#i caught her looking at me a few times and while i was trying not to sob i looked up and saw her staring very intently at me

[3igbootyl0ver]

who hurt you? [iv]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: Tara finally finds the courage to open up and seek help.

word count: 4610

warnings: mentions of abuse, violence, angst

a/n: guys I lied this is NOT the last part. I realized how much I have to write lol but the angst is over, the next part should be just fluff and tara's recovery. this is the longest I wrote so far lol so I hope its not too draggy

part [i] | part [ii] | part [iii]

Tara felt her phone buzz multiple times in a minute. It took her a moment to gain the courage and look at her notifications. 5 missed calls and missed texts from Amber herself. She felt a shiver run down her spine, not sure if it was from the chilly breeze or her fear of Amber coming to get her. Her fingers hovered over the screen, debating whether to respond or power off the phone and ignore the reality of her situation.

Amber

Tara, where are you?

I told you to meet me behind the bleachers.

You just can’t listen, can you??? 

(Missed call from Amber)

Answer your damn phone.

Seriously? Was this about that day? I barely touched you, it was a joke. Don’t be so dramatic

You know I only do these things because you push me. If you didn’t act like this, I wouldn’t have to.

Just get here.Now. 

Tara felt her chest tighten after reading the texts, afraid of what could happen to her, her consequences. “You deserved it anyways,” was what Amber would say to her after she got hurt. At first, Tara had fought against those words, clinging to the belief that she was worth more, that she wasn’t the problem. But over time, the constant barrage of blame and cutting remarks chipped away at her resolve. Amber’s voice had become a whisper in her mind, louder than her own, until one day Tara caught herself nodding in agreement. Maybe she did deserve it. Maybe everything that happened was her fault.

Her breathing grew shallow as the weight of the messages and memories bore down on her. Her phone slipped from her trembling hand, landing on the floor with a soft thud, but she barely noticed. Her chest heaved as panic clawed its way through her, each breath feeling harder than the last. Her vision blurred, and the world around her faded into a distant hum, drowned out by the cruel echoes of Amber’s voice in her head. She clutched her knees, trying to ground herself, but her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably. What if she’s right? What if I deserve everything coming my way? The questions suffocated her, and she felt like she was drowning in her own mind, unable to surface.

Her breath hitched when a familiar face entered her blurry field of vision, concern etched deeply in your furrowed brows. You raised a hand slowly, your movements deliberate and gentle, pausing as if asking for silent permission. When she gave a weak, trembling nod, you knelt down and rested your hand over hers, the warmth grounding her in the chaos of her spiraling thoughts. Your voice followed, soft and steady, cutting through the haze as you spoke words of comfort and reassurance.

“Tara, hey. Look at me. I’m here, okay? You’re safe now. Take a deep breath with me. Let’s do it together—breathe in…and out. Nice and slow. Just like that.” Tara listened to your instructions, slowly gaining back her bearings before tearing up again, overwhelmed by her feelings.

“I’m sorry—I’m such a burden—“ “Hey, I want none of that right now, okay? You’re not alone in this. Whatever’s happening, we’ll handle it together. You’re stronger than this—always have been. It will pass, I promise.” 

It took Tara a while to piece together what happened and where she was. She just had a panic attack. You were there. The softness of your bed beneath her and the faint scent of your room finally grounded her. She blinked a few times, her gaze settling on the familiar surroundings, and the realization hit—she was safe.

You sat beside her, your voice calm as you spoke. “I texted Chad and Mindy to come over,” you said gently. “I thought having some company might help. They’re on their way now.”

Tara nodded slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. The thought of familiar faces brought a small flicker of relief amidst the storm swirling inside her.

-

As soon as the doorbell rang, you hurried to open it. Mindy wasted no time, wrapping you in a tight hug before you could say a word. Her embrace was warm and reassuring, a silent way of saying, We’re here for you. The moment she stepped back, Chad pulled you into his own firm hug, his hand patting your back in solidarity. Their presence immediately lightened the air, filling the space with a sense of comfort and support.

“We won, by the way. There was a party after, but it wouldn’t be the same without you.” Mindy commented, slightly smug about how she scored the winning goal. You’ve never doubted her once; you knew she could do it. 

If Tara was being honest, she was afraid to meet the twins—afraid that she would be posed as the bad friend that avoided them, that she was weak and fragile. The thought of their disappointment, the way they might look at her with concern or pity, sent a wave of anxiety through her. It felt easier to stay away, to hide, than to face the questions and the judgments she imagined they’d have.

Tara took a deep breath, steeling herself as Mindy and Chad walked into the room. The moment Mindy stepped forward, she pulled Tara into a tight, almost desperate hug. Tara froze for a second, then allowed herself to melt into the embrace, feeling the warmth and safety that came with it. Mindy’s voice was soft but firm when she pulled away.

“You don’t have to apologize, Tara. We’re here,” she said, her tone full of concern.

Chad, a few steps behind, offered a reassuring smile before pulling her into his own hug, his hand gently patting her back. “You’re not alone in this,” he murmured, his voice calm and steady. Tara nodded, the overwhelming weight of her anxiety not quite lifting, but at least softened by the comfort of their presence.

As they settled around her, Tara felt an unexpected wave of guilt. If she were being honest, she was afraid of meeting them again—afraid that they would see her as the bad friend who had avoided them, that they would view her as weak and fragile. The thought of disappointing them, of facing their concern or pity, made her stomach turn. It felt easier to stay hidden, to avoid the inevitable questions they would ask about where she had been, why she’d pulled away. But now, as she sat between them, she realized that the fear of their judgment was nothing compared to the warmth of their unwavering support.

Tara took a deep breath, her heart pounding as she finally began to speak, her voice trembling with the weight of the words she’d kept locked inside for so long. She glanced at Mindy and Chad, their faces filled with concern and unwavering support, and it made her feel a little less alone. She told everyone in the room how she started dating Amber; and how things went downhill. By the time Tara ended, she was sobbing uncontrollably, your arms wrapped around her to calm her down. She looked at Mindy and Chad, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve come to you sooner.” Tara said tears still streaming down her face, but her voice stronger than before.

Mindy’s expression softened as Tara spoke, her eyes filled with both sadness and empathy. “Tara, you don’t deserve any of that,” Mindy said, her voice gentle but firm.

“None of it was your fault. Amber had no right to treat you that way, no matter what she said,” Mindy said, her words steady and filled with conviction. “You’re not broken, you’re strong. You’re still here, and you’re fighting. That’s what matters.” Mindy reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.

Chad nodded in agreement, his expression serious. “Mindy’s right. You don’t have to face it alone, you have us.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Tara, you should think about reporting this. What happened to you wasn’t just a mistake—it was abuse. And abuse needs to be taken seriously.”

“I know it’s scary, and I know you’re probably thinking about what Amber might do or say, but we’re here for you, every step of the way. Reporting this to the police isn’t just about getting her in trouble—it’s about protecting yourself and making sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else. You’re not alone in this. We’ll be with you, no matter what you decide.” You added, gently rubbing your hand along her arms, making her relaxed.

Tara sat in silence for a moment, her mind racing with the idea of taking that step. She had never imagined herself going to the police, but now, with Mindy, Chad, and you by her side, it didn’t feel quite as impossible. It was terrifying, but maybe it was the first step toward finally finding peace.

-

A few days later, Tara found herself sitting in a quiet room at the local police station, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked down at the paper in front of her. She had made the decision—she was reporting the abuse. The officer sitting across from her was kind, patient, but Tara could still feel the weight of every word she spoke. She told them everything. About Amber’s manipulation, the slaps, the pushing, the hurtful words. She didn’t leave anything out, though every sentence felt like it ripped open a wound she’d tried to bury for so long. She even included photos of her bruises she would take pictures of throughout the relationship. The officer appreciated it, it adds more evidence even when there’s a big yellowish blotch on her face that didn’t need any more explaining.

When the officer assured her that her report would be taken seriously, Tara couldn’t help but feel a tiny flicker of relief, even though fear still lingered in her chest. She had done the right thing. She hoped. But as Tara walked out of the station, the reality of her decision began to settle in. She had taken a step that could never be undone, and she knew Amber would eventually find out.

And it didn’t take long.

It was the following afternoon when Tara received a call from an unknown number. Her stomach dropped, the familiar anxiety creeping back into her veins as she hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hello?” Tara’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Tara,” came Amber’s voice, cold and filled with venom. “I know what you did.”

Tara’s heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively took a step back, as if she could escape the phone call that had already settled deep into her chest.

“You went to the police, didn’t you? You really think you can get away from me that easily? Blocking my number didn’t do anything, did it?” Amber’s tone was almost mocking, but beneath it was a layer of pure rage. “You’re nothing without me, Tara. Do you really think they’ll believe you? Do you really think I would hurt you? You’re a liar.”

Tara’s grip on the phone tightened, her voice shaking with fear but laced with a newfound resolve. “I’m not lying, Amber. I’m done. You don’t control me anymore.” Amber’s laughter came through the phone, sharp and cruel. “We’ll see about that.” And then the line went dead.

Tara stood there, the cold air biting at her skin, her heart racing in her chest; feeling the fear creep back in, until you called her downstairs for dinner. Ever since you found her during the finals, you managed to convince Tara to stay over at yours for awhile, considering she would’ve been alone at home and you wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.

You went up to the guest bedroom Tara was staying in to see her staring at her phone, slightly taken aback. You could sense her breathing getting shallower and sharper, realizing that she was having an asthma attack and quickly took her inhaler that was placed on the drawers.

She gasped again, but her breath wouldn’t come. Panic began to set in, her heart rate quickening, and she coughed uncontrollably, the sound rough and wet in her chest. The tightness in her throat made it harder to exhale, a wheeze escaping as she forced the air out. It felt as though the very act of breathing had turned into a struggle, and the more she tried, the harder it became. Your hand was already passing the inhaler to her trembling fingers. Tara’s breath hitched, struggling to move as her hands shook, but you placed your hand over hers, steadying it.

"Here, just... take a slow breath in. You can do it," you encouraged, your voice steady as you helped her press the inhaler to her lips. Tara obeyed, inhaling shakily, and within moments, she felt the familiar cooling sensation spread through her chest. The tightness loosened just a little, and she gasped for air, the wheezing beginning to subside.

“Good. Just like that,” you whispered, your hand resting on her shoulder, grounding her. Slowly, Tara's breathing steadied, each inhale coming a little easier than the last, the panic beginning to melt away as the medicine took effect. You stayed by her side, never letting go, just silently offering the comfort she desperately needed.

-

You were starting to get used to the sight of Tara struggling with both panic and asthma attacks throughout her stay at your home. It was a constant ebb and flow, moments where she seemed like she was almost back to herself, only for the anxiety or her breathing to hit her again without warning. At first, it was overwhelming—watching her gasping for air, feeling helpless as she trembled and shook—but over time, you learned how to respond.

You kept her inhaler close, always within reach. You knew the signs now, the way her chest would tighten, the shallow breaths, the subtle shift in her expression that meant her panic was escalating. You knew how to talk her down, how to ground her when the anxiety became too much, and how to steady her when she couldn’t catch her breath. The routine of it had become familiar: gently helping her breathe in through the inhaler, guiding her hands to her chest to ground her, reassuring her with calm words that she wasn’t alone.

But each time it happened, it still broke your heart. You could see the fear in her eyes, the fear of not knowing if she would get through it, the lingering dread that she wasn’t safe. You never left her side during those moments. No matter how many times it happened, you were there—watching, waiting, helping her through it until she found her breath again.

And while it was exhausting, both for her and for you, there was a certain quiet comfort in knowing you could help. Tara was stronger than she gave herself credit for, and you were proud of her every time she pushed through, even when it seemed like too much. With each attack, she seemed to hold onto that strength a little longer, even when she didn't see it herself.

-

After a few weeks of rest and recovery, Tara made the decision to go back to school. It wasn’t easy—every step toward the building felt like it weighed a ton, and her heart would race at the thought of seeing people again, of facing the memories that lurked in every hallway. But she couldn’t hide forever, and despite the anxiety swirling in her chest, Tara knew it was time to take that first step. The news spread like wildfire rippling both in Woodsboro and Blackmore. Everyone seemed to have their own version of the story, but the narrative was clear: Tara and Amber’s relationship was no longer just a private matter—it had become public, and with it, a storm of judgment.

Amber wasted no time in twisting the truth, claiming that Tara had fabricated everything. She told anyone who would listen that Tara was just seeking attention, painting herself as the victim of a lie. Amber played the part of the heartbroken, misunderstood girlfriend, while Tara was cast as the unreliable, dramatic ex who couldn’t handle their breakup. The accusations were swift, harsh, and relentless.

But amidst the gossip, there were small moments of clarity. She still had people who believed her—people like Mindy and Chad, who stood by her side without question. And you. You were her anchor. Every time the rumors swirled, you were there, offering her a steady presence, a reminder that her truth mattered, no matter what anyone else said. The world around her might have been filled with noise, but with your support, Tara began to find her voice again. Even if it took time, even if it was hard, she wasn’t going to let Amber’s lies define her.

The night before, she barely slept, tossing and turning in her bed, replaying the worst-case scenarios in her mind. What if Amber showed up? What if people asked questions she wasn’t ready to answer? But when morning came, you were there to reassure her once more, helping her gather her things and offering quiet encouragement.

“Just take it one step at a time,” you told her, giving her a gentle smile. “You don’t have to face everything all at once. We’ll get through it together.”

As Tara walked through the school gates, she felt a mix of nervousness and determination. She had her inhaler in her pocket, just in case, and a deep breath to calm the jittery nerves that clung to her. There was no going back now, but with each step forward, she could feel the weight on her shoulders lifting just a little bit. She wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

“Hey, Tara!” Serena, a classmate called out, her voice piercing through the crowded hallway. At the sound of her voice, you immediately tensed, a protective instinct kicking in. You weren’t sure if Serena was going to confront Tara, maybe join in the whispers and rumors that had been circulating. But as you glanced at Tara, you could see the hesitation in her expression. She was unsure what to expect from Serena now.

Without thinking, you gently pulled Tara closer, positioning yourself as a shield, ready for whatever was about to happen. Tara stiffened at first, but then she relaxed into you, seeking comfort in your presence. She wasn’t ready to face any more hostility or doubt—not from anyone.

Serena approached, her steps slow but determined. The usual confidence she carried was gone. Her face was softer, almost apologetic, and there was a sadness in her eyes that Tara hadn’t expected. She stopped just in front of you both, looking down at the ground before lifting her eyes to meet Tara’s.

“Tara,” she said quietly, avoiding your eyes. “I owe you an apology. I should’ve believed you from the start. Amber—she did the same thing to me.” Tara blinked, surprised. “You were with Amber too?” Serena nodded, her voice trembling.

You could feel Tara’s grip on your arm tighten, the weight of the moment sinking in. It was clear that this wasn’t just an apology—this was Serena reaching out to Tara, extending a hand to show her that she wasn’t alone, that there was someone who understood the pain.

 “She manipulated me, made me feel crazy, like I was the problem. I didn’t see it until I left her. I saw how she treated you and… I didn’t speak up. I’m sorry for that.” Tara stared at her, processing her words. “I didn’t know… I thought it was just me.”

“I know. I should’ve been there for you,” Serena said. “But I believe you, Tara. Amber’s abuse wasn’t your fault.” Tara’s shoulders slumped, relief and confusion mixing in her eyes. “Thank you. I.. I’m glad you’re saying this.”

Serena gave a soft nod. “I’m here for you, anytime. You’re not alone.”

As Serena walked away, Tara exhaled deeply, her grip on you loosening. The weight wasn’t gone, but knowing Serena understood made the burden a little lighter.

-

It’s been a few weeks since Tara had the courage to start attending school again, and while the halls still felt heavy, there was a noticeable shift in her. The whispers had faded to a dull murmur, and the judgmental stares were fewer, replaced with something a bit more tolerable—curiosity, or maybe even a touch of guilt from those who had doubted her.

Tara had slowly begun to rebuild herself, day by day. With Mindy, Chad, and even Serena’s unexpected support, she had started to find the strength to face the world again. But every step forward came with its own challenge. Some days were harder than others, and the scars from Amber’s abuse weren’t so easily erased. Yet, Tara was determined to keep moving forward, and even though she wasn’t sure what the future held, she knew she wasn’t as alone as she once believed.

There were still moments of fear, of panic, but each time she faced them, it was a little easier to breathe. With you by her side, offering quiet support, she was starting to believe that maybe—just maybe—she could reclaim her life.

Tara knew she had to go back to her house to retrieve a few things. Her mind raced with memories of Amber, of the chaos and control, but there were still some items left behind that she needs—it would be a mixture of both closure and necessity. The thought of stepping foot inside her old home made her stomach turn, but she knew she couldn’t leave everything behind forever. Tara had spent too long running, too long living in fear. It was time to take those final steps—gathering her things, locking the door behind her, and finally letting go of the past that still haunted her.

She wasn’t sure if she could face it alone, but she didn’t want to burden anyone. Still, the idea of returning to the house she once called home left her feeling vulnerable and anxious. She looked over at you, a soft vulnerability in her eyes, unsure of how to ask for help without seeming weak. “I... I need to go back to my house, just to get a few things. I don't think I can do it by myself."

You immediately reassured her, “You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll go with you.” Tara let out a quiet breath of relief, her shoulders relaxing. “I didn’t want to ask, but I don’t think I can handle it by myself.”

“I’m here for you, always,” you said, offering a gentle smile. “We’ll go together, take whatever you need, and leave. You don’t have to face it alone.”

Tara gave a small nod, her nerves still present but now softened by your support. “Okay. Let’s go.” And with that, the two of you set out, ready to face the past together, step by step.

Several minutes later, you both arrived at Tara’s old house. The familiar sight of it made her pause, a knot tightening in her stomach. The house that once felt like home now felt like a prison—a place filled with too many memories she wasn’t ready to face. You could sense the vulnerability in Tara’s posture as she stepped into the house, the weight of the moment settling over her. You didn’t want to intrude on something so private, so important to her, but you also wanted to be there if she needed support.

“I’ll stay in the car,” you suggested softly, giving her space. “Take your time. I’m right here if you need me.”

Tara glanced back at you, her eyes filled with gratitude, though the fear was still there. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I don’t know if I can do this, but... I’ll try.”

You gave her a reassuring nod as she stepped inside, the door closing softly behind her. You remained in the car, your heart with her, knowing that no matter how long it took, you’d be here when she was ready to leave.

Just as she left the walkway, you saw a sketchy black car across the street. The engine was idle, and a chill ran down your spine. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You quickly glanced at the house, knowing Tara was inside. Your protective instinct kicked in. Without thinking, you got out of the car and headed toward the house, your pace quickening.

Inside, Tara was gathering a few of her things when she heard the faint sound of footsteps behind her. She turned, her blood running cold when she saw Amber standing there, leaning against the doorway with that familiar, malicious smirk on her face.

“You didn’t really think you could get away, did you?” Amber’s voice was low and taunting. She stepped into the room, her eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. “I still have a key, remember?” She stepped forward, her fingers tracing the edge of the doorframe where she had forced Tara to give her the spare key long ago

Before she could react, you burst through the door, your body tense with fury. “Get away from her!” you shouted, stepping between them. Amber’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly sneered, taking a threatening step forward. But you didn’t give her the chance. In one swift motion, you grabbed her by the wrist, slamming her hard against the wall with a sickening thud. Amber gasped, her eyes wide with shock, but you weren’t done. Your fist shot out, connecting with her jaw in a brutal punch that made her head snap back, her body jerking from the force of it. You stomped on the leg that you injured a few weeks ago, making her groan in agony.

Tara gasped, her eyes wide, but the sight of Amber recoiling, clutching her cheek, was like a weight lifting off her chest. You didn’t wait for Amber to recover; you shoved her roughly back against the wall, your hand still gripping her wrist.

“Stay the hell away from her. I don’t care who you think you are,” you growled, your voice cold and deadly. Amber’s eyes flickered with fury, but she was too stunned to fight back properly. Tara stood frozen, watching, feeling a strange mix of fear and relief. Amber spat, her glare venomous. “This isn’t over,” she hissed, trying to regain her composure, but you tightened your grip and stepped closer, your gaze unflinching.

Amber’s breathing grew heavy, but she knew she was outmatched. With one last look of hatred, she wrenched herself away and stormed out of the house, limping while slamming the door behind her. As the house grew quiet again, Tara exhaled shakily, still trembling from the confrontation. You turned to her, your chest heaving, but you gave her a steady, comforting look. 

“She’s gone. Shit—I’m sorry, I knew I should’ve—“ Before you could complete your sentence, Tara rushed into your arms, wrapping her arms tightly around you. She buried her face into your chest, her body shaking, her breath uneven.

“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t apologize. I... I needed that.” Her words were muffled against you, but you could feel the tension leaving her as she clung to you. “I was so scared... but now... I don’t feel so alone.”

You held her tighter, your hands gently rubbing her back as you spoke softly, “You’re not alone, Tara. I’ll always be here. Always.”

Tara nodded, her grip loosening slightly but her face still pressed against you. The world outside felt distant now, the past they’d just confronted fading into the background. What mattered now was the quiet, steady promise that she was safe—here, with you.

-----------

a/n: I'm kind of forcing myself to write longer fics, and I hope this isn't too draggy and boring for u guys. feedback is appreciated :)

[tkwrites]

Soft Launch; Hard Launch - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @kawhh

Title: Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc) 

Warnings: Though most of this is fluff, there is a really nasty comment left on a social media post and mentions of poor self body image.

Summary: 4 times Quinn soft launched his relationship with Sarah, and one time he did it for real.

Word Count: 2,900

Comments: The idea of writing a 4+1 fic for my 500 mark has been rolling around my head for a while, so when I hit 500 followers about a week ago, I thought I'd try my hand at it. Many thanks to @aloragrace and @captainlexaproluvr for looking over this piece and calming my fears about doing new things. I’ve never written in this format before, but I quite like the way this turned out.  I’d love to know what you think!

I'm just bowled over and so excited! Thank you all so much. Knowing people enjoy my writing has been so fulfilling to me. I’ve wanted to write since I was about thirteen, but never had the guts to publish anything for people other than my friends to read. Now that I have and know that people like it, it feels a bit like I’m giving my little inner awkward teenager the best gift she could ever ask for. Thank you for your encouragement, kindness, and support! I can’t tell you how much it means to me.  

If you did enjoy this Snapshot, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot 

1.

The first time Quinn put Sarah on his social media was after they got home from the family reunion. The Monday after she left, he was looking back through his photos while he waited for her to get off work. He found one from their beach day he’d completely forgotten he’d taken. Sarah was kneeling over a tide pool with a few of his cousins, pointing to something in the water, while they looked into her face with rapt attention.

Even though her face was mostly hidden from view, she looked beautiful in that casual way he loved so much. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing a pair of denim shorts along with her orange swim top.

Do you mind if I put this on my stories? he asked later that night, once she'd texted that she’d arrived home safely and would call as soon as she changed.

“I don’t mind,” she told him after they said their initial hellos, caught up on each other's day, and he asked again. “I’m a little surprised this is the first photo you want to go with,” she admitted. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d want to go with something more…” she trailed off, unsure exactly how to phrase what she was thinking. She’d only glanced at it, but from what she remembered, the photo wasn’t anything special. It was from the tide pools, and though it fulfilled the mission of showing her without showing her whole face, she didn’t look excessively beautiful or anything. In fact, the first thing she’d zeroed in on were her stomach rolls. Echoes of girls calling her too fat to be with NHL superstar Quinn Hughes rang in her mind. 

“I like it,” he defended before she could find the right words or slide down the slippery slope of body image woes. “You’re doing what you love.” 

It melted something in her that he looked at that photo and saw her passion. “That’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

“So it’s okay?” 

How could she say no now? “Yeah. It’s okay.”  She reminded herself she wouldn’t see any of the things people were saying about her unless she sought them out, which she had no intention of doing.

He put it up with nothing more than an orange heart in the corner as soon as they hung up from the FaceTime call.

Less than a minute later, Eunice raced into Sarah's room. She was so overly excited, she ran into the door jam, bouncing off of it before regaining her balance. She thrust her phone into Sarah's face. “Quinn put you on his stories!” 

Glancing at the screen, Sarah smiled. “Yeah, he just asked me if he could put that photo up.”

“Oh my god. This is so dreamy,” she gushed, turning the phone back around to look at the picture again. “You look so pretty.” 

2.

The second soft launch was on his main feed at the end of the summer, though he still didn’t show her face.

It wasn’t until they got home from Hawaii and all shared their photos that Quinn realized just how many pictures his mom had taken. He was used to her snapping pictures of them - it was a very common occurrence to look around at any given moment, especially on vacation, to find her brandishing a camera to document everything she could.

He’d never appreciated it more until he was looking through the shared album and saw all the moments his mom caught. There were photos of him and his brothers and him and Sarah once she got there. There was even a video of his and Luke’s shock at their girlfriends’ arrival.  

His favorite picture she took was from the beach outside of their vacation rental. Anxious for a quiet moment together, Sarah pulled him outside to watch the sun set.

The rest of the family was inside, debating something about dinner. They had been on a kayak and hiking tour that day, and he was so tired, he was beyond caring. As long as some kind of food was provided, he’d be fine.  

His mom must have walked out onto the back porch to snap the photo. 

 The sun, sinking into the ocean in front of them, turned them into shadow as Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder. It was the kind of photo people put in vacation advertisements, and when he’d seen it, he knew it had to be included in his end of summer review.

He uploaded it with a carousel of six other photos before captioning the post, One for the books. 

After receiving sixty notifications in the first five minutes, most of them from people he didn’t know asking who the girl in the 5th photo was, he muted the app.

It wasn’t until he looked at the comments that evening and saw, I think this must be that fat bitch he was dating during the season. I was hoping they’d broken up since he didn’t stay in Vancouver this summer and she did, that he disabled comments all together.

He’d been so angry that someone who didn’t know either of them would say anything like that, he had drafted a reply before realizing he was about to engage in a reactionary argument with someone he didn't even know or have any emotional ties to. He wanted to correct them, but knew he should really get PR help to do that. 

When they talked about social media for the first time in their relationship, Sarah explained how the comments from these so-called fans made her feel. Even though she knew they didn’t know her as a person and didn’t have any place in their relationship or lives, it was difficult not to let them get to her. 

He knew the feeling well. He’d gone through the same thing when he accepted the captaincy. The pressure to perform had been so immense, it had turned him into a snappy, short-fused, irritable person until, at the advice of some other captains in the league, he started putting his phone down regularly. 

3. 

The third came when it was his turn to sit for a 32 Thoughts podcast episode with Elliott and Kyle, and they were shooting the breeze before the actual interview began. 

“We missed you at dinner,” Elliott said, referencing a banquet that the league had hosted the night before for all players and press on site for the whirlwind pre-season media tour.

Without really thinking about it, Quinn found himself explaining, “my girlfriend's family lives here, so Jack and I had dinner with them last night.”

“She's not here?” Elliott asked. 

“No, she has stuff going on back home so she couldn't be, but it was nice to see them.” Some players brought family to the media tour, but not many. It was a short stint, shorter than most road trips during the season, so most didn’t bother.

Their producer, Shanna, flashed a red light, letting them know it was time to start the formal interview. Kyle counted down, “three two and one,” before introducing Quinn and starting with the questions. 

At the end of the recording, both Elliott and Shanna asked if he wanted them to cut his talk about his girlfriend and her family from the episode. Usually, they left those anecdotal conversations in, especially on the youtube videos, but this one was a bit more nuanced. 

“I think it should be fine, but can I talk to her about it and get back to you?” 

“Of course,” Shanna said, smiling. “It’s not slated to go up for a few weeks, so just let us know by the 17th.”

When he'd asked Sarah about it that night after arriving home, she seemed unconcerned. 

“I think that's kind of up to you.” She knew from their FaceTime conversation the night before that Quinn, Jack and their agent had eaten at Rachel's house, so there was no risk of someone posting photos and making the connection they were with her family.  

“I mean, people have been speculating you have a girlfriend, right?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” It was more than speculation at this point - most people knew he had someone. They just didn’t know who she was. 

“And people who found my instagram already know I’m from Nevada, so I don’t really see what the worry is.” 

He’d expected her to be more worried about it, but now that she was responding to him with cool logic, he had to admit she had a point. 

The next day, he messaged Elliott along with his agent to let them know they could keep the anecdote in the recording. 

When it hit the airwaves, Sarah purposefully didn’t check any of the messages Eunice sent her for a few days. Eunice had taken it upon herself, and continued at Sarah’s request, to report big gossip to her so Sarah wasn’t tempted to go on the blogs or fan accounts. 

Most responses were sort of victorious bragging, posting about connections with Sarah’s instagram “about me” section where she talked about being from Nevada, feeling that this interview proved them right. 

4. 

The fourth time wasn’t planned. 

When Quinn got home from their first regular season road trip, the apartment was dark. It was past two in the morning, and Sarah had a therapy appointment at eight, so she hadn't waited up for him. 

In his trek through the apartment, he paused by the dining room table. Until Sarah moved in, walking into the apartment after a road trip was often the worst part of the whole thing. He was always glad to be back in his own bed, but nothing seemed to exasperate his singleness more than coming home. Not only was he going from being surrounded by the team to being totally alone, he was coming home to an empty house. The combination of the two felt stiflingly lonely.

The mess of textbooks, highlighters, and notebooks left out on the dining room table was such proof of someone else living in the house, it made his chest feel full. 

In a spur of the moment act, he snapped a picture of the dimly lit chaos and posted it to his Instagram stories. No caption, no explanation. Just the simple proof that he wasn't alone.  

“Why did you put a picture of my books on your instagram?” she asked the next day after getting home from her appointment. 

He shrugged, “I liked it.”

The season before, anytime she would study at his house, she would clean everything up, organizing it all back into her bag before going home or coming to bed. 

Now, her books often stayed out on the dining room table on weekends. He offered to convert one of the spare bedrooms into an office for her, or let her use the office he had a computer in now, but she turned him down. 

“I like studying out here,” she'd said, glancing up to look out of the windows. “If it bothers you, I can put everything away.” 

“It doesn't bother me,” he'd said, leaning down to kiss her temple. “I just want you to be comfortable here.” 

She had beamed at him and turned her head to brush her mouth over his. 

5. 

Quinn waited until the one year anniversary of the day he and Sarah met to officially announce their relationship. 

He knew by that time that they could go the distance. He'd seen her through every month and every season and saw no major red flags. Not to mention the fact that everyone in his life liked her, and her family and friends seemed to like him.

Over the course of the year, he'd moved pictures he liked of Sarah and pictures he liked of them together into a favorites album he simply called S. So, in late January, he put together a post and sent it to his PR rep to look over. After they sent it back with some edits, he showed it to Sarah. 

Sarah, who for her part, knew this was coming but wasn’t quite sure what to expect, was taken a bit off guard. She knew Quinn read a lot and was thoughtful with his words, but reading his simple summary of their relationship made her melt. 

He’d included 5 pictures of her that were interspersed with 5 pictures of them together. The first photo was that perfect, golden hour sunset selfie. The rest were all photos she knew he loved. She’d seen some of them, and some of them, she hadn’t. There was a candid shot of her laughing with Jack and Luke that she hadn’t seen before as well as a picture she never knew he’d taken of her sitting at the dining room table with her laptop, looking pensively at the screen, fingers poised to type. There was the photo of them in front of their Christmas tree, and one of them laughing so hard, they were falling all over each other on a beach in Hawaii.

Under the photos, he’d simply written, The best year. and tagged her in the final photo - the dreamy picture Kaitlyn had taken of them under the mistletoe. 

“Quinn,” she breathed, looking up to find him smiling expectantly at her.

“You like it?” he asked. 

“I really like it,” she said, fighting back the tears that pushed at her eyes. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

He was ready for the world to know that not only was he taken, he was taken with her, and not afraid to say it, but he knew it would likely open up another door of criticism she’d never been exposed to before. 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’m ready.” 

The fact that Quinn wanted the world to know, without a doubt, that she was the one he was with made her heart race. 

They didn’t have to hide anymore. To her, it was the last, final cementing block in their relationship. It spoke of his faith in their future and his dedication to staying with her. He wouldn't put it out for the world to see if he had any doubts. 

He posted it right before practice two days later so he could work the anxiety of it off. 

When he got back to his locker an hour and a half later, he had 1,654 likes and over 200 comments. At first glance, they all seemed positive. Not that what random strangers thought of him meant much, but it was nice to know his fans were happy he was happy. 

Bonus scene: 

On the afternoon of the anniversary of their one year of meeting, Reece stopped Sarah as she walked into the building after work.

“I’ve got a delivery for you, Ms. Roberts,” he said, walking with her over to the security desk. 

Before he’d even picked them up, Sarah knew it must be the large bouquet of flowers that were an absolute riot of color - purple and yellow, red and pink, white and green. 

Quinn was out of town - playing in Toronto at that very moment, in fact - and she knew he must have sent them in place of being there in person. 

“Thank you, Reece,” she said, accepting the flowers and a card from him before heading upstairs. 

Trying to manage the vase, card, and her school bag, as well as press the button in the elevator, resulted in her accidentally slopping a large amount of water down her front. Thankfully, the large bouquet hid the spill from anyone else in the elevator, and she was the only one to get off on the top floor. Upon entering the apartment, she set the vase and card on the bar and went straight up to change. 

It wasn’t until she wandered down to make dinner during the second intermission and saw the bright flowers that she remembered the card. 

Her full name was on the envelope in someone else’s writing, and the front of the card was completely blank, so when she flipped it open, she was surprised to find Quinn’s handwriting filling most of it. 

It’s been one year since I took refuge in the aquarium, only to stumble upon a beautiful woman giving a talk about octopus and took the chance to ask her out. Back then, I just thought she was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen. Now I know that not only is she beautiful, she’s smart, kind, supportive and so driven she inspires me to do better. I don’t like to think what my life would be like if she’d turned down my offer for lunch, or I didn’t get up the guts to talk to her. This time with her has been a whirlwind and the best year of my life. 

I wrote this for the caption of the post that went up today, then realized the only person I really wanted to read it was you. 

Happy one year of meeting, Sarah. I’m so glad you took a chance and went out with me even though I was more than a little awkward. 

I love you. 

Love, 

Quinn 

Moved to tears by his thoughtful words, Sarah snapped a picture of the flowers to put up on her stories, adding the caption, Love you, @_quinnhughes, before texting him.

I love you. I can’t believe it’s been a year. Here’s to a million more.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Naughty or Nice?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: smut, fem!receiving

Summary: This year, you’re going to ask Santa for something only you have been able to give you thus far. Orgasms.

Square Filled: Christmas (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Normally, the mall is a place you and your friends avoid during the holiday season, but you heard that they were hosting auditions for Santa this year. Rumor has it, that someone super attractive got it. Again, you’re not one to go man-hunting at a crowded mall with children and families running everywhere, but here you are.

Your dating life hasn’t been all that great. It mostly consists of hookups and one-night stands that can never get you to orgasm. Only your pink ice cream clit vibrator has ever been able to do the job, so you’re hoping to come here and maybe meet a willing Santa to take home. Maybe if you sit on his lap and wish for orgasms, he’ll be inclined to give you one.

It’s worth a shot.

“I can’t believe you’re going to do this,” your friend, Beth, says.

“What? Men who audition for Santa usually aren’t men from this town. They’re all married and they don’t want to take the joy away from their kids. Whoever it is, is from out of town, which means he can be hot, single, and eager for a hookup.”

“I thought you were done with those.”

“No, I am done with hookups from men who only think about themselves. I’ll be able to take one look at this Santa and know if he can jingle my bells if you know what I mean.”

Beth laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t think parents would allow their children to sit on a sexy man’s lap.”

“Only one way to find out. Come on.”

The area where kids are meeting Santa is already crowded with families, and the line is already three stores down from the start. When Dean heard about the Santa auditions, he put in his name when he was drunk. What harm would it do if he decided to be Santa for a night? On one hand, he can make a lot of children’s days by being Santa. On the other hand, he could meet a kid’s single mom or their sexy aunt and take them home. It’s a win-win.

“Okay, I thought you were joking before, but you’re really going to do this?” Sam asks his brother.

Dean pulls on the red coat and smirks at his brother. “Hot chicks, Sammy.”

“Kids, Dean.”

Dean shrugs. “It comes with the job. Just go find something to do. This shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

“You’re relentless.”

“Dedicated, Sam,” Dean smirks.

Sam rolls his eyes and leaves the room. He decides to head back to the motel room instead of sticking around. Dean finishes getting ready and walks out with one of the mall coordinators. As soon as the kids see him, they cheer at the thought of being with Santa even for a minute. He stays true to his character and plays the best Santa he can be for the kids also while looking out for anyone single and willing to go home with him.

“Looks to me like he’s a regular guy,” Beth says to you as you inch closer to the front of the line.

“Beth, you are married so I don’t expect you to see this but I caught a glimpse of him as he was putting his costume on. I think he was carved by the Gods themselves.”

“You’re relentless,” she rolls her eyes.

“What? I am just trying to participate in Christmas traditions.”

“You don’t even have any kids.”

“I’m practicing…?”

“By asking Santa for,” she lowers her voice to a whisper, “orgasms?”

“Yes.”

Beth laughs, and you get closer to the front of the line. Dean takes a picture with one of the little girls who just asked for a pony when he locks eyes with you. For just a few seconds, it’s like time has slowed down just for the two of you. Even from where you’re standing, you can see how green his eyes are.

“Next!” the mall attendant yells.

“Good luck,” Beth whispers and steps off to the side where the parents wait.

The mall attendant gives you a weird look, especially when you step up on the platform where Dean is. She doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it even though you’re getting some dirty looks from parents in line.

“Well, who do we have here? What’s your name?” Dean drawls when you sit on his lap.

“Y/N.”

“And have you been a good girl this year?”

You smirk when you hear the double meaning in his words.

“Oh, I’ve been a very bad girl.”

Dean’s eyes darken. “You know the deal. Bad girls don’t get presents.”

“Might you make an exception?”

He licks his lips, and you can’t help but watch his tongue. “I might. Depends on what you want.”

You lean in so that your mouth is close to your ear. You don’t need everyone in the mall to hear this.

“Orgasms.”

“Bad girl or not, I think I can help with that.”

“I’d hope you would,” you grin.

“Meet me after in front of Barnes and Noble.”

You forgo the picture and leave to give the kids what they came here for. Dean shifts in his seat to hide the erection you gave him. He’s not trying to scar any children or piss off any parents.

“Did you ask him?” Beth asks when you walk away from the place.

“Yes. God, he was so much more attractive up close. He was so… firm. I’m going to meet him after he’s done. Thank you for coming with me.”

“Anytime. I have to get back to Jared. He already started drinking eggnog without me.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know how it goes,” you wink.

You wait anxiously in front of Barnes and Noble until the very last child has had her turn with Santa. The more you’re by yourself, the more you psych yourself out. Was this a good idea? You don’t even know the man. He could be a murderer for all you know. Okay, maybe not that but he could have dark secrets in his closet.

Before you can convince yourself to leave, a man who you believe is Santa walks over to you wearing flannel, jeans, and a black jacket.

“So, have you decided if you want to be naughty or nice?”

“Whichever is more fun,” you grin.

“Naughty it is.” He holds his hand out and you take it. “I’m Dean.”

“Y/N, but you already know that.”

He even has a hot car. Once you see the shiny black Impala, you decide you’re going to milk Dean for everything he’s got before he leaves. He might very well be the best one-night stand you’ll ever have.

Dean takes you back to his motel room where Sam is reading a lore book. He looks up when the door opens, and he shakes his head when he sees his brother isn’t alone.

“Out, Sammy.”

“Dude.”

“Would you rather watch me fuck her?”

“That’s something I’m not opposed to if you’re into that sort of thing,” you say.

“No, thanks,” Sam pouts. “I’m going to get a room far from yours.”

As soon as Sam leaves, Dean pulls you into him and presses light kisses down your neck.

“So, are you going to unwrap me?”

“Damn right, I am, and I’m going to take all night to do it.” Dean lays you down on the bed and runs his hands down your legs. “Are you wet for me?”

“Undress me and find out.”

Dean practically rips your clothes away, and you don’t even think about needing them tomorrow at the moment. All you want right now is his mouth and fingers on you. Dean cups your pussy and runs two fingers through your slit to confirm that yes, you are wet and ready for him. He falls to his knees and you spread your legs open wide for him.

He grips your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed before burying his face between your legs. Some of the men you’ve been with hated going down on you, so you haven’t had a man down there in a while. Just the simple act of Dean sliding his tongue through your folds is enough to bring a squeal out of you.

“Fuck, Dean, that feels so good,” you moan and grab his hair.

“Good. I’m not stopping until you’re dripping down my chin.”

Dean massaged your clit with his tongue before sliding down to your entrance. He tongues you rapidly while rubbing your clit with his thumb. You can’t come unless your clit is stimulated, but you honestly think Dean could just lick you and you’d explode for him. Maybe you’ll test that theory later tonight when you go for another round. Dean is the kind of man you go multiple rounds with.

“Shit, Dean, that feels so good. I’m gonna come.”

“Come all over my face.”

You don’t wait another second before exploding around his tongue, and he laps up every drop you’re giving him.

“God, you taste like Heaven,” Dean moans.

He kisses your clit once before standing up. You stand and kiss him even though you can taste yourself on his lips. You undress him until you’re both naked, and he turns you so that you’re facing the bed. He gently pushes down on your back until you’re on your hands and knees, and he grips your hips and tugs you hard enough for you to lose your balance. You fall face first on the bed with your ass in the air, just how he wants you.

He grabs the base of his cock and squeezes to prevent his release from coming too soon. He pumps twice before sliding the head of his cock between your pussy lips.

“Dean, skip the formalities. Please, fuck me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

He grabs both sides of your hips and slides into your pussy slowly so that you can feel every inch. You gasp from the stretch but he doesn’t stop until you’re completely full of him. You grip the sheets and push back into him as much as you can from your position. Dean pulls out only to slam back in, and you can’t help the loud moan from coming out.

“Fuck, Y/N, how are you so tight?”

“You feel so good, Dean,” you moan.

Thankfully Sam isn’t next door or else he’d hear the sound of skin slapping against skin and your beautiful moans.

“Rub your clit for me, baby. Get yourself closer to the edge. I want to come with you.”

You reach down and rub your clit in fast hard circles. It’s been so long that you’re approaching the edge faster than you’d thought you would.

“Fuck, Dean, I’m close again.”

“Come all over my cock.”

You do as he says and explode all around him. You squeeze his cock several times which brings Dean over the edge. He slows his thrusting to ride out both of your highs until neither of you can give anything more. He pulls out of you and falls onto the bed next to you.

“I hope you’ve got more than one round in you.”

He smirks. “Baby, I can go all night.”

You love Christmas time.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[choccy-milky]

Okay so I read your entire fic in three days and I LOVE IT!? ITS SO GOOD!?! I am supposed to be studying for finals and instead have spent 72 hours definitely not doing that. I originally got into your fic because I saw your drawings from different scenes and OH MY GOD THEYRE AMAZING. The way you draw Seb makes me want to bang my head on the table (in the best way ever)…that boy does things to me. The whole thing is just uGHHH chefs kiss amazing work love it love you amazing

AWW TYY IM GLAD YOU LIKED IT SM (ENOUGH TO BINGE IT AND IGNORE SCHOOL) AND THAT YOU LIKE HOW I DRAW SEB TOO💖💖😍😍😍

LMAOO but fr as a procrastinator and horrible student myself, im pleased with this theme of interfering with ppls schoolwork/thesis/whatever else to read my fic...im dragging yall down with me...just stop using your brain and enjoy sexy seb aha😜 (ILY TOO GOOD LUCK ON UR FINALS)

@jstfndmthngs omg thank you for such a long and in depth ask i hope u dont mind i just screenshotted it and cut it into 2 BAHAHA but THANK YOUU im glad youre enjoying it so far!! 🥹💖AND YESSS BAHAHA IVE ALSO BRAINWASHED YOU TO SEE SEB AND CLORA WHEN YOU SEE A BLONDE + BROWN HAIR COUPLE mission accomplished😈😈 and I LOVE THAT YOU DAYDREAM ABOUT SEB AND CLORA TOO!!! people thinking about your fic/art when theyre not actively reading it is the highest honour fr...😭🙏 AND BAHAHA I REMEMBER THAT COMMENT THREAD ABOUT LEANDER AND HIS LITTLE GARDEN PATCH LMAO and him and seb competing as neighbors/dads over who has the better yard...LMAO im putting in my oneshot that leander lives close by, i might try and find a way to allude to that if i can LMAOO speaking of IM GLAD YOURE LOOKING FORWARD TO THE ONESHOT 💖💖 ive been working on the outline every day the past few days and its 24k words AND THATS JUST THE OUTLINE😭😭LIKE DAWG i was planning on this oneshot to just be short and sweet BAHAHA but i forgot im fluent in yappanese...then i just kept thinking of cute pregnancy moments i wanted to add so it spiralled....BUT ANYWAY I HOPE I CAN FINISH IT SOON!!🙏 also im so impressed you only read 1 chap of my fic a day BAHAHA i admire the self restraint bc i could never...but i feel you with wanting to make things last. LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU CATCH UP!!🥳AND TY AGAIN!!💖💖

omg anon this is diabolical...at first i was imagining it as seb being the one caught in the time loop and going crazy, but i actually think its better if its clora... because the idea of seb watching her slowly spiral into semi-insanity while knowing its bc of some weird time shenanigans and he doesnt know how to help would also make SEB go crazy BAHAHAH. i dont think ill ever write this but i just wanted to tell u i love this idea LOL

aw TYYYYY!!! i’m honoured u think so omg😭🥹💖 you sent this a while ago (before all of the recent family posting ive been doing) BAHAHA so i hope youre enjoying the kid content bc u manifested it girl🥰 and trust me i aint doing work for the fandom, the fandom is doing work for ME!!! by continuing to humour my brainrotted ass😔🙏

"they're my legal parents now" followed by "so anyway can you draw them going down on each other" LMFAOOOOO💀💀💀thank you i love you anon. and i HAVE been wanting to draw this for a while so YES!! i just cant guarantee when...but the day SHALL come rest assured🫡😇

[spiderb00]

CINDY LOU WHO

Daniela Avanzini X Reader 

“You didn't think about the consequences of your actions, and consequently, you didn't think about how Daniela's heart would be after all this” 

Genre – angst as fuck Warnings – Reader is an asshole 

fruitcake masterlist

Now playing – Cindy lou who, by Sabrina Carpenter 

Daniela was paralyzed, sitting on a bench in the park with her phone in her hand. The phone screen displayed a photo, which a news Instagram had posted, the image was clear, probably taken by a professional camera of some photographer. The first photo showed you and your ex Jenna Ortega, walking hand in hand on the streets of New York, laughing at something very funny, and for a moment, Daniela was afraid to scroll to the next photo.   

Taking a deep breath, the Latina ran her finger over the screen, her breath getting caught in her ribcage and her world slowly collapsing. You and Jenna, kissing, near the various Christmas decorations, which were now making Daniela nauseous. Tears began to well up in the blonde's eyes, and she wanted to throw her phone into the water fountain that was in front of her.   

A month ago, you and Daniela had fallen apart. No matter how hard the Latina tried, she thought she would never make you happy like your ex, but that didn't stop her from trying.   

"Where are you going?" Daniela asked, holding the sheet on her chest, leaning on her elbow and looking at you wearing your clothes. 

"I'm going home, I mean, your friends are coming and I have to work tomorrow." You said, buttoning your pants and sitting on the bed to tie the shoelaces of your sneakers.  

With a slightly worried look, Daniela sat down lightly, crawling to the corner of the bed where you were sitting, letting the sheet fall the Latina hugged your waist, putting her chin on your shoulder.   

"You don't have to go, Manon is at her girlfriend's house, and the girls don't mind having you here. I don't have work tomorrow, you can stay and I can make you breakfast." Daniela said, starting to get excited about the idea of you spending the night.   

"Dani, don't make this what it isn't." You said, letting go of the younger woman's grip and getting up to get your jacket. "You know this is not a relationship."  

 "What? Is it bad that I want to do something for you?" Daniela replies, you could tell she was about to cry with your words.  

"You already do enough." You said, still without looking at her.  

"Oh yes. I let you fuck me, sure, how did I not think of that before?" Daniela said, her cutting voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know what, it was a mistake to call you tonight." The Latina stood up, wearing the clothes you had taken off a few hours ago. 

"What's wrong with you? We both agreed that this would be just casual sex." You said, approaching Daniela, only for the shorter woman to move away from you.   

"No, you decided that on your own. You know what, you can come to me when you want to stop using me." Daniela said, throwing your car keys on your chest, walking towards the bedroom door and opening for you, a silent request to leave her alone.  

With a snort, you shook your head negatively, staring incredulously at the Latina in front of you, before passing her and heading away. 

Daniela didn't know what she had done wrong, she didn't know why you loved Jenna, why you went public with Jenna, why you had a relationship with Jenna, while you hadn't done any of that with her. The Latina felt lost, the red and green lights were now all blue, just like her.   

After the incident, you and Daniela had exchanged some messages, she had fallen again, asking you to come to her house and forget about all that fight. She didn't care if you weren't going to stay afterwards, she just wanted to feel your warmth one last time. She remembered the messages, it all seemed so vivid in her mind.   

You refused to go to her that night, you said you were discovering yourself, searching for your soul, going after your way, you told her you were getting lost in Los Angeles. Now she understands why you were so happy, you found yourself.   

Looking at the photo once again made Daniela want to throw up, the Latina's stomach churning in a bad way, and she thought it best to lock her phone screen before she had a public crisis. Feeling a hand on her shoulder, the Latina looked over her shoulder, seeing Sophia's hand and the rest of the Kats standing behind her with looks of compassion. And when the tears began to run down her eyes, Daniela thought it best to get up and go to the car.  

"'is the season, i guess." 

That's kind of small because I hate writing angst, but I found it interesting.

I think this is my first fic that doesn't have a happy ending. I'm sad for Daniela, but the requests I have for her are very cute, so they will make up for it.

xoxo, spider.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy and Lucy meet a man dangerous enough to frighten them both, and Lizzie reaches a breaking point.

Word Count: 6,543

Warnings: Smut, polyamory, chronic pain, references to violence, past torture, and past sexual assault.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: Selfish

“Lizzie is going to be mad about that for a good long while,” Lucy commented, one hand stuffed into her trousers pocket while the other flicked ash from her cigarette down onto the cobblestones. Her eyes swiveled around, taking in the ash, flames, and glowing embers being emitted into the air by the nearby factories. All around them was the bustle of men and women going about their business, children with dirtied faces and knees marked up with scrapes and soot racing through the streets together. She dropped a few shillings into the cup of a young girl who wandered past them. 

The train station that they were headed to wasn’t particularly far, and it was good for the people to see Tommy out amongst them, walking to work and taking the train like any other ordinary working man. So when they could, they made the trek to the train on foot. 

She didn’t mind. It was nice to get out into the familiar smoky air, settled like a black cloud over most of Birmingham. Despite everything, it still felt like it was where she most belonged. In the dirt and flames of hell. 

Though it did mean that they had to keep a professional distance from each other. No hand holding or letting their sides brush and bump. They couldn’t risk looking suspiciously close. Not even in Tommy’s own kingdom of Small Heath.

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed heavily. “But what else is fucking new?”

She cast him a regretful look. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why? You didn’t even do anything.”

“It always feels like I’m the root cause of most of her anger towards you.”

“No; you’re not.” She felt him casting her a worried look. “It’s not your fault.”

She didn’t tell him that she didn’t believe that. It would only upset him. And he didn’t need to be worrying about her feelings on top of everything else already on his plate.  

“She’s mad because you tell me things that you don’t tell her.”

“Which isn’t fucking new. That’s always how things have been. If she’s only realizing that now…”

“I think she’s more upset about it being thrown in her face than anything else.”

He shook his head, teeth grinding together. “I’m going to cuff Finn the next time I see him. Jesus Christ.”

“Arthur’s right about him needing educating. The kid can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life.” As she spoke, she rolled her right shoulder back and forth, trying to ease the twinge that had settled in it. Tommy huffed. 

“Yeah. I’ll put him in charge of running the football betting at the shop. Give him something productive to do.”

“Have Isiah keep an eye on him. They’re friends, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

Tommy nodded. They caught the train just before it left the station, slipping into an empty compartment and closing the door, drawing down the blind that covered the window on the door, hiding them from any curious eyes that may have tried to peek in from the narrow hallway.

“May called earlier. She said that she was at a party that a couple other MPs were attending recently. One of them was asking about you,” Lucy settled into her seat, the train whistling shrilly before starting to move, steadily picking up speed as it pulled out from the station. 

“Oh?”

“Oswald Mosley. He’s the MP for Smethwick. Also the Minister of the Duchy of Lancaster,” she fiddled with her rings, twisting them anxiously around her fingers. “May had…a lot of bad things to say about him.” Another throb of pain rocketed from the bottom of her shoulder blades up to the base of her neck, and she had to fight back a flinch. Fucking Luca. Dead and long gone, and yet still haunting her through the aches and pains that the torture he had put through had left. 

Just like Matthew, her former fiancé and the man who instigated the gang rape that left her nearly dead and fleeing to Small Heath to escape marrying him. He too lingered with her still–despite his deceased status–through the scars he and his friends had left all over her body.

I’m part of you forever, now, his and Luca’s voices, mingled into one, whispered inside her head where they now lived. 

“Lucy?” Tommy’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, his hand lightly touching her arm. She jumped a little, jerking back to life, eyes wide when they met his. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry. Just thinking. What did you say?”

His eyes narrowed a fraction, and she was pretty sure that he sensed the slight waver in her voice that she attempted to cover up. But he must have decided not to comment on it if he did. 

“What does Mosley want with me?” He instead repeated patiently. 

“He didn’t exactly say. But May said that he was asking an awful lot about your moral standings on things. She thought that he might’ve been trying to feel out if you would be amiable to joining the new party he’s rumored to be building.”

“The fascists, you mean?”

“Yeah.” They had been sprouting up everywhere it seemed, lately. Germany. Italy. Even in England. It was spooky. “I could do some more research into him, if you think that it would be worth it.”

Tommy considered for a moment, blue eyes glancing out the window to observe the countryside they were whizzing by. “Yes, you do that. He’s gathering information about me, it would only be fair to return the favor.”

She nodded, a hand unconsciously going up to grasp at her still aching shoulder, trying to rub away some of the pain. But she never could seem to get the right angle…

“Are your shoulders bothering you?”

She looked up to find Tommy still watching her, observant eyes zoned in on where her fingers were subtly kneading. With a sigh, she dropped her hand, rolling the aching bone and muscle back and forth with a wince. There was no use trying to lie to him. 

“A little.” 

His head cocked, pushing up with his hands off the seat he was slumped in across from her to instead settle in the space next to her. “Here.”

“Tommy…!” she immediately started to protest, eyes going panickedly to the blinds covering the window of the door leading into their compartment. 

“Don’t worry. No one will see with the blinds closed. And we’re just passing country right now,” he nodded towards the window, which sure enough was only displaying green fields and farmland. “Let me help. If you don’t do anything for them, they’ll be killing you by this evening.”

Spoken from true experience. He’d seen her when the pain got really bad, leaving her unable to sleep or do anything other than cry and writhe, as if trying to get away from the pains wracking through nearly her entire upper back. 

Slumping in defeat, she nodded, turning to angle herself with her back facing him. His large hands found her shoulders, so big they nearly swallowed the entire expanse of each one in his palms–or maybe she was just that tiny. A small sigh of relief left her lips when he began rubbing gentle but firm circles into her skin, just like how the doctor had instructed him to when explaining ways to help reduce her pain. Slowly, he started to urge the tensed up muscles to relax enough to give her some relief. 

“Did you not do your stretches yesterday?” he asked. Lucy shook her head. 

“Forgot.”

She was supposed to do them everyday, to avoid things like this happening so frequently. But in all the chaos yesterday, they’d completely slipped her mind. And sleeping on the hard earth with nothing but Tommy to use as a pillow probably hadn’t helped things.  

“Hm. Sorry; I should’ve reminded you.”

“Not your fault.”

He pressed his fingers a little harder into her skin. “How’s that feeling?”

“Better.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Just try to relax.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

“You want me to stop?”

“...No.”

He chuckled, the first real laugh she’d heard from him since before yesterday, and rested his cheek against her hair while his hands continued to work. Lucy allowed herself to melt a little under his touch, for a moment not worrying about them getting caught together, or about Lizzie, or Michael, or the company. She was able to just rest. Even if only for a moment. All the while Tommy gently rubbed the pain from her body.

∗ ∗ ∗  

She so did love to watch Tommy speak in the house. 

He stood there, amidst the smoke emitting from cigarettes and pipes, glasses perched on his nose, notes held in his hand, his voice ringing out, deep and rumbling. Pretty, eloquent words. He had them all in the palm of his hand and he knew it, the men seated in the benches around him, and those in the observation area with her all clinging to his every word. And when he was finished, those on his side of the room cheered and rapped their hands approvingly against the wood of their benches, the entire room thundering with the sound. 

Lucy couldn’t help but think that the room looked like a theater. 

Who were they performing for? Themselves? Each other? The people in the observation booths? All of them at once? It was hard to say. 

She spotted him seated to Tommy’s right–her left. In the row below Tommy’s, the third man in from the aisle. His dark hair was slicked back, the mustache that decorated his upper lip meticulously groomed. One side of his lips pulled up at something Tommy said, his eyes gleaming. Lucy felt a shiver go down her spine. Humor may have been what was intended to cross his face, but those eyes of his were dead. No emotion to be found in them at all. They remained focused straight ahead as Tommy spoke, except for one specific, notable moment, when they flickered towards the observational benches where she, along with some secretaries, journalists, and other observers, sat to watch the men speak. Lucy swore that for a second their eyes met, before she hastily looked away from him and back to Tommy. Her skin crawled, the fine, fair hairs on the back of her arms standing up straight. Her very insides seemed to recoil, every instinct within her screaming to get up and run as far away from that man as she could possibly get. 

She kept her eyes glued firmly at Tommy for the reminder of the time spent in the house, despite originally going there specifically to observe Mosley.

She felt that she’d gotten all the information that she needed to about what kind of person he was from just that quick glance alone. 

Soon as they were done, she stood, gathering up her notes, tucking them securely in the crook of her arm and making for the exit where she would meet Tommy out in the hall. 

“How did I do?” he asked, once he found her standing at the usual spot where she always waited for him. Lucy caught herself wishing desperately that she could have pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Splendid as always, love.”

He looked away, lips twitching up slightly, clearing his throat bashfully. “Come on.”

Lucy smiled a little to herself at the reaction, falling into step beside him, heading in the direction of their office.  

“Did you get what you needed?” he asked, as they walked.

“Sort of.”

His brow raised. “Sort of?” he quoted back to her.

“I don’t like looking at him,” she explained in a lowered voice. “He makes my skin crawl.”

“Mm.” Tommy hummed in agreement. 

“Lord Suckerby’s secretary said you’re welcome to come by anytime between now and the end of the day to see him,” she told him just as they were interrupted by a voice calling his name from one of the open doors they passed.

They stopped, turned, and were met face to face with Oswald Mosley, a barbed smile sliding into place across his features as those empty eyes bored into Tommy. Lucy’s skin roiled in response to his posh, clipped voice when he spoke, introducing himself and holding out a hand for Tommy to shake. His sly smile never once ceased, eyes never leaving Tommy’s as he took his hand and shook it firmly. 

“Let me just say, you’ve come to my attention,” the words were spoken in a croon, with the smallest of head tilts. Lucy couldn’t fully decide if the intended effect was supposed to be predatory, or seductive. 

Before Tommy could reply. Mosley’s eyes had snapped, sharp and quick, like a snake striking, to fix on Lucy. She had to fight back the urge to hide behind her lover’s back. The expression on Mosley’s face turned wolfish. 

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” She felt Tommy tense beside her at Mosley’s words. “Oswald Mosley,” he extended his hand towards her. Lucy felt ill at the thought of touching him, but forced herself to reach out and take his hand. It was cold as ice and dry as a bone.

“Lucy Winters,” she introduced herself, shaking Mosley’s hand once before letting it go, pushing away the urge to wipe her palm on her trousers. “I’m Mr. Shelby’s assistant.” 

Mosley’s eyes darted between them, one eyebrow quirking upwards, a smirk settling on his lips. “Hm. Lucky you, Mr. Shelby.” 

“If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Mosley, we have to get going.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But if you aren’t too busy, I would love the opportunity to speak with you more. Perhaps over drinks?”

Tommy considered. “You can call my office,” was all he ultimately said, hastily turning on his heel and starting down the hall again. Lucy hurried after him, not wanting to be left alone with Mosley. 

“You’re really going to meet with him?” she asked, once they were far enough away to be out of ear shot. 

“Just to hear what he has to say.” He looked over at her. “Don’t worry, I’m not sympathetic to his cause. But keep your enemies closer, eh?”

“Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder, half expecting Mosley to appear spontaneously behind them. “He scares me a little, Tommy.” Her voice was a rough whisper, half ashamed at the omission. 

“Me too.”

That got her attention, and when she looked at Tommy, she noticed something almost unsteady under the guarded armor he kept carefully in place across his eyes. Fear squeezed at her throat. 

A man who was bad enough to make Tommy so frightened was something she hadn’t even thought existed.

“You head on back to the office,” he said, changing the subject with a small clearing of his throat. “I think I’ll go see Lord Suckerby now.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?” He shook his head. “I think it’ll make a stronger impression if I go see him alone.”

“You think he’ll give you any trouble?”

“Maybe. Depends on how hard he was hit by the crash.”

She frowned. She hadn’t really thought about that. Though she probably should have. “Everyone was hit by the crash.”

“Yeah.”

“If Suckerby can’t pay us…”

“He will. I’m not giving him any other choice.”

She pressed her lips together in a small smile. “I’d like first crack at him, if it comes to it.”

Tommy shot her an amused look. “Oh, is that so?”

“After seeing those photos that he wanted us to get for him, there are a couple of things I’d very much like to do to him.”

During the train ride to London she had flipped through the small package of photographs, letters, and cheques that Isiah had handed off to her while they were in Birmingham. Everything he and Aberama had collected from the man they killed in Chinatown who had been using the contents of that package to blackmail Suckerby. Her stomach had roiled at the contents of some of them, bile rising.

Lord Suckerby was one disgusting man. Maybe after he paid them, an unfortunate accident could befall him. Like falling out a window or getting run over by a bus.  

Based on the thunderous, repulsed look that had crossed Tommy’s features when she showed him the photographs, Lucy thought he may very well be open to the idea. The envelope was now stashed safely in the inner pocket of her suit jacket, snug against her side. It would remain there until Suckerby paid what he owed them for their services.

“Alright,” Tommy said, eyes still dancing with fond, quiet mirth. “He doesn’t corporate, he’s all yours.”

She beamed, only just managing to restrain herself from throwing her arms around his neck, stretching up on toes, and planting a firm kiss to his temple that would have left his fair skin stained with red smudges from her lipstick. “Thank you, Tommy,” she said instead, adding what she hoped came across as a playful, affectionate lilt to her voice. He glanced over at her, one edge of his lips nudging upwards, eyes softening. 

They came to a hallway splitting off into two separate directions. This was where they parted ways. Her, turning left to head to their office, him, heading right, towards where Lord Suckerby’s offices were located. 

“I’ll see you soon?”

He nodded. “This won’t take long.”

“I’ll phone his office when I get in and let them know you’re coming. So they’ll be expecting you.”

“Right.”

“And then you have a few more meetings this afternoon.”

“Mm.” He lowered his voice. “I thought that we’d stay at the apartment for the night, rather than go back to Arrow House.”

“That probably would be a good idea. It’d give Lizzie some time to cool down.”

“Exactly.” 

She nodded, moving to head in the direction leading to their office. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

She walked backwards a few paces, fondly watching his broad back disappear around the corner before turning and making her way the rest of the short walk back to the little corner of Parliament that they presided over. 

∗ ∗ ∗

She had not been back in the office long when Tommy returned, heavy footed steps booming against the floor and swiping his fringe from his eyes. 

“How did it go?” Lucy asked, looking up from her desk.

“By the time I left the room, he was screaming my name,” he thumbed a cigarette from his silver case. Lucy raised an eyebrow.

“Is that a euphemism?”

Tommy snorted, plucking out a second cigarette to hand to her. “He only had twenty thousand to give to us.”

“Really?” That wasn’t even half of the fifty thousand pounds they’d agreed upon. She placed her cigarette between her lips and leaned forward towards the flame of his lighter when he held it up for her. “Does that mean I get to play with him now?”

Tommy chuckled, raising the lighter to his own cigarette before closing it with a click. “Easy, girl. I gave him until Monday to get us the full amount.”  

She pouted a little, leaning back into her chair. “You’re going soft, Shelby.”  

“No,” Tommy’s eyes danced amusedly. He reached out, brushing his thumb down her cheek. It was a risky move, since anyone could walk through the door at any moment, but she didn’t pull her face away from the tender touch. “I just want my fifty thousand pounds.”

“Mm. Whatever you say, love.”

His thumb inched into dangerous territory, ghosting over her bottom lip. She aimed a playful nip at it, and he drew his hand back with a grin. 

“Cheeky mare.”

Lucy smiled at him, batting her eyelashes innocently in an ‘I’m-very-sure-I-don’t-know-what-you-mean’ kind of way. Though remnants of his smile lingered on his face and his eyes remained softened fondly, Tommy’s expression turned serious again.  

“Hey, make that research into Mosley top priority, yeah? I wanna be ready when I next see him.”

“Yes, boss.” She gave him a little two finger salute. The corner of his lips kicked up again.

“Thank you.” 

She watched him head through the double doors into his office, leaving them open behind him, a silent invitation for her to come keep him company if she wanted. Gathering up some of her papers, she rose from her chair to follow him. 

It was, after all, an invitation that she never passed up. 

∗ ∗ ∗  

It was dark by the time they started to pack up to leave for the day. Tommy had one final appointment, but Lucy figured she would get a head start on closing the office up while he spoke with the journalist from the London Times. She eyed Michael Levitt as Adam–Tommy’s other secretary at Westminster–led him into Tommy’s office, noting the nervous way that the journalist  kept fidgeting with his hat while he waited. A moment later, Adam came back out, casting an anxious look over his shoulder to where Levitt had taken a seat in front of Tommy’s desk. 

“Mr. Shelby said I was to go home,” he came over to her desk, keeping his voice lowered. She nodded.

“Then go home. I’ll take care of locking everything up.”

“Right.” 

She watched him gather up his things and head for the door, one ear focused on trying to overhear the mumbled voices of Tommy and Levitt. “See you tomorrow,” she told Adam.

“Goodnight,” he nodded. Soon as he was gone, she stood smoothly, snatching up the little journal perched on the corner of her desk and going to Tommy’s office. He had left the doors open, so she was able to slip in without so much as a sound, footsteps muffled against the rugs lining the floor. 

Levitt was visibly sweating, stuttering over his words. Lucy raised an eyebrow, going to where Tommy’s coat was hung up to his right behind his desk. She slipped the journal into the pocket, giving it a tap twice, watching out of the corner of her eye how Tommy’s gaze followed her. He gave a barely indiscernible nod in acknowledgement, and she spun on her heel and left the room, letting her eyes meet the timid Levitt’s for a second before turning her head away. 

She flitted around her and Adam’s office, putting things away and locking them up for safe keeping, even doing some tidying. The whole time, she listened closely to the words being murmured between Tommy and the journalist. At one point, not long before Levitt rushed from the room, she heard Tommy quoting directly from some of the notes she had written in the little journal during her time spent researching Levitt and his activities. 

Soon as he was gone, she locked the door behind him and went back to Tommy’s office. 

“I take it that could have gone better?” she moved to stand on his side of the desk, arms folded over her chest and back leaning against the hard wooden edge. Her head cocked as she watched him rub at his eyes. 

“He was asking about Campbell and Polly.”

“I heard. You want him to be taken care of?”

Tommy wetted his lips, considering. “Yes,” he decided. “Last thing we need is a reporter sniffing around.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t seem like the type that we could just pay off. I’ll have some of our boys handle it at his apartment in Maida Vale. Quick and clean.” 

“Have them do it with enough flourish that it’ll make other journalists nervous. To dissuade anyone else from trying anything for a while.”

“But not easily linked to us, right?”

“Right. And let’s just keep it between you and me. Last thing I need is more temper tantrums over my not sharing information.”

“Okay.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, reaching out to smooth his hand up and down her thigh. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

His arms looped around her, and she laughed quietly when he pulled her closer, his head tipping back to stare up at her, blue eyes wide and mischievous. 

“Adam went home?”

“Yes.”

“Hm…so it’s just us, then?”

Her fingers smoothed through his dark hair, fighting back a smirk. “Yes, it’s just us.”

With a purring sound from low in the back of his throat, he took hold of her hips and pulled her closer. 

“Tommy!” She laughed as he maneuvered her into his lap, as if this was not something they had done dozens of times before. As if she had not let him fuck her on top of his big desk the very first day they spent in the new office, her face burying in his shoulder with her teeth sinking into the thick fabric of his suit jacket to try to keep herself quiet while his cock pounded into her. 

He pushed open her suit jacket, popping free the first two buttons on her shirt and dipping his head to press his lips to the newly exposed skin. Wriggling in his lap, Lucy hissed at the feeling of his cock already hardening in his trousers, the material bulging against her. 

Tangling her hands in his hair, she tipped his head back enough to kiss him, moaning softly as his hands smoothed up her thighs, urging her to rock against him and fumbling with her belt. It was late, most people working in the building would have already gone home for the evening. But they still needed to be quiet. 

“Mm, did you lock the door?” Tommy asked in a low, rough murmur that went straight to her cunt, walls fluttering around nothing. The things he could do to her with just his voice alone were downright sinful. 

“Yes.”

He made a noise of approval that turned her legs to jelly. “Good,” he lifted her from his lap for a microsecond to slip her loosened trousers and knickers down, hand burning hot where it slid up her exposed thigh. “Always such a good girl for me.”

“A-ah…” her head lolled back, eyes rolling both at the praise and the first brush of his thick fingers across her entrance, circling lazily around her clit. 

“Gotta keep quiet, now,” he continued to mumble in her ear, breath warm where it fanned against her cheek. “Can you do that for me?”

She nodded vigorously. That was all she wanted; to be good for him. To make him happy. 

Turning his head, Tommy pressed a kiss to her temple and gingerly slipped one finger into her while his thumb occupied itself with rolling over her clit. He kept his movements careful and slow until he got her more warmed up, waiting until slickness coated his hand generously before adding a second finger and increasing the pace of his pumps. 

“There you go,” he hummed when he felt her start to flutter around him. “There you go, that’s a good girl…”

“Tom…” she whimpered, biting her lip to try to keep herself quiet, not wanting to disappoint him by letting any sounds slip out to be heard beyond this room.

“I know,” he soothed. “That’s my girl. Bite down on my shoulder if you need to.”

She did just that, nosing the material of his clothing aside to taste his bare skin between her lips. Tommy groaned, low and quiet but impossibly deep, at the first sting of her teeth against him. Her walls tightened, moments away from bursting. His fingers curled within her, pressing right into the spot that made her see stars.  

“Let go,” he ordered in a sweet whisper aimed directly into her ear, and she bit down hard to try to hinder what would have been an incredibly loud moan as her orgasm wrecked through her like a firecracker, bright lights exploding behind her eyes, entire body shuddering with it, pressing close to him instinctively.  

Tommy guided her through it, slowly coaxing her down from her high until she slumped against him.

“Good. Very good, sweetheart.”

She made a happy little noise at the praise, snuggling closer to his neck, nuzzling at the bitemark she’d left on him. Tommy stroked the back of her head, kissing her hair. Sneakily, she snaked a hand down between their bodies to palm the bulge in his trousers, and it was his turn to try to stifle his noises of pleasure, teeth locking down tight around the groan rising from his throat. 

Arms wrapping around her, he lifted her seemingly effortlessly off of his lap, setting her down on the edge of his desk while he stood, hands dropping down to fumble with his trousers. Lucy felt her mouth water at the sight of his long, impossibly thick erection bobbing against his stomach after being released from its confines. Tommy gave himself a few good, languid strokes, jaw dropping open as his eyelashes fluttered, face inches from hers. Lucy spread her legs wider, encouraging him in between them. Her hands grabbed at handfuls of his suit jacket while he lined himself up, sliding in with one deep thrust. 

“Oh,” Tommy rested his cheek against hers, hands flexing where they landed on her hip and thigh. 

“Quiet, remember?” she teased slightly, trailing her fingertips through his hair. He shivered, letting out a breathless chuckle followed by a kiss to her cheek. Burying his face in her neck, hands bracing on her body, he started to move. She could tell that he was trying to start out slow and give her time to adjust to his considerable size, but all it took was her purposefully squeezing around his cock and wrapping her legs around his waist, and his efforts went up in smoke. 

He bucked into her like a man possessed, low grunts muffled against her throat, a few trinkets rattling on the desk from the force of his thrusts. Lucy tucked her face back in against his shoulder, biting down hard on her bottom lip to try to contain her whimpers and moans as his swollen tip rubbed right up against her g-spot with each roll of his hips. 

“Shit. Squeezing me so tight, love,” Tommy rasped out, hand slipping between their bodies to rub at her clit. “Give me another one, yeah? I know you can, sweetheart.”

“Mm…” Her back arched, pressing her clothed breasts into his chest. Her legs tightened around him, and her jaw clenched with the effort it was taking for her not to let the volume of her noises get too high. His cock twitched and throbbed inside her, in the way that she knew meant his orgasm was imminent. The pleasure built like steam rising in a kettle, tension mounting until she felt moments away from bursting. Her walls spasmed uncontrollably around him, as if wanting to keep him locked in place within her for all eternity. Tommy hitched her thigh up a little higher on his hip, allowing his cock to get just that much deeper into her, and applied more pressure to her clit with his thumb. 

She came at the same moment that she managed to grab his face and bring his mouth crashing down onto hers, each of them swallowing what would have been massive moans as they both came fantastically. Her walls clamped down around him, insides fluttering with the force with which she came. Tommy’s chest vibrated under her palms with his growl as he finished, grinding his tip in as deep as he could go while spurting jets of seed into her. 

Lucy released a blissful sigh, closing her eyes and riding out the waves of her climax while basking in the feeling of him spilling his load into her. 

Tommy slumped forwards against her, face nestling in the crook of her shoulder, lips pressing to her neck delicately whilst he relaxed. His arms wound around her in a warm embrace, a quiet purr leaving his chest when she stroked the back of his head. 

“We should go,” Lucy finally broke the silence that had stretched on between them. Tommy nodded, shifting to carefully pull out of her, tucking himself back into his trousers and straightening out his clothes. He plucked a handkerchief from his pocket for her to use to clean the mix of their releases from her thighs, then let her hold onto his shoulders when she hopped off the edge of the desk and regained her balance. 

“Have you got everything locked up?” he asked as she pulled her slacks back up.

“Yeah, just gotta grab a few things from my desk to take with us.”

“Good. I wanna get out of here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Tommy Shelby eager to leave work? Is there a special occasion I’m not aware of?”

He rolled his eyes, giving her hip a light pinch. “No occasion.” He swiped a few locks of hair off of her forehead and cradled the back of her neck, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips while his eyes looked her up and down. There was something heated in them that made her thighs squeeze together. “Except that I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“You know, Frances, if there were to be a snap election in this house today, I wouldn’t win it. Even if I were running against the devil himself,” Tommy remarked to their housekeeper once they’d gotten home. Frances shot him a sympathetic look. 

“I’d still vote for you,” Lucy offered. Tommy gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, love.”

He went off to go talk to Charlie where he was sulking in the stables while Lucy ventured upstairs, wandering through the winding hallways until she heard the hum of Lizzie and Ruby’s voices. Coming to a halt in the doorway of Ruby’s room, she watched them where they were seated together in the rocking chair by the window, Ruby in Lizzie’s lap, head resting on her mother’s chest while Lizzie read to her from a book. 

“Hi, Lucy!” Ruby said when she spotted her. Lucy smiled.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Is Daddy with you?”

“He’s down at the stables.”

She let out an excited squeal, jumping off Lizzie’s lap and racing for the door.

“Ruby, what have I told you about running in the house!?” Lizzie shouted after her, but the little girl was already long gone. Lizzie rolled her eyes fondly, shaking her head and closing the book. As Lucy watched her stand to put it away on a shelf, she noticed Ruby’s suitcase laid out on the bed, half filled with clothes. 

“Going somewhere?”

Lizzie sighed, glancing over at the suitcase, then back at Lucy. “I’m taking Ruby to Arthur’s.”

Lucy stared at her. “Why?”

Lizzie’s lips pulled back from her teeth. “Because, I realized this afternoon that I’d rather swallow horse shit than sit down and eat dinner with you and him.” She began to zip up Ruby’s luggage. “I need to get away. From both of you. At least for a while.”

“You could have phoned and we would’ve stayed at the apartment in London like we did last night if you really don’t want us here this weekend.”

“I don’t know if it’s going to be for just one weekend.”

Lucy straightened. “What do you mean?”

Lizzie didn't reply. 

“You cannot be serious. Now, Lizzie? You want to toy around with the idea of splitting up with your husband now? Of all fucking times?”

“He made me look like an idiot at the family meeting!” Lizzie burst out, head lifting and tears in her eyes. “Everyone else knew about the bloody hit in Chinatown except for me! I am his wife! I should be informed of these things first! Especially before you!” The way that she spat out that last word, so full of hate and disgust, made Lucy flinch.  

“For fuck’s sake, Lizzie! There’s a lot of shit here that you are more than justified in being unhappy about, but this? Really? This is where you draw the line?” A humorless laugh left her lips. “I hate to break it to you, but him not telling you things is a normal occurrence. Ada didn’t know about what was happening in Chinatown either.” 

Lizzie looked away, irritably picking up a stuffed animal off of Ruby’s bed. Lucy took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was much calmer. 

“This is not worth throwing a bloody temper tantrum over, Lizzie.”

“I’m tired of being disrespected,” she lifted her head. “I’m his wife, and he needs to start treating him as such.”

Lucy groaned, raising her palms to her face, fighting back the urge to scream into them. “Just once, could you knock it off with the attitude?”

“Easy for you to say, when you always get everything that you want–”

“Oh, do I, now?” Lucy rounded on her. “You think that this,” she gestured vaguely, “is what I want? To have to share him with a woman who openly hates me?”

“I don’t hate you–”

But Lucy talked right over her. “To have to live with the constant worry that you might push me out or he might change his mind and throw me out on the street? That it could happen like that,” she snapped her fingers. “And I could lose everything? Do you think that I wanted to live with that dangling over my head at all hours of the day, Lizzie?” She met the taller woman’s stormy eyes levelly. “We’re all getting a shit deal out of this, so stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself, and make the best of it,” she moved to the door. 

“You are so fucking selfish, you know that!?” Lizzie shrieked after her, finally fully exploding. “You sap up all his love for yourself and leave nothing for the rest of us! You don’t care that him spending time with you means he’s not here with his family! Those children,” she pointed towards the window that looked out to the stables, “deserve a father who prioritizes them over running after his fucking mistress.”

“Don’t you dare try to use the kids–”

“Well, somebody in this household has to advocate for them!”

“Don’t act like you aren’t just using them as a way to try to get what you want.”

Lizzie’s lips slammed into a thin line. “I’m going. And I’m taking Ruby with me.”

“But not Charlie?” Lucy challenged. 

“If I thought that I could take him without Tommy tearing me apart over it, I would,” Lizzie’s voice had suddenly grown very quiet. “I’d take the two of them far away from you both and never look back.”

Lucy shook her head, exhausted. “He’s not that bad, Lizzie. Compared to what he could be? He’s not that bad at all. He doesn’t hit you. He loves those kids…” she could see from the expression of stone on Lizzie’s face that none of her words would be able to reach her, and yet she tried anyway. “He’s got so much to deal with right now. Please don’t make it worse for him.”

Lizzie continued to just stare at her with a look of both extreme sorrow and loathing, and then she picked up Ruby’s suitcase and shouldered past her without another word.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[lucy90712]

Coming home for Christmas- Jude Bellingham

A/n: Happy holidays guys, I have one more Christmas story to come out in the next few days and then a surprise new mini series for new years so get ready Christmas is supposed to be a happy and joyful time of year but this year I just can't get myself in the Christmas spirit. My boyfriend Jude was supposed to spend Christmas with me and my family this year I left a week before Christmas to spend more time with my family and he was supposed to join us after his last league game but due to bad weather he hasn't been able to get a flight. He's been trying for days and last night he text me and said the last flight that would get here on time got cancelled and he wouldn't be able to make it. I had to hide my sadness in front of my siblings as they didn't need me to ruin Christmas for them but once they had gone to bed I did have a good cry with my mum. 

Last year I spent Christmas with Jude's family so this year we were supposed to switch and he'd spend Christmas with my family for the first time. I was so excited to have him here and so were my parents and siblings as they love Jude. We had so many plans and Jude was going to join in with all the family Christmas traditions like the matching pyjamas which I have on while I cry looking at Jude's untouched pair on the dresser in my room. Jude did promise to FaceTime me for most of the day but it just won't be the same as having him here. 

~~~~~~~~~~

I must've fallen asleep at some point last night as I got woken up by my youngest sister jumping on top of me yelling that Santa had been. She was trying to drag me out of bed and straight downstairs but I managed to convince her to wait just a minute which gave me just enough time to brush my teeth and grab a hoodie to keep me warm. It was only as I walked down the stairs I realised I had one of Jude's hoodies on which made me miss him all over again. Yet again I put on a smile as all my younger siblings were so excited and looking at all the gifts waiting for them under the tree. 

The kids really wanted to open presents but my parents insisted we all have breakfast first which in recent years has become my job as everyone loves my pancake recipe. I got the hint and got up to start making the pancakes but before I could get very far the doorbell rang and because I was closest I offered to answer it. My parents didn't say anything which has me a bit confused as I thought they'd be more curious about who was at the door at 7am on Christmas Day but I didn't think much else of it. 

I opened the door still holding the spoon I was about to use to mix the pancake batter but that quickly landed on the ground when I saw Jude stood in front of me. I couldn't believe it he wasn't supposed to be here but here he is stood right in front of me. After taking a second to process what just happened I jumped into his arms which luckily he was expecting and he caught me holding me tightly to his chest. 

"What are you doing here I thought your flight was cancelled" I said 

"I may have lied the flight was delayed for a while but I got in at 3am and slept in the airport for a bit before getting a taxi here to surprise you I thought it would be fun to see your face when I turned up which is why I didn't tell you" he said 

"This is the best Christmas present ever I was so sad that you were going to miss everything but now you're here you can help me make pancakes as that's the first tradition we have" I said excitedly 

"Let me bring my bags in then I'll help make your famous pancakes" he said 

I helped him bring in his suitcases and he took one up to my room but he told me to leave the other one downstairs as it had presents in. He greeted all of my family on his way back down and  made sure to act over the top excited when the kids showed him all the gifts under the tree. Eventually he escaped and helped me make the pancakes and serve them as they came out the pan. As Jude can’t take anything seriously for more than five minutes once I'd made both of us some pancakes he grabbed the whipped cream and put some on the pancakes but also my nose. He managed to take a picture before I could wipe the cream off and put it in his face instead. We had to clean up otherwise I'd get in trouble but we laughed the entire time which really made me happy as this is exactly what I wished today would be like. 

After breakfast it was time to open presents so Jude went and got his second suitcase which was completely filled with presents which he'd clearly wrapped himself as they weren't very neat but it's the thought that counts. He'd got a couple presents for all my siblings and my parents then he piled the rest of them up in front of me. He has a tendency to go a bit overboard with presents but I didn't expect him to get so much for the rest of my family too as I told him that he didn't have to and I could put some of my presents from him too. The kids all opened their presents first which they were very happy with especially their gifts from Jude as he got them all things they really wanted so they were happy. 

While they played with their new toys the rest of us took turns opening gifts. Jude really showed me up with the gifts he got my parents but I'm ok with it as it just shows me that I picked the best boyfriend who cares for my entire family not just me. I managed to redeem myself with my presents for Jude as I went all out I got him things I knew he'd like but also some more sentimental personal gifts which he seemed to really love. Jude can be hard to buy for as he already has everything and he makes a hell of a lot more than I do but I like getting him things that mean something. Jude like always got me things he knew I'd love and like always he was right although I think I'm going to need another suitcase to get it all back out Madrid. 

Just when I thought he couldn't possibly have bought any more gifts for me he grabbed my hand and took me to my room upstairs where he handed me a small wrapped box. I took the wrapping paper off but hesitated for a second before opening the box because part of me wondered if it was an engagement ring and as much as I love Jude we said we would wait a bit longer to take that next step in our relationship. My heart rate felt like it tripled when I opened the box and saw a beautiful but delicate ring but Jude quickly managed to calm me down. 

"Don't worry this isn't an engagement ring I know we agreed to wait for that but I wanted you to have something that showed how much I love you and shows my commitment to you until the day I give you a proper ring so I guess this a promise ring my promise to always be there by your side and to love you" he said nearly making me cry 

"Jude that's the sweetest thing you've ever said and this ring is beautiful" I said 

"I hoped you'd like it and I get if you don't want to wear it on your ring finger we don't want to give people the wrong impression but I thought you could wear it on your right hand and it could be our little secret only we know the true meaning behind it" he said 

"Thats a great idea" I said leaning in to kiss him 

"I do have them sometimes" he joked 

I gave him another kiss before he put the ring on my finger and we headed back downstairs. It was a matter of seconds before Jude was stolen from me by my brothers to play football even though it's freezing outside. Before I knew it I'd been roped in too and I was forced to be in goal but it was kind of ok with me as it meant I could put on thicker gloves and pretend they are goalkeeping gloves. Jude taught the boys a lot of little tricks which they picked up quickly and soon they were able to get just as many goals past me as Jude. They had fun but eventually even they felt the cold and we all got to go back inside where my sister was waiting with her new dolls that Jude got her so he was made to play with her but he didn't seem to mind. One of the many reasons I love Jude is because he's so good with all my siblings and they all love him so much when I come home they always ask for Jude even when he's not with me. 

Jude eventually got freed from doll playing duties and we got to relax for a little while before my mum started cooking the Christmas dinner and I agreed to help along with Jude who decided he didn't want to leave my side. I was a little nervous about him helping as he's not the best cook in fact he's the worst cook I know but with detailed instructions he did quite well dealing with the vegetables. As he watched the water bubbling his arms wrapped around my waist while I made the Yorkshire puddings which didn't help me at all but he's cute and I've missed him in our week apart so I let him. Once my part was done my mum made us go and enjoy ourselves which we didn't need to be told twice we finally got a few minutes to ourselves to relax and cuddle on the sofa. 

Dinner was lovely my mum did a great job and Jude was proud of his contribution so I didn't bother telling him the carrots were slightly overdone. For the whole meal he had a hand on my thigh occasionally rubbing circles on it all while smiling at me like he'd just seen a puppy. His smile was so infectious that we were both smiling at each other throughout the entire meal and completely in our down world. This is exactly how I pictured Christmas with Jude being the little moments like playing with my siblings, cooking together and enjoying dinner together really just made my heart feel filled with love and the Christmas spirit. 

After dinner we didn't have to help with cleaning up as we both helped cook so Jude carried me upstairs over his shoulders to my room. He insisted that we put on our matching pyjamas as he missed that part of my family tradition and then he made sure we took pictures together which he promised he would post but I know in a few hours one will be on his instagram story. Despite it only being 8pm we got ready for bed and got under the covers to cuddle as that's the only thing that felt right to end off the perfect day. Just when I thought things couldn't get any better Jude put on miracle on 34th street which I love to watch but he doesn't so I know he did it just for me. 

"I'm so glad you could make it today has been the best day" I said 

"Me too your whole family are so lovely your brothers are going to be great footballers, your sister has one hell of an imagination and your parents are just so kind to me" he said 

"They all love you so much probably more than me but that's ok because I love seeing all of you get along" I said 

"Well my family loves you more than me so I guess we're even" he joked 

"I guess we are" I smiled kissing him before settling back down to finish watching the movie

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Dangancember 2024 - Danganronpa Top 24 Class Trials - Number 5: Danganronpa V3 Case 1 {BEST CASE FROM DRV3}

//Me running from the angry mob who think this case is fucking overrated:

//Okay, okay, I already knew going into this, looking at my top 10, that this is probably the second or third most divisive placement on this list, because the feelings that people have for this trial are generally mixed, and all of it rides on one particular aspect of it, that carries the whole thing.

//But that's not a problem becase we already have a set precedent for that on this list, and yeah, I will not deny it. This trial is only up here because of one massive bias that I have towards it, and if you know me by now, then you already know what it is.

//But I have lots of other reasons as to why I absolutely love this Class Trial, mainly because even if it's not as good a mystery as 2-1 or A2-1, this is the best opening case for me because of how it kicks V3 off with an emotional bang.

//This isn't like the first trial of Another 2 where I think it's generally not a good sign that my favourite case in that game was the first one. This one has a legitimate reason for being up here because of how, even to this day, it sets itself apart from every other Danganronpa trial that we've covered so far, not just among the openings.

//And trust me, it was SO GODDAMN DIFFICULT trying to decide which I liked more between V3-1 and V3-4, because they're both AMAZING. But the thing that ultimately decided it is that I actually have come back to this case a few times over the course of my time as a DR fan. While I only sparingly go back to Chapter 4 of this game, because it's already had its impact on me.

//If you thought the opening cases in previous games were wild, V3 comes out swinging (literally) with a mystery that doesn’t just set the stage but completely flips the script on what you expect from a Danganronpa trial.

//It’s not just about solving the murder; it’s about the emotional gut-punch, the clever twists, and the bold storytelling choices that make you question everything you thought you knew about the series.

So let’s dive into what makes this case such a standout moment in the franchise.

//The first victim in Danganronpa V3 is Rantaro Amami, a man of mystery whose Ultimate Talent remains unknown during the first chapter. His untimely demise occurs in the library, where he’s tragically bludgeoned on the head with a heavy shotput ball.

//I know there are other aspects of the trial that stand out to people more, but I actually want to kick this review off by saying that Rantaro’s death is not just shocking but downright brilliant.

//It's one of the best character fakeouts in the series, and the only time I think Kodaka does it better in any of his mystery games is the prologue case of Rain Code (If you know, you know.) It's executed so well that it leaves you doing a mental double take.

//At first glance, Rantaro seems poised to become this game’s equivalent of Nagito. i.e. a morally ambiguous outcast with potentially twisted ideals.

//His enigmatic vibe and cryptic behavior practically scream "plot relevance." Honestly, he even gives off shades of Yuri from SDRA2, with that same aura of someone you’d expect to stir the pot in bizarre and unsettling ways.

//To emphasize this further, all the other Ultimate ???'s have been integral to their games. Kyoko was the deutragonist and leading lady of DR1, and Hajime was the protagonist of DR2. And in the first chapter of DR1, Kyoko is mostly unnasuming, and you don't know what her relevance to the plot is until the trial actually happens; since most of the screentime of Chapter 1 is taken up by Makoto's relationship with Sayaka.

//But before we even get to unravel his deal, he’s unceremoniously removed from the board. It's as if the game chuckled to itself and shouted "SIKE!"

//This clever bait-and-switch caught me completely off guard. I was ready for Rantaro to take center stage as the group's wildcard, only for the game to pull the rug out from under me.

//Instead, the role of chaotic, antagonistic schemer eventually falls to Kokichi, who turned out to be another fantastic choice, though his brand of chaos is a touch different.

//I'd really like to see a potential fanfic rewrite where Rantaro survives, and serves as the rival character to the main protagonist. Because most V3 rewrites are one's that have Kaede survive the first chapter, but Rantaro still dies, and he hardly gets any screentime, if any. And that's a shame, because I'd like to see what people do with his character.

//Please read all these fanfics by the way, they're so good.

//And sure, you could argue the setup feels a bit reminiscent of Danganronpa 2, where the first victim is also a character cloaked in mystery, and then later, his real talent is revealed to be something monumental to the plot of the game. But hey, if it ain’t broke, why fix it? It’s a bold way to kick things off and keep players guessing, and it sets the stage for the rollercoaster ride of twists that V3 is known for.

//But...okay, let's not delay ourselves any longer. All ya'll motherfuckers know the precise reason why it is that I love this trial.

//When it comes to the first trial of Danganronpa V3, the victim is certainly a shocking element, but let’s not kid ourselves...there’s one reason why this trial is etched into the annals of the series’ history as one of its most mind-blowing moments.

//And that reason is…The culprit.

//So, who killed Rantaro Amami? Who's the mastermind behind this library bludgeoning?

//You are!

//Okay, to be more specific, the person who turns out to be Rantaro's SUPPOSED murderer is Kaede Akamatsu, the Ultimate Pianist, who starts V3 by serving as the player character.

//Yep! The character you’ve been controlling this whole time is the murderer. And that alone is one of the best plot twists in the entire series, already rivalling the final plot twists of Danganronpa 2.

//And if that doesn't set a precedent for this game, I don't know what could have.

//To elaborate, the game opens with you playing as Kaede, a talented and determined pianist with a big heart, a hopeful spirit, and a knack for rallying her classmates. Everything about her screams "main protagonist," from her bright demeanor to her prominent placement in marketing materials.

//But as this trial unfolds, the game pulls the ultimate fast one.

//At first, the trial plays out like classic Danganronpa fare: you gather evidence, debate your classmates, and cross names off the suspect list. The usual, right? But as the suspects dwindle and the pressure mounts, it becomes clear that solving this case won’t come easy.

//The group edges closer to despair as they struggle to pinpoint the killer. This is where Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective, the game's current deutragonist, becomes the prime suspect for much of the trial.

//After some prompting, Shuichi, putting his sleuthing skills to good use, proposes a theory that flips the entire case, and the game, on its head. The real killer isn’t anyone standing on the sidelines. It’s Kaede herself. The cheerful, hopeful pianist you’ve been guiding through this madness turns out to be the one who orchestrated Rantaro’s death.

//Let’s pause to appreciate just how wild this twist is. Up until this point, Kaede was framed as the central figure of Danganronpa V3. You’ve bonded with her, rooted for her, and poured hours into her perspective. And now, she’s sentenced to death.

//The "main character" doesn’t even survive past the first chapter! It’s a daring, genre-defying move that caught players completely off guard.

//To make this twist land, the game’s developers went all out. They weren’t just pulling a fast one on Kaede; they were pulling one on us. Here’s just some of the things they pulled off this grand deception:

On the game’s official Steam page, the promotional images heavily feature Kaede as the protagonist. Shuichi, on the other hand, is LITERALLY a background character.

Kaede is front and center in nearly all official artwork; at least those that dropped at the time of release. Shuichi’s presence is muted, making it seem like she’s the undisputed lead.

V3 is the only one of the Danganronpa games that had a fully released demo. In the game’s demo, Kaede is marketed as the hero, reinforcing the idea that this is her story. Makoto and Hajime, both of whom make reappearances for the demo, specifically refer to her as a "fellow protagonist."

The developers warned fans repeatedly on social media to avoid spoilers, knowing this twist was too good to ruin.

To cement the illusion, they even slapped the "Female Protagonist" tag on the game’s store page.

//This level of misdirection is nothing short of genius. It’s one of the most ambitious twists the series has ever pulled off, and it solidifies this trial as a standout moment in Danganronpa history. Clever, daring, and a little cruel, it’s the kind of narrative gut punch that keeps fans talking years later.

//Also, as a side note, while I was doing this analysis and getting screenshots from YouTube to use as part of it, I found this comment, and I never actually thought about it this way, and it's so goddamn funny for some reason:

//It definitely keeps ME talking years later, since these days, Kaede is quite possibly my favourite character in the entire series.

//And yes, I'm sorry, this is turning into a rant about why I absolutely love Kaede, but it is very relevant to the plot of this trial, since this is her one and done. So I want to establish what she was able to achieve within her time.

//Kaede is a delightful bundle of joy, determination, and just the right amount of chaos, and even though she is the protagonist initially, she sets herself apart from the previous series hitters; Makoto, Hajime, and Komaru.

//She’s a hardworking leader type with a strong will, unshakable beliefs in herself and others, and a heart set on making people smile. especially through her music. But while her Ultimate Pianist title highlights her talent, it’s Kaede’s personality and quirks that truly make her shine.

//For starters, Kaede’s kindness and selflessness often lead her to put others first, sometimes to a fault. She’s so trusting that in the game’s demo, she outright fakes an alibi for Makoto based solely on gut instinct, even though she has no rational reason to believe he’s innocent. She does this for Shuichi as well, but obviously, as far as she's aware, SHE'S the culprit, so she knows that if Shuichi is voted for, she gets executed.

//She’ll lie if it’s for a good cause, but at the same time, she’s hilariously bad at it, squirming uncomfortably every time.

//Like previous protagonists, she’s sensitive to others’ struggles and listens earnestly to their concerns. But Kaede takes it a step further: she actively pushes people to improve, even if that means bluntly pointing out their flaws.

//It's easy to go through all of V3 without seeing her FTE's, because she's obviously only around for this chapter, and has two per character. And unless you reset the game multiple times, you won't get to see them all.

//Which is a shame that you have to go through so much effort to see them because they're all packed with moments of encouragement that show her as an unshakable force of positivity. Unsurprisingly, most of her classmates quickly grow to like her.

//That said, Kaede isn’t without her...problems...In fact she has quite a few.

//Her obsession with piano borders on comical; she works musical metaphors into everyday conversations and avoids any activity that might harm her precious fingers. Her Free Time Events with Tsumugi even lead to a minor existential crisis when she realizes her entire identity revolves around piano, prompting her to desperately search for new hobbies.

//Which is not true, because personally, I think she's among the deeper characters in V3, but it's still funny.

//Kaede also has a goofy, impulsive side that often makes her unintentionally funny, or awkward or awkward depending on the situation. For example, she has absolutely ZERO sense of restraint

//In K1-B0’s Free Time Events, she casually asks questions about his robotic nature in ways that come off as insensitive. She’s the type to poke buttons (literally in Keebo's case, where she pushes his emergency shutdown) or cheeks without permission, giving her a playful, almost childlike quality.

//But then there’s her tendency to blurt out comments that can sound…questionable. She enthusiastically calls Tenko cute, describes Tsumugi’s "sexy aura," and even threatens to lift Tsumugi’s skirt to get her to talk, prompting Shuichi to point out that she’s acting like a creepy old man.

//Her layered personality doesn’t end there. While she’s a genuinely kind and brave person, Kaede also has a fiery temper and a knack for standing her ground. She’s quick to lash out when provoked, whether it’s snapping at Shuichi for panicking, telling Himiko to shut up during an investigation, or calling out Kokichi for his attention-seeking antics.

//Yet, these moments of frustration come from a place of passion, as Kaede firmly believes in justice and doing what’s right. She’s not afraid to call out any behavior she deems unacceptable, earning her a reputation as a bossy but well-meaning figure.

//However, Kaede’s determination to do the right thing is both her greatest strength and her biggest flaw. She’s relentless in pursuing her vision of justice, even when it’s misguided or downright dangerous. In this chapter, she rallies the group to escape using one of Monokuma’s obvious traps, earning everyone's pointed criticism, specifically from Maki and Kokichi. Her pushy attitude sometimes rubs others the wrong way, but Kaede genuinely doesn’t realize how her actions affect those around her until it’s pointed out. When her good intentions go awry, it leads to moments of genuine regret.

//Of course, Kaede’s defining moment comes in the trial, where her unwavering sense of justice drives her to extremes. To save her classmates, she attempts to murder the Mastermind, a decision that ends in disaster when her plan misfires and Rantaro becomes the unintended victim.

//And despite the inclusion of the First-Blood Perk, which allows whoever commits the crime to escape the school without the need for a Class Trial, she refuses to take the chance, because she wants to use the trial to out the Mastermind.

//This twist not only redefines Kaede’s role but also highlights her complexity. She isn’t just a good person in the traditional sense. Her belief in her own righteousness blinds her to the consequences of her actions, making her a beautifully flawed and deeply human character.

//Now...before I go onto what I actually liked about the trial itself, and how, while the Kaede twist carries it, it's still supported by a bunch of really neat moments, mysteries, and pacing, I want to go over one massive concern that we haven't really established with this case, and give my opinion on it. Because this is something that we've kind of already gone over, but I want to talk about it in more detail here, because this is where the point becomes relevant.

//During the trial, the evidence begins to point toward the fact that Rantaro was killed by a heavy shotput ball dropped from the vent above the library’s bookcases, which is how Kaede set up the trap. Initially, suspicions are scattered among several characters, with Shuichi himself being a prime suspect for much of the trial.

//However, in a dramatic reversal, Shuichi pieces together that Kaede’s actions prior to the murder align with the placement of the murder weapon. He theorizes that Kaede had hidden the shotput ball inside the air vent with the intention of setting a trap for the Mastermind. This trap involved the ball rolling out of the vent and hitting whoever triggered the motion-detecting cameras set up in the library. Tragically, Rantaro happened to be the one caught in the crossfire.

//Or so we thought...

//In truth, Tsumugi Shirogane, who is secretly the mastermind of the killing game, altered the events of the murder after Kaede set her trap. Kaede’s plan to kill the Mastermind failed, and the shotput ball actually MISSED Rantaro. He was instead killed directly by Tsumugi, who procured her own ball and smashed him over the head with it.

//Using her authority over Monokuma and the game, Tsumugi manipulated the evidence to make it look like Kaede’s trap had succeeded. Ensuring that Kaede would take the fall for the crime, not only eliminating a strong-willed leader who might disrupt the killing game early on, but also, due to Monokuma's threat of killing everybody if nobody died within a certain time limit, to ensure her own survival.

//The group unknowingly plays into her hands, convicting Kaede as the blackened based on incomplete and fabricated evidence. And it's quite possibly the only substantially evil thing Tsumugi does in the whole game.

//Now...this element of the game is controversial, both for me, and for the audience, for several reasons.

//My big issue is that it's an unfair manipulation of the rules of the killing game, which usually relies on airtight logic and player-driven deductions. Knowing that the evidence was tampered with by Tsumugi retroactively feels like a betrayal of the game’s premise of uncovering the truth.

//And yeah, this isn't the first time the Mastermind does this. Junko does this in Game 1, in fact. And it's highly unrealistic for you to believe that the Masterminds would ever willfully play by the rules, but my problem is that it really undermines them from being the powerful villains that they play themselves as in the final Chapter. It's why I believe AI Junko in the second game is the best Mastermind of the lot, since she's the only one who doesn't royally fuck up at one point (barring Mikado and Akane T.)

//The bigger issue for people in general, however, is that some fans feel that the framing diminishes Kaede’s role in the twist. Instead of her actions directly leading to the crime, her plan is sabotaged and used against her by an outside force. This makes her appear less culpable, which can feel like a cop-out for such a high-stakes moment.

//One could argue that if Kaede had actually succeeded in killing Rantaro, the twist would have been more impactful. It would’ve forced players to grapple with the moral complexity of Kaede’s actions, as she would’ve knowingly crossed a line to protect her friends. By shifting the blame to Tsumugi’s interference, the narrative somewhat softens the weight of Kaede’s decision.

//And I do agree with all of these notions, and understand where people are coming from. HOWEVER, despite these criticisms, Kaede’s framing still works within the context of the story and doesn’t take away from the emotional impact of her being the Chapter 1 culprit.

//What you have to remember is it isn't simply that Tsumugi committed her own crime individual of Kaede. Kaede started the murder plan, and Tsumugi finished it.

//It still means that Kaede isn't the killer, and shouldn't have been executed for it, but it doesn't change the fact that she still TRIED to kill somebody.

//It doesn't take away from the complexities and flaws of Kaede as a person in this game. The Despair she felt, and the corner she was driven into, still mattered, and she still acted on it in the worst way possible. Had the shotput ball hit Rantaro and not missed by pure coincidence, she would still have been the culprit.

//Even though she was framed for the actual murder, Kaede’s actions remain central to the story. Her plan to kill the mastermind reflects her unyielding determination to save her classmates, even at the cost of her own morality. Whether her trap succeeded or not, Kaede willingly put herself in a position where she would’ve been responsible for taking a life. This is the heart of the twist, and it’s not about whether she succeeded, but about her willingness to go that far.

//The framing doesn’t change the fact that Kaede is executed believing she is responsible for Rantaro’s death. Her guilt and despair as she tries to encourage Shuichi to carry on in her place still land with full emotional force, and the player shares her devastation, and her death leaves a lasting impact on the narrative. This doesn't change with Chapter 6's revelations.

//And on top of that, Tsumugi’s interference is consistent with her role as the mastermind and a villain who thrives on deception. The killing game has always been about manipulation, both of the participants and the audience. By framing Kaede, she ensures that the game starts with a shocking betrayal of expectations, cementing her as a calculating and ruthless antagonist.

//Only to fumble the ball much later, but this is more of a knock on Trial 6 than Trial 1.

//And that's mainly the big reason why I think this trial is great as an opening. It allows several characters to shine early.

//Kaede’s bold leadership, Rantaro’s mysterious potential, and glimpses of complexity in Kokichi’s manipulations and Kaito’s steadfastness all take center stage.

//But beyond Kaede, the real breakout star here is Shuichi, whose journey from hesitant sidekick to true protagonist begins in earnest during this chapter.

//At first glance, unlike Kaede, Shuichi feels eerily familiar to Makoto and Hajime, or previous protagonists. He’s polite, serious, and perpetually anxious, sporting a hat he refuses to take off because he’s self-conscious about making eye contact. He blushes, breaks into cold sweats, and often assumes everyone else is more capable than he is.

//In short, he doesn’t exactly exude confidence or charisma, and that’s exactly why his growth feels so satisfying. V3 may have ups and downs in terms of its characterization and plot development, but if there's one thing that I can say for certain, it's that Shuichi's character writing, throughout ALL of this game, is FLAWLESS!

//Despite his meekness, Shuichi shows surprising flashes of initiative early on. He’s the first to suggest they set a trap for the mastermind, proving he’s not as passive as he seems. He’s also quick to stand up for himself when pushed too far, such as his angry outburst at Miu accusing him of being a pervert.

//Kaede’s role in shaping Shuichi cannot be overstated. As the initial protagonist, she radiates optimism, courage, and determination. Her plan to stop the mastermind, though it fails, demonstrates her willingness to take risks for the group’s sake.

//When the truth of the trial forces Shuichi to accuse her, the weight of that responsibility crushes him, but Kaede’s faith in him remains unwavering.

//Kaede’s final words, encouraging Shuichi to believe in himself, become the foundation for his transformation. Her trust in him, paired with Kaito’s relentless support afterwards, helps Shuichi shed his self-doubt (and his hat) and step into the spotlight as the protagonist. From here on, Shuichi is determined not to look away from the truth, no matter how painful, a promise he makes in honor of Kaede’s memory.

//Trial by trial, Shuichi grows more confident and assertive. By the time the finale rolls around, Shuichi has fully stepped into his role, calling out the mastermind and rallying his fellow survivors with unshakable resolve. His passionate outrage upon revealing Kaede’s unjust execution shows just how far he’s come, not only as a detective but as someone who refuses to let lies define their lives.

//What makes Shuichi such a compelling protagonist is how different he is from Kaede. Where Kaede is bold and charismatic, Shuichi is quiet and thoughtful. He lacks her boundless optimism but compensates with razor-sharp intellect and a deep sense of responsibility.

//His understated heroism makes his victories feel earned rather than inevitable, and his struggles resonate with anyone who’s ever doubted themselves.

//In the end, Shuichi becomes the protagonist that Team Danganronpa never anticipated. While Kaede was ideal for their manufactured Killing Game, Shuichi subverts their expectations entirely. By rejecting the binary of Hope and Despair and refusing to vote, he takes a stand that transcends the game’s twisted rules. His quiet determination and intellect ultimately bring an end to the Killing Game and the series itself.

//Just as he promised Kaede.

//Kaede’s death and the way she passes the torch to Shuichi set the stage for one of, if not, THE most rewarding character arc/arcs in the series. Her impact is felt throughout the game, not just in Shuichi’s growth but in how her sacrifice inspires the survivors to keep pushing forward.

//Shuichi’s evolution from anxious and self-doubting to confident and decisive is what makes him such a standout protagonist. His relatability, paired with his ability to rise to the occasion, ensures that his journey, from the first trial to the game’s finale, is as compelling as it is memorable.

//But while the characterization and the relevance of Kaede is what carries this trial this high onto the list, I want to talk a little more about my thoughts and feelings on the invesigation, and the trial itself.

//The first chapter of Danganronpa V3 is just as heavy and depressing as its predecessors, but it cranks up the confusion factor to eleven. While Hope’s Peak Academy and Jabberwock Island had some sense of familiarity, the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juvenies in this game feels more alien, making the stakes even harder to grasp initially.

//I kind of already said this, but from the way Rantaro carries himself in the prologue, acting all mysterious and competent, I was convinced he was going to be a key player. Maybe even a leader figure who would stick around for the long haul. And then when he started going a bit off the rails, I thought, "Ah, I see where this is going."

//I began thinking that he was going to turn out like Tsurugi from the Another games. Like the morally rigid, justice-obsessed type whose sense of right and wrong is slightly…off.

//But nope! The next thing I knew, Rantaro was lying there, very dead, and I was sitting there questioning my life choices. That little arc of his really threw me for a loop.

//Unless you're NicoB and somehow channeling detective-level intuition, figuring out who the killer is in this case is next to impossible based on the investigation clues alone. And that’s exactly what makes it so brilliant.

//With Kaede as the culprit, you essentially experience the entire murder setup firsthand. You’re there for the plan, the execution (as in the crime HAPPENING in real time, not the execution that kills Kaede, although we are also there for that), and the aftermath. But the game cleverly omits just the right moments or twists key words in a way that keeps you from ever suspecting her.

//Now, let’s address the elephant in the room: some fans argue that the protagonist switch is the only good thing about this case, dismissing the rest as basic or bare-bones.

//Respectfully, I think they’re wrong.

//Sure, the protagonist twist is a massive highlight. It’s chef’s kiss in terms of execution. But the case itself has plenty to offer.

//As a first case, it had some big shoes to fill. On one hand, it easily outshines the first trial in Danganronpa 1, which, let’s be real, was serviceable but not exactly riveting.

//On the other hand, it had to compete with Danganronpa 2’s first trial, which featured Teruteru’s surprisingly intricate scheme. That one’s a tougher act to follow, but I’d argue that Kaede’s case pulls ahead in terms of how engaging and multilayered the mystery is.

//Teruteru's crime was more complicated, and engaging, but it wasn't as fun to solve as this one was for me.

//Is it the most complex case in the series? No.

//Does it redefine what meta means in V3? Not quite.

//But it’s still an awesome, tightly crafted mystery that deserves its spot among the series’ best. In hindsight, even though they are my least favourite set of mysteries in the main trilogy, V3’s cases are all pretty intricate, so the fact that this one holds its ground says a lot.

//And really, how can you not appreciate a case where the game essentially says, "You’re the killer, but good luck realizing that before we drop the bombshell?"

//It’s clever, it’s bold, and it sets the tone for V3’s penchant for subverting expectations. Whether you’re here for the shocking twists or just love seeing your brain get tied in knots, this case delivers.

//For good measure, I'll reiterate how this whole thing goes.

//So, the whole mystery kicks off with Rantaro getting murdered, and Kaede, being the brilliant hero that she is, takes it upon herself to help the group narrow down the list of suspects. She shuts down anyone who tries to throw blame at others, using hard evidence like a detective on a caffeine high.

//The excuses for why certain people couldn’t have been the killer range from, "They were miles away at the time," to "They’re physically too weak to throw a shotput hard enough to kill someone". Basically a smorgasbord of alibis and physical limitations that could’ve come straight out of a detective’s handbook.

//But as it goes, all suspicion seems to funnel onto Shuichi. After all, he’s the only one who could bypass the security system, because Miu, the mastermind behind the tech Shu and Kae used for their trap, told him how to do it, while Kaede was not informed beforehand. And since Miu has her own alibi, she's off the hook.

//However, in a classic display of Kaede's wits, she manages to throw a few crafty suggestions, and a little white lie here and there, to get Shuichi off the suspect list.

//But if Shuichi isn’t the culprit, then who in the world is? Well, Shuichi, after a brief moment of hesitation, and probably some deep internal screaming, suggests a bold new theory: Kaede could be the killer.

//Now, if this was a soap opera, this is where the dramatic music would kick in. The rest of the trial devolves into a full-on "everyone vs. Shuichi" situation. Which is a terrible situation to thrust the poor boy into, especially since this chapter also features a whole ass scene where Shuichi is crying about being scared of the truth.

//I get why Kaede did it, and it did help Shuichi in the end, but it doesn't change the fact that she was making him fight everybody over a truth that he didn't want to come to light.

//The tension is palpable, and the whole room is practically ready to tear him apart, but this is where Shuichi starts showing his detective chops. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down, and argues with the same quiet determination you’d expect from someone who’s been taking notes on how to deal with chaos. It's a subtle flex of his growing skills as a detective, and honestly, it’s pretty satisfying to watch him hold his ground against everyone.

//Eventually, the trial wraps up with Kaede confessing to the murder. But here's where things get a bit…well, complicated.

//Now, if there’s one thing that makes this trial truly stand out, it’s how the protagonist switch ties into the game’s larger themes of Truth vs. Lies, and more importantly, the colossal twist that the world of V3 isn't even real.

//Shuichi, the true protagonist, is like the ultimate punchline to the whole game. The fact that Kaede doesn’t make it past the first chapter is like one giant narrative rug-pull. Not only does it break your expectations for what you thought the game was going to be, but it also ties directly into the overarching narrative of deception that runs through V3.

//And, if you’re paying close attention, it’s not just a clever narrative trick. It's a commentary on the entire premise of the game. The creators themselves are in on the joke, which adds a whole layer of meta to the experience.

//In the end, this trial is a perfect storm of clever writing, emotional punches, and mind-bending twists.

//Kaede may not have been the killer, but her actions set the stage for everything that follows, and that’s what makes this trial one of my absolute favorites in the Danganronpa series.

//So yeah, I'm definitely biased. And I'm sorry if that ticks people off.

//But I should warn you. If you think THIS is the most controversial pick for the upper rankings? You'd best get ready for tomorrow's.

[nevernonline]

✧.* pancakes for dinner; svt smau

chapter 11; late night talking (written)

synopsis: y/n while in her third year at greenwood international university finally gets an opportunity to move off campus into a new complex, she has to deal with the realization that her childhood rival is her new next door neighbor.

 paring: seungcheol x fem! reader. 

feat: non-idol! svt,  other passing idols ykyk.

genre/s: reader is super oblivious, fluffy, sexual themes. 

content: swearing, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

updates: weekly

word count: 7.7k. (written part in-between two sets of texts)

tag list - open

masterlist ▸ 10. cute undies ▸ 12. boo’s big bash

Finally exiting from the bathroom after her multiple deep breaths and compilations on why she agreed to sit across from her what some would call nemesis. Y/N dropped into the chair across from him, her movements sharp, deliberate. She crossed her legs and draped her jacket over the back of the chair, as though marking her territory. The gin martini she had begrudgingly ordered sat untouched in front of her.  

Seungcheol leaned back in his seat, the picture of ease. His arm rested casually along the back of his chair, his other hand nursing his drink. That maddening smirk hadn’t left his face, like he was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle of her reluctantly sitting across from him.  

“So,” he began, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm, “what made you change your mind? The drink? My charm? Or were you just dying for my company?”  

Y/N arched an unimpressed brow. “Don’t flatter yourself. I came over because you don’t seem to understand boundaries. Consider this my final act of mercy before I block you everywhere.”  

Seungcheol chuckled, the sound low and warm, as though her words were the punchline of a joke only he understood. “Harsh, but fair. I guess I’ll take what I can get.”  

He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. Y/N hated how effortlessly magnetic he was, how he could command a room—or in this case, her attention—without even trying. It was infuriating.  

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharp. “You seem awfully proud of yourself for someone who’s clearly losing.”  

“Losing?” His smirk deepened, and he leaned forward just slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “You’re the one who walked over here, Y/N. I’d say that’s a win for me.”  

The way he said her name made her want to both glare at him and look away, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of either. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, mirroring his earlier posture, and folded her arms across her chest.  

“Don’t read too much into it,” she said coolly. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t order me another unwanted drink. Bartenders have better things to do than play delivery boy for your ego.”  

He laughed again, and this time it was louder, unrestrained. The sound was warm, genuine, and entirely at odds with how much he irritated her. “You really don’t hold back anymore, do you? I like that about you.”  

“I’m not here for you to like me,” she shot back.  

His expression softened, just for a moment, and she thought she caught a flicker of something sincere beneath his playful facade. “Maybe not. But you’re here. That counts for something.”  

She rolled her eyes, breaking the brief intensity of the moment. “Don’t push your luck.”  

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, though his tone suggested the exact opposite.  

For a few beats, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t entirely hostile either. The sounds of the bar filled the space between them: the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the soft strains of jazz.  

Eventually, Seungcheol broke the silence. “So, what’s got you sitting alone in a bar tonight?”  

Y/N hesitated. She didn’t owe him an answer. But there was something disarming about the way he asked, like he genuinely wanted to know, like he wasn’t just making small talk.  

“It’s really none of your business, but in the spirit of trying to be nice to you. I just felt like it, simple as that.” she said finally, though her voice lacked the edge it usually carried.  

He didn’t push, didn’t pry. Instead, he nodded, as if her non-answer was enough. “Fair. All your friends were busy, huh? I get it. Me too.”  

Another silence settled between them, but this time, it felt different—less like a standoff and more like a truce.  

“You know,” Seungcheol said after a moment, his tone lighter, almost teasing, “you’re a lot more interesting when you’re not trying so hard to be intimidating.”  

She shot him a withering look, but there was no real heat behind it. “And you’re a lot less interesting when you talk.”  

He laughed again, and she hated how much she didn’t hate the sound of it.  

The conversation carried on like that—sharp, sarcastic, and laced with an undercurrent of something neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Y/N still didn’t trust him, and she still found him insufferable. But for the first time, she started to wonder if there was more to him than the cocky facade he wore so well.  

By the time she checked her phone and its unread texts, her martini was empty, and she hadn’t blocked his number.  

“You’re letting me off easy tonight,” Seungcheol said, leaning back in his chair with that same infuriating grin.  

“Don’t get used to it,” she replied, her voice as sharp as ever but, she caught herself smiling—just barely—and that annoyed her more than anything.  

“You’re not a regular here, are you?” Seungcheol asked, swirling the last remnants of his drink.  

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curling up in challenge. “Why do I not look the part?”  

“It’s not that exactly,” he said, smirking. “You seem more like the type who spends your time in your room, like all your high school nights at home, organizing your planner instead of, you know, being out and about.”  

Her jaw dropped, feigning offense. “Excuse me? I unfortunately know you know what I was like in high school.”  

“I do know,” he said smugly, leaning forward a bit. “You were the girl who always had perfectly color-coded notes and freaked out if someone borrowed her highlighters without asking.”  

“That is—” she began, then stopped, narrowing her eyes. “Okay, that might be true. But don’t act like you didn’t benefit from those notes. If I recall correctly, you borrowed them more than once.”  

Seungcheol grinned, shameless. “What can I say? You had great handwriting, and I had zero fucking interest in Chemistry.”  

“Right, and I’m supposed to believe you actually read through them,” she teased.  

“I did!” he said, feigning indignation. “Well, I skimmed them. Look, it’s not my fault that equations are boring.”  

Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You were the worst. Always showing up to class five minutes late, acting like you’d just conquered some heroic quest just to make it there. And the worst part is everyone ate it up.”  

“First of all,” Seungcheol interjected, holding up a finger, “those five minutes were essential. Do you know how hard it is to grab coffee and make it across campus in that short amount of time?”  

“Heroic, truly,” she said dryly.  

“And second,” he continued, ignoring her sarcasm, “admit it—you loved it. You were always so fucking serious, someone had to keep things interesting.”  

She scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “I was serious because someone had to be. While you were busy sneaking out of class, I was doing what I thought I had to do to be successful.”  

“Oh, come on,” he said with a playful grin. “It wasn’t that bad. I did my part… sometimes.”  

“Bare minimum,” she shot back. “And don’t think I forgot about that time you tried to pass off Wikipedia as a ‘credible source’ for our History project.”  

He laughed, a low, warm sound that made her stomach flip despite herself. “What can I say? I knew you’d catch it. Why do all the work when I have a perfectionist in my corner?”  

“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re really selling yourself here, Seungcheol.”  

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “And yet, here you are, sitting across from me. Funny how that works.”  

Y/N rolled her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You’re insufferable.”  

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But admit it—I made high school a little less boring for you.”  

She hesitated, then sighed dramatically. “Fine. A little.”  

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he said, grinning.  

“Don’t let it go to your head, it’s big enough” she warned.  

“I make no promises,” he replied smoothly.  

She shook her head, laughing softly. “Okay, so if you were the ‘bare minimum’ guy back then, what about now? Have you finally mastered the art of being responsible?”  

“Define ‘responsible,’” he said, smirking.  

“Right, I know that answer,” she said, laughing. “And it’s no.”  

“And you?” he shot back. “Still the same overachiever who used to rewrite her essays three times before turning them in?”  

“Of course not,” she said, lifting her drink with mock dignity. “Now I only rewrite them twice.”  

Seungcheol laughed again, the sound bright and easy. “Classic Y/N.”  

“You’re one to talk,” she teased. “Let me guess—still winging it through life and somehow making it work? Pretending to be perfect in front of Daddy Warbucks.”  

“Hey, don’t knock it,” he said, grinning. “It’s a system.”  

“A questionable one,” she said, shaking her head.  

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But it got me here, didn’t it?”  

Their laughter softened, and for a moment, the teasing gave way to something warmer. The weight of shared history lingered between them, a connection neither of them could deny.  

“You know,” he said after a beat, his tone more thoughtful, “I always wondered what you’d be like now. If you’d still get flustered when someone borrowed your highlighters.”  

Y/N tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “And?”  

“And you’re not so different,” he said, leaning back. “Maybe a little sharper. But still you.”  

She raised her glass, her eyes meeting his. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”  

“It was meant to be one,” he said, his grin softening.  

The bartender called last call, breaking the moment. As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Seungcheol glanced over at her, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.  

“It’s late,” he said casually. “You headed back to the building?”  

Y/N nodded, pulling her coat tighter around herself. “Yeah, unless you’ve got a better plan.”  

He smirked. “I might. But considering we’re both heading to the same place, how about I walk you back? Purely out of neighborly concern, of course.”  

She arched an eyebrow, fighting a smile. “Neighborly concern, huh? I didn’t realize you were such a gentleman.”  

“Don’t let it ruin my reputation,” he said with mock seriousness, stepping to her side as they began walking down the quiet, dimly lit street.  

The night was crisp, and their breaths puffed in the air as they walked. For a while, the conversation stayed light—comments about the weather, a random observation about the neon sign flickering on a nearby storefront. But as they turned onto the quieter road leading to their building, Y/N glanced at him, her lips twitching with amusement.  

“So, I have to ask,” she began, the playful edge returning to her voice.  

“Uh-oh,” Seungcheol said immediately, side-eyeing her. “That tone tells me I’m about to regret this walk.”  

“Oh, you will,” she said with a grin. “What did I hear about you and karaoke night last week?”  

He groaned, immediately scrubbing a hand down his face. “Oh, fuck. We have to talk about that?”  

“Let’s just say the campus gossip page is very thorough as well as Soony.” she said, biting back a laugh. “Apparently, you gave a very heartfelt performance. You really know how to piss people off, huh?”  

Seungcheol winced but quickly recovered, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “Ah, I was wondering how long it’d take for you to bring it up.”  

“And you weren’t going to apologize to me?” she asked, half-laughing, half-horrified. “Do you know how many people sent me screenshots? I thought my phone was going to explode.”  

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” he said, shrugging, “it wasn’t entirely true.”  

She blinked, confused. “Wait, so you didn’t actually sing the song?”  

“Oh, I definitely sang it,” he said with a grin. “The dedication part might’ve been exaggerated, though. I mean, I got dared to sing something cheesy. Your name just came up because someone thought it’d be funny to make it look like I was serenading you. Seungkwan definitely was less than pleased with me though, he told me to stop being so obsessed with talking about you.” 

Y/N narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge whether he was telling the truth. “Uh-huh. And you just– what? Decided to ignore him?”   

“Not intentionally,” he said, grinning. “But, tequila and me don’t mix well I guess. I was, how do you say? Wasted?”  

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You’re fucking unbelievable. No wonder half the school thinks we’ve got some secret love-hate thing going on.”  

“Well, we do, don’t we?” he teased, nudging her lightly with his elbow.  

“That’s not helping your case,” she shot back, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.  

They walked a few more steps in companionable silence until a vibrant glow caught Y/N’s attention. A small bar down the street stood out, its bright neon sign flashing a rhythmic “OPEN” in a mix of blue and pink hues. She paused, the light reflecting in her eyes.

“Oh, I love this place,” she said suddenly, her tone lit with excitement. “The vibe, the music...”

Seungcheol followed her gaze, raising an eyebrow. “Never pegged you as the neon-bar type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore.” she shot back, her lips twitching into a grin.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head toward the glowing entrance, “can we change that? One more drink?”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” he said with a shrug, already steering her toward the door. “It’s not like you’re turning in early anyway. Unless you’re scared I’ll outdrink you.”

“Oh, please,” she said, scoffing. “You wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

The inside of the bar was cozy, illuminated by dim, colorful lighting that gave it a laid-back yet electric atmosphere. A jukebox hummed in the corner, playing a soft rock track that Y/N immediately recognized. The tables were a mix of polished wood and eclectic barstools, each piece mismatched but fitting perfectly with the aesthetic.

Seungcheol ordered for them—another round. This time beer, considering the dive energy of Y/n’s secret sanctuary—and slid onto a stool beside her at the bar.

“So,” he began, turning slightly to face her. “What’s so great about this place? Nostalgia trip? Secret past I should know about?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just nice. A little out of the way, not too crowded. Good music, good vibes. Kind of like an escape.I just love that I can come here and not see anyone I know, just play pool, sit with myself.”

“An escape,” he echoed, his gaze softening slightly as he watched her. “Guess that makes sense. You always were the kind of person who found little spots like this.”

She gave him a curious look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grinned. “Back in high school, you had this thing for sitting in the weirdest fucking places—corners of the library, random spots on campus no one else even thought about. I used to wonder if you were plotting something.”

“Again, not a plotter,” she insisted, though the laugh in her voice betrayed her.

“Sure,” he drawled, leaning an elbow on the bar. “And what about that time during sophomore year when you climbed up on the gym roof because you said it ‘had the best view’?”

She blinked, heat rising to her cheeks. “How do you even remember that?”

“Oh, I remember a lot,” he said, smirking. “Like the way you used to doodle all over your notes, even during exams. Or how you’d always hum to yourself when you thought no one was listening. I noticed a lot about you.”

“Okay, stop,” she said, laughing as she hid her face in her hands. “I cannot believe you remember all that.”

“You and your weird ass habits are hard to forget,” he said simply, his voice dipping into something softer, more sincere.

She peeked at him from behind her hands, her heart skipping for just a second before she shook her head, deflecting the moment. “What about you, Mr. Star of the Basketball Team? You spent more time in fucking detention than class. Not exactly model-student behavior.”

“Detention builds character,” he quipped, raising his glass in mock pride.

Y/N leaned back in her seat, twirling her drink idly. Seungcheol eyed her with a playful smirk, tilting his head like he was sizing her up for a challenge.  

“So,” he started, his tone dripping with mock seriousness, “now that we’re being all civil and everything, I think it’s time I asked the hard-hitting questions.”  

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious but amused. “Hard-hitting? Like what? My favorite color?”  

“Please,” he scoffed, waving his hand dramatically. “I already know it’s blue.”  

She blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—how—”  

“Lucky guess,” he interrupted, grinning at her confusion. “Anyway, moving on. Let’s start with something juicier.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was about to uncover a deep secret. “What’s the deal with Mingyu?”  

Her eyebrows shot up. “Mingyu? What about him?”  

“Oh, come on,” Seungcheol said, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “You two are always hanging out. Laughing at your little inside jokes. Are you secretly dating him or something? I mean I did see him leaving your place”  

Y/N barked out a laugh, nearly spilling her drink. “Are you serious? Also what’s the concern?”  

“Hey, it’s a valid question,” he defended, though his grin betrayed his teasing. “The guy follows you around like a lost puppy half the time.”  

“He does not.” she protested, still laughing. “Mingyu’s just... Mingyu. He’s like a giant golden retriever. Sweet, chaotic, but no not together like that.”  

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So, you’re saying he’s firmly in the friend zone?”  

“I guess,” she confirmed, taking a sip of her drink. “I think he might actually be more in love with testing my patience than anything else.”  

Seungcheol chuckled at that, nodding in agreement. “Okay, fair. But what about Hoshi?”  

Her face twisted in mock confusion. “Seriously? What about Soony?”  

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “He’s fun, kind of weird. Seems like the type to sweep someone off their feet with, like, a mating dance or some weird song he wrote in his bedroom.”  

“Stop,” Y/N groaned, laughing harder now. “Hoshi would absolutely cry at that description. He���s my go-to for chill movie nights and random deep conversations, but romantic? No way.”  

“Hmm.” Seungcheol tapped his chin thoughtfully, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, what you’re saying is... no secret boyfriends in your inner circle?”  

She gave him a flat look. “Why are you so fucking nosy about my love life?”  

“I’m just trying to piece together the puzzle that is the great Y/N,” he said, feigning innocence. “You know, fill in the blanks from all those years we spent arguing.”  

“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically, crossing her arms. “And what about you Mr. Investigator? Any secret girlfriends I should know about? Maybe one you should have been serenading at karaoke?”  

“Touché,” he said, raising his glass in mock surrender. “But for the record, no. I’m currently unattached, thank you very much.”  

“Oh, the ladies must be absolutely fucking devastated,” she quipped, smirking.  

“They’ll survive,” he shot back, smirking right back. “Besides, I’ve been too busy dealing with you lately.”  

She rolled her eyes, but the playful banter warmed her more than the drink in her hand. “Well, consider yourself lucky. Not everyone gets the privilege of my company.”  

“Oh, I know,” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “And honestly? I think I’m starting to enjoy it.”  

The words hung in the air for a beat, his tone more sincere than she’d expected. She glanced at him, caught off guard but not entirely displeased.  

“Careful, Seungcheol,” she said, her voice lighter than she felt. “People might think we’re actually getting along.”  

“Maybe because we are,” he said simply, taking a sip of his drink.  

For a moment, the tension between them softened into something easier, something unspoken but understood. And as the jukebox switched to a new song, Y/N decided she didn’t mind the shift.  

Seungcheol took another sip of his drink, his eyes still on Y/N. There was something in the way the conversation had shifted, and for the first time, it felt like there was less of an edge between them.

“So,” he started again, a little quieter this time, “you really don’t think Mingyu’s into you?”

Y/N gave him a side-eye. “We’ve been over this like a thousand fucking times, Seungcheol. He’s not.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” he mused, leaning back in his chair, his grin returning, though it was less mischievous and more thoughtful. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. It’s like he’s trying to decide if he’s supposed to be looking at you like a friend or something... more.”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous,” Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “Mingyu would never. He’d rather trip over his own feet than admit something like that.”

Seungcheol’s gaze softened for a moment. “Are you sure about that?”

Her expression faltered for a brief second, before she shook her head. “Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, I wouldn’t want him to feel like he had to hide it. He’s one of my best friends. I’m not trying to complicate things.”

“I get that.” Seungcheol’s voice softened too, the tone carrying more sincerity than before. “Sometimes the simplest friendships get tangled when people start overthinking things. Kind of like how we were”

Y/N nodded, running a hand through her hair. “Exactly. And I like things the way they are. We all have enough drama to deal with without adding any more.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “True. Which is my fault. I’m sorry.” He tilted his head, eyeing her thoughtfully. “So, you’d never date someone from your friend group? Not even someone you’ve known for a while?”

Y/N looked at him sharply, her eyebrows furrowing. “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me now? I thought we were past that.”

“No, no,” he said quickly, hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m just curious. I mean, you’ve been surrounded by them for so long, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s ever crossed your mind.”

“Maybe,” she said, her eyes softening, “but even if it did, I’m not sure it’d be a good idea. Things would get complicated. People start taking sides, there’s awkwardness... I’m not about that.”

Seungcheol tilted his head. “So, you’re saying you’d never date someone like me?”

Y/N blinked, and her gaze shot to his face. “What?”

He leaned forward slightly, his grin playful again. “I mean, I’m not exactly the worst option. I’ve been known to be a pretty decent guy once you get past the sarcasm and the... well, the occasional obsession with bad jokes.”

Y/N’s lips twitched. “Wow, really selling yourself there, huh? And I tried that once, it ended so fucking poorly, you know it. So no, not a consideration.”

“Hey, I’ve got layers,” he replied, tapping his chest dramatically. “There’s more to me than meets the eye.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, her gaze narrowing slightly as she studied him. “You think you could handle me now? I’m not exactly an easy person to figure out anymore. You hurt my feelings so badly that this grudge has been lingering over us for a decade and you think I’d even consider you?”

“Please,” he said, waving her off. “I’ve been dealing with you for years. I know exactly what I’m getting into.” He smirked. “Or at least, I like to think I do. I know all of that was stupid and you don’t exactly know the full story I took accountability for it, I still feel fucking awful. You have to understand that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I do. But I don’t think you’ve ever exactly figured me out.”

“Sure, I’ve got you pretty figured out.” Seungcheol grinned, leaning closer again, his tone playful. “You’re a bit of a control freak, a perfectionist, but deep down, you’re a big fucking softie who just doesn’t want to admit it and you don’t want to admit you sort of like me..”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Wow, you really do think you have me figured out, don’t you?”

“I do.” He leaned back again, looking pleased with himself. “And if you ever decided to date someone like me... well, I think I could keep up with your charm.”

Y/N’s lips quivered at the corners as she shook her head. “You are a very bold drunk. But – Maybe you’re right. But for now, you’ll have to settle for being my most annoying nemesis.”

“Hey, I’m cool with that,” Seungcheol said, raising his glass with a wink. “You’re the most fun challenge I’ve ever had, times two.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and easy, and for a moment, she felt like the conversation had just returned to the usual playful banter they always had. But beneath the teasing, there was something different—something that lingered in the way they looked at each other, a quiet understanding that maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as simple as they seemed.

“So,” Seungcheol said after a beat, breaking the silence with a teasing grin. “If you had to choose someone from the group, who would it be?”

Y/N considered him for a moment, then leaned forward. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll think about it if you do the same. Deal?”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s like that, huh? I guess we’ll see who cracks first.”

Y/N smirked. “I’ll be waiting. But no pressure.”

For a moment, the playfulness settled back in, but beneath the laughter and the teasing, the question hung in the air, unanswered but not unwelcome. 

Seungcheol glanced over at Y/N, a thought lingering in the back of his mind. He’d always been good at pushing things off, but tonight felt different. He couldn't keep skirting around this tension that had been there for years. They’d shared countless moments, laughed together, argued, but there was always something unresolved hanging between them, like a shadow that neither of them fully acknowledged.

He waved over the bartender. “Two more of the usual,” he said with a casual smile, though the weight of what he was about to say sat heavily in his chest.

Y/N didn’t notice the shift at first, still absentmindedly sipping her drink and watching the crowd. When the bartender returned with the fresh glasses, Seungcheol’s grin faded just a little. He set his glass down with more care than he usually did, then leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter than before, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it. Her gaze flicked to him, catching the change in his tone.

“What’s up?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Seungcheol hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. His usual teasing was nowhere to be found now. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down, gathering his thoughts. "I know we’ve had... our share of messes between us,” he began slowly, his words careful, each one weighed down with meaning. “And I know I’ve been... Well, definitely not the best sometimes. I’ve said things, done things that probably made you feel like I didn’t really care, or that I wasn’t worth the effort."

Y/N’s expression softened, though she remained quiet, listening. She could feel the tension rise again, but this time, it wasn’t the usual playful back-and-forth. It felt... real.

“I don’t know if this is the right time to bring it up, or the right place considering it’s a sanctuary for you,” Seungcheol continued, meeting her eyes now, his voice lower, more vulnerable than she’d ever heard it before, “but I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. About how we’ve been, and how I’ve been with you. And... I’m sorry. For all the stupid things I’ve said and done in the past that made things harder between us.”

Y/N blinked, taken off guard by the honesty in his voice. She opened her mouth to say something, but he held up a hand, shaking his head gently.

“No, wait. Please let me finish.” His voice was steadier now, more resolved. “I’ve always been kind of... blind, I guess. I thought I could keep things light, keep pushing, keep playing around with you. But the truth is, I’ve always respected you. I always thought you were way more than what I let on. And I think I took that for granted.” He leaned in, his voice a little more earnest. “I don’t know what you want from me, Y/N. But I want a chance to show you that I can be better. I can be someone who’s actually worth your time—whether that’s as a friend or something more. I don’t care what we have to go through, I just don’t want to leave things unfinished, or have this distance between us anymore. I want to be in your life. For real.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond. She could hear the weight in his words, the genuine apology. The teasing, cocky side of Seungcheol had been stripped away, leaving someone vulnerable and raw. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this—he had always been so confident, so in control. But now, there was no hiding the sincerity that poured out of him.

The silence stretched between them, and for a second, it felt like the whole world had paused.

Y/N looked at him, her heart racing. She’d spent so long guarding herself, pushing away feelings she didn’t want to deal with. But here he was, finally offering her the one thing she’d always wished for—the chance to start fresh, to move past the hurt and the misunderstandings.

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol nodded, his expression softening further. “Yeah, I am. And I know it’s probably too late to change everything that’s happened. But I don’t want you to think I’m just some guy who’s going to disappear all the time when it gets tough. I want to be here for you. I always have, in my own messed-up way. But I’m ready to try for real this time.”

Y/N swallowed, feeling the lump in her throat, fighting back the emotions threatening to spill over. “I... I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice shaky now. “It’s not at all easy for me to just forget everything. The way things have been between us even our parents are involved, our friends I mean... it's a lot.”

“I know,” Seungcheol said, his voice gentle. “I’m not asking you to forget. Just  to consider it. Consider giving me the chance to prove that I can be the person you need. I know I’ve messed up, and I know it might take time, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind racing. She’d been so focused on keeping things light, keeping him and everything at a distance. But in that moment, looking at him—seeing the vulnerability in his eyes—she realized maybe it was time to let go of the past. Maybe it was time to see what could happen if they didn’t keep pretending.

She exhaled slowly, the weight in her chest easing just a little. “Alright, Choi,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve got one, like literally, one fucking chance. Don’t mess it up.”

Seungcheol’s grin returned, but this time it wasn’t cocky—it was soft, relieved. “I won’t. I fucking swear.”"

For a moment, the air between them felt lighter, the tension that had always existed now dissipating into something... different. There was a quiet understanding, a mutual agreement to try, even if it wasn’t going to be easy.

Y/N stared at him for a second longer, her heart still thumping in her chest as the weight of the conversation settled. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

“Hey, Seungcheol,” she said, voice quieter now, tinged with something almost sheepish.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head, watching her closely.

She shifted in her seat, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her drink. “I just... I don’t think I can tell anyone about this. About us hanging out tonight. Or about... this.” She gestured between them, her eyes not meeting him. “They’ll call me a hypocrite.”

Seungcheol blinked, surprised. “What? Why?”

She let out a small sigh, frustration and amusement mixing. “Because for years, I’ve been the one telling them not to trust you, to keep their distance. And now... here I am, talking to you like we’re on the same page. They’ll never let me live it down.”

He frowned slightly, understanding finally dawning on him. “You really think they’ll be that harsh?”

Y/N shrugged. “Probably. They know I’ve never been shy about how I feel about you. It’s gonna look like I’m going back on everything I’ve said.”

Seungcheol leaned back, his expression softening as he processed her words. “Look, I get it. You’ve had your reasons to keep me at arm’s length. But you don’t have to keep everything a secret just because of them. You should do what feels right for you, not for what other people think.”

She met his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I know, I know. It’s just... it feels like I’d be betraying what I’ve always said. I’ve spent so long keeping things from getting too close, you know?”

“I get it,” Seungcheol said, nodding. “And I’m not asking you to do anything you’re not ready for. I’m not going anywhere, though. Whenever you’re ready to tell them, or not tell them, it’s up to you. Just don’t let it keep you from what you want.”

Y/N smiled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “Thanks, Seungcheol. I’m not sure what I want just yet... but I think I’m getting there.”

Seungcheol gave her a reassuring nod. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

As they sat there, the jukebox playing softly in the background, it was clear that this conversation wasn’t the end of anything, but maybe the beginning of something different. Something that neither of them had fully expected—but something they were both willing to explore. And even though Y/N wasn’t sure how to navigate the fallout with her friends, for the first time in a long while, she felt like she had someone on her side.

As they walked back into the night, the streets were quieter, the hum of the city fading into the background as the two of them walked side by side, the cool night air wrapping around them. The usual banter between them had settled into a comfortable silence, but there was something unspoken between them—something new. Neither of them had figured it all out yet, but tonight had cracked something open, and it wasn’t something they could ignore.

Seungcheol shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing over at Y/N, who was walking a little slower, lost in thought. “So,” he started casually, his voice lighter than before, “how exactly are we going to pull this off without everyone calling us out?”

Y/N let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “I’m honestly still figuring that part out. Which is why I’m lost in my head. I don’t want to tell them we hung out. Not yet, anyway. They’ll just jump to conclusions, you know? Like they always do.”

“Yeah, they have a tendency to make things dramatic,” Seungcheol said, rolling his eyes. “But what, you’re just going to keep this all a secret? How long do you think we can get away with it?”

Y/N shrugged, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like we’re doing anything wrong. We’re just talking, right? But they won’t see it that way. And I don’t want to make things awkward if it all goes south.”

Seungcheol glanced at her sideways, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips. “You really think it’ll go south? Just because we decided to be honest for once?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “It could? But, I’ve spent so much time telling them how terrible you are, it’s going to look weird if I suddenly show up saying, ‘Hey, guess what, Seungcheol and I are actually cool now.’”

“Well, maybe it’s time to shake things up a bit,” Seungcheol said, nudging her with his elbow. “Who says you have to be predictable? Maybe they need to see a different side of me. I mean, it’s not like I’ve been all bad, right?”

Y/N let out a short laugh, glancing at him with a raised brow. “Oh, trust me, they know you have a charming side. Which really fucking bothers me. I don’t think they’d buy the whole us trying to be friends thing anyway, even if I did tell them.”

“I’m not saying we make a huge announcement,” Seungcheol said, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. “Maybe we should just keep it low-key for now. Just, let things develop naturally. No pressure.”

Y/N stopped walking for a moment, glancing at him. “I just feel bad, I guess. I know it's a lot to ask you to keep something like this quiet for who knows how long?”

He stopped too, meeting her gaze with a quiet intensity. “I get that. I’m not asking you to hide things for me, Y/N. I just don’t want things to be messy. We don’t have to tell anyone until we’re sure of where we stand. And if it does get weird, if we realize we’ve made a mistake  then we deal with it. Together.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then let out a quiet sigh, shoulders relaxing. “You make it sound simple. But I’m just not sure if I want to make everything complicated again.”

Seungcheol took a small step closer, his voice gentle now. “I’m not asking for us to dive into anything crazy. Just... give it a chance. We’ve been through too much for me to walk away now. And I’d rather have you in my life, even if it’s just as friends, than have things stay the way they’ve always been.”

Y/N stared at the ground for a second, thinking. He wasn’t pushing her, wasn’t demanding anything more than she was willing to give. But it was hard to ignore how much his words made her feel. The thought of letting someone in, really letting them in—without all the barriers and walls—was terrifying. But, for once, it felt like Seungcheol wasn’t trying to be the person who hurt her. Instead, he was offering something different.

Finally, she looked up, meeting his eyes. “Okay, fine. We’ll keep it quiet. Just for now. I’m not ready for everyone to know we’re friends or on the way to being friends whatever this is. But I’ll give it a shot. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a chance.”

Seungcheol grinned, a quiet triumph in his eyes. “Fair enough. No pressure. We can just take it one step at a time.”

They started walking again, the soft crunch of their footsteps on the pavement the only sound between them for a few moments.

“Honestly though,” Seungcheol said, glancing over at her with a playful glint in his eye, “I’m kind of excited to see how long we can keep this whole ‘secret friendship’ thing going.”

Y/N snorted, the tension between them easing further. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll have fun with that. Just don’t do anything stupid to blow it.”

“I won’t,” he replied, his grin widening. “You have my word.”

As they continued walking, the city’s lights flickering overhead, there was a sense of quiet understanding between them now—an unspoken agreement that this, whatever it was, wasn’t going to be easy. But for the first time in a long while, it felt like maybe it could be worth it.

And maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to be a secret forever.

As they reached the steps of their building, Y/N’s heart sank when she spotted a familiar figure approaching from the opposite direction. Yuqi was walking briskly toward them, her face glowing with the aftermath of what had clearly been an entertaining night. 

“Oh, no,” Y/N muttered under her breath, glancing at Seungcheol in alarm. “It’s Yuqi.”

“Yuqi?” Seungcheol repeated, his brows furrowing. “Like red headed Yuqi, Yuqi?”

“Yes,” Y/N hissed, already feeling the impending questions. “If she sees us together, she’s never going to let me live it down. She’ll have a thousand questions, and I’m not ready for an interrogation.”

Seungcheol’s eyes darted around the street. “What do you want me to do? Hide? Run? Fake a phone call?”

“Fuck. Just—” Y/N gestured frantically to the nearby column. “Go hide over there. Now.”

Seungcheol darted to the side, flattening himself against the column with the stealth of someone who had absolutely no business being stealthy. Y/N quickly composed herself as Yuqi stepped up to the entrance, her sharp eyes immediately zoning in on her.

“Y/N!” Yuqi called brightly, her heels clicking on the pavement. “What are you doing out here? Don’t tell me you were out with someone tonight.”

Y/N leaned casually against the railing, shrugging. “Nope, I just needed a breather. Thought I’d have a smoke before heading up.”

Yuqi’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t even smoke.”

“Well, weed.” Y/N said, tilting her head with an exaggerated shrug

Yuqi narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she launched into a detailed retelling of her date, her hands flying dramatically as she described the highlights of being out with Mark.

Y/N nodded along, her expression carefully neutral as she sneaked a glance at Seungcheol. He peeked out from behind the column and mimed lighting a cigarette with a cocky grin, earning a sharp glare from Y/N that she hoped Yuqi didn’t catch.

“And then,” Yuqi continued, oblivious, “he tried to tell me he knew a magic trick, but he completely botched it. Oh my god, Y/N, I almost died laughing.”

“Sounds amazing, I'm glad you had fun ,” Y/N said, trying not to choke on her suppressed laughter.

Yuqi stretched her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh. “Anyway, I need to shower so badly and I am so fucking tired. Let’s do a proper debrief tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” Y/N said quickly. “Go get some rest. I’ll be right up. Night, girlie.”

“Night, loser.” Yuqi said with a wave, finally heading inside. 

The second the coast was clear, Seungcheol emerged from his hiding spot, brushing himself off dramatically. “So, how’d I do?”

“You were fucking terrible,” Y/N said, though she was smiling as she shook her head. “I could see you miming a cigarette out of the corner of my eye. You’re so lucky she didn’t notice.”

“Hey, I was staying in character,” he said with a mock-serious expression. “You said you were having a smoke. I was just being a supportive whatever I am.”

“A pain in my ass?” Y/N offered.

“That too,” he quipped, his grin wide and unrepentant. “But come on, admit it. This whole sneaking around thing is kind of fun.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though her laughter betrayed her. “Fun? You call nearly blowing my cover fun?”

“Absolutely,” Seungcheol said with a nod. “But now I’m curious—if someone else catches us, what’s your next excuse? Stargazing? Birdwatching? Vigilante vibes?” 

“Keep it up,” she warned playfully, “and I’ll just tell them I was waiting for the cops to show up because you’re stalking me.”

“Brutal,” he said, chuckling. “But hey, I got us through tonight, didn’t I?”

“Fucking barely,” she shot back, though the smile on her face lingered as they walked up to the door. 

Once they had one last peak into their building, the soft glow of the lobby lights spilling onto the sidewalk. Seungcheol pulled the door open for her, gesturing grandly.  

“After you, Highlighter Girl,” he said with a smirk.  

“Wow, thanks, Karaoke King,” she replied dryly as she stepped inside.  

As they waited for the elevator, the air between them felt lighter, easier—like the lingering tension from earlier in the night had finally given way to something more comfortable.  

“So,” Y/N said as the elevator doors slid open, “any plans to top that famous performance? Or was that your peak?”  

He laughed, stepping in beside her. “Oh, that was just the beginning. Next time, I’ll take requests.”  

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips tugged upward despite herself. “Just do me a favor and leave my name out of it, okay?”  

“Where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, his grin wide and teasing.  

The elevator chimed, and they stepped out onto their floor. stopping in front of her door, Y/N turned to him, arms crossed.  

“Thanks for the walk,” she said, her whispering tone light but genuine.  

Seungcheol paused before taking out his keys, giving her a crooked grin. “Goodnight, Y/N. Try not to miss me too much.”

“Goodnight, Seungcheol,” she replied, shaking her head. “Try not to get yourself on the gossip page again. Or at least, not because of me.”  

“No promises,” he called as she shut the door behind her, his laughter echoing softly in the hallway.  

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she took off her coat. Whatever this was between them—this ridiculous, secret, almost-friendship—it was chaotic and unpredictable. But she had to admit, it was also shocking that she was starting to feel like something she didn’t entirely mind.

note: hiii lol. two in one week bc now that we're getting into it more im excited, but! pls enjoy. hopefully we can alllll try to support y/n in her time of her "healing era" lmao

taglist: @minhui896@sun-daddy-yoriichi@luchiet@miles-sketchbook@kissesfrmwonwoo@readerlozies@vcutparis@mxnhoeuwu@writingbarnes@headlockimnida@odxrilove@jeonghaniehaee@bath1lda @wonwootakemyheart @dokyomis@hanniesdegree @blvkkeddcc@gyuguys@rakshithanotrao @multiplumes @jihoonsbbygirl

[cognitiveoverload]

Basic human decency (platonic Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader)

summary: You're the surgeon who operated Hotch, and you're annoyed that he immediately starts working after waking up.

“I hoped you would be knocked out a little longer,” you say with a playful smile as you enter his room, stopping at the foot of his bed. He stops typing and raises an eyebrow in question, which makes you shake your head in disapprovement. “Dr. Young warned me that you’re a workaholic, but I didn’t think you would be working so soon after a surgery.”

Hotchner let out a sigh and put down the phone to focus on this conversation. “It’s important. I can’t just lie here and do nothing,” he replies.

Nodding, you put the chart on the bed next to his feet, then move a little closer to him. “Look, you need to rest. When you were brought in, things didn’t seem serious, so no one talked to you about this, but due to that complication, and after such a serious surgery, I’d rather see you taking it easy for now,” you explain with a kind smile.

All it takes is one look to know a lot about him. You heard that he’s working for the FBI, it’s clear that he’s a born leader, but that mixed with a stubborn attitude can be dangerous in hospitals. As a doctor, you give instructions to patients, expecting them to do as you say, but people like him often ignore these orders. If it was up to you, you would take away every device that can help him work, but you have no right to do that. 

The best you can do now is try to reason with him. Well, seeing the doubtful expression on his face, you’d probably have a better chance convincing a brick wall.

“I’m just making a few phone calls,” he tries with a smile.

“Work calls?” For a few moments, he watches you with a blank expression, but then it all changes and suddenly he looks like a kid who was caught doing something wrong. “You have a son, right?”

He nods in response. “Jack. He’s six,” he replies, sounding a little unsure. “Why?”

Your attention is drawn to the door where a nurse waves at you, so you quickly signal her that you’ll be there in a moment, then return your attention to the patient. “It’s the summer break, right? Why don’t you ask someone to bring him here? You would have the chance to spend more time with him, and you wouldn’t spend that time working. It’s a win-win to me,” you offer with a laugh.

There’s a strange gleam in his brown eyes as he considers your idea. While he thinks about this, you go to pick up his chart, then flash one last smile at him before telling him to rest and that you’ll be back soon. You even dare to jokingly threaten him that you would confiscate his phone, to which he replies with a silent nod of understanding. But there’s something under the surface, something that just doesn’t click into place, yet you can’t figure out what it could be. 

Shaking off this feeling, you leave the room and get lost in work again. After checking on a few patients, you have another small surgery, which manages to take your mind off this for now. In fact, the rest of your shift passes without thinking about the agent again, but then, about half an hour before you can finally leave, you find yourself at the nurses’ station across his room. You don’t notice it at first, only when Dr. Young stops next to you with a teasing grin on his face. 

When you ask him what it’s all about, he just shrugs and points at the room with his pen. “Well, well, well, young lady, you are officially a miracle worker. According to my sources he stopped working after you left,” he explains with a kind smile as he looks at you. 

You follow the pen and notice that Hotchner isn’t alone, there is a young boy sitting on the edge of his bed, while a few people are standing around it, deep in a conversation. Something tells you they’re his colleagues, partly because you can see one of them carrying a weapon, but they are all smiling and laughing, it’s surely not work-related. So he did listen to you. Good. That’s exactly what you wanted. 

“Let’s hope it stays this way until he’s discharged,” you note quietly, but while you want to say something else, the words don’t come out. Because through the window you can see him turn to you, as if he could sense you are standing there, watching him, and you could swear he flashes a thankful smile at you. And then you jump from the surprise, because Lisa, one of the nurses, holds up an envelope in front of your face. “What’s this?” 

She shrugs with a teasing smile, then bumps her shoulder into yours as she hands it to you. “Oh, just a message I was asked to give to you. And it came with that bouquet of flowers. No big deal,” she says happily. 

As you open it, you watch as she and Dr. Young leave your side, giving you space to read the card. It’s a gift from Hotchner, and he used this way to thank you for making him understand that he can allow himself to retreat and recover instead of jumping back into work, possibly stressing himself out because of it. That’s all. It’s just a short message, but it’s surely one of those small things that make your job a hundred times better. 

As you look back at him, you see him watching you again, so you raise the card and nod in his way, to which he responds with a smile. And this catches his colleagues' attention, because they all turn to you suddenly, which makes you flee the scene before they could find you to ask questions. Maybe it’s time to go home now. But first, you scribble a short thank you message on a piece of paper, and ask a nearby nurse to give it to him once he’s alone again. There are no questions, but you can see the knowing grin on his lips that make you roll your eyes. 

This isn’t flirting.

This is basic human decency.

[sharkieboi]

just finished the Broken Earth trilogy and ngl I’m never gonna be the same

[anonymusbosch]

sometimes i feel like extending the kindness you can, when you can, is the only thing there is

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny the Guy Who Won't Die

He lives in Gotham, and he is just A Guy. Nothing weird about him, he's just there to study/work/help Lady Gotham to lift her curse/on vacation with Sam. Point is, he is not there to cause trouble and there's no GIW on his tail. Just a dude living his (after)life.

And Gotham, being Gotham, still finds a way to be annoying. There are mugging attempts, robbery, Rogues running around. Only Danny really doesn't want to deal with any of it.

Now there's a dilemma. If he uses his powers to fight, it will sooner or later come to Bats' attention. And if he fights as a human, it will also alert some of the Bats since he doesn't really do a great job at keeping his power levels low. Not to mention the fact he is really not enthusiastic about accidentally punching someone hard enough he sends them to a hospital.

What does he do instead? He pulls the 'I guess I'll die' act.

So every time he is attacked, he just plays dead. The mugger shot him in the chest? He falls down and stops breathing. Caught up in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack? Skewers himself on the vine and goes lax. Scarecrow's Fear Gas? Very dramatically chokes himself and plays a corpse. He makes sure to disappear before any ambulances arrive later, and it all goes well for a few months - he is just a casualty, who cares, really - until one day, he runs into that same mugger who shot him in the chest a while ago.

The man does a double take. Danny doesn't notice - he's been mugged so many times, who has the brain capacity to remember all of those fuckers. But the rumor goes out anyway.

A guy-who-won't-die. It's more of a city legend, really, and the Bats don't give it much thought since, well, it sounds stupid and not very important. A rumor of some man who was shot dead and then showed up like nothing happened? Yeah, it's probably because the mugger didn't check if he was actually dead. That happens. Maybe it wasn't even the same man, Gotham is a big city. If anything, hey, at least that was one less casualty? That's a good thing.

That is, until one day, they show up to Joker's hostage situation and witness the clown screaming at one of the hostages. He is so enraged he is shaking, spit flying out of his mouth, and, contrary to the usual Joker's evil sneers and maniacal laughter, he seems just... furious. But, like, the normal-human-level furious. The 'I just lost the last ounce of patience with you' furious.

"Don't you look away from me, you think I don't remember you?! Na-ah, I do. You were the one I drowned in the shark tank last week! And you were the one run through the chainsaw trap two weeks before that! And you were in the guillotine!!! I saw your fucking head get deattached from your body, how the fuck are you here again?!"

And the guy he is screaming at just looks at him, confused and incomprehensive.

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting my head cut off, you know? So, err, wrong guy."

"Wrong guy my fucking ass-"

Joker is so distracted by his screaming match that it makes it almost too easy for the Bats to fight him down and drag to Arkham. Yet, a few of them get just a bit suspicious.

Now, imagine all the shenanigans when they try keeping a watch on Danny the Won't Die Guy.

[lukesaprince]

The Other Man H.S

Summary: Where y/n's husband opens up her marriage and she meets Harry on Tinder...

Warning: Smut, oral (f & m recieving), penetration, dirty talk (degradation & praise), spanking, squirting, I think that's it?

Word count: 13.5k+

Author's note: Hellooo long time no see! It feels like forever since I posted anything and I do apologise for that my brain was taking a hiatus apparently but hopefully I can get back into the groove! This probably needs editing but I hope you like it anywayy.

- Find my General Masterlist here -

“So… do you do this a lot?”

“What do you mean?” You took a sip of your wine, trying to sate the erratic nerves jumping within the walls of your body. Not even a few drinks before you arrived to your date could save you. 

“Go on Tinder dates.” 

Harry, the man who effortlessly charmed you when your friends encouraged you to swipe right on him seemed as relaxed as ever. He had this calm and sensual aura about him that existed through every little thing he did. His smile, the way he thanked the waitress, the way he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and guided you to the table with a hand on the small of your back. Everything. 

It was all a little too charming for your first date back in the game. Part of you even wished it would be a disaster. Then you reminded yourself that there had to be a first date. That you had to reclaim your desirability and get back into the dating scene to find yourself again. It had been three months after all, nearly four since your marriage blew up in your face and everything about your life changed. 

You felt like you were ready. Or at least willing to give it a crack.

“You seem a little nervous, that’s why I ask. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Harry spoke up again when you didn’t answer right away. 

“You didn’t offend me,” you assured, blushing at the way you got so caught up in the attraction of him, “but is it really that obvious?” You shook your head, laughing softly like the idea of actually being on a date was unfathomable. It was. To you anyway; especially given the fact that the man sitting in front of you wasn’t your husband. “This is my first date in… a while.”

“It’s not obvious.” Harry laughed softly, running his hand through his hair. “But it’s okay to be nervous. I’m nervous too.”

“You are?” Your eyes widened, “it’s not because I’m married, is it? Because I put it in my profile and-”

“It’s not because you’re married,” He assured, interrupting your clear panic. He found it quite adorable actually. “It’s because I like you and I think you’re beautiful. I wouldn’t be here if I thought otherwise.”

Oh. 

Harry didn’t want to overstep. He had only been chatting with you for a week before meeting in person, but he already liked you, at least from the few bits of information he learnt about you. And you were quite pretty, insanely pretty actually. Harry thought you were attractive from your profile, but seeing you in person only solidified that. It would take some serious differences between you two for him to not want to pursue things.

But this was a first date afterall and he wasn’t going to put pressure on something so fresh. You were clear before even meeting him that you weren’t looking for anything serious and Harry was happy with that. Whatever the outcome of this date, he at least wanted to make sure you had a good time. Even if it meant you two never saw each other again.

“Oh.” You felt your heart hammering in your chest at the compliment. Even his eye contact was making you a jittery mess. Harry made you nervous. Giddy even and you had barely known the man a week. “Thank you.”

Carson still complimented you, even still said he loved you, but nothing really felt the same after he wanted to open your marriage. It was like a wrecking ball to your life. Your heart broke instantly and your self esteem took the biggest hit you had ever experienced. Your own fucking husband asking to open your marriage after nearly three years of being married, six of being in a relationship. How were you supposed to take it?

He gave you those same reasons many guys give when they want to open a relationship; that you just didn’t fulfill his needs sexually anymore and that he needed more to be satisfied. You tried to explain that you’d be willing to explore his fantasies if he just communicated them, especially since he had been the one leading a very vanilla (but good) sex life since you two got married, but he didn’t like that idea. 

You came to the conclusion there was someone else. Carson denied it and told you he still loved you, but you couldn’t ignore the gut feeling that this was all some fucked up coverup to excuse cheating. So you said no. Safe to say that didn’t work out because a divorce ultimatum and three months later and you were here, trying to reap the benefits from an open relationship you were too reluctant to explore. 

Carson of course was happy to follow the rules you two set and be out nearly every damn night with someone, but you could never bring yourself to do it. You were still hung up on the hurt and pure embarassment you felt being forced to open a marriage you thought was happy. In the end you realised that you deserved the pleasure Carson was getting from someone else. You deserve to be desired and taken out on dates. It didn’t seem fair that only one person was benefitting.

“You’re welcome, love.” Harry smiled, “let’s just not put any pressure on it, okay? No expectations or anything. We’ll just get to know each other and see where the night takes us.”

You liked the sound of that. You liked the sound of him calling you ‘love’ even more. 

“Okay,” you nodded, “I like the idea of that.”

“Good.” Harry raised his wine glass in a toast and you couldn’t help but feel a little mesmerised by the sight of his ringed fingers wrapped around the glass. Shaking yourself out of it, you raised yours as well. “To us.” He offered.

“To us.”

The date with Harry went far better than you ever could’ve expected. He was sweet and charming and all the things that drew you to him via text were even better in person. You two had far more in common than you realised and even the things you didn’t only added so much interest to the conversation. He made you laugh harder than you had for months and was the perfect gentleman all night. 

You two didn’t sleep together, not that you went into this date wanting to sleep with him anyway because you weren’t really sure what to expect, but you came out of it hoping he’d offer to walk you up to your hotel door and maybe continue walking you right to your bed. Harry didn’t do that of course and instead offered you a kiss on your cheek and an invitation for dinner again next week, but that only made you want him more.

Leading up to the date was so overstimulating and so much all at once that you decided to book a room at the hotel in the same complex as your dinner (which he so kindly paid for), just so you’d have time in a clean environment to process your thoughts afterwards. 

Carson was out with his girlfriend April tonight, as that’s what she was to him now, so he wouldn’t be home anyway. But you didn’t want to be getting ready in your own room near the bed you and your husband shared, only to return to it after a date that could’ve been terrible. You wanted something just for you so no matter the outcome and no matter how you felt about it, you had somewhere free from any memories relating to your marriage.

When Harry offered the second date, you told him you’d think about it. He understood, took it like a great guy (the bare minimum, yes, but you were also expecting him to be too good to be true) then waited until you were in the closing doors of the elevator to say goodnight. It didn’t take long after you were clean and in the comfort of a fresh Carson-free bed that you texted Harry to let him know how much you enjoyed the date and that you would like to join him for dinner next week.

He was nice and handsome and you had a really good time with him. The thought of seeing him again made you giddy and you wanted to hang onto that feeling.

Harry: I’m glad it didn’t take you too long to think about it. I had a wonderful night. X

You were practically giggling as you read the text, feeling like a little girl dating a cute guy she liked for the very first time. It was exhilarating. Only one date in and you already understood the appeal Carson was talking about, as much as you wanted to disagree with him.

You: I’m glad. Goodnight Harry x

Harry: Goodnight, love. Sleep well x

//

“So what did you get up to last night?” Carson asked, “you have a nice night away?”

“I went on a date, actually.” Your back was facing towards him as you unpacked your overnight bag. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically feel the surprise radiating off him.

“Oh, really? With who?” Carson walked around until he was in your eyeline. He was trying not to act surprised, but you could see it even better with him in front of you that he was. His tone didn’t come off judgemental though and if it did you’d have a few things you could throw back at him. He couldn’t really say anything when you had remained silent on all his flings and relationships. 

“His name’s Harry. I met him on tinder.” You shrugged, being honest but trying not to appear too excited about the whole thing. Carson didn’t need to know you thought about Harry before you went to sleep, or that you spent a good half an hour on the phone with your friends squealing about your date with him.

“That’s great.” Carson’s reply seemed genuine and he held that kind smile that you fell in love with. “How was it? Did he treat you right?”

“It was really good, actually,” you paused your unpacking and looked at your husband, seeing the kindness in his eyes as he listened attentively to what you were saying. You wished he’d look like that all the time. “He was the perfect gentleman and we’re going on another date next week.”

“He must’ve really liked you then,” he teased. 

Carson was just joking and being quite civil about the entire thing, but you still felt that churning in your stomach. It would never feel normal talking about a date with someone else, even if it was your date instead of his now. 

“I guess so. It was only one date though.”

“Did you sleep together?” Then came the dreaded question. 

You both agreed that you had to disclose when you slept with another person and a condom always had to be used. No details had to be shared and it was preferred that there weren’t any, but for your own health and safety, you had to share it with each other. It only really mattered when you two were having sex with each other, which, with work and Carson’s busy schedule with other people, only happened once a month if that on your scheduled weekend together. 

Opening the marriage seemed to completely eradicate that part of your relationship and while you were unsatisfied, you couldn’t really find it in yourself to try and change that. Not with Carson at least. 

“No. You know I’d tell you if we did.” You didn’t really want to talk about it anymore, not when this conversation was ruining your once-happy mood.

“I know,” Carson replied softly, moving forward to place his hands on your hips. “I love you, you know that. I hope you find some joy in Harry, or whoever. Whatever makes you happy, y/n. That’s all I want for you.”

That felt like the biggest load of shit ever but you chose not to say that.

So you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to remember when you used to do it and not feel a sense of dread. “I love you too.”

//

You went on a few dates with Harry. You tried to plan things around when Carson was busy so you wouldn’t be stuck at home thinking about what he was doing and that seemed to do the trick because you hadn’t thought about him once on any of the dates you had with Harry. 

Things had progressed to a goodbye kiss then a hello kiss when you decided to be a little brave and greet him with one when he picked you up one Saturday morning. And God Harry just knew how to kiss. Even a peck was delicious. His mouth was so soft and sweet and the way he held your face or your waist while kissing you made your entire body light on fire. The more time you spent with him, the more desperate you were becoming to sleep with him.

But Harry was such a gentleman. You didn’t want anything serious and he knew that and yet he hadn’t made the first move. Kissing you was as far as he got and when things started to get a little heated when you two said goodbye, it would always end far too prematurely for your liking. 

In your head, a lot of men just wanted to have sex and most of the time did anything and everything to get there before moving on once their post-nut clarity hit. That’s kind of what you expected from Harry. Someone so good-looking and out of your league could find sex easily so you assumed he’d be eager to sleep with you. That was part of the allure, wasn’t it? To sleep with a married woman? The nasty, scandalous thrill of being with someone that belonged to someone else.

Yet Harry never treated you like that, in fact, he didn’t even bring up your marriage unless you started the conversation. Harry just treated you like someone genuinely interested in getting to know you. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

It was only your third date. This conversation should’ve come up earlier, maybe even on one of the many text conversations or calls you had, but you were a little caught up in his charm and romance to think about it then and you wanted to see his reaction in person. In the very beginning you weren’t even sure if you’d be seeing him again but now that you were up to date three and he just never brought up the fact that you were married… well you wanted to know why. He knew your marriage was open but you didn’t quite understand why was he okay with it? There had to be a reason, right? 

“Of course you can.” He leaned back against the chair and tucked his elbow on the edge of the balcony you two were sitting at. It was a picturesque little cafe overlooking a river and it truly felt like you two were on some romantic holiday. The sun was gorgeous even despite the cold breeze and Harry looked effortlessly handsome. 

“Why do you… I don’t know how to put it.” You sat a bit straighter in your chair, fiddling with the rings on your fingers. Your wedding ring. You weren’t sure why you still wore it on your dates with Harry, but it was a habit and you were married. “You never bring up Carson or the fact that I’m married and I want to know why…”

“Why I don’t care?” He asked, finishing off your sentence. 

“Yeah…” You nodded, “I guess I just don’t get it. You’re a lot younger than me-”

“I’m 27 and it’s only five years.” He corrected, looking quite amused by your comment. Five years was a big gap when he was younger than you, at least you thought so. 

“Still.” You pressed, “You’re young and I’m married. I just don’t understand why you’re choosing to go out with me and not someone else. And the fact that you’re okay with my marriage it just… I don’t know.” You looked away for a moment, needing to break free from his eye contact so you weren’t completely swept up in it. “I’m not sure if I’d be the same. I’m not the same and I’m the one who’s married.”

“I’ve been married before…” 

Well, you certainly didn’t expect that.

“What?” Your eyes widened and Harry nearly laughed at how shocked you were.

“I was only 20 at the time and it was stupid to say the least but we were happy and in love and marriage seemed like the answer to all our problems.” He smiled at the memory, tracing his finger around the rim of his water glass as he thought back to that time in his life. 

“And it wasn’t?”

“No.” He chuckled, sighing while running a hand through his hair. “Marriage caused more problems than it was worth. Steph and I were broke and both in school. We could barely afford our degrees let alone rent and it just caused so many arguments. Too many arguments. We still loved each other and we made it work but over time… the love faded.” Harry shrugged. This felt like too intense of a conversation for breakfast, but you weren’t really expecting to find out about a marriage. 

“Wow…” You breathed. “I’m sorry. Um, how long were you two married?”

“Three years. We were just too young and going through too many changes. In the end, we were more like roommates than husband and wife. Didn’t have sex for the last six months because we were too busy working and emotionally disconnecting from each other.” He looked out to the water, turning back to finish off his point. “Anyway. What I’m trying to say is that shit happens. Relationships aren’t clear-cut. I can tell you’re not just trying to get some exciting thrill by cheating on your husband so as far as I’m concerned it’s just you and me.” Harry bumped his foot against yours under the table, smirking ever so slightly. “If that changes I’m sure you’ll let me know.”

Harry spoke about it in such a respectful way. You imagined it was far messier than he made it out to be, but he didn’t blame Steph or attack her character to make himself the good guy in all of it. It was refreshing and mature. Was it bad that him being married before only made him more attractive?

Maybe it was because you now knew that he understood you. 

“That’s a very… refreshing outlook, Harry.”

“Refreshing?” He chuckled, “No. Realistic.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table, nudging your foot again. “And to answer your other question, the reason I’m out with you and not ‘somebody else’ is because I like you. I told you that on our very first date and I’ll say it again. I like you. Simple.”

“You act like things are so easy.” You laughed, blushing at his honesty. 

“They can be.” He reached for your hand, threading your fingers together before squeezing. “It feels easy with you.”

Yeah… it did. 

To make things worse… or better? his admission only made you more insatiable for him. Nothing he said was remotely casual, but it had also been a long time since you were dating. Aside from Carson, only one other man had touched you, so you didn’t really have a good gauge on navigating new beginnings or sex with a new person. You knew how to please a man but all your skills were honed in on one man. 

So when Harry offered to host dinner at his house for your next date, your stomach was a mixture of nerves and pure excitement. You hadn’t been there before, but with his invitation to stay the night, you didn’t really care what his place looked like, just that he had a nice clean bed to fuck you on. 

You never thought you’d be in this position, but you also never thought you’d be in an open marriage with a man you imagined building a family with. You didn’t see that happening now, but what you did see was you enjoying yourself and getting to explore another man for the first time in years.

Harry wouldn’t have just invited you to spend the night if he wasn’t interested in sleeping with you. He didn’t fit into the dump-and-run stereotype you created in your head, but he sure as hell wasn’t uninterested in sex. He practically oozed it from his fucking pores. 

“Y/n!” Harry beamed, opening the door with a big charming grin. He looked gorgeous and you were taken aback at just how good-looking he was. He told you to dress casually and while he matched the criteria with a pair of jeans and a loose white button-up, he looked anything but casual. 

“Hi,” you smiled, stepping inside. You barely made it into the doorway before he grabbed your overnight back from your shoulder, slung it on his and then cupped your face to bring you in for a kiss. You gasped a little into his mouth, humming when you relaxed into it and grabbed onto the sides of his mouth to reciprocate. 

It felt so young kissing like this; languid and passionately right in the open doorway of his house where anyone who drove or walked past could see. But you didn’t really care who saw when he was nudging you against the doorway and crowding you with his body. It wasn’t an innocent kiss that’s for sure. 

His mouth moved expertly against yours, tongue sliding against the seam of your mouth until it was brushing against yours. He grabbed onto your waist, pulling you flush against him until he was consuming every part of you. It was delirious the way he sucked on your tongue and groaned at the taste of your mouth. 

If this was setting the tone for the evening, you could barely wait. 

“Did you miss me or something?” You joked, breathing heavily as the kiss broke. 

He smiled, nodding while running his thumb over your mouth. He dragged his eyes over your body, taking in your nice fitting jeans and top with the most perfect amount of cleavage he could die. You were radiant. “Very much so.” 

God.

“Come in, love. It’s cold out.” Harry stepped out of the way properly this time, closing the door behind you while you looked around his entranceway. 

“Shoes off?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” 

Harry walked you straight through to his living area. It was a warm, inviting home with soft lighting and lots of texture. He had a musical influence throughout but in the most tasteful way ever. Posters, vinyls and a gorgeous record player front and centre in his living room. His style was envying and you wished Carson would let you do even half the things Harry had done to his house. 

You could see yourself being very comfortable here. 

“Your house is gorgeous, Harry.” You complimented, looking around the space in awe. 

“Thank you.” He gushed, setting your bag down on one of his armchairs before walking into the kitchen. “I originally hired an interior designer then ended up picking all her opposite choices. I think I did an okay job.”

“I think so.” You agreed, following him to the island bench. The entire house was fragrant. It was a mixture of some citrusy candle, whatever delicious dish was in the oven and his cologne. It was intoxicating. “Ugh and it smells so good in here. What is that?” you practically moaned.

“Alfredo chicken pasta.” Harry mused, grabbing a bottle of red from his wine fridge. “I know you like it. Thought I should try and impress you for our first at home date.”

“So far it’s working. Just need to wait until it’s in my mouth for the final verdict.” You replied, pressing your hip to the bench while looking at him. “Can’t give you a raving review before I’ve tried it, can I?”

If Harry set the tone with the kiss, you set the tone with your words and those flirty eyes of yours. He pressed his tongue into his cheek, nearly audibly moaning at the double entendre. Harry had been holding back on how badly he wanted you since the first date. 

There was an instant fire between you. Chemistry he had been wanting to act upon for weeks. But he knew this was the first relationship for you since your husband suggested opening your marriage and he didn’t want to push things. You two spoke about it extensively after the third date when you wanted to clear the air to figure out what Harry got from this. 

Harry got pure pleasure. To him it was simple. He enjoyed your company and you seemed genuine in what you told him about your situation, so why wouldn’t he pursue things with you?

“You’re a smart woman.” Harry smirked, pouring the red wine into both wine glasses he had set on the bench before your arrival. “Actions speak louder than words, don’t they?” The way he looked at you nearly had you sweating. 

“It’s an age-old saying, after all.” You mused, thanking him once he passed you a glass. “To us?”

“To our first night together.” He clinked his glass against yours, eliciting a smile that had you trying to hide how nervous he truly made you feel. It had been a while since you got butterflies in the presence of a man. 

“Now, tell me all about your day. Must’ve been pretty relaxing if you had so much time to get all pretty for me.” He teased, reaching out to pluck at the hem of your shirt. 

“Yeah right.” You snorted, jumping straight into all the problems you encountered during your work day. 

Dinner went perfect as it usually did. You both laughed and drank and shared a delicious meal. By the time dessert came, Harry had moved from his chair opposite you to sit right beside you, deciding to play a game with the few mini dishes he made. He didn’t really explain why he chose to make multiple options, only that you had to guess what each one is. 

You weren’t really going to stop him from feeding you, were you? 

“Okay keep your eyes closed.” He prompted, walking over to the table with the long plate housing the mini desserts. 

“Okay! Okay they’re closed.” You shuffled in your chair, trying not to sneak a peek even if you wanted to. 

“Keep them closed.” He warned again, his arm brushing yours as he set the plate onto the table. 

“They are.” You defended. 

“How many fingers?” Harry sat right next to you, waving two fingers in front of your face. 

“Harry!”

“Okay.” He laughed. Harry grabbed one of the dessert spoons and took a small chunk from the first dessert before bringing it close to your face. “Any guesses?”

“Smells warm.” You guessed, breathing in the delicious cinnamon-or was it caramel? “Caramel?”

“Very good, Angel.” He praised, unintentionally making your breath hitch. That little bit of praise hit you right in the belly, making a swarm of butterflies flutter all over. “Open your mouth.”

Shit. If only he was asking you to open your mouth for something else. 

You did as instructed and widened your mouth, rubbing your palms up and down your thighs. He brought the spoon to your mouth, letting you suck it clean before removing it. “Do you have a guess?”

“Mmh.” You hummed softly, savoring the taste of the dessert you had on your first date. “Sticky date pudding?”

“Atta girl!” He cheered. “Well done.”

If he praised you one more time… god you almost felt pathetic at how turned on you were getting. And over food. 

“Can I open my eyes now?” You whispered, wanting to look at him. 

“Nope. Next one.” He took a spoon from the next dessert and repeated the same movements, holding it in front of your nose so you could smell it first. “What can you smell?”

“Custard maybe? Vanilla?” 

“Yeah… on the right track.” He mused, “open up.” Then once again he fed you the spoon. 

“Oh that’s so good.” You practically moaned, feeling his thumb brush against your mouth to wipe away a bit of custard. He sucked his thumb clean of it, watching you enjoy the dessert. Your moans of appreciation were hitting him harder than he thought they would but he just couldn’t help himself. You were moaning over something he made. He could only imagine what you’d sound like moaning over his cock or his mouth. “Is it… like a custard croissant cake or pudding? Whatever you call it.”

“You know your desserts. I’m impressed.”

“We had it on our second date, Harry.” And that’s when it clicked. “Are these desserts we’ve had on our dates?” 

“Maybe. Depends if you can guess the last one. Now open up pretty girl.” At his last instruction you opened your mouth and your eyes at the same time, looking right at him. “Heyy. That’s cheating.” He complained, feeding it to you. 

There was something erotic about the way you sucked that spoon clean, even going as far as plucking it from Harry’s fingers so you could get all the chocolate from it. “I knew it was chocolate pudding before you even fed it to me.” You whispered, looking down at the nicely plated dish. “Did you really make dishes we’ve had on our dates?”

“Maybe.” He repeated, scanning his eyes along your side profile. “Too much?”

No. Fuck, you were about ready to jump his bones. 

“No.” You shook your head and set the spoon down. “This is… this is really thoughtful. Thank you.”

It was romantic. Everything about this date was romantic. 

“You’re welcome.” Harry murmured, eyes flickering down to your mouth. A playful smile emerged on his mouth and you could just tell something was up. 

“What?” You chuckled. 

“You’ve got something here.” He reached out to cup your face, swiping your mouth clean like he did before. “See? Must’ve liked the chocolate pudding.” 

Before he had a chance to lick it clean himself, you grabbed his hand and brought his thumb to your mouth. His lips parted and his eyes darkened as he watched you wrap your lips around it, sucking on it gently. 

“It’s good…” you whispered, eyes fluttering when he cupped your jaw. The heat rising in the room was almost unbearable. Every second felt like an hour, every flick of his eyes between your own and your mouth like a century. The touch of his pinky grazing your neck had you shivering and all you wanted-no, craved was his mouth on yours. You bit your lip, releasing it with a pop before breathing out a soft laugh. “So are you going to kiss me or-”

You couldn’t say another word because Harry had already slid his hand back to thread through your hair and pulled you right in for a kiss. You whimpered as your lips met in a soft kiss. It started gently, but as the seconds went by and your hands ended up in his hair, it was getting hot and heavy. 

“Harry…” you sighed, breaking when you needed to breathe. 

“God I love kissing you.” He murmured, tipping your head back so he could kiss along your jaw towards your neck. 

“I…” you swallowed thickly while rubbing your hands down his neck towards his shirt buttons. You were desperate to see more of his skin. To feel more of it. “I want you.”

Harry paused, breathing heavily while pulling back to look at you. His lips were already swollen; all pink and yummy looking and his eyes had this dark look in them. It was a look you were sure you had given him countless times. When your heavy kisses got cut short or when you were forced to say goodnight when you really wanted to invite him in. You were sure you were giving it to him now. 

“I want you. Really fucking bad.” He admitted, reaching to push your hair back from your face. “I just don’t want to rush you, baby. I didn’t invite you over expecting anything and-shit.” Harry’s eyes widened as you bit the bullet and ripped your shirt off before putting it down on your lap. 

You were everything he imagined you’d be. No. You were better. Gorgeous in every way and in one of the prettiest bras he had ever seen. You could’ve worn anything though and he still would’ve thought that. But Jesus.  

“You’re not rushing me.” You whispered, “but I am wearing matching underwear so you can rush that if you want to…”

Harry swooped in again, holding your face in both hands to kiss you. “I want to.” He practically moaned, “but I’m not rushing anything with you. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

“Good.” You smiled softly, sliding your palms over his chest before undoing the top button. “Good.” You barely whispered the word before kissing him again. 

Harry pulled you closer by your hips, nudging your shirt to the ground so your legs thread into each other. He ran his hands over your torso, your waist and your arms while you worked on unbuttoning his shirt. His skin was warm and soft and you were addicted to the feeling of his chest hairs against your hands. 

He undid your pants, draping the zipper down before making the executive decision to stand up and force you up as well with his hands on your hips. Your pants and top fell to the floor with ease and he was quick to push the dessert plate and cutlery out of the way so he could pick you up and set you on the edge of the table. 

He was obsessed with how your body felt in his hands and under his lips and he wanted to explore every inch of you. He let his mouth trail along your collarbones and neck, down to the clevage spilling from your bra. You were so soft and sweet, so plush in his hands. Harry never wanted this to end and it had barely started. He hadn’t even tasted you yet…

“You’re so goddamn beautiful, y/n.” Harry breathed, taking a moment to just look at you. He reached in to kiss you gently while massaging your thighs, sliding his fingers so close to the edge of your underwear without brushing them at all. “Can I touch you?” 

“Yes.” You nodded eagerly, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. That was when you caught sight of the twinking diamond on your ring finger. The reminder that despite all verbal permission given by your husband as per your arrangement, you were still going to sleep with another man while married. “Can I ask a favour, though. Before we… do anything?”

“Of course.” He urged, eyes softening. “Anything. What is it?”

His gaze was so soft… so endearing. Harry showed more care for what you were saying than your husband did in the months he was off dating other people. Probably for months before that too. 

You breathed out heavily, heart thumping in your ears as you pulled your ring finger off and played with it in your hands. “Will you put this in your pocket? I don’t want it on for this. I just want it to be you and me.”

“I’ll keep it safe.” Harry promised, holding his palm flat for you to put the ring on. “Even if you wore it, it would still be you and me, y/n.” He assured, sliding the ring into the tiny pocket at the front of his jeans. 

“It wouldn’t.” You whispered, smiling softly while reaching forward to kiss him again. “It is now, though.”

Harry moaned into the kiss, pulling you closer to him so he had better access to you. Then he went back to just touching you. Caressing you. He palmed at your breasts and your thighs and your belly… everywhere he could. 

Carson knew how to make you cum, but Harry didn’t and that was almost better. He didn’t skip through to the end, to what he knew would work. No, Harry took his sweet time running his hands and his mouth over your body, trying to figure out what you liked best. He wanted to memorise the little jerks or squeezes of your thighs the prettiest soft whimpers if he touched you just so. 

Harry loved the first time he slept with someone knew. It was a new experience and an entirely new set of likes and dislikes for him to explore. And after you dressed up so nice for him and wore what would’ve had to be the sexiest lingerie he had ever seen, Harry couldn’t have been more excited. He had been waiting for this since the moment he met you face to face. 

“What do you like?” Harry breathed, smoothing his hands over your stomach up towards your breasts. They slipped under the cups of your bra to push it above your nipples so he could pinch them in both hands. “Tell me. Please.” He was almost desperate, needing to know how he could please you.

“I like what you’re doing now. I like…” You swallowed, whimpering ever so slightly when he pinched your right nipple a little harder, “I like when you look at me…”

“What else?” Harry murmured, keeping his eyes laced with yours as he dipped down to tug at your nipple with his teeth instead. He soothed the ache with his tongue; all hot and slick. All you could think about was his tongue being somewhere else. Getting head was a rare commodity in your house. Carson was quite decent at it, actually, but it was one of those things where it took forever for you to cum. You both worked demanding jobs so when you got time or needed release, it was usually something quick to get the job done. 

But god, you’d kill to be eaten out. 

“Fuck…” you gasped, running a hand through his soft hair. While you were nervous about sleeping with a new man, there was one thing marriage life did prepare you for; saying what you wanted. You had no problems telling Harry exactly what you liked. “I like dirty talk too. I like to be praised…” you had to pause when he sucked on your nipple again, releasing it with a pop that had you shivering when the air hit the wetness left behind by his tongue. “Degraded too…”

“Yeah?” Harry cocked his head, smirking like you just unlocked something evil in him. “Anything you don’t like to be called?”

“Stupid. I don’t like being called a bitch, either.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, pretty girl,” Harry assured, tucking his fingers into the waistband of your pretty underwear and sliding them side to side against your skin. Harry would’ve loved to get you completely bare for him, but there was something so sexy about fucking you while you were wearing the lingerie. You wore it for a reason, it would be a shame to let it lay on the floor for the entire night, especially when you looked so fucking good at it.  “Tell me more. I want to know what I can do to you.”

“It’s too easy if I give you all the answers, Harry. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” You teased, sitting up from the table so you could run your palms all over his chest and up to around his neck.

He was just glorious. All tanned and muscular with littered hairs that made him look so much more manly. You could only imagine what his pecs would look like all sweaty while he fucked you. You hoped he’d hover over your head so you could lick at his chest and tug at that sinful cross necklace between your teeth. 

“Can I tell you what I want to do?” He proposed, hooking one finger on the underside of your underwear this time, moving it towards your mound but not down enough to feel how wet you had grown for him. He was so close to dipping his fingers into your crease. So close to being able to please you. 

“Please…” You breathed, eager and so damn desperate for anything.

“I want to fuck you while you’re wearing this,” he snapped at the fabric, maintaining direct eye contact with you. Oh, Jesus. Between his eye contact and his sultry tone, you were going dizzy at how direct he was being. You loved it. “Then I want to strip you naked and watch you bounce on my cock. Forwards… backwards.” He groaned at the thought and grabbed onto your ass, firmly pulling you closer to the edge of the dining table until his lips brushed with yours. You could feel the hard length of his cock press against your pussy, promising you that it would be deep inside you by the end of the night.

“I want to make your ass red so when you go home to your husband, he’ll know I fucked you better than he ever could.” 

It was another promise, that Harry would indeed fuck you better than Carson ever could. 

“But first…” Harry bucked his hips against yours, keeping his grip on your hips tight so you couldn’t wiggle away at his directed grinds over your clit. He kissed you gingerly, watching your eyes haze over as you whimpered softly. Between his cock and his words, your head was spinning. “I need to taste you. I’ve thought about nothing else but having my face between your thighs for weeks now.”

Harry grabbed your hands from behind his neck and pressed them down to the table on either side of your hips, bumping his nose with yours. “Do you like the idea of any of that, darling?”

You nodded eagerly, loving the sound of all of it. “Uhuh. All of it…” you inhaled a sharp breath, loving the feeling of his hands moving to knead at your inner thighs, “There is one thing though. Something I want.”

“Tell me.” He murmured, eyes wide and eager. He just couldn’t keep his hands off you. He was grabbing your thighs and your hips, craving the warmth of your body. 

“I want your cock in my mouth. I’ve been thinking about that since our first date.”

Harry smirked and you could feel the way his cock jerked right against you. It was big. You wanted to choke on it. 

“That can be arranged.” 

He reached in to kiss you again, groaning like a starved man while wrapping his palm around the back of your neck to guide you back down against the table. When you were flat he stood back up and stripped his shirt off fully, leaving him completely shirtless. 

Then he did something unexpected. With a shit-eating grin on his face he pulled up the chair he kicked away earlier and sat on it, shuffling close to the table like he was getting ready to eat a three-course meal. You were going to make fun of him for it, but you didn’t really get a chance when he slung your legs over his shoulder and nuzzled his nose right into the crotch of your underwear. 

“Jesus.” He moaned, eyes fluttering closed. Your jaw went completely slack at what you were witnessing. Never had a man looked so fucking hungry to eat you out. He was practically delirious and all he had done was inhale how sweet you were. Harry was looking forward to having your scent all over him. “You smell so fucking good, y/n.” He looked up at you again, hooking the very tip of his finger into the crotch of your underwear and sliding it up and down along your crease. “But do you taste as good as you smell?”

You nearly whined like some pathetic puppy, but you had to keep that inside as you didn’t want to appear too eager. Too easy. Truthfully, you were easy though. Harry was able to turn you on easier and quicker than you ever thought. And all over a little dirty talk and a slight obsession with eating you out. 

“Why don’t you find out?” You hiked yourself up on your elbows, bringing your feet off his shoulders and onto the edge of the table so you were spread wider for him. 

“Oh I will,” he pulled your underwear to the side, breath hitching at the first sight of your bare pussy. “You’re so gorgeous, y/n. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long… long time.”

When his mouth finally grazed your clit, you fell back against the table. You couldn’t hold yourself up even if you wanted to, not when he started eating you out like a damn starved animal. Harry moaned like you were the best thing he ever tasted and touched everywhere. He wasn’t clit happy or labia happy and he certainly didn’t miss-interpret one part of your anatomy for another.

“Fuck Harry… oh God.” You whined, pulling at his hair with both hands before suddenly letting go because you hadn’t asked if you could. You didn’t even know if he liked it. “Do you-” You could barely breathe let alone talk. “Can I pull your hair? Is it okay?”

“God, yes. As hard as you want,” Harry moaned like the idea of his hair being pulled was orgasmic. “Don’t stop, y/n. I promise.” He grabbed your hand and guided it back to his hair, giving you a reassuring nod before going back to your clit. 

Harry knew exactly what he was doing. How to tease, how to take advantage of your entire body to make you feel good. He kissed and nipped over your thighs and used his hands to squeeze your breasts and play with your nipples. It was all so wet and sloppy and you felt like your entire body was on fire. 

“God you taste… shit-” Harry broke for air, spitting directly over your pussy then spreading it around with two fingers, “you taste so fucking good, y/n.” He used one of those wet fingers and slid it inside you, pumping it a few times while slurping against your clit again. “Never thought a pussy could be so sweet… ‘m addicted.” 

He slid his second finger in easily, fucking you with both digits so good your arousal was echoing around the room. His high ceilings did wonders of making sound travel. Even with all the rugs and soft furnishing, the softest moan sounded so much louder. And you were anything but soft. Your noises were loud and unforgiving and every single one of them was going straight to his cock.

It also meant you heard every groan Harry made. Every single sound of pleasure he was feeling just eating you out. It was possibly one of the sexiest things you had ever experienced. A man with his head buried between your thighs moaning and being so fucking enthusiastic because he gained genuine pleasure out of it. He liked it. Harry ate you out like it was his favourite thing on planet earth. 

“You okay? You good?” He checked in on you, looking up at your gaped mouth and thrown-back head. You only moaned in response so Harry reached for your hand and threaded your fingers, squeezing them to get your attention. “Hey. Look at me.” He nudged, not happy with your lack of response.

You forced yourself to look down at him, nearly shaking at how intense his eye contact was. His (now) three fingers were still steadily fucking into you, but he had taken a much-needed break from using his mouth to check on you. “Good?”

“Yes. So so good. So good.” You nodded eagerly, trying to guide his face back to you with the hand still in his hair. “Just-please. I need it.”

“You need it?” He grinned, cocking his head ever so slightly. “Is it that good, baby? Do I suck your pretty clit so good that you need it?”

“Yes... Oh yes...”

“I need it too.” He admitted, dipping back in to swirl his tongue around his fingers, right where your poor needy hole was dripping with arousal. “You just taste so fucking good, y/n. I’d have you on my face every night if I could.”

You seemed to like that idea because he could feel you clench around his fingers, knees bumping into each other so his face was wedged between your thighs. Your underwear were a complete mess too; all soaked and creamy. Harry wanted to wring them with his teeth and suck them dry, but with the real thing pressed right against his nose, he didn’t have to. 

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Letting me eat your cunt every night? Every morning, even? Would you let me wake you up with my head between your thighs? Let me eat you for a midnight snack. Because I would.” Harry moaned as he wedged his mouth over your clit again, kissing and licking at it, spitting at it so it was even wetter. You were practically a sobbing mess above him too and that only encouraged him to say whatever he wanted.

“Y/n, I’d worship you and this pretty pussy.” 

He slid his fingers out just long enough to smack them against your clit. It was gentle at first and he quickly soothed the sharp sting with his tongue. But he felt the way you jerked around his head, how your hips lifted off the table to get more. 

“Is it okay?” He breathed, looking up for an answer. This time, you were already looking right at him. You had been from the moment he left your aching cunt empty and needy because you wanted to see what he’d do. And what a sight. You were sure you’d never forget the image of him smacking your clit then making out with it like a starved man. It was ridiculous. 

Harry Styles’ mouth would kill you one day. You knew it would. 

“More than okay.” You nodded, bringing your intertwined fingers up to your breast so his large hand would squeeze against your nipple. “Do it again.”

He followed your request quickly and spanked over your pussy again, this time a little harder and with more surface area of his fingers. You gasped out a moan, back lurching off the table as they hit your swollen clit. He quickly soothed the burn with his tongue, this time blowing on your sensitive skin for a moment before languidly tracing swirls over your clit.

“Again. Harder.” You gurgled out, clenching your fist into his hair when he smacked your clit again. Harder. He slid those three fingers right back into you again, curling and fucking them roughly right against your g-spot. “Oh God… Harry!”

“Oh, you’re such a good little slut letting me spank you like this. Right over your little clit too, hm? Who knew such a pretty girl would like such dirty things.”

The dirty talk… you were going to pass out.

“You’re taking it so well, y/n” He cooed, pulling his fingers out to spank you again before they returned deep into your pussy. It was dizzying. The way he spanked you then fucked you then spanked you again like some quick endless loop. He was careful not to hit you too many times, but whatever he was doing was making you reach your orgasm faster than any other oral you had received. 

“‘M gonna cum, Harry. Please just…” You pulled his face back to your clit, urging him closer with your hand.

Harry didn’t argue and did what you seemed to like the most; those three fingers stroking right against your g-spot, one hand on your breast and his mouth sucking right over your clit. It seemed to do the trick too because not even ten seconds later, you were practically lurching off the table while crying out his name through a squirting orgasm. Your hand cemented him to your pussy so he could happily collect as much of your release right in his mouth. 

When you started to calm down, Harry softened his movements and pulled his fingers out of you. He licked them clean then pressed soft kisses all over your thighs and mound, even right on either side of your clit.

“You’re such a good girl, darling. Did so well for me.” Harry praised, squeezing your hand and keeping his eyes on your face as you panted and looked up at the ceiling. 

“God that was…” You swallowed thickly, pushing your sweaty hair from your forehead so you could look down at him. 

“What?” He nudged, smirking while kissing your inner thigh. “Good? Is that the word you’re looking for?”

“Your ego’s too big for your own good.” You laughed softly, sitting up so you could guide his mouth to yours. Harry was still smiling into the kiss until he relaxed into it. That’s when it turned heated again. The taste of your pussy and his mouth; your mouth too… it was all too much. “But yeah…” you sighed, “it was good.”

He stood up from his chair so you weren’t hunched down to kiss him and the moment you had access to his jeans, you started working on undoing them. Harry hissed into the kiss when you applied pressure to his hard bulge and he had to break free just to breathe at how sensitive he was. His cock felt harder than ever before. He didn’t think he had ever been this turned on and sore in his entire life.

This chemistry with you… it was otherworldly. Supernatural almost. A compelling pull like his cells were trying to fuse with yours. 

And you were married. He had to push that thought out of his head because only a few weeks into this and he was already considering asking you to leave your husband. 

“I need you, baby.” He panted, grabbing your hips tightly as you pushed his jeans and boxers down his thighs to free his cock. “Shit-”

You wrapped your hand around his cock while he helped you get them off the rest of the way. You couldn’t help but look down between you, needing to see how pretty he was. And pretty he was. Long and decently thick, so heavy in your hand. You knew he’d fill you up so good he’d have you seeing stars. Two fingers were usually enough to prep you for sex, sometimes even one depending on how turned on you were.

You were glad he chose three.

“Your cock is so pretty, Harry.” You complimented, squeezing your palm around him. Your eyes filtered between your working hand and his face, obsessed with how hooded his eyes became just from your hand. “So big too… I need you inside me. ‘M so empty.”

Harry didn’t quite realise when you said you liked dirty talk that you liked it both ways, but he rather enjoyed the filth spilling from your mouth. He found it cute that you could barely string words together when he was pleasuring you, but like this? It was the biggest fucking turn-on.

“Bend me over the table…” You begged softly, nipping at his jaw until you reached the shell of his ear. His cock was oozing precum down over your hand. He liked what you were saying. “Please. Make me squirt again…”

“Come here.”

Harry pulled you off the table and with a rough hand, spun you around to bend you over the table. You squealed as he spanked your ass without thought, spreading your cheeks wide to spit down over you. He planned to fulfil his promise of fucking you with this lingerie on and now that he was looking at your pretty holes bent over with the tiny string of lace tucked to the side… he couldn’t have been more excited.

“You’re just so hot, y/n.” Harry groaned, spanking your other cheek just to watch your ass jiggle. “So goddamn hot.”

“I’m hotter with a cock in me.” 

Your mouth earned you another spank, this time directly over your sensitive cunt. You squealed and jumped in place, but Harry easily soothed the ache with a friendly grind of his cock against your clit. Your knees buckled at the direct stimulation but Harry made sure you kept still by pressing his hand to your lower back.

“I need to get a condom,” he murmured to himself, suddenly remembering the dreaded protection right when his cock was so close to being inside you. 

“Hurry.” You gasped, forehead pressed to the table. 

“I will. I will.”

Harry fished the condom from his jeans pocket, placed there earlier in the evening in hopes of sleeping with you tonight. It was a just-in-case for something spur of the moment, though he didn’t start the night plotting a way to get you in his bed. He was glad now that he put that condom in there just in case, especially when you were waiting for him. 

Once the condom was on, he was right back in position. A hand on the small of your back and the other guiding the head of his cock to your entrance. Harry didn’t wait or tease, he just pressed right into you slowly and deliberately. 

“Shit-”

“Oh goddd…”

Your curses echoed at the same time, both as desperate as each other. Harry just stretched you so perfectly, on the cusp of too much and the best type of full possible. It helped that you were so damn wet, so turned on that he was easily able to push inside you. 

“God, baby. You're so tight.” Harry hissed, reaching forward to press a kiss to the middle of your back. You couldn’t even respond to his compliment when your body was still getting accustomed to a new man. A new cock. All you could do was moan and claw at the table, clenching around him. “Hey. You okay?” Harry checked, sweeping your hair back so he could see your face.

“Uhuh. Just… shit.” You whimpered, squeezing around him again. He cursed at how tight you were and collected your hair in a loose hold around his fist. 

“Y’sure?” He mused, pressing a kiss right in between your shoulder blades. “You’re trembling beneath me, darling.”

“Fuck me.” You begged. He was so deep in your belly and it was torturous having him so far inside you and not moving at all. “Please Harry just-”

He didn’t need to be convinced any further. Not with how sweet you sounded and how wet you were around him. You were a fucking dream and that only became more apparent as Harry started thrusting into you. He started with a slow but steady grind, fucking you with hard pressure like he was trying to memorise every inch of your pussy. 

“God baby. You feel so good.” Harry moaned, building up the speed with a good grip on your hips. He hooked his thumb into the small lace string of your underwear, pulling it to the side so he could watch his cock disappear into your wet cunt. And you were so wet. Your arousal coating his length and turning creamy the longer he fucked you. It was obscene. 

Mostly though, he was watching your face. Your cheek pressed to the table, mouth gaped open and eyes screwed shut as you moaned the-fuck the prettiest noises he had ever heard. He had barely shown you his best tricks and you were a mess beneath him. Had your husband really been lacking this entire time? Been leaving you so unsatisfied that a bit of doggy had you unravelling? 

He couldn’t bear the thought of you having to take care of yourself because your husband couldn’t do it for you. But maybe that was a good thing. Because then Harry would be there for you. He’d give you pleasure you had never experienced in your life. Over and over again. 

Starting with tonight. 

“Feel good baby?” Harry cooed, spanking your ass with a rough touch. 

“Yeah” 

“Yeah?” He repeated, spanking you again on the opposite side. Your whine echoed around the room, as did the sound of the dining table squeaking forward against Harry’s nice floorboards. “Say it, baby. Tell me how I’m doing, hm?”

“So good. God, you fuck me so good.” You moaned, “please- go… go harder. Harder.”

Harry picked up the pace, reaching to wrap your hair around his fist so he could pull your head back. “Moan for me, y/n. Moan my name.” He demanded right in your ear, spanking you twice on the same cheek. 

“Harry.” You cried out, feeling him smile in satisfaction at how pretty you took the pain. So he spanked you again and again as you moaned loudly into the air. 

“That’s it… Good girl. You’re taking it so well…” Harry gritted out, spanking your ass roughly while tightening his hand in your hair. You whined at the sting of your scalp, nearly sobbing at how fast and hard he was fucking into you. “S’like you were made for me, y/n. Just made for my fucking cock.”

He was fucking you so hard, so fucking good that the table kept etching forward and forward. Harry had to keep readjusting his footing and his grip on your hair. He combed his fingers through your hair and wrapped it around his fist, tugging hard when the table slipped forward again. 

But he was persistent and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved. 

“Y’sounds so damn pretty moaning my name, baby. Fucking love how sweet you sound.” 

His words elicited a moan; a filthy pretty moan only exaggerated when he tugged your hair harder. “You’re so big. So good.” You cried, “loveyourcock.”

You were addicted to the way he fucked you, even just the way he felt stretching you out but keeping completely still. It felt like you could almost reach an orgasm just like this with no clit stimulation at all which never happened. Nowadays it was your vibrator or nothing and now here you were one orgasm down and another so damn close. 

Still, you needed your clit touched and you couldn’t really reach it this way. 

The table etched forward once more and right as he pulled back to thrust into you again, the table slid forward making him slip out completely. He effortlessly slid himself back into you to continue, but when it happened a second then a third time you couldn’t help but giggle. Even through the deep pleasure and hazy mind, it was funny. 

“Fuck.” He cursed when his cock bumped against your ass cheek instead of where he actually wanted to be. He tapped it against your clit before grinding there, watching you squirm and let out a choked gasp through your light laugh. 

“I think we may need to switch rooms.” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at him while panting as you desperately tried to catch your breath. He had let go of your hair for a moment, planning on trying to continue until you suggested moving things elsewhere.

Truth be told, Harry jerked one out before you came. He didn’t plan the evening around having sex with you and would’ve been okay if nothing happened at all, but his cock couldn’t control itself around you. Just your presence and your scent could get him hard in no time so he tried to fuck the frustration out before you even got there.

He was glad he did so too because now that he was in the middle of feeling your sweet sweet cunt, he had a lot more stamina going onto his second orgasm. He could have you riding him through two more orgasms before needing to cum himself and fuck did he want to experience you squirting right on his dick. 

“I think so.” He breathed through a laugh and ran his hand through his hair, “c’mere.”

“Mh.” You agreed, standing up on shaky legs and sore hips. Harry grabbed you straight away and helped you turn around to face him. He cupped your face with one hand to guide your mouth to his, deepening it effortlessly while tucking his hands under your thighs so you could jump up and wrap your legs around him. 

You were slightly shaky in his arms, sensitive as he placed you gently on the floor in front of his bed. He broke the kiss to look at you for a moment, panting heavily while brushing his nose against yours. There was something about the look in his eyes that had you crumbling inside. They were soft and almost loving; so full of yearning and desire that you were almost scared to look back. It was overwhelming.

Harry danced his fingers down your neck and shoulder to your arm where the strap of your bra had fallen. Every touch was making you shiver and only causing that ache between your thighs to grow. You felt empty. Cold without his cock inside you. 

“Take this off. I want to see you.” Harry murmured, searching your eyes while waiting for you to nod before he kissed you once more and climbed onto his bed. He shuffled backwards until he was against his headboard, legs wide and cock hard and waiting for you to climb back onto him. 

He never stopped looking at you. Never stopped watching even as he wrapped his own hand around his cock and gave himself a few tugs to the sight of your body becoming bare for him. The prettiest of prettiest lingerie on planet Earth couldn’t compare to the sight of a womans naked body. Your bare, naked body. The soft peaks of your breasts and the way they fell naturally without a bra. The dip of your hips and tummy without the confides of lace. It was glorious. 

Harry could barely contain himself.

“You’re a vision.” Harry awed, jaw clenching like he was trying to control himself from dragging you onto the bed and pinning you down. 

“So are you.” You whispered while crawling towards him on the bed. You let your hands glide up his thighs once you were situated between them, taking the time to look over every inch of his naked body. You were in awe to put it simply and so goddamn attracted to him you were worried sex would never be the same afterwards. 

Because it wasn’t just the pleasure. It was the chemistry. The eye contact. The fact you two had a laugh about him thrusting against your ass cheek instead of inside of you because his table couldn’t handle the pressure. The way you could have that laugh just minutes ago and be back to this. The firey eye contact and his trembling thighs underneath your palms. 

“Can I have a taste…” You breathed, licking your lips at the sight of his cock up against his stomach. From this angle he looked even bigger than before and knowing he was just inside you… fuck. You could barely breathe. “Please?”

Harry groaned and wrapped his hand loosely around your neck, only applying light pressure right beneath your jaw. “Just a little, y/n. For now the only place I want to come is with you coming around me.” 

If only he was bare inside you…

“Okay… just a taste, H.” You nodded, pressing harder against his palm. You wrapped your palm around his cock, loving the sight of his jaw clenching at the touch. “Can I take this off?” You asked, rubbing over his head at the condom. 

“Yeah, baby. Take it off.”

Harry was going to lose his fucking mind. 

You were quick to pull off the condom then wasted no time in dipping down and licking a fat stripe from balls to tip on the underside of him. Harry groaned and collected your hair in his hand so he could see your face. Your eyes fluttered closed at the taste of him and the weight of him on your tongue. 

He was warm and heavy and you could taste yourself right at the base of his cock where your arousal dripped down. You made sure to clean it all up with your tongue, lapping at it while looking at Harry to watch his reaction. He could barely contain himself and with every lick his hand flexed in your hair like he was trying to control himself. 

“You can guide me. I like it when I choke.” You murmured, spitting directly onto his tip before sliding it into your mouth to spread it with your tongue. 

“God, you’re going to be the end of me.” He groaned, hand tightening in your hair with purpose. Harry reached for your spare hand, intertwining your fingers while pulling your mouth off him for a moment. You were like jelly in his hands, compliant as he instructed you to squeeze his hand once if you were okay and twice if he was too rough or you needed a break. More than happy with that arrangement, you agreed and squeezed his hand in preparation for him to guide your mouth down. 

He started to gently maneuver your mouth up and down his length, starting shallow at first before going deeper until he felt the tightness of your throat around him. You choked ever so slightly but squeezed his hand once and enjoyed the feeling of his cock twitch down your throat. 

“Look at me…” Harry breathed, forcing your eyes on his. “That’s it… fuck.” 

The sight had him gasping and moving your mouth over his cock faster. Your pretty little eyes all glistened with tears… God the sight was one of the hottest things he had ever seen. And the way you just took his cock without complaint and even moaned when you gagged around him… it was like you were made for him.

The feeling of his cock filling your throat was like nothing else. There was just something about choking on a man’s dick that got you all squirmy inside. You had always been a relationship girl and a bit of a ‘late bloomer’ according to those who thought losing your virginity in your early 20s was the biggest sin of the century, but that didn’t mean you were inexperienced. 

Your first serious relationship exposed you to things you had always wanted to try. A world of kinks and things you weren’t sure you’d like until you tried them, others you were certain you’d hate until you found out you didn’t. You always considered yourself lucky to have a guy introduce you to sex and provide an environment where you could not only lose your virginity, but experiment without any shame or constraints.

Funny how you ended up married to your next serious relationship after him to a guy who had no interest in anything remotely more exciting than a spank and a sporadic hair pull. You loved Carson enough to be happy with vanilla but fulfilling sex. It wasn’t like it didn’t have any passion, because it did, it just didn’t have this.

What Harry managed to provide you on your first night together (a night far from over as well) Carson couldn’t give you in six years of being together. You weren’t sure you could go back to your old sex life. Not now. 

“You look so hot like this.” You gasped, pulling off to breathe while jacking him off with your spare hand. Your other was still intertwined with one his and you had no plans of changing that. “I love having your cock in my mouth, Harry…” you moaned, reaching in to lick his length once more. “Feels so good.”

“Jesus.” Harry groaned, tensing his hand in your hair. “You’re doing so well, y/n. Such a good little cock sucker, aren’t you?” 

You moaned filthily at his degrade, letting him slide you back down over his cock. Your whole body was on fire. Even with only a little hand holding and hair tugging, you were beyond turned on and empty between your legs. The sight of him was just so beyond sexy, almost too sexy for you to handle. 

His chest was heaving and glistening with sweat. With every pant or moan his abs would contract and his thighs would tremble on either side of your shoulders. You wanted to see him cum so bad. You wanted to watch his jaw contract and his mouth part as he moaned your name. 

“You’re gonna make me cum, y/n.” He warned in this almost whine of a tone. “Need to cum inside you.” 

“I want it in my mouth. Wanna taste you.” You practically pleaded, tapping his tip against your tongue. 

“You’re incredible…” Harry groaned, using his hand on your hair to pull you up towards his mouth. He kissed you hungrily, angling your head in the direction he wanted so he could deepen it. “But…” he panted, breaking just to say that one word before kissing you once more, “I need to…” he nibbled on your lip and grabbed onto the back of your thighs, "… feel you around me when I come.” 

You whimpered as he dragged you in a straddle and pressed your wet cunt directly over his cock in a slow deliberate grind. Fucking hell. You just wanted to slip him in, to feel him bare inside you until you were full of his cum. 

But you couldn’t. And the fact you were half considering letting it happen on your very first sexual experience out of your marriage was insane. It scared you. 

“Condom.” You uttered against his mouth, tugging on his hair ever so slightly. 

“Yeah. Yeah.” He breathed, barely able to concentrate when you dragged your mouth along his jaw and neck. Harry reached for his bedside table and grabbed another condom from the top drawer, returning quickly to kiss you again while blindly unwrapping it. 

But it was like Harry was stuttering. Fumbling to do something as simple as putting a condom on his own cock. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your mouth was so sweet and erotic, nibbling at his bottom lip until all he could think about was how to hold his breath indefinitely so he could kiss you forever. 

And you were growing impatient. The few seconds delay in his movements had you so desperate you leaned back to breathe, took the condom from his hand and rolled it down on his cock in one swift motion. 

“Fuck me, baby.” This time it was Harry’s time to plead. He wound his hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and kissed you again, panting into your open mouth as you guided him to your entrance and dropped down on him once more. 

His cock felt so much bigger from this angle and he felt deeper too even though he was just fucking you so hard his dining room table couldn’t handle the force. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t control the loud whine flooding into his mouth when your clit hit his pubic bone. Or maybe it was because this position was far more intimate than being bent over. 

“You’re so big… feels bigger like this.” You gasped, lulling your head back while grabbing his shoulders for balance so you could start bouncing on him and getting a good rhythm going. 

“I know…” he cooed, squeezing your hips before spanking you quickly. “Show me how much you need it, huh?” Leaning in, Harry ran his mouth along your exposed neck, panting between little bites and licks on your skin, “show me how good m’cock makes you feel.” 

"Love your cock," You whined, already feeling the ache in your thighs as you picked up the speed.

Harry wrapped one arm around you and hugged you tighter while pressing the fingers of his spare hand directly to your clit. And with every bounce, every grind, his fingers stimulated right where you needed it the most. You were already so full with him and now he was giving you the cherry on top so you could finish.

"More... more, please. Need it harder."

"Need it harder?" Harry taunted, hiking his legs up on his feet in a wide position on the bed so he had enough stability to thrust up into you. "Like that?" He chuckled at your cry, squeezing your body in his arm so you stayed exactly where he wanted you.

"Yeah... yeah. Fuck!" you practically sobbed, unable to do anything but grab his hair or shoulders and just take how hard he was fucking into you. His legs were strong and while you were a sobbing, breathless mess above him, Harry wasn't losing momentum at all.

He was sweaty and panting but he never stopped thrusting up into you. At least that's what it felt like. While you gave up and begged for more, Harry was more than happy to take over and give you a fucking you'd never forget.

He thrived being in control. You could tell.

"That's it, y/n. You're taking it so fucking well, y'know that. Just sitting there and taking it like the good little slut you are. My fucking slut..." Harry cooed, dipping down to tug at your nipple. "Got me so fucking close, pretty girl. Just need you to come f'me."

Between his words and lips on your breast... his fingers pressed to your clit and the way his cock was bruising your insides, you couldn't hold on any longer.

“God, Harry. ‘M gonna cum” You cried, trying to warn him of the deep churning in your belly and the trembling in your toes.

"Look at me." He demanded, sliding his hand up into your hair to force your head in his direction. Your eyes fluttered open but despite your vision already hazy, you could clearly see the way his eyes were hooded, pupils wide and hungry. "That's it. Look at me while you cum, baby. Let me see how pretty you look."

Harry pressed his forehead to yours, opened mouths panting and brushed against one another. He watched closely when your mouth gaped wide and your eyes struggled to keep open as your orgasm hit. The way your brows furrowed and your entire body trembled on top of him and he could feel his lap and lower belly become soaked in your release.

It was glorious.

"Good girl." He praised, "Fuck. Fuck!" His words turned to mush when he reached his own orgasm and somehow even pulled you tighter against him so he could feel every inch of your soft skin.

Coming down was all open-mouthed kisses and laboured breaths and this distinct feeling that everything had changed. You two could never go back to casual and you most certainly couldn't look at yourself or your husband the same way ever again.

"I feel bad you only came once." You practically pouted, grabbing another spoonful of pudding to feed it to Harry. "It doesn't really seem fair."

What did seem fair, though, was finishing off the dessert neither of you ate after your intense workout. You were quite enjoying feeding a naked Harry delicious sugary puddings and it just felt morally wrong to leave the dessert sitting there when it was the perfect bridge between round one and two.

"Trust me. I'm more than satisfied." Harry chuckled once swallowing the delicious dessert. He dragged his fingers over your hip, loving how his t-shirt fit your frame. It was so casual and sexy. His clothes had never looked better.

"Well, I hope you're not tired because I'm not and I think I'd like to test your 27-year-old stamina." you shrugged casually, eating the last bite of the sticky date pudding.

"Oh really?" Harry raised his brow and gently took the spoon from your fingers to set them down on the plate. "Two orgasms wasn't enough for you?" He teased, moving the plate out of the way so he could cup your face and gently guide you down onto the bed.

"Mh mh." You shook your head with a smile and clasped your hands around the back of his neck while he adjusted your body to hover over you. "I think at least four..." you curled your leg around his hip and dug your heel right into the pudginess of his bum, "and I wouldn't mind a bit more effort put into making my ass red. You did promise that, didn't you?"

"More effort, huh?" He smirked and grabbed onto the underside of your jaw with a firm grip to pin you to the bed. "You've got no idea what you just started, little girl."

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

Tag List: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @gurugirl @hsonlyangelxo @kkr102 @falloutby

@caynonmoondreams @theskyyabove @sykostyles @harryslittlefreakk @avaaas-world

@littlenatilda @grabiolla @forgetdelaney @hislcstyles @yourdatcrazyweirdo

@elidoho @esnyhoney @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @lillefroe @harrysrockstarsgf

@hrrypinks @justlemmeadoreyou @swagg13r @whatamievendoingonhere @delicatepointofharry

@onlyangellucifer @youcan-nolonger-run @gotdrxnkonu @cheappackofcigerattes @idrawshapesonpeople07

@straightontilmornin @mellamolayla @stilesissaved @ribbonknives @scndsofsummer

@floral-recs @styles.sturniolo @maryjahps @babyfratelli7 @voniikg

@complikyfreak @tswiftsgf @triski73 @michellekstyles @freedomfireflies @tiredinwinter @butdaddyilovehim-hs

*please make sure your settings allow you to be tagged ❤️*

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed! 🤍

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine logan seeing you again

logan x reader

warning: some deadpool x wolverine spoilers. this takes place after the movie. under 1k words.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The apartment was packed jammed with friends and some foes of Wade Wilson. There might have been music playing in the background, but Logan couldn’t tell when his eyes locked with the figure walking through the front door. His heart dropped, he felt sick to his stomach as his eyes fluttered. It had to be a dream but then he quickly came to his senses.

This wasn’t his universe, his world. He was somewhere entirely new. He caught his breath as Wade shouted out an exclamation of joy. Logan watched as he drew up from his seat to greet you with an overzealous hug, pulling you toward the group at the table.  Wade held you rough by the shoulders and grinned. “Look who decided to come out of retirement, conveniently after we,” he pointed to Logan then himself. “Saved the fucking world. Avengers, who? Bunch of assholes, if you ask me.”

“You sound like a man scorn, Wade,” you teased, offering a wave of a hand to your friends. The idiot next to you was right, the whole superhero thing had been a thing of the past. You have been a regular civilian for a few years now and have been loving a more relaxed existence – not being threatened daily was like, nice. “Don’t worry, you’ll see all the details in the movie. Have you meant my little angry beaver, the Wolverine?”

Your head jerked to where the older gentlemen was sitting, and you grinned. “I haven’t had the pleasure. I never met this world’s Logan – we ran in different circles. It’s nice to meet you.”

His heart relaxed and he confidently held out a hand, ignoring the interested glance from Laura. “Nice to meet you.”

“Take a seat next to Logan,” Wade urged, winking over to his new hesitant partner. “I’m sure he can fill you in on all the fun we’ve had together. Tell her about the sex ramp we had in the car that one time.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Logan cursed, telling you to ignore him.

“I usually do,” you laughed, thanking Vanessa for the beer she slid over from her side of the table. Popping it open, you relaxed and asked Logan how this place was treating him. “Must be weird, coming here. It’s like your world, right? Just slightly different?”

“Something like that.”

“Did we know each other back there?”

Your question seemed so invasive and frank – it almost made Logan smile because some people never changed, no matter what universe. Back where he came from, you were such a firecracker little shit. He had his hands full dealing with your bullshit. You were always running towards danger with little regard for your own safety because you had him. He had always been at your side, or at least, trying to catch up but he had always been there for you.

Logan had loved you and you had loved him.

Two reckless mutants.

Then you died and that sent him straight down a barrel of alcohol and indifference, to everyone and everything in his world. Which led to his greatest shame of all, allowing his family to be murdered because he was too busy drinking his sorrows away. He had long forgotten what it felt like to see you smile or hear you laugh, to feel your fingertips on his skin. The weight of your head on his chest as you slept, he never could replicate that feeling and yet, here you were.

A different version of you but God, the same.

“We were friends, really good friends.”

The hint of sadness in his voice was enough for you to understand and maybe not truly, but something had happened. That much was evident and while it might have been silly, you wanted nothing more than to comfort this man next to you. The room seemed to fall quiet, but no one was paying attention, except the girl next to Logan. Your eyes met hers, but she just smiled and looked away. Logan’s eyes were focused on the beer in his hands, but his eyes jerked up when a gentle hand touched the top of his. Your skin ablaze his and it felt wrong to feel like he had once when he didn’t even know you. Not this version of you, a woman he knew nothing about. It didn’t feel right but he wanted nothing more to allow this to go on. To see who you were in this world.

Did he deserve that? After everything that happened.

“Were? I won’t pry but it seems like life has given you a second chance, Logan.” You smiled softly and removed your hand from his, lifting your beer can to him. “You guys saved this world; a second chance is the least the universe can give you. Why not take it?”

Logan chuckled lowly. “The version of you I knew also had a deficiency in reasoning.”

A hard smack landed on his chest, and he laughed, which made you laugh. “Yeah, well, at least I don’t look like that idiot.”

Looking over to where you pointed to Wade, who had decided to show off his hair piece, Logan smirked. “Yeah, that’s fucking terrible.”

The two of you smiled at each other and something clicked in that moment, leaving the both of you quiet until you broke the tension. “To not looking like Wade Wilson.”

Logan clicked his beer against yours and felt a settling in his heart. Maybe he did deserve a second chance, at least, he could start toward earning that second chance. “Amen to that.”