#i won’t try to remember it in the morning is the Most Important Part

[freedomfireflies]

Five to Go Live*

Summary: The fifth and final part to One for the Money*

Mr. Styles, your boss (and the CEO of the company you work for), offers to help you expand your OnlyFans business.

But maybe you want more.

And maybe he does, too.

Word Count: 11.5k (I have no idea what happened tbh)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Good morning, Mr. Styles.”

The tense frame of the man pacing in front of the window stills when he hears your greeting. 

You’re five minutes early, coffee in hand, ready to begin your workday.

However, he doesn’t turn around as you enter his office. But the slight glimpse of his profile lets you know he’s acutely aware of your presence.

He stays by his desk, offering nothing more than his silence as you set down his drink and move for the couch.

“Good morning,” is his brisk greeting. It’s not any warmer or colder than usual. It’s just him. “Do you have the reports I asked for?”

“Right here.” You drop them onto the coffee table. “Ready for your meeting this afternoon.”

“Good.” He stares out at the city, unwilling to look you in the eye. “And you’ve confirmed with Nadia?”

“Yes. She’s calling for a driver as we speak.”

He nods once, fingers flexing beside his thighs before he finally ventures a glance over his shoulder. “And I suppose you’d like to talk to me about the other day.”

You flip open the laptop and pull up your email, eyebrow raised. “The other day?”

He turns to you, and you feel his heated stare. “I believe I owe you an explanation.”

“Not really,” you respond, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “You agreed to help me with the video, and you did. I didn’t expect you to stay, Sir.”

Your peripheral catches his slight frown. “You didn’t?”

“No.” You open his schedule and begin jotting down a few notes from Nadia’s email. “You’re not exactly the cuddling type. Probably would have been weirder if you had stayed.”

His hands disappear into his pockets as he regards you. “I never meant to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” Another shrug. “I knew what I agreed to, and now we’re done. No harm, no foul.”

The frown deepens. “Still, I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that—”

“Mr. Styles,” you interrupt, turning to face him, “I wasn’t under the illusion that things would change just because we fucked. I didn’t need aftercare, I didn’t need your words of affirmation, and I didn’t need you to stay.”

Something unrecognizable passes over his features.

You lean forward. “We’re good, Sir.”

The office goes quiet. You know him well enough by now to know what it looks like when he’s biting back a response.

And you imagine there are quite a few things he’d like to berate you for, but instead, he merely clamps his jaw shut and nods.

“All right.” He returns to his desk and takes a seat. “Let’s begin.”

The rest of the workweek carries on like usual. Things return to normal. Or at least to the way they were before he admitted to knowing about your outside activities.

And you find that you’re grateful for that. It’s much easier to only imagine him as your boss instead of your…business partner. 

What happened that afternoon in the hotel room was great. Fantastic, even. But it was only ever an act of generosity. A favor, more like. He helped you exactly the way he said he would and now it’s over.

You won’t ever have to think about him like that again.

So…you don’t. 

At least, you try not to. But it proves quite difficult.

After deciding against posting the whole video for your channel, and instead only uploading the part where he comes on your tits, it becomes harder to ignore what you two have done. 

 After all, the response is overwhelming. Positive, excited, and extremely lucrative. Most of the requests are for more of the mysterious man they’ve come to know, and you try not to feel disappointed when you realize there won’t be any more guest appearances. 

You wonder if he’s watched it. Wonder if he remembers that day the way you do.

Sometimes you slip up, and you watch the beginning just to hear him talk to you. You watch the way you undress him. Watch the way he kisses you. Watch the way he drives himself inside of you and begs you to come for him.

But then it hits you. Like a fucking freight train. It won’t ever happen again, and lingering on the one time it did isn’t healthy.

So, you turn it off, and attempt to resume life as normal.

You reach out to Max to apologize yet again for what happened, and he’s incredibly understanding. He asks if you’d like to meet for drinks and go over another scene for the future.

And you agree because you will do anything to put Mr. Styles in your rearview mirror.

You don’t mention the meeting to your boss. You figure it won’t do any good, and even if he disapproved, it’s not like he would tell you.

This is your game now. Not his.

So, with a new lease on life, you head for the bar to meet with Max, eager to find out what he has in store.

He’s happy to see you. Pulling out your chair and refusing any attempts at apologies that you offer.

Which you’re more than appreciative of, although you can’t help feeling a bit guilty that he didn’t get the content he’d been wanting.

“Seriously, don’t even worry about it,” he repeats for the third time since you sat down. “Honestly. I get it, once other people get involved, it gets complicated.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, sheepishly glancing down at your lap. “But still. He shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have let him run you out like that.”

He smiles. “It’s fine. Listen, your boyfriend has nothing to worry about. Really. And we can proceed however you feel is best—”

“Oh, no, he’s…he’s not my boyfriend,” you interject, head shaking quickly. “No, he was just…nobody. He’s nobody. Anymore.”

Max studies you for a moment, seemingly curious at your insistence. “Oh? Does…he know that?”

You swallow thickly and take hold of your glass. “Yeah. He does.”

A beat before he nods.

“All right.” Max takes a swig himself. “As long as you’re sure this is something you want.”

You nod but can’t help finding yourself hesitating. “Yeah, it’s…yeah. Of course.”

His expression softens. “Boyfriend or not, he still has a hold over you, doesn’t he?”

And you grimace because you hate the way it sounds. Hate how obvious it must be to everyone else. Hate that it’s even a thing at all.

“No, he just…he’s infuriating,” you argue. “I mean, you were there. You saw what he’s like.”

“I was and I did,” he agrees with a smirk. “Infuriating is the nicer way to put it.”

“He’s a dick,” you correct, making you both smile. “But I trusted him. And I trusted his judgment. And him being so…blunt is sometimes a good thing. Because there’s no room for overthinking or questioning what he really wants. He tells you. Exactly how he feels, exactly how he feels it.”

Max nods thoughtfully, urging you to continue.

“And yet there are so many things I feel like he’s keeping from me,” you murmur. “And maybe he doesn’t owe me answers. Maybe it doesn’t even matter, but I just…there was this moment when we were on the same page. When it felt so seamless, and easy, and good. And now…”

Max sighs. “Now he’s nobody.”

You both grow quiet as you let this settle.

“Yeah,” you whisper, taking a sip of your drink. “He’s nobody. And it’s nothing. And it’s over anyway, so…I’m free to do whatever I’d like.”

He laughs. “That’s a great attitude.”

“Why thank you very much.”

“Of course.” He rubs his hands together. “Well, I guess in that case…maybe we should go over—”

“Peach Valentine.”

And almost as if you spoke him into existence, that familiar voice finds you. Cutting right through your conversation as chills fly up the back of your neck.

You almost don’t want to look. Want to pretend that this is merely a subconscious projection of the very last man you want to see.

But you can feel his presence behind you. Can smell his cologne and can see the surprised look on Max’s face.

Of course he’s here.

Slowly, you turn around, letting your eyes find the tall figure looming only a foot or two away.

He’s wearing an expression you know all too well. The one that tells you exactly what he’s thinking without him having to say a single word.

And your stomach sinks.

“Sir,” you whisper, voice oddly timid before you clear your throat and straighten up. “Hello.”

For a moment, he’s quiet. Offering nothing more than a blank stare. Then, he looks at Max. He looks at you. And nobody speaks.

Finally, his jaw sets, and his hands bury themselves deep within his expensive pockets. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m…I’m meeting with Max,” you reply, shooting a smile toward your new friend.

Mr. Styles frowns. “You didn’t tell me you were meeting him.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” you retort, lowering your voice as you send him a pointed look. “Seeing as we’re not partners anymore.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re still my assistant. And your well-being is my concern.”

“Oh? I thought what I did with my personal life didn’t concern you.”

“It does when it has to do with him.”

Your glare begins to mirror his. “Well, since I am in need of a new business partner, I figured Max would be the perfect one to ask.”

Mr. Styles rolls his shoulders back, regarding you carefully. “And since when are you in need of a new business partner?”

“Since my old one walked out on me.”

This does it. His features twist into an unforgiving and rather harsh look of disdain as he steps closer and drops his tone. “I told you, I needed to explain—”

“No, you don’t need to explain,” you correct. “I’m not upset. I’m not bitter. I’m not angry. But that doesn’t change the fact that our agreement is over.”

His teeth grit. “Just because I left doesn’t mean I was ending our deal—”

“It does in my book. I don’t have time to wait for you, Sir.” You sit up, leveling the playing field. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

His fingers suddenly wrap around your upper arm, tugging on you until your feet hit the floor, forcing you to stand. “I need to talk to you.”

A bit surprised, you blink rapidly and attempt to pull yourself free. “Mr. Styles—”

“Now, Peach.”

You want to argue. Want to fight him on this. Want to stay strong, stay with Max. Send the mean man away.

But you know him, no matter how belligerent he’s being. And there’s something in those eyes that you’ve found yourself lost in that persuades you to nod and follow him to the hallway.

The moment you’re alone and the loud music has been dulled to a quiet hum, you step away from him. Put the necessary distance between your bodies as he watches you go.

“You shouldn’t be talking to him,” he says simply, almost as if it were obvious. “In fact, you shouldn’t be here at all.”

You scoff, rearing back to stare at him incredulously. “I’m sorry…you’re joking, right?”

“It’s a work night,” he replies, still infuriatingly cool. “And we agreed you wouldn’t do business with him—”

“We agreed?” Your eyebrow raises. “No, we didn’t agree on anything. You ran him out of the room without so much as checking with me first. And since when are we a we at all?”

He’s far too calm for your liking. “I told you, I’m still your boss. And partner. I want what’s best for you—”

“Really? Is that why you left?”

Once again, he scowls. “I told you, I had things to do—”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you snort. “Look, I don’t care why you left. I don’t even care that you left. But you did leave. So if I want to film with Max, I have every right to do so—”

“You do,” he agrees. “But you’re much smarter than that, Peach. And you know it.”

“Yeah? And what makes me so smart, hm? Sleeping with you?”

His expression twists into something you don’t recognize. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Sleep with you? Or point out that we did?”

“Peach—”

“No, you know what?” You take a brave step forward. “You have no right to come in here and demand that I leave him. Max is a good guy. In fact, of all the people that I’ve messaged on OnlyFans, he’s the only one that hasn’t said something skeevy or inappropriate.”

His expression falls. “Are you being harassed?”

“Not if I don’t respond. The block button exists for a reason. And that’s not even the point. The point is that you told me to do this. You told me it would be good for my channel to collaborate—”

“But not with him.”

“Then who? You?”

The hallway stills as Mr. Styles leans back. “This was never about me.”

“No. It wasn’t. It was about me,” you agree. “That’s what you promised. That this would be about what I wanted to do. And I want to meet with Max.”

The glare returns. “If you’re trying to punish me—”

“Punish you?” You laugh but it’s void of all humor. “Punish you for what? For being exactly who I thought you were?”

“You shouldn’t be here with him,” he says again, and your eyes roll.

“Then where should I be, huh, Sir? Should I be at home? Like a good little girl?” You take another step forward. “Should I be on my knees, waiting for you? Should I be fucking myself with that toy you bought? Pretending it’s you?”

You notice the muscles in his jaw constrict as he steels himself and throws you a look of warning. “Peach—”

“Because if I can’t fuck Max, and I can’t fuck you, then what do you want from me?” Another step. “You’re never happy. I can never make you happy—”

“Peach—”

 “I get that this meant nothing to you. I get that.” You’re only inches away now. “But…you’re so confusing. You’re so goddamn confusing, and I never know what you really want. Sometimes I think I do, and other times…”

His lips purse shut but his eyes are soft.

“I feel like we used to want the same thing,” you admit quietly, heart in your throat as you stare up at the beautiful man before you. Your rage dwindles down to a contemplative annoyance. “And now we don’t. So…excuse me for trying to find somebody who does want me.”

Suddenly, he surges forward. Stepping up to you so quickly, and with so much power that it forces you to stumble back into the wall.

He cages you there, his broad chest brushing against yours as he peers down, features hard and unmoving.

“And you think that somebody is Max?” he sneers, almost as if mocking you. “You think that he wants anything more from you than the money you’ll make him?”

“Who cares?” you argue, but it’s weaker than you’d like. “It’s an investment, you said so yourself—”

“I am your investor. Not him,” Mr. Styles nearly barks, practically chastising you. “How could it ever be him—”

“Because he’s everything you aren’t.”

He doesn’t even flinch, instead cocking his head to the side as he smirks. “So that’s what this is? You’re trying to replace me? Trying to find somebody better?”

“Well it’s not hard.”

The Cheshire-like grin grows. “Fine, Peach. Let me ask you this…do you like who you are with him? Do you like the role he puts you in?”

Your lashes flutter. “I don’t…I don’t know what you mean—”

“Yes, you do.” His head dips until he’s fully in your space, making it impossible to know anything else but him. “Do you like how he treats you as though you’re nothing more than a means to his end?”

A breath catches in your throat. 

“Do you like how it’s never about you? Only him?”

You squirm back into the wall, once again attempting to create a bit of distance, but failing miserably as he places a hand next to your head.

“Do you like how insignificant he is?” His voice has dropped to a dangerous purr, like silk that slips across your cheek. “Or did you like it better with me?”

A question meant to trap you and you can do nothing more than stare at the buttons on his shirt as you will yourself not to gasp.

“Because I think you like yourself better in my reflection,” he murmurs, his other palm now smoothing across your hip, subtly tugging you into his body. “The way I make you beg for me. The way I touch you. Kiss you. Fuck you.”

The words weigh heavy on your chest, making it hard to breathe as his nose softly ghosts against yours. 

“Everything is better with me. And you know it. So why are you wasting your time with him? Hm, Peach? Who are you really trying to punish? Me…or you?”

And you could just slap him. You really could. Could fucking slap the dimples right off his face for being so smug.

“I’m not punishing anybody,” you whisper, nails curling into your palms to brace yourself. “I’m just doing what you told me to.”

“Well now I’m telling you to leave him.”

“Why?”

His eyes flick between yours. “Why do you think?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I want to hear you say it.”

The frown returns. “Peach—”

“Say it, Mr. Styles,” you repeat. “And maybe I will leave him. Maybe I’ll walk out of this bar, and never look back. I’ll delete his number, I’ll block him, I’ll never think of reaching out to him again. I’ll leave. With you.”

You can see the way he internalizes this. Can feel his grip tighten, can see the muscles in the arm beside your head flex.

“Just say it,” you mumble again, reaching out to brush your fingers down his chest. “Tell me what you really want. Because maybe I want it, too.”

Everything moves around you. The world, time, this moment.

But neither of you move.

And as the seconds pass, you can’t help but silently will him to finally be honest with you. To finally succumb to what he really needs. To make everything that’s happened mean something.

Then, his eyebrows weave together, and his lips turn down. “I want you to go home,” he finally says, and your heart drops so fast, it makes your head spin. “You’re drunk, and you shouldn’t be alone with him.”

“I’m not drunk,” you retort, now shoving on his sternum to create that space you so desperately need. “I’ve had one drink. And I’m not alone. You’re here.”

And maybe it’s too dark in this hallway to be sure, but you’re almost positive you see something painful flash behind his eyes.

“I won’t be for long,” he replies as he pushes off the wall and steps back. “I have other things to do besides babysit you.”

And that is your slap to the face.

Your hands ball into fists by your side. “You are such a fucking asshole. I never asked you to babysit me. I didn’t even want you here—”

“Clearly you need it,” he argues. “Since you aren’t capable of making decisions on your own. Even when you’re sober.”

You scoff so loud, it makes your throat sore. “I was doing just fine without you—”

“You were scraping by,” he corrects. “And you could do so much better if you realized that he’s nothing but a waste of time and sperm.”

Your nose crinkles as you make your way to the end of the hall, ready to rid yourself of him. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t…I can’t argue with you over the same goddamn thing. Okay, Max is nice to me. He tells me what he actually feels, and that’s something you could never understand.”

You think you see the briefest hint of disappointment, but it’s replaced just as quickly by a look of unamused indignation. “Fine. If you’d like your sex life and your career to be as mediocre as his cock…by all means. The choice is yours.”

“It is,” you agree coldly, ready to turn on your heel and run. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Styles.”

With that, you exit the hallway, leaving him behind.

And he lets you.

The following day, things aren’t as awkward as you expected. Mr. Styles doesn’t mention your run-in at the bar, nor does he attempt to restart the conversation about Max.

He treats you the way he did when he first hired you. With nothing but professionalism and distance. 

At first, you’re thankful. There are no more sly comments or lingering stares at your chest. He follows your terms to let you make your own decisions. He lets your business be yours.

And he’s nothing more than your boss.

But as the days progress, you can’t shake the nagging thought that something bigger is afoot. Almost as though something is wrong. Off.

Maybe it’s just in your head. Maybe you want to believe he’s more affected by this little falling out than he pretends to be.

But you’ve known him for over a year. You know what it looks like when he’s upset, and this…this is not it.

However, you decide to push away the inclination altogether, and carry on with your work as usual. Because even if something is wrong, it’s none of your concern anymore.

That is until Nadia mentions it over lunch.

“Listen, he’s a very complicated man,” she says when you comment on his odd behavior, waving her salad fork through the air. “He tries so hard to appear uninterested, but I know it’s just an act. Nobody is that heartless.”

You swirl your French fry around in your ketchup, mulling this over. “I don’t know. He doesn’t…I don’t think he’s heartless. I think that’s just…who he is. He has a one-track mind.”

Nadia snorts. “Please. You should have seen him before…”

Your little lunch corner goes oddly silent as she suddenly presses her lips together and winces.

“Before…?” you repeat curiously, head tilting.

“Nothing,” she’s quick to reply, dismissing the comment with a flutter of her hand. “No, nothing. He just…he was more open when he first started the company, that’s all.”

You know there’s more to that story than she’s letting on, but you don’t push. Instead nodding your head as you return to your burger, letting the inquiry rest.

However, the subject is changed for all of three minutes before she sighs, and finally says, “Okay, look, it’s none of my business. And I don’t even know all of details, but maybe this will help make your job…easier?”

Once again struck with curiosity, you motion for her to continue.

“He had an assistant before you,” she begins. “His first assistant actually. I don’t know too much because I was working the mail room. But I do know that they were really close. Maybe friends, maybe more. I don’t know. But they were close.”

You lean back in your seat, endlessly intrigued as you wait for the rest.

“And everybody loved them together. She made him so happy. He was always smiling, always laughing, always walking around the office talking to everybody. Engaging in chit chat and catching up on everyone’s lives.”

It’s odd to picture your boss so open. So…infatuated. In fact, this fantasy she’s painting doesn’t sound like the man you know at all.

You have to wonder how different things would have been if he were still the same.

“Anyway, I don’t know what happened exactly, but something bad,” Nadia sighs. “The rumor was that she was seeing somebody he didn’t like. He got crazy possessive over her, and it drove them apart. She quit, and he became this sullen, hollow version of himself. And now that’s just who he is, I guess.”

“That’s…so sad,” is about all you can offer, frowning some as she nods.

“Yeah. It was,” she agrees. “After her, he didn’t hire another personal assistant for quite some time. Until you, actually. Which was kind of surprising, and I think we were all a little worried for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, you seem to be handling him just fine, which is great. But…I don’t know. He just became very…cold. Distant, I guess. Doesn’t really create personal relationships anymore.”

You have to admit that this makes sense, although it doesn’t exactly help make things any clearer for you. “That must have been hard for him.”

“Yeah. And maybe he taught himself not to care, but…I think he hides who he really is because of her,” she admits with a shrug. “Which sucks. ’Cause he’s such a good guy, deep down. He just…he’s afraid, I guess.”

You hate the way your heart breaks for him. Hate the way this humanizes him. Hate the way it makes you second guess every interaction the two of you have ever had.

“Does he ever talk about her?” you ask next.

“No, never. I don’t even remember her name, to be honest. It was forever ago. Five or six years, at least.”

“Wow.”

“Mhm. As far as I know, he doesn’t date, either. I think he fucks around a bit. I mean, he’s a guy, after all,” she teases. “But he doesn’t really do anything…meaningful. Maybe he doesn’t know how anymore.”

Your stomach twists around an invisible knife. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” she hums, digging back into her salad. “I don’t know. If he’s being rude, just tell him to fuck off. That always works for me.”

You laugh as the subject is dropped and the two of you carry on with your lunch.

But you think about it for the rest of the day, the information following you back to his office where you’re quick to find that he’s left for the afternoon. 

So, you sit with this discovery as you go through your tasks. Unable to stray from the thought for very long before your throat constricts, and you feel a wave of disappointment.

You text him as you’re leaving for the evening. A simple, “Finished prepping the presentation. Hope you’re okay,” before you tuck your phone away and head home.

Hours go by without a response. Not that you really expected one, but you can’t help feeling slightly guilty for the role you played in pushing him to open up.

And no matter how out of line he was, or how justified you were in asking for his honesty, you know how hard it must be for him to be honest with you.

Especially if what Nadia said is true.

After messaging Max for a bit about your upcoming video, you decide to run yourself a bath, letting the bubbles fill the tub as you watch the water rise.

You’ve barely slipped out of your socks when your phone vibrates on the porcelain sink, making you jump some at the sudden noise.

The familiar name flashes across the screen, making your heart skip as you hesitantly hit the green button and bring the phone to your ear. “…hello?”

“You did it, didn’t you?” Mr. Styles says, but even through the static, you can hear that there’s something off. 

“Did…what?” you ask hesitantly.

“You fucked him,” comes the reply. Blunt and void of any civility. “Max. You fucked him, didn’t you?”

With narrowed eyes, you turn the water off and step out of the bathroom. “I don’t believe that’s any of your concern—”

“So, yes,” he answers for you. Then, you hear him chuckle to himself. However, there’s something chilling about the way he laughs. Bitter, almost. “You’re very easy to read, Peach.”

You can feel your expression fall into one of annoyance as you lean against the wall in the hallway. “Mr. Styles—”

“Was he good?”

You glower. “Mr. Styles—”

“I already know the answer is no,” he continues. “Even your own fingers would be better, but…maybe I just wanted to hear you say he wasn’t.”

You contemplate this for only a moment before you cautiously ask, “Are you drunk?”

You can hear the subtle slur slip through the speaker, and your eyebrows raise as he snorts.

“No, I’m curious,” he retorts, but it makes your heart pound. “And I’m still a subscriber. So I want to know what to expect.”

Your stomach wrenches. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Why are you avoiding my question?”

“Mr. Styles—”

“You like to torture me, don’t you?” he interrupts, and there’s a hitch in your breath. “You always have. From the first day I met you. You were wearing that really nice dress. And your hair was up in that pretty ponytail. And you walked in like you were trying to walk into my life and ruin me.”

Your head falls back into the wall, eyes fluttering shut. “Sir—”

“And I let you,” he carries on. “I let you ruin me. I let you do the one thing I promised I’d never do, and now what? Now you’ve gone and strutted your way into somebody else’s life.”

And maybe he doesn’t know what he’s saying, but you feel this overwhelming rush of emotion, anyhow. “Mr. Styles, where are you?”

“Where would you like me to be?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Says you.”

You huff. “Mr. Styles—”

“Tell Max I said hello,” he says instead. “And then tell him I don’t mean it.”

“Mr. Styles—”

There’s some sort of loud noise on his end before the line suddenly beeps three times and the call goes dead.

And you can only stand there, flabbergasted, as you stare at your phone. Wondering what the hell just happened.

You’re frozen for a good minute or two, running through your options. He normally doesn’t reach out when he’s drinking, at least not to you, and definitely not this late.

Maybe it’s a silent cry for help or maybe he just wanted to bother you one last time.

Either way, it breeds something unnerving in your gut as you groan to yourself and head back to your room to retrieve your shoes.

You don’t imagine he’s out. He has to be at his apartment, so at least you know he’s probably safe. But you don’t know what he might do. You don’t know what that sound was, and if he’s managed to hurt himself, but you don’t think anyone will be there to help for quite a while.

You grab the key he’d given you a few months ago. It was meant only for emergencies, although you’ve never needed to use it.

Tonight, however, you decide that this is as good an excuse as any.

You call an Uber to take you to his place, the lavish apartment building smack in the middle of downtown, quite a bit away from you.  

Thankfully, the traffic isn’t too bad this late at night, and you’re grateful for the quick trip as you’re brought to a stop just outside the sidewalk in under thirty minutes.

You jump out, greet the doorman, and book it for the elevator before hitting the button for his apartment at the top of the building.

It’s a good three-minute ride before you finally reach his floor, and once those doors open, your heart leaps into your throat.

Even the hallway is exquisite, and your dirty Vans squeak along the newly waxed floors as you approach his apartment, and fumble with the key.

You unlock it as slowly and quietly as you can, hoping not to startle him if he is in fact inside, and the moment the door is cracked, you call, “Mr. Styles? Are you here?”

Everything is dark as you enter. Not a single lamp to be seen, only the soft glow of the city lights outside of his many large windows, and the pale shadow of the moon cascading across the floors.

You see silhouettes of furniture, walls, and a few appliances. Enough that you manage not to trip over anything as you make your way into his living room. 

And then, you see him.

The shape of his body is outlined by the window to your left. He’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall as he stares out at the tall skyscrapers before him. 

Your heart sinks as you pocket the keys and approach slowly. “Mr. Styles?”

He’s still. Deathly still, in fact. As if he hasn’t even heard you. He doesn’t even bother to look over or investigate your presence.

And then, he murmurs, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Your breath hitches.  “Maybe not,” you reply quietly, taking another cautious step. “But I was worried about you.”

He snorts, arms slung over his knees, a crystal glass in one hand that’s only got a few drops left. “How nice.”

“Mr. Styles,” you try again, “are you all right?”

Now close enough to catch a glimpse of his profile, you see the sweaty hair matted to his forehead. The strain in his jaw and the red rim around his eyes. 

“M’fine. You can go,” he calls.

You take another step. “You didn’t sound fine—”

“Well I am, all right?” he suddenly sneers, turning to face you as you lean back. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

“It’s not pity. It’s concern,” you correct briskly. “You’re drunk, and upset—”

“Yeah? What was your first fucking clue?”

You shoot him a look of warning as you bridge the gap and hesitantly crouch down to his level. “Why are you drinking?”

“Because I fucking can,” is his reply, his normally soft green eyes now as sharp as the edge of a sword. “Is that a problem?”

“Maybe. Do you remember calling me?”

“Of course I fucking do. But I don’t remember asking you to come here.”

“You didn’t,” you agree. “But I wanted to. Because I was worried.”

“Why? Don’t you have better things to worry about now?”

You’ve never heard him sound so insecure, and you’re reminded again of Nadia’s story as you glance over his expression. “I haven’t slept with Max.”

This is the only thing that seems to reach him, his lashes fluttering as he leans back, although his scowl remains put. “Why not?”

“We just haven’t yet. We’re still planning the video.”

“So you’re going to?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“You think so.”

“I plan to.”

He scoffs beneath a quiet breath and looks back out the window. “And you needed to come here to tell me that?”

“I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you tell him again. “And to set the record straight.”

“Why? You were right, it’s none of my fucking business.”

“It’s not, but you still seem to care.”

He snorts. “I don’t fucking care who you sleep with, Peach.”

“Sure, okay. Is that why you tried to keep me from doing it?”

“I was trying to help.”

“You’d help me a lot more if you were honest.”

“I am honest. I’m always fucking honest.”

“Not about this.”

His eyes return to yours. “I told you, you can do better. That’s my honest opinion.”

“Fine.” You take a moment to study him. “Then why did you offer to help me?”

His head drops back against the wall as he mulls this over, but his gaze never leaves you. “Because you needed the help. I knew you could make more money if you just did things a little differently, and I was right.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“What else would it be?”

Your head tilts. “Why did you agree to be in the video with me?”

“You said you didn’t have anyone else.”

“Why did you get me custom jewelry with your initials?”

His teeth begin to grit, the grasp on his glass tightening some. “What?”

“The peaches would have been fine. My initials would have been fine. But you wanted me to wear your name,” you remind him. “Why?”

“I already told you, I wanted him to know who your real partner was—”

“Yeah? Then why did you leave?”

His lips press together. “I thought you didn’t care—”

“I do now. Why?”

“I had somewhere to be—”

“Where?”

“Where?”

“Yes, where? Where did you have to be?”

He seems to fight himself on the answer before finally admitting, “The gym.”

You lean back, blinking quickly. “I’m sorry, you rushed out of there to go to the gym?”

“Yes.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff as you shake your head. “Wow. No, I should have assumed as much. Makes perfect sense. Clearly that was so much more important than just telling me I made you uncomfortable—”

“You didn’t,” he suddenly interjects, shooting you this look like he’s disappointed in your response. “I left because I knew I couldn’t stay.”

“You couldn’t stay? And why the fuck not?”

“Because—” He stops himself, once again clamping his jaw shut as if wrestling with the truth. Then, he drops his head, eyes finding the floor as he glares at the marble beneath. “Because I couldn’t.”

And you want to scream because you don’t know if he’ll ever be honest with you. Don’t know what to do to reach him.

“You know what I think?” you finally huff, and he looks up. “I think this is about her.”

Confused, he glances over your expression. “Her who?”

“The girl who used to work for you. Your first assistant. The one who left.”

Instantly, the atmosphere changes, his entire demeanor shifting on a dime as he presses his back into the wall and shoots you a venomous look of intimidation. “Oh you do, do you?”

“Yeah.” You hold your ground, keep your shoulders stiff. “I think you loved her. I think you were honest with her. I think you let yourself trust her, and I think…she broke that trust.”

You can tell he’s not quite sure what to do with this, furrowed brows still knitted together. “And where the fuck did you get that?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s true, isn’t it?”

His finger taps the edge of the crystal in thought, but his contemplative expression remains. “Even if it were, what does this have to do with us?”

“Everything,” you say simply. “She broke your trust, and you chose not to get close to anyone again. But then you started helping me. And we got closer. And created a bond—created trust. And the second you realized, you ran for the hills.”

He snorts again, but he doesn’t rush to deny it.

So, you carry on. “Max coming along only made things worse for your fragile little ego. And maybe you were trying to keep it from happening again, but you did a really shitty job of it. And now here we are, sitting on your floor, saying everything but what we really mean.”

He’s angry. He’s so very angry, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, fighting himself on what he really wants to say.

You scoot closer, gently reaching out to take the crystal glass from his hand so you can place it on the floor. Then, you rest your palm atop his arm, and meet his eye.

“Harry,” you whisper, and he sucks in a sharp breath, tensing beneath your touch. “I’m not her. And maybe that’s a good thing, maybe it’s not. But I have only ever wanted it to be you.”

He’s quiet but you have his full attention. And the intrigue in his features urges you to continue.

“Even before you told me that you watched, I imagined you,” you admit quietly. “I’ve always imagined you. Your voice, and your hands, and your face. And yeah, I didn’t mind keeping things…professional. Strictly about the content and nothing more. But…you have to know I wanted more.”

Once again, the back of his head meets the wall, as if bracing himself from your honesty.

“I wanted more,” you repeat. “And I thought you did, too. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard, and maybe that’s why I tried to use Max to move on. But I never wanted Max. I only wanted you. I just…I wasn’t sure I could have you.”

He looks down at your hand, gaze softening when he sees the way it looks on his arm. Like he’s mesmerized by your touch.

“And I need you to tell me right now what you want,” you say softly. “I need the truth. I have to know if we’re running around in circles for no reason, or if…maybe we can get off this ride together.”

He’s silent for quite a long stretch, letting himself ponder a response as the apartment fills with a solemn quiet.

You study his face in the soft glow of the moonlight, wonderstruck by the sharp curve of his jaw in contrast to the soft curls near his cheeks.

Even now, he’s breathtaking.

Finally, he clears his throat. “Ellie.”

“What?”

“Her name,” he says, “was Ellie. And you’re right, I did trust her. But I ruined it. Not her.”

Now it’s your turn to listen as he recalls this memory to you, nodding gently for him to continue.

“She didn’t…she loved somebody that wasn’t me. That was her only fault,” he murmurs, once again staring at your hand as your thumb strokes his tan skin. “And it wasn’t even a fault. But I hated it. Because I wanted it to be me. And it was never going to be me. We both knew that.”

Slowly, his arm turns over, allowing your gentle touches to dance along the more sensitive skin.

You smile.

“I crossed so many fucking lines,” he admits quietly. “As her boss, as her friend. I pushed her away only to drag her back and try to keep her close. I suffocated her. I let myself need her in ways I shouldn’t have. She had every right to leave. In fact, she should have left sooner.”

You feel the tips of his fingers brush against you as he subtly grabs on.

“And then you,” he whispers, eyes still locked on where you’re connected. “I’d been doing so good. Didn’t let myself slip again, and then you came along, and everything was fucked. Because I knew I couldn’t do to you what I’d done to her. But I let myself think about you anyway. Even when I shouldn’t have.”

You can feel tears crawling up the back of your throat, and the wounded look on his face is like a fist to the heart.

“And for some fucking reason, I thought offering my advice would allow me to know you without ruining anything,” he sighs, tugging you a bit closer until your knees collide with his. “Which obviously didn’t work. And then I was looking for excuses to be with you. To have you. To touch you. Even though I knew better. Even though I had to know better.”

He takes a deep breath. Holds it. 

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he eventually exhales. “And I got scared that the only reason you felt like you wanted more was because I somehow tricked you into it. I confused you, I manipulated the situation. It wasn’t real. And I wanted it to be real. But then Max, and I got so fucking angry, and I knew I was doing it again. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to you.”

He won’t look up. He won’t meet your eye, and the hard set of his jaw makes you take hold of his other arm and squeeze it tight.

“Harry,” you whisper, but his head shakes quickly.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he barrels on, fingers wrapping around your elbow, keeping you close. “Because I can’t have it. I can’t have you. And you were right, I can’t be your partner anymore. I can only be your boss.”

You frown but it’s sad. “Harry—”

“Mr. Styles,” he corrects, finally shooting you a look of warning that breaks your heart.

But you aren’t deterred. Instead, you release him so you can wedge yourself between his legs and take hold of his face. “Harry,” you repeat, urgent but gentle. “This? It’s not the same.”

He struggles a bit in your grasp, tensing up as he tries to pull away. But it only lasts a second before he’s settling into your embrace, allowing you to guide his attention to you.

“It’s real,” you whisper. “It’s so fucking real. It was real even before you called me poor and badly dressed.”

This earns you your first smirk of the evening, and the butterflies that explode in your gut nearly make you dizzy.

“You’ve tried to push me away over and over. But I’m still sitting here, on your floor, begging you to talk to me.” Your thumbs delicately brush across the bags under his eyes, and he seems to nuzzle into your palms. “It’s not the same. You’re not just my boss or my investor. You’re my partner, Harry. And I can’t do this without you.”

His arms slowly slip around your middle, encouraging you onto his lap as his legs drop.

And you eagerly oblige, straddling his hips with ease as you look down at him.

“I don’t want to do this without you,” you murmur. “So don’t make me. Please.”

For a moment, you aren’t sure what he’ll do. What he’ll say or feel. He’s still somewhat tense, and far too quiet.

Then, he tugs, crashing your lips into his.

And it’s the most honest thing he’s ever done.

“Turn around.”

The strong command leaves no room for argument as you quickly spin on your heel, eager to obey.

Your ass is revealed to the camera. Bright red from the many spanks Mr. Styles has landed to it. It complements the dark black lingerie set he recently purchased for you, something you’re both rather proud of, and perhaps the main feature of this video.

You hear him hum his approval as he approaches, large hands slipping over the curves of your hips. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs before shoving you onto the bed. “Think it’s time we show them what a wet little whore you are, hm?”

You feel his finger hook into the crotch of the panties before he’s ripping them aside, allowing your swollen cunt to glisten for the lens.

You gasp as the cool air hits you, but it quickly melts into a desolate whine when you feel his touch ghost up the back of your thigh.

“Look at you,” he muses, palms pulling on your cheeks to spread you open, giving your audience a firsthand glimpse of your mess. “So fucking pathetic, aren’t you, Peach? And all I’ve done is spank you.”

“Can’t…can’t help it, Sir,” you pant, steadying yourself on your hands and knees as your eyes flutter shut. “Just want you.”

“Oh you do, do you?” He kneads your bruised flesh with admiration. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You squirm a bit as you whimper, desperate to lean back into his touch before he lands another smack to your thigh, reminding you to stay still.

“Yes,” you finally answer, chin meeting your chest. “Wanna deserve it for you.”

You hear him chuckle under his breath as he allows his touch to travel toward your dripping pussy, large digit pushing through your folds just to make you mewl.

“I bet you do,” he replies, running up and down your cunt to collect you. Tease you. “But we have a deal, don’t we, honey?”

You want to kill him and kiss him all at the same time.

“Yes, Sir.”

“We do.” He pats you again, this time gently. “Go on and grab it, all right?”

With a nod, you outstretch your shaky hand for the object sitting on the bed only a few inches in front of you.

Already tender and slightly swollen from the way he played with you earlier (casually and much too cruel), you feel a rush of excitement as you hand him the chain.

After taking hold of it, he moves to sit in front of you, allowing him better access to the front of your body as he motions for you to sit back on your ankles.

“You ready?” he asks quietly, eyes flicking between yours as he looks for your consent.

You nod. “Always.”

With that, he reaches for your exposed tits and begins preparing your nipples for the clamps.

You swallow a dozen whines and whimpers as he works them shut, the subtle ache quickly dissolving into an immeasurable type of pleasure.

And he’s smiling so big, like he’s so proud of you. Proud of the way you look, proud of the way you feel, proud of the way you obey.

It makes the yearning in-between your thighs that much worse as he travels the other end of the chain down to your clit.

Once again, he plays with you. Drags his fingers up, down, and through to make you writhe, and make sure you’re ready.

Then, with great care but devious intent, he slips the clamp along the base of the sensitive nerves and secures it.

You choke on a gasp, body stilling as the sensation becomes a bit more familiar. It’s quite thrilling. Not painful, but prominent. Taunting you with its power as you glance down at the way it holds you.

Harry leans back to study you, carefully observing every pull of your brows or hitch in your breath. “You okay, Peach?”

You nod, lip sliding between your teeth.

He frowns. “Color.”

“Green,” you say quickly, nails digging into your thighs as you release a heavy exhale. “It’s just…new.”

His expression softens as he reaches out to grasp onto your chin and squeeze once. “I know, my love. But you’ll take it for me, won’t you?”

And you say, “Yes,” with so much adoration and excitement that it returns those dimples to you.

His eyes drift toward the computer, checking the status of the livestream you assume before he leans forward and presses his lips to yours. 

You know your faces aren’t in the frame, but it makes your heart pound nonetheless as he offers you a moment of his affection. 

“How’s your ass?” he mumbles between kisses to your bottom lip.

You nod gently and sigh into his mouth. “Good. Sore.”

And he chuckles as he sends you a devious wink. “Good.”

With that, he stands, and begins to undo his belt as he returns to his spot behind you. He doesn’t plan to be gentle today. Not for your first live appearance, and you’re grateful for his punishing hand as it ghosts down your spine, guiding you.

It travels between your thighs, tapping them briskly as a reminder to keep them spread as you bend back over.

And once you’ve braced yourself against the mattress, you feel those long, skilled fingers nudging at you again.

“Sir,” you whisper, desperate for the friction as he keeps his touch light, merely tracing patterns along your folds while humming to himself.

“Yes, Peach?”

You swallow thickly. “Please?”

“Please?” His thumb moves up to brush over your tighter hole, and you gasp again as you await any sort of contact. “Please what?”

“Please…please touch me?”

“Touch you,” he repeats thoughtfully, as if considering it. “I don’t know. Have you disobeyed any of my rules?”

With a quick shake of your head, you glance down at the duvet beneath you, the expensive fabric soft beneath your clenched fists.

“Have you used any naughty language?” he asks, the tip of his middle finger lowering to circle through your arousal. 

“No,” you breathe.

He begins to push in, leaving your other opening alone. At least for today. “Have you called me by the wrong name?”

Not aloud, you think, biting back a smirk as you murmur, “No, Sir.”

The digit travels a bit further, the feeling of him pushing past your tight walls like heroin as you reel.

“Have you taken your punishment like a good girl?” he inquires next, and you chew on the inside of your lip as you nod.

“Yes.”

And you can’t exactly see him, but you can practically hear his smirk as he suddenly adds a second finger in beside the first, just to surprise you.

“Yes,” he agrees. “You have. Been my perfect peach, haven’t you? Guess you’re showing off for them, hm? Letting them think you’re actually an obedient little cock-whore?”

And maybe you are showing off, at least a little, but it’s hard not to obey this man. He just makes it so…worth it.

“Yes,” you call again, desperate to please him. “Only for you, Sir.”

Suddenly, you feel his fist against your scalp, scraping through your roots as he furiously yanks, forcing your head up.

“Only for me,” he nearly seethes, dipping down to press his lips against your ear. “Want you to fucking say it. Every time I touch you. Every time I make you come. Want you to say it. Remind them who you really belong to.”

Apparently, having his initials glimmer from your nipples isn’t enough, but that’s more than all right with you.

You’ll happily vow your life to him as many times as he needs. Because there’s something empowering about having a man beg you to be his.

And for the first time since you’ve met him, you realize…you’re on the same ground. Equal partners. Equal power. 

You and him.

One.

With that instruction, he curls, now stroking and thrusting into you with a fervent need to force you up the mountain. 

“Only you,” you whisper between salacious moans for relief. “Only, Sir.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, smacking his other palm against your ass before groping at the tender skin. Soothing it and stimulating it at the same time.

The pace increases, faster and faster until you feel as though you can’t breathe. Until you’re trying to meet his rhythm by rocking back into his touch, but the hand on your hip holds you steady. Makes you patient. 

“Only you.” It’s almost inaudible, released through quivering lips as you begin to slip into your first. “Only you. Only…”

He plunges in to the knuckle, beckoning you toward your release as it hits you hard. Fireworks go off behind your eyes as you keen, sweat beading around your hairline, and chest heaving.

“God, only you,” you barely manage as you fight for air. “Just you, Sir. Always.”

He takes his fingers out, allowing the world to see your come drip along the insides of your thighs. And the loss of contact makes your chest ache as you whimper and peek over your shoulder for a glimpse of his face.

He’s smug. Because of course he is, endlessly pleased with the way you’ve come undone so quickly.

Wet digits quickly outstretch for your cheeks, pushing on your lips to accentuate your already obvious pout.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns darkly. “You know better.”

You glance up at him with remorse and desperation, hoping your tiny hum will be enough to sway him. “M’sorry, Daddy.”

It’s the first time today you’ve used the nickname, and you watch the effect it has on him as he tightens his grip and scrapes his teeth together.

“Peach,” he grumbles, “don’t fucking test me. Not today.”

“I’m not. Promise. Just wanna feel you.”

And that’s the truth. It’s all you ever want. Want his cock, his time, his attention. Anything he’ll give you, and he knows this.

Because he wants you just as bad.

And maybe, if he had the strength, he’d punish you for this little game. He’d waste hours just making you wait for him. Tying you up, leaving you to beg, taunting you with something you can’t have.

But today, that would punish him, too. And you can see that he doesn’t have the capacity to go without you, not even for show.

So, he releases his hold on you only to land a very firm and sharp smack to your cheek. And it stings but it feels so good, forcing another groan as you lean back. 

“And you will,” he finally decides, settling behind you again as he begins to tug his pants down. “Gonna feel me for days, honey. Make sure you can’t fucking sit without thinking of me.”

Just the image of you in one of those boardroom meetings, legs still bruised and clenched tightly together as you sit for hours on end makes you gasp.

He’s gotten braver recently. Normally, he’s tame. Making you rest on his lap in the privacy of his office while he absentmindedly runs circles over your clit. Answering emails as he plays with you. Like it’s just an average workday.

But now he tries to tease you in public. In meetings, at lunch, when you’re apart. Making you sit with a remote-controlled toy deep inside your cunt during a meeting with the board of directors. Changing the tempo over and over again while forcing your silence. Leaving you to squirm in your seat as you silently beg him for mercy.

Sometimes he gives it to you. Most times…he does not.

You imagine this week will be no different. Especially after today. He always gets a bit more insatiable after the two of you have posted a video together. 

He’ll make you watch it in his office. His now favorite tradition. And the comments and response will encourage something in him that makes you giddy. Possessive yet proud. Like he wants to outdo himself next time. Make you come harder, longer, faster. Make everyone watching eat their fucking hearts out.

You feel the tip of his swollen cock brush down your folds, lazily rubbing against you as he alerts you of his presence.

Just the feel of him makes you breathless, back arching as you silently plead with him for more.

He won’t give it to you, at least not yet. Not until he’s had a chance to watch you soak him.

He presses his hand against it, trapping it to your cunt while gliding it through your arousal. Gentle thrusts that have you clenching around nothing until you hear him curse to himself.

“Beg me,” he calls, grasping onto your ass cheek to pull it apart, allowing him a better view. “Beg me to fuck you, Peach. Beg Daddy to make it better.”

“Please,” you comply instantly, a subtle quiver in your voice. “Please, Daddy. Need you. Need to feel you. Hurts.”

“Oh, honey,” he coos, finally circling the rim of your aching hole and pushing in only an inch just to pull back. “Bet it does. Know I’ve been teasing you all day, haven’t I?”

You whine again. “I deserved it. Always love it when you tease me.”

He chuckles under his breath, and you know you’ve made him proud. “That’s right. Know you do, my love. Because you know I just wanna make it better for you, hm?”

“I know.” You attempt to wiggle back into him, but his unrelenting grip keeps you frozen to your spot. “Always do, Sir. Always make it better.”

He slides in again, further this time, allowing your body to stretch for him. Then, he slides out, leaving you to wilt as you swallow a groan.

“And I always will,” he answers, knee knocking into your inner thigh as an instruction to spread your legs a bit further. “Just have to behave for me. Think you can do that, Peach? Think you can be good for me?”

And you’ve never wanted anything more, head nodding quickly before he finally thrusts into you with such power and dominance that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Truth be told, you never know what you’re going to get with him. What rhythm will drive him. But you’ll take anything he offers. Because hard and slow or fast and eager…it’s perfect. Sets your nerves on fire and leaves you desperate and depraved.

The sounds of him pushing through and pulling out are sure to be captured by the microphone. You can’t see the computer, but you imagine the audience is loving it. They always seem to enjoy sounds as much as you do. And Harry’s sounds are the best.

Your quick breaths intertwine seamlessly with his unforgiving grunts. Like a melody for the soul, and you slowly slide down until your chest meets the mattress, although your ass stays up.

He seems to like this angle, nails scraping down your spine before he lands another smack to your cheek. “There she is.”

Both sets of clamps are stimulated as you’re pushed against the bed, making your eyes roll back every time he drives himself to the hilt.

The pain is delicious. Exactly what you’d needed, and just when you think it can’t get any better…he slips an arm around your stomach and forces you back up.

Instantly, his hand is on your throat, tugging your back into his chest as he settles you down on his cock. 

Dominant fingertips press into the sides of your neck, playing with your airways as you gasp. And for a moment, you are nothing more than his toy. Just a body for him to use, and the idea makes you clamp down on him until he groans and nuzzles his nose into your shoulder.

But you know it’s more to him than that. Know that you’re not just this thing for him to abuse and ruin. He wants to worship you. Treat your body like the divine gift it is, and even though this display of aggression is uncouth…it’s meant for you. To make you feel good. Everything he does is always for you.

“So good, baby,” he whispers, just quiet enough that only you can hear. “Fucking love the way you feel, Peach. Always so warm for me. So wet. My perfect hole.”

You shudder, nails reaching for his arm to scratch down his skin. Desperate to be even closer to him. 

His hand then drops to your chest, finding your breast and groping at it mercilessly as you cry out. The clamps are tugged, stimulating the rings, and forcing your back to arch. So many sensations are being exploited that it’s nearly impossible to think straight. Your mind is mush, focused only on one thing to keep from drowning:

Him.

“Wanna come, don’t you?” he taunts, now louder so the audience can hear. “Wanna come on my cock, so they see what I do to you?”

You nod quickly, unable to vocalize your agreement. But he doesn’t need it. He knows. Can read your body like a book, and it makes him smile into your heated skin.

“Good,” he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck before reaching down to undo the clamp around your clit. “Go.”

The moment the pressure is released, it hits you. Your toes curl, your eyes roll back, and you make so many noises, you wouldn’t be surprised if the people below Harry’s apartment can hear you.

He works you through each ripple and aftershock, perhaps hoping to send you into a third, but your body needs a moment to recharge. 

And this is more than fine with him because it gives him a bit more time to watch himself disappear into you. His favorite part.

You collapse in his hold, held up only by his strong arm that’s thankfully bare, allowing you to glance down at his tattoos.

He takes his shirt off for almost every video now. He knows that nobody will be able to recognize his tattoos, but he especially knows how much you love them. Love to lick them, trace them, stare at them.

Your perfect pastime, and you think this now as you grip onto his wrist and squeeze. 

He exhales into your shoulder before he’s suddenly cursing and pulling out, the sound of his slick cock slipping from your cunt making you whimper.

With a single pat to your hip, he growls, “On your back.”

You nearly throw yourself down onto the bed, finally able to face him fully as you’re met with the sight of his flushed cheeks.

He’s so beautiful when he’s turned on, and you feel nothing but grateful to be able to witness this sight firsthand. Even your audience is denied such a pleasure, and it makes it feel that much more special to you.

He pushes your legs apart and settles between your thighs, grasping onto his cock before guiding it toward your chest.

He never comes inside you on film. He claimed it was because they don’t deserve to see it, and you didn’t argue. You like the idea. Occasionally he’ll capture a short clip of the way he leaks out of your pussy, but it’s never posted. Instead saved just for the two of you to watch whenever you need.

So while you’ll miss feeling him inside of you today, you know that it’s worth it. You like that you get to keep something for just the two of you. You like this possessive side of him.

Love it, in fact.

Nodding at your breasts, he silently instructs you to grab them, to which you do, pushing them together as he brings his swollen and soaked cock closer.

Slowly, he slides between your tits, disappearing beneath the supple flesh as you both groan your approval.

He’s already seconds away from his own release, but he edges himself by fucking your tits for as long as he can. Staring wordlessly at the way he looks beside his initials on your nipples.

“Fuck, Peach,” he breathes, brows knitted together as his jaw clenches. “Like it like this, don’t you? Like it when I come like this?”

And you do, a soft sough of agreement all you can offer as you look down at the way his tip pokes through the valley you’ve created. The contrast of his pink flesh against your skin is beautiful. Artful, even. And it makes you smile, wider than you have all day.

His pace is slow, allowing you to feel the slickness paint your chest before he’s suddenly tensing, the muscles in his stomach contracting quickly.

You await his offering eagerly, practically panting as you watch him run his palm along his cock before he’s releasing all over your torso and chest. 

He falls forward, bracing himself with a hand beside your head while you throw your arms around his neck to keep him close.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whisper as he milks the last few drops. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You feel a shiver roll across his body at your comment before he’s smashing his lips into yours, dancing his relieved sighs across your tongue. 

It takes a good minute or two for you both to find your bearings, but once you have, he reaches toward the nightstand where the remote lies.

Aiming it at the camera, he clicks a couple of buttons, and the red light turns off, signaling that the livestream has ended.

Now alone in his massive bedroom, he grins down at you. “My sweet fucking girl. Did so well for me, honey.”

You bask in his praise, nuzzling your nose against his before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That was fun. Like it when you fuck my tits.”

“Yeah?” He’s smirking again, palm now smacking against your breast just to watch it jiggle. “Good. ’Cause I don’t plan to stop.”

Your arms snake tighter around his neck until he’s forced to lay his chest against yours. “Think they liked it?”

“I know they did,” he murmurs, face disappearing into your neck as he breathes you in, sweaty or not. “They love you, Peach. You’re so good to them.”

You press your lips into his hair.

“You’re good to me, too,” he adds quietly, sliding his hand across your body until he can hold onto you. “Always so fucking good. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

A sort of flutter happens in your stomach as you squeeze him tighter. “Ditto.”

You stay there for a few minutes at least, teetering on the verge of sleep before Harry declares you need to get clean. 

He scoops you up and carries you to his large bathtub, dipping you into the warm water once it’s ready and settling himself on the other side to face you.

You talk for what feels like hours, until you’re pruned, and the bubbles have disappeared. You go over the scene, go over what you think the comments will be, and even go over his schedule for the upcoming work week.

It’s weird the way you’ve managed to balance the relationship of boss and lover. You’re able to distinguish the two and create the appropriate boundaries. Making it easier to work together without driving each other nuts.

 Something else you’re grateful for.

You stare at his wet abs as he talks, smiling to yourself as you admire every curve of his stomach, and every nipple he has to offer.

He splashes some water at you when he realizes before grabbing hold of your ankles and sliding your closer.

You kiss until you can’t breathe, and life feels really good.

Really fucking good.

Once you’re out and dried, you make your way back to his bedroom to make sure everything from the livestream is in order.

You scroll through a few of the responses together, making mental notes of what to do next time. And once you’re both in agreement that everything looks good, he adds it to your shared profile.

Appropriately titled,

Peaches and Cream.

I have no excuse for this or explanation, I'm just gonna blame it on the sick meds I took 🙃

I already miss them but I'm absolutely going to be doing some extras and maybe that'll make it not hurt so much 😭💞

Thank you to everyone who's read and been so kind and supportive!!! You have my entire heart forever and ever, I cannot tell you how appreciative I am 🥹♥️ This has been so fun!!

Peaches and Cream forever!!

Previous Part:

~ Four to Go*

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @narry-heart @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @likeapplejuicenpeach @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @finelinesss

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry styles request #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept #harry styles smut #harry styles series #smut #concept #ceo!harry #ceorry #one for the money #one for the moneyrry #harry and peach #peaches and cream

[hotpinkstars]

i need some wriothesley pregnancy drabbles there's seriously not enough of those yet...

-> pregnancy

synopsis -> a rundown of your pregnancy with wriothesleys baby, and how supportive he is.

warnings -> pregnancy, mentions of crying and screaming, mentions of labor

w/c -> 968

wriothesley didn’t really remember the day you constantly started asking for hugs and cuddles. and the day he realized that cuddling you in the ways easiest to him are no longer an option. and, the day he knew that you wouldn’t be able to handle yourself without his help. 

yes, you’re pregnant, but sometimes he wonders if you even understand that he’s the one working here! and because he’s working, he can’t give you what you want 24/7. you do understand that though, but you just can’t help it! your hormones have changed so much over the past few months that now you feel like a needy wreck who constantly needs her husband to be touching her in some way. 

and on the other end, you feel like wriothesley doesn’t understand why you’re so needy. obviously, you can tell him why, but he won’t be able to relate. he’s a man, he can’t carry a child. and sometimes, you get mad at him for that, and so on.

but on the frequent occasions that he puts his work down for even just a few minutes to focus his attention onto you, you’re content. and he’s happy if you are. 

whether it’s a long hug, snuggling into his side and resting your eyes on the couch, or cuddling him in bed, he’ll be up for it if he’s not necessarily doing anything. he doesn’t mind putting his work down for you, but it’s not possible to leave rather important matters alone just so he can satisfy his pregnant wife. 

he knows you’re no longer able to get good sleep at night- he’s up with you through the majority of it. so, he just tries to cuddle you to at least make you feel a little better, considering he knows how much you want to just lay down, forget about the world around you, and breathe in his refreshing scent. it’s one of the only smells you can stand at this point. 

and, he mostly welcomes you when you come over to his side of the desk, and try your hardest to sit yourself on the edge of it. to say you normally get whatever you want whenever you want it is an understatement. 

when it was earlier on in your pregnancy, your clinginess seemed a lot easier to manage, he thinks. he’d just sit you down on his lap and rub your back. but later on, he can’t do that, making your neediness a little more challenging to relieve. he knows he’s going to have to take that work leave soon. 

but, don’t fret, he’s fantastic at massages. whether it’s in the bathtub, before bed, or even in the middle of the night, where you wake him up with a pool of tears in your eyes. his back and neck massages are great, but his calf and foot massages are to die for.

once, you woke him up at around 2 in the morning. at that point, you could be considered heavily pregnant, nearing that 40 week mark, and in obvious discomfort on the daily. you woke up with a charley horse, and had no way of ridding the pain by yourself. 

he’s used to you waking him up like this, so without opening his eyes, he rolled over and started massaging the soreness out of your leg. it felt absolutely heavenly, and lulled you into a shallow sleep. for now, at least, until you need to get up and use the restroom for the 80th time that night. 

poor guy will be so nervous when he comes home from work and finds you bent over the counter, breathing in and out while swaying your hips back and forth. he knew it was labor, he knew he’d have to bring you to sigewinne so she can either send you up to the overworld or deliver your baby herself, and he knew that you two were going to be parents in the next few days.

he prays your labor is the most peaceful it can be, but he soon found that there is no such thing as an epidural in the medicinal part of the fortress. it was the closest place he could take you, and relatively one of the nicest. the whole medical wing besides the simple cots sigewinne has in her room was likely the nicest part of the fortress (besides your living quarters), with a nice, clean look and the pearly white floors and walls, and could be compared to a regular hospital. 

and get this, the maternity wing was the nicest wing of the whole entire building. most people didn’t know about this secret hospital in the deepest parts of the fortress, where its mainly used for prisoners who came in pregnant and their sentence will end after their due date and surgical procedures by nurses hired on by sigewinne with the approval of wriothesley.

you were so glad that you two were immediately given the nicest room and the best nurses, who helped you as best as possible while you went through unmedicated labor. it was a grueling process, tears leaving even wriothesleys eyes every single time you screeched in pain while a particularly bad contraction hit your body like a semi truck. and considering how long it went on, your husband thought he’d pass out.

after a horrifying 34 hour labor, you were with your baby at last. at this point your legs were numb and you felt exhausted, taking a nice nap while your wriothesley held your newborn.

that day was one of the only times you’ve seen him cry in your whole life, and you wonder if he’s ready for your upcoming pregnancy announcement, nearly 3 years after the last one.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #cw pregnancy

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐀𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

You all have cast your votes and I have received multiple requests for this analysis so come get your present…the wait is finally over!!!

Disclaimer: This analysis is for delusional purposes only. Think about it. Write about it. Have hard thoughts, don’t take it too seriously. 18+

I am using traditional astrology and I am interpreting Lee Know’s house placements as if he is a Gemini Rising, it’s unconfirmed if that is his Rising Sign but it most likely is. 

Word Count: 930

I'm in love with you and all these little things...

Lee Know as a boyfriend is the type who’s heart burns brightly but his love shines quietly and his patient and ‘slow-burn’ approach to love is what makes him a beautiful partner for someone who is a late bloomer. 

There wouldn’t be a lavish outburst of love and affection but instead he loves with his presence, that’s the beautiful part about having a Scorpio Venus is when they love you, you can feel that enduring love and presence by simply having him next to you. 

When you’re sitting next to him on the couch…you’ll feel his love…when you’re in public and he lightly touches your wrist…you’ll feel his love…when he’s spooning you in the early hours of the morning…you’re going to feel his love. 

And when I say Lee Know has a ‘slow-burn’ approach to love…I mean it’s a SLOW-BURN approach and he’d be the type to yearn for you for months before even offering a hint of affection because his Scorpio Mercury makes him prone to over-thinking and over-analysing all your interactions with him. 

He’s the type to ask you out by stating along the lines of…’I have liked you for a long time now and I’ve been trying to show you but you haven’t figured it out and so now I need to tell you’...to which you’d probably say ‘You like me? I thought you were just being friendly’ to which he’d probably say…’I have been trying to flirt with you for the past year now’. 

Lee Know masks very well so he’ll probably come off as cool and collected when deep down, he’s all jittery and nervous with excitement because he has thought of every possible outcome of how this situation could end. 

(I’m playing Spotify and Little Things by One Direction just started playing and it’s perfect because it’s so Lee Know coded- it really is the little things with him). 

When you tell him you don’t have much experience or have never been in a relationship, he won’t be discouraged but instead will cherish the connection more because his Sagittarius Moon means he values honesty and transparency.

You have felt that he is important and caring enough to reveal this information too so therefore he'll do his best to keep reassuring you that yes, he is the right person and you made the right decision by allowing him to be your first.

The relationship would start off with timid acts of reassurance like sending you messages asking if you've eaten dinner or sending you pics of the meal he's made.

And then...maybe a month later he'll invite you to stay over in his apartment and you'll take the bed while he sleeps on the couch because Lee Know understands you have to learn to trust him, you have to learn to get used to his presence.

Lee Know's control issues indicate he doesn't like being startled so physical affection will be on his terms, he'll want to initiate the first kiss or the first make-out session because his Virgo Mars means EVERYTHING has to be perfect for the moment.

A service dom (he's a switch technically but heavy dominant preference) to the MAX!!! and a lover of body worship...

He might not be the type to gush and fawn but he'll make sure the bedroom is littered with your favourite candle that you absent-mindedly mentioned to him a few months prior that he remembered.

The corruption kink would then slowly creep it's way into Lee Know's affections for you because he can't help but get off on the idea that it's HIS hands, HIS mouth and HIS words that are marking your soul and that even if the relationship doesn't last...there's a piece of your soul that belongs to HIM, an experience you can't share with anyone else.

'Aww kitten, you're so sensitive...no one has touched you this way before? Then let's keep this all for me then'.

And once you're physically intimate with each other, then that's when Lee Know's obsessive, possessive and jealous traits might pop out because in his mind, he taught you the ways of pleasure...so why would you share that with someone else?

He moulded you for him.

'Oh kitten, you want to go out and find someone else? Then you'll have to learn all over again and you've only just started'.

Lee Know is just as passionate a lover as Bang Chan but it's more expressed through actions which is why sex is an important love language for him as well.

With his Moon in the 7th House, it would be one of the few times where he could drop the mask and just reveal all his pent-up feelings towards you.

It's why I don't view Lee Know as hard dom/sadist material at all because sex would be a way of exploring feelings that he simply just can't verbalise on a regular basis.

When he's inside of you, when he feels the heat of you on his skin and he can see the trust in your glazed eyes and see your skin shivering from his touch...he would just be filled with overwhelming gratitude that it's HIM and only HIM to see you in such a vulnerable state.

And he'd wrap his arms around you, kiss your forehead and gaze lovingly into your eyes as he shows you the REAL Lee Know.

'My sweet kitten, you're the only one for me...I'm the first so I have to be the last...I have too...because there's no else for me but you, there will never be anyone else but you'.

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has supported me and I have gratitude and care for all my moots and followers! Thank you for your motivation and your support, I am proud of you all and I hope you have a safe and amazing New Year!!!

Taglist: @creativechaoticloner @hipster-shiz @scuzmunkie @cherry-0420 @stardragongalaxy @berryberrytan @lyramundana @craxy-person @krishastumblernow @mykryptonitelight @ddeonghwassimp @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @whatsk-poppinhomies @junieshohoho @partywithgyu @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @hexheathen @northerngalxy @ja3hwa @michel-angelhoe @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell

#kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee minho smut #kpop astrology #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #kpop fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #lee know fanfic #lee minho fanfic #astrology observations #kpop thoughts #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #lee know imagines #lee minho imagines #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #kpop x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you #lee know x you

[thefandomdirtymind]

Casual

18 +

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Part 2

Sanji series : SFW Shiny Offering NSFW The Small Favor - SFW The Mermaid Dream - SFW The Magic of a Kiss

A/N IMPORTANT: I didn't know exactly why but I wanted to write that fun and casual conversation between Sanji and reader remembering their sexy time. But I had to put a little bit of difficulties in it and I hope you will like it. I think to do a second part but I'm not sure yet...

Warning : Mention of a lot of sexual stuff : Oral Man ! and Female ! giving receiving, small bondage, penetration, bruises.

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.  

---

The golden light of the sunrise was reflecting in the calm water when Sanji put his feet in the restaurant. Redressing his freshly knotted tie, entering the kitchen like if he wasn’t fifteen minutes late, he suddenly stops on his track. At the instant he saw you, he knew he was screwed. 

Not that you looked at him directly, way too busy with the prep for the approaching brunch, neither that you seem mad ,even if your chopped carrots should've been smaller. In fact, he clearly recalled that when he had left your bed this morning, kissing your lips one last time, your naked form reaching for his warmth. You looked quite satisfied and relaxed. 

It was not either a sudden burst of love who struck him, even if he always had affection for you, that night was from the start nothing but casual sex. 

No, the reason he knew he was himself in deep shit wasn’t either because as he watched you, he could remember every inch of your skin he had feverishly kissed and bite. The problem is if Zeff discovers it. After all, even being his sous chef and prodigy couldn’t help him with the fact that he had fucked all night long his mentor daughter. 

" Don’t stay there like if the kitchen was on fire, little eggplant, put on your uniform and start helping " The man himself ordered, busy in his own corner.

Turning your gaze of your carrot to observe Sanji, you smiled. 

" Good morning Sanji " You said, your tone letting know nothing of your previous meeting in the dark. 

" Good Morning Y/N " He replied, as he put on his white jacket, a thin smile you didn’t quite know, of his lips.

" Did you sleep well, you seem a little bit…tired" You sweetly replied, returning to your carrots. 

" Yeah I had a short night…" He confessed, watching you, a warning in his eyes. 

" If you would stick to the menu, you wouldn’t be up all night thinking about some recipe I won’t allow in the restaurant and sleep like everybody else. " Zeff declared, lifting the heavy potato sack. 

" If we didn’t serve the same stuff everyday that restaurant would be less shitty " The blond retorted, starting to peel the vegetables, his anxiety slowly melting as he returned to his usual fight with the old man.  

— 

It seemed an eternity before you could remove your cooking clothes. Due to the celebration yesterday, many cooks were sick, making your father and the other employers double their shift. Like if you needed it, with the little sleep Sanji and you had. But, as you return to the empty kitchen, already dreaming of the softness of your bed, you notice the blond chef still busy chopping mushrooms.

" What are you doing ? " You couldn’t help yourself to ask, curious as to why he hadn’t headed to his bed for a well deserved night of sleep. " You should go to bed I’m pretty sure those mushroom will still be there tomorrow "

" Well, I kind of have a hard time trying to get out of my head the idea of your dad discovering what I have done to you" He replied unamused, stress and guilt clearly eating him from the inside. " You see I have a sentimental attache to most of my limbs and other parts" 

" Sanji, I would never tell him, we have been super discret and if I recall it clearly you aren’t alone in this. I had pretty vivid memories of sucking your dick until you begged me in french to stop " You teased, sitting on the counter. 

" Like if you hadn't melted at the minute I put my mouth on you" He mocked, this time his tone almost like his usual confident self. As he abandoned his task to face you. " And I really had to remind you that cute gasp you did when I push my finger on that sweet spot you never reach yourself " 

" It’s true it was a great discover, that you proudly celebrate " You conceded showing the hickeys on your clavicle "Maybe you didn’t gasped, but, I heard you a lot moaning and groaning, particularly when I was on top" 

" I have no excuse, your vision was magnificent and the feeling was incredible ." He replied " But I still regret the death of my tie " 

" It was for a great cause, that orgasm was one of the best I had. It’s a good thing your hand had muffled my scream because I was pretty sure I would have awake all the ship" You laugh, gladly remembering being hang by the hand to the wooden bedpost as Sanji was supported your leg around his hips thrusting in you as his life depended of it. Lucky for both of you, your bedroom was at the far end of the bedrooms corridor with no express neighbor.“ I will buy you a new one since I broke it. Even if it’s, you, who had bring it in bed "

" No need, I have many that look similar. Nobody will notice. But I will have to be careful to not be seen topless for a while. I'm glad your nails are short for cooking, my back looks like I had a fight with a cat over a fish. "

" It’s your fault, my leg was already shaking and you didn’t stop, I was on the edge of passing out ! "You protest laughing. " You deserve the scratch for making me lose my mind." 

" It’s an honor I accept gladly “ He proudly said, joining you in your laugh. " I admit that my own orgasm was way better than usual, I remember you moaning quietly in my ear even if I’m not quite sure what you said." 

" Sanji, at this point I’m pretty sure I could’ve whispered to you the recipe of an Apple Pie and you would have come. You were so close, trying to keep your control, I still have a faint bruise of your hand on my hip." 

" Isn't it when I eat you out during round two that I left that mark ? I had to keep you in place pretty hard, you were rolling your hips and didn’t want to stop moving "He recalls, a huge grin now on his face. " I still can heard you - Please Sanji don’t stop, don’t stop " 

"Ha ha ha " You rolled your eyes, still smiling at the memories." Sanji, I think we both really need to sleep, but I had to know...are we okay ? I will not talk to my dad about it, you will not too and we will live with that happy memories without a problem. We are just two friend and coworker who’s during the anniversary of their restaurant decide to casually fucked. Right ? " 

" Yes, exactly," He confirmed, cleaning his area. 

" Perfect, good night Sanji " You said, kissing his cheeks before jumping off the counter and exiting the kitchen. 

" Good night Y/N " The blond replied, watching you go.

Now he knew  he was totally screwed. Even though he hadn't truly lied, he was now reassured that your father will never know. He knew that he wasn’t clearly okay with this casual arrangement anymore. He knew at first that it wasn’t the idea of the century but after that night and the sweet way you look at him, always caring for him when nobody seem to, he couldn’t hide the issue anymore, he was slowly falling for you and he already know it, it's will hurt like hell.  

---

Part two ?

#opla!sanji x reader #sanji x reader #one piece netflix #opla #opla sanji #vinesmoke sanji x reader #one piece #one piece sanji #opla vinesmoke sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #opla sanji smut #sanji smut #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji imagine #sanji fanfic

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 3: Pyre

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

GIF by @hotdcentral

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon. You struggle with the passing of your mother.

Hello! My apologies for the wait. My laptop broke, so I had to go get a new one. It took me a bit to set it all up how I like, and then I had a busy time of it at work + a bit of writer's block. I hope the chapter makes up for it! Keep in mind there are some untranslated bits of HV in here, but I'll make a post + link transcribing all that for those who want. Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for giving this the go-ahead!

TRIGGERS: character death, exploration of child grief, dysfunctional family dynamics.

It is very quiet now that Mama has died.

Brella is quiet. Septa is quiet. Ana and Peony, the maids who come to make your bed neat again and pick up all the dresses you’ve worn, are quiet. Ser Harrold is quiet—but then, he usually is. None of Papa’s guards seem to want to make a sound now. Neither do Papa’s Councilmen, like Lord Corlys or Lord Lyman, who you sometimes see walking down the halls with very sad looks upon their faces.

You wonder if, when Mama died, she took a part of all these people with her.

She has taken a part of Papa, and of ’Nyra, too. Suppertime is so very quiet that you are afraid to breathe in case everyone can hear it. They both just stare at their plates, eyes puffy and red like yours are when you cry, which means they have been crying, too. They eat their food like someone else is moving their mouths, and when they swallow, it looks like the most painful thing in the whole world.

Papa and ’Nyra haven’t spoken to you since the day of the tourney. You try not to be sad about it, but it’s hard. Now that Mama has gone away, they are your family, and it hurts that your family won’t look at you or say anything to you. It’s almost like they have forgotten all about you.

“They’re grieving,” Alicent tells you, taking your hand in hers as you walk towards the Sept. The stairs are very hard to climb, so she had to help you up, and it was nearly like having Mama again when she pulled you into her arms and held you tight. “Their sorrow has made them blind to all else.”

You don’t really understand what she means. “To me, too?”

“Hm?”

“Their sorrow. It’s made them not see me?”

Alicent stops. Something very soft and sad makes her face droop, and she bends down so that she can look you right in the eyes. “Oh, Princess. They see you. And they love you. But your mother”—she takes a breath that sounds shaky—“she was very important to them. They miss her very much.”

“I miss her, too.” You wonder when Mama will return. How long is ‘never’? No one has ever explained it to you. Hopefully it is soon.

“I know you do.” Alicent stands and grabs onto your hand again, leading you toward the table where so so many candles are.

The room is very hot, all the little fires making you sleepy even though it is only morning time. There are two stools right before the table, and Alicent kneels on one. You try to do the same on the other, but it means you cannot see the candles anymore.

“How about you stand on it instead, Princess?” Alicent asks. She lets you hold onto her shoulder so that you can get up on the stool like she said, which makes it much easier to see. Then, she folds her hands together in front of her chin and bends her head, so you do the same.

It isn’t very interesting to stare at your fingers at first, but after a while, it’s nice. You count all the little folds in your skin—there are a lot—and trace the edges of your thumbnails with your mind over and over. Time goes funny, and you cannot remember why you were ever sad before you came here.

It might be minutes or hours or days before Alicent speaks. “Would you like to light a candle? For your mother?”

“Why?” you ask, frowning. Is candle-lighting how to get Mama to come back? Will she see the light and know it’s me and return with baby Baelon? Is that why so many people pray in the Sept?

Alicent picks up a candle that hasn’t been lit. “To remember her. You light the candle and… she’ll see it.”

“From where?”

“From one of the Seven heavens.”

“Where’s that?”

“I… do not know.” She stares at the candle like she is trying to light it without moving. “Somewhere far away. My mother is there, too.”

“Oh.” She sounds very sad, so you reach out to grab hold of another unlit candle. “Can I light this one? For Mama?”

That makes her smile just a little. “Of course, Princess.”

Alicent takes one of the lit candles and tilts it into yours, making sure not to spill any of the hot wax on you. You hold very still, because fire is dangerous which means you can get hurt, even though you touched it once and it didn’t feel like anything but warm. The little string at the top catches fire, burning orange and gold and swaying gently.

She lights her own, too. “Now, you place it on the altar, like so.” She carefully sets both candles down and closes her eyes for a moment, and you think she must be thinking of her own mama.

You nudge your candle back to where you took it, watching the flame dance about. I lit a candle for you, Mama, so you can see it. Do you? Do you see me?

Where are you, Mama? When are you coming back?

The candle doesn’t answer. It just sits there, the little fire bobbing about and then finally falling still. All you can hear is the sound of your own breathing. When you are done, Alicent helps you step off the stool, and you leave the Sept with the candles still lit behind you.

Just outside, you find Uncle Daemon waiting for you.

While ’Nyra and Papa are grieving and Papa’s Council are planning and everyone else is doing whatever it is they do away from you, Uncle has been making sure that you are ‘well’ by telling you stories and teaching you more High Valyrian and sitting at the table to watch while you and Brella play with your dolls together. He never stays for a long-long time, but it is still very nice.

“Farewell, Princess.” Alicent lets go of your hand and turns to curtsey to Uncle, who bows his head but says nothing, just stares with a not-exactly-kind look on his face. Then, she leaves, her footsteps fading away and then dropping as she goes down the stairs. You listen until the noise disappears entirely.

Uncle’s brow raises. “What were you doing in the Sept with only Hightower’s daughter for company? Where’s your sister?”

He never calls her by her name. You wonder why, sometimes.

“She took me because ’Nyra is napping again from crying so much, and I was by myself. So, we went to the Sept so I could light a candle for Mama,” you say quietly. “So that she’ll see it and come back.”

At that, he softens. He crouches down so you can see his face more clearly. “She’s not coming back, sweetling. You know that, don’t you?”

“Why not?”

“She…” He grunts. “Do you remember the stories about Aegon the Conqueror, and his sister-wives Visenya and Rhaenys?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Right.” He rises, gripping you below your arms and lifting you high so that he can carry you away from the Sept. It makes him uncomfortable, though you don’t know why. “Tell me what happened to Rhaenys.”

“She tried to—to get Dorne to say that Aegon was their King, so she rode Meraxes to them.” Uncle hums approvingly, so you keep going. Your voice wobbles with each step he takes. “But they were angry at her for burning the grass and the trees and the buildings and the people and the sheep and the horses and th—”

“Yes, yes, she lit Dorne aflame.” Uncle rolls his eyes. He bounces you extra hard in his arms so that it feels like you’re about to fall, and you squeal and wrap your arms tight-tight around his neck so that you don’t. “Leave the boring bits out. Tell me the rest.”

“She—Dorne took a big, big arrow and hit Meraxes in the eye, and Rhaenys and Meraxes fell all the way to the ground from up high and died.”

His lips twist at the way you say the last word. “You’ve been paying attention. Good girl.” You’re out in the courtyard now, away from the Sept. It isn’t any louder out here, which is strange, because it is usually always loud and full of people. “Did Rhaenys ever return to Aegon and Visenya?” he asks, moving towards the doors that lead to Maegor’s Holdfast where your rooms are.

“No…” you say, unsure. You don’t think she did. “Why didn’t she go back?”

Uncle sighs, slowing down so he can look at you properly. “That’s what it means to die, sweetling. Rhaenys didn’t go away. When she hit the ground, her body ceased to function. She stopped seeing, feeling, thinking, moving, breathing. She became… nothing.” Your belly twists. You don’t like what he’s telling you, not one bit. Whatever your face is doing, it makes Uncle keep talking. “It’s like your dolls—you can touch them and see them, can’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“But when you speak to them, do they speak back?”

“No.”

“Do they have beating hearts?”

“No.”

“Do they eat or piss or shit?”

You gasp. “That—that’s naughty, kepus!”

He rolls his eyes again. “No, they don’t. They’re things, not people. And your mother… she’s no longer a person. She’s a body; one we must put to rest today.”

The funeral is soon. Uncle has been reminding you lots and lots, and when you asked, he said a funeral is what people go to so they can say goodbye to the person who has died and put their body back where it is meant to go. And because Mama is a Targaryen like you and Uncle and Papa and ’Nyra, her body has to be put on fire so that she can go back to the wind.

She’s not a person anymore. She’s a nothing. It scares you.

You sniffle. “But… I don’t want her to be gone like Rhaenys did. I want her back.”

“I know.” Uncle hugs you then, pulling you so close that your nose gets stuck in all his hair. When you breathe in, all those hairs go up inside your nostrils and make them itch. You hope he never lets go. “I know.”

Put on the dress, then sit in the carriage, then walk up the Hill, then stand quiet. Put on the dress, then sit in the carriage, then walk up the Hill, then stand quiet. Put on the dress, then sit in the carriage, then walk up the Hill, then stand quiet.

You keep saying it over and over in your head, just like Uncle had said. He is the only one who would tell you what is going to happen at the funeral, because he knows that you like to know things even when you’re afraid of them. It makes you feel better, makes you feel a little less scared.

Uncle never told you how many people would be here, though.

Everyone comes to watch you and ’Nyra and Papa and Uncle walk through the Keep to the carriage—the maesters, the maids, the pageboys, the lords and ladies that like to stay in the city—but they stay silent as you pass. You wonder if pressing yourself against the wall and thinking really hard about being made of stone will turn you invisible, which is when you can’t be seen. You wish you could. There are too many gazes on you, and it makes all the hairs on your arms and legs and neck stand up. Uncle has to press you forward when you slow down to look for an escape.

You sit in the carriage beside ’Nyra while Papa and Uncle sit at the front, because Papa is the King and Uncle is his heir. She is very pale, almost blending with her hair except for her red eyes. You slip your hand into hers and she squeezes hard, but you try not to show her that it hurts. She looks less sad holding onto you, so you don’t mind at all that her fingers pinch.

It is the first time in a long time that you have been able to see any of the people outside the walls of the Keep. Before Mama died—before Mama’s belly got too big and she had to stay in bed—she used to take you just beyond the gates to where the really poor commonfolk would line up every sennight on the day of rest to get their alms, which Mama says is an important part of being good. She would say that you have to give coin and food and whatever else the people might need so that they are well and happy, because that means they will support the King’s reign and be peaceful. You don’t know what that means, but Mama is always right.

You miss it—giving people things, letting them pat your cheeks or your hair and calling you the People’s Princess. Because Mama is Queen and giving alms is what the Queen is meant to do, no one else could take you when she stopped going out of her chambers. And, when you went with her, the people were always very loud and cheerful and smiling, and they thanked you with tears in their eyes when Mama let you give them the pouches of coin yourself.

As the carriage takes you through the city today, the commonfolk are quiet.

None of them are smiling, or happy. They watch on as the horses take you through the streets, and some of them even cry when they see the long box that the cart ahead of you is carrying. It is the biggest, nicest box you’ve ever seen, made with dark wood and borders that look like real gold, glinting in the sun. Uncle told you that the box has the bodies inside it, the ones of Mama and baby Baelon.

You think that the people miss Mama very much. Maybe they miss her almost as much as you do—but not the same amount. You think you miss Mama most of all, even more than Papa or ’Nyra, because at least they have Lord Otto or Lord Lyman or Lord Corlys or Alicent or Betha Strong or Ser Harrold to keep them company. All you have is Mama and sometimes Uncle, and now Mama is gone.

After a while, the carriage starts to take you up and up, which means that you are almost at the point where you will need to stop and get out and walk the rest of the way. This is because the horses cannot pull so much weight up Visenya’s Hill. Uncle said it would be hard for you to walk, being so small when the hill is so large, but that you have to so that everyone can see how brave you are. “Targaryens don’t show weakness,” he says.

He is right—the walk is hard. At first, when you get out and take ’Nyra’s hand and start to follow Papa up the hill, it isn’t so bad. But then, it gets steeper and steeper, almost so steep that you feel like you need to use your hands to climb the rest of the way. Your legs burn so much that you want to cry, but you don’t. Uncle said you cannot be carried, either, so you don’t ask ’Nyra to pick you up. You must be brave. You must be brave.

By the time you reach the top, the men who were made to carry the box have opened it up and taken out the things inside. There are two funny-shaped objects covered in brown cloth lying in the middle of the pyre that has been built for the funeral—one is big, bigger than you, while the other is very small. They are the bodies of Mama and Baelon, and you have to hold on tight to the memory of Uncle’s words to keep from running over and trying to shake them awake.

“What remains of them will be set upon the pyre, yes—but remember, they’re not people. They’re just skin and bone and meat now. You must let them burn as all Targaryens burn.”

’Nyra’s hand feels like ice around yours as a man in a strange dress with a hood comes forward, past all the lords and ladies and past Uncle and Papa to stand right in front of the pyre. Two other men wearing dresses that look almost the same go with him, but stay one step behind.

“Tubī Arryno Lentro Dārie Aemme se Targārio Lentro Dārilaros Baelon perzyrty mōrqittot…” he says. You don’t know all the words, but you think he must be talking about the way Mama is a queen and baby Baelon is a prince, which seems silly to mention now that they’re not real anymore. “Sȳndor zijosy rēbarose, Dāria Aemma eglio ilvot trēso Dārilaros Baelon zȳhos gūros se tegot…”

Syrax is standing on the very top of the hill above everyone else. Because it would be very rude to look around at the others—Papa’s Councilmen and Alicent and the men who live on Dragonstone, your family’s special home, and Princess Rhaenys too, who is very scary, as well as so so many people you don’t know at all—you keep your eyes fixed on the dragon, admiring how pretty she looks in the sun. Usually, she makes lots of noise and is very mischievous, which is another word for naughty, but today she is quiet like all the rest. You wonder how she knows about funerals when she cannot speak in Valyrian or the Common Tongue or any other words that people can understand.

“Targārio ānogro rȳ ōrbrar ojāris, sētenondi hen ībī iemnȳ nȳmas,” the man says. His dress has what looks like an eye sewn on the chest, which seems an odd thing to want to wear. No one else in the Keep wears eyes.

The two men behind him step up with jugs in their hands, and they walk around the pyre pouring what is in the jugs over the cloth. It turns the brown even darker brown. After they bow, they move back, and no one speaks for a while.

Finally, the man with the eye on his chest says one last thing. “Hen perzȳ sīdas. Va perzȳ āmāzissi. Hen prānot istas, vapār drējī mōrī iksis.”

Something about fire, you think. Maybe he is saying your House words in High Valyrian. Fire and blood.

It is silent then, nothing but the sound of the wind whistling filling your ears. Everyone is still, from the lady with the kind eyes that remind you of your own on the other side of the pyre to the funny men to the side. No one speaks. You wonder what is supposed to happen now.

Uncle puts his hand on your shoulder, leaning in to whisper in ’Nyra’s ear. “They’re waiting for you.”

At first, you think she hasn’t heard him—she doesn’t move or do anything at all, just keeps staring where Mama and baby Baelon are. You nearly jump when her fingers tighten on yours. “Ñurho valonqro paghyro jēdunna, lo tolijī kepa ñuha kirimvī rhēdos pendan.”

My brother lived, father found happy. It makes no sense, but Mama told you once that it is rude to listen to other people’s conversations, so you try not to listen too hard.

Uncle speaks too low for you to hear him, to which ’Nyra replies with something you do understand. “Trēsy dōrī kesan.” I will never be a son.

She sounds very, very sad. Poor ’Nyra, you think. I will never be a son, either. I’m just a daughter, a girl, like you. Maybe Papa would be happier if ’Nyra or you had died instead of Baelon, if your body was wrapped in the brown cloth on the pyre and you weren’t real anymore.

’Nyra lets go of you. She looks to Papa, but all he is doing is staring at the pyre where Mama and Baelon lie. Her face is very red, which means she has been crying. When she steps forward, Uncle takes your hand and pulls you back to stop you following her. He is warm, so you try to hug onto his leg in a way that doesn’t make you weak like he told you not to be.

Syrax makes her chirping noise, all of a sudden paying attention to what her rider is doing. ’Nyra tries to speak, but it doesn’t come out. “Dr…”

She looks at Papa again, so you do too. He still hasn’t looked away from the pyre. You wonder if he knows you and ’Nyra and Uncle are even here, because he hasn’t so much as glanced at you since the night he came to your rooms and told you that Mama and Baelon had died. Not once.

“Drakarys.”

Syrax rumbles, and then begins to climb down toward all the people. For a moment, you’re worried she might try to eat someone, but the Dragonkeepers are here with their spears to stop anything bad happening. She opens her mouth, and fire comes bursting out.

The pyre lights up, and Mama and Baelon disappear in bright-white-orange.

“Mama?” you whisper, eyes stinging and throat feeling strange, like you want to be sick but not. “Mama?”

The only thing that you can hear is the sound of burning.

Papa bends his head, and ’Nyra looks away. You think that you may be the only one who keeps watching the fire as it takes your Mama away from you forever.

(When you are grown, you will not remember this day. You will not remember the ache in your bones or the wind in your hair. You will not remember the faces of the commonfolk you passed along the way, or the sorrow in Rhaenyra’s voice when she called down dragonfire upon the hill. You will not remember the cold that leached into your blood as you stood beside what was left of your family, a slow freezing that will take its toll over the days and moons and years of your existence.

Even so, the sight of the bodies on the pyre and the smell of burning flesh will remain etched into the very fabric of your person forevermore.

At night, you will sometimes feel as though ash clings to your tongue, the taste of rot lingering in your mouth. In dreams, you will see brown cloth and a faceless babe wiggling beneath wrappings as it burns to nothing. You will wake in a panic, near to choking on the air you cannot seem to make yourself breathe, looking about wildly in search of the horrors that had plagued your slumbering thoughts. Melancholy will follow you, lurking just beyond reach, haunting, nameless.

But you will not remember this day.)

After the funeral, Uncle Daemon leaves.

You don’t know why, because he didn’t say goodbye and no one will tell you anything. When you ask ’Nyra, she tells you she doesn’t “want to talk about him” and walks away with Alicent. You ask Brella, but she just says, “Not right now, Princess.”

You don’t ask Papa, because he is still grieving for Mama and baby Baelon. For you, that means he doesn’t want to tell you about anything at all. But whenever someone says Uncle’s name in front of him, he gets very, very angry and storms off with his boots making a lot of noise on the ground, so Uncle must have done something very naughty.

A big ceremony is happening today, though, which makes it harder to be sad that Uncle isn’t here. ’Nyra told you that Papa has decided to make her the heir, even though Uncle is supposed to be. Maybe that is why he left. It has been very busy in the Keep because everyone came for Mama and Baelon’s funeral, but they are being made to stay for the ceremony so that they can swear fealty to Papa and ’Nyra. And, for the first time ever, you have a special role, too.

“… promise to be—to be faith–faithful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhae-nyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall def—defend them against all e-ne-mies in good faith and without de-ceit. I sw–swear this by the Old Gods and the New.”

Alicent claps, smiling. “Well done, Princess! Much better!”

’Nyra comes out from behind her screen wearing a pretty red dress, like the colour of the dragon with three heads on your House sigil. “Just try not to stutter so much, little sister.”

“Trying,” you say grumpily—the words are hard—but ’Nyra isn’t paying attention. Instead, she is looking into the mirror as Alicent helps her with the laces at the back, staring at herself in a way that doesn’t look very happy.

Alicent stops and hugs her. “You will be fine. This is what you were born for.”

“I wasn’t, though,” ’Nyra says, frowning. “Was I?”

They both go quiet, so you say, “You look very nice today.”

That makes ’Nyra smile, finally. “Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for Alicent to finish lacing up her dress and helping her with her gold cape and jewels. When she is done, ’Nyra leaves the room and Alicent moves toward you so she can take your hand. “Come, Princess,” she says. “Let us walk to the Great Hall together.”

When you get there, the room is full of people. You wonder if every single lord and lady in the whole of Papa’s kingdom is here, all together in this one place. It is only because you are a princess that you don’t have to stand with all of them, and Alicent leads you over to Ser Harrold so that you can stay next to him by the Iron Throne. There is even a little chair just for you there, in case your legs get tired.

“Princess,” Ser Harrold says. His voice is funny, like a growl, and it makes you giggle every time you hear it. And, every time you giggle, he smiles, which makes all the wrinkles on his face deeper, which is even funnier. He does it again now.

A big bang at the door has everyone go very quiet.

“Presenting—Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen!”

No one speaks when ’Nyra comes through the doors all by herself, chin lifted straight up and walking down the middle of the two groups of people. Everyone stares at her, even Papa, and you think that it’s only right that they do because she looks so so pretty today. She curtseys to Papa at the bottom of the Throne, and then turns to face the people.

Without a word, Lord Corlys comes forward and kneels. “I, Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark, promise to be faithful to King Viserys and his named…”

You decide to sit in the chair while you wait. All the lords here have to say the same words you do when they pledge fealty, but you are going last because you’re the most important person to say it, which is what Alicent told you.

Lots of men and some ladies come up to the front to kneel and say the words to ’Nyra while Papa watches. It takes a long time, so you spend it looking around at all the different faces and dresses and coats that you can see. There are all sorts of things sewn onto the chests of people’s robes—you see a black stag on a yellow coat, a yellow lion on a red one, a grey wolf on a white one, a flower, a bird, even some boring ones like plain stripes or dots. Some of the ladies are wearing dresses that look very strange—the neck comes far far down so you can almost see some parts that are not proper for a lady to show. When those ones say the words, most of them are actually saying them while looking at Papa instead of ’Nyra, which is very rude because today is all about ’Nyra and not Papa. No one tries to make them stop, though, so maybe only you notice it.

When it is your turn, Ser Harrold taps you on the shoulder. All of a sudden, you feel very scared. So many people are looking at you now, and it makes you feel small and weak like you’re going to be smacked if you do anything.

But you must be brave. If Uncle were here, you’d want him to be proud of you.

You kneel in front of ’Nyra a little closer than everyone else did, but you think that no one will mind very much because you are her sister. Besides, your legs are feeling very shaky, and you might fall over if you have to go any further.

For a moment, the words won’t come out and you panic, but ’Nyra smiles. It is the only smile she has shown the whole time, and it’s just for you.

You find the words.

“I promise to be faith-ful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhaenyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall defend them against all e-ne-mies in good faith and without… deceit. I swear this by the Old Gods and the New.”

You rise up, feeling like water is rushing in your ears, almost like it does whenever you have to take a bath. A sound like a heartbeat is all you can hear as you walk back to your spot, but you don’t sit down. ’Nyra said that you have to stay standing for the final part, the words that Papa has to say.

Your sister turns around to face the Iron Throne and bends her head to Papa. He says nothing.

Then, Papa stands, his sword Blackfyre in his hand and pointing down into the ground. “I, Viserys Targaryen, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm”—so many titles go after his name, you think, glad that you only have ‘the People’s Princess’ after yours—“do hereby name Rhaenyra Targaryen Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne.”

Everyone bows their heads, so you do, too. When ’Nyra turns around, all the lords and ladies and knights and guards clap.

Beyond the noise in the hall, you think you can hear a dragon roar.

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[seungmoonandstars]

𝒮𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 7.1k

rating: Mature, NON-explicit (part 2)

→ PART ONE

Part 2 of 4

The sun is coming through the trees and leaving freckles of light over Seungmin’s face and chest. His eyes are closed, hands propping him up as he leans back and stares up at the sky.

You’ve been meaning to ask the question bouncing around in your head for several minutes, but you can’t stop staring at him like this. You reach out and gently shake his foot until he looks at you.

“Hey, sorry…I didn’t mean to get quiet.”

- Seungmin is tired.

Car rides are his worst enemy if he’s trying to stay awake, especially if he ends up in the backseat. His head keeps swaying side to side. The ride is far too smooth, and he feels like a baby being lulled to sleep.

The car turns left, then right, then right again. He doesn’t need to feel it come to a stop to know he’s home.

As happy as he is to finally be done with traveling—for now, he doesn’t think he has the energy to get himself back on two feet.

He hits his neatly made bed immediately. No unpacking, no snack, no checking text messages. There is zero time between thinking about sleep and passing out; there is only a deep dreamless sleep.

____

It’s dark and warm in his room when he wakes up. His eyes stay closed tight, but he can feel how late it is. He knows he’s been sleeping far too long. Nobody bothered waking him for dinner or checking up on him, because that would have been useless. He doesn’t even mind that he missed the Giants game.

He feels much better now, until he looks down at his phone to check the time. The first problem is it’s already past midnight. The second problem is he has 43 notifications to open.

Seungmin scans over them to see if he missed anything important. Most of them look deletable, but a few he duly notes, and definitely needs to answer in the morning.

He opens the text from Choonhee, though.

Are you here for the long weekend?

He doesn’t mind texting her this late. He sends back a quick response without much thought: “I’m here until Wednesday!

Time to shower and eat.

Seungmin stands in the shower for a good fifteen minutes—clearing his mind, easing the tension he always holds in his shoulders— before finally, somewhere in the back of his memory, the part where he puts things and never ever remembers them…he remembers something.

“Oh…” he cups his face in his hands and scrubs at his cheeks, “shit.”

He takes his time getting out. An extra half an hour accidentally ignoring you isn’t going to make much of a difference now. Hair gets dried; fresh clothes thrown on. He clicks the fan in his bedroom so it pushes the warm air around. The cool night air is at least trying to find it’s way in.

Now he notices how hungry he is. Might as well find something in the kitchen before getting into a conversation. One that goes well, hopefully.

A bowl of oi-muchim, a beer, and his phone in hand, Seungmin makes himself comfortable on the couch. He pulls up Choonhee’s text messages again and hopes she still awake…

“Is it too late to text her? Do you think she’s up?”

He sends it off and tries not to watch his phone for her reply. He clicks the tv on and eats, but before his second bite, his phone goes off.

She won’t mind if it’s you

Seungmin hopes Choonhee’s right. And hopes you’ll still actually want to speak after two months of accidental silence.

Now he puts his food down, drinks some of his beer, and thinks…”what am I supposed to say at one in the morning?” He mumbles it to himself. But he starts typing anyway, letting his thumbs and his heart do the work. If he thinks too much, nothing will ever come out.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m texting you so late. And also sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I hope you can forgive me. I’m in town for a few days if you’re interested in seeing each other.”

He reads it and rereads it. Then sends it away. It’s the best he can do.

The rest of the night is nothing but a long wait. The nap he took served perfectly as a good nights sleep, so the next few hours are spent catching up on baseball highlights, finishing a drama, and then silently obsessing over whether or not he’ll get a text back while a new show plays out in front of him .

At 7:30, Seungmin’s phone buzzes in his hand. He’s sound asleep, but still holding onto it. It wakes him right away, but it takes a moment before he can remember where he is, and what he’s doing there. Too much sleep makes his head fuzzy, and yesterday and this morning must have been a combined eleven hours.

He looks at the notification and remembers. Only the name on the screen registers in his mind before he unlocks his phone and sits up. He shakes the sleep from his head and rubs his eyes before reading…

I would love to see you

A sigh of relief. You’re not mad. Seungmin’s heartbeat picks up in his chest as he types.

“Tonight? Or today. Any time is good.”

This reply takes a little longer. He gets up to change just in case he has to run out the door to meet you. Your reply comes a few minutes later. Seungmin reads it as he’s jumping into his shorts.

I’m free all day. Do you want to come over for breakfast?

“Come over for breakfast? Are you going to make me breakfast?” he thinks out loud. He’s hoping that’s what you mean.

“I’ll be there in an hour”

____

Your internal alarm hates you. At precisely 7:25, you’re awake. Even on the weekends, you can’t sleep in. It takes a couple of minutes before you can even think about moving, but the warmth in the room and the sun peeking in eventually forces you up. You can only take so much.

Your phone, charging on the nightstand, buzzes softly. Probably an email. It buzzes again. You thought you put it on sleep mode last night, but maybe not. It’s a miracle nothing woke you up. You grab it and unplug it…

Email Spam email Work email you never opened or cleared Instagram

Text from Seungmin

“Seungmin,” you say his name out loud in case you’re still a little bit asleep. Seungmin, who you haven’t had a text from in months; who has probably been very busy and very tired when he isn’t busy, sent you a text at one in the morning.

You open it quickly, butterflies in your stomach, and read. You read it a few times. His texts are always a little longer, never one or two words. And you always read him in his voice. You’ve listened to him singing and speaking enough now that you hear it in your sleep. You don’t have to think much about your reply.

“I would love to see you”

____

There’s little time to pick up the apartment and figure out what you’re going to make for him. You do your best with what little time you have. Shower, hair, makeup…outfit. You probably should have given yourself a little more time. Too late now, he’ll be on his way soon.

It’s been nearly seven months since your blind date, but it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. The time between his last text and today somehow felt longer. You feel like it’s going to be a first impression all over again, so you really want to give him your best. Maybe even better than last time, now that you know what you’re getting into.

In the kitchen, you start pulling things out to make, and you’re relieved to find you have something to cook for him.

You hope he likes American breakfast. You do know he likes coffee. Just a few days ago a care package came from your parents; coffee, snacks…things you miss from home. You pull out the bag of beans and start grinding.

Minutes later, or at least it feels like minutes, (the full hour, plus 20 extra minutes, has passed) you hear you phone buzz. Before you can get to it, the intercom buzzes. You grab your phone and run to the door.

“Hi I’m here”

You smile at his message and let him into the lobby before texting back, “543.” You’re surprised and a little flattered that he remembered where your building was and was confident enough to come without even confirming.

He sends a smiling emoji in reply.

Your back is against the door, eyes closed. Your picturing him walking to the elevator, pushing the button, waiting…

The elevator here is pretty slow…

He gets on and hits the 5th floor button. It comes straight up without stopping, considering the early hour. Everyone else in this building is definitely sleeping in. He turns right and walks, maybe a little hesitantly, toward your apartment, looks at the number on the door, then at your text.

He knocks gently. Three soft little knocks. You take in a deep breath; you’re more nervous than you thought you’d be. The deadbolt clicks.

When you crack the door he’s smiling down at you. You pull it open the rest of the way and stand there awkwardly for a moment. You feel like one of your eight-year-olds trying to find the right words in English. You stupidly breath out a wow and desperately hope he didn’t hear it

He stands there with one hand in the pocket of his shorts. The other hand is holding a paper bag. He swings it a little as he takes a careful step over your threshold.

“Morning.” You finally manage to say.

“Good morning,” he closes the door behind him, and his smile grows as he moves closer to you.

His face looks a little different. It’s been long enough that you’re thinking his braces have changed his smile, or maybe he’s just gotten older. The spring sun has turned his skin a few shades darker compared to October. His hair is dark and straight across his forehead; different then the last time you saw him. You’ve also gotten used to seeing him only in videos and photos. None of that does him justice. In front of you, he’s better—and you forgot how much better.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin reaches his hand toward you as if he’s going to touch your cheek, but he stops just short of you, and his hand falls slowly.

“Yeah, yeah…sorry,” you set your hand on your face where his hand should have been. “I uhhm,” you still can’t seem to find the right words. So much for a new first impression. Now what?

You put your other hand around his waist and pull yourself to him. You’re relieved when he reciprocates the embrace. He holds onto you for a while, not letting up on his grip.

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch.”

Even though you had plenty of old texts to return to; to re-convince yourself that Seungmin liked you and wanted to see you again, you still needed this physical reassurance. The last two months were a lot more lonely than you care to admit, and part of you was starting to let go.

“It’s okay, I know you’re busy.”

“Still a bad excuse.” He loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t let go completely. The bag he’s holding shakes a little in his hand. “I brought this for you.”

“Another gift? You’re making me look bad.” You slide away from his grip (very reluctantly) and head toward the kitchen.

“Well, you did make me coffee. It smells good.”

Seungmin follows closely behind. The kitchen is a little bit of a mess, but cooking and cleaning at the same time is not one of your strong suits. You grab a few things and toss them in the trash, the sink, the dishwasher. You don’t even realize he’s right behind you until you turn again to grab two clean glasses.

“I can bring you your coffee. It’s a mess in here, you don’t need to see this.”

“Oh I don’t mind. You are definitely a messy cook, though. You should clean as you go!”

“Believe me, I try.” You pour the cooled coffee into a glass over ice. “I hope you like this…have you ever had Kona coffee?”

Seungmin shakes his head and smiles. You briefly wonder if he realizes how cute it is, then you pour some for yourself, “I’m sure you’ll like it.” He takes it from you and follows as you lead him out of the kitchen and into the living room.

You sit. He sits, and sips his coffee, then adjusts so he’s a little closer to you.

“How long have you been in town?” You bring your knees up to your chest and turn your body to him.

“I got in yesterday afternoon, but I fell asleep and woke up very late.”

“Oh, that explains the late text.”

“Yes, hopefully it didn’t wake you. Choonhee told me you wouldn’t mind if I texted you so late.”

“It didn’t wake me up. It was a nice surprise this morning.”

He’s bouncing his legs up and down; knees are moving together, then apart, then together again. A nervous tick, maybe. All you do know is that the movement of his thighs is distracting. You tear your eyes away, and when you do, he’s looking at you.

“How have you been?” He asks, and he’s not just making conversation. The way he speaks is sincere. “Anymore blind dates?” He whispers the last part.

“Oh, no…no,” you stare into your coffee and shake your head. “Nothing special, not since our date.”

He smiles, but says nothing.

“I did keep up with you. I caught a few of your lives, checked YouTube for new videos…”

Seungmin laughs and lays his head back against the couch, “next time we don’t see each other for a while, I will call, and we can have a real live.”

“Is that a promise?”

He thinks for a moment, “yes, promise. I’ll be a better texter…also.” He adjusts and moves himself a little closer to you.

“I’ll take either.”

“I think I just…don’t know what to say sometimes. I don’t want to say something stupid, so I don’t say anything at all. And then I forget.”

“I don’t mind if you say something stupid.” You reach out and move a piece of hair out of Seungmin’s eyes. “I’d prefer it, actually. Then I can say something stupid back.”

He tilts his head and his hair falls back over his eyes. “Good to know.”

“Are you hungry?” You move his hair again.

He looks at you without answering for a very long moment. His eyes are impossibly big and dark; bottom lip a little bit red from biting down on it. Your eyes jump from the beauty mark on his cheek (you’re also thinking about how nice it is to finally see him again without makeup), to his eyes, his nose, his lips. His hair swings back down in front of his eyes.

He brings his hand up and attempts to fix his hair, but he just shakes his head again and smiles, “yes, I am. Very hungry.”

“I guess you can help me finish up,” you reach for his hand, which he happily takes, and lead him back to the kitchen. You prepped everything, but wanted it to be fresh when you sat down to eat.

“What are we having?” He looks at the counter. Four thick slices of bread and a bowl of something milky, eggs. “Oh these I can do,” Seungmin picks up an egg and holds it next to his face. “I can fry a good egg.”

“Okay, that’s your job.” You freshen his coffee while he examines the half dozen eggs in front of him. “Make however many you want.”

“Can I make all of them?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I have more if that’s not enough.”

“French toast?” He examines the milky batter next to the slices of bread. “I’ve had it before, but not for a very long time.”

“Is that okay? I can always make something else.” You turn the burner on low and let the pan get warm.

“No, I want to try your french toast.”

You reach for the butter, taking great care to reach around him by placing your hand on the belt of his shorts. He watches you closely as you dip each slice of bread into the batter, and when the butter melts completely, place them neatly in the pan.

“Nice sizzle,” he whispers. And then he laughs when you laugh. “Oh, I’m doing the eggs…” He turns his burner on low, butters his pan, and cracks four of the six eggs.

Seungmin looks at you, “I don’t want to crowd them.” He nods his head at two intact eggs. “They can wait.”

“You’re the expert.”

“They will be good, I promise.”

“Even if they’re bad, I’m sure I’ll love them.”

You hear him laugh as you tend to the French toast, shaking on the cinnamon, flipping them when they’re just crispy and brown. Seungmin ooohs at them as he seasons his eggs.

“Do you prefer maple syrup or…honey?”

“Hm?” He flips the eggs carefully and takes them off the heat before turning to the selection of toppings you’re setting out.

“Can you turn my burner off?”

He clicks it off, and Seungmin finds his way to the cupboard to get a plate. He gently sets his finished eggs onto it and cracks the remaining ones into the warm pan.

“Do you like maple syrup, or do you want honey?”

“Oh…maple syrup! And strawberries.”

“And whipped cream?”

“Dessert for breakfast…” he takes one of the strawberries and bites into it.

____

You have one dining table in your tiny apartment. It has two chairs, and it’s right next to the large picture window that sits just between the kitchen and the living room. Outside is a limited view of the city. It’s nice, though. And you can afford it.

Seungmin is watching the city slowly start to move, chin resting in the palm of his hand. He has a smile on his face–it’s very subtle on his lips, but not in his eyes. You made him sit while you got the rest of the food ready, and eventually, he listened.

“Is this enough strawberries?”

He looks at you first and smiles, then at his plate. “Yes, thank you,” he waits for you to sit before whispering jal meokgetseumnida and when you pick up your fork, he follows. Seungmin opted for maple syrup, strawberries, whipped cream. He goes for the whipped cream first, eating a forkful by itself.

“Did you make this, too?” He takes another bite of it, this time with a big piece of strawberry.

You nod.

“It’s very good, it’s not too sweet.” He cuts into his French toast now, getting a bite of all three at once.

“If everything is too sweet, it ruins it.”

“Sometimes…” he says in a singsong voice, almost a whisper.

You sneak glances at him between your own bites. He’s a quiet eater this morning, but you’re comfortable sitting there with him in the silence.

“How has work been?”

“Kind of crazy.” He takes a drink of his coffee, “we will be in Japan in two weeks, and then to the US after that.” Seungmin nods to himself and divides the four eggs between you.

They do look perfect and exactly how you usually make them. Over-easy. “That’s exciting…but I’m sure it’s very exhausting.”

He picks one up and shoves the entire thing in his mouth. You can tell he wants to speak as soon as he does it, but he chews patiently. “I wouldn’t want to do anything else, but some days it is a lot. And very tiring.”

He rests his face in his hands again. He finished his food. Now he’s looking at you with the same tired eyes he’s given you before. 

“Thank you for making time for me.” You say.

He sits back in his seat, smiles, shakes his head a little.

You look at him questioningly. His mannerism are cute, but you’re not quite sure how to interpret them sometimes. “What is it?”

“I’m happy to be here.”

“You are?” When you stand to clean off the table, he stands with you to help. You let him.

“Yes,” he bites into another strawberry when he gets to kitchen sink with his dishes. “I like you. You're...you're relaxing to be around. I don't feel any pressure here."

You look at him and smile, unsure of how to respond at first. "Thank you." It's not enough of a reply, you know that, but you're a little lost for words.

"Is that a weird thing to say?"

"No! Not at all. It might be the sweetest complement a date has ever given me."

Seungmin follows you wordlessly to the living room, and sits when you sit. You move a little closer to him and relax, hoping he continues to mimic you. And he does.

“Can I ask you something…um,” he purses his lips as he thinks, covers his cheeks with his hands. “Something personal I guess. Kind of. Maybe not really personal but-”

“Yes, of course you can.” You take one of his hands away from his face and hold it in yours. It’s starting to feel like the first date, except now he seems a little different than last time. Maybe he’s worn out from performing. Maybe it’s just an off day.

He’s looking down at his hand clasped in yours, “do you ever feel like, um…I guess it’s hard to put into English.”

“That’s okay, we can use whatever words feel best for you.”

Seungmin can’t help but smile at that, and a tiny laugh escapes. “I almost forgot, you teach kids. You do sound like a teacher.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I mean…whichever language.” You pull his hand closer to you and put your other hand over it. “I’m sure between us we can figure it out.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“What’s bothering you?” You squeeze his hands even harder.

“I don’t know if you will, but if you ever meet my friends…the other members.” He stops for a moment to look at you.

You nod at him, but at the same time you’re completely unprepared for that statement. Meeting his friends? It's a big jump from where you're at right now.

“I guess I’m worried you might like them more than you like me.” His head falls back on the couch and he covers his eyes with his free hand. He sighs loudly.

“Why would you think that?” You pull him closer and shake him a little, “Seungmin…Seungmin, what do they call you when they don’t call you Seungmin?”

You get him to laugh, at least.

“Minnie,” he looks at you through his fingers. He says it again under his breath. “Min…puppy.”

“Puppy?” you scoot even closer to him, until you can almost set your chin on his shoulder. "Puppy."

He closes the gap a little.

Your forehead is almost touching his. You hold his eyes there. Then you kiss the bridge of his nose.

He leans forward and sets his head in the space between your neck and shoulder. His hair is tickling your ear, and his lips are brushing against your skin. You’re certain he can hear your blood pumping through your veins.

He lets out a long sigh. You don’t really want to say anything, you’d prefer it if the two of you could just stay like this for a little bit longer. And suddenly thinking of him leaving again (for another six months, maybe) gives you a horrible sinking feeling in your stomach.

But you need to talk to him.

“Why do you think that?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds as he searches for the right words. “There are eight of us…and sometimes I end up feeling, uhm…”

There's a long pause while you both think. He's searching for the words; you're searching his mind and his face.

”Do you feel like you're stuck behind everyone sometimes?” You think that’s what he’s getting at. You can see it in his eyes.

”Yes, I guess so. I mean, I know I am not as popular.”

It’s a hard comment for you to respond to, but the sad smile on his face makes you a little angry. Not at him, just at every single person outside of your apartment. 

“Well, you’re my favorite.”

A hesitant smile appears.

Your hands close around either side of his face, and you graze your fingertips over his ears, “I’m sure the others are great, and I’m sure I could be friends with them someday...but they’re not you, and I already told you we wouldn’t make very good friends.”

You’re not sure why him being vulnerable and honest is suddenly, making you so bold, but you’re not going to question it. He’s quiet and calm as you speak, so you must be doing something right.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else here with me.” You hope he believes you, but you also aren’t a stranger to the hesitant feelings he’s obviously processing. “And I wish you could stay.”

“I can stay today!”

____

Seungmin falls asleep on your couch again. This time, though, he’s lying comfortably with his face shoved into one of your pillows and his curled up legs are almost on your lap. It’s a small couch.

You put a movie on, but he didn’t last more than a half an hour. It’s been two hours now, and you really don’t want to wake him. You’re certain he’ll get up on his own soon.

The kitchen is clean, the movie is over. You’re a little tired yourself, honestly, but you don’t think you could fall asleep while he’s here and almost in your lap. He’s a quiet sleeper, and he’s hardly moved, but you can hear his big sighs every few times he exhales.

He shifts a little when your hand touches his leg, but he settles back down immediately, and is out again. Even when your palm slides over his skin, he doesn’t move.

The soft buzz of his phone doesn’t wake him, either. But it’s going off again, and it’s the third time. You’re wondering if it’s important, but you don’t want to pry.

You run your hand over his leg again. Still nothing. It goes off again—this time it’s ringing. You can see the name on the screen without looking very hard.

“Seungmin…” You whisper. This time you gently drag your fingertips across his skin. “Seungmin?”

A little groan. His leg stretches out across your thigh. You squeeze his calf a bit and he seems to react, but not enough, so you gently move him and get up.

“Seungmin?” You kneel down until you’re face to face with him. He looks so peaceful and content, and while you hate to disturb him, you’re kind of looking forward to him slowly waking up. Saying his name isn’t getting through, though, so you place the tip of your finger at his temple and lightly trace a line down the side of his face.

A raspy mmm is all you get in return.

You bury your fingers in his hair and comb through it, kneading into his scalp a little. “Minnie?” You move down toward his neck, knead a little more, this time into a soft part of his shoulder.

His eyes open slowly, eyelashes fluttering a bit as they readjust to the sunlight in the room. He looks around before his gaze settles on you, and for the briefest moment he seems lost. But then he remembers where he is, and he smiles at you.

“Hi,” his voice is sleepy and raspy, like he hasn’t used it in a long time. He closes his eyes again.

“No no, eyes open.”

“I’m awake,” he mumbles.

“Look at me,” you lean toward his face until your noses are almost touching.

Eyes open again and he blinks a few times. “Are you gonna kiss me?” He asks, and the sleepiness in his voice is unbearable.

Yes, if he wants you to, you will kiss him. You lick your lips. But first, “your mom is calling you.”

“Oh, she’s probably wondering why she hasn’t seen me since I got home.”

“Do you want me to call and tell her you’re busy?”

Seungmin laughs and finally seems to be fully awake. He shakes his head and slowly sits himself up. “Do I have bedhead?” He rubs his eyes and runs his hands through his hair.

“A little bit.” You comb a hand through it and fix his part, “it’s cute, though.”

“Nooo it’s not,” he flattens it more and lays back against the couch. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“You apologize too much.”

“Do I?”

You nod and sit down next to him, “I’m glad you were comfortable enough here to fall asleep.”

“Did I snore?” He looks a little embarrassed.

“No, you were pretty quiet. You kicked a few times, though.”

He almost apologizes, but stops himself and picks up his phone. He reads through his messages and eventually types a reply to one of them. Then he turns to you, “what should we do now that I’m well rested? Are you tired?” He throws his phone down and turns the rest of his body to you, “did you sleep at all?”

“I didn’t sleep, but I’m fine.”

“Maybe you should rest,” he smiles and tilts his head. “I can leave for a while and come back, if you’d like.”

“No, I don’t want you to leave.”

He nods, “We can try another movie,” Seungmin relaxes on the couch, pillow at his side, and extends an arm. “And if you fall asleep, we’ll be even.”

You stare at him for a long moment. It’s not until he beckons you with his hand that you realize it’s an invitation to cuddle up to him. And you take it without another moment of hesitation.

Your cheek settles against his chest, open hand spread out over his stomach. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in a little tighter.

“Are you comfortable?” He grazes his fingertips over your forearm, very slowly, as if he’s still testing the limit of touch between you.

“I am.” You feel the goosebumps jump up on your skin, and Seungmin runs his fingers over you again, like he notices.

He does notice. You hear a breathy little laugh come from him. “Good.”

Now you think you could definitely fall asleep. He’s warm, but a good warm; not like the summer heat moving around the room. You push your face further into the space under his arm and inhale.

“What should we try to watch? Maybe something funny.”

He browses through Netflix. Meanwhile, you can feel yourself slowly slipping into sleep. But you don’t want to fall asleep. Sleeping now would just be wasted time with Seungmin, so you adjust yourself and sit up a little more.

He sits up, too. His eyes are big and a little worried.

“I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“Okay, how can we keep you awake then?”

You stare at him thoughtlessly for a few seconds. Then you feel like maybe you’re blushing because he probably (probably?) isn’t thinking the same thing your sexually frustrated mind is thinking. Now you can’t get the thought out of your head. You try not to breath out like you’ve just been holding your breath for too long.

He grins a little, so you think the thought may have crossed his mind after he said it. But he stays quiet.

“Maybe we can…go for a walk,” you say it as you exhale and then take a steady breath in. At the same time, your brain is slowly unbuckling his belt and lifting his shirt. “We should go for a walk.”

“Okay, that sounds nice.”

____

It’s warm out, but not enough to be uncomfortable.

You changed into something to show a little more skin, because you might as well try to get his mind where yours is. He may not even be interested in going there.

“So, are you allowed to date yet?” It comes out before you even decide if it’s a good thing to bring up.

Seungmin giggles. You look at him and see him covering his mouth with his hand, but the smile in his eyes is obvious.

“Sorry, that came out of nowhere…”

“It’s alright. You can ask me anything you want,” he shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his walk a bit.

“Okay, I’ll just throw questions at you as I think of them.”

“Good,” he stops and bounces on the balls of his feet, “ we should get some boba.”

You were already concerned about Seungmin being recognized on your walk, and going into a boba place seems like the most obvious way for him to be seen. But you’re not going to tell him no.

“Maybe I should go in and get us both something, it seems a little busy in there.”

“If that makes you feel better, yes.”

“It doesn’t. I just don’t want you to get any unwanted attention.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” He brushes his hand against your arm and leads you across the street. “I’m not as popular or recognizable as you might think.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“If nobody expects to see me, they’ll miss me,” he hops up on the curb like a kid. It feels like he becomes more and more relaxed as the day goes on. “But…” he pulls a black face mask from his back pocket and loops it around his ears. “I’ll be much happier if you’re more comfortable.”

____

The sun is coming through the trees and leaving freckles of light over Seungmin’s face and chest. His eyes are closed, hands propping him up as he leans back and stares up at the sky.

You’ve been meaning to ask the question bouncing around in your head for several minutes, but you can’t stop staring at him like this. You reach out and gently shake his foot until he looks at you.

“Hey, sorry…I didn’t mean to get quiet.”

“I have a question.”

He sits up fully and smiles, “oh I never answered you before. No dating. Openly. Technically.” He says it like he’s not sure if he’s using his English words correctly. “Maybe that wasn’t the question.”

“It wasn’t, but I did want to know that, too.” You sip your drink and think about your question again. You had it ready to go, but Seungmin said the word openly and you lost it. “Do you know that I’m older than you?”

“No, I didn’t know. But I don’t mind.” He gets on his hands and knees and crawls closer to you. “If you don’t mind that I’m younger.”

A breeze picks up and his hair is swept across his forehead. He tousles it a little until his bangs fall back in front of his eyes.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t,” the question starts forming in your head again. “Would you ever consider dating, uhm, me? I mean, let’s say you weren’t who you are and we still somehow met. Is that something you’d…consider?

Seungmin looks at you, and his eyes have certainly never been this big before. His ears and cheeks are slowly turning red. And he’s quiet. His mouth opens a bit, but no words come out. You’re afraid you asked the stupidest question you could have possibly thought of.

You made it weird.

“You don’t have to answer. I’m sorry. Please pretend I never said that.” You lift your knees to your chest and bury your face in the space there. You whimper a little to yourself and hope he doesn’t hear it.

“That’s a tough one.”

You can’t see his face, but you can imagine it.

In reality, he’s thinking and playing with his straw. Still blushing, still smiling. If you’d just lift your head and look at him, you’d see that he’s unable to contain his smirk.

“Let’s go back to you looking up at the sky and me not talking.” You relax as much as possible and your back gently hits the grass. You spread yourself out, hoping to sink into the ground.

“No,” he sips his drink and leans back on one hand. “You asked, now it’s out there forever.”

You peek up at him briefly and see his face in the sun again; eyes closed but smirk still tugging at his lips. Quiet and thoughtful.

“Seungmin?”

No answer. You look back at the sky, but you can hear him moving and getting closer. His shadow blocks the sun from your eyes, so you open them.

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay if you wouldn’t.”

Still no answer. Your eyes close again, and then he lays down next to you. It’s a nice moment, or it would be. The birds are singing and there’s the sound of the wind through the trees. The only other people around are far enough away that you can barely hear them.

You feel like you could cry.

Maybe he just isn’t very good at letting people down. He can’t find the right words to tell you it would never work, and that’s understandable, really. He’s sweet and thoughtful and kind. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He just wants to be friends.

You cover you eyes with both hands and sigh as quietly as possible.

“I would, but…I don’t know…” he hmmms and uumms a few times. “Nobody has ever asked me out before.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t believe much.”

"If that's true, it's because you're intimidating."

"Me?" He's trying not to laugh. "I'm not intimidating! Am I? Is it my face? Do I look angry?"

"Okay, wrong word to use. You're too handsome to approach, I mean. I would have never, on my own, started a conversation with you had I seen you at that coffee shop by yourself."

Now you sit up and shade him from the sun. There’s a stray eyelash on his cheek, so you lean forward to gently blow it off.

His eyes flutter open. "I am not too handsome to approach." He whispers and lets himself laugh out loud.

“Okay fine…so I’m your first.”

“So you’re not taking it back?”

“You mentioned meeting your friends earlier. Did I interpret that wrong?”

He shakes his head.

“Then no, I guess I’m not taking it back.”

----

The trip back is not awkward. You expected him to keep his distance, physically and mentally, but he walks almost shoulder to shoulder with you the entire time. He hasn’t given you any type of answer yet, but you’re not worried about it. Part of you still wants to take it back and let things flow at a slower pace. This is, after all, only your second date. The other part of you is already on fire. It’s a tough line to walk.

Inside the apartment it’s gotten much warmer, and you regret not starting the AC before leaving. It’ll take forever to cool down now. You close the windows, lower the shades, and pull the curtains closed. Then you head to the couch and collapse onto it.

Seungmin makes himself at home by heading to the bathroom, then finding himself (and you) something cold to drink. You’re too distracted to even care that he’s digging around in your messy fridge.

“I forgot about this,” he grabs the bag from the side table and dangles it in front of his face. “Your gift.”

You sit up against the arm rest and smile at him, “thank you, Seungmin.” Inside is a small yellow dog plush. “Oh, it’s you!” You squeeze him and adjust the hoodie he’s wearing before bringing him up to your face. “Was he yours?”

“Yeah, he was mine.”

“He smells like you.”

“Is that a good thing?” He sits down by your folded legs and sets a hand just above your knee.

He’s touchy today...almost as much as you. And for never being properly asked out (now you wonder what else he hasn’t experienced), he knows just what to do to make you squirm.

You sit up a little more, bumping his hand off of you by mistake. He pulls it back a little, so you reach out and take it in yours. “Yeah, it is.”

He squeezes your hand and pulls you closer so he can place a kiss on your lips. You kiss back, but your brain takes a second to catch up with your mouth. When it finally does, you kiss hard enough to force him back against the couch.

Seungmin is better in action than he is with words today.

He doesn’t struggle against you or ease up, but pushes on with just as much enthusiasm.

You don’t know what to do with your hands, though. You have a lot of options. Through the hair? No. Neck? Maybe, but you don’t want to be too rough at this angle, and he might not be into that. Face? It’s a good option, and his cheeks are soft and nice to touch. And it's not too much.

Before you can decide, he takes your other hand and pulls until you have no choice but to swing a leg over his lap. And then his hands are on either side of your thighs.

You pull back and look at him.

He stares back, catching his breath. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at answering your questions.”

“You don’t have to.” You let your hands wander over his chest and down his sides. He squirms just a little; probably ticklish. When your hands settle on his belt, you lean in to kiss him again. On his lips, over his cheek. “I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

“I’m glad you did,” he looks down at your hands. “It was nice to be thought of like that. It felt good.”

“If I can see you again, that’s enough for me.”

“Is it?”

It really isn’t, but you decided on the walk back that anything with Seungmin would be okay. “If it’s what you can give me, yeah.”

Your needy, clingy heart feels like it’s crumbling, but you do your best to keep it from showing on your face.

“I can’t promise much, but I can try.”

You kiss him again, and without thinking it through properly; without thinking at all, really, you slide your fingers down and over the zipper of his shorts and feel the significant bulge that you somehow didn’t notice before.

Seungmin’s tiny oh and his hand wrapping around the offending wrist makes your stomach sink. His eyes are wide and fixed on you.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you gently push yourself away from him and sit against the opposite side of the couch, hands covering your red face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…”

“It’s okay,” he giggles and adjusts himself, and you watch from behind one hand as he runs a palm between his thighs. “Please don’t be upset, you didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice softens as he speaks, and the last part is a barely audible whisper, “it was my fault.” But the grin on his face only sharpens. He’s looking down at his hands as they nervously fidget with the hem of his shorts.

“Was that uh, a first, too?” You regret asking it as soon as it leaves your mouth.

He doesn’t answer right away. You’re worried he feels embarrassed about it. And you feel weird for bringing it up. The urge to get closer to him is kept under control for now.

“It’s no big deal, Minnie…if it was.”

Using his nickname breaks him from his trance, and he looks at you, blinks, nods. “Yeah, it was.”

“Did you want that? I mean, when you pulled me on top of you.” Now you scoot a little closer. “You can give me boundaries.”

“I got caught up in the moment.” He starts, thinking and picking his words carefully. “But I did want to kiss you like that.”

“Got it,” closer still, until your knee is brushing against his thigh. “You can always stop me if I go overboard. Sometimes I can be too much.”

“Is that bad? Too much is sometimes nice.”

“I guess it depends…”

You lean forward until your forehead can lay on his shoulder. His cheek rests on your head. You stay that way until you feel yourself relaxing and drifting into a half-sleep.

“I think it’s time to rest.” You don’t move, but Seungmin lifts his head.

“That’s a good idea,” He grabs the pillow to his right and puts it on your side of the couch. “Do you want me to stay?”

You lay back on the couch and sigh. “Yeah, I do. If you want to.”

“I do…move over.”

#kim seungmin #skz fluff #skz seungmin #skz x you #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #stray kids fluff #kim seungmin fluff #kim seungmin x you #skz x reader #skz smut

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (part 3)

Part 1 // Part 2

After his work is done and Dream finds the time to retreat to his chambers, he pulls out Hob Gadling’s notebook and reads Hob's last journal entry in its entirety.

June 8th, 1989

Dearest stranger, my friend! 

I can't believe I am allowed to call you that! Let me tell you that I nearly fainted when I found your message in my notebook this morning. I've read the words you've written a hundred times by now and still I almost can't believe them to be real. I can’t believe I’m touching the pen you must have held, that I missed your presence in my room

As devastated as I was after you didn't come yesterday, as happy am I that you chose to contact me after at all.

I'm quite embarrassed about my drunken ramblings that you must have read. There's no lie in them, but I would try and put the truth into less desperate words if I could. I must seem like a fool, fixating on you like this, after all we've only met six times so far. Still, what I wrote, that you are my one constant in life, is nothing but the truth. Our meetings are fixed points in time that I measure this immortal life of mine by now. I try not to, but meeting with you has often felt like the start and finish of an era of Hob Gadling, despite it being probably more in the middle of several. Every centennial meeting with you was the most important appointment that I would plan and prepare for (as best as I could) for months, sometimes years. So if writing to you like this is the only way I get to speak to you then I will gladly take it, and thank you for it. 

But make no mistake, dear stranger - I would love to see you again and I hope you will be ready and willing to meet me in person again someday. Because

As we are sharing truths and have both admitted that we're lonely, I would like you to know that I have never been content with our schedule. If you're willing I would love to meet you a lot more frequently. A lot of things I'd like to tell you about are long forgotten again when we meet. I guess this book is a good way to share stories with you more often now, if a regular Friday night at the pub isn't your thing. I kept notebooks like this all my life, to be able to peruse them in preparation for our meetings and choose the best stories to tell you, because I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to share them all. We got cut short so often, I wonder how you appeared to know me so well without me telling you overly much. But then, that is what you do, isn’t it?

Like with Lushing Lou, you know everyone. And now you mentioned that you do not forget anyone. Do you truly know everything about me then? Is me telling you stories of my life more of an amusement than a necessity for you? Could you actually know it all with a glance instead of listening to me ramble for hours?

Please forgive me, my friend, I do not mean to sound offended. You wrote that you enjoy our meetings - and apparently my ramblings - and I know you would not lie to me.

You do enjoy stories, then. Is that it? Are you a collector of stories? Of histories? Or is your interest actually in my interpretation of these stories and events, in how a mere human experiences the things that are so easily visible to you? I remember the spark in your eyes when I told you about printing. I was such a dewy-eyed fool then, it almost makes me laugh to remember. Did you already know what Gutenberg’s machine would mean for the advancement of humanity? Did you see me finally shaking off my rough and bloody persona as a step in the right direction? Or were you simply interested, like you said, in my experience, and how I would change over the years?I admit, waiting for you to finally tell me who you are is hard for me. But I’ve waited this long and I will wait longer, and I won’t be offended if it takes you another hundred years to tell me. We have time, after all.

Much has happened in the last hundred years. Mostly war. Humans have reached new heights of cruelty. We have become even more ingenuous at killing ourselves. We have created weapons to wipe out all of humanity. We are one wrong phone call away from destroying all we’ve accomplished with the press of a button. People are overthrowing their regimes left and right and while that is generally a good thing, I am still looking over my shoulder, metaphorically, stashing money and valuables in uncanny places like a pirate of old, in preparation for what might yet turn into a true apocalypse.

It is stressful, and I admit that the new drugs are very tempting. I have not been able to resist trying most of them over the last two decades, either to be able to relax or to be able to feel something other than dread, to see some colours in all this grey.

I participated in both wars and it left me unable to sleep properly for decades. Not that sleep was anything to look forward to. If I tell you that I’ve not had a dream since before the first World War started you will surely think that I’m being silly. That I just don’t remember them. But let me tell you, about a week ago I had the first dream since, I think it must have been 1916 or 17. It wasn’t anything magical or special, (just something very simple, about lying in the grass on a hill, looking at the sky and watching bright blue birds fly overhead) but when I woke up I cried because I felt such a profound relief! Relief that I could dream again! 

I did dream of something strange soon after, though.I dreamed of a skeletal little man, mad and raving, chasing someone that looked like a weird bird man - and here I want to make clear that I do not intend to insult you, dear friend!, but this man that looked like a bird and at the same time was neither, he reminded me of you. I can’t really put my finger on it. Just something in the way he moved, maybe, or the tilt of his head-

Anyway, it was a strange dream, and I felt reminded of you, which is why I am mentioning it, I guess. I’m sorry for rambling about silly dreams. But their return (for I am certain dreams returned, I did not simply start remembering them again) has made me hopeful again.

Maybe times are a-changin’, who knows. They always are, and hopefully for the better this time.

I could tell you a lot more of the last century, of course, but I don’t know if you care to hear war stories. I do not necessarily want to drag all those unpleasant memories up, as it took me years of therapy to get over a lot of them, if you can forgive me for summing things up like I did.

I will think of better and brighter things to tell you and write to you again soon. I would be very happy if I found a reply from you in the meantime, but please use this book at your own leisure and don’t feel pressured to answer me every time I start rambling at you.

I hope to

Yours, Hob

Yours. Dream swallows and reads the word again, traces it with his finger. Yours.

Hob considers himself Dream’s. He knows it’s just an expression used when writing letters, but somehow Dream also knows that Hob means it to be more than just an empty phrase.

His.

Dream does not know if he wants Hob to consider himself Dream’s. Dream would not trust himself with another, not before and certainly not after his ordeal. Where before his imprisonment he had felt too sharp, too lonely, too easily enraged, he now feels brittle, too thin and too vulnerable. He cannot hold another’s heart and keep it safe. He cannot be trusted with the affections of another. He has learned that, over the last billion years. Every relationship he has ever had has ultimately failed. Because of him.

He does not want Hob’s and his relationship to fail. He intends to fix this friendship that he knows he does not deserve but cannot stop himself from clinging to. Few are truly loyal to him, Dream has learned, even fewer because they want to. Hob is singular in that regard, in his enthusiasm and friendliness when it comes to Dream, despite, or rather because he does not know him. And there Dream’s thoughts circle back to his predicament again.

He wants Hob to know him and like him, but Dream is terrified that introducing himself to Hob will leave their barely-mended friendship ready to break completely.

With a heavy sigh he stops moving, realising that he has been walking in circles in his chamber while his thoughts do the same.

Maybe it will be better to simply start writing.

#telling myself that last bit all the time #just sit down and write and some words will come #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #1989 au #teejay writes

[princessmahle]

Yandere rengoku x pregnant reader oneshot (rengoku ai audio added)

ooooo boy I don’t know what state of mind I was in when writing this. But I’m proud of it. Anyways it’s a oneshot so this won’t be continued by any means necessary enjoy!

He put you through hell. But he finally made you his. And all it took was getting you pregnant. He knew that would keep you from trying to get away. At your most vulnerable moment. And he knew you loved kids. So you aborting the baby was just no option for you at this point. However you did tried to recollect what brought you here in the first place. You weren’t a demon slayer. Or even a nurse at the butterfly mansion. You weren’t even a kakushi. Your main purpose for being part of the corp was because rengoku saved you once from a demon. You were heading home and when you got there you saw your father already dead and half eaten by a demon. And your mother injured on the floor telling you to run. You were frozen stiff and the demon smiled at you. “Don’t worry my dear…I’ll come for you next after I finish your mommy and daddy, so you better get a head start on running…it’s much fun and tastier for me that way….” You couldn’t even get a scream out of you because you were so petrified. But you did feel your body in need to move. Slowly but surely your legs came close to your mother.  But before you could get near her the demon body slammed you across the room and you were injured. You blacked out for a second but when your eyes started to rise you saw the demon on the floor with his head decapitated. And you saw a man with a white fiery haori.

He was near your mother. Your mother was saying “please don’t kill me….my…my daughter!” The man turned around to take a glance at you. His eyes widen. He looked at you for sometime, like you were someone important. Very important. When he finally snapped back to reality he turned back to look at your mother. The man smiled at the woman gently “don’t worry she’ll be in good hands. I promise you that she’ll be well taken care of.” He said this while raising his sword up. And eventually, he stabbed the woman to death. You kind of saw it but couldn’t hear what was happening. You were too weak.

When you awoken you were cared at the butterfly mansion. Everyone smiled and nursed you back to health. You couldn’t remember much  except the demon that was attacking your parents. And shinobu offered therapy to you if needed. But you just wanted to go home. Shinobu looked blanked at you. “I’m sorry but your parents….didn’t make it according to one of our pillars.” She explained to you as gentle and slow for you to understand. And yet you still couldn’t believe it. It made you want to scream and throw something. But instead you just sobbed. Kyojuro Rengoku finally walked in and told shinobu if he could interrupt to introduce himself. As he watched you cry he took a knee and  held you hand. “I was the one that stopped that horrid demon from attacking you and your parents. I only wish I I could’ve came sooner. But your parents pain has stopped and they are at peace. I do believe they want you to live your life. So please , continue to live your life and know I’ll be here to protect you.” You still sobbed but you were listening to the young swordsman. He seemed genuinely honest to you. He took your hand and kissed it. You blushed not knowing why that was necessary. And neither did shinobu who eyebrowed rengoku the entire time.  After a short talk with shinobu, rengoku felt it was safe for you to go live with him until you were ready to go back to your village. And for awhile you felt safe. You did have nightmares from time to time but after keeping yourself busy with doing chores with senjuro, (who loved your company) or help cook for shinjuro who you didn’t see as much but did admire him atleast being a gentleman to you and always said good morning to you. You’ve notice he didn’t seem to like his son kyojuro as much but you knew it was none of your business. At this point you did seemed comfortable there but you knew at some point you had to go back and take care of your parents home. Maybe start over and make new memories there. You did miss your friends and you did have a young man in the village you really like and your parents actually blessed you both.

You actually told the rengoku family about this during dinner time. Senjuro smiled and so did shinjuro who at this point liked your company. “Well we’re glad your happy again y/n! Just promise us you’ll write and visit us!” Senjuro replied. Shinjuro gave you a respectable nod as well hoping good fortune for you. You smiled at them both but then you notice kyojuro being unusually quiet.

But still loudly saying tasty at the table. Like he didn’t even here the conversation. Not one bit. You finally smiled at him and said his name gently “kyojuro-san? Isn’t it great?” He was chewing slowly. Very slowly. And when he finally gulped and put down his rice bowl he folded his hands and looked at you.

“That’s wonderful news…however you have no way of protecting yourself…” you blinked at his response but let him continue “you need someone like me to train you before you can go home. Who’s to say it will happen again to you or your friends or even your…fiancé?” He tremble his words a bit using that word. But he wanted to make you understand how weak you actually were in having a chance of living your life without another occurrence like this happening again. His father finally stepped in “since when did you ever care for anyone who isn’t a slayer to be your apprentice? You’ll never have time to train her properly! Your too busy in those little missions that I told you are a waste of time! Leave her be and let her lead her life in peace!” Shinjuro who hadn’t spoken up for you before did make a valuable point. It was your life and decision whether or not you chose to get training. But kyojuro also had a point. After everything you witness and endured you were still frightened of what may come if the slayers aren’t there. Senjuro just stayed quiet knowing very well this conversation may not end well between kyo and his father. But finally you said something before you let them continue. “You may have a point….I should get some training. It may be a good learning experience to learn about your corp and how you serve the country. I do want to protect my home.” Kyojuro smiled “that’s the spirit my little blaze!” Kyojuro was in high spirits again. Senjuro was relieved, and shinjuro scoffed and left the table angry. “Do what you want…it’s all a waste of time…and y/n…” he looked at you one last time before leaving “make your own damn choices next time….” He didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable he just wanted you to go home happy with your decisions. But it’s all changed now since you decided to get training.

For 6 months you did follow on kyojuro’s training and for the most part it seemed you were learning fast with the basics. When you were finally ready to use a real sword he told you that you weren’t qualified. This confused you greatly as you showed so much progress using a sword stick. “You may have learned the basics my little blaze, but I don’t think your quite qualified.” After all those months, after all that progress, he tells you your not qualified. “What do you mean? I did everything you told me to do! I even dodge all your attacks! I’ve even attack you a few times and you said I had burning passion in me! It’s almost time for final selection and I haven’t even used a sword yet!and your trying to say I’m not ready!? What was the point of all of this kyojuro-san!?” Kyojuro finally put his hands on your shoulder and looked deep in your eyes this time not smiling. This time it seemed intense but concerned at the same time.

“You aren’t fit to be a slayer I just wanted you to realize that.” Your eyes widen “excuse me?”you questioned “I thought if I kept you here with us you’d realize how much safe you were from the rest of the world. You weren’t met to be a slayer. I just wanted you to understand how much I’m willing to protect you from here on out.” You pushed his hands away from your shoulders “well who the hell gives you the right to tell me where I should and should not be!? I lost my parents from a demon and had to take therapy. I was able to gain the courage to live again thanks to your father and brother…and I thought your training would give me a secure living in defending my self and my village… are you trying to say all this time you wanted to keep me here for yourself!?”

Kyojuro was now silent he couldn’t give you a straight answer. He didn’t know how else to tell you this so he just yelled out “I’m in love with you!” You were in shock by his response. In fact he said it so loud his father and senjuro heard it in the house. They finally came out to see what the commotion was.

“From the first time I saw you…something set my heart ablaze before I could even attend your wounds. You were just so…so…radiant…” this was now creeping you out because you only saw kyojuro as a friend and a teacher. I mean you were 19 years old so you weren’t exactly too young for him. But it was obvious he had planned for you to be here from the very beginning. It seemed from here on he’d never intended to let you leave his estate. You just walked away from him no longer wanting to here him out anymore. You went into your guest room you used for the past 7 months you’ve been here. You started to send letters to your fiancé about where you had been for the past few months. He was glad to here from you and was sending you letters to come live with him and his family until you two were wedded.

You were about to pack your things. But you didn’t want to leave senjuro and shinjuro in the dark about your plans. So you told senjuro first who was sad at first because his brother was heart broken by your rejection. But senjuro loved you enough to know this will make you happy to go back home. You told shinjuro privately in his room. You bowed and even thanked him for his hospitality. He looked at you, walked up, and finally gave you a hug. But his hug seemed tighter and more intense. He whispered to you.  “Y/n, my son is not well. He has been acting strange ever since he brought you here, and even more strange since you’ve rejected him. You must not tell him you are leaving this evening. I will send a carriage to take you, as much as I would’ve loved you as a daughter in law, my son doesn’t deserve someone as sweet and devoted as you. He would just leave you alone all the time. He’ll keep you trapped here. He will never retire as a hashira.” Tears started to stream down your face as this broke your heart knowing you were about to leave them. But you knew you needed to go for the sake of your freedom and independence. Kyojuro wasn’t home yet as he had a pillar meeting that day. But he got off early due to the master needing to rest a bit sooner. When he returned he saw you were just about to leave, and his eyes widen. “Y/n…y/n! Y/n!!!! Get off that carriage! Get off that carriage now!!!! Y/n!” Shinjuro grabbed his son by the arm and slammed him down to the ground. He was now protesting his father to let him go! “Father your letting her leave!! She needs to stay here with us!!!! She will die if we let her go!!” His father held him down tighter “shut up! You were gonna ruin that girls life with your ideal lifestyle you had planned for her! She doesn’t need  a husband that’ll risk his life everyday and coming  home with wounds and bruises. She doesn’t need to bare children to continue the family line!” Kyojuro was now in shock by his fathers words and shinjuro just smirked and chuckled. “Heh…you didn’t think I knew what you were up to? Your just as diabolical as me… the only difference is I was Betrothed to your mother. So she had no choice in the matter.” Kyojuro gritted his teeth he hated the words his father was saying. “But seriously Kyojuro, she wasn’t even interested. She has a fiancé back at home. She’s going to be wedded soon enough. Your better off son. Besides this is the price you pay for being a slayer. And for the record I will never betrothed you to any woman knowing what you do for a living. Our family traditions are over for line of slayers. She will never bare your children to carry on our family tree.”

And that was the final straw. When he told Kyojuro that you wouldn’t bare his children. He knew he had to hurt anyone that got in his way. Finally with all of kyojuro’s strength, he was able to break his fathers grip and punch shinjuro into a tree. He chased after the carriage. You looked from far away and saw him coming. Before you could tell the rider to step on it the carriage was destroyed in just seconds. Everything flew out including you and your luggage. You fell to the ground and scraped your knee pretty bad. When you were able to lift up a bit you looked at the carnage that unfold. The carriage was destroyed the horse ran off. The man who rode the carriage was unconscious. And your luggage with your clothes in it was spread all over the ground. Kyojuro was right behind you and picked you up before you could react. You tried kicking scratching and biting him. But it didn’t make him wince once. He realized staying at his home estate wouldn’t do any good knowing his father would try to protect you from him. As he took you away senjuro called out for his brother to comeback. But it was too late he abandoned his family for you.

You both ended up back at your home. It was still messy including the blood smell you remembered when your parents were attack. You were gaining those feelings again and you were about to cry because this all seemed unreal that the man you trusted was kidnapping you and bringing you to your old home. “Why did you bring me back here?” He finally put you down on the bed. And you stared at him waiting for an answer. “Look at this place y/n…. Did you really wanted to comeback here and remember all of this?” You looked down but responded “I could make new memories. My parents may have been murder but I can still make their home stand and feel wonderful to live in again.” It took rengoku a moment. You looked at him wondering what he could be thinking based on your decision. And then, he smiled. And then….he laughed. Finally he spoke…. “You have a valid point my little blaze! I will support your decision!” He creeped up to you and said

“and I will be the most loyal…(takes off haori) most dedicated….(takes off his belt) deserving husband you will ever desire….(takes off all his clothes) he comes near your neck and kisses you passionately. You gasped in discomfort and try to push him off. But you pushing him away only pulls him in closer. He grabs both your wrists with one hand, and holds them up to restrain you from fighting back. Once he finally holds you still. You’d had no choice but to just take it and hopefully not let it get the best of you.

After he molested you. You bared his child. You had been pregnant for 8 months now. He had kept you at your parents home like you wanted. But you were not aloud to tell anyone you were there. Not the people of your village. Not your now ex fiancé. Not even shinjuro or senjuro. Because if they found where Kyojuro had hidden you, shinjuro would’ve message the master to find you and send you off to an unknown district where Kyojuro couldn’t find you for your safety. And Kyojuro would’ve been stripped from his title. But from what you understood Kyojuro still went on missions normally. He still went home to his family like nothing was wrong. And because he didn’t have you at the house, senjuro and his father assumed he let you go. And at night when everyone was sleeping he would come check up on you and sleep with you. You always had dinner ready because even though he had dinner with his family. Shinjuro wasn’t always in the mood to eat with the boys and senjuro would eat with him sometimes. So most of the time he sneaked off without anyone noticing. Your village was always atleast 2 hours away from the rengoku estate. But he didn’t mind. He was very fast and he would travel the distance just to see you. No matter how it seemed. It was always worth it to see you in his arms. You made him dinner around 10:00 pm because you knew if you didn’t he would cook and force feed you as he assume you didn’t eat all day and didn’t want anything to happen to you or the baby inside your tummy. He bought all your groceries because he didn’t want you to shop. He wanted to make sure you were in perfect health.

So for the most part you did what you thought would keep him happy. You decided to become his little wife until you could figure out what your next plan was. You cleaned your parents home, you did laundry even doing regular clothing when Kyojuro had no missions. You gardened, as it helped kept you sane during your captivity. He even forced you to practice the rengoku family tradition in staring at fire for 2 hours. As this is why the family has fiery hair and eyes. It seemed you had no choice in the matter.And When you both slept together he would always keep you and your tummy close to his arms.he would rubbed your stomach. He would hum to you. And sometimes even whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He would tell you how much he loved you and how he’ll always protect you and your child. It seemed impossible to escape, knowing he’d eventually find you. And in your fragile condition running was no option.

But then it occurred to you. You were almost due. You had to eventually tell kyo that you were in labor. And that he would take you to the butterfly mansion. So you brought it up to him. He was reading his books outside smiling to himself. You tapped his shoulder “Um….dear?” He turned his head so fast, and stared at you dead on. It was very creepy. But you had his full attention.

“Yes darling? Did you want some more kisses on your tummy?” You we’re now cringing a bit but politely you said “No dear. I was just wondering when your out on missions who’s going to care for me when I go into labor?” That smile that Kyojuro made was now a frown. He really didn’t think that through. But he took your hand and said “Do you love me?” You hesitated with that question but you went along with it and told him yes. He then asked “Do you trust me to take you to the butterfly mansion for care?” You smiled now feeling you were getting somewhere with this conversation. You nodded to him. He smiled and said “then I will stay with you until the baby comes. We’ve been together for this long Im going to let the master know about you and me being together. And father…..he’ll have to accept us together at this point! Because my plans had already been complete!” You smiled uncontrollably. And you knew why. Was Kyojuro really that stupid? No matter, this was your chance to call for help. But you decided to wait till after the baby was born.

When the time came you were in labor you were taken to the butterfly mansion immediately and shinobu was notified about you coming since kagaya had given her the news a month ago. So she had your bed already prepared. She did questioned you on when you and kyo were a thing. But you had to keep it secret atleast until the baby was born. So you played it off as saying you fell in love with him. The other hashira were shocked because kyo had never spoken of you up to this point. Tengen wanted to celebrate by drinking. Obanai seemed confused on how all this even happen, mitsuuri cheered believing love conquered all, Gyomei cried wondering if he could bless the child later,muichiro looked at the clouds, and giyu smiled just a little. Sanemi didn’t say anything but he did stare at rengoku a long time wondering why things had to be kept a secret.  Master kagaya as usual congratulated rengoku and hoped to hold the child soon as a warm welcome. Finally after a day or two. You’ve given birth to a beautiful baby boy. Shinobu handed your son to you. And you were about to speak up and tell her the truth. As you didn’t want Kyojuro to come in and see you and your son. This was your chance. To tell her everything. To finally put a stop to this madness. To finally get back at him for keeping you away from your fiancé.from telling you that you were weak. From taking advantage of you when you were forced on your parents bed. But then suddenly your son sucked on your thumb. Shinobu smiled “uh oh…seems the little guy is hungry already…He sure has an appetite like his father doesn’t he?” You looked down and said “yeah..I guess he does…” shinobu was about to walk out and said “he will make a great father. Even though I’m surprised by all of this…you both seem very happy. Your son will grow very happy and healthy. Even if his father is a slayer. It does run in the rengoku family I suppose… Congratulations I’ll go get rengoku for you.” and shinobu took her leave.

While she close the door. You stayed silent. You couldn’t believe you let her go. And that’s when you remembered what rengoku said. It was all part of his plan. He knew you wouldn’t have the heart to take your son away from his father. After all he was a good man to many. He saved many lives and he would protect you and your child from danger especially demons. What could all this mean. Were you falling in love with him? Was it just manipulation? Or did you pity the child knowing he must live a lie for a better upbringing? All you knew was that rengoku’s plan worked. He had you wrapped around his finger and he wasn’t going to let you pull away. Rengoku came in and kissed you for a job well done. The kiss seemed force but not suffocating. He just loved you so much. He held his child. And you couldn’t help but smile on how gentle he was. Mitsuuri came in next with tons of gifts because she considered herself an auntie now. And finally senjuro and shinjuro came in. After telling his father his dirty little secret. Kyojuro didn’t even cared he told him the whole truth. Because in a weird way he was like his father. He wanted someone, he was going to show how much he wanted them. Shinjuro was not happy that you were put through so much. but at this point all he saw was you as his daughter in law he can protect in case Kyojuro went too far with you. He also saw his grandson. Which he already adored.so he decided to make the best of it. Senjuro on the other hand was just happy he got to share a moment with his whole family. Nothing else matter.

When everyone left, you were with Kyojuro and he finally saw you sleep after feeling worn out all day. He held your son while you slept and finally leaned in and whispered to you “we’re going home tomorrow. To my home. Your not going back to your parents home my dear. Because you’ve made new memories now. I promise you’ll be happy. There’s nothing left back at that village for you. Don’t worry, I gave the home to a couple in need to raise their children there. So there’s no need to go back. Because someone is already filling new memories there. Your mine…and mine alone. And I’ll be…..the only memory you’ll cherish most….” He kissed you gently as you slept, fidgeting just a little from the touch of his lips. A tear slid down your cheek gently. You were asleep, but somewhere in your dreams, you heard him. You heard everything and in your dreams all you felt was this force holding you down. You were afraid to wake up knowing he will be there, everyday for the rest of your life…… rengoku smiled “rest easy my love…”

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyōjurō #kyojuro rengoku x reader #yandere #yandere rengoku

[homerforsure]

Can I request #21 "It's alright, I'm here." for the there was only one bed/sharing a bed prompts? ☺️❤️

Only three months late! But I was feeling inspired by @andavs stunning 6 days of Buddie art (this one in particular) and I finally made some writing happen. <3

ETA: Now on AO3 because I did think of a title after all

The Second Hand Unwinds

The body holds on tight to pain. It’s a trite little phrase that Eddie’s snorted at more than once after hearing it from Frank, from well-meaning “I’ve been where you are” guys at group meetings, and from more than one physical therapist. But the fact that it makes for pretty, marketable word art, doesn’t keep it from being true. 

Eddie remembers it whenever an old memory works its way out of the darkness like shrapnel coming to the surface and every time pain flares hot and fresh through scarred-over wounds. His body marks the passing of the seasons, notches carved into his bones as the years pass, and Eddie’s muscles brace themselves hard against the most devastating anniversaries of his life. Usually well before his brain has a chance to notice the date on the calendar. 

Every time it happens–every time–he forgets what it feels like. He wakes up one morning and it takes him longer to get out of bed. He rubs his eyes and feels better after a shower and doesn’t think anything more of it. And then he wakes up tired the next day. And the next. Eddie wakes up in a gloom and he remembers tossing and turning so restlessly that he’s not actually sure he even fell asleep. 

From there it’s a quick slide into running late, losing patience, making largely inconsequential but stupid mistakes at work. He takes one night off from cooking, then two. Christopher doesn’t go without vegetables or protein or crustless sandwiches or any of the other important parts of the preteen food pyramid but he notices the change. Mentions the change to Buck because it doesn’t occur to him to keep secrets like that (not that Eddie would really want him to) and then Eddie finds himself under the compassionate scrutiny of Buck’s gaze with no idea how to explain himself.

So he attempts a simple batch of lemon chicken to prove he’s alright. Then, when Christopher and Buck crack each other up making exaggerated sour faces at each other over the mostly inedible plates that they dutifully try to eat anyway, Eddie doesn’t laugh. He does the dishes himself and he doesn’t turn around when Buck wraps his arms around his waist from behind and rests a chin on his shoulder in a lemon-scented apology.

His body aches. It aches even when work has been easy and he’s angry and he’s fine but also not and he can’t figure out what’s wrong. 

“I’m going to bed,” he says, earlier than usual. “Can you check his homework?”

“Yeah, of course,” Buck answers, getting up from the couch even though Eddie deliberately made his announcement from the far end of the living room. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Just tired.” Eddie waits and accepts the hand on his forehead as Buck checks to see how warm he is, almost looking more worried when he doesn’t find any trace of fever. 

Keeping his hand on Eddie’s cheek, he asks, “You’ve been tired a lot lately.”

“Mmm.” 

“You’d tell me right? If there was something wrong?”

There’s nothing Eddie can do but nod. He wishes there was something, wishes he knew how to explain it to Buck–to himself for fuck’s sake. He wishes he knew why he’s pulling himself away from Buck’s touch when he wants to melt into it until his body makes sense again. 

Buck studies his face, searching for the answers that Eddie can’t give him and then he sighs, gently brushing his hair back before leaning in to kiss him just as gently. “I won’t be up late,” he says. “If you need anything…”

“I will,” Eddie promises. 

Fresh spring heat has finally started warming the city and the bedroom is stifling when Eddie closes the door behind him. He cracks both bedroom windows just wide enough to let a breeze in, almost wincing as the smell of jasmine comes in with it, strong enough to make him want to sneeze like a dog does, with his full body and a shake of his head. He leaves the windows anyway, trading one discomfort for another and slides into bed, staring at the whirring blades of the fan until they morph into the shape of their longer, sharper helicopter cousins and stop Eddie’s heart in his chest. 

He’s not even in the helicopter. He’s somewhere else. It’s dark and the wind is howling, splattering rain pinging off every surface like flying gravel. Eddie can see through it perfectly. None of the rain streaking down his face impacts his view of the scene at all. He sees Shannon, dressed in sunshine yellow, take a step toward him. Toward the flooded street that’s rushing with whitewater and debris. He screams. But all that comes out of his mouth is blood. When he tries to run, to stop her, to dive in, to rescue her, his legs give out beneath him and he collapses. 

A wave crests over the curb and washes Shannon, blood on her clothes and blood on her face, into the river. She vanishes with a choked gasp, reaching for him, and Eddie reaches back, stretching out his hand as far as it will go. There’s blood on his fingers and pooling beneath him and he reaches and reaches, trying to pull himself up, trying to save her, to save both of them, but his body flops uselessly in the rain. 

It hurts. And then it doesn’t. And Eddie knows. 

He’s going to die. 

He’s going to die and he never told Buck- He’s going to die and he hasn’t had enough time with Christopher. He won’t get to explain this to him. He won’t get to see him grow up. He won’t get to see Buck grow old. He’s dying. He’s dying. He’s-

Gasping, Eddie wakes up. It’s still dark; the fan is still spinning. As he struggles to sit up, he can’t get any breath into his lungs. The air is too thick with jasmine, that cloying scent that invades LA every spring, and he puts a hand to his throat like he can claw a fresh opening into his lungs. 

So many of Eddie’s worst memories have come in the spring. With this smell in the air. With this light shimmering through the windows. And his body remembers. 

“Eddie? Eddie, hey. Eddie, are you okay?” Buck asks, his voice cutting through the fog as one of his strong hands presses between Eddie’s shoulder blades and the other hovers over his thigh. He’s gotten to his knees somehow while Eddie’s been doing all he can just to sit upright and his body is warm and close. That scent of Buck that gets more powerful after he’s been sleeping a while pricks at Eddie’s nose and his windpipe relaxes all at once, finally letting in a mouthful of air. 

“That’s it. Just breathe. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you. It was just a dream.” 

Eddie can hear how hard Buck is working to keep the fear out of his voice for him and he falls in love just a little bit more in that moment. Turning into Buck’s chest, Eddie lets himself fall into his arms, shoving his freezing hands up the back of Buck’s t-shirt and trying to burrow his way inside. Buck only wobbles for a second as he takes Eddie’s weight and then he cradles him close, one hand sliding up into Eddie’s hair and the other wrapping tight around his body. 

“It’s okay. It’s alright; I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe. We’re all safe. Christopher is right down the hall. Everybody is okay.” 

Effortlessly, Buck soothes the wounds he knows are most likely to be hurting badly enough to wake Eddie in the middle of the night and the gravel sound of his sleep-rough words almost brings tears to his eyes. 

His body remembers this too. It knows safety and comfort and strength enough for all of his heaviness. Eddie breathes in Buck–herbal body wash and the tang of sweat, the familiarity of his skin–and, gradually, the terror of his nightmare melts into exhaustion.

“What do you need?” Buck murmurs, stroking through the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck. “Some water? Or we could watch tv for a while?”

Buck can feel Eddie shake his head against his collarbone, but the words aren’t as far away as they sometimes are on nights like this so Eddie reaches for them. “No. Just this. Just stay with me.” 

Keep holding me is what he means, but he already feels delicate enough to shred and that additional vulnerability is just a step too far. Buck understands anyway. 

“Want to lay back down?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

It takes a minute–Buck’s knees protest the change as he shifts his weight off of them and the blankets are half tangled and half on the floor from the thrashing both of them have done–but eventually they fold themselves together. On their sides, facing each other, Eddie twines his fingers together with Buck’s and gets a squeeze in return, one that promises that this is something he’ll never wake up and find gone. 

The chill eases from his bones and the screaming eases from his memories and Eddie tiptoes cautiously back to the edge of sleep. He’s wavering there, resisting the fall, and he feels the mattress shift and feels it creak as Buck shifts beside him. 

His fingers brush Eddie’s cheek again, curling around to tilt his head forward, just the smallest bit, and then Buck presses a kiss to the top of his head. He breathes in deep, like he’s reminding himself of something too, and then there’s another kiss to Eddie’s forehead. 

“I love you,” he whispers. “We’re okay.”

And all of Eddie believes. 

#buddie #buddie fanfic #911 fanfic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #sharing a bed #depression #trauma #nightmares #death mention #should I post this to AO3? #I'd have to title it #I hate titling #allison writes

[kentocalls]

soulless sukuna ryomen author note: red string of fate!au, sukuna does not have a string, technically it should be stringless!sukuna but it’s not the same as soulless!sukuna so pls let me have this. i probably won’t write ever again

Soulless!Sukuna who is sure you’ve lost your mind when he finds you on his balcony, trying to slip your heels onto his expensive outdoor coffee table. He admires the skin peaking through that awfully conservative outfit, watches you sit and lean back dangerously, the city wind making hair hair dance, a shiver crawling up your neck. He’s not intrigued.

Soulless!Sukuna lights his cigarette and pretends you aren’t there. Pretends he doesn’t feel your eyes on him, assessing. Mind vaguely shuffling through what he remembers about you; something in your file mentioned part of the job you hold is analytics? Whatever. It’s not like he kept tabs on you for a year due to interest. You’re simply a very easy piece to fuck up Gojo Satori’s empire with. That’s it.

Soulless!Sukuna who takes his sweet time smoking, enjoying the ambience below him, his street is kept clean and quiet out of sheer fear of his wrath. Those who know, understand it's best to not bother the king of the city with anything stupid. His mind wanders back to you, realizing that you’re not invited to his celebration, how the fuck did you get past his security? He’s not going to ask, he doesn’t care. You’re not a threat.

Soulless!Sukuna who saunters over it’s to use his crystal ash tray, to keep his balcony clean, it’s not to admire your silhouette lit up by city lights. It’s not to make you acknowledge his presence, it’s not to pull you out of scary thoughts, it’s not to catch your eye and watch how you hold your breath.

Soulless!Sukuna who understands the look when he gets it. After all, Sukuna doesn’t have a soul tie. Has no blessed love or scared attachment or whatever the fuck people say it is. He’s the first in years to be born without one, happy to have one less complication given the kind of work he builds his fortune on. Makes him a fantastic one night stand, makes it easy for him to walk away. Nothing to tug him back to bed in the morning.

Soulless!Sukuna who isn’t captivated by the twinkle in your eye, whose fingers don’t itch to touch, whose hand doesn’t want to pull you in close. A taste, he doesn’t need.

Soulless!Sukuna who watches you shiver, serves you right for sneaking into his place unprepared. Clearly you’re bold enough to seek him out, you have his attention now. He's not lingering, he owns the fucking place, he can stay out on his balcony for as long as he wants. You, however, need to say whatever the fuck it is you’re here to say.

Soulless!Sukuna who almost misses your “Thought you’d have better security, being an important figure and all…” you exhale, ready to see if the ever infamous Sukuna is going to chew you like you’ve seen him do before. Your soultie despises the very ground he walks on, refuse to do business within miles of his establishments. He would be so fucking furious at you being here, perfectly content in his presence. He is dangerous, he should feel that way to you but he doesn’t.

Soulless!Sukuna walks in close, the cigarette smoke clinging to his skin alongside something spicy. He leans in, face bored, eyes trailing past your shoulder, down to the road below his luxurious apartment. His voice serious, right in your ear “Don’t have time for games, fall off someone else’s balcony.”

You pout. The most dangerous man in the city is less than 10 inches from your face and you pout at him. “Not gonna fall unless you push me.”

That gets a smirk from him, “Tempting, might want to see the face Gojo Satoru would make when his pretty mate is splattered on asphalt.”

Soulless!Sukuna likes when you hum as you lean further back, despite himself Sukuna is drawn closer, and arm tempted to pull you to his chest, keep you safe from the edge. He doesn’t need another detective on his ass about another murder he didn’t commit.

“You might make things easier for Satoru, the complication simply disappears, the guard tailing me provides photos of us on this balcony, moments before my demise and you’re back in court. Paying your stupid expensive lawyer all over again No, my death wouldn't drive him insane, he'd just use to his advantage.” Now he hums.

“Want to know what actually drives soul ties mad?”

Soulless!Sukuna whose seen what rejection of a soul tie does, knows you're not as calm, collected, and in control as you appear. He’s not nice, he’s indulged enough, should probably push you off the balcony to prove a point. He knows soul ties is an insanity, it’s a weakness. He has and will continue to exploit. You’ve snuck into the tigers den completely unprepared. Oh, the things he can do, should do, will do.

Soulless!Sukuna who cares nothing about personal space, pulls you close, hands burning where they touch skin. “Don’t care.” Lips centimeters from your own. “What do I get out of it? What can you give me?” You don’t cower, you don’t pull back like others have done before, his hands might move higher, one may find the back of your neck and squeezes. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it isn’t “Whatever you want.”

#ryomen sukuna fic #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #soultie!au #red string of fate!au #april writes #posting before i delete #i have more to say but meh #i need sleep #bye bye thanks for getting to the tagssss

[alotofpockets]

Moon | Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Based on the song Moon by Reneé Rapp. Reader is having a hard time sleeping after a bad breakup with Wanda.

A/n: This is a repost from an old account.

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1K

Sleep didn’t come easy to you these days, you spend your nights either staring at your ceiling or outside of your window, your thoughts never ending. The lack of sleep caused by your breakup with Wanda was taking a toll on your mental health. Though, your days tend to be better than your nights, during the day you have enough distractions to not miss Wanda. However, the second you flipped the lights off and you’re in this room at night, that’s when your mind starts wondering, thinking back on the time you spent with her. Remembering all the happy memories that you shared, though of course that only made you miss her more.

It hurts that she’s somewhere out there still existing, while you feel like you don’t sometimes. You feel like a robot on autopilot trying to navigate through the week. You get up in the morning, go to work, get home, eat, go to bed, and do it all over the next day. Nothing more than a step by step routine, a mindless cycle, to survive.

It had been incredibly hard to try and not care about Wanda, when all you wanted to do was convince her to stay. In your mind you knew that was never going to happen though, she had made that very clear. Not to say the breakup was all Wanda’s fault though. You had hoped for Wanda to see your point, to fight for what you had, but you ended up having different views. Talking about those differences had ended up in a much different way than you had imagined. 

Wanda had come back injured from yet another mission, it broke you to see her hurt, especially because it happened over and over again. She would come back home with cuts, bruises and broken bones, mission after mission. It was getting bad to the point that you just had to share your thoughts on the matter.

“Darling, you’re hurt again, that is like the third time this month. You have to be more careful.” You said sharing your concerns. In hindsight bringing this conversation up right after she came back from an exhausting mission wasn’t the best timing, but there was no turning that back around. “I can’t very well put my safety first when I am trying to help people, y/n.” Wanda replied in annoyance. “When I am saving lives, I have to put their lives in front of my own, that’s kind of in the job description.” - “I know it’s a part of the job, it’s just that I am trying to plan a future with you but each time you’re on a mission I am afraid that you won’t come back to me, and that scares me. I know how important being an Avenger is to you. How important it is to right the wrongs from your past, but at what point will saving lives and putting your own in danger make it even?” You’re getting frustrated, as all these emotions have been piled up over the past couple of months. You should’ve communicated feeling this way sooner, you realize that now, maybe then you would still be able to fix this.

“If you know how important this is to me, you wouldn’t ask me to give it up.” You take a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m not asking you to give it up. I’m just.. I guess I’m just asking if you can work in the field less. You can be an Avenger in many ways, training or less invasive missions for example. All I’m asking is for you to prioritize our future a bit more.” Wanda was clearly not agreeing with you as she replied back to you with, “That certainly could be a possibility for some people, but not for me. I am not going to change what I love doing the most in this world for an outcome that is up to fate anyways. I’m not giving up on the one thing that makes me feel the slightest bit okay with what I did in my past, not just because you’re scared that I might not make it. I can handle myself just fine and why don’t you just work on being less worried?” 

The tears you had been holding in were now rolling down your cheeks. “I can’t, Wanda. I can’t go on like this anymore. I can’t keep thinking you are going to die everytime you go out on a mission. I can’t, I can’t do this. If you don’t want to try for us, I think this is it.” 

That was the last time you had seen Wanda in person. Wanda didn’t want to fight for your future together, and you couldn’t keep going without any change. So, that’s how your three year relationship ended. A part of you understood that it wasn’t fair of you to ask her to step down, as you knew how important being an Avenger was to her, but the bigger part of you still stood behind your own needs. It would have happened over time anyways but you couldn't imagine staying happy in a relationship where you’re constantly worried about if they’re going to come back to you alive, especially because she had no interest in being safer and more caring about her own life, in any way, shape or form.

The conversation of that night plays over and over in your head, while you’re laying in bed looking out of the window. The moon shines bright and you wonder if Wanda is having trouble sleeping too, is she looking at the moon, just as you are? The night skies stare back at you as in the stars, you can see her eyes. The only place left for you and her to exist. 

As the light reflecting off the moon casts streaks of light onto your face, your last thought before closing your eyes was you wondering, when we’re looking at the same moon, do you miss me too?

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#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda x y/n #wanda marvel #wanda mcu

[mariacallous]

The inside cover of my grandmother’s cookbook is inscribed with her handwriting, “Think of me when you cook.” It is a copy of the same spiral-bound book that has been given to all of the women in my family. “The Sephardic Cooks: Comé Con Gana” has somehow made its way from one synagogue in Atlanta to Sephardic communities and families from New Jersey to California. It has all the classic recipes, including a section titled “Main Dish Pastries.” These dishes are the cornerstone of the Sephardic tradition, desayuno.

The word “desayuno” literally translates to “breakfast” in Ladino, the dying Judeo-Spanish language historically spoken by Sephardic Jews. Yet, the meaning extends beyond that one meal. In Sephardic culture, desayunois a category of foods associated with the large Saturday morning meal that would be served after Shabbat, including egg dishes and savory pastries. 

These desayuno foods are some of my favorite things to eat and the ones I most associate with my own family traditions. The blocks of crustless quajado (spinach quiche) that always seemed to be in my childhood freezer, ready to thaw for lunch. The doughy, cheesy spinach boyos my grandmother would have ready for our breakfast every time we traveled to visit her. The pasteles (mini meat pies) my great-aunt taught to a room filled with four generations of cousins at our family reunion last summer. The rice-and-cheese-filled bureka pastries my mom comes over to make with my kids and me. 

While delicious and crowd-pleasing, these are also some of the most time-consuming recipes to prepare. I picture my great-grandmother standing in a friend’s kitchen as all the ladies of the community work together to knead mounds of dough, mix a vat of filling, fold and crimp sheets and sheets of burekas. Whether this is accurate or just my imagination justifying why it feels intimidating to make these by myself, desayuno pastries do not align well with today’s fast-paced, individual lifestyle. Save for the times my mom comes to bake with us (importantly, bringing a container of prepped filling), making dough and pastry from scratch is not happening in my kitchen. 

I hope to be a part of the thread that keeps Sephardic traditions alive, yet I do not want to let perfection be the enemy of my intentions. I think my grandmother would agree. While she baked burekas with all of her grandchildren and always had a freezer full of freshly baked rosca (coffee rolls), she was never one to turn down a good shortcut. She developed her own boyo recipe featuring Hungry-Jack biscuit dough as the base and once described to me a full lentil soup recipe, only to end it with, “or you could just buy a can of lentil soup.” She loved when I would call her to share that I had tried a Sephardic recipe, such as cinnamon biscocho cookies or lemon chicken soup. Whether my attempts had been successful or a flop (like my rock-hard biscochos), her smile would be audible through the phone saying, “I’m just so glad you tried.” 

As Sephardic culture and traditions fade and assimilate, food provides an important outlet to preserve history and share it with family and friends. More important than getting it right or spending hours in the kitchen is remembering our traditions, trying recipes, talking about or simply eating Sephardic foods, regardless of who made them.  

In that spirit, I would like to propose lowering our standards, for the greater good of keeping traditions alive. Consider a desayuno with fewer parts or with a little help from the freezer aisle. Rather than the large spread my ancestors would prepare for days in advance, consider making one thing from scratch (though I won’t tell if you cook zero things). You could make a batch of burekas or a quajado, arguably the easiest of the Sephardic breakfast dishes, or even just prepare a pot of hard-boiled eggs. Supplement with frozen spanakopita, Ta’amti Bourekas or a Trader Joe’s Greek cheese spiral for a full table. 

Nothing will taste quite like homemade pastries fresh from the oven and I still aspire to make them (occasionally). Yet, even when I munch a makeshift Sephardic meal, I will be thinking of my grandmother, just as she inscribed in her cookbook. As long as we are sharing food together, talking about Sephardic traditions, remembering meals and people who matter to us, I will call it desayuno. I think my grandmother would be proud. 

[averagewriter777]

Ghost and Doc (Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader)

Masterlist

(Part Five)

“So, what do you usually drink, (Y/n)?” The question was asked by Gaz to break the awful silence in the car. (You’d think the radio would at least be playing some music- but nope!)

You fumbled with your fingers. “Well… I’ll drink anything, I guess. But I feel like my drinks are mood-based, you know?” Soap raised a brow towards you. “Okay- let’s just say that I’m down in the dumps, feeling miserable… I’ll open a bottle of scotch or whiskey. If I want to get wasted- which hasn’t happened for a few years, I’ll take some vodka or tequila. If I’m out drinking with friends and they’re having shots, I won’t join… because that’s a hangover and I fucking hate those- probably have a margarita or two. If I’m trying to flirt with a man, it usually works for some reason- I’ll order a sex on the beach… and he’ll get the memo.” You stopped talking when you realized Gaz, Soap, and Ghost were staring at you. “What? Told you it’s mood based.”

“We’re having some shots- you won’t drink them?” Soap said, albeit disappointed in his tone. You shrugged, then shook your head. “Damn, found our designated driver then. Hope you know how to drive around in this country.” You didn’t, but you’d figure it out. 

Everyone took a seat at a table in the corner. You and Soap were in charge of grabbing drinks, mostly because you wanted something different- as did Ghost. (The man was also still wearing his mask, something you were confused about, but didn’t ask about) Soap ordered a round of tequila shots, a bourbon for Ghost, and you surprised him by ordering Fireball whiskey.

“No margaritas?” He chuckled while carrying the tray back to the table. 

You almost snorted into your glass but remembered you were also carrying Ghost’s drink, so you held it back- not wanting to spill it. “Not tonight. You’ll witness me order a margarita when I feel more at home. My old team made fun of me for ordering those. Nice try there, Soap.”

“Call me John,” he said while setting down the tray. Everyone took their respective shot glasses and immediately downed them.

Ghost took his bourbon glass from your hand, lifted his mask, then took a small sip of it. You took that moment to look at his jaw and lips- because you were curious. Your gaze snapped away when his eyes lingered over on you. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Of course,” you raised your glass a little then took a sip. The whiskey burned in your mouth, but you didn’t flinch. “Why don’t you drink with them? Tequila’s a good time if you have enough of it… until the following morning.” You raised the glass to your lips again, watching Ghost sigh.

“Johnny told me once it tasted like dog piss. Seems like he’s changed his mind.” Ghost shrugged and took a sip of his bourbon again. “And I prefer bourbon, no matter what. Dark drinks I seem to enjoy the most.” He looked at what you were drinking. “Didn’t you say you only drank whiskey when you were miserable?”

You set down your glass and rubbed the edge, wondering if you should say anything. Both Soa- John, and Price told you to be careful… “Well, I’ve got a daughter at home. This was a poor time for me to deploy. Her birthday is tomorrow, she’s turning six.” Your brows furrowed. “A ‘friend’ has her gift ready… but I was hoping to give it to her this year. The last time I was there for something important was her first words and steps.”

Guess you didn’t realize you were being emotional as well as crying a bit, because Ghost had reached across the table to put one of his gloved hands over your own. “It’ll be alright. We’ll make sure you get to give her a call, okay?” You nodded and rubbed under your eyes then let out a shaky sigh. “Now, let’s go get you a different drink. You’re right about it being emotion-based.”

- (At the table while you and Ghost are at the bar)

“So, what do you two think of (Y/n) so far?” Price asked while staking his third shot glass on top of the other two. 

Soap added to the pyramid that Price was creating with his shot glasses. “Good woman, good medic too. Seems to be getting along with the team alright too.” He looked over at the bar, gesturing to you and Ghost, who were talking while waiting on your new drink. “Ghost has warmed up to her quick.”

“That’s probably the most surprising out of all of this,” Gaz said while scratching the back of his head. “Work-wise… she’s good. Can’t wait to see how she handles a weapon- she was a monster on that training mat.” He almost cheered out loud whenever there was an almost-win against Ghost- but this wasn’t a wrestling match, so he kept it to himself. “I wouldn’t be worried about her on the field so far.”

Soap was going to add something, but he shut his mouth when you and Ghost started walking back to the table. You raised a brow toward him but decided not to say anything. “Y’all are out of shots? That was fucking quick, need some more?” The men shrugged as if they weren’t opposed. “Right then, I’ll take these…” You gathered up the tower of shot glasses that Price and Soap created, put it all on the tray, then made your way back to the bar.

When you were out of earshot, the three men turned to Ghost, who went back to drinking his bourbon. Once he noticed he was being watched, he set his drink down and sighed. “What.”

“Just wondering what you think of Sergeant (Y/n) so far,” Price said calmly as if he was talking to a ticking bomb. “It looks like you’ve warmed up to her thus far, are we correct about that?”

Ghost grunted and picked up his glass again. The look in his eyes told Price that he did indeed not want to talk about it, but they were correct about it. “She’s alright,” he admitted. He wouldn’t say anything more, not to his drunk companions. “Excellent sparring partner… good medic too.”

You were back within that second, holding that *last* round of tequila glasses for the group. When everyone picked up their glasses and raised them to the air, Ghost included, you went to do the same. “To (Y/n) and the 141!” Everyone repeated what was said and took their shots. You and Ghost sipped your glasses- you shuddered when sipping yours this time.

“Ugh, it’s been so long since I’ve had bourbon.” You set the Old Fashioned down on the table and looked at Ghost, who was smiling into his glass. “Don’t laugh- that’s fucking rude.”

Ghost *probably* raised a brow at you. “You drink whiskey and every other drink out there… but bourbon is the one that makes you cringe and shudder? That’s all.” You took another sip, lifting your middle finger not-so-subtly at the same time. “That’s no way to talk to your lieutenant.” His smile had fallen, but it remained in his eyes.

You nearly choked on your drink. “I’m sorry- that’s your rank?” Ghost shrugged, and also made a face that said ‘you weren’t told?’ “Price didn’t tell me. Shit, sorry.” With that, you decided it was time to call it a night. “Alright, how the hell are we paying for this?” Ghost pointed to Price, who was taking out his wallet- but was struggling. “Alright, give me one second…” You remembered that Price had given the bartender the card at the beginning of the night.

“Closing your tab?” He asked. You nodded and folded your arms on the counter while you waited for the receipt to come up. “It was under… Price, right?” You nodded again and clicked the pen you were given. “Alright, here you go… just sign and you’ll be good.”

You weren’t sure how Price signed his name, so you just made up some scribble- kind of like a doctor’s scribble. It was similar to what your signature was, just with different letters. And you left a hefty tip, based on what everyone drank, that is.

“Thanks, have a good night!” The bartender was grinning at the receipt as he put it back in the drawer. Guess you left a good enough tip.

Back at the table, Ghost was getting everyone to get off their asses and out the door. You asked him on the way out why he doesn’t just drive since he only had that one glass of bourbon, but he shook his head. “I don't like driving. I’ll tell you where to go… you just go from there.”

A/N: That’s right. He’s a shit driver. Everyone has seen how he drives- right? That’s it. That’s just it. But he wouldn't tell you that, not yet at least.

(Part Six)

#mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost x female reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #alejandro vargas

[just-wrting]

The Babysitter (Part 2)

Title: The Babysitter Part 2

Summary: It's your first day with the Hotchner boys and you already know that if you're not careful, you'll be unable to leave.

Word Count: 2368

Master List Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

A/N: It's 3:30 am for me, but I promised I'd get this out. I've been exhausted lately for no good reason so it's gotten pushed back due to wanting to sleep. Here it is in all its glory though! Perhaps I will write something for my other current fixation.

It’s six in the morning and you’re knocking on Aaron’s door. It’s your first day getting to babysit the well behaved Jack. As nervous as you are, you’re also excited. It’ll be a nice change of pace from the Smiths’ kids who were sweet but still rambunctious.

“Good morning. I didn’t think you’d actually be here this early,” Aaron says as he opens the door.

You step into the home. Shoes line the wall as flakes of dirt hang off the soles. A muddy soccer ball rests in the corner surrounded by scuff marks. You can see that the carpet is clean from dirt and mud however.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I said six am.”

He takes your bag from you, filled with a laptop and various things kids need on excursions, and steps back to let you in. His arm brushes against yours as he shuts the door behind you, momentarily trapping you against it. You take a brief moment to study Aaron.

There’s bags under his eyes and you know he doesn’t get much sleep. His eyes are soft and deep and you know that if you look into them too long you could get lost. He’s taller than average and smartly dressed, clearly an important person. Overall he’s very handsome and take note of the fact that you’ll have to tread carefully around him.

“Is Jack still sleeping? Since it’s summer vacation I can let him sleep in I hope,” you ask as you follow Aaron.

“Yes. He has soccer practice at four this afternoon but besides that, he doesn’t have any other commitments.” He sets your bag on the couch. “His room is just down the hall, to the right. The bathroom is on the left. He’s free to go where he wants in the house, just not in my office.”

You nod and take mental notes of things you want to inspect. You may be the nosiest person to ever walk the earth, but at least you’ll save it for later. It’s mainly just pictures you’d like to look at. 

“So I don’t remember you saying what you do for work, Aaron.”

He pauses in front of the couch and rubs his jaw. “I work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI. If I’m not at the office, I’ll be out of state. If you ever need something, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Are you headed to work this early? Did you eat breakfast? And by breakfast I mean more than coffee.”

He glances at you before looking away, a telltale sign that he’s most likely only had coffee. You stifle a laugh by turning it into a cough. The cough doesn’t hide your grin however and Aaron raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll make you something. It’s best for me to scope out the kitchen anyway so by making you breakfast I can find out how to make Jack’s food perfect cause some kids are picky.”

Aaron hesitates. You can tell that he wants to go to the office early, it’s probably going to be a bad habit if you let him. There’s a struggle going on in his brain and you get to watch it happen. You’ve only known him for a little over twelve hours, but you’re already worried about him.

“I don’t mind cooking you food as well,” you reassure while giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “You need to be taken care of too. I won’t do Jack any good if you’re not healthy.”

He caves and makes his way to the kitchen. “If you insist, though, you don’t have to.”

“Aaron, the only thing I have to do in life is live it. Making you breakfast can be added to today's list of stuff to do.”

You open the fridge and pull out a carton of eggs. You watch as Aaron pulls a pan out of a cabinet, and try to make note of which one it is. The faster you memorize things, the easier it’ll be. In the case of having to rush, it’s best to know where the essentials are in the house.

“Did you eat breakfast? And by breakfast, more than coffee?” Aaron asks with a slight smile. “Because if you haven’t you can help yourself.”

You chuckle. “I’ll eat when I make Jack breakfast. I’m not in a rush to do anything today.”

Silence falls over the two of you, as Aaron sets up a lot of coffee and you start to cook. It’s nothing fancy, hard boiled eggs on toast, but you’re happy he’s going to eat. It would be nice to have Jack join, but you aren’t sure how often that’ll happen. After all, Aaron seems to be a workaholic.

“How often do you go out of state? Every week? Every other week? Should I try to pack you lunch?”

He shakes his head. “It varies by case and urgency. Sometimes it’s back to back. Other times I’m lucky to mainly be in the office. Not to mention some cases take longer than others.”

You pull open a couple of cabinets before finding the mugs. “Ah. You’ll have to keep me up to date then.”

“I promise I will. And just text if you need me.”

You give him a smile as he puts his dishes in the sink. He’s quick to grab a briefcase and a duffle bag. It’s like he feels like he has to go right at this minute. He’s fast paced. You can understand why, but you hope that you’ll be able to help him slow down a bit for Jack.

“I’ll text you when he gets up, Aaron. Drive safe.”

He flashes you a soft and tired smile before walking out the door. You stare at where he was sitting, trying to commit his mannerisms to memory. Jack adores his dad, so in an effort to be able to be there for Jack, you’d like to know why. Reading kids was easy, reading an adult man was going to be a little bit harder.

—

After Jack has woken up, devoured breakfast, and changed, you aren’t sure what to do. He’s quiet and attentive but clearly likes sports. You opt to sit on the floor with him and a deck of cards.

“Hey Jack. You know how to play go fish right? Wanna play?” you ask, patting the ground next to you. “It’s a good time to ask me anything you want to know.”

“Can we get ice cream later?” Jack asks as he sits across from you. “Dad sometimes buys me ice cream after soccer.”

You deal out the cards. “Sure I don’t know why we couldn’t. Maybe after dinner instead of right after soccer so we don’t ruin our want for dinner.”

He gives a nod. “That sounds good. There’s a place right by the soccer field that has really good ice cream. I really like the chocolate one with sprinkles on top. That’s probably my favorite.”

“Well I really like raspberry swirl ice cream. There was this place that had the best that I’ve ever had. Does your dad help out with soccer?”

The two of you go back and forth. You mainly ask Jack questions, finding out things like his favorite color and best friend. He is content to ramble on about things he wants to do or stuff he’s done. He’s eager to share stories and you pay close attention. It’s adorable how his eyes light up when he talks about his dad.

“You really love your dad, huh Jack.”

“Of course I do! He’s like a superhero and he catches the bad guys to make sure the whole world is safe and he loves me very much.”

You try not to fawn over how cute his answer is. Despite his job requiring him to be away, his son loves him so much. You know that Jack’s positive attitude about his dad is going to be your downfall, but you ignore that feeling.

“I know you didn’t get to see your dad this morning so how about I text him and see if he can video call with us during lunch. That way you can see him.”

Jack nods enthusiastically. “That’s a good idea. I really wish I could see him every day like some of my friends talk about their dads.”

You reach over and ruffle his hair. “It’ll be okay. I’ll try to set up a time to video chat with him every day he’s gone. I promise okay.”

Jack looks at you skeptically. “Do you pinky promise?”

You hold out a pinky. He quickly latches his own with yours and gives it a firm shake. He looks determined, and you’re sure if you spent enough time around his father you’d see the same face.

“I pinky promise, Jack.”

That seems to be all he needs from you. He breaks into a toothy grin and wraps his arms around you. You gently pat his back as he holds you tight and you wonder how often he gets to be held like this.

“Can you promise me something Jack?” you ask and you hear him hum in your ear. “If you ever need a hug, you don’t have to ask me. Just give me a hug when you need one.”

You hear a slight sniffle but when Jack pulls away, he’s not crying. You pause on the floor, waiting to see if he cries, but the waterworks don’t start. He’s definitely hiding some emotions, but you know you’ll get there eventually. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

“Alright, what do you want to do for lunch? I should prep it now.”

Jack bounces to the kitchen, eagerly looking into the fridge. You shoot Aaron a text asking if he can video call on his lunch. His answer is a simple ‘yes’ and you turn up your phone volume so you won’t miss it.

“Can we have grilled cheese? There’s also a bag of chips we can have.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Are you gonna want me to cut yours?”

Jack nods and you hear your phone go off. It’s still a little early for lunch, only about twenty or so minutes, but you can read Aaron’s name on the screen.

“Hey! Can we turn this into a video call?”

Aaron doesn’t respond, instead switching it to a video call. Jack puts his hands on the table as you prop the phone up.

“Since Jack didn’t get to see you this morning, I figured when you got the chance it would be good to see him.”

You watch as Aaron smiles wide. The two boys are happy to be able to talk, and you leave them to it as you make lunch. You hear snippets of course, something about ice cream, but opt to let them be.

Overall, Jack seems happy that he got to see his dad. You slice the sandwich in half and slide the plate towards him. You observe the two of them from the counter. They’re adorable together and you think about how much you would want a family. A kid like Jack would be ideal.

“Well Jack, I have to go back to work. I should be able to meet you and (Y/N) for ice cream later.”

“Okay, Dad. I’ll tell (Y/N) to order you ice cream too. I love you.”

“I love you too, Jack. Good luck at practice.”

—

For a seven year old, Jack is good at soccer. He’s fast, and able to make over half of the goals he shoots. You sit in a lawn chair at the field, slowly sipping on some water. It was still early June, but the heat has started to creep in.

You watch as a few moms chat near the parking lot, laughing amid themselves. Soccer moms could be awful, so you just hope that you won’t have to deal with them. Jack mentioned that his dad would coach sometimes, and you know that the closer you get to Jack, the more soccer stuff you’ll go to.

The kid has already perfected those puppy dog eyes. You’ll struggle to say no to anything that is in your power to do. If that boy asked you to take him to get a giant teddy bear, you would. You’re well aware of things you should and shouldn’t do, but you don’t know how careful you’ll have to be around the Hotchner boys.

As the coach blows the whistle, the kids circle around him. They have their end of practice meeting, if you can call it a meeting, before the kids run off to their parents. Jack runs straight into your arms.

“You did good out there buddy! I’m so proud of you. In fact, how about we go find a place to eat.”

Jack’s eyes light up and he nods. “I want french fries!”

You chuckle. “I’m sure I can arrange that.”

—

By now, it’s almost 7:30. You and Jack sit at a table outside in front of the ice cream parlor. Aaron had texted you saying he was on his way. Despite your reassurance, Jack looks worried.

It doesn’t take much longer before Aaron steps out of his vehicle and Jack runs to him. You step inside the parlor and wait in line. It’s best to let them have their moment. No sense in all three of you waiting in line.

Thankfully the line moves quickly, and you balance three different ice cream cones in your hands. Another customer is kind enough to hold the door open for you as you step back outside. Jack is quick to bounce over to you and take his share of the sweets.

“Thank you.” Aaron’s voice is soft and his eyes are gentle.

“It’s not a big deal. He’s been a great kid today. In fact if I’m not careful, I’ll never be able to say no to him.”

You and Aaron share a look. You can tell he knows the feeling.

“You’re free to go home now, (Y/N). I can’t thank you enough.”

You give his arm a quick squeeze. “You don’t have to. I look forward to seeing the two of you more often.”

Tags: @ash-whimsicalfanfic

#reader insert #criminal minds #aaron hotch #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner #criminal minds aaron hotch

[silverynight]

This is going to be long and forgive my spelling/grammer mistakes I'm a terrible writer

I once thought of an Au where Senjuro somehow get amnesia (But remembers his name is Senjuro) and meets the Kamado family (before Muzan) and they basically take him in as one of their own and he gets super close with Tanjirou and Kie because they feel super familiar to him the most (Big bro and Mom energy) and during his time there he decides to ink his hair black and let his bangs down (Hair would still have red tips) because he wants to fit in with the rest of the family and because he wants to explore his identity to figure out who he was

On the day of Muzans attack Senjuro asked to go with Tanjirou because he wanted to help and wanted to see the Village again (maybe to try and remember) after there interaction Senjuro has a dream with him saying goodbye to what he think is his brother only to wake up to see its morning (Skip to defending Nezuko from Tomioka) Tomioka finds Senjuro familiar but doesn’t really know why he is so familiar but leaves it alone

During Training to be demon slayer Tanjirou gives one of his earrings to Senjuro saying It will protect him and how it would be his way of making sure that he is safe Senjuro knowing the importance of the earring doesn't feel like he should hold on to it Tanjirous says That he will intrust Senjuro with the earling until the day Nezuko becomes human or when they step down as slayer (Tanjirou has one earring and Senjuro has the other) and when they both see that Nezuko is awake they both break down crying -During this time Senjuro talks to Tanjirou about his dreams and what might possibly his memories and Tanjirou help tries to help in anyway that he can but to little to no avail- on the day Tanjirou and Senjuro unshelth there swards Tanjirous changes to black but strangely Senjuro didn’t change at all but is not bothered by it and says ‘Its fine I may not have my color but that won’t stop me from reaching my goal’ (Tanjirou positivity rubbing off him) (Skip again with lower 5) As Tanjirou does that sun breathing move Senjuro joins along with him causing his sword to change black during all this Senjuro finely remembers his father and brother but not there history-During his time with the Kamados he always loved watching the hinokami kagura dance and was even taught parts of the dance-(NOW THE HASHIRA MEETING) 

(Part 1)

Thanks for sharing.

#asks #ask silverynight #demon slayer

[lostinlewis]

Old Flame ~ Part Three

Rating: M

Words: 3650

Character: Lewis Hamilton x F!Reader

Description: You learnt so much from your first love but the most important lesson he taught you was how to deal with heartbreak, even if it takes you six years. You were almost there, you almost made it days at a time without thinking about him…that was until he turned up in the most unexpected of places.

The morning after the night before stung worse than any hangover possibly could, the reality of your actions, of the words exchanged, the orgasms too, left such a distaste in your mouth you felt nauseous from the moment you had opened your eyes. 

The movies always made a rekindling blissful, serene, like the moment you found yourself in his arms again you would feel safe, you would feel happy, you would feel like you felt in the heights of your love but nothing could have been further from the truth for you. 

There was not a thing in the world that could stop your cynical inner monologue from berating every second you spent with him the night before, you felt vulnerable, you felt anxious, you felt like you had allowed yourself to be used by a man who barely had to try. 

“Good Morning baby.”

His words were the first warning that you had company in the shower as you tried to disassociate through the power of hot water covering your whole body. The second came in the form of his hands finding a home on your bare hips, an action that made your whole body tense in uncomfortability. He could feel the shift in you too, he could feel how uncomfortable his presence had suddenly made you.

He pulled your body back into his, he needed you to feel comfort, he wanted you to find it in him. He had to remind you of who he really was, not the image your mind had now curated of him. You didn’t immediately find any of that. What you did find instead was a burning ache at your core as his half hard length pressed up against your cheeks. You had almost forgotten how big he was, almost being the pivotal word because he had the kind of size that was impossible to completely forget. 

“Relax, I promise I won’t take advantage of you.” 

His words whispered as he traced kisses along the back of your neck. You let your head fall back to his chest, the warm water falling down heavy over the both of you. Your body began to relax into his, you were getting used to his touch, to being so close with him once more. His touch was unknowingly battling with the voice in your mind that tried so hard to keep you in an alert state around him, a state of sanity almost; his touch was winning. 

Your hand reached out behind you, stroking his length like the dear old friend it was. You heard him groan into your back, the feeling of your hand around his hardening made him lose focus for a moment, he was throbbing against your grip, in that moment you were the cause and the cure of all his problems. His hand brushed yours off once more, the rejection, twice now, was really starting to bother you. 

Why didn’t he want you? Why did he keep dismissing your passes? You could literally feel in your hand that he wanted you, so what was the problem? 

You turned to face him, forgetting your inhibitions and your constant need for modesty, and scowled. 

“Don’t look like that, please.” He stroked a finger over your cheek. “I want to, more than anything else right now. But I want the first time we do it to be perfect, not rushed and not in the shower.” 

“Lewis, we have had sex a thousand times.” Your frustration was flowing through your words. 

“I know, I remember.” He smirked at you as images of you bent over for him flashed through his mind. “But I mean the first time we do it, again. The first time we do it properly, if you will.” 

You could see he was struggling to get his words out properly, to really express what he meant. 

“What I’m trying to say is, I don’t want to rush into anything with you this time. I want to show you that I am serious, that I have changed. I don’t just want you for your body, and believe me I want your body, but you need to know that I want you for you. For all of you. I don’t want to hurt you again.” 

You knew you couldn’t argue with that, you didn’t want him to be a quick fuck, a fleeting fling with an ex. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle the kind of heartbreak he caused again. In that moment you were grateful, in an almost masochistic way, that the man who had caused you more pain than anyone had before, was also the man who was protecting you from it happening again. He took your silence as you processed his words as an opportunity to kiss your lips. 

“And you need to wipe that frustrated look off of your face, this is for your benefit.” He kissed you once more. “I want nothing more than to be inside of you right now, as you can tell. I don’t think I've ever been this hard without a release before.” 

“It feels like we’re seventeen again and I’m having to convince you to take my virginity.” You teased him with the memory. 

You were childhood sweethearts, you began dating Lewis at 16, he was your neighbour, the boy next door and you had had a crush on him forever. Lewis was your sexual awakening, he was the boy you thought of when you practicsed kissing on the back of your hand, he was the boy you thought of when you explored your body at night. You dated for almost a year before you did more than just kiss and dry hump in his car, it took a lot of convincing him you were ready before he would even give in.

“See, I’ve always had your best interests at heart.” You gave him a look to remind him of how you ended up in this situation. “Okay, I’ll shut up now. Are you done showering? I need to get out before I pass out, I still don’t understand why you have to have the water so hot!”

-

The rest of that morning your inner voice gave you a break from doubts whilst you adjusted to having Lewis in your home. You embraced the time you were spending with him, doing absolutely nothing apart from lounging around watching trashy television shows. Every now and then, one of his celebrity friends would pop up on the screen and you would ask him what they were like in person, he would always speak highly of them much to your annoyance, you wanted gossip not praise. Lewis was never one to speak badly of a person, it seemed like that had not changed. 

“Oh shit!” Lewis jumped up as he read the message on his phone. “I’m so sorry baby, but I have an event tonight and I can’t get out of it.” 

“It’s fine, go to your event. I could do with some alone time, all this sex has worn me out.”

“You are so annoying, you know that right?” He laughed. “You should come.” 

“Yeah right, you know I always hated your events.” You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Please come, it would mean a lot to me if you did.” He pulled out his puppy dog eyes, the ones you could never resist. 

“Lewis, I can’t…I have nothing to wear!” You thought you had found a solution he couldn’t work around, it was too short notice. 

“Then you can come with me to be styled, I’ll call ahead and book in a makeup artist too. Any other problems I have to immediately solve for you to join me?” 

“Lewis, this is not fair, I-“

“Please.” 

“Fine. I’m not going to enjoy it though.” 

“Yes, you will. You don’t always have to be this stubborn, you know.” 

He tickled your sides, the trick that he had always used to do to get you to loosen up a bit, it always worked. 

-

He wasn’t lying when he said he had stylists, four of them to be precise. Each one of them took it in turns to try a look on the both of you before settling on a black suit for Lewis with a white lace shirt that fell to his knee on one side. He looked breathtaking, you were struggling to keep your eyes off of him as his skin was worked on. For you, they picked a white gown to match his lace shirt. The gown was the most beautiful thing you had ever worn. You originally turned your nose up at white, you always figured that the colour flattered no one but as you stared at yourself in the mirror, in a gown that could quite easily be mistaken for a wedding dress, you felt like a million dollars. 

Lewis held your hand from the moment you left the stylists and all through the car journey. You both waited in the traffic line outside of the event, your stomach was awash with nerves, this had all happened so quickly and the enormity of it all was finally hitting you. 

“You look so beautiful, have I told you?” Lewis’ words broke your anxious trail of thoughts.

“Yes, about ten times in the car alone. Thank you. You look beautiful too.” 

He ran his thumb across the outside of your hand before pulling you in for a kiss.

“Lewis, there are so many paparazzi out there, are you sure about this?” He noticed how tight you had squeezed his hand, he could feel how nervous you were.

“Do you not want to be pictured?” He asked.

“It’s not that, it’s just…well, this is quite the public statement when we haven’t even spoken about what-”

“Baby, do you trust me?” He paused for a moment and then corrected himself. “Actually, don’t answer that. I want to be pictured with you, I want the world to see the person who has held my heart in her hands forever. We don’t need to have a conversation about what we are, we both know, we both can feel it. Let me show you off to the world, please.” 

There was no stubbornness after his words, although the nerves never quite settled in your stomach, his hand held yours tightly, pulling your body in as close to his as possible to shield you as you made your way through the hundreds of camera flashes. 

Once you were inside, behind the huge doors of the building, Lewis stopped and pulled you to the side, cupping your face in both hands. 

“Breathe, baby. Are you feeling okay?” You still aren’t sure how he could tell you had held your breath from the moment you left the car until now. 

“I’m so nervous, Lewis. I don’t think I can do this.” You ran a hand across your midriff. 

“Look at me.” You brought your eyes up to lock into his. “I will be by your side all night, I promise.”

He pulled you in to kiss your lips gently. 

“You look beautiful, just in case I haven’t told you.” 

-

True to his word, he stuck with you. Leading you from one group of people to the next, introducing you as his girl to everyone he met. The event was a launch for a fashion brand he had been collaborating with. What Lewis didn’t tell you about this event was that he would have to go up on the stage for a brief interview. That would mean you would be left alone whilst he did that. 

“Just stay right here, focus on me the whole time and I will be done before you can even miss me.” He kissed your cheek as he left you right beside the stage, alone. 

Watching Lewis on stage was mesmerising, you heard him speak about all of the ethical work he had been doing with the company, he spoke about his goals with the collaboration. You were so caught up watching and listening as he spoke so confidently on stage you didn't immediately notice the two women who had slid up beside you, their eyes as equally fixed on the man on stage as yours were. 

“He looks extra hot tonight.” One of the ladies spoke, breaking your trance.

“Sorry?”

“I was just saying he is hot.” She sipped her champagne glass. “Don’t you think?” 

You screwed your face up at her, there was no way she did not know you arrived with him. You knew there was an ulterior motive behind her words, you just hadn’t worked out what it was yet. 

“Can I help you with something?” 

Both of the ladies looked you up and down in unison, before the one you were in conversation with smirked. 

“You’re Lewis’ entertainment this week, right? Where did you meet, Instagram?” 

It took every little bit of restraint you had to not punch her in her smug face. You knew they were trying to mock you, to make you feel small and significant in a room full of people with notoriety. 

“Actually, Lewis and I go way back.” You felt your blood boiling at the audacity of this woman. You probably should have stopped there, you owed her no justification, she was nobody, but you didn’t, unfortunately. “You sound bitter, sweetie. Did you want me to put in a good word with him for you?”

She exaggerated a fake laugh towards her friend, the exchange was a sharp reminder of high school. 

“Oh honey, I don’t need your help. Ari, you were Lewis’ entertainment for a week a few months ago right?” 

She was directing this towards the so far mute woman that stood the other side of your three way conversation. She smiled and nodded. 

“And I was with him only last week. Look around you, there’s not many women in here that haven't been entertainment for Lewis over the past few years. Enjoy it while you can, honey. He’ll be onto the next one before you even get used to how big he is.” 

If you had been able to process her words faster, if they hadn’t absolutely cut through you like a knife, if they hadn’t played into your biggest fears, you would have replied with something witty, something to cut her back. You didn’t. Instead you froze, so still you stood you didn’t notice them both disappear and Lewis take their place, so overwhelmed you were by what you had just heard. You felt humiliated, ashamed that at this party, everyone viewed you as just another one of the many women he had been through. You were to them what you always feared, just another. 

“Are you okay?” 

You knew he knew something was said just by the tone of his voice. 

You didn’t answer him, instead you looked at him and that was enough to tell him all he needed to know. You were far from okay. 

He took your hand and led you through everyone and straight back into the car. You only really regained the ability to process words when the car started its journey back to your home. 

“I don’t know what she said to you but-” Lewis broke the silence first.

“Yes you do.” Your words were unemotional, blunt.

“Nothing I can say will make it better, I’m sorry.” He sighed, his head hit the headrest as he ran his fingers across his forehead. 

“You’re always sorry, aren’t you? Why did you bring me here? Did you want me to be humiliated? It worked, I was humiliated.” 

“Baby, please…” He reached for your hand but you brushed him off.

“No, Lewis. Enough.” 

The rest of the journey was made in silence, so many of the words unsaid by you both hung in the air but the tension filled silence smothered them to nothing, there was nothing that really needed to be said now. 

-

“Talk to me, please.” Lewis begged as you walked inside your apartment, kicking off the heels that probably cost more than anything else in the room. “Shout at me, scream at me, just talk to me.” 

He grabbed your arm, spinning you around to make you face him. 

“What do you want me to say?” You waited for him to answer but all you could see on his face was desperation. “I don’t understand why you brought me there. You knew I would be surrounded by a room full of women who had been with you. Why did you do that to me?” 

“I am an idiot. I just wanted to show you off. I didn’t think, honestly.” You rolled your eyes at him. “In all honesty, you do this weird thing to my brain. My mind becomes tunnel visioned on you. I didn’t even think about the others, they were such a small insignificant part of my life and you were all I could see. I just wanted to show you off to the world, baby. I wanted you by my side, where you belong. Where you have always belonged.” 

Your chin fell to your chest, it was so hard, everything with Lewis was so damn hard, always. He held your chin with his finger, nudging it up to look at him again. 

“I love you. I can’t help it, I love you so much.” 

Lewis always had such an emotive face, despite the fact that actions may contradict his words, you could tell he was being sincere. 

“I love you too.” You admitted, the words falling from your lips, your defence mechanisms were powerless to hold them back in this moment. 

Lewis kissed you with such force he left you unsteady on your feet. There was so much passion, so much power behind the meeting of your lips it was electrifying. He ran his hands down the back of your gown, unzipping it so it would fall at your feet. Your hands threw off his suit jacket, your fingers danced around the buttons of his shirt until it fell to join your gown on the floor. His lips traced down your braless chest, his tongue drew circles around your nipple before lightly sucking. Your head fell back as he explored your body further until he reached the thin material of your panties. He pulled them down as far as he could with his teeth before his fingers did the rest of the work.

All at once, he kissed your throbbing pearl, holding you steady on your feet with a firm hand on your behind. Your moans masked the tension in the air surrounding you both as his tongue worked to rid your mind of any anxious thoughts, of any doubts you had about him, it worked so well. 

Your hands pulled at his arms, encouraging him back up to his feet from where he was knelt pleasuring you moments ago. 

“Please.”  

He knew what you meant, he knew that you needed him more than anything at this moment, he knew he could no longer fight his own urges awaiting the perfect moment, this was it. He lifted you up, your legs locked around his waist as he carried you to your bed, placing you down on it as if you were a delicate flower before climbing on top of you. Your tongues battled for dominance as your lips worked against each other. You could feel how hard he was as his length, now free from any material, rubbed against yours. Your core was starving for him, his cock was throbbing for you. He rose to his knees once more, trailing his tip through your sopping wet folds. 

“Please.” You mouthed to him once more. 

He lined himself up at your entrance and slowly pushed only his tip in. You whimpered, he really stretched you with his size, he was so much bigger than you remembered. He dropped his face back level to yours, resting his forehead on yours as he pushed further into you, your lips grazing as your whimpers escaped. He let out a little moan as he settled fully into your tightness, allowing you to adjust as much as possible to him.

“Are you comfortable baby? Am I hurting you?” He whispered into your mouth between kisses. 

You shook your head, unable to speak with the feeling of fullness that overcame you.

He took his time with your body, making love to your body, pleasuring you with every tender motion he made. He checked you were okay a few times, so careful he wasn't hurting you as he worked towards your mutual highs. You watched his face as it contorted with pleasure, the groans he made sent shivers up your spine. As if the moment was written in a book, you both orgasmed at the same time, your undoings synchronised as well as your moans. 

He stayed inside of you as he soothed you to sleep with gentle kisses all over the parts of your face he could reach, his hand stroking your thigh as your leg was wrapped over him, holding him tight inside of your warm body. 

-

The brightness of Lewis’ phone screen woke you in the morning. Still wrapped around his body, you could feel how tense he was now despite the release he had only hours before. 

“What's wrong?” 

“Go back to sleep, baby. We will deal with it later on.”  

“No, tell me. What is it?” 

He turned his phone screen around so you could see what he was looking at, an email from his PR manager. 

‘Hamilton’s reunion marred by revelation.’ 

‘A reunion in tatters’

‘Playboy Lewis exposed - my story.’

Each headline was decorated with a picture of the both of you leaving the event last night, your faces covered in obvious anger. The last headline shared a picture of that woman, she had sold her story, and now the world would know of your humiliation. 

PART FOUR

#lewis #ex #Old Flame