#perhaps maybe I'm not the only one feeling like that? I can't stand it because it hurts too much and I'm not ready to experience it again

[eldrichthingy]

I really... physically, like literally can't handle Astarion's good ending and I do love it, but I hate how it makes me feel so much pain I can't believe it. That scene when he kills Cazador is so fucking heavy yet yes, catharsic and beautiful, but it's so fucking heavy I could handle seeing it only ONE time and swore that I'll never repeat it again. That's just my own opinion, it breaks my heart and it's truly so well-written, but I hate seeing it. I hate the ending where he's forced to return to living in shadow, I hate when he burns on sun and I hate how companions (mostly) say something rather.. jokingly? I hate how the moment after he finally has true freedom, he's forced to not see the colours of life ever again (untill, of course, the cure is found). Especially in his own origin non-ascended ending. It seems even more... tragic. There are so many moments in this route that just... make me burst into tears. For me, this ending is much heavier and heartbreaking than ascendant one. It's so hard to process for me. Which might be a reason why I prefer ascended Astarion much more - because I don't have to see, experience all that and feel like my heart have been shattered to thousand pieces. For sure, it's very... satisfying? But I personally can't stand it for this simple reason: it's painful. And I'm hurting- like, badly.

[jarofstyles]

Appetency

Okay so we've got a bit of a long one. Kinda enemies to lovers if you blink, fuckboyrry turned softrry, dedication galore, hesitant Y/N and confident H, you're gonna love it. This is the first half- the other half is already up on Patreon and will be here later on 💕

Check out our Patreon for early access to the second half and 200+ exclusive writings

Warnings- slight angst, mentions of anxiety, alcohol, cocky h turned into a loverboy... nothing too crazy in this part.

WC- 8.5k

“Why are you every-fucking-where.” Y/N stopped short, glaring at the man across from her. The entire party, she had been trying to avoid him- but he wasn’t letting that be at all possible.

Harry grinned widely at that, the most obnoxious and infuriatingly pretty smile with those stupid dimples. Leaning against the wall as he studied her for a good moment, there was no hiding the not so casual enjoyment he got out of flustering her. 

Finally, he broke the silence, standing up from his casually cool stance on the wall. She knew he was going to say something that annoyed her and it was proven as he opened his mouth. "C’mon, don’t be like that. Perhaps you just can't keep me off your mind, baby girl. Can’t stop thinking about me, seeing me everywhere…"

“Ew. Do not call me that.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust for the nickname, walking past him. He followed, of course, because he always did. “Just because we have a few similar friends doesn’t mean you need to be at every social event. I’d love a break from your smug face.”

"You can't possibly be getting tired of this handsome face already…" He protested as he followed behind, his words purposely trying to rile her up. Getting a rise out of her seemed to make his whole day, and usually she would laugh it off but this time… things were different. Finding a spot in the kitchen, he watched as she puttered around trying not to look at him. 

His eyes danced with amusement as he added in some more. "Or are you just mad that I always seem to steal the show, love? Not my fault that I'm effortlessly charming and captivating, darling."

“Humble, too.” She snorted, grabbing a drink from the cooler. Buzzballs were not the thing she’d want to choose when she was thinking about the next morning, but they were exactly what she needed when it came to trying to mentally escape right now. “You’re insufferable. Really.” His eyes were on her as she used her nail to pop open the cap. 

“So are you going to leave me alone, or follow me around all night?”

Harry chuckled in amusement at her sarcasm, enjoying the way she rolled your eyes at him. "Leave you alone when you look this lovely? Not a chance in hell, darling." He hummed, tapping his own bottle against the counter. He paid no mind to the new people who entered the space, eyes glued on the girl he was talking to. "But as much as I'd love to keep annoying you, I have a much better way we could spend time. Don't you remember, love?" He purred. “I certainly do. It’s hard to forget the way it feels when you moan-” The interruption was instant, her hand gripping onto him. 

“Harry…” she hissed, tugging his arm further down the dark hallway and into a bedroom. Who’s? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she had seen where this was going, and she didn’t want him to say it too loudly. Everyone was so god damn nosy and respectfully, she didn’t want to deal with any of that. Not after all she had said.

“Listen.” Putting her hands on her hips, she tilted her head up at him as he stood a little too close. “We hooked up, it was a mistake. You know it.” Though it didn’t seem like he thought so considering how he trailed her ever since. “We… we were a little drunk and I was lonely and you were there.” 

Y/N knew she was slightly lying, but she was trying to fool herself. If she said it enough times, maybe she’d believe it. They’d always had chemistry. It was intensity that burned between them, her disdain and his addiction to getting a rise out of her. It was only a matter of time that they’d give into some sort of blow out- but she hadn’t expected it to be as good as it was. It couldn’t happen again. 

Harry had that knowing smirk on his face as she tried to deny it all, knowing exactly where this was headed. The thrill of chasing her, of getting under her skin was intoxicating, addicting. He loved making her growl and huff and glare at him, because it meant getting her undivided attention.

"Was it really a mistake?" He asked as he leaned against the door, finally giving her some breathing room.  "Or have you just been avoiding me because you couldn't stop thinking about it?"

The truth was that he had been thinking about that night ever since. Multiple times. Before he went to sleep, when he was in the shower.. It was hard not to. 

Her jaw clenched, placing her bottle down and crossing her arms. “Look. You’re hot, Harry. You don’t need me to tell you that. You’ve got plenty big of an ego. But I’ve been avoiding you because it can not happen again.” 

Y/N knew that Nina was into Harry and she really didn’t want to start any drama. Not that he even seemed remotely into her, but because she acted like he was someone she had dibs on. As gross as it was, she tended to start shit with anyone Harry pursued and she just wasn’t in the season for drama. There were other things to worry about other than start a feud over a man. 

He had known about Nina's crush on him, but he didn't care about her. He never had, and he never would. As fucked up as it was, what they had, in his mind, was just a harmless flirtation, nothing more. Y/N knew that, but Nina didn’t. He couldn't have been more clear he had no interest in her, but some people took delusion to heart. 

It didn’t matter how good Harry gave it to her last time, how hard her legs shook, how sore she was in the best way. Didn’t matter if his tongue was hot and through and how he’d cleaned her up with it. It couldn’t be repeated.

Harry's smirk only widened as she openly admitted he was attractive, his ego inflating even more. But when she mentioned avoiding him, his smile faltered slightly.

"Why can't it happen again?" He asked, moving closer to her, his eyes darkened. Too close, making her take a deep breath. If there was one thing he would give him, his presence was commanding. Felt. Her body was very familiar with his now, wanting to lean into him, but she fought it.

“Because.” She sighed tiredly. “I really can’t deal with any drama. I’m exhausted, and the last thing I need is that she-devil going after me because she thinks I’m ‘stealing her man.’ “

The man let out a laugh, amused by the comment. Yeah, he knew exactly who she was referring to and found it funny. He knew she could be a drama queen, and he definitely didn't care for her possessive tendencies, but he had told her that they had nothing going on between them and never would.

He stepped closer to her, his greedy hands reaching out to touch her hips, his touch firm. "You're not stealing me, love. She never had me, and she's delusional if she thinks she does." His eyes gleamed with desire as he looked at her, his touch becoming a bit more possessive in his own way. "And I want you, not her."

“Harry, you don’t actually want me.” She groaned in frustration, trying to ignore how her tummy dropped as he pulled her into him, his other hand curling around her jaw. Stupid body, stupid hormones, stupid muscle memory.  “You think you do because you like a chase. You don’t actually like me or anything, you like how I fuck.” She said bluntly, glancing up at him.

Harry's smug expression faltered as she protested. He could feel the annoyance, but he also noticed the way her body responded to his touch. There was no denying that. "Is that what you really think?" He asked, his grip on her jaw tightening slightly as he looked down at her. "That I'm just chasing you only for the thrill of the chase, for the sex?"

His eyes darkened, his other hand moving lower on her hip, pulling her flush against him. He could feel her body against his, the softness, the warmth, and he wanted it all back. There had been no way she could tell him that she hadn’t enjoyed it, considering he’d made her cum 3 times, made her gush all over his cock. She’d clung to him, held onto him, whimpered his name. But he’d taken care of her, he had gotten her some pomegranate juice and a snack, helped her tie her hair up, driven her home. When the contact had been nonexistent, he was hoping she was just making him work for it- but that wasn’t all this was to him.

“Yeah.” She furrowed her brows. “Is it not?” Harry wasn’t the relationship type, not usually. Everyone knew that. Y/N had constantly reminded herself that when they’d first met and she had a bit of a crush on him, only to see that he liked to fuck em’ and leave ‘em. It lost the appeal and she had resented him a bit for it. 

Was it fair? No. She knew that. But their dynamic had been built on that resentment. 

Harry's jaw clenched at her response, frustration and something else flickering in his face. He loosened his grip on her slightly, his gaze searching her eyes, trying to convey something she obviously wasn’t picking up on.

"And what if I told you that you were wrong?" He asked, his voice low. "What if I told you that there's more to me than just chase and sex?" He tilted his face closer to hers, his hand on her hip keeping her snug. He hadn't realized it himself just how touch deprived for her he actually was. Did she really think it was all just… a game? Had he not proven himself to her that night? Granted, he had maybe fucked up in how he communicated after but… the ball had been put in her court. 

He could tell that she was skeptical, but he was determined to make her believe him.

"I want you." He said firmly, his hand on her jaw moving to wrap around the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. "I want everything. Your body, your mind, your heart." His hand on her hip moved lower, his touch a little needy. "And the fact that I can't have you is driving me insane. Want you to believe me."

“But why?” She sputtered. “All we do is argue. All I do is blow you off and all you do is follow me around to piss me off.” 

She had no idea he had his own fascination with her. How he’d silently watched her, observed, saw how she was with other people and wanted that chance to feel that. To have one of those smiles for himself.

Harry shook his head with a light laugh, his grip on her flexing slightly as he stared down at the girl he had been playing cat and mouse with. "Because I'll take the arguing, the blowoffs, all of it, just to be near you. I don't know when it truly started, but you've gotten under my skin, love." He pushed her back against the door, his body pressed against hers, trapping the girl. Looking down at her, his eyes were dark with desire, with honesty. It was a little unsettling.

“Harry.” She swallowed, eyes fluttering as his fingers stroked over her jaw and down over her throat, tenderness tinging the touches. “It’s not funny if this is a joke. It’s not.”

Harry's let out a tired breath, his touch gentle as he stroked her delicate skin, taking advantage of every touch. He could see that vulnerability in her eyes, and it only made him more determined to prove himself. "M’not joking. " He said firmly. "This is serious, I want you, and m’not giving up until I have you."

“Then you’re gonna have to work for it.” She exhaled sharply, pushing out of his hold and escaping back towards the party.

Y/N was almost fooled into giving in again- but she could give in without a real, true idea of what he was dedicated to. Maybe it was cruel of her to try and write him off as a bit of a slut trying his luck, but she’d never been awarded the chance to get to know him outside of their usual dynamic. 

That was why, the next day, seeing him on her front porch had her gasping in surprise. “Shit!” She yelped, keys falling to the wood below her. 

He looked good. The night of sleep seemed to refresh him, he’d showered, and he was bright eyed this morning. Determined. Why? She didn’t know. But this was not at all what she had expected when opening her front door. “ You scared the fuck out of me. What are you doing here?”

"Good morning, love." He greeted her. “Nice to see you this mornin’. You look gorgeous.” That cheeky fucking grin, as usual, tilted on his mouth. 

She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow in question. "You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?"

Harry flashed her a grin, completely unfazed by her skepticism.  "I'm here to see you, of course." He said, as if it was obvious. “Silly thing.”

“Why?” She didn’t want to get too huffy with him but he was nearly speaking in riddles and she didn’t have the patience for that. “Are you alright?”

Of course he was amused at how frustrated she looked, finding her impatience obviously endearing. Maybe it was just her, though. Y/N was a bit of a weakness of his, he found. Pushing himself up the final step, he grabbed her keys and handed them back to her, making no effort to pull his hands away from her own. 

"I'm fine, love." He hummed casually. "I just wanted to see you." Holding her hands in his, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on the skin. Casual intimacy that slightly caught her off guard.

The girl merely looked at him in confusion.  The plan for today had been to go to the grocery shop and do stuff around the house, not entertain the man who had admitted to wanting her last night- but she knew if he was here, it meant he was determined to get his way.

Aka, spending time with her. 

“Okay.. So now you saw me.” She said lowly. “Do you want to go home now?”

The sight of her looking so flustered and on edge fueling his determination, he shook his head.  "Not yet." He said, his voice low and firm. "M’not leaving until I get some of your time."

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep inhale through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. Meditative breathing did wonders, it seemed. Usually. She knew Harry well enough to know that he wasn’t going to let this go. He was going to keep prodding until he understood that he probably had no actual intention of being around her long term. He was looking at her with metaphorical sex goggles on. Yeah, she was good in bed, but that was only a tiny portion of her. 

He’d learn eventually.

“Well, I have to go to the store. So…”

Harry watched you closely as she opened her eyes from the attempting to calm herself. It was a little unnerving to know she needed to calm down from such a simple interaction but then again, he had been coming on a little strong. It was his nature, but he tried to relax his stance a bit. No way was he going to let an opportunity to spend time with her be wasted. He was dedicated now, wanting to win her over.  "You're going to the store?" He leaned in closer. “Looks like I'll just have to come with you, then."

Y/N sputtered as he took her handbag and totes from her, tucking them under his arm as the other held her hand. 

“C’mon.” He said smugly, pulling her towards his car. She followed, confused at how he had just agreed to go grocery shopping with her. Willingly. It wasn’t something he liked doing and she knew that- she somehow had found out one night that he had his delivered- but he seemed eager to do this with her. 

The last thing she expected was for him to open the passenger door and help her inside, but he did. Like it was second nature, opening it up and taking her hand to aid her into sitting sound, placing her bags on her lap.

Harry's smirk widened as he scooped up her handbag and totes, his grip on your hand firm as he guided her towards his car. He snickered under her breath at her sputtered protest, enjoying her disbelief that he was actually willing to go grocery shopping with her. Like it was some sort of hardship.

Once he had settled her in, he leaned in closer, the smell of cinnamon gum filling her senses. Keeping his stance, his eyes locked on her, his gaze intense. He could see the confusion in her eyes, and it only fueled his determination to make it second nature to her, to expect this sort of thing from him. . 

"You look cute this morning." He said, his voice low and smooth. "Did you get much sleep last night?" He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle.

Her cheeks felt hot as he tenderly touched her, the softness of it all surprising her. “Um… I did.” The compliment had flustered her too. It wasn’t something she was used to from him. Their usual dynamic was tense on her end and being a pain in the ass with a stupid smirk on his. This sort of treatment was new to her. 

“Thanks. You look….” It felt unnatural to compliment him, but she meant it. Strangely enough. All of this was so new to her.  “Nice.”

Harry chuckled at the slight hesitation in her words, enjoying the way she was thrown off by his tenderness. One day she was going to accept it.  He smiled at her attempt at a compliment, narrowing his gaze at her. "Just nice?" He teased, raising an eyebrow.  He placed a light hand on her knee, his thumb stroking her skin in small circles, his touch gentle and comforting.

“Well, handsome? I dunno.” She grumbled. “Just so you know, you’re carrying all the grocery bags. If you insist on coming along you need to be useful.”

"Oh, I can be very useful, love. You jus’ need to find out what else I can off s’all." He said, his hand continuing its caressing on her knee, his touch sending a little jolt through her body "And don’t worry, I’ll carry all the bags. You just worry about picking out what you need."

Harry could see the doubt in her eyes as he reassured her about carrying the bags, and he knew he had to prove it. Not just that, but the whole thing. He hadn’t won her over quite yet, but he would. 

Removing his hand from her knee, he ignored how much he missed the touch and stood up straight, standing tall and strong next to the car. 

"You don’t believe me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Just watch, sweetheart. Gonna shock the shit out of you."

——-

Y/N was suspicious. 

Harry was… behaving. More than, actually. He was being sweet and polite, borderline charming. Standing beside her as she pushed the cart, grabbing the items at the top shelves, not rushing her at all. He was flirty, sure, but nothing insane that truly made her roll her eyes at him. His voice was soft spoken and held only a tiny bit of the arrogance it usually did… and she liked it.

Who the fuck was this? And what had they done with the normal Harry? 

“You’re freaking me out a little.” She mumbled, checking off another thing on her list. “Like, you’re being pleasant. That’s not normal for you.”

"What, I can't be pleasant sometimes?" He teased, giving her a look. 

He couldn't help but grin as he watched her check off another item on the grocery list, his eyes roaming freely over her focused expression. He was enjoying this, he realized, enjoying the chance to be close to her more than he would have ever expected. "Maybe I’m just in a good mood today." He said, leaning against the cart.

“It’s just suspicious.” She glanced at him from the side of her eye. “You’re always following me around and trying to get me to snap at you. So excuse me for being a little confused when you’re acting so normal and nice.”

Harry liked working her up and getting reactions out of her, but he liked her. Y/N gave him the tummy butterflies, the excitement, the hot cheeks, all of it. She just didn’t know that- or was heavily in denial. It was his fault, he knew, from never expressing how serious the desires were and expecting her to read between the lines. But fuck, could she blame him? Y/N was a spitfire.

“Can you- fuck.” She groaned. “This can not get any worse.” 

Across the aisle, she saw her. Nina. Glaring at the scene of Harry standing a little too close to Y/N, doing a domestic activity like shopping together… It looked like they were way more than friends. This wasn’t something he liked doing and of course, the other girl would know that… So the situation didn’t look too good.

Harry could feel the shift in her mood as she spotted Nina across the aisle, and he tensed up slightly, ready for the inevitable confrontation.  Fuck, and they’d been doing so good. Of course, someone had to throw him a curveball. 

Good thing he was willing to work for this. 

"Relax." He said quietly, his hand squeezing her shoulder reassuringly, thumbing over the fabric. "I'll handle it."

Harry could feel the tension in her body as he held onto her, knowing that she was on edge. He knew Nina could be a handful, and he didn't want her to add to the stress of the situation. Especially after Y/N was seemingly warming up to him.

He took a deep breath and turned to her, his expression neutral but firm. 

"Nina." He said, his voice calm and steady- almost bored. "Why are you glaring at us like that?”

Nina’s eyes flicked between the pair, her expression hardening as she spoke. “What are you two doing?” She asked, her voice dripping with disdain. 

Harry kept his expression neutral, his hand on Y/N unmoving as he spoke to her. “We’re shopping. Is that a crime?” He replied, his tone cool.

Nina’s lip curled up in a sneer, her eyes narrowing. "Shopping? Is that all?" She asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Awfully domestic, isn’t it?”

Harry chuckled, unruffled by her attitude. "Yes, Nina. We’re just picking up some groceries. Is that so hard to believe?" he challenged, letting her try and intimidate him. It wasn’t going to work. 

The girl’s jaw clenched as Harry responded to her, clearly annoyed at the lack of reaction she was getting from him. 

She took a step closer, sizing Y/N up with an unpleasant expression. She really needed to not make that face- it was unflattering.  “Is this a date or something?” She snapped, her eyes flickering over to Harry.

Harry chuckled at Nina’s question, finding her assumption humorous. 

He looked over at the girl he wished would say yes, his eyes filled with amusement. "What do you think, love?” He taunted.  Maybe it wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but he didn’t particularly care. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. This wasn’t what she wanted out of this interaction. Hell- she never wanted his interaction at all. “We’re shopping.” She said lowly. “And we have to go.”

Nina pursed her lips as her response, clearly unsatisfied with the answer she was given. She never could leave well enough alone. Harry could see her gearing up for another snarky comment, so he quickly interjected. 

"She’s right." He said, his tone firm. “We do have to go. Bye."  There was no hint of remorse on his face as he motioned for her to get out of the way. 

With that, he guided Y/N forward, steering both her and the cart towards the checkout area.

“Christ.” Y/N rubbed her temples. “She’s gonna try and burn my house down. I know it.” She sulked.

Harry chuckled at the outburst. He continued steering the cart towards the checkout area as she went back over the list, a small smile on his lips. 

"Don't be so overdramatic." He teased. "She's not gonna burn down your house. She's just jealous."

“Harry, she’s scared like, 4 women away from hanging out anywhere near you completely.” Y/N sighed. “I know you don’t see it as much, but she’s tenacious. I don’t know what’s going to get her to stop, but you need to actually have a conversation with her to tell her you’re not interested. Or whoever ends up being your girlfriend is going to have to deal with her crawling around.”

Harry’s smile faded slightly as she mentioned Nina’s past behavior. He knew she could be intense and possessive, but he didn’t realize the extent of her actions. Considering he hadn’t even slept with her, it seemed like a massive overreaction. Of course there had been natural curiosity over some of the women in their friend circle had gone, but now that question had been answered. 

He bit his lip, mulling over the words as he helped her load the groceries onto the checkout belt. "You’re right." He said finally, his voice serious as it broke up the beeping of the items being scanned. "I guess I didn’t realize it was that serious. M’sorry. I don't particularly want to have that conversation, but it needs to be had. I’ll talk to her."

Harry continued helping you with the groceries, lost in thought for a moment before speaking again. "I’ll talk to her soon, make sure she knows for sure me and her are never going to be a thing and if she wants to try and scare off anyone I talk to, she won’t be invited to anything else." He said firmly, his eyes serious. 

"But first," he added, breaking the tense air as his tone turned playful again, "We have to get these groceries home. I’m starving."

—

It was safe to say that she was even more confused than she had started off being. 

Harry helped her bring the groceries into her place. He helped her unpack. He even fed her cat while she washed the fruit so she could put it away. Helping himself to her house like he had a right to be there, a comfortability that had her a little spooked. 

It was hard to accept the thought of Harry actually liking her. First, she hadn’t ever seen him with a serious girlfriend. All she had been exposed to was seeing him fucking around with different people. Secondly, he was always so playful and unserious that internally, the most insecure part of her felt like maybe it was a trick, and it made her more apprehensive of him. 

It wasn’t fair of her to be so judgmental when she was not a virgin mary herself; she knew that she wasn’t giving him a proper shot, but it was scary. He was scary, in a way.  Maybe it was the idea of how far feelings could go if she gave in, but it felt hard to stop those original emotions she had towards him from coming back. 

“Thank you.” She said awkwardly as Harry sat at her breakfast bar. “Um, for helping put away the stuff and bringing it inside. That was really nice of you.”

Harry, who was lounging in a chair at the breakfast bar, chuckled at the awkward gratitude.  "S’no big deal." He said, his tone casual. "I’m happy to help." 

He leaned back in the chair, his eyes roaming over her face, his favorite thing to do. Watching her was the best part of being around her.  He could see the tension in her shoulders and the uncertainty in her expression, and it made him wonder what was going on in that head of hers. Why she was so apprehensive. Yeah, he knew he had a weird dynamic with her before, but no one thought of him as a bad guy.

The longer he looked, the longer Harry could tell that there was something bothering her, and he wanted to find out what. Call it morbid curiosity, but it was needed. He leaned forward a bit, his eyes locked on her pretty face.

"You seem a little tense." He said, his voice soft. "Is everything okay? You've been quiet since we got back."

She hadn’t expected him to call her out on it, but she should have. Harry was as blunt as they came, and she could have laughed at it if she didn’t feel a little anxious. 

“I’m okay.” She wrapped her arms around herself, looking at her feet for a moment the soft green ladybug socks he had given her a laugh over. “I’m a little anxious, I guess. This new dynamic kind of… put me off kilter.” The confession hung in the air before she continued.  “I’m used to you being annoying and… I dunno. It’s unfair of me, but I keep getting nervous that this is some joke to you and you’re gonna go back to being obnoxious once I let my guard down.” She winced. “And I’m sorry. That isn’t fair to you when I know I haven’t been the nicest to you either. But I guess you intimidate me a little.”

Harry listened intently as she spoke, his expression softening as she revealed the source of the troubled look on her face. He knew that he had been a bit of an arse in the past too, and he could understand why his sudden change in behavior had thrown her off. 

He leaned forward on his hands, his gaze still fixed on the girl’s tense stance, lips rolled into her mouth. "I get it." He said quietly. "And I’m sorry if I intimidated you or made you uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I wanted to do."  He ran a hand through his hair, sighing softly. "And as for this being a joke... it’s not. Not in the slightest. Trust me."

“I guess I’m a little confused too.” She admitted. “Where all of this is coming from. I know we hooked up a few weeks ago, but you didn’t call me or anything after. I wasn’t expecting you to, don’t get me wrong, but then I felt awkward seeing you at all the events and stuff and you were acting normal. I never let you get alone with me on purpose because I didn’t want to hear you tease me for giving into you.”

Harry’s expression soured a bit as she brought up the hook-up. He knew he hadn’t done anything to dispel her doubts about his intentions, and he felt a pang of regret.  He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. How could he explain it without sounding as stupid as he felt? “I know I didn’t call you after, and I should have. I was an idiot… I just… I thought maybe you wanted me to chase a bit, that the ball had been left in your court after I dropped you off at home and… and I didn’t think, honestly.”  He ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. 

“You have to understand why I’m a little uneasy.” With arms wrapped around herself, she let herself look back up at him. There was no trace of joking on his features and it did make her feel a tad bit better.  “It’s not that I didn’t like… what we did.” It was the best she’d ever had. “But I think I’m not cut out for just hooking up. I don’t regret it, even if I acted like I did.” She decided to give him a tiny bit of her vulnerability to see what he did with it. “I just know that hooking up, for me, never ends well. And I don’t know you really well, Harry.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, nerves shot. The last thing she wanted to do was seem desperate about locking him down or something, but she couldn’t lie to him or herself.

“I’m not trying to make you feel any sort of pressure to want to date me or anything. I’m just trying to lay down a boundary that for me, I think I’m one of those people that really needs an intimate connection and trust with someone. For some reason I trusted you that night, and I know you wouldn’t harm me in that way, but sobered up and standing in front of you, I feel a little apprehensive. Like, I don’t want you to feel any sort of pressure from me, but in order to have me in the way you said you want… it has to have some level of commitment is basically what I’m trying to say.”

Harry listened intently as she laid down the boundaries, his expression thoughtful. He could see the vulnerability in her eyes and in the way she fidgeted with her shirt, and it tugged at his heart in a way he hasn't felt before.  The last thing he wanted was for her to feel any sort of regret and he was glad she hadn’t so far, but he had to appreciate her laying out the law here. It gave him direction on where to go. When she finished speaking, he took a moment to process the words before responding. He can feel the seriousness of the conversation, and it's clear that she wasn’t making demands lightly.

He took a deep breath, his own vulnerability on display in his honest gaze. It was imperative to him that she understood how much he got it. How dedicated he would be to it if given the chance. "I understand." He said quietly, licking over his bottom lip. "I understand that you need a committed relationship, darling. I also understand that you need trust and intimacy in order to get there." he added, his voice soft. 

He took a moment to organize his thoughts, then continued speaking. It should be laid out in front of her. “You know, I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately… about us, I mean.”

“What do you mean?” She asked quietly, taking the moment to look him in the eye. It was the most serious she had ever seen him. Usually he had that smirk on his face, so smug or teasing, he’d be poking and prodding at her to get a reaction- but nothing about this interaction was insincere. It was almost off putting to see him this way.

Harry's gaze met hers, his eyes intense. "I mean that I've been thinking about us in a more serious way." he admitted.  He took a deep breath, his expression tentative. "I know I've been kind of hot and cold with you… and I know that I've played games in the past. But after we hooked up… I really couldn’t stop thinking about you. How different we were like that… How good it felt. So I want you to know that... I don’t want to play games with you. I want t’be serious about this."

Y/N hadn’t expected that answer. In all honesty she thought he’d reject her, say he wasn’t into it and keep it moving. That was what she was prepared for- not this. That sort of confession had her realizing that maybe she really didn’t know him at all. She knew some parts, sure, but seeing him like this was brand new. This man in front of her was a familiar stranger, at least this new side.

“I’d have to get to know you better.” She brushed her hair behind her ear, giving him a tentative look. “And it would be a little slow. I think I could give you a chance, though. I’ve been unfair to you, I think. I feel like we… kind of got off on the wrong foot.”

Harry lets out a small sigh of relief, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I’m okay with slow.” he says, his voice sincere. “I’m willing to work for it.”

He leaned back a bit, giving her a little more space as a hint of his usual playfulness returned to his features.. “And I think you’re right… we got off on the wrong foot. But I’m glad we’re taking the time to get to know each other now.”

——-

—— 

Harry was coming over again. 

It was strange. Since they’d agreed to explore something romantic, seriously, he had changed. Not completely, not to the point where she wondered who he was before, but enough to make her soften up. Hints of him being a pain in the ass we’re still there. But he was… sweet. Genuine. A little silly in a cute way that she hadn’t allowed herself to enjoy before. 

One of the biggest shocks of all, was the fact that he was so gentle with her. He handled her with care, even if he was a little overly touchy. She was getting used to it because she found herself liking it, but he was the first guy to really be a bit of a clinger. 

That was the last thing she had ever expected from him.

His touches were soft and sweet and he looked at her with this little twinkle in his eye that she knew he couldn’t genuinely fake it. He liked her- liked her , liked her. 

She was still a bit shy with him, but it was slowly melting away each time they saw each other. Now the nerves were barely there, being overtaken by anticipation and excitement. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought would happen- being excited and antsy to see Harry, wanting him back in her house. 

He was coming over tonight and she had been prepping for a bit, primping and priming herself even though she wanted to look casual. There was never once so far that he hadn’t told her she looked gorgeous, and it had started becoming part of her daily routine. She wanted to impress him, make him say it again and mean it.

Her tummy twisted as she heard his car door slam shut, smiling to herself as she adjusted her cropped top and went towards the door. 

He was beautiful. Really, gorgeous as she opened the door to reveal him in the early evening light. He looked a little tired from work,slight bags under his eyes, but his smile melted her a little as he walked right into the house, dropping his bag in the foyer with little care for its well-being and picked her up in a big hug. Her feet dangled as she squealed, strong arms wrapped around her waist as he lifted her effortlessly. 

“Hi.” She beamed shyly, feeling him set her down on the floor.

Harry couldn’t help but grin as he placed her down, his strong arms wrapping around her waist lazily.. He loved how delicate she felt in his arms, and he loved the way she squealed with surprise as he lifted her up a bit. Really, he loved most things that had to do with her. Taking a moment to admire her cozy appearance, his gaze lingered on her cropped top. “Hi.” He replied, his voice soft and warm. “You look beautiful.”

Like clockwork.

Before she could respond, Harry was pulling her back into a hug, burying his face in her shoulder as he held her, rocking slightly. A prime example of how touchy he was, unable to stop himself. He nuzzled her neck, letting his cool nose brush against the hot skin. “I missed you.” he mumbled, his voice muffled against her, leaving a little shiver in it’s wake..

When he said things like that it made her want to giggle madly, but also melt into a puddle. He truly meant it, was the thing, and she had a hard time understanding how this had happened. How he had gone from her little enemy to the person she looked toward to seeing the most. 

“I missed you too.” She admitted, fingers tracing down his back. It was an attempt to get more open about her feelings. Harry was being candid about his own, so she felt like she could extend him the same grace. Even if it was slightly terrifying, she had no reason to hold back anymore.

Harry pulled back slightly to look at her, a soft smile on his lips at her shy admission. "I like it when you say that." he teased, his voice low.  He brought his hands up to rest on her hips, his thumbs tracing small circles on the bare skin. He loved the way the cropped top revealed just enough to make him want more, and he found himself struggling to focus on anything but the feel of her body under his hands.

Harry wanted her, and there was obvious desire for her there. In all honesty, there was a lot of desire for her in general that he had done his best to keep under wraps  He’d been so good, trying so hard to prove himself- but that didn’t mean he was a saint. He was beyond attracted to her in every sense of the word, and it was hard to ignore that..

“Excuse me.” She let her smile grow, her tone playful. “My eyes are up here.” 

Y/N knew Harry wanted her in all of the ways, and he’d been exceedingly patient. He knew she was trying to build their connection before getting intimate with him again, and she appreciated it- but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy knowing he desired her. 

Or that she didn’t have those same urges.

Harry's gaze flicked back up to meet hers, a cheeky grin on his face. "I know where your eyes are. I look at them plenty, do I not?" He replied smoothly, his hands still resting on her waist, giving a gentle squeeze.  He couldn't help but let out a small laugh as she shot him a look, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "But you can't expect me to ignore the rest of you when you're wearing something as distracting as that." Testing the waters, he was seeing how far his flirtation could go.

“It’s loungewear, you freak.” She scoffed, a hint of a smile turning up her lips. Leggings and a cropped top were a bit of a reward for him, though. She figured if he had been so patient with her then he could at least get to look at her. “But I’m glad you like it.” 

Taking his hand in her smaller one, she led him towards the kitchen to show him the pizza boxes and salad she had made to pair with it, feeling weirdly shy about it. That was the theme of today, considering she had come to a conclusion in her head- but he didn’t need to know about it quite yet. “I knew you’d be hungry when you got off work, so I ordered ahead.”

Harry's eyes lit up as he saw the food, warmth spreading through him. No one had been thoughtful like that to him before, but of course she would be. This sort of thing was why he had liked her. He’d seen it time and time again with their other friends and secretly wished for some of it for himself, that sort of care… and now that he got it, he felt that yearning for her get a little bit stronger. He let out a low whistle. "You knew exactly what I needed." he murmured, a grateful smile on his lips. 

Pulling her into him, his arms wrapping around her waist from behind. He nuzzled her neck again, his breath warm on her skin. "You're too good to me." he murmured, his voice showing just how grateful he was.

Y/N shivered slightly as he spoke against her skin, large arms wrapping around her and making her feel that same brand of delicacy that only Harry had been able to accomplish. His arms were just… beautiful. Built and muscular, covered in those tattoos, she loved every single thing about them. Looking at them, feeling them, how he used them… she couldn’t admit it out loud yet, but being in his arms was one of her new favorite places. 

“You texted and said you didn’t sleep well and you had a rougher day at work and… I dunno. I thought maybe you’d like something ready when you came over. I would have cooked myself but I had a workshop.” She rambled on a little bit, feeling the need to overexplain herself.

Harry squeezed her tighter, his chin resting on her shoulder. He inhaled her scent, his nose buried in hair as she spoke. 

"Mmm. " He hummed, his voice low and gravelly. He ran his nose over her throat, lips brushing against the sensitive skin. "You didn't have to do all this, you know." He moved his hands down over her hips, his thumbs tracing soft circles on the exposed skin there. "But I'm really grateful you did." He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, his grip on her tightening slightly. "Can I ask you somethin’?"

“Hm?” She replied. It was hard to focus. Sure, it would be awkward if anyone else say them just standing in her kitchen with the large man wrapped around her body, but no one else was there to judge her for indulging both herself and him in this sort of cuddle. 

Harry's body was pressed against her, a small smile on his lips. He really did enjoy this moment of quiet intimacy just as much as he enjoyed the more energetic moments where they’d go out or he’d help her take care of her garden.

"Can I stay over tonight?"

It should have been a scarier question to her, all things considered, but the answer came out of her mouth naturally. 

“Sure.” She nodded. There was no second guessing it either. “Is that what that bag was?” She realized he had brought in a bigger duffle than his usual work one, but she had thought it was maybe just to change from his work clothes.

Harry's smile grew as she agreed so easily. "Mhmm." he hummed, his voice low. His hands moved up her sides, tracing the curve of her waist. "I wanted to be prepared just in case you said yes." Presumptuous? He’d prefer the terms hopeful, even confident. They’d been doing so well, he had to at least ask.

He pulled back slightly, looking down at her with a hint of a smirk on his face. "So... where can I sleep?"

He turned her in his grip, letting her look up at his face now with narrowed eyes. Her heartbeat quickened though she tried to calm it down. He was teasing her a little bit, but he did genuinely want to know. 

“If you promise no extreme funny business… you can sleep in my bed.” She placed her hand on his bicep, squeezing a little. It was her own reward. “But remember, Harry. No sex. Okay?” Gliding her other hand up to cuff over the back of his neck, she decided it was finally time to tease him back a bit. “However… If you’re really, really nice to me… I may let you kiss me again.”

Harry's smile widened, his eyes sparkling with a hint of challenge. He leaned down, bringing his face closer to the girl’s.  "You're being bold, darling." he teased, his voice low and playful. "Are you trying to tempt me?"

“A little.” She hummed. “I like when you’re sweet to me. So if you keep it up, I’ll let you kiss me as long as you’d like tonight. I know I’ve been holding all of that intimacy hostage…” 

It had been driving him wild. Near kisses and her letting him brush his hand over the curve of her ass a few times before putting them back up to her hips, he’d tested the waters but got rejected. Now, she was loosening up a bit. 

“So.” She blinked up at him. “Are you gonna be nice to me tonight so you can kiss me?”

Harry's eyes glinted with a mixture of desire and playful mischief. He loved it when she teased him just as much as he loved it when she got all shy and flustered. Which one he likes more, he couldn’t tell. "Oh, I'll be so nice to you tonight you won't be able to stand it." he purred, his voice low and husky. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer until their bodies were flush against each other. "But I have one condition, little miss."

“What is that?” She questioned, unsure what it could be. With him, it could be anything.

"You have to promise me that if I'm being too... forward, you'll tell me to back off. I don't want to overstep. Even though I want to kiss you until you can't think straight. So promise me you'll speak up if I get too much." 

Her smile widened, nodding in agreement. He’d just earned himself quite a few points. Never had she expected him to be as respectful as he was, but she utterly adored it.  “I will. I promise, I’ll tell you.” She agreed, leaning up to kiss the curve of his jaw. “But it’s time for you to eat. I can feel your tummy grumbling.”

Harry let out a low chuckle, his eyes flickering over her pretty face. He loved the way her smile widened, and the feeling of her plump lips against his jaw send a shiver down his spine. More. He wanted more, and more, until their mouths were tingling and numb. Until she looked drunk on the kisses, clinging to him like he could only hope.

"Mmm. Okay, fine." he grumbled. "I'll eat. But only if you feed me, since you were so kind as to order ahead for me." He gave her a puppy-dog look, his lower lip jutted out in a mock-pout. It was good, she’s give him that- but not good enough.

“Absolutely not.” She snorted. “Nice try.”

[mirohlayo]

🍓❝ you know i love and care about you, right? ❞ with lando <3

LET ME SHOW YOU

( maybe you're insecure, but that will never bother Lando, since it's a way to remind you how much he loves you. )

warning : insecurities, fluff

word count : 1.1k

You're not the type to be jealous or insecure. Especially not about your boyfriend. You trust him with all your heart, you can never blame him for anything because he is simply perfect. Adorable and perfect.

And yet, here you are in this situation. It had become usual for everyone now, to see Lando alongside beautiful models. Pretty women, with perfect and angelic faces, elegant posture and careful gestures. Even more so when he was partying.

You didn't see any problem with it. Since after all, Lando always made you feel like the most beautiful woman, Lando always reassured you that he only had eyes for you. And you know, you can't deny a fact that is true.

But seeing him constantly surrounded by these models was perhaps something that saddened you today. So, you locked yourself in your hotel room, while Lando continued to test the car on the track. He asked you about your health, if you were okay, but you just said you were tired.

Sometimes you would glance at Instagram, instantly regretting opening the app the second different posts of Lando alongside these girls popped up. You couldn't stand this.

It's probably toxic and unhealthy, but you can't help but feel insecure. After all, who wouldn't want a rich and handsome Formula 1 driver? Especially when that meme man is a lovable personality.

The day passed slowly. You heard the distant sound of the Formula 1 engines, thinking of Lando who was driving one of them. You regretted the moment he returned to the hotel. You didn't want to appear so weak and insecure in front of him, knowing that this isn't the first time you've talked about it.

But yet, despite your complexes, despite the fact that you felt apart, Lando was always there to comfort you about your relationship.

“Hello, sweetheart.” The day is over, since you yourself are surprised to see Lando standing in front of you. You try as best you can to come back to reality, giving your lover a weak smile. “Ooh my baby, I missed you so much”. His body collapses onto yours, as he nestles his head in the crook of your neck.

You delicately stroke his curly hair, while he snuggles a little closer to you. “I missed you too, Lan.” “Of course you missed me, you stayed at the hotel all day.” A silence settles in, you didn't really know what to answer. You didn't want to tell him about your insecurities.

"Sorry. I don't like leaving you alone on the track." He lifts his head slightly, just enough for his eyes to meet yours. "Don't apologize, baby. You needed some rest." His lips press against yours, gently, delicately.

You already feel better, just from this simple kiss. It's unfair the way he manages to console you, to comfort you just by his simple presence. "I've been thinking about you all day. Even when I was in the car." His voice is muffled since his face is still hidden in the crook of your neck.

Still, it makes you smile. “You can’t do without me Lando.” You giggle slowly, while you feel a smile appear on his face. "Absolutely, I'm obsessed with you. Maybe a little too much... Fuck, I love you so much princess." A soft laugh escapes his throat as his arms wrap a little tighter around you.

But these words are enough to make you cry. Of joy, of sadness? You don't really know, but on the other hand you know that Lando's sincerity is the source of your tears. Because even without being aware of your insecurities, he manages to make them go away. To chase them away.

He always knew how to make you feel special and unique, make you feel his. Through his words and actions, he always showed only love and tenderness towards you. And even without talking about your problems, he manages to solve them with a snap of his fingers, thanks to his way of showing his affection.

Your wet tears fall on his hair, running down his neck. He senses that something is wrong, and suddenly raises his head to look at you. His face falls as he searches your face and your gaze for an answer.

"Oh my baby. Why are you crying?" He sweeps the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, cupping your face in the process. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your sobs. His lips place soft, long kisses on your face, while he gives you time to find your words.

“Take your time, princess. I’m here with you, I won’t leave.” You smile weakly at him as your tears fall once again. "I know it's childish, Lan but-" "Hey, don't ever say that again. Your problems aren't childish, you have the right to feel how you feel." He cuts you off, an expression of displeasure displayed on his face.

You nod slowly, sniffling otherwise. "I'm just... it annoys me a little to see you surrounded by pretty girls and models. I know we've talked about this before and it's something I need to work on with myself... “He encourages you to continue, gently caressing your cheeks.

"But I still feel a little insecure about it. I know you love me and I trust you, but sometimes it makes me insecure. I'm just afraid you'll find someone better than me." Lando's lips seem to curl down, to the point where his face resembles that of a puppy.

“Oh my baby girl.” He doesn't wait a second before kissing you languorously, his hands anchored on your cheeks, caressing them ever so gently. He pulls back, a soothing smile plastered on his lips. "How could I find anyone better than you? You are the very definition of the girl of my dreams."

You can't help but roll your eyes as a smile takes over. Which makes Lando smile more. “I only have you in my thoughts, my dreams and my heart. Only you my girl”. He kisses you lightly again, not being able to stop himself from smiling.

His eyes admire you as if you were the most beautiful thing on earth. Which is totally the case for him. “You know I love and care about you, right?” He leans down again to kiss the tip of your nose, as you nod eagerly. “I love you so much, Lan. I’m so in love with you.” You can only say these words in a low whisper.

His eyes crinkle into another smile, a most affectionate smile. “Then let me show you how much I am in love with you too, pretty girl”. And without further ado, he doesn't hesitate to cover your entire face with thousands and thousands of kisses.

[luveline]

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

When Eddie asks you on a date, you don’t believe it. He probably meant as friends, right? Spoiler alert — Eddie wants to be more than friends, and he’s willing to prove it. [4k]

fluff, slight hurt/comfort, fem!reader, plus-sized!reader, reader feels undesirable, kissing, obligatory ‘don’t be cruel’ scene, eddie calls you pretty like ten times, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie has one of those smiles that screams trouble. Every time he looks at you with that smile he might as well have "I'm gonna break your heart," written across his forehead in tandem. 

You sneak a glance at him across the atrium. Eddie’s paused bussing tables to talk to a patron, his customer service voice in play with a matching smile. It isn't the one you mean, but it's bad enough to make you flush red-hot. You cross your arms over the bar, regret it for its stickiness, and let your head rest against the crook of your elbow. 

You've been working together for a long time now, almost six months, and he's your favourite coworker hands down. He cleans up after himself, he brings snacks that you never accept (lest you look like the greedy chubby girl you worry everyone expects you to be), and he talks to you like a real person.

It's horrifying and it's not fair, but being fat means that sometimes guys don’t want to look at you. They don't want to be in the same room with you, and you can tell; they avert their eyes, or simply don't talk to you directly.

You've never had that feeling with Eddie. He meets your eyes, unflinching, and he sends you one of those pretty smiles and you think Fuck, because he should've been a movie star, he has the cheekbones for it, or a rockstar like that band he's always raving about. He'd have a slim LA girl on both arms, no doubt about it. 

He likely wouldn't waste his time with you. 

Not someone pretty as he is. Sometimes he'll lean over and expose the flat stretch of his stomach, his v-lines and the dark trail of hair peeking above his jeans, and you feel acutely miserable 'cause you know you'll never get to touch him. Workplace crushes suck. 

"Hey, are you okay?" a voice asks, a hand dropping against your shoulder. 

You pull yourself up quickly. Speak of the devil, Eddie stands beside you with his hair tied away from his face. He looks more entertained than concerned, his smile unfortunately genuine. 

"I'm fine," you say, stepping back. His hand falls away from your shoulder. "Sorry, just tired." 

Eddie leans into your space, squinting. You freeze up, but he's only checking the time on the clock behind you. "Gotta tough it out. Still an hour and a half 'til closing." 

Which means there's more than two hours of your shift left. Your face must show how unexciting that is —Eddie laughs, warm and quiet, and gives your hand a squeeze. 

"You'll live," he promises. "Are you busy tonight? Maybe we could go get pizza or something." 

"What, nobody else is available?" you ask. 

His head juts back a touch, put upon shock. "And why can't I ask you? I like you and I like pizza, that's a good combination. And even if you don't like me that much, you like pizza, right?" 

You know —you know, you do— that Eddie doesn't mean it as a slight. This isn't some thinly veiled insult on how you look. Why wouldn't you like pizza? Most people do, but his comment twists itself into an evil inky ball in your chest anyways, thick and hot as tar. 

You shake it off. 

"Who says I don't like you?" you ask, steering the conversation away from food altogether. 

His smile gets somehow better, which is to say worse. You're being punished for something, a childhood wrongdoing or a future crime, perhaps. Nothing else could warrant the mental torture that is being so close to him while he looks the way he does. 

"Good. Good, then we should get pizza. It's a date," he says, nodding. 

Morgan the shift manager calls for him to stop distracting you, though the Hideout is abandoned tonight, and there's nothing to distract you from. Eddie stands at full height, with a soldier's salute. "Yes, sir. No more lollygagging." He turns to you when you laugh, and you share a secret smile. 

He and Morgan disappear into the back of house. If you strain your ears, you can hear Eddie complaining about having to keep his hair in a bun, as it's totally against what he stands for, dude, it's stifling his self expression. 

"Count yourself lucky I don't make you wear a hair net, kid," Morgan says.

You turn back to your sticky bar, numb. It's a date? Did he mean, like, an actual date? A romantic date? 

Not a chance in hell. It's a colloquialism. Nothing more. 

Despite yourself, you stare into the silver reflection of a beer tap and try to liven up. You fix your hair, check your teeth, dig a lip balm out of your apron pocket and scratch the corners of your mouth just in case. The entire time you're heckling yourself about delusions. Eddie Munson doesn't like you. He's had a girl come around once or twice, and she'd been everything you're not: slender, confident. You'd wanted to dislike her, but she hadn't done anything wrong. There's no crime in being desirable. 

For the remainder of the night, you man the bar and serve the occasional patron. It's a Sunday night, so most stick to light beer or soft drinks. The live entertainment says goodnight and the Hideout empties like an opened floodgate. You clean the bar, Eddie buses the tables, and the kitchen staff turn on the radio and get to work cleaning. Soon, you can smell cigarette smoke and reheated mozzarella sticks. 

You wander into the kitchen to help. 

"Hi beautiful," Leon says, one of the cooks, "you want something to eat?" 

"No she does not!" Eddie says, helping the dishwasher Marcie with her last round of plates. Suds drip down to his rolled sleeves as he waves his hands around. "We're going to get pizza." 

"Yes!" Marcie says, delighted. 

"Where are we going?" Paul asks, another cook. 

"We," Eddie says, pointing at you and then himself, "are going to Marletto's. Yeah?" 

You startle when you realise he's asking you. "Oh, sure. Anywhere you want." 

His head bobs up and down, pleased. He goes back to his dishes. "Anywhere I want," he murmurs to Marcie, though he's saying it for everybody to hear, "hear that, Marc? I'm spoiled." 

You wipe down a few counters, label some leftover iceberg lettuce and put it back in the fridge. It's easy work, made better by the camaraderie of your coworkers, but you can't settle down. Your heart races at what's to come. "It's a date," is starting to feel less colloquial now Eddie's dissuading the other from joining you. That's how that works, right? He wants to be alone with you.

It might not mean anything. Maybe Eddie needs something from you he doesn't want the others to know about, like money. Maybe he wants girl advice, finally chasing that pretty girl who drops by sometimes. Or boy advice —there's a guy who comes around too, tall and blond and handsome. 

There's a logical solution. Any other girl would hear the word date and take it at face value, but you aren't them. You're you. You can't remember the last time somebody looked at you with desire in their eyes, if they ever have. High school was a shit show and work isn't exactly a hub for romance. Eddie joining the team here is the most excitement you've ever had in your life, for all his gentle squeezes and teasing elbows, his inside jokes and his tendency to burst into an air guitar solo at any given moment. He's a cheeseball, and you like him. It sucks. 

"Hi, are you ready?" he asks, coming out of nowhere. You're kneeling down near the lockers tying your shoelaces. 

It is a horrible position for him to see you in. You can't imagine what you look like, but you know it won't be pretty. You spring up with your shoelace untied still and smile weakly. "Yeah, I'm ready." 

"You need help with that?" he asks, eyes on your shoe. 

You burn with embarrassment. "I– no, I–" 

Eddie kneels down on the floor and reaches for your shoe. He ties it quickly in a double-knotted bunny-loop and pats the side of your ankle when he's done. When he looks up at you, you're in the middle of hoping a natural disaster will occur and put you out of your misery. 

He smiles at you from his position. Does he ever stop? 

"Cool," he says, standing up. He grabs his coat from his locker and doesn't bother closing it. "Let's go! I'm starving, man, Leon needs to mess up more often so I can steal the rejects." 

You follow him in a daze. Through the lockers and out of the kitchen, waving goodbye to the lingering closers and a grimacing Morgan. You aren't looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow. You're more than sure he'll have something to say about workplace fraternising and general dawdling. 

"You okay for us to take the van?" he asks. 

Eddie's given you rides home before, and what felt awkward before has lended itself to a familiarity. You nod your agreement and cross the small parking lot out back, your breath rising in the cold night air. 

Eddie pulls open the passenger door of his van with a strong-armed tug. 

"Been meaning to get the latch looked at. I'd rather it have trouble opening than trouble closing, though, so that's a plus." 

He waits for you to climb the short step and sit before he closes the door. 

“All limbs inside the ride?" he asks. 

You laugh. It comes out weird. You kind of sound like you're being held at gunpoint. 

Eddie gets in the van and makes small talk as he starts the engine and pulls her out of the lot. Your mind isn't there, exactly, or rather it's too close. You want to think about your answers but instead you're worrying about how you look while you say them. You're worried about the seat belt around your stomach, and the way you look from the side. Being around Eddie makes you more self-conscious than usual. 

Marletto's isn't the best pizza place in Hawkins but it's open until three AM. You and Eddie take the first empty booth you come across, and the agony of ordering in front of someone else begins. 

"Meat feast for me, obviously," he says, pulling off his jacket. 

The cracked vinyl seat beneath him crunches with his movement. You dedicate yourself to staying still. 

"I'll get a margarita," you say, glancing between him and the menu for his reaction.  

"Didn't take you for such a bore," he teases. "Drinks? Sides?" 

"Just water will be fine." 

"Are you sure? I'm paying. If you wanna take advantage of me, now's the time."

You shake your head, pushing your cold hands under your thighs. 

Eddie frowns. "If you're sure…" 

He gets up to track down the register. You sit there, wondering why you agreed to this, what possessed you, why you could ever think this was a good idea. You don't wanna eat in front of him, you don't know what to say, he's looking at you like everything's normal but this is so not normal, this is the opposite side of the spectrum. 

Eddie returns with your water and a coke, all smiles despite your clear nerves. 

He puts the drinks down and clambers into the seat with a leg folded underneath himself, his elbows halfway across the table. He looks you straight in the face. 

"That guy just looked at me like I was crazy. I'm hungry, sue me. Three orders of mozzarella sticks is a normal human thing to get, right?" 

"Three?" you ask. 

His hand reaches toward you. If your hand were there, he'd likely squeeze it roughly as he sometimes does, like a playful scolding. "I'm hungry," he repeats. "I didn't get any lunch on my lunch break. What's the point in that? Just sat down in the locker room thinking about it. It was actually worse than working." 

"You should've had Leon make you a burger. He's always offering." 

"Always offering you, maybe. The rest of us gotta fend for ourselves." 

"That's not true. He asks Marcie, too." 

"Yeah, well, Leon's a sucker for pretty girls." 

You look down at the table. 

"I got enough fries for both of us, I know you didn't want any sides but everyone wants fries. I won't be sharing the mozzarella sticks, so if you want some you better speak now." He raps the table with his knuckles. When you look up, his face softens. "Well, alright. Maybe I'll share them with you. I'm a sucker, too." 

"What's that mean?" 

"What?" 

"You know what," you say. 

Eddie crosses his arms across the table. His hands and arms are pale, the ink of his black tattoos stark. You could draw them without prompting, that's how often you've fallen into his trap. When he crosses his arms like this, his biceps bulge up a little bit, emphasising the pretty curves and ridges of his arms and the hints of greeny-blue veins hiding under his skin. He tilts his head toward his shoulder, his limp curls dragging against the table. 

"It means…" he says, holding your eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips, "that you're pretty. You're so pretty, I'd do anything you asked me to." 

You flinch. You pull your numb hands from under your thighs and cover your stomach with your forearms, glaring at the table between you thoughtlessly. 

"That's cruel." 

"What?" 

"That's cruel, Eddie. You're being mean," you mutter.

"I–" Eddie stammers. "What? I'm just trying to tell you how I think about you– how I feel. I'm sorry if you don't wanna hear it, I'm not trying to be mean." 

Hurt creeps into the lines of your face, your eyebrows pulled down and the starts pulled up, your lips pursed. Heat bursts in your throat as a molten lump takes shape there. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you have to. 

"I thought you were my friend," you say quietly. 

"I want to be more than that." 

"You're making fun of me." 

"No." 

Eddie reaches across the table again. There's nothing for him to grab so he spreads his fingers and presses his palm flat. He ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are ridiculously big, the black of his pupils blown and leaching into his dark irises until they're almost indistinguishable in the fuzzy lighting of the restaurant. 

"Come on," he says quietly, "when have I ever done that to you? I mess around, but I wouldn't say shit like that unless I meant it." His fingers lift off of the table. "I mean it. I think you're beautiful." His voice takes on a raw quality. 

You bite the tip of your tongue, fully frowning now. "I don't believe you," you say. 

"Why not?" he asks, frowning back. 

"Because I'm– I'm– I'm fat." You hate yourself for saying it out loud. 

People hate that word. Usually, if you admit to it, there's a rushed response. No, you're not. Pretty friends talk you down, loved ones wrap an arm around your shoulder and harp about puppy fat or big bones. 

Eddie doesn't do either. He sits back in his seat and smiles hesitantly. 

"Why's that a bad thing?" he asks. He shakes his head at himself. "I mean– I'm sorry, I should've said you aren't, you aren't–" 

"No, I am," you say. 

"You're so pretty," he says again, in a rush. "I don't care what size you are, I really don't. I just think you're beautiful and I wanted to ask you on a real date but I saw you and I couldn't wait anymore." He wraps his hand around the neck of his coke bottles and pulls it towards his chest. "Shit, I've made a huge fucking mess of it." 

You lean forward. Your body doesn't know what to do, the whiplash of hurt smothered by his enthusiastic, sincere compliments.

Why's that a bad thing? means more than anything else he said to you. 

"You really think I'm pretty?" you ask timidly. 

"Drop dead," he says. Hope flickers behind his eyes. "Morgan pulled me aside on my second week, you know that? Said if I didn't stop staring at you he'd put me in the back for the week." 

"He did put you in the back," you say, confused. 

"Exactly." 

Oh. You raise your head properly. Eddie's watching you, just you, obviously waiting for you to speak. The hope on his face is clear as day now, his lips parted, the tiniest peek of his tongue on display. 

"You promise you aren't messing with me?" you ask finally. 

"I promise." He holds his hand out, palm up. "I swear." 

Your heart a hummingbird, you take your hand from your waist and put it carefully in his. His fingers curl around yours like a prince, the tip of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles slowly, half an inch at a time. You exhale out of your nose as goosebumps race up your arm. 

He looks like he has more to say, but the pizza and all his sides arrive. You spring apart like teenagers, blood rushing in your ears. The server unloads his tray.

"Alright guys," he says, looking down at you both with a knowing smile. "Anything else I can get you while I'm here?" 

Eddie sneaks a look at you that holds way too much meaning. "No, I think we're alright." 

There's a tiny, awkward silence. You busy yourself with unfolding a napkin over your lap, not sure what to say to bridge the gap. 

Eddie takes the plunge. 

He slides a basket of mozzarella sticks at you. "Pretty girl privileges," he says.

You feel insecure eating in front of him, but the sheer ferocity of his compliments discourages any shame. He thinks you're pretty. He held your hand like it was made of glass and he got put in Hideout jail for staring. 

"I think you're handsome, too," you say. 

Eddie almost chokes on a handful of fries. "Shit," he says, swallowing roughly, hand thumping at his chest. "Thank god for that. I mean, of course you do. My devilish good looks are hard to resist." 

He's not wrong. 

—

Getting put on kitchen duty isn't half as bad as Morgan seems to think it is. Eddie kind of likes it, the noise, the chaos, the heat. Plus, he can steal fries hot and fresh out of the basket. He's only burned himself once. 

"What're you in for?" Leon asks him.

"Staring." 

"You're a freak, Munson, you know that?" 

Eddie shrugs. "If your girlfriend looked like mine, you'd stare too." 

"Uh-huh." Leon grabs up a spatula to flip a burger, pink meat down and brown side up. Fat sizzles dangerously. Neither man flinches. "She ain't going nowhere." 

"You don't know that. Some rockstar might blaze through here and snap her up. Who would I be to stop her? She should be a trophy wife, she's a stunner." 

"Christ," Marcie says from across the room. 

"How the fuck can you hear us?" Eddie asks. Over the sound of the overhead spray and the sizzle of the burners, Marcie must have superpowers or something. 

"Uh, 'cause you're fucking yelling," she says. 

Eddie looks to Leon for some defence, but Leon agrees. "You are super loud." 

"You would be too–"

"If I had a girlfriend as pretty as yours," Leon says, audibly grouchy. "I know." 

"Don't be jealous that I got there first." 

"How is this fair? You get in trouble and I'm the one punished." 

Eddie blows a big breath out of the corner of his mouth, one of his shorter curls dancing away from his warm face. Ridiculous. They're all awful, and jealous, and nobody wants him to be happy. "Losers," he mumbles. 

He's kidding, mostly. He knows that everyone is actually very happy for the both of you. How could they not be? Eddie's happier than ever and you've turned to mush. It's his favourite thing in the world. 

He thought you were pretty before. These days, you're gold dust incarnate. You see him and smile like you've been waiting for him, no more nervousness (which, he found out, was down to a raging crush on him) (he walked on air for days), no more shying away from his touch. Eddie puts a hand on your shoulder and you don't tense; you melt. Butter in the sun. 

It's glorious. 

And sure, Eddie ends up in the brig a lot. He 'hovers' apparently. So what? He'll say it again, if any of these guys were in his shoes, they'd fall victim to the same compulsion. 

He waits for an opportunity to arise, four dinner tickets and a dishwasher disaster, and sneaks away as silently as he can manage, creeping out of the kitchen and to the bar. You're busy pouring a beer and don't notice him until the customer's left and he's wrapping an arm around your waist. 

"Eddie," you scold lightly, leaning forward to accommodate his weight against your back, "come on. You might actually lose your job." 

"They can't fire me. I'm the best bus boy ever." 

You turn your face to look at him. Eddie wants to put you on TV, you look that sweet. 

"No, you're awful, you," —Eddie interrupts you, leaning down for a quick chaste kiss— "distract me, and you," —he steals a second— "don't actually bus tables when you should," you finish, disjointed. 

He brings his hand to your soft cheek, stroking a badly behaved baby hair back into place. You go lax like he's some kind of quick fix drug, and your eyes contain a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He covers his heart with his hand. 

"You're awful," you murmur. 

He takes your face into both hands slowly. One cups your cheek, and the other slides behind your ear. He pulls your face forward and down toward his chin, his lips by your ear. You smell amazing. His eyes close on instinct.

"A little. It's not my fault. You're just–" 

"So pretty?" you ask. "Yeah, you've told me." 

"I have, have I? Have to let me tell you again." He kisses the skin before your ear, more a press of his lips than anything. "You're beautiful," he mouths. 

You shiver, but ultimately end up planting your hands against his chest and ushering him away from you. 

"Stop it. I mean it! We're in public, at work, and you're gonna mess me up." 

"I want to mess you up," he says easily. 

"I know you do." 

Eddie sighs, agonised, but heeds your warning. "Alright," he says, squeezing your shoulder in goodbye. You smile and squeeze his elbow in return. It's your new thing, silent conversation in fond touches. 

He's a couple of feet away when the urge to turn back is too much. He jogs back to your side, gets his hand behind your neck, and kisses you with enough pressure that your lips part underneath his in shock. He adores the side of your neck with his thumb one sweeping stroke at a time, his nose digging sliding against yours as he inches in further, and further. The dizzy pleasure of your lips can't be understated. Eddie fights back a kiss-ruining smile with all he's worth. 

"Sorry," he says, pulling back. Your lips shine and you blink, dazed. "Sorry," he says again, leaning in to kiss them dry. 

You laugh quietly, a breath against his cheek, and he's a goner, dropping pecks all over your pretty face until you're giggling and sinking into his arms. 

"I really am sorry." He punctuates with a kiss under your jaw. 

"No," you say breathlessly. Your hand twines loosely in his hair. "You're not." 

No, he isn't. He's never felt less sorry for anything in his life. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider reblogging, it helps more than you know!! <3 

[theninthdoor]

⭒˚｡⋆ 🍓 pac || inside your crush's mind ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ 🐞

𖦹 think of your crush, take 3 deep breaths and pick one of the piles below! lets see what is/was going through your person’s mind & if you have or ever had a chance with them. 𖦹 take only what resonates. if you feel like the pile you’ve initially picked doesn’t really apply to the person/situation you’re thinking of, it’s OK to pick another one. I'm also leaving some extra messages and keywords at the end of each reading. those may work as confirmation for some people, but if they don't mean anything to you, that doesn't mean that that's not your pile. what you should really take into account is the description I make of the person (your crush) in each pile, and that's how you will know if you have chosen the right or wrong one. please use your discernment. 𖦹 remember that this is all for entertainment purposes and that free will still exists. don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to, just because your person thinks this or that, ok? 𖦹 enjoy, my lovelies!

Pile 1 || ☎️ cards: four of pentacles rx, death rx, knight of pentacles rx, judgement rx, the chariot

not you guys landing on the player's pile… omg So, yeah- Did you ever had a chance? For sure. Anyone would have a chance with this person, I feel like. This is someone who's either constantly in love or just can't stand being alone for too long. Maybe it's just their personality - being extroverted, a connection-seeker, always open to new relationships and whatever experiences come with it -, or perhaps they are simply that charming and the options never end for them. This does feel like someone who's very much a feeler, but maybe not the wisest or yet the most mature in general (or even the most emotionally available!!). For the most part, their relationships feel quite short lived, and mostly based on physical attraction. They may have had one or two longer ones, still (for some people in specific, it feels like your crush may have been in longer-term relationship that was very talked about and known about, and they may still be heavily associated with this ex of theirs). Now, when it comes to their thoughts and feelings towards you: I'm sorry to say it, but I just don't see them having cared or caring too much... They see you quite plainly (if they know you at all); you're just a friend, coworker or acquaintance. Yet, as I said, I feel like you'd definitely still be able to have a chance with them - all you would have to do is take that step towards them and get yourself noticed. Be confident about it! I think that's what attracts them the most to someone, actually: boldness. Flirt a little with them, and see where it leads you… It might not result in the most serious, stable or long lasting relationship of all time, but maybe you'll still get to have a good time together.

⋆ extra messages:

This totally feels straight out of a 2000s coming of age movie, or some rom-com set in high school, with your crush being the popular guy/girl everyone knows and is attracted to lol. Just thought I should add that in.

Milena. Mimi. Mario. Jet-black hair. Affluent neighbourhoods. Family business. Taking acting classes. Ankles/ankle bracelets. Big family event or gathering coming up soon (like a birthday, a wedding, some special holiday…). Talking about or someone's been worrying about frown lines recently. Jennifer. Janet. J surnames. Wearing a lot of orange lately, or having just bought a new orange clothing item. Ash. Ashley.

⋆ channeled song: The Bellamy Brothers - Let Your Love Flow

Pile 2 || 💄 cards: page of wands rx, ten of pentacles rx, knight of pentacles rx, the hermit, seven of wands

So, my sweet pile 2, here we have someone who has, for sure, noticed you before! Seven of Wands + The Hermit at the bottom of the deck = this person would do anything to get to know you a little better and/or to spend more time with you. There's something about the way you are or carry yourself that makes you stand out from other people - or perhaps you're just your crush's type and that's why their eyes are on you... I don't get a whole lot of communication or movement coming from them, so even if they talk to you, it doesn't feel direct; they're not letting you know how they feel; they're not openly flirting with you. This person actually feels very much like a Virgo or Capricorn Moon; logical, careful, slow moving. Once you get them to come of their shell and finally they feel ready to say something, though, you can definitely expect them to be very direct about it. At first they study you, consider the potential of this connection, and then they decide if they should go for it or not. If they do come towards you then, they won't waste any time, again. They're saying, you know… "Hey, let's go out one of these days. I'd like to spend some time with you." or "I really like your vibe. Would you care to go on a date with me, sometime?". It's quite dry and lame actually lol. They're still not flirting, exactly. They're just putting it out there that they're interested and want to explore this connection - again, very direct and logical about the whole thing. (And their flirting skills may actually suck, btw…) In the meantime, they may get closer to you by asking you about your interests, by sitting nearby in class or at lunch, watching your ig stories or something like that. It's the small things, and they're gonna take their sweet time with this. It's not something they are losing their sleep over; it's a case they are studying.

⋆ extra messages:

Is anyone here working or studying in a scientific field? Science feels very relevant. Ron, Rob, R names. Lab coats. Law; rules and regulations. College towns. Planning (or planning on attending) a big Halloween party - and putting a lot of thought into this as of late. Wisconsin. Big 3 Libra placements. Glasgow. Glass working/art. Gallows. Gallows humour. G surnames.

⋆ channeled song: John Legend - All of Me

Pile 3 || 🎧 cards: the chariot, four of swords rx, the magician, ten of swords, queen of wands, two of wands

Listen!!- Pile 3, please go for it!! Even if this doesn't last too long, I think there's great potential here for an absolutely amazing relationship/fling! The chemistry here is just insane… I don't know if it's this person themselves, or if it's actually the result of you two coming together, but I'm feeling HOT. I'm blushing. I'm excited. There's just so much passion here! I think this person is a smooth talker; not necessarily the most extroverted or talkative, but when they do talk to you, you can't help it but feel absolutely charmed. They are good-looking, smart, polite. I get a very venusian vibe coming them. They may put a lot of effort into how they look, not by vanity but because they genuinely like to take care of themselves + find it unmannerly to go out looking like a mess.

As for what's on their mind, my dear pile 3, I have good news for you! They have noticed you and thought about you before, and everything's very positive. They find you attractive, interesting, and a great catch, really. It also seems like they may have heard quite a bit about you (coming from others), and whatever was said gave them a very good impression on you, so even if you're not that well acquainted, they hold you in high regard already. However, with this 2oW, I feel like they may have other options, and if you don't make it clear that you want to explore a relationship with them, the opportunity might just pass you by. I actually don't see them making that move themselves, I'm sorry… There are other things/people holding their attention at the moment and for the foreseeable future. Still, The Strength rx + Queen of Cups at the bottom of the deck = the potential is here, and so is the chemistry I was talking about. Once you get this started, there's no stopping it! You'll be pulled in and taken on the most amazing ride.

⋆ extra messages:

E names. Emily. Emmett. Emerson. Soccer/football. Lia/Leah. India. Indya. I + IY/YI names. 2016 being a significant year - moving, meeting, Instagram following. June. Born on the 6th of the month. History. Brown hair and green eyes. Hazel eyes. Hazelnut. German family or travelling to Germany. Studying architecture or building architectural models. Learning french.

⋆ channeled song: Rihanna - Love On The Brain

Pile 4 || ♣️ cards: justice rx, page of cups rx, five of cups, page of pentacles rx, eight of pentacles

There's something very sad about this person and this pile. Your crush may have been or may be going through a difficult period, yet I feel like they've been doing their best to hide it. They laugh a lot, smile all day, joke around, but on the inside they are going through something that has been bringing them down. I think they feel lost, confused, alone. Maybe it's a family matter (like a divorce or some kind of separation), or perhaps it's just that, for some reason, they are now being forced to leave their home, friends and/or family, and it just hasn't been easy to them to accept and deal with that. There's a loss of stability here, and a loss of community. It could've happened already, too, by the way - they may already be in separation from their loved ones or away from the place they were used to calling home. On a positive note, I feel like this is temporary and they'll recover soon. It's just a low point for them. Also, they may be dealing with some concerns regarding their future and where to go next (professionally, academically, etc.), and that only adds to it all. As for the two of you, my dear pile 3, it seems like right now just isn't the right moment for anything to happen here. You can offer them friendship, some comfort, advice, support, but that's about it, I believe. This person has a lot to figure out at the moment, on their own, and whatever they have to offer you doesn't seem to be exactly what you need or want, deep down. It would lead to heartbreak, most likely. Still, this feels so sweet and so warm. So, maybe, you should give it some time and then give it a try… Because, honestly, I do think this person has some good feelings for you (or could grow some good feelings for you, if you aren't yet acquainted). They may not know what those are exactly, but I still think something really good could bloom from this.

⋆ extra messages:

A names. Adam. Adrienne. Greenland. Finland. Art class. Discussing or studying politics. Georgia. G names. Galicia. Meeting or seeing their father/father figure for the 1st time, or their father being mentioned in conversation a lot. Surgery. Torn ankle or some other leg/foot injury. Mockingbird. Buzzcut. Red nail polish.

⋆ channeled song: Billie Eilish - Bored

deck used || Tarot of the New Vision

(Disclaimer: Based on current energies. All is alleged and for entertainment purposes only.)

[the-modern-typewriter]

Can i get an immortal villain×mortal hero please please please🥺

I'll give you my croissants 🥐🥐🥐

"How would you like to die?" the villain asked. Their eyes were closed where they sat upon a park bench, head tipped back to the cool breeze and the clear blue sky.

The hero stopped, a little uncertain, but not exactly startled.

"I've tried every kind of death," the villain said. "I can make a recommendation if you prefer."

"I'm not going to die."

The villain's lips twisted - a smile, of sorts. "All mortals die. It is the linchpin of their condition."

"I won't die because of you."

The villain's smile broadened. "Drowning, perhaps. Or maybe suffocation. I don't want to disturb the ducks."

"Why those in particular?"

The villain finally deigned to open their eyes at the question, considering the hero where they stood. The hero couldn't quite read the villain's expression, but their voice remained casual. "Everyone always thinks they can survive those ones. If they just thrash, just fight, hard enough. Then they go very still and very quiet when they realise they can't. You have time to realise what's going to happen to you, see."

"Nice to see you at least put thought into your craft."

"What can I say, I'm a sweetheart. You only get one death."

"But you don't."

"You've done some research. Not enough," the villain added, tipping their head, "seeing as you're still standing there talking to me. But some. Kudos. I guess we'll see if you're brave or stupid."

"I'm not trying to kill you."

"Contain me. Incapacitate me." The villain waved a dismissive hand. "You might save your generation, perhaps, if you get lucky. Are you feeling lucky?"

"I'm not trying to do that either."

"Oh?" The villain sat up a little, finally tuning in properly to the conversation. "Are you not a hero? You dress like one."

"I'm hoping to find a more peaceful, effective solution."

The villain slumped, bored, again. "Mm. This should be good."

"Because I have done my research," the hero said, taking another step closer. "You're immortal. You only kill people when they attack you or are in the way of you wanting something."

"As I said, I'm a sweetheart and a saint."

The hero's jaw tightened. The villain had slaughtered thousands across the decades after all. They were many things, and had lived many lives, but in none of them had they ever been a sweetheart or a saint.

"And what you want most," the hero ploughed on, "other than your comfortable life, is not to be bored. There's no end, after all. So you need distraction. Diversion. Something to make time a little less of of a prison."

The villain was silent for a long moment, watching the hero. "I take it back," they said, finally. "I'm going to drive a knife through your ribs. Nice and slow. You know it's much harder to die from a stab wound than people think? Often it's the blood loss that gets ya."

"And then what?"

The villain shrugged. "Feed the ducks. Go back to my book. Make Christmas lights out of your bones. The possibilities are endless!"

"Sounds lonely."

"You think you're the first to try this, don't you?"

"I think you haven't met me before."

"Maybe I will entertain myself with you," the villain said. "Maybe I'll destroy your life and the live of everyone you talk to from now on. That could be fun. It's been a while since I've been so personal a devil."

Despite themselves, the hero swallowed. Despite their resolve, they considered walking away. Just for a moment.

The villain pushed to their feet, tossing their paperback carelessly aside.

The hero squared their shoulders. They felt their suddenly-fragile feeling heart begin to race. They let the villain stop in front of them, they tried not to let out a desperate shudder as the villain's fingers wrapped around their throat.

"Pick an option," the villain said, caressing their pulse. "Lose air. Lose blood. Or lose everything, but get a few more years before you go. If you ask really nicely, I might even make it quick. "

The hero shifted. They passed through the villain's fingers as if it were nothing, as if the villain were nothing. A ghost. Untouchable.

When the villain turned, the hero sat on the bench the villain had vacated. They made a show of picking up the villain's book, willing their once-more solid fingers not to tremble.

The villain raised an eyebrow. "Phasing. Cute."

"I don't age when I'm in ghost mode. Any injuries I have heal. If someone kills me, I stay dead, presumably. I'm mortal, as you say, but..."

"Hard to kill."

"Hardest you'll find. Or does the challenge scare you?"

"Determined little martyr, aren't you?"

"Not like you have anything to lose experimenting. You have all the time in the world."

"You realise I don't have to honour any deal now that you've revealed your hand? I could just hunt you and continue hurting other people, especially now I know how much it bothers me."

"I'll disappear."

"I have all the time in the world. I'd find you eventually."

"I guess then I'd just vanish again, if you don't want to play ball."

"You really are just the cutest, aren't you?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Maybe." The villain held out a hand for their book. "I haven't decided. Buy me lunch. See if you can keep my interest for more than five minutes."

"Lunch."

"There's a new cafe I haven't tried. Apparently they make their own croissants."

"You want to go to lunch with me?"

"No, I want to go to lunch. All this talk of bloodshed is giving me the munchies! But I'm assuming you're currently planning to haunt me, so you may as well pay. Unless you want me to just...kill anyone who tries to charge me."

"No! No."

"That's what I thought. Great minds."

The hero pushed to their feet, as the villain had, tentatively offering them their book back. They weren't entirely sure if that encounter had gone well or not.

The villain smiled, full of teeth, eyes gleaming.

"For your sake, little hero, do try not to be boring."

And, so, they went for lunch.

[zedecksiew]

DECOLONISING D&D

In 2019, after seeing yet another round of alarmist discourse in Xwitter about how Dungeons & Dragons is FULL of COLONIALIST tropes and patterns, and needs to be revised, SCRUBBED of its PROBLEMATIC FILTH---I rage-tweeted this brainfart:

"Decolonising D&D"

I've seen this thread round the community, since. Humza K quotes it in Productive Scab-picking: On Oppressive Themes in Gaming. Prismatic Wasteland quotes it in Apolitical RPGs Don't Exist. Most recently, it was referenced in a 1999AD post about Western TTRPGs (an interesting discussion on its own merit; one that already has a counterpoint from Sandro / Fail Forward.)

If folks are still referring to it five years later, maybe I should give the thread a little more credit? Perhaps the fart miasma has crystalised into something concrete.

In the interest of record / saving this thought from the ephemerality of Xwitter, here is the text in full, properly paragraphed, and somewhat more cleanly expressed:

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"DECOLONISING D&D"

Firstly: saying "D&D is colonialist" is similar to saying: "the English language is colonialist".

If your method of decolonising RPGs is to abandon D&D---well, some folks abandon English; they don't want to work in the language of the coloniser. More power to them!

For those who want to continue using the "language" of D&D---

Going forth into the "wild hinterland" (as if this weren't somebody's homeland);

to "seek treasure" (as if this didn't belong to anybody);

and "slay monsters" (monsters to whom?)

Yeah. There's some problematic stuff here, and definitely these aspects should make more people uncomfortable.

But! I think it is an error to "decolonise D&D" by scrubbing such content from the game.

That feels like erasure; like an unwillingness to face history / context; like a way to appease one's own settler guilt.

Do you live in the West? Do you live in any Asian urban metropole? White or Person of Colour(tm)---you are already complicit in colonialist / capitalist (yes, of course they are inextricably linked) behaviour. (I can't speak for urban metropoles elsewhere, but I bet they are similar centres of extraction.)

Removing such patterns from the TTRPGs you play might let you feel better, at your game table. But won't change what you are.

I think it is more truthful and more useful NOT to avert one's eyes from D&D's colonialism.

The fact that going forth into the hinterland to seek treasure and slay monsters is a thing, and fucking fun, tells us valuable things about the shape and psychology of colonialism. Why conquistadors in the past did it; why liberal foreign policy, corporations, and post-colonial societies do it today.

Speaking personally:

I write stuff that evokes / deals with the context I'm in---Southeast Asia. An intrinsic part of that is looking at the ways colonial violence has happened to us---as well as the ways / reasons we now, supposedly free, perpetrate it on others.

A long chain of suffering. Heavy stuff.

I also write for people who want to have fun / kill monsters / pretend to be elves, of course. But for those people who want to consider serious stuff like colonialism: I offer no FIGHT THE POWER righteousness, no good feeling, no answers.

Only discomfort. Because the truth is uncomfortable.

Here's a screenshot of the Author's Note for Lorn Song of the Bachelor:

"Any text inspired by Southeast Asia has to reckon with colonialism ... This text presents a difficult situation; there are no easy solutions. "... If I offered a mechanical incentive for you to fight colonial invaders, you wouldn’t be making a moral decision, but a mercenary one. "The choice you face should echo ... the kind of calculus my grandparents faced."

I stand by that.

Also: might we be more precise and more careful about using the term "decolonising", please?

Here I quote Tuck and Yang's landmark and (sadly) still trenchant "Decolonization is not a metaphor":

"Decolonization brings about the repatriation of Indigenous land and life; it is not a metaphor for other things we want to do to improve our societies ..."

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Further Reading

So this post isn't just me reheating a hot take, here are some touchstone writings from around the TTRPG community about colonialism as a subject and mode of play in games:

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"Jim Corbett was called upon to hunt down another fifty maneaters over the course of the next 35 years. Together, those tigers had killed over 2000 people, for much the same reasons as the Champawat Tiger - injury, desperation, starvation, and habitat loss. Would you look at that. The root cause was British colonialism."

D&D Doesn't Understand What Monsters Are from Throne of Salt

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"Another effect of having colonizers in my setting would be giving players the opportunity to drive them away from the islands, their home. This maybe just be for the catharsis. After all, isn’t catharsis a big part of why we play roleplaying games?"

I’m Adding Colonizers To My Setting from Goobernut's Blog

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"When you have a slime boy and the other characters are a really fat lizard and one's playing Humpty Dumpty, it completely shatters the straight-faced serious authoritarian illusion of race, and replaces it with complete fucking nonsense. I love the idea of proliferating the number and types of "races" into absurdity, to the point where the entire logical structure of it collapses in on itself and race as a category ceases to become coherent or meaningful in any sense."

Interview with Ava Islam - Designer of the RPG Errant from Ava Islam / The Lost Bay

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"Perhaps most critically, the fundamental basis of power is not land or even money but manpower. That’s what local rulers fight over, and what Chinese commercial networks export, in return for unique island products. It’s what the European colonists really need (even if it’s not what they most desire). There is rich loot to be grabbed in the form of spices, Spanish silver, Indian gold, sea cucumbers (the Chinese love ’em), perfumes, dyes, cloth etc. so there’s ample opportunity for piracy, trade and smuggling, but the key to long-term success – the key to independent survival – is nakedly and unquestionably uniting people."

Counter-colonial Heistcrawl: previous high scores from Richard's Dystopian Pokeverse

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"They worked their own land—which they dispossessed from American Indians—or became small shop owners or opportunistic gold diggers or bounty hunters or itinerant ranchers. To me, substituting these situations for one ruled by industrial monopoly ignores that the Wild West is a perfect example of how capitalism operates outside of (or prior to) mass industry, instead being composed of self-employers and self-sustainers."

Fantastic Detours - Frontier Scum from Traverse Fantasy / Bones of Contention

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"... using the Western framing and D&D's baked-in imperialist and capitalist structure to get people earnestly participating in the experience of forming imperial power structures and the early roots of regional capitalism ... The PCs aren't the drifters on the train or the townsfolk watching with apprehension - they're the railroad itself."

An Arrow for the General: Confronting D&D-as-Western in the Kalahari from A Most Majestic Fly Whisk

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[sp-ud]

And while I'm on my Mouthwashing analysis arc, I had some realizations about how I think Daisuke's character plays into the message Mouthwashing is trying to tell about the cycle of rape culture, inaction, and how workplace environments are a key part of why the cycle is in place.

So my realization started with me complaining about how people often go "If Daisuke had known what happened to Anya he would have-" because we don't truly know what he would have done. Then I realized, actually maybe that's the point of Daisuke in Mouthwashing.

What I mean by that is he's the youngest of the crew, not only that but he literally has no other real job experience. He's incredibly new to all of this, he doesn't know the culture and is looking at those around him, his superiors, for direction and guidance. He's a young adult who still has starry eyes and is trying his best to live up to the expectations everyone around him has even though he feels personally directionless and unsure where he wants to go in life.

Things I think a lot of Mouthwashing's audience can relate to those aspects of Daisuke, or at least significant parts of him. And I think that is the key to understanding Daisuke's purpose in a story like Mouthwashing, to be someone likeable that the audience can see themselves reflected in.

Bringing this back to how I think this plays into the message of Mouthwashing. I think the fact that we ultimately don't know what Daisuke would do if he learned that Jimmy raped Anya is important.

Because we can't 100% say that he would do anything. Because his actions within the story honestly indicate it could go either way in my opinion. Specifically what he does when Anya has locked herself in the medical room.

On one hand, we have the fact that despite him having a better relationship with Swansea and being unsure if drugging him is okay or not, he still goes with it as it's what Jimmy, the current acting captain, is saying to do. He questions it but he doesn't protest or take a different action. He deferred to the highest authority in the situation, even though he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, even though it involved tricking his mentor who he clearly looks up to more than he does Jimmy.

But on the other hand, we also see him directly going against what Swansea told him about not going near that vent because he could get hurt, for Anya's sake. Willing to ignore what he was instructed to do just to have a chance at saving Anya. And even after he was hurt he still kept going, he still pulled himself up and unlocked the door.

So, if Anya had told him, what would he have done? Would he have risked his own standing and possibly even his safety with the higher authority figures for her sake? For doing what's right? Or would he be scared? Perhaps see the others inaction and follow their example even if he felt it wasn't the right thing to do?

What would you have done? What will you do if a co-worker/friend confides in you that someone else you know, perhaps even a higher up, sexually assaulted them?

And that's why even though what prompted me thinking about Daisuke's role was me being annoyed at people who focus on "What Daisuke would have done if knew?", I now see it differently. As people reflecting what they hope they'd do if in a similar situation on to Daisuke, and I think that's the point of his character in Mouthwashing and why we aren't given an indication of a clear answer.

To have us acknowledge that no, in reality, it can be hard to do what's right. That sometimes we will play into these toxic and harmful cultures even if we know it's wrong. And sometimes we might do it without even realizing it.

But that doesn't make anyone a bad person. Because we do want to do what's right, we don't want to be compliant in this cycle anymore. And acknowledging that it will be hard isn't saying that we shouldn't even try, it's just acknowledging that it'll be hard.

Daisuke represents the hope that things can improve while not ignoring the uncertainty many people have if it's even possible for things to get better.

[dunmeshistash]

I've been having a bunch of ideas kinda float around my mind like little screensavers that I didn't feel like putting on paper, but one of these ideas just so happened to hit a corner, and it gave me an idea for what might perhaps be a bit of a silly (and oddly specific) question, but one I was very interested in asking nonetheless. Especially after reading your long post on the Demon's perspective of Laios' backstory. I really hope you don't mind.

While my memory's a tad blurry on how the scene played out in detail, I still find Laios' confrontation with the demon to be one of my favorite scenes. Definitely top 5. It's the one where Laios secretly orders Izutsumi to execute him at the slightest hint of suspicion. That one. I think that scene is among my favorites because it's both a perfect demonstration of Laios' remarkable cleverness hidden underneath all that lack of social skills, but it's also the perfect demonstration of how utterly terrifying the demon is.

At first I was under the assumption that Laios had it all under control, but the Demon's frighteningly gentle with how he twists Laios' very thoughts in a way that frames him as some sort of misanthropist, and the Winged Lion's words seemingly foil whatever plan Laios may have had. It made me think that Laios had failed, and Izutsumi's orders to lob his head off may have been a fail safe because he didn't know if he could successfully thwart the Demon's plans.

However, after finishing the story, extras, etc; I started thinking that perhaps failing was all part of Laios' plan, too. At least partially. Perhaps he realised that the only way to outsmart and ultimately best the Demon, was to let the Demon win. Perhaps he concluded that the only way for him to stand a chance against the Demon was to lose, to be at the Demon's mercy, to have his words utterly twisted; because he couldn't just make the demon "think" he had won. The only way for the Demon, the embodiment of hunger, to think he had won, was for him to actually win.

Maybe he ordered Izutsumi to… how do you put it… "artificially shorten his lifespan" because he knew the Demon would use his love for monsters against him, and would manipulate him into wishing to become the Ultimate Strongest Monster. His recent addendum (that the Ultimate Strongest Monster can eat desires) seems to support this theory, if I remember correctly. However, I can't remember for certain. Maybe his plan was to trap the Demon in his body and kill it that way? I genuinely can't remember.

So, I was wondering if you'd be interested in answering this oddly specific and mildly stupid question: How much of Laios' interaction with the Demon was planned, and how much was him fucking around and finding out? I'd love to know your thoughts on this!

PS: Laios rocks the swag he dons as king. Would happily serve under him. PPS: I hope you have a wonderful rest of your week, Mr. Morbius! Thank you for this awesome blog. You're cool.

Hello!!!!! Yeah!!!!!! The question Kabru himself would rather not know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Same as Kabru I decided not to think too hard about but Kui definitely gave us hints that this could be the case, I don't think Laios "planned" to fail from the start, he strikes me as a very optimistic guy (as you can see with how he first thought the confrontation with Thistle could go and how he STILL tried to talk to him instead of fighting) but I think he did "prepare" somewhat for the worst case scenario, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst?

Like I don't think this part of his plan was a misdirection I think he really hoped it could be this simple? So this was plan A (although he realizes this is too optimistic I think he hopes it will work)

This part tho I'm pretty sure was partly a misdirection for his teammates, since he asks them to help him get his mind back only to tell Izutsumi to kill him at the smallest hint he lost his mind, so I think this was plan B as in "If I become the lord of the dungeon kill me so there's no more dungeon lord" which was the original canary plan

Which again is kinda confirmed by this thought bubble

I think this was plan C

He knew he no longer wished for a country where humans and monsters could coexist (because of what he saw) so I guess he had *some* idea that becoming a monster was his other wish and added that as a fail safe if plan A and B failed? I don't think he could have guessed the Demon would use his body but maybe he thought he could use the nature of the demon against him (granting his desire to become a monster even tho the monster can eat him)

As Marcille and Kabru realize tho, that might all be a coincidence and he really thought plan A or B would work lmao. WHO KNOWS Laios' mind is a mystery

I'd recommend rereading chapter 88 if you want to go thru Laios' whole plan and how the demon manipulated him, it's a great chapter (87 too with the demon origin story)

[titania-sleeps]

pleaseeee give me more human bloodbag yan x vampire reader :(( i love their angst

i was gonna post this yesterday but i fell asleep before i pressed post anyway i'm glad you enjoy it!! i wasn't sure how many people would like angst with their smut but it's one of my favorite flavors >:3

Like Dust (Sub!Bloodbag!Human!Yandere x Vampire!Reader)

more works featuring Dion: Dion Introduction, Wild Roses and Hawthorns

warning: nsfw, masturbation, messy feelings, minors DNI pls

Dion's day proceeds as normal. He greets you and the sun early in the morning, pushing the curtains aside and allowing the rays of sunshine to fall upon your form. When you awaken, every brush of his skin on your bare skin lingers for more than a second. He dresses you and you leave him for the remainder of the day.

When you are gone, he stands in your room for minutes. Minutes that turn into hours, and then he's suddenly on your sheets, his cheek pressing onto the silk of your pillowcase. Your pillow smells just like the locks of your hair he dreams of placing gentle kisses onto. He closes his eyes and inhales, your warm scent wrapping itself around him.

When he opens his eyes a second later, his breath shakes, and his hand trembles. His fingers trace the lace on your pillowcase, eyes lidded and pondering. If he were another vampire, perhaps you would take him along with you on all your trips. No, but if he were another vampire, you wouldn't feast on him as you do now.

He closes his eyes again, hand trailing down to his stomach, and then a little more. As his hand lazily sneaks its way beneath his waistband, he stifles a soft moan. Perhaps it is because he is surrounded by everything that belongs to you, but when he blinks, he sees a hazy blur that resembles your silhouette.

Dropping his free hand to cover his eyes, he opens his mouth and lets out an unfiltered cackle. Oh, how pitiful he is... like a lonely rabbit abandoned by its owner, hallucinating the presence of its master. He grabs his member with his hand, gripping it tightly.

At this moment, he can't help but let himself imagine the unforgivable. The thought that, in this very room, it could be you and him in this bed instead of him alone, and your hands on him instead of his own. What would your touch feel like? Maybe you'd be gentle with him, a graceful smile on your countenance as you bring him to the pinnacle of his pleasure. Or maybe you'd be like a blessing from the hells, skillfully bringing him to the edge only to push him back into his abyss of yearning and endless wanting.

His hand begins to move before he is conscious of it. It strokes lightly up his length first and he chokes back a licentious groan. He is blinking and in every empty moment, he forms you in his mind. His hand is your hand, and suddenly it's you that is caressing him so harshly, so softly.

"Ngh... Ah..." he whimpers, as the pace of his hand quickens in his underwear.

You are there, ever so clear, your cold demeanor clashing with the ghost of a loving smile dancing on your lips. You're so cruel; he knows that you do not hate him, so why do you act so distant? He can convince you that what he feels isn't a byproduct of some mystical vampiric bonding. So please, just give him a chance to prove to you that he is full and genuine in his emotions for you. If you'd let him, he would bring all that is golden to your feet. He would eliminate all silver in the world for a simple, fleeting glance of acknowledgment.

His hips buck into his hand and he gasps, saliva pooling on your pillowcase and precum leaking onto your pristine sheets. He pauses only for a moment and then giggles escape his throat. He wishes you were here to admonish him for his greediness. Perhaps you would give him a slap to his cheek, letting it blossom in red, and then bite him to punish him for his wrongdoings. Just the thought has him whining.

In a swift movement motivated by desperation, he foregoes his pants and presses his bare cock against the cotton of your bedding. This bed has touched your bare skin; it has enveloped your vessel with its meager softness. He clutches the sheets in his hand, bringing them to his nose as he grinds against them.

Dion moans, his hips uncontrollable and his will unwavering. Your name slips out his mouth several times, but he doesn't correct himself. In this room, there is only him and your presence. When he moans your name, he dedicates every syllable to you, his eternal master. He thrusts into the sheets, his mind dreamily trailing to the thought of being wrapped in your warmth. He doesn't dare to explore the possibility for too long, however, because he loves you too dearly to bastardize the vision of you. But he can't help himself to just imagine... imagine for just another second what it would be like if you were caressing him with your body. If, instead of pleading for you, his skin can talk to your skin, and your mouths can kiss and bite in unison.

The air is thick with the scent of his sweat and your natural perfume, and he's staining the sheets with his audacity. With every precise thrust, he begs for you to return. Should you catch him at this very moment, you would surely be livid. And that anger is what he wishes to embrace with his naked form; every bruise, every puncture will be another trophy on his battle-worn body.

His breath hitches as he feels a familiar rush from the base of his cock rising to meet the tip. His nails dig into your bedsheets and his back arches. Closing his eyes, savoring the moment, he releases onto your pillow. He's shaking and quivering, bringing the pillow closer to softly grind onto it as he rides his climax out. He can only think of you, you, you, you. Your scent and his fluids mixing on the pillow, your sheets sullied by his immodesty, your eyes piercing into his guilty appearance.

And as though he were prophetic, he hears your footsteps outside your room, and the doorknob twists.

back to the kinktober grind, adonis and sea spirit are next on my to do list tho

-> masterlist

[dvilsdesire]

// Something that I find very curious about Raphael. It appears that most devils don't seem to wear a lot of clothes, or to say, their armour is still pretty revealing. Understandable in places like Avernus where it's likely very hot, but even in pics we see in places like Cania, the Cold Lord Mephisto still doesn't appear to wear a whole lot of clothes (usually shirtless, or skin showing still). Then there are those devils that don't even REQUIRE clothes (or maybe they just wear loincloths).

Raphael, even in cambion form (since his clothes don't change), seems rather conservative compared to other devils we see. Dressed fully, clothes that cover almost every inch of him save for his face and hands. Even when he DOES get "armour", it's ridiculous little knee guards and around his hips. Armour that isn't really covering a lot, perhaps because devils just don't make suits of entire armour so he made do with what he had?

The cambions at the start of the game in the Nautaloid are bared skin, Yurgir has bared skin, I suppose we could also go off Karlach's clothes as well, which has bare skin (since she was a soldier of Avernus). Mizora, a cambion, DOES wear a dress that definitely covers most of her body, but even Mizora is sexualised, with the open leg seems and her breasts being revealed (because of course devils are supposed to be alluring).

Obviously Raphael enjoys the sight of himself in skimpy clothes, otherwise I doubt Haarlep would be dressed in that little leather harness we see. Even more curious, what if Haarlep wears these things because Raphael can't? He likes to SEE himself in them, but maybe he doesn't have the confidence to do it himself?

Also obviously Raphael is playing an act in the sense that he likely feels more appropriately dressed before Tav etc, and looks smart compared to the whole 'evil devil' look.

I just find it curious. Just another little Raph being dramatic and so very Raphael in his theatrical attire. Looking proper and prim, because he obviously loves himself so much and must look pretty for his clients. Perhaps Raphael is very "there's a time and a place"?

I just find it fascinating, and I bet other devils look at his attire and roll their eyes. Raphael, the outcast, always doing things differently to stand out from his own kind. Perhaps it's entirely a status thing as well? Maybe it's a message? Who knows! I just found it interesting that Raphael is one of the only devils that seems to dress extremely conservatively (maybe he's not as confident as we all believe him to be after all?).

I have a LOT of Raphael thoughts lately >.< and they are eating at me from the inside, I'm trying to hold them in but they're starting to just burst from the seams lol.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

The Dry Spell

It's fairly common knowledge that first responders work long shifts together, often 24 or 48 hours at a time. This kind of togetherness builds strong bonds and makes it nearly impossible to keep secrets. Which was why the entire station seemed to know that Buck and Tommy were in a bit of a dry spell right now.

Buck was in the locker room, changing after a particularly grueling shift. He didn't mean to start venting, but Hen had asked how things were going at home, and before he knew it, he was spilling his guts.

"I mean, it's been over 3 weeks," Buck said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "And yes, partially it's been us having opposite schedules, but it hasn't only been that. It's just...3 weeks. I'm starting to go crazy."

Hen nodded sympathetically, leaning against the lockers. "That's rough, Buckaroo. Have you talked to Tommy about it?"

Buck sighed, closing his locker with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "I've tried, but every time I bring it up, something comes up. A call, Emmett needs something, one of us is too tired... It's like the universe is conspiring against us."

He lowered his voice, glancing around to make sure no one else was within earshot. "And the worst part? I'm turned on like, all the time now. It's getting ridiculous. Yesterday, I got distracted during dinner because Tommy reached across the table for the salt. The salt, Hen!"

Hen tried to suppress a smile, but failed. "Oh, Buck. You've got it bad."

"I know," Buck groaned. "It's like I'm a teenager again. I can't focus. Every little thing Tommy does is suddenly the hottest thing I've ever seen. This morning, he was just getting ready for his shift, putting on his flight suit, and I nearly lost it."

"Maybe you two need to schedule some alone time," Chimney chimed in as he walked into the locker room. "You know, make it a priority."

Buck flushed red. "Chim! How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know you're about to combust," Chimney teased. "Seriously though, Buck. Talk to your husband. I'm sure he's feeling it too."

Buck nodded, trying to ignore the embarrassment creeping up his neck. "Yeah, you're right. I just... I miss him, you know? Not just the physical stuff, but the intimacy, the connection. Though right now, I wouldn't say no to the physical stuff either." Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and a sly grin spread across his face. "Wait a minute, Chim. Does this mean you're offering to babysit Emmett?"

Chimney's eyes widened as he realized the implication of his advice. "I, uh..."

Hen burst out laughing. "Oh, he's got you there, Chim! You can't give advice without being willing to back it up."

Chimney sighed dramatically, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Fine, fine. Maddie and I can take Emmett for a night. But I don't want to hear any details, got it?"

Buck's face lit up. "Chim, you're a lifesaver! I promise, no details. Just... thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Chimney waved him off, but he was smiling. Just make it count, Buckaroo."

Buck's blush deepened, but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Finally, a chance for some alone time with Tommy. Now he just had to make it through his shift without spontaneously combusting at the thought.

It took everything in Buck's power not to speed home. As soon as he walked through the door, he called out, "Tommy!"

"In the kitchen, babe," Tommy's voice replied.

Buck rushed into the kitchen, his eyes wild with excitement. "Pack Emmett a bag. We gotta go!"

Tommy turned from the stove, spatula in hand, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What? Slow down. What are you talking about?"

"Sex," Buck blurted out, his cheeks flushing. "Lots of sex. So much sex."

Tommy's eyebrows shot up, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "Interesting, but I'm still not sure I follow."

Buck took a deep breath, trying to calm himself enough to explain coherently. "Okay, so I may have been venting at work about our... dry spell. And Chimney offered to babysit Emmett for the night so we could have some alone time."

Understanding dawned on Tommy's face, followed quickly by a mischievous grin. "Oh, I see. And you're in such a hurry because...?"

"Because," Buck said, stepping closer to Tommy, his voice dropping low, "I've been going crazy thinking about you all day. Do you know how distracting you are? This morning, watching you put on your flight suit... I nearly lost it right there."

Tommy's eyes darkened with desire. "Is that so?" he murmured, setting down the spatula and wrapping his arms around Buck's waist.

"Mhmm," Buck hummed, leaning in for a kiss. "I've been imagining all the things I want to do to you once we're alone."

Just as their lips were about to meet, they heard the patter of little feet.

"Daddy! Papa!" Emmett's voice called out.

They broke apart, both chuckling but with heat still in their eyes. "I'll go pack his bag," Tommy said, pressing a quick kiss to Buck's cheek. "You go tell him he's having a sleepover with Aunt Maddie and Uncle Chim."

As Tommy headed upstairs, Buck called after him, "I'll text Maddie to pick him up. The sooner they get here..."

Tommy paused at the top of the stairs, throwing a smoldering look over his shoulder. "The sooner we can pick up where we left off."

Buck grinned, anticipation coursing through him. "Exactly."

As they separated to prepare for their evening, both men felt a surge of excitement. Buck quickly sent a text to Maddie, asking if they could pick Emmett up as soon as possible. Then he went to find their son, his mind already racing with thoughts of what the night would bring once they were alone.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Buck opened it to find Maddie, Chimney, and Jee-Yun.

"Uncle Buck!" Jee exclaimed, hugging his legs.

"Hey there, munchkin," Buck said, ruffling her hair. "Thanks for coming so quickly, guys."

Chimney raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face. "No problem. Wouldn't want to keep you waiting."

Buck felt his cheeks heat up, but before he could respond, Tommy appeared with Emmett and his overnight bag.

As they said their goodbyes to Emmett, promising to pick him up tomorrow afternoon, Buck and Tommy exchanged heated glances. The moment the door closed behind Maddie, Chimney, and the kids, Tommy turned to Buck, his eyes dark with desire.

"Now," Tommy said, his voice low and full of promise, "where were we?"

Buck lunged forward, capturing Tommy's lips in a searing kiss. Their bodies pressed together, and both men groaned at the contact, feeling the evidence of each other's arousal.

"Tommy," Buck gasped, breaking the kiss. "I need you. It's been too long."

Tommy's hands roamed Buck's back, pulling him even closer. "I know, baby. I've missed you too."

As they stumbled into their bedroom, Buck couldn't take his eyes off Tommy. The need to touch, to feel, to taste was overwhelming. Without breaking eye contact, Buck slowly sank to his knees in front of Tommy, his intentions clear.

Tommy's breath hitched, his eyes dark with desire. "Evan," he breathed, voice rough with want.

Buck's hands trembled as he reached for Tommy's belt. "Please," he murmured, "I need this. Need you."

Tommy cupped Buck's face gently, his touch a stark contrast to the urgency thrumming through both their bodies. "We've got all night, baby. Let's take our time, ok?"

Buck nodded, but didn't move from his position. The anticipation was electric, every nerve ending on fire. As Tommy's fingers carded through his hair, Buck leaned forward, ready to show his husband just how much he'd missed him.

They had hours ahead of them to reconnect, to relearn each other's bodies, to make up for lost time. And they intended to savor every moment.

[neuvigroove]

𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚.

pairings. scaramouche x fem reader synopsis. scaramouche swore to himself to protect you from dottore, but in order to do so, he must abandon you. before he leaves though, he makes sure to put a smile on your face. genre/warnings. pure angst, written in scara's pov, reader is energetic and childish, she/her pronouns used for reader, mentions of blood, stabbing, and death wc. 1.1k a/n. i actually shed a tear while writing this and listening to summertime sadness. playlist. die first - nessa barrett, summertime sadness - lana del rey, train wreck - james arthur

[2:39pm]

today is y/n's birthday.

i can see her in the near distance, skipping around like an excited little kid. she's always had too much energy for me to bear, but perhaps i've grown used to it, seeing that she's always glued to my side for some reason unknown to me.

that bliss however, will change today. dottore knows about where she's from. a planet far from the depths of teyvat. a globe dominated solely by the human race with no room for elemental power. a planet currently known as earth.

very little is known about this planet, which only causes dottore's interest to peak. her origin makes her the perfect test subject for the doctor, but i will not let him lay a dirty fingernail on her.

we cannot continue to travel as one; dottore will find her if she's with me. i don't have any cards left to play.

i do worry that leaving her alone would put her in another danger. she carries no vision, nor any strength that could compare to the creatures of teyvat. however, nothing is more dangerous than becoming an experiment of the second fatui harbinger. on the inside i know she'll be okay. she can find-

she can find my replacement. a new companion.

my only option is to watch over her from the shadows. that is the only way i can protect her.

sometimes i can tell that i hurt her feelings when we converse. but my personality is something i can't change, and she's never seemed to want change from me. perhaps that's why i've enjoyed her company more than i could ever enjoy another human being's. she understands me more than i think she does.

since i made her cry on her last birthday, i've decided that i could attempt to make her smile this time around. in my defense though, the cookies she made for us to share together were truly detrimental. but... maybe my words were too harsh. i forget what i said exactly... "you wanna poison me? are you so dumb as to have forgotten that i'm not human?"

my eyes trail back to ms. craziness and my eyes widen when she trips over a tree branch. i actually have no idea how i've been traveling together with a girl who has two left legs without dying. i don't notice the tears streaming from my eyes until she looks my way and spots me.

she runs over to me, and i quickly wipe the useless, hot tears. when i see her happy expression, i need to make an effort not to let the guilt eat me alive. i think i've admitted it to myself a while ago, but i love y/n. i'd presumed just as everyone else that i'm a puppet incapable of anything close to love, but if what i feel for y/n isn't love then i'm not sure what it is. i am positive that it is love. when you experience pain, you don't doubt it and assume it's something else. you just feel. and when i'm with her i feel.

"SCARA!" y/n exclaims as she topples me over in a hug. i nearly fall to the ground, but i'm able to catch us before it's too late. gosh, can she even contain her energy for two rational seconds?

i shove her off of me, but before i can say anything, she excitedly holds up a compass-like trinket in my face. "look! a sweet young boy gave me this lovely compass! it's supposed to lead you to wherever you'll be the happiest! and~ it led me right to you! we are just the perfect little duo, aren't we scara?"

i scoff, "and you believe that? it led you towards me because i'm standing north from where you were earlier."

y/n's excited expression drops.

"oh..." she pouts. "well... we can still pretend, right?"

pretend. maybe i can pretend she'll always be with me.

"pretending won't get you anywhere in life," i respond flatly.

"oh, but you pretend all the time," she responds. "i know you sometimes pretend that you can't hear me when i ramble about random things. although it hurts my feelings, you're still my best friend, scara."

what she said is actually not true. i in fact remember everything she rambles about in great detail. like that one time she was complaining about how she hates her hair because the wind blows it in an unattractive way. it was just so annoying because she needs to set her priorities straight. her appearance should be the last of her worries.

"give me your hand," i say. my voice is softer than i intended it to be. when she extends her hand, i slip a diamond bracelet around her wrist. on it is a charm with her nickname for me engraved in the center: scara.

please don't forget about me.

"oh, scara... it's beautiful! I'll never take it off. i promise."

"i have a matching one," i respond as i hold up my wrist for her the see.

she smiles when she sees the nickname engraved on my bracelet: princess.

there it is. her smile.

i sigh. "human, i know that you have your other shenanigans to deal with today, as do i. but meet me up that hill in the forest at sunset."

"oh, okay? scara, why are you being extra nice today?"

"um," i attempt a half smile. "it's your birthday, isn't it?"

[6:03pm]

i pick up the sword from the wet grass of the forest mountain beneath me. it's raining hard tonight. y/n is going to catch a cold, and i won't be there to care.

i walk over to the puppet standing across from me. my puppet. the puppet i've created to fake my own death. isn't it funny? the puppet of a puppet. both abandoned by their creators.

i take my bracelet off and slip it on its wrist. she has to believe it's me.

"i'm sorry," i whisper before stabbing my clone in the chest. i close my eyes when i hear my own voice cry out in a short-lived pain. it falls to the ground, lifeless as i walk away into the forest.

the bloodshed spreads with the heavy rain, and moments later, i see y/n approach the dead body. there she is.

and i feel as if my nonexistent heart has cracked in half when she screams. my eyes close in a sort of pain i've never experienced before. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, princess. it's the only way you wouldn't look for me.

i wish that a day will come where we can be partners again. but on the inside i know that her human lifespan is not long enough to fulfill that silly wish.

scaramouche fanart credit: X (Twitter) : llxx88103769

[pockeymcmockey]

𝔚𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℭ𝔥𝔢𝔡𝔡𝔞𝔯 | ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

Synopsis: The events of Blood and Cheese but told by someone else.

Warnings: Angst, death, descriptions of decapitation, insinuated touching of inappropriate places on a child (not sexually).

Author's Note: Wanted to try writing in a new point of view to make it easier for readers to place themselves as the main character.

Aelys is fussing in his crib tonight. He senses something I cannot. The twist in my stomach is unnerving, but I cannot tell the difference if it is anxiety or the babe growing in it. I comfort him the only way I know how. Brushing an index finger down the bridge of his nose, cooing him silently back to slumber, plentiful in dreams, perhaps. A brother, or perhaps a sister will be born soon. I hope for a daughter but I suppose Aelys is fit for braids as well.

A jiggle at the bedchamber door. Has Aemond returned? The boy grows restless, I think he is afraid. Is it because of his father? No. I know why, now. My heart is racing. I'm afraid, too. This smell, a rancid stench that turns my stomach and I gag. He is hungry, not for food but for something else. For me? Will he defile me? He's holding a weapon. It's cutting at my skin and it stings, but the blood tickles as it runs to soak my clothes.

He's speaking, to me, I think. Does he want coin? Jewels, maybe. I have a ring from Mother. Would he want that? I can't hear him. What is pounding in my ear? Oh... It's my heart. Yes, I am definitely afraid. I want to protect my child. I have to. But I cannot move an inch, not unless I want to meet the Gods, Old and New. Oh, he's not alone. Are they ratcatchers? The bigger one looks like a ratcatcher.

"Does she look like a fuckin' son to you?" The big one is afraid, too. I can tell. A son. They are not here for me. Are they here for Aemond? He's not here. He's away. Flea Bottom, usually. They want a son. I have a son. They'll take him. My boy. I love my boy. I can't stop them, though.

"She's the prince's lady wife," the smaller one answered. His nose presses against my jaw and it's cold. He reeks. I can't stand the smell, I might empty my stomach. He whispers words to me. He wants me to tell him if the child is a boy. I should lie. But what if they check? They'll hurt me for my untruthfulness. I'm scared. They'll hurt my baby.

"It's a boy."

The big one is touching my boy. He knows now. He's going to hurt him. Anything. Anything but my sweet Aelys. "Please..." I think I'm crying. My cheeks feel wet and my eyes sting. I can't see very well either. They're blurry. "Don't take my boy." They're not listening. They didn't listen. The short one released me, he's walking to the crib.

The large one pulled something out of his bag. Is- I can't breathe. The squelching, the smell. I run. Run out of the room and down the corridors. My belly churns. My heart feels sad and cold. I don't like this feeling. I want it to stop. There's mother's door. Mother. And Ser Criston. I fall at the bed. Clinging to my unborn child. My chest hurts. It's my heart, I think.

"They killed the boy." I think I said it out loud but my ears ring too loudly for me to tell. I wish Aemond were here. He'll be angry. He'll burn someplace I think. He always burns things when he's angry. Mother's getting dressed. Ser Criston, too. I think they heard me. I don't want to go back. Mother said I should stay here. I will.

They've returned. It's been an hour. They said they've found Aelys' head. They took my boy's head. I'm crying again. I weep for my son. Aemond is home. He stands at the door looking at me. Just looking. I think he is sad too. His eye holds a tear unshed. Is he sorry? I hope not. I don't think I could forgive him if he was.

"Are you harmed?" He asks me. I nod but I cannot speak. I have no other words to say. I miss my lovely boy. He was beautiful like his father. He was kind. Aemond looks angry again. Not at me, I think. He's kneeling now. His touch is soft when he brushes my cheek. Oh, he's wiping my tears. He tells me to sleep. That he'll be back in the morning. I know he's going to hurt them. But I listen. I don't want to sleep on the bed. The floor is comfortable.

I don't remember falling asleep but I'm awake now. I want to see the aftermath. It's upsetting. It's also lonely. The crib is gone. They're building a new one for the babe. They'll be here soon. My belly is large. I don't want another child. I want Aelys. I'm being selfish. I like being selfish. Aemond is selfish. I was alone. He was with his mistress.

I care not for a child I know not.

How ironic. The sky is lovely this morrow. The wind blows stronger. The grass grows greener. And Aelys is... beautiful.

[o-sachi]

Orter Madl Relationship Headcanons

ᯓ character; orter madl (mashle) ᯓ tags; fluff, sfw, gn reader, no y/n

[🐟]: Ngl, I had a hard time trying to make rs hcs for this guy because he's literally un-romanceable in reality SOB.

— I'm not sure how you managed to bag this guy. But... congrats. Like, truly, you deserve it. Up until dating you, this guy has never shown an ounce of interest in romance AT ALL. Perhaps you could say that his type is simply "you"?

— But maybe he gets into a relationship since it's transactional; he gets something from you and you get something from him. He has always been a rational person, so this is the only way he can rationalize something like "love" if he even believes in such a concept.

— Perhaps he'll give more of his time to you than any other person. Not that he expects you to feel special because of that. Though, somehow, the transactional relationship is able to blur some boundaries and help both of you ease into spending more time with each other.

— You don't know it, but he does look out for you, especially if he gets something from you that's really valuable. He'll always be on the look for anything that's bound to threaten your safety. There have also been instances when he butts into one of your fights.

— There isn't a day when he doesn't question you or your motives. Again, he tries to rationalize everything. So he can't make sense when you do things selflessly for him. What's the point if you don't get more in return? You confused him plenty and those thoughts plague his mind more than he'd like them to.

— One day, while spending time together, he'll be staring holes in the back of your head. What's he thinking? Well, let's just say he's having the biggest crisis of his life (having thoughts/feelings that cannot be rationalized). He'll be in a pissy mood for the rest of the day, but he takes it out on everyone else but you.

— The change of heart happens excruciatingly slow, but there will be signs. Perhaps you won't notice it at first, but certainly everyone else around the two of you can see it—clear as day.

— Eventually, he starts to see your values—not as a wizard—but as a person. Your strength, unwavering determination, and goal oriented mindset all seem quite alluring to him. It just never occurred to him before that these things could mean something else out of a fight.

— Through time, he'll just let himself be drawn to you. After all, there's nothing wrong about respecting someone who upholds justice and righteousness like he does. You're strong and can hold your ground. If anyone will take up space in his life—it might as well be you.

— His idea of softening up is showing you his tough love. He knows the types of things you get yourself into as a wielder of magic, so he reminds you to get stronger everyday even if it kills you. He'll practice with you and show no mercy. In his mind, he's thinking of wanting you to become self-sufficient to the point that you can handle yourself even without him by your side.

— He hates it when other people talk about you, even praises annoy him. But if he hears anyone insult you... they'll find themselves buried 6 ft. deep under sand. Without knowing it, he thinks so highly of you now—that if anyone were to utter the mere thought of you pisses him off. At this point, he lets you walk closely by his side so that everyone knows you are not to be messed with.

— You'll never hear him say the words, "I love you." But on a special occasion—like your birthday or your anniversary— he'll do something sweet for you (much to your surprise). You walk into his training grounds, a vast space with a bunch of sand. In the middle is a big heart made out of sand with him standing right beside it. Then he says something like, "Today's a special occasion hence the shape," or something unromantic like that lol.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[yazmarina]

straight flush

zak o'sullivan (f2) x afab!reader

the triple header was hard on everyone, zak especially. it's a good thing you're there to make things better.

warnings/notes: smut, somnophilia, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fwb setup, creampie, breeding

a/n: hello everyone i am back with a present and yes I know it's zak again, he's just so fun to write and I'm obsessed (if that wasn't clear enough). this can be read as a continuation of this or just as a standalone. enjoy!

"Tough week?"

Zak merely hums as he sets his helmet down on the table in front of you. The ART tent is busy with post-race activity with team members bustling about. Victor passes by and flashes you a friendly smile just as you feel Zak sink into the seat beside you.

"Tough month," Zak admits, running a hand frustratedly through his hair. Your heart clenches when you see the deep creases in between his brows.

"Triple headers are always hard," you offer, laying a reassuring hand on Zak's knee. He glances up at you and his face immediately softens, his shoulders sagging as if your touch had eased the tension in his body.

You've been with Zak all throughout the three consecutive races, going under the guise of being a supportive friend, but an unprompted, a-little-more-than-friendly encounter in Monaco after his win had left the two of you in a sort of limbo, hands wandering and lips finding each other in dark corners.

You thought it was a one-off thing. Maybe a two-off. Three times is enough, you said. Your conservative estimate now would be between five and ten.

Though, admittedly, you like having Zak's attention like this. In the weeks between Monaco and Barcelona, so intense was his yearning for you that he flew you out to Yonne just to see you during the days he'd be cooped up at the sim at headquarters. You'd flown out together to Spain and ART was gracious enough (or perhaps perceptive) to provide you with passes for the next few weeks.

And now, in rainy Silverstone, your hand finds its place once again in his.

Zak rests his arm on the backrest of your chair, his head tilting closer to yours. You feel him place a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Not here," you immediately whisper, swatting at Zak's thigh.

"What? Can't I kiss my partner around here?" Zak questions, leaning in once more. You pull away before he can even make contact.

"But I'm not your partner," you say, giving Zak a pointed look.

Zak shrugs. "They think you are."

"But I'm not," you repeat, voice dropping to a whisper. "That stuff is only reserved for the bedroom, remember?"

Zak chuckles, eyes glancing up for a moment as if recalling a fond memory.

"We didn't really do it in the bedroom in Monaco–ow!"

Your fingers pinch harshly at Zak's side, eyes widening threateningly at him. He sighs, taking your hand in his before planting a sweet kiss on your palm.

"Go on back to the hotel," Zak suggests. "I'll be there right after debrief."

"I hope you like it when I'm asleep because a nap sounds good right now," you respond teasingly before giving him a playful shove.

You stand up, grabbing Zak's shoulder firmly before walking out of the tent.

-

It turns out, in fact, that you really needed that nap.

You didn't even bother changing out of the dress you had on for the day as you slumped onto Zak's hotel bed. You felt bad for a split second, figuring that if you were this tired, then Zak must feel even worse. All was forgotten, however, when the heaviness of your eyelids took over.

Slowly emerging from your slumber now, the first thing you notice is the stillness in the room around you. It's the same as when you fell asleep but the walls are awash with the fading light of dusk streaming in from the large window opposite you. But a slight shift in the air alerts you more, the remnants of sleep fading away steadily.

You feel a warm touch travel up your exposed thigh, all the way under your dress, which had hiked up considerably in your sleep.

You inhale, shifting to your side, nearly fully awake now. Zak's face swims into view, his expression etched with mild concern as he eyes you. He's back in his team kit, phone in hand as if mid-scroll, his upper body propped up against the headboard. You glance down to see that his hand still rests on your thigh, large and rough against your supple skin.

"Slept well?" he asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face. You mumble an unintelligible version of 'yes' before sidling up to his side, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He smells as race day usually does–sweat, a hint of fuel, rubber, his perfume, hotel soap.

Zak chuckles and you feel the sound rumble through his body. You feel yourself drifting off again but you try to fight it, worrying that Zak might need you right now. A listening ear, perhaps, or a shoulder to cry on.

"Still tired, babe?" Zak asks, pulling you closer.

"A bit," you admit. You pull back slightly to look at him. "You should be the one resting, though."

Zak just smiles, leaning in. He kisses you firmly and you sigh, your arm weakly thrown around his neck.

"I'll rest in a bit," Zak whispers against your lips. "You should go back to sleep."

You blink, studying Zak's face for a moment. You're close to taking his advice, but you know he's itching for something and he's just too much of a gentleman to say so.

"You can...you know," you begin, reaching down to slowly undo the front buttons of your dress.

"While I'm asleep."

Zak visibly gulps, eyes going wide as he takes in what you're suggesting. You let your dress fall open, exposing your stomach and your chest. You let your eyes close again your hand lazily guiding Zak's in between your legs.

"Only if you want to, though," you add with a hint of a smirk.

"Are you sure?" Zak questions, voice low and quiet. You peek an eye open, giggling at how worried he looks.

"Yes. I trust you, Zak."

You close your eyes again and exhale, letting your breathing even out. You genuinely are still drowsy but you feel wetness pool between your legs at the anticipation of whether or not Zak is going to bite at your proposition.

Nothing happens for a few seconds and you're convinced Zak is going to refuse and the two of you will just nap until the early hours of the morning. But the bed sinks around you and you feel Zak's large hands smooth down your sides.

"Safe word is still Monaco," Zak whispers before kissing behind your ear. He makes his way down your neck and over your chest, pulling one of your bra's cups down to expose your aching nipple.

You sigh, teetering between wakefulness and sleep, as Zak suckles on your nub. His hand reaches down and slips expertly into your underwear, as he's done many times before. You groan as his fingers quickly find your clit, Zak now perfectly acquainted with your body.

The thought sends your heart thumping.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps, eyes fluttering as you keep them closed. You feel yourself get wetter and wetter as Zak rubs delicately over you, his tongue mimicking the movements on your teat.

"So pretty," Zak mumbles against your skin. "Can I use you, babe? Let me blow off some steam?"

You don't answer. Zak chuckles, pulling away. He yanks your open dress off your shoulders, maneuvering you around as he pries it completely off you. The next thing to go is your panties, tugged down impatiently, in such haste that they dangle almost pathetically on one of your legs.

Your eyes fly open when you feel your body flip over, your face smushed against the pillow and your arms splayed awkwardly. You whine helplessly, glancing back at Zak. His eyes are dark as he stares down at your motionless form, his hands working to undo his belt and zipper.

"Go back to sleep," Zak coaxes, pulling his bottoms down just enough to let his cock spring free. He leans down and kisses your forehead, a sigh escaping your lips as you close your eyes once more.

"Good girl," Zak whispers. He parts your legs and you feel him angle himself at your entrance. He pushes in halfway through and you let out a strangled moan, arching back into Zak's frame.

"Fuck," he mutters, grabbing your hips and sheathing all the way in. You slump forward, burying your face into the pillow as you accommodate the stretch between your legs.

Zak presses his weight down on you, effectively trapping you beneath him as he fucks you harshly. He grunts loudly in your ear, nearly animalistic in the way he moves. You let yourself get manhandled, limp as a ragdoll as Zak pulls you even closer against him, the desperation evident. He's angry, of course. Annoyed. Frustrated. The past three weeks have been hell for him, this weekend, especially. A home race to forget.

"Oh, sweetheart," Zak coos sweetly. "So good for me, letting me use you like this."

It's almost a crushing feeling in your chest with the way Zak has you pinned down, but you gasp and sigh and mewl, drooling all over the sheets, all the while your eyes are still closed.

"Z-Zak...," you manage to croak out.

"I know, baby, I know," he says through gritted teeth. "I'm almost there. Wanna cum in you so bad."

You whine in mock protest, making a move to grab at Zak's arm that's snaked around your torso. He holds you even tighter against him.

He doesn't let up in the slightest, slamming his hips down roughly against yours repeatedly. He's digging his nails into your hips now and you know for a fact that you'll wake up tomorrow bruised in several places. But you don't mind. Not when it feels this good to have Zak take his anger out on you.

"God, fuck–!"

Zak doesn't even finish speaking before he groans right in your ear, pressing further into you as he spills himself inside. You pant as the exhilaration in your chest comes to a boil, the feeling of Zak twitching and emptying himself in you turning you on even more.

You take in a big gulp of air as you feel the weight lift off you, Zak hastily rolling onto one side of the bed. A yawn escapes you as you blink the bleariness away from your eyes.

"Feel better?" You ask, reaching for Zak's hand.

He grins, so widely it makes you laugh. Zak squeezes your palm, pressing a long, tender kiss to the top of your head.

"Always better when I'm with you."