. You cursed under your breath, stepping back from the machine in frustration.

Behind you, Sylus chuckled softly, clearly entertained by your struggle. “You know, you might be better at this if you weren’t so mad.”

“Shut up” you muttered, glaring at the machine like it was somehow responsible for your anger.

Sylus pushed himself off the wall, coming to stand beside you. “Let me try.”

You hesitated, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but eventually stepped aside with a sigh. Sylus slid a coin into the slot, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he wasn’t in any kind of rush. He tilted his head, studying the plush toys inside with a cool, calculating expression—like this was some kind of challenge he needed to win just to prove a point.

He moved the joystick with ease, barely paying attention and then pressed the button. You watched as the claw descended, grabbed a stuffed bear and successfully lifted it up, dropping it neatly into the prize chute without a hitch.

You stared at the bear in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Sylus grinned, reaching in to grab the prize. “What can I say? I’m just lucky.”

You rolled your eyes still too annoyed to let it go. “It’s not luck when you don’t even care.”

He handed you the bear, his smirk softening just a little. “Here. Something to remember me by when I’m not around.”

You took the bear reluctantly, not sure whether to be touched or even more irritated. There was something in the way Sylus looked at you in that moment, though—a fleeting softness, like he was enjoying being here with you, even if he didn’t say it outright.

For a few minutes, it was almost… normal. You grabbed some drinks from the concession stand and you found yourself relaxing—just a little. The arcade lights, the sound of people laughing and playing games and even Sylus’s teasing remarks all blended into a strange sense of calm. Maybe it wasn’t perfect but it was something.

You took a sip of your drink, glancing at Sylus. “You think you can beat me at air hockey?”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Sweetie you really want to challenge me?”

You shrugged, smiling for the first time since he showed up. “I’m just saying, you won’t win twice in a row.”

Sylus chuckled, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

The banter felt easy, natural even and for the first time in a long while, you were actually having fun with him—laughing, teasing, almost forgetting how mad you were earlier.

But just as you were starting to think the night might turn around, Sylus’s phone rang. You watched as his playful demeanor vanished, replaced by that familiar cold detached look that always came when something serious was happening.

He answered the call, turning away from you slightly but you could still hear bits and pieces of the conversation. It was business, obviously—Onychinus business.

You sighed, already knowing where this was headed.

After a few minutes Sylus hung up, his jaw tight. He didn’t look at you right away, as if he was bracing for your reaction.

“Let me guess” you said, your voice bitter. “You’ve got to go.”

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at you apologetically. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You stared at him, your earlier frustration flooding back in an instant. “Make it up to me? You said that last time and the time before that.”

Sylus opened his mouth to respond but you cut him off your anger spilling over. “You know what? I’m done hearing your excuses. Every single time we try to do something, you end up bailing. I’m not an afterthought, Sylus.”

His gaze flickered but he remained calm, almost too calm. “It’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like?” you snapped. “Because it sure as hell feels like I’m just something you deal with when it’s convenient.”

He sighed, his patience clearly wearing thin. “You know how this works. I don’t get to choose when I get called.”

“You don’t get to choose?but you also don’t seem to care how it affects me” you shot back. “You always have time for business but never for me.”

Sylus’s jaw clenched and for a second you thought he might snap. But instead he just took a deep breath his voice low and controlled. “I’m trying to keep you out of this. That’s why I don’t bring you into my world more than I already have.”

You laughed bitterly. “Oh, so this is you protecting me? By making me feel like I don’t matter?”

He stepped closer his voice dropping even lower. “You do matter. But I can’t always be there when you want me to be.”

You looked up at him your anger mixing with something else—something closer to hurt. “I don’t need you there all the time, Sylus. I just need you to act like you care.”

For a brief moment his expression softened and you could see something flicker in his eyes—guilt, maybe or regret. But just as quickly as it appeared it was gone, replaced by that same cold distant look he always wore when things got too close, too real.

“I’ll call you later” he said, his tone clipped.

You stared at him in disbelief. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Sylus hesitated but eventually turned and walked away leaving you standing there your heart sinking as the sound of the arcade faded into the background.

It had been a week. A whole week without so much as a call or a message from Sylus. Each day that passed made your frustration grow until it morphed into a bitter, burning anger.

You knew this wasn't a relationship-he had never promised that. But still, the silence gnawed at you, his dismissive attitude felt like a slap in the face. All the excuses about his work, his responsibilities-none of them felt like enough anymore.

So when you heard a knock at your door and opened it to see Sylus standing there like nothing had happened you felt your blood boil.

“Hey kitten” he said casually, as if the past week hadn’t happened. He leaned against your doorframe his sharp eyes scanning you with a cool detached air. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. You could’ve at least called.”

You stared at him your anger simmering just beneath the surface. How could he be so nonchalant? So unaffected?

You tried to stay calm to hold it together but the way he stood there acting like everything was fine like he hadn’t disappeared without a word set you off. “I could’ve called?” you repeated, your voice shaking with anger. “Are you serious right now?”

Sylus shrugged, his usual smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah sweetie I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” You felt the anger bubbling over and before you could stop yourself you stepped closer your fists clenched at your sides. “You disappeared for a week, and now you just show up like it’s no big deal? Do you even realize how pissed off I am?”

His gaze flickered with mild amusement as if your anger was some sort of game to him. “You’re always pissed off.”

You glared at him your chest tightening. “Because you give me every reason to be! You act like you don’t even care.”

Sylus chuckled, his eyes softening just slightly as he watched you fume. “You’re so adorable when you’re angry.”

His words were the final straw. You felt tears welling up in your eyes and you hated it—hated that he could make you feel like this, like your anger didn’t matter, like you didn’t matter. He had come here for one thing, and you knew it. That much was obvious by the way he was already moving closer his hand reaching for your waist as if he could just sweep all your anger away with a touch.

But you stepped back, stopping him in his tracks. “No.”

Sylus blinked, surprised by your sudden resistance. “No?”

“I’m not doing this” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m not just going to let you walk in here and act like everything’s fine.”

He stared at you his brow furrowing as if he didn’t quite understand why you were so upset. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you don’t give a damn about me” you snapped, your voice cracking as the tears finally spilled over. “You show up when it’s convenient for you, when you want something and I’m just supposed to go along with it? I’m not some toy you can pick up and put down whenever you feel like it, Sylus!”

For the first time Sylus didn’t have a clever comeback. He just stood there his smirk fading his expression hardening into something unreadable and for a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

But then, his phone rang.

Of course.

You watched in disbelief as he pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen with that same detached expression you had grown to hate. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked back at you. “I have to take this.”

“No.” Your voice was low, trembling with barely-contained rage. “You’re not doing this again.”

He paused, his hand hovering over the phone. “I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice” you spat. “You just never choose me.”

Sylus’s jaw tightened but he remained silent his fingers gripping the phone as if it was some kind of lifeline. The phone kept ringing the sound filling the tense space between you like a countdown to something inevitable and that was it. That was the moment you snapped.

“You’re a cold-hearted bastard, you know that?” you said your voice rising as your anger reached its breaking point. “All you care about is your damn job, your stupid mafia game and yourself. You don’t care about me. You never did.”

Something in Sylus’s eyes darkened at your words but you were too far gone to stop now. “You act like you’re so untouchable, like nothing and no one matters to you. Well, guess what, Sylus? You’re not untouchable. You’re just a coward who can’t handle real emotions. You’re pathetic.”

His hand clenched around the phone, his calm exterior cracking just enough for you to see the anger brewing beneath the surface. “Watch it” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

But you didn’t back down. “No, you watch it. I’m done pretending like this is something it’s not. You show up when you feel like it, you leave whenever you get a call and you expect me to just wait around for you like I don’t have my own life. Well, I’m done. I’m done being your damn convenience.”

Sylus’s eyes narrowed, his voice a deadly whisper. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m talking about” you shot back. “I’m talking about how you treat me like I don’t matter, like I’m just here for your amusement.”

The tension in the room was thick, suffocating and for the first time Sylus didn’t have his usual cocky, unbothered expression. He looked… furious.

And then, in a moment of weakness, you said the words that changed everything. “You know what’s worse? We’re not even a couple. We’re not anything. I’m nothing to you, right? Just some girl you hook up with when you’re bored.”

Sylus’s expression turned cold, ice spreading through his gaze. His voice was quiet but sharp as a knife. “You’re right.”

The air was sucked from your lungs. You stared at him, feeling like the ground had just been ripped out from beneath you. He didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t deny it. He just… confirmed it.

“We’re not a couple” Sylus continued his voice brutally calm. “We never were. You knew what this was from the start.”

You took a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. His words cut deeper than any knife ever could. You had known of course you had known. But hearing him say it out loud, hearing the cold finality in his voice—it broke something inside you.

Tears welled up in your eyes again but this time they weren’t from anger. They were from heartbreak. You couldn’t even look at him anymore. “I hate you” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Sylus flinched, just slightly but he quickly masked it. “Go ahead, hate me all you want. It doesn’t change anything.”

You stared at him for a moment longer then turned on your heel and stormed out of the apartment. You didn’t care where you were going. You just needed to get away from him, from the pain, from everything.

The night outside was dark and cold the streets of Onychinus dangerous as ever. But you didn’t care. You were too hurt, too broken to care. You just kept walking, your tears blurring your vision as the world around you faded into nothingness.

And Sylus… didn’t follow.

Sylus had been drowning in work. The weight of Onychinus bore down on him heavier than usual. One of his trusted men had been leaking information—details of transactions, routes, even the inner workings of their operations. It was enough to shake the entire foundation he had built over the years.

He couldn’t afford to let this weakness show. Weakness in his world meant death. So he buried himself in the chaos, his mind constantly racing through strategies to tighten his grip on Onychinus, to snuff out the traitor, to keep his empire from crumbling. It consumed him, and every decision he made carried the cold, calculating precision of a leader who couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

But amidst all the chaos, one thing gnawed at the back of his mind—he hadn’t heard from you in days.

Two days. It wasn’t like you to be completely silent, not after the argument that had ended with you storming out, leaving him standing alone in your apartment. At first, he chalked it up to your stubbornness. You were angry.

You had every right to be. He hadn’t cared enough to check in, hadn’t thought to chase after you when you left. After all, that was how it had always been. You would blow up he’d brush it off and eventually things would return to the way they always were.

But something about this time was different. It lingered in the back of his mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Something was off.

On the third day, he finally caved. He sent Mephisto, his crow, to find you. It should’ve been easy—Mephisto never failed him. But when the bird came back, empty and restless a knot of dread settled in his chest.

His irritation mounted. He called his men, ordering them to find you. You couldn’t have gone far. He didn’t doubt your ability to survive but Onychinus wasn’t the kind of place you wandered alone for long without catching the wrong kind of attention.

As hours turned into days, his frustration grew. His men scoured the city, checking the places you frequented, talking to the few who might have seen you. But each report came back the same—nothing. No sign of you. No trace.

Until that first discovery.

The message came late in the night. One of his men, pale-faced and visibly shaken approached him in the office. Sylus didn’t look up from the mountain of paperwork, his pen scratching across the page.

“Sylus… we found something”the man stammered.

Sylus’s eyes flicked up cold and unbothered. “Spit it out.”

The man hesitated, shifting on his feet. “It’s… her fingernails, sir.”

A sharp silence followed those words. Sylus stopped mid-sentence his pen freezing in place. Slowly, he set it down, his jaw tightening. He didn’t like what was being implied. He refused to acknowledge it.

“Don’t play games with me” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “What are you saying?”

The man swallowed stepping forward with a small bag in his trembling hands. Inside, nestled among dirt and blood, were pieces of fingernails—yours.

Sylus stared at the bag, his expression unreadable. Something dark flickered behind his eyes but he didn’t move, didn’t react, except for the faint tightening of his jaw. “This doesn’t prove anything” he said coolly, his voice sharp as glass. “She could’ve broken them off herself.”

The man flinched. “Sir… you know that’s not—”

“I said” Sylus cut him off, his eyes narrowing dangerously “it doesn’t prove anything.”

The man fell silent but the air in the room shifted, thick with unspoken dread. Sylus’s mind raced, the tension creeping into his chest. He refused to believe it. You were too strong, too smart to fall into something like this. But doubt gnawed at him. He crushed it buried it under layers of ice, refusing to let it take root.

Days passed, and more pieces were found. Little by little, pieces of you scattered across Onychinus like breadcrumbs leading to a nightmare he didn’t want to face. A lock of your hair. A fragment of your skin. The reports kept coming and Sylus’s temper grew colder, sharper. He snapped at his men at anyone who dared to mention what they all knew but didn’t dare say out loud.

“She’s fine” Sylus would say whenever another part of you was found, his voice as hard as steel. “You’re all idiots. She’s playing a game. She’ll show up.”

But he knew. Deep down, he knew.

Then came the day they found your head.

The moment Sylus laid eyes on it, something inside him snapped. Your lifeless face, pale and bloodied, with a twisted smile carved across your lips, stared back at him. His hands clenched into fists, trembling with a fury so raw it threatened to consume him. His men stood back none daring to approach knowing full well the storm that was brewing inside their leader.

And then they found the message. It was simple, scrawled in blood across a torn piece of your clothing:

“I’m always watching.”

One of his enemies. The very traitor he had been hunting lurking in the shadows had taken you from him. They had taken the one weakness he never admitted out loud not even to himself. But now, looking at your head—at the cruel mockery of your death, the message taunting him, daring him to act—he couldn’t deny it anymore.

You were his weakness. The one thing that made him feel something other than cold, ruthless control.

And now… you were gone.

For the first time in his life, Sylus felt guilt. Genuine, gut-wrenching guilt. Regret settled in his chest like a poison, choking him, making it hard to breathe. He had pushed you away. He had let his pride, his work, his goddamn arrogance get in the way and now, because of him, you had suffered. You had died. Alone.

His blood boiled, the rage building inside him, so powerful it felt like it would tear him apart from the inside. He wanted to scream, to tear the world apart with his bare hands. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Sylus couldn’t afford to show that kind of weakness.

Instead, he stood there staring at the message, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. His fingers twitched, longing to crush something to destroy the people who had done this. But he didn’t move. He was still. Cold. Dead inside.

“Clean it up” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper but it held a lethal edge. “and get out.”

His men moved quickly, gathering the remains and clearing the area their eyes downcast, none daring to look at him. They knew better.

Sylus stood there, alone, his hands still trembling. For the first time he didn’t feel in control. He didn’t feel like the unshakable, unstoppable leader of Onychinus. He felt… lost. Empty.

He had always told himself that you didn’t matter. That you were just a fling, a distraction. But now, staring at the empty space where your head had been, he realized how wrong he had been.

You had mattered. You had mattered more than anything else in this godforsaken world and now… you were gone.

And it was his fault.

Sylus’s fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms until they bled. His vision blurred with rage, the weight of his mistake crushing him from all sides.

He would make them pay. Every single one of them. He would tear them apart piece by piece, just like they had done to you. He would make them suffer. But no matter how much blood he spilled, no matter how many bodies he left in his wake, it wouldn’t change the truth.

He had lost you and he would never forgive himself for that.

[diamjem]

braver than me

pairing: sebastian sallow x f!mc

summary: sebastian is a coward. lucky for him, she’s not.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, pining, no use of y/n, sebastian is a coward

a/n: there’s just something about writing sebastian being hopelessly in love. like yes yes pls brain more!! i think it’s all the angst i’ve piled up as wips in my gdocs. enjoy n have a good day my loves!

[ao3] [wattpad]

sebastian was by no means a bashful man.

he’s been called many things in his time, but bashful had never made the list—not like confident, brazen, or his favorite, audacious. better yet: arrogance with legs, as ominis often put it, though in his typically snide way. sebastian, for his part, didn't mind it. matter of fact, he wore it like a badge of honor, shiny and dazzling. to him, there was a certain satisfaction in standing out. if everyone else was scrambling to find their place, sebastian had already claimed his. carved it out of sheer determination.

so why—why in merlin’s name—was he suddenly so timid when she was near? why, when it came to her, did he suddenly lose all sense of the man he thought he was?

it wasn’t as if he hadn’t spent every waking moment in her company. their time together had become so familiar, so entwined in the fabric of his daily life, that he'd stopped counting the hours they'd spent laughing, bickering, teasing—just being. she had become a constant, more than a friend, really. though "friend" was probably the closest word, but now? it felt wide off the mark. especially since a friend didn’t become tongue-tied when talking to her. a friend didn’t feel his pulse race when her fingers brushed his in the corridors. and a friend certainly didn’t blush like a fool at the sound of her laugh.

and it’s not like sebastian wasn’t aware of it, of course. he wasn’t blind to his own shifting thoughts and feelings. he had enough sense to recognize the telltale signs: the quickened heartbeat, the constant wandering of his thoughts back to her, the way his chest felt too tight when she was near. schoolboy feelings—childish, ridiculous, and entirely beneath someone like him. yet here he was, drowning in them. but knowing didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

there were moments when he thought about just telling her outright. dropping the weight of his feelings at her feet and dealing with whatever came after. it seemed so simple in theory. but in practice? all that mettle goes flying out the window.

instead, he became an embarrassing, bumbling mess. words tumbled out of him awkwardly, half-formed and nonsensical, or worse, he’d overcorrect and lean too hard into teasing, only to feel an immediate sting of regret when her expression faltered ever so slightly. she deserved better than his idiocy, but merlin help him, he didn’t know how to be anything else when it came to her.

for someone who prided himself on his charm and quick wit, sebastian had never felt so completely, hopelessly out of his depth.

in fact, it had gotten so bad that he’d taken to actively avoiding her. hiding. the idea was absurd, really. he was sebastian sallow, for merlin's sake. avoiding her was something someone with far less nerve would do. but there he was, sneaking through corridors, ducking into alcoves. he’d even locked himself in his dorm on more than one occasion, feigning a headache or some other excuse when ominis inevitably called him out on it.

but eluding her was becoming a cruel joke—one hogwarts itself seemed eager to play along with. the castle, grand and labyrinthine, conspired against him in ways he couldn’t quite explain. it was as if every hallway, every twisting corridor, every hidden nook was designed to lead him straight to her.

sebastian was on his way to a secluded spot he'd claimed for himself—quiet, tucked away, the perfect refuge for the pages of a book that promised to keep his mind distracted. that was the plan, at least, but luck—his luck, at least—was as cruel as ever.

he turned the corner and, there she was. she sat on the wide sill of a stained-glass window, knees drawn to her chest, her chin resting on them as she stared out toward the lake. her hair caught the light just so, the golden afternoon sun casting a soft glow around her that made her look almost ethereal.

as if on instinct, his heart skipped in giddy betrayal at the sight of her. but even as his chest swelled, his mind betrayed him, blanking entirely—completely and utterly useless, as it always seemed to be when she was anywhere in his line of sight. if he didn’t move soon, she’d surely find him staring ridiculously at her. but he was rooted to the spot, staring like a fool. it's not too late to keep walking. he could just move past her, pretend he hadn’t seen her. it wasn’t like she’d spotted him yet…

“i know you’re there, sebastian. i can see your reflection in the glass.”

her voice shattered his internal debate, soft but laced with unmistakable amusement. she turned her head toward him, her lips quirking into the faintest curve, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

every plan of escape evaporated in an instant at the sight of her smile.

“where were you headed to?” she asked, tilting her head as if daring him to lie.

he swallowed hard, clearing his throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but his voice came out in a stammer. “i… uh, y’know, j-just around,” he mumbled, immediately cursing himself for how he sounded because not one single syllable of that had been nonchalant.

“by around, you mean away from me?” she accused, her tone light but sharp enough to cut through his feigned indifference. “you think i haven’t noticed how you’ve been avoiding me like the plague?”

his stomach dropped, panic bubbling to the surface. “w-what? no,” he blurted, far too quickly and far too loudly to even be remotely convincing. “why would i be avoiding you?”

she shrugged, one of her brow quirking upwards. “you tell me.”

“well, i’m not.” he insisted, gripping the leather-bound book in his hand like it was some kind of lifeline. he waved it slightly for emphasis. “i’m only… looking for a nice, quiet place to read my book.”

her eyes narrowed playfully, but there was something curious lingering in her gaze. “okay, prove it.”

“prove it?” he repeated, blinking at her as if she’d just asked him to duel her right there in the hallway.

“sit with me,” she said simply, shifting slightly to make room on the windowsill beside her. her smile widened puckishly as she patted the empty space next to her. “you know, i find this spot quite serene, nice for reading. there's even a great view of the lake, and the added bonus of my presence. isn’t that just what you're looking for? unless, of course, you really are running from me.”

sebastian froze, his mind racing as every excuse he could possibly muster flitted through his head. he could still walk away, couldn’t he? he could laugh it off, make some joke, anything to escape the situation before he made an even bigger fool of himself.

but the look in her eyes held him there, rooted in place, and something in him knew—she knew exactly what she was doing. she was testing him, waiting to see if he’d take the bait. and if he ran now, she’d never let him live it down. worse, he wasn’t sure he would.

gathering every ounce of composure he could muster (which, to be honest, wasn’t much), he crossed the short distance between them, his legs feeling like lead. slowly, he perched on the windowsill beside her, keeping just enough distance to keep himself from spiraling further but close enough that her warmth brushed faintly against him.

“there,” he muttered, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the lake outside. “happy?”

her smile softened, though he couldn’t bring himself to look directly at her to see it. “very,” she said, her tone softer now, less teasing.

sbastian tried—really tried—to focus on his book, but it was pointless. her presence beside him was unbearable in the best and worst ways, every tiny shift she made pulling his attention away like a magnetic force. the soft brush of her shoulder against his, the faint scent of her perfume, the way her hair caught the light—it was maddening.

and just when he thought he couldn’t handle more, she scooted closer to him.

“sebastian, have i done something to upset you?” she asked, her voice gentle but tinged with an earnestness that made his chest tighten.

his fingers toyed with the edges of his book. “what makes you think that?” he asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

“oh, really?” she dragged the word, sarcasm biting in her tone. “you hide from me, you don’t talk to me, and when you do, you can barely look at me. it’s… quite unsettling.”

that sounded like a challenge, and if anything, sebastian never backed down from a challenge. so with a sharp exhale, he forced himself to look at her directly. his dark eyes locked onto hers, and though his intention had been to put her at ease, his intensity clearly had the opposite effect.

she blinked, recoiling slightly as a blush spread on her cheeks. “nevermind, that’s even more unsettling. merlin.”

her words threw him, his brow furrowing as his mouth twitched into something between a scowl and a smirk. “i-i thought you wanted me to look at you,” he replied, his voice coming out higher than intended.

“yes, look at me—n-not bore holes into my soul.” she argued, crossing her arms defensively.

sebastian let out a frustrated laugh, dragging a hand through his already disheveled hair. “i don’t understand what you want from me.”

“just—be normal!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “merlin knows you haven't been in a while!"

she huffed, turning her face toward the window, as if the act could somehow hide the deep crimson spreading across her cheeks.

sebastian, on the other hand, rather than feel chastised, found himself even more endeared. it only proved her right—he hadn’t been normal (whatever normal meant) in a long while. a normal sebastian would’ve jumped at any opportunity to tease her, to throw a cheeky remark her way that would’ve left her rolling her eyes or swatting at him playfully. he would’ve poked at her for being so flustered, delighted in the way she tried to mask it with her sharp wit. but now? now he felt utterly and hopelessly unarmed.

was it possible to be both terrified and thrilled at the same time? because that was what she did to him—tied him in knots while making him feel like he could take on the world. and yet, every time he tried to find the words to express even a fraction of what was going on inside him, they tangled in his throat, leaving him helpless and, frankly, hysterical.

she bit her lip as she traced invisible lines on the frosted panes. “i can't believe it’s come to a point where i have to say this,” she muttered. “but i miss you, sebastian. i miss my friend.”

that would have made his heart stop, if only she hadn’t said the word “friend.” it seems that word haunted him more than it should. reminded him of his place—of his cowardice.

he could feel the way his chest subtly deflated, the way his shoulders drooped just a fraction, as though the weight of her words had suddenly doubled. had she noticed? he hoped not. it was humiliating enough to feel the sting of disappointment so fiercely; he couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be if she saw it, too. because then she’d ask. and if she asked, he’d have to tell her everything because, merlin help him, he wasn't sure he had the fortitude to resist her charms.

he opened his mouth, determined to say something—anything to reclaim a shred of normalcy—but all that came out was a pitiful, incoherent, “i…”

she turned to look at him then. “what is wrong with you lately?” she asked, her voice softer now, though still tinged with a hint of frustration. “you're not… you. you’re quiet and… iffy. you're driving me insane, sebastian.”

you’re driving me insane, too. he wanted to scream, but, of course, he didn’t say that. instead, he swallowed hard, his hands fidgeting awkwardly at the pages of the book on his lap, as though they could somehow express the things his mouth refused to.

“i—i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally managed, though it sounded weak, even to him.

her eyes narrowed, locking onto his as though she was trying to see straight through him. for a long beat, she didn’t say anything, and sebastian swore she’d hit him with a petrificus totalus. he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—he could only wait as she weighed whatever thoughts were swirling in her head.

she opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. when she finally spoke, her voice was steadier. firmer. “oh, to hell with it.”

sebastian didn’t know she could scoot any closer, but she did. the small distance that had remained between them disappeared, and now their noses were practically touching. his pulse quickened, the heat from her proximity fraying every last one of his nerves. her gaze bore into his, and he could do nothing but sit frozen, utterly at her mercy.

“since you don’t have the courage to acknowledge it,” she began, her voice quieter but no less pointed, “i will.”

she gulped. "something’s changed between us, sebastian. don’t try to deny it—i know you feel it too. otherwise, you wouldn't be acting like this."

feel it? of course he felt it. it was all he did these days—feel everything where she was concerned. every stolen glance, every unspoken word, every lingering moment that left his heart racing long after it ended. it consumed him to a pathetic degree. and yet, despite the storm in his chest, he couldn’t seem to find his voice. his hands clenched the edges of his book, knuckles white, as he stared at her in wide-eyed silence.

she took his lack of response as an invitation to continue. “the lingering stares,” she pressed, her tone softening as her cheeks flushed deeper. “the buzz when our hands accidentally touch… it’s unnerving for me too, but that doesn’t make it right to run from me.”

the words pierced straight through him, guilt and longing twisting like a knife in his chest. she deserved better—better than his awkward, stilted avoidance. better than his cowardice.

“what are you saying?” he managed to croak, though his voice was hoarse, and his heart felt as though it might burst from his ribcage.

her cheeks burned brighter—adorable, if only the situation wasn't so utterly terrifying—and for a moment, she hesitated. but then she squared her shoulders, inhaled deeply, and met his gaze with unwavering determination.

“i’m saying, sebastian, that i like you, and i reckon you like me too,” she said, her words coming out in a single breath, as if rushing to get them out before her courage faltered. she exhaled sharply, as though trying to steady herself, and added, “and it’s about bloody time we talked about it.”

sebastian stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. the confession was so unexpected, so raw and vulnerable, that for a moment, he didn’t know if he’d imagined it.

she liked him? she liked him.

the words echoed in his mind, each repetition making his chest swell just a little more. for a fleeting second, he was over the moon. but then, just as quickly, he came crashing back down to earth.

this wasn’t how he’d imagined this conversation going. not even close.

in his head (where he’d been stuck too often lately), he’d planned it all out—he’d bring her a bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked himself, maybe something with those little blue ones she seemed to love so much. he would give a heartfelt speech, every word meticulously practiced, rehearsed so many times in his mind that it could rival a monologue from shakespeare’s plays. not to mention, he would be the one to confess, not the other way around.

but no. his backbone—if one could even call it that—had failed him time and time again, and now here he was, caught off guard and utterly useless in the moment he’d dreamed of for weeks.

her voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. “well, say something, damn it!” she huffed, nudging him hard enough in the shoulder to make him sway.

he exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as the reality of her words sank in. His lips twitched into a small, almost disbelieving smile. “you’re right,” he admitted softly. “something has changed.”

her breath hitched slightly, her expression a mixture of hope and uncertainty. “and?”

“and… merlin’s beard, i’m terrible at this,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his face in frustration. he took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet her gaze, even though it felt like his heart was doing somersaults in his chest.

“i do like you,” he admitted finally, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “i like you more than i can even put into words. that’s probably why i've been such a wreck lately. i kept telling myself i’d tell you eventually, but every time i got close, i just panic and ruin it.” he gestured vaguely at the space—or lack thereof—between them. “and now… now you’ve gone and done it for me.”

a smile twitched at her lips, though she tried to suppress it. “so, what you’re saying is, this is my fault?”

“well, if you’d just waited a little longer—”

“oh, shut it, sebastian,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes but stepping closer nonetheless. “i don’t think either of us would’ve survived waiting any longer.”

“still,” he said, his tone softening, “you deserved something better than my stammering and sweating and… all this.”

“i don’t need much,” she said, her voice gentler now, her gaze softening. “i just need you. preferably not running from me next time, though.”

"yes, well," sebastian let out a shaky breath, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles. “i think i’m done running.”

and for the first time in what felt like forever, his infamous brashness finally roared back to life. without overthinking it, without letting his nerves take hold, he lunged forward. his hands found her face, warm and soft beneath his fingers, and he kissed her. the book on his lap tumbled to the floor with a dull thud, but he didn’t care. it was clumsy, a little too eager, but he didn't care. he didn't care because he was kissing her.

the world tilted, narrowed, and then disappeared altogether. there was only the gentle press of her lips against his, the faint intake of her breath, and the way her hands instinctively gripped the front of his robes to steady herself. it was messy, impulsive, and absolutely him—no, them.

when the kiss broke only slightly, her breathless giggle sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. she leaned just far enough back to meet his gaze, her eyes dancing with amusement. “i suppose this makes us friends again?”

sebastian groaned, resting his forehead against hers. “please, gods, no,” he muttered against her lips, his voice dripping with mock horror.

her laughter bubbled up, light and free, and she tilted her head slightly, her smile almost mischievous. “what, you don’t want to be my friend, sebastian?”

“not even a little,” he said, grinning despite himself. his thumb brushed over the curve of her jaw, his gaze flickering between her lips and her eyes. “no, i’d much rather be whatever this is.”

her grin softened into something more tender, her hands sliding from his robes to rest lightly against his chest. “i think i’d rather like that too,” she admitted softly.

sebastian chuckled, a deep, relieved sound, and leaned in again, pressing his lips to hers once more. this time, it was slower, deliberate, like he was memorizing every second. then again, and again, each kiss growing lazier, sweeter, as if he had all the time in the world to be here, with her, like this.

between the kisses, he muttered softly, his voice thick with emotion. “thank you…” a kiss. “thank you…” another kiss. “for being braver than me.”