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daydreaming-in-letters · 10 months

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Apricity

07/12/2023

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,733

Warnings: rpf, language, alcohol, heartbreak, pining, fluff

Summary: After a painful breakup, Andrew needs the comfort of his best friend.

A/N: I'm going to church tonight, and I brought an offering for the god(s). Hope you like it.

Picture by Daniel Goodman via Business Insider

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

“Last orders.”

The booming voice rolled through the thick, hot air like thunder. It was a wonder they could hear it at all above the music and buzz of voices, she thought, but the bearded man behind the counter looked like the type who knew exactly how to make himself heard. Andrew on the other hand was not a man who raised his voice in conversation regularly, still she shivered when instead she suddenly felt his hot breath waft through her hair.

“Shall we take another?”

But he was gone before she could even turn to face him, let alone process his words and form a coherent answer.

“Oh, so no to that,” he misconstrued the confusion on her face as their eyes finally met. “You could have just said so, you know. No need to pull a face like that.”

“What face?”

“You know, the one where your eyebrows knit together just a tiny bit and the corners of your mouth fall a little.”

He tried to mimic her expression and whether he had intended to or not, he made her laugh. And as if that wasn’t enough already, he smiled along, that crooked half-smile of his, almost as if he was surprised anything he did could genuinely amuse her.

“Andrew, that’s just my usual face. It doesn’t mean anything. Although…”

“Ah, see. Not just your usual face after all then. You can’t fool me, you should have realised that by now. I don’t know why you still keep trying though.”

The slight curl of his lips reappeared for a moment, making him look so very proud of himself. And, for the first time this evening, almost a little happy. Now who was she to take that away from him by telling the truth: that she had been fooling him about her true feelings for months, maybe even years, and very successfully so, it seemed.

“You’re a grown-up, Andrew. Have a drink if you want another. But—”

The last word had earned her a very dramatic roll of his eyes.

“I knew there was a ‘but’.”

“Yes, Freud, we know, you can look through me like glass, anticipating my every move.”

He chuckled. “Finally you see reason, woman.”

“But seriously,” she could see another remark form behind his mischievous eyes, so she was quick to make her point, “is that wise? Another drink will only make you sadder than you already are.”

“Sad? I’m not sad. I’m angry. Fucking furious to be precise.”

Mostly with himself, she assumed. In all this time she had known him, he had never held a grudge against anyone for long, if at all. But it wasn’t as easy for him to forgive himself at times. Still, anger was progress.

“Good.” Softly she squeezed his hand and waited until the tension of his sudden outburst slowly subsided. “That’s good. You’re moving into the next phase then.”

He mumbled something under his breath, the sentence impossible to understand against the bustle of the pub. The only word she could identify was “Freud”, enough to help her understand that it had just been another of his sassy retorts. His next words came clearer though.

“If that really is a good thing, why can I hear concern in your voice?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think you would recover from her so soon.”

Andrew had not told her what exactly had passed between them and she didn’t want to pry. She only knew that they had argued, and that his girlfr—ex-girlfriend—had given him an ultimatum of some sort. Whatever it had been about, he obviously hadn’t decided in the woman’s favour.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Before she was able to stop herself, she could feel her brow rise, reminding him that they both knew he wasn’t the type that skipped through relationships. The final decision had been made a mere five days ago, a rather short time in her opinion to move into the phase of anger. But Andrew wasn’t her and for all she knew whatever it was that had led to the sudden end of this relationship might have given him reason in abundance to be infuriated.

“Come on, I only knew her for what? About half a year? It’s not as if she was…” For a brief moment he paused, his eyes resting on her while he tried to swallow the words that had already been forming on his tongue. But it was too late and when he finally continued, his voice was softer than it had been all evening, almost fragile. “…the love of my life.”

Eagerly he gulped down the remains of his drink as if to clean his mouth from its last statement before the glass hit the counter with an audible clink.

“You’re right though. I probably shouldn’t have another one of these. Better call it a night.”

He didn’t even wait for her response, long fingers already busy stuffing his lush bun underneath a grey beanie. She had just slipped into her jacket when he already turned to lead the way. It would be easy to get to the entrance with him in the lead, his tall form parting the crowd effortlessly for them. But he didn’t seem quite as confident in the impact of his height as he hesitated for a moment. She had no idea why, not until she could suddenly feel the warmth of his hand closing around her own. His action startled her, only for a brief second, while her brain was trying to recall a thousand memories at once just to make sure she wasn’t mistaken in thinking that he had never done this before. He hadn’t. Still it felt normal. Easy. Everything was always easy with him. Conversations, silence, laughing, crying — it was all easy. Effortless and comfortable. Natural.

It wasn’t long though before they were met with the cold night air. It hit her hard, almost making her take a step back as, with the first inhale of fresh air, it invaded her lungs. Still it was nothing, an irrelevant fact, drowned out against the much harsher sensation of his hand gliding out of hers.

He didn’t even need to fully raise the hand that had been hers for a blink of time to make the taxi hold in front of them. But it was enough for the icy air to crawl underneath her clothes and wrap around her in a tight grip. Not even his sweet gesture of holding the door for her combined with the warmth that streamed towards her from inside the cabin could keep her from shaking violently.

And it didn’t stop. Not when the door closed, not when his body pressed against hers in the limited space of the back seat. She was almost convinced that nothing would ever stop this chill, when suddenly his voice filled the silence to state the obvious.

“You’re shivering. Come here.”

And then his arm was there, invading the unclaimed territory of her neck and shoulders to pull her close. It may have been the spirits inside her system, making her needy and weak to his touch. Whatever it was, she didn’t care as she sank deeper and deeper into the unmatched heat that seeped freely from him, directly underneath her skin. She could feel his chest rising and falling so evenly, as if her closeness meant nothing, as if this was the normal way to be. It was infectious, hypnotising her into a state of untainted drowsiness, one last thought remaining on her mind. This was it, not just the normal way to be, the only way to be. Even more so as his lips pressed to her hair, a gesture so tender it made her heart flutter, and she knew that she would never recover from this moment, however insignificant it was to him.

“I don’t think I told you, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

His words were mumbled against the crown of her head, almost inaudible above the noise of the car and the blaring music from the radio, but she had heard them and would cherish them forever, sealed inside her heart until her last breath.

For most, they would be the bare minimum after crossing an ocean in a hurry simply because she had known something was off. She always knew, from the fatigued tone of his voice to the slight change of colour in his eyes, from the way he had to force his smile, never quite reaching the full infectious gleam it usually held, his mind anywhere but with her while his fingers kneaded the palm of his hand in discomfort.

She also knew that it had probably been an overreaction, but she would do a lot more for him than spend her last savings on a transatlantic flight and an overpriced Airbnb, for him, she would walk all the way through the eternal fires of hell and back if that was what it took to make him whole again. He probably wouldn’t do the same for her, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t expect him to, that was not the way love worked.

“Well, first and foremost I came here to whup that woman’s ass for treating you like...well, the way she did. Comforting you was just second on my list.”

Stirred by a deep chuckle, his hot breath wafted through her hair for the second time this night. It was addictive, and dangerous, because it made her want to cuddle in deeper until it was too late to let go. And right now, just for a second, she allowed herself to hope that he might actually let her. Later this night, she promised herself, she would forget all about it. Forget about the soothing warmth he gave her and the light his presence brought to her life, always. It would be hard to erase the memory of a love that had never been and never would, even more so in the cold of an unfamiliar bed, reminding her mercilessly that she was just another foreigner in a city of millions of strangers. In a world where no one truly knew her but one. And even he didn’t know the one thing she so desperately wanted him to know, yet feared to tell him the most.

“We both know that’s not true.” For a second she held her breath, stupidly fearing he had been listening in on her thoughts. “You couldn’t even hurt a fly.”

Technically, he was right, she silently agreed with him while she relaxed in his arms again. But this was about him. And seeing him like this, this gentle, loving, warm soul, defeated by the betrayal of someone he had given his whole heart to—even if he denied that now… To her, that was reason enough for far more than just a firm ass-whupping.

Maybe she should finally listen to the nagging voice inside her head and tell him just that. It seemed simple enough, a few words spoken from the heart and it would at last be out of her system. After month and month of silence it would be out in the open, released from her heart and yet vague enough for him to take it one way or the other. Like a spectator from the outside she felt herself move to leave his embrace, but before she even had the chance to open her mouth, he beat her to it. A strained groan fell from his lips, eyes rolling heavily in their sockets and she thought she might have missed the moment in which she had already made her confession without even noticing, when she realised his agitation had nothing to do with her at all.

“Oh, come on. Of all the songs…”

Instant relief washed over her, causing a rush to the head that made her feel a little lightheaded. Enough for a cheeky grin to curl her lips.

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t even think about—” he warned, but too late.

“Go on now, go, walk out the door, just turn around now ‘cause you’re not welcome anymore��”

Her voice sounded all croaky and flat and she gave it her all to make it sound even worse. Knowing her absolute lack of talent, she usually avoided singing in public, and it had only ever happened on a handful of occasions, when the alcohol had made her indifferent to the physical pain she caused her poor audience. Andrew had always teased her relentlessly afterwards, but she knew all too well that he found it endearing and very amusing. He couldn’t deny that now, although his furrowed brows might give a different impression, but it didn’t take long until he accepted his defeat and the sweetest of smiles spread on his lips. And after leaving her hanging for another few lines, he joined in.

“I used to cry, but now I hold my head up high and you see me, somebody new, I'm not that chained-up little person still in love with you. And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free. Well, now I'm saving all my lovin' for someone who's loving me…”

They were both belting at the top of their lungs, all the way through the song, and when it finally ended, they fell back into their seats, giggling and panting violently as if they had just finished running a marathon. She was still holding her belly, completely wrapped up in their little cocoon of pure joy when she realised that something was off. She hadn’t noticed at first, but the taxi had come to a stop. It was hard to tell how long it had been standing in front of the red brick row house already, but if the driver’s face was anything to go by, it might have been quite a moment since their arrival.

He cleared his throat while he held her gaze in the mirror and Andrew’s laughter died away as well. She hated the cabby a little for taking this moment away from her friend and threw him a dirty look. Andy deserved being happy, so much, if only for the length of one single song. Careful to soften her gaze, she turned to look at him.

“Well, I guess this is me then.”

His answer was nothing but a tight lipped smile that left her with a thousand different options of interpretation. She was still trying to work out its meaning when for the second time this night, he took her completely by surprise.

It wasn’t the fact that he reached out for her to pull her in for a hug that startled her, he always did that before they said goodbye, but the way his embrace felt just a little tighter, his familiar scent more intoxicating than usual and the wool of his coat that suited him so exceptionally well unbelievably soft underneath her fingertips. In a mere moment he invaded her whole being, flowing through her freely until she could hear her soul hum in the silence that surrounded them.

It felt unholy to pull away, the sacrilege petrifying her in her seat, leaving her with no option but to stare at him. She had almost forgotten how beautiful his eyes were. That lush, mossy green, flecked with warm, earthy shades, she wanted to dive into them, and never return.

And there it was again, that one feeling she only ever had when she was with him. It was hard to pin down, it was not as if she was not complete without him. She was. But she had spent her whole life trying to fit in and with him, she didn’t have to. It just came naturally.

For a tiny moment, it seemed as if he was moving closer again. She noticed his eyes fall to her lips, or maybe she had imagined it. Either way, she couldn’t help herself from doing the same, watching the pink pillows open the slightest bit, a sigh waiting to fall, or a word, but it never came. Instead, a dog barked somewhere nearby and the moment was gone.

When she looked up, it was unmistakeable that the sadness had returned to his eyes as well. She hated it, hated every second they didn’t shine as brightly as they usually did. She missed the excitement they used to hold, the warmth and kindness they radiated from beneath his long lashes. And her heart broke for him all over again.

A soothing smile on her lips, the palm of her hand cupped his bearded cheek. She wanted to tell him that even if everyone were to abandon him, she would always be there. The words were forming in her mind so clearly, all she had to do was open her mouth and deliver them, but instead she heard herself say, “There is someone out there for you, Andrew. I’m sure of it.”

He returned her smile, faintly, but it was definitely there and it didn’t leave even as he turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand.

“Good night.”

“Night, love. I’ll call you in the morning.”

She nodded, and then she was gone. Andrew moved over to the spot where she had been sitting to watch her walking up the stairs. One hand pressed against the leather of the seat, he felt her warmth that still remained, felt his skin soaking it up to let it warm him from the inside.

She had always possessed this power, to warm him up and thaw his heart, even though he had thought that this time it had frozen for good. But the second he had taken her hand in that pub—whatever had driven him to do so—he had known that all would be well eventually. It had been so right, so natural, to feel her like that, if only he would be brave enough to tell her. But he could never, not as long as there was even the slightest possibility she didn’t feel the same. Because more than loving her in secret, it would hurt to lose her forever. He would rather have her as a friend than not at all because for him, there was no life without her.

There was no way he would ever tell her, but it was this exact truth that had ended his last relationship. Faced with the choice between her and anyone else in this world, it would always be her. No matter what. There had never been the tiniest chance he could have decided otherwise.

And now he was surer than ever that he had made the right choice. Maybe this night had made him delirious, he still couldn’t tell. She had been so close, filling first his senses and then his mind with nothing but her until he had let himself believe that this could really be it. His life as it was supposed to be. For a second he had even imagined that she was leaning in, that she wanted to kiss him just as badly as he wanted to seal her lips with his.

But even if she had, it was probably only pity speaking. Or worse, she might have thought that he needed a cheap substitute to drown his pain. And nothing could be further from the truth. He had almost been thankful for the bark that had interrupted them, without it he would never have found the strength to pull away and return her abrupt goodbye. Still, it was better this way. By morning he would have forced himself to forget about everything that could have been tonight, he would call her as he had promised and pretend that she didn’t hold his heart. It had always been like that. And it always would be.

She had almost made it to the door by now. Her steps already slowing while she was fumbling for the keys in her bag. He didn’t know how hard it was for her to hurdle the remaining distance between herself and the door. Especially with all the tears clouding her gaze. She had felt them coming even before the taxi door had closed behind her. And so she hadn’t looked back, afraid he might see. And now that she had almost made it, she couldn’t even find those bloody keys in her stupid bag.

It seemed like a miracle when she finally closed her hand around the cold metal to bring it to the dim light of the streetlamps. But her triumph had been too hasty, the keys gliding out of her slippery fingers and shattering onto the ground with an ugly clattering noise.

The frustration set loose more tears, forcing her to fish around blindly for them and when she had finally managed to find them, she fumbled around equally clumsily to find the keyhole. Her only solace was that she had heard the taxi pull away while she had been hunching on the ground, so at least nobody had seen. He hadn’t seen.

“You know, I was wondering,” she jolted upon the unexpected voice, her keys hitting the ground once more as she turned around in a hurry to find him right in front of herself. “When you said someone— Are you crying?”

“No,” she promptly replied, but it was useless to deny the obvious, she realised, as her croaky voice sounded through the silence, fresh tears still burning hot on her cheeks. And Andrew being Andrew, he didn’t hesitate. In the blink of an eye he was there, gentle hands cupping her face and wiping away the salty streams.

“Why are you crying, love?”

She didn’t answer, her throat sealed by a lump of fear. If she answered truthfully now, she would lose him. And she couldn’t, she mustn’t.

But he knew anyway. It was obvious from the way his forehead wrinkled and his eyes softened upon the realisation. She hadn’t expected the crooked smile though that slowly began to grace his lips.

“I see.”

His lips were even softer than she could have ever imagined, moving so tenderly with hers. And even though this was happening so fast that she didn’t know if she was awake or dreaming, she felt herself relax in his arms. Letting go of all her worries was suddenly so easy. Everything was easy with him.

#hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier #hozier imagine #hozier rpf #hozier fanfic #hozier fanfiction #apricity

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ghost-proofbaby · 7 months

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SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER FOUR: CASTLES CRUMBLING

AND HERE I SIT ALONE, BEHIND WALLS OF REGRET. FALLING DOWN LIKE PROMISES I NEVER KEPT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, mentions of RUMORS of workplace sex scandal, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.4K+

☆ A/N: if you would like to listen to the song that eddie is recording at the end - it is an actual, real life song. :-) it is called "blood sport" by sleep token (one of my favorite bands i get to see live next week!!), and i highly recommend listening to it during your reading. especially the latter half of this chapter.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Alright, so – anyone care to fill me in on what the Hell that was?”

Matt stands like a disapproving father figure as the band lines up opposite of him just outside the building. Eddie had hoped nothing would be mentioned until they were in the car, but the driver was clearly running a few minutes late.

Three of the boys glance at each other, worried expressions immediately giving up the hoax even as Eddie only shrugs and says, “What do you mean?”

“Cut the shit, Munson,” Matt had never appeared so livid, so undone by irritation. His usual patience with Eddie is nonexistent, “What’s going on between you and that girl? Is she a past groupie?”

The insinuation gets a scoff out of Gareth. Jeff side-eyes him in warning, but Eddie couldn’t care less, “No, she’s not a past groupie. This was the first time I’d ever-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Matt points an accusatory finger at Eddie, narrowing his eyes, “I am your manager. If you have any unsavory connections with that girl, I need to know so I can decide if we need someone else to organize the event. We are not having another repeat of the Lewinsky scandal.”

“I knew it! I fucking knew you called it that, too!” Gareth cheers, but he’s quieted by one look from their furious manager.

The Lewinsky scandal had been their code-word for when the tabloids had become convinced that Eddie was fucking an assistant at the label. A girl had even come forward and claimed to have had sexual relations with Eddie, and he had taken heat for it for a full month before the buzzing novelty worn off.

Eddie had only spoken three words to the girl. No, thank you when she’d offered him a mug of coffee during a late night at the studio. He wishes now he’d been less polite.

And he also finds himself wishing that’s all this was. He wishes you were just another scandal, another terrible rumor spread around. If all the accusations between you two were false, if all the hatred was based on misconstrued circumstances, it would be so much easier. He can talk himself out of that. He can confess to those sins and get off with no more than the order of one hail mary from Matt.

But you? The reality of all that had happened, both all those years ago and just thirty minutes ago? He can’t find the words. They choke him up, unwilling to leave the cavern of his chest and enter the world, just like all the songs gathering dust as demos.

“It’s not going to be another Lewinsky scandal,” Eddie scowls, feet shuffling against the concrete below him. Can’t be another Lewinsky scandal if she wants nothing to do with me anymore, “Maybe she just doesn’t like me. I am allegedly a very polarizing public figu-”

The car pulls up, and Matt is quick to grab Eddie’s shoulder before glaring at the boys, “Get in, I’m not finished with our polarizing public figure yet.”

Grant and Gareth only let out low whistles, following instruction without lingering as they clamber into the back row of seats in the SUV. Jeff takes his time, though, going as far to pause beside Eddie and place a hand on his back.

“Just tell him the truth, Eds.”

It’s the final nail in his coffin. Eddie is cursing Jeff’s retreating figure as he climbs into the vehicle and shuts the door, leaving him alone with Matt.

“Explain,” Matt demands, “Now.”

Eddie’s eyes focus on a gaping crack in the sidewalk, jagged and uneven, right down the center.

He has two options. He could continue to lie, insist he knows nothing about you until Matt just gets bored of not being offered the truth. Or he could admit it all, reveal the muse behind the art he had been fiercely protecting over these last few months. Every line, every chord, every broken note that had left his lungs during those witching hours in the studio.

On one hand, it’ll rip away the opportunity that has been offered to him on a silver platter – the opportunity for closure. Selfish, bloody closure that neither of you had gotten, it seemed. But on the other hand, it might grant him some sympathy. Matt, the label, the producers – they had all grown tired of the dance Eddie led them in every time they’d inquire about the music. But if Matt knew-

It’s a dead end trail of thought. He knows he won’t admit to the worst of his atrocities he’s committed. No scandal, no late night ending with him in handcuffs, no fraudulent headline is going to compare to what he did to you. What you did to him.

It’s a little too late for damage control, anyways.

“I went to high school with her,” the lie works well enough, easing some of Matt’s frustration, “I was just shocked to see her. All of us were shocked to see her. No big deal.”

Eddie knows the people around him have come to learn that they must pick and choose the battles they engage in with him. And he can see that decision flash across Matt’s face as he decides that this is not a battle necessary to the war.

“Alright. But if you’re lying to me-“

“I’m not lying.”

“If you are, that’ll be one of my last straws, Munson.”

It won’t be. Eddie knows it won’t be. Everyone, every single goddamn person in this world it seems, is capable of giving Eddie Munson unlimited chances — except you. You, it seemed, were the only person who had come to their senses.

You always were smarter than people gave you credit for.

—

“Run the track again.”

They’d spent a few hours in the studio already. It was an odd hour for them to be haunting the space, more used to visiting in the dead of night rather than the middle of a weekday, but it was down to the wire now. Vocals needed to be recorded, instrumentals fine-tuned, tracks properly mastered. Eddie could no longer hide in the night when it came to recording the haunting melodies stained with the blood of his past — no matter how wrong it felt to see a sliver of sunlight breaking through one of the windows, just through the top of the blackout curtains.

“I really think that was the one, man-“ the producer starts, probably just tired after repeatedly running in circles with Eddie’s perfectionism.

He doesn’t care. He’s paying them, they can stand to let him re-record as many times as necessary to satisfy Eddie, “Run it again.”

The silence only continues to buzz in Eddie’s headphones. He’s ready to cuss out the producer as he angrily shoves them down, off his ears and hanging loosely around his neck, the wire a leash as he whips to face the one-way glass wall. The lights are off at the main board, guaranteeing that they can see Eddie but Eddie can’t see them.

Until suddenly, the light comes back on, and the reason for the absence of the repeated track Eddie had requested becomes obvious.

Gareth.

He stands at the center of it all, a few paces from the seated producer with a deep scowl on his face.

“What the fuck?” Eddie says, mouth just close enough to the mic for them to catch his overflowing annoyance, “I said-“

“We heard what you said, Eddie,” Gareth interrupts, his voice just loud enough to be faintly heard even as the headphones curl around the nape of Eddie’s neck, “But I need to talk to you.”

It’s the strictest tone that Gareth has used on their lead singer in an unfathomably measure of time. Probably because it’s the most words he’s said to Eddie in a very long time, as well.

Eddie finally removes the headphones, hanging them carelessly on the mic stand and moving towards the door — surprisingly, without putting up a resistance.

The control room is warmer than the fairly large area that served as a ‘booth’. Smaller, as well. Cramped with a low couch and one too many chairs available to trip over, the control board spanses the entire wall that holds the oversized window into the recording room. A plethora of small lights twinkle like stars, and numerous switches that Eddie had come to know better than the back of his hand alternate positions to guarantee the clearest sound. Only Gareth and the producer occupy the room, the rest of the band having taken off around the fifth time Eddie had requested a redo of his vocal tracking.

“This better be good,” Eddie complains, furrowing his brows, agitated at the interruption.

But Gareth shows no remorse, “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“We need to talk,” Gareth repeats, eyes flickering to the poor soul still seated at the controls, “Alone.”

Eddie hardly has to open his mouth, the man jumping out of his seat the moment the lead singer flicks his wrist to signal for him to leave.

Whatever Gareth was about to say had to be important, and it’s that thought rather than the difference in temperatures that has sweat building on Eddie’s brows.

Is he about to quit the band? Is he about to tell me he’s had enough? Maybe he’s done with my bullshit — I would be.

“Speak, Emerson,” Eddie flatly insists, grabbing a small water bottle out of one of the mini fridges in the room before he throws himself onto the worn leather of the couch, “And make it quick. We’re on a time limit, you kno-“

“We’ve gotta talk about her, man.”

Her as in you.

For a moment, Gareth sounds like a friend again. He’s dropped all the persistent perturbation he’s taken to defending himself with when it comes to Eddie, his voice pleading as he stands before the distant man. All the rueful power plays that had developed over the last year vanish. It’s just Eddie and Gareth, bandmates who started out in the latter’s garage in some small Indiana town. Not Eddie Munson, infamous rockstar with a chip on his shoulder. Not Gareth Emerson, passionate drummer overshadowed by the ego of his lead singer. Just Eddie and Gareth.

“We all know you didn’t tell Matt the truth.”

“I did tell him the truth-“

“Not the whole truth, then. There’s no way he’d let it slide if he knew that she was your ex-girlfriend.”

The defiance vacates Eddie’s body quickly. He doesn’t even attempt to prowl his mind for a quick quip in response. All he does at the words is drop his shoulders, the defeat creeping up on him as he deflates.

Ex-girlfriend. The title feels so pitiful to truly describe what you were to him.

But to be fair, even when he had been in your good graces, girlfriend had also never felt significant enough.

“Did-“ Gareth starts after a beat of silence, noting the way Eddie couldn’t quite hide his wounds on the topic, “What did you guys talk about? When you went after her, what did she say?”

“Nothing important.”

Eddie turns into a shell, a zombie as he stares straight ahead and tries to compartmentalize. That always worked; with meetings, with arguments, with lectures. Even before the fame, it worked.

It doesn’t work quite as quickly when it comes to you. His brain, it seems, is incapable of uncrossing all the wires you twist within his brain.

“You two were alone for, what, ten minutes? And you’re telling me she didn’t say anything important?”

“What the fuck is there to say?” Eddie laughs soullessly, “Oh, hey, stranger! Remember me? The guy you up and left without a word?”

“Yes!” Gareth shouts unexpectedly, “Yes, that’s exactly what you should have done! She left. Not just you, but all of us. We never even really knew why. And now- what? Are we just supposed to pretend we don’t know her?”

Eddie knew why. She’d never had to say it, and that was the issue. He always thought about all the answers he swore he craved, and always let every question he claimed to have haunt him during the waking hours. But when the day turned to night, when he was left to nothing but his own devices in a dark and empty apartment during the witching hours, he knew. The question of why had been answered since the first phone call cut short with you during that goddamn tour.

The songs knew, too. He supposes it had been an arrogant assumption to believe the band had read into his lyrics and put the pieces together.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Eddie nearly whispers, throat tightening and fighting him on the words. It’s the opposite of what he wants and needs — but it’s what you want and what you need. And so he plays the messenger, even as it kills him, “We are going to completely disregard my past with her. We are going to treat this entire situation as professionally as possible. I’m talking the full nine yards: you will not mention the fact that we know her, you will not question her about anything from the past, and you will not, under any circumstances, ask her why.”

His own set of rules he’d privately set for himself in his own mind during the car ride over.

Gareth squints his eyes in disbelief, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are you serious?”

“Deathly so.”

“This isn’t just about your past with her,” the boy nearly passes, starts to reach up to tug on his hair before he thinks better of it, “This is about the way she left all of us. Not just you. She was a friend to all of us. She was the one who taught me how to tape my drums when I’d bust a hole in them, she was the one who helped us design our first merch, she was the only person any of us would let be in the room during practices. And not just the band stuff, either,” Eddie watches tears form in Gareth’s eyes, “She was the only one who had the patience to help me with my fucking math homework back in school, man. She was the one who nearly curb stomped Jason Carver the week he sent Grant home with a black eye. She was the first person Jeff called when his parents broke news of their divorce, for fucks sake. Not me, not you, not any of us — her,” Gareth’s breaths come out as pants as he stops his pacing and stands before Eddie. The tears continue to lace his bottom lash line as he heaved silently at the end of his rant, his pained expression completely unexpected to Eddie.

This is the part Eddie chooses to forget. He’ll let himself swim in the memory of you late at night, he’ll indulge in vices that always amplify his pain rather than succeeding in his attempt to numb it, he’ll stare down the mirror each morning and curse the reflection he finds with all the blame in the world he is capable of holding in the palms of his hands. But in all the ruptures of his own old scars, he fails to consider that he is not the only one burdened with loss.

They all lost you. When Eddie lost you, so did the band. You’d become a ghost to more than just your abandoned lover — you’d become a tired haunt to boys you’d known, boys you’d befriended and burrowed your way into the lives of, just as well.

“She was our friend,” Gareth chokes out, fists curling at his sides, “Jesus Christ, I- I get it. She was everything to you. Whatever. But she meant a lot to the rest of us, too. Whatever happened wasn’t just some isolated event — you two didn’t just hurt each other. You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that.”

This is the part where Eddie should apologize. This is the part where, once upon a blissful time, he would have said his repentance.

He doesn’t.

“I don’t care how hurt anyone is,” he lowly responds, eyes unable to meet Gareth’s any longer, “I’ve told you the rules, we’re going to follow them. End of discussion.”

Gareth throws back his head, and Eddie winces at his scoff, “She’s not your fucking property, Eddie! She isn’t solely yours to keep or whatever the fuck you think you’re doing!”

Eddie can’t even deny the action of keeping you. All the demos, all the songs laid to the grave because he couldn’t stomach the thought of releasing them for others to experience.

But that’s not what this was. This, the cataclysm that was sending Gareth to finally release all this pent up frustration, was him following your rules. You’d made your wishes for this project very clear, and he needed to at least try to respect them. They all did.

So he takes on the role of the bad guy. He lets them paint him as the villain if it means no red will stain your ledger.

“Oh, I think she’s made it very clear that she isn’t mine,” the mask slips on far too easily for Eddie. Cool demeanor, compartmentalizing. Not you, but his emotions towards his friends, if he could even still call them that. His bandmates that he had once seen as brothers. “Doesn’t change what I said. Don’t push it, Emerson, or there’ll be Hell to pay.”

“What are you going to do? Disappear on us?” Eddie finally looks back up to meet Gareth’s fiery gaze as he spits out hateful words, “Hate to break it to you, but you already left this band behind two years ago. And if you ask me, you should start leaving the vanishing act to her. At least she doesn’t make us pay for her mistakes.”

Eddie is by no means done with the conversation, more than willing to continue fighting with Gareth, but the other boy clearly feels differently. He leaves his words hanging in the air as he spins away, storming out of the door, the air in the studio now several degrees hotter now with the irate fuel of the fight.

It was all a blood sport. All of it. It didn’t matter if Eddie was fighting with the band, the management, with you. It was all bloody and fruitless, and it all left him the same awful type of hollow in the end.

He stares blankly at the wall as he makes a silent decision.

By the time the producer has timidly returned to the room, Eddie has already set up his laptop to connect to the studio's system, prepped so that any recording would automatically copy into his personal hard drive. A way for him to listen and ruminate in the privacy of his own apartment.

The sheet music torn from his notebook already lays at the table besides the entrance to the booth.

“Do you… want to run the track again?” the man, the stranger, asks. He clearly heard the fight. Eddie and Gareth hadn’t been exactly quiet in their screaming match. At least, Gareth hadn’t been.

Is it really a screaming match if only one side fights back?

“I want to lay a new track,” Eddie’s voice is deadpan as he clicks a few buttons, finalizing everything. He only needs the man to click record, “A raw piano and vocal demo. We can add the rest of the band later.”

“I-“

One look from Eddie, hardly passed over his shoulder with a glimmer of unbridled determination, and the man quiets as he takes his seat.

Eddie storms into the booth without another word, fist curled around the page of lyrics and terribly hand-drawn music clefts.

She isn’t yours to keep.

Eddie was aware of that. Painfully, painfully aware. But it had never been about his claim to you.

Gareth was right. Eddie never wanted to own you. Keeping you, however, had been something he should have taken more care with.

The chill of the small room to record in does little to lessen the flames eating Eddie up as he bypasses the assembly of various instruments all crowded in the space. Gareth’s drum set, Jeff’s guitar, Grant’s bass — he storms right past them, eyes locked on the grand piano in the fair corner. It took up the most space, far too large to have been forced to be contained within this compact room.

Eddie drags the mic from where it had been stationed previously with him, quickly and recklessly resetting it at the piano.

Once he’s seated on the bench, crumpled pages thrown up onto the music desk of the piano and headphones snug over his ears again, the producer finally clicks on his mic to speak.

“Hey, uh… Does this demo have a name by chance? Or do you just want to label it as an unknown for now?”

It certainly does have a name.

“Blood Sport,” Eddie spits out. “Just name the file Blood Sport.”

The hum that would indicate to Eddie when those on the other side of that glass window were speaking clicks off, and he takes it as his cue.

He’d written the song a while before. There were some gaps in the lyrics, some notes he’d played with on his personal piano scribbled over and never replaced. He’d never played it in its entirety before.

It starts slow. His fingers hold the ivory keys delicately, arranging for the first opening notes as if he were slotting his knuckles against your own for the first time over again.

She isn’t yours to solely keep.

Were you ever his to keep, ever?

Even the ivory keys of the Steinway are more solid than you ever were. You were nothing more than water, than blood, destined to slip between Eddie’s fingers. He never stood a chance in having you, in holding you, in keeping you.

Not just now, but before all the blood shed, as well. He should have recognized Cassandra’s curse the first day he looked into your eyes. He should have known the twist in his stomach was only Fate sinking its claws into the two of you.

A tale fit for a Shakespearean stage — a tragedy always meant to be.

“I want to roll the numbers, I want to feel my stars align again.”

Eddie’s voice is soft to match the steady beat of piano notes that emit from the crooked curl of his hand against the keys. A soft thump, a gentle lull. And instead of losing himself in the music, he finds himself wrapped up in one of the many memories he’d chosen to lock away for the last two years.

Something was off.

Eddie’s stomach had twisted with anxiety of something being wrong for weeks. You stopped answering his calls, his texts, every form of connection with him. But as he stood in front of the door to your shared apartment, the bile rose even higher in his throat.

He smelt the decay of what he had done before his key had even entered the lock.

“Would you invite me again? Won’t you pay for your arrogance? Won’t you show me your weakness?”

You were never his to keep.

His voice nearly cracks as he approaches the first chorus, not finding the strength behind the vocals he’d always envisioned for the song.

The click of the door opening echoed through the apartment. It felt empty the moment he’d crossed the threshold – you could have just been tucked away in the bedroom, or even in the bathroom, but he knew.

You hadn’t been returning his phone calls. You hadn’t been returning his texts. He knew something had happened, something had changed. Irreversible damage had been done, and he would now have to face the mess he’d created to return home to.

“I made loving you a blood sport.”

He repeats the line until it rings in his head, over and over. Until he swears the words could crack his bones, and the stars that will show in the night sky will do nothing but mock him for the self-inflicted pain.

At first, he convinced himself you just weren’t home. You’d gone to the store or to see friends. You’d be home soon enough and then, the two of you could scream at each other all you wanted. You were angry with him, rightfully so, but he’d rather you yell and scrap with him than the alternative. He didn’t care. Because he was here, back in the flesh and willing to take any and all cruel words you had sharpened for him. The two of you would fight, yes, but at least that meant there was still something there worth fighting for.

After the first three hours, he realized with a sinking stomach that the alternative might just be his reality.

“I want to be forgiven.”

He recalls the look on your face when you’d first seen him today. The fall of your act, the discarding of grace and composure.

The look that told him that he can want all he’s capable of. He can want, he can crave, he can yearn, he can tear himself apart bit by bit with his feeble yet shattering cravings — it won’t change a thing.

You were never his to keep.

After the clock struck the fifth hour of his return, he started his calling.

Over and over and over, he was met with your voicemail. Endless messages spoken and sent alike. Every single one trying to be gentle as they inquired where you were. Letting you know he was back. Going as far as to ask you if the two of you could talk.

He wanted to fight. He wanted to fight, because it meant you still saw something worthy within him.

But even more than Eddie wanted a fight, he wanted you to come home. He wanted you to be there, to welcome him into your safety and remind him he was human again. It was selfish – he was so goddamn selfish – but he needed to feel your skin against his and remind him that he was still a person beneath it all. Beneath the demand, beneath the unwarranted adoration from strangers, beneath all the fractures the sudden traction had left him with – he was still a breathing, living person. He was still your person.

Eddie’s fingers begin to slam against the keys with increasing urgency as his chest heaves out with every syllable. Repeating, and repeating, and repeating the chorus as if it changes a single thing. He loses himself in it all; in the music ringing in his ears and the memories now drowning him as he confesses all his sins to the microphone.

You never came home.

There was no fight, and after the hours reached double digits right along with his ignored phone calls, he had to accept the truth.

You weren’t just at a friend’s, or the store. You were gone. Truly, truly gone.

The drawers once filled with your belongings were vacant. The smell of your perfume was nothing more than a whisper across the pillows. Eddie scoured the entire apartment for signs of you, turning every single piece of furniture over looking for clues. He never thought to check the counter until he’d already ruined the space, terrorizing it in a frenzy before his eyes landed on the letter and the key.

He had approached them both hesitantly. All his denial drained from his body, like the blood pumping through his veins, as his fingers pinched that silver key so gingerly.

A past he can never return to. A home he will never hold the key to again.

The joints of his fingers ache and his lungs begin to burn for all that he lost — all that they all lost — because of him. His own foolishness, his own downfall. He did this.

The aftermath is blurry.

He read the first few words of your letter before promptly crumbling it with his tortured fist, knowing exactly what it said without needing to fully swallow all the words just yet.

He never fully read the letter. He skimmed it, a week later, but not that night.

Then came the flashes of the pain. The way he’d swung his fists at air and menial objects alike. A vase holding wilted carnations met its demise on the kitchen floor, a hole in the wall appeared that he later had to patch up, one of the coffee tables ended up across the living room with a leg splintered half off.

He never dropped the key.

Even as he dropped to his knees in the center of the broken glass, bleeding shins to match his bruising knuckles, he still held that small piece of silver fiercely. He pressed it so tightly, dug it so deeply into his palm that it later left a scar. And not even the way he had grabbed at the broken glass surrounding him had the capability to mar it away as he let it slice his skin, crying out, hopeless and devastated.

You were gone. He had lost you, and he had been arrogant enough to never even notice it.

“You say it doesn’t matter.”

The headphones had long since slipped off his head, and he makes no move to adjust them. He hadn’t even noticed that his body had begun to fall forward and curl into the piano until he’s weakly choking out the final lyric that he hadn’t even written down onto the page.

He hadn’t noticed the tears falling, either.

What were meant to be gasps for air as his fingers fly across the keys in a haunting melody are only sobs. Cries of pain as he no longer can see mere inches ahead of him, a scar of the center of his palm stinging as if brand new, his heart and head pounding in sync. He isn’t even sure if the producer he’s forgotten the name of is still recording. He lets the sobs slip out as he continues to play.

He can’t quite end the song yet. The moment he does, he’s terrified of the version of him that he will have to face once more. All those surface blemishes from the beginning of the end had run deeper beneath his skin. He was nothing more than rubble and fractures now, splintered every which way until he had become unrecognizable. When he looked in the mirror, all he could see was a creature of destruction.

“You set off whatever bomb erased her from our lives, but it left the rest of us with some damage, too. Don’t forget that,” Gareth’s voice echoes in the silence beginning to gather between the notes.

Another wrecked sob leaves Eddie as he finally finishes off the melody, playing entirely unaffected up until that point. Reality crashes down. His body shakes, shoulders hunched as his forehead connects against the freezing wood of the piano and he pinches his eyes shut tightly enough to be left in total blackness.

He couldn’t play another note if his life depended upon it.

The memory fades with the final note before his head rattles with a new image. The smile, the grimace, you had offered him before you two parted ways today. An effort at professionalism that Eddie had seen right through.

Pain. That’s what had twitched in the corners of your mouth. The same pain, if not worse, as the one that now radiated through every atom of Eddie’s broken figure on the piano bench.

He can’t fix it. Not your pain, not Gareth’s pain, not his own pain. The time for damage control, for sincere apologies and any reconciliation has passed. Just like watered-down blood through his fingertips.

Eddie hopes that the producer has had half the mind to stop the recording when he stands and slams the drumset behind him into the wall. Destructive, just as he had been the night he returned to an empty apartment. Just as he had been when he’d been the one to rot and wither away all that you two had once held between you.

They can replace the drum set. Surely, he has a person for that.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n

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#ghost's writing #eddie munson #maroon #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #finally long enough tag lists to separate lol #voila! corroded coffin is sleep token! wahoo!#i recommend everyone listen to the discography of that band #just sayin #(dial tone is the only non sleep token song that is canon here)#i just can't let go of the death grip i have on that song when it comes to this fic #it was either gonna be catch your breath sleep token or bad omens #and sleep token captures the yearning #Spotify

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sstormyskyess · 11 days

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Still Woozy

author's note: i was listening to my still woozy playlist and got the inspo to write some headcanons based on the songs i thought fit the boys! also wanted to write my first piece with alejandro so here it is 👍 [side note: all the songs refer to a woman/fem listener but for the sake of this, the reader is gn!]

cw: nothing, just fluff!

word count: 800+

TF-141 + Alejandro x GN!Reader

Simon “Ghost” Riley [Cooks]

♡ Ghost is a little clueless when it comes to romance and the things that come with it, having been in a toxic home for his younger years. Most of his ideas about romantic relationships come from the very few movies/shows featuring happy couples he’s seen, so his ideas on how to handle a real relationship are scarce and sometimes a bit misconstrued.

♡ But once he finds the one he loves, he’s ready and willing to try his best at figuring things out as he goes. Regardless, he’ll still be fairly lost in the early stages of a relationship.

♡ But don’t get it mistaken—if he’s in a relationship, he’s absolutely head over heels in love, and he’ll do his very best to keep everything working smoothly, even if that means messing up every now and then. He would rather die than hurt you, so be prepared for him to be asking a ton of questions; you may need to reassure him frequently to remind him that just him trying is enough.

John “Soap” MacTavish [Get By]

♡ Soap is a bit of a goofball in a committed romantic relationship, but it’s all for the sake of his partner because he lives to see them happy more than anything else.

♡ He loves to see you happy and practically any time he notices you not feeling your best, he’ll do what he can to bring your spirits up, whether that be taking you out on a nice, fancy date or just staying in and getting you to spare some time for yourself. He has a special place in his mind to remember all of the things that make you smile, like your favorite foods/restaurants and the media you like to engage with.

♡ As referenced in the song, though, he’s made a fool of himself for the sake of cheering you up a few times. It makes you feel bad, but it is quite funny watching him do the silliest things to make you laugh.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick [Get Down]

♡ Gaz is a very dedicated partner and he would do damn near anything for them. He’s made it clear to you on multiple occasions that he can handle pampering you with anything you please, even if you tell him you don’t want to overwork him.

♡ He’s by no means a materialistic person, but he loves to spend his money on you. When he’s on leave, he loves taking you on vacations, big or small. He’ll buy you any little thing you may have your eyes on or have mentioned wanting in the past, because what else will he do with the money he gets from his job? After all, before you came into his life, he was a fairly frugal man, only spending money on what’s really necessary. Now, though, you’re his only real necessity, meaning you get spoiled one way or another.

♡ He also loves it when you get clingy and adores when you’re all over him like your life depends on it. It never gets overbearing for him and he wouldn’t trade the world for your love and attention.

John Price [Wolfcat]

♡ Despite being a rigidly authoritative person outside his home, when Price is alone with his partner in the safety of his own home, he is absolutely whipped. He’s a homebody at heart and he loves filling a domestic role in his intimate relationships.

♡ He’s most certainly a quality time enjoyer and he spends a good amount of time planning little activities for the two of you to engage in while he’s home on leave. He’ll try to mask it as him simply trying to keep himself occupied in place of the strict schedule he’s accustomed to on base, but it’s obvious to anyone that knows him well enough that he’s obsessed with being by your side.

♡ Not to mention, he loves a partner that can put him in his place when needed, since he knows he can be a little headstrong and stubborn. Disagreements turn into arguments, but he knows when to shut up with you because you’re very good at reminding him that he’s not invulnerable to being wrong.

Alejandro Vargas [Habit]

♡ Alejandro is a romantic man even if his work often comes first. But, if he had it his way, he would be spending all his waking moments with his partner. His carefully manufactured distance between his work and family has him feeling insecure about the stability of his relationships, but he always comes back to you, no matter what happens.

♡ He doesn’t fall in love quickly, always wanting to make sure that he’s making a sound decision on who he’s going to lavish with his affections. But he’ll be glued to you once he’s finally comfortable in his choice to settle down with you. He doesn’t do frivolity; everything he does is done with purpose and his love life is no different.

♡ He’ll also put in extra effort for you to have a good support system while he’s away so you never feel lonely, likely with his family. He has plenty of family to go around and he’ll use that to his advantage to keep you comfortable even without him in your presence.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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jaegeraether · 3 months

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Sunsets and footballers (Part 61)

Alexia Putellas x Character (21)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Join our WOSO Discord chat! Link in bio :)

((**2.8k**))

Just a small one tonight! :) I split this chapter.

Alexia POV

Ridley’s jaw was tight, but her face was kind. To anyone, she’d be hospitable – though to Alexia, she was hiding something very well.

Meg looked from Alexia to Ridley and back, realising that something was going on. She took the quick escape option.

“I was just leaving...” Meg muttered and stood.

Alexia was still in a state of shock, but she knew she had to take control of the situation, like she was so used to in football. She needed to show Ridley just how committed she was to being there for her. She stood.

“Meg?”

The physio spun, wide-eyed.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for the past few day. Please send me the… cost.”

Meg hesitated. “You don’t want another session?”

“No, thank you. That was my last.”

She looked a little upset. She thought for a minute or two before taking a step towards the footballer and stopping herself. She looked to Ridley and back, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I crossed the line…”

“No, it is okay. I have not made myself very… understandable the past few day. You’ve help my knee a lot.” She gave her a gentle smile. “Please send me the cost.”

She looked over at Ridley who was watching the exchange interestedly. She looked like she was going to speak; to tell Alexia she didn’t need to push Meg away, but she didn’t when the footballer flashed her a look to say she’d made her decision.

Meg nodded and walked towards the exit where Ridley stood. Alexia watched her pull her hand from her pocket and extend it towards Meg on the way out.

“This should cover it and then some,” she murmured.

Meg hesitantly took the cash and nodded, exiting. She’d kissed Alexia without consent, though it didn’t stop Alexia feeling guilty having led her on the past few days with some light flirting.

Silence hung for a few seconds as Ridley stepped into the room. “Well, it seems you’ve taken my advice.”

“I think she misconstrued…”

“Alexia,” Ridley responded in monotone Spanish, the footballer wincing at the use of her full name so seriously. She missed her nickname. “It’s okay. You can be with who you want – you know that. We don’t owe each other anything.”

Even though she was just repeating their words from the other day, it still hurt Alexia because they both knew they owed each other something.

She knew she shouldn’t, but she bit back.

“Are you saying that because you feel like it would only be fair after the women you’ve slept with?”

Ridley looked almost distraught. This wasn’t the way either of them wanted this to go. She stepped forwards.

“No, Alexia. I just want you to be happy. You deserve that.”

Alexia stepped forward also, her head now having to look up slightly. “And those friends with benefits make you happy, do they?” She asked huskily with emotion. “Do they fill that void left by you not able to get me out of your head?”

Ridley’s eyes flashed at her audacity. Alexia could tell she couldn’t deny it and had never had she been so called out like that before. She stepped forwards until they were almost touching. Alexia could feel Ridley’s gaze on her hazel eyes. Sharp jaw. Soft lips. Strong nose. And then the frustration was gone and Ridley reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “They’re not you.”

Whatever Alexia expected, it wasn’t that. That was as close to an admission of feelings she’d gotten thus far. Her own frustrations sidled away, especially as she realised she’d just done the opposite of what Blau said.

Ridley continued. “Besides; who do you think they looked like?”

Alexia thought back to that night she’d touched her. The woman on the bed… her hair was dyed blonde. And she did… look like Alexia.

She inhaled sharply, stunned. Her eyes moved to her lips and back. “I’m right here…” Alexia said like Blau had suggested. She saw something flash behind Ridley’s eyes for a moment. Blau was right. She just needed to know she was there to stay; that she could rely on her.

Alexia reached out and smoothed the lapel of her button up, her thumb tracing over her neck as she almost whispered in Spanish. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ridley was incredible at hiding her emotions, though little things gave her away like the jump in her pulse that Alexia could feel under her thumb when she reassured her. She caught her eye. “I’m right here…”

Even though Ridley’s eyes were dark, Alexia could still see her pupils dilate. Her reassurance hit her, hard.

“I know you are,” Ridley murmured as if she weren’t affected.

Alexia smiled, her palm now flat on her chest, just below her collarbone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ridley’s jaw flexed. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“I’m right here.”

Ridley’s strong expression faltered just the slightest. She closed her eyes. “Stop.”

“You’re not listening to me,” Alexia murmured. Everything she said was gentle and supportive. She took Ridley’s hand in her own and placed it against her chest, right over her heart. “I’m right here.”

Alexia wasn't attempting to break her. She wasn’t arguing about her being distant or having her boundaries up. She just wanted her to know that she could depend on her, as Alexia knew she could on Ridley.

‘Let her pull you into her bubble herself,’ Blau had said.

She released her hand and shuffled that last half a step forward to put her forehead on her shoulder. This was unusual for Alexia as well, as she wasn’t used to being so openly emotional. She exhaled a large breath as her arms went around Ridley’s waist. Ridley stayed still.

“Whatever you need. And that’s my choice… and I hope you can do the same for me… because tonight I could use a friend.”

The Australian’s tension disappeared with those words and perhaps even at the feel of Alexia’s body pressed up against her.

Alexia felt her relax and her arms come around the footballer, her cast hand on her back and the other cradling the back of her head. She felt enveloped, and safe. Everything was Ridley; the soft, the warmth, the spicy musk smell, and the reliable pulse of her heart. Ridley’s cheek touched her hair, and the best Alexia could describe it was that it felt therapeutic.

“I can do that, Lex.” Ridley murmured quietly, her jaw moving against the footballer’s hair.

They stood like that a while, Alexia not pulling away until Ridley lifted her head. She was pleasantly surprised by just how long it had taken her and thought maybe she needed that just as much as she had.

She unwillingly retracted her hands and took a small step back to smile up at her. “How was Switzerland?”

A little smile now played around Ridley’s lips. “I managed to get a little skiing done, but most was work. So, I’d say it was… successful.” Her eyes averted to her leg. “And how is your knee?”

“It’s doing okay. The boxing helped.”

“Ah, Blue said Lucy took you.”

“Mmn. Didn’t you say you’d teach me to fight?”

She smirked. “Would you like to use one of your favours?”

“I don’t think so. I think you want me to be safe and know how to defend myself.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes… so I think I’ll keep my favours for now.”

Ridley rolled her eyes. God, it was attractive.

“I’m really glad you got here earlier…”

“I managed the earlier flight,” she murmured, her eyes back to wandering over the features of Alexia’s face as if memorising her.

“It means we have a few hours before dinner. Do you want to have a swim? Unless your cast…”

“It’s waterproof. And… only if we’re skinny dipping.”

Alexia rolled her eyes and didn’t take the bait – another one of her methods to take some pressure off of ‘pushing’ Ridley.

“Okay, your loss.” She replied as she headed for the door. “Come on Chiquito.”

The little grey cat who had been watching the proceedings was now so used to Alexia that he followed her while Ridley watched; her smirk unable to disappear.

Ridley was already swimming by the time she’d arrived. She was doing laps, of course, because how else could you keep a body looking that good? Alexia set her towel down on the sunbed next to Ridley’s and watched as she exited the pool, pulling herself up in one easy move, even with one working hand.

“La Reina.” She said almost cockily as she wandered to the table to get a drink of water.

Alexia couldn’t help her eyes wandering over Ridley’s body in between her black bikini; her thighs, her ass, her abs, her tits… and even her throat as she swallowed. So many scars. And the tattoos… she wondered what they meant, and where each scar was from. Knowing Ridley, definitely something important. She wanted to ask her, but she didn’t want to push something so personal. Not yet anyways.

“Like what you see?”

Alexia wasn’t embarrassed she’d been caught out. “I do.”

She tilted her head and let herself obviously look the footballer up and down in her white bikini. “Me more.” She moved closer to Alexia and brushed the back of her finger over the strap of her white bikini. Alexia wasn’t able to stop the shiver that ran up her spine. “And you’re lucky I’m in a polite mood. I’m so used to being topless in Spain.”

Alexia reached behind her back, as if to hug her again, instead swiftly pulling on the strings holding her bikini top on. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Ridley gave her an impressed look as she removed the top. Alexia let herself look at her tits, obviously hard in the cool breeze and desperate to be sucked on. Ridley brushed her wet shaggy bob out of her face and stepped further into Alexia’s space and for a second, Alexia almost did fall to temptation of tasting her nipples until Ridley’s fingertips on her lats distracted her. She looked up from her chest as her fingertips slid around her back, leaving a trail of tingles and goosebumps behind.

“Fair is fair.” She tugged on Alexia’s strings and then took a step back, shrugging. “Up to you.”

Ridley was giving her a choice, like she always did. Like she had that night she’d touched her.

Alexia was Spanish, so being topless wasn’t a problem to her at all, and even less so in front of her. She was so… understanding and nonchalant about everything. That confidence was palpable, and it made other people feel the same. She watched as Ridley walked to the edge of the pool and looked down at Chiquito who was dipping his paw in to see if he wanted to swim. Alexia removed her top and took advantage of the opportunity in front of her. She took a few steps forward and shoved Ridley in the back, watching her splash into the pool. She came up quickly.

“Really? We’re going to play that game?” She asked, treading water.

Alexia was chuckling but stopped as the look on her face changed. Suddenly, Ridley was out of the water and Alexia’s flight mode had her running. There was nothing she could do to escape, though. Ridley caught her within a few long strides, and a leap over the sunbed and suddenly, she had Alexia over her shoulder. The footballer protested and slapped her back, though she knew it was in vain.

“Put me down.”

“You started it. Keep trying though, I like a good massage.”

Alexia slapped her again as she walked towards the pool. It did nothing but earn her a loud smack on the ass so hard and unexpected that she yelped. Ridley stopped walking and Alexia tensed.

“Are you going behave?” She asked.

“Never.”

And then she was thrown into the pool.

That hour or so was bliss. It wasn’t nervous tension or shameless flirting, well perhaps a little flirting, though it was mostly just fun. They swam, splashed, and played. The weather was cold, but the water was warm and even more so as they moved around. Chiquito jumped in for a paddle eventually, and only because he was watching them enjoy themselves.

“Is this right?” Alexia asked. She was on Ridley’s back, her legs around her waist, her tits flush against her bare back, and her arm around her neck.

“Yep, just put your other arm here…” she moved her arm onto her shoulder and tucked her choking hand into the inside of her elbow. “Now pull with this arm, and press my head forwards with this one…”

Her instructions were too helpful and she immediately had her oxygen cut off as Alexia choked her until she tapped her arm.

Alexia released and dropped back into the pool so her shoulders were warm again. “Did I do it?”

Ridley turned to her with a bright red neck. “Oh yeah, Lex. Another ten seconds and I would have drowned.” She grabbed her bicep and squeezed. “You’re so strong!”

Alexia pulled her arm away and splashed her. “Don’t mock me.”

Ridley swam close, so close Alexia thought she was going to kiss her. Their lips almost touched as she spoke. “I wouldn’t dare mock you, la Reina.”

And then Alexia was under the water.

Alexia was almost finished getting dressed as it hit 8pm, though she had one concern, and it was that she couldn’t find Ridley. After searching downstairs, she moved upstairs where she found her in the library. Her back was to the door so she could only see her stunning tailored suit from behind and as she came closer, she saw that she was staring at the painting Alexia had been working on the past few days.

“It’s not finished.”

“It’s Chiquito.”

“Yes…”

“It’s… really, really good, Lex.” She reached out and her fingers hovered over the painting. “And the fur? Those lines are so delicate. It must have taken hours.”

She turned to Alexia, her expression wondrous.

“All good things take time.” Alexia murmured.

Ridley smiled at her words and then looked her up and down. “You look… absolutely beautiful.”

“I will once my dress is zipped up. Can you?” Alexia turned and pulled her hair aside. She figured having her hair down may help her a little with the UK cold.

She held her breath as she felt Ridley’s warmth close to her back, and her breath teasing the nape of her neck. The knuckle of her finger traced up her spine as she zipped the dress to the very top. She went to move her hair back and Ridley stopped her gently.

“Do you have a necklace?”

Alexia touched her neck, suddenly feeling a little bare. “No…” she admitted.

“Would you like one?”

There’s that choice again.

“Yes please…”

“I’ll be a minute. Stay put.”

Alexia watched as Ridley disappeared from the room, reappearing moments later with a dark blue velvet box. She stood in front of her and opened it to reveal a thin gold chained necklace with a small pendant in the shape of a sun. She leaned forwards and reached out to touch it, her lips parting in awe. On one side of the sun was a simple engraved smile, eyes closed, and she turned it over to reveal the other side which were tiny diamonds sporadically spread and filling the engravings of stars.

“I thought it would remind you of home,” Ridley murmured as Alexia admired its minimalistic beauty with tears welling. “And, well, it reminded me of you.”

She looked up at those words, her eyes finding Ridley’s. She reminded her of the sun? Her heart squeezed and her question must have been obvious in her eyes because Ridley answered it. “The sun… sunshine. Lightness. Happiness.”

That’s how beautifully she saw her?

Alexia didn’t realise a tear managed to escape until Ridley was cupping the side of her face, her thumb wiping it away.

“When did you get this?” Alexia whispered.

“A while ago.” Was the only answer she gave, her thumb still stroking her cheek even though her tear was gone. “Do you like it?”

Alexia nodded into her hand and smiled at her before she turned and held her hair away from her neck.

She heard the box snap shut and then Ridley’s hand brushing a few strands of loose hair away.

“Would you like the happy or the stars this evening, la Reina?”

“Happiness please,” she replied huskily.

Cool metal touched the oval at the base of her throat and Ridley’s hands brushed against her neck as she expertly clipped shut the clasp.

Ridley moved her hair back with careful hands, ensuring it was perfect before she was in front of her again, smiling down at the necklace and back up to Alexia.

“Happiness it is.”

To be continued…

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #alexia putellas #barca femeni #fc barcelona #barcelona femeni #barca #fc barca #culers

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writing-for-life · 25 days

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Right, okay, I’ve thought long and hard whether to write this:

A squick (even a strong one) is not the same as a trigger.

Emotional discomfort, even emotional discomfort that leads to low-level physical symptoms like e.g. mild nausea, is not trauma. Unfortunately, TikTok pop psych has done nothing to help people understand the difference, because the trend to perceive (even strong) emotional discomfort as equivalent to a trauma response is worrying and neither helps people with nor without PTSD. I don’t wish it on anyone to actually find out the difference if they haven’t yet (disclaimer, since this is unfortunately necessary these days because everything gets misconstrued: I am not talking about individual experiences, because only you can know about those. I’m talking about wider trends in an often young audience with not enough background info to be able to tell apart sound medical/psychological info and viral BS created by “influencers” for some kind of personal gain).

What people in the current fandom spat want to have tagged as “triggers” are overwhelmingly squicks. And we’re probably all guilty of quickly saying “that triggered me”, myself included (and I’m a licensed psychotherapist, shame on me). It has become somewhat of a shorthand for “extremely annoyed or grossed out”. But when it gets used in the context of tagging, it’s good to remember that no one owes us a tag list the length of our arm just because we don’t like certain things. Even if we strongly dislike them.

And even on the occasion someone else’s yuck or yum is an actual trigger for us, it is impossible to cover for every possible trigger, because in theory, EVERYTHING has the possibility to trigger someone somewhere.

E.g., a certain smell in a supermarket holds the rare possibility of triggering someone, but do you see disclaimers at the supermarket door that say, “May smell of 484 different things, which are in detail [list of 484 things] and might be different tomorrow. Plus, we might have a customer today who smells of that perfume that brings up your triggering childhood memories. Or maybe we won’t, but just on the odd chance we do, we thought we’d rather cover it”.

There might be one person with a very specific trigger that does literally nothing to the vast majority of people. Do we expect everyone on Tumblr to tag for “eyebrows” or “white T-Shirt” because of that? How about that person just puts “eyebrows” or “white T-Shirt” in their content filter instead?

Do we really suggest to put that type of responsibility on creators? More importantly: Who are we protecting that way? All we do is put people into bubble wrap and shift responsibility for our mental wellbeing away from ourselves to others.

We are trying to tell other people what to do for our own comfort. That’s controlling.

If we’re squicked out by something, there is a simple solution: we can stop looking or reading. We can use content (not tag) filters. In the worst case, we can block. We don’t have to put that type of responsibility for our personal sensitivities on creators (or people who reblog, for that matter).

We can tag for certain things as a courtesy, I’m all for it. I love being able to filter out stuff I’m not into, and I sometimes wish people would tag better or not tag a certain way (getting ship tags for a ship you’re not into slapped on your character-metas is annoying 🤣). But I don’t die, neither does it cause me unbearable distress, if I see cows where I don’t expect them. Scroll past or block. And if I’m worried about mature topics like nudity or violence: Tumblr has a community label for mature themes you can (and in my view should) use if in doubt. Funnily enough, many people don’t do that though—maybe because they worry about reach?

Of course we should include content warnings where they are due, no one says we shouldn’t. It’s also fair if a creator doesn’t wish to do that beyond general warnings (no specifics) though because they might give away, say, major plot points that way. In that case, general disclaimers like “contains depictions of violence”, or whatever it might be individually, are a good idea. And if that’s not specific enough for us despite knowing that “violence” in general might also contain our personal trigger, we might need to make the decision not to read it to stay safe, but we shouldn’t have a go at the writer for not tagging very specific things that might be considered spoilers.

Long story short: If we assume people are “triggered” by werewolves with vulvas or non-human characters, it might be worth thinking about whether we’re just talking about squicks that very much fall into the category of “personal responsibility”. And there are plenty solutions to that at our end—we don’t need to put that on creators…

#fandom problems #fandom entitlement #fandom stuff #squicks #vs #triggers #tagging #being grossed out or strongly disliking is uncomfortable #but it’s not the same as being triggered

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jarofstyles · 1 year

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Reaper 6

Reaper is a dark story with dark and mature subject matter. 18+ NSFW

Hello welcome back to the world of Reaper and Bunny, this is another light hearted chapter... the next one will satisfy what this one doesn't ;)

Check out our Patreon for exclusive writing and early access!

wc: 9.1k

warnings: cute couple behavior, changing room shenanigans, daddy kink?, we are giving you guys blue balls in this

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Harry hadn’t woken up happy like this in a long, long time.

A face full of hair and sweet smelling skin mixed with the scent of sex lingering in the room had always been something he avoided. Women weren’t allowed her and he never spent the night, not wanting any semblance of a connection past orgasms to be misconstrued.

This, though? This was a dream.

Sweet Bunny curled up with him, his arms firmly wrapped around her body and one hand, appropriate to his character, holding a breast. Her warm skin touched every inch of his. The best part had to be the fact he was still tucked up inside of her.

He had made sure to get them clean the night before, but she had woken him up with a soft little whine and whisper of ‘feels empty’ and that was all it took for him to guide himself back inside of the warm walls.

Waking up inside of her was fucking incredible. He felt warm and her cunt was snug and soft, making him exhale sharply as she moved in her sleep.

His hands pulled her in further, dislodging for a moment to brush the hair from her face, adjusting it so his lips could press against her neck. Stubble brushing the skin, his warm lips pressed a few kisses.

He could feel her breathing change slightly and smiled against her, his raspy morning voice breaking the morning silence.

“Mornin’ Bun.”

As Bunny slowly came to, she was overwhelmed by a feeling of warmth and fullness that she had only ever dreamed of. If it wasn’t for his grip on her, she wouldn’t have noticed. A smile spread across her sleepy and blissful face, squeezing herself around him out of instinct.

“Good morning…” She didn’t even attempt to hold back the moan before speaking, instead leaning into the sound. He felt so good completely wrapped around her. Y/N felt her heartbeat start to pick up as he breathed against her neck, already getting sucked right back into the feelings of last night.

She simply couldn’t get enough of him, but it seemed he was in the same boat.

“Oh bunny, what am I going to do about you?” He murmured, pressing kisses up to her ear. “Didn’t get enough? Is that it? You’re already ready to go?” He asked, surprisingly gently but she could tell he was just as eager but rather holding himself back.

“I don’t want you to stop.” Her weak morning voice whispered to him, clenching around him again and making him groan against her ear. He felt the chills on her skin, pressing herself back, not wanting to stop.

“Y’sure? You’re not sore?” He murmured, shallowly thrusting. He hadn’t had sex like that before, usually preferring to pin them down or have them ride him- but there was an intimacy to this. Cuddled up under the fresh blankets, her quiet breathing getting heavier.

“A little. But I like you inside me. Like when it hurts.” She grabbed his hand and held it to her stomach, arching slightly to let him get the picture.

“My god… what have I done to deserve a filthy, delicious little treat like you?” Harry asked, turning her head slightly so he could kiss her lips, sinking back all the way inside. Lazy morning sex had never been a priority, never even really a want. That required staying the night and he never liked anyone enough for that. Instead, this was probably one of his new favorite things.

He felt his hips push a little harder against her, each thrust pushing her body harder against his hand. He loved it. How easily he could move her around and how responsive she was to his touch.

“Have you really been thinking about me all these years?” He asked, recalling the one thing that had been on his mind since the words left her lips. It was a primal desire, he wanted to hear her say it again. “Did I meet your expectations?”

He was practically purring, hips moving at a slow yet passionate pace. He felt like he couldn’t be deep enough inside her, wanting to savor every second.

“More than.” She clutched his hand again, shivering when she felt his lips purring against her. It felt so good. Each movement of him against her had her body lighting up, addicted to the feeling of his personal brand of pleasure. It never felt like this with anyone else.

“All the years… I begged for you in my head. wanted you… to see me.” She spoke between his thrusts, admitting the truth freely to him.

It fueled him. Knowing he had been the main target all along. She had wanted him from day one and that did something for his soul. He knew he may not be able to keep her forever-

But he would treasure and cherish every single second he could now.

“Did you dream of this?” He slid his hand up her body, gently collaring her throat with his hand. “Dream of me waking you up like this? What did you dream of, my sweet girl?” He coaxed answers from her, cherishing every single drag of his cock inside of her. It was a privilege to get this again.

He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her as long as she allowed him.

She took in a deep breath, body shaking with pleasure each time he smoothed over the most sensitive parts of her skin. It was as if he knew just where to touch her, his hands tending to every part of her silky skin.

“Mmm…” Bunny hummed, feeling the vibration travel to his hand through her throat. “Yeah— just like that,” A pleased sigh escaped her, “Thought about you eating me out on the counter.” It was always a fantasy of hers even at her mom’s house. When Sterling was upstairs and Harry came down to grab a snack.

“In the shower too.” The feeling of her hot body pressed against the cool tiles, nipples grazing over the glass. “But this.. mostly this…” Bunny had always pictured the two of them having lazy yet passionate sex. Harry was raw, in ways many guys weren’t. He didn’t care about superficial things as much, he didn’t live a life where such things matter.

When it came to sex, it was one of the only ways he was able to communicate his love. If he’d ever felt love, to begin with.

“Good.” He brushed his lips over her skin, his thrusts lazily drinking up every bit of the sensation. Feeling her against his body, being inside of her, all of it felt unreal. He was going to soak up as much as possible, as much as she would allow.

He wouldn’t have touched her then simply on the principle that it was his best mate’s sister- but it didn’t mean he didn’t think about it as she grew into herself. He had always been fond of her but he resented himself when his attraction had grown.

Little did he know, she had been pining back even harder.

“I’ll give it to you whenever you want, Angel. As long as you keep being my good fucking girl, I’ll give you every bit of cock you want. And my mouth.” And this affection. He didn’t want to admit that quite yet- but he knew he had been good at taking what he could get.

A girl like Y/N could do plenty better than Harry, and she probably would want to leave one day- but Harry would take every little bit of her he could while she was in his possession. Especially since she so freely gave it.

“Can feel you… you’re so close. Are you going to cum on my cock again?”

“Yeah—“ She was breathing deeply, a true test of how relaxed she was, the fact that he could bring her to her climax so quickly. It sent another wave of pleasure over her body. It felt electric, the waves crashing over her with each push of his hips and gentle kisses along her shoulders.

“you make me feel so good…” Her words were accented by the smile tugging at her lips, sighs of relief filling the room along with more giggles. His stubble was tickling her neck, but the feeling of being warm and full of him was distracting.

The kisses didn’t stop even when she turned her body slightly to face him. Bunny used a free hand to guide his lips to hers, sighing blissfully into his mouth at the relief.

Gently massaging his head, her lips took control of the kiss. It wasn’t that he was giving any resistance, more than happy to follow her lead. Her kiss was sweet as if she hadn’t seen him for ages, even more, eager than after classes. Those kisses became so familiar, he was starting to think this was just how she kissed him. His lover girl.

He was gentle with her.

She was aware that with most of humanity, that was the opposite. He was hard and mean and he wasn’t someone you’d call a good person- but it was hard to remember that with his calloused fingers stroking her hot cheek, leaning into a place that neither of them had been in before.

Gentleness wasn’t a descriptor nearly anyone else could use for their interactions with him but Bunny absolutely could. He was rough with her during sex, sure, but outside of that? He treated her in the most tender way she could have ever expected. He was mindful of his strength, making sure she was safe and he didn’t hurt her- because if he did? He’d probably drive off a cliff or something.

He watched her eyes lazily open as they pulled back, swollen mouth curling into a sleepy smile before she pressed her cheek to his shoulder.

“What’s got you smiling like that?”

“Shhhhh..” She was far too shy despite the position they were in. “You know what.” Her words came out in a small whisper. There were far too many things to list. She felt safe and relaxed, comfortable in his arms, she felt well rested and brand new thanks to a night and morning full of sex. Why wouldn’t she be smiling?

“You look really sexy when you’re relaxed you know…” She decided she could trust her voice again, gently nipping at the crease between his shoulder and neck. “Kinda look hot when you’re mad too… sometimes.” Y/N thought she had gotten away with saying it quietly but it seemed he heard it clear as day.

It piqued his interest, his grasp on her hips tightened. Of course, the little angel liked a bit of danger.

“Too curious for your own good, bunny…”

His personal goal was to try and avoid having her see him in the way that earned him his nickname. He didn’t want to risk her freaking out and leaving or changing her mind about him- or even worse, feeling unsafe. He would never hurt her in a million years, never in his life. He adored her- even if he couldn’t say it out loud yet.

“Just honest.” She smiled, pecking his lips. “I think you’ve created a monster out of me. With the sex.” Her body curled into him, raising a hand and pushing some slightly sweaty hair from his face, letting herself observe him.

As beautiful as he was, he still looked dangerous. The slight scar over his eyebrow, the slight glint in his eyes, the stubble, all of it called to a part of her that should probably tell her to stay away- but instead, it made her want to run to him.

“Yeah? That’s not a problem. I’ve been described as a monster to some so… I think I can handle a horny one.”

“Do you?” She asked mischievously. “We’ll see about that.” It was just teasing, but then again that was something she was very good at. Bunny remembered how easily he cracked before, now it would only be harder for him to deny her. “I’m very needy.”

Pecking his lips once more she slowly attempted to pull away from him so she could escape to the bathroom. She didn’t want to interrupt, but she swore she would burst if sh—

“Harry!” She squealed, feeling him yank her arm back into bed. His body caged over top of hers pretty quickly. “Did I say you could go anywhere?” He purred against her, nose brushing up the side of her cheek.

“Please Harry, I gotta go pee.” Bunny pleaded and he could only chuckle. He’s had worse happen in this bed.

“You do?” He grinned, pulling back to look at her. “Shame. I don’t feel like letting you up yet.”

“Harry. Please?” She pouted, squirming underneath him. It had aroused her to be manhandled like that, to be trapped underneath him. It didn’t help that he began to mouth at her neck.

“Okay. Let me finish this.. and then I’ll let you up.” He had seen a lack of good marks on her neck. There were plenty on her breasts- but the one he had given her yesterday on her neck hadn’t developed the way he wanted. His lips attached to a piece of skin, kissing it slightly before increasing the pressure of his sucking. Hickeys hurt, but he knew his Bunny liked a lick of pain. Especially if it pleases him.

She was squirming beneath him, a different heat rising to her cheeks as she tried her best not to tense up too much from the feeling. It was a good kind of pain, the type that felt like sparks in her stomach.

Small whines let him know it was time to let go, but he certainly wasn’t ready just yet. He wanted to hear a few more mewls, to hear her beg once more. His sweet bunny, all his.

“Harry.” She breathed out through her nose, his grip on her wrists loosened, his lips still lingering over her body as he allowed her to move up and out of bed. He didn’t let go till his fingertips touched hers, watching her shuffle into the ensuite.

What was going on? What had even happened? Harry felt like he’d been in a bubble for the past 24 hours. Distracted. What time was it?

Harry wasn’t sure why it had snapped when it had, but he knew it was going to be impossible to go back to the way it was before. He wouldn’t be able to resist her anymore. Of course, the man had done his best to hold out, to keep himself calm and remember that she was indeed his best mate's sister… but he was also a selfish being. He wanted her, he wanted to know her taste and her smell and wanted to indulge in the fantasy of having her truly be his. So… he couldn’t really deny it anymore.

He did feel a bit of guilt that he would worry about later. This lifestyle and even him, they weren’t good enough for her. She deserved a hell of a lot more, a lot less looking over one's shoulders. She should have a nice guy outside of this town with a picket fence and some Goldendoodles and kids. That wasn’t what she would get with him.

Sure, she would get fierce loyalty and hot sex and devotion. But how much could that feed her?

Surprisingly? A lot.

Y/N sat with her feet flat against the floor, playing with her hands with a small smile on her face. It’s like she couldn’t wipe it off. She’d never been so happy, so carefree. Bunny truly had forgotten the things she feared beyond these four walls.

Harry had a way of making her feel seen, even in the moments when he was emotionally stunted. He was able to read her fluently, enough to know what was wrong and enough to desire to solve it. It seemed the best solution for relaxing was his tongue.

Y/N made her way back to the bedroom, feeling refreshed. Seeing him back to business mode on his phone, she wished she could snatch it out of his hand sometimes.

Harry had picked up his phone to go through messages he had gotten the night before. He’d been too busy balls deep inside of Bunny and he wasn’t letting anyone interrupt that, but now that they’d gotten a few rounds in he was able to concentrate.

A little bit.

He sat on the edge of the bed and felt her body weight dip the bed. His expectation was for her to cuddle back under the covers, but instead was met with arms wrapping should his body and a chin on his shoulder, plushy lips pressing into his cheek as she sighed. The casual affection was unexpected, something he was very unused to… but not unwelcoming.

“Why are you working already.” Her tone was slightly whiny, which oddly did something to his cock. He’s never liked whining before but perhaps it was just… from her.

“I’ve got to catch up on things from last night.” He murmured, typing back a reply to one of the messages. “If we’re spending today at home… I need to at least reschedule some shit.”

“Okay,” She relaxed against his back, letting her head rest against him the way she wanted. Cheek against his shoulder blade, closing her eyes again only to focus in on the sound of his heart and his breathing.

Y/N took her sweet time, gently tracing shapes over his chest and stomach with her finger. She just wanted to touch him, let him know she was there and present and waiting for his attention.

It meant a lot to her that he was taking the time out for her, but she had a feeling that last night convinced him to go against his doubts. He should stay with her. To keep her safe. It was selfish, but he couldn’t leave her on her own. He was the only one she could trust now.

Has she not known him for years, it would have been far more worrying that she was clinging to him like this. He couldn’t say he hated it. He’d never had a girl feel comfortable enough to touch him so freely and gently. He didn’t realize touch could feel this way. His heart sped up, clearing his throat before using a free hand to hold her hand against his stomach instead.

He didn’t usually like casual or affectionate touches. It was too familiar. People tried to figure him out, his ‘story’ so to speak, thinking there was a mystery behind him. And- there was. But it wasn’t for anyone faint of heart or anyone who sought out the story anyways.

That being said, Bunny had always been an exception to his rule. Only girl he let ride his bike, the only girl to stay the night in his bed, the only girl he gave hickeys to, the only girl he actually gave a shit about.

He was on his phone for a good 20 minutes, feeling her start to get a bit antsy as he felt kisses travel over his shoulders and back. He shivered slightly without being able to stop himself when she had gotten to his neck, still on the phone when she placed the side opposite to the phone full of little pecks. It wasn’t even necessarily sexual- but a touch of appreciation that made him a little confused. Why did it affect him so much?

“Okay. That was the last one.” He told her, turning his head to try and get a glimpse of her.

She didn’t even try to hide the excitement in her eyes, not having any plans for the day meant more quality time with him. Bunny woke up this morning with a mission to make him feel something different.

When he first told her she was the first girl he’d done all this with, she wasn’t surprised. However, it did make her heart hurt. He’s never known softness, but even self-proclaimed monsters need a place where they can just be.

“Yeah? You still have things to do today though, right?” She wanted to make sure he knew she would give him space if it all became too much. “Don’t have to do it now though… if you don’t want to.” Bunny leaned forward again and pressed a kiss to his chin.

He looked confused for a moment as if he expected her to kiss his lips but he wasn’t disappointed. A kiss followed shortly after. She couldn’t help it. He just looked like he needed it.

“I was thinking we could go shopping. We need some more groceries… can go into the city for a bit, first. I need to get some new jeans. Sound like something you’d want to do?”

He wasn’t sure what to do. If he should even attempt being romantic with her or what the deal was. It was something of uncharted territory… but he also liked the idea of people seeing them together.

“M’sorry I’m not letting you go back to school yet. I just…” he licked his suddenly dry lip, looking at her wide eyes. “I don’t want you around that area yet. I got a text from Wiz- he’s going tonight and sneaking into the lot to install a discreet camera facing your parking spot.” Thank god they had designated spots. “So maybe we can catch him if he tries this shit again.” He didn’t want to remind her of the situation but he also wanted her to be aware he was taking extra precautions for her. Was trying to make sure she was aware he was going to do any and everything he could to make her safe.

“Shopping? Say no more.” Bunny scrunched her nose and gave him a cheeky smile. He did mention the jeans thing a while back, they were far too busy before but now that things are tense but settled? Why not. No one could harm her if he was with her. Knowing Reaper, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

“I wanna see you in one of those button ups… the sheer ones or the silky ones.” She hummed at the thought, “Think you’d look really good. Like… really really good.” Bunny could already see the fabric clinging to his body. It would hang off his shoulders just right. Show off his back…

“But cuddle first.” Y/N pulled him backwards into bed, giggling as his weight crushed her in just the right way. “Before we get up to eat, don’t wanna get up yet..” code for, I don’t want the moment to end.

She swore she’d stay in bed with him all day if he let her.

“Well… I don’t think I can say no to putting one in when you seem to get horny just thinking about them.” He laughed, letting her pull his body down onto the bed into her lap. Harry melted into her, letting out a sigh as she looked down at him spiderman style. He could see how long her eyelashes were and slightly up her nose, but he just shook his head. The comfort was something he would happily do as long as she would let her.

—-

“Bunny….” Harry gave her a look as she piled her arms with clothing for him to try on. She had brought him to a boutique she knew that sold men’s clothing, and was using him as her personal Barbie doll.

Harry stuck out like a sore thumb. A lot of this stuff was for hipsters, really, and Harry looked like a guard dog, a scowl on his face as he looked at anyone who passed them. He had let her walk around the store, following behind her quietly until he realized what exactly she was doing.

“Please?” She hit him with a pout. A pout that made him inhale deeply, looking at the stack of clothing in her hands. She had been through some shit and the giddiness on her face at the prospect of him trying some things on would be a little price to pay to try and make up for the lack of empathy he’s given her.

“Fine. But you need to come in the dressing room with me. You aren’t out of my sight.”

“I’d never say no to that.” She smirked, “but no funny business, okay Harry?” Bunny teased knowing damn well she was the one who needed the warning. It would be hard not to touch on him especially when he’d be trying on the most attractive pieces.

Harry wasn’t one to wear colors, so she chose mostly black shirts and jeans. Except for this one red shirt that was screaming for him to try on. It was a thin material, just showed enough to make her want to rip it off of him. That’s what she thought at least, she wanted to see it on him.

“Promise you can pick something for me later and I’ll try it on for you too.” Y/N had an idea of a few things he could like. For his eyes only of course.

After Bunny was finished scanning the shop, she led him to the dressing rooms deciding to pick the one at the very back. It was bigger than the others, more private.

Harry raised a brow at the promise. One that he was 100% going to make her fulfill. He was a man of his word, after all.

It was amusing seeing her think through which shirts or pants she wanted him to try on. It was also evident that she was very much aware there wasn’t much of a problem with money, choosing some pieces that had Harry’s eyes widening a bit. He never spent a lot on clothes, really, besides if he was going to go somewhere for the club that needed it. His jeans usually came from thrift stores or whatever shop was closest. This was a new thing for him. Shopping was in and out for him- but he had to remember the times he and Sterling had to accompany her and her friends to the malls outside their territory. Hours upon hours.

“Okay…” he cleared his throat, leaning against the closed door of the fitting room while she placed the items on the rack. “What am I doing here? What do I try first?”

“Let’s do the jeans first to get them out of the way. I think you’ll know if you like them or not.” Y/N handed him the few folded pairs of black jeans. They were pretty simple, but good quality. They wouldn’t tear as easily but would still hold up nicely even with biking.

“Can take your shirt off if you want, gonna have you truly the shirts on with one of the pairs of jeans on.” Bunny wanted him to see her vision fully. The new jeans would help determine which shirts would stay.

“Obviously if you don’t like anything or don’t feel good in them, then don’t just agree 'cause I picked them… want you to like them too.” She cooed and turned back around to take a good look at him.

“Well.. I do trust your taste considering I know fuck all about fashion.” He laughed under his breath. His jeans were stripped down and tossed off to the side where Bunny sat and his shirt followed.

While essentially naked, he moved, grabbing a pair of jeans and slipping them on. She had taken a few pairs of pants and somehow found differences between them all. Harry didn’t know what it was besides maybe the fit? But these already fit nicely. If he was alone he would simply grab these and go.

However… he could feel her eyes on him. His back was to her as he looked in the mirror and he was positive she could see the scratch marks she had left up the planes of his back. She was a wildcat and had definitely marked her territory, something he would wear with pride. She matched with her love bites, but he knew just from his shower earlier that she did a number on him.

“How’re these?”

“Huh?” Y/N pulled herself from her thoughts at the sound of his voice, “Turn around.” She spoke when she processed what he’d said. Taking a step forward, she gave him a look up and down. They fit really well.

“Bum looks good,” Bunny smirked, smacking it lightly just to get a rise out of him. She liked pushing his buttons but he was patient with her. “Do you like them?” It didn’t matter how many times he said he didn’t care she wanted to make sure he picked ones he liked.

Her hands moved to his belt loops, pulling herself closer for a moment to give him time to answer. And to steal a quick kiss of course.

He gave her an unamused look at the smack to the ass but it was quickly wiped away when she kissed him. It was the casual kisses that kind of knocked him off his feet in a way. It was flattering to think she was comfortable enough with him to do that.

“I do. But we’re never going to get out of this room if y’keep kissing on me.” His own hand strayed down to get a handful of his own, dipping under her skirt and squeezing the soft flesh covered by her panties. Shame.

“Sorry, Daddy.” She purred up at him, making his jaw clench. Like she said- pushing his buttons, making him tick, being a bit of a brat was fun for her.

She hadn’t expected his hand to grab jaw and move her back slightly with a warning look on his face- but it aroused her further. This mostly unexplored part of him made her melt, eyes widening up at his dark ones.

“I said to watch yourself, little girl.” He spoke quietly. “Don’t get me worked up one pair of pants in.” A tiny peck was placed on her lips paired with a tiny squeeze to her jaw before he released her, turning around to take them off.

“I’ll get these. Which should I try next?”

“Any.” She spoke, rather winded. Y/N had been hot since this morning, still not adjusted to the new stage in their relationship. Bunny wanted to be touching him all the time. He always had the ability to take her breath away. He knew just how much pressure to apply and when to apply it. Touchy. It made her skin buzz. She licked over her lip and handed him the next pair of jeans, smiling smugly to herself.

He had unlocked the one part she’d been holding back. He gave her the go-ahead, the freedom to do as she pleased. It was giving her enough satisfaction seeing him react so strongly to her. To see he’d been holding back as well.

They zoomed past the next pair, Harry agreed that they fit well. Even said he preferred those which shocked her. She had managed to sway him. He did care deep down. Y/N was getting impatient though, wanting to see all the button-ups.

“Okay… pick which one you want to try first. Do your thing.” She decided she would have a seat for this one, leaning back against the wall of the dressing room.

Harry let his eyes run over the tops she had chosen. They were definitely a bit out there, sure, but she knew his go to’s so it wasn’t like it was something completely unwearable.

Except one.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got t’be joking with this one.” He snorted, looking at the one with… chicks? Printed on it. It was ugly. Point blank period, no other way around it. It was probably a gag but he still didn’t know what she was thinking even bringing it in here.

“I’d burn that one. But…” his eyes took in a silky black one, humming as he observed the embossed pattern on it.

“This one is nice.” It had a snake print around it, only visible when the light caught it. “This is more like it. Not cartoon chicks.”

He tugged it on his body, straightening up as the fabric fell against his body. “Hm…” he liked it. He was partial to silk and satin when he went out, even just to the bar if he felt like looking good in order to pull- but this was different. It felt different because Bunny was the one who chose it.

Bunny scrunched her nose at him, nodding along with the idea of burning the shirt. It was a gag, but she wanted to see what he would say.

“Really? I think you’d make it look good.” She smacked the gum in her mouth, watching as he fell in love with the black shirt. Bunny knew he’d be drawn to it, it screamed his name. It was practically begging for her to pick it up the second she walked into the boutique. It was his already.

“Yeah?” Y/N raised her brow, “Sex on legs in that.” There was no other way to describe it. Anyone would see him in that shirt and immediately want to rip it off of him. “Definitely getting this one.”

“How about the red one?”

“Sex on legs?” He chuffed. “I’d say so. But I’m glad y’think so too.” He decided on that once, scoffing at the price tag but placing it back on the hanger. He never splurged but it was obviously making her happy to watch him try things on.

His hands reached for the red one. It was sheer and soft and had lining on the cuffs and collar with some velvet, the rest left on its own. Truthfully he felt like he wasn’t even wearing much, the soft material lightweight against his skin. Cool to the touch.

It was hot.

Y/N watched with her lip bitten between her teeth as he took his hair down from the bun it was in, shaking out his hair as he tried to get the vision. He was so attractive it was almost criminal. The only reason it wasn’t was because she was the one that got him.

“I like this one too. It’s hot.” He mumbled. “Can see all my tattoos though. Dunno if a jealous thing like you can handle that.”

“Mmm well it’s for my eyes, isn’t it? if I can dress slutty then so can you.” She said with a shrug, knowing damn well she would be eating her words next time they were out. The moment she’d see a girl looking at him for too long she’d make her wish she hadn’t. Not that they could really truly go out without being on edge.

“I like that you know you’re good looking.” Bunny hummed, “But I don’t like to share either. So I think it works out for the both of us, hmm?” The two of them really were a match. Undeniably so, they fit together like a puzzle, their flaws complimenting each other.

“Okay let’s finish up here, next one.” She was getting a bit fidgety, unable to touch him here despite her wants. Harry could see it in her eyes, a smug smile stuck on his face. He wanted to give her something to hold her over.

She handed him the next one while he watched her squirm slightly. She was antsy and he knew exactly why.

The newfound sexual energy that they had finally given into had been something that tempted the both of them. It was just more visible on Y/N. She bit at her lip and fiddled with the ends of her hair, legs pressed together as she exhaled shakily. He had taken off his shirt and stood in just jeans, a sight that was honestly hotter than she cared to admit.

There was the lazy smugness, the arrogance that she found so fucking hot it was ridiculous. He knew she was struggling a bit and didn’t offer her anything but temptation, pulling on a few more shirts which she approved all of.

Truly? He could even pull if the stupid chick shirt. It was infuriating.

“You’re being good.” He commented, hanging the last shirt up. “I’m proud of you.” His voice dropped as he approached her, standing tall in front of her sitting form. “Behaving even though I know you’re a mess between your legs. What a good little thing you are. I’m a little surprised given how greedy you were but… you’ve behaved.” His knuckled brushed over her hot cheek, that smirk making her breathing catch. “Good girl.”

She could feel her stomach flip, practically purring as her eyes glossed over in need. He seemed to know exactly what to say to get her here, but she had a feeling he wasn’t going to let her have it. She let her hands find the back of his thighs, holding him there and slowly making her way up.

How she’d love to have him in her mouth right no—

“Don’t even think about it.” Harry grabbed her jaw again, forcing her to look up at him. This was just a warning, but he was really serious about this. Normally he’d be all for a quick blowy in a dressing room but now when she was actively being stalked. Who knows what this guy was capable of.

“Come on… let’s go check out and then we can go home and do whatever you want.” He tried to persuade her but the girl had other plans.

“What about you picking something for me?”

Harry’s tune changed pretty quickly at that idea.

“Well…. I suppose.” He tried not to get excited. Yes, it delayed his plans, but he also was never going to say no to the idea of her buying something pretty to wear exclusively for him.

“Let’s go.”

He didn’t blink at the total at the register, far too in his own head thinking about the fact he was going to get to choose stuff for her- and keeping his eyes around the store to make sure there weren’t any suspicious characters lingering around.

Bunny was preening. Harry had held on to her hand extra tight as they walked along the shops, his hand strong and warm and she felt an extra spring in her step as the other held his shopping bag. Standing next to him gathered some attention but it was attention she liked. Leaning into his body, she knew she was going to rile him up. Get him into some trouble.

“Right there!” She chirped, pulling him suddenly when she saw the shop she wanted to go into.

Harry should have known better. The plan she had all along, created just to torture him. Of course, he would never decline going into a lingerie shop, he knew that this would end incredibly well for him.

“Ahh, right to the point darling.” Harry shook his head a bit at her excitement, taking a look around the shop to figure out where even to begin. “All right, is there anything you don’t feel comfortable wearing?”

He knew that girls were really sensitive when it came to their bodies. He had seen his fair share of meltdowns at the warehouse when the guys commented on girls' bodies without question. He knew better. There was no need to do that, especially when they didn’t plan on seeing them again.

Regardless, he didn’t want Bunny to feel uncomfortable just for the sake of pleasing him. He wanted to choose something she’d be comfortable in. So she could feel like her sexiest self for him.

It made her want to suck him off even more.

Harry, for all his flaws and a bit of emotional blindness, was considerate as hell when it came to her body like this. He was always making sure he had consent to touch her previously, he had always been respectful of her and for that, she appreciated him. Sure, it was the bare minimum. But he stepped up.

“Nope.” She popped the p in the world, giving him a sly smile. “Anything you want. I’m not huge on wearing g strings for a daily thing… but for special occasions they’re fine.” She shrugged, excited for what he could pull.

“Hope you don’t regret giving me free rein.” He chuckled, looking around the store. There was an abundance of lace and silk and bodysuits and panties… a lot of things he knew would look incredible on her.

“I think you’d look incredible in any of this shit. I want to see you in everything.”

“I’m sure you would, Harry. But go on… pick your favorite.” Bunny felt herself get warm at the idea, genuinely interested to find out what Harry’s preferences were.

She was personally eyeing up a few baby doll dresses and silk slip dresses, but that was more her taste. She never really had a specific type she liked anyway, as long as it was comfortable to wear and a cute color. Half the time she didn’t even bother with fancy underwear, but other times she did care because she believed it gave her more confidence.

Harry however was really putting his thought into it. It seemed his eyes were drawn to lighter colors despite his personal taste, hell, most of the things he was touching looked so wrong in his hands. He thinks it’s probably why he likes it so much.

His fingers brushed the delicate lace on mesh, picking it up and thinking clearly about what it would look like on her. He liked the soft pink one with cherry blossoms embroidered on it, a set with a sheer bra and matching panties. He lightly placed it basket Y/N had given to him to put the finds into.

One of the appeals of Y/N was probably a bit of the fact he shouldn’t touch her. Her sunshine and sweetness was something he directly went against in his own personality. Her light to his dark. He was dirtying her, sullying that but if innocence- but she seemed to eat it up.

He chose more. A few sets of light colors, whites and baby pink and powder blue, soft spoken colors and delicate details. Lace and ribbon and softness that he could easily destroy, though he would be gentle with.

His eyes had caught hers lingering in her staple slip dresses and decided to choose some of those in similar fashions, but shorter than she usually wore. He wanted to see what she would do.

“I think the basket is full.” He lifted it up. “I’d make you try on the whole store if I could. But I don’t think I could last that long.”

“Let’s see how many you get through.” She giggled, flattered that he wanted to see her in that many to begin with. It was interesting to see what was in the bag, she expected him to pick something dark to match his own aesthetic.

She didn’t typically wear colors like that either, often choosing something darker or muted and earthy. It’s clear he saw her as such a delicate person, it made her feel so exposed. In a good way.

They made their way into the dressing room once again, but this time they really had to be good because there was a massive gap at the top and bottom of the rooms. Likely to prevent any suspicious behavior. Of course, it covered enough, but they walked all the way to the back just for good measure.

Harry placed the basket down, hanging up his choices on the rack and took a seat. He was strangely a bit nervous to see if she liked them- but not more than his excitement to see her in them.

“Are you…” she swallowed, looking at him sitting with his legs spread and his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re staying while I change into these?”

Harry could tell she was a little nervous, but not so much that he was going to upset her. Still, he wanted to make sure she was comfortable, but there was no way he was leaving her without his eyes on her physically.

“I can look at your feet instead if you’re uncomfortable. I can’t leave you by yourself. I’ve seen it all and like every bit of it, but if it makes you feel more comfortable I can look at the floor while you change.” And he wouldn’t peek.

Maybe.

“No, it’s okay.” If the man wanted to look, let him look. She wasn’t going to stop him. Even with any of the insecurities she had, she was positive he would be more concerned with holding himself together. He was right, he had seen it all. He’d seen far more gruesome things, to him she was the best view.

Stripping down was the easy part.

Y/N took her time picking out which one she wanted first, deciding to start with one that looked both revealing and comfortable. It was lilac, the front had a part that you could tie in the front with two panels of fabric that showed just the right amount of her stomach and the matching thong. She liked the way it was still a bit modest but definitely screamed fuck me.

Y/N turned around so she could show him the front, clasping her hands behind her back as she tried to read his face.

His eyes were dark, looking her up and down as he observed one of his picks. She was fucking stunning, that much as obvious, but he felt hot under his shirt just looking at her.

Her tummy peeked out from the piece, the sheer fabric floating down her sides and the lace covering her breasts. Breasts that still had a few marks from his teeth lingering there.

She looked like his own personal angel. One that had been sent down here to torture him into being a semi decent person.

A large exhale through his nose made him lean back further, rubbing his finger under his nose. “Fucking gorgeous.” He mumbled. “M’getting you that one. Take it off before I do something I regret.”

It was the first one and his cock was twitching, his pants getting a little tight. She was smug by the looks of it and he didn’t like how easily the tables had turned.

“Okay, tell me which one you like best so I can spare you.” She said, deciding that she’d keep that one to try on at home. Her hands hovered over them, but she had a feeling which one he would want her to save for last.

“Black one.” He nodded, watching as she stripped out of the current set and slipped into the new one. Harry wished he could look away, maybe it would be easier for him if he had. Seeing her so comfortable and so willing to show him these sets woke up something inside him that he wasn’t sure he was prepared to deal with. Especially in public.

The set was a light pink one, far sheerer. She felt confident in this one, it was comfy and it had great support.

“My tits look so good!” She groaned, cutting his view of her perky bum short as she turned around once again to let him see. They did look really good. A bit too good.

“Yes, they do.” He released his hands to rub over his thighs, eyeing her up as she turned to him. God fucking damn, they really did.

“Look even better with my marks on ‘em, though.” His eyes drank up the vision, though his hands stayed at his sides. The reason the black had been his favorite was because he felt like he could properly touch her in that. These? She looked like his own angel, untouchable. Something he should avoid, but wanted very badly.

“Give me a spin.” He made the motion with his hand, watching as she obeyed and gave him a look at what she had to offer. A slight bruise on her ass from his hand spanking it, a few on her thighs from when he had held them up. She was littered with reminders of him.

“You look sexy as all hell, Bunny.” He admitted, chewing at his gum. “I think you should get that too. You look really good in those sorts of colors and… I wouldn’t mind seeing your tits in that again.” He would welcome it happily.

Harry was trying very hard to behave, but it was hard. And so was he.

“Mmm thank you,” She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. She’d never felt so beautiful in her life. Maybe it was silly, but there was something special about this. She never felt comfortable enough to do this with anyone.

Even though his eyes were absolutely devouring her, he was still sitting in place, not moving. It was enough for him to observe, to see her just standing there for him. The rest he could imagine could remember the feeling of.

The next few were a similar style, but there were some she had been saving for the end for a reason. They showed more than they covered, both of them had garters with clips as well. She’d never had a set like this before and she was surprised Harry picked up three of the same in different colors. He really liked them. The pink one was her favorite so she thought it was the best to try on.

“Could you… help me with these bits? I don’t know how they’re supposed to look…”

God damn it.

Harry swallowed, knowing that touching her was going to be a temptation that he would have to fight- but he nodded. Keeping his legs spread, he motioned for her to come over.

Bunny was giddy, the straps swaying as she walked over to him and felt his hands against her skin as he reached for the clips. The garter had been pulled up her leg, but they were a bit complex to untangle.

She lifted her leg up to rest next to him, standing directly between his legs and probably a bit too close- but she wanted to. Tempting him was her job, and his face was so close to her cunt that she felt the heat stirring right in her stomach. His skilled fingers untangled the bits and stroked her leg a little as he clasped the front.

“Turn around.” His voice rasped, the temptation of pressing kisses to the band of her panties and peeling them down too much- but having her ass in his face didn’t do him much better.

Bunny liked this feeling. The slow build up of tension. Her heart was racing just having him stroke her leg, she’d been dying to touch him this whole day but she said she would be good.

“Harry…” Y/N breathed, hoping he’d give into her even just for a second. She wasn’t sure what she wanted but she wanted something more than this. It was getting so hard to resist.

“Go on.” He motioned her to take a step away from him the moment he finished with the clasps. It was really hard for him to ignore her like that, but he couldn’t give into her here. For her safety.

There was a tiny pout on her face as she stepped away, looking into the mirror at herself. Even she had to admit this was hot. Her body was curved in the places she liked, the outfit screamed sex. She ran her hand over her body, smoothing out invisible creases as she tossed her hair over her shoulders.

Harry didn’t like disappointing her but he knew if he stayed at that angle, he would do something bad. So he stood up, deciding to indulge in a bit of touch that wouldn’t go past anything other than a tease.

“You are a little minx.” He murmured, moving to stand behind her. His hand wrapped around her, flattening on her stomach as he looked at the both of them in the mirror.

It was bittersweet.

They looked hot as a couple. Leather and lace, quite literally. Light and dark. Her aura was soft pink and white clouds and his was the midnight sky and flames, and yet they seemed to melt together.

He looked dirty compared to her. He would never be good enough for a woman like her. A goddess. Oozing goodness and sweetness and things he wanted to devour and own for himself. But for the time being, she was his.

“Don’t be pouty.” His breath tickled her ear. “I’ll give you any and everything you want when we get home. I’ll make you cum so many times your throat is sore from begging and your knees are so weak you can’t stand. But m’not going to touch you out here. It’s too risky.” He kissed her cheek, settling on that.

“Can we go home then?”

She didn’t hesitate, knowing she could try the rest on for him later and have the exact ending she wanted. Part of her liked seeing him try to control his urges, it made her feel powerful and beautiful beyond belief. She could feel how hard he was, her barely covered bum was resting so comfortably against it.

Bunny didn’t want to think, she just wanted to be back home with him in the bubble they’d created. It was nice to have something to keep her mind off of things. Sure, she was upset she was missing class because she genuinely did love learning about cooking, but this was the perfect replacement.

Let’s be real, they both knew they’d be buying everything he put in that basket. It was nice to try it all on for him of course.

“Yeah. We can.” He sighed, knowing it was for the best. He couldn’t behave himself and he knew it now, plus Bunny was not too far off herself. He could tell she was desperate for it- and being honest, so was he.

He had gotten a taste of her and now he was starving. He had held back for a while but now it was time to indulge in his cravings before she decided she didn’t want to share herself with him anymore.

“God, M’gonna ruin you.” He murmured softly against her neck, placing a few kisses to the warm skin. “Just had you a few hours ago but I want to make you weak again. Looking at you like this is driving me mad.”

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