#like i have had disappointment and unsatisfying feelings before

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Losing my Mind over Veilguard 4/??

I think what's killing me the most is this "have your cake and eat it, too" mentality EA-as-Bioware has ushered in with this game.

To try and perfectly walk the line of giving old fans what they wanted/deserved and new fans something to just jump into was a tall fucking order given that they fired so many writers, and I personally feel like they fell way short.

Part of that, I think, comes from the fact that while it's certainly helpful to play Origins and then DA2 before you reach Inquisition (I'm speaking as someone who played the games backwards), I don't think Inquisition left off as a complete story the way the first two did. We had a world on the brink and pieces on the board that had so much personal stake in staying on it until Solas was handled. We had, whether the head devs wants to accept their failures regarding it or not, an entire Keep of previous choices that could have and should have informed the world going forward. I'm not saying it was sustainable to keep raising the stakes on those choices. I am saying, however, that with the time it took to get this game to us, more than three sanitized choices deserved to matter before Bioware closed the chapter on its strongest line of storytelling and moved on to RPG Lite. To give that up, to choose a new and uncertain fan base over an already dedicated one, is disappointing.

And to that end, even if we weren't going to get the Inquisitor again (which, at this point, I'm kind of thinking we should have, even if just for parts of it), I had near-constant exhaustion finding a shred of story that connected us to the previous games and then realizing it had been done in an unsatisfying way (hi, Dorian/Isabella/MORRIGAN).

I wouldn't have cared if this had been its own standalone game. There were parts of it I enjoyed, and I'm sure I'll be here shouting about those things too, soon enough. But the fact is that for every thing I appreciate about the game there are about ten more that make me mourn the nine years I spent eager to see what was coming next.

TLDR: You cannot show me a watered-down game that stands on the shoulders of stronger writing, plot, narrative, characters, etc. and the built world and depth of three previous games and multiple supplementary written works, and then expect me to be wholly accepting of the result. Veilguard gutted the rich body of work that came before it, threw enough bone shrapnel into the mix to keep people desperate to see a conclusion to events that had been building up for in-game years hanging on, and then discarded the rest with a casual sort of "deal with it, we're making way for the new" attitude.

Welcome to the new, I guess.

I intentionally waited a few days after finishing the game to sift through everything and not just rage-post immediately, so hopefully this comes across as relatable to those on a similar page and not as me telling you that you should hate the game too if you in fact are very happy with it. (Put another way: I'm not here to change minds, I'm here to scream into the ether)

[epickiya722]

"How is Horikoshi going to wrap up everything on five chapters?"

I don't know, you don't know. We just know Horikoshi and his team have a plan and they know how MHA is going to be wrapped up in five chapters.

They got it, they'll handle this. At the end of the day, this is Kohei Horikoshi's story.

Regardless, I feel like this is the case with some of you.

You're afraid of being disappointed. You're afraid of being disappointed because you have these expectations set so high. With that kind of standard, you're never going to be satisfied with anything.

So stuck on "this must satisfy me and only me" that you forget that that story not written by you is a story that is just being shared with you. Not given to you because you're special and you're not.

On top of that, some of you just crave for more, more, more. And more. And more. Even more.

You want nonstop content being pushed out while being impatient about it (looking at you, 'how dare we not get a new chapter this week' folks).

Just because one manga had been going on for longer than another, maybe even came out before that one, doesn't mean every manga is meant to last for a long time. Manga, anime, TV show, comic book, novel series, etc.

Fun fact, Horikoshi's previous works didn't last for ten years. His last one, Oumagadoki Zoo, lasted little less than a year. From July 2010 to April 2011.

Three years it ended before My Hero Academia came into the picture. And I'll be honest, I doubt Horikoshi even planned for MHA to last this long because he didn't have the experience before.

Once it got to a certain point, I doubt he even wants for MHA to go even longer.

Hell, that's something I know all too well as someone who writes. And from what I remember, stories have a beginning, a middle and an end.

Stories aren't meant to keep going on forever. They're meant to be read, to be told, to be understood, to be enjoyed.

Not be graded like some college report and not ongoing like the people who create those stories are damn machines.

Something that it's very clear to me that some of you forgotten that. Or even care, let's be real.

Some of you want perfection so bad and yet can't even write your own damn story.

Who even wants a perfect story anyways? I don't know about the rest of you, but a story with flaws is a story that could be learned from. Stories can guide you, too, in more ways than one.

Horikoshi's writing to me, at least, isn't perfect. It's entertaining. I got into MHA because I was entertained by the concept. I got interested into it because of a meme I saw. You think I wouldn't want to seek it out and see if it will entertain me?

Yes, there are some points of the story where I wanted to pull my hair out and I don't doubt that a future part may make that feeling return.

But at the same time, what if... that's the point? Maybe you were meant to feel that emotion? Maybe that's what the writer was going for?

Are you understanding me?

Maybe, example, with the end we got for Tomura was meant to upset you? Sadden you, anger you even? Stories work like that sometimes!

But I doubt the writer should be condemned for it because at the end of the day, it is just a piece of fiction. My Hero Academia is the same story where a woman can grow to the size of a building and a kid has a speech bubble for a head.

Now does that sound like a story that you should be acting like a complete fool over? Wishing harm towards and arguing with others over? Huh? Does it?

Honestly, after MHA ends, if you choose to move onto the next manga, anime, whatever how about stop expecting so much?

How about stop having this entitlement that the story must go your way and your way only?

How about remembering that eventually that story will end?

[cupidkenji]

If you think I'm pretty

Pairing: Homelander x afab!reader CW: fingering, praise, slightly OOC homie, threats of captivity (he says hes gonna keep reader in the penthouse that's it I promise it's not genuine), cursing, sub!reader, porn without plot (I think this is applicable), they're in a relationship before this, reader says 'John' cause moaning homelander is funny as fuck Summary: Being a perfectionist, you're unsatisfied with a recent test score. Homelander has a cure for that. Disclaimer: reader is always thought to be chubby/fat but there are no physical descriptors here, just an FYI WC: 1,955 Genuinely idk I'd like to apologize for this. I fell out of my Criminal Minds hyperfixation like months ago and haven't written since so I'm really rusty. This is 100% a self-insert but reader is gn and not described other than the fact that they're AFAB. Also this was only proof read once so please point out typos if you see them <3

Your mother used to scold you for being too hard on yourself. Her face is virtually the only thing you can picture as your screen burns your eyes a bit. It’s too early for the high brightness of the device, having woken up before the sun could reintroduce your eyes to light. You’d set yourself up to wake slightly after midnight, intending to check the score of a huge test you’d taken months ago and simply go back to sleep in a matter of minutes. A rather stupid plan, in hindsight. You were questioning now if you knew yourself at all. Your phone had nearly been in your hand when you felt the cold burn of anxiety in your lungs. This test was a huge fucking deal. You were a hardcore perfectionist on top of that, trying with countless futile attempts to surrender your idea of the model score. You just needed to pass, not get your professor to memorialize you in marble for your pure genius. You’d gotten up instead of turning on your phone, brushing your teeth and making your bed before pacing the room slightly while you thought. Essentially, you were just allowing the mantra of ‘cope’ to bound back and forth between your ears for a couple minutes. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cope with the disappointment of a lesser score, or you were telling yourself to come down a couple pegs and be happy with getting by. The repetition of the word soothed that icy-hot feeling that had festered from your lungs to your fingertips, and you checked.

You were fine. Not the score you wanted, but you were fine. 

Mentally you writhed against the slump of your shoulders, but the weight of this self-inflicted shortcoming hit harder than you were capable of defending yourself from. The long sigh you let out was all frost as the tension left your airways. How underwhelming. You laid down on the bed you’d made not ten minutes ago, hearing the window slide open a few seconds into your pity party. You normally left it unlocked for him, knowing if anyone else attempted to enter your home, he wasn’t far. He told you himself that he seemed to have tuned into you specifically; swearing he’d be able to hear you on the other side of the city if you needed him.

“It’s way too early for you to already be having a bad day. The sun’s not even up.” He was closer now, fully sealed into your space and approaching you with comfortable footsteps. You never fully got over the irony of seeing America’s greatest hero flying through your window in sweatpants. “What’s wrong?” You always noticed the subtle way he changed how he spoke around you. In every interview or interaction you’d ever witnessed of his, he’d spoken like a character. For a man who hated having his words scripted, he spoke the same as every cookie-cutter movie he’d starred in. He didn’t talk that way with you, something you hoped was subconscious. A demonstration of the safety he felt around you.

You shrugged in response to the question. You acknowledged the trivial nature of your feelings, knowing you probably reeked of sadness to him but attempting to downplay it anyways. “Bad test score.”

He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, allowing you the space to remain sprawled out. “Doubtful.” He laughed slightly as he said it, shaking his head and smiling. He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing minorly. “What’d you get?”

“A four.”

“What were you hoping to get?”

Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, knowing he would pick it up but also trying to spare yourself the rush of immaturity hearing yourself speak would bring. “A five.”

He sighed - a sigh full of endearment that his eyes reflected as he looked at you. You told him once that his eyes were the first thing you’d noticed. It was sunny the day you’d met, and they looked practically ethereal. You’d seen such chaos reflected in them even from day one. The masses called him ‘soulless’ often, but you couldn’t understand such an accusation from anyone who had ever seen him. His eyes were practically overflowing with soul, every time you looked at him it was all you saw. They were capable of incredibly dangerous things but they were so entrancing. He was so fucking enticing. 

You broke the eye contact, but he nudged your leg and moved his head to try and follow your eyes. “Hey-” He called for your attention, so you looked back at him. “You know that’s a good score, right?”

You smiled small at him. “No- I know. I’m just…I don’t know- strict with myself.” You found it hard to put into words. You knew you’d done well, but the ability to feel pride felt withheld from you. Like your eyes bore into it but your mind refused to distribute the feeling it brought to something tangible.

“I think you’re just too much of a fucking perfectionist.” His hand was splayed across your upper thigh from where he sat. No matter which part of you he touched, he had a grip that made your head spin. He was so sure of himself, the strength demonstrated from such an unassuming form never lost the novelty that it’d held when you met him. “Can’t let yourself admit when you did good.”

You tried to be dismissive, but it was hard to fake anything with a man like him. “As if you aren’t, John.” His jaw got the slightest bit tighter at the use of his name. Such a miniscule action that easily dodges the eyes of people who aren’t looking. You couldn’t really imagine not looking at him.

“I’m serious.” His face was still relaxed, but the expression in his eyes had shifted. His pupils dilated and his full attention was on you. “You did good.”

The only con of being with somebody with abilities such as his was the lack of secrecy. You used to laugh with your friends about how grateful you were for the discrete nature of arousal when living without certain body parts. That went out the window when you started seeing him. He knew the second anything shifted within you. He had every perversion you’d ever dreamt about practically categorized by the time your two month anniversary had rolled around. One of his favorite pastimes was casually working a turn-on into conversation and just watching you squirm.

You fought the urge to pull away from his hand, feeling your stomach drop slightly at a declaration like that. “Thank you.” You looked away from him again. Something you knew he didn’t really like but choosing to try and save face over anything else. 

“Yeah…I don’t know.” You could see his focus on the topic increasing by the second. His disposition was happy, but he held serious and almost threatening undertones. He tightened his grip on your thigh and you looked at back to him, hesitantly following the silent command to keep your eyes up. “I think you should say it.”

“John-” His assertiveness was starting to get to you, it always did. You sat up on your forearms to be a little more level with him but he moved his hand from your thigh to your stomach and pushed you back down. The thought of having to lay there and explicitly state that you did well on your test felt like a kid having to write in repetition on a chalkboard in detention. 

He was looking down at you, the eye contact making you slightly dizzy. His face was kind, it almost always was when he was around you, but the conversation was derailing. “I just think it’s important that you understand this.” He was so good at making you want what he thought was best.

You inhaled, swallowing your pride and licking your lips. “What do you want me to say?”

That familiar, condescending smile was starting to creep onto his lips. “Just tell the truth.” His eyebrows raised slightly in a silent prompt. “Say you did good.”

His hand was descending from your stomach, making it’s way to the hemline of your underwear. You hadn’t bothered to change out of what you were sleeping in, only now realizing the vulnerability of it. You held your tongue for a moment, breathing out a quiet “I did good.” 

He tore the only fabric between his hand and you off your body as easily as ripping a sheet of paper and leaned in a little more. “Say it again.”

“John-” You said it as barely an exhale as he skimmed his hand over you. You hadn’t even registered just how sensitive or how wet you’d gotten in the few minutes you were talking to him.

“I don’t know why you act so fucking noble. You should be running Ashleys around in circles or giving interns your coffee order. Not any of this testing bullshit that you’re too good for anyway.” His tone elevated to that mocking, cocky tone that swept into the most shame filled crevices of your mind and tugged the most deprived parts into the driver seat. He thumbed at your clit while he spoke, increasing and decreasing the pressure whenever he felt like it and effectively snatching any remaining ability to form coherent thought from your grabbing hands. “You’ve been chosen by a God, honey. You can do anything, I can give you anything.” He got breathier as he spoke, seemingly soaking up the desperation you were excreting and matching it in a tenfold.

You felt two of his fingers enter you effortlessly and you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his arm. You always felt the power imbalance most in times like these. A feeling like pulling an angel away from heaven just for yourself, combing through it’s wings with your fingers or trying to lap up a fraction of that status in a wildly inappropriate disregard for the natural roles of nature. He was so much more than you, but he just wanted you to feel good. You swore under your breath as he started circles on your clit. He never got hand cramps, never got tired. He would go until you couldn’t anymore.

“That’s it.” He had barely said it, more just exhaled the assurance under his breath. You were close, you’re sure he could feel it. “Gonna move you to my penthouse. Keep you braindead and needy.”

 It shouldn’t have hit you the way it did. Considering who he was, he could easily fulfill that promise with nobody at Vought even thinking twice. It was the way he said it, the way he acts. Always needing control and always right. The most powerful man alive spent his time fantasizing about control over you, and your stomach twisted in disgust at how badly it got you off.

He slowed his movements as your high declined. He was breathing heavy, but your heart was beating like a drum. He had the smallest smile on his face like the sound gave him a sense of satisfaction. You rose to your forearms, this time with no protest from him, and watched him stand up. He held the back of your head with the hand that wasn’t nearly dripping and kissed the top of your head. It was chaste and quick, but the domesticity of it made your throat ache. He uttered something about getting a towel to clean up, stating he’d be right back before exiting the room. 

You rushed the words out before he could leave. “But you didn’t-”

“Next time.” He just waved you off. “I just thought you deserved a little reward.”

[hp-hcs]

HIII i love your stories,can yiu pls write one where you hookup with theo after a slytherin party?Y/N thinks that this is a casual hookup but you were actually his longtime crush/obsession

• smut • drunk words, sober thoughts — best friend! theodore nott x gn! reader

warnings: SMUT MDNI, dubcon—sexual acts performed under the influence of alcohol, no anatomical descriptions/pronouns/gendered terms used, unsatisfying/disappointing ending, teen drinking/partying

having a really really really shitty week and solving my problems by writing smut 😐👍

hey! please don’t have sex while under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol! you are physically unable to consent in that situation!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“This is a bad idea, innit?”

“Definitely,” Theo agreed, leaning down to kiss the join between your neck and collarbone.

Your body thrummed with the alcohol running through your veins. You could feel that your senses were dulled and fuzzy, but you didn’t care in the slightest. You giggled at the ticklish feeling of Theo’s hair brushing against your jaw.

“Promise this won’t change anything between us?” You asked as he moved, shifting his full weight on top of you and pressing you down further into the mattress.

“Promise, Y/n,” he mumbled distractedly, listening your tiny pleased sounds as he returned to nibbling on your collarbone.

You giggled, splaying your hands across the smooth expanse of his freshly exposed chest, sliding them down to trace his abs.

Theo let out a shaky breath between his teeth, closing his eyes to try to regain composure. “You’re gonna be the death of me, caro.”

“Probably,” you agreed.

His hands trailed down your sides, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your bottoms and simultaneously tugging them and your underwear down in one smooth motion, tossing them to the side to join the slowly growing pile of shed clothing.

Theo groaned at the sight; you, fully exposed, splayed out across his bed. It was like Yule, Samhain, and his birthday all rolled up into one. “Merlin, Y/n- you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, love.”

You didn’t acknowledge what he said, instead more focused on trying to unbuckle his belt. As it turns out, Drunk You had absolutely no concept of belt buckles and how they work.

Eventually, you got it open, reluctantly letting go of Theo so that he could yank off his trousers.

Your body buzzed with alcohol and adrenaline, making you feel fuzzy and distant. You watch him through heavy-lidded eyes as he crawled back on top of you and kissed the shell of your ear. He murmured something to you that you couldn’t quite understand, but you laughed anyways. This was great! Why weren’t you drunk all the time?

You were jolted back into the present as Theodore’s nimble fingers sent zaps of pleasure shooting up your spine as he teased you, the sensation only magnifying as he gripped your hips and fully sunk into you.

You gasped out a startled moan, your hands flying up to hold onto his shoulders tightly.

He began a quick rhythm right off the bat, far too impatient to go slow.

“Fuck- that’s it, darlin’. Jus’ hold onto me,” he panted reassuringly, spreading a large hand across your stomach and smoothing it across your flesh. As his hand travelled further down, he pressed the heel of his hand into the space right below your navel, you both moaning in unison at the intensified sensation.

“Theo- Te-Teddy-” you panted as your fingers scrabbled for anything to hold onto, your nails raking along Theo’s back and leaving shaky pink lines. “Shit- shitshitshit- Theo!”

Your eyes practically rolled back in your head as you were hit with the strongest orgasm you’ve ever felt before.

Theo started laughing at how quickly you’d finished, but not before being abruptly cut off by his own orgasm.

He collapsed on top of you, limbs trembling. You petted his hair, kissing his forehead and mumbling your thanks.

You both fell asleep, the combination of alcohol and…exercise working hard to make you pass out in his bed.

~~~

You hummed softly at the comfortable feeling that surrounded you. You just felt so cozy in this soft and warm bed that you barely even noticed your pounding head.

You did, however, notice the strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

Ah, shit. Who’d I hook up with this time?

You slowly turned your head to look, praying to Salazar or Merlin or whoever that it wasn’t a Weasley.

It wasn’t.

However, your stomach dropped when you saw a familiar head of brown curls laying next go you.

Ah, double shit.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered to yourself. “Oh, fuck fuck fuckity fuck.”

Theo stirred next to you, his arms tightening around your body and tugging you back into his chest.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he mumbled against the back of your neck, his warm breath causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

“I…” you trailed off. “Uh-”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, one of his hands beginning to caress your side. “I’ve always been hoping for this to happen.”

You stiffened. “What?”

Theo chuckled, his sudden exhale ruffling your hair. “Y/n, I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.”

“What?”

“Look…would you please go steady with me?” He asked, his thumb rubbing small circles into your hip.

“...No.”

You were rather offended. This was your best friend. And he was only friends with you because he wanted to get laid?

What a douchebag.

“I- No?” Theo sounded entirely caught off guard, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he struggled to understand. He was certain that you’d say you’d always felt the same, that you were meant to be together, that the sex was good, and then kiss him.

This was not going according to plan.

“No.” You pulled back, rolling out of his bed. You were actively looking anywhere but at him as you picked up your clothes off the floor and hurriedly tugged them back on.

“Y/n-” Theo stuttered, his eyes still wide and tone uncomprehending as he watched you shove on your shoes, not even bothering to tie them.

You just hurried out of his dorm without a single glance back, leaving him alone in his bed and entirely shattering his heart.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

part two

[thevelvetvampyre]

Late Night Ride - Neil Lewis x Reader / Brothers Best Friend

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Reader / Brothers Best Friend

Summary: after a long day at the beach, you sit on Neil’s lap in the car ride home and takes advantage of your position

Warnings: Loss of virginity, age gap (unspecified), slightly noncon, pervert Neil (yummy), smut with little plot, cockwarming, public sex, unprotected

—————————————

“So who’s coming today?” You asked your brother in the front seat as the pair of you drove to the beach. The clock read 2pm and the sun was blazing down though the window screens onto your skin, already causing you to build up a sweat.

“You know. The guys from work” Your brother said not giving you any notice, barely even huffing out his response.

“Yeah- really helpful Jon” You said glaring into him.

Before huffing another sigh he responded “Lucien, Neil”. His eyes stayed focus on the road as you remained unsatisfied with his answer, slightly turning up the radio.

“Just those two? I thought more people were coming” You were slightly disappointed, but excited nonetheless because you could spend more personalised time with Neil.

Ever since you turned 18 his eyes were progressively undressing you as time went on. Of course, you had a little crush on him ever since he first came round when he was in high school to watch some obscure French flick with your brother but you were so young, barely even a teenager. He was always kinder to you than he was with most people, not that he was a mean person but he’d always seem so arrogant. You were the only one he treated as if he didn’t have a stick up his ass, treated you as his own sister. But now, starting specifically on your 18th birthday party once you had too much to drink and spoke your mouth off to him, he couldn’t help but feel some kind of sexual pull towards you. You purposely started to wear shorter skirts and lower shirts when he came around, pleased at his reaction as he stared at your skin and gulped his Adam apple down before turning red and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It was exciting, he wasn’t too much older but he was your brothers best friend and you knew both of you would be found dead if your brother found out how you felt towards him. More importantly, how he felt towards you. It didn’t help that he started watching “best friend’s sister” and “girl next door” porn. God, he felt filthy in his skin after shooting white ropes into tissues wishing it was the inside of your pussy. He had known you since before you even knew was sex was, so seeing you grow up and find your body was exhilarating for him. He knew you were a virgin as well, knowing you had only kissed a couple of guys at parties after a few drinks. He knew how innocent and inexperienced you were. Unfortunately, this only happened to turn him on more to a point where it was torturous, filling his mind with fantasies of ruining your innocence as he fisted his cock for the second time that evening imagining your pretty mouth around it.

“Yeah well, I’m thinking Neil might invite a couple girls once we get there” your chest dropped at your brothers comment.

“Oh…” your eyes trailed out the window.

“Don’t worry though, I’m sure they’ll be nice” Your brother shot you a sincere smile and leant over to rub your thigh.

The rest of the drive was filled with silence as your mind raced with thoughts over who Neil would invite, if he would invite any girls and if so what did they mean to him. As your stomach filled with anxiety, the roads seemed to elongate and each meter had turned into miles, making the rest of the drive a painful one.

——————

“There they are!” Neil screamed across the parking lot as you and your brother exited the car. Instantly, your face heated up as you looked down and couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face. Lucien and Neil stood alone with Neil already shirtless, much to your liking, and Lucien carrying the big beach bag. Neil hadn’t looked at you yet, high-fiving your brother and greeting him in their usual loser bro fashion. Lucien looked at you and smiled as he nodded his head as you squeaked a “hi” and left it at that. Your eyes looked over at Neil expecting him to greet you but all you saw was a cocked eyebrow as his eyes scanned your half naked body. Cursing yourself for showing up in just a bikini and see through skirt cover up, you wanted to curl into the ground, anything, just to stop his laser beam gaze over your skin. Finally, his eyes met yours and he huffed a big inhale, only slightly turning his lips into a smile before turning around and walking away.

“Jesus, it’s hot today” Your brother claimed, following just behind Neil with Lucien to his left as you trailed behind.

“I know… I can’t wait to get into the ocean” Lucien said, turning around to look at you. “Come on!” He started waving his hands for you to walk next to him.

Finally, Neil had chosen the spot on the beach with a simple “here” and Lucien dropped the bag and got the towels out. Feeling the tingle of sun over your skin, you unwrapped your skirt and bent over to tuck it into the bag and grabbing some sun lotion. Standing back up you turned around to see Neil already standing behind you, eyes glued to your ass as he stared wide and mouth open a jar. His eyebrow still managed to be cocked as he cleared his throat before his eyes flickered to your face and briefly past the rest of your body. He stood frozen glaring over you, as if it was physically impossible to remove his gaze from your body, constantly having to clear his throat in an attempt to break the obviousness to the tent growing in his trunks.

“You alright there Neil?” Lucien asked as his coughing had become apparent.

“I-uhm- yeah, just something stuck in my throat… sand maybe” he said as he rubbed his chest and gave a half assed smile.

Giving yourself a small smirk before opening the bottle of cream, you turned back around and started squirting the tube over your chest and shoulders, using your hands to rub the cream into your skin and up your neck. Neil had moved significantly closer to you now, close enough that you could hear his slight grunt as he watched you rub the white substance over your exposed areas. After covering what you could by yourself, you innocently looked around to see where your brother was to help you with your back. Much to your dismay, him and Lucien had began running down the beach to the ocean.

“See you losers!” He said as the pair laughed and made their way closer to the water. You awkwardly looked up and saw Neil standing close to you with one hand itching the back of his head, a look of discomfort on his face knowing what you were about to ask.

“Can you help me with my back please?” You said, reaching your arm out to pass him the tube.

“Uh, yeah-yeah of course. Cool” He took the cream as you turned around and moved your hair out of his way. You heard the bottle squirt and a few moments later felt his warm, large hand start at your neck, massaging slowly into your mid back. After only rubbing briefly for a few seconds, he removed his hand and you heard the bottle squirt again. Only this time, the tube had been thrown onto the floor next to your feet as he rubbed his hands together. He placed a strong grip on either sides of your neck and circled small circles at the perfect pressure, following the shape of your body as his hands fell to your shoulders, mid back, waist and lower back. It felt good, and your eyes were slowly shutting. His touch was skilled, much to your surprise, and deliberate on your flesh. His hands squeezed your waist and he stepped closer, you could feel the heat of his skin radiating onto your behind. A small groan fell from his lips as his hands then fell to the lowest of your back he could go, filling the dips above your ass with his thumbs as he rubbed harder, pulling you back slightly onto his crotch. After rubbing your lower back for a couple of seconds with a few groans leaving his lips at whisper level, his thumbs ran up your spine again to the top of your neck.

“There you go” he barely whispered into your ear. A chill ran up your spine as you slowly turned around to create space between you.

“Uhm-thanks” you watched his face as it fell into a slight smirk and he chuckled and walked away, making his way to the ocean to meet your brother and Lucien.

————————

The day had gone on, the boys played a few games on the beach and shared a couple of beers. Neil had reacted insulted when your brother suggested to invite girls, extremely opposed to the idea to bring other people into the hangout. This of course, was amazing news for you. At some point throughout the day, closer to evening time, a group of 2 guys and a girl who you learned to be dating one of the men came over and joined the group. Neil had recognised them as customers that came only the day before and rented out one of his favourite films, exciting asking them how they found the tape. The conversation lasted about an hour and the sun began to fall into the sea as the moon took its place. Disappointingly, the most conversation you had with Neil was when he put sunscreen on you, only giving you prolonged glances throughout the day as he and your brother made friends with the strangers from the day before. Finally, it was time to go home and the sun had completely worn you out, leaving you with a pink tint on your high points and the smell of the sea in your hair. Your brother had invited the pair of guys and the girl to your house for dinner and the afters, promising them there would be enough comfortable space in the car to fit all of you. This of course was not true.

“How will we all fit?” You asked, a couple of the others nodding in agreement.

“I can sit on my boyfriends lap” The girl said kindly.

“Good idea…uhm” Your brother looked around. “Considering I’m the only one who knows how to drive, I need you to sit on someone’s lap” He said looking at you.

“Me?” Your heart thumped a little harder. “Who’s?”

Your brother looked around the group and pointed at Neil, who was equally as surprised as you were. “Considering you’re practically her brother and I can’t trust any of you other pervs, you’ll have to make do with her on your lap for the ride”

Neil took a gulp and slowly looked at you for your reaction. There wasn’t really another choice in this scenario, so you bit the bullet and reluctantly agreed to sit on Neils lap for the car ride home.

——————

“Right, are we all comfortable?” Your brother grinned as he turned around and looked at everyone in the car. You were sat on Neils lap on the left, Lucien in the middle and the guy with his girlfriend on the right, their friend in the front seat and of course your brother driving.

“What do you think?” Neil said, shifting uncomfortably in the seat. “Can we just drive please” he commanded.

“Sure thing” Your brother turned back around and switched the radio on to a deafening volume, everyone having to scream over each other in order to be heard. Which they all did, the car was so loud you couldn’t even hear yourself think. The car started and pulled out the driveway, immediately being hit with bumpy roads and uneven driving ground.

You felt Neil shift again, your head shooting back in an attempt to see what all the discomfort was about. You looked at him as his face was slightly red, faced out the window with almost a pained look on his face. His eyes shifted without moving his head and looked at you, he tutted and grabbed your head and turned it around to face the front. You couldn’t understand why he was acting like this. Were you just too heavy? A wave of insecurity passed through you as you suddenly got extremely conscious over the weight you were putting on him. Wiggling on his lap trying to find a new balance, you felt his fingers instantly dig into your sides as you heard him take a sharp inhale of breath. You snapped your head back again to see him looking at your ass, where you connected to his crotch. His hips twitched up and it caused you to sit further back on him, finally feeling the answer to your question. Neil was incredibly hard. You could feel his cock poking just under your swimsuit and practically a thin layer of material away from touching you. His hands moved to your hips as he pressed you down further, eyes still glued onto your ass and eyebrows furrowed. His chest moved up and down at an aggressive pace as his eyes blinked rapidly. You were in shock, he surprisingly felt big for the size of him. Big and warm, whether it was the sun, the beer or the closeness of you two he was so warm. You pressed your legs together in an attempt to control the pulsing you were feeling yourself in your thong bottoms but this only seemed to pleasure him more as he slowly dropped his head back onto the seat’s headrest. After a couple of moments, he brought his head up and you turned to face the front in almost embarrassment to looking at him get a hard-on just from you sitting on his lap. You felt him come up to your ear and push your hips down simultaneously, even circling you a bit to give him a little bit more friction.

“I need you- need you to be so,so still for me” He whispered into your ear, his lips pressed on your neck as shivers went up your spine. All you could muster was slightly looking at him, a look of confusion on your face. His cock was throbbing by this point, his breathing was so heavy and you’d for sure have marks on your sides the next morning. Luckily the music was as loud as it was and it was dark as it was nighttime, making what he was doing not obvious to the people around you. He lent back onto the back of the seat and pressed himself harder into your mound.

“Sorry guys, the road looks a little bumpy coming up” your brother screamed over the radio.

Just as soon as he said that, you were bouncing incredibly aggressively onto Neil’s lap, feeling yourself grinding unintentionally onto his erection and feeling your walls pulsate around nothing at the rough contact you were receiving. The action of this caused Neil to whimper at a much louder volume, coughing over the sound he made to not bring attention to his pleasure.

“Jesus Neil… you’ve had an awful cough all day, are you alright?” Lucien asked to your right. He tightened his grip on your hips and pushed his hips up in frustration.

“I-Uh-yeah… like I said- the sand” He said breathlessly as he looked out the window.

The roads continued to bounce you forcibly onto his clothed boner as his hands massaged your hips, his head twitching in pleasure. After a couple of minutes he was in agony, you could feel his cock pulsate underneath you at the slightest touch and his groans becoming more and more obvious. He brought his chest to your back and placed his lips against your ear before slowly sucking at your lobe and using his tongue down your neck. You moaned slightly under your breath at the sensation which only encouraged him to go further. With his lips still against your ear, you heard him gulp before he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry, I-I have to do this” He whined. “I need you so bad” His voice practically cried and purred into your ear.

In shock you turned around as his fingers slipped under your skirt cover up, shifting your thong to the side as you felt your bare pussy pound against his clothed erection. You were soaking and he could feel it through his swimsuit, twitching his hips up in desperation to feel more of you. In one swift movement, his cock was freed from the restraint of his swimsuit and laying on his stomach, your lips bouncing on the underside of his shaft. He used one hand to harshly grab your hips, harder than before to raise you to a higher level, trying his damndest to be as discrete as possible. Lucien was too busy lent over the middle of the car talking to your brother and the guy in the front seat, perfectly covering what Neil was doing with his body to the couple on the right. Not that it would make much difference considering they were too busy twirling tongues with each other. Just as his tip had breached your entrance, your brother warned of a speed bump upcoming which he so clearly didn’t bother to slow down for.

“Speed bump guys!” Your brother said, continuing to speed over the road, causing you to aggressively land your pussy onto Neils cock. The stretch of him was blinding, his tip pounding straight into the back of your cervix with no warning and the stretch of him painful. Though he found little restraint due to how wet you had become, you were still a virgin and his entrance was greeted by the tightest walls he’d ever entered. Your back fell onto his chest as you covered your mouth with your hand in an attempt to cover up the scream your stomach had built up, Neil not doing the same as a loud whimper had left his mouth as his back arched. You felt his chest breath heavily against your back as his whimpers and groans turned into calm cries as the road still bumped and vibrated you around his shaft. Laying on him, he grabbed the side of your face and placed his lips against your ear.

“Oh fuck- fuck- you’re so tight-mmm” He had completely lost composure, losing his dignity to your walls that clenched around his throbbing cock. “I need you to st-stay- fuck oh my god- still” he was choking embarrassingly on his words and you felt your walls clench around him in response to his patheticness. You did as you were told, scared to move as the size of him was still foreign inside you, even slightly moving your hips for comfort caused him to groan and harshly grab you further down onto him.

“Mmm- so-so warm around me. Your pussy’s taking me so well” His hand had left your waist and grabbed the side of the door in an attempt to use it as an outlet for his already growing orgasm.

“You guys alright back there?” You’re brother screamed over the radio which caused you to snap up and quickly move forward, causing an intense heat to shoot up your insides and making Neil whimper again.

“Ye-yeah” You said much too quietly for anyone hear.

The road had seemingly become more bumpy, being able to feel every crack, risen rock and dip on the highway. Neil was practically shaking underneath you, the lack of movement causing his back to arch and brows to furrow as he tried his best to move his hips the most he could. Your back had found it’s way back onto Neils chest again, his hand sneaking underneath your swim suit in a risky attempt to grab your boob. You grabbed his hand and shook your head no in fear you’d get caught, which in turn only made him grab you more aggressively as he flexed his jaw. In retaliation, you tightened your walls around him and clenched him in a rhythmic pattern in desperation to have any slight form of movement or friction. Your ass was wet, not from sweat or sea water but your own arousal. You were piping hot, leaking around his cock and drenching his whole crotch area. Feeling you tighten around him he began to breath heavily again, twitching his hips up to push his already attached tip to your cervix even deeper. The mixture of his slight twitching and the vibration of the car moving was hypnotic, bringing him close to an orgasm.

“I-I’m gonna cum” he whispered in defeat, almost sounding embarrassed. You shot him a look as your eyes widened and your head shook in panic. All he did was chuckle and close his eyes and place his forehead on the side of yours.

“M’gonna cum so deep inside you. Ha-have you leak-“ is all he could say before you felt his cock twitch violently inside you, feeling your walls sprayed in his cum as the already hot area seemed to get boiling. A deep groan had interrupted his sentence as his eyes screwed shut and he grabbed onto you aggressively, hearing his desperate whimpers and groans right next to your ear. You began to clench around him again, although worried and shocked that he had cum inside of you, turned on by how much he seemed to get off by fucking you without moving. His pathetic whimpers were fast paced and he slurred out a mixture of swear words into your face, holding you as close as possible as you continued to feel his seed coat your insides. Hearing his heavy breath slow down and his grip loosen around your waist, you heard him gulp again and sigh out in relief as his eyes stayed shut.

“Fuck” is all he could say. Your breathing too was out of sync and although you felt slightly used, you were still incredibly turned on and disappointed you didn’t get to finish. With his softening cock still inside you he now delicately rubbed your sides, placing small wet kisses on your neck.

“Just wait till we get back” is all he whispered in your ear. “I’ll give you what you deserve”

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [6]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 5 | Fic Masterlist | Part 7

"Please enjoy your meal, master and mistress. We hope the dishes are to your liking." The servants bowed before leaving the hall after serving dinner for the night.

Sitting up straight, hands folded on your lap, you patiently awaited Seonghwa to begin eating. The enticing aroma of the dishes made your mouth water, and your eyes gleamed as you observed your husband's hands reaching for his chopsticks.

He noticed your gaze, smiled, and rather than taking a piece of meat for himself, he surprised you by placing it in your bowl instead, "Eat up; you must be hungry."

The general sighed as he saw you hesitating to start eating until he had taken the first bite. Amused, he set down his chopsticks and watched as you slumped in your seat, seemingly disappointed that he hadn't begun eating yet.

"Why are you still sitting around? Go ahead and eat," He said, and your eyes widened, "But, my lord, how can I—"

Shaking his head, he picked up his spoon and reached for a tofu dish he had noticed you eyeing for some time, scooping up just enough before holding it to your lips, "Here, you want this, don't you?" Before you could protest, he pushed it closer to you, "Open up before I change my mind," and you couldn't resist, taking a bite.

Eunsook couldn't help snickering into her fist as she witnessed the adorable interaction. You chewed cluelessly on your food, eyes sparkling as you savoured the flavour, while Seonghwa continued to eat with the same spoon, indirectly sharing a kiss with you.

Throughout dinner, your husband focused more on taking care of you, he filled your bowl with a variety of dishes and wiped the corners of your lips whenever your excitement caused a mess. After finishing his own meal, he continued to watch you with admiration as you kept eating.

Concern crept in when he noticed your movements slowing down, and you started breathing rather heavily. It seemed like you were already full but were pushing yourself to eat more, "Hey, slow down. Are you full? You need to stop eating if you are."

You shook your head, reaching for another slice of rolled omelette. Furrowing his brows, he realised you were struggling to swallow. Why were you continuing to eat if you were already so full? It was as if you didn't know when your next meal would be, and you were trying to consume as much as possible for the time being.

"Stop, stop," He repeated firmly, gently holding your wrist and taking the chopsticks from your hand, "Look at me," You took your eyes off the food and finally met his gaze, "Are you afraid you won't get to eat again?" You avoided eye contact and that confirmed his suspicion, it broke his heart to see you still in survival mode.

Feeling like you had done something wrong, you bowed your head and nervously fiddled with your fingers, "I-I'm sorry... I just have never had a proper meal like this before, a-and..."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," He assured, moving to hold your hands and rubbing his thumb over your skin comfortingly, "You're the mistress of this estate now. You can eat anything you want at any time. All you have to do is call for the servants, and they will serve you. As long as I live, you never have to worry about not being able to eat again, you hear me?"

You nodded, moved by the sincerity in his tone and the warmth in his touch and gaze, "I understand. Thank you, my lord."

However, he seemed unsatisfied with something you said, contemplating for a moment before murmuring, "Seonghwa. Just Seonghwa, please."

Your eyes widened, "Wh-what?"

He looked away from your questioning gaze, embarrassed, "You're my wife now, there's no need to be so formal. Just call me Seonghwa from now on."

"Okay... S-Seonghwa." You muttered unsurely, suppressing the blush on your cheeks as he lifted his eyes to stare at you in wonder.

Little did you know, the sound of his name coming from you melted his heart, further deepening the growing affection he had for you. Though it had only been a day or two since he met you, and despite his initial misguided disdain, once he learned the truth about you, an irrational desire to protect you took root within him. For the first time in forever, he found someone worth caring for.

As much as the head maid enjoyed watching the two of you exchange deep gazes all night, the rest of the servants in charge of the dining hall were waiting to clear up and get some rest.

With a loud clearing of her throat, she finally broke you both out of your little staring contest, "Master, mistress, are you finished with dinner? It's getting rather late now, we should probably make haste and clean up the hall before we attract all sorts of insects."

Suddenly remembering that you weren't alone in the hall, the general swiftly collected himself from his slightly flustered state, "Of course, send the maids in. Is the mistress' new quarters prepared?" He checked with Eunsook, moving to help you out of your seat with your hand still in his.

The elderly woman, with a concealed smile, nodded and bowed, "It is, master. I'll leave it to you to show mistress to her room then."

You waved to her as you followed your husband out of the hall, "Thank you for the food, Eunsook. Please tell the kitchen staff they did a wonderful job; every dish was incredibly tasty!"

She nodded with a beam, bowing again, "Yes, mistress. They'll be happy to hear that."

Leading you along, Seonghwa made an effort to appear composed, attempting to hide the joy he felt from walking with your hands intertwined. The passing servants were surprised at the rare sight of their master and mistress walking hand in hand. As they bowed, their smiles widened when you waved at them, and the general's soft chuckle didn't escape their notice.

It amused them how resolute he had initially been about getting rid of you, and now he seemed to have a hard time tearing his eyes away from you for even a moment.

"Come on, you'll love the new quarters," He said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You raised your eyebrows, "But what about my previous room? That was fine too."

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly at the sudden reminder of The Cold Palace, "Well, I may have broken the door, but that's not the point. The point is that you are now officially my wife, and Lady Park deserves nothing but the best, understood?" You nodded, simply feeling grateful for everything.

"We're here. Welcome to the House of Lotus."

Your jaw dropped at the sight of the beautiful private garden surrounding what was to be your new quarters. A pavilion on the right of the main chamber faced a small pond filled with lotus flowers, "You can relax over there, have some tea and read when the weather is good. This is all yours. If you ever need me for anything, I'm just down the path; we're practically neighbours."

The general panicked when he saw your eyes welling up with tears, releasing your hand to grasp your shoulders, "D-do you not like it? We can arrange a different one for you if you want—"

Shaking your head, you sniffled, "N-no, it's not that. I j-just can't believe this is really all mine. Th-thank you so much, Seonghwa..."

He breathed out in relief, pulling you into his arms as you cried into his neck, "What did I say, you silly girl? Only the best for you." He gazed around in satisfaction; he had intentionally requested his maids to arrange the room closest to his private quarters, wanting to be near you.

Aside from that, the abundance of lotus flowers in this specific area earned it the nickname House of Lotus. Known for its connection with purity, rebirth, and divinity, the lotus flower symbolises rising from a dark place into beauty and rebirth, mirroring its growth process. This was precisely what the general had envisioned for you—a metaphorical representation of new beginnings and a fresh start.

"Master, we have come to prepare mistress for bed. Do we have permission to proceed?"

"Of course, I'll leave you to it then." Your husband had no choice but to leave you as the group of servants assigned to you for the night arrived, hands carrying bath supplies, Yunho's prepared ointment for your wounds, and a fresh piece of nightgown.

"Have a good rest tonight, my dear. We're paying the dressmaker a visit tomorrow; we're getting you new clothes." He pressed a firm kiss onto your head and did not leave until he was sure you had entered the room, reluctantly heading towards his study to wait for updates from Jongho.

Reaching for the Jang family records he had hidden from you earlier, he got back to work. With the week off granted by the King for him to celebrate his wedding, Seonghwa was determined to gather as much intel as he could before setting his plans into motion, "Just you wait, minister. Savour the peace while you still can."

Just when the general believed he had prepared himself to learn the extent of the abuse you had endured throughout your life, he managed to keep his rage in check as he listened to the harrowing details. However, nothing could have prepared him for the new revelation that his aide brought to him.

His disgust for the Minister of Military Affairs, already intense, reached new heights with the secret he had just uncovered. The assistant bowed his head as his master broke into a grin of disbelief, "And here, I thought I was labelled the heartless monster. Clearly, the minister is the rightful owner of the title."

Pointing towards the copy of your family records on his desk, Seonghwa inquired, "What about this? Have you been able to confirm the suspicions I have about those three she-devils?"

Jongho shook his head, "Not yet, sir. We'll need evidence to prove your theory; we might have to dig deeper. Just getting someone to talk about it might not be sufficient for your plan to succeed."

The general nodded, "It's alright, Jongho. We still have some time. So long as we have that piece of evidence before I return to work next week, is that doable?"

After a brief moment of contemplation, his aide replied, "Yes, I think that should be enough time. If that is all for now, I'll be taking my leave, sir."

"Thank you, Jongho. You may go."

Left alone with his thoughts, your husband resisted the urge to run to you immediately. He felt so angry for you that he could almost cry. The depth of your suffering was unimaginable to him, and all he wanted was to embrace you, shield you from the harsh and cruel world, and erase the pain and traumatic memories.

Clutching the book with your family crest, he glared at your father's name, imagining all the ways he could take the old man out.

I promise you, my dear. I'll make them pay.

At the same time, he couldn't stop beating himself up for the way he had treated you on your first day here. His heart ached as he recalled you travelling this far all on your own, only to face continuous mistreatment from him. Even if you had already forgiven him—you weren't even angry at him in the first place, you had to be crazy for that—Seonghwa would never forgive himself for his actions. He would be spending the rest of his days trying to make up for it.

That night, he experienced another restless bout of sleep, tossing and turning as the endless imagined scenes of you being tortured, starved, and treated like cattle haunted his mind. At some point during the night, he couldn't resist the impulse and walked over to your quarters, standing by the entrance like a fool, contemplating whether he should knock.

But he quickly realised that you must not have had any decent rest for who knows how long, and here he was, on the verge of disturbing you just because he couldn't sleep. Gosh, how selfish could he be?

He trudged back to his own room, trying to focus on the thought of you being soundly asleep in your new and comfy bed. Thankfully, this image managed to bring a smile to his face, and just like that, he gradually joined you in dreamland.

"Good morning, mistress! We're here to help you get ready. May we please enter?" Your eyes fluttered open as Eunsook's voice reached you, and a yawn escaped your mouth after having what felt like the most amazing sleep for the first time in years.

You were tempted to hop off your bed and rush to open the door for them, but then you remembered you weren't supposed to do so. Clearing your throat, you answered politely, "Yes, you may enter."

The servants bowed, unable to hide their smiles upon seeing you sitting up on your bed, still marvelling at the grand interior of your new room despite having already spent one night there.

Unbeknownst to you, the maids had been competing to be chosen to serve you. In just your third day here, you had become the most precious figure in the entire estate, and everyone wished to work under you. This particular group of maids had been selected, and their excitement was palpable as they enthusiastically bathed, dressed, and fixed your hair and makeup for the day.

On the other hand, the less fortunate few found themselves assigned to prepare the general for the day. Especially now, with Jongho, the only one capable of handling Seonghwa, engaged in special duties elsewhere, they had no choice but to put up with their master, even as their hearts yearned to be in the House of Lotus.

The morning unfolded with remarkable ease, thanks to your presence. Your husband proved more manageable than usual, his typical grogginess dissipating as he witnessed your excitement over breakfast. It made him both happy and sad—happy to see you so easily satisfied but sad at the realisation of the deprivation you had endured. Your genuine appreciation for even the most basic necessities was a testament to your difficult past.

Repeatedly, he had to remind himself that your history was just that—history. There was nothing he could do to alter it. But he was your present and future, and he would do everything to ensure you had nothing but the best moving forward.

Having already provided you with the best quarters on his estate, the next step was to adorn you in the finest clothes in all of Joseon. Whether or not you arrived with clothing from your old home was irrelevant to him; he would have burned every piece of it to the ground regardless. His goal now was to ensure that, at first sight, everyone would recognise you as the esteemed and beloved wife of the terrifying General Park.

Waiting for you by his carriage, he was not disappointed by your reaction to the vehicle as he assisted you inside. Your eyes widened, and your jaw fell in astonishment as you took in the spacious interior. Usually, he kept the carriage's small windows closed, but anticipating your excitement, he left them open. A subtle smile played on his lips as you gazed in awe at the passing scenery.

Cute.

The dressmaker's shop was situated in the middle of a lively street in town, requiring the two of you to cover the remaining distance on foot while the carriage and its coachmen awaited your return. Accompanied by two servants trailing closely behind, the four of you began making your way through the bustling crowd.

While Seonghwa found himself irritated by the unending stares drawn by both of your extraordinary visuals, your attention was captivated by the surroundings.

This marked your first visit to the town, evident from your childlike fascination, a source of amusement for the observing servants who shared delighted giggles. Throughout the journey, your husband ensured a tight grip on your hand, apprehensive about the possibility of losing you in the busy crowd.

The commoners, oblivious to your identities, continued their activities nonchalantly. Little did they know they were looking at the famous General Park and his new wife. If your true status were known, the street might have cleared within seconds.

Growing weary of the continuous gazes, the general promptly guided you towards the shop he intended to visit.

Upon entering, you were captivated by the array of colourful and elegant hanbok on display. The servants remained close by, engaging in lively discussions about their preferred designs. Typically, Seonghwa would disapprove of his employees being so casual around him, but witnessing the joy on your face as you excitedly joined in on their conversation, he couldn't bring himself to reprimand the two maids. Sighing, he moved further into the establishment, searching for the owner.

Spotting the familiar back hunched over work at the rear of the salon, he couldn't help but roll his eyes before saying, "I still don't understand why you won't hire a helper. You could be robbed in broad daylight, for all we know. You weren't even aware you have a customer, being busy back here."

Turning around with a raised brow, the dressmaker countered, "You're wrong, Park Seonghwa. I didn't bother heading out because I knew it was you. That's how good I am, and that's why I don't need to spend unnecessarily on a helper."

Before the general stood an old friend from his early military days, one who had decided the life of a soldier was not his path and had pursued his passion in fashion, "Yes, yes. It's nice to see you too, Kim Hongjoong. Good to know you haven't changed much."

The shorter man grinned deviously at his friend's sarcastic response, glancing at you, "Aye, I haven't. Unlike you, General Park."

Hongjoong set his tools down and continued, "Heard you finally got married, and I didn't believe it, not until today. That lovely woman over there, that's her, isn't it? She must be quite the special one for you to accompany her all this way. This isn't like you at all. The Seonghwa I know would never waste his time coming here."

If there was one thing your husband did not miss about his friend, it was his relentless teasing. He rolled his eyes again when it went on, "You know, I really thought I'd never get to see you again, but here you are, all because of her."

Seonghwa crossed his arms over his chest, "One more word from you, Hongjoong, and you can kiss this business deal goodbye. Don't come crying to me when I end up employing another dressmaker for all of my wife's clothing."

Jaws falling slack, Hongjoong exclaimed, "Hold on, did I hear that right? All of your wife's clothing?"

The general smirked, "Yes, you heard correctly. I'm hiring you for the long term, enough for you to shut down your shop and work exclusively for my estate."

Hongjoong chuckled, "Closing my shop might be a stretch, but a steady income is tempting. I'm on board. You have good taste, Seonghwa. I assure you won't regret hiring me. I'll make Lady Park the most beautiful woman in all of Joseon, mark my words."

"Excellent. I'm counting on it, Hongjoong."

As pleased as your husband was to have secured a reliable dressmaker for you, there are moments when he regrets such decisions. He experiences a sense of déjà vu as he observes you interacting with his friend, recalling the uneasy feeling he had witnessing your reaction to Yunho.

"My lady, it seems my task is already defined. Your beauty is already exceptional, and I'm afraid I won't have to work too hard to enhance it at all." Hongjoong has always been quite the charmer, and Seonghwa disliked that he was using it on you, his wife, of all people.

The blush on your face, as adorable as it was, irked the general at the moment, as he wasn't the reason for it. He watched, unamused, as the dressmaker smugly took your measurements.

Contrary to your calm and oblivious demeanour, the two maids were keenly aware of their master's internal fury, manifested in the glares he shot at his friend. They trembled at the thought of his wrath, unaware that Hongjoong was the only one audacious enough to tease the general without fearing severe consequences. The two had always shared what people termed a love-hate relationship.

Other than you, your husband and the servants felt a sense of relief once the dressmaker completed noting your measurements, checking your design preferences, and determining which colours suited your skin tone best.

"Alright, it looks like we're done for now. I'll do my best to deliver the first batch of dresses to your estate by next week. Is that okay?" Seonghwa softened as soon as he recognised his friend's serious and professional side, nodding quickly, "That sounds perfect. Thank you, Hongjoong."

The shorter man gave him a sincere smile, "No, thank you, Seonghwa. I mean it in a good way when I say you've changed. Your wife is lovely, by the way. I'll be seeing you soon, my friend."

As the four of you made your way out of the shop, the general's irritation resurfaced as quickly as it had dissipated just moments ago when Hongjoong sent you a flirty wink, "Have a safe journey back. I can't wait to see you again, Lady Park."

Cutting short your innocent wave, Seonghwa swiftly wrapped a strong arm around your back and guided you away, not missing his friend's annoying laughter, "Let's go; the carriage is waiting." He grumbled, jealousy and petty anger flooding his veins.

But those emotions vanished as soon as you both got into the vehicle, the rhythmic rocking motion lulling you into drowsiness. In your sleepy state, your head landed on his shoulder, and you whispered, "Thank you, Seonghwa. I had fun today."

He pulled you closer, ensuring your comfort, and pressed his lips against your hair.

"Anything for you, my wife."

« Preview of Part 7 »

"Can you all believe this? Just a few days into marriage, and the general has already sent word to His Majesty that he has an important agenda to discuss in our next assembly?" The minister guffawed, downing a glass of rice wine in amusement.

His wife grinned slyly, "Do you reckon it has anything to do with her?"

"Oh, I bet it has everything to do with her!" Jinah chortled.

"He must have been so disgusted by the sight of her bare from all that makeup," Jinhee shook her head before panicking, "Wait a damn minute, what if he asks to swap her for one of us?"

Jinjoo whined, "Father, you better not agree to that if it happens!"

"You silly girls, your father would never let any of that happen. Right, honey?" Their mother drawled, curling up to her husband seductively. The mere thought of your potential misery brought them satisfaction.

Minister Jang nodded, "Don't worry, girls. Knowing Park Seonghwa, he most likely would not entertain the idea or ask for anything like that. We'll just have to wait and see what he wishes to talk about. This should be interesting."

"That better be the case." Jinhee muttered, arms crossed.

Jinah smirked, "Or who knows, he's already disposed of her and decided the only right thing to do is to report it."

Cruel laughter echoed through the dining hall of the Jang estate as your family speculated on the possible whereabouts of your remains. None of them noticed the mole within their staff, attentively listening to every word.

I know you're all probably dying to know Minister Jang's secret but what fun will it be for y'all to find out so soon, am I right?😝 Not to worry though, I promise it'll all be revealed in due time.

Thank you so much for 900+ followers! As always, hope you enjoyed and let me know all your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/2): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen

Tag list (2/2): see comment/reply section

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[moonchildstyles]

élan

élan part one: harry is a bodyguard by trade and y/n would do anything just to be left alone

wordcount: 18.5k+

cw: her dad is really mean tbh!! pls skip parts w him if you are senstive to that kind of thing!

—————

(Y/N) fought to keep her eyes focused in the dark of her father's office. The longer she sat there, listening to the shout of his voice, the easier it was to block it out as she waited for it to be over. She stopped listening when he went off on his tangent about how terrible she was (he loved to use the word selfish and anything he could think of to diminish her intelligence). He wasn't very creative anymore, these berating sessions feeling like a necessary task as opposed to a hurtful punishment these days. 

At least the interior designer he brought in last month had moved everything around, leaving his bookshelf behind his desk. This way, she could look over his shoulder and read the titles of his books. She was almost certain he hadn't read a single volume though he most likely told everyone that followed him in, that he had paged through each book more than once. 

"Are you even listening, (Y/N)?"

Perking up at the sound of her name, she nodded on instinct. "Mhm," she hummed absently. 

"What did I just say?" He was unimpressed—disbelieving. 

(Y/N) stayed silent. 

A heavy sigh fell from her father's lips. His eyes dimmed fro the angry fire she'd spotted before, leveling to disappointed embers the longer he looked at her. 

"This is what I mean, (Y/N)," he continued, harshly spitting out her name, "You don't care. Never have you thought about the consequences to your actions. You're too selfish to think of anyone but yourself!" The blaze sparked up once more as he flicked his gaze to the glossy tabloid splayed across his desk. "Can you even comprehend what this"—he gritted out the word, tapping his finger against the photo—"means for me? My investors are going to have my ass only Monday because you don't know how to control yourself for five minutes." 

She squirmed in her spot. Her gaze stayed locked on the tabloid cover. She was pictured with bitter features, her brows twisted in anger and eyes were ablaze. Her hand was outstretched as she dumped a full glass of rosé on Damien Moore's perfect, blonde head. Several angles were posted, documenting her gaped lips as she spat out venomous words while Damien looked on with seemingly innocent, wide blue eyes. The last in the series showed her walking out with the wine dripping down his features as he looked on in shock. A bold headline said: "Whore-mones or Another Drunken Rage?" 

(Y/N) swallowed as she took the scene in. 

Perfectly manicured nails clashed in her lap, the edges of her acrylics being worn dull from the restless ministrations. 

"Do you want me to fail?" her father prodded, unsatisfied with her silence. 

"It's not what it looks like—," she floundered, unable to keep her feelings out of it after looking at those photos, "He—Damien—" 

"It does not matter what happened, (Y/N)! This is what it looks like and that is what people are going to believe and what they are going to care about!" He seethed as he looked at her, (Y/N) unsurprised. "You're going to make us lose everything if you keep this up, do you understand that? Your apartment, everything you have in Paris, your stupid shopping sprees—you'll actually have to work if you want any of that. Did you think of any of that?" 

His harsh words slipped around her, filling every breath of air she pulled into her lungs. Any fight she had, any want to defend herself or give any kind of explanation, left her in an instant. "No," she answered, resigned. 

"I didn't fucking think so. You never think, anyway." 

(Y/N) just looked over his shoulder. Her gaze didn't shift even as his voice continued on, droning with insults and degrading remarks. 

She hadn't even known she was being photographed that day. There wasn't a single flash or shutter of a camera. The restaurant had even gone out of their way to assure them that no one would be able to slip inside without a reservation or loiter along the sidewalk in wait. 

But, inside sources and photographers always found a way, she supposed. Especially since it wasn't just her, it was her and Damien Moore on something that looked like it could have been a date. Of course paparazzi were going to find a way to get a photo of them together—anything to help fuel the rumors filling gossip pages and social media. 

This particularly source even went so far as to claim they were close enough to overhear the argument that sparked the thrown wine. Supposedly, (Y/N) had been seeing someone behind Damien's back (something that was impossible given the fact she had Damien weren't even talking like that, let alone in an exclusive relationship), and when he confronted her she blew up. She was so hopped up on her "whore-mones" as the headline so eloquently put it, and the obviously unfinished glass of wine, that she just had to throw the drink in his face. 

Because of course it was (Y/N)'s fault. Never could it have anything to do with Damien. He was the sterling Yale grad that came from the perfect family, while she was the "party girl" with divorced parents and a wild past. It was always going to be her fault, because that was more interesting than checking your sources. 

At least, that's what the "journalists" and "sources" said. 

It came with the territory, her dad had told her when she was freshly sixteen and photographers started waiting outside her private school. If you wanted to make the kind of money he made and be important in this world, there was going to be consequences, that's what he'd said when he saw the first photos of her and her friends having lunch on the quad. She was a pretty girl, anyway, of course there were going to be photos taken of her. She might as well take advantage of it instead of whining. 

She became a tabloid bunny before she had even turned eighteen, with every misstep documented on the internet and whatever publication bought the photos as exclusives. Because of that, this lashing was nothing to her. She'd "poorly reflected the family image" enough time to let her dad's words roll off of her. 

Her father was going to probably send her to the home in Malibu or whatever vacation rental was farthest from New York until he could stomach seeing her again. She'd happily take whatever location; it wasn't like she wanted to see him either. 

"(Y/N), we can't keep doing this." Finally focusing her gaze, she saw her father sitting with his eyes sealed closed, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't keep doing this." 

As much as she was numb to moments like these, it was when his anger melted away and she was left with a disappointed father that she felt cracks appear in her walls. The little girl inside still ached to see her daddy so upset with her; so disappointed he couldn't even look at her. 

"I'm sorry," she offered, something genuine lying beneath the deadpan tone. 

"I'm sure you are," he sighed, "But, that's not enough anymore." 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, lipgloss smearing across her pout, she stayed quiet.

"At this point, it's like you need a babysitter again. You can't be left by yourself and expected to behave." 

Not this again, she wanted to grumble. Her last "babysitter" was nothing more than an uppity handler that cared more about PR rather than her actual well being. 

Beginning to shake her head, (Y/N) tried to politely decline before he steamrolled over her. 

"I'm going to have to hire someone, whether you want it or not. A bodyguard, a handler, or something, just to follow you around and keep you out of trouble." 

Her lashes fluttered as her eyes widened at his plan. Her last handler didn't do more than text her throughout the day and meet with her once a week. He wanted someone on her back all the time?

"Don't you think that's a little extreme?" 

He still wouldn't look at her as he spoke, "Since you keep acting like a child, that's how I'm going to have to treat you." 

A slight panic sparked in the pit of her stomach. If she couldn't have her freedom, then what was any of this for? None of this—putting up with her father, allowing him to jerk her around, take his berating—was fucking worth it, then. 

"Dad, seriously," she tried again, her hands beginning to shake, "Those pictures aren't what it looks like, I promise." 

"And the others?" he asked sharply, whipping his gaze to match hers intently, "The one with you and Francesca sneaking out of a club at three in the morning when you were nineteen? The one of you screaming at Terra at her birthday party? Or, of course, the clips of you showing off your underwear while getting out of some random man's car?" 

(Y/N) shut down at the mention of her most famous and well photographed mistakes. He never bothered to get her side of the story to those photos either, he just liked to bring them up to taunt her. He'd rather believe an "insider" over his daughter. It didn't matter that she was his family. It only mattered what his investors thought, or the men at the country club, or whoever he was trying to cozy up to for his benefit. Every attempt to clear her name was thrown out; not even when she showed him that one of these insiders had found her home address and started sending her letters. Not even when she told him she was beginning to get scared did he even pretend to care. 

"That's what I thought," her father continued after she left them in silence, "Now, I'm going to have to hire someone to ensure you don't keep causing trouble, and you are going to respect them. If you want any chance of me letting this go, you're going to respect them more than you apparently respect me." 

She stayed quiet. There wasn't anything she could add to this. 

"Is there anything you want to say?" he pressed. A faux offer of debate. 

(Y/N) only shook her head. 

"Fine," he spat out, "Then go to bed. I don't want to see you for the rest of the night."

She was up and out of her seat immediately, not wasting a single second before her Dior heels were rapidly clacking over the cherrywood floors of her father's office. Her eyes were on the ground, watching the transition between the wood to the sparkling marble throughout the rest of the flawless Upstate mansion. Everything was high-end and fine, perfect and unburdened. It was full of everything her dad wanted her to be but she could never manage to be as well behaved as a lamp or as quiet as a Persian rug. 

Trailing through the labyrinth of staircases and sealed doors, (Y/N) beelined to her childhood room. It was left exactly how it had been when she moved out at nineteen. It had way too much gold and hidden compartments her friends made to hide liquor for their slumber parties. Her bed was too big with a mattress that was too stiff and sheets too starchy from disuse. 

Her dad never bothered to clear it out or even change a single piece of furniture—not because he cared or wanted her to have a space in his life, but because he didn't think of her enough to even remember this was here. 

Shedding her Chanel sweater and dropping her skirt to puddle at her feet, (Y/N) dressed down to her undergarments before stealing an oversized shirt from a film festival she and Francesca had been invited to at seventeen. The fabric was soft and worn as it fell to the middle of her thighs, the fit slouching and stretched just like it was all those years ago. 

That was all the comfort she could find as she slipped into bed, the sheets dragging across her bare legs. With her head cushioned by an overstuffed pillow, (Y/N) shuttered her eyes as she laid of on her back. Taking in deep breaths, she did her best to keep herself from shedding any tears. 

There wasn't a single reason she should cry over her father. There was nothing there for her to be upset over; none of his words sliced the way he thought they did, that father-daughter bond having been severed when she was way too young. Her efforts were better utilized trying to figure out how to get out of this whole thing. 

Aside from the fact she didn't want a handler—or whatever this babysitter's official title would be—following her around, she needed her freedom. Having the space away from her father's world was the only thing keeping her sane, even if she was barely hanging on. 

She'd been suffocated enough of her life, she needed to find a way to get this pair of strangling hands off of her neck sooner rather than later.

—————

"He literally arranged a flight for me to meet him in Greece, but he only ever messages me after ten like I'm a booty call or something."

Francesca's babbling complaints were some of her favorite things. It was fun hearing what the biggest problems in her life were, as if it was really such a bad thing to have a billionaire entertaining a romance with you. Even if it only occurred after ten p.m.

"Isn't there a time difference between here and Greece?" (Y/N) asked, the Prada and Dior bags in the crook of her elbow brushing against each other as she raised her hand to flick a strand of hair off of her shoulder. Summer was beginning to fall over the city, that much she could tell from the humid breeze twirling around them. 

"I mean sure, but that's not the point," Fran argued, breathing out a frustrated sigh, "It's like he doesn't think I'll ghost him if he starts annoying me. He's not the only one with a yacht, you know." 

"I know, bu—" 

(Y/N) was cut off by the sound of her phone vibrating in her bag, the device rattling against her lipgloss tube. Francesca paused her story, watching as (Y/N) pulled her phone out of her bag. Clocking the name on the screen, she had to keep from rolling her eyes. There had already been a photographer taking photos of them through the windows of Prada and she wasn't sure if they'd followed, but a picture of her rolling her eyes before answering the phone would surely be spun into something sensational.

"Hold on, it's my dad," she mumbled before pressing the phone to her ear. 

Without waiting for a greeting, her father brightened through the receiver with a call of her name. "(Y/N)! Are you still out with Francesca?" She could hear his smile through the phone. The investor meeting must have gone better than he thought. 

"Yeah," she answered absently, "We just finished lunch and shopping. I think we're going to go back to my apartment before we go out tonight. Why?" 

"Would you be able to come home this afternoon, instead? There's someone I want you to meet."

The lax in her muscles evaporated at his words. Though it was posed as a question, she knew there was only one answer he would accept. It was never a good thing when he wanted her to meet someone, but it was a required thing she'd learned. More often than not, he wanted her to meet an investor's son, or some man he drank too much with at the country club. 

Cautiously, she asked, "Who is it?" 

"It's a surprise," he beamed over the phone, "Drop off your things and I'll have one of the drivers come to pick you up." 

"I mean, I think Franny actually made reservations at—" 

This time around, her father's voice had a curt edge underneath the faux sweetness he started the call with. "I think you're going to have to tell Francesca that you need to reschedule, sweetie," he said, voice too pleasant, "I need you to come home tonight." 

Swallowing around her dry throat, (Y/N) resigned herself to the change in the day's plans. "Okay, dad," she muttered. 

"See you soon, honey! Love you!" 

(Y/N) didn't bother to reciprocate his performance, instead just hanging up. He wouldn't shout at her over the dropped call if someone else was present anyway, might as well take advantage she decided.

Beside him, Francesca looked at her with a matching pout. "You have to go home, huh?" 

"Yeah," (Y/N) breathed, dropping her phone back into her purse as they crossed the busy intersection, "My dad wants me to meet one of his friends or something." 

Francesca affectionately bumped against Y/N's shoulder as the car taking them back to her apartment came into view. "Well, if you don't like this one, send me his number and I'll take him off your hands. Just make sure he also has a yacht in Greece." 

Though her features stretched into a smile with a bubbling laugh, (Y/N) wasn't too impressed with Francesca's comment. While she was the best friend (Y/N) had ever had, the only person that knew much about what happened at home and why she would do next to anything to avoid her father, Francesca didn't get it. She supported (Y/N) and didn't mind being the listening ear and the shoulder to lean on, but she never really understood why certain things bothered (Y/N). Everything was very light-hearted in Franny's eyes—there was never a reason not to be receptive if a rich man wanted to buy her a drink or a company wanted to use her likeness without permission. Everything was an opportunity, not a crossed boundary. 

"I doubt he will," (Y/N) played along, setting her shopping bags at her feet after climbing into the black car, "But I'll make sure to put in a good word for you in case he has one in Florence." 

Francesca's laugh filled the cab of the car though (Y/N) was already back home with her father, trying to navigate her way out of whatever he planned. 

—————

"Thank you, Sully," (Y/N) chirped as her driver helped her step out of the car. 

"My pleasure, Ms. (Y/N)," he offered, waiting for her to steady herself over the gravel of her father's long driveway, "Also, I wanted to say thank you again for the clothing you passed on to my daughter. She loved her prom dress and is already asking her mom if she can get it preserved so she can keep it forever. Thank you for taking the time and picking some things out for her—it made her night." 

"Of course," she bubbled, allowing Sully to escort her to the front door of the mansion, "I'm so happy she liked any of it! Let me know if she needs anything else for graduation or anything at all."

The smile on his face made it especially worth it to let go of her favorite vintage Dior gown. 

Waving goodbye to Sully, (Y/N) stepped over the threshold of the front door, already regretting not fighting harder to get out of this. Goosebumps touched her skin as the temperature dropped. She shut the warmth outside behind her, the lock ensuring nothing comforting could follow her into the lion's den.

Despite the place being her childhood home, there was nothing left for her here, she knew that. It barely even resembled the same place she used to celebrate holidays and share tense family dinners in. Her dad's favorite interior designer had the pleasure of redecorating the place every few years, erasing anything that made it not look like a catalogue. 

Her heels clicked over the floors as she made her way up to his office. She wanted to take her time, but she was sure her father already knew she was there. It was better to refrain from keeping him waiting. 

Scaling the stairs, she heard a pair of voices and distant laughter. She didn't need to see the space to know her dad had probably cracked open the decanter of whiskey he had on display on one of his shelves, crystal glasses filled for the both of them. It wasn't hard to imagine the kinds of lines her dad would offer in an attempt to schmooze with whoever was waiting for her. She'd heard it all dozens of times at this point. 

The other voice, though, took her by surprise. This one was too deep and mature to be any kind of investor's son, and too sober and untainted by years of smoking cigars to be one of the men at the country club. Her steps slowed some. Her expectations shifted as she trailed down the hallway in the direction of the office, heels muffled by the long rug under her feet. 

With the heavy door to his office in front of her, (Y/N) carefully knocked on the panel, listening as the voices inside stilled at her disruption. Typically, her father would just grunt a permission of entrance or already be raging when she stepped over the threshold, but she knew he was committed to whatever show he was putting on when he opened the door for her himself.

"(Y/N), sweetie," he greeted her, toothy smile on his lips. "Thank you for coming so quickly; I know you were busy with Francesca, but I'm happy you're here." 

If that wasn't enough, the hug he pulled her into was more than alarming. The last time he hugged her when cameras weren't present was the day her parents told her they were divorcing.  She didn't even know how to reciprocate. 

Before she had a chance to screw her head on right, he pulled away and began leading her inside his office. 

"Of course," she chirped, falling into her designated role for this scene. She kept her gaze high as she followed him in, feigning confidence in the midst of whoever it was that was awaiting her. 

"I have someone special for you to meet," he continued, pitching his voice louder as to catch the attention of the one other in the room. 

Around his shoulder, (Y/N) spotted a head of brown hair, black clothing stretched around broad shoulders and tan skin on the back of their neck. They faced forward despite the obvious way her father was trying to catch their attention. Pacing her breathing, (Y/N) fell into the loving daughter character, willing to do anything for her doting father. 

Welcome to the show. She just hoped it would be a short viewing. 

Approaching the pair of chairs positioned before the cherry-stained desk, her father held out a sweeping hand. "Harry," he said, looking to his guest, "This is my daughter, (Y/N)." 

At the sound of his name, the guest—Harry—stood from where he was sitting, moving with calculated grace as he turned to face the both of them. He stepped away from the cushioned seats, a stoic expression on his features as he looked towards her. 

He wore all black down to his shoes, standing taller than her father's height. His arms and chest were thick with muscle, tan skin and tattoos littering the space. He had beetles and mermaids, hearts and roses inked across, some sketches more faded than others. A cross had even been needed into his hand. The chain of a necklace glimmered in the lowlight though any pendant that may be attached were hidden under the neckline of his top. Moving up the column of his throat, his face was made of hard planes and sharp angles. His nose was strong and straight. Stubble shown blonde in the light across the bottom half of his face, a mole off to the side of his mouth. Everything softened as she matched his eye contact, mossy jade with sparkles of sunlight flecked through. Long curling lashes framed his gaze. 

He was gorgeous, that's for sure. Not the usual kind of person her father associated with. He must be some kind of new money millionaire, easily fooled by her father's charms. 

The man took her in as well, his gaze observant as if there was a notepad he had in his head to take down every detail of her. It didn't feel like the affectionate gaze she'd felt before tracing down her body. Especially with the way his practiced expression stayed level, a wall hidden behind his eyes. 

Nonetheless, she kept her facade up and ready, a beaming smile on her face. She reached out her delicately manicured hand, palm smelling of the Miss Dior cream she'd rubbed over her hands on the car ride over. 

"Nice to meet you, Harry," she greeted, a mild smile on her face. 

His grip was strong as he grabbed her hand, palm to palm with callouses matching the soft parts of her own. "Likewise." 

(Y/N) couldn't help but to recoil some as she retracted her hand. It wasn't a new reaction, especially some people who met her after reading too much into the tabloid stories and anonymous blogs. Half the time strangers waited for her to drunkenly blow up on them. Though it wasn't a typical reaction from those who requested to meet her. 

Her father didn't seem to pay any mind to the chilled interaction, rounding the width of his desk to take his throne on the other side, leaving (Y/N) and Harry to settle beside each other across from him. 

"Remember when we decided you wanted extra guidance, (Y/N)?" her dad asked, bleached white smile on his face, "After everything with Damien recently?" 

Ice touched her spine as she took in his sticky sweet words. She knew where this meeting was going now. 

As much as he tried to hide behind the "we" words and his fake smile, (Y/N) knew this wasn't some investor sitting beside her now. 

Harry was her new cage. 

"I remember," she offered, her own voice sounding far away. 

"Well," he continued with a flourish leaning over his desk with his elbow propped on the wood, "Harry, here, is that guidance we were looking for.  He used to work for Camila and Monroe as their head of security, but he's agreed to be your personal bodyguard until you're back on track." He looked too proud of himself as he spoke. "He's going to take good care of you, sweetie."  

Bodyguard. 

Her personal bodyguard. 

When her father pitched this whole idea and sent her to her room like a child, she honestly figured it would be another handler he would find for her. While it wasn't ideal, she knew she could deal with a handler. She could deal with an uppity woman bossing her around from a distance; she could deal with painting a facade and adhering to her father's guidelines through a handler. 

But, a bodyguard—or personal security, as he so delicately put it—was a different story. 

Harry would be tasked with following her everywhere. He'd have access to her home, access to the person she was around her friends, who she was around her father. Downtime would no longer be a thing with Harry around—recovery and privacy being thrown out. 

Francesca had a bodyguard when they were teenagers. Though it was only over the summers when they weren't away at school, those months he was present were... odd to (Y/N). He wasn't a mean man, but he was always there. Franny wasn't as bothered as she was, but (Y/N) felt like there was no privacy—no space to talk to her best friend about anything. He was always there listening, watching, and anticipating any need for protection. She felt exposed in his presence, no secrets truly secret or downtime when someone constantly had eyes on them. 

If this arrangement was anything like that, (Y/N) didn't know if her sanity was going to survive these months. 

Despite her insides beginning to churn, her glossy-lipped smile stayed intact with stiff cheeks. "Wow! That's amazing!" 

Her performance must have been subpar if the way her father flashed his gaze at her, a glance that hardened a little too much. She needed to be trying harder, was what he was telling her. She wasn't being perfect like he wanted. 

"I've already warned him about your history of outbursts," her father said, a stealthy jab at her, "and we discussed everything with Damien. I think he's up for the challenge." 

It was an interesting feeling being called a "challenge" by her own father, knowing he must have shared much more degrading comments behind her back disguised as warranted advice. It was all preparation, he probably thought. A proper warning. 

She shoved that feeling down—whatever that feeling was called—and instead focused on her role. As long as she bubbled, chirped, and smiled, she could get out of this room sooner rather than later. 

"Good," she said, a breathy laugh floating out with her voice, "I'll try not to give you any surprises, then." Looking to Harry, she leaned into her persona and played along. He didn't glance at her once, keeping his gaze forward on her father as if he were watching a movie. 

"There won't be any surprises, actually, right (Y/N)?" her father said, a tad too sharp under his act. 

"Right," she settled, calming under the weight of the room. 

Silence settled over, neither she nor her father plucking up the words while Harry stayed an observing pillar. 

This was her opening. If she acted fast, she could get out of here before either of them could stop her. 

"It was really nice to meet you, Harry," she said politely, her fingers curling around the arms of her chair, "Thank you for coming to work with us. I actually have early breakfast plans with Fran tomorrow morning back in the city, so I should probably start hea—" 

"Actually," her father cut her off sharply, his eyes hardening as they landed on her, "I was hoping you would stay for dinner tonight, sweetie. After Harry and I finish ironing out his contract, I wanted to talk to you some more before he officially started with you." 

Instinctively, she wanted to fight him on this. Spending another night here less than a month after the last time she had a breakdown here wasn't on the top of her list of wants, currently. But, knowing there was someone here already expecting the worst from her, forced her to settle. If she talked back it would only reinforce everything her father probably spouted off about her earlier. 

"Okay," she smiled, standing to her feet before inching towards he door, "I'll wait in my room then and give you guys some privacy." 

While her father offered a small dismissal to her in the form of a stuff smile and a promise to call her for dinner, Harry didn't bother to look twice at her. She didn't waste a moment before she was rushing back to her room. She didn't care if they could hear the pacing of her heels over the floors, knowing she was all but running away from that room. 

After twisting the lock on her bedroom door, (Y/N) collapsed onto her bed. Her breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling a little too fast for her head to stay clear. Pinpricks of static began to dance on her palms, fingertips beginning to go numb. A hole began to develop in the pit of her stomach. 

This might be one of the last real moments of alone time for the next couple of months, and she was spending it on the verge of a panic attack. 

(Y/N) knew her dad didn't trust her, but to have someone on his payroll whose only purpose was to follow her around stung more than she was willing to admit. She wasn't a stupid child despite how much he wanted to believe that. 

Harry wasn't there to protect her, she knew that. He was a hired hand to put her back in her place every time her father wasn't there to do it himself. He was another body to crowd her into a corner and suffocate her as long as she kept smiling. Harry was another reminder that nothing was allowed to be hers; her thoughts, her time, her space was to be shared just like the rest of herself.

Besides, Harry might be the kind of person willing to sell stories to tabloids. Who better than someone tasked with observing her every mood to be an "insider"? It wouldn't be the first time a Secrets Edition came out about her. 

With her eyes fixed to a knot swirling in the marble flooring, (Y/N) tried to unlatch the phantom hands wrapped around her neck. 

What was going to be left of her if she was constantly going to be performing? 

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) fisted her hands in her lap, the hem of her Dior minidress caught in the fray. She needed to calm down. 

No matter what, she was still luckier than most people in this world. She needed to keep that in mind if she was going to keep her head on straight. She was going to figure this out, and she was going to be okay even if a tiny bit cracked at the edges. 

Curling up on her dusty bed, she leveled her breathing as much as she could despite the shuddering of her lungs. Every spiraling thought had to be neatly rolled up and put away.

A breakdown was probably on the list of banned surprises her father had in mind, anyway.

—————

Poking at her dry salad, (Y/N) watched the drops of condensation river down her glass of lemon water. Across from her, her father tore at his too-scorched steak, a side of hearty potatoes and glass of whiskey to compliment the meat. 

He hadn't said a word to her since she sat down, instead opting to focus on his tailored dinner while she was left with her pre-arranged salad. It was more lady-like, he'd told her once before, to eat like a rabbit. Leave the big things to men—they needed it after running the world, she'd heard him joke though she's sure it wasn't a joke to him.

As heavy as the silence was weighing on her, she wasn't going to be the first one to speak either. He was the one that requested she spend dinner with him, he was going to have to lead the conversation. That left only the clicking of utensils against the fine china plates. 

Suddenly piping up, (Y/N) lifted her gaze to her father's as he spoke, "You're going to have to start being nice to Harry, you know. He's not going away until I say, and I could tell you were being fake today. If you're going to lie, at least try harder."

As if her father wasn't the king of phony facades and fake personality traits. He was the one that shattered that illusion the second he couldn't hide his temper with her earlier. It didn't take much to notice he didn't actually care about her. 

Those hours in her room left her exhausted, though. She'd cried off and on until she finally convinced herself everything was fine and none of it truly mattered in the grand scheme of things; that her discomfort and fear was something minuscule enough to be pushed to the side and forgotten. She didn't have it in her to debate with him. 

"Yeah," she dejectedly agreed, running her fork through the leafy greens on her plate, "Sorry about that." 

Apparently, that was the worst thing she could have uttered with the way her father dropped his fork to clatter against his plate with his grip tightening on the handle of his steak knife. His jaw tensed, lips pinched. 

"I don't care how you feel about this, (Y/N)," he gritted out, "Don't think I don't mean that. You are going to show him some respect, listen to everything he says, and behave accordingly. Otherwise, he has full permission to correct you as he sees fit. And, he will tell me every time he has to correct you, so keep in mind that any kind of punishment he gives—mine will be ten times worse." 

She didn't doubt a word he said. If this was the kind of conversation he and Harry had after she left the room, there was no telling what kind of person her new security had to be to agree to a job with terms like these. She lacked faith in just how fairly he would "correct" her if his thoughts aligned with her father's. 

"Okay," (Y/N) mumbled, all the fight in her gone for the day. 

Her father sighed, disappointed as per usual. "This is going to be good for you," he told her, condescension tainting his tone, "I know you don't understand that now, but it will be. I just want you to settle down and stop giving people something to talk about. There's no reason to act like that if you want attention. You're pretty enough, people are already looking—there's no reason to be a bitch, too." Picking up his fork, he steadied his steak as he sliced off another too-tough bite. "Your life could be so much different—Damien might even take you back if you just apologized." 

The ice cubes in her drink slid against one another, melting in her water. "Okay." 

Chewing down his bite, her father took a long pull from his whiskey. 

"He starts with you on Friday. I told him to take a look at your apartment and make sure there isn't anything or anyone that isn't supposed to be there." His pointed gaze landed on her over the rim of his glass. "I will hear about everything, please remember that." 

His thinly veiled threat swept over her with nothing more than a meaningless brush. She kept her eyes on the drip of water traveling down the side of her glass. A melting ice cube clinked against the side. 

"Okay." 

—————

Phone pressed to her ear, (Y/N) flipped through her mail while Francesca bubbled in her ear. No matter how hard she tried to condition herself to be the same, Fran was always a much better morning person than she. 

"When do you see him again? Do you know yet, or is that a mystery, too?" Francesca was a little too excited to hear how inexpressive Harry had been in her father's office. His stoic coldness translated to mysterious heat to her. 

"My dad said he was supposed to start today, but I'm not sure. I woke up early and made an extra smoothie just in case, but he still hasn't shown." 

The envelopes in front of her were nothing but junk so far, her attention waning. 

"Ooh!" Francesca sang over the phone, "I'm so excited to meet him! We're still on for brunch this Sunday, right?" 

(Y/N) faltered where she stood, hands pausing on the collection of mail. "I don't know, Fran," she muttered, shifting her weight over the tiles of her kitchen, "I just—... He'd have to come with me." 

"I know, that's the point!" she bubbled, "You said he was cute and young, I want to meet him." 

"I know, but I wanted to talk about stuff, you know," (Y/N) pointed out. 

"And we will! You remember Barry from when we were in school, right? I promise you, your guy isn't going to care about anything going on as long as you aren't in danger," Francesca continued, referencing her security form when they were young. 

Sighing, (Y/N) wanted to correct Franny. Harry wasn't going to be eyeing out any suspects or worst case scenario moments, not if he was following her father's directions. He would be listening in and watching her for any and all infractions she could commit, including any topic of discussion that might be considered unbecoming. 

Francesca must have picked up on her lingering reluctance through the phone. "(Y/N), please," she pouted, "I know you're stressed and all about everything, but I don't want this to take you away from me. You can still live your life, you'll just have an extra shadow. That's all." 

A beat passed before she felt herself resign. "Okay, but if today is weird with him, I might be calling and cancelling." 

"Okay!" she squealed out, feeling as if this was her win no matter what, "Just keep an open mind today, and have fun!" 

"I'm sure I will," (Y/N) laughed, "Love you." 

"Love you, too! Bye!" 

With that, the call went dead leaving (Y/N)'s previous scroll through instagram lighting up her screen. Locking her phone, she took a breath to take a sip of her purple smoothie, hoping the addition of matcha and cherry juice this time would tap into some of her stress points and calm her. 

She kept up with her chosen routine for the morning, rifling through the remains of her pile of mail. Under a few more loose pieces of mail and catalogues was a navy blue envelope, stamped with silver starts and sparkling script spelling out her name. A faux wax seal laid the flap shut but gave away easily under a slight pick against the edge. Inside was an invitation to the annual 132 Gala—a benefit for the art gallery of the same name—she'd attended for the last couple of years, the dress code detailed out along with an RSVP request. Honestly, as much as she and her stylist had been anticipating the event, she almost forgot about it in the midst of all the variables entering her life. She was going to have to touch base with Dom to ensure he still had an idea in mind for her gown before she made any commitment. 

With the invitation being stowed away for later, a few more pieces of mail were thrown in the trash until she reached the final slip in the stack. She sighed when she spotted the familiar computerized script on the front. It was crumpled and creamy as opposed to a clean white. She was sure that if she had picked it up earlier in the week it would have still had that distinct woodsy scent as opposed to smelling like the inside of her mailbox. 

(Y/N) didn't need to peel open the flap to know that inside there would be a stack of glossy photos of her along with a typed letter. She knew there would be photos of her this week entering her apartment, going out with Francesca, driving to her father's, and the infamous event with Damien. Some of those photos would no doubt end up in a publication or posted along with a too-long article analyzing her outfit or body language. They always did. 

Without opening the envelope to verify her suspicions, (Y/N) bent to lay this letter with the rest in a drawer filled with junk and things she wanted to ignore. After pushing the drawer closed, she wiped every thought about her "admirer" from her thoughts. They weren't allowed to occupy her brain when there were much more pressing things to worry about. 

Flicking her gaze to the time blinking on her stove, she had to keep from rolling her eyes. While she wasn't much of a morning person, she couldn't believe her dad would allow someone to start a work day—no matter how informal—after nine a.m. With the time blinking well past ten in the morning and the sleep officially having been wiped from her eyes, she was growing unimpressed with the fact she was still waiting. 

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) centered herself, leaning back against the lip of the counter. She knew there was no reason to be upset with Harry, it wasn't like she had any say in his schedule nor was this lag truly disrupting anything for her. Her anxiety was beginning to manifest in ways she wasn't proud of and weren't helpful in any way. 

She thought some early morning yoga and a string of meditative poses would help settle her, work out that energy, but obviously none of that had the desired effect. Every time she tried to picture even what this Sunday's outing was going to be like, she wanted nothing more than to hide away and keep from encountering anyone or anything. It would be easier that way, she figured. That way she wouldn't have to explain who Harry was or why she needed any kind of security. 

Francesca was right, though. She knew that. Staying holed up and avoiding the world wouldn't do anything to get her father off her back. If it went on too long, eventually her father would begin picking out events for her to attend, and that was always a much worse outcome than just leaving her house on her own. 

Breathing the way her therapist from her teenage years taught her, (Y/N) centered herself as best she could with her bare feet on the cool tile of her kitchen. The chilled glass with her smoothie was slick against her palm, condensation dripping down the crystal. 

Everything was going to be fine. 

A buzz coming over the intercom knocked (Y/N) out of her head, her eyes flying open with her hand almost letting go of her smoothie. A stunted breath exhaled from her lungs as the moment she'd been waiting for laced together. 

She knew that was Harry waiting to be buzzed up to meet her for the second time. 

Forcing her head to clear, (Y/N) fell easily into her role of bubbly socialite. She had nothing to be afraid of, she told herself, it wasn't as if he was going to find anything her father would be ashamed of. She wasn't even his top priority, she reminded herself, her father and his company were Harry's clients, not (Y/N).

Pressing the small button on the stainless steel panel beside her front door, she dipped close to the microphone. "Good morning, how can I help you?" she asked as if she didn't already know what the answer would be. 

"Good morning, Ms. (Y/N)," answered the doorman from the lobby, the usual quiet settling in the background as he spoke, "I have a Mr. Harry Styles waiting down here for you. He said he's a part of your security team." 

"You can send him up, please," she replied, forcing a chirp to her voice. "Thank you, Claudio!" 

"Of course, Ms. (Y/N)," was all she heard back before the static went dead. Claudio was always a bit cold to her, but he never let any of the lurkers into the lobby so she'd take what she could get. 

The waiting game started again after the brief intermission, leaving (Y/N) in the silence of her apartment. She was suddenly too aware of the silk of her pajamas brushing her skin, the intricate threading on the hem of her shorts too heavy now. 

Lucky enough for her, it wasn't too long before she heard a knock reverberating through the door. It was firm and short, matching the man on the other side. 

A shot went through her system, a moment of static hitting her brain. She'd gone through worse bouts of anxiety and stressful situations, there was no reason to get worked up over something—someone—like this. 

With her mask on, complete with a reserved smile and detached gaze, (Y/N) opened her front door. The hinges glided like butter, welcoming Harry in where he stood in the hallway. 

Dressed in all black as she was starting to figure was his signature, he was waiting with an observant gaze being cast through the corridor. This was one of the few penthouse floors in the building leaving a bare space between where the elevator was stationed before leading to her front door. 

"Good morning," she told him pleasantly, "Come in." 

With a flourish, she stepped to the side with a space cleared for him to step into her apartment. 

"Good morning," he said, a slight smile on his features that appeared for a flash before he was back to his stoic state, "Thank you." 

Harry stepped in, acting as a dark spot with his fitted black t-shirt and trousers of the same shade against the understated hues of her home. (Y/N) locked the door behind him before turning to face him once more, a pleasant smile on her face. 

"How are you?" she asked, her voice even and warm despite how detached she felt. 

"Good, thank you," was his abrupt response, no followup about her own well being for the morning. He cast his gaze around her apartment, taking every corner and curve. She wasn't even sure he had properly looked at her at all since coming here. 

"Good," she said, trailing off awkwardly into the space around them. What kind of small talk do you make with a member of your security team? Especially one that didn't seem too keen on knowing their client. 

Leaning against her front door, she waited as he observed everything. He looked at her couch the same way he had looked at her days prior, as if he was compiling a list of all its attributes and deciding whether it not it had anything of value within. 

It was an odd feeling; she typically wasn't so blatantly compared to furniture to her face, that was usually left to the tabloids and internet trolls. 

Seeming to remember that she was still there, Harry stopped his game of finding everything in the room. He settled his eyes on her, a pointed look with a small pinch to his brows. 

Taking him in for that moment, she was reminded of just how pretty he was. He didn't look like the kind of man that would be guarding the models and gorgeous people, he should be one of the YSL or Gucci models that needed protecting from the crowds of people trying to get a closer look at him. Off-duty model, she figured would be the name of the article that Vogue would write about him, full of street style photos of him. 

With the green of his eyes meeting her own, he didn't waver where he stood. "Jus' go about your day like normal," he instructed her, arms crossed over his chest, "I want to learn your habits and your space first, but if you need to do anything out of the norm, let me know." 

"Okay," she sounded, voice quiet to her own ears. 

As much as she was sure she was meant to completely ignore him, she still felt odd crossing through her place towards her kitchen. She finished her smoothie and had left her blender and other supplies in the sink, so she could at least do the dishes maybe? At least that way her hands would be busy without plucking at her manicure.

Filling the sink with water, she did her best to treat Harry as nothing more than a shadow. To be fair, it wasn't that hard given the fact he barely made any noise as he traipsed around. It brought back memories of the way Barry used to hover around she and Franny when they were teenagers; it was easy to not pay too much attention to the extra body in the room, but her muscles never fully relaxed. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw him poking his head up the stairs to where her bedroom was, casting his gaze towards her ceiling, catching a view out her various windows as he went around. He was a perfect shadow dressed in black, but he seemed a bit too unimpressed for a neutral being. 

Harry stepped into her kitchen, the rubber soles of his shoes silent over the sparkling white granite flooring. "Do you have any kind of security system set up here? Cameras or anything like that?" he probed. 

Humming, (Y/N) picked up the rag she placed out for drying. "The building has some of those alarms installed with the codes and everything and there's the guys downstairs, but I don't have cameras set up in here or anything." 

Perpetually unimpressed, Harry only let out a, "Hm." 

She fixed her eyes onto her pink onyx countertops, tracing the swirling white lines in the faint pink of the stone. Why did he even care, she wanted to ask. What good would cameras in her home do when she was a nuisance outside of these walls? 

Watching as he headed down towards her guest rooms, she felt her tongue moving before her brain allowed it. "What are you looking for?" she poked, her question simple as he kept drying her dishes before placing them in cabinets. 

It wasn't like she was hiding any of the drugs or alcohol her dad surely warned him about, telling him to seek out and destroy before truly starting his job. If that was what he was toeing around her home for, he was going to be disappointed.

He didn't even turn to face her as he called back down the hallway to her, "Nothing in particular. Jus' noting things as I go; vantage points and the complete lack of any useful security around here."

Propping her hip against the lip of the counter, she let out a small sigh. Her hands twirled the rag she had used to dry her dishes, gaze following after her new security detail. 

"You don't have to pretend, you know," she started, saving them both some trouble by starting the conversation, "I know my dad didn't hire you to protect me or anything. He wants you protect the public, and his business from me." 

His ghosting footsteps came to a stop where stood down the hallway. He was in complete control as he turned to face her, that usual placid look molding his features. "Last I checked, you were my client. Not the public or your father's company." 

"But he's the one that's paying you," she countered, unwavering from the point she was trying to make, "I just don't want you to waste your time pretending to find something to protect me from." 

That deadpan look never changed from Harry's face. "'M not pretending, 'm doing my job." He paused only for a moment, his gaze bored and heavy on her skin. "Let me know if y'decide to go anywhere." 

That was the end of the conversation as far as (Y/N) was aware, Harry turning and leaving her as he went about doing whatever it was he considered to be his job. She didn't try to stop him again. If he wanted to waste his time, he could do just that. Not her problem, anymore.

Draining her sink, (Y/N) crept through her apartment to settle upon her plush couch. Clicking her television awake, she fumbled through streaming services until finally tuning into a rerun of a cooking show she was fond of. Though she couldn't quite sink into the cushions or yell to the T.V. as the contestants didn't see the obvious win she did, at least he wasn't right behind her. 

—————

"No, dad, I didn't give him any trouble yesterday." 

(Y/N) could practically hear the eyeball through the phone. "You know he's going to tell me, right? Lying won't change anything." 

It was her turn to give a petulant reaction, lashes fluttering as she almost got her eyes stuck in the back of her head. "I'm being serious. I'm not hiding anything, and I haven't even gone out or anything. There's been nothing to get upset over, dad." 

The trademark sigh of disappointment fluttered through the speaker. "What's the point of having a bodyguard if all you're going to do is stay home, (Y/N)?" 

"I'm going to brunch tomorrow with Fran and the girls," she countered, feeling her blood pressure rise over his argument. She was damned if she went out and was seen, damned if she stayed home and out of the public eye. She couldn't win. 

"Good," her father said, sounding all too pleased as if these plans were his doing, "I want him to see how you act in public, then we'll be able to start working on your problems." 

There was no argument she was going to give after that. She wasn't going to reward him or validate his claim that she is the problem. Because of course she was; it was never the photographers hounding her the second she turned sixteen, never the men around her that treated her like a tabloid bunny there for poking and prodding, and never him who didn't think to be a father for longer than it took for a flash of a camera to capture the moment. 

Dead air settled between them, (Y/N) pressing her phone to her ear with the help of her shoulder as she began to collect ingredients for her dinner. Her way of ignoring him came in redirection, instead focusing back on Harry, his new favorite person. 

"Harry thinks I should get a security system at my apartment," she offered, hoping the mention of his name was enough to get her father's head turning elsewhere. 

The beat that passed after her words showed she garnered the opposite reaction. "Did you tell him about those letters, (Y/N)?" he asked, voice hard as stone. 

Her lips thinned. "No." 

"Good. Don't." It didn't take much for (Y/N) to picture the way he was surely hanging his head over his dinner, perpetually disappointed in his only child. "Do not waste his time over those. Plenty of people take pictures with you, and if I find out you're having him worry about the one person that's actually a fan of you..." he trailed off as if she didn't know exactly what threat was about to leave his mouth, "I'm going to send you to stay with your mother." 

"Right. I won't." 

His worst punishment was always to push her off on others. The nannies she bonded with growing up, different boarding schools and summer programs, anyone that was willing to glance at her for longer than five seconds was in the running to take her off his hands. Her mother was always his favorite to threaten her with as if he knew where she was. 

(Y/N) didn't bother to listen to him anymore when it came to these moments. While she knew he'd never—could never—follow through with this particular threat, it was more than a little disheartening that he'd consider her calling for help as something that deserved a punishment. 

"Well," he started, speaking around his mouthful of whatever his chef had prepared for the night, "if I don't hear from Harry, I'll be calling you to see how tomorrow goes. Don't embarrass yourself, (Y/N). It's not worth it." 

"I know," she answered absently, her voice bored, "Goodnight, dad." 

"Night." 

Pulling her phone from her ear, (Y/N) focused on preparing the zucchini for the pasta primavera she'd been craving. Her thoughts turned methodical now that she had something structured to give her attention to. It was much easier to think when she wasn't firmly planted in her stubbornness and trying to ward off the kind of anxiety she hadn't felt since she was a teenager. 

Harry had gone home late into the afternoon yesterday, and didn't return today. He didn't tell her anything other than he'd see her on Sunday morning for brunch, but she had figured he'd have paid her another visit in the meantime anyway. It was an odd arrangement anyway, as far as she could tell. 

Stretching her memory back, Francesca's security was always there. Even when (Y/N) would spend the night or go away on trips with family, Barry was a constant shadow. The pool house in their backyard was his, an extra room for every rental or new vacation house taken into account so Francesca was never without her bodyguard. While she hadn't really wanted this, she figured Harry would be the same way—his services a button away in case of any kind of moment in need from her. 

He hadn't even taken her number down when he was over. 

It had only been a suspicion before, but perhaps her dad really had been honest with Harry: there was no real danger surrounding (Y/N), just her as the problem that needed fixing before interacting any with the public. There would be no reason for him to watch over her as she slept or be available to any emergency that might appear in his absence. 

Whatever, she figured, sliding the half-moons of her zucchini into a bowl. At least she cleaned out her guest room, something she'd been meaning to do.

(Y/N) was going to take her time alone as if it were gold. She had a feeling tomorrow was going to be rough enough without a bad night's sleep. 

—————

Swimming to the surface of sleep, (Y/N) was half aware of the sound of the static buzzing coming through her apartment. It was far enough away, the buzz panel situated by the door, that she could ignore it easily as she shifted between her sheets with her eyes cinched closed. Brunch wasn't for a few hours anyway, she knew that, and if any of the girls needed her they would have called prior. 

Soon enough the buzzing ceased, allowing her brain to fuzzy further and to retrace her steps back to her dreamland. Whatever that was, wasn't an emergency, then. 

Until the banging knocks started. 

These, she wasn't able to ignore. Forcing her eyes open, she reached for her phone on her night stand. No missed calls or texts filled her notifications, but the time of seven a.m. reflected at her. There was only one person who could be giving her this wakeup call, but there was no reason for him to be here already. 

With no contact to reach out to see if it was Harry waiting for her, she just had to trust that the doormen downstairs wouldn't send anyone up that they didn't recognize or who wasn't on the list to be cleared for her penthouse elevator. 

Her hair was a mess on the top of her head, tangled and falling out of the braid she had twisted for the night, eyes crusted with sleep in the corners, and limbs shaking from the abrupt pull from her sleep. The only clear thought she had was that she was goin to have to give him the access code to her apartment or a key after this; early morning wakeups like this were something she was ever going to be happy about. 

Swinging the door open for him during a pause in his banging, (Y/N) barely looked at Harry before she was trying to usher him in with a sweep of her hand. 

"Morning," she grumbled, voice sticky in her throat. 

"Morning," Harry reciprocated, "Are you ready?" 

"What?" she asked over the click of her lock going back into place. 

"I thought you had plans to go out with your friends this morning." His voice was bored as if he couldn't believe he was having to remind her of her own agenda.

"Yeah, for brunch," she added, "We don't have to leave for a while." 

"Hm," was all he had to offer in response. Unimpressed. 

(Y/N) didn't have it in her to care whether or not he liked brunch or thought she was silly for whatever reason. She was too tired, and her bed was too soft. 

"I'm going back to bed," she told him, edging towards the staircase to her bedroom, "You can do whatever you want." 

A beat passed before Harry offered an acknowledgement in the form of a hum. He was much more interested in investigating more of her home, she figured with the way his eyes traipsed through the space. 

The second her head hit the pillow in her bedroom, (Y/N) happily relaxed into the mattress. 

While there was a part of her that felt odd knowing that there was someone else in her home, settling in while she was elsewhere, there were other parts of her that didn't mind it all that much. She'd never felt lonely before, but she also never had known what it was like to have someone else around like this. 

Even if he was being paid to, it was nice to her soft, sleep-molded brain that he'd care if something happened while she slept.

That thought made it a little bit easier to fall asleep again. 

—————

Standing before her bathroom mirror, (Y/N) sharpened her features and pouted her lips at her reflection. With her hair pinned back and a silky robe draped over her body, she looked every bit the dreamy socialite she pictured herself as in her teens. Except for the wreck that was her makeup so far. 

Breaking her pose, she let out an annoyed grumble as she took a closer look at the section of eyeshadow that just wouldn't blend out. She felt like a toddler having a tantrum the way she wanted to stomp her foot on the ground and throw her makeup brush and eyeshadow palette away. 

Everything had been going perfect until she decided to daringly dip into a slightly deeper shade than she was used to on her eyes, and now she was stuck with a semi-sweet chocolate blob on the outer corner of her eye when she was hoping for a milk chocolate fade. And, she didn't have time to redo anything. 

Life could be so unfair sometimes. 

From down the hallway, she heard footsteps glancing over the flooring towards the bathroom. Moments later, Harry appeared in the mirror behind her, something a little more urgent than she was used to in his gaze but just as serious and uninviting as she remembered from this morning. 

When he didn't say anything, only tracing his eyes over her bathroom, (Y/N) piped up, "Is everything okay?" He hadn't come to see her once since she woke up. 

Catching her gaze in the glass, he said, "I heard you." 

"Sorry," she started, dropping her eyes to her palette of neutral powders, "I'm just annoyed right now. My makeup looks dumb, and I don't have time to redo it." 

Harry relaxed some where he stood, his arms dropping from across his chest as he leant against the doorjamb. The observations never stopped, even as she resumed trying to blend out her makeup. 

"I thought you had people to do that for you," he said, brows furrowing just a pinch. 

(Y/N) shrugged, fluffing a creamy shade over the deep mass in hopes of lightening the whole thing up enough to go out for a morning. "Sometimes; usually for really important things. Otherwise, I just like to do it myself." 

When the makeup cooperated, anyway. What she wouldn't give to have the hand of a makeup artist here to fix her mistake.

"Oh," Harry sounded behind her, silence settling between them. 

Expecting him to leave then, (Y/N) refocused on her eye makeup only for Harry to linger in the doorway. He stood there in his too-pretty glory, watching her as she worked. She felt as if each of her moves were being dissected, analyzed and broken down as if there was a chance he would have to step in. She guessed that technically was his job, though she could argue there might be much better things for him to do rather than watch her blend eyeshadow and bobby pin her hair to perfection. 

Once she had her face applied, extra blush and fluffy lashes added in hopes of distracting from her most disastrous shadow look to date (at least that's how she felt in the moment, but she was sure there were photos off er teen years that would love to beg to differ) and hair styled down to the single strand, she was left with her short robe on and her outfit picked out in her closet. Harry's eyes had documented each of her moves, grazing along her skin and observing every stretch. 

Finding that gaze in the mirror, she looked at him with a mild expression. "I just need to get dressed then we can go." 

Harry blinked at her. "Okay." 

That was all he had to say before she was left to head to her room. 

—————

Stepping through the lobby of her complex, (Y/N) couldn't help but to scope out the street as much as she could through the tinted glass doors of the entrance. Waiting on the curb was the all black SUV she called with pedestrians scattered along the sidewalks and recklessly stepping onto the street. All she was looking for was anyone lingering a little too close to the building with too nice of cameras to be normal. 

She'd always been a little cautious leaving her building once the address to her complex had been leaked, paparazzi having camped out for a week afterwards in hopes of catching her off guard, though now that Harry was going to be stepping out with her another layer was added. She could already imagine the headlines and blog posts that would be made when others caught wind of the fact she was seen with a member of the opposite sex. 

Some of her favorites loved to recount her "relationship timeline" as well as call into question her "body count" and how long this new "beau" will last. She was dreading reading those words again; it was bad enough when she actually liked one of those people in those photos with her, but Harry's new job required his presence around her. He couldn't even leave this narrative if he wanted to. 

Staying focused, (Y/N) gave a wave to the doormen standing behind the front desk though their stony faces didn't sway. Harry was quiet at her side, allowing her to take the lead as she took them out onto the street, a blast of air hitting them once the seal of the doors was pushed open. Outside, no one paid her any mind, her driver being the only person that acknowledged her with a grin on his face. 

"Morning!" she chirped, feeling more relaxed now that he was nearby. 

"Morning, (Y/N)," he greeted, opening the backseat door with a flourish for her. His gaze only shifted for a moment to her companion, but she knew he was much too polite to ask for details about any of her guests. 

Setting one foot inside, (Y/N) hesitated as she looked around the SUV door to Sully. "Sully, this is Harry," she started, tossing her hand in Harry's direction, "He's my new bodyguard"—her tongue felt odd around the word—"Harry, this is Sully. He's my primary driver." 

Sully gave her a momentary look the second he heard the word bodyguard. Out of most people in her life, he knew her almost better than Francesca, so he knew just as well as she did that a security detail wasn't something (Y/N) was in need of. Nonetheless, he kept his polite smile on his face when addressing Harry. 

"Nice to meet you, Harry," he said, offering a gentle hand out to shake. 

"Nice to meet you," Harry said with a gruff anchor to his voice. 

That was all that was shared before (Y/N) stepped into the car, Harry following behind her. Though she was sure Sully felt the same way she did about the situation, he didn't let any of it show when he took his spot in the driver's seat, his eyes meeting hers through the rearview mirror. 

"The new place still, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, please," she answered, a soft smile on her face. 

As they started the drive through the city, skyscrapers towering on either side of the street and too many people on the sidewalks, (Y/N) pulled out her phone. Though she was aware of Harry's presence on the bench seat beside her only inches away, she ignored him in favor of pulling up Francesca's text thread in her messages. 

Fran🫧

      are u bringing your bodyguard????? 

      jk ofc you are he has to come w u everywhere lol is he still cute today tho or was the other day just bc you saw him for the first time???? 

As much as she loved Franny like a sister, she didn't really want to talk about Harry at the moment. She knew much of brunch was going to be spent talking about her new security or talking around him as all of the girls were going to be varying levels of nosy about it all. (Y/N) didn't have a lot of interest in starting that trend any earlier than needed. 

Instead, she began scrolling through her Instagram explore page full of photos of nail art and cooking videos she planned on looking up the recipes for later. Ever-polite, Sully was the one to break the silence that filled the cab of his vehicle. 

"How long will you be joining us, Harry?" he asked, kind blue eyes shining in the rearview mirror. 

Uninterested as ever, Harry didn't break his gaze from where he was observing through the window. "As long as it takes for her father to be convinced that she's finally grown up." 

It was a callous remark, but one (Y/N) had heard before just in a different voice. It was an interesting thing to hear those biting words lack the familiarity of her father's tone. She'd never heard them like that before. 

Flicking her gaze up from her phone, she spotted Sully in the mirror through the fan of her lashes. He gave her one of those soft smiles he'd also seen him give his daughter before. It made it a bit easier to let that remark slide off her back when she knew he was on her side. 

"Won't be very long then," Sully continued, tipping his chin up in confidence, "It doesn't take very long to see how kind and responsible Ms. (Y/N) is, despite what all those silly magazines like to say." 

(Y/N) directed a quiet smile down at her phone. She hoped Sully knew just how much she appreciated him. 

—————

"I'll be back around noon, okay?" Sully said, offering a helping hand to (Y/N) as she stepped out of the SUV and onto the grey concrete sidewalk, "Let me know if you need me sooner or want to stay longer." 

Nodding her head, she gave him a bubbly smile with soft lips and warm cheeks. "Thank you." 

"It's my pleasure," he answered, squeezing her hand in his as she steadied herself on the concrete.

With Harry at her side, Sully was sent off with a wave from her manicured fingers. 

Though it wasn't new to feel eyes on her at time when she was out, it was different to have someone following along with her. His job was to watch her, and he made it known with the way she could feel his gaze stitched to her. He only drifted when he made a point to take in their surroundings. 

Was he even supposed to sit with them? Was he going to eat beside her? What was his job when it came to events like this? 

(Y/N) tried to think back to what Francesca's bodyguard would do, but she couldn't remember him ever joining them for a meal in public. Barry was typically meant to watch over Fran when no one else was around, leaving those group settings without him. Was Harry to do the same? Was he going to sit elsewhere or guard their table like a circling vulture? 

Her head hurt just thinking about it. Harry would do whatever he decided to do, she settled on. This wasn't his first security job, so hopefully he would do whatever he was used to with Camila and Monroe. 

Harry pushed the entrance door open for her, taking her by surprise as she stepped into the trendiest brunch spot in the city at the moment. Everything was sleek and warm, glass with golden hinges, wood pieces with uniform swirls and knots. Inauthentic authenticity. Falling into character, a bright smile landed on (Y/N)'s lips, her phone clutched in one hand with her purse hanging from the crook of her elbow. The clack of her heels was drowned out by the sound of chattering patrons and a busy kitchen. 

"Hello, how are you?" The young man stationed at the host stand greeted her, a dark denim uniform adorning his form. (Y/N) almost cringed for him; she couldn't imagine how hot it must be to work all day in a heavy outfit like that. 

"Hi, I'm good thank you," she greeted, feeling Harry just behind her as if he were breathing down her neck. How would he analyze this conversation? "I'm here to meet a few friends—there should be a reservation under—" 

Cutting her off, the boy piped up with, "Francesca, right? She and a few others just got here." 

Now that she wasn't so distracted by his outfit, she could see recognition in his gaze. He knew who she was and was definitely peeking over her shoulder to see who her companion was. 

"That's them," (Y/N) chirped, canting her head as the boy tapped away at the computer in front of him. 

"Perfect," he beamed, glancing up nonchalantly at them, "And will he be taking the sixth seat at the table?" 

A clear attempt to fish, but not one (Y/N) was going to be able to ignore. "Yes, please." 

The way the boy's eyes brightened had (Y/N) already dreading the articles that she would be tagged in across every social media platform, the headlines teasing about her new "mystery man" with all of the sources being an anonymous instagram account known for spreading gossip. Because that's journalism. 

"Follow me," he said, waving his hand as he stepped out from behind the podium.

Harry was a ghost behind her as (Y/N) made small talk with the host, answering with polite chatter about the weather while being led through the restaurant. Through the crowded tables, Francesca and the three other girls they frequently went out with came into view. Glasses of bubbling mimosas and an appetizer of cheese and crackers adorned the table, matching that of the rest of the patrons indulging in the brunch rush. 

Francesca was the first to spot them once the host dropped them off with a quiet wish for she and Harry to enjoy their food before he was off again. Fran's eyes lit up when she saw her, only for them to widen that much more when Harry came into view behind her. 

"(Y/N)," she cheered, gaining the attention of the other girls who broke their absent chatter to turn to face them. Fran no doubt had told them that (Y/N) would be bringing a guest. 

"Hi," she smiled, maneuvering around the table to the two empty seats between Emma and Rita, "Sorry I'm late. My makeup was not doing its job this morning." 

Emma piped up then, "No worries, honey! We're just happy you could make it. We already ordered a mimosa for you and some appetizers and all." 

Despite the girls seemingly talking to her, their eyes continuously drifted to her companion that ghosted behind her. Pulling out her chair, (Y/N) dropped her purse on the table before looking across from her to where Francesca was sat. Even she was pretending as if she wasn't bubbling in anticipation over Harry. 

"Thanks, guys," she said, taking her seat with Harry doing the same beside her, "Everyone, this is Harry. I bet Fran already told you a little bit, but he's going to be my personal security for the next few months or so. We're still trying to figure out how this all works for it, so thanks for letting him tag along today." 

"Of course," Kita giggled, leaning with her elbow on the table, "Fran did tell us that you were bringing someone special today." 

"Right," (Y/N) laughed, feeling slightly exposed despite the fact none of the girls were even looking at her. "I promised him we'd be on our best behavior today, so don't ruin this for me." 

The laughter that bubbled around the table was just a touch too melodious, too airy and light. Francesca even made eyes at (Y/N); she approved of him, that much was obvious. 

"I'm sure we'll still have fun with him," Toriana said, her spot right across from Harry making it easy for her to reach across and offer her hand up in greeting, "I'm Toriana, but the girls just call me Ana." 

"Nice to meet you," Harry answered, taking her hand into his in that same firm grip (Y/N) remembered. 

A domino effect started then, each of the girls taking the time to personally introduce themselves. Toriana and Kita were more than a little interested in him, asking questions right off the bat that (Y/N) wished they would keep to themselves. Franny and Emma seemed to prefer to watch, piping in at moments with their own bubbly comments or peals of laughter. Harry, reserved as ever, barely interacted. 

(Y/N) didn't know why she liked that as much as she did. Maybe it was just nice knowing she wasn't the only person he was cold with. Even if he did still end up talking to the girls more than he had all weekend with her. 

Soon enough—long enough still that (Y/N) sipped through a glass and a half of water, the cheese plate had dissipated to crumbs, and breakfast orders had been placed—the shine of Harry had finally been lost on the girls. The shorter his answers became the clearer the message that he wasn't interested in sharing became. Though Kita didn't pull too far away from him and Fran had eyes on him every few moments, there wasn't much fun in talking to a wall. 

The gossip shifted around the table, new topics being introduced as wait staff appeared to refill drained mimosa glasses. (Y/N) was seventy percent sure she saw one of the denim-clad employees pull her phone out and snap a shot of the table while clearing their small appetizer plates. No one seemed to notice the girl other than she and Harry, his eyes narrowing when he caught sight of the camera tilted in their direction. She wouldn't be surprised if the photo captured Harry's harsh gaze. 

Ignoring the snooping employee, (Y/N) tried to tune into the story Emma was sharing that had the rest of the table enraptured. As funny and kind as Emma was, she loved to gossip; she loved knowing things, even if the information had nothing to do with her. More often than not (Y/N) preferred to check out of her particularly scandalous stories, just because she knew what it was like to be the name coming off of other's lips in a spit. Francesca was the same, preferring to stay out of it all.

But, this story caught both of their attention for all the wrong reasons. 

"Then, I heard that Christal's parents are separating, because her dad also cheated with one of Christal's friends that got an internship at his company," Emma chattered, dipping her chin as if she was actually trying to keep this information a secret for only the table to hear. 

Toriana gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth with wide eyes. Leaning over the table, she conspired with Emma in a hushed tone that was far from being any level of quiet, "I heard they were separating because her mom was paying off her doctor to write prescriptions for, like, everything. Her dad is so over it, so he's supposed to be filing officially next week." 

The mention of prescriptions and doctors who didn't care to help anymore stung at (Y/N) behind her walls. It was bad enough speaking about Christal and her family dynamics when they barely knew her outside of nights partying in the Upper West Side, but those kinds of rumors weren't something (Y/N) could ever imagine repeating. Drug use and the breaking up of a marriage—no matter the reason—were things none of them should be discussing when they had no idea what was truly going on. 

It made (Y/N) think of her own parents and the years of swirling tabloids trying to figure out just how long her parents were on the rocks and what exactly had gone wrong. It was more than invasive. 

(Y/N)'s nails quietly tapped on the table as the attention was placed on her, her voice piping up once Emma finally paused for a breath, "We probably shouldn't be talking about this stuff, guys." 

Emma was the first to turn to her with a slighted look on her face, surprised to have anyone stopping her in the middle of her speculations. The remaining pairs of eyes turned to her, Francesca the only one that seemed to match her protesting while Kita and Toriana were just as taken aback as Emma. 

Saved by the bell, their waitress chose then to appear with trays of their food in her arms. Bowls of salads and plates of eggs were distributed amongst the girls, Harry's order being of avocado toast though she couldn't imagine him picking off more than a couple of bites with the way he was so focused on the scene around him. The women had settled while they were being waited on, beaming smiles and assurances that everything was perfect, they would love a refill, and whatever chattering small talk was started by the waitress in the meantime. 

It wasn't until everything had been cleared away, a plate of eggs Benedict with a kale apple salad off to the side in front of (Y/N), that Emma turned to face her once more. 

Now she was less shocked and more bewildered that (Y/N) had tried to end her conversation. "Don't you want to know what happened though, (Y/N)?" she asked, incredulous, "Her parents always seemed so obsessed with each other, doesn't that make you want to know even more?" 

"Sure," (Y/N) started, "But, it's a little too personal, don't you think? Especially if any of this is true, it's all probably really hard on Christal. I don't think it's fair to talk about it when we don't know anything about it, and she's not even here." 

That expression of furrowed brows and parted lips didn't leave Emma's face as (Y/N) spoke. "I mean I guess, but—" 

Before she could get much further, (Y/N) couldn't help but to step in. "Honestly, I'd rather hear about you and your fashion designer," (Y/N) started, leaning towards Emma with a conspiratorial smile on her face, "You haven't brought him up at all, even though you've posted him on your story at least five times now." 

Watching her friends' features light up told her just how effective her new topic was. There was nothing—not even hot gossip—Emma loved talking about more than herself. 

"You mean Stavros? What could you ever want to know about him?" Emma bubbled, acting coy with a lift of her shoulder and flutter of her lashes. 

"Stavros?! You never told me that was his name!" Kita chimed in, filling in where (Y/N) had left off. 

All it took was Emma starting with a Well... to get the table submitting again to conversation full of bubbling giggles and blushing cheeks, teases of Stavros's name and Emma's story telling about their time together so far. Even Francesca, after shooting (Y/N) a small smile, became invested in the chronicle of Emma's love life. 

Falling into silence, satisfied at the reroute of the conversation, (Y/N) finally tried the food in front of her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry observing her with calculating eyes, a pinch in his brow.

Suddenly, she felt more exposed than when dozens of cameras were posed in her direction. Was she not supposed to interfere like that? Was this new topic somehow equal to the one Emma had initially embarked on? 

Honestly, (Y/N) had almost forgotten about Harry's presence when she stepped in and redirected Emma into safer territory, but now she was wondering if she would have benefited more from keeping her mouth shut. Who knew what he would report back to her father with; how he would spin these events.

"(Y/N), don't you know his cousin? That Ferrill girl we met in Milan?" Francesca's voice chirping out her name had (Y/N) dropping back into the conversation, grateful for a distraction from what she was overthinking in her mind. 

"Oh, yeah, Ferrill! She's Stavros's cousin?..." 

—————

"You really have to go home?" 

Kita's over-pouted lips and pleading pulled a laugh out of (Y/N) as she pulled her into a hug. 

"I know, I'm sorry," she started, reciprocating her friend's hold, "You know I'd love to go with you guys if I could, but I already promised I'd call my stylist later today."

"I know," Kita whined, pulling away with her hug still around (Y/N)'s middle, "I just feel like you barely talked this morning, and I miss you."

 Despite being around them and having spent the better part of two hours with these girls, (Y/N) missed them too. Kita wasn't wrong in that she barely talked for the morning, Harry being a constant, extra fine sifter that filtered her thoughts before she even had them ready to go. It was hard to talk as freely when she knew he was analyzing every single syllable on her lips. 

"I'm sorry," (Y/N) pouted, playing along, "But, I'm sure I'll see you again soon. And, if you want, you can FaceTime me later so I can see what you got." 

Kita seemed satisfied with that answer, pulling (Y/N) in for another hug before joining the rest of the women who were beckoning to join them as they started down the sidewalk. Hugs and goodbyes had already been shared amongst the rest of them, Francesca promising to text her before she even had a chance to make it home. 

With a final wave from the three of them and calls of "Bye, Harry!", (Y/N) was left by Sully's car with an extra shadow. 

The truth was, she couldn't imagine trekking down Fifth Ave with Harry following behind her. It was uncomfortable enough to have him sit and eat with her, even more so thinking about him watching as she chattered with her friends and tried on different pieces of clothing. 

"Ready to head home?" Sully asked, hand poised on the handle of the back passenger seat for her. 

"Yes, please," she sighed, eagerly stepping in when he pulled open the door for her.

Following behind her, Harry settled in beside her in the back seat, the faux-leather soft under their weight. Sully smoothly integrated himself within the New York traffic, maneuvering around in ways that made (Y/N) that much more grateful that she wasn't the one in charge. 

Decompressing, her eyes fluttered closed with her shoulders untensing. It wasn't until now that she realized just how tightly she had been wound during the meal. No wonder she could feel the beginning band of an ache forming in her head. 

Breaking the static silence in the cab, Harry asked, "Is it always like that?" 

"Like what?" (Y/N) pressed, brows knitting together in the middle though her eyelids didn't flutter. 

She could hear the sound of him shifting against the leather. "Like, everything going on at once?" 

"A little," (Y/N) admitted, the words leaving on a breathing laugh, "This was on the tamer side. Usually, Toriana will try to debate everyone into agreeing to get a mimosa tower for the table—that's when things start happening all at once." 

A beat passed, (Y/N) assuming he was fine with the stopping point of the conversation until he spoke again. 

"Y'didn't drink today." 

Though it was less of a question and more of a statement, she still answered with, "No." 

"Why not?" 

Shrugging, her clothing shuffled against the faux-leather. "I don't really like drinking this early—it makes me too tired, so I don't usually do it." 

Despite the fact she didn't hear his voice again, (Y/N) could feel Harry's eyes on her through the remaining drive to her apartment.

—————

Laid flat on her back on her bed, (Y/N) raised her hand to look at the time on her phone once more. The closer the clock numbers to ten a.m., the more she wanted to curl up in her sheets. 

Dressed in her pastel pink workout set with her hair braided back and tennis shoes on her feet, (Y/N) was more than ready to head to her pilates class. She wanted to luxuriate in her poses and breathing, get a smoothie afterwards as her cooldown, and live her normal routine. The only problem was Harry. 

Though she loathed to admit it, she knew he was supposed to accompany her. Even if he wasn't policing her at home, she knew there were no exceptions to the rule of him going with her throughout her day should she chose to go out and about. That was the whole point of his job. 

She wanted to do as Francesca had told her—that she still needed to live her life even if it was with an extra shadow—, but, even with the fact that the Sunday brunch had gone well enough, taking Harry to her pilates class was completely different. She lacked friends in her class anyway, and this wouldn't make it any better. Most of the women already judged her enough, adding Harry into the mix wasn't going to help her case in not looking as pretentious and spoiled like they thought. 

Maybe, she could get away with only sending him a text? It wasn't as if she were going to an event or a high-profile dinner. Maybe her dad wouldn't care, leaving Harry to not care either. There wasn't much trouble she could get into while controlling her breathing and wiping sweat off the back of her neck, anyway. 

Looking at the time once more, she saw the minutes click that much closer to the start time for her usual session. Her chest rose as she pulled in a deep breath. 

If she wanted to get there on time and get a good spot, she was going to have to text Harry and move on. Sully was on the way anyway, she had to make her choice now before she had to cancel the car and instead curl up in bed just like she had been for three days since brunch. 

The sound of (Y/N)'s nails tapping at her phone screen filled her room as she made to sit up amongst the folds in her duvet.

     morning, harry! just wanted to let you know that im headed to my pilates class right now. it should end around 11 and i'll probably grab a smoothie after, so i'll be on my way back to my apartment after that. lmk if you need anything like to get into my apartment or anything like that before im home ! 

As soon as she pressed send with the blue bubble inflating against the dark background, she locked her phone. She couldn't overthink this whole thing anymore. She had plans she needed to stick to if she wanted to stay normal. 

The notification that Sully was downstairs waiting for her couldn't have come soon enough, not when she finished packing her things much too quickly. 

"No Harry?" Sully asked once she was secure in the back seat, the morning sun shining on the grimy streets of the city. 

Avoiding his gaze in the rearview mirror, (Y/N) shook her head. "Not today." 

—————

Buzz-buzz.

(Y/N) cinched her eyes closed tighter at the sound of a phone vibrating deep in someone's bag. her breathing came in even waves, chest rising and falling in even measures. 

Buzz-buzz.

One of the other students faltered on their breathing, the teacher pausing just a second too long in-between instructions as everyone heard the incessant noise.

"Now, take a breath and stretch into your high plank," the morning's instructor directed, voice calm in the middle of the studio, "Keep the height to your comfort, no reason to strain past a slight burn." 

Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) listened with her hands planted solidly on the mat under her. Her back stretched slowly, legs keeping her steady as she fell back into the rhythm of the session.

Until another round of buzzing started, this string clearly from a phone call that was going to be ignored. 

The strength in her core faltered with her eyes cinched to a tight close at the sound.

(Y/N) knew good and well that it was her phone that was going crazy at the bottom of her bag, but there was no way she was going to make that obvious to anyone else in the class. She was sure a good chunk of them already assumed it was her anyway, but that didn't mean she had to admit to it. 

Instead, she kept up with the poses and the directions given, ignoring the device as best as she could. She was going to enjoy this class as much as she could before she would be forced to renter her reality.

She already knew what kind of notifications were waiting for her, anyway. Either Francesca and the girls randomly decided to start up another group chat, or Harry wasn't pleased with her decision to head out for the day with nothing more than a text sent his way. Either way, (Y/N) didn't want to deal with either of those things at the moment. 

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but would the owner of the phone that keeps going off, please, either silence or turn off your phone for the remainder of the class? I'm sure the class would appreciate the chance to keep their focus without any more interruptions." 

Despite her tone of voice being respectful and calm as ever, (Y/N) knew the instructor was pissed. No matter how well-paying her clients were, there was no way she could keep standing for disruptions like this. Blinking her eyes open, she saw the rest of the class on the same level as their instructor: just as annoyed but feigning calmness as if the last half hour hadn't been spent ignoring phone call after phone call with text messages in between. 

She couldn't get up now, (Y/N) thought. Not when everyone was waiting to see who the culprit was so they could shoot daggers with their gaze. She could only imagine what the post-class powwow of complaints would sound like. 

(Y/N) cringed when her phone went off once more, the device rattling against a tube of lipgloss to make it that much lounger. 

Fuck. This was worse than waking up and seeing drunken photos of her posted. At least then she didn't have a dozen other people staring at her in the process. 

When her phone went off once more in what she hoped was a reminder notification and not another set of messages coming through, (Y/N) couldn't take it anymore. She had to fix this if she wanted to at least be welcomed back. 

Just as she went to break her pose, a clatter could be heard on the other side of the door. Muffled voices broke through the curated tranquility of the studio, sounding more and more aggravated as they drew closer to the room she was in. The doorknob twisted, resistance found on the other side when a clear "Sir!" was called through. 

A beat later, that resistance was broken, Harry barreling through the door. With a furrow pinching his brow and a blaze in his eyes, he looked just as bitter and grumpy as a stereotypical bouncer and not the seasoned security detail he was. His usual uniform of all black was crumpled and creased with his hair a mess on the top of his head. 

"Sir, there is a class in session!" A voice (Y/N) recognized from the front desk of the studio burst in behind him. Harry didn't flinch back for even a second. 

The second his gaze landed on her, his jaw hardened. "(Y/N)," he gritted out her name, "Come here, now." 

Having crumbled from her pose to sit with her legs folded underneath her, (Y/N) felt stuck where she sat. She could practically spot steam coming from the top of Harry's head. Her skin heated when she felt others' eyes land on her. 

This was definitely much, much worse than if she had just answered her phone. 

"Harry," she started, unsure of what exactly she was going to say but feeling as if she needed to say something anyway. 

His nose flared. "Sully is waiting outside. Let's go." 

There was a finality in her tone that had her scrambling to collect her things as soon as possible. The room was silent as she messily rolled her mat and clumsily stepped into her shoes. 

A mumbled thank you was offered to the silent instructor as she passed, a matching apology being told to the class though she was sure both sentiments fell on deaf ears. (Y/N) was definitely going to have to switch studios again. 

She wasn't surprised to see the rest of the studio having fallen in line, patrons and classes quiet and paused after the ruckus caused on her behalf. (Y/N) could only imagine the photos others snapped of her following after Harry like a puppy with her tail between her legs. She already knew what this was going to look like—the loud scene as well as following after Harry the way she was. 

Sully didn't say anything when (Y/N) quickly slipped into the backseat, Harry coming after with a loud slam of the door behind. 

The interior was almost humid with the way Harry fumed beside her, his arms a tight cross over his chest and his jaw anchored closed. From the corner of her eye, she could see the way his fingers were curled into fists under the shelter of his arms. 

(Y/N) felt silly to be sitting there with her cardigan and leggings, hands in her lap like a reprimanded child. 

The silence stretched on as Sully pulled away from the curb, routing directly back to her apartment without question. 

It wasn't until there was a stop in the traffic that any of them dared to speak a single word. Of course, it was Harry.

"I don't know what you were thinking this morning," he started, voice deceptively calm, "But, you almost cost me my job with that stunt." 

Staying quiet, she didn't know what to say. Honestly, she hadn't really thought about it like that when she left without him this morning. She had only been considering the pit in her stomach and how much she hadn't wanted to disrupt her own life. She acted just as selfish as she was sure Harry thought her to be at her core. 

From the corner of her eye, she could see the way Harry's gaze on her profile sharpened. She kept her eyes on her hands. 

"I thought we had a good understanding after this weekend, but I think I need to make a few things especially clear for you," he started, (Y/N) finally chancing a look at him. Harry's gaze steeled when she matched him. "When I was given this job, I was told to go with you everywhere, and 'm sure you were told the same thing. I don't care if you think your fathers's company, or the 'public' or whoever you think is my client, because that is not the truth. You are my client, and if you make trouble like this again, I will lose my job. Because of you." 

(Y/N) had never been reprimanded like this before, not as fat as she could remember. Her father's scoldings had never been this effective, even when she was young enough to still care what he had to say. 

Her throat was dry as she piped up, hoping to explain herself, "It was just my pilates class. I didn't think it would be a big deal." 

That seemed to be the very worst thing she could have said with the way Harry's shoulders tensed with hot air with his jaw quirked. His eye contact was unwavering as he glared at her. 

"I knew I was going to have to babysit you, but I didn't think it would be this much of a problem. Going forward, I do not care where you are going, I am going with you. I know you don't want me here, so the quicker you follow this and get over whatever princess complex you have after getting everything handed to you, the quicker we'll both be free of this contract. Please keep that in mind the next time you decide to go off with just a text." 

Harry's tone was harsh and grating, flaming hot underneath the calm facade he was just well-versed with as her own bubbly princess role. He could rival her father in just how much disdain he held for her. 

She couldn't blame his perception of her, really. With the way both her father and the media spoke of her, she could only imagine the kind of person she looked to be in his eyes. 

Nonetheless, (Y/N) could still feel that sting of hurt. 

But, he was right. Now, she knew where they stood. Now, she could try harder to get over her princess complex and show her father she didn't need a ghost and everything could go back to normal. 

If she tried hard enough, she could hopefully still make it to spend the winter in Francesca's family's Swiss cabin free of an extra shadow. That was a goal she could work towards this summer. 

"I understand," she told him, checking out of the conversation now that she had her own plan working in the background, her own terms to follow, "I'm sorry I put you in that position. I didn't mean anything by it, I just didn't think it was the kind of thing to bother you over." 

Deflating some, Harry blinked, his gaze falling down her features. "Okay," he settled, golden flecks swimming in his irises, "Now, we're both on the same page." 

(Y/N) quietly agreed with a small nod. 

The rest of the car ride was silent.

—————

Without a second thought, (Y/N) stowed the newest heavy, photo-laden envelope into her drawer of the others. She already knew what kind of pictures would be inside and the kind of story her admirer had spun in her honor. It would be the same photos that had been distributed by the same anonymous Instagram blog that always posted them along with the same story that all the tabloids picked up the next day. 

According to the internet as well as a few gullible publications, (Y/N) had shown up drunk to her class and Harry had come to collect her. Harry was also no longer her mystery man, and now her affair partner that she had cheated on Damien Moore with. Damien was also reportedly very hurt to be seeing her with Harry after everything that had gone down. Broken-hearted by the ice queen, one publication had been so bold to claim. Blurry photos accompanied the articles and tweets, with her looking to Harry with watery eyes ("alcohol-glazed") like a reprimanded child as she followed him out. 

Her admirer had no doubt clung to the claims that she was in a romantic relationship, their own version of events meandering around it all to erase the legitimacy of the claims along with photos of her back at her apartment without him to solidify their theory. While they would be right this time, that she and Harry were not linked in any way but professional, it still didn't make her feel very safe knowing they had gone to the length they did to verify as much as well as send a letter to prove it all. 

It'd been days since the incident and one day since the news hit the circuits, and (Y/N) was more than comfortable hiding out at her apartment to ensure she wouldn't have to deal with anyone, including Harry, until her nail appointment on Thursday. The whole thing was more than stupid, full of baseless claims and low-quality photos. It didn't deserve her attention. 

The only thing that had truly caught her off guard, was the lack of phone calls from her father. A full day had passed with the story being tweeted and mocked, and yet there was no scathing text message or berating call sent to her phone. This was just the type of story that would have him up in arms and fuming all throughout the mansion. The longer it didn't come, the more she felt on edge. 

Her father was built on being predictable, so when he deviated from the norm she couldn't help but to fear the worst. 

Ignoring it all for the time being, (Y/N) returned to her kitchen eager to take her mind off things in the form of trying out one of her stored up recipes. 

While she didn't usually have the chance to share it with others, cooking was one of (Y/N)'s favorite pastimes—a therapeutic hobby. She liked putting flavors together and the technique that went into making everything just the way she liked it. There was structure to it all—even the bendable rules gave her guidelines. 

Especially when she was attending her private school and spending her time in dorms and weekends alone at her parents' home, food was the one thing she could control that gave her a routine. She liked making cute meals and lunches for her friends at school and taking advantage of the illustrious pantry and fridge she had at home. It was easy to nurture her love for it when there was no other outlet open for her feelings. 

While there was nothing special she could imagine herself doing with her passion like she was sure that her father would have wanted, it didn't cheapen the love for her at all. It was the easiest way to fill herself with love even when she felt as if everything around her was hateful. 

Turning her phone to silent, (Y/N) happily turned on a rerun of her favorite cooking competition show, and started on her own meal. 

—————

élan is a French word that describes the sense of a movement coming; the grace with which time moves towards the next chapter

eeeek! thank u sm for reading! sorry for any mistakes and please lmk if theres any fun ideas or thoughts you have!

[luffysinterlude]

★ LATE NIGHT CONVERSATIONS. . .

summary: in which zoro convinces you to see yourself from his point of view.

warnings: named fem!reader/oc, reader has suicidal thoughts (not too explicit, yet not very subtle), cursing, zoro may be ooc, angst/comfort

word count: 2K+ // slightly edited

an (1): this fic started when i got drunk and wanted to read angst. i revised it so many times and i’m still somewhat unsatisfied (hence the rushed ending) but i really love this oc i created and hope i get to write about her more :3 been feeling a lil sad bc i turned 21 and i’m still somewhat stuck in my life and uuuugh. just need zoro so bad..anyway…I’ll probably do an oc introduction next :p

ZORO thinks you’re the prettiest person in existence. He wishes he could give you his eyes so you could see yourself from his point of view. He watches you as you sit next to Robin: a blanket wrapped around your body, your head leaning on her shoulder as you listen to the conversation she’s having with Franky.

Tonight, something’s different. You don’t have the usual gleam in your eye nor does your laugh echo throughout the Sunny. Instead, your eyes are red and swollen, and you’re quieter than usual — only speaking when you’re spoken to. Your eyes meet Zoro’s for a split second, and understanding flashes in his gaze as he realizes why you’ve been so distant.

You ignore the swordsman’s curious eye, trying to be more interested in the conversation Robin and Franky are having; something about poneglyphs, but you wouldn’t be too sure because your thoughts are louder than their voices, making it hard to focus.

Tonight, everything hits you at once: your past, the present, and the what-ifs. The future remains a distant concept, with its many possible outcomes holding you back.

You think these thoughts that cloud your brain are nothing but selfish. A burning desire of yours is to quietly slip away and let your soul be free from this body and place.

You love the Straw Hats, your captain, and your crewmates. You love the sea and exploring new islands. With every stop, you hope to learn something new to distract yourself from the small part of you that wishes you weren't alive.

But every now and then, it hits you. And you feel like you’re nothing but a waste of space.

Before you realize it, Zoro’s standing next to you, offering his hand. You know the blend of sympathy, disappointment, and sadness on his face. With a deep breath and a small smile to the rest of the crew, you accept it, allowing him to pull your body up and lead you down the corridor.

+x+

Roronoa Zoro, pirate hunter turned pirate, was someone you held close to your heart. He was your closest friend, your anchor in times of darkness, and your lover.

He took care of you, even in your absence; he told you that you look out for everyone else that you tend to forget to take care of yourself.

When the crew split up and you had decided to go to Whole Cake Island, Zoro made sure Franky had sent you off with two transponder snails so he could check in on you. He’s still unsure of what happened on the island of sweets, but after your reunion with the rest of the crew he’s noticed the light in your eye had become darker.

He leads you to his room, opening the door for you and placing his swords by the entrance. You take a seat on his bed, a change from your usual behavior of lying down. Your thoughts crowd your mind again as the atmosphere around you grows quieter.

You’re not doing enough. Luffy doesn’t need you, nor do the others; you believe you’re just extra weight they carry because you’re his sister.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You feel the mattress dip as Zoro occupies the space next to you, his body radiating warmth your way. He’s laying down, arms rested behind his head, eyes closed. You stare at the man next to you, taking in his form; despite the number of times he’s smiled in the face of death, scars and stitches scattering his body, you still think he’s the most handsome man on this earth.

“Just been…thinking,” you start. “About everything that’s happened up until now.”

Zoro hums to let you know that he’s listening, a cue for you to continue.

“Nobody on the crew knows this, not even Luffy, but I was there at Marineford.”

This makes Zoro’s eye shoot open, a look of surprise painting his face. As bad as it sounds, he isn’t too interested in learning about where the crew spent the last two years, he’s just glad they all made it back together alive. He knows that you spent time mastering your Haki with your childhood teacher, but that’s all you’ve let the crew know about.

“Grandpa snuck me in disguised as a marine — I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone if I was able to leave quietly. I wanted to see Ace one last time, and he granted me that because he owed me one for keeping an eye on Luffy when we were younger.

I was able to visit his holding cell, and the sight of him…it felt as if I was being punished. Ace was the one person who understood me and how I tend to feel, the one person I shared so much in common with. He was able to find bits and pieces of himself again thanks to the light that shines through Luffy, and when he left us I promised that I’d try and keep him safe despite the distance between us, and hopefully find myself through our crybaby brother as well.”

You’re smiling fondly at the distant memories of you and your brothers, ones that you wished were photographed so you could have physical proof of those events taking place; so even when you’re old and senile you’ll be able to remember them happening.

“Tell me more,” Zoro says. He eyes the spot next to him, and you position yourself to lay there. He allows you to remove his left arm from behind his head to use as a pillow. “Were you safe, at least?”

Of course not. You were infiltrating the World Government, and if you made a tiny mistake, you would’ve been right next to Ace on the execution platform.

“I was — you know I wouldn’t do anything impulsively, unlike some people.” You giggle, remembering the moment Luffy fell from the sky, in the middle of the battlefield. “I ended up being able to sneak away because of him. I found Trafalgar’s submarine and hopped on board and waited…and I can’t help but think that was my biggest mistake, leaving Luffy alone. It’s a heavy guilt that I’ve been carrying.”

Zoro ponders for a moment; it isn’t your weight to carry, he wants to say. Luffy went to Marineford on his own accord, and not every ending is a happy one. He’s also curious about how you were able to find the surgeon and his crew, but that’s something he’ll ask about another time.

“And when I felt Shanks’ presence nearby, I asked Law to take me to his ship — which he declined, of course — so I got off and swam there instead. The waters were surprisingly calm, so don’t panic, I’m sure Jinbe wouldn’t have let me get eaten up,” you confess to him, reassuring him that you were safe every step of the way.

You stare at the left side of his face, your arms wrapped around his body as if he was a teddy bear. The blanket you had previously wrapped around your body now covered parts of his, his arm cuddling you close as if you’d ever slip away.

“How’d it go with the redhead?” Zoro asks. His eyes are still closed but you know he’s interested in knowing; asking questions is somewhat his way of begging to know more. He isn’t as stoic as he thinks he is, at least not towards you.

“It was good seeing Shanks again. He was heading to Marineford to end the war, and allowed me to stay and hide with him until Luffy made the decision to reunite in two years. He’s actually the one who took me to my childhood teacher; it took about three weeks after burying Ace and Whitebeard to get there.”

Zoro’s curious about how you handled Ace’s burial, but again, that’s something he’ll ask about another time.

“They asked about us. It was different being the one to share experiences about life on the sea; but it was refreshing and fun…I told them all about the crazy stuff we went through, and they let me know about the reputation we’ve built for ourselves. It’s actually kind of cool how many people know of us, but also scary at the same time. It really opened my eyes though; it was probably the first time in a long time that I…” you trail off, repositioning your head to be more comfortable, the hand that lay on Zoro’s chest now tracing lines as you daze off. Sensing that he’s lost you, he opens his eye and nudges you lightly.

“I felt like I had a life purpose again. Gaining the knowledge that a lot of people had their eyes set on us as a team, it made me realize the responsibility I hold. The promises I made to both Ace and Sabo, the ones I made to you and the rest of us, and the promise I made to myself as a child — my ultimate dream: to live a long, fulfilled life.”

“Even though I felt great and motivated after that and even now, the thoughts still linger around. The what-ifs: what if I stayed and attempted to save Ace alongside Luffy? What if I got caught by the Marines? What if the five of you never found me in Loguetown?

It’s a never-ending battle, and I’m getting more tired of myself with every passing day. It’s the reason why even now I exhaust myself mentally and physically, just to escape my thoughts. I guess there must be something happening with the planets for me to experience these feelings right now,” your tone is light, almost playful, yet your words place a heavy weight on him.

You let out a sharp sigh, suddenly turning on your back and staring at the wooden ceiling. You release your Haki to see what the rest of the crew is up to, noticing that some of them have already gone to bed. The only other people awake at the moment are Luffy, Sanji, and Jinbe — sharing a late night snack and a hushed conversation.

“You’re stronger and more resilient than you think,” Zoro states. “As a matter of fact, you’re probably the strongest person I know, both physically and mentally.

You’ve faced nothing but obstacles your entire life, and it makes me wish I had known you when we were younger. You and Kuina would’ve been great friends.” The mention of your lover’s childhood friend makes you smile. He’s only ever confided in you about his upbringing, and you pray to the heavens, hoping that Kuina herself hears you ask for his protection. “I admire you so much.”

And it’s true: Zoro envies how strong you are. He wishes he had unlocked Haki at a young age. He wishes he was as smart as you. There are so many things Zoro admires about you, and he wishes he knew the words to voice it.

“I’m not great with words.” You giggle at his self-awareness but let the laughter die down as he rolls his eye playfully. “But you deserve to be here — alive — regardless of where you came from, what powers and knowledge you possess, and what happened when you were a child. I’ve watched you grow into the person you are today, and it’s been a privilege.

Sometimes, it feels as if I was a saint in my past life to experience this: the open ocean, the different people and places, and you. However you see yourself isn’t how anyone else views you. Chopper looks up to you as a guardian — and despite the small age difference, I’m sure our knucklehead captain does too. Nami, Robin, Usopp, and Franky see you as their sister. I’m sure I heard Jinbe speaking of you like a daughter, and as for the annoying waiter we call a cook, he practically worships the ground you walk on. The skeleton praised you constantly, so I’m not sure how you don’t see the admiration everyone has for you.

You’ve become one of my biggest inspirations. I’ll probably never be in the mood to admit this again, so make sure you’re listening.” He suddenly sits up and rests against the headboard, your movements copying his as he interlocks your hands with his.

He meets your gaze, and you feel like you fall in love with him all over again. He’s looking at you with pure adoration, as if he’s trying to engrave your face into his memory.

Even with tear stains running down your cheeks and puffy eyes, you’re still the prettiest person to exist. Everything about you is perfect, and a demon like me doesn’t even deserve to be in your presence, Zoro thinks.

“The time we spent apart, I took some time to think about our adventures as a crew. I’m not sure if I subconsciously did it because it was a strange feeling being away from you all, or if it was because Perona kept asking too many questions.

After explaining how the ten of us all became a crew, she pointed out that I mentioned you a lot. I didn’t think so at the time, but I guess it’s just something that feels natural to me. What I’m trying to say is…

“I love you. You know this already, but I know sometimes it feels nice to have a verbal reminder. I’m in love with you, and I know I’ll always be. And I’ll help you fight your battles, even when you ask me to give you space. I’ll do anything you want me to, just promise me you’ll let me be there for you. You — in such a short amount of time — have become my greatest weakness.

It hurts when you push yourself away from everyone else, especially me. I know you don’t want to feel like a burden, but you’ll never be one; to me, or the others. Especially to Luffy. Whether you decide to tell him you were there to see Ace, is up to you. I’m positive he won’t react the way you think he would. You’ve always taken on way more than what we ask of you, and applying more pressure to yourself isn’t going to make us look at you any differently. You’re appreciated for all that you do, and will always be.

The only thing I’m asking of you is to take the time and make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Physical battles already take a toll on all of us, and we can always help each other out, but the mental ones we face can only be taken on by ourselves. Even I find it hard to deal with it. But then I’m grounded by remembering the fact that I was put here on this Earth for a reason — everyone was.”

Your jaw is hung open at Zoro’s words; yes, he saves sweet talk for you and you only, but this was an entirely different and unexpected side of him.

You want to cry. You want to kiss him. You want to take all of his pain away and give it to the officials in the World Government. You want to cradle his face in your chest and kiss his cheeks and tell him sweet nothings; yet as you process his words, you sit there in silence.

I’m grounded by remembering the fact that I was put here on this Earth for a reason — everyone was.

Similar to the last words spoken to you by your beloved brother Ace, you feel tears slip out of your eyes and suddenly you’re trapping Zoro in your arms.

“Thank you, Zo.”

The whisper reaches him, and he relaxes comfortably in your embrace. He buries his head in the crook of your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your torso. Even though it took a lot of guts to be that vulnerable, his chest feels lighter. With a soft kiss pressed to the top of his head, you return the words back to him.

“I love you so much. Thank you for always being there for me. You’re truly one of my anchors in this life.”

+x+

You wake up the next morning alone in bed. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, except this time a note sits on Zoro’s nightstand.

Woke up to Nami banging on the door. Kind of surprised it didn’t wake you up either. Anyway, we’re docked now and Luffy dragged me out with him to explore. The stupid cook and Robin are still here on the ship, so I asked them to ring me when you wake up. If you decide to leave the ship, come find me. If not, then rest and I’ll come back to you later. Love you, Zoro.

You smile at the sloppy handwriting, your mind quickly flashing to last night’s conversation between the two of you. You sit and think about it and come to the conclusion that you no longer doubt yourself. You feel as light as a feather, hopping out of bed and changing into a new outfit for the day. You’re assuming your lover had taken it upon himself to change you, not remembering when you had put your sleeping clothes on.

You waltz into the kitchen, greeted with heart eyes and the smell of coffee.

“Good morning to you, Athena. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, Sanji’s desperately wanting to go pick some things up. Are you feeling better now? Zoro said you were feeling under the weather this morning.” Robin’s gentle voice distracts you from worrying about the amount of blood spilling from Sanji’s nose, a soft smile on her face as you greet her back.

“Good morning! I feel much better now, like I can do anything.” You smile. Sanji’s serving you a plate of breakfast as you sit across from the archaeologist. You start to eat, trying to peek at the newspaper she’s holding in her hand. The headline makes you choke on your food.

“WHAT THE HELL? LUFFY’S AN EMPEROR NOW?!”

Your voice is loud enough that Sanji and Robin are sure the entire island could hear it. Before Sanji’s able to fill you in on what was discussed after you and Zoro went to bed, your shrieks were heard throughout the Sunny.

“WHAAAAAAT?! MY BOUNTY’S AT TEN DIGITS NOW?!”

“Well, you and Zoro missed a lot last night. We’re happy to know that you’re feeling better now though!” Robin says, a closed-eye smile sent your way.

You’re in a state of shock: reading the article that was released less than twenty four hours ago, and you hear Sanji’s tongue click.

“Maybe we should take Athena-swan to Chopper for medicine,” Eyes wide and jaw hung, you nod your head. “And probably look for the embarrassment you call your boyfriend.”

With that, you shove Sanji away from you, standing up quickly and taking hold of Robin’s hand. You grab your bag and walk off the ship with the two of them next to you, feeling thousands times better than last night.

Zoro, you say in your mind. Please don’t be lost. Eh — it’s been hours since they left. He’s definitely lost.

With a new sense of confidence and optimism, you hold your head high and continue your journey in making this a life worth living.

+x+

an (2): ahhhh yes!! athena (reader) is luffy’s sister…i have her while character outline already written. i kinda hate the ending but i also didn’t want to stay stuck on this lil story for too long…but i do want to write more abt our lovely athena and the life she’s willing to live <3

please do leave feedback! it helps me improve :) especially since i’m still learning & getting back into it!!

[billskeis]

ᡣ𐭩 first time w bill

it was time. bill was finally ready to do it, after doing some research on his own time he eventually came to the conclusion that he was ready to have sex with you. it was communicated between the two of you and you couldn’t be any more happy to take this next step of the relationship.

you loved bill and you wanted his first time to be amazing.

“are you sure you’re ready bill?” you ask nervously, you didn’t know what caused this anxiousness. you’ve had plenty of experience before, but considering that this was the first time you’re actually doing it with someone you love makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

“yes, y/n, you don’t need to worry about me.. god, you’re breathtaking,” he comes to hug you, placing a kiss onto your lips. he takes a step back, grasp on your waist as he admired you in all your glory.

you wore a black matching lace set, showing off all your curves. bill just stands there to think about how he’s so lucky to be with the most beautiful person ever.

“bill..” “i’m sorry meine liebe, i just cannot stop staring at you,” you lean into kiss bill, cutting off his talking because once he starts he doesn’t know how to stop. deepening the kiss, he brings you to sit down on the bed, straddling you now onto his lap.

gently, he flips you onto the bed to lay on your back. kissing your neck, he goes down slowly leaving a trail of kisses on your body, reaching your heat, stopping. he sits up a bit to just look at you, expectingly.

he’s waiting for an answer, the okay, to take your panties off. you smile at him sweetly, to which he returns, his puppy dog eyes never leaving you.

wait, fuck, does he want to do this in missionary?

out of all the guys you had sex with, none of them wanted to do it in missionary with you. face to face. with bill, it’ll be your first time. your anxious, almost scared, not wanting him to see the ugly expressions you may possibly curate on your face while looking at him. it’s embarrassing.

propping yourself up on the bed a bit, you grab one of the pillows to hold it in front of your body, hugging it tightly. “baby, what’s with the pillow..?” he looks at you disappointed, he wanted to see your face while it’s the first time you guys do it.

“uhh—yeah! i just feel more comfortable with the pillow.. is that okay?” “mm, i guess so baby..” you then look up at the ceiling until you feel bill grab each side of your panties and pulls them swiftly off your legs, discarding them some place else in the room. “oh god,” he almost gasps.

slick glistens from between your legs, as bill leans in a little closer, he feels a stripe up the folds of your cunt, passing over your clit making your hips jolt up. there’s now a painful and uncomfortable tightness inside his pants. “bill.. please don’t tease.”

“m’ sorry baby, you’re just so pretty,” he inserts a finger, the stretch of his fingers feeling amazing. his fingers are long and slender, and despite his lack of experience, knows exactly how to utilize his hands, the pad of his fingers pressing over a spot your body particularly likes.

unable to control your moaning, you shove the pillow into your face. bill, clearly unsatisfied with this, inserts another finger, the feeling now even more unbearable as he brings his fingers back and forth, ensuring to curl them upwards to continuously hit the spongey part of your cunt that made you crazy.

choking on your breath, you try and get him to stop, “b-bill,” “hmm?” “i-in..” due to your lack of usage in words, he doesn’t quite understand you. that is, until, the coil in your stomach that was building up finally snaps.

legs shaking, your high washes over you and he lets you ride it out on his fingers. eventually, catching your breath he takes his fingers out and asks, “i’m so sorry oh my god, what is it that you want ‘in’ again..?” genuinely sounding concerned, he sits there clueless as if he didn’t just finger fuck you to an orgasm.

damn, how fucking clueless can he be?

you look down as his crotch, the obvious bulge wanting and needing to come out. he looks at your face to them look at his own crotch and back at you, “oh! yea, hold on..” he finally unzips his pants and frees his dick, springing up in anticipation as it hits his lower stomach.

holy fucking shit he’s huge.

and i’m talking wayy huger than any guy you’ve ever been with. you swallow a hard lump in your throat, calculating the length and the girth of his penis, unable if you could actually take it. having staring for too long, you shove the pillow into your face once more, waiting.

bill uses his fingers to collect the cum from your cunt, your hips shaking a bit from the sensitivity. he lathers it onto the tip of his cock and down his shaft. aligning it, he decides to tease you by rubbing his tip up and down your slit, staying a little longer to rub on your clit.

“b-bill! please, m’ still sensitive..just—put it in,” he inhales sharply, pushing inside. you can’t see him, but his mouth is agape at the new foreign feeling. “g-god y/n.. you feel so good..” as he inserts his thick length deeper inside of you, you can feel it all in your gummy walls.

you can feel your breath becoming short, almost choking as your body attempts to engulf all of your boyfriend. bottoming out, bill groans, he feels so good to be inside you. you hold the pillow as tightly as you hold bill, clenching onto him as you adjust to his size.

“is—is it okay if i move now schatz..?” face still covered, you nod into it, he sees these movements as an okay and begins slowly thrusting. he starts off erratic but soon begins to find a rhythm. he’s a natural, you thought, and this kills you both internally and externally. a bubbling begins to form into your lower abdomen once more, biting onto the pillow to make sure none of your moans slip.

a yelp can be heard from you when bill snaps his hips a little too harshly, now causing you to scream a little, legs shaking once more. bill gets scared, oh no, is he too big? did you die? does it simply just not feel good with him? fuck. thoughts filled his head as he rips the pillow from your grasp and looks utmost concerned.

“baby are you okay!? what’s wro—“ he looks down at you, watching you spew quiet and continuous ‘no’s’ and ‘don’t look.’

you have an absolutely fucked out face, tongue lolled to the side as saliva pools out a bit, your chest heaving, breasts slipping out your bra to reveal your perky nipples. he didn’t notice until he looked down, a now wet spot below the two of you where you connected, with a more obvious ease to slip his dick in and out your cunt. you came.

a tear spills out your eye, sniffling as you attempt to cover your face with the palms and fingers of your hand “i came again.. no more..” sniffling, bill wipes a tear from your face gently, “already done? but baby.. i didn’t get to come yet,” he begins moving once more. electric buzz can be felt in your core, a burn that feels so bad yet so good at the same time.

you mewl, grabbing each of one bills arms that had situated on both your hips to thrust hardly. how the fuck is he so good for his first time!? adding to the mix, he shakes away one of your hands from his arm and begins to rub circles on your clit, eyes rolling back, you try and get him to stop by smacking his arm, using any last bit of sense you had that bill already hadn’t fucked out of you.

“does it feel good y/n? i-i feel so good, i can’t stop. i won’t stop. m’ sorry baby, but you feel amazing,” not taking any time to stop his movement he continues to slam his length into you. biting his lips, he tries to hold his smile back from admiring how sexy you look under him.

his babbling doesn’t even register in your head, it’s all fuzzy and cloudly, eyes rolling back as all you can see now is white. “i-i can’t anymore..!” “i know, i know baby, one more time. just one more time and i’ll be done okay? how’s that sound?” you nod just hoping for him to stop because it hurts so good. the sensations were just too much.

little did you know, bill’s a liar. a big liar, he doesn’t want to stop, and he’s not going to. his cock is constantly rubbing against your g stop, he sometimes slows his pace to grind against you, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix. “unnnh b-bill,” “i’m gonna come, that okay? can i come in you?” he asks in anticipation, not being able to say no to your cute boyfriend you just nod.

luckily you’re on birth control, so bill feverishly rams himself into you, the burn of his hips hurting, but seeing as how it makes you feel good he doesn’t want to stop.

your bodies are just so compatible he wishes the two of you could melt together and never leave this moment, ever. looking at your belly while he fucks you, he thinks about coming and filling your stomach with his sperm.

the thought turning him on so much when he also sees how big the size difference is between the two of you, tip moving inside and out to cause a little bump form on your stomach from each thrust throws him over the edge.

stilling his movement, he cums inside of you, sperm coating the plush, velvety walls of your cunt. groaning, he rides his high out as he grinds his hips again just one more time. his grinding caused you to come once more. you scream a bit, biting your fingers raw to hold back your moans. bill on the other hand groans so loud the neighbours could probably hear him.

you’re already overstimulated, and you’re so tired. past relationships only managed to get one orgasm from you, most times not even one.

as your bodies were once connected from each other, he gets up from laying on top of you, kissing your lips, “are you okay..?” he asks, places kisses on your cheek, trying to catch your breath, you say, “never felt better,” “good, because i can still go for more! you can too, right!?”

bill looks at you with puppy eyes, you can almost see dog ears and a tail wagging happily. fuck, you can never say no to him. your pride and ego as someone who’s had more experience have just been thrown out the window. but who can say no to such a cutie??

you pat his head, he smiles brightly at you with flushed cheeks and sweat dripping of his forehead. getting up, he slips himself out of you as you sit upright on the bed. standing on the edge of the bed, he holds his cock out to your face.

you look up to him, a dark look in his eye, but a fire almost glinting in them. he smacks the tip of his dick onto your cheek, definitely expecting more from you as he’s made it super clear.

“suck it.”

what happened to my cute virgin boyfriend??

you came about four more times that night.

[snoopyearss]

Hi ♡

I read some of your works and they were amazing! I just wanted to ask... Can I make a request? If yes, I had one thought in mind...

How would Nanami Kento react on his s/o who never experienced an orgasm while having sex? Always left unsatisfied with other men. Would he be such a gentleman and help her to experience the best bed experience of her life? ♡

Nanami making you come for the first time

Omg omg omgggg yes yes!! I love this idea

It started with the both of you feeling on each other subtly (if you can call it that), which led to him carrying you to his bedroom. He lies you on your back and starts kissing down from your jaw to your collarbone, whispering dirty things in your ear. “I’ve been craving you,” he would moan in your ear.

You and him have been dating for quite a while now, enough time for you two to start getting comfortable with sex. Usually when it came to dating men, they were a disappointment in that field. The number of orgasms you had to fake is absolutely ridiculous. But you got so good at it that they didn’t notice. You figured it was just going to be one of those times. No big deal, you’d just pull out the rose toy after he falls asleep, you thought to yourself.

“You look so beautiful baby, I can’t wait to see what you look like when you come all over my cock.” He purred as he took off your top and skirt you were wearing. You chuckled at his comment, completely forgetting that he was right in front of you.

He stopped what he was doing to drown at you, “What was that?” Your eyes shut out of sheer embarrassment. “Did you just laugh?” You didn’t respond.

“Y/n.” He sternly said. It made the hairs on your body stand up and a wave of arousal ran through you. Slowly, you opened you eyes and was faced to face with a shirtless, muscular man.

“I-I..”

“What? Do you think I’m incapable of making you come?”

“N-no, I just..no one’s ever really made me..” You don’t know what came over you, but when it came to Nanami speaking so sternly, it turned you on. “No one’s ever made you come?” He sat down next to you after you shook your head no.

“Darling, I feel like this is something you should’ve told me.” He lightly scolded. “I know, ‘M sorry. It’s just embarrassing.” You mumbled. “That could never be embarrassing. That just means they weren’t catering to your needs.” You remained silent. He got up and got on his knees before you, spreading your legs a bit.

“What-“

“I’m going to show you what you were missing.”

Nanami spreads your legs and softly blows on your clit causing you to twitch. You clenched the sheets in anticipation.

“Let me know if you feel uncomfortable, and I’ll stop. Okay?” He reassured and you nodded in response.

He began to massage your folds, getting you more malleable to play with. It made you relax under his touch which is exactly what he wanted. He used his hand to massage you while he brought his lips to your clit and lightly sucked on it.

“Oh fuck..” you breathed out.

Nanami continued his same movements, then replacing his hand with his mouth all together. The way your breath hitched in your chest and the way you were fidgeting around, you knew something about this was different.

“O-oh my- Kento..fuckk,” you moaned now running your hands through his blonde hair. “Oh my god it feels s-so good.”

“Yeah, it feels good baby? You want me to add another finger?”

“Yes yes yes yes please,” you chanted. He inserted another finger, curling it inside and hitting that spot that it takes you minutes at a time to hit. You moaned louder this time, legs shaking on either side of his face.

Nanami looks up and watches your face contorts in pleasure as you get close to your orgasm. “Kento…im- im-”

“Let go for me pretty girl, make a mess all over my fingers. Let me taste you..there you go..that’s my girl.” He talks you through the whole wave, using his other arm to hold you down to prevent you from jolting around. The moans flowed out of your mouth like a stream of water. He continued to pump his fingers in you until you came down.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out covering your eyes.

“How was that?” He kissed up and down your thighs. You could only nod.

“Think I can make you come around my cock now?”

[hees-mine]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 ⚥ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, mommy kink, unprotected sex, cursing, over stimulation.

“Does that feel good mommy?” Heeseung moans right next to your ear while slowly stroking your soaked pussy In missionary, rolling his perfect hips at the perfect pace for you to feel every inch of his long thick cock.

“Yes, my baby boy, so good” You place your hands on his ass pulling him closer to you until he bottoms out and is forced to still inside you cause of your tight grip.

You voluntarily clench around his base so you can hear him make those pretty little noises next to your ear. “M-mommy,” he whimpers softly, and this time, when you clench around him again, it’s completely involuntary. That’s just the effect his voice had on you.

You release your grip on him, and he immediately starts fucking into you, slowly whining about how good your pussy feels on his cock.

You strum your fingers against his back, making little goosebumps form all over his damp skin.

“Yeah, pretty boy, feels good? You like feeling mommy’s pussy all tight and wet just for you?” You purr next to his ear.

“Hmm, y-yes s-so,” he choked up before he could even finish losing his train of thought while your warm walls massaged his hard length. “Mommy, I’m gonna cum” he breathes out, body shaking and trembling above as you feel that familiar twitch.

“Is that really how you say thank you?” He knows it’s not. He knows better than to cum before you, but tonight he just couldn’t hold it. He was feeling so unusually needy for you.

“I can’t” he shakes his head back and forth, gripping tightly onto the pillows trying his best to stave off his orgasm, but his hips seem to have a mind of their own cause he can’t stop pumping you full of his cock as little whines leave his lips. “I'm s-so sorry,” he choked out when the first spurt of warm cum invaded your walls. “S-sorry, Mommy,” he nudges his face against yours while endless apologies spew out of his mouth as he finishes inside you.

“Don’t be sorry, my sweet boy,” you say softly, running your hand through his hair. “Now you just have to make it up to me,” he nods in the crook of your neck, immediately willing to do anything you ask. “You can cum again, can’t you, my sweet boy?” He whines, still sensitive from his previous orgasm and the other two he had prior.

“M-mommy,” he whispers, and as soon as you hear the apprehension in his tone, you clench around him and tug on the roots of his hair. “Yes, Mommy,” he lifts his head up, his hazy eyes meeting yours before he zeros in on your lips, kissing you to try and give himself a little bit of cooldown time before he starts moving inside you again.

You gladly return his kiss, sticking your tongue in his mouth, roaming every inch before sucking on his warm and wet tongue.

He can’t help but whine at the sensation every time you do that to him. It always made him feel so dirty, but dirty in the best way, and he didn’t even get a chance to go soft cause the feeling of you was too addicting.

“That’s a good boy.” You break the kiss to let him take a breather before reconnecting your lips to his.

He can’t help but thrust into you from the praise, but before he can start fucking you properly, he winced, far too sensitive to go on. “I can’t.” he hides away in your pillows, embarrassed and disappointed with himself.

“Baby boy,” you say sternly, and you feel him tense up at your tone. “After everything we did today and all the gifts I bought you, you can’t do me just this one little thing?”

“N-no, I-I can,” he tries again and fails again, nearly on the verge of tears cause he’s not doing his job right and ultimately leaving you unsatisfied.

You click your tongue. “Hmm, okay, go get cleaned up then.” you let go of his waist so he can get up and go, but he doesn’t.

“No!” He cries out and starts moving his lower body, willing himself to give you the orgasm that you deserve after spoiling him all day. Plus, he couldn’t have you leaving him to get your satisfaction elsewhere.

“You sure you can handle it?” he nods, too focused on keeping his sanity to give you a proper answer. “Mommy’s boy”

“Yes,” he huffs out a tired breath, picking up his pace gradually until the pain he feels is mixed with pleasure. “Your boy” he easily handles your body, placing your legs around his waist, gripping your thighs, and fucking into you with all his strength. “Fuck” he pants, leaning back on his knees to fuck you from a different angle, one that makes you moan instantly.

“Just like that.” you drag your nail down his chest, eyes trailing over every inch of his perfectly toned chest and abdomen.

“Mommy, you feel so fucking good” he digs his fingertips into your thighs, clapping noises added to your low moans and his little whimpers.

“You do too, my sweet boy,” you moan softly, clenching around him when you watch the way his eyes roll back in his head. That alone could make you cum.

Hearing that nickname only motivates him to go faster and deeper till your bed frame is knocking against the wall and your moans increase in pitch. “Yes, Mommy, keep squeezing on my cock just like that,” he groans, eyes turning even darker as he watches you falling apart around his dick. “So fucking pretty like this” he placed his hand on your right breast, squeezing softly, earning more moans from you.

“Fuck! Baby boy right t-there ngh” You hold onto his waist for support, your tits sloshing with every single thrust, and you’re not far from cumming on his cock for the fourth time tonight.

“Yeah? Mommy? Like it right there?” He smirks down at you while bringing his thumb to his mouth, wetting the pad on his tongue before traveling down to your clit and rubbing you in tiny circles. The feeling of getting you off replaced all of the overstimulation he felt.

“Yes! My prince,” he hits that spot over and over till you're clenching and cream all over his sensitive dick. “Cumming!” You cry out in pleasure, and every orgasm with him feels better than the last, and it always leaves you wanting more.

“Mommy,” he moans, brows furrowed together as he rests his elbow beside your head, stroking you through your orgasm while playing with your clit. “Mommy, I think I need to cum again. Can I please?” he bites on his lip, soft eyes scanning your pleasure face as you contract around him.

“Yes, please cum in me need your cum, my little prince,” he creams inside you the moment the words leave your mouth.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he mumbles, lowering his head so he can capture your lips in a messy make-out session while caressing you down from your highs until you’re both panting against each other's lips. “Mommy,” he moans, the soft, wet sounds between your bodies filling up your room until you’re both content and relishing in the post-orgasm bliss.

“My baby boy, you did so good. Mommy’s so proud of you.” he lays his cheek on your chest, snuggling up to you and listening to your calming heartbeat.

“Thank you, Mommy,” he whispers, completely exhausted.

Before you can even think about going to clean up, you hear his labored breath and see the soft pout on his lips, and he looked too cute to move him so despite him still being inside you and the bedsheets stained with a mix of cum and sweat you softly stroke his hair babying him to sleep cause after all he was just your cute little sugar baby.

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

[lostberet]

🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ LOOK MY WAY | kim seokjin (m)(r)

୨ৎ synopsis: He had noticed the lack of love in the moral world. Conflicted, he traveled to the moral world to figure out the problem in which he was only left with disappointment and no answers. Out of self-punishment, he goes by the name Seokjin and stays in the human world where he produces a perfume company in hopes of restoring love. However, he can't help but notice how his heart beats faster for an employee, and maybe, he can understand why there is a lack of love.

⋆.˚ genre: greek god x mortal au, non-idol au, modern history au, love at first sight, lovesick Seokjin, angst, sexual tension, semi-smut

⋆.˚ disclaimer. This story won't contain accurate greek mythology, Jin talks to Aprhodite (his mama in this story), lovesick jin, bow and arrow, Jin gets desperate and almost shoots the reader, kisses, angst, Jin experiences heart-break, sexual tension, semi-smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), mini breeding kink if you squint, , english is not my first lenguage, if i missed anything let me know!

⋆.˚ a/note. I want to make a part two for this, but I am not sure, please let me know if you guys are interested! also, i was in a bit of a rush :c it's midterm season. I hope you all enjoy, like, comment and reblog! love yous!

|| masterlist || entry || part ii (maybe)?

Eros has seen the world grow. Bloom into the most curious society. What was once a life with no buildings that touched the sky, or with cement roads, Eros had grown to adapt.

The adaptation wasn't any of his concern, no, his worries and strengths lay in the relationship and love of the morals, which, throughout time has grown bitter. His concern didn't lie in the many lights the cities populated, or the noises the cars and bars created, but in the fact that no one believed in true love. 

Unsatisfied, Eros brought himself into the mortal realm, wanting to explore, to study, to understand and hopefully, redeem love. Yet, each time, he was left disappointed. There would be cases in which he was able to use his bow and arrow, creating a wonderful match. And there would be times where those relationships failed, why? He didn’t understand, was he failing as the god of love? Was cupid not important anymore? As self punishment, he decided to stay in the mortal realm in hopes of redeeming himself. 

He went by the name Seokjin, unable to use his given name. With his godly powers and influence, in the mortal realm, he lives a life of luxury, just like back in his immortal realm. His beauty was outstanding thanks to his mothers genes, the humans loved him. And during his time in the mortal realm, Madan flourished, a Perfume company. One in which he believed would bring love, humans loved the scent of perfume, right? 

And that’s where the gods had brought you. In front of a bridge building whose architecture resabled the building in ancient greece. The summer sun warmed your golden skin, the fresh wind blew your dark hair, as if nature was welcoming you into your home. Each step you took into the building caused your gut to yell, telling you, warning you, yet just like every warning, you brushed it away. 

You weren’t a model, you weren’t an influencer, heck, you weren’t a fashion icon. But the woman whose eyes landed on you sure were. It causes you to feel smaller, uglier. Could it have been their fair skin, their shiny hair or their style? You didn’t know, but you knew your appearance wasn’t welcomed. 

The moment you took the elevator to the 5th floor where your Marketing office would be at, your breath was knocked south out of you. You choked back a gasp, it smelled good. Too good. You felt a headache rising to your temples and dizziness. You wanted to take a deep breath, but it was impossible with the amount of goodness scent. 

“Are you alright?” the voice of the god spoke, you opened your eyes and tilted your head up. Glazing into some beautiful brown eyes, so beautiful, yet so sad, ‘Yes, just.. Headache.” You muttered, your eyes leaving him, “which floor?” You cleared your throat, “5.”

Jin never intended to lose control. No, he never wanted to. But he was losing his sanity, his will, and most importantly, himself. He never liked the idea of forced love, or love magic or anything that had to do with poisons. But his fingers would tingle at the idea that maybe, that was the solution. 

He stayed all day in his elegant office, high off the many scents; chocolate, vanilla, roses, cinnamon, anything that could bring the sense of desire. During his time on the mortal realm, he noticed the human’s like of smell, bringing an idea that if he produced the right scent, it could make one fall in love. It wasn’t exactly a love potion, no. Not at all, in fact, he wanted to resolve this without his bow and arrow, without his gift, because maybe it was time not to force love?

The meeting room was dark compared to the rest of the company building, it made you feel as if you were taking part in some evil plan when in fact you were meeting the CEO and discussing Marketing aspects with the team. Yet, your gut kept telling you that it wasn’t right. 

You turned your tablet on and started taking notes, drawing small doodles of the illustrations and predictions for the Spring edition collection, “No, I want something to last.” Your ears perked up as you turned your head to the chairman. Everyone in the room is doing the same. He rubbed his forehead with two of his fingers, “I don’t want to repeat fragrances, I want it to last.” 

The presenter licked their lips and uncomfortably shifted from where they stood, “Oh well.. I..” They stuttered, their eyes dancing around the many faces in the room, “We.. We can try oils instead of perfumes?” You muttered out, unsure. 

The chairman’s eyes landed on you, causing you to flinch. You pressed your lips into a thin line and cursed yourself as you noticed his expression change, “or maybe not..” you whispered. “What’s your name?” you lost your job. Is what would have happened if Jin didn’t appreciate your idea. 

“y/n, y/n l/n. I’m new in the Marketing team.” You introduced yourself. Jin only stared at you, letting out a breathy chuckle, “Welcome to the team, y/n. I would like to hear more about those oils.” You thanked the gods above for sending Jin as your boss.  

You didn't know if Jin made your life easier or harder. On one hand, he knows what he wants, he has a goal. On the other hand, he doesn't know what he wants, or, in other words, how to deliver that goal. You've been working carefully with Jin and the fragrance team to come up with a new scent. One that lasts like Jin wanted.

"No, I want the smell to attract, to.. I don't know.." Jin threw his hands up in defeat before dropping them back down, slapping the sides of his leg, "attract desire on people."

"So.. lust?" You question as you took notes on your tablet. Three months. Three freaking months is what took you to be Jin's right hand in this project. Three fucking months to be his assistant. Jin's neck snaped towards you and you were sure you heard it crack.

"I don't do lust," Jin hissed, "I do love, passion." He sighed. You nodded at his words, tapping your apple pen on your tablet, "But.. these notes.. they point to lust.."

"What.." Jin breathed, feeling too tired, too stressed. "How can anyone think about falling in love, when they're so tempted by lust?" you asked, taking a breath before continuing, "Love isn't something that can be forced or attracted by a simple trait. There's supposed to be chemistry.. affection? not desire.. or want, but longing." You explained.

Jin let out a breathy laugh. His hands resting on his hips as he turned around. His laughed turned into a sarcastic one, sending you into freeze mode. He looked desperate, mad even, “I can’t keep falling.” he uttered out, his head hanging low, “you’re not failing, sir..” Jin only laughed, shaking his head. “You’re only saying that because I am your boss.”

You shook your head, setting your coat and tablet down, “No, I mean it. You’re so talented and splendid, you have a gift, sir.” Jin almost snored at your comment. He had a gift alright, but even with his gift, he was a failure. Or maybe his gift had run out. “No, I have no gift.” 

You frowned, “I have no fucking gift. If I did, I wouldn’t be stuck here. I wouldn’t be working on perfumes that help people recognize love and desire, I wouldn’t be standing here, being explained what love is, when it's supposed to be my thing.. I would be back home.. I'm a joke.”

You pitied the man in front of you. He must have had a rough life, you believed. One in which he had to live up to accomplishments, to success. Just like you felt at times. You sighed, “If it’s alright..” you took a step closer to the man, his gaze lifting from the floor to your eyes, “can I give you a hug?” 

“A hug?” puzzled, Jin frowned. You nodded, getting closer and softly wrapping your arms around him. He tensed at your touch, he was never touched this way before, or touched at all, in fact. “It’s okay, Jin.” You whispered softly. Your voice comes to him in comfort, “Success takes time, no one is perfect.” But he’s supposed to. Jin softly gave into the embrace, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning his head on your shoulder. 

Jin never intended to lose himself, but he was going insane. Among all scents and perfumes he's worked on, none of them matched with yours. Because as he hugged you, his arms tightening around your waist, nose digging into the crook of your neck, he felt his heart flutter. You didn’t only smell like coconut with a mixture of vanilla, you didn’t only smell like cinnamon and caramel, you didn’t only smell like fresh laundry and lavender, but you smelt of comfort and hope. 

Your embrace loosed the moment you felt Jin tremble on top of you. The smile you had on your face completely gone as you tried pulling away from him. His arms held you in place, pulling you back into the hug as he let out a sniff, his voice weak and heavy, “Let’s stay like this.. Just for a little.” And you accepted it. 

You found Jin to be a very interesting person. He had strange tastes, or just simply didn't care. If anything, he didn't have any boundaries. He acted like he ruled the world, and honestly, if you had that amount of money, you would too.

Jin had smoothly and noticeably made it a habit to take you to his home, his house to practice give him some therapy. Oddly, enough, it didn't feel like therapy sessions.

"Maybe, I ain't cut up for this.." Jin muttered, his fingers resting on his lip. It's been around two months since that intimate hug, and ever since then, Jin had gotten.. well, he clung onto you.

You hesitantly reached, placing your hand on his back before rubbing it softly. It'll become sort of like a habit for you to comfort him. You didn't mind. You wanted to help. He lifted his head, looking at you, "you're more capable than you think, Jin."

You smiled softly, causing Jin's heart to flatter once more. What did you have to cause his heart to beat like crazy? Taking a breath which got caught, he scanned your features, falling into a spell, "..y/n."

You couldn't understand the strange tension in Jin's eyes whenever you were too close to him, touching him even. Words of comfort always caused Jin to look at you with such intimacy. Something you never got to experience in other relationships. Jin brought his body closer, nose almost touching before you realized, waking up from an enchantment.

"I..uh.. sorry, I'll head out.." you stuttered out, making your way towards the door. Each step you took made Jin's heart pound louder in his ears. How was he to tell you that he liked you? He liked you perhaps a little too much.

Jin followed behind, his thought train speeding through his mind. Without hesitation, He extended his arm, recreating holding his bow and that's when he felt it. Love can't be forced.

His heart dropped as he shook his head, running to you, "I'm sorry, y/n.. please.." You said softly but loud enough for you to hear.

Jin held your wrist, stopping you from taking a step. You turned towards him, avoiding eye contact, “Y/n..” his voice came out as a faint whisper, as if he was trying to reach for you. Your eyes betrayed you, slowly lifting their gaze to meet Jin’s and you silently cursed whoever made the man in front of you. His eyes enchanted you, hypnotized you even. His soft plump lips tilted into a small smile, leaning his face closer to you and your eyes took a quick glance at his lips before lifting them up to meet his eyes. 

His fingers lightly held your chin, making sure to keep your head in place, not wanting you to leave his gaze, “Stay with me..” the words left his mouth, putting you into a spell in which you couldn’t escape, “please?”

You swallowed, but you nodded. Jin only let out a small breath as he grinded, his other hand coming to hold and wrap around your waist before he leaned closer. Both your nose brushed against each other, and of course you let out a faint whine. Jin’s thumb brushed your bottom lip, causing a small shiver to run down your spine at the warmth, “you’re so.. Enchanting..”

Your eyes looked down at his lips and as if answering your silent question he pressed his lips against yours. Both your lips chasing after each other in a deeper kiss. Your arms flew to wrap around his neck, locking him into the kiss in which he didn’t complain. His touches were ghostly against your skin, afraid to touch you as if you would melt away. Your touches were clingy and desperate, wanting him to touch and melt you away. 

That night you experienced so much emotion through physical contact, emotion in which you never imagined ever to experience in this lifetime. His hands were gentle as he held your wrist, his thumb brushing against your wrist as he thrust his hips against yours. His other holding the back of your neck as he stared at your face, taking in every expression as he rolled his hips into you. 

You would let out a whiney sob as you opened your eyes, a glass filled vision as tears built up from the pure pleasure Jin was giving you, your jaw widening as you let out a silent moan. Jin let out a soft grunt as he felt you tighten yourself around his cock, sending his eye to twitch out in pleasure as he leaned onto your neck. Brushing his lips against your pulse point before he kissed and sucked marks onto your skin. 

Your hands ran down his back, nails digging into his skin the moment you felt your sixth orgasm of the night build up, “Jin..” you cried out in which he responded with a soft hush, “I know, darling..”

It’d become odd. The relationship between you and Jin, ever since that night. It had seemed that both of you were nothing during the day, but the moment everyone left the office leaving both your souls, you’ve become different people. 

He would crack jokes, take you out for dinner, drop you at home. He would never ask for a kiss, nor a hickey, all he asked for was for your time. And it terrified you. It must have been 7 months since the night you slept together and Jin had not treated you any different, but your mind would shift towards the worst. 

Maybe you were horrible in bed, were you too loud? You felt something crawl up your leg, it felt like the legs of a spider. Perhaps you were too ugly? It didn’t take long for the overwhelming feeling of insecurity to crawl over your whole body. 

That night as you sat in the chair in the middle of the island in Jin’s kitchen, you fought the urge to ask him. His back faced towards you as he cooked up pasta. He always did this, at least every Friday. Take you to his home where he would cook for you, make you laugh, make you feel special and then sleep tangled in his arms. It scared you. 

“Was I bad?” you asked, setting the fork down as you’ve lost your appetite, Jin only looked up from his plate as he slurped a noodle, frowning. “I mean..” Jin then set his fork down, wanting to have his full attention on you, “when we slept together, was I bad?” 

He tilted his head, unsure of how to answer your question. You felt nervous under his gaze, “No, not at all?” He questioned, unsure where you were getting at, “Then why haven’t we done it?” Your voice came out as a whisper, Jin then swallowed as he blinked, “Because I didn’t think you'd want it.” 

The kitchen fell silent. Jin continued, “I want you.” he paused, straightening his back as he chased your eyes to lock with them, “all the fucking time.” It was your turn to be left speechless, “I want to take you everywhere every time, but I know it’s not right, not without your permission.” The table fell silent again, and as both of you ate once more, you debated with yourself. 

After washing the dishes, Jin brought you to the living room in which he turned the TV, “I find it so fascinating how humans can come up with these things. So creative.” You let out a chuckle as you sat on the couch, you back sinking into the comfort of the pillows. Selecting a streaming app, Jin also leaned back, laying next to you as an arm rested above your shoulders. “I’m serious, you guys are interesting.” 

You only leaned onto his shoulder as he selected the Movie he mentioned a moment ago while washing the dishes, “Percy Jackson is.. Hm..” Jin hummed, thinking back to his life as a god. Your eyes looked up at his pouting face, “I think it’s cute.” 

You hummed as you reached over for the blanket, covering your body. “Cute?” Jin frowned as looked down at you, “I meant as in, the gods having kids. I don’t know anything about all that Greek God bullshit, but them having kids seems like a cool concept.” You explained yourself as your eyes settled at the screen before you. 

Jin’s thoughts shut off, staring at the wall next to the TV trying to progress what you mentioned. His eyes squinted a bit, imagining a world in which he potentially had a child, is that even possible?

“If you were a god, let’s say,” you asked, snapping Jin out of his thoughts, “and you had a child, would you let them go through all that just to accept them?” You asked, your brows frowned as you looked at the screen. Jin took a deep breath, “No.”

“Me neither. You have children out of love, not to keep the bloodline going.” You muttered, cuddling the blanket closer to you, "If i were to be a mom one day, I would never let my child think they had to live up to my expectations to receive my love."

Jin blinked. love. what really did it mean, what came with it. He rubbed his fingertips together, feeling the softness of his own skin before he sat up, looking at you. "Can we sleep together?"

You rubbed your eyes, already feeling tired, "what?" Jin leaned down towards you, "Can I kiss you?" Your eyes widened a bit, but nothertheless, you nodded.

You regretted it instantly. Your wrists were pinned behind your lower back and your face lay on the couch as Jin pounded you from behind. Small grunts and moans filled the living room, some being washed away by the sound of the TV. You twitched under him, feeling the tight knot in your stomach, "fuck Jin.."

You gasped out, kicking your feet a bit. Jin only tilted his head back, feeling his cock twitch as he slipped in and out of you, furiously slamming into you from behind, "you're so good to me, y/n.." he moaned.

His hand gripped the fat on your hip, bringing you back to him as he fucked into you, "so pretty.." he muttered, his head coming back to look at the way your cunt took his dick. "gonna fill you up so good, so full.." his head was thrown back, and soft moans left his mouth. His breath hitched when a load of his milky white cum shot out, causing you to gasp out as you soon felt your own orgasm clasp.

Jin kept thrusting, slow and gentle, making sure to keep his load in you. He knew that what he wanted was very slim, but the thought lingered, "I promise to take you everywhere.. I'mma make you feel loved and satisfied."

Jin kept his word and he did take you whenever he could. Whether that was bending you over his office table or having you ride him in his car in the company's parking lot. It worried you how much time and stigma the man had. He was out of this world.

"I don't just have sex, y/n." He laughed. Settling into his bed, your body already too tired as you closed your eyes, "I make love." He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his body. You wanted to protest, to argue with him. we're not in love, is what you wanted to tell him. But maybe it was a conversation of another day.

You were terrified. Nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to experience. You rubbed your temple as you walked into Jin's office floor, throat dry. You were confused, drowned in complex emotions.

It was about 8 pm, and everyone on the floor had gone home, or so you thought. Opening the door to Jin's office, the smell of what was once so pleasant to your nose caused you to cringe in disgust. This was no pleasant scent, but it was a familiar one.

The smell of sex reeked your nose as you quickly covered it, your eyes frowned as you noticed Jin in the middle of the office. His hair was a mess, clothes sticking to his body by sweat. You only scanned the room, no one was there. But nothing hid the fact of what had happened in that office.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, closing the door. You stared at your feet for a second trying to progress what had happened. Door handle still in hand, you tighened your grip before making your mind up. And the moment you let go, the door opened with Jin trying to reach for you.

"Y/n, it's not what you think." He started, following after you, "I don't care, Jin." you spat, "I mean it, y/n. I.." He huffed out, wanting to hold you from taking another step from him, "I love you." That's where you felt your heart drop.

“No, Jin, you’re confusing love and lust, please!” You pant out, your hands trembling as you hold your coat close to you. You felt tears build up in the corner of your eyes. You were hurt, tired, and scared. You reached the elevator, pressing the button. “You don’t love me, Jin.”

The elevator was going to take a while, you knew that. You took a deep breath in, trying to calm your trembling voice, not wanting to show how much of an effect he had on you, “You need me, yes, but you don’t need me.” Jin licked his lips, noticing how dry they’ve become. He was puzzled, confused. He, Eros, the god of love doesn’t know what love is? 

“That is.. No.. That..” he breathed, the elevator dinged, opening its doors as it gave you an escape. Jin closed his eyes as he shook his head. His heartbeat was close to his lungs, his body felt on edge, and he felt panic. “Y/n.” He held onto the elevator door, his grip tight as his knees felt weak, “I need you.. So much..”

His eyes cried out in desperation as he scanned for any sign of understanding, of longing. You stared at him, you felt your nose become stuffy, ready to cry. His cheeks had turned flustered and his eyes had watered, he looked like a mess, a gorgeous one, “There isn’t one day that my heart doesn’t ache for you. There isn’t one second where I want to be near you, please y/n..” 

He wanted to kneel in front of you, begging for you. Years and years of being worshiped, he never thought of a day in which he would worship anyone. But you arrived and changed everything, “words cannot describe how I crave for you, y/n.”

A single tear escaped your eyes, slowly rolling down your cheek as you stared at Jin, and before you knew it, you couldn’t hold the rest of them back. You let out a silent sob as you pushed Jin’s hand off the elevator door, pressing the closing button, “I’ll send in my resignation and you better accept it.”

The moment the doors closed, Jin felt his whole world collapse. Maybe he did too, maybe he too fell to the ground and sobbed, letting out painful cries as he held his chest. His hand clenched his heart as he let his tears flee. His lungs hurt from the lack of oxygen, too mournful to let any of it in. The lack of oxygen didn’t hurt as much as his heart cried for you. 

The next couple of weeks felt like a visit to the underworld where Hades lived. So cold, so dark, so lonely. And out of respect, he stayed away from you. And out of love, he accepted your resignation. Yet the moment he signed the paper, he felt like you had taken a piece of his heart with you, while he was only left with the brief memory of you, not worthy of any piece of you. 

His days had turned gloomy, his attitude had become pissy, and his heart still throbbed with pain. He had taken a break from the company. What was once his mission to restore love had been thrown out the window. Now he understood why morals were too scared to fall in love. 

SeokJin looked up at the bright night sky, his eyes staring at the sea of stars, but none looked as beautiful as you. No, he wasn’t ashamed to mention it, you could be just as beautiful as his mother. Were she to meet you, she would for sure assume you were one of her children. His throat spat a sob, his eyes sore from crying. Was this what it felt to love someone? The back of his hand covered his mouth, not wanting to make another sound as another tear rolled down his face. Why did loving someone hurt so much? 

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t cut out to be the god of love. He didn’t know anything about love. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he let out a dry sob, “Mom, what am I doing?” he asked basically no one, “What am I made for if it’s not love?” and deep down his heart broke just a little more. 

A/N. love is like a fart, if it's forced, it's probably shit.

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

His girl.

Pairing; Austin!Elvis x reader

Warning: STEP-INCEST! Yandere Austin!Elvis, Creampie, Forbidden love, Asshole boyfriend, Love confessions, Slut-Shaming, Forced filming, Mentions of murder, Gagging, Fingering, Forced cleaning, Innocent kink, Squirting, Humiliation kink, Meanie Elvis/loving Elvis, Innocent and naive reader, Dacryphilia.

Summary: You were Elvis Presley's little sister, his step-sister but it still counts! When your parents left to have their honeymoon vacation they left your big brother Elvis in charge and he swore that it was his job to protect you, even if it meant from yourself..

You tried to hide your excited smile as your parents told you about going on their honeymoon your brother leaning against the entrance of the dining room, his eyes bore into your happy buzzing self but you just ignored him. You were so happy, you can finally show your boyfriend that you were a woman and not a prudish little girl! You could finally show him that you were serious about him! "And Elvis is in charge while we're gone." Your mother broke you out of your daze 'What?' "But Mama I can take care of—" you started to protest but the feeling of your big brother's warm big hand on your shoulder stopped you "Don't worry Ma'am, I'll keep er safe." Elvis smiled, his charming smile that could make the toughest woman swoon and your mother did just that.

'Okay it's a minor setback but I'll think of something' you thought with determination, you promised to show Johnny that you loved him, and you couldn't go back now.

God, you were just cute, with that little pout, Elvis would do everything to make you happy, you were so precious and innocent unlike most of the women of your age, he wanted to protect you but some twisted part of him wanted to corrupt you, having you under him, mewling and moaning, make you his wife, his woman but he couldn't you were his little step-sister and he couldn't betray his father like that. You and Elvis waved goodbye to your giddy mother and father, once they were out of sight you headed up to your bedroom, saying you wanted to talk to your best friend barely staying to hear what your brother had to say in the matter. You called your boyfriend to tell him the great news and as expected he was just as excited about it as you were, he said he'd be there in 15 mins, which give you enough time to get ready.

Elvis knew something was up but he wanted to trust you, really just a nagging feeling kept bugging him. It got too much he decided to see what his good little mama was doing but nothing could prepare him for the anger he felt as moans and groans left your closed door which by the way broke a rule he placed in his house. Elvis took a breath and pushed the door open to peek in and if he thought he was angry before then what he was feeling was undeniable rage. Your limp-pencil-dick boyfriend was thrusting into you in a sloppy frenzy, close to cumming and you were obviously disappointed, unsatisfied, and miserable. He slammed the door open, you screamed out in shock and horror at seeing your handsome brother "What the fuck man?!" your boyfriend turned to curse elvis but stopped at the cold-deadly stare he wears "Camera." He asked cool, calm, and collected, the Calm before the storm "Closet." you answered with a shaky tone "You, go get it, yar goin' film how A man pleases a woman." Elvis order your boyfriend, and he didn't take it so well "Like hell!" Johnny shouted and that was it, Elvis walked over grabbed your boyfriend by the back of his shirt, and yanked him off you, his other hand gripped around johnny's throat "You wouldn't want everyone to know what ya did to that girl? that's right I know." Elvis whispered so you couldn't hear "So be a good lil' boy and get it."Elvis shoved Johnny towards the closet with much force that your boyfriend's face smacked into the door before he stumbles back to get the camera while Elvis took his clothes off slowly as if to tease you like he knew..

As if he knows your feeling about him, the dreams you daydream, the dream of being his cute housewife and stay-at-home mother, going on dates, that he knew you didn't want this to stop, you wanted him. Elvis loomed over your naked body, his clothes laid on the floor and his hardened cock lay against your pelvis bone, Johnny held the camera in his shaky hands. Elvis jerked himself just a bit before pushing into your wet pussy, how that fuck got you wet he didn't know, all he knew is each little inch was driving him mad, once he was balls in, he let everything out, "You're a fuckin' slut, ya know lettin' any man fuck ya? You're mine" He growled, his blues are now black and his skilled hips began to work. You moaned loudly as tears glossed over your eyes from the pleasure of each pump of his hips, his pace was fast and hard, but calculated and his cock hit all the places you didn't know you had, was this what sex was supposed to feel like "More!" you cried, gripping the bed sheets, suddenly Elvis's fingers were pushed down your throat, enough to make you gag around them "You don't give orders lil' girl." he hissed, pounding downwards into you. Johnny gulped, feeling sick that he was getting turned on, seeing his toy being fucked by Elvis Presley, her step-brother, he zoned onto where you and elvis was connected.

You sucked on his fingers, like that of a lollipop, eyes hooded, looking at him with those innocent eyes, Elvis's chest rumbled with a groan, he pulled his digits out, replacing them with his burning hot tongue, his pointing finger rubbed your clit in short, fast circles. You whined in the kiss, the knot in your stomach snapped, your back arched and your hips jerked, walls fluttering, sucking for everything he could offer. Elvis throws back his head, a deep, gaspy groan left his throat, and his hips stuttered. A heat poured into your already warm walls.

You let a small protest when Elvis slipped out of you, the feeling of him inside was addicting and you didn't want that to go so soon, your protest didn't last as Elvis sat beside your slight sweat-coated body, and parted your cum leaking folds, showing the camera his cum dripping out, letting go of your outer lips and sliding his two fingers down your clit and into your cunt, nothing could have prepared you for that was to come next. His digits fucked into you, like a hard-working machine, repeatedly hitting your g-spot, your eyes widened when Elvis bend over and bit-nippled your sensitive clitoris. A deeper pit took over you, screaming, tears flowing, you squinted all over the recorder and Elvis's face, still, even with your slick dripping his face held a smug smirk at your boyfriend.

Elvis got up and, licked away one of your tears "Such a pretty crybaby." He praised you, kissing your temple. His eyes turned to your boyfriend "Clean her." he spoke sternly, "S-sure just let me get a rug." johnny put the video record on a dresser and went to get a rug "With your tongue." johnny stopped mid-step "What?" he turned to look at Elvis in pure disbelief "Clean. Her. With your tongue. Now." your boyfriend gulped and nodded, rushing to get in between your legs. His tongue dragged up your clenching opening, catching your and Elvis's mixed cum on his tastebuds, johnny squeezed his eyes shut as he sucked and licked your cunt clean of cum.

Johnny winced moving from your legs, his cheeks got with embarrassment and humiliation "Can I go now?" he asked looking at the floor, "Sure go ahead," Elvis smiled, wiping his face with a wet rug from the bathroom, "Tell anybody about and I'll kill ya" Elvis whispered, grabbed his arm on his way out, johnny's face paled and he nodded fearfully as Elvis jerked his arm away, once he was free, he ran straight home. Elvis walked over and smiled at your passed-out form, cleaning your pussy with the other side of the rag, and laid beside you "I love ya lil' mama." he kissed your forehead, he was of course, gonna call his Memphis Mafia to deal with your sad excuse of a 'boyfriend' but for right now it was just him and you.

Just how he liked it.

@kiankiwi @18lkpeters @louisejoy86 @chasingwildflowers @crash-and-cure @plasticfantasticl0ver @galaxygirl453 @edgeofrealitys-blog, @flwersgarden.

[basilbots]

That's it? That's the conclusion for these characters? That was just retroactively making multiple arcs feel pointless.

So they killed Nexus. Not really a surprise, but not any less disappointing. We have Nexus' entire story now, and it is extremely unsatisfying, New Moon having so much promise and an interesting direction for his character only for that same character to be quickly assassinated for the sake of Old Moon returning. Full rant undercut. Primarily making this just to vent out a lot (but not all because there's too much to talk about) of my feelings regarding Nexus.

Let's start with just New Moon, I'm going to admit I did not like the concept of him first. But not actually because I disliked NM as a character, but because Old Moon's death bothered me. It felt like OM was so bad that they didn't want to go through the effort of having him improve, so he was killed off instead so he didn't have to do any of that, escaping responsibility. We'll get back to that point later. However NM itself was fun, and I especially enjoyed seeing all the struggles that came from OM's existence how it influenced his relationship with Sun how NM tried so hard to not be like him while also having to fill that role.

And then Solar died, and New Moon spiraled in his grief. He was devastated, he felt like he had to fix it, nightmares and hallucinations prevented him from moving on, and he understandably lashed out at the others when they tried to stop him for a reason that boiled down to "but killing is bad though". Let it be clear that yes yelling at his family was bad and hurt them, but painful arguments in family esp when fueled by grief like this is a normal thing, and tbh nothing NM said was worse than things OM had done not out of grief but just out of anger. Which makes the fact this was treated as a huge deal that meant NM was being cut out of the family for worrying, and later on EXTREMELY worrying when they pushed the idea of KILLING him. What the fuck. For what, because he was Planning on doing something morally grey that Unintentionally could have greater spanning consequences? You can't just stop him normally we have multiple characters pushing for murder when we just established that murder is bad? This whole execution of NM being terrible and so big a threat that killing him was on the table is so forced and rushed, I hoped it was just a fumble of an execution to get to Nexus who would have a better arc, but now I can't help but feel that they were just trying to get rid of NM regardless of if it made sense. Because at this point he hadn't really done anything to warrant this, not up until the last moment when he didn't care about Earth being in the line of fire, which we immediately see him regretting in the next ep until Dark Sun comes along and any regret has "mysteriously" vanished.

Dark Sun is a great example of Nexus' development being littered with hints that things are not as they seem and that Nexus' downward spiral is being influenced by something,,, which never gets seriously addressed as to why Nexus happened. From the start NM's descent is called sudden and extreme, we see Dark Sun obviously manipulate the situation to make this all happen, we see Nexus' head literally being messed with by Dark Sun, Nexus starts messing with a power known to be corrupting, etc. Is any of this ever treated as a potential reason or Nexus' behavior? Nope! He's just evil sorry. We shot down the idea of a virus or Rex infecting him while pointedly ignoring nsp potentially affecting his mental state or Dark Sun clearly manipulating him. Let's just ignore how much this switch up doesn't make sense because we need to make Nexus feel irredeemable and that he did all this himself for Old Moon to come back.

Because oh yeah Old Moon came and even though he sucks he became the better option even before Nexus did anything because ??? it's been a long time so we have all forgotten how bad you were. Mr beats his brother regularly, literally threatened to murder Sun for not being able to control Eclipse, last moments with Sun was trapping him in a box and wrecking his mental state further. Yeah that guy has been treated as better than New Moon ever since NM yelled at Sun and Earth y'know when he had barely done shit. The point I made about how I felt like Old Moon's death was a way for him to get out of improving himself? Yeah that's validated now, because OM is successfully doing that even more egregiously than I feared originally. He literally got to swoop in as the better option not because he had actually improved himself, but because time has made us forget how bad he was and Nexus is being cartoonishly evil in comparison. I hate this. And now with Nexus dead and Old Moon for sure staying around I can't help but feel like New Moon's existence was,,, pointless. A year's worth of character development from one of our main protagonists down the drain because it was all just a buffer of NM doing the work of improving as a brother for OM. New Moon's gone and Old Moon has taken his place as totally improved Moon brother, but we've swapped out the identity struggle with NM to OM failing to not be a dick to Sun multiple times. But this has yet to be addressed because it's small potatoes and unlike with Nexus he's only doing this to Sun so who cares right? I would say New Moon's personal issues also end up never addressed, but they do actually! All of his fears regarding his place in the family came true, but he's dead so who is going to talk about that now.

I could go on about how much Nexus did not do enough to earn his death, that having Nexus' main targets being Ruin and Old Moon while he didn't hurt his family nearly as much did the opposite of make him feel irredeemable, that Moon being the main protagonist pushing for Nexus to die while everyone else had conflicted feelings did not make me cheer for Moon it made me want to see Sun punch him, but I'm going to refrain and focus on how Nexus' being dead and gone ruins arcs for me. So New Moon was pointless and just a set up to make Old Moon look better when he came back, but surely Nexus did something for Dark Sun's plans? ... Dark Sun didn't have any plan beyond making Sun kill Nexus, and left with an air of finality that even for a chronic liar makes me doubt he'll come back in the capacity I want him to? Oh. So the Nexus arc didn't have a point either, and Dark Sun feels lackluster if this was really it. Nexus was just a spare Moon for Sun to kill against his will, and since Dark Sun doesn't seem interested in using that as a way to personally manipulate Sun further into hating Moon's or anything like that Sun is just going to be sad he killed his brother… Just like he was when Old Moon originally died. If I were to be extremely pessimistic and oversimplifying things I'd say this just further proves New Moon shouldn't have been a thing at all, they should have just waited a bit for OM to be revived after he died to have this same effect with Sun mourning.

The thing that will (just barely) save New Moon/Nexus for me, the thing I wanted to wait to see the follow up for (before I realized this rant was too long already and got impatient), is how his death personally affects the characters. All of them. He needs to haunt the narrative for the rest of the story just like Old Moon was doing. Nexus was not just an antagonist, he was not just the obligatory villain of the arc that got fumbled as has happened before, he was our main character for a year, he was their brother for a year, and he should be remembered as such. The family should remember their young brother that they failed (because they do admit they made mistakes with Nexus even if it wasn't the leading cause to his fall) who will never come back, and he should not be completely forgotten in a months time just because Old Moon is here to be the good Moon brother now and Nexus died a villain. If no one cares to remember him, who he was, then what was the point of him?

[mochasenby]

𝚂𝚒𝚗 𝙽𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚂𝚘 𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍

_________________

Valeria Garza x F!Reader Y/n was assigned to watch over the war criminal and drug trafficker, Valeria Garza. While keeping watch, Y/n notices that Valeria seems to be interested in her. A little too much. She refuses to give in to Valeria's tempting words. It looks like Valeria will have to use some force. Tags: Knifeplay, Pet Names, Cunnilingus, Edging

Find more on Ao3!

"Where's the other missile?" Ghost snapped as Valeria didn't respond, a smug smirk on her lips. 

"She's not going to say shit," Alejandro hissed, throwing his hands up in frustration. Valeria watched as the men barked and snapped at one another like pathetic dogs.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs to get comfortable-- When the door swung open. And entered the most ethereal woman Valeria had ever seen. 

Valeria's eyes stared intensely at the woman as she made her way through the room, just stopping beside Alejandro.

"That's enough. It's been hours since this interrogation started. Take a break," She spoke, her voice soft yet authoritative. The men looked at one another, scowls on their faces.

"Watch her, Y/n. And don't let her try and smooth talk you; she's a witch," Alejandro hissed, squeezing Y/n's shoulder firmly. To others, it would've looked like a warning gesture. But not to Valeria. 

Valeria's gaze locked with Y/n's. Y/n felt a slight shudder run down her spine from the intensity of Valeria's look. The room cleared out one by one until only the two women remained. Y/n adjusted her weapon, sliding it over her shoulder before leaning against the wall.

"I don't think we've met," Valeria spoke suddenly, her eyes slowly taking in Y/n's figure.

"I don't typically meet with the cartel. Gives a bad reputation," Y/n replied before wincing at her words. They were the truth, but she didn't mean for them to come out that harsh.

Valeria's lips twitch upwards.

"I have my reasons," Valeria uttered, her gaze darkening. Another shudder ran down Y/n's spine. The look in Valeria's eyes was hungry. 

It was a look that Y/n often got when she jogged around the base in her sports attire. But for some reason, Valeria's gaze wasn't unwelcomed. 

Y/n couldn't help but stare as well. Valeria is gorgeous. Yet what drew her in the most was her eyes. Despite all the years of training, Y/n felt like she was about to melt. 

"Why'd they assign you to watch over me, cariño?" Valeria asked, her head tilting to the side with a smirk.

"Did they think I'd spill everything to you?" She laughed as Y/n shrugged, crossing her arms.

"Possibly. Perhaps they thought placing a woman with you would make you feel more comfortable speaking to me," Y/n said as Valeria leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Perhaps they're right," Valeria uttered, her gaze dropping to Y/n's figure. "Dime algo. How long have you and Alejandro been close?" She spoke, her voice just above a whisper.

 "What?" The question took Y/n off guard. "No seas tímida, cariño," Valeria mocked, a smirk moving to her face again. 

"I saw that look he gave you before he left. He used to be such a wild man, I guess he hadn't changed," Valeria spoke, her eyes drinking in Y/n's reaction.

Y/n's face seemed to lose its composure. Her body language changed from collected and calm to embarrassed.

"Alejandro and I have nothing going on between us," Y/n defended as Valeria crossed her arms, clicking her tongue with fake disappointment.

"Mentirosa." She uttered as Y/n looked away. "My relationship with him is professional. And it's none of your concern."

"It is when I noticed that shudder of disgust you did when he touched you," Valeria mocked as Y/n's eyes widened. 

"How did you--?" 

"I notice lots of things, cariño. Rage, deception, disgust... And desire." Valeria uttered.

"You poor thing, how long have you gone unsatisfied?" She fake pouted, cocking her head to the side. Y/n was caught even more off guard. "I don't-- Why are--- What--?" Y/n uttered, trying to comprehend what was happening.

"I am satisfied with my love life."

"Are you?" Valiera challenged. "Eyes don't lie, cariño. And neither does the face. Right now, I can hear all those thoughts in your pretty head," She cooed as Y/n looked away. 

Valeria was right. No matter how often she tried to force herself to fall for Alejandro's charm, she couldn't. No one had ever made her feel so giddy or anxious. 

Except for the woman in front of her.

Y/n quickly cleared her throat. "This is inappropriate," She declared.

"¿Lo es? Creo que estás mintiendo, preciosa," Valeria cooed once more, making Y/n's face heat up. "Please stop--"

"Or what? What's wrong with just a little flirting?" Valeria interrupted as Y/n looked away. She couldn't look at Valeria anymore. She feared if she did, she fall for the charm that Alejadnro had warned her about.

"I don't think you should look away from your captive. It's a way you get eaten."

Valeria moved silently, swiftly pinning her in place. Y/n's eyes widened in shock. 

"Get off of me," Y/n whispered, quickly writhing in her grasp before freezing as Valeria held a knife to her throat. The rough tip lightly dragged across her skin, just barely nipping.

Valeria tsked in disapproval, scolding Y/n as if she was a child. "I admire your bravery. Pero estás jugando con fuego, mi amor." Her voice dripped with a mix of danger and desire, her accent adding an enticing edge to her words.

Her fingers danced along the knife handle, a silent promise of the pain she could inflict.

"Tell me," she whispered, her voice low and husky, "Do you enjoy being pushed to your limits? Do you crave the thrill of surrendering control to someone who knows exactly what you need?" Her tone held a hint of challenge.

"I don't need it," Y/n uttered. "I'm loyal to the task force," She whispered, eyes darting across Valeria's face.

"Well, we all have our loyalties, don't we?" Valeria cooed, her fingers tracing a slow path along the curve of Y/n's jaw.

"But tell me, my little rebel," Valeria continued, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, "What if I were to show you a different kind of loyalty? A loyalty that fulfills your deepest desires that pleases you beyond anything you've ever known?"

She pulled her hand back, the knife glinting in the dim light. With a swift motion, she pressed the cool metal against Y/n's cheek, the sharp edge just barely grazing her sensitive skin.

"Would you surrender to me, let me unleash the desires that burn within you?" she asked, her voice a dangerous melody.

"Or would you continue to resist, clinging to your precious task, denying yourself the pleasure within your reach?" 

An ache began to form between Y/n's legs, one that started burning the second Valeria's eyes locked onto her body. "So?" Valeria uttered, stopping her blade just a few centimeters away from Y/n's face.

Y/n stared at Valeria in shock, weighing her options. The task force had always treated her kindly. Yet she was unhappy. The communication was excellent, yet she was constantly overshadowed. She wasn't as unique as the other women they partnered with. She wasn't extraordinary, yet the way Valeria looked at her like she was the last meal on earth made her squirm.

Valeria could see the conflict in Y/n's eyes, the war between the desire to flee and the intrigue that held her captive. She knew she had awakened something within her, a curiosity and longing that couldn't be easily ignored. 

"Is it so wrong to want, preciosa?" She uttered as Y/n met her gaze.

"Fuck it," She whispered as Valeria's lips smirked.

"Good girl." Y/n's breath hitched, feeling the blade trace down her chest, stopping over her military vest. "You don't need it. Take it off." Valeria commanded darkly. 

Y/n's hands twitched, slowly reaching beneath her vest. "The cameras, they'll see--"

"As if I'd let them," Valeria uttered before clicking her tongue, making a clock-like sound. "Go on," She commanded, bringing the knife closer.

Valeria watched with hooded eyes as the vest dropped to the floor. Her eyes drank at the sight of the exposed skin, how Y/n's muscles flexed with each movement.

"Good girl," she purred, her voice a mix of satisfaction and approval. She leaned in closer, the cold blade of the knife still pressed against her throat.

She moved the blade slowly and deliberately, tracing it along the contours of Y/n's chest, feeling the rise and fall of her breath beneath her touch. The cold metal sent shivers down Y/n's spine, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through her veins.

Leaning close, Valeria's voice dropped to a low, husky whisper.

"Do you feel that, mi amor?" she murmured. "The thrill of the blade, the anticipation of what it can do. How it can bring both pleasure and pain."

The blade continued its slow descent, inching lower and lower, tracing a tantalizing path along Y/n's body. She could feel the tension building in the air, the anticipation thickening with each passing moment.

The knife reached the waistband of Y/n's pants, hovering there momentarily, teasingly close to her most intimate areas. Valeria's eyes locked onto hers, her gaze filled with dominance and desire.

With a swift motion, she slid the blade under the waistband, cutting away the fabric and exposing the most vulnerable and sensitive parts to her hungry gaze. Y/n gasped as her pants fell to the floor with a soft rustle.

The cool air caressed her skin as Valeria's warm palms dragged across her thighs. Valeria's eyes roamed hungrily over Y/n's exposed form, taking in the sight of her in nothing but her panties. The curve of her hips and the tantalizing hint of what lay beneath sent a surge of desire coursing through Valeria's veins.

She stepped closer, her hand gently tracing along the waistband of your panties, teasingly tugging at it. "These are in the way."

With a slow, deliberate motion, Valeria hooked her fingers into the sides of Y/n's panties and pulled them down, allowing them to pool at her feet. Valeria's eyes feasted upon Y/n's exposed sex, glistening with arousal.

She slowly ran a finger along the delicate folds, relishing how Y/n's body trembled beneath her touch. Her touch was firm yet gentle, exploring the contours of Y/n's sex with a possessive intent.

"You're so wet, mi amor," Valeria whispered, her voice filled with satisfaction and desire. "Your body craves my touch. It yearns for the pleasure that only I can give." She whispered, bringing her lips to Y/n's neck. 

She nipped at the skin before slowly sliding her long fingers into Y/n's folds. Y/n's hips bucked as soft moans left her lips. Valeria maintained her steady rhythm, her fingers expertly exploring and caressing.

Her smirk deepened as she watched Coli's hips grind against her fingers, the desire and need evident in her actions. Valeria reveled in the power she held over her, relishing in the control she exerted.

"You're so needy for me, cariño," Valeria whispered in a husky voice, her eyes burning with desire.

Valeria's fingers delved deeper, parting the folds and finding Y/n's swollen clit. She circled the sensitive bud with deliberate and skilled movements, applying the right amount of pressure to send waves of pleasure through Y/n's body. Y/n's head fell back, her eyes squeezed shut. 

"Fuck--" Y/n cried, broken moans and gasps leaving her lips. Her legs began to shake, her folds tightening around Valeria's fingers. She was so close.

But Valeria was not one to grant release so quickly. She wanted to push Y/n to the edge, to make her beg and plead for that sweet release that lingered just out of reach. Her fingers continued their relentless assault on Y/n's sensitive clit, alternating between gentle strokes and firm pressure.

"Not yet, mi amor," she whispered, her voice filled with satisfaction and dominance.

"Tell me how badly you want to come," she commanded, her voice dripping with authority. "Beg for it, preciosa. Tell me how much you need my touch."

"Please--" Y/n wailed, her body shuddering as her eyes filled with tears. "Please-- Valeria-- I'll do anything. I'll join the cartel or fuck ever just please---" Y/n pleaded as Valeria's lips twitched upwards. Y/n groaned as Valeria withdrew her fingers from within her. 

Valeria slowly moved onto her knees, looking up at Y/n with a sly smirk. Y/n's eyes went wide as Valeria's knife dragged across her thigh.

"I want you to spread your legs wider," Valeria commanded, her voice firm and authoritative. "I want you to show me just how much you crave my touch, how far you're willing to go for that release."

Valeria pressed the blade against Y/n's inner thigh, a gentle pressure sending a jolt of fear and desire coursing through her body. 

"Keep your eyes on me," Valeria whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "And show me just how obedient you can be, how well you can follow my commands."

Y/n swallowed thickly and spread her legs wider. Valeria's eyes drank in the sight, her hunger growing with each moment.

"Now, touch yourself," she commanded, her voice filled with dominance and desire. "Show me how badly you want that release."

Y/n obeyed, fingers trembling as they made contact with her sensitive clit, her touch light and teasing. She circled her fingers in slow, deliberate motions, her breath hitching with each stroke. The pleasure coursing through her veins was undeniable, but the presence of Valeria, watching her with lustful eyes, heightened the moment's intensity.

With a clang, the knife fell to the floor. Valeria's hands reached up, hooking on both Y/n's thighs to keep them apart. Valeria leaned forward and pressed the flat of her tongue onto Y/n's clit. Y/n's hips instantly bucked at the sensation, her fingers stopping momentarily. 

"Fuck--" She let out a shaky moan as Valeria tsked.

"Did I say stop?" She uttered darkly as Y/n shook her head, slowly moving her fingers again. 

Valeria smirked, bringing her tongue back to Y/n's folds. Y/n wailed in pleasure as Valeria's skilled tongue lapped at her core, teasing and tasting her with deliberate intent. Valeria's smirk grew more expansive, relishing in how Y/n's body responded to her touch and how her moans filled the air.

Valeria's tongue danced across Y/n's sensitive flesh, exploring every crevice and curve, leaving no inch untouched. She reveled in how Y/n's body writhed beneath her, and her hips arched for more pleasure.

Her tongue flicked against Y/n's clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting through her body. 

Y/n's legs trembled, tears of pleasure streaming down her face as babbles left her lips. Valeria delved deeper, her tongue flicking and swirling against Y/n's clit relentlessly. She could feel the tension building in Y/n's body, the waves of pleasure crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Y/n's cries of ecstasy filled the room as her orgasm washed over her, her body convulsing with each wave of pleasure. Valeria continued to lap at her folds, prolonging her pleasure until she was wholly spent. Y/n shrieked, her hands attempting to pull Valeria away, but a warning glare made her stop.

Y/n could only shake and sob as Valeria patted her tongue over her clit. The pleasure burned as her wails increased. 

As the aftershocks of pleasure subsided, Valeria slowly pulled away, a satisfied smile on her lips. 

But their session was far from over. With a glint of mischief in her eyes, Valeria whispered, "That was just the beginning, mi amor. There's so much more pleasure in store for you."

[scuddisher]

LET'S GET IN THE BACK OF YOUR COP CAR, OFFICER.

Steve had found you working so many times, was so diligent about turning a blind eye and letting you walk away—but this time he had to make a report, unless you could convince him otherwise.

RATING — MATURE & EXPLICIT (18+) PAIRING — steve murphy x sex-worker! gender-neutral reader GENRE(S) — one-shot, smut. WORD COUNT — 2.7k WARNINGS — mature content, pet-names used: honey & baby, a bit of dark! steve murphy, quick plot & ending. SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, multiple references to sex work, oral (reader receiving), quickie, unprotected intercourse, creampie, exhibitionism (semi-public spot) RELEASE DATE — MARCH 22ND 2024

AUTHOR’S NOTE — this man is rotting my brain so you guys have to rot with me. need him carnally. also yes I've had the song the title is from stuck in my head with scenes of him on repeat. save me fictional steve murphy.

His cologne engulfed you first, telling you exactly who was behind you. His hand on your shoulder turned your skin from smooth to bumpy with chills just before he spoke. “Haven't I told you to get a better career?”

You were used to Steve Murphy’s smartass comments tossed aimlessly, especially in trying times like the situation he found you in. Leaving the bed of a man who paid—someone Murphy was out hunting down and just-so-happened to find you with—all while unsatisfied and disappointed in such a rich man who played up his sex-life like he ran the bunnies at the playboy mansion.

“He doubled his pay just to get me here.” You sighed, a tell that Steve knew well.

He knew what happened by the scent of the room he had walked into, thankfully putting a stop to the madness you got yourself in. It was always an older man who picks younger lovers to tame, but as Steve saw your underwear as you lifted them back up your legs—he saw they were dry.

“Such a shame, pretty thing like you comin’ all this way for nothin’.” Steve's eyes wavered, you knew what was bound to happen next. “Especially since I gotta take you in this time.”

Your tongue was between your teeth, attempting to not curse at the man for doing his job. It wouldn't be long before others showed up for this bust.

Peña leaned against the wall with his arms folded and eyes darting between you and the rich man he had just put cuffs on—the numbers in his head already adding up to what Murphy was planning to do. It was a man-in-power advantage, one that had Javier smirking to himself.

Steve's hand had left your shoulder moments ago, the skin still feeling the warmth of his touch. But the solid grip on your upper arm, one that tightened lightly as he pushed you forward to walk with him, that was what truly made your heart skip a beat.

“Let's go downstairs and get you out of the house before any cameras show up trying to catch a glimpse of this guy.” His voice was low as his head moved closer to yours, eyes on Peña while passing him with a nod in response to the ‘alone time’ plea. He knew the drill.

You moved at the same beat as him, legs attempting to take strides similar to his so he couldn't tell how nervous you were. For once, with Steve wearing his badge, you tasted what felt like unfairness of the system.

“Honey—” Voice soft and still as low as before, he spoke. “I really didn't want you doing this shit anymore.”

You heard it, the sound of a man disappointed. Steve had saved your ass nearly three times now, almost four if he hadn't let you slip out the window before anyone else saw you. You knew your time working the streets was coming to a close each time the DEA team was let loose on the customers in the area.

“I thought you said you were looking for more work last time?” His baby blue eyes caused your heart to skip when he turned his head to look into your gaze, his hand on your arm helping you dodge doorways and decor as you made it out the front door and towards his undercover car.

“I was. And I found it.” Your voice was even smaller than his, his grip stopping you right beside the large vehicle just before turning you to face him.

His scent was so loud: cologne, a drink or two from after lunch, the smell of ink from files and paperwork that he had been flipping through until they got a lead stained on his fingertips. It made your head swim. It always did.

The clink of his hand on the car window startled you from staring at him, wishing only to close your eyes and take in having him so close. And he was close—so close with his eyes on you and only you, that his voice made your body vibrate with every word. “You know I don't have any more ‘get out of jail free cards’ right? Your DNA is gonna be on that guy when we run him through the system. There's no getting out of this one.”

His body leaned into yours, almost pressing you into the black SUV like you were part of the paint. Steve's eyes were filled with a glaze that could only be a lack of sleep and a buzz from his earlier drinks, matching the scent of liquor on his breath as he breathed on you softly.

“M-Murphy…” You squeaked, wanting to fade into him and feel every muscle and scar along his skin. “Can't you do something? Anything?”

You saw the flash in his eyes. The way his tongue poked from his mouth to lick his lips. His eyes darting behind your head and to his own reflection in the tinted back window of the car.

It was only for a moment, the click of the door handle and the breeze of the back door opening—Steve’s eyes never leaving yours. “Get in the back.”

Your skin felt the leather as you shuffled into the car, the backseat big and welcoming compared to most vehicles you've been in the back of along with the rough slam of your door being shut. His cologne hit your nose once more, finding you through a waft of air once he made his way into the backseat with you and closed his door.

His jaw was locked, eyes steady adding things in his own mind, that of which you wish you could see or hear. Steve was hardly ever this quiet, always planning something aloud and letting you in—he didn't want to make you feel unsafe around him.

But this—this was different. You were a link in his finding, a witness in his case that could cause you to have to be taken to the station and questioned—and not just for being involved with a rich criminal like your client. Being known as a solicitor would ruin your reputation. It would open you up to a world of all the ruined cops constantly trying to take advantage of those they take in. And even worse, put your name in the eyes of the big men who actually run this city—men way over Steve Murphy’s head.

The sound of his breathing speeding up made your fingers shake, gripping at the clothes you wore to try and hold onto something. “Officer Murphy?”

His name rolling off your tongue made his head snap in your direction, blue irises darker in the dim streetlights far outside from the car you sat in.

The few times you had called him that, you were truly scared. Eyes jittering in your head, hands running cold from anxiety, chest heaving with every breath you took. It was hard for him to look away—almost impossible, and all he could do was scoot closer to you until you were between him and the door.

Little to no room to move around, his scent so deep in your nose that you could almost taste him—and his lips captured yours. Kiss soft, promising, and fulfilling of everything you didn't get in that room upstairs in one swift motion, you moaned into his harsh taste until you felt his tongue trying to lick at your own.

His hand moved from his thigh to your neck, fingers pressing into your warm skin and recreating the same chills he felt rise on your body earlier. You could feel the twinge of his smirk in the kiss, but you fell so deep into his touch that you could hardly focus on anything else.

The groan he released was loud when your hand moved onto his leg, feeling at his rough jeans that ran too right in his crotch at times like these. Something that had never seemed to cross your mind, ending up in such a position as this—Steve desperate to touch you, you desperate to get out of this mess—it almost had you crawling on top of him.

And right as the idea popped into your mind, your hand grazed his hard-on just in time to know how badly he wanted you. He hardly got a noise out, “Fuck.” being the only thing he said.

But it wasn't what was in his head. It wasn't the idea that had made his tongue lick his lips or his eyes catch a glimpse of the black car that would hide your heated bodies doing sinful acts.

His touch turned warmer as his hand on your neck slid down your front, feeling at all the parts of you he knew he'd get sounds out of. The most beloved sound, one he had dreamed of hearing, was that of the wetness he felt as his hand slipped into your underwear.

Your eyes rolling back at just a hint of friction had him pulling back from your mouth just to watch. The whites of your eyes were all he could see for a split second, and he had barely started.

Steve seeing you crawling your way out of that king size bed, picking up your dry underwear that showed zero signs of you being the least bit interested in the man you were just in between the sheets with—it made his bottom lip go in between his teeth at the thought.

Before you could blink, his large body was shuffling until his hands took you at your waist and pulled you sideways on the seats. Your lower half was right at his face, his breathing scattered as his eyes gleamed up at you in the soft orange haze of the streetlights all around the driveway of the house. His fingers left your wetness to latch at your underwear, pulling that and your pants down past your knees.

Your glistening body has his eyes glassy, drool nearly pooling from his lips as they quivered and tried to form a sentence. It wasn't forever ago when you noticed his ring had gone missing. It wasn't even a month ago that he had found you again, his grip on you tight as he walked you out—he held himself back like a gentleman all this time—but now he was a starved man.

“C-Can I?” His face was darkened, yours lit up in the light. All you could see was him chewing in his bottom lip in anticipation before you nodded.

And that was all he needed. The plunge into you was more satisfying than you had felt the pleasure of someone else's touch in forever, his tongue wet and lapping and licking like a dehydrated dog to its water bowl.

Your hand covered your mouth as a scream nearly ripped through you, unsure of how sound-proof the vehicle was. His eyes moving up at you to see your eyes rolling back again was enough to have him stirring an orgasm from you at any cost.

All the times he had peeled you away from a man who only wanted his own pleasure, ignoring the fact you looked like a wreck that hadn't actually orgasmed from anything they had done to you—just to end up in the back of his car with him in between your thighs.

His tongue moved against you in waves, his hand and fingers coming into play only minutes later to help push you to your breaking point. “Steve, for the love of God!” You whined into the quiet car, barely being able to call to him over his whimpers and moans as he collected your wetness and swallowed with vigor.

It wasn't until your body began to shake, and an orgasm threatened to roar that the blue and red lights flashed into the car. Steve's cheeks had run pink from his focus and the heat now causing you both to sweat in the confined space.

The man rose up, his hands on his belt trying to loosen the restraint quickly. He could hardly pull his cock out before he saw others moving into the house, his tip pressing at your entrance just in time for you to cling to him and beg. “Stop stalling, Murphy!”

You had nearly bit your tongue at your own words leaving your mouth—they were fuel to his fire. Every inch of him that sunk into you had your nails digging into his shirt on his back, almost causing them to cut through the cotton as you clung to him for dear life. “Oh shit. Oh, shit!”

Steve believed he thought of everything. Knew you were unsatisfied, knew if he got you alone that he could show you a good time. But what he didn't account for was how long it had been since you had been fucked right, your hold on him tight enough to already have his precum spilling into you until he could hear every sound you made when he filled you.

You were whining, no—whimpering, at how much he filled you. How easily he found your spot deep inside your walls, the curve of his cock making you see stars the moment he bottomed out in you.

By now, the car's windows were steamed up. If anyone was actually paying attention—looking hard enough into the SUV’s windows that were clearly a DEA regulated vehicle—they’d see Murphy's hand sliding down the back passenger seat’s window before finding a better hold on the leather seat inside.

You felt him raise his hips, felt the shake of the car each time he jerked them into a deep thrust, and most importantly of all—felt your gummy walls rush with more wetness and vibrate with your orgasm. Shivering, you took hold of his shirt until he was sure that Peña would get a good laugh out of the wrinkles it now holds.

But Steve was a stallion, racing for his own release like the car shaking and almost rattling at his rough thrusts was the last thing on his mind. Your eyes had shut in wonder for when the knock on the window would come, moaned at the feeling of his head falling into your neck to take a deep breath of your scent, and completely went limp feeling his seed gush into you.

“F-Fuck, honey.” His voice was so unstable, hair wet and stuck to his forehead as he tried to catch his breath. “Warn a man that you're as tight as leather pants on a sweaty rockstar before he puts his dick in you.” His words were comical, the smile he wore growing larger on his face as he sat back in the seats and tried to tighty himself up.

You cackled, sitting up and stretching your neck from the harsh position you had been in. Finally, your mind was clearing—but now the entire driveway was filled with cops, and you were still on the scene.

Once your eyes caught Steve's, his face showed more seriousness while he glanced around at the amount of people leering into his case. Someone had talked, gossiped, or corruption spun its web and leaked into Murphy’s current world.

And here you sat, having fucked the lead DEA detective of the case—guilty eyes finding his again.

“You'll still be found out when he gets put into the system…” He claimed, signing as he put an unlit cigarette between his lips. “But as long as I have a hold on it—” He had a way out of this all along. “—I can make it like you were never in the house. You met him somewhere else, maybe for a blowjob or a quickie—hmm?” He spoke with confidence, pulling a lighter from his pocket and lighting the cigarette.

He was going to make it go away, he just wanted to know what all the hype about you truly was. Needless to say, curiosity got the best of him.

“This is your last shift at this job, isn't it?” It wasn't a question, it was a demand—and his voice had turned cold. His breath fanned over your face, blue eyes watching your mouth fall open at his sudden change in demeanor. “Want me to make it all go away, baby?”

© scuddisher — all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not post my content on other sites, especially claiming them as your own! reblogs and feedback are seriously appreciated <3