#y'all i was so excited when i got to write this

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 5- Miles Between Us

Summary: Frankie's decision to join the Army was the catalyst in the collapse of your friendship. When he's forced to reconcile with his past, packed away in boxes in his childhood basement, he finds pieces of you in everything he's left behind.

Word Count: 5.0K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, lying, guilt, military deployment, FEELINGS, Frankie's mom not putting up with his shit

A/N: IT'S TIME TO PEEL BACK ANOTHER LAYER OF THE ONION, BABY!!! I hope you guys don't hate me that this is a slow burn- I know this is not how I normally write at all, but it's been really fun to build this story up bit by bit (if you hate it though, please tell me lmao 💀) I'm excited for this chapter and how it hints at next chapter (we're finally getting to some smut y'all, omg) Thank you as always for your kind words, it makes my day to hear what you have to say about these two 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You, Age 17, Spring of 2006

“You’re late, Morales.” 

“Can’t be late to something we don’t have a set time for, Anderson.” 

It’s true, you and Frankie have never set an official schedule for your afterschool ritual, but it never seems to fail that at 3:45, only 10 minutes after you’ve gotten home from soccer practice,  he’s at the foot of your bed with his forest green Jansport backpack, ready to complain about the homework he doesn’t want to finish and the tests he has no interest in studying for, just so he can keep you company while you stress yourself to death about the same assignments. 

And for as much as he hated school work, Frankie was never late. Never. So to watch him mope into your bedroom an hour later than his usual arrival time, it almost would have been safer to assume he was dead than anything else. 

“What took you so long? Get lost on the way here?” You joke, trying to keep it light while still prodding for an answer about his absence as you write down the answer to the math equation you’re trying to solve. 

“No. Don’t worry about it.” 

There’s been very few occasions you’ve seen Frankie so stoic. Even on his worst days, he’s at least still got a little tolerance left in him for your stupid banter. It’s enough to draw your attention completely away from your homework and onto him. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you being so weird?” 

You can tell then that something’s clearly not right, the way he’s angrily yanking loose papers and textbooks from his backpack and nearly slamming them onto the edge of your bed, making you gnaw anxiously at the end of your pencil you’d been using. 

You’re too nosy for your own good to let up until you find what you’re looking for. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Well obviously something’s wrong.” 

“What? I’m not allowed to be late, ever?” 

“No? Frankie, I just asked where you were and you’re acting like I’m asking you if you just shot the fucking president or something. What’s going on?” 

“It’s nothing, MacKenzie!”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you so upset about it?” 

“I’m not upset!” 

“You clearly are? Frankie, what the hell are you-” 

“I’m joining the Army, okay?!”

Out of all the things you could have expected to come out of Frankie’s mouth, that would have been at the bottom of your list. In fact, it’s so out of left field, you’re not even quite sure you believe him. 

Your forehead hurts from how tightly your brows are knitted together in confusion, scowling at Frankie with a dumbfounded intensity that probably had you looking like you had just gotten an unsuspecting whiff of the world’s most sour lemon. 

There’s no way he’s being serious. He can’t be. 

“Ha ha, very funny, Francisco.” You mock, frown still splayed across your face, “Now will you please tell me what’s actually going on?” 

His silence makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You can feel the way your face falls, the muscles once tensed in adamant skepticism now sinking into a quiet panic. You can hear each breath as it flows in through your nose and out through your mouth, blood pounding louder and louder in your ears with each pulse of your veins. 

“Frankie, if this is one of your stupid jokes, it’s not funny.” 

“It’s not a joke.” 

His eyes are still peeled to the floor, too afraid to bring himself to look at you. All he can do is stare at his pinky toe, poking out of the hole in his socks that he refuses to replace. You wait for what feels like hours, days, for him to say something, but his silence is deafening. And the sound of Frankie’s silence is the scariest thing you’ve heard in a very long time. 

It’s so terrifying, the only thing you can do to cope is fill the quiet void with your rambling and pray that Frankie Morales is choosing to play the world’s worst joke on you. 

“What- what do you mean? Frankie, I thought- When you and Santi talked about doing the same thing as Will- I thought you were fucking kidding? What about college? We already both got accepted to Florida State, what are you gonna do-” 

“I didn’t get in.” 

Please let him be kidding. Please, please, let this be a sick joke. 

You can feel your confusion starting to bubble into anger, jaw clenching at the way Frankie’s too coward to even look in your general direction, gaze still glued to that stupid fucking hole in his worn down sock. 

“Frankie, what the fuck? We both got accepted back in January? You’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?” 

“I didn’t wanna lie, okay?!” 

He’s riddled with enough guilt to speak up, trying to keep himself from the brink of tears as he works up enough courage to finally look you in the face. You can hear how hard he gulps, like his heart is bobbing in his throat, trying to buy all the time he can to come up with a reason for his deception that won’t hurt you any more than he already has. 

“I just- fuck,” he sighs, chewing at his bottom and bouncing his leg against the bed so intensely it’ll make him sore the next day, “I didn’t know what to do, Kenz. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” 

It’s hard to stay mad at him when you know he means it. It’d be easier if it weren’t for the way his brown eyes flooded with disappointment in himself, spilling out in tears onto his cheeks. For as frustrated as you are, you have enough sympathy to ease up on him enough to at least try to understand. 

“Well, not lying to me about it for the last four months probably would have been a good start.” You huff, the air that puffs from your nostrils still tainted with the let down you’re trying so hard to not let override your conversation. 

You can’t help but let yourself find a spot next to him on the edge of your bed, a peace offering that you hope is enough to signal to him you’re willing to listen to what he has to say. 

“I- I didn’t think you were being serious when you and Santi were talking about it. I- I thought you- I thought the plan was to go to Florida State. Together. What happened, Frankie?” 

It’s quiet for a few more moments. Frankie takes a few, slow deep breaths as he runs his hands through the curls twisting at the nape of his neck. The silence isn’t as bitter as before, but it stings enough to gnaw at the edges of your nails, the anxious habit you can’t seem to break, and certainly have no intention of giving up right now.  

“Stop chewing at your nails, Kenz. You’re gonna be pissed at yourself later.” Frankie sighs, gently grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away from your mouth, trying to fulfill his duty of being the one to stop you from ripping your nail beds to shreds. 

“You’re kinda making it hard not to.” You try your best to attempt a laugh. It’s the only way to keep yourself from crying. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?” 

“Y-yeah.” Frankie re-adjusts himself on the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of your comforter between his fingers, trying to ground himself in the reality of the truth he’s forced to tell you, “I- I didn’t get into Florida State. I told you I did because I didn’t know what I was gonna do. You were just so excited when you thought we both got in and I- I panicked and I lied. I didn’t even think I was gonna get in anyways. I didn’t think I was gonna get in anywhere. Even if I did, I don’t know if I even could have afforded it. It’s just me and my mom and neither of us-”

“It’s not too late. I can help you look for scholarships. To help you with tuition. I’m sure that there’s a bunch out there that you could apply for. I’ll even write your essays and stuff for you if you want me to-” 

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, Kenz. Plus, you hate cheaters.” 

Frankie tries to reciprocate the same half-assed laugh you gave him. He looks over at you, the small smile he’s forcing to keep between his lips quickly fading as he sees the way you’re pleading with him to realize that you would forge a thousand essays in his name if it meant he wasn’t going to leave you. He’d be a cheater you’d gladly forgive. 

“It’s not even just the money. I just- I- I don’t even like school, Kenzie. I suck at it. If school is already hard now, how much harder is it gonna be when I get to college? To study for a job that I’m probably not even gonna want when I graduate? At least with the Army I can have a job and benefits and hopefully make enough money to help my mom so she’s not working at the hospital 6 days a week. MacKenzie, the only reason I applied to Florida State was because of you. I thought that maybe there would be some miracle I got in and I could figure out how to pay for it and I could magically get smarter and better at school so we could spend the next four years together. I wanted it to happen. I wanted it to happen so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I just- fuck- I just didn’t know how to tell you.” 

Neither of you are quite sure what to say next. That quiet comes back to fill the space between you, allowing enough room for the silent sobs you’re both trying your best to hold in, small sniffles still escaping from each of you. You’re not sure if your brain has fully processed what he’s had to say. The only thing you can understand is the swirling of sadness and confusion in your gut and the pounding ache in your chest. 

You take a scooch closer to him, the outsides of your thighs barely brushing together as you tilt your head to rest against his shoulder. It’s heavy, the weight you can’t help but lean against him, but the arm he wraps behind your back and around your waist tells you that he’ll gladly take it. He’ll take it all, if he has to. 

“Did you already sign a contract to go?” The whisper of your words is so soft, like you’re hoping he can’t hear you. If he can’t hear you, then he doesn’t have to tell you the answer you don’t want to hear. 

“Yeah. Me and Santi did a few weeks ago.” His voice is almost quieter than yours, convinced he has the same idea as you. 

His truth stings worse than the lie he’s been masquerading behind the past four months. You want to scream at him- To curse him with shouts and sobs, question how he could make this choice for himself and leave you in the dark until it’s too late for you to change his mind. You know it’s selfish, the way you want him to stay, the way you would have fought with every bone in your body to keep him from leaving. You know it’s the reason Frankie couldn’t tell you. 

It’s the same reason why Frankie couldn’t bring himself to tell you that if he had given you that chance, he probably would have stayed. 

“Do um- do you know when you have to leave?” 

It hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. It’s an admittance of defeat. Because once you ask that question, there’s nothing you can do or say that will make him stay. No fighting, no begging, no pleading. You have to accept he’s leaving. 

“Not ‘til the end of the summer.” 

“Where?” 

The more you ask, the more it makes you want to keel over the edge of the bed and vomit, the reality of it all setting in at an alarming pace. 

“Missouri for basic training. I don’t know where after.” 

He doesn’t have to say where. You both know. Even if he doesn’t know the exact longitude and latitude of where the Army will deploy him, there’s nowhere else they’re sending him besides Iraq or Afghanistan or whatever godforsaken, war ridden country in the Middle East he’ll be forced to put his life on the line for. 

And for how much the reality of Frankie leaving scares you, when you’re hit with the reality that Frankie may leave and never come back, you’re absolutely terrified. 

“I don’t want you to go, Frankie.” 

You can’t beg him to stay. There’s no amount of bargaining you can do with him or the powers that be to change what’s been done. All you can do is tell him your truth as you sob into his chest while he holds you. Maybe if you’re not enough to make him stay, you’re at least enough to make him want to come home. 

You’re not sure how long he holds you while you cry. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours. However long it is, all the moments you have left with Frankie feel that much more precious. You won’t let any of them slip through your fingers. 

“You promise you’ll come home, right?” 

“I promise, MacKenzie. I promise.” 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Francisco Morales, it’s that he’ll never break a promise. You just hope the universe is kind enough to let him keep this one, too. 

“I promise that we’ll have a really fun summer together before I leave too, okay? Whatever you wanna do, Kenz, I’ll do it.” 

“Anything?” 

It’s enough to peek your head out from the crook of his neck, trying your best to wipe away your tears with your sleeve, like you hadn’t just stained the better part of Frankie’s sweatshirt with the same wetness. 

“Anything.” 

“Alright, well, I guess we’re gonna go to Dairy Queen and get an extra large blizzard every day until you’re too fat for the Army to want you anymore.” 

The two of you giggle, a quiet symphony of soft snorts and sobs at the idea of rolling an ice cream filled Frankie off to boot camp. It makes him laugh even harder that he wouldn’t put it past you if you really did try. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you did. 

“Whatever you want, MacKenzie. I’m all yours.” 

Frankie, Present 

Frankie’s convinced he might as well start training for a marathon at this point. 

He’s not really sure how else to spend his time. It’s hard to keep himself occupied when all he can do at home is sit around and wait for your dad to die or stare out the window like a creep to watch your comings and goings. 

At least if he’s running, he can’t think about you. 

Well, he can’t think about you as much. 

It’s been a day and a half since he decided to follow you on your run. He’s already pushed his luck enough that you didn’t damn near kill him for it, let alone that you even gave him a chance to talk to him. 

He let you take the first  shift on the morning yesterday, despite the fact he’d been awake well before the sun rose. The irony wasn’t lost on him at the way he watched you through his bedroom window the same way he did most Saturday and Sunday mornings for the first few years of your friendship. You’d be up at the same ungodly hour as him, except you’d be pacing up and down your driveway, stretching and lunging across its length as you clicked around on the iPod wrapped around your forearm, searching for whatever song would pump you up for your run. 

It wasn’t until you had finally noticed Frankie peering out his bedroom window every weekend that you began to drag him along on your runs with you. 

“If you’re awake too, you might as well come running with me, Morales. It’ll be fun!” 

“Fine. I gotta warn you though, Kenz, I am actually pretty fast.” 

“You barely run the mile in gym class.” 

“Savin’ up all my energy for when I need it most, Anderson.” 

There was once a time where you would have to beg Frankie to come with you on a run. Now, he’d give anything for you to tolerate his existence ten feet behind you. 

But he’ll sacrifice another run alone through all too familiar roads of his childhood subdivision if it helps him kill time and keeps you from hating him anymore than you rightfully deserve to. 

Yesterday, he went on two runs to pass the time. Hell, today, he’d consider adding a third run to his underwhelming schedule just to keep himself busy. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell yet) for him, Maria Morales has other plans. 

And when Maria Morales has plans, it’s in Frankie’s best interest to drop anything else he had in mind for the day. 

Even when it means he’s got a hot date with his basement and a mountain full of boxes in his basement. 

“Okay, anything in this pile to the left is for you to go through.” His mom grunts, lifting up one last box to add to the heap labeled “Francisco’s things” in her perfectly curved cursive, “If you want to take it home, find an empty box to put it in, but not my new clear, plastic bins, entiendes (understand)? Those were expensive.” 

“No clear plastic bins, got it.” Frankie chuckles, following the exaggerated step his mother takes over his scattered belongings. 

“If you see something and you don’t want it now but you want me to keep it for later, you can put it over on the shelf by the stairs. If you think it’s basura (trash), leave it over here and let me look at it first before you throw it away.” 

“Comprendido (got it).” Frankie nods, sizing up the stack his mom has set out for him, “Jesus ma, this is gonna take me all morning to go through.” 

“If you were home more, there would be less things to go through now.” 

“Yeah, well, you got me there.” Frankie grumbles under his breath, grimacing at the harsh reality of his mom’s words. He knows isn’t meant completely out of malice, but he can’t deny it’s certainly got some truth to it as well.  

“Okay, well I need to go run some errands, and I want this pile sorted by the end of the day, so standing here and moping certainly isn’t going to help that. Get to work, mijo (son).” 

His mom will never be one to throw a pity party for anyone, and most definitely won’t be throwing one for her son, based on his own, self-inflicted problem. Frankie helps her step over another makeshift pile scattered for sorting across the basement floor, giving him a quick pat on the back before disappearing upstairs, leaving him to quite literally unpack his past. 

“Fuck. Okay.” He sighs to himself, gently kicking one of the edges of flimsy cardboard at the bottom of the tower, trying to formulate his best plan of attack to make his sorting as painless as possible. 

He’s thankful that his brain has always worked in a way that allows him to analyze things so quickly, doing some quiet calculations in his head as to the most effective and efficient way to sort through god knows what may be hidden in the pile his mom has created for him. 

He runs his hand through the still messy curls of his morning bed head before selecting what feels like the lightest boxes and moving them off to the side, opening up a cardboard container from the next layer. 

Besides the trophies still in his room, every prize he’d ever won for every sport he’d ever played sits in the box below him. Frankie chuckles to himself, picking up some from the top to examine them, thumb gliding over the fake gold plating to read plaques like “Florida Junior Divisional Freestyle Swimming Finalist- 2005” or “Regional Championship Winners- Florida Firebirds 2007” glued to poorly sculpted plastic statues of swimmers. A few more medals and certificates had sunk to the bottom of the box, Frankie quickly grazing through its contents before rehoming it to the “trash” pile, unsure of when he would ever need proof he won several swimming competitions in high school. 

The next few boxes were more of the same- His varsity jacket, old t-shirts he wouldn’t stand a chance fitting into, considering the gangly figure that stretched them more than a decade ago, some old books from high school he’d only kept because of how much you loved them and he promised you that one day, he’d read them, too. 

It’s the shoe box that catches his eye next, sure that no matter how much his mom loved to hoard, whatever was in there most definitely was not a raggedy, holy pair of Converse from high school. 

It’s not until he picks up the box that he knows exactly what’s inside. It’s one of the lightest things he’s picked up in the last hour, but when he knows the weight of its contents, his arms want to tremble. 

It’s with a long deep breath that he brings the shoebox over to an open patch of floor, letting out a grunt and cursing his knees as he sits down cross legged with the box in front of him. He gently flips open the lid, hand running over his face and down the back of his neck when his suspicions are confirmed. 

Open envelopes spill out over the edges of the worn cardboard, the box stuffed to the brim with every letter you’d ever written to him while he was away.

Even if he wanted to, he’s not sure he could ever physically bring himself to throw them out. Those letters have more miles on them than most people’s cars will ever reach in a lifetime, flimsy, stamped pieces of paper following him to every corner of the globe he’s traveled to. 

Some letters he’s read so much, they’re worn on the edges where he’s held the paper, smudging the pen that’s reached the sides of the pages. Others, he’s only read once. He’s not sure he could ever bring himself to read them again. But regardless of their contents, he’d made a promise to you they’d stay with him. 

“Better not get rid of those letters, Morales. Do you know how many hand cramps I’ve given myself trying to find the words to send halfway across the world to you? You better promise me you’ll keep ‘em.”  

His commitment to the folded pieces of paper ring in his ears as his fingers drag across the tops of the open envelopes. He can’t help the way his index finger and thumb pinch the paper below his grasp, carefully tugging a random letter out of its shoebox storage. 

It’s a gut wrenching gamble, the game he’s about to play, a roulette of making his heart ache from joy or pain depending on the one he chooses to pull. He’s already placed his bet as he pulls the lined piece of paper out of the envelope- He’s not getting the money he’s already placed on the table back, so he might as well pray he makes a return on his investment. 

With one more deep breath, he unfolds the tri-fold creases, ready to watch his bet play out before him. 

August 18th, 2006

Frankie, 

I hope I sent this letter to the right place! I looked on the website and it said to send mail to new recruits (that’s you, Morales), to this address, so no one better be holding my letter to you hostage. 

Anyways, how’s training so far? Did they make you shave your head yet? I hope not. I’m not sure why the Army insists on making you all look like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. I’m sure you’ll still look cute even with short hair! I don’t think I can say the same for Santi, but you didn’t hear that from me… hehehe 

I just moved into my dorm yesterday! My roommate seems pretty nice. Her name is Jessica and she’s from Georgia. She claims that she’s neat and she better be, or I may lose my mind. I’ll send you pictures of my dorm once it’s all set up! It’s kind of a mess right now, but I made sure to put the picture of us from prom up on my desk :)

I don’t start class until next Tuesday. Hopefully I’ll meet some new people in my dorm or on the soccer team so I’m not a total loser with no friends. LOL. 

Have you met anyone new yet? I can’t wait to hear all about your new Army friends! I already started a countdown calendar until we can see each other again. Only 70 days until basic training is done and I can hear about everything in person! 

I miss you a lot. I know that’s dumb to say because it’s only been a week, but still. I wish I would have kissed you again before you got on the plane to leave. I promise I will when I see you. Nothing says perfect place to kiss like South Missouri, romance capital of the USA (haha). 

I know you’re gonna be busy, but write me back when you have time. The return address on the envelope is my dorm address, so use that, or risk Doug and Michelle reading your mail if you send it to my house!!! I can’t wait to hear from you. Miss you, weirdo. 

From, 

Kenz :) <3

His luck of the draw sends a wave of relief through him, smiling down at the curvy loops of your perfectly neat printing signed at the bottom of the page. It makes his heart skip a beat, the same kind of butterflies coming to life in his stomach as they did the first time he read it. He’s earned his money back and then some. He gets how casinos never go broke, because the high of good fortune is enough to have him reaching back into the box to put another gamble on the line. 

October 13th, 2009

Frankie, 

I always feel dumb sending multiple letters before I hear back from you, but you know me, I love to worry. I know you can’t tell me where you are right now (stupid military and their secrets for the safety of society lol) but I’ve been seeing stuff on the news and it makes me scared for you. I just hope wherever you are, you’re safe. 

My dad’s cancer is back. He’s been in the hospital for almost two weeks now. They found a new mass on his liver, but they said hopefully they can target it with radiation before it starts to spread. Cassandra at the front desk asked how you were when I was at the hospital yesterday. I said that you were good. I think she’s only asking because if you’re not there, there’s no one to keep me from burning a hole in the waiting room carpet. 

I wish you were here. I feel really lost right now. I just know if you were here, you’d find a way to make everything better. You always do. 

Sorry this letter isn’t longer. I haven’t been sleeping that great and don’t have enough brainpower to write something decent. Just wanted to let you know what’s going on.  

Counting down the days until you make good on your promise. I hope you come home soon, Frankie. 

Kenzie 

He curses himself for an unlucky draw, heart sinking at the tear stains smearing the blue ink of your trembling letters. An overwhelming wave of guilt washes over him, vivid memories of reading your notes in his bunk alone, wishing there was a way he could fly halfway around the world for a night just to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay. 

It’s the addictive itch in the back of his brain that makes him decide to pull one more letter from the box, taking one last gamble to see if he can prove the nagging pit in his stomach to quit while he’s ahead, wrong. 

February 4th, 2011

Hey, 

If you don’t want to write anymore, that’s fine. I was trying to be friendly, but clearly you don’t really care. Just let me know and I’ll stop bombarding you with mail you obviously don’t want. Or I guess you not responding is letting me know. If you want to send anything back you can send it to my parents house. I’m moving into Liam’s house and it’s only 20 minutes away so I can just drive there and pick it up. No need to send you a new address you probably aren’t going to write to, anyways. 

I guess I’ll see you when I see you. 

MacKenzie 

And that’s how Vegas will always stay in business. 

Because now Frankie is forced to walk away, all his money stolen from him at the stupid risk he’s decided to take. The one letter he’d give anything not to read again is the one he had to pull. 

Heat seethes in his chest- he can’t quite explain why. Because he lost at a rigged game he’d set up for himself? That he still hasn’t quite come to terms with the ugly truth of what he put the both of you through? That he wishes with everything in him, he could go back and change what he’s done? 

Or maybe, it’s because now might be the last chance he has to fix what he’s broken, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to live with himself if he can’t.

He leaves the pile in the basement unfinished, shoes barely tied to his feet before he bursts out the door in a sprint.

He's not sure where he's going. He's not even sure how long he's run for. All he knows is the pounding of his feet against the pavement, trying to outrun the stupid decisions of his past.

He tells himself if he runs fast enough, he'll beat them.

If he goes far enough, they'll be forgotten.

If he outraces them, you'll be there waiting for him at the finish line.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[murfpersonalblog]

Sincerely, thank you SO much for all of the input you (and @alleyskywalker) have been giving me; talking to y'all has really raised a lot of excellent points that I hadn't considered. I'm definitely doing a revised Trial Timeline Pt2d, to make a few changes based on everything we've discussed together.

Sam's presence by Armand's side

"When Daniel points out the inconsistency of the memory of Sam’s role in the trial, Louis experiences cognitive dissonance, because Armand has told him and most likely wants to believe that his companion of 77 years was also a victim. To resolve this dissonance, Louis ends up blaming himself by saying he’s the one remembering things wrong."

Yes, y'all have convinced me that Sam was probably NOT a fake memory from Armand or a hallucination from Louis' thoughts. Sam was just moving back & forth b/t Armand's box to watch the Trial play out, and the Wet Room to torture Louis.

Which is a theory I really like, cuz it makes Louis' excuse that he never went after Sam cuz "time heals all wounds" seem even more sus, cuz this is the man largely in charge of writing the play & all of the horrible things about you & Claudia. You killed the frikkin musicians, but not the actual writer?????

Same with when people point out Louis' strange personality changes b/t 2x4 & 2x5, how he's mad one second and hearteyes the next, like...?

So I'm VERY excited to get Sam in S3, cuz he's got SO MUCH explaining to do.

Coup & Script

From the show, Santiago went to Louis’ apartment to find evidence they could nail him on. Before that, they didn’t really have anything to put Louis on trial: the maitre had given him dispensation from joining the coven; he’s not the one who turned a child. They could kill Claudia based on her being ‘deformed’ alone, and I think until Santiago knew about their killing of Lestat, that was the plan. So can we assume that Sam started writing the play in April 1949, but it was a meatless play, which is why Santiago went looking for something and ended up finding Claudia’s diaries in June/July, a time when Armand was heavily distracted because Louis had committed to a companionship with him. 

No wait, Santiago went looking for the diaries in late 1947/early 1948, way before Sam wrote the Trial script in 1949 (AND Godot). Sam already knew they'd tried to kill Les in 1949, he already had the diaries by then.

But it was still a meatless play, agreed, cuz they wanted LESTAT'S testimony. Which is why we then get Roget's interrogation in 1948ish, and them climbing the Eiffel Tower in 1949--they wanted the drama of Lestat being on the stage, "swearing on his own blood" that "his" version of (scripted) events was true. Cuz they're vicious; it twists the knife to have Les' testimony be the thing that condemns them.

Maybe what we saw of Celeste and Estelle's conversation on the bridge was one of those times the audience got a rare objective reconstruction of events. But since Louis is the one doing the retelling at this point of the story, let's assume he was privy to their conversation, and that Santiago’s insistence that he was Maître probably convinced him that Armand was telling the truth about his involvement. (I think the show was doing that thing where they’re trying to tell us Armand wasn’t the mastermind behind the whole thing, but it was done so clumsily that it feels out of tune with the tone of the show).

Celeste & Estelle give 2 reasons--the London coven targeting their weakness, or Eglee being mad that Santiago dumped her for Celeste. So yes, their convo speaks to the coven's insecurities about their tenuous loyalties to e/o--no honor amongst thieves, a group's only as strong as their weakest link. Santiago insisted that he was the mastermind of the whole Trial the same way he wanted everyone to follow him as Maitre. Louis was right about him in the park, "He wants your job."

So I have no doubt that it was Santiago's plan from the start--he wanted Louis dead the second Louis fell asleep during Santiago's performance in 2x2 & didn't wanna watch anymore of their plays, "persona non grata." This whole Trial is about Santiago's beef with Louis ever since, and he dragged Claudia, Lestat, AND Armand into this mess. I was shocked that more people blamed Armand for Claudia's death than Santiago, like wtf? He literally said IT WAS ME!

But the juicy question is: WHEN did Armand agree to follow Santiago's schemes? WHEN did Armand start lying REALLY? 🤷

Loumand

Did Armand lie to Louis about Gabrielle and Nicki, or was he lying/not telling stuff to Daniel?

Louis said in 2x3 "He abandoned Nicky. He abandoned Armand. He abandoned the coven. Lestat is, was, and will always be, for Lestat." So Armand has obvs lied by omission TO LOUIS before about Lesmand's past, cuz that is NOT the full truth, as I explained in the post I linked--Sam even says in the article that Rolin deliberately wanted Gabrielle's absence to be a red flag about Armand's unreliable narration.

Which makes me think Armand can’t just snap his fingers and rewire a memory. It’s probably easier when someone is ‘half in love with easeful forgetting’, but even then, a vampire who’s feeding human every other day, as Louis is in Paris, isn’t so easy to memory wipe to the extent of never remembering anything despite interacting with the memory wiper every day compared to a drugged up, drained human who manages to retrieve important memories while dying of a neurodegenerative disease. I guess this is me coming out as the person who believes that Louis asked Armand to erase the memory of him going into the sun (Armand took advantage, of course, and painted himself as a saviour, but I’m convinced the initial decision to erase those memories was Louis’).

Agreed! It could very well have been Louis' decision to ask Armand to wipe his memories.

BUT.

That loops us back to this:

Same thing with the pages he removed from the diary. Louis knew what was in those pages, he’d had access to them for a while, he was okay with them being shown/not shown to Daniel. He also knew that Armand had made the unilateral decision to remove some of the diary pages because he didn’t want Daniel to know certain things about him.

SOME of the pages Armand removed WITHOUT Louis' knowledge and consent/permission, behind Louis' back, "on my own", Armand admits this himself:

Cuz like I've said 1000x times, Armand abused Louis' trust, and took advantage of Louis over & over again, and played him for a fool. YES, Louis ripped pages out (eg: Claudia's rape). And yes, Loumand obvs agreed to the Rashid ruse together, to protect Armand's true identity from Dan cuz of what happened in SanFran.

But the pages Armand removed "on my own" were NOT part of their agreement--Dan would've just read Armand's name & been like WHO? And Louis & "Rashid" would've just been like: Oh, the coven master, move on. Armand didn't cover his tracks well enough--he was sloppy. And revealing himself "this time I won't save your life" blew that whole "Rashid" plan out the water. And ironically, revealing himself was the string that unraveled this whole web of lies. Cuz Dan had his scent at that point, and followed it all the way to Sam & the Talamasca & the rest of Armand's lies.

It ain't a good look, and it casts Louis' agency asking to be mindwiped in SanFran into HIGHKEY question. No mental health expert who works with traumatized neurodivergent victims of abuse would EVER agree that Louis was in the right mind during that time:

fresh off a suicide attempt and STILL burned from it (even when they took Dan to the drug den he's got the burns on him in the Talamasca photos; so Louis wasn't even healed at the time & was still in incredible pain)

AND a mental breakdown (triggered by drugs, Dan's rudeness demanding to be Louis' Lestat, and Armand's deep cuts during their fight)

AND a traumatic phonecall he did NOT ask for (thanks Armand) with the Maker he was told (by Armand) had sentenced him to death in the Trial

So yes, I also believe Louis asked Armand to mindwipe him. But Armand should've never done it, cuz Louis wasn't mentally well to make that kind of decision with full consent, and his anger about it in Dubai strongly indicates that if he HAD been more cognizant, he wouldn'tve wanted it done either.

Again: Armand is well aware that it makes him look better in Louis' mind to have those memories removed--not just that Louis tried to kill himself, but also the entire fight Loumand had--Louis admitting how he was bored to dangit death being with Armand & hated having sex with him; and Armand mocking Paul's suicide (a la SanFran) and Grace burying Louis alive (a la Paris) and Claudia resenting Louis (a la Merrick). Their whole fight was about Louis' deep discontent being with Armand anymore, and by erasing Louis' memories of the fight, it allowed Armand to rewrite history so that Louis never even remembered that he didn't like Armand anymore & that Lou was READY to call it quits with Armand in 1973--even if it killed him.

Which ofc brings us back to the complex self-preserving/self-sabotaging choices Armand makes. Cuz on one hand, he's terrified of being alone, and is not above lies & mindewipes to keep someone with him; but on the other hand, he's also not above throwing them to the wolves like castoffs the second he has better options. Which is KINDA book accurate...but kinda NOT book accurate. Which is my personal beef with AMC!Armand vs book!Armand.

But, we’ve seen Armand distracted and unable to use his powers in Dubai, like when Rashid and Daniel lie to him about what went on in the restaurant, or when Rashid brought Daniel a fat-ass newspaper, or when Daniel was plotting to reveal everything at the table. The only person who used mind reading often in Dubai was Louis, not Armand. Now, maybe it was the show not knowing what to do with Armand since they’d made him too powerful and if he was a Master Plotter, there’s no reason why he wouldn’t be able to see the plotting around him in Dubai. But let’s go with what the show has told us: when in love, Armand fails to see what’s happening around him.  Let’s say he was so in love with Louis, that he not only lost interest in the coven and broke the rules he’d enforced for centuries, but he also deluded himself into believing that other coven members wouldn’t rebel against his selective tyranny.

That's been my deep suspicion since Day 👏 Effing 👏 ONE. 👏 I'm convinced Rolin never intended for Armand to get so popular in the fanbase, and was fully prepared to throw him under the bus with the "Banishment" plot twist & make him the bad guy & look even worse than he was in the books; by helping to plan his own companion's murder, and lie about saving him for 77 years.

Cuz IMO book!Armand is MUCH easier to defend; he's my fave character in TVC, BECAUSE to a large extent he was right: toddler!Claudia was an abomination, she was the ONLY one who stabbed/poisoned Les, Louis was 100% oblivious to her plotting, and Armand never had any intention of killing Louis. The effed up part was killing Madz, who had nothing to do with anything. The whole duplicitous backstabbing aspect of the Trial only pertained to Armand torturing Les to force him to condemn Claudia, and lying to Lou that Les had died after the Trial/fire. Armand was THE most powerful vamp, and Santiago was more in the background. AMC!Armand's actions against Louis are skeevy AF, casting into question how he could be so painfully oblivious, both to Santiago AND Daniel plotting. book!Armand loyally stayed with Louis until Louis was literally too depressed to be around anymore. He never wiped Lou's memory or anything, he just left Lou to his own devices, which was the SMART/BETTER thing to do--regardless of if AMC!Lou asked him to erase the memories or not (post-suicide attempt & mental break; the dubcon is through the ROOF 😩).

I'm in the same position as Lestans who hate AMC!Lestat, cuz I find AMC!Armand SO much worse; I don't like or trust him AT ALL. And I see no logical explanation for AMC changing so much, other than that that's what AMC intended us to feel about him here. 🤷 Only difference is that Loustat's still endgame, so there HAS to be a redemption arc for Lestat, "can I cry and say I'm sorry, too!?" in order to make Loustat getting back together palatable. Lestat's the new MC, and Lestat's endgame for Louis, period, Rolin's said it 1000x. AMC has zero obligation to make Armand look any better, cuz Loumand's not endgame; Armand's not a focal point going forward. I reckon fan pressure from the Devil's Minion side will be MOST influential for getting AMC to give Armand a redemption arc--but that would be making a Armand better person for Daniel's sake as his Maker, NOT Louis' sake as his ex. But who knows, time will tell.

Loustat

Did Lestat do this literally, or did he recount the events out loud from his point of view, and Louis remembered? Because Claudia saw/heard the same things: it’s why she told him that Lestat was doing the retelling to hurt him further and what made her get on her feet to mock the audience for believing him.

I like your earlier point that AMC is obvs. adding objective POVs, where I responded about my own suspicions wrt 3rd person POVs AMC has included.

And I also like @alleyskywalker's point that maybe it's Armand sharing/projecting images/memories to Louis & Claudia--although that still leaves the door open for him to interfere with things.

Another thing that bugs me about the extent of Armand’s memory wiping powers is, if he’s time and time again used this power to paint Lestat in a negative light: 1: What purpose does softening Louis’ perception of himself serve? From what we’ve seen, Louis’ belief that he’s unable to control his temper and often causes grave damage to himself or others is crucial to the control Armand has over him. Making him believe he was helpless to stop Lestat’s turning of Claudia or unable to go through with burning Lestat because of Claudia doesn’t serve Armand in any way because then Louis would think he’s incapable of causing harm when he’s not under the power of stronger forces (older vampires, a child he loves unconditionally, etc). Having Louis believe he has self-control wouldn’t do Armand de I Need to be Needed any favours.

The Trial's EP4 revisit wasn't about softening Louis' perception of himself or making Louis think he could/couldn't stop Lestat. It was about implicating Louis in being aware of the coven's Great Laws forbidding turning children, and him making/manipulating/forcing Lestat to do it for him anyway, deliberately breaking the law & thus being guilty & deserving to be put to death. It painted Louis negatively to the audience AND the IRL fanbase. It wasn't about benefiting Armand per se; rather, it was just another coal on Louis' head to guarantee that he would be found guilty & killed. (And I've spoken sat length about why I think the revisit's scripted AF, even though SOME parts of it DO match with what we already saw in 1x4.)

I don’t think is entirely true. I think Louis blames himself for minor things or stuff he knows he didn’t do. But not about the things that would make his worldview take a 180-degree turn. Louis’ One Thing, Only Thing, has been Claudia’s death. As we saw in 1973, he cannot live with the memory of what happened to Claudia. In episode 5, when they start to talk about the events that directly lead to the trial, Daniel calls Louis out for using language that distances him from the narration, because it’s a difficult memory and one he’s never actually had himself recount, ever.  Raglan said 3 or 4 other journalists had tried to get the full story out of him and ended up dead or undead. Even in 1973 we see Louis and Armand use ‘Her’ instead of Claudia’s name when talking about Paris. In Season 1’s finale, we see him remember that it’s not Claudia who stopped them from burning Lestat; he was the one who used violence to stop her from finishing the act. Armand tells Daniel that he’d be ashamed of calling Louis a liar for his faulty memories after learning the full extent of the repercussions for not burning Lestat. I say this also applies to Louis. He is ashamed/cannot live with the fact that what he failed to do in NOLA is what led to the events in Paris (I’m speaking purely about the character’s mindset. I don’t think burning Lestat would’ve changed anything; it might have made things worse).  Cognitive dissonance again, and this time he resolved it by blaming Claudia. He’s believed the kinder version of events because he can’t face the fact that his refusal to burn Lestat is the reason why he could come to Paris and testify in the trial that ends up killing his daughter. To know himself as the man who picked Lestat and ended up condemning Claudia? That would send him to the sun 10 times over. And it’s easy to blame Armand for this again, say that he messed with the memory of Lestat’s killing and that’s why Louis blamed Claudia for the failure to burn him (which okay, if it kept Louis from the sun, is almost a sympathetic and loving edit, as messed up as that is lmao). But, Louis has read the diaries and knows Claudia hated him for 5 years while they were going through Europe. Daniel also mentions this in Season 1 iirc. So it’s not like Louis doesn’t know it wasn’t all roses between them after leaving NOLA.

Agreed.

Revisiting the Trial

2: Why would he leave his involvement with planning the trial in there? If he can basically snap a finger and rewire a memory forever (or drone on and on about a version of events until the victim fully believes him), he could remove himself from knowing about the planning altogether. If he can even make his victim hallucinate something (like Sam being next to him during the trial), he could’ve made Louis hallucinate him next to them on the stage during the trial. Why doesn’t he? Why leave the memory of his culpability in there despite knowing it’s the one thing Louis wouldn’t forgive Lestat for, let alone him?

EXCELLENT questions. 😂🤣

AMC's Trial changes very important bits from the book, that bring all of Armand's actions into question, and make him look either sinister AF (malicious!), or incompetent AF (in love!), or both (nuance™???). IMO he just grossly underestimated Daniel's ability to pick his lies apart (more on that below)--and for some strange reason, he never went after Sam (or got Louis to kill the last person involved in Claudia's murder, which is ALSO wildly OOC for Louis--unless he's been brainwashed with that "time heals all wounds" BS), to make sure Sam kept his mouth shut, let alone ran blabbing to the Talamasca. I've seen some fan theories that Sam was an agent for the Talamasca the whole time, which is WIIIIILD~! I can't WAIT for S3.

Louis prefers to believe a version of events that paint him in a kinder light, and so he wouldn’t willingly upset his worldview by reading an account that challenged it (“I knew who I was without those pieces.”) I don’t know whether he does this deliberately or by not fighting against Armand’s (supposed) control of the archives. I say deliberately because, once he gets the memory of Lestat’s non-burning right, he needs very little prodding to remember what happened next..... ....it’s Louis who decides what memories he carries and which ones he forgets or edits to maintain his self-perception. He doesn’t do this maliciously. I think everyone believes they’re better than they actually are. Not many people are willing to look in the mirror and truly see themselves, flaws and all. Louis “I didn’t put those there - You sure about that” de Pointe du Lac has gone through life refusing to look in the mirror. What likely happens is similar to what happened with Claudia’s turning: he made the story gentler for a child’s mind, like how mothers do with their kids’ birth stories, and likely retold it to her enough times that it became the full truth to him too. 

Louis' lost pieces come from A LOT of different places; and his triggers don't ALL react to the same stimuli or amount of prodding:

I think THE BULK of Lou's lost pieces are cuz of his own repressed memories & coping mechanisms from decades of trauma & PTSD & grief. He just doesn't WANT to remember bad things in his life ("I want to die!"), so he mindwipes himself; cuz suicidal tendencies & mental illness BOTH run in his family. (Dan has to GRILL Louis in 1x7 "was it raining; what murder? You don't need a memoir, you need 100 sessions of EMDR!"). Ofc by 10 sessions (2x8), we learn the truth about "Banishment," which changes the trajectory of the whole interview (Louis goes from toasting Armand across the table; to setting Dan's laptop on fire & running to NOLA)--

--because other lost pieces are predicated on The Seismic Lie that said "Lestat wanted US dead," (ie: Banishment); which have THOROUGHLY confused Louis wrt Les' motives, going alllll the way back to NOLA--"And then something real. This is Lestat." He's unsure if Les EVER loved him, or if Les EVER felt anything real for Lou beyond having "all the emotional acuity of A MONSTER~!" (a la ranting in 1973; a la book!IWTV)

And some are memories/lies Louis fabricates for himself, cuz he KNOWS Loustat shared real love (a la Dreamstat--did Les REALLY have Lou's initials monogrammed, or is that something Lou WISHES Les did for him?). Which makes the Banishment lie the deepest betrayal, cuz he's been operating for the past 77 years thinking Les hated his guts. He KNOWS that can't be true though, which is why he's so determined to get this 2nd interview right in 2022, where the 1st one in 1973 went wrong; "the more nuanced portrait."

Some are cuz of faulty memories & GAPS in his knowledge--during the Trial he was in & out of conscious cuz the coven kicked his head in & knocked him out cold in the Wet Room and he had a bleeding head wound the whole time he was on stage; and he was mind fogged so bad he was hemorrhaging from one eye; and had all these different versions of events thrown at him that had him confused even in Dubai 77 years later.

And ofc others are cuz he's been mindwiped ON; some of his memories are tampered with, and we'll NEVER know the full extent of what Armand did & didn't remove/replace; "I had a hunch."

LDPDL is the dictionary definition of Mentally Unwell, ("If I had been an actual journalist and, you know, not fried on coke and ludes, I would have realized what a dangerously unstable psyche I was with").

So I wouldn't say Lou needed "very little prodding"--he needs the entirety of S1 to even START the process of properly unlocking all of these memories, once Daniel realizes that the ravages of TIME aren't the problem with Louis' odyssey of recollection ("I never owned a Buick; you don't need a memoir!"). There's a bunch of other internal & external factors affecting Louis' memory, and it all goes back to the seeds planted when Dan said in 1x1: "I do my best work 1 on 1," without "Rashid's" constant interference.

The memories come flooding back, including and especially the more correct version of NOLA events that Lestat showed him during the trial re: Claudia’s turning, the fight, etc. If Armand had maliciously edited these memories, then he’d stop Louis from recovering them (kill Daniel and make Louis forget he even thought of doing an interview). But he doesn’t. He’s right there as these memories come back and, aside from suggesting Louis stops during emotionally charged moments, doesn’t prevent the remembering, despite this making it more likely that the extent of his betrayal would be uncovered. Why?

Both revisits were intended to show Louis in a bad light & condemn him to DEATH.

The 1x4 revisit was supposed to implicate Louis in breaking the Great Law against turning children. Neither Louis not Claudia could corroborate these events, and Louis gave up and just accepted it, "you should go with Lestat's version."

The 1x5 revisit was supposed to push Santiago's narrative of "mutual" abuse--"what's as bite between paramours; remember that we are monsters~!" and diffuse the brutality of Lestat's actions by minimizing Louis' pain "it was a hard fall, nothing more!" Claudia wanted Lestat dead after his actions in Ep5 proved to her that Les was no better than Bruce.

"I refuse the idea that Armand is some passive “I couldn’t prevent it” character. If he’s been editing Louis’ memories at will, then he’s a very actively malicious creature (even if he doesn’t think so). Moreover, the renewed memories paint Lestat in a much kinder picture, which doesn’t serve Armand de Possessive. "

The Trial was deliberately designed to prove that Claudia & Louis had NO right or reason to kill Lestat, and that NOTHING Lestat did warranted him being killed by his fledglings ("The father, duped by his ungrateful and diabolical children"). The Trial was meant to end with Claudia AND Louis DEAD. The malicious edits to the revisits are embedded in the script itself, with all the deflecting Santiago does to keep the narrative on track that Lestat is NOT the one on Trial (LESTAT: "I broke the Second Law. When you sentence them for their crimes, you sentence me too." SANTIAGO: "Ha! But you were manipulated into it...teased until you toppled!").

Armand doesn't HAVE to hide the Trial events from DanLou, cuz the Trial still ended with the seismic lie about "Banishment." By painting Lestat as the ultimate betrayer, Armand expertly diffused any & all forgiveness Louis could give Lestat; painted HIMSELF as the ultimate hero. Like, YES, Armand took care of Louis, and allowed him to stick to his vegan diet, and was never physically abusive (beyond NOT putting Louis in his coffin for hours (days?) on end in 2x5 so he could sleep & heal). But the decades of psychological manipulation are Armand's misstep, when he had SO many chances to come clean & never did--what hides in the dark comes out in the light! Louis tagged Daniel in for the 2nd interview & Dan came in clutch ("it's his job" "it's his drug" "I know. It's my job. I'm built this way!"), cuz Louis knew in his SPIRIT that something wasn't right about Armand; Jacob's talked about this several times.

What makes Armand de Possessive "more likely that the extent of his betrayal would be uncovered" is NOT the Trial proceedings being recounted to DanLou & Armand letting it happen (a la Lesmand in 2x3). It's Daniel's snooping with RAGLAN. If Dan hadn't gotten Sam's script from Raglan at the last minute, that interview would've ended with Loumand STILL together & Louis STILL lost in the sauce for another 77 years. 😬

Dan would've died from Parkinson's Disease, and NO ONE would be able to get close enough again to help Louis--god, when I think about how things could've turned out for Louis I get chills. Which is why I keep comparing IWTV to Get Out--the HORROR of psychological abuse & trauma effs me up way more than physical abuse--physical wounds heal, but mental damage can last forever; esp. when you're rewriting entire histories.

Cuz 100%, Armand should've killed Daniel the second he threw the real script at Louis. 😭🤦 Armand underestimated how much Lou would side with "insignificant" Dan over him ("She was a destitute little girl, destined to live an inconsequential little life!"); and Armand overestimated his ability to KEEP Lou & keep him mind-controlled.

I suspect that he was actively TRYING to mindwipe Louis when they ran into the living room, and that Louis was being mind-fogged offscreen.

"One night, 70 years ago. You are over this, Louis! The pain of it has left you. Don't let an insignificant detail, delivered from am insignificant mortal… You have forgiven me for what part I played in her death! And time has opened back up to us and we are once again teachers of one another. Louis, everything that gives you happiness gives me--Louis!"

But we've seen in 2x7 that even a BARRAGE of mind fogging CAN be shaken off if a vamp tries hard enough--Claudia did it several times, and even Louis managed to do it, even though it made his left eye start hemorrhaging.

So yeah, as to why Armand didn't rip Dan's head off, IDK. 🤷🤷 I think the DM fans might be onto something, that even then Armand was "hedging his bets" and kept Dan alive as a contingency plan to make his own fledgling if Louis left him. Which IS book!Armand's pattern of behavior.

Armand’s hold over Louis isn’t because of some insidious memory edit, it’s the ‘prison of empathy’. He doesn’t challenge Louis’ version of events, mostly because it puts his position as companion at risk. And Louis stays in this prison of empathy even as it suffocates him because he doesn’t want to face memory, the monster.

AGREED. Armand's "maliciousness" isn't cuz he HATES Louis & wants him dead (a la Santiago); it's cuz he's fatalistic to a fault and has twisted ideas about the world AND about love-as-service. He selfishly thinks he's doing Louis a favor/kindness/mercy by having his mind stay as scrambled as eggs, cuz Armand is thoroughly unequipped to handle ANYONE'S mental illness--not Louis, and as we'll likely see in S3, definitely not Nicky's. 💀 Lestat's fledglings keep ending up either suicidal or dead under Armand's watch ("Does he want to lick my boots or chop my hands off? Is it the gremlin or the good nurse tonight?" ).

Even Armand torturing Nicky & chopping his hands off was what Armand thought was an act of kindness/mercy, when he thought Nicky's obsessive violin playing was unhealthy. But violence isn't the answer. 😭�� He does the wrong things for the right reasons; the road to hell is paved with good intentions, as I've constantly said about book!Armand.

But AMC's twisted that by having Armand actively trying to have Louis killed & lying about it, which takes the wind out of the sails.

TL;DR: My problem with blaming Armand for everything/most things Louis remembers wrong is that 1. It removes Louis’ agency and flattens his personality, and 2. Turns Armand into this Big Bad who plans and executes shit meticulously but somehow doesn’t do anything to stop people who’re 1000X weaker than him from unraveling these plans. I think most of these problems are because the show fucked with Louis’ and Armand’s characters in favour of Lestat’s, but that’s a story for another day.

So IMO, defending Louis' agency & autonomy WITHOUT addressing the roles played by Armand (and even moreso Lestat) in ABUSING Louis' agency/autonomy misses the point wrt this story's overall point about the abuse of power.

Who is ARMAND to determine the trajectory of Louis' life? He was all up in Daniel's face, "Why did I owe YOU my shame? Why did I owe YOU my one act of cowardice? The series of abhorrent consequences that followed?" Well, why does LOUIS owe ARMAND his life or sanity?

Cuz Armand's brand of empathy IS a prison--Louis built it, yes (as I said: the BULK of Louis' lost pieces is him coping with trauma & grief); but Armand holds the keys. Armand equates companionship to covenship, as if there has to be a master & a slave--same way Lestat did. (Only Claudeleine saw e/o as EQUALS.) And Louis' been beat down all his life that he comes to just accept when certain roles present themselves, even when they make him miserable--esp. when they're twisted to use his strengths & weaknesses against him.

Louis can stay in his mind palace of delusion all he wants--it's HIS life, and it should be HIS choice, HIS agency & HIS autonomy if he kills himself or starves himself or wtvr.

Armand treated Lou like a possession the same way Les did ("I GAVE you to Armand"), and not like his own person; it's ableist AF.

Only once Daniel exposed everything was Louis FINALLY able to "LEARN to live honestly." Lou can't learn or grow or KNOW himself, if Armand's ENABLING his worst habits, and SUPPRESSING Louis' identity, by REFUSING to "allow me my odyssey [of recollection]," just cuz YOU'RE too scared to be alone if I kill myself or leave you. Armand POUNCED at the opportunity to wipe Louis' memories, and LEAPT at the chance to remove extra pages from Claudia's diaries, taking undue ADVANTAGE of the trust Louis had in him.

Also, by lying about Banishment, he simultaneously ROBBED Loustat of the chance to grieve for their daughter properly. 77 years have been stolen & wasted on helping Louis AVOID uncomfortable truths about himself, rather than facing everything honestly. It's a childishly immature act that is in line with 17yrs!Armand, so I get what AMC was tryna do, but I agree that it doesn't do AMC!Armand any favors, when we see this uber-powerful vamp CONCEDE power to people 1000x weaker than he is--

--at least not without adequately contextualizing those concessions in ways the audience can understand/accept; what with the convoluted chronology and muddy motivations blurring the lines between clever plot twists & cheap plot contrivances.

But like I said, IMO S2 wasn't interested in exonerating Armand or painting him in a good light. IWTV's been about the abuse of power, and the various ways that ALL vampires have wronged e/o, Louis & Lestat & Armand included.

But it's also about the mishandling of power--not realizing the ways that ALL of these vamps really COULD have prevented the bad ish that happens.

BUT also also, the ways that all these vamps are doomed by the narrative to some extent ("But the suit changes nothing!"). Innocent children end up dead. Abuse victims either get back with their abusers; or they start the cycles of abuse in other ways. Guilty parties (like Sam) get off scott free for no reason.

IMO, saying Armand & Lestat are abusers is not flattening Louis' personality--it's the avoidance of Armand & Lestat's culpability and the overt insistence by Louis-antis/Lestans/Armstans that because Louis DOES make bad decisions that everything IS his fault that flattens Louis as a character. Louis can be a naive effing idiot AND his husbands can abuse him--both things can be true--and ARE. The denial of which is what I see as Santiagoisms, that strip away all context behind WHY Louis makes the decisions he makes; by deflecting/diffusing/minimizing the damage caused by the agents, factors & forces at play that move & direct & shape him in very specific ways:

from his homophobic godawful mother making Lou think he "failed my brother" (THE domino effect that set this whole story into motion in the first place)

to the white racists "It was the call and response of my entire life. I had let them talk to me like that so long, I stopped hearing it. 'Yes, sir. Of course, sir.' Subject, verb, agreement, 'sir.' Smile, nod, 'yes, sir.' They all came from the same organ inside me, an organ unknown to science at the time. Because what scientist would look for an organ found only in BLACK MEN who use their weakness to rise?"

to French White Lestat's constant God Complex rhetoric ("you need to show restraint, fledgling!")

to the obligations Lou felt towards Claudia conflicting with his love of Lestat despite all the heinousness Les had done to BOTH of them ("You want to kill him too, and you will enjoy doing it!")

to Santiago ("I handled folks like Santiago both my lives. I don't need you flying in like vampire papa.")

to Armand ("You think I need to be coddled, hyped up, lied to?")

to Daniel disrespecting Louis at every turn, up until 2x6 ("I could be your Lestat, your Claudia, but better! I mean, I got a little bit of both of them in me, plus a few things they don't.")

And it's using one's weakness to rise that I love most about Louis, cuz I've been saying since Day One that Louis has POWER IN SUBMISSION; playing INTO people constantly underestimating him; ESPECIALLY Lestat & Armand, by NOT seeming like a threat. It's not that he's victim = weak = helpless damsel = blameless = victim, it's that he's weaker → vulnerable → victim → unreliable narrator → weaker. And the TRIUMPH of Louis' story arc completing in S2 (that CELEBRATES the fact that he is NOT a flat & hollow shell that's had his whole identity scooped out of him by BOTH his p.o.s. husbands) is that he's FINALLY able to break the cycle & Get Out of this Sunken Place!

He shoves Armand into a effing wall & throws the script at his effing face & reconciles with Lestat & declares he's "companion enough FOR MYSELF" & redecorates the whole penthouse & puts Paul AND Claudia on his wall in places of HONOR--to HONOR their memory, and all that that implies; cuz Memory is NOT the monster--ABUSE & DENIAL is. The bloodstains are still on her dress; he didn't get it cleaned off--he didn't remove the rocks from his feet for 70+ years. He's WANTED to fully remember the good AND the bad this entire time, and Armand ("you're lingering, Rashid!") never let him. He tells Armand "you need to be GONE," so Louis can FINALLY start healing & relearning who TF he is bless and amen I LOVE this for him. 😤👏❤️

IWTV S2 Tentative Timeline (Pt2c) - Unreliable Narrators, Armand & the Trial

Thanks for the response to Pt2b, @usuallydeepalpaca-blog! I really want people to talk to me about the IWTV timelines, cuz this show is SO confusing! 😩😭

"I think if you create the timeline with info the show doesn't provide, i.e. Armand was involved from the start, then you're bound to get it wrong."

Absolutely. I fully expect that I got some stuff wrong, which is why I said it's a TENTATIVE Timeline.

I've in no way said it's THEE CORRECT™ timeline, cuz chile IDKWTF is going on. 😅 I openly say what confuses me, questions I have, and how I come to the conclusions that I draw. I'm being as transparent as possible to let y'all know that I DON'T know. 🤷 The show doesn't provide EVERYthing, so I'm just piecing things together in a way that makes an iota of sense to me, following the logic of what the show HAS provided. The only solid details we have are diehard IRL dates, that gave us a time range when certain events can/can't happen. AFAIK I'm working with the same set of details everyone else has, until AMC gives us more info in S3+. And unfortunately, the 2 biggest unknown variables are Lestat & Armand, and to what extent they were/weren't involved in the Trial that got Claudia killed & Louis buried alive.

"saying Armand messed with Louis' memories re: the trial is also something not supported by the show."

The show obvs. wants us to assume that Armand made Louis hallucinate Sam guarding him in the theatre box (thus painting Armand as a "captive" along with Louis & Claudeleine).

Even if Armand didn't use the Mind Gift on Louis, he lied at least twice:

lies by omission: letting Louis think a hallucination of Sam was real

lies to Louis' (& Daniel's) face: going along with the premise that he was Sam's "captive" & Armand sat there the whole time thinking of a way to rescue Louis

And we KNOW this is a lie, cuz Daniel calls it out explicitly, asking how Sam can be "in two places at once," allegedly "guarding" Armand, but ALSO helping to torture Louis in the Wet Room.

Armand never denied or contradicted Louis saying Sam was in either place. Maybe Louis really did misremember Sam being in the wet room--the ONLY one who can corroborate all this is SAM--whom Armand ALSO lies on, throwing Sam, Daniel & the Talamasca all under the bus by saying the script with his handwriting all over it was forged! No honor amongst thieves I guess! 🤣

(Eff Lestat's POV in S3--when is SAM gonna give HIS POV of the Trial?!)

So I'm operating on patterns of behavior, and the logic that if he's deliberately lying about one thing (a VERY BIG THING, actually), then what else is he lying about? How are you "atoning" for anything, when you're just heaping lies on top of gaslighting on top of manipulation?

Armand has used Louis' obvious confusion to his advantage, just going along with whatever will make him look better & more sympathetic. Which ofc, is the exact same thing he does with the "Banishment" lie. "They gave me a choice...I could not prevent it" is the truth and a lie all rolled into one incredibly manipulative cocktail, cuz if it was just a simple matter of Armand selling Claudia out to save Louis, that would be one thing--but Armand KNEW the script planned LOUIS' death the whole time. The "seismic lie" about "Banishment" effs up Armand's whole defense.

Cuz Sam already wrote the script in April 1949 (and I said this is confusing, cuz if it's the WHOLE script, then this implies Lestat's half was written by then, too, and NOT in September after the Eiffel Tower crime--which means he was ALREADY in Paris & working with the coven; inc. Armand (which would also explain WHY Armand took Louis to the library so much--perhaps anticipating that Loustat would feel e/o's presence if Louis was around the theatre too much? But that doesn't explain Claudia)--omfg I'm confused). Wtvr--we KNOW that at some point b/t April & September 1949, Armand made his edits & directed the entire production--from Santiago to Lestat to Tuan's projections--ALL of it. And we know Tuan's projections started being made in June/July 1949.

Armand KNEW Daniel had been given the OLD script from the archives, WITHOUT Armand's edits & directions, and LET Daniel AND Louis think that was the truth--

--same way he went behind Louis' back and removed extra pages from Claudia's diaries that would reveal MORE of his shenanigans--

--and the same way he lied about Nicki (& Gabrielle) in 2x3.

The show ALSO provides us with quotes like this:

And this:

And this:

Which in retrospect make Armand look even more insidious, esp. when we wonder to what extend Louis' been "driven to form new conclusions about myself" when he doesn't even KNOW himself; let alone WHAT memories he has that are real or false.

It's so effed up, and it makes me side-eye all the insistence that LOUIS is the one mostly at fault, when he's got literal double-hypnosis Brain Scramblies from WWDITS. 😭🤦

Ofc there are unknown-unknowns when dealing with unreliable narration. But there are also known-unknowns, too, that also make Armand sus.

Sure, Loumand was away at the library in July (IF that memory's even real, Mr. "I Had A Hunch")--but how on earth would Armand have NOT known that the coven was working on the Trial right under his nose for MONTHS prior & after July--Luchenbaum sewing new barrister costumes & wigs; Tuan painting projections & testing new lens/film tech; and Sam writing a new script (when we already KNOW Sam can't multitask when his "head's in a hat")?

July is only ONE month in over HALF A YEAR of Trial prep. Louis was never around the coven to know what was going on--but ARMAND was; it's where HE lives.

Whose POV was it that showed the whole coven passing around Claudia's diaries? Whose POV was it that revealed Santiago being called Maitre in every scene that ARMAND was also in?

Armand was in the park with Tuan when Tuan called Santiago Maitre; and Armand was in the theatre with Sam when Sam called Santiago Maitre--so this is clearly either Armand's POV telling on himself; or it's AMC screwing with us.

It's TRUE that Turning Madeleine was the straw that broke the camel's back, as Armand was like I can't keep THAT a secret from the coven, too (and ofc he couldn't--they're VAMPIRES; they'd FEEL a new vamp in their territory). But Loumand's problems PREDATE Madeleine; the same way Loustat's problems predate Claudia. I blame Les for not dealing with Lou's BS, just like I blame Armand, cuz THEY are the Coven Masters, NOT Lou--esp. cuz Armand had 14 other vamps in his coven he SHOULD be prioritizing over Lou. The same way Loustat's guilty of being bad fathers (which they BOTH admitted to), Armand's guilty of being a bad coven leader (which HE admitted to).

IMO, all this makes any & all discussion about Armand's trustworthiness difficult, when his "seismic lie" throws EVERYTHING else he's done into question. Esp. since the show ALSO provides us with the FACT that Armand knew from DAY ONE that Claudia lied about "Bruce"/Lestat; and that Louis was a terrible liar & terrible with the Mind Gift; and that he'd ALREADY planned on killing Louis in 2x3! Armand knew from the get-go that he couldn't do EFF ALL to keep Louis & Claudia out of danger, and TOLD Louis so.

"It also ignores that Louis softens his participation in certain things because he can't live with the guilt of his full participation, e.g. Claudia's turning, which he continued to lie to Claudia about even during the trial and only accepted the extent of his involvement in Dubai"

The Trial Timeline's purpose is to pinpoint when the preparations took place, NOT to hash out how bad of a father Louis was to Claudia. 🤨

And it certainly isn't meant to provide a timeline for the events in S1 wrt Claudia's Turning--we already know the dates for all of that, that she was made in 1917. I focus on the 1940s in S2, and the European dates, NOT the NOLA dates. LOUIS did not participate in the Trial's preparations, ARMAND & LESTAT did. My timeline has ZERO bearings on Louis' guilt for not warning her, etc.

But on the subject of Louis & Claudia, I've cussed Louis out for not telling Claudia about Armand b4 (x x), I don't ignore it at all. I fully understand & even agree with Armand being fed up with dealing with Louis' BS. But HE CHOSE not to kill Louis when he had the chance, and it's obvs that whatever arrangement they made when they had sex in 2x3/2x4 allowed Louis to TRUST that Armand would keep "the secret" & keep Louis & Claudia SAFE from the coven. (Which is a BOGUS claim for him to make, when Santiago'd ALREADY peeped that they were lying about Lestat & being from NOLA, but wtvr). I've called Louis a naive idiot 1000x for overestimating Armand, putting his life in Armand's incapable hands--just like he would AGAIN by trusting him about "Banishment;" and AGAIN by asking Armand to wipe his memories in SanFran (and LIE by omission about Les saying "I love you, Louis").

"Louis remembers the trial, he remembers what was said and what Lestat showed him."

HOW can Lestat have showed Louis ANY memories during the Trial (inc. the Ep4 revisit), when Makers/Fledglings CANNOT read each other's minds???????

I love this show so much, but I effing hate this show--they don't even give us an answer, Daniel just moves right past it, like wtf are we supposed to do with that, AMC? There's plot threads, vs plot HOLES. Louis' TOO unreliable, Armand's a shysty liar, white savior Lestat to the rescue~~~! "BANishMEnT~!" As if Lestat's any less impartial?

Esp. when at least SOME parts of the Ep4 Revisit were OBVIOUSLY Scripted lines written by the coven to implicate Louis in breaking the Great Laws that Lestat allegedly taught him AND Claudia to follow?

Like, Louis HATES himself, and is quick to blame himself for things beyond his control (a la Paul, a la the Ordinances; "Can we be forgiven if we do not forgive others ourselves?"); so if one is determined to see him bad faith then of course one can easily pounce on him Florence DPDL style / Santiago style, and blame him.

(Esp. since in 1x4 we literally SEE Louis admit to begging & emotionally baby-trapping Lestat into turning Claudia--the revisit in 2x7 is more (melo)dramatic & extended, sure, but it does NOT contradict Louis' account in S1. So I get REAL confused when people say he lied about 1x4 or wtvr.)

Louis invalidates his perspective cuz he KNOWS he's an unreliable narrator--he spends 2x1 sobbing about wanting to remember & "get every detail right"--and ARMAND is there constantly tryna STOP the interview; having directly contributed to his already deteriorated (& inherited?) mental illness, by bending Lou's trauma into "a Lestat shaped-effigy" with all that "I will not harm you" bullcrap.

TL;DR: We won't know for sure what the Trial timeline actually looks like, unless S3+ revisits it with more context.

But as things stand at the end of S2, NO, I don't trust Armand as far as I can throw him, cuz there are waaaay too many instances where he's deliberately lied & obfuscated & omitted in ways to deliberately confuse the narrative surrounding the Trial--that go beyond Louis' already confirmed trauma, PTSD, mental illness, repressed/faulty memory, and guilty conscious.

If y'all want a timeline of S1 events, those have already been made by other people in the fandom (this one is goated).

I wanted to know what was going on in S2; so I used every single date and IRL reference possible, and put them in chronological order in a way that makes sense based on how I TENTATIVELY understand things currently; NOT how AMC has confirmed yet--if they ever will.

If anyone has more relevant in-show references & IRL sources we can cite, to help make better sense of S2 than I did, let us all know!

[wolfsbanesparks]

Fanfic idea!

So I wanted to share an idea i had for a story that just sorta appeared in my brain fully formed. It will be a while before I have time to write it out, but I wanted to share it with y'all now while it's fresh in my mind.

This was inspired by @puppetwoman17 's story "Batson Family Soap Opera" and conversations I've had with @cerealboxlore as well as some other posts I've seen floating around tumblr but can't find right now.

Title: Signed in Blood

Premise: Ebenezer Batson makes a deal with Lady Blaze to bring his son Sinclair back to life, but there's a catch: after a year and a day either Sinclair must return to the land of the dead or a blood relative must take his place.

When the time comes for Blaze to collect on her contract, the Justice League is recruited to protect the Batsons from the hellhounds and demons she sends after them.

Full details under the cut because this will get long. Like the entire fic is there in bullet point form

Okay bullet points for all the plot beats i know (basically an outline of the story)

We open on Lady Blaze tracking down Ebenezer and offering to grant his greatest wish: bringing his son back to life

Ebenezer jumps at the chance and signs the contract with his blood, even knowing the caveat that someone must die in one year. A further stipulation in the contract is that the soul of whoever dies to fulfill the contract will belong to her

Ebenezer loves his son and won't let him die again, but he's still a selfish bastard, so he doesn't plan on dying either

He justifies it to himself with the thought that Sinclair is smarter, more charismatic, and had a bright future whereas Billy is a troubled runaway who will probably become a petty crook etc.

There is only one other blood relative he knows is still alive: Billy

(Billy is of course trans in this but I'll stick to the name and pronouns we know he uses rather than Ebenezer's misgendering and deadnaming)

Sinclair does not know he's dead: Blaze wiped his memory of the accident and used magic to provide false memories to account for the time he was dead

Ebenezer tracks down Billy to take back custody of him so he'll be able to hand him over to Blaze (he knows that if billy dies and he tells people Billy ran away they'll believe it because of his history thus getting away scott free)

Billy is conflicted about being in Ebenezer's custody again, especially with a cousin he doesn't remember (he died before Billy's parents did) who seems a bit off (because he was resurrected with demonic magic)

Sinclair jumps straight into making a name for himself by running for political office (he has ambitions and plans for his future and zero idea what his father did)

While campaigning for office, exactly a year and a day since he was resurrected, Sinclair attends a major political conference

The conference is attacked by hellhounds sent by blaze to remind Ebenezer of their contract. But it causes a huge scene and the Justice League, including Captain Marvel, gets involved to help protect the political leaders of the conference

But they soon realize the main target is Sinclair so they take him and Ebenezer back to their home and offer their protection while they figure out what's going on

Ebenezer is sweating because he has no idea where Billy is so he can't offer him up like he planned (because Billy is CM at the moment) but he figures the JL can keep him and Sinclair alive

Cap is unusually rude and abrasive. He's distant and avoids certain sections of the house. The JL is worried because he never acts like this and they don't know what happened or why he doesn't seem to like the batsons

As they try to figure out why the Batsons are being targeted, a second attack happens at a charity event where the Bromfields had been in attendance (the demons targeting Mary)

The JL brings the Bromfields and the Batsons together to try to find a link. And after Batman runs a DNA test he finds out that Mary is related to them.

(Billy recognized her the moment he saw her locket and is desperately trying to hold himself back from pulling her into a hug and whisking her away from their uncle)

Ebenezer is gobsmacked that his niece is alive, Mary is ecstatic to learn more about her birth family, and the Bromfields are worried about what this all means.

The story of CC and Marilyn comes out and Sinclair tells the JL about Billy and how he's missing and they need to find him before the demons do

Demons attack the house, gunning for Cap as well which leads to some investigation and the theory that Cap is CC with memory loss which he adamantly denies

(Both Billy and Ebenezer are shaken by just how many "dead" Batsons are in the room)

Blaze appears and tells them all that due to her contract they cannot deny her: she is owed the life and soul of one of the Batsons by midnight. A life for a life.

Everyone is freaking out because what contract? And who is she?

But Billy knows who she is and it takes him no time at all to put the pieces together. He confronts Ebenezer and when he denies it, he convinces wonder woman to use the lasso of truth on him

Ebenezer is forced to tell them he made a deal and why: he wanted his son back.

But Sinclair still has no idea he died so he doesn't understand: he would have come home if his dad needed him so bad.

But Billy remembers an incident from when he was a kid living with Ebenezer: playing in the backyard, digging a hole as little kids do and finding a ring engraved with the name Sinclair Batson (a high school class ring that Sinclair always wears, one that he's wearing right now)

His uncle had been furious and punished Billy for it, but later while drunk he sobbed about how his perfect son was gone, how he'd never see him again.

Billy had (rightly) assumed he was dead but didn't ask any questions about him until he was in Ebenezer's custody again, then he assumed he was just young and misunderstood the situation (after all he'd lost so many people at that age. Lots of people were just gone without explanation)

But now he realizes the truth: Sinclair was brought back from the dead and the strange offputting aura was blazes magic

Ebenezer is forced to tell them what happened: how Sinclair died.

It was an accident. The two of them had been arguing about Sinclair going away for college among other things and things got heated. Sinclair tried to sneak out after the argument, climbing out of his window. Ebenezer caught him and shouted for him to get back inside. The shout startled Sinclair and he fell off the roof and broke his neck

Ebenezer couldn't bring himself to call the police, he was terrified they'd arrest him because the neighbors heard them arguing and Sinclair had bruises on his arm from where Ebenezer had grabbed him

So he buried his son in that backyard, telling everyone who asked that Sinclair was away for college and building up the lie so no one suspected the truth. (Billy found Sinclair's ring because he was playing on top of his unmarked grave)

Billy pushes and Ebenezer admits that he'd been planning on giving Billy up in exchange for Sinclair (airing out his justifications)

Everyone is horrified, especially Sinclair. (Not Billy though, this aligned perfectly with the Ebenezer he knew)

There's a lot of argument about what to do: most are in favor of handing Ebenezer over to Blaze but Sinclair is admant that he was supposed to be dead so it should be him she took.

But Billy knows something no one else knows about this deal, not even Ebenezer: Blaze had always intended to reap Billy's soul as payment

She knew there was no love between Billy and Ebenezer but she also knew that Billy would never let anyone (even someone he hates as much as his uncle) become her slave via owning their soul

But if Billy's soul belonged to her, so would his powers and his connection to Shazam and the Rock of Eternity. The contract would back him into a corner and his pure heart would give her the opening she needed.

So Billy pulls Sinclair and Mary aside. Mary's clinging to Sinclair because even though she just found him she doesn't want to lose him.

The three of them hatch a plan

When Blaze arrives and demands her payment Cap steps forward and offers himself (which makes everyone confused since he's been denying being CC all night)

Blaze is ecstatic because she can taste victory

Sinclair steps up and demands to know how they can trust her not to come after them again once she has cap's soul.

After a bit of back and forth, she agrees to add an addendum to the contract Ebenezer signed ensuring that she would never harm any of the Batsons after collecting what she is owed.

All batsons sign the contract in blood

Last is Billy who she tells to power down so she can collect his soul without divine interference

Billy transforms and literally everyone except Blaze is blindsided by the fact that Cap is Billy who has been missing since before this mess began

Blaze shoves her hand into Billy’s chest to rip out his soul and claim her birthright

But before he dies he gives Mary, who is shell shocked and horrified and quickly realizing that's her twin, a nod

As he falls to the ground she remembers the plan: she shouts out "Shazam" and becomes Mary Marvel

You see the night before Billy officially chose her to become his successor as Champion (Sinclair is too closely tied to blazes magic so it would've been too risky to give him. Plus Mary was always destined for the powers of Shazam but had been hidden from him by black Adam's magic)

Just as Blaze was denied her father's power and the Rock of Eternity because he chose Billy as his champion, so she was denied when Billy transferred his powers to mary

She is furious and attacks mary

But upon landing the first hit, Billy is brought back because she hurt a batson rendering the contract null and void

Together Billy and Mary send her back to hell

The epilogue features the Batsons several months later. Ebenezer is in prison for attempted murder (of both Billy and Sinclair) among other crimes. Sinclair still visits him because despite everything he loves his dad and owes him his second chance at life (it's definitely complicated) Sinclair is billys legal guardian and theyd sold the house where both Billy and Sinclair were abused moving into the same neighborhood as the Bromfields so the twins can be together again. Captain Marvel and Mary are beloved heroes and they've officially endorsed Sinclair's campaign which meant he won in a landslide.

And they lived happily ever after

So thoughts?

I told you the idea was fully formed but I'd love to hear what y'all think!

[nichiperi]

happy birthday to meeee~ ヘ⁠(⁠￣⁠ω⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠)

[sga-owns-my-soul]

work may be boring

but at least i finally figured out the ending to a fic i've been stuck on for OVER SIX MONTHS

[chiarrara]

I KNOW Y'ALL ARE IN MOURNING OVER CHOSO AND THAT WAS VERY SAD I CRIED BUT I HAVE NOT BEEN THIS HYPE OVER A CHAPTER IN JJK FOR AGES I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER OH MY GOD THEY'RE GONNA KICK HIS ASS

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Everyone's talking about Wish right now.... The only thing I can say about WISH.......let's hope it's like a Frozen 1 type thing. Where the trailers were ABSOLUTE ASS but then the film turned out really good. TT0TT

I mean.....there is a difference between the two. While the west got weird trailers that didn't matter for Frozen (Olaf vs Sven carrot thing), JPN and other countries got trailers that actually showcased the plot and drama in an interesting way.... And Wish.....well...... Wish at least gives us a villain and a part of an argument.....and I can't see that argument leading anywhere.....great tbh. So maybe not the best comparisons but let's hope for the Frozen 1 vibe!

Anyway I'm not liking what I'm seeing so far, but I'm hoping its better than the ass disaster Frozen 2 and Ralph 2 were. ;w;

[crossbackpoke-check]

nosy anon again making a return because i think what my brain did was read that i helped find some kind of writing and then did not fully process what the writing was?? but upon rereading i am very intrigued if you ever get the urge to share i will be all eyes/ears/senses required to enjoy things!!

I GET TO DO WIP WEDNESDAYYYYYY!!! the writing exists mostly in the form of a tag (fantastic! 'verse) and also a thirty-two page doc of snippets and planning, so the sense you will be using most is imagination:

don't think i have ever actually formally written out anything about fantastic! 'verse but! the tl;dr of it is that it's a semi-college au: joel is still a hockey player for the lv phantoms, but morgan is a college student-athlete. it's incredibly relevant to the plot that joel falls in love with morgan in the check-out line of a wegman's, lies a little bit, and ends up going back to get his degree.

most of it is just good fun about college kids growing up, but i think there's a lot of parallels between making your way through a development system where traditional "success" isn't always guaranteed (ahl -> nhl, completion of higher education -> pursuit of a career) because that development system isn't always designed for you to "succeed" or have opportunities. heavy quotation marks around success because part of that struggle is learning what you want in life and how you define success. are your dreams achievable? are they still the same dreams you always used to have? it's infinite branching universes of would you still love me if i was a worm (ahl player forever) (a college dropout) (a college graduate) (older) (realizing the fallibility of your body) (uncertain of the future) (human).

silly little snippet:

[hannibalismos-jaaneman]

i read a hannigram fic last night where op decided it was an okay thing to mention vatsyayana and my brain chemistry is fucked now.

[tvrningout-a]

i wanna see my friends, but i also wanna write up lore :((

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

[aparticularbandit]

also finished the outline, and it does look like thirty-five chapters + prologue (already posted) + epilogue.

i'm in chapter thirty-three, so i have. 33-35 + epilogue left.

...and the five remnants chapters i haven't written yet, but i think i'm going to try and write those in one swoop probably next week? i have a general idea what those maintain, and i don't expect izuru to show up until maybe the second fic (i haven't decided yet because i want to see him in dr3 before i decide what to do with him).

so nine chapters total left to write.

chapters are usually 2-3k.

that's another 18-27k.

except that the first remnants chapter is relatively short in comparison with the other chapters and i expect the others to follow suit - so those should be between 1-2k. so that's 5-10k + 8-12k.

except again that the prologue was shorter, too, and i suspect the epilogue will follow that, too, so i'd put that one closer to 1-2k and not quite 3k.

which is 6-12k + 6-9k. so 12-21k. roughly.

right now i'm at a little over 67k, which means 79k at the lowest end (i'd round up for 80k) and 94k at the highest end (and i'd round up for 95k).

so this thing will likely end up anywhere from 80k-95k.

and there's a second fic.

i'm tired. XD

[witchywithwhiskey]

sweet as honeycrisp

pairing: sugar daddy!ari levinson x sugar baby!female reader

summary: your sugar daddy takes you on an autumn-themed date to the apple orchard, and what starts off as a fun and flirty day unfolds into a meaningful turning point in your relationship.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, piv sex, outdoor sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), finger sucking, biting, brief cockwarming, exhibitionism, light bdsm, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, very light degradation, lots of teasing, pet names (darling, honey), aftercare, happy ending, so much fluff

word count: 14.5k

a/n: whew i've been working on this for like two weeks now, and i'm so happy to finally be able to post it!!! i was struggling a bit with the emotional throughline of this fic, and i only decided on it very late in the editing game so if some things don't make sense, just ignore it!!! if you can believe it, i originally just wanted to write about a quickie in the apple orchard and it turned into this 🫣 anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!!!

“Kiss.”

The warm, playful voice of your sugar daddy, Ari Levinson, met your ears as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat of his Lexus, greeting you in the way he always did. When you closed the car door behind you, the sounds of the Manhattan street were silenced, leaving you in the relative quiet with Ari.

Eagerly, you twisted on the sumptuous seat of the expensive car to lean over the center console, brushing a teasing kiss to Ari’s scruffy cheek, your lips grazing the edge of his full beard. His skin was warm and inviting, and you lingered for a moment, breathing in the the familiar scent of Ari’s cologne, smelling of vetiver and leather. 

When you pulled back, Ari’s blue eyes were glittering with a hint of mischief that made your heart thump with excitement, a warmth blooming in your core despite the cool air of the car’s air conditioning brushing your legs. It was a warm September day, the last remnants of summer clinging in the air as if it protested giving up its seat to autumn. 

The thought crossed your mind that if any man looked like the embodiment of summer, it was Ari Levinson. His skin was golden with a perpetual tan, and his brown hair had sun-kissed blond highlights that shimmered in the daylight, though they were dimmed a bit in the shadow of his car. 

Still, as he grinned at you, showing off his pearly whites framed by his dark beard, you couldn’t help but feel like the summer sun had taken a liking to you and sat beside you. When he looked at you like that, with that smile and those blue eyes shining like the sun off the ocean waves, you wondered what it would be like to have his attention all the time—to be more than just the sugar baby he took on occasional dates when he wanted to have fun.

Pushing those bothersome romantic notions aside, you raked your eyes down Ari’s form, noticing that he’d dressed down for your date. He wore a soft denim, long-sleeved button-up over a simple white t-shirt and tailored slacks. Casual loafers and sunglasses perched on top of his head completed the look. Even in such a simple outfit, he looked good. 

“Show me.” 

His voice was a deep rumble that pulsed between your thighs, and you flicked your gaze back up to his face, finding heat in his expression, the same mischievousness in his eyes that’d been there since you got in the car. The corner of Ari’s mouth was curved in a smirk, and you felt another throb of warmth in your core.

Your lips curled at the edges, a wicked smile curving your mouth as the energy in the car crackled around you, spurring your heart to beat a little faster. You knew exactly what Ari wanted you to show him, and you knew it was naughty—but that was part of why you liked spending time with your sugar daddy. 

Ari was always urging you to be a little daring, to do something that made your heart race and your breath come a little faster. He didn’t push you, so much as guide you down the path to depravity, and you followed him willingly. You never felt more alive than when you were with Ari.

So while you smiled at him, you spread your legs on the leather seat of his Lexus, the short skirt of your dress falling between your parting thighs. Ari’s smirk deepened with satisfaction as he watched your movements with rapt attention. Your fingers toyed with the edge of your dress, the fabric having ridden up quite high on your thighs. 

But before you could reveal what was beneath your skirt, you looked away from Ari, and it crashed over you that you sat in a car in the middle of a busy Manhattan street surrounded by other people. There were folks driving in their cars just outside your window and others walking by on the sidewalk beside where Ari was parked. There were even people filling up the buildings that overlooked the street. They were everywhere around you.

“Darling, look at me,” Ari murmured, his tone entreating enough to call your attention back to him. 

You noticed his sparkling eyes had lost some of their mischief when you looked back at him. But the steadiness of his gaze had you relaxing when you hadn’t even realized you’d tensed up, and the corners of your mouth flickered in an uncertain smile.

“Do you trust me?” Ari asked simply. His face was open, no hint of pressure in his tone or voice. 

For a brief moment, you considered his question, then you nodded your head. You watched as warmth flooded into his gaze, and it made you feel a little more sure. 

“Lift your skirt for me, darling,” he implored, his eyes dropping to where your thighs were still spread, the flimsy fabric of your dress barely hiding your core. “Show daddy what you have under your pretty little skirt.”

You gathered every ounce of braveness in your body and pulled up the hem of your skirt. There, nestled between your spread thighs, was your bare pussy. The air in the car seemed to heat by a few degrees when you heard Ari suck in a sharp breath.

It had been Ari’s idea for you to go without panties on your date, and you’d agreed, the idea sending excited thrills through your body. Walking through the halls and the lobby of the Manhattan high-rise you called home, you’d felt like you had a secret that only Ari knew, and it gave you a delicious kind of satisfaction showing your sugar daddy how you’d gone without panties, your pussy fully exposed beneath your dress.

“You have such a pretty cunt, darling,” Ari groaned, his hand sliding up your thigh until the tips of his fingers teased the top of your slit. 

You bit back a gasp and squirmed in your seat, trying to hold your hips back from thrusting into his touch. 

“I never get tired of seeing this pussy, and how wet she gets for me.” 

His fingers spread your lower lips and he brushed ever so gently over the tip of your clit, making you twitch in your seat, your legs shaking with the effort it took not to close them on his hand and trap him against your heated core.

“And the way your thighs tremble for me,” Ari rumbled, pulling away from your quickly dampening slit to grope roughly at your plush softness, his grip possessive in a way your sugar daddy rarely was. 

“Ari.” His name was a breathy exhale, an undercurrent of admonishment in your tone as his touches stoked the blazing fire in your core, making you squirm even more on the seat. A sliver of worry wormed into your mind as you remembered the leather you sat on, which would surely stain if he kept touching you, and you gasped, “The seat.”

Ari only chuckled, the sound cavalier in a way that made butterflies take flight in your belly, but before you could chide him again, his hand was slipping back between your thighs. Ari dragged a finger from the bottom of your slit all the way to the top, flicking your clit and wringing a moan from your lips as your thighs trembled on the seat.

Then he was pulling his hand away, leaving you to drop your skirt to cover yourself, and popping his finger into his mouth. Your sugar daddy made a show of savoring the taste of you, and your head fell back against the headrest. You watched him suck your taste from his skin, your breaths heavy in your chest while Ari’s eyes sparkled with mischief. 

“Mm, sweet as apple pie,” he praised, making heat rush to your face while you shook your head and rolled your eyes—even as your chest warmed at the compliment. Ari was grinning shamelessly at you when he grabbed your face gently and pulled you gently across the car toward him. “C’mere, darling, see how sweet you taste,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you.

The musky flavor of your body made you moan into Ari’s mouth, your sugar daddy devouring every little noise you made while he kissed you thoroughly. You sank into him, reveling in the smooth glide of his lips and the possessive exploration of his tongue. Your fingers curled around the collar of his denim shirt and you clung to him, feeling the edge of something more in the way he kissed you. It left you breathless when you finally pulled away.

You fell back into your seat with a soft “oomph,” the breath rushing from your lungs when you looked into Ari’s eyes. His blue gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it, and there was something in depths of his eyes that you couldn’t quite place—affection or fondness maybe. 

A small, uncertain smile curled your lips, your heart thumping in your chest as you wondered if that’s how Ari looked at someone he truly cared about. Someone special to him, who had a more permanent place in his life than the sugar baby he called when he wanted to have some no-strings-attached fun. 

For the briefest of moments, you could pretend Ari was more than your sugar daddy, and you were more than his sugar baby. 

But then the moment ended, and Ari cleared his throat as he looked away, focusing on the wheel and gear shift of his car to put it in drive. A silent sigh of disappointment gusted from you, and you turned toward the passenger side window, intent on watching the city fly by once Ari eased into traffic.

To your surprise, Ari’s hand slipped into one of yours, his palm pressing against yours while he laced your fingers together. Your breath hitched with uncertainty even as the corners of your mouth flickered in a smile. It took you a moment to get used to the feeling of his hand in yours, turning it over to trace the veins on the back gently while he maneuvered his Lexus through the Manhattan streets.

It had only been a few months since you’d started seeing Ari, and while his touches were often greedy when you were fooling around, he hadn’t been prone to physical displays of affection since the first few dates you went on with him. Back then, he’d reached for your hand a few times, but after a point he’d stopped.

Truthfully, it had been a relief. One of your greatest fears was falling for a sugar daddy who didn’t return your feelings, and considering how handsome Ari was, you’d known it was a serious risk getting into a relationship with him. But he’d been so charming and carefree, you didn’t think it would be a problem to keep your heart out of things. He didn’t seem like he was looking for anything serious anyway.

So you’d focused on having fun, and that had been easy. Ari took you to expensive restaurants with delicious food in New York City, or he’d fly you somewhere else if he was itching to get away for a little bit. During meals, you’d chat about trivial things, then fall into bed together as soon as you were back in whatever hotel room Ari had booked for the night. 

You didn’t quite know why your conversations didn’t go deeper than the shallow things you talked about, but you didn’t question it. It made everything so much easier if you didn’t truly know Ari—if he didn’t know you either. So you just stuck to safe topics, like planning dates and having sex. 

Your relationship with Ari was a nice change of pace for you. He was far from your first sugar daddy, and you’d learned some hard lessons in your past relationships. Too often, sugar daddies wanted to know things you weren’t comfortable sharing, but Ari had never pried. He’d set boundaries and didn’t push them. You were grateful for that.

But another part of you, a part that started off small and was growing with every date you went on with Ari, yearned to know more about your sugar daddy. You wanted to know what he liked to do when he wasn’t working or taking you on dates. You wanted to know if he had any family, if he celebrated the holidays with them. You wanted to know if he’d ever had his heart broken. 

Tamping down on those curious thoughts, you focused on the present—the music that was playing gently in the car, and the scenery passing by your window. The skyscrapers and high-rises of Manhattan had given way to the tightly-packed homes of the suburbs. 

Biting your tongue against all the questions you wanted to ask, not even sure how you’d begin to try to get to know your sugar daddy better—let alone whether it was a good idea—you sat in silence with Ari. The suburbs eventually gave way to the lush forests and hilly countryside of the Hudson Valley, giving you something prettier to look at.

It was too early in September for the leaves to be changing yet, but there were glimpses of golden yellows and warm oranges among the green foliage. A hint of what was to come. Autumn was inevitable and you found comfort in the changing seasons. 

Cozy weather was right around the corner, and you couldn’t wait for it. Hot apple cider and pumpkin pie, butterscotch cookies and mulled wine—you were a glutton for all the food and beverages associated with the autumn months. And you liked to make them yourself from scratch whenever possible. 

It was part of the reason you’d wanted Ari to take you apple picking, though he didn’t know that. He’d just accepted the request and planned the date. 

After a little while more of driving, Ari pulled off the paved road and onto a dirt track. There was a sign for Brothers’ Apple Orchard fixed to a worn, wooden fence, though dense trees hid the farm from view. 

A little ways down the dirt road, the trees opened up into a large parking lot that was already packed with families and groups of friends going apple picking on the warm September afternoon. The sight and sounds of all the people had nerves twisting in your stomach, and you wondered if it had been a smart idea to go without panties to a place that was meant for wholesome fun.

You’d long since learned that Ari had an exhibitionist streak, and that day wasn’t the first time he’d told you to show up to one of your dates without panties. You’d always enjoyed the excitement in the inherent risk of wearing a dress without anything underneath, but he’d never taken you somewhere with so many families before. The consequences of getting caught seemed so much worse than they ever had before.

Ari must’ve felt your fingers tense in his because he gave you a comforting squeeze as he pulled his Lexus into an empty space and put the car in park. Once done, he looked to you, his smile faltering when he took in the way your brows were pinched and the corners of your mouth were turned down in an uncertain frown.

“Do you trust me, darling?” Ari asked, cupping your face and leaning across the car’s console to press his forehead to yours. His thumb stroked gently over your cheek, matching the sweeping of his other thumb against the back of your hand. 

You were quiet for a moment, nibbling on your lower lip as you thought about his question—really thought about it.

It weighed on you a little that you didn’t know Ari very well, especially since a part of you desperately wanted to, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know his character. Ari had never pushed you to do something you didn’t want to do, and he always checked in with you when you were together, making sure you were comfortable and having fun. So while you didn’t know his favorite color, you did trust him. 

Exhaling slowly, you nodded, your forehead shifting against Ari’s. “I trust you, Ari,” you said, your voice little more than a whisper, like you were telling him a secret in the privacy afforded by the enclosed space of his car. 

To your surprise, Ari sighed in relief at your words, the exhale so short and quiet, you wondered if you’d heard correctly. But you didn’t have time to analyze it because Ari was pressing a quick kiss to your lips and then pulling back to open his door and step out into the September sunshine.

You watched as Ari rounded the front of the Lexus, a charming grin on his face as he winked at you over the hood of his car. It was only because you were alone that you allowed yourself a silly little giggle, your mouth spreading across your face in a wide smile. He opened your door and offered you a hand to help you out.

“Careful, darling, wouldn’t want to give anyone a free show,” Ari murmured teasingly while you slid your hand into his, feeling the roughness of his palm against the pads of your fingertips. 

A zing of thrill went straight to your core at his words, joining the sparks you felt when you touched him. The fingers of your other hand played with the hem of your dress as you stepped one foot out of the car. You darted a look around, finding you had some relative privacy between Ari’s Lexus and the next car over, and pretended to rearrange your skirt. 

In reality, you flashed your bare slit for your sugar daddy, biting your lip and ducking your head when you heard his sharp inhale. Ari made a low, tortured sound and squeezed your fingers, practically pulling you out of the car before pinning you against the side.

“Naughty girl,” Ari growled in your ear, pressing his big body against yours so you were trapped between his hard muscles and the warm metal of the Lexus at your back. “You’re going to get us in trouble if you keep flashing that pretty pussy at me, darling.” 

A breathless, disbelieving laugh gusted past your lips before you could stop it, even as your head went a little fuzzy from the familiar scent of Ari’s cologne filling your senses. It felt like the vetiver and leather on his skin was embedded in your mind as a reminder of all the pleasure he’d given you, and with his body pressed against yours, it took you a moment to respond.

“You’re the one who told me not to wear panties to our apple picking date, daddy,” you reminded him, gripping the soft cotton of Ari’s t-shirt beneath his denim shirt, your fingers brushing against the sides of his tapered waist. You pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, brushing your body against his firm form enticingly while your lips grazed along his scruffy cheek. “Maybe you shouldn’t have done that if you didn’t want me to show you my achy, needy cunt.”

A low growl rumbled in Ari’s chest and he pressed you harder against the side of his car, his body impossibly warm and hard through the thin fabric of your dress. You could feel every firm line of him against your soft curves, including the thick bulge digging into your stomach. 

Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Ari’s hands skimmed down your sides and dove beneath the hem of your skirt, palming your ass and kneading your soft flesh with firm, possessive fingers.

“Darling, if you keep saying such filthy things, you’re gonna end up in the back of my car with my cock buried in your achy, needy cunt,” he purred, a threat in his tone that he punctuated by nipping at your ear, making you gasp and arch into him, pressing your tits against his solid chest. “You’re gonna get us banned from the orchard because you won’t be able to stop screaming while I pound your pussy—is that what you want?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to say yes. 

In the short time since you’d stepped out of the car, Ari had you feeling wet and aching and empty. Warmth flooded your body that had nothing to do with the sun shining brightly above your heads, and you wanted badly for Ari to free his cock from his slacks and slide it inside you.

But then the shrieking laughter of children punctured the bubble of lust surrounding you, and you remembered exactly where you were. Shaking your head, you dropped your gaze to the edge of Ari’s jaw while you sucked in a deep breath, focusing on the fresh air beyond the scent of your sugar daddy’s cologne. 

Ari’s big body eased back, giving you more room to breathe and you ignored the pang of disappointment at the loss of him. Instead, you let the crisp autumn breeze brushing against your cheeks and dancing between your thighs cool you down. 

After giving you a moment, Ari curled a finger beneath your chin and tipped your face up to look at him. His brows were lowered and his eyes looked at you questioningly.

“Do you still want to go apple picking?” he asked softly, planting his other hand on the hood of his car, as if he needed to force himself not to touch you so you could answer his question. The thought made you smile, and his eyes dropped to your lips, his thumb brushing quickly over the bottom one. 

“I do,” you said in a light, breathless voice, a smile teasing around the edges of your mouth. On a whim, you nipped at Ari’s thumb, giving him a smirk when his eyes darkened. “If you think you can keep it in your pants until later, daddy,” you taunted him, pushing your hips forward so his bulge pressed into your belly.

“You’re such fucking trouble,” Ari growled before his mouth captured yours in a searing kiss. One of his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you into him while the other cradled your head gently, holding you exactly where he wanted you while he devoured your mouth, his tongue sweeping possessively past your lips until you were moaning softly into him.

A loud, clearing throat had you finally breaking apart. Both you and Ari turned your heads toward the sound, finding a blonde woman raising an eyebrow at the two of you before cutting her eyes pointedly to the children beside her. Your cheeks heated and you buried your face in Ari’s neck to muffle a cackling laugh. 

“Apologies, ma’am,” Ari called gruffly, raising a hand in a repentant wave. 

The woman huffed and rolled her eyes, which only made you laugh harder, pressing your face deeper into the warm curve of Ari’s shoulder as you tried to stay quiet. When the woman and her family were finally gone, you leaned back, giving Ari a cheeky grin. 

“Think she’s gonna complain about us and get us banned?” you asked teasingly, sliding your hands up Ari’s chest until they rested on his shoulders, trying not to think about how easy it was to touch your sugar daddy so casually. “Tell them we were acting indecently in the parking lot?”

Ari laughed, chucking you under your chin gently before ducking down for a quick kiss. “If she does, I’ll just buy the farm,” Ari murmured against your mouth. “They can’t ban us if I own them.”

Your breath caught in your lungs at Ari’s pronouncement, surprise making your heart leap in your chest. Your sugar daddy had bought you plenty of expensive gifts since you’d started seeing him, but buying a farm so you could go apple picking in peace was on another level entirely. You had to wonder if Ari was serious, but the look in his eye was genuine when he pulled back. 

“Don’t give me that look, darling,” he rumbled, his heated gaze raking over your face, taking in your wide eyes and parted lips. His thumb stroked over your bottom lip, pulling on it ever so slightly to the side, sending a little thrill through your body. “Or we aren’t making it into the orchard.”

You closed your mouth, swallowing thickly and bobbed your head in a nod. Then, you slid away from Ari, slipping from between his big body and the car and taking a deep, steadying breath.

Even with the warm September sun shining down on your shoulders, you felt a little cold without Ari’s heat and shivered. But you told yourself you were being ridiculous, shaking off the shiver and turning back to your sugar daddy.

Ari was standing with both hands planted on the hood of the car, his head hanging between them while he took deep breaths. He must’ve felt your attention on him because he lifted his head and gave you a charming smile. 

“Just gimme a sec, darling,” he said, shooting you a wink before he straightened and dropped his hands to the bulge in his slacks. 

You tried not to ogle your sugar daddy as he adjusted himself to make his hard length less prominent in his pants, but you knew what was hiding beneath his clothes and you knew how good his cock felt sliding inside you.

A sizzling, delicious warmth cascaded through your body, and you let yourself watch Ari’s big hands adjusting his bulge for a moment before tearing your eyes away and taking deep breaths of the fresh air to clear your head as much as possible.

A moment later, Ari slung his arm around your shoulders and together the two of you walked toward the entrance to the orchard.

It took effort, but you managed not to look down at the front of his pants, sure that if you did, neither of you would make it any further. And you did want to go apple picking. You had so many things you wanted to bake with the apples you were going to pick. 

Keeping your chin up and your gaze forward, you and Ari walked to the small, squat red building that served as the entryway to the orchard. One side was for folks heading into the field of apple trees, and you joined the line while scrutinizing the size of baskets and crates you could get for picking. 

Ari let you choose the size, and you picked a decent size wooden basket, thinking that would give you plenty of apples to use for baking. A farm worker explained that your apples would be weighed when you were done, and you paid per pound. Then they handed Ari a map that specified where each apple variety could be found, and the two of you were set free into the orchard. 

“What kind of apples are we picking today?” Ari asked, peering at the paper in his hand while he snagged the basket from you. 

You leaned into his side so you could read the map, and pointed when you found what you wanted. “Honeycrisp, honeycrisp!” you chanted, letting your excitement overtake you. 

Ari chuckled, folding the map and tucking it into his pocket before giving you one of his charming grins. “Honeycrisp it is, honeycrisp,” he teased, smoothing his hand down your arm to lace his fingers with yours before he began walking into the orchard.

A shiver of delight raced down your spine at Ari’s gentle, familiar touch and the sweet new nickname. He’d only ever called you ‘darling’ before, and while you liked the pet name, ‘honeycrisp’ made you feel closer to your sugar daddy because it was meant for only you. It was something people in a real romantic relationship did, wasn’t it?

Your feet stumbled a little before you fell into step beside Ari. Out of the corner of your eye, you looked up at him consideringly, wondering—not for the first time—what he thought of you. If he thought you were someone worth caring about—if he thought of you at all when you weren’t together. 

Your sugar daddy flashed an easy smile at you, and you couldn’t help but return the gesture, even as you thought about how difficult he was to read. He was always charming and easygoing, and it made it hard to figure out what he was really thinking, let alone what he was really feeling.

You did your best to push those pondering thoughts from your mind and simply enjoy the walk through the orchard with Ari. You reminded yourself that he’d made it clear he just wanted to have fun with you, so that’s what you were determined to do: Enjoy the warm day and pick some apples with your handsome sugar daddy.

The honeycrisp section of the orchard ended up being quite busy, with families and groups of friends forming small crowds around all the trees closest to the entrance of the field. You paused for a moment, your face falling in a small frown.

Ari must’ve seen your expression because he tugged on your hand and led you past the crowds, strolling down a long row of apple trees to go deeper into the orchard. The excited chatter of other people faded until you could barely hear them and the farm grew peaceful. Finally, you came to the edge of the orchard, and Ari pulled you to a stop at the end of a row of honeycrisp trees. 

“Wow, that’s a lot of apples,” you said, peering up at the trees around you. They were bigger and taller than the ones you’d passed that were being picked over by the crowds. Their branches were practically bursting with ripe, red apples, the color swirling with yellow and green as it often did with that particular variety. 

It seemed no one else had thought to escape the crowds and venture deeper into the orchard, because you couldn’t hear anyone else around. It was just you, your sugar daddy and the apple trees. 

It was so perfect you couldn’t stifle the beaming grin that spread across your face.

“Should I go back for another basket—or a crate?” Ari asked, a grin in his tone. 

When you finally tore your eyes away from the trees and their bounty, you found him staring at you, something like fondness in his gaze. It struck you that Ari had no idea why you wanted apples—you’d never told him you liked to bake or what you planned to do with the ones you picked—but he’d planned the date and was offering to help you pick as many apples as you wanted. 

A warmth started in your chest, feeling as though it were wrapping around your heart and filling you up with a dizzying amount of sunshine, until your ribs were nearly bursting with it. Your cheeks felt warm, and your face ached a little from how wide you were smiling. 

When you realized that you were staring back at Ari with just as much, if not more, affection than was in his gaze, you tried to tamp it down, forcing yourself to scoff lightly at his question. 

“I think one will be plenty,” you said dryly, turning back to the trees and trying to calculate how many apples would fit into the basket Ari carried. Would it be enough for the apple crisp cheesecake recipe you’d been dying to try? You decided it would have to be. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, honeycrisp?” Ari asked softly, curling a finger beneath your chin and tipping your face to look up at him. He eased your bodies toward each other and your arms wrapped naturally around his waist. 

It wasn’t until you’d pressed your hands to Ari’s back, your hands settling against the solid muscle of him, that you even realized what you were doing. When you did, you froze, feeling a little spooked by how easy it was becoming to sink into Ari’s casual touches and return them. It felt like there was a growing intimacy between the two of you, and you didn’t know quite yet how you felt about it. 

“Honeycrisp?” you asked, latching on to the one thing you could think to say that would delay you needing to answer Ari’s question. 

He’d never asked you what you were thinking before. When he checked in with you, his questions were always more direct, and more specific about what you were doing. You didn’t know if he really wanted to know, so you hoped a distraction might work.

Ari’s grin turned a little mischievous, like he knew what you were doing, and he wrapped his arms around you, hauling you up against his large, firm body. He ducked his head and nudged your nose with his, tickling your cheek with his beard until you laughed softly into his scruff.

“It fits, doesn’t it?” he asked in a low, rumbly voice that sent warmth dancing through your body. “You’re sweet as honey and as delicious as an apple crisp.” He kissed your lower lip, sucking on its plumpness with a slow, deliberate drag that had you nearly moaning into his mouth.

“Yeah, I like it,” you murmured when he released your lip, your voice obscenely breathy as your eyes fluttered open. You couldn’t remember closing them. Being so close to Ari, having his arms around you and his lips on you, was rattling your brain a little.

“Now, darling honeycrisp, tell daddy what had you thinking so hard about those apples,” Ari rumbled, his voice sweetly coaxing as he brushed butterfly kisses along your jaw. His lips were soft and his beard was coarse, and the contrast of the sensations had you sighing softly and melting further into his arms. “Unless you don’t want to tell me?”

There was a thread of uncertainty in Ari’s tone as he voiced the question, like he wasn’t sure if he was pushing too hard by asking you to tell him what you’d been thinking about. 

It was so different to how other sugar daddies—other men in general—had treated you. They’d always demanded you tell them whatever they wanted to know, as if they had a right to every part of you. 

But Ari wasn’t like that. He’d never been like that, and it didn’t surprise you that the first time he asked something even remotely personal, he was still giving you the opportunity to sidestep the question if you didn’t want to answer. It made you want to tell him all the more.

“I was thinking about what I want to bake with the apples we pick,” you answered, a smile teasing around the edges of your mouth. “And trying to make sure one basket would be enough.”

Ari brushed a kiss to the apple of your cheek, as if thanking you for telling him. Pulling back a bit so he could look at you, he tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

“You like to bake?”

You felt a little shy in the moment, ducking your head under the weight of his sparkling blue eyes, and nodded. “Yeah,” you said shrugging as if it was no big deal. Then, when Ari didn’t reply right away, you went on, filling the silence by answering a question he hadn’t asked. “I don’t usually tell sugar daddies—the one time I did, he got weird.”

Biting your lip to stem the flow of words from your mouth, you winced. You weren’t sure if Ari had known you’d had other sugar daddies before him, but it felt awkward to acknowledge the fact even if you weren’t ashamed of it. Besides, something inside you rebelled against the idea of lumping Ari in with all your other sugar daddies—he truly wasn’t like anyone else you’d been with. 

“Weird how?” Ari asked in a tone gentler than any you’d heard him use before. One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, but he didn’t try to make you look at him, just stroked your skin with his thumb. The gesture was so profoundly comforting that you lay your head on his shoulder and gave a sigh of relief. 

“Once he knew I liked to bake, he expected me to bake for him,” you explained slowly, choosing your words carefully. “But not just bake—he bought me an apron and skimpy little dresses to wear underneath it with these ridiculous heels. He wanted me to bake for him and…service him.” 

You pressed your face into Ari’s shoulder, remembering the experience and cringing over what you’d let that man talk you into. He was a major reason you appreciated Ari’s boundaries so much. You felt safer, like things couldn’t spiral out of your control, with the boundaries your sugar daddy had set in place.

After you’d answered his question, Ari stayed quiet, just holding you, his thumb stroking soothingly over the back of your neck. His big arms felt so steady around you that you couldn’t help but take comfort in them, and you went on, feeling safe enough to tell Ari the rest.

“He took all the joy out of baking,” you said in a small voice. “I stopped seeing him soon after, but he wasn’t happy about it.”

Ari exhaled a sharp breath and he squeezed you in his arms, holding you tight for a long moment before he eased up a little. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “I would love to try your baking, but only if you want—hell, you can come over today and use my kitchen and bake in one of my shirts if you want.”

A relieved laugh gusted out of you, and you were so glad Ari understood that it took you a moment to realize he’d invited you to his apartment. 

You’d never seen where he lived—and even though he paid for it, he’d never been inside your apartment either. Ari had always gotten hotel rooms, even for dates in in the city. 

You hadn’t thought much about it beyond appreciating the fact that Ari didn’t act entitled to be in your space because he paid for it. But now he was inviting you to his apartment, his space, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

Pulling back, you gave him a curious look. 

“Are you sure?”

Ari leveled you with a look of his own, and though his gaze was serious, there was a hint of amusement in the curve of his mouth. “Are you sure?” he countered, his voice going low and rumbly as he went on. “If you start baking in my kitchen wearing only my shirt, there’s a very good chance I’ll eat more of you than whatever you make.” He raised his eyebrows, as if to drive home the lewd insinuation of his statement. 

But despite his dirty warning—or perhaps because of it—you only warmed to the idea of baking in Ari’s apartment. It sounded fun in a way it hadn’t been with your past sugar daddy and you bounced on the balls of your feet as excitement flooded through you. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy,” you sassed, shifting your arms to wind around Ari’s neck. You used your hold on him to keep your balance as you pushed up onto your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek. “I already know what I want to make.”

Ari chuckled, giving you a quick kiss before pulling out his phone and telling you to pull up the recipe so that he could forward it to his assistant to make sure his apartment had everything you’d need. You did as he asked and handed his phone back to him, watching for his reaction to the recipe you’d chosen.

To your delight, Ari groaned like he was being tortured, his thumb flicking over the screen as he scrolled through the recipe to look at all the pictures.

“You’re gonna make this?” he asked, before reading out the title, “An Apple crisp cheesecake?” He made another agonized sound before looking to you for confirmation.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, knowing he was excited despite the miserable noises he was making, and nodded eagerly to answer his question.

Ari shook his head with a disbelieving look on his face and tapped out a message on his phone before pocketing it again. Then he grabbed you around the waist and hauled you against him again.

“You’re trouble for my pants, honeycrisp,” he muttered, dropping a too-brief kiss to your lips. “First you make me hard enough I feel like I’m gonna pop my zipper.” He trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck in between his words, his mouth and beard tickling your skin while you melted into his arms. “Next you’re gonna fill me up with apple crisp cheesecake until my button breaks.” 

You made a sound that was half-laugh, half-moan as you tipped your head to the side, giving him more access to nip and lick at your neck while you clung to his shoulders, your knees going weak from your sugar daddy’s attention. 

“You don’t need to eat that much cheesecake, Ari,” you wheezed in between bouts of laughter, giggling harder when he nipped playfully at your ear.

“If it’s as delicious as you, I don’t know how I’ll be able to stop myself,” he flirted, kissing the spot just beneath your ear that had you shivering in his arms. 

“Ari,” you said his name on a breathy exhale, and it was a good thing his lips captured yours in a searing kiss, because you didn’t have any hope of responding to his compliment. Instead, you showed him how much you appreciated it by kissing him back hard, your fingers tangling in his soft brown hair as you clung to your sugar daddy and made out in the apple orchard.

By the time Ari pulled away to let you get some air, you were breathless and happier than you’d been in a long time. To your own surprise, you felt good about opening up to Ari and telling him about your past bad experience. He’d made you feel heard and cared for, all while giving you reason to believe he’d never do anything like that to you. He made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t with any of your other sugar daddies. 

Because of all that, you were actually excited to finally see his apartment. It felt like an important step, the beginning of something new, perhaps something deeper, and though there was an undercurrent of anxiety in your belly, you were more excited than anything else. 

And if you weren’t mistaken, Ari looked excited, too. His eyes were looking at you with affection in their depths, and his mouth was curved into a genuine smile. 

As he grinned down at you, Ari let his hands slide down from your lower back to your ass, groping you through your dress before swatting the soft cheeks lightly. 

“Alright, honeycrisp, these apples won’t pick themselves,” he teased good-naturedly. “And I’ve got a craving for some apple crisp cheesecake now.” He waggled his eyebrows at you, making you laugh.

But you forced a serious expression onto your face and gave him a mocking salute. “Yes, sir,” you said in a deeper voice, trying to tamp down on the smile that wanted to break free.

You lost the battle when Ari gave a loud laugh, his head tipping back and the sun shining down on his golden face while he gave into your silliness. He recovered quickly, though, looking back down at you fondly as he rumbled, “That’s ‘yes, daddy’, to you, honeycrisp.” Then he slapped your ass a little harder to urge you to get a move on before he finally, reluctantly, pulled away and turned in the direction of the apple trees.

To ease some of the disappointment you both felt, Ari gave you a salacious wink that had your cheeks warming again. You couldn’t even blame the September sun on the heat in your face. Your sugar daddy was just so hot, it was hardly even fair.

To distract yourself from wanting to curl up in Ari’s arms and say to hell with apple picking, you snatched up the basket he’d dropped, arching your back and popping your ass to give him a peek at your pussy, then straightened and skipped to the nearest apple tree to start picking. 

When you chanced a glance over your shoulder, you saw Ari’s eyes were heated and staring at the way your skirt fluttered around your ass, his big hand palming his bulge in his pants. You wiggled your ass for him, turning back around to hide your laughter when his long-suffering groan met your ears. 

But you couldn’t keep your eyes off Ari and you turned your head to watch him out of the corner of your eye, catching him swiping a hand down over his face while he shook his head. Something about the gesture sent your heart pitter-pattering in your chest—which only got worse when Ari caught you looking and winked while he adjusted himself in his pants.

You felt giddy as you refocused on the tree in front of you, your breaths coming in soft little gasps as excitement and desire swirled in your core. It took you a long moment to gather your thoughts and remind yourself that you could not jump your sugar daddy in the middle of an apple orchard that was open to the public—no matter how much you desperately wanted to. 

With slightly shaking fingers, you began to pick apples, doing your best to pay attention to what you were doing and make sure you were selecting the best fruit you could find. If Ari was going to try your baking for the first time, you wanted your apple crisp cheesecake to be the best that it could possibly be. 

Ari came to stand beside you, and though you wanted him to put his hands on you, you were happy to see him dedicate himself to the task of picking apples, even reaching up to the branches that were too high for you. In turn, you showed Ari how to check for bruises and other unwanted things in the fruit before adding them to the basket at your feet.

Between the two of you picking apples, it wasn’t long before the basket was nearly overflowing, but you were having so much fun, you didn’t want it to end. So when Ari asked if you still needed more, you gave him a shy smile and said just a few. You didn’t want him to go get another basket—because, really, you didn’t need that many apples—but you didn’t want the apple picking part of your date to end just yet.

Your sugar daddy seemed to understand your desire to linger because he didn’t call you out on the fact that your basket could barely hold any more apples. Instead, he flashed you an indulgent grin and nodded, joining you under the apple tree where you’d been picking. 

But rather than moving beside you, as he’d stood while you’d worked together, he came up behind you so that his chest was brushing against your back. His hands settled lightly on your waist, loosely caging you in beneath the apple tree with your body facing the trunk. 

He ducked down so his scruffy, bearded cheek was pressed to yours and pointed to a cluster of apples just out of your reach. “Why don’t you grab one of those?” he suggested, the practiced innocence in his tone nearly making you snort with laughter. 

You knew Ari was playing a game, you could feel it in the mischievous tension crackling in the air, and you were almost certain it would lead to some sort of naughtiness in the orchard. But your body was wound tight, and you wanted to get up to a little mischief with your sugar daddy, so you decided to play along. 

“I can’t reach, daddy,” you simpered, proving your point by reaching your hand up to show that the apples were too high up, your fingertips only barely grazing the fruit. You used the movement to deliberately push your ass back into Ari’s lap and you had to smother a giggle when you felt the hard ridge of him in his pants.

“Let me help, honeycrisp,” Ari rumbled, and though you couldn’t see his grin, you knew it was there by the warmth in his voice. You bit your lip against your own wide smile.

Ari’s hand slid down your side, all the way to the back of your thigh, before he gently grabbed your leg behind your knee to lift it until your foot was planted on a low branch. Then he guided your hips deeper into his lap, where you could feel the long, stiff length of his cock wedging between your ass cheeks through your thin dress.

“C’mon, honeycrisp, reach a little bit more,” he urged, tilting your hips and bending his knees so that his hard bulge was pressed against your bare slit. Then he surged forward, lifting you just a little off the ground while he dragged the thick length of his cock against your weeping pussy. 

You fell helplessly against the trunk of the tree, the apples forgotten as a low moan slipped past your lips. Ari teased you with his clothed cock, and your spine arched to bare more of yourself to his hard bulge. Craning your neck to catch Ari’s eye over your shoulder, you gave him a desperate, pleading look. 

“Daddy, please,” you begged on a whine, pushing back into his lap and wiggling your ass side to side to try to entice him into giving you something more. You’d been teasing each other all day, and you were hitting a breaking point. You needed him to give you something.

Ari chuckled, burying his face in the side of your neck, his deep laughter rolling deliciously down your spine and settling between your thighs, until you were pulsing with desire. He curled around your body until he was surrounding you, your smaller form fitting perfectly within the cage of his arms. 

He reached above you and easily plucked the apple he’d directed you to pick from the spot you hadn’t been able to reach and presented it to you. At the same time, his other hand began to wander, groping your soft tits until you moaned prettily again for him. 

“Does it pass your inspection, darling?” he asked, urging you to focus on the apple he held in front of you. 

Truthfully, you didn’t care anymore about picking apples—you had plenty of them in the basket at your feet—but you did your best to look it over. You turned it over in your trembling fingers, checking for bruises and bugs. Finding it to be perfect, you nodded. 

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” Ari murmured, taking the apple from your hands and pulling away to set it on top of the pile in your basket. 

You had to bite back a whine at the loss of him, but he was back against you a moment later, his warmth surrounding you as his arms curled around your body. His hands slid up your sides and cupped your tits, kneading them in his big, strong hands until your head fell back against his shoulder and you let out a soft whimper of need.

“Now is that enough apples, honeycrisp?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

“Yuh huh,” you mumbled, nodding weakly as you arched your spine and pushed your chest into Ari’s hands. He rewarded you by pinching and plucking your nipples through the soft cotton of your dress, wringing a weak whine from your lips. “Plenty.” 

“Good,” Ari rumbled, pressing his face into the side of your neck, his mouth licking and nipping at your skin like you tasted as sweet as the fruit you’d been picking, his rough beard making you shiver in his hold. “Because if I had to see your pretty pussy winking at me from beneath your skirt one more time while you were bending over or reaching for some apples, it was going to drive me fucking wild.”

A low moan slipped free from your lips while one of Ari’s hands skimmed down your front, sliding under the hem  of your dress and cupping you between your thighs. His big hand covered your entire mound, which was sticky with your juices. 

He growled when he felt just how wet you were, the sound reverberating down your spine and making your pussy spasm, more wetness dripping from your slit and into his palm.

“Fuck,” Ari ground out through gritted teeth, his voice rough with his own barely leashed desire. “You’re soaking wet for me, honeycrisp—I gotta feel you,” he said, an urgency in his voice as he sank two fingers into your drenched hole, pulling another moan from you. His hips were grinding his bulge against your ass so hard, you could feel him throbbing. “Gotta feel this tight warm cunt on my cock, ‘m not gonna make it back to the car—need you now.”

“Ari,” you whispered harshly, trying to sound angry, but the two syllables of his name came out dipped in desire and you felt your sugar daddy shudder against your back, his fingers working harder inside your sopping cunt, his palm making soft slapping sounds every time he bottomed out. “We shouldn’t.” 

Despite your weak protest, you rolled your head to the side on Ari’s shoulder, peering through the branches of the tree toward where you’d left the crowds of other apple pickers. They were still so distant you couldn’t hear them over your soft, gasping breaths, but there was no telling when someone might stray from the others. They could stumble upon you at any moment. 

The only protection you had from wandering eyes were the branches of the apple tree. Thankfully, they were close enough and the leaves dense enough that you couldn’t see much beyond Ari’s big body, but if someone came close enough, they’d no doubt hear you or Ari, and then you’d be caught.

“We’re going to get arrested,” you scolded in a hushed tone before turning your head to bury your face in Ari’s beard and stifle the moan on the tip of your tongue. He hadn’t stopped fucking you with his fingers and your reluctance was ebbing from your body just as surely as your desire was leaking into his hand. 

Instead of responding to your statement with the seriousness you felt it deserved, Ari simply chuckled against your cheek and used his thumb to circle your clit, making your hips jerk into his hand, your body wordlessly begging him for more while you muffled a whine into the underside of his jaw. 

“We’ll be fine, honeycrisp,” Ari soothed in a placating tone that made you growl like a feral kitten into his throat, so he switched tactics, his voice going low and rough. “Don’t you wanna feel me, honey?” He asked, grinding his hard length into your soft ass until you mewled pathetically. “Don’t you wanna drip your sweet juices all over daddy’s cock like a good girl?” 

It was on the tip of your tongue to give in. You knew you shouldn’t. You knew there was a very real possibility that you could get caught, and it was only your fear of the potential consequences that held your words at bay. But Ari was well acquainted with the fear that held you back, and he knew exactly how to help you break through it. 

“Just the tip,” he murmured, his voice so warm you could hear the smile in it. “Just take the tip, and stay quiet, and we’ll be golden.” He nuzzled your face, his beard rasping over your soft skin and sending tingles of delight all through your body. 

You knew it was a ploy. You knew that Ari knew that you’d never be able to settle for just the tip of his cock—after all, you never had before. But it was easier to pretend you could settle for just the tip than to say yes to Ari fucking you in the middle of the apple orchard when there were people not too far away. It was the small step you needed to break free from your fear.

Lifting your head, you looked around. There was nothing to see except dense branches and leaves and endless apples. Ari’s body hid you entirely from sight, and you still couldn’t hear anyone else close by, so if you stayed quiet, you really could get away with a quickie in the orchard. 

A wicked smile spread across your face and you turned your head to catch Ari’s eye over your shoulder.

“Just the tip?” you asked, you voice laced with suggestion. You knew Ari was going to end up sinking much more of his cock into you, but you wanted to play along for a little bit. “Promise, daddy?” Your question was meant to sound innocent, but you couldn’t help the way the corners of your lips wavered in an eager grin.

Ari chuckled and kissed the corner of your mouth, because he knew exactly what you were doing. “I promise, darling…” he said, trailing off as he pulled his fingers from your pussy with an embarrassingly wet sound that made him grin. “Unless, of course, you beg me like a good girl.” 

“Hurry, daddy,” you cooed, wiggling your ass against Ari’s bulge, a teasing smile on your lips as you watched him over your shoulder. 

Ari’s eyes darkened and then he was using his clean hand to fumble with his belt and fly while he swatted your pussy playfully with his drenched fingers. You gasped and twitched, trying to stay quiet and failing miserably as desperate keening sound slipped from your mouth.

At your urging, Ari wasted no time, shoving his pants open and pulling out his cock, pushing your dress up over your ass and rubbing the tip through your drenched folds. Both of you groaned, Ari’s face falling forward against your shoulder while you grabbed onto the trunk of the tree in front of you, trying to stay upright while your knees trembled. 

Then Ari was pushing inside, the head of his cock sinking into the warmth of your pussy. The stretch of him was too delicious, and you moaned louder than was wise, but you couldn’t help yourself. He felt too good. 

“What’d I say about staying quiet?” Ari rumbled in your ear, right before he shoved his fingers in your mouth. The tart taste of your wetness mixed with apples burst on your tongue and you moaned again, licking wildly at his fingers to get as much of it as you could. “Mm, that’s it, clean up your mess, honeycrisp—show daddy what a good girl you can be.”

Ari’s other hand gripped your hip, holding you steady while he fucked you with just the tip of his cock, pushing into your tight hole and pulling free until the tease of it drove you wild. 

“Mm-oah, mm-oah,” you begged around Ari’s fingers, trying to push back on Ari’s stiff length and take more of him, but he held you still, forcing you to take only what he gave you. You bounced impatiently, the foot that was still lifted on one of the branches shaking it so furiously, the leaves rattled and a few apples dropped to the ground.

“Oh, did you want something, honey?” Ari asked, his tone filled with mocking innocence as he pulled his fingers from your mouth. You shot him a half-hearted glare over your shoulder, pouting. 

“I need more, daddy, please,” you begged, giving him your best desperate, pleading look while you pushed back against his hold, reveling in the way he didn’t let you move to take him further. “Please split me open with your thick cock, daddy—I need it.”

Ari blew out a sharp breath. “Fuck, I wanna tease you some more, but I can’t—need you too bad, honey,” Ari rasped, squeezing your hip while his other arm wrapped loosely around the front of your throat, so the bulge of his bicep was just beneath your chin. 

“Remember, stay quiet.” His hushed words were your only warning before Ari slammed into you, shoving every inch of his hard cock into your wet, needy cunt. 

A scream welled up inside your chest, your mouth dropping open as it clawed its way up your throat, but at the last second before it was set free, you managed to bury your face in Ari’s bicep. Your teeth sank into his warm, golden skin and you bit your sugar daddy while you screamed into his arm. 

His tortured groan was loud, but only because it poured directly into your ear, the sound dripping in pleasure as your inner walls squeezed his hard cock and made room for the thick length of him in the depths of your body.

Bliss consumed you, the stinging edge of Ari pushing inside you so fast and stretching you so suddenly making your body burn all the hotter. Already, your cunt was pulsing around Ari’s cock like you wanted him to stay buried inside you for a long time and you sighed happily, pulling your teeth from your sugar daddy’s arm. 

While Ari gave you a moment to adjust, his hand kneading the plush softness of your hip, you kissed and licked at the indents your teeth had left in his skin. He chuckled, brushing a kiss against your temple, an acceptance of your wordless apology. 

“Ready, honey?” Ari asked softly, nuzzling your cheek while he rolled his hips, grinding his cock into you in a way that had you moaning again. “This is gonna be hard and fast. I can’t—I gotta pound your pretty pussy,” he rumbled, his tone almost apologetic with the urgency in it. “Gotta feel you dripping around me, squeezing me, milking me.”

His hand shifted from your hip to slip between your thighs, his fingers finding your slippery clit and rubbing the puffy pearl. He grunted when you clenched around him, his fingers stroking you harder and winding your pleasure higher while he rolled his hips, fucking you in short, sharp thrusts.

“Fuck, honey, fuck,” he bit out, his breaths heavy in between every word. “Tell me you’re ready for me to move.”

“Please, yes, move,” you cried propping your chin on Ari’s bicep while your nails dug into the trunk of the tree in front of you. You used your grip to brace yourself and push back on Ari’s cock, taking him deeper with every thrust. “Need you, daddy, please, please, please,” you babbled, your voice coming out strained with the effort to keep it quiet.

“Fucking right you need me—just like I need you,” Ari growled, pulling his hips back and slamming forward, driving into you with so much force, you could hear the soft sound of your ass slapping against his thighs. “You have the sweetest, tightest pussy I’ve ever had—best fucking pussy in the world. I dream about it when I’m not with you,” he confessed, his words rough like he’d pulled them from the depths of his soul. “Dream about pumping you full of my come until your belly’s bulging with me, honey.”

Your mind reeled at Ari’s confession even as your body sank deeper into his hold. You were still trying to catch up on processing his words but your pussy was clenching around his cock greedily, as if begging for him to come inside you already. 

In that moment, a singular truth crystalized in your mind: You’d been deluding yourself into thinking you didn’t care for Ari—that he didn’t care for you. It was very clear that Ari did care about you, and you cared about him.

All those boundaries in your relationship, you realized you’d been the one creating them, not Ari. Ari had been patient, chipping away at the walls you’d built around yourself until he’d somehow found his way in. He’d dreamed about you, and you’d thought he was just another sugar daddy looking to have some fun. You’d been so wrong about him.

At the weight of your realization, you nearly collapsed against the tree, but managed to hold yourself up, sobbing with pleasure and emotion. Ari seemed to sense the shift in your mood and he slowed his movements, as if he was going to stop, but you shook your head, feeling feral with your need for him. 

“Please, daddy,” you cried softly, your voice hoarse with the flood of affection filling your heart. It was emphasized by the feeling of Ari inside you, surrounding you, your body cradled in his arms while he fuckd you like he wanted you to never forget the feel of him. “Fill me up, make me your perfect little cumslut, daddy, just keep me—keep me.” 

“Always,” he rasped, his lips at your temple. The promise in that single word buried deep in your heart, taking root. 

Something changed between you and Ari, and you knew he felt it too because he started fucking you faster than before, his hips snapping harder against your ass so he could push deep into your cunt with every thrust.

“Fuck, honey, ‘m almost there, are you close?” he rasped, his tone desperate. 

Your head bobbed in a nod. 

“Uh huh, ‘m close, just need a little more…” you trailed off in a whine, trying to push back on his cock and grind your clit against his stroking fingers at the same time.

Thankfully, Ari understood what you were begging for, and he rubbed you harder, his fingers relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure while he rutted into your cunt.

“C’mon, honey, come on daddy’s cock,” he rumbled in your ear, his voice deliciously deep to match his dirty words and push you closer to the edge. “Be a good little cumslut and milk my cock, make me fill your sweet pussy with all my come, honey.” 

You buried your face into Ari’s bicep again, your teeth sinking into his skin as you screamed your release. Wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through your body, until your limbs were trembling and your fingers were shaking against the outside of Ari’s arm, having forgotten when you’d let go of the tree to cling to him.

With a grunt, Ari’s cock twitched inside you, reacting to the sting of your bite and the merciless grasping of your inner walls around his hard length. His hips stuttered, then he started fucking into you wildly, his thrusts falling out of rhythm while he chased his own release. 

“Good girl, honey, so good, feel so fucking good milking daddy’s cock,” he muttered, cutting off on a deep groan while his cock throbbed inside you.

Ari spilled himself deep in your cunt and you moaned weakly, pulling back from his arm and licking his golden skin to sooth the indents your teeth had left behind. He tasted like salty skin and sweet apples and you hummed in pleasure as you rode out the remainder of your release with your bodies writhing together.

After a few long moments basking in the glorious afterglow of coming together, Ari took a deep breath and shifted his arm, chuckling lowly when you whimpered at the loss of his bicep to lick and kiss. He made it up to you by turning your head and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, pouring all the affection you finally knew he felt for you into the way his mouth moved against yours. 

When he pulled away, leaving you slightly breathless, Ari leveled you with a serious look. 

“You know you’re special to me, don’t you, honey?” he asked, using the new pet name that you knew was shortened from ‘honeycrisp’. 

You’d been too wrapped up in your own head to notice the way it rolled off his tongue—it was an endearment for someone Ari cared about, someone who was special to him, as he said.

Biting your kiss-swollen lower lip, feeling a little abashed that it had taken you so long to realize what Ari felt for you, you nodded. You could feel your cheeks warming, and tried to duck your head, but Ari only chuckled and caught your lips in another kiss, though it was briefer.

When he’d kissed away your anxiety, Ari set about extricating himself from you, pulling free from your body and helping you down from the tree. He quickly stuffed his softening cock back into his pants and then helped smooth your dress back over your hips before doing up his slacks. You turned to him, brushing his hair back from his face and warming at the way he was smiling down at you. 

Ari had an infectious grin on his face, and you couldn’t help but return it, your heart feeling warm and cozy in your chest. 

The two of you smiled goofily as you helped right each other’s appearances. Once you’d fixed yourselves as much as possible, Ari stooped down to pick up the basket of apples you’d picked, then grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together and planting a kiss on the back of your palm before heading off back to the farm stand.

As you walked past all the crowds of people, you were certain everyone knew what you and Ari had gotten up to in the orchard, but no one stopped or stared or said anything. They were all too focused on their own friends and families and the task of apple picking to notice you and Ari, or your big, silly smiles.

At the farm stand, Ari paid for the apples, then loaded them into his Lexus before helping you into the passenger seat. He dropped a kiss to your forehead, then rounded the front of the car and slid into his own seat.

You were quiet on the drive back to the city, your mind ruminating over the beginning of your relationship with Ari. When you thought back to your first few dates, you realized you’d been the one who was hesitant to answer any personal questions from your sugar daddy—and you’d never asked any of him. You’d also been the one to balk at the idea of either going back to his place or your apartment, leading him to get hotel rooms. 

Ari had been the one to respect your boundaries, even as he’d tried to get to know you better. He’d tried to ask you questions you felt comfortable answering—it was how he’d found out you liked apple picking, because you’d chosen it as a fall-themed date. He’d been so careful with you, it made your heart hurt a little that you’d kept him at arm’s length for so long.

Turning from the scenery of the foliage fading into the cityscape of New York, you ran your eyes over Ari’s profile. His expression was easy, relaxed and open, the hint of a smile on his face. You’d thought he just always looked like that, but you realized it was because he was with you. 

Reaching across the center console, you scooped up Ari’s hand and laced your fingers through his before settling your joined hands on your thigh. He glanced at you, shooting you a quick smile and squeezing your fingers, before turning back to the road.

By the time the car pulled into the underground parking garage of the high-rise on the Upper West Side where Ari lived, you were resolved to try to let your guard down a little more around him. Ari had shown you he could be trusted with your heart just as much as your body, and you were determined to show him you trusted him with all of you. 

Still, it was a little intimidating walking into his apartment for the first time, the anxiety that he was only bringing you there because he wanted something from you—something you didn’t want to give—was a knot in your stomach. But then you looked at Ari and you realized he’d never do that to you. He was bringing you to his home because he wanted to, not because he wanted something from you. 

Ari’s penthouse was warm and cozy, decorated in dark brown wood and warm golden tones, with hints of blue that reminded you of the ocean. You realized you knew Ari was a fan of the beach, because so many of the trips he’d taken you on had been close to the water. Walking into his home felt like walking into a reflection of his heart, and you didn’t take that for granted.

After setting down the apples on a table next to the door and stepping out of your shoes, Ari took you on a tour of his apartment, both the upstairs and the downstairs (because it was big enough to have two floors!). He showed you every room, including his bedroom and his study, tugging you into each by your joined hands when you seemed hesitant to enter his spaces.

Ari left the kitchen for last, but the two of you lingered in the living room, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Central Park. Ari wrapped his arms around you from behind, swaying you lightly from side to side, almost like you were dancing. 

“You have a beautiful home, Ari,” you said, looking out over the city and appreciating the way the buildings and treetops were cast in the warm, yellow glow of afternoon sunshine. An errant thought crossed your mind, that you could get used to the view from Ari’s apartment. It was stunning.

“Thank you, honey,” Ari murmured, dropping a kiss to the base of your throat while his arms squeezed you tighter. He buried his face in your neck, so his words were a little muffled when he said, “I always hoped you’d like it enough to want to come over again and… again.”

You could hear in the pause of his words where he’d stopped himself from saying something different, and you wondered over it. But you knew yourself well enough not to ask. If just walking into his apartment felt like a big step, you knew asking him what he’d meant to say might spook you a bit too much, and you didn’t want that. So you just hummed in response.

Ari chuckled, like he somehow knew it was taking effort for you to be in his apartment, and he thought it was cute how difficult it was for you. His mouth trailed up your neck, effectively distracting you from your thoughts, before nipping at the edge of your jaw. 

“Want to see the kitchen now?” 

Nodding so eagerly, you nearly head-butted him, you turned in his hold and looked up at him with expectant eyes. Ari gave you an affectionate smile, then grabbed your hand and led the way to the kitchen.

He’d saved it for last, and when you stepped inside, you understood why. A gasp slipped from your lips as you took in the beautiful space. The color scheme of the apartment carried over to the kitchen, with dark brown cabinets and lighter wood countertops. There was a pop of blue in the backsplash, and all kinds of expensive gadgetry. 

You were so busy taking everything in, it took you a moment to spot the brand-new stand mixer sitting on the counter in a color that matched the rest of the room. Beside it were some of the ingredients you’d need for the apple crisp cheesecake you’d told Ari you wanted to make and you realized his assistant must’ve already come and gone. 

Walking over and running your fingers over the sleek mixer, tears welled up in your eyes. It took effort to blink them away, and you shook your head slightly at yourself. It seemed silly to be crying over a stand mixer, but it felt bigger than that, like it was a sign of Ari making room in his life for you. He wanted you there, he wanted to keep you, like you’d begged him to. 

“Everything ok, honey?” Ari asked, coming to stand behind you, but not touching you, giving you some space while you processed everything you’d realized that day.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice thick, no doubt giving away the emotion you were feeling. Before you could overthink it, you spun around and threw your arms around Ari’s shoulders, launching yourself at him for a tight hug. “You bought a mixer,” you stated, as if that was explanation enough. 

A soft laugh rumbled in Ari’s chest and he swept a hand down your spine, comforting you while a few tears leaked down your cheeks and into the collar of his denim shirt.

“Well, yeah,” he responded good-naturedly, a smile in his voice. “I did say I wanted you to want to come back, didn’t I?” 

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, laughing a little at his comment. Then you murmured, in a small voice, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Ari said, sounding genuine. 

For a long moment, you hugged him, and then you pulled away, swiping at your cheeks to clear away any tears or makeup. 

“Is the offer still open to bake while wearing only your shirt?” you asked, tipping your head back to smile shyly at Ari while your fingers played with the collar of his button-up.  

A grin spread across his face while shrugged out of the denim shirt. Then, to your surprise, he yanked his t-shirt off over his head, asking you which one you wanted. 

You took the denim one with fumbling fingers, your eyes raking over his bare chest while warmth bloomed deep in your core. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Ari shirtless, of course, but you never got tired of looking at the expanse of his golden skin, dusted with dark brown hair that you wanted to rake your nails through. 

Ari let you look for a moment, using your distraction to help you slip out of your dress. Then he eased your arms into the denim shirt and buttoned it up, his big hands pausing briefly to grope your soft body every few moments. 

There was a glimmer of deep satisfaction in his blue eyes when he stepped back to look at you in his shirt. 

“Mm, you look so pretty, honey,” he rasped, taking one last look before crowding you into the counter at your back. His gaze darkened as he stared down at you, his grin turning wolfish when he rumbled, “I think I need a snack before you start baking.”

That was your only warning. You shrieked with surprised laughter when Ari hauled you back into the living room and tossed you down on one of his leather couches. Your giggles cut off abruptly in a moan when Ari descended on you, burying his face between your thighs and feasting on you like he was starving.

Your fingers twisted in Ari’s brown hair while he ate your pussy, encouraging you to scream your pleasure in the comfort of his home while he made you come against his mouth. You shattered apart with a loud cry while he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth greedily devouring your release, and the come he’d buried inside you earlier, like he hadn’t eaten in days. 

When he finally pulled away, Ari’s beard was soaked in your juices and he grinned up your body while you lay limply on the couch, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Chuckling at the sight of you sprawled out on his couch, Ari pressed wet kisses to the inside of your thighs, licking the traces of your release from your skin.

“Fuck, honey, I can’t get enough of you,” he rumbled, his big hands kneading your plush thighs and hips, proving his point since it seemed like he couldn’t stop touching you. The blatant need and desire in his voice sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“If you keep going, I won’t have the strength to bake,” you warned him in a breathless voice, managing to lift your head enough to give him a stern look. 

Ari laughed into your thigh, pressing one last kiss to your skin before he raised up and gave you a wink. “Can’t have that,” he quipped, grabbing your hands and helping you up off the couch. You stumbled a little, your legs weak from your orgasm, but Ari caught you easily, wrapping his arm around your waist while he led you into the kitchen. 

Once you were propped up against the counter near the stand mixer, Ari left to retrieve the apples from the entryway. When he returned, you noticed he carried a pair of slippers that matched the ones he’d put on. Without saying a word, he set them on the floor next to your bare feet and carried on to start washing the fruit in the sink. 

You stepped into the slippers, your heart warming when you realized they were a perfect fit. For a long moment, you stared at Ari’s bare shoulders and broad back, wondering how you’d ever kept such a thoughtful man at arm’s length. Well, you decided, once again, you wouldn’t be doing that anymore. 

Turning back to the stand mixer and the ingredients, you organized everything on the counter, going to the fridge to pull out everything else you’d need. 

To your surprise, you and Ari worked well together in the kitchen. Once he was done cleaning all the apples you’d picked, he asked what he could do next, and you put him to work peeling and coring the fruit while you worked on the other elements of the cheesecake. 

When it came time to bake, Ari took the pan from your hands and popped it into the oven while you set a timer. Tension crackled between the two of you after the oven had snapped closed, and you came together in a flurry of limbs. Ari guided you back into the living room while he kissed you, his hands making quick work of removing all your remaining clothes.

You rode Ari to another orgasm while the sweet treat baked, the golden glow of the New York City sunset keeping the apartment awash in warm hues that made you feel cozy—like you were home. 

Once you were both sated, you collapsed on top of Ari’s chest, burying your face in his neck and nuzzling into his beard. You inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, vetiver and leather, with a little bit of cinnamon from baking, and melted against him. You wanted to breathe in nothing but that scent for the rest of your life—and you refused to let that thought scare you.

Ari pulled a flannel blanket off of the back of his couch and wrapped it around you both, your pussy keeping his cock warm while you cuddled together until the timer went off. 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched Ari take the baking pan out of the oven wearing only an oven mitt on his hand. You, meanwhile, stood off to the side with the flannel blanket wrapped around your shoulders. He’d told you the blanket was highly flammable and insisted you stay clear of the oven with a stern look that made your insides go all gooey.

The two of you made out in the kitchen and made dinner while the cheesecake cooled. All the while, you kept thinking how easy it was to be with Ari, how you could see what your life would be like together. And you liked how it looked. You liked kissing him whenever you wanted and asking him about what movies he liked and what was the last book he read.

After dinner, you ate a slice of cheesecake together, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Ari’s face, enjoying every little groan and expression of pleasure he made. It was erotic enough that you left the last bite for him, getting to your feet to walk around the table and straddle his lap. 

He fucked you to another, blisteringly hot orgasm, and laughed only a little when you fell against his chest with an exhausted, but satisfied, sigh. 

In a soft voice, Ari asked if you’d stay the night, and the hope in his tone made your heart warm enough that you ignored the brief flicker of anxiety the question prompted. You shushed the worry inside you and said yes. 

Together, you cleaned up the kitchen and then Ari led you upstairs to the bedroom, pausing every few minutes to kiss you, like he wanted to remind himself you were still there. 

He gave you some of his clothes to wear to bed and showed you where everything was in his bathroom. You couldn’t help but notice that he had all of your favorite products, and a spare toothbrush for you. You smiled as you got ready for bed and slipped under the covers with him.

“Did you have a good day, honey?” Ari asked, pulling you into his body and wrapping you up in his arms. You were wearing one of his t-shirts—a clean one—while he had on a pair of boxer briefs. You hummed happily when your legs tangled together, enjoying the feel of his warm skin and tickling hair against you. 

“Mm, I had the best day, Ari,” you murmured sleepily, the comfort and warmth of his bed making it easy to let your exhaustion creep in. “Kiss,” you said, turning your head and repeating the greeting Ari had given you when he’d picked you up.

Your sugar daddy chuckled, the sound rumbling down your spine and making your heart flutter with delight. Your eyes were already closed, but you could feel his smile when he pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. 

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll still be here in the morning,” he promised, his words assuaging a fear you hadn’t realized you’d felt, and you sighed in contentment.

Everything had changed between you and Ari, and you couldn’t help but think it was for the better. You were still a little anxious about opening yourself up to someone, especially a sugar daddy, but Ari had shown you that you could trust him—really trust him, with all your heart—and you were determined to do just that.

“G’night, Ari,” you whispered into the pillow that smelled like him, a hint of a smile in the curve of your mouth as sleep claimed you. 

“Good night, honey,” Ari crooned in your ear, his voice gentle and soft and oh so affectionate. “My sweet, sweet honeycrisp.”

[mrsbarnesblog]

Hi girlie! Can you write something about baby daddy Rafe? Set in a FWB universe and reader ends up pregnant because he loves c*ming inside her? Love your works they keep me up at night in the best way 🤭🤍

masterlist

requests are open

word count: 0.9k

warnings: smut at the beginning, unprotected sex, fwb (kinda?)

a/n: hey, love❤️ i wasn't sure whether you wanted them to end up together or not, so i made something in between. i got inspired and wrote another part for this one which i may post later, but i'm open to changing/adding something if y'all have any ideas.

“Rafe… we shouldn’t do this— ah, fuck, please!” You cried out, your back arching from the bed, seeking more attention from his lips to your sensitive nipples. 

“I can’t stop. It’s gonna be okay, just one time, baby.” He grumbled, sucking in your skin. Rafe was pounding into your poor body without any mercy; he was too excited to be bare inside of you for the first time. 

When you came to his place, you two quickly found out that you ran out of condoms that were usually stacked on his bedside table, but you were too far gone to stop it. You were naked, your pussy was leaking with arousal, his dick was so painfully hard and it was hard to think straight. You didn’t want to stop and Rafe managed to convince you to let him fuck you raw. 

You knew how fucking stupid you were and that he might easily get you pregnant, but at that exact moment, the only thing on your mind was the feeling of his bare cock. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby. I wanna cum inside of your pretty pussy. Shit—you're squeezing me so hard, you like this idea, hm?” He kept slapping his hips against yours harder and harder, causing you to moan in despair and grip his shoulders. You tried to say no, but, in all honesty, you didn’t want to. The stretch was so delicious, and the feeling of his cock filling you completely made you feel dizzy. And having him cum inside? You could have an orgasm just thinking about it. 

No more than thirty seconds later, when you finally reached your height, his cock twitched inside and Rafe let out the sexiest moan you’ve ever heard. You felt liquid warmth covering your inside and moaned, squeezing and milking everything he could have you. 

You were playing with fire and it was just a matter of time before everything would go wrong. No matter how stupid and reckless it was, you didn’t stop. Rafe was now obsessed with the feeling of being inside of you without a barrier; he could not help himself when he had you spread out in front of him, ready to be filled. 

It was the best feeling that both of you experienced, but for some reason, you didn’t even try to find another form of contraception. You should have known better. You should have insisted on protection, but there was something intoxicating about the way he took you—the way he groaned your name as he filled you up. It was reckless, dangerous, and oh-so-addictive.

So it was not that big of a surprise when, just two months later, you saw two lines on the test. 

You weren’t dating, even if it has always felt like much more than just sex, so you never expected Rafe to be happy about the possibility of having a baby. You thought he would end everything immediately and simply run away. Yet he was the complete opposite. 

During your pregnancy, Rafe never left your side and made sure to attend every medical appointment, buy every single vitamin and satisfy all of your cravings.

You wanted to eat some weird shit from the store at 2am? He brought it to you in less than twenty minutes. Your body was aching and you didn’t want to do anything? He organised a spa day for you. You had terrible mood swings and cried every ten minutes? He was patient and he did everything he could to make you feel better. 

You quickly fell into that kind of domestic routine. It was comfortable, and it felt right to have him beside you all the time. While your baby was growing inside of you, you both realised more with every passing day that the feelings that you two had were serious. Because you were on each other’s mind’s 24/7, you stayed in yours or his place all the time, and you couldn’t just keep your hands away. 

When Rafe first felt your baby kick, he was over the moon and he had the biggest smile on his face. He repeatedly kissed your belly before falling asleep with his head on your thighs and his hand on your bump. 

As soon as your little girl arrived in the world, Rafe completely fell into daddy mode. He was fussing over her, insisting on spending as much time with her as possible. He never complained when he had to change her diapers or wake up in the middle of the night because of her cries.

He is such a girl dad, and the moment she looked at him with her blue eyes, he was wrapped around her tiny finger. 

Rafe loves being a dad; he loves taking care of his girls, even if you are still not officially his. He makes sure to do everything to make you feel comfortable and give you enough rest. 

He may not be perfect in it, but he’s trying his best and he hasn’t regretted ever getting into this with you. 

[cvnt4him]

how big do you think izu’s cock is.?👀

Woof. Idk if people would agree w me but if I'm going down it's w my very good and correct opinion/j😞

I think zuzus cock is more girthy than it is long.

I feel as if he might be maybe 6.5 inches when hard, I don't feel like he's ultimately the biggest in the bunch.

He has a fat cock fr, def one of the thickest there is

Izuku cums A LOT and it spurts out really quickly, long planks of white seed just shooting from his cock. He has hyperspermia gang

Me thinks he gets excited over anything, hand holding, cheek kisses, when he's too cold?? His cock just gets hard

Sometimes he can be looking at someone, ochako, iida, katsuki, you, it doesn't matter, and he could be admiring something about the person and randomly get hard. He ends up feeling so filthy.

His fav way to jack his stack is laying down legs spread head thrown back probably completely naked. He doesn't need lube or lotion bc he has a lot of precum so yeah!

He def can cum more than once, sometimes it's unintentional.

Pillow humper👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽

He gets off to smell, I feel like when someone smells REALLY nice it just makes his cock twitch.

He is so messy, he hates the clean up afterwards but he loves the filth, just lying in his dirty mess completely covered in his own cum. That's izuku to a T man he's a fucking perv I'm sorry

Def has jerked off to you like if y'all are texting n you send a vm he's def whimpering in his pillow w his phone in his ear. He wouldn't be able to face you the next day

Moans like a whore [I need to tell y'all shit y'all don't know 💀💀]

I see a lot of people say given how shy and flustered he is that he doesn't watch porn and wouldn't be very experienced I beg to differ, I really wholeheartedly believe he is an undercover perv, like he js don't get caught bc people see him as a softy, y'all are failing a victim to his spell gang, he knows what hes doing trust

w that being said ↑, I think he watches a lot of porn and almost got caught jacking off once, he promised iida he'd study w him but forgot n iida knocked at the door while he was close, he came the second iida asked "midoriya are you there?" Again, he felt so shitty n could hardly face him

AN: I just finished this so yeah, it's short and kind of stupid but yeah! So like yeah!!!! Uhm idk if yall can tell but I'm really getting back into writing these stupid little shits Ive said it in my last posts 💀💀 but anyways drop more reqs gang!!!!

Btw college AU even though nothing is really specified, it's js NSFW headcanons!!

I miss this theme ngl I might have to drop my whole pretty purple shit bc why is this lowk fire⁉️🔥🔥

[coucouatoi]

take it as a compliment | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Warnings: smoking, swearing, light angst, making out

A/N: Got a request for Outgoing Harry/Shy reader and then this happened. I'm actually so in love with this so I hope y'all enjoy :)

Summary: Your band is out of a main singer after a petty feud. The hunt for someone new is pure torture, not a single audition has peaked your interests. None until he walked in.

"Next!!" your band's drummer, Maeve, exclaims with an exasperated tone. The person who was auditioning scurries off the small stage, too embarrassed to say goodbye. They were the 10th person to audition today. Ten people have gone on stage and tried to show off their singing skills but no one has been even remotely close to good. You're starting to suspect that all of these people are pranking you. There's no way that this many people are tone-deaf... Right?

You look back up when you see someone new walking on stage. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see who's next to audition. Harry Styles, the myth, the legend. He's a star member of the swimming team, captain of the rugby team, honorary member of the debate team and the most sought-after guy at your university. He is probably the last person you expected to show up for your band's audition... You don't even know if he can sing.

"This is going to be hilariously, so happy we are filming" Riu, your band's bassist, chuckles under his breath. You shrug with a small smirk, guess he wants to join today's humiliating compilation of failed auditions.

"Hello everyone, I'm Harry Styles auditioning for lead singer? I guess" he laughs at himself, now this is something you've never seen... a nervous Harry? Could this be an act??

"Don't sound too excited now" Maeve rolls her eyes, "What are you going to sing?" she clicks her pen ready to write the title down.

"October by Broken Bells" he speaks more confidently into the mic now. Your eyebrows raise, shocked. You would have expected something a little more mainstream maybe something currently in the top 10 chart or even an old classic. Riu presses the record button on his camera and rearranges the tripod to better capture Harry.

"Whenever you're ready," You say softly as you hope for the best, your behind is really starting to hurt after sitting for so long hopefully you can leave the auditorium soon.

The man onstage takes a deep breath before pressing play on the acoustic track on his phone.

Soft guitar strings start playing and only a few seconds in Harry starts harmonising with the instrument before the lyrics come in. And when they do... Your jaw hits the floor. The voice that comes out of his mouth would have been impossible to imagine. It's not a very vocally powerful song but requires a certain knowledge of music to get it right. He sounds beautiful and enchanting.

Riu, who's sitting next to you, shakes your arm making you turn your head to him. He mouths "What the fuck?" and you only nod as an answer completely bewildered.

He doesn't move around the stage or anything, just stands in the same spot and sings. Sings better than anyone you've heard today. Better than your past lead singer you're sure. His eyes are shut in what you have to assume is concentration but he could just be too nervous to look at you and your bandmates. His dark hair is pushed back out of his face letting you see his features, his furrowed brows and the sheen of sweat on the tip of his nose.

The song ends and he finally opens his eyes, gagging your reactions. You make sure that you've closed your mouth not wanting one of the first times he really looks at you for your mouth to be wide open...

"Do you write your own songs?" Maeve breaks the silence.

"I have some written yes" he answers quickly, a small jitter going through his body. Excited that he wasn't immediately shooed off stage.

"Is this a serious audition or are you just joking around?" Riu then asks having had enough of this long and boring day.

"Serious, I love singing" he nods quickly, "And I think I'm pretty good at it" Ah! There's the cocky attitude you've gotten used to from him.

Maeve grabs your arms from across the table tugging you towards her, Riu in the middle simply lowers his head closer to hear what's about to be said.

"What do you think?" She asks looking deeply into your eyes. You nod before answering already conveying your approval.

"He's really good guys, winning the UK universities competition good" You definitely see him adding a lot to your group. He's got the charms, the voice and the confidence to get you all the way to the finals.

"We're really accepting Harry Styles into our band?" Riu sounds annoyed but you know that he approves of this choice too...

Here goes nothing.

-

It's officially been two weeks since Harry has become your lead singer and he has not been on time for any of your practices. He's always got some elaborate excuse explaining his tardiness. More often than not he demands multiple breaks to go out for a smoke "Helps the vocals ya know?" he laughs before leaving the room. Maeve is one hair off of kicking him straight out but you've unfortunately entered his name down for the UK competition... and Harry knows this. Both of your other members have tried to reason with him, without success so they've told you that it's your turn to try, and try you will.

There's one hour left and Harry is out on another smoking break you choose this time to go out and attempt to talk to him. You haven't had many one-on-one conversations with him since him joining you. You're still intimidated by his status, his popularity, his reputation, his looks...

After leaving your guitar behind, you head out to find him leaning against the brick wall of your school, his head is tipped up and cigarette hanging off his bottom lip. You take a deep breath before walking up to him, mentally preparing yourself for this conversation.

"Is it your turn to tell me about the importance of punctuality, darling?" his lips form into a smirk as he hears your thick heels crunch the gravel as you move towards him.

"I guess so, the other two didn't work" you shrug leaning on the wall next to him. "Why did you audition if you don't care?" you ask him in a hushed tone, still surprised you have to have a conversation like this with him.

You don't see it but Harry's body tenses. Guilt flows through his veins and he looks at you but you're looking at the ground.

"I do care" is what he answers.

"I'm sorry but I don't believe you" You shake your head and finally meet his gaze, "Are you late for any other extracurricular activity you're part of?" your tone is unbothered but Harry feels it sting him, as if you insulted him... maybe you did. He thinks about it and... well he's not. He prides himself on being a stellar member of everything he's a part of.

"Why don't you treat us like equals? We are all part of the same team here" you add with a tilt of your head actually curious for an answer.

"I... Look, our other two members treat me like I'm lower because of how I act and who I'm friends with" he plucks the cigarette out of his mouth and stomps it under his shoe. He runs his hands through his hair and sighs, "I've gathered that you're the reserved quiet type but not one of you has tried to get to know me, why should I make an effort when none of you want me here?" with how rapidly the words are leaving his mouth you know he's been holding all of this in. You're stunned to silence.

"I don't feel welcomed so I'm not making an effort anymore" he walks away from you and from the building, "I tried to mend the gap by inviting all three of you over to my mates party last week and none of you showed... my message was left on read in the group chat" he looks at you and you don't see any malice or anger just... sadness? Disappointed? You're not sure.

His confession pains your fragile heart. He was trying, he had tried and your bandmates and yourself had only damaged the already non-existent relationship.

"I've never been to a party, I'm not great in crowds" you try explaining, "I barely even make it through our gigs, I'm always the first to go home" Harry nods in understanding, grabbing another cigarette from the packet he has in his pocket and lights it.

"Still could have said something... I know Maeve and Riu hate me so I guess there's not much I can do about that" he shrugs as he takes a drag. He's trying to brush off the emotions he just let himself have in front of you.

"I should have, I'm sorry" you mumble your apology still shocked that you've managed to get this far.

It's quiet for a few minutes. Harry focused on finishing his cigarette, seemingly needing to ease the tension he felt.

"I'll be better about my tardiness," he says after a while. You nod, smiling slightly when he looks over at you.

"Let me know when your next party is, I'll try and go" you offer, a peace offering between you and him. He laughs and shakes his head.

"Sure, darling" he stomps his second cigarette out and walks back over to you "Won't invite those two losers tho" he smirks at you before walking back into the building. You roll your eyes with a laugh and follow him back inside.

-

Harry S

10 Pleasing Road, Tomorrow 9 pm

See you there?

You

What should I wear? Should I bring anything? How many people are going?

Harry S

Whatever you're comfortable in, nope just yourself ;) And about 20 people nothing crazy

You

Okay, see ya

-

Oh god. You have no idea what to wear and you can't possibly ask Maeve or Riu for advice they'd need to know what you're dressing up for. You've been procrastinating your outfit choice all day. Your makeup is done dark and mysterious just how you like, your hair is up and out of your neck predicting that it'll be too warm wherever you're going but you're only wearing underwear... a matching set sure but not an appropriate outfit for a public outing.

You look at the time on your phone and your breath hitches, you're already past your maximum departure time... you're going to be late. This is not good. You contemplate texting Harry and telling him you can't make it but you want to have a better relationship with him you want to make an effort.

You find a long dark red floral dress that you haven't worn in forever and decide that tonight it will stop gathering dust. There is a slight chill in the outside air so you grab the crochet bolero Riu made you for your birthday. It's black with a ladybug charm in the center of it, she lands perfectly in your cleavage. You rush out of your room and out of your shared flat with Maeve before she starts asking questions. You slipped on your go-to heeled boots before running out of the building.

The address Harry sent you is, surprisingly, only a 15-minute walk away from where you live. Keeping a rapid pace is all you're focused on so you can make it with as little delay as you can. Being late gets your anxious gears running like crazy, your internal and external clock always chanting "Early is on time, on time is late and late is unacceptable!". You can thank your mother for that one.

You make it to the one-story townhouse at 9:28, you hear music from the outside and a few cars parked in the driveway and on the sides of the roads.

You breathe in and out deeply as you make your way to the door, calming your heartbeat and yourself. This is your first uni party, the first party that isn't family or Maeve/Riu related. Your first big girl party. It's nerve-wracking but also a little exciting.

As you're about to knock you realize the door is already ajar, you don't overthink it and head inside.

Turns out Harry had been pretty spot on with the number of people at this gathering. Doing a quick scan of the living room, after going through the small entrance, most people are sitting down, drinking and smoking different things. Only a few people look your way but they go back to their original conversations quickly, unbothered by another presence. You spot a table filled with different liquor bottles and mixers and make a beeline for it. Before you start mixing a drink for yourself someone calls out your name.

"You made it!" you turn your head and spot Harry making his way towards you. He's all smiles and bright eyes, he's got a beer in his hand and a cigarette in the other.

"I did, sorry I'm late" you grimace thinking about it again.

"Pff, no one's on time at a party" he waves it off before taking a drag, he blows it out away from your face and looks down at the empty cup in your hand.

"Why isn't there a drink in your hand, darling?" he asks you in mock shock. You shrug and gesture to the table, "I don't know what to make"

He nods and asks for your go-to spirit. Once you tell him he starts making a mix, only using the one liquor, finishing it off with a scoop of ice and a straw.

"Voila!" he winks as he hands you the now full cup. You take a sip and hum appreciatively.

"This is really good thank you" you smile in gratitude. Any worries that have been clawing at you since the moment you accepted to come are slowly disappearing. Harry seems genuinely pleased that you've shown up and that makes the overwhelming feeling large crowds give you dissipate. You should be able to stay like this for a while now.

"You look really nice, darling, I love your style" he lifts himself onto a stool, carefully not to spill his drink or drop his cigarette.

You can feel heat crawl up your neck and onto your face, not used to getting compliments. It's not that you haven't dated or hooked up with people but it's not something that just happens. Flirting requires a lot of energy from you, you're quick to feel embarrassed and shut yourself out just to process it all. Not that you think Harry is flirting or trying to get with you, he's just a socialite who's not shy to say what he's thinking.

"Just threw on whatever" you shrug avoiding his gaze.

"I'm sure that's an understatement but nonetheless you look gorgeous" he winks as he takes one last long drag before putting out the cigarette in the ashtray next to him and then throwing it into a trash can.

He's quite captivating to watch; his eyes are dark, an attractive smirk is always present, and wavy hair moves around with him and his tattoos. God his tattoos! You knew he had loads just by having seen his arms but now his button-down is pretty much unbuttoned at this point. You see many more that you never knew existed and it's only making him more handsome. The butterfly on his sternum, the two swallows beneath his collarbones, the fern leaves peeking out of his jeans; a very dangerous and tempting combination. You'll let your imagination run wild later...

"Mh, so um what does one usually do at a party?" Ah yes, a very natural change in conversation! You go Y/N, you mentally mock yourself with a subtle shake of your head. Harry doesn't seem to mind the switch or notice your mental scolding because he answers truthfully.

"Depends what you're up to doing honestly, I know someone has weed somewhere so you can join the stoners..." you shake your head, not your vibe. "You can dance in the basement that's where the music is playing and people are grinding" You shrug at that option not completely opposed to it. "Or you could go in the yard and join one of the many drinking games happening" That is a good option for later in the evening.

"Take me dancing?" your voice is a little high pitched, not completely confident in yourself but you want to make the most of this. It's not every day you'll be doing this kind of thing.

Harry doesn't answer verbally but he does grab your hand and guides you. His grip isn't tight you could easily free yourself if you wanted to but you want to make it to the dance floor... and holding Harry's hand is quite pleasant.

As he had previously said, the dancing is happening in the basement. This is where you realize Harry is probably the worst counter you've ever met because in this room alone there are at least 30 more people. The space is huge and open; no walls just another makeshift bar, large speakers, some funky lighting and some overused-looking sofas.

Feeling brave you pull Harry towards the other people dancing, and he follows with no hesitation. The beat of the pop song is good and gets your hips moving quickly, you'll never admit it but cheesy pop music is your guilty pleasure. Harry quickly matches your moves, smiling as you dance together he almost looks surprised that you're doing this with him. When you realize you haven't let go of his hand you quickly spin away in a somewhat casual attempt to free yourself, not that the handholding was bad. You just don't want to make him uncomfortable or maybe get anyone he's into at this party to think he's unavailable. The thought of him leaving you right now does make your skin crawl but you focus on dancing back towards him to finish your super duper casual and unnoticed freeing.

"You're a natural, who knows under all that eyeliner and glitter you liked bubblegum pop" Harry jokes as you get close to him again. You laugh and shake your head.

"It's all a distraction, Styles, I'm good at distractions" You wave your hands in front of his face with a spooky witch tone of voice.

"I don't doubt that..." he grabs your hand again and pulls you close to him, careful not to spill either of your drinks.

You feel the heat of his palm travel all the way up your arm and down the other. He's now deliberately taken your hand twice. Twice in the same hour. Hell in the same 5 minutes! God, he's so intoxicating. Your friends would not approve of the thoughts you're having. Riu would scream bloody murder and Maeve... Maeve would never look at you in the eyes again.

You chug the remainder of your drink and toss your empty cup onto a nearby table, you mentally apologize to the person who will pick that up later. Harry follows your lead and places his now free hand on your waist pulling you even closer to him.

"What do you think of the party so far?" he leans into your space even more, softly asking his question right next to your ear. You hum first as you angle yourself towards his own ear to answer.

"Not as crazy as I've seen them in movies or TV shows... but I think I watch too much American television" You laugh at yourself but you quickly still when you feel Harry's lips touch your ear.

"What? You're missing some cheesy games and making out with strangers" he teases you, tightening his hand grip on your waist.

"Something like that yeah, ha" Your breath is quick and uncertain. Overthinking how you're even supposed to breathe normally because you know Harry hears and feels your every breath.

"Mh, let me satisfy your wishes then" he pulls back and winks. "Hey!", he exclaims, "Anyone wanna play truth or dare?" at his question many people cheer affirmatively and he drags you towards one of the couches where everyone else follows suit.

The couch you're now sitting on has obviously been occupied by many other butts and now your own but you try to get that thought out of your head.

"You go first Haz, you initiated" you hear someone with a thick accent say.

"Fine, fine... who wants to ask me?"Harry playfully rolls his eyes as he leans back, his arms splayed across the top of the couch.

"Truth or dare?" someone new calls out.

"Truth let's keep it tame for now" he answers the crowd. You hear some people whisper to each other, debating what question they should ask now that they have free will.

"Did you actually fuck Olivia Flores while she was dating your mate Niall?" a high-pitched voice calls out. Harry rolls his eyes and breathes out deeply.

This rumour had spread all over the school through all clicks and social groups. Olivia was the most beloved student you could think of. She loves speaking with anyone and everyone, she volunteers every other day, and she's never in a bad mood or at least never lets anyone see if she is. The only time that you've ever seen her smile gone was when the rumours started. When everyone was whispering about her cheating on her boyfriend with his best friend. Niall is basically the embodiment of a golden retriever and people took the news of him being cheated on very badly. She denied it endlessly and tried to get people back on her side because her friends ended up turning on her. Harry and Niall both denied the rumours but there was no stopping everyone else from saying what they wanted. Especially after their break up and her decision to switch schools...

"I've said it a million times before, no. Never. I never have and never will because I know how much they still care for each other" he clicks his tongue at the end, annoyed at the question.

Some questions still cross your mind but you decide that his answer is enough. You choose to believe all three of them in this, that their denial is truthful and that Niall and Olivia breaking up after had nothing to do with the rumours.

"Y/N, in honour of your request, truth of dare?" Harry brings your thoughts back to the present, where everyone is now looking at you... analyzing. These people don't know you so you let them watch you even if it makes your skin crawl.

"Dare" might as well go past your boundaries even more. You're getting to know a whole new you tonight, it's exciting.

"Kiss me" he murmurs close to your ear, having leaned into your space. You chuckle pushing him away playfully.

"Come on! Be serious this is my first party game!" you poke his chest with your nail and squint your eyes. He can't just tease you like that! Pfff.

"Serious? You don't think I'm serious" he tilts his head to the side. His expression is unreadable and it makes you question whether he's being a goof right now or if he really wants to kiss you. Why would he want to kiss you out of anyone here?

You roll your eyes and push his face away from you. He looks shocked for a moment before letting a breath out, it almost sounds disappointed... can air sound a certain way? You're definitely overthinking this.

"A real dare please!" you squint your eyes at him in a playful manner. He shakes his head at you with a crooked smile, he's bewildered but you don't know that. You don't know how much he yearns for you right now. How much you attract him or how much it means to him that you're trying. Really trying to know him and make him your friend.

"Fine, I'll settle for the cheek" he winks and points to his right cheek which is inches away from your face.

You assess his expression, he's smirking again obviously happy that his teasing is affecting you. Ever so slightly furrowing his brows in worry that you'll reject that too. So. In honour of your first-ever big girl party, you do it. You kiss his cheek and you play dirty a little bit. Pressing your lips right to the corner of his lips. Right where they merge into the skin of his face.

"There! Now who's next?" you exclaim excitedly turning back to the group of people. A girl you don't know raises her hand and you dare her to do a shot of her least favourite alcohol. She walks off in search of it and your head is turned back towards Harry by a gentle hold on your chin.

"You're such a tease, gorgeous" his voice is soft but rugged almost sounding bothered by something... by someone?

"How so?" your lips form a small smile as you take a sip of your beer, you're conveniently sat next to a cooler full of them.

"You're irresistible" he replies with dark eyes, the hand on your chin moves to your cheek. The tips of his fingers tangling in your hair almost scratching at your scalp.

You don't completely understand how he's saying that about you when he looks the way he does. His hair is falling gorgeously onto his face as he looks at you, his eyes are dark and inviting, lips parted and numerous tattoos still on display.

"What are you going to do about it?" Wow! You're feeling brave tonight good on you! It might be the drinks you've been working at starting to make the anxiety you previously had melt away. Making the nerves calm and the fear of embarrassing yourself much less important.

"What do you want me to do about it?" his lips brush your own as he whispers his answer. You hadn't realized how close you'd gotten to each other; your chest is pressed to his, thighs seemingly glued together at the side, hands holding onto whatever part that isn't yet connected...

Before you can answer and quite possibly take him up on his first dare, your phone rings in your lap. You jump in surprise but Harry's strong yet gentle hold on you doesn't waver, he keeps you close to him. You glance down at the screen and see that Riu is calling you, the terrible selfie he took for his contact picture staring back at you. He has the habit of "stalking" you and Maeve on the Snapchat map, he says it's to make sure you're all in your usual spots. And... well... right now you're definitely not in one of your usual spots.

"Are you going to answer?" Harry asks with a slightly annoyed tone. You look at him again breaking eye contact with Riu's picture. You shake your head and take a deep breath, encouraging yourself. Harry's eyebrow raises in confusion but before anything else can be said you surge forward. You connect your lips to his desperately, forgetting everything else around you.

Harry's hand, the one that was on your cheek, reaches to the back of your head and pulls you closer. Deepening the kiss more than you thought possible. His other hand wraps around your waist and pushes you forward making your chest completely stuck to his. Your hands busy themselves as well, your right one tangles into his curls and your left grabs onto his forearm almost in an attempt to brace yourself. His tongue meets yours making you moan in pleasure. Who knew making out with someone could feel so good?

Harry doesn't stop, not for one second, as if he'd been wishing to do this for a while. He has but you obviously don't know that. He's been interested since his audition, he had seen your band before but never interacted. He always thought you were gorgeous but never had a chance to see if there could be any chemistry between you both. And now? Lord.

Someone around you hollers and it snaps you out of the bubble that surrounds both of you. You jerk away from Harry putting as much distance between you as you're able to on the otherwise cramped sofa.

"You two better go off to somewhere more private before we all need to bleach our eyeballs" The person sitting next to Harry laughs as he nudges him on the arm, shaking both of your bodies against each other. Harry shakes his head and playfully punches the person but you stare at him shocked. Shocked that you were just fully making out with him, shocked that he wanted to make out with you... Shocked that you're kind of wishing it kept going.

When Harry's head turns back towards you, you can't help but meet his gaze. Your own eyes are wide and just now getting back to focus, they had gone hazy with want but you won't admit that to yourself just yet.

"Let me walk you home? I know you have an exam first thing in the morning tomorrow" He asks sincerely, wanting to make sure you don't miss any essential studying you might want to do.

"Um, sure, a party on Wednesday is weird..." You shake your head in thought now just realising that you had completely forgotten about the test.

"Makes hump day less humpy I guess" he shrugs with a teasing smile before standing and helping you up off the sofa.

The walk back to your flat is entertaining. You get to know your new bandmate even more, truly getting to know him as a person. You share about yourself as well not wanting the conversation to seem one-sided. Turns out drinking a little alcohol makes you chatty.

Somehow, your left hand has interlocked with Harry's right one. How and when this happened you're not sure all you know is that you've had a painfully obvious blush on your face and neck ever since. You don't attempt to break the hold because... well... you really don't want to.

"Well, this is me" You turn to face Harry as you speak. You gesture to your complex vaguely still wanting to talk with him.

"Mh, quaint," he says without even looking at the building.

"Guess this is goodnight then" Your lips form into a small pout, disappointed that you have no real excuse to stay around Harry anymore.

"Guess so... I'll see you at practice tomorrow?" his hand tugs you towards him gently, leaving only inches between you. You bite your lip and nod as an answer all words having vanished from your mind. He smirks and bends down to press his lips on yours one more time. This kiss is much different than the one you previously shared, this one is only a short peck barely even qualifies as a kiss. You instinctively follow when he parts from you desperate for a real kiss.

"What's wrong pretty?" he's teasing you and you know it.

"Kiss me properly... leave me regretting coming back home to study instead of staying at yours" There's a sentence you never imagined yourself saying. You're feeling like a completely new you. Maybe it's the liquor in your system but Harry stops the nerves and the overthinking that's always going on in your head. He feels like a breath of fresh air and that is so fucking hot.

Harry doesn't hesitate to reconnect your lips again for a real kiss. He bites and drags your bottom lip towards him you moan at the feeling, quickly wrapping your arms around him to deepen the contact. Your tongue meets his between your mouths, it's not a battle, feels like they've been waiting to reconnect since they parted ways at the party.

"You're so hot Y/N" Harry practically moans out before slamming his lips back against yours.

Kissing someone has truly never felt this good.

-

The exam you only spent about 45 minutes studying for ended up being a total breeze as it was open book. Your nerves had immediately vanished when you'd stepped into the auditorium and read that on the board. But now your nerves are back up as your final period is about to end. Band practice is after this. You'll have to face Harry in front of both of your other friends... who have no idea that you've made out with the new member... twice.

Harry hasn't stopped messaging you all day thanking you for giving him a chance again and asking if he could take you out after practice. You haven't answered yet, every time you try to write one up your fingers word vomit and you end up deleting your drafts. You want to say yes to him but you feel like you might be braver telling him face to face.

When you hear your professor announce that he's dismissing you early you practically jump out of your seat. This could be the perfect opportunity to go see Harry early. He's been done with class for about an hour now and is already at the auditorium waiting so you rush over. You don't take the time to put away your pencil case or your notebook, keeping them in your hands as you make your way.

"Hope you haven't been ghosting me, sweetheart" Harry calls out immediately as you walk into the auditorium. He's lying down on the edge of the stage, a leg hanging off the side with his phone in hand above his head. He doesn't turn to look at you but you can't blame him so you're quick to walk to him ready to explain yourself.

"I wasn't I swear! I just kept overthinking my answers... thought I'd have an easier time answering in person" you tell him as you put down your things on one of the seats.

"Understandable, things can be more complicated to convey through a screen" his answer lifts a weight off of your shoulders. You were so worried he wouldn't understand.

"So, I'm glad you gave me a chance to get to know you" you start, "I know we weren't very welcoming and I'm sorry" You tentatively place your hand on Harry's chest, between both of his pecks.

"It's okay gorgeous, I know it's cause you were just so intimidated by my hot bod" he lightens the mood with his joke and you're so grateful.

"Mh, sure" you tease him with a shake of your head.

He gasps in mock offence batting your hand away from his chest. You laugh at his antics,

already thinking up your next answer. Harry doesn't let the hand that was on him go far grabbing it and tugging you closer to him.

"As for your other texts... I'd really like to go out with you later tonight" Your voice turns very weak at the end of your sentence, shyness taking over. Harry chuckles and tugs you to him again.

"You're so cute, darling" he smiles softly, "I'm glad I didn't scare you off" his free hand reaches out and wraps around your neck to cup your nape. He pulls your face down to his kissing your lips, once, twice, thrice...

"Riu and Maeve are going to be so confused when I tell them" you chuckle. Your friends might actually faint when you tell them you're going on a date with the Harry Styles.

"Let's just let them walk in while we kiss, easy way to announce it," he says with a wink. You smile and bend back down to lock lips... addicted to the way he feels.

"Or, you could write a song about how good kissing me is" you joke as you whip your hair backwards in an attempt to joke. Harry, however, takes your suggestion seriously.

"I've already got five written in my head, six if you kiss me again right now" And who are you to deny helping his creative juices?

You do end up shocking Maeve and Riu with your "very inappropriate spit swapping" Maeve's words, not yours.