#i didnt even realise i had done it until after i left

[vogelmeister]

when i was in the uk for a week i bought some skincare products from this place idk where but it was near kings cross. i got my eyeliner and my face cream and paid and the service woman (who mind you, had probably just insulted my skin to sell me the cream) starts asking if i want to join their loyalty rewards program. i politely declined and said i wasn't from the uk and would be leaving for amsterdam in a day and thanked them. this woman kept pushing it on me (she was actually a good salesperson based on how she wouldn't let this go and had just sold me face cream. clearly) and explained the benefits and i kept saying how it wouldn't have any benefits to me, a non british person who doesn't live in the uk and was leaving for amsterdam. wasn't until i looked at her and said "i'm going back home in a day," that she held up and let me go.

hate to say it but the key to having things solved by big company customer service is you just gotta stretch the truth with them. or straight up lie. actually. was on the phone for 3 hours because they sent something to the wrong address and spoke to 10 different departments trying to figure out if anyone could go fucking get it and they're like "uhhh but can you go get it" bitch I'm 8 hours away by car, I don't live in the house where you sent it.

took a moment to think, called back and was just like. Hi. My package was stolen off the porch!!! Saw the cunt steal it myself!! Anyway can you please send new things to this other address for free since that's your policy for stolen goods thank you~☆ ! and it was immediately solved.

[eveningepiphany]

pirates gold, H.S series part 4

series masterlist

my masterlist<3

summary: another day on the ship with your captor turns into him teaching you a thing or two about the pirate life. but as controversy’s of your past come up, somehow the captain and the princess wind up back in his bed- with anything but sleep on their minds.

warnings: mentions of violence, talk of unconsensual past experiences (not descriptive!) swearing, SMUT: f!rec oral and fingering, m!rec oral with slight edging, p in v penetration, dirty talk, lots of sex, anyways oopsie enjoy

a/n: i genuinely can’t believe how long this took to write and publish. thank you all for your patience, i like to think the sex they have makes the three million year wait worth it. can’t wait to hear what you all think<3

———

Nothing can prepare a person for realising they don't know themselves as well as they thought.

There's a mixture of disappointment, shame, dread. But sometimes, deep down—despite not ever admitting it to oneself— there's can be an element of excitement.

Not always, but occasionally. There’s that moment of wonder, who really am i?

It’s a bewildering spiral of good and bad feelings, you hardly know left from right, or up from down.

Rarely did you do things for yourself purely for the sake of it. Back at home there was someone for everything, not only to do things for you, but to make sure you weren't stepping out of line.

You couldn’t experiment. No finding out who you are deep down. There was never the chance for self discovery.

Now, you’ve landed in a situation where somehow you’re supposed to be more trapped. Yet you don’t think you’ve ever been more free.

No more straight posture at the dining tables of the banquet hall, being left to sit with a cautious mouth for hours upon hours. Engage in colourless and dull conversation while you imagined freedom.

Funny to think of it now… the picture in your head. Neatly pulled back hair. A spotless dress without a hunch of what was past the waters you stared out at every night. It was like trying to explain what something tasted like, yet having never tasted it yourself.

You knew nothing of freedom.

Not until you felt the sea nearly swallow you, the wind whip your hair a mess, the heart in your chest pounding as you ran out of Sintir— a place you’d only ever seen on a map.

Indulging in late night caressing with a pirate, something that selfishly bled into early morning, in his own bed. Hands on bare skin, hands in hair, hands wherever they could feasibly touch without crossing some sort of invisible line. Definitely not something that would’ve flown back in Kelna.

Yet that is exactly what you did a few days ago, and your head has been a complete mess since. After you stooped as low as to beg the Captain of this very ship to stay with you, he did just that. For how long, you dont even know. Long enough a crew mate of his was rapping his fist upon the locked door, calling out in bemused annoyance.

“You're either so hungover you cant move or tied up in there by our supposed-to-be prisoner.”

The heave of his chest underneath your head is ingrained into your memory. A strong huff, perhaps annoyed, but something you hope was from sadness. A regret for having to leave at any point, for not being able to stay forever.

"Free of any ties, Tanner. Just... tired." He calls back, tone rather harsh.

You'd moved yourself off him, "I'm embarrassed i didnt think to do such a thing."

The quip lacked all venom it used to, and you scolded yourself internally. You were screwed.

---

The days since were as bipolar as the weather at sea. You craved him, his touch, his voice of silk. It was like a drug. But you knew better for yourself.

After the hangover wore off, and the reality of what you had done set in. You forced distance between the two of you. He saw it coming, even he played along with it.

You two never stopped the game. You just went from a chess piece on his board to being the person opposite him.

Meant to be playing to win.

Up on deck, now the sun has come back out, everyone is saying the good weather is to return from now. Unsure whether to trust it— like many other things on this ship. You keep your gaze trained on the distance, where the waves ripple and swell. There is still a gusty wind, but the sun is hot on your skin.

Slowly, you chew on the fish roll you made in the kitchen with Zayn. He is a gifted cook, you on the other hand, are far from it. Used to it ‘being done for you’ he'd scorned playfully.

He'd shown you a few things this past week, stuff you feel envigored learning about. Knowing how to live independently for yourself is freeing, just as you knew it would be.

Wiping the crumbs off the sides of your lips with the back of your hand, you wonder how you are to go back to living the way you used to.

Before you could spiral into that rabbit hole, someone interrupts.

"Y/N." Harry said, his tone unreadable.

Tearing your gaze from the far horizon, your eyes met his.

The purple silk top covering him today has a typical amount of ruffles for a fashion heavy pirate. He looks tragically good in purple.

"Yes, Captain." You kept your own voice level.

The past week your walls have gone back up, albeit, haphazardly. You still struggled to stay on your side of the bed. And the few brief moments the connection between the two of you has festered in the air, and you’ve allowed it to linger.

Or better said, the moments you didn’t have the strength to resist it.

Like brushing past him in the kitchen yesterday, his hand coming to your waist as you attempt to squeeze through the gap. He wasn’t holding you, but you stopped dead in your tracks.

For but a second you both sucked a breath in. No longer than that, and then you cleared your throat and pushed past him.

Either way, he's noticed it, obviously. Feeling like he should regret the night after taking you into Sintir. But he selfishly cant.

He can’t regret it when the sensation of your skin is burnt into the pads of his fingers. No part of him is strong enough to forget the way your body felt pressed against him, leg thrown over his waist and curled into his chest.

Yet, despite all of that, back to the game you both went, head first. Your bickering was more contained, but his title of mean pirate was attempted to be restored in your mind.

Maybe he couldn’t forget the imprint of your skin against his, but he did love a good game.

Who was he not to feed into that?

A chuckle rumbles in his chest, “Captain, aye? We back to that are we. Two can play at this game Princess.”

The name makes your stomach stir, a small punch of adrenaline tingling in your limbs. How far can you push this before someone gets hurt?

He leans down to you, the blouse is loose on him and falls at the front. He’s eye level with you but your gaze locks onto the view of his chiseled chest between swirls of purple fabric, the tattoos you can vividly remember tracing with your fingers.

His tan skin is glistening between his pecs… a light sweat over him, making your mouth dry.

Suddenly his hand lifts your chin, “my eyes are up here, dove.”

“Don’t be disgusting.” You scoff, despite being caught in the act.

“What is it you want. Why are you pestering me?”

“Such a princess thing t’say, that im bothering you. You’re on my ship, need I remind you.” His fingers tap your cheek with a smirk.

“Need I remind you, that’s not to any choice of my own.” Your voice is indignant, and you pull your chin from his grasp, turning your face away with a scowl.

He’s pressing your buttons, winding you up exactly the way he knows how.

“Well, I haven’t heard much about how deeply y’long to be back home.”

It works a charm, because you’re quick to snap back at him.

“That is none of your business. And frankly I would rather keep that matter to myself than share it with the people who are responsible for kidnapping me.”

He loves hearing your accent when you argue like that, the pompous royal tone returning briefly to you. So stuck up, said always like a challenge.

Letting out a breathy laugh, his hands suddenly coming to under your arms. He hoists you off the floor like you’re but a parcel of feathers, standing you upright.

“Won’t you leave me be!” The raise in your voice causes a few crew to turn their head at the scene.

“‘M trying to make y’useful ‘round here.” He chides, his hand snakes down to one of your wrists, a smirk pulling at his lips.

The feeling takes you back to the first day on the ship merely weeks ago, when that was the only way you got around.

His hand wrapped around the rope tied around them.

You think back to when you threw yourself off the ship, When he swam out to retrieve you, when his hips pinned you to hull of the ship and he cut the ties free.

“Instead of jus’ leeching our supplies,” his voice draws your attention away from the tan hand wrapped around your wrist. “And laying around not carrying y’weight.”

“Maybe you can just starve me then. That way I won’t be taking away from your precious supplies.”

“So much sass on y’today,” The smirk that comes across his face is devilish, walking you over to the bass of a mast, “c’mere”

He pulls you infront of him, his chest to your back. Forcing himself not to take any notice to your figure, the white blouse covering your top half and the black fitted pants that are tight around your bottom.

“See this rope, how it’s worn?”

Your head turns over your shoulder to catch his eyes, and your heart lurches in your chest as you clock how close his face suddenly is to you. The green in his eyes is captivating in sunlight. With his captivating eyes burning into you, his mouth is still holding a smirk.

You give a swift, forced nod, but you’re not even looking. You’re pretty sure you haven’t even blinked.

This causes a laugh to bubble from his chest, suddenly he’s leaning in.

What the fuck?

Your brain is racing as his body leans towards you, and face is inching closer.

There is no way he’s about to kiss you.

Suddenly he’s placing something in your hands, and his body is going back to its original stance.

He was handing you the rope.

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and he’s surely seen the flush that’s spread across it. It’s making you overheat, and your lungs are rising up and down in your chest ten times as fast compared to just five minutes ago.

What is wrong with me?

You snap your gaze down, hoping that your hair falls enough to cover your flaming cheeks.

“It’s…” your voice falters— great— you’re so embarrassed right now.

“Princess, has a cat got your tongue?” He chides with sarcasm.

“It’s frayed, feels weak, yes.” You nod hastily.

“Good girl,” he watches you purse your lips at his silky praise, and focuses on purely the amusement riling you up stirs in him. Not any of the other emotions that arise.

“Y’gonna help me replace it.”

“Like hell i am. Do you want your ship to fall apart?” You scowl, there is no way you can do that without something going terribly wrong.

“That’s why I’m teaching you, y’could do with a bit of hands-on work.”

Your eyes trail up to what the rope connects to, it’s holding down a part of the sail, helping to pull it taut.

“Taking this off won’t do much since we aren’t on too rough of waters, so it’s a good time t’change it.”

He steps a few feet away from you and retrieves a wad of fresh intact rope. A lot of it too, metres upon metres.

Your body remembers the sensation of it wrapped around your hands and your feet with a slight shiver.

“Firstly, we’re gonna untie and remove the old one.”

“Harry, I don’t know what im doing.” You whine, wishing to be anywhere but here, immediately frustrated.

He tuts, dropping the pile of new rope down next you both, “Zayn did tell me y’were bad at this.”

“Excuse you?” You scoff, shocked at his audacity. Slightly offended.

He steps back behind you, ushering you forward so you’re close to the metal bar that the worn tie is wrapped around.

“Told me y’don’t like being bad at things. Don’t like not knowing how to do stuff.” His voice is smug, like that is a fatal flaw.

“I—“ you’re so annoyed right now.

“I am not!”

“Y’defensiveness only proves m’point.”

You don’t even know what to say to him right now. Truthfully— ego aside— you don’t know if that’s how you get. You have gone laps around the sun without knowing this kind of stuff about yourself.

In defiance, you don’t admit this to Harry. But you stay silent as his hands reach for the knot in front of you.

“Now, princess. Look at this.”

“I’m looking.” You huff.

“Where do you think we’re gonna start untying this, what kind of knot do y’think this is?”

“I have half a clue of what kind of knot this is, Captain.”

“This is a water bowline, angel.” The words mean little to you, but your stomach does a weird squeeze at his confident words, the way his accent makes the word angel sound.

“I’m going to guess this loose end here,” Your right hand extends out, tugging at the few inches of rope that extends out the middle of the knot, “has something to do with untying it.”

He smiles at the way you’re starting to soften at the idea of what’s happening. Yes, you’re still standing tense and your tone is still veering on irate. But you’re indulging, playing along at the least.

A small sense of pride bubbles through him, “Smart girl, it does.”

“You’ll see these knots everywhere on the ship, in many different forms. They’re nice and secure, can take a lot of tension but aren’t hard to tie or untie.”

“This here,” his fingers trace a loop in the top of the knot, “is what you’re gonna pull on first.”

You grab it and he brings his hand to your waist. The action makes you flush as you try and focus.

“Fold it forward, this is gonna loosen it against the standin’ end of the rope.”

You don’t know what that means, but you pull the part he’s directing you to towards yourself, applying a bit more pressure when you see it needs it.

He hums in approval, and your lips purse together, “Now that loose end, feed it out of the wrap in the middle there.”

You do that, and he reaches forward to add tension on the upper section of the rope as you now use both hands to untie the rest of the knot— unhooking it.

“Tha’s it. Now we can replace it, and I’ll show you how to tie the knot.” He takes the old rope and figure 8’s it around a metal hold, so it’s still holding the sail.

He sees your curious eyes at his action, and explains, “We could cut it, but just incase it’s better to have it handy until y’know you’re ready to replace it.”

You nod, and he grabs the fresh rope and sets it up for you.

Grabbing your hands, he walks you through the process first himself, then he unties it to make you do it.

You curse for the first few minutes as you try to tie it properly, but once he guides you again, you’re staring at the tied knot.

“There you go, look at that princess. Jus’ tied ya first water bowline.” He comments proudly, and you can’t help but smile.

“Thanks…” you feel good, accomplished.

“I’m gonna secure it in the eyelet up there now, y’stay down here.”

He leaves you down there. All while you watch him bring the sail in, so he can reach it from the mast. Rope tied to his belt loop, he unties the old one and lets it drop.

You’d stepped back so it could fall without nearly taking you out by the head. Staring with hardly enough shame as Harry worked his fingers to create a new knot through the eyelet of the sail.

His brow furrowed in concentration, unbothered by the metres between him and the deck of the ship as he balanced entirely unsuspended.

His strong thighs are tensed as he holds himself stable, black pants look good on him.

He cut the excess rope off with a dagger and climbed down with ease. Unbelievable how good he can look doing something like that.

Once he’s back down, he walks over to where you stood and admires the new rope alongside you. You aim to pretend you hadn’t been checking him out the whole time.

Nudging you with his shoulder, “And who said princesses couldn’t learn pirate things.”

“I’ve learnt plenty of pirate things.” You state.

“So, what are you, more princess or pirate then, dove?”

With a frown your eyes slant to him, trying to search in his gaze the motive behind the question. So many tricks are up his sleeve, he never fails to remind you that.

“I’ll leave that up to you.”

His eyes scan your face, flickering over you. A tick of silence, and then he curtly nods, “Well, they say practice makes perfect, so don’t think we’re done yet.”

He intends on spending this afternoon with you, regardless of what other things he should be doing.

“I thought it was my turn to teach you something.”

“What? Like how to manage my table manners?”

You can only roll your eyes.

And to be fair, you did plenty of that as the blue sky bled into sunset.

“No, you dolt. If you picked up that fork first they’d barrate you on the spot.”

“Whatever,” he’d sighed, “I find getting your hands dirty with a good meal is the only way to eat something.”

The evil smirk on his face as he’d said that was all telling.

The two of you did both lots of thinking and lots of talking. Lapsing between periods of comfortable silence and discussion.

A part of you wondered if this was his tactic to pry your guard back down. You hated yourself for letting it work, the fact you somewhat allowed him into the works of your brain again.

After finishing the last rope he wanted to replace, you’d stretched out your shoulders.

"Do y'feel accomplished?" His own arms reaching above his head.

"I feel productive, which is rare that happens.”

He starts walking in the direction towards the communal quarters, in presumption that you'd follow.

You do just that, wasting no time matching his pace.

"Thanks. For showing me." The words are hard to push pass your lips, they're clunky and almost shy. But they pack the same level of meaning.

He stops the few steps in front of you, right next to the wall of the communal quarters. He turns around so his full front is facing you. The sun has dipped below the horizon of the sea, the warm golden hour glow sinking with it.

Now it's lingering in that space of inbetween, where it’s not quite dark, but not light enough to class as sunset still.

You can almost relate.

His green eyes have pinned you to a stop as well, your hands falling to the front of your white blouse. The wind is toying with the loose material, gently, your fingers ring the ruffled bottom that cuts off midway down your ribcage.

He's been forcing himself to hold his eyes strictly to your face, not anywhere near the sweetheart neckline thats dipping to show the swell of your chest.

Can’t believe I bought that for her and thought I’d be able to not stare, he thinks internally.

"You dont have t'thank me." He answers truthfully. Despite the fact he may have mocked your lack of gratitude he wholly believes you did him a favour today.

"You showed me how to do something. Something useful, and practical." You remark cautiously, watching your tone doesn't give away too much sentiment, "I cant tell you the last time i've had that."

"Y'can read right?" he chuckles, stepping forward.

"I went to school Harry."

His eyes rolled playfully, finally breaking off you, making you feel like you can suddenly inhale again.

"What do they even teach you there."

"Table manners, exactly the knowledge I so kindly imparted on you earlier." you dryly joked, despite it being entirely true.

"How to talk, how to act, what to do, what not to do." You sigh as you think back on it, walking to go lean against the wall.

"Ooo” he hums, intrugied, "what not to do?"

You prattle off the first ones that come to mind, "Dont get caught lying, it brings dishonour. Dont curse, it displays immaturity and impurity,” a pause, and you scoff— one drilled into any royal in the court, “dont engage in any premarital relations."

His pupils are the only part of him that reacts at the mention of the third rule you listed, they dilate and almost shake with the intensity he’s staring at you with.

A shrug of your shoulders, "That one gets surpassed all the time though.”

At your words, his brows twitch, he thinks you're talking about yourself. The look that passes over his face is unmissable. You can't pinpoint the exact emotion, and honestly, neither can he.

You are old enough to make your own decisions, he reasons. Old enough to decide if you want to...

His brain crafts a million different scenarios. They flash past faster than he can keep up with. Lingering heavily on whether or not it was consensual.

You had spoken about how men in Kelna acted around you. Whispering disgusting things, touching you. He thinks they’d be people similar to Garret, dirtbags who would’ve forced anything if they wanted it bad enough. The thought makes him livid, to his very bones.

"You look worried." You comment ambiguously, toying dangerously with the curiosity surrounding his reaction.

When he doesn’t reply, you take it a step further,

"Does my value decrease if i cant be labelled as a pure, untouched little angel?" Your tone is sarcastic, but the second the words fall from your mouth, he reacts.

His whole body tenses where he stands, and he steps closer to you.

"Y/N." A stern but bordering protective voice comes from him, a way he’s not spoken before. "Do not ever talk ‘bout yourself like that on this ship, or I swear..."

His throat tightens with anger, voice faltering and eyes fluttering with tension. A hand grabs the wall you're standing near. Knuckles white as his fingers dig into it, "I swear t’god, it makes me want to break something."

"If somethin’ happened to you in that fucking ring of psychotic royals—” He spits it out like the thought disgusted him, “You're a human being, not a slab of meat."

It’s not often he feels the need to genuinely punch something. Someone. But right now anyone that has ever done something to you is on his immediate black list.

In the back of his brain, he recognises that in your eyes he’s equally a bad person for what he’s done to you. He stands here a hypocrite.

Furious at anyone whose ever hurt you, yet being the very person that’s holding you somewhere against your will.

The tension rolls around in your stomach, almost making it ache with the sudden anxiety. You’re so utterly confused with how to feel in this situation you force your mouth to move,

"For the record, i was not talking about myself." The clarification comes out meek despite trying to keep your tone unbothered.

He doesn’t attempt to hide his feelings, face contorted into a sneer, “Wouldn't put it past those pigs."

“No one did that to me.” You amend again, this time, your own tone stern.

“Alright Y/N, what did they fucking do to you then?” His question forces you relive every unwanted advance you’ve had to uncomfortably sit through.

Every ‘accidental’ hand placement, every provocative comment directed to you, every situation that made bile from your stomach rise into your throat.

Somehow, you find it in you to argue back, even though you don’t believe Kelna is even a shred better than a ship of pirates, "Its not like im safe in your world either."

It’s clear this is his tipping point.

The heart in his chest clenches and his body is moving before he can register it.

Because suddenly, the space surrounding you is being entirely filled, he grabs you with his hands. There’s not a sliver of violence in it at all, but it does make you jump.

Regardless, he sinks his hands into your hair. He can’t help it, curling them gently into the soft strands at the nape of your neck.

Despite how pissed he is, his touch is nothing but gentle.

It causes you to shudder, unsure if it’s out of unease or somehow a little bit of pleasure— the feeling his ringed fingers graze across the nerves that typically lay behind your hair untouched.

They ping around in your muddled brain, electromagnetic signals making you light headed. It’s overwhelming, how did this even happen?

Even with the soft touch of his fingers, the look behind his hard gaze makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

“I…” you try to make words, yet nothing comes out. Hands against skin are all you can make sense of.

It’s tangible, they’re there. If your strip everything else away, it’s just someone holding you.

Someone touching you softly. Someone who you—deep down, no matter how hard you try to feel otherwise—are okay with touching you.

You can swallow that pill. If only you could make it that simple, of course.

“Harry.”

One thing he’s learnt since having you around is that he can’t handle the way his name sounds when it comes out of your mouth.

Especially not with that whined tone. When it falls from your lips like a plea.

He can’t seem to find the words either. Your feet are planted between his and your own hands are braced on his hips.

“Dove, y’can’t keep bloody doin’ this to me.”

“I’m not doing anything to you,” his hands slide to your face, they cradle your cheeks, “Harry im just standing here. I’m telling you the truth.”

His face feels so close to yours, you swear you can feel the breath that passes through his lips meet your own.

Intimate almost, if you think about it hard enough.

“I don’t care about that, I care about you.”

“You can’t do this to me!” You whine, pushing his hands away, stumbling back. Breaking that connection by force if you have to.

You don’t remember how you ended up like this, with your blood pulsing in your ears and your chest heaving so hard your ribs could break.

Exasperated, “I am fine! I am okay!”

He is at a loss for words. You are so complex, so intricate. His curiosity for you deepens, even when he thinks it can’t anymore.

“I do not need any kind of pity, there is nothing to pity!”

“They made you not trust people.” He says with disgust.

You cant believe he can say that when he literally kidnapped you. And although he’s right to a degree, this experience hasn’t been great for your trust issues either.

“This world made me not trust people.” You gesture out to the ship around you, in sheer disbelief, “I’m standing on a fucking boat in the middle of nowhere because nothing is okay!”

Yelling against the wind, “Because the only thing people care about is themselves, and what they can gain from exploiting others.”

“I am a fucking object to everyone I’ve ever met.”

A part of his heart cracks hearing this, he has to physically restrain himself from stepping closer to you.

Space, give her space, his brain urges him— despite his physical body begging to do the opposite.

“Y/N,” his voice attempts to stay level. He watches your reaction.

Like a timid yet fired up animal, your hair is being thrown by the wind, pupils wild.

“There’s nothin’ i can say that will justify any of this. I know tha’.”

“There’s not.” You snapped, eyes threatening an emotion you can’t imagine letting out around him.

Crying is another thing frowned upon in the court, not unless the circumstance is so dire it warrants it.

You think for a second that you’re going to have the strength to pull yourself together, but suddenly, a wet and salty tear slips past your waterline.

The humiliation inside you that followed the single tear that just slid down your cheek would be enough to crush a grown man.

You knew he’d seen it, your face is flaming with embarrassment.

“This— this conversation is over.” You curtly reply, voice worn as you force out a tone reserved for Kelna.

The way you’re speaking to him like an associate causes him to move, “Y/N, stop—“

But your feet are suddenly moving, “Do not follow me.”

The warning is clear, he hesitates into a stop. Debating what to do.

Give you space or force you to stay in his company?

The conflicting thoughts on his face are clear.

Yet he swallows, and nods.

Then you turn around and walk away.

———

He forced himself to wait an hour. An excruciatingly long one.

After he watched you walk away, he went into where his crewmates were. Predicatably, they were sharing pints and throwing darts. The room was warmly lit, filled with chatter that echoed inside the dark wooden walls. A few of the boys asked where you were as Harry passed them. He could only lie.

“Tired after working.” Was his chosen reply, hoping now was the time more than ever that the crew just took his word for something.

“Probably the hardest she’s ever worked aye?” Tanner drunkenly joked to him, patting his back and throwing another sip of beer back.

Harry had to refrain from shooting him a look. Despite it being something he’d likely say himself, right at that moment, all he felt was worry for you. Even a shred of defensiveness, but that’s a feeling he has to shove down for the moment.

Making way to the cupboards that held their fair share of staple pirate beverages, he pulled a metal flask out and leaned against the bar top.

He forced himself to act as though he was unbothered, and that he was interested in the games of darts unfolding.

However his brain was heavily preoccupied,

Is she okay? Did I do the right thing letting her have time to herself? Is she mad at me?

Questions ran on loop, running a hand through his curls he struggled to reason with himself.

A hand was placed on his back, that interrupted his spiralling thoughts as he sipped at the flask of whiskey. A short sideways glance revealed his blonde haired crew mate.

“Y’seem off.” He quietly remarked.

Niall, often unserious, was surprisingly good at knowing when something was up. And even better at handling it discretely.

Due to that, Harry let out a short sigh through his nose before admitting a shred of truth.

“May have struck a cord with her.”

“Go too far with something, mate?” He asks quietly, curiously.

“No,” he frowns, unsure if he’s insinuating something else, he quickly clarifys, “was talking about the courts, got her upset.”

Niall’s blue eyes dart to meet his captains. Allowing a curt nod before looking back out to their crewmates that are fake tackling eachother over a stolen swig of beer.

“Y’checked on her yet?”

“Givin’ her space. She’s not too happy w’me at the minute.”

He lets out a light snort, “Good choice. Unless she’s thrown ‘erself off the ship, then t’was a bad one.”

“Ha-ha.” He fake laughs and rolls his eyes at Niall, taking a moment to swallow down the anxiety that’s built in his throat.

He can’t avoid stressing about you.

After a few ticks of silence, Niall clears his throat,

“Jus’ careful wit her. For both your sakes.”

He adds on with a pat on the back, “here if you need cap. It’ll be alright.”

Anyone else he would’ve been annoyed for saying that, but Niall is probably wiser than Harry himself. So his advice is taken with gratitude.

“Thanks mate. I’ll be careful.”

After another half hour, he’d had enough of the ill feeling that stirred in his stomach.

He left the room to find himself outside in the now cold but still windy air. It took a second for his gaze to adjust to the darkness, immediately scanning the deck around him for you.

Without any sight of you, he checks all the places he can think you’d be. His room, the cells, the kitchen.

His heart doubles in pace every time you’re not in a place he thought.

Coming out of the kitchen, his quickened pace. Starting to walk along the deck that leads him along the perimeter of the boat.

As he gets closer to the stern of the boat, he feels genuinely sick.

What if you had—

“Y/N!” He gasps without any thought the second his eyes spot your silhouetted frame.

You’re leant against the edge of the boat, staring out into the black water that swirls beneath the ship. He thanks the stars you’re not in it right now, given he was starting to think the worst of the situation at hand.

He doesn’t give you any time to talk before his long strides are invading your personal space. Warm hands coming to your cheeks, turning them to inspect your face for any damage, as though you are some kind of treasure to him.

“Im sorry.” He immediately begins.

“I shouldn’t have pushed m’luck.”

Your eyes scan his, taking in his face as his hands have come to rest in the crook where your neck and shoulders meet.

You still haven’t said anything, which isn’t working in his favour because his words are filling the silence, becoming more risky with each passing second.

“Jus’… the idea of something like that happening to you made me…” his thumbs stroke upwards along the valley of your throat subconsciously, “makes me fuckin’ sick.”

Your lips part as he begins to spill things he probably shouldn’t. Swearing that he can probably feel your pulse in your neck where his fingers lay.

He can’t stop now, “hearing you talk about y’self like that, like y’an object... I know I am no better than any average person in the Kelna courts for what I’ve done to you. But I promise you that I’d take a dagger to my own hands till there was nothing left of them before I ever let something of that nature happen to you…”

A deep breath and he shakes his head, “Not without your permission, darling.”

He doesn’t even care what that’s insinuating. Never does he want you under the impression he has control of you in a sexual regard.

The thought of you even believing that made him sick.

The air around you feels pressurised, and it’s like you’re about to spill even more out to him.

“I am being held captive, yet I’ve never felt more fucking free. How fucked is that?”

He is silent to your admission, shocked into it almost.

“You don’t understand how it feels to go from having to watch your every move, every word, just to stay alive. You are loved with conditions.”

Your voice suddenly heavy with anger again, “People cannot be trusted, everything is always two-sided, no matter what they say to portray otherwise.”

His hands have slipped from you, you’ve started pacing the deck and throwing your own hands out as bouts of sheer outrage wash over you.

“Here, god— you’re atleast half fucking honest with me. I don’t have to conform to any stupid rules to how I speak or sit or dress. I can swear at you, and you only raise the stakes.”

He can’t really fathom that you’re not speaking less of him. That you’re admitting that the life you lead on the ship as a hostage is better than as a princess.

“And I go against every promise I made to myself when I woke up here. I would let you do anything to me, Harry. Do you not understand that? How hard that is to live with everyday?”

“y’implying a lot right now…” he answers.

“You have my permission!” You spit out, pissed off now. At him, for being so charming and handsome that you’ve wound up as the lamb that fell for the lion. And pissed at yourself for being so unable to halt your snowballing emotions for him.

You’re self aware enough to know you’re an idiot, yet you’re still in the same position nonetheless. You’re also going to blame it your lack of education on how to handle sexy pirates that kidnap you for ransom money.

All the same, you’ve come aware that you’d let him do anything to you. You’d do anything to him.

God forbid the day you would do anything for him.

You’re terrified because whether or not this is some kind of fucked up situation of Stockholm Syndrome, you’re too deep in it to turn back now.

“Fucking Jesus Christ…” he curses to the sky, stepping towards you where you’re pacing.

“I hate you, you know! For putting me in this position.” You point at him, stating with contempt once you lock eyes.

“Y/N. Stop.” His voice has dropped several octaves. The wind has urged the curls that usually sit pushed back to fall over his eyes and forehead. Standing over you, his gaze is pinning you to the spot.

His brows are furrowed in an unreadable expression, but you don’t care. Right now, everything you have is about to go on the line.

“Stop what? Telling you that there’s something going on with me— with us here?” You gesture between the two of you.

“Am I meant to tell you that I—“ His hands come to your waist and urge you backwards against the edge of the ship.

The low of your back is pressed into the wooden beam, something you should be scared about realistically, but his hold around you is tight.

“Don’t fucking say it.” He says, “whatever you’re about to say, keep it to yourself.”

“Can’t handle the truth, Captain?”

He tips your chin with his hand, bringing your head on an angle to look him in the eyes, “You won’t be able to handle what comes after that, Princess.”

You’re unsure when both of your breathing became short and laboured. His panting chest made your head physically spin.

“What? Are you gonna put me down in the cells, hang my by the chains on the walls?”

His exhale stutters out of parted lips, “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Ignoring your problems does nothing, Harry. They keep getting bigger while you hide from them. Out of sight out of mind doesn’t work the way you think it does.”

Your frustration easily spreads to him, pushing him closer to a point neither of you can come back from.

His hands grab yours suddenly, they wrap around your wrists and hold them tight between you both. Like he’s grasping for any element of control he has left before everything spirals.

“There is no problem here, Y/N.” He whispers into your ear, voice stern, “do not make one.”

The tension between you both is absolutely palpable, his body is so close to yours it’s spinning your senses haywire.

“So we what? Go back to your room and act like nothings going on… I go get into your bed, and I let you wrap your hands around me like it’s just— it’s just…”

There’s not even a word for it, your voice trails off. His breath hot against your ear, and his one hand still tight around your two wrists.

Fuck it, fuck this, you think.

You turn your face to his, noses bumping.

It’s like the pull between your lips is so strong it’s easier to give in than put an inch of distance between them.

Your body squirms against his. It’s making him wild, he needs you so bad it’s going to break him.

“Not doing it.” He pants out, voice so deep it sounds like he just woke up.

“Not kissing me?”

“Nope.”

“Im giving you permission.”

“Numbing your problems doesn’t make them go away. Feeding into them only makes them worse.” His eyes fluttered shut, brows in a deep frown as he holds himself back with every part of his being.

“So you admit there’s a problem.” Your voice sounds dignified.

The metaphor of your situation has taken on a nickname clearly, and you’re not sure if it’s helping at all.

You nudge your nose into his again, his head falls into a tilt. His mouth so easy to access…

A dance between you ensues. Your mouth moves forward but his moves back.

“It’s so wrong…” he whispers, tongue jutting out to wet his lips. They’re left parted open, air escaping and fanning onto your own.

“I want to rip your shirt off your body right now, how’s that for wrong?”

“if I kiss you, Y/N,” he begins, breath stuck in his throat, “I’ll never be able to send you back.”

And how wrong is it for you to admit that’s beginning to become exactly what you want.

A stretch of silence, and you finally just lean into him. The second your lips meet his, your whole body melts.

Air empties out of his lungs in sweet relief, he swears for a moment he feels so lightheaded that he’s dreaming this whole moment up.

The hand wrapped around your wrists slides off and finds refuge on your waist. A voice in his subconscious is selfishly begging your own soft fingers to touch him wherever they can.

It appears words are suddenly useless to you both, and all that’s important is the kiss that is finally happening.

The meaning behind it weighs like a tonne of bricks, yet somehow makes it all the better. It shows in the way his mouth moves against yours like velvet, kissing back into your upper lip like he’s desperate for you.

He still recalls the first time he caught himself thinking about kissing you.

You were down in the cells, playing the waiting game after pushing him one step too far. It’d been over a day since he’d pulled you out of the water you’d thrown yourself in.

The sun was hot on his skin as he thought of your fully soaked body that he pressed into the hull of his ship. He remembered looking up to your lips as he untied your bound wrists.

They were glossy with water from the sea.

As he thought about, he only could imagine tasting them. Kissing over the salt water until they no longer shone with ocean drops, but with his saliva instead.

He had to physically shake his head at himself. Blaming it on not having been laid in so long.

Didn’t take long to release that was far from the problem when it came to his unseemly attraction to you.

A deep whine sounds from your chest, drawing him back to the present, and he pushes his body as far into your space as it can. You’re physically pinned against the edge of the ship. Theres not a care in the world at the endlessly deep swell of water thats just past you.

You don’t even remember when tongue started getting involved, nor when exactly you worked up the courage to lick into his mouth.

It’s hot, so hot.

His body feels like it’s on fire, and your hands feel that tangible warmth as they slide underneath the purple silk covering his chest.

That heat isn’t just budding in chests, it’s striking hot between legs. Only growing worse by the minute.

“My fuckin’ god…” he groans into your mouth, hands squeezing the swell of your chest.

“You taste devine, angel…”

His words make you tipsy. You smile and kiss him harder, letting his hands roam your body like you’ve never touched eachother before.

Despite the nights he’s dragged a delicate touch along your back and the skin over your waist, it’s nothing compared to this. It’s like you’ve never felt him before. The way his tongue glides against the roof of your mouth skilfully, and firm yet gentle hands are palming the flesh between your ass and thighs.

He’s wasted no time roaming and squeezing every inch of your skin, even over clothes he’s desperately trying to commit it to memory. Rubbing over the swell of your ass like you’re the only thing in the world he wants this bad.

“Harry.” There it was, his name.

The way it falls from your kiss swollen lips in that same pretty plea that sends him spiraling every single time. Yet it was so, so different in this moment.

Sheer pleasure courses through him, and he pulls your leg up to bracket his hip, letting him push himself closer into you. Imagining what lay between the peak of your thighs.

Wishing to see the state of you, wondering if this situation has worked you up to the same extent as him.

You can feel him, every inch. Every hard slab of muscle is pressed into you, warmth radiating off him like rays of the sun.

“My name.” He murmurs into your lips, “Say it again.”

His kiss trails down your neck, sucking gently over your pulse before licking a stripe back up your throat. His saliva leaving a hot, wet trail behind.

“Harry, please… more.” You don’t even have to try, the words all come from your mouth like it’s your only purpose.

His prick is swollen in the black trousers he’s in, shamelessly being pushed into your thigh. The feeling, it’s like heaven. You don’t have any single other way to explain it.

He’s behind layers of clothing and he’s pretty sure this is better than any sex he’s ever had.

Your little experience with genuine sexual interactions has not stopped you at all. And reflecting on every past experience of a sexual nature, they fall incomparably flat to this.

Despite the majority of them being unwanted advances, even the few you engaged in— mostly with random strangers at ballroom parties— were nothing to this.

They took place in dim hallways and in secluded gardens, the kisses were always slimy, laced with the intention of taking anything from you they feasibly could. You always stopped it when you released you felt no desire to go further.

This, however, was happening because no matter how hard you both attempted to deny it, you both wanted it. Wanted eachother.

And this time, all you felt was desire.

Your hand comes down to suddenly cup the bulge of his cock between you. He moans at the feeling, rocking into your palm shamelessly.

“Fuck— I could come jus’ like this. Against your innocent little hand…” he curses into your neck, making your mind swirl with his lustful and dirty words.

“Tha’s no fun though.” He amends, swollen lips coming up to your ear, “Not when I could take you back to our bed…”

Our bed… your hazy brain notes, trying to commit it to memory as his tongue drags lightly over the shell of your ear.

“I could leave your hands free, so you could lace them into my hair. Pulling on it like I know you would while I lick into you, Angel.”

“Or would you prefer them bound up against the headboard? Just as we’ve always joked, all tied up. At my mercy.”

“Please… Harry.” Your whole body feels like it’s been set alight, the pulsing between your legs so intense it made your knees weak.

“Please what, dove? Or you don’t care? As long as someone is looking after that pretty place down here, hmm…”

His hand meets the fabric between your legs, both of you now rutting into each others palms.

You can’t help but whine, “it hurts… Harry. Fuck…”

He shakes his head, leaning in to kiss your lips. He can’t believe you’re so worked up you’re telling him its physically hurting you. He thought it was just him, with his cock so hard he is bordering on being in pain.

“Cmon,” he starts to pull you back, your body leaving the dangerous edge of the boat.

But you hardly can figure out how to walk, almost like a little spring doe. Knees struggling to function.

He picks you up effortlessly by your thighs, wrapping them around his waist. Your arms naturally draping over his broad shoulders, tangling into his messy brown hair.

You whine and push into his chest without any thought. Attempting any kind of friction you can, causing his to laugh. His eyes finding yours, “you’re so needy you’re grinding against my chest…”

His long legs make quick distance across the boat, out of the cool wind and through the winding halls below deck.

Thankfully not running into a soul as he enters his room with you, locking the door swiftly behind him.

The second the latch flicks in place, his lips are back against yours. The kiss is sloppy and desperate, open mouths pushing against eachother like you’ve been apart for weeks.

You’re moaning into his mouth as he squeezes your ass in the dark room. Walking over to his bed, still holding you against him as he climbs atop the mattress.

He lets your back drift down until it meets the plush comforter, but your legs still elevated by his. Ass against his thighs, and his erection tightly pushed against you.

He follows your lips the whole way down, hands rolling up and down your body, lingering against your breasts as he nicks your bottom lip with his teeth.

“This okay?” He breathes out, making sure you’re alright.

“Yes…” You nod, responding without even a second between his question.

He soaks up the feeling that swells in his chest as you consent to him. You said it without an ounce of hesitation. He’s almost feeling honoured.

“This is on your terms, my Princess… you tell me to stop and I stop.”

My. Your brain struggled to compute his possessive words.

My Princess.

You drag your hands up his back, sliding them all the way to his cheekbones.

Your eyes find his.

They lock with intensity. Green gaze piercing into your soul.

Silence ticks over between you, only filled by the panting of your breaths.

Your thumb slips down to his plump lips, pulling down his bottom one. The pad of your finger tracing over its fullness, dipping into the wetness that coats it.

He allows it, eyes fluttering at the gentle yet seductive touch.

He is so gorgeous.

When your thumb is wet with his saliva, you bring it back down to your mouth. He watches you, the action so small yet so utterly filthy as you draw your finger into your mouth. Taking it between your own lips and sucking it clean.

Once you draw it out of your mouth, you keep your big eyes looking at him, “You have my permission, Captain.”

He curses at your words, and they kick him back into gear. His body folds over yours again, meeting your lips with his— fuelled with a fever that makes his head spin.

He tastes like whiskey, and you feel simply drunk off of it. You want to drink him up. He is the warm, tingly feeling in your throat after throwing back a shot of the brown liquor.

His mouth moves down your neck again, kissing and licking as far as your clothes will allow. He gets to the very top of your chest before the fabric gets in the way. Having half the mind to just mouth over your nipple anyway.

But, it’s the satisfaction that’s to come with stripping it off of you. The very clothes he bought.

Fingers shuck the material up over your chest, and your arms lift up instinctively to help him get it off. He’s surprised to see you were without a bra.

There you lay, arms up above your head, back arched against the mattress, and your beautiful chest on display for him.

“Oh, dove… you are a work of art.” He coos, hands immediately coming to run against the soft skin of your breasts.

He stares intently in the dark, suddenly asking, “Can I light a candle?”

His voice is hasty, “I can see you, but not s’well as I would if there was a bit of light.”

“Want t’see your skin coated in that warm light,” he leans down, voice dropping into a whisper, “and so I can watch y’nipples harden when I wrap my mouth ‘round them.”

You nod quickly as you speak a desperate yes, squirming at the idea.

It would be unfair for you also, not to see his chest and tattoos while you two did whatever this was together.

He pecks a chaste kiss over your lips.

“Thank,” kiss.

“…you.” another gentle kiss.

He slides upright, struggling to tear his eyes off of you as he fumbles for a match to light the candle on the sconce mounted to his wall.

You hear the match flick alight, and the room suddenly being cast on a golden glow as he brings the flame to the wick.

Discarding of the match, he wastes no time coming back to where you lay— hair fanned out underneath you. He stands at the edge of the bed, staring breathlessly at you.

He had hummed the second he saw you—properly saw you. Your cheeks are flushed red, beautiful brows upturned into an expression of sheer want.

“Let me take yours off,” you gesture with your eyes to his own shirt, “please?”

“C’mere then.”

You bring yourself up, knees to the edge of his bed. Your hands lift the purple fabric over him, and suddenly the tan, chiseled skin you eye off so often is finally yours to freely touch.

Tattoos and muscles, fine hairs and freckles, he is the embodiment of beauty and sex.

You run soft hands over his abs, the muscles almost rippling as he feels the skin to skin contact. Throwing his head back, he groans into the tension filled air.

Hands wrap around your bare waist, pulling you flush against him, chest to chest.

He follows through with exactly what he’d said moments earlier, kissing a trail down to your breasts before wrapping his soft mouth around the peak of one of them.

Wet and hot, his tongue sucks and swirls until you’re moaning embarrassingly loud. You react like you’ve never felt someone like this before, because truthfully, you hadn’t.

Your spine arches, pushing into his mouth and lacing your hands around his neck.

He pulls away, smirking at the hardened nipple he’s looking after, while you catch your breath.

“My turn.” You whispered, and despite your legs feeling like jelly, you kiss your own way down his chest until you meet his defined pectoral muscle.

Your lack of experience doesn’t show, you’re so eager to please him it makes you only confident. You lick against the warm skin of his chest, lulling your tongue over his own nipple— something a girl has never done to him before.

“Fuck—!” He bites out, teeth clamping down onto his lower lip.

You pay some attention to it before trailing up his shoulder, sucking the skin above his collarbone. Biting against it and making sure to leave a mark.

He slaps lightly at your ass, still covered in tight black pants, just as he is.

“You are so filthy, dove.” His voice lilts, dripping with honey,

“Who would’ve known… to look at you, no one would know you’re the kind of girl that’s going to wrap her hot little mouth on any skin she can.”

“Innocent thing you are, ready to do anything, hm?”

His nose nudges yours so he can get better access to your mouth, kissing into it again.

Merely minutes since he last had his lips on yours, and it feels like the first time all over again. It strikes and stirs hot in your stomach. Making you arch into him again, pressing your chest against his.

“So needy… you must be soaked…” his thoughts spill from his lips out loud.

“Panties that I bought you are probably wet through by now, little cunt all weepy for something it’s never had.”

“D’ya want it, baby?” His sultry voice asks.

“Harry, I want it, I want you.” You plead, and he unbuttons your black pants.

The zipper is pulled down by him, and he slides his hand in between your legs. Cupping over the fabric, it’s almost hot to touch.

“So warm in there, I can feel y’clenching around nothin’.”

He rubs softly over you, and you moan out, rutting into his hand.

His lips kiss you hot and slow as he runs tedious circles over the top of your panties.

Once you’re moaning and arching into him, he slowly retracts his hand out, “get in the middle of the bed.”

You follow his instructions moving to lay in the centre of his mattress as he shucks his pants off.

He’s in nothing but boxers as he climbs above your legs, “No one else has ever made you come, have they?”

His green eyes lock with yours,

“N-no.”

“No one’s ever wrapped their lips around your swollen clit and sucked until you finish against their tongue? Or fucked their fingers into you until you are almost crying?”

You can’t even verbally answer, only able to shake your head side to side.

“Mm, okay,” he hums, lowering down to kiss your belly as he slowly pulls your pants down from your legs.

A smirk rises on his lips as he kisses below your navel, “Then I take it no one’s ever pushed their cock into you?”

Your cheeks were burning as you squeezed your thighs together, only in black lacy panties that he bought you.

“Alright baby,” he smirks, “look at you then, in this little pair of black underwear I got ya. Did you think about what was going through my head as I picked them out?”

“Never thought I’d be privledged enough to see y’in them.”

The warm candle highlights the goosebumps that have already prickled over your skin, each kiss he’s pressed to your bare body has made them spread like wildfire.

He takes his time to tease you, lips lulling over your lower stomach, tongue tracing the upper band of your underwear.

This continues until you’re begging him for anything, “I can’t— h— fuck… Harry.”

Your speech is slurred like you’re half awake, “Please touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He stated, green eyes flickering up to yours, face with devilish intent.

“More…” was the only word you could sigh out to him, unable to hold eye contact with him for longer than a second.

His hand comes to the back of your knee, pushing it up so your legs spread. He licks a slow, pleasing stripe against the dip between your thigh and where you want him the most.

Your hips jut upwards, and his fingers trace over your centre above the fabric covering it. As you whine wordlessly into the comforter, he tucks his finger into the edge seam of your panties. Pulling the elastic back and letting it snap back against your skin.

Not enough to hurt, but enough for the vibration to ripple through your core.

“Jus’ say the words, dove.” He murmurs, kissing over where your clit is.

“Take them off.” Your own hands start frantically pulling the sides down your thighs.

“Tha’s my girl.” He taps over where he just kissed with his thumb, laughing at your attempt to get them off, helping you get them all the way down. Tossing them over his shoulder, leaving them somewhere behind him to be dealt with later.

His eyes finally lock onto your bare body. Entirely naked.

How badly you want him is evident, and his fingers immediately move to run down your dripping centre.

“You…” he speaks, voice raspy and dripping with desire, “are a fucking angel.”

“Prettiest little cunt I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Fuckin’ hell. The things im going to do to you if you’ll let me.”

The second they glide down you, grazing over your entrance, all conscious thoughts and conscious movement disappear. Almost like a magic trick. Suddenly everything you do is automatic, like your breathing or your heart beating. You have no conscious play in it.

This includes the words coming from your mouth.

“Finger me.” You moan shamelessly, clenching around nothing as he touches you.

He almost groans at your request, “Mm, well I gotta stretch you out, hey?”

Taking a few moments to rub over you slowly, he eventually slides his middle finger into you. It glides in so smoothly. Even just the idea of his hands touching you this way has you completely melted, your back arching off the mattress as he moves in and out gently, the subtle rolling inside you enough to send you insane.

“C’mon dove, let me taste.” He pushes your legs open wider.

No part of you registers what he’s saying until his lips attach to your clit, licking over your arousal that’s spread entirely over your core.

“God!” You cry out as he flicks his tongue and curls his finger, the combination heavenly.

It’s bliss for him just watching you, the way your body reacts to every little touch he administers.

Another finger pushing into you and you’re already a mess around his hand and mouth. At whatever point he thought you couldn’t get any wetter, he was entirely wrong.

“Y’gushing around me, baby. Two fingers and you’re clenching like you could finish jus’ like this— so tight too.” His words are spoken against you, and the vibration just makes you fall deeper and deeper.

“Feel so good, Harry.” You moan out, hands finally finding his soft curls. Wrapping around them and tugging his face into you.

The scene is erotic. Pink lips against you, fingers pushed into you. Same tan arm holding onto your leg that you’ve stared at many times before.

His cock is aching while he does this to you, hearing you whine his name like a broken record as he picks up the intensity. Tongue and fingers forming a rhythm, one that quickly is building an intense heat in the low of your stomach.

Sitting up, he removes his fingers without warning as he repositions himself. You immediately miss the feeling of him inside of you, somewhere in the back of your head wondering how you’re ever going to go without the sensation.

It blips suddenly to wondering what the fuck you’re both going to do after tonight… something that would make you overthink into a deadly spiral usually. But it’s quickly forgotten about again when he rests on his knees between your spread legs, and pulls your ass up onto his thighs.

Your legs are spread open completely, he has a view of you he’s only ever dreamed of. Your wet glistening cunt in front of him, entirely his to please tonight.

You’re still babbling out his name like a mantra, mixed with a few different sighed words. Varying from “please” to “fuck” to “touch me”.

They get lodged in your throat when you watch him dip down and lick along you completely. Spitting onto your clit once he gets to it.

Fucking filthy.

You loved it.

His free hand reaches to touch your chest, rocking his tongue against you. Mixing spit and arousal together over your swollen core.

“Taste so fuckin’ good.” He moans into you, flicking his tongue over your entrance.

He’s eating you out so damn well you want to suck him off desperately in attempt to thank him.

It doesn’t take long before the same hand that was pressed into your breast, tweaking your sensitive nipples his sliding back down along your waist.

“Three,” he murmurs into you, “reckon you can take that like a good girl?”

“Yea… yea!” You eagerly nod, your own hand coming to squeeze your breast, “need to feel you.”

“You are so fuckin’ dirty… beggin’ t’take more n’ more of me.”

He holds the back of your thigh as he works to push in a third finger. This one burns, you never put more than two of your own fingers inside of you. And compared to his— size wise— they don’t measure up in the slightest.

The pinch you feel is a mixture of pleasure and pain. But your body registers the sensation that feels otherworldly as you stretch around him.

“Harry!” You whine out, hips stuttering as he slowly curls his three fingers inside of you, “Holy shit.”

He moved feverishly, showing clearly how bad he wants you to come. He wants to watch you entirely unravel between his touch.

Everything is starting to build up in your stomach, the pressure twisting and clenching. Your hand comes up to your own hair, fisting through it at the intensity.

He pumps his fingers in fast, quick movements, curling them quickly inside of you as he watches in complete awe at your bodies reaction to him. Your back is arching, lips whining out beautiful sounds, a light dusting of sweat shines between your chest.

“Taking it so well,” he murmurs, leaning down to attach his lips to your clit as he continues fucking you with his fingers.

The second his tongue swirls over you, you realise you’re about to loose it.

“H-harry—“ the sheer desperation in your voice tells him all he needs to know, along with the pulsating of your entrance.

“Don’t stop…” pleading to him, “i— im gonna come.”

He smiles against you, sucking harshly as you start to squirm and pant underneath him.

“Want to watch it,” he presses a kiss above your clit, “want to watch every second of it.”

You nod feverishly, head starting to spin and body starting to feel like it’s floating.

“Are you gonna show me, dove? Show me just how good im making y’feel?” His voice is seductively low.

“Don’t want you holding back, I want to hear you.”

“Harry.” The thrust of his hand is beginning to tip you over the edge, his words only bringing you closer.

He leans his body over yours, mouth coming to kiss over you. Trailing up your chest until his lips meet yours.

The kiss is open-mouthed and desperate as you moan into it.

You want his fingers as deep as they can possibly fit into you, and you suddenly are verbalising this, “harder, deeper, please…”

“Want it rough, baby. I’ll give you rough.” He chuckles against you.

All the sudden, his pace quickens, and he’s pushing them in and out of you at a rate your brain can’t even keep up with.

The feeling of the palm of his hand slapping against your clit makes your whole body seize up, you cry out in pleasure as he talks in your ear.

“Cmon, let it all out baby.” He coos, voice soft compared to his movements.

Your moans are loud and stuttered out at each thrust. Starting to shake as your stomach tightens, “Please, please!”

His movements don’t falter for a second, and suddenly your orgasm hits you like a train. Whole body shaking as you clench around his fingers.

He even moans as he feels you finish, imagining how it would feel to have your cunt squeezing his cock instead.

You cry out his name so loud it echoes through his bedroom, all while he rocks his fingers through your orgasm.

“That’s it angel,” palm hitting your clit to make you clench again, drawing out the pleasure, “fucking gorgeous…”

“So beautiful, letting me watch your face screw up as you came all over my hand.”

“Can’t wait to have my face down there someday.”

The thought makes you writhe against him, “maybe later, hm?”

“I’ll get my tongue inside of you, play with that pretty clit until you do that all again… finish on m’face.”

He’s dirty talking you as you come down, and even when he finally draws his fingers out of you, you can’t help but want more.

Unsure if it’s just him telling you all the stuff he wants to do, or just how badly you want him in general, you realise how worked up you still are.

Not often would you orgasm and still be craving more, but right now you swear you could be doing this all night with him.

His soaked fingers run up between your chest and come to his mouth. His green eyes finding yours as he sucks them clean, humming as he tastes you.

“Fuck me—“ a sudden burst of energy comes to you, hands coming to push yourself to sit up. During it all, you’d slid off his lap and back down onto the mattress.

“Let me suck your cock.”

He’d straightened upright along with you, sitting back on his knees as he had been earlier.

His brows shot up in surprise as you suddenly had this new found energy, “baby— you haven’t even fully come down yet, just have a moment.”

“Harry.” Your gaze snaps to him, “im going to suck you off until you decide you’re going to fuck me, okay?”

“I need you to fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ.” He curses, throwing his head back. His cock is aching, and he can’t even imagine saying no to that.

“I’m gonna struggle not to finish the second you wrap your lips around me, princess.”

“You can hold it, captain. I want to taste you.”

It doesn’t take you long before you’re pushing him backwards, making his legs stretch out as you kiss him quickly.

He hums into your mouth as you palm at his briefs, squeezing the fabric over his hard cock.

You move to pull his briefs down his thighs, listening to him groan once he is finally out of the tight confines. Pulling away from his warm lips, you look down between you.

Jesus Christ.

Of course the Captain was heavily equipped.

The tip of him was flushed and swollen, you just knew how well it would fill your mouth. He was the embodiment of pure sex. Everything about him.

“Can i?” You glance up, looking at the way his plump bottom lip is taken between his white teeth.

He nods quickly, fluttering his eyes as he pictures the mental image of what you’re about to do to him. How much this is about to fuck him up.

Not having to imagine long. Your body sinks down, knees pushing back on the comforter as you half lay between his legs.

“God—“ he draws out, you haven’t even touched him, but the sight of you is enough to make his head spin.

Your bare ass and the arch of your back is all he can pay attention to as you rest on your elbows between his thighs.

“You look so…” he struggles to find the word, and the thought will never be completed. Your hands wrap gingerly around him, and although you’re unsure how to go about pleasing him, you waste no time licking along the underside of him.

“Fuck!” He spits out immediately, hips flexing upward at the touch.

Lips wrapping over his head, you just go with what feels natural, sucking the tip gently, careful not to nick him with your teeth.

“Y/N.” He sighs out your name, letting you envelop his senses entirely.

He doesn’t know how long he’s going to be able to hold out from finishing in your mouth. He’s already feeling that tightness spread across his abdomen, and you haven’t even been on him for a whole minute.

You hum around him in response to your name, hands sliding up his thighs and meeting the muscles of his chest. Selfishly you palm over the hard slabs, watching his brows furrow in pleasure as you slip further down his length.

Hollowing your cheeks you suck around him, moving up and down gently as his hand laces into your hair.

“You… your mouth is like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Could sit here all night with that thing wrapped around me.”

You revel in the idea, saliva dripping down his cock as you draw back up to having only his tip between your lips. Gently pulling off to talk, “I’d do it.”

He feverishly lets his head fall back, pulling at the hair he’s got between his fingers.

“You’d be a good girl and warm my cock all night with that mouth of yours?”

You nod as he leans down to pull your face up to his, kissing your lips without shame of where they’d just been.

He slides his tongue into your mouth, drawing across your bottom lip, “Another night baby. You wanted me inside of you, so you’ll get that.”

“A little longer on you, please.” You whine, wanting to please him with your mouth just like he had for you.

The briefs hanging onto his thighs get pulled all the way off before your body leans back down, kissing over his length and sucking harshly at certain sides of him.

Who is he to say no to you.

Licking along him, you drag your tongue over his tip before sliding your lips down him again. This time you move faster, and he is trying to keep his thoughts controlled as you fill your mouth with as much of him as you can without gagging.

“Good girl,” he moans, watching your ass rise and fall with each bob of your head.

His prick is practically dripping with your saliva, and he don’t think he’s ever felt a better feeling in his life.

So good that he can only go so long before he’s swearing, and pulling at your hair, “Fuck— Y/N I’m going to come if y’don’t stop.”

You hum around him, having half the mind to just keep going so you can taste him fully. Somehow he finds the strength to hold it off, “No, baby, take your mouth off— please.”

You slide off him with a pop, looking up at him with swollen lips.

The sensation of your mouth trailing up him had him teetering on the edge of his high, “Fuck,” his hips stuttering against nothing as his head is thrown back. Attempting to push down the feeling he was so close to giving into.

Its so hot. Watching his frown get deeper as he screws his eyes shut, all the hard muscles on his body tightening.

His hand comes to his hair as he pulls on it, the orgasm he was so close to was finally receding. You’d just unintentionally edged him.

“Y’so fucking horny.” He pants, “can’t even wait to have me inside you.”

He lifts you up by your arms and pulls you on top of him, chest to chest. You can feel his length curving against your ass as his lips come down to suck on your nipple. Licking over it harshly without mercy.

“Want you to fuck me senseless, Harry.” You moan, back arching into him as you grind down against him, arousal practically dripping down onto his cock.

“Please,” you begin to beg as he works over your breast. You can’t seem to stop the words flowing from your lips, “I want you so bad.”

His mouth moves off your hardened nipple, looking you in the eyes, sighing out a deep breath.

You search his unreadable gaze, and there’s a sudden blanket of silence that falls over you both. Maybe a hint of realisation has set in, in that what you’re about to do is irreversible.

“I jus’ want y’to be sure.” He says, sobering the intense moment.

“Think about it for a moment, okay? Just take a second.” He kisses your cheek, hands rubbing delicately on your back, “I don’t want this to be something y’regret.”

You nod slowly, pursing your lips as you genuinely take the moment to consider everything. You are about to fuck a pirate. Which isn’t even the worst part.

Still, even as you think about the situation, and all the potential repercussions, you can’t find it in yourself to want to stop.

“I know we don’t know where this is going, and we both know we shouldn’t be doing this.” You speak quietly.

He hums in agreement, his pink lips pursed as he lets you talk, “but… no. I still want this.”

“And I rarely ever get to make decisions for myself… so thank you for letting me do that.” You say, voice sounding certain.

“Don’t thank me for that, that should be your right.” He states, brows furrowed.

“Shh, let me thank you anyway.” You nudge his nose to the side, kissing him gently. Lips clicking as you both take a moment to do just that.

“I think i have condoms,” he begins.

A laugh bubbles from your chest at his uncertainty, “You think,”

Shaking his head in a sort of amusement, “I haven’t used them in a long time, dove. I don’t bring girls in here.”

“Yet here I am.”

“Yet here you are.” He hums, hoping you pick up the underlining statement in his words. You are special. Much more than just a girl he’s got in his bed for the night.

“Wanna feel you.” You whispered, implying you don’t want to use anything. And honestly, your whole body ached to feel him for the first time without a condom on. Especially since you knew it wasn’t an issue with it.

“The court mandates us to have a rod…”

He frowns, “what do you mean?”

“So I don’t get pregnant before I’m married. It’s fine it’s reversible… they can take it out. They do it to most girls incase we start fooling around behind their backs.”

“Fuckin’ Hell. I hate them.” He spits, “Always controlling other people bodies.”

“If you’d prefer to—“ the sentence doesn’t even make it out of your mouth before he interrupts,

“No baby, that’s your choice.“ His tone is entirely certain, not wishing to have any influence on your decision.

“As long as you don’t have some kind of pirate STD, i wanna feel you, harry.” You tease, but tone still genuine.

It causes him to laugh, “No STD’s here.”

“Alright, good.” You nod, mouth forming a grin, “I trust you, if you trust me.”

His green gaze searches yours, and you feel the weight of your words for a few seconds until he breaks the silence, “I trust you.”

Nodding, you bring your lips back to his. Giving him a chaste kiss of appreciation that he smiles into.

But now that you’ve committed, that sense of need is rushing back into you. But this time, it’s like the flood gates are open, your movements starting to get quickly eager again.

That gentle kiss quickly turns heated as you grind down over his length, excited he gets to feel you skin against skin.

He mutters into your mouth, “Perfect baby, every inch of you.”

Immensely tired of waiting, your voice whines out a plea, “Fuck me harry, please.”

“M’gonna fuck you, don’t worry.” He whispers, grabbing your hips and flipping you around. Leaving your back pressed into the pillows as he pulls your waist to his.

He looks down at you, hair fanned out and big eyes looking at him with parted lips. His own gaze dips to the supple flesh of your tits, inexplicably excited to watch them bounce as he fucks you.

You can’t help but take the opportunity to commit his stance above you to memory, the muscles of his tan chest and the dark ink of his tattoos. The thought of scratching your nails along his laurel adorning hips…

He can’t take you staring at him like that. He leans down to pepper kisses along your neck— finally grabbing himself, a hiss coming from his teeth as he rubs his tip along you and over your clit.

“Tell me if it’s too much okay?” He says, lining his head up to your soaked entrance.

You sigh out several words of agreement, clutching his shoulders as he slowly starts to push into you.

With how turned on you are, and his early preparation with his fingers, his tip slides into you with some ease. There’s still some tension as he pushes in, “Relax, dove…”

His voice is so deep. He’s still clutching onto every ounce of his control, praying he can hold himself together when he hears you whine as you’re being stretched out by his cock.

“I won’t last long if you keep squirming like tha’.” He screws his eyes shut, holding you still by the hips.

“Fuck—“ it feels so different to anything you’ve ever felt. He curves into you like it was fate, like every inch of him was tailor made to you.

“Deeper, go deeper please…” you beg, nails scratching at the messy curls on his head.

His brain works on overdrive to process the fact he’s the first person to ever do this to you. That you’re experiencing this with him for the very first time.

Virginity is a tacky term for him, in the pirate world it’s regarded as the best thing you can take from a girl. The way it’s treated disgusts him. But the only thing for him that’s important is that your first experience is the best he can give it, and that you feel safe— treasured even. Exactly how you should.

“Takin’ it so well…” He sighs out, finally all the way inside of you.

“Kiss me, Harry.” You say, and he wastes no time leaning down to capture your mouth.

Kissing him with his cock fully pressed into you is an entirely different experience. As your tongue glides against his lower lip, he stutters his hips inside of you. Hand coming to play with your clit as he starts to move gently.

You roll your body against his uncontrollably, wrapping your hands into his hair to pull his lips further into yours.

“Feels so good—“ you groan into the corner of his lips, the stimulation you’re getting feels like it’s coming from all angles. Like you could float away.

“You feel so good. So tight around me, Y/N.” He thrusts a little harder as he speaks, moving back down to kiss you. It’s also harder this time, both your tongues clashing against each other as he starts to build a pace between your legs.

He can feel how coated he is with your arousal, your cunt only growing wetter as he ruts into you.

“Do what you want to me.” You pant out, your body aching for anything he’s willing to give to you.

His green eyes are almost swallowed entirely by his pupils, “Fuck.”

“Can y’take it rough y’think?” He asks, nose bumping yours as you hold eye contact.

You nod feverishly, and it causes his head to throw itself back as he starts to work himself into you harder. Taking the opportunity, you bring your lips to suck against the arch of his throat.

He never wants this to end. He wants to take you like this all night. Change locations, fuck you on the floor, against the wall, bent over his bed, even with you pressed into the counter of the bathroom so you can watch it all in the mirror.

His throat is vibrating as he moans, you can feel it against your lips. You’re licking over his tan skin with your tongue, swearing you can feel the beat of his pulse underneath.

You start to loose yourself in him again, hands drawing down to scratch against the muscles of his chest as you clench around his cock. He is captivating at the best of times, even when you’re 5 feet apart you can get swept up by him.

It’s like a hold down under a wave, you can’t get up above the surface long enough to catch a breath. You don’t know what way is up or down, you’re spinning and all you can feel is him, he is the water glistening with rays of sun that fully surrounds you.

Now amplify that by a hundred and maybe that begins to cover how he feels while he’s inside of you.

Moans start bubbling out of you with each thrust, you feel him hitting that spot inside of you everytime he ruts back into you, balls slapping against your ass as he gives you himself exactly how you’d asked.

He moves his hand off your clit and grabs your hips, angling them up, pulling you flush against him. Entirely rough as he fucks into you at a slightly new angle, this on its own sends you wild.

Your back arches off the bed, crying out as he slams into you, your wet cunt taking him as deep as it allows. Squeezing around him so hard his jaw is going lax, curls on his head sticking to his forehead.

“Good girl,” he groans out, “taking my cock so fuckin’ well.”

“Knew how good this would feel. M’gonna want you all the fucking time.” Slapping your ass, he keeps the filthy words coming from his mouth, “Gonna be bending you over any chance I get, angel.”

“Please…” you nod feverishly, “Need you all the time, need your cock.”

His tattooed arm comes from your hip and runs up along your side, hand cupping your bouncing tits. Squeezing one of them, he then trails up your neck and coming to cradle your jaw. His thumb slides past your lips and presses into your wet mouth.

You don’t need him to even tell you, you just suck on it, letting saliva pool around his warm finger that’s rubbing circles against your tongue. He draws it in and out, rubbing over your plump lips and tracing a line down your chin. Eventually coming to flick his thumb against your nipple— your own spit coating it.

All of this, and you start to feel the pressure build in your stomach, of course you couldn’t last long as he fucked you like this.

“Harry!” His name started to come from your lips over and over again. Legs beginning to shake, heart racing in your chest.

“Gonna come?” he grunts out, “this sweet pussy gonna come around my cock? Drip all over it?”

You cry out as his body pounds against you, his hands guiding your hips into the movement as your eyes physically can’t stay open. You swear stars are beginning to explode behind them.

They squeeze shut as your whole body almost stops working. Your heart and lungs feel like they completely seize as you hang onto the peak of your orgasm for a breathless moment.

“Fuck—“ he hissed out, feeling how tight you’ve gone around him, “I’m gonna finish with you, cmon baby.”

His fingers come to quickly rub over your clit— a few fast, tight circles, and that is all it takes.

Your moan reverberates around the four walls of his room as you come for the second time, bouncing against his cock as your whole body writhes in your climax.

“Harry, I’m coming!” Your voice is pitched so high, half whine half cry as you state the obvious. As if he missed the fast clenching of your entrance around him.

“Fuck— fuck, im—“ He can’t get the sentence out as his cock starts to pulsate, his balls tightening as he realises he’s about to follow along with you.

He gives a final, deep and hard thrust that brings him to his orgasm. You feel the heat of his come inside of you as the movements of his hips become sloppy with each squeeze of his cock.

The strength of his climax is only amplified by you edging him accidentally earlier, he feels this in his bones.

“Yessss—“ The feeling of him emptying out in your cunt is like heaven, “give it all to me, Captain.”

“Want all my come huh, fuckin’ filthy thing?” He rasps, body hunched over at the heat still bursting through his whole body.

You both ride out your highs with eachother. Hands coming to touch eachother all over as your bodies begin to slow down. His palms skate over your breasts, and your own fingers run up and down his tensed arms. The two of you start to stop shaking and squeezing as the high of your orgasms naturally close out.

The sound of panting is all that fills the room. Breaths laboured and exhausted.

“Baby,” he says, sounding entirely out of breath, “took me so good.”

He leans down to kiss you gently, and you whine against his lips, unable to find the words for anything that just happened.

Slowly, you make out with eachother. Tongues licking gently along lips and against one another. An entirely different sort of intimacy from the sex you just had, and a silent form of a thank you as he slides his cock out of you.

He groans into your mouth as he does it, feeling sensitive as he slips out of your warmth. He pulls away to look at the state of you, something he’s not willing to miss.

The sight was something he wish he could capture forever— no matter how filthy it sounds. Your pussy is swollen, all fucked out as his come is starting to drip out of you.

You watch him stare, a prideful smirk on his lips at the mess he’s made of you. Chocolate curls over his forehead, cheeks and lips flushed a warm red, and his tan skin glistening in a sweat.

Looking at him is like looking at a painting.

He longs to lean down and clean you up with his mouth, but it’s clear how exhausted you both are, so he gets up instead— despite you begging him to stay, he kisses your forehead, “Just getting a cloth to clean y’up. I’m coming back.”

Running water over a washcloth in the bathroom, he comes back out to wipe the fresh and damp material over you. You whine at the touch, the area sensitive from two intense orgasms. Despite the dirty nature of it, it makes him smile softly.

Tending to you after he’s fucked you breathless is almost half the treat. Watching you smile back at him, how content you look. Knowing you’re safe in his company.

Once you’re cleaned up, he chucks the dirtied cloth back in the bathroom to be dealt with later, not wasting any more time and coming to lay back down with you.

“Thank you.” You whispered, now that your brain is clearing you’re becoming unsure what to do now. Do you act as normal? He senses your sudden unease like instinct, wrapping a hand around your waist and tugging you into his chest.

“Don’t be shy, y’fine dove.” He kisses you again, hand running over your side comfortingly, “just had m’cock in you, no room left for that.”

You nod into the gentle kiss he’s giving you, pressing your body to his as you feel less anxious now he’s affirming everything is okay.

As you both lay with eachother, softly touching skin, you wonder what this will change. How the after effects of this will alter the future.

You’re hyperaware standing on top of a precipice of change. Despite wishing you could act naive, and attempt to believe that everything can go back as it once was— you know that will never happen. It’s something you’re both excited and terrified of. But in this moment, with the way the captain of this ship is holding you, touching you, kissing you— you can’t help but feel like everything is going to be alright.

———

taglist:

@saturnheartz @slap-me-harry @ilovehsstuff @ameerakane20 @matildasatellite @harrysslut7 @sunflowersey @styleswiftie @anotheryoutubefanpage @straightontilmornin @oknothanks26 @closureesny @angel-upon @brother-lauren @maddie7writes @tenaciousperfectionunknown

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for the next part<3

another a/n:

wow!! so hello

mini catchup on me being absent for literally half of last year!! 2024 I was sooo busy with my studies, but you’d all be proud since I pulled some really good grades last year, so my absence in creative writing field on tumblr did have a reason and at the very least paid off. but I missed posting soo much and I’m so happy to be back. unbelievably grateful for how many messages and inboxes I got about my writing over last year as well, I love you all so much.

i literally can’t believe it’s been so long since part 3 of pirates gold was released. really left yall high and dry😔 hopefully not after this part, I swear this is the longest piece I’ve ever wrote on tumblr, so I hope you all have enjoyed it. I have plenty of plans for part 5 in my notes app so yall keep ur eye out for that.

thank you for not only reading my silly authors note, but for reading this next part. your support means the world, and I am planning on being much more active this year so get excited for heaps of oneshots and other tidbits.

much love to you all, stay safe and hydrated I’ll see you very soon!!

P.S ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS I MISSED💔 I have reread this as much as my brain will allow me the last week, I will be making edits over the next little while to fix those mistakes but hopefully there’s not too many x

[separatetheyolk]

The Timeline Of Coming Out | Carlos Sainz X Trans!Reader

ʚɞ featuring: Carlos Sainz

ʚɞ You come out as transgender to your boyfriend and navigate your transition together

ʚɞ This is part one

ʚɞ notes: this will probably be very long and in two parts. I'm deciding not to do bottom surgery in this because 1, im not educated enough (despite being a trans guy) and 2, its much less common then top surgery. This is going to be very heavy on the affects of being transgender, highs and lows. That includes lows of depression, considerations of self harm and suicidal ideation, transphobia, but also highs like transiton accomplishments.

ʚɞ It is impossible for me to put trigger warnings on everything in this so it is a heavy read at your own risk. If you are easily triggered whether dysphoria, mental health or both, I suggest skipping this one <3

READ THE NOTES

You had been an anxious mess all day waiting for Carlos to get back from his bike ride. You had intended to wait, find the perfect moment and then tell him. But you'd been sitting on the conclusion for three months now and that perfect moment never came. When would the perfect moment even be to tell the man who fell in love with you as a woman that you were actually a man?

You were sat on the sofa, leg bouncing. You'd checked Carlos' location about six times in the last five minutes. On the way home, only about ten minutes away, but those ten minutes were starting to feel like an hour. You had a strong feeling this could be it. The end of the relationship you had with him. Carlos strongly supported the LGBT community, you knew that. And you had a strange suspicion he wasnt as straight as it seemed. It was never brought up because it was never important. Never had the need to be brought up. But if you were in his shoes, dating what you were believed to be a cis woman who'd come out as trans, you had to wonder would he rather just take a cis guy?

You checked his location a further three times in the remaining four minutes and just as you'd went to check the location a fourth, he walked in as if on cue, carrying in a dirty bike and left it in the hallway to be cleaned after his shower. "Mi amor? I'm back!" his voice echoed around the house, rounding the corner and spotting the back of your head where you sat on the sofa. "There you are. I'm going to head for a shower. Cuddle afterwards?" He suggested as he walked up to you from behind, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your head with a smile. He paused when he realised he didnt get a response, concern growing as he looked back down at you. "Baby?"

Your leg continued to bounce, picking at the skin around fake nails you'd worn in a desperate attempt to feel more feminine. Shut the side of you down that screamed it was all wrong. You were a guy. But it had been useless. You didnt realise how the pad of your thumb presed on the end of one of the nails until it snapped off. How poetic?

"Baby? Hey.. What is it? Somethings wrong, what is it?"

Now or never y/n. "Do.. You think the shower could wait? I need to speak to you about something." Get it over with now.. Before you chickened out again.

Without a second thought, Carlos made his way around to the front of the sofa. He drug the coffee table closer, sitting on it with your legs inbetween his own and took your hands after taking the helmate off. "Have I done something to upset you?" Oh those eyes.. Big brown doe eyes. Eyes that could get him out of any trouble when it came to you.

"No.. No its not." You sighed softly, pulling one hand from Carlos' and rubbed your face with it. "It's me.."

"Did you break something? My love I don't care about any of that, only if youre hurt-"

"No- Carlos I didn't break anything.." more like trying to fix? Build something? "I.. I've been feeling off the past few months-"

"You're pregnant?"

"No! God no! I mean. Not- not right now. Not yet at least. Maybe in the future but not right now just- please. Give me a minute to think." You'd had this whole thing planned out in your head. Exactly how you wanted to tell him down to every tiny detail. But now he was sat in front of you? You couldn't find that damn script. Burried under tidlewaves of anxiety. Swept away like debris in a tsunami.

You peeled off a piece of dry skin from your lip using your teeth, licked your lips, swallowed thickly and took a shaky but deep breath. "Something's not added up with me. Hasn't for a while but I think I figured out what it was a few months ago. Tried to ignore it, tried to change it but.. Thats not possible- Carlos I'm transgender." You decided to just rip it off when you'd realised you were beginning to ramble. Keeping your eyes fixed to the floor, scared to look up.

Trans? You hadn't shown any signs.. No. That was a lie. He'd walked past the bathroom plenty of times, door half open, checking yourself side on in the mirror. He'd thought it was some eating disorder at first.. Concern was there but your habits hadn't changed. There was no sneaking off to the bathroom, there was no visible guilt, there was no weight loss or gain. He hadn't wanted to bring it up without proof. Scared that if it was that, he'd scare you off and you'd made more of an effort to hide it. There had even been a few times where hed spotted you tie your hair in a bun and hide it with the hood of his hoodie before angrily taking it back down. Looking back, it just seemed like you couldnt get the bun to sit right. Now? It seemed like you were scolding yourself for even toying with the idea of masculinity. And checking yourself in the mirror? Checking your chest. God how could be be so stupid?

You could hear the clock ticking away seconds, once background noise now the only sound in the room. After you'd counted fifteen or so ticks, you looked to the man in front of you, still holding your hand but silent. Shocked. You, of course, began to take that as a bad reaction. "I.." you hung your head as you stood. "I'll go stay at a friends place. Pick up my stuff when I've gotten my own spot." You muttered.

That seemed to snap Carlos out of his thoughts.

"No- no baby wait." He jumped to his feet as you began to make your way upstairs to back a bag. Hand moving to grasp your own again. Not enough to hurt, but enough that it would take some force to get loose. Instictively, you snapped your head to face him, anxiety still at an alltime high. "It's fine- it doesn't change a thing with us." He paused. Well, it did. He had a boyfriend, not a girlfriend. Maybe not the best choice of words but he hoped it came across as intended.

"Just.. let me take a shower. Okay? You order your favourite, I'll get a shower, and we'll talk about it all over food." His eyes never left your face. "Just.. Don't leave. We can talk about all of this but I stiil want you. Whatever you look like."

You watched him for a moment, swallowing back tears. You let him finish his sentence, opening your mouth and closing it repeatedly at first. Unable to trust your own voice. But he waited. Of course he did. "You're sure you want.. Me?" you eventually spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Of course." Carlos responded without any hesitation. "I want you. Only you." He pulled you closer gently with your hand, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I'd give you a hug.. But I stink of sweat." He chuckled softly. "Go get comfy in bed and order that food. I'll join you in fifteen."

Fifteen turned into thirty. Carlos stood against the counter as he waited for his shower to heat up. Scrolling reddit forums and informational blogs about what transgender was exactly. He knew the very basics. Someone who didn't align with their sex at birth. In your case, that would be female. That was simple enough. But the more detailed stuff he didnt quite understand. Scrolling through blogs about dysphoria, about how it can affect mental states, about things that could eleveate it. Discovering what a binder was, the different ways to take testosterone if that was something you ultimately wanted, top surgery, the different types and the costs, learnt what a deadname was, how to change names and gender markers, he even came across a reddit post about someone looking for masculine haircuts with photos of other peoples in the comments. He saved that tab in his web browser just incase you needed some ideas.

About forty minutes after you got into bed, Carlos came out with damp hair and in boxers. You, still in his hoodie and joggers you'd picked out in the morning. Although there was now an absense of fake nails. The TV was on, Brooklyn Nine-Nine playing, but you hadn't exactly been paying attention. Your eyes followed him as he made his way to your shared dresser, tugging out a random tank top from a half open drawer and pulled it on. Hugging his body tight. Note to self - don't ever wear that tank top

You then followed him as he pulled back the covers on his side of the bed, slipping under them and pulled them up to his hip. "C'mere my love.." he mumbled, holding an arm out for you to slip under. Reluctantly, you done just that. Despite his earlier reassurances, you still had this nagging thought that he'd leave. Realise what he was getting into, how much it would cost, how it would affect his reputation and he'd break off your relationship.

Carlos on the other hand, was set firm on his decision. It didnt change how he loved you. If you could love him, deal with the stress of his racing career that came with it, then he could love you and support you though the stress your transition was bound to hold on you. He didn't care how much it cost, there was no cost that was too expensive if it would make you happy, comfortable. He didn't care that there would be hard days, hard weeks, he'd support you though them so you'd see the other side. "Okay.. So where do you want to start with this?" he asked as he settled an arm around you, resting his hand on the small of your back and slipping under the hoodie. Rubbing small cirlces on the base of your spine

Where did you want to start with this? There was so much to discuss could you get through it all in one conversation? "I.. My name I guess?" You questioned, glancing up to him breifly before looking to the TV. Still not paying attention to whatever Jake was up to. "I was thinking maybe y/n? It might change but that's the one I think fits me best right now."

"Then y/n it is.." He murmered into your hair, pressing a kiss to your head firmly in an act of reassurance. "I done some reading while waiting for my shower to warm up.."

"So that's what took you so long?" You questioned, partially in a teasing manner, partly from disbelief that he'd actually researched it.

Carlos chuckled softly, deep with a rumble to his chest. "Yes, mi amor. That's what took me so long.." The conversation fell into silence for a moment, both waiting for the other to continue it. Eventually, Carlos continued to speak. "I learned about.. dys.. Dysphoria?" He looked down to you, checking to see if he'd said it right. Watching you nod against his chest.

"There's a lot of different kinds? I dont know if thats right but.. one that was talked about a lot was chest dysphoria. I spotted you looking to yourself in the mirror a few times over the last few months. Was that.. That?"

"Yeah.." you whispered, shame suddenly washing over you. It sounded so pathetic to you. Upset about a pair of tits.

"What.. Does it feel like?" He asked, clearly trying to not sound insensitive.

You paused for a moment. Thinking of a way to word it so the other would understand. "Some days are better than others. Some days I forget I have them, usually lazy days spent in bed. Other days I want to claw them off. I look at the knives in the kitchen and just.. Imagine what it would be like to hack them off. It's like.. They're there. Against my will, they're mine, but not mine."

"Is that something you're scared you'd do? Hurt yourself?"

Again, you paused. A therapy session wasn't on your cards for the day. Opening doors you hadn't put much thought into.

"It crossed my mind a few times. Not like.. I was going to do it. I hear stories of how it brings relief and i wonder if its true. But then I hear that it becomes more of an addiction then anything and I decide against doing it."

Carlos frowned softly, hold tightening around you. "Do I need to hide anything?"

"No." You answered immediately. "I don't think it's something I'll actually end up doing."

"But you'll tell me if it gets to that stage?"

"... Yes." You decided, leaning more into him and wrapped an arm around his waist.

Carlos didn't miss the hesitation in your voice. But decided to trust you. "Okay.. I also read that there were binders. Is that something you might be interested in?"

You nodded, reluctantly and small, but there. You felt so stupid for hesitating. This was your life now. But still, even then part of you hated yourself for letting it be.

"I also read that they can be quite dangerous. But I'll have a look for some shops that do better quality one's and we'll get you measured. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah.." you whispered quietly, pushing your face into Carlos' chest. "But.. You dont have to do all this. You don't even have to be with me if you don't want to."

"Well its a good thing I want to, huh?"

ʚɞ Okay so i know spanish bake-off would be first but I didn't realise how long this one is going to be and I wanted a head start to it

[kirsteingf]

Rosaries & Blasphemy

What do you even do when you have an inappropriate dream about your priest? You confess to your sins, of course!

words: 6.2k (sedate me)

cw: priest!geto, female reader, religious themes (obvs), oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, creampie, he binds your wrists with a rosary, multiple orgasms, pet names (sweetheart, darling), manipulation, power imbalance, probably some more that i cant think of rn...see you guys in hell (this is purely fantasy and not meant to offend. If you're uncomfortable with any of these themes, simply scroll.)

I didnt proofread this sorry

The early morning sun filtered through a stained glass window, casting amber hues upon the dark oak altar at the front of the room.

You sat near the front, eyes drifting towards Father Geto as he prepared for today's service. His dark hair was pulled back into a neat bun, a few strands framing his sharp features.

Despite his commanding presence, his voice was soft and feathery, and the smile on his lips was warm as he welcomed you all. His gaze rested on you, lingering for a moment before landing on someone else.

The service began, Geto's voice as captivating as always. He knew just how to keep the entire congregation’s attention, weaving scriptures with a depth and intensity that left you all enamoured by his words.

He spoke of faith, of purity and resisting the temptation of sin, his slender fingers resting on the edge of the altar as he scanned the faces that had gathered before him that morning.

“Even the most devout can be led astray.” His eyes settled on you, an unreadable expression on his face. He was smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

You didn't even realise how tense his unwavering stare had made you until it moved onto someone else, and you felt your shoulders relax with a small sigh of relief.

“Sometimes,” He continued, eyes dropping to the scriptures in front of him, “It is the exploration of one's desires that leads to true understanding. In the end, He is rich with mercy.”

Geto paused, letting his words hang in the air for a few moments while he opened his book to the ribboned page.

“Now, let us pray,” He voiced gently, a smile on his face as he watched you press your palms together, bringing them up to your face and bowing your head slightly.

Though your eyes were closed, you could feel the way his eyes bored into you. Your body felt hot, palms sweaty against each other while you tried not to squirm under his scrutiny.

You tried your best to listen as he read the prayer, words rolling off his tongue with a practiced grace. His voice should draw you in, just as it has done many times before– just as it did earlier.

Instead, all you could think about was him. Why did he keep staring at you? Was it disapproval? Judgement? Something else entirely different that made your heart race and your breathing shallow?

No.

Maybe you were imagining things after all. You stole a glance at him, his eyes focused on the pages that rested beneath his fingertips.

Shame flooded you when you dipped your head back down, your nose bumping against your index fingers. He finished the prayer with an ‘amen’, to which the congregation repeated, and closed the service.

Everyone slowly dispersed, chatting quietly among one another whilst you lingered behind. Geto was occupied with an older woman by the altar, most likely receiving praise on the service he'd just given.

Your eyes lingered on him for a few moments, watching as he said his goodbyes to the woman before you decided to follow the last few stragglers outside.

The soft call of your name halted your footsteps, and you turned to see him walking towards you. The golden chain around his neck shone in the sunlight, the cross pendant swaying against his robes.

“Father,” You spoke, turning to face him completely.

“How are you today?” His voice was as warm and welcoming as the smile on his face. “You seemed a little distracted during the service. Is something troubling you?”

So you weren't imagining it.

You swallowed, shaking your head slowly. “No, I'm fine,” You started with a small smile, “Your sermon was inspiring as always.”

He exhaled quietly through his nose, his smile widening a little in amusement.

“Inspiring, hmm? Do you agree with what I said?” He asked, stepping slightly closer to you.

Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag, nails unintentionally digging into your palm. “Which part, Father?”

“Even the most devout can be led astray,” He recited, eyes scanning your face to gauge your reaction.

You thought about his words, your shoulders tense as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

“Oh, well…I'm not really sure,” You stated with a shaky laugh, letting your hand fall to your side.

Geto maintained steady eye contact, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as he watched his words hit exactly how he wanted them to.

“What about you?” He asked suddenly, tucking his bible under his arm in one fluid motion, his robes swaying with his movements.

You swallowed, his question causing any words that sat on your tongue to get stuck. You cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself. “What about me, Father?”

“Could you be led astray?”

The question made your breath hitch, your eyes widening as you blinked a few times. The silence that followed was thick with some sort of tension, one that had your mind racing while you tried to think of the right words to say.

Geto looked at you with an amused expression– your reaction was exactly what he wanted to see.

“I apologise,” He said, bowing his head curtly.

You cleared your throat, shaking your head with a polite smile. “N-No, don't apologise Father,” You stammered, your cheeks noticeably hotter, “But, I should probably get going.”

He hummed in understanding, nodding his head. “Of course. My door is always open if you are ever feeling troubled,” He reminded you before turning away, his footsteps echoing throughout the church as he walked away.

You stood there for a few moments, the previous conversation hanging heavy in the air, loaded with implications you simply didn't know how to face. Turning to leave, you stole a glance back at him as he did the same, the exchange burning with an intensity that left you on edge.

𓆩♱𓆪

Waking up a panting, sweaty mess wasn't anything new to you. Nightmares usually left you in this state, the room eerily darker in these moments.

But this was different. Your room was hot, a thin sheen of sweat covering the exposed skin of your body and your heart pounded against your ribcage for a whole new reason.

You swore you could still feel his hands on you, his slender fingers pushing your thighs apart, thumbs searing prints onto the plush flesh. The way he looked up at you from his knees as his tongue-

No. No.

You could feel your pulse in places you'd never felt before, and the damp spot in your panties was undeniable. The cross above your dresser caught your attention in your peripheral vision, a new wave of shame washing over you.

How were you going to face him now? After yesterday's conversation and now this, there was no way you'd be able to make eye contact with him.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, shaking your head and raking your fingers through your hair as if you were willing the thoughts to go away.

Father Geto was a kind man, devoted to his faith and the people of the church, you shouldn't be thinking of him like this. You groaned internally, finally standing from the bed and making your way over to the bathroom.

Maybe a shower is what you needed to clear your mind.

The water was scalding, but it made you feel a bit cleaner as you tried to forget what your subconscious had shown you last night.

“He is rich with mercy.” Geto's words played in your mind, your eyes closed as the water dripped down your face. Perhaps this could be forgiven.

It wasn't as if you had acted on these thoughts, right? You couldn't control what you dreamed about. So why did you feel so ashamed? Maybe it was because, deep down, you wanted-

No, that can't be it. You denied that thought before it even had the chance to fully form in your mind, shaking your head and squeezing your eyes tighter.

Twisting the tap, the water shut off. You slid the shower door open, the cool air of the bathroom nipping at your damp skin causing goosebumps to form. You sighed with a small shiver, squeezing the water from your hair before stepping onto the fluffy shower mat.

You didn't know if it was because you were alone with your thoughts, or if it was the fact that you simply didn't want to forget, but he wouldn't leave your mind. You had to confess.

Confess to your shameful sins and allow Father Geto to reprimand you, remind you of your oath to remain pure, and then make pray for forgiveness from Him.

You wanted to be good, just as you had done for the many years of your life spent devoted to Him and the church.

You wrapped a warm towel around your body, exhaling a small sigh of relief at the little comfort it provided.

By the time you had finished getting yourself ready, the sun had risen fully, golden rays trickling in deceivingly through the partially open blinds. The air outside was cool, and the breeze colder as it blew against your skin.

Church was a lot less busy compared to your usual visits, only two other cars in the car park when you arrived. The usual comfort the place provided was overcome with a new feeling of discomfiture, one so strong you almost got back in your car and went home again.

Swallowing those feelings down, you forced yourself to go ahead. The familiar smell of polished wood and incense filled your nose as you entered, the large doors echoing through the sanctum as they closed behind you.

“Back so soon?” His voice made you jump, your heart rate quickening at the mere sound of it. You turned around, facing him with wide eyes.

“Father,” You said, your voice trembling slightly, “Yes, sorry to intrude.”

Geto shook his head, greeting your startled expression with a warm smile. “You're always welcome here.”

You nodded, all of a sudden finding it hard to keep eye contact with him as last night's dream came flooding back.

“Are you okay?” He asked, a look of slight concern flashing across his face as he studied yours. He motioned for you to follow him to his office, your body seemingly moving on its own after him.

He pulled a chair out for you, allowing you to sit before he took his own seat opposite.

“What's troubling you?”

You squeezed your lips into a thin, straight line, gaze settling on your hands that rested upon your lap.

“I-” You paused, looking up at him with bated breath, “I need to confess something.” You said meekly, balling the material of your dress into your fists.

Father Geto nodded in understanding, a small hum leaving his throat. His expression remained impassive, but his eyes narrowed as he studied you.

“Go on,” He urged, his hands clasped together atop the mahogany table that separated the two of you.

“I've been having sinful thoughts…a dream,” Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper as your gaze avoided his, “About…about you.”

Surprisingly, he didn't flinch upon hearing your words. Didn't cast you out for being a dirty sinner, or tell you to find God elsewhere. Instead, his feline-like eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you from across the table.

“It is not uncommon for such temptations to reveal themselves through dreams,” He began reassuringly, which lifted a fraction of the guilt that laid on your shoulders.

“It's important for us to confront these thoughts and understand where they come from– to explore them.” Geto's tone was even, calm and collected as he talked you through your confession. “What was this dream about?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, a mix of embarrassment and shame flooding your being. He watched intently as your inner turmoil etched itself onto your features, lips parted as your words got caught in your throat.

You swallowed thickly, Geto's authoritative presence setting your nerve endings alight. “Well, you were with me in a way that isn't holy,” You explained sheepishly, finally looking up at him. “I feel so ashamed, yet I can't stop thinking about it.”

Father Geto was quiet for a moment, carefully considering his next words, the tick-tick of the tall grandfather clock seemingly getting louder with every passing moment of silence.

“Shame can be a powerful thing,” He finally spoke, his voice almost soothing, “But, it's important to realise that we are all human. We all have desires we don't truly understand.”

You blinked, expecting him to chastise you or perhaps give you a stern lecture on purity and abstinence, not meet you with understanding.

“Even you, Father?” You asked, watching as his eyes flashed a hint of something you couldn't quite place.

“I'm human, am I not?” He replied, amusement in his tone. You felt embarrassed by his answer, nodding slowly.

“Oh- o-of course,” You stammered, the laugh that followed coming out more nervous than you intended.

“Dreams are beyond our control, but they often mirror subconscious desires you didn't even know you had.”

Geto’s eyes darkened, his stare hard enough to pin you in place in your seat. He was composed, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward, his chin resting on his interlocked fingers.

You remained silent, your tongue suddenly unable to move within your drying mouth.

“You're a respectable woman, seeking purity and righteousness,” He murmured, head tilting to the side, “But tell me, do you feel at peace? Happy?”

You hesitated, his words tugging at the fraying edges of your faith. “I…I believe I do, Father,” You replied, though the conviction in your voice wavered.

“You believe?” He repeated, seemingly entertained by your answer. “It's a yes or no question.” His words were spoken in a low, controlled tone, eyes glinting in a calculated intensity.

For the first time, you questioned your beliefs. You were happy before this dream, right? Happy living a life of faith devoted to the church, to the Lord, where the only thing you desired was the solace this place brought you.

But Geto's words had you questioning everything. What did it mean to explore your desires, to understand them?

“This is all confusing,” You finally spoke, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your cardigan that rested on your thighs.

“That's why I'm here to guide you, hmm?” He assured you, offering you his overturned hands. His slender fingers wrapped around yours as you placed your hands in his, thumbs gently tracing over your knuckles.

“Let me guide you through this.” His voice made your heart beat hard against your ribcage, his touch almost familiar to you. You nodded slowly, eyes never leaving his.

“First, why do you think these desires were revealed to you?” He asked, his tone firm but calm.

You looked down in thought at the way his large hands engulfed yours, the sleeve of his robe gently brushing against your fingertips.

“I don't know…to try and tempt me? Maybe it was a test,” You suggested, looking back up at him. That had to be it, right? You knew desire and temptation themselves weren't wrong, but acting upon them as Eve did with the serpent– that was when it became sinful.

He spoke your name, squeezing your wrists between his thumb and forefingers.

“God created us with the capacity for desire. To explore it is not necessarily to stray away from His path,” He spoke, meticulously choosing his words, giving you no room to question him. “What we view as sinful might just be part of our growth– a way to deepen our understanding of our faith.”

His words hung between you like forbidden fruit, tempting you to question everything you'd believed in– everything he'd taught you.

“Are…are you saying it's okay to give in sometimes?” You asked, the heat from his fingers suddenly blistering against your skin.

Geto chuckled, leaning closer to you. He released his grip on your wrists, resting his chin on his hands once more. “There's no right answer,” He spoke, his voice closer– more intimate, “It's all about you. What do you think is right?”

“I-I don't know what to think.” You pulled your wrists back, resting them in your lap. Geto was someone you trusted, someone you felt was the answer to all of your troubles. He presented himself as such, his saccharine smile and honeyed voice drawing you in, like a spider spinning its web.

His silence encouraged you to think, to give him an answer he deemed satisfactory. “Maybe…maybe it wouldn't be so bad to give in sometimes.”

A small smirk flashed across his lips, barely detectable in your naïveté.

“But, would God forgive me for allowing temptation to consume me?” You asked, worry etching itself onto your features.

Geto's eyes softened slightly, sitting up straight and looking down at you with an unreadable expression. “God forgives even the most depraved of sins.”

He was right.

“He led you here in the first place, did He not? To this church, to me.” He stood from his seat, his shoes clicking against the hardwood floor as he walked round to you.

“Perhaps this was his plan all along. After all,” He paused, resting his hand on the back of your leather chair, twisting it so you were facing him, “Who better than to cleanse you of your sins than the man who helped lead you astray in the first place?”

You were frozen in place, looking up at him innocent and wide-eyed as your heart pounded against your chest, heat rising to your cheeks. Geto looked almost hungry, as if he was devouring you with his eyes– the same way he looked up at you in your dream.

“F-Father,” You breathed, his hands coming out to grip the arm-rests, caging you between him and the chair. He replied with your name, his voice low as he leaned closer to you.

“That dream of yours,” He started, gently pushing a strand of hair away from your face. “What is it I was doing to you?”

You swallowed thickly, your senses completely enveloped by him. He smelled as sweet as spun sugar, his scent almosy as intoxicating as his lingering touch.

“You were using your mouth,” You stammered, embarrassment burning your cheeks at the admission. Geto quirked an eyebrow, his lip curling into a knowing smirk.

“Oh?” Straightening himself up, he slowly unbuttoned his cassock, the golden trim reflecting the small amount of light that illuminated his office. He turned away, hanging the garment on the back of his door, the lock clicking as he looked at you.

You could breathe easier when he wasn't so close to you, but your heart rate wouldn't slow as much as you willed it to, and you couldn't help but feel hot. Your body tensed when you heard his footsteps once again.

“Shall I get on my knees before you, for once?” He asked, unbuttoning the cuffs of his black dress-shirt sleeves, your eyes following as he rolled them up to his elbows. His skin was pale, blue veins prominent across his forearms, his muscles twitching as he moved. He placed a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

Your eyes met his, your lips parting as you exhaled a soft breath, nodding silently up at him. He shook his head, his thumb gently tracing along your bottom lip.

“I need to hear you say it, darling,” He hummed, slowly tugging your bottom lip away from your teeth before letting it go, his hand returning to his side.

“Y-Yes father,” You whispered, captivated by his purposeful touches, your mind full of nothing but him. “Please.”

Geto lowered himself to the floor, resting his hands on your knees and slowly prying them apart. He revelled in how pliant you were for him already, allowing yourself to be moved in any way he pleased, should he need to.

“Which do you desire more,” he started, his fingertips tracing along the sensitive skin of your inner-thigh, hauling the skirt of your dress up with it. “My hand? Or…” He trailed off, leaning closer until you could feel his hot breath fanning against the other. “My mouth?”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping onto the armrests as if trying to ground yourself. No one had ever touched you like this, not even yourself. You stared down at him, watching as his lips dragged teasingly against your plush skin.

“Both.”

“Both?” Geto paused, a soft chuckle leaving his mouth. “Greed is also a sin, you know,” He remarked, smirking up at you from between your legs. The shame that washed over you from his words felt different, going straight to your core.

“I-I know,” You stammered, head too clouded to even begin thinking about formulating a proper response. You were restless, his stilled touch so close yet so far.

“Please,” Your voice came out as almost a whimper, spurring him to continue inching closer to your middle.

“Patience is a virtue, my dear.” Geto's fingers teased the material of your panties, his lips pressing against you as he trailed open mouthed kisses along your thigh. His index finger hooked under the hem, pulling them back slightly before letting the elastic snap against your skin.

He watched with a smirk as your body jolted above him, a gasp leaving your mouth from the sting. His fingers tapped against your hip, pulling away to sit on the heels of his feet.

“Lift up for me.”

You used the chair as leverage, lifting yourself up so he could peel your underwear down your thighs. His eyes drank in every inch of your flustered appearance– the rise and fall of your chest, the clumsy way in which you moved under his command, the way your eyes avoided his piercing gaze.

It was better than he could've ever imagined.

Stuffing your panties in his pants pocket, he hooked his hand underneath your right knee, slinging your leg over his shoulder. The skirt of your dress pooled on your stomach, the cool air hitting your exposed pussy making you inhale sharply.

Geto licked his lips, biting back a groan at the mere sight of you sprawled out for him like this. He leaned down, the heat of his face radiating against you. It was perverse, the low, pleasured hum leaving his throat after inhaling your sweet scent.

“Heavenly,” He murmured, eyes flicking up to meet yours as he dipped his head down, placing a soft kiss just shy of your pussy. You squirmed beneath him, breaths coming out in short, needy puffs.

“Please, stop teasing-” You cut yourself off with a gasp, Geto licking a stripe through your slit, his fingers spreading you open for him. It was warm, igniting an inextinguishable fire throughout your body that seemed to spread all the way to your nerve endings.

“Taste so good,” He breathed, savouring your taste with another slow lick, the tip of his tongue lightly circling your clit once before he pulled away. He slipped his middle finger between his lips, your eyes glued to the way his tongue swirled around the digit.

“Both, hm?” He said, his fingertip gently brushing over your hole. You nodded, bottom lip pulled between your teeth, stifling any noises that threatened to escape. He slowly pushed inside, watching as your eyebrows knitted together in slight discomfort from the intrusion.

It quickly subsided the moment Geto leant down again, flicking his tongue over your clit. Pleasure overwhelmed your senses, your mouth hanging open to let the string of quiet moans slip from your throat.

He slowly began to move his finger, your walls gripping him back inside the moment he pulled back. His tongue matched the slow pace, fluidly slipping over the sensitive bud in a way that left your mind clouded.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, lips moving against your pussy as he spoke. His finger didn't stop moving, curling up ever so slightly when you opened your mouth to speak, your words getting caught in your throat. Geto smirked, lips wrapping around your clit as a second finger prodded at your entrance.

“Feels so good,” You managed to say, head leaning back against the chair as he slipped the other digit in alongside the first. He hummed in acknowledgement, suckling gently on your clit as you adjusted to the new stretch.

If this was sin, you had no idea why. How could something this good be sinful? If God didn't want you to feel pleasure like this, why would He give Father Geto the ability - the knowledge - to make you feel this way? Everything was blurred– you didn't know what to feel anymore.

“Oh, God,” You whined, unable to even feel shame at how easily the blasphemous words spilled from your lips.

Geto groaned against you, quickening the pace of his fingers as he pulled away, just enough for him to be able to speak.

“Don't worry,” He started, curling his fingers up into that sweet spot inside you, “He's watching. C'mon, sweetheart, beg Him for forgiveness.”

Your head snapped down to look at him, pussy clenching around his fingers as you stared at him wide-eyed. Your cheeks were hot, a mix of shame, guilt and pleasure surging through your quivering form.

“W-What?” You stuttered, a moan following as he snapped his wrist into you in one fluid motion.

“You heard me,” His eyebrows quirked upwards, almost as if he was warning you and he curled his fingers once more. “Beg Him, or I'll stop.”

You whimpered pathetically, looking up to the ceiling. Your fingernails dug into the leather of the armrests, and you opened your mouth.

“Is that how we pray?” Geto cut you off before you even had the chance to speak. His free hand gripped your wrist, pushing it towards your face, followed closely by the other one. You opened your hands, pressing your palms together and looking up once again.

“That's a good girl,”

“P-Please forgive me for the sins I have… I-I am committing,” You corrected yourself, speaking through moans. Your body trembled as Geto's tongue matched his fingers' relentless pace. An unfamiliar heat was building up at your core, like a coil tightening inside you.

“Don't stop,” You whined, your fingers interlocking with each other as if you were pleading with him. He had no plans to, feeling the way your pussy pulsed around his fingers– he knew you were close.

Your hand came down, gently untangling the hair-tie from Geto's hair so you could thread your fingers through the silky strands, tugging as your hips involuntarily rocked against his tongue.

A low groan left his throat, the slight sting causing his cock to twitch against his pants, his fingers repeatedly curling inside you.

“Don't stop, don't stop,” You chanted, until no more noise could come out. A wave of intense pleasure washed over you, and you couldn't help the next string of high pitched moans that left your parted lips.

Geto helped you ride out your orgasm, continuing his movements until he felt your body go limp against the chair, your grip on his hair loosening. You panted, eyes glued to the cross that hung on the wall behind Geto's desk.

He followed your gaze briefly before looking back at you, licking his lips as he slowly withdrew his fingers from your sopping cunt.

“Open,” He commanded, using his free hand to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him. He slipped his fingers into your mouth, the sweet taste of yourself engulfing your taste buds.

Geto watched as your tongue ran between his fingers, collecting your own juices and greedily swallowing them down.

“Good girl,” He hummed, pulling his hand away and gently tapping against your cheek, leaving a sheen of saliva on your skin. “Now stand up for me.”

You obeyed, legs moving before your brain could even register his demand. He took your wrist in his hand, leading you to his desk and placing the other on the back of your neck.

“Bend over.”

The desk felt cool under your hands, the smell of polish filling your nose. Your thighs trembled from your previous orgasm, heart still pounding in your chest.

Geto's hand gently squeezed your neck, his thumb and forefinger briefly cutting off the circulation in your veins. He pushed your face against the desk, blood rushing to your head when he released his grip, his fingertips teasingly tracing down your spine.

“Do you know how many times I've thought about you like this?” He purred, pushing your dress up above your ass.

He took your wrists in his hand and pinned your arms behind your back, the other reaching for the onyx beaded rosary that laid across the Bible beside you.

“How many times I've imagined being able to break you like this–” He expertly wrapped the beads around your wrists, hooking two fingers into the loop and tugging it tight.

You hissed as the beads dug into your skin, a small whimper leaving your mouth from the dull ache. Geto bent forward, his clothed cock pressing against your bare pussy as his lips ghosted the shell of your ear.

“I can only thank God for leading you to me,” He whispered, breath fanning across your skin making you shiver. How could something so wrong make you feel so good?

He stood up straight, the sound of his belt buckle clicking against leather accompanying the sound of your quickening breaths. His zip followed, and he pulled his pants down enough to free his cock from the restrictive clothing.

A breathy moan left his throat as he stroked himself a few times, using his precum to slide his slender fingers over his length.

“Are you ready for me?” He asked, stepping forwards so he could slide his tip through your wetness, rubbing it slowly against your sensitive clit.

You nodded, pussy tightening around nothing as he teased you. You heard Geto click his tongue, tugging on the rosary once more, causing you to let out a small whine.

“Tell me, I need to hear you say it.”

“I-I'm ready,” You mewled, your wrists writhing against the harsh dig of the beads. “Please, I need it.”

Geto smirked, stopping his teasing and positioning himself at your entrance. It took every bit of restraint he had not to snap his hips forwards into your heat, hissing through gritted teeth as he pushed his tip past the initial tightness.

The fact that you were pure, untouched and completely at his disposal ignited something inside him, his dick twitching as your walls enveloped him.

“Fuck,” He groaned, drawn out and low as his head rolled back.

You felt full, more-so than when he used his fingers, his length reaching places you weren't even sure were possible.

“Relax,” He whispered, placing a soothing hand on your back as he bottomed out. You let out a shaky breath, your pussy tightening around him impossibly more.

His cock dragged deliciously against your walls as he slowly withdrew from you, his hand moving to grip your hip as if steadying himself.

Shame wasn't even enough to deter you now, each little reminder of your faith just adding to the heat pooling inside you. It was wrong, beyond so, but everything he made you feel turned into pure pleasure.

Geto set an agonisingly slow pace, relishing the way your body responded to his every touch– your fingernails digging into your palms every time he pushed in, the quiet noises you made when his tip bumped against that sweet spot inside you, and the way you panted when he pulled almost the whole way out.

“More, p-please,” You stammered, pushing your hips back into his almost desperately. Geto chuckled above you, his cock twitching at your plea as he began to fuck into you faster.

“Such a greedy girl, aren't you?” He breathed, fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. He let the rosary loosen around your wrists, the beads sprawling across your back as he reached around to slip two fingers past your lips.

“Suck,” He ordered, and you obeyed. You moaned around him, your tongue swirling around the two digits as best as you could with your body jolting forwards against his thrusts.

“That's it,” He encouraged, pulling his fingers out and reaching down to rub light circles into your clit. “Good girl.”

Moans and whimpers left your mouth with every snap of his hips, your legs buckling beneath you with the added pleasure of his fingers– it was unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You could feel your core tightening, that familiar feeling building up inside you as his cock bullied into your g-spot, his fingers working to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me, angel,” His sweet voice was a stark contrast to the way his dick slammed into you, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

It didn't take long for your second orgasm to come crashing down on you, your pussy clamping tight around him as he fucked you through it, a string of curses and praise leaving his mouth.

Geto wasn't done, his hips keeping the same relentless pace as he chased his own high, his hand coming up to thread through your hair. He gripped onto it, pulling your limp body up so he could see your face as he pounded into you.

You looked almost pitiful– your mouth hanging open, tears welling in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure he was inflicting upon you. To Geto, you looked angelic. Felt it too.

He gripped your chin, tilting your head back to reveal the expanse of your neck. You could feel his ragged breaths against your skin as his lips trailed down to where your shoulder began.

“I'm gonna fill you up, mhm?” He whispered, a hint of desperation in his voice as he tried to maintain his rhythm. “Make you mine completely.”

You nodded, putty in his hands as he sunk his teeth into your skin in an attempt to stifle the broken moan that left his throat. After a few more sloppy thrusts, he finally felt a wave of pleasure wash over him, stilling inside you as he released ropes of cum into your waiting pussy.

Geto released his grip on your hair, and you both reached out to steady yourselves against the desk as he rode out his orgasm.

“Holy fuck,” He breathed, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. The air around you was hot– Hot enough that you wouldn't be surprised if Father Geto had landed you straight in Hell.

You felt guilty.

Geto hissed quietly as he pulled out of you, his release dripping down your thighs, some landing on the stone tile beneath your feet. The feeling made the guilt dissipate, a constant confusing flick between wrong and right.

“Looks like I made a mess of you,” He observed, zipping his pants back up and buckling his belt. He grabbed a box of tissues from the desk and passed them to you. “I apologise.”

You stood up straight, the material of your dress falling against your knees as you took the box. Your eyes avoided his, grabbing a few napkins to clean yourself up before dropping them into the bin.

“It's okay,” You said, looking up as he threaded his fingers through his hair, making himself look presentable again.

“Thank you for, um- Thank you for showing me how to confront those thoughts,” You stammered, fingers gently massaging the light bruises left on your wrists from the rosary he'd bound you with.

Geto took your wrists in his hands, thumbs tracing over the marks with a soft smile. “Of course,” He said, bringing them up to his lips to place a small kiss on each one. Your heart swelled at the small gesture, and you found yourself smiling back up at him despite the conflicting feelings in your mind.

“Well,” Geto turned, walking over to the door and unlocking it. He grabbed his cassock from the hook, slipping it back on and buttoning it up before turning to you. “If you ever feel like…exploring your desires again, you know where you find me.”

You swallowed, nodding your head. “Oh, yes.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, following behind him and placing your hand on the handle. “I'll see you again soon, Father Geto.”

You looked up at him and he stared back, his reflection tainting the innocence you once held in your eyes. He smiled, watching the way your body reacted to his touch as he placed a hand on the small of your back.

“Of course.”

You opened the door, mind too busy to realise that you were completely bare under your dress as you walked away. The familiar feeling of his eyes boring into you sent a shiver through your body, and you used every ounce of your remaining self control to keep looking forward.

“I'll pray for you.” His voice called out, your heart sinking to your stomach.

Yeah, you were well and truly fucked.

[marvelita85]

Vermithor was flying all around the red keep all morning it seems as he felt Visenya's pain even if it was a good one many would say she in that state wanted to rip the maesters head off

- Im in labor imbecile im brining a child to this damn world... you wont tell me how to behave for your conviniance.....- another contraction and she double in pain grabing one of her bed post, another comment from Orklide and she was fed up - thats it get him out of here.... i dont... want any male around me until this child screams out of me..... OUT!!! - Queen Rhaenyra was informed of her daughter's labors and she left her hand to handle the rest of her day Lord Corlys accepted and took Lucerys with him to start learning about how to rule as he would be Drifmark heir

- my sister... is she going to be alright grandfather?

- Visenya is as strong as your mother and the queen brought 4 children into this world, she will be just fine

Rhaenyra arrived to Visenya's chambers, saw Aemond standing looking very nervous but trying not to show it, she smile touching her brother's shoulder and he looked at her....Rhaenyra only smile dissapearing inside the room

- how could you do this 4 times....- Visenya said looking at her mother....

- princess you have to breath....- Visenya tried to followed their commands and she grab her mothers hands - now push - Visenya was kniling and grabbing both of Rhaenyra's hands, the queen maids help brining the baby out and as the first cries fill the room

- its a boy princess

- healthy? - the queen asked...

- very much your grace - Visenya had her boy in her arms and all the pain dissapeared.... the looks were much like Visenya and Aemond, holding Targaryen trades silvery hair and the blues eyes when he opened his eyes

- hello you... Im your mom - after the afterbirth came out Visenya was cleaned and Aemond could entered his rooms to finally meet his child

- how are they...

- mother and child are very healthy brother...

- thank you... your grace - it wasnt easy for Aemond to aknowledge Rhaenyra as the queen but after Aegon succesfully fleed to Dragonstone and bend the knee to her there wasnt much to do about the legitimisation of the true air... after that Rhaenyra assended the throne, forgave her siblings and as time proceded Aemond and Visenya got married as it was Viserys wish to unified the family and now they were wecoming their child, the future heir to the throne....

- hello.... you are going to meet your father....

- are you alright?

- yes... it was painfull but is all forgoten having him here....

- you have the heir in your hands Visenya....

- you help in the making Aemond... you will have a very hard job now.... teaching him how to be king - Visenya always tried to resured Aemond even when he didnt have a dragonand now they were an unity and have a son she kept inspiring him to be better she even talked to Rhaenyra for Aemond to be included in the small council, as Rhaenyra didnt have any use for blavkfire it was given to Aemond as dark Sister was Daemon's

- he needs a name...

- what do you think about Baelor.... it was your and my fathers father.... deem apropiate for the future king...- Aemond kiss her temple carresing Baelor's head

- is perfect.... - Visenya close her eyes exausted and Aemond grab the baby in his arms letting her rest...

- my prince...the queen mother wished for the baby to be brought to her...Aemond realised it wasnt the first time his mother has done that

- if my mother wants to see my son she can come here... she is no queen anymore.... she will make herself remind of that before she dares to make my wife exaused for her sake

- she did that to my mother you know.... i was the only one that was spare because of my looks all my brothers had to be brough to her

- she cant do that anymore.... your mother forgave her and she still thinks entirled to order us...

- she did it for you and your siblings, if it depended of me she would have the same end your grandfather Lord Strong and the traitors of the small council

- and I thanked you didnt insist on it... but she needs to learn her place

Alicent didnt like it one bit but she was alone all her children were away from her and now Aemond was a father and his son would be the heir of the throne Rhaenyra's reing was asured that afther another queen there would be a king and the Lord of Westeros were alright with it

Baelor recived a dragon egg from his uncles Jace and Luke and many other gifts from Visenya's other siblins, Aegon II joked about taking him to know the brothels around kingslanding and won Aemond's look it was enough to bring fear

Helaena lived in another reality but her words for Baelor were of prospery and loved her wish was Jahaera would be married to him and Visenya was not oposed to that idea but as Baela and Jace were to have a baby probably the queen would want her to be queen along with her son

Aemond went to fly with Vaghar to reasured Vermithor hia rider was alright and resting,Vermithor seem to understand and flu with Vaghar for a time before he dissapeared into the horizon of dragonatone... he didnt like the pit to stay and nor him or Visenya could blame him for that

[angelic-daiquiri]

!!NEWS FLASH!! They hate you cuz they ain't you (a hot girl rant about haters)

this is just a rant about what I've learnt overtime from bullies and bitches

It's story time people (tw, skip to after the picture if you're uncomfortable)

Nothing in my life is consistent except getting hated on. It's not even sad it's just funny as fuck tbh and I've gotten used to it. I was bullied cuz they found me annoying, WHEN I DIDNT EVEN TALK TO THEM. It took me many years to stop giving a fuck about them.

The only year where people didn't hate me was in 10th when the rumors were forgotten (that's a story for another day), I never knew why nobody wanted to talk to me or why they hated me, I assumed it was because I'm annoying (and that turned into a HUGE insecurity) but I couldn't have been annoying because I rarely talked to them, and I have people who've been with me for over a decade and they've never found me annoying. So I decided to switch schools, and now here I am with a group of girls talking shit about me right in front of me (istg and they're like "nO aNa wE aRe NoT tAlKinG aBoUt yOu" like bro do you think I'm blind?)

"So why do they do that ana?"

For that you gotta understand why do people hate others?

Well if you search it up you'll most likely see jealousy as the main cause and also

Projecting-

you've always heard people say "Oh they're just projecting insecurities on you" right? But even tho is reason is a very rational one I had never understood it...that is until recently I saw it in front of my eyes. This girl in my class (let's call her tiana) tiana is a very very insecure girl, she's a little cubby and curvy and she hated that about her, She was forced to sit beside me and we talked so she opened up about why she was this insecure, I could understand it, she truly was a nice and beautiful girl, and I tried to comfort her where she looked at me and goes "easy for you to say". Then I realised she was jealous Now before any of this happened she used to talk shit about me telling people I took like the skull emoji and that I'm a whore because I keep trying too much (to look pretty) she used to get angry whenever I left my hair down and for no fucking reason. When she opened up, everything fell into place. She was insecure about her body so she started skinny shaming me and hated on my looks. I've always tried to help her out, because I love helping people but I don't think she's gonna change anytime soon. So this proves the first reason why people hate on others THEY'RE JUST JEALOUS OF YOU BABE, CUZ YOU'RE LITERALLY THAT GIRL (or guy or them or enby yk what I mean)

What I've understood from getting bullied and hated on

People are dogshit, even if you go to someone to vent or tell them someone hates you there is a rare chance they'll ask you what you had done to them. (Which always happened to me). This is just like victim blaming, and this fucks up people's pov of themselves. There will always be people talking shit about you, because no-one listens to them when they talk about themselves (I saw this on Pinterest lmao) You are the creator of your goddamn reality, you can't let other people's negativity fuck you up. You're literally a gem, you'll not even think about them when you're living your dream life. So why let them ruin your thoughts now.

your thoughts create reality, so do you want to live in a reality filled with negativity or are you too tired to give a fuck? So stop giving fucks

Stop letting them into your mind, it's your mind and they have no right to control your thoughts and you can't control their opinions on you. You do not have to prove anything to anyone except yourself babe.

I get it, it's so annoying to hear people say "stop caring" when it's so hard to do, but you can't become a puppet for them and let their words ruin what you are. listen to me DO YOU WANNA BE A PUPPET? DO YOU WANNA BE A LITTLE DOG ON THEIR LEASH?. No right?, so it's about time you realise you can't control their hatred, you should just keep being yourself because YOU know what YOU truly are.

If you're still not convinced please go on YouTube and search up "tam kaur", "simonesquared" and "thewizardliz"

Remember, it's your life. You are god

dni if: homophobic, transphobic, racist, if you don't care about the people dying in Palestine, congo, etc, anyone whos so religious its toxic or people who hate on religions, I don't like men thank you (just the creepy ones please stay away, I have a taser 🥰), anti shifters, pick me's, dark humor people, yk

[safetycar-restart]

LESTAPPEN!DS AU (Tumblr deleted the ask but I am nothing if not persistent)

Ok I swear an ask just disappeared from my askbox because it was there before I went to make tea and now it is nowhere to be found but I really wanted to discuss it so I'm gonna answer it here anyway so anon who sent that ask, this is for you!

So it was about a poly!lestappen idea that I had for the D/S AU where you're a professional dom in Monaco and you dom both Max and Charles professionally. Except they both want more than that, so badly they want more than that. They don't know you dom the other until they run into each other outside of your offices and they're shocked but end up bonding over both wanting more with you and then eventually realise they actually want each other too, they want to both be your subs and have you be their dom, properly not just professionally.

The ask basically just asked for more info about this AU, how I think it would happen, where it would go after they realise they both have the same pro dom, etc.

Firstly, I think they'd go through a very brief phase of being jealous of each other. Neither of them are happy to actually meet one of your other subs. Knowing you're a professional dom with other subs is one thing, but actually seeing one of your other subs is another story.

So for a while they avoid each other like the plague, until there's a triple header where neither of them have been able to go back to Monaco and they both miss you so much. Charles goes to max, because he thinks max is the only one who would understand that he doesn't just need to submit to some random dom he needs you.

And Max does understand. They sit with each other that whole night, talking about how much they miss you and how much they hate the fact that you're a professional dom and not their own doms, that you'll never collar them.

They become a lot closer after that, but they take a while to tell you that they know about each other. They're both scared that they've broken some unnamed confidentiality rule, that you'd stop domming them if you knew they talked about you to each other.

It's the idea of bringing you to a race weekend that prompts them to finally tell you. It was Max's idea, after the third triple header where they both spend the last weekend curled up together (exactly how you would cuddle them), and max asks what would happen if they invited you to the second weekend in a triple header. Charles perks up immediately, because there's no denying how good that would be.

It's Charles who tells you they know each other in the end, not on purpose but because he's so fucked out and floating deep in subspace that he can't control what he babbles about. You've got him cuddled against your chest, and he's happily babbling away about how happy he is and how good you make him feel and then he just goes 'wanna cuddle you 'n maxy, maxy is so warm'.

You freeze, at first you don't realise who he's talking about but then you realise it's your max. Of course you knew that he knew Max, but considering the amount of NDAs you had to sign to scene with either of them, you assumed they'd never tell each other who they scened with. But apparently not, and apparently they cuddled together.

Charles doesn't even realise what he's done, and you don't bring it up then because it would probably send him right into a drop.

But later, after he's already left, you can't stop thinking about what he said.

You imagine then together, two of your subs cuddled up all warm and safe. You can't deny that they're both your favourite subs. You know you shouldn't have favourites, that you're just providing a service. But they are both such sweet good boys, and you wish they could be yours so badly.

Maybe Max convinced you to go out to coffee with him and Charles after you didnt react badly to finding out they know of each other and have clearly been talking about you.

You know you shouldn't have agreed to it, it certainly breaks every professional boundary in the book. But honestly... you want to spend more time with them.

Despite them trying to arrange more and more time with you and getting you to come to races, it takes them much longer to realise they actually want each other too. They manage to convince themselves that the only reason they enjoy cuddling and spending time together is because they miss you and know what you're like.

Which just... adorable really.

[realcatalina]

King and his mother?!

In Christ's College Chapel, Cambridge is 16th century stained glass window, a rare example which survived nearly intact. It is thought to be done in 1505. On left is Henry VII. And the woman on right is Margaret Beaufort. In the most unexpected outfit.

Read further for more.

In middle is St. Edward the Confessor,

on left King Henry VII wearing his armour and crown, already grey-haired.

i just love the silvery part of his armour and also these portculises.

Green behind him probably has to do with tudor colours-green and white.

But it is the female figure on right which caught my attention. It is said to be lady Margaret Beaufort, who was very involved with Christ's College in 1505. Hence it is very logical to asume it is her.

However if you play with image a little bit to see the woman's outfit a bit better...you will realise woman is dressed extremely sumptuarily.

The cloak is held in place by white rope ended by tasle-standard design for female cloak of the time. But this vivid blue colour could be one of blues made using snails as dye...very expensive, on par with purple. The pillow beneath her feet is in same colour, cloth before hr crimson-also very expensive.

So what is the golden part? Her gown+wide sleeves of that gown.

Her headwear seems to be plain black, but otherwise it is pure sumptuousness...not at all what we would expect lady Margaret to wear.

Thus i questioned whetever or not it might be Elizabeth of York instead, however i doubt it because of the shape of coronet. It doesnt match Henry's crown and we have depictions of CoA in crown matching her husbands. Plus these wide sleeves are more consistent with 1510s, they wouldnt become part of English fashion until at least mid 1500s, after Elizabeth died. (As far as i know.)

But then Margaret and the college were in 1505, so it makes sense.

Yet I always imagined that her simple outfit we know from portraits had something to do with her swearung celibacy in 1499.

Can somebody please check records of her wardrobe? Because this is way after and she is depicted truly lavishly. But you know-she got her son on throne after years of struggles and worries. Which one of us wouldn't then want to enjoy her golden years?

You know we had similiar thing with Margaret of Austria. She had so many portraits of herself in simple outfit, looking like true mourning widow and didnt want to remarry after two dead husbands. So people mistakenly think that is all she wore all the time, even though it was not so.

Unfortunately the image is also bit dirty and scratched or worn of in places. I imagine that originally it looked more like this:

I know that at the very top we have lines consisting with white chemise, then black line which could be black kirtle, then line of large pearls(maybe ment to sit on edge of black kirtle) then golden line is probably edge of golden gown...but right under it imo is edge of ermine surcoat.

Which obviously would not be showing over lower parts of golden gown.But normally there is no band running across in middle of the chest-imo that is damage.

Then obviously her blue cloak is held in place by pieces of white rope(typical of the time)-ending in tassel.

That is how i interpret it and this is the best version i could come up with:

One more thing. I do not know which one of these is correct:

With or without u-band.

U-band on forehead occurs in gable hoods of 15th century. After 1505, the vast major women would long since have abandoned it. Like a decade prior.

Yet she was over 60, so i cannot rule out that granny who nobody would have dared to criticized-because she was mother of the king- would have gone around in something way out of fashion.

But then...she has no visible paste and that is consistent with 15th century too. Yet the gown is strongly against it.

So this is bit of contradiction, based upon just this small detail.

But who knows, maybe it is simply dirty in the most unfortunate of the spots and conicidently looks more like u-band, while it might be bit of hair showing.

I hope you have enjoyed this and tell me what you think.

[shadyfestivalperfection]

💝PROMISES WE DIDNT EXPECT💝

Click here to view the master list

Chapter 10: Sebastian Stan

I led Y/n to the guest room, the one I had set aside for her, with a sense of purpose.

As I opened the door, I glanced back at her, a quiet formality in my tone when I spoke.

“And this will be your room.”

She looked around, taking in the simple, yet comfortable decor. A soft smile touched her lips as she responded, her voice warm despite the awkwardness of the situation. “Thanks, Sebastian.”

There was a moment of silence between us, neither of us entirely sure what to say next.

Finally, I broke it. “After you’re done settling in, I’ll have my maid serve our dinner.”

With that, I turned on my heel and left her to unpack, heading downstairs to the living room. I needed some time to prepare myself for the evening ahead, to clear my mind. It wasn’t every day that a marriage of convenience required such calculated arrangements. But, as much as I wanted to dismiss the uncomfortable feeling of this arrangement, I knew my duty.

Dinner was soon ready, and I stood by the table, waiting for Y/n to join me. I’d made it clear, after all, that we would be dining together. A chance to talk, to discuss what was expected. When she entered, I motioned for her to sit opposite me. We ate in silence at first, each of us navigating the strange tension that hung between us. She was still so new to all of this — new to me, new to my world.

Finally, I broke the silence. “Tomorrow,” I began, setting my fork down with a deliberate motion. “We’ll go to my parents’ house. I’ll introduce you to them.” I looked her directly in the eye, trying to gauge her reaction.

Her brow furrowed slightly. She was nervous, and I couldn’t blame her. This wasn’t a situation that could easily be understood. “What should I expect?” she asked, her voice quiet, laced with uncertainty. “Are they… strict? Will they hate me? Will they just… throw me away?”

I leaned back in my chair, considering her question. “Yes,” I answered simply. “They are strict, and it’s possible they may not approve of you.” I could see her tense at my words, her hands instinctively curling into the fabric of her dress. I softened my tone, trying to ease her worries. “But I won’t let that happen. You’re my responsibility. This marriage contract may be temporary, but until it ends, you’ll be under my protection.”

Her eyes met mine, searching for some sign of truth in my words. It was clear she was trying to process everything, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar world I had thrust her into. “And if they do try to throw me out?” she asked, a faint tremor in her voice.

“They won’t,” I said firmly. “If it comes to that, I’ll handle it. You don’t need to worry about them. Not right now.”

For a moment, we both sat in silence, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air between us. I could see her nod slowly, as if accepting my words, though I knew that underneath, there were doubts. And I understood.

We finished our meal in a quiet, shared understanding. She seemed to relax, though I knew she was still apprehensive. The night stretched on, filled with the subtle tension of two people bound by a contract, not by choice, but by necessity.

I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take for her to truly understand her place in this arrangement. How long it would take before she realised that, despite the coldness of the situation, I would keep my word. I would protect her, even if it meant confronting my parents. Even if it meant standing against everything they expected from me.

For now, though, I was content to let the silence settle. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges. And I had to be ready for them, for both of us.

_____

The hum of the engine filled the silence as I drove, occasionally stealing glances at Y/n through the corner of my eye. She was staring out the window, her profile soft in the fading daylight, her expression unreadable. I felt the weight of the moment hanging between us, the uncertainty that we both knew was there but didn’t want to acknowledge. I cleared my throat, attempting to break the tension.

“Are you nervous?” I asked, my voice coming out softer than I intended.

She didn’t immediately respond, her gaze still fixed on the blur of the world outside. After a few seconds, she turned her head toward me, her eyes locking onto mine with a hint of curiosity.

“Should I be?” Her voice was light, almost playful, but there was an edge to it.

“Well… I do think you should,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. There was no point pretending this was just a formality.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “That does not help, Sebastian,” she said, her tone now tinged with a bit of annoyance.

I chuckled, trying to ease the mood. “We should give each other nicknames,” I suggested, my gaze back on the road. “Like honey or sweetheart.”

She stared at me for a moment, incredulous. “Why?”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Only in front of my parents and my colleagues. Our marriage should feel real, or people might get suspicious. It’s not like we can fake this for long, right?”

Y/n sighed, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket as she glanced out the window again. “I feel like I’m going to regret this,” she muttered.

“Well, there’s no going back now,” I said, glancing at her as I pulled into the driveway. The house loomed in front of us, large and imposing, the familiar brick facade standing like a silent sentinel. I parked the car and reached for the door handle, but before I could open it, I felt a sudden tug on my arm. It was Y/n, pulling me back into the seat with surprising force.

I turned to face her, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Hey, Sebastian,” she said, her voice suddenly small, vulnerable. “Everything will work out, right?”

I swallowed, the sudden shift in her tone catching me off guard. I met her gaze, offering what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there every step of the way.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue. Slowly, she unbuckled her seatbelt, her eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer before she opened her door.

We got out of the car together, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change. My parents were already waiting for us on the front porch, my father standing at the top of the steps with his usual stoic expression. When he saw me, he offered a warm smile that felt more like an order than a greeting.

“Welcome, my son,” he said, his voice booming with a sense of command. His eyes then shifted to Y/n, and his smile softened, just a fraction. “And welcome to you too, Ms. Y/n.”

Y/n, to her credit, didn’t flinch. She nodded politely, her posture straight and dignified. “Thank you, sir. It’s a pleasure to be here,” she said, her voice steady.

My mother, who had been waiting behind my father, stepped forward with a soft smile.

“Come on now, let’s eat dinner,” she said warmly. “We’ll have a chat while we eat.”

I forced myself to smile, though the anxiety in my chest tightened. My mother’s tone was kind, but I could tell she was already sizing Y/n up. And my father… well, he was always measuring. The pressure was mounting, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing would go as smoothly as we had hoped.

As we walked inside, the house felt more suffocating than I remembered. The familiar sights—the portraits on the walls, the smell of my mother’s cooking wafting through the air—did little to comfort me. I couldn’t help but feel as if we were both walking into a carefully constructed trap, and all I could do was follow the script.

Y/n’s hand brushed mine for a moment, just a brief, almost accidental touch. I glanced at her, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She wasn’t hiding it well. I wasn’t sure whether it was for my sake or her own, but that tiny gesture sent a jolt through me.

There was no going back now.

We entered the dining room, and I sat down at the head of the table, the usual place I occupied when we had guests. My mother took her seat beside me, her smile wide as she gestured for Y/n to sit across from us. My father followed, settling into the chair at the opposite end of the table, his eyes scanning the room with the practiced intensity of a man who had spent a lifetime analysing.

And just like that, the weight of the situation hit me all over again. This wasn’t just dinner. It wasn’t just a family gathering. This was the beginning of something that neither of us had fully prepared for.

I glanced at Y/n once more. Her expression was a perfect mask, but I could see the subtle tension in her shoulders, the tightness around her jaw. It mirrored my own anxiety.

I knew then that nothing about this would be easy. But there was no turning back.

Dinner began, the usual small talk filling the room, but the atmosphere felt thick, suffocating. My parents were polite, asking questions, offering compliments, but there was an underlying tension I couldn’t ignore. My mother’s eyes flitted between us with a kind of curiosity I couldn’t quite place. And my father… my father was already calculating.

Y/n, to her credit, was playing along. She smiled, answered their questions. But I knew her well enough to see the strain beneath her composed exterior. And I had to wonder if, deep down, she was already regretting this as much as I was.

But it was too late. We were already here, and whatever happened next, we had no choice but to face it together.

-to be continued

[beedlemania]

In the episode when Davy’s grandfather comes to visit, Davy is referred to as a minor.  The guy who said this could have just been saying this because of Davy’s size and he looked young.  But imagine Davy being in America and living with the guys and also being required to go to high school because he’s under 18.

Poor Davy, I could see him getting picked on because of his height and maybe getting shoved into/against lockers.  At first, he’d act like he’s a really cool guy and likes school whenever the guys ask him but eventually, he would reach his breaking point.  He would slowly get less enthusiastic about school and stops talking about it to the guys.  Whenever Mike or one of the others asks how school was Davy will just say “fine” or say nothing exciting happened. 

One day he might even come home with bruises and a black eye and when asked, Davy just says he’s not good at sports and got hurt in gym. 

Then he might try to avoid school by saying he doesn’t feel well and even pulls a few tricks to make Mike believe he’s sick (like tamper with the thermometer so it reads higher than it really is or making himself get really hot so it feels like he has a temperature).  Mike knows Davy though and it doesn’t take long to catch on to his plan of faking sick.  At first Davy denies he’s faking but he eventually confesses to Mike and says he hates school and the other kids are mean to him and bully him and push him into lockers and make fun of him for his height and accent.  Of course, Mama Mike will not tolerate this and demands to know who all these kids are.  Davy says he doesn’t want to make things worse and begs Mike to not make him go to school.  Mike is angry but doesn’t want to make Davy more upset and instead just gives him cuddles and says they’ll figure something out.

They somehow work something out and Davy can do his work from home.

Yes!! They tried to get away with Davy not attending school since he technically didnt have the right paperwork to be in the country but through a series of events that probably involved Mr Babbitt and the rent, the cops showed up and enrolled poor Davy in high school. So not only was he picked on for his height and accent but he also joined the school halfway through the year and gets picked up in a bright red car with some weird ass guys some days.

Davy breezes by at first because he takes a lot of insults as good natured teasing/sarcasm. Until he makes a sarcastic remark back and gets beaten up and then he cops on to the fact he was getting made fun of the entire time. He sees the inside of a lot of lockers and toilet bowls after that but manages to keep it all from the guys for a good few months. When asked about his day he’ll either make stuff up or just give one worded answers because he has too much pride to admit he can’t hold his own against these guys.

Davy never ever has his homework done due to the Monkees get into so many shenanigans and general lack of interest, so the teachers start picking on him too. He had to take history since he had to take whatever classes were left and so he’s very lost because England and American history is different so he only knows the bare basics of american history. Because of this he’s failing history which he also refuses to admit to the guys.

On a similar note, Davy’s close to failing all his classes because he didnt realise American grades are continuous assessment and not an end of year exam so he put in no effort. He’s failing everything but wont tell anyone but is also panicking about having to do the year all over again. Hes so worked up emotionally and paired with the physical bullying he just breaks down completely one day. He walks though the door, Micky asks him how school was, and Davy just falls to his knees sobbing.

When the guys eventually get told about how much Davy’s struggling, Mike goes into the school himself and the staff have no idea what to do with the random 21 year old Texan guy that’s ranting and raving about some English kid. They dont know how to deal with him so they just accept what he has to say and they work something out for Davy.

Peters not the brightest in most situations but he was actually very clever in school and he’s a very patient teacher so Davy finally works up the courage to ask for help and Peter starts tutoring him. Davy just makes it by and graduates high school with the help of his friends :3

[romantic-homocide]

hey

i love you so much. i hate how i just left. i hope you can see things from my perspective and understand why, even if just a little. i was pretty traumatised, and i think what you did wasnt that bad (still was a bit wrong but i digress), but my brain really exacerbated everything. i was transported back to horrible times in my life, and it took a lot of reflection to realise that i wasnt viewing that situation from a healthy perspective. i remember waking up when it happened and thinking i was back in my childhood home and you were one of my brothers. i was terrified and so angry. i shut down emotionally and ran away, like i always do, and it led me to have this really skewed perspective on it all. i felt so much rage and fear, but mainly betrayal. i trusted you with my life you know? but this mindset just... i dont know how to explain it. i was so afraid, and that made me afraid of you at the time. i didnt separate you from them, and i am sorry i didnt realise that until it was too late. after reflecting, i knew i wasnt really afraid of you. my emotions swung like a pendulum; one minute i hated you for what happened (this is the ptsd talking), and other times i thought about how i was feeling. i think i was starting to like you - romantically. which i could not deal with because i jumped straight back into a relationship. i didnt want to lose you or have anything change between us, but things already had changed. we werent 'just friends' last december, we werent just friends when you got back from V, and we both know it. i dont know what would have happened if we explored that.. maybe things would be so different. i didnt even realise these feelings until you started seeing someone else. things were going back to normal, but something made me feel uneasy listening to your love life. i couldnt put my finger on why, but then when thinking about it i realised. i was jealous. i was jealous that you were looking at other people, doing things that i had done with you, letting other people in. after that realisation, i had to try and figure out why. it took me such a long time but i did. i realised i hadnt been so unattached to you, i had started to like you more than a friend, but obviously just blocked it out. i didnt know how to cope with that fact, you know it takes me a while to let go of those things, especially when i dont have the space to just feel things until it doesn’t hurt anymore. it was so hard to confront and understand that because quite frankly how could i? i am with a guy who has proposed to me multiple times, i cant think about ever liking you like that, especially when we are trying to fix our friendship. i am now trying to accept what it was, let go of what we could have been. something changed between us, and i didnt know how to deal with it, and i dont think you did either. i obviously didnt think it was love, but the signs were all pointing to it ending up in that direction. hell, it could have been love. i always loved you more than anything before, what was just a little more? but i tried to talk myself out of feeling anything for you other than friendship (how ridiculous is that?). id try to point out all your flaws, all the things that annoyed me, all the things you'd eat that were so disgusting, but it still wasnt enough. id still end up sleeping next to you, waking up with you, eating dinner with you, sitting on the couch having those small moments that were just for us. in another universe.

i think we could have worked through all of that though and just stayed best friends, if we knew how. however, we did start to make good progress. but i wanted you to be mine, even though i had no right to. i really hated the idea of you being with someone else, hated the idea of you loving someone else. like really really hated it. you were meant to be my best friend, the guy i still kind of thought id marry (marriage pact of course), and it felt like i was losing you to someone else. i felt like i was losing the biggest part of me and our future, just everything that seemed important to me, even though i knew it would not have turned out the way we both wanted in the end. i think it was just a comfort knowing that you were always there, and knowing you loved me (even if it was platonic). it felt like enough to last me a lifetime. i was so happy with this far-fetched idea of you and i, spending every day together, growing as people and growing old. i still want that, but obviously it will never happen.

your number is unblocked, and i really hope you reach out to me. i am not sure how you will know to reach out because you wont even see this so i dont know why i am talking like you will, but anyway. i would like to figure this all out, somehow. im sorry i gave up and ran away when i realised, i was just so afraid and didnt want to confront the fact we had changed. i will always, always love you. -k

[filmbyjy]

ONE NOTE

SYNOPSIS > When you turned 18, you heard your best friend’s favourite song. Turns out, it was just one of the various signs to finding your soulmate. However, you couldn’t bring this up to jake. Not when he was in a happy relationship with your other best friend! Would you choose heartbreak or sacrifice your happiness for the sake of keeping the friendship?

THIRTY-FIVE – morning smooches

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

WC: 1K words

a/n: THEY WHAT?? THEY SMOOCHED?? yes, because I like it. it's cute. we need to have more cute moments like this.

waking up next to jake wasn't a shocker but at the same time it surprised you how close he was. his breathing was steady, there were light snores coming from him. honestly, that was one of the best sleep you've ever had. was it jake's comforting aura?

the more you stared up right in his face, the more you realise the features he had. his plump lips...pretty nose, his eyelashes. just as you continued staring right at him, his eyes fluttered open.

you couldn't even react when you felt jake's lips right on yours for not even one second. there was even a loud smooch sound that resonated in the room. jake was surprised to even hear the sound.

"I-" he lets out in surprise. he sits up from the bed, his hair dishevelled. "I'm so sorry for kissing you."

the boy was just in shock. he knew he wasnt supposed to act out considering he was on a 'trial'. him kissing you was definitely what he should not have done. he curses in his head.

'sim jaeyun, why did you do that! now shes going to hate you!!' – jake says in his head as he has a mini dilemma.

he honestly looked like a sad puppy and that broke your heart. you had leaned in and left a small peck on his lips for a split second just like he did too.

"now we're even." you say as you had pulled the covers off you. you were quick to try to get out of bed as you didnt want to see how he reacted. you could feel your face beeming and turning hot from embarrassment.

jake just sat on the bed. he clearly wasn't expecting that. he wanted to move to do something but he couldn't because he was frozen. he watches as your figure disappears out the door. he slams his body right back on the bed and kicks the blankets in a fit of embarrassment. he can't believe he did that.

as for you, you had quickly went to the kitchen to prepare yourself some breakfast. you hit the counter a couple of times, your fist stinging a little. that was the first kiss that you and jake had and you weren't even dating yet.

“noona-” leehan pauses. he eyes you down suspiciously. “did something happen?” your eyes widened in response, like a deer that was caught with headlights.

“nothing happened! umm, well you see-”

leehan sighs, “nevermind. noona, don’t you have classes today?”

“afternoon classes.” he hums at your words.

“well, would you like to explain what happened in your bedroom with jake hyung?” your jaw drops.

“you saw what happened?!”

“no- did something happen?” the younger boy questions once again. his eyebrows raised in question. you gave him an awkward smile.

“no no nothing happened at all!” you point to eggs that were still not cracked. “would you like some eggs and toast?”

“no thanks, i just came by last night to grab something but it started raining heavily so i stayed until this morning.” he folds his arms. “but why were you and jake hyung sleeping in a bed together. what happened to just ‘helping to fix your bleeding toe’.”

“i had some meds to lessen the pain. erm, i guess it was drowsy? then jake climbed in bed i guess. not the first time he’s been in my bed considering we’ve had sleepovers since we were kids.”

he hums, “just a fair warning though you’re still supposed to play bad cop. you can’t just accept him like that after years of torture and heartbreak.”

“i know, donghyun.” you sighed. “just, you’ll understand my actions, right?”

“i’ll always believe whatever you do, noona. just don’t want you to hurt yourself again.” you went over to hug your little brother and he accepts it.

“thank you for worrying about me. you’re the best little brother any girl could have.”

“oh i know about that.” he smirks a little. “but i wouldn’t trade anybody else to be my big sister.” he rubs your back.

“are you going back?”

“mhm, taesan and i are going to buy breakfast since the both us had enough of ramyeon in the morning.”

you smacked his back, “come over for breakfast some time with taesan so you don’t have to eat ramyeon for breakfast.” he hums and untangles himself from you. just as leehan pulls away from you, jake walks in. leehan points to jake.

“hyung you better not try anything funny while staying here.” jake puts both of his hands up to surrender.

“believe me, i won’t.” leehan hums once again. you were about to see him out the door but he shakes his head and says that you don’t have to. the door shuts and it went silent in the dorm.

“umm, where is yvette and mae?” jake asks.

“they have morning classes. umm, as you know mae being in a interior designing course…yvette being in a culinary course.”

“ah, right.” it went silent. the only sounds were shuffling and scratching from marsh as she abuses the scratch pole. she mewls for your attention after she’s done and so you picked her up.

“umm, let me go feed marsh. do you want breakfast before you get to class?”

“i don’t have classes today.” jake explains.

“oh. umm, do you still want breakfast?”

“yeah, that would be great.”

you quickly poured some cat food for marsh and she jumps out of your arms to eat her wet food. jake goes to pet her head as she eats, she purrs for a bit. you had started making some light breakfast for you and jake. you had placed the plate in front of jake and started digging into your own food. your phone vibrates, a couple of notifications coming from the roommate groupchat.

“well, guess we’ll be the only ones home for tonight.” jake says.

“yeah…”

jake gulps, “i’ll be bathing and going to the gym!” he stands up suddenly and dumps his plate into the sink. after that, he quickly bolts it to the bathroom like a madman. this was not the first time you’ve seen jake like this. he acted like this when he had a crush on aria so what did it mean that he acted this with you?

no, you couldn’t. resist the thought and make jake suffer a little more. you shook your head and looked back down on your toast. you took a bite from it and sighed.

this is going to be a very hard thing to do…

taglist[closed]: @sumzysworld @mitmit01 @moon3verland @baribaaari @byty2k @alex-is-sleeping @viagumi @txtlyn @belovedsthings @woninluv @dreamiestay @niniissus @kyutiepeachy @yoongisbaguetteshoes @squiishymeow @jjaammm @enhaz1 @illvding @woniejjang @bee-the-loser @laurradoesloveu @ckline35 @ningx2stan @hoonlvly @clampclover @xyzyx01 @victoriasimm @eneiyri @nshmrarki @woorcve @bubblytaetae @i03jae @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @l1wv00n @onlyhyunjin @kyanmeai @isa942572 @lisaswifey @alisonyus @firstclassjaylee @szkstay @enhamysunshines @milanco @hsbae @zyvlxqht @lixiebokie @wth121 @enahasblog @gongiz @anuisamazing @heestrawberries @gyehyeonist @heelovesmeknot @silquids

(bolded can’t be tagged)

[notesfortherapy]

Trying to figure out this whole forgiveness thing is interesting.

The first thing I went to is that its hard because I dont know the reason she's been such a dick to me. Ive tried to concoct all sorts of reasons and they all just make me angrier than the next because to me they seem stupid.

So as I sat in my car on my commute I thought about how maybe the things my friends told me about why she never got back in touch (she's busy, we're all having a tough time right now) might have been the truth. The first response was anger and scoffing, because that cant possibly be true.

In the midst of a pandemic and working and caring for sick parents I was running regular hangouts for them, checking in with them, organising a social life for them until they all started to go back out into the world, bailing on me when I still had to isolate, and then one of them threw a tantrum that I hadnt rescheduled when they thought I would (because they made in person plans at the last minute) and I washed my hands of it. And still I stayed friends and supported them all, I just stopped running hangouts.

So how could my friend simply not talk to me, not have a conversation to set things straight with me because of being busy and having a bad time when I could do all of that? That's ridiculous. That would mean...

The thought that came into my head was "theyre not as strong as I am". And it made me cry. It sounds like a boast, but every time I think about how my core trait has shifted from loyalty to strength this past 5 years I cry. I dont see my strength as a virtue, I see it as a scar. Its a thing Ive had to be through caring and chronic pain and emotional abuse, while being completely unsupported by the friendships I thought would last me a life time.

A friend (separate from this group) who's recently had to care for a parent for a short period apologiesed to me recently that she wasnt in touch more during that period of my life and I told her I never expected it of her. It was easy to forgive because Id never been angered by her lack of understanding.

And yet I couldnt even consider the same for the friend who cut me out of her life after I called her out in shitty behaviour. Maybe because i felt like we were closer...so expected more. Or maybe because I just expected...idk, a conversation? Words to come out of her mouth to explain what Id done that had been so bad. Somehow though...realising that expectation was wrong, broke it. And I cried.

I need friends in my life who will talk to me and have a conversation when there's a problem. I thought that was an obvious thing, I thought that was a reasonable expectation. What should have been a voiced boundary, turned into an emotional lashing out. When she refused to talk to me after 6 months, I removed her from my social media. I think I hoped at that point she'd reach out, but she didnt. And I never really accepted that as her choice because in my head it was the wrong one. It was the stupid choice.

Now I see that I dont know her reasons for making that choice. And they could be complicated or they could be as simple as leaving it until it felt like she couldnt talk to me. Either way its incredibly sad that she never reached back out to me. That its felt for 3 years like she was making the wrong choice over and over. But I had a part to play in that choice too.

And now I see it should be a boundary. Something that I make clear to people. If you cannot communicate appropriately, then I will leave. I did the right thing in a way. I tried to protect myself. But because it had no rules to it, was just a reaction, I left the door open in the process. I hurt myself.

Im still angry and I dont want to be, but, I can forgive her for things that were not her fault. And I can forgive myself for not knowing any better at the time.

[dannyriccsupremacy]

say don't go | CL16

| charles leclerc x fem!exgf!reader smau

| summary : charles doesn't do enough to keep his girlfriend and when the internet finds out, they are less than happy.

| face claim : christina nadin

| part two here ! part three here !

liked by pierregasly, bellahadid + 87,086 others

youruser the last slide pretty much sums up everything rn

view all 12,436 comments

francisca.cgomes you're too pretty to cry stop it

↳ youruser pls be my gf 🫶

↳ francisca.cgomes in a heartbeat babe 😉

↳ pierregasly ???

user omg theyve def broken up

user bestie is this a clue??

lilymhe miss u

↳ youruser miss u more 💔

↳ carmenmundt girls trip incoming promise ❤️

user thats it im done with love if they didnt last who will

↳ user you dont even know that theyre broken up??

↳ user its pretty obvious, isnt it?

↳ user dont assume anything until they comfirm it

yourbff ******* doesn't deserve ur tears

↳ user bff out here exposing her 😭

yn sat at her kitchen island, silently staring at her empty house. it was new, fresh, clean. it was not full of life and love and laughter like the one she was used to. no. charles sat in that one, reminiscing over all the memories created there. she didn't know what to do anymore, it was a new house, new people, new routines. no fitting morning routines together like a glove because they both knew exactly what the other was doing.

no more them.

yn shook her head. she wouldn't allow herself to be this sad, this beat up over a man. she was better than that.

after all, she was the one who left.

scrolling through twitter at two am on a saturday morning didn't help her mind. sure most of the tweets were about how the whole world missed them two- which was quite unexpected-, but some of them just shit on her. she knew she needed to get off social media, but she also needed to see what everyone was saying about her.

curled up in bed, yn pulled her blanket higher up on her. she dropped her phone next to her and brought her hands up to her head. she had to stop. she had to get out of monaco, go the furthest away she possibly could. escape to australia, the complete other side of the globe. surely danny and heidi would take her in?

just as she was about to stand up, her phone started buzzing. she scrambled to reach it, wondering who was possibly calling her at this hour.

she finally found her phone just to drop it again when she saw the contact name.

charlie.

they hadn't talked in months, and suddenly he was calling her out of the blue at two in the morning?

thoughts ran through her mind at a hundred miles an hour, playing out every scenario of why he was possibly calling. she eventually decided that it was probably a drunk call to the ex, and there would be no harm in answering because he wouldn't remember it in the morning.

she clicked the answer button, holding her phone up to her ear, but not daring to speak.

"hello?" his voice was so familiar, it felt like home. she could imagine his face, his scent, his laugh. if she closed her eyes it was almost as if he was sitting in front of her, "yn are you there?"

she hummed, not wanting to voice anything and realise it is a dream.

"i'm not drunk. just to let you know." fuck. "i know how a two am phone call seems. i honestly didn't even think you'd answer the phone so i'm a bit unprepared."

she stayed silent, not knowing what to say. she sat there, half perched on her bed, replaying the ending of their relationship and willing herself not to go back to him. she couldn't. she had to stay strong.

"i thought you would be out clubbing or something, i don't know." charles rambled on, his voice so soothing, and if she wasn't currently in such an awkward position, she probably could of fallen asleep to it. "i know you probably hate me, and don't want anything to do with me, but i've been seeing that you're going out a lot recently, getting drunk and stuff."

"no." she cut him off, "you do not get to judge me for how i am coping with our relationship ending. it's your fault we're done."

"what?" charles exclaimed, "you're the one who ended it, you're the one who left."

"all you had to do was say 'don't go'." yn said softly.

"you can't seriously be blaming us ending on me?" charles was livid now, even though deep down he knew he could've stopped the break up.

"you can't seriously be blaming it on me." yn responded, a lot calmer than her counterpart.

"wow. i was calling to see if you wanted to get dinner with me, to see if you wanted to work things out between us, but not anymore." charles scoffed.

"whatever. in what world would i have even accepted that offer." they both knew that she would in this one.

"fine. goodbye, yn." charles waited to hear her voice once more before hanging up.

"goodbye, charlie. thanks for twisting the knife." and with that she hung up the phone, collapsing backwards onto her bed. she was going to need a strong drink now.

APODCAST POSTED A NEW VIDEO :

liked by youruser, yourbff + 17,926 others

sacreskin introducing my new skincare brand to you all! i'm so excited to share this with the world because i'm so in love with it and i hope you all are too!

view all 1,876 comments

yourbff i'm so proud of u!!!

user literally buying rn

francisca.cgomes i expect a pr package

↳ youruser hand delievered

user she wouldn't be able to do this if she was never with charles she just leached fame and money off him

↳ sacreskin honey she doesnt need a man

↳ user admin what are you doing here?

user guys she doesn't need a reminder that she dated charles in the comments of her creating a new skincare line, it has nothing to do with him!

→ liked by youruser, yourbff

youruser just posted a story!

authors note idk if i want to do a part 2, but if enough people ask for it i will make one! hope you all enjoyed!

[psychiatricwarfare]

this post was inspired by a real person btw. so before anyone tries that whole "nazis cant change, theyre pure evil incarnate" spiel, you're wrong. every single person on earth is capable of change, for better or worse, it doesn't matter. there is no fundamental difference between you and a nazi other than the circumstances you were born into that made you go one path and them another. you are not better than someone who was not given the same opportunities as you, the same resources, the same information, the same life.

you can hate nazis all you want, in fact i encourage it, but that doesn't take away their personhood and if one day they realise they dont want to be that way anymore, that person is no longer your enemy. anyone trying to leave the alt-right is a very powerful potential ally and shaming them for their past is a great way to push them back into the alt-right community and, personally, i think we could use more allies than enemies

the last tattoo i got was done by a guy at a local tattoo parlour. i went in and joked to my friend that it might feel weird getting a tattoo on my chest since the nerves are more sensitive post top surgery. the artist didnt know what that meant so he started asking questions and i answered them as best and as succinctly as i could. he thanked me and explained that he had been in prison for 10 years and only recently got out so he had never heard terms like that before and that he'd accidentally insulted a nonbinary person recently and wanted to make sure he didn't do that again.

since i was so polite and patient with him, he opened up to me that he used to be a nazi. an actual full-blown nazi. he was in a nazi gang with other nazis who would go out and commit hate crimes together (which landed him in prison). at first, hearing someone about to put a needle to my skin say they used to be a nazi right after telling him im trans made me apprehensive. but truthfully, he was one of the most respectful people i have come across, better than many, many cis left-wingers and democrats and even some trans people

he opened up to me about how abusive those communities are, the constant hypervigilance to never be seen as weak, constantly seeking out reasons to hate - and i mean truly hate someone you dont even know, competing with those you're supposedly "friends" with on who's the best/strongest/etc, who's better than who. the same "friends" who will leave you behind when push comes to shove. he told me how he believed it was a dog eat dog world and that he had to strive to be the strongest and the best and anyone who fell below that was someone new he had to hate.

he told me how exhausting it was, how lonely and isolating. he told me that thinking that way never made him happy, he lived his life scared and angry. he told me he never even wanted to be a nazi, he didn't mean for it to happen. he told me about how he had made some new friends when he was young and didn't even realise what he had gotten himself into until he had already been brainwashed.

he told me that he didn't want to live like that anymore, that he didn't want to hate anyone anymore. he wanted to grow, he wanted to learn. he wanted to be a better person. that tattoo artist is someone i will never forget because his genuine appreciation for my patience and willingness to explain it to him was something i couldn't describe in words if i wanted to. the guilt on his face when he told me that he had accidentally insulted a nonbinary person showed me he was telling the truth, he felt terrible that he had made that person feel that way due to his own ignorance and he never wanted to do that again, even on accident.

when i left my appointment that day i told him i would be right back, i just needed an atm so i could give him his tip. he told me to please not do that because of the fact that i didn't turn him away after learning about his past and instead sat there with him for the hour it took to tattoo me to explain things to him that he didn't know about was worth more to him than any monetary tip. he was so happy that i, a marginalised person, gave him a chance, entrusted him with my body and my safety, and educated him patiently so he could become a better person despite knowing about his past.

the point im trying to make here is that if someone comes to you saying they used to be a bigot but they're really trying to be better and dont even know how to start, you can help them by simply being kind and guiding them in the right direction. you dont have to hold their hand and teach them like i did, thats just how i like to do things. but you can absolutely offer them kindness and let them know that they are worth more than the worst things they've done and what matters now is learning from those mistakes so they can be better people

i truly believe he is a much better leftist than the majority of so-called leftists i see online, even if he may not call himself that. i think he accepts people much easier than those of us who never fell down that pipeline because he understands that there's no difference between hating someone for being trans vs hating someone for being nonbinary vs hating someone for being genderfluid vs hating someone for being a boydyke (using gender identity discourse as an example here but you can subsitute it for p much anything) because at the end of the day, you're still finding reasons to hate someone you don't even know. so yea, he may not understand it - something he admitted as we talked - but he doesn't just blindly hate anyone he doesn't understand anymore, he just accepts that they're different from him and that's okay, he learned that he doesn't need to understand someone to see them as the same as himself - a person.

something that really worries me about left-leaning people is the immediate villifying dehumanization of people who have ever done anything wrong ever. the puritanism of leftism. saying you hate nazis is great and all until someone who is a nazi tries to get out of it and grow and learn, how will you treat them? will you hold out your hand to them? will you help them take the steps they need to build a new support system and help them get out of the abusive space they've found themselves in? or will you turn your back on them because they "should have known better"? or because they dared to fall victim to the propaganda that's been shoved down their throats since they were born?

im not saying it's our job as marginalized people to rehabilitate ex-nazis or educate people, just to show compassion for people who did fall down the alt-right pipeline and are actively trying to get out of it or have successfully done so. it could've happened to anyone, even you. yes, even YOU, the person reading this. if we want people to feel safe enough to leave nazism or alt-rightism or whatever, then we have to be a welcoming place for people to admit they'd made mistakes and they were wrong. we need to remind them that they, too, are victims of the system who were being used as pawns against people they were brainwashed to believe were their enemies

[hella1975]

sort of going on a bar crawl tonight which is so funny if you remember that my last bar crawl ended with me almost dying in the city centre and a random man sleeping on my sofa <3