#still motivated curious and hopeful somehow

[lunaprincipessa]

ENTRY 230

My sleep schedule is screwed. Thankfully, I have time to fix it. In the meantime, I'm attempting to get myself reorganized, my personal life reprioritized, and whatever else I need to do to make preparations for this next chapter of life.

Since the dispensary closed down, I've taken advantage of the time I have by doing things like getting my credentials in order for my job search (everything got approved) and spending more time with my son.

One thing that I've noticed though is just how fucking exhausted and slow I was, am, if I'm being honest. It has taken every bit of this past two weeks to catch up on sleep and life in general. Speaking of which...

I can't believe how tired and sore I've been even after the extra rest, and I also can't believe how badly I fell behind on everything in my life even after the extra time off following the closing. Still catching up.

I'm coming back to me and my self-care, but the aftermath of pushing myself too hard for too long makes it a bit of a task.

My former coworker, who was run ragged by our old boss for years, is still recovering as well and she quit a month before we closed down. No surprise there though. She said the anxiety attacks suddenly stopped. Clear connection there, seems like anyway.

I'm happy to be free of that workload and schedule but how long is this whole recovery process gonna take? I don't wanna wait to look for work much longer but I don't wanna start a new job drained either.

Maybe things will feel like they're going back to normal once I get further into self-care. But for now, I'm beyond exhausted but I can't sleep. I'm also ready to get shit done but am facing mental paralysis more than before at the same time.

I never give up and I always keep going. That's not gonna change. But hey Universe, I wouldn't mind the fight for survival ending so I can live a little bit. Seems like the fight for survival has just changed faces and labels over the years. I'm ready for it to stop so I can live life like everyone else. Just gonna ride and write it out until then. That's all I can do. More thoughts later.

[sunderwight]

TSCTIR-inspired SVSSS AU.

Shen Yuan was just a regular (ehhh kind of) nerd when the invasions began, monsters and dungeons started showing up, and people started "awakening" as RPG-style superheroes with special abilities, enhanced strength/speed/etc, and ranked classifications.

Shen Yuan's older brother awakens as S-classes. His younger sister awakens as an S-class. Shen Yuan?

F-class.

Of course, chronically ill Shen Yuan told himself he wasn't really expecting any different. But there have been people who have awakened as higher classes despite their own lifelong health problems or disabilities, and in many cases awakening cured them, and so he'd hoped...

Well. It doesn't matter what he'd hoped.

The worst part isn't even that he's not some badass dungeon-delver himself (even though he is wildly curious about all the strange monsters and beasts and demons that have been turning up), the worst part is that his siblings have all but left him in the dust. They aren't just busy, he can tell that they've increasingly been avoiding him, until virtually the only time they speak to him is when they catch him trying to go into a dungeon again and then yell at him about it.

(Of course, his siblings have been increasingly aware of the danger SY is in whenever he's in proximity to them, but no one ever accused the Shen family of having strong communication skills...)

Nonetheless, if there is some possible way for Shen Yuan to increase his rank, he won't find it staying at home. And there are too many mysteries to investigate to just keep himself out of it, even if that would be more sensible. So, Shen Yuan arranges to be on various low-level dungeon teams. Often among the more questionable, misguided ones being attempted by the newly-awakened or by people who are just desperate to try and get some kind of windfall. Dungeons are dangerous, but a lucky item drop can still make someone more money in a minute than they could otherwise earn in a year. It's through these jobs that Shen Yuan meets fellow F-class Shang Qinghua, whose motives for entering the dungeons are definitely more financial than academic.

This is also how Shen Yuan ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time, in a dungeon that has suddenly gone from low-level to a high-level boss, fleeing for his life. Just when it seems like he's about to become mincemeat, his older brother (Shen Jiu) shows up and takes on the dungeon boss. But it's too much for a lone S-class, even one as determined and vicious as SJ, and Shen Yuan can only watch in horror as his brother is killed by the terrifyingly powerful and weirdly beautiful Heavenly Demon Boss.

But the reason SY survived the initial assault, when no one else did, is thanks to his hidden ability. Which temporarily grants him the powers of anyone he has a bond with who has just died, x2. Previously, he had his bacon saved by Shang Qinghua's traumatic death, and when Shen Jiu dies, SY gains enough power to actually take down this mysterious Heavenly Demon boss.

It's a hollow victory. His brother is dead. His friend is dead. Even the boss monster seems inexplicably tragic to him somehow.

And why did SJ show up anyway? Between his siblings, Shen Yuan thought that his brother had grown the most distant from him, that he even hated him now! Why couldn't he have just... stayed away...?

Despite the traumatic horror of these events, killing the boss monster grants Shen Yuan a boon. It isn't a "raise people from the dead" boon, but it does permit time travel! In fact it seems kind of emphatic on that point, like something has gone really horribly wrong with reality and the world is struggling to hold itself together now somehow. Though that could also just be because Shen Yuan's world is struggling to hold itself together...?

Regardless, this new entity called "the system" refuses to let Shen Yuan go back to a point in time before he awakened, or before the dungeons appeared. But he can go back to a point before his brother died, which is definitely good enough. Accept, accept! Who has time to read the terms & conditions? Whatever it is he'll deal with it! Just send him as far back in time as he can go!

As such, Shen Yuan's memories are sent back five years in time. Along with him go a bunch of weird new unlocked abilities, and the system menu, which demands he fulfill certain tasks and complete certain quests as a stipulation of the time travel boon. Succeed, and he gets more rewards to help him keep himself and his loved ones alive. Fail, and he'll be rebooted back to the bad ending, except to the moment before the Heavenly Demon boss died but without any of his power boosts.

So maybe Shen Yuan should have read the fine print.

Though, even if he had, he still would have made the same choice.

Back five years in the past, he's got some thinking to do. Five years is a decent chunk of time. His siblings have both awoken, and begun distancing themselves from him, but their positions are still pretty different. Shen Jiu and his childhood friend Yue Qi had a falling-out over something (they wouldn't say what) at this point in time. Shen Jiu signed on with the Qiu Collective, one of the initial rich adventuring guilds that hired people to go into dungeons. But the Qiu Collective was corrupt even by the standards of a lot of dungeon-oriented corporations, and though Shen Yuan was never made privy to the details, he knew they mistreated Shen Jiu badly and that there were a lot of investigations. The collective ultimately went under when their office was destroyed by a rogue rampaging monster, after an undiscovered dungeon opened nearby. Dungeons that open but aren't found are especially dangerous, as the threat levels will steadily increase without anyone to clear them out, until the result is a dungeon break -- monsters escaping the dungeon and emerging in the normal world, causing havoc and Godzilla-style rampages.

According to the official reports, that was what caused the destruction of the Qiu Collective's head office and the death of their CEO.

Yue Qi, on the other hand, joined the Cang Qiong guild, which had fared a little better over the five year span. Yue Qi eventually even took over the guild, and after the Qiu Collective went under, Shen Jiu made up with him enough to join him there. Shen Yuan had hoped they would reconcile and maybe even answer some of his calls, but things remained strained between all of them even afterwards.

Shen Ying, his little sister, was sheltered and trained by their older brother until she was old enough to join Cang Qiong as well, but despite being S-rank, her youth and inexperience kept her more on the sidelines. Shen Yuan had thought they might bond over being kept out of the loop, but his last conversation with his sister had made it clear that as far as she was concerned, he was still world's away from her level.

(Read: Shen Ying told him he should keep away from dangerous things, was clumsy about it, and unwittingly fed some of Shen Yuan's worst insecurities.)

On top of that, though, was another consideration:

Luo Binghe.

Among the guilds that could rival Cang Qiong five years hence, the biggest one was Demon Path. Luo Binghe would start out as a member of Cang Qiong guild, recruited shortly after awakening. Shen Yuan had thought he was pretty cool, actually, but there was some bad blood between Luo Binghe and Shen Jiu, and it got bad enough that when Luo Binghe made his solo break he got Shen Jiu embroiled in some kind of legal investigation (something about the wrongful death of another guild member) on his way out. Demon Realm and Cang Qiong remained thoroughly at odds afterwards, and things only got worse when Demon Realm surpassed Cang Qiong's count of S-rank members, and conducted a successful merger with Huan Hua guild. That is, until Luo Binghe just mysteriously vanished altogether from the public eye.

Though Luo Binghe of course wasn't the dungeon boss that actually killed Shen Jiu, he had certainly been trying to destroy him before Shen Yuan reset the timeline.

But going five years back in time... Luo Binghe had been a prodigy, the youngest to become a guild leader. Five years hence, he'd be around twenty years old.

Which means that right now, thanks to the rewind, he is fourteen or fifteen years old and hasn't even awakened yet.

It would be possible to take him out of the equation altogether.

Then, there's Liu Qingge. An S-rank who died in a dungeon under suspicious circumstances, which provided the crux of the investigation into Shen Jiu. He and Shen Jiu had also never gotten along, although once again no one had confided the details to him. Shen Yuan refused to believe that his brother had actually murdered Liu Qingge, though. If Shen Jiu was going to murder someone he'd be a lot less obvious about it.

But it would probably be better if Liu Qingge didn't die at all.

Lastly, there's the matter of Shang Qinghua.

According to Shen Yuan's mental math, Shang Qinghua won't have awoken his abilities yet either. Five years into the future, extensive research and several regrettable moves on the part of various governments and guilds would reveal that even though it was supposedly impossible to increase someone's rank after awakening, how a person awoke their abilities could have a great deal of impact on their rank.

Shang Qinghua was a textbook example of a bad awakening. His skills were mostly oriented towards stealth and item drop bonuses, but his awakening had been violent, prompted by a shady center that promised people an avenue to adventure and riches only to use mortal terror to trigger the awakening process. Being in extreme danger would work fine for those with combat skills, but wasn't so good for everyone else. A lot of people had their awakening stunted by such early methods, which were not only a bad way to go about it but also traumatic to boot.

Shen Yuan has a suspicion that someone like Shang Qinghua would actually be incredibly valuable for stealth missions and item farming, if only he'd awoken at full potential. Instead, he'd struggled to make anything of his abilities due to his lack of durability or access to the kind of high-level items that would compensate for it.

Gathering all this foresight, Shen Yuan sets about altering the future to protect his siblings.

Step one: find Luo Binghe.

Shen Yuan's initial thought was to just kind of, nudge Luo Binghe towards something different from Cang Qiong altogether. Maybe if he started out with Huan Hua guild, he could contain all his trouble there. But when he finds him, Binghe is in a bad situation. The kid's living in foster care with abusive caretakers, his adoptive mother has recently died, and he's waiting tables and picking up trash instead of going to school. His clothes are threadbare, he's too skinny, and he looks like he's been beaten.

Between a rocky introduction and an attack from a Moon Python Rhinoceros thanks to a nearby dungeon break, Shen Yuan manages to convince Luo Binghe to hire him as his agent (fee = 0% of all Binghe's dungeon earnings plus 0% from contracts), and determinedly takes over. The System seems to wildly approve of it.

Creepy. And suspicious.

But Binghe is actually a total sweetheart, as it happens, to the point where Shen Yuan can't imagine what inspired the enmity between him and Shen Jiu. This kid truly is a diamond in the rough. He just needed a little help and some actual guidance, that's all!

With Binghe on the road to a less antagonistic fate, the next most chronologically urgent item on the list is Shang Qinghua. Shen Yuan has a new ability that lets him awaken people to their full potential, and his chosen guinea pig is his own formerly deceased bro. Somehow, awakening Shang Qinghua's abilities ends up involving a near-miss with rescuing him from debt collectors, and running into (and rescuing) the S-class Mobei Jun, who had joined Demon Realm as Luo Binghe's subordinate back in the original timeline.

It's actually quite fortuitous, though, because Shang Qinghua's treasure-hunter and stealth abilities are best suited to him being accompanied by a high-ranking hunter who can pick up the physical slack. Shen Yuan had been thinking that at least awakening Shang Qinghua as a D-rank would make him durable enough to handle some dungeons without turning to sketchy organizations for back-up, but with Mobei Jun, the ice prince can ferry the man right to the most valuable loot!

Shen Yuan's on a roll!

He discovers that some of his new abilities have utility as beast-taming skills, and tackles several dungeons successfully with the help of Luo Binghe, Shang Qinghua, and Mobei Jun. They even manage to rescue A-class Sha Hualing from a sticky situation, and Shen Yuan learns that his abilities can, in fact, help other awakened level up their own rank (previously believed impossible). With enough of his influence, Sha Hualing could become S-rank one day.

But of course, it can't be too easy.

When Shen Yuan moves to intervene with the dungeon break that wiped out the Qiu Collective, and seemed to start all the controversies against his brother, he instead finds that there is no dungeon at all. Yet, clearly some kind of attack on the building is underway.

He finds out why when he comes across his brother in a fugue state, murdering his way through his own guild.

Turns out, most S-ranks creep people out. Most average people can barely tolerate being around them even before they awaken. But afterwards? Their oppressive auras and sheer strength tend to trigger everyone's flight-or-fight reflex. Shen Yuan never noticed, because he's grown up surrounded by S-ranks his whole life. Even upon watching Shen Jiu kill the Qiu members, Shen Yuan's chief source of upset is that they were apparently treating his brother so badly that they inspired a murder spree from someone ordinarily much more calculating and clever than that.

Apparently, Shen Yuan should have been taking the opportunity to move against them a lot sooner, rather than just mitigating the whole supposed dungeon-break disaster and then investigating after. His own fault. He thought that keeping his distance would help his siblings, but clearly, letting them hoard their secrets and do whatever they think is best isn't the way to go either.

Does he even know what's really happening with his sister? Or to Yue Qi over at Cang Qiong? At this point in time, his friend had stopped contacting him altogether for several months in a row. When he came back, he was definitely more subdued and even more distant than he had been before. And that's the same guild that Shen Jiu and Shen Ying will eventually join as well, presumably with its own skeletons packed into the closet.

Shen Yuan's going to have to adjust a lot of his plans, it seems.

But first -- he's got a murder spree to help cover up, and an older brother to take home and, uh. Calm down. Or something?

Damn. Maybe Shen Jiu did kill Liu Qingge on purpose. He's going to have to thoroughly figure that situation out too, if he wants to handle it right...

[steddiealltheway]

Steve refuses to tell the kids his middle name. He’s fights them off after El figures out that middle names are a thing and demands everyone to tell her if they have one. And usually when it comes to El, Steve gives in immediately. But he just knows this information will come back to bite him in the ass. So he refuses.

But then they go to Nancy trying to pry the information out of her, but she reveals that she has no idea what it is - ouch but what a relief. Next up is Robin who also reveals she has no idea, and then she joins in on trying to get it out of him.

With the girls on their side, Steve is slightly terrified, but still unwilling to give up the information. He thinks they’ll let it go… but then they’re showing up at his house suspiciously only for Steve to find out that they’re trying to find his birth certificate. That’s when Eddie gets roped into things.

And the thing about Eddie is that he’s curious of course. What could Steve’s middle name possibly be which is so horrendous he won’t even tell Robin? But he respects the man’s privacy. If he wants to keep it to himself then so be it… But Eddie wants to know.

So he starts developing his own plans - without telling the kids or the girls. He thinks getting Steve drunk or high off his ass is probably a bit too manipulative. But maybe he can gain the guy’s trust.

So he starts coming along, pretending like he’s going to help as the kids dig and dig for the information. Steve is always somehow there, even when the kids start looking through the records at the library because some of them needed a ride. But Eddie sticks with Steve, talking to him about anything other than his name - the kids are convinced that Eddie is doing a great job distracting Steve.

And maybe he is, but he slowly forgets any type of ulterior motives when he’s talking to Steve. It’s a blessing and a curse being in the presence of the man.

But then it happens. Steve casually invites Eddie to hang out sometime, and that’s exactly when Eddie will bring up the middle name thing.

When the day comes, Eddie finds himself thoroughly distracted by Steve’s thigh which is pressing against his while they watch a movie. And there’s a large space next to Steve on the couch, but he chose to sit where his is now. It’s a big deal really.

“I’m gonna grab a Coke, do you want anything?”

Eddie asks for a Coke as well, hoping it serves as something to ground him as he hangs out alone with Steve Something Harrington. That’s the moment he remembers the plan. Shit, he’s supposed to be asking him stuff that casually leads to the reveal of his middle name. Easy.

No it isn’t. How the hell is he going to… Eddie glances at the coffee table in front of them to find… Steve’s wallet. Steve’s wallet containing his driver’s license. Steve’s wallet containing his driver’s license containing his full government name.

Oh this is good. This is really good. How have the kids not managed to think of this yet?

Eddie quickly snatches the wallet, opening it to find the driver’s license in a clear pocket. Okay, time to finally learn what’s been gnawing at his brain for days now, and then he’ll never have to tell Steve about it. Ever.

He squints his eyes and reads the name. Then he rereads it. Then he rereads it again.

Steven Edward Harrington

“Edward?!” Eddie yells, cringing at the fact he’s saying his government name.

Steve races into the room, two Cokes in hand and eyes wide as can be. Eddie doesn’t even have time to hide the wallet or any evidence of what he’s been doing. Well. Shit.

“Of course you were on their side,” Steve sighs, a look of betrayal crosses his face. Eddie’s gut twists.

“No, no. Okay, I’ll admit that I was curious, but I was going to find out and just put that secret away in my brain forever. But is my name really so bad?”

Steve turns a bit red as he admits, “I wasn’t hiding it for that reason.”

“Then what are you hiding it for?”

“Because… because…” He sets the two soda cans down with a thud before blurting out, “I thought you’d be making a bigger deal out of it! I thought the kids would make jokes about me having your name. Or you would tell me something along the lines of ‘You already have my middle name, why not take me last name?’ And I was not prepared to deal with that!” Steve rushes out, a hand runs through his hair before he settles his hands on his hips.

That… definitely wasn’t what Eddie was expecting but he can’t help but flirt, “You’re putting words in my mouth, sweetheart, but I can say them if you’d like.”

Steve sighs and points at him. “Exactly that! It just makes me get feel so…”

Eddie tenses up and quietly questions, “Disgusted?”

“Flustered!” Steve replies instantly.

It takes him a moment to process, but then Eddie is standing up and making his way over to Steve with a smile. “I make Steven Edward Harrington flustered?”

Steve rolls his eyes but the small smile and blush rising to his cheeks give him away. “I’m going to change my name,” Steve states.

“And take my last name?” Eddie teases, and Steve lightly shoves at him.

“Buy me dinner first, Edward.”

“How about a kiss first?” Eddie asks with an obnoxiously large grin. It’s immediately wiped when Steve leans in, and Eddie’s eyes flutter shut.

“I’m not that easy,” Steve whispers so close that his lips brush against Eddie’s before he pulls away. “Come on, let’s finish the movie.”

When Eddie’s feet are able to move again, he finds himself sitting even closer to Steve than before, but this time Steve’s hand curling around his is the most distracting thing besides the thought that Steven Edward Munson has a nice ring to it.

[liliacamethyst]

just curious if there's an extra angsty alternative drabbles because i love ur work ! like in a scenario where sun-spider isn't able to care for herself because the pregnancy is taking a toll on her or she got extremely ill OR EVEN GETTING EXTREMELY injured during a mission and lets say the gang is too caught up with spider society business to check on her, how would miguel react then?

ill leave the actual state of sun-spider in your hands 🤭

A LETTER FROM THE SUN

Thank you so much for your request, I really liked your idea- So here's an extra , extra ANGSTY (trigger warning) alternative universe Drabble. I got a little bit carried away I really hope you still enjoy it 💚:

You can barely see through the spots dancing before your eyes as you stagger back to your apartment on Earth 586. You don't remember the walk home from the doctor's office but somehow, you made it back. The weight of the doctor's words still echo in your ears, "The childbirth... It's too dangerous. You won't survive."

It's not that you're not scared; you are, very much so. But more than that, you're filled with a fierce determination - for your child and for the world you've sworn to protect. And so, you put your mask, pull on your suit, and step into the battle once more, fighting harder than you ever have before.

But behind the brave facade, you're struggling. You're tired, your energy gone by the demands of your pregnancy and your duty as Spider-Sun. You're having to deal with the pains and discomforts that come with carrying a child, exacerbated by the unrelenting strain of your battles.

You retreat to Earth 586, hoping to find some solace and respite in your own universe. But instead, your responsibilities there seem to compound your exhaustion. There are still threats to confront, villains to vanquish, innocents to save. You're fighting two wars at the same time - one for your world, and one for your life.

The spider society is oblivious to your struggles. They are wrapped up in their own missions and agendas, too absorbed in saving the multiverse to notice your quiet battle for survival. The absence of concern from the team feels like a sting, a bitter pill to swallow, yet you say nothing, because you understand. So you hide your pain behind your bright smile and valiant spirit, because that's what you do best.

Still, as the days pass, your condition worsens. Your constant fatigue, the severe sickness and the frequent fainting spells- all signs that are hard to ignore. You're well aware that your body is pushing its limits but the love you have for your child growing inside of you keeps you from giving up. You've always fought against the odds, and you're not about to stop now - not when the stakes are that. Higher than they've ever been before.

You're fighting for two now, and that's all the motivation you need to keep going. You're ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for your child. And you'll face it with all the courage and determination that make you Spider-Sun.

-

Miguel, Gwen, Peter B, and Jess are on a mission in your Earth - Earth 586. It's been months since they've seen you, and Gwen and Peter are buzzing with excitement. Even Miguel, who maintains his stoic façade as always, has a glint in his eyes that hints at anticipation and excitement of the prospect of seeing his love again.

As they land, Gwen looks around, taking in the familiar surroundings of your world. "I can't believe it's been so long," she remarks, a hint of guilt in her voice. "We got so caught up in everything..."

Peter B chimes in, "Yeah, Sunny is gonna give us an earful for sure. I'm surprised she hasn't come to give us a welcome smack yet." His playful remark hangs in the air and everybody silently agrees.

They're here to deal with an anomaly, a Lizard-like opponent. Yet, as the fight breaks out, Peter can't help but wonder why you aren't here. This is your world, your neighborhood, your people. You're always there, ready to protect and serve. So where are you?

"Miguel!" Peter B shouts over the sounds of the fight. "Why isn't Sunny here? This is her world! Where is she?"

The fight ends sucessfully, with Jess instructed by Miguel to take the captive Lizard back to HQ. There's a tension in Miguel's voice, a sharpness that wasn't there before. He announces that he's going to look for you, his eyes flicking briefly towards the city, towards your home. “You guys go back and secure the ugly lizard. I will look where the hell Sunny is hiding.”

"We're coming with you," Gwen says firmly, Peter B nodding in agreement beside her. There's no room for argument in her voice. Miguel gives them a curt nod and so they swinf through Nea Yorkey searcing for their sun.

Gwen’s search for you leads her to knock on the doors of the neighbors in your building. Most people either shake their heads, claiming they haven't seen you, or slam the door in her face without a word. Gwen's worry deepens with each door she knocks on.

Finally, she finds a woman with a bunch of children screaming in the background. The woman looks frazzled, but she stops and listens to Gwen's questions. "Haven't seen her in days," the woman says, wiping her hands on her apron. "There was an ambulance here the other day, took her away. Ain't seen no light in her place since then."

Gwen feels as if the air has been sucked out of her lungs. She thanks the woman and rushes off to find Miguel and Peter B. Her words spill out in a rush, detailing what she found out. "Miguel," she gasps out. "Peter. Ambulance. Sunny's place."

Miguel's face goes deathly pale, and before Gwen or Peter B can react, he swings into the air, shooting webs and flying through the city with a speed and urgency that leaves them behind.

Gwen and Peter B look at each other and immediately follow, but Miguel is like a man possessed, a force of nature.

He reaches the hospital, and without a second thought, he barges through the doors. His heart is pounding in his chest, his breaths are short and ragged.

The reception desk nurses look up in surprise as Miguel, still in his Spider-Man 2099 suit, demands to know if you are in the hospital. There is a desperation as he speaks your name.

After a tense conversation with the hospital staff and almost being escorted out, Miguel is finally given the room number.

The world seems to stand still  around Miguel as he enters the room, only to find it empty. The nurse, busy tidying the space and remaking the bed, looks up in surprise at the sudden intrusion.

He's staring at the closed door when a nurse brushes past him, mumbling an apology. A sudden rush of fear and confusion go through him as he turns to see the empty hospital bed. His heart feels as if it's been ripped out from his chest. The room spins around him. Where are you?

"Excuse me, are you Miguel O'Hara?" A voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he turns to see another nurse, her face kind but weary. He can only nod, words failing him at the moment.

"Mr. O'Hara, she's not here anymore. She... she's not with us," the nurse says gently, her eyes filled with sympathy. She hands him an envelope. "She asked me to give this to you if you ever came looking for her."

"I am sorry," she adds quietly, before turning to leave. "I'll be right back with little Gabe."

Miguel doesnt register her words. His entire world feels as though it's come crashing down around him. He sinks onto the nearby chair, clutching the envelope tightly, his eyes staring blankly at it. He's too numb to even attempt to open it or even move.

Gwen and Peter B burst into the room then, worry clearly visible on their faces. "Miguel, what's going on?" Gwen asks urgently, rushing to his side. Peter B follows her but Miguel barely hears them, his blood rushing in his ears.

The world is blurry around him, sounds are muffled and distant. The room is empty, and you are not there. ‘No es real’ and ‘por favor vuelve a mi mi sol’ are the only things he can mumble over and over again tirelessly. The reality of it feels like a crushing weight on his chest and all he can do is sit there, holding onto the last piece of you he has left. 

Dear Miguel,

If you're reading this, then I am no longer in this world. 

I just wanted to let you know that it’s not your fault and no you couldn’t have saved me. I know how you are, Miguel. You always have been the man who would try to save the world single-handedly, even if it meant sacrificing yourself in the process. But this wasn't on you. This was my choice, my decision and I stand by it. I knew the risks and I am sorry I hurt you.

But here's the thing, I have no regrets. Our child...our Gabriel, he's my most cherished gift to you, Miguel. And I know you, with your awkward, nerdy charm and those terrible dad jokes you think are hilarious, will be an amazing father. You were born to be a dad - it's like your destiny. And guess what? This is your second chance to be the best dad you were always supposed to be.

I know you will protect our baby with every fiber of your being. That's just who you are. My last wish is that you give Gabriel the life he deserves. Raise him, love him, be there for him. That's all I want, Miguel.

And if you ever miss me, just look up to the sky, and I'll be there. Even if you can't see me, know that I'm probably hiding behind a cloud, always watching over and protecting you and our Gabriel.

P.S. Please let Gwen, Peter, Jess, Hobie, Miles, Pav and the rest of the squad know how thankful I am for them. They’ve been family, and I know they will rock as godparents.

Forever shining for you, 

Tu sol

The door opens again, and the nurse walks in, cradling a tiny bundle in her arms. A baby. A newborn.

As soon as Miguel held the newborn,his son, securely in his arms, he makes a silent promise to you, wherever you are, that he will honor your last wish. He will be the father Gabriel deserves and he will make sure that your sacrifice and love will never be forgotten.

After all, how could anyone possibly forget about the sun?

[summerclementine27]

Meet Me in The Hallway 🌷 pt.2

Summary: Y/N finally admits her feelings to Mr. Styles, feeling a wave of honesty as they have a drink together to celebrate their debate team’s win. However, what Y/N doesn’t expect is that he feels the same or the escalation of events that happens when he admits to his feelings.

Warnings: smut, argument, and fluff.

Word count: 14.5k

(sorry it’s long but there is a happy ending if you stop at the line and ignore the rest)

We made it to the semi-finals, and the pressure was palpable. Every debate round brought us closer to the goal, and I could feel the weight of my team’s expectations on my shoulders. I wanted us to win, not just for the glory, but because I believed in our hard work and dedication.

Amidst the stress and excitement, my mind often wandered to Harry. There was an undeniable chemistry between us, a spark that flickered in our shared glances and lingering touches. It was thrilling and confusing all at once, adding an extra layer of intensity to an already charged atmosphere. As we prepared for the next debate, I couldn’t help but hope that our connection would somehow bring us luck, pushing us to triumph in the competition and maybe, just maybe, in our budding relationship.

I started to truly see potential for this after we won the first few rounds, when Harry hugged me tightly for the first time, rather than his usual awkward side hugs, his enthusiasm matching my own. His embrace felt warm and reassuring, a silent promise that we were in this together. The way he looked at me, with pride and something else I couldn't quite define, made my heart race. It was in those moments of victory, amidst the cheers of our teammates, that the chemistry between us became impossible to ignore. His hand would linger on my back, his eyes would lock with mine a little too long, and every shared smile felt like a secret.

The debate team gathered in the hotel conference room, the air thick with anticipation. As president, it was my job to rally the team, but today, I wanted to give Anika, our vice president, a chance to lead. She had worked tirelessly alongside me, and I knew she had the passion and skills to motivate us all.

"Alright team," I began, "today's the semi-finals, and we've fought hard to get here. But I'm not the one who's going to lead the debate or give the pep talk today. Anika, take it away."

Anika stepped forward, a mix of surprise and determination in her eyes. "Thanks, Y/N," she said. "We've all worked incredibly hard to reach this point, and I couldn't be prouder of each and every one of you. Remember, it's not just about winning. It's about representing our university with pride, about supporting each other, and about showing everyone the power of our ideas. Let's go out there and give it our all!"

The team responded with cheers and words of encouragement, their spirits visibly lifted. As they filed out of the room to prepare, Harry stayed behind, his eyes fixed on me. Once we were alone, he approached me with a curious look.

"Did you do that as the president, or as Anika's friend?" he asked, his tone both gentle and probing. "Are you feeling less confident about today?"

I shook my head, meeting his gaze steadily. "How could I feel that way when you’ve been by my side, supporting me? I believe in myself, in this team we’ve trained, and I genuinely believe Anika can do this."

Harry smiled, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. "You’ve got a way of inspiring confidence in others, Y/N," he said softly. Then, his expression softened further as he noticed a strand of hair on my face. "Hold still," he murmured, reaching out to gently tuck the stray hair behind my ear.

I laughed softly, feeling a rush of warmth. "Oh, are you fixing me up now?"

"Yeah," he replied with a playful grin. "We have each other's backs, right? Do I look okay?"

I glanced over him, my eyes lingering a bit longer than necessary. "You look more than okay, except your tie is a little loose."

Feeling an inexplicable pull to be closer to him, I stepped forward and adjusted his tie, my fingers brushing against his chest. I let my hand rest there for a moment too long, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.

Harry's eyes darkened slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Y/N," he said, his breath warm against my cheek. "You’re quite the motivator."

A shiver ran down my spine at the intensity of his gaze. "Well, Mr. Styles," I whispered back, my hand still on his chest. "If we win tonight, maybe we should do something to celebrate. How is that for motivation” I teased, knowing the influence I had on him now.

“I don’t know, Y/N. All the teams are having a party on their floor, don’t you want to join them instead of hanging out with your old professor”

“Hey you’re not that old, your maybe ten years older than we are. Plus I would rather escape the noise.” He didn’t seem convinced so I felt compelled to change his mind. “A few drinks could do us some good." I tried to add without sounding too desperate.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Is that your professional opinion, Madam President?"

I smiled, my heart racing. "Absolutely," I said, reluctantly stepping back. "Now let's go out there and win this."

As we left the room, the playful tension between us was palpable, making me feel both exhilarated and grounded.

The room buzzed with anticipation as the semi-final debate was about to begin. The stage was set, with the opposing teams seated at their respective tables, their expressions a mix of determination and nerves. Our team, representing our university, was positioned confidently, with Anika at the helm as the lead debater. I stood to the side, trying to maintain my composure, knowing that Harry was somewhere in the audience, his presence a constant source of support and encouragement.

Anika opened the debate with a strong introduction, her voice clear and authoritative. She outlined our position on the topic, highlighting the key points we would be addressing. As she spoke, I could see the judges nodding, their interest piqued by her articulate delivery.

"Our stance on the issue of renewable energy is not only based on environmental necessity but also on economic viability," Anika stated, her eyes scanning the room. "We believe that investing in renewable resources is the only sustainable path forward."

The opposing team responded, presenting their arguments with equal fervor. They challenged our points, bringing up counterarguments that were well-researched and thought-provoking. The back-and-forth exchange was intense, each side trying to outmaneuver the other with logic and evidence.

I watched Anika closely, admiring her composure under pressure. She deftly countered their arguments, pointing out flaws and inconsistencies with a calm confidence that was impressive. The rest of our team supported her with well-timed interjections, reinforcing our position with additional data and examples.

As the debate progressed, the atmosphere grew more charged. The stakes were high, and every point made felt like a small victory or a setback. Harry’s eyes met mine briefly from across the room, and I drew strength from his steady gaze. He believed in us, and that belief was contagious.

In the final round, Anika delivered a powerful closing statement. "Our commitment to renewable energy is not just a policy choice; it's a moral imperative. We owe it to future generations to act responsibly and sustainably. The evidence is clear, and the time to act is now."

The room fell silent as the judges deliberated. The tension was palpable, each of us holding our breath, waiting for the verdict. Finally, the head judge stood up and announced the results.

"The winner of this semi-final debate, based on the strength of their arguments, clarity of presentation, and overall impact, is...Manchester University!"

A wave of relief and elation washed over me. The team erupted in cheers, hugging each other in celebration. Anika beamed, her hard work and dedication rewarded. I glanced towards Harry, who was clapping enthusiastically, his eyes shining with pride.

We gathered our things and began to exit the stage, the exhilaration of our victory still coursing through us. As the team dispersed, Harry made his way towards me, his smile warm and genuine.

"You did it, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "You led them to victory."

I smiled back, feeling a rush of gratitude and affection. "We did it, Harry. Together."

He reached out, his hand brushing mine. "So, about that celebration tonight..."

I nodded, the excitement of the win mingling with the promise of a quieter, more intimate celebration. "I think we’ve earned it."

Harry and I agreed to meet in the hotel bar later that evening. The entire debate team was planning a celebration on our floor, but the idea of escaping the noise for a quieter moment together was far more appealing

I arrived at the bar first, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. I had changed into a neat black dress that hugged my figure modestly, paired with black tights and a burgundy cardigan for a touch of color. I had clipped half of my hair up, hoping it looked as polished as I felt. The bar was dimly lit, creating an intimate atmosphere, and I chose a corner stool where we could talk without interruption.

A few minutes later, Harry walked in, looking effortlessly stylish in a fitted navy blue blazer over a crisp white shirt, paired with dark jeans. His hair was slightly tousled, and he wore a charming smile as I noticed him, in the middle of trying to take off my cardigan in the heated up space.

“Here” he said as he helped tear away the fabric from my arms. He draped it over my bar stool chair as he placed a hand on my back and gave my cheek the most subtle kiss, his lips barely touching mine though I felt the heat of his cheek.

"Y/N," he greeted before I could thank him, taking the stool next to mine. "You look amazing."

"Thank you, Harry. You clean up pretty well yourself," I replied with a grin.

He laughed softly, signaling the bartender. "What are you having?"

"I think I'll start with a glass of red wine," I said.

He nodded, ordering a glass of wine for me and a whiskey for himself. As we waited for our drinks, he turned to me, his eyes reflecting the warm light of the bar.

"So, how come you’re celebrating with me and not your friends?" he asked, genuinely curious. “Not a party girl?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” I replied with a playful grin.

“Would I?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“Well, not too surprised, I suppose,” I said, making him smile that smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I go to Uni parties often, once a week maybe, or twice if there's an occasion. Less if I'm busy or tired.”

“Hmm, I pegged you for the quiet type. Do you dance?”

“I try, but my years of ballroom dancing proved to be useless,” I admitted with a laugh.

“It often happens that way,” he joked. “It seems you had a strict upbringing—cursive, ballroom dancing. What else can you do?”

I took a sip of my wine, considering his question. “Well, let’s see. I can play the piano, though I’m a bit rusty. I also learned how to paint, mostly landscapes and still life. Oh, and I can bake a mean batch of cookies.”

Harry chuckled, clearly amused. “A woman of many talents. I’m impressed.”

“What about you, Styles?” I asked, turning the tables. “What hidden talents do you have?”

He leaned back, swirling his whiskey thoughtfully. “Well, I’m not much of a dancer, but I can play a decent game of football. I also dabble in guitar playing, though I’m no rock star. And I can make a pretty good cup of tea, if I do say so myself.”

“Guitar, huh? Maybe you can play something for me one day,” I suggested, feeling a warmth spread through me at the thought.

“Maybe I will,” he said with a soft smile. “But only if you promise to dance to it, ballroom style.”

I laughed, the tension between us easing into a comfortable camaraderie. “Deal. Just don’t laugh if I trip over my own feet.”

“I would never,” he said, his tone serious but eyes twinkling with mischief. “Besides, I’m sure you’re a wonderful dancer.”

“So, can you sing too, or just the guitar?” I asked, shy at his compliment but beaming at his words, nonetheless. I was fearful I was coming off as too excited but I couldn’t play it cool if I tried. Besides, I think he liked it.

Harry’s eyes sparkled. “Yes, I do sing. I enjoy it a lot, though I wouldn’t call it a talent. I like Karaoke” he said as though compensating for the former part of his sentence.

“Do you know about the karaoke bar near the School of Literature?” I asked

Harry nodded, a playful glint in his eye. “Yes but you’re forgetting one very important thing, Y/N.”

“And what’s that?” I asked, intrigued.

“It’s always packed with students,” he teased.

I laughed. “Hey, I’m a student too, you know.”

“You’re different,” Harry said, his voice taking on a softer, more thoughtful tone. “There’s something special about you. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it’s not the same.”

I felt a thrill at his words. “So are you.” I said as he hummed quietly.

As the night went on, the conversation between Harry and me flowed effortlessly, shifting from lighthearted banter to deeper, more personal topics.

“And your parents are divorced too?” he asked, his tone casual but curious. After sharing that his mum still lived in Holmes Chapel, Manchester, and that he visited her on weekends when he wasn’t working, he continued, “I don’t mean to pry, but you mentioned how you visit your mum in London and your dad in—”

“—In various places,” I finished for him, smiling. “Yes, they are divorced. I guess I’ve gotten double the vacations out of it.” I chuckled, leaning in a bit.

“That must be nice, where have you been?”

“My mum loves to take me to places rich in culture, like Bali or Thailand, but we usually end up spending most of our time cooped up in a resort. Not that I’m complaining; the food is incredible. But, I guess you can say my mum and I have our differences”

“Hm” Harry said, nodding. “And your dad? You take more after him I suppose”

I smiled, considering his question. “I guess you could say that. My dad’s got this adventurous spirit, always seeking out new experiences. He’s the one who took me on those trips to Morocco and Kenya. He’s the kind of person who’s always on the move, exploring different cultures and cuisines.”

Harry’s eyes lit up with interest. “Sounds like you inherited the best from both worlds”

I tilted my head, intrigued. “How do you mean?”

“Well,” Harry began, leaning in slightly, “it seems like you’ve got this adventurous side from your dad, always seeking new experiences, and a taste for the finer things from your mum. It’s like you’ve got the curiosity and zest for life from one side a sort of classy stillness in your disposition that I suppose is from your mum. It makes sense why you’re so dynamic and interesting.”

I smiled, feeling a warm glow from his words. “I guess I never really thought of it that way. But I suppose it does make sense.”

Harry’s gaze lingered on me, a playful glint in his eye. “I think it’s a great combination. It makes you someone incredibly interesting while still being elegant and poised.”

I laughed softly, touched by his thoughtful observation. “Thanks, Harry. That makes me sound like – well its quite the compliment. Changes my mind about what I inherited from my mum.”

“Is that why you didn’t stay in London for university? Because of your differences with your mum?”

“Yeah, something like that,” I replied with a laugh. “I always tried to get as far away as possible without raising too many eyebrows. I even took a gap year to study French in Paris, which my dad was actually quite enthusiastic about.”

“Wait I wouldn’t have guessed you took a gap year, you were born in 2005?”

“2004,” I corrected with a smile. “I’m a bit older than you might think.” I teased though I still worried the 10 year age gap would feel more pronounced once I mentioned something about it.

Harry’s interest was piqued. “And you can speak French now?”

“Yes, fluently,” I replied, trying to hide my pride.

“Say something in French for me,” he prompted with a teasing glint in his eye.

I hesitated, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. “Oh, Harry, I don’t think I should, My accent is not the best and-.”

“Come on,” he urged with a playful nudge.

I took a deep breath, my cheeks warming as I said, “Je t’aime beaucoup, Harry, plus que tu ne pensées.”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “What did you say?”

I bit my lip, deciding to be honest. “I told you that I like you very much, Harry. More than you think.”

Harry looked at me, his gaze intense. “Do you really mean that?”

I met his eyes, my voice steady. “I wouldn’t say it if it I didn’t.”

Harry’s gaze softened, his brow furrowing slightly as he struggled to find the right words. “Y/N, I need to be honest with you,” he said, his voice earnest. “I feel the same way you do. I am in awe of you, truly. And I have found this adoration for you outside of academic contexts. You mean so much to me and you don’t even know it” he laughed. “I find myself thinking about you day and night and I want to be more.

My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of his words sinking in. “You mean more than just as my professor, don’t you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, the nervousness in my tone palpable.

Harry’s eyes searched mine, a mixture of vulnerability and hope in his gaze. “Way more than just your professor,” he said, his hands reaching out to hold mine gently. “I want you. I want you in ways I don’t think you’re ready to hear coming from my mouth. But I would never forgive myself if I forced my feelings onto you.” He said nervously, sweat appearing on his forehead.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through me, and I held his hands tightly, trying to steady my racing heart and with it, calm him down. “I’ve been feeling the same way for a while now, and I’ve been thinking of you too. Thinking of things – inappropriate things. and you’re my professor, I mean” I admitted, my voice trembling with a mix of excitement and anxiety. “I was always afraid of how it might complicate things between us.”

Harry’s gaze was tender as he brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. “It doesn’t have to be complicated, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “We can figure this out together.”

I felt a flutter in my chest at his touch, the electricity between us palpable. His hand lingered on my cheek, his thumb gently caressing my skin. “I’ve been so confused about how to handle this,” I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. “But hearing you say that makes me feel so much better.”

His eyes held a mix of vulnerability and determination as he leaned in closer. “I care about you, Y/N, more than just as a colleague or a student. I want to have you, I want to feel you. In every way I can. I want to savor every bit of you.” He said, slowly closing the space between us.

As his lips brushed mine, the kiss started off soft and sweet, a gentle exploration of feelings that had been building between us. But as the seconds passed, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate. I could feel his need and longing, and it ignited a fire within me. I responded with equal fervor, losing myself in the intensity of the moment.

Suddenly, the kiss became overwhelming. I pulled away slightly, searching his eyes for some clarity. The passion that had ignited between us made me feel both exhilarated and slightly apprehensive.

“Harry,” I whispered, leaning my forehead against his. “Maybe we should find somewhere more private. Otherwise, someone might see that you’re kissing your student.”

His eyes were filled with understanding and affection as he nodded. “You’re right. But between you and me, you are so much more than my student,” he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I think I’m starting to understand that” I replied, my heart racing as I intertwined my fingers with his.

We walked hand-in-hand to the elevator, the anticipation building with each step. The elevator doors slid open, and as soon as we were inside, Harry’s lips met mine again, this time with an urgency that mirrored my own. The kiss was fierce and passionate, our bodies pressed together in a way that made the world outside disappear.

When the elevator reached our floor, we stumbled out, still wrapped up in each other. We made our way quickly to Harry’s room, our connection more intense than ever. As we reached his door, he unlocked it and pulled me inside, his hands never leaving mine.

In the privacy of his room, we continued to kiss, our passion for each other evident in every touch and embrace.

Our kisses were feverish and unrelenting, our breaths mingling as we paused briefly to catch our breath.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmured between kisses, his lips lingering on mine.

“Yeah?” I responded, my voice breathless.

“Mhm,” he said, his hands sliding down to my waist, pulling me closer.

“What did you think about?” I asked, my fingers tangled in his hair.

“I thought about finally getting to kiss those lips,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “About holding you like this, my hands on your waist, your hips, in your hair. About having you against me like this.”

“So have I,” I admitted, my heart racing.

“You have?” he asked, his lips brushing against mine, his eyes locked onto mine.

“Of course I have,” I breathed. “All those times we were alone in your office, I was wishing in my head that you would kiss me. That you would even undress me.”

“And what then?” he asked, his voice low and filled with anticipation.

I looked into his eyes, the intensity of the moment consuming me. “And then… and then you would do things to me.” His expression softened but his eyes darkened as they filled with lust.

“You really want that?” he searched my eyes to make sure

“Harry, I want more than anything to feel you, in every way possible.”

“Then I'm ready to give you everything you want. Just say the words,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

“Fuck me, Harry,” I said, watching a groan escape from his parted lips before they returned to mine, more urgent than ever.

“Jump,” he ordered. When I did, he lifted me effortlessly, allowing me to wrap my legs around him. My cardigan slipped to the floor as my hands found their way into his hair and around his neck.

As he lay me down on his bed, a rush of anticipation surged through me. He lifted me slightly to unzip my dress, slipping it down my body before releasing me back to the bed. I barely noticed where he discarded it before his hungry lips were on my neck again, trailing down to my breasts with sloppy kisses.

He began by kissing my cleavage, then wrapped his arms around me to strip off my bra. An eager gasp escaped his lips as he finally unveiled my breasts. With one hand on my left tit, he kissed the right one passionately, my nipple caught in his teeth. Despite the urgency, his touch remained soft as he licked and teased my sensitivity.

Finally, he looked up, his gaze softened entirely. “Y/N,” he said breathlessly, as if words were failing him.

“I,” he began, lips on the top of my stomach, just under my breasts, giving me a wet kiss.

“Am,” he continued, kissing just below the first one.

“So,” another kiss.

“In,” yet another kiss.

“Awe,” he said, finally looking up at my face, which rested on the mountain of hotel pillows that decorated his bed. “Of you, my angel.”

He finished, his fingertips grazing the inside of my black sheer leggings. Slowly, he pulled them down, lifting himself until he was almost upright to tear them away from my legs. I lifted my feet to help, and he tossed them aside, his eyes never leaving mine.

The moment hung between us, electric and tender. His hands roamed my body, exploring every inch with reverence and desire. As he leaned down, his lips met mine again, the kiss deepening with each passing second. The intensity of our connection was undeniable, and I knew that whatever happened next would be unforgettable.

I used the chance to lift myself up as well, unbuckling his belt. He removed his shirt to help me, revealing a toned and tattooed chest. By the time he was done, I was working on his pants, which he slid off the bed briefly to take off along with his shoes and socks. When I finally saw him, in nothing but briefs, I was struck by the sight of him.

For once, all his tattoos were on full display. I had briefly seen a few on his lower arms and, of course, the cross on the back of his hand, but never would I have guessed he was covered in ink. Swallows on his chest, a butterfly on his stomach, and an array of intricate designs and symbols covered his skin, telling stories I longed to hear.

When he noticed me staring, he smiled. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"I love it," I replied, my hand moving to his chest, feeling it heave under my touch. He returned to kiss me before lowering himself to the only clothed part of my body: my pussy.

"I'm going to take this off now, baby," he said, placing a finger on my clothed clit, feeling my wetness drench the thin black fabric. "And you're going to be a good girl for me, right?"

"Yes. Yes, Harry, I will be a good girl for you," I promised, my voice trembling with anticipation.

"Good. Now, you may squirm, and God knows how much I want to hear your pretty little moans. I've been dreaming of you moaning out my name, but you can't cum unless I tell you to. Understood?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Good girl," he said before placing a final kiss on the clothed fabric, another on the inside of my thigh, before pulling off my panties at once. The air shocked the area, making me gasp as he looked at me with a mixture of hunger and admiration.

He began by giving soft kisses on my clit, making me squirm just as he said it would. His hands gripped my thighs, and before I knew it, my legs were over his shoulders. I gasped and moaned at the feeling of his lips against me, my hands gripping the sheets.

“Harry, oh my god,” I gasped, my body arching towards him.

“Mmm, you taste so good, love,” he murmured, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

I felt him reach a hand up to mine, which was clenching the sheets. “Take off my rings for me, love,” he said, referring to the rings on his right ring finger and middle finger.

I did as he asked, my fingers trembling as I slid the rings off. He looked up from where his tongue was working magic on my pussy and simply said, “Atta girl,” which weirdly worked well with his accent.

His voice got thicker as his fingers returned to my wetness. “How many can you take?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said, breathless. “Only two, probably.”

He laughed knowingly. “You’re going to need much more than that to prepare for my dick, angel.”

“Do whatever you want with me, Harry, I just want to feel you,” I said, knowing that if he took off his briefs at that moment, I wouldn’t be able to hold myself from sucking him off, wanting to taste every bit of him.

Returning to the moment, I realized Harry was here, actually fucking me, and before I knew it, I felt two of his fingers inside my pussy, already hitting my G-spot carefully. I moaned, my hips moving against him.

“Fuck, Harry,” I whimpered, the sensation overwhelming me.

“You like that, don’t you?” he said, his voice a low growl. “Just wait until it’s my cock inside you.”

“Yes, please, I want it,” I begged, my body trembling with need.

He smirked, his fingers continuing their relentless assault on my G-spot. “Patience, love. I want to make sure you’re ready for me.”

I moaned louder, my hips moving desperately against his hand. “I’m ready, Harry, please.”

“Not yet, baby. I need to make you come first,” he said, his thumb brushing against my clit as his fingers worked inside me. The combination was too much, and I felt my orgasm building rapidly.

“Harry, I’m so close,” I gasped, my body tensing. “please” I begged, not knowing when he would let me come.

“That’s it, love. Come for me,” he whispered, his voice filled with command and desire.

With a final, skilled movement of his fingers and thumb, my body shattered around him, my orgasm crashing through me in waves. I screamed his name, my hips bucking wildly as I rode out the pleasure.

As I came down from my high, he slowly withdrew his fingers, licking them clean with a satisfied grin. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he said, his eyes dark with lust.

I pulled him up to kiss him, tasting myself on his lips. “Now, Harry, I need you inside me,” I said, my voice desperate and needy.

“Patience, love,” he murmured against my lips. “ I was just inside you” he teased as though he was truly oblivious to how desperate I was for his lips. “I’m going to make this worth the wait, sweetheart.”

He slowly removed his boxers, making me gasp at his length which sprang up against his stomach as soon as it was released, hard and aching for me. I reveled in the idea that I got him this hard, for me, and as though he could read my thoughts he said, "Look what you do to me, angel. Are you proud of how hard you've made your professor?"

I nodded, my eyes wide with a mix of awe and desire. “So proud,” I whispered, reaching out to touch him. His cock twitched under my fingers, and he let out a low groan.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He leaned down to kiss me, his lips capturing mine in a heated embrace. I could feel the tension between us, the anticipation building with every touch.

I kept stroking him as we kissed, trying to distract myself from how much I wanted to put my mouth on his dick. Once I felt his precum drip over his entire length, I used it as a lubricant to stroke him harder, my grip tightening. He groaned into my mouth, his hips bucking slightly in response.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathed, his voice strained with pleasure. “You’re driving me crazy.”

I smiled against his lips, feeling a surge of confidence. “Is that so?” I teased with an unknown confidence, my strokes becoming more deliberate, teasing the sensitive head before sliding down to the base.

“Yes,” he gasped, his hands gripping my hips as if to steady himself. “You have no idea.”

I moved my mouth to his neck, kissing and nibbling on his skin as I continued to work him with my hand. His breath hitched, and I felt a shiver run through his body.

“Harry,” I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear. “I want to taste you.”

He let out a deep groan, his eyes darkening with desire. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” I interrupted, my voice firm yet sultry. “Please, let me.”

He looked at me, his gaze intense and filled with lust. “Okay, angel,” he murmured, his hand gently caressing my cheek. “Anything you want.

I slid down his body, my lips trailing kisses along his chest and stomach. When I reached his hips, I looked up at him as he sat down for me, my eyes locking with his as I slowly placed kisses on his sensitive head before I finally took him into my mouth. His cock twitched against my tongue, and he let out a shaky breath.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his hand tangling in my hair. “You’re perfect.”

I moaned around him, the vibrations eliciting another deep groan from him. I took him deeper, my tongue swirling around his length as I bobbed my head. His grip on my hair tightened, guiding me as I pleasured him.

I glanced up at him, seeing the raw need in his eyes. His chest heaved with each breath, and his lips were slightly parted, his expression was one of pure ecstasy. I increased my pace, my hand working in tandem with my mouth as I used the other to grasp his balls, bringing him closer to the edge.

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice trembling. “I’m so close.”

I pulled back slightly, my hand continuing to stroke him. “I want you to come for me, Harry,” I whispered, my voice filled with desire. “Please, I want to taste you.”

His eyes darkened even more, and with a final, shuddering breath, he willed himself to tear my hand away.

“Fuck,” he panted, his hand gently caressing my cheek as I looked up at him with teary eyes. “As much as I love what you’re doing, and the thought of coming in that beautiful dirty mouth that I never thought could do such obscene things, I don’t want to come until I am inside of you, my angel.”

He gently threw me back until my head hit the pillows again. “What a gorgeous sight, baby.” He moaned as he loomed over me, hands on my hips already.

His touch was both gentle and demanding, and I felt myself climbing higher and higher, the pleasure overwhelming. "Harry, please," I begged, my voice a breathless whisper. "I need you."

He looked up, his eyes filled with lust and affection. "I need you too, love," he said softly. "But remember, you have to be patient for me, my girl." He murmured as he reached a hand towards his nightstand, opening a drawer quickly to grab something.

I nodded, biting my lip to stifle my moans as he continued to tease me with his fingers. The anticipation was maddening, and I felt like I was on the edge of a precipice, waiting to fall.

When I moved my head to see what he was doing, I realized he was grabbing a condom, bringing it to his mouth as he used his teeth to unpackage the elastic. The sight sent a new wave of desire through me, my anticipation heightening with every second. He rolled the condom on with practiced ease, his eyes never leaving mine.

Finally, he moved back up my body, his cock pressing against my entrance. "Are you ready, angel?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

"Yes, Harry," I whispered, my hands gripping his shoulders. "Please."

He entered me slowly, stretching me in a way that felt both painful and exquisite. I gasped, my nails digging into his skin as he filled me completely. "You feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against mine. "So tight and perfect."

"Move, Harry," I urged, my body aching for more. "Please."

He began to thrust, each movement deliberate and powerful, driving me closer and closer to another orgasm.

His movements grew more urgent, his breathing ragged as he drove us both closer to the edge. "You’re incredible," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear.

Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through my body, making me arch against him. "Harry," I moaned, my voice trembling with need.

"That's it, baby," he panted, his lips trailing down to my neck, kissing and nibbling at the sensitive skin. "You’re doing so fucking well. Taking my cock so well my angel." He soothed me.

I could feel the coil tightening in my lower abdomen, the pressure building with each powerful thrust. "Harry, I'm so close," I whimpered, my hands moving to grip his back, my fingers digging into his muscles.

"Come for me, angel," he whispered, his voice low and commanding. "I want to feel you come around me."

His words sent me over the edge. My body tensed, my toes curling as my orgasm ripped through me, my walls clenching around him.

"That's it, Y/N," he groaned, his pace quickening as he chased his own release. "You're so perfect."

I could feel his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breathing harsher. "Harry," I whispered, my hands moving to cradle his face. "Come for me."

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside me, his body shuddering as he found his release. "Fuck, Y/N," he moaned, his forehead resting against mine as he rode out his orgasm.

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies intertwined, our breathing slowly returning to normal. He pulled out gently, discarding the condom before collapsing next to me on the bed.

“You're incredible,” he said again, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his words. “So are you, Harry. I can’t believe I was able to take you. You’re the biggest I’ve ever had.”

Harry's eyes widened slightly, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Is that so? Glad to hear I’m making an impression,” he said, his tone both teasing and affectionate.

I chuckled, feeling a mix of satisfaction and shyness. “Definitely making an impression,” I confirmed, my fingers lightly tracing patterns on his chest. “It was more than I expected, but in the best way.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I know, I was overwhelmed too, your body is fucking incredible, you know that? Must be all that yoga.” He joked.

I laughed softly, playfully swatting his shoulder. “Oh, so you’re saying I should thank my yoga instructor for this?”

He nodded with a smirk. “Absolutely. And I have to say, your pussy is as phenomenal as your body. It’s been a pleasure getting to know it up close.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my smile. “Glad I could meet your high standards. You’re not too shabby yourself, Mr. Styles.” I said, surprised to earn a faint huff from his pretty pink lips.

The mention of his name clearly had an impact on him as it made his eyes darken with a mix of desire and amusement. He pulled me closer, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Oh, you’re playing with fire now, using my full name like that. It seems you’ve got a knack for turning me on.”

I grinned, feeling a playful thrill at his reaction. “Just giving you a taste of your own medicine, Mr. Styles.”

Harry’s hand slid down to rest on my lower back, his touch igniting a fire between us. “Well, I must say, you’ve got quite the talent for it. You’re making it very hard for me to keep my composure.”

I leaned in, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, “You’ve got me all worked up, Harry. It’s only fair you return the favor.”

He grinned, his fingers lightly tracing my arm. “Well, I’m glad you think so. I’d hate to disappoint after all the anticipation.”

I leaned in closer, teasing him. “So, was I everything you hoped for? Or do you have any complaints?”

Harry chuckled, his lips brushing against my ear. “No complaints at all. Everything was perfect. In fact, I think I need to get to know that body of yours even better. Maybe a few more yoga sessions are in order.”

I playfully raised an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation for more intimate… workouts?”

“Definitely,” he said, his voice full of promise. “And trust me, I’m looking forward to every single session.”

We both laughed, the light-hearted banter easing any lingering tension. Harry’s hand continued to caress my back, his touch tender and affectionate. I snuggled closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my cheek.

“So, any other compliments I should know about?” I asked, looking up at him with a teasing smile.

Harry grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, just that you’re absolutely incredible. And I’m one lucky guy to have you here with me.”

I felt a rush of warmth at his words, and I leaned in to kiss him softly. “Well, I’m pretty lucky, too. I’m glad we finally got this chance.”

Harry’s gaze softened, and he brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Me too, angel. Let’s stay like this for a while. No rush, no pressure. Just us.”

“Yes,” I agreed, my fingers tracing the lines of his tattoos. “Let’s. Maybe I’ll finally get to know the stories behind all these tattoos.”

Harry’s eyes lit up with a mix of amusement and intrigue. “Oh, you’re in for quite the storytelling session,” he said, his tone teasing. “But we don’t have enough time tonight. I already kept you up and you need your beauty sleep.” He joked, as if the final tournament weren’t tomorrow, or I guess, today seeing as it was almost two in the morning.”

We lay there, entwined, our breaths slowly evening out as the intensity of the moment faded. His hands gently caressed my back, his touch light and soothing. I could feel his warmth radiating against me, a comforting presence that made me feel safe and cherished.

After a few moments of peaceful silence, he shifted slightly, reaching for a nearby box of tissues. He carefully cleaned me up, his movements tender and considerate. “I hope that was okay,” he murmured again, his eyes searching mine with a hint of concern. I worried that maybe regret was setting in.

“It was more than okay,” I replied, my voice soft and filled with affection. “It was amazing.”

He smiled, his eyes lighting up with a mix of relief and happiness. “I’m glad,” he said, his hand brushing along my arm in a soothing gesture. And so was I, realizing that he wasn’t feeling guilty after all.

He kissed my forehead gently, his lips lingering in a tender touch. “You’re something else, Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “I never expected to do this.”

I snuggled closer to him, my head resting on his chest. “Neither did I,” I confessed. “But I’m really glad we did.

He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as if afraid to let go. “Me too,” he whispered. “I want to make sure you’re okay.” He said again, clearly anxious about my feelings.

“I am,” I reassured him, my fingers tracing small patterns on his chest. “Just enjoying being here with you.”

He sighed contentedly, his hand gently stroking my hair. “Now get some sleep, angel” He finally said.

“Okay,” I murmured, my eyes already growing heavy. “But just one more kiss before we fall asleep?”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection. “I think I can manage that.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. It was a sweet promise of the connection we shared, a reminder of the intimacy that had brought us together. As we settled into a comfortable embrace, the quiet hum of the city outside became a soothing lullaby.

With his arms securely around me, I closed my eyes, feeling a profound sense of contentment. In Harry’s embrace, I felt like I had found a piece of home, a place where I belonged.

—————— ——————————————————————

I didn’t feel myself falling asleep; it washed over me so naturally, like a gentle tide pulling me into a serene, dreamless rest. Normally, I had to fantasize about Harry until I was too exhausted to stay awake, but tonight was different. I was enveloped in a cocoon of comfort and warmth, his arms around me making me feel safe and cherished. It was as if nothing else mattered.

When I awoke, it was to an empty bed. The space beside me was cold, and a pang of worry shot through me. I usually never got up for anything in the middle of the night, but the absence of his warmth made me uneasy. I slipped out from under the covers, searching for my underwear and bra, but they were nowhere to be found. I ended up pulling on one of Harry’s shirts, the fabric hanging loosely on me, and padded across the cold floor, shivering slightly as I walked toward the balcony.

As I approached the sliding glass doors, I heard Harry’s voice, raised in frustration. “Yes, I know that, Horan,” he spat into the phone. “Don’t you think I’m aware of the code of conduct? Maybe I haven’t been a professor here as long as you have, but I know the rules.”

I paused, hidden behind the door, trying to piece together the conversation. Harry’s tone was defensive, his words filled with exasperation. “I didn’t call you to gloat. You know I didn’t.” he said but I couldn’t piece together what professor Niall Horan was saying on the other end of the line. Until:

“I guess I just called you to talk about it. I am freaking out mate.” He said, making me shudder at what he might think of me now, at how things will be.

“Yes, Niall of coursed I asked her. Before and after.” He said like he was hurrying to defend himself in between Niall’s questions. “No I didn’t tell her that. There was no reason to, but she knew. She knew she could leave and that we could stop but trust me it takes two and she was definitely as complicit as I was.” He said before being silent for a long time.

Finally: “I was not trying to be a dickhead, okay? I didn’t think about the power dynamics but either way, she gets good marks, she wouldn’t have been scared to tell me no. Either way what’s done is done. I already slept with her. What is there to do now? I can’t undo what I did.”

My heart sank as I listened, the realization of the situation hitting me with a sharp sting. I turned to walk away, feeling ashamed, scared, and hurt. The cold floor beneath my feet seemed to echo my anxiety until my knee cracked loudly, causing me to wince. Harry’s voice abruptly cut off as he heard the sound, and he quickly hung up the phone.

“Y/N?” he called, his voice tinged with concern as he turned toward me. I stayed silent, not meeting his gaze. “Did you hear that?”

I nodded, feeling a surge of emotion. “Yes, I heard.”

Without saying a word, I began to remove his shirt, searching desperately for my bra. Harry stepped forward, his expression a mixture of frustration and regret. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I just... I didn’t know how to explain.”

“Was this just a one-night stand?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Did you only want me for tonight, and now you’re done?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Harry said quickly. “If it were, I wouldn’t have let you sleep here. I care about you, Y/N.”

“Oh, really?” I snapped, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “How noble of you, Harry. Thanks for letting me sleep here after sleeping with me.” I said because it was not even up for discussion, of course I was going to sleep with him, it was the least we could do. Not just as a favor to me – as to avoid stumbling back to my room, half-dressed at 2AM, but as a way to spend time together, to hold each other as a non-verbal agreement that we were content and happy and there for each other.

His face fell, but he tried to maintain his composure. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just... I didn’t plan this. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Complicated?” I echoed, feeling tears well up. “Is that what this was all about? The dynamics, my beauty, or maybe because I’m smart? Were you just tempted?”

Harry stepped closer, his voice softer. “No, it’s not just lust. I’ve developed real feelings for you. It’s not just about physical attraction.”

“But then why were you talking to Niall like that?” I asked, my voice breaking. “What, now that the novelty is gone, you’re going to leave too?”

“Do you think you’re just a hookup to me?” Harry asked, his eyes widening in hurt.

“I don’t know,” I replied, my voice filled with anguish. “But if you’re planning on ignoring me and leaving me completely, what does that make me? How do I go back to class now? How do we continue our friendship or even our professional relationship if I’m just a source of guilt for you?”

I knew I was unreasonable. That he was probably feeling the weight of his job and the complexities of managing a relationship with a student, but the fear of the unknown possibilities, one of them being him getting fired or penalized in some way, worried me. And I was more worried that under the pressure of a job he is so passionate about, he would be willing to let me go. And that would make me feel like a one night stand, because everything would fade away after a tipsy night together.

Harry’s face was a mixture of pain and resolve. “You’re not just a source of guilt. I genuinely care about you, Y/N. I just need to figure out how to make things right.”

I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed. “So I am a source of guilt? Among other things but still, you’re guilty?” I said searching for an expression amidst his anxious disposition. “I need more than just words, Harry. I need to know where we stand. I need to understand if this is something real or if I’m just a temporary distraction.”

His expression softened, and he reached out to touch my arm gently. “I want to make this work. I truly do. But I understand if you need time to process everything.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I just need clarity. Right now, all I have is confusion and hurt.”

Harry nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and hope. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that I’m committed to this, to us. Just give me a chance.”

We stood there, the weight of the situation hanging heavy between us. The cold air from the balcony seemed to mirror the chill in my heart, but there was a flicker of warmth, a hope that maybe, despite everything, we could find a way through this tangled mess of emotions and uncertainty.

“Look, it’s late,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions. “And we’re both tired. Let’s just get some sleep.”

I went to grab my clothes, feeling the weight of the night’s events pressing heavily on me. As I began slipping on my dress, Harry’s eyes followed me, his expression shifting from confusion to concern when he saw that I wasn’t just putting on my underwear but was dressing fully.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

“It’s best if I sleep in my room,” I replied, trying to sound as composed as possible. “I need some space to clear my head.”

Harry’s face fell, a mix of guilt and distress evident in his features. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you.”

I could see the pent-up emotion in his eyes, the frustration and regret that mirrored my own feelings. “I know, Harry. But I need some time to think. This isn’t something we can just gloss over.”

He reached out, his hand hovering in the air before he dropped it, clearly conflicted. “Please, don’t go. I want to work this out.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Look, I’ll leave you my spare key card. You can come to my room tomorrow morning before we meet for practice.”

Harry nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and apprehension. “I will. I promise. I’ll be there.”

I walked to the small table where I had left the key card and handed it to him. “Goodnight, Harry.”

As I turned to leave, he reached out and gently touched my arm. “Please, don’t think that this changes how I feel about you.”

I gave him a small, weary smile, feeling the ache of the night’s events. “I know. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

I made my way back to my room, my mind racing with thoughts and questions about the future. When I finally lay down in my bed, the silence was almost deafening. The warmth and safety I had felt earlier were now replaced with a deep sense of uncertainty. Despite the exhaustion tugging at my eyelids, sleep was elusive, my mind replaying the night’s events over and over.

I woke up feeling the heavy weight of last night’s unresolved tension pressing down on me. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the heater. I forced myself out of bed, the events of the previous night replaying in my mind. I needed to start my day, even if it felt impossible.

I stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over me, trying to wash away the lingering anxiety and uncertainty. I let the steam envelop me, hoping it would clear my thoughts. As I dried off and began to style my hair, I focused on the routine as a distraction, meticulously curling and arranging each strand, applying makeup with steady hands despite the tumultuous emotions beneath.

I ordered a breakfast bowl from room service, hoping that the normalcy of breakfast might ease the sting. I even thought of Harry and how he liked his breakfast: eggs and black coffee. I ordered those for him, too, placing them beside my own meal, hoping he’d show up and we could discuss what had happened.

But as the minutes ticked by and my breakfast grew colder, Harry’s absence became more pronounced. The food was untouched, the coffee growing cold, and my heart sank further with each passing minute.

Finally, Anika’s text came through: “Everyone’s downstairs waiting for you. Even Harry.”

My stomach twisted at the mention of Harry. The realization that he hadn’t shown up was a fresh wound, deepened by the thought of him making me look bad and embarrass me by not being there. I’d spent the morning waiting for him, hoping for a resolution that never came.

I took a deep breath, grabbed my stuff, and headed downstairs. As I walked through the hotel lobby, I could feel the stares and whispers, my unease growing with every step. The team was gathered in a cluster, and Harry was among them, engaged in conversation with a group of people. He looked composed and detached, a stark contrast to the turmoil I felt inside.

Anika immediately noticed me and came over, her eyes sharp with concern. “Hey, the debate topic was announced. We don’t have much time. You look rough, Y/N. What happened?”

I gave her a tired smile, knowing she could always read me better than anyone. “Something happened with Harry last night,” I admitted quietly, my voice heavy. “But we can’t talk about it now. Let’s discuss it after the tournament.”

Anika nodded, her face reflecting a mix of sympathy and curiosity. “Okay, we’ll talk later. Let’s get through this.”

As we joined the team for practice, I couldn’t help but notice Harry’s avoidance. He seemed distant, his demeanor colder than usual. Every interaction felt strained, as though he was trying to keep a deliberate distance. It was clear that something had changed, and the tension between us was palpable.

Despite my efforts to focus on practice, the weight of the morning’s events and Harry’s apparent coldness overshadowed everything. The anticipation of the debate and the upcoming celebration party felt hollow, a stark contrast to the excitement I had felt just a day before.

Throughout the practice, Harry’s demeanor remained defensive, his interactions clipped and formal. It was clear that the connection we had shared was now a chasm filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

Anika found me sitting alone in a corner, trying to steady my nerves. She approached with a concerned look, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.

“Hey, Y/N,” she started, her voice gentle but firm. “I know things have been a bit...off lately. Are you sure you’re up for leading the debate today? You look pretty shaken.”

I looked up, meeting her gaze with determination. “I’m fine, Anika. I can do this. I know it’s been rough, but I’m ready to lead. I’ve got this.”

Anika nodded, her face softening with a supportive smile. “Alright, if you’re sure. Just remember, you’ve got this. We all believe in you.” She said as we made our way to the hall.

The tournament hall was abuzz with energy as teams prepared for their debates. The atmosphere was charged with intensity, and my nerves were a tangle of excitement and dread.

Midway through my opening statements, I glanced up and saw Harry sitting in the audience. My heart skipped a beat, and I momentarily froze, struggling to gather my thoughts. The sight of him, a reminder of the unresolved tension between us, was almost too much to handle. I could feel the weight of his gaze, adding pressure to an already challenging situation.

I managed to pull myself together, but the distraction happened again and again throughout the debate. Each time I saw Harry, my focus wavered, and I could sense the team’s score slipping as a result. I cast a desperate glance at Anika, who nodded in understanding.

“Anika, I need you to step up,” I whispered urgently. “I’m losing it up here. Can you take over?”

Without hesitation, Anika took the lead, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. As she spoke with confidence and clarity, I found myself more relaxed and able to contribute effectively as a supporting member. The pressure of being in the spotlight was lifted, and I made stronger arguments, though the unease still lingered in the back of my mind.

Finally, as the debate concluded, the results were announced. Our team had won. The relief and triumph were palpable, but I couldn’t shake the anxiety that my earlier performance had almost cost us the victory.

Harry approached, a look of mixed concern and congratulations on his face. “Congratulations, Y/N. You did great, despite...”

I cut him off, grabbing my things and heading towards Anika. “Thanks, Harry. I need to go.”

Anika and I headed to her room, the quiet and familiarity offering a respite from the day’s chaos. We got ready for the party as I tried to tell her everything, sparing her the details of me and one of her own professors.

As we sat on the edge of the bed, I recounted everything that had happened. “I thought I was falling in love with him, Anika. It’s so embarrassing. I don’t even know how to process it.”

Anika listened patiently, offering a comforting presence. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to feel how you’re feeling. We’ll figure it out.”

Just then, my phone buzzed with a series of texts from Harry. I glanced at the screen, my heart sinking as I read his messages:

Hey, Y/N. Can we talk?

I just left your bedroom.

Is there any more to do?

I know there’s a party, but I’m hoping you’ll come around.

Just let me know ill be at your door.

Please. I really hope you’ll come around.

Please just let me know, I’m on the floor.

Maybe we’ll work it out.

I just gotta get better at this.

But still, we need to talk about this, or else we never will. It will become something we don’t do, ever.

Cause once you go without it nothing else will do.

Meet me in the hallway, Y/N.

I stared at my phone, struggling to make sense of Harry's messages. The words seemed to jumble together, each text blurring into the next. The thought of him sitting outside my door, slumped against the wall with his phone in hand, sent a pang of confusion and empathy through me. How desperate must he have felt to use my key card to get in and to send these pleading texts?

Yet, Harry's messages seemed to be an emotional puzzle I couldn’t quite piece together. The need to resolve things was overwhelming. If I didn’t confront him now, he might be right—perhaps this was our last chance to address what had happened between us. Ignoring it would mean losing whatever we had built, potentially ending our connection for good.

I knew that if we didn’t talk, our relationship—whether personal or professional—might never recover. The thought of walking away without understanding where we stood left me unsettled. I realized I needed to face him, to hear him out and try to make sense of everything. Only then could I decide whether we had a future or if it was truly over.

Determined, I took a deep breath and made my way towards the hallway, resolving to find out what Harry truly wanted to say.

I stepped out of the elevator and into the dimly lit hallway, the soft chime of the doors closing behind me fading into the background. The hallway stretched out before me, a quiet, almost eerie space illuminated by the occasional flickering light. My heart raced as I saw him—Harry—sitting at the end of the corridor, his back resting against my door. His posture was slumped, his legs sprawled out in front of him. The exhaustion etched on his face was unmistakable, and his eyes were fixed on his hands, which rested in his lap.

He looked weary, almost broken, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy as I approached him. The way he sat there, isolated in the dim hallway, spoke volumes about how troubled he must have been. The soft, muted light from the hallway accentuated the dark circles under his eyes and the tense lines on his face. His disheveled hair and rumpled clothes suggested he had been there for a while, lost in his thoughts and waiting for a chance to make things right.

I dropped down beside him, my knees brushing against the cold floor. Without saying a word, I reached out and gently took his hand in mine. The contact seemed to stir him from his reverie. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of relief and apprehension.

“Harry,” I said softly, my voice breaking the silence. “Get up.”

He blinked, the surprise in his eyes giving way to a tender vulnerability. “Y/N?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, my gaze steady despite the hurt I felt.

His face fell, and he looked down at the floor, his expression one of deep regret. I reached out and helped him to his feet, his hand still clasped in mine. As he stood, I unlocked the door, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet hallway.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course you can, Harry,” I replied, trying to keep my tone as warm as I could manage. “It’s what I want.”

We stepped into the room, and I closed the door behind us, the soft click signaling our transition into a more private space. He stood there, looking around the room as if seeing a hotel room for the first time, his emotions palpable. I gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed while I took a seat next to him, our hands still intertwined.

“Are you okay?” He finally spoke.

“I’m fine,” I replied, though my voice wavered slightly. “But I’m disappointed you didn’t show up this morning.”

His face fell, and he looked down at the ground, clearly pained. “I didn’t mean to let you down. I got caught up with Niall last night...” he tried to defend until finally he relented, I could tell by the change in his expression which was more honest now.

I looked at him, the ache of disappointment still fresh. “I was waiting for you, Harry. I wanted to see you. You said you’d come by before practice, and when you didn’t, it felt like... like you didn’t care.”

He shook his head, his eyes filled with remorse. “No, Y/N, that’s not it at all. I was just... overwhelmed. Niall was really laying into me, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I know that’s no excuse, but it’s the truth.”

I nodded slowly, processing his words. “What did Niall say?”

“He... he was furious. He didn’t hold back. He told me I was breaking all sorts of rules, that I should’ve known better. And he’s right. I know it was wrong. I didn’t call him to brag or to make excuses. I just needed someone to talk to, and it turned into this whole argument.”

He slowly began again, “He called me. It was an hour earlier in Manchester and he had just gotten home. I wasn’t going to tell him at first but then he made a joke about how I’m holding up while on this trip with you, pining for you and –” he spoke as if afraid of his own feelings for me. “that’s when I told him.”

I frowned, feeling the sting of his earlier words. “So, you were talking about me?”

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “He was right about one thing—this has to stay a secret. At least until next year, when I’m no longer your professor.”

The gravity of his confession hung between us. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions. “Is that what I am to you, Harry? A secret?”

“No, it’s not that simple,” he said urgently, his voice cracking. “You’re not just a secret or a one-night stand. I—” He paused, searching for the right words. “I was afraid. Afraid that I’d ruin everything, that I’d lose you. I thought if I could just get through this, we could find a way to make it work.”

I looked down at my hands, my mind racing. “But what if that’s not enough? What if I’m just a fleeting distraction? You were saying with Niall...”

Harry’s face contorted with frustration and sadness. “No, Y/N, that’s not how I see you. But you have to understand that it actually is complicated. My job is on the line, and your reputation. I know it’s a 10 year age gap but everyone will still know you as the girl who slept with her older professor. But you’re not a secret. We would have to take it slow the next term, obviously. And for us too, I mean I will take you on a proper date, believe me I’ve wanted to do that before sleeping with you, but we can’t exactly be the most public. Maybe next year we could be more public if you were ready to not take any more classes with me, and for the scrutiny we would face, because I would be. I am willing to deal with anything, I would work through any conflict with the university for you.”

“Wait, you have really thought about this haven’t you? Logistics and all?” I asked.

“Of course I have, I told you, you are not a one night stand. You have been the only thing making me this happy Y/N. All year, you have been the source of my joy, even if all I get is a glance one day and a stroke on my arm another day. I will have you in anyway you would let me, just please stay in my life.” He looked at me as I was trying to believe him.

Finally, he cupped my cheek and said, “If it wasn’t clear already, I have been falling madly in love with you. I love you Y/N, with all my heart.”

The intensity of his confession, combined with the raw honesty of his words, made my heart ache. I reached up and gently cupped his face, my thumbs brushing away the stray tears that had begun to trail down his cheeks. “I love you too, Harry,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion.

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and desperation. The gravity of our feelings pulled us closer together, and as we leaned in, our breaths mingling, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of us in this fragile, sacred space.

Our lips finally met in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. The initial touch was soft, exploratory, as if we were both savoring the long-awaited contact. His lips moved gently against mine, his kiss full of the longing and regret he had expressed. I responded in kind, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, growing more intense as we both gave in to the emotions we had been holding back. His hands slid up to cup my face, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he were afraid to break the spell. I felt a surge of warmth and love as he pulled me even closer, his body pressed against mine.

We broke apart slowly, our foreheads resting against each other, breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. The kiss had been a release, a way to bridge the gap that had grown between us. As we looked into each other's eyes, the words were no longer necessary. We both knew what this meant and where we stood.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated softly, his eyes searching mine for any sign of lingering doubt. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

I smiled, the last traces of tension melting away. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You love me?” I asked, though it sounded more like a statement I was repeating to reassure myself.

“Yes, Y/N, I love you. So fucking much that it aches.”

“You love me.” I said again more confidently. “God and I love you too, to bits and pieces.”

In that fragile, intense moment, our world seemed to shrink to just the space we occupied together. With a trembling breath, he closed the distance between us, his lips finding mine in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

His kiss was full of longing, each press of his lips a silent plea for forgiveness and a promise of something more. It was as if he was pouring all his heartache and love into that one contact, his kisses alternately soft and urgent. I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin, the fervor in his touch as he cradled my face, his fingers splayed against the sides of my neck. It was a kiss that spoke of regret and hope, of an intense, almost overwhelming desire to make things right.

My hands moved instinctively, sliding from his neck and through his hair down to his collar. My fingers fumbled for a moment with the buttons of his shirt, the need to be closer to him driving me forward. I could feel his heartbeat quicken beneath my touch, his breath hitching as I managed to open the shirt, exposing his chest.

He pulled back slightly, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “We don’t have to—”

I cut him off, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of feelings inside me. “I want nothing more, Harry, than to love you.”

His eyes locked onto mine, the vulnerability in them giving way to a deep, earnest emotion. The sincerity in his gaze was a balm to the tumult inside me. As I removed his shirt completely, the urgency and tenderness of our connection grew even more palpable.

With a mixture of hesitance and yearning, we drew closer again. Our lips met with a renewed intensity, the kiss deepening as we both gave in to the moment. His hands roamed over my back, pulling me closer, his touch both reverent and possessive.

As I sat beside him on the bed, the charged atmosphere between us crackled with intensity. His hands were careful and deliberate as he began to slip my cashmere sweater off. Each movement was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment of this unwrapping.

When the sweater was finally off, his gaze fell on the collared shirt I wore underneath. A smirk played at his lips as he looked at me with a teasing glint in his eyes. “God, woman, how many layers are you hiding under there?” His voice was husky with a mix of desire and amusement.

I met his gaze with a playful smile, my fingers already reaching for the buttons of my shirt. “This is the last one,” I teased, unfastening the buttons one by one.

As the shirt came off, revealing my bare chest, his eyes widened in appreciation. “No bra?” he said, his voice low and tinged with surprise. “You’re killing me.”

A soft laugh escaped my lips, filled with both nervousness and anticipation. “I figured you’d appreciate the surprise,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Without breaking eye contact, he lowered his lips to my skin, his kisses trailing a path of fire down my chest. Each touch of his lips was electric, causing shivers to cascade down my spine. His mouth was warm and firm, brushing against my sensitive skin as he explored every inch with tender reverence.

Unable to hold back any longer, I guided him gently until he was lying back on the bed. His head rested on the pillows, and I straddled him, feeling the heat of his body against mine. I leaned down to kiss him, our lips meeting in a fervent, hungry embrace. The kiss was deep and full of longing, our breaths mingling as our tongues danced together.

I broke the kiss just enough to press a heated mark on his lower neck, my lips lingering with a firm, deliberate pressure. He groaned softly, a sound that fueled the fire within me. My kisses continued their descent down his chest, my lips tracing the lines of his tattoos with reverent care.

“These tattoos,” I murmured between kisses, my breath warm against his skin, “You’re so fucking hot.” I said slowly and breathlessly.

He responded with a deep, appreciative chuckle, his hands gripping my hips as I explored him. “They’re nothing compared to you,” he said, his voice a mix of admiration and need.

With a mix of anticipation and eagerness, I began to slip his pants down. As I worked, he lifted his hips to assist, his eyes never leaving mine, filled with a desperate need that mirrored my own.

Once his pants were discarded, I paused for a moment, my hand resting on the waistband of his briefs. I could feel the heat radiating from him, and his breathing grew shallow with anticipation. His cock was already straining against the fabric, a hint of its length visible.

“You’re taking care of me so well,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

I looked up at him, my eyes softening with affection and desire. “Anything for the man I love,” I whispered, my voice filled with sincerity.

Slowly, I palmed him through the fabric of his briefs, feeling the heat and firmness of his growing arousal. I leaned down, placing tender kisses along his V-line and lower stomach, my lips brushing over the sensitive skin of his thighs. Each kiss was deliberate, making him whimper and writhe with barely-contained need.

Finally, I tugged his briefs down, revealing him fully. As the fabric slipped away, his cock sprang out, partially erect and throbbing with need. The sight of him, vulnerable and exposed, only heightened my own anticipation. The head was already glistening with pre-cum, and I could see the veins running along the length of his shaft, pulsing with every beat of his heart.

His body tensed, and he let out a desperate groan as I looked at him with a mixture of admiration and desire. The sight of him, so eagerly waiting, made my own need intensify.

He moaned softly as I began to lick up and down his shaft, placing little kisses everywhere and using one hand to stroke the bottom as I teased his head.

“Such a fucking tease” he remarked breathlessly though I knew he was enjoying what I was doing with my tongue, intending to savor him more than I did last night.

I continued to lick at his slit before he moaned “Y/N please, I need you.”

“Need me to what, Harry?” I asked innocently.

“I need your mouth, please – ”

Before he could continue I took him in my mouth at once, bobbing my head until I could feel him in the back of my throught, my eyes tearing up slightly as my hair fell down to drape my face. He somehow managed to pull himself up, despite rolling his head back in pleasure only a few seconds prior, and grabs my hair, willing it into a tight ponytail with one hand, using the opportunity to reach his long arm to place his other hand on my boob, grabbing it harshly as I continued to pleasure him, his dick pulsating in my mouth.

Finally I stopped to stand on my knees, the excitement of the moment coursing through me. I quickly removed my skirt, tossing it aside with a playful flick. As I positioned myself over him, I looked down into Harry's eyes with a mix of anticipation and affection. He was already sprawled out on the bed, his breathing heavy and eager.

With a teasing smile, I placed my hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him back until he was lying against the bed. He looked up at me with a mix of desire and admiration, his eyes locked on mine as if trying to memorize every detail.

I positioned myself over him, my knees bracketing his hips, and took a moment to enjoy the way he was watching me. His cock was already hard and waiting, twitching slightly with every move I made. I rubbed my clit against the tip of his cock, eliciting soft moans from both of us as the sensation made me shiver with pleasure.

Harry’s voice was rough, filled with need. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his eyes searching mine for confirmation.

I leaned forward, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. “I want nothing more than to be with you, Harry. This is what I want.”

I was poised over him, my heart racing with anticipation. Harry’s eyes locked onto mine, a mix of desperation and adoration. “Do you have a condom?” he asked, his voice rough.

I bit my lip, shaking my head. “Shit, no. But I’m on birth control.”

His expression softened with relief, though the hunger in his gaze remained. “I’m okay with going raw,” he said, his voice filled with raw intensity. “I want to feel you fully. I want to feel myself inside you, filling you up.” He said, making me smile wide.

“Anything for you, Mr. Styles.” I teased making him moan before lowering myself onto him in one smooth motion.

I gasped as he filled me, the sensation of being stretched and full making me moan softly. I began to move, my hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles as I found a rhythm that felt right. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me as I rode him, our bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

The heat between us was electric, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through both of us. Harry’s hands roamed over my body, his fingers exploring my curves as he whispered praise and affection.

Harry’s moans grew louder with each thrust, his hands gripping my hips tightly as he guided me. “You feel so amazing,” he groaned, his eyes never leaving mine. “God, I can’t get enough of you.”

I bit my lip, focusing on the pleasure building within me. “You feel so incredible inside me, Harry,” I whispered, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

As the intensity of our movements built, I began to tire, my energy waning. Harry sensed it and took over, his hips bucking up to meet mine with an urgent, powerful rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, my body trembling with every thrust.

He gripped my hips more firmly than before, his voice husky with desire. “I loved having you ride me, but now it’s time to fuck my princess like she deserves.”

With a swift, practiced motion, Harry flipped us over, his body pressing mine into the mattress. He took control, thrusting into me with a relentless pace that left me breathless and desperate. “You’re mine, angel,” he murmured, his voice a heated whisper in my ear. “I want to make you feel everything.”

As his rhythm became more intense, I felt a familiar pressure building inside me. I could no longer hold back, and I came with a shuddering cry, my body clenching around him. The feeling of my orgasm triggered Harry’s release, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he moaned deeply.

“Fuck, Y/N, my angel,” he groaned, his voice filled with both pleasure and awe. He collapsed onto me, his body pressing into mine as he emptied himself inside me. The sensation of him coming within me was almost too much to bear, and I clung to him, my own body still trembling from the aftershocks of my orgasm.

We lay there, entwined and panting, the world outside forgotten. Harry pulled out slowly, his movements gentle and careful as he retrieved a wet towel from the bathroom. He returned and cleaned me up with tender care, his touch soft and reassuring.

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he murmured as he gently wiped away the traces of our passion. “You were amazing.”

I smiled, my heart full as I watched him clean me with such tenderness. “Thank you, baby. I feel so good, euphoric.”

“Good. I want to make you feel like that always, my love” he said, and before I could reply “Lets clean up, yeah?”

We made our way to the shower, the warm water cascading down over us as we stepped under the stream. Harry pulled me close, his hands gently tracing along my back as he started to lather soap into a sponge.

“Here, let me help you,” he said, his voice tender as he began washing my body. He took his time, his touch soft and careful, as if he were savoring every moment.

“Harry, you’re making me feel like royalty,” I laughed, tilting my head back to let the water run over my face.

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, if I’m going to pamper you, I might as well do it right.”

He moved his hands in slow, deliberate circles, starting from my shoulders and working his way down. His fingers caressed my arms, then slid down to my waist, paying special attention to every curve. He was gentle, making sure the soap was thoroughly rinsed off.

“You’re so meticulous,” I teased, laughing as his hands moved lower. “I didn’t realize I was getting a full-service treatment.”

Harry smirked, his gaze lingering on me with affectionate amusement. “I aim to please. Plus, I want to make sure you’re clean and comfortable before we get out of here.”

As he continued to wash me, his hands occasionally brushing against my skin in a way that made me shiver pleasantly. He took extra care around my neck and shoulders, where he knew I liked it best. Each touch was tender and loving, and I found myself smiling as I relaxed under his care.

“Is this what you do every time you’re in the shower?” I asked playfully, raising an eyebrow.

“Only for the people I love,” he replied, his voice warm. “And right now, you’re the lucky one.”

After he finished washing me, he turned to grab the towel and started drying me off, his movements gentle as he patted my skin dry. The soft fabric of the towel felt comforting against my body, and Harry’s careful attention made me feel cherished.

Once we were both dry, Harry pulled on his boxers and I slipped into a pair of cute pajamas—a matching set of black pants and a black tank top with lace on the neckline. Harry’s eyes lit up with admiration as he saw me.

“Well, don’t you look gorgeous, angel” he said, his voice full of affection. “I think I’m in love with these pajamas. They’re almost as cute as you.”

I leaned in for a kiss, feeling content and happy in his embrace. “And you look pretty good in just boxers, you know.”

He chuckled, giving me a quick peck on the lips. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

We settled onto the bed, still wrapped in each other’s arms, enjoying the peaceful intimacy of the moment. It felt perfect—like everything was exactly where it should be.

“Do you want to talk to Anika now?” he asked, his voice soft and full of care.

I shook my head with a smile. “No, I’ll catch up with her tomorrow. Right now, I just want to be here with you.”

Harry nodded, his smile warm as he held me close. “I’m glad. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Harry,” I whispered, snuggling into his side. “Always.”

----------------------------------

hope you enjoyed reading this :)

[mixiury]

Always remembering you - Genshin x GN reader

Characters: Wanderer, Itto, Kaveh, Neuvillette

Summary: You have to leave for a long period of time. What do they do after it? (Basically them missing you)

A/N: I am alive!! Sorry for not posting in a while. Honestly I haven't been very motivated to write but I randomly got this idea so I hope yall like it! (I edited some parts and typos I noticed so hopefully now it is better :)

Wanderer has no need for things as transitory and insignificant as the attention of others— specially if it comes from an human being— so what makes you believe that you would be an exception?

It's been decades since he last sought companionship after all. The only reason why he asked you to accompany him is to complete the tasks Nahida assigned him. It is just easier for you to do all the hard work instead of him. Don't try to read between the lines.

Yes. Of course it was necessary to stop in the middle of Sumeru's forest to contemplate the surroundings for the past hour. It is part of his job to ensure that there are no potential dangers near the city.

Actually, the fact that the path you were taking was blocked by a tree that mysteriously collapsed in front of you due to a strong blown of wind has nothing to do with him. Why would you think he did that in the first place? You're imagining things.

The only reason he's holding your hand right now is so you don't get lost or delay him by this absurdly long new path he's chosen. Yes, it's clearly the only option you two have, so don't complain and keep walking.

But if you need a moment to rest he won't refuse. And if at any point you decide to lean your head on his shoulder, he won't push you away either. Just don't get used to this, he only allows it because he knows how fragile human bodies are and he prefers to avoid Nahida's scolding for leaving you in the middle of nowhere.

And if you still have doubts, that's right, the fact that all these things happen after not being able to talk to you all week is totally a coincidence.

Itto, on the other hand, doesn't seem to know the word discretion.

What do you mean you have another important commission to do? But didn't you just finished one yesterday? How about you join him in a beetle tournament instead? Or maybe you can spend time with the gang? Come on, he knows you can't refuse this unique opportunity!

Hmm? That you always spend time with them..? But this time is different! This time they will do something so different and so incredible that you just can't loose! Trust him. Arataki Itto always keep his word!

And it is just that it seems like the entire universe is sending you signals to spend time with him. From Itto posters that mysteriously appear on paper airplanes to his name in the alphabet soup you eat.

But if all that is not enough to convince you that it is the destiny the one putting you together, somehow you both end up meeting multiple times a day. No matter where you look, he will be there.

Do you have to collect different flowers from Inazuma for your commission? It turns out that floristry is one of his hidden talents! Do you have to give them to someone? How curious! He was just talking to that same person! Are you saying he is brothering them? Of course not! He would never do that... On purpose.

There's no point in questioning him, somehow he always has an excuse- (although it doesn't mean they make sense). It's only until you look up at the sky and see fireworks with Itto's face, his signature, and the words "I miss you" that he finally tells you the truth behind all the coincidences that has happened during the day.

However, the moment does not last long, because shortly afterwards different guards come running to capture Itto for alleged harassment and "illegal use" of fireworks without authorization. Complete defamation if you ask him.

At the end, you and Kuki have to visit him in jail and take care of all the paperwork for the damage him and the gang caused. But hey, at least that means his plan worked?

Kaveh directly doesn't seems able to function properly.

Don't get him wrong, he knows better than anyone how hard it must be for you to be so busy. After all, he has found himself in the same situation as you multiple times in the past.

It's just that he had never noticed the influence you have on his life until that moment, where instead of having breakfast together at the same place as always he finds himself eating preheated noodles from the microwave.

For the first time in a long time he's having trouble concentrating on his work, unable to finish the commission he's been putting off for the last week— not so surprisingly— the same amount of time since you traveled to Fontaine.

Because every time he looks at the paper on the desk he can't stop his hand from drawing sketches of you, his mind clouded with questions about your safety and how you are doing.

Kaveh doesn't really know how to control that feeling so he does the only thing he knows in situations like this; Overwork himself. Going from basically doing nothing all week to creating almost a month's worth of work in a few days.

Of course, it doesn't take much for his friends to notice, trying to reason with him more than once. However, if there is something to recognize from Kaveh it is his stubbornness, reassuring them that everything is completely under control.

It's only until he ends up falling asleep during a conversation with Tighnari that he decides to take action into his own hands, sending you a letter telling you about the situation because your boyfriend can barely stay awake during the day and has been living of coffee.

And despite his reproaches towards Tighnari, he can't help but feel glad the moment you return to Sumeru a few days earlier than anticipated, updating you on every little detail that happened while you were gone and sleeping for almost a full day no long after. He may thank Tighnari later.

Unlike the others, Neuvillette feels totally fine after you left.

Of course he notice your absence and perhaps your name has appeared in his mind more than three times in the day but that's all. There is no need to worry about it, Take all the time you need.

He continues with his routine as always. He is also a very busy person so he doesn't think a lot of it. He's just walking around in the same place where you met because he's taking a short break. Nothing more than that.

In fact, you might even be able to see him ordering at the same coffee shop where you had your first date, sitting at the same table he sat at back then. But that isn't related to this situation, so please continue what you are doing.

But if you notice how Fontaine has fallen into heavy rain this last month, he will just reassure you that it's completely normal. Probably is just the weather that hasn't been stable lately. Nothing to worry about. Everything is under control as it always has been.

Yet, even if he manages to fool himself, all the melusines notice the way his gaze wanders from the documents on his desk to the empty seat next to him. His eyes shining every moment he hears the door of his office open just to met with the disappointment in them when he realizes it's not you on the other side.

Because despite his attempts to distract himself, it's simply impossible when every place he goes has some memory of you. He knows you won't be away for long so why does he feel like something is missing when you're not around?

Melusines try to talk with him, even requesting help to Furina, but it doesn't seems to be an end of the countless rains that has been occurring since you left.

He will just continue denying his feelings over and over, completely oblivious of them and the attempts of others to cheer him up.

It's hard for Neuvillette to understand the reason for his the emptiness he feels, but when he sees you once again he can't help but notice the great sense of relief that comes with you, immediately asking you how you are doing and making sure you feel welcome.

Maybe with the pass of the time he will be able to come in terms with his feelings but for now all he wants to do is to spend more time with you.

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Begged & Borrowed Time (xxxii) (ao3)

(An update to celebrate the end of @nessianweek ❤️)

Chapter 32: Cassian flies down to Velaris for the first time since his recovery and Nesta receives not one but two visitors at the House of Wind.

(Prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

Nesta felt Rhysand long before she found him.

As she rose from the chair beside Elain’s bed, skirting the sunlight that streamed in through the wide windows of the bedchamber, the High Lord’s presence was something slick and dark, snaking through the corridors of the House of Wind like a long-fingered shadow— stretching, searching.

Testing.

Her attention was pulled towards the library at the end of the corridor, and it felt familiar, that pull. That power. The way it glided across her skin, needled at her senses like it was trying to lure her out; similar in the way of distant cousins, so many generations removed.

With reluctance, Nesta followed.

Every step she took down the hallway seemed to bring her closer to something heavy, a dark touch against her skin that was as cold as the midnight sky in the middle of winter. It made the silver in her veins writhe, and when at last Nesta pushed open the door to the House of Wind’s private library, she wasn’t at all surprised to find a single chair filled by the empty hearth.

In the blink of an eye, somehow two weeks had passed since Nesta had last laid eyes on the High Lord of the Night Court.

She couldn’t really say she’d missed him.

“Where is Cassian.”

It was a question that might have been wrapped in thorns for the way it came out, barbed enough that even Nesta was surprised. Her voice seemed to echo in the emptiness of the library, the vast space silent, draped with the light of the noonday sun.

The High Lord flicked a hand towards the windows, a vague gesture towards the city down below.

Silver rings gleamed on his fingers, a burst of starlight against the impenetrable black of his shirt and pants, and as his dark eyes lifted, Rhysand kept his face blank and impassive, relaxing into his chair as Nesta paused in the doorway, letting the shadows fall across her as she lingered, hardly daring to step forward into the sunlight. Rhysand was bathed in it— a warm slant of golden light burnishing his sable hair and illuminating the sharp cut of his jaw as he tilted his head to the side, cataloguing her hesitation.

If he realised that he was the last person in the entire realm that Nesta wanted to see today, he didn’t show it. Rhysand merely rested an elbow on the arm of his chair, curling his fingers towards his palm.

“Nesta,” he said, a curious expression flitting across his face, like he was trying to summon an ember of warmth when he spoke. “I came to see how you were doing.”

A lie if ever there was one.

Rhysand might as well have had ulterior motives written right across his damned forehead.

He sat back, crossing one ankle over his knee in a stance that was only deceptively casual. Nesta wasn’t a fool; Rhysand might have appeared calm, like the mirrored surface of a still lake, but beneath… she knew his display of ease was just as false as her own. Through narrowed eyes she watched him, feeling the flames lick at her bones as they coursed through her like a whisper, a lethal undercurrent every bit as potent as Rhysand’s.

“Where is Cassian?” she asked again, folding her arms over her chest and remaining, steadfast, in the shadowed corner by the door.

“In the city,” Rhysand answered, letting his hand drop to pluck at a piece of lint at his knee. “The flight will be good for him. He needs to rebuild the strength in his wings.”

Nesta said nothing.

Rhysand’s eyes glinted. “Did he not tell you?”

There was something cruel there, something biting that said the High Lord didn’t like the way Cassian seemed to act as though Nesta had become the centre of his world. Somehow, something told her he was hoping she’d say no.

But Cassian had told her. Had knocked tentatively on her door that morning, stuck his head around the frame and asked if she wanted to join him. He’d been building up to it for days, taking small fights here and there, never far from the House roof, and even though he always asked, Nesta had never stepped out to watch him. She preferred to linger in the shadows, like it might protect her somehow. But Cassian had always come right back to her when he touched ground, like he couldn’t stay away too long, and with the sun climbing higher in the sky, she thought he might have returned by now.

Not that she was concerned.

Not really.

She just couldn’t keep her mind from straying to that night when everything had fallen apart, when she’d been lying on that cold floor, unable to do anything but watch as he lay broken and too far from her reach, his wings in tatters, his blood spilling on the stone.

What if he was hurt? What if it was too soon, his wings not strong enough to bear his weight yet—

“How are you, anyway?” Rhysand asked, hauling Nesta back to the present.

It was almost conversational, almost like he cared.

Suspicion crawled along her spine, dripping thick as oil. In the five days since Rhysand had last visited the House of Wind - for that godforsaken dinner that Nesta had heartily declined Cassian’s invitation to - he had seemed entirely content to leave her be, learning of her welfare through questions posed to either Cassian or Azriel, and yet now Rhysand sat in that chair, in the library that had become Nesta’s source of peace, asking her how she was. She didn’t fail to miss the way his eyes flicked to her folded arms, like he could sense the fire gathering there behind her ribs, pooling at her fingertips.

“Fine,” she bit out, looking right past him and out of the windows, to the sun-drenched city below. The river was a silver ribbon running through the winding streets, glimmering as the midday sun beat down upon its length, and she knew that if she only stepped forward, the light would brush her cheeks and warm her skin.

She didn’t move.

The power beneath her skin coiled, curling in on itself as if preparing to strike, and Rhysand’s face was a mask of indifference as he followed her gaze to the windows. Tapping a finger gently on his knee, he looked back once more at the hands Nesta wrapped around herself. Something flickered in his violet eyes, the stars there winking out as his attention snagged on the hands she kept concealed. The High Lord cocked his head to the side, examining her the way one might look at a beast in the woods.

His lips parted as he leaned forwards, eyebrows drawing together as he looked at her with a kind of scrutiny Nesta hadn’t felt since her mother had died.

And then—

“Cassian will kill me, but I need to know what happened that night at Hybern. Inside the Cauldron.”

Every bone, every muscle, every nerve in Nesta’s entire body locked, stiffening as Rhys’ voice quieted.

She should have known, she thought, as her heart pounded indignantly in her chest. The moment she saw him there, waiting for her, she should have known the questions were coming. Questions he’d asked before— ones she hadn’t answered then, and certainly didn’t feel like answering now.

“I told you last time,” she answered, her voice a rasp that threatened to cut her throat on its way out. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Fury bubbled in her gut, stealing her breath as she watched Feyre’s mate look at her with barely-concealed disdain, his lip curling as he dragged his eyes across her frame. In another life, another time, perhaps Nesta might have found a way to get along with Rhysand. Maybe even like him. But if she was a fire refusing to relent, then so was he. All her sharpness, all her stubbornness… it was thrown back at her, reflected in his eyes. Like calls to like, she’d heard them say, and as Rhysand looked at her with a glare that she knew was identical to her own, she wondered if in this case, like didn’t call to like, but repelled it.

“Is that all you’re here for?” she hissed. “To see what you can gain by what happened to Elain and I in that throne room?”

Somehow, his face darkened even further. A shadow crossed his eyes, his hands clenched into fists as tight as Nesta’s own, and whatever patience he’d had before, it was fraying now, perilously close to snapping. His power rumbled, like a distant thunderhead about to break. He closed his eyes, as if letting it wash over him, and when he opened them again, there was a grim determination shining in the violet.

“You feel it,” he said, his voice a low whisper. “Don’t lie to me, Nesta. I know.” He held up a hand, spread his fingers and exposed his palm to her. She felt that rumble of darkness again, like it was skirting the edges of the House library, lurking. “I can feel whatever it is the Cauldron gave you. And I might have let it lie, but then Cassian mentioned the House magic had changed—”

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Nesta growled, and this time it was true. She really didn’t have any idea what he meant about the House changing, and Cassian hadn’t said a word to her about it—

Rhys barrelled on, as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

“Your power needs to be controlled,” he said, and if she wasn’t convinced of his arrogance, she’d have sworn that concern shaded his words. “You may not believe me, but you’re my sister-in-law now. I came to check that you and Elain were both well, for Feyre’s sake if nothing else.” He ran his hand over his hair, took a breath. “I want to see if Elain—”

“Stay away from her,” Nesta hissed.

“She may need a healer—”

“What she needs is to be kept as far away from all of you as possible.”

“‘All of you’?” he echoed darkly. “And does that include Cassian? Shall I tell him to stay away, too?”

Nesta folded her arms, refused to answer. The ice that had burrowed deep into her bones reared, and a chill skirted down her spine as pressure began to build in her fingertips, pushing against her skin, begging for release. It felt like… destruction, pure and simple. Nesta clenched her fists, taking a deep breath in an effort to force the burning cold back down again, right into the deepest recesses of herself, and when she looked up and met Rhysand’s eye, she saw his lips thin, and felt his own power rumbling in answer as her own battled to stay present.

Those starless eyes were utterly flat as he curled his hands around the carved wooden arm rests of his chair.

And then she felt something brush against her— against her mind.

It felt like claws, sharp enough to tear through the fabric of her thoughts, like he might crack her open to see what was hidden inside.

The sound that left her was one of horror as she stumbled backwards, her spine flush with the wall as she pinned the High Lord with a ferocious glare. Her palms were flat against the wood-panelled wall, the fire in her burning, and even though Rhysand’s eyes remained steady - like he was trying hard not to startle her - there was a tendril of shadow, no more substantive than mist, still pressing at the boundaries of her mind— boundaries she’d never noticed as a human.

Never needed to notice.

The hair on her arms rose, her skin pebbled as she fought to control her breathing. She knew Rhysand could enter minds, but he hadn’t ever tried to enter hers before. That brush of power felt unnervingly like a hand, tapping softly at the mental barrier she had unwittingly constructed around her mind, and it was enough to make her blood run cold— colder than the ice inside her ever could.

A snarl ripped free of her.

“Nesta, you need to learn control—“ he began.

“Leave,” she hissed.

“This is my house,” Rhysand tossed back.

Nesta glanced once to the windows— the sunlight outside, the city that she didn’t want to see any closer. Something inside her recoiled, and yet still, she scowled as she pushed away from the wall.

“Then I’ll leave,” she spat. “I’ll leave this whole damned place, and when Feyre returns, you can be the one to tell her why her sister is lost somewhere in Prythian.”

Rhysand gritted his teeth, his starless eyes cold and ruthless as he pushed to his feet. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he gave her one long, lingering look that scorched. With an elegant hand, he straightened his black shirt, a deep frown heavy on his brow as disapproval radiated from him in waves. Whatever fraction of warmth he’d managed to conjure before, it was gone now.

“Good day, then,” he said sharply.

Nesta didn’t answer, only watched him march past her to leave before she slammed the door closed behind him.

***

Velaris was a beauty in the sunlight.

The river gleamed like the shattered surface of a diamond, shifting with the current, and as Cassian looked out over its banks from ground level, he realised how much he had missed it. Missed this, losing himself in the same city he’d spent fifty years fighting to leave. He hadn’t thought at all how much he might miss this place during those long years Rhys was under the mountain, but now, as he tilted his head back and filled his lungs, he swore he’d never forget again.

From somewhere in the distance, he could hear the sound of the market, a thousand voices on the wind like chimes, and the air itself was perfumed with lemon verbena and sea salt. Cassian took another deep breath of it, leaning his forearms on the railing overlooking the river, and thanking the Mother that he was able to stand there on that bridge at all.

Grateful— so grateful that the city had survived Hybern’s attack, and he had survived Hybern’s throne room.

His wings twitched at the memory. The flight down had been a strain on the freshly-healed membrane, but the burning he’d felt had been one of muscles remembering what it was to work, not pain. He’d felt the wind on his face and the elation fizzing in his blood, and for an hour he’d wandered the city before heading to the Palace of Thread and Jewels to place an order for a handful of dresses that didn’t seem too dissimilar to what Nesta had worn below the wall. He’d ordered some for Elain too, and charged the lot to Rhys’ account. And now, he was content to merely stand by and watch, to let the city roll by as the sun warmed his face, resting his wings as he relished the ache.

It was there, looking out over the Rainbow, that a familiar scent was carried to him on the wind.

“I don’t need a nursemaid, you know,” Cassian said dryly, keeping his eyes fixed on the city before him.

He could practically hear Mor roll her eyes as she joined him at the edge, looping an arm through his and pulling him away from the railing. Beneath the sun, she was practically gilded, her blonde hair shining almost the exact same shade as the golden necklace around her neck. She nudged him in the ribs with an elbow as she nodded to his wings and scowled.

“I heard you’d flown down here and had to check for myself.” She huffed. “Az is going to win the bet, isn’t he?”

Cassian laughed softly. “Sorry?” he offered, stretching his wings with a grin. There was only a little tug of pain now, and he was certain that he’d be back to flying miles a day within a few short weeks, well within the timeframe Az had set when he’d bet Mor those ten gold coins.

“I don’t know whether or not to be insulted,” Cassian continued, letting Mor lead him across the bridge and into the winding city streets. “Az had more confidence in me than you did.”

“It’s nothing to do with confidence,” Mor protested, her painted lips parting as her jaw dropped. “I just didn’t want you to push yourself too hard.”

It was Cassian’s turn to nudge her in the ribs. He’d almost forgotten how easy it was between them— the banter of friends who had known one another so long. And yet, he’d always thought that when Mor smiled and laughed, there were no secrets to be had between them. Nothing they failed to share. He turned his head to the side as they walked and studied her, wondering what else she’d kept close to her chest all this time.

“Drink?” she suggested, pausing at the threshold of a riverfront cafe, tilting her head towards the round wooden tables shaded by pale yellow umbrellas. Lemon trees were dotted between tables, citrus-scented candles already lit in the centre of each.

Cassian nodded, letting himself be herded towards a table at the back, and within ten minutes - like the staff had dropped everything in their rush to serve members of their Lord’s circle - Mor was seated with her back to the river, cold drink in hand as, idly, she stirred the crushed ice with a straw. Cassian didn’t know whether he wanted to grimace or not; the recognition he received on the street had buoyed him once, made him feel like the world lay at his feet.

It felt sour, now.

He shook his head, fingers curling around a tall glass of water. Gratefully he drank, but still, he couldn’t stop the curiosity from taking hold whenever he looked over at the blonde he’d come to view as a sister.

Really— what else had Mor neglected to tell him over the centuries?

“So,” he said, leaning back in his seat after letting the silence stretch for a beat too long. “Are you ever going to tell me about the human you mentioned back in Illyria?”

Mor’s face fell. Her fingers slackened around the edge of her glass. “Cass…”

He shook his head. “Come on. Don’t you think it’s been secret long enough?”

She hesitated, the bracelets at her wrists sliding down towards her elbow with a musical clink as she tucked an errant piece of hair behind her ear. He’d known her long enough to know well that it was one of her tells— an easy way of avoiding eye contact. For a moment he was sure that she was going to leave him sitting in silence, her eyes never straying from the ice beginning to melt in her drink, but then, so quietly he barely heard her, Mor said:

“We met during the war.”

Cassian felt his entire body still. Mor’s eyes were dark, like the memory alone veiled them with grief, and each word seemed to tear its way up her throat, like she had to force her tongue to shape the words.

“I was in love— so deeply I thought the world might stop turning if we were parted. I was so sure that once the war was over, we’d be together. We’d be happy, for whatever amount of time fate granted us. And I was prepared to give up everything. To leave here. To leave you, and Rhys, and Az, and never look back. I was ready to leave it all.” A pause. Heavy, loaded with hurt so many centuries old. “And then the wall went up.”

Her voice caught; stuttered.

“It took me years to find a way through, and when I did… it was too late.”

Cassian swore he could feel her loss radiating from her even now, and his heart twisted with sympathy as he said, gently, “Tell me about him.”

Still, Mor didn’t look up. Slowly she reached out, dragged a finger around the rim of her glass as if searching for something to do with her hands.

“She was a queen.”

She.

Cassian blinked.

The words stalled on his tongue, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for the right thing to say. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had his fair share of lovers of both sexes over the years, but Mor had kept this secret so close to her chest that he’d had no idea. Not even the faintest suspicion. And a queen…

He supposed it made sense now, why Mor had sneered so decidedly at the human queens they’d met in the Archeron manor.

With a frown carving a deep line between his brows, slowly Cassian leaned forward and placed his hand on Mor’s wrist, watching as her fingers stilled on the edge of her glass.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “And I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t tell me.”

“It was just… easier to keep things the way they were,” she shrugged. Her eyes remained fixed on her drink, on the table beneath it. “It hurt, Cass. To know that she lived her life and then just… died. Without me.” Pain limned her face, tightened her jaw and made her voice a whisper. “Their lives are so brief— so fleeting. Everything I said before… I was just trying to protect you.” Another shrug punctuated her words, and at last - at last - Mor looked up. Her eyes were wide. “Maybe I didn’t go about it in the best way…”

Cassian couldn’t stop the snort that escaped him.

Mor’s eyes rolled, her huff soft as she folded her arms and rested them on the table. “Nesta and I won’t suddenly be the best of friends, but I can admit that I was wrong. I just… didn’t want to see you hurt.”

“I know,” Cassian said, shrugging as he rested an elbow on the arm of the wooden chair, curling his hand into a fist beneath his cheek. “But she’s my mate, Mor.”

It was the first time he’d said the words out loud to her, and although a shade crossed her brown eyes, she didn’t seem shocked. Her sigh was so quiet it was masked by the breeze.

“I know,” she echoed. When Cassian opened his mouth to ask how, blithely she waved a hand. “Truth, remember?” She smiled wryly. “I knew the moment she was tipped out of that Cauldron.”

He shook his head. “I felt it long before that.”

Mor hummed, welcoming the way the conversation shifted, tilted away from the parts of her left most vulnerable. “It wasn’t as strong then. Her mortality… it dimmed it, masked it just like the wall dampens our powers when we cross the border.”

And yet, Cassian thought, it didn’t really matter, did it? The how or why or when. He felt it now, stronger than ever, and as though he was pulled by an invisible string, his head turned, looking out across the river to the mountains on the other side of the city— to the House built right into the rock.

The windows gleamed, reflected the sun. And he wondered… which one did she sit behind? And how far was the distance between them now? Could he measure it in heartbeats?

“I miss her,” he said when he tore his eyes away. “I saw her this morning, and yet I miss her. What the fuck is that?”

Mor reached out to grasp his hand, and when he looked, he swore he saw tears linger behind her eyes, silver lining her lashes.

“You’re lucky” she said. “So lucky, Cass.”

He didn’t feel especially lucky, and yet, as he looked back to the House…

Cassian pushed away from the table.

“Yeah,” he said softly, nodding slowly. And as he stretched his wings and shot Mor a wry smile, he looked back across the city to the House and felt it pulling him back, a line in his chest as tight as a bow string. With one last look, and one last smile, Cassian looked to the woman he’d known for so many centuries and turned his back.

Decidedly he said,

“I’m going home.”

***

It was with aching wings that Cassian landed smoothly on the roof of the House, yet he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he tilted his head back and took a last look at the sky, the sun beating down on his skin. The wind ran fingers through his hair, brushed his cheeks, and Cassian savoured it: the elation that came with flying, that feeling that tasted so much like freedom.

It had been harder, flying up from the city rather than down. The muscles that had only slightly pulled with exertion before were protesting now, as if to remind him that he still had a little way to go before being back to full strength, but—

It didn’t matter.

The sun was shining, the day was warm and beautiful, and he’d just taken his first proper flight in weeks. As he entered the House in search of Nesta - because wasn’t he always in search of her these days? - he didn’t think there was anything the Mother could throw at him that could ruin his good mood.

And then he found her.

Nesta was curled on the sofa in the library, her legs tucked beneath her, like she wanted to make herself as small as possible. Though a book lay open in her lap, pages splayed, every line of her was stiff and weighted with tension, like she’d waded into a lake with rocks in her pocket. Her eyes didn’t move across the page— didn’t move at all in fact, not even to glance his way when he entered the room. Nesta kept her attention on the page before her, staring down like she wanted the entire room to swallow her.

Suddenly, Cassian felt like his heart was in his throat.

The grin that had been plastered to his face dropped, his steps slowing, as if he suddenly felt he had to move slowly.

“Good book?” he asked with a breeziness he didn’t feel, throwing his weight down onto the sofa beside her. Anything to provoke a reaction.

He wanted her to scowl, wanted her to glare at him, to ask him what he did with all that battlefield grace when he wasn’t using it. Come on, his eyes seemed to say when they looked her way.

Nesta said nothing.

“I went to a dressmaker today,” he said lightly, casting an arm wide and letting it rest on the back of the sofa. His fingers were an inch from brushing her shoulder, and gods, he longed to close that distance and let his skin brush hers, even if it was just for a moment.

Nesta blinked.

“Maybe you could come with me next time. Let her take your measurements properly.”

“No,” Nesta answered quickly, stiffly, her eyes still fixed on the pages of her book, like she might find solace there if only she searched hard enough.

“You liked the city before,” Cassian said gently, cutting a glance to the bracelet still tied around her wrist.

The one he’d put there.

The one that, even now, she never took off.

“No.”

Hopelessness was a bitter taste, cresting in his chest like a brutal wave as Nesta turned the page in her book. He was certain she hadn’t read a word since he’d entered, and yet she sniffed and focused her attention entirely on the pages before her, like he wasn’t there at all.

He frowned.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable, and sensing that Nesta wanted nothing but solitude, Cassian sighed before rising from the sofa. He stretched his wings, watching her, waiting for her to ask him to stay— waiting for her to just look at him.

She didn’t.

He didn’t know what had set her off today, but somehow, he didn’t think he’d get an answer even if he asked.

“I’ll… leave you to it, then,” he said uneasily.

Nesta sniffed a little, but still, said nothing.

He wasn’t fool enough to think she’d ask him to stay, and yet still, he hoped. Like a fucking idiot, he hoped that she might turn to him and let him in.  Cassian felt his heart crack, her pain like a razor that sliced into him with her every dejected blink, and his fingers twitched as he fought the urge to fold her in his arms and hold her until everything stopped hurting.

He couldn’t stop himself from leaning over, though, and dropping a kiss to the crown of her head as he rose to his feet. He didn’t miss the way her eyes closed, like part of her wanted to savour it. His hand cradled the back of her head as his lips touched her hair, like he might be able to hold her to his mouth, kiss away the pain. He curled his fingers in her hair before pulling back, giving her a gentle smile as he eased away.

“I’ll be upstairs,” he said.

Briefly, Nesta looked up. She met his eye, her face filled with regret, and it was all Cassian could do to brush a thumb across her cheek before he left— smiling gently, even as his heart broke.

***

“Well, don’t you look terrible.”

Azriel’s voice was a cutting drawl, brutally acerbic as Cassian entered the small sitting room that bridged the gap between his room and the Shadowsinger’s. His brother sat alone, occupying one of the four chairs that had sat before that hearth for centuries now, with Truth-teller balanced in one scarred palm as he inspected the blade. The flat edge, freshly oiled and polished, shone like a mirror.

Cassian sank heavily into the chair that was always reserved for him in this room, allowing the cushions to swallow him as he rubbed his temples between his thumb and forefinger. “Rough day,” he said with a barely-there shrug.

Az lifted a brow. “It’s barely past noon.”

When Cassian didn’t answer, Azriel laid Truth-teller across his knee, and leaned forward as his shadows darted out to wind around the legs of Cassian’s chair.

Nosy fuckers.

“Rough flight?” Az asked.

“Not really.” Cassian shrugged again, more definitive this time. His eyes flicked up. “Don’t worry. You’ll still win your bet.”

Az smiled, wicked, before returning his attention to the weapon in his lap. “Mor will be furious.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and groaned, dragging a palm down his face. “It’s Nesta,” he said from behind his fingers. “Something’s bothered her today.”

After a moment, Az glanced up from his blade. “Rhys was here earlier.”

Another groan rumbled from somewhere deep in Cassian’s chest, a sound so weary he was astounded he didn’t fold. “How many times do I need to say it,” he muttered. “Pushing her isn’t going to help anybody.”

“You know Rhys,” Az shrugged. “He’s curious. And you know as well as I do that he can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

Cassian tipped his head back. “Sometimes I wish he would. That inability to do nothing got him stuck Under the Mountain fifty fucking years ago, and it’s exactly what’s going to turn around and bite us in the ass now.”

Azriel said nothing. Shrewd, he looked Cassian over, taking in every ounce of tension that lay thick across his frame. A small furrow carved a path between his brows.

“How is she?” he asked.

Cassian shook his head as he straightened in his chair, leaning an elbow on the curved wooden armrest and resting his chin atop his curled fist. “She’s in the library,” he answered. “Never seems to leave it. Like the books are the only thing that can comfort her.”

It’s the only escape I have, she’d told him once. A lifetime ago, in that stable below the wall.

Shadows whispered at Azriel’s ankles as the Spymaster took a final look at Truth-teller before sliding the blade back into the rune-embossed sheath. His eyes carried the echo of concern— not as potent as Cassian’s, but still there was something there, lurking just beneath the hazel, that said Azriel cared in that quiet, unassuming way of his for the woman sitting in silence downstairs.

“This is all new to her,” Az said softly. “She needs time to adjust.”

“She’s drowning, Az.”

Azriel sighed. “It’s not good for her, staying closeted away up here. She needs some fresh air. Needs to see people that aren’t us.”

Cassian stilled.

People that aren’t us.

Something clicked.

“Of course,” he murmured. “She won’t go into the city, but maybe… Maybe I can bring someone to her instead.”

Az looked confused, but Cassian leaned forward in his chair.

“I need you to do me a favour.”

***

The early afternoon light slanted across the library, warm where it fell across the patterned carpets. The room was washed with ochre, bright and rich, and yet—

Nesta hadn’t moved since Rhysand had left, frozen like one the statues that used to grace her father’s gardens.

Motionless and cold as stone, she sat with the same book in her lap that she had been pretending to read when Cassian had returned from the city earlier, the pages unturned, unread, as cracks formed in her chest that felt like valleys. She had watched the sun trace a path across the sky, pretending to read in the hopes it might help her forget all else, but it was useless. Just like the statues in her father’s garden, she was stiff, immovable— her eyes flat and hollow, feeling more like an imitation of life than anything else.

Bitterly, she sighed.

And just when she was about to close the book and give up altogether, the library door opened with a whisper against the carpeted floor. Cassian entered first, shouldering his way through the doorframe, holding the door open for Azriel and, behind him, a woman that Nesta did not recognise. A woman with wings— an Illyrian.

“Hey, Nes,” Cassian said, his voice quiet, like she was a deer he didn’t want to startle.

She blinked— said nothing. Both Azriel and the woman smelled of cold, like snow and wind, and though she wanted to ask so many questions, she couldn’t find the energy to speak.

The stranger stood in the centre of the library, the light gliding smoothly over her burnished skin as warm brown eyes took in the scene before her. With something like wonder on her face she looked at the windows offering a vista of the city below, and only with effort did she tear her attention away, noting the towering shelves that lined the walls before letting her gaze land, finally, on Nesta, sitting curled upon her sofa.

She took one look at her - just one - before turning sharply on her heel and looking up at Cassian and Azriel both. The move exposed her back, and the wings she kept tucked tight against her spine. As Nesta looked, she fought the urge to gasp, smothering the horror as it built. With the sunlight shining at an angle, each raised welt on the stranger’s wings was cast into brutal relief; deep valleys made by old and deliberate wounds appeared all the more vicious in the direct light, and the membrane of her wings was littered with so much scar tissue Nesta thought it was a wonder she could lift them at all.

But the stranger did not seem to care that the sunlight exposed her scars. She merely tilted her head, the movement causing her ruined wings to shift.

“You can go now,” she said simply.

Azriel nodded, slipping back through the door without another word, but Cassian… he hesitated. The stranger put her hands on her hips, a gesture that suggested she would brook no argument as she jerked her head towards the windows, braided ebony hair falling over her shoulder.

“Go down to the city. Go to Windhaven. Go anywhere. Surely you have better things to be doing than supervising a conversation between friends, General.”

Nesta frowned. Friends— she didn’t think she’d ever had many of those, and yet the dark-haired stranger stood there with her damaged wings, her cheeks still flushed from the cold of wherever she’d been before, and declared herself Nesta Archeron’s friend. She blinked against the strangeness of it, and as she watched, Cassian looked up and met her eye, a glimmer of hope dancing across his face that made some small part of her want to reach out and grasp it, if only to keep that spark in his eyes for a little while longer.

At length, he nodded.

“I’ll be training on the roof if you need me,” he said.

The woman grinned.

“We won’t,” she said, so saccharine it almost pulled a laugh from Nesta’s throat. Even Cassian smiled softly at that, his eyes flicking back to Nesta as if he, too, had sensed the laugh she’d almost loosed. Holding his hands up in surrender, he backed away, slipping through the door without another word. In his wake, the woman turned and offered Nesta a smile that was gentle and soft— kind in a way so few had ever been towards her.

“Nesta?” she said, walking slowly across the library floor. “It’s me. Emerie.” She gave her a small wave. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

There was hesitation in the way Nesta unfolded on that sofa, letting her feet drop to the floor as she sat up straighter. Every move was slow, like she was still waiting for a trick to be revealed. Her eyes darted to the door, but Emerie shook her head.

“They’re gone,” she said with a shrug. “Nosy busy-bodies the pair of them, but I figured it would be good for us to catch up, just the two of us.” She nodded to the sofa, to the empty space that yawned beside Nesta. “May I?”

Nesta didn’t know what to say.

Suddenly, she felt the absurd urge to cry. The encounter with Rhysand that morning had plagued her all day, the words he’d said thrown back at her in the empty silence of the library. If not for Cassian - and Azriel, she supposed - Nesta didn’t think she’d see a single friendly face, what with Elain rarely able to leave her bed, and it was beginning to build now— a kind of loneliness she’d never really felt before, starting to wear her thin.

She looked to the door again, nodding as Emerie sat down, adjusting her wings with stiff movements over the low back of the library sofa.

“Cassian has been kind to me,” Nesta began, “but I’m glad to see another friendly face.”

Emerie’s brow furrowed. “Are they in short supply around here?”

Nesta shrugged. “You could say that.”

Her eyes travelled to Emerie’s wings, to the scars right down the centre of each. The injuries were a mirror of one another, the jagged edges and raised tissue in the exact same place, like somebody had taken a careless hand to each wing with purpose. Emerie’s face turned a shade paler as she watched Nesta take in those deliberate wounds.

“My father is a cruel man,” she said in explanation, as if it were the only thing that needed to be said.

Behind her ribs, Nesta felt her heart constrict.

“So was my mother,” she whispered in answer. Her eyes went to the scar on her thumb, the brutal reminder of all she’d endured. “And my grandmother, too.”

Emerie pressed a hand to that scar on Nesta’s thumb, as if she might be able to mask it somehow. “I trust they’re gone now?” Nesta nodded, and Emerie patted her hand lightly, like the news pleased her. “Good. Maybe soon, my father will be too.”

Her voice was blithe and dry, and yet there was still a spark in her deep brown eyes, one that Nesta suspected Emerie had fought hard to rekindle. She studied the woman before her— Emerie’s scars so much more obvious and devastating than Nesta’s own, and yet… Emerie had written her letters, had found joy in her books. Was still living, despite it all.

“How do you…” Nesta started. Failed.

How do you carry on?

How do you open your eyes each morning and still drag yourself from bed, despite everything you’ve endured?

Emerie seemed to understand anyway.

“He gave me life,” she answered, “but that doesn’t mean he can bend me to his will. He might have broken me once, but that doesn’t mean I am without value.” She shuddered, cleared her throat. “And besides, broken things can always be mended. And they are always stronger afterwards.” She met Nesta’s eyes without fear, and if she noticed the silver there, she said nothing. After a moment, her dark eyes sparked. “But I didn’t come here to cry, Nesta Archeron from Below the Wall.”

She said it like it was a title, and Nesta couldn’t help the wry huff of a laugh that escaped her.

“Then why are you here?” she asked with a raised brow.

Emerie grinned in answer, lifting up the canvas bag she’d brought and pulling out a book. “I’m here because I’m  sick of talking books with you over letters. They’re so incredibly drawn out and slow. I’d rather do it in person.”

She handed it over, the cover emblazoned with the name Sellyn Drake. Nesta felt the smile pull at her mouth, a feeling so foreign these days that she almost wanted to hide it.

“The smuttiest I could find,” Emerie said before Nesta could bury that smile beneath a glare. When Nesta looked up, the Illyrian’s eyes were practically dancing with glee, and Nesta couldn’t help it. She laughed— laughed, for the first time since Hybern.

She’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

She felt her face drop, felt heat build behind her eyes. Not the burn of the silver fire, but the warmth of tears threatening to spill, and Emerie leaned over, patted her on the hand once again, as if to tell her it was okay— to cry if she needed to.

Nesta shook her head, forced away her tears. Emerie smiled softly, and as if already knowing what they needed, a silver tea service appeared on the low table before the sofa, steam rising in curls from a decorated silver teapot. Courtesy of the House, Nesta assumed, and for a moment her mind went back to what Rhysand had said earlier, about the House’s magic changing.

She hadn’t asked for the tea.

And yet there it was, two porcelain cups sitting beside a bowl piled high with sugar cubes, a pair of small silver tongs lying perfectly straight alongside. Nesta tilted her head, frowned as the tea fragranced the air, but said nothing as Emerie clapped with delight and reached over to lift the teapot, filling both porcelain cups before reaching for the sugar.

“You know, I was surprised,” Emerie began after a moment, dropping a cube of sugar into her tea,  “when the almighty General of the Night Court came into my father’s shop and asked for book recommendations.”

“Like I said,” Nesta shrugged, leaving her own tea to cool. “He’s been kind.”

Emerie raised a brow. “More than kind, I’d wager.”

Nesta felt the heat of a blush on her cheeks, but flipped open the cover of the Sellyn Drake novel instead of looking up and meeting her friend’s eye. Still, Emerie pressed.

“Come on, Nesta. You’ve got to be sleeping with him.”

Nesta’s mouth dropped open— in disbelief, in protest, in laughter; she wasn’t sure. At length she took her head, dipping her gaze again.

“No,” she answered at last.

Emerie almost choked on her tea. “What? Why?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch as disbelief wrote itself across her face. “Nesta, he’s enamoured with you. And you obviously feel the same.”

Nesta waved a hand, refusing to focus on how obvious she apparently was. “Before, maybe. But it’s different now.”

“It’s easier now,” Emerie countered. “Surely.”

Nesta shook her head once more. “No, it’s not. I’m not…” she trailed off. Didn’t know how to say it. “I’m not who I was before.”

Emerie shrugged as she set down her tea. “I think he’d love you anyway.”

It was Nesta’s turn to choke.

That word— love.

She’d stopped him from saying it. Hadn’t been able to bear it; didn’t think she could stand to hear the words fall from his lips, to hear him tell her he loved her, when the woman he had fallen for was gone.

“I’m not me anymore,” Nesta whispered.

“The Nesta Archeron that wrote me letters to thank me for lending her books…” Emerie reached out, taking Nesta’s hands in her own. Her palms were warm, and Nesta wanted to pull away, afraid that the flames might make an appearance, but Emerie held tight. “I’m certain that I’m talking to her right now.”

She pushed before Nesta could protest.

“I know what it is to be… irrevocably changed by someone else’s hand. After my father cut my wings…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what happened to you in Hybern. Azriel wouldn’t tell me anything beyond the basics when I asked before he brought me here, but I think I know a little of how you’re feeling. I felt like my father had robbed me of everything that made me who I was.”

“They couldn’t heal them? Your wings?” Nesta thought of Cassian’s wings; entirely rebuilt. The way he’d looked so mournfully to the windows over the past few days, like the inability to fly had been a wound in itself. She didn’t know how Emerie had coped, if flight was as integral to the Illyrians as Cassian had made out.

Emerie shrugged. “Not in Illyria. And certainly not while my father lives. Maybe someday.”

Silence fell, but not uncomfortable. Emerie offered her a small smile.

“My point is that I remembered who I was, eventually.” Her eyes glinted. “And besides, I don’t think the General is a fickle man. I mean it, Nesta. I saw his face when I arrived. He’s exactly the same as when he walked into my shop and asked what kind of books a mortal woman might enjoy.”

Emerie’s face was soft, and Nesta glanced to the door as if expecting him to walk through it, and a small, tiny voice at the back of her mind, whispered that maybe… maybe he would still love her, regardless of what had changed.

And as she looked at Emerie, suddenly…

Suddenly, the darkness didn’t feel quite so impenetrable. Like there might be a crack somewhere that would let the light in.

“Now,” Emerie said, sinking back against the cushions and letting her wings stretch the little her scars would allow. “Are we going to keep being maudlin? Or are we going to discuss this?”

She held up the Sellyn Drake novel with one hand, its pages gilded by the afternoon sun. Nesta managed a smile, reaching for her tea and lifting the porcelain to her lips as she jerked her chin at the book Emerie held aloft.

“Go on then,” she said. “Show me just how smutty it gets.”

***

After a handful of hours, when the sun had gone down and darkness gathered on the horizon, Cassian ventured back downstairs.

It had been agony, forcing himself to remain on that roof, throwing the same punches and tossing the same daggers in a cycle, and over the course of the entire afternoon he’d tried hard to keep his mind away from the library beneath his feet. Away from the woman inside it.

Nesta hadn’t left the library yet, and Emerie hadn’t ventured upstairs to ask whether Azriel could winnow her back home.

Cassian wondered whether something had gone wrong.

After retrieving the dagger he’d just thrown from the chest of a training dummy, he abandoned the pretence and headed inside, his boots heavy on the stone floor. With each step the library grew nearer, and the silence in the House was so complete even his breaths seemed to echo.

The door was still firmly closed when he reached the hallway, the sconces lining the walls glowing gently as he approached.

And as Cassian reached for the door handle…

Nesta laughed.

The sound drifted through the thick wood of the library door, the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. It was enough to make him weak, and fuck, he’d die for that laugh.

He gripped the handle to steady himself, fingers curling around the metal, but he didn’t turn it. Even though he wanted so desperately to open that door and see her smiling…

Softly he drew away from the door, smiling to himself as Emerie’s laugh joined Nesta’s. Another peal of it rang through the hall, following him as he turned his back and walked away, chasing his steps as he headed right back the way he came. And as the sun fell fully behind the mountains and left the House of Wind in shadow, Cassian looked over his shoulder and heard that laugh again, quieter now but no less precious, and felt hope bloom in his chest.

Beautiful, fragile, perfect.

Taglist: @asnowfern @podemechamardek @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @starryblueskies7 @melphss @sv0430 @that-little-red-head @misswonderflower @fwiggle @tanishab @xstarlightsupremex @burningsnowleopard @hiimheresworld @wannawriteyouabook @hereforthenessian @valkyriesupremacy @kale-theteaqueen @moodymelanist @talkfantasytome @pyxxie

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Kinkuary Day 7

AN: Shoutout to that one time Elv and I spoke about Mingyu wearing lace panties months ago. It was a big inspiration for this, and it's been rotating in my brain since then.

Synopsis: After a lot of encouragement and motivation from you, Mingyu finally tries out something in your bedroom that he's been curious about for some time now.

General tags and warnings: Kim Mingyu x Fem! Reader, established relationship and that's it honestly lol. This is very much pwp.

Primary kink: Crossdressing.

Smut tags and warnings: Dom leaning! Reader, sub leaning! Mingyu, Mingyu in feminine lingerie, nipple play (m. and f. receiving), oral sex (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), piv sex without a condom, Reader cries very briefly due to being overwhelmed, dirty talk, some praise, hints of a size and a strength kink, brief manhandling and creampie.

Word count: 2.5k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

To say you're excited would be a gross understatement.

Exhilaration would probably be the best way to describe what you're feeling and even it doesn't adequately convey the feeling of your heart thundering in your chest and your blood simmering in your veins.

“Gyu, are you done?” You call out to your boyfriend. Hoping you don't sound too antsy or impatient. His comfort means more to you than anything else and you'd gladly wait as long as it takes for him.

“Y-Yeah um I'm coming out now,” comes his timid response. Before you can reassure him that he can take his time, he steps out of your shared bathroom. Stopping all of the air in your lungs and causing your heart to leap all the way up to your throat.

Mingyu is a gorgeous man. It still boggles your mind a little that he's a real person who exists. He looks beautiful no matter what but, now? With the lingerie the two of you spent hours agonising over adorning his massive frame? You don't think you've ever been more attracted to him in your entire life.

“Gyu,” you whisper, scanning his entire body from head to toe just to commit every detail to memory, “you look beautiful.”

The blush that colours his cheeks somehow makes him look even more gorgeous and you really don't think you can handle not touching him any longer.

“Come here, baby,” you command softly, shuffling backwards onto your shared bed. Desire coiling in the pit of your stomach as he follows you without any more prompting. The lace stretching across his large frame with every movement he makes.

You knew pink would be his colour.

Despite the embarrassment you could feel radiating from him earlier, Mingyu lets you kiss him easily. Melting against your mouth within seconds while you spread your thighs for him to make himself at home between. His large hands already desperately clutching your waist as your tongue snakes its way into his mouth. Commiting the taste of him to memory like you haven't kissed him hundreds of thousands of times before.

“My pretty boy. You look so gorgeous,” you mutter against his lips. Giggling into him when he flinches and hisses in slight pain after you snap his bra against his skin. Always so responsive. Any reply to your words is cut short by quiet gasps when you kiss along his jaw and throat. Licking and biting at every bit of skin you can.

You can feel yourself growing wetter with every whimper he lets out and shudder of him beneath your touch. It's all made worse by the hardness you can start to feel pressing against your bare slit.

An idea springs to mind and you grin wolfishly into his throat before using momentum to roll him onto his back. He blinks up at you. You'd take a few minutes to simply appreciate how endearing he looks under the lowlight of your bedroom but, you're a woman on a mission.

Mingyu moans into your mouth when your hands shove up the bra that stretches across his muscular chest. His hips bucking up into you when you palm his pecs greedily. Smiling against his lips when he shivers as your fingers lightly brush over his nipples. Mingyu's sensitivity has always been a fascination of yours. Even after being together for so many years, he's still so responsive to even your faintest touches.

You bite down on his plump lips in time with your fingers tugging on his nipples and his reaction is immediate. His hands jump from where they were fisting your sheets to gripping your thighs. Digging into their thickest parts while your fingers continue to toy with his sensitive nipples and you teasingly nip at his lip until it starts to bruise.

He whines once you separate from his lips but you soothe him with a few kisses along his jaw and neck. Determined not to get distracted this time, you continue your descent until your lips come in contact with the lace of his bra. Your clit pulses when you glance up only to find his eyes staring at you with enough intensity to stop your heart briefly. Maintaining eye contact, you kiss your way to one of his nipples.

Mingyu is the first one to look away.

His eyes flutter shut when you envelope his nipple in your mouth while your fingers continue to tug and pinch his other nipple. God, everything about him tastes delicious. Maybe you're biased. Maybe you're too far gone for him but, you're convinced Mingyu was made to melt in your mouth. Every part of him.

Based on the way he squirms underneath you and grinds his large cock against you in search of any kind of friction, you think he agrees. Your body moves against his without much input from your brain. Grinding onto him to help ease some of the dull throbbing at the apex of your thighs. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you drink in every minute shift in his expression. Especially when you swap over to his other nipple and give it the same treatment.

A strangled curse is punched from the depths of his chest when you run your teeth along his nipple. His hands shifting from your thighs to your ass. Clutching at you in an attempt to ground himself but, also to press you down onto his length. You can't help the moan that leaves your mouth when he clumsily bumps against your clit. The stimulation causing electricity to fire all along your spine.

Briefly, you allow yourself to get lost in the frenzied grinding and continue to lavish his chest with bites and sucks while your hands palm at him. His breathy whimpers and moans shoot straight to your already throbbing clit and you can feel yourself growing impatient. As much as you're enjoying having your mouth on his beautiful chest, you have another goal in mind. So, with a great deal of strength, you continue your descent down his body. Kissing down his stomach and smiling when he flinches away when you brush against a spot that's ticklish for him.

It's pavlovian the way spit starts to pool in your mouth when you reach the waistband of his panties. They looked phenomenal on him already but, with his big cock straining against the translucent lace, he looks absolutely filthy. You make a note to ask him later if he'd let you take pictures of him in this set. Or any other sets you can convince him to try on. Mingyu props himself up on his arms to watch you as you mouth at him through the fabric. Dark eyes committing every detail of this scene to memory while his thoroughly kissed lips part.

“Fuck, baby I– your mouth feels so good,” he groans, his jaw clenching when you lick his tip through the fabric. You're sure his panties are ruined now with a mix of his pre-cum and your copious amounts of spit but, you couldn't care less. You'll buy all the panties in the world for him if it means having him like this. Having teased him and yourself enough, you tug them off of him. Mingyu lifts his hips readily, just as ready as you are for whatever you're planning to give him. The panties rest just above where his stockings start and the sight of that sends one of your hands in-between your sticky thighs. Your fingers pressing into your clit in time with your other hand grasping his thick cock. Fuck. To think when you two started dating his cock used to intimidate you. Now you can't imagine anything except excitement coursing through your veins at the sight of it.

Your fingers rub circles into your clit at the same pace as your hand strokes him. It's not nearly enough for him based on his frustrated whines and jerky thrusts of his hips into your hold but, you haven't quite had your fun yet. Picking up your pace marginally, you choose then to take his tip into your mouth. Moaning around him at the taste that hits your tongue. It's so Mingyu and your fingers pick up their pace as well. You could spend hours sucking him off if he'd let you. The weight and taste of him in your mouth always makes your brain so fuzzy.

A choked whimper of your name leaves his lips as you sink further down on him. The gagging sound of him hitting the back of your throat forces a guttural sound from him and his fingers weave themselves into your hair. Mingyu, ever the sweetheart, doesn't push you further down onto him. If anything, he uses his hold on you to ground himself as you move up and down on him. It's messy and dirty and you're pretty sure your jaw is going to ache like hell tomorrow but, it's all worth it.

He shallowly thrusts into your mouth and fist, high-pitched apologies spilling from his lips every time you accidentally choke around him. You want to tell him it's fine. That you don't mind in the slightest. However, you don't think it's worth it to detach yourself from him. So, you hope your watery eyes communicate enough.

The emptiness is starting to hurt so, you push three of your fingers into your dripping entrance. They don't provide nearly enough of a stretch, especially compared to Mingyu's fingers and cock but, it'll have to do for now. It's much better than being completely empty and the stretch your fingers provide makes you moan around him. Your pace falters momentarily while you savour the sensation of your fingers and grind your clit down onto the heel of your palm. Mingyu happily picks up your slack. Fucking your mouth faster while he throws himself back into the mountain of pillows he's resting on.

You can read Mingyu like the back of your hand. Actually, you're certain you know him better than the back of your hand. When his cock starts throbbing more incessantly and his thrusts grow sloppier and sloppier, you know he's getting close.

So, you tighten your grip on the base of his cock and remove your mouth from him. His eyes are wide, watery and wild when they meet yours. You would laugh at the pout on his handsome face if you weren't too busy catching your breath and dealing with the slight sting settling in the back of your throat. Once your lungs have greedily inhaled as much air as they can, you crawl your way up his body and slot your mouth against his. Mingyu groans into you, tasting himself on your tongue while you drag your dripping folds along his bare cock.

“Gyu,” you moan into his mouth, “I want you to be a good boy and fuck m–” before you can finish your sentence, you find yourself on your back with your boyfriend towering over you. His large hands drag you in place until he's between your thighs. His eyes never leave your face. Zeroing in on every shift in your expression as he starts to push himself into you. Even after all these years, you can't help the way your fingers claw at his muscular back and your lips part readily when he sinks into you.

He leans down to kiss you, pressing his own sounds of pleasure into you until he's completely inside of you. “Gyu fuck you feel so good,” you moan into his mouth, desire clawing at your insides with every pulse of his massive cock and his hands spanning themselves along your hips. “Always make me feel so full,” you whimper, tears rolling down your face at the sheer intensity you're feeling. A sound from somewhere deep in his chest is ripped from him and he snaps his hips into you harshly. Starting a punishing pace while his hands tug your gown up to collarbones so he can kiss and lick your breasts. Giving you a taste of your own medicine as the obscene noises of his cock splitting you open ring in your ears.

“So pretty. So beautiful. Feel so tight and wet around my dick. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” he babbles into your spit smeared skin. Using his strength to his advantage to keep you pressed exactly where he wants you. The juxtaposition of this large, ridiculously strong man who you're head over heels in love with dressed up in one of the most delicate sets you've ever seen makes your head spin. The thought is enough to cause your hand to weasel its way between your two, sweat drenched, overheated bodies until your fingers find your swollen clit again.

Mingyu mutters a string of curses into your breasts when he feels the way your pussy grips him like a vice. Pulling away from you just so that he can see the way you bring yourself closer to the edge. Thoroughly kissed lips parted with your barely open eyes glossy with desire. Despite the way his balls seize at the sight, he's determined for you to cum first. He won't let himself go any other way.

So, he exploits a few weaknesses he's picked up on over the years.

A startled gasp flies from your lips when Mingyu uses his strength to shove your legs into your chest. You can already feel the angle starting to cause a burn to settle into your thighs. But fuck, does it push him impossibly deeper into you. Between that and his canines digging into your neck, it's only a matter of time until your vision blurs and your entire body free falls underneath him.

Mingyu fucks you through it all. Drawing out your climax with strokes that aren't nearly as quick but haven't dropped an ounce in intensity. All you can do is lie there and take it. Clenching and unclenching your sheets between your sweaty fists as your thighs shake underneath his somehow steady hold. You're too far gone to make out exactly what comes out of your mouth but, apparently it's enough for Mingyu to shove his face in the hollow between your neck and your shoulder and cum inside of you.

His hoarse whimpers and groans of your name unintentionally cause your walls to clamp down on him further. It's not like you can help it. How are you not going to react to your beautiful boyfriend saying your name like that while also cumming inside of you? You're only human after all.

His hold on you loosens after some time and you feel him sag against you. His cock softens inside of you but Mingyu is in no hurry to move. Humming in appreciation when your fingers toy with his hair and pressing kisses into your shoulder.

“Gyu, I love you and all but, my thighs hurt,” you say with a laugh, giggling when he profusely apologises and removes your legs from where they were pressed into your chest. Resuming his position on top of you like you're his own personal body pillow.

You know you need to get up and clean yourselves up but, you're happy to lie here and bask in his affection for just a bit longer.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Kinkuary Masterlist | Seventeen Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

[kamiraaah]

I'm curious, since we've seen Ruggie's reaction, how does Malleus react to Meemaw Draconia befriending Meemaw Bucchi? Because all I see is him somehow questioning if his grandma found true love again

Anons, you guys are giving me a lot of ideas to draw, I only have two hands! I'm not that fast!! Just kidding, I love getting your questions/hedcanons, interacting with you all never fails to make me laugh, I adore you guys <3

WELL..... It would be a somewhat unexpected scenario, but one that Malleus would not be against.

I imagine that since he was little, Malleus would know that his grandmother was an extremely lonely figure, even if he doesn't know all the details and her motivations for isolating herself from everyone (he has some deductions but obviously there are things being hidden from him).

Malleus, still very young, would probably question Lilia about her grandmother's life and why she doesn't interact with more people… Only to receive brief answers or "I don't know if we can talk about that" or "When your grandmother comes to you visit you can ask her."

So seeing his grandmother interacting with people and creating friendships would bring a kind of peace to him, maybe give him hope to see him getting closer to her (since I imagine that even if she visited him since he was very young, she would still have a great distance between them, largely because of her), or that Lilia and his grandmother can get closer again!

Now about LOVE™… I could say here that true love is not just romantic love but the friends we create along the way or family love... yadda yadda... you know aaaaall about it... BUUUUUUUUT I know exactly what you guys want (I know what you are) But imagine something like:

Malleus: Lilia, do you think we should visit Miss Bucchi?

Lilia: Huh? Where did this idea come from?

Malleus: I think it's more than appropriate to give our blessings, I mean, they've both been getting closer recently…

Lilia: What?

Malleus: I think we should bring gifts, I wonder what Miss Bucchi likes… I would have to question Ruggie about that… Oh, maybe we should take something for him too, after all he is her grandson, it would be disrespectful not to bring him anything.

Lilia: HUH??????

[rist-ix]

Hey Rist hope you're doing okay! Since by this point I've noticed that we all dislike Shadygonda with passion I've wondered do you think our girlie deserves a redemption?

ohohoHOHOHO MASSIVE misunderstanding here my friend! Shadygonda (imo) is a cunning-petty-powertripping-sweetly-selfserving little BITCH — and I love her SO MUCH!!! I want her to be worse if anything!!!

Let’s talk about her character in canon and in my personal little fanon head bubble for a moment, because I think she's by far the character I’m most curious about when it comes to motivations and goals. Because she's so. So much, all at once, and none of it seems to fit together but somehow it DOES!

Here's an incomplete list of what we know, chronologically:

Faragonda is a part of the Company of Light, alongside Bloom's parents, the blacksmith guy she keeps flirting with, Saladin from Red Fountain and Griffin from Cloudtower. In her brief flashback to their prime, they look all super young, maybe a little older than the Winx are during their school years. Early to mid twenties maybe? Thirties would be pushing it, but could work. We don’t know how their age gap is to Oritel and Marion, but probably not that big.

Griffin started out as Valtor's accomplice, but ended up joining Faragonda and the rest, presumably after having met them a few times in battle and building enough of a relationship with them that she could dare to take that final step

(I wanna emphasize: In Griffin's flashback in s3, she looks back towards her time with Valtor in a way that’s not displayed very literally, but rather plays with symbolism and stage acting a little bit. One of these days I wanna do a full breakdown of that, but for now let’s focus on the very last scene. Griffin, alone and vulnerable, clearly in distress, lands at the gates of Alfea, which open for her immediately. Alfea, not Domino or Red Fountain. The place most heavily tied to Faragonda. This, to me at least, implies that it was Faragonda who offered her a way out and welcomed her with open arms — maybe she's even the one who convinced her to defect in the first place.)

The company of Light continues to fight the ancient coven, Daphne is born and grows up (16-20 years old?), Queen Marion gets pregnant with Bloom. Faragonda is presumably present for all of that, and has a good relationship with all characters involved. (Except maybe for Daphne, we never see them interact. But nothing is stated to the contrary either.) The final battle happens, Oritel and Marion are missing, presumed dead, their children as well. Hagen fucks off into irrelevance. Faragonda, Griffin and Saladin are the only ones who survive and stay in contact.

There's a non-specific time frame in which we don’t know anything about Faragonda, roughly from the Fall of Domino — or maybe a few weeks prior to that, if we assume Valtor's capture happened before the final showdown on Domino — to the day Bloom arrives at Alfea and kicks of the main story. What was Faragonda up to in all those years? Nobody knows.

Current time! Faragonda greets her new students, like every year. Welcomes them to Alfea, like every year. Tells them to, and I quote, “Stay away from the Witches of Cloud Tower”. You know, like every year. We know she does that every year, because this is Stella's second rodeo and she knows the warning by heart already.

Already we have a FASCINATING new question: what happened between Griffin and Faragonda??? She and Saladin are still on good terms, but Griffin's school is EXPLICITLY warned of and constantly uninvited to events, which is straight up hilariously petty. The last we knew of them, they were allies, trusted friends even! What DELICIOUS drama occurred while no one was looking? So many possibilities.

Next thing that happens is she finds out that there's a student under her nose who enrolled under a false identity — and immediately got into mischief. Which, as it turns out, she finds delightful. Bloom gets to stay with Faragonda's personal, explicit permission, and against the wishes of Griselda. Why, you ask? 'Cause she can. Faragonda's a boss ass bitch who don’t need no reason, that’s why. She seems to think it’s funny lol

My memory of s1 is a little blurry, so I might be missing some events. The next thing I can think of is Bloom's escapade in the library, which Faragonda — or maybe the librarian at Faragonda's behest? — gets under control again. Faragonda finds out that Bloom is looking into Daphne. Faragonda, who has first hand knowledge of the fall of Domino, the battle against the ancient coven, and presumably met Daphne IN PERSON on several occasions. Chooses not to share any of that. And instead collects EVERY SINGLE SOURCE on Daphne she can find, and personally REMOVES them from the library Bloom has access to. Why, you ask? WHY THE FUCK NOT, I SAY!

Shit escalates, plot happens, you know the deal. Conflict occurs that could have been avoided entirely, if Bloom had been aware of her origins or followed Daphne's cryptic warnings earlier. Faragonda helps Bloom find out all the plot necessary details, and happily assists her in her journey to regaining her powers. Does she ever mention her reasons for not doing so like, 8 months ago? Does she? No I’m asking, I literally cannot remember if she let out a wise old “You Had to Find Your Own Way”, or perhaps a “You Weren't Ready Yet”. Either way, I don’t remember her sharing her thought process here in any great detail. Why, you ask, and plug your ears as to not get swept away by the shock wave of my booming voice. To which I take a deep, long breath, break several ribs in the process, and holler into the aether: WHY THE FUCK NOT YOU PEASANT!? ARE YOU AFRAID OF FUN? DO YOU HATE HIJINKS AND SHENANIGANS? Do you not like delicious drama or perhaps a good, shocking reveal?? Do your parents even love you?

And it just keeps GOING like this! The doylist explanation is obviously that the writers were making shit up as they went with every new season they got greenlit on, but the in-universe implications are FASCINATING!

When Faragonda is not busy flirting with old colleagues, she is revealing plot-relevant, potentially life-saving secrets — or keeping them from coming out. She is sending the Winx on dangerous missions — or specifically forbidding them from going on dangerous missions! Faragonda is oscillating wildly between maternal overprotectiveness, stone cold commanding tone, wise mentor or strict obstacle on the Winx's path, and she does so with an air of lovable silliness that contrasts wonderfully against Griselda, and an aura of real, threatening power that scares off enemies for the Winx more than once. She doesn’t really feel inconsistent to me, more like she contains multitudes, and her status as someone with both power and knowledge elevates that even further. She becomes a person that is wrapped in layers and layers of different personality traits she seems to pick and choose from in any given situation. She is both incredibly powerful and deeply unserious — the latter only serving to highlight the former. She isn’t really concerned with impressing the people around her, the way Valtor would be for example, but she does get cold and serious when faced with the parent committee trying to expel Bloom, or any other threat her students might be facing.

Her concern for her students, I believe, is one hundred percent genuine. She risks her life for them. She pretty much gets killed in the attempt to lure Valtor away from the main battle at Alfea, where her students are. And after that, she goes RIGHT BACK to fighting him the NEXT time the Winx are facing him alone. No hesitation, no fear, this time she has back up and she kicks his ass.

Which just makes her decisions to distribute knowledge so sparingly all the more baffling! What is WRONG with her? (affectionate)

This is where we enter my personal fanon territority, because canon never does answer those questions. And my theory is, that Faragonda is a fucking control freak.

Girlie LOVES to know more than others. She THRIVES knowing something you don’t! She's like a chipmunk going hee-hee-hoo-hoo as it smugly shovels nuts into its cheeks. I think her changeable demeanor and very flexible persona is a conscious, deliberate choice on her part, cherry picking what she thinks best serves her interests in any given situation. Her lovable goofball energy makes her the fun parent, compared to Griselda's strict parent, which I think both feeds her ego and gives her an in with students who see her as the lesser evil / someone on their side. I think Faragonda has the cunning to be an excellent manipulator, to the point where every single interaction with her becomes a very one-sided chess game, even when there's nothing on the line. Personally, I think that is both the reason why Griffin chose to trust her, and the reason Griffin and her had a falling out. I think she put all her mind and effort into convincing Griffin to leave, to get out while she could, to HELP the Company of Light and find a better life with them. I think she was using all her people skills and mannerisms to earn Griffin's trust and affection, which probably saved Griffin's life in the end. And I think after the war, when there was no more strategies to come up with, no more battles to plan and no more pieces to analyze and move, the very cunning that first drew Griffin to Faragonda became UNBEARABLY irritating. (Personally, I think they fucked nasty and then had an even NASTIER divorce. This place isn’t big enough for TWO morally ambiguous bitches. Faragonda got custody of Saladin it seems lol)

And to get back to that s1 decision: My theory is that she didn’t remove the books about Daphne because she didn’t want Bloom to find out the truth — I think she didn’t want Bloom to find out the truth before SHE HERSELF did.

But why, you ask, and this time I am going to actually answer without causing bodily harm to you or myself. Why does she do all this? What is her goal?

Nothing. Fuck all. Faragonda isn’t manipulating people because she wants power, or because she's secretly evil or anything. Faragonda is probably mainly acting out of habit, because she doesn’t see anything wrong with being the smartest person in the room. If you asked her point blank why she always needs to be the person that knows the most, she would probably say that that’s just her job. She's the headmistress. She's a member of the company of light. She's on out of just three surviving members. It's her job to protect her students, and to do that, she needs to know what the threat is, how to stop it, and who needs to know what in order to accomplish that. If one of her students knows more than her, who knows what decision they would make that she has no way to foresee. They're like, 17. Teenagers are dumbasses. She's the most qualified to call the shots, so call the shots she will.

You could dig into trauma for that if you wanted. Survivors bias. She's the one that lived. Oritel and Marion died; even Daphne, a literal god-like nymph, has died, but she survived, and she got Griffin out as well. If she's the one in control, things work out. If she's the one ensuring that people think what she wants them to think, feel what she wants them to feel, these people live. (All three of Oritel, Marion and Daphne were very independent from her, mind you. They were royals of a sovereign planet, the most powerful realm in existence at the time: Faragonda had no power to give them orders, and was probably more of an advisor in that dynamic. But Griffin, the traitor witch? Saladin, the young mage? They were likely much more within her power to lead and control, and both of them LIVED.)

Add to that that she's navigating a tough political landscape. She has to answer to the parents' board, which consists of like. Every single monarch in the dimension. Leave aside that this lady is probably stressed the fuck out, she has to be very aware of the way her actions, and any events in her school, reflect on her on the global level.

So, to come back to your question. I think Faragonda is a DEEPLY untrustworthy person who likes to cause problems on purpose :3 TM but also genuinely cares. TL;DR:

Thank you so much for your ask, I LOVE getting to talk about these characters. If I were to do any sort of “redemption” for Faragonda, it would have to just be 6 months of straight up therapy and pedagogy training lmao. And maybe a nice, chill vacation.

That being said, I will not stop making fun of her absolutely LUDICROUS, obstructionist nonsense and shadiness lol, I think that’s the best thing about her. In my head, I have like an entire spin off sequel series running on that’s JUST about the company of light and Valtor during their heyday. There is SO much potential in the dynamic between Faragonda, Griffin and Valtor alone, and that’s BEFORE you add in the aloof, too powerful, had-to-grow-up-fast mystery that is Daphne. Rainbow pls text me back I just wanna talk PLEAS—

[miasbby]

indefinitely ours.

(teacher!reader x teacher!Ellie x Abby)

summary : You're not willing to date nor looking for anyone, but Ellie Williams, the art teacher working in the school that hired you a year ago, is making you seriously doubt that decision. With her flirting, praises and constant touches, you're all but ready to give up and ask her out. That is, until you meet her girlfriend, Abby, who to your greatest shock seems very… curious about you.

word count : 7.2k (sorry)

note : this is my first fic in the tlou fandom ever, so it'll hopefully be good and i hope the characterization is okay! i wrote this to practice writing shorter fics and failed.... it probably won't get a part 2 but who knows!

warnings : smut with a bit of plot, female anatomy reader, occasionally mean!ellie and mean!abby but they love you<3, light objectification, degradation and exhibitionism, mention of anal, alcohol use and light intoxication, sub!reader, consent is respected but there’s a few bold moments, bit of a housewife kink, crying from overstimulation, threesome.

●○●○●○●○●○●

An ordinary life is not what most aim for, but you have to be honest in that regard: there’s nothing you’ve craved to achieve more than the simple peace of life, a peace often found in modesty yet sought in extravagance. 

The primary school you joined last year has fulfilled that goal in more ways than one, allowing you the safety of a job you spent years dreaming of, a kind group of colleagues that have befriended you ever since you first arrived, and a class made up of the most adorable group of pupils, all eager to learn and earn the good graces of their favorite teacher judging by how the blue of your classroom’s walls are now entirely hidden by drawings. It’s on the outskirts of the city, in a cute area where prices had not soared just yet when you first bought a house, and the neighborhood couldn’t be more welcoming. 

Your time is well-spent: between preparing lessons, finding original ideas to keep a hyperactive group of six years old entertained, taking care of the renovations your new house still requires, and caring for a vegetable garden you did not expect to grow so well, it’s safe to say that you don’t have much time left for anything else, and that includes a relationship. You haven’t been looking, really, happy to settle down on your own until life picks up a slower rhythm and to make friends rather than losing yourself in back and forths. Your previous relationships were never particularly fulfilling and often ended up being on and off until you got tired of the uncertainty. You’re done with all of that. 

The only person that could make you doubt the choice of celibacy, however, currently has her back turned to you, rummaging through a tiny box of chalk sticks on her desk. The kids are out at lunch and you know she tends to eat on her own in here instead of the break room where all of the teachers often meet up. Of course, you only chose to come get her because she’s been a good friend, not because of any ulterior motive…

“Planning to stay hidden in there for long or are you going to come out and eat?”

Ellie doesn’t even appear startled and you wonder if she could somehow sense your presence by the door. She throws the tiny, useless pieces in the trash, reminding you to filter through your own box of it, and turns to face you with that eternally smug smile, leaning back against the side of her desk. It’s a mess, but that’s not surprising coming from Ellie. Whether it’s because she’s the art teacher in charge in the school or because that’s simply in her nature, you’re not sure, but you know to no longer be shocked by the sight of paper and paintbrushes thrown randomly on her desk. 

“Planning on distracting me for much longer or is that gonna stop at some point?” she answers back. “You can’t come in here looking like this and seriously expect me to think of lunch.” 

And that is exactly why Ellie is making you reconsider your opinion on dating. 

If it weren’t for the constant light flirting you still don’t know how to read into, you think that handsomely sweet face would have convinced you anyway. It’s not that Ellie is your style, it’s that you’re convinced no one on this planet could be more attractive to you. Today’s look isn’t helping either: that opened cargo shirt barely hides the simple white tank top she must own in four identical copies and doesn’t do much to conceal the tight, sculpted lines of her arms, blues veins running down to paint-stained fingers. 

Oh, if only you could stop thinking about how they’d feel dipping into the heat spreading from your clit down to your entrance, filling an emptiness that rings between your legs as much as it does in your heart. Unfortunately, such luck cannot be granted to you. Not yet, and perhaps not ever. 

“You’re not flattering yourself out of coming with me.” You slide your hand down to the doorknob and motion for Ellie to follow you out, but she shakes her head, grabbing her phone in the back pocket of her jeans.

“Sorry,” she says, smile dropping with hesitation before she continues. “The girlfriend forgot her lunch at home and I’ve gotta go get it for her. But I’ll see you tonight, we’re still grabbing drinks with the team, right?”

You blink, cheeks straining from the efforts required to keep your smile up even as it turns dishonest, and try to make sense of the word she just uttered, any heat in your belly extinguished by an ice storm. Did she say girl friend or… girlfriend? Why would anyway refer to their friend that way, though… Stop lying to yourself, you got the meaning right on the first try. 

Your heart does not break per se, but it skips a few beats you’re incapable of missing. In the few months you got to know each other, Ellie never mentioned a girlfriend nor did she introduce anyone to you. 

Well, there goes your only temptation for a relationship. Celibacy it will have to be.

“Of course. See you tonight.”

If Ellie notices the light dim in your eyes, she doesn’t show. 

—

That evening, you hesitate until the very last second about going home and finding a new show worth obsessing about or going out as promised. Ellie doesn’t give you much of a choice, however, when she shows up in your classroom right after the last student filters out with his father and pulls you out of your seat, refusing to take no for an answer. 

(If it’s the request that convinces you or the strong hold she has on your wrist, you’re not sure. But you still let her tug you to your car anyway.)

The ‘team’ as referred to earlier consists of five other teachers whose classrooms are all sharing a hallway with yours and with whom you spend your Friday evenings in a local beer bar next door, a place Ellie first dragged you all into when you were still relative strangers, to celebrate your arrival. Your usual table is free when you arrive, Mel and Ellie right behind you, and you suppose a beer might be the best way to forget about your stupid little crush and the shame eating at your insides for having taken friendly banter as flirting for months now. 

Overall, the night is fun, and after a few well-placed jokes at your expense, you finally manage to leave what happened earlier behind and enjoy yourself. Unfortunately, whatever superior being out there who’s decided you should, after a year of knowing each other, finally get to know all about Ellie’s girlfriend, is not on your side today. 

“Oh, hey Abs!” Mel waves behind where you and Ellie sit, still somehow pressed up against each other, and your friend immediately brightens up, turning around to face someone. “Have you finally decided to join us? I thought you’d never leave that work of yours for even one night a week.”

“Maybe next week if she forces me to come.” The woman comes into view and immediately rests a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, smirking down at her before her eyes travel to you and stay locked onto your own for one second too long for it not to feel somehow… knowing. “But nah, I only got here to take Ellie home. I bet she drank too much to drive and that none of you would have been able to convince her not to take her car.”

Mel laughs, joined by the others, and even you have to agree on that. Ellie is particularly stubborn on the average day, but she gets even worse after three beers and a few shots. 

“I’m fine, come on… I could drive on my own, a few beers have never killed me.” 

The problem is, she says that while stretching an arm over the booth seat, enveloping your shoulders and tugging you closer to her side, and the only explanation for doing that in front of that literal goddess-looking muscle-paradise girlfriend of hers has to be the alcohol. ‘Abs’ raises a curious eyebrow but her smile never dies, and you look away to focus on the bottle clutched in your hand, guts turning into a mix of nervousness and shame that does not blend well with alcohol.

Abby stays around for a bit. The whole time, her eyes remain on you, taking in the features of your face, sweeping over your figure and translating what you would interpret as unabashed attraction if it came from anyone else. It’s like she’s trying to memorize your face, your body, your soul. Like she means to lay an invisible mark on your heart you’ll feel with every beat, right next to the one Ellie has unconsciously placed there long ago. 

The arm only leaves its place on your shoulders when who you now know as Abby urges Ellie to go, and you leave soon after, sitting in the dark of your car for five minutes before your head clears enough for you to drive. 

That was… definitely something. But you could unfortunately not explain what in any way.

-

The next time you see Abby does not offer any sort of clearer explanation as to why the mood always seems odd around you and Ellie, and particularly so when she’s there with you. 

She comes around for drinks for the first time in months the following week and turns your offer to change seats down, seemingly fine with sitting next to you, her girlfriend on your other side. Her presence warms the hearts of everyone around the table but yours, stressing you out beyond sanity. You know you didn’t do anything wrong and that it’s probably a good thing that you learned of Ellie’s seemingly very joyful and fulfilling relationship now rather than after an attempted kiss or a date proposal. Yet, you cannot help but feel unsure around her - like she knows, like she can read through your heart and flick through its pages until its secrets have been bared. 

Abby never talks to you nor mentions you in her conversations, yet, she’s always got an eye trailed on your figure, always silently insists on you being aware that you’re taking all of her attention. 

And Ellie, well… Ellie has not changed, and that’s probably where the actual problem lies. 

She still smiles at you with that signature smugness you know is only reserved for her girlfriend. She still flirts and teases and touches, still makes comments about how prettily you blush and how well that shirt fits you and you never know what to answer to any of those things. This time again, one of her arms is spread over your shoulders, her fingers fiddling with the fabric of Abby’s shirt on your other side, and if anyone were to look, they’d probably think you’re dating either of them - if not both. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by her voice, and you almost let go of the glass of water you requested earlier when its now familiar murmur tickles your ear. “I like this skirt. Is it me you got it for? I’m sure Abby would like it just as much.”

Poorly disguised shock shines in your eyes but Ellie appears unphased, not even bothering with a glance at where her girlfriend listens to Mel vent about a fight between two of her students. You clear your throat, avoiding the heaviness of her stare, and shake your head timidly, scared to voice out your thoughts or to be heard. The fabric isn’t anything short per se, but it rode up your thighs through the night, and you’re suddenly far too aware of where Abby’s glances might have led to earlier. Ellie’s only response is a chuckle. 

You think that’s the end of it but that’s without counting on the end of the night - when everyone leaves but Ellie insists you stay around some more, and Abby doesn’t show any interest in moving away, her thighs spread and pressing you further into Ellie. The arm behind your back moves and this time, you can’t control the way your body jumps when she places a hand just above your knee, stroking the tight fabric of your skirt. 

“So,” you begin, trying to break the silence. “How long have you two been together?”

Abby takes a swing of her beer and your eyes follow the bulging muscle of her biceps until Ellie reminds you of her presence by patting your thigh affectionately. “Three years now. We met when Abby came around the school to renovate the gym with her crew and ended up moving in two months later. She’s a carpenter.”

“Oh,” you exclaim, interested but also still very much nervous. “That’s definitely helpful to have around at home. How long have you been doing this for?”

It’s the first time you address her directly and the kindness you’re met with feels almost surprising. You don’t think you would be kind to someone your girlfriend is two inches away from touching inappropriately right under your nose, but you suppose you should be glad that’s the case here. 

“Ever since I was a kid, really. Being a carpenter didn’t exactly fit my father’s plans but he always encouraged me anyway when I saw how much fun I had fixing things and building my own. What about you? What got you to into teaching?”

Tension leaves your back altogether when her answer reflects the smile perched on her lips and the mirth shining in her eyes. “Children, really. It started with babysitting and then all I could think about was teaching.”

Abby’s eyes dip down to your lips. “That’s cute.”

“I told you she’s adorable,” Ellie interrupts. “And beautiful too, isn’t she? I knew she’d be your type.”

Your lips part to speak but before a protest can slip past them, Abby nods, smile turning almost predatory. “I’d say she’s your own just as much. You’ve always liked your girls a bit innocent.”

“I’m not-”

“Can you blame me, though?”

Abby pretends to think for a second and gets that knowing look again, reading through the blush spreading up to your ears and the fast ups and downs of your chest in ways you fail to understand yourself. Everything’s going too fast, like a ball bouncing from one side of the court to the other, and it suddenly feels like they’re discussing you, praising you, without even including you in the conversation anymore. 

“No. I think I understand.”

Ellie chuckles, inching her hand higher up on your lap, and she allows the silence to persist for a moment longer before standing up to order another round for you. Abby never looks away. You’re still trying to comprehend what just happened, still failing to make sense of why your friend’s partner is staring at you like she’s considering the interest of throwing you over the table dirty with food crumbs and alcohol spills and flexing those fingers inside of your cunt instead of playing with the tip of her bottle. 

“Oh, you’ve got some crumbs here,” Abby says, eyes flicking down to wear your shirt wraps tightly around your chest. You follow her line of sight, wondering how that could be when you didn’t eat any of the fries they ordered earlier, and find nothing. “Here, I’ll get them off for you.”

Before a word of gratefulness can echo between the two of you, your lips part in shock, a hand positioning itself right above your breast and arching a curious eyebrow, staring into the depths of your eyes. There’s no hesitation in the action, but rather a sort of anticipation you find yourself trapped into. “Is this alright?” she asks, the “Yes,” out by your lips before you can even make sense of what she means.

Deep down, you know what it means. Deep down, you’ve got a feeling Abby might have been familiar with you far before your recent introduction. 

Once your agreement has been voiced, Abby startles you, immediately aiming for your right breast and gripping it with the whole length of her palm. A thumb rubs at soft skin only hidden by the light fabric of your shirt, almost transparent, not thick enough to act as a proper barrier, and you can feel it all - the heat of her hand, its roughness, how it’s thick enough, big enough to effortlessly envelop all of one breast.

It’s the first time her eyes have moved away from the trance they had yours stuck into, her stare dipping down to where she pretends to rub at your shirt, only reminding you of the absence of a bra to truly cover you. Your nipple hardens under her palm and that seems to be the goal because her hand changes sides, repeating the process, teasing and rubbing, the cotton fabric too rough for the sensitive little bud. Your thighs rub against each other, failing to get any sort of release from the pressure burning your cunt, hips almost bucking in a silent plea to be filled up by those very same fingers.  

Abby smiles, still kind, still honest, and shifts her hand only to roll it between two fingers, pulling a wet moan from your lips you fear the people behind you might catch. “See, that’s better now, isn’t it?” And just like that, she pulls away, hand settling back around her beer, leaving you to deal with the wetness soaking your underwear and the blush heating your face, shining like a broken christmas light. 

“Y-yeah.” It’s odd that you even manage to speak when flames circle hardened nipples, driving you into unknown depths of desire, but you’re proud to say you at least manage a coherent sound. “Thank you.”

When Ellie comes back, conversation follows a course far more normal, and if it weren’t for the hooded eyes, the pulsing heat, and the hand claiming its spot back on your lap, you’d think you hallucinated all of the tension. 

The state of your underwear when you strip down before a shower later that night, however, is all the proof you need. Yet, you fail to truly comprehend what happened. The innocence that almost shone in Abby’s eyes as she touched you is impossible to make sense of, and the next morning, you’re no longer sure of what her intentions truly were.

Did she mean to tease you like Ellie has been doing - as a friend, a friend who has a pretty interesting definition of the word platonic but a friend nonetheless? Or was this more? 

You’re not sure, but if anything, you won’t be the one to bring up the question just yet. 

-

Ellie and Abby are coming over to your house to help with the endless renovations you’ve been making. And no, it wasn’t your idea. 

You’ve been avoiding thinking about Abby and how she’s just as illegally fine as who you already considered to be the hottest woman alive, and although ignoring Ellie is impossible, you at least made some progress this past week with accepting the flirting as some meaningless fun. When you complained about the difficulties you’ve been having with painting the ceilings of two rooms and fixing the guest room bed, however, Ellie suggested that they come over to help and, well, how could you turn down such a nice proposal?

That’s how you end up watching them by the kitchen’s window as they relax around a glass of iced tea in the garden, cheeks stained with light grey paint and arms bared, water running in the sink and acting as the background noise to your current fantasies.

The mind owns a power the heart only dreams of having, capable of eternal wanderings uncontrolled by even the strongest wills. 

Yours has not resisted purposeless dreams. Dreams that once involved Ellie, a sweet craving for what could perhaps come to exist in the realm of reality - a craving for late-night guitar sessions and paintings in bold colors, for rough palms to sculpt your heart into submission and teasing smirks wiped away by kisses. Dreams that now involve someone else, a person you have yet to truly understand but who seems to perfectly fit a puzzle from which you did not believe a piece lost. Her body rings with a rigidity that’s a lot more pronounced, yet her heart appears softer, willing to lead you further into the depths of a euphoric swamp. 

A blurry motion startles you out of your thoughts and you blink to find the water is still running, the time still passing. Ellie is waving at you and Abby is staring with a raised eyebrow of curiosity. 

You smile, waving back, and turn off the tap. 

Fantasies are just that, unfortunately. You’ll have to make do with your imagination because it seems Abby isn’t intending on repeating what you’re getting more and more convinced was meaningless teasing anytime soon.

-

They spend the next weekend at your house too, fixing broken cupboards and a tall wardrobe you couldn’t figure out how to close fully, helping with the garden and any heavy objects you need to move around. 

It comes to a point where you decide that if you can’t have either of them, then dreaming is fine. The only problem is that you end up doing that a lot, and getting caught is inevitable. 

“Could I borrow your shower?” asks Ellie once the day reaches its end, the sun freefalling on the horizon. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” Abby has fetched a chair for the same reason but you know how much Ellie like to sit beside you. Her girlfriend’s presence has not stopped the oncoming stream of cuddles she requires from you, and you’re more than happy to be held, touch-starved since the end of your last relationship. 

“Sure. I’ll get the food ready.”

You stand from the couch to head for the kitchen but before you can disappear, Ellie grips the hem of her shirt and pulls it up, revealing a glistening, tight stomach in what feels like a slow motion to you but is surely a very normal pace for anyone else. The fabric slides off her shoulders and gets thrown straight to Abby’s face but your brain is in no way capable to register anything but newly revealed skin and soft curves hidden under a white sports bra. 

“Feel free to join me,” she adds, teasingly, and you know it has to be directed at Abby who, it seems, is just as affected as you are judging by the darkened gaze she keeps directed at Ellie, but if that’s the case, then you cannot explain why Ellie is staring right at you as she says it before turning around and leaving for the bathroom. 

It’s that gaze you see once they’re gone that night, writhing on top of your bed, covers thrown to the floor and pillow wet with your spit. It’s that gaze encouraging a second, then a third finger to fit into your cunt, the pressure too much yet so far from what you wish for, from how well you know they would both fill you, breaching past undesired tightness and taking all that you’re willing to give. 

And it’s their voices, blended in as one, whispering praise into your ear and urging you to let go when you finally fall over the edge, tears pooling in your eyes and teeth aching from the marks they’ve left in that poor pillow. 

-

“You know,” you begin, words not slurring but speech clearly affected by physical exhaustion and beer. “I thought you were flirting with me before you suddenly mentioned your girlfriend.”

A chuckle greets you, but you can’t tell if it comes from Abby or Ellie, both of them cuddling on the couch in front of you as you lay on the fluffy chair you bought for decoration purposes but that’s actually pretty amazing to use when sleepy. The night has fallen and you spent a lot of time in the garden today while Abby watched over you and Ellie finished with painting touch-ups, explaining the tiredness numbing your arms and the effects of the alcohol. 

Your eyes remain closed and you shift around when air tickles the bottom of your stomach, your shirt having ridden up to reveal skin. 

“What if I was?” and this time, you know it’s Ellie - sure, because it sounds like her, but also because she’s the one who likes teasing you the most. 

You huff, internally rolling your eyes. “With a girlfriend like Abby, trust me, you were not. You’d be dumb to flirt with anyone else or want to kiss anyone else,” you say, voice barely above a murmur. That second beer should not have been handed in your hand, but Ellie has always been a bad influence and Abby drinks them with little effort. Slowly, you half-whisper, “Bet her lips are so soft.”

Abby laughs this time, reminding you of her presence, but you’re too far gone to care. “I think yours would put up a great fight in a contest,” she says, the smile evident in her voice. “Maybe even win, who knows. I know I wouldn’t mind trying you out.”

“Hey!” Ellie interrupts, “I get to try her out first. I found her. You would want me first, wouldn’t you?”

It takes a while for you to register the question and understand you’re being spoken to. “I think I want the both of you… together.”

Someone’s breath hitches, but you fall asleep before you can find out whose. 

All you remember the next morning is strong arms holding onto the back of your thighs and your back carrying you up the stairs, a pair of sweet lips leaving a kiss on your forehead, and the throbbing traces of a hand on the naked skin of your stomach. 

That must have been a fairly nice dream. 

-

You’re in the kitchen when things truly take a turn you did not expect to happen in reality, breaching the realm of fantasies and fully stepping into your life - your peaceful and joyful life that, as you will soon come to realize, was actually missing two precious souls to reach the desperate form of completion you sought. 

Abby is drying the dishes you’re washing and Ellie is… well, she’s simply being herself, avoiding any sort of chore and whistling in the living room as she chooses what movie you’ll all be watching tonight. The mood has been particularly tense today and this time, you’re glad to say it’s not your fault. Abby has been especially attentive to you, asking about your day, your past, and the shape you imagine your future to take, casually exchanging indecipherable looks with Ellie. They’re more than familiar with your house now yet they’ve never acted more like strangers scared of trespassing. 

If you didn’t know better, you would think of them as almost… afraid. 

Fortunately, the tension left as soon as night fell and you all settled back into soothing habits. At least, that’s what you think, until a shadow looms over your back, blocking the naked lightbulb from shining light on the last plate in your hand, and you realize that Ellie isn’t as busy as she made it out to be. 

“Dinner was great, thanks for preparing all of it again,” she says, supporting her weight with one hand on the countertop and the left one innocently resting on your hip. Her touch is welcomed and familiar, her palm cupping the curve to perfection. “Anyone ever told you you’d make the perfect little wife?”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes although you know she won’t be able to see it. “If that’s truly the case, there’d be a lot more people pilling up at my door, or at least one person. I think you two are just terrible cooks in desperate need of a chef.”

Abby shakes her head, nudging you with her elbow as she wipes water from a pack of forks. “You’re not wrong in thinking we’d wife you up in an instant if you wanted, but not because you’d be a great chef.”

“Yeah,” Ellie agrees, flexing her fingers where they rest on your hip. “I can think of a few other reasons. You’d be an amazing mother, for one, and you’re far more patient than either of us deserve.”

“And you’re ready to put up with her stubbornness, so a perfect match, really.” Abby’s comment makes you laugh but Ellie speaks again before you can tease her about her own issues with never doing as told. 

“All of that, and I even bet you’d be such a pretty little thing to fuck.” Your hands freeze on where you’ve just put the plate away, tension seizing unready muscles. You blink, staring by the window, the night turning it into a mirror and reflecting the shock wild in your eyes. For a second, you’re convinced to have misheard. But the silence that follows tells the opposite story. Ellie’s close, suddenly, closer than she was before, and Abby’s hands have stilled as well, her body tight with stress. “I feel like we didn’t thank you properly for all the meals you’ve prepared for us. What do you think, Abby?”

At the edge of your vision, you can sense that Abby has given in and glances at you from the corner of an eye, the sound of her breathing audible, loud. “I think she very much likes politeness, and… it would be rude not to give back after taking so much, wouldn’t it?”

“Right. And what about you, um?” The hand on your hip slowly slides closer to your front before drawing back, again and again, in what feels like a maddening caress. “Do you think we should thank you? Together, I mean.”

Later, you’ll have more than enough time to consider just how stupid it was for you, at that precise moment, to doubt the true meaning behind Ellie’s suggestion. There’s a part of you that yearns for this to be real, for it to feel real, but that part cannot be allowed to exist because it is directly connected to a risk of disappointment you’re not sure you would survive. So, when you reply a breathy little, “Yes,” you don’t actually expect what follows. 

“Good girl.” 

A whine spills past your lips but the reason behind its existence is blurry - is it the praise, vibrating through your lungs and soaking your cunt, or is it the hand that fully slides against your front, rubbing at the seam of your jeans frustratingly right above your heat, the other suddenly palming the curve of your ass and roughly kneading skin? You think you’ll never know for the first moan, but the next one is inevitably due to the second pair of hands finding a place to have some fun of their own. 

“I can feel how soaked you are already,” Ellie says, tone teasing, taunting and forcing past your defenses. “Are you sure you didn’t expect this to happen? How often did you fuck yourself wishing it was us, hmm, pretty girl?”

You think that question should not require an answer, mostly because you’re incapable of giving any, incapable of getting that brain of yours to think and function properly. But Abby doesn’t seem happy with your silence, and she finally decides to remind you of her presence. 

“We asked you a question, sweetheart.” Her voice startles you and your head turns to face her, your heart soothed by the admiration and the awe and the desire reflected in usually tight features. She’s smiling, not that usually kind expression but one that’s almost amused, and you realize you’re in serious, serious trouble with these two. Two fingers seize you by the chin, pushing it upward, and a thumb rubs at your bottom lip. “How empty did you feel thinking about how good we could take care of you?”

“I- I didn’t-” Ellie’s nails sink into the flesh of your ass, reprimanding, and Abby tuts, shaking her head disappointedly. 

“It’s alright,” she adds. “You can be honest with us. There’s not a single time we fucked since you started working here that we didn’t think about you, about how complete you’d make us.” And you’re going to process that at some point, but now will not be that time. Not when she continues to speak, stealing any hope for coherency from under your feet. “We’ll take care of you now, though. Come on, Ellie, don’t be a tease.”

Ellie hesitates, hands still, fingers flexing. They stare at each other with blazing heat in what you think could be a fight for dominance you’re not sure to make sense of when they could just take out all of that on you. 

“You better beg for it.”

When the gearwheels begin to roll again, you lose all sense of reality. 

It’s like they both observed you for months, like they figured out what button to push and with how much strength, what you love and what you’re too ashamed to admit you need. Chills of shame erupt on your arms at the idea, worsened by how smoothly Ellie works your body. 

“Let’s get these off you,” she mutters, lips hovering right next to your nape, inches away from a kiss. “You won’t be needing them around us anymore.”

There’s possessiveness in her words and there’s possessiveness in how fast she slips the button of your jeans off and tugs on the material, slowly, as if to admire what is finally hers to worship and use as she deems fit. Abby growls, watching with a well-trained eye as the tight fabric slides over your ass, and her hand moves down to press against your throat, keeping your back shamefully arched, ass raised for their eyes to feast onto. Your pants end halfway down your thighs, and you have to say there’s nothing surprising about Ellie’s eagerness to get to the source of her desires, hot between your thighs. 

“Abby told me I’d love your ass. Guess she wasn’t wrong.” You expect your underwear to follow next but she decides not to bother with that. “Ever gotten fucked there before, or are you keeping that tight little hole for when we decide to use it?”

“N-never, I- I don’t-”

Abby sighs, shaking her head warningly. “Ellie… focus.”

“Right, sorry. We’ll keep that in mind for another time, you’re ours now anyway, aren’t you? Our pretty little toy.”

You’re all but ready to cry when fingers slides into the front of your underwear, familiar roughness perceptible in the actions, immediately drenched in your desires. Your cunt aches, your core throbs, and your nipples harden. A cocktail of needs that can only be sated by much more than what you’re given. Efficient fingers part your folds before expertly reaching that little bud of sensitiveness at the top of your mound, circling it, pinching it, driving you crazy with it. 

But that’s not what truly seals the first release of the night. That only comes when Abby decides to fully join in on the fun. 

Fingers unbutton your shirt until it parts to reveal the pale pink bra that matches the current dark pink of your panties, only abandoning your neck until the offending lace has been pushed right under your breasts and returning to its hold. You think Abby’s going to kiss you, for a moment, but she’s only reveling in the hot puffs of air slipping past your lips and trying to swallow down the guttural moan that vibrates in your throat when Ellie decides she wants to take the next step.

The hand that had for now been palming your ass travels closer to your center and tugs flimsy fabric out of the way carelessly. You’re not given a warning when the first finger breaches past your entrance, only the sound of Ellie spitting on her fingers for unnecessary lube and that feeling of needing frustratingly more. A whine lodges itself at the back of your throat, and they both laugh, only turning your frustration worse. 

You want to move and fight back, tell them you’re more than capable of taking charge yourself. But there’s something about being treated as a toy meant to receive pleasure, about being admired and taken and praised, about that second finger joining the first and filling the tightness of your cunt, that forces you into a soothing form of submission, allowing every touch and taking them willingly. 

Abby palms at one breast, rolling a nipple under the strong surface in a touch that translates all of her strength. “Is that blush for us, pretty thing? You’re gonna come all over her hand like a good slut already, aren’t you?”

And, it’s cruel, but of course you do. 

Ellie flexes her fingers, increasing the speed of her arm. You can’t see it, but you know veins must shy prettily all over her forearm and biceps must be bulging from the tightness required to fuck you like she does now - like she wants to pull orgasm after orgasm from your core until you no longer understand what it means not to feel the maddening pulse of a release coursing through your body like liquid fire. Abby turns meaner, rougher, pinching a nipple between two fingers and pressing the hand further into your neck, forcing you to follow its direction and standing further on your toes. 

Four hands - teasing, fucking, taking. 

Two souls tauntingly attracting your own into their orbit, sealing an invisible lock around your heart, your body, your being itself. 

And sweet, sweet praise, whispered right under your ear, sending you into a release you’re helpless to control. 

“Ellie, Abby… I-” The moan that travels from your chest and spills past your lips is rough, guttural, connected to the inhuman waves of pleasures rocking through your body. Your cunt clenches around the fingers still thrusting in and out of your center, clinging onto the digits until they’re forced to stop, Ellie breathing heavily in your ear. Abby kisses down the curve of your throat, teeth nibbling at sensitive skin and laying a mark you refuse to ever cover. 

Your moan ends, broken off in tense breathing, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, and that’s when you catch the groan vibrating Ellie’s throat. It, too, falls into silence. 

Abby swears against your skin, a deep, rough “Fuck,” that sends shivers down your spine. 

“Told you she’d be the cutest little thing to corrupt,” Ellie teases, slowly sliding out of you, fighting against the tightness of your walls and your eagerness to be fucked into a stupid mess. “She’s all proper and shit but I could tell she’d love it.”

“I never doubted you.” Abby says, kissing the lone tear sliding down your cheek with all of the tenderness she can conjure. “Come on, let’s get her on a proper surface.”

Heat blooms on your cheeks when Ellie steps away to allow Abby to take you into her arms, the ground suddenly disappearing from under your feet. The way they talk about you like you’re not even there, like you’re too fucked out to understand a single word, would be shameful under any other circumstance. You know it’s only a game when Ellie takes advantage of finally facing you by planting a soft kiss on your forehead, pushing away a lazy strand of hair. 

They begin to walk toward your bedroom like they perfectly know the way, and your vision turns dark right as they push the door open.

-

“Can you hold her open for me or have you been slacking at the gym?”

Your eyes remain closed, but your brain kickstarts itself into working properly again. You can feel the familiar linen of your sheets under your ass and soft naked breasts pressed against your back, another weight shifting in front of you on the bed. 

The body behind yours shakes in rhythm with a chuckle and you recognize Ellie. “Can you still eat pussy or should we trade so I can show you? Sorry we didn’t plan for your strap, I thought she might have a cock lying around but… we’ll have to take care of that next time.”

“Fuck you,” says Abby half-heartedly, the sound followed by more shifting. 

You’re fully aware again when Ellie grabs the back of your thighs and tugs them, spreading your legs and allowing air to tickle the slick still running from your center, drenched folds bared for anyone to use as they please. 

“Come on, get to it. I know you’re hungry.”

Another pair of hands holds you by the ass and your eyes flutter open, hoping to catch sight of what you once dreamed about. Abby barely spares you a glance before she all but leaps to feast on your cunt, igniting a fire not yet extinguished. 

“Abby… Abby…” You repeat her name like a plea, like a prayer. Your hips buck and trash around, your heart pauses and starts again, your releases come and come again right after each other until you exist no more, a broken toy a kid cannot help but continue to play with. 

Lips circle your clit and suck, pull and deliver rough kisses. An expert tongue gathers slicks at your entrance and spreads it all over already drenched folds, eating rather than licking, a starved woman relishing in her first and last mean. It’s all too much, too soon, too sensitive, and you’re in no way capable of pulling away, four hands keeping you all tight and secure in their hold, a prisoner to your own pleasure. 

“Keep them coming, pretty thing. I want your cunt red by the time we’re done with you tonight,” Ellie murmurs in your ear before resuming the path of tenderness her mouth trailing on down your neck. 

You only find the strength left in yourself to follow that order. 

-

An unwelcomed warmth burns your closed eyelids and you shift, attempting to escape its path. To your great despair, it doesn’t budge. A tired groan echoes in the room and you blink sleep back into your body, limbs stretching and encountering a soreness that did not exist before.

Oh. Right. Last night happened and… it was not a dream this time. 

Fear seizes your heart for a moment and you quickly look around, scared to find the bed empty save for your body. A happy sigh of relief marks the moment you see them - Abby clinging to Ellie’s back, still sound asleep and temptingly naked, and Ellie holding onto your waist, staring up at you with a smug look and a kind smile.

“Morning,” she says, voice broken from sleep. “You didn’t think we’d abandon you, did ya?”

“N-no I… I’m just happy to see you.” You cannot control the dumb smile that widens on your lips, and Ellie’s smirk only widens, her hold pulling you back into the eternal depths of the sheets. 

“We’re not going anywhere, try to get some more sleep.”

It’s a simple sentence, meaningless on the surface. 

Yet, you know it’s more than that. 

It’s a promise. 

A promise for more, meant to suppress the doubts blossoming in your chest. A promise that they’ll be there when you awake again, and again, and again.  

[zylophie]

Furina meeting someone in fontaine who somehow doesn't know them... Sounds refreshing and fluffy!

꒰⌗´͈ ᵕ ॣ`͈⌗꒱৩ — furina

✿ — ♬ ⌨️ᶻᶻᶻ : x/modmafuyu is typing... ✉!

✿ — ↻ SYNOPSIS : Furina meeting a fontainian(reader) who doesn't know her.

✿ — ♯ GENRE : Fluff(mostly), bittersweet

✿ — ⊜ CW : Nil

✿ — ↠ NOTE : Hi hi Anon~ Thank you for requesting~ I had a lot of fun making this fic and I hope you'll enjoy reading it ! I know you wanted fluff but I accidentally made a bittersweet ending. Hope that's alright!<3

Timeline would be Furina still acting out her role. So that this fic would not go too far out of character.

Just a warning, 4.2 spoilers.

[h/c] - hair color

[e/c] - eye color

✿ — ♪ REMINDER : reblogs & likes are appreciated, in doing so will motivate us to continue delivering stories to you, thank you for all of your supports ~ !

Extra: if you would like to request, click here and read the writing rules for each writer !

✿ — ♭ ⁿᵒʷ ᶜᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ... : ...No one

✿ — ► ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Furina

CLICK CLACK CLICK!

A petite girl was seen running out of the Palais Mermonia in the Court of Fontaine. As she took off running as far as her legs could take her.

-----------------FLASHBACK-----------------

"...Miss Furina, I do hope you know the prophecy will come sooner or later. Even if Fontaine hasn't experience any deleterious flooding.. yet.. We must act fast to ensure all our citizen are safe and won't live in fear. Who knows how long till they believe in those 'rumors'"

"I do know that! ...I promise I'm doing something useful to help everyone."

"I can clearly sense that you are hiding something from me. Please, just tell me what is it that you are covering up."

"I-I'm telling you! I'm not hiding anything. I am your archon, could you PLEASE stop doubting me?!"

...

-------------------------------------------------

'How much longer..'

pant pant pant

'So lonely..'

pant pant pant

'Please let this show end..'

THUD

The petite girl collided with the ground due to exhaustion. She began looking around, upon seeing no one, she felt a little relieved to see that no one had spotted her being in a mess from earlier.

..Well probably except for the Chief of Justice.

'..Way to go Furina, if he wasn't already suspicious of me, he definitely is now..'

As the girl slowly picked herself up from the ground and continued to wandered mindlessly, wanting to get her mind off things for a bit.

Furina strolled leisurely while admiring the scenery upon her. She usually doesn't have time to be curious and as carefree while playing the role of the archon.

'Where am I anyways? I've.. Never been out of the city before'

As Furina came across a sunny and bright view. Where the sun is beaming while waves crash into one another, accompanied by golden rocks.

Although it is an unfamiliar surrounding, Furina only felt comfort feeling the breeze of the atmosphere as she slowly trotted over to the sea.

'What is this place? I've never been here but it feels really easy to relax..'

As Furina slowly took in the sunlight and windy zephyr and sighed. If only she could adventure and explore the world even more..

Being lost in thought, the petite girl did not notice someone in the distance sneaking up behind her.

'..It's really hard being an ar-'

"BOO!"

"AHHH?!"

Furina out of instinct, quickly lifted her arms into a defensive pose to shield her from whatever is coming after her.

"Ahaha! You should've seen the look on your face."

As Furina slowly opened her eyes, she saw a unfamiliar [h/c] person with [e/c] eyes. Realising they were a fontainian, she immediately cleared her throat.

"What look? I was preparing to attack you, you're lucky I took the flight response or else I would've seriously injured you!"

Furina folded her arms looking really displeased with whoever scared her.

"Ahaha.. Sorry, you just looked a little bit depressed. Anyways, I'm [name], nice to meet you. Now, may I ask why such a beautiful lady was looking quite down?"

"B-beautiful?!"

"Mhm! I've heard my friends say that the hydro archon was really pretty. At this rate I might mistake you as them!"

[Name] looking quite content with their response, giving a close-eyed smile.

"Ahem! A-Anyways, to answer your question. I was simply dreading about my workload. I'm fine, don't worry about it."

"Oh really? Guess it isn't a big issue. I'm glad."

'They're glad? I'm just some stranger though, I'm not sure why they're that relieved..'

"So, how's the beach? Pretty relaxing huh? I usually come here after I run my errands."

"Oh.. So this is called a beach, I've never seen one my whole life until today. It really isn't that bad at all to spend a day off here."

Furina then turned her view back to the waves, wanting to treasure this moment before returning to her dull stage.

Suddenly Furina felt something. Only to turn to see [name] placing a rainbow flower in her hair.

"Eh?! What's up with the sudden flowers?! Forget that, how did you even get them?!"

"I did mention I run errands, and that is when I go flower hunting to find beautiful flowers to add to my garden. I decided to give this rainbow flower to you as a gift. It's fitting for a beauty like you~!"

"W-wha-"

"Also, just want to ask, do you work for the hydro archon? You called me a mortal, surely the hydro archon must've have cute colleauges!"

"..."

[Even-More-Fluff Ending] - Optional to read

"Do you not know who the hydro archon is?"

"..Not really, I live on the country side, but I do hear adventurers say that she is dazzling and charismatic. Although it fits into your description.. Surely I'm not talking to the hydro archon."

"...Yeah you're right, I'm not the hydro archon ahahaha! I-I'm her coworker. Yep, pleasure serving under her!"

'God damnit Furina! What are you doing?!'

'...'

'Maybe they are the person I can confide in.. However I know that's impossible, but it does feel nice to not need to put my guard up as high..'

[Bittersweet Ending: continuation of Even-More-Fluff Ending] - Optional to read

When Furina returned to her office in Palais Mermonia. She sat in her chair recounting her recent encounter with [name]. Hoping to see her again.

So she began having meetups with [name] more frequently. Of course, this caught onto Neuvilette's attention since Furina never leaves the city much. So he decided to follow her on one eventful day.

Only to see the archon with a mortal. He didn't know much about this other person that was with Furina so he decided to interrupt their conversation.

"Miss Furina?"

"Huh?! Neuvilette?! W-What are you doing here?"

"Well the hydro archon has been frequently leaving the city for quite a while so I wanted to check it out. Whose this other person you're with?"

"W-wait.. Furina?! You're the hydro archon?!"

[Name] stared in disbelief, immediately apologising for their rude behaviour towards her.

'Well there goes my identity.. Oh well it was pretty fun while it lasted."

[lostsyren]

Imagine sofia/rafe relationship went with the hookup to lovers to enemies and back to lovers trope for s5. Oh that would eat and be epic. I so want sofia to somehow become wealthy —not involved with the kooks but have money and behave aloof to their circle — help her family and live a better life outside the cut without rafe’s help. (and maybe put some of the kooks in their place) I still think there’s conflict with her and her dad that hasn’t been addressed (like is he pushing her to do things for money? Is she forced to provide for her family while her dad does nothing?). Also for rafe to see he needed her way more than she needed him. I don’t want her mopping around for that man I need to see her move on with her life and become a little edgier. It’d be so interesting to see a little change in her character like outwardly for her to be guarded and maybe even behave slyly and sarcastic. But of course, that kindness, soft nature, and care for others is still a part of her.

I was actually thinking what if hollis knew groff could deceive/harm her in some way and added sofia as a beneficiary to her assets in case something went wrong. Her money would be protected from groff and sofia inherits a fortune. It might sound ridiculous, but it’s a way for her to become wealthy and not return to her job.

Also, to me it made sense that they broke up because apart from sofia lying about the deal, rafe has been lying to her from the beginning about his actions and his past. He thought his relationship with her would give him a fresh start and leave the past behind, but he needs to acknowledge what he’s done and show honesty as well—t wasn’t just rumors she heard. They needed to hit this low point in order to level the playing field in their relationship.

Not getting my hopes up though bc I know the pates are interested in exploring #thatship, so I’ll choose to expect nothing. I’m more curious to know what you think😊

“hookup to lovers to enemies and back to lovers trope”

OHHH YESSSSS THIS WOULD EATTT!! Like I want them both to grapple with their resentments with each other– Rafe feeling betrayed and Sofia feeling discarded. That enmity disguising their underlying turmoil of being apart from this person they grew to love and and live with is soooo interesting.

Because Rafe and Sofia lowkey seem sooooo co-dependent. Like they’re so clingy with one another. And we see them be physically intimate, emotionally intimate, intellectually intimate– they both use each other as a crutch for different things. So I’m excited to see how they cope loosing that intense closeness. (Because Rafe literally proposed to her before he left for a 3 week trip– like that’s the longest time they’ve been apart since meeting in s3)

“Also for rafe to see he needed her way more than she needed him. I don't want her mopping around for that man I need to see her move on with her life and become a little edgier.”

YES YES YES!!! 100% agree. I need her to not be so dependent on him, and fight her way out of the predicament he put her in (leaving her jobless, homeless, single all from a 20 sec phone call). And I lowkey think she will. Our introduction to her character said she was “likeable and scrappy”, so I think she’ll channel her inner pogue and be self-preserving. And I totally want to see more of her family, and what her motivations are. Like if she takes on a carer role for her siblings, if her parents are reliant on her for income. And I love your theory about her dad– i definitely think they’re setting him up for something (idk tho because my faith in the writers is non existent).

“outwardly for her to be guarded and maybe even behave slyly and sarcastic. But of course, that kindness, soft nature, and care for others is still a part of her.”

Yessss!! Now that she’s not in her lover girl era I wonder how she’ll respond differently to the kooks. She no longer needs to befriend them since Rafe’s not in her life. I want her to do a complete 180 on them. Like I can totally she her have this cathartic release, where after 18 months of donning this kook facade with her bf, she is finally rid of it. She’s hurt, she’s upset, she’s lost someone she cared about– will she still retain her kindness and empathy? Or reflect her pain back on to the world? And back on to Rafe if he tries to fix things?

“what if hollis knew groff could deceive/harm her in some way and added sofia as a beneficiary to her assets in case something went wrong.”

Get in the writers room rn!!!! Yessss!!! And perhaps that ties her up with Hollis’ murder– maybe shoupe pins it on her since he has no leads on Groff? Maybe she’ll have to go to rafe for help? Or maybe she has to seek out Barry to help her out because she’s heard Rafe mention him before? So many possibilities!! Ahhhh your mind>>>

“They needed to hit this low point in order to level the playing field in their relationship.”

100%!!! Rafe’s past needs to come up. The only way I can think of Sofia being ok with rafe’s crimes and sins is if a he’s committed the same wrongdoings– then she’ll believe his whole spiel of “oh I killed the Sherriff in self defence, I was protecting my dad!” Because she’ll have the same internal conflict. (And I can just imagine Sofia completely losing it, thinking her soul is damned, while rafe tries to be there for her– “you don’t understand” she says, but he does understand, more than she knows)

(Ugh ik, #thatship drains me so badly because anything romantic between them will negate sm of their character development :(. Also you’re soooo sweet, I love hearing what YOU think!! Anddd I’m sooo sorry for the late reply. I don’t wanna give a half-assed response, so I need some time to think and sit down and write all my thoughts!!)

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 32

ngl i thought Crux was a total goner at the beginning of last chapter, but he’s still kicking somehow. he's probably fuelled by pure spite at this point

‘the Reverend Daughter has no cavalier living’ just imagine having to walk around with the knowledge that you are literally dead. like not just that you came back to life or anything, but that your body and you are literally still dead. that's just insane. also what the fuck must Aiglamene be thinking right now, given she has no idea about how Gideon ended up like this

FUCKING IANTHE IS BACK. i fully thought she had finished her ominous appearances in this book, how the hell did she get here so quickly 

i love that she’s apparently adopted Augustine’s smoking habit. it really adds to her James-Bond-Villain flair for the dramatic, which is coming out in full force here 

speaking of the fact that what’s happened to Pyrrha - namely, surviving - isn’t normal, and none of the other Lyctors’ cavaliers nor Naberius survived in a similar way. it might be unlikely given that G1deon is dead and can’t exactly say anything about what went differently during his ascension, but i hope we eventually get more information about how exactly that happened at some point 

yeah the fuck is up with Ianthe, actually. there are so many descriptions of Ianthe looking horrifically pale, and the specific mention here that she looks almost dead and pretty close to Kiriona, who is actually dead, it makes me wonder if there’s something genuinely weird going on with her?

‘Are you ever too late to come into my life and say that’ ooof the relationship between Pyrrha and Gideon is just so painful on both sides

oh for fuck’s sake Kiriona, i can’t believe she’s friends with Ianthe of all people. like they even have a secret handshake, i would kill to know how that relationship developed. these two actually getting along might be the creepiest moment so far actually 

okay, so there’s some interesting insight into Kiriona’s motivations here - if we take her at her word here, she’s got a new primary goal of wanting to be John’s cavalier. again i’m really curious as to how Kiriona and John’s relationship developed to the point that this is something she seems to genuinely want. although it could also be less that its something she really wants and more that she literally has nothing else going for her right now

and more importantly for the overall plot of the series, John is the one who told her to open the tomb and kill Alecto, two things that seem pretty opposed to his motivations earlier in the series. he’s told Kiriona that only she can do it, but given Alecto’s not so much a person as she is a Resurrection Beast in a human body, could anyone even kill her? so if John has the ulterior motive of unlocking the tomb, that makes me very concerned as to the reason why 

and once again like the end of HtN, if Ianthe is openly horrified by something it seems pretty damn dangerous. she seems to know what will happen if Alecto is released and be genuinely terrified of it, which given the look at how powerful John can get when working with Alecto (see: literally killing the entire solar system), I can see why she seems so afraid. plus i might be reading too much into this, but Ianthe’s (most obvious) major goal, becoming a Lyctor, was achieved all the way back in GtN - from the fact that she wants to keep John ‘nothing’, she seems to be pretty desperate to hold onto that status as his only Lyctor 

‘Nona unravelled’ oh no i am not even close to being emotionally prepared for this, even though i knew it was coming 

John really went all out on the religious imagery with the whole tomb thing, like he even sealed it with a rock for pete’s sake 

Palamedes complimenting (presumably) young!Harrow’s efforts at disabling the traps leading to the tomb is everything to me 

also absolutely killing me this chapter are the little hints at Gideon’s continued devotion to Harrow after everything; Gideon begging Harrow, even though she doesn’t know where she is, to ‘keep it together’, the fact that she is so willing to give up all of her blood and die for Harrow a second time. i am so obsessed with these two 

wow I cannot believe that Crux of all people is coming in clutch at the climax of this book

oh wtf Gideon DID end up killing Crux, fucking hell!! rip Crux you died as you lived: being a complete hater. he really made sure his last words were to emotionally destroy Gideon as much as possible huh 

these whole couple of pages are like a microcosm of all of Gideon’s biggest emotional hang ups really. her projecting pretty hard onto Crux about how he ‘could have lived’ for Harrow but can only die for her, her whole moment of boasting to someone who treated her awfully her whole life about how she actually is someone important. and then ending with killing Crux, which of course doesn’t 'feel good' - killing him doesn’t give her any of the parental love that she missed as a child, or remove the emotional abuse she suffered from him, or actually solve any of her emotional issues 

the running narrative in the background about Alecto remembering John leading her to the tomb is pretty disturbing i won’t lie. it's just so creepy to read about him reassuring Alecto as he leads her to essentially what is a jail cell

also i am fully aware that there’s a subplot about Anastasia and Alecto’s relationship in this last chapter, its just that there’s been so much else going on that i honestly just have not been paying attention to it at all

‘Well, happy birthday to me’ oh poor Nona, her wishing herself a happy birthday before she dies just … hurts so bad. she started out genuinely happy and optimistic, and i knew full well it wasn’t going to last, but it still hurts

[tooruuwuu]

acelaw fic idea? or something? HEAR ME OUT

ace lives. somehow. maybe he shows signs of living that go unnoticed at first, everyone trying to rush luffy out of there. law doesn't get to do much other than seeing his dead lover's body from afar, he's absolutely out of it but he knows he needs to save luffy.

(maybe him and luffy interacted back at the auction house, luffy recognising him immediately. "ace was right!! the 'death' on your fingers is so cool!!")

law can only bring himself to blame ace for talking about his baby brother so much. for making law unintentionally have a soft spot for luffy as well. it's all ace's fault. so law focuses on his lover's brother. ace wouldn't want anything to hurt luffy after all.

marco on the other hand notices signs, he notices the slight flicker of pyro on ace's body and he immediately knows, he immediately acts on it, trying his best to get his brother out of here to a place where he can find proper equipment and peace to heal ace while shanks negotiates with the government. the red haired pirates help them out. everything takes time to settle but ace comes out alive.

fast forward to six months, ace wakes up. he calls out for luffy immediately, in panic, a part of him screams for law, for his lover who he hadn't listened to, for his lover who he hadn't seen in god knows how long, for his lover who loved, missed and longed for.

marco had left ace behind with the red haired pirates, trusting them to keep him safe while he gets the whitebeard crew together. they help him out, reassuring ace they'll take him to luffy.

(ace asks about law too. he finds out his lover had saved his baby brother's life, he felt immensely relieved and grateful. but he also found out his lover was now a warlord, it was unexpected but ace knew law must've had his motives.)

ace and luffy's reunion is a tearful one, they cling to each other for days to pass, always by each other's side and rayleigh definitely does not mind another student, curious to get to know ace.

boa hancock was extremely generous to ace. (the man choked on air when the 31 year old woman called him 'brother-in-law'. but he found it rather amusing as well with how uninterested his little brother was about the entire thing)

ace spent his time with luffy, while actively trying to get a hold of law's whereabouts, shakky told him she hadn't heard anything about law in months. ace hated how good his lover was at keeping low profile.

ace has a long discussion with marco. marco and all of the remaining crew had decided to settle down, scattered on different island that were still under their territory, everyone was content with it but marco urged ace to not follow that, offhandedly mentioning how he could tag along with luffy. ("hah!? i don't want my brother to be my captain!" "you're not obliged to work under him, talk to him about it-yoi")

luffy is absolutely ecstatic with the idea of ace wanting to go adventure with him in the new world. happy that his brother will be with him for a longer time.

rayleigh and shakky advice him to disguise himself. while luffy and his crew were just rumoured to be dead it was way worse with ace. the entire world saw him die. so ace goes with it. he leaves for sabaody before luffy, promising to meet him at the sunny go when he's about to set sail. ace spends his entire time trying to dig up information on law, the information he found was interesting, amusing even, but nothing enough to give him any clues on where exactly law was. ace sighs in distress, he hoped the new world will be more helpful.

meeting the crew again was fun, ace realises. from their reactions to him being alive to the little reunion the strawhats had, coming together after two years. (it made ace miss his own crew, his own family)

punk hazard catches his attention in a way no island had in a while. fishman island was fun, but it was an island ace had visited more than once, considering how it was one of his crew's territories- or well used to be.

luffy offers ace to come along with him, zoro, robin and ussop as they set off to explore punk hazard. ace realises soon which area this was, a part of him grimaced, shuddering when he realised who had caused this, who the magma belonged to. he politely refused, joking about how he'll take care of luffy's crew while he's off having fun.

when they get attacked, ace springs into action, but quickly has to withdraw once he realises the men were carrying poisoned gas with them.

he shapeshifts into fire quick, using it as a disguise to hide away from the poison as he eavesdrops their conversation carefully, it seemed they were heading to the other part of the island, the one covered with snow, aokiji's work.

however he does make a mistake, getting to close to the gas without realizing, he tried to find a safe spot immediately, somewhere that would keep him away from getting caught.

he passes out from the gas in the library and is later woken up by brook ("they couldn't kill me cause i'm already dead yohohoho!") ace offers to go look after the others and brook easily agrees, saying he'll take care of the sunny till then.

in the past two years ace trained his haki well, he closes his eyes as he feels the cold wind rush through his face, trying to sense where everyone was located...ah! all the strawhats seemed to be together at one place but...ace freezes. sensing someone unexpected, someone who wasn't part of the strawhats, someone who ace was all too familiar with.

he rushes in that direction immediately, uncaring that he might get caught, too ansty, too desperate to see- feel his love right now.

ace's pace slows down as he reaches an abandoned lab, panting slightly, he can hear luffy talking to the rest. "will you betray me?"

"no." and god. god ace right. the voice was none other than law's. his beloved's, it makes ace feel weak in the knees, his eyes well up, as he finally looks up to where law stood beside luffy. his breath hitched. law was more built, had a long black coat covering his body, his hat was different but has the same pattern, he stil had that spotted jeans he wore on a daily basis and law- god his face was everything. ace had yearned for years to see him again, to hear him again to just- be with law.

ace doesn't wait a single moment, snapping out of his daze as he practically crashes into law, both of them now on the ice cold floor of the abandoned laboratory. "law" he whispers out with so much emotion.

law freezes. quite literally in shock when he felt a body collide into him, he was about to summon his powers when he heard his name, the voice was awfully familiar, law could not being himself to believe any of this was real

"oh torao!" luffy laughed "i completely forgot to tell you about ace! he's alive! see?" law doesn't understand how could luffy forget something so important but it doesn't matter, his hands tremble and shake as they slowly reach out for the man on top of him, the man who had his face buried in law's shoulder. words couldn't form, he couldn't bring himself to speak as his fingers ran through ace's body, finally cupping his face, law stared, and stared more. none of this felt real, he tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat, a hoarse whisper finally tumbles out "ace"

law doesn't say ace's name often, mostly sticking to hiken-ya, but that doesn't pop up in his head when he held his lover's face in his hands, his eyes roaming around his face in confirmation, wanting to believe what he was seeing was true, when ace nodded, giving him the reassurance he needed, law let his tears slip freely.

no one interrupts them and neither of them speak either, too overwhelmed to form words. they'll talk later, they know they will. ace was alive, ace was with law, they had time.

they had time.

[camojacketfag]

hi. been taking a moment to myself after losing so much motivation creatively. recently I've gone back to the things I used to escape as a child. The film sets that I yearned to explore. The music I used to enjoy before my mental health reflected itself in the sad and diaristic songs I have listened to over and over on repeat for the past 4 years. The books that taught me to hope and dream and learn and keep fighting. it's humbling to look back and see that somehow, despite the odds, I'm overcoming it all. By my lonesome. Which is worth commending and celebrating. Too many therapists and friends and family have all insisted that the past is never worth exploring. What's done is done and life goes on. Yet I've found it hard to ignore the beckoning calls of my past self yearning to be reborn and relived and validated. You'll never get your old self back. Yet, you never had to to begin with. He, or she, or they, live inside. Still as hopeful. Still as curious and eager to be let in. You'll find in time that the past will never go away. Like you and I, it breathes and rages and dissolves into particles of energy and light that will one day help guide you to a place where you can learn to be proud of yourself. To accept yourself. And most of all, to love yourself. The past is still alive. And I hope you find a way to one day welcome it with open arms.

Thank you for validating my creativity on here. It means the world. To finally have people looking at and sharing what I've carefully pieced together all on my own is such a special thing. I promise I'll start posting more soon.