#yes i could probably do it myself but also. that requires me to do way more shit on my mum's computer than i really want to do 😭

[spore-galore]

remembering a time in the early 2010s when people would upload speedbuilds of their spore creations and they would have like the most beautiful and upbeat trance music in the background. can we go back to that please

[meezer]

spending this much time and effort and energy working towards a career path I really do not like or want or will ever go into is really taking the wind out of my sails not gonna lie. and making me hate the humanities 😍

[sofiadzzle]

Magnetic Force of a Man

smut 18+ mdni

Pairing: ceo!Jay x worker!Y/N

"Do you know why I require all of my assistants to have Masters degrees?” he asked as he stood up and began to walk slowly around his desk.

"It's because I find educated women incredibly sexy," he said softly, leaning down close to my ear.

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, dom!Jay, impregnation, dirty talk, fingering, pussy fucking, female masturbation, age gap (4 years), exhibitionism, breeding, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 5.4k

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I cursed as I stared down at the tear in my brand new sheer pantyhose. "Run-proof my ass! "

Shaking my head in dismay, I quickly looked around the large underground parking garage, praying to God that no one could see or hear me as I hurriedly positioned myself between my front door and the driver's seat of my beige sedan, hiking my lavender pencil skirt up to my ass, and then slid the ruined pair of hose the rest of the way down my legs.

Thankfully, I packed an extra pair!

I sat down on the side of the car seat and removed my violet high heels, almost like I was pulling out the replacements, taking them from the packing and quickly began slipping my feet inside.

The voice of a man said abruptly, "Yes, that's right."

My breath caught in my throat, I paused and turned to see the source of the voice. I was stunned by what I saw and halted abruptly, my new pantyhose halfway up my legs.

He had a great appearance. He was sitting at least fifty feet away from me, yet I could still see the platinum shine of his watch as he raised his left arm to check the time. He was dressed elegantly in a navy blue suit. His shiny black low-cut hair must have reached at least five eleven" in height.

With a dark satchel clasped in his right hand, he confidently walked towards the elevator labeled "PRIVATE." His broad shoulders, confident gait, and commanding presence evoked the image of a male model seen in GQ publications. His whole demeanor was confident.

I could tell that he was chatting to someone else and not about me or my pantyhose dilemma when a blue light blinked next to his ear. He never even gave me a sidelong glance.

I eventually snapped back to reality as he slid behind one of the pillars and finished pulling on my pantyhose. I tucked my skirt in and put my stilettos back on, eager to begin my first day of training as an executive assistant for Park Industries within the enormous, imposing Park Business building. (It seems the corporation required more than one because it was so large.)

I'd never seen or heard of Jay Park, the CEO of the company, before applying for this job. Even though I had looked him up online, all the pictures I could find of him included him wearing dark sunglasses and hats, which made me think he was probably a very secretive person. It appeared that he would much rather maintain a very low profile than be in the spotlight.

Nothing could have prepared me for the day I visited the Park Building for the first time, even though I had finished an internship at a Fortune 500 corporation close to my college campus.

My first interview had been with a woman named Son Eunsaem. She'd had a highly professional appearance and a no-nonsense attitude. She hadn't smiled once during the interview.

I was surprised when I got a call back for a second interview. That was where I met the other executive assistants. Park Industries had an executive assistant for each and every department in the company, and I had applied to the marketing department.

And I started working on the actual job today. At nine o'clock, I had my official orientation meeting, and then I was meant to meet with Jay Park, the company's CEO.

On their first day of work, all new hires were required to meet with the CEO, who was said to like having face-to-face meetings with each and every one of his staff members. I'll admit that I was anxious, but I was also interested to see this billionaire's true appearance.

The thirty-story building housed the marketing department on its twenty-fifth floor. At the orientation, there was another new hire in addition to me. Ryu Hanbin was his name, and he had been employed in the software department.

At orientation, our ID cards were issued to each of us. We were granted entry to the elevators, break facilities, and exits reserved for employees only. My heart started to race inside my chest as the orientation was coming to a conclusion.

Hanbin and I were taken to a private employee elevator and showed how to use our ID cards to operate it. Jay Park's office was on the top floor, and that's where our orientation leader, a middle-aged woman named Won Chaerin, led us up.

As the elevator door opened at the pinnacle floor, we had been greeted with the aid of using a short, stout, but very neat and well-groomed bald guy with a cleanly-shaven face in a vibrant purple pantsuit.

"Welcome to Park Land,” he stated with a welcoming grin as he reached out to shake our hands. "That's what we name the pinnacle floor, right here." He appeared to laugh after each sentence he spoke. “My call is Jinyoung, however all of us right here calls me Jin.” Another laugh.

What a unusual guy, I thought.

He led us down a hallway that ended with a reception table and a small living room area. There had been high-returned black leather-based chairs and a large flat-display tv withinside the ready area. There additionally regarded to be a bar of a few kind in the back of the reception table.

"Y'all can simply make yourselves comfortable whilst I allow Mr. Park recognize you are right here,” he instructed us with every other laugh earlier than sashaying returned to his spot in the back of the reception table.

"Thank you,” I instructed him as I took a seat in one of the leather-based chairs and crossed my legs.

As I sat ready, my heart commenced to overcome so rapid that it felt like it'd leap up out of my throat at any second. A stolen look over at Hanbin noticed his foot nervously tapping in opposition to the carpeted floor, and I felt relieved that I wasn't the simplest worried individual withinside the room.

A second later, the telephone on Jin's table rang, and he spoke back it on speaker.

"Send Ms. Y/L/N in first,” the voice said in a deep, authoritative tone.

"Right away, sir," Jin answered as he glanced over towards me.

I stood up and accompanied him down but every other lengthy hallway, with stylish artwork lining the partitions and porcelain statues each few feet.

At the quit of the hall, there has been a fancy-searching door with a platinum door knob.

"Knock, knock,” Jin said in a singsong-like voice as he knocked on it twice before turning the knob and pushing it open. “Ms. Y/L/N, meet Mr. Jay Park.”

He waited for me to step inside the large, elaborately decorated office before shutting the door behind me.

I stood there, with my back to the door and my orientation folder in my hand, not sure what to do next. Mr. Park had his head down and was doing something on his phone, but as soon as the door closed, he looked directly up at me, and my jaw almost hit the floor in utter awe.

Jay Park was none other than the sexy, model-esque man who'd been walking through the employee parking garage earlier.

I knew I was staring, but I didn't care. The man was a real-life Adonis.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N. Come. Have a seat.”

It was more of an order than a request, but I didn't mind. He had the most hypnotizing pair of eyes. They were a deep, dark br, and I felt as if I could get lost in them if I stared too long.

He didn't smile, but he didn't frown. He was eyeing me curiously as I made my way over to the chair in front of his huge, rectangular desk. I felt as if he was sizing me up for something... something other than just this job position.

"So, Ms. Y/L/N, you are twenty-four and you have an MS in Business Management. Impressive. What are your plans in the next five years?”

I felt completely on the spot. I cleared my throat before speaking.

"Well, I'm hoping to be working a job I love, maybe get promoted, and start moving up in the ranks."

"Hmm," he said quietly.

I leaned forward a bit and noticed that he had a folder open with my resume, cover letter, and some photos of me inside.

"Do you know why I require all of my assistants to have Masters degrees?” he asked as he stood up and began to walk slowly around his desk.

My heart sped up and began to beat harder than ever. He had removed his suit jacket, and his white silk shirt hugged his toned upper body with flair, accenting the broadness of his shoulders.

I shook my head and swallowed hard as my body temperature began to rise. No man had ever had such a profound effect on me. I could actually feel heat starting to build within my core and a noticeable tingling between my thighs.

He walked around to the back of my chair and stood behind me. My heart was beating a billion beats per minute.

"It's because I find educated women incredibly sexy," he said softly, leaning down close to my ear.

I shuddered at the feel of his breath against my lobe. My body was completely on fire for this man, and he hadn't even touched me. I was at a loss for words.

I wanted to glance up at him, but I was frozen in place like a stone statue, and all I could do was sit there facing forward as I waited to see what was going to happen next. From behind me, I heard him inhale deeply and then exhale slowly.

“Ahh, your perfume is intoxicating, but I sense something else about you, Ms. Y/L/N. You are in your prime,” he stated sensuously, his voice barely more than a whisper.

His lips were so close to my neck that his breath felt hot against my skin. It caused a shiver to run down my spine, and I had to muster every ounce of strength to keep a moan from escaping my lips.

Then, suddenly, he stood straight up and walked back around to the other side of his desk, and his demeanor had returned to a strictly professional one.

"Mrs. Son was quite impressed with you and spoke very highly of your interview," he said plainly as he sat back down in his chair.

"Really? Wow," I replied.

"You sound surprised," he said with a slight grin. "I know she can come across as somewhat ‘rigid, but it's all just part of how she does her job. She's extremely professional and would make an excellent poker player, no doubt.”

He chuckled slightly at his comment, and I uttered a small giggle as well.

"Well, I'm certain you'll be a definite asset to Park Industries, Ms. Y/L/N. Welcome to the team,” he said with a smile.

His smile revealed a set of the most perfect pearly whites I had ever seen up close. While staring at them, I almost missed the fact that he'd also extended his hand to me.

"Thank you, Mr. Park,” I said nervously, returning his smile with one of my own.

"You have a lovely smile, Ms. Y/L/N," he stated softly, still holding onto my hand after I'd stopped shaking it.

“Thanks,” I said coyly, tearing my eyes away from his before I became completely lost in them.

He ran his thumb slowly across the side of my hand before finally letting it go. That small, simple touch from him only added more fuel to the fire that was already building in my loins.

“Ms. Y/L/N? ”He called out to me just as I was about to leave his office.

"Yes?" I replied, turning around to look at him one more time.

"I'm having a small meeting this evening at the Italy Garden restaurant. The dress code is semi-formal. Can you be ready by 7:00?”

"Uhh, yes. Certainly, Mr. Park,” I replied, caught completely off guard.

"Great. I'll send a car to your place at 7:00, then.”

I left his office feeling flustered in more ways than one. It had been more than a year since I'd last had sex, and my attraction to Mr. Park was anything but subtle. He had a magnetic effect on me, one that I knew I was incapable of fighting.

I walked swiftly down the hall, past the small lounge where Hanbin was still seated, and into the ladies' restroom directly adjacent to Jin's reception desk. Breathing hard, I went into one of the stalls, set my folder down on the back of the commode, hiked my skirt up to my waist, and yanked my pants down to my thighs.

Panting like an animal in heat, I sat down on the seat and spread my legs.

"Mmm," I muttered as I closed my eyes and placed my right hand on the crotch of my thin satin pants.

Yanking my pants to the side, I exposed my moist, partially-swollen bud and began to massage it. Another moan escaped my lips as I bucked my hips and rubbed my pussy faster and harder.

I imagined that Mr. Park was in the bathroom stall with me and that he had pulled my pants to the side. It was his lips and tongue against my throbbing, swollen bulb, causing sighs and moans of delight to escape my mouth and sending me into a frenzy of pleasure.

“Ohhh,” I murmured softly as I pictured him rubbing the head of his hard, pulsating cock against my slick, hot slit.

I imagined his hands grabbing my ass cheeks and squeezing them hard in a fit of primal, uncontrollable passion. I pictured him entering me slowly at first, until his rock-hard dick was deep inside my pussy, stretching me to the limit.

"Fuuuck," I whispered as I plunged my fingers as deep into my warm, wet tunnel as they would go. "Yesss! Fuck me, Mr. Park!"

I imagined his cock moving in and out of me, faster and harder, fucking like wild animals as we both got closer and closer to our climaxes. Completely and totally engulfed in how unbelievably good the sex felt, neither one of us even cared that we were fucking unprotected.

"I want you to cum inside me, Mr. Park,” I imagined telling him. “Oh fuck, yessss! Cum in my pussy! Fill me up with your cum."

I didn't even care if I got pregnant or not; I just needed to feel his hot cum inside of me.

I was right on the brink of my orgasm, and I could already tell it was going to be a really good one. As I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from crying out in pleasure, I pictured myself biting down on Mr. Park's ear to stifle my passion-filled moans.

My legs began to shake, and my hips bucked uncontrollably as a powerful climax wracked my entire body. I imagined Mr. Park squeezing my ass cheeks hard as his cock squirted into my cunt, filling me to the brim.

"Ohhh," I whispered, uttering a sigh of satisfaction as my orgasm began to wane.

After taking a moment to enjoy the afterglow, I quickly cleaned myself up, left the restroom, and headed back down to the 25th floor to finish out my workday.

I had just finished putting on my makeup when I noticed it was 6:45. The dress I had selected for tonight's meeting was a long, form-fitting silver cocktail gown I'd bought last spring. It was elegant, with a touch of sex appeal. The back dipped below the waist, and the front wrapped around the neck.

At 6:54, I heard a horn blow outside of my apartment. I slid into a pair of silver stiletto sandals, grabbed a small silver purse, and headed outside.

"Wow!" I exclaimed when I saw the pearly white stretch limousine waiting at the curb.

A tuxedo-clad chauffer opened my door for me and helped me into the back seat.

The inside of the limousine was immaculate! There was a fully-stocked bar with liquor, wine, and champagne. There were wine glasses on a glass shelf next to the bar. There was also a small fridge with fruits, cheeses, and other exotic-looking snack foods.

I helped myself to a glass of champagne and turned on the satellite radio to listen to on the way to the restaurant.

When we arrived about twenty minutes later, the chauffeur helped me out of the limo, and I walked inside. An older male host in a black and white suit was standing at a podium near the entrance.

"Good evening, Madam. Welcome to the Italy Garden restaurant. Do you have a reservation?” he asked.

“Umm, yes. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I'm here for a dinner meeting with Mr. Jay Park,” I replied anxiously, trying hard to hide how nervous I truly was.

The five-star dining facility was way out of my league and price range. I had never been in a place so upscale and fancy. There were scores of expensive-looking pictures hanging on the walls and exquisite artifacts and statues in and around the corners.

I followed the host to a luxurious VIP balcony area where Jay Park was already seated and waiting for me.

"You look amazing, Ms. Y/L/N," he said, flashing that billion-dollar smile that made me want to melt right where I stood.

"Thank you," I replied shyly, returning a smile his way.

The host pulled out my chair, and I sat down.

"I've taken the liberty to order us a bottle of the finest champagne this place has to offer,” he told me with a grin. “What are you in the mood for?”

I couldn't pronounce a single dish on the menu.

"I'll have whatever you're having," I said softly, closing my menu and setting it to the side. I didn't want to risk embarrassing myself in front of our waiter.

"This champagne is delightful," I exclaimed before taking another sip.

"Only the best for a woman as perfect as you, Y/N," Jay stated sweetly.

It was the first time he'd ever called me by my first name. I could feel my cheeks reddening as I smiled somewhat sheepishly.

"So where are the rest of the meeting attendees?” I asked inquisitively as I glanced around the area we were seated in.

"This meeting is just for you and me, Y/N," Jay said in a sultry tone of voice. "There's something about you, Y/N, that drives me crazy. Ever since you walked into my office, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind."

I felt the same way about him. He was definitely the most attractive, magnetic, and alluring man I had ever met. I was just too shy to tell him so.

Dinner was absolutely incredible. The food was delicious, and I'd probably had a bit more champagne than I'd actually intended to drink. After a perfect meal, Jay led me back out to the limousine, and we both got into the backseat.

As we talked about our backgrounds, childhoods, and future plans while drinking top shelf champagne, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't even asked him where we were headed. Before I could even form the words to inquire, the limo slowed to a stop.

"Where are we?" I asked, just as the chauffeur opened the door.

“My place,” Jay replied with a grin. “I hope that's okay with you. There's something I want to show you."

Normally, I would have thought twice about going to the home of a man I'd just met, but there was just something about Jay that made him all but irresistible to me.

His house was beyond magnificent. The outside of it took up damned-near an entire city block, and the front yard stretched out around the sides of the house. There was a huge, circular, paved driveway at the front, and the limo had stopped directly in the middle.

I couldn't even imagine what it was he wanted to show me. I felt both excited and anxious simultaneously.

Taking my hand inside his, he proceeded to lead me through his humongous residence, showing me all of the different paintings and other extraordinary decor and informing me of the countries from which they'd been ordered. Finally, we came to this nice, dimly lit room with a beautiful faux fireplace against the rear wall. My eyes widened in amazement as we entered the romantic-looking space hand-in-hand.

"Wowww!" I exclaimed, as I had done several hundred times since we'd first gotten out of the limo. "This room is so..."

“Enchanting? ”Jay stated in a questioning tone, finishing my exclamation for me.

"Yeah! Definitely!” I agreed as I looked around in bewilderment.

There was a bar counter in the far left area of the room and what appeared to be a fully-stocked mini bar behind it. A lavish-looking cream-colored sectional sofa was in the middle of the space, facing the fireplace, and there was a huge matching rug laid out in front of it.

Just as I was about to remove my shoes out of respect for the rug, the lights suddenly dimmed lower, and about a hundred faux candles all lit up simultaneously. Also, smooth, relaxing, slow music immediately began to play. The candlelight appeared to dance to the beat of the music.

I was totally speechless and utterly astonished. I had never seen anything like it before. I glanced over at Jay, who had already removed his own shoes and was filling two wine glasses at the built-in mini bar.

"Please, have a seat, Y/N,” he said amorously, nodding toward the sectional.

I sat down and continued to enjoy the ambiance of the supremely romantic setting until he soon came over to join me and placed a glass of champagne in my hand.

"So? Do you like it?" he asked after taking a sip of his drink.

"Like it? This is absolutely amazing!" I said with a huge grin.

"I'm glad you think so. I've never brought any woman into this room until tonight.

"I find that extremely hard to believe,” I said honestly."

I may be a lot of things, Y/N, but I am definitely not a liar,” he asserted. “Men like me don't have to be in order to get what we want."

“Now that, I absolutely do believe,” I replied with a grin. “So, what is it that you want with me? ”

"Ahh, the billion-dollar question," he said sultrily.

Just then, a very popular song began to play.

"Ohh, I love this song!" he said excitedly as he stood up and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

I didn't refuse. He pulled me upward and into his strong arms, and I wrapped mine around his neck. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating. I closed my eyes and pressed my body against his as we swayed to the music. Caught up in the moment, I felt like I could stay in his arms like that forever.

Then, suddenly, he pulled away for a moment and looked deep into my eyes.

“Y/N, you have it all. I adore your womanly physique, your stunningly bright brown eyes, and the fact that you are a very intelligent young woman. You are damned-near flawless. From the very first moment you walked into my office, I have had an undeniable, overwhelming attraction to you, and I know you feel it too."

I was completely speechless. I mean, what was I supposed to say? How do you even reply to a statement like that?

In all honesty, I was just as attracted to him as he was to me, but with him being both my boss and such a wealthy, sophisticated man, I think I felt a little bit intimidated. I'd never imagined myself being wined and dined with a billionaire Adonis like him.

I just kind of stood there, gazing into his tantalizing eyes like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush.

"Y/N,” he whispered as he suddenly spun me around so that he was behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Yes," I whispered back to him as the feeling of his warm breath against the nape of my neck instantly made me moist between my thighs.

I moaned as his soft lips brushed against the lobe of my him,. My body was instantaneously on fire for him and he had barely touched me.

"I want you," he whispered as his manly hands found my breasts and cupped them through the thin fabric of my cocktail dress.

The tips of his fingers found my nipples, causing another moan to escape my mouth. I felt his hand on the back of my neck, and then suddenly, my dress slid carelessly to the floor. I was braless, and this seemed to turn Jay on even more.

He groaned as I felt his manhood begin to stiffen against my ass.

"Y/N, you're fucking perfect,” he said gruffly, his voice raspy against my ear. “I want you. And you want me, too, don't you?

"Yes, Jay, yes," I moaned.

His hands squeezed my breasts, and I sighed loudly, arching my back. I felt his stiffening cock twitch in his pants.

"I'm twenty-eight years old, and I'm not getting any younger, Y/N. I've been looking for the right woman to bear my offspring, and you are the perfect specimen. I know you probably walked into the Park building today with your own plans and aspirations for your career and whatnot, but I have to be honest with you; I want you to bear my children.”

It was a lot to take in. He had certainly said a mouthful. I wasn't so sure about having kids with a man I'd just met, but he was definitely different from any other man I'd ever met, and odds were that I'd probably never meet anyone quite like him again.

His right hand slid down my midsection and into the front of my satin pants. I hissed with delight, biting down on my lip to stifle my cry of pleasure. He was applying just the right amount of pressure to my bud, and I was grinding my crotch against his hand.

"Don't hold back, Y/N,” he ordered in a breathy voice. “Let it all out!”

With that, he slid two fingers inside my dripping-wet pussy. I thrust my hips forward and let out a cry.

“Fuck, your pussy is already so wet for me! ”He declared with a grunt, pressing his erection against my ass.

Just as I was about to climax, he stopped, pulled his fingers out of my pants, and turned me around to face him. He put his fingers in his mouth and sucked my excitement out of them. My face flushed with need.

Then he pushed me down onto my knees as he undid his pants, releasing his stiff, throbbing cock. It was large—larger than I'd expected. It was definitely the biggest dick I'd ever seen in my twenty-four years on this earth. But I didn't care. I was going to try my damnedest to swallow it whole.

I caressed the shaft as I slid my tongue around the tip of his cock, teasing it gently, and then sliding it down into my mouth as far as it would go. I sucked it slowly and easily at first, and then I took my hand and used it with the rhythm of my mouth, sucking it as hard and fast as I could.

Groans fell from Jay's lips as he grabbed my hair and fucked my mouth. Then suddenly, he stopped me.

Easing the rest of the way out of his pants, he pulled me up toward him again and kissed me passionately, using his tongue to invade my mouth hungrily. I moaned as he began to trail his lips and tongue down my neck, pausing to lick, suck, and fondle both of my breasts, and then continuing down my belly until he reached the top of my pants.

With his teeth, he worked my pants down over my hips and buttocks, letting them drop to the floor near my dress. He parted my thighs slightly, using his fingers to slide my folds apart and massage my bud. Then, his lips replaced his fingers against my moist, pulsating pussy, and I cried out in sheer passion.

He was so skilled and talented—his tongue was like a fucking vibrating sex toy! He grabbed and squeezed my ass with one hand and used the other to slide two fingers back inside my pussy. I couldn't take it anymore!

"Fucckkk, I'm going to cum, Jay! I'm going to cum...so...fucking..." I couldn't even finish my sentence. His fingers pressed against my g-spot, and his tongue darted fast and hard against my pussy, sending me completely over the edge with the most powerful, intense, earth-shattering orgasm I had ever experienced.

My entire body shuddered and shook, and my legs tensed up. I grabbed his head as my crotch jerked forward uncontrollably against his face.

"Shiiiiittt! Oh fuuuuck!" I screamed loudly, unable to speak any other words.

When my climax finally began to wane, just as I was about to catch my breath, Jay suddenly lifted my legs up on his shoulders and gently pushed me down onto the soft, cream-colored rug lying me down on my back.

Not wasting a second, he slid his huge, hard cock into me slowly, with my legs still hoisted up on his shoulders.

I moaned long and hard as he stretched me to my limit, sliding deeper into my pussy than any other man had ever been.

“Fuck, Y/N, your pussy's so tight and wet! ," he exclaimed, moaning as he began to thrust in and out of me, going deeper with every stroke.

I was moaning so loudly that I could barely even hear the music playing anymore. His own groans became louder and longer with every thrust of his burly hips.

I reached up and wrapped my hands around his neck as he started fucking me harder and faster. It wasn't long before I felt a second orgasm building, getting closer and closer...

I still wasn't exactly certain about letting him impregnate me and make me the mother of his children, but the sex was fucking earth-shattering. I had never been fucked so good before! I felt his huge, stiff cock plunging in and out of me as I cried out in delirious pleasure.

Just as I was about to scream out loud, having reached my second powerful orgasm, he let out a loud, long groan, and I knew he was there, too. We were climaxing together simultaneously, and for a brief moment, it was like the two of us became one in our own world of bliss.

I felt his cock spurting his hot cum deep inside of me, filling my pussy to the brim, but it felt so fucking wonderful that I didn't give a shit. Besides, he was rich and handsome and could fuck like a damn machine.

As we finally came back to our senses, Jay kissed my lips as he slid out of me and plopped down on the rug beside me. The fake fire was still going, and the lights and music were still playing.

"That was, by far, the best sex I've ever had in my life,” I said breathily as I looked over at him.

"Me too," he said sultrily as he slid his arm beneath my neck.

With that, his eyes closed, as did mine, and we both drifted off into a satisfied slumber.

Jay and I continued to fuck like rabbits over the next few weeks, having hot, steamy, amazing sex every chance we got. And every time he came, he shot his hot cum deep inside of me.

Three weeks later, my pregnancy test came back positive. Jay was ecstatic, of course. At first, I had mixed emotions. I was going to become a mother. Was I really ready?

He immediately made me quit my job and put me in a beautiful condo with a view that overlooked the entire city. He found me the best doctors in the area and accompanied me to all of my prenatal appointments.

So I wouldn't be able to work for a while. I mean, babies don't stay babies. They eventually grow up into adults who can take care of themselves. Who knows? Once I've raised my kids, perhaps I'll still want to go back into the workforce.

For now, though, I think I'll just enjoy swelling with Jay's seed, growing rounder and riper by the day.

[cherienymphe]

When The Party’s Over III (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, loss of virginity, abusive relationship, forbidden relationship, violence, public sex, jealousy, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, corruption, forced pregnancy, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @silkholland​​

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

~

“I’m calling in that favor.”

The voice at your ear made you jump, and you looked over, startled by both the sight of Rafe and his close proximity. You were at The Wreck, waiting to pick up an order for your dad when he snuck up on you. You couldn’t help but note the smell of some cologne he was wearing, light and airy and not so suffocating like other types. It seemed to come from the sliver of skin that was revealed by his white button down, and realizing that you were staring, you looked away.

“Um…okay,” you said, swallowing and letting out a nervous chuckle.

If at all possible, he found a way to move closer, hand on the counter as he rhythmically tapped a finger on it.

“My dad and Rose are having a little get together. Celebrating their bullshit marriage, I guess, and since I’m required to be there, I figured I shouldn’t have to suffer alone.”

He was teasing, a small smile on his face, and you returned it, laughing to yourself. You had the brief thought though that this sounded like a date, and your smile waned. Rafe was probably one of the best looking guys on this island, and God knows you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t dazzled by him even just a little bit, but the thought made you frown.

For one thing, Pope would lose his mind, and while you didn’t go around being bossed around by Pope, Pope would have every reason to be upset by this. Also, you felt you were getting ahead of yourself, reading too much into what was probably a simple favor. The thought of Rafe being into you was laughable in your mind. He just didn’t date girls like you.

“Like…a date…?”

“Nah, no,” he was quick to tell you, and you hated the way your heart sank a bit at his quick denial. “You’re kind of fun, Heyward.”

Your face heated up at that, your smile returning.

“…and I think I’d be less likely to kill myself if you were there.”

You exhaled, looking away.

“Won’t…Sarah be there? I mean, I can tell Pope that it’s not a date until I’m blue in the face, but he’s not going to hear it.”

Rafe laughed at that, like he found your worry about Pope finding out funny.

“No, Sarah won’t be there. Your brother and their friends have taken John B.’s van to God knows where and probably won’t be back until tomorrow. I saw them leave with Sarah this morning.”

“Huh.”

You had noticed that you hadn’t seen Pope all day, not even when you woke up, but it wasn’t abnormal for you, so you hadn’t given it much thought.

“So, it’s tonight?”

“Last minute, I know, but to make up for the short notice,” you watched him reach down to grab a bag you hadn’t even noticed. “I got you something to wear. It’ll put a smile on their face, so…”

You were torn between being flattered or offended. On the one hand, no guy had ever bought you anything before, date or not. On the other, you didn’t know if you imagined the insinuation that Rafe was basically saying he didn’t think you owned anything that would impress Ward and Rose. He would be right, though, but you didn’t think you liked it.

“You seemed sure that I would say yes.”

“I hoped,” he said with a shrug, a crooked smile on his pink lips as he held the bag out to you.

Reluctantly, you took it, and his smile grew.

“Okay,” you finally relented, shrugging.

“Good, good,” he replied, straightening and looking towards the kitchen. “When your order’s ready, let me drop you off. I’ll swing back by to pick you up at 8.”

He brushed his hand over your shoulder and was gone before you could protest, and you were forced to go along with that, you guessed. He kept his word, helping you carry the food before helping you into his truck. Your dad seemed very happy to wave Rafe goodbye when he dropped you off, and you couldn’t gage his reaction as you told him about tonight.

“Anniversary party?”

“Something like that,” you said, licking your lips. “Since I’ve been tutoring Wheezie, they wanted to be polite and invite me.”

You hated lying, but you didn’t know how it would go if you told your dad Rafe invited you. Again, like Pope, you could tell him that it wasn’t date, but he’d never buy it. Your dad trusted you, at least you were sure, but you were positive any normal dad would flinch at the sight of their teenage daughter dating a slightly older guy. It wasn’t like Rafe was your dad’s age or anything close to it, but he just seemed so much older sometimes, more mature, and being around him was slightly intimidating.

“Well…alright. That seems fair. Very nice of them too,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest with a nod.

He seemed satisfied enough, and you relaxed.

As you got ready, you didn’t know why you were nervous. Rafe had said it wasn’t a date, and the thought was beyond silly anyway, but you couldn’t get your heart to stop racing. In all the other settings you’d been in with Rafe, it was so casual and usually surrounded by dumb teenagers and college students who weren’t giving you a second thought. That first night was the only exception, and even then, you couldn’t focus on anything other than being embarrassed to be rescued by your brother’s friend’s brother.

However, this was way more formal. You’d be by Rafe in front of his parents and whatever other rich Kooks they’d invited. You were starting to remind yourself of Pope, but you couldn’t help it. You were hyperaware of everything. Your hair, your makeup, and even what you might say. You were sure you’d sweat out of the all-white outfit Rafe had picked out.

He wasn’t even a minute late, and you didn’t miss the way his blue eyes lit up as you answered the door. He looked you over, admiring his work apparently, before taking your hand and making you awkwardly spin.

“It looks nice on you.”

A neutral compliment. You smiled, thanking him.

“The actual dinner portion will last all of thirty minutes if that,” he told you while on the way.

You looked him over as he talked, thinking he looked so proper in a simple polo and khakis. He didn’t look like himself, and you felt a little better that you weren’t the only one being made up like a doll.

“So, once the adults—well, the older adults, start doing their thing, we can honestly fuck off to wherever.”

“Okay.”

You nodded, looking out of the window and lightly pulling at your skirt. You thought you could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, and a moment later, his hands was pulling at yours.

“Stop,” he said, making you look at him. “You look fine.”

He said it so confidently that you told yourself the same.

Ward was definitely surprised to see you when you walked through the door, but he pulled you into a polite hug, nonetheless. Rose did the same, and Wheezie boldly asked if you were Rafe’s girlfriend with a small frown on her face. You were quick to shut that down, and Rafe just chuckled into his glass as he sipped on what you assumed was a virgin drink. Ward seemed like a very straight laced kind of man.

There definitely wasn’t as many people as you feared there would be, but for some reason, that made you even more nervous. Your cheeks hurt from your tight smile, answering questions about school and summer plans.

“I took a year off too,” some older man told you, a friend of Ward’s. “Best decision I ever made.”

When he proceeded to ask you about fancy colleges, that was where he lost you. You definitely had the grades and extracurriculars for it, but the money…well, that was another thing entirely. Just as Rafe had predicted, dinner lasted all of thirty minutes, and when the formalities disappeared and everyone started to just mingle outside, you found yourself looking at a painting in one of the halls.

“Some expensive thing Rose just had to have,” a familiar voice drawled from behind you. “Rose is big on art and pottery and…”

He trailed off when you faced him, dismissively waving his hand, and you wondered how long he’d been standing there.

You got the feeling he didn’t care for his stepmother all that much.

“I can see why you invited me,” you told him. “It’s very…proper.”

“Stuffy.”

“Refined.”

“Uptight.”

You and Rafe teasingly stared each other down, and you relented, throwing up your hands.

“I was trying to be nice about it, but-.”

“Why?” he scoffed, moving closer. “Call it what it is.”

He roughly exhaled, nursing a darker drink that you were sure wasn’t so virgin.

“All they do is sit around and pat each other on the back for being so rich and sophisticated and smart to make deal after deal.”

You tilted your head at him as he took a sip, pressing your lips together.

“Don’t do that. You like being rich just as much as they do.”

He smirked, eyes cutting to you, not denying it.

“I’m not criticizing them for being rich. I’m criticizing them for being boring,” he corrected you. “All the money in the world and this is what they choose to do with their time.”

You didn’t disagree with him there, and your gaze was drawn to another painting. Again, you thought you could feel him staring at you, and when you looked at him, you found that you were right. Rafe was the type who wasn’t embarrassed about being caught, and so he kept staring.

“I’m glad you came with me, tonight.”

His sudden sincerity threw you, and you licked your lips, nodding.

“You asked, and…I do kind of owe you.”

The house felt empty aside from you two.

“Still,” he breathed. “Tonight was actually a little fun because of you, so…”

He held his hand out, nodding towards the stairs.

“Come on. I don’t want to be the only one drinking,” he joked.

At least, you thought he was joking, but even if he wasn’t, you neared him and slipped your hand in his anyway.

You were half asleep when you heard it.

Tap.

It was clear as day in your ear, the sound echoing throughout your quiet room, but you’d convinced yourself you’d imagined it when you heard it again. Your lashes fluttered, and you rolled to your back, staring at your ceiling with a frown before turning your head towards your window. The figure that stood there had your heart attempting to climb out of your throat, and you sat up so fast it made your head spin. However, it took you all of seven seconds to recognize how familiar they looked.

With a confused frown, you slid off of your bed and made your way to the window.

“Rafe?”

It was without a doubt the very blond who had somehow become something akin to…a friend these days.

“What are you doing here?”

You didn’t even know how late it was, and as much as Rafe had scared you awake by standing outside of your window, your eyes felt tight with sleep. You noticed the tautness in his face, jaw clenched and eyes not as warm and teasing as you had become used to. Your frown deepened. He pulled his lip between his teeth, glancing away with a small sigh before meeting your eyes again.

“Can I come in?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you worriedly looked at your closed door like your parents would somehow sense this man asking for entry to your bedroom.

“Why…?” you slowly wondered, confusion growing.

You watched him take a deep breath, and as his knuckles strained against your window sill, you noticed they were slightly bruised. Worry swirled in your gut, and when you looked back up, Rafe was looking at you, and you knew he knew you noticed.

“To tell you the truth,” he sounded reluctant to do just that. “I got into it with my dad…”

Your shoulders drooped.

“…and I just couldn’t be in that house, right, so… I’m driving and I’m driving, and I’m thinking that I don’t want to be around Topper or Kelce either who’s just going to give me some coke or put a drink in my hand or crack jokes when I’m actually fucking pissed.”

The venom in his tone shocked you, and you blinked at this other side of him.

“It wasn’t until I was almost here that I realized where I was going…and I just… I just wanted to see you.”

He scratched the back of his head, and your chest clenched.

“No…yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. I… Come in.”

You moved out of the way, swallowing at the sight of Rafe Cameron climbing through your window. It didn’t seem real, and you shook your head.

“Do you need anything? Ice or…?” you trailed off, eyeing his knuckles again and wondering if that’s what he meant when he said he got into it with Ward.

You hoped not.

“Nah, this isn’t from that. I punched a wall,” he told you, and it sounded so ridiculous you couldn’t help but to let out a nervous laugh.

“You punched a wall?”

He nodded, looking away from you and instead taking in your room.

“Are you sure you don’t want ice or anything? That has to hurt,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer you at first, slowly walking around your room and studying every poster, every picture on your mirror, and every random item you hadn’t gotten around to putting in it’s proper place.

“Nah,” he drawled. “I’ll be fine. Not the first time.”

His words made you frown, and you suddenly felt…sad for Rafe. You never imagined you would. He had everything someone his age could want, and you felt so narrowminded all of a sudden, wondering why you thought his money and fancy upbringing secured a happy life. You and your parents had your spats, sure, but they’d never made you angry enough to want to punch anything. It made you shake your head.

Even crazier, Rafe had come to you. Not the friends he’d had his whole life, but you.

When he got done with his perusal, his eyes fell to you, drinking you in, and you only just became aware of the t-shirt that hit your knees. It wasn’t like Rafe was making you feel exposed or anything, his eyes focused on your face, but you couldn’t help it. Rafe Cameron was in your bedroom, and you didn’t have on pants.

That wasn’t something you could just ignore.

You moved to sit down, unsure of what else to do, and you watched Rafe shove his hands into his pockets.

“I’m sorry,” you said suddenly, and Rafe tilted his head at you. “About you and your dad.”

He chuckled at that, and you didn’t know what was funny.

“It’s not the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last.”

That made you sadder, and you were sure it showed on your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever fought with my parents like that,” you slowly said, and Rafe smirked.

He walked towards you, sitting on the edge of your bed with his back facing you.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you? You’re a good girl.”

The way he said that had you wracking your brain, and something about his tone made you feel like you should be insulted. As if he’d read your mind, Rafe continued.

“You don’t fuck up like I do.”

The insinuation that the fight was deserved had you moving closer.

“Whatever you did, I’m sure it doesn’t warrant your dad making you so angry you punch a wall,” you told him, perplexed.

He looked over his shoulder at you at that, drinking you in, and a slow smile made it’s way onto his lips.

“You have a lot of faith in me. How do you know?”

Rafe’s face was closer, now, smile gone.

“How do you know I didn’t deserve it?”

You didn’t truthfully, but the Rafe you’d grown to know was nice. He gave you rides when you needed then, and he was friendly, and he lied to your parents for you.

“I don’t, I guess…but, the Rafe I know doesn’t.”

He stared at you for what felt like a long time before nodding, a soft smile on his face as he turned away.

“Well, thank you. That means a lot.”

You bit your lip, having something on your mind and contemplating on whether or not to voice it before deciding to.

“I’m glad you came here.”

He perked up at that, looking at you again, and you held his gaze.

“You shouldn’t be alone after something like that, with that much anger, and…if you decide you don’t want to talk to your friends, you can come to me. I don’t mind.”

Rafe’s brows drew together at that, and he eyed you.

“You mean that?”

“Yeah,” you said, sitting up. “It would make me feel better to know that you’re not punching walls.”

You both softly chuckled at that, and you were startled when Rafe took your hand. He played with your fingers, eyeing them and swiping his tongue between his lips before his gaze met yours again. He looked at you from beneath his lashes as he leaned on your bed at your feet.

“Thank you.”

You returned it with a smile, wondering how on earth you were going to get any sleep tonight.

You fucked up.

Bad.

You couldn’t even blame this on Cam or Bunny, because this was all you. They’d warned you that the punch was spiked, and you could vaguely recall making a comment on how you didn’t even taste any alcohol. This was your first lesson in learning that was the dangerous kind, you guessed, and you pressed your hand to your forehead.

This was the fourth time you’d thrown up tonight, and you could feel that you were dehydrated. Your fingers shook, and you were so out of it that you stumbled with every fifth step you took. You could barely make out the faces in front of you, and you suspected that you’d probably walked right by the blonde or redhead and hadn’t even realized.

There were so many people in the house, this easily being one of the biggest parties you’d been to this summer. You had recognized people here and there, but not enough to point them out at this point. You’d never been this drunk in your life, and if you doubted it before, you stuck to that thought when you realized you’d misplaced your phone.

You were glued to your phone.

You leaned against the wall in the hallway, pressing your face into your hands and fighting the urge to throw up again. Your stomach kept turning, and you felt that familiar taste of salt in your mouth, making your face fall.

“Oh my God,” you heard yourself slur.

When you banged on the bathroom, you got a response, and you huffed. It was a struggle to get down the stairs, and you almost fell a few times trying to push past people and get outside. While the fresh air did sober you up a bit, it did nothing to alleviate your nausea, and your face became acquainted with the bushes.

You hated throwing up. Hated the salty wet taste in your mouth, and the way you felt so out of control as your body literally forced things out of you. As you puked into the bushes at some house of some guy you couldn’t even remember, you thought to yourself that this was the lowest of the low for you…

…and then you heard his voice.

“Y/N?”

You were taking deep breaths when you heard him approach you, and you tearfully looked up to meet his gaze.

“Hey, Rafe,” you breathed, correcting yourself and now recognizing this as the lowest.

You kept breathing in the fresh air, trying to clear your head.

“I’ve been there once or twice myself,” the blond joked, fully taking in the scene before him.

However, when you tried to straighten only to sway on your feet, he became serious.

“Woah, woah. You alright…?”

His soft voice was in your ear, and you reluctantly shook your head.

“I drank way too much…and this is the fifth time tonight I…”

You trailed off, embarrassment filling you. Rafe’s hands dug into your waist and shoulder as he held you upright.

“You sure you weren’t drugged?”

You shook your head.

“I knew the punch had alcohol, but I could barely taste it, so my mind wasn’t really focusing on that as I kept drinking more,” you slurred, pausing to take a deep breath. “It snuck up on me.”

“Yeah, that sounds familiar,” he dragged out, helping you walk. “Where are your friends?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I lost them.”

You paused.

“…and my phone,” you said with a groan.

You were practically hanging off of Rafe, now.

“Alright,” he said like it was no problem, like you weren’t inconveniencing him again. “Let’s just get you home.”

You reacted immediately.

“No,” you almost shouted, and you could tell you shocked him.

You softened your voice, trying not to cry.

“I…I can’t go home like this,” you fearfully whispered. “Not yet, at least.”

All of your weight was on Rafe, and he seemed to see where you were coming from.

“Okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, guiding you to his truck.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologized, the world swaying a bit. “I know you had so many better things to do, and…”

You trailed off when Rafe pressed a finger to his lips, sitting you in his passenger seat, now. You slowly blinked as he buckled you in, and you felt his hand on your face, wiping your mouth with his thumb.

“It’s okay,” he slowly reiterated.

You winced when the door closed, head lolling as Rafe started it up. The soft purr of the truck was relaxing, and you felt yourself leaning. You could hear him calling your name, and you tipped all the way over, your head near his lap. You could feel his hand on your hair, and you absentmindedly thanked yourself for keeping it up tonight, happy it wouldn’t be smeared with vomit.

The only way you knew you’d dozed off was because the next time you opened your eyes, you were slowly being led through Rafe’s yard, his chest at your back.

“No one’s home,” he told you, and you were so glad.

You blinked, just realizing that he’d walked you through his yard.

“You brought me here?”

You swiveled your head towards him.

“Yeah,” he breathed, preparing you for the stairs by kicking your shoes off with his feet. “We’ll sober you up, and hey, if need be, we’ll put you in the guest room.”

That sounded like a nice idea, and you both slowly took the stairs one at a time.

“…my parents…”

Your voice sounded so soft in your ears.

“Hey…didn’t I take care of them before?”

You giggled at the memory, nodding.

You drunkenly took in Rafe’s room as he walked you inside, and you collapsed on his bed, looking around as he searched his drawers. You’d never been in his room, hadn’t even thought about it really, but now that you were here, you looked around in wonder. You wondered if this was how Rafe felt when he was in yours the other night.

You noted the sound of the shower turning on.

When Rafe was at your side again, he was helping you sit up and was putting a shirt in your hand. He knelt before you, touching your face again and studying you.

 “You think you can manage?”

He was talking about the shower, and you nodded.

“I’ll try.”

Try you did. The hot water and steam definitely helped, but there’d been several times during your shower that you’d found yourself kneeling or leaning against the wall, having a hard time standing. You couldn’t even focus on the fact that you were showering in Rafe’s room, taking in his bathroom too when you managed to get the water off.

You were walking better, now, and your head wasn’t swimming as much when you stepped out. However, there was no sign of Rafe, and you made your way into the hall. You were nearing the stairs as you could hear him in the kitchen, and you had managed to struggle halfway down them when he appeared at the bottom, hurrying towards you.

“Woah, woah, what are you doing?” he chuckled, a couple of bottles of water in his hands. “Are you trying to break your neck?”

You pressed your hand to your head, shaking it as he turned you around.

“I was looking for you. Where should I put my clothes?”

“I’ll take care of them, don’t worry,” he told you, a hand on the small of your back.

When you were back in his room, you sat down on his bed, gladly taking a water.

“Thank you,” you told him, chugging it. “I never thought I’d be so drunk it scared me.”

He sat the others down on his nightstand.

“How you feeling?”

You sighed at the question.

“I’m too drunk to step a foot into my house and I threw up five times,” you deadpanned.

Rafe chuckled at that before disappearing into his bathroom.

“When you’re done with that, come brush your teeth. Get that taste out of your mouth,” he called.

You never felt more grateful, taking him up on that suggestion. He told you you could put your spare one by his, and when you were done, you joined him in his room. Without thinking, you laid down, hoping that you’d feel a thousand times better in an hour or so.

“You don’t even know how embarrassed I am,” you murmured, and the bed dipped as Rafe sat down in front of you. “At this point, you have to think that I am a mess and should just be locked up in my house forever.”

You glanced up, eyes meeting his.

“That’s not what I think,” he whispered with a shake of his head.

“Well…it’s what I think.”

Just then, you both heard the door downstairs, and your wide eyes met his as voices reached you. They sounded familiar, like Sarah, and you closed your eyes, lips parting in a silent sigh.

“Great,” you murmured.

You felt Rafe’s hand on your arm, and you opened your eyes to look at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured you. “We’ll wait here for a while, and if you feel better, I can sneak you out.”

Your eyes watered at that, and you knew it was the alcohol.

“Thank you,” you mouthed and kind of whispered. “You’re too nice to me, Rafe, and I don’t know why.”

There was a slight frown on his face at that, and he moved to lay down too, facing you.

“I just keep thinking of how many crappy situations I found myself in and how I would’ve possibly gotten out of them if it weren’t for you.”

He didn’t respond to that, and you could feel your eyes drooping some.

“You’re like this coke snorting angel in board shorts or something…”

You both chuckled at that, and Rafe was saying something to you, but you were drifting too far into sleep to hear it.

The next time you woke up, the house was quiet. You still felt groggy, head swimming, but you could tell the water and sleep had done something to alleviate your inebriation. You opened your eyes and was happy it was still dark outside, but you did wonder what time it was.

“You only slept about an hour and a half.”

Rafe’s voice startled you, and you glanced up, not realizing he was awake. You wondered if he’d been awake this whole time, and as you noted him watching you, you wondered if he’d done that the whole time. The alcohol in your system had you entertaining self-centered thoughts.

“Sarah?”

“She and her friends are still here.”

You noticed his use of the plural and frowned. He nodded.

“Even Pope,” he told you.

You sighed at that, and you were sure you were going to say something when Rafe’s finger touched your lips. The action surprised you, and you were more focused on him, now. Somehow, your drunken haze hadn’t allowed you to register it before, but you couldn’t help but focus on the fact that you were half dressed in Rafe’s bed…with Rafe. You hadn’t realized how close you were, and you studied his gaze.

“What…?” you finally whispered, and he simply shook his head.

Something about the air felt…off. Off to you, at least because this was unfamiliar to you. Rafe’s finger trailed from your lips to your cheek, and then down past your chin. Your heart sped up at the feel, and you swallowed. Rafe’s gaze was drawn to the movement, eyes studying the column of your neck.

“Rafe…”

The blond moved closer.

“What are you…?”

Your words died on your lips.

Rafe gently pressed his to yours, and you blinked, taken aback but feeling so warm. The kiss was gentle, and you sighed into it. You’d kissed a few boys before. Innocent pecks behind the bleachers or by a tree during lunch, but never anything that lasted this long and certainly didn’t make your entire body tingle. It was so foreign, new, and you pulled away, gasping.

Rafe shushed you, reaching for you.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, a hand on the back of your neck.

He pulled you into another kiss, this one firmer, and you sharply inhaled at the way he moved his mouth against yours. His fingers massaged into the skin at the back of your neck, and you were still so in shock that you couldn’t process what this meant. However, the way he kissed you had your eyes closing, and the alcohol in your system didn’t help.

The alcohol reminded you of why you couldn’t go home and then home made you think of Pope.

You pulled away from him again, sitting up this time, and Rafe followed.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, hands on your face as he tried to get you to look at him.

“Pope,” you breathed. “I…c-can’t…”

“It’s okay,” Rafe softly told you, leaning in and brushing his lips against yours. “You’re okay.”

He kissed you again and again, softly telling you it was okay, hands spreading along your jaw and neck. Your hands were on his arm, unsure if you wanted to push him away or not.

“Wait,” you said in between kisses, feeling like you couldn’t think straight. “I need to…”

The blond made a soothing shushing sound, lips meeting yours, one hand trailing over you now. You jerked at the feel, unintentionally pressing yourself closer to him, and he deepened the kiss. You pressed a hand to his chest, and Rafe deeply inhaled, mouth moving over yours. He was leaning in, pushing you down, and you felt weak, suddenly as drunk as you were hours ago.

You made a noise when your back met his bed, Rafe hovering over you and a knee sliding up, separating your legs. You gasped at that, the cool air hitting your core, and your other hand came up to his chest too. It made you shudder, trembling even more when one of his hands snaked its way down your body, disappearing between your thighs.

Your eyes flew open.

Your nails dug into him, fingers twisting in Rafe’s shirt as he pressed a finger to you. He was slow in circling you, so gently it was almost torturous. The sensation had you gasping, and you felt Rafe smile into the kiss. He worked that same finger into you, making you tighten your hold on his shirt, and Rafe pulled away to watch your face.

Your brows were drawn together as he fingered you, and you didn’t have time to process what was happening. One. Two. Three. At some point, he’d worked three into you, shushing you when you cried out and telling you it was okay, mentioning something about needing to be ready for him. You were so wet, wetter than you’d ever been before when it was just you alone in your bedroom.

He pressed kisses to your lips and cheeks and neck as he massaged your walls. It was nothing like you’d felt before, and your lashes fluttered when he started to kiss his way down your body. You could feel his cool breath hitting you where his fingers were, and you barely had time to lift your head and look down when his mouth was covering you completely.

The gasp you let out was loud, and you completely forgot that you weren’t the only ones in the house.

Rafe tasted you like a man starved, tongue swirling inside of you, sliding over you, flicking against you. The sound reached your ears, and it made your face burn. That dull pain you’d registered in the back of your mind was overshadowed by the sensations brought on by both his fingers and his tongue. He still licked at you, pushing a finger into you and then a second, curling them and making you arch.

Your heart was racing in your chest, and you felt so hot now. No longer warm, but hot.

Your hands found his hair, twisting and pulling, and you could feel Rafe chuckle. The sound made you jerk, throwing your head back as he sucked on you, tongue sliding into you once his fingers were gone. You hadn’t realized that your hips were moving, grinding onto his face like a possessed woman, but Rafe seemed to like it, hooking his arms around your thighs and helping anchor you.

You bit your lip, swallowing down whimpers and mewls, only heavy breaths escaping through your nose.

All too soon, it felt like, Rafe pulled away. It gave you time to collect your thoughts, and you couldn’t believe what was happening. You didn’t understand how you got here, and you shook your head, moving to sit up when Rafe rejoined you. He was naked now, and you didn’t have time to register the shock before he was slowly kissing you.

Your hands pressed into the bed to keep from being pushed back down, trying to talk to him, but his hands grabbed the end of the shirt he’d let you borrow. In yanking it, your arms fell, and you bounced on his bed as he tossed it behind him somewhere. Rafe wouldn’t stop kissing you, wouldn’t let your mind think, but you didn’t have anymore thoughts when he slowly started to dip into you.

You gasped, nails pressing into his skin as he slowly sheathed himself inside of you. Bit by bit he pushed forward, stretching you out and creating the strangest dulled burning sensation. A sharp moan escaped when he could go no further, and your chest heaved as you stared at the ceiling. Rafe lifted his head, hand coming up to wipe the beads of sweat from your forehead, and he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“You’re okay,” he assured you, shifting and pressing a hand into the bed beside your head. “I’ll take care of you.”

When he moved, you squeezed your eyes shut. It was equal parts pain and pleasure and something unknown. Rafe continuously pressed his lips to your skin, his own labored breathing in your ear. The sound fascinated you for some reason, wondering if he felt just like you felt. He stretched you and filled you in a way that almost felt wrong, too much, but every stroke stroked something in you that had you wanting him to keep going.

He kept his eyes on you, constantly watching your face and your eyes and your lips. You started to ask him why, but you thought that would be weird considering the circumstances. As you stared at him, watching him move over you, it was hitting you that you were having sex with Rafe Cameron.

You’d never given it much thought before who you would have sex with, but Rafe Cameron would’ve been nowhere near an option. He was Rafe. He was older and all the guys knew him and all the girls wanted to. He threw parties everyone wanted to go to and he always looked like nothing bothered him and he’d been nicknamed the Kook Prince of Figure 8. Rafe didn’t look at girls like you…and yet…

Here he was, having sex with a girl like you.

This wasn’t how you had predicted the night would go, at all, and truthfully, you still didn’t know how you felt about it. You were still so drunk and could hardly focus on a thing at a time, but one thing stood out above all else and it was the way Rafe was looking at you. Not how he was fucking you or touching you, but how he was looking at you.

It made you shudder, and it felt more intimate than him literally being inside of you. He wouldn’t take his blue eyes off of you, taking in your every expression and every sound you made. It was like he cared more about that than what was between your legs. He leaned a forearm against the bed beside your head, getting closer, and his chest brushed yours with every thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmured, lips touching yours as he spoke. “You like that?”

He curved his hips into yours, making you whimper, and he smiled, teeth winking at you. Your hands came up to grasp his back, nails digging in, and his smile widened.

“There you go,” he purred, snapping into you. “Mark me up.”

You were, you realized with shock, and you didn’t mean to nor want to, but you felt so overwhelmed and needed something to grasp. Something to ground you, and a choked moan climbed out of your throat.

“Rafe,” you gasped, and he kissed you.

“You’re okay…”

Your eyes briefly closed, noting how snug he felt inside of you, and every movement against your walls had you shaking. You whined, toes curling, and Rafe’s other hand was trailing over you. He was touching you and tickling you and squeezing you, feeling you up with every thrust. His hand pressed to the small of your back, forcing your lower half up and closer.

“I wanna come inside you.”

The words reached your ears, and you knew that was bad, not ideal, but in your haze, you couldn’t care.

“I shouldn’t,” he chuckled. “…but I want to.”

Everything had happened so fast, and you couldn’t even remember if Rafe had put on a condom. You had a brief thought that you were going to be that girl tomorrow morning, disheveled and bringing a Plan B to the checkout counter. It was surreal to think about.

He pressed open mouth kisses to your neck, and you clung to him, hanging on and just losing yourself in the feel of his cock thrusting into you. Faintly, you could hear voices again down the hall, footsteps too, and you had most certainly forgotten who else was here. You couldn’t find the state of mind to focus on that either.

Rafe’s cock plunged into you over and over, and you could hear yourself mumbling incoherently. You felt so spaced out, trying to focus on so much at once, but you didn’t want to stop. You were obsessed with the feeling, your hips lifting to meet his every time, and Rafe looked down at the sight, staring at where he disappeared into you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, tongue darting out to touch his lips. “Making a mess all over me.”

It was the alcohol that had you murmuring a soft ‘sorry’, and Rafe chuckled. He kissed you again, nose brushing yours.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he whispered. “I’ll show you how to clean it up one day.”

Rafe completely surrounded you, caging you in and jerking himself into you. His forehead touched yours, blond hair damp and hanging, and when he kissed you again, you drunkenly kissed him back.

[eddysocs]

Smut Dialogue Prompts

You may mix and match these prompts with ones on the same or different prompt lists you find on my blog when making requests. Context for the prompt(s) is always welcomed and encouraged, but not required.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

"Your voice does things to me. I just thought you should know that."

"I know you're technically my instructor..."

"I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist."

"Don't act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago."

"We should probably leave, before we start a scandal."

"My tongue still remembers the way you taste."

"I want to count every one of your freckles with my lips."

"I know I should ask why you're naked in my bed, but I just want to enjoy it for a moment."

"Maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense."

"Your eyes are already saying yes, now I just need your mouth to tell me the same."

"You look so cute when you're all disheveled."

"Well, how do you like my outfit?" "You're hardly wearing anything."

"I’ve never seen you look at me like that before."

"Don’t deny me what’s mine."

"Let me take care of you, yeah? I'll do the work."

"My God, you're so fucking gorgeous like this."

"Can I- can I please touch myself?"

"Wanna see how you look when you come undone under me."

"I'll make you feel good, I promise. Just trust me."

"I wanna taste you on my lips again."

"Wanna feel you against me."

"Clothes on or clothes off?"

"Mmm, always so impatient for me, aren't you?"

"Do I turn you on that much?"

"I don't think I'm gonna last long if you keep doing that."

"Need I remind you on what happened last night?"

"Lift your hips up for me."

"You’re so hot when you're bossy."

"Tell me if it becomes too much, okay?" "Okay."

"Are we— are we really going to do this here?"

"Eyes on me at all times, sweetheart."

"I want you in the most sinful ways possible."

"You like messing with my head, don't you?" "Only because it clearly turns you on."

"You'd sound so good begging for it."

"Getting you naked was just the first part of my plan for the night."

"You're wearing way too many clothes for what I have in mind."

"There's just something so extremely irresistible about a uniform..."

"You should keep the boots on."

"Maybe I should wake you up like this more often."

"We still have a few minutes left. You think you can manage?"

"Tell me if the collar is too tight."

"You’re such a good girl."

"We’re in the middle of a restaurant, what are you doing?"

"I’m trying to drive here."

"I love the way you touch me."

"Are you saying this doesn’t turn you on?"

"You know you want it."

"I’m not sure you could handle me."

"Please, I need you. Now."

"I like it when you say my name like that."

"I’m going to be late because you can’t keep it in your pants."

"Shut up and take your pants off."

"Don’t stop. Whatever you do, please don’t stop."

"I’m not hurting you, am I?"

"This can be our little secret."

"On your knees."

"I’ve thought about it before. You know, being with you like this."

"You look so good with your head between my legs."

"What would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me?"

"Let me worship you the way you deserve."

"It’s been such a long time."

"Turn around. I want to try something."

"Try not to ruin your manicure when you dig those nails into my back."

"Are you sure there’s enough room to do this in a hospital bed?"

"You don’t have anything on under that, do you?"

"Take me to bed or lose me forever."

"Keep this up and I’ll become a sex addict."

"You’ve been playing hard to get all night."

"I love it when you dress up for me."

"I love that the sexiest woman I’ve ever met is also my best friend."

"You don’t just belong in my bed, you belong on magazine covers."

"You make sex a religious experience."

"I thought we agreed to share her."

"I’m afraid I can no longer remain professional."

"I think I’ve made my intentions clear."

"I shouldn’t allow myself to get so close to you."

"I thought maybe we could do a little more than kissing this time."

"Oh my god, you’re naked." "Look all you like. I don’t mind."

"Mmm, good morning to you too."

"I want you." "Then have me."

"You’re not taking me to bed. Ever." "Who said it had to be a bed?"

"Would you reconsider if I were sober?"

"I'm not wearing any panties."

"Can’t I at least take my shoes off before you pounce on me?"

"I’m the one in charge here, silly girl."

"Be a good girl for mommy."

"And here I was, thinking that you were so innocent."

"Are you going to keep staring at my ass or…?"

"I want my first time to be with you."

"I can’t believe I did this again."

"Come sit on my lap, baby."

"Oh I'm sorry, did I pull too hard on the leash? What a shame."

"You enjoy being praised, don’t you?"

"Why don’t you bare that pretty neck for me?"

"I want to hike up your skirt and take you right here."

"Do you think they can hear us through the tent?" "Yes we can."

"I was wondering how long you two were going to make out like that before you realize you weren’t alone."

"You could be wearing a trash bag and I’d still want you."

"Oh my god. Did we just break the bed?"

"Throw your morals out the window, just for tonight."

[teasemates]

Morning wood

Fic by suometar @camaro-and-smokes

Here's one for @hawkinsmafia whose request was "Hey Billy, can you grab a pic of Steve’s morning wood for us?"

::::::::::

The request was supposed to be an easy one to fill. Just take a pic of Steve’s morning wood. It was among the easier ones on the list.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Billy asked.

“What if I take it myself and we just say it was taken by you?” Steve suggested.

“They would know. Just think about it. There’s no way you can take a pic from an angle like that of yourself. The moment you wake up enough it starts to...you know. You know that. It would require preparing the night before, setting up a camera and planning angles and all that. And we don’t have a camera, so you’d have to use your phone.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow, amused. “You sound pretty eager to sacrifice yourself for it. To come into my room in the morning, first thing, and take a dick pic?”

Billy grimaced and felt his cheeks warming up. “I’m not particularly happy about it, but how else would I do it? I’m open to suggestions.”

The truth was that Billy had been itching to see Steve’s dick in full mast for quite a while. He’d seen a hint of its size one morning when he’d been already up and Steve had come to the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. They’d been out the whole previous night and Billy was probably just as hungover as Steve, but Steve always slept long on his free days. Anyway, it had caught Billy’s eye, even though he of course looked away as soon as he realized what he’d been looking at. It hadn’t been stiff anymore but the chubbiness in Steve’s briefs left little to imagination; he was packing.

This realization definitely hadn’t helped with his crush at Steve. In fact, it had made it deepen and also added the new layer of having sexual thoughts about him to it. To the point that the embarrassing wet dreams had returned.

The worst was that as far as he knew Steve was very much straight. He hadn’t seen Steve with any girls, or at least he hadn’t brought any with him home. But he was fairly certain Steve leaned only that one way. Billy had been happy to remain only as friends with him, though. If that was all he’d ever get, then at least he had that. But now it was all different.

He’d been thinking of finding ways to learn if he ever had a chance in hell with Steve. He’d found this one camboy on Onlyfans who, yes, had dark brown hair, brown eyes and a lean built—he could admit he had a type—he’d been now following for a month or so after his revelation with somewhat satisfactory results. It was never the real deal of course, but it was close enough. Anyway, when the camboy had declared on his social media that he was quitting his day job and doing Onlyfans for living, Billy had realized that they could try that too. Solid income from just doing a short video or snapping a photo. And they wouldn’t have to do anything but solo stuff. But even still, it would maybe bring them closer together and maybe even…well, maybe he’d eventually find out what he wanted.

So it wasn’t that Billy wasn’t more than willing to do the request. Knowing that Steve knew the pic was being taken was what made it difficult.

Steve scratched his chin. “I guess there’s really no other option. Just come into my room in the morning and...”

“Uh, yeah. Wanna let me know when you...you know, have one? I mean, I’m up probably anyway before you, so...”

“Eh, sure. Sure. I’ll do that.”

It was a few days later when it happened. Billy was having his morning coffee and on his phone, scrolling through the comments on their OF account, when Steve cleared his throat in the doorway.

Steve was blushing and he rubbed his neck with his hand. “Uh...um...You wanna, eh...take the pic?”

Billy lowered his gaze to look and... The way Steve shuffled his feet told Billy he knew he was looking. And that his eyes were probably wide and that he was blushing, too.

The tenting in Steve’s briefs was big. Definitely bigger than what Billy had, no doubt about it.

He felt his mouth go dry, and he spurred into action. “Uh, yeah, sure.” He grabbed his phone and followed Steve to his room.

Steve’s room was facing east and it had a nice view to the park, so the morning sun was shining through the window and straight onto Steve’s bed.

“Where do you want me?” Steve asked.

Billy was certain Steve hadn’t thought about his choice of words too much, but he still couldn’t keep entirely straight face. “Maybe on the bed? In the sun.” He opened the camera app of his phone and was determined to not look until Steve was ready. It was then when he realized that he was about to take a photo of Steve’s dick with his own phone. “Eh, want me to take this with your phone?”

“Oh, right. Yeah,” Steve said, taking his phone from the nightstand. After unlocking it he gave it to Billy.

Billy fumbled with it, almost dropping it when Steve took his briefs off and sat on the bed.

His dick had both the length and the girth. It had to be at least eight inches long, and Billy wasn’t sure if his fingers would’ve reached around it. The shaft had thick veins running on the front and on its sides, and the head was a bit pointy, not too much though, and it was deliciously swollen.

God, it was so, so pretty.

Billy imagined how silky and heavy it would feel on his tongue and felt himself grow hard. “Wow,” he heard himself say. “Uh, I mean,” he rushed to add,” that’s impressive.”

Steve blushed even more. “Thanks.” He shifted in his seat and leaned on the headboard, spreading his legs a little so that his dick was leaning against his left thigh, and his sack resting nicely between his legs. “Uh, is this position okay?”

Billy felt ridiculous amount of arousal from the simple change of position. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he squeaked, aiming at Steve’s groin and centering it in the camera’s finder. The shutter sound confirmed the splendor being immortalized not only to Steve’s camera roll but also to Billy’s personal spank bank. He showed the pic to Steve. “What do you think?”

“It’s my dick...What do you think?”

Billy blinked idly for a moment. He knew the question was a simple one and not what his mind immediately went to, and he had to put in a real effort not just to blurt out what he was really thinking, to choose his words carefully. Which was hard, considering that let me suck it and let me sit on it were first in line to roll out.

He thought of the delicious way it would split him open, enter him achingly slow. It would stretch him deliciously and make him moan and let out incoherent words until it was in to the hilt. With every thrust he’d probably feel it all the way up in his throat.

Or if he’d suck it, it would force his mouth wide open to accommodate it. Filling it to the brim, making him unable to think about anything else. Pushing to the back of his mouth, making him gag and choke. Spit to spurt out from the sides of his mouth and his nose, tears pushing through from the corners of his eyes. Making him a beautiful mess.

And still he’d try to take more of it, all of it. He’d want to have his nose pressed against the dark bush of hair in the root of it. Have his hair tugged and his head kept in place while he was mouth-fucked with that monster. Perversely used, perfectly and blissfully out of control.

He’d listen to the moans and gasps, breathless words praising him taking it so well, and he’d do exactly that, take all of it. Get hard from those words alone, leaking to his own briefs. He’d have to grab his dick while tears and drool and precum would mix all over his cheeks and jaw, dripping on his neck and chest. He’d jerk himself in the same pace with the face-fucking and when the warm, salty load would hit his throat, he’d finish himself off with pathetic moans formed around the still pulsing cock in his mouth…

He snapped out of his reverie, feeling hot all over. Steve was looking at him with a shy smile. “It’s, uh...i–it’s great,” he stammered awkwardly, put Steve’s phone on his desk and left the room, beelining to his own room.

He sat on his bed and pulled his now aching dick from his briefs, not having to jerk it for long before he came. He fell on his back on the bed and grimaced, closing his eyes. “Oh god,” he thought, “this is so bad.”

Later they were in the living room, Billy sitting on the floor and playing on his PS4 and Steve doing something on his laptop on the couch.

“I’m going to upload the pic now,” Steve said. “Wanna see?”

Billy paused the game and sat next to Steve. Maybe a bit too close, he wasn’t sure, because their thighs brushed against each other. But Steve didn’t flinch, so it had to be okay.

It was ridiculous how many things Billy nowadays thought way too much just because he had a crush on Steve. If it was okay to sit like this, the same way they’d sit on this very same couch as long as he could remember whenever he looked at something Steve was working on on his laptop. Or if it was okay to sit in the breakfast table together and not say a word or if he talked too much. If it was okay to do anything that used to be so easy to do when he’d been content on being just friends with Steve.

Or if Steve felt the same way.

Billy frowned. The photo looked a bit different to what he remembered—and he thought he remembered it well. “Did you edit it?” he asked.

“No…” Steve drawled. “Well, just adjusted the light a little. Is it ok?”

“Yeah. No, yeah, it’s okay,” Billy rushed to answer. He scolded himself because he knew he’d already said too much with the question alone.

Steve smiled and chuckled. “Alright.”

Billy watched as Steve uploaded the photo, wrote a caption to it with the request and posted it.

Steve glanced at him. “You know, it’s okay. I mean in the morning, when you took the photo.”

Billy felt his cheeks heating. His first thought was that Steve knew. That Steve had looked and seen his arousal. Billy looked at Steve who was staring at the keyboard. “What is?” he asked cautiously.

Steve didn’t say anything for a good while, but his cheeks turned rosy pink. “It was kinda fun. You know, having my pic taken like that. I’ve ever only taken a…” he paused and chuckled nervously, “I’ve only taken a dick pic myself.”

Billy laughed, relieved. “Well, yeah. It’s not something you’d probably do unless… you know.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Maybe…next time it’ll be easier.”

Billy smirked. “Maybe you can take my pic next time.”

_ _ _

This is Billy's and Steve's Onlyfans RP account. Billy and Steve are "running" the account, the team behind it is Aggressiveviking & Suometar. Feel free to play into or out of the rp in any way you like, all interactions are welcome 💕💕💕

[bookshelf-dust]

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 2,344

warnings: swearing, smoking, reader is lonely, descriptions of billy’s abuse, mentions of neil

a/n: hi! so i decided to challenge myself with this. i’m making this a multi-part story. i’ve never done anything like this before, but so far i’m enjoying it. i’m not entirely sure where we’re headed, but i’ve got a sort of outline in my head. i’ve also decided to try something else new, and i’ve picked out some songs that you can listen to before you read to get you in the mood—but only if you want of course. this is all a really new experience for me but i have put a lot of heart into this first part. i hope that you enjoy this, really i do. also the title is from a part of hop’s letter to el. <333

before you read, listen to: wheel in the sky by journey and/or (don’t fear) the reaper by blue oyster cult

————

Sitting cross-legged on your bed, you turn the page of the book in front of you, the sound of the paper flipping an audible one.

You lift the hardback, tuck your nose into the center of the pages and give it a sniff. It might be odd to do so, yes, but to you, books are the best smelling thing in the world.

You put it back down, go back to reading.

A knock breaks you out of your fantasy literature-induced stupor.

“Honey? Okay for me to come in?” Your mother’s voice, soft and sweet.

“Sure.” Your voice is quiet when you speak, though just loud enough for her to hear.

Your bedroom door opens enough for your mother to stand just inside, her back against the frame, one hand gently resting on the knob.

You reach for your bookmark, drape it over one side of the pages and then close it.

“Hey, kiddo.” Her smile is easy. You try your best to give her one of your own, but you know it falls short.

“Wendy and I are going out to dinner tonight and then to an art show.”

Wendy was your mother’s longtime best friend, and quite the riot.

“Apparently her new girlfriend is something of an artist.” She gives a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. “Do you think you’d like to tag along?”

You uncross your legs and stretch them out: contemplating. Then you do the same to your back, which makes an obscene crackling noise—enough to make the both of you grimace.

You know how you’ll feel if you go out with your mother and her friend.

You’ll be okay for the first little while, but then there will be too many people. You’ll get nervous. You will probably say something wrong and feel the need to shut down. You will shut down. Your hands will get shaky and you’ll get upset, and by the end of the night you’ll wish you hadn’t gone at all.

You know how you’ll feel if you stay home, too.

You’ll be fine, totally fine, having avoided everything you’d face in the other situation. But you’d be guilty. Guilty because you’re young and you won’t be going out to do whatever or making friends. You’ll feel like you’re failing your mom, who just wants you to experience things.

You decide that leaving your house shouldn’t require this much stress.

“No, I don’t think so,” you finally say. “But thank you for offering.”

You watch your mother as she moves further inside your room, settling on the edge of your bed.

“Are you sure?” She sets her hands on your knees, tapping her fingers, many a ring glinting in the overhead light of your room.

“We could get frozen yogurt. You know, I really think you’ve turned Wendy into a monster after we went last time. It’s all she talks about now.”

That gets a small smile out of you, but brings an ache to your chest.

“I’m sure. Don’t get too crazy, tonight, though. And be sure to let me know about her new partner.”

“Alright. Hug or no? What’s the affectionate meter at right now?”

“A hug is fine,” you say through a quiet laugh.

She wraps her arms carefully around your shoulders, allowing you to squeeze first, that way she can gauge what you need.

“I’ll leave some money out so you can order pizza, okay?” You nod. “Also there’s a pint of the ice cream you like in the freezer.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my little honeybee.” With a final pat of your knee and a wink sent in the direction of your book, your mother sweeps out of the room, and a little while later she is out the door.

Alone in the house, you let out an exhale, before heading to the kitchen.

Opening the designated take-out-menu-drawer, you scrounge for the one belonging to a local pizza place. You go ahead and order now, knowing that it might take awhile since the place is in downtown Hawkins.

You realize, setting the phone down, that you don’t know what to do with yourself once you’ve got the chance to do whatever you please.

You retrieve your book to read on the couch until your dinner arrives, not only for a change of scenery, but because you’ll need to be out in the living room to watch an episode of your favorite show in a while anyhow.

You’ve only sat momentarily when you hear it. Hear him. When you hear his music, specifically.

Billy Hargrove lives a few doors down from you, just close enough that you can always hear when he comes home, music blaring—not that differently from the volume you play it at when alone in your car—and doors slamming.

You don’t know him personally, only from school. Only as this pretty boy who’s been in Hawkins a few months.

You know enough that you hate the way people at school look at him. Like he’s an object. Like he’s this foreign being just because he came all the way from sunny California. The way they talk about him. About his ass, or his car, or his little redhead sister.

You know he’s pretty. You’d never deny that. But he’s just like the rest of you, and it bothers you that people treat him—at least from what you’ve seen—like this all-powerful dude.

But you also know enough that you think maybe he doesn’t have the best home life, just from what you’ve seen when you’re not out—which is always.

Sometimes you see him walking up and down the street at various times during the day. Or you hear his car speed off.

Sometimes, though really only sometimes, you see him trailing his sister while she skateboards, either talking or sitting while she goes.

To you, he seems like a loner.

And maybe it’s because you’re one too that you see him that way. That you can see him that way.

————

Outside, Billy cups his hand around his cigarette. It’s seemingly out of habit, since it’s not windy out. His thumb slides along the spark wheel of his lighter once, twice before the flame catches. The tip glows red in the night.

He walks a little further, as he inhales deeply, closing his eyes and soaking it in. He kicks a rock, hard, trying to see if it’ll hit the post of the mailbox a few feet ahead of him.

He watches a pizza delivery car ride by and pull into a driveway. He hasn’t made it very far on his walk. The walk he wouldn’t be taking because it’s pretty damn cold outside.

But Neil Hargrove wasn’t aware that Max Mayfield had joined the Hawkins AV Club, and when there was no Max at home, he took it out on Billy, telling him he was an irresponsible waste of space.

It took Susan getting home with her daughter and explaining the situation for Neil to calm down.

But Billy’s back was aching from where he’d been slammed up against a doorframe, and frankly he wanted nothing more than to get out of the house.

So here he was.

A porch light flicked on as if whoever was inside had been waiting on that pizza. You had been—sitting on the couch and listening for car sounds.

When the delivery guy rings the doorbell you appear, and Billy realizes he knows you. That he goes to school with you. You’re very quiet. He also thinks your very pretty, and he’s never noticed that before.

You look very comfortable; all of your clothes seem to be too big. With the way the yellow outside light hits you, it gives your face a multitude of shadows. Billy thinks about some of the greek statues he learned about in a history class back when he lived in California. About how artists tended to sculpt women with real bodies.

Shit, he thinks. He’s probably staring at you. But you really are very pretty.

On the stoop, you take the pizza and set it on the table just inside the door and then hand the guy his money.

You decide not to be a dick and make sure that he gets out okay. When he backs out, you catch a flash of red out of the corner of your eye.

You wouldn’t be able to see him if it weren’t for the street lights. Billy is looking at you. You smile at him, and to your surprise, he smiles back.

“You okay?” You ask, hoping that your voice carries to him, because you don’t feel like shouting.

You watch him shrug and take another drag of his cigarette. The fingers on his free hand fidget with the ring he’s wearing, and you pretend not to notice.

“You?” He questions in return. Something about the sound of his voice makes you feel warm inside.

You shrug back, and he lets out a breath of a laugh, before you turn around to go inside and he continues with his walk.

You kick the door shut and lock it behind you, thinking about Billy.

That is the most extensive conversation you’ve ever had with him, aside from one a few days after he started at Hawkins High, when he didn’t know where the auditorium was, so you walked him the whole way there. You were pretty sure he’d been embarrassed to have to ask for help, but you hadn’t been bothered at all.

In fact, that exchange outside was the most conversation you’d had with anyone outside of your mother in a while.

Most days you didn’t say a word at school, keeping to yourself, trying to get homework done any chance you could so that it didn’t actually become homework. Sometimes you had to speak with a teacher though, and of course you said thank you when someone held a door—but that was it.

Quite frankly you didn’t know what to think. Part of you hoped you’d see him again. That you’d make a friend.

You hadn’t had a friend in a very long time.

————

When your mother returns home, it is with many beans to spill.

Wendy’s new partner, who you found out was named Stephanie, was, in your mother’s words, “Hot enough to go gay for.”

Your mother had also undoubtedly had some to drink while out and about.

“Also that boy from down the street? Don’t you go to school with him?”

You start fussing with a string on your sleeve. “Yeah, why?”

“Well he was brooding on his porch when Wendy retrieved me, and he’s still wandering around outside. It’s been,” she checked her watch, “three hours.”

You scratch at your nose, thinking.

“I saw him when the pizza got here.”

Your mother hums. “Well, I’m going to go shower the art gallery off of me and then probably stay up too late reading.”

“Okay.”

She smiles sweetly at you, collecting the pile of rings and other jewelry that she’d taken off and set on the counter while talking to you, and then you’re alone again.

You flatten your body over the countertop, bending at the waist and stretching so that your fingers can grip the other side.

You think about Billy out there. He was obviously going through something. And maybe it isn’t any of your business, but you hate the idea of him being alone, wallowing in self-pity. Not that you have any room to talk.

You straighten, walking carefully so as to not allow your socked feet to slip along the floor, and find yourself reaching for your coat.

Shoving your feet into a pair of shoes, you flip on the porch light once again, and make your way outside.

Across the street, Billy is resting against a low wall that has a mailbox set into it.

Looking both ways out of habit, you make your way towards him, stopping a few feet away. He looks up at you, both hands on the brick underneath him. There is a half-finished cigarette in one of his hands. You find yourself wondering how much he’d smoked since he’d been out here.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He quirks a brow at you.

“You’ve been out here a long time, you know that?”

Billy glances at his watch. “Seems so.”

“Not cold?”

“‘M fucking freezing my ass off out here.”

You try and choose your words carefully, not wanting to push too hard. “Seems like you could solve that problem if you went inside.”

“Are you worried about me or something, Y/N?”

Trying not to think about the way your name sounded leaving his mouth, you admit to your crimes.

“Yeah, actually. You were out here earlier, and my mom said she saw you when she left and when she got home. I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”

Something in Billy’s face softens. “Yeah?”

You exhale, your breath leaving a plume of air in front of you.

“Yeah.”

“Well then I guess I better get my ass inside, huh?”

You stuff your hands into your pockets and realize what you’ve got in there.

“Here.” You pull out a little hand warmer packet an hold it out to him.

Billy laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, you think. Charming and hearty. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

————

At school Monday, you make your way to the lunch table you’ve claimed, grass squishing under your feet.

You flip open your book, shove one leg under you.

It’s only been a little while of munching on grapes and forcing yourself to concentrate before you feel a weight drop onto the bench across from you, shifting the old table a little.

You look up. Billy Hargrove looks back.

He throws his bag on the worn wood, slaps a book of his own on top of that.

You’re confused at his appearance, and he seems to sense that.

“I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”

You feel yourself heat up, and sit on one of your hands because you also feel like you could cry.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[cripplecharacters]

oh yeah another question abt intellectual disability: what do people with moderate id speak like? i assume they wouldnt be perfectly articulate but i know making them talk like cavemen would be bad too. i do want it to be clear that they have language difficulties, but im not sure how to do that realistically. so what kinds of grammar errors are actually common? would it make sense to have them mix up words with similar pronunciation, or have difficulty discerning the differences in implications between words with similar meanings (like "pretty" vs "attractive")? do people with id ever 'imagine context' the way people(well, me) do when half-asleep where the brain mishears a statement as something completely unrelated? would spatial and situational awareness be impaired? also this is kind of a different question but if you can give advice on what to do with game mechanics for an id character in an rpg, that would be nice! i already have the stats figured out for every character and theres no stat that i think would be strongly affected by id but in terms of depicted fighting style and other mechanics maybe thered be some stuff informed by it (i cant do anything too complex though, im using rpg maker vx ace). idk! im spitballing here. main thing i need to know is how to write dialogue for a character with id ^_^

Hi! We have a post somewhat about this that you might find useful, I'll try to go over the other questions below!

Keep in mind my ID is mild (and on the milder side of that) so my answer will be all second-hand knowledge from talking to people with moderate ID in my SPED years.

A lot of it will depend on what condition causes they have. People with Williams syndrome have very “normal” verbal skills majority of the time and you can't really tell in my experience. On the other hand if they're autistic you can potentially guess from the tone of the voice e.g. they speak in a very loud and monotone way. People with Down syndrome are very likely to have a speech disorder, someone with cerebral palsy might slur their words, etc.

A lot of people with ID might be less talkative than your average person (there's definitely exceptions). So your character could use shorter sentences, simple sentences (in the grammar sense), prefer to use other forms of communication for things that don't require speech (e.g., nodding instead of saying “Yes, I agree”, or doing a thumbs up, etc.), or have to be prompted to actually answer/take part in the conversation.

I personally don't recall ever hearing the “mixing words with similar pronunciation” in someone's actual speech, maybe unless they learned the language from reading rather than hearing it? If that's the case, then ID could affect their speech more than if they didn't have it, otherwise I'd assume that the character might have brain damage or is maybe hard of hearing and simply mixes them up because they can't recognize/hear the difference between them.

Mixing words based on specific meaning makes much more sense in my opinion (probably because I do that myself lol). Synonyms or words that might make sense in one context but not the other are the worst. Your example here is great! When someone has ID they might take away the wrong meaning out of a word and use it incorrectly because of that. E.g., their parents used to take them camping to a forest with lots of bugs, they don't like bugs, they can later call something “foresty” to mean “with lots of bugs” even if it doesn't have much to do with an actual forest. This might make more sense for a character with more severe ID (or if they're just young) but using “attractive” when you'd normally say “pretty” makes sense for someone with moderate ID in my opinion.

Something that can also affect speech of someone with ID is word repetition. Not really in the echolalia sense (though it can be that too) but just using stock phrases that get repetitive over time. I try to edit it out from my posts but you can still kinda see it. For some people it will be ending most sentences with the same word, for someone else it will be starting two paragraphs with the same three words without realizing even though they're right next to each other or overusing “maybe” and “if” to start sentences.

As for the “imagining context” while mishearing something, I'm not sure if I know what you mean by it so I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I don't do it lol

Situational awareness is definitely impacted for all people with ID but to different degrees. I don't know if it's part of the diagnostic criteria but it might as well be. When the person's ID is mild it might look like someone who's just kinda unaware of what goes around them, maybe don't recognize that they're doing something that could end up badly. The more severe the intellectual disability the more obvious it is, the person might elope (wander off) and not be able to find their way back, not be able to use cooking utensils safely because they don't recognize the risks in real time (not really in the “not realizing that the knife is sharp” way if they have moderate ID, more like “not realizing that you need to be careful when putting things on hot oil or you can get burned”), assuming that people are automatically safe to be around, things like that.

Spatial awareness doesn't affect everyone, but one of the biggest comorbidities of ID is dyspraxia, which does affect it a lot. There are people with mild ID with severe dyspraxia, and severely ID people with no dyspraxia. It varies.

Unfortunately I have never played any RPGS and I'm not really familiar with the mechanics. Here's an old ask about intellectually disabled characters engaged in combat, hopefully it's useful?

If you want some real-life resources for hearing how intellectually disabled people talk, I really recommend this playlist. It's a bunch of interviews with people with Down syndrome and you can see that they're all very different from each other despite having the same disability.

I hope this helps! mod Sasza

[deoidesign]

Happy webcomics day!!!

I'm not home (on a trip right now with family), but I still want to talk a little bit about my process, so I did what I could to find some wip shots 🧡

Plus, I'd also like to update my extremely patient readers with a little taste of what's to come!!!

Step one, of course, is writing.

When I'm writing I have four documents open. A "dump" document, a "yes this!" Document, an outline document, and a drawing canvas!

In the dump document, I put ANYTHING. complete stream of consciousness. The 'yes this' document is where I put anything useful from the dump document, and the outline is, of course, the outline. The drawing canvas is for me to sketch out problems and ideas and get sort of a different angle on things, since I can't really visualize.

Once I have a book completely written, I start thumbnailing!

My thumbnails pretty much look like this. Text, sketchy poses, indications of expression and maybe environment...

I thumbnail the entire book at once. I don't let myself do any edits on it until it's done, but I take note of edits I'd like to make! Then, once the first draft is out, I edit.

I'll move entire scenes, delete whole episodes, bring in bits from the end to have proper foreshadowing... Etc! It's a long process that makes my arcs feel much more complete and something I can be really proud of.

I can only do this when I'm really ahead, though, so that's why I've been on a long hiatus!!! I was forced to work without my process for a few arcs, and the difference is so huge to me that I refuse to let myself do it again. It makes a loner hiatus, but work way more worth waiting for!

Next step is lineart!

Yes, I skip sketches! I go right into lines.

I save every head I've ever drawn, and that lets me copy paste in a basic head angle. Then I redo the face, fix up the hair, etc. so it fits my panel, and then I draw the rest of the body!

This seriously saves me so much time, but less so for the drawing (i still draw a ton of heads and I'm very fast) and more just for helping me skip sketching entirely!

Then I do character flats, which since all my lines are closed that goes pretty quickly (slowest part is Steve's hair, I refuse to use a brush cause every one I've made looks terrible!!!)

And then I draw the backgrounds!

Which, I keep layered, clean, and HUGE so I can use them throughout the arc.

I used to feel bad doing this, but then I realized... It's not like backgrounds "change" irl. So why make them change in my comics...? It saves me so much time, but it ALSO lets me put in more detail per background! I draw probably 3 very large backgrounds per episode like this, and then I draw maybe 5-10 unique backgrounds for single panels per episode as well. I save these too, but they're rarely re-used.

And then my panels are done!!!

So there's a bit of my process for you all!!!

Happy webcomics day 🧡🧡🧡

And here's my comic, if you haven't read it and want to see the end result of this process, or if you have read it and would enjoy a re-read with the extra knowledge:

Or, if you would prefer books I have those too!

Happy to elaborate on any step, as well!

I make comics extremely quickly and as my full time job, and my process allows me to easily manipulate my format as well. I'm happy to share any of my knowledge if you have questions!!!

[oopsimbug]

in which… y/n is stubborn, and harry is still an asshole

a.k.a. regency harry pt. 2

a/n: gah… i literally dont know what to say… how about: oh my god i am so sorry for taking so long! school, two jobs, a lack of inspiration and literally hating my own writing made sure i was unable to post for an entire YEAR AND FIVE MONTHS!!!! i DEEPLY apologise. i hope this is alright? let me know what you think! and yes, there WILL be a third part, hopefully out before the earth is enveloped by the sun?

pairing: regency era! harry styles x reader, enemies to lovers

summary: again, think little women, but with you instead of jo and harry instead of laurie… but harry is an asshole… a RELENTLESS asshole

warnings: harry is still a GIANT ass, all enemies no lovers, lots of really mean things said to each other, they literally truly hate one another like i have my work cut out for me trying to redeem this couple :’)

word count: 10.8k (smaller than my first chapter, but god did i struggle getting over the 9k mark… i literally hate myself)

read part one here!!

Money…

It was what made the world spin around. 

Unfortunately, the L/ns did not have as much of it as they used to. 

This was why, when their mother needed money to visit their father, who fell very ill, Y/n set out to find a job.

Replacing her mother at her job in the nurse's office wasn’t going to work- she was horrible with sitting still for too long. Besides, her hands were far too shaky to hold silly little fiddly needles. No, there was no chance she would do that. 

She could try to get a job at a shop- a bakery possibly? But no, she had little patience for old people, who were always either very interesting and passionate, which she loved, or very snooty and cold, which she despised with every cell of her being- and unfortunately, the majority of customers were the elderly, who shopped when they had nothing else to do during the day, and they were predominantly of the latter kind. 

Y/n was positively puzzled- stupendously stumped and magnificently muddled. She knew she was talented, but what job would she fulfill that would be of use and make a substantial pay? She pondered that all morning as she completed her chores- tending to the animals and picking up more wood. Once inside, she stoked the fire, made two cups of tea and sat at the dining table. 

“Saf!” she called to her sister upstairs. “Bring your packet and come to the table- it’s 9:30!”

At the age of 13, girls were forced to graduate school. Ma and Y/n, who didn’t believe this was enough of an education, devised a plan- once graduated, the L/n girls would do tutoring sessions with Y/n, who was passionate and proficient in all areas of English, which was what the girls would require the most to function in the world. She would also help with arithmetic- though it was not her strong point, she was confident in the skills they would probably need. Safia was under the tutoring of Y/n, as would Ula the next year. 

As she waited for the pitter-patter of Saf’s feet down the stairs, she thought to herself. Unfortunately, all natural thoughts seemed to lead in the same direction lately- all pertaining to a certain tall and lanky individual with brown hair. She was not moping, that was for sure- Y/n did not mope. She was not even upset about him choosing a different woman over her- that was a fleeting insecure thought held only in the heat of the moment that night. No, she was mad. Furious, in fact. How dare he- how dare he?! He strung her along, purposefully got her hopes up for the mere sake of making fun of her- he embarrassed her and then had the utter gall to smirk and wink about it afterwards! Y/n always had a temper, but this was anger on a whole different level. This was searing, hot, burning, blood-red vexation. Her hands began to ball into fists- she wanted to hit something, break something, hurt him and only him. 

However, before she could fantasise about all the ways she would cause him pain, she felt a soft arm on her shoulder. She must’ve been caught in a trance, unable to hear her sister come down the stairs and call her name once she reached the bottom and found Y/n unresponsive, as Safia’s face held deep concern, eyebrows knit together as she repeated her question. 

“Are you okay, Y/n?” her tentative and soft voice carefully asked, placing a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, ever the sweetheart. “You’re not feeling ill, are you? I know Liz was rid of her sickness a few weeks ago, but it may have lingered around the house.”

She smiled up at her younger sister, who moved her hand to feel her cheek, after finding no suspiciously hot temperature on her forehead. She shook her head and let out a small laugh, all of the rage for him leaving her thoughts. 

“I’m okay Saf… just thinking…” she replied honestly. She was just thinking… thinking of how she would pelt that damned boy with logs of firewood. Or maybe she should let Flynn at him- she had already told the Clydesdale of what had happened. Maybe he could stomp him down till he quivered and shook with fear, begging both of them for forgiv-

“Thinking about what?” Her sister’s voice pulled her out of her reverie once again.

Y/n looked up at her face, smiled brightly, pulled out the adjacent chair and patted it lovingly, before replying with a jolly tone.

“Nothing that you should worry about… Now, are you ready to venture into the world of Hedda Gabler?”

Her sister smiled sweetly before sitting down, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Of course I am!”

“Great! Because today, we are going to be analysing gender and how it influences power within our passage!” Y/n was always so excited to teach her about the books, poems and plays that she liked- there was no way she would teach her sister boring and dull theory, or pieces that only reflected a man’s perspective. No, she had an opportunity to open her sister’s mind and hopefully make a lasting impact on it- one that encouraged her to pursue her dreams without needing the opinion or permission from a man. And she wasn’t going to waste it. 

“Now, open to our bookmarked page, and let’s begin…”

*****

After finishing classes, Y/n got dressed and ran out the door before her sisters could follow her, unable to take all of them to the village on Flynn, and not wanting to upset anyone. She buckled the saddle into place and hopped on before riding the path all the way to town. After tying Flynn up with hay and water, she straightened out her dress and apron and began walking, dodging men who gave her glances of annoyance for her slightly messy loose hair, mussed on the fast journey on the Clydesdale. She had bigger things to worry about, despite what Liz would say…

She was picking up some lemons from the market, which Ula insisted on getting, convinced that they were necessary to her social status in her school, where pickled lemons were the talk of the town. While the need for lemons didn’t sound dire to Y/n, Liz benevolently gifted her extra loose change, justifying it with something about “knowing what it was like to not fit with others at school”. And while Y/n didn’t believe money like five whole dollars should go to waste on lemons, she still searched the shelves intently, looking for some that weren’t too costly. While leaning forward, she walked through an aisle, scouring the lowest shelf for them, unaware of the person she was about to bump into. Curse her clumsiness! 

She walked right into the unsuspecting person before standing to full height, apologies spilling out of her rapidly as she helped the older lady regain balance. Y/n had never seen her before- an older woman, around her own mother’s age, with brown hair that was greying from the roots and forest green eyes that twinkled, reminding her all too much of a certain boy, but she pushed those thoughts away. She also looked of money, with her elegant dress, shoes and shiny jewels.

Y/n began spilling out apologies as it was her own fault for the collision, and the kind lady forgave her each time with a “That’s all right, my dear”, with calming energy radiating from her. Once the two women had settled they let out breathy chuckles at the incident. Beginning to move back to her search for cheap citrus was halted, however, when Y/n noticed the woman seemingly struggling to find what she was looking for. Y/n observed covertly as the lady would gingerly pick up a bottle of what looked to be cologne, look at the label for a few seconds, squint as if to make out what it was saying, before putting it back nervously and repeating with the next. 

Y/n noted that when she would “read”, her eyes didn’t stop to comprehend the words. She needed help, and Y/n was not one to shy away from that fact. 

“Hello,” Y/n began. 

The lady smiled sweetly as she replied, her green eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Hello, love.” she gently replied. 

Y/n wanted to help without seeming patronising, so she was careful with her words. “So, what brings you here, Ma’am?”

She looks around, then down at the glass bottle in her hand before looking back at Y/n. She fumbles and hesitates as she answers.

“Oh- well- I am looking for this shoe polish, but… I seem to be having a bit of trouble…”. She went beet red before she whispered in a meek and quiet squeak only fairies could hear. Fairies or those who had experience with shy sweethearts as Y/n had with her Saf. 

“You-“ she slightly huffed a bitter laugh through her nose. “You probably can already tell, but… I can’t read…” she confessed, thoroughly embarrassed.

If Y/n wanted to help the woman before, her holding cologne that would most certainly tarnish leather while shopping for shoe polish convinced her utterly and completely. She did not hesitate- not even for a beat, determined to show that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all! 

“I can help you! I never use shoe polish- my shoes are always getting muddy anyways, and it would only be a pain to scrub them for nothing, so I don’t have any suggestions in mind, but if you have an idea of the type of polish you wanted, I could help you out!” She dropped personal anecdotes into the conversation, as she often did when conversing with strangers, finding it easier to comfort others to relax around her when they knew she was an open book.

“Oh thank you, my darling! I am looking for a dark brown and black coloured polish that would work best for making leather loafers shiny.” 

And with that, Y/n began her search, starting with going to the correct section, before beginning to scan the tiers of the shelves carefully, looking for what the lady wanted. The woman followed her and began a friendly conversation with her as she searched. 

“My nephew needs new polish for his shoes. I would have told him to do it himself, but he’s out of town, you see. Went out of town, about a week’s trip away. I couldn’t send my maid either- I wished for her to take some time off while there were less people in the house, you see. So here I arrived, figuring I could just find it myself. Ah, how foolish.” She then sighed once more after simmering in laughter for a bit, looking wistfully at another tin she could not decipher the contents of. 

Y/n found the two tins of shoe polish, holding them out to her while responding firmly. “Ma’am, you are not foolish at all. At least you tried! And look, here you are helping your nephew who’s out of town, after letting your helpers take a break! That’s not foolish, that’s compassionate,”.

The lady smiled warmly, the wrinkles next to her eyes crinkling and creasing beautifully as she did. “Oh, darling, you are very sweet for using your gift to help those who cannot. Thank you!” She lightly squeezed Y/n’s cheek playfully before walking to the counter, Y/n following after her before placing the tins on the table for the cashier to process. 

“You are very welcome Ma’am.” The lady began to pull open the small embroidered coin purse she had in her slightly wrinkled yet sturdy hands, fishing for a coin before dropping it into Y/n’s palm and winking. 

Y/n’s eyes went wide as she attempted to hand the coin back. 

“Ma’am, I couldn’t possibly. I was just trying to be of service, truly. Please take your money.” 

But the woman was not having a lick of it. Her face grew stern, her eyes fiery as she quickly snapped back. “Don’t you dare try to give that back, it’s yours!”

Y/n reluctantly smiled and nodded gratefully before walking back to the shelves to continue her search for lemons as the gentle tinkle of the doorbell indicated the sweet lady’s exit. She could not stop thinking about her, however. Why was it that men were taught to read and write and build and farm, but women were only taught how to be good mothers and wives? That woman could learn to read- anyone could, really. All she needed was a teacher… 

Suddenly, Y/n had an idea. One that caused her to drop everything she was doing and run out the door to look for the woman. Teaching! Y/n could teach the woman and in return, get a bit of money! After looking around, she found her walking down the cobbled street, seconds from entering a very expensive and fancy carriage. 

“WAIT MA’AM!” Y/n cried, weaving past the people and carts on the busy street as she ran to her. The lady’s ears perked and she looked back, locked eyes with Y/n and froze with concern, allowing the younger girl to catch up. 

“Yes, my dear?” She asked, once Y/n had caught up and was attempting to catch her breath. After a few deep, embarrassingly wheezy breaths, Y/n finally calmed herself down enough to respond. 

“Icouldteachyou-”, she said exasperated all in one sentence before punctuating it with a heaving breath. After taking a lungful or two of air, she clarified to the poor confused woman.

“Ma’am, I could teach you how to read! If you would like!”

The woman’s eyes opened wider in astonishment before her face brightened with a radiant smile. “You would teach me?” She asked, almost flabbergasted.

“Yes, of course!” Y/n responds, enthusiastically. “I am currently teaching my sisters how to read, so I know how to do it! I could help you too if you would like!”

The woman’s warm and grateful smile shone brighter than the sun. And Y/n’s heart stuttered with excitement when she asked to exchange addresses for further communication. 

This was it… she was finally going to help her family.

******

It was four days later when the L/n residence received two letters, both with express stamps on them, signaling their importance. One was a letter from their father, which the girls were keen to read immediately, but waited for their mother to come home so they could unveil it together. The other, however, was mysteriously addressed to and only to Y/n. How peculiar! 

“Y/n you must open it in front of us- what if it is a secret admirer hoping to eagerly profess their love to you!” Ula whined. Liz shook her head and looked at the youngest girl. 

“If Y/n wants to keep this to herself, she exercises her right to do so”. Liz’ eyes drift to Y/n’s slowly as she continues. “…However…”, before finally running and springing onto her. “You MUST tell us if it is!” 

Y/n rolled her eyes at her sisters, despite Liz’s best attempts to put an end to the “unladylike” and “brash” behaviour. “Come on, there is no way it will be a boy… have you ever even seen me with one? I would run circles around them in every sense before their tiny minds could even get a singular word out!” 

Y/n, though thoroughly believing in her statement that yes, she probably could outshine any boy in the town, also- in the back of her mind- registered that yes, maybe she was overcompensating and exaggerating just the smallest bit in order to shield her heart, still sore from the events of Tilly Hughes’ ball and that wicked boy. Her sisters chuckled at her musing as she made herself comfortable on the sofa chair next to the fire, all three of her sisters huddling behind her in order to get a good view of the elegantly folded and wax-sealed letter that Y/n began to tear open. Once the pristine paper was unfolded, she stood up and began to pace as she read- her sisters giggling and breathing over her shoulder was doing no good, and she needed to focus. It read:

Before Y/n could process the words written on the paper, Liz narrated the letter to Saf and Ula- the latter began to squeal mercilessly, while Liz grinned from ear to ear, pores radiating with pride for her sister. 

*******

The house was astonishing. It was grand, it was elegant, it was pristine.

Above all, it was capital!

The trek down the natural and lush path of trees and fields was all a ruse- Y/n knew Ms Ophelia was a rich woman, but she but any preconceived notion of what her house may look like while trekking the trail was completely, utterly, jaw droppingly decimated. Once reaching the end of the driveway (walking ever so slowly to take the majesty in), Y/n and Flynn were met with pristine hedges that bordered the entire property. Two large white marble columns with oil lamps attached signaled the beginning of the courtyard. In between them, was a large opening where Y/n could see the greenest grass she had ever witnessed, a center hedge path, and behind it, Ms Ophelia’s grand home. Y/n’s mouth was hung open as she approached the large, stark white building, with its covered entrance, wide expanse and huge windows. 

It was a stretch for it to even be called a house. It was a mansion- a manor. Y/n resolved that there must be a plethora of family members that justified the sheer volume of space there was to occupy. She stepped off of Flynn, held the end of his reign, and walked through the grassy courtyard and to the front door. She would have taken Flynn to the stables, not wanting her first introduction to her well-paying student to be interrupted by the attention-hungry Clydesdale, however, the house was so grand she could not even begin to wonder where the hell the stables could be. Instead, she smoothed the light wrinkles out of the frock that Ula picked for her, slightly disgruntled when remembered the lack of a waistcoat she had on. She attempted to fix and flattened the now slightly frizzy hair that Liz had spent almost an entire hour to style, mussed a tad due to the breeze created while riding Flynn, before taking a deep breath in... and rang the doorbell.

She heard some muffled clattering, before hurried footsteps approached, growing louder and louder before they reached the mahogany door, pulled open to reveal a positively ecstatic Ms Ophelia- her brown hair pulled back with a hair pin, but similar in frizziness to Y/n. Her eyes squinting with her warm closed lip smile, the green irises truly dazzling with excitement. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant green and white silk dress, her chest adorned with a single thin gold necklace threaded through a small locket. 

"Y/n!!! So nice to see you!” The lady took Y/n and Flynn in with a charming smile, cooing at the latter before stepping forward to give the Clydesdale a stroke down his white blaze and a scratch on his chin, causing him to preen, closing his eyes a soft huff of pleasure. She then looked to Y/n. “Please, my farmhand Thomas will take this handsome boy to the stables out back."

She looked past Y/n to the front garden and called to the man Y/n hadn't noticed had been planting flowers. He had shiny blonde hair, short from the sides while the top was long and messy, slightly damp with sweat. He pushed the golden mess out of his face and smoothed it back, revealing a bit of dirt on the sun-kissed skin of his forehead. Descending down, there were thick eyebrows, hazel brown eyes squinting in the glare of the sun, a strong nose, and full lips that were pursed and curved into a sweet and friendly smile. He stood, brushed himself off, approached Y/n, and wordlessly took Flynn with a charming smile, nodding to her before walking around to the side of the house. After losing sight of him, Y/n looked back to Ms Ophelia, who opened the door and gestured Y/n in. 

"Please do come in!" As Y/n stepped through the threshold of the house, Ms Ophelia continued. 

"I was just about to make myself a cup of tea- I warmed up enough water for the both of us. How do you take it?" The older woman began walking, Y/n trailing behind her as they entered the beautiful eggshell white kitchen with purple accents.

"Oh, well if it isn't a bother, I take one sugar and only a bit of milk" Y/n watched as the woman poured the boiling tea into the two mugs. 

"Huh!" Ms O looked at Y/n funny, before looking down at the cups she was working on. "Me too! Just enough milk to make it a very dark brown?"

Y/n’s eyes begin to light up incredulously. "Yeah! That's right! My sisters all think that I never put enough in!" 

"My nephew does too!" 

The women looked at each other and smiled- they both knew there was some sort of connection that brought the two of them together, and that they would be kindred spirits. 

*******

The lesson went swimmingly, as agreed by both Y/n and Ms Ophelia (sorry- just Ophelia, the older woman had been very adamant about that). They had sat and begun with the alphabet, and while Ophelia was quite bashful when Y/n corrected her, they knew that with time, they would become more comfortable. Eventually, despite her consistent imploring that she stay for dinner, Y/n insisted she must go home. 

"But my nephew will be home soon! He is such a charming, well articulated boy! Loves reading and the such- You two would get along so delightfully!" She clapped her hands eagerly at the thought, however, Y/n, softly stroking a saddled Flynn- thanks to Thomas, who wordlessly passed her the reins before walking off- looked at her new student and friend with a soft smile. 

"I'm sure anyone who grew up around you would be a wonderful friend, Ophelia, however I really must get home. My family will be expecting me soon."

Once goodbyes had been exchanged, they agreed to meet once again in a few days. And with that, Y/n mounted Flynn and began to ride the now dusky ride home. She may have dawdled a little- the sun was still so warm, and the breeze was beautiful. Flynn moved at a comfy pace as she appreciated the beauty of the world around her. 

However, that beauty was soon not in her focus when Y/n noticed someone riding towards her in the distance. She continued her pace, and as the figure approached, ready to return a polite nod if they were to greet her. As the figure continued on further, she squinted and began to make out a mop of brown hair, and a black blob of a coat, before all too quickly she recognised those sharp green eyes and the nose and those stupidly plush lips as he trotted closer and closer and god- oh no…

Y/n began to feel her stomach drop.

"Well well well! Look who it is!" That snide voice, that blasted smirk that taunted her. 

It was her arch nemesis.

His horse slowed down while she did nothing to stop Flynn, walking completely past him without even acknowledging him- her eyes forward and steely. She thought she had escaped him but she heard footsteps coming closer, however, and soon, Y/n was walking side by side with none other than Harry Styles. 

"What's with the cold shoulder, sweetheart? Have I done something to upset you?" He taunted in a teasing tone. 

"I am not your sweetheart, and don't you have a party to crash, loverboy?" She rolled her eyes and kept moving forward, him keeping an identical pace beside her.

"Ooft, take it easy darling, you’re going to hurt my. Large. Throbbing. Swollen. Red. Hot. Heart!" He punctuated each word with a beat, and Y/n's face became hot; she began to scrunch the sweaty leather reigns harder into her palms at the obvious innuendo. Harry saw this and grinned wickedly for getting to her, a malicious giggle even seeping out of him- he enjoyed this. He enjoyed relishing in her awkwardness. Once his giggles calmed, he shook his head and continued. "What are you doing out so late anyways? Meeting up with a secret lover?" 

Y/n couldn't even dignify that with a response, and merely scoffed and rolled her eyes again at the preposterous accusation. He noticed and continued.

"Hey, you scoff at that now, but who knows. It seems to be the quiet, pure ones that surprise me the most. The most proper girls always turn out to be the dirtiest. So, no- I don't think it's out of this world for a little thing like you to be getting your hands or mouth sullen for a bit of pleasure. Did you see the way you trembled for me the night we met? And the way you cried when I was paying attention to that little French girl? Don't lie, you were charmed, and seeing me with someone else broke your fragile. Little. Heart." 

He was unbelievable for bringing that up again… Y/n felt her rage boiling now. She responded bitterly and slowly. "Please, you are so full of yourself…. And of course you would know all about women and their sexuality, now wouldn't you"

"Hard to scorn someone for being likeable, isn't it, Grumpy?"

Y/n had to stop her horse fully and glare at the idiot. She looked deep into his eyes, calmed down and began to smile. She was in complete and utter disbelief. She shook her head and giggled a peal of bitter laughter. Harry’s face darkened in irritation. 

“What’s so funny, huh?”

Y/n’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as her giggles quelled. "It's funny that you think you are likable, Harry. You see, there is a difference between being desirable, and being easy. And it’s only the thoughtless ones like you who seem to be incapable at telling the difference. Not a thought behind those eyes, is there?... I wouldn't be surprised if you'd thought with your cock so much that your brain had atrophied due to the lack of use. You're not likeable, Harry Styles... you're just a plaything for widows and repressed virgins who wish to piss off their fathers to use and discard. And I cannot help but feel sorry for you for being the only one who cannot see that."

If she was not mistaken, Y/n believed she saw a bit of surprise and possibly even hurt in his eyes before they hardened, their playfulness completely drained. She did not think she was going to say that at all, and in any other situation, she would have thought that to be such a mean thing to say... But she had been sitting on that for far too long, and he had pushed her over with the teasing and the cockiness. She had had enough. Harry Styles needed to be brought down a peg or two.

They stared each other down fiercely, neither wanting to stand down. Then, he quickly shot at her. "You are nothing but a poor virgin with a gabby mouth that you wish was stuffed with my cock." he spat with nothing but poisoned malice.

Ouch… He was trying to catch her off guard, an attempt to garner some pride back, and while it immediately hurt Y/n, the wound of embarrassment growing in her heart, she knew she could not let him win. She quickly locked and loaded, before pulling the trigger without thinking. 

"And you are nothing but a dirty harlot who wastes his privilege of manhood on being a tart to women who don't even want him." she spat back at him. 

Targets acquired and shots fired, the two needed to go home and lick their wounds, crudely bandage their bullet holes and hope the sharp pain of the words spoken were only a temporary detriment to their own health, but an everlasting hellscape to each other. Both wanted to see the other in pain. Both wanted to win.

So with that, Harry made a big show about rearing his ashy grey horse up and around, before both of them spurred their horses forward into a gallop and away from the other- both carrying furrowed eyebrows, slightly hurt feelings (that they would never admit to), and a newfound degree of ire for each other…

He won’t get away with this.

********

Once tacking up Flynn, Y/n stomped her way to the house, still unbelievably enraged by the verbal warfare engaged with that brunette ass. She knew she wanted some alone time to calm down, but once entering her cosy home, she was bombarded with questions from her sisters- mainly Ula.

“Was the house big?!”

“What kind of dress was Ophelia wearing?!”

“How many servants did she have?!”

“Did she have lots of paintings on the walls?!”

“Any handsome sons?!”

“Did she tell you if she’s been to any exotic places like France or Switzerland?!”

“How was your day, Y/n?”

The last question was asked, of course, by her angelic sister Safia. Y/n lovingly rolled her eyes at the incessant questions from Ula and answered Saf’s tenderly. “My day was alright Saf, thank you for asking.”

“That’s good- I wished hard on all the dandelions I could find outside that you would come home safe and sound.” Y/n’s heart melted- she walked over to the younger girl and kissed her forehead with so much love and passion.

Ula observed the tenderness of the exchange and rolled her eyes. “Safia is perfect”, she taunted with a roll of her eyes before returning to her previous exercise of pulling up on the septum of her apparently “hideous” small aquiline nose to shape it into a more button nose, which she believed to be more elegant. Y/n looked back at Saf and whispered lovingly in her ear.

“Never stop wishing for the people you love the most, okay Saf?” Y/n gave her one more kiss before moving to the youngest sister with the most spunk besides Y/n herself. She gently swatted her hand away from her nose before lovingly stroking the bridge as she pulled Ula in for a hug from behind.

“And you, little missy! Stop trifling with the features your parents so lovingly passed to you. That nose isn’t a curse, it’s a gift. Treat it as one.” She kissed Ula’s head too before heading further into the house to greet her older sister and her mother. But as they had dinner, Y/n could not stop thinking about how much she hated Harry… little did she know, however, that her older sister Liz observed her suspiciously throughout the night.

Once in their room, hair and teeth brushed, dressed in their respective pyjamas- Liz’s a dainty white nightgown akin to the one Harry so scandalously described, and Y/n’s a mismatched patchwork buttoned set that Ma had made out of Y/n’s old clothes that she was too big to fit into, yet could bear to part with. Tucked into their beds, Liz turned to face Y/n and began.

“If Ms Ophelia was so very nice, what is the problem?”

Y/n turned to face her with furrowed brows. “What problem? There is no problem”

Liz rolled her eyes and shot back. “Yeah yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, Y/n. You can fool Ula- which isn’t saying much, but you can't fool me, so why don't we pretend like I tirelessly needled it out of you and you skip to the bit where you tell me what’s wrong”

Y/n sighed a long, hard, tired and frustrated sigh, before ultimately giving in. “I ran into a sworn enemy on the ride back home today…”

Liz shot up, eyes wide and mouth agape.“Who?!?”

“Harry Styles.”

Elizabeth stared incredulously at her sister, propped her pillows so she was sitting up, and began needling Y/n for more information. “What did he say? What did he do? Why is he your enemy?”

Y/n sighed. There was no way she was going to get to sleep until she told Liz everything. So she began…“You know of his reputation, yes?”

Y/n’s older sister gasped again. “Y/n… don’t tell me… he… with you?”

Y/n immediately understood what she was insinuating. “NO! No way! Never! Not in a million years! You know I hate everything to do with boys. I cannot believe you would think that of me!”

Liz sighed and sunk into herself in relief. “Thank god! I didn’t think you would but… unfortunately his reputation is quite… damning to say the least. Why, it was only last week he was with Amelie… did you see the way he returned her to the group? He didn’t even bother to wipe her lipstick from his lips! What a brute!”

Y/n brought her blanket up even closer to her face until only her eyes were visible, and mumbled her confession. “I know… I told him exactly so today…”

The older sister slowly started at her, tone changing completely to one low and testing. “What...That he is a brute?”

“Yes of course!” Y/n immediately shot back, exasperated.

Her sister stared at her with her mouth agape and eyebrows intensely furrowed. “...WHY?! Haven’t you heard of his family?!?” At Y/n’s confused face and shaking head, Liz took a deep breath and began. His father lives all the way in New York… Ma told me it was because he was absolutely dreadful to his wife and Harry all the time. Kept money from them, abused them, hit them- so much so that eventually they had to run away from him when he was only 10. They fled to a safe place- some cottage in the middle of nowhere? But get this- once there, his mother contracted scarlet fever and passed away. He had to walk all by himself to the nearest village to call for help- by the time medical assistance arrived, his mother was long gone. And with no other relatives bar his wicked father, he was left in the care of his devilishly deviant, yet disgustingly rich aunt.”

Y/n went completely silent. She didn’t know any of this… Of course this was deeply traumatic and saddening- but Y/n could not help it- her stubbornness was a curse, not a gift. And the curse would not allow even a tale so sorrowful allow Harry a free pass. 

“Liz- of course this is deeply tragic and traumatic- however, circumstances can only explain actions. They don’t justify them. What has happened to Harry should mean that he spends his time helping women, not putting them down… which, I guess he does by pleasuring them, but God I wish he wasn’t so smug and pompous about it… He was so- well, not nice, but normal and cheeky and charming, when we first met- it was like a switch flicked in his head and that man no longer exists”

“Of course- if he is as cruel as you say, I 100% agree. Although he has a right to hold trauma, it does not change the fact that he is but a wicked man”

The girls sit in silence for a second, contemplating. Then, ever the know it all, Liz jumped right back into her Styles Family History Lesson, giving Y/n the run down. 

“But anyways, his aunt is apparently a very influential figure! She’s rich beyond belief, and could probably control this entire town with the pulling of some strings and some money, which she most definitely has! Do not fool around with them, Y/n… especially not Harry…” Elizabeth brought her hands up to her temples to sate her sudden headache, a frequent occurrence when having to feel stressed for Y/n whenever she inevitably threw herself into apparently unacceptable situations, such as whistling in public or not wearing gloves, and had no apparent regard for the consequences. 

“What am I to do then?! He is my sworn enemy- if I see him in my general vicinity, my whole body and soul tells me to rip him to shreds! How am I supposed to see him at balls, and on random walks back home, and NOT rip my hair out of my head?!” Y/n complained with a whiny tone.

“Avoid him! Completely and utterly avoid him”

Y/n harrumphed. “...Fine…”

“Good idea- I know… plus… you know what they say.” A lilt of cheekiness entered the previously stern tone. 

“What?”

A wide smile grew on Y/n’s older sister’s face, unable to hide her amusement. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Who knows- maybe he just fancies you? You know… like likes you” 

Y/n immediately threw a spare pillow at her sister’s head and groaned, before burying her hot face under the covers, completely and utterly embarrassed. Elizabeth dodged the stray pillow as she laughed raucously at how annoyed her sister became. 

Y/n shook her head vehemently. “Never in a million years, Liz…”

Never in a million years…

*********

“Make sure you avoid making the “Z” look like the number “three”. Remember, small angled curl, then draaaaaag down to make a bigger and longer angled curl. Other than that, Ophelia, I must inform you that unfortunately my work may as well be over… because these have to be some of the best cursive letters I have ever seen- I know that I have only ever taught my younger sisters, but I am nothing short of confident that you are the fastest learner I have ever had, ever!” 

Ophelia put her hand up to her chest and let out an exasperated breathy laugh that combined a giggle and a sigh of relief. “Stop it Y/n… you nearly gave me a heart attack! Anyways, it’s not that great.” She emphatically waved her hand as if to physically shoo the thought away. “I believe that as long as I am able to write and read, who cares about the blasted handwriting. As long as it is- at the very least- legible, I don't mind a thing.”

Y/n could not emphasise this enough: she loved Ophelia. She was sweet, funny, sarcastic, naughty and brash enough to understand all of Y/n’s jokes as simply that- jokes with no malice. Y/n admired her face thoroughly in amazed silence. Ophelia glanced at her and continued. “Now, would you like a cup of tea before you go?”

Y/n was shaken out of her trance and began to pack up her books as she responded. “No, thank you. I'm okay- I really should get going though. The wind is picking up and as much as I would love to stay and chat, I don’t really think being cold and wet is how my mother wants me to return home!”

Y/n bids Ophelia farewell from inside the house before going out back to meet Flynn at the stables. However, she sees another figure tending to him, and as she arrives closer, she notices not Thomas’ blonde messy hair- but instead a soft brown colour. 

Jesus Christ, this guy will just not leave her alone, will he?!

Y/n is about three feet away when the figure finally turns, and she is once again met with the cheeky smirk of Mr Harlot Styles. He looks her up and down carefully, making her insides all squirmy under his inspection- she hated the way he made her feel so uncomfortable in her own skin. Once finding her eyes, he began. 

“Grumpy…”

“Harlot… Leave Flynn alone. He doesn’t like jaded asses.” Y/n crossed her hands over her chest and stood with a cold hard stare.

“Flynn? Pretty name.” Harry looked at Flynn and continued. “Does the angry little lady dump her frivolous complaints and girly problems onto your poor back, my friend?” Harry looked back to Y/n and continued. “ And hey, he might hate jaded asses, but apparently, he loves temper tantrum-throwing toddlers if he’s your horse.” 

If she didn’t know how horrible of a person he was, she would classify the way he was scratching Flynn’s chin as lovingly- but Harry wasn’t loving, and he certainly wasn’t capable of loving. He was a beast. Just another man who thought Y/n spent her hours with her equine companion complaining as if juvenile… and what the hell are “girly problems”?! 

Harry chimed in again, breaking her out of her frustrated train of thought. “Huh! Would you look at that, Grumpy- your jaded ass-hating “noble” steed’s loyalty can unfortunately be bought by absolute strangers!”

He smirks up at her as he pulls a sugar cube from his pocket and holds it out to Flynn, who eagerly licks it up, jutting his snout into Harry’s hand to spur some more pats out of him. Y/n let out an angry huff. “Greedy traitor…” she mumbled under her breath to her horse, before taking a deep breath and got straight to the main issue, not wanting to spend any longer talking to him than she had to. 

“What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

“God, I was just wondering when I would be in your lovely company again- you know- should I call a doctor for your hysteria? Because it is you, girly, who is consistently following me. I would be surprised due to your incessant reminders that you hate me, but I’m not. Your infatuation with me seeps through your shoddy disguise completely. Face it, Grumpy… you’re obsessed with me.” 

Y/n wanted to slap him so hard. Or at least shoot back some equally damning response, but Liz’s words echo in her ears to simply ignore him. So she simply comes closer, walking to the opposite side of Flynn and begins strapping her bag to Flynn’s side saddle pouch. 

“Your silence is deafening, Grumpy… Is this it? Are you finally admitting that you have been just another precious little schoolgirl obsessed with me this whole time? I bet you would look out your window and pray to every shooting star that floated by that you would see me again. Did you giggle with your little friends while braiding each other's hair about how much you want me? I bet you squirm under your covers in a little pure white virginal nightgown dreaming about my fingers and my tongue and my cock. I bet you're stupidly in love with me, huh Grumpy?”

Y/n hated the way he would describe typically feminine stereotypes with such condescension. She hated being treated like a little girl. Throwing Liz’s advice completely out the window, she couldn’t help but mumble under her breath- just a little something to hurt him. “What would you know about love, Daddy’s boy?…” 

If Y/n looked up from the saddle pouch she was working on, she would see Harry’s eyes blown wide with surprise. He looked so vulnerable- almost childlike- as if her comment transported him back to his father’s house. Before she noticed his silence, though, he schooled his face and began to round the horse, his eyes darkening. “And what would you know about anything? You’re just a pathetic little girl. You act as if you have experience with the world, as if you will be anything more than a boring old housewife, but you never will be…”

Y/n stared daggers into Harry as he stalked closer and closer until he was less than a foot away from her, their outerwear brushing against each other. If he simply wrapped his arms around her waist, their bodies would be flush against one another completely. Y/n had never felt so degraded. She was just another girl to him. She was just another girl to all other men. Her biggest fear was being forgotten- for her loving family- her creative sisters and amazing mother- to be forgotten… For all of the amazing women that she encountered at balls to be forgotten. To be married off and treated as property. 

Harry continues on his poisonous tirade in an unwavering cold and calm voice, striking the deepest of Y/n’s insecurities and fears with pinpoint accuracy. “You look down on my hobby of pleasuring married women, but what you don’t understand is that when you are unhappily married off within the next few years, you will be writing letters to me, begging me to relieve you. You will wish I wanted you… You will wish your husband wanted you… You will wish any man wanted you… You will wish you were special… But you're not.”

Y/n held her breath as his hands raised up from his sides, ringed fingers lightly trailing over her skirts, her waist, her arms, her shoulders. Higher and higher, they softly glided over the fabric of her puff sleeves, before reaching her face, and cupping her cheeks. Harry’s eyes slowly flitted back and forth between Y/n’s eyes and her lips. His brows furrowed and his mouth slightly opened, before lifting his right thumb to slowly pull down at her bottom lip... 

…then release the pressure created with his hold, watching- almost studying, its fullness intensely as it bounced back into place. Voice now barely above a whisper, rumbly and deep, he continues.

“You’re just another silly little girl who will be nothing but a wife someday.”

Harry’s hands moved from her cheeks to her neck, cupping her head, thumbs delicately tracing circles on the skin behind her ears, sending shivers up her spine. 

What was this? And why was it sending Y/n’s knees wobbly? She needs to snap out of it- remember her anger for him. All of her interactions with him, even this one, were merely strategies to throw her off- to dominate her. And she would not allow that.

So as Harry moved his hand to cup her neck, leaning in closer, she opened her mouth, ready to dismiss all logic and decimate the animal standing before her, attempting to kiss her just to intimidate her. Fuck everything- fuck him, fuck Liz’s advice, fuck men and their incessant need for girls to be prim and proper. Fuck all of them.

About to fire her biggest blow, all while he leaned closer and closer, his lips ever so close to touching hers, they were suddenly halted in their tracks by someone calling her name.

“Y/n!...” the voice was urgent but far away. Both Harry and Y/n looked out of the stable to see Ophelia running towards them. Y/n and Harry looked at each other and took a big step away from their close proximity as Ophelia finally reached the stables and held her hand on a wooden panel as she caught her breath, panting heavily. 

“Th-Thank-” A wheezy heave interjected her sentence. “GOD”. Another heave. “You hadn’t left yet!” She stood up straight and wiped the light sweat from her forehead with her wrist before straightening her back and walking closer to her. She raised her right hand, which held a small handkerchief, tied into a lovely little package. 

“I packed some hedgehog slice for you in case you get a little hungry on the way home!” She sighed exasperated, before looking between Y/n and Harry. 

Y/n’s heart melted a little- she came bounding all the way down just to give her a little snack? She was the sweetest woman in the world! And now Y/n was going to see her in action against the intruder to her property that was Harry Styles… Y/n was ready to see some ire and some spit hurled at him once she explained exactly what Harry had said about her and all womankind, really.

But that is not what happened.

Not at all.

Ophelia smiled warmly at Harry before looking at Y/n. “Ahh, I see you have already met my nephew, Harry!”

What. The. Hell?

Harry looked smug as anything as Ophelia continued. “He is the lovely, well articulated bookworm I was telling you about the other day!” 

Y/n gritted out a very hesitant “Nice to meet you…” as he looked at her, full of ego.

Harry then opened his mouth, presumably to tell his aunt about the intrusion that was Y/n’s presence on their land, but Ophelia quickly shut him up too. 

“And Harry, this is the bright and wonderful tutor and friend I was telling you about! Y/n is teaching me how to read and write!” 

Harry’s mouth shut immediately. It was Y/n’s turn to smirk smugly as he gritted out an “A pleasure to meet you” back. The two stared at each other steely, as if they were in a stand-off of the mind, all while Ophelia unknowingly watched on with a large smile. 

“I am sure you too will be fast friends! Don’t you agree?” Ophelia had so much hope in her voice. The two grit their teeth, not wanting to make a scene or displease the sweet Ophelia-

“Certainly…”, they manage to comment, in unison.

And after Ophelia hugs Y/n goodbye one more time, before turning and leaving, Harry tails after her, but not before giving a final glance back to Y/n. He smirked, the smile filled with boyish playfulness, but Y/n saw his eyes- those blasted green eyes clouded with taunt. He was challenging her. To what exactly- she didn’t know. To see who could hurt each other the most? To see who would win in the overall war between the two? Or was it just a smirk at her begrudging fate? That she would have to put up with him now because although Ophelia is a sweet woman, Y/n’s connection to her will never trump Harry’s- he’s her nephew. 

As Y/n saddled her was going to have to do what she wanted to the least in order to maintain both a professional and personal relationship with Ophelia, who she admired both as a student and as a friend…

She was going to have to be civil with Harry.

**********

Y/n believed wholeheartedly that it was punishment enough; that she was forced into both proximity and (at least) faux politeness with her sworn enemy- but evidently, fate had more to give. And damn, could it pack a punch!

It was almost silly that she hadn’t thought the universe had been through with her… When Y/n made the one-hour trip to Ophelia’s house, she just had to not bring her large, rainproof jacket. She just had to decide not to put Flynn’s horseshoes on, which would prevent him from slipping and sliding in the wet mud… Why would she do any of that?! It was perfectly sunny, and even a little bit warm on that Friday morning…

But no… of course, the moment she begins to wrap up her lesson with Ophelia and ride home- where she would tuck into a well-deserved late lunch and spend some time with sisters- of course it is only two days after she has discovered that her student raised and lived with her sworn enemy- it is then and only then that she finds herself stuck at their house, as a giant thunderstorm magically appears and begins raining hellish hail and pouring water from the sky. 

“Y/n, there is no way I am letting you ride home in this weather! That simply will not happen under my roof. I will send an urgent telegram to your mother to let her know you are safe and warm, but you are staying over for the night and that is final.”

There was no arguing with Ophelia. So no more than five minutes later, Y/n was being escorted through the maze that was her student’s mansion, and to a guest room she would be occupying for the night. She was sprawled on the giant, fluffy bed when she felt her skin crawl at a particular thought- though he had not appeared during her lesson, Y/n knew that Harry was somewhere in the house- Ophelia said so herself, as they walked to her room. What if they bumped into one another? 

“Harry is somewhere around here- I am sure that you two will be the bestest of friends- you have so much in common!”

Y/n had to awkwardly laugh and smile at that, agreeing as politely as possible so as to not arouse any suspicion- however, Ophelia seemed to take this for genuine interest though and began doubling down. 

“Hey, why wait until dinner- I can call him now!? Maybe Harry can give you a tour of the house- the gardens, the gallery, the library! Give me two seconds and let me go fetch him-” 

Y/n had never had such a visceral reaction in her life when she shouted a clear and desperate “NO!”... It took her a few seconds to recollect her thoughts before she attempted to save face; she halfheartedly dismissed the idea with a feeble excuse that she didn’t want to impose, and that she and Harry would have plenty of time to chat at dinner. Despite the suspicious glint in Ophelia’s eye, she did not press any further and left her to rest and unpack as she went to have a bath and take a relaxing nap before supper. 

Thus bringing us back to Y/n- sprawled on her bed, deciding that she would not leave the room until supper. There was no way she would risk bumping into Harry while wandering around his house. What if he had another sultry guest for the evening?! What if he shooed her off as if she was nothing but a fly?! Heaven knows he had done all of that before- and all on the same night! She began rummaging through her bag to retrieve her book, content on sitting down and reading as she waited for dinner, but as she rummaged, it dawned on her… 

Her novels, her personal pens and paper? All of them were either at home or in Flynn’s side saddle pouch, hanging in the stables- she had been carrying her personal books and papers for the past few lessons but found the weight quite heavy, and all for very little payoff- she rarely got a moment to read when she was in the middle of a very interactive, collaborative lesson. The reality of her situation collapsed on her as she brought her hands up to her face and let a frustrated groan into them- she was going to be stuck here in this room with no entertainment for the next four hours - Ophelia was occupied, her books and pens were with Flynn, and there were no reading materials in the beautiful yet empty chest of drawers and side tables of the elegant guest room.

There was no way she could sit quietly like this… She began to get cabin feverish already. She needed to get out… 

Harry wouldn’t be strolling about his own house, right? It was 2:30 pm on a Friday- surely there must be some work he had to complete? Y/n resolved that there was no way she would be able to continue to live if she didn’t have something to stimulate her mind, and the thought of passing up an opportunity to explore the various forms of entertainment in Ophelia’s vast house seems daft, even verging on sinful… 

So, with a deep breath, Y/n stretched her arms above her head, took a deep breath, and lifted herself off of the plush linen-covered mattress. She ever so slowly opened the heavy, beautifully intricate mahogany door and peeked out of the minuscule crack she created. 

Left, right, left again, right again. 

The coast seemed to be clear- she opened the door wider so that she could stick her whole head out of it. She looked left, right, left again, right again. You could say that she was maybe overreacting by being so very cautious, but she would rather not run into Harry and be forced to return to her room before she had acquired some entertainment and had a good look around the place.

Once she was completely sure that the coast was clear, she stepped out, gently closed the door behind her, and, with her hands behind her back, began to stroll the hallways curiously. Soon, her fascination with the grandeur of the mansion quelled her alertness and she found herself enamoured by the architecture as she walked down the hallways. 

She wished she could dip her head into every room she saw, but she wasn’t that daft- that would be one surefire way to overstep her welcome, especially when she was essentially stuck until the storm cleared up. 

She continued slinking around in a manner similar to Fennec’s- she took a right, and found herself walking down a hallway she would guess was near the back of the house, as the large windows to her left illuminated her pathway and showcased a beautiful array of pruned trees along a cobblestone path, with steps that led down to a beautiful, large pond filled with greenery. There was a small path that also winded around the pond and ventured into a beautiful, lush green forest. The rain pattered so beautifully onto the glass, creating beautiful shadows on the otherwise dim hallway. The house truly was magnificent. 

Once reaching the end of the hallway, Y/n was greeted with two very tall and wide arched wooden doors. She hoped and prayed she wasn’t about to walk into a personal room, before pushing in to peek at the contents. 

A large expanse of beautiful oak shelves befell her- filled to the brim with books. Books upon books upon books! Nestled so tenderly, they were wrapped in beautiful leather casings. 

Bingo! The infamous library!

Though there was a main seating area in the middle of the room- with comfy juniper green couches that looked a dream to rest upon, there were also many bay windows and little reading nooks to curl up in. Tucked into the corner was a desk, a chair and a reading lamp. In fact, there were lamps all around the room, however, most of the light came from the warm roaring fire that blazed in the fireplace. Y/n could imagine sitting in front of the fire on a pillow, a soft throw around her and a mug of tea between her crossed legs as she read Dickens. 

Y/n wove through each shelf, looking at all the amazing titles there were. There was everything here! Shakespeare and Dickens were classics, to be expected in most regal libraries, but looking closer, Y/n found Bronte and Austen too! Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Hans Christen Anderson’s fairy tales. This place had every book Y/n had ever read or wished to read! 

But something lingered in the back of Y/n’s mind…

If Ophelia cannot read, whose library is this? Who has so tenderly placed every book in alphabetical order, as well as sorted them by genre? Who has spent their time tediously gluing library cards to the inside of the back cover of seemingly every book, and has jotted down when they have been borrowed? Why would anyone ever do that, considering that most of them are read by assumedly the same person, judging by the ever so similar font and pen used to log the date of when the book was picked up and when it was finished?

Before she could finish her thought, the door suddenly opened. Y/n immediately cringed at the situation she was in- she could be caught snooping by Ophelia, oh how mortifying! As the heavy footsteps walked closer and closer to where she was, she weaved through shelves, attempting to find a spot to hide. She tiptoed through before flattening herself against a shelf at the end of the room, far from where the footsteps were heard. The unknown person’s gait was too heavy to be Ophelia’s and- 

Damn! 

If it was not Ophelia, there was only one other person it could be… 

She took a deep, silent breath before creeping her way to the edge of the bookshelf. She went to take a peek and see where the British bastard was, however, when she took one more step and stuck her head out, she was met with his body no more than five inches from hers. 

“AHH!”

“Shit!”

The pair jumped and shrieked for a quick second, not expecting the other to be so damn close. Y/n looked up to see Harry looked down at her with surprise and confusion. Her gaze panned down to his hands, noticing him carrying a brown leather bound book- it was smaller and very worn in. It looked beaten and bruised, like it had been read thousands of times. She couldn't see a title at all, but it wouldn’t matter- the moment he followed her eyes, Harry shoved the book behind his back. Her gaze snapped back up quickly enough to watch vulnerability flash in his eyes, before they set in his usual hardened gaze, infected with scorn.

He barked. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

This wasn’t nonchalant Harry- this wasn't a Harry that was prepared for her attacks. This wasn’t the Harry that used his suave and unaffected demeanour to torment Y/n as he coolly fired shot after shot at her soul. No, this was a more frantic Harry- a more aggressive, threatened Harry. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Y/n explained, her brows furrowing and taking on a defensive tone, hands flying emphatically. 

Harry did not reply at all. The pair stared at each other sharply. It was as if they were having a battle telepathically, staring deep into one another’s unwavering, unblinking eyes, lips pressed shut into little frowns, brows knit, each daring the other to say something more. To poke the bear more. To continue the fight. They stared and they stared until Harry looked her up and down, shaking his head and scoffing, before walking further into the library. 

He seceded first! HA! She won! 

This victory wasn't savoured for long, however- she soon realised how foolish she would look just standing there in Harry’s dust. She didn’t look back to see which way he went and she didn't care- she kicked her body into motion and strode out the front door. Once she was out, however, she pathetically scurried her way back to her room, mortified. Once through the door, she slammed it shut and laid back against the cool wood. She took a couple deep breaths in the safety of the guest room. Now alone, she was able to regain her ability to think.

Harry was holding a book in his hands, before shoving it behind his back? Was he… bashful? What book would have made Harry feel embarrassed?

Further, if it wasn’t Ophelia’s library, there realistically is only one other person it could belong to…

Y/n shook the idea from her head immediately. It definitely couldn’t be Harry’s- not only was he too brutish to read for leisure, but also, the books there were too beautiful, too tenderly cared for- many filled with little annotations. No, Harry could not treat a human decently, let alone a book. He wouldn’t know how! The one in his hand, however. Her heart just couldn’t let that go… 

Maybe that was his? The small, beaten and bruised book. What kind of text would prompt Harry to read it over and over and over again. What words moved him so much that he felt embarrassed to show Y/n. Ofcourse, this was probably for the best- realistically, the pair should both provide as little information of their identities to each other as possible. Less ammunition that way. 

But Y/n, head against the downy pillow filled to the brim with the softest stuffing, lulled by the gentle nose of the lavender oil spritzed on top of the sheets, could not help but innocently wonder if Harry had a favourite book. She always wanted someone to share her love of reading- a simple friend that she could rant and rave to other than her sisters who, despite not possessing the same fire and passion as Y/n when it came to literature, attempted their hardest to understand her speeches and monologues of theory. 

It was not a question- Harry could never be that friend to Y/n…

But God, did Y/n wish that stopped her from imagining a version of him that could be.

[raspberryfingers]

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 10)

WARNINGS: None

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: Let me say that I am SO sorry guys, I know I haven't updated in forever. This year has been genuine hell for me and because of that I really haven't had the time or mental capacity to update. It will probably stay that way, but hopefully I'll work through my chapters slowly. Thank you all so much for being understanding.

—————

I was determined to change Tywin’s mind. It was something I commonly attempted, and very rarely did not succeed in. However, he was quite relentless upon the subject of marrying Sansa Stark to Tyrion, along with marrying Cersei to Loras. I personally had no intention of letting that stand. 

In my opinion, it was clear that his daughter had gotten to his head about my house plotting against theirs. It was understandable to want Sansa Stark for themselves, but I would under no circumstance allow Loras to marry Cersei Lannister. 

And so, just as I constantly did now, I found myself in the Hand’s office. Conversation and interaction with the Hand of the King had become a daily ritual, it seemed.

“Good morning, Tywin,” I said, being let into his office and finding him at his desk despite the fact that it was only 7:00 in the morning. He finished a thought and then set his quill down, looking up at me.

“You’re up rather early,” he noted, almost as if it didn’t apply to him either. I raised an eyebrow, folding my hands together.

“I have something to discuss with you that requires immediate attention, and I didn’t want to risk interfering with other meetings or plans, as this might be a long conversation,” I informed, making my way to his desk. As my shoes clacked against the stone floor, he sighed.

“I haven’t a clue what it is that you’d like to discuss,” he remarked sarcastically, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands in his lap.

“Do I need to tell Pycelle that you are having problems with your memory? I’m sure he’d be able to sympathize with you,” I teased him, grinning as I did. Tywin only gave me a look and shook his head. 

“Very well, if it pleases you to continue the conversation that even your grandmother could not win, then we shall,” he said, standing from his chair and making his way around the desk. He pulled my chair out for me, and I thanked him with a nod, putting my hand under my skirts as I sat. 

“I’m not my grandmother—I know you far better. I’m also not here to make excuses about why we don’t want Loras to marry Cersei, I’m here to explain why it makes no sense. Trust me on this, Tywin, I did plenty of thinking after my grandmother told me what you’d proposed,” I began, enjoying the amusement in his eyes as he sat across from me and sipped the water in his cup. This was going to be quite the conversation. 

“Go on then, tell me why it ‘makes no sense’, as you say.”

I straightened in my chair, pressing my lips together for a moment and then beginning. “I know your daughter believes that we—the Tyrells—are plotting against you, and perhaps I can understand where she’s coming from. After all, it’s no secret that I previously had quite a lot of disdain for you. If it had been up to me alone, I probably would have plotted against you.”

Tywin raised his eyebrows, but I did not smile. This was a serious subject, there was no reason to. 

“However, that is an utterly ridiculous notion due to the fact that I have always prioritized my siblings. If Cersei does not trust me, then so be it, but our alliance is going to be solidified by a marriage. And yes, we both know Margaery and Joffrey’s marriage is political, though that doesn’t change the fact that you need us for our gold and crops, just as we need you to validate Margaery’s claim as queen. We both benefit, Tywin. I should hope you studied enough science as a boy to know what the term mutualism means,” I said accusingly, to which he waved a hand as a silent ‘oh hush’ and scoffed. 

“Yes, Margaery needs Joffrey to ‘officially’ have that title, but let’s not pretend that his title makes him the most powerful. By giving your sister access to him, we—or rather I—have allowed her to take quite a lot of power. Now, I would not go so far as to say that I agree with Cersei about the plotting, because most of her evidence is that Margaery has succeeded in manipulating Joffrey, just as you expected she would. That does not bother me at all, Joffrey needs it. What does bother me is that despite already having plenty of access to power, your family wants to thank me for it by seeking out even more. By stealing it from us,” Tywin said, looking away with aggravation. I sighed, shaking my head and gripping the arms of my chair as I replied.

“It is less about lowering House Lannister than it is strengthening House Tyrell. We have an eldest son that needs marrying and Sansa is the first Stark daughter, to me it seems natural. And, it is not as if your family had some sort of claim to her as anything besides a prisoner of war.”

Tywin huffed and adjusted his seat, beginning to open his mouth until I put my hand out to silence him. He glared, but let me speak anyway.

“Let me put it this way, then. I believe that our continued alliance means that Loras marrying Sansa would increase the power of both of our houses. If we have access to the north, then so do you by association,” I reasoned, raising my eyebrows at him to emphasize my words.

“Yes, in theory we would, but currently our alliance is only officially bound by a manipulative marriage. How am I to trust the strength of our alliance when that is its foundation?” Tywin replied, making me smile softly. Gods, he truly was naive sometimes. 

“Their marriage is not its foundation, Tywin, we are. But nonetheless, I already prepared for you having such an opinion. That is why… well, why I am prepared to go to great lengths to ensure that you feel our alliance is strong enough to call off Loras’ marriage to Cersei, especially because Joffrey is a Baratheon in name,” I said, taking a deep breath. The Great Lion only stared at me, slightly turning his head with curiosity. 

“To- to strengthen the alliance between our houses, I will- I will marry Tyrion. I have nothing to gain from marrying your son, only something to lose, and yet I will do it anyway if it convinces you that it is no real loss to call off the marriage between Cersei and Loras,” I announced shakily, pulling my hands into my lap so he would not see them tremble. 

I watched Tywin’s face for a reaction, and was surprised to see his eyebrows raise and his mouth fall open. I’d truly managed to shock Tywin Lannister. 

“You would marry Tyrion to prove our alliance strong?” He clarified, still gaping at me. I would have laughed, but the thought of marrying—not Tyrion specifically, but in general—terrified me. I swallowed and nodded, trying to stop the quivering in my hands. 

“Not even Jaime? You are the eldest daughter, (Y/N),” he questioned, utterly bewildered. I only gave him a condescending look.

“Whether you want to accept it or simply live in delusion, Jaime is a part of the Kingsguard. Not to mention, he’s also not here,” I reminded him, to which he scoffed. 

“You would truly marry Tyrion? You’re being serious?”

“Yes, I would marry him. That is how much I genuinely believe in our two houses working together rather than against each other. Does that satisfy you?” I said, trying not to let my tone waiver. I was pinching my wrist in my lap, dreading his verdict.

All that Tywin had ever wanted was to be rid of Tyrion, and previous marriage proposals with other houses had not gone so well for him. As he stared at me and contemplated, all I could expect was to hear him say yes. As he had just pointed out, I was the eldest Tyrell daughter. Why shouldn’t he want to marry me to Tyrion?

There was silence for several minutes, and I could see on his face that he was thinking. I hadn’t a clue what he was thinking about, for this seemed to be a very simple thing to me. If anything, I was surprised he hadn’t instantly accepted.

“No, it does not satisfy me. I would never let Tyrion marry you, he is not worthy of a woman such as yourself,” Tywin said finally, hand clenching onto the arm of his chair. Relief went through me, though I was slightly upset by the fact that Tywin was being so rude. “And even if Jaime was here, I wouldn’t marry him to you either. No man in all seven kingdoms is worthy of you.”

We both stared at each other in silence, and there was an odd tension in the air. My lips parted, and he inhaled slowly. We only snapped out of it when he forced himself to look away, reaching for his cup and taking a sip. 

“Either way, you’ve proven your point. Our alliance is strong enough that we don’t need a further marriage bond. And, since it is so strong, we would both benefit from Sansa Stark’s claim. However, by your logic, if Sansa Stark were to marry Tyrion, then your family would receive the same benefits as before. There is no reason for me to cancel that betrothal,” Tywin reasoned then, making me scoff and shake my head.

“No. I’m grateful that you at least understand the lack of need to marry your daughter to Loras, but I still feel that he ought to be with Sansa instead,” I replied, shifting in my chair because I’d been sitting here for so long now. Tywin looked at me and then chuckled softly. 

“You’re asking quite a lot of me, (Y/N). You should know better.”

“It is you who should know better. Sansa Stark is a sweet girl with few demands, I suppose I have your family to thank for that. You’ve treated her so poorly that all she desires is to be living in Highgarden; she has no expectations of Loras. And, because it is no secret that my brother is fond of men, when she realizes that it may cause disappointment, but it will not be ruinous for their marriage,” I explained to him, only pausing for a moment before continuing with my point.

“Plus, Margaery’s marriage to Joffrey will ensure our alliance for long enough that we will both get Sansa Stark’s claim once her children are of age.” I leaned back in my chair, feeling quite satisfied with how well this was going for me. I could see Tywin fighting for an excuse. 

“You would be putting a Tyrell child in charge of Winterfell. You may share that claim with us, but the same cannot be guaranteed for the next generation or two. If I were to marry her to Tyrion, it is an absolute guarantee that a Lannister male will have Winterfell. 

“An easy problem to fix, Tywin. Whatever children Loras and Sansa have will marry at least one of Tyrion’s children. That way the Tyrell-Lannister alliance will continue and give those children continued power over the North,” I bargained with him, feeling quite content with such a solution. 

“But the rulers of the North would be Tyrell in name.”

“An unfortunate pill you must swallow. I have already explained why it makes more sense for Sansa to marry Loras than your son. Tyrion is better used securing an alliance with another house. There are plenty of eligible daughters, and marrying him to a woman from another, lower house, has no effect. He’s a son of Tywin Lannister, the most powerful man in Westeros. Plus, you’re not the only one who begrudges him for being a dwarf, people wouldn’t think twice if he married a woman a bit lower in status than he. Perhaps a Karstark or a Frey to ensure that they do not join Robb Stark.”

The Great Lion blinked at me slowly, clearly not appreciating the way I was over explaining it to him. Though, he had to admit that it was sound reasoning. 

“And what of your brother? None of you shy away from the fact that he is not entirely fond of female company. How can you ensure children from his marriage to the Stark girl?” He asked, folding his hands in his lap with a sort of relaxation. Clearly he’d been waiting to bring this up, and I rolled my eyes.

“Loras is aware of what is expected of him, and is willing to put his desires aside. It was a topic discussed at length when we first learned of his inclinations, and he was quite understanding. There can also be a bedding ceremony, if you should truly require that much assurance,” I said with a sigh, knowing that it was a likely thing to happen. It was rather odd, I felt, that even a man like Tywin Lannister had not been able to deny his own bedding ceremony. Such was the reign of Aerys, though that was long over. There was little shame in admitting that the Hand of the King was most powerful now. 

“A bedding ceremony is naturally expected. It will perhaps convince other nobles to ignore the rumors about him,” he replied, looking away as he did. The subject seemed to make him uncomfortable.

“They’re not rumors, Tywin. Let them think whatever they’d like, it doesn’t affect us. I will say, though, that I was quite disgusted by what you think of Loras,” I huffed out, shaking my head at him. His eyes settled on me again, and his eyebrows suddenly furrowed. 

“It is unnatural.”

“In my eyes, it’s a preference. Just as some men like younger women and others like older women. We can’t control any of that. Plus, it does not affect his ability to fight, fence, or function as a regular man,” I reasoned, not really understanding why Tywin or anybody else should make such a big deal of it. 

“And yet he’s engaging in intercourse that would not produce children. That is what I consider unnatural,” he shot back, brows raising at me as he said it. I gave him a look of utter disappointment, almost as if asking if he was serious. 

“Oh Tywin, please. Not all intercourse is for that purpose, even between a man and a woman. You have three children, and by all accounts quite loved your wife. I’m certain you’re familiar with acts of pleasure that don’t produce children,” I laughed, shaking my head at how ridiculous the conversation was. 

“My opinion upon the subject is final. You’re more than welcome to feel anger about it.”

“What I feel is more than anger, Tywin, it is disgust—both at you and at myself. How can I, in good conscience, be friends with a man who thinks so poorly of my dear brother? What if I had the same inclinations, Tywin? What would you think of me then?” I said accusingly, glaring at him as I posed the question. Did he truly expect me to look past such an opinion? I admittedly had felt some attraction towards women in the past, though the interest was not exclusive as my brother’s was. The Hand of the King paused as he contemplated.

“I don’t mean to cause offense. It is simply what I believe, just as many others do. If you were to feel the same attraction that your brother does, I would not hold it against you, just as I don’t with your brother, for it is not his only quality,” Tywin replied with a sigh, his shoulders finally relaxing. I shook my head at him, my stomach beginning to sink. 

“And since when have you been like anyone else? I suppose I simply just don’t understand why you have such an opinion. I have already disproved what you believe makes it fundamentally unnatural. If your belief stems from religion then I’d like to remind you that the gods… well, you know very well how the gods can be,” I said, pausing myself at the end when I saw the look in his eyes. He knew better than anyone how cruel they were. 

“Yes, yes I do…”

I paused, swallowing and looking around before speaking. 

“I just- I don’t understand why you chose to dislike a group of people that has never personally offended you,” I said, realization suddenly coming to me when I saw the look on his face. “Unless…”

“I don’t wish to discuss this topic anymore, (Y/N). Our previous conversation was far more relevant.”

“My grandmother said you were quite aggravated by her questioning of your own desires… that you were very insistent upon not being like my brother. I cannot help but wonder, Tywin, if perhaps this hatred comes from your own self loathing. If perhaps you have felt such attraction in the past and did not like feeling that way,” I said, slowly leaning forward in my chair as the puzzle pieces came together. His firm denial of it suddenly made quite a lot of sense. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you know very well that my love for my wife was genuine and strong. To insinuate such a thing-“

“Tywin, you do realize that such feelings are not exclusive, don’t you? I am well aware of how much you loved Joanna, but it does not mean that you cannot also have attraction to men. Perhaps you prefer women, but that doesn’t exclude your same sex entirely. I am simply curious… as you did mention frequently leaving the castle with the late King Aerys… and leaving alone,” I pointed out, watching him grow increasingly uncomfortable. I’d figured it out, it seemed. His eyes were extremely avoidant, and he could not stop shifting in his seat and biting his cheeks. He was embarrassed.

“I do not wish to discuss this.” 

I stared at him, and suddenly softened. He was ashamed, of course. And how could I blame him? To be the most powerful man in Westeros, the Hand of the King, and the Lord of Casterly Rock. His job had been to build his house up, to rid the sound of shameful laughter from his halls. So what then if people should discover that the son of the Laughing Lion had ‘unnatural’ inclinations?

I reached across the table, offering him my hand. He did not look at me and he did not take it. 

“Listen to me, Tywin. You may not be ready to come to terms with it, and you may not be anywhere near comfortable with discussing such a subject, but know that I am here if you ever want to. Clearly, I don’t think anything of it, and I personally have felt attraction towards women just as well as men. I hope that eventually you will come to see it as I have, for I do not want you to hate yourself for it,” I said softly, looking at him the whole time even despite the fact that he would not look at me.

There was silence after I finished speaking, and only after a minute did he finally adjust his eyes. Tywin looked at my open palm, and with a bit of hesitation he took it. He did not say anything, but I saw his lip tremble as I squeezed his hand. 

“I- I consent to the marriage between your brother and Sansa Stark, though begrudgingly. I will discuss it with my children. Tyrion needs to marry regardless, I can’t imagine he’ll like that, but he seemed to pity the Stark girl so at least he can be comforted by that. There’s no doubt in my mind Cersei will continue to try and convince me you’re all plotting, but I suspect all I’ll have to do is remind her that she’s getting out of a marriage thanks to you. Well, getting out of one for now,” he said, letting go of my grip and taking a deep breath. 

I nodded, standing up and slowly going over to him. His eyes fixed themself on me as I made my way around the desk. When I reached him, I began to bend down. As a response, he stiffened and froze, entirely uncertain of what I intended to do. 

I found myself pressing my lips to his forehead, and my hand came to his hair. His breath caught in his throat, and when I pulled away there was a slightly confused look on his face. 

“Thank you, Tywin. I know it’s all politics and such, but I am grateful that you listened to me and understood my point of view. This way, we both succeed and don’t have to sacrifice as much happiness within our families,” I said, reaching for his hand again and giving it another small squeeze. 

He nodded, hesitating for a moment before pressing it to his lips. My cheeks heated, though I had not a clue why. It was a common gesture, there was certainly nothing special about it. 

But I could not deny the feeling of goosebumps forming along my arm, and the pleasant feeling of his mouth against my skin. A friend had never brought me such comfort before.

When he let it go, I gave him a gentle smile and turned to leave, but was surprised to hear him call out for me. 

“(Y/N), wait.”

I faced him again and raised an eyebrow. He’d sat up straighter, and he sighed out as he spoke. 

“Since you’re here, there’s something else I’d like to talk about. Especially in light of all that we have just discussed,” he said, his lips thinning as he finished. I could tell this would not be a fun conversation either, somehow. 

“Oh?”

“I would like your advice. Another perspective, perhaps. I know what I would like to do, but you are always insistent on doing the opposite of that. And, since it does involve the war, it’s something you ought to hear about,” he explained, much to my curiosity. Had some opportunity presented itself? 

I sat down again, and Tywin got up to pour both of us wine. I thanked him when he brought it back over to me. Gods, what a morning.

“So, tell me, what do you require my humble advice about?” I asked, grinning at him rather widely. He shook his head with feigned disappointment. 

“Well, Robb Stark beheaded Rickard Karstark just as we had all expected. Since those forces have marched home, he is now trying to convince Edmure Tully to marry a daughter of Walder Frey. He is waving the olive branch, just as you suggested he would.”

I nodded, unsurprised by everything he’d just said. I still had not figured out where he was going with this. 

“And if I remember correctly, you said Walder Frey would not make an alliance with him. It seems that’s what he is doing, is he not? Unless there’s something I’m unaware of,” I recounted, an uneasy feeling creeping into my stomach while I did.

“That is what I intend to ask your advice on. Walder Frey was obviously furious that Robb Stark broke his promise. Well, now he seeks revenge for it. He sent a letter asking for the support of House Lannister,” he explained, beginning to avoid my eyes. I started to feel even worse, as I somehow suspected that whatever plan he was about to mention did not involve anything pleasant for Robb Stark. 

“Our support to do what, Tywin?” I questioned, holding the arms of my chair now. I hadn’t even been conscious of my usage of ‘our’.

“The plan, essentially, would be to have Robb Stark, his wife, and his mother murdered at that wedding. It would provide allies in House Bolton and House Frey.”

The room was utterly silent besides the sound of our breathing, and I began to feel somewhat queasy. I desired very deeply to end the war… but this… well, this was quite different from any battle. It would ensure victory, but at what cost?

“Roose Bolton would turn?” I asked, trying to process that information first.

“He already has. It was his bastard who burned down Winterfell, not the Ironborn as Robb Stark was led to believe,” Tywin informed me, to which I nodded. It was not entirely surprising; Roose Bolton seemed the type of man to play such a game. 

With that out of the way, I further pondered the proposal Tywin had just made. Killing an entire family at a wedding. Winning the war. There were so many pros and so many cons. 

“You disapprove of the idea, I take it,” Tywin said finally, seeing that the words had gotten stuck in my throat. I wet my lips with my tongue and then took a deep breath.

“Just- just give me a moment to think. I need to think,” I replied, fidgeting with the sleeve of my dress.

It was an incredibly tough scenario to contemplate. Breaking guest right that way would forever make the north wary of us, and the seven kingdoms were already far too disunited. Not to mention, I would be allowing the murder and possible rape of women by agreeing with him. Tywin could order his own men to not do such a thing, but if the Freys would be committing the act, then…

I did not want to become the person I had lectured Tywin for being, but what else could we do? We could certainly just wait for Robb Stark’s forces to grow tired and beaten down, yet further peace was needed. The distrust would boil over eventually.

Suddenly, an idea began to form in my head, and I nodded to myself as I thought it all out. Perhaps it would work, just maybe. 

“Tywin, consider why the Young Wolf is waging war against us. Obviously he marched for Ned Stark at first, but now that his father’s dead the reasoning becomes more murky. Perhaps revenge is part of it, but more than anything he wants his sister back and he wants to go home. With Loras and Sansa to wed and Robb Stark’s forces so small, what if… well, what if we sent them to him? I know it sounds utterly insane, but why would he continue to wage war if his sister is home? If Sansa is happy in her marriage to my brother then it would be even more convincing,” I said, slowly stringing together my thought process and hoping to find a solution. 

“With your family linked so closely to mine, who’s to say he wouldn’t just murder Loras?” Tywin asked, turning his head with a sort of caution.

“Because he would most assuredly be crushed then, and I’d personally see to such a thing. But, either way, Robb Stark is an honorable man; if we offer an olive branch, perhaps he’ll take it. And if not him, I cannot imagine his mother wanting to further risk their lives when Sansa is home safe,” I reasoned, taking a sip of wine and letting it soothe the headache that had begun to form. 

“You would give him another opportunity to swear fealty? We already tried that, (Y/N), and he responded by calling up his bannermen,” Tywin demurred, raising a wary eyebrow at me. I sighed, shaking my head as I elaborated. 

“But the circumstances are vastly different now. The only reason he took up arms was because Ned Stark was imprisoned, and at his age I’m sure he and plenty of others were itching for war. Now he’s been betrayed by Theon Greyjoy and lost an enormous amount of his forces. There is zero possibility of him winning against the largest force in Westeros, no matter how hard he tries. Whether we side with Walder Frey or merely meet him on the battlefield, his entire family will be slaughtered regardless. We ought to give him this out,” I said, knowing deep down that it was the right thing to do. After all, what boy wouldn’t fight for the lives of his father and sisters? He’d not made it in time for Ned, now he just wanted to make it in time for Sansa. 

“You’d like to do this out of honor? Is that it?” He questioned, trying to figure out my intentions. I shook my head again. It was hard to express exactly what I meant in this scenario. 

“Honor is something to be cautious about. If I can avoid the murder of an entire family, I will. To me that’s more about morality than honor. The way I see it, we could end this war by doing that, but if we do, the North will never trust us again. Ending the war isn’t enough, we need to work on reuniting the seven kingdoms. I believe that if we make peace with Robb Stark, and perhaps help him rebuild Winterfell, it would be a step towards doing that,” I explained, watching his face for any kind of reaction. 

Tywin contemplated, and I could tell that he wanted to see it the way that I did, but he was still unsure. I couldn’t blame him, for quite a lot of things could go wrong in this scenario. It was entirely possible that Robb Stark was so furious about his father’s death that he would never even consider making peace with us, and that thought did make me uneasy. What if sending Loras and Sansa cost the Lannisters a bargaining piece and me a family member?

“Perhaps he will agree, but I’m hesitant. To him, the Tyrells are enemies; you’re siding with a family that killed his father. I cannot imagine he’s particularly eager to make peace with us,” Tywin said, drinking some of his own wine. As he raised his cup, I noticed that the morning sun was shining on his ring. It looked beautiful. 

“If Sansa is married to Loras, she could help convince Robb Stark to agree. She’s close with my entire family, and she trusts us. I suppose my grandmother and sister are the first people who’ve shown her an ounce of kindness in quite some time. It would be useful. Her testimony might be enough to make Robb Stark trust our intentions,” I pointed out, now even more glad that Tywin had agreed to let them marry. 

“He may trust the intentions of House Tyrell, but he certainly will not trust mine. He’s not going to want to bend the knee to Joffrey even if you give him that choice.”

“Right now, I don’t think he gets to refuse. As I said, if his sister is home and his numbers are small, he ought to be wise and return home. When we send Loras and Sansa, perhaps… perhaps allow me to go with them. Loras is kind, and he’s not stupid, but I don’t feel that he’s anywhere near as convincing as I am, and there’s no room for mistakes. I can convince Robb Stark, especially with Sansa’s help. We need unity,” I said, exhaling strongly and reaching for my cup. Gods, this entire war was miserable. At the very least, this wine was quite good. 

Tywin raised both eyebrows at me, huffing out and standing up. This suggestion had made him quite upset, it seemed. 

“If I think there’s a possibility that Robb Stark would harm, kill, or take Loras captive, why in the gods' names would I let you go? I will not risk your life, (Y/N), let alone your safety. Let me be very clear about that,” he said vehemently, gazing down at me with complete seriousness. I rose from my chair as well, taking a deep breath. 

I went around the desk, reaching out to him. He took my hands in his when I offered them, looking down at the sight. I kept my eyes on his face, however. 

“I will be safe, Tywin, I promise. I wouldn’t do it, or even have suggested it, if I thought it might be dangerous for me,” I told him, squeezing both of his palms. He lifted his head, holding my gaze with the utmost concern and care. He shook his head.

“Well I think it’s dangerous. You’re not going, (Y/N). I won’t- I won’t lose you. I can’t,” he whispered, looking away. I let go of his hand and reached for his face instead, turning it back toward me. 

“I’ll take Ser Elias with me, and Loras will have guards for him and Sansa. All will be well, Tywin. You won’t lose me, hm? I’ll help to restore a fragile peace to the seven kingdoms, minus Stannis, and then I will return home to you.” I brushed my thumb against Tywin’s cheek, and he leaned into my palm. His stubble scratched against me, and for some reason it made me want to cry. 

“I hate feeling like I cannot protect you,” he mumbled, closing his eyes so he would not have to look at me. 

“I can protect myself, Tywin. You know that. If not with my sword then certainly with my tongue.”

Both of the Great Lion’s hands suddenly came to my face, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes as he cupped my cheeks. 

“I will tell Walder Frey to call off the wedding. I’ll inform him I have other plans in place,” he said, sighing out. I gave him a gentle smile, knowing that he did not want to feel anxious for my well being. 

“Thank you, Tywin. You won’t regret it, I promise you that.”

He looked at me thoughtfully and nodded, releasing one of his hands from my face and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as he spoke. “I know I told you that I wished for you to fight alongside me should we ever face conflict again, but I don’t know how I’d do it. I’d fear for your safety the whole time.”

“Just as I would fear for yours, Tywin,” I whispered in reply, placing my own hand on top of his and keeping it against my cheek. 

We stared at each other, and—in an odd passion—I felt just as I had at the inn: like I wanted to kiss him. 

My cheeks flushed, and my breath quickened. Letting go of his hand, I looked away. I would never kiss Tywin, we were merely friends. It was simply a tender moment and his face was close to mine. That was all there was to it. 

—————

“Ah, family. I’ve been looking for all of you. I suppose I should’ve checked here first.”

Margaery, Loras, and my grandmother were all in the garden attempting to distract themselves. My grandmother and sister were snacking on whatever the servants had brought, but Loras could not seem to touch it. 

He’d been trying quite hard to come to terms with marrying Cersei; it had been difficult for all of us. 

“(Y/N), come sit with us. Have you had breakfast yet? Ser Elias said you were up early today,” Margaery said, looking up from her plate and motioning to the chair beside my grandmother. 

“No, not yet. I had something to attend to this morning, it’s why I’ve been looking for all of you. I have news,” I explained, sitting down at the table and instantly reaching over for some fruit, cheese, and bread. It was cold now, but I felt so victorious that it was no real loss. 

“Oh? Go on then, spit it out,” my grandmother said, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of wine. I might’ve told her it was early, but I supposed at her age it made little difference. Plus, I had been drinking too.

“I spoke with Tyw- Lord Tywin this morning. We had a rather lengthy conversation, and though he was quite stubborn about it, I managed to convince him against Loras’ betrothal to Cersei,” I informed them, watching Loras instantly look up with disbelief.

“Truly? You’re not joking?” He questioned, wondering if it was perhaps too good to be true. 

“Yes, truly.”

He was smiling brighter than the sun now, and so was Margaery as she leaned toward Loras and placed a hand on his shoulder. My grandmother, however, was giving me a rather suspicious look.

“And how is it that you managed to convince him?” she inquired, folding her hands together in a somewhat menacing way. I raised an eyebrow. Why was she so wary?

“Well, it’s quite simple, really. A large focus of the conversation was that our alliance is quite stable, and I helped him come to the conclusion that—because of that stability—there’s no reason to marry Loras and Cersei. He’s better off marrying her to someone else,” I answered, shrugging because I found it to be rather straightforward. 

“I see,” my grandmother said curtly, reaching for her cup as a natural way to end her sentence. I merely ignored it, knowing that she was prone to all sorts of moods and opinions. If she wanted me to know what she was thinking, I’d find out.

“But, it’s not only that... I have also convinced the Lord Hand to let your betrothal to Sansa Stark continue,” I revealed with a smile, watching my brother’s face light up once again.

“How on earth did he agree to that?” Loras asked, laughing a bit as he did. He appeared to be utterly giddy over knowing that things were all going to plan again. Margaery had turned to my grandmother, giving her an odd look.

“Well, he settled after I told him that, of whatever children you and Sansa have, one of them will marry a child of Tyrion Lannister. It’s all quite far in the future, but that is the current arrangement,” I said, to which he nodded with understanding. Hypotheticals were easy to accept, it seemed. I prayed that the deal would work out properly, because I did want to keep my word to Tywin. 

“I see. Well, I thank you nonetheless, (Y/N). Gods’ know I’d much rather marry Sansa than Cersei,” Loras muttered, making my grandmother huff out a laugh. None of us preferred Cersei to Sansa Stark in any capacity. 

“Of course. If you have to marry a woman, I’d rather it be a sweet girl like Sansa. Plus, she could certainly use a break from King’s Landing. And, speaking of which, I’m afraid there’s one other reason that Lord Tywin feels alright with this match…” I trailed off, watching all of my family members raise their eyebrows in some capacity. 

“It seems… it seems that an opportunity to make peace with Robb Stark may have appeared, and your wedding to Sansa may be exactly what we need in order to do so. Once- Once the wedding is over, the idea would be for the two of you, along with me, to confront the Young Wolf. With some diplomatic convincing, I hope to end the war and help the Starks retake Winterfell,” I explained to them, anxiously awaiting their responses. 

There was silence for a moment, and Margaery was still staring at our grandmother. Loras seemed to be processing the idea in his own head, but it was not his permission that I needed, especially because I knew he really wouldn’t mind it. 

“And you’re certain it would be safe to confront Robb Stark that way? Just the three of you?” my grandmother questioned, finally looking over at me. I instantly nodded at her.

“It wouldn’t just be the three of us, Ser Elias and a few trusted guards would come as well, but the idea is to seem open. To bring a large group to his camp would cause conflict, whereas a small group would only cause questioning. I believe that Sansa has enough affection for Loras—and for the rest of our family—to help our cause. On top of Robb’s honor, Sansa’s wishes would likely protect us from any harm.” I popped a grape into my mouth, crushing it against the roof of my mouth with my tongue. I was partly hoping that if I relied on those two things enough, it would become reality.

In all honesty, I had no clue if I would be safe. I had promised Tywin—and was now telling my grandmother—that I would, but men were unpredictable. Some less than others, yes, but this was a risk. I could see on Loras’ face that he knew it too. 

“And what if they don’t kill you but instead take you captive? They’d be taking two bargaining pieces and then we would have none,” my grandmother pointed out, scoffing at me and shaking her head.

“Do you think I don’t know that already? Grandmother, I’m well aware of the fact that this certainly could go wrong in quite a lot of ways, but it is a risk that I feel comfortable taking. Robb Stark, at this point, is really only fighting this war for his sisters. Why keep fighting when he has them back? My point is, I don’t think he’s got any reason to want to take Loras and I captive. But, if you’re still anxious about it, I’m willing to take Sansa by myself.”

Loras shot up from his chair, shaking his head at me.

“I’m not letting you go alone, (Y/N). Either I go with you or the whole thing’s called off,” he said, making my grandmother sigh out. She promptly spoke up about her opinion on the subject.

“Loras, you are the heir to Highgarden, I’m not going to have you go with your sister and-”

“So just because I’m the heir it means that somehow my safety is more important than (Y/N)’s? No, that’s ridiculous, Grandmother. I’m going with her.”

“I’m not saying that your safety is more important, I’m saying that you’re more at risk because the Stark’s will see your position as something valuable. I’d rather neither of you go at all, but if you must then I’d like to minimize the risk of it,” my grandmother explained, making Loras scoff and look away from her. I rose from my seat, going over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s not entirely wrong, Loras. It might… it might make more sense for me to go alone with Sansa,” I whispered, seeing on his face that he was still upset about it. 

“No. How are the Starks supposed to trust us, or even trust my marriage to Sansa, if I’m not there with you? I have to be there, (Y/N),” Loras reasoned, turning to my grandmother with a sort of pleading look. It was really up to her more than anyone else.

There was silence for a moment as she contemplated it, but eventually she sighed and relented with a nod of her head. Loras let out the breath he’d been holding and then turned his gaze back to me.

“Thank you, (Y/N). Thank you for convincing Lord Tywin to alter the plans, it means quite a lot to me. I’m certain it’ll mean plenty to Sansa as well. I’ll go tell her right now,” my brother said, pulling me into his arms and giving me a genuine hug. I smiled, wrapping my arms around him and squeezing gently. 

“Of course. Tell Sansa about the wedding plans, and mention the idea of making peace with Robb. Tell her that, ideally, the two of you would go with Robb to rebuild Winterfell, and then eventually return to Highgarden,” I told him, pulling away and tucking a few curls behind his ear. He nodded, kissing my cheek before turning and leaving the garden.

I watched him go, and when I eventually turned around, I found both Margaery and my grandmother staring directly at me. There was a somewhat quizzical look on their faces, and it made me anxious. Why in the seven hells were they thinking about?

“What?” I questioned warily, sitting back down in my chair. 

“Grandmother and I are just… well, just a bit uncertain of how exactly you managed to change Lord Tywin’s mind so easily,” Margaery noted, blinking several times as she did. Both her and my grandmother almost looked… well, suspicious. 

“Well, as I said, Lord Tywin and I had quite the conversation-”

“Yes, I heard. However, he and I had quite the conversation as well, and so I am attempting to figure out how—even after backing me into a corner—he listened to you,” my grandmother said accusingly. I watched Margaery attempt to cover her smile with a hand, much to my confusion. 

“He respects me, grandmother. I believe I’ve earned it after spending so much time around him. Plus, I gave my solutions quite a lot of thought. Every question he asked I had a good answer for,” I reasoned, almost a little annoyed by the fact that they were in disbelief. Did they think I lacked the ability to be convincing? 

The two women before me turned to look at each other, and both of them started to smile. I was utterly bewildered as to what was happening. 

“I hope you will forgive me saying this, my dear, but I’m beginning to think Lord Tywin feels a lot more than just respect for you,” my grandmother continued, to which Margaery began to laugh. I sighed, finally understanding what they were insinuating and giggling about.

“Oh please, Grandmother. Lord Tywin and I are merely friends, that is all. And even that may be a stretch, he still makes me angry quite frequently. Your insinuations are not as realistic as you believe them to be,” I said, though partially lying. I reached for the cup Loras had left behind and took a sip of his wine. I had not even realized it was his cup for a moment, and I had been expecting water, but somehow found that the wine was reassuring all the same. Gods, I was having quite the morning.

“Yes, and that is why the two of you are always going out and disappearing overnight. Don’t think I’m unaware, (Y/N). Not only that, but for nearly a week now you’ve visited the Tower of the Hand at least once a day,” my grandmother pointed out, making me shake my head vehemently. Had she gone utterly insane?

“Please, think logically. I’ve hated Lord Tywin for 11 years now, what makes you think that all of a sudden there are romantic feelings between the two of us? If not enemies, the most that we’ll ever be is friends, I promise you that,” I said firmly, trying to get that idea through her head.

“I think sometimes it is easier to hate someone than to admit that you’re attracted to them. Though, I would like to note that I said nothing of romance, I am merely suggesting that the two of you are sleeping together. You are the one bringing romance into it,” she teased, giving me that grin which insinuated she’d won in this discussion. Heat came to my cheeks, and I sputtered out with shock.

“G-Grandmother! I- I can assure you that Lord Tywin and I are most certainly not doing anything even remotely close to that. I have no attraction to him, none whatsoever!”

“If you’re bedding Lord Tywin, (Y/N), there’s no need to shy away from it. You know neither your sister nor I would care. Well, we might judge your taste a little bit, but that’s all,” she said, laughing. Margaery joined her, and my entire face turned unbelievably hot. To me the thought was utterly unfathomable; I couldn’t understand why they were laughing about it.

“I assure you, I am not bedding Ty- Lord Tywin, and I don’t intend to. Ever,” I told them, trying to defend myself. They only laughed more.

“Of course, sister. That’s why your dresses become more revealing each day. I find myself wondering if you’re stealing from my closet. Not to mention, you seem to have a new affinity for patterns with red roses.” Margaery joined in on the assault, and I sighed out of utter exhaustion. This family would be the death of me.

“That’s complete nonsense. I’ll say it now, and I’m not going to repeat myself: the relationship I have with Lord Tywin is nothing but an alliance and friendship. He is older than Father, and only 6 years younger than you, Grandmother. To insinuate that I am bedding him is insane,” I reasoned, raising an eyebrow at the Queen of Thorns. She smiled and reached for my hand.

“I am aware, my dear, we discussed it yesterday. It’s nothing unusual, plenty of men marry and sleep with women much younger than themselves,” she said, leaning forward as she usually would while making a point. 

“Well not Lord Tywin.”

“(Y/N), from what I’ve heard, the Lord Hand smiles quite easily around you. Tywin Lannister never smiles. The last person he was known to smile around was his late wife,” Margaery mentioned, giggling as she did.  

“This was not the reaction I had hoped for when I revealed that I’d convinced Lord Tywin to reconsider Loras’ marriage,” I grumbled, rubbing my forehead with slight annoyance. I refused to even think about what they were saying, for it was not possible in any capacity.

“(Y/N), I’m not asking you to admit it, perhaps just consider it for yourself. You may not be bedding Lord Tywin, or engaged in any sort of romantic relationship with him, but you do have such feelings for him, don’t you?” my grandmother asked, smiling wickedly. 

I scoffed at her then, confident that she was wrong. Later that night, however, I’d have to consider her words. I’d noticed small things, like butterflies in my stomach when Tywin and I touched, or heat in my face when he complimented me. I smiled at the set of armor sitting in my room every day, and at the Valyrian steel blades in my chest. And I had to admit, I was beginning to grow fond of the color red, for it reminded me of him. 

But to me, that was all normal. Why shouldn’t a friend make me happy and make me feel cared for? Tywin and I simply got along well; we fit together. Yes, I had wanted to kiss him before, but that had been during very tender moments. It was not as if I was sitting around daydreaming about kissing him.

So surely that was not love, right? It couldn’t be. I supposed I’d never exactly considered myself to be in love with anyone before, so I had nothing to compare it to, but wouldn’t it be the sort of thing that was abundantly clear to me? 

Well, it mattered very little. I could not feel love for Tywin Lannister, let alone romantic affection. To be with a man like that would most assuredly be the most painful thing I could possibly do to myself. He was a horrible person who had done horrible things, and because of that I had hated him for nearly half of my life. 

Plus, he was only a few years younger than my grandmother, and he’d probably never even considered me romantically because of that. Right? 

No. To love Tywin Lannister romantically was out of the question. I could crave the sight of his eyes and his smile, and I could crave the sound of his voice and his laugh, but I could not love him. It was not a thought that I intended to entertain.

I was afraid of what doing so might unleash in me.

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[smallishzine]

we received a question about shipping, so here is our answer: (there is also important zine info unrelated to shipping at the bottom of the post)

Yes, ship art/writing is allowed, *however*, this is still a zine dedicated specifically to Joel, so if you choose to incorporate that into your piece, it must:

Have Joel as the central focus of the piece

Have something in the piece contributory to the zine besides shipping

be entirely sfw. This goes for any piece anyone makes, keep it Family Friendly. You don’t have to make it, like, toddler safe, and you’ll have a lot more leeway in gore and blood and violence and arson and all that good stuff because it is Joel we’re talking about, but please take pity on the ace-spec minor modding this zine.

try your best to stick to c!Joel’s canon relationships. We’ll be polling about this later but current plan is for the zine to feature pieces dedicated to all the eras of Joel’s content creation as like the thing that our zine is. I don’t know if we’re gonna go as far back as mousyluvscheese, and we’re probably gonna focus on just his Minecraft content unless someone expresses specific interest in doing a piece for something he did outside of that, but yeah that’s currently the plan. With that in mind what I mean by stick to canon is basically with the current plan everything we make up will be based off of what’s already there, so if your ship requires you to retcon and rewrite then probably no. The one exception is probably Lizzie, if she was on the smp then you are allowed to ship them as romantically (or non romantically qprs and other aroacespec headcannons are totally okay) as you want. I’m not sure if I’m explaining myself well so if you want me to elaborate further then feel free to send in an ask.

also I know that everyone has different definitions of ship art so like if you make it with romantic intent but it could also be interpreted as platonic then you don’t even really need to ask if that’s okay (in terms of shipping we’re still gonna make you run your ideas by us before you start working) Also if it happened in canon exactly the way you depicted it, such as Real Life smp smallidarity, double life boat boys, or esmp2 mythicalbeans, then you’re also probably in the clear.

also!!! And this is extremely important even if you definitely aren’t planning on including shipping!!! The plan for what’s going in the zine is in no way set in stone, it’s just a starting place to work off of right now, if you guys wanna do something else then fine by me! However, if the idea gets more difficult/complicated, then I’m gonna need your guy’s help to pull it off. If you wanna tell a complete story, like hotguy comic zine did, I’d love too!! But I’d need you guys to help come up with the story and write it and stuff, as I’m rather incompetent at most things. It was probably a bad idea to put me in charge of this thing. If you wanna make an in universe art book documenting a specific thing Joel has made, like scarland art book did? Sure, super down for that! But you guys would need to pick what thing. You wanna do something that’s never been done before in the zine scene? I’d love too! But you guys would have to come up with the ideas and then let me know, cause currently I got nuthin’. Don’t be afraid to send me asks, if there’s something you want to see Let Me Know!!! Everything is subject to change, and I love getting input from people who want to see the zine get made. If you’ve got ideas, send em’!

wow I got really off topic.

-mod Dinn

[read-write-thrive]

part 1 (both girls in their full outfits) ; part 2 (Edwina in several other outfits/sketches) ; part 3 (the companion to this piece aka Edwina getting ready :)

part 4 of my fem!payneland fanart series!!!! as I talked about with the poll, I have quite a few variations of this piece as I couldn’t make up my mind on a few of the elements, but I listened to your feedback and have included them all here !! the winner of the poll is above the cut with the rest of the variations below to hopefully make this not take up too much of your dash lol

lmk what you think - especially people who voted on the poll!! I’ve also included my thought process below the cut since I know y’all are interested :)

- first and foremost: I have absolutely no idea what order someone would get ready in with all these outfit components, so if you’re sitting here like “why is her makeup done when she has to pull a shirt over her head?” or something like that: you’re probably correct but my getting ready process is always chaos and there aren’t exactly articles on this sort of thing

- along with that: her straightening her hair is probably not accurate to how hair works but again I’ve got v little experience to pull from and trying to find a proper reference was a pain in the ass

yes her bra is fully rendered and then got covered up by her arm. I'm still mad that I did that to myself but I like the pose too much to change it so oh well

- (onto actual historical stuff!!)

- her hair is being straightened here despite straight not being in style during this era for several reasons:

1. I based her hair (and a lot of her style, as per part 1) on Rhoda Dakar of the band The Bodysnatchers, which was an all-female band that was part of the ska revival in the late 70s/early 80s. Rhoda Dakar in particular is a British artist (who’s still making music!) with an English mother and Jamaican father—so not only was she one of the only women of color I could find as part of this subgenre/in ths era/with plenty of photo references, but considering Jayden Revri is Jamaican and English (alongside Indian) himself I thought it was fitting! Her Bodysnatchers look is also much more femme leaning than the rest of the band, as well as her hair styled in a way that suggests straightening, so I carried that over to Charlotte here as well.

2. On a related note, there is a clear historical and modern difference in hairstyles worn/made popular/deemed fashionable by non-white versus white individuals and I thought it only appropriate to acknowledge that in my design of her. I even went so far as to research how her mom’s hair may have been styled since I assume that’s who would’ve been teaching her how to care for her hair in the first place. With that, I looked at popular Indian hair trends from the 60s (figuring that’s when Charlotte’s mom could’ve still been in India and following those trends) which also involved a preference for straight/wavy hair, with soft fringe made popular by Sadhana and the styles ranging from long and luscious to styled up into a very 60s beehive. Charlotte could easily also rock a beehive, especially since the 60s revival was a part of the ska revival movement and Dakar herself styled her hair as such, but I figured Charlotte is a little too much of a rebellious teenager to go for a look she’s seen her mom wear!

- her makeup is based off of the different members of The Bodysnatchers as well as other punk/ska fans at the time. The look usually required more blush that what I gave her here, but I wanted to make sure the eyes were the feature (since Charles wears eyeliner himself) and then the lips being any less just looked weird to me. Also, Dakar doesn't seem to wear the same heavy blush that the other members do, which could be a stylistic choice but could also be the potential lack of blush shades that would work well on her skin tone, so I went that route for Charlotte here

- her underwear is all based off of meticulous searching of historical advertisements, though I will admit the sources are (presumably) American since I couldn't find British equivalents (I'm hoping the styles were similar enough...) in particular:

1. Her bra is based off of: Playtex’s New Made for Me, Playtex’s Right For Me, and Playtex’s Thank Goodness It Fits (which are seriously the names of these as per the ads—how creative /s)

2. Her panties (or pants or underwear or whatever term you want to use) are based off of: Sears Best’s Nylon tricot panties, Sears Very Impressive Panties Nylon panties, and JCPenny’s eiderlon fashion panties

3. (In the below variations) Her pantyhose are theoretically based on L’eggs and Spirit by Stevens’s Slim & Slender pantyhose. But, honestly, they’re mostly based on my own experience wearing hose bc almost none of the ads showed how the gusset of the pantyhose actually looked so I needed to fill in the gaps (one of the many reasons I’m still unhappy with them—plus the wrinkles would not look right no matter what I did !!)

4. Her socks are called slouch socks! I don’t have a specific brand for them but the style was all the rage in the 80s-90s (and I want to own some so bad ngl)

- the hair straightener is just a blob based on the reference photo since trying to research historical hair tools was beyond me at the time apparently, but the style of outlet/plug is accurate to Britain in 1989 so there’s that at least (I have no idea why my brain works like this)

- since I talked about it in the poll I feel like I should address it here: technically having a bush was well out of fashion by 1989 due to the grooming boom and new types of hair removal popular throughout the 80s and 90s. However, she’s wearing multiple layers over it and is technically a teenager (in an abusive household and a catholic all-girls school, at that) so I kept going back and forth on it. It won the poll so it’s in the main post, but you’ll see in the below variations that I really went back and forth on it. that being said I do think it’s interesting given her nylon pants being semi-sheer besides at the gusset, so I’m not mad at it. plus I figured she was definitely shaving her legs/underarms, so maybe that balances it out ?

and finally here’s the other seven variations of this piece :) lmk what you think!!

[jcollinswrites]

FAQ

Is this a one-book story? Yes. I'm currently not planning any sequels. 

How many chapters will there be?  At the moment, I'm planning 10. 

What is the rating of the game? The finished version of the game will be rated adult only. This is not a Young Adult novel by any means, even if the prose seems fun and goofy in some places. The story will contain heavy and dark themes, mental health problems, violence, death, gore, strong language, and optional sexual content, to only mention a few. The whole list of triggering content can be found in the beginning of the game. READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS BEFORE PLAYING, and make sure to check it regularly because the list is constantly updated as I add more content.

Is the story historically correct? No.

Are you a historian? No, I'm not. This is only a passion of mine. 

When does the story take place exactly? In an alternate setting that resembles the end of the Second Intermediate Period / the beginning of the New Kingdom era, so approximately 1550 BC. 

Were the characters inspired by real historical figures? Some of them, yes. 

I noticed that X detail is not historically correct... Yes, I'm aware. Magic isn't real either. 

Why do you use modern words when the story takes place in Ancient Egypt? Because I'm writing it in a way as if I was translating the character's words from Ancient Egyptian into modern English. That's also the reason why I use slang, sometimes incorrect grammar, abbreviations, and such. Additionally, English is NOT my first language. Please keep that in mind. 

Do you use AI? No.

Can I play without romancing anyone? Yes. There is an option that completely disables romance for the entire game. There will also be extra content that you only get if you disabled romance, plus you'll get more screen time with non-romanceable characters, so you won't miss out on the story. 

Will I be able to romance several characters at the same time? There will be one poly route, but other than that, you will get a choice sometime in Chapter 4 that will lock you into a romance route for the rest of the game. The pre-requirement will be only that you have to have at least 2 romance points with your chosen character. 

Who will be in the poly route? Zaia and Ahmose. 

What are the age restrictions for the romance routes? Narmer and Qenna will gently reject a character who is 18-20 years old and is trying to romance them.

Ahmose on default cannot be romanced by a character who is older than 30, therefore, the poly route is also unavailable.

Why can't I romance XY with an 18 year old character? Because this is not a Young Adult novel. Some of the ROs are older and they simply aren't romantically interested in such a young main character. 

Why can I even choose "late teen" for my character if I can't romance all of the ROs with it? Because one of the ROs is 18, so I wanted to give you a chance to play a main character of the same age. 

Why didn't you answer the message I sent you? Probably because I didn't get to it yet. I apologize if it sometimes takes too long. I'm answering the asks in a chronological order, but some of them need more detailed answers than others, and that takes time to write. However, if weeks have passed and I still haven't answered your message, then it could be for one of the following reasons:  A)Your question contained massive spoilers that I couldn't answer without giving away the spoiler. If you suspect this might be the case, turn off Anon and I might be able to answer you privately. HOWEVER, please don't send me messages about things that you found while code-diving, unless it's about a bug or error.  B)The answer to your question can be found in the intro post of the game.  C)The answer to your question can be found in this very FAQ.  D)The message was completely unrelated to the game or myself.  E)The message was disrespectful/ racist/ sexist/ homophobic/ transphobic so it went straight to the trash, where it belongs. 

Will there be a goose DLC? Maybe.

[youhavelessproof]

More Info ↓

When?

2025, for sure. I, myself, am far too busy in the later months of the year to even try and organize it for this year. plus, I think trying to do it this year would be too soon for people to actually get stuff together and participate. as for when in 2025, I'm thinking February. the Teen Titans series started in February and Roy also joined the team in February. (publishing wise.) (also yes Garth quit the issue where Roy officially joined but shhhh.) the specific week in Febuary is not locked in yet, but I'm looking at the 3rd-8th right now. (again only 6 days.) the process of the event being public with an account would probably be in November/December which would give me a couple months to work behind the scenes to set stuff up before stuff like voting starts.

Why 6 Days?

I explain more in the prompts section, but basically the way I have envisioned setting up the prompts of this event up fit better with 6 days rather than 7. rest assured, there will still be a free day.

What Kind Content Would be Allowed?

any and all. as long as the Fab 5 are the central theme. as long as everything is tagged responsibly, any content would be allowed. fics and art would be welcome of any variety. I might had a word minimum for fics, but it would be reasonable.

more clarifications on content ↓

What Would be the Theme Specifically?

the Fab 5's bond in general! it wouldn't be platonic or romantic specific. it might be a little romantic skewed, depending on how things go, but platonic content would be welcome. it would be more comics oriented since the Fab Five is mostly a thing in the comics, but it wouldn't be a rule that it had to be comicsverse.

Would All 5 Characters Need to be Included for Every Work?

realistically, no. I'm not gonna force everyone to draw or write 5 characters for every fic of artwork. I think that would just be unrealistic. the way it would probably be done is that you could write about/draw whatever members of the Fab 5 you wanted for the specific prompt you choose. the core theme is their bond, so whatever aspect of that bond you want to explore you can. I would encourage fics about all 5, but that doesn't mean that's required or that all 5 would have to physically be there.

Would Other Characters be Allowed?

of course. as long as it's Fab 5-centric, I see no reason not to allow other characters.

Would NSFW Content be Allowed?

yes absolutely. I have no plans of making the event NSFW or SFW specific just as I won't make it platonic or romantic specific.

Would the Event be Era Specific? (Teen Titans, Titans, etc.)

nope. I'm planning on making it Fab 5 in general, not just specifically Teen Titans Fab 5. there will probably be prompts that are era specific, but you won't have to pick those if you don't want. AUs would also be allowed!

Prompts?

yes there are gonna be prompts as most week events do.

more clarifications on prompts ↓

How Would the Prompts be Determined?

there would likely be two forms. one where people could suggest prompts and the second where you could vote for the ones you want. again, I think I'll probably wait until November/December to start the process of getting prompts so that it's not too long waiting once the prompts are chosen.

Would Any Prompts be Character Specific?

yes! at least, probably. I have been thinking of having a section on the prompt suggestion form to submit character specific prompts. there would be one per day minus the 6th free day. the set up would basically look like this if I go through with it:

prompt 1 | prompt 2 | prompt 3 | character specific prompt

Day 1 would be Dick, Day 2 would be Wally, Day 3 would be Garth, Day 4 would be Donna, and Day 5 would be Roy. (in order of when they joined the team. Dick, Wally, and Garth were the first to team up so they're in order of when they were introduced into the comics.) you would not be required to use the character prompt or even make that day's work character specific, (you could have every day be Wally-centric for example if you wanted,) but I think it would be cool to offer an opportunity to focus on each member of the Fab 5. this is still in the brainstorming phase, so the specific set up might change, but this is my idea right now!

Would There be a Catch-Up Week?

yes absolutely. there wouldn't be strict cut off for submissions. things might not be reblogged timely or at all after a certain point, but the ao3 collection would stay open. there might also be bonus prompts for the catch-up week inspired by Omega Dick Week 2024. we'll see.

Do I, Moon, Have Literally Any Experience Running Events?

nope! :D however, I do have a plan in mind and have plans to ask for help when I need it. (which I probably will.) I still have experience in fandom and have participated multiple events myself. I'm not too worried about my ability to make this happen as long as people want it to happen. I'm also planning on getting someone to help me run the event if this gets enough of a positive response. if you interested in helping, feel free to DM me on here or on Discord (youhavelessproof)

I think that's all the info that I think would be helpful in the decision of being interested in the event. if you have any more questions or concerns though, or just have thoughts you want to share, feel free to ask or reach out! 🩵

I did also do a quick search on Tumblr and it doesn't seem like anyone has plans to do this, but if I'm stepping on anyone's toes feel free to tell me hfsdjkhfjksh

[ihaventcomeupwthanameforaheroyet]

Not to make everything about my blorbo, but I've seen people wondering whether B&G even exists in Anne Rice's world and if it does, who wrote/published this book. Therefore, I need to post these quotes from PL:

...

Yes, this book exists, and Lestat has read it, and it was David who published the story. I am awfully sorry, but it was my blorbo! That's what was written in PL!

Which brings us to a very interesting question: how could David, a historian (among other things), fail to notice the discrepancy between "Marius was born from a slave mother" in TVL and "Marius was a Senator in Rome" in B&G. I wouldn't be much surprised if Lestat or even Daniel failed to notice this, but David? Well. I have no explanation so far, therefore, I'll just leave this question here.

Yes, but also. (That's where the actual facts are over and it's just me trying to figure out how the book was written.) David probably wrote the story down exactly the way Thorne told it - it wouldn't be the first time David is writing something while the narrator is in chains, you know. (That's how MtD was written - Lestat was in chains, and David wrote the story down on his behalf.) But I am pretty certain Thorne could not provide the full picture, because, you know? Marius was heavily infodumping, and Thorne did not possess even the kind of cultural background every modern person takes for granted. I don't think Thorne is dumb, OK? But there were so many details to remember and all these names and places meant nothing to him. He probably was like "Venice where? Botichelli who?" all the time. Therefore, the story probably required a lot of factchecking, and David probably spent some time between Marius' and Maharet's households because Thorne had a unique, outstanding narrator's voice which added a lot of value to the book but the details had to be checked with Marius, and Marius was also the one who had the right to authorise the publication...

Please don't tell me the events of Blackwood Farm took place while David was still working on B&G. Please don't tell me Lestat called Merrick because David was out of reach, working on the book. Please don't tell me David came back to the world with something he very correctly believed to be his best book only to find out that Merrick jumped into the fire during his absence. Like, imagine: you have just finished your best book, but the price of this book was your loved one's life. And you don't know if you would be able to prevent it if you were not busy doing something else, but at least you would be able to try? But no, Merrick died in David's absence, just like Joshua. Damn. I would never try to write anything again after this. And you know what? David never published another book again, as far as we know. He gave the account back to Lestat and never tried again. Think about this. No, really.

Oh, I've made myself sad again. Great job, me.