#I know this ask wasn't written or sent to be anything but that what it says it is

[churipu]

THE MOMENT THEY REALIZE THEY'RE IN LOVE ִ ࣪𖤐

featuring. gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen, itadori yuuji, toji fushiguro x reader

warnings. cursing, college! au, toji being a single father during his second term of uni (i searched that most japanese college uses 2 terms or trimester system / 3 terms, 1 term of uni in japan is around 15 weeks apparently) -> please tell me if i get this wrong.

note. omg, for the anons who have sent in requests to me, i apologize if these came out before your requests did, i'm trying to empty out my drafts :( but pls note that i am not ignoring your requests at all, it will be written, i promise <;33

GOJO SATORU

when he finds himself checking his phone countless of times, waiting for your message

i promise you, you both started out as work partners in one of your lectures. the two of you were complete strangers to each other — he doesn't know you, and you don't know him. but, either way, the two of you had to get to know each other because this was a crucial grade to pass this lecture.

gojo never thought about having feelings towards you, his work partner. he thought to himself, he'd just get this work done, pass this lecture, and never see you again.

but fate is a funny thing.

the way you made him feel like he wasn't just special because of his face, but his heart too. whereas most people in campus would consider him the pretty boy who could go head-to-head with the hottest celebrities — they just think of him as a pretty boy. and gojo would just go along with them, he gets used to it.

but you? you didn't consider him special at all. although, you did make him feel special the way other people can't.

gojo deep down, knows he was fucked up the moment he finds himself checking his phone to see if you'd reply to his messages, and when you do, he gets so happy. gojo was never a fast responder to everyone — because he practically receives the same kind of messages, "gojo hang out with us", "gojo go out with me", "gojo i like you".

but with you? he won't waste a second at all. even if sometimes you didn't reply as fast as he does, because you are a busy person in campus. you'll work on that after you both started dating, i promise.

SUKUNA RYOMEN

when you stood up for him when nobody would.

sukuna, how do i say this? not everyone is fond of him, people are scared of him — they talk shit behind his back, and don't dare to approach him. people dreaded when they have to be in the same group with him, despite the fact that he actually works; they still think he's a bad person.

"you guys are talking shit to a person who's in our group, if you want to say something to him, have the balls to say it to his face. and while he's here, why don't you tell him about it?" you tell the two people who were sitting beside you, who had been talking in whispers about how they were unlucky to be grouped up with sukuna.

and sukuna? he could honestly care less, he'd gotten used to those kind of things anyway. but when you actually stood up for him, he could only look at you with an amused smile.

he's definitely curious about you after that day — he has pride. and he'd never admit that he's actually pretty thankful that you, the first person to stand up for him, actually did what you did. because now people are a little terrified of being told off by you.

sukuna finally sucks it up at the end of the semester and tries to talk to you. yes, it took him the whole semester to talk to you, asking you for your number, and then thanking you for what you did because nobody has ever done that before to him.

ITADORI YUUJI

when you went all out to tutor him so he'd pass his lectures, teaching him patiently when he doesn't understand something.

yuuji hates studying. and when his lecturer asked you to tutor him, he feels extremely bad for you — he feels that he'd just going to waste your time tutoring him, when he knows that he's going to fail this one subject.

but when you reassured him, and encouraged him. saying that you will do anything to teach him so that he could pass, he gets a little emotional at the thought. you both were just mere classmates, and he barely knows you, vice versa.

when he doesn't understand a topic, he gets so frustrated at himself for not being able to understand it. but you, you were very patient with the male, reassuring him that you had the time to teach him over so that he will be able to understand the said topic.

and when he does finally understand, he gets so happy. he started looking forwards to your tutoring sessions, and like everyone said: if you enjoy something, it passes by quickly. and it's true, yuuji feels like time went by in a flash, and the exams soon started.

he passed with flying colors, he makes sure that you know about his grades — and points out that without you, he wouldn't be able to pass. yuuji, gets a little upset when he realizes that if the exams are over, you had no more tutoring sessions with him; which meant no more conversations.

so he has to ask you out right then, he didn't want to just return as mere classmates. he wanted to be more than that.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

when you didn't care about his shitty reputation of being a single father while still being on the second term of uni.

being a single parent is hard enough. not to mention, in university. not married, with a baby itself gets a lot of unwanted (negative) attention — toji, who once failed to get a babysitter on a weekday, and so he had to bring his eight month old son to class.

his son—megumi— was a calm baby, thankfully. the young one didn't cry or babble during lectures, and he just slept through it. toji was a little relieved to say the least, but ever since people find out about him being a single father to an eight month old baby, a lot of assumptions and words have gone around.

toji hated group works, especially when he has to pick the group himself. people didn't want a single father to be in their group, they assumed that the male would focus on his baby and ends up deserting the group work.

so when that particular day where he has to bring megumi to campus, strapped on a baby carrier on his chest. his lecturer just had to give out a partner work, and to add the cherry on top; the lecturer left the class to choose their own partner. so the male sat on his place, a pencil in between his nose and upper lip as he puckered them lightly — hearing his classmates choosing each other.

he figured that he could just do this and get the grade himself, solo. but when you came up and slipped into the seat next to him, he was of course surprised.

you asked him if he would like to partner up with you for this work, and after a few seconds, he accepted your offer.

toji knew it was getting bad when you didn't care about what people say about you getting close to him. just by choosing him for this work made your reputation falter a bit, and he was honestly ready for you to back out of the partner work.

but you didn't, and he knew it's bad for him, his feelings, and his heart.

the way you treated him and megumi like they're both normal (which they are normal humans), and the way you always make him feel included makes his heart race. sometimes, when he fails to look for a babysitter when you both are working for this project, you tell him he didn't have to since megumi is a calm baby.

he finds himself in awe when baby megumi plays with you during both of your little meet ups outside of class to do the project. he's in love.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #jjk #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fluff #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #gojo x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori fluff #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x reader

[dwindlinghaze]

lover in the foyer

(remus lupin x reader)

summary: remus lupin loves you, but his best friend 'likes' you too. so you both ended up fake dating.

contents: fluff, hurt/comfort, protective remus, r and remus are totally in love fr.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

it was a secret that you have a little crush on remus lupin. you kept that information to yourself 'cause you couldn't let the others know- it would be too embarrassing if they do. for years you've been hiding your feelings. burying it deep inside your heart.

well, that was until one day on the marauder's dormitory, a conversation was spoken.

"i've got something to tell," james started, sitting up right on his bed.

"what is it?" remus replied.

"promise you won't call me crazy?" he asked.

"we promise!" the other three said in unison.

"i'm starting to like a girl... and it's not lily," said the boy.

"what?" sirius asked, not believing what his mate just said. it was globally known that james potter loves lily evans. no one else. it has been six years since.

"yeah... it's y/n,"

a ringing silence filled the room.

you weren't super close with them four. although you are kind of friends with remus. you two talked occasionally when passing through the hallways or in the great hall.

during those small little encounters, remus might've caught some feelings. something different bloomed in his heart. hearing james saying this made his heart burn.

"i feel like she'd be a good distraction- i mean from lily. maybe that way i can make lily jealous and then she'll confess to me. even if lily-flower didn't, y/n would still be decent as a girlfriend i guess. no harm," james continued.

remus frowned, his skin burning. how could someone do that? having you as a second option? total bullshit. he wouldn't let you get treated like that. he wouldn't let james pick on your self esteem like that.

you're too good for anyone. he knows. being a substitute for someone because their crush doesn't like them back is not morally right. your soft heart is too precious to be crushed that way.

"prongs- i think that's a good idea! by then you can get lily to confess to you! you'd be everything!" sirius encouraged james, much to remus' dismay.

"moons?"

"moony has been real quiet-"

"i don't think that's a good idea," remus said sternly. he would be flaring laser beams from his eyes at james if he were a cartoon character.

james' mouth dropped, "why?"

"because- cause she's my girlfriend!" remus spoke abruptly, not knowing what he had actually said.

"your what?" all three of them screamed in shock. remus never said anything about a girl.

"how long?"

"how did that happen?"

"why didn't you tell us?"

"stop!" remus yelled, making them shut their mouth. he was panicking now. you are not his girlfriend. you'll never be. not now. not even tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.

"i started to date her like... two weeks ago," remus said before standing up, grabbing his bag before he headed out of the room. "i have to go, she said something about wanting to meet me in the library."

he fumbled with the hem of his sweater. it was cold, but he was sweating heavily. he has to find you.

thank god the marauder's map was on his bag or he would be caught lying. he saw your name- beautifully written- you were on the clocktower field, sitting alone.

remus ran to where you are, panting when he arrived.

"oh y/n!" he said, taking heavy breaths.

"yeah? remus?" you looked up from your book, gazing at him with the softest yet confused pretty eyes.

"i made a big mistake- i'm so so sorry!" remus said hurriedly. his sweat trickling down his forehead.

"calm down rem, i'm sure it wasn't that horrible! sit beside me, we can talk," you sent him a comforting smile, patting the empty seat beside you.

remus sat down, wiping his palms on his trousers. how does he say it? when does he start?

"you okay?" you asked.

"noyou'rereallyprettyandkindandlovelyandsweetandiknowyouwillneverlikemebackandyouwillhatemeforthisbecauseiclaimedthatyouaremygirlfriendfortwoweeksandimsososorry."

"say that again?" you laughed, pulling out a napkin to hand it to the poor nervous boy before you.

"i may or may not have said that you are my girlfriend in front of my friends."

"why would you say that?" your heart skipped a beat, taking in the words remus has spoken. you'd be lying if you said that you've never dreamed of this- being called remus lupin's girl.

"because- it's kind of stupid really. i got it out before i even know what i was talking about that moment," he scrambled with his words, finding it hard to form a sentence right now.

"basically, james told me that he likes you but i know he does not like you. he said he wanted to go out with you just so lily can realise that she is in love with him. and i would never let him do that to you. putting you second, you deserve so much better than that. and long story short, i said that you are my girlfriend... yeah."

remus lupin was doing this for you. so that you don't get played. how sweet.

"uhm," you looked down, playing with the hem of your skirt.

"uhm- would you be in for- y'know fake dating... me..?" remus said awkwardly. "it's alright if you don't want to, i'll make some excuses. but please don't agree on going out with james. i don't want you hurt," he whispered the last words. it was half self-indulgent in his part. seeing his the girl he's been pining for years dating his best friend is not a good feeling. but he also doesn't want you to be a second choice. it feels horrible to be. knowing that feeling all to well.

"okay- i guess i can date you," you said shyly. cheeks turning crimson.

"okay- great. we can stop if you don't feel comfortable. don't wanna pressure- just for a few weeks," he said once more.

"it's fine rem, or should i call you honey? or darling? or-" you laughed, seeing his flushed face. he is so adorable. how lucky you are to have him as your 'boyfriend'.

"how can i be a girlfriend?" you asked as you two walked back from the field.

holding hands.

it wasn't in his mind that you would ever hold his hand but you are now. dreams really do come true huh.

"we just keep it normal- i mean like we hold hands, and maybe i will hug you more often, those pda stuffs. remember, only if you're comfortable." such a gentleman he is. he always makes sure that you are comfortable everytime. gosh that gave you the fluttery butterflies.

"okay, i can manage," you giggled.

"y/n- darlin'', can i sit with you during breakfast tomorrow?" remus whispered. you both were sitting on the common room in the corner, the other marauders sprawled a few feet away.

"sure, you can," you smiled softly at him.

he squeezed your hands, resting his cheek on your shoulder. this small action gave you butterflies, the pretty sparks. his face was pressed against the fabric of your soft cardigan, with one of his arm around you.

it's just been three days and you have fallen more in love.

remus on the other hand is trying not to get this too much in his head or he'd go feral. being this close to you and basically cuddling on the couch felt like a fever dream. one that he doesn't want to wake up from.

your silky skin, that periwinkle smile, those wonderstruck lips, angelic face, your incandescent touch, those misty eyes. he loves them all. how could one not? he felt the luckiest in the school for having this. having you with him on a cold friday night under the same fluffy blanket of yours. the smell of you intoxicating his nose. he isn't bothered by it. he enjoyed it.

the most obvious thing in a relationship is display of affection. though it wasn't hard for any of you to do that. remus held your bag, your books, your papers, even the things you can do yourself. he insisted that he had to help you bring them.

and that goes for days. you and remus fake dating.

james was still skeptical about remus sudden relationship. remus was never the one to look for love in his life. well- at least that's what sirius observed.

he couldn't help but look more into details of remus' 'relationship'. he noticed how remus never kissed you in public. or at least when he's in the same room as you and remus are.

"if you've been dating for three weeks now, why haven't you two got in the next step yet?" james squinted his eyes at the both of you. holding hands while studying.

"whatever do you mean by that?" remus questioned.

"like- i don't know kissing..?"

"i do kiss her often," remus replied, shrugging before he squeezed your knuckles, rubbing soft circles.

"how come i've never seen it?" james asked childishly.

"well here. maybe because you don't have to see or know or hear everything about my personal life," remus replied rather coldly.

"i'm starting to think you two are f-"

james' words were cut short as remus' lips locked to yours, wrapping them in a deep kiss.

james let out an "o" sound, walking outside the common room because the tension would be awkward for the three of you.

the moment he stepped out of the room, remus pulled away. eyes brimmed with fear and embarrassment. "sweetheart, i'm so sorry," remus said.

"it's okay remus..." you still haven't processed what had just happened but you sure did kind of enjoyed it.

"um we- we should do that more often. i mean- to make it more real y'know..." he said stiffly. it's not actually about 'making it more real'. he just wanted to kiss you, feel you. he really liked kissing you.

you didn't know what you're getting yourself into. you thought whatever this thing is would only last for two days and then you'll be back in your daydreaming days. but it wasn't. remus is still there.

that goes on for months. the both of you went from holding hands, to kissing, to lean on each other, to more boyfriend and girlfriend things. if you didn't know better, you'd think he's not faking all of this.

hogsmeade trip is coming up, that's the only thing the students are talking about right now. visiting new shops and doing early holiday shoppings. you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited. not only will the village be like a winter wonderland with the snow all over the ground and the roof, but also since remus is going with you for the day.

"you excited, dove?" remus smiled when he met you halfway on the walk to the carriage. he pulls out his gloved hand from his pocket to place it around your back.

you pressed yourself against his warmth, giggling in content. you didn't really have to speak, remus knows.

he kissed the top of your forehead, then guide you to the carriage with some random students.

as the thestrals pulled, you beamed when the snow starts falling down. perfect. everything is so perfect right now. snowflakes fall down your lashes and hair, a sight remus wanted to tattoo in his mind forever.

you had worn make up today, he can visibly see the pinkish shadow in your eyelids. remus couldn't help but admire how pretty your make up looks. how you're so good at doing anything.

your lips were a pink shade close to your natural ones, he wanted to kiss them- give your lips warmth. he was staring at you for so long to the point where he didn't realise that the carriage had arrived.

"it's pretty here! i always love seeing snow on the roof," you smiled brightly at the snow-covered roofs, inhaling the smell of fresh snow falling from the sky.

"they sure are," he agreed, "do you want to go to the cafe for a bit? the ride was cold," he blew his palms.

"of course!"

smell of fresh baked goods filled your nose, contrast to the outside. you two chose a spot near the fireplace, ordering a cup of hot cocoa.

there was a comfortable silence between the both of you. neither really have to talk. you just smiled at each other occasionally, looking around the room after. times like these make your fake relationship feels real.

when you finished your cups of hot cocoa, you two went to honeydukes, buying lots of sweets for the holiday stocks.

remus paid for your chocolates. you insisted on paying them yourself but he refused. dumping his handful of sweets over yours so they were mixed, making it impossible for you to pick yours up.

"rem, you know you can't do this right?"

"why not?" he pouted, "i want to be a good boyfriend after all."

he gave butterflies to your stomach, you hide your visibly burning cheeks on his shoulder, hugging his arm.

he loved that, so much. it feels so real, like you actually love being with him.

then you walked in a bookstore, choosing your read for the month. this time you were paying for him. "you're being so kind, and i love that but let me reciprocate that too!"

remus just nodded in defeat, kissing the crown of your head.

you and remus had a wonderful trip, one that will always be remembered. just before you part your ways, you said, "i've enjoyed the trip a lot. thank you remus for spending the day with me." you yawned, rubbing your eyes. then you kissed him. it was remus who initiates the kisses first, but this time it's you.

he cant help but feel those butterflies inside him again, holding your figure securely. "i'm getting tired, i'll see you tomorrow, love." you kissed him once more before climbing up to the girl's dormitory. leaving remus in utter shock.

maybe you guys aren't fake dating after all. maybe this is real all along. the last time the two of you ever said 'fake' was so long ago. that made him realise that this is real.

oh he can't sleep that night.

the next morning remus was skipping down to the great hall for breakfast with an uncontrolled smile on his face. this morning he woke up earlier, took a warm shower, brushed his hair, and do all things that james potter does.

"you look extra happy today hm?" james questioned, quirking one of his eyebrows up.

"just had a really good date yesterday, so good," remus replied, grabbing a plate of waffles with yoghurt and a bunch of other fruits.

"i didn't know you like kiwis," sirius snorted.

remus rolled his eyes, scoffing, "it's for my girl, look she's coming!" he said shyly, waving his hand for you.

you sat beside him greeting the students around a good morning. "you look- different, did you cut your hair?"

remus laughed, shaking his head.

"oh," you giggled, scrunching your face. remus loves that sight. you look so pretty and adorable every single day, he was so lucky. "you're handsome, y'know," you opted, making his cheeks redder.

"ugh lovebirds," sirius gagged, stuffing his mouth with potatoes.

remus smiled to himself, then he grabbed your fingers, intertwining them together. "here, your breakfast, i cut the waffles so you can eat easier. not that i think you'll have a hard time cutting waffles- you are perfectly capable of doing anything by yourself."

your heart fluttered at his words.

how much of a gentleman he is being! you wished he is your actual boyfriend. the girl that ends up with him must be so lucky.

"thank you so much," you said.

christmas is coming, and there was a party thrown at the gryffindor's common room.

"it's not even christmas yet padfoot," remus stated.

"i know, that's why it's called a pre-christmas celebration party!" sirius cheered as he wrote a letter to one of the firewhiskey store at hogsmeade, ordering boxes of the drink. he also ordered some butterbeer for those who don't drink.

"well you better celebrate cause this is the day where i'm asking lily flower out!" james said happily.

"sure prongs," remus nodded unconvincingly.

"are you enjoying the party?" he came up to you right after your friend was leaving to the bathroom.

"i am! loving the option of butterbeer," you replied.

"you haven't got any drinks?" remus asked.

"nope, i just had a chocolate cake and a butterbeer," you said.

"good good, you don't want to be like sirius or james," he pointed to the both of them. they were dancing on the sofa, jumping like rockstars, holding nonexistent guitars.

you laughed at them before grabbing his hand. "hope you don't mind, getting crowded here."

remus squeezed your knuckles, "i don't mind, you can hold me whenever you'd like."

the the two of your heard a joyous yell from james potter. "lily said yes!" he said to everyone. you can already sense lily's eye roll from there.

"finally!" remus laughed.

but you didn't. what happens now? are you and remus going to stop dating because james will not pick on you anymore or will this be continued.

that night ended with you staring at the ceiling, frowning of whatever's coming.

remus was still his lovely self, he still gives you kisses, hugs you, gets your breakfast ready, and all that sweet things he does.

you on the other hand was sceptical. maybe he just forgot or maybe he didn't know how to tell you. so you did the only thing in your mind. avoiding him little by little as days passed. it's the only way to get this over with as soon as possible before you completely fall for him more and more. like people say 'you've got to leave before you get left'.

remus noticed as days passed. you don't kiss him back anymore. you don't hug his arm. you rarely touch his hand. it was frustrating.

did you really stopped liking him? or was everything just in his head. he couldn't get those thoughts out of his mind. he was feeling less joyful as he usually does.

one evening you saw him alone in front of the fire place, a book open but he was staring at the burning fire. you couldn't help but saw how his beautiful face was forming frown, forehead crinkling and sorrow eyes.

you approached the boy, placing your hand on his shoulder gently.

remus flinched, turning around, "i didn't know you're there." his voice was croaky.

"it's okay, i just got here. are you feeling alright?" you sat beside him, knees touching.

"um i- don't know..?" he replied, his eyes averted back to the fire.

your heart sunk, a part of you knew that this is maybe your fault. you were doing this to him.

"rem, talk to me. maybe i can help."

"you've been distant," he replied. he cringed at how stupid those words sounded.

"i uh-"

"did i do something? i'm sorry, i'm sorry for making you feel that way. if you don't want to be together that's fine and-"

"what are you talking about? remus you didn't do anything wrong!"

"well why are you avoiding me as if our relationship means nothing."

"remus-," you paused, trying to find the words. "we are faking all of this remember?"

"what?" remus asked. you could see the pure shock in his face also a tint of sadness . "i thought we were dating- not fake dating."

"huh? since when?"

"after our hogsmeade date... i'm so sorry for jumping on to conclusions way too fast. i just thought we were together because it felt so real. like just- you and me- we-"

your heart clenched, "what if i told you that it felt real too?" you whispered.

"what do you mean?" he avoided eye contact.

"i love spending time with you. you made that hogsmeade trip so memorable for me. no one has made me feel so- so content. it felt like you- you like me."

"i like you," he replied.

"i like you too," you replied.

he relaxed, a soft smile on his lips. "so you thought we were faking all of this while i'm over here thinking that we are mutually in love?"

you giggled, trying to ignore the part where he said love. "you never asked me to be your girlfriend, how was i supposed to know?"

"okay yes that was my fault, so would you like to be my absolutely-real-not-fake-long-time girlfriend?" remus asked with a cheeky smile.

"i accept your offer as your absolutely-real-not-fake-long-time girlfriend," you replied.

you both laughed, and remus pulled you to his chest as he rest his chin over your shoulder. "remember earlier when i said i like you? scratch that- i love you."

#remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fic #remus fluff #remus lupin fluff

[lovingmattysposts]

Quiet 8

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7

pairing: y/n and Matt sturniolo

summary: a girl with a lot of baggage and a boy with even more try to help put each others pieces back together one by one. A story about a girl who’s broken and a boy who doesn’t talk

warnings: none?

——————————————————————

I blinked my eyes open and realized how much my muscles hurt, my body was contorted in a way I wasn’t used to.

I lifted my head realizing that I was using Matt as a pillow. I sat up and blinked down, only to see he was fast asleep as well. His arms loosley wrapped around my waist.

I must have fallen asleep after we were done talking--rather, writing to each other. I couldn't help the smile that flew onto my face. He looked peaceful. His eyes closed, his lips parted and his glasses against his face.

I didn't want to wake him up, I didn't want to ruin his peace. I didn't know how often he got it. I felt his fingertips burn into my skin where they were placed. I swallowed and shook away the goosebumps.

Weird feeling.

I looked out my window to see the sun had set. The streetlamps shining through my window. I felt my phone buzz. I turned only to realize, it wasn't my phone. It was Matt's.

It buzzed and buzzed and buzzed.

I looked over at him. He hummed in his sleep and pulled me closer to him with his arms wrapped around me. My eyes widened and my face went red.

He was sleeping, it's not like he meant to pull me closer. Still, the goosebumps returned. My arms went up to rub them away again.

What the hell was this feeling?

My attention returned to the buzzing next to Matt. I looked down and reached over unlocking his phone before scanning the messages.

The many messages, from Chris and Nick. I sat up, pulling from Matt's embrace, my heart beating.

Chris

where the hell are you?

it's almost 5. Why aren’t you home?

are you hurt?

Matt, you're scaring us.

Matt. Answer.

My heart was beating through my ears as I scrolled onto Nick’s messages.

Nick

Chris is about to raise hellfire you better be safe.

God, Matt. Please be safe.

Answer.

Where are you??

I threw the blankets off me and it stirred Matt awake. He sat up and I looked over at him, handing him his phone quickly. He rubbed his eyes before he blinked down at his phone.

His eyes went wide once they focused on the phone. He quickly typed back and sent a message before he stared at the phone.

He sighed and set it down. I felt guilt swarm in my chest from how scared Chris and Nick must have been from Matt not answering. I looked down at my lap and closed my eyes.

Matt swallowed before he pushed off my covers and stood up off my bed. It almost felt like a one night stand. Minus the sex part, and the relationship part, and the....everything else. I looked up at him. He looked down at me.

"I'm sorry" I whispered. Not knowing what else to say. I can't imagine the panic I just put them through. Matt walked forward and grabbed my arm pulling me up and he shook his head. I just let out a breath.

He just shook his head and placed his hand on the back of my head looking down at me. I knew what he was meaning.

It's not your fault.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" I asked softly. He sighed letting his hand drop as he looked back down at his phone. He shook his head softly.

I wrapped my arms around myself and nodded. He looked down at me before turning and walking towards my door.

"Thank you---" I said. He turned. "For being so nice to me today" I said quietly. He smiled and nodded, said nothing else and just left. I sighed as I sat back down on my bed.

My eyes glanced over to the notebook that had words written against it. Proof of an actual conversation. I smiled and wrapped my arms around my legs.

-

The next school day was slow. Matt didn't say anything to me today. I think he might have been burnt out with our converstation yesterday. Who knows how long it's been since he's talked to someone for more than two sentences.

It was fine with me, I'm just glad he communicated with me. It was the first glimpse of hope into our friendship. So if he didn't talk to me today, I was okay with that. He seemed nose deep into his sketchbook today anyway. I'd never seen him so focused.

I pushed the doors of the school open as Matt followed behind me.

"Thank god it's the weekend. I didn't think i'd survive another day" I mumbled looking over at Matt as the chill of the outside air came over me. Matt nodded.

I sighed as we started to walk in our normal direction before I paused, hearing someone call my name.

"Y/n!"

I turned on my feet before I saw Jake running up to us, me. I looked over at Matt who stared blankly at Jake. I looked up forcing a smile.

"Hey" I breathed. Jake stopped in front of me and smile. "Hey, do you want to come back with me? For the biology thing?" He asked. I raised my eyebrows and let out a breath, feeling Matt's presence next to me more than I should.

"I thought---“ I glanced at Matt. “I thought we agreed on later tonight" I scratched the back of my head awkwardly. Jake glanced over to Matt. Matt looked down at his feet.

"No, yeah. I just thought----later works" Jake shook his head. I nodded. "Do you want me to give you are ride home at least?" He asked looking down at me.

And leave Matt to walk by himself?

"No it's okay, really" I said shaking my head. He frowned. "Are you sure? Charolette’s a long walk from here" He breathed looking down at me full of concern. I felt Matt look up next to me and stare at me. My eyes widened.

"I-" I swallowed nerves flushing over me. "It's fine--I like to walk" I shook my head. Jake pursed his lips before nodding.

He reached down and grabbed my hand, moving his thumb over my fingers. I froze and looked down at our hands.

"Well, just text me. I really need help" He tugged me towards him. My mouth opened and I cleared my throat. Was he flirting with me? In front of Matt? I felt my face go blood red.

"Yeah, okay" I nodded. I wish that I didn't feel Matt's presence or stare as much as I did. "Okay" Jake smiled squeezing my hand and staring down at me.

"Okay" I nodded back chuckling. Then he dropped my hand and stepped back before turning away.

I just watched him as he friends walked up to him and turned back and looked at me. I turned back to Matt who just looked at me. He pushed off his feet before walking in the other direction. My face dropped and I walked after him.

"Hey, slow down" I said as I walked after him. He let out a breath and looked forward. I swallowed as I looked at him.

"Okay I lied about living on Charolette. Does that make me such a bad person that I don't want the boy with the jaguar to know the shit-hole I live in?" I snapped looking at him. Matt glanced down at me and then just looked back up.

"I'm just helping him with biology" I mumbled looking down at my feet. Matt raised his eyebrows. I looked over at him.

"What? I am" I defended myself. I wasn't lying. I didn't know what that was all about back there.

"Is something bothering you?" I asked softly. It's frustrating. It's so frustrating that he won't speak to me sometimes. Sometimes he communicates, sometimes he didn't. It was eating me alive. I didn't know when he was mad, upset, angry.

No reply.

He sighed and looked forwards and silence came between us.

"Can I come over?" I breathed softer. "You know--Until then?" I asked looking up at him. He glanced down at me. He looked off and then shrugged. I sighed and looked down at my feet, hating his feeling.

I almost thought the shrug meant a no before he tugged my arm into the direction of his house.

-

He pushed the door open to his house and I followed suit. I heard other voice assuming it was his brothers and I couldnt help but let the anxiety in me spike a bit.

I let the door close behind me before I saw Chris looking at us, Nick had his head down in papers at the kitchen table.

"If it isn't the girl who kidnapped my brother" Chris crossed his arms over his chest. I swallowed as I stared over at him.

Matt glared at him as he shrugged his backpack off and let it fall to the ground. I looked down at my feet.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have-"

"Do you realize that we had absolutely no idea where he was for three hours? He could have been dead for all we knew" He snapped at me. Matt breathed harder next to me. I swallowed and shook my head.

"All because you fell asleep? You couldn't think to text?" Chris walked up to us. I glared at him.

"I'm not in charge of him" I snapped.

"No you're not. We are" He snapped back pointing towards Nick. Matt pushed his brother's shoulder that was approaching me and shook his head.

I looked between them as they glared at each other.

"Matt go take out the trash please” Nick mumbled from across the room. “—and stop acting like children, both of you" Nick announced from the kitchen table, shaking his head at his brothers.

Matt glanced over at him and then dropped his tense shoulders before turning and walking out of the front door.

I turned and watched as exited. I turned back at Chris who shook his head.

"We have to talk" He grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the backdoor. I pulled against his grip. "I don't want to talk you" I protested but he was already pulling the backdoor open.

Nick shook his head as we passed me. Chris pulled me out and slid the door closed. I ripped my arm from him and placed my hand over where he held me.

"Don't grab me like that" I snapped. Chris took in a breath and swallowed.

"Sorry I just--" He shook his head. I blinked at him.

"You can't do that Y/n. You can't just run off with him and not tell us what’s going on. Matt's never not come home after school" He ran his hands through his hair.

"He could have been god knows where, he could have been hurt. He could have done something-" He paused before meeting my eyes.

"You can't not tell us. You scared us" He shook his head, anger dissipating and sadness washing in. I looked down at my feet realizing how it must of felt for them when Matt didn't come home.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean any worry" I whispered. He sighed and looked down at me before sitting down on the steps leading to the backyard. I looked down at him before sitting down next to him.

"You're too protective over him. Matt he's---his own person. He's fine" I breathed looking at him. Chris looked up at me with a scowl.

"He's not fine. You don't know him" He snapped. I just looked at him before pressing my chin against my knees.

"No, but i'm getting there. He....seems fine" I whispered not knowing how much I actually believed that. Chris looked down at his feet.

"Yeah when he's with you" He mumbled. I looked over at him. "What does that mean?" I asked. Chris didn't look up at me and just shrugged.

"It's the only time he smiles" He breathed. I blinked at Chris as he looked down before looking away. Silence came between us for a second.

"Can I ask you something?" I turned to him. He looked up at me. "What happened a few days ago with Matt? I asked to come over and he just...shook me off. He seemed upset, I couldn't get it out of him" I swallowed.

"I thought it was because I went out with Jake but--"

"Jake?" Chris questioned looking at me. I opened my mouth and then looked away. "Yeah, Jake Andrews. I went out with him and his--"

"Jake Andrews?" Chris asked sitting up. I looked over at him and shrugged. Chris chuckled and shook his head at me. I glared at him.

"Are you always such a dick?" I snapped. Chris shook his head smiling. "No, but Jake Andrews is" He said shaking his head. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"No he isn't. He's nice to me" I defended. Chris leaned back and nodded. "Oh yeah, I’m sure he's real nice to you" He said shaking his head. I pushed his shoulder.

"You don't even know him" I snapped. Everything that fell from Chris's mouth was condescending and I was growing tired of it. Chris rolled his eyes.

"Jake Andrews? Plays hockey for Height's team?" He raised his eyebrows. I blinked at him. "I know him" He nodded. I clenched my jaw and looked off.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Why you wanna take me out?" He smiled tilting his head back. I glared at him in disgust.

"No, I was just wondering if you were as much of an asshole to me as you would be to her. Seeing you don't have one, I can clearly see why" I hit back at him. He clenched his jaw.

"And don't flatter yourself, you're not even my type" I mumbled. Chris scoffed. "I look like Matt, I am your type" He responded. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked over at him, confusion on my face.

"Matt's not....my type" I whispered, not sure I even believed myself from the way the words tumbled out. Matt was attractive, anyone could see that. It wasn't new news. I just hadn't thought about it. I just wanted to snap back at Chris.

Chris looked over at me and raised his eyebrows.

"So Jake Andrews is then?" He scoffed like the name was poison on his tounge. I swallowed and shrugged.

"Chris, I don't know. I'm just saying Matt--I don't know" I said shaking my head, running my hands through my hair. “Not” I finished.

"Oh yeah? Why do you insist on hanging out with him constantly then? You pity him or something? He doesn't need that" He shook his head. I shook my head and looked down.

"You're......impossible" I whispered. Chris sighed.

"Look, I'm sorry i'm protective. You just don't know what he's been through. You'd be protective too" He stated. I pursed my lips and nodded. He's right, I didn't know.

"So the other day. What happened?" I asked softly, just wanting to change the conversation. Chris's face turned confused before clarity hit him.

"Oh, yeah" He breathed sitting up. "It's probably because Cassie was here" He explained. My eyebrows furrowed and I snapped my head to him.

"Cassie?"

The backdoor slid open. We both turned and saw Matt looking down at us. We both stood up. He looked between us and I gave a soft smile at him, relief that he was saving me from this conversation. Chris looked over at me before moving past his brother and away from me.

I sighed and looked at Matt. He just stared at me.

"Ready?" I asked smiling. Matt just backed up so I could walk back into the house. I looked over at Nick who smiled up up at me softly. I smiled back. I felt the need to apologize to him. Even though he wasn't as forward as Chris, I knew I probably scared him too.

Matt grabbed my wrist before I could say anything to Nick and we walked towards his room away from his brothers.

I just let Matt drag me until we were in front of his room. He placed his hands on my shoulders before stilling me. I just looked up at him.

He held up a finger before he walked into his room and closed the door in my face. I jumped back. I opened my mouth but then closed it before hearing him rustling around in his room. I furrowed my eyebrows.

Was he cleaning?

I chuckled before a few moments later the door opened and he smiled softly, letting me walk in. I chuckled and turned to him.

"You didn't have to clean Matt" I said as he closed the door. He shrugged and walked over to his desk to set down his bag before pulling out his sketch book.

I walked over to him.

"Are you ever gonna let me see a drawing?" I asked glancing from the book up to him. He looked down at me.

As he looked down at me I couldn't help but think about Chris's words.

"I look like Matt, I am your type"

I swallowed looking at his blue eyes hidden behind his glasses. Matt looked back down at the book before flipping open a page for me to see.

I looked down at the page, my breath caught in my throat.

I leaned down to look at the detail in the drawing.

"Matt" I gasped as i looked down.

It was a bookshelf, detail in every single book against the page. The lining of the covers, and the spine, each having their own look to them.

It looked like a picture.

But that's not what made the drawing extraordinary. Throughout the books there were little butterflies through thr air, each one unique to it’s wings. They were flying above and through the pages. It looked like a fairy tale.

This drawing had to have taken days.

"Matt" I said again, never wanting to tear my eyes away, my finger hovered over the page. Matt just watched me as I looked down a the page.

"i've read that book" I pointed to one of the books that caught my eye. I smiled as I stared. "I've read that one too" I pointed to another. My eyes scanned the drawing.

I've read all these books.

I looked up at Matt before he looked down at the page and then closed the book. I sat up as he pushed it away from us. I smiled as he looked away from me.

"You're talented, it’s—-beautiful" I breathed shaking my head. I had assumed his drawings were good from the amount of time he would be scribbing in that damn notebook, but damn.

I smiled softly. He let out a breath and gave a quick smile before he reached over grabbing a notepad and a pen.

I just watched him as he wrote. I smiled. This was the first time today he was gonna say something to me. I looked down at it after he wrote and he handed it to me.

I glanced over his writing.

You like Chris

I looked up at him before taking the pen out of his hands and writing back. He looked down at the paper.

eh, he talks too much

Matt looked up and smiled. A genuine smile. I chuckled and he shook his head setting down the notebook. I felt my stomach twist before shifting on my feet.

"Who's.....Cassie?" I asked hesitantly. His eyes snapped up to mine, his smile long gone. He blinked at me before closing his eyes. He looked down smacking his lips.

"You don't have to tell me" I spoke quickly, not wanting to push any buttons. "If you don't want to" I whispered wrapping my arms around myself. He looked at his feet. He shrugged.

I swallowed and nodded. "You don't have to tell me" I spoke again. He sighed and grabbed my arm before dragging me over to his bed. I sat down and looked up at him. He walked around the bed before grabbing a blanket and throwing it over me. Then he sat down.

He leaned over and handed me to the remote and pointed towards the tv across from his bed. I looked over at him before leaning back against his pillows and turning on the tv. He obviously didn't want to talk about whoever she was.

I guess I just had to stay curious, like I do with every other aspect of his life. I saw him glance over at me for a moment as I scrolled through his tv. He closed his eyes letting go of a breath before leaning his head back.

“I’m gonna go over to Jake’s around 6, is that okay? If I stay until then?” I whispered. He turned his head and looked at me and something sparked behind his eyes.

“I don’t really want to go home” I whispered. He looked down before he nodded. I smiled and leaned my head against his shoulder.

“I like being your friend Matt” I whispered as I clicked on a show. He glanced down at me before he brought his hand up to my arm. I looked down as his finger pressed against my skin and he wrote with his finger against my arm.

Me 2

#chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets

[lixzey]

sincerely, yours.

luke castellan x fem athena!reader

summary: in which Luke receives love letters from a secret admirer.

1.4k words

warnings, i guess?: pre tlt!!! reader has a huge ass crush on luke, reader is weird around luke (like any normal person around their crush), love letters, secret admirer, reader is kinda stalker-ish (maybe all athena kids are lol), reader is friends with silena and clarisse, camp golden boy luke!!! reader has GRAY EYES like every other child of Athena, as this is a key note in the story but i'll leave the hair color out for you guys 🫶🏻

ONE

“Handsome, you're a mansion with a view.”

“Hey, Luke?” Chris Rodriguez calls out to his older brother, brows knitted in confusion, as he walks towards the head of cabin eleven, who was helping their brothers—Travis and Connor—fix their armor for Capture the Flag in just a few more minutes. 

“Yeah?” Luke hums, his eyes not leaving the younger Stoll’s as he finishes the strap of Connor’s armor. “What is it?”

“Someone left this on your bed,” Chris answered, pulling out a tea-colored envelope from his pocket and giving it to the older boy. “It has your name on it.”

Luke pats Connor on the shoulder. “Trav, go and get shields and swords from the armory with Connor.” The eldest Stoll nodded, while the youngest opened his mouth to talk, but Luke got ahead of him. “No, Connor, you can’t have a flaming arrow. Now get over there!” He chuckles, playfully shoving the brothers away with a grin.

As soon as the two leave—Connor huffing about the flaming arrow—Luke turns to face Chris. “Who’s it from?” He asks, eyeing the envelope in Chris’ hand.

Chris shrugged. “I don’t know; it wasn't signed. It just had your name.”

“Huh,” Luke grabs the envelope from Chris’ hold, his eyes searching for any information. Instead, a pink heart wax stamp greeted him.

“You got another admirer?” Chris smirks, playfully nudging Luke. “Oh, to be you, huh? Girls here and there.”

Luke glares at Chris. “Shut up,”

“But that’s a first. A love letter. You think it’s from one of the Aphrodite kids?” Chris grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Explains the pink heart.”

“You talk too much, don’t you?” Luke groaned, shaking his head. “Go follow the Stolls; make sure they don’t burn the armory down. I’ll follow.”

Chris rolls his eyes, chuckling slightly. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you with your love letter.”

“Go,” Luke huffs, shoving his brother out the door.

“Geez, lover boy, stop pushing me!” Chris laughed as Luke pushed him again. “Okay, okay, I’ll go!” He chuckles, raising his hands up in surrender. “See you at the creek!”

Luke rolls his eyes, shaking his head as Chris runs off. He then turns his attention to the envelope in his hand, with his name written in perfect cursive in bright pink. If Luke wasn’t quick to jump to conclusions, he’d assume that an Aphrodite kid probably sent the letter. The pink ink was a dead give-away. But there was a small voice in the back of Luke’s mind saying otherwise.

The Hermes counselor sighs before making his way to his bed. Maybe there he could find anything else related to the mysterious admirer. Luke plopped down onto his bed, torn between ripping the envelope open or gently opening it in fear of tearing anything else that was inside.

With a shake of his head, Luke slowly opened the tea-stain envelope, the smell of old books and jasmine invading his nostrils as he gently pulled the paper out.

Dear Luke, 

I love you. 

Oh gods, where do I even begin to explain that?

Okay, so I have liked—no, loved—you since I was thirteen and you were fourteen. I know a lot of girls like you, even boys. I’m not even half of those who do. I’m just, well, me. A girl who you’d never give a second glance at. 

This is utterly stupid, honestly. Taking the risk to write this letter to you when you and I literally live in camp all year round. But, I guess, who cares? I mean, I’m already here writing this, so why back out now?

I remember the first time I saw you. Handsome, you’re a fucking mansion with a view. You were out in the arena, training with Marco Leon. It was the day after you and Annabeth arrived at camp. You were so good, deserving the title of ‘the best swordsman’ camp has seen in three hundred years. Your dark curls looked like a halo as you sparred with him, a mischievous look in your eyes as they shined like ambers underneath the golden rays of sunlight. From that day on, I knew I was in trouble. Everything about you captivates me—a secret no one knows. 

Every time you’re around, my heart beats too fucking fast, like a pegasus galloping in the wind. You make the butterflies in my stomach flutter like crazy, you make my palms get sweaty, and my words fail me, leaving me a stuttering mess when you’re near and you aren’t even talking to me. See what you do to me? I’ve never thought I would fall head over heels for someone so completely and so effortlessly.

You make the angels in heaven dance and sing hymns. Each time I look at you, wedding bells ring inside my head. You make me want more and more of you. I just can't think straight when you're in my head; even writing your name makes my cheeks turn red. You make me smile in so many ways, to the point that it isn’t even funny anymore. You are my favorite everything. I’ve been telling my friends that since I was fifteen. 

I get jealous when I see someone who gets close to you and flirts with you. I just can’t explain how annoyed—angry—I get when they try to get your attention when I have no right to be. There’s just something about you. I can’t pinpoint it, but it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.

Do you think if I wished on every dandelion in the world, you’d be mine? It would be a dream come true, of course. But in reality? You would never notice me. Like I said before, I’m just a girl you’d never take a second glance at. I’d forever be in the shadow of everyone else, hidden far away in the darkness.

You take my breath away, Luke Castellan. I don’t know how, but, fuck, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

sincerely,

yours

Luke stared at the letter for a few seconds, still trying to understand the words he had just read. He knew that girls liked him, but he never had someone send him a love letter, let alone a detailed one.

“Who are you?” Luke muttered, his eyes going back and forth through the letter, wondering who the girl was who’d written the letter. Something about her words made him want to find her, but the letter wasn’t signed. No name, no cabin, no anything. How was he going to find out who wrote the letter? 

“Luke, capture’s in five minutes!” Annabeth’s voice snapped Luke out of his thoughts. He quickly folded the letter, placing it back in the envelope, before shoving it under his mattress. He isn’t taking any chances, especially with the Stoll brothers, whom reminded Luke of him and Chris just a few years back.

Luke immediately ran out of cabin eleven, meeting Annabeth down at the steps.

“You still aren’t geared up,” Annabeth observed, brow raised. “I can’t afford another loss, Luke,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Got held up inside, you know, the Stolls.” Luke shrugged, hoping she wouldn't see through his lie. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. He did get held up with his younger brothers, well, except for that tiny exemption under his mattress.

Annabeth sighed. “Just go and get ready. The conch will sound in a few, and I still have to find Y/n and Malcolm.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Luke chuckled, saluting to his not-so-little sister. “We will win; don’t worry.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “You said that last year.”

“Gotta be positive, Annie Bunny,” Luke grinned, nudging the younger girl slightly.

“Stop calling me that,” Annabeth huffed, turning her heel to walk away.

“What? You loved bunnies!” Luke teased as she walked away.

“I was seven!” Annabeth groaned, walking faster, making Luke laugh.

“See you at the creek in four minutes!” Luke called after the daughter of Athena before turning to walk to the armory when someone collided face first into his chest.

“Woah, careful there,” Luke chuckled, catching that someone in his arms. A girl with the same gray eyes as Annabeth, a little more on the silver side, though still as intense.

“Uh, hi?”

“You okay, pretty girl?” Luke asks, smiling at her, his strong arms still wrapped around her waist for support.

“Uh, think so? Yes? I guess?” she rambled, her eyes not meeting his. 

Luke chuckles, helping the girl get back on her feet. “Careful next time, alright?”

“Uh, okay, bye!”

Luke laughed as the girl quickly scrambled away, her long hair bouncing behind her. “See you on the battlefield later, Y/n!”

tags: @lilmaymayy @mischiefmoons

#luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader fanfic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson #pjo #pjo series #pjo luke #annabeth chase #connor stoll #travis stoll #chris rodriguez #cabin eleven #athena!reader #cabin six #luke castellan x fem!athena reader #camp half blood #chb #fanfiction #pjo fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x yn

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, arranged engagement, violence, swearing, humiliation, bullying, chauvinism ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He had always felt that he lacked something. Part of him claimed that if a dragon had hatched from his egg, things would have been different, however, years later, he recognised that this was not entirely true.

Aegon had a gift for light-hearted conversation, an ironic humour that he lacked. He kept telling him to smile at last, to get his nose out of his books, that he was boring, perpetually serious and withdrawn. He preferred to spend time with Jace and Luke − they were louder and funnier than him, they understood him, they had dragons, they had what he was missing.

They didn't spare unpleasant comments even to their own sister, calling her a hamster, most likely referring to her rosy, firm cheeks and big eyes.

He could see that she was running away from them crying, but he wasn't going to comfort her. She was a girl, her world seemed to him as distant as Essos, completely incomprehensible to him, filled with beautiful gowns, embroidery and music.

The only thing they had in common was books.

They bumped into each other occasionally in the library, and although at first they simply pretended not to see one another, one day she dared to sit next to him as he looked through the family tree of their ancestors.

"What are you doing?" She asked, placing the large volume on the table in front of them with difficulty. He huffed as the dust that rose with her movement reached his nostrils, out of the corner of his eye he noticed that it was The Great History of Aegon the Conqueror.

He did not reply, turning the page of the book, not knowing why he should explain it to her.

He didn't believe her, didn't trust her, didn't want her.

She was a bastard, though she probably didn't know it herself, wallowing in riches like a princess even though she didn't deserve them.

He didn't want her pity, attention or anything else she could give him.

He didn't want to be her second choice, the place she ran to because her brothers were mean to her; he had his own, in his mind very adult, worries and he didn't want to listen to hers.

"Is this a book dedicated to our family history?" She asked softly, leaning out so that she could see what he was reading. She stood up coming closer to him and he pressed his lips together when he smelled her pleasant scent, some intense vanilla oil.

He felt a tightening and burbling in his stomach at the thought of the cake that smelled similar, which his mother had ordered to be baked for his Name Day a few months earlier.

"Ah, our family tree. Where are we?" She asked cheerfully, as if intrigued, and he sighed heavily, reluctantly flipping forward a few pages, tracing their line with his finger, showing her a place at the very end.

He swallowed loudly as he saw how Laenor Velaryon was written in the space where her father was inscribed, trying not to smile with mockery.

She leaned lower, looking at the area he had pointed at and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her cheek right next to his.

He was surprised at how different they were, apart from the obvious fact that he was a man and she was a woman.

His eyelashes were almost white and translucent and hers were black, long, surrounding her shining eyes, making them seem even bigger to him. His skin was pale, thin as parchment when hers was flushed and full of life, her lips plump and moist, her nose shapely and straight, the contour of her face gentle as his jaw was outlined sharply.

And finally, his hair, the colour of Targaryen's, the white she lacked, her luscious black curls falling gently down her back was visible proof of who her father was.

Although he liked to mock her in spirit, he couldn't say she was ugly or repulsive.

"Would you marry Helaena if our King so commanded?" She asked curiously, glancing sideways at his seated figure. He lifted his gaze to her and sighed heavily, figuring that nothing would happen if he spoke to her for a while.

She was simply bored, just like him, and he didn't get the impression that she had come to entertain herself at his expense.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes. I would do my duty as a Prince and son of the King." He said lowly, solemnly, fiddling between his fingers with the page of the book he had just looked at, crossing his legs − even though he was still a child, he was trying to sound and look like a man.

She cocked her head, clearly genuinely intrigued by his statement, a wide smile on her face.

"Are you in love with her?" She asked as if it was obvious, as if she was encouraging him to reveal his little secret to her. He looked at her in disbelief, not knowing what to make of her question. He swallowed loudly, lowering his gaze, feeling his heart pounding fast.

What did it matter?

"Well…she's my sister. Of course I love her." He replied coolly, feeling strange with the words on his tongue, as if there was something inappropriate about them.

"I love Jace too, but I'm not in love with him. There's a difference." She said with a kind of calmness and wisdom that surprised him; she stood beside him looking at him with a gentle expression on her face that consternated him.

Why were they even having this conversation?

Still, her words made him feel a tightness in his throat, a realisation that he understood what she meant, but didn't want to admit it.

The tenderness of falling in love, the poems and the late-night frolicking were the domain of women's imagination, which unfortunately then had to collide with the cruel reality. He was a man, however, and he had no intention of getting into these deep divagations of the weaker sex.

"Don't be naïve. Marriage is not meant to be a pleasure. It is meant to be a sacrifice for the good of the kingdom, to secure its needs." He said dryly, turning back to the page he had been reading earlier, frustrated for some reason by her remark.

She did not speak again, returning to her seat, sinking into reading the gigantic volume dedicated to Aegon the Conqueror.

Although he could have done it in his chamber, he had been coming to the library to read ever since and always met her in the same place. Although they didn't appoint themselves, they both had their assignments until midday and would turn up there to read immediately afterwards, sitting next to each other, exchanging thoughts in passing.

He was afraid that Aegon would see them one day, but fortunately he never ventured into the abyss of the library, few people went there and he felt reasonably safe.

Usually it was she who asked him questions and he was the one who answered her. He felt some sort of empowerment because of this, at last there was someone who appreciated his knowledge and rhetoric, who listened intently to his opinion.

"I would like to be like Rhaenys in the future." She said softly and he looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Rhaenys? What's interesting about her? Visenya could fight with a sword and she rode the largest dragon still alive in this world. If I had a choice, I would marry her." He said without thinking, recognising that it would be wonderful to have by his side a woman who could wield a sword perfectly, with a sharp tongue and temperament, who would be a born warrior like him.

He saw his niece raise an eyebrow in amusement, a sort of childlike joy on her face, her eyes shining.

"Aegon the Conqueror thought otherwise. Out of ten nights, nine he spent with Rhaenys." She said mockingly, as if immensely pleased that she could take the argument out of his hand. He pressed his lips together at her remark and shrugged his shoulders, returning to his reading.

He didn't care what men and women did at night − his mother had told him that he shouldn't bother with it for the time being, and he had decided that there was in fact no need to, until his father called on him one morning.

"− no −" He heard his mother's voice, leaning over the table where the tired King sat, looking at her as if half asleep. "− I do not agree, Viserys, it's not −"

She did not finish, hearing his footsteps and folded her arms in front of her, trying to calm herself, letting out a loud breath. His father nodded at him to come closer, which he did obediently, feeling his heart pounding hard.

His father had never yet called on him on any serious matter.

"I have just been discussing with your mother the importance of our family, of our kingdom remaining united. Although I have agreed that, according to tradition, your sister should marry your brother and not your nephew, I would like you to be the one to bring House Targaryen together anew, and that you should marry the daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor in the future." He said calmly, with each finished sentence tapping his fingers on the table top, as if to add some finality and certainty to his words that he was convinced this was the right thing to do.

"− this is ridiculous − Aemond should secure our kingdom with a marriage to the daughter of one of the lords who can benefit us −" His mother began impatiently, her husband sighed loudly, exhausted.

"And who should receive this honour? The Starks? The Arryns? The Baratheons? No choice would be good, for someone would always feel disadvantaged. Marriage within the family will not outrage anyone on the outside, and will only strengthen what has been strained." He said with conviction; the Queen swallowed hard, shaking her head, finally looking at him as if she was certain he abhorred the idea as much as she did.

"− Aemond, you don't have to agree −" She said in a trembling voice, and he swallowed hard, looking at the stone floor beneath his feet, feeling his heart pounding hard.

Bastard or not, the dragon's blood flowed in her, as it did in him. She didn't despise or mistreat him. She knew what duty and obligation meant.

He reasoned that although he would have preferred to have a female warrior by his side, in fact the idea of marrying her did not reject him. He preferred her to the daughter of some common lord.

In his own way, he even liked her.

He grunted, feeling proud to rise to the occasion and fulfil his father's desire.

"If it is my King's wish, I will marry her, for the sake of the kingdom and our family." He said lowly, looking him straight in the eyes, standing upright, his hands folded in front of him.

He felt a tightening in his throat as his father smiled at him sincerely, for the first and last time in his life.

"So it's decided."

He didn't know how the message had been conveyed to his betrothed, however he could see by the look on her face as she ran into the library, all red with emotion, that someone had made her aware of what had happened and he felt a twist in his stomach.

He was afraid she would make it clear to him that she didn't want him, that she abhorred him, that she had no intention of marrying a man who didn't have a dragon of his own.

As she approached him however her eyes sparkled, she laughed as if she didn't believe it.

"Is it true?" She asked breathing loudly and he swallowed hard, nodding his head, looking at her with wide eyes.

"I'm so happy." She giggled sweetly, warmly, covering her mouth with her hand, as if someone had just given her a wonderful surprise.

He felt some kind of heat in his chest, an affection towards her, a gratitude for her faithfulness, for her devotion, for the fact that she respected him.

He was shocked to think that she would make a good wife.

Aegon laughed at him, not understanding where his lack of objection came from, how he could think that good had happened.

"She doesn't even have an arse or tits." He sneered and he clenched his jaw, wrinkling his brow, looking at him over his shoulder.

"Shut your mouth. Don't speak about her this way." He growled, feeling that her good name was now his as well, and that he had to protect her.

Aegon snorted, shaking his head, patting him on the back piteously.

"My little brother fell in love with Lady Strong?" He asked, forcing himself into a sweet, mocking tone as if he were speaking to a small child, which angered him even more. He slammed his head against his forehead, and he swore in pain, staggering backwards, catching the table, which fell over with him.

"You fucking bastard!" He shouted throwing himself at him, and they began to pound each other with their fists, wrestling with each other on the floor, until, hearing the commotion, a servant girl rushed into his chamber, trying to separate them.

His future wife visited him in his chamber that day, concerned that he had not appeared in the library, raising her eyebrows in simultaneous concern and amusement as she saw him holding an ice cube to his red cheek, a large bruise under his eye.

"What's happened?" She asked as she was accustomed to, without any pleasantries, approaching him sitting in a chair that was, however, too big and his legs did not reach the ground. He just rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders without answering.

He had no intention of revealing what had caused the fight − he wasn't going to appear to her as a prince on a white horse who would worship and adore her, as in all those poems she had surely read.

"Does it hurt a lot?" She asked further, and he shook his head. She sighed heavily, taking a single lemon cake from the pocket of her bottom gown, placing it in front of him.

"I know the Queen only allows you to eat sweets after your weekly visit to the Great Sept, but I stole one for you anyway. As a consolation." She said proudly, and he nodded, lifting his gaze to her, involuntarily feeling grateful.

She cared for him without wanting anything in return.

Since they were betrothed, she hadn't asked him for solitary walks, gifts, confessions of love or anything else a lady of her status might desire from the man she was to marry.

"Thank you." He replied calmly, recognising that he could give her at least that much.

She looked around his chamber and he realised that she was in it for the first time in her life. He stood up, setting the ice sack down in the bowl, walking over to his bookshelf, a gift to him from his mother.

"If you wish, I can lend you some. Just pick which one." He said softly, coming to the conclusion that he wanted to be kind to her, that he wanted her to have no regrets about him becoming her husband, to be proud of it.

She looked at him gratefully and took out a book written by the ancient philosopher, Areon, dissecting human dignity and duty. Something about her choice pleased him, the thought that she wanted to understand him.

She pressed the book to her heart and looked at him, her eyes seemed even bigger to him than usual, her beautiful long eyelashes, hair and plump lips shone in the summer light of the day.

He felt a pleasant tickle in his lower abdomen watching her without saying a word.

"Can I kiss you?" She asked so quietly that for a moment he thought he had overheard himself; he felt his whole body tense up, his pupils dilate in disbelief, his breathing quicken, his fingers involuntarily rubbing against each other in a subconscious nervous reflex.

Oh gods.

Should they be doing this?

Was this the right thing to do?

She was supposed to be his wife. From what he understood, husbands and wives did this, as a kind of union and intimacy.

He swallowed loudly, looking at her lips, thinking they looked pleasantly warm and soft; a shiver went through him at the thought that he could feel them in a moment if he wanted to.

He nodded his head.

He watched her vigilantly, involuntarily breathing through his mouth as she stepped closer to him; he was taller than her and leaned in slightly, wanting to make her task easier.

She surprised him when she suddenly lifted up on her tiptoes and her lips pressed against his in a warm, innocent kiss − he felt like his heart had stopped for a moment, the scent of vanilla filled his lungs, her skin delightfully moist and soft.

It felt so pleasant.

She pulled away from him immediately, all red as he was, breathing hard, as if it took a lot of effort and courage from her too, her eyes looked at him dreamy, as if she was waiting for his reaction, but he was unable to get anything out.

"One more time." It came out of him like a weak whisper, like a plea through which he felt the shame overpowering him.

For the first time, someone wanted him.

She smiled before rising on her toes again, this time placing a hand on his shoulders for balance − she pressed her fleshy, moist lips to his for a longer time and sighed softly as he touched her cheek, wonderfully soft and warm. She pulled away from him and closed her eyes feeling him stroke her skin with his thumb, he pressed his forehead against hers, feeling butterflies in his stomach.

"Will you come to me at night?"

He had nightmares most of the time at night − usually dreams in which he saw anew the pig that his brother and nephews had introduced to him as his dragon, humiliating him as no one had ever done before. He found that her presence calmed him and that perhaps if she slept in the same bed, he would finally get some rest.

He didn't think about the fact that it might have been at least inappropriate in the eyes of others when under the cover of night she snuck into his chamber, slipping under the thick furs beside him, snuggling up to him. In his mind she was already his wife, and wives slept with their husbands − unless it was his parents.

They lay that night looking at each other with their foreheads pressed together, stroking each other's cheeks, their wordless, innocent confession of affection and need for closeness.

"We are going to have seven children." He stated after some thought, as if he had decided that such a number would satisfy him. He wanted his family to be strong and broad, and also seven were gods, so it had symbolic meaning as well.

She blinked, as if something troubled her in his words, furrowing her brow.

"My mother gets very tired during childbirth and then can't get up for a few days. With the rest, how do we do it?" She asked uncertainly and he shrugged his shoulders.

He had never delved into the ins and outs of the pleasures of the flesh too much − Aegon had said that rapprochements with women were very pleasurable and, as he understood, that was why he couldn't pull away from them, to him, however, what he had was enough.

"We'll find out everything when we're older. Do not fret." He said with certainty, stroking her soft, plump cheek with his thumb and she cheered up, he saw the sparkle in her gaze before her lips stole a soft, warm kiss from him again.

He smiled at the thought that he felt that in her eyes he was a man, the head of their future family.

There had been times when he had forgotten who she was, who her father was, her smile, her laugh, her eyes, the sweet kisses she bestowed on him when they were alone made him think it didn't matter anymore.

Years later, he could not believe how wrong he was.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #aemond kinslayer #prince aemond #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x strong #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #house of the dragon aemond #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond hotd #dark aemond #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond smut #dark aemond angst #aemond smut #aemond targaryen fanart #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell smut #hotd smut #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic

[lookingformoondrop]

+ Yandere Andy (for my previous request for suggestive themes with a fem reader and him :33)

Yandere!Andrew Graves x f!reader - Drabble thing

TW: TOXIC ANDY, Yandere themes, obsession, possession, manipulative Andy, suggestive themes, foul language, Andy can't keep his hands to himself, threats & intimidation, Andy calls Reader dumb bunny, not proofread.

♥︎Notes: I think out of all the yandere content ive ever written, this is the most toxic. Please readers, if your irl relationship mirrors any of this behavior, LEAVE THEM. Andy is extremely toxic, and if given the chancs hed lock up his bunny for only him to see. I dont condon any of this behavior, but i support Andrew's rights and wrongs. Hope this meets your expectations <3.♥︎

When dating Andy, there are certain types of rules you must follow.

They're silent rules, sure, never spoken outloud, but you've been with Andy long enough to know that if you break them... there are consequences.

♡

Rule No. 1 : Never dare speak to another man

You can still remember this rule vividly.

It was sometime in April, and you had practically begged Andy to drive you to the mall for new spring dresses.

When he finally agreed, you both drove to the mall and walked around for an hour, just window shopping all the sweet spring deals.

You found a lovely dress and went to try it on. Unfortunately, you realized the size was too small, so you asked Andy to browse the store for something bigger.

This is when the incident happened...

When you finally finished changing, you walked out of the clothing booth with a couple of other items and one adorable shirt that lacked a price.

You searched for a store employee and spotted a young man.

"Excuse me, but is there any way you can find the price of this shirt? I can't seem to find it," you handed the shirt to the employee, and his cheeks turned a dusted pink

"W- Well sure. I can just ask my co-worker to-"

"Fuck off."

You jumped at the cold voice beside you and noticed a very pissed off Andrew. His hand was suddenly on your hip, squeezing your flesh very aggressively.

"I- I'm sorry, sir, but I was talking to this young lady, not you," the young worker looked nervous.

But Andrew was having none of it, "fuck off before I forcibly make you." His eyes narrowed on the man, as he pushed you against his chest.

The employee retreated for the employee back door, his tail practically in between his legs, leaving you absolutely dumbfounded.

You pushed at Andy's chest, "Andrew what the fuck?! He wasn't doing anything wrong, he was literally just helping me find the price tag for some-"

"Do you like pissing me off? I disappeared for not even 5 minutes, and you're letting men drool over you? "

His grip on your hip got tighter, assuring that it would leave a mark for later.

At a loss of words, Andrew leaned in and whispered into your ear,

"You're making me sad, Y/N... Do you honestly want another man?"

His voice sent shivers down your spine, making that spot between your legs ache, and that chilling feel graze your skin with goosebumps.

"Andrew, I don't want anyone else! Please don't be sad, I'm sorry for misleading you," Your eyes got glossy from the guilt that weighed down on you.

He sighed, disappointed. He gripped your wrist, using the hand that was on your hip to rip the clothes you had out of your hand and onto a random display table.

"You're not a very good girlfriend. But I love you anyway."

He walked towards the exit, caressing your hand while he did.

You quickly leaned that Andrew was not going to tolerate any sort of social interaction with other men, and if you broke this rule, he'd be very, very disappointed in you. Simple as that.

♡

Rule No. 2 : Where you're going, what you're doing, who you're with, and why is all of Andy's business.

A year into your relationship, you decided to take a spontaneous girls trip with your friends to a different state.

You'd only be gone for a couple of days, and since Andrew was always busy working, you figured that he wouldn't mind.

Thinking this, you texted Andrew.

Andy

I'm sorry I haven't texted you. How was your day? **

You

It was good! I'm actually packing right now for a trip. **

Andy

.... **

Andy

What trip? **

You

A girls' trip. I figured since you're busy all the time, I could take this weekend to vacation! **

Andy

.... Where will you be going? **

You

My friends cabin**

Andy

Who will you be going with?**

You

My friends? **

Andy

Whose Cabin? Which friends? Whats their number? How can I contact them? How many nights are you staying? What's the wi-fi situation like? How far away, is it? What's the exact location? Who knows about this trip? When will you be coming back? Will there be any men there? Is it just girls? Will you be changing in front of them? Will you be sleeping separately? Whose car are you taking? How will you get there? By what transportation? Do your friends have boyfriends? Are there any wild animals?**

You

I... Andrew, how could I answer all these questions? I dont... I dont know.**

Andy

Then you shouldn't be going. **

Andy

It's in a location I've never been to nor seen before. So many things can happen to you, my dummy bunny. It may be a cabin, but I know you can't handle being alone for so long. Save me the trouble, Y/N, you're not going. **

Andy

I'm only looking out for you. You're the love of my life. How could i possibly live with myself if something happened to you? Y/N, you're the air that I breathe, the food i consume, the blood i need to pump my heart. Are you trying to run away from me? **

You

No! Andy I swear I'm not! I won't go if it makes you uncomfortable. I just thought... **

Andy

You don't think many things through, dummy. You're such a headache sometimes. **

Andy

So, what's for dinner? I'm hungry. *

♡

Rule No. 3 : You belong to Andy, and only Andy.

"Hey Andy! Guess what I found?!" You walked up to Andy who was lounging on the coach watching some shitty news.

"What's that, Y/N?" He lazily turned his head towards you.

In your hand was an old photograph of you and an old prom date, taken long before you ever met Andrew.

You were cleaning your bedroom and found a couple of old boxes underneath your bed. Once of which, held many old memories of your youth.

"It's all the prom pictures my mom took of me! Don't I look cute?" You leaned your upper body over the coach back and showed Andy the dusty photos.

You expected a snort, a grin, maybe some mockery for your cheesy dress but instead Andrew tensed up his jaw, his eyes narrowing.

He grabbed the photos from your hand and slowly looked through them.

"You are very pretty, Y/N...." his hand squeezed the photos, to the point of crinkling them.

"Andrew, the photos are being!-"

Suddenly Andrew stood up and quickly crossed the distance between you two, letting the photos be dropped to the floor.

You gasped as Andrew smashed his lips against yours.

He grabbed onto your face, pressing his body into yours.

His lips were warm and slightly chapped, the brief smell of mint and cigarettes overpowering your head.

He broke the kiss, a strange hunger dancing in his eyes as he looked at you.

"You're so beautiful... You're so beautiful being mine, and mine alone. Mine, mine, mine, and mine, until the world comes crashing and burning. " He grinned at you, a dark shadow crossing his face.

"Andrew! I- I know im yours, but the photos are being stepped on-" You tried protesting, but instead, you felt Andrew kiss you again, this time going deeper. His hand squeezed your cheeks, attempting to make your jaw open, in a way asking for entrance.

You couldn't help but open your mouth wider, a victim to the rose colored glasses he always placed on you.

Your eyes closed, while Andrews' opened.

He stared at you with a strange intensity.

You, of course, could never hear his thoughts, but if his words were spoken outloud he would scream how much he wanted to rip that prom date to shreds.

Watch him bleed out of your hardwood floors until it stained from that fuckers punishment.

You belonged to HIM.

You were HIS.

And darling, he would go to heaven and drag you back to hell with him if he had to.

He broke the kiss and squeezed you into a hug,

"Promise you wont ever leave me, okay?" Andrew rested his head on your shoulder. You breathed heavily, wiping the saliva from your chin.

You nodded in a daze, the ache between your legs overpowering any kind of hesitancy you had.

Andrew smiled into your neck, reaching his hands under your ass to prop you up around his waist.

"Come on... I want to continue this in the bedroom. I want to see more of you..." He said in just above a whisper.

"Only you..."

Thank you for the ask (and patience)!<3

#the coffin of andy and leyley #x reader #andrew graves #andy graves #y/n #andrew graves x reader #andy graves x reader #oneshots #obsession #yandere andrew graves #toxic love #toxic relationship #possesive love #andy and leyley #andrew is not a very healthy boyfriend #not proofread #need a proofreader lmao #drabble

[qierxing]

A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. This is one of the longest fics I’ve written…..carried by my love for Heartslabyul. Been chipping away at this every so often until now. I would strongly recommend reading Shiny’s part first, or else a good part of this will not make sense. Part two will be something that will be floating in the future.

TW/CW: Graphic descriptions of PTSD & panic attack symptoms, self-harm from bad coping habits, dissociation, dismemberment, references to Alice in Wonderland, made up lore LOL

I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

"So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality…"

– Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

i. Cremation

Ramshackle's mailbox is a pitiful thing.

It sits right in front of the small graveyard near forgotten covered in tangled vines and weeds. Unlike its surroundings which shine from recent renovations and repairs, the hinges still squeak loudly when the latch is opened and the outer parts are scratched and dented. On bright sunny days, it sticks out like a sore thumb.

And today, it's even more obvious.

The box now is in danger of tilting off its support pole, filled with the weight of lumpy letters, spilling out envelopes upon the dirt. Around it sits various colorful wrapped boxes and packages that are piled haphazardly across each other. You swear it gets larger each passing day.

“How many does this make?” 

A battered top hat pops into existence next to you, one of the resident Ramshackle ghosts who's been helping you around lately. (He had said you remind him of his siblings when he was alive. You're still unsure whether that was a good or bad thing.)

You let out a sigh through your nose. There's nothing to say about the situation in front of you. You wish they could disappear the minute you wish for it, yet the colorful wrappings and the various envelopes scattered around your feet don’t vanish the more you stare. 

“I’m really sorry about all this.” 

The ghost shakes his head, frowning at your apology.

“It’s not your fault, prefect.” 

The words are reassuring, but they don’t make the gross feeling go away when you crouch down and start picking up letters that have fallen out of the mailbox. 

From: Azul Ashengrotto 

Sender: Vil Schoenheit

Sent by: Riddle Rosehearts

All of them are addressed to you, of course. You can already imagine their contents: filled to the brim with regret and guilt, blotted words begging for forgiveness for the wrongs they’ve done. When you told the Headmaster that you didn’t want anyone visiting Ramshackle, that wasn’t an invitation for them to flood you with unwanted mail. Then again, perhaps you should have foreseen that they would do this. All of them are stubborn to a fault. It wasn't like your phone was any better until you’ve blocked all numbers making it go off endlessly like a shrieking parrot.

The resulting letters alone are thick enough to rival the textbooks Professor Trein assigns students. Pressing your lips together, you turn around to start heading back to your temporary home.The rest of the bulky packages can wait. The ghost helps swing the door open and Grim perks up from his seat in the living room as you set down the letters.

“Grim, can you get a fire going?”

“Now?”

He eyes the thick pile of letters with wary slit pupils and asks, “Aren’t ya…gonna read ‘em?”

You did. For the first few ones, at least. They were barely discernible, their apologies blurring by as they begged for your grace and mercy. That they would do anything to right their wrongs. If you didn’t know any better, you would say their reverence was akin to a cult. 

It makes your skin crawl.

After that, you stopped bothering to even  skim through. What is the point of continuing to make sense of lunatics? Of cruel games and intrepid players?

"We have the wood, and the house is a bit chilly, so why not?" You reply. Grim scrunches his eyebrows but doesn't object as heavy wooden logs are dumped into the grate. He takes a deep breath and blows upon the letters scattered on the wood, encasing everything in familiar neon blue flames.

You settle into the armchair next to Grim, staring into flickering blue flames. Grim curls up next to you, purring contentedly. All too easily, your eyes lull close to the sound of crackling flames consuming paper.

–

When you step out onto the front porch the next morning, you're overtaken by an overwhelming fragrance.

There's crimson red petals floating through the air. Fluttering in the crisp morning wind, they fall in your hair and the rest end up crushed under your feet. You'd feel bad if it wasn't so pungent; the very air feels like it's infused with the scent of roses. 

Your nose crinkles as you pick up the impossibly huge bouquet that is wrapped in silk and ribbons. It's certainly beautiful, you'll give it that. Yet this scent doesn't bring back good memories. It only brings vivid flashbacks of being lost among rose bushes, covered in dirt and scratches, trying so frantically to find a way out. When every single crack and snap was a possible life threat. 

You don't realize you're crushing the bouquet until something trickles down your fingers. It doesn't feel like blood pooling between your skin. Relaxing your grip ever so slightly, you find pin sharp thorns running down the stems where you were gripping. The fleshy meat of your palm is punctured cleanly in the shapes of the thorns. Was it left unclipped on purpose?

The card is the next thing you find with bloodied fingers, rumpling white cardstock and soiling it without a care.

To our beloved player,

We deeply apologize for the pain we have caused you and beg for your forgiveness. We will make sure to atone for our sins of harming you.

~H

The initial and the bouquet is too obvious of who it's from. Riddle must've penned it, because none of the card soldiers would ever write this formally. But it must've been Cater's idea to send the bouquet–Trey nor Riddle would've come up with such a sentimental and sappy idea. And Ace and Deuce would rather die than do such a cringey thing. 

The door opens again behind you. You turn to see a half-awake Grim groggily yawning. He stops once his blue eyes land on the bouquet in your hands.

"Whazz that?" He points a paw at the rumpled roses, and you hastily shove them behind your back. 

"Nothing." You say.

Grim makes a face before finally breaking the awkward silence with, "Do ya want me to go tell 'em off–"

"No." 

The answer is rushed and makes Grim's eyes widen. It's crazy, you know. But to have Grim try to solve the problem for you doesn't sit well with you. It's not like it's his fault for what you went through.

And maybe, deep down, you couldn't bear the thought of telling them nasty insults and curses to make them hate you more.

"I'll take care of it." You add, trying to reassure Grim, who only stares impassively. He shakes his head.

"Am I making another fire?"

"...if you can, please."

ii. The Morgue

It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been brought to Twisted Wonderland. 

Yuu’s…body has been moved to another room. It freaks you out more than you would like to admit. It’s familiar, yet it’s not. It’s carved to your image, but with none of your personality. There’s something wrong with the way its eyes are tilted, the dip of its cheeks, the curve of the chin. An idealistic, dreamy mirror of yourself.

Still. You’ve seen many dolls in your lifetime, and even you cannot deny the life like artisanship. The seams of the joints are cleverly hidden and the skin is smooth and unfettered without any misshapen resin(or clay?)–these are marks of a true doll-maker.

“It’s your vessel.” Grim had said with a matter of fact tone. As if you weren't looking at an unmoving human body. “Everyone was freakin’ out cuz’ it just shut down outta nowhere.”

It must’ve been because you were brought here at that moment. The hypothesis doesn’t really make you feel any better. You should know better than to blame an inanimate shell of a vessel, but... 

You jerk awake, cold sweat running down your neck and face. It takes a second for you to realize you're not being encased in burning scarlet flames and it's not claustrophobic verdant green hedges surrounding you. The bed sheets are tangled, wrapped in a chokehold around your legs and torso. Instead of translucent leaves, the bed canopy curtain shields you from the moonlight pouring in. The soft snores of Grim sync with your ragged breaths in time.

Tonight's nightmare had been recurring for a while. Every single time you thought you had shaken it off, it comes back like a bad omen.

Instinctively, your hand runs over the bumpy raise of scars running down your back and neck. Most of them had faded with magical treatment and time, but there are some that still have rough skin that has hardened like scales on a dragon. 

Your fingertips curve inward and dig. 

You thought you were safe. The rose maze is large and encompassing: hiding would be the best move. You breath in–

– and you were face to face with the Crimson Tyrant himself.

His face contains no humanity, his eyes only reflect dark, dark anger and resentment. You thought you were staring into a never ending abyss. Something inky black catches your eye, and you realize with horror that blot is trapping your feet and leaving stains upon your skin.

"Stop right there, imposter!"

Your nails scrabble at the bumps and raises, tearing through them with obsessive speed. Faster, faster–it doesn't feel right, you have to scrub your skin clean of those foreign textures.

Adrenaline is the only thing keeping your legs from collapsing to the blot climbing its way up. You have to do something–

–something wraps around your neck and torso, and all air leaves you as it squeezes and knife sharp needles gnaw into bone.

Your breathing grows more hoarse as your nails scratch faster and faster, desperate to remove more of those vile clumps of impurities. 

"You will suffer as Yuu did." The verdict is declared with deranged gleeful vengeance. The tyrant points his scepter at your fallen body covered in thorny vines reminiscent of roses. Blot swallows your form and screams whole–

It's only when the familiar smell of iron registers in your mind, that you finally snap back to your senses. When you finally draw your hand back to view, it's covered in clotted blood and torn skin, both dead and fresh, all clogged under your nails. The open cold air now makes your neck and back sting sharply as blood trickles out of reopened wounds.

It's with a heavy heart that you quietly leave the bedroom entirely to wash away the blood in the kitchen sink. Crimson dyes the white ceramic for a brief moment before swirling away down the drain. 

The wounds sting and ache, but you can barely be bothered to tend to them as you resign yourself to the living room couch with a thin blanket. You think of Grim sleeping unaware upstairs and close your eyes. The old weathered grandfather clock in the corner ticks on and on with each second.

No, you can't blame a puppet for functioning for its purpose.

But you could tear its limbs out of its sockets so it could never walk anywhere again. If you plucked out its fingers and eyes, it wouldn't be able to find its way around anymore. Sewing the mouth shut would seal the deal.

Then it would truly know how it felt to have no choice.

–

Working as Sam's assistant helps take the mind off things. Crowley had begged you to resume classes as Grim's 'beast tamer', but something in you screamed at the thought of having to shed your feelings aside to return to what normalcy was. As if this world didn't run on the giant malicious cogwheels of fate and lines of code.

How painfully obvious it is that your mere presence is just a substitute. 

"Ah!" 

You look up from sorting products on the shelves to a surprised looking Riddle Rosehearts. No no no no–

You take in his sunken gray eyes and pale skin, before going back to shelving products. It takes strength to play dumb. Your shaking hands betray the fear growing within as they sort through stationary merchandise. Finally, the products are lined up neatly and you're trying to bustle away as quickly as you can–

"W-wait!" You try to ignore the half whispered plea, moving behind the counter with an unnatural speed. 

"Please, wait, I need something!" You do stop, because unfortunately, you can't completely ignore a customer in need. So you take a deep breath and grit your teeth, turning around with a polite smile. Stare straight ahead. Think not of smoldering flames and knife like rose thorns–

"What can I help you with?" He stares into your eyes, frantic and desperate. It's clear with the way his mouth opens and closes that he wasn't sure how to continue his case.

"If you aren't sure, take your time to browse, dear customer." The grin was starting to wear on your cheeks already with how much you struggle to keep it in place. 

Please just leave, you internally beg. You settle behind the counter, watching as Riddle bows his head and disappears among the shelves for his items. A tired sigh leaves your nose. 

Your hands keep shaking no matter how hard you clench and unclench them. 

He can't hurt me here. 

Sam is just a yell away and there's mace and a knife in your bag underneath the counter. 

It'll be fine. It's not the Tyrant.

A clink of glass catches your attention, as some ink bottles are pushed on the counter. 

"I've finished." Riddle's smoldering eyes choke you under their hues.

"I'll ring that up, then." 

The exchange happens quietly yet as you hand him the bottles, he pauses, looking down. "What happened to your hand?" 

Shit. There were still obvious swollen scratches and puncture holes imprinted on your hand. You completely forgot about bandages after Grim caught you with the bouquet the other day. You quickly hide your hand in your pocket. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He seems to want to say more, but is cut off when someone else comes up behind him, waiting to pay for their items. He only swallows hard and nods, setting out with only a guilty look back.

You finally breathe out a long sigh of relief when the door chimes echo behind him.

-

"That'll be ten thaumarks and thirty madols." 

This is the fifth time Riddle's shown up during your shift and bought ink. This time, it's a deep crimson color not unlike the shade that saturates his dorm. It reminds you of torn skin on nails from that night, and it takes a minute to shake those thoughts off as you pick up the bottles.

"Prefect, could I talk to you after your shift ends?" You turn to fix him with an incredulous stare, and he grimaces.

"I promise I won't harm you! Did you not get our letters?" But how can I trust you? On this cracked chessboard you are forced to play upon, you don't know where to place Riddle at all. He is too much of an unstable bomb that could blow up in your face at the wrong impression.

"Fine." He definitely won't back down until you agree to hear him out, and it's best to let him state his case once and for all. "My shift ends in an hour. I'll meet you outside."

"Excellent. I shall wait for you then, prefect." He takes his bag and leaves with a small bow.

The time passes all too quickly. Sam shoos you out before you can try to coax some overtime hours from him. And much to your annoyance, Riddle is waiting for you promptly as you step outside.

He looks nervous as he bows his head in acknowledgement of your presence. You'd almost feel bad, if it weren't for the fact that he nearly beheaded you at first sight.

"Have you received our recent letter and flowers?" A long silence follows, before you reluctantly nod. Your hand throbs as you open and close it out of habit. You just removed the bandages this morning, but the unbearable itch to reopen the scars is too tempting. Steel eyes are immediately drawn to the movement. "I see. Then I won't drag this out. Prefect, could we prove to you our sincerity to make amends?"

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I said. Please let our dorm express to you our sincerity to mend our relationship." The intensity of his eyes makes you sick to your stomach.

"You've apologized enough, Housewarden Rosehearts. I'm sure your card soldiers have too." Subconsciously, your hand drifts toward your neck.

He winces. No doubt it must be a sting to his pride that his numerous penned letters weren't acknowledged. "It's not just about apologies. We want to start over–turn over a new leaf, if you will, for our relationship. It would be a disgrace to the Queen of Hearts herself if I could not atone for what I've done."

Always with the rules. You're not entirely sure what Riddle means when he says 'mending your relationship', but it seems he's already set his mind to it. It would be hard pressing to get him to change his mind now.

"...sure." You reluctantly acquiesce. The tips of your nails brush against scarred skin before drawing back. You shouldn't. It took so long for the wounds to close again, for sinew to piece itself together, and for skin to finally grow back. You don't want another lecture by Crewel or Trein.

He brightens considerably with a look of relief. "Good. Then, please wait for our call." 

You watch in confusion as he trots off hurriedly after another deep bow. Wait for our call? What does that–

Something buzzes, and you realize it's your phone, lighting up with a notification from Magicam. You frown, tapping on the icon. A message? 

cay4cay sent a message request

The second you processed the username and profile picture, you instantly hit the block button. With a frustrated scowl, you shove the phone into your pocket. You deleted Yuu's account and only had a burner account for info purposes. How the hell did that social butterfly find your handle?

You groan. This is all too much.

iii. Paying Respects

A letter arrives, but not by mail.

A jarring commotion rudely rips you from sleep's embrace. You groggily sit up, blinking once, twice, before realizing the noises were very much real and still happening. Who is this loud on a Sunday morning? Grim continues to snooze right next to you, unperturbed by the disturbances. You debate whether it's worth it to get out of the comfy covers. Then another yell echoes up to the room and you groan in annoyance. 

You slam the entrance doors open, ready to give the lecture of a lifetime before you stop in your tracks. 

Deuce Spade looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up whole. Even Ace Trappola, haughty asshole that he is, looks thoroughly ashamed to be caught in a compromising pose. The scene is so familiar that you can't seem to be confused. It takes a second of awkward staring from all three of you before you realize that you're still standing in your thin pajamas, out front in the public entryway in the cold.

"...May I help you?" The distant polite inquiry has them both flinching. They scramble to their feet, brushing off dirt and debris from their fist fight. 

"We're very sorry!" Deuce bows deeply, while Ace scoffs and looks away.

"Housewarden Riddle told us to give you this, so…" Ace shoves a white envelope with a seal boasting a crown insignia into your hands. The Queen of Hearts. You exhale through your nose. So this is what Riddle meant earlier.

You open the envelope gingerly, carefully inspecting it as if it were some kind of trap.

"We're going to have a party soon." Ace is still determinedly avoiding your eyes. "You can come…if you want."

You hold back a sardonic chuckle. Even after everything that's happened, he's trying to act like some kind of cool, suave guy. Your eyes drop down again and you open up the flap to reveal the elegant crimson cursive that decorates the paper.

You're cordially invited to Heartslabyul's monthly tea party. Please send your response ASAP.

Date: XX/05

Time: 14:00 - 17:00

A silence lingers in the air, heavy as a rock. You can tell without looking that the two were holding bated breaths waiting for your reply.

This certainly was out of the blue. But. It was Ace and Deuce. Riddle may have issued the order, but they must've taken initiative in delivering her majesty's decree. Stubborn and tenacious, yet they were still endearing with their loyal friendship. Who in this world would run across a whole desert for you?

That wasn't for you though. The intrusive thought immediately makes your lips thin. The card soldiers shift at the subtle expression change, nervousness painted all over their faces.

You would be lying if you said you weren't curious. Why an invitation to a tea party? It was rather unlike Heartslabyul–or at least most of them–to be indirect like this.

"Sure. I'll be there. I can bring Grim, right?" You flip over the card and envelope, raising an eyebrow at their stunned faces.

"Wait, you serious?" Ace stutters. His ruby eyes blink rapidly as his mouth gapes open. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting you to actually say yes.

"Why would I waste my time lying to you?" You sigh, crossing your arms. Granted, you never did send any response back to that ostentatious bouquet, but you were already preoccupied with the hundred of other letters and packages flooding your mailbox. 

"In that case, of course Grim can come!" Deuce says, looking like he's been released from an entire burden off his chest. It was no doubt plaguing him on what your answer would be.

"Great." You wave a careless hand, turning to close the door. You're so ready to go back under soft bed covers. "You can give my answer to your housewarden. See you then."

A hand grabs at your arm and tugs you back suddenly. You turn and open your mouth–

"You! You're the one that caused Yuu to shut down!!"

Wind blasts past you, leaving a thin trickle of blood down your cheek. Eyes wide, all you can do is stare at furious crimson eyes glaring you down.

"-Hey!" 

Those eyes. It's the same bloody crimson. The same sharp glint of raw bloodlust. Your right cheek aches terribly. Cold sweat runs down your back. Try as you might, you cannot suppress the reactive instinct to flee.

"Don't touch me." Your terse response has Ace retracting his own hand immediately. 

"S-sorry, sorry–" He’s scrambling to get past his mistake. If you were in a better state of mind, you would've laughed at his genuinely flustered state. "I–I didn't mean to grab you like that, it’s just that–"

"We also have something else.” Deuce cuts in, trying to cover for Ace’s blunder. He shoves something warm under your nose, and it takes a hot minute to process what you’re smelling. 

Lavender. The cookies within his hands are simple and aren’t decorated, but the buttery floral aroma they emit leaves you salivating. You slowly take it from his hands, staring at the carefully packaged bag. 

“...From Trey,” Deuce offers hesitantly after seeing your surprised expression. His tight expression and stiff posture betrays the way he is attempting to look respectable. “He's wanted to send you something for a while now.”

For a while? His dorm mates were all clambering to get any crumb of response from you. He might've had the manners then to understand that you wouldn't be delighted to hear from someone who only watched from the sidelines as you were being attacked. Did he only wait because his beloved housewarden didn't move yet? How typical.

“Tell him thanks for me.” The two of them shuffle their feet while exchanging glances at your freezing cold tone. 

"Don't mind us, prefect." Deuce elbows Ace, causing the red head to click his tongue and glare back. "Sorry for bothering you like this–we'll get going now!"

The two actually leave without more fuss, leaving you to twirl the invitation in trepidation.

When you look down again, the flowy calligraphy has been smudged by your fingers, ink blooming on your skin like blood.

–

"What does one wear to a tea party, Sam?" 

The question slips out before you know it, making the store keeper turn around and raise an eyebrow at you.

"And why is our little imp curious?" He teases. At your unamused face, his face splits into a garish grin.

"Perhaps you should ask Professor Crewel. After all, he does have quite the fashion sense." Sam strokes his chin in thought. "While we do have some outfits here, it might be best to get advice from someone who has been to these kinds of events."

And so, you find yourself standing in front of an indifferent Divus Crewel, who takes one look at you and takes another drag from his fashionable cigarette holder. He continues to shuffle through papers, all the while shaking his head.

“I should’ve known Sam would be the one to send you.” His voice sounds annoyed, yet carries no weight of anger. Much like how his bark is worse than his bite, Crewel isn’t one to heartlessly turn you away. “A tea party, you said?”

“Sam recommended that I go to you since you have more experience in this sort of thing.” Crewel does another critical once over of you, no doubt estimating your measurements for the look he’s thinking of. As expected of a former Pomefiore housewarden. He seems to already have an idea of what outfit would be best.

“I’ll help you, but you’re running some errands for me first, pup.” 

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the alchemy professor. Now you’re stuck picking out ingredients in the botanical garden while you’re waiting for him to get the materials together for your outfit. 

Of all the botanical zones, it just had to be the tropical zone. The harsh artificial lights shine down as you lean down to pick herbs. While the temperature is bearable, you don't know how much more sweat your outfit can take before it gets soaked completely. The humidity is choking, and you feel dizzy from both the moisture and heat clouding your senses.

“Prefect?” 

You look up wearily from basil plants to see Cater Diamond in his labwear, with a face that mirrors your stunned expression.

Give me a break. Immediately, your awkward customer service smile falls in place. First her Majesty, then Tweedle Dee and Dum, and now the March Hare? But Cater knows how to read the room. Maybe he'll know to let it go–

Your hopes are dashed as he immediately bounces up to you with a grin. “Didn't think I'd run into ya like this. Whatcha doing here?”

“Er, Crewel wanted my help with getting him ingredients…” This conversation was quickly swerving into awkward territory. “Why are you here?”

“Ah, you know…” Cater chuckles sheepishly, “I got assigned to water the plants…”

You take notice of the steel watering can in his gloved hands, then the long green hose by his boots. “Ah.” 

“Guess that means we’ll be working together!” He chirps cheerfully and you cringe. Seven, anything but that! You quickly turn back to your basket and begin to pick up the pace in harvesting the basil. The quicker you finish, the faster you can get out of this deathly awkward situation.

“By the way, Acey and Deucey wouldn’t stop chatting about you accepting our invitation!” You flinch as Cater idles up next to you, using the hose to spray a generous amount of water over the patch of herbs. “It was pretty cute to see, y’know.”

“R-really?”

"Trey was also glad too. He and Riddle have been planning to make it the best tea party ever," he mock emphasizes. "They've been running the dorm ragged over the party deets. Cay Cay's been so busy with planning stuff!"

"That's not really necessary…" A feeling of guilt worms into your guts for a moment. You squash it. What Riddle and the others do is none of your business and no obligation of yours. 

"Right? That's what I said too!" Is he implying that you're the reason there's more work than usual? How shameless is he?

After a good minute of dead silence, Cater pipes up again.

"Sooo, prefect, whatcha been up to lately?"

You can't take it anymore. 

“Why are you talking like I have a gun to your head?” 

Ever since he made his presence known, he's adopted a high pitched cheery tone that grates on your ears. It was akin to a customer service voice, but you know Cater. That's his influencer speak.

Cater's chipper smile vanishes instantly.

"Whaaaat?!" You catch a glimpse of his snaggle tooth in his exclamation. He quickly turns and moves to water a patch of sprouts further away, "Like, what are you even talking about? You know ol' Cay Cay's just trying to lighten the mood!"

More like he's desperately trying to appeal to you. He knows which attitude will get him the most views, and the best expressions to rake in likes and comments. You often thought that trait was endearing in its own way when you saw him as a fictional character. Now that you're dealing with him as a human being, it just pisses you off to no end. How could he? You know Cater isn't known for his genuineness but….you thought he would at least act his usual aloof casual self. Then you would know that it wouldn't matter if you offended him.

The straw basket is finally filled with everything Crewel asked you for. It's with dirtied skin and sore muscles that you turn towards the exit without sparing Cater a glance.

"If you say so, Diamond." You hurl the words like a molotov cocktail, and it's very effective. Cater's eyebrows twitch and his hands clench around the watering can. It's one thing to call him by his last name, it's another to completely blow off the nickname he blatantly shoves onto you. "See you later at the party."

“Wait, wait, time out for a second!! Can you at least unblock me on Magicam?” The last sentence makes you freeze in your tracks.

When you turn around, Cater’s somehow still smiling that insincere smile of his. Your neck prickles with dread.

You trust me now, right? His crinkled lime green eyes gleam.

You're not fooled. He is desperate to appeal to you not from genuine adoration, but rather guilty obligation. Although he tried to scrub it from his Magicam profile, you saw the blurry reels and pictures of you fleeing for your life. The detailed descriptions underneath. Each one boasting deliberate timestamps meant for best exposure. He put a bounty on your head with his own hands.

Two can play at that game.

"Block you? I don't have a Magicam account," is your dry response. Cater continues to smile as his eyes close.

"Really? I swear that it was you…" His lips jut out in an insincere pout, tilting his head. You shrug apathetically, hoping the conversation runs itself dead.

"Well, if you do make one, hit me up okay?" Cater calls out after your retreating back.

Once you're in the school corridors and catching your breath, you dig your phone out with shaky hands and pull up Magicam.

Hitting delete account has never felt more relieving.

–

The outfit, in your quiet opinion, was not worth the mental gymnastics you had to do in the botanical garden. Not that you were going to say anything to the very teacher who has been known to treat his students like barking dogs.

"It should fit just fine," Crewel smooths out the crinkles in the fabric before handing it to you. "Go on now. Try it on."

A simple white with a red ribbon bow tie and black slacks. It was rather simple, which is just fine. You didn't need or want to stand out in this party. But you certainly didn't want to end up looking like a slob either. This suit your needs quite nicely.

Smoothing down your shirt, you give a spin as Crewel looks on unimpressed. He waves you off with a dry "Don't expect me to do any more favors for you, pup." You mischievously grin and wave him goodbye as you trot off with your clothes in tow.

The last rays of the sun sets the hallway ablaze with orange and yellow hues. You hum as you take the familiar pathway back to Ramshackle. With everything crazy that’s been going on lately, it gets too easy to be swept up in the moment. As you watch the shadows flicker between the stone pillars, you slow down to observe the scenery for a bit.

The sunset catches a glint and reflects bright white for a moment. You blink and it’s gone when you focus. You stop, confused at the intrusion. 

A loud click echoes behind you, but when you whip around, there’s nothing but the empty hallways.

You stand for a moment in place, waiting and listening apprehensively. Nothing else happens, and it’s with cautious paranoia that you turn around and start speed walking.

iiii. Funeral

It would be impolite to show up to a party without something.

But now as you're standing before the mirror leading to Heartslabyul, you're having second thoughts.

What if it isn't good? You glance down at your box containing the simple custard puddings you were able to make just last night. You didn't really have the skills to make complicated sweets and the puddings only took three ingredients. And your outfit, what if it isn't up to the Queen of Hearts' rules–

"C'mon, [First]! Or else the food will be gone by the time we get there!"

You breathe out a giggle. "I don't think anyone can beat you on your eating speed, Grim."

"You don't know that!" He hops up and down impatiently, waiting for you to adjust the box in your hands.

Right, who cares about any of that?

You follow your companion through the warped glass.

The fresh spring breeze graces you first, then the refreshing scent of flora, and finally, the warmth of the sun on your skin. When you open your eyes, the stretch of viridian green pastures and vibrant flowers greets you. The land of Heartslabyul is as picturesque as you remembered on screen. It feels unreal.

And waiting for you at the end of the path is the very first dorm you've befriended.

"Weird. Where's everyone at?" Grim grumbles, ears twitching in irritation.

The entrance is completely devoid of any human presence. You don’t sense anyone in the building either, which is completely strange. 

Grim's right. Where is everyone? For an incoming tea party, wouldn’t there be various students rushing in and out for the preparations?

“Perhaps they’re in the maze?” You glance warily over to the tall hedges that bloom with beautiful roses. “Should we wait?”

“Ugh, that’s so rude of ‘em to keep us hangin’ though! I say we go lookin’ for them. Who knows how long we gotta stand out here!” Grim shakes his head, distraught at the thought of having to wait for his food. "Let's go to the kitchen!"

"You just want to see if you can eat something." You tut at Grim's scheming face. 

"Mya, so what?!" He yowls. "I'm going and you can't stop me!"

"Grim, wait–" You call anxiously, but your companion is already scampering off into the dorm. You're left with no choice but to take a deep steadying breath and press on. 

But the kitchen room is also empty when the two of you pop in. However, it seems like it was used recently, if not for the smell, then the sight of various dishes laid out on the counter would have clued you in. You sneakily compare your puddings to the spread laid out before you and wonder again if it isn't too late to put them away in a dark corner.

"What do you have there, prefect?" A low voice breathes in your ear. 

You and Grim shriek in tandem, with you almost fumbling and dropping your box and Grim’s signature sharp nails digging into your shins.

The looming presence behind you is revealed to be Trey Clover, who has an apologetic face after spooking the two of you. At least he is conscientious. 

"My bad, my bad," he chuckles, "I should've been more obvious about my arrival." He places a steady hovering hand behind your back. Just barely touching, yet close enough to feel its heat. Embarrassingly, the feeling is soothing enough that you can't find it in yourself to pull away.

"Sheesh, for real! You took some of my life with that, y'know Trey!" Grim hisses, detaching his claws from your poor legs. Trey only laughs and ruffles his head.

"I’m sorry about that Grim. Anyway, you guys came just in time," Trey begins to transfer the dishes onto a wheeled cart. "Food just needs to be carried out and the tea party can begin—but you have something, don't you?"

Regret seeps in when you think of your sad puddings next to all these gorgeous pastries and appetizers. 

“Uhm, I don’t think it’s really needed since you got all this,” you laugh sheepishly as your hands automatically hide the box behind your back.

“No way.” Trey’s smile is warm but firm. When he gently guides your hands to give up the box, you can’t find it in yourself to protest. “It can’t be that bad, since you made it.”

You're struck silent, and Trey immediately takes advantage of your state to press his hand to your back to usher you forward. His fingertips graze your side, and for a second, you swear his lips quirk into a smirk.

You follow alongside Trey as he pushes the cart out through the door.

"By the way, I'm happy to hear you liked the lavender cookies." You look over to see the baker smile warmly. "I would've tried something with the candied violets I had, but I ran out just as I was making them." He sighs as he shakes his head.

Something with the way he's worded it makes it sound like there was more to the story, but you don't care enough to pry further. Trey's golden orbs slide to meet yours discreetly, and you realize he's waiting for you to respond. You murmur an apathetic response back, and he visibly droops.

It's a long, quiet walk through the rose maze.

It seems your arrival with Trey threw everyone off guard. You don't know why they look so alarmed: the venue looks absolutely resplendent. Colorful lanterns dot the tree lines, swinging back and forth cheerily with brightly colored flags. The long table is draped with fine cloth embroidered with intricate lace patterns. There's not a single wrinkle to be seen in the fabric. And the rose bushes, blooming with both red and white roses, are pruned cleanly, not a leaf or branch out of place.

It is a tea party fit for the Queen of Hearts.

"And the guest of honor is finally here!" Easygoing as ever, Cater calls out jauntily to you both. He seems to be the only one not visibly panicking. "Trey, what took ya so long?"

"Had to get the dishes here, you know." He shoots a knowing glare at Cater, who flinches with a sheepish smile. "Someone was supposed to help me, which would've made it a lot faster."

Ah. Cater giggles nervously while twirling his hair. Ace and Deuce exchange disbelieving looks before shaking their heads. 

“Welcome, prefect.” Riddle greets you with a stiff bow. "And Grim." He hastily adds, seeing your companion’s face twist sulkily. The action makes you smile, if only for a moment.

“We’ve been waiting forever for you, Yuu—” Deuce jabs an elbow sharply into Ace’s side, making him cough and sputter mid sentence, but the damage has already been done. Another awkward silence reigns as everyone’s fearful faces are directed at you, trying to figure out how to best traverse the conversational minefield. 

“W-What Acey meant to say is–” Cater is cut off immediately.

"Uh, er, come to think of it, what's your actual name?" Deuce is the one who pushes forward despite everyone else’s horrified looks. As if he had uttered a profane exclamation.

"My…name?" You echo back. 

Right. Since all they knew was the puppet, they didn't know your true name. Heavy silence hovers in the air, even Grim was looking at you in anticipation.

"My name is…" Something chokes your throat. Reluctance? Or fear? 

"[First]. [First] [Last]."

They mutter it among themselves, tasting the syllables and weaving the rhythms of the letters. How strange. With sugar coated lips, their voices ring like church bells for prayer. You're born anew, for the way they look at you is enough to make your heart soar for several fleeting seconds. 

For a brief moment, you could believe that you were with your Heartslabyul again.

The tea party begins like a baby animal: slow, unsure, and always in danger of stumbling to the ground. But it’s Heartslabyul, and who else would know how to best host a party for its guests?

By the time the tea is being poured into your cups, a steady conversation has started naturally flowing between all of you.

“Is there something the matter?” Riddle asks for the nth time as he worriedly gazes at the way your eyes stray to the hedges and whimsical decorations beyond the table.

"Oh uhm…” You hesitate, still not meeting Riddle’s worried face. “Why are the roses both red and white? I thought one of your rules is that tea parties always have white roses." 

Riddle exchanges a look with Trey at your question. 

"That is true, [First], however…" He pauses, before continuing with a determined look. "Red and white roses are customary for parties celebrating with new friends."

“New…friends?” Your hand is frozen at your teacup.

Something fiercely warm fills your chest. There's cautious hope glimmering in Riddle and Trey's eyes. That wasn’t fair. How could they say something like that and not expect you to react? 

The party ends on a light note unlike its stiff beginning. The soldiers gather to see you and Grim off, but once Grim scampers off with his leftovers in paw, her Majesty moves to your side.

“Prefect–no, [First], would you come again?” He asks. His hands are trembling, tugging at your sleeve timidly like a young child again. “F-For an Unbirthday party, of course!”

It’s a request that’s not selfish, you note. Her Majesty’s card soldiers look on expectantly behind their monarch, and it takes everything within you to not collapse. 

“Of course. I can’t wait for it already.”

Your heart weighs heavy. They do not know that the promise is an empty white lie. Though you cherish them, you do not wish to act the role of a doll whose purpose is to play house. 

When they looked at you with those pleading eyes, who did they see? 

Yuu, the puppet they adored for its safe default responses and supportive words?

Or you, the player who has their own flaws and biased personality?

It's okay, you reason.

They won't be able to tell the difference between clay and flesh.

v. Burial

You have a hunch about Yuu.

Only a guess based on many hypotheticals, but better than nothing.

If the puppet stopped working when you arrived, then shouldn't it go without saying that if you left this world, that it would return back to life?

The wooden door creaks open, stirring up dust and sending it flying into the air. You cough and sneeze, waving your hand to disperse the irritant. Serves you right. After all, you refused to step into this room since Yuu's body was hauled here. Didn't even dare to come clean the room. The dust settles and you can finally make out the puppet's silhouette from the waning light rays of the window.

It still adorns its proper NRC uniform, wrinkled in the spots where you had lifted it. It hasn't moved at all from its sprawled pose on the sofa. You remember the dread at realizing the only fitting school uniform you could possibly wear was on this puppet. It only cemented your resolve to break away from the puppet's image. Even if you had to resort to clearing out ancient closets and haggling with faculty, you'd rather take the raggedy shawls and worn flannel over the crisp blazer and button up the puppet wore. 

Its skin has become ashen gray, drained of any life. Old joints creaked in agony when you adjusted it to a sitting position for better examination. For a while, the both of you stare at each other.

Despair tugs at your mind. How long will you be trapped in this world? Has the Headmaster even done anything to help you get home? You snort. He couldn’t even bother doing anything when it was just the vessel. Why would that change now? 

Can you hear me?

The voice, so quiet yet clear, makes you whip your head around. No one's in the room. Are you finally going crazy?

You can hear me, right?

Is one of the ghosts playing a prank on you? You can't pinpoint the source of the voice at all.

I'm here–look!

With dread and fear pooling in your heart, your head turns slowly to meet the doll's eyes; whose pupils are now fixated on you.

The urge to scream and push away the doll is overwhelming. But in a world where the supernatural is natural, you suppose that dolls that can speak are the least impossible thing out there.

I can help you find your way home.

You swallow thickly. Pursing your lips, your grip on its arms tightens as you lean in. Something stirs, and it’s crazy, but you swear it hums in pleasure.

Listen to what I say carefully…

-

Decorations? Check. Refreshments? Check.

Outfits? Check.

So why does it feel like there's something missing?

"What's wrong, Riddle?" He turns to see Trey's concerned face. He gives an awkward smile back.

"I'm not quite sure, but something feels amiss." He explains, rubbing his neck. It's obvious enough to make him feel the familiar slivers of irritation slither through him. 

He tries to will it away. It's a good day, and there was nothing to be angry about. The player–no, [First]–had decided to give them a chance and agreed to come over to celebrate an Unbirthday party with them. Ace and Deuce are behaving as good, law-abiding card soldiers should be. The roses were saturated with dripping red, the dormouse had its nose smeared with jam–so what is this itch that won't go away?

"We can do a double check of everything again," Trey offers gently. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Riddle shakes his head. “It’s almost time for them to arrive. I will not have them waiting on something that isn’t even a problem.”

“Housewarden~!” Speak of the devil. He turns with a frown at Ace’s loud shout, but it fades to a small smile when he sees you trailing after Ace.

"Hello, Riddle." You smile warmly at him, and his cheeks flush pink.

Wait. He stops. Have you ever called his name? He doesn’t have time to ponder this before he’s interrupted by Trey and Cater bringing in the food.

When everyone is seated and the party is in swing, he notices something.

“Is the food not to your liking, [First]?” He inquires as politely as possible, softening his tone to make it sound less accusatory.

You fluster, waving a hand. “Not at all. I’m just not that hungry right now.”

He decides to leave it, because it’s not as if it’s wrong, per se, if the guest wasn’t eating. He recalls Ace’s previous words to him.

“Housewarden, you really should loosen up a bit! Otherwise you’re gonna end up being a killjoy!”

He may be many things, but he is not a killjoy! Just because he was particular about certain things doesn’t mean he didn’t know how to let go.

But something feels off.

Then he realizes that while the conversation is flowing as usual, you are hardly speaking at all. You only speak when directly spoken to, and even then, it’s short, clipped responses.

He watches incredulously as you pour yourself a cup of tea and then drink it.

The golden scepter materializes in his hand as easily as breathing.

Everyone else reacts explosively, looking alarmed at the scene unfolding. Meanwhile, you merely stare blankly at the end of the scepter nearly several inches from your nose.

"Riddle, hold the phone, what are you doing?!" He barely hears Cater's frantic voice to his left. He's too focused on the way that…that thing is not reacting at all. 

"You. Where is [First]?"

It's silent for a moment, and then a disturbing crooked grin breaks out from its poker face. It starts cackling loudly and it makes his blood start boiling. 

"Start speaking or it's off with your head!" He screeches, scepter shaking uncontrollably in his hands.

"Boo, I was hoping you guys were stupid enough to fall for it.” The thing taunts, leaning back in their chair. 

Red fills his vision. How dare this thing use your visage and breath such vile words? Before he could register it, his arm swipes across. By the time his eyes clear and his breathing steadies, he's staring at a decapitated body that is mangled beyond repair. 

It takes another moment to realize he is not the only one who has raised their magical pen.

Trey is at his right, golden eyes dark as Riddle realizes he positioned himself to shield him. Cater mirrors Trey, but his arms are visibly shaking and his eyes keep switching from him to the broken body on the trimmed lawn. Ace and Deuce had positioned themselves to the backside, but they too, barely seem to be holding themselves together, clenched fists at the ready for physical blows.

“What…” he breathes, “is going on?”

The only answer he gets is the wind whistling through the grass blades.

He collapses to his knees as he fumbles with a body that has been torn asunder, but instead of flesh and bones, he only finds clay and chipped resin.

“What have we done?”

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere heartslabyul #my works #if this gets good reception i'll have a easier time of writing part 2

[princessmaybank]

Truth or Dare

Pairings: BestFriend!JJ x BestFriend!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Jealous JJ, stripping, fingering, squirting, etc.

Summary: They play t or d.

Authors Note: I didn't mean to post this so soon, but since it's out already I hope you like it, I'm just stopping it here, if you like it let me know if you want a part 2 :(.

"Truth or Dare?" John B asks darting his eyes to Cleo. "Oh come on man! You should already know the answer!" He smirked and nodded. You were at the chateau in the hot tub that JJ so graciously purchased for you all a few months back. Everyone was slugging down beers and having a big night of fun.

"I dare you to read the last text message you sent out loud." JB said shrugging, showing us that's all he has prepared. "oh man, too easy!" Cleo flung her arms upwards then reached for her phone. After she got to her messages she cleared her throat. " 'What we gonna do tonight?' I sent that to Sarah man." John B rolled his eyes in defeat, secretly hoping she had sent a naughty message to Pope or something.

"Okay Y/N, truth or dare?" She moved on quickly. "Dare of course." You responded, causing JJ to look at you with a slight smile. You and JJ are best friends, and always have been. Of course everyone in that hot tub was your best friend, but JJ was different, you could talk about literally anything for hours on end. He's always been there for you.

"I dare you to prank call Rafe Cameron. Pretend to want him and need him." Cleo ended with a smirk pointing to your phone. You didn't mind the dare but a certain blonde about a foot behind you definitely cared. He wasn't good at hiding his emotions, everything he wanted to say was already written on his face. "I don't think that's a good idea Y/N." You hear JJ say with a stern voice from behind you. "Oh calm your tits Jayj, what's the worst that could happen? I get a boyfriend?" You responded making all the girls giggle.

"It's ringing!" Kiara said out loud so everyone knew what was going on. Kiara was very close to the phone with you but it was pressed against your ear. "Hey Rafe!" You said a little too enthusiastic for JJ's liking. "Hey, Y/N. What do I owe this pleasant surprise?" He asked, gratefully. "Well I really wanted to tell you that I think of you a lot Rafe. It's getting to be too much now. I can't shake the feeling of needing to be with you." Everyone was giggling at that moment, other than one person, I'm sure you could guess who. Your eyes caught JJ's as he rolled them and crossed his arms. You could see how this was affecting him, so why not play some more. "Wow, I've been wai-" You cut Rafe's sentence short. "Rafe, mmmmm I need you so bad right now. Ohhhh." You pretend to moan into the phone. "Oh baby, are you touching yourself to me?" He asked clearly turned on. Kiara gagged and walked a few feet away. "Oh yes I am, but I wish it was you..." You paused for dramatic effect.

"Daddy." You smirked holding back a giggle, hearing Rafe groan into the phone. Next thing you know JJ is standing in front of you hanging up the call, fuming. He was legitimately tomato red. Everyone watched, curious about what he was going to do.

He grabbed your waist pulling you as close as he could while looking into your eyes. "Don't you ever pull that shit again." His eyes never left yours. You wanted to stand up for yourself but the only thing that left your mouth was "o-okay." He leaned down to whisper in your ear. "Good girl." There was that feeling of butterflies in your stomach. JJ never made you feel this way. What was happening? "When this little party is over you're coming to my room, we have things to talk about." He whispered again.

Everyone sat back down choosing to ignore how JJ nearly killed/fucked you right then and there. You chose to ignore it as well even though the tingling between your legs is making it difficult.

Instead of you asking the next question Pope cut the tension and began after Sarah. "Truth or dare?" He asked. Sarah obviously chose the safe route at this moment. "Is it true that even though you and JB are married, you'll still have a huge wedding and legally do it?" Pope asked. Awe of course he would, it's Pope. Sarah nodded "Of course I still want my dream wedding! Don't be silly Pope." She giggled.

"Okay J- Kiara, yeah Kiara. Truth or dare?" No one could look at JJ right now how would they be able to play this game right now?

"I'll say, truth." She smiled lightly. "Ok here's a little would you rather. Would you rather, fuck Topper or Kelce?" Kiara gasped. "Ew, can I kill myself instead?" She gagged. Everyone laughed and accepted that as her answer.

Eventually someone asked JJ the question and he ended up chugging some beer upside down. You still couldn't get those low-flying butterflies to go away. The thought of JJ taking you right there was fogging your brain.

After about an hour longer everyone was headed home or to bed. Pope and Cleo went back to the Heywards and Kiara went back to her house. Sarah decided to stay at the chateau with John B, then of course JJ asked you to go to his room and talk with him.

You sat on JJ's bed after getting your shower, you waited for him to finish up in the shower. JJ left some of his clothes on his bed for you to change into.

Next thing you knew, you were under JJ, making out with him on his bed. You had no idea how you got here but you weren't going to complain.

JJ pulled you onto his lap, never disconnecting your lips from each other. He held onto your hips and pressed down as he grinded up. You moved your hips at a faster pace needing the friction. He tore his lips from yours taking a breath before speaking. "Truth or dare?" He asked as you rolled your eyes. JJ gave you a look that said 'just answer it'. So you did. "Dare." You said with confidence streaming through your veins. JJ rubbed your hips, slowly reaching for your butt to squeeze.

"Strip for me baby." He said as he squeezed. You blushed not knowing how to react. "Come on baby, let me see that gorgeous body you've got hiding under my baggy clothes." When JJ said that, you began to melt. You decided to just take your shirt off while on his lap. You weren't wearing a bra so he got quite the show very quickly. You got off of him as he pushed himself to sit on the edge of his bed. The idea to strip tease JJ came to your mind so that's exactly what you did.

At some point when you were completely naked, you wanted to tease him so you sat on his lap and pulled one of his hands forward to your aching hole. You teased yourself with his fingers, secretly wanting him to continue what you had started. Which he had no problem with doing. He pushed two fingers inside of you causing a gasp and moan mix, to fall from your lips.

JJ's hand raced to cover your mouth. "Shhhh you have to be quiet, baby, or we'll get caught." He whispered in your ear. You nodded and bit your lip as JJ moved his fingers back and forth in your tight hole. JJ was making you so wet, your pussy was so loud that you might just get caught by being fingered. "Tell your pussy to be quiet." He giggled in your ear. "Tell your fingers to stop making me feel so good then." You moaned leaning your head back onto his shoulder.

JJ smirked to himself, knowing he was doing a good job. He sped up trying to make you cum but you suddenly felt embarrassed. "JJ- this f-eels so g-good..but I think I have to go..to the bathroom-" That was music to JJ's ears. His movements only got faster, he moved your hand to your clit so you could help by rubbing yourself.

"JJ- I-I" A loud squeal started erupting from your mouth. JJ slapped his hand across your mouth. One more swift push into your pussy and he pulled out, a gush of fluid came rushing out. You kept moaning into his hand. He continued playing with your cunt until you were done squirting.

"Something tells me you've never done that before baby."

#outer banks #jj maybank #obx fic #rudy pankow smut #rudy pankow x reader #obx x reader #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #smut prompts

[avatar-anna]

Champagne Problems, Part Two

IT"S FINISHED! whew, that only took forever. part of the reason this took so long to write is that i was obsessing over if it would be as good as part 1, so hopefully y'all like it (but please be nice if you don't). final word count is about 22-23k words...so buckle in, grab a snack, and enjoy!

Part One

*.*

Japan

Harry walked alone through the busy streets of Tokyo, his chin tucked close to his chest and his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his long overcoat. There was a cadence to his steps as he kept time with the song that played on a loop in his head. It wasn't one that anyone here but him would know. Well, him and one other person, but she was a world away.

Rounding the corner, Harry turned into the cafe he'd been frequenting since he'd arrived. He nodded to the shopkeeper before heading over to the counter, pulling an old, weathered vinyl from his bag.

"This is the one I was talking to you about," he said by way of greeting. "It truly is a phenomenal record."

Harry handed over the record, hesitating a little before letting go of it. He'd been listening to it nonstop since he'd left Los Angeles, and parting with it was more difficult than he originally thought it would be. When he first came to the cafe, he'd looked for it within the crammed shelves huddled in the corner. The shopkeeper had never even heard of it, and Harry could only imagine what Y/n would say if she knew. She'd been the one to introduce him to it, the memory of that conversation in her apartment seared into his brain.

"Wings?" Harry had asked, not quite suspiciously, but the glare Y/n sent over his shoulder made it seem like he'd already written it off. Her glare is so cute, he remembered thinking, admiring the adorable furrow of her brow as she rooted through a collection of vinyls that was bigger than anything Harry had ever seen.

"It'll change your life," she'd promised, before sliding the record out of its sleeve and putting it on the turntable. Her record player was littered with stickers, some too faded or covered by others to see them properly.

She'd grinned as the opening chords to the first track played, settling next to Harry as she picked up her wine glass, her lips puckering around it to take a sip. She hadn't noticed him staring until about a minute later, when her eyes met his. Her brows had furrowed once more, but this time it was more confused. She'd nudged Harry's leg with her foot, which was covered in a purple patterned fuzzy sock.

"It's your turn, isn't it?" she'd asked, eyes darting to the Scrabble board on the coffee table.

Harry remembered taking the wine glass from Y/n's hands and setting it on the table next to the board. He remembered taking her face in his hands and kissing her. He remembered her squeak of surprise but that she didn't pull away.

Their very first kiss.

The memory of her delicate hands sliding into his hair, of her crawling into his lap, the little noise she made as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip—it was all-consuming as Harry sat down at his usual table at the cafe a million miles from Y/n and Los Angeles.

"It'll changed your life," she'd promised him. Little did he know, she already had.

*.*

A week after Harry left, you received a text from your ex, a total surprise seeing as you hadn't spoken to him since you'd broken up.

Gavin: I heard about what happened with you and my sister. Can we meet somewhere and talk?

That message sat in your inbox without a response for hours as you tried to work up the courage to say yes. You knew you needed to, you knew you would feel better after the fact, that both of you deserved closure after the colossal end to your relationship, but every time your thumb hovered over the keyboard, you chickened out.

Until finally, you wrote, Okay.

Seeing Gavin again was a trip. He looked the same, yet so different at the same time. He had facial hair for one thing, and his hair was a couple inches longer than it had been when you were together. Deep down, you assumed a public shaming on his part, you feared he would just berate you for all the ways you'd hurt him and that he hated you for breaking his heart and humiliating him.

But that had never been who Gavin was. Your ex was kind and honorable, he tipped generously on dinner dates and warmed up socks for you in the dryer because he knew how cold you got after a long day at work. He was the definition of a sweetheart, and assuming the worst about him was just the fear and insecurity talking.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, Gavin," you said, trying to hold all the excess of emotion brimming to the surface as you walked beside him. You'd agreed on a walk through the park as opposed to sitting down somewhere, both of you perhaps too nervous to sit still.

Gavin merely nodded, which was more than you could've asked for given the circumstances. "Thank you. So much time has passed, but...it feels nice to hear."

It was a while before either of you said anything. Los Angeles wasn't a frozen tundra by any means, but it was quite brisk by the ocean, and you crossed your arms across your chest to retain a bit of heat.

Then, Gavin said, "I...I just need to know why. Did I do something? I thought things were good between us. I mean I wanted to—"

Maybe it was the cold, but his cheeks were rosy as his voice tapered off. "You didn't do anything wrong, Gav," you said, wanting to take his hand but refraining. It didn't feel like something you could do anymore. Even if two years had come and gone, you couldn't make yourself cross that line. It didn't feel right.

You didn't know how to sugarcoat your words, but you hoped time would soften the blow. "I just...I realized that you were in love with me and I—I just wasn't. I wanted to be, I wanted to be in love with you, but—And then I panicked. I overheard your mom and sister talking about you wanting to propose, and I just couldn't lead you on. I couldn't let you do that knowing you deserved better than what I could give you.

"But it killed me, Gavin," you said, tearing up just thinking about it. "Hurting you is the worst thing I've ever done, and I've—I've hated myself for putting you through that, and I couldn't face you after, which was unfair of me."

"I just wanted an explanation," Gavin said quietly, his head bent so you couldn't see his face. "All I ever wanted was to understand. I think that hurt more than you breaking up with me, that you couldn't offer me that decency."

You nodded with a sniffle, keeping your eye on the slate blue of the ocean and the clouds covering your favorite shade of sky blue. "It was selfish of me to ignore you, I know that. I just...couldn't. I was scared that you would convince me to come back when that wasn't really what I wanted, and with your family and friends constantly messaging me, I just thought staying away was for the best."

"Y/n, what—what messages? What are you talking about?"

"You really don't know?" Perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, Gavin's family would never do or say anything to him that would make them look bad in his eyes. But so much time had passed that you thought it would've slipped. He'd heard about the coffee house incident, after all.

With shaking hands, you reached for your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. After scrolling through your messages, you passed it to Gavin, letting him look for himself. He was quiet as he looked over the messages from his sister. There were others, but Larissa's were the most vicious. A more mentally sound person would've deleted them ages ago, but you liked to punish yourself when you were feeling particularly low.

"I don't hold any of this against you," you said. "I know you're not your family, but I just...I don't know."

"I wish I'd known about all this before," Gavin mumbled with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry for them."

"Thank you."

You didn't know what to say after that, you weren't even sure you wanted to dwell on the past anymore. It had gone by so quickly in your eyes, but two years suddenly felt like ten. You felt older, more jaded as you walked next to the man you were almost engaged to.

"Are you happy?" you asked suddenly, stopping at a bench and sitting down.

Gavin sat down next to you. He handed your phone back before sighing. "I am. I wasn't for a while, but I am. You?"

You nodded. "Learning to be. I think I was...in a rough place before I started seeing you, and now I think I'm finally on the other side of it."

Gavin's grin was familiar. It felt good to see it, but it didn't give you the butterflies that it used to. Maybe just a little relief. You smiled back, nudging him with your shoulder. "You seeing anyone?"

The blush on Gavin's cheeks told you everything you needed to know, and knowing he moved on settled something in you. "Yeah. We've been together about a year now."

Sometimes you daydreamed about who Gavin would be with when he eventually moved on. Someone perky, but not in an obnoxious way. Maybe she liked to paint and drew pictures of his profile while they had picnics together, because picnics were the kind of dates they would go on. They would hold hands in the popcorn bowl at the movies and wear matching sweaters on Christmas. The girl who would truly steal Gavin's heart would be just as sweet and generous as he was and would make his lunches for work and wipe his mouth at dinner with a smile and love him with her entire being because he deserved it.

"That's wonderful, Gav," you said earnestly. You took his hand in yours and squeezed, hoping he knew you were telling the truth. The only thing you hoped was that he kept her far, far away from his family.

"Are you? Seeing anyone?"

A simple question, and yet you didn't know how to offer a simple answer. Eventually, you shook your head. "Uh...no."

"Brothers scaring the line of willing suitors?" he joked, knowing full well how your brothers could be.

Laughing, you shook your head. "No, nothing like that, I just—It's complicated, I guess."

You couldn't quite believe that you were having this conversation today, especially with Gavin. But talking to him had always come easy, it was one of the things you liked best about being with him.

"If you can believe it," you added, a little humor in your voice. "I was the one who was ready to take things further."

For a moment, you worried you'd taken things too far, but his brows just raised amusingly. "No shit. Really?"

"He wasn't ready. Just my luck. I finally get my shit together and he takes off to another continent."

You didn't resent Harry for leaving. He'd done what was best for him, but that didn't mean the timing didn't suck. You finally felt comfortable and confident enough to be open with someone, and they fled the country.

Okay, so Harry didn't flee the country, but you felt the blow to your ego no matter how rational you were about the situation.

"He'll come around," Gavin promised, which took you by surprise. "You're probably not aware, but you're very easy to fall in love with, Y/n."

Your cheeks flushed, feeling Gavin's words right down to your toes. It didn't feel romantic in any sort of way, but there was some reassurance. Gavin knew you well, and he had been a good friend.

And yet, the only thing you could think as you continued to catch up with your ex was, Then why is it so hard for me to fall in love?

*.*

Harry hadn't realized it, but he'd started to keep a list in his head, a mental tally of all the little things he learned about Y/n and that made her who she was.

The list had started with small trivial things like her coffee order and that she seemed to be particularly fond of wearing bandanas in her hair or that she always carried the same canvas tote on her shoulder, one that read, "You're Doing Great," in squiggly blue writing. From there, the list grew, and he suddenly began to collect bits of information from Y/n like valuable trading cards—what it was like growing up with three older brothers, how long she stayed in Nashville before moving out to Los Angeles, and what the perfect record was for when she was feeling sad. Harry wanted to know everything, every little piece she was willing to give him until he understood even the smallest gesture.

"Why don't you perform your songs?"

It was a question that lingered in the back of his mind for weeks now. Harry had heard Y/n sing on multiple occasions as they wrote together, and he couldn't help but think that she was the whole package. She could sing, had the kind of voice that was soft and low, a little raspy but easy to harmonize with. She wrote incredible songs that held so much depth and emotion and she could play multiple instruments. Harry could see her selling out stadiums and connecting to people through music that she wrote and performed. Yet she didn't.

"I never really had the desire to," Y/n said with a shrug. They were in his backyard, sitting around a bonfire with a bottle of wine between them. It was her turn to pick, and Chris Stapelton was crooning through her phone's speaker.

"Is it like a stage fright thing?"

"No, not at all," Y/n said. "I just don't think that life was made for me, you know? I don't know if I could handle being famous."

Harry supposed he understood what she meant. He loved his life, but it wasn't always a walk in the park. But it did make him wonder if she would ever be with someone like him, someone who did lead a life that she thought she couldn't handle. For the first time since he'd met her, Harry decided he didn't want to know.

"What about...singing backup or joining your favorite musician on tour once he releases the greatest album since...So?"

"I didn't peg you for a Peter Gabriel fan," she murmured, immediately recognizing the title, and Harry couldn't help but smile a little at the fact that she knew exactly what album he was referring to. "But, I guess so. If it was for a friend."

Harry tucked that little nugget of information away. Tour was worlds away at the moment, but it was always good to think ahead, especially when he knew he needed a keyboardist replacement.

Looking up, he admired Y/n in the glow of the bonfire, his heart beating rapidly even though she wasn't even doing anything. Ever since their first kiss a week ago, he just wanted more. His brain could hardly keep up with his heart and how badly it longed for her. And she didn't even realize the effect she had on him. She drove him crazy.

And that scared him. Harry had only recently broken up with his ex, and he didn't think it was possible to feel so strongly for someone after coming out of a pretty serious relationship with someone else. He knew he should untangle the strings, that if he let things get too far, they'd get messy, and he and Y/n would both end up hurt.

But that voice in his head that told him to be careful became a low buzz as Y/n stood up and shuffled over to him before placing herself in his lap. Her fingers came up to play with the hair that curled at the nape of Harry's neck, and he couldn't help but close his eyes at the feeling, at her closeness, at the smell of her perfume that lingered on her clothes.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," she whispered, almost like she was talking to herself and not to Harry. "And I don't have any expectations, but I'm okay with it if you are."

Yet. Y/n didn't have any expectations yet. He knew the familiar thudding of his heart, the excited flutter in his stomach as he leaned into her touch. Of course there would be expectations, but Harry found himself nodding anyway, unable to deny either of them the pleasure of her lips sliding lightly against his. Y/n had never initiated anything between them before, and her tentative kiss told Harry she was unsure of herself. At first glance, she came off as unsure when it came to most things, but Harry learned that she held within herself a quiet confidence that he admired.

Harry stood up with her in his arms as he led them back inside. He didn't know where this would lead, tonight or any night to follow. He didn't know if Y/n was ready to sleep with him, and he honestly wasn't sure if he was either. But he wanted her close and to feel those gentle hands a little firmer in his hair. That was all he knew, and he let himself not think about anything else.

The tangles of his feelings were positively knotted, and despite his long list of things he knew about Y/n, he still didn't know where her heart truly lay. But if she was willing to walk through the fire blind, then so was he.

*.*

Two weeks into Harry being gone, and you were starting to wonder when you'd become so pathetic.

In the time since Harry left for Japan, you hadn't written a single song, not even a lyric. It was ludicrous. You'd written by yourself your entire career, but after a couple months spent with a writing partner, you were rendered insipirationless.

Not to mention semi-friendless.

It wasn't that Harry's friends didn't want to hang out, you just weren't sure you could. Outside of Sylvia, you didn't hang out with Harry's team without him, and it just felt weird to start doing so now. You didn't shy away from them when you saw them in the hallways of the building you all worked in, but you never knew what to say past a casual greeting.

Funnily enough, though, you'd said everything you needed to say to Gavin. Meeting up with him eased a heaviness in your chest you'd been carrying around with you for the last two years. You both were able to get the closure that you'd been denying yourselves, and it felt good to get everything out in the open, to receive Gavin's forgiveness after punishing yourself for such a long time.

Seeing Gavin and talking to him left you feeling lighter, but it also left you a little hollow to. With no rain cloud hanging over your head anymore, you didn't know what to do with yourself. The concept of happiness was something you'd never thought you would get, and now that it was within reach you were hesitant.

"Maybe we need a sabbatical, pookie," you said to your dog, kissing his nose. "What do you think?"

Buddy Holly didn't have a response for you, he just tilted his head at the sound of your voice. Sighing, you scratched his head and pressed play on the movie you'd previously been watching before your dog unceremoniously climbed into your lap.

Now that Harry was gone on his journey of self-discovery, you'd gone back to spending your nights alone. In theory, it should've been easy. Before Harry, being alone was second nature, but your first night alone you were at a loss. You kept wanting to reach for your phone and call him, send him a text about the record you were listening to or the ridiculous thing Buddy had done that day. You didn't realize of much Harry had engrained himself into your life, and now he was half a world away.

Reaching out wasn't an option, either, no matter how much you wanted to. He didn't tell you much for his reasons for leaving, a "writing retreat," he claimed, but you knew it was more than that. There was shit he needed to figure out, shit regarding his past relationship, so you felt the ball was in his court.

The next day, you were on the elevator going up to work, arguing with your brother on the phone.

"Nothing's wrong, Hayden," you insisted, rubbing a tired hand over your face.

"No, there definitely is. Evan, Andrew, and I all agree," Hayden said. "Something's definitely wrong with you. And when something's wrong with you, it's usually one of three things. Menstruation, a guy, or one of us, and seeing as we haven't done anything, and your period doesn't—"

"Oh my God, Hayden!" you groaned as the elevator doors opened. "I'm not...menstruating. Jesus! The fuck is wrong with you?"

Hayden kept jabbering in your ear, but you weren't listening anymore because the elevator doors had opened to reveal someone on the other side. Mitch, Harry's friend was standing there, eyes wide as he looked at you, clearly having heard your side of the conversation with your brother.

God, could this day get any worse? you thought. Shutting your eyes, you wondered if you stood there long enough with your eyes closed, the elevator doors would close and take you straight to hell or you would maybe just disappear on the spot. Either would be appreciated.

"Hayden, I have to call you back."

"You're still coming to my game this weekend right?" he asked.

"Wearing the other team's jersey," you muttered, hanging up as your brother began to protest.

Since the elevator doors stayed open and you didn't spontaneously combust, you opened your eyes. "Hey."

Mitch nodded. "Hey, Y/n."

The air was so incredibly awkward, and you wondered why you weren't sprinting toward your studio and locking yourself in permanently. But neither of you moved, and now you felt the need to explain yourself. "I...I wish I had an explanation other than my brothers still seem to ruin my life from hundreds of miles away, but I don't."

You finally stepped out of the elevator and moved around Mitch, who stepped inside. He still had that tense smile on his face, and you wondered if the two of you would ever be able to make eye contact again. Not that you ever did all that much before this God-awful incident. Just another reason to avoid Harry's friends.

"Right. H mentioned you had brothers," he said. "See you around, Y/n."

For my own sanity, I hope not, you prayed to whoever was listening.

*.*

"Do you ever think about what you would be doing if you weren't doing...this?" Y/n asked, gesturing vaguely around her.

Harry looked down to where she was spread out on the floor, her head rested in his lap while he leaned against his sofa. He wasn't quite sure how they ended up on the floor, but he didn't dare move, resisting the urge to run his fingers through her hair. It was shiny, and smelled faintly of apples. He wondered if it was as soft as he imagined.

Blinking, he stumbled around in his brain for an answer, clearing his head of thoughts of silky hair passing through his fingers. "Honestly? No, not really."

"You don't?"

Harry shrugged even though Y/n's eyes were closed. She did that often if there was music playing, as if she was trying to absorb every note into her body while maintaining a conversation. Right now they were listening to one of Harry's current favorites: a Joni Mitchell album he'd grown up listening to with his mum. He remembered when he used to scramble for answers in interviews when he was asked about his favorite artist or album, trying to come up with an answer that the media would want to hear without appearing fake. He'd list classic rock bands like Fleetwood Mac and wear old band t-shirts from the seventies. He didn't not like those artists, he loved them. But when Y/n asked about his favorite record in his collection, he didn't hesitate to reach for Joni Mitchell, knowing she wouldn't judge him for his answer.

"No. I was so young when I auditioned for the X-Factor," Harry explained. "I don't even think I knew what I wanted to study in school then, so it's hard to know what I would be doing now if it weren't for all...this."

And I wouldn't have met you, he thought but kept that to himself. Neither of them was ready for those kinds of words if he was being honest. Y/n was skittish about feelings at the best of times, and he didn't know where his feelings for her started, and getting over his ex ended. It gave him a headache if he thought about it too long, so he didn't.

Y/n sat up, and Harry resisted the urge to pull her back to him. As they hung out more and more, he had this overwhelming desire to be near her as much as possible. A hollowness would form in his chest if he didn't seek her out at the studio, leaving him blushing like an idiot every time he left his friends behind as he walked down the familiar hallway to her door. None of them ever said anything outright, but he could practically hear their teasing thoughts, but he couldn't help it. Y/n had drawn him in from the moment he'd laid eyes on her.

"Maybe you'd be a florist," she said with a small grin.

"A florist?"

"Yeah." Y/n's grin grew, and Harry swore his heart grew with it. When he initially started spending time with her, or bugging her, more like, she hardly smiled. He thought it was such a shame. Not only because Y/n had a beautiful smile, but because she felt like she couldn't. Harry never wanted her to feel like she couldn't be happy, least of all around him. "You could have this big truck and deliver flowers to baby showers and weddings and other big occasions."

"Oh yeah? And where are you in this scenario?" he asked, somewhat nervous to hear the answer.

A blush crept up Y/n's cheeks as she looked at him. "In the passenger seat."

*.*

The third week Harry was gone, a stranger popped into your studio. A sense of deja vu had run through you as you looked up to find someone occupying the space in your doorframe, only Harry never knocked to make his presence known. You'd always just been aware of him when he entered the room.

"Can I help you?" you asked. You were working on a song that you actually quite liked. A new angle, a different approach to songs that you wanted to see through, and interruptions weren't going to help.

"Mitch said to come find you," he said. He looked a little nervous at having disrupted your work, so you eased up on your stare. "He said you could help us?"

Us? you thought. You supposed that it wasn't too far fetched that Harry's team would make themselves busy while he was off on sabbatical, or whatever it was he'd been doing in Japan. You hadn't heard from him much, and you tried not to let that hurt your feelings too much.

Brows furrowed, you said, "I'm sorry, I don't know how I would help—"

"He said you've written for country artists before?" the guy said. "We're sort of stuck and he said to come find you, so..."

Sighing, you stood up, but not before jotting a couple notes down in your journal. Perhaps it was kismet that the song you'd been playing around with today had been country in your mind. The prospect of writing with anyone other than Harry felt odd, uncomfortable. But Harry wasn't here, and you didn't know when he would be back and you couldn't just hide in your studio because he'd left.

You didn't know what to expect as you followed the man, Daniel, he'd finally introduced, led you to a studio a couple rooms away from yours. You'd met Harry's writing and production team a number of times, but Harry wasn't a country artist, so Mitch was clearly helping out with a different project, which meant introducing yourself to a whole new group.

Mitch was waiting with one other person, a young woman who was about your age or younger. She had blond curly hair and light blue eyes, a smile on her face at something Mitch said. When you entered the room, you couldn't help but think back to last week when you'd completely embarrassed yourself in front of Mitch. You hadn't seen him since, and even though it was probably unlikely, you'd hoped you'd never have to again.

Introductions were made quickly before a chair was pulled out for you. The young woman's name was Cam, and she was working on putting out her first ever single. "And album eventually, but we're starting out small," she said with a bashful grin. "I'm such a huge fan of your work, and when Mitch said you were just down the hall, I told him he had to introduce me. I swear I love every song you've ever written."

Nodding, you gripped the soft leather binding of your journal, wondering what Mitch was angling at here. From the short amount of time you'd spent with him, he seemed rather quiet. A chill person who mostly kept to himself. You weren't sure why you were being dragged into one of his projects.

"Yeah. That's where I started my career," you said. "I'm sorry—Did you want my help with a song?"

"The whole album too, hopefully," Cam said, and you could see it in her eyes how bad she wanted this. She was ambitious, but not in a way that made you want to run back to your room and have nothing to do with this project. You eyed her scuffed boots and the worn friendship bracelets on her wrists and the hope that lined her body as she waited for you to say something.

"I usually work alone," you said. "But, I—I did happen to be writing something a little country today if you wanted to take a look."

You handed your journal over to the young woman, trying to decide if you wanted to be part of this little team. On the one hand, you thought Harry would be the only person you'd feel comfortable writing with, but...if he had a team, why couldn't you? Perhaps Harry had opened you up to the possibility of branching out and trying things you'd closed yourself off to in the past.

At the very least, you decided, you would hear her out, see how you gelled with this small group. If not for any other reason than as a small favor to an acquaintance. You didn't know Mitch all that well, but you considered him someone you knew.

And to be honest, maybe you were getting tired of staying holed up in a studio by yourself all the time.

So now you were meeting with Cam, Mitch, and Daniel regularly. That first day, you stayed at the studio late at night workshopping ideas and getting a feel for the sound and vision Cam was going for. And it was easy. Bouncing ideas off each other, picking up the guitar and playing a potential riff and letting Mitch carry it somewhere else, working out harmonies and melodies with Cam. You'd left the studio later than you ever had that night, but energy coursed through your veins as you left the building.

You'd never been a part of something at the start with the means to see it through. You usually wrote songs and sold them to whoever wanted them, and with Harry, you'd joined in songwriting when he and his team were well underway, but this...this was new, and you didn't hate it. In fact, you were looking forward to meeting the next day, and the next, and the next...

Weeks flew by as you worked on this album, and you suddenly lived off takeout boxes and snacks as you spent many a late night as you worked on song after song, eager to see this project come to life. There wasn't necessarily a deadline, but you were all just eager to keep working on what you all knew was something special. And today Mitch was going to teach you how to play the drums while Cam met with her record label for an hour. It felt like there was finally light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel, one that you'd been winding through the last two years. It felt good to feel this light again, even your brothers got off your back a little, though you knew that wouldn't last very long.

"I'm on my way right now, and I'm bringing Buddy because he's being extra clingy today," you said into the phone. "He's also my reason for going home at a reasonable hour—"

Time stopped as you opened the door to your apartment. Your heart was in your throat, partly because you were startled to find someone on the other side, and then because your eyes finally registered who was on the other side.

"Y/n?"

Blinking, you quickly told Cam you had to go before hanging up the phone, slipping it in your coat pocket before letting it drop to the floor. You ran a hand over your face, wondering if you'd magically conjured him to your door, or if you were so tired you were suddenly delirious, but when you uncovered your eyes, he was still there, hands tucked in his pockets and a suitcase resting by his feet, a cat carrier on top of it.

"Harry? What—What are you doing here? When did you—"

There was no time to think or speak or breathe as Harry surged forward, his hands suddenly out of his pockets and settling deep in your hair, and kissed you.

The kiss was bruising, making it hard to think straight, making it hard to think about anything but him. His cologne flooded your senses as if you'd never smelled it before, making you sigh against his mouth and giving him ample opportunity to slide his tongue against yours as he backed you against the doorframe with a soft thud.

Your hands flew of their own accord, reaching beneath Harry's coat and gripping the shirt he wore beneath it. You needed to feel him, to know he was really here in front of you, that he wasn't going to evaporate in your hands leaving you with only the memory of his kiss. You'd had that particular dream one too many times.

Harry's hands smoothed down your sides, rucking up your shirt and setting your skin on fire when his thumbs brushed your ribcage. Your breaths stuttered until you finally had to pull back to catch it Instinctively, Harry followed, his mouth searching for yours, then your neck, but you held him in place for a moment.

"Wait," you said, breaths shallow. Harry stopped immediately, eyes roving your face in a similar way to how you were doing so. When he finally met your gaze, a small, shy smile, spread across your lips. "H—Hi."

Harry's responding grin was radiant. "Hi."

*.*

"I don't understand, when—when did you get back?"

It was safe to say you weren't going into the studio. There were about ten seconds of protesting before you finally caved, and it had nothing to do with Harry's lips on your neck or his hands sneaking beneath your shirt. "Stay," Harry had mumbled. "Please? There's so much I want to say."

So you stayed, though you hadn't really spoken much. You and Harry had ended up on your couch huddled up together under a blanket, Buddy Holly dozing at your feet. You kept waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say, but he kept quiet. It was nice for a while, but you began to itch with the need for answers. You didn't want to immediately fall back into old habits the second he came back, even if laying flush against his chest was the most peaceful you felt in weeks. You were nervous to talk to him, to hear him say that after staying away for two months, he still didn't want a relationship. But even so, it would be better to know the truth and start getting over it now than to hold out hope.

"Today," Harry said. "I came straight here from the airport."

"Why? Wouldn't you want to go home? Get settled. Sweet Pea probably misses home."

Harry raised his head from where he'd been resting it in the crook of your neck. His brows raised suspiciously to where his cat was dozing on top of Buddy, as if she'd never left. "I think she's rather comfortable."

"You're awfully comfortable too," you said under your breath. Then, even though you felt so warm in his embrace, you sat up, putting some distance between yourself and Harry.

You could tell he wanted to protest, his sleepy eyes and mussed brown curls covering his forehead in a messy tangle told you that all he wanted was to fall asleep next to you. You wanted that too, but your mind kept drifting back to that last conversation, to that last exchange of words, and you let them keep that small bubble of distance between you and him.

"I need to know why you're here, H," you said, raising your knees up to your chest.

Harry could hear the seriousness in your voice, his expression sobering a little. He sat up too, facing you as he took up his place at the corner of the couch. There were only a couple inches between you, but it felt like Harry was still in Japan with how distant you felt from him now. He was home, but was he really? You didn't know how your friendship was going to evolve from here. You supposed you could be okay with just being his friend. It would sting, but you would get over it.

Eventually.

You hoped.

"I...just knew that this was where I needed to be," he said, not meeting your eye. "I came home and the only person I wanted to see was you."

His words meant more than you cared to admit. They filled you with warmth, bringing a flush to your cheeks that you prayed Harry didn't see.

"I missed you too," was all you could think of to say.

"And I—I want more," Harry said. "I was halfway across the world, and I was writing and walking around the city, and all I wanted was to share those moments with you and write with you and wake up next to you. I just...I want you in my life, Y/n."

"As your friend?" you asked, your voice stuck somewhere in your throat.

"However you'll have me."

Your heart leaped in your chest, but you stopped yourself from launching across the couch into his arms. It was all too good to be true. Harry wasn't ready for a relationship before he left, and you'd been gracious and understood where he was coming from. And now that a few weeks had passed, he suddenly wanted to be whatever you wanted him to be. In the back of your mind, the fact that he hadn't said "boyfriend" pricked a sensitive part of your brain. It was silly and minuscule, and it shouldn't have mattered, so you tried not to let it.

Still, you were unsure. You knew Harry would never be so cruel as to feed you words for the sake of placating you, but something left you hesitating. Maybe it was that the last time you saw Harry, he told you he couldn't give you what you wanted and now he was saying he could, or maybe your heart was still protecting you from potential pain, you weren't sure. But you couldn't give in.

Almost as if he could read the jumbled thoughts running around in your head, Harry inched toward you, his expression soft and open. "I can tell you're unsure, and I don't blame you," he said, taking a chance and reaching a hand across the couch to hold yours. "Let me prove it to you."

Brows furrowed, you tilted your head to the side. "Prove it?"

"We'll go slow," Harry said as he nodded and moved closer. Close enough to tip your chin up with his knuckle. "We can do that, can't we? We don't have to rush things. We can just...go on a date and see what happens, right?"

Despite the hesitation, a smile twitched at the corner of your lips. "Harry Styles...are you asking me on a date?"

Harry's responding grin was wide and sweet as honey. "Only if you're saying yes."

Eight weeks ago, you'd stepped out of your comfort zone by asking Harry for more, and watching him walk away hurt more than you ever thought it would. Your instinct was to hide, to crawl back into your shell before you could get hurt again. But you knew Harry had been hurt before too, and now he was trying. Even though they'd both had their hearts broken for different reasons and had every reason not to give into their feelings and hide, preferring to be alone.

It took you two years to..."forgive yourself" didn't seem like the right words. To be ready to put yourself into the world again, to allow yourself the possibility of hurting and being hurt in that way again. Your scars had healed over into faint white lines after two whole years. Nearly imperceptible, but still there, a subtle but constant reminder of what you stood to lose if you ruined things again. But also a reminder that you could love and lose and still heal, and maybe even love again. Harry hadn't been there when he left, and at the time you hoped he would be. And maybe part of you knew he would be, because you'd gotten there too in your own way.

The hope that kindled in your chest made you nervous, but it made you excited too.

"I—I don't want you to feel like you have to do this because—"

Harry's index finger was on your lips before you could say anything else. Your eyes nearly crossed as you looked down your nose at it, and you heard his chuckle at what was most likely a silly look on your face. "I know I don't have to do anything, Y/n. I needed some time to clear my thoughts and untangle all of my feelings. I want this. I want you."

Over your time spent with Harry, you'd come to realize he had expressive eyes. While he kept a lot to himself and didn't share much unless it was through songwriting, his eyes said everything. This close to his face, you could see the honesty, the earnestness. You decided to believe him, to believe in whatever had been forming between you since the first time you'd met.

Not holding back, you did lunge for him this time, but gently, seeing as he was so close. Harry seemed surprised by your sudden movements but didn't stop you as you took his face in your hands and kissed him for all he was worth. You felt his face slowly split into a grin as his hands roved up and down your back, as if he was finally reacquainting himself with your body. Or maybe it was that this kiss was different from all the others, with different expectations and intentions and promises for more.

"What happened to slow?" he asked, teasing as you nipped at his ear.

"Tell me to stop," you said, feeling out of breath.

He didn't, you knew he wouldn't, but that only made him grin even more. "I still want to do things properly," he told you, leaning back against the couch and taking you with so that you were on top of him, your body flush against his. "I want to take you out, I want to hold your hand and pull your chair out for you at dinner."

Resting on your elbows, you lightly traced the delicate planes of his face with your finger. Harry's eyes tracked your movements while he waited for you to answer, kissing the pad of your index finger when it passed over his lips. You smiled a little, unsure of where all this giddiness was coming from but hoping it wouldn't go away.

"I want that too," you murmured before kissing the tip of his nose. "But maybe that can start tomorrow."

Harry's hand came up to cradle the side of your face, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. Everything already felt different. New and fragile and breakable. So, so breakable.

"Your heart was glass, I dropped it," you'd written way back. You had the potential to break Harry's heart. But the notion that you wouldn't was so intrinsic in that moment, you felt like the only way you would crack the glass this time was by squeezing too hard, by liking him too much.

You didn't know what you would do if Harry would drop yours.

It was a terrifying thought, one that was too dreadful for the peaceful bliss taking over your apartment. Harry was looking at you like your hair was made of stars or pure sunlight, and it warmed every inch of you down to your bones as he rubbed his thumb back and forth across your cheekbone.

"I can get behind that," he said quietly.

After that, you finally relaxed. Your head found purchase on his chest, comfortable against the soft material of his sweatshirt despite the firmness of his body beneath you. You breathed in deep, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it all out in one soft exhale. With that breath, you felt the last of your doubts flutter away—for now, at least—allowing you to believe in the promise Harry offered you.

*.*

"Come on. If you're not going to let me go to work, you're gonna help me here."

You managed to untangle yourself from Harry, who pouted at you as he remained sprawled out on your bed. Leaving him there, you went to the front door to where you'd left your guitar case when you found him on your doorstep yesterday. Slipping your well-loved guitar from the case, you walked back over to Harry, who was now sitting up on the couch. His eyes tracked your every move as you made your way back over to him. His stare felt heated, causing a flush to your cheeks, but you ignored it as you settled on one end of the couch, resting the guitar in your lap.

"Looks like you already have something in mind," Harry said. He still sounded playful, but you knew he wasn't going to try and dissuade you from this. He was just as eager to write as a team as you were.

Writing without Harry while he was gone was strange. At first you thought you'd be fine, seeing as you'd preferred working in solitude most of your professional career. Yet when he left, you were unable to write. You found yourself looking for him, raising your head to ask what he thought of a melody when he wasn't there, thinking out loud as if he was still in the room to bounce ideas off of.

You'd missed him in more ways than one, that was certain. This new dynamic with Mitch had been good, fun even. You attributed your openness to teamwork to Harry, and now you were nearly finished with an album, a project you'd been part of from start to finish, something you'd never really been able to say before. You'd enjoyed going into the studio to work with Mitch, to share song ideas with Cam and see where she took them. If given the option, you would do it again in a heartbeat.

But something in you settled as you began to idly pluck at the strings of your guitar, Harry sifting through his duffle bag until he produced his leatherbound journal from it. You felt comfortable, complete, not an atom out of place as you began to sing the lyrics of a partial song you were going to work on with your team today.

"There is a town, somewhere down a country road," you sang softly. "I see it now, take it everywhere I go. The river sways, I can almost here it now. As if to say, 'You're not the only one who wants a way out.'"

"That's nice," Harry said, his thumb tapping against his knee in time with the music coming from your guitar. "Something new?"

"I've had the idea for a song about a small town for a while," you said, fingers still plucking at the guitar strings, though not with much intent while you spoke to Harry. "My hometown."

Nodding, Harry said, "You don't talk about your home much."

"Not much to say," you shrugged. "At least I thought so. Now I just keep thinking how so much has changed since I moved away. How much I've changed,"

"Good changes, I hope," he said.

You shrugged again, trying not to let the topic make you squirm. You normally didn't around Harry, but perhaps being away from him for so long had you shying away just a little. "Good and...neutral, I guess. Sometimes I feel like I've changed so much I can't even reconcile who I was then and the person I am now. Not really sure if that's a good or bad thing yet. To be determined, I suppose."

Harry processed the information quietly, letting the conversation end there. You fell into a comfortable silence as both of you played around with lyrics and melodies in your own heads. You eventually grabbed your own journal to jot notes down in, and at one point Harry took your guitar into his own lap to play around, humming quietly to himself.

His plucking of the strings slowly became something less abstract and more concrete, and it eventually became the backdrop to your thinking process. You liked the tune he played better than what you'd originally come up with, and you let it guide your pen as you jotted down words and phrases until you eventually had something that might've been a pre-chorus or a bridge. Shifting closer to Harry on the couch, you showed him what you had so far, hoping he'd be able to fill in the gaps like he normally could.

You rested your cheek on his shoulder as he took your journal and pen from your offering hands. For a minute, the only sound was the tapping of the pen in his hand in time with the melody he'd been playing moments ago. You watched with slow blinking eyes as he eventually began to scribble his own little notes beside yours, sometimes writing lyrics of his own and occasionally circling a word you'd written and putting a suggestion above it.

The scratching of pen on paper was an unusual lullaby, but sure enough, the warmth emanating from Harry's body and the familiarity of this moment, yet something precious and new blooming between you, was enough for your breaths to deepen, your blinks to become fewer and far between. Even after being on a plane all the way from Japan, the scent of Harry's cologne and whatever laundry detergent he used lingered on his clothes. It was so familiar, as much of a welcome home as him actually being here beside you.

Breathing in deep, you huddled closer to Harry. Feeling your movements at his side, Harry shifted so that you were leaning against him more comfortably, his body solid yet soft beneath your cheek. "I missed this," you murmured, the words clinging together as you inched closer and closer toward sleep. "I missed you."

There was no stiffening of his posture at the words, no hesitation or uncertainty as he said, "I missed you too."

*.*

"Don't leave again," Y/n said.

Harry was pretty sure she was already half asleep, was sure she wouldn't even remember this conversation when she woke up in a couple of hours. But even so, the words made him pause, the pen in his hand jerking almost imperceptibly.

Y/n hadn't brought up his departure since he'd come back yesterday. Even now, she didn't sound resentful, though that could've been the fact that she was seconds away from falling asleep, but Harry didn't think so. Yet in her current limbo between states of consciousness, she revealed something that she probably wouldn't have if she'd been fully awake.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you by going," he said, and he knew he was a bastard for saying it when she was seconds from falling asleep.

A deep breath, then another, then another.

"Don't leave me again," was all she said in reply, perhaps all she could muster just before unconsciousness finally settled over her like a blanket.

Harry's heart clenched. Don't leave me again, she told him. He'd learned rather quickly that despite all that she'd been through, Y/n hid a gentle heart behind all those walls she put up. A heart that had been battered and bruised and hidden away after so much unhappiness. Harry realized early on in their semi-friendship that he never wanted to be the reason for another wall between Y/n and the rest of the world; he wanted to be someone she could entrust to protect her gentle soul, to be someone who helped her realize she was much more fierce than she knew.

Knowing he'd caused her pain by leaving dug at him, even if leaving was in some ways very necessary. Harry needed that distance, that time away to clean up the mess his ex had left in him. Nothing about his previous relationship's demise was simple, and the things he'd begun to feel for Y/n while still trying to untangle himself from his ex only complicated things. Harry knew it would be a disservice to both himself and Y/n if he jumped into something he wasn't ready for. He felt horrible that night she'd laid all her cards on the table before him. He knew that it had taken a lot to state what she wanted from him so plainly, to realize that she was still deserving of more after what she'd been through. And Harry had to offer the same honesty, even if it was something even he didn't want to hear.

But it had been the right thing. For both of them. Of that he was sure. Harry had done a lot of introspecting, had allowed himself to simply be alone in a way he hadn't been for a long time. His last relationship was perhaps the most significant, but it was one in a rather long list of failed attempts to find love. His friends often teased him for not knowing how to not be in a relationship, and after this last breakup, he realized how right they were.

Harry liked Y/n. He was fascinated by her talent as a songwriter and enamoured by the person she was outside the studio. He liked her chunky patterned sweaters and the array of rings on her fingers that changed from day to day. He liked that she wasn't perfect, that she was shy to an almost stubborn degree, that he had to work hard to piece together who she was bit by bit until a beautiful mosaic was laid out in front of him.

But he needed to know that he knew how to be alone before giving himself over to her entirely. Who was he outside of a romantic relationship? Harry honestly had no idea, and while that had never even so much as itched his brain before, it terrified him after things ended with his ex. He owed it to himself to try to stand on his own two feet, to live on his own and know that he could be content to do so. He didn't need a relationship to be happy, that was what he set out to discover.

And once he did. Once he lived and wrote songs and got coffee and ate by himself, and didn't feel like an utter disaster, he knew he'd be okay.

Harry enjoyed himself in Japan. He'd committed himself to this soul-searching endeavor and actually came out on the other side of it pleased with himself. And at the end of it all, when he knew a relationship with Y/n wasn't something he needed but something he wanted, he knew he was ready to go home. He wanted her a lot, to be fair, so much so that he often wrote about her, and talked about her to the few friends he made in Japan. But being alone didn't kill him, and he was able to see that for himself the two months he was gone.

He left his feelings for his ex in Japan, letting every last bit of baggage he'd been quietly carrying around with him slide off his shoulders, holding onto those precious little blossoms of feeling for Y/n and bringing them home, right to her doorstep.

The plan hadn't been to go straight to her apartment, but that was where he told his driver to go when he slid into the backseat of the sleek black car his manager had sent to pick him up. Harry was actually supposed to go home and rest so he could meet with his label and discuss the progress of his album, but he stayed at Y/n's place anyway. He knew these next few months as the album went into recording and production mode wouldn't leave much time to spend alone with Y/n, and he needed these fleeting moments. He needed to hear all about the new album she was helping to write and what she and Buddy Holly had gotten up to while he was gone. He needed to kiss her, to touch her, to let her fall asleep against him while they wrote a song about a small town.

"I won't, I promise," Harry murmured, even though he knew Y/n was already asleep.

It was perhaps a promise to himself. He knew Y/n would never be that vulnerable, wouldn't reveal just how much she cared for him if she'd been entirely conscious. She'd been forgiving, if not a little hesitant when he showed up on her doorstep, but she'd never resented him for leaving. At least he thought she didn't. She'd been understanding when he left, but in her sleepy state, he saw a little bit of the hurt he'd inflicted by leaving, by rejecting her desire for something more with him.

Harry knew he'd done it for the right reasons, but guilt curled in his chest at the thought of hurting Y/n. He would commit himself to not doing it again, to be someone worthy of her vulnerability. Harry was aware of how precious it was for Y/n to open herself up to him like this. He wouldn't take that gift for granted.

Shifting around a bit, Harry took Y/n into his arms and stood up. He padded down the carpeted hallway to her bedroom, where a large, four-poster bed with a mountain of pillows and one stuffed animal lay on. He set her down on white sheets with little red polka dots, pulling up the covers over both of them. Y/n curled into Harry immediately, and he didn't even bother trying to shove away the warmth that spread through him.

With Y/n's cheek squished adorably against his chest, Harry rested his arm behind his head as his eyes flitted about her bedroom.

He'd been inside it a handful of times, but it never failed to amaze him, because for someone so convinced they were undeserving of love, they sure loved heart decorations. Retro Valentine hearts were mounted on one wall, twinkly lights dangling between them; pink and red heart-shaped candles remained unlit on her vanity, a heart-shaped guitar on a stand next to it. Everything centered around something pink or red—the sheets, the pillows, the jewelry dishes and mirrors, even the stuffed bunny under her pillow that Harry knew Y/n slept with, even if she wouldn't admit it.

It was a mystery he'd yet to solve, but he imagined that would come in time.

Soon enough, Harry's own eyes began to droop. He nestled deeper into the bed, trying not to completely drape himself over Y/n. They'd never actually spent the night in the same bed before last night. Sometimes they'd fall asleep together on the couch, but this was different. Last night, they'd collapsed into bed after staying up late talking, nearly well into the morning. There had been no tangled limbs or breaths keeping time because they slept so close together, just two people in dire need of sleep.

In some ways, Harry wondered if it was too much as they were only just beginning to explore this thing between them, but he couldn't make himself leave. He turned over so his back was to her, trying to provide a modicum of space should Y/n want it, but not even a minute later, an arm snaked around his waist, a cheek pressed against his back as one of her legs slotted between his.

It was safe to say Harry fell asleep with a small grin and a full heart.

*.*

The following weeks flew by, and you saw Harry every single moment that you could.

Now that his album was in the later stages of production, he was constantly in meetings for promotion—release dates, interviews, live performances, and concept art for the album. You stayed out of those conversations, as you had your own projects to complete and deadlines to meet. But you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious. You'd never been part of those conversations before, as you merely wrote your songs and sold the demos to artists or bands. Seeing an album from start to finish was intriguing, though perhaps part of the reason was the hand you played in it and how important Harry was to you.

But even with all of that going on, Harry stayed true to his word.

He made every moment count. Suddenly there were flowers on top of the grand piano when you entered your studio, and he stopped by whenever he could. Each petal, each little note attached to the bouquets, filled your stomach with butterflies. And after you were both done for the day, Harry invited you over to cook dinner and listen to records. The atmosphere was different than before Harry left, a more romantic feel in the air as you sat across from each other, the warm glow of candles the only lighting in the room.

With the public attention Harry tended to get, you both agreed to keep things quiet for now. You'd always preferred anonymity, and although you knew your relationship would eventually become public, you wanted it to stay between you and Harry and your friends and family. Hopefully in the future, when this precious thing between the two of you wasn't so new, you would feel more comfortable. Until then, it would be secret dates and romantic dinners from home, but that didn't make it feel any less special or real.

It didn't take long for your friends to notice, though.

You and Harry didn't have much to hide in front of Sylvia and the rest of the people who made up your little group, but neither you nor Harry really went out of your way to tell anyone about the slight change since he had come back from Japan.

One night, Sylvia decided to switch up the usual gatherings from game night to a night at a karaoke bar. You didn't mind. In fact, you loved watching everyone drink and take up a mic in the private room that had been rented out. Harry stayed by your side most of the night, an arm wrapped around your waist, his thumb subtly sneaking beneath the hem of your patchwork top to graze your skin and leave goosebumps in its wake, and a neat tequila in his other hand, your leather jacket draped over his arm after he insisted on carrying it for you. You opted for a margarita, sipping on it idly while you went between talking to Harry and watching the chaos unfold in front of you.

"What do you say, are we up next?"

"We?" you asked incredulously. "You go. I've actually been wanting to see you perform."

Harry chuckled, his nose brushing against your temple. "Come on, love. For me?"

You both knew you had a soft spot when Harry pleaded with you. Just one more hour at his place, just one more kiss, getting his favorite takeout, all of it just required a slight widening of his eyes and him saying, "Pleeeease," or, "For me?" as he nuzzled your cheek with his nose, and he had you. It was mostly harmless, but just like all the other times, it was working now.

"I don't know..." you said anyway, a small grin creeping its way onto your face. Harry only doubled down, which was exactly your goal.

"Please? I'll make it worth your while."

So that was how you ended up in front of the rest of your group of friends, a mic in your hand as you waited for Harry to pick the song. When the opening chords sounded through the speakers, you beamed, looking over at him with raised brows. Harry just sauntered over to you with a small grin, dancing over to you in that silly way of his that you learned was a unique trait he possessed.

"Islands in the Stream" was one of the songs the two of you had bonded over the last few months. You'd played it for him on the drive to Buddy Holly's favorite dog park, and the two of you sang it most car rides ever since.

Harry started the song, and you joined in, keeping your eyes on him for most of it. He definitely had more stage presence than you did, which you were fine with, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy yourself. Harry's eyes were on you the whole time too, his hip bumping against yours and spinning you around occasionally.

By the time it was over, there were cheers all around, and not just because Harry kissed you at the end. You'd made it all of two steps off the makeshift stage in the private room before you were tugged into a corner away from everyone else.

"What the hell was that?"

Sylvia was looking at you with wide, surprised eyes, though a grin stretched her cheeks. You couldn't hide your blush, opting to take the drink that Harry handed you once he found you again. "What?"

"You—You two are unbelievable," she laughed. "So this is real now? You two aren't acting like children anymore and pretending you aren't in love with each other?"

Trust Sylvia to make things between you and Harry awkward. Both of you laughed, though yours was more nervous because she'd revealed a truth you weren't quite ready to accept. Harry merely draped a hand over your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. "Looks like it, doesn't it?"

*.*

"You look nervous," you said, taking Harry's hand that rested on the gear shift.

"Me? Never," Harry insisted, though he gripped your hand a little too tightly for you to believe it.

"It's just one brother," you said, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders.

You wouldn't lie to him and say meeting all three of your brothers at once would've been a walk in the park. But this was just Andrew, who was only in town for a night. You were pretty sure Hayden and Evan sent Andrew to investigate your relationship with Harry. For that exact reason, you hadn't divulged much to any of your brothers. After the whole, "Are you sure you're not menstruating" incident, you'd been giving Hayden the cold shoulder, so you knew for a fact that he'd enlisted Andrew's help to, at the very least, get back in your good graces, and hopefully get a little intel on your budding relationship.

"Andrew's harmless, I promise," you said. "He's about as threatening as a puppy."

Harry chuckled as he pulled into the trendy bar you had agreed to meet your brother at. "See, I want to believe you, but I've seen your brother play hockey, so...I don't."

Leaning across the center console, you kissed his cheek, quickly wiping away the lip gloss you'd left behind. Even in the dim lighting of the car, you saw Harry blush, which made you nudge him with your nose playfully. "I'll keep him in line, I promise."

You led Harry inside the bar, entering through a side door to remain relatively unnoticed, neck craning for your brother. Andrew wasn't hard to spot, his long arms waving back and forth from a tall table tucked in the corner of the bar. Squeezing Harry's hand once, you walked over to where your brother stood by waiting with open arms.

"How's my little sister?" Andrew asked as he squeezed the living daylights out of you.

You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to remind him you were older. Instead, you stepped back and introduced him to Harry. For all his nerves, Harry didn't show it as he shook Andrew's hand and asked how he was doing. Even when you knew your brother squeezed his hand too hard, Harry just smiled and sat down on the barstool.

Things went surprisingly well. Despite your earlier reassurances, you'd been a little nervous about the questions Andrew might ask, ones not necessarily thought up by him, but by the brothers who were absent tonight.

"So, Harry, where do you see this relationship with my sister going? I noticed she didn't introduce you as her boyfriend."

Perhaps you'd spoken too soon.

"Andrew, seriously?" you said, kicking him under the table. "Tell Evan to butt out."

"Evan's not—"

"Oh please," you said. That question had your oldest brother written all over it. "Andrew, you leave our brothers out of this or I'll tell Harry what they used to call you in high school."

Blushing, Andrew backed down immediately, a flush crawling up his neck. You didn't like stooping to your brothers' level, usually the silent treatment got your brothers to grovel after pissing you off, but they really couldn't be surprised when you did from time to time. You learned from the best after all.

Clearing his throat, Harry broke up the stare down you and Andrew had been locked in. "Um, to answer your question, I think we both—not to speak for you, Y/n—but I think we both see this evolving into something more, we just haven't had that conversation yet."

His words filled you with warmth. You'd been thinking the same—you wanted more from Harry when he came back, and things had progressed from there. You didn't think boyfriend and girlfriend titles were far off, but now that you knew where you and Harry both stood, you were okay with taking things slow.

Not that Andrew, or your other brothers, for that matter, needed to know that.

The rest of the night went much better. Andrew eased up and was finally able to ask questions that had nothing to do with the intimate details of your relationship with Harry, and when Harry began asking Andrew about playoffs, it was all your brother could do to not talk about hockey.

Your brother left you and Harry in the parking lot with a final farewell of, "You're alright, Harry Styles, and you," he said facing you with a pointed stare. "Stop ignoring Hayden, please. You know how he gets when you don't give him attention."

Huffing, you said, "I'll think about it."

Andrew grinned. Your brothers were a lot of things, but from the moment you became a part of the family, you were a little princess to all of them. Evan, Hayden, and Andrew had their moments, but they never liked to make you too mad. Most of the time. Still, you knew Andrew, and you knew he liked to be the unspoken, "favorite brother."

Harry took you home, his hand in yours the whole way back. Neither of you said anything, unwinding from the interesting night. It honestly could've gone a lot worse, in your opinion. Andrew really was the least of your worries.

Like a gentleman, Harry walked you to the door when you got home. You held back from unlocking your apartment and stepping inside despite the cold, taking his hand in yours. "I'm sorry if things were a little tense tonight."

Harry shook his head. "You really have them wrapped around your finger, you know that?"

"They have good intentions. They just...they were all I had for a long time. They're protective. Especially Evan."

Growing up, your brothers were pretty much your whole family. You were all bonded by the same shitty father, growing up raising and protecting each other. You knew the questions and the protective attitudes came from a good place, especially after the way things broke down with Gavin and his family. Evan saw how much it affected you, and probably just didn't want to see you get hurt again.

"Well, I'm glad. Even if they do slightly terrify me."

"They're big pushovers," you said with a laugh. "And like you said, they're wrapped around my finger. You'll be fine, I promise."

Harry smiled, tipping your chin up. "Yeah? You promise?"

"Mhmm," was all you could manage as he began to kiss your neck, a chill that had nothing to do with the brisk weather licking down your spine. The excitement that surged through you almost had you leaping into his arms. You settled for wrapping your arms around his neck. "I know we've been taking things slow, but I—I wouldn't mind it."

"You wouldn't mind what?" Harry teased, pulling away slightly when you tried to kiss him. "Might need to do a little better than that if you want me to be your boyfriend."

Everything was so easy with Harry. The playful teasing, the serious conversations, getting drinks with your overprotective brother, all of it. You hadn't wanted someone this much since—well, since forever. Harry just made you so happy, and you wanted to chase that feeling, not hide from it. You spent way too much time hiding from life, from love.

Reaching up on your toes, you kissed him, your fingers curling around the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Harry backed you against the door to your apartment, the hum coming from his chest once your tongues brushed together reverberating through you. His cheeks were cold as you held them in your hands, and you wanted nothing more than to haul him inside and never let him leave. But he had to be up early tomorrow and had to go back to his cat. You would make sure he'd regret leaving, though.

Eventually, you let go of him, your hands smoothing down the knit sweater he wore. You'd spent ages on the phone with him as he freaked out over what to wear. One coat was too flashy, but that t-shirt said he wasn't putting in any effort and didn't care about meeting a member of your family. On and on until you eventually made him turn the camera around to face his closet and pick something out for him. Black jeans and a black sweater with colorful depictions of the solar system eventually convinced him to finally leave the house. It was a little silly, but you appreciated how much effort he wanted to put into meeting Andrew, who absolutely would have reported back to Hayden and Evan what Harry wore, but Harry didn't need to know that.

"I don't want to be scared of feeling good anymore," you whispered. "I don't want to feel guilty for chasing something that feels right. Please tell me you feel the same."

"I do," Harry murmured. His forehead rested against yours as his hands found the perfect place on your waist, finding the sliver of skin revealed between your halter top and your jeans, and the look in his eyes was something so comforting, a safe assurance you hadn't felt in a long time.

Harry made you feel safe. He made you smile and knew things about you no one else did, not even your brothers, and he didn't seem put off by it. He understood your creative process, gave you space when you needed it, and was there for you when needed someone but didn't know how to ask.

You were still perhaps too scared to even think about the word love, but looking up at Harry then, you thought there might be a day where you felt brave enough to tell him how you really felt.

*.*

The club was packed tonight, bodies surrounding you on all sides. As someone bumped into you from behind, you gripped Mitch's arm on instinct, determined not to fall over or get swept up in the sea of people waiting for the band to start their set.

"Remind me why we're here again?" you asked, shouting over the crowd and thumping bass.

For a moment, you worried Mitch hadn't heard you, but then he shouted back, leaning in close so you could hear him. "Because they asked us to be here. We heard their demos, and you said they had potential. And—"

"Alright, alright. I get it. I just didn't think there'd be this many people."

"Kind of a good thing though, isn't it?" a voice said from behind you.

Turning around, you couldn't help the wide grin that took over your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mitch give you a pointed look, but you ignored it, throwing your arms around Harry. "You found us!"

"Course. I could spot my two best friends from a mile away."

Being regarded as Harry's friend made your stomach tighten despite knowing he didn't mean it that way, especially since you were around so many people. And yet, it had you overthinking.

Don't be stupid, you thought, blinking those thoughts away. Squeezing Harry's hand once, you let go. "Did you get into the venue okay?"

You, Harry, and Mitch talked to—talked at, more like—each other before the show, huddled together and trying not to draw attention to yourselves. Because of the packed venue, you and Harry were able to stand relatively close to one another, your hands brushing occasionally. With Harry so close to you like this and unable to kiss his cheek at the very least, and you could tell he was having the same struggle. He was pressed up against your back, at one point, then his arm was draped over your shoulders, and when the lights finally dimmed as the set began, he was as close as he could be, his arm wrapped around your waist as you watched the band perform.

The band played music that was loud, full of heavy base lines and guitar riffs and drum solos that had the crowd jumping and jostling around. Harry was a steady force at your back until you eventually joined in with the audience, dancing along to the music beside Mitch.

In the few weeks you and Mitch worked on writing Cam's album together, you'd ended up spending more time outside of the studio as well. It was almost always music related, the two of you going out to see live performances in some form or another—local bands, shows at the Troubador and the Whiskey, performers just starting out in dive bars. It was something you typically did on your own, a good way to discover new artists and experience different sounds, and Mitch was more than happy to join you, showing you a couple of his favorite haunts, ones that he played in from time to time.

It was nice to get out of your apartment, to hang out with someone who appreciated discovering new music as much as you did. Mitch had helped you expand your horizons and had even taught you a thing or two about playing drums after you were particularly enthralled by a grunge band. It had become part of your routine as much as writing in the studio had—going out once or twice a week to find new talent and sometimes meeting up with the artist or band afterward to see if they were interested in collaborating. That wasn't always the goal, but there were moments when you couldn't help yourself.

"You were right. They do have potential," Mitch said. Both of you were buzzing after the performance, talking animatedly about the band and their set.

"I know! And I really liked their sound. There was something so nostalgic about it, but not in a gimmicky way, you know?"

Harry walked a couple paces behind you and Mitch as you ambled down the sidewalk toward where you'd parked. He'd been quiet coming out of the show, but you didn't think anything of it.

You kept talking to Mitch, promising to stop by the studio for another drum lesson when you had the chance, or when he had the chance, more like. Now that Harry's album was less an idea and more a fully realized project with a release date, Harry and Co. had been pretty busy lately. And once the album finally came out...well, you'd cross that bridge eventually.

When Mitch was gone, headed home in his car, you walked a little further to your side-by-side with Harry. You leaned in close, not really caring if anyone saw. Even through the layers of his heavy coat, you could feel the warmth that he emanated naturally. You loved being tucked into his side or curled around him, or just being as close to him as possible, an alarming amount. The word "love" fluttered through your mind every now and again, but you swatted it away every time. It was much too soon, and while you'd made many strides, there were still parts of you that remained afraid.

Afraid of what would happen if you got too attached and things ended, afraid of the distance rapidly approaching once Harry's album came out, afraid of your inner saboteur. It was all there, lingering, waiting to strike at any moment.

"Good show, right?" you said to Harry, eager to shake off the dark turn your thoughts had taken. "Mitch and I have been wanting to see them for ages."

"Yeah," he said, his eyes remaining on the street ahead. Then, "I...I didn't realize you spent so much time with him while I was gone."

"I honestly didn't expect to, but he was still working in the studio. We made quite the team."

Because you were so close, you felt Harry's whole body stiffen. A split second too late, you realized your poor choice of words.

"I—I didn't mean—"

"It's okay, Y/n," Harry said, and he didn't sound mad at all. Maybe just a little hurt, but you had a feeling he was trying his best not to make you feel bad. "I can't be upset that you kept working when I left. That's silly of me."

"It's not," you assured. "I—You're kind of the reason I pushed myself to work with him, and others," you admitted.

"Really?"

Nodding, you said, "I've always worked on my own. Always. But then we started writing together and things just clicked, and when you left, I—I didn't want to deny myself the opportunity to make great music. I mean, you and your team were doing incredible stuff even before I came along. I guess I just wanted to be a part of something great in that way too. Mitch helped introduce me to a new artist and we collaborated on a project of our own. I didn't...I didn't want to go back to being alone again.

"But it isn't the same," you said, stopping Harry in his tracks. Looking up at him, you smiled, for no other reason than he was there and he was yours. "We...We work differently together. You have to know that."

Harry's responding grin was small. "It is quite magical, isn't it?"

Reaching up on your toes, you kissed him, your hand cupping his cheek gently. The kiss was slow, gentle, a reassurance for the both of you. When you leaned back, yours and Harry's cheeks were flushed as you grinned brightly at each other.

As you slid into the passenger seat of Harry's car, you said, "I can't believe you'd be jealous of Mitch."

Harry ducked his head bashfully. "Oh hush. I was not."

"He's your best friend, H," you giggled. "Not to mention very, very taken."

"I believe I mentioned it was silly, didn't I?"

Taking his hand, you kissed the top of it. "You did."

Harry peeled out of his parking space, promising to make it up to you as he handed his phone over to choose the playlist for the ride home.

When you unlocked his phone, the home screen wasn't what popped up. Instead, the messages app was open, a string of messages that hadn't been replied to yet, going back a few weeks.

Can we talk?

I miss you. I miss us.

The silent treatment is childish, H.

Please call me.

Your hands suddenly felt cold and clammy, and Harry's phone nearly slipped out of them and onto the floor.

"Everything okay?"

Harry's voice dragged you out of whatever headspace you'd been launched into. Looking up, you mustered a smile, hoping the car's darkness would mask how flimsy it truly was.

"Yeah. Fine," you said, your voice not sounding like your own.

Quickly exiting out of the app, you pulled up his music, choosing a playlist at random before setting his phone down in the cup holder.

You felt like you were on one of those theme park rides, the ones that reach the heights of tall buildings just to fall straight down. You felt weightless, but not in a good way. It was as if you were falling and there was nowhere safe to land. That feeling in your stomach only grew until you were sure you were going to be sick.

Harry continued on none the wiser, chatting about this and that. You weren't exactly sure what he said, his voice was suddenly white noise. But you must've given him coherent responses because he didn't question your behavior. The only time he did was when you didn't invite him up to your apartment.

"I'm just really tired," you managed to say. "One too many margaritas, I guess."

Not putting up too much of a fight, Harry grinned and gave you a kiss. Despite the dread you felt, it still filled you with butterflies. You cared for him so much you didn't know what to do with yourself sometimes. And now there was...this.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said, a sweet smile on his face.

He acted as if nothing was wrong, and it was convincing too. Almost to the point that you wanted to believe it too. Those messages were days old, save the most recent one, and Harry hadn't replied to any of them. That had to mean something.

Right?

*.*

After mentioning what you found to Sylvia, she demanded that what you needed was retail therapy. Shopping wasn't your favorite pastime, but you desperately needed a friend.

You met with her at an outdoor shopping mall, bundled up in your softest sweatshirt and puffy coat for comfort more than because of the weather. You hadn't wanted to go out at all today, or the last couple days since you saw Harry's messages. There had been an attempt to have Sylvia just come over so you could day drink together, but she wasn't having it.

So now you were wading through store after store, internally freaking out about where your relationship was headed. It was just getting off the ground, and now it was crumbling before your eyes. Harry was none the wiser, of course, but that was only because he was busy this week and you pretended to be busy because you weren't sure if you could keep it together in front of him. You needed a third-party perspective, a voice of reason before you sat down and talked to him about all this.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" Sylvia asked gently.

One thing you liked about Sylvia was that she was bold and brash and didn't try to mince her words, but you appreciated her tone now. Friend of Harry's first or not, she was here for you, and seeing as there weren't many people you could turn to, you needed her now more than ever. You could talk to your brothers, but you didn't want them to come out and hurt him. You would go to them if there was something serious going on.

"I...I thought we were finally on the same page," you said, and then it all came spilling out of you. You replayed that night in Harry's car as you combed through a rack of dresses. Sylvia was quiet through all of it, not saying anything until you were finished. "I don't know what to do. Is he—I never asked because it wasn't really my business, but he was clearly torn up over their break up. Do you think it's possible that he's not over her?"

Because that was what kept you up at night. Before he left, Harry hadn't been ready for a relationship. You knew there wasn't an exact timeline for healing a broken heart, but the seed of doubt had been planted, and now all you could think about was him leaving you for his ex. The thought terrified you. It made you want to run before you learned the truth, spare yourself the trouble of looking like an idiot.

But you called Sylvia instead, knowing running was not the best option, even if it was the most familiar.

"Oh, babe," she sighed. "I'm not going to lie, Harry was in love with her. They were...there's no other way to put it. They loved each other."

The whimper that escaped your lips was an accident, and when Sylvia heard it, she pulled you in for a hug. "He was in love with her," she repeated as she ran a soothing hand up and down your back. "I truly believe he's moved on Y/n. Harry wouldn't do that to you."

"But what about her?" you said. "She wants him back, and he—he didn't tell me that she's been reaching out, and I just can't help but feel like their history will win out."

"I don't think you realize how happy you make him," Sylvia said. "Yes, Harry loved her, but they broke up for a reason. I don't see him giving things a second go, especially now that he's with you. He's happy, Y/n. He's happy because you make him happy. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all this. You just have to sit down and hear him out."

"You really think so?"

"He lights up at the mere mention of your name. You—You're like the sun to him," Sylvia promised. "So don't run from this, okay? Talk to him. Hear him out. Make him sweat a little for keeping this from you, but you owe it to yourself to hear his side of things."

You nodded, feeling a little reassured by what she'd said. You wouldn't feel a hundred percent until you talked things out with Harry, but this is a good start. At the very least, it kept you from wanting to run and hide from all this.

Laughing a little, you wiped a stray tear from your eye. "You know, when you said you were Harry's life coach, I didn't imagine you'd end up being mine too."

"It's what I'm good for," she said. "Now, let's see about doing a little shopping, hm? Ooh! And maybe we get our nails done."

Looping her arm through yours, she dragged you into the next aisle, feeling lighter with every step you took.

*.*

"Where is he? I'll kill him!"

This was the third time you'd heard that in the last couple of hours.

"Stand down, Hayden," you said from beneath your mountain of blankets. "He's not here."

Your brother's eyes widened as he looked in your direction, as if he didn't expect the pile of blankets to speak. He stalked over to where Andrew and Evan were standing in front of you, taking on a perplexed disposition. None of your brothers had ever really seen you this way. All the pranks, all the times they royally pissed you off when you were younger, you never really let it get to you. You could tell that although they wanted to be here for you, they weren't entirely sure how.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Just let me know where he is, Y/n."

They were doing their best to help, and you knew you owed them answers. You did call them after all. Well, that wasn't entirely true. You called Evan, who proceeded to call Andrew because your younger brother was closest in proximity to you. And Andrew called Hayden because of course he did. It was sweet that they all dropped everything to come see you, but now you felt put on the spot.

And you knew Hayden would make good on his word, and your other two brothers would have no trouble helping him, and that wasn't exactly what you wanted.

"I ended things with Harry," you said quietly.

"You said as much in your text, Y/n," Evan said. "But what happened? It seemed like you guys were really happy."

The thought of last night's events replayed in your mind, bringing a fresh wave of tears to the surface. Taking a shuddering breath, you said, "I thought we were too."

It all started last night at this party Harry invited you too. Something about fundraising and live music and dancing, and he said it was the perfect opportunity to get dressed up and go out and not worry about being photographed. You agreed, wanting to put the text messages from his ex that had yet to be discussed far from your mind. You knew you should've said something, but you wanted to give Harry the opportunity to come clean himself. The fact that he hadn't kept you up at night, but you promised yourself—and Sylvia—that you would bring it up after the party.

"Just one more night of normalcy before we have this conversation," you assured her. It was all you wanted. Just one night where this cloud wasn't hanging over your head.

So you went. Harry picked you up in a sports car that usually sat in his garage, practically mauling you when he saw you in your dress. It was simple, but you felt great in it—a short black number with white ruffles at the top and bottom. With your hair blown out and curled to perfection, little pearl droplets hanging from your ears, you felt like a dream, and every time Harry's gaze fell on you to track your figure up and down, your entire body was filled with butterflies.

And the night carried on perfectly. You and Harry sipped on champagne and kept to yourselves most of the night. You didn't really know anyone, and he was perfectly happy to keep you all to himself, kissing your cheeks and neck whenever he could, his hand never leaving your waist for a moment. It was exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything that had been swirling around in your head the last few days. When Harry was dancing and spinning you around in and out of his arms in a corner of the event space, it felt like you were the only two people to exist. There was no way he had any lingering feelings for his ex when he was smiling so brightly and laughing as you spun him out and back into your arms.

And then...it all just fell apart.

"Harry?"

At the sound of the woman's voice, Harry dropped your hand, coming to an abrupt halt beside you. You looked up, confused by the tension that suddenly lined his shoulders, but when you looked at the women who'd come up to your little corner, you just knew.

"H—Hi." Harry sounded breathless, his eyes never leaving hers once. All you could do was watch it all unfold in slow motion, all you could feel was the loss of his touch now that his hand was no longer in yours.

You cleared your throat when Harry didn't say anything. It was as if you had to pull him from whatever trance he'd fallen into at the mere sight of her. Dread filled your belly as he seemed to remember where he was, as he remembered you were there, blinking as he embraced his ex and introduced her to you.

"This is my friend Y/n."

His words felt like a sucker punch, all the air stolen from your lungs. You knew you and Harry hadn't put a label on your relationship, but to hear him refer to you as his friend right in front of his ex was devastating.

Your heart was glass, I dropped it.

Was this what it felt like? You never imagined you would be in this position, you never thought you would love someone enough to feel like you were coming undone at the seams at this kind of rejection. But perhaps that was just the universe coming to collect after thoroughly breaking someone else's heart yourself.

"I—I need some air," you heard yourself saying, not even looking to see if Harry noticed you leave or if he was too caught up in seeing his ex.

You didn't just get air, you Ubered home, unable to handle everything rushing through you. That was when you texted Evan, who merely responded with, I'm on my way, and twenty-four hours later, he was there, along with Hayden and Andrew.

You explained to your brothers what happened briefly, doing your best to not go into detail so you wouldn't start crying uncontrollably, though you'd be surprised if you had any tears left. You mostly just felt defeated, almost as if deep down you knew the happiness wasn't meant to last.

"He's an idiot, Y/n," Andrew said, resting a hand on Buddy's head to scratch him behind the ears. Your dog had been resting by your side since you came back last night, somehow sensing your despair. "Don't let him steal your happiness."

You nodded, but only because you had nothing else to say. You knew your brother meant well, but you just didn't believe him. This was par for the course in your eyes. Of course, when you fell for someone, they chose someone else. Maybe you were destined to be on your own, maybe love was overrated.

"Do you need anything?" Evan asked you, Hayden standing next to you. You could tell that they didn't really know what to do in this situation but that they wanted to be there for you. It was sweet, but there really wasn't anything to do.

"I'm okay," you said, convincing no one. "I think I might just take a nap."

"We can take Buddy for a walk. Maybe grab some food while we're out," Evan said. "Andrew, why don't you stay here and make sure she doesn't text him."

You rolled your eyes. "I literally just said I was going to sleep—"

"On it," Andrew said, hopping up to take your phone from where it was resting on your kitchen counter and slipping it into his pocket.

It was utterly ridiculous, but you were sure that was what your brothers were going for. The four of you weren't the touchy-feely type, you never had been. But one thing your brothers could count on was their ability to make you smile, make you laugh. And that was maybe exactly what you needed.

Making good on your word, you retired to your room, but you didn't sleep a wink despite how exhausted you were. Instead, you stayed up listening to records, shared favorites of yours and Harry's, the ones you bonded over together. It was hard to imagine that after such deep connections, the number of stories shared and late nights talking over bottles of red wine. Harry meant so much to you, and it killed you to think you didn't mean as much to him.

At some point, you must've dozed off—your eyes fluttering shut to the sound of Joni Mitchell—because suddenly you were jolting awake with a start. Muffled shouts could be heard through your closed door, which could only mean one thing.

Taking a couple minutes to wake up a little more and bolster yourself for unwanted confrontation, you finally stepped out of your room. The voices grew louder as you walked down the hall—Andrew kept telling Harry to leave while Harry claimed he just wanted to talk to you. You weren't sure if you were ready for this conversation yet, but it was here whether you liked it or not, and it would probably be for the best before Evan and Hayden came back or the argument happening at your front door drew unwanted attention.

"You can let him in."

Your voice was quiet, but not unsteady, which came as a surprise to you. It surprised your brother and the person who would've been your boyfriend too, their argument ceasing immediately as they looked over at you.

"Y/n," Harry breathed.

For better or for worse, he looked about as awful as you felt. There were bags under his eyes, and he was in the clothes he wore to the party last night. His tan trousers were rumpled, belt missing; his satin shirt was heavily wrinkled, the buttons mismatched in the wrong holes. His hair was a mess too, as if he'd been tossing and turning all night.

You didn't like seeing him like this, hated it, in fact. This wasn't supposed to be yours and Harry's story. You thought both of you had experienced the heartbreak and had found each other on the other side of it. Now you felt like you were right back where you started, and you hated it.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Andrew said, glancing warily between you and Harry. "Hayden and Evan will be back soon—"

"It's fine, Andrew. I promise," you told him, stepping closer to the front door cautiously, worrying that getting too close would ensnare you in Harry's magnetic pull. One whiff of his cologne might send you right into his arms, where your heart still thought it was safe. "Keep them occupied for me?"

It was clear that Andrew didn't agree with you on this decision. He stood there by the door for a long while, trying to assess your mental state. But he finally relented, taking a few steps toward you to hug you tightly. "Don't be afraid to give him hell," he murmured in your ear. Then, after passing back your phone, he left, but not before glaring murderously in Harry's direction.

When you and Harry were finally alone, your apartment was silent for the first time in hours. Almost too silent. Harry just stared at you with this broken look in his eyes, and you...you couldn't dredge up the energy to start this conversation. It was clear Harry didn't either. You watched as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, but you had no desire to help him out.

"Can we sit?" he finally asked, his voice sounding tired and raw.

Unable to handle the look in his those devastated green eyes, you looked down at where your sweatshirt engulfed your hands. "I'd prefer it if we didn't."

Sitting meant forced proximity, and you were already pushing yourself to have this conversation. This distance between you and Harry would be where you drew the line.

"Oh," Harry said, sounding surprised. "Okay. I—I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/n."

"For what exactly?" you asked, not expecting the bitterness in your tone.

"For making it seem like we were just friends in front of her, for freezing last night. I—She'd been texting me the last few days and I've ignored her, but I didn't expect to see her."

"I know about the texts," you found yourself saying.

It was clear Harry hadn't expected that. A look of confusion passed over his face as he asked, "Wh—Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you?" you said, unable to hide the hurt, the betrayal.

"It was nothing, and I didn't want to bring any attention to it. I thought if I just ignored her enough, she would stop, and she did eventually stop, but then I saw her last night, and I didn't want to make her feel worse by showing her I'd moved on—"

"But you haven't," you said. "You're...protecting her. Sparing her feelings while fucking me over. I—I could've gotten over the texts. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt because you hadn't responded to her. But watching you call me your friend was such a slap in the face."

"I'm sorry, I fucked up. I know I did," Harry said, tears pooling in his eyes.

You could tell he meant it. You knew he realized what he'd done was shitty, but could you move on from it?

"I believe that you're sorry," you said. At that, something like hope flickered in his face, but you snuffed it out just as quickly as it came. "But I also think you still have unresolved feelings for her. And I—I don't want to be second to you. Not in that way."

"So that's it?"

You knew Harry like the back of your hand. You knew what the little quiver of his lip meant, understood the tight clench of his fists around the hem of his shirt. You could read every line of emotion on his face, and you wondered if he could pick you apart the same way.

"You know, all this time we've bonded over our respective heartbreak as if our pain was the same," you said, more to yourself than to him. "But what I'm realizing now, what I started to realize last night, was that mine stemmed from feelings of inadequacy, of never being enough for someone. I broke up with someone because I wasn't in love with them, and that devastated me. But you...no matter how the relationship fell apart or who ended it, you loved her, and she loved you. That feeling doesn't just wash away with the evening tide."

"Y/n—"

"And that's...that's okay, you know?" you continued. "You loved her. Love her. That's not a bad thing. But—But I'm in love with you too, and I can't—I'm not going to compete with someone who already has your heart. I won't."

Tears kissed your cheeks as you blinked. Your hands shook, but your voice was clear. Harry could deny it all he wanted, but you saw the truth laid bare before you. You weren't the only person occupying space in his heart, and after everything you'd been through, you didn't want to settle for anything less than what you deserved.

"That's not true, Y/n," Harry implored. He looked a little frantic now that he knew your mind was practically made up. "I fucked up, I know that. I saw her, and I froze. It was just—"

An instinct, a gut reaction, that was what he didn't want to say. "I don't want someone's initial reaction to be to let go of my hand," you said softly, wiping away a tear with a sleeve-covered hand. "I want—"

Your mom's ring in your pocket, my picture in your wallet. That song you'd written all those months ago, the one that held your deepest regrets and insecurities, all the little things you'd run from. You didn't want to run from it anymore. You thought you found someone to run toward, but you were wrong.

"I don't want what we have to be over, Y/n," Harry pleaded.

I don't believe you, you thought, and you couldn't be with him if you didn't trust his sincerity. "I think you need more time," you said instead of voicing what you felt.

"There's no convincing how much I feel for you, is there?" he said, sounding resigned to the fate that had come to pass.

You shook your head, your heart begging you to hold onto him and not let go, to drag him to bed and sleep until you both forgot. But you didn't do any of those things. "No. Not right now."

Harry finally bridged the gap between you and him. He kept a sliver of distance, the only contact he made being gentle fingers tilting your chin so you'd meet his eye. There was so much emotion swirling there, and you longed to kiss away all the anguish and pain until only love was left, but that wasn't in the cards. Not today, or in the days that would follow.

"I promised you that I wouldn't leave again," Harry said, his gaze unrelenting. Your brow furrowed, not recalling when he made that promise, but he continued before you could ask. "Not in the ways that count anyway, but I intend to keep that promise, Y/n. If you want space, I'll give it to you, but don't think for one second that I won't spend every single moment we're apart wishing we were together. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that's what it takes."

It was a surprise your body didn't turn to jello on the spot, that Harry couldn't hear the steady thump of your heart as it beat wildly in your chest. He said all the right things, every perfect word, but right now, that was all they were. And you didn't have it in you to believe him.

"I'm sorry that I did this to us, to you," he said. "I'll never not be sorry. "

Harry stood there, his fingers gingerly holding your chin, for a few moments longer. It was as if he was imploring you to read the message in his eyes, to understand everything he wasn't saying, but you just didn't have the energy.

When he finally left, one last promise that wasn't giving up on you and him yet on his lips before the door clicked shut, all the warmth in your body went with him. You briefly thought of all the times you clung to him to warm up, slipping his hands beneath his shirts and sweaters and nuzzling your face in his neck.

That last touch of Harry's fingers to your chin wasn't enough, not nearly enough, and now he was gone. The person you fell in love with, who knew you better than anyone else in the world, walked out the door, head held high as if this wouldn't be the last time you'd be standing so close.

You weren't convinced. Not when all your mind wanted to replay was his hand dropping yours, his dismissal of your relationship, and his disregard for your feelings to protect those of his ex.

*.*

You didn't see Harry in the weeks that followed, but you weren't sure if that had more to do with him working on his album. Sylvia kept you semi-updated, even though you insisted you were fine with not knowing what he was up to. It was a lie, of course, and she saw right through it, letting you know when Harry was gone for music video shoots, recording and producing music, album cover shoots, and meetings with his label.

Part of you was grateful he wasn't around because it made keeping your distance easier. After everything that happened, you convinced yourself Harry didn't know what he wanted, even if he claimed he was. The proof had been right in front of you, though, clear as day. There were unresolved feelings lingering in the corners of Harry's heart and mind, and he needed to deal with them or get back together with his ex, but you wanted no part of it.

That wasn't to say Harry wasn't on your mind. He was there constantly, taking up space and making you lose focus while writing or walking your dog. You'd never been in love before, and now that everything had imploded, you didn't know how to make it stop.

“Y/n?”

Blinking, you looked up to where Mitch stared at you, an acoustic guitar in his lap. You weren't sure why you agreed to meet with him for a writing session. You hadn't written much since everything fell apart, save the occasional depressing poem, but when Mitch reached out, you figured it was as good a time as any to get back to work and start writing again.

In theory, it was a good idea, but your heart just wasn't in it. It was thousands of miles away shooting a music video.

"Sorry, I thought this would be a good idea, but my head is just all over the place," you said, closing your notebook that only had a few disconnected lines written down.

"I'm sorry about everything," Mitch said. "I know it probably doesn't mean much coming from me, but he really does care about you. Like a lot."

"I know," you said dejectedly. "But he...he still loves her, I think. Or cares for her more than he lets on. Maybe even more than he realizes."

That night, you realized you had a losing hand. You didn't want to run like you'd done with Gavin, but you didn't want to fight either. You just felt...defeated, as if the fickle promise of love had bested you again.

"I can promise you he doesn't, but I know that's between you and him," Mitch said. Nodding to the journal in your lap, he asked, "Can I see?"

Shrugging, you handed it over. At this point, Mitch had learned a lot about you by being your writing partner, so you didn't mind him flipping through it. And honestly, there wasn't much to show anyway. A couple of measly lines did not a song make.

Mitch was quiet as he looked over the few things you'd written down, his expression gloriously passive as always. Since you started writing together, you'd struggled to read his expressions, not knowing what he thought until he voiced his opinion.

"Well, shit, kid," Mitch murmured on an exhale.

"What?"

Mitch looked up, one brow raised. Then, he began to read lines from your journal. "You've got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes...My hand's a risk I fold...Test of my patience, there's things that we'll never—"

"Hey wait a minute, that's not from today," you said, reaching for your journal. Mitch managed to land on one of your poems from a few days ago. That definitely wasn't meant to be part of today's writing session. "Give that back."

"This is good, Y/n. There's a song in here," Mitch insisted.

"Oh please. That's a terribly depressing poem fueled by a bottle of wine."

He pinned you with a stare, but you ignored it, and he eventually let it go. You didn't stay in the studio much longer after that, realizing that not much was going to come out of this session. And Mitch had to leave too, having to catch a redeye to London. "We're finishing up the album there," he explained.

It dawned on you then that you would be alone again. After becoming so used to having a partner of some kind while writing, too. It shouldn't have affected you so much, but it did. Somehow you'd grown to appreciate company while you were writing, and now your two favorite writing partners were leaving. They were the only two you'd ever had, but as history had shown, you weren't a huge fan of change.

You'd grown comfortable, but now the ground was shaking and crumbling beneath you. Though perhaps that should've been the familiar feeling.

"Can I keep the song?" Mitch asked on your way out of the studio. "I have an idea."

This time, you could read what was on your friend's face. And you could sense it, somehow. He wanted to show it to Harry. For the album, or because Mitch felt Harry needed to read the words. At this point, you were emotionally drained, and you weren't going to be there when Harry read your little poem, anyway. What did it matter?

"That's fine," you said, tearing the page out of your journal. "Don't be a stranger, okay? We can still collaborate over the phone or voice notes or whatever."

You thought that was where you and Mitch would leave things, but then he asked, "Do you think you'll ever write with him again?"

Harry was so much more than the person you were in love with. He was your friend, your first ever writing partner, someone you'd confided in. But he was also the person who made you feel betrayal and heartache. You didn't know how to reconcile those two people.

"I don't know," you said honestly. "I hope so."

*.*

There wasn't a single moment where Harry didn't think of Y/n while they were apart. He'd done what she'd asked of him, gave them the space to heal and settle. Harry understood where she was coming from, and he knew that he'd hurt her more than he ever imagined he would.

Everything fell apart so completely, too quickly for him to even pick up the pieces.

He knew he should've told her about the texts the minute he received them, and he couldn't really pinpoint why he didn't. It was in no way to hurt Y/n, or to protect his ex; honestly, he should've just deleted them as they came, but he didn't, and things only went downhill from there.

Harry didn't want space, he knew what he wanted, who he wanted. But he also knew that what he'd done, how he behaved, gave Y/n every right to push him away and not trust him. All he knew was that he'd never regretted anything more than seeing the devastated look on her face when they ran into his ex.

He couldn't take back what he'd done, all he could do was try to make things right the second Y/n gave him the opportunity. Thankfully, recording and producing his second album kept him busy enough to give her the space she'd asked for. Had he liked being so far away from her, both physically and emotionally? No. Hell no, but he just put everything he was feeling into his music, let it fuel him as he and his team found the sound he was going for with this project.

It wasn't until weeks after they'd ended things that he heard from Y/n. Really, Mitch had passed a folded up piece of paper with song lyrics on it and said it was Y/n's, but Harry was so desperate to get something from her that he'd counted it. "I have an idea for it. I just need you to finish it," Mitch had said.

"Finish it?" Harry asked as he unfolded the paper.

To him it looked like a poem, but Mitch seemed to be convinced it was a song. He read over it briefly, then again, and again and again until he was standing in front of his friend for an awkward amount of time.

"She's speaking to you in this," Mitch explained. "It could be a kind of conversation."

The idea had perplexed him, and at first, Harry had said no. It wasn't until the next evening when he was alone in his flat that he considered the folded piece of paper. He thought about all the songs he'd written with Y/n, the thoughts and feelings they'd shared with each and every lyric and melody. This wasn't the same, not even close. He just wanted things to go back to normal; he wanted to relive the moments where Y/n would sit with her guitar, her journal and his in his lap as they compared notes and ideas.

But this would have to do for now.

He didn't try to get in Y/n's head, to try to understand what she might've been feeling at the time she wrote the poem, though he had a pretty good idea. Harry merely did what Mitch suggested and responded to the lines already written down, adding them in where he saw fit.

"Put a price on...emotion, I'm looking for...something to buy," he murmured, quickly scribbling the words down before he forgot them. "I don't want to fight you, and I don't want to sleep in the dirt."

Writing this song gave Harry the opportunity to finally let go. Through it he was able to admit that he had been clinging to a crisp trepidation, a fear of giving all of himself over to Y/n with abandon. For a number of reasons—that things with Y/n would end up in flames like all his other relationships (check), that he didn't even know what love looked like anymore after so many failed attempts at finding it, that he wasn't good enough to be someone Y/n deserved, , that he was going to lose her forever if he didn't pull himself together enough for her.

By the time Harry was done, he felt dejected. The finished song was sad, too sad. It was about heartache and fear, it sounded finite. And that wasn't what he wanted his story with Y/n to be.

We'll be fine, he wrote before quickly crossing it our. Fine. Fine. Finefinefinefinefine—

"We'll be a fine line," Harry finally murmured.

He spent the rest of the night figuring out arrangements and melodies, all of it coming together in his head almost faster than he could write it all down. The album was pretty much in the final stretch. At this point, he and his team were finishing up recordings and working on the promotional aspects of the release, but he knew it down to every atom of his being that this song had to be on the album. It was the culmination of everything he'd experienced and felt, every emotion he'd embraced and shied away from. All of it crashed into each other in a blaze of horns and strings.

And maybe when he finally finished working through the main melody on his guitar, something soft and melancholic, yet soothing and hopeful, he should've gone right to sleep. He honestly should've been exhausted after the emotional whirlwind he'd been wrapped up in. Yet he somehow had his phone in his hands, his thumb hovering over a contact before he eventually hit the call button.

"Harry? What—Isn't it like four in the morning over there?"

Harry couldn't stop his breath from hitching when he heard Y/n's voice. He'd missed her so much it physically hurt sometimes. Part of him thought she wouldn't answer his call, but when she did, his entire body sagged with relief.

"I miss you," he said, not caring how pathetic he sounded. "I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you, and you probably were just being nice by suggesting the whole space thing when you really want nothing to do with me ever again—"

"Harry," Y/n said, her voice gently but firm. "Slow down, love."

Harry could've cried at the softness in her tone let alone the term of endearment. All he'd wanted for the last few weeks was to just hear her voice, her his name on her lips in a way that didn't sound hurt or disappointed.

"You were right," he told her. "I—I was holding back from you, and that wasn't fair to either of us, but especially to you. Y/n, I—I'm so sorry."

"I know you are," she whispered. "I think...I think I just wanted you to want me as much as I did."

"I do," Harry promised. "I know I haven't given you much to believe me, but Y/n the way I feel about you is so different than I've ever felt about anyone, and I think part of me was scared of that too after such a tremendous breakup."

For a moment, Y/n was silent over the phone, her breaths filling up his ear and making him long for the moments they spent huddled up in bed together.

"I know...I know we've been here before, but do you think we could try things again?" he asked. He almost didn't want to know, believing that perhaps ignorance really was bliss. But Y/n had put herself out there so many times, had taken so many risks despite everything she'd experienced. He could be brave too.

"What if—What if we started over?" she said.

"Start over?"

"I think we need a clean slate. If you're really and truly over your ex—"

"I am. I swear, Y/n," Harry said, not wanting hope to spark to life in him just yet.

"Then we need to put all of this mess behind us and start fresh."

"I—I'd like that." He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. When he called Y/n, he worried he'd come off a little crazy due to lack of sleep, but now he worried he might've fallen asleep in a songwriting craze and was now dreaming.

"I, um, I know you offered a few months ago, but if you were still looking for someone to join your band...maybe I could fill that spot?"

"You want to work for me?"

"I wasn't going to put it like that, but I guess technically yes," Y/n said. "I feel like you would pay a fair wage."

Harry chuckled, a satisfied sort of exhaustion taking over him now that he felt like his life was getting back on track. "I'll give you whatever you want if it means you'll join."

He just wanted her close, and if this was what a clean slate looked like to her, then he would oblige. Having her close, playing music together, being surrounded by their friends, it would be exactly what they needed to find their way back to each other.

"You should probably go to bed," Y/n said, breaking the content silence that had settled over them.

"Yeah, probably," Harry agreed, running a tired hand over his face. "So what have you been listening to recently?"

For a moment, he thought she would insist he get some rest. He supposed he'd be okay with it, finding peace in the fact things were finally looking up for them. But then she answered, and Harry was sure he'd never be able to wipe the smile from his face as he listened to his girl.

*.*

Months later

"Are you in love with Harry?"

The question wasn't directed at you, but you felt your cheeks redden immediately.

Sarah, who was much more quick on the draw than you would've been, smiled and said, "We all are, yeah."

You forced a soft laugh, unsure of where to direct your gaze. This whole interview had been one huge vat of chaos—and blatant misogyny—from the start, but Harry had conducted himself well so far, not balking or raising his voice once at the invasive and downright rude questions that were thrown at him. Perhaps you should've expected a question like this today, but you still struggled to keep your face neutral.

"So there's nothing going on romantically with Harry and the ladies?"

You suddenly found the keyboard in front of you incredibly interesting. What you really needed in this moment was a reassuring glance from Harry, but that would defeat the purpose of keeping your budding relationship a secret.

Attention from the public was still something you were getting used to. You'd gotten into songwriting because it was out of the public eye, but being with Harry would eventually lead you right into it. Not that you minded, you'd do whatever it took to be with him. But interviews like this one still left you feeling flustered.

"And who's back there on keys?"

Even though they were all your friends, you still felt your face flush as red as the leather skirt you wore for the interview.

"Y/n."

"That's Y/n."

"How are you doing back there, Y/n?"

"Fine," you managed to say, your voice barely above a squeak.

Risking a glance at Harry, you met his gaze. He gave you an encouraging smile, and it bolstered your confidence the slightest bit. Just enough to get you through this brief conversation.

"Just fine? Does Harry make you nervous?"

"Maybe Y/n's the one who's in love with him."

"Or maybe she just wants to fuck him!"

An awkward silence fell over the room after the interviewers' comments and questions. You didn't even know what to say, or how you were expected to respond. Feeling the sympathetic stares from the rest of the band, you took a deep breath and tried not to cry, feeling extremely embarrassed.

Harry's jaw ticked, and you were pretty sure you were the only one who noticed. It was the first time he'd reacted to any of the questions asked today. And you could see it in his face that he was beyond pissed off.

This wasn't what you expected, and clearly Harry hadn't expected it either. But you also didn't want him to storm off and make a big scene. You just wanted to get through today and go home and rest with Buddy and Sweet Pea while you and Harry watched a movie together in bed. That thought kept you grounded, and you tried your hardest to convey to Harry that you were okay without saying anything.

"I, um, I met Harry in the studio in LA," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Y/n's a songwriter, but she's generously lent her fabulous keyboarding skills to us this year," Harry said.

"A songwriter?" You felt the interviewer's gaze sweep over you, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

Another tick of Harry's jaw.

"Yeah. But I've enjoyed doing this too. Traveling and performing with Sarah's band," you said, a meek attempt at a joke.

"You must be getting laid a lot on the road as a proper rockstar now. You could probably get whoever you wanted. Well, maybe not Harry, but close to anyone. Are you taking advantage of being on the road with Harry? A new man every night?"

You swallowed thickly, the will not to cry hanging on by a thread. "I—I don't think my brothers be cool with—"

"Shut the fuck up, mate."

Shocked silence filled the room. Clearly, the interviewers didn't expect someone as laid back as Harry to speak up that way. A mix of relief and unease washed over you, unsure of how the rest of the interview was going to pan out now. But you couldn't say you didn't feel relieved that he'd spoken up.

"Harry, we're only—"

"You're being fucking disrespectful to the members of my band, and I'm not fucking putting up with it. Either ask me your fucking questions or let me go. My band and I aren't putting up with your bullshit."

Harry hadn't wanted to come here. He knew the reputation of the interviewer, but it had still somehow made it onto the list of interviews and appearances to promote the album. You'd watched as he grew more and more irritated with each question, but he seemed to take them in stride. But the minute they were directed at you, he'd snapped.

A brief break in the interview ensued, producers suggesting that a couple minutes to regroup would do everyone some good. When everyone was ready to record again, a stilted topic change led Harry to introduce and talk about the Peter Gabriel song they were about to play. The rest of the interview teetered between overly professional and awkward. You could tell by the tense line of Harry's shoulders that he wanted to be anywhere else.

At some point while Harry was talking, Sarah looked over at you. "You okay?" she mouthed, and you nodded subtly, giving her a tiny thumbs up from behind your keyboard setup. Everyone in the band knew about you and Harry. It was hard to hide your relationship when he was by your side whenever you weren't rehearsing a song, and like Mitch and Sarah, he was almost always facing you during rehearsals. It was sweet how he was always pulling you aside during lunch breaks and sitting beside you on the piano bench. One time, when Harry had a film crew film a performance of each song on the album, he asked if the recording of "Fine Line" could just be you and him. Both of you sat on stools with your respective guitars as you performed a stripped-back version of the song, your voice supporting Harry's with a soft harmony occasionally. It was a special moment for the two of you, especially because the song meant so much.

After that, there were no questions about what you meant to each other.

At the end of the interview, Harry was quick to leave, hardly sparing anyone a glance as he stalked out. You stayed back to break down your equipment like you normally did, your hands shaking a little as the desire to comfort Harry took over.

"Go, I got this," Mitch said, coming over to help.

"Really?"

Mitch nodded before bumping his shoulder against yours. "Yeah. We still on for dinner tonight?"

You nodded. "Might have to be at my apartment, though. I don't think he'll be up for going out."

You left soon after that, walking out of the recording room where the interview had taken place. The green room was down the hall, and you entered despite the closed door. "It's me," you said quietly before entering, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Harry was already out of his blue sweater and green trousers, a pair of brown corduroys on as he shrugged into a yellow t-shirt. He looked up briefly, then looked back down again as he slipped a pair of Vans on.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mad, upset, guilty," he said with a shrug.

"Why on earth do you feel guilty, love?"

"That never should've fucking happened," he seethed, but in Harry fashion, it just meant his voice was clipped and low as he tried to get a handle on his anger. "You didn't deserve that. I should've stood up for you."

"I...You did, H." You didn't want to say that it was okay, because obviously the whole situation wasn't, but you knew he wasn't to blame. The topic of him sticking up for you was a touchy one. "You were put in a tough position, yet you still put those assholes in their place. Let's just go home and forget about all this shit, okay?"

Harry nodded, but he still wouldn't meet your eye, which wasn't going to work for you one bit.

"Hey," you said, tilting his chin up with your fingertips. "Don't beat yourself up. Please? For me?"

For the first time since the midpoint of the interview, Harry grinned. He threaded his fingers through yours before giving you a kiss, his lips soft and familiar against yours. You felt some of the tension leave his body until he eventually pulled away and draped an arm over your shoulders, your hands still connected.

"Never fucking coming to this place again," Harry murmured on the way out, keeping you tucked closely to his side.

"Amen to that."

Harry looked down at you, the anger and frustration finally clearing from his eyes. When it came to you, to your feelings, he was very protective. And you were too, in your own way. You leaned on each other, supported each other, and spent time together without ever being sick of one another. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved you, and even though it might put him in hot water with his management or the interviewer, it meant a lot to you that he stood up for you the way he did. You didn't need him to throw punches or push people up against walls—honestly, that was what your brothers were for—but when it all boiled down, he put you and your feelings first, always and without question.

"I love you," he murmured, his thumb rubbing circles over the top of your hand.

"Even with my crazy brothers?"

"Even with your crazy brothers."

"Hm. Even when Buddy steals your spot on the bed?"

"Even then."

"Even in the mornings when my feet are cold and they brush up against your legs?"

When Harry didn't answer right away, you playfully pinched his side until he laughed and kissed the top of your head. "Babe, I'm gonna love you on your worst day, you know that."

And even though you did, your cheeks became rosy, your whole body tingling with warmth. "Good. Because I love you too. So much."

So much pain had been felt, so much devastation had been endured before you and Harry fell into a perfect rhythm. It wasn't easy, and if you were to look back at the girl who believed she was fucked in the head and incapable and undeserving of love and being loved, you would still think it was all worth it. You would endure it all again if it led you to this moment, if it ended up with Harry cradling your heart of glass in his hands and protecting it as if it was his own.

Hand in hand, you went home and didn't look back at the shattered glass you'd long since left behind.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #fine line

[slutforaemondtargaryen]

Nobody hurts what's mine | Aemond Targaryen

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: fluff, mention of rape (not by Aemond), murder/death, blood, slightly dark Aemond, no use of y/n, traumatic event

Summary: While Aemond was out on duty a Lord from the court took advantage of you. Aemond will definitely not let that slide.

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: hi! i really don't know how i thought of this. i've never written anything like that so it's probably not the best quality, but i hope you like it and enjoy it! any support is very much appreciated.

reblogs, likes and comments are very appreciated <3

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WORK!

She was sitting in their chambers, Aemond not present. She couldn't stop thinking about what happened.

It was supposed to be a quick dinner with the rest of the court. She would drink a few goblets of wine, eat some food, and quickly disappear to her chambers, where she would fall asleep.

She wasn't planning that Lord Lannister would follow her. He clearly had a few more drinks than he should've. His walking was not very straight.

Before she could even react, he pulled her aside to an empty hallway. She tried to fight him, but he forced himself upon her, putting a hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming. She bit him multiple times however he didn't seem to feel it at all.

It was probably quick for him. For her, it were the longest minutes of her life. When he was done he just whispered ''Don't tell anyone or something bad will happen.'' and disappeared back to the dining hall.

She quickly went to her chambers. She told a maid to prepare her a bath as quickly as possible and requested moon tea. The maid sent for the moon tea without asking questions nevertheless made sure to let her Lord husband know. The bath was prepared in no time.

Her skin was raw from how strongly she washed her body, the places Lord Lannister touched. Scratches from her nails as she tried so hard to get the awful feeling off her. She felt so dirty all the segments of her skin that his disgusting hands touched. It felt like they were on fire. Tears streamed down her cheeks as everything slowly sunk in. The realization of what actually happened.

So many thoughts were running through her head. Does this mean I was unfaithful to Aemond? Was it my fault? Did I deserve it? Did I provoke him? What if Aemond finds out? What will happen? Will he blame me?

She stepped out of the bath. Water was dripping on the floor, but she did not care. The robe she put on was comfortable, like silky sheets that were caressing her aching skin.

The moon tea was already served on the table, waiting just for her. She drank it quickly, making sure there was no drop left. Praying to the Seven that she would not be with a baby of the filthy Lannister.

When Aemond got the message, he immediately canceled everything he was doing and returned to the King's Landing. He needed to know what made his wife ask for moon tea, and he had a feeling that he won't like it.

When he arrived at the King's Landing, he got off Vhagar's back and without talking to anyone, headed to his shared chambers. He walked quickly, ignoring his mother, Queen Alicent, on the way.

The guards opened the chambers to him. When he looked into the chamber he saw his Lady wife sitting in the armchair in front of the fireplace. She didn't even notice he was there. The doors closed behind him as he walked up to his wife.

He kneeled next to the armchair and sighed. ''One of the maids sent me some information,'' he said while placing his hand on hers. She flinched slightly, which caused him to put his hand away. Wounded a little. ''Is it true that you ordered the moon tea?'' he asked with a soft voice, not wanting to make her feel pressured.

She nodded. She didn't feel like talking at all, she was scared of Aemond's reaction. ''Why?'' he asked. He wanted to touch her, caress her hand, hair, anything, but he wanted to respect her comfort zone.

She kept silent. The bad habit of scratching her fingers until they are bleeding coming back. Aemond noticed it and took her hands in his which made her look at him.

He kneeled in front of her, his face desperate and worried. He loved her too much and he was scared of what happened. His hair was loose over his shoulders. He was wearing his clothes for riding, which he usually took off right after. Not now, his wife was his priority.

He kissed her hands gently, causing her eyes to swell up with tears. Aemond did not understand what was happening so he hugged her. He wanted her to know that he was there for her. She cried over his shoulder and they both sat there like that for a few minutes.

Aemond finally started getting what happened. Why his lady wife has requested the moon tea and why she was crying now. He only needed a name. A name of the bastard that laid his hands upon her, who forced himself upon her.

''Who?'' only came out of his lips. His voice was demanding although gentle at the same time. ''Lord Lannister,'' she said in between sobs, clutching on him even more, scared that he would leave her. That he was disgusted by her.

Aemond's lilac eye darkened. How did the filthy Lannister dare to touch his wife while he was away? He would pay for it, and Aemond would make sure that Lord Lannister would regret every second of the terror he did to his wife.

He got pulled out of his thoughts when she said something he never thought he would hear. The sentence 'Are you disgusted with me?' ringing in his ears.

He pulled a little away to look into her eyes. ''What? No of course not, my dear wife.'' He caressed her head slowly while she looked at him with glossy eyes. He could see how much pain she had endured. ''Why would you think that, little dragon?'' he was a little sad that her head would even come up with it.

''Because of...'' she looked away. ''Of what he did. What if it was my fault? What if I-'' Aemond cut her off with a gentle 'shh' ''Do not say those words again. It was not your fault, never think that. That pig of a Lannister cannot keep his hands to himself, and he will pay.''

He kissed her forehead. ''There is nothing that could make you disgusting to me.'' she smiled at that, clearly relieved. He caressed her cheek with his thumb. ''I love you, little dragon.'' he pulled her into his chest and kept caressing her hair. ''I love you too,'' she replied.

Those words made Aemond's body fill with warmth. He loved her so much, too much. He would kill for her, burn the world for her only to make sure that she was happy and safe. He loved her to such depths that he would betray his family if she asked him to. He hated it, but he knew that his life without her would not make sense.

When she fell asleep at night after many comfort hours with Aemond he went to finally take his revenge for his wife. He wanted to do it earlier, the second he found out but he couldn't leave his little dragon alone, not in that state.

He was furious when he found out that Lord Lannister left the King's Landing, and returned to Casterly Rock due to 'important issues'. He tried to run away. Coward. Aemond thought.

This wasn't going to stop him. He would get his revenge even if it meant he had to go to Casterly Rock.

He rode Vhagar. Oh, how he wished to see Lannister's face when he saw Aemond's dragon. Aemond didn't waste any time finding a place to land. He landed on the castle grounds, not caring about some towers falling because of Vhagar's wings. Why would he anyway?

He heard people screaming, some panicking. Aemond didn't care. He headed inside the castle. A young maid helped him find Lord Lannister's chambers. Such a sweet servant girl, she didn't know that she was helping the murderer to kill her Lord.

When Aemond barged into the chambers he saw Lord Lannister packing things in fear. ''You won't need them,'' Aemond told him. His tone was so horrifying that many courageous guards would run away in fear.

''What do you want?'' Lord Lannister said, his eyes filled with fear. ''What do I want?'' Aemond repeated slowly. He twirled with his dagger between his fingers. ''Don't you know that you shouldn't touch things that are not yours?'' he asked. His whole demeanor was calm which was surprising to Lord Lannister.

He didn't reply, instead, he tried to grab a sword nearby. Before he could even reach him he screamed in pain. Aemond's dagger was in his hand. ''Was that hand first?'' Aemond asked with a coy smirk. ''Doesn't matter you're going to lose both.''

Aemond ripped the dagger out of his hand and cut it off in a swift motion. Blood flowed out on the marble floor. Lord Lannister screamed in pain, he tried to clutch the hand to stop the bleeding but Aemond wouldn't let him. He loved his pained screams so much. ''You're a little cunt, aren't you? Taking advantage of my lady wife when I'm not there. You really thought I wouldn't find out?'' Aemond snickered.

''I told that bitch to not tell anyone,'' Lannister said. Aemond got furious when he heard Lannister call his little dragon a 'bitch'. Without waiting for anything he cut off his other hand.

''This is going to start a war between us, boy!'' Lannister gritted out. He was angry, and Aemond smirked. ''So be it,'' with that word, Aemond slit Lord Lannister's throat.

#aemond targaryen #aemond angst #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #fanfiction #fluff #aemond fluff #house of the dragon #house lannister #house targaryen #aemond x fem!reader #hotd fanfic

[changbinsboiledegg]

haiiiii

i was wonder if you could do a skz reaction when they tell their other members that you and him have sex?

like Han being so confused on how you and Changbin have seen each other naked.

(sorry if this is weird or not explained enough haha)

Heyyyyyy thank you for your request! Also, no need to apologized! I understood what you meant :) I also don't think it's weird. I wasn't sure if they had an established relationship or were just FWB type situation, so I made it FWB. I hope that's okay? I didn't necessarily mention this though, so you could also imagine you and skz are already dating? Up to you! Anyways, ily and thank you again! 🫶🫶🫶 Also !!! feel free to lmk if you meant something else!

GN! Reader X SKZ.

(Didn't specify a gender or body parts. I mentioned reader having a chest they didn't want to expose- honeys, everyone has a chest.)

MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI!!!!!!!

Warnings: Smut(?), Suggestive if not smutty, swearing, nude mention, implied sexting, alcohol/ drinking mentions, hickey (giving/ receiving.), maybe implied aftercare???, some of the members are unrealistically bold. lmao.

Note: probably the longest reactions I've written so far lolololol. I hope y'all enjoy! Ofc another one for the road, MDNI!!!!! And also I would love feedback 🫶🥹 No pressure, and if no one told y'all today, ilyyyyyyy :) Take care. I also used your example for Changbin's hehe.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

The sounds of your loud moans spilled out into the rest of the dorm. You were only being loud because you and Chan both thought the dorms were empty.

That was until Felix came back early to retrieve something he had forgotten. When you screamed— from the pleasure, he stood there, wondering which of the other members were with you. That was when he heard Chan’s voice.

Later, Felix saw you and Chan talking casually and acting as if you two didn’t just have sex in the dorm.

“So, I came back earlier.” Felix spoke up, catching both of your attentions. Chan glanced from you to Felix. “Yeah?”

“I heard you two.” Felix continued. You felt your cheeks heat up, knowing what he was talking about. Chan tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t.

“We’ve been… you know… having sex. No big deal.” Chan explained, his cheeks red from confessing that. Felix scrunched his face, cringing.

“I know that now! I’m just bringing it up because why did you choose the dorm? Did you think we’d be gone for that long?” Felix started to ask questions but then walked away, deciding he didn’t want to know this much information regarding you and Chan.

Lee Know

Minho was in the bathroom— somewhere he could really find privacy. He had his phone angled and snapped a photo of his erection, having gotten hard from sexting with you.

He sent the picture and waited for a response when suddenly, his heart dropped, reading the contact name.

“Shit!” Minho cursed, immediately texting Jeongin to not open the chat. It was too late, and Jeongin found him in the bathroom, knocking on the locked door.

“Who was this meant for?!” Jeongin asked. Shock was evident in his tone and Minho felt his heart racing from the panic this caused.

“Uh—“ Minho was cut off by another knock.

“Get out so I can bleach my eyes!” Jeongin groaned. Minho rolled his eyes, pulling up his pants. When he opened the door, he was met with Jeongin, who held his phone opened on the chat.

“Don’t ever send me anything like this again! Double check the contact names next time—“

“It’s for y/n anyway.” Minho mumbled, walking quickly to his room. Jeongin watched, “what? Don’t send y/n that either—“

“We’ve already slept together.” Minho scoffed, still embarrassed. “And you need to forget what you saw.”

Jeongin started to turn red in embarrassment now, hesitantly entering the bathroom.

Changbin

You, Changbin, and Jisung were playing a game together to pass time until the others got back.

“Why is it so hot in here?” You briefly paused the game, taking off your hoodie as a piece of your shirt rode up with it. You felt your shirt leave your skin and quickly pulled down your shirt before it exposed your chest.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to almost flash you both!” You apologized, setting your hoodie down. Changbin chuckled, smirking.

“Nothing I haven’t already seen.” Changbin commented, not thinking first. You pinched the bridge of your nose and avoided Jisung’s confused expression.

“Excuse me?” Jisung asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know this bit of information.

After a moment of silence of exchanged glances between you and Changbin, Jisung spoke up again. “Because that’s not typical flirting.”

“We’ve been… you know.” You confessed. Jisung was still in a state of confusion but slowly came to the realization.

“I know you’ve heard us before because someone, gets pretty loud.” Changbin teased you through the awkwardness of such a confession.

You reached over the small table and nudged his shoulder, almost knocking the pieces of the game over. “Seriously?!”

Jisung didn’t say anything and stood up, leaving the room.

Hyunjin

You put on one of Hyunjin’s robes to cover your naked body as you were preparing to go to the dorms kitchen to get water for you and Hyunjin.

Hyunjin put on a robe as well but only to walk to the bathroom. “Remember, the others are asleep so please tip toe if you have to. I really don’t want to hear anything from them right now.”

You grinned at Hyunjin, giving him a thumbs up, still glowing from the orgasm you’d just experienced.

You left his room and shut the door as quietly as you could before turning and immediately jumping out of your skin. When you saw Seungmin giving you an amused but confused look, your first instinct was to attempt to cover yourself, forgetting you were wearing Hyunjin’s robe.

“I knew it.” Seungmin smugly chuckled, shaking his head. You just stood there, debating on getting Hyunjin or explaining to Seungmin to not say a word.

“The others owe me money now.” Seungmin turned, seemingly headed for the kitchen also. You were about to head back into Hyunjin’s room but found yourself confused at his statement.

“Wait you made on a bet on whether or not we were having—“

Hyunjin heard your voice and entered the hallway with you. “Woah! What’s going on?” Hyunjin cut you off, not understanding the situation.

He saw Seungmin, who shrugged.

“Your group made a bet on whether or not we were having sex.” You whispered. Hyunjin widened his eyes, his face turning a deep shade of red as Seungmin held back a laugh, entering the kitchen.

Han

“Alright! Water only for the rest of the night.” Changbin handed a clearly drunk Jisung a cup of water. Jisung accepted it, taking a sip as he tried to wash the taste of the alcohol down.

“Fuck, I’m going to regret this in the morning…” Jisung groaned, already feeling the migraine coming on. The room spun and his words were slurred.

They were at an after party and the other members had gone off to enjoy what else the party had to offer. Changbin stayed near Jisung,

“Hell yeah, you’re gonna regret this.” Changbin laughed. “Better enjoy it while you can.”

Jisung rubbed his eyes, drinking more of the water. “Where’s y/n?”

Changbin tilted his head, shrugging. “Probably home or with friends. Why?”

Jisung felt his pockets for his phone, forgetting he left it in the car to charge. “Do you think y/n will still want to have sex tonight?”

Jisung wasn’t sober enough to realize what he just asked Changbin, who was taken aback. He looked around the room and then moved closer to Jisung.

“Not if you’re drunk.” Changbin spoke slowly. Jisung frowned, “tomorrow then.”

“Um…”

Changbin had gotten a bit more information than he needed to know. Jisung’s eyes bulged, immediately shaking his head.

“Ah! I shouldn’t have said that! Please forget this in the morning!” Jisung immediately tried to make up for telling him your private business together.

But Changbin was sober enough to forget.

Felix

Felix smiled as he thought back to your encounter last night. The sounds you made, how you felt, tasted, everything.

He was too satisfied the next day to realize the others were giving him strange looks. That was until Chan pulled him aside with a concerned look.

“Did you burn yourself?” Chan asked, glancing down at his neck. Felix was confused now, wondering what he meant.

“No? Do I have a burn?” Felix asked, gently feeling around his neck. His fingers touched one of the hickeys you left on his neck, the lingering soreness reminding him of how good you kissed, sucked, and nibbled on his neck.

He fought back a smirk, reminding himself of Chan’s concern.

“Oh— yeah. I was trying to straighten my hair.” Felix lied, obviously. He wasn’t going to tell him the truth. Chan seemed to buy it, sighing.

“Please ask me for help. I don’t think the makeup artists will like having to use the makeup to cover up the burn.” Chan chuckled, patting Felix’ shoulder.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Felix smiled, nodding. They glanced towards the front door, hearing a knock. Chan went to answer it as Felix watched to see if it were you or someone else.

You entered the dorms and almost immediately, Felix— and Chan noticed the hickeys that littered your neck.

Felix felt his stomach drop as Chan had a look of realization, glancing at Felix with a knowing glare.

“So you both burned yourselves on the same iron?” Chan crossed his arms. Felix sighed and you noticed the hickey on Felix’ neck before moving your hand to try and hide yours with the collar of your hoodie.

“Fine… We, uh, did it last night.” Felix spoke quietly and tried to be discreet, not wanting to say ‘sex’.

“Just say sex.” You sighed, moving to stand beside Felix. Chan raised his eyebrows at your boldness.

“Wait—“

You then dragged Felix into the bathroom and worked on covering the hickeys with makeup before the others saw.

Seungmin

Every time you were hanging around the guys or even mentioned, Seungmin would get shy and nervous, displaying signs that one would when having a crush on someone.

Other times when you were around, he’d be more open and mainly focused on you and anything you said or did, regardless of who was speaking.

Because of this, the other members caught on and began to tease him of his ‘little’ crush.

Seungmin knew this wasn’t the case. You knew that wasn’t the case.

Yeah, he was attracted to you. But it was more than just a crush and it began to annoy Seungmin with their relentless teasing.

“I just wish they’d, I don’t know, stop.” Seungmin vented to you. You took his hand in yours, hatching a plan.

“I have an idea, but only if you’re up for it.”

“At this point? Anything.” Seungmin’s eyes lit up. You nervously chuckled, “we tell them.”

Seungmin’s hopeful smile dropped, “and get teased more?”

“They tease you because they think you have a crush on me. Would they still tease you for having sex with me?” You asked, thinking the plan through with him. Seungmin groaned.

Hyunjin walked in, instantly smiling. “Aw, found the lovebirds.”

You looked at Seungmin, not wanting to go through with the plan without his consent. Seungmin stood up and pulled you up with him.

“Don’t come in my room for the next hour.”

“Hour?” You whispered, widening your eyes. Hyunjin was taken aback, realizing what Seungmin meant by this.

“If you hear anything, don’t interrupt.” Seungmin looked back at Hyunjin, matching his smile from before this info bomb was dropped on him.

Hyunjin didn’t know what to do or say, surprised to say the least.

I.N

“Are you sure it didn’t hurt?” Jeongin asked, knowing it was your first time having sex. You smiled at how attentive and caring he was being even after you’ve reassured him multiple times.

“Jeongin,” you kept your tone soft. “I’m sure it didn’t hurt.”

Jeongin smiled in relief, “do you want to do it again?” He asked, meeting your eyes. You chuckled, “now?”

“No, later or some other time.” Jeongin clarified. Despite how worried he was about hurting you accidentally, he enjoyed it and being with you and he knows you did too.

“Sure. Yes.” You smiled. Jeongin felt more relief hearing that you wanted to have sex again.

You both turned to see Minho in the doorway after he had knocked on the door.

“You both are gross.” Minho joked, although he wished he hadn’t heard your conversation. Jeongin blinked, pointing towards the door.

“Out!” You couldn’t help but giggle at the situation. Minho even let out a small laugh.

“You’re… you’re just jealous because we were doing it.” Jeongin emphasized the word ‘it’, feeling too awkward in that moment to say ‘sex’.

“I don’t care that you’re having sex with each other, just make sure to use protection,” Minho took a step out of the room and put his hand on the door knob.

“And lock the door, lower the noise, and wait until no one is in the dorms.” Minho grinned. You could tell it was forced because Minho’s grin dropped a second later as he shut the door.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Note 2: Seungmin in his villain era in Hyunjin's lololol & also, hickeys don't look like burns, I know this but a hot iron burn is a common excuse people use when someone else sees them. Also, I know I wrote these but some of the members need to mind their own *inhale* MOTHER FUCKING *exhale* business.

Note 3: I'm joking lmaoooooo. I need to sleep. Goodnight lovelies.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #skz reactions #stray kids au #stray kids imagine

[roosterforme]

Don't Drag Your Feet (Rooster x Reader)

Part of The What If Collection of blurbs for Roo and Baby Girl. Written for an ask. My masterlist. Banner by @mak-32

Warnings: just fluff

Bradley was lounging in his bunk on base in San Diego, partaking in his weekly phone call home to his parents. He smiled as he held the phone to his ear while Carole Bradshaw talked a mile a minute. He kept trying to cut in, knowing she would want to hear what he had to say, but she was going on and on about her cousin Brenda.

"Mom," he tried again, running his fingers through his hair. 

"Oh, Bradley, all the cousins want to see you. Do you know when you'll be back in Virginia? Your dad and I figured you'd be back on base here by Thanksgiving at the latest?"

But he closed his eyes and thought about the one thing that had him hoping to stay in San Diego permanently. "Mom. I met a girl."

The line went completely silent. 

"Mom? Are you there?"

And then all he heard was a loud screech that had him pulling the phone a few inches from his ear. "Goose!!! Baby! Get in here! He met a girl! Bradley met a girl!"

"Mom," he groaned into the phone. "It's not...anything serious." It wasn't. But he wanted it to be. 

"Maybe it's not serious yet, but Bradley, darling, you never tell us anything about the girls you're seeing. All I know is that there are plenty of them, and that you don't seem to let any of them stick around. So when can we meet her?"

He sighed as his dad's voice carried through the phone as well. "Who's the girl?" he asked, and Bradley could hear the smile in his voice. 

"He won't tell me anything about her!" his mom complained, even though she'd found out less than a minute ago and hadn't let Bradley speak at all. "What's her name? Are we allowed to know that much? And what does she look like? And did you meet her at work? And does she want to give me grandchildren?"

"Jesus, mom. Just, hang on and I'll text you a picture of her." 

As Bradley pulled up the photo he wanted to send, he smiled. You were gorgeous. He was obsessed with the perfect curve of your cheek and your smile. When he sent the photo he told them your name, and that you were also a naval officer with multiple degrees from the naval academy. And then a screech even louder than the first one came tearing through the speaker.

"Bradley! She's beautiful! Goose! Look at her! Our grandchildren will be stunning. And her name sounds perfect with Bradshaw after it."

"Mom, I think you're getting ahead of yourself here-"

"I can tell you're serious about her! I'm not getting ahead of anything."

Bradley sighed. "I just think I might have stronger feelings than she does."

"Have you told her yet? That you're in love with her?" she asked.

He was in love with you. But he was too afraid to say it yet. Not before the mission. It was too soon. 

Then he heard his dad's voice. "Some advice for you, son. If she's that pretty and that smart and you care about her that much, don't drag your feet."

But Bradley always dragged his feet. And women never kept his attention. He was thirty five years old, and he had only had two girlfriends. 

You were different. He could tell right away. But you were way out of his league, and he didn't know the first thing about how to keep you. How to make you his. But he wanted to. He really wanted to. 

"Listen to your father, Bradley. We were engaged by our sixth date."

"Yeah, I know. You've told me about a million times." But he was smiling into the phone now, because even he knew that the kind of love his parents had was rare. He's grown up around it, but he'd never experienced it himself. Until now. 

Then he heard his mom ask, "Do you want me to fly out with my engagement ring? I can probably fly out on Tuesday so you have it for when you're ready. And then I can meet your dream girl. We can all go out to dinner with Mav."

Bradley laughed and cradled his forehead in his hand. "Do not fly out on Tuesday, okay? It's way too soon for that. And if you give me your ring, what will you wear?"

"I'll buy her a new one," his dad said immediately. "Something big and pretty for my girl."

Bradley knew there was no other way to get them off the phone, so he said, "Tuesday is no good for me. But I'll think about it, okay? I'll think about...taking your ring so I have it. Just in case."

When he told them he loved them and ended the call, he was already thinking about it.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster fanfic #if you ask emily #b&bg #is it working for you? #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #roosterforme

[starrystevie]

18+ | modern office steddie au | cw: public sex, undernegotiated kinks, unsafe sex | crossposted to ao3 here

eddie doesn't do it often. okay, maybe that's a stretch. frequently might be a better word for it, more accurate. but he wouldn't say he does it everyday or anything. it's just a little break from the day, an escape from the monotony of corporate america.

he's only been in this new tech support job for a few months but he's already comfortable enough that working on his next novel at his desk doesn't give him anxiety anymore. he isn't afraid someone is looking over his shoulder all the time like he did when he first started with the company.

the thing is, eddie's good at tech. he's good at finding the problems, finding even better solutions. half the time all he's doing is updating and restarting people's equipment that hasn't been refreshed in years. so he finds himself with enough free time at his desk to work on the second installment of his fantasy novel when the problems seem to be at a low.

as he waits for his laptop to boot up, eddie cracks his knuckles and grabs his phone to send a text to his editor that may or may not also happen to be his best friend so he could cut back on over exuberant editing fees. he doesn't read the message over, just fires out a text to nancy quickly before pocketing his phone.

he only realizes the typo once he gets a laughing emoji in return and cackles at what he actually sent.

"getting ready to write some smut on the cock!!!!!"

it doesn't take long to send a winky face before correcting himself to say " on the clock obviously", before pocketing his phone and opening the document where his novel is. just as eddie is about to start typing, a voice behind him makes him jump out of his skin.

"what was so funny?" steve asks, arm propped on the top of his flimsy cubicle wall, legs crossed over one another, smirk on his face.

eddie forces himself not to swoon. he takes in the way his white button up stretches across his chest, dress pants oh so snug over his thighs, hair pushed back in the way that only steve harrington could pull off. he may have only been at the office for a few months, but ever since he first saw him, steve very quickly became the only thing eddie could think about.

"i'm sure you wouldn't find it funny," he starts, tilting his laptop screen halfway shut so steve can't catch him doing his other job, his favorite job, while at work.

steve smirks again, his cheek lifting enough to crinkle his eye. "try me, munson."

with a dramatic push, eddie rolls in his wheely chair and stands up so he can keep his voice low. "i sent my editor a dirty text on accident."

if steve's surprised, he doesn't show it.

"editor, hmm? for what?" his voice is as low as eddie's and it makes the cubicle feel even smaller than it is. like everything in the world has zeroed in on their whispers to each other.

"i might be writing a book. well, technically i've already written a book. this is just the sequel."

steve's eyes flick from eddie to his laptop and then back once more. "is it anything i'd know?"

he cackles again, picturing steve reading his smutty fantasy novel, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to make any sense out of the haphazard world map eddie drew for the back page. but then again, he could easily picture steve in the world he made. he'd be a prince- no, scratch that, an elven prince- just like the one he's writing about in this one.

"i do read, you know. i'm not entirely up to date with everything but i do like books." steve says it like he's almost hurt and it makes eddie look back up at him, mellowing out his wide grin into a softer smile.

"oh, i wasn't doubting that. i just doubt you read elf porn in your free time."

whatever hurt was lacing through steve's face is gone, replaced with wide eyes and eyebrows to his hairline and a bright smile pulling at his cheeks.

"yeah," he says a little breathless, "yeah, definitely not the first thing i'd reach for."

eddie gives him a told-you-so head nod and brings a hand up to run through his hair, tracking steve's eyes as he follows the motion for a moment. having his eyes on him rushes through eddie like a wave crashing and he's halfway tempted to do it again if he didn't think it would look forced.

"well you probably don't know mine then."

as he turns to go back to his chair, he hears steve cough to get his attention back, arms crossed over his chest to make his shirt pull taut over his beautiful, gorgeous, annoyingly perfect biceps. "so what was the dirty text?"

"well, it was actually a typo," eddie starts, cocking his head to the side with a smirk as he pulls out his phone, "so an unintentional dirty text. but still funny, none the less. and i don't think i can say it out loud without getting hr called on my ass so-"

he holds up his phone so steve can see the brief conversation between him and nancy, watches his eyebrows shoot back up to his hairline, watches as his mouth drops open for a millisecond before giving eddie another goddamn smirk. steve leans back, drops his arms to put a hand on his hip, and looks eddie less than subtly up and down.

"so... do you want to?"

eddie can feel the moment his heart stutters in his chest. a combination of steve's general... steveness plus the implication of what the text said and his mind travels to a dirty, dirty, not meant for work place until he pieces it somewhat together and asks-

"...are you asking if i'm gay?"

steve huffs out a laugh and takes a step further into eddie's cubicle. there already isn't much room and with him coming in the tiniest bit closer, their toes are almost touching.

"sure," he says like it's the easiest thing to say on a thursday afternoon. "it can be a two-part question if you want."

a few things run through eddie's head all at the same time:

steve's close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off of the arm he now has resting on his desk, and he's really about to come out to a coworker which he normally leaves for at least 6 months into a new job, and that he thinks he's going to pass out if steve is actually asking what he thinks he's asking.

do you want to write smut while you're on my cock?

he doesn't know where he finds the courage, honestly. call it a slow thursday, call it a little extra motivation for his novel. eddie scoots closer and throws caution to the wind.

"then yes to both."

he's never seen steve's office. he's been to the top floors before when some higher up needed him to install a web browser on his new desktop so he has kind of an idea of what the private offices look like.

eddie didn't expect the first time that he got to see steve's office would be spread out, bent over his desk with his novel pulled up on his laptop while steve runs his hands over his ass.

"here's how this is going to work," steve whispers close to his ear while he lays against his back, snaking a hand up to undo the knot of eddie's messy tie, popping open a button on his dress shirt in the process. "you stop writing, i stop fucking you."

with a hum, eddie presses his hips back, up on his tiptoes with his off brand dress shoes pinching his feet tightly. "i think i can manage that."

"i'm not finished," he bites gently at eddie's ear lobe, returning his hands to palm over his ass cheeks. "everything i do to you, and i mean everything, needs to be written down. turn me into a character or something, i don't care, but i expect you to be thorough."

he doesn't mean to moan at the instructions, really he doesn't, but it's so easy to picture steve morphing into a character in his world. his mind races trying to figure out how exactly to write him into the scene that had already started, but with a snap of his fingers as the idea clicks, he writes out a quick line and looks at steve over his shoulder for approval.

"who's sylvar?" steve asks, pronunciation clunky on his tongue.

"sylvar is an elven prince, might as well make you him. besides, you both have an s name."

steve chuckles, his breath ruffling eddie's hair. "okay, fair. prince, huh?"

he doesn't have to look over his shoulder again to know that steve's smirking so he rolls his eyes and finishes the sentence, only breaking away to gasp as steve brings his hand between his thighs to spread them further apart.

"i'm gonna take a wild guess and say that elidyr is supposed to be you?"

eddie nods and pulls his tie off the rest of the way. "let's see, he's one of the prince's newest attendants, known for being a bit out of control, gets chastised for staring at the prince's ass in his khakis too much-"

"you're making that one up, huh?"

he tosses his tie to the side and brings a hand up to tangle in steve's hair, pulling his lips down to his neck and waiting for him to get the hint and start kissing. "steve, i'm making all of it up. that's the way writing a book goes."

"is that so?" he murmurs playfully against his neck, teeth pressing against the skin as he smiles, hands yanking on his hips to get eddie flush against his cock. "...i don't see you writing."

eddie huffs and shakes his head before writing out quickly how sylvar grabbed elidyr by the hips roughly to show him how excited he was. steve takes the typing as the go ahead and quickly undoes both of their pants before running his hands up eddie's now bare thighs.

he didn't really have any idea of how well he'd be able to hold out to steve's ministrations while having to write them out at the same time, but any confidence he had in himself leaves when steve's palm cups his cock through his briefs. eddie cants his hips forward and brings his hand back up to tangle once more in steve's hair.

and just like that, the touch is gone.

"oh, come on!" eddie whines and brings his hands back to the keyboard, typing in random filler words until suddenly he has no underwear and hands pulling his ass cheeks apart.

"gonna fucking take you apart... shit," steve whispers and eddie doesn't think he was supposed to hear it, but he writes it into the scene anyway.

there's a cool dribble of what must be lube on his hole and he fights against the shiver it sends up his spine. "you have lube in your office?"

"no, i have lube in my briefcase. big difference."

eddie doesn't really see how to the two are different, but he laughs to appease steve before getting cut short as a finger starts to enter him. he must whine, must jerk or do something wrong because it's leaving almost as soon as it had arrived.

"steve, i swear to god," eddie groans, head dropping down as he types without looking. poor nancy is going to have a hell of time reading and editing over this draft.

they both sigh when the finger presses into him once more and steve weaves his other hand into eddie's hair to pull him up and look at his screen. "there you go, just keep typing. write about how good it feels."

and shit. that's hotter than he expected it to be.

it goes well for all of a few minutes, eddie typing and steve reading over his shoulder, scissoring his fingers to get him nice and wet and open. they both somehow manage to keep their composure, filthy words being muttered out loud that then end up on the screen.

it's after steve gets him cock in him that it all goes down hill.

"oh fuck-" eddie moans as his leg gets hoisted up for a better angle. steve's grip on his hip is brutal, bound to be leaving bruises, as he pulls eddie back to meet him in the middle.

his chest is rubbing against the pleather desk cover, nipples catching on just the right side of painful when steve pushes his shirt up and out of the way. his dick is flopping against his thigh with every thrust, the lack of friction driving him insane.

he swears he only takes his hands away from the laptop for a second but then steve's pulling out quickly, dropping his leg and getting eddie off balance. he whines like he's throwing a temper tantrum before bringing his fingers back up to type more nonsense, gasping when steve slides back in like no time has passed.

"read it," he huffs next to his ear, "tell me how perfect you make fucking me sound."

"oh my god," eddie croaks, eyes rolling back as steve lets go of his hip once more to pull his head upright. "sylvar fucks wi-without abandon, hitting every right spot possible inside elidyr, the heat of his h-heavy cock punishing him making him mad with lust."

"good, yeah that's good. like when i fuck you hard?" steve grunts out before pistoning his hips even faster, eddie's moans bouncing off the bare office walls. "tell me more, keep going baby."

"the grip he uses to hold onto elidyr's hair is the only thing keeping him upright. this is all he could want, tending to the prince's every desire, being whatever the prince wants him to be." eddie expects it when the fingers in his hair curl even tighter, his back bowing against the desk with the pressure, but he still keens loudly at the pull.

steve chuckles roughly, like he's barely holding on himself, hips stuttering before evening out. "is that what you want?"

"wha-" eddie murmurs, not trusting his voice much more than that, his brain turning into mush. "is what what i want?"

"want to tend to my desires, want to be for me to use however i please?"

and the thing is, realistically, eddie knows this whole thing is weird, blending his two worlds together in a way he's never done before, but it doesn't stop him from forgoing the rules and bringing a hand down to work over his cock. "god, don't stop. please, please, please..."

steve must be tired of the game, too, because he doesn't even attempt to quit what they're doing to punish eddie as he stops writing. he barely has time to appreciate that the game is finally over because the hand in his hair slides around to rest gently around eddie's throat, pulling him up so his back is to steve's chest, every thrust punching out another gasping breath.

"answer the question," he says, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips. "gonna let me use you how i want?"

eddie has died and gone to heaven and the cause of death is a mixture of steve's tongue, hands, and cock. his mind wanders to what else they could do together, what else he'd let steve do, what else he wants steve to do. he sends up a quick thank you to whoever is listening that he saw the job posting for this company so he could be here in this moment with a possible sex god in his midst.

the hand that he had braced on the desk for support makes its way up to cover steve's on his throat, a barely there pressure combined with his quick fingers on his cock that sends him over the edge.

he breathes out a "yes" as he shoots come across the stop of steve's desk and see stars dancing in his eyes. steve fucks him through it, whispers filth of what he wants to do to eddie right into his ear, and when he comes back to himself, he digs his nails in the top of steve's hand.

"want it, want you, however you want me-" he chokes out.

and when steve finally comes inside of him, eddie makes sure he bends back down with his cock still pounding into him to write some line about how nice elidyr thinks it feels to filled up from someone who probably shouldn't be giving him the time of day. he tries not to find parallels as steve kisses up the back of his neck as he rocks his hips for the final time.

eddie's bare ass is in a mixture of their come as they maneuver him around to let him sit up and wrap his legs around steve's hips, pulling their spent cocks together while they lazily make out. steve's hands dance softly over his bare thighs, eddie threads his fingers through steve's hair.

"how does it end?" steve whispers against his lips.

"i don't know yet," eddie says truthfully, his mind wandering as kisses start to trail down his jawline. "how do you want it to end?"

"i don't suppose they have bars in this elf world, do they? one where they can go on an actual date to before going back to the palace or whatever to ravage each other?"

eddie grins, tipping his head back to catch steve's lips one more time in a slow kiss. "i can arrange for them to go to the tavern. i think they'd both like that."

the next morning, slightly hungover and draped over each other in steve's way too large bed, eddie ignores a text from nancy asking why the names change halfway through the draft and wondering who the fuck steve is. eddie silences his phone and goes back to sleep, so glad that he didn't double check his first message yesterday for typos.

#HI this got long so i will be posting it to ao3 #shoutout to mickala and alice for turning me into this monster #pls excuse any and all typos because i wrote this at work and just want to go home #steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie smut #modern steddie #steddie au

[singmyaubade]

hi!! i was wondering if you could write a smutty story about sub!james? literally anything, pls🙏🏻

warning: mentions of smut and cursing

sub!james x female!reader

a/n: i did not proofread, i'm sorry if this was not what you were expecting LOL.

james never had any performance issues in his life.

he always managed to be a stallion in bed, giving nothing less and everything more. being a 'sex god,' in his own words, was one of the things he always took pride in.

it was his wings, the only thing that could cheer him up when all else failed.

if quidditch was his first passion, snogging girls was a definite second.

so when ruby weathers, a girl with the best bum in james's year, gives him a chance to sleep with her.

he has no choice but to.

james was ecstatic, practically jumping off of the walls. this was his moment, his opportunity once again to prove himself. there wasn't a single nerve in his body; he never underestimated his more large and not-so-average buddy down there.

before he knew it, he was in his perfect bedroom with weathers, relishing her getting on her knees to suck his cock.

and then, everything came to a halt.

after twenty minutes of her doing that, his buddy refused to get up. he felt the arousal, but his mind and cock were in different places.

after she complained about her jaw locking for the twenty-second time, he decided to get straight to the point. but even when he fucked her, he couldn't get hard.

eventually, ruby just told him awkwardly that it was okay and things clearly weren't working despite him asking her to try a few things. they didn't even exchange last words before she left.

and when she did, he was embarrassed, frustrated, in fact.

he didn't think weathers was the type to tell people's sex business or even gossip for that face.

he knew he was wrong when sirius came urgently yelling, "prongs, your dick is broken?!"

and that was, for sure, the icing on the cake.

he tried everything that didn't involve taking a particular little pill to perform.

he tried spells, teas, and even a massage, but nothing worked. he even thought he was attracted to other things, but it was no point.

eventually, his friends were all sensing his depression. he couldn't even play quidditch properly.

marlene, who felt no sympathy at all, even tried to cheer up james, but it was a loss. he completely lost himself through the entire thing, and yes, it might have been stupid for some people, but it meant a lot to him.

but then dorcas pulled him aside.

"go to the room written here on saturday after lunch," dorcas handed him the card. he looked at her, entirely confused, raising his eyebrow.

"i have a friend who helps with that kind of stuff," she tilted her head, "but don't tell anyone where you are going, and make sure to tell her that i sent you," she instructed to which he nodded and muttered a thank you before dorcas rushed off.

and when saturday after lunch was right there, he didn't know what to do, his fist knocking on your door lightly.

then he saw you, yawning when you opened the door. your hair perfectly laid, wearing a matching pink tank top and shorts that hugged your thighs most comfortably. your nipples were perked up through your tank top, making him swallow.

"eyes are up here, pretty boy." you tased as his face grew red.

"m’sorry," he stuttered, "i was told to uh- i mean, dorcas sent me here."

you looked at him questioningly, "and why did she do that?" you asked, pursing your lips.

"she said you could help me with my uh problem," he whispered, looking around.

"golden boy having a problem that i have to fix?" you tsked, smirking, "interesting." you moved aside to let him, walking to your own bed.

he took that opportunity to look at your ass which was 'bloody fantastic,' he thought. he stood there gawking at you, not knowing if he should come in.

"you coming in or?" you flattered, to which he came in immediately, shutting the door.

he stood there like a scarecrow before you giggled, "come sit with me," you patted the spot next to you on the bed.

he nervously fiddled with his fingers as you placed your hand on his hand to calm him down, "what problems are you having?"

he stayed silent, clearly embarrassed, "james," you grabbed his chin so he looked at you, "i'm here to help you, not judge you,"

he took a deep breath, "i am having trouble during sex."

"what kind of problems?" you asked, using your thumb to brush his fingers.

"i can't get hard," he admitted, looking down.

he was prepared for you to laugh, even mock him for having such a stupid problem, but you still maintained a compassionate face.

"okay," you said, "and when did you start having that problem," you asked.

"two weeks ago," he muttered.

"and have you tried anything new? maybe something new in your sex life?" you suggested.

"i've tried everything i can think of; it's just not happening." he was frustrated.

"okay then let's try everything you haven't thought of." you half-joked.

"like what?" he asked, making eye contact with you.

"hmm," you tapped your chin, "first things first, are you more dominant or submissive?"

"uh," he said, genuinely not knowing.

"okay that's fine, i'll find out," you replied, sounding sure.

"and are you okay with being intimate with me?" you asked.

he could feel his face turning bright red, "y-yeah that's fine, i mean if you are fine with it but if you're not, its okay, i do-"

you kissed him, cutting him off. your tongue entangling his, hand on his thigh. you grabbed his hand, putting it on your breast as his other hand went to your cheek.

you pulled away from him as he whimpered, "what do you want me to do, james?" you asked.

"i don't know," he answered, drunk off your lips.

"can i suck you off, baby?" you asked, your eye contact ripping him into pieces.

"y-yes." he answered nervously as you got onto your knees.

you touched his belt, unbuckling it as you reached up to kiss him one last time. you palmed him through his boxers, not feeling him get hard yet, but you were patient.

you pulled him soft out of his boxers, stroking him fully. he was big even soft which you admit made you dripping in your panties.

your tongue did a long stripe on his cock, making him moan. you sucked on his tip first, putting your hand on his thigh as his hand palmed into a fist.

you put him deeper in your mouth, letting him hit the back of your throat as he whined. you grabbed his hand, unfisting it, interlocking your hand in his.

you continued bobbing your head up and down his length, your other hand stroking whatever you couldn't fit in your mouth.

james continued holding your hand, holding it tighter when you sucked his tip.

"is it good, jamie?" you asked, breathing a bit hard.

"so good," he whimpered.

that's when you finally felt him getting hard, when you talked to him.

"you are doing so well for me," you complimented, "you are being so good."

he groaned at your words as you continued sucking him off, him being fully erect now.

"so big," you managed to say with his cock inside your mouth.

his cock twitched inside your mouth and you knew he was near when he gripped your hand tightly.

"you can do it," you muffled through his cock, the vibrations sending him.

james closed his eyes, leaning his head back before cumming inside of your mouth.

"i wanna kiss you," he whined as you smiled, kissing him with his cum inside of your mouth as it slobbed over both of your chins.

your mouth invaded his as he moaned inside of your mouth. his hands touched your top, tugging at it. you could tell that he wanted it off of you.

"you wanna take off my top for me, jamie?" you asked as he nodded.

you let him take your top off as you straddled his lap, him latching on your nipple as soon as he could which earned a moan from you. his spit all over your chest, your nipples swollen.

you raised off of him for a second to take off your shorts as he looked at you in awe with his big, brown eyes.

you straddled him again, aligning his cock with your hole. he continued sucking on your nipple as you sat down on him and he groaned.

"fuck," you said, "stretching me out."

he was hardening inside of you again, getting drunk off of your pussy.

he whimpered as he hit the spongy spots inside of you. you started a slow speed and once it stopped stinging, you went faster.

he held onto your body tightly, not letting you go. he mewled the faster you went, his cock twitching inside of you due to the immense pleasure.

"so needy baby," you moaned, bouncing up and down.

he hit the perfect spot inside of you as you tried not to grow hazed in pleasure.

"i can't hold it in, mommy." he said, you being a bit surprised at his wording.

"it's okay baby," you soothed, "you can cum." you smoothed the back of his hair.

you kept riding him until he came, not worried about your release. he came with a whimper, sensitive.

"i wanna taste you mommy," he groaned with you still inside of him as he softened inside of you.

"next time jamie, this was for you right now," you grinned, kissing him delicately on his lips.

you tried letting him go but his grip on you was still there, not wanting you to leave.

"i'm not gonna go anywhere," you calmed, him still inside of you.

"i just wanna cuddle for a while," he said.

"okay, we can do that." you gave him a reassuring smile, laying the both of you down, entangled in each other as you gave a peck to his nose.

your eyes fluttered closed as james admired you.

and before he slept, he knew that he definitely owed dorcas his life.

#sub!james potter #james smut #james potter smut #james x you #james x reader #singyouraubade💕 #singmyaubade #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #marauders era #hp #hogwarts #harry potter #tw mature #marauders #harry potter marauders #the marauders #the marauders smut #remus lupin #fluff #desperate!james #james potter x you #hot y/n #y/n #reader #cursing #needy!james #james potter scenario #james potter blurb

[missmonsters2]

Hey are you taking requests? If so could you maybe do a werewolf reader imprinting on Wanda to keep her protected not realizing that in doing so wanda has now been made aware of how you feel for her through the connection you’ve now forged? Please

If you’re not taking requests then that’s okay I thank you for all the ones you’ve written and I’ve read ☺️

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: none. maybe secretlyneedy!reader.

Note: hnngg. no words.

Count: < 1k

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Wanda rubbed her neck absentmindedly. The area you bit her was still tender, stirring when anything even grazed it. 

The feeling was severe, like a grave reminder of what you have shackled them to in return for keeping Wanda safe. It was sudden, but Wanda couldn't see herself surviving the attack despite her magic. 

And, well, it warded off other werewolves. 

Still, Wanda felt guilty for making you enter into something you've always been clear you didn't want. 

Imprinting was a choice in the way you could choose whether or not to bite someone to bond with. You were adamant that it wasn't something you wanted, but now, you'd never really have the choice if you found someone to love. 

You've always been stiff around Wanda. Always willing to defend her in battle or help her when she needed it, but stoic. You always commented about her dark circles or messy hair, which occasionally made Wanda somewhat self-conscious. 

It was just—ill-matched. 

And now, you've been avoiding her. 

The bite seemed to be getting tenderer the longer you stayed away. 

You must hate her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Mine.

Wanda felt strange today. She was slightly uncomfortable—nervous, really, with you lingering wherever she was. Wanda knew it was because you knew that being apart too long would affect the bond with it being so new, so you were probably also gritting your teeth through this. 

Yet, Wanda's been shifting the last couple of hours. Her body feels—weird. Something overwhelming was wafting through her, akin to a glass that was too full. 

"Are you hungry?" You asked as you got up. 

"Uh," Wanda's toes curled. "A little."

You didn't reply to her answer as you grabbed a few things from the fridge and started prepping. 

"Do you need help?" Wanda got up and walked to you, sitting at the kitchen island. 

You looked up, locking eyes with her.

Pretty. 

Wanda clenched her teeth and blushed. 

Your nose flared a little, only causing Wanda to blush harder. 

Mine.

You looked away.

This was the strange, uncomfortable feeling. 

Wanda didn't know how the bond exactly worked. It wasn't something you discussed, and Wanda's been too nervous to ask. She knew the conversation would need to happen soon, but asking seemed so—ludicrous. 

Wanda felt things, intense things, every time she looked at you. Things would suddenly enter her mind like pretty, mine, never going to hurt you, happy, so happy—it was overwhelming. 

But whenever Wanda looked at you, you looked the same as ever. 

Stoic.

Intense but guarded eyes. 

It only ever happened when you were around.

It was curious, that's all.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Once you explained the bond to Wanda, strangely skirting around certain elements, Wanda understood. 

There's an aspect of sharing that could be opened both ways, but it could also be shut, which you were doing.

Or so you thought. 

It was just a test at first. 

Wanda just wanted to know.

So, she held your hand.

You stiffened, tensing at the feel of her palm and fingers.

But you quietly allowed it. 

You still commented about her dark circles and messy hair, but now Wanda could feel the concern behind it. She could feel the desperation to help and fix it. 

You always took what Wanda gave, greedily appreciating it, just toeing the line for more. If Wanda held your hand, you caressed her palm and her fingers. Your fingers were soft, and when you stroked her inner wrist, it sent tingles throughout her body. 

The hand massages you gave were too erogenous. 

Did Wanda shackle you to something you didn't want, or had she saved you from condemning yourself to solitary?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda only knew for sure when she kissed you.

You tried to back away at first, but Wanda pulled you closer.

"I want this," Wanda mumbled against your lips. " I want you."

And then, it was like whatever you held back broke out with a vengeance. 

You kissed her over and over, kissing her hungrily like you were starved. You pulled her close, tense and tight, like you were afraid she would disappear. 

And then, you started talking.

"Mine," you kiss. "So pretty."

It caught Wanda off guard.

"Mine. You're so perfect." Your hands were doing things to her again. "I'll keep you safe, I swear. I'm so happy. So, so happy," you said between kisses, and Wanda is trying to not get swept up by you.

"Hey," Wanda whispers, and you kiss her again. "Hey, it's okay."

It's consoling, the way she says it, and you pause to look at her, and whatever wall you put up against the bond falls, and Wanda's overwhelmed again.

It was like when she first felt strange, and now she knew it was you. You couldn't even keep up a wall to avoid sharing your feelings because it was bleeding through. 

"I'm sorry," you bury your face into her neck, "but you didn't know and I need you to know."

"I know," Wanda massages the back of your neck, feeling her bite warm. "You're not very good at hiding."

You pulled back to look at Wanda again, assessing her face.

Stoic, but Wanda knew better now.

It was a raw, unrelenting fire.

You tangle your fingers in her messy hair. "So pretty," you muttered again before pulling her close, and Wanda enjoyed the burn. 

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #avengers imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #Elizabeth olsen x reader #mm: my fics #mm.drabble.wanda

[aventurne]

PICK A CARD, ANY CARD❞ - aventurine

summary: in which you take a gamble and draw a card

warnings: reader is gn, fluff

notes: late birthday gift for user @rainswept, happy birthday crow <3

taglist(open): @akutasoda , @ryuryuryuyurboat , @toorurs , @yvnaology , @tragedy-of-commons , @staarri , @rainswept , @karagatan02 , @https-mika

any conversation of yours with AVENTURINE has always never ended well if it started with the words “wanna take a gamble?”. he shuffled the cards in front of you, spreading them out with such expertise that you were left gaping at the swift movement of his fingers. did you ever think you had the willpower to say no to him, your body moving on its own as you nodded your head? you were a fly caught in his honey-like trap, stuck and bound to him for the rest of your life, and honestly, it wasn't that bad.

he drummed his fingers on the table, the rings decorating his gloved hands shining under the chandelier, creating a sparkling illusion of light shining through the lens of a kaleidoscope.

“what are we betting on this time?” you huffed, trying to feign a look of resignation, though he didn’t buy it much to your dismay. “surely you’ll win once more.” the cards were different today; they don’t bear the insignia his usual deck uses; they are branded with the logo of a spade and decorated with the signature colour of the aventurine stone. it sparks your curiosity slightly, which comes with wariness. you’ve fallen prey to his traps numerous times, even with the blaring alarms and warning signs blaring in your head.

“don’t back out now. just pick a card, any card.” he feigned a pout, rose-tinted glasses accentuating the hue of his eyes like a hypnotic spiral. you quickly averted your gaze; any longer, you’d be under his spell. you rolled your eyes at him, though you didn’t feel annoyed at him. if anything, your curiosity got the better of you at what the contents of these cards lay. “i didn’t know that stonehearts could do tarot readings.” you teased him, your smile a borderline grimace.

“i try my best to be versatile,” he said casually as your hands hovered over them, your fingers hesitating to pick one out. AVENTURINE waited eagerly with a smirk on his face that only added to the pressure of your decision. when they landed on a card, his grin widened even more, and you couldn’t help but feel your stomach drop.

“well, what does it say?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the apprehension in your voice. his eyes gleamed mischievously as he leaned forward, his voice low and playful. “it seems, my dear friend, that fate has dealt us an interesting hand. the card you've chosen reveals a hidden desire.” your heart skipped a beat as he paused for dramatic effect, the anticipation almost unbearable.

“what desire?” you pressed, a crease forming in between your eyebrows at his words. he had to resist the urge to smooth it out with his fingers.

he chuckled softly, showing the card, which is written in the delicate scrawl of his handwriting. “it appears that i’m taking you out on a date,” he declared, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that it sent a rush of warmth through your veins.

you blinked, momentarily taken aback. this revelation caught you off guard, and for a moment, you're unsure how to respond. his confident demeanour is both captivating and intimidating, something you’ve always either admired or feared about him. you’re right where AVENTURINE wanted you, at a loss for words and a fumbling mess, and he looked up at you, grinning like a devil.

“you’re joking, right?” you managed to choke out, a mixture of disbelief and amusement tingling your tone.

“absolutely not,” he replied smoothly, his expression earnest beneath the playful facade. “consider it a wager fulfilled. so, what do you say?” you find yourself caught between amusement and intrigue.

a night out with him—a prospect that's both thrilling and unpredictable. despite the theatricality of it all, there's a genuine sincerity in his eyes that's hard for you to ignore and push away; dismiss it as something less. so you agreed, nodding your head and trying to ignore the rising flush of your cheeks like the red of rubies and scarlet wine poured in wine glasses.

the thrill of the gamble has evolved into something entirely different—a game of hearts that’s raised the stakes and promised higher rewards. you can’t help but take his hand and pray that the dice rolls in your favour this time.

© AVENTURNE 2024. DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD MY WORKS ONTO ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION

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