#in specific circumstances. not in a circle though

[kirkwallguy]

genuine question, what about cullens crush on the mage hero is creepy? like in canon was it implied he was being weird about it that I just missed? I'm for sure not remembering every dialogue he had about them but I can't recall anything super weird?

i mean it's more the circumstances/dynamic than his actual actions - i don't think he's particularly written as a creep in the way a lot of the da2 templars are, but his crush wasn't supposed to be cute imo, it always came across as a way to make players think about the potential dynamics between mages and templars within the circles. in fairness, cullen isn't taking any steps to pursue the warden and he can't help having a crush, but it's apparently noticeable enough that people comment on it in ambient dialogue. imagine being in that situation:

he's an armed jailor whose job is keeping you in a tower against your will and killing you if you step out of line. i don't think extra attention from someone in that position would be welcome or fun as a young girl, especially an apprentice since they're in a more precarious position and more likely to be made tranquil. maybe cullen is nice and won't use his station to manipulate or threaten you, but what about the next templar to become infatuated with you? or the one after that? cullen is young and pretty and doesn't have much influence, but they won't all be like that. there are templars like ser alrik who make mages tranquil specifically to abuse them, how do you know that he won't go and whisper in the night commander's ear that he saw you using blood magic if you tell him to stay away from you? idk. i just think the whole situation is a horror story.

[spilledmilkfkdies]

Grown men btw 🗣🗣

[imflyingfish]

Fish you are so good at building to me your the Bdubs of people I know

Pheo ;w; ty

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[diamondcitydarlin]

Just fair warning- I said on my personal post about this that I wasn't going to talk about Neil Gaiman anymore, but as it's becoming clear that him and his publishers and anyone else who makes money off of him is circling the wagons and trying to bury these allegations, as well as some fans still defending and trying to 'rationalize' this information, I feel like, actually, we need to keep talking about him (as much as I cannot stand him and feel physically disgusted now when I so much as see his face somewhere). Specifically, the fact that he's a liar, master manipulator and should not, under any circumstances, be given access to his fans like he has in the past. At the very least. (And if you need to blacklist his name or even unfollow me so as to not be triggered, I completely understand, but I will always try to tag these posts accordingly and I think it's crucial right now that the truth be put where people can see)

This post specifically is in response to those 'rationalizations' I've seen, some that have gone as far as to blame the young fans/groupies that hooked up with him for being 'golddiggers' or just making a mountain out of a molehill for something they now regret. It's not that simple, yall. (And, again, this requires some amount of completely ignoring the story about him extorting his tenant for sex under threat of eviction of her and her three young children, I'm not sure how you 'rationalize' that under the best of circumstances)

So let's be clear here. What we know is that NG has routinely, for possibly an upwards of 30 years, pulled sexual 'partners' from his fan groups, most of whom are 18-22 year old young women (though possibly younger, accounts are coming forward of 16 year olds having allegedly been inappropriately touched/flirted/propositioned by him, which ig is the age of consent in the UK but still?? 16 year olds!!). This wasn't one or two times in the course of three decades, this was a constant pattern of behavior for him and for a very insidious reason.

This isn't to try to infantilize those fans or young women/young people in general or try to suggest that they couldn't have consented to sex with an older person or famous person. In fact, the onus isn't on them at all. This is about an older guy with a lot of fame, power and wealth choosing to sleep with people that he had already conditioned to idolize him and using that power imbalance to coerce them into doing things they didn't want to.

Regardless of one's age or gender identity, it can be difficult to impossible to say 'no' to someone like that. After all, you've been 'chosen' by the chosen one, you're special and not like everyone else, and if you don't do what the popular person everyone trusts is telling you to do you could end up ostracized. Alienated. Or worse. And you know what? Gaiman knew that! He knew it when he was crafting his 'approachable dad' persona on tumblr. He knew it when he was cultivating a fandom of personality. He knew it when he was having huge meetups to try to ensnare more victims. I hate to even think it, but I'm starting to believe he knew it when he was writing children's books too.

It's been talked about again and again in separate issues, but needless to say something not being strictly illegal does not make it inherently, morally okay. It does not erase the fact that this man has been essentially grooming his fandom to feel safe meeting/speaking with him so he can coerce those he can snare into sexual acts they're not comfortable with. That is predator behavior, whether strictly 'illegal' in the eyes of a court or not (but ofc I think he should be criminally punished even if I'm not naive enough to think he actually will be, because this IS rape and rape should be criminally punished)

I'm not personally advocating for anyone to give up being in his related fandoms, but what I am personally advocating for is that people don't forget who he is and what he's capable of, especially when he tries to crawl back to where he was (I'm almost certain he will eventually, as I've said).

Again, at the very least, we need to use what little influence we do have to keep him from infiltrating fan spaces again. He should not be on tumblr yukking it up with young people, he should not be at public appearances hitting on teenagers, he should not be given the unrestricted access to fans that he's 'enjoyed' for the past 30+ years because he is not a safe person. While I wish there was more in the way of restorative justice that could be done, I think at very, very least we should do what we can to limit his proximity to people he could hurt in the future. Make sure no one forgets, because sweeping this under the rug means Gaiman gets to hurt more people.

Lastly, no one is the wrong for having been manipulated by him. Let's make that very clear. What we're NOT gonna do is blame ourselves, each other, the victims, etc, for evil acts that Gaiman chose to do himself, time and time and time again. It doesn't help the situation and it certainly doesn't protect future potential victims. We were all duped because we're human and we attach and a lot of us want to believe there are good people out there, particularly those who make art that means so much to us.

And there are. But let's also use this a teaching/learning tool about how much faith we place in famous people in the future, regardless of how 'approachable' and 'safe' they might seem. Let's remember to have a healthy suspicion of creators/famous people that are oddly immersed in fandom spaces- yes, even the ones you still currently like that seem fine, as difficult as that may seem.

At the end of the day, we don't know them or what they're capable of doing or what they might be plotting to do to us. Support victims. Amplify their voices. Don't forget.

[locketsvault]

「 CUDDLING WITH XIANZHOU 」

pairings: jing yuan x reader ፥ jingliu x reader ፥ luocha x reader ፥ jiaoqiu x reader ፥ moze x reader ፥ feixiao x reader

tags: gender neutral reader, no agab mentioned, first person, fluff, cuddling/phyiscal affection

warnings: canon angst/traumas, mostly fluffy though, potential ooc for jingliu, luocha, and feixiao (still learning them), potential typos, luochas is shorter, cursing-

other parts: star rail ᨒ stellaron hunters ᨒ jarilo-vi ᨒ xianzhou ᨒ penacony ᨒ amphoreus

a/n: this should hopefully be a complete series in time. thus, I will not be taking requests for the next parts release, they’ll be pumped out in time. I do not mind taking requests on proper scenarios or more elaboration on a character though! no gender or sex mentioned, no pronouns either!

// jing yuan⌇˚.༄

⮑ He’s a big cat, yes he’s cuddly. But you have to manage to get into his inner circle first. He doesn’t touch unless he’s close to someone. It’s just not his thing. And it’s also for safety reasons yk?

⮑ He does enjoy cuddles, he never has had a stigma with it. But he doesn’t cuddle his friends. Especially because he’s a general and that’s just… very weird and unprofessional. He keeps affection for his partner and his partner only. And personally, I think it’s a good sign of trust with him.

⮑ Pda is definitely out of the question. Not because he wouldn’t like it, there’s a chance he could. But as I stated earlier, he is a general. It wouldn’t look the best, and it genuinely wouldn’t be the safest. It’s like waving a big red flag saying you’re his vulnerability.

⮑ You’re more than likely going to be the one going to him with how busy he is. When you’re both home he will definitely seek you out, he can be quite clingy depending on how much he has missed you. As I said, he’s a big cat. But sometimes he’s really busy, sometimes he’s forgetful. Sometimes he needs to rest and his first stop is bed. Even if you’re not in it.

⮑ He’s not a little spoon, that’s not his personality. But, if you tell him you want to hold him, he just might let you. Otherwise, it takes very specific circumstances. His favorite is probably having you lay on top of him, like a weighted blanket. It helps him feel more secure when he’s tired. If he’s trying to stay awake, he will take you curled up into him any way you choose.

⮑ 8/10, he is a good cuddler, when he has time.

// jungliu⌇˚.༄

⮑ The only person she will ever show affection to is her partner. You’d have to be in an established relationship for her to be physically affectionate. She genuinely views it as a weakness for her.

⮑ And I’m saying this before she’s mara struck. Afterwards is well… very different. For obvious reasons. But beforehand, she is a tough person. She’s strict, and I don’t doubt she isn’t strict on herself. Same with Jing Yuan, she is of high status. Underneath all of that though, she finds that when it’s you, she actually enjoys touch.

⮑ Pda is out of the question for her as well. Except she straight up doesn’t enjoy it. She doesn’t want to expose a weakness for herself and you. But she also finds it to be no one else’s business. She’d rather keep you to herself.

⮑ You would have to be the one to initiate physical contact with her. It’s rare that she’s the one to do it. So rare, that even years into the relationship you still get flustered when she grabs your wrist or waist. She leaves you to be the one to ask for it, since it’s not a main love language for her. It’s rare she will say no if you ask or initiate it. She does find your touch soothing. Oddly enough, if she lets you around her when she’s Mara struck, your touch is one of the few things to bring her back.

⮑ She lets you pick, she has no preference. You want her to hold you? Okay. You want to hold her? Mmm, sure. She gets your touch and sees you happy to have your cuddles. When you sleep together you’re usually entangled in one another, taking turns on who sleeps on whose shoulder.

⮑ 5/10, as long as you put in the work she is nice to cuddle. Points deducted due to her Mara struck though :(.

// luocha⌇˚.༄

⮑ His is going to be short because for one, we don’t know too much on him, and for two, I actually haven’t looked into him much. That being said, I think he could be a cuddler.

⮑ I do not think physical touch is one of his main love languages, and from the tiny glimpse into his past that we get, I feel that he has trust issues with those around him, those close to him. Still, for his partner, I think he’d be willing to cuddle them, and may even find himself enjoying it.

⮑ He will only do pda if it’s something you want. I don’t see him as wanting to be touchy in front of others, it’s not exactly respectful. And it draws attention that he does not want. Though… he isn’t above doing it to make someone jealous if they annoy him enough.

⮑ You will almost always be the one seeking him out for cuddle time. The only time he goes to you first is when he sees you need it. He doesn’t do it for himself.

⮑ Since he never does it for himself, it’s whatever position you wish to do. He will gladly do them. Though I don’t really see him being a little spoon in cuddle time. You’re always in his arms, not the other way around.

⮑ 6/10, his cuddles are actually pretty nice, but they could be better.

// jiaoqiu⌇˚.༄

⮑ Oh boy… the sly fox himself, Jiaoqiu. Oh this man is definitely a cuddler once in an established relationship, and it’s a whole other field than what we’ve already discussed. Mating instincts + his need to constantly tease you and mess with you…

⮑ Now does it say anywhere in their lore how they find partners/mates? Not at all. But picking and choosing from what they do say about foxians and what I know about foxes in general this is a headcanon ofc, they’re territorial on those they love, and they love to scent their partners. And I can totally see Jiaoqiu constantly touching his partner, nuzzling at their neck…

⮑ And did I mention he loves teasing? I feel like that’s obvious. Yeah, being his partner doesn’t protect you. He can literally hear your hearts reaction to whatever he does. And he isn’t afraid to call it out. He knows what affects you more and what doesn’t, how to get his way, how to make you flustered. Aish…

⮑ He’s 50/50 on pda. He doesn’t entirely mind it, but he does prefer to keep you to himself. He will hold your hand, wrap his arm around your waist, pull you around with his tail, little things like that. Though after he goes blind he does tend to link his arm in yours when you both are out. Spoilers, it’s not just because it makes navigation easier. Oh, and remember how I said he loves teasing? Yeah he’s not above that in public. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He uses his tail to do it fight me.

⮑ While he can be prideful, I don’t think he’s ashamed of going to you if he wants cuddles or touches. Sometimes, he won’t even ask, if he wants it he will get it. That being said… he’s very busy working for Feixiao, so he can’t always do so. The reason I’m leaning towards balanced is because of that, you may have to hunt him down sometimes. But if he can, he’ll take it.

⮑ Anything. Literally anything. Though I do thing he’d prefer to be the one holding you, he will be glad to just have your touch in general. His favorite positions would probably either be you laying on top of him or sitting on his lap.

⮑ 8.5/10, I’m reducing a .5 bc this mf really loves teasing…

// moze⌇˚.༄

⮑ This beautiful traumatized emotionally locked up boy. He’s never even thought of it before. No like genuinely… He doesn’t like to process his emotions, especially something so deep. Do you really think those at Sanctus Medicius really ever gave him positive touch?

⮑ I highly doubt he grew up with affection, let alone touch. And then later on, I don’t think he ever cared for it. And to add on, I’m sure he whole heartedly believes he does not deserve it. He’s not a good person. And why would he let someone get so close with how dangerous he is? It was easier for him to not think about it, so he didn’t. He never thought about cuddling any potential partner. Until you came along that is.

⮑ He really struggled allowing you to touch him at first. He would tolerate it, stiffen up, waiting for the pain that usually followed. The first time you hugged him he was shocked. He couldn’t run away like normal, all he could do was take it. In time he got used to it, and slowly realized why it was ever considered a comforting act in the first place. Don’t get me started on his habit to disappear.

⮑ Definitely not. Nope. Never. I personally don’t think pda would be something he’d like even if he wasn’t traumatized. It’s not his thing. But especially because of who he is now. I’m so sorry to anyone’s hearts who broke on this one.

⮑ You’ll always have to be the one initiating it. He’s prideful, and won’t admit when he needs a hug, or if he wants to hold you. And he definitely will not admit he wants to be held. You’ll always have to be the one to initiate it. The closest he will get to it, is after a particularly harsh mission (like the wardance), he will have this look in his eyes, a plea to him.

⮑ He doesn’t like to be vulnerable, he doesn’t like feeling trapped. It’s extremely rare for him to feel comfortable being in any position like that. He’s also used to being a protector, he’d want to be one for you as well. His favorite position is probably spooning, him as the big spoon ofc.

⮑ 4/10, he is comfortable to cuddle but it’s hard to get him to, and he’s got a lot of baggage to unpack.

// feixiao⌇˚.༄

⮑ Another foxian, but she is interestingly very different than Jiaoqiu. Don’t get me wrong, she’s still territorial and playful. But she follows her heart more than anything. And yes, she loves cuddling you.

⮑ Feixiao isn’t afraid of touch, she’s fully aware the harm it can cause, but she’s also aware the comfort it can bring. She doesn’t show this side though for safety reasons. But it’s never something she’s had issues with. Her foxian instincts make it stronger ofc. And if she has a partner, she genuinely loves it.

⮑ Pda in itself is something she doesn’t mind. She can watch others do it and have no issue, and fundamentally she wouldn’t mind. However… she is the general of yaoqing, the Merlin’s claw, it’s not safe for her to do so. It’s not safe for either of you, she wouldn’t dare risk your life.

⮑ I honestly believe she’d go to you a lot. Small touches, lingering, like her gaze. When you’re home and can settle in, she will cuddle you without you even needing to ask. However, she is super busy. So getting time with her in the first place is hard. You do have to seek her out still, but she doesn’t mind.

⮑ Shes pretty flexible when it comes to you wanting to be big or little spoon. She trusts you, and she enjoys both. Usually though, you both tangled into one another is enough for her. She likes laying where you’re both facing each other too. She likes looking you in the eyes.

⮑ 9/10, if she had more time she’d get a 10/10 tbh.

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[crheativity]

SUMMARY: Something goes wrong, and you’re in tears. How do the Overblot boys help you?

WARNINGS: Tried to keep things vague but sorry if it’s a lil too specific sometimes. Reader is Prefect. Written under a romantic presumption but could possibly be read platonic. The Hell Word pops up in Leona’s and Idia’s. Book 3, Book 4 and Book 6 spoilers in Leona’s, Jamil’s and Idia’s respectively. I wrote all of these late at night also, so fair warning

NOTES: sorry it’s been a while, life go brr. This is heavily self indulgent, and sorry if it’s OOC. Might do the others (First, Second & Third years) if enough people want it. 

Also, if you like this, please feel free to check out my Valentine’s Day Event!

He hesitates for a moment, hands hovering beside you as he thinks carefully about what to say. As he speaks, his voice begins to shake. 

“Thank you for trusting me of all people with your feelings and circumstances. I… I am so, so sorry, Prefect. I’m-- I wish I was good at this - there are no rules for comforting someone you care about - but I’ll do my best. I— I can’t imagine what it’s like, going through what you’re going through. What you’re about to be going through. But— of course, all of Heartslabyul and I are at your disposal. Anything, anything at all that would bring you a moment’s comfort or peace, please come to us. I— all of us care about you deeply. Please tell us what to do to assist.”

If you want it (and are willing to excuse a slightly flustered Riddle), he’ll give you a tight hug, trying to convey how much he cares about you. He hates that he struggles to talk about things like this. For you, he’ll do anything. Anything to bring your rosy smile back. And if anyone dares oppose him? Heads will roll. 

He’s been strangely quiet during your explanation, venting, tears - all of it. He waits until you’re finished - and then a moment longer, to consider his words. He reaches up to dry your tears. With his spare hand, he takes yours and pulls you a little closer, speaking in a low, gentle voice. 

“Oi, Herbivore, c’mere. It’ll be alright, you hear? You’re strong, shameless and crafty. Hell, you give that Octotwerp a run for his money. If you gotta fight tooth and claw to get through this, then I’ll fight with you, okay? Just— no more waterworks for now. Yeah, it sucks. But you’ve cried about things, so now you should have the strength to get up and stick through them. If that’s all you can manage, I’ll get Ruggie to take care of the rest. Just don’t push yourself right now, ‘kay? Good, now rest. You’ll need it after a sob-fest like that.“

He pulls you into a surprisingly gentle hug, rubbing circles on your arms. After a while, he’ll ask if you want to nap with him. Once you fall asleep, he’s calling Ruggie and making plans. No way in hell are you dealing with more than you have to. He’ll fight for you himself if he has to. 

Hearing the pain, the anguish and the tears in your voice, he has to fight back tears himself. He hesitantly reaches out for you. Pausing for a moment, he begins to speak, voice filled with emotion. 

“This is— I’m very, very sorry, Prefect. You do not deserve to go through this— any of this. Should you request anything at all, the Mostro Lounge will provide, free of charge, of course. If there is anything we— I— can do to ease your burdens, please do not hesitate to ask. The world can sometimes be a deeply flawed, unfair place. I wish that I had the power to better shield you from this side. I’m truly, very sorry, Prefect. Please know that I— we care about you. This world is a far better place for your presence in it. Please, let us return the favour for you.”

He (with permission) gently pulls you into a hug, holding you as though you were glass. He was going to find who- or whatever caused you to hurt like this and make their pitiful existence miserable. Those poor, unfortunate souls. 

As you confide in him, Jamil seems to turn strangely quieter than usual. His solution oriented mind begins to whir, thinking about what he can do to help, the logistics of it, etc. Your sniffling snaps him back into reality. Putting solutions aside for now, he reaches for your hands and squeezes them gently, offering you a small, sad smile.

“Hey, everything will work out. It sucks right now, obviously, but in a while, it’ll all be okay. That’s just the way life goes, for some reason. World shattering events can happen, but time marches on anyway. It’ll always drag you with it, too. What I mean is that because you’ll be okay eventually, it can help you be okay now. I guess. And we at Scarabia are always here for you, okay? Kalim’s… Kalim, and I’m always here for you if you need to vent or complain or if you need help. I’m never too busy if it’s you, alright? Just don’t bottle it up… that works out well.”

He smiles a little ruefully at that last comment, then takes off his hoodie and drapes it over you. He tells you to keep it - that way he’s always there with you if you need it. He squeezes your hands and rests his forehead against yours, comfortingly. Jamil wasn’t used to being quite so… hopeful. But you had helped him become better, and he wanted to return the favour.

Vil may be a good actor, but his thoughts were shockingly readable as you vented to him. He seemed to react correctly in all the right places, asking questions but never pressing for answers. When you finish, he gently reaches out and starts stroking your hair. He pulls you a little closer for comfort. He pauses for a moment, then begins to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Prefect. You do not deserve this - any of this. Pomefiore’s students and I are always here for you, no matter the need. Anything you need, it would be our honour and privilege to provide. In times such as these, I find taking care of oneself is extremely important. Not to the extent of perfectionism necessarily, but enough to bring you joy. So please, if it’s not too much trouble, please find one indulgent thing each day. Not something so unhealthy it’d ruin you, but something gentle and sweet. Like a bubble bath, or watching that movie you’ve mentioned wanting to see. It’s important to keep yourself as happy as you can, when life is attempting to do the opposite. And if you can’t think of anything, then please, come to me. Let me take care of you.”

He then, with permission, sweeps you into the biggest, comfiest, warmest hug you’ve ever experienced (Ghibli-style), and stays that way until you move. He wants to do so much more for you. He knows where you’re at, and, being the kind of person you are, he trusts you’ll know what’s best for yourself. He only hopes you let him take care of you, too.

Bro was low key in panic mode. What the hell is he supposed to say/do??? He really, really can’t afford to screw this up. He’s pretty sure he’d get a -1000 debuff to his Charisma stats if he doesn’t say the right thing. Usually, he wouldn’t particularly care if it was just some NPC he had to comfort - but this is the protagonist we’re talking about! And Ortho’s not here, just his luck! He sighs and his mind races back through every Otome/VN game he’s played and every shoujo romcom to figure out what in Twisted Wonderland he’s supposed to say.

“Uhh, that’s not very… plus ultra? Shoot, I mean-... That sounds really tough. I’m sorry, Prefect… Stuff like that is rough… I’m, uh, not the best person to go to for advice. Not particularly known for my ability to… handle stuff. mentally. But uh, I’m always here for a distraction if you need. That’s what I typically do. Distract until you don’t feel anymore haha… but uh, that’s probably not a good thing. Still, though. I’m always happy to play games or watch anime with you.. Or something. Those are my favourite things, not necessarily yours. We don’t have to. It’s honestly enough just to hang out with you… ugh, that was cringe, wasn’t it?”

Once you assure him that it was very much not cringe, he sighs in relief and gives you a small, soft smile - not an expression you’ve seen often on him. He reaches over and pulls out two controllers, throwing one to you. He boots up a game, commenting how he’s not gonna go easy on you just because you’re sad. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You cautiously ignore the thunderstorm brewing outside as you vent to Malleus about your problems. You carefully construct your words and phrases, to protect Sage Island from month-long hurricanes. After you finish, Malleus asks if you are comfortable with physical affection. With consent, he pulls you into a hug. 

“Apologies, Child of Man, I am not familiar with methods of comfort. I will do my best - I only ask for your leniency if I say something wrong, and for you to understand that all I say is with the best intentions. I want you to know that I care about you. I believe it is important for those going through difficult periods of time to know where they have true friends. No matter what, Child of Man, I wish to be counted among those. If I am, and with your permission, I will enact all I can to assist you through and out of these situations. I only ask your patience. I promise, I will do whatever you require during this time. Only speak my name, and I will be there.”

Malleus continues to hold you gently, unsure about what to do or say from here, other than gently repeating he’s here for you. He stays there with you until you are ready to move on, then takes you for a walk around campus. And this time, he’ll only go on two tangents about gargoyles you pass.

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[marzipanandminutiae]

I genuinely think there were far more trans people in 19th century western history than we're aware of, simply because of the nature of how most LGBTQ people lived their lives back then

namely, though of course this varied WILDLY by time, place, cultlure, race, gender, etc., in relative secrecy

if you go back far enough, legal identifying documents were barely a thing for many people. and even if they existed, circumstances in which they'd be checked were few and far between. surveillance was nowhere near what it is now simply because of technological limitations. and due to those same technological limitation, people were more used to accepting at face value the identities of people with bodies that varied from the norm

Gilbert and Sullivan mention, in their 1885 song "I've Got A Little List," the singer's "auntie with a mustache" (albeit in a negative context). not "well, I don't hold with all this woke DEI nonsense and have we checked Auntie's genitals and what's the marker on this alleged woman's passport?" is it very probable that the auntie was cisgender? yes. there are plenty of reasons for cis women to grow more facial hair than is average, ranging from genetics to PCOS to post-menopausal hormone shifts. before HRT, in a time with few readily accessible safe hair removal techniques (though they tried, and electrolysis had been technically available- at ruinously expensive rates -since the 1870s), you'd be more likely to encounter cis women with facial hair who chose not to try removing it. and you assumed all women were cis. so your set concept of A Woman included, potentially, facial hair, and it was less likely to make you question someone's gender

EDIT: wow okay so that is NOT an original G&S lyric! it's so borderline in terms of Poor Taste that I assumed it must be 19th century. nonetheless, references to old women with whiskers and moustaches abound in Victorian and earlier literature, so the point still stands

besides which, for a very long time, personal questions along the lines of "what's in your trousers/skirt" were considered HIGHLY impertinent

so, while there would be a world of trouble if a trans person was caught or if suspicions began to arise about their gender for some reason- the past was not a trans-friendly utopia by any means -it was often somewhat easier to fly under the radar than it generally is today. the transphobic powers-that-were were less aware of this possibility and therefore not on high alert for it, generally speaking

and since most trans people then and now want to have jobs and social circles and families and do things to which being trans is incidental, while trans, it wasn't likely that they'd call attention to themselves in a time when Closet = Safe. indeed, most trans people from that era that we know about are only publicly known because their death wishes to be buried without autopsy were not respected. I'm thinking of Dr. James Barry, Charley Parkhurst, and earlier the Chevaliere d'Eon [no, that's not a misspelling; it's the feminine form of Chevalier since she was a woman]

(you hear about more transmasc people in the history of this era because it was harder to establish an independent life as a woman, at all, without some kind of support network/establishment of Reputation in the area where you were living. unless you were a sex worker, and while we do know about some transfem sex workers of the era, the specifics of their identities are often obscured behind salacious news reports of Man Disguised As Woman Tricks Other Men Into Doing Icky Gay Things. so figuring out whether they saw themselves as women or crossdressing men can be difficult. Mary Jones comes immediately to mind)

how many similar wishes were respected? how many people slipped through history with their gender variance unremarked-upon? there's literally no way of knowing- which is good in terms of immediate postmortem respect, but leaves historians of queer subjects nowadays with a herculean task

I think, in light of all that's happening right now, I just want to remind everyone that trans people have always existed, will always exist, and are an integral part of humanity's fabric

[mariasont]

not-so-secret alignment

as spencer unsuccessfully tries to enjoy his beach day, morgan's flirtatious teasing finally prompts a subtle confirmation that you belong together

pairing: spencer reid x translator!reader warnings: fem!reader, spencer being irrationally jealous, protective spencer, fluff af, idk what else to tag rawr prompt: here wc: 0.6k

Under ordinary circumstances, Spencer would have easily gotten lost in this detailed astrophysics article he specifically chose for today’s leisurely beach reading. Black hole thermodynamics could usually consume his entire afternoon, yet here he is, stuck on the first paragraph. 

Again, it’s all Morgan’s fault — okay, and yours too, if he’s being honest, because your laughter mingled with Morgan’s teasing remarks has effortlessly infiltrated every crevice of his brain.

Spencer sighs deeply, squinting at the pages as if that’ll magically improve his concentration.

“Sweetheart, reading on vacation? You sure you don’t wanna take a break and join me for a swim? Promise I won’t let the waves get you.”

You giggle, clearly entertained. “Aw, Derek, that’s sweet. But I’m perfectly happy right here.”

Spencer’s the one who suggested the book currently balanced on your lap — admittedly, a sappy beach read, chosen specifically because he’d seen you loitering in front of the pastel-colored covers at the bookstore.

He'd bought it for you and mentioned casually that he thought it might suit your tastes, not expecting you to text him at two in the morning, a picture of the book with a caption reading, “Okay, genius, you officially know my taste better than I do. Please pick all my books forever.” He stared dumbly at his phone for a full minute, overwhelmed by the sudden, irrational desire to respond with, “Only if that counts as a proposal.” 

He resisted, obviously, replying with something decidedly less committed, but the temptation had been incredibly real.

“Suit yourself,” he says teasingly, “but the offer stands — anytime you want a little excitement, you let me know.”

Spencer clenches his teeth slightly, debating whether Morgan’s tone warrants a glare or if he’s just being absurdly petty.

With Morgan finally disappearing into the water, Spencer sets his reading down with a resigned sigh, deciding the only gravitational pull he’s interested in right now is yours. 

He leans over you, enjoying the view of your upside-down smile, eyes squinting happily at the unexpected intrusion of sunlight.

“Hi,” he says softly, hoping he doesn't sound as lovesick as he feels.

You grin sweetly up at him, wrinkling your nose playfully. “Hi yourself,” you reply, stretching a bit to tap his ankle.

Jealousy, he thinks now, is a pointless emotion — because he’s certain no one else gets to see that particular smile.

“Missed you.”

Spencer lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

You pout, fingertips tracing small circles on his ankle. “Still too far.”

Spencer leans down even further, hair falling forward, nearly tickling your cheeks and forehead. Your smile widens immediately, eyes darting around the beach before settling warmly back on him.

“You’re getting pretty bold, Dr. Reid,” you whisper teasingly, biting back a smile.

He brushes past your remark, eyes scanning your face.

“Are you hungry yet?” Spencer asks. “ I think your sun-to-food ratio is tipping dangerously.”

“I packed snacks,” you reassure him. “I’ll grab something in a second.”

Spencer nods, satisfied enough with your answer, though his attention flickers briefly toward Morgan strolling out of the waves, eyes fixed on the two of you.

“Sit up for me?” You oblige easily, lifting yourself onto your elbows, and Spencer’s hands softly brush your shoulders, gathering your sun-warmed hair and tucking it neatly behind you as you lie back down. “Better?”

“Much.”

As Spencer settles back comfortably, he catches Morgan’s suddenly cautious glance, his previously unending wit suspiciously muted. Spencer suppresses a self-satisfied smile.

It’s remarkable, really, how subtle acts — a gentle touch, a careful adjustment of your hair — can communicate far more eloquently than words.

His gaze returns briefly to the article he’s been hopelessly ignoring all afternoon, thinking perhaps he’s discovered his own personal theory of relativity.

After all, relative to you, everything else seems entirely secondary

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[lukesaprince]

Rich Part 21

Summary: Neighbour/Older!Harry. The truth is revealed and extenuating circumstances lead to y/n spilling the beans about her and Harry.

Warning: HELLA SMUT!! Daddy!kink, oral (f receiving), dirty talk (degradation and praise ofc), spanking, spitting kink, creampie, mentions of death (specifically a child) and grieving, poor mental health.

Word count: 17k+

Author's note: I recommend reading Part 20 before this one as it's a direct continuation! Part 22 already has 7k words written so I PROMISE you won't have to wait a month to read more of my babies. Enjoy 😚😚

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- Find my General Masterlist here -

“Please… Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

His mouth slotted with yours like the final puzzle piece. Smooth and effortless, melting into you while his hand moved from your neck to grab onto your hair. He was simultaneously protecting your head from the door and tugging right at the root of your pretty hair. 

The sting had you whimpering into his mouth, hands through his hair and over his chest and just everywhere while you reached up on your tippy toes to kiss back harder. You quite liked feeling smaller than him and Harry loved being bigger than you. Taller than you. Pressing his full body weight into you until all you could feel was him. 

“I don’t… I don’t have much time.” You murmured into his mouth, gasping as the kiss broke and he let his mouth skirt over your jaw. You always did have a sensitive neck. It was a sweet spot for you and Harry knew that. At this point he had memorised all your erogenous zones and the little things he did that turned you on and considered himself an expert in how to take advantage of it. 

He was always learning new things about you. Every day he found new details about you and fell deeper in love because of it. 

“You do.” His smirk curled against your jaw and focused one hand on your hair to tug your head back while the other squeezed over your waist. 

“I really don’t. My parents will see my car and wonder where I am. They’d be offended I saw you before them.” 

“I think they’d be a little more than offended if they knew what you were doing here. Wouldn’t they, darling?” 

Your gasp got caught in your throat, muffled by a moan when he bared his teeth against your neck. His mouth cushioned lower, tracing over what felt like every single inch of your bare skin. 

“Probably.” You just hummed in response, letting your eyes flutter closed while you relaxed into the feeling of his soft, wet tongue over your neck. 

“What would they say if they knew you called me Daddy, hm? Bet your mother would faint, wouldn’t she? Her darling little y/n.” Harry pulled away so you could watch the way his lips wrapped around each syllable. He pressed his hand over your throat again, keeping you pinned there as he undid the bow of your sweatpants. “Come on, baby. Tell me what she’d say.” 

You didn’t think he’d want a response to that when it sounded so rhetorical. More like a tease than something he wanted you to respond back to. 

“I don’t know. I don’t even want to-” the words got stuck in your throat when you felt his nimble fingers slide along the waistband of your sweatpants. He smirked at your reaction, scanning every inch of your face while languidly stroking your lower belly. “-to think about it. It's mortifying.” 

His eye contact was making you want to pass the fuck out and when his fingers found the band of your underwear you nearly did. You had missed this. The cat and mouse game. The teasing. Though it usually took a lot longer than the time you had. 

“It’s not mortifying when you’re doing it, though. Is it, baby?” He cocked his head, maintaining eye contact as he started to trace over your underwear down towards your clit. You shook your head quickly, grabbing onto his forearms. 

“Words.” He warned. 

“No. No it isn’t.”

“Feels quite… good. Doesn’t it?” He pressed right over your clit, rubbing purposed circles. The friction of your underwear was driving you crazy. But you wanted more and you were a little conscious of the time. 

“You know it does.”

“I know.” He smirked, leaning in to kiss your neck again. “I make you feel good. Don’t I?”

The questions were making your head spin. “Yes… yes.”

The friction suddenly disappeared from your clit, but just as you were about to make a noise of disdain, his hands were hoisting your legs up around his waist and he was carrying you through the house to his dining room. He set you down on the edge of the table, reaching in to kiss you deeply just long enough to have you gasping and tugging at his hair.

The kiss broke and his mouth trailed down your neck again. You made a pretty little whimpering sound that had Harry smirking against your skin while he worked on removing your pants properly. 

“I love when you do that…” he groaned, nimble fingers sliding along the waistband of your sweats, tucking into them and your underwear at the same time before very easily pulling them down under your ass until they fell to your ankles. The cool air hit your clit instantly, sending a chill down your spine and the tension of your legs that only increased when Harry continued to talk dirty to you. “When you whimper all pretty for me… ‘s my favourite thing in the world. Never takes long either. Could just kiss you and you’d moan for me. Isn’t that right?” 

His question hung heavy in the hair but all you could focus on was the sight of him dropping to his knees before you to help guide your feet out of the bottom half of your clothing. 

“Uhuh.” You agreed haphazardly, sweeping your hand through his hair at the first touch of his lips against your knee. He kissed down your calf until that ankle was out of your pants then switched sides to do the other, this time kissing up from your ankle to your knee to the sensitive skin of your thigh.

“Why don’t I give you something proper to moan about, hm? Would you like that, pretty girl?” Harry let his lips brush against your skin while his hands ran up and down your legs, running his thumbs over your knees like he was about to pry your legs open and dive right in.

Every touch had you breathing heavier, already getting worked up just from a few little kisses. It didn’t help that you were already on edge from his earlier teasing and knowing that things would get a little rougher than usual only made you needier.

Sex always was a bit rougher when ‘daddy’ came into play. Harry took on the role in full force and took full control of the scene. He usually spanked you more, grabbed you more, fucked you harder. Fuck… you hoped he’d spit in your mouth too, maybe smack his ringed fingers over your clit. You could ask for it of course and he’d happily oblige (with a bit of teasing and degradation to accompany your request of course), but it was so much hotter when he just did it. When he owned you and treated you like a hole to use. 

“Yes.” You nodded eagerly, tugging his hair a little harder. He smirked and nipped at your thigh, grabbing your calves to pull you forward until your legs widened to fit him between them. Grabbing your face suddenly, he squeezed your cheeks roughly until you whined in pain. 

“Where are your manners, huh? I thought I taught you better than that.” He tutted, maintaining eye contact while he spit suddenly on the fingers on his other hand before reaching between your bodies to find your clit. Harry didn’t want to stop looking at your pretty eyes for a single second. The moment he found your clit he tapped against it roughly, making your back arch at the repeated sting of his fingers. His saliva only made it hurt more and yet you found yourself loving every second of it. 

“Shit.” You cursed, clutching onto his shoulders. The sting had your toes curling, knees dug into either side of his hips in an attempt to curb the ache. “Shit.”

“If you’re a good girl, y/n, you’ll get treated nicely. Don’t you know what happens if you’re not, hm?” He smirked, pressing his palm to your clit while sliding two fingers down through your labia. You were soaked, already dripping for him to do something. Anything. He circled his fingers over your entrance, pressing just enough to make that delicious whimper echo around his kitchen before he dragged them back up to your clit. “Or has it been that long since I put your attitude in check?”

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Harry repeated the same movements, torturously dragging up and down… up and down from your clit to your entrance without doing anything remotely close to satisfying. 

“‘M sorry. I’m sorry Daddy. I got… fuck” you cursed when he nudged over your clit again. It was just a game now, a sadistic little game to see how wet he could get you without actually giving much pleasure. “Excited.”

“Excited? Or selfish?” He cocked his head, grinding his palm to your clit while squeezing your face a little harder. “Being needy doesn’t give you an excuse to be ill mannered.”

“You’re right. I’m-I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. I’ll be good. I promise.” The words came out as a hushed whimper of strung together desperation. Harry was loving every second of it. 

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes. Please, Daddy.”

“Gonna let me do anything I want?”

“Anything. Anything.”

His cock stirred at the thought of being able to do anything to you. To have complete control over you. Of course, you truly had the power in the situation, but he loved that you chose to let him take the reigns. 

“Open your mouth.”

Harry slid his hand down to your jaw to give you space to move your mouth and as soon as you did, your lips parted just wide enough for him to spit right on your tongue. The sight was obscene. Your tongue sticking out to catch his saliva, his mark, his ownership. Your eyes were all glazed and pretty and you looked happy to take whatever he gave you. You were happy. 

He just couldn’t help himself, really. Couldn’t stop himself from getting a taste of your pretty mouth. It would’ve felt wrong not. You were his girl after all. His love. Kissing you was part of the job. 

Harry was quick to dart out and clasp his lips with yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth so he could rub his saliva over your tongue with his own. It was feral. Sloppy in the best way possible. He slid his tongue against yours, spreading his spit and the new saliva from your kiss everywhere.

You loved when he kissed you sloppy. When it was way too inappropriate for outside eyes. Something just for you. While his tongue told you exactly how he felt about you, he grabbed onto your hips and pulled you forward until you slid off the table, landing on your unsteady feet. 

“Take this off, yeah? Let me see how pretty you are.” He murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to speak while tugging upwards at the end of your t shirt.

You quickly obeyed and ripped your t shirt off, letting it land on the floor without care. You didn’t bother putting a bra on when you left Lucy’s, not when you were just going home and seeing Harry quickly - or at least you thought it would be quick - so you were left bare. Now you were grateful that you decided to do that, especially from the dark-eyed reaction you gained from your bare breasts being exposed to your lover.

“Fuck baby. Got the prettiest tits ever.” Harry cursed, palming over your exposed breasts while he connected your mouths again.

Your hands found home in his hair, reciprocating happily to his enthusiastic kissing. It was such a power imbalance being completely naked while he was still fully clothed. The anxious part of you hated it and felt so… small. Exposed. The bigger part of you, the one that got off on being submissive and degraded frothed over it. There was no feeling like his fully clothed body against your fully bare one, other than skin to skin contact of course.

That was your favourite.

“Driving me fucking crazy like this.” Harry murmured again, keeping one hand on your breast while the other trailed upwards to the little pearl necklace permanently fixtured on your neck. You only took it off to shower, otherwise it never left your body. You couldn’t bare to part from it because it was a constant reminder of Harry. Like he was always with you.

And you happened to love how possessive he became when his eyes landed on the little string of pearls. How they darkened ever so slightly. When you were in public it turned into a kiss or his hand squeezing your hand or waist, like it triggered some obsessive reaction. You weren’t sure if he caught onto the fact that the necklace somehow pavloved physical touch, but you did.

Sometimes you liked to draw attention to it on purpose to tease him, not that he knew he was being teased. When you were talking you might brush your hair away from your neck or fiddle with the pearls to draw his eyes there. It was fun. A game you were winning even if he didn’t know he was participating.

“And this…” He hooked his finger into the necklace, tugging it gently while simultaneously tugging at your bottom lip, releasing it with a pop. “You’ve got no idea how sexy you look with nothing on but this.”

“I never take it off…” You sighed.

“I know. I love you more for it.” He mused, nipping on your neck. “If that’s even possible.” Your head lulled back when he ran his hands down over your body again, landing on your hips where he quickly spun you around to face the table and pressed himself against you. “Love how soft you are too…” He complimented, pressing spongey kisses along your shoulder. 

You braced yourself against the table, letting yourself be pushed down flat against it by a gentle hand on the middle of your back.

“How you feel in my hands… my mouth…”

His mouth replaced his hand, trailing down until he was crouched behind you. God the sight of you was driving him crazy. 

Running his hands over your ass, he pressed a kiss to one of your cheeks, dragging his bottom lip against your skin as he released before kissing over to your other cheek. Then he spread you wide, eliciting a gasp when he spanked you and groaned at the way your skin rippled then spread you open again. 

“My tongue…” 

And then you felt it. His hot tongue met your clit, swiping through your labia right to your tight ring of muscles where he decided to focus his attention. Harry was aware you two didn’t have all the time in the world, but he just couldn’t compromise on his favourite thing. Tasting you. 

Your flavour, your scent, how wet you got. Like silky honey dripping down his throat and coating his lips. He was obsessed with it. Which is why he let himself a few moments of flicking his tongue against your ass before he moved down to one of his favourite parts of you. That pretty little clit. 

Your moans were like music to his ears. An array of whimpers and whines, pleaded whispers of his name and his honorific. There was nothing like hearing the moan of his name, even moreso when he was being your ‘Daddy’. You were much more pliant, more responsive. He wasn’t sure if it was your submission kicking in more than usual or because your kink was being stroked the entire time. 

Either way, he was reaping the benefits. 

You were so hot and sweet and were wiggling like a fucking worm in his grip. He had to hold onto your hips harder to keep you still, but that didn’t stop your clenching and trembling when he sucked particularly hard on your clit or fucked his tongue inside you. 

So fucking responsive.

“God, you taste so fucking sweet, baby. My favourite meal in the world.” He praised, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking a little rougher than usual just so you’d cry out for him.

“Please. Please.” You begged, forehead pressed against the table.

“What?” Harry mused, sliding his tongue toward your entrance and pressing it there. You clenched on impact and he could feel it at the tip of his tongue. All he could think about now was getting inside you. God, he was so hard. So painfully hard. 

“Need you. Please, Daddy. Need your cock so bad.” You begged clearly this time, needing to be filled more than anything. 

“Yeah? Need it bad, do you?” Harry stood up, kissing your cheek on the way up before he was ridding himself of his clothing. He was already hot and worked up and he knew that the moment his cock touched you he’d be sweating all over. Besides… he wanted to feel you. He wanted to press his chest into your back and feel your thighs against his.

He craved the intimacy of skin to skin like nothing else.

“Yes. Fuck. Yes.” You sighed, nearly screaming in relief when you felt the tip of his cock bump against your clit. 

“I’ll give it to you baby…” He soothed, dragging his tip through your folds to collect your wetness over his cock. “I’ve got you…” His tip pressed against your entrance and you swore you could’ve cried when he slowly pushed in. “Shit.”

“Fuck.”

He stretched you slowly, torturously, like he wanted you to feel every inch of his cock. Every vein and ridge and the way he got slowly wider at the base. It wasn’t something you’d feel when he was fucking you roughly, but God it was all you could feel now. The stretch, the ache, the way your knees buckled when his hand pressed into your lower back to keep you still.

And then the slow, tortuous teasing ended and without any warning he drew his hips back and slammed back into you in a way that had your lungs losing all their breath. His hands were firm on your hips, fingers dug tightly so there was this constant ache that seemed to reach its way straight to your soul. 

And you fucking loved it. Every bruising thrust, every snapping sound, the way Harry moaned and cursed, telling you exactly how much he liked it. He never was shy from making sounds of pleasure and it was one of the things that made sex with him so hot. 

“You’re so tight. Shit, baby. Always so fucking tight around me.”

“Oh God. Harry!” 

“Wrong name, sweetheart.” He reprimanded with a heavy spank on your ass, the snapping sound echoing throughout the room. “Say the right one. Say it.” 

“Daddy.” You moaned pathetically, earning another spank right on the other cheek. The sting was the most satisfying sort of burn, a pain that lingered and ached but only made everything so much better. It fuelled your pleasure, contributing to the orgasm you had been waiting for twice now. 

It didn’t take long to reach it. Not when he had already teased you with his mouth and fingers and now was fucking you so damn good you could barely breathe. Harry didn’t stop once you rode through your orgasm, no, he took it as an opportunity to give you barely ten seconds of rest and flip you around so you were lying flat on the table. He was nestled back in you before you knew it, in a single fluid thrust that had you crying out from sheer sensitivity. 

He didn’t seem to care, or he did but just liked to see the way the tears streamed down your face. And you were okay. He knew you were okay because he checked in with you in that ten seconds of rest, making sure you were green before he flipped you over to fuck you how he wanted. 

And fuck. This was how he wanted you. 

“You just take it so fucking well, don’t you sweetheart? Always squeeze around my cock so tight.” Harry uttered through gritted teeth, fingers achingly squeezed into your cheeks while his eyes remained glued to where you two were connected.

Harry always loved fucking you from behind. The heart shape of your ass, the way he could see all your pretty holes and how you clenched around him, the way he could get his cock inside you deeper than other positions… how he could grab your hips and fuck you hard, bruising your insides and out. He liked being able to spank your pretty ass and thumb at your tight ring of muscles and he especially liked spreading your cheeks and burying his face between them. 

But nothing compared to watching your face. The way your eyes would roll back into your head, how they’d flutter and close when something felt especially good. The scrunch of your nose and furrow of your brow and the way your mouth would part in a whimper when something hurt a little too good. The way your jaw would clench and slack and how dazed your eyes got when he wrapped his hand around your throat.

He loved watching the effect he had on you. Your face showed him how good he was making you feel in a way your body didn’t and it became a little game to him on how to get you to make certain facial expressions. 

Mostly though… he liked watching your eyes gloss over the harder he fucked you, the meaner he was. He loved to watch you slip into an ultimate state of submission and pleasure. 

“Daddy…” You moaned, unable to come up with anything in reply to him. You were already too far gone. 

“I know.” He sympathised. “Shit baby, you feel so fucking good. So good. Got the best pussy, you do.” 

There was nothing like having a man moan for you. When they whimpered for you, praised you.

“Love your cock.” The words tumbled out without real thought, “feels so good. Always need it so bad.”

Shit. You didn’t talk dirty very often, not that Harry minded. He liked to watch your reactions when he uttered total filth. But Jesus… when you said anything remotely sexual like that, that you loved his cock? For a moment he feared he was going to prematurely cum before he made you finish for the second time. 

“I love when you talk dirty to me, baby, but you’re gonna need to stop if you want me to keep fucking you.”

You let out a choked laugh at his words, loving how one small compliment had him stilling for a second to collect himself. You clenched on purpose, gasping with a smile when he pinched your cheeks a little harder. 

“Spit in my mouth.”

Now you were just fucking with him. Through the haze of your pussy being completely destroyed by him, you still managed to tease him and be a fucking brat. 

“God, you’re fucking filthy today.” He gritted, cocking his head while sliding his hand down your jaw to the top of your throat so he could tuck his thumb into your mouth. “Open up.”

Your lips parted instantly, earning a pleased ‘good girl’ in return that had you happy as anything. “Stick your tongue out.” Again, you followed his instruction instantly, whimpering when his fingers dug into the sides of your neck with purpose. “That’s it. Good girl.”

It all happened so fast. The praise. The hammering of his hips against yours. The woozy pleasure feeling clouding your brain like a drug. All of it. And then it happened. Harry collected the saliva in his mouth and spat it all over your tongue, watching with sick satisfaction as your saliva slid down to the back of your throat. He groaned loudly and leaned in to kiss you fiercely, picking up the pace against your hips in a way that had tears trailing down your face. 

It was so good. So so fucking good. It felt like your whole body was on fire. Every square of your body was pressed against his and when he fucked you particularly hard, the dining table scraped across his gorgeous wooden flooring. Harry didn’t give two fucks about his scratched floors, if anything he liked the thought of always looking at a constant reminder that you were his. 

“Can’t believe what a little slut you’re being tonight.” He grinned, palming over your breast and pinching your nipple until you cried out and arched against him. “You fucking love my spit, don’t you? That’s why you asked for it. Because you love being my filthy little slut.”

Filthy little slut. God you loved when he was a little mean to you. A lot mean sometimes too. 

“Uhuh. Love it so much.” You nodded enthusiastically, well, as enthusiastically as you could after an orgasm and his cock so deep inside you, you swore you felt it in your throat. 

“Yeah? Take some more than. Since you want it so fucking bad.” He spat into your mouth again, using two fingers to roughly spread it over your tongue. He pushed them back, laughing when you suddenly gagged around his fingertips. “Aw, poor baby can’t even handle my fingers, hm? How do you manage my cock then if you can’t even take two fingers down your throat?” 

He grabbed your neck this time and pushed you back until you were lying down on the table before grabbing your ankles to hike them on your shoulder. 

Yeah… a lot mean was fucking hot. 

“Harry.” You protested, covering your face with both hands. 

Your whole body was heating up from how mean he was being. Maybe even a little shy at how much you liked it. It shouldn’t have been a surprise anymore that you liked it, not when you two had so much practice with it. Yet you still found yourself getting nervous when he looked at you a certain way or said a certain thing. You rather liked it like that. You never wanted to lose the butterflies. The romance. The big pile of mush you turned into when he degraded you and used you. 

“Don’t start being shy now, Angel. You know you like it.” He smirked, reaching forward to grab your hands from your face. He interlaced your fingers, drawing your hands down to rest on your belly so he could look at you. “Wanna look at you, baby. You’ve got the prettiest face. Look so gorgeous like this.”

Every word seemed to be egging you on, drawing you closer to the inevitable ecstasy that would flood through your core. The angle was so intense, so deep you knew that if he pressed on your belly, his cock would press through. 

“Oh god. I’m… shit. I’m so close.” You moaned, squeezing his hands and digging your heels into his shoulders. 

“Give it to me, baby. Tell me what you need.”

“My… my clit.”

Harry kept one hand intertwined with yours while the other moved down to your clit. He rubbed purposed circles over your bundle of nerves, delivering such perfect pressure it barely took a murmured ‘I love you’ for that wave of white hot pleasure to rush over you. His thrusts stilled at the feeling of you clenching around him and he was quick to widen your legs and fold over you so he could lazily slot your lips together. 

With a curse and a pretty whimper into your mouth that had your head spinning, Harry thrust once, twice, three final times until you felt his hot cum fill you up. His body was so heavy over yours, your sticky bodies pressed and joined together. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, wanting to keep him as close as possible to you. 

“God, that was so good.” He murmured, tucking his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“Agreed. I’ve missed that” you whispered, panting slightly as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Me too. Fuck.” He propped himself up over you, pushing your hair back from your face. “Are you okay?”

You smiled and let out a small laugh, tipping your head up so you could kiss him. “I’m more than okay. Two orgasms equals a happy girl.” 

“And what does three make you?” He grinned. 

“An even happier girl, possibly a tired girl.” You smiled, reaching your arms above your head to arch your back in a stretch. He shook his head and stood back straight, scanning his eyes over the light sheen of sweat on your pretty skin. 

“And you’re not tired now?” Harry raised his brow, looking down at your pussy to watch himself pull out. He did so slowly, careful not to hurt you and was completely mesmerised by the trail of cum that followed his cock. 

“Fuck.” You whispered, feeling an ache when he fully pulled out of you. “Of course I’m tired. A little sore too. I think I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight.”

“Mh. Me too. Wish we could sleep together.” He replied, eyes glued to his cum slowly dripping out of you. “I don't think I’ll ever get over how hot it is to see you like this.”

“Mmh.” You agreed, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at his cock covered in your cream. “I always thought creampies were overrated before you. Now… I love it.” Your eyes flickered back to Harry, who was already looking right at you with this dark look that made you want to climb all over him again. “I like feeling it later… even if it’s a little gross to sit in cold cum.”

Harry scrunched his nose up at that, “You could’ve made that so much sexier, y/n. Now when you go home I’ll be thinking of stale cum.”

“I didn’t call it stale! I said ‘cold’.” 

“Like that’s any better?” He laughed, leaning in to kiss you. “I’ll grab you some water and a towel, okay? Stay here.” 

“Like I’d go anywhere, I’ll drip stale cum all over your floor.” You shot back as he was already walking into his kitchen. You loved his ass. It was just so cute half the time you had this temptation to just whack it but you knew he’d hate it and probably retaliate ten times worse. 

There was something so sexy about him walking around stark naked without a care in the world. He had such confidence in his body and himself that he really didn’t care. You weren’t as confident as he was in that department but being with him had definitely made you more confident in your skin. 

“It’s already on my table, y/n. The floor won’t make much difference.”

You clenched up immediately at that comment, trying to stop more of his cum from dripping out of you. “Yeah… we’ve got to sanitise this. We eat here.” You scrunched your nose and sat up to look at the spot between your legs, finding his cum already dripped onto the table. 

“Baby I’d sanitise the entire house if it meant I got to fuck you anywhere and everywhere.” He smirked, coming back with a big glass of water and a damp tea towel. He had already cleaned himself up and was quick to crouch down before you to clean you up as well. You didn’t get very nervous about the cleanup anymore. Harry had wiped you clean and taken care of you dozens of times. 

“Thank you.” You smiled, grabbing the glass from where he had put it on the table beside you. “Your bed’s next. When we have more time.”

“I still can’t believe we haven’t christened my bed yet. It feels wrong.” He murmured, watching you 

shakily bring the glass to your lips while he grabbed your underwear from the pile of clothes on the floor and dragged them up your legs.

“I know. I’ve missed your bed. It’s a lot comfier than mine, more space too.” You had this little mischievous grin playing on your lips, one that Harry found incredibly sexy. 

You were still breathing a little heavily and managed to finish half the glass by the time you lifted your hips and Harry adjusted your underwear back in place. You attempted to set the glass down on the table beside you but before you could, he stood up and stopped you with a finger pushing the cup up towards you.

“Ah. All of it.” He tutted, looking at you expectedly until you brought the cup up to your mouth again. He maintained eye contact with you, one hand rubbing over your bare thigh while he kept a single finger underneath your glass. It was firm enough to tell you to keep drinking, but not enough so you wouldn’t be able to move the glass on your own. “Good girl… that’s it, drink all of it. Atta girl.”

You loved being fucked rough and dirty and since you two decided not to use condoms, your favourite thing was being pumped full of his cum, even more so when he degraded you when it happened. Like he just did barely two minutes ago. But there was something even better about the aftercare. His sweet tone, his commanding and caring nature as he got you water and a snack. All of it. 

And the praise. Somehow it was so much sexier when you two were post-sex, even more so when it was casual. A nonchalant ‘good girl’ when you did something he asked or a loving ‘I’m so proud of you’ when you got a good grade or finished an assignment. His atta girl at finishing your water nearly made you drop to your shaky knees and get him nice and hard again with your mouth. 

He said the words like they were nothing then moved on, not really caring that you were like a frozen deer at the first sign of praise. “I happen to like your bed. It’s cosy.”

“Yeah…” you breathed, “cosy and next to a thin wall where even adjusting in my bed can be heard by next door.”

“You don’t think they’d like hearing you call me ‘Daddy’?” He grinned, putting his sweatpants on and grabbing your t shirt to help put that on you too. You’ll definitely have to shower the second you walk into your house. There’s just no way you don’t smell like a sex club. 

“No, I don’t think so.” You finished the very last sip of your water, making sure there wasn’t a single drop left in the glass. Once it was all gone, Harry grabbed it from you and placed it down on the table out of the way, tipping your head up with a gentle finger under your chin while his thumb rubbed over the leftover wetness around your mouth from your drink.

“Thank you.” You whispered, kissing his thumb.

Harry smiled softly and guided your mouth to his for a single, deep, core-clenching kiss. It felt like a kiss that was promising so much more and even though you just had your fill, literally, it didn’t make you any less insatiable for him. There was just something about Harry dominating… truly dominating that turned you into a horny little rabbit. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if Harry called you that one day. It felt like the less you saw each other, the more insatiable you became. With the last couple of weeks being so busy, each time you’ve seen each other had been takeaway or a quick dinner and quick - but good - sex. You didn’t have proper time together and while fucking until the morning sounded and felt like a good idea in the moment, when you both woke up and Harry had his long commute to work or you had a day full of classes it became a regret.

Well, not a regret per se. You’d never regret sleeping with him. Ever. But you both complained about being tired the entire day to each other. More you than him since you loved to complain about everything and now Harry was fortunate enough to be the one to hear it all. It was worth it, but it was hard.

You couldn’t take every weekend, or even every second weekend off work to spend time with Harry because you needed money and he couldn’t ‘work from home’ to spend time with you. Driving so much took it out of both of you too so it was always easier if he stayed the night. Things would change once your parents knew and you had a bit more freedom… but you had a feeling they wouldn’t be totally happy with you spending nights with him instead of them.

And next door to top it all off.

Your anxious feelings didn’t help the situation either, but even with that little hiccup, you had missed time. Time where you two could just explore each other's bodies and try new things, go multiple rounds without the stress of your responsibilities. You had that before you two started dating so you knew that the changes to your sex life were mostly your fault. Or because of your situation. 

If you lived closer things would be a lot easier. But that was also life and you two were figuring out what worked for you and now to manage it all. Ideally, once you were finished with university, maybe you two would move in with each other or at the very least you’d want to live much closer to him. 

It was still so early into your relationship and you didn’t want to jump too far… but being full of his cum made your brain a little dizzy and romantic. Suddenly you were ready to forget your birth control and let him fuck a baby in you so you could be at home with him all the time. As a fantasy of course. 

Which is why your post-sex horny brain took a few seconds longer to process the next words out of his mouth. 

“Hey, um. I need to tell you something.” He whispered, forehead pressed against yours. He slid his hand along your cheek to cup your face, letting his fingertips comb through your hair a little. 

“Hm?” you asked, brows furrowing when you read the nervous look in his eyes. Your stomach dropped suddenly and that anxious gut feeling felt more rampant than ever. “What is it?”

“I have to go back to London.” 

“Oh, okay.” You were a little taken aback. Harry hadn’t mentioned any trips or work events or anything recently. The timing of it right after the phone call too felt a bit unnerving. You just hoped everything was okay. “When?”

“Just over a month.” He murmured, feeling that steady beat of anxiety claw at his throat. Harry hated that he had to ruin such a good moment, such a pleasurable, romantic experience to talk about this. He wasn’t sure how you’d react and it scared the hell out of him. 

“Wow, that’s short notice.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, threading your fingers casually into his hair. “Is it… family? Or work or?”

“Family. I…” he swallowed thickly, hugging his arms around you. “It’s my sister’s birthday. Everyone’s going to be there.”

“That’s great.” You smiled, relieved that it wasn’t something horrible. That he was okay. “That’ll be such a nice trip, Harry. Did you saw them last year when you went over?”

Harry didn’t speak about them a lot. He didn’t not speak about them and when they came up he always had something to say, but it also wasn’t a topic he brought up by himself. He spoke about his travels quite often, but even that topic hadn’t come up in a while. You were a little glad actually because you didn’t really want to think about him going away for so long. The thought of him in Italy looking all gorgeous and tanned without you made you violently ill. 

Harry shook his head and sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I haven’t been completely honest with you about my family.”

And there it was. 

“What do you mean?” You asked softly, trying not to jump to any conclusions. Whatever it was had to be deeply personal and you knew that. 

After the very brief mention of his nephew passing, you two hadn’t spoken about it once. You wanted to ask but it never felt like the right time and after that phone call, the last thing you wanted to do was make him think you were pressuring him into talking. 

And now to learn there was more… 

“Well… you know how I told you about my nephew?” You nodded, “When he died… it was right around the time I was meant to move here. The timing was so fucked. My flight had been booked for months and it was scheduled for the week after the funeral. Everything was packed and ready to go and my job was due to start only a few days after I landed in Melbourne…”

“That must’ve been so hard, Harry. I can’t imagine having to leave everyone so close to his passing.”

“It gets worse, y/n.” He shook his head, looking down at the floor. “When Harry Jr died, it really fucked me up. I already wasn’t in the best mental state because of my ex, even if I thought I was fine, and I couldn’t handle it.” You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with it. It was clear he did something, but what? “Harry Jr was like my own kid. Him and Lola were everything to me but he was just… like my twin. Lola and I were close but it didn’t compare to the bond Harry and I had. Losing him was… the worst thing that has ever happened to me and as fucked as it was and still is, I couldn’t handle it.”

Harry was starting to get worked up. His words were becoming a little shaky and you could feel how tense he became. He was holding onto you so tight and yet he was avoiding looking at you. He was scared to hear how you were going to react and he was having a hard time finding the words to explain what he had done. 

Practicing with Max did nothing to help. He had told people before and been faced with his actions for years so it wasn’t a new discussion to have. But telling you, the love of his life, how he betrayed and destroyed his family only to keep himself distanced because he was a coward was the hardest it had ever been.  

“Everyone grieves differently, Harry. It would’ve been hard for everyone.” You tried to soothe, combing through his hair. 

“I changed my flight to the day of the funeral.” He just went and said it, immediately feeling your fingers stop in his hair and how you seemed to pull your body back from his. You didn’t mean to do it, but you were a little shocked. “I spent days breaking down and feeling the most depressed I had ever been. The idea of going to that funeral and seeing the small coffin… I couldn’t do it.” He stepped back from you, running his hands through his hair. He was shaking, his throat aching with how hard he was willing away the tears. His eyes were stinging and he didn’t want to face you as he explained the rest of the story, even when you slipped off the table and whispered his name, stepping forward to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“I skipped the funeral without telling anyone and I flew here to start my new life.” He paused, swallowing thickly, “I left her, y/n. I left my only sister on the worst day of her life because I couldn’t handle it. She lost her son and I left. I left!” The words came out in an angry spit and his shoulders seemed to widen and slump forward like he was holding back immense rage. At himself. “We fought and she said she’d never forgive me again, fuck I can’t forgive myself. I don’t even want to.”

You were a little thrown off balance, to be honest. You never expected him to say any of that and to hide it from you for so long. But you couldn’t be upset either. He made a terrible mistake and you could see how badly it was eating him up. Harry was a proud person and very rarely doubted himself or his actions, yet you knew he was so ashamed in himself for what he did. It was hard to see. 

“Harry…” You tried to get him to turn around with a little squeeze of his shoulder but he shrugged it off. 

“My mum hated me, Gemma hated me, Andy hated me. Everyone hated me and I deserved it. I’ve skipped every Christmas since because I couldn’t face it and because I was a coward. I’m still a coward. I’ve sent letters and texts and tried to call her and I’ve never been able to see her face to face because I’m scared. I’ve never been able to push myself to that next step because I keep thinking it’s too late. That she’ll never forgive me.” 

You could see how devastated he was about it and how angry he was at himself. And you understood it. He had spent nearly five years away from his family, beating himself up because of a huge mistake he made. And it was huge. You weren’t going to dispel that. You weren’t even sure that if you were in Gemma’s place, you’d ever get over something like that. 

But Harry has also changed a lot. You imagined Harry Jr’s death changed him for the worse. Since the moment you met him, he always was a selfish, narcissistic person. It was never a secret that he lived his life for himself and cared about money and his job over anything else and maybe Harry Jr’s death had something to do with that. But since knowing him he’s made so many improvements to himself. He’s completely turned around to try and be an honest and good person.

The things he did for you and put himself through to protect you wouldn’t be done by just anyone. He had so much love in him and had proved that time and time again. He was attentive and caring and so generous. You were starting to think that he always was that person but was torturing himself for so long because of the mistakes he had made that it was easier to keep people at an arm's length.

After knowing him deeper though, you knew that his family meant a lot to him. He spoke to his mum at least twice a week and looked after her financially too. She was a young mum and had already been retired for nearly 10 years because of the way Harry invested his money and the success he had in all his different ventures. Being able to retire a parent when you’re barely 30 and live your own life in such an extravagant way is a massive achievement. 

Which is why you were just so shocked he hadn’t visited Gemma in person yet to try and mend things. How did it take so long for him to finally make the decision to go back to the UK and mend things with her, at least you assumed that’s why he wanted to go to her birthday. You assumed the phone call with his mum had something to do with it too. 

You weren’t really sure what to make of it or what to say. You loved him and were always going to love him and it hurt to know that he had been in a mental place so low and so far gone that he hurt his only sibling this badly. He was suffering with his own grief and unable to cope that badly that his sister, the mother of his nephew had to mourn the loss of her son and her brother all at the same time.

It was awful all around. 

“Harry. Turn around, please.” You coaxed gently, giving his shoulder another little squeeze. He inhaled a shaky breath and slowly turned around, showing you his reddened eyes and puffy nose. “Come here.” You guided, grabbing his hand to pull him towards the couch so you two could sit and talk about it properly. He remained silent while you took his hands in yours, trying to find the right words to support him. 

“What you did was wrong…” His expression seemed to fall even further, complete despair in his eyes. “But you don’t need me to tell you that.” You softened your expression, reaching up to cup his face in both hands. “You’ve been torturing yourself because of this for years and I get it. I can’t put myself in your shoes or even Gemma’s shoes because I don’t have siblings and I don’t have nieces or nephews but I understand loss and I understand family. Everyone grieves differently but the one constant in our lives is our family. I don’t think it’s too late to make up for it.”

“You don’t mean that.” He whispered, scanning your face. “Why don’t you hate me? I fucked up.” 

“You did and I won’t excuse what you did. But you were in a horrible part of your life and yeah, the right thing to do was go to the funeral, but you made your choice and you’ve lived with the consequences already. You have changed and grown so much since we started dating, Harry, and I can see the difference it’s making in your life. All you can do now is try and show Gemma you’ve changed. That you’re better.” 

Harry said nothing for a moment and swallowed the lump in his throat, “I’ve tried to go home to her for years and every time I get close, I see how happy they are without me and it stops me. There was one Summer I even made it to the front gate and saw Gemma and Lola through the window. They looked so happy. Lola was so big and Gemma looked at peace. I didn’t want to destroy that.”

“Don’t you think she’d be happier knowing she had her brother back?” You asked softly, dropping your hands from his face to grab his hands instead.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, “My mum has been trying to get me to go back for a long time, always trying to convince me that everyone missed me. That Gemma missed me. I never went because I was thinking about myself instead of her. It was easier for me to stay away than confront what I did. But I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to be that person.” 

He sounded so determined and he was. He always appreciated your honesty and you kept him accountable time and time again but you did it in a way that still supported him. You listened to him fully and offered support and advice. You didn’t act like he was a monster. He hoped that you felt like that on the inside too.

“Is that what the phone call was about? Her birthday?” 

Harry nodded. “My mum has been hounding me about it for months. When the call happened I wasn’t ready to tell you because I was scared I’d lose you. Really fucking scared. I know it upset you, baby, and I’m so sorry.” He squeezed your hands, bringing them up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I didn’t mean to lie. I didn’t want to. I hope I haven’t lost you because I was ashamed.”

“You haven’t.” You smiled, squeezing his hands. “You haven't. I was upset at the time, but I didn’t want to press you because you’re allowed to have things that are just yours... I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.” You reached up to cup his cheek, watching the way he nuzzled into your touch, eyes fluttering closed at the comfort he felt. “I don’t think you’re that person anymore, Harry. I think Gemma would appreciate the work you’ve put into yourself to become a better person.”

“You think so?” He whispered, scanning your face with his eyes. 

You nodded. “I think it’ll take time. I honestly don’t know how things will work out because I don’t know her, but I know you and I know you’ll do everything you can to fix things with her. You’re her brother, Harry.”

“I love you,” Harry murmured, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck to draw you in for a kiss. This wasn’t the end of this conversation by any means. You had questions and you hoped that he’d be a lot more open about his family now. This was such an intense, deep-rooted issue. If he wanted to talk about it more, which you hoped he did, it wouldn’t happen in one night. 

The kiss deepened ever so slightly, ending with a little run of his tongue against your bottom lip while he rested his forehead against yours. “Will you come with me?” 

“What? Where? To London?” You blinked, a little surprised at his sudden request. 

He nodded, tightening his hand in your hair just a little. It wasn’t to hurt you, just to feel you. “I don’t know if I can do it by myself. I want you there.”

“Harry-” you tried to interrupt, but it was like he felt your hesitation before you even said anything. 

“I can show you my hometown, my house. You can meet my mum, maybe even Gemma. I just… I don’t want to leave you. I want you to come with me.”  

This felt like something he needed to do by himself. It happened before he even knew you and was such an important step in his life. Family is family and it would almost feel like an intrusion to be there when he’d be sorting through so much history. 

“Harry…” you sighed, leaning back. “I want nothing more than to support you but I have school. I don’t know if I can take time off and I’ve still got this trip planned at the end of the year with my friends. Money wise too… it’s a lot and it’s so soon.”

“You wouldn’t have to pay for a thing, y/n. I’d never let you do that.” His voice turned lower just a touch like he was almost reprimanding you for even suggesting he’d let you pay for a single thing. “And I think it might even align with your semester break, at least some of it anyway. Even if you flew in later and met me there? We could travel. I could take you to my house in Italy.” He was trying so hard to convince you but by the look on your face, it wasn’t working. 

“It’s not just that, Harry.” You chuckled at his attempts to convince you, which actually were quite appealing. “I love you and the idea of Italy and seeing where you grew up is so… amazing but I think this is something you need to do by yourself. There is so much history there and so much you need to work through. I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to go.” 

“I want you to come.” He coaxed, pecking you quickly. God when he had that almost pouty look on his face and murmured so sweetly… you’d agree to anything. “You can do your own thing. You’ve always wanted to go to London. There’s so much to do and you can do whatever you want. As long as I get to see you at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. Have you in my bed every night.” Now the thought of that was extremely appealing. “Just think about it. Please.” 

“I’ll think about it.” You compromised, smiling softly. 

“Thank you.” He kissed you again before wrapping his arms around you to draw you into his chest. Both of you knew you had to head home, but it wasn’t the right time for you to leave. You couldn’t. 

You spent the next hour or so just wrapped in his arms, then him wrapped in yours. He opened up a little more about Gemma and his extended family and he already seemed so much more open to speak about them. You could tell this was something that weighed heavy on him for a long time. 

Archie made his way from outside at some point too, bringing in a trail of dust and leaves that broke the tension in the room and let you and Harry distract yourselves by bathing him. He had been running a muck outside the entire time, obsessively playing with a new toy Harry bought him. He was so engrossed in it, that he didn’t even know you came over. 

That was probably a good idea since you and Harry spent a lot of your time together naked. You swear Archie had PTSD from Harry’s instruction to go to his bed.

It was late by the time you peeled yourself from Harry, not wanting to leave but knowing you had to. He didn’t want you to leave either but you promised to come over before you left in the morning. He was tempted to come home with you and you had a feeling he might drive back in his own car so he could spend the night with you, or even the day before driving back in the night. 

It was times like these where you hated that your parents didn’t know about him. After learning everything, maybe it was time. 

“Hey, baby.” Your mum greeted, hugging you the moment you walked into your kitchen. 

“Hi.” You smiled, hugging her back. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, pumpkin.” He hugged you next, kissing your forehead before returning to the pot he was stirring on the stove. 

“Sorry I took forever, I was catching up with Harry then Archie ended up dragging dirt through the house so I stayed to help him clean up.” You explained, hoping she bought the excuse. There was this expression on her face that just told you she didn’t believe you, but she didn’t say anything about it so you decided to leave it and not say too much. Otherwise, she’d really know something was up if you started waffling. 

“It’s nice you two have stayed so close.” There was something about the way she focused on the word ‘close’, but she had a glass of wine in hand and always liked to read into things when she got a bit tipsy. You hoped you were just being a little paranoid. “You think he’ll give you your job back over your semester break?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I might just plan my shifts at the cafe so I can be here for a couple of days then at mine for a couple of days. I don’t want to cut my shifts at the cafe completely.”

“Mh.” She agreed, “think about it. You know I like having you around.”

“I know. I like being here too.” You smiled, “I’m going to shower and get changed quickly. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright. Don’t be too long.” She called after you. 

“I won’t!”

The night continued as it always did. Dinner, a glass of wine, an update on your week of uni and your night out with your friends (sans Harry, of course). Then Dad went to his office to do some quotes and your mum and you wound up on the couch watching The Real Housewives. Another couple glasses of wine was involved, but it was a Saturday night and you had nowhere to be tomorrow except home. 

Perfect.

Until your mum paused the show while you got up to get a snack and when you returned, she had no plans of playing it again. She had this look on her face, like she was getting ready to announce something really big or ask you an invasive question. 

It was the latter.

“Are you okay?” You asked, landing on the couch with a heavy seat. The wine slowly infused in your body, making you feel like a heavy lump of bones. You were getting to the point where one more sip of wine would knock you out and your pillow was calling your name.

“I need to ask you something.” She shifted on the couch, sitting cross legged while facing you. She still had her glass of wine in hand, eyeing it like she had a nervous tick.

“Okay…” you looked at her a little funny, taking a sip of wine. 

“Are you sleeping with Harry?” At her words, your eyes widened and the wine suddenly travelled down the wrong hole. You coughed repeatedly and Mum was quick to lean forward to tap your back until your coughing subsided. “Our neighbour, Harry.”

“Thanks for the clarification, Mum, but I only know one Harry.” You coughed, rubbing the sore spot over your chest. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Just answer the question. Is it true?”

Shit. What were you even meant to do? You didn’t want to lie about it because the truth would always come out, but you also weren’t ready to talk about it. You had this whole speech planned and all these things you wanted to say when you brought it up to her and now that she was the one asking you about it, there was nothing in your head.  

You felt bombarded by it. But maybe it was better to tell her first before your dad found out. At least this way you could explain everything and diffuse any worries so when he found out, your mum would be on your side. And you knew she would be. Or hopeful at best. Maybe not at first, but all she wanted was your happiness and if Harry made you happy, she’d support you with it.  

Your parents had always told you that they didn’t care what you did with your life as long as you were happy, healthy and safe. They’d support you if it truly was what you wanted. When they said that they were talking about work, not dating your neighbour, but it still applied. 

It would be a shock to them and you knew that, but no one was getting hurt and you were happier than you had ever been. You knew they’d understand. Eventually anyway. 

“Um…” you trailed off, looking away briefly. “Yes? But we’re not sleeping together, we’re… we’re dating.” Even though you could tell she wasn’t surprised, the look of pure disappointment on her face expressed exactly how she felt. She didn’t want you to say yes. “I was going to tell you.” You jumped in again before she replied, wanting to get as much out as possible before she gave her opinion. “I swear. I wanted to tell you and Dad both at the same time so you two wouldn’t get all weird with each other if one of you knew first.”

“Oh god, y/n!” Mum pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a heavy sip of wine before continuing like it would somehow make the news easier to bear. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. I prayed that you weren’t and yet here we are.”

“You knew? How?”

“I didn’t know, but I kind of worked it out. You've been a little giddier than usual. Always looking at your phone and you’re always going over there when you come to visit. He's been different too. Less broody and secretive and he's been getting a dogsitter for Archie for a lot more overnights than usual. Mother’s know these things, y/n. So… explain. How did it start?”

Was it seriously that obvious? When she put it like that, it kind of was obvious that you were seeing someone. She wasn't particularly upset by it, but her tone wasn't overly jovial either. She was calm. Calm was good.

Though it could've been the wine making her more relaxed.

“I guess we kind of got closer as I dogsat Archie. We’d always talk for ages and we had that weekly dinner, which you knew about. Then one day… I don’t know. Things changed.” You averted eye contact, feeling a blush graze your cheeks at the memory of the first time you two slept together. 

“You were sleeping together?” You nodded silently, knowing that she’d be able to tell if you were lying. “When?”

“What?”

“When was the first time?”

“Mum.” You protested, “you don’t need to know that.”

“I do, actually because now that I know it happened, I need to know when it started.”

“Yes but-”

“So when was the first time, y/n?”

You clearly weren't getting out of this one.

“...A few weeks before his birthday, I guess.”

“A few weeks before his birthday.” She repeated to herself, “so you were dogsitting for him and having dinner with him for weeks and what? You two were just sleeping together each time just like that? All those times you came home ‘late’, you were sleeping with him? Right next door? Have you slept with him here?”

“Mum, stop!” You whined, hating how she seemed to be spiralling about the fact you had sex. 

Her questions were practically spitfire and if you didn't stop her now, she'd continue and her questions would get way more invasive. She always was like that when she drank. Nosy and more brazen than usual. Dad always said it was because she was pretty that she got away with the way she ran her mouth when she drank.

Mum was harmless, but God if there was even a smidge of a secret hanging around she'd find out and talk about it to anyone and everyone.

She knew you weren’t a virgin and while you didn’t share every detail of your sex life, she knew you had slept with a couple of guys. You were always open and honest with her to an extent because you valued her advice, especially when your heart got involved and you ended up getting hurt. But right now you didn’t want to hear her fears or her spiralling bout the fact you had sex next door when you knew she and Dad had sex only two rooms away from you. If it were up to her, she’d know every detail about every aspect of your life.

You understood it to an extent and you practically did share everything with her. But seriously. Boundaries. 

“I love you but it’s none of your business. I don’t ask when you and dad have sex because that’s disgusting so don’t ask me!” 

“Fine. Fine. You’re right.” She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes, “Just tell me you’re still on birth control and we can move on.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Good because I swear to God, y/n, if you come home pregnant...”

“Mum!”

“I had to say it, okay? It’s my job as a mother. Now continue.”

“It wasn’t serious at first and neither-” you paused to give her a warning glance when it looked like she was going to make another comment about your sex life. She only rolled her eyes and sipped her wine again, attentively listening to you talk, “neither of us wanted a relationship and I always said to you too that it didn’t interest me but he somehow managed to change my mind about it all. He didn't mean to and he was further away from commitment than I was... but the longer it went on, the more we realised that it was more than just casual." You let out a sigh, "I didn’t want to like him mum, I didn’t. There were problems and he had problems and I knew it was stupid to fall for someone who lived his whole life single and selfish but things changed and kept changing. He changed.”

The whole time you spoke, she actively listened. She didn’t try to interrupt or even make any weird noises of indignation that your dad definitely would. She just listened and processed it. You appreciated that. 

“It wasn’t an easy beginning to our relationship because we had a lot of differences and he… he hurt me really bad. I almost told you back then too because he broke my heart. Really bad.” Your voice broke slightly, feeling that same break in your heart that you did at the very beginning.

“Y/n.” She soothed, placing her hand on yours over your knee. “You could’ve told me back then, y’know. I would’ve been there for you. I'm a little hurt you didn't trust me enough to come talk to me about this.”

“It's not about trust, mum. You know I trust you. Everything was just so complicated and I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t really think we’d get back together, anyway, so I didn’t want to start something and have you storm to his house to tell him off for no reason when I thought it was over.”

“I would’ve done that. I can still do that for you, if you want?” She smiled, sipping her wine again.

“No, don't," You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “We worked things out and… well we never looked back. Before we ended our casual relationship so badly, Harry was really complicated and secretive and God sometimes I wanted to strangle him. But when we got back together… he changed everything for me, mum. He worked on himself and is still working on himself and honestly, I’m probably the happiest I’ve ever been. He treats me so so well and he spoils me and loves me everyday and-”

“He loves you?” She interrupted, “as in you loves you.”

You nodded.

“And you love him back?”

You took an extra moment to respond to her, not really sure where she was going with her comments. “I do. I know I do.”

“y/n…” She sighed. You could feel the change in the air. How her active listening turned to disappointment and a hope that your relationship would end before it properly started. “I honestly thought that you were just dating and having fun and he was buying you nice things, but love? I have no doubt you feel that way towards him but isn’t it too soon?”

“I just know, mum. I had no control over it and I never meant for it to happen but it did and… and I’m happy. I’m so happy with him and even with the distance and everything else, we’re making it work.”

“But how? He’s not too much younger than your dad and I and he’s got no kids, has never been married? Everyone knows he’s had his fun and sleeps with whoever he wants, what’s to say he doesn’t still want that? And then there’s the opposite. What if he’s finally done with being a bachelor and wants to settle and have kids before he gets too old? Is that what you want? Because I know it’s not.” She gave you this look and crossed her arms over her chest, like she already knew what your answer would be.

She seemed to know all your answers tonight.

“Of course I don’t want that. Not now anyway. But he doesn’t want that and he doesn’t want to sleep around either.” 

“So you two haven’t spoken about settling down?” She fired back, already knowing that you had. Your mum was the best reader of people and relationships, probably because she stuck her nose in everyone's business and knew all the ways they failed.

“I mean we have but not for now. Like… just so we both know that this isn’t a short term kind of thing.”

“Y/n, baby. You are so young. So young and gorgeous and smart.” She soothed, leaning forward to cup your face and run her hands over your hair. “You have your whole life in front of you and the whole world at your fingertips. Why are you settling down with someone who’s already experienced everything? Would you not rather explore the world with someone who hasn’t seen it over and over again?”

“Mum, I can still do everything I want to do when I’m with him." You exasperated, brushing her hands off you. "I can travel and work overseas if I want and I still see my friends and do everything normal. Being in a relationship doesn’t stop that and if anything, Harry’s position makes it easier. He’s stable financially and is happy to slow down and do what I want. It’s not that he doesn’t get a say, but he’s got the freedom and wants to experience everything with me. It may not seem like it, but he’s got a lot of firsts too, mum. Trust me, I’ve thought about it all.”

“Look, I don’t know him very well.” She sighed, settling back against the couch. “He’s been living next door for nearly five years and I couldn’t even tell you what footy team he supports, but he’s always been polite and charming. All I can do is go off that and what you tell me and if you’re telling me you’re happy then… I guess I’m happy too. I just don’t want you to get hurt, y/n. By anyone.”

“I know. I don’t want that either but I promise you’ll love him like I do. You’ll see why he means so much to me. You and dad.” You smiled, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I hope so.” She smiled back, squeezing your hand in return. “So tell me more. Tell me everything.”

The next few hours were spent practically debriefing your entire relationship. You kept the bigger problems private as she simply wouldn’t understand the Ethan situation, but you told her everything else you two had been through. If it had something to do with Ethan, you twisted the story a little but for the most part, it was an amazing chat.

You loved your mum more than anything and to actually sit there and talk about Harry so freely and honestly and have her engage properly was the best feeling ever. She freely gave advice (even when you didn’t want it) but you were happy with that. You didn’t have a lot of boy problems so actually having someone to talk about with her was everything to you. It made you hopeful for the future of your relationship with Harry and took so much weight off your shoulders.

It was liberating.

“Oh god…” mum wheezed, her laughter coming to a stop as she finished off her final glass of wine for the evening. “I’m too drunk right now but in the morning we’ll brainstorm how to get back at chatty Cathy across the road. She can never ever keep her mouth shut. That woman.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Your brows furrowed and that happy, calm energy you had somehow dissipated into thin air. 

“Tracey? The only reason I asked you if you were seeing Harry was because Tracey’s been hinting at it for weeks. I thought I told you.”

“No… you didn’t.”

Your mind was suddenly twisting and turning. After everything you had been through with her and Ethan and even just the shit between you and Harry, she still wouldn’t leave you alone. You had done nothing to her and left her alone since you moved out for school and yet she still had to run her mouth off about you? You just didn’t get it. 

Harry had recordings over her admitting to lying to you and you had photos of her cheating and she knew that and still decided to try and get some attention her way? Nope. Not on your fucking watch. 

You were over it. You were over being the target of people who you had nothing to do with. Who only wanted to use you to get money or for some other stupid fucking reason that meant nothing in real life. You were done. So if she was going to run her big fat mouth about you, then you were going to do it right back and you were going to hit her where it hurt the most. Her family.

//

It was only a couple of days later when the truth came out. You weren’t trying to hide it from Harry but it also wasn’t exactly a conversation you wanted to have over the phone. He got called into work for some client emergency on Sunday which ruined his plan to come spend the day and/or night with you. Then neither of you could see the other until Tuesday as he planned to work from home on Wednesday. 

You were glad that his quiet days seemed to align with yours because it meant you could spend more time together. Even if you were both busy working or doing uni work, just being in his presence was enough to make you happy. And now that your mum knew about you two… it was only a matter of time before you could start spending nights at his house too.

“Baby?” You heard Harry’s voice echo through your apartment, easily being heard in the shower due to your thin walls. 

“In here.” You yelled back, scrubbing your nails through your scalp to rinse out the remaining conditioner. Harry accidentally went home with your keypass after going on his morning run the last time he stayed over. He kept it in his shorts pocket so he wouldn’t wake you and it wound up in his bags somehow, hence his ability to enter your place without you needing to go downstairs and get him. He wasn’t really meant to have them, but it was only for a couple of days and Maeve had your spares so you could still get in and out easily.

“Can I come in?” He asked a moment later, knocking on the bathroom door. 

“Yeah.”

Wordlessly, he opened the door and let himself in, scanning your naked body from head to toe. You were facing the wall with your eyes closed, head tilted back so the water was streaming down your hair. Gorgeous. He had been craving you all day. It was just one of those days where it was shit after shit and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed with you and just be wrapped in your arms. 

“Can I join you?” Harry asked softly, itching to jump in the hot water with you. He was already loosening his tie. Before entering your bathroom he took off his jacket and shoes so he was ready to let the rest of his clothes fall to the ground without care. You always had showers extremely hot and now that the weather was cooling down, Harry quite liked the sauna it left behind in the bathroom. He didn’t particularly enjoy it when it was 30° outside but he never let that stop him from getting in a shower with you.

“Of course, you can.” You smiled, still facing away from him. You always felt a little vulnerable being in a shower with him. Even though he had seen your body plenty of times, there was still something so sacred and personal about getting clean. You were glad you had already washed yourself before he came in because the last thing you needed him to see was you plucking out one of your long hairs from your underarms or ass. 

“I wasn’t sure what time you’d be here.” You hummed, feeling the slide of his cold bare hands along your hips as he joined you in the shower.

“Yeah, I had to work late. ‘M sorry to keep you waiting.” He murmured, kissing your shoulder while wrapping his arms fully around you. You sighed into the touch, tilting your head back to welcome the feeling of his body around yours. He snuggled against you, proper bear-hugging you while digging his forehead into the crook of your neck. 

“It’s okay. Maeve dragged me to a late Pilates class so I had to wash my hair. I swear I sweat like two litres every time.” You laughed softly, “I would’ve waited for you. I like being at the door to greet you.”

“I like having you greet me too.” He kissed your neck softly, “did you have fun at Pilates? I haven’t been for a while.”

“I liked it. It was a beginner class so no handstands or anything like you do but I’m sore already. ” You teased, turning around slowly to face him. He kept your body close, immediately kissing you once your faces were in line. “We should go together sometime. I’ve been trying to get Jay to go but he keeps blowing me off.” You offered, immediately sensing that something was off with him. 

“I’d like that.” He murmured, pressing his lips against yours again. Harry was craving your comfort. He didn’t want to start anything or get too riled up, he just loved the warmth that spread through his chest when his mouth melted into yours. It could be a peck, a pash, a full snogging session. It didn’t matter. 

You combed your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “How was your day?”

“Shit. Just one of those days, y’know.” Harry replied, pressing your foreheads together before kissing you again. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. Do you want to talk about it?” You slowly eased your bodies around so he was facing the water instead of you. He shook his head and let his eyes flutter closed as the hot water streamed over his head. You pushed his hair back from his face, kissing his chest. “Okay.” When Harry wanted to talk he’d willingly do so, so you weren’t going to push him. Sometimes work was just shit and you got that. He’d probably talk about it later once he decompressed and relaxed. “You want me to wash your hair?”  

A smile grew on his face at your offer and he tipped his head down to look at you. Harry loved having his hair played with and his scalp scratched. He was like a cat. Sometimes he’d just lay there with his head on your lap for hours while you played with his hair. You first found it out during sex because he liked the pain, especially when his head was between your thighs so it only made sense he’d like it out of the bedroom too. 

“You sure?”

You nodded and reached up on your tippy toes to kiss him. “Turn around.” 

He pecked your mouth gently as a thank you then turned around to face the water. Wordlessly, you grabbed your shampoo and squeezed some onto your hands, rubbing them together to emulsify before you brought them to his scalp. 

Harry moaned as you massaged his scalp, using your nails to scratch as you went. “That feels good.” 

“Good.” You hummed, happy to look at the expanse of his back. His back muscles were incredible. 

It sometimes amazed you how fit he was, but with his daily runs and intense personal training sessions he somehow managed to squeeze into his routine, it really was no wonder that he looked the way he did. He worked his ass off to be as fit as he was and to stay that way and it all paid off because his physique was better than any boy your age.

You joined him in a personal training session once and you had no doubt any of the boys you had been with in the past would fail halfway through. Would you say you participated in said session? No. You were lugged over his shoulders so he could use your weight to do squats though. 

“Are we okay?” Harry asked suddenly, voice soft. 

“Of course we are.” You replied instantly. “Why wouldn’t we be?” You continued rubbing circles on his scalp, massaging him to make it more pleasurable and relaxing. Your arms were already starting to ache a little, but it was worth it. 

“I’m just making sure.” 

“I love you, Harry. Nothing will change that.” You murmured, running your hands down from his scalp to massage his neck and over his shoulder. He echoed the sentiment, voice just audible over the water as your lips created the trail for your hands to follow; over his neck and the expanse of his shoulders, down to the middle of his back and as low as you could go without bending. 

The tension was slowly leaving his body. Tense muscles melting and relaxing, his tense shoulders slumping until he was heavy on his feet. He was completely pliant to your touch and you couldn’t wait to wrap your arms around him and cuddle in bed. Part of you even wanted to skip dinner and head straight to bed.

“Rinse it, H.” You whispered, kissing a little freckle on his back before pulling back to give him space to turn around. He started scrubbing the shampoo out while you prepared his conditioner, rubbing it through your hands so it covered all your fingers. 

“Y’know something interesting did happen today. It was quite a spectacle in the neighbourhood.” Harry mused, already feeling better just by your touch and loving words. He stayed facing towards you to catch your reaction, which was as easy to read as ever. 

“What?” You froze for a split second while reaching to thread the conditioner through his hair, already knowing exactly what he was talking about. 

“Tracey was kicked out. Unfortunately I was already on my way to work but she was crying so loud everyone on the street was watching. Apparently, he found out she was cheating on him. You know anything about that?” He had this look of knowing on his face and it was like he knew that you had something to do with it. 

Shit. 

“About that…” you smiled sheepishly, putting your hands down to let the conditioner sit in his hair. 

“I knew it!” He accused, laughing while squeezing your hips. “What did you do?”

“Okay, but you can’t be mad.” You laughed, poking his chest. “I was going to tell you tonight, okay?” 

“Mad? Why would I be mad?” His brows knitted together, “I’m sure whatever you did had good reasoning behind it.”

“Well, yeah she’s a cunt but it’s not that.” Harry laughed loudly at your comment and you could feel his mood being lifted like steam dissipating in the air. You had such a fucking mouth on you sometimes. He loved it. “When I got home after we had that talk, everything was normal until my mum and I were watching TV after dinner. She said she had to talk about something and then just flat-out asked me if you and I were sleeping together! Like it was nothing.” 

“Shit.” His eyes widened, “And what did you tell her?”

“I told her the… truth.” You were a little nervous to tell him. A lot nervous actually. You knew he was ready to tell your parents whenever you were, but it felt wrong to have that conversation without him. But you couldn’t exactly call him or go over to his house after he just told you about his nephew. That would’ve been all sorts of fucked. Your mum knowing about you two dating meant nothing compared to what he was going through. 

“You did?”

“Yes. I’m really sorry.” You rushed out. “I wanted you to know when I was going to do it but I couldn’t lie to her when she was straight out asking me the question.”

“And you thought I’d be mad?” He scoffed, laughing softly while tucking your hair behind your ear. “Baby, the only way I’d be mad is if you were pressured into doing something you weren’t ready for. Were you okay having that conversation with her? I know… I know you weren’t ready to tell your parents yet.”

“Harry she asked me because Tracey was talking shit. After everything, everything we went through and all the fucked up shit she did and she still can’t leave me alone. I’ve done nothing to her.”

That manipulative cunt. 

Harry didn’t like to use that word very often. Other than the obvious use when he was trying to degrade you. But there was simply no other word in the English language that summed up who Tracey was. Desperate? Yes. Annoying? Just the sound of her breathing had Harry gritting his teeth. But the only word that truly encompassed everything about her was cunt.

He had no idea that her being kicked out was because she was causing problems again. He assumed it had something to do with you because you were cheeky and sneaky at times, but he didn’t expect this. After everything that happened, he thought you guys were done with her. 

“What the fuck? Fucking hell, y/n. Why didn’t you tell me?” He was getting a little frustrated at you now and you could see it in his expression. You just grabbed his hair and tilted his hair back, forcing his hair back under the water to rinse the conditioner out. Even though he was annoyed you didn’t tell him, he was still pliant to your touch and it took very minimal effort to maneuver his head. 

“Because we just spoke about your family and my drama literally doesn’t matter compared to what you’re going through. I didn’t want to bother you and then I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

“Of course it matters.” He scoffed, “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit by yourself. I thought she was dealt with, but clearly not. How long have you known?”

“I found out when my mum asked me about us. I had no idea anything was happening before that.”

“So… what? Tracey’s been running her mouth?”

“Basically.” You sighed, still running your fingers through his hair to get rid of the last bits of conditioner. “She hasn’t said anything directly, but she’s been making comments and saying random things that makes people think that we’re sleeping together. At least that’s what my mum said.”

“I don’t get why she’s doing this.” He sighed, “You’ve moved out and we’ve left her alone after everything that happened. She’s got no reason to come after us again.”

“Like I said, she’s a cunt.” Your words came out matter-of-factly, eliciting a roll of Harry’s eyes. “She’s probably bored and thinks that it’s easy to use me to have her fun because I’m not there to defend myself.”

“Bullshit. I’m there to defend you. Why isn’t she scared of me?” Harry scoffed, eliciting a laugh in response.

“Harry she’s obsessed with you and even if you blackmailed her and stomped all over her old wrinkly heart, she still wants you.”

“I didn’t stomp over anything. And I’m taking your old wrinkly statement as an insult.”

“Yeah right. You love being the ripe age of 39. ‘I get sexier with age, y/n’.” You quoted, attempting to mimic his low raspy accent. He raised a brow and immediately went for your sensitive spots, squeezing your waist with light twinkling fingers in an attempt to tickle you. “Stop!” You squealed, hitting his hands away. “Stop it Harry!”

“Admit I get sexier as I age. Admit it.” He threw back, wrapping one arm around your waist while using the other to tickle you. 

“I hate you!” You tried to push his hand off, laughing and wiggling and squealing all at the same time. It didn’t help that you two were still very much naked. “Whatever. You’re sexier as you age.”

The tickling stopped instantly and Harry had this smug grin on his face, happy that he beat you. “Thank you.”

“You’re a child.” You rolled your eyes.

“Come on. Finish the story.” He laughed softly, looping his arms around your waist. 

“I don’t even know what I was up to before your ego got bruised.”

He chose to ignore that statement. “You were explaining how obsessed Tracey is with me.”

“Oh, right. She’s obsessed with you so obviously she won’t be scared and she’s not threatened by me. She really didn’t think that I’d retaliate in any way even if I told her I would and now look at her. I think I handled it pretty fucking perfectly.” You announced proudly. 

It felt a little evil to be so happy over someone elses pain. You had ruined Tracey’s life and yet you were satisfied. It felt justified. In the beginning you never wanted to use your threats against her. You just wanted to be left alone, even if that meant sitting on evidence that she was having an affair. Now though… you felt worse about keeping it a secret than using it to get back at her.

“I’d say so.” Harry laughed. “How did it all happen?”

“She goes to pilates on Sundays so I waited until she was gone and went over to speak with Oscar. All I did was tell the truth and show him one of the photos of her and Ethan. I felt really bad for him, actually. He believed me even before I showed him a photo but he still wanted to see it, probably for proof so he doesn’t have to pay her out.” 

“Well shit.” Harry laughed, quickly turning you both around so you got some of the hot water. “He clearly didn’t take it well.”

You shook your head. “No. I could tell he was trying not to cry. I feel like I should’ve told him earlier.” You looked away for a moment, “it feels wrong to use one persons tragedy to get back at someone else. Like this is probably the worst thing to ever happen to him and I used it to get back at her. He doesn’t deserve that. Neither do his kids.”

“I know. The truth had to come out some way, though. It always does. Don’t blame yourself too much for it just because you benefited from it in some way. ” He grabbed your chin gently, guiding you to look back at him. “How did your mum react when you told her about us, anyway?” 

You were glad he was switching back to your mum because you really didn’t want to dwell to much on Tracey of all people. Or the shittiness you felt. 

“She already knew before Tracey started talking about us. She had this look on her face like she was waiting for me to outright say it.” 

“Wow. Really?”

“Yeah… she said it was mother’s intuition or whatever. I’m surprised she waited this long to say something about it, to be honest. She usually can’t keep her mouth shut and she already had a glass of wine when we spoke about it.”

Harry smiled at your comment, smoothing his hands over your back. “Was she upset about it? What did she say?”

“We spoke about it for a long time. She wasn’t upset but not thrilled either. I told her how happy I am and a little bit about our relationship so far and she seemed happy that it’s going well, but she’s still worried. I think she’s worried about the age gap and… well, your reputation. She doesn’t want me to get hurt.” 

You didn’t really want to go through the entire conversation with him. Nothing bad happened but it also felt like something that just you and your mum needed to know about. She gave you a lot of advice that made you feel lucky to have someone like her in your life. She was concerned but she actually listened to you, even when the conversation went a little wild, she listened to you and shared her own opinion as well. It went as well as you could’ve hoped. 

“My reputation as in…”

“Your one night stands. Obviously, I assured her that she didn’t have to worry about it. She thinks you’re charming but I think that also scares her. You’re the first real relationship I’ve had and it’s not exactly conventional and… I don’t know.” You sighed, looking away for a moment, “She said that she hoped my first love would be someone my age, that I’d date more before feeling so strongly about someone.”

Harry didn’t like the sound of that. So far, your mum’s concerns were valid ones and ones he expected. He never thought it would be easy or something your parents would understand right away and he prepared himself for that. They weren’t much older than him so navigating his relationship with them and you would take time. 

But he didn’t like the way those words came out of your mouth. That your mum hoped your first love was someone else and that you had more experience with other people before settling down. You two weren’t exactly planning for a baby or anything, it had barely been four months, and neither of you put any expectations on your relationship. You were young and he never imagined himself as the marrying type so you both just wanted to date and love each other and see how things evolved.

But you were still in it for the long haul with each other. This wasn’t a short term arrangement or something casual. You two loved each other. 

For Harry, he had already experienced heartbreak in all forms and he had grown from that. The Harry that survived his very first love was a completely different person to now. It wasn’t the only thing that shaped him to be the man he was today, but it contributed a lot to his life. He was at a point in his life now where meeting you and falling in love with you had completely changed how he thought his life would go.

He wanted to settle down with you. He couldn’t picture a future without you in it and you made it very clear that you loved him more than anything and you wanted to have that future with him. 

But you didn’t have what Harry had. You didn’t have years of making mistakes and meeting people and exploring yourself. Of figuring out who you are and what you want in life. You can do that with a partner and Harry knew he could show you the world and provide experiences you might not have if you were by yourself, but if you took the romance and his undying love for you out of the equation, would he encourage you to give your all to him? 

If it were anyone else, he’d tell them to keep their options open and grab any opportunities given to them. Was he holding you back from that?

“Do you wish you did? Have more relationships before me?” He solemnly asked, brows knitted together while he waited your reaction. 

That was a hard question to answer. But you had no regrets in dating Harry and that’s all that mattered. “In some ways, yes. I wish I had more experience in how to navigate even being in a relationship. But mostly no. There’s no one else I’d want to share my firsts with. In a lot of ways, you’re my first everything and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.” You cupped his face, running your thumbs under his cheeks. “Loving you is the happiest I’ve ever been and hopefully now, the people we love will be part of that too.”

Harry’s gaze softened and time seemed to still around you two. Having this conversation in such a vulnerable place like a shower only added to the intimacy of it all. You had a way of knocking the air out of his lungs. It happened with a look or a sigh, your gorgeous smile. And it definitely happened when you said things like this. 

“I want to give you the world, y/n. I want to give you everything you want. You tell me and it’s yours.” He murmured, gazing deep in your eyes.

“I just want you.” You whispered, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, really.”

His eyes flickered between yours as he tipped his head forward to rest his forehead against yours. His wet hair dripped down your cheek, running down your jaw and neck, all the way until it joined the water at your feet. “I just want you too. Always.” 

You smiled and pulled his mouth down towards you, pressing your body against his to get impossibly closer to him. He wrapped his arms fully around you, squeezing you against him so every inch of your pretty soft skin melted into his. Your mouths blended into one, lips brushing together in a slow languid kiss. 

His tongue slid across your bottom lip and you freely gave him access to your mouth so he could slip in and run his tongue against yours. God, everything about it was so sexy. The steam clouding over you both, how good your wet bodies felt pressed together… the way his cock started to harden against your thigh, unable to spring up in that way you loved due to how close you two were. 

“I think…” You gasped, breaking free to run your mouth over his jaw. “You should finish your shower…” You pressed kisses in a path towards his ear, kissing his lobe once you got there before playfully tugging at it between your teeth. Harry whimpered in your ear, reaching down to squeeze your ass in both hands. “...and join me in bed.”

With that, you kissed his neck then unwrapped yourself from his arms, smirking as you slid past him to grab your towel. His hand snapped out suddenly, clasping around your wrist. “Don’t go.”

Harry looked like a starved man. His chest was heaving, cock heavy and hard between his legs and his lips all red and puffy from your kisses. You would’ve fucked him right there if shower sex didn’t scare the hell out of you. 

“I’ll get you a towel.” You blew him a little kiss, ignoring the crazed look in his eyes and walking away. Oh did you love a tease. 

It wasn’t long before Harry had you pinned to your bed, grinding his hips in slow deliberate strokes. Your entire love making was just that, making love. It was slow and deep, full of so many kisses you could barely breathe. His body was pressed heavy on top of you and he made sure you felt every inch of him that you could. Every inch of his cock, every inch of his heavy muscle and soft sweaty skin.

The window above your bed was still open, a clear view of the moon above your heads. It was a view you two decided was worth putting your pillows down by your feet when you were finished so you could lay the opposite direction and look outside. You had a nice view of the water, though it was particularly dark outside and the moon was so bright it took your entire process. 

“I still can’t believe she knows.” Harry murmured, looking up from where his head rested on your chest.

“Who?” You whispered, missing the context of his comment, “My mum?” 

“Mmh.” he nodded, looking down to where your hands were joined and resting on your stomach. “It feels… good. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels like we’re moving onto the next step.”

“I feel the same. I feel better knowing she’s supportive. I had a feeling she would be, but it’s nice knowing I’ve got her on my side when we tell my dad.”

“Mmh.” He hummed in agreement, looking at the string of pearls around your neck. You put them back on after the shower and he found himself mesmerised by the way they twinkled under the moon light. “y’know I told my mum I was seeing someone. After our weekend away.”

“You did?” you frowned slightly.

“I didn’t say anything too personal or anything because we were keeping it quiet.” He assured, sensing the slight panic in your voice. “But I wanted her to know I have someone in my life who makes me happy.” 

You smiled, that slight beat of worry completely gone. “What did you tell her about me?”

“Not much. Just your name and that you’re studying. I didn’t want to show her any photos without asking you. She gets a bit excited and I knew if I sent her something she’d tell everyone about it.” He rolled his eyes, but you could tell by his tone that he loved that quality about her. Pausing, he looked from the moon to you. “I think you’d like her.”

“She sounds like my type of gal.” You grinned, “I’m excited to meet her.” 

“I think she’d cry if you said that. Happy tears of course.” 

You laughed softly, swiping your fingers through his hair. It had dried down after the shower and your activities and became all fluffy and dishevelled. You loved it in its natural state.

“Would you like to meet her?” Harry asked suddenly, his voice soft so only you could hear it. There was no one in your apartment but you yet the moment was so intimate and quiet, he didn’t want to ruin it. “We could facetime?” He looked up at you, expression hopeful for your response. 

“Harry I’d love that.” 

“Really?” His eyes widened ever so slightly, like he was surprised you’d agree. “You would?”

“Of course I would.” You assured, smiling while dancing your fingers across his jaw. “Set it up. Whenever suits her.” 

“Okay.” He grinned, reaching up to kiss you quickly before settling back down on your chest to look out at the moon, “I will.”

It felt so right and natural to take this next step. There were nerves about it, of course, and you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t scared that Anne wouldn’t like you or that you’d make a fool out of yourself. But you knew a decent amount about her and even if you didn’t, you knew you’d love her simply based off the fact you loved Harry. That was enough. 

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

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[knife-eared-jan]

Except that we are currently able to watch live irl that that's not true and never was. And DATV not getting that is actually getting to the core of what's wrong with it... and, if you wanna be melodramatic, with angloamerican perspectives on morals in general.

It really doesn't need that much for ordinary everyday people who might have been decent under slightly different circumstances to willingly run into the arms of tyranny and not even realise the immorality of it. Unfortunately, tragically, that's something intrinsic to the human experience, no matter how much we don't want to face it.

[When could it have felt more poignant than right at this point in time, to get a video game exploring the literal manifestation of tyranny and how it snares people in, how perfectly ordinary people can be lured by its appeal, can cave under the horrible pressure of it, didn't think it could get that bad, can break against the heartbreaking sheer overwhelming number of willing allies. (No tyrant lasts long once they really have their people against them - that's why they invest so much in censorship and controlling public opinion.)]

I'm not saying it is that critical for the game to specifically explore Elgar'nan's character more or whatever, even though that would have been cool. But everytime this banter comes across my dash I get apoplectic bc this line is so symptomatic of the ridiculous black and white, evil people are just evil because they're evil vs. all good people never do anything wrong and intrinsically know not to be wrong ever that the entire game falls prey to.

Spirits would never support Elgar'nan bc spirits in this game are good innocent victims and Elgar'nan is evil so he would never appeal to anyone who is on the "good side".

Like, I'm sorry I know I carry more religious trauma than average, but does this not reek of the same kind of bullshit we were fed for centuries to anyone else? Have we really gone so full circle? It's actually ironic that the game gets so much shit for being too woke, when this, to me, actually screams the very opposite.

[agentmarvel]

center image by @/ave661

PART I

hitman!ghost x fat!reader (afab, fem) w/ arranged marriage

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

rating: explicit

word count: 2,992

read on ao3

summary: in which contract killer simon "ghost" riley has to marry by a deadline, and of all the women to pick from, he chose you - without your knowledge, against your own stubborn will, and without much hesitation. your entire life, what you thought you knew, is flipped on its head while you try to navigate your new worldview and the complications therein.

cw: toxic parenting

♡

Simon stares at the photos before him, eyes flittering across the array wordlessly as he contemplates the question at hand. As migrant as his gaze has been, he keeps circling back to the same photo in his grid. Something about it draws him in, calling to him like a siren song. There’s no inclination that this path could lead him to his death, leave his bloated corpse floating just below the surface like seaweed, equally as limp and lifeless, nor can he be bothered to mind the possibility of rocky shores ahead, nearly certain to run his ship aground if he’s not exercising the utmost caution. His sails have never flown higher, and this? This feels like the right rigging for his needs.

It’s not that Simon wants a wife. Truthfully, he wants for nothing - he fucks when he feels like it, does as he pleases, and has hired hands to handle his household; anything he desires is placed at his feet with the snap of his fingers. He’s earned the life he has now, paid for it in blood, sweat, and tears - the likes of which belonging both to him and the piles of bodies he prefers to think of as stepping stones rather than people. But Simon Riley is nothing if not a man of his word, and the bill has come due.

Twenty years, he promised. Twenty years, and not a day more. It seems like an eternity to an eager, naïve teenager.

John Price, the master of hired guns, trained Simon. He put years of his life into molding Simon into the perfect weapon while instilling a moral compass impossible to sway. It did not come without cost, though. When he agreed to teach a driven, persistent, gifted fifteen year old Simon the ins and outs of the business, they made a deal. In exchange for John’s knowledge, Simon would be given time to build his empire before being required to take a wife.

“A mountain can’t rest upon a single pebble,” Price had told him. “Strength is in numbers, my boy. Earn loyalty where you can and buy it where you can’t.”

He’s been on his own for just over a decade, John becoming his equal, and he still takes those words to heart; hence the spread of pictures. Word travels fast, and when it gets out that the Simon Riley is seeking a bride, every magnate - respectable or otherwise - with a daughter to spare is throwing their hat into the ring. Conceited, perhaps, but having connections with Simon gives a man the kind of power they’d be foolish to reject.

His right-hand, Johnny, has already weeded out those with seedier dealings - those who cater to terrorism or are even suspected of having connections to human trafficking. While Simon is merciless in his kills, he does not kill without compunction. He’s swift and silent and doesn’t believe in leaving them to suffer. Death itself is punishment enough. There’s no purpose in his life for those who inflict undue dolor for their own gain, and he will not be associated with the uncouth.

The process limits his options, though not by nearly enough. Still, nigh on two dozen remained. He culled the field down to a mere nine by adding stricter constraints: age, employment history, education, and the like. He has no interest in the barely legal, the spoiled socialites, the vapid, shallow, or vain. As hollow as this state of matrimony may ring under the circumstances, he’d prefer not to be one of those men who feels disdain for his partner.

That’s the thought that keeps him circling back to one specific photo - a grayscale surveillance-style photo. The subject is undoubtedly stunning, appears to be precisely his preference in every physical aspect, but the devil is in the details. A delicate necklace that appears to be well-worn but treasured enough to stay polished, a purse that bears no distinguishable designer but shows no sign of detrition, neat, complimentary nails, but he can see a thin sliver of dried glue at the cuticle of the thumb; all signs of frugality without sacrificing sophistication...

Even the tiniest observations sing a haunting, operatic tune that keeps Simon hypnotized with little regard for what could lie within the treacherous depths below. Instinct drives interest, and if there’s anything Simon’s learned in his line of work, it’s to trust his instincts.

Not another beat passes before his fingertips finally close around the edge of the picture. He hands it to Johnny.

“Dig up everything you can on this one, yeah?”

♡

Fascination seems to be the weakest word to describe the rabbit hole Simon finds himself in when Johnny slides a file across his desk. He thumbs the manila tab that peeks out beneath the slew of staggered papers, taking caution to remember the name printed neatly across it - your name. It tastes sweet when he says it out loud. Pretty name for a pretty girl, he muses with a nearly imperceptible smirk.

The surname strikes him with a notch of recognition. Your father, if memory serves correct, is one of the largest arms dealers in the world. A pleasant man by reputation, though Simon has never met him directly. Sans the obvious, he keeps his nose clean. Nothing iniquitous or unscrupulous. There aren’t many American families that Simon has ties to, and forging a bond of this sort with a weapons tycoon would certainly be beneficial.

He digs into the contents of the folder, the pages feeling almost like silk between his heavily calloused fingers. A vague eagerness settles into his bones. Simon feigns disinterest outwardly, expression masked in stoicism, but he can’t lie to himself - he’s undoubtedly curious.

Each barely-cooled sheet turned only draws him further into a spiral. Your basic documents - driver’s license, birth certificate, passport - fill in a few blanks. The additional knowledge of your height, weight, and eye color offer insights not clear from the photo. He knows your middle name, birth date, that you’re an organ donor. You’re not living off your father’s money, as evidenced by the consistent bi-weekly paycheck deposits in your bank records. Educated, obviously, as your student loan payments are automatically drafted monthly.

On paper, it’s almost as if you were made for him, and what a thought that is. Optimism isn't in his nature; a heavy dose of skepticism hangs like a dark cloud, brewing a storm of adversarial rationale. But the pinch of hope that hovers like the sun in the back of his mind tells him to digest before coming back for seconds, and he concedes.

In the days that follow, Simon notices himself spending every spare moment revisiting your file. He placates Johnny’s lingering nosiness with the assurance that he’s merely trying to make a prudent choice under the circumstances, but that’s not quite honest. Truth be told, you’ve become a bit of an obsession of his over the last week. He often notes that his mind is wandering to the things he didn’t learn from the dossier - how you take your tea, what perfume you use, where you’ve always wanted to go but have never been. It’s a dangerous admission, one best kept to himself.

He toys with the notion of conducting the same research on a couple of the other candidates, just to be sure, but his decision is made final when Kyle sends over the links to your social media accounts. None of them are private - an issue Simon will have to address quite thoroughly at a later date - so he has no trouble combing through the last several years of your life.

Admittedly, it leaves an adequate mark. You’re witty and smart while remaining a bit sardonic. Thoughtful and warm, but not without your sharp edges. You’re ambitious and driven, a bit of a firecracker. Color him impressed; he quite likes that.

Demeanor aside, he also finds that you really, genuinely are an absolute beauty. The few photos from your file don’t hold a candle to the selfies you’ve posted. Something about seeing you when you feel most confident, when you’re exuding that effervescent glow of aplomb, it sparks a sensation in Simon’s stomach that he can’t quite describe.

That all but seals the deal.

He snaps up his phone and sends a text to Johnny before placing it face-down and turning back to his laptop.

>>> Set up the meeting

♡

As his jet touches down in Bogotá, Simon is reminded of what a nasty beast jetlag can be. It’s an animal he’s not had to contend with since his younger years, a fact for which he’s grateful. Call it a perk of his constant travel over the years and the more… unconventional hours he entertains on jobs. They’re approaching hour fourteen of their flight, though, so he supposes he can’t fault his men for falling asleep.

(He did, however, take a picture of them sleeping on each other before the turbulence awoke them; you know, for the sake of posterity and potential future blackmail.)

Simon’s mind had been far too occupied to allow him the opulence of rest. Upon his lap sits a dossier on his next target, a relatively high profile subversive at that, and all he can think about is the pretty little thing that’s been haunting his subconscious for the last two weeks.

By all accounts, it’s baffling. He understands that this sudden onset of infatuation is irrational, illogical, and quite frankly, irresponsible. It distracts him from things he ought not be distracted from, and that irritates him to no end.

The whirring of the engines slows to a dull hum, and Simon, with a grunt of discontentment, stuffs the file into his briefcase. He’ll accomplish nothing as long as he’s preoccupied. Hopefully, focus will be far less elusive on the flight back.

A loud thunk from the cockpit draws him from his spiral of ire, and Nikolai emerges. He greets Simon only with a curt nod before disengaging the door and deploying the stairs. Once they’ve kissed the asphalt, he ventures back a step, creating room for the men to disembark.

“Welcome to Colombia, gentlemen,” he announces. “We leave in six hours; gives me time to refuel the bird and grab some fuel myself. Enjoy your time, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, okay?” He tacks on a wink for good measure, which draws a bark of laughter from Kyle. Nik’s been with them long enough for them to know that’s a very short list, a fact Johnny is very quick to point out.

Simon claps a hand on Nikolai’s shoulder and hands him an envelope before stepping out - a hefty cash sum for his time and efforts. He may have also snuck in a sizable bonus as an anniversary present, but that will stay between the two of them.

“Get some rest, too, yeah? You’ve earned it.”

The air outside is crisp and pleasant. Underneath the standard airfield smells, Simon detects a pinch of coffee and cocoa. He wouldn’t be surprised; there’s a manufacturing plant not too terribly far from here, and if the wind blows just so, it may carry on the current. It’s refreshing, especially after being trapped for hours in an aluminum tube with three men who, today in particular, seem to be having a war over who can wear the strongest cologne.

Kyle and Johnny flank him on either side as they stroll off the tarmac. They’re both covertly armed to the teeth as a general precaution, but he trusts there will be no sinister intent behind a simple lunch. Surely, his appointment won’t mind. He likely won’t be attending alone either.

At the far end of the strip, a hired car is waiting. It’s relatively inconspicuous for the part of the city housing the restaurant, according to Simon’s research - a sleek, black SUV with windows tinted dark enough to hide any passengers, but passable enough to not draw attention.

Once in the city, it’s inherently obvious that there’s plenty of time to kill before the agreed upon hour. Place and time re-confirmed, the boys are turned loose to occupy themselves however they see fit, and Simon delves into the rows of local shops.

He finds things here and there; a pair of stunning leather boots, a box of cigars for Price, trinkets and treats he can share with his staff or gifts he can bring to gatherings so that he never greets his gracious hosts empty-handed. Even a little something for you, should all go according to plan. He smiles inwardly as he tucks the velvet box into the pocket of his slacks. It won’t replace the necklace you clearly adore, but he hopes you’ll wear it regardless.

After a quick trip back to their driver to leave their finds, the trio makes their way to the restaurant. Johnny and Kyle lag behind, keeping a respectable distance from Simon, whose eyes are immediately combing the patio for your father.

He spots him closer to the corner, sitting with his back to the wall. Two tables over, a pair of rather conspicuous men sit, cliché aviators perched in place while positioned to have a clear view of the upcoming interactions. Simon makes a mental note to wait until closer to the wedding to offer suggestions for higher quality detail. Assassinations are easier when you can gauge your obstacles so easily; trust him, he’d know.

In his periphery, he sees his companions select an empty table four over from the rent-a-cops. Kyle sits with his back to the table, glasses off. Johnny sits across from him, keeping his on to supply a reflective overview. Simon can’t help but crack the tiniest grin. He’s taught them well. They move as a singular unit when needed and rely on instinct over protocol. It’s the perfect display of how safe you’ll be with him. If he seems a little arrogant about it, that’s because he is.

Your father looks up from his phone and meets Simon’s eyes with an unspoken question. Simon tips his chin just once before the man stands, greeting him with a gracious smile.

“Ah, Mr. Riley… Pleasure to finally meet you.” He’s sincere in tone and offers his hand. Simon takes it without hesitation, giving it a firm shake while he shares the sentiment.

“You as well, sir.”

His smile widens a bit at that, and he gestures to the open chair, saying, “Please, sit.”

Simon takes the invitation, settling into the seat and the subsequent relatively meaningless small talk. They cycle through the basics before ordering their food and get a pinch more personal while they wait, discussing their respective hometowns and places their work has taken them. It isn’t until they’re digging into their plates that your father finally broaches the subject they’re both most anxious to discuss.

“As much as I’m enjoying getting to know you,” he begins, gaze not rising from his fork as it prods a pile of coconut rice. “I’m sure you didn’t fly halfway across the world just for that.”

“No, sir,” Simon responds. “I’m here to talk about your daughter.”

That draws the man’s attention, eyes finally meeting Simon’s with a subtle grin. It’s almost somewhat unsettling, like a cat finally catching that damn canary, though he’s unsure whether it’s him or you that owns the role of prey.

“But you already knew that, didn't you?”

“That I did,” he confirms, dabbing the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “Tell me, Simon, what exactly is it about my daughter that calls to the infamous Ghost?”

Simon pauses a moment, unsure of quite how to approach the response. He'd rather not tip his hand until he determines what sinisterity lies behind that predatory gaze. The mask your father is wearing at the moment is approaching uncanny, and a faint alarm bell sounds in the back of Simon’s mind.

“I only ask because, well, I never would’ve expected that a man of your stature would choose someone so… plain, shall we say? Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good girl, but she’s certainly not without her flaws. Stubborn, opinionated, talks too much, certainly far from the ideal housewife. And don’t get me started on how she takes care of herself. Really makes me wonder, Mr. Riley, what ulterior motives might you be hiding?”

“None, sir. Nothin’ I need from you that I can’t get myself.” Simon’s voice is flat as he tamps down the anger crawling beneath his skin. How does a real man speak ill of his own daughter so flagrantly? Does he really have no regard for you? He has half a mind to remove your father’s tongue after the wedding, if only for your sake.

“Pray tell, then.”

Simon scrubs a hand over his jaw before he answers, “Pretty girl. Smart from the sound of it. Doesn’t rely on attention from the public or ‘er daddy’s money. Ain’t lookin’ for a sweet little housewife; I like it when they bite back.”

“And you understand that she’s… How do I put this delicately?” He pauses. “She’s a bit bigger than what you'd consider a trophy wife."

Simon scoffs, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, he's aware of that. That's part of what drew him to you.

“Quite like a fuller figure. Don’t want a woman who’ll fuss over calories when I cook for ‘er.”

Your father mulls it over, chewing thoughtfully as he considers the words before him. Simon watches as the muscles in his jaw flex and reflex, and he swears he can hear the scales tipping back and forth as they try to find some balance.

Finally, he wipes his face with his napkin. His expression cracks into something adjacent to genuine, and that alarm gets just a little bit louder.

“I suppose this little meeting has reached its end.” He snaps his fingers twice as the waiter, gesturing for the check. Rude, in Simon’s opinion, but he bites his tongue.

“Sir?”

“I’ve got business to attend to back in the States, and by the sounds of it, a wedding to start planning.”

♡

part ii

[raayllum]

Anyway I did my 2nd watch of the season after sleeping / with the end in mind and it totally worked for me, especially with the understanding that there is 30% of the story left (and thereby Callum and Rayla's arcs aren't Over and room for more growth/plot had to be left open) and watching with the ending in mind.

I'm not upset that this is where Arc 2 ends, in some ways because it's sort of like season 2 of Avatar where Zuko doesn't join the Gaang in their 2nd arc (book two) because from a character basis he really wasn't Ready to do that / they had more story to tell, so I don't think with what they're doing it would've made sense to rush it in TDP. Nor do I think any of the previous set up for other outcomes (i.e. possession fight, salvation, etc) were wasted. Merely that TDP likes to do layer upon layer, and also have foreshadowing come back once (so you think you're safe) and then twice. I also don't think that Arc 2 resolved all the threads (i.e. Rayllum and greater good conflict / Aaravos & Callum) and ended them, and instead nudged them forwards in interesting ways for continued future exploration. I'll probably write more about the specifics later if this post doesn't get unwieldy or condensed with them for now.

In the meantime, these were things that I found really clicked for me on my 2nd watch through for S7 and with Arc 2 in general:

1) Arc 2's overarching focus on the Archdragons / the finale resolution with it.

We had a focus every season on at least one of the archdragons, with Zubeia (S4-S7), Luna Tenebris mentions (S4-S6), Rex Igenous (S4), Domina Profundis (S5), Sol Regem (S5-S6), and Avizandum mentions (S4-S5).

With that in mind, while I'm sure Aaravos' intentions was for no one to know of his plans ahead of time (7x01)... his actions also led to Callum and co. making connections to all the other Archdragons that they could pull on to bring everyone back to Lux Aurea, and Aaravos could destroy them (with no real consequence to himself, as his spirit was now free and his body could reform), taking a massive swing at the Cosmic Council's grand order that'd been enforced by the archdragons. He said the elves and dragons would fall hard... and now the dragons have, with the Cosmic Council being next (and thinking that the real focus on the Cosmic Council would be predominantly in arc 3 was, I believe, the general fandom consensus anyway).

AARAVOS: Now this is familiar, isn't it? Hasn't this all happened before? Arrogant fools. Again and again you make the same mistakes. (7x09)

Suitably, though, the Archdragons sacrifice themselves to protect all of Xadia, making amends for past / previous actions in their own way (narratively). They upheld the Cosmic Order, and then chose to break it.

Now, Aaravos will be returning to a world where there are no archdragons, and the only thing that can destroy his mortal form again would be the Nova Blade or some dark magic spell to take his spirit (but more on that later).

This also caps off S7 being about the destruction caused by one Archdragon (Sol Regem) and then the salvation through sacrifice from the other four as the finale. It comes full circle, but without repeating the cycle.

It also seems like the Nova Blade hasn't actually ever been used, as Aaravos states in 7x07:

She could have used the blade to destroy me, but chose instead to help imprison me. To spare me.

Or if it has, it still has a massive consequence that Zubeia is familiar with (the wielderdies if it's used to kill someone?), given that she is worried when Zym (and Ez wielding the sword) appears, intending to use it:

I'll also talk a bit more about why I think Aaravos designed 7x09 to be a win-win scenario for him no matter what when I get to Callum's section, but in the meantime...

2) Rayla's arc

Listen, y'all know I wanted Rayla to save Callum, like a lot, and thought there was a good chance she would if he was possessed again. However, neither of those things happened (also circumstances were crazy) and it was built up throughout the seasons, as well as in S7:

RAYLA: We can't save everyone, Soren. There's too much at stake. (4x05) RAYLA: But I can't help you yet... because right now, the world needs me. Callum and Ezran need me. There's a great evil returning to Xadia and we have to stop it, at any cost. (5x01) RAYLA: It hurts me to know they're trapped like this. It's agonizing. But our mission comes first. The world is in danger, and you can trust me to stay focused. (5x04) RAYLA: No, Callum. I want to help my parents, but I won't let it bias me. (6x01)

The season 7 setup is most prominently seen in S7 during Rayla's trial, in which she emphasizes that the assassins' deaths were not in vain due to the subsequent impact on the world as a whole, and in how their assassin pledges were upheld in their own way:

Life is precious. life is valuable. We take it, but we do not take it lightly. All of your lives were taken. But your sacrifices, they weren't for nothing. Callisto, you pledged your breath for freedom and we freed ourselves from an awful, pointless war. Andromeda, you pledged your eyes for truth. And we found the truth, a truth that changed the world. Skor, you pledged your strength for honour, and now humans and elves have finally begun to treat each other with honour again. And... Ram. You pledged your blood for justice. But what is justice? The king died that night. A life for a life. Is that justice? How much suffering is enough to paid for the mistakes we've made? I don't have the answers. But I'll carry you with me, all of you, forever.

So it made sense for her assassin oath to come back in some manner ("My heart for Xadia"). She had to honour her team's sacrifices by being willing to make her own (killing Callum and herself by symbolic extension), partially because her and Callum's "ride or die" dynamic had become a "ride and die" dynamic": this was his plan and his choice, and the alternative was to let him succumb to a fate worse than death AND to let Aaravos destroy the world through his hands.

And I get why this feels kind of backwards, because on the one hand, it seems like Rayla made a lot of progress, even questioning the validity of her own suffering for mistakes she / choices others have made, which is Huge!

And yet she's willing to suffer, and sacrifice Callum. The paying the price motif is even brought back in Aaravos' dialogue with the archdragons ("And what will your sacrifices buy?"). So what gives?

Well, I think in a lot of ways Arc 2 was Rayla learning to accept and ask for help (S5-S6), that she wasn't alone (S4, S7), and working to come back every time she leaves (S4) but... still being prepared to leave:

and still with sharing or acknowledging her own burdens not being her instinct.

There's a reason we all went "Rayla refusing to sacrifice Callum would be Character Development" after all. I also think it's quasi-similar to Rayla leaving after S3. She had a lot of opportunities to learn that she didn't have to do everything alone in arc 1, but those lessons didn't stick; in a similar fashion, Rayla had opportunities throughout arc 2 to learn that she doesn't always have to sacrifice something, but with Callum being increasingly sacrificial... Those lessons were there, but didn't stick. The other side of her sacrifice arc is not resolved.

With that in mind, I wanna talk about our favourite dorky mage, and then maybe arc 3.

3) Aaravos' Grand Plan & Callum's Corruption

This is a little hard to parse out just because we don't know what Aaravos' next step / goal was in bringing about Eternal Night (presumably to get the attention of the Cosmic Council, but who knows). That said, a few things I'm chewing on:

Aaravos, as previously discussed, found the most effective way to rid the world of (presumably) every Archdragon other than Zym

Aaravos, for whatever reason, wanted Ezran to have the Nova Blade, which Aanya even sets up for us in 7x09

Aaravos knew all along that Callum would turn to dark magic to take him down.

AARAVOS: Very soon, your brother will embrace dark magic to save those he loves. EZRAN: I suppose you've seen that written in the stars? AARAVOS: I have seen it written in his eyes. (7x07)

Furthermore, he wanted to have Callum be corrupted again, gave him the apple in 7x01 as the first attempt. The apple corruption was lampshaded with "Is there anything I can do to help?" + identity/name motif. Aaravos was actively goading him into dark magic in 7x09, even when he knew there was an assassin ready to kill Callum (Runaan), and smiling even when Callum began the spell (once Rayla had stepped in).

As of S7, Callum has been called (and not disputed being at least partially) a dark mage, used Viren's staff and now has it in his possession (and we still don't know why it was never supposed to be used again), and has a white streak. The willingness to go that far "has always been a part of" him and is now permanently reflected in his character design.

Secondly, we know that Aaravos' game with his pawns is not over, due to the secrets of the cube being ongoing (but confirmation in 7x09 that it indeed points towards Elarion) and due to framing with Claudia.

While I did consider that maybe Callum's pawn intro imagery had come back around in the conversation in 7x06 featuring the cube so heavily (!!) and then Callum choosing to do dark magic to stop Aaravos and save everyone as his destiny ("The one I write myself")... He's still corrupted, Aaravos is still going to come back in 7 years with Callum as a vessel, and the Key to the Book (metaphorically to literally the Book of Destiny) is still unresolved.

TLDR; think about how much it'd Hurt in a Good Way for Callum and Rayla to both know she would've sacrificed him for the greater good (fulfilling her end of foreshadowing from 6x03) only to be smacked in the face that Callum refuses to sacrifice her in Arc 3 with the other side of his ("if you ever have to choose between me and the greater good...").

The fact that the Cube canonically points towards Elarion, which feature stories about "a fair exchange of beloved for beloved" after a season in which Aaravos mandates "Your beloved is an assassin who cannot kill" is just the cherry on top. It also means that both Callum and Rayla have accordingly hit the 50-75% wavelength of their arc(s), with us now having a definitive basis for her being willing to that sets up more clearly her being not willing to in the future, the circumstances we'd need for a possession fight re-established, and the cube beat still on the table because the cube itself is still waiting to be plot relevant.

Rayla always follows Callum's lead ("Say the word and I'll go back into that tower with you") and reflects him ("Who told you that?" "You did") and the lessons he teaches her about love. He'll pave the way, and she'll follow, and then their arcs will come to a close.

We just had to get here first.

Conclusion??

Anyway I hope you enjoyed, I want to do a bigger Arc 3 predictions post (the ruby project, Evrkynd, Claudia, Harrow, etc.) sometime soon, but I hope in the meantime this brought some potentially needed assurance, excitement, or another perspective to consider.

[stayteezdreams]

Ghost of Christmas Past

Plot: Due to circumstances neither of you could control, you and your first love were forced apart, never to see each other again. Or so you thought. Until one Christmas, years later, when fate decided to cross your paths again.

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Gn!Reader *no specific age is mentioned but the reader and Hongjoong are referenced to be within the 26-29 age range.

Warnings: Shitty parents, mainly shitty father. Both on Hongjoong's side and readers side, but Hongjoong's father gets better in the end.

Words: 4.5k

With all the strength you had, you tried to pull yourself away from your father's grip. You needed to get to Hongjoong, you knew you couldn't stop them from taking him away, but you needed to try.

At the least, you needed to say goodbye. To tell him you loved him one more time.

Seeing him being forced into his father’s car, your chest ached painfully as tears poured from your eyes.

"Hongjoong!"

As Hongjoong struggled with the man forcing him out of his home, his head snapped in your direction at the sound of your voice.

You were trying to get away from your father, who was holding you back. Your eyes were desperate, as tears streamed down your face.

Hongjoong pushed the man in front of him as he called out to you. "Y/n!"

"Hongjoong!"

Almost getting away, but being pulled back again, he cursed at the man, "Let me go! Y/n!"

As Hongjoong was forced into the car, he pushed and kicked, calling out for you again and again. His eyes burned as his heart broke. The car sped away, and he could do nothing but press against the window as he got one last look at you as you finally slipped from your father’s grip and you ran after his car.

You chased after the car until your lungs burned and your legs gave out. Watching as it disappeared, taking Hongjoong with it. His desperate pleading eyes from the back window being the last time you saw him.

As your alarm blared, your eyes shot open, the memory of Hongjoong being torn away from you fading as you rubbed your eyes. A familiar ache sat in your chest as you let out a sigh and turned off your alarm.

Sitting up on your elbows you thought back on your dream, well, it was more of a memory. In your dreams a few things often changed, sometimes your mother was there, sometimes Hongjoong broke free from the bodyguard and ran towards you, but never reached you. Sometimes you caught up with the car, but Hongjoong was no longer inside.

This time, it was almost exactly as you remember, though it had been nearly ten years since it actually happened, so it was all a bit fuzzy, though the pain of the moment forever remained.

Climbing out of bed you wondered why you dreamt of it, of Hongjoong. Maybe because it was nearing Christmas. It was around this time of year that he was taken away. You had a lot of plans for that Christmas, but you were torn apart instead.

As you slowly made your way through your morning routine, you couldn't help but relive the past. Your dream bringing forward the familiar ache of heartbreak.

You and Hongjoong were like a modern-day Romeo and Juliet, with a little less death of course.

Your parents hated each other, well, your fathers hated each other, your mothers were just along for the ride.

You and Hongjoong were taught from a young age that you were rivals, enemies, that you were to never be in the same circle. But that didn't last long. The second the two of you were able to think for yourselves, you realized just how stupid their rivalry was. Based solely on business and money.

In Middle School, you and Hongjoong ended up bonding over your annoyance at your parents. It turned into a friendship, which turned into a relationship a short time later.

By the time you were in High School, you and Hongjoong were in love, planning to run away together as soon as you were old enough. To live your lives together, away from your father's control.

Your relationship was held a secret until your third year of High School, when one of your fathers’ colleagues saw you together on a date. Once your father found out, all hell broke loose. You were forced to change schools, but that didn't keep you apart.

So lost in their own rivalry and hatred for one another, Hongjoong's father, when learning that you two would not be easy to separate, and growing more irritated with your father’s anger, decided to send Hongjoong away to attend school abroad.

That was the day you lost him once and for all.

One day, Hongjoong and his friend Seonghwa went back to his house after school. They were blind-sided when they arrived, finding all of Hongjoong's possessions packed up.

After learning what was happening, Hongjoong told Seonghwa to come get you. He wasn't sure he would be able to stop his father from sending him away. But if he failed, he needed to see you, he needed you to know he wasn't giving in without a fight. That he didn't want to leave you. He knew it would be his father's intention to make you think he left you.

You tried to get to his house to see him in time, but your father chased after you, stopping you just before you got there. So, all you saw was Hongjoong being shoved into a car and whisked away to who knows where.

For months you hoped you would see him again, find out where he was so you could call him, write him a letter, anything to get in contact. But your father's made sure no information about Hongjoong got to you.

Eventually, your father made a deal with another company and got transferred to another city. So, your whole life was packed up, and whether you wanted to or not, you were forced to leave the one place Hongjoong would know where to find you.

You spent hours trying to find where he ended up. Finally contacting Seonghwa, but learning his father even kept him in the dark. So, you never found him. Eventually, as time passed, the heartbreak faded into a dull heaviness in your heart.

When you eventually moved back to Seoul on your own, you found yourself outside of Hongjoong's childhood home. You weren't sure what you were really doing there. Nothing good could come of it. But you thought, maybe, just maybe, Hongjoong might be there.

But he wasn't.

The man living there ended up coming out to see what you wanted after he saw you staring up at his house from the road. He informed you that the family that had lived there before had moved a few years earlier, to where he had no idea.

Without any hope left, you gave up on ever seeing Hongjoong again. But Hongjoong was, and would always be, your first love. And whether you knew it was there or not, the hope that you might cross paths again one day would remain with you forever.

You had been in relationships since then, but none ever lasted very long. Even though you were an adult now, and knew your relationship with Hongjoong was founded out of childhood friendship and bonding, you didn't ever doubt, had you not been separated, you would have been together forever.

Stirring your coffee, you smiled softly as you looked out at the cold winter sky. Ever since you moved back here after college you had been alone. Your father remained harsh and mean, your mother uncaring. So, you spent most Christmases alone.

A familiar sense of melancholy and loneliness rested in your chest as you finally shook yourself from your thoughts to get ready for the day. Getting dressed; your eyes kept drifting to a red scarf in your closet. Giving in, you pulled it from its hangar and wrapped it around your neck. You ran your hands over it as you smiled at the memory it came with.

A scarf given to you by Hongjoong during the first Christmas you were dating. Yours and Hongjoong's initials were embroidered onto the ends. You wondered if he still had the matching one, he got himself.

Did he still think of you? Did he try to find you?

You sighed as you allowed the melancholic nostalgia to take over, knowing it would sit with you all day, just as it always did when you thought of Hongjoong.

As Hongjoong walked down the once familiar streets of the city, he felt an odd sense of melancholy. Many of the buildings and shops he knew were changed or demolished. The faces he once saw every day were replaced by strangers.

Stopping by the park he used to frequent; he looked around with a nostalgic warmth washing over him. He smiled as he saw the snow-covered roses. The snow was sudden, catching everyone, even the flowers by surprise.

He wasn't sure why, but they reminded him of you.

Beautiful, bright, but repressed under something so cold.

A melancholic yearning filled his chest as he thought of you.

A couple years after he was sent abroad, his father began to relax in his stubbornness. Maybe it was because he was aging, or the way Hongjoong shut him out after he sent him away, but he started to regret hurting him.

After he saw how heartbroken Hongjoong was, how distant he became after he lost you, he finally saw he was wrong. He apologized for forcing the two of you apart. For forcing a petty rivalry that went too far onto the two of you.

As a way to make amends, Hongjoong was allowed to return home when he wished. But unfortunately for him, it was still too late. You were gone. Your father whisked you away one summer, moving you to another city, and ending the connected rivalry between your families.

By the time Hongjoong's father found out where you were moved too, another way to try and make amends, you were gone. You had moved out of your family’s home and gone off on your own to only God knew where.

As sad as this made Hongjoong, he was also glad. Glad you were able to escape, glad you were able to be brave enough to leave. You deserved to be free. He only wished you found happiness along the way, even if it meant he wasn't a part of it.

Recently, he got a job back here in his hometown. Even though his family moved out of his childhood home some years ago, the area still felt like home.

Though he had no idea where you ended up, he had a hope that one day he might run into you on the streets you used to stroll down together.

You might not have any feelings left for him, you might be in a relationship, you might even be married. But he still hoped that he would find you again, if only to learn that you were happy. That would be enough for him.

No matter who he dated or for how long, you seemed to be the only one who would ever hold his heart. And he knew it would remain with you forever.

As Hongjoong looked across the park, his breath caught. He must be imagining it. It must be because he was thinking of you so much that he imagined it.

Even with this thought, Hongjoong's legs moved without hesitation. The hair color, the height, the scarf, the scarf. His quickened pace turned into a run as the figure disappeared into the crowd of passerby’s.

Your name was on the tip of his tongue, desperate to be called out, but forced into silence out of doubt. His eyes darted from figure to figure, but you were nowhere in sight.

He let out a shaky sigh filled with an ache he didn't know he still held so deeply.

"Y/n." Your name left his lips like a fading dream he was desperate to cling to.

It wasn't you. It was just his imagination. You weren’t here.

Taking a few deep breaths as he tried to get rid of the painful ache in his chest, he crossed the road, aware his eyes were still searching for you, though he knew you weren't there.

Absentmindedly he grabbed onto the embroidered scarf around his neck, gripping the soft fabric tightly as he walked down the sidewalk. Not knowing that if he had just looked back one more time, a familiar face would be turning back at that exact moment.

A tingle on the back of your neck told you to look, though you weren't sure for what. You had the most peculiar sensation that there was someone behind you, someone you knew. You turned expecting to see a friend or coworker, someone whose familiar presence you sensed. But none of the faces behind you seemed familiar.

Furrowing your brow, your eyes cast over the people walking around you, your eyes lingering on one figure for a moment longer than the others.

Shaking your head and deciding it was nothing, you turned back and continued to head to work, forgetting about the feeling almost as quickly as it crept up.

No matter how hard he tried to distract himself, Hongjoong's thoughts kept finding their way back to you. So lost in these thoughts, he continuously zoned out instead of working.

Jumping as someone smacked his shoulder, his eyes met Seonghwa's as he chuckled. "Why are you so distracted today?”

Hongjoong sighed as he spun back and forth in his chair, "I thought I say Y/n earlier, but I think I just imagined it."

Seonghwa let out a soft sigh, the memory of the day you last saw each other passing through his mind. He was just an onlooker, a friend with no power to intervene, but the scene hurt him. He knew how in love the two of you were, seeing you forced apart stuck with him all these years. Ever since he and Hongjoong agreed to work together here in their hometown, he knew Hongjoong had been looking for you.

He wished he knew where you ended up, but it was a mystery to him as well. "Are you sure you imagined it?"

Hongjoong leaned his head back, "I think so. I was thinking about them right before it happened. And I didn't see their face, I think they just reminded me of Y/n."

Seonghwa nodded softly as he gently patted Hongjoong's knee, "You're still in love with them, aren't you?"

Hongjoong looked back at Seonghwa and nodded, "We never had an ending. We were forced apart, the pain of that never allowed the feelings to die naturally. I can't help but hold onto them."

"Who knows, maybe Y/n will make their way back home one day. You did." Seonghwa said somewhat passively, not sure if the comment would help or not. He turned back to his own work, leaving Hongjoong to wonder if you hadn't already returned.

You stretched as you finally finished work, looking out at the soft falling snow. Taking out your phone to order an Uber, you hesitated before putting your phone back in your pocket. You would walk home. A walk in the snow might do you some good.

Your feet took you down a once familiar path as you set your eyes on the park you used to frequent. The slide and swings were covered in snow, no children in sight. It was out of the way, the opposite direction of where you lived, but you frequented this path on purpose many times. Just to remind yourself of the past.

The sky was a dark grey, the sun hidden behind sheets of clouds and snow. Kicking the snow from one of the swings, you sat down, swaying gently as you looked around the park.

You and Hongjoong had come here often in the past, it was your hide out spot to be together in secret. Youd bring snacks and stare up at the sky for hours.

'Why am I thinking about him so much today?'

You had an odd feeling in your gut ever since you had woken up from your dream this morning. Assuming it would fade you continued on with your day, but it only got heavier. Did something happen to him? Was your connection still so deep that you felt it?

Your wandering thoughts caused the pit in your gut to grow as you began making yourself worry about something you couldn't know the answer to. Sighing as you looked around, your eyes paused on the snow-covered roses. You smiled at the sight, finding it both sad and beautiful.

Hearing footsteps crunching in the snow, you began to look for the source of the sound, your heart leaping as a voice called out right as you spotted the person approaching you.

"Y/n."

He hadn't imagined it, it was you.

After work, Hongjoong declined Seonghwa's offer for a ride home, deciding he wanted to walk back home for some reason.

Wanting to walk through the park again, maybe to bring back some fond memories of you. The last thing he was expecting was to actually see you.

But there you were, sitting on the same swings the two of you used to frequent years ago. Your scarf wrapped tightly around your neck as you swayed gently back and forth.

As he approached you, his heart was pounding so heavily he feared it might stop all together. You were older, obviously, but he could tell it was you from a mile away. You were the same, you were Y/n, his Y/n.

Your name left his mouth like an unspoken secret desperate to be told. "Y/n."

How was it possible? How could he be here? Right now, at the same time as you? Was it really him? Of course it was, he looked the same. It couldn't be anyone else.

"Hongjoong?" His name was barely audible, but just loud enough that the sound of it made his heart jolt painfully in his chest. He had dreamt of hearing you say his name again for so long.

Suddenly, standing from the swing, your heart was beating wildly as your stomach fluttered nervously. The two of you stared at each other, as if afraid you might disappear with the slightest movement.

"How- Why are you- What?" Your voice was bewildered as you tried to put together what was happening.

Was this why you were thinking of him so much today? Could you feel that he was close by? That he was here. Was that even possible?

He took a tentative step towards you, his breath shaky. "I thought I saw you earlier today, but I convinced myself I imagined it, but you're here. You're right here."

He seemed just as perplexed as you, as if seeing you was the last thing he expected, but far from the last thing he wanted.

Thinking back to earlier in the day when you felt as though someone was looking at you, you wondered if that was what you felt. Had he been so close without you knowing?

"How long have you been back?"

You asked, nervously filling the silence as a thousand questions and words filled your brain.

"A couple weeks. You?"

"A few years."

He let out a sigh, he should have come back sooner.

His eyes scanned over you as familiar emotions washed over him again. He let out a soft chuckle as he couldn't help but grin. He met your eyes, and you saw them shining a bit brighter as so many emotions passed through them.

"You look good. Are you? Doing good, I mean?"

You nodded softly, letting a smile form on your face as well. "I'm..." you hesitated, even after all this time you felt like you couldn't lie to him, you never could. But you should. This wasn't the same anymore, was it? "I'm good."

Hongjoong's heart dropped at this. The tone of your voice so familiar to the childhood sweetheart that hid all their hardships as to not worry him.

His smile turned sad as he walked closer to you, stopping a few feet away. "Liar."

Taken aback by the sudden familiarity of his reaction you let out a sharp chuckle before covering your mouth. His smile turned into a grin again as his heart fluttered. Your smile was something he feared he would never see again.

Before you could speak, his arms were suddenly engulfing you. You caught your breath as you froze in his embrace.

As the smell of his cologne washed over you, you felt a familiar warmth and comfort you had long since forgotten.

"I missed you." His voice was soft, but burdened with emotions you felt the familiar sting of.

It had been ten years, but he still felt like home.

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around him, tears stinging your eyes as you whispered back. "I missed you too."

Hongjoong felt a heavy weight in his chest disappear as he tightened his arms around you. He finally found you again, he finally found his way home.

You weren't sure how long you stood there in each other's arms before you finally pulled away from each other. You swallowed nervously as he stared at you, studying your features.

He placed his gloved hands on your cheeks as he wiped away a stray tear. "We have so much to talk about."

You nodded in agreement, excited that so many questions could finally be answered.

"I have a question first though." He said softly and you rose your brow. "You aren't dating anyone are you?"

You paused for a second before you laughed. That was not what you were expecting his first question to be. You shook your head. "No, I'm not."

He grinned, a familiar mischievous twinkle you used to swoon over. "Good." Taking your hand in his he squeezed it before he met your eyes again. "Come with me."

Taking the lead, he led you out of the park and down the street. Even though you didn't know where he was taking you, you didn't care. In the past you would have let him lead you to hell and gladly follow him, and you learned quickly, those feelings hadn't really changed at all.

Sitting at Hongjoong's kitchen counter, you held your hand up, "Okay so, basically, your dad felt bad about what he did and let you come back home, but by then I was gone. Then, he tried to find me, and when he did, I was already gone again. And then by the time I came back here, you had left again??"

Hongjoong nodded and you let out a soft sigh as you spun your mug of cocoa around in your hands. "I wonder how many other times we missed each other that we don't know about." You mumbled and Hongjoong huffed softly as he sat back down in the chair beside you.

“Considering what happened today, probably a lot.”

You chuckled, "It's like fate was playing with us."

As you took a sip of your drink, Hongjoong admired you. You were still you, he was still him, it still felt the same, though the feelings in his heart weren't so childish anymore.

You and Hongjoong had spent the last couple of hours talking about what happened since the day he was sent away. And just as quickly as you met again, any awkwardness between you seemed to fade away.

Leaning back in your chair you let out a soft sigh, "I'm glad your father changed. He always seemed to love you but had such a weird way of holding it against you."

Hongjoong nodded with a soft smile, glad too, that his relationship with his father had changed for the better. He couldn’t help but wonder how he would react to learning the two of you had been reunited.

"What about your father? What's he like now?"

You shrugged, "No idea. When I chose to go to university for what I wanted instead of what he wanted, he basically disowned me. The last time I talked to him was about a year ago, and all he said to me was 'Don't spend all your time with friends, do your job since you were so determined to leave for it.'" You scoffed after you mimicked your dad’s tone.

Hongjoong frowned at this, "And your mother?"

"She texts me occasionally asking how I am, but I don't know how much she actually cares. I was in the hospital a couple months ago and when I told her she just told me to be careful not to miss too much work."

Hongjoong sat up quicky, "You were in the hospital, why? What happened? Are you okay now?"

You stared at him with mild shock before you laughed and waved your hands, "I'm fine! I just had a really bad fever and passed out at work."

His eyes widened even more, "'You just had a fever and passed out'? 'Just?!' That's not fine!"

You laughed again before you felt a sudden wave of emotion causing you to look away from him. You giggled softly, and Hongjoong heard a hint of sadness behind it.

"You needed me, and I wasn't here."

You looked back at him with a questioning gaze, and he looked at you with a sense of guilt.

"I was the only one who made sure you took care of yourself. You always get so caught up in what you are doing and trying to be what your parents told you to be, that you forget about your own health. And your parents still don't give a damn. You needed me, I'm sorry."

You tilted your head as you smiled softly at him, "It wasn't your fault Hongjoong. And besides, it was just one bad moment. I'm a lot better at taking care of myself, you'd be proud of me!"

His frown became a smile at this. Reaching out he gently caressed your face. "I am. I'm proud that you didn't let them tear you down. That you didn't give into your father's wishes. That you took your own path even if you were alone on it."

Turning in his chair so he was facing you, he gently grabbed your legs and turned you to face him as well.

"But you aren't alone anymore. I'm here now. And if you want me, I'll stay. I'll be by your side again. There's nothing that could take me away from you now."

Memories of Hongjoong leaving flashed through your mind. Mixtures of hurt, relief, heartbreak and joy washing over you.

"Of course I want that Hongjoong. You were my first love, my home, and those feelings never went anywhere. They were still here, in my heart. They were just staying dormant until we found each other again."

He cupped your face again as he smiled, his voice was a soft whisper "My first love. My only love. I'll stay with you forever this time."

You felt tightness in your chest as your eyes brimmed with tears. "Promise?"

Leaning closer, he nodded softly as he whispered "I promise" just before his lips met yours in a kiss both of you had been waiting ten years for.

No matter how long you would have had to wait, ten years, twenty, fifty, your heart would always belong to Hongjoong. Even if the wait was painful and long, fate was kind enough to bring you back together. And nothing would separate you again.

xx End xx

I'm pretty happy with how this one came out, even if I couldn't get it down exactly how I wanted.

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[nastybuckybarnes]

Kingdom Fall  -  Four

Pairing: Farmboy!Bucky X Princess!Reader

Summary: When an invading Kingdom forces you to flee your home, you find yourself stranded in an enemy kingdom on a farm, and the farmboy is nothing like you thought he would be.

Warnings: Violence, Angst, Fluff, Injuries, mentions of SA, Mentions of Murder,

Word Count: 4.2K

A/n: Like lowkey i didn’t know anyone was interested in this series but ig some of y’all are which is great cause i have 7 parts of this already written lol

Series Masterlist

~*~

“Again!” Steve shouts, glaring at the farmboy who’s fallen onto his back.

You watch as the two spar, admiring how they move, how their muscles ripple and flex as they fight.

It’s been near two weeks since Steve found you, and James has already picked up on how to wield a sword. Something about the way he holds it with such ease has you questioning just who he truly is, but you pay that thought little mind.

Instead, you focus on the map in front of you, circling specific areas where you know your people will seek refuge.

All you need now is to gather supplies.

You look around James’ small little house and a wave of sadness crashes over you.

He would really leave this for you. He would abandon his post for someone he barely knows.

Since Steve’s return, James has been a little more reserved, a little bit quieter than before.

And Steve has been a little more agitated than normal. The soldier that you knew was kind and softhearted. The man who found you is rough and aggressive. You’re not sure if it’s because of the circumstances, or if there’s something beyond that that is causing his new attitude.

You glance out the window again, unable to tear your eyes from the two men for long as they spar.

Both have relieved themselves of their shirts beneath the hot sun, opting instead to work bare from the waist upward.

You watch, impressed, as James manages to get Steve onto his back, yielding to the brunet.

He has the skill of a born fighter, and the grace of one as well.

He offers his hand to Steve, who glares at it and rises to his feet.

“You do not help the enemy,” he barks, glaring at the farm boy.

James stares at him for a long moment before speaking.

“And you do not turn your back on your allies,” he retorts.

Steve glares at him then turns away. “We are finished for the day.”

You can't help but roll your eyes at them and their antics.

They enter the cabin together and you don’t look up from your maps.

“I do hope that by the time we enter battle, you two are no longer squabbling like boys,” you muse.

“We are not squabbling,” Steve murmurs, pulling up a chair and taking a seat.

You look between the two men, lips pursed.

“Well then, what would you call it?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer but gets silenced quickly when James raises his hand.

The blond glares at him, the expression fading a moment later when he hears what’s got the brunet on edge.

“Horses,” you murmur, rising to your feet and peering out the window.

The two men come behind you, each ready to protect you with their lives.

“They wear the King’s colours,” James says, his arm finding your bicep and pulling you from the window.

The horses are barrelling down the gravel road, still a fair distance away, but you’ve no doubt that they’re looking for you.

“Guards searching for refugees, no doubt. For us,” Steve whispers.

You look between the two men for a moment before your eyes dart back to the window, trying to formulate a plan.

“Here, follow me.” James grabs your hand and leads you toward the bedroom. “There’s a small door to the cellar beneath the bed. You should be safe there.”

Steve pulls you from the brunet’s grip and shakes his head.

“Why should we listen to you? For all we know, this could be an ambush.”

You’d be lying if you said the thought never crossed your mind.

You peer over at James, waiting to see his response, to see if there’s any malice or lies behind his eyes.

You find nothing but honesty and worry, though, as he defends himself.

“I have already sworn my life to protect her. I would not risk endangering her. And, if I were to want harm to befall her, why would I allow you to teach me how to wield a sword? And why would I not have done it prior to your arrival?”

He asks question after question that holds nothing but proof of his true intentions.

Steve must realize this, too, because he reluctantly moves the bed and opens the latch on the floor.

A dark hole greets you, and a ladder leads the way.

Steve, ever the warrior, leads the way, calling for you to follow him once he's reached the bottom.

You take a deep breath, eyes connecting with James’ one last time before you begin your descent.

A warm hand finds the small of your back as your feet hit the floor, and you and Steve look up at James as he stands above you.

“As soon as I am certain they're gone, I will come fetch you.”

You nod, “be safe.”

He smiles softly at you, his eyes tender for a brief moment before he closes the latch, submerging you and Steve in darkness.

“This was a bad idea,” the blond murmurs after a moment, stepping closer to you when he hears the bed scratch along the wooden floors above your heads.

“You didn’t exactly have a better plan, did you?” You retort, reaching for him and allowing your fingers to spread across his chest.

One of his hands comes up to hold yours in place and he sighs heavily.

“I do not trust him, Princess. He has not yet proven to me that he is trustworthy.”

“But he’s proven it to me. Is that not enough for you?” You question softly.

Since you were a young girl, Steve has been there for you. Even as a sickly child, he still pledged his life to you, swore his sword would forever be yours and that he would always protect you and obey you - and you, in turn, swore to never take advantage of his oath. He’s made sacrifice after sacrifice for you, as you have for him, and so you thought you were at a point where you could trust each other endlessly.

“Princess, I do not question your judgement,” he clarifies softly, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. “I question his intentions. You will forgive me if it takes more than a moon cycle or two for a Lornillian man to prove his worth to me.”

You ponder his words carefully while your fingers trace patterns on his chest.

You understand where he’s coming from. Steve has seen firsthand what the men of Lornilla have done. Though you feel in your heart and soul that James is different. He must be.

You trust him.

Maybe not wholly, but enough to allow him temporary power over you.

“I... I understand your hesitance in trusting him,” you finally concede, nodding along with your own words though he can barely see you in the darkness of the cellar.

“I do understand, though I hope you are not closed off to the idea of there being good in men. I have found it in myself to trust a man born of Lornilla before, and now I am doing it again.”

Steve falls silent, the reminder of his past haunting him.

The two of you have spent many nights by a campfire, telling stories of your past. Reliving horrors that you shouldn’t have had to face in the first place. And every time you both have come to the conclusion that, had you not seen and experienced such hardships, you would not be the people you are today.

You open your mouth to speak again but snap it closed when you hear footsteps creaking overhead and male voices talking. One is familiar. The others are not.

Steve pulls you closer, one hand on the hilt of his sword as he glares up toward the cellar door, ready to fight to the death for you if need be.

For a brief but definite moment, you realize how foolish this has been.

You truly have not known James long at all, and now your life is in his hands.

No more than before, you suppose.

But now you have no advantage. At least before, when it was only the two of you, you had your weapons and your skill. Sure, he may be stronger, but you’re a warrior. A fighter. You’ve fought more battles than you can count and slain more enemies than you’d like to know.

But now? Now you’re completely at the mercy of the Lornillan men. If they were to storm the cellar they would have the upper hand. You are nothing more than a sitting duck, awaiting a hunter's arrow.

The footsteps fade from the room, but Steve stays standing at attention, eyes trained on the cellar door.

He shoves you behind his back and unsheathes his sword when the bed scratches against the floor a few minutes later, and then the two of you are showered with light.

He blinks furiously against it, willing his eyes to adjust so he can do his duty, so he can protect you, but James stands alone at the door to the cellar.

“They’re gone. The dust has settled behind their horses, but I cannot be sure they will not come back.”

Steve glares at him then climbs out, scanning the room and the house before returning to you only to find you accepting James’ help out of the cellar.

“What did you tell them?” The blond demands, glaring at the farm boy.

James looks between the two of you and sighs.

“They’re looking for the missing Princesses of Aresia. I told them I know nothing of Aresia. I thought our King strong enough to overthrow women.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, pondering his words for a long moment before turning to Steve.

“You need to train harder. We do not have time to spare anymore. It is only a matter of time before they come back or worse - find the others. We need to leave and we need to do so soon.”

Like seasoned soldiers, the two follow your command diligently.

The next several days are spent with the two of them training while you pour over maps and books and stockpile all the supplies you can.

Since Steve’s return, your nights have been spent alone in James’ bed. The brunet uses the excuse of tending to the animals - a task he is no longer able to do during the day- and the blond claims to be monitoring the perimeter.

You’re going over the route to safety one more time, trying desperately to memorize it before your journey in a few days.

The supplies have been packed, for the most part, and are stored in the stables with the horses.

The sun has just begun setting, and James and Steve are wrapping up their training for the day.

You’re so caught up in your reading that you almost don’t hear the hooves beating against the gravel.

Almost.

When you notice the guards, you shoot to your feet and immediately grab your weapons from where they lay strewn across the kitchen table.

You rush out the back door into the field where the men are sparring, both of them freezing when they see the panic on your face.

“Riders. Men of the King. They’ve come back.”

The two men look to the gravel road and Steve feels his stomach drop while James’ heart ties itself in knots.

“We cannot risk going back to the house. They’re too close, they’ll see us,” Steve murmurs, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the barn.

“In the hayloft. There are bails to hide behind. A ladder leads there from behind the pile in the far corner. They will not think to look there. Move quickly,” James urges, turning toward the pig pen to busy himself with the animals.

You and Steve follow his instructions, running over to the barn and yanking the door open, then slipping inside and pulling it shut tightly behind you.

You follow James’ instructions and climb the ladder in the corner with Steve hot on your heels.

The hayloft is old and rickety, and you pray that it doesn’t collapse under the combined weight of you and Steve.

Eventually, the two of you settle, buried beneath the hay and pressed tightly together.

He has an arm wrapped around you, keeping you grounded and making sure you know he’s there, that he’s not going to let anything happen to you.

Meanwhile, James is trying to make it look as though he truly has been working in the fields all day, rather than sparring and training to fight against the very Kingdom he resides in and provides for.

“You there! Farmboy!” A guard shouts, barrelling onto his land on horseback. There are at least six other guards behind him, all on horses, and James feels like he may be sick.

“Yes?” His voice is surprisingly steady.

“Have you seen any refugees? Fleeing from the neighbouring country? Women?”

James pretends to think for a moment then shakes his head.

“None through this way, no. Why? Are we expecting some women folk?”

The guard looks around James’ property then looks over to the house.

“May we come in?”

James swallows hard then nods, wiping his hands on his pants.

“If I’d’ve known you lot were coming I would’ve put some tea on.”

The leader only chuckles and shakes his head.

“That won’t be necessary. We only need to have a word with you.”

James leads the way back to the house, taking note of the few guards who don’t follow and instead opt to look around his property.

Trying to act as casual as possible, James takes a seat at his kitchen table and prepares to put on the act of the century.

“So, you have not had any visitors lately? Nobody unexpected has come around?” The guard asks.

James shrugs, “besides yourself? No.”

The guard nods, slowly taking a look around the house.

This guard is different than the one that came the first time. In fact, they all are.

These ones are rougher. Far harder and they have an anger beneath their eyes that has James on edge.

He’s not sure it’ll be so easy to talk his way out of it this time.

“If you were to come upon a woman, what would you do?”

James shrugs and rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, I reckon I would probably use her the way women need be used. Stuff her full of my cock an’ see if she has any use. Otherwise, I would bring her to town. Sell her for a penny or two.” The vile words physically hurt to speak, and James hopes you never have to hear him speak this way.

The guard nods, eyeing the brunet carefully.

“The King has now put out a notice that any woman who is not visibly owned by a man or accompanied by her owner will need to come to the village square to have her worth determined. Especially if she is a face not seen before. We do not care for whores at the whorehouses. They have no business in the village square. But women who seem untouched. Women who do not understand the way the world works. Women who would dare speak against you. Those are the ones that are to be collected and brought before us for judgment.”

James nods his understanding.

“Should I stumble upon one, I’ll be sure to bring her to the village square.” He pauses for a moment then looks up at the guard, “do I need to leave her untouched?”

The guard chuckles and claps a hand on the brunet's shoulder.

“You may do what you please with her, we only need her alive to determine her worth.”

The guard takes a calculated look out the window, then nods to himself and rises to his feet.

He roots through his pockets for a long moment before producing a small coin purse and dropping it on the table.

“Consider this... payment for your cooperation. I’m sure you’ll find it more than enough to cover the expenses.”

James pulls his brows together then follows the guard's gaze out across the field and toward the barn.

Smoke pours from the roof, and James feels his stomach drop into his feet.

“Well, we’ll be on our way now. You remember what I said about those women. Failure to bring them forward is treasonous, punishable by death.”

James only stares at the barn, his heart racing in his chest as the guards leave.

You don’t notice it at first, nose pressed against Steve’s chest. It isn't until you hear it that you start to question what’s going on.

“Is that...” Steve trails off quietly, sniffing the air then pushing into a seated position.

Sure enough, bright orange flames lick up the sides of the building, the hay feeding the fire quickly.

Beyond the crackling of the fire, you can make out male voices speaking just beyond the door.

You slowly raise your eyes to Steve’s silently asking him what to do, if you can fight your way out of this.

He takes a slow breath then nods toward the ladder that you climbed to get to the hayloft.

Slowly, you climb back down, one hand pressed to your mouth and nose to try and prevent inhaling the smoke as much as you can.

Steve follows you down then jogs silently over to the barn door, one ear pressed to it before he shakes his head and makes his way back over to you.

“They’re standing at the door. We cannot leave that way. We must find another exit.”

You swallow hard and nod, looking around the barn for anything that could be used as an exit.

The building quickly fills with smoke, the temperature increasing as the fire devours the hay.

Time is running out.

Sweat is already beading across your neck, a single droplet rolling down your back as you and Steve search for another exit.

The crackling of the fire is almost deafening and the heat is quickly becoming unbearable.

You duck under a low-hanging beam near the back of the barn, desperate to find another exit. A hole in the wall. A window. Anything that will grant you even a breath of fresh air to clear your head.

Each breath has your lungs stinging and your head growing cloudier.

“Princess!” Steve’s voice whispers harshly, a hand finding your bicep and tugging you closer to the wall.

You look up at him, confused and groggy as more of the smoke clouds your senses.

His blue eyes seem far away, the smoke between the two of you muddling those clear depths.

“Steve,” you whisper, one hand finding his forearm.

This can’t be it, can it? This cannot truly be how it ends for you, not when you have so much to do, so many people to save.

You stumble a step and cough as the smoke invades your lungs.

“This way, hurry,” Steve whispers, grabbing your hand and leading you along the wall.

You follow blindly, the flames growing taller and stronger and consuming everything in their path. It will only be mere minutes until you and Steve are included in that.

“Hurry, Princess. Out this way,” Steve whispers, pointing to a small door along the wall across from you, directly across from the main door.

You look over at him and give him a nod, then hurry across the barn and through the flames with him right behind you.

A loud creak sounds from overhead and you pause for a moment to find the source of the sound, and a moment is all it takes for a beam from the ceiling to come tumbling down toward you.

“Princess!”

One moment you’re staring certain death in the face, and the next moment you’re on the ground, gravel and hay biting into your skin.

“Steve!” You rush to his side, eyes wide as you see the beam pinning his leg down.

“I’m all right,” he rasps, panting hard then coughing, “it’s only on my armour.”

You reach for the beam without thinking, grabbing and heaving only to cry out softly in pain as the hot wood burns your skin.

Releasing it as slowly as you can manage, you wipe your hands on your dress and look around desperately to find something to give you enough leverage to push the beam off of him.

“Go, Princess! Now!” Steve commands, glaring at you when you shake your head at him.

“No. I left you once, I will not do it again!” You retort, reaching for the beam again only to be overtaken by a fit of coughs.

“You are of no use to your country, to your people and your sisters, if you are dead.”

Your eyes meet his and you shake your head, beyond furious.

You will not leave him to die.

With shaky legs, you rise and run out of the barn coughing as the fresh air bites at your lungs.

“(Y/n)!”

You look to the sound, pointing to the barn as your coughing continues.

“Steve,” you croak, grabbing James’ hand when he rushes to your side, “he’s trapped. Please, y-you must help him.”

James looks up at the burning barn then back down to your face, his decision made.

Without a second thought, he rushes into the burning barn toward the blond on the floor.

He inspects the scene, one hand covering his mouth and nose to prevent the smoke from getting to him too quickly.

Grabbing a stray branch from the ground, James hurries to Steve’s side and shoves the wood beneath the beam pinning the blond to the ground.

With a mighty heave, he frees the soldier, and Steve is quick to scramble out of the barn with James hot on his heels.

The blond coughs violently, immediately rushing to your side and checking you for injuries with little regard for his own health.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, one hand cupping your face while his eyes scan your body.

You shake your head, hating how strained his voice is. It reminds you of when the two of you were children and he was more sick than he was healthy.

James watches the exchange and feels his stomach sink just the tiniest bit.

It sinks further when the reality of the situation hits him and he realizes just how much he’s lost.

He turns to the burning barn with tears in his eyes.

He remembers building that when he was just a boy with his father. Tending to the animals, playing in the hayloft with his sister.

His whole life has been spent here, and now it’s nothing more than a pile of rubble.

Your eyes find the brunet and sorrow makes your own heart heavy.

You slowly make your way over to him, placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder.

“James...?”

He takes a deep breath and turns to you, his eyes glossy.

“When do we leave?” He asks, his voice full of both anger and pain.

You take a deep breath and look at everything in front of you. You look at the burning barn, at the setting sun and the small farmhouse.

Your gaze then travels to the men with you.

“The way to the shelters is long. We must go through the city and gather provisions. We leave tomorrow.”

James takes another deep breath and nods, turning away from the smouldering remains of his past life and looking you in the eye.

“It is not safe for women in the city. You will need to do as I say. The men will be harsh, but you cannot argue. Being by our side will do you well and keep you safe, but if other men realize who you are, they will not hesitate to slay us where we stand in order to get to you and bring you before the King.”

You swallow hard and nod, trying to take it all in.

This will be a true test of your patience and your acting all in one.

“With the gold they gave me for... my trouble...” James begins, “we will have more than enough to cover food and water. Likely enough to last several weeks. We will walk the horses through the city, you will need to wear a cloak that will cover your weapons and your identity.”

He turns to Steve, “you will need to listen to me. This is the city that I grew up in. I know how to travel unnoticed. You and your mannerisms will stick out like a sore thumb. If we are to ever reach our destination safely, you will both need to trust me and follow along with what I do.”

Steve glances at you, waiting for you to agree before he does.

When you finally nod your agreement, the blond does the same, and James sighs.

“Rest. I will salvage what I can overnight.”

Steve places a gentle hand on the brunet's shoulder, smiling softly.

“I will help you,” he says firmly, allowing the brunet no room to argue.

James’ eyebrows raise and he looks between you and Steve carefully.

“We all require sleep this night. I will help you,” he repeats.

James slowly nods and you watch as the two of them head off together to salvage what they can and prepare for the long journey ahead.

[felassan]

Some things in BioWare's transcript of the August 30th dev Discord Q&A are a lil different to what was actually said in the Q&A. not only editing to tidy up and be concise etc; some of it seems to actually be new/additional (or updated?) information. this post is just a quick summary of the new or different things I noticed when comparing the BioWare transcript to a word-for-word transcript (or at least the ones that stood out to me anyways). DA:TV spoilers under cut.

This post is a mix of new snippets and rephrased answers to things that were rephrased in a way that stuck out to me or interested me. nb, it doesn't highlight changes if the change was something not being included in the BioWare transcript (there was some of that too).

John Epler: "I don't know if any of [the Evanuris] consider [tea] a favorite beverage"

[re: hugging Assan] Assan "always appreciates the attention. He's got a sharp beak and he'd let you know if he didn't."

Variation of the WEWH question answer:

"There's always going to be politics to some degree - there are a number of different groups with different priorities, and not all of them are going to be immediately disposed towards trusting you. But while the Inquisitor had an organization and an army (and even Hawke and the Hero of Ferelden spent more time moving in political circles), Rook's situation is a little more desperate and immediate. Their approach is therefore a little more direct, and so while they may occasionally find themselves in the political sphere, they're not trying to assemble an army or build consensus amongst nation states."

[on companions' ages] The part of this where they described the companions' age range has been changed from where it said "early-mid twenties" to just say "mid twenties". Also, Taash was said to be "early twenties"; she is now simply "the youngest".

New sentence on the ages: "We don't usually nail down a specific age, unless it's something that comes up in their content, but we want to have an idea as to their general age range as we're writing them."

If no side characters stand out as a good candidate for a 'light' romance, this is never something they want to force

Griffons as half-bird half-lion - it now reads half-eagle half-lion

"Thedas has always been filled with extraordinary people, and in DATV you're trying to save the world. It stands to reason that the people you're bringing on board are going to be people with extraordinary circumstances of their own."

On the Veil not being in great shape and having been deteriorating in recent times/the intervening period between games, a more specific figure is given: "things in general have been slowly getting worse over the past decade and a half"

Lucanis and Bellara find out they have a lot in common and develop a "really fun" friendship, even though "it's hard to think of two companions who feel more different on the surface"

Neve and Bellara's friendship "kind of evolved organically as we were writing them, and finding out all the opportunities we could to throw little tastes of it into dialogue was a blast"

when enemies are slowed due to Slow Time, Rook stays moving at full speed

Rook's weapons and companions' gear can also be transmogged in addition to Rook's armor gear and casualwear

New sentence: "I've built Harding as a Support Character one run, and a DPS the next run. If you want to use Davrin as a DPS, you can do that."

"But each Companion has a gift that you can purchase from vendors in the world, and then give it to them." - it sounds like there is only one unique gift that you can give to the companions each?

"In general, something like a short story anthology is a volunteer thing - we ask people what they want to write and, generally, people tend to gravitate towards character ideas and concepts they already had in mind for a companion."

"So it's rare that we write a character that isn't intended to be a companion and then think 'oh wow this character would be a great fit', but it's not unheard of either."

"Ultimately we wanted to be sure that The Veilguard could be a good entry point to Dragon Age for new players and people who know almost nothing about the universe. But if you're the kind of player who wants to catch the most references, I'd suggest reading The Missing (most recent comic series) and Tevinter Nights. The former is a direct narrative setup for the beginning of the game" while Tevinter Nights is "less of a direct narrative tie", though it introduces "characters, concepts and story elements" that show up in the game

New sentence and info: [John Epler] "The Archon's Palace floating was something we came up with midway through writing Tevinter Nights and I had to furiously rewrite a few things." - the Floating Building is the Archon's Palace?

"Mae is a character that means a lot to so many DA fans" (<3)

Crow politics are now described as "complex" as well as deadly

"Some romances allow you to express interest without 'committing'" - so it sounds like not all of them allow this? - "but all romances eventually end up being exclusive"

"With each specialization we wanted to explore, both visually and through gameplay, what a specific class member of that faction might look like. Spellblade, for example, is our answer to the question 'what does a mage assassin look like'."

Our ability to save PCs so we don't have to start from scratch in CC each time was very important to the devs

"the feeling we want to evoke over the course of the game is one of growth, both in yourself as Rook and in your companions as they overcome their own problems with your help. These problems are often external in nature, but they are always tied, at their core, to the conflict that the character carries within them. And they are, also, always uniquely Dragon Age problems on the surface, but still relatable."

The difference in the answer to the is Lucanis possessed question interested me.

Original for the sake of comparison:

"So, again, spoilers, everyone has been warned, fairly warned. So Lucanis Dellamorte is also known as The Demon of Vyrantium. And, he has spent a lot of time killing Venatori, who are mages, and who do know a lot about demons, so. Yeah, somebody decided that it might be a good idea to make that nickname stick."

New:

"There's definitely something going on with Lucanis - and before you hired him, he was known as the Demon of Vyrantium. Might be that someone took offense to that nickname, especially since he earned it by killing Venatori."

New sentence in the answer to the is Thedas a southern continent question:

"Of course, nothing says that distance to the sun is the only factor impacting weather."

.. [probably reading too much into this don't look at me ik many factors influence weather irl hhh] magic? the Veil? the deteriorating Veil? the risen Gods? the Blight? Thedas is experiencing global warming? :D

"As part of our attempt to make the companions feel like they have their own lives outside of just Rook, we asked ourselves what pairings made the most narrative sense and then talked about how they might actually unfold in the game. And even before companions get together, you can see that interest starts to develop. Which is, I think, one of my favorite things about the companions. They don't just fall in love with each other, they become friends, confidents, and even rivals at times"

It takes Davrin a while to trust others. He can be a little standoffish, but eventually he warms up to anyone who shows that they have his back

As a monster hunter a lot of Davrin's hobbies revolve around that

"a lot of elves go around shoeless, and that's in part because they believe it brings them closer to nature. What better way to understand what the world and ground are saying than to walk directly on it? but not every Dalish follows this custom" [...] "The Veil Jumpers, in general, are a little more likely to wear boots and shoes, as they're far more likely to end up in dangerous places and fighting unsettling creatures than the average Dalish"

On Bellara's boots: "you never know when you're going to find a broken artifact with a lot of sharp edges."

Bellara is a big fan of pan-frying anything she can (re: food)

Lucanis has the refined palate of an Antivan Crow

Getting the beards to work with all the armor variations that they have was especially challenging with dwarves because they "tend to be" shorter

Those beards that were designed with dwarves in mind can alsobe used for humans and qunari (I wonder then if elves cannot have beards in CC? Like I know they usually don't have them or have it in CC and that lore says they don't but there are a also a few lorebreaking instances of it and I wasn't sure which way this one would go given how 'free choice/options for all' the CC in this game has sounded like it has been designed to be)

"You'll see more on this as we showcase character creator in our runup to launch"

For this question "Since you can choose to be a part of the same faction for most of the companions, will that give you an advantage when trying to befriend them?", the answer now reads that in addition to the unique dialogue same-background Rooks have with the companion of that background, it can also "change the timbre of your relationship a little bit"

John Epler: "one of my favorite things about this group of companions is how much time they spend with each other"

[on the companions] "They're a family, and like a family, they don't always get along"

"A lot of Solas' relationship with the player is personal. He sees a lot of himself in Rook - both the good and the bad - and largely talks only to you, as you're the one he has a connection with."

"Not to mention at least a couple of followers who would likely love to ask an ancient Elven god some questions."

"a common complaint we've heard in past games is that many players disliked always feeling like they needed a Rogue to be able to lockpick, so fortunately Rook finds a method to use these exploration abilities even when the associated Companion is not in your party"

An example of a companion's unique exploration ability is that Emmrich has an ability to briefly reanimate skeletons to open gates

Qunari not wearing helmets and only vitaar allows more flexibility when it comes to horns customization in CC

"yes - there will be some pretty obvious Act breaks. Not all content fits neatly into these buckets, as it's more a way of breaking up the critical path (companion and other side content follows a different cadence), but there are some pretty obvious Acts built into our game. A lot of the missions, though, we want to make sure players have the freedom to decide what they do and when they do it, so while they may have internal acts (follower missions form their own arcs), they don't conform to the overall main quest arcs"

The difference in the answer to the is Assan the only griffon question confirms that Assan was specifically one of the baby griffons that hatched at the end of Last Flight. (as opposed to another clutch that was laid in the last decade)

Old:

"So, again, just to be clear, spoilers, but yeah, Assan has brothers and sisters, so Assan is not the only griffon that shows up in Dragon Age The Veilguard."

New:

"If you read Last Flight, you'll know that Assan isn't the only griffon from that clutch of eggs, so he's got brothers and sisters. And if one griffon is good, a whole family of them is better, right?"

"We briefly experimented with other options for last names but it became unwieldy as we do refer to your Rook by their last name on several occasions, and accounting for 6 potential last names is already a lot of complexity."

Variation of the 'what goes into bringing back old characters' question answer:

"We always - both for Morrigan and any other characters we bring back - think about what they would've been up to since the last time anyone saw them. These characters should feel like real people, and the last thing we want to imply is that their stories stalled out while they weren't directly in the player's adventuring party. So we look at their arc before the time skip, and then think about where that arc would've taken them. In the case of Morrigan, she's coming to terms with a lot of truths about herself and about her mother. There are elements of her past that she's come to terms with, which is why she wears a version of Flemeth's crown. Ultimately you want the world to feel like it's real. And no one's the same person today that they were 10 years ago. That's stagnation, and it's bad in fictional characters as it is in real people."

The orb part of orb and dagger is called an Elemental Orb

Variation on the Dalish Elf vs City Elf question answer:

"While I think 'city elf' vs 'Dalish elf' is a useful distinction in the South, there's a lot more nuance in the North. Rivain, for example, has Dalish settlements intertwined with other cities. There's just not the same separation, so each of the factions has a unique approach to your lineage. You can define some of that further with choices you make in conversations - we really wanted to leave a lot of that open to players to RP."

[localization question answer variation] "Games are so complex and have so many moving pieces that you need to be in regular communication or things get missed. And a lot of that is because ultimately localization is more than just a straightforward translation. Jokes, metaphors, sayings - even specific lore terms - aren't just a matter of finding the equivalent word in another language. Every writer has a story about a time they had to explain the specifics of an off-color joke they wrote so that localization could properly capture the intent."

So mostly variations (as in rephrasing) and things, but some of the new info that particularly stood out to me was things like the description of Emmrich's exploration ability, the mention that the Floating Building is the Archon's Palace (iirc this was speculated before but not confirmed?), the new lil details or insights on Assan and Davrin, the bit about Assan being from the Last Flight eggs, etc.