#so guess that's the only one goin up boys | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jezebelblues · 1 month ago

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burning hill | h.s

summary: in which a girl feels too afraid of commitment because of her past, and the boy who knows nothing of it, falls helplessly anyway.

cw: smut18+ fingering, penetration (p in v), a smidge of spanking, mommy issues, 2016!harry, angst, i guess. all in upper case if that gets u goin. fem!reader, unedited cause i fell asleep writing this. gn. mwah :*

word count: approx 17k

| hhmm more coming of these 2 perhaps 🫵

ps: if u see any (!!!) around words or see random things in all caps, its cause that’s what i use to indicate italics/bold cause tumblr doesn’t save that i swear

It’s been fifteen months since the group announced their hiatus.

Phone calls became scarce, and so many words were left unspoken, drifting into that space where they might never find their way back. For the first time in years, he felt free—untethered from the rhythm of living intertwined with three other lives. At first, the quiet felt unbearable, like the silence after the crowd fades and the lights go down. But slowly, the loneliness began to feel like home. A strange sort of comfort in the quiet. He found a semblance of privacy—at least a bit more than he had in the band.

Harry felt that, since the hiatus, the fans had grown older with him, their wide-eyed fascination dulled by time and reality. There were fewer frantic moments, fewer desperate hands pulling at him. Now, on a good day, he could stroll through his hometown, maybe get stopped for a polite photo. Occasionally, there were still shadows trailing him—paparazzi or a fan trying to be invisible but failing, always just out of reach. He didn’t like it, not really, but he’d learned to live with it. It’s what came with the territory, a price he thought he’d long accepted.

But it was the writing that kept him grounded. Kept him real. The one thing that still felt like his own. His debut album was close to finished now, though the mixing, the rewrites, the constant tweaking—it never felt like enough. There was this tightness inside him, a knot of anxiety that refused to unravel. Would anyone like Harry styles, the solo artist? Or would they always only care about Harry, the boy in the band?

He wasn’t ungrateful, not for a second. But deep down, he craved something more. He needed the space to finally figure out what he wanted, to break free, to become something else entirely. Something new.

It’s been eight months since he met YN.

It was happenstance, through his manager—though sometimes Harry liked to imagine it was fate. It was one of those coincidences that felt too deliberate to be real, like something out of a half-finished song. She was Jeff’s goddaughter, on the periphery of his world, but until then, she’d been just another name mentioned in passing.

YN started her internship at the recording studio in the beginning of April of this year. She moved to New York with a close friend shortly after her twenty first birthday, saving up for what felt like forever, and Jeffery instantly had the idea of corroborating with the studio about an internship. He knew of her uncertainty about the future. He knew about the interest in music YN had, and he wanted to give her a chance.

Jeff had told her it was a paid internship, though it really wasn’t. He was the one who was paying her through check, under the guise of the studio. She would freak if she found out, turning it all down—Jeff knew that all too well.

Her first month was moreso about passing time. She’d work on any logistics, learning about the soundboard and how it worked hand in hand with the recording aspect, not to mention the process of remastering, mixing, finalizing. Harry was in and out those first three weeks, still finishing up a few interviews and whatnot. YN talked to him a few times when he’d pop in before taking off again, he was sweet. Still, she needed something to do until he was finally able to settle down to focus on one of the last stretches of the album—and giving her busywork was just that.

She wasn’t supposed to be at the office that day in May, but Jeff made her come along before they would continue their constant work at the drawing table, in the booth. It was the day he decided to cut his hair—and there she was, sitting quietly on the edge of the room, trying not to be seen, caught up in the swirl of conversations she didn’t quite belong to yet. There was something about her, something he couldn’t put his finger on. The way she observed everything, but didn’t feel the need to make herself known. A quiet confidence, maybe, or just a complete lack of pretense.

When she offered to help with the cut, everyone laughed, but he said yes. He didn’t know why, maybe because she didn’t treat it like this big, defining moment. The whole world was making such a fuss about his hair, like that was all he was, all he’d ever be. But YN? She just smiled, grabbed the scissors, and got to work. No ceremony, no theatrics—just a few careful snips, and suddenly he was lighter, like he could breathe again.

Afterward, they’d joked about how she should switch careers. But she’d only smiled that same quiet smile and said she was more interested in being on the other side of music. She was learning everything she could. At first, she was just there, hovering at the edge of things. But before long, she was everywhere. Quietly slipping into conversations, offering up ideas that stuck with him long after she’d left the room.

She wasn’t like the people he usually worked with. She wasn’t starry-eyed, wasn’t afraid of him or the idea of him. YN spoke to the brunette like he was just a guy making music, figuring things out. And maybe that’s what drew him in, slowly at first, then all at once. She didn’t see Harry Styles, the soloist. She saw Harry—the restless, uncertain man who wasn’t sure if he was running from his past or trying to carve out a future. He was human, an equal, not an enigma.

He caught himself thinking about her more than he should, replaying their conversations in his head when he was alone in his flat, the silence pressing in around him. She had this way of getting under his skin without even trying, making him wonder if he’d been doing everything wrong up until now. Or maybe, just maybe, she was the first person to make him feel like he didn’t need to have all the answers.

There was something magnetic about her, a pull he couldn’t quite shake. He’d see her in the studio, headphones on, scribbling notes on a track they’d been working on, her brow furrowed in concentration. She cared about the music, really cared, and he respected that more than he could say. In the rare moments she’d look up and catch him watching, she’d smile—soft and unassuming, as if she wasn’t at the center of this storm he was slowly getting lost in.

He’d thought about it, late at night when the studio was empty, and all he had were his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if it was the music that kept him coming back, or if it was something else entirely.

But the truth was, ever since she walked into his life, the world didn’t feel as heavy. It didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

YN had a quiet way of carrying herself, something light and untouchable, like she’d mastered the art of being present without ever fully giving herself away. It was part of what made her so magnetic, Harry thought, but it also kept her at arm’s length—just out of reach. The more time he spent with her, the more he sensed there were pieces of her story she wasn’t ready to share, things she held onto with a grip so tight, it almost hurt to watch.

Her father had been older when she was born, older than Jeff was, at least—a man who had already been through his share of mistakes and regrets by the time he met Jeffery in college. YN’s dad had been trying to start over, to build something solid for himself after years of wandering. They clicked right away—two guys who didn’t have much in common on the surface, but who understood each other in the ways that mattered. Jeff was young, still wide-eyed and ambitious, while YN’s father had lived a little longer, seen more of the mess the world had to offer. They bonded over that, and when YN was born, Jeff had been right there, practically family.

YN’s mother had left when she was just a baby. No warning, no messy custody battle, just gone. Her dad was the moon, always there—faintly during the day when he worked, but always present by night. Her mother was a solar eclipse, popping up in certain areas every now and then, but never staying. Maybe she’d call and wish her a belated happy birthday, or send a card for Christmas that year. She was always fleeting. And YN thought herself the stars, always there, always ever connected to the two despite time and space.

So, her father had raised her on his own, doing his best with what little he had. Jeff had been named godfather not long after her birth, and though he didn’t say much about it, YN knew he’d always carried a quiet kind of guilt. Like maybe if he’d been around more, her life might’ve been different. She never blamed him, of course—she adored Jeff, looked at him like he was some kind of anchor in her life, a second father figure, someone she could always count on. But there was no denying that a part of her had been shaped by absence, by the cold reality of her mother’s abandonment.

She didn’t talk about her mother much. When they’d first started getting to know each other, Harry had asked her once—offhandedly, without thinking—and the way her expression shifted, the way her walls shot up so quickly, he knew not to push. He’d seen it before, in himself, the instinct to hide away when the past felt too close.

Harry didn’t know much about her. They hadn’t talked about personal things, not really. Her past wasn’t something she talked about, not with anyone, and especially not with people like Harry—people who had the world’s attention, people who might think she was just another girl with a tragic backstory. But he knew she was Jeff’s goddaughter, that she was interning at the studio, trying to figure out if music was the career she wanted. He knew her favorite artist and color, knew her favorite subject in school and her best friend’s name—Marisol. He knew she preferred sunsets over sunrises, mountains and forests over beaches. But it felt superficial, barely scraping the surface. He wanted to know more. She seemed talented, driven, but there was something else—something in the way she held herself back.

There were moments when he’d catch her smile, but it was always soft, fleeting. Like she was offering a glimpse of something deeper but never letting him get too close. It intrigued him, the way she could be so kind yet so guarded, as if she’d learned not to give too much away. It was a look he recognized, one he saw in himself sometimes, when the weight of expectations and the uncertainty of his solo career pressed too heavily on his shoulders. But with YN, it felt different. It felt like something that had been there long before she ever stepped into the studio.

Moving to New York had been her way of starting over. She’d wanted to escape the weight of her past, to carve out a life that was her own. Jeff had given her that opportunity, and even though she hadn’t been sure it was what she wanted at first, she found herself falling into the rhythm of it. The work was hard sometimes, but it felt good, like maybe she was finally building something of her own. But even here, in this new city with new faces, YN still felt that familiar pull—the instinct to keep her distance, to protect herself from getting too attached.

He wasn’t sure she’d let him in, anyway. YN was like that—careful, cautious. Maybe she always would be.

In June, a little over two months since YN started working in the studio, she and Harry had formed an easy, steadying friendship. YN wasn’t like most people in his world. She understood his music in a way that felt rare—intimately, deeply, as if she could feel the weight of each word before he even sang it. It touched him more than he could admit.

But as much as he was drawn to her, Harry could sense the distance she kept between them. It wasn’t obvious, not in a way anyone else would notice, but there was a part of YN that stayed hidden. She had a warmth to her—she was kind, smart, and always knew exactly what to say when he asked for her help. But when it came to the deeper parts of herself, the parts Harry desperately wanted to know, she stayed locked away. He saw it in the way she smiled when something hit too close to home, or the way she never let conversations stray too far from the task at hand. It was as though she’d built an invisible wall around herself, and no one—not even him—was allowed through.

But he knew better than to push. For now, their connection revolved around the music.

Sometime in early June, they were hunched over in their usual studio chairs, working on the final track of his debut album. The song had taken weeks to perfect, but they were close now—closer than they had been. From the Dining Table was raw, achingly personal and YN, somehow, had helped him shape it into something even more honest than it had started.

“What if you lean into the third verse more?” She suggested, her pen tapping the page thoughtfully. "The emotion's there, but it's like you're not letting yourself feel it fully. Especially in that second verse–maybe one day you’ll me, and tell me that you’re sorry, too. You're pulling back right when you should lean into it."

Harry stopped playing with the strings on his guitar and looked up at her, brow furrowed. "What do y’mean?"

She hummed, biting her lip as she considered the words, her fingers brushing the edge of the paper. “Maybe drop the keys lower in the last chorus..” She trailed off, lost in her own thought process. She shifted in her chair, leaning forward slightly as she studied the lyrics. "It's heavy, but it could be even more vulnerable. You're singing about something really personal here, about the kind of loneliness that feels like it's eating you alive. But in the melody, it feels..safe. I think you need to make the vocals feel a bit more broken, like you're barely holding it together. Let the silence in the song do some of the work. Think about pulling back on the production, too–keep it more stripped down.” She laughed lightly, a bit sheepish. “If that makes sense.”

Harry nodded slowly, the words hanging in the air between them. She got it. She always got it. The lyrics had been twisting inside him for weeks, and it was YN’s careful guidance that had finally helped him pull them into something real, something tangible. He picked up his guitar, adjusting the chords she mentioned, and played the verse again. The notes hung heavier in the air this time, more space, more quiet.

“There.” YN murmured. “That’s what it needed—the space between the words, the silence. That's where the emotion is."

For the next few hours, they went back and forth, fine-tuning the melody and adjusting the lyrics. YN suggested cutting down the instrumentation, making it feel more intimate, like a conversation Harry was having with himself. And as the song started to take shape, Harry felt a weight lifting. It’s what he wanted for the song, it deserved this rawness, this vulnerability.

Over the next two weeks, they worked tirelessly on the track, tweaking the lyrics, adjusting the production. YN had suggested subtle changes in the arrangement—adding faint background harmonies, letting the piano take the lead in certain sections. It was her idea to introduce a low hum in the final chorus, something atmospheric that made the song feel like it was dissolving into the empty spaces of the room. Harry trusted her instincts completely by now, her intelligence and understanding of the music so sharp that he barely needed to question her advice. She had a way of knowing what the song needed, even when he couldn’t see it himself.

By the time they reached the last day of recording that track, the song had transformed into something that felt like a piece of his soul, laid bare for the world to hear. It was time to play it for the team, to record the final version that would make it onto the album. She didn’t hear it in its entirety yet, only the parts Harry would reveal that he wanted insight on.

The band was ready, gathered behind their instruments, and the rest of the team sat in the control room, waiting to hear what he had spent weeks perfecting. The studio felt heavier than usual, the air thick with anticipation. Harry glanced over at YN, who was standing by the glass that separated the studio from the control room, her arms crossed loosely in front of her. She was watching him, as she always did, but there was something different in her eyes tonight. He couldn’t place it—something softer, more vulnerable than usual.

Harry picked up his guitar, gave the band a nod, and stepped up to the mic. The first notes echoed through the room, soft and haunting. His voice followed, low and steady, each lyric pouring out an isolation he had written into the song, each verse dripping in melancholy. The room around him seemed to blur, and for a moment, it was just him, the music, and the truth of what he was singing.

“Maybe one day you’ll call me, and tell me that you’re sorry, too.”

His voice cracked slightly on the word sorry, just as it had in practice. But this time, it felt different. More real. More final.

As the song continued, Harry’s gaze flickered over to YN. She was still standing by the glass, but something had changed. Her arms had fallen to her sides, and her eyes were fixed on him, wide and shimmering with unshed tears. It was subtle at first—a quick blink, a shift of her expression—but then he saw it. A tear slipped down her cheek, and YN quickly brushed it away, trying to hide the emotion that was overtaking her.

But she couldn’t. Not this time.

By the time the song ended, the room was filled with the soft, fading echoes of the final notes. Harry stood still, the guitar resting against his chest, his breath uneven. He watched as YN slowly stepped forward, closer to the glass, her eyes still glistening. She rested her hand gently on the pane, the only thing separating them, and gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.

It was all he needed. That nod, that single moment of unspoken approval, meant more than words ever could. She understood—she always had. But seeing her moved by the song, seeing the tears she tried so hard to hide, told Harry more about her than she’d ever let on.

For the first time, Harry felt like he had reached her core, even if just for a second. And as the team buzzed with quiet admiration for the track, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from YN. Because in that small, fragile moment, she had let her walls down. Just enough.

And Harry realized, standing there with the music still humming through his veins, that maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt something more between them. Maybe YN wasn’t as unreachable as he had once thought.

July had seemed to’ve breeze past, almost gone in a daze. It was Friday, and there would only be two more Fridays left till they would have to flip the colander pages to August. The heat of the day still mingled in the air as the studio settled into its usual weekend quiet. The crew had all left for the night, tired but satisfied after wrapping another long day of recording. The album was nearing completion, and the tension that had built up over the past few months was finally starting to lift. Harry could feel it—the sense of relief, of something monumental coming to an end—but there was still so much hanging in the air between him and YN, at least that’s what he felt.

They were alone in the lounge now, the soft glow of the low lights casting faded shadows on the walls. YN sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she sipped from a recently topped-off flute of champagne, her eyes tired but content. They had opened the bottle to celebrate finishing another track, Two Ghosts. YN wasn’t there when the production first started for this song, only there for the finalized remastering of it that finished today—and she had insisted he must celebrate, the fizzy sweetness a small reward for everything he’s been pouring into the album.

"Cheers!” Harry had laughed, clinking his glass against hers with a lopsided grin. "One more down."

He didn’t quite remember what glass he was on, but he could feel the familiar buzz of being tipsy, like he could float. Besides the lounge, the rest of the building was dark, only light seeping through was from the city outside. Harry leaned back against the arm of the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, the remnants of his drink swirling lazily in his glass. He felt relaxed—more relaxed than he had in weeks. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the fact that they were finally nearing the end of the album. But it wasn't just that. It was YN, too.

And god, she looked gorgeous.

She dressed down for the day, knowing it was Friday and she could fall into bed as soon as she got home. A hoodie hung loosely over her frame, the pair of lounge shorts coming a little bit above her mid thigh. The alcohol seemed to give her eyes more of a sparkle, her skin flush—Harry wondered if alcohol could make him look as pretty as she, but he ended up on the conclusion of probably not.

“I know I said this already.” She giggled, taking a sip of the bubbly. Her smile was hazy, eyes clouded over. “But the song sounds great.” She enthusiastically sent him a thumbs up, the bottom of his feet against the bend of her knees as his legs remained sprawled out over the couch. The curly haired boy already asked if he should move to give her more space, but her dismissal was a shouted, pleading whine of no, stay! “You should be famous or something.” She sent him a wink, and he couldn’t stifle the laughter that escaped him from how slow and exaggerated she’d done it.

The lightness in the air was contagious, and they both seemed to be floating, untethered and free from the usual tension. He rested his temple against the back cushion of the sofa, his lazy grin seemingly impossible to wipe off. “Dunno, sounds like a lot of work. Maybe I’ll jus’ start a bakery instead.” He shrugged, taking a swig of what was left in the flute after parting ways between his head and the cushion beside him. “Styles’ Pies, what d’you think?”

YN snorted, nearly spilling her champagne as she pictured it. “You? In a bakery? I don’t even think you can make toast without burning it.”

Harry’s eyes widened in mock offense. “Hey, m’great in the kitchen. You’ve just never seen me in action.”

“Oh really?” YN arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. She set her glass down on the table, waving her hand as if conducting an imaginary cooking show. “Alright, Chef Styles, what’s your signature dish? Burnt toast with a side of undercooked eggs?”

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I? That was one time!”

“Ah-ha!” She teased, biting her lip to hold back another laugh. “You know, they might not even let you into the bakery with that track record. Health code violations, and all.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry huffed, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll have you know, I’m actually a master at making..” He paused, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Pancakes.”

YN burst into laughter again, this time nearly doubling over, gently clasping her fingers around his ankles for support. “Pancakes? Oh god, I bet you’d flip them right onto the floor.”

“Oi, that’s not true!” Harry was laughing now too, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the easy back-and-forth. YN had placed her hands back into her lap after grabbing her glass again, legs still tucked underneath her. “I’ve got skills. Just wait. I’ll cook f’you one day, and you’ll be begging for more. You’ll never want to leave m’kitchen.”

She wiped away a tear from her drunken laughter, a banter that probably would not be as entertaining if she was sober. “We’ll see about that. I’ll be your taste tester—but don’t be mad if I spit it out.”

“Oh, y’ruthless tonight, huh?” He nudged her playfully with his foot, legs still draped along the sofa. “Well, if pancakes don’t win y’over, I’ll just serenade you with some of m’songs. You won’t stand a chance.”

YN’s laughter turned into a snort as she brought the flute to her lips, taking another sip before grinning at him. “Woo me with your guitar? Play a little ditty about burnt toast?”

Harry leaned forward, dramatically mimicking strumming an invisible guitar, his expression serious as he sang, “Maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two..”

YN feigned a cringe, holding her ands out in front of her as if to block the very sight of him. The tune was cute, but she would never admit that. Harry could barely keep it together as he leaned back against the sofa’s arm, rolling his eyes as she finally lowered her hands. “And I’ll have you know I worked n’a bakery in Holmes Chapel, favorite employee, too.”

“My god, aren’t you a prodigy?” She smiled, tilting her head to the side as if pretending to be bashful. “Singer, songwriter, baker of the month.”

“Y’damn right.”He tipped an imaginary hat on his head, “I contain multitudes.” He winked, a better one that YN had sent earlier, his grin wide and a little bit tipsy.

They sat in the comfortable silence that followed, both of them still chuckling under their breath, the champagne buzzing through their veins like a soft lullaby. Harry glanced over at YN, her face flushed from laughter, her body relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen before. She looked free. Happy. And it did something to his chest, a tug he couldn’t ignore.

“Hey.” he said softly, stretching his ankle ever so slightly to gently nudge her knee with his foot. “Y’having fun?”

She nodded, her smile softening as she glanced at him. “Yeah. I am.” Her voice was quieter now, the playful energy of a moment ago still lingering, but with something else creeping in. Something softer, more intimate.

Harry smiled back, his heart doing that stupid fluttering thing it always did around her. “Good, m’glad.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again, her words coming out slower, as if she was trying to steady herself. “You’re..not what I expected.”

Harry tilted his head, a curious smirk tugging at his lips. “What’d y’expect?”

She hummed, “Don’t know.” She said with a shrug, her fingers tracing absentminded circles on the cushion. “Someone a little more, I don’t know–untouchable? Like, y’know, the harry styles,’ the big deal. But you’re just harry styles, my friend.”

He laughed softly, playing with the hem of his bright pink shorts. “Jus’ me, huh? Guess that’s not s’bad.”

“It’s not.” She smiled, her eyes locking with his, and for a moment, something passed between them. Something heavier, like an acknowledgment of everything unspoken.

Harry shifted, suddenly aware of how close they had gotten during her revelation. His hand, which had been resting on her knee, slid a little higher, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her thigh. The playful banter was still there, but it was quieter now, replaced by a tension that neither of them could deny any longer.

“Y’know.”she said, breaking the silence with a small smile. “I still don’t believe you can make pancakes.”

His eyes darkened with a mixture of amusement and something deeper as he leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe I should make you breakfast tomorrow morning then.”

YN’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening at his words, and she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Harry’s lips were on hers. She instantly melted into it, as if an instinct. However, after a beat, the palm of her hand pressed against his shoulder. Their lips slowly separated, strings of saliva snapping at the middle from their mutual departure. Her breath rose and fell rapidly, a small smile on her lips. “How are you gonna make pancakes at the st–.”

Harry had cut her off with a groan, but it was humorous, mixed with his giggles. “Y’stopped that t’get technical?”

YN shrugged before pulling him back into the kiss, unwavering, still. It was tentative for a moment, as if he was waiting for her to push away again, but she didn’t. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, lips in sync as she deepened their kiss.

The taste of the fruity champagne lingered between them, intoxicating and heady. It grew hungrier, more desperate as if months of unresolved tension had finally snapped. YN’s tongue found itself swiping a soft stripe against his bottom lip, a heavy sigh emerging from him as his fingers brushed along the hem of her hoodie, slipping his hands underneath, his palm resting on the warm curve of her waist.

“H–” She whispered against his lips, her voice breathy, almost a plea. But it wasn’t a plea to stop—it was a plea for more.

His name on her lips drive him mad. With a low grown, he shifted, pulling her into his lap in one fluid motion. Her legs straddled him, holding herself as close to him as she could, their kisses turning feverish. His large hands pulled her even closer—not a centimeter of space to be left. He parted his lips, a broken breath tumbling from his mouth as she started to roll her hips against his growing cock stuck underneath the hot pink shorts.

His ring clad fingers slip father up her hoodie, the coolness of the medal a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off the both of them. Harry tugged on the fabric, pulling it over her head in a rush, revealing the thin bralette underneath. “Fuck–” He mumbled, breath caressing her skin as his lips skimmed the bone of her jawline, placing a slow, tentative kiss right at her pulse point. “So beautiful.” He was drunk in the moment that was her—figuratively and literally—his voice distant and light, like a voice breaking through a daydream.

She rolled her hips harder against him as his hands slipped under the hem of her shorts, lips sloppily trailing her chest, her nose buried in his curls. A soft moan is drawn from her as Harry’s hands grip her ass, aiding her movements of dry humping his cock. His tongue grazed the fleshy part of her breast that threatened to spill out of her bra, a shuddering exhale brushing from her lips, right into his disheveled locks.

She hastily cups his chin, pulling him from her chest to messily kiss him again. She wanted to taste the faint peach on his tongue from the champagne, to feel the stubble above his lip tickling against her. They both moaned into each other’s mouths, her fingers running down his shirt, tugging at the hem. He smiles, parting from her to pull his shirt off. It was rushed, his chin getting caught in the collar which made laughter sit between them comfortably. YN gently helps him pull the shirt from his head. It was discarded somewhere on the floor, its whereabouts not a priority.

Their cheeks are flush, lips plump and vibrant as they fall into each other’s eyes—their giggles fading out and their heavy breaths replacing it. “I want you.” She whispered, her gaze trailing from his eyes, to his lips, along the markings of his torso, then back up again.

He nodded, pressing his forehead against hers with a shaky breath. “Yeah?”

She hummed, though it sounded similar to a purr—a divinely feminine melody that made him twitch under the fabric that held him from her. “Yeah.”

He gives her a quick peck before tapping her thigh and guiding her off his lap. He looks at her as his thumb slips under the waistband of both his shorts and boxers, his glance expectant of some sort of approval or denial.

Her hands reach back behind her, unclasping the bra and letting the straps fall from her shoulders; to which he took that as his go ahead. Harry bucks his hips from the couch, tugging the clothing down his legs and letting it fall onto the floor. His cock slapped against his abdomen from the sheer force of how quickly he freed himself. It was bigger than she had expected, the head a pretty pink that glistened with precum.

He didn’t give her a chance to react for herself as he pulled along her bare waist, ushering YN back onto him. He planted kisses along her breast, the hem of her shorts sitting right against his chest, his large hands holding her inches above the cock she so desperate to fill herself up with.

His tongue encircled the bud of her nipple, one hand still gripping her ass to keep her pressed against his chest, above his length—while the other fell a tad lower, his index and middle finger slipping underneath the leg of her shorts and panties, brushing along her wet folds.

She could feel his lips spread into a smirk before he began to suck on her nipple. She buried her face into his curls, grasping onto the roots as his digits sat at the entrance of her core, heat radiating from her cunt as her arousal soaked the tips of his fingers. She whimpers, wanting to grind down on them and fill her up until his knuckles sat harshly against her folds, but he held her in place—the grip on the soft part of her ass feeling rougher. He looks up at her through his eyelashes, though her face is hidden in his hair, he still revels in it. “Y’that desperate for it, hm?”

She nods against the top of his head, eyes squeezing shut. “Yes, Harry.” She whined, fingers tightly laced between his locks. “Fuck–please, I need it.”

His mouth finds its way back to her tits as he eases his thick fingers into her cunt, tauntingly slow. Her walls fluttered around him, a soft moan escaping her as he pumped his fingers in and out, the sound of her wetness was hot, filthy—the way it bounced around the room. It only made him harder knowing that no one else will know what happened here besides them.

He curls his digits into a spot that makes her hips buck harder against his chest, a yelp emitting from the top of her throat, which he takes as a moment to smack the fleshy part of her ass, it wasn’t very hard, as if he was testing the waters to try to understand what she needed. Judging from the noises she made, and how her bum seemed to push a slight wiggle into the palm of his hand, he figured she liked it.

He pumps his fingers faster, his knuckles almost pounding against her core as he sneaks the opportunity to spank her again. A string of profanities and whiny pleas fell from her, her hands falling to a grip on his shoulders as he coaxed her to the brink of coming on just his fingers alone.

His lips are sloppy against her chest, more focused on how his digits buried themselves into her pussy. Her words aren’t coherent, a ringing faint in her ears as she tightens around him, her hips erupting into a shudder as she rides out her orgasm. He lightens the grip from her bum, allowing her to roll her hips with his fingers still deep inside her, basking in how she tried to milk herself of every drop she could.

Once her movements still, he slowly pulls out of her, the two making eye contact as he brings the two fingers to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them prettily, licking her arousal from the source.

Her breaths were heavy, eyes darkened as she watched the dirtiest thing play out in front of her. His eyes flutter to a close, a smirk speaking across his lips as if it was the most heavenly thing he’s tasted; she already feels the knot in her tummy tightening again.

She pulls him into a kiss, meeting each other harshly as she tastes herself from his lips. His hands brush along the small of her back, then to her hips, slipping the shorts and panties down her legs and off her ankles with an awkward, momentary shift in position to do so. She lowers herself as much as he’d allow, his lips stilling as he feels her heat against the head of his cock. He pulls away slightly, forehead against hers with a small flicker of disappointment on his features. “I don’t have a condom.” His voice low and raspy, thick with lust as he held her against him once again, unable to fill herself as she desired.

Her chest rose and fell heavily, eyes meeting his. “M’on the pill.” She whispered, voice breathy and light from her previous orgasm.

His eyebrows furrowed, gaze unwavering in hers. This is something he normally would never do, fucking someone unprotected. But the way his cock ached for her was damn near painful, and he trusted her. A friend he’d come to cherish, although in the back of his mind, he wanted her more than a friend. He darted his eyes between hers and the way her tummy fluttered with heavy breath. His glance was expectant again, silently needing approval to even think of continuing.

She wiggled her hips in his grasp once more, her a whiny plea a soft mutter—and it’s all he needed to hear. She sank onto his length, a slow strain befell them from how he had to ease his cock into her pussy, stretching her out with every upward motion of his hips.

The feeling of him filling her was addicting to both, pleasured sighs and moans emitting from each of them as she adjusted around his length, sinking down the shaft completely. Only a beat had past before she started to roll her hips into him, adjusting to the feeling of him. One hand sat sprawled against her back, will the other remained on her ass. Harry’s head leaned along the edge of the couch, watching through half-lidded eyes at the way her tits moved as she began to bounce on his length, having him draw sharp inhale at the feeling. “Jus’ like that.” He groaned, the hand on her back and bum guiding her movements. “Good girl–y’feel so good, jus–” He cuts off his own sentence with a moan, his head falling forward now, just a bit. His forehead grazed along her shoulder—barely—every time she’d bob up the length of his cock. “Like that, bunny–fuck.” His voice was breathy, listening to the pretty moans that escaped her and the way her cunt sounded riding his cock.

His hand slid down her back, both gripping her ass a bit roughy as he guided her movements with more force. Her lips fell agape, a whimper falling out now and then as Harry held her weight as if it was nothing, moving her up and down his thick cock with an ease that made her cry out his name.

He pushed and pulled her onto him greedily, her head falling onto his shoulder as he rested his chin on hers, watching as he pounded her onto the base of his length. The sharp sounds of skin against skin mixed in with their moans, a cacophony of their pleasure filling the lounge.

He loosened his grip from her bum, smacking her ass as his other hand gathered her hair into his fist, jerking her head back to force a semblance of eye contact. The palm of his other hand rested over her thigh, continuing to guide her movements though the momentum from her own hands against his shoulders was enough.

He knew he was close, and the way her noises got louder, how her cunt tightened around him—Harry knew she was close, too. The tiny fraction of him that held an ounce of logic through his drunken pleasure told him to pull out, but it fell to the back of his mind, silenced with the sound of his own moans and the way his length twitched, the knot in his belly rounding tightly. “Look at me.” He forced through a grunt, his toes curling against the carpet and his jaw tightened as he tried to stall his release.

The grip on his shoulders was lethal, though the only thing he could feel was her pussy fluttering around him. Her hair was still balled tightly in his fist, craning her head into a position where their foreheads were only a few inches away—the only thing that would keep her from looking if she closed her eyes. She wouldn’t though.

His hand pushed harder against her thigh, both of their skin flushed a pink from the force of the contact of the way her ass and thighs slapped along his pelvis. “Say my name–” His groan was guttural, as if he was teetering on the edge of losing his composure. With his grip still in her hair, he pressed her forehead into his, both slick with a gleam of sweat. “When you come—say it.” He grunted, eyes meeting hers once again. “Or I won’t let you.”

She felt her legs to tremble, her lips parting as the cries and whimpers of his name escaped her like a mantra. His chest rose and fell unevenly, pressing her forehead into hers further as they met their release simultaneously. Thick ropes of come fill her cunt to the point where it drips out around him. Their breaths are heavy and quick, his hands soft against the skin of her legs as they tremble, pressing his lips atop her shoulders as she sinks into his chest.

The next morning arrived in a hazy blur. The sky was gray as it prepared itself for a summer thunderstorm. The pitter-patter of rain hitting the window caused him to stir first, a wince from feeling the stiffness in his neck before anything else. His back was pressed awkwardly into the couch, his arm draped around something soft and warm. He blinked his eyes open, the dull light from the stormy sky offering not very much of anything as it bled through the blinds. The familiar scent of the studio mixed with something more intoxicating—YN.

He nudged his chin down to glance at the girl curled up on his chest, his shirt from last night adorning her frame as soft snores fell from her mouth. Their legs were tangled together underneath a thin throw blanket with Christmas patterns he didn’t remember grabbing before passing out. The events of last night came in a rushed haze from the smell of the champagne on his own breath. He shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, but the movement pulled YN from her slumber. She let out a small groan before nuzzling deeper into his bare chest, not wanting to let go of the warmth.

The smell of Harry’s cologne caused her eyes to peel open, her brow furrowing in confusion as she took in her surroundings.

“Morning.” Harry had rasped out, voice still thick with sleep.

She blinked, and then placed her palms against his chest to push herself up. She glanced around the studio with the turn of her head, then back at Harry with an unreadable expression. Her hair was disheveled, Harry’s discarded shirt hung loosely around her—she could feel the thickness of his come seeping out of her, pooling in her underwear and forming a dampened spot. “Oh my god.”

He winced involuntarily, and this time it wasn’t from the ache in his neck. “Um.” He paused, voice cautious. “Yeah.”

YN bit her lip, sitting up fully as she slipped into a spot between his thighs. The cushion was soft against her bum as she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Yeah.” She echoed his words, unsure of what to say.

Harry had scoot up slightly, the small of his back against the arm of the sofa. He rubbed his neck, sighing from the crick he developed for sleeping in such an awkward position. “Are you okay?”

She looked at him, her eyes still a bit dazed from the remnants of sleep and the weight of their shared moment. YN offered him a small smile, “Mhm.” She hummed, but an uncertainty glimmered along the edge of her pupil, unsure of what came next. “Not exactly used to waking up like this, I guess–but I’m okay.”

He nodded slowly, though a frown threatened to spread across his lips. He reached out hesitantly, palm resting on her knee as he sighed. “You regret it?” He asked, though it sounded rhetorical.

Her face seemed to soften at his words, sincerity and a hint of hurt evident in his expression. A furrow formed in her forehead as she shook her head, placing a hand on top of the one he sat on her knee. “No, H. ‘Course not.” She paused, shifting in her seat before forcing herself to stand, his hand slipping from her knee back into his own lap. It felt cold, and he knew she was pulling away. She very quickly stripped Harry’s shirt off—to which he averted his eyes to the ground—shrugging back on her own hoodie and shorts.

“YN.” Harry mumbled, his voice shaking as he pulled his shirt back over his head. She seemed distracted, slipping her shoes back on and putting her phone into the hoodie pocket before she trailed back toward Harry, gazing down at where he sat on the couch. He had looked at her the way he always seemed to look at her, eyes full of things that would stay unsaid. “What does this mean?”

She kneeled before him almost immediately, combing her fingers through his hair in a moment of comfort. “Doesn’t have to mean anything.” Her voice was soft, kind, as if that was the thing he wanted to hear. “We’re friends, this won’t make it weird, okay?”

He could feel his heart sink into his stomach as he nodded with slight trepidation, wishing she would just open herself up and allow him to hold her, to show her that he wouldn’t let go. “I don’t regret it, never ever.” She murmured, ducking her head down a bit to meet his gaze that seemed to lower at her words. “I swear it.”

He forced a smile, her hand pulling away from his curls—the curls she previously moaned into, the hair that she tangled her fingers in from an orgasm that crashed over her like a wave. He swallowed dryly as she back stood up, still not looking away from him. A defeat settled over him, an impatient longing as he realized if he was ever going to have a chance with the woman before him, he’d have to wait. He didn’t know what pain she held, the things she guarded so strongly, but he knew she would have to admit to herself first that she was worthy of something good. Harry parted his lips, taking a deep breath to keep his voice steady. “Stay friends?” He asked expectantly, holding out a pinky to her.

She smiled, a sad one, however. She wanted to wrap him into her arms and apologize for making the choice to walk away, but she felt it was best. YN believed she wasn’t what he deserved, and it would be in his best interest to pretend like everything went back to normal. She lowered her hand, intertwining her pinky with his. “Stay friends.”

On August fourth, The studio was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the late afternoon sun filtering through the one window in the control room. Everyone, besides YN and Harry, went out for their lunch break. Harry had asked if she would help her tweak the soon-to-be third track on the album, Carolina.

Since waking up from the sex they had in the lounge, they hadn’t brought it up—though it didn’t disappear. There would be moments where it loomed over them, heavy and unrelenting. It took everything in them not to bridge that specific gap, took everything in Harry not to bend her over the soundboard to feel her again, took everything in him not to fall to his knees before her, hugging her legs while he cried about how he was helplessly falling for her.

It was the hottest day of the year, and though the air conditioner was humming in a low buzz, the air was thick with warmth. The kind of still, lingering heat that made everything feel slow and hazy, like time itself had paused for a moment. Harry picked up his guitar, fingers brushing over the strings, testing the familiar weight of it in his hands. The sound of the first strum seemed to melt into the air, easy, relaxed, as if the room itself was humming along to the rhythm.

She kneeled down, across from the spot Harry sat on the floor, guitar in lap. She pressed on certain strings on specific parts of the neck, eyes flickering between Harry and the instrument expectantly. They both knew the notes and the chords, the tone it could give. “Try those notes.”She murmured, moving Harry’s Hand from where it sat on the neck to where she wanted his fingers to be. Her touch was delicate, and if Harry didn’t reground himself he would’ve forgot what was happening all together. “Lean into the groove more?” Her words were laced with a light chuckle as she stood up, looking back down at the brunette on the floor. “Loosen up a bassline, could add some layered harmonies, something subtle, but it'll give the track more depth."

Harry's eyes lit up, a spark of excitement that always seemed to come alive when YN shared her thoughts. She had this uncanny way of making the most complex ideas sound simple. He nodded eagerly, strumming a few playful chords, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty studio. "Yeah, that's it.” He whispered to himself excitedly, already hearing the song in his head. He began playing, the cords, melody bright and carefree, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings.

The atmosphere shifted almost instantly—no longer weighed down by deadlines or pressure, but filled with something light. Harry stood up without a word, the grin never leaving his face as he strummed the revisioned tune, the guitar hanging casually from his shoulder as he waltzed across the room, his voice bouncing with the light-hearted lyrics. The brunette’s footsteps were lazy, carefree, his long legs carrying him in wide, exaggerated circles as he moved with the rhythm, his laughter spilling out between the lyrics. It was easy—so easy—that the line between the song and the moment blurred.

“She’s a good girl.”

his voice bright and full of mischief as he twirled past her, catching her eye. He wiggled his eyebrows, a playful challenge, daring her to join in.

YN couldn’t help herself, he was infectious . She laughed, the sound so genuine and pure it filled the air. She pushed away from the soundboard, and before she could even think of hesitation, she was dancing and hopping around in time to the music, letting herself get lost along with him.

“Such a good girl”

She really was, like when he buried himself between her legs a few weeks ago.

The hem of her dainty sundress swept around her shins in a slow, lazy twirl. Her laughter mixed with the sound of the guitar, light and unguarded, like the weight of the world had lifted, just for this one moment.

Harry’s voice followed her as he floated around, his fingers never missing a beat. The melody was effortless, the chords bright and warm like the fading summer light that filled the room. His gaze flicked toward her every few seconds, catching the way she moved, her arms outstretched as she spun in gentle circles, her hair catching the golden light in soft waves.

The whole scene felt like something out of time, like they had stepped into an old, grainy film reel—faded sun, carefree laughter, and the kind of simplicity that made everything else fade into the background. There was no rush, no pressure, just the music and the way they moved through it together.

Harry kept playing, his voice growing louder, more animated, as he circled back to her, his laughter echoing in the small space. He swayed, leaning into the guitar as he strummed, almost tripping over a cable but catching himself at the last second with a dramatic flourish. YN continued her movements, her arms floating through the air, soft and unhurried, like she was dancing with the music itself.

And then, in one smooth motion, Harry waltzed closer, standing just a few feet away from her as he played the final chorus. His smile was wide, eyes bright with the joy of the moment, and YN met his gaze with the same carefree energy, spinning one last time before she collapsed against the stool, breathless from her giggles.

The last chord hung in the air for a moment longer, lingering like the final rays of sunlight spilling through the window. The room was still humming with the energy they’d created, the echoes of their laughter and the bright notes of the guitar lingering in the walls. Harry let the guitar slide gently to his side, leaning against the stool as he caught his breath, his chest rising and falling in time with YN’s, her face flushed and glowing. He was grinning, the kind of grin that reached his eyes and made his dimples crater.

For a second, everything felt perfect, untouched by the noise of the outside world. It was just the two of them, the fading summer light, and the echo of a song that hadn’t yet been recorded but already felt like it was carved into their shared memory.

All he wanted to do was kiss her again.

She was perched on her chair now, her legs crossed, still smiling from their little impromptu dance. She glowed with the warmth of the sun filtering in through the window. The carefree, playful energy between them began to settle, but the air didn’t lose its charge. Instead, something softer slipped into the space between them, a kind of comfortable quiet as they both let the last traces of laughter fade away.

Harry wiped a hand across his forehead, pushing back a few stray curls as he looked over at her, the easy grin still tugging at his lips. The guitar rested against his knee as he sat down, but he didn’t play, didn’t move. He was just watching her now, the way her fingers traced absentminded circles on the edge of the stool, the way her gaze was still bright with that unguarded laughter. It was rare to see her like this—unguarded, fully present—and Harry found himself caught in the moment, not wanting it to end.

Just as that night in July, when we pulled her into her chest to sleep for the night—when it felt like he could call her his as he wrapped his arms around her, basking in their afterglow.

YN let out a soft sigh, the last of her breathless laughter leaving her, and when she looked at him, her expression shifted. Something quieter, more serious. The playful glint in her eyes softened into something almost reverent, like she was seeing him—really seeing him.

“You know, Harry.” She smiled, her voice gentle but firm, like she was about to say something important. “This album–” There was a pause as she exhaled through her nose, but it was light from her enthused realization. “It’s going to go down as a classic. It’s real. You’re real. Your talent, the rawness of it—it’s something people won’t forget.”

The words landed between them like a weight, soft but undeniable. Harry felt his heart skip, his smile faltering just slightly as her words settled in. He’d heard compliments before—so many, often thrown around casually—but this… this was different. The sincerity in her voice, the way her eyes held his, unflinching, unwavering, as if she wasn’t just saying something kind, but something true.

For a moment, the room seemed to shift around him. It was like the air grew thicker, the light softer, the world quieter. He felt exposed, in a way he hadn’t expected, like her words had peeled back a layer he’d been hiding under, a layer he hadn’t even realized was there. The compliment wasn’t just about the music, wasn’t just about the work they’d been doing. It felt personal, like she saw him—not the version of him the world saw, not Harry, the soloist, but him, Harry. The guy trying to figure it all out, pouring every piece of himself into this album, hoping that it would matter.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight, and for a second, he wasn’t sure what to say.

He thought about telling her thank you.

He thought about remaining speechless.

No one had told him something like that in a long time—not like this, not with this kind of weight. He could feel his chest tightening, his pulse thrumming a little too fast, the gravity of her words sinking deeper than he thought they would.

He thought about her words.

He thought about her.

“YN, I—” He started to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, he wondered if maybe she understood him more than he’d ever realized. Maybe that was why her words felt so heavy, why they struck him in a way nothing else had. Because they came from her.

He thought about how much he wanted to say he was starting to fall in love with her.

But before he could say anything else, the door to the studio swung open with a loud creak, breaking the moment like a pebble dropped into still water. The team was back, their voices filling the room as they filed in, the soft hum of conversation and the shuffle of papers cutting through the silence that had wrapped around him and YN.

“Alright, alright, back to it.” Jeff chuckled, ever the dad friend, clapping his hands as he made his way toward the control board. The mood shifted, the studio returning to its usual buzz of activity, the easy rhythm of work settling back into place.

Harry blinked, the spell of the moment breaking as he straightened up, shaking off the sudden heaviness in his chest. YN gave him a small, knowing smile, her eyes still holding a trace of the warmth from before, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She’d already said what mattered.

She knew the look in Harry’s eye.

She had thought about how much she missed him.

She thought about how much that scared her.

With a soft sigh, Harry adjusted the guitar on his lap, nodding as the team gathered around, discussing admin details, technical tweaks, and publicity strategies for the album’s release. The room was buzzing again, the easy laughter and lightness of earlier replaced with the steady hum of work. But Harry’s mind was still lingering on what YN had said, the quiet sincerity of her words looping in the back of his mind.

As the evening stretched on, the work became more mechanical—emails, calls, planning—but Harry’s thoughts kept drifting back to her. He couldn’t shake the way she drifted around the room earlier, like a dandelion wisp dancing in the wind. How her laugh sounded so pretty he wanted to put it in a song. How real it had felt when she’d looked at him and told him what his music would become. It was a compliment, sure, but it was more than that. It was a belief. And for the first time in a long while, Harry felt like someone saw him exactly as he was, and believed in him all the same.

That day at the studio soon began to draw to a close, the golden light from earlier now softening into deep ambers and long shadows. The room, once buzzing with activity, had fallen into a more relaxed rhythm as the team packed up their things, saying their goodbyes with tired but satisfied smiles. The project was moving, inching closer to the finish line.

Harry leaned back, watching from the corner of the room as the last of the crew made their way to the door. The sounds of zippers closing and bags being slung over shoulders filled the space, each member of the team calling out their see-you-laters, their voices fading as they spilled out into the hallway. One by one, they disappeared, until the door swung shut with a final, quiet click, leaving just Harry and YN behind.

The silence settled in slowly, wrapping itself around the room like a warm, familiar blanket. It was the kind of silence that felt more like a presence than an absence, thick and heavy with something unspoken. Harry ran his fingers over the neck of his guitar one last time before placing it back on its stand, the metal strings catching the fading light. His movements were slow, almost deliberate, like he was trying to hold on to the quiet a little longer.

He glanced over his shoulder, noticing that YN was still at the small table near the edge of the room, shuffling her things about. She was moving slower than usual, her hands hovering over her notebook, lingering on the scattered papers like she wasn’t quite ready to leave. Harry chuckled softly, the sound breaking the stillness.

“Need help with all that?” he asked, his voice airy, teasing in a way that felt natural between them.

But YN didn’t respond right away. She kept her eyes down, focused on her things, but her movements were stiffer now, less fluid. There was something different in the way she stood there, something quiet but undeniably present—an undercurrent of tension Harry couldn’t quite place. He felt the air shift, that familiar warmth between them suddenly giving way to something more solemn, more guarded.

“YN?” Harry asked, his voice softer now, his smile fading as he stepped toward her. “Everything alright?”

She looked up then, her eyes catching his for the briefest moment before she quickly glanced away again, like she couldn’t hold the gaze for too long. Her expression was calm, but there was a tightness in her jaw, something held back, something she wasn’t sure how to say. She let out a soft sigh, the weight of whatever was on her mind finally beginning to show.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She started, her voice low and measured, like she was carefully choosing each word. “August thirty-first.” She bit the inside of her lip momentarily. “It’ll be my last day here. My internship—it’s ending.”

The words landed between them like a quiet echo, reverberating in the space left behind by the day’s fading energy. Harry felt the weight of them settle in his chest, heavier than he had expected. He knew the internship wouldn’t last forever—of course, he’d known that—but hearing it out loud, hearing it from her, made it feel real in a way he hadn’t prepared for.

For a moment, Harry didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her, trying to make sense of the sudden tightness in his throat. It felt like the air had been knocked out of him, but he didn’t quite understand why. She was still there, right in front of him, but the idea of her leaving, of this chapter ending, hit him harder than he thought it would.

“Your last day.” He repeated quietly, more to himself than to her, his brows knitting together slightly.

YN nodded, but she didn’t look at him. She busied herself with the papers in her hands, though it was clear she wasn’t really doing anything—just moving things around to avoid the heaviness of the conversation. The atmosphere had changed, charged with an unsaid emotion. It reminded Harry of the way people talk about those long, hot August nights, the kind where the sky is still bright at 9pm, but you can feel autumn creeping in around the edges, making the warmth feel both infinite and fleeting.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet breath as he leaned against the control board. He wasn’t sure what to say.

Part of him wondered if it was because of the sex. A part of him wanted to ask her to stay, to find some reason to keep her there, keep things as they were. But he knew he couldn’t. That wasn’t the way the world worked, no matter how much you wanted to freeze a moment in time.

“How come?” He finally asked, his voice quieter now, softer in a way that mirrored the dimming light of the room.

YN shrugged slightly, her shoulders barely moving. “I’ve known for a bit. It’s temporary, only a summer internship.”

Harry nodded, understanding, though the weight in his chest hadn’t eased. It was hard for him, realizing that after all the late nights, the music, the moments shared, things would change. And YN—who had always kept that quiet distance, who never let anyone too close—wasn’t just leaving the studio. She was leaving him, even if she didn’t mean it that way.

The room felt smaller now, the silence between them growing heavier with every passing second. Harry looked down at his hands, tracing the worn edges of the soundboard with his thumb, searching for something to say that wouldn’t feel like an end.

“I’ll miss you.” He admitted solemnly, the words simple, but honest. They hung in the air like a truth too big for him to admit, they hung in the air like three words she wouldn’t have believed if he said it.

YN smiled then, a small, bittersweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She still looked guarded, her walls firmly in place, but there was something soft in the way she glanced up at him, like maybe she felt it too—the finality of the moment they were both trying to avoid.

“I’ll miss you, too.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

And for a brief, fragile second, it was just them again, standing in the soft glow of the studio lights, the world outside forgotten. The weight of time, of change, of things left unsaid—all of it hung between them, heavy but delicate, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table.

Harry opened his mouth, wanting to say more, to ask her something, anything to keep her there a little longer. But before he could find the words, the moment slipped away, the weight of reality settling back in as YN turned away, gathering the last of her things.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room as she reached for the door, casting a long shadow across the studio floor. Harry watched as she stepped toward it, his heart heavy with the knowledge that everything was about to change, whether he was ready for it or not.

YN hesitated in the hallway, every nerve in her body begging her to leave. Her heart sat heavy in her chest, tongue in cheek as she turned back around, opening the door back up with trembling fingers. She stood in the doorway, cracked enough for her frame to linger. A stripe of the nauseating white light of the hallway waned over him and he remained in the same place she had left him moments ago. “Harry.” She muttered, her voice low, almost weary. There was something in the way she said his name, something different—like maybe she wanted to say more but didn’t know how to.

He perked up, his tummy doing flips. The pearly glow behind her made her seem ethereal—angelic. “Yeah?” His tone gentle but searching, like he was trying to pull something unspoken out of the quiet between them.

She looked at him then, fully, her eyes catching the last remnants of the dim light in the studio. For a moment, the guardedness slipped, just a fraction, and Harry could see something underneath—something vulnerable, something that felt a little like goodbye.

“I’m really glad I got to work with you.” YN’s voice was delicate, her words carrying a weight that made it threaten to crack. “This–this has been more than I ever could’ve asked for.”

She was referring to more than just the music and the internship.

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He didn’t know what to say to that—didn’t know how to tell her that she wasn’t just some random, throwaway intern to him, that these past few months had meant more than just music and late-night studio sessions. She had become a part of his world in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and now that she was leaving, it felt like something vital was being pulled away, leaving him standing on unsteady ground.

“Me too.” He confessed, though he could’ve said more. Harry’s voice was quieter than he intended, his hand running over his face from a feeling he couldn’t admit.

The words hung in the air, soft but honest. YN had seen parts of him that few people did—had understood his music, his vulnerabilities, in a way that made him feel seen. And now, the thought of her not being there—of her walking out that door and leaving all of this behind—made him feel strangely untethered.

YN’s lips curved into a small, almost wistful smile. She looked down at her shoes for a moment, the tip of her sneaker nudging a stray cable on the floor. “I didn’t mean to stay so late.” A weak attempt at lightening the moment. But her eyes betrayed her, the flicker of something deeper still lingering behind her words.

Harry took a step closer, closing the distance between them just slightly. “You know.”Harry mumbled, his tone lighter now, though the heaviness between them still lingered. “This feels a lot like a goodbye when y’have a few weeks still.”

YN glanced up at him, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess we do.” She let out a breathy chuckle, though her voice sounded distant, like she was already somewhere else in her mind.

Silence settled between them again, thicker this time, like the room itself was holding its breath. Harry wanted to say more—wanted to ask her what came next for her, wanted to tell her that maybe things didn’t have to end here—tell her to stay. But he didn’t. The words caught in his throat, tangled up with all the emotions he wasn’t sure how to name.

After a moment, YN shifted her bag on her shoulder and let out a soft breath. “I should get going.” She sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s late.”

Harry nodded, but his chest felt heavy, like he didn’t want her to leave just yet. “Yeah. Right. Let me know you got home okay.”

YN’s smile was small, almost bittersweet. She began to turn in the doorway, her movements slow, like the action of leaving pained her. He sent her a small wave as she gave him one last glance, the door softly clicking shut behind her.

The summer had begun to slip away quietly, the August sun sitting lower in the sky at earlier hours. The air was different that day—thicker, heavier with the weight of something ending. There was a finality to the way the light filtered through the studio’s window, soft and hazy, like the last days of vacation in an old photograph. Everything felt suspended, as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable.

Harry had known this day was coming. He’d tried not to think about it, tried to focus on the album, on the music, on the thousand little tasks that came with putting it all together. But today was different. No matter how much he had tried to push it out of his mind, the date had circled back around, staring him in the face.

August thirty-first.

YN’s last day.

He arrived at the studio earlier than usual, the streets outside still quiet, the early morning light pale and soft against the burning. The usual buzz of excitement—the thrill of working on his debut album—was muted, overshadowed by the knowledge that by the end of the day, YN would be gone.

As he set his guitar in the corner of the room, he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. She was already there, sitting at her usual spot by the control board, her notebook open in front of her, a pen poised between her fingers. She was focused, scribbling something down, but her movements were slower, more deliberate today. Harry could tell. She knew it too.

The room was quieter than usual, the hum of the equipment the only sound as he walked over to her. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It felt like there were a hundred things left unsaid, hanging in the air between them, waiting to be acknowledged. But neither of them said anything. Not yet.

“Morning.” Harry said softly, settling down into his chair across from her. He didn’t dare to greet her with good morning, because it really wasn’t. Not today. He didn’t know when it would be again.

“Morning.” She murmured, voice almost resigned, not looking up from her notebook. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and Harry felt his chest tighten.

They spent the morning working in the usual rhythm, going over the last details of the album. It should have been a day like any other, but there was a tension under the surface, something neither of them could quite shake. Every moment felt like it was leading up to something, like the end was creeping closer with each passing minute.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, the studio had filled with the usual buzz of people—producers, assistants, technicians—all busy, all focused. But Harry’s mind was somewhere else. He kept glancing over at YN, watching the way she moved around the studio, the way she interacted with everyone, like it was just another day. But he could see it in the way she lingered on certain tasks, the way her eyes scanned the room as if she was memorizing it.

It was nearing the end of the day when the rest of the team began wrapping up, gathering their things, making plans for the next session. The sun had begun to dip lower in the sky, casting the room in that soft, golden light that made everything feel both beautiful and bittersweet. Harry watched as the others said their goodbyes to YN, one by one, thanking her for her work, telling her to stay in touch. She smiled, gracious as ever, but there was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were already one foot out the door.

And then, it was just the two of them.

The door clicked shut behind the last person, and suddenly the room felt much bigger, the space between them much quieter. Harry stood by the window, his hands in his pockets, watching the light fade as the day slipped into evening. YN was still by the control board, slowly packing up her things—her notebook, her pens, the little scraps of paper she’d scribbled ideas on over the past few months. Her movements were slow, deliberate, holding onto to the moment just a little longer.

Harry turned to face her, his pulse thrumming a little too fast. He wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t prepared for this moment, not really. He had spent the last few weeks trying to avoid thinking about it, but now, standing there in the dimming light, he realized he still didn’t want her to leave.

“Are you all set?” He asked quietly, his voice sounding too casual for how much dread he felt inside.

YN glanced up, her eyes meeting his for the first time all day. There was a flicker of something there—something that matched the weight in his chest—but she quickly looked away, zipping up her bag with a small nod.

“I guess so.” She forced a smile, standing up from her chair. “I think that’s everything.”

The silence that followed felt as if nails scratched an old chalkboard, stretching out between them like a line drawn in the sand. Harry took a slow breath, trying to steady himself, trying to find the words he hadn’t been able to say all day. He watched as she slung her bag over her shoulder, her fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the soundboard one last time, like she was saying goodbye to something bigger than just the room.

Harry wanted to ask her to stay, wanted to tell her that things didn’t have to end here—that maybe, just maybe, there was more for them beyond this room, beyond this summer. But he couldn’t. He knew her too well by now, knew that she had already made up her mind.

“I guess this is goodbye then.” She frowned, eyes glasses over.

His stomach lurched. She had his number, of course, but Harry didn’t know if she would keep in contact. He didn’t know she would erase the summer from her mind to ease her heart. Harry swallowed hard, the lump in his throat causing him to wince. “Goodbye, YN.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The room was bathed in the last traces of sunshine, everything feeling suspended in time. And then, slowly, YN stepped toward the door, her fingers brushing the handle. She paused, glancing back at him one last time, her expression unreadable.

And he caught himself. The all too familiar lump in his throat at a dull ache, the tip of his nose tickling as he felt tears well up. His feet moved faster than he could think, just a blink of time, and his hand was wrapped around her forearm, pulling YN away from the door. “That’s it?” He asked, his cheeks flushing red and his voice cracked. “That’s all?”

She frowned, her nostrils flaring as she willed away her tears. She adjusted the tote on her shoulder, averting her gaze from Harry to the wall behind him.

“Stay.” He pleaded, she only shook her head.

Stray tears fell from his eyes, heartbroken. “I can have them extend your internship, or something—please.”

Her eyes met his again, stomach twisting at his tears. “Harry that’s a hand out.” She muttered, sighing with a sadness she tried to push away. “I have to move forward.”

He sniffled, lighting placing his hand on her cheek as he brought her into a kiss. His tears made his lips wet, nose too stuffy to breathe through it—but he didn’t care. He figured this was goodbye, for a while.

Her lips were stilled against his until she melted into it, but it was fleeting. She placed her hand upon the one he had on her cheek, removing it as she pulled her face away. She intertwined her fingers with his, placing a few soft kisses to his knuckles.

He only stood there, lips quivering with tears that were unable to stop. As she began to loosen the grip on his hand, putting his arm back to his side, an audible cry left his mouth. It wasn’t loud, barely above a whisper, but it was there. “Y’pinky promised me.” He shook his head, “That we would stay friends.” He took a deep breath, wiping away some of his tears. “But I know you’re gonna disappear on me.”

This time she let her tears fall, taking a step away—the guilt was allconsiming. “Take care of yourself, H.”

And just like that, she was gone as quick as she came.

But that was two months ago, and Harry was right—she barely kept in contact with him. He tried not to take it personally for a while, seeing as she didn’t update her socials as much either. She disappeared just like a snuffed out flickered flame of a candle.

She would respond occasionally, curious to know if he was okay, how the album was going. It was always fine.

Fine, fine, fine.

But he wasn’t fine, it wasn’t fine. He missed her, Harry felt that she broke their promise. And he wanted to be angry, to block her from his mind, but he couldn’t.

He was planning to fly to LA to finish the rest of the album in late September, but couldn’t do it. He remained in New York, not ready to let go of the many things created in that studio.

It was two in the morning as he stared at the bright glare of his phone, the recently sent attachment of the final cut of Carolina staying the dismal state of delivered.

He knew she had her read receipts on, which is why he didn’t swipe away from their messages—heart thudding against his chest as he waited to see if status would ever change to read.

Of course, undeniably so, the song was about another girl. But now it felt like a contradictory, because the only thing he thought about when listening to it was YN.

He knew now that he loved her, that he was in love with her the minute she sent her nod of approval for the From the Dining Table recording.

He was a walking joke to the saying of, she fell first, he fell harder—because he fell first, and then fell even harder.

Harry groaned, shutting his phone off and letting it slip into his lap as he leaned back onto the bed. The heel of his palm sat against his eyes, the pressure allowing for the kaleidoscope of colors and patterns to play on the inside of his eyelids.

He wondered if slamming his head against the wall would feel better than the ache of heartbreak.

However, he didn’t want to test that theory out. He’ll let it remain as a hypothesis for now.

His hands brushed down to his sides, his vision fading back to normal as he stared at the ceiling. He wanted to see if he could go to sleep, maybe even watch a movie—but his phone vibrated against his thigh and he swore the world stopped spinning on its axis for a beat.

He hesitated to look, if it was another weather notification he would probably lose his mind.

But he sat up anyway, grimacing as he clicked the power button, dreading the possible sight of the familiar blue icon.

Yn: everything i imagined it to be and more

Yn: forever proud of you harry styles

His shoulders faltered, a frown settling upon his lips.

h: I miss you.

YN stared at the message, lips parted. She still sat on the bathroom counter where she had been for the last ten minutes, smooshed close to the mirror in attempt to shape her eyebrows.

But as soon as she saw the song attachment pop up three minutes ago, the tweezers remained in its clattered state in the sink.

When the song emitted from her phone she couldn’t help but smile, she swear she could’ve floated. And then she cried.

h: I have 2 more songs to finalize before we send it through to be released next year.

h: Miss picking your brain.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a pause in her breath. She wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her wanted to respond right away, to fill the silence with words, to close the gap between them that had grown wider with every passing day since she left. But the other part of her—the part that had been protecting her heart all these months—wanted to stay distant, to keep things as they were, safely tucked away in the past.

YN sighed, running a hand through her hair as she glanced at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. The one who had walked out of the studio with a heavy heart and the quiet resolve to move forward, to start anew. But that resolve was wavering now, and Harry’s words were making it impossible to ignore the ache she’d been trying to avoid.

Her phone buzzed again. Another message.

h: Still time to come back, you know. We could finish the album together.

Her heart clenched at the invitation. She could picture him, sitting in the dim light of his apartment, maybe lying in bed, the soft glow of his phone the only thing lighting up his face. She imagined the look in his eyes as he typed the words, that same softness she had seen in him so many times before—when they worked late into the night, when he caught her staring too long, when he let his guard down just enough for her to see the vulnerability underneath.

But she had walked away for a reason. She knew what it would do to her—how easy it would be to fall back into the rhythm of working with Harry, of getting lost in his music, in him. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. She wasn’t sure if she could handle the intensity of what lingered between them, the unspoken connection that had grown stronger with every conversation, every glance, every laugh shared.

She didn’t know if she wanted to take the risk to be left again.

h: Please. Just think about it.

Her fingers trembled as she typed, mouth ran dry. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew she couldn’t leave him hanging.

Yn: i’ll think about it

It was short, maybe too short, but it was all she could offer in that moment. She stared at the message for a long time before hitting send, her stomach twisting with the uncertainty of what came next.

On the other end, Harry stared at his phone, his heart sinking as he read her reply. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. It was something in between, something that left him in limbo, waiting for an answer he wasn’t sure would ever come.

He sat there in the silence of his apartment, the city outside moving on as it always did. He wanted to see her again, wanted to finish what they’d started, not just with the music, but with whatever had been building between them all those months. But he knew he couldn’t push her. YN was careful, guarded, and he had learned that the hard way. She had her reasons for keeping her distance, reasons she had never fully shared with him.

But still, he hoped. Hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’d come back. That maybe, for once, she’d take a chance.

And so he waited, the phone resting in his lap, the weight of the unsaid words heavy in the room around him.

The days passed slowly after that, each one blending into the next as Harry focused on finishing the album. He threw himself into the work, pouring all of his energy into the final tracks, refining the sound, changing some lyrics, adding new elements.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The songs were good—great, even—but without YN’s input, without her presence in the studio, it all felt a little hollow. He missed her—missed her laugh, missed the way she’d furrow her brow when she was deep in thought, missed the way she made him feel like he didn’t have to be Harry Styles all the time. With her, he was just Harry. And that was enough.

He loved her.

He hadn’t heard from her since that night. No messages, no calls. It was like she had disappeared all over again, slipping out of his life as quietly as she had entered it.

It was November sixteenth when his phone buzzed again, a message lighting up the screen. The sky was dull, a harsh breeze whipping around the branches of trees—gearing up for a downpour. His heart raced as he saw her name, his fingers fumbling to unlock the phone.

Yn: you’re in ny still?

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected to hear from her again, not after weeks of silence.

h: Still here. Why?

There was a long pause before her next message came through.

Yn: i’ve been thinking about you

It was as if the system his body needed to stay alive had paused, his mind racing with possibilities. He couldn’t believe it—after all this time, she was finally considering it.

h: If you ever feel ready, I’m right where you left me.

Another pause.

Yn: it was ever just about the album h

Her message hit him like a punch to the chest, the weight of it settling in slowly. He had known—of course, he had known—but seeing it there, written out in front of him, made it all the more real.

Harry stared at the message for a long time, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he tried to find the right words. But what could he say? He felt the same way, had felt it for months, but he hadn’t known how to tell her.

He attempted to, the day she left, cried even. But she walked away before he had the chance to continue.

h: I know.

It was simple, but it was true. He did know. He had known all along.

Yn: are you still recording at the same studio?

Harry’s heart leapt at her words, a surge of hope flooding through him.

h: Yeah, actually here right now. Brainstorming by myself for a bit.

Yn: buzz me in. i’m outside

Harry blinked, rereading the message a few times, the tips of his fingers all pins and needles

Outside.

She was there—outside, in the cold, waiting. Without thinking, he shot out of his chair, the legs scraping the studio floor with a harsh screech. His phone almost slipped from his hand as he fumbled to send her a quick reply. His movements were so frantic he had forgotten to press send.

He grabbed his jacket, threw it over his shoulders, and bolted for the door, his mind racing. She was here.

He wondered if he should slow down, would it be weird to greet her breathless at the door?

He rolled his eyes at himself. stop overthinking.

The hallway lights flickered slightly as he made his way down the corridor, his steps fast. He wasn’t sure what he would say, wasn’t sure what she would say, but none of that mattered. All he knew was that she was here, and that was enough for him right now.

When he finally reached the front entrance, he paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the buzzer. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions bubbling inside him. There was a weight to this moment—something bigger than just a simple reunion. He could feel it, like the air had thickened with all the unsaid words between them.

He pressed the button.

A soft buzz echoed through the small space, followed by the familiar click of the door unlocking. Harry pulled it open, stepping out into the crisp November air. The wind whipped around him, biting at his skin, but it didn’t matter because there she was.

YN stood a few feet away, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, her hair tousled by the wind. Her face was partially shadowed in the dingy light from the streetlamps, but he could still see her eyes—those same eyes that had watched him in the studio all those months ago, the ones that saw more than most people ever did.

The eyes of a girl he fell so pathetically in love with.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other in the cold, neither of them moving. It was like time had paused again, just as it had so many times before when they were alone in the studio, surrounded by music but drowning in something deeper. Harry’s breath caught in his throat, unsure how to break the silence.

Finally, YN spoke, her voice quiet but steady, cheeks flushed from both her deepening blush and the cold. “Hi, Harry.”

The sound of her voice hit him like a wave, familiar and comforting, and all the tension he’d been holding onto seemed to unravel at once. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and smiled, though his heart was still racing. “Hi.”

It was such a simple exchange, but it felt like everything. For weeks, Harry had been caught in this strange limbo, not knowing if he’d see her again, not knowing if the distance between them was permanent. But here she was, standing right in front of him, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like things were finally shifting.

“It’s cold.” His voice is light, jutting his chin ever so slightly to the outside that existed around them. “Come in, please.”He felt unsure of how much to say, how much to push.

YN hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering toward the door behind him. She shifted on her feet, the wind catching the ends of her coat and lifting it slightly. For a second, Harry thought she might say no, that maybe she was having second thoughts. But then, she gave him a small nod, a barely-there smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Harry held the door open as she walked past him, the familiar warmth of the studio wrapping around them both as they stepped inside. It was quiet—just the two of them now, the usual noise of the team gone for the night. He led her down the hallway toward the control room, the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, thoughts spinning with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t quite figure out how to.

When they reached the room, Harry gestured toward the seat she’d always occupied—the one by the soundboard where she’d spent so many hours offering ideas, tweaking lyrics, helping him make a few songs what they were. YN paused for a second before sitting down, her hands resting in her lap as she glanced around the room.

“It feels the same.” Her laugh was breathy, a sadness to it. Her eyes lingered on the equipment, the scattered notes, the half-empty coffee cups that still littered the space. “Like nothing’s changed.”

Harry sat down across from her, his fingers brushing absently against the neck of the guitar that leaned against the chair. “Not much has.” He admitted, his voice quiet. “Except for you not being here.”

She looked at him then, searching his face, and Harry felt that familiar pull—the one that had always drawn him to her, even when she’d kept herself at arm’s length. There was something in her gaze, something heavy with unsaid words, and he wondered if she could feel it too.

A beat had passed. “I missed this, she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you, H.

His cheeks felt hot, the words landing between them like a confession. He swallowed, his chest tightening with the weight of everything he wanted to say in return.

“I missed you too.”Harry murmured, the truth of it echoing in every syllable. And for the first time in months, the silence between them didn’t feel so heavy. It felt like maybe, just maybe, things were starting to fall back into place. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.

She shifted on her feet, eyes falling to the floor. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was sincere, dripping with the guilt she’s battled for months. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I needed to take some time, figure things out.”

He nodded, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. He would’ve tried to look better if he knew he’d be seeing her today. “It hurt.”

She pulled her lips between her teeth, eyes glossed over as she nodded. She had to look away, not able to face him. She knew she had done to him the same thing she was so afraid of—she just left. It gutted her for a while, wanting to reach out and apologize. She had this anxious feeling he wouldn’t forgive her. Rightfully so.

But it’s Harry.

He ran his hand down his face, a swirl of emotions becoming a cyclone within him. He frowned, seeing how spaced she was—as if she wasn’t here. “You need to tell me what’s on your mind.”

His tone was a bit more straightforward than he originally intended, but it was the truth. She showed up asking to be buzzed in, he felt as if he shouldn’t be the one digging.

She shook her head, trying to blink away some of her tears. “Guilt, sorrow, you.”

He nodded, looking at her expectantly to finish. He wished she could say her feelings as fast as she could walk away from them, but she was trying at least, and it felt like a start.

She inhaled shakily, running her fingers through her hair as her lip continued to tremble. “Guilt for leaving you the same what I feared being left.” Her voice had a tremor, her breaths a bit quicker. “Guilt for not saying sorry sooner. The pain of missing you—.” She whimpered, the same as Harry did the day she left.

“The guilt and sorrow will fade.” Harry murmured, his heart aching at the sight of her tears. “Y’just to work through it, don’t ignore it.”

YN wiped her cheeks, fingers shaking as she tried to regulate her breathing.. “And you?” Her voice was small, fragile, afraid of the answer.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Me?”

“Have I lost you?”

He frowned, the words caught in his throat. The question felt like it knocked the air from his lungs, and for a moment he didn’t know how to respond. The silence stretched between them, unbearable. He let his shoulders falter, “I love you, YN.”

The words hung between them, raw and unfiltered. It was stripped of all pretense, just the truth he carried with him for months. He watched her for any sort of reaction, and she just kind of stood there. He wondered for a moment if he even said anything, if it was just loud in his head but he actually had just left her hanging. “I love you.” He repeated, just in case.

"I–” She tried to speak, but her voice cracked.

She swallowed hard, tears still clinging to her lashes as she searched his face. The pain, the guilt, the regret—it was all still there, but beneath it, there was something else, something softer. Something she had kept hidden for so long, she wasn't sure how to let it out. “You do?”

He nodded, remaining vulnerable. He had no clue if she would reciprocate, or if she’d just walk away if met with the familiar fear. “Think I always have.”

For the first time, it didn't feel like there was a barrier. It felt like something was breaking, something that had been keeping them apart for far too long.

Without thinking, she reached for him, her fingers brushing against his arm, tentative at first, but then firmer as she closed the distance between them. He didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. She melted into him, her face pressed against his chest as the tears flowed freely now, the weight of months of separation, guilt, and pain finally slipping away.

Harry held her tightly, his chin resting on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body against his. This was what he had been missing—this. Not just the music, not just the friendship. It was her. All of her.

"I love you," he whispered again, the words soft and full of promise. "I’m here."

It was them, just them—like she’d never left.

#harry edward styles #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept #hs1 #2016 harry #lhh #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #one direction #one direction smut #one direction imagine

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oxydiane · 1 year ago

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we talk a lot about how sasuke and naruto are so crazy about each other but there’s never enough attention on how the rest of the naruto cast Also thinks they are two fucking lunatics. like we are not alone on this. you have jiraiya telling naruto he needs to not go and chase a mf who tried to snatch his heart out his ribcage and naruto is like no i’d rather be a fucking moron for the rest of my life honestly. you have naruto leaving a mission and saying sory i cannot stay i need to go home and wait for sasuke and the fucking platypus looks at him ???? like he even had me confused where are you goin g to wait? ? why are you saying that like sasuke is coming back the fuck did i miss??? you have the kage summit arc which is just a whole bucket of ice being dropped onto you because you come in and immediately get slapped in the face by naruto letting himself be beat up because he won’t tell them where sasuke is??? like he has any fucking idea where sasuke is. and sai tries to make him come to his senses like naruto??? naruto WHAT ARE U DOING. it’s so bad they need an intervention. right after that naruto faces the raikage and gets on his knees saying i know my almost boyfriend almost killed your brother but i promise it wasn’t on purpose he was just being silly please don’t put a bounty on his head a war will literally ensue. and like. there’s LAYERS to this. 1. even RAIKAGE is like BOY what are you doing. STAND UP. 2. at this point you can count the people who like sasuke on the fingers of one hand like WHO is gonna start a war over him… naruto out there moving a war against a whole country by himself over his bf ok you go girl i guess. after this it gets even worse like gaara has to go up to him and be like SASUKE DOWSNT CARE ABOUT YOU. HE DOES NOT WANT YOU. and naruto just slaps his hand away in front of his family like rude?????? ignoring anything it is hilariouuusssss and then sai is like sorry. sakura lied to you they are actually off to kill sasuke and naruto gets a panic attack so severe he passes out. like i am not joking it was so bad his friends tried to kill sasuke behind his back. and then naruto escapes bedriddenment (is that a word?) after passing out from his panic attack to run and make sure NOBODY kills sasuke. like he’s on a RUSH leaping those trees he’s a boy on a mission. then after he gets there he’s like kakashi DO NOT TOUCH HIM. they launch themselves at each other bla bla gay monologues did you see what was in my heart and then. and then naruto is like. wait sasuke. and sasuke waits like sorry that’s such a little thing but it’s so funny to me like sasuke was just acting a lil murderous crazy manic wtv but naruto told him to wait and he waits. ok good boyfriend. anyways moving on naruto is like do you get it sasuke. if we fight again we will BOTH DIE! (everybody gets a ?????? bubble) i am the only one who can shoulder all that hatred. i will CARRY THE BURDEN OF YOUR HATRED AND WE WILL DIE TOGETHER! and . absolutely Everybody in that room just goes ???????????? what the FUCK is he TALKING ABKHT. everybody except sasuke. sasuke smirks and he’s like sure. they just talked about dying together and meeting each other in a different life where they’ll be free of their burdens and they’re just Fine and all ok smiling at each other and everyone is so fucking confused. like the entire supporting cast is with us side eyeing sasuke and naruto and thinking what in the everloving FUCK is WRONG WITH YOU????????

#it’s 4 am again #and i am thinking about sasunaru again #soo talks #sasunaru #narusasu #sns #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto shitpost #rant #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #pro sns

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bigification · 7 months ago

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Step Daddy

"You really need to get over your stepdad man." My friend tells me, concerned.

"Look, I'll try this one last thing and if it doesn't work then I'll give it up." I respond. "Did you bring the sunglasses?"

"Yes, but just remember he's like 25 years older than you. He's probably not going to be into you, even after this." He says as he hands me a pair of old pilot shades.

I told him I could let it go, but I can't. I'm just putting all my eggs into this basket, the sunglasses. Apparently they're supposed to transform someone who wears them mentally and physically to match my type. He already is my type, but I guess I wouldn't mind him bulking up a bit and growing some hair. It would be sexy if he got more charming, but he's already charming as it is. I guess there's only one way to find out.

I wait on the living room couch watching tv. He always gets home from work at the same time, so I know he'll be here any minute. I sit and stare at my reflection in the glasses. Am I really ready to change this man's life so drastically. My friend said no one else would take notice of the change, so it'll be like nothing happened. As I'm thinking over it, I hear the roar of his engine from the driveway. I try to calm down, but I can feel my body vibrate from the nerves. The door flies open.

"Hey buddy, hows it goin?" He asks me with his hot southern accent.

"Not bad. By the way, I found these sunglasses lying around, and assumed they were yours." I try to play it cool as I lie to his face.

"Oh, thanks. But these aren't mine." He responds.

"Well you might as well keep em, they don't fit me anyway." I try to convince him to take them without seeming too pushy.

"Well alright, thanks kid." He swipes the glasses and throws them on.

That was easier than I thought. As soon as he put them on, he stopped moving. His jaw slacked as if there was not a thought running through his mind. It started slow, his button up started to look a little bit tighter. His once flat chest started to push against his shirt and the shape of a belly started to show. Then it started to speed up. His chest started to pulse, growing in size with each one. They grew until the button on his collar popped off, then another button popped, then another and another. His juicy pecs flopped down after being released from his shirt. His stomach was next. His midsection widened and his stomach grew into a respectable beer belly, straining against his shirt. It wasn't long before more buttons began to pop, until his shirt was completely open. His arms also looked like they doubled in size, filling out his sleeves with thick muscles.

Next his legs start to look like they're gonna burst out of his dress pants. I can hear the rips ripple through his pants as his thighs grow inside of them. His ass fills out all the space in his pants and proceeds to rip open his fly and snap his belt in half. I can tell his underwear is barely staying in one piece as a large bulge formed in between his legs.

Finally his face begins to change. His once skinny face fills out with fat, giving him a rounder look. I can see that hair is falling out of his hat until he is left completely bald under there. Though in return his clean shaven face grows a bushy beard. But the hair doesn't stop there. It continues down his chest and to his belly, and presumably the rest of his body. He finally regains control of his body. He sighs as he stretched out his arms and cracks his knuckles before looking right at me.

"Come here, son." He says in a deep buttery voice.

A shock travels through my spine as I think he might know what I've done to him.

"What'd I say boy!" He raises his voice.

I jump a bit before I walk closer to him. I realize how imposing he is up close. He must have gotten taller because he seems well over six feet tall now, and at least 250 pounds.

"Daddy had a stressful day, why don't you help him release some tension." He says as he pushes me to my knees.

I blush, this is everything I wanted from this, it just happened so much faster than I thought.

"Don't be shy, boy. This will be our little secret." He says as he pulls his underwear down.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #hairy #reality change #muscle tf #male transformation

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duckieflix · 1 year ago

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♡ ୨`kusuo saiki`୧

☆ ⸝⸝ "i thought you coming here was a one time thing", she raised an eyebrow. "just make my coffee."

kusuo saiki x reader

warnings: swearing, toritsuka.

monthly allowance. something saiki had very little trouble obtaining but had almost too much trouble trying to spend. usually he would buy a cup or two of coffee jelly but unfortunately the store had sold out. they said they would receive their next shipment in a week, but he don't feel like waiting that long.

saiki searched online for cafes that sold affordable coffee jelly and stumbled across a store that looked appealing. joyous day cafe. it had just opened up a few weeks ago and had already become a hit, they sold cutesy deserts and of course, coffee. now, he doesn't usually approach populated areas such as this one, however their coffee jelly had amazing reviews and was even sold for an even better price.

the place was, surprisingly, not as busy as saiki initially thought. the exterior was made of brick, painted an off white colour. there was pink and white striped shades above the windows and the sign was small and hung on the wall. saiki debated on whether to enter not, it was still pretty early in the day which meant it could still get busy over time. he would have turned away then and there but as he turned on his heel a familiar face peered down at him.

"oh hey buddy!", nendo grinned down at the pink haired boy who internally grimaced at his presence. he should’ve just waited for the next shipment to get to the stores. “you goin’ in? let’s go together!”

saiki was about to shake his head but was stopped by another voice that added to his demise, “saiki? you’re here?” teruhashi. great.

all he wanted to do was taste this coffee jelly and go home. but of course, fate had different plans. soon he was joined by kaido, hairo, yumehara and toritsuka. this coffee jelly better be worth it.

once they finally entered the cafe, they sat at a large booth that had soft pink seats. saiki was stationed between nendo and hairo, he was thankful the seats were large enough for at least a small amount of space to be between each person.

a waitress walked up to them, a small smile on her face. she adorned a white button up shirt, black mini skirt with a frilly apron over it and black mary janes with frilly socks. her h/c hair was in a messy low bun and she held a pen and notepad in her hands. everyone immediately recognised her, it was y/n l/n from their class.

“oh! hey guys, fancy seeing you here!”, she smiled her eyes scanned the table and beamed at the familiar faces.

now surprisingly, saiki didn’t mind y/n’s existence as much as the others. only because y/n didn’t put in too much effort into being around him. she was very casual and didn’t smother him with unwanted attention like everyone else, for that he was thankful. their interactions were short, nothing more than a quick hello or a quick conversation about whatever was going on in class but it only lasted a few words.

“what can i get you guys?” y/n clicked her pen.

everyone began ordering, they all ordered the most popular or random dishes. bear shaped tarts, paw print waffles, galaxy tea? it was all so bizarre.

of course, saiki ordered his simple serving of coffee jelly. however, another item on the menu caught his eye. it was called the psychic special. obviously it was just a fun name but he couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the name. the small description stated it was a latte that had a random choice of latte art, if you guessed what the latte art was, you’d get your order half off.

y/n simply nodded and said she’d be back with their orders. toritska’s eyes wandered a little too far down for saiki’s liking, his gaze grazing against the back of y/n’s thighs. "who knew l/n was such a hottie? with legs like that she should be model!". these thoughts irritated saiki so, with enough force to inflict pain, yet not too much as to cause a scene, saiki kicked the purple headed male’s shin. when he yelped in pain, saiki smirked.

"perv"

the group began to babble about the cafe’s interior and admired the many cutesy decorations splattered everywhere. meanwhile, saiki had taken notice of a glass case that had a variety of hot steaming treats aligned neatly next to each other. it was right next to the register and also next to the machine that made the coffee, which happened to be where y/n was.

“hey saiki,” she smiled, “i saved you a small booth over by the corner, thought you’d want some peace and quiet away from that bunch” she pointed over to the group of teens that had suddenly started an arm wrestling match. currently, nendo was on a winning streak.

“you’re an angel in disguise, l/n” saiki nodded at her with his usual stoic expression.

“just doing my job!” y/n gave him a thumbs up before her expression turned quizzical, “what’s up with you coming here? not that i mind, just doesn’t seem like a saiki kinda place”

saiki continued to look at the treats through the shiny glass, “me being here is a one time thing, don’t get used to seeing my face.”

y/n just wordlessly nodded with a smile as he hobbled over to the booth that she saved. it was in a plant covered corner, there was a bookshelf to the left and a window to the right. it only had two chairs, one was occupied by saiki and the other was vacant. in between was a brown circle table. perfect.

a few minutes passed before y/n approached saiki with his order on a circular tray. a glass with a small white ribbon looped around the stem sat neatly in front saiki, the brown gelatin dish smiled up at him, a swirl of whipped cream sat atop the dessert. y/n placed a mug with a small umbrella like cover over the top that saiki assumed contained his 'psychic special'.

"now as you probably guessed, if you guess the latte art, you get your entire order for half of the original price" she slid the tray underneath her arm as she awaited saiki's response.

now obviously this was just a fun game that some people would play, a game of chance. except, this little game was nothing to saiki, being psychic and all, this was just way too easy.

"its a heart" he bluntly stated.

y/n lifted the cover to reveal indeed, it was a heart. she smiled at him warmly, "you're one of the first customers to get that right, good job saiki" she left his table after explaining she would be back with his bill. at this point, the cafe might as well be a restaurant.

when she left, saiki couldn't help but look at her longingly as she walked away. she was definitely one of the more tolerable ones, he couldn't believe he actually enjoyed her presence.

scooping up a chunk of the coffee jelly, he plopped the serving into his mouth and nearly melted at the taste. it was just the right amount of sweet and bitter, the cream made the jelly smoother than regular jelly. it was like heaven!

"holy shit"

after saiki had paid for his order, he waved goodbye to y/n.

"see you at school saiki! thanks for stopping by!" she saved at him, it was a miracle she didn't see the obvious flush of his cheeks. then again, saiki probably cooled himself down before anything could make an appearance.

"buddy! where were you?! we were so worried!" oh.

saiki had been so caught up in enjoying his meal that he forgot about the problems that awaited him. they seemed to have been standing outside waiting for his arrival, how dedicated. they all expressed their worry for his sudden disappearance which made his once amazing mood slightly falter.

they all started down the bricked path, saiki taking one final glance at the cafe. he looked at the building longingly, a strange warm feeling pooling inside of him. he had never felt something like this before, best to not do anything about it.

the bell that hung on the door frame rung throughout the mostly empty cafe, alerting the h/c haired girl behind the counter.

“welcome to joyous day, how may i-“ she stopped herself “saiki?”

our pink protagonist smiled fondly at y/n, something that was never seen. he adorned a pale blue polo shirt and black jeans. something casual yet classy for his visit.

“i’ll get what i ordered last time please” saiki pointed at his usual order on the small menu board, earning a skeptical look from the girl opposite him. she simply nodded.

she started to prepare the hot drink, although her eyes never left the psychic. her cheeks glowed at him, her heart rate picking up slightly. she never took him for the kind of person to become a regular at this establishment, she took him for a simplistic guy. not that she was complaining, if he was here a lot more she’d actually look forward to coming to work. unbeknownst to her, kusuo was feeling something similar.

“i thought you coming here was a one time thing?” she raised a brow.

“just make my coffee”

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

Text

When The World Seems So Cruel

prompt: ( requested ) Billy knows something's bothering his girl, so, he follows his instincts and checks on her - family, friends, and slutty cheerleaders in bikinis be damned.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5.1k+

warnings: cursing, smut 'cause why not, boys being assholes 'cause they're losers, misogyny, toxic / abusive / neglectful family, description of background violence, angst, did Cherry really write it if there wasn't a helluva lot of projection and need for revocation of internet access?

"Miss Cahill? I'm sorry to interrupt," you half-smiled at your math professor, "but I was just wondering if you still had my test? I never got mine back."

"Right," she cleared her throat, glancing around your body to see most of the class empty at that point. "I wanted to talk to you about that," she paused to pull out your test from a manilla folder. "I was very shocked to grade this under your name, honey, you're usually such a well-focused and high-achievin' student, I mean, you're on track for the Nat Scholarship! So, to see this... Was shockin', it's... Not your best work," she winced, handing the packet over.

You blinked in shock, frowning as anxiety mounted in your chest when you saw the glaring F in red marker. You mumbled in embarrassment, "I guess I've just been off my game..."

"Honey," Miss Cahill sighed in her light country accent, leaning on her desk with both fists so your eyes met hers, "I can always tell when one of my students is goin' through somethin' at home."

You froze, shaking your head, "No, no, it's not... It's not so bad."

"What's goin' on?"

You shrugged, "I've just been... Really tired," you decided on excusing, hoping beyond hope it was enough.

It wasn't, of course it wasn't. Miss Cahill just sighed and offered, "I can let you retake the test next week - but only after you go see the guidance counselor."

"Right... Um, yeah, okay, yeah, sounds good; um, thanks, Miss Cahill."

You made an escape, distracted by the third failing test you received this week; nearly barreling straight into a meaty, solid chest. "Woah, hey, no need to run 'round lookin' for the man of your dreams, I'm right here, doll," Billy teased, hands grabbing your upper arms to steady you. "What's got you inna rush, baby? You know I pick you up after this class."

You smiled in brief distraction, "Yeah, sorry, baby, I was just thinking about this essay coming up. Hi," you offered, stretching up on your toes to kiss him in greeting. "How're you?"

He half-smirked, "I'm good, you know Mr. Brunson's got a stick up his ass as usual."

"Mhm. As usual, and totally has nothing to do with you provoking him," you teased, latching onto his waist as you shoved your test deep in your shoulder-bag. You neared his locker, and you managed to choke out, "Hey, um... Y-You wanna get outta here?"

Billy offered you a look of mild confusion, smirking with a strange laugh, "You wanna ditch school?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

"I'm just tired," you offered meekly, "I feel like I haven't slept in a week."

Billy lead you up to his locker, hand on your waist to keep you close as he mused, "This feels like a setup."

"It's not, I promise."

He yanked the metal door open, "Uh-huh. You told me when I met you that I'd have to practically kidnap you to get you to skip class. Huh? 'Member all that? All them lectures you gave me 'bout the importance of goin' t'class if I wanna do anything after this shithole?"

"Yeah, but things change, Bee."

Billy's face dropped, shoving his books into his open locker before turning, leaning his shoulder on the locker next to his, arms crossed as he stared at you. "What's wrong?" He questioned sharply.

"Billy, I'm just tired."

"No, it's something else. What's wrong? What's goin' on?"

You sighed, "You know what? It's okay, nevermind, I actually promised Eddie that I'd help him make those banners for SGA during lunch today, so," you glanced around, "I'm gonna go."

"Nah, baby, hol' up, I ain't mean - "

"I know, handsome," you promised softly, nodding as you reached for his waist to give a squeeze and keep him close. "I just forgot I told a friend I'd help them out, so, I'll just see you after, yeah?"

One hand rose to pet over your cheek, sighing, "You sure you're good? You don't look okay, sugar."

"I'm good," you nodded, deflating into his embrace and hearing him chuckle. "I'm just stretched thin this week, probably shouldn't make promises to my delinquent friends with all the college drama to worry about."

"What'd Munson do this time to only get banner-duty? Huh?"

"Probably got caught skipping or something," you mumbled against his pectoral; inhaling the scent of his mall-bought cologne and finding it a refreshing change from the CVS-brand he used when you first met. "School did something right by makin' everyone in detention serve the SGA for all their shit."

"Definitely got me to shape up," he joked, pecking the top of your head before finishing, "but I mostly missed out on time with you."

"Hey... I was thinking, maybe I can come over this weekend? Keep Max company, maybe keep Neil at bay? Can have a sleepover, too, if you want."

Now Billy's head cocked and his expression hardened, "The fuck you wanna come over for? You know how tense shit gets - "

"Billy."

"Nah, you're not makin' sense, pretty girl," he snapped, pulling back to stare down at you. "What's going on with you? You don't wanna be at home or something? The fuck's goin' on that's so bad you'd rather be at my place?"

You felt tongue tied, but the bell rang shrilly and literally saved you from needing to answer. "Shit, I gotta run, baby. I'll find you later, okay?" You promised, lifting onto your toes to kiss him, promising, "I love you."

He frowned, grumbling, "Yeah, love you, too." He watched you vacate the hall, his mind basically going blank to all other thought beside you. The entire lunch period, he sat on the hood of his car, chain smoking, wondering where he went wrong; what he did to upset you; what could be going on and most importantly, why you couldn't say anything to him about it.

However, after lunch, Billy found you in the library's designated SGA room and thought you appeared ten times as relaxed, laughing with Eddie Munson. When the punk caught Billy's eye, he nodded in respect; gesturing for you to look, and your head turned with a smile. You parted from Eddie and trotted up to Billy, feeling relieved when he grabbed you in a possessive hold; searing his lips to yours.

"Hi," you giggled.

"You seem happy."

"Kinda hard to be in a bad mood around Eddie."

"I can see," he lead you away. He wanted to bring back up about whatever was bothering you, but didn't; fearing ruining your joyful mood. Instead, his fingers just tangled with yours and you entered history together.

What should've been a decently peaceful class turned into a state of confusion for you and Billy when the intercom kicked on, the front office asking for your presence with the principal. Billy glared at the speaker box as you cast him a look of doubt, both confused by the summons; being all too used to them calling his name instead. All of history passed miserably; Billy alone without his favorite person to keep him on track and becoming antsy the longer you were gone. When you didn't return by the end of class, he grabbed anything you left and begrudgingly went to the last two classes of the day.

When the final bell rang, Billy waited for you at his car for a solid 25 minutes with several cigarettes being burned, but when you still didn't show, he grew worried. So, he stored everything in his Camaro, not needing to worry about his sister because Max got a ride home with her new bestie, Jane, and her father, Jim Hopper, and stormed through the school. Anger radiated off his very being, nearly stomping his steps, and just before he got to the front lobby, he saw you exiting the office.

You didn't notice him at first, and for a moment, Billy thought you were going to hurl whatever was on your stomach as you held a few pieces of paper in shaking hands. "Baby," he called your attention, finding your eyes light up at the sight of him. "The hell's goin' on? You were gone the rest of the day, I got worried."

"Yeah, it was some shit wrong with my college applications, but we got it straightened out," you lied, stepping into his embrace. "I'm sorry I worried you, handsome."

He met your lips in a kiss, promising, "Not your fault. C'mon, day's over, our weekend can start once we get the hell outta here."

"Hmm," you hummed dreamily. "Lemme go to my locker and we can get gone."

Billy didn't mind waiting, and when you were done at your locker, he escorted you to his car; only a few students still lingering after hours. He opened your passenger door, winking at you, then quickly jogged to his side and slid in. "C'mere," he breathed, reaching for your cheek instantly; hand sliding along the back of your neck and bringing you in close.

You moaned when Billy's lips molded to yours; all but instantly salivating when his tongue tangled with your own in a messy dance. You had a few rules about PDA, especially in school; but being in his car was neural territory and Billy needed a way to expel his neediness. Praising God for making today steadily warm and that you wore a skirt, you were ready to cry when Billy's hand came down to grip the meat of your thigh.

"Billy," you rushed when his hand traveled under your skirt to ghost over your panties.

"Nobody's here t'watch," he smirked. "C'mon, lemme do this for you, pretty girl. You don't wanna go home yet, right? Ain't got some curfew?"

"Nope," you surged forward to slam your lips to his, moaning when his hand now confidently pet your panties as your legs spread all the wider to encourage him.

"Good girl," he praised quickly, skimming the apex of your thigh to hook your panties and pull them to the side. "Mhm," he hummed with a cocky smirk, "I knew you liked getting fucked in public. Feel how fuckin' wet you are - shit, Goddamn."

You mewled; tension mounting as you tightened up from the stoking pleasure. "Billy - " You gasped when he plunged his fingers into your cunt, easily sliding in due to your arousal. "Ohhh, fuck," you breathed, eyes shut and mouth agape in pleasure, "needed this - needed this so bad. Just needed you."

"You'll get so much more, baby."

You whimpered, "Now, please. Please, please, please."

He smirked, "Wanna get in the back or ride me, princess? Huh? Tell me what you need."

Your eyes locked with his as you thought it over, but then, you smirked as you readjust the passenger seat and turned so your ass was propped up. It gave him a full view of your messy cunt; panties askew from his previous motions and fluid rubbed all around. Billy reached out with one hand to plunge his pointer and middle finger back into your core, the other wrangling open his belt, button, and jean zipper in frantic movements.

He shimmied from the garments and sat up, following your lead in adjusting his seat. He instantly mounted behind you over the center console, licking his palm and stroking his himself to life as he drug his cockhead up and down your wetness.

Billy reached out to move your panties once more, line himself up, and plunge full-hilt. You gasped and grunted, letting yourself be shoved forward a little to catch on the seat; Billy hissing between his teeth as your warmth enveloped him in a sticky-wetness. "Hang on, doll, ah, fuck, there we go," he chuckled, readjusting his position before starting to move his hips to create the most delicious friction.

"Fuuuuck, Billy!" You whined when he held both your hips with only one hand keeping your panties to the side.

"Needed this, too," he chuckled. "Good girl, fuckin' taking me so well. You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you? Fuck you however I want to, huh? Yeah," he lifted one hand to smack the meat of your bottom, creating a ripple; liking the way you twitched and delivered two more, finishing, "I know my pretty baby would let me do whatever I fucking wanted with her - " he clenched his teeth, hips punctuating his words, "'cause she was fuckin' made for me."

"Yes," you moaned, mind blank from all the previous drama of your day; ready to weep like a bitch in heat, "anything, baby, yes, yes, yes, anything you want."

"Good girl," he laughed ruefully; picking up the pace to fuck you outta your mind as he ensured you felt every throbbing vein of his engorged cock. He chased his own orgasm as you were charged with your own; hand reaching for your clit to start applying pressure in tight circles. "Let me cum in you, sweetheart. C'mon, baby, tell me I can cum in you - in this pretty pussy - in my pretty pussy - lemme fuckin' cum in you."

"Billy, fuck - yes, baby, yes! Yes, harder, please, fuck me harder and you can cum wherever you want."

"Even your ass?"

"Yes, Daddy, yes, anything you want! Fuck my ass full of your cum, please, fuck, I need it! Whatever you want, I need. Please!"

Billy's golden curls stuck to his forehead and neck, entire car rocking with frantic, animalistic movements - but anyone lingering around the school to see it wasn't surprised. Billy felt like he went faster than usual, that he got a little rougher; but he was nearing his end and it was hard to keep pace. When you cried out and legs shook from your flash-bang of an orgasm, he knew you had finished and could focus on his own; never pulling out.

He'd fuck your ass later.

"Fuck!" Billy came with a shout; shooting hot, salty, opaque white ropes of cum into your quivering cunt. He stuttered his hips into the meat of your ass, balls contracting; emptying himself inside you as you relished in the feeling of his warmth flooding your lower belly. He chuckled, mocking, "Might just have to get you off that pill so I can get you fucking pregnant already."

"Whatever Daddy wants."

Billy laughed as he pulled out of you slowly, instantly turning again to crash into his driver seat. You went a little limp but managed to turn over, both panting as the windows were fogged up; but aired out when Billy rolled two down to light up his cigarette. "So," he spoke through his inhale and deep breaths, "you wanna tell me whats wrong now?"

"Hmm?"

"Why're you so distracted? Distant? Even with me?"

You felt panicked by the confrontation, resorting to your last line of defense. "Just dealing with a lot," you answered as your legs spread as wide as you could to start toying with your beaten-pussy. He watched with a stoic expression as you used your fingers to stuff his dripping-cum back inside you. "'S been stressful, guess I just had a bad day," you whined lightly, still playing.

"Fuck's sake."

"Hmm?" You feigned innocence.

"You're just askin' for it, huh?"

"Maybe," you pouted, "or maybe I just need your cum - "

"Cut it out, we gotta go," he snickered, turning the key in the ignition. "Your dad hates me enough, can't have you late for family dinner."

You went quiet as your thoughts were plagued with a screaming voice that begged Billy to just read your mind and understand what was wrong - why you were so upset, so panicked. But you knew better. So, you flipped down your skirt and readjusted yourself, sucking your fingers of his cum before letting his hand tangle with one of yours on your lap.

"Maybe you'd wanna come over tonight?" You asked softly. "Go see a movie or something?"

"You never wanna go out on Friday nights," he chuckled, but something felt terribly wrong about the notion. "You do homework and study on Friday and Sunday nights, you said it was a relationship rule, huh?"

"Things can change," you pouted.

"I told Tommy and Ryan I'd hang with them and the guys tonight," Billy spoke slowly. "But I can cancel if you - "

"No, no, don't," you shook your head, "go see your friends. 'Cause I'll see you in the morning, right?"

"Right."

"And I can stay the night... Right?"

Billy nodded, "Anytime you want, baby, yeah."

"Okay, cool," you spoke softly, deflating in his seat when he pulled up to your house. "Um..." You stared up at the home as if it were haunted. "Do you wanna come in for a little?"

His head tilted and brows furrowed, "I have to pick up Max from Hopper's, remember?"

"Right!" You gaped, but didn't move.

"What's wrong?" He asked with a hardened tone, making you gulp lightly. "You don't wanna go in?"

"I could, like, just go with you?"

"Baby, the fuck's going on? Know I hate repeating myself and shit, so just fucking tell me - maybe I can fucking help."

"Nothing, no, it's just, it's nothing, I'm sorry, I just - I'm sorry," you chuckled. "Guess I'm PMSing and feel clingy or something."

He only hummed as you leaned over to kiss him in parting. Both promised you love each other before you got out, jogging up the driveway and opening the front door; pausing to wave at him and then disappear in the house.

"Yo, dickhead! Hey! Grab me a beer!" Tommy Hagan called to Ryan Sheen as he went to rummage in his uncle's basement fridge. "And grab Billy one, too!"

"Nah, I'm good," Billy refused, glancing at the can in his hand. It was still half-full. He didn't feel like drinking after having time to sit and think about your behavior the past few days, worrying about you more than he wanted to get drunk.

"What?" Tommy laughed obnoxiously, smacking his teeth after. "You don't want a second? What's wrong with you, got some test you gotta study for?" He laughed at his own joke. In Tommy H.'s mind, only fucking losers study on Friday nights.

"Nah," Billy eased, setting his can down as he felt his irritation flare. He was annoyed at Tommy, sure, but also by the idea that something was wrong with you and you didn't trust him enough to say anything. "I actually gotta go, you guys," Billy stood.

"What?" Now Ryan scoffed, slapping a can of beer to Tommy's open hand. "You're not serious, dude! We've only been here, fuckin' what? Half an hour, bro!" He sucked his teeth in annoyance, rolling his eyes, "C'mon, we were going to Alicia's pool party tonight - you're supposed to give us a ride! The fuck's more important than the slutty cheerleaders in bikinis?"

"That Maria chick's been all over you, too," Tommy laughed. "You can't tell us a single thing that's better than Maria Thomas, all soaped up, in that tiny bikini she wore for the car wash. It's all our wet dreams come to life, Billy, you can't seriously consider missing that!"

"Not everybody's desperate to see Maria's tit-job. You know what? Whatever, man, I gotta go see my girl," he tugged his jean jacket on, tugging his blonde curls out of the collar.

Ryan rolled his eyes as Tommy laughed, "No way. Nuh-uh. You're seriously going to fuckin' ditchin' us for that chick?"

"Man, fuck you, guys, I'm ditching your dumbasses for my girl," Billy snapped. "Better what your fucking mouths and how you talk about her."

"Whatever, man. You're just whipped."

"She got you on some leash or some shit? Got you on a curfew like she's your mommy?" Ryan rolled his eyes, groaning, "Seriously, dude, we only see you at practice now!"

"Look, I just know something's up with her, so, I gotta check on - "

"So, what!? She ain't even tell you why she's pissed off? C'mon, man, that is such a stupid fuckin' tactic chicks use to get guys to go crawling back to their spoiled asses! Bitches do the pettiest shit to get us to suck up to them and shit."

Billy turned and easily caught Tommy by the collar of his shirt before he could even let go of his beer can, slamming the loudmouth into the wall as the aluminum can clattered. Ryan and the two other irrelevant guys left in the basement could only freeze, knowing Billy Hargrove's aggression and not wanting to become part of the receiving end.

"I told you to watch your fucking mouth," Billy seethed.

"Fuck offuva me!" Ryan pushed Billy's arms off. "She's just some bitch, bro, you've already fucked most of the school - what's so different with her?"

Billy scoffed, nodding in amusement as he backed off a few steps. "You know? If I wanna go hang with my girl instead of you deadbeat dickheads, 's exactly what I'm gonna do. Not my fault y'all ain't shit and don't know what it means to keep a chick happy."

"Fuck off, Billy! You're so fucking pussy whipped!" Tommy barked. "Ditching us for that crybaby! Dude, it's not even real! She didn't even tell you whatever she's all upset about! You just had a feeling, so, just sit the fuck down, finish your drink, down a fuckin' second beer, and then let's go to the party! See some bitches that are actually worth seeing!"

Billy shook his head, "I ever hear y'all talkin' about my girl like this again," he chuckled dryly, "might be the last time y'all can even form words. Fuck yourselves," he sneered.

Billy didn't hesitate to storm out of the room, ignoring their jeers and sneers about him being "pussy whipped" and all their complaints about him skipping out on being their ride to "the hottest party of the year." The door slammed behind him, rattling a few windows; making a beeline for his Camaro and pausing at the trunk. He found a pair of your sports shoes you'd eventually need, grabbed them in a white-knuckle grip, then got in the driver's seat and peeled away.

When Billy got to your house, he noticed the lights in your bedroom were barely turned on; knowing you didn't like overhead lighting and probably had a string of lights plugged in. On the contrary, the rest of the house seemed wide awake - every single downstairs light turned on. He grabbed your shoes and his school books (left in his backseat) and got out of his parked car, approach the front door, and paused when a barrage of voices suddenly met his ears. He froze.

The screams were full of hate, and while he couldn't make out distinct words, he heard both your mother and father's elevated voices. It was relentless, it was full of anger and hate and confusion and accusations and Billy wasn't sure how long he stood there with his fist raised. With a deep breath, Billy finally knocked at the door... Then again... Then again... And again, using the metal knocker to bang rapidly. He heard the voices lower and stopped knocking; taking a step back, then waited with his best look of indifferent innocence.

When the door ripped open, Billy was greeted by your angry-looking mother, who didn't look at who was at the door when she snarled, "What the fuck do you want!?"

"Uh, yeah, um, hi, ma'am..." Billy waved awkwardly.

"Oh, Billy," she gasped. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was you, sweetie. What's wrong? What - What time - ? Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt so late, but nothing is wrong," he assured. "I just know your daughter's a little forgetful when there's a test comin' up," he chuckled, holding up the shoes and his books, "and she promised to help me nail this essay for my college portfolio... Did I use that correctly? Portfolio? She's always tryna broaden my vocabulary," he chuckled smoothly.

She smiled warmly, another victim to his charming influence, "Sure, honey, yes, of course, it's Friday or something, right, of course you can come in. C'mon, c'mon in." She stepped out the way to let Billy enter into the foyer. "Baby Girl's just upstairs in her room," she gestured with a wine glass Billy just noticed towards the staircase as she used your childhood nickname. They paused at the grand bannister, her eyes rolling when there came the muffled pounding of a bass-line from some song turned up to the max. "She's always blasting her music now adays, it'll make her deaf," your mother scoffed, taking a long sip, then waved him up. "Go on, get up there, good luck on your essay."

"Thank you, Miss Lady," he purred with a small smirk; nodding as he then watched her retreat to the sitting room, and barely a moment later, your father was exiting the kitchen.

"Billy," he greeted stiffly, glass of scotch in hand.

"Sir," Billy replied with a nod of respect, stepping out of his shoes (per household rules) to leave your parents at the front of the house's sitting room; beginning his ascent to the second level. He'd been there before, so, locating your room was like muscle memory; knocking when he approached the door and pausing when he only heard blaring music.

Another knock, no answer. So Billy opened your door.

You were sat on the ground, back against your bed, record player spinning, and the window you faced cracked open to waft the cigarette smoke out. His heart clenched when he saw you, your sadness nearly tangible as light made your tear-tracks on your cheeks glitter. "Baby," Billy spoke softly, watching you jump in shock. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I tried to knock."

You nodded absently, "Music's on."

"Yeah, 's a good song," he allotted as he shut your door securely and asked, "want it locked?"

"Doesn't lock," you answered robotically, looking back out the window.

"Can I turn the music down, baby, please? Real hard t'hear you."

You nodded and he lowered the volume - but when he did, he understood why you had it so high. Your parents could be heard arguing downstairs, and even with an entire floor between you, it was still loud. So, he turned the music up just a little, frowned, and moved beside you, grunting lightly as his tight jeans constricted while he sat.

"Can I?" He asked, pointing at the cigarette. You handed it over mutely, your usual quip of "it's may I, not can I," nowhere to be heard. After two puffs, he meant to hand it back, but instead, you just fell into his side as if all energy you had to keep you up was depleted; a nearly drowned-out whimper emitting. Billy saw the coffee mug you had been using as an ashtray and dropped the cigarette instantly, using both arms to tug you into his lap.

Billy held you in a fetal position, gently and slowly squeezing you into his chest as he needed to feel you close; and you evidently needed to feel physical love. Billy had to gulp harshly when he felt your tears soak his shirt first, then the jerking of your shoulders; quivering of your body. This long week had finally caught up.

"Baby," he sighed, kissing your forehead. And instead of asking the idiotic and repetitive 'are you okay?', Billy instead just asked in a hush, "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

Through your tears, you answered in a hiccuping-hush, "I didn't want it to be real."

Billy just sighed again, pulling you in tighter so you set under his chin. He let you simply rest, he just wanted to feel close to you... But something caught his eye. About three feet from you was your slumped, turned-over backpack; spewing contents as if it had been tossed aside in a fit of rage. What was interesting, though, was the crumpled pieces of paper; at least one sporting a huge, uppercase F circled in red marker.

"Yeah?" He whispered, sighing as he wanted to bite his tongue but couldn't. "Seems real enough to fuck up your grades though, huh?"

"I can retake the tests."

"You're gonna have to study."

"I know... 'S kinda hard to study here, though. Can't really focus on anything when all that's, you know, going on."

"No shit, Sherlock."

You snorted through your tears, "Don't make me laugh, I'm sad."

He smirked, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Listen, I'll just... We'll go to the library for tonight, and after, we can go to my place. How's that?"

"Thought you weren't allowed overnight visitors?"

"I'm not, but sneakin' inna my place can't be worse than tryna focus while here, right? Gotta be better than listening to this shit."

You nodded against his neck as a distant glass shattered, making you relent, "Touché."

"C'mon," he decided, kissing your forehead again, "pack a bag, baby. You're comin' with me - don't gotta stay here. Not tonight. Gonna come stay with me."

You pulled back just enough to ask, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, pretty girl," he smirked, caressing your cheek. "Might even let you do that green face goop thing you love bothering me about."

"It's an avocado face mask, and when your skin is literally glowing, you can thank me then."

Billy grinned down at you, taking the moment to swoop down and connect your lips in a long kiss; breathing each other in. When a second shatter sounded from downstairs, you flinched away, but Billy was quick to hush, "Hey, hey, hey," and when your eyes met his, he assured, "you're safe with me. Always safe with me." You nodded, tears shining in your eyes. "And you don't ever have to hide these parts of you - not from me. Never from me. I love you, pretty girl," he whispered, "and all parts that make you exactly who you are. Family included."

"I don't deserve you," you whispered.

"Nah, what you don't deserve is dealing with this shit. So, c'mon, get a bag together. We'll come back for what you need later, but get something together for the weekend."

You thanked him with a kiss, and while you got your things together, Billy mutely reached out to examine the pages in his grasp. He sighed, noting the three different failing tests and knew he had to "step up" his "boyfriend game" if he truly wanted to help you; and for the first time, he knew, without any selfish motives, he honestly did. He figured, for all you've done for him, providing you with something akin to a safe environment was a drop in the bucket; shoving those tests back into your school bag, standing, and helping you gather the last of your necessities.

Who needed slutty cheerleaders in soaped-up bikinis when this, right here, was what true love was? Shockingly, not Billy Hargrove.

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove stranger things #stranger things #stranger things billy #billy stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove one shot #dacre montgomery

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gaypirate420 · 9 months ago

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Boyfriend // Jasper W. Hale.

Jasper Whitlock-Hale x male!reader.

A/N: Just wanted to write the Cullen's being a family and Jasper being a ranging homosexual.

Summary: Jasper likes a booooyyyyyy uuuuhhh~

Fluff. Blood drinking (animal).

Esme was in the kitchen, making some food for Bella now that the girl comes for dinner almost everyday. The mother of the household saw a particular blonde coming downstairs with a smile on his face and fingers texting rapidly.

Esme smirked, she was filled with curiousity, Jasper rarely leaves his room and rarely smiles, no, he doesn't smile at all.

"Where are you going, hun?" The woman asked, the blonde stopped on his tracks and his smile has now faded but maintain a polite smirk that seems only reserved for any women that holds authority over him.

"Just goin' for a walk, ma'am." He spoke softly, Emmet from the couch laughed, the mother arched an eyebrow and Jasper narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"He's going to see his boyfriend!" Emmet shouted from the living room, a laugh coming from Edward followed.

"He's not my boyfriend." Jasper rolled his eyes and meet his "mother's" teasing smirk.

"Yet." Alice chimed in with a smile.

"Go ahead, Jasper. Tell Esme who is not your boyfriend." Rosalie spoke after Alice with a playful smirk. Jasper furrowed his eyebrows to his "twin." Should he tell Esme? He doesn't tell her anything anyway.

"Isn't he one of Carlisle's ancient friends?" Edward spoke this time from the couch, Esme tried to guess which one of their friends could be Jasper's type, or at least what she thought it's his type.

"He's not ancient." Jasper spoke with a defensive tone which made the rest of his siblings chuckle.

"He's like a million years old." Emmet said from the living room.

"So who is it then?" Esme spoke politely and took Jasper by his arm but not really touching him. Jasper sighed, he feels embarrassed and angry.

Jasper said your name.

Esme's mouth opened to speak but closed immediately. She knew you, or well, of you. You're not really the extrovert type and the only vampire that hasn't had a problem with you is Carlisle. You're a little too mischievous for the rest of vampires.

"May I go now, ma'am?"

"Yeah his boyfriend gonna be so mad if he arrives late for their date!" Emmet shouted again, making everyone laugh. Jasper thinks about attacking his "brother" to make him shut up, those loud thoughts making Edward feel uneasy now, hitting Emmet with his elbow discreetly to shut him up.

"Do you like him?" She whispered. Jasper nodded, a small smile appearing on his rosy lips.

"Yes, ma'am." The blonde whispers back. Esme nodded and smiled widely.

Jasper is reserved, withdrawn and he seems miserable most of the times, but right now, he looks happy.

"Does he treat you well?" She asks something that is very important for her, the blonde's lips curl into a smile again and his mind reading brother read all of the sweet thoughts he got about you.

"Yes, ma'am."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jasper walked through the forest, the moon was about to rise and the air was cool.

Someone is running near the woods, the leaf crush under the rapid walk.

His golden eyes looked around, trying to find the source of the sound. The trees, he can hear the wood cracking and the leafs falling.

"Look over here, goldilocks!" You shouted.

Jasper smirked and turn around to see you up on a tree. You jumped and landed infront of him.

"Did I scare you, cowboy?" You spoked teasingly as your red eyes meet his golden ones.

"I was trembling with fear, pretty boy." He muttered softly, his texan drawl making you feel all tingly. He couldn't help but to stare down at your lips as they curled into a smile.

"Let's meet at the top of our tree!." You smacked his shoulder softly before zooming out. Jasper chuckled and started to run behind you matching your incredible speed.

You did a spin and take a bunny that passed by. Jasper shaked his head.

"Stop showing off!" The blonde shouted behind you. You laughed.

"You're jealous you're not as cool as I am!" You responded before starting to climb a tree. You could hear Jasper catching up with you before you jumped from one tree to another, feeling the wind hit your face and the comforting smell of plants after a rainy day.

Jasper admired your vampiric beauty as he ran, he felt those strange tingles in his stomach again. He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You climbed and jumped until you stopped at the tree you've designated as yours and Jasper's. You looked down at him as he climbed up to meet you.

"You lost." You teased as you hold the bunny on your arms.

"I let you win." He replied with a smirk. You laughed and sat down on the branch of the tree.

"You lost and loser's don't get juicy bunnies for dinner." You bared your fangs at the small animal, Jasper looked at you and smirked.

"I dare you to do it. I want to see you drink the blood of an animal, pretty boy. Actually drink it." He talked between a chuckle. You furrowed your eyebrows and growl at him playfully before taking the bunny and bury your fangs on the small creature.

You pulled away, he could see you swallowing the blood before your face scrunched into one of pure disgust.

Jasper bursted laughing at you.

You smiled, you've never heard his laugh, it made you feel a strange sensation on your stomach. Or it may be the horrible sip of blood you've just drank.

"May I?" Jasper asked holding his hand out for the bunny.

"It's all yours, blondie. I warn you, that's the worst blood I've drank in four hundred years." You handed the perishing animal to his pale hands.

Jasper bared his fangs, his pupils dilate, hiding his golden eyes behind a pitch black wall. He buried his fangs deep into the animal, the bunny screamed but the cries died down quickly as the vampire drains it's life.

A couple of blood drops fall down his sweater. The blonde pulled away and tossed the dry cadaver of the animal down to the forest.

You couldn't pull your eyes away.

That was hot you have to admit. You cleared your throat.

"Do you actually like feeding from animals?" You asked, you always wondered if animals are as tasty as humans, Jasper thinks for a moment about it, he nods.

"It was hard get used to the taste. But it is better than feeling like I want to kill myself after each feeding." He spoke softly and with full honestly.

You lean over and wipe the blood from his lips with your thumb.

Jasper froze for a second. Your touch was gentle, his shoulders relaxed. It's been decades since he felt something so nice.

Your face was now so close to his, your eyes meet. If there's a word that defines you it's impulsive.

You lean over and lock your lips with his. It was a slow dance, shy at first from both parts.

Jasper pulled away, his golden eyes wide and shiny, he was about to withdrawl but instead came back in full force. Kissing you in a bolder way, his cold hand cupping your jaw.

He depends on the kiss, a delicious moan leaves his lips, a groan from your part following after, he's tasting you, touching you and drowning in your scent. He has never felt this way and he couldn't control his urges.

Your back meets the huge tree. Jasper it's almost on top of you now.

The blonde pulls away once more, to take a useless breath. You feel dizzy with happiness because the southerner felt himself radiant with joy.

The two stay silent. Eyes lingering into each other for a couple of seconds before Jasper's lips touch yours a third time. This time it's more gentle and loving.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time...ever since I met you, you light up my world, darlin'." He whispers, you can only look at him, you've never had anyone be this soft and caring with you.

You want to speak, to say you've felt the same way, that he became very special to you, that he made you feel worthy and loved.

But he could feel it too. He knew.

His lips leave a soft kiss on your forehead before he rests his head on your shoulder. You smile and wrap your arms around him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Heyyyy, sorry I've been away. I'm really focused on school and that's why I haven't written shit. This was on my drafts so here it is. You can still send requests or asks just know I'm going to take a little of time in answering. Hope you liked it!

#jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock #jasper cullen #jasper hale #jasper hale x male reader #x male reader #twilight x male reader

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loveharlow · 4 months ago

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SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 005 (PART 2)

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ [8.5k] A newfound diary, an emotional blast from the past, and a chaotic bonfire.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, fist fight/mild violence, jarah drama, sexual innuendoes,

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

for the house scene^

for the bonfire scene^

A/N‧₊˚ i'm sooo hyped, ik this song strays from the theme a bit but i really wanted a sexy lil tune for the bonfire scene AND this chapter has TWO SONGS because it's two diff vibes at once

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“JJ, GET UP.” You groaned for the last time, shoving your sock-clad feet into your shoes, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

“Mmmm…I am up.” He whined into the pillow, very much still sleep. You scoffed, walking over and snatching the blanket off of the blonde — a wave of cool air hitting his shirtless body. He whined, flipping over onto his back as his eyes blinked open. “Why would you do that?”

“Because, for one, it’s eight fifty-five. School starts at nine and we have a fifteen minute drive to get there. And, two, John B and Pope already left without us because they didn’t want to wait for you which means I am now responsible for driving you, which makes us both late.” You explained, tossing the boy one of his shirts and a pair of socks.

“Mmph…fine.” He grumbled, sitting up and slipping the item over his head as he yawned. You kicked his shoes towards him as he slipped on his socks, walking out of the bedroom to find Marley on the couch. The dog perked up as her two favorite people exited the guest room.

“Hi, girl.” You cooed, crouching down as the animal threw herself off the couch and into your arms. “How you feelin’?” You asked, scratching behind her ears before looking up to find Kie in the kitchen, lingering silently. She paced, fiddling with her fingers while struggling to hesitantly meet your eyes.

“Hey.” She said simply, eyes on you and JJ. You both sent the girl half-smiles, lips pulled into thin, tight lines. “I thought everyone had left, I didn't know you two were...I, um, I fed her so, you shouldn’t have to worry about that.” She told you, shoving her hands in her back pockets nervously. “How are you? Or is that a…bad question to ask?”

You just shrugged one shoulder, swallowing awkwardly. “A lot better. Thanks for asking…” You replied genuinely. The room was filled with such a strong tension. By this point, everyone knew about the kiss between JJ and Kie. And everyone knew that everyone knew. The three of you stood around avoiding each other’s gazes, the only sound being the birds outside and Marley’s heavy panting. It didn’t feel right to be so hostile with Kie after everything that happened yesterday. And plus, you guessed you never got her side of everything. But even if the tension was no longer volatile, it was still awkward and suffocating.

“Well, we should get goin’...” JJ piped up.

“Yeah, yeah, totally.” Kiara waved off, tucking her hair behind her ear and grabbing her tote bag from the dining chair. “I’ll...see you guys later.”

“You aren’t going to school?” You asked, Kiara stopping with her hand on the door.

“No, I have some stuff to do. But I’ll catch up later.” She said, holding her hand up as a goodbye. “See ya.”

You both watched as she left — hearing her sneakers crunch oddly fast through the gravel before the sound faded out. You looked to JJ as his voice rang out. “Is it my place to say that you two need to talk it out?”

You grimaced before walking forward, out of the front door and towards your parked car as JJ followed. “I don’t know…” You dragged on, opening the driver’s side door as JJ got into the passenger seat. “It’s weird now. We’re together and she likes you…”

“Eh, I don’t think so.” JJ shrugged as you started the car, shooting him a confused look as you pulled out.

“What do you mean?” You asked. “She kissed you.”

“I mean, yeah, but it was like she didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to say anything last night because it didn’t feel right to bring it up.” He said, looking at you as you drove, admiring the way the morning sun illuminated your eyelashes. “She came to me last night in the Surf Shack and apologized, said she had her feelings mixed up. I guess she meant between me and Pope, maybe? I don’t know. But she made it clear that she doesn’t like me like that, at the very least. But apparently, she also broke things off with Pope so, I’m confused on what she meant. Either way, maybe you’re the person she needs to talk to.” He suggested cooly. “Just sayin’.”

“Hm.” You hummed in thought, eyes trained on the road as your eyebrows pinched. Maybe JJ had a point. But when Kie was ready to talk, she would.

YOU AND JJ ENTERED THE CLASSROOM JUST AS THE LATE BELL RANG, the teacher shooting you both a look of warning and motioning for you to take your seats. JJ sat in front of John B and you sat behind Pope — the four of you forming a perfect square. JJ shot the two boys looks of annoyance, the both of them holding up their hands in surrender.

You watched as Mrs.Ortiz, the geometry teacher, began passing out papers. Kids around you sighed and groaned, causing you and JJ to share a confused look. It wasn’t long before the teacher made her way to you all, setting a paper on John B’s desk. “Nice of you to join us.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“Good to be back.” He smiled back at her, the expression quickly fading when he read the paper in front of him. His eyes went wide just as the woman placed a paper on your own desk — two pieces of paper stapled together, the first page of equations already giving you a migraine.

“A test?” John B asked Pope, appalled. The boy turned in his seat, pointing an accusatory finger at John B.

“I told you we had a test.” He reprimanded under his breath.

“No, you didn’t.”

“The first thing I said to you-”

“Was to wake up.”

“Because we had a test.”

“A test was never mentioned-”

“Psst. John B.” A random girl interrupted. John B turned to her curiously, quirking a brow as she passed him a piece of paper, the three of you looking weirdly at one another as he unfolded the note.

Bonfire C U There?

John B eyed the note with an unreadable expression, the three of you turning away from him slowly once Mrs.Ortiz began talking. “You all will have until the end of this period to turn in the quiz. No phones, no notes, and no calculators. Once you are done, you may-” She was cut off when the landline on her desk rang. “Excuse me a moment.” She dismissed herself, picking up the phone before exchanging a few words and hanging up, peering over the classroom full of students before her eyes landed on you. “Ms.Carter.” She called, your eyebrows raising in question.

“Yes?”

“They need you in the main office.” She said, looking sad and pitiful. She looked sorry for you. You didn’t know why.

Your face twisted in confusion as you looked at your three friends and got up, not even taking a full step forward before she spoke again. “You may want to take your things with you.” She grimaced, clasping her hands together. “And no need to worry about the quiz. I’ll exempt you for today.”

Her mercy had you questioning what exactly they needed you in the main office for…

Scooping up your backpack, you shot JJ a look before walking out of the classroom.

WALKING INTO THE MAIN OFFICE, you spotted a familiar face.

“Shoupe?” You asked, face twisting as the man turned to you — a nervous look plastered on his face as his hands clutched his utility belt. There was no one else in the office aside from the secretary and a teacher or two printing papers — the sounds of typing and phones ringing filling the atmosphere.

“What’s going on?” You asked the officer, eyes darting around the room as you hiked your bag up higher on your shoulder, subconsciously holding it tighter against you. The older man took in his surroundings, taking note of the peering eyes of the secretary. He motioned towards the door you had just walked through before speaking.

“Let’s talk outside…”

You unknowingly clenched your jaw, nodding and following the man out the door. He waited for it to close, looking up and down the empty school halls before speaking. “I don’t mean to pop up on you like this. I’m just…tryna make this whole thing a little easier on ya.” He claimed, licking his lips before continuing. “I don’t know if you or your friends watch the news but…we have your mom in custody.”

You nodded, drawing your lips into a thin line but allowing the man to continue talking. “She had her bail hearin’ this mornin’. Since she attempted to flee from police upon arrest, the judge didn't grant her bail so, she won’t be out any time soon. Just wanted to let you know that.” He explained, his eyes full of pity and regret. "...She's been askin' to see you."

You couldn't control your facial contorting out of disgust. Or anger, you didn't know. "No." You said bluntly and firmly. "I don't want to see her."

Shoupe just nodded, raising his eyebrows briefly. "Yeah...I figured as much." He informed. "No one's forcin' you, kid. Just relayin' the message." He said. “...Also, the department will be closing off your house as a crime scene early tomorrow mornin’. I’m not supposed to be doing this but…if ya have anythin’ that you’d like to take with you — clothes, jewelry — I’d suggest you gon’ and get it today before it ends up in an evidence locker.”

“...Thank you, Shoupe.” You expressed your gratitude, surprised at his change of heart. Maybe he felt bad for everything — knowing now just how much could've been avoided had he just listened to you and your friends to begin with.

“...’s the least I could do.” He mumbled, looking down at his shoes for a brief moment. “But there is one more thing, kid.”

“What is it?” You asked, a moment of silence passing as a janitor walked by whistling with his earbuds in — the pair of you allowing him to pass anyway before continuing the conversation.

“...Since you are still a minor and have no current legal guardian that's not...imprisoned or deceased, you are now considered a Ward of the State. And unless you find someone to claim legal guardianship over you, there’s nothin’ I can do to stop DCS from payin’ you a visit.”

“Oh.” You said simply, lips stuck in a pursed position. You didn't think about that part...

“Yeah…” The man sighed.

“...Should I warn John B, too? Since Ward was his legal guardian?”

“No, no, that’s not necessary.” Shoupe dismissed, waving you off. “With Ward’s…passing, guardianship had been transferred to Rose as she was Ward’s spouse. But we both know that Routledge has been on his own for a long time.”

“So…what should I do?” You asked.

“That’s up to you, kid.” Shoupe shrugged helplessly. “Just find someone to take ya in. And soon.”

“HEY! WAIT UP!” YOU CALLED OUT AS YOU SPOTTED YOUR THREE MALE FRIENDS OUTSIDE IN THE COURTYARD. First period had ended by the time you’d gotten done talking with Shoupe, kids gathered outside before the bell rang for second.

You caught up to your friends in seconds, Pope and JJ separating to make space for you to walk with them.

“Glad to see you’re back.” John B threw out. “What’d you do? Steal test answers?”

“You’re hilarious but I don’t cheat.” You sassed, squinting at him. “I can do a simple math problem, I know that’s a foreign thing to you-”

“I was just askin’ because us three who didn’t receive a ‘get out of geometry free pass’ were kind of dying in there.”

“Speak for yourself.” Pope threw out, smiling smugly. “Finished that quiz in ten minutes. That’s gotta be a world record.”

“Yeah,” JJ added sarcastically. “For geeks, maybe.”

Popee flipped off the blonde as you and John B laughed, walking up the concrete steps. “But seriously, what’d they need you for?” JJ asked, looking down at you and throwing an arm over your shoulder.

You didn't miss the way John B and Pope shot each other smirks and low high-fived.

You sighed but smiled smally at the contact and slight PDA. “Long story short — my mom was denied bail so she's in jail for good, they’re taping my house off as a crime scene tomorrow and I have until tonight to get my stuff, and I am now a state-certified orphan and will be snatched up by DCS soon unless someone comes to claim me.”

“Sounds like someone needs a Routledge-level crash course in ‘Dodging DCS 101’.” John B smiled, holding the straps of his backpack.

“Or I just need someone to sign some papers and say they’re willing to take care of me.” Suddenly, all eyes glued themselves to Pope, the boy immediately shaking his head.

“Nuh-uh.” He declined. “You know I would if I could and my parents would love to help you. But that’s a lot of paperwork and they need other things, like proof of income showing that they can support another child. And Heyward’s has been a little slow since the whole boat thing with Topper…”

You all hummed in agreement, understanding his point. “Don’t sweat it, Pope.” You assured, nudging his shoulder. “I’ll figure it out. Hey," You switched your attention to JJ, voice lowering as the other two guys now held their own conversation. "I'm probably gonna leave school a bit early to go my house. Just so I have enough time."

"You want me to come with?" The blonde asked.

"If you don't mind..." You said, nervously — not wanting to be a burden. "You don't have to. I just don't think going alone-"

"I want to." He reassured, pecking your cheek.

“Ahh....” A chipper voice chimed in, the four of you facing forward to find Mr.Sunn standing against the school exit door that was wide open. “Mr.Routledge, Mr.Maybank, Mr.Heyward, and Ms.Carter — just the students I wanted to see.” He smiled, guiding you each one by one into the school building.

“Wish I could say the same.” JJ replied as Mr.Sunn walked in behind you four — guiding you to his classroom and ignoring your boyfriend’s sassiness.

“I have a question of historical nature for you…” The teacher explained, walking into a storage closet within his classroom. “I digitize documents for the Maritime Museum, and in return, I have been given access to the archives.” He went on, searching up and down the shelves before pulling out a box. “And I found…this.”

“A box.” Pope deadpanned.

“More than a box.” Mr.Sunn smiled, placing the container down on his desk, the four of you crowding around as he opened it, revealing what looked like a worn, brown journal wrapped in plastic. “Go ahead, Mr. Heyward.” The instructor encouraged as Pope picked up the item. “Careful with that.”

You all watched as Pope unwrapped the item from its packaging, fiddling with the fabric knot that held the book closed.

“It’s a diary.” Mr. Sunn explained. “The author’s unknown.” You all watched as Pope undid the knot, pages and pages of writing revealing themselves. It was written in cursive, some pages partially or completely torn out. But you felt the tension in the room rise when Pope let the pages fall to the very first one — a wheat symbol sketched onto it.

The four of you shot each other looks as Mr.Sunn placed a paper on the desk. “This…is a sample of the Denmark Tanny letter.” He smirked, looking up at the group of you. “Compare the handwriting.” John B was quick to pick up the paper, holding it up next to Pope’s hand that held the diary open.

Peering over the two boys shoulders, you could see the two artifacts side by side — the handwriting was distinct. But the similarity was undeniable. It was obvious that the two documents were written by the same person, down to the curves and flicks of the pen.

“No way…”

“It’s nearly identical.”

“...This is Denmark Tanny’s diary.” Pope said in a hushed tone, eyes never leaving the papers. His fingers trailed the worn pages of the journal, flipping the page to find a drawing — a captain standing by as the figures in the background pushed ships into the water, a larger ship looming in the back. “Guys, this is Captain Limbrey.” Pope pointed out, tip of his index finger on the man with the hat atop his head, standing proudly. “...August sixth, eighteen twenty-nine.” He read aloud, sitting down on the nearest desk top.

“That’s the year the Royal Merchant went down.” John B informed, eyebrows downturned in pity.

“I thought you all might find it interesting.” The teacher spoke up.

“Thank you so much for this.” Pope whispered, still looking through the journal.

Mr.Sunn sat on the desk beside your friend, leaning in to speak. “It’s important to know your own history.” He told him, you all looking at him with wide eyes before he got up and walked to the back of the classroom once more, leaving the four of you to your thoughts.

“...Oh my God.” Pope sighed, his eyebrows pinching together. “This is the Cross of Santo Domingo.” He said, the three of you sharing a look and walking over, crowding around behind him. It was a picture of some of the crew members carrying a large cross. “It was on The Royal Merchant.”

THE ENGINE OF YOUR FORD BRONCO DIED AS YOU TURNED THE VEHICLE OFF, looking up at the house you hadn't seen in over a month. To anyone else, it probably looked like a nice, normal home.

To you it looked haunted, forever shrouded in a cloud of darkness and gloom that would never go away.

"You want me to come in?" JJ asked, you only just now noticing him looking at you. You lowered your gaze to him, nodding as a response. He gave you a small smile before exiting the passenger seat and rounding the vehicle as you unbuckled your seatbelt to open your door and offer you a hand out of the car.

He shut your door after you climbed out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze as you walked the path up to the front door. To your surprise, it was already cracked ajar, only having to give the wood a push for it to creak open.

The lights were off, the only light coming from the open windows. The wood screeched beneath you and JJ's feet as you walked further inside, the blonde allowing your hand to slip slowly from his own as your eyes scanned everything.

You spotted a suitcase at the bottom of the steps — laid out in the floor, flipped open. Clothes, shoes, and stray dollar bills scattered around the abandoned trunk.

Was that what Shoupe meant when he said she attempted to run?

It looked like the caught her before she even made it out of the front door...

It was as if the place had been raided. The coffee table in the living room was lopsided and off center, the couch cushions looked like they'd been thrown back into place.

The patio door was open, and the kitchen told a different story —alcohol bottles scattered on the counter like centerpieces. The smell of liquor even lingered mildly in the air.

You didn't say a word as you edged towards the staircase, stepping over the fallen luggage and making your way up the stairs. Photo frames decorating the companionway upon the walls swung, hanging from a single screw.

You'd seen how many officers came the day Ward died. Just how many ran through your house? Or what remained of it...

Reaching the top of the stairs, even more clothes littered the floor. There was even a sizeable hole in the wall...

You took a deep breath, shaking off your nerves before walking further down the hall and pushing open the door to your room.

Surprisingly, it looked untouched —almost exactly how you remember leaving it.

Your bed was unmade, the blinds were open, even your midsummer's dress was still hung on the back of your closet door. Remembering that night put a smile on your face.

Everything was messed up...but not this messed up. John B didn't know that his girlfriend's dad had killed his and yours. Pope didn't have any personal connection to the gold that made him a target. Kiara was still living with her parents and you were still friends. You and JJ had just gotten out of jail and seen each other for the first time all day.

Looking back, maybe your friends were right. How could you not see it all this time? Remembering the way he froze seeing you in your dress, you paid no mind to it then. But now, it was like reliving the moment in your mind. He looked in awe. He looked in love. He looked like he had never seen you a day in his life. And when he smiled at you...

You would never forget that night.

Walking over to the item, your fingers brushed against the smooth material — a small, sad smile spreading across your cheeks.

"You should take it." JJ startled you, turning around to see him in the doorframe. You hadn't heard him come up the stairs.

"I don't have any use for it, now." You said mournfully. "It's not like I'll be going to another one..." You reflected, opening your closet all the way and grabbing the biggest duffel bag you owned, pulling tops and jackets off the hangers and throwing them in.

In your peripheral, you could see your boyfriend remove the dress from it's hanger — folding it and placing it in the duffel bag. "That may be true but you'll need a dress for all the five-star restaurants we visit when we go full Kook." He joked lightly, winking at you, the action putting a loving smile on your face. "Here, let me help." He offered, stepping next to you and grabbing your bottoms and shoes, putting them in the duffel bag as well.

To your surprise, the bag fit almost everything you planned on taking. You'd probably need another backpack but the closet was almost entirely empty when you spotted a box in the corner. You scrunched your eyebrows, crouching and reaching for the cardboard box in the corner, dragging it out.

There was something written in sharpie on the side — Dad's Stuff.

Your hand hovered over the box, forgetting you had it back there all this time. You didn't even remember what was inside. Looking up at JJ who was already staring down at you, the blonde gave you a silent supportive nod, encouraging you to open it.

Turning back, you carefully opened the top flaps — your eyes immediately spotting your dad's tattered and worn 'OBX' hoodie that you'd taken from his closet after he died. You wore it for weeks after his death — so much so that your perfume still lingered on it, mixed in with fading smell of his cologne that you somehow still remembered the distinct smell of.

You carefully lifted the item of clothing, brushing your thumbs against the rough fabric. The letters were fading and there were small lint-beads around the sleeves but that didn't diminish it's value. You handed the object to JJ, silently asking him to put it in the bag. The boy understood quickly, taking the hoodie from your hands as you fished around deeper in the box.

There wasn't much. What took up the most space was the hoodie considering it's thickness. All that remained was a scrapbook and an old family camera.

You picked up the book first — it was a father's day gift that you'd made him some years ago. 'To The BEST Dad in The World' scribbled in your third grade handwriting on the front. The book was thin, made from construction paper and glitter.

Flipping it open, it was filled with pictures of you and your dad — on several of your birthday's, pictures of you both blowing out the candles because you refused to do it without him. One of his guitar picks was glued to a page, surrounded by a heart of glitter with a small sentence at the bottom — 'I stole this from you because it's my favorite and I don't want to lose it.'

You let the pads of your fingers trace the pages, eyes scanning over the small art project once more before closing it and setting it to the side with one hand, using the other to pick up the camera.

You fiddled with the object in your palms, eyes widening when, to your surprise, it came on as you held the power button. You vividly remembering your dad taking the camera almost everywhere you went — on family picnics, small road trips, birthday parties. He didn't use it as much when you got older.

You pressed the playback button, the last video he ever recorded popping up with the play button. You didn't hesitate, pressing play on the video as the terrible audio quality filled the silence of your room.

"Well, it's doomsday, people. Y/N has her very first pimple." His voice made your heart skip a beat. You hadn't realized until now that you hadn't heard it almost year.

"Dad, stop!" A fourteen-year old you whined, palming the lens of the camera. "It's ugly and huge..."

"You should let your old man pop it-"

"Ew, gross! No way..." You chuckled. Your voice was so much higher, you didn't even recognize it. "And please, stop recording. This is not funny."

"Okay, okay…" he said, turning the camera around to face himself. "Well, bossy pants says no more recording, so we're cutting it short today." He faked a frown before smiling mischievously and turning the camera back around to you for a quick second. You were hunched over the sink looking in the mirror when you saw the camera and ducked out of the way.

"Dad!" You whined. "Seriously!"

"Okay! Okay..." He laughed, the video ending abruptly. You immediately pressed the back arrow, skimming through photo after photo before coming across another video — a much older one.

"Alright, I think it's on. So, to whoever is watching this, my baby girl just learned her first guitar chord and beat her own record, all in one day. Tell them how deep you dove today, sweetheart." He prompted, spinning the camera to what looked like a ten-year old you sitting on your front porch — hair still slightly damp and wild.

"Thirty feet!" You cheered, voice even higher in this recording. You had his guitar in your lap.

"That's right!" Your father applauded from behind the camera, walking around to stand in front of you and get a good view. "She's a little natural. But now we're on to our lessons before she leaves me for her friends. Tell the people what chords you learned."

Your small frame was perched on the front steps, sun beaming on you. "E-minor, A-minor, and...uh...E."

"Good job!" He smiled, voice dropping to a whisper only the camera could hear. "She picked out the chords herself, I had no say." The statement made you laugh a bit, wiping away a stray tear as you continued to watch the video. "Whenever you're ready, sweetheart."

You watched as little you positioned the instrument under your arms and your fingers in between the frets before strumming. It was gappy and you hesitated in between switching chords but the video made you smile nonetheless.

Once you were done, you looked up at the camera with a smile. "How was that?"

"That was beautiful, angel." Your dad said softly behind the device, walking closer to you and turning it around so it now recorded the both of you. "This is me and my little pufferfish-slash-popstar and we're signing off. Wave goodbye, Y/N."

"Byeee!" You cheesed and waved wildly, your dad doing this same as the video cut — stuck on the last frame showcasing both of your bright smiles.

You stared at it, silently crying. You let your tears fall, sniffing periodically when you felt a hand ease it's way onto your back. Turning swiftly and dropping the camera into your duffel bag, you turned and pushed your face into JJ's chest, wrapping your arms around his torso tightly.

You could feel his body tense and his hands freeze — he didn't know what to say or how to properly comfort you. Or if was he meant to comfort you as a friend or a lover.

He pondered for a moment before returning the tight embrace, kissing the top of your head before laying his on top of your own. He swayed lightly with you in his arms, allowing you to cry quietly into his shirt.

"Why did all of this have to happen?" You mumbled into his shirt. "Why are our lives the ones that had to fall apart?"

The blonde didn't have an answer for you, so he just chose to hold you instead — comforting you until you were ready and didn't need the need the comfort anymore.

He wasn't sure if he was meant to comfort you as a friend or as a lover — so he settled on comforting you as a person.

And he held you as long as you needed until you were all cried out, the two of you taking your bags of clothes, the scrapbook, the camera, the hoodie, and most importantly — your dad's guitar out of the house you hoped to never see again.

“GUYS, THIS IS FROM DENMARK’S DIARY.” Pope said. You were back at The Chateau, feeling a lot better now, and he hadn’t put the book down since he got it. You were surprised he hadn’t finished it by now. You’d seen the boy finish larger books in a matter of hours. “...‘August fifteenth, set sail from Port-au-Prince on calm seas.’” He read aloud, the sun beaming behind him. “...’Came up on the Spanish ship San Jose on fire. The entire deck was aflame. We could hear the screams of men trapped below.’” You cringed at the words, not being able to imagine the agony.

“‘The Spanish Captain cared about only one thing, his valuable cargo — The Cross of Santo Domingo and countless bars of gold. Once the cargo was on board, went to help the crew, but Captain Limbrey ordered us to pull bayonets and not to let any of the Spanish crew on board.” He paused, eyes softening before continuing to read. “...’He robbed them and left them to die.’”

Pope concluded, closing the journal and letting it fall on the table before taking a seat in the empty chair next to John B.

“So, it didn’t go down off Bermuda.” JJ offered, fiddling with a lighter as he laid outstretched between your legs, his head against your thighs as you laid against the arm of the patio sofa.

“And it was a Limbrey stealing shit again.” Kiara added.

“This diary proves that both the gold and the cross of Santo Domingo were on the Royal Merchant.” Pope put together, leaning his arms on his thighs.

“Why didn’t we find the cross in the well, then?” JJ asked, his blonde hair getting blown into his face by the wind, you brushing it gently out of his vision as he continued explaining his thought process. “I mean, if Denmark was able to get this, like, bedazzled cross off of the Merchant to the shore, why didn’t he just hide it with the gold?”

“...Because it was too big.” John B realized.

“You’re right.” Pope nodded, eyeing his two friends and nodding as his brained pieced the puzzle together. “He had to hide it someplace else…”

“But where?” You thought aloud.

“...Right before he was hung, Denmark said he buried the treasure at the foot of the angel.” Pope said.

“Wait,” JJ paused. “I thought this was about the key?” He pondered. “What’s the connection here?”

Pope sighed, pulling the aforementioned key from his pocket — the one he found in his grandma’s parlor. “The path to the tomb begins in the island room…” He said, reading the secret message revealed by the key, trying to mentally search for clues.

“But what is the island room?” Kiara groaned, throwing her head back.

“Y’know what helps me figure shit out?” JJ threw out, tossing the lighter onto the outdoor table, eyes focused on Pope. “Smokin’ beers and drinkin’ weed.” He said proudly, your face twisting in confusion. “The ideas just start to pour out of me. If we just sit here and try to figure this out, we’re gonna get nowhere.” He said seriously, sitting up to look at his friends more directly. “But if we get creative and go to this bonfire tonight? Maybe we get somewhere.”

“I think you just want an excuse to go to a bonfire.” You added, a smug look on your face as he turned to look at you, his hair messed up from laying in your lap.

“Shh…” He quieted with a finger to your lips, your eyes fleeting between the digit and his eyes. “You just haven’t mastered the technique to greatness yet. This is a plan of master intelligence. Drunk minds lead to sober finds, baby.”

You scoffed, lightly brushing his fingers from your lips as Kie spoke.

“Well, I just got disowned by my parents…and I’m an official member of the I-have-nothing-to-lose club.” She smiled, throwing her hands out.

“Pope?” JJ turned to the boy, a question on his lips. You all could see the denial brewing in his eyes, JJ catching it before any words left Pope’s lips. “Look — think about how much you could think if you just gave your brain a rest.”

He seemed to sit on the thought, looking at each of you individually before caving in. “...Okay, fine.”

“That’s a yes, folks. We’re headed out!” JJ exclaimed, jumping up from his place as the other three did the same, heading towards the van. You were getting up on your own before the blonde’s hand went under your arms, lifting you into his embrace. Your arms wound around his neck as he carried you happily. “First couple bonfire, baby!” He smiled, looking into your eyes. “You gotta do keg stand with me.”

THE BONFIRE — AN OUTER BANKS TRADITION. It’s the same weekend every year. Everyone goes. Literally everyone. After finding a fortune, and losing it, a little fun around a fire couldn’t hurt, right?

The party was in full swing by the time you’d all arrived, the entire party recognizing your small group by the sight of The Twinkie. JJ helped you out of the van, your ears immediately attacked by the loud cheering, endless chatter, and raging music.

The only real light was the huge bonfire in the center of the party — the flames lit in a small pit of the abandoned skatepark that happened to be this years secret location. Kiara and Pope went off on their own almost as soon as they left the van — the two getting into a small dispute on the way over. Pope believed that if Kie listened to her parents instead of arguing, she could go back home. Kiara disagreed and told Pope that he sounded like her dad.

You, JJ, and John B were already grabbing beers from a cooler — the two boys swallowing theirs down within seconds. John B did his own complaining on the way over — not a single sentence spoken without the mention of Sarah Cameron.

“And she was like ‘that’s it’. She done with me.” He whined, even after downing a beer.

“I know, but dude? Her father blew up in front of her.” JJ reminded, clapping a hand on the boys shoulder.

“J’s right, John B.” You said, sipping your own beer as you looked around at the party goers. “ Just give her a minute-” You were cut off when a beer can clattered at all three of your feet, looking up to find the girl who’d passed John B that note in class with a lazy smile on her face.

“Hey, derelicts!” She shouted, giggling drunkenly.

“Hey!” JJ exclaimed, kicking the beer droplets from his shoes. “There she is…” He mumbled, side-eyeing JB. “That’s all you, my friend.” He said, throwing an arm over your shoulder and walking away from John B. “I’m outta here.” He said, throwing a peace sign over his shoulder.

The two of you walked away with bright smiles on your faces, laughing.

“Was I good wingman back there? One through ten...” JJ asked, a light smile on his face.

“Eh. I’ll give you an eight.” You shrugged lightheartedly.

“An eight?” He asked, his arm slipping from your shoulder to hold your hand as he turned to talk to you, face to face. “Where’d my other two points go?”

“You lost them because for one, that’s the same girl he made out with last year and never texted back because he said she was trashy and desperate. But neither of you remember that.” You reprimanded jokingly. “And two, I do feel kind of bad. Sarah’s probably somewhere crying and John B’s out here flirting with some girl…”

JJ groaned, stepping closer to you. “Trust me — Sarah is not moping around. I’ll bet you a million dollars that she’s with her knight in shining armor right now.”

“JJ, that’s not fair-”

“But it’s the truth. I know you two are sort of friends again but you can’t seriously tell me that you don’t think she ran to Topper.” You chewed the inside of you cheek, squinting your eyes.

“...I say have some faith in her.” You challenged, shifting your weight and crossing your arms, a mischievous smile on your face.

JJ chuckled, downing the remaining portion of his beer before taking your face in his hand gently, rubbing a thumb over your cheek as he looked down at you — the fire illuminating the side of your face beautifully. “You’re cute.” He cooed. “Twenty bucks says Sarah ran back to Topper and they’ll show up tonight.”

“And if I’m right?” You contested, cocking an eyebrow. “If they don't?” You asked, eyes on the blonde’s lips.

“Well, that’s up to you.” He said, fighting a smile as his eyes bored into yours. “What do you want?...” He asked, voice just above a whisper.

Your tongue traced the inside of your mouth as your eyes scanned his face. The two of you had been dating for less than twenty-four hours and the tension was already suffocating. And you were in public, for that matter. But for some reason, that fact didn’t affect you all that much.

“Yo, Maybank!” A deep, brassy voice rang out — JJ turning around as you peered over his shoulder to find one of the football players with his hands up. “Beer pong?” He offered, holding a ping pong ball between his fingers.

JJ turned back to you, a raised eyebrow. You just shrugged as the boy took your hand, walking you over. “Yeah, me and my girl are playin’!”

“AND THAT’S THREE TO ZEROOO!” JJ TAUNTED AS HIS PING PONG BALL LANDED IN THE OTHER TEAMS LAST CUP, beer sloshing as the round object hit the liquid. The people surrounding you cheered as the other team, the football player and his girlfriend, groaned and downed the cup of beer.

You’d been playing for at least half an hour, you and JJ consuming more beer than a dad of three on a football Sunday. JJ was no lightweight. You, on the other hand, have never been too good at controlling yourself after your third or fourth drink. There were different types of drunks — the loud one, the whiny one, the vomiter...

You were the touchy drunk. The flirtatious drunk. And the countless cups of beer were just starting to kick in — your body feeling warm and tingly as the night went on.

A chill traveled up the length of your spine when JJ pulled you into a celebratory hug, lifting you off your feet and planting a quick kiss on your lips. It was such an odd thing — all these feelings you had for him just seemed to amplify.

You did mean it when you said you saw him as a friend. Most of the time. Before you were together or expressed feeling for each other, you had moments here and there where you saw JJ from a not-so friendly perspective. You may have a had a little crush on him but who didn’t? He was hot.

So, yeah, maybe you’d stare a little longer than appropriate when he’d take his shirt off at the beach and maybe, just maybe, him calling you princess would make your heart beat a little faster and maybe that’s why you would tell him stop.

But now, you were his girlfriend. And he was your boyfriend. And even a day into dating, he had no problem showing it. His hands never hesitated when he wanted them on you and if your lips were there, trust and believe he’d kiss them. He’d take the time to help you out of and into the van and he seemed to love throwing his arm around your shoulder.

The little touches and looks ignited a new fire in you and with the liquor running through you, the small flame inside was more like a wildfire. Ever since everything that happened with Rafe, you hadn’t really felt comfortable when it came to intimacy. But something about JJ made it feel like you weren’t treading in such deep water without knowing how to swim. You felt safe.

“Alright, we’re done. Go find someone else to kick your ass.” JJ joked as he set you down, taking a few steps to give his friend a bro-hug, clapping each other on the shoulder. JJ held out his hand when he turned back to you. You eagerly put your hand in his, the two of you walking away and towards the center of the pit where people were sitting and dancing around the fire.

The blonde sat down and motioned for you to do the same, his hand never unlinking from yours until you were completely sat and comfortable. “...You done already?” You asked, watching as JJ perked up at the sound of your voice.

“What do you mean?” He asked, eyebrows cinching curiously.

“This is your, like, natural habitat.” You laughed, motioning to the party around you. “Normally, you go from shotgunning beers to the keg stand within fifteen minutes.”

He laughed lightly at your observation, his head dipping down for a moment. “Yeah, I guess…”

“Soooo?...” You questioned, a tipsy smile on your face.

“...I don’t know.” He sighed, looking at you. The bonfire illuminated his hair, making it look borderline golden. “I don’t wanna tire you out. I know you’re still recovering from...you know-”

“Pfft-” You cut him off. “Don’t worry about meee…” You groaned, shaking the boys shoulders. “I’m fine. I don’t even know what Barry gave me-”

“Yeah, I know.” JJ said seriously. “That’s the problem. I probably shouldn’t have even let you down that many beers…”

��JJ.” You deadpanned, a semi-drunken pout on your lips. “I’m fine.”

“...No one is really fine after something like that.” He said sadly, looking you in the eyes.

In truth, he was right. The events of yesterday had been playing in your mind since you woke up. Little flashes, here and there. It made it so hard to sleep — and you prayed you wouldn’t have a repeat of last summer all over again. You may not remember every single event but you couldn’t seem to forget how the entire ordeal made you feel. Helpless, disgusting…alone. But you figured, you got through it all once, right? What was one more time?

You didn’t want to bring down the mood and it was clear that’s where this was headed. So when your ears cued in on the song playing over the speakers, a bright smile planted itself on your face as you stood up, holding a hand out for JJ that he took without hesitation. But not without question.

“What’re you doin’?” He asked, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

“Dance with me.”

“Ah, I don’t think this is really a slow dancing song, princess.” He protested, a sheepish smile on his face. “And I don’t know how to do that, anyway.”

“Who said anything about slow dancing?” You asked as if he asked a ridiculous question. “We’re at a bonfire, not a debutante ball.” You joked.

“A what?”

“Oh my God.” You sighed with a smile. “Just dance with me, you loser.” You urged, spinning in his arms so that you were facing away from him and pressing yourself against him, putting both of his hands on your waist as you swayed against him.

“Oh-” JJ said, your quick movements catching him off guard before he seemed to find himself. “This kind of dancing.” He said — his fingers pressing into the exposed skin of your waist as he matched your movements. Your own hands trailed up his arms — one steady feeling up his bicep as the other traveled up to the nape of his neck.

Normally, you’d be a little nervous in a situation like this. But with the alcohol, the fact that most of the people around were too drunk to notice, and the consideration of the other ten couples that were nearly tongue-fucking one another scattered around the skate park — a little grinding was the least of anyone’s concerns.

You were surprised when you felt the skin of JJ’s lips brush against the skin of your neck, the hairs standing up at the contact. You could faintly hear him humming the lyrics of the song — the combination of his featherlight touch and the sound of his voice making one dangerous duo.

You didn’t realize you were subconsciously pushing yourself further into him until you felt the familiar feeling of something pressing into your backside, the same feeling you felt in Charleston. You were starting to take it as a compliment. And he didn't seem as apologetic this time around.

At the feeling of him pressed against you, you craned your neck to look at him when the boy wasted no time in encapsulating your lips with his — a sloppy, passionate kiss as you both swayed against each other. You swore you heard a wolf-whistle somewhere but you paid no mind, turning in JJ’s hold to wrap both arms around his neck as he pulled you even closer into him.

One of his hands started to trace your spine all the way down to your ass when shouting distracted you both.

“Relax!” You both broke your exchange, turning around to see Sarah, John B, Topper, and the girl you’d left John B with all in each other’s faces.

“Why don’t you just leave, Sarah?” The girl sassed, the entire party quieting down aside from the people egging on the altercation, flashlights coming on as people started to record. “You aren’t even together anymore-”

“Why are you still talking?!” Sarah exclaimed, hands in the girls face.

“Have a little respect. Her dad just died!” Topper jumped in, reprimanding the girl.

“Shut up, Kook!” She spat, chin up. “Back off!” She warned, pushing Topper back with one arm.

“What’s going on?” Pope asked from beside you and JJ — him and Kiara seeming to have made their way through the crowd.

“The confrontation of the century.” JJ laughed, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “You owe me twenty dollars, princess.” He whispered, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. You didn’t miss the way Pope’s eyes squinted, you turning to look at him. The curly-haired boy pointed back and forth between you and JJ, raising an eyebrow and crossing his fingers — a silent question.

You nodded, a sheepish smile on your face. Pope smiled and held out his fist, waiting for you to bump yours with his. You scoffed, giving him a fist bump. You couldn’t turn back to face the argument without meeting Kie’s eyes that no doubt saw the interaction between you and Pope. She looked sad. Disappointed, almost.

“She’s a real gem.” Sarah said sarcastically to John B.

“What am I to you, huh?” He challenged, stepping closer to Sarah as Topper and the girl argued in the background. “Am I just another one? Like him?” He questioned, motioning towards Topper.

“She just another groupie to add to your collection?” Sarah retorted, standing toe to toe with the boy.

“Sarah, it doesn’t matter-” Topper tried but he went ignored.

“Did I mean anything to you?!” Sarah’s voice rose, her fists balling at her sides as Topper tugged on her arms.

“You’re questioning me when you’re here with your ex?!” John B shouted back.

“Did you tell her?!”

“Are you serious?!”

“Hey, back off!” Topper stepped in eventually, eye to eye with John B. “You wanna start some shit right now?!”

“Do I wanna start some shit?...” John B asked menacingly, head held high.

“Come on, John B! Kick his ass!” Some random bystander yelled, phone in hand. The four of you looked at one another nervously.

“Should we…?” Kiara dragged out.

“Yeah.” Pope answered the half-asked question, the four of you wrestling your way through the mob of people to reach your friends. Too preoccupied with pushing your way through, you couldn’t see what was happening. But you could hear.

“They all know what happened last time!” That was Topper.

“Just get out! Go!” Sarah. Who was she talking to?

“I’ll beat your ass!” Topper. Again.

“Get out of here, Topper!” John B said.

“Hey!” A new voice. “She don’t want you anymore, bro!” Was that Kelce?

“Shut the hell up...” John B warned, pushing the boy out of his face. You were able to see this happen just as the four of you made it to the center where they stood.

“What’re you gonna do, John B?” He pressed. “Kill me like you killed Sheriff Peterkin? Huh?” Wrong move, Kelce. Wrong. Move. “Do something!-” And something was indeed done as John B doubled back to punch the boy in his jaw, sending him stumbling back into the crowd.

Topper took the opportunity to charge at JB, grabbing him up by his shirt and tossing him to the ground. This urged you and your friends to jump in, the crowd closing in.

“Hey!” The four of you yelled angrily, pushing people out of the way.

“Move!” You shouted, forcefully shoving bodies out of you way. “Get the f- move!” You broke through just in time to see the girl John B was chatting up push Sarah to the concrete, JB calling the blonde’s name. You shoved the girl away, seeing her tumble on her ass. “Move, bitch!”

“What’s your problem?!” Kiara shouted at the girl as well, emerging next to you after witnessing the assault herself. “You all right?” Kie asked Sarah as the girl pushed herself up.

“What the hell?!” The girl that pushed her screamed. “Whose side are you on?!”

“She’s our friend!” You retorted. “Guys!” You shouted, looking around for your three male friends — spotting them to your right. John B was being pinned down by Topper, Pope had bum rushed half a dozen people to get to him, and JJ had leaped over one of the short walls to help his friend.

Pope went straight for Kelce who was helping Topper jump JB — taking a few nasty hits to his torso before managing to subdue the boy.

JJ had his sights on Topper — snatching the boy off of his best friend and into a chokehold.

“JJ!” You shouted, you and Kie rushing over. “We have to leave!” You warned, not getting too close.

“It’s not worth it, guys, come on!” Kiara bellowed.

Pope was the first one to ground himself, pushing Kelce off of him and to the concrete before gathering JJ and John B. “C’mon, we’re done!” He rushed, pushing the two boys ahead of him.

“We good?” JJ asked John B, full of adrenaline. He was on a streak, huh?

“We’re good.” John B exasperated, adjusting his shirt.

The five of you walked away from the party, JJ grabbing your hand so he didn’t lose you in the crowd. Piling into the van, the five of you sped off watching the chaos continue through the vehicle windows.

“WELL, THAT WAS A LITTLE UNEXPECTED.” JJ pointed out the obvious, crushing an empty beer can in his hand and leaning against the van. You’d stopped at a convenience store, The Twinkie parked outside. You and JJ had gone inside to get drinks as John B sat inside, legs outstretched in front of him with a cold beer pressed to his head, Kiara and Pope sitting up front with Kie in the driver’s seat.

“Was it?” She protested, pulling her face together.

“Couldn’t just have one night without some shit going on.” Pope sighed angrily, throwing his head back.

“Hey, maybe she’ll come around.” JJ tried the optimistic approach, eyes on John B who looked like he couldn’t be more over it if he tried.

“...It’s like everything that happened to us didn’t matter.” John B said sadly, looking at his shoes. “And maybe it doesn’t.”

“I’VE HAD MORE BLACK EYES IN THE LAST MONTH THAN I’VE EVER HAD IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.” Pope said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. It wasn’t as gloomy as it was in the van on the way back, but the gray cloud was still there.

You were all back at The Chateau now, crowded around your own bonfire. You and JJ sat on one bench, Marley curled up at your feet while John B and Kie sat on another, Pope having a lawn chair all to himself as him, you, and JB roasted marshmallows.

“That was building up for years.” JJ said, taking a bite out of his fresh hot pocket as you laid your head on his shoulder, roasting your marshmallow. “Rumble in the jungle.” He joked through a mouth full of food.

“Hey,” John B spoke up, eyes running between you and Kie. “Did you guys really stick up for Sarah?”

You simply shrugged. “Yeah, look like she needed it.” You said bluntly, not in a mean way. Just matter of factly. “Pogues and Kooks fight different. Sarah isn’t the fighting type, not the pogue fighting type anyway.”

“Of course I did.” Kie replied after. “She’s not a real Kook.”

“Yeah, tell that to Topper.” Pope threw out. It went silent for a few moments, the only sounds being the crickets and the crackling of the fire. And the chickens in the coop. They were oddly active tonight.

At the sound of their incessant clucking, John B’s eyes furrowed — turning around and staring off into the distance. You paid no mind to it as JJ plucked your freshly roasted marshmallow of the stick and ate it just as you’d brought it to your lips.

“Ah- hey!” You removed your head from his shoulder, pushing him playfully.

“Sorry, got a little hungry.”

“You have an entire hot pocket in your hand.”

“Yeah, but-” He was cut off when you dipped your head down taking a huge bite out of his hot pocket — the steaming food causing you to breathe wildly while chewing. “That’s what your ass gets.” He laughed, his amusement dying when Marley took the opportunity to snatch the remaining portion of the item from his hand, gulping in down in few bites. “What the hell?!”

Your own laughter erupted, almost causing you to choke on the bite of food – JJ patting your back to help out when John B shushed you. The four of you looked at him.

“What?” Pope asked.

“...Someone’s here.” He said, standing up from his seat and taking slow steps towards the chicken coop.

“You don’t think Topper would…?” Kiara threw out the possibility.

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” JJ said, trying to find whatever it was John B was looking at. The four of you stood up, trailing behind John B.

“Hey, who’s out there?!” John B called, the five of you creeping around the bushes and trees.

“You Kooks better not try anything!” Kie warned aloud.

Suddenly, a figure emerged. “How y’all doing?” You couldn’t help but loudly smack your teeth and roll your eyes — it was no one other than the creepy guy that ran with Limbrey.

“Not this motherfucker…” You sighed. "Don't you have a job?"

“You gotta be kidding me.” JJ complained beside you.

“Lovely evenin’ we’re havin’.” He smiled, walking towards you all and out of the woods with his hands up in surrender.

“Lovely evening we were having.” You corrected, a grimace on your face. “Go away.” You dead panned. “Creeping in the woods and peeping on minors is odd. And a felony-”

“You know, out of all of you, I think I like you the least.” He said.

“Is this where I’m supposed to fall to my knees in tears?” You sassed. “For someone dressed like a low budget G.I. Joe, I don’t think you should be too worried about me.”

“Look, I didn't come here to fuss ‘n fight.” He said. “I don’t hold a grudge with any of y’all, all right?” He reassured, slapping his hands against his thighs. “But this can go hard,” He said, patting himself down and holding his jacket open as he spun around to show that he was unarmed. “Or this can go easy.” He said plainly, throwing his arms out.

He was in front of you all now, surveying you each one by one. “You know what I’m here for.” He smiled. “Lemme give you a little demonstration, you see that swing?” He asked, pointing to the tire swing in hanging from the large tree in the backyard. “I got the best bow hunters in the Army Rangers with me.”

“Yeah?” JJ challenged.

“Mhm.” The man hummed, whistling two times before an arrow went whizzing through the air, embedding itself into the oak of the Magnolia Tree. The object startled some of your friends, you and JJ’s eyes glued to the man as he walked circles around you five. “They’ll stick you just as soon as I say so.” He threatened, stepping into Pope’s space.

JJ walked up behind him when an arrow flew right beside your ear, landing right at the blonde’s feet. You’d forgotten all about Marley until you heard her growl from beside you, looking down to see her eyes glued to the man as she bared her teeth.

You’d never heard her growl so lowly before. And maybe it was time to start teaching her some new tricks if she was going to be by your side through all this. Maybe you were both changing...

“Nuh-uh.” He warned, eyeing JJ before turning his smug grin back to Pope. “Now, I’m not gonna give you a countdown or any bullshit like that. I’m just gonna whistle.” He said bluntly, eyes boring into Pope’s who was breathing heavily, nostrils flared.

It was a tense few moments — It was Pope’s choice. But was it really? Were there really any choices at all? The air grew stiff and suffocating as you watched your friend dig into his pocket, his hand emerging with the real key this time.

He was about to hand it over when he clutched it, holding it to his chest. “No.” He muttered, shaking his head as he pressed his lips together. “This key belongs to my family.” He hissed.

The man laughed, pacing shortly on his feet. “I am losin’ my patience with you, Pope.” He informed, eyes void yet full of evil all at once. He turned back to Pope, putting two fingers to his lips, preparing himself to give the signal to his men in the woods when Pope handed over the key.

He smiled, taking the item with no urgency. “You did the right thing, kid.” He commended. “Knowing when you don’t have a choice is an underappreciated talent. You be safe, now.” He waved off, turning and walking through the remaining four of you. “Y’all have a good night.” He bid farewell as he disappeared into the trees again, multiple footsteps shuffling in the greenery to follow him out.

Pope stood there, panting like an angry bull. You’d never seen him so furious. Pope was the voice of reason. He was the level-headed one. The rational one.

Not whatever this was.

“...I am so sick, of this shit.” He rasped, his anger not allowing him to move his voice above an infuriated whisper. He shook his head, fists balled tightly as he walked off.

And you stood wondering just how much more personal was this going to get.

next chapter>

#Spotify #jj maybank x reader #svn #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback x reader #obx jj x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #obx jj #obx jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank x pogue!reader

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starryschoolgirl · 1 year ago

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Elusive Engagement

a Baby Love snippet - Circa: March, 1968

Summary -> When the news leaks to the press about your upcoming wedding, Elvis holds his own interrogation which wreaks havoc within his entourage. But you're told not to worry your pretty little head about it, however you can't help when you have a hunch that the leak came from your family.

Warnings -> It's only a little angsty, crying, throwing bottles, angry Elvis, misunderstandings, possible manipulation, disapproving mother-in-law, Roy Orbison makes a very short cameo

WC -> 2.5k

Thank you to that lovely anon who suggested making this newspaper thing, you have sparked a snippet you inspiring poet. And many thanks to Jeanie and Willow for helping me with the newspaper, lovely those ones.

The shrill ring of the bedstand's telephone had been an abrupt and unpleasant wake up call to Elvis after a long night of playing piano keys and renting out a bowling alley. To be quite fair it wasn't that this caller was being rude, it was after all digging into the day, 1 or 2PM by Elvis' guess.

He drawled out a deeper than usual, "Mm hello?", rubbing his eyes with his free hand as he did so. The hand extended from his eyes to drag down the skin on his face tiredly, the pull of the skin would only serve to tug an eyelid open.

A joyous voice had filled Elvis' ear, an old friend's voice,

"Now I knew you had a wedding coming but why didn't you tell me I was invited to your wedding? And why didn't you tell me I was gonna sang too apparently?"

Elvis' eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head in a tired confusion, his lips smacked before he mumbled, "Roy? Man what are you talkin' about..."

He shifted in the bed slightly and turned to your side, warmth was emanating off you, his personal little heater. Elvis pulled the cord of the telephone from the bedside table so that he wouldn't knock over anything on the table as he scooted closer to your sleeping figure.

Roy's laugh filled the line, it was loud and had a bit of a pitch to it in the way Roy's singing voice could have. Elvis pulled the telephone away from his ear as he settled next to you, placing a hand on your stomach for contact as he leaned his back against the bed's headboard.

As he ran his hand down your stomach to your thighs, his fingers absentmindedly tugging at the laced hem of your short nightie as he complained into the phone,

"It's too early in the mornin' for ya jokes boy, what's goin' on Orbison?"

The laughing on the other line had subsided as he realized Elvis really didn't know what was going on.

"Elvis, it's all over the papers here, ain't it on the papers in California? Your wedding, it’s been leaked..."

-----

As you awoke from your much needed slumber you reached for your favorite pillow on the bed, Elvis. Only, it seems Elvis wasn't in bed? Maybe if you reached further you’d feel him, he tended to roll around in his sleep.

After the first swipe around the bed your hand turned frantic as it searched for him, you quickly sat up just to see he was gone. You pulled a stray hair out of the corner of your mouth and tried to smooth your mussed up hair back to at least look presentable as you scooted to his side of the bed, the warmth of his body long gone and now just a cold bunch of sheets and blankets.

The pads of your bare feet against the wood floor filled the room as you walked to grab your robe, it was a very chilly March morning, then again every morning was as Elvis had an obsession with keeping the house cold.

You felt very carefree as you wandered through the upstairs hall of the Hollywood home you and Elvis had been residing in, you didn't hear the loud guffaws and crude jokes of Elvis' entourage, dubbed as the Memphis Mafia, so you hoped that meant you could enjoy a sweet domestic morning with Elvis.

Just the thought excited you as you let your robe flutter open while you pranced down the stairs girlishly looking for your fiancé. Just as you rounded the bottom of the stairs and steered yourself into the sunken living room you had seen Elvis in his usual dressy attire, his back was turned to you as he was facing another part of the room that you couldn't quite see yet.

Just as you were about to call his name, your feet finally landing onto the plush white carpet of the sunken room, Elvis’ voice boomed through the room as he yelled, “Speak Goddammit!!” His yell closely followed by a bottle that had flown across the room and shattered against the wall, your guess of it being a bottle had been confirmed as fizzy brown liquid began to drizzle down the wall that had intercepted the bottle. The sound that had filled the air as it shattered had made you jump and squeal from the shock.

Elvis' broad shoulders had turned at the noise of your distress and your eyes shot around the room in a bit of panic, Elvis' friends were here, but instead of being their usual joyous, loud selves they were quietly standing straight with blank faces, like soldiers in trouble with their drill sergeant.

They were in trouble with Elvis, and if that couldn't be told from the way they all stood with sunken expressions, then the way a few of them remained in a flinched stance from the bottle being hurled just inches from their heads was the giveaway.

You made eye contact with Jerry for a split second before he looked away, when you tried to make eye contact with the others they only looked away as well, then you turned to a fast-approaching Elvis.

He hadn’t yet shaved and his hair looked to still be tussled from sleep. Your wide eyes softened slightly at his facial expression, he looked upset, you could tell by the way his jaw clenched and his nose was just slightly scrunched in a way that only someone who was often close to his resting face could tell.

Your voice was soft and questioning as you reached a shaky hand up to smooth back his hair, “Elvis..?”

You then realized why the others wouldn’t look at you, especially with Elvis in this mood.

Before you could say anything else you watched as his hands found the sides of your robe, pulling the sides together to hide your figure. You’d felt an embarrassed heat spread up your neck as you realized Elvis’ friends had just seen you in your short nightie, and with the cold air of the room, they no doubt saw the two little hardened details of your chest that Elvis liked to admire most.

You let out a breath as he tied the string of your robe especially tight.

“Elvis, what’s the matter?”

Elvis sighed, his hardened expression softening just for your eyes as his back was now turned to the other guys, he shook his head for a moment while staring down at the floor. Now you felt worried, you brought a hesitant hand up to cup his cheek as you murmured softly,

“Can I help in any way?”

He cracked a little smile at the question and placed his hand over yours as he turned his cheek to kiss it. With his unshaved cheek rubbing against your hand you felt the slightest tickle, and any hesitance or fear you might’ve housed for a moment was out the window as you couldn’t help your giggle at the sensation.

The sweet noise only served as a reminder to Elvis that he had a duty as a man to handle it on his own, and not have you worry your pretty little head about anything.

Elvis’ hands rested at your waist and he leaned down to kiss your cheek and murmured against the skin close to your ear, “No little one, why don’tchu you head right on upstairs, be up there in a minute with ya alright? Just talkin’ with the boys”

He pulled back for you to see his little encouraging smile, to which you returned tenfold with your own sweet grin.

As you headed back down the hall that led to the stairs the house was silent and as you had left sight of the room you could hear Elvis saying something quietly but couldn’t quite make it out. You wanted to but at the same time you didn’t see the point, Elvis was handling his business, therefore it was none of yours. As you reached the staircase you noticed paper placed on the first stair.

Of course your eyes glazed over it as you were taking a step up the stairs and just as you had passed it, the headline finally hit you smack dab in the face.

“ELVIS PRESLEY TO BE MARRIED IN JUNE”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly bent down to grab it, taking slow steps up the stairs as you read the contents.

A close source had revealed the upcoming wedding? Who could that be? Is that why Elvis was so angry downstairs? No one was supposed to know until after.

As you had reached the top of the stairs you had to lean against the wall and think, a million thoughts going through your brain as to why one of the people close to Elvis would reveal it. They’d risk losing more than they’d gain. Elvis didn’t like people who couldn’t keep their trap shut about his personal business.

There were even a few times where Elvis had stepped up to his manager, Mr. Parker, because the man wanted to release some information to the press about you and Elvis to keep his name before the public due to his movie career going down the toilet.

That argument didn’t end well as Elvis had almost gotten the two of them sued by refusing to participate in a project unless Mr. Parker promised not to go to the press for publicity, as Elvis didn’t want your name being dragged in the mud. Those journalists often found a way to make anyone, even someone Elvis deemed as saintly and perfect as you, seem like last month’s garbage.

But a thought that seemed to reoccur in your brain at the moment was the worry that the leak came from your side. After all, your family didn’t approve of this union. Especially your mother.

No, she wouldn’t do that, would she?

Your body remained stiff even though you felt as if you were buzzing all over, this vibration in your stomach, mixing and stirring your stomach acids all around.

This could all be your fault. Those guys could all be paying for your own mother’s actions. It was enough to make you feel a little sick.

You kept a hand on the wall as you wandered down the hall to your and Elvis' shared bedroom, your steps grew faster as you heard a bang and Elvis yelling at one of the guys, as if your growing guilt would tackle you to the floor if you slowed down.

Once you made it to the room you closed the door behind you, and with the newspaper still in hand you sat on Elvis’ side of the bed, turning the rotary dial to your mother’s number.

After a few rings and a shaky breath you heard a familiar voice say “Hello”, it was Rienne, one of the maids.

You tried to remain composed, heeding your mother’s lesson that if you weren’t composed around the help, they wouldn’t respect you.

“R-Rienne, is mother home?”

Your palm felt sweaty as you nervously clenched your free hand into a fist, biting your lip to keep it from enacting its nervous quiver.

“Cosette, is that you? Oh how are you Dearie?”

“Rienne, please is my mother home?”

There was a short pause before Rienne answered with a yes, you spoke as softly as you could without stuttering, asking her to call for your mother. And when your mother finally did come to the phone she answered with a soft, quiet, “Cosette?”

Your lower lip wobbled as you spoke in a soft, quiet voice that almost completely mirrored your mother had it not been for the little crack at the end,

“It wasn’t you was it?”

As you were greeted with silence you brought your other hand up to clench the telephone nervously. Then your mother spoke once more,

“Setty, what ever do you mean?”

You breathed out wetly, allowing for vulnerability as you clenched the telephone as if you would your mother’s hand had she been here, “Th-The wedding, it’s in the papers Mommy”

More silence followed before your mother’s sympathetic voice, “Oh my love, I-”, she paused trying to find the right words, “Well, I-”

With her sudden loss of vocabulary your worry spiked and you questioned quickly, voice not raising in volume, only in distress, “It wasn’t you was it? Tell me it wasn’t please-”

“I told you not to get involved with that man, with men like him these things are bound to happen.”

You felt your eyes begin to burn slightly. You had almost worked yourself into tears from that last sentence. “You mean you didn’t leak-”

“Of course not my dear, why would Mommy do that to you?”

You wished you could see her, not only for the comfort she could offer, but also for the giveaway she could offer as well. You shared many traits with her, one of which being a giveaway for when you lie, and over the phone you really couldn’t tell. You wanted to believe her, you really did.

Suddenly her voice was much colder, as she instigated,

“Is that what that man has you thinking? Is he making you think that your mother and father are these big bad wolves? Figures, a man like him doesn’t have much to offer so he has to make it look like everyone else has even less to make someone stay. You know I warned you-”

The change of tone was abrupt, and the burning of your eyes violently increased from each syllable she spoke. Your eyes would be pools in no time.

“N-No Mommy, no he didn’t say anything, he-”

Your voice had caught in your throat. God you couldn’t do anything right, and now your mother is misunderstanding what a good man Elvis is. When you could finally speak, your nervous panic had left your voice so pathetically quiet that it came out like a choked whisper,

“He’s- No, I, it’s not that, I promise, I,”

Your mother cut in again with a scoff through the line, “It’s an isolation tactic my darling, he’s turning you against us. Goodness, why can’t you see that? I know I didn’t raise a stupid girl”

And just as it always had since you were a little girl, your voice gave out completely as you tried to explain yourself to your mother. The same way your mother’s voice would give out anytime she tried to explain something to your father.

And as no noise would leave your throat, you would only be able to silently listen to your mother’s quiet voice that somehow even in a crowded room seemed louder and more present than any other person’s voice.

Despite its quiet softness, it could somehow often surpass Elvis’ loud harsh one.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you sat on the bed and listened to her go on about what Elvis was doing to you, what it would be like when you finally married him. She topped it all off with how much someone can change when he goes from man to husband. And that you’ll regret it all in the end.

You bit your lower lip harshly to stop it’s quivering, and as her voice rang through your skull you didn’t even recognize the click of the door, or the sound of Elvis’ shoes striding closer and closer on the wood floor.

It was only when you felt a pull on the telephone did you look up to find someone else, Elvis. He looked at you with worry before mumbling into the line as if your mother were an afterthought,

“Goodbye Mrs. Chevalier”

That was so fun to write! I had a whole other part written but I figured if it's a snippet, it's best I keep it short eh? Goodness I just love writing for this universe, I'm having so much fun messing around with these two!

Thanks plenty for reading!! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!

Taglist Lovelies: @fadedsummerlove, @lialocklear, @astral-eyed-cat, @suraemoon, @geanecore, @pinkpuffycloud, @s0phlabrunette, @that-hotdog

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iguessthisisanewobsession · 2 years ago

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It takes a mob Part 1

PART 2

Bill didn’t sign up for this.

He glanced around at his fellow gang members as the kid let out another shrill cry.

The kid was couldn’t’ve been two. He was small, in a can and from it’s shivering Bill could guess very cold.

“Aw hell..”

Lifting up the tyke, Bill grimaced as he pealed off the what he could only assume was some sort of blanket and blindly handed behind himself.

“What the fuck is on that shit?”

“What the fuck would I know Maven? Do we look like a baby experts? Kind of smells like blood..”

“Blood ain’t green Ken..”

“Did I say it looked like bloo-“

“Will you two quit yapping? The kid doesn’t look too good someone hand me a jacket.”

Bill cut the off as he ran a hand over the kid’s back. After a quick round of rock paper scissors, Marv handed over his hoodie with a pout.

‘The kid is way too small’

Bill grimaced as he tried his best to wrap the kid tightly. He could probably his fingers around the kid’s waist and still be able to drop a penny between them.

“Was there anything else left with ‘im Bill? A name or-?”

“Not unless it’s on a candy wrapper.”

Bill sneered as he kicked the trash can over,

“There’s a lot of types of fucked up in Gotham but to leave a babe outside in January..”

Marv pluck the kid out of Bill’s hands and gently bounced him on his hip. Cooing gently as the boy’s blue eyes started to close before smiling and asking,

“So what’re we goin’ to name him? I vote Danny. He looks like a Danny.”

“Ayy no, we’re not naming him nothing. We are gang members, Hood’s gang but still. What we are going to do is clean and warm him up before we set him down at the Wayne foundation’s-“

Bill paused Marv let out a shriek. The kid had let out a sneeze. Usually wouldn’t’ve been that big of an issue but there was now a very big patch of ice on the building’s side that wasn’t there before.

Shiiiitttt..

The kid’s a meta.

Could a kid his age even become a meta?

How?

“We can’t take him to the foundation Bill.”

Ken muttered,

“The Bat will be notified day one an’ send him packing. Tough enough in the system as is, the second he has that M on his papers his chances of a normal childhood is zero.”

“And what do you think we can do about it? In case you forgot, our boss works with the bats.”

“We can hide him!”

Marv chimed in,

“There’s a couple dozen of us around, I’m sure if we just ask-”

“Are you hearing yourself speak? Hide him from the bats. It won’t work.”

Bill pinched the bridge of his nose as leaned against the alley.

“So that’s it we’re just going let the kid be push around the country? He didn’t came from a happy home Bill! The system will eat him alive and then there will be a freeze jr. in 15 to 20 years! Shhh shhh sorry Dan-Dan sorry, Calm down baby.”

Bill watched as Marv continued to shush the baby. For being gang member Marv has always been a gentle soul, everyone knew his soft spot for kids.

“Fuck…”

Ken chuckled as he ruffled “Danny’s” hair.

“Done being a dick?”

“Yeah, yeah.. yuck it up you two. If this blows up in your faces than I want no part of it.”

“Come on Danny let’s go find you some food. There’s got to be a convenience open somewhere around here!”

Bill sighed as the two exited the alley with the gurgling baby. Hiding him from Red hood was going to be impossible but at this point he knew when to give up a fight.

Taking one last glance Bill let out a weary chuckle and looked to the sky.

“I should’ve never left the goonion..”

#dp x dc #writing prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton #jason todd #dc x dp #goonion bill is now a Hood member #Marv and Ken are my ocs #I hope they came off well bc I came up with them on the fly #Jason feels a shudder take his body as he looked up from his book #his guys are doing something stupid again #writing prompts #it takes a mob

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3minsover · 8 months ago

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late night:early start

City commuter Steve has to get the first train at 5:30am, already suited and preened for the day even at the early hour. He ends up in the same carriage as a clearly tired, scruffy-looking guy who lays his guitar case down across two seats about three rows away from Steve before slumping into one himself, one that faces Steve.

Despite the guy’s bedraggled appearance, and the smudges of eyeliner that are still clinging to his waterline, Steve is entranced. He can’t help but follow the long line of the guy’s arms under the sleeves of his jacket, down to the flex and curl of his fingers as they drum out a rhythm on the little table in front of him. The man seems to sense Steve’s curious eyes on him and glances up, meeting Steve’s gaze with wide, bleary brown eyes and a half-smile. He scratches at the skin behind his ear, just beneath where a mess of curls is twisted into a lazy bun.

“Late night?” Steve finds himself asking unprompted. He’s not one to talk to strangers, but there’s something compelling, intriguing about the inked etchings peaking out of the guy’s sleeve cuffs, the silver stud in his nose, the heavy boots at the end of long, stretched out legs. He’s so very different from the crisp and fresh-pressed suits at the firm, and even though it isn’t even 6am yet, Steve suddenly feels wide awake.

“Uh, yeah,” the guy answers sheepishly, his voice rough with evident disuse - or overuse. perhaps both. “Would you believe I missed the last train yesterday night?”

“Ah, trains are tricky like that. You don’t live around here then?” It’s a presumptuous question, but one that Steve’s instincts tell him to ask.

“I look like that much of a city rat, huh?” The man chuckles, and Steve’s heartbeat ticks up.

“Hah- You don’t- You don’t look like a lot of the people I see around town, is all I’m saying. and that’s not a bad thing, if I’m being totally honest.” Steve can feel his cheeks heating, and for a moment the rumble of the train is the only sound.

“Okay, good. I’ll take that,” the guy says, brows pinching a little. “You uh, you goin’ into the city then I'm guessing?”

“Yeah, it’s a shitty gig having to come all this way, but at least I haven’t had to sell my kidney to cover rent.”

“I don’t think they’d take my kidney if I offered,” the guy smiles, and Steve barks out a laugh that’s too loud for the empty carriage and the earliness. The guy shifts in his seat, and Steve instinctively leans forward, wanting really to move the few rows forward until he’s close enough to see the early morning light dance and glint in those big, dark eyes.

“That have anything to do with while you were stranded?” Steve asks, gesturing to the guitar case.

“Yup. got me in all kinds of trouble, she has. Gig finished late, couldn’t get a cab, welcome to hotel train-station-waiting-room.”

Steve manages to chuckle more softly this time, his gaze catching on the twitch of the guy’s lips as he stifles a yawn.

“Hey, if you wanted to- You could take a nap, I’ll watch your stuff. Make sure no one steals it, or whatever.”

The man blinks at him in surprise, lashes fluttering where his lids are heavy.

“That’d- Shit, that’d be awesome, man. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Let me just-” And so Steve’s more daring thoughts win out. He plucks up his briefcase from the seat next to him and hurries the short distance to the cluster of seats on the opposite side of the aisle from his new charge. “There. Now I got a clear line of sight.”

“I’ve never felt safer,” the guy jokes, and pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head, tucking his chin into his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry, um. When should I wake you?”

“Whenever you’re getting off, big boy,” the guy shoots back without raising his head, and Steve can just about make out the curve of his lips and the dimple that sits in the corner of his cheek. He can feel his own cheeks warming at the guy’s words, and Steve’s glad there’s no one around to see. He lets himself watch this pretty stranger under the pretence that he’s keeping an eye on his guitar, and the hour and a half slides by almost unnoticed.

The carriage is a little busier but still quiet when Steve’s stop rolls around. The man hasn’t moved since he nodded off, and it almost breaks Steve’s heart to wake him. Carefully, Steve stands and leans down, wrapping his fingers around the man’s shoulder and shaking lightly.

“Hey, buddy, I gotta get off.”

The guy’s eyes blink open, wide and unfocused and so lovely, before they swivel up to meet Steve’s own. His chin tips upward and his lips curve in a smile, and something in Steve begs closer closer closer, but instead he just clears his throat and rights himself.

“Thank you, dude. Even that was way better than a wooden goddamn bench.” The guy bends his arms and stretches, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“I’m- I’m steve, by the way,” he announces suddenly, making a step towards the carriage doors, despite how reluctant he is to move away from his stranger.

“Hey, Steve,” the guy replies, hauling himself upright - how coincidental that they’re off at the same, second-to-last stop. The train draws to a halt, and the guy stumbles forward just a fraction, still off-balance with new consciousness. Suddenly, they’re face to face. Or more they’re nose to chin, because this man has a good four inches on Steve. It’s all Steve can do not to lean up and kiss his pretty lips right here and now. “Name’s Eddie.”

And it feels right. It fits.

Steve doesn’t know how or why, but everything about this man fits; feels right.

“Good to meet you, Eddie,” Steve says, a little breathless. “Hey, if you’re ever down my way again, how about I give you a better place to sleep than a waiting room bench.” And Steve knows it’s a bit of a pretentious thing to do, but he slips a business card out of his wallet and tucks it into the breast pocket of Eddie’s jacket. He pats it once and pivots away, can’t bear the thought that he’s misread the electricity between them. He rushes through the doors and slips into the stream of morning bodies, leaving the perfect newness of his pretty stranger back in that carriage. but that evening, Steve’s phone buzzes with a text from an unsaved number.

It simply reads:

thanks again for being my lookout. if the offer’s still on the table, how about friday night?

#steddie #steddie au #steve harrington x eddie munson #originally posted on twitter #3minsover

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piratefishmama · 3 months ago

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I Wish | Part 6

It was a clean sweep, the guys called it quick enough, which was disappointing for Eddie since he’d never come across a monster quite like the beast he had to play with, but no amount of quick thinking from his band mates could save them from the untimely demise of their characters.

They didn’t have enough spell slots, hit points were straggling, their potions mysteriously vanished, the weaponry they were sure they had in reserves had been used, and only one real lucky saving throw wasn’t enough to save them the following turn.

The False Hydra lurking in the cliffside caves of Rainwund snatching sailors, their ships, townsfolk, and livestock got them. Each and every one of them.

They knew what it was too early though, with Eddie’s flippant dismissal of characters his bandmates were supposed to know, his adamant insistence that no, the town was always that quiet the hell are you talking about, Gare?

Jeff made a spot on educated guess.

It still hadn’t saved them in the end, Dougie’s character lost first with a frankly dreadful saving throw, followed by Gareth’s own little gnome who lasted one full turn longer than he should have, and then finally Jeff himself, but he’d called it. Eddie knew his own friends back home wouldn’t be so quick to catch on, which was the only saving grace for this short jaunt into futuristic DND possibilities.

He could completely blindside his friends.

Probably for the best given this whole thing was meant to fit into a neat little segment on a talk show. Not to span across hours and hours of gameplay, they were already cutting it close to too long.

So, Eddie wrapped it up. With Jeff’s demise, Eddie rose to his feet, arms extending in a great sweeping arc “You fought bravely, oh daring soldiers of ill-fate, however upon this sorrowful day, the town of Rainwund was lost to the song of the False Hydra, it, and it’s victims, would be forgotten by the world and all who walk upon it. Perhaps one day, one fateful day, a new team of would-be heroes will find and defeat this deadly foe, but until then… I humbly bid you fallen soldiers, a peaceful journey to the great beyond.”

The lights dimmed, and for a moment, there was silence while set personnel found their places, then the lights overhead relit with the cameras refocused on the desk and chairs, where Jimmy had relocated.

“Everyone give a big hand to the members of Corroded Coffin!” Applause and cheers rang through the studio, over which he made quick work of reiterating album release dates for them, followed by a quick request of, “stay tuned after the break we’re joined by the cast of MARVEL’s new—” Eddie tuned him out for the rest of it, they were being guided off by stage crew, their segment was over, it was done.

The bubble of imagination popped, the activity giving Eddie a modicum of comfort was over and done with, and maybe he’d stretched it on just a little longer than necessary with peppered suspense, but he couldn’t hold off whatever came after anymore.

Steve met them behind the curtain, beyond the veil of stage lights and TV magic, he gifted the boys little Tupperware containers which they plucked from him as they walked by full of snacks he’d apparently pilfered from the catering tables, Eddie however, he gently manoeuvred Eddie into a side room out of the way with a chirped little “and you’re coming with me, hotshot.”

The room which was dressed up like some kind of fancy dungeon, had curtains pinned to the walls, fake candles flickering on tables, and in the middle, surrounded by chairs, was a table topped by a haphazardly drawn dungeon map and a few mini figs, it looked a little bit like a discount version of his drama room domain in high school.

“What’s goin on?”

“Jimmy wants to do a little opener introduction thing with you as the frontman of the band, it should have been filmed before but you were a little in your own head, so to make you feel better they figured it’d be best to do it afterwards. It’s nothing scary, it’s to go with your little DND thing out there, he wants to basically ‘walk in’ on you as a dungeon master, scheming with a few of your mini figurine things. Maybe throw in a little maniacal laugh for him to walk in on. Is that okay?”

“Oh, uh… yeah, okay, yeah that’s fine, I can do that” one last thing to do, not that it mattered much, but it was part of the experience! But then… thinking about it, “is there any point to that though?” Steve raised a single brow in question “I mean, I’m going home right?” The second brow joined the first and Eddie couldn’t help but panic a little. “I am, right?” He couldn’t imagine going through all that without the assurance that he was going home after it all.

What a wild thought, considering fame and fortune had been the goal for so long, just one interview and he was ready to throw in the towel, and it wasn’t even a bad interview. He just… didn’t feel the happiness he thought he would.

He felt… lonely.

His band were off with their snacks, hadn’t even looked back as he was guided away from them, his ‘partner’ had ditched him before the whole thing, he’d ‘blocked’ him, whatever that meant, and even the fun opener with the host wasn’t a whole band thing, just him. On his own.

All alone.

“If you want to, sure, just say the word. Didn’t you wanna experience this first though?”

“I guess…” Steve took one prolonged look at him, then snapped his fingers, the flickering faux candlelight froze, the sound from outside the room stopped, everything just. Ceased, and Steve dropped the mirage of normalcy he’d adopted to blend into the masses, returning to the damn near ethereal looks he’d had when he’d first appeared “Steve?”

“I’m not going to force you to experience something you’re emotionally done with, Eddie.” Steve stepped closer to him, just close enough to take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. His hands were warm, big… comforting… fingers smooth but they tingled against his skin, as if the digits themselves were wrapped in a magical field of energy. They probably were. They were an instant balm to his drooping mood in any case “If you’re done with this… if you’re tired, you can opt out, leaving this time behind wont hurt anyone here, you can go back home, and we can do something else.”

Gods there was just something so dangerous about Steve, not in the literal sense, although probably yes, in the literal sense too, but he was so… everything. He was everything. His eyes alone, the worlds most valuable golden trinkets couldn’t compare to the shimmer in those eyes of his, as subtle as it may have been, there were flecks of gold in that hazel-green hue. Eddie could have probably lost every single minute, second, millisecond of his available lifetime, just looking at him.

How did he ever think this man was just a random homeless stranger wandering in from the cold? Better question, how was he going to manage being even remotely normal around him going forward?

“I feel like, if I stay… I’m going to walk directly into like, the worst possible thing an it’s gonna make me feel like shit, what’s the odds of that?”

“Mmmnn” he squinted an almost pained expression, tilting his head just a little as he thought about it “ninety percent chance of a bullshit experience.”

Eddie took one more look around the room, then down to his aged and weathered hands clasped within Steve’s own, nodded in self-affirmation, and then met Steve’s eyes once more. “Steve… I wish we were home.”

With a twinkle of the golden flecks in his eye, a warm smile on his lips, and a snap of his fingers, the makeshift dungeon room melted away out of existence. He hadn’t witnessed this the first time around, getting to that time had been a black out, and then he’d woken up to it all. This time, Eddie got to watch.

He got to watch as the world reshaped, formed around them, he got to watch his hands de-age, the wrinkles of time worn into his skin disappearing before his very eyes, tattoos that’d marked his arms vanished until only the ones he recognised remained. His clothes returned, his body regained its youth and all the aches and pains that’d lingered in the back of his mind as a rockstar faded away.

And just like that, the trailer materialised around them. It was dark outside, as if nothing had changed. As if no time had passed. The smells, musty cigarette smoke, the faint scent of coffee, the pitter-patter of rain hitting the roof and gravel outside. He was home.

And Steve was still there, smiling at warmly him, as if he hadn’t just reshaped reality around them, as if everything was normal.

“Better?” His voice even sounded warm, like a heated blanket on a cold day, instant all enveloping comfort.

He wanted to say yes. Wanted to at the very least nod his head, but everything all at once was so very too much, everything he’d been working towards, that they’d been working towards, the band practices in Dougie’s garage, the ‘gigs’ at the Hideout, all the talk, the plans, the promises to themselves that they were gonna make it, they were gonna do something with their talents.

He’d hated it. He’d hated everything about it. He couldn’t even recall if Wayne had been mentioned during the whole ordeal. Was Wayne still around? Was he present? In his life at all? Had he just abandoned his uncle for deeply unfulfilling fame and fortune?

His next exhale came with a sob he couldn’t hold back, and instantly he found himself drawn into two broad arms and a strong embrace. “Oh, Eddie… hey, no it’s okay, I’m here, it’s okay, you’re okay” words uttered so softly into his hair, close enough to his ear that he didn’t have to strain to hear them over the opened floodgates that were his sobs.

He’d tried so hard, for so long with that one goal in mind. And he’d hated it. He couldn’t even stick around for a whole day without the promise that he could get the fuck out of there at any point, and even WITH that promise, he’d bailed early. He couldn’t handle it. He didn’t want it. After all that planning, all those promises to himself, to the band… he didn’t want it.

He was already too far into his life to plan for anything else. He wasn’t getting into college, he struggled to hold down normal jobs, not that he could even get one with his family name hanging over his head, with Al and his bullshit haunting him around every goddamn corner. People wouldn’t even hide their damn sneers, probably wouldn’t even interview him even if he did wanna work there, which he probably didn’t.

His life was one big dead end. How would he even face his friends? How would he even explain it to them? That he couldn’t, that fame wasn’t meant for him? That the cards of life would hand him the shittiest of deals if he stuck around for that draw?

He only vaguely registered Steve moving him as he spiralled, as he sobbed into the Genie’s shirt. The gentle guidance that took him from the living room where they’d rematerialised, to the chaos that was his own bedroom, and then onto his bed, ever so gentle in his manoeuvring that Eddie only realised they’d switched locations when Steve actually wrapped him in his own blanket, always with one arm around him. Never letting him go. Ever so attentive to his charge. Eddie chanced a look at him, his eyes wet, red rimmed, Steve looked perfect.

Of course he looked perfect. Not a hair out of place, his skin shimmering gold in the light. Perfect and entirely too soft in his attention on him.

“I—” Steve shook his head, his smile lacking in pity but drenched in sympathy.

“It’s okay, Eddie… I get it. This is a lot, what you’ve seen, witnessed, what you now understand about that life it’s a lot to take in. You’re going to hurt for a while, but you’ll be okay.”

“W-what do I even—even do now? I—I was gonna—the plan was always—I don’t have anything else, Steve… what am I gonna do?” His friends would be fine. They’d always be fine. They had options, parents who forced them to think of what ifs, of back ups for if the fame and fortune didn’t work out. Funny how it wasn’t because it wouldn’t happen, but because it would, and that it’d suck.

Eddie hadn’t even let Wayne try and make him think of back ups. Fame was it, stardom was the end goal, they’d be famous, and everything would be perfect. How naïve he’d been.

“Whatever you want, Eddie, you have a genuine Genie right here” he even motioned to himself, smile widening a little in a kind tease, before it softened once more just for him “but right now, I think you should sleep, we can go through the rules of Genie ownership in the morning.”

“Rules?” Eddie sniffled, lifting a blanket covered hand to wipe at his face, it was fine, his blanket had seen worse. God he was so tired all of a sudden. Probably the meltdown.

“Genies come with rules, Eddie, we come with guidelines. You kinda ploughed through with that big one right from the jump, didn’t really give me a chance to give you the run down, no harm no foul though, you’re safe, and you’re wiser. We can go through everything in the morning when we’re less frazzled.”

“Okay… but wait, my uncle, he’ll be home in the morning, he doesn’t—doesn’t know you’re here, where are you even gonna go?”

“Crone used to say that like the Fae—” Eddie wasn’t going to bring that up but he clocked it, the word snagged in his tired brain like a fish in a net, Fae, there were Fae? Fae were real? Steve continued undeterred “—‘my surroundings adapt to my presence’, like how she just blends into wherever she pops up, it’s weird, but it’ll be like I’ve always been here to him. He won’t even notice the difference. Nobody will. Just don’t send me back to my bottle, don’t tell me to go into my bottle. Don’t do that.”

“… Why?” Not that he would if Steve didn’t want to be in the bottle, but didn’t Genies just… stay in their bottles? Wasn’t that like, their homes?

“Cause you’ll lose me, I’ll lose you. I told you this already but…it's been a long day. Listen... sending me back to the bottle is equivalent to banishing me and you’ll never get me back again.” Maybe not home then, Eddie’s eyes widened, suddenly sobered by the idea of Steve just vanishing because he’d said something stupid. “I had a master last half an hour once because he told me to get back into the bottle to hide from his wife. I’m here, nobody will know what I am, nobody will think anything is wrong with me being here, won't even question it, don’t send me back… please?” Steve took his hands into his own, holding them tight in his warm, tingling grip “I—I don’t wanna go back.”

It was the least composed he’d seen the Genie since he’d met him what felt like weeks ago. It’d been a few hours. A few hours, and that was in another timeline, time didn’t even seem to have passed in his own.

He looked… desperate. Eyes wide, pleading. A smarter man might have questioned him, checked for loopholes, traps, anything nefarious a Genie might hide in plain sight, they were supposed to be tricksters after all.

But Eddie was not a smart man, he was also completely gone over those eyes. Tragic, really.

He sniffled once more, but nodded his head, eyes drooping, exhaustion catching up to him after his almost cathartic meltdown. “Okay… but where are you going to sleep?” If Genies even slept, it wasn’t like there were many options in the single bedroom trailer. Wayne had to sleep on a fold out cot in the living room for crying out loud.

“I’ll sleep with you, that’s fine right?” Oh.

A smarter man, would also probably just use his unlimited wishes to wish for a second bed, but again. Eddie was not a smart man.

“Yeah okay, that’s uh—that’s okay.” Eddie was in fact the least smartest man he knew.

Steve smiled brighter than the goddamn sun, and Gods both young and old, Eddie was so very fucked.

#PirateWrites #IWishFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Genie!Steve #just imagine how big of a menace Eddie could be with THAT monster #considering it wasnt invented yet back then!

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thelostboyslove-ect · 2 months ago

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Tour Mates (The Lost Boys X Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

(Hello, Hi, How ya goin. So I have been lurking in the Lost Boys fandom for over a year now and have been feral for these boys for far too long to not have an insane amount of ideas about them. So as if this movie didn't have a strong enough chokehold on me already, it led me to write my first ever fic. I have no idea if it's any good, but I hope someone out there at least enjoys the vision. This will be multiple chapters cause I can't shut up. Behold! Whatever this is!

P.S. I know Dwayne and his actor aren’t actually 6’7. But ya girl is 5’10 and may have a small size kink and this is my fic😤So let a girl live.)

Pairing: The Lost Boys x Fem!Reader (Poly Lost Boys implied)

Work count: 1208

Warnings: Darker Fic, misogyny, sexism, allusions to sex, allusions to murder, the boys being whores. Smut in future chapters.

Summary: You had always wanted nothing more than to be in a band and share your music with the world, and you were finally on your way to doing so. If only your band was big enough to do it alone.

You had always wanted to be a musician. Always. Ever since you could remember. From a child when you would sit and listen to whatever music your dad loved, making you guess titles and quiz you on the bands. From when you were a preteen and had the freedom to branch out to whole new styles of music you had never heard, buying records with what little money you could save. From when you got a guitar on your thirteenth birthday and played every moment you could after school and every chance on the weekends. From when you were fifteen and your friends made the choice to form a band. And from when you made the promise that very day that you would be the most legendary band in history.

While you were yet to be the most legendary band in history, for now, you were finally making moves. You were nowhere near Motely Crue, but you were getting somewhere. After years of writing, months upon months of being in studios, and all the savings you could muster. You finally had the money, the managers, and the following to go on tour. Your dream was coming true. If only there wasn’t one slight, incredibly frustrating, and immensely infuriating problem.

While you had the monetary ability to tour and quite the following, you weren’t quite big enough to tour on your OWN. Enter stage left the current bain of your existence—The Lost Boys. A Californian glam rock heavy metal band just starting to find their feet os so luckily at the same time as you. The band consisted of David the lead singer, a dominant man who truly embodied the idea of a frontman. Marko the bassist - the secondhand man to David as they had said themselves which had been proven multiple times with the way Marko seemed to wait on David hand and foot, never seeming to be too far behind him. Paul the lead guitarist, a wild chaotic lady’s man who always smelt of weed where it may be his erratic behavior took him. And last but DEFINITELY not least Dwayne. The drummer, an imposing 6’7 man who seemed to be made of muscle, with an intense gaze that could make anyone feel immense fear or simply melt depending on his mood.

At first, it had seemed perfect. They were nice, if not slightly flirty (aka clawing to get into your pants from the get go) and your bandmates got along brilliantly with them. You loved their music and it matched your sound really well. It was the ideal situation. That was until maybe a month into the tour. You could understand the excitement for a while, the booze, the drugs, the women, the partying. You’d be a hypocrite if you had blamed them for enjoying those things seeing as you had partaken in them yourself. But you thought that maybe after a little while that they would maybe calm down a bit. But they seemed pretty dead set on sticking to their band's slogan of sleeping all day and partying all night. Which you would respect if it wasn’t for the fact that it was impacting your ability to sleep at all, and in turn, your ability to play.

Now it was already hard being a woman in the rock industry, but being the only woman on an otherwise all-male tour? That came with a whole nother set of problems. You had been called every misogynistic name under the sun. Constantly told you couldn’t play, which your predicament was only adding fuel to the fire. Even more, you had your fair share of being told that the only reason that any of the boys kept you around on the tour, is so that they can have someone around as a backup to fuck on the nights they can't pull any groupies. A sleazy stand-in kept in reserve for desperate nights.

This is where the resentment began. You obviously didn’t care about anyone on tour sleeping around or bringing people back to the hotels, it came with the territory, and your boys did it pretty regularly. But the lost boys were seemingly insatiable. Bringing groups of fawning girls back to their (weirdly) shared hotel room every single night. Of course, this word spread and they inevitably got nothing but praise for their man whore behavior. As where you had been branded a slut for so much as picking up a guitar and being in a band. You had even only made out with one man on the entirety of the tour! The opportunity to go any further being ruined by the band in question themselves when they stumbled across you and refused to leave, glowering at the man till he took his hands off of you and left. A strange situation but nonetheless frustrating. The resentment only grew as the situation began to affect you in other ways than just your image and reputation.

When the boys would bring these girls back to their room it would always go the same. At some ridiculous hour of the morning you would hear the drunken love-struck giggles of the group of girls they had chosen for the night, followed by the strong voice of David beckoning them into the room, insisting for them to make themselves at home, to even shed a few layers to get comfortable, which would inevitably be followed by whooping and hollering from the other boys and then the music would start blaring. But no matter how loud they would blast the music you could always still hear the giggling, which would turn to moaning, which would turn to shrieking. You had to admit the first few nights, hell even to this day, it sometimes frightens you. Sometimes the screams just don’t seem as pleasurable as they should. Sometimes they are…almost blood-curdling. Like someone losing a fight for their life. But you know that’s just your imagination running wild, because just inevitably as the girls being there every night, the moaning would return. Always just the boys though, but you always imagined they had just fucked the girls out so much that they didn’t have the energy to make much noise.

These nightly occurrences would not bother you if it weren’t for the fact that while they were up and causing chaos, you were up and unable to sleep. Which for the first few weeks, was fine, but now nearing a month and a half of borderline sleepless nights due to the proclivities of your tour mates, you were starting to come undone. You didn’t have the luxury of sleeping all day, so naps in your dressing room were having to suffice and that would inevitably have an effect on your performance. You can't remember the last time you got through a show and didn’t mess up at least a segment or two from a few songs.

But after all of that what had been your final straw, was the boys being AWARE of the effects their actions had on you. They HAD to be from the way they had taunted you, teased you. The acts had become more frequent as the days went on. And ton your aggravation, harder to forget about.

#the lost boys #tlb #the lost boys x reader #david the lost boys x reader #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys x reader #paul the lost boys x reader #marko the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x y/n #the lost boys x fem!reader

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forlorn-crows · 7 months ago

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crow just tell me, tell me that mountain is not the somno enthusiast ever. that's right you can't!!! cause he is and I'll absolutely die on this hill

his big dick may be desperately rattling the bars of it's enclosure and losing when mount's awake but when big boy's asleep it takes over!!! he's soooo reactive but also a dead sleeper and oh how he loves waking up with sticky pants, just that delicious little sprinkle of humiliation in it all

I dunno imo he just is the somno boy, don't ya think?

mountain absolutely has a humiliation kink. plus, king of cumming in his pants, cumming untouched, and wet dreams? makes him the perfect target for some somno fun. not sure if anyone remembers "stuff that grows from mountains head", but that little ficlet of dew whispering sweet nothings just to watch the snapdragons grow, hinted that he likes to get a little filthy sometimes too . . .

dew influencing mountain's wet dream w/a side of somno handjobs under the cut, feat. mentions of how hot cumulus is

happy birthday ♡

Dew loves watching him like this. Expressive and unabashed in his sleep, unaware of anything except the fantasies playing out in his mind. His dick taking over his self control and bending him to the will of pleasure.

Plus he’s cute and fun to mess with. Can’t blame a ghoul for wanting to play a little.

“What’s goin’ on in there big guy? Hm?” Dew cards his hand through Mountain’s hair. He’s fallen asleep with his head in Dew’s lap, pleasantly warm and lulled by the soft rock record Dew had put on. Middle of their conversation too, the goof, but the fire ghoul won’t hold him to it.

Mountain’s only response is a small, high-pitched noise, paired with a twitch of his fingers. His cock twitches too, already tenting in his linen pants. Dew wants nothing more than to yank them down and expose that beautiful length, watch it sway and bob as he gets harder and harder.

Later, though; he wants to have a little fun first.

“Let me guess . . . Rain?” The fire ghoul waits for a response, but isn’t granted anything that signals his guess was correct.

“No? Hm. Swiss?” Still nothing. It’s a quick round of Guess Who? before he reaches his answer: “Lus?”

Mountain’s mouth drops open in a soft sigh, cock twitching again. There’s a little wet spot on the front of his pants now, and his ears twitch as Dew laughs knowingly.

“She’s got you wrapped around her curls, doesn’t she, Mount?” Dew sighs with a smile, petting at the freshly-sprouting justicia blooms around the base of one horn. Pretty fuchsia petals the same color as her favorite lipstick.

“Lucifer, she’s so gorgeous, huh? Wonder what you’re dreaming about . . . maybe she’s got you worshiping her tits, suckin’ on ‘em just how she likes . . .”

The earth ghoul lets out a throaty moan, top lip twitching to show a flash of teeth and tongue. Dew hums and traces along his mouth with his thumb. Back and forth, back and forth; sliding the pad of it along the tip of his tongue with each pass. Mountain’s mouth twitches again, and Dew is eager to slip his thumb inside. Watching as his lips close around the digit automatically, as they have so many times before, and he starts to suck. It’s ever so gentle, and a little bit sloppy, but it still makes Dew go all fuzzy inside.

“Yeah, bet it’s just like that,” he continues. “Sucking on her nipples until she gets all wet. Bet she calls you a good boy while you do it.”

Mountain huffs a moan around his finger. His leg kicks out, momentum rolling him fully onto his back, limbs sprawling out every which way as the true amount of his arousal is exposed to Dew: his cock is absolutely pressed to the seam of his pants, leaking into the fabric enough to rival a water ghoul.

“Fuck you’re as wet as she’d be, aren’t you,” the fire ghoul breathes. Mountain’s head lolls to the side, and his thumb slips out of his mouth, a line of drool following his fingernail. “Drooling all over her while she gets on your lap. Probably wouldn’t even have to take you to get you to bust, she could just rub her cunt all over you and you’d be creaming yourself, wouldn’t you?”

“Huh–uhh,” Mountain groans, all raspy on his exhale. Dew can see his eyes roll behind his eyelids, no doubt picturing the scene to a T. He makes a noise of agreement and smooths his hands down Mountain’s chest, gripping in a way Cumulus might, making sure to press the tips of his claws right in above his nipples. Imitating a pretty manicure pressed into his pecs.

“So pretty when she grabs you. Pushing her tits together with her elbows and her hair floats around her like a goddess. Callin’ you honey and love and baby.”

The earth ghoul bucks up into nothing, hands slowly fisting into the sheets beneath him. Whimpering when Dew digs his hands in just a little more.

“Bet your balls get so big when she bounces on that cock.” Dew’s own voice is getting a little husky now, dick chubbing up in interest under Mountain’s head. “Fuck, and she feels so good. So warm and wet and you just wanna grab her hips and never let go . . .”

“Wan’ . . . oh,” Mountain mutters, voice pitching up at the end into something breathy and feminine and Satanas does Dew want to hear him make it again.

“Oh yeah? You make pretty noises like that for her?” He slowly slides out from underneath Mountain’s head, laying it down gently onto the mattress before shuffling closer to his lower half. Dew glances up the length of him, taking in the rucked-up shirt, the hands kneading at the blankets, chest rising and falling a little faster now. Breath coming out in short puffs from his slack mouth, every other one accented with a sweet, quiet noise—almost like a dog yipping in its dreams. His hips follow his dick as it twitches upwards, thrusting into some imaginary curvy body.

“There you go, make sure you fuck her real good,” the fire ghoul teases, already pressing at that wet spot on the front of his pants. Groaning when he feels how hot he’s gotten there.

He’s fitting to burst at any moment, really. And Dew would very much like to see that.

“Wonder if she’s seen you like this,” he continues, tugging on the waistband. “All hot and bothered and you don’t even know it. Does she know how cute you get when you wake up all sticky?”

Dew gets his pants down just far enough to free his length, cursing when it throbs just from the exposure. “Fuck, those pretty nails wrapped around this big dick . . . fucking hells, Mount.”

Whatever hands-off objective he had before disintegrates when Mountain full-body groans and his cock spurts out another bead of pre—Dew can’t resist that, he just can’t. He wraps his hand around him and strokes him root to tip, biting back his own noise when Mountain visibly shudders.

“Ffuhh . . . mm li’ . . . tha’, gon’ . . . “ He’s babbling syllables again, getting louder the longer Dew jerks him off.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for her?” he goads, watching his face contort in flashes of pleasure. Feeling his cock get even fuller in his hand. “Shit, fill her up so good it’ll all drip out of her when she sits on your face and you get to suck on her perfect little—”

With a low groan, he’s squirting onto his belly in bursts of white, toes curling and his eyes rolling all the way back into his skull.

“Oh, baby,” Dew groans, his own cock throbbing between his legs. He just keeps going, wringing out shot after shot until it’s dribbling down his knuckles, the earth ghoul unconsciously mewling as he starts to reach overstimulation. More drool running out of the corner of his mouth as his head is tossed to the side.

“Fuck, Mount,” Dew mutters. He lets his cock flop back down against his stomach, licking the cum from his fingers as he watches the bigger ghoul sigh shakily and melt back into the sheets. Boneless and limp like nothing ever happened.

But Dew’s certainly not done with him yet.

“Wakey-wakey,” he lilts, pulling Mountain’s pants further down his legs so he can situate himself between them. Smoothing his hands up his thighs to grab at his hips while simultaneously licking a hot stripe from balls to tip, sending a quick zing of heat through his palms to rouse him from slumber.

Mountain half snuffles, half snorts himself awake, blinking up at the ceiling like he can’t quite remember how he got there. “Wha . . .” He cranes his neck up to glance down at Dew, happily licking up the cum from the hair around the base of his cock with a gaze full of mischief. The earth ghoul nearly chokes as his brain catches up to his body, eyes going wide as he presses up onto his elbows. “Satanas, Dew, unholy fuck.”

“What’d you dream about, big boy?” he teases, suckling briefly on the head of his softening cock.

“H-oh shit—”

“Yeah?” He kisses back down the shaft, grinning at the heat rising to Mountain’s face with every whimper. “Wanna have some more fun?"

#ficlet #crow writes #cw: somno #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #(mentioned)#crow caws #hypnoneghoul #mountain/dew #dew/mountain #mountain x dew #dew x mountain #the band ghost #i love making ghouls just lil nasty bastards #god mountain loves it tho #i could write mountain cumming in his sleep forever i think

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queers-gambit · 8 months ago

Text

But You Without Me Ain't Nice

prompt: ( requested ) deciding to surprise your boyfriend for Christmas after studying abroad, only to discover him in the arms of another. when you return to Oxford, so does his desire.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 5.7k+

note: it's not EXPLICIT cheating 'cause i wanted them to get back together.

warnings: small bouts of jaded feminism, cursing, hurt and comfort, AU timeline 'cause of implied altered canon, small angst, drama, emotions are hard, long distance relationships are hard, boys are dumb, "cheating" but not explicit - you'll see, more so betrayal, so that makes this relationship angst?

Cassandra's squeal of excitement was shrill enough to pierce an eardrum when you shuffled into her dormitory, shaking the snow from your hair and coat before she hugged you tightly. "I'm so excited you're here!" She beamed, "It's been so fucking lonely without you! God, you just had to leave, huh?"

You chuckled, "Oh, shove it. Edinburgh has one of the best programs in Europe, Cass, you know this!"

"I know, I know, you're better than us little folk at Oxford," she mocked with a groan, letting go of you as your eyes rolled in humor. "But still - it's so boring without you, I miss my roomie. There's literally nobody around for me to cause havoc with," she pouted dramatically.

"Well, I'm here for the holidays," you assured, "so you get me for the next couple weeks, you lucky ducky."

"Oh, please, you and I both know Felix isn't gonna let you outta his sight when he sees you. You planning on goin' home at all?"

"No, no, my sister has a flat just down the way," you explained. "She's in London until after the New Year - gave me her key when she picked me up from the airport," you showed her the metal device with a grin.

"Gonna take Felix back to the flat?"

"If he wants," you nodded.

"Oh, yeah, whatever, a flat completely to yourselves for the entire winter holiday? He's gonna lose his mind," your friend tutted. "When are you seeing him?"

"Uh, he said he was going to some party tonight?"

"Well, that's normal," she muttered almost bitterly. "C'mon, get changed, we'll meet him there."

"What do you mean, 'normal'?"

"What? Oh," her head shook as if realizing what she had just said. "No, it's - it's nothing, just," she winced slightly, "Felix is at every party."

"Really?" You asked softly. "We talk all the time on the phone, when does he even have time?"

"No offense, but it's not like he's a model student. He's constantly partying, I hear about it all the time from girls in class - "

"What do they say?"

"He's just popular - you know, he's Felix. And he's a regular at the pubs, too."

You had a weird feeling in your gut and chest, just nodding at Cassandra. "Well, at least he's enjoying himself," you offered meekly.

"Mhm, got that right," she snickered. "He's a legend 'round the university, even people in other colleges and programs know about him. Guess that's one way t'make an impression."

"Yeah, that's Felix for yah," you sighed. "Can I borrow an outfit?"

"What's wrong with that?" She paused, looking you up and down, then wincing, "Yeah, okay, I have options for you."

"Oh, don't sound so judgmental!" You laughed, "I just didn't pack party clothes, I didn't think we'd be going to any."

"You're so lucky to have me," she grinned at you, shoving through a rack of options in her wardrobe. "You wanna look classy slutty, spicy slutty, or just plain slutty-slutty?"

You hummed and chose the 'classy' option, being an open back black mini dress that clung to your figure and hiked up your thighs with every step. It felt exciting to be with Cassandra again, meeting your first year of secondary school and becoming the closest of friends; enduring family turmoil and social drama arm-in-arm. You listened to preppy pop music as you got ready; taking turns in the bathroom to finish your hair and make-up before slipping the dress on and latching the borrowed heels around your ankles.

When you gave her a look at your final outfit, she approved - claiming Felix would probably have a heart attack when he saw you.

"Wait!" You laughed, snatching a festive Santa Claus hat from the care package her parents sent; nestling it on your head. "Eh? Eh? Right? It's good!"

"Girl - "

"C'mon, it's festive!"

"You're lucky you're just so damn cute - it works," she grinned, tossing you your coat before shrugging into hers. "Hold on - you know the rules!" She halted you from opening the dorm door, holding up the bottle of tequila. "Shots before we leave!"

"Jesus, I've missed you," you laughed, taking the solo cup she held out; watching her pour enough for at least 2-3 shots.

"It'll keep us warm in the snow," she explained. "They not partying down at Edinburgh?"

"Not like here," you snickered, downing the drinks with a screwed up expression. "And they're all really preppy - like I thought Oxford had snobs, but Christ Almighty. My roommate down there literally had a panic attack when I bought a bottle of wine."

"Why?"

"She's American, said they're not allowed until they're 21."

"Wow... That's gotta suck for them," she downed her own shots. "Okay! You ready? Wait, are you wearing panties?"

"Yeah - "

"You can't in that dress."

"I'm not taking my panties off, Cass, let's just go!" You laughed, snatching her hand and leading her out of the dorm. "So, c'mon, tell me about the guy you're seeing," you requested, looping your arms together, trudging onto the snowy sidewalk.

"Oh, you mean Jason? Yeah, no, that's over. I just realized that being here is literally the only time in my life I'll have all these easy opportunities and there was no use in wasting my time dating just one person. And it eliminates the threat of cheating. Like... I don't hold my liquor all that well anymore and there's so many good looking people here! Why be in a relationship and run that risk, you know?"

You blinked at her, unsure what to say.

"Oh," she froze, "no, no, I didn't mean - no, look, dating in college is really cool when you know you're with the right person. And since you and Felix have been together for two years already, I think it's pretty safe to say he's the right one - right?"

"I think so... But I can't lie, I've been feeling kinda guilty, thinking Felix would prefer the opportunity to sow his wild oats instead of committing to us. You know? Like you said - "

"No, don't do that, you're gonna give yourself an aneurysm being stressed and upset," she hugged your arm tightly, continuing down the sidewalk. "Felix doesn't want t'be single, he would've bucked up the nerve to break up already. And you guys talk so often, he would've said something, right?"

You mused, "Not necessarily, Felix is used to having all he wants."

She shrugged off your words, "You're overthinking 'cause you're nervous to surprise him. But you're the best Christmas present, seriously. Made my day all the better."

You just smiled and skipped over the patch of ice in your way, nearly slipping, but Cassandra kept a tight hold on you - laughing loudly, your amused shrieks echoing around the brownstone buildings. When you arrived at the flat hosting the party, you climbed 2 flights of stairs without incident and let yourselves in; being greeted by strobe lights, thick clouds of smoke, and an abundance of drunken Oxford students.

It was packed - a welcomed sight after your past semester abroad, attending dinner parties with tart wines and classical music. You only had one more semester left before coming back to Oxford full time, and things just weren't the same being away; you missed the excitement, the parties, the friends you made. Granted, you had friends at Edinburgh, you often thought you could make friends anywhere, but you knew a lot of faces here. It was a comfort. And despite knowing you were here only a couple weeks until the next semester began again, it was still nice being back.

You were greeted by several people, being hugged happily and your cheeks kissed sloppily. They asked all about your program in Scotland, insisting you do rounds of shots with them, updating you on the juiciest gossip you missed.

They told you everything... Except what you should've known.

"Have you guys seen Felix?" You asked, glancing around the packed party. You noticed the uncomfortable looks exchanged, questioning, "What? What is it?"

"Uh, you know what?" Oliver Quick sighed, a new addition to the friend group that you didn't know - actually meeting for the first time tonight. "Yeah, yeah, saw him over there - on the sofa," he pointed somewhere behind you.

"Thanks, mate," you patted his shoulder, turning to push through the partygoers.

When you were gone, Farleigh turned to Oliver, "What the fuck was that? You know Felix is drunk off his tits and India's rubbing real close."

"So? Shouldn't she know someone's making moves on her man?" Oliver asked. "Not exactly fair - "

"It's not entirely fair to set Felix up like that," Farleigh sneered. "He misses her, so he drinks, flirts with girls. But he's not acting on it, you just want to get him in trouble, you fuckin' twat!"

Oliver shrugged, looking over in time to spy you approaching the couch. "He'll only get in trouble if he's acting on his impulses, being unfaithful," Ollie sneered.

When you made it through the crowd, you found Felix sitting on the couch, but what made you stop in your tracks was the little lady sat on his lap - a girl you recognized vaguely. Felix downed the shot being handed to him, grinning that stupid grin you adore, broad hands splayed on the girl's thigh as she curled into her chest with skinny arms wrapped around his neck. Her sticky lips whispered something in his ear, giving a small nibble that made your boyfriend laugh - always the ticklish type.

The alcohol you had already downed burned an angry hole in your gut, heart heavy with betrayal, feeling outrage at their audacity the longer you watched. You looked beside you and snatched the drink from a drunk guy, taking two dramatic strides up to them and without thought, launched the entire cup at the couple.

"You bitch!" India gasped, rocketing to her feet. Felix was about to yell himself, but when he looked up and registered your angry eyes glaring at him, he gaped in shock. "Seriously, what the fuck is your issue, slut?" India sneered, stamping her foot.

"Oh, fuck off, sweetheart," you snapped, "not like it's my boyfriend you're sitting on! Really wouldn't throw stones if I was you!"

Felix stood and pushed India to the side, "Baby - "

"Oh, spare me your fucking excuses, Felix! For Christ's sake! This is what you've been doing while I'm gone!? Huh!?"

"No - "

"Bullshit! Cass told me you're constantly partying, so is this what you do? Huh? Hang up the phone with me, come to these shitty parties, get shit faced, and take girls home before calling me in the morning? You even wait until they're gone before dialing my number?"

"Darling, I swear - nothing was happening, nothing was going to happen! I don't - "

"Well, not with us soaking wet!" India raged. "You're just a jealous hag, I mean, you're dating someone like Felix but I've never even seen you! Maybe if you were a better girlfriend, he wouldn't be looking elsewhere!"

"Jesus Christ, India! Fuck off - NOW!" Felix bellowed, shocking the girl. "You don't know a Goddamn thing you're saying, and you know you're too desperate - "

"Oh! So, you're moving in on 'desperate' girls 'cause they're easy, right?" You snapped. "She might be desperate, but you are fucking pathetic, Felix! I know you get everything you want, I know you don't know real consequences, but I don't have to add to that!"

"Let's just talk outside," he tried, looking more and more like a kicked puppy.

"I'm not going anywhere with you again. This isn't working, Felix, there's no way I can trust you - not when I've just seen - this!"

"Baby, it isn't - look, this isn't what it looks like! Okay? I know it looks bad, but I don't touch them - "

"There's more!? Of course, there's more - 'cause why have just one, right?"

He winced, "I just - listen, I only flirt, baby, I swear, but I-I know that's not much better. You bein' gone, I-I have this pent up energy - "

"Oh, the poor rich boy! Unsupervised without his girlfriend, so you think it's okay to flirt with other girls? Have them sit on your lap? Touch them? Flirt all night?"

"I know it sounds bad - "

"No, you know what?" You chuckled ruefully. "You two have fun, I'm out. I'm so fucking done with you, Felix, this relationship - it obviously isn't viable. So, have your skank, but make sure you get to a clinic. You obviously couldn't choose someone decent to cheat on me with, make sure she doesn't give you any STDs."

"What did you say, bitch!?" India tried to surge up to you, but Cassandra stepped in and shoved both her shoulders; sending her sprawling to the dirty, sticky floor.

"Watch yourself," she barked, dropping another drink on her and making India squeal. She glared at Felix and approached you, hushing, "You okay?"

"No."

"Let's get outta here," she nodded, wrapping you in her arms and leading the way out - not like she had to, students parted way like the Red Sea to let you two pass.

"Wait!" Felix rushed, grabbing his jacket and following you both out. Despite the heels, mini dresses, and alcohol, you and Cass were sober enough to scurry down the stairs and outside by the time he caught up. "Baby! Wait! Please, c'mon, let me explain!"

"You've done enough! I've seen enough!" You yelled back, Cass not stopping you two from making your escape. "Just fuck off back to your whores, Felix!"

"No, no," he rushed in front of you two, forcing you to stop. "Let me talk to you, please, you think it's worse than it is, I mean - "

"Awh, you think just touching other bitches isn't that bad?" Cass sneered. "Silly slut," she scoffed, rolling her pretty eyes.

"Cass, do you mind? This is between us," He sighed.

"Oh-ho, I very much mind," she rolled her eyes. "Grovel if you want, but I'm not leaving you two alone."

"I don't want to talk, Felix! For fuck's sake, I saw all I needed to. I'm literally killing myself slowly in Scotland, trying to secure my own future 'cause not all of us can be born into money - "

"Baby, that's not fair - "

" - And you're here, living your best life, being fucking deceitful, aren't you? Your girlfriend on the side and a full buffet of sluts to choose from - and nobody would know 'cause I wasn't in the fucking country! You know what?" You chuckled, "Thank you, actually. Thank you for proving what I feared the most and cutting us free. Better to know now than later when I'm far more invested. Enjoy your pick of the fucking litter, Felix, 'cause I'm removing myself from this equation, you're now free to do whatever you want - don't have to be such a gentleman anymore and just flirt with them."

"You're right, okay? You're right, I wasn't thinking, I was trying to - I don't even know! Have 'the college experience', I think, and I got carried away. I'm so sorry - "

"You're only sorry 'cause you got caught," Cass snapped.

"Ohk for fuck's sake - Cass, I love you and all, but do you mind if this stays between my girl and I?"

"Oh, so you inviting all that female attention was 'keeping it between you'?" She cocked her head, rolling her eyes. "C'mon, babe, let's go. You don't need to hear his pathetic whinging anymore."

"Think you're right," you sniffled from the cold. "Bye, Felix."

"Please - let's just talk about this!"

"No more talking!" You barked. "You don't need to defend yourself, I saw her with you - I don't need your excuses! This is over, Felix, just - for God's sake, fuck off, already!"

He froze, never hearing such aggressive words from you before. In the years you were friends and the two you've dated, you hadn't so much as raised your voice at him - even when upset. To hear such profanity at this level shocked him. He's heard you yell, but usually at other people; he's heard you curse, but typically from excitement. He felt overwhelmed watching Cassandra walk you away under her arm, the tears surfacing and his confusion blinding; wondering how the hell he had managed to fuck everything up THIS bad.

When you got back to her dorm, you were a wreck and Cassandra wasn't sure how to start comforting you. She watched you slide to the floor in tears and squatted to take your shoes off, set the bottle of tequila beside you, and then got comfortable on the ground, too. She stretched her arm around your shoulders, sighing sadly, and just held you when you sobbed uselessly into her neck.

No amount of crying would change the past. No amount of frustration or self-pity would help. No amount of regret would turn back time and prevent you from leaving your very attractive boyfriend to the mercy of Oxford sluts.

After an hour of just crying, Cassandra perked up and asked, "You wanna stay the night here or go to your sister's?"

"Felix knows where your dorm is," you sniffled, mascara down your cheeks and chin. "Maybe we should go?"

"You want me to come, too?"

"I don't want to be alone..."

"Lemme pack real fast," she agreed, leaving you on the floor to drink until you felt numb while she raced around to prepare a duffel bag. When she was finished, she hoisted you from the ground and took her car keys, shouldering your own duffel, and leading you out of the dorms. On your way to student parking, neither of you were surprised to find Felix sprinting in your direction.

"Baby! Wait, wait, wait! Please!" He begged, barely slowing down and literally skidding to a halt, nearly slipping on ice. "Just - please, let me talk to you. I-I can't let you leave thinking I fucked those girls - "

"Oh, just go fuck yourself, Felix!" You laughed.

"Is she drunk?" He asked Cass in mild shock.

"Do you know a better way to deal with a break up?" She rolled her eyes.

"We're not broken up - "

"I heard otherwise," she sneered. "You're not used to losing, Felix, but the rest of us, on Earth, know when a relationship is over."

"I made a mistake!" He pleaded loudly.

"Just one?" You snapped.

"No, you know what? I've made a few, but I swear, nothing fucking happened! Not with any of them!"

"Oh," you mocked, snickering to Cassandra.

"Just give me a chance - "

"I did," you interrupted sadly. "I gave you all the chances, Felix, and you still chose to betray me. So, you know what? I just need time to digest your bullshit betrayal, and in order to do that, I literally can't be around you."

"How will you know how sorry I am?"

"I know, I can see it - just like I saw that bitch on your lap," you scoffed. "Can we go now?"

"C'mon, babe," Cass agreed.

"Go? Go where?" He rushed, looking panicked.

"Away from you!" You laughed, holding onto your friends arm tightly as you wobbled in her borrowed shoes.

"At least let me help you - "

"Don't need help from a slut!" You shouted to the sky, not stopping.

Felix Catton was left standing in the snow, his heart walking away from him in heels too high.

And when you got to your sister's flat, Cassandra raided the fridge and brought you ice cream and pretzels - for something both sweet and salty. For the rest of the night, you cried while stuffing your face, but whatever it was worth, at the very least, you had your best friend there to wipe your tears.

Well, after a gut wrenching Christmas break, you went back to Scotland to finish an anticlimactic semester at one of the world's most prestigious universities. Without Felix to call, you dedicated more time to studying, which paid off, because by the end, you received the highest marks in your college and earned multiple letters of recommendations from well-respected professors.

But now that the year abroad was over, you were set to return to Oxford for the next three weeks to report back to your program chairs and give them an update. Suddenly, it was like the entire semester of avoiding your feelings about Felix caught up to you the moment you boarded the plane. You had stuffed your emotions deep down, ignored his morning and evening phone calls (yes, he still called everyday), and tried your hand at dating other people - but it wasn't the same. You hated that you missed him so much, but you figured you had more self-respect than to belittle yourself for a man.

A beautiful, kind, generous man... Who made a mistake... Who demonstrated remorse... Who understands what he did was wrong and hurtful... And your Daddy did raise you to 'forgive and forget'. But still, you had a difficult time forgiving Felix in full, and therefore, couldn't forget what he did.

The betrayal was still so fresh and you couldn't stomach the idea of even speaking to him. So, you decided to avoid him by any means.

When you returned to England, it was drearier than normal. Your sister wasn't able to pick you up this time, figuring you would just hail a cab when someone laid on their horn in a long, continuous, obnoxious beep. When you looked over, Cassandra was waving at you rapidly through her window.

With an easy grin, you rushed over to her car and tossed the few bags you had into the backseat before getting in the passenger seat. "What're you doing here?" You gasped, leaning in to hug your friend.

She returned your affection enthusiastically, then was pushing you off, "Bitch, I'm double parked in the red - we gotta go!" You laughed when she rushed off, heading back to Oxford as she explained, "But you said on the phone your sister wasn't getting you, so I took the liberty of reading between the lines."

"No, I didn't mean it like that - "

"I know you didn't," she grinned, "but I just wanted to get you to campus all the faster, I've missed you!"

"We have three weeks together before the start of summer," you reminded. "Ready for exams?"

"Hardly," she scoffed. "Enough of that! Tell me all about Scotland!"

You spent the rest of the car ride without a single thought spent on Felix - all too appreciative for friends. Until you got back to the dorms, that is. You'd been there all of an hour before there was a knock at the door and when Cassandra opened it, she glanced up and down the hall in confusion, not seeing anyone - but a bouquet of flowers caught her attention.

"Well, this is cute," she mused, picking up the flowers from the floor and closing the door. "Someone left flowers? Ew, bet they're from Jason - he's been begging me to get back together."

You didn't bother reminding her they were the same Felix always sent you. You just nodded and said they must've indeed been for her since nobody knew when you were coming back. Yet something in your stomach churned, knowing this was no coincidence, you knew they were from Felix, and the idea made you oddly... Warm.

You didn't want to be touched by the small gesture, but it was sweet. Reminded you of the good times between you and Fi. You felt your guts twist, realizing how much you missed him. None the less, you never said a word.

The following day was as normal as it could've been. People were looking both happy to see you and exhausted from prep work before final exams. You understood, having completed yours; all that was left was to write up a report to your dean and other department heads and present it. You spent your days in the library while everyone was in class, and while there, you were surprised to see Felix hunched over a set of books.

You didn't approach him, just chose a separate table and got comfortable. You were in the zone for a solid hour before a shadow loomed over you, making you jump when a hand met your shoulder. "Sorry, sorry," Felix rushed, hands held in defense. "Just thought I'd give you this - you seemed really focused."

You blinked when he set a blueberry muffin down. The gesture made you smile, "You remembered?"

For every study session, you had a blueberry muffin to munch on.

"'Course I do," he nodded rapidly. "Remember everything about you, love. And these were always your favorite, right?"

"Yeah," you breathed. "Uh, thanks, Fi, this was nice of you."

"Seemed really focused, wanted to make sure you ate," he half-smiled. "I didn't mean to interrupt, uh, j-just wanted t'say good luck on your presentation."

Your heart clenched when he walked away back to his table, not once looking up at you as he worked. He really only meant to give you the muffin, which surprised you - Felix was terribly persistent, and for some reason, you actually felt sad that he wasn't vying for your attention or forgiveness.

This felt like a reality check, reminding you that you were truly broken up. So, you just sniffled and focused again, nibbling on the muffin as you revised your report. You hated the tension, the distance, the disturbing idea that while gone, he had been with countless other girls. You especially hated that you began regretting leaving for a year, feeling as if you created this situation by leaving room for Felix to seek attention elsewhere.

You knew it wasn't the truth - this wasn't your fault. You weren't the one who decided to implode your relationship, to be unfaithful in the least bit; and seeking higher educational opportunity wasn't grounds for anyone to cheat. It felt entirely unfair; you were in the same position as Felix, alone in another country, missing your friends and family, and yet, YOU never sought attention - emotional or physical - in any way from anyone else.

You at least had a sense of loyalty. But at the same time, you tried to validate that this was "the best years of your lives" and Felix was a young, hot, rich boy. Why wouldn't he bask in the attention of others? He always had and it felt wrong to crucify him for being a lad with hormones.

You began to wonder, did you overreact? Of course you didn't!

But you missed him immensely.

For the three weeks left in the semester, Felix would leave flowers at your dorm room, brought you little treats, never impeded on your space, and just made himself known without being overwhelming. You thought it was endearing without giving him too much credit after his betrayal. For three weeks, he was sweet, kind, soft spoken, and from what you understood, turned reclusive - refusing any party invitation, even backing out of pub meetings.

He wasn't hanging with friends, drinking, distracted with girls. According to local gossip, if you could put stock into the words, this new behavior started right after Christmas; after your very public break-up.

You were mildly intrigued by his change of attitude, but didn't confront it. You felt distance was necessary for healing, yet there was no denying your love that still festered - and maybe, the idea that Felix was truly remorseful and loved you, too.

It all came to a cultivation on the day of your presentation. To say you were nervous was an understatement - pacing the entire night before, going over what you were going to say, making final revisions; driving Cassandra up the wall, but she was still supportive.

That morning, she left early for her own ventures, but made sure to help you pick out an outfit. It was something smart, it complimented your figure in a professional manner and made you feel powerful and like a "real" adult.

You packed your bag and walked to your college's lecture hall, getting there about 20 minutes early to set up your materials and run through your notes one last time. When your dean and other professors entered to settle in their seats at the front, you heard the upper backdoor open. When you looked up, you were shocked - like, actually shocked - to see Felix sitting up there with Cassandra, Farleigh, your parents and sister.

You tried not to dwell on their presence, but suddenly, knowing Felix was there to support you, you didn't feel so nervous anymore. Something about his viewing of your final project made you a little more confident, quelling your nausea as you cleared your throat and started your oral presentation that had a guided visual and 20-page report.

When you finished, you were grinning. Your deans applauded you, and from the back, so did your friends and family; in fact, Felix was on his feet, clapping with vigor. You handed over the flash-drive that housed your visuals and then your bound essay report, shaking the professors hands, and letting them leave.

When you turned, your family had descended the auditorium stairs and your friends were trailing after.

"Oh, you brilliant girl!" Your father gushed, wrapping you in a huge hug. "My perfect, most special girl! That was amazing!"

"Thanks, Daddy," you giggled. "What're you guys doing here?"

"Oh, Felix called," your mother informed, petting hair off your shoulder in a calming motion. "Glad he did, we're so proud of you."

"I didn't even know peers could sit in," you admitted.

"Apparently, they're not, but you know, Felix has a way with rules," your father sighed, shaking his head in amusement. "Thank God you got your mother's intelligence, fear you'd be shit outta luck if you had mine, eh?"

This triggered a round of other compliments from your loved ones; sister and Cassandra both beaming at you in pride, everyone offering their compliments on specific sections of your presentation to prove they really, truly had been listening. You felt bashful, waving them off out of embarrassment, and then you agreed to attend dinner for a celebration - your mother informing you that the summer would be spent in a French villa and details were to be discussed at the meal. But first, you noticed Felix still sitting high up in the lecture hall and promised you meet everyone at the dorm later.

When the hall cleared, you sighed and slowly made your way up to where Felix lingered; his form fidgeting nervously the closer you got. You dropped to the seat beside him with a deep sigh, ready to confront everything, when he offered a decently large bouquet of familiar flowers. "Congrats, love," he whispered. "Was really well-done, even if I didn't know half of what you were sayin'."

You accepted the flowers, petting the petals gingerly, then asking in a low whisper, "Felix?"

"Yeah, love?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"I know how important this was for you, I asked them all to come so we could support you, knowin' you were nervous - "

"No," you interrupted, turning in your seat to face him. "Why'd you have to go and ruin us? Why wasn't I enough?"

He swallowed thickly, "It wasn't you that wasn't enough."

"Huh?"

"Think I felt insecure," he admitted. "You were at Edinburgh, bettering yourself and I think I got scared that you'd love it there so much, you know, that... You'd leave. Leave Oxford, leave England, leave... Me. So, I just... I don't have any excuse, honestly, love. I know I fucked up, but I think my fear was being projected in the worst way..."

You nodded, "Do you regret it?"

"Every fuckin' day."

"Any plans for tonight?"

"What?" He blinked in shock.

"You wanna come to dinner with us? I mean, you went through the trouble of gettin' everyone here - and I know you must've bribed someone to let them watch."

His cheeks reddened, chuckling nervously, "It wasn't... I didn't... All right, yeah, I had to pay off the custodian - he unlocked the door for us."

"Mhm," you smirked. "So? Dinner?"

"Are you sure?"

You nodded, "You made a mistake... A huge one, but a mistake none the less. We've had time apart, and I've learned, I don't want to be without you. My life is far more interesting with you in it and I feel less alone. So, if you want, I'd like for you to come to dinner with us, maybe work on our friendship again. See where things go?"

"As long as you're okay with it."

"I'm the one inviting you, yes, I'm okay with it," you chuckled at his nerves, standing, and offering your hand. "C'mon, Mum says we're spending the summer in France - maybe we can convince her to invite you, too."

"Doubt Cassandra would let that happen," Felix mused, shouldering his bag and taking your hand - instantly lacing your fingers together.

"Oh, on the contrary, she might like it; it'd give her something to do."

"What's that? Makin' me her personal punching bag?"

"Exactly," you grinned, squeezing his hand.

"Hey," he paused you before you could exit the auditorium, looking sadder than when his dog died; bottom lip gently trembling. "I just... I need you t'know, I'm really fuckin' sorry, love. I was an absolute idiot, I fucked this up - broke your trust. I regret nothing more, I was such a fuckin' arsehole, and I don't want to be without you, either. I realized I'm not myself without you, that me without you doesn't feel right - "

"Hey," you halted his rambling, "I can't tell you it's okay, Fi, because it's not, but your atonement is appreciated. We've been friends for so long, I don't think I want to walk away entirely - so, let's just go slow and figure our shit out." He nodded in agreement, letting you lead the way, smirking when you cheekily told him, "Mh, bit of advice though? You could try to get in good graces by payin' for dinner tonight."

"Done and done," he eased, releasing your hand to hang his arm around your shoulders, and just like old times, you raised your hand to lace with his, other wrapping around his waist. The smile didn't fall from Felix's face all night, and by the end of the night, had arranged to stay with your family that summer - Oliver Quick and what could've been a summer at Saltburn far from his mind.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

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