#bed friends analysis

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Mommy Dearest 2.0

This time it's about Bed Friend!

And it's not about the mothers in Bed Friend as much as it is about everyone's favorite Walking Green Flag: King and how he is Thinking, Watching, Evaluating Uea and his relationship to his mother. Because I've been thinking about this a lot since Episode 4 and I just haven't gotten around to writing about it yet.

Within five minutes of this show airing, we as an audience know exactly what Uea's relationship to his mother is. We know how completely and precisely she is responsible for his trauma both in the past and in the present. But no one else does.

King certainly doesn't.

But, King is perceptive, and King, by way of the narrative, is present for (or the cause of) a great number of Uea's triggers throughout the show so far. And he has no context for them outside of his own observations, but again, King is perceptive.

So the lights go out and Uea crumples in the parking lot. And at this point, maybe King doesn't know what happened (that Uea is scared of the dark) he just knows Uea is having a strong reaction to something.

Uea sees the abuse he has suffered at the hands of his mother

King sees a panic attack.

So Uea and the rest of the office go out for drinks and Uea sits in the back and watches everyone have fun, until he is alone in the bathroom and gets a text.

Uea sees the abuse of filial piety at the hands of his mother

King sees Uea's sudden shift in behavior from being introverted and sipping a drink in the corner, to drinking everything in sight

Shout out to reflections in this show for giving me endless moments of King looking at Uea.

Episode 2

King is grappling with his guilt and concern for Uea in the aftermath of their one night stand, and he (as usual tbh) spends a lot of his time staring right at Uea. Trying to pick apart every facial expression Uea makes.

Uea gets a call

and the next thing King knows Uea is rushing out of work early, panicked and heading to the hospital. And so he tries to help by driving Uea there.

What Uea sees is his mother, whose accident was not super severe, manipulating him, blaming him for the accident, and once again asking him for money, in a way he isn't able to ignore or avoid.

Uea has his typical shut down reaction to the interaction, but crucially in episode 2, King is there to witness Uea's relationship to his mother. He's able to see the way Uea's mother demands money from him, he's able to better contextualize Uea's behavior changes.

And when Uea's mother leaves after being given way too much of both Uea and King's money, where are King's eyes trained?

Right at Uea, and the entire exchange in the hospital when King enters the scene, King keeps looking between Uea's mother and Uea, trying to analyze the situation.

""You heard all that, didn't you?" "Yes," "I'm...sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

And this moment is great to me because we have a #respectfulKing on our hands who will not pry, or push Uea to tell him anything. He doesn't act expectant or entitled to any context or backstory of Uea's that might help explain this situation. But as we, the audience, know, King is in love with Uea, and as such I think King really wants to set himself up to be a safety zone for Uea. He wants Uea to feel comfortable, he wants Uea to feel loved, and we won't know that Uea trusts King like that until he starts talking about his history.

So King still doesn't know Uea's trauma history, but he wants to, he wants Uea to know that he has someone that cares, and so King starts to shift how he approaches conversations with Uea. Sometimes, very intentionally, and sometimes not, but every time he does it has the effect of hitting on some very specific parts of Uea's trauma.

When they get STD testing: "Why are you embarassed? We didn't do anything wrong." King might be able to sense Uea's shame/internalized homophobia, he certainly saw the panic in Uea's eyes when his Mom asked "Is this your boyfriend?" but I don't think he understands how strongly he is striking at the root of Uea's issues. His mother used to lock him in the bathroom, tell him she would beat him to death, and call him a slut. Having casual, one-night stand style sex is anxiety and guilt inducing for Uea because it meets his definition of 'slut', something he never felt like he was allowed to be.

This post is Uea's mother (and family) specific so I won't really get in to the P'Pock trauma here, but King is present to witness Uea turn and try to hide his face when he sees Pock from across the mall, and that is another thing he takes and files away.

Because King is so finely honed in on Uea's emotions (and because Uea is very obvious with his emotions), King knows something is still bothering Uea after their STI test and after dinner and he navigates a conversation about the differences people can have and want from sex, intimacy, and love. Once again striking at the crux of Uea's issue, the internalized homophobia Uea has had beaten in to him by his mother.

Episode 3

King has now seen how Uea interacts with his mother, has gotten a better understanding of his personal perceptions on sex and love, has seen him have at least one panic attack, and King is trying to fill in the blanks from there.

So Uea gets these texts in the middle of a conversation with King

"Are you avoiding my calls?" "I'm just asking for a little bit of money," "You have to come home this Sat," "Your Dad asked about you," "Don't accept the call?"

And where is King looking? Right at Uea's phone. But I don't think he's reading the messages, honestly it's probably too far away and the message are coming in pretty fast. But I'm sure that King is at the very least, able to see that Uea is getting spammed with messages from his mother, and he's able to see the way Uea's body language changes as a result.

"What happened, Uea?" King asks, because he is concerned, because he sees the way Uea retreats into himself whenever his mother is involved.

"My Mom wants me to go home," Uea replies

"You should go home,"

Now, the "you should go home," statement I find very interesting considering the conversation on Episode 4 this whole post is leading up to. That King of all people would see how Uea and his mother interact with one another and suggest that Uea go home. I think here King misinterprets what Uea is saying. By that I mean, I think Uea is actually answering King's "what happened?" as if he is answering "what's wrong?' and King is assuming that Uea is deflecting the question and just making a general statement "I have to go home tonight." King saying "you should go home," is him telling Uea it's okay to bail on whatever plans they may have been floating about hooking up that evening.

"King...tonight you can come if you want to,"

We've seen it before and we will see it again, Uea processes and regulates his emotional state through sex, through physical intimacy.

"You don't go home?"

Finally! Some semblance of an admission from Uea that something is wrong. Some honesty and a nod that Uea is starting to trust in King. King sees that and takes the opportunity to try and determine the extent of the trust he is being given.

"Are you okay, Uea?" and to me, it demonstrates a shift in their relationship, that Uea doesn't lie. He still can't tell King the truth, that he's not okay. He still can't put his emotional vulnerabilities out into the world like that, but he can stop pretending that he's okay. He can simply not respond and therefore give King the honest answer.

Throughout the show, one of Uea's coping mechanisms is sex, to seek out joy and pleasure from physical intimacy since he can't rely on emotional intimacy.

Shout out to the translation of the background OST music

It's important to me that we are shown a moment of non-sexual intimacy between King and Uea rather than sex immediately after the conversation about home. Not that sex is inherently wrong, obviously that is not the case, but because their relationship started with sex and needs to grow into something with a strong and healthy foundation. Because we need to see, and Uea needs to see that King cares for him outside of what his body can provide. Uea needs to see that King is not just in this for the sex, but that he wants more from it. So we get this lovely little moment...

...and then King accidentally triggers Uea. Uea sees his stepfather, and King sees

Fear.

Honestly, thinking about color analysis the fact that when Uea is talking about not going home he is absolutely suffocating under all that yellow, a color we know is associated pretty heavily with his childhood under the guise of striving for happiness, wishing and hoping for it. And when Uea is triggered and incapable of hiding his emotional state, he is surrounded by clear glass???? (Thoughts @respectthepetty?)

Another panic reaction from Uea, and King has yet another indication that something is wrong. Now, again we as the audience have been made aware that Uea's step-dad is the reason why he is reacting this way. But King doesn't have that same knowledge.

What he does have, is the knowledge of the previous conversation where Uea mentions he hasn't been home in a long time. What he does have, is the entire exchange in the hospital.

So though he can't know exactly what it is that caused Uea's reaction in this scene, and he can't know for sure that it has to do with Uea's family. King definitely has to know by now that something is wrong with Uea's family.

And after Uea has processed his own emotions at the memory of his childhood and he invites King back, King reaches out again to Uea. Trying to get a better understanding of why it is Uea is engaging in this FWB in the first place. And Uea says something he believes but that is fundamentally untrue, "I guess I just want to fuck up my life more," and we know this is untrue because King has been nothing but kind, attentive, devoted, open, and altogether healthy with Uea from the start of their FWB agreement.

But again, Uea is starting to trust King, so he follows up his half truth with a whole one "My life isn't great after all," and this is the truest thing I think Uea has ever said to King.

And it's important to me too, that Uea is actively and currently experiencing trauma by way of Pock in this show, and that King is around to witness all of that. Because it forces Uea and King to have conversations about it, it shows Uea that King cares about him, that he would fight for and protect him, it makes King fully aware that Uea has a lot of shit going on. It shows Uea how King does navigate potentially traumatizing situations with Uea and the that he doesn't pity or coddle Uea, but he does care, and he does check in, and he does want to genuinely know what is wrong.

And he can do that with Pock because Uea can't avoid talking about Pock when King is the one literally prying Pock off of Uea. But King wasn't there for Uea's childhood abuse, he wasn't there for the dinner at Uea's Mom's house, he is completely oblivious to the extent of Uea's childhood trauma. So he has to wait for Uea to come to him about it. He has to wait for Uea to trust him enough to share that part of himself.

Where previously Uea has retreated from everyone when actively triggered, not upset or frustrated like when he gets texts about money from his Mom but actually and actively coming down from flashes, this time he seeks King out. He is finding more comfort in King, so he calls when he could be alone. And he tries to push his emotions down, he tries to drown them out in King but this is too fresh, and King is too aware of Uea...

"Uea, is everything alright? You look anxious,"

"A little bit,"

Please picture me rubbing my hands together with glee. UEA IS HONEST! WITH HIS FEELINGS! AFTER MEETING WITH HIS MOTHER!! and King stops the physical interaction. He will not take advantage of Uea's emotional compromise. He wants Uea to be calm, he wants Uea to be regulated. Again he doesn't push or pry, he just helps Uea redirect his anxious energy in to self care. He gives Uea a birthday cake.

And boom!

Another accidental hit at a fundamentally horrible life experience of Uea's. His mother completely ignoring his birthday, leaving him to celebrate alone with only a candle. King gives him cake, shows him he cares, Uea has a chance to celebrate his birthday. And you can tell in the scene how touched Uea is that King did this for him.

But still Uea won't talk to King about it. So I think it's at this point King starts changing tactics. He will start opening up to Uea and see where that gets him.

"I'm tired,"

"What happened?"

"It's about my mom. She called me to come home. Do you have any plans for this weekend? Can I go to your room?"

"What? Don't you come home? You told me your Mom wants you to,"

(cough cough DIRECT PARALLEL cough)

"Yes she wants me to. But I don't. She's a grumpy lady,"

and GOD THANK YOU JAMES FOR UEA'S REACTION TO THIS CONVERSATION BECAUSE IT IS EXQUISITE.

I wish I had a gifset to do it proper justice, but the way Uea is doing mental calculus here, the recognition, the surprise, and the hesitation he is portraying in having Uea initiate this conversation?

When I watch this scene I can't shake the feeling that there is this little, hopeful part of Uea that wants King to say "Yes," that that might be the thing that pushes Uea to be honest with King. To tell King the truth of what he's been through at this hands of his mother and step-father.

...but King says "Not exactly," and starts talking about his brother the perfectionst and Uea just...

shuts down. Because King has said the wrong thing, because Uea has decided that King would not understand what he has been through if he is complaining that his mother is grumpy because he doesn't meet his brother's standards. And while that is something that I do this Uea related to (seeing as he is the unwanted child who gets no love from his parents compared to his sister) to have King say he doesn't really have problems with his family makes me think that Uea does not think that King has an abuse problem with his family.

And because Uea, despite the way his family treated him relative to his sister, loves his sister dearly, while King seems to harbor some resentment towards his own brother.

And this is the fascinating part of this show for me, this is the scene I keep coming back to because I think this is the scene that sets the rest of the events in motion with Uea and King. Because King's mother is going to start getting in the way of their relationship. Because King is trying to get Uea to open up to him here. He is trying to be vulnerable with his feelings about his mother to Uea in the hopes that Uea will be open about his feelings about his mother. But King fundamentally misunderstands how terribly Uea is has been treated. King fundamentally misunderstands how much of the triggers he has witnessed from Uea are from his parents as opposed to from Pock.

If King had said "yes, I do have problems with my family" in this scene I whole-heartedly believe that Uea would have told him the truth about his own troubles here.

Uea is desperate to trust King, he is certainly already in love with King by this point. (If you had to ask me, Uea realized he was in love with King in episode 3 when King checks up on him outside after Pock harasses him the first time). But he's been hurt so much, and fundamentally believes that he is un-loveable, so every moment where there is a possibility of betrayal makes Uea retreat further and further.

Uea wants to trust King and we know this because when they are alone in the pool, Uea starts telling King about Lampang, about his cousins there, about how he is from there. We know this because when Uea's drunk and he therefore has less control over the wall he has built, he is the one to initiate intimacy with King. Not sexual intimacy, romantic intimacy, on the beach, at sunset.

And so the test begins.

Episode 5

Unfortunately for King, his mother is continuing to get in the way of him and Uea becoming official.

We know Uea is moving towards changing the status of his relationship to King from FWB to boyfriends, because he starts trying to test King's limits. He doesn't allow King a "reward" for not having sex with him when he was drunk, he starts telling King that he's met the weekly quota, he starts citing their rules more. If King can respect these, if King still wants to hang out with Uea when he knows that sex is not on the table, then surely King must feel the same way that Uea does.

And King, knowing that Uea trusts him more, that he's testing him, but that he's also tolerating King pushing their rules a little bit, has another opportunity to try to get Uea to fully open up to him when they go to dinner. When Uea gets the text from his mother asking about money. When King looks at him, concerned, and says "Uea,"

But before he can ask Uea anything, before he can check up on Uea at all...

King's mother calls, and sets everything in motion. King is being sent on an arranged date. King wants Uea to trust him. King wants Uea to fight for them. King wants to know where he is at with Uea and Uea is too scared of getting hurt, and so he ignores the question. He tells King that only King is able to decide if he wants to go on the date on or not. King spends so much of Episode 5 after this conversation trying to show Uea that he doesn't want anyone else.

And King gets that final confirmation that he is a safe zone for Uea when the lights go out at the end, and he is able to calm Uea down just from telling him he will hold him through the night. This is also a great indication to King that Uea has a fear of the dark, since technically in the first episode King would not necessarily have been able to connect the dots between the lights going off in the garage and Uea having a panic attack.

Episode 6

Uea and King are circling around each other, King is ready to admit. Uea is trying to throw out hints that he would say yes to being boyfriends if King asked him.

And King was going to, on the phone, you could see it!

But NO! No he doesn't ask here, because he wants it to be special! Because why would he ask Uea to be his boyfriend on a fake phone call when he could ask Uea to be his boyfriend on a beach vacation?

And Uea realizes this, because uea is smart. Because uea understands the implications of "I haven't felt this way in a long time," because Uea is hopeful that King feels the same way he does. And he's excited for the first time in a long time about something, and then King's mother gets involved. And King's mother makes him go on a date, and King isn't capable of standing up for himself and for Uea against his mother.

And King tries! King tries to see Uea, tries to get out of the date. Tries everything he can besides actually standing up to his mother to show Uea that he cares about him. To show Uea that he wants him, not whatever woman King's mother is trying to set him up with. But King hasn't had the chance to learn about Uea the way he needs to. King has tried time and time again to get Uea to open up to him, to talk about the strained relationship King knows exists, but doesn't understand to its fully extent.

And as a result of the shame, the self-loathing, the betrayals Uea has suffered time and time again at the hands of the people who are supposed to love him, he will not fight for him and King because he knows how the story ends.

It ends up with Uea alone, except this time he did it to himself. This time he broke King's heart in the process.

ok haha oops, I did it again with the essay. Gold star to anyone who read this whole thing.

#bed friend #bed friend the series #bed friends the series #kinguea #ueaking #king x uea #uea x king #jamesnet #netjames #domundi #mandee channel #bed friends analysis #bed friend analysis #bed friend ep 1 #bed friend ep 2 #bed friend ep 3 #bed friend ep 4 #bed friend ep 5 #bed friend ep 6

[gophergal]

jumping on the trend. I have never felt so mainstream in my picks

#gopher art #team fortress 2 #meet the tf2 artist #tf2 medic #and i relate to medica lot but i have more in common with heavy weapon man #tf2 heavy #tf2 demoman #heavymedic #red Oktoberfest #all fast sloppy doodles before bed #am leepy and love meem #i love every merc. yes even spy. they're all so fucked up #but unfortunately i have medic on the brain so fucking often. i love him. he rotates so easily #im very parental friend. the “you need to eat something/hydrate/sleep” friend #and im also the strong guy that likes throwing around my weight #love lift big object #and im fond of reading and analysis #so again. im short beboobled heavy #like if he were 5'5“ and had an inconveniently large rack #(tags out of order because hellsite. sorry)

[uptoolateart]

Sentimonsters vs Frankenstein's Monster

My six-year-old says Adrien can't be a sentimonster because he's too nice...and I'm back here with another essay.

I think some of our views on sentimonsters are wrapped up in our linguistic connotations for the word 'monster'. It has an interesting origin, probably related to words like 'demonstrate' or 'remonstrate'. Monsters are creatures that indicate or show us something...maybe about ourselves.

When Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, she used 'monster' to refer to something unnatural, made by man rather than God. This has precedent in older tales such as the minotaur, who was monstrous for being an animal-human hybrid and therefore also unnatural, not as the gods intended. Usually in such stories, the monsters are hidden, the way we try to hide the 'monstrous' parts of ourselves.

When the sentimonsters were first introduced into Miraculous, they seemed 'monstrous' in the horror sense, e.g. Feast. When senti-Ladybug showed up, we saw that 'monster' could refer to any living being created by a human rather than being naturally brought into this world by whatever means you believe we end up here.

As soon as you start thinking of Frankenstein, the parallels just keep coming, so here we go!

Gabriel vs Victor

The most obvious parallel is that of Gabriel Agreste vs Victor Frankenstein. Victor first decides to create his monster after his mother dies. Grief and love drive him to rebel against nature and reanimate the dead.

Similarly, Gabriel is driven to find the miraculous after the death of his wife. He too seeks the means to reanimate someone. Gabriel has also created life by unnatural means. At the very least, this is Felix and Kagami. I believe Adrien is also a sentimonster. (If you know the answer via leaks, please don't confirm this in comments, as I am watching in order and avoiding all spoilers.)

In the novel, the monster kills Victor's wife. If the full senti-Adrien theory holds true, then he indirectly and unknowingly killed Emilie.

In his grief, Victor drops out of society and sinks deeper and deeper into his project, hiding away in his laboratory, fueled by ambition. Gabriel too dropped out of the public eye and went into his lair, obsessed with his own ambitions. Obviously neither of them ever heard any zombie stories, or they would have known it never goes well.

Family / Acceptance / Appearances

The key journey throughout Frankenstein is the monster's search for love, family and acceptance. He is rejected by his creator - whom he calls 'Father' - just as Adrien is not truly accepted by his father Gabriel.

The monster seeks a new family, finding one living in the woods, on the fringes of society, as if this is the only way to find true warmth. The family consists of a brother and two sisters, and the monster wishes to be their brother. One sister is blind and befriends the monster based on his kindness. It is only when the others finally meet him that he's rejected, because they are repelled by his appearance. Interestingly, the brother is named Felix....

Probably if the monster had looked like Adrien, this family - and everyone else in the novel - would have been won over. In fact, Miraculous makes such a point of describing Adrien as 'the image of perfection' that it could be seen as a purposeful contrast with Frankenstein, as if Gabriel learned from Victor's mistakes.

The novel suggest that if you're ugly on the outside, it can make you ugly on the inside...but only because people will react badly to you and hurt you so much that you will be bent and twisted with resentment and rage. In Miraculous, we have beautiful people like Adrien, Felix and Kagami. Society reacts to them well - so what does that make them inside? Felix is perhaps the most interesting part of this because he's quite ugly inside, despite looking just like Adrien on the outside. The show suggests that appearances can be deceiving, a message we see again and again through the theme of masks and hidden identities. It also suggests that we can be more than we were 'made' or groomed to be - a point we'll come back to later.

But let's remember that everyone on Miraculous has a shadow, a hidden darkness - the monsters they don't want anyone to see. These come out when people get akumatised. It's love and warmth that bring us back into the fold, as it were. Perhaps if Frankenstein's monster had a Marinette, he would have had a different fate, just as Ladybug saves Adrien from being doomed to an eternity as Cat Blanc.

Loss of Innocence / Kindness and Forgiveness

Frankenstein's monster has the appearance of an adult (sort of) but he is a child, a newborn seeing the world with fresh eyes. Similarly, Adrien begins Miraculous sheltered from the world, getting his first taste of society when he enrolls in school.

In Frankenstein, the monster seems to be the only character who demonstrates compassion and forgiveness of others' transgressions. There is a kind of childishness to it, a naivety. Kids are always shocked when they get hurt. They have to learn to put up boundaries and protect themselves. The adult world is, unfortunately, full of selfishness and hurtfulness and corruption (along with goodness!).

Frankenstein is a story populated entirely by adults, so there really is no reprieve from the cynicism and bleakness. In Miraculous, we see this from the adults, too - but there are other kids, and many of them are basically kind and loving. Even so, Adrien is arguably the most forgiving, patient, compassionate character. We could see this as part of his innocence, and the loss of that innocence is another similar theme. Both he and the monster slowly have their eyes opened to the cruelties humans are capable of.

They both also learn what cruelties they are capable of - although Adrien hasn't truly discovered this yet, because Marinette has hidden the Cat Blanc episode from him. He needs to know so he can face, accept and deal with his own inner darkness. Otherwise, it will always be waiting in the wings for him.

The Search for Identity

A crucial feature of Frankenstein was the monster's search for identity and a path. He was a blank slate, unsure who he was. And can we even say 'he'? He was made from male body parts but he never grew up as a boy - he never grew up at all. He just entered the world fully formed (sort of) and was expected to insinuate himself into adult life. Who even was he?

We see this mirrored in episodes like Wishmaker, where Adrien reveals what a blank slate he is. I won't go into this here, because I talked about this in depth in my Kagami analysis after Perfection. If he learns he's a sentimonster, it just compounds it - although I won't go into this here because I've spent 107,000 words going into it in one of my current fics...let's not add that to a Tumblr post...! Suffice to say, he will have a lot to process.

Fate vs Free Will

At the novel's conclusion, Victor Frankenstein is killed by his own creation. It's poetic justice - or karma - or simply inevitable. Mary Shelley subtitled Frankenstein 'A Modern Prometheus Story', referring to the old tale of Prometheus attempting to steal fire from the gods and being punished for getting above himself. I suppose we are all waiting for Gabriel to receive his punishment, and there is an expectation that a lot of it has to come from Adrien himself,. Indirectly, it has, because it was his cataclysm that caused Gabriel to start falling to pieces. However, crucially, Gabriel was the one who used that cataclysm on himself, which sets Miraculous apart from Frankenstein in a big way.

Last night, a friend asked me: 'Does [Adrien being a sentimonster] not cheapen his whole journey about breaking free from the abuse? Because he can't, because it's magic...versus it just being that it's hard emotionally when it's someone you love.'

I think this needs to be looked at symbolically. A big part of Frankenstein was the exploration of the idea of genetics (a new concept in that era) vs upbringing - nature vs nurture. Did the monster ever stand a chance? Similarly, did Adrien? Or Felix? Or Kagami? Are they - and therefore we - all victims of programming? Can they / we ever break free of that programming? Do we get some kind of exemption card if we never break free, because we were doomed to destiny?

I'll liken this to other genetic conditions. I have Tourette's Syndrome, which means there are a lot of things I can't do - like underwater swimming. But you know...maybe I can, because I used to think I could never drive, too. Then, years later, I decided to take lessons and discovered that it's perfectly safe for me. I found ways to overcome the disability.

We can apply this to all kinds of people - think of athletes and musicians missing limbs, for instance, or Beethoven continuing to compose music even long after he'd gone deaf. Humans are capable of the most remarkable things, if they want it enough.

We all start with a kind of programming - that genetic code, our family set-up, and so forth. What cannot be programmed is our emotional and behavioural responses to that programming. When our emotions conflict with our programming, it's painful. Overcoming that programming is hard.

We see Adrien being controlled by the ring, forced to obey his father. However, he still feels things beyond that. In Risk, he tells Marinette he keeps wanting to tell his father things but he feels a block in his mind. There is a line he can't cross. We can say he's been made this way.

Taken symbolically, a lot of kids feel this way. Parents don't need magic rings to control and manipulate their children or demand that they be the people the parents want them to be. Adrien's struggle is actually the same struggle so many teenagers go through. This is one of the key aspects of Miraculous I have always related to.

If Adrien is indeed a sentimonster, he has been designed (groomed) to feel deep discomfort at opposing his father, to the point where it feels as if he's attacking himself. To break free of Gabriel's control and abuse is to discard everything he was raised to believe he was. He will truly be a blank slate, starting over entirely. Without Gabriel dictating who he is...who is Adrien Agreste? He will be a newborn again, in a nearly adult body - just like Frankenstein's monster.

As someone who grew up in a household of abuse, I went through all of this myself. I don't think the sentimonster angle cheapens this journey. I think it is a fantastical idea that serves as an allegory for something very real that many people go through.

And as we grow up...well, there's only so much that you can blame on your father. Frankenstein's monster may have had every reason to hate his creator, but they were still his hands around Elizabeth's throat, and it was still him who killed Victor in the Arctic. Adrien can blame Gabriel for plenty, but crucially in Cat Blanc, when he found out the truth and was prepared to cataclysm his own father, he held back at the last second. He didn't cross the line the monster crossed, and that's because of free will.

They may both have been programmed in some way, and that's the fate side of things that can be likened to genetics. But we're more than just a jumble of DNA, and Adrien is more than the magic I believe created him. So is Felix, and that makes every bad thing Felix has ever done 100% on him to atone for.

We could get tangled up in thoughts like: 'Maybe Adrien was just made so good that he could never knowingly cataclysm his father,' or, 'Maybe it was the block in his mind that stopped him.' But I don't believe this. Fate decided that cataclysm would happen anyway, but it was Gabriel who did it to himself.

We all have choices and Adrien made the crucial one - the choice not to become like his father. Because ultimately, Frankenstein poses the question: 'Who is the true monster in this story?' The answer, as we all know, is Victor himself...although his creation becomes monstrous as the story progresses. In the same way, Gabriel is the monster of Miraculous.

The difference is that Adrien makes better choices and is surrounded by the love he needs to keep him on a better path than Frankenstein's monster. Through his friends, especially Marinette/Ladybug, he is finding the family the monster wanted so desperately but never had. The monster concluded that he needed Victor to make him an equally monstrous companion because no one else would ever accept him. Adrien does not need to resort to this.

Adrien may be a 'sentimonster' but he will never be a 'monster'.

Please no post-Perfection spoilers in the comments :)

#My friend says oh I have a sentimonster question for you #I say ahhhh I was just about to go to bed #She says no it won't take long #I write a Tumblr post to answer her #ml meta #mlb meta #ml analysis #mlb analysis #sentimonster adrien #adrien sentimonster theory #adrien is a sentimonster #sentimonster felix #sentimonster kagami #ml sentimonster #sentimonster theory #ml adrien #adrien agreste #frankenstein #victor frankenstein #ml gabriel #gabriel agreste's a+ parenting #gabriel agreste #felix fathom #kagami tsurugi #free will #fate #destiny #ml s5 spoilers #ml s5 #mlb s5

[ichigokeks]

I just need to point out the way King looked at Uea blowing onto the glass. There was so much want in his eyes, emotional and sexual. He already likes Uea so much more than he is aware of or would admit.

#better late than never #bed friend #bed friend the series #netjames #net siraphop #james supamongkon #thai bl #domundi tv #bed friend edit #bed friend ep 2 #bed friend analysis

[justinefrischmanngf]

this is exactly what i moved here for and it’s a good thing like 98% of the time but oh my god i’m literally all alone in this city……….

#my manager was talking about how he and his bestie and their friend are going to their friend’s in laws’ for eid tonight #and my manager was saying that that friend of theirs doesnt have any family in this city (and tbf idt my manager does either??) and so him a #and his bestie are always there for whenever he needs them #and idk it just hit me how enormously alone i am here #i’m not even religious so idk why eid was the thing like of all the times ppl have mentioned their friends #i need to get out of bed and do my laundry and i have a msg from my dad i havent opened so i shld reply to thaf #esp if i’m feeling like this but idk. it’s the first time i’ve rly felt like . struck by it in a way that has been bad #like i’ve missed people and i’ve been struck by the fact that i’m alone #but never in a negative way or a like . idk . oh i wish i had people way #but idk maybe i do wish that a little bit rn……….. #i think . idk i think a lot of things and it’s not the time for self analysis on tumblr #being in a place where i am alone was and is important to me rn and i think good for me #but i don’t have anyone in this city who i can put down as my emergency contact for anything and so it’s still my mum even for things she #doesn’t know i’m doing #and that’s very very weird #idk why i’m so emosh i’ll probably see my family at the end of this month for this family event and i’ll want 2 be free of them all #IDK MAN ITS JUST A LOT!!!! idw do my laundry

[klonoadoortophantomile]

everyone always seems to have this crazy story of how they got into object shows but i literally just got into them cuz my brother made me watch them with him

#half of my interests ive gotten into them becuz of him in one way or another.. #but yeah he was really into bfdi back in like 2016/2017? i dont remember exactly #and i ended up enjoying it a lot #i remember one time i saw my sister watching ii2 and i though 'wow another shitty bfdi ripoff 🙄' #little did i know it was gonna overtake my brain for like four entire years #oh yeah i started watch ii becuz i walked in on my brother watching ii2 episode 6 and was like 'wait this is pretty good' and binged #all of season 2 afterwards. i didnt want to touch season 1 at all #specifically becuz i hated the animation style and audio quality. i had no idea abt its reputation among most other fans until much more #recently if im being honest? i did watch it like a fewmonths after i got really into ii though #i only remember this becuz i have vivid memories of quoting mephone4s constantly with my friends #(oh yeah i got pretty much all of my friends into object shows too. i was that kind of friend) #inquisitivewaltz.txt #but yeah i got back into object shows this march of this year after not caring abt them for like.. two years i think #(my timeline mgiht be a bit wonky im just going off of vague memory) #becuz i rewatched ii (i dont rememebr why) and i was like. ohhh okay i remember why i was so obsessed with this show #and i was mostly thinking abt that for a while.. rewatched season 2 episode 14 for the first time (only saw #it one time when it released lmao) #and caught up with season 3. started working on a full analysis of nickel throughout all seasons. i was pretty much #only into ii again but then i got super sick one day #and was in bed the whole time so i was like 'haha ill rewatch bfdi =)' and then it activated something in my brain (autism) and now #im back in object show hell(affectionate) B] #its so weird having techinically been in the community for a real long time. but also not?? #(also i just realized ii wasnt an interest for four years it was like two or three. im a little stupid <//3) #like i started watching before bfb even released but i wasnt actively watching ANY object shows when anything post-split was releasing #(oh yeah i never finished that nickel analysis. i only got up to like kick the bucket before i lost all motivation to finish it and #the bfdi special interest kicked in. still hope i can actually finish it someday) #OKAY i think thats all ill say. i need to stop writing massive walls of text everytime i talk abt smthn <//3 /silly #long post #<- cuz of the tags

[violettaskies]

Of Books & Beasts

Prompt: virginity

Paring: best friend!steve harrington x f!reader

Genre: romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, one bed trope

Notes: wc 9.1k // my first kinktober story (one of five) // hope everyone enjoys it // it’s very soft // a little scary movie night sleep over // reader falls asleep next to steve and things get a little steamy // i wrote everything to have as much consent as possible // steve is a bit of a perv lol

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // slight somnophilia, dry humping, virginity loss, vaginal fingering // masturbation // smut // 'just the tip' is used once or twice // please let me know if there is anymore that need to be added!

ao3 // kinktober masterlist // full masterlist // lazy ghoul’s kinktober prompts

-:-:-:-:-

The night was meant to be a simple one. After weeks of assignments, exams, quizzes, and extracurricular activities at college, all you wanted to do was relax. Well, you still had one more assignment left to do, but maybe you were able to kill two birds with one stone, right? 

Luckily, this assignment was one that you could easily ask for help with from your friend. Someone who always stole movies for you to borrow on many weekends anyways. With your class being based on books which turned into film adaptations, it means a lot of time spent reading and watching. In truth, you felt bad for your classmates who had to rent out the tapes for extended periods just to finish analysis for assignments; all while you didn’t even need to bat an eyelash in Steve’s direction for him to hide movies in your backpack while his manager wasn’t looking. 

With the theme of this particular assignment matching the season and going with horror films, a movie night was something that you craved. Thick sweaters, even thicker blankets, a bit of hot chocolate, and candy from the grocery store that had the orange and black packaging — they were all of the aspects to the marathon you proposed when you walked into Family Video on a Friday afternoon after you got off the bus. Despite all of your convincing tactics, your friend already had his answer long before you began to ask.

“Anything for you, dove. I’ll get everything on this list for us,” Steve smiled at you, after looking at the assignment rubric, as you stood on the other side of the cash register. 

“Alright, maybe I should place a pizza order now so that we don’t starve during the Friday dinner rush tonight,” you said sweetly as you nervously thought about what to order. 

“Don’t you worry about it, it’s on me. Let me treat you a little.” 

“I’m the one who asked you to have a movie marathon with me, I should really be the one paying,” you insisted while you brought your hand closer to the telephone. 

But, quickly, the man was able to grasp it lightly to stop you from moving towards the numbers. You could never admit just how much your skin tingled at the touch. “I’m serious. This shift finishes in twenty minutes, then I can drive us home and I’m all yours. Do whatever you want with me, dove. I can even help out with your stress relief later. Maybe I’ll bend —” 

“Please don’t continue that sentence,” you cut him off easily. Steve always loved to tease you and any eavesdroppers who may be listening in and theorizing if you two were dating or not. The town is full of gossip fiends. “Any louder and people will start to believe you.” 

The younger Harrington chuckled as he got out from behind the counter to stand fully in front of you. He adored to see the way you outwardly pretended you hated the fake moves he would pull. From him putting his arm around your shoulder whilst walking around town, whistling every other time he picked you up from the city bus stop, to intimidating every guy who looked in your direction for too long. However, both of you never knew the other wished for it all to be real. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll be good and stop teasing you,” he chuckled lowly. 

“Thank you,” you smiled to yourself before looking up at Steve with wide eyes. “So will you also be buying garlic knots tonight too?” 

“Yes, as long as you promise to stay awake until the final movie, sleepy girl.” 

-:-:-:-:-

You, in fact, did not stay awake the whole movie night. It wasn’t Tim Curry’s fault either. Normally, it was tradition for you two to end off every evening like this with one musical or something more lighthearted to offset the mood. But the day just exhausted you from every angle, that once you finally got to relax and watch a movie for leisure — you relaxed a little too hard. Adding the components of the cold pizza and Steve putting a blanket on you while continuously keeping a grasp on your knee, you were bound to knock out before the movie ended. Later, it was Steve who woke you up with a whisper in your ear. The sound shocked you at first, and then when you opened your eyes to see the man kneeling in front of you, it did cause a slightly loud gasp to escape your lips. After some groaning on your end about not wanting to intrude, you finally gave in to the invitation Steve gave to let you sleep over tonight. The main contributing factor had to be the fact that the man had a really nice blanket and pillow set that felt like it came from a hotel. 

However, as you both ended off the night in your room, it was Steve who began to groan — although, it was due to pure frustration.

“I don’t have any clean clothes,” your host said as he rummaged through his drawers. 

“How about any sweater and some of those long johns your mother always buys you?” you giggled as you sat on the bed now, reading a book you recently checked out from the library. 

“Or you could always sleep naked, I heard it’s really healthy for you. Plus, I would not mind at — ow,” Steve was on his little sarcastic joke before you threw an old pair of socks at his head. 

“Maybe I should just head home, this feels like such a nuisance to you,” you smiled and whispered shyly. 

Steve really was trying hard to find you something to sleep in. So much so that it caused some sweat to drop on his forehead. But, truly, the man was standing there trying to work up the courage to ask you to put on one of his old swim team sweaters and a cotton pair of shorts he knew would hug your body beautifully. 

Yes, you have slept over before when you were younger. However, those were all planned out with you bringing something from home. Well, there was one emergency where you stayed the night due to a horrific snow storm; but, Mrs. Harrington was there to give you your Christmas present a few weeks early and allow you to sleep in some pyjamas which were covered in cute bunnies. This was the first time you would be here spontaneously alone with Steve — and god, did he feel like all of his prayers were answered. The amount of times he has imagined you laying on his bed, committing the most sinful acts, in various positions and scenarios, could be seen as absolutely perverted. So to have the opportunity to have you on his bed, wearing his clothes, covered in his blanket; it all seemed unfathomable to the man. 

“Here,” Steve exclaimed quickly so that you would actually stay. “Maybe you would be alright with this sweatshirt and some shorts?” 

“This is more than alright. Thank you, Steve,” You skipped off to the washroom to finally get ready for bed and let your friend change into his own pyjamas. 

However, when you got the clothing on, it was so embarrassing to stare into the mirror. Everything fits fine — and on a normal day at home, you would probably wear something similar. But remembering the fact that you would be sleeping next to your best friend was so nerve wracking. It was just a lot shorter than what you would usually wear around him if you did wear a skirt or shorts. You just thanked the heavens that the blanket would be covering your legs so that you didn’t feel as exposed. 

Not that you believed Steve would try anything; not that you didn’t want him to try anything either. But, you were scared of getting so cold and cuddling too close to him like you did last December during the winter storm. Waking up in Steve’s arms caused your heart to flutter so harshly that your heart rate didn’t go down for days. It made you think about how badly you wished you could wake up to his handsome face everyday. Most especially, it made you think about how nicely his leg felt right in between your thighs, and the way it massaged your — 

No. 

This was an innocent sleepover like the thousands that other best friends have had over the years. All you had to do was sleep next to him with a pillow between your bodies and hope you didn’t accidentally roll your way into his arms again. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the heartbreak of knowing that being entwined in each other’s arms would not last forever. 

“Do you want the left or right side of the bed?” Steve called out from the other side of the door, startling you out of your thoughts. 

“Anything is fine,” you replied whilst opening the door. Seeing that Steve was laying in the middle, ready to roll over to whichever side you preferred. The image of him with arms and legs spread out made you giggle. 

“The left side is closer to the lamp if you’d like to read a bit before sleeping,” he said as he shifted over to the ride side of the bed and patted to your new spot. 

“Are you a mind reader or something?” you chuckled between steps.

Steve put the book in the air as you tucked yourself into bed, a nice distance away from him. Once he saw you were comfortable, he placed the book gently in your lap and said: “no, but I could tell your little nap will probably have you staying awake for the next hour or so.” 

“Oh, if the light is gonna bother you then I can turn it off and head to sleep too.” 

The concern in your eyes was absolutely beautiful. As you started up at him with the lamp glowing behind you, you looked like a nymph in the night. And oh how Steve knew he would be the luckiest man alive to sleep next to you. 

“Go ahead, dove. I can sleep through anything,” he whispered lowly whilst rubbing your thigh that was covered by the thick blanket. “What’s it about anyways?” 

You took a deep breath to calm down before speaking. Steve’s touch caused you to feel warm, even more so when he squeezed your thigh every few moments. “Not too sure about the entire plot since I’m only on chapter two. But it’s about a prince and his beast companion. They’ve been best friends for a long time and are going on adventures. This was in the romance section so I’m guessing the best friends fall in love,” you rambled, getting quieter with the last few words. 

What a dream. 

“Is it dirty?” Steve teased as he sunk further underneath the blanket. 

“No, I-I’ve never read a story like that before,” you said sternly. 

“Oh, I believe you,” his voice got deeper and slower with each word, only indicating that he was bound to fall asleep any second. “Have fun reading.” 

They were the last words he said before drifting off to sleep peacefully next to you. Luckily, that meant it was a lot easier to read the rest of the book until you felt your own eyes start closing and the words on the page started to become blurry. 

It was a beautiful story, full of lore and love, a mix of historical fiction and mythology. After reading and watching stories based on the horror genre for a few weeks now, it was nice to have a little bit of a break and just read about love. Your heart started to feel warm and giddy as each page passed — even going as far as quietly giggling when you felt your cheeks feel warm as a result of the prince’s romantic actions throughout the book. You didn’t even notice that you were sinking further and further into the blanket because you were so engrossed in the imaginary world. It didn’t even matter that the angle made your back hurt a little. 

Well, not really. Once you started to feel stiff, you moved into a straighter position. However, you were interrupted by a low and groggy voice. 

“You want to get under here?” Steve asked you through half-lidded eyes and his arm moving to invite you to move even closer into his body. 

Wordlessly, you accepted the offer and went right up to Steve’s body. The book was on his chest while your cheek was at his side. Everything felt so comfortable and domestic — a part of you wished this could last forever. 

But right then, the storyline of the book went on a different path, to say the least. 

You see, the prince got hurt whilst fighting off some evil spirits. He was bleeding everywhere and in so much pain. But the companion, a beautiful wolf-demon, was able to heal his wounds to the point where it wouldn’t be so life threatening. It was so simple, to use a little magic and bandages in hopes of survival, but the author was able to portray it wonderfully. To thank the woman, the prince moved his arms around her to hold her a warm embrace. It was so sweet, just like the position you were in now. However, it took a turn for the romantics. A little too romantic. An activity you definitely were not currently doing with Steve. 

The man kissed her sweetly: from her shoulders, up to her neck, then finally landed on her plump lips. It was beautiful, so serene, accompanied by a drawing of the two in bed with locked lips and legs. Slowly, she started to rock against his leg, adoring the pressure against the place no one had touched before. As she gasped into each kiss, the prince smiled in tandem. Even moving his hips to help the lady feel more pleasure. You wondered how that felt, it was only a slight movement of the hips — there was no way it could feel that good.

But you were so wrong. 

Just as you tried to move positions, Steve moved his leg upwards, moving his thigh right against your heat. It felt so good, to the point where you bit your lip to suppress the whimper that was about to escape your lips. The man next to you, tried to find a better position to sleep in too, moving his legs some more until it found solace as it intertwined with your own legs. 

Fuck, it felt really good. You tried so hard not to move your hips in tandem so that you could amp up the pleasure. So instead, you continued to read, trying to focus on the writing techniques and nothing else. However, you only began noting the things the characters did with one another. How they whispered sweet nothings as they continued their game to see how long it would take the lady to climax. And you noticed the way you felt warm between your legs, a slight throbbing to seal the deal. 

Maybe in another world you would wake up Steve and ask him to let you out of his embrace so that you could excuse yourself to the washroom and down. But not in this one. In this world, you were at peace in his arms. In this world, you really didn’t care about the throbbing ache between your legs because you were extremely sleepy. In this world, you would convince yourself that it would pass. In this world, the sound of both your hearts beating as one was enough of a lullaby to cause even the most stubborn of characters to sleep. Just as you did now, with the book still on Steve’s chest, and your bodies squeezing closer together. 

-:-:-:-:-

Steve was an extremely heavy sleeper when he was with you. Most of the time, you would be awake first during these little sleepovers and do something before he even pried his eyes open and then decided to keep them shut because of the sun seeping through the windows. It wouldn’t surprise Steve to see you reading at your desk or braiding friendship bracelets when you had that arts n’ crafts phase a couple years ago. This time, however, he was the one who awoke in the middle of the night to movement from beside him. Maybe it was due to some level of paranoia he has gained over the past few years regarding a life that he wishes you would never need to experience. It’s funny that you were reading books with monsters the world has nightmares about, while he was one of the people who was facing them. He wishes so badly to protect you from all of it. So when you started moving in your sleep, something you never do, Steve felt his body wake up in an instant. 

His eyes were having trouble fully opening themselves as he could hear faint whimpering sounds coming from you and slight movements near his thigh. It was enough to turn his head to the left to see what was wrong. But nothing was wrong per se. If anything this was right out of a perverted fantasy he has had millions of times before. 

As his eyes finally came into focus at what was in front of him, Steve could only smile and thank the heavens. You were laying in the same position you initially fell asleep in: book held in your hand, it being face down on Steve’s chest on a particular page, while your own face was on the side of his chest. But, the thing that surprised him the most was the grip your thighs had around his own. Slowly, your hips were thrusting back and forth against his leg, humping over and over. Whenever your body hit the perfect spot against your clit, you would mewl against his chest, sending a vibration through his body. Your hard nipples would poke Steve’s stomach once in a while too. 

Good Lord, he was so distracted by the vision of you thrusting against his thigh, that he didn’t realize just how hard he had become. He only noticed it when your leg tensed up and moved towards his crotch, touching the underside and head in the process. 

You were about to become the death of him tonight. 

Curiously, he picked up the book you were reading to put it on the bedside table, when the words jumped out at him. 

“And then the prince lifted the dress of the maiden beast. How scary she was to the eyes of the kingdom, but how beautiful she looked with swollen lips and lust-filled eyes. She was wet, so wet that it seeped through the layers of clothing.”

Just then, Steve looked down to notice how your wetness was doing the same thing. Your arousal had gone past your shorts and went onto the cotton bottoms he was wearing. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The man skipped a few paragraphs to see just exactly what the prince and his lady were up to. Words of biting, screaming, thrusting harshly against the wall, even scratches along one another’s backs. It was pornographic, it was beautiful, and Steve was shocked that your virgin eyes read through some of this before falling asleep. 

If only he could recreate it with you. Seeing you moan and move to your lust-filled slumber was more than enough of a dream come true to the man. But this was wrong. So wrong. You both were best friends. He loved you, wished he could be more with you. But he believed that wasn’t worthy of you. You were the princess this whole town adored while he was just a former playboy many people seemed to dislike sometimes. There was a part of him that wanted to see how long it would take for you to come against his leg. However, his guilt took over quickly. 

“Wake up, my dove. It’s getting hot in here.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. The mixture of blankets and his arousal made Steve sweat through his clothes easily. 

“Hm? What?” You rolled more onto his chest, your weight atop his body nicely. It would have been the world’s most comfortable position, one that would start off most of his perverted fantasies about you; however, he had to stop himself from thrusting against your thigh that was now perfectly on top of his hardness. “Feels so nice, Stevie,” you murmured, still half-asleep. 

“Fuck — you really like that, huh?” The man whispered as you looked up at him with glazed eyes. You were still not cognizant that what you were doing was not in a dream. 

“I feel so warm down there, your leg is massaging me nicely,” you moaned whilst humping some more. “Kiss me, please.” 

Every move you were doing, every word you were saying, every whimper that came out of your throat — the man has imagined it all before. You were all of his greatest fantasies come to life. He wished so badly to ravish you on the spot and satiate all of the pent-up pleasure your body needed to release. Your lips were swollen now from all of the biting you’ve been doing to quiet down your moans; but, good god, the man was going to memorize it all for the sake of his future sessions with his right hand. 

Steve really needed to stop this, and fully wake you up as soon as possible. This wasn’t the normal you, you didn’t even realize exactly what you were doing. “Pretty girl, no matter how much I want to continue this, we can’t.” The words fell from his lips painfully. 

“Why not? You don’t feel good?” You whimpered as you reached up and put your arms around Steve’s neck, stopping your hips’ movements all together. 

“Feels so good, baby,” Steve moaned loudly this time as he thrusted against your leg like he imagined a million times before. It wasn't helping that you thought your face closer to his in order to hear his breathy moans easier. The man was so close to leaning forward and kissing your plump lips. “But, this isn’t a dream, and you’re not fully awake. I don’t want you to regret this—”

The man was going to ramble on and continue to comfort you into waking up fully. However, you got the message loud and clear. So much so, that your heart dropped and you gasped. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ll move over t-there — ah.” The moan coming out of your mouth was completely involuntary as you lifted your body up and intended on moving down and away from Steve’s figure. 

“Did that feel good?” Steve teased, now that you were both fully cognizant of your sleeping status. 

“I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry.” If only you could apologize a million times, because you would; your guilty conscience would make sure of it. 

“You probably had some sweet dreams, huh?” 

Just as you were separated from the man, you heard his words and looked over at his figure. Through the dim lighting of the lamp, you could see that he was holding up the novel you were reading before bed, and it was open to the very scene that inspired any of your hormone-induced movements tonight. 

“Oh no,” you whispered. Looking down, there was a wet spot on Steve’s thigh where your heat was pressed against. He was admiring it as if he were memorizing just how it looks. And he was. “This is so embarrassing,” you though out loud

“It’s no big deal, dove. Guys have nudie magazines and a video here and there. I would never judge you for a little novel,” Steve chuckled as he sat up to the headboard to mirror your actions. 

“I didn’t know it was going to be like that in the story,” you whispered. 

“Did you like it?” Your friend was genuinely curious. Throughout your history as friends, you had never even asked him for advice about relationships — this erotic chapter of the novel must have been a shocking first exposure to it all. 

You thought about the question for a few moments. Remembering the emotions and fire you felt in different parts of your body, you could really only tell him the truth. “Y-yeah, I suppose so.”  

“Then don’t feel embarrassed or bad about it,” Steve nudged your shoulder sweetly to make you feel less embarrassed over the situation. “Never thought you were into reading it in front of other people though.”

“Don’t tease,” you pouted, putting your head under the blanket to hide from the embarrassment. 

“I’ll stop, I promise. But, you did give me a wonderful way to wake up,” you could hear him smiling just by the sound of his voice. 

Those words made you slowly peek your way out of the thick blanket to see Steve looming over you with a smirk that teased your soul. The lamp in the room made him glow, while the moon’s beams that were seeping through the blinds made him look like one of the many drawings of the prince in the book you were just reading. It took all the strength within you, not to squeeze your thighs together and satiate the throbbing between them. 

“Let’s never talk about this again,” you whispered, the blanket still covering your mouth. 

“If that’s what you would be comfortable with,” Steve chuckled as he laid back in his spot. 

“Y-yes, I would be.” 

After a moment of awkward silence, you both in regular sleeping positions, Steve wanted to break the ice a bit. “It is a well-written book. Maybe I could borrow it sometime.” 

“You’re so annoying,” you giggled, grabbing a small pillow on the bed and lightly hitting his chest with it.

“Learn anything while reading? You could use me as a practice dummy.” The man laid on his side now, looking at you as he put on a seductive tone. 

“You’re just a dummy, Steve,” you playfully scoffed with a giggle. 

“That was the last one, promise. Sweet dreams, dove.” 

In truth, Steve wanted you to sleep as quickly as possible so that he could make his way to the washroom and get rid of his hard problem. It was hurting now, even as he tried to think about anything else that would possibly subside his arousal. Your movements and moans will never be erased from his mind. Steve’s imagination was running wild with how you actually sounded as you were feeling pleasure. 

No one has ever thanked a book more in the history of mankind. 

“Is that what sex is like?” You whispered into the night, cutting off the man’s thoughts. 

“What do you mean?” Steve replied as he turned to his side to look at you staring up to the ceiling.  

“In the book, they talk about it like it happens so fast and hard,” you said the words with a concerned tone while turning your body towards his to face him. 

“Well, it can be fast and hard if the couple wants it that way. But, taking it slow is nice too,” the man next to you chuckled sweetly. 

You felt dumb asking the question. For years, you have known that Steve was a lot more experienced than you in the department of relations with the opposite sex. There have been countless times where Steve would tell you about any dates that he has gone on, or imply lewd acts he committed with his girlfriend of the week. And all you would do is nod out of pure curiosity. However, this was the first time you outright spoke about sex with him. 

“Right, right, that makes sense. It must feel really nice,” you continued your thoughts. 

“It does. Everything is so warm and wet. The noises too are something you’ll never forget. My hand and imagination does not do it justice sometimes.” Right then, Steve’s mind went through flashbacks of times he has laid in bed with the image of you stuck as his muse. He has imagined the way you would react and moan to things he would do with you. Would you bite your lip whilst looking down between your bodies? Would you whimper in the same way you do when you beg Steve to drive you somewhere and he just had a long day at work? Anything you would do would be erotic, and enough fire for him to reach the happiest of endings. However, by the end, he would pray for the day he could experience the real thing with you.  

“I wonder what it will be like for me,” you giggled, bringing the blanket close to your face again. 

“You got a good idea a few minutes ago,” Steve teased as he looked you up and down. 

All you could do was hit his shoulder then hide your face into it as he leaned back onto the bed. “It did feel really, really nice, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You liked it, didn’t you?” he said, trying to soothe your embarrassment of it all. As he squeezed his arm around you tighter to have you closer to his chest, Steve realized that your bare thighs had found their way around his again. You looked so beautiful cuddling next to him, tightening your legs slowly. “Then, maybe I can help. You didn’t get to finish, sweet girl.” 

The deepness of Steve’s voice resonated through your entire body as you looked up at him with desperate eyes. His proposal sounded so good. You felt this constant throbbing between your legs that only increased ten-fold every time you and Steve accidentally breathed too close together. As you gripped his chest with your hands, and his thigh with your own — you really craved to continue the pleasure you were feeling moments before. 

“I didn’t even know that I started,” you pouted. 

“Oh, but finishing is one of the best parts,” he teased whilst moving his thigh upwards to massage your cunt slowly. 

“Steve—” you moaned like music to his ears.

Your friend began to move his thigh up and down to stroke your pussy, hitting your clit from the right angle to make you bite your lip in between whimpers. He held your face sweetly, making sure that he could see how every movement affected you. Steve was sure that the image of your pupils getting darker would be engraved in his mind forever. 

“My best friend needs help, and you know I would do anything for you,” he whispered, hovering his lips above yours. 

“More, please.” 

“So polite,” Steve teased, quickening his pace and moving one hand to your breasts. “Doing such a dirty thing and now you’re being so nice.” 

“I feel so — I feel like I need more,” you said quietly as if it were a desperate plea. 

Steve squeezed your right breast sweetly, pinching your hardened nipple through the thick sweater fabric. He noted how you thrusted yourself against his thigh and nearly fell onto his lips as you moaned. 

“Is your body on fire? You feel nice, dove,” he smiled, kissing your cheek to tease you. 

“So good. Kiss me, Steve, please.” You weren’t sure what took over your body in that moment, but you gripped onto his hair and leaned your lips towards his. Yet, he was the one who kissed you first. It was a kiss that made the angels sing above you, one that you both have been imagining for years and years. Hearing all of the stories of girls in school raving about his talents with his mouth and tongue — a part of you could never believe that he would be that amazing.

But, you were wrong, so wrong. 

As he kissed you deeply, poking his tongue through to taste you more, you couldn’t help but whimper loudly into the kiss. Steve adored it, promising himself to try everything he could to hear every variation of your beautiful sounds. Just when he brought a hand down to your back, urging your hips to move forwards on his leg, you swear you were about to see stars. This is what all the magazines were talking about. This is what all the whispered conversations during girl talk were giggling about. This is what the novel you were just reading was writing about when it came to the pleasures of the flesh. You remembered what the lady did in the book, and decided to emulate her actions. Although you were slowing down your kisses, your hand found its way to Steve’s clothed hardness. It was nearly peeking out of the sweatpant elastic by now which made you gasp in surprise. 

“God, what did you learn in that book?” Steve moaned as he felt your delicate hand on him. 

“The characters in the story were really good friends too. She was always tempted to be the one who helped him out when he was really stressed out.” You smiled into the kiss, noticing how teasing him only made you wetter. 

You hand gripped his hardness some more, focusing on the large head that could be felt through the fabric.

“Here I thought that was going to be my job tonight,” Steve’s voice was low now as he kissed you down your neck and moved the hand that was previously on your back, to your front. The shorts you were wearing rode up to tighten upon your cunt. The fabric squeezed your clit, and caused your arousal to get all over the place where your thighs met. 

Steve pushed the fabric to the side, noticing how you didn’t wear panties to sleep, and started to lightly massage your clit. “Oh God,” you moaned into his mouth while arching your back. 

The movement made Steve want to lay you down on your back to have easier access between your legs. Although you whimpered in slight disappointment when you didn’t feel the pressure of his thigh, that all went away when the man teased your wet entrance with his fingers before going up to your clit again. 

“No panties, huh? You’re bound to be the death of me.” 

“I normally don’t wear any to bed if I’m wearing shorts,” you whispered, moving yourself to feel his fingers more against your nub. 

“Is it alright if I take these off?” He barely got the question out before you began to nod. 

Looking at you in all your glory was absolutely mind blowing to Steve. He swears that he felt his cock twitch in excitement when he saw your arousal dripping on his sheets. The light from the lamp made you look like you were glowing, and the man was so tempted to taste what he has been craving for so long. But, he took it slow, circling your clit faster and faster as he leaned down to kiss you deeply. As every moan was swallowed by him, Steve began to thrust himself upon the side of your hip to satiate his arousal. 

The moment he stopped kissing you for a moment, he wordlessly looked you in the eye, teasing your entrance now with his fingers. With a nod and smile through bitten lips, you gave him full permission to fill your hole that has been desperately throbbing around nothingness.  

“Feels so good, Stevie. Keep doing that, please,” you groaned as he fingered you deeper and deeper. 

“Are you close, dove? Are you gonna come? You’re so tight, can barely fit these two fingers,” Steve teased as he kissed your neck to make you moan louder. 

“More — need more.” The grip you had on his hair became tighter as you pushed yourself down on his hand, nearly fucking yourself on his fingers. Feeling so stretched out was a brand new experience. You were never one to masturbate, even when everyone mentioned it was so much fun. Everything from seeing a hot guy at the mall, a rockstar who was shirtless on the cover of a magazine, or the angle of a showerhead accidentally focusing on a sweet spot — none of those experiences ever happened in your life. In truth, nothing ever made you curious enough to even try to see if other things would have a similar effect. But something about this night made you want to experience it all with Steve. 

The man quickened his pace with his fingers, using one hand to thrust into you while the other massaged your clit sweetly. Your moans echoed through the room as you arch your back in ecstasy. The feeling of Steve’s lips on your throat made you want to thrust against his hand harder, but you were too overwhelmed to move your hips in tandem. Instead, you lifted up your shirt and started to squeeze your lonely nipples. 

You aren’t sure what took over — all you knew was that everything felt so good. 

“Fuck, you really do have the most perfect tits,” Steve whispered to himself when he got up from your neck. He felt your movements and thought something was wrong. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of your swollen nipples, eager for some sort of touch. When he saw your fingers squeeze your right nipple, he could not handle it anymore and dove down to suck on them, leaving marks on your smooth skin. 

“Steve, everything you’re doing feels so good,” you moaned. 

“Are you gonna come for me, baby? I know you can do it.” 

And you did. Loudly. Just those words, working in tandem with his fingers and mouth, were more than enough to make you orgasm into oblivion. Steve had two fingers inside of you whilst his thumb was massaging your clit in small circles. You barely had the strength to tell him how good it felt since you were shaking below him in pleasure. All you could do was grasp Steve’s hair as he kissed one nipple of yours to the next. It was your very first orgasm, and you were welcoming it with open arms. 

“So nice —” you whimpered incoherently. 

Steve kissed you, swallowing in your moans of ecstasy. “I’m never gonna get tired of that sound,” he teased as he took out his fingers from inside of you and just massaged your clit as you got down from your high. 

“So much better than reading a book,” you giggled as your body calmed down. 

“Maybe we gotta find you crazier books then,” Steve smiled with you while kissing your soft lips. 

The kiss became deeper as you embraced one another. Your friend found his way on top of you which felt so surreal. Throughout your friendship, you never believed that some of your naughty dreams that you pushed to the side, would ever come true. Steve was having the same thoughts; however, he never pushed those dreams to the side. More likely, he would take care of any hard problem that was in between his legs. But, kissing you only made him throb harder. Especially now that he knows what your pussy felt like on his fingertips, 

“Again — I can take more,” you whispered between kisses. 

“Needy girl, you really want to?” Steve asked, making sure this wasn’t a dream for him now. 

“Mhm, yes, what if we slipped it in?” your hand moved down his body and to the waistband of his pants. Without even stretching the fabric, you looked up at him with sweet eyes. “Would it feel good too? Maybe just the tip?” 

Fuck. 

Steve needed to calm himself down. He was already on the verge of cumming in his pants, watching you orgasm on his sheets. Even now, as the remnants of your arousal covered his fingers, he wondered how it would feel against his hardness. But, Steve couldn’t do that to you now. Especially knowing the fact that it would be your first time. However, the lust that clouded your eyes as you pouted up at him, was convincing him slowly. 

The conflict on Steve’s face was so apparent that you whispered: “oh, we don’t need to—”

“Fuck, I want to,” Steve kissed you sweetly. “Are you sure, baby? Sure that you can take it all?”

“Yes, yes, I promise you that I can,” you smiled up at him and then bit your lips out of a mixture of excitement and nervousness. 

You kissed one another again, not being to stand the time your lips were apart from each other’s. As you did so, Steve brought his hands under your sweater to nearly rip it off of you — leaving you beautifully naked on his plaid sheets. His hands were calling to him, telling him that one day he needed to take a picture of you like this. But, there is going to be another time, surely. Right now, he wanted to satiate your body’s cravings. As you stared up at him and squeezed your thighs together, Steve was truly about to combust. 

“It’s kinda cold,” you giggled as you stared down at your hardened nipples. Then, you sat up slightly to meet his lips again, but not without whispering close to his mouth. “Can I take off your clothes too?” 

With those words, Steve helped you take off his tight shirt and sweatpants. You’ve been teasingly touching it throughout tonight’s escapades; however, seeing his hardness in all its glory, stunned you. It was a lot thicker and longer than you initially believed. In truth, there were countless moments where you had gotten a glimpse of his size. Like the times he invited you to his backyard to swim, and he always seemed to choose tighter swim shorts every week. Or the one time he forgot to bring a towel into the shower so you brought one to him, thinking that he was going to keep the shower curtain atop his body for some modesty; however, when you were on your way out the room, he let go of the plastic curtain a bit too early and you saw a definite outline from the side of your eyes. Every single time, no matter how crazy the situation may be, you felt warm all over your body. This time, however, seeing the way it hung and the precum leaking out of it, you were hypnotized to say the least. 

“One sec, dove,” Steve whispered as he saw that you were about to touch it. You looked to see that he bent his body to reach his nightstand and take out a little clear bottle. 

“What is that?” You asked innocently as you began to stroke him while he wasn’t looking. 

“I-it’s — fuck — it’s lube. We could use a little if you wanted to,” Steve said seriously before bringing a hand to your arousal and massaging your clit sweetly. “Not sure if we will need much,” he teased. 

Steve kissed you again, having you lay down on the bed fully. He thrusted his hardness against your pussy a few times, seeing how you reacted to the feeling. You adored it, mewling every time the head of his cock coincided with your clit. In truth, you both could have been doing this for the rest of the night until you two came; however, you were throbbing around nothing and you craved to feel more stretched out than with Steve’s fingers. 

You broke away from the kiss, eyeing the bottle of lube curiously, before Steve grabbed it and put it in your hands to look at closer. There were times you saw a similar bottle in the drug store and noticed they were next to the condoms and pregnancy tests. You saw that there were big bold letters on the front: ‘for her pleasure,’ which confused you slightly. But, you decided to give it a try anyways — it must be something good, you guessed. 

“Let's use a little, Steve.” 

“Yeah, sure. You want me to put it on?” He asked sweetly as he outstretched his hand. 

“N-no, I wanna try something,” you smiled up at him before putting a dollop of the gel in your right hand. “You’re so big, Stevie. You’re gonna stretch me out so good.” 

Your words were hypnotizing the man above you as you circled your hand over his cock and stroked a few times. And to think that he believed that he was to be taking the lead tonight. 

“F-fuck, dove. Your hands are so soft.” Steve’s moans were making you wetter by the second. You felt your heat throb harshly around nothing, before you moved your hips upwards a little and guided his cock into you. 

Just the tip — you said the words before. 

But, fuck, it felt so nice that you both needed so much more. Steve stayed still above you as he watched the way you move your hips to bounce on his cock from below. Inch by inch, you thrusted yourself upon his lube-covered hardness, causing moans to echo through the room as you got stretched out. 

This was so much better than you both could have ever dreamed of. 

“So hard,” you whispered as you got in the last inch and took all of Steve’s cock in. 

“You’re taking me so well, dove. So fucking wet,” he said as he kissed you and let you get used to the large size. 

“Feels nice.”  

“Tell me if you don’t like it,” Steve whispered as he kissed your lips one last time before moving his mouth down your neck and finally thrusting his hips into you. 

Everything seemed to amplify ten-fold. All of the pleasure, moans, tingling, stretching — it all felt so nice. It was if you two were the only people in the world, with the sky changing from a navy blue to a bright orange. Sweet nothings were whispered into the air as you both wanted to give each other the poetic justice you deserved. 

Steve kissed you every time he heard your moans get louder and louder, wanting to taste your ecstasy. He moved back and forth from kissing your lips, to your neck, to your breasts. It all made you grip his hair tightly no matter where he was focusing on your body. 

“Keep going please, Steve. Everything feels so full,” you screamed incoherently.  

“God, you're throbbing around me. I don’t think I can take it.” The man above you was thrusting into you at an increasingly faster pace, missing the feeling of your warm pussy every time he was even an inch out of you. 

“Steve, I wanna feel you cum,” you whispered before grabbing his hair to have him stop sucking on your nipples in order to look at you. 

He adored how needy you were. “Dirty little mouth, Princess.” 

“Need more — need you to go faster.”

“You know I've been dreaming about this moment time and time again. Who knew all it would take is a dirty novel, isn’t that right?” Steve teased as he reached town and pinched your clit playfully. 

“You’ll never regret driving me to the bookstore from now on,” you giggled in between whimpers.

In truth, you didn’t notice the way you were moving yourself upwards to meet his thrusts. It made Steve bite his lip to stop himself from cumming inside of you prematurely.  “Dove, you're taking me so well — fuck — better than I’ve ever imagined,” he moaned. 

“What have you imagined? What were we doing?” you asked it so innocently, stroking his chest as he continued to thrust into you. 

Where did you learn how to do that? — was what he really wanted to ask. Instead, his mind started to blurt out his fantasies. 

“Sometimes I’d have you like this: fucked out and cock drunk in the middle of the night. Other times it would be me bending you over while you’re studying. Always wearing those tiny skirts with the slit.” 

“For you, I wear it for you. I know the yellow skirt is your favourite, isn’t it?” You teased him now. 

You always noticed the way he would ask you pick things up from the floor, mention that your shoes were untied while he was standing behind you, or the way he would always take off a piece of lint from the back of your skirt — even if you had just used a lint roller on it a few moments before. He loved the way the fabric would sway, and you loved the way he looked at you. It made you feel so warm even on the windiest and coldest of days. 

One thing was for certain, it definitely felt like such a tease in comparison to how your heart and body felt right now.  

“You little minx,” Steve moaned as he thrusted into you faster. 

“Do you think I don’t imagine you ripping my skirt into a million pieces every time you stare at me?” the words fell from your lips breathily while Steve’s pace increased more and more. “You’re not so good at recognizing mirrors in front of you when you’re staring at the back of my tiny skirt, huh?”

“God, you like it when I’m being your perv, naughty girl,” Steve stated.

“Makes me feel nice. Just like this.” 

Just then, Steve made sure that his thrusts and massages on your clit were working in tandem with the way your pussy was throbbing on his cock. He could tell with the way you were arching your back more and closing your eyes, that you were bound to orgasm soon. “You’re so beautiful, dove. So beautiful and taking me so well.”  

“Oh my—” your voice sounded so sweet as you looked up at him with desperation in your eyes. 

“That’s it, let it happen,” Steve grunted, making sure to stop himself from cumming so that he could time it with yours.  

“Faster, please,” you nearly screamed now as everything was hitting you in all the perfect spots. 

Steve took that as his sign to move faster: from his hands to his hips. He loved to see the way you were reaching your climax on his cock — an image he would never get out of his mind for the rest of his life. You were squeezing his hardness tighter and tighter, with your moans getting louder in tandem. And so, Steve angled his cock upwards to try and hit your sweetest spot inside of you. 

And he did. 

Good god, he did. 

“That’s it, that’s my dove.” He chanted over and over as you were shaking beneath him, orgasming harder than you did previously. 

“S-Steve, fuck.” You rarely swear, but to know that he was the one to cause this little word to fall from lips with such grace — it was the final straw for Steve. 

He began to cum inside of you, your pussy milking him with each thrust. All of his arousal was filling you up to the point where it started to spill out and glisten all over your thighs. “So tight,” he whimpered above you. 

For a few moments, you both came down from your highs. With a few thrusts and kisses, you allowed your bodies and heart rates to calm down as one. It was beautiful and so bewitching to experience it all. You weren’t so sure what it would be like now. Being friends for so long meant that you both knew so much about each other. However, now, you two seemed to see a lot of each other too. There was no turning back to what it was before. Not after everything felt so good in this way. 

You both looked into each other’s eyes before kissing sweetly, enveloping each other in one last kiss before breaking apart under the morning sun’s rays. 

“You are so beautiful,” Steve whispered as he moved to lay next to you. 

“So are you,” you smiled while cuddling close to him. 

“Are you alright?” He asked sweetly, kissing your forehead in the process. 

“Yeah, I guess I feel a little sore,” you giggled as you moved your head upwards to feel your lips on his again. 

Steve gasped into the kiss, breaking it apart to get some tissues from his nightstand. “Do you need a bath, some water, or food?” He asked whilst wiping the remnants of his climax away on your thighs. 

“I’m fine, Steve, I promise.” You smiled as he looked at you with the biggest hazel gaze. 

Truthfully, you looked like a goddess glowing next to him with the dawn reflecting on your skin. He wasn’t sure if there were enough words in any dictionary to describe your beauty. Maybe not even from the book you were reading before bed. “How about you sleep for a bit and then when you wake up, I’ll have all your favourite breakfast foods on the kitchen table?” The offer was so tempting coming from Steve’s lips. 

“Hmm, what if I want to help you?” You giggled. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be separate from him for too long. The place in between your thighs was begging for his touch again. “There is a scene in that book where the prince and the lady were eating breakfast and then—”

You stopped speaking when you saw Steve reach behind him to find the novel on his nightstand, before flipping pages in the book to see what you were talking about. “Maybe you should read this story to me another day and I can help you every time you get really excited during a scene,” he winked. 

“Another day?” 

“Yes, for now, we could get started on writing the beginning of our newest story, dove. If you would like to, of course.” Steve whispered the words as he hovered his lips above yours, teasing you with each breath that tickled your skin. 

“I’d really, really love that,” you smiled up at him, bringing your arms around his neck in the process. 

If one thing was for certain after tonight: both of you found comfort and love in each other’s arms — and later on in a few different sections of the book store too. 

-:-:-:-:-

#my writing #writing #st fanfic #st fanfiction #fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #LazyGhoulsKinktober2023 #friends to lover #fluff #fluff and smut #best friend!steve #innocent!reader #perv!steve harrington #perv!steve harrington x innocent!reader #steve harrington x f!reader #afab reader #slight somnophilia #just the tip #st #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #my fic #writing prompt #steve harrington #set before season 4

[harstyle]

pretty

Summary: Your good friend Harry Styles might just be the hottest, most gentleman-liest guy you‘ve ever laid eyes on, so it really is a shame that you‘re not his type. featuring lotsss of pining, insecurities on both sides and a hefty crying sesh (it‘s all a bit pathetic and cheesy really😭)

Pairing: uni-student!y/n + uni-student!harry

Word Count: 6.2k

—

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?”

He was impossibly close, nose mere inches away from hers, and held this expression that could easily make her cry if only she looked at it long enough. Y/N couldn’t handle the pressure of the moment, his intense eyes on hers. It was something out of a romance movie.

And she was left so speechless that all she could say to him was: “uh, t-thanks. Thanks. You too.” It wasn‘t like she disagreed with him, but the sheer intensity, the closeness with which he delivered his compliment made her weak at the knees.

He smiled at her like he’d known she would cower away and brushed some stray hairs away from her eyes. “James doesn’t deserve you. You know that, right?”

In full transparency, Y/N had forgotten all about James. She’d forgotten the reason for her tears the moment Harry had shown up at her flat to give her that long hug she’d been needing.

The only reason James had stumbled into her life at all was Harry anyway. Call it a distraction, a means to numb the jealousy she felt whenever she saw Harry out with another girl.

“I get it, though. I should’ve known he’d be that way, people warned me before going out with him. That he only takes out cheerleaders. Should’ve known he did it for a laugh.”

Harry was similar to James in that regard— he had a type and everyone knew it. Y/N didn’t fall under his category of ‘girls to date’. She often wondered why she always went for guys who would never even look in her direction— a bit of self hatred, maybe. A will to punish herself.

“Hey, stop that. You’re beautiful. Don’t find excuses for his behavior.”

“I’m not, I just… I should’ve seen it coming, is all.”

“No, what we’re not going to do is blame ourselves for other people’s mistakes. James fucked up. He did. And that’s it. You move on, you come back stronger and show him he didn’t leave even a tiny scratch.”

“You’re right. Of course.”

He smiled, “do you feel better?”

“A bit,” Y/N nodded with a sturdy exhale, “thanks for being there for me always. I really appreciate it.”

“What are best friend for, ey?”

It never felt less unnerving to hear those words coming out of his mouth. And really, she knew that realistically they were nothing more, but sometimes, especially late at night when no one was around and all of her uni stress had been shoved into a closet for the day, Y/N let herself believe it was real. That he liked her back. She needed to get a grip and open her eyes to the cold harsh truth; that a friend was all she would ever be in his eyes.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and averted her eyes towards her interlinked fingers. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

Y/N had long mastered the art of feigning a smile, so it came easily for her to flash her teeth at Harry in this moment.

“Course. Let’s make some dinner, I’m hungry.”

—

“Hey, it’s Y/N right?”

Y/N had seen this girl around before. She remembered because every time she would pass by on campus, Y/N had to admire her beauty; how her makeup always seemed effortless and her clothes complimented her perfect figure in just the right way, how her hair was always in a wave that Y/N could never perfectly recreate and her walk never droopy or tired, perfected by an angelic touch.

Y/N didn’t know this girl, but she’d always wanted to be like her.

“Yeah, hi.” Despite the inherent intimidation, Y/N smiled at her, “can I help you?”

Y/N felt ugly standing in front of her. She’d had to rush out of bed this morning for her analysis class, forgotten mascara and her staple lip balm. She looked monstrously unwell.

“My name’s Iris, I was wondering… god, this is a bit embarrassing, but you’re good friends with Harry, right?”

Y/N saw where this was going off of the jump. It happened way too often for her not to.

And her heart broke just a little more then, because so far, it’d been random girls she knew stood no chance with Harry. But Iris was just perfectly crafted for him, cookie cutter pretty and impressively confident. She had everything Y/N was still hastily working on.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I was wondering if you could give him my number? I saw him at the party last night and we chatted for a bit, but I forgot to write it down for him.”

Y/N had been at that party too, she just didn’t see that. Harry had barely even left her side. Must’ve been when she‘d gone to the bathroom.

“Oh, sure.”

“Great! Thank you so much.”

Iris handed her a little post it with her digits written along with a lovely note about having had a fun time.

Y/N walked to her 8am analysis class with a crucial feeling of hatred for the world and everything in it bubbling in her chest.

—

“Hi, babe.” Harry pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek like it was normal before finding his reserved seat next to her, surprising both her and their friends. If Kacy was all too shocked, though, she didn‘t show it, simply widening her grin in response to Harry‘s presence. “Hi, guys.”

“You finally showed up!” Kacy exclaimed, drawing the attention on him with her loud voice. Harry was so busy that he could be hard to track down, which made him an easy target for the occasional jab. In all fairness, he’d seen Y/N almost every day, just not his other friends— and in full honesty, that was enough for him.

“Yeah, sorry, finals week.”

“Y/N found the time,” Sebastian chimed in, tone laced with a tinge of earnestness, although Y/N and Harry could tell he was only teasing.

Harry retorted fairly quickly, “cause she has no other social life.”

At Harry’s words Y/N turned her head at him, mouth dropping open in genuine offense. She couldn’t do anything other than laugh, but really she should’ve hit him for saying that. “So you’re a whore and a backstabber!”

Harry cackled, that beautiful laugh escaping his mouth and blessing her ears, pulling her into his side and hugging around her frame. “I’m only joking!”

“Whatever. I’m not speaking to you the rest of the night.”

“Sure. You try that and we’ll see how that works out for you, babe.”

Everyone but them saw what their future could look like if they both stopped being stubborn and admitted their feelings for one another. Even sitting here, Kacy could see the way Y/N’s lips molded into a smile at Harry’s touch and the way he beamed whenever she played into his antics. Their bond was effortless in the way many couples wished theirs to be— it looked so easy for them to mesh together. Their friends knew they could be happy together and it frustrated them to see no progress being done.

By the end of the night, Y/N and Harry were blubbering drunk messes leaving the bar together. Y/N had taken it upon herself to call the uber back to his for the night.

“God, that was sooo fun,” Harry slurred out, “shame they’re closing soon.”

“You should come more often, we do this every week!”

Both Y/N and Harry were all smiles, looking at each other with excitement radiating from their bodies. It’d been long since they really let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here with me, you know that?”

Her heart rate plummeted.

Sometimes Harry said things drunk that wouldn’t pass as ‘normal’ when sober. He was close, grinning at her like a puppy in love and spoke with such confidence that Y/N was sure he couldn’t have not meant it.

“I’m happy you’re here, too, H.”

“No, like seriously though. You’re the best person I know.”

Heat rushed to Y/N’s cheeks. He was really testing her waters here.

“Oi, shut it. What do you want from me? Why’re you buttering me up?”

Harry shrugged, “nothin’. You really are. Just accept the compliment.”

“Fine,” Y/N smiled in a bashful manner, “thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Y/N stared at her boots, grinning to herself. Comfortable silence went on for a few short minutes, just the sound of the wind wafting by and quiet, calm breathing. Occasionally a car they looked up to to check it wasn’t their ride.

It was such a nice atmosphere.

Y/N was sure nothing could ruin this night for her. She was so happy, so careless in the way uni had long prohibited her from being. She wanted to exist in her little snug bubble forever, a place to hide from the real world with the person she admired most. She‘d sacrifice anything if she could keep this feeling for a bit longer.

And then, as if god disagreed with Y/N‘s pursuit of happiness, a needle set out to burst her bubble.

That needle was Harry, and outside of the bubble, it was cold.

“Can I kiss you?”

The ground beneath her shattered at his words.

Was he… serious?

Because this was her dream. If he‘d been serious, then her dreams came true in exactly the worst way.

Y/N had wanted a kiss from Harry since they became friends all those years ago, but not like this. Not drunk. Not on some stupid impulse. Not when they would wake up and realize it had been a mistake in a few hours. If she’d been willing to risk their relationship because of one shortlived kiss, she would’ve done it a long time ago.

He couldn’t do this to her! He couldn’t do this because to her, this wasn’t just fun. It wasn’t a cute little memory to look back on. Oh remember when we got drunk and kissed? Wasn’t that so funny? No, to her this was more. It was her whole livelihood, the cruxes which her heart depended on.

So although it hurt more than anything she’d ever had to do, Y/N shook her head. Her head barely moved, like her brain was plotting against it as well as her heart, but it did shake just enough to give him an inkling.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He was quiet for a few seconds (although she could feel his eyes burning a hole into her) before eventually retorting with a weakened, “why not?”.

“You’re drunk.”

“Been wanting to for a long time, Y/N.”

“Harry,” she stressed, voice quivering. Her next words came out in a whisper, “shut up.”

This time, he surrendered.

They waited for their uber in complete silence and when it came for them to sleep, Harry chose to stay on the couch instead of sharing the bed with her. Although Y/N was excruciatingly tired, she couldn’t for the life of her close her eyes.

She’d fucked up so badly.

—

Y/N felt slightly out of place as she slid into Harry’s kitchen in the morning. She looked at him already sat at the breakfast table with an array of pastries waiting for her.

“Hey.”

Harry nodded, “hi, help yourself. Went to the bakery on my run.”

“Thanks,” she murmured quietly, almost to herself. She was too scared to look at him.

“I don’t want it to be awkward between us, so I’ll just cut to the chase: I’m sorry about last night. I know I was drunk and weird and it won’t happen again. You were right.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up just slightly, the sheer surprise evident on her features. He was really bringing it up now!

“… right about…?”

“Bout it not being a good idea. I’ve never… I was really out of it, you know? Wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.”

Wow. Yes, obviously it would’ve been a mistake, Y/N knew that more than anyone. But his apology did more damage than good. It was like a knife was being pushed through her chest, agonizingly slow as to make it more painful. Harry had confirmed exactly how uninterested he was in trying anything more with her and it just about devastated her. And yes, in all fairness, it was unjust because she’d been the one to reject him last night but a tiny sliver of hope that he would reach out his arms and say ‘I still feel the same, I still want to kiss you!’ still possessed her delusional mind all night.

“Oh, that. Yeah.”

Harry tried to catch her eyes, “so are we cool?”

“We’re cool.”

Y/N was barely floating now. She didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to exist.

It hurt too much to exist sometimes.

“Y/N?”

She snapped out of it. “Hm? yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. You just reminded me of this girl I met yesterday, Iris,“ her shaking hand slid into her pocket to find the little note she‘d kept stored and handed it to him without making eye contact. Her body was on fire.

“Oh.”

“She wanted me to give you her number, said something about a party where you lot met.”

Y/N watched as realization dawned on him, probably a fleeting memory of Iris now soberly imprinted on his mind. She could imagine all the ways in which he thought about somebody like Iris, somebody who would be so perfect for him.

“Right. Thank you.”

“No problem. I should probably head out to mine and get a few uni things done before I get too lazy.”

Unprompted, Harry ignored her statement. She had a feeling he didn’t even want to hear her. “I didn’t want to text her. Completely forgot about her, actually.”

Y/N couldn’t find the answer as to why.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I didn’t… I don’t really like her like that.”

“Really? Iris was under the impression that… I mean, maybe she’s mistaken, but she told me about your little hangout sesh and it seemed nice, you know?” Harry’s eyes held something a little different— confusion, curiosity and a bit of sadness. It drove Y/N crazy deciphering him. “And Iris seems exactly like the type of girl you’d like.”

Then his eyebrows drew together, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N shrugged, body sinking and slowly becoming one with the chair, “just… pretty, is all.”

“A lot of girls are pretty, Y/N, doesn’t mean I automatically wanna date them when I talk to them once.”

“Yeah, but… Iris is your kind of pretty. She’s confident and I’m sure she’s funny.”

“My kind of pretty? What are you implying?”

“Nothing! Jesus, Harry, I just think Iris would be a good fit for you. She’s your type, is all.”

Harry scoffed like he took offense to Y/N’s reply, “and I’m sure you know exactly what my type is, huh? Cause I’m so surface level that I’m only into the same girl, yeah? What, blonde and tall?”

“Harry, that’s not—“

“Then what do you mean to say by that?”

“I just—“

“You’re boxing me together with that dickhead James!”

“No, Harry, I’m not— and if you would just listen to me, you’d understand that!” Y/N finally broke, raising her voice by a few notches so Harry would hear her over his loud accusations. “I’m not implying to you, by thinking you might be into her, that you’re surface level. I’m just saying, Iris seems like she would be your type because in the past, you’ve gone for girls like her. That isn’t bad, okay? I’m not criticizing, just pointing out. You’re into pretty girls.”

“Prettiness is subjective, Y/N, and what you’re doing right now is putting me in a box. What does that even mean, pretty girls? Clearly you’re implying I only date girls that are conventionally attractive because that’s my definition of pretty.”

“So what if it is? I didn’t say it’s anything bad,” Y/N leaned back in the chair, volume lowering as if she couldn’t argue with that statement. “Everybody’s allowed a type.”

“It’s just… you’re using the word type in a derogatory way.”

“How the fuck am I using the word type in a derogatory way?”

“Sounds like you’re saying I’m some dickhead who only goes off of looks. Only goes for tall blonde girls cause they’re tall blonde girls and not because they’re nice people.”

“When did I say that?!” Y/N was bewildered by this. She hadn’t meant anything bad by it! “I have a type too, you know that! And that’s okay!”

“Oh yeah fucking tell me about your type, Y/N, go on.”

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that you were just crying about James only dating cheerleaders a week ago and now you’re here putting the same thing on me!” Y/N breathed out in distress, finding less ways of deescalating the situation. “Be honest, then, what do you really think of me?”

“What are you even… I love you, H, I’m your best friend, I would never dream of insulting you. I was just saying that you seem to have a type, which there is nothing with!”

“So then what does pretty mean?”

“Just… pretty, okay? Don’t read too much into it.”

“No, I want to hear it. Describe pretty to me.” The word pretty had been spoken out so many times in such vain, that its meaning had became trivial at best.

“I don’t know, H, Girls like Jess, Angelina, Diana, Elle… which, if you were to write out their characteristics; they’re all blonde, tall, skinny girls. I’m not saying that you go off of looks, but I do think you have preferences, and that’s fine. That’s healthy, even.”

Then he scoffed again, but significantly quieter this time around. “Right, you brought the fucking receipts to the table, didn’t you? Do you usually think so lowly of me everywhere you go?”

It hurt to have this distance between her and Harry. They’d always gotten along so well before, so why did this have to become what it had? It had all come out of nowhere and Y/N didn’t have the strength or the energy to lose the one thing she constantly depended on to be okay.

“I don’t… Harry, I don’t think lowly of you. I just thought that you might like Iris.”

“I’m sure you did then.”

“Harry,” she sighed, “please, I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“I didn’t, got it perfectly clear. So one question though, am I allowed to like brunettes? Or is that too daring?”

“Harry, stop. Why are you being such a dickhead?”

“I’m being a dickhead?”

“Yes, you are.”

“At least I have history with girls for you to come to that conclusion yourself, right? Maybe when you find the courage to actually talk to a guy I’ll be able to find out what your kind of pretty is.”

And it wasn’t meant to be a jab, surely, at least not a terribly painful one, but it hit Y/N stronger than she would have liked. Who was he, making fun of her dating life? This wasn’t the Harry who reassured her after every pathetic bad date, who convinced her that it would be okay if she didn’t find her man straight away as long as she was happy. She’d loved Harry for a year now and there was something so liberating in exploring unknown territory, in partaking in the so called ‘chase’ (maybe somewhat masochistic, liking the torment of the unknown) but that feeling came to a full stop now that it had become clear that Harry didn’t love her back. Before, it had been speculation— now, it was real. And although she’d expected pain, this was cold blooded torture.

Harry didn’t look regretful, but that was because he had no idea what his words actually meant for her. Sometimes she wondered how the people she loved most could hurt her so much as to kick her down to the floor and repeatedly stomp on her body.

Without a word, Y/N stiffened her shoulders in an attempt to seem stronger and stood up from the table with a low intake of breath.

“Y/N.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” she muttered quietly but defiantly as she slipped on her shoes and opened the door out.

She didn’t have anywhere to go, but she knew anywhere else would suffice better than here.

—

Y/N wasn’t even surprised when she saw Harry and Iris arriving at the party together with the biggest smiles on their faces. Kacy turned to her and widened her eyes, motioning to the couple by the door with a questioning stare. Y/N simply shrugged.

She’d been hurting by herself, cramped away in her flat with a bottle of wine and three boxes of tissues and hoping for a little break when Kacy had asked her out tonight— but here he was, ready to ruin her minute of relief.

“She gave him her number through me last week… guess he finally called her.” Y/N explained, lowering her voice. “We haven’t talked since that morning after the bar.”

Kacy’s eyes widened again, because the last time Y/N had spent so much time away from Harry had been Christmas— and even then, they’d called each other every day.

“Why?”

Y/N simply shook her head, unwilling to elaborate. All Kacy could do was pull her into a tight hug and ask her what she wanted to do next.

“I just…” Y/N’s breaths shook, “I’m so tired, Kace.”

And although Y/N had never brought up the topic of Harry, Kacy knew exactly what she was referring to and her heart broke for her friend.

“Let’s go to one of the bedrooms.”

Y/N gave a stuffy nod and followed as Kacy lead the way upstairs.

Once they’d sat down, Y/N began to open her mouth. Her arms hugged around her own frame and tears were building in her eyes.

“Talk to me, Y/N. What happened?”

“He… I don’t know, Kace, he just got so mad at me. I was giving him Iris’ number and he said that he didn’t like her. I told him he should probably call her because I think she’d be good for him— I think I said ‘she’s your type’ or something like that, which is a normal thing to say! And then he went ballistic on me.” Y/N sniffed her nose, “I was just trying to be nice. He started accusing me of finding him surface level even though I implied no such thing.“

“Oh, honey,” it was through Kacy’s pitiful expression that Y/N noticed the ugly tears cascading down her swollen cheeks. “I don’t wanna make you feel worse, babe, but that doesn’t sound like Harry. Maybe you worded something wrong? Or he just heard you wrong?”

“No, I tried multiple times to clear it up, but he kept the attitude.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, I said that he likes pretty girls and he said what do you mean pretty girls? and so I described what I thought his type was, which is tall blondes, you know? And I even said that having preferences is healthy and that I don’t mind but he thought I was boxing him in. But don’t you agree? Isn’t that his type?” Kacy took too long to answer, making Y/N grow insecure, “Come on, he only dates tall blondes!”

“That’s not even true, Y/N. What about Vanessa?”

She rolled her eyes, “fine, one tall redhead.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… I think he was offended because he thought you were calling him some kind of jerk who only goes off of looks.”

“But he’s… he’s great, Kace, really, and I love him, but he does always date attractive supermodel type girls. I mean, good for him, but you know? And I don’t at all think I’m ugly, I think I’m pretty, but not his kind of pretty.”

“Okay, but… okay, what were you talking about before the whole Iris thing?”

“It’s a long story,” Y/N groaned, head falling into her hands, “when we were drunk he asked me if he could kiss me. I said no.”

“What?! Why would you say no?”

“Because we were drunk! And then the next morning he said I was right, that it would’ve been a mistake and we would’ve regretted it.”

Kacy’s mouth was kind of wide open, “and then you brought up Iris?”

“Yes, because I needed a change of topic.”

“But right after that he said he didn’t like Iris.”

“Yes.”

“And then you accused him of being surface level and he got mad?”

“Kacy, I literally didn’t! I—“ Y/N stopped defending herself because she knew she couldn’t cheat her way out of it. “Yes, maybe, okay? So what?”

“So he totally loves you.”

At that point Y/N started laughing— a genuine laugh made its way out of her mouth and she started shaking her head. Her laugh simmered down to a little chuckle and then she got tears in her eyes again. A rollercoaster of emotions.

“Right, sure. Hope you stretched before you took that reach! He said right before that he’d never have asked if he was sober.”

“He was saving face because you refused to kiss him.”

“Kacy, no,” she sighed, “don’t feed me that bullshit. You’re going to give me hope and I can’t take any more of that, okay?”

“He got mad you think he only likes blondes because he loves you and you don’t even see it,” Kacy elaborated even further, which bothered Y/N on so many levels. She’d told her to stop.

“I can’t, Kace,” Y/N cried, covering her eyes with her palms and letting the tears flow out, “I’m so fucking tired of feeling unwanted and like I’m not enough. Like whatever I do, there’s still some other girl who gets his attention. I can’t go on loving him and being his second girl every day. He goes on bad sex dates and comes home to me, goes to parties where he does body shots off of other girls, and then cuddles me in bed. I just can’t do it. One day he’ll get married and expect me to be his best man and that’s way more than I can take.”

“Look, I understand, but all you need to do is talk to him.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to lose him.”

“Isn’t it better to lose him now than to feel like this every day and lose him in a few years when you’ve physically broken yourself down over it? Isn’t it better to know? I know you won’t lose him because I see the way he looks at you and I see how he treats you. And he’d be stupid not to like you back. But if I‘m wrong, wouldn‘t it still be better to know?“

“No. I can do without knowing. If he knows and he doesn’t feel the same it’ll be weird and I can’t lose him. I can’t, Kace, he’s the only thing holding me together. Look at me, I’m such a fucking mess.”

“Y/N, eyes up,” Kacy ordered, taking ahold of Y/N’s forearm and forcing her to look at her, “you’re allowed little moments of weakness. Love does crazy things sometimes. You need to tell him or you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”

Y/N’s eyes stung hard.

The door opened in that moment, forcing the sound of the music into the otherwise quiet room with a force. Both girls looked up to find Harry by the door, his eyebrows drew together in concern at the sight of his teary eyed best friend. It didn’t matter what they were going through, their bond was strong enough for him to know something was seriously wrong.

“Are you okay?”

It was then that Kacy took her cue to leave, to Y/N’s dismay, and stood up from the chair to let Harry take her place. She closed the door behind her to give the two of them privacy.

“Y/N, you okay?”

“Yeah,” she tried to smile, though due to the tears it was clear as day that she was perpetually telling him lies whenever he asked her that question. “I’m okay.”

“Hey, come on,” he whispered into the quiet, inching closer to trap her chin between his fingers, “tell me what’s wrong. Did some asshole hurt you?”

“Yeah,” she nodded with a small sniffle. The asshole is you. “I’m just… having boy trouble. It’s okay. You should go back to the party.”

“Fuck the party. Who hurt you? I hope you mean your feelings, not physically…” He’d started raking over her body to check for bruises, a tick in his jaw.

“No! God, no, just my feelings. And I’ll get over it.” I couldn’t ever get over you. “Isn’t Iris waiting for you? I saw you arrive together.”

“Oh,” his features hardened for a split second. Y/N blinked and it was gone. “No, we ran into each other outside and talked for a bit. She asked me out, so… I think I’m going to go.”

It was like he was testing her, staring into her eyes to capture the exact moment she crumbled. But she didn’t. She held her head high and gave a subtle nod. “Sounds good.”

He sighed. It was quiet and could almost be classified as a simple exhale, but she knew it wasn’t.

“So who’s the guy?”

Sometimes he could be so oblivious that Y/N wondered how he’d made it so far in life. Surely he was only playing the part, right?

“Doesn’t matter,” Y/N shrugged. She was starting to cry again. “He’s insignificant.” You could never be insignificant to me.

“Should I talk to him?”

Yeah, that would be good. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll just… get over him.”

“Well I don’t like seeing you hurt, baby,” he tilted his head, cupping over her jaw and brushing over her skin delicately. The room was dimly lit to make it all the more romantic, but Y/N couldn’t fully be immersed in it. “No guy is worth your tears. You’re beautiful and brave and so so funny. I’m so lucky to have you in my life, Y/N. You’re the most perfect girl there ever was and if he can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t speak of her the way she always wished he would speak of her, but not mean it. It showed her what he was capable of— loving her, paying her attention the right way. She was left shattered.

“See, you say that, but you…” Y/N broke down in tears, “but nobody ever means it.”

He tilted her head up so he could stare deeply into her eyes and utter his next words in full honesty, “I mean it. I promise you, Y/N, I mean what I said with everything I have in my body. I mean it every time I say it when I’m drunk and I mean it when I’m sober. I mean it when you’ve just woken up and I mean it when we’re studying together at night. I mean it and I will always mean it.”

Instead of making her happy, his words made her cry even more.

“Harry,” she cried, bending her neck forward so the top of her head rested on his chin, “it hurts so much.”

“Come on, baby, it’s not worth it.” Then he started kissing the crown of her head, moving down to her temple and rubbing circles into her shoulders. “It’s not worth it.”

But he was worth it. He clouded her vision and made her feel lightheaded. He had the power to make her cry and the power to make her so unbelievably happy that she couldn’t imagine having ever been unhappy. He made her wonder how she could’ve lived such a mediocre, painful life before he entered it— that was the kind of power he possessed.

Y/N didn’t have to think twice about kissing him, she just did. She looked up at Harry and inched closer to rest her lips on his, and it caused emotions in her body she didn’t even know were possible. Harry seemed surprised but he caught on fairly quickly, letting her take the lead in the kiss until it’d been a few seconds and he felt her deepening it.

He pulled away, eyes finally opening.

She was startled. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

He shook his head gently, letting a reassuring smile sit on his lips, “no, but I’m worried about you. I don’t think it’s a good idea to do this when you’re crying over another guy, you know? I don’t want to be your numbing medication.”

“You’re… not,” her eyebrows drew together.

“You didn’t want to kiss me last week. It’s seeming like an ‘I miss another guy so I’ll hook up with you to numb the pain’ situation and I just… I don’t want either of us to regret it.”

He was trying to be nice— and he was, really was, but the sinking feeling in Y/N’s stomach worsened.

“That’s because we were drunk last week.”

“You’re hurting over another person, Y/N.”

“He’s not important, I just want to kiss you. I want to have sex with you. Okay? Because I want to, not because I’m into some other dickhead.”

Harry seemed to have trouble believing her, “I can’t.”

“Okay, whatever. It’s fine.” Y/N stood up from her chair, creating some distance between her and Harry and started walking away from him. He held onto her hand though, preventing her from moving too far.

“Y/N, come on.”

“No, genuinely, I don’t want to coerce you into having sex with me, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She was being honest. She didn’t want Harry to feel like she was using him under false pretenses.

But having him think that was still better than confessing.

“I didn’t think you were coercing me into doing anything, Y/N, I just don’t want you to regret it.”

“Yeah,” tears built in her eyes again and she bit her lip to hold them in, “you’re a really good guy, Harry.”

When he stood up to offer her comfort, she immediately took a step back and held her hand in front of her in an effort to force him away. “Please don’t.”

“Y/N…” He looked pained and thoroughly confused at her cold behavior. Harry knew she tended to close off whenever she felt bad about herself, but that had applied mostly to other people. Harry, on the other hand, had always been successful in finding a way to pull back her in.

“No, I’m embarrassed. Jesus, I’m such a mess! I was talking about this with Kacy, I‘m just… I‘m all over the place.”

“You’re not a mess. You’re hurting, that’s normal.”

“I just asked you to fuck me, that’s… who the fuck does that? Since when am I like this?”

“Since you’ve been hurt,” he countered, “love makes you do weird things. God knows I get a bit crazy too when I’m in love.”

“No you don’t,” she said to him, voice hoarse and uncomfortable, “you’re fucking Mr. Perfect. Everyone loves you and you’re hot and you’ve got the brilliant mind. You can’t do anything wrong.”

“Everyone doesn’t love me,” he replied with a leveled tone, “if everyone loved me, I’d be with the girl of my dreams right now. But I’m not, so… not everyone.”

“Can’t fucking imagine that,” Y/N muttered, wiping under her eyes. “You probably just communicate badly and she doesn’t know you love her.”

“Same with you.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest.

“He’s way out of my league.”

“Who is this guy anyway? You’re gonna hype him up to me and not even let me know who it is?”

“He’s, uh…” Y/N walked further away from him and sat down at the edge of the bed, covering her face with her hands, “he’s from uni. Tall, dark brown hair, green eyes, sometimes glasses. He’s really nice but dates girls who are the complete opposite of me—you know, really model type girls. And I just… whenever I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of just how unattractive I am compared to them— and don’t get me wrong, I’m fine with me but they’re just better. I can’t keep up with it. And god, I feel so pathetic talking about myself like this but he’s just… he‘s so perfect and I love him and I don’t want to lose him. He makes me doubt myself sometimes, you know?“

At the latest he must’ve known now. Y/N could hear his brain professing that information, double and triple checking all possibilities until it dawned on him that she was talking about him.

He cleared his throat, stepping closer. “So he’s… where do you know him from again?”

A short pause before committing to the method, “we met at the fresher’s party three years ago.”

“And you see each other a lot, I assume.”

Y/N was still not looking at him, head buried in her hands.

“We… yeah. We hang out every day. He’s mad at me right now though.”

“So you… you love me.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. She’d given up, left it all to fate; if he would turn her away and never talk to her again or ask to continue being friends. It all became obsolete.

“I’m sorry,” she muffled into the palms of her hands.

“D’you wanna hear about the girl I’m in love with? Have been in love with for a year now?” Y/N wanted to shake her head, but she didn’t, so he continued. “She’s from uni too, spends about three nights a week at my flat even though hers is bigger. She can be really distant, but when she gives you attention it’s like the whole world healed. She’s so sweet and considerate and brings me little gifts sometimes and even though she’s damn near perfect, she gets really insecure about things, especially when it comes to her looks and stupid dicks.” Y/N had started looking up at his words, spotting Harry closer to her but not sharing any of her own emotions. He was taking the piss, wasn‘t he? “Locks herself away in her room until she feels ready to leave the flat. She’s selfless, gives me other girls’ numbers even though she’s in love with me— even makes me go on dates even though I’m sure it hurts her feelings whenever I do.”

“You love me?” she sniffled, “I’m not joking about this.”

“I love you, Y/N. I do. S’why I got so mad last week, wanted you to realize that I’m more than some shallow asshole. Didn’t know you felt the same, though.”

“How could you not? I literally get so weird around you these days.”

“Thought it was just stress or something,” he cupped her cheek, thumbing away some tears, “I’m sorry you cried about me, should’ve just said it like a normal person. Just didn’t want to ruin us.”

“Me neither.”

“I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

This kiss was a thousand times better than the last one. Y/N felt giddy as his lips ghosted over hers, as he pulled her up from her seat and sat back down to have her climb over his lap. She breathed into his mouth, ground against his crotch like she was a horny 16 year old girl being touched for the first time. There was no heavy feeling weighing down on her chest, she could just be free of concerns.

After a few minutes of making out, Y/N laughed. She damn near cackled into his mouth and when he questioned her with a confused stare and a cute laugh of his own, she shook her head.

“Remind me to thank Kacy later.”

—

disclaimer: this is NOT meant to offend anyone based on their looks— it‘s just a depiction of a girl feeling insecure because she thinks the guy she loves doesn’t see her the way she wants him to. The description i used of his ‘type’ and the inevitable perception of what Y/N looks like in this story was completely random and is completely up to you. I hope it doesn’t come across as anything other than that!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles

[in-your-walls]

Love when You want to do so many things You end up doing nothing instead

#i want to write the analysis on the hypothetical case we covered in class I want to finish return of the soldier I want to draw i want to ea #t / finish the last pizza slice I want to get clothes to shower tomorrow because I’m sticky I want to ask if anyone watered the garden I wan #t ro check in with friends #i hace decided i will instead sit on this bed with bad posture on tumblr dot com #ramblings

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Bed Friend Episode 8 Thoughts

I don't have like anything cerebral to say that I could write a full analysis on (yet) but BOY OH BOY DO I HAVE SO MANY FUCKING THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ABOUT THIS EPISODE so here comes a ramble:

First thought, I am so angry on Uea's behalf. LIKE YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT UEA HAD THIS LOVING, PRECIOUS AUNT WHO LITERALLY BURSTS INTO TEARS WHEN SHE SEES HIM AND CANNOT STOP HUGGING HIM, AND SO CLEARLY LOVES AND CARES FOR HIM AND HIS MOTHER RIPPED HIM AWAY FROM A CHANCE OF GROWING UP FEELING LOVED BY SOMEONE IN HIS FAMILY???????

Honestly, a travesty that we didn't have more time of them interacting, as much as it would have been bittersweet to see just how much he lost by moving out of Lampang, I want a little bit more security that he will have family who loves him unconditionally. I wanted a little bit more time of him getting to bask in familial love.

BUT THAT'S OKAY BECAUSE I REALIZED SOMETHING, PINK IS HOME IN THIS SHOW! At least for Uea. He's surrounded by it when he's asking his aunt if he can stay for awhile...

It's the color his sister wears at his "birthday party"

Which like, is that whole event a tragedy for Uea? Yes. But is this the first time we get to see Uea and his sister interact with each other as adults? Also yes, so they have to establish how Uea sees her.

It's the color that Uea wears when he is talking with King in the pool

(and honestly, talking specifically about Lampang, but because I am gay and read in to everything, we're going to say it's also how Uea feels about King and vice versa)

So Jade tells King about Krit and Uea's resignation, and it cuts to King practicing dangerous driving habits, BUT ALSO LITERALLY CRYING?

It's kinda hard to see, but I swear I see a bright line of shiny tear running along the bride of his nose. King may be the world's Goodest Boy, but he definitely fucked up and he knows it and I, personally, am glad that he is thinking back to his fight with Uea and seems to be feeling bad about it.

And now for what @respectthepetty has been waiting for

BLUE BOY APPEARS

And this shot is going to be my argument that King is fundamentally a blue boy because there is an establishing shot of just the blue jacket as he walks up to the inn, his face isn't present in this scene until Uea turns around to see him, so we only follow this light blue jacket.

OK LISTEN, I literally have been going back through every episode to take pictures of all of the reflections in each episode so I can compile a like master post of them because the reflections in Bed Friend tells a lot of the story/does a lot of work to show the character's true feelings. But I saw this image and said "fuck it! I can't save this for later, I have to talk about it now" the way UEA HAS KING'S BACK AND KING HAS UEA'S BACK! The way their only thoughts are of each other, the way there is no way for them to break eye contact. If Uea faces the other direction, he will still face King's reflection. I JUST!!!! a million forehead kisses a couple massive hugs to whoever on the production crew was like 'hey! you know what could be kinda fun...?"

And then we get this shot? Another beautiful reflection, standing together but in two states of mind. King aware of his feelings for Uea and Uea's feelings for him, but Uea unaware that King reciprocates, still knowing there is something that needs to be fixed between them.

King comes here to tell Uea that he wants him to understand, and before King can make his confession Uea interrupts him to apologize for being rude to him and King does not accept an apology, because Uea has done nothing wrong, and not only does King not accept an apology from Uea, he tells him that he isn't mad at Uea and tells Uea that he himself was being jealous and possessive.

And honestly, do I think that King should have apologized here? Yes, but I'll accept this because he's able to name the emotions he was feeling that led to the behavior he exhibited. And then finally he confesses! "Uea, I like you!"

And honestly this show should have been called Tale of A Thousand Stars Reflecting Off Net's Eyes.

And I was SO HAPPY because FINALLY THEY CAN GET ON THE SAME PAGE, only to feel the gut punch of Uea's "Do my feelings matter?' immediately afterward because this has been the core conflict they haven't been able to voice. Uea's feelings have never mattered in almost all of the relationships he has with other people. His feelings never mattered to Pock, his feelings never mattered to Krit, his feelings never mattered to his step-dad, and his feelings certainly never mattered to his mother. Even with his sister, she's frequently used as a tool to get him to do things he doesn't want to do, and she's able to stand at Uea's side in a family argument, but she still allows her brother to compromise his feelings for her.

When Uea and King were in their uncomplicated phase of the FWB, Uea could start to believe that his feelings did matter. King listened when Uea told him to stop, King followed Uea's rules, King didn't use his bet to make Uea engage in pet play. And unfortunately, Uea only started to let his feelings matter to him when King asked him on a beach trip. He let himself be excited by that, and hopeful for that, only to have King cancel on him for a blind date.

King has made some dumbass fucking moves in the last couple episodes, but the smartest move he ever made was taking care of all the loose ends he was aware of before he went chasing after Uea. He resolves all of the conflicts that he knew about before trying to get Uea to come back to a hostile workplace where his relationship to King wouldn't feel secure if he had to still go on these arranged matches.

And King brings up the bet, and because I was kinda hoping earlier in the week for more of a blow out, or confrontation, I was really hoping that King would invoke the bet to make Uea stay and listen to him explain, but I love what they did with it here.

King asks Uea for a chance to make a move.

Not for Uea to be his boyfriend, not for Uea to forgive him, not for Uea to do anything but allow him to try to hit on Uea. Allow King a chance to date Uea.

And I honestly think Uea is surprised by this request as well. Because his feelings have so rarely mattered to the people around him, that I think it is still, even when King has been notoriously good about consent and embracing Uea's feelings, that it is a genuine shock that King isn't going for something massive with this bet. Just asking for a chance.

Oh poor "Are you sure?" Uea. Baby boy, I understand that it is hard to believe that someone would genuinely love and care for you, and I know that it is difficult to break through years of internalized homophobia that has been beaten in to you, But sure you haven't been completely blind to how much of a simp King is for you.

Side note: Kicking and screaming because King told Uea that he's never felt this way about anyone the way he feels with Uea.

This is getting long and my only thoughts on the rest of Lampang is "holy fucking shit they are so cute and finally they just get to be together aware of their mutual feelings, yeehaw!" so I'm cutting to when they return because....

KING FINALLY GETS TO TELL EVERYONE! And he's so fucking happy about it Jesus Christ, this dude. They are about to be disgustingly in love in the office the second that No Touching rule is revoked. And I love that we can tell Uea is getting more comfortable with all of this because, well one, he lets King say this, but two...

He's trying so hard not to be too obviously happy about this.

And yay! We get Uea's work family all together celebrating this queer relationship (because almost all of the people here are queer too) AND we get pink as a color in this scene because this is a loving home for Uea too.

fuck YES GET THAT BOY SOME THERAPY!!!!! I am so pleasantly surprised by the inclusion of therapy as important and necessary both in Bed Friend and in The Eighth Sense. Let's get my boy processing his trauma with a trained professional. I think it was @waitmyturtles who was hesitant this show because she wasn't sure if it was going to be a "Lover Waltzed Into My Life and Suddenly All My Trauma is Gone" type of story. I hope this is relieving to you that regardless of all of the postive changes King has actively made to Uea's life through getting Krit fired, and encouraging Uea to seek justice for his step-dad, that Uea is also being aided by Jade, therapy, and medication for his mental health.

King, careful, you're gonna be the next one getting a talking to by your boss for not getting your work done if you keep spending all of your time in the office hanging around Uea.

BUT ALSO!!! I mentioned in my Uea costume post for Episode 7 that King favors Uea's left side because he knows that Uea does not react well to people hanging around his right side.

So I just wanted to take a second to acknowledge the 1000/10 parallel here.

And speaking of comfortable, I do not think you understand how ecstatic I was to see Uea be like...genuinely comfortable and confident in himself. To just response to King's "Why are you sitting here?"question with "because I'm beautiful," FUCK YEAH YOU ARE, UEA. You bare beautiful and you do deserve to put yourself up on a pedestal so everyone around you can admire your beauty. #selflove

Side note: This is a great shot and King is so in love with Uea, and they make a truly believable couple so shout out to Net and James for the work they put in here. Especially when King spends the night at Uea's apartment and he's trying so hard to restrain himself and Uea is teasing him.

I know this is kind of a weird screenshot to put in here, but I don't have a gif of it, and I just really love how couple-y it feels for Uea to literally like spin himself over King to leave his bed to take his meds. It feels fun, and it feels comfortable. Uea is happy to crawl over his boyfriend to leave his bed. And shout out to Net for horny bastard rights on King's part cause King literally tracks Uea's every move from the second he dodges the kiss until he gets out of bed.

King fulfills his role as the doting and worried boyfriend, which is probably the sexiest thing anyone can do lets be real.

FINALLY IT'S TIME!!! The conversation that needed to be happening a long long time ago. And like, do not get me wrong, Uea is under no obligation to tell anyone any of this information, but without knowledge of Uea's history, King got himself in to a lot more hot water because he has no foundation of understanding for how and why Uea operates the way that he does. When I first saw this scene I think some of the English translation didn't go over the way it was supposed to and I really thought that King had fumbled the ball, but looking back through it the second time, I am interpreting his words a bit differently, and understanding what I think King was trying to get at. Mostly that if Uea is comfortable and trusts King enough to share this information about his step-dad with him there might be a solution to take care of whatever the problem is.

But honestly, I care more about the way King is hold Uea's hands here than I do about what the translation is saying, and above all I care more about

The honest conversation about mental health that is happening in this show. As much as I have really embraced and honestly find the like green tea ads in every BL to be endearing and like a staple of the genre at this point, I have a major appreciation and love for the shows that take the time to give the public health public service announcements. The Warp Effect, which I honestly can't remember having any actual product ads, for example spent most of their typically allotted in-universe ad space to talk about getting the HPV vaccine and the steps of a pelvic exam. KinnPorsche has a 20 minute video discussing queerness in Thailand and what is and is not appropriate to say. Bed Friend spent time in episode 2 showing the steps of getting an STI blood test done and now are talking about mental health and taking medications to treat it.

Listen, I'm a simple bitch, and simple bitches love when the pretenses fall away and the rules no longer apply because this is an extremely important and serious matter and King and Uea both know that he needs these comforting touches, and King doesn't have to ask permission to ground Uea with touch here.

And see! This is what I was talking about in my Uea and Red post, I love this color red on Uea. This feels like a real, legitimate, accurate red for Uea to be in, compared to the bright red that he is shown in near the beginning of the show. I never doubted that Uea was a red rascal, I just...feel like the bright red is a fake red, is a lie. Here, when he is being his most honest with King. When he is sharing information about himself that he had intended never to share with anyone, he isn't in the bright anxiety red, he is in this deeper red.

And listen, Respect The Petty, no one wants to agree with you more than me that King is a Blue Boy, but after this episode I am willing to concede that he is two-toned, specifically because of this outfit and this outfit only:

Black hoodie with a FUCKING RED ROSE OVER THE HEART like come ON! King wears so little red in this show so far. He wore red and black in Episode 4 for the beach trip, and since then has been sitting on a little red pillow on his chair in the office, but otherwise, this outfit?????? King carrying Uea with him in his heart everywhere????? AND THE YELLOW FLOWERS IN THE BACKGROUND??????????

And again, the English translation had me reeling for a second when King was like "For the thing you told me last night, I don't feel okay about it," before he was like "can I do something to your step-dad" and then I was very "casually threw aside a large rock" about it.

And I love that King does seek permission here to go through with consequences for #pransdaddarktimelineedition because something I did find very interesting in this episode was the possibility for a moral quandry about outing Uea as a victim in Krit's harassment to the entire office without Uea's knowledge or consent and how that could possibly have ended poorly for King's relationship to Uea. But, King is a man of action, and he will find solutions where he can, and will not sleep comfortably knowing that someone who has hurt Uea is existing without consequences and possibly capable of hurting other people. But Uea is here this time and this is Uea's history and Uea's trauma so he asks because Uea's feelings are the most important thing to King.

Uea back in blue and that blue matching the same blue-green tone of King’s shirt with the lettering on his sweater.

Ok that is mostly my thoughts on this episode, I might just turn right back around and watch it for a third time because fuck it, I have COVID, and I have laundry to fold. We ball.

Can't wait to tune in next week to watch Uea's Step-Dad get his comeuppance. Hope those charges stick. Don't love that we are seeing yet another person trying to get with Uea and threatening the relationship between Uea and King, but I really hope that is swept aside quickly and we get most of this episode and episode 10 of them just being disgustingly in love because I JUST! WANT! UEA! TO! BE! HAPPY! THAT'S ALL I'M FUCKING ASKING FOR!

If you read this whole thing you're my best friend now, sorry I don't make the rules, this is just so long for no reason. But I will not do multi-part posts unless I literally run out of image space. K, byeeeeeeeee

#bed friend #bed friend the series #ueaking #kinguea #king x uea #uea x king #netjames #jamesnet #net siraphop #james supamongkon #domundi #bed friend analysis #bed friend stray thoughts #bed friend episode 8 #bed friend ep 8 #it was write one beast or make like four separate post and i did not want to do that #i would apologize for constantly writing novels on this website but im not actually sorry so

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hallowed

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, face sitting, smut. Word count: ~1.3k

Summary: Her Early Medieval Literature essay is due, and Michael has his own cruel way of ensuring she stays focused.

Author's note: Can be read as part two of this fic, but also works as a standalone. Day six of the Smuffmas prompts - "future and face sitting". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She lounges on Michael’s bed, clad in only knickers and one of his t-shirts, a copy of the Canterbury Tales grasped lightly between her fingers. Her eyes move over the words of Chaucer, but take none of them in, how could they? His long fingers draw lazy circles on her ankle, her legs stretched out up to the pillows where he reclines, the duvet wrapped around his bare midriff while he reads from a textbook called the Book of Proof.

Life feels simpler since Michael has entered it, despite the turbulent beginnings. She has given up her friends, under his advice, and there is now far less pressure to conform. Her only focuses are her studies and pleasing him, the latter of the two she takes great pleasure in.

It is always on his terms; when they see each other, what they do, how they do it, and despite his obvious initial inexperience he is a fast learner. His ability to make her fall apart, to make her relinquish all control is something he does expertly. The slight fear she feels towards him only adds to the excitement; he could destroy her if he wanted to, but if she plays nicely then he won’t, and she is more than happy to play nicely when the rewards for doing so are as satisfying as they are.

She sighs, his fingers upon her flesh making her core throb with want, even from the simple gesture of absentmindedly touching her leg. She lets her book slip from her fingers, raising up on her elbow to look at him.

“Michael…” she whines.

He looks at her impassively, adjusting his glasses. “The first of your three essays is due soon, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” she responds with a roll of her eyes, flopping back down and stretching her arms above her head. “Early Medieval Literature.”

His hand moves from her ankle, fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of her underwear. “And what have you written?”

She shivers beneath his touch, squirming slightly. “Am I really here to study?”

“I’ve no interest in sleeping with a failing literature student,” he pulls his hand away and she immediately misses his warmth. “So tell me.”

She groans in frustration. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably something about irony in the Merchant’s Tale.”

His textbook thuds closed and she hears the heavy sound of him dropping it onto the bedside table. When she chances to glance up at him she sees he is sitting straighter in the bed, his gaze hardened as he looks at her. “Probably?! You mean you haven’t started it? Have you even thought about your thesis statement, your in-depth analysis or how you’re going to conclude your ideas, if you’ve even had any?”

“Oh, come on,” she says softly, sitting up and reaching for him. “There’s still time. Can’t we just–”

“No,” he cuts her off. “I’ve been spoiling you, and it’s made you stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” She protests. “If I remember correctly, it was you who called my degree a ‘glorified book club’.”

“You still need to try,” he tells her, frowning.

“You don’t try,” she argues with a shrug,” and marks in your first year don’t count towards the final degree.”

“I don’t have to try, but I still get firsts in everything. Marks this year may not count towards the final degree you get, but they count towards you keeping your scholarship. Think about your future instead of being a fucking brat for once in your life.”

His words are a sharp sting to her already fragile ego, and she lowers her gaze, fighting the sudden urge to cry.

“I’m not touching you again until your essay’s handed in and I’ve seen what your mark is.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief as she looks at him, searching his features for any indication that he’s being unserious. She finds none; he really means it.

“And you’re not to touch yourself. I’ll know.”

The next two weeks are torturous for her. On the occasions that Michael does invite her to his room, there is no more casual half dressed lounging on his bed. Instead, he has a study space set up for her at his desk, and won’t allow her to speak or leave until she has at least a thousand words written. 

They meet up in the library during free periods so that he can read through what she’s written, and her skin burns hot with humiliation each time he screws up a page and throws it into the waste paper bin, calling her arguments “lazy” and “uninspired”.

It lights a fire of determination beneath her, but bubbling under the surface is also a heightened state of arousal, driven by the lack of intimacy, and the fact that she finds that she likes it when he is so authoritative over her.

By the time she has finished, she has produced an essay that both her and Michael are satisfied with; it discusses the use of irony in Chaucer’s poem, the Merchant's Tale. She has used a number of excerpts and lines from the poem for analysis, revealing the instances of irony in each, and from this has determined that the irony Chaucer used in the Merchant's Tale is controlled.

Her eyes light up when Professor Ware hands it back, and she sees the 85% that’s circled at the top of it.

A first.

She feels giddy with excitement as she knocks on Michael’s door that evening, brandishing the now dog-eared pages at him as he opens the door.

“A first, I got a first!” She squeals, watching as he takes the essay from her, his eyes moving slowly over the top page.

“Hmmm,” he settles it down on the desk, removing his glasses and placing them on top. “Take off your jeans and underwear.”

“Wha–what?” She stammers, her grin fading.

“You want your reward, don’t you?” He asks, moving to lay back on the bed.

She swallows thickly, excitement fluttering in her lower belly, as she quickly complies, ridding herself of the clothing that covers her lower half.

“Come here,” he commands softly.

She joins him on the bed, a gasp leaving her as he manhandles her until her knees are positioned either side of his head.

“My clever girl,” he whispers. His words could be mistaken for softness, were they not directly juxtaposed by the rapid darkening of his blue eyes, and the way his thumbs drag across the indentations between her thighs and pelvis. “I knew you could do it, you just needed a little…push.”

He drags his tongue from her opening all the way to her pearl, and her jaw goes slack, the wet sensation making her clench as she falls forward, hands clawing at the wall in front of her.

His grip on her thighs tightens and he tugs her flush against his face, the sloppy sounds of him devouring her are lewd combined with the wanton cries of pleasure that tumble from her lips.

She feels her mind go blank as he inserts his tongue inside of her, keeping it rigid as she begins to grind herself in a circular motion, keeping his nose pressed against where she needs it most, desperately chasing the release she’s needed the last couple of weeks.

His hum of appreciation reverberates through her core, and as he withdraws from her, plush lips wrapping around her sensitive bundle of nerves she feels herself fall apart as the growing ache intensifies, completely at his mercy as he laps at her, while white hot waves of pleasure wash over her.

She raises up when it becomes too much, jerking at how oversensitive she feels and gazes down at him through heavy lidded eyes, breathless.

He looks like an utterly different person without his glasses, almost kind, though she knows better. His chin is shiny with her slick as he smirks up at her.

“You’ve worked so hard,” he says quietly, though the edge of malevolence to his voice is unmistakable. “But don’t worry, you can give that pretty little mind of yours a rest while I fuck you stupid again.”

She is powerless to resist as he tugs her back to his face once more, beginning the exquisite torture all over again.

#michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn michael gavey #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #saltburn fan fic

[hgfictionwriter]

Getaway - Part Two

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: It's the morning after. Will Jessie finally get her wish or is she just fooling herself?

A/N: Shy, awkward Jessie meets angsty, sulking Jessie. Fluff with a bit of angst. No other warnings. Final part of this series.

Despite her intentions, sleep evaded Jessie as her mind raced with reflections of the night. In time she admitted defeat and upon hearing rustling in the adjacent rooms, a sign that Niamh was getting up, Jessie head downstairs to start making breakfast. It was going to be a long day.

The girls were gathered around the kitchen table mid-breakfast and chatting idly when you eventually appeared. Even with how preoccupied Jessie had been with analysis of last night and attempts to figure out how to navigate things, she didn't feel prepared. Her pulse immediately quickened, and she averted her gaze the moment you two locked eyes. She relaxed her shoulders in an attempt to collect herself.

“Morning, sunshine," Niamh called. "How'd you sleep?"

"Morning, starshine," you returned with a teasing wink at your friend. "I slept great, thanks. How about all of you?" You responded as you sat down and began to load food onto your plate.

While conversation had ensued, Jessie had snuck over to the kitchen and returned to set down a cup of coffee in front of you with zero fanfare, still avoiding eye contact. Your gaze followed her as she scurried walked back over to her spot at the other end of the table.

"Oh my gosh, thank you, Jessie. I need coffee so bad right now," you said. She merely offered a tight smile as she returned her attention to her phone and the last sips of her coffee. She sunk into her chair a bit as she tried hard to ignore your eyes upon her.

"Where's my refill?" Niamh ribbed, drawing a glare from Jessie.

"Oh yeah. That'd be a slippery slope, soon I'd be doing everything," she said with a short laugh and hoped the topic would get dropped. "Besides, Y/N's our guest."

In a stark contrast to sleeping up against you a mere hours ago, Jessie now felt awkward and unsure. She resolutely avoided eye contact with you throughout all of breakfast, only now and then catching your watchful eye before immediately glancing away and busying herself otherwise.

When everyone cleaned up and headed upstairs to get ready, Jessie remained solely focused on not interacting and retreated to her room. She closed the door behind her and exhaled wearily. She had to figure out what to do because this just wasn't going to fly. She was about to start gathering items for the day when a knock came at the door. She swallowed nervously, feeling her pulse pick-up as she eyed the door.

"Come in," she said. She swallowed once more as you stepped inside, closing the door again behind you.

"Hey, I just-"

"Hey, I'm so sorry about last night." Jessie found herself talking over you, a rush of words spewing from her mouth as her nerves overwhelmed her. "I didn't mean to overstay my welcome – I didn't even realize I fell asleep. And I hope you know I really didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." She nearly needed to take a breath at the end. To her surprise, you offered a hint of a wry smile.

"I was actually going to thank you for keeping me company last night. And no, I wasn't uncomfortable at all. Seriously." You looked away with a slight shrug. "If anything, I was a little surprised to find my bed empty first thing this morning. I didn't expect that kind of thing from you."

"Oh, I-" Jessie began to stammer, cut off by you laughing and waving a hand in dismissal.

"I'm kidding. I'm just giving you a hard time." The heavy blush on Jessie's cheeks was blatant and you smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"I wouldn’t do that," Jessie clarified, her voice higher than usual as she looked distractedly to the corner of the room with a shrug of her own. "I just," she forced herself to look back at you, "I didn't know you wanted me to stay."

At this, you smiled and took a step forward, nearly causing Jessie's breath to catch.

"You are always welcome to stay. But anyway, I wanted to thank you for last night in general. I really enjoyed all of it." Jessie nodded and smiled back.

"Yeah, me too."

"I hear we're taking Vespas to this spot this morning. Can I ride with you?" You asked with a slight tilt of your head. Another blush flared out across Jessie's cheeks as she stumbled through her reply.

"Yeah, I'd love that. I mean, of course you can – I don't mind." She hid her hands behind her back as if that would make her appear more casual.

"Okay, great," you said with a nod and a lingering smile. If Jessie wasn't mistaken, you gave her a brief once over. "You'll take care of me, right?" A bright grin crossed your face; it was teasing, but it was warm and affectionate.

"Y-yeah, of course. I will," Jessie replied, doing her best to stay composed, shoulders back.

"I know," you said. "I trust you. Okay, well I'll see you downstairs." You closed out your sentence with a gentle squeeze of Jessie's arm before you turned and left.

Jessie finished getting ready, but she felt shaky and dizzy – in a great way – from the interaction you just had. She grabbed her sunglasses and hat and tossed them into her bag as a fleeting insecurity crossed her mind – what if 'company' was really all she was? That you were just lonely now that you were single. Her thoughts continued to spiral until she paused and closed her eyes, doing her best to push down those feelings; they wouldn't do her any good.

When Jessie trotted downstairs, it was just her and Niamh.

"So, late night, huh?" Niamh said with a smirk tugging at her lips. "Y/N told me you were both up super late talking in her room. Which you neglected to mention..."

"It's not a big deal," Jessie dismissed with an unconvincing frown as she crossed her arms.

"Mhm," Niamh voiced as she gave the brunette a light nudge. She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "Just tell her you like her! She's single now!"

"I-I don't like her," Jessie protested, trying to look aghast in her denial.

"Oh my God." Niamh rolled her eyes. "I've been letting you get away with hiding it for so long because, well yeah, Y/N was off the market. But she's not anymore. So make a move!"

Jessie stared at her friend for several moments as her mind processed what to do. She eventually relented.

"Yeah, but, she just got out of a long-term relationship. She's probably not ready for anything and – you know, we're friends. I don’t want to ruin that," Jessie responded, glancing back over her shoulder now and then to ensure no one was approaching. Despite being caught off guard by this conversation, a huge weight suddenly felt lifted from her shoulders at finally being able to admit to someone that she liked you.

"Just tell her. Please. It's killing me seeing you dance around her the way you do," the defender complained.

"I don't," Jessie pouted.

"Oh, you do," Niamh retorted, leaning in pointedly. "Like a love-sick puppy."

"Shut up," Jessie complained, whined even. She jumped as footsteps came from the stairs.

"Alright, we're ready," Zee said as you both jogged down the steps. Jessie nearly rolled her eyes at herself with how she went up on her tiptoes momentarily, smiled brightly and even offered a lame wave at you as you came up. Jessie blushed at the laugh that came from Niamh.

"Ready to go?" Jessie interjected, as she hastily ushered everyone outside.

Soon you all reached the rental spot, squared everything away and were ready to hit the road.

Nervous, excited energy started creeping up in Jessie again as the agent left you all to your bikes. She idly played with the helmet in her hands and worked up the courage to turn to you.

“You still good to ride with me?” She asked as nonchalantly as she could. You nodded.

“I am. If you’re still good with it too.”

I’ve been thinking about nothing but that.

“Yeah, all good,” she played off.

She set her helmet over the handle bars and reached for the one in your hand.

“Safety first,” she said as she gently placed the helmet on your head. She bit back a pleased smile as you began to blush. It gave Jessie a confidence boost. “I told you I’d take care of you, after all.” She closed the clasp and tightened the straps a touch. She finished by brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. “You’re all set. Feel okay?”

“Yeah, thank you,” you answered, a blush still lingering on your cheeks with a coy smile. It felt nice to Jessie that for once you were the one being shy.

Soon Jessie mounted the bike and got settled before shuffling forward a bit on the seat.

“Okay, hop on," she instructed.

The charm and bravado she had a few minutes prior was quickly quashed by nerves in anticipation of you straddling the seat behind her.

An immediate warmth went through Jessie as you placed a hand gingerly on her shoulder to steady yourself as you got on. She swallowed inaudibly as you settled in. Although you sat closely behind her, contact was minimal.

“You might need to hold on,” Jessie suggested. It wasn’t even a lie.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as you looked around, seemingly contemplating your options.

“I think that means I need to put my arms around you. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, that’s totally fine.”

Jessie had to stifle the way she nearly cleared her throat as your hands came around her torso, clasping your hands together to enclose your arms around her and shuffling in slightly, now brushing against her back.

“Is this okay?” You asked.

Jessie was grateful that she had the helmet on and could face forward because her face had to be beet red.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.” Perfect? Jessie nearly groaned. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

You tightened your grip slightly. “I’m good.”

Jessie bit her bottom lip, hard, as she suffocated the noise that bubbled up her throat as a small, adorable squeak escaped you and you tightened your gripped significantly on her as you started to drive.

“I’m sorry,” you said over the sound of the bike as you relaxed your grip a touch.

“Don’t worry,” Jessie called back. “Hold on as tight as you like. I don’t mind.” A smile tugged at her lips as your arms enclosed a bit tighter again.

Jessie navigated you through traffic. You chatted and joked at red lights and even though your journey just started, she already didn’t want it to end. Her jaw clenched as she struggled to remain composed as you rest your chin on her shoulder at one particular stop. It took every once of control for her to not place her hand on yours and lean back into you.

Soon you were jetting down a scenic highway and Jessie couldn’t have been much happier. She was surrounded by incredible sights, she was outdoors, and there was the small fact that the girl she loved had her arms wrapped around her as you enjoyed all of this together.

After you reached your destination and parked your bikes, you all took your belongings and began to walk around the area. Niamh and Zee naturally paired up and wandered ahead while Jessie and you hung back on your own. Jessie wasn't about to complain.

At one point, you both stopped along the shoreline and were just looking out at the ocean waves. Jessie adjusted the hat she'd brought with her and tucked her hands into her pockets as she watched the rhythmic push and pull of the water. Though you were wearing sunglasses, it was still bright enough out that you held a hand above your eyes to further shield the sun.

"Do you have a hat?" Jessie asked as she nodded to the bag hanging over your shoulders.

You turned your head to Jessie, forehead creased in a squint. "No. Not yet."

Suddenly, your hand flew up and Jessie felt her hat being plucked off her head. She didn't even have time to process, she just instinctively ran after you who was a few paces ahead, laughing and placing the hat onto your head as you ran. It only took Jessie a few quick strides to catch up to you though and found herself wrapping her arms around you to hold you in place. You squealed with a laugh, and turned in Jessie's arms, your bodies close enough that your hands came up to rest on top of Jessie's shoulders.

"I'm not sure what reality I thought I was in where I'd be able to outrun you," you joked, your cheeks flushed pink. Jessie smiled, belatedly realizing that she still had her arms around you.

"You know what? The hat looks better on you anyway," she replied as she finally let go and took a step back.

"I'm just kidding," you said as you started to take it off. Jessie reached out, hand resting on top of yours and keeping you from removing the hat.

"Seriously. Go ahead - you should wear it," Jessie continued. Your blush deepened as a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

"Okay. If you insist," you accepted.

You two continued to idly talk and wander around, eventually catching up to Niamh and Zee. You stopped by shops, checked out landmarks, and all the while Jessie was on cloud nine. Her heart fluttered in her chest as you would stop now and then to request a selfie together - something Jessie would normally adamantly avoid, but things were different with you. And, of course, if Zee ever caught you taking a selfie, she'd stop and take a picture of you together instead. While it worked Jessie up, feeling under the microscope, those thoughts were quickly pushed from her mind whenever she felt your arm around her waist.

The day went by with moments of a lingering stare, a blush, a fleeting touch, and the odd teasing look from Niamh who watched on. When you all drove back to town it wasn’t even a question if you would ride with Jessie again and you settled into one another easily this time. If someone asked Jessie, it wasn’t just you holding on, it felt like an embrace this time. The only thing that could’ve made it better was if you two were actually together. Even if nothing came to be though, Jessie was resolute that this memory would be one she’d cherish no matter what.

When you got back into town, you walked over to a local pub to grab a late dinner. Your group took up a table towards the back of the establishment, Jessie and you taking the bench seat and sitting close enough that your legs brushed up against one another's. Jessie's faced heated up once again as she spied the smirk on Niamh's face.

"Uh, what are you going to get?" Jessie asked as she absently ran her fingers through her hair and sat up a bit to peer over at your menu as if she didn't have her own right in front of her.

"I don't know - this sandwich looks pretty good, but I'm not that hungry either," you replied, turning your head towards her.

"Oh yeah, I was looking at that too. Want to share? I'm not super hungry either," Jessie offered. She shot a dark look at Niamh who snickered from across the table.

"Something funny, Niamhie?" You asked seemingly innocently as you smiled at her.

"Nothing, love," Niamh responded with a gentle smile and returned her attention to her menu.

The night carried on and at some point Niamh and Zee found themselves at the bar chatting with a couple other tourists, leaving you and Jessie on your own.

At one point, your phones buzzed at the same time - you frowned at one another and you retrieved your phone to see what it was. After a moment you laughed and turned to look at Zee across the bar who immediately started laughing as well, obviously waiting for the two of you to react.

"Zee's been busy," you explained as you held up your phone for Jessie to see the post of the two of you looking rather cozy together and posing earlier in the day; you in Jessie's hat and all.

"Oh," Jessie commented, at a bit of a loss for words, more distracted by the butterflies in her stomach instead.

You tucked your phone away and you two continued to talk until your phone began to buzz again. Jessie didn't think much of it and you ignored it, but it soon buzzed again and you rolled your eyes, retrieving it once more.

Jessie wasn't intentionally trying to spy, but her eyes were drawn to your screen and she couldn't help but notice the name attached to the messages - your ex.

Jessie now watched intently out of the corner of her eye as you quickly flipped through the messages before exhaling heavily and sitting back against the bench.

A few awkward moments passed, neither of you speaking until Jessie's curiosity got the better of her.

"Everything good?" She tried to ask nonchalantly.

"Yeah. It's fine," you responded in a flat tone. Jessie watched as you studied the table with arms folded against your chest, deep in thought. You then suddenly seemed to become aware of Jessie's eyes on you and sat up, plastering a tight smile on your face. "Can I grab you a drink?"

"No, I'm alright, thanks," Jessie replied, her own tone now taking a dip at the turn in your interaction.

She watched silently as you stood and walked over to the bar, pulling Niamh aside. Jessie tried desperately to somehow discern what you were saying, but you two were leaned in speaking to one another so Jessie couldn't even try to lip read. Regardless, the light and playful mannerisms you had before were long gone. And so were Jessie's.

She should have known. This was all too good to be true. Jessie slumped in her seat and distractedly swirled what remained of her water. She didn't know what was going on, but it upset her either way. She felt stupid for letting herself get her hopes up and for thinking that this could be anything more. She should've just stuck to the original plan - friends and nothing more. She tried to ignore the way the corner of her eyes started to burn, but the sensation didn't go away. When she found her gaze drawn back to you, still with Niamh and on your phone again, the feeling got worse. She stood up abruptly, jostling the table as she did so, and quickly walked outside. She needed some air and she'd be damned if she started crying in the middle of the pub for all to see.

She paced back and forth on the sidewalk, fists buried in her pockets as she ground her teeth together and tried to regain control of her emotions. The logical side of her brain tried to reason with her and tell herself that she didn't even know what was going on - there was nothing to jump to conclusions about. However, that side of her was getting drowned out by the pent up feelings that had been brewing for months on end and that she'd foolishly begun to uncap the past couple of days. Serves her right, she thought ruefully.

Jessie wasn't sure how much time had passed until she felt her phone buzz in her back pocket. She wanted to ignore it, but couldn't resist pulling it out to check. It was you.

Where did you go? Are you okay?

Jessie let out a shaky sigh and stilled her movements. She took a deep breath and committed herself to going back in. She was hopeful that she appeared calm and normal again.

When she stepped inside she saw you'd returned to the table. It only took a moment for you to spot Jessie and you sat up and greeted her with smiled at her.

Jessie took a breath and approached, sitting down again on the bench, but this time leaving a bit of space.

"Are you alright?" You asked, watching Jessie intently.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just wanted to get some air. Everything good with you?" Jessie returned, offering you a fleeting glance before fixating on her glass.

"Yeah, I'm good," you responded lightly. And truthfully, you did seem better than before. Jessie waited for you to elaborate, but instead you nodded towards Zee and Niamh. "Those two seem to be having a good time," you redirected with an amused laugh.

"Yeah," Jessie agreed as she slumped further in her seat.

The conversation between you, for the first time in a very long time, was jilted and awkward, perhaps increasingly more so by the time you were all walking back to the villa. In fact, Jessie's mood was so foul by the time you were heading back that she was straggling at the back on her own in silence. She determinedly ignored the odd glance you shot over your shoulder at her.

When you arrived back at the villa, Niamh and Zee wanted to sit around the firepit and hang out, but Jessie wasn't interested. She noted how you watched her as the girls asked her to stay downstairs for a drink, but it wasn't enough to compel her. Instead, she retreated to her room. She knew she was being a downer, but she couldn't be bothered to care right now. She knew she'd probably be embarrassed by her behaviour later and find herself making a round of apologies, but she just needed to be alone.

She was laying on the bed, still in her street clothes, when the door swung open sometime later. She sat up quickly, an irritated frown on her face before she rolled her eyes realizing it was just Niamh. She laid back down.

"What's going on?" Niamh asked as she closed the door and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You tell me," Jessie retorted before taking it down a notch. She sighed, sitting up and offering her friend a fleeting look of apology.  "Y/N's ex was texting her. Do you know what that was about?"

Now it was Niamh's turn to roll her eyes. "Yes. [Y/Ex] saw the post Zee put up of you two. And let's just say she wasn't pleased."

"Huh?" Jessie asked with a deep frown.

"You're being moody and angsty over nothing. I suggest you talk to Y/N. If she's not too pissed at you for sulking when you should've been consistent and supportive," Niamh said lightly, but still with an unmistakable pointedness.

"She's pissed?" Jessie asked, guilt now sweeping over her.

"No. But she's worried you're mad at her. Personally, I think she's being too soft on you," Niamh teased.

Jessie scratched her head as she contemplated the situation she created for herself. She sighed and Niamh went on.

"Zee's gone to bed and I’m going too. Y/N's still downstairs if you want to talk to her. As in, get your stubborn ass down there. And don't talk in circles. Just be direct."

Jessie grumbled lightly, but got up. This is why she didn't do relationships. They always just complicated things and people got hurt even if that wasn't anyone's intention. She was jolted from her thoughts as Niamh slapped her hard on the back, sending her stumbling a couple of steps.

"You can thank me later," Niamh said with a wink.

Jessie wandered over to the window and peered down. Sure enough, you were sitting outside at the firepit sipping some tea. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Jessie padded lightly down the steps and out to the back patio. Her chest tightened nervously as your gaze was pulled from the fire up to her.

"Hi," Jessie greeted timidly giving a feeble wave. "Mind if I join you?"

"Go ahead," you said as you gestured to the seat across from you, same as you two were situated last night. "Feeling better?" Jessie detected no malice in your voice.

"Yeah, thanks," Jessie replied, a hand nervously coming up to scratch the back of her head. "Um, I'm sorry about earlier. I was…in my head, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you accepted. "Happens to all of us." A few beats passed and you spoke again. "And I can't help but think that I caused it anyway."

A blush formed on Jessie's cheeks as she felt under scrutiny. She looked into the flames and gave a shrug. "Oh, no. It's not your fault."

You quirked a crooked smile at Jessie. "I don't know. I'm pretty sure I got a little out of sorts first and that set things off."

Jessie contemplated how to proceed. Now was as good a time as any - she dove right in.

"When [Y/Ex] texted you, right?" She watched for your reaction, noting the slight raise in your eyebrows. "I didn't mean to see - I saw her messages come up before I could look away. I'm sorry."

A heavy sigh escaped you and you sunk into your seat a bit.

"That's fine," you finally said. "And yeah - you're right."

Jessie did her best to not read into the lack of explanation. She normally would interpret this as you being cagey, which would then cause her to bottle up, but Niamh was right - she needed to be more direct. And if she wanted something with you, she needed to be more open.

"You know you can talk to me about it," Jessie offered gently. "I know I've never really talked with you much about your relationship with her. And that isn't great of me - makes me not such a good friend. But I hope you know I'm here for you above anything else. I'm sorry I acted the way I did earlier. I got upset when I shouldn't have instead of being supportive." She went on quickly. "So, even though you have Niamh - please know you can talk to me, too. Even if it seems like you can't."

You rubbed your eyes tiredly, pulling a frown out of Jessie.

"Well, frankly, that's difficult when you're part of the problem," you eventually replied with a weary sigh. Jessie's pulse quickened immediately and her stomach dropped.

"I'm sorry?"

You sat forward, leaning your arms on the top of your legs. You rest your head in your hands for a moment before looking over at Jessie.

"Can I ask why those texts upset you?"

Jessie swallowed and she tried to ignore how she could practically hear her blood coursing through her veins.

"Um. Yeah," she responded, hoping her voice wasn't as shaky as it seemed in her head. She pushed the palms of her hands out along her pants, trying to get some of the sweat off of them. "I, um, well we were having a really great day. And I guess when I saw her messages come through. I…," she trailed off before steeling herself with a quick breath, now raising her gaze to meet yours. "I got jealous."

She kept her eyes trained on you, watching for any indication of how you felt about this confession. Eventually, you let out a small laugh and sat back. Jessie studied you with a frown and worked hard to not feel offended by the gesture.

"Well, I guess that's the theme of the day," you eventually said with a smirk. You stood and Jessie felt her palms continuing to sweat as you made your way around the firepit to sit in the chair next to hers. You turned so your knees were pointed towards Jessie and was mostly facing her. "[Y/Ex] saw Zee's post of us, and, well, it didn't go over well."

Jessie sat silently. Her mind raced as she tried to anticipate what would happen next. You went on.

"She and I haven't really talked since the breakup. Which is totally fine - the breakup was civil and I don't really believe in being friends after, but yeah, the post fired her up a bit." You took a quick breath. "She saw the post of us, and she made a few accusations. And I couldn't even be angry about it, because, she had a point."

Jessie shifted in her chair, a mixture of curiosity and anxiety hanging over her.

"I told you yesterday that [Y/Ex] and I broke up because I didn't feel for her what I should have. And that was true." You took another breath, averting your gaze briefly before meeting Jessie's again. "The part I didn't tell you is that I realized my feelings for her weren't what they should be because I was feeling that way for you instead." You dropped her gaze. "I was ignoring it for a while, but it got to the point where I couldn't play it off as some passing thing. I would've been stringing her along if I didn't end things."

Jessie's words were caught in her throat as she struggled to process the things you just said. She swallowed, blinking several times as you turned back to her.

"When we broke up, she flat out asked me if it had something to do with you." You laughed wryly. "That's how bad things were getting. Anyway, I told her it didn’t. I didn’t see the point in bringing it up or hurting her in that way - plus you and I have clearly never spoken about any of this. Anyway, when she saw that picture of us…she had some choice words for me. And not all of them untrue.”

Jessie sat their shell-shocked. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. You liked her? In fact, to the point where it actually interfered with her past relationship? She was so puzzled and unsure of how all of that could be.

“I need you to know that none of this is on you," you went on adamantly. "You didn’t do anything to cause my breakup. You were always very respectful and no lines were ever crossed. But I think that’s just it - you didn’t even have to try and I started falling for you.”

“Y/N-”

“I’m almost done. I swear. So, yes, I was upset earlier when I got her messages. Because she wasn’t wrong - I made her believe things ended because I just wasn’t in love with her. But I was protecting myself from feeling guilty more than preserving her feelings. And the worst part is that while she’s seeing this post of you and me and making all kinds of assumptions, including that I was seeing you behind her back months ago, I was feeling excited at just the notion of you and I together. So, yeah, I felt horrible and conflicted and I couldn’t talk to you about it, because well, you were involved.” You scratched your arm nervously. “Still are. Anyway, I didn’t mean to upset you. Or drag you into any of this. But um, I guess my omissions or white lies are hurting people regardless. So, now you know. I’m sorry.”

Jessie shook her head in a bit of a daze.

“What are you sorry for?” She asked, her voice a bit thin as she continued to process things.

“I just dumped a lot on you. And you didn’t ask for any of it. So I'm sorry. And I really hope we can still be friends.”

“What if I don’t want to be friends?” Jessie asked, resisting a smile that tugged at her mouth. She saw the worry flash across your face and she mercifully went on. “Y/N, I’ve had feelings for you more or less since I met you. And they've never gone away.” The lop-sided smile revealed itself at the way you now looked at her. Jessie blushed a bit and tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. “And, yeah, I got jealous tonight. Which I know isn’t good. But, I finally felt for a moment like maybe we could be something more and then your ex came up. I felt like I lost my chance before it even began.”

You smiled softly at her. “Not at all. I’m still very much interested. If you are. I know you said yesterday your schedule makes it too hard to date, so, if that’s a dealbreaker for you, I can understand.”

Jessie shook her head quickly, eyebrows raised high. “No! Not at all. I was just trying to deflect,” she admitted bashfully. She scratched the back of her neck. “I was just making up an excuse for why I wasn’t dating. I couldn’t very well admit that it was because I was pining for you,” she finished with a dry laugh.

You nudged forward in your chair, knees coming closer to Jessie’s, but not able to quite touch.

“I really had no idea,” you said, a bit of a smile of wonderment on her face. “I mean…there were moments during our friendship where I was hopeful, but I couldn’t let myself think too much about it either. And I meant it when I said you’re one of the sweetest people I know, which I adore about you, but it also makes it hard to know if you’re treating me differently than anyone else.” You finished with a laugh.

“And I was trying really hard to not act differently with you at all before you and [Y/ex] broke up. I guess it’s really only been the last little bit, especially this weekend, where I’ve felt like I could even begin to entertain the thought of anything more,” Jessie explained and you nodded.

“So,” you said slowly and inched closer, “you’re saying your schedule isn’t a dealbreaker, then?”

“Not unless it is for you,” Jessie answered, shifting in her chair to meet you, your legs now touching.

“Even if your schedule's crazy, if she’s the right one for you…,” you trailed off, prompting Jessie to finish.

“She'll understand and it’ll make the times you’re together that much sweeter.”

“Exactly,” you confirmed as you reached out and grasped Jessie’s hand. She readily took it, a lump forming immediately in her throat as her heart began to race. She sat on the very edge of her seat and swallowed her nervousness.

“So, how do you feel about dinner and drinks when we get back to town?” Jessie asked, eyes hopeful.

“Are you asking me on a date, Jessie?” You teased warmly.

Jessie smiled wide and nodded. “I am. Finally.”

The next thing she knew, you leaned in and the moment Jessie had dreamt of for so long was upon her. She closed her eyes and the space between you. She nearly lost her breath the moment your soft lips were upon hers.

You stayed like that for a few moments before you deepened the kiss, which she readily returned. Jessie wasn’t sure how much time passed until you broke apart.

“And that’s a ‘yes’, for the record,” you added. Jessie chuckled softly and leaned in to kiss you once more, a rush of butterflies going through her.

“I was hoping so."

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #woso x reader #woso #woso community #chelsea wfc #canwnt #woso imagine

[ichigokeks]

Bed Friend EP 2 Analysis

Their different point of views on love and relationships is visually shown in so many layers in this single scene. Uea is on the inside while King is on the outside. Uea has been pushing King away and kept him at a distance because of his assumption that King is a player. They are also visually on two different door slides. The door slides close, bringing them together while shutting King out at the same time is a visual parallel to them sleeping with each other and Uea pushing King away harshly afterwards.

However, they have moved past that. They both take a step towards each other: Uea apologises for being rude and King tries to cheer Uea up and makes his intentions clear. Driving Uea to the hospital and meeting his mother, he gets a glimpse into Uea’s life. He is also the one to initiate more interactions. Visually he is also the one to step into Uea’s panel of the door. They move towards each other until their reflections align! That is when they reach some sort of understanding. Funnily enough, Uea’s “Try?” is ambiguous. It could refer to them being friends with benefits or wanting to see whether King can stop being flirty and focus on him alone, since that is actually the moment when King said: You won’t know until you try.

#bed friend #netjames #thai bl #net siraphop #james supamongkon #domundi tv #bed friend the series #bed friend ep 2 #bed friend analysis #bed friend edit #asian drama

[hergrandplan]

Wilmon didn't break up... and here's why

Last analysis for now (then i'm just gonna write my feelings into fic) but I know we're all worried about that final scene. However, not only does it solidify my belief in endgame from a storytelling/build-up perspective, I am having a hard time believing Simon is actually breaking up with Wille in the first place. I think, this is him reaching out, telling Wille he's scared, sharing his feelings. He's not going about it well but really, these boys are still not great at communicating to each other.

And the reason why I think this, is because Simon got into bed with Wille.

Let me set the scene: it's Wille's name day, a terrible one I think we can all agree on, and Simon is upset and Wille is upset and no one is really having a great time. This is the first time Simon's actually seen Wille lash out. As someone else pointed out, we know Wille has anger issues. Simon doesn't. Well, now I guess he does. He's scared. He's terrified. He didn't know the boy he's so madly in love with could do this. And we know Simon has a history of violence from someone close to him as well. All in all, he has many feelings. And so, he goes talking to Wille about it.

"I can't do this" is, admittedly, a little bit of a weird thing to say but again, Simon and communication aren't really the best of friends.

But it's Wille's birthday and I like to believe that Simon has the common sense to at least not literally break up with him on his birthday. Not to mention, he's in the middle of nowhere, in a strange place. Like in terms of terrible timing, it really can't get worse than that. He has no place to go besides the bed, and I think it would be very awkward to break up with your boyfriend and to then try and fall asleep next to him.

It could be that it's a heat of the moment thing, sure. But that doesn't change one very important detail: he actually gets in the bed, behind Wille.

If it's a break up, he probably had been toying with the idea before he got back to the bedroom. Nothing explosive happened in that scene to make him decide right then and there. If it was a break up, it would have made more sense for him to sit on the edge of the bed, next to Wille. they still wouldn't have been able to see each other's faces, there still could have been a dramatic turn around or sit up. But from the edge of the bed it would have been easier to leave (to another room, the palace, wherever).

But no. simon gets into bed with Wille, indicating that he's at least planning on falling asleep there (or trying to).

Either Simon is just really dumb, and doesn't think things through, or he's not actually breaking up with him.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#young royals #yr #young royals season 3 #yr s3 #yr s3 spoilers #young royals s3 #simon eriksson

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Oral Support - Ghost x Reader [M]

Summary: A disastrous brush with auto-correct leads you down a path you had only ever dreamed of walking.

Notes: 18+, Implications of smut, actual smut, graphic descriptions of smut, no use of pronouns for Reader except for ‘you’, fluffy towards the end of both parts (separated by - ), Reader over-thinks (don’t we all?), oral (male receiving), a bit of angst at the beginning of part 2 (Parts 1 and 2 separated by the - ), mentions of pain, graphic description of smut, fluff at the end, (Y/N) is a little awkward at first, (Y/N) is inexperienced, (Y/N) also gets anxious, nervous knuckle cracking, pet name used.

Wordcount: 4,897 words

The fact that you’d managed to get as close to Ghost as you had was in itself miraculous. Well, ‘close’ being an exaggeration; immediate acquaintances, at the least. Friends, at the most. Regardless, it had come with its many obstacles.

Such as now, after your inquiry about Ghost’s day, which you’d hoped to be benign, which was met with a simple: Alright.

Oh god, the dreaded full stop.

Your heart spiked, your back was up. Your micro-analysis began.

He doesn’t usually end sentences with a full stop - he thinks they’re a waste of time. Is he mad at me? Did someone steal his phone and impersonate him? Is he okay?-

You heaved a sigh. Told yourself to calm down.

It’s fine, you’re fine, he’s fine. Stop over-thinking everything.

But alas, that is what we are all victims to when in the throws of a crush.

The word had crossed your mind every now and again, dancing between your synapses like a demon in a church. It made you cringe, made you feel juvenile. Inferior. But you couldn’t deny it. In spite of its childish connotations, it was what you were experiencing.

You had a crush on Ghost.

Absolutely ludicrous is what you’d called it when you were alone. Totally and unequivocally baseless. You hadn’t even seen his face, nor did you know his name. You just knew that you liked him. And you’d hoped that somehow, somewhen, he’d grow to tolerate you, too. And that hope was being steadily fed by Soap, who’d reassured you during your sleep-deprived, delirious ramblings (of which you remember little) that “Getting Ghost’s number is a good sign,” and that it meant he “at the very least acknowledges you.”

Better than nothing,you’d convinced yourself. Better to be acquaintances than strangers.

You knew not to press the issue. You knew when to stop. But you just wanted to make extra, doubly sure.

Positive?

You hoped he’d understood your message. Hoped it hadn’t been too vague. Your phone pinged. He always managed to get back to you quick enough, you’d noted - something Soap had brought to your attention, too.

Yeah.

Okay, you told yourself. Enough stress. Time for bed.

You were about to put your phone down. Just about to. Then, a brilliant idea flashed in your mind.

You opened the message board again and began typing.

I’m here for moral support if you want it

Perfect, you told yourself. Not pressuring him to open up but making yourself available to him. Brilliant.

You sent the message, put the phone away, and turned in.

But something crossed your mind just as sleep caught up with you. It was a nagging feeling, the same twinge of anxiety one gets when they wonder if they’ve locked their front door or taken their chicken out to defrost overnight.

It made you uncomfortable. You shifted, hoping a change of position would make it go away.

It didn’t.

You turned to lay on your back, huffed, and looked up at the ceiling, as if the answer lay there.

What is it? you asked yourself. What could it possibly be?

You ran through your day, brushing over everything you’d done, anything you may have missed. Right up until you turned over on your side and tried to get some sleep.

And then it came to you. An intrusive thought, a message from God, a monster lunging out from a closet. It held your heart in its icy grip. Sitting bolt upright, you tore your phone from your nightstand and opened your message board with Ghost.

I’m here for oral support if you want it

How?! you screamed within. How could I have misspelled-

Auto-correct. Of course.

Even worse, Ghost had read it and said nothing.

You were on damage control immediately, putting all PR managers everywhere to shame.

*moral support

I meant moral support.

The full stop and calmness with which you communicated belied the storm that brewed in your mind. You tried to counteract it, asking yourself what the worst he could think or do was. That made it worse, your brain taking you down dark alleys and avenues of a lonely future, forcing you to shake hands with your own doom.

Eyes bleary with sleep and panic, you scarcely noticed that Ghost had replied, the only indication being your phone vibrating.

You scoured the screen, breaking your anxious haze and analysing his message.

Is that offer revoked?

The image - the intrusive image- of the implication of Ghost’s message flashed behind your eyes, blinding you. Your phone dropped onto your covers.

You stifled a scream.

What do I do? you thought. Who do I call?

You considered your best friend, but that was’t an option. Asleep, most likely. It was 2 AM. Their answer wouldn’t come quick enough.

Okay, Y/N, you can do this! Channel the energy of someone who knows what they’re doing.

You began typing.

Not if you want it ;-)

You’d accidentally channeled the energy of someone who had a good track record of flirting. Or, at least, you hoped.

Ghost began typing. Your heart pounded.

I’ll be back in a few days. Be ready for me.

Your heart seized. You screamed.

It worked! It’d actually worked! Auto-correct and your aimless flirting had done it!

Then, the excitement snapped off, a twig from a tree. Realisation dawned on you.

You only had a few days to perfect your technique. Now you really did need to call your best friend. I’ll do it tomorrow, you told yourself, and resisting the urge to message Ghost a plethora of excited nonsense, you took a shaky breath and lowered your phone to your side.

Somewhere amongst your newfound, delighted anxiety lay excitement, the hope that this accident, this interaction, could lead to something more. You smiled widely, the scene of you and Ghost, unmasked, on a date playing behind your eyelids, a projection of the future.

-

For lack of a better term, Ghost had ghosted you. After your interaction days before, you’d seen (or heard) neither hide nor hair of him; not from the boys, and certainly not from Ghost himself. Thus, here you were, knee bouncing as you perched on the edge of your sofa, mind racing with the ever-looming threat of rejection.

Maybe he was joking, you thought. Maybe he saw it as a throwaway flirtation and nothing more, maybe- maybe-

You didn’t want to cry. You really, really didn’t want to, but there was something about the possibility, the mere indication, of rejection - silent rejection at that - that made you want to choke up and shed a tear.

Get over yourself, it’s not like you had a chance anyway.

A cruel smile crossed your face. Ah well, nothing ventured, nothing lost. Or gained.

With creaking knees, you stood, a shred of a laugh at your absurd attempts to impress Ghost slithering up your throat. The taste of mint slathered on your tongue reminded you of the nigh ritualistic self-care you’d inflicted on yourself these last few days. All just for him.

Sighing, you glanced about your spotless, soulless apartment, any indication of idiosyncrasy shoved under your bed or into the boiler cupboard. After inviting your friend round for a pity party - the same friend who had rigorously instructed you on blowjob etiquette - this place would sooner resemble the remains of a celebrity blowout than the quaint little apartment you called home.

You hummed, hoping the impromptu song would distract you from the growing desire to cry. Wallow, one might say.

A reality-piercing rapping at your door tore you from your train of thought. You jumped, almost throwing up your own skeleton. Your heart thudded in your chest, a steadily unsteady rhythm of anxiety coursing through you like acid.

Silence for a moment. Then: “(Y/N)?”

Your knees almost buckled beneath the weight of your incredulity. THe voice was low, raspy, distinctly British, the North-Western Manchester industrialism evident within it. Almost unbelievable.

Your chest erupted with razor-edged butterflies, nerves frying, heart thrumming, harp strings played by a manic god.

“Uh- y-yeah?” you called, peering round the living room door and down the hallway, the front door just in sight. You didn’t want to sound as if the voice was too familiar to you, just in case it wasn’t. In case it wasn’t Ghost.

“You gonna let me in or what?”

You didn’t move for a second, and then moved all at once. “‘Course, coming!” Your voice wavered as you hurried down the hall and to the door. Reaching it, you breathed deeply, quietly, aware of how thin the walls were, straightened out your shirt, and unlocked the door.

And there he stood.

Very little light made it past him, his hulking form taking up all the room that the doorway could spare him, broad and unrelenting. His mask made him appear as a reaper, eyes dark as the rest of his attire. With him he carried a canvas bag. You swallowed thickly.

“H-ey,” you said lightly, voice strained, cracking. You coughed, tried again. “Hey,” you repeated, normally, this time, and leaned against the doorframe. Ghost only looked down at you, emotions and intentions unknown.

Well, mostly unknown. No doubt the message - the silent promise - you’d given him flashed in his mind as it flashed in yours, weaving itself into the fabric of your psychology as any tangible crush did.

“Did it take you long to get here?” Small talk. Well done, (Y/N). You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide the hammering of your heart, making the fabric of your shirt jump as it thudded against your chest.

“Depends.” was all Ghost said. He peered over your shoulder. “You alone?” The question made something in you stir. The implication sat heavy in your stomach. It promised something, wanting to crack and bloom. You nodded, not trusting your voice, fighting the smile blistering onto your lips.“Right, then.” Ghost rasped. He looked at you. You looked at him. You both waited for the other to do something. You realised it was your turn.“Oh!” you exclaimed, folding out of Ghost’s path. “Come in, make yourself comfortable-”

Ghost breezed past you, not one for formalities. You swallowed and shut the door behind him. You begged and pleaded with any deity available that you hadn’t already annoyed him.He found the living room and placed his bag down, its contents heavy, evidenced by the thunk it made as it hit the carpet. He shed his gloves soon after, throwing them atop the bag.

You followed behind, squeezing your fingers, cracking your knuckles. Your breathing was shallow and you felt warm all over, the beginnings of sweat forming under your armpits.

Ghost looked around; you could only assume he was familiarising himself with the environment. You coughed and gestured to the sofa, at which point Ghost turned and looked back at you.

“Take a seat,” you said, more requested, actually. Ghost gave a light nod and sat down, making the sofa bow in the centre beneath his weight. He gave a sigh, shut his eyes, and said nothing. He seemed to be comfortable, and you wondered if he’d come straight here from his latest mission. My head game needs to be immaculate to justify him coming all the way from God-knows-where to my apartment, you panicked.

You had the idea of prolonging said demonstration of said head game by offering Ghost tea, a British favourite, which he declined. You offered him water, biscuits, an omelette, a pair of fluffy socks, a film; he declined them all.

“I’ll tell you what I do want, though,” Ghost rasped, looking at you with undivided attention.

You wanted to be sick. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do this, you were simply mortified of the embarrassment that would come with not knowing how to walk the walk after talking the talk. You hoped you could buy yourself just a few more minutes to go over the needlessly explicit notes your friend had given you on this interaction. 

You didn’t want to play dumb, nor did you mean to. You just wanted more time. “What?” you said, nigh shaking with uncertainty.

Ghost beckoned you and, with nowhere else to run, you came to him, standing just out of reach of his knees. He took your wrist and pulled you closer. “On your knees,” he said. His voice felt heavier, either because of the mask or…something else.

Your heart jumped up your throat. You swallowed it.

And now, on buckling legs, you lowered yourself to the floor, pants keeping your knees from being carpet-burned. You kept your breathing quiet, trying to deepen it. Your nerves were no less frazzled.

Ghost lifted his hips from the sofa and unbuckled his belt. He withdrew himself from his pants before you could comprehend or prepare yourself for what was happening.

“Woah!” you exclaimed. Then, you felt your heart and stomach sink. I did not just say that out loud, you begged. Oh my god, no, please.

Ghost’s head tilted as he continued looking down at you, holding his cock in his hand. Given how large the rest of him was, this shouldn’t have been surprising. Still, you were impressed; especially considering he was already half-hard. Something in you felt tight and hot.

“Woah?” he said. You could practically feel him raising an eyebrow beneath his mask. “That impressive, is it?”

You found yourself nodding. You were past the initial point of shame until you encountered the next; your own inexperience. Ghost let out a huff of air, likely a laugh or one of its diluted associates.

“Well, I’m honoured,” he said. There was jest in his tone, and for that you were grateful. You smiled, trying to combat the growing fear overtaking you. Not as honoured as I, you wanted to say, but it felt far too mediaeval and, dare you say, cringe, for this situation. You just nodded. Again

And here you were, staring at the dick of the man who had become the most recent and potent object of your affections. With absolutely no inclination as to what to do next. Your hands were folded in your lap. You squoze them together, trying to disperse some of your nervous energy.

With every second that passed you could feel Ghost’s eyes burning holes into you. You knew the bare basics, and that was all anyone could ask of you. Just put it in your mouth and get it over with, you thought. Though, not that you didn’t want to take your time; you would have loved to given that you knew how to make Ghost feel good. But right now, your main concern was trying not to destroy any semblance of respect Ghost may have accrued for you by giving the most terrible head of his life.

All while thinking this, you hadn’t moved, eyes glazed over. Ghost’s baritone came as a startling distraction.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he said. There was mild concern laced somewhere in his voice.

“Oh, no! Totally fine!” you said. Your voice cracked and you winced internally.

“You sure?”

You nodded, smiling through the anguish. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just…been a while since I’ve seen…” you didn’t want to make eye contact with it again; it felt wrong to do so without doing something to it. 

“How long?” The rounded edges of his accent and refusal to pronounce a handful of letters felt oddly endearing to you in this moment. Or perhaps you were clutching at straws, anything else to pay attention to aside from the growing tension in the room.

“Uh…” you pretended to count how long ago your last encounter was, already knowing the answer. “About…I don’t know, doesn't matter - just a long time,” you smiled, your signature at the end of a disaster of a sentence.

Ghost said nothing. Did nothing. He leaned over, placing his elbows on his knees, and stared into you. His mask consumed your vision. You knew you couldn’t look anywhere else, frozen.

“(Y/N)...” he began, sighing lightly. “Do you actually wanna do this?”

“Yeah! I mean, I want to, I really want to! It’s just that…” You wanted to swallow your confession, hide it where nobody would ever find it. Ghost’s head tilted as he looked at you. 

“But what?” he said. His voice held no urgency, no pressure, but something…sincere. Curiosity? Perhaps he wasn’t accustomed to dealing with your sort.“I…” You sighed. The jig was up. Time to come clean.

“I’ve never actually done this before.” You hammered the final nail in your coffin. “Ever.” Your gaze dropped and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, to see his disappointment. You hid, pointing your face to the floor, your hands on your thighs. You heard Ghost shift.

“Well then, why didn’t you say so?” You felt a hand slide around the back of your head. You jumped, gaze snapping to meet Ghost’s. There was a glimmer in his eye. “I’ll guide you. Just keep your teeth out the way and suck.” His eyes were darker than they had been before. Even without the mask, you felt that he would look just the same.

You nodded, mouth ajar with shock. Ghost took full advantage by bringing your head down to his thighs and prying your mouth open with the tip of his cock. You jumped, he held you in place. You could feel how many hours he’d put into his strength by his firm grip in your hair; not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know that it could.

And that power made you warm and wet in places that typically couldn’t be provoked by real, physical men. The many figures and books you’d swept under both the proverbial and physical rug were evidence of this.

Taking in the bulbous tip, you recalled Ghost’s explicit instructions to keep your teeth out of the way and all but unhinged your jaw, trying to accommodate the first of many inches. With the restraint of a god, Ghost only watched, waiting for you to accustom yourself to his girth before continuing.

“Y’alright, Precious?” he said, squeezing your hair, prompting an answer. You hummed around him, making his eyes twitch and the rest of him harden. “Now,” he breathed, “be good for me. Keep goin’,”

You couldn’t nod, you couldn’t do anything aside from what he’d instructed you. And so, you descended. You inhaled another inch or two, swallowing when you felt your saliva collecting in your mouth. As soon as you did, Ghost jutted by a fraction. You decided to try something you remembered teaching yourself.

Your tongue gingerly danced along the edge of his shaft, trying to find the tip before it was too far down the back of your throat even for light to reach it. Ghost gave a light groan as your tongue glossed over the veins of his cock, stopping only upon feeling a dip in the head. Then, with little mercy or idea of what would happen, you stroked it with your tongue, continually, back and forth, in a sustainable rhythm that eased you into a comfortable monotony.

You closed your eyes, mapping out his member in your mind’s eye, a new, salt-like taste slick on your tongue as you went. Ghost’s light groaning turned into a deeper grunt, making your stomach feel tight. You recognised this new taste as pre-cum, something you’d thought was a myth until just now.

It excited you to think that you were the one making Ghost feel this way. You hazarded a glance at said man, and upon doing so, found him looking down at you through heavy eyes. You felt seen, and suddenly very naked. No, exposed. You resisted the flight response to withdraw.

Ghost’s hand rested on the back of your head, and, ever so slightly, you felt him pushing on it. “Go on,” he said through deepening breaths. “Take more of me.”

You obeyed, and, swallowing the collection of pre-cum and saliva collecting in your maw, urged yourself to take another inch or two. You gagged, the tip almost hitting the back of your throat. You could feel it practically grazing the soft, wet skin of your throat.

“S’alright, take your time,” he said, his chest appearing to rise and bay like the tide, deep and consistent.

You took a moment to familiarise yourself, to acquaint yourself with his size, before resuming. You knew you couldn’t take much more at this rate, and you didn’t want to open your eyes to see how much was left of him. Though, judging by the warmth radiating against your face and the tickling sensation of hair against your nose, you figured not too much more.

Your previous anxieties had washed away with Ghost’s soft guidance, leaving you to enjoy the sound of ghost’s groan-laced breaths and the barely restrained juts of his hips as his body urged you to take more.

You began bobbing your head, withdrawing your mouth before impaling it back onto Ghost’s length, all the while his breaths became more laboured, laced with groans and an odd moan. Your hands came to rest atop his knees, holding onto him. You yourself felt a wetness developing between your legs, though you tried not to think about it. A tightness formed in your core, jolting you with flashes of rapture.

You sucked hard, coaxing a faint ‘Ah' from Ghost, followed by the purr in his chest. Guttural groans.

You felt the sheer weight of Ghost’s dick on your tongue, making your jaw begin to ache. You tried to push this aside, too, opting instead to focus entirely on making sure Ghost finished. You’d read enough fanfiction to be able to tell when that would happen. 

Whenever you swallowed around his cock, you heard a strangled noise escape him, not yet a moan, but the promising beginnings of one. It was deep, gruff. You wondered if Ghost made noises like this while getting himself off. The thought sent another jolt between your legs.

The sound of your collective breathing and you guzzling your own pre-cum-laced saliva made the room feel smaller, encasing you both in your own story, one which you hoped had a happy ending.

“Fuck me,” he breathed as your tongue caught a particularly prominent vein, “you sure you’ve never done this before?” He looked down at you through half-lidded, almost closed eyes. Hooded. You felt a smile coming on yet was physically incapable of expressing it. You hummed a response, pride swelling in your chest as you watched Ghost’s eyes screw shut at the feeling.

You wondered if he was close, and, judging by the shortening space between his breaths and the amount of pre-cum filling your mouth, you believed so. His grip in your hair tightened and you could feel him becoming more lost by the second as his restraint crumbled, leading to his grip becoming somewhat painful.

You ignored it, instead trying to take the rest of him for the final stretch. You swallowed, then advanced, swallowing the last couple of inches. His tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged, trying to suppress the aching in your jaw and throat. Ghost hissed, his hips bucking once before he settled again. Your nose was pressed against the bottom of his stomach, dark, curly hairs tickling your nose.

You sucked him, felt him, your tongue trying to coat every inch of him in your saliva, the fire in your lower half burning brighter than ever. Your mind wandered to what it would feel like to be filled by him, encouraging you to go faster. Harder. You moved at a pace you thought was beyond your capacity, lips burning from the friction of sliding across the length of Ghost’s glossed cock.

“Just like that,” he breathed, just about capable of forming a cohesive thought, never mind a sentence.Something in your intuition told you he was close. Or perhaps it was in the way his groans had turned into deep, baritone moans and barely-comprehensible curses. You sucked harder.

“Keep goin’,” he said, breathless, “‘m nearly there,”

With a final push, running your tongue along a sensitive vein and swallowing, throat contracting around his tip, he came. Hard. He let out a mask-muffled moan, short yet harsh and potent, tailing off into a symphony of heavy breaths and groans. The sound made your core hot and tight, radiating tension and the promise of euphoria. 

His hand fused with your hair, gripping it tight enough to make you wince. Thick ropes of warm cum filled your mouth and throat, forcing you to withdraw as it went down the wrong way. You kept your mouth closed when you coughed, unsure of what to do with Ghost’s semen. It felt far too precious to spit out, yet you were unsure as to whether you were permitted to swallow. You watched Ghost collect his thoughts, his hold on your head loosening. He ran his fingers through where he’d held you, soothing you. Apologising for how rough he’d been.

His eyes opened, and he looked at you. You could see them widen fractionally as he spotted your cum-filled cheeks, waiting for his order.

“Fuckin’ hell.” he said, releasing a breath. Admiring his work. “Didn’t know you were waitin’ for me.”

You nodded, the taste of salt engulfing your tongue almost overwhelming. Ghost released the back of your head and deposited himself back into his pants, now having softened. He leaned down, just above eye level with you. “Swallow,” he ordered.

You did, and Ghost watched your throat bob. He gave a short hum and ran his thumb over the outline of your bottom lip. You leaned into his touch, his hand warm against your scorching skin.

You didn’t know how long you remained like that for, but it didn’t feel long enough. He withdrew, leaving you to feel cold without his immediate presence. Then, the reality of what you’d just done dawned on you. Your eyes widened, and you tried to keep your surprise to yourself.

You could scarcely believe that you’d actually - or rather, you and Ghost had - managed to do that without disappointing him. You only hoped it was as good for Ghost as he’d made it seem.

“Ghost,” you said, voice raspy and low, soft with inquisition. Ghost only hummed, leaning against the backrest of the sofa. “Did…” you swallowed, the slick remnants of him residing in crevices in your mouth. “Did I do well?” You almost wished you hadn’t asked, cringing at how desperate for confirmation you sounded. In your head, at least.

Ghost didn’t make it seem like that. He gave a slight nod.

“Very well,” he said, his emphasis reassuring you. You felt as if you could release the monstrous doubt accumulating on your shoulders. You gave a smile, plumping your flushed cheeks.

You both remained in slow silence, coming down from the excitement of what had just unfolded. Your gazes wandered the room, looking at nothing in particular. You wanted to maintain the tranquillity that had settled, but you felt another question burning in your lungs, desperate to be answered. You waited, then waited a little longer. Then, you asked.

“Ghost?” you said, your sore throat prickling, the ache in your knees becoming apparent to you. He looked to you. “Why did you come here?” Your question was genuine, and you didn’t want the skin-deep answer you knew was available to him; because I wanted a quick blow before I went home. You wanted him to look past that. His gaze was unintelligible.

“Why’d you invite me ‘ere?”

You blinked, then your honesty got the better of you. “Because…” You felt your face heating up again. You’ve literally just blown him, this should be a cake walk! “Because I...like you…?”

Ghost’s chest rumbled, likely a laugh.

“Well then, there’s your answer.”

Your heart wanted to soar, but the vagueness of his answer made you lust to ask just one more question.

“So…” you hoped your inquisitiveness (or density, as you might call it) was endearing, or at the least an excuse for your lack of abstract understanding. “Does this mean that you like me, too?” Your voice became more and more interrogative, phrasing the question in such a way that made it seem a mockery of itself, as if it were cosplaying its own function, exaggerated.

Ghost went quiet for a moment. “Honestly?” he said. You almost nodded before realising he was going to say more. “Yeah. I do.”

Okay, now your heart soared. You couldn’t fight the smile overtaking your features. Ghost noticed and made haste to try and revoke some of the joy he’d inflicted.

“Now don’t get all soppy on me,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “Else I’ll be forced to take drastic action.” Ignore you until you stop, is what your mind told you he’d do.

You tried to restrain your grin, but it remained. You could only reassure him verbally.

“No promises, Ghost,” you said, biting back the urge to laugh with joviality. Ghost shifted, his gaze becoming more intense. Serious.

“Call me Simon.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

Taglist: @cutiecusp

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[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (2)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer’s late-night endeavor is teased as a new case arises. wc: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+ content, graphic detail of murder

A/n: thank you for all the love it’s very much appreciated! also i want to remind you that this will be a long series, but if you like a murder mystery with a hint of humor and smut, then by all means please continue :3

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

BEING CALLED IN AT NIGHT WAS SOMETHING SPENCER WAS USED TO. It was part of his job. The moment he accepted to be part of the Behavior Analysis Unit at Quantico, he knew the downside of it all. The long hours and pressure to perform the job while working with some of the most dangerous and violent individuals could potentially affect him physically and mentally.

But above all that, he always looked at the bigger picture. His job was to bring justice by catching all the perpetrators of each crime he was assigned with. It was a very dangerous job yet he couldn't imagine his life without lending in his time and intelligence to catch the 'bad guys on the loose'—as Garcia would often put it. So having his dearest friend call him at two o'clock in the morning was something that occasionally occurred. He really didn't mind it.

Until tonight.

For the first time in his eleven years working as an FBI agent, Spencer wished the bad news could wait at least in the morning. By then he would have more time to spend his night with the most irresistible woman he had ever laid his eyes on.

He shook his head. Guilt was a complex, powerful emotion and it was what he was feeling right now. A dead body was found and all he could think about was the beautiful stranger who was now more than an enigma than she ever was. Even when he had seen her in her barest form, tucked underneath his warm body. Even when his hands had roamed around every corner of her luscious curves, her desperate moan sounded like the most beautiful melody to his ears.

God, he needed a drink. No, not alcohol, he wasn't one to drink liquor anyway. Well, excluding a few hours ago when sitting all alone waiting for his friends without holding any type of alcoholic drink seemed rather uncommon. He was already feeling out of place the moment he entered the dimly lit bar, his eyes scanning for any familiar faces but being greeted by none.

So ordering a bottle of cold beer seemed ideal as he sat by the bar on his own. He didn't even drink the whole liquid, merely gulping a sip or two before it became a mere prop for blending in with the crowd.

If it wasn’t for Garcia coaxing him into joining her and the girls for a night out in the city, Spencer would still be at the office, his nose buried in the paperwork he needed to finish. But Penelope Garcia was a force not to be underrated. She had a way with words and persuasion, thus Spencer found himself agreeing to spend the night with his peers.

Besides, he enjoyed being around them. He considered the people he worked with as more than mere colleagues. He had spent so much time with them that the bond developed was incredibly special and strong. He considered them as a sort of dysfunctional family in some ways, but it was a family nonetheless. It was a very unique relationship and a special one that he took pride in working with and he was very grateful to be a part of it.

But it didn't stop him from being mad at the fact they had bailed on him at the very last minute.

Fine—a little bit mad. They all seemed to have good excuses for their sudden absence. JJ had to drive back home for her sick son, Prentiss was called back into the office by their unit chief Hotch, and Garcia... well, her answer was pretty vague. All she had said over her frantic call was, "I'm so sorry, boy genius, I need to take a rain check tonight. I'll call you later!"

Then Spencer found himself in a situation he would never imagine being, sitting by himself at the most sociable place he could ever think of.

He needed to leave. The music bouncing over the stereo suddenly sounded too loud, and even though there weren't too many people inside the place, it was still enough to make his demeanor shut down from the several conversations floating in the air.

And don't get him started on the number of pathogens clinging to every nook and corner of this place. He shuddered at that thought as he once again wiped down the bar surface with another pile of napkins he requested from the bartender, who by the looks of it, was starting to eye him with annoyance.

A man suddenly pushed him from behind and went on his way without apologizing. Spencer made a mental note to never agree to another social request without a companion at his arrival. He was feeling more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

His fingers hastily tightened around the strap of his bag, ready to flee the scene when a sudden faint scent of chocolate fluttered through his nose.

Delicious, mouth-watering chocolate.

Spencer had always been conscious of his surroundings. The nerves in his brain would work their way into absorbing all kinds of entities that triggered his senses, and chocolate was a scent he could easily make out.

Chocolate smelled like... well, heaven. It had a sweet, decadent scent that was just divine, triggering all sorts of happy, positive emotions and reactions. He could point out a lot of facts about why roasted cocoa could trigger serotonin throughout one's body, but his brain was too busy trying to pinpoint the source of its scent.

Then he felt movement to his right and the scent lingered around the air like a delicious blanket coating his senses. And there she was—looking divinely gorgeous like heaven on a pair of legs.

Spencer knew there was no singular answer to describe one's beauty, as beauty was subjective and could be defined differently by each person. He also considered himself being very old-school as he perceived beauty through kindness and intelligence. Yet he was still a hot-blooded man and he wasn't going to lie; the woman sitting in front of him was physically attractive and pleasing to the eye.

The way her eyes lit up as they settled on him tightened the knot in his stomach. He might not have much experience with the opposite sex, but he knew when one was interested in his presence, and with that thought in mind he felt rather pleased and flattered.

His eyes roamed around her features; her glazed eyes, her high cheekbones, the delicate shape of her nose, and her plump lips that seemed to look so soft. It wasn't until later in the night he came to the conclusion that they were much softer than they looked. Because tasting her mouth was completely different than simply staring at it.

Spencer didn't know how touch-starved he was until he pressed his lips onto hers, lips that were incredibly soft yet turned every inch of his body very hard. He felt immensely dizzy with need as he nipped her bottom lip, feeling intoxicated each time she squirmed in his arms, her soft body pressing against him, making it more and more difficult to clear his mind with her hands between his legs—

"Late night?"

Spencer looked up. He could feel the blush creeping along his cheeks as if being caught having these inappropriate thoughts. Derek Morgan stood by his side, eying the amount of sugar stashed into the cup of coffee in his hand. To be fair, he really did need something that could wake him up and break him from going down memory lane again.

"Very," he murmured. He proceeded by mixing his caffeine with a spoon, unaware of how Morgan was watching him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"My man," Morgan teased. Spencer sensed the taunting edge in his voice and turned around.

On a normal occasion, he would deny the suggestive tone Morgan would often taunt. His friend had a way of teasing him in what seemed to be simply goodhearted banter. But Spencer wasn't exactly a good liar. He was already quite flustered by the topic of conversation and the moment he opened his mouth, he knew he would only make things worse.

So instead he kept his silence and sipped on his drink, ignoring the grin plastered on Morgan's face as if an epiphany had aroused him in his wake.

"My man," Morgan repeated, wrapping a playful arm around his shoulders. "What has kept the young Dr. Reid awake on this lovely night?"

He shoved his arm away. "I wouldn't consider myself youthful anymore."

Morgan snickered. "You're the baby of the team." Then to annoy him even further, he added, “Kid.”

"I'm thirty-six." Spencer frowned as they climbed their way toward the conference room. "You know, men in their mid-thirties have prefrontal cortexes that are fully developed and they have a lot more experience throughout their lives. Their body is also fully functional so they—I am most definitely a mature, fully grown adult."

"Do you know what else they say about men being in their thirties?" Morgan threw him another one of his grins. "A very high sex drive."

"Actually, studies show that 30% of healthy people aged between 65-74 still enjoy sexual intercourse weekly."

Morgan groaned. "Don't give me that mental image."

"Reid!"

The two men turned to see Garcia scurrying towards them. How she still conjured so much energy at this time of hour would always be a mystery to him. The determined look on her face reminded him of their last conversation on the phone and Spencer quickly turned away, walking into the empty conference room before sitting himself by the round table.

Noticing the weird interaction between his two friends, Morgan threw Garcia a questioning look. "What's going on?"

"Oh, I'll tell you what's going on." She hurriedly entered the room and grabbed the remote control sitting in the middle of the table. She poked Spencer with the device. "This boy right here decided he's too cool to hang out with us."

"Garcia, you're the one who bailed on me."

"So not the point," she deadpanned. "My question is, when are you going to introduce us to your girlfriend? I didn't even know you were dating."

Morgan's brows shot up as he took a seat beside him. "Girlfriend?"

Spencer looked down as she went on, "Imagine my surprise when he answered my call and there was a woman's voice in the background. At this hour."

Morgan laughed at her emphasis on the time because it was common knowledge only certain things happen this late. Especially with an alleged female company. "Really?"

Disliking the way he was thrown into the spotlight, Spencer leaned in his chair and crossed his arms defensively. "She's not my girlfriend."

That statement only raised their interest even further.

"Oh?" That was Morgan.

"You naughty minx." That was Garcia. "Since when have you been seeing her?"

Spencer had two options. He could ignore their curiosity and remain silent, or he could flat-out give them a lie. He looked between the interest on their face and decided he couldn't escape their probing curiosity, so he answered in a very low voice, "Tonight."

"Tonight?" Garcia asked in disbelief. "Wait—didn't you go to the bar earlier?"

"Yes, before everyone ditched me."

"Oh my god," Garcia squealed in surprise. "Dr. Reid, did you spend the night with a stranger?"

There was a long pause as the grip around his mug tightened. Morgan let out a choked laugh. "My man."

"Stop saying that," Spencer muttered, his lips inches away from his steaming cup.

"I can't believe this," Garcia gasped between her giggles, clearly fascinated by this new information. "Our resident boy genius is actually a Casanova in disguise."

"Who's a Casanova?"

The three of them turned to see Emily Prentiss walking into the room followed by a very curious David Rossi. His other colleagues clearly didn't hear the beginning half of their conversation and Spencer wanted to make sure it remained that way.

He casually took a sip of his drink and replied, "Giacomo Casanova. A famous Italian adventurer and author in the 18th century. He became famous for his often complicated and elaborate affairs with women."

Prentiss scoffed as she and Rossi sat down by the table. "I know who Casanova is, I'm asking who is a Casanova."

An awkward silence settled in the room. Spencer shifted in his seat. He really, really didn't want to deal with this. Spending a very intimate night with a stranger wasn't something he would like to discuss in front of his peers. Ever.

He could feel the heavy weight of everyone's eyes and the blush slowly creeping along his cheeks when Derek stepped in, giving the room one of his charming smiles. "We were talking about me."

"You?" Prentiss quirked one of her eyebrows in mocked surprise. "I don't think your girlfriend would be happy with that."

Morgan easily laughed. "We were discussing my old Casanova days."

"Yeah," Garcia interjected. "We were talking about how bad his choices of female friends were."

"Hey!"

"Until now." She gave him a toothy grin. "We love Savannah."

Morgan rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He caught Spencer staring at him with a grateful smile and returned the gesture with an understanding nod. Spencer relaxed as the conversation rolled by and the topic of his secret escapade was long forgotten.

For now.

JJ, another member of the team, entered the room a few minutes later with a huge smile. Then the moment their unit chief, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, followed behind, everyone knew it was back to business.

Spencer placed his mug down on the table and focused his attention on the case at hand.

"Alright, so." Garcia pointed the remote towards the black screen and a moment later, gruesome pictures of a murder scene were presented in different angles. The picture of the male body covered in blood greeted them before a passport shot of a middle-aged man smiling happily at the camera was shown. "Fifty-six-year-old Kevin Marshall, a corporate lawyer, was found dead at his home by his secretary."

"At home?" Derek wondered. "Were there no security?"

"There was a sudden blackout going on in the neighborhood for about seven minutes. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at that time of hour. His wife and kids were visiting her parents and Mr. Marshall was at home finishing some work. It wasn't later on when he didn't answer his calls that his secretary found him lying in his office with several stab wounds."

"Time of death?" JJ questioned.

"A quarter past midnight." Garcia clicked on her device before another detailed picture of the scene was zoomed in on the screen. "And this was found—no, carved on his back."

The picture had a clear shot of the wound on the victim's back, a sloppy carved-out handwriting slashed across his skin. Spencer narrowed his eyes. "Exodus 20:13," he read, his brain already discerning the meaning of the words. "Thou shalt not kill."

"Quite ironic, don't you think? Given the way the Unsub just brutally acted out his assault," Prentiss wondered out loud.

"The verse might actually tie with the murder into this god-given right for someone to bear arms. The Unsub probably feels justified in murdering the victim because he feels that this man is a sinner, thus he must kill him in the name of the Almighty."

"So, what? Are we looking for a religious vigilante?"

"That's what we're trying to find out." Hotch looked over his team and assigned everyone their work. "Since the crime scene is a mere hour away, Morgan can investigate the crime scene with JJ. Reid, go with Rossi to check the autopsy report. Prentiss and I will be here for his family as they're flying straight from Michigan."

"What can I do to help, sir?"

Hotch gave Garcia a pointed look. "Find everything you can on Kevin Marshall. Bank accounts, purchase records, extended family, and also the people he worked with. Report to me when you find something suspicious. Anything."

"Right." She nodded. "Anything."

"And find any possible matches from old cases that have anything to do with carving on body parts. Solved or unsolved."

"Carving on body parts. Got it."

Everyone started scattering around the room, ready to start the investigation. And although his mind somehow drifted back to soft lips and the scent of sweet chocolate, Spencer pushed them away, gulping the last drip of the sweetest coffee he had ever made as if he was draining down all these inappropriate images running through his mind.

It was not the time.

>> NEXT PART

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