#What's the point in me getting these fabrics... if I won't get to use them for a while? can I be sure I'll use them in the future?

[ddejavvu]

hiiiii! i love ur sirius x animagus!reader collection :)

how about one where the girls dont know that r is the cat they see sirius hanging out with and one of them knits a sweater for sirius' 'cat' and sirius and the boys r just like "shes vicious when it comes to costumes :(" feeling bad for whoever made the sweater but then r like lets them put it on or smth and theyre surprised?

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

i've sort of twisted your prompt just a teeny tiny bit!! i hope all of the parts you liked most are still in there, though :') // also this one was hard to tag 'cause again technically it's sirius x reader but he's not present and she's not with james either so i used both of their tags just because they're technically the central focus of the overarching story even if this part is a little less defined

--

James thinks it might be the worst day of his life so far, and isn't sure what mischief he could have inflicted upon anyone to possibly deserve this cruel of a punishment.

Lily Evans is standing before him, face kind instead of pinched in annoyance as it so often is at his presence, and she's handing him something. As in, he will take it from her and their hands will brush. As in, her skin will touch his. As in, he's never going to wash his hand again.

"I'm glad I found you,-"

She's glad she found him!

"-I couldn't catch Sirius before he left Potions," She laments, "Could you let him know I made this for his cat, Potter?"

James's stellar brain and above-average intelligence supply him with the phrase, 'Huh?', which might possibly be the least embarrassing thing he's ever said to her, and that doesn't fare well.

"That's Sirius's new cat, isn't it?" She presses on, and James forces himself to tear his eyes off of her ethereal face to glance at you, draped lazily over the couch cushion beside him soaking up the warmth of the fire. Your eyes were lazy before Lily had shown up, but at the sight of what she's holding out; knitwear, they narrow and sharpen. It's an odd shape, not human size, with openings for four legs.

"I thought she might be getting cold now that the snow's started up," She tilts her chin towards the window, glazed over with frost, "And I just figured I could knit her a little sweater."

Not even James's fear of your claws can deter him from accepting the gift from Lily. He takes it - and their hands brush! Just like he'd hoped for! - grabbing you unceremoniously around the middle and dragging you onto his lap.

"She loves sweaters." He fibs, shamefully distracted by Lily's face as he tries wrestling you into the garment. You're well aware of why he's lying to her, because the last time you'd been faced with cat clothes, you'd ripped a hole in his bedspread. But this is Lily, and you refrain from shredding the fabric of his pants as he shoves you into the sweater.

He's clumsy with it, because he's not giving you his full attention, and you let out a disgruntled meow as he smears the fabric of the sweater over your face instead of tugging your head through the hole.

"Now, Mittens," He chuckles tensely, "Just- put your paw through there, don't scratch me-! And- there." He announces proudly, hoisting you up into the air just beneath the joints of your front paws. He displays you to Lily, and you steel yourself as she croons and reaches out to pet you. She's far gentler than the man holding you, and you'd appreciate it at any other point in time, but the sweater she'd knit you is itching against your fur and dragging it against the grain, and you'd like to leave it in ribbons as you bolt up the staircase. For everyone's sake, you won't.

"Look at that," James announces proudly, "She loves it. Thanks, Lily."

She smiles, a soft gesture, but not a weak one. She nods, "James," And takes her leave, heading towards the girls' dorms staircases, inevitably about to find your bed empty and wonder where you are at this hour of night.

"She said my name," James breathes, only after the door to your dorm has been safely shut, and she runs no risk of hearing him. He looks incredulously at you, in your tense, rigid stance on the couch cushions, "She didn't call me Potter! She- you're a miracle." James levels you with an intensely grateful stare, thumbing fondly at the knitwear that's itching viciously at your fur, "You're my wingman, Y/N. I mean it, you're putting that sweater on every day, I'll manhandle you into it myself."

You yowl at him, a sound that typically scares him off, but he doesn't yield, grinning impishly at you instead.

"Whatever you say, Mittens."

[russellsppttemplates]

That’s bullshit if I’ve heard of any (Lando Norris)

Lando finally had enough of seeing you hurt like that

Note: english is not my first language. I've been writing this one for a little bit and today felt like the day to finish it ✨️ this also felt close to home, but good to write it out, too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: reader's self-doubt and low self esteem, loneliness, curse words, mentions a bad date with a rude person

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Are you sure you want me to come over?", you asked your best friend over the phone, refusing to accept that he had no better plans for his Friday night now that he was not racing.

"Is this your way of telling me you don't want to come over? Because that's fine, I'll stay in - are you going somewhere though? Like a date?", Lando said over the phoneline.

"Bold of you to assume I would have plans, and with a date nonetheless", you muttered, "all I'm saying is if you have something better to do, you should go do it!", you explained, not wanting to get into the topic too deeply.

"There's nothing better than spending time with my bestfriend! Do you need me to pick you up or do you feel comfortable driving at this time of night?", he wondered, "I'll be there in 10 then", you chatted off, ending the call.

Looking around your room, you found clothes that were both comfortable and presentable in case, with your usual luck, you were pulled over by the police and had to come out of your car.

Lando finally had some time off before the season began and he wanted to spend it with you. While you were usually able to fly out to most of the European races and even travel the long distance to other race tracks, this season you had more responsibilities to juggle between your internship, your studies and your family.

He arranged the pillows on the sofa and brought out your favourite snacks, getting his place ready while occupying the time until you rang his doorbell, walking up to the door so he could let you inside, "hey!", he greeted, excited to finally have you with him after weeks where you both had been busy.

"Hey", you said, nudging his hip slightly with yours as you went to the shoe cabinet, leaving your shoes there and putting on your slippers you kept at his house.

Following him silently to the living room, you watched him sit down as you took in the comfort his place made you feel.

"You're not okay", Lando stated, "I noticed when we were on the phone".

"So this is a pity visit?", you wondered, "That's why you called me over?", you grumbled, feeling the blush erupt on your cheeks along with a little annoyance.

"I never said that! I, I called you and then noticed you weren't okay! Scoot, scoot, I got a tray full of goodies for us to eat", Lando urged, pushing the blanket to the side so you could get in the warm cocoon he created with the soft fabric along with pillows in various shapes and sizes you had insisted he needed to make the place feel more home-y.

"Are you going to talk about what's on your mind or do you want to watch this new show in silence?", he wondered, pointing the remote at the TV.

"I don't want to talk about it, not now anyway", you grumbled, finding your perfect position as you laid against your bestfriend, his arm going around your shoulders as you snuggled your legs under the blanket.

The new show ended up involving a romantic couple which only heightened your feelings. Lately, it was all you could see. Everyone around you seemed to have something romantic going on and they were happy with it. One of your friends was even convinced that she would be proposed to within the next few months, and you were single. Soon enough after you entered these thoughts, they pulled you to questions like why won't people love me? why am I single? what is it that doesn't attract people to me? and the one that you had yet to find a proper answer to, the list becoming too long for your own good am I unlovable?

"Can we watch something else, please?", you asked after debating for a few minutes wether or not you should interrupt, "I'm sorry, but I'm not enjoying it that much", you mumbled.

"That's okay, Y/N, I'll just put on one of our reruns", he smiled, changing the streaming platform and looking for the square on the screen, "if you want to just lay here, that's fine, too", he encouraged.

"At least I'm not alone with my thoughts", you mumbled again, looking at the ceiling as Lando moved his neck to join you, "I'm not sure what you mean, but I'm here for you anyway", he squeezed your hand that found its way to his own.

"It's just, - I've been reflecting? I don't even know if that's the word, but I've been feeling lonely", you blurted, still unsure if you were voicing all of it.

Lando hummed, urging you to continue, "like, I'm craving to have somebody there for me, someone who I know is in my corner, who I feel totally comfortable with. My brother was telling me all about the stuffed bunny his girlfriend asked him to take care off! I want that with someone", you pouted.

Lando tensed, rearranging his position on the sofa to look at you softly as you kept looking at his white ceiling.

"Maybe I should be less opinionated, less vocal about what I think and feel", you mused.

You'd lose your essence, Lando thought as he heard you rant on and on about the traits you wanted to change about yourself.

"Changing something physical is harder, but maybe I can change that, right? Be a bit quieter with what I say, measure my opinions, say yes and agree with things more", you shrugged, shaking the whole thing off of your body, wanting to rid yourself of the thought, "I can't, I won't be able to do that, they'd notice it straight away", you sighed.

As the night went on, Lando quickly changing the subject, you spoke about anything that came to mind until you looked at your watch, "Fuck, it's so late, I have to go", you stood up quickly, bending to pick your slippers up from the floor when he stopped you, "stay in the guest bedroom for tonight. Sleep here", he tried.

"Is it because I said I was lonely? I was just venting it out, you don't need to worry about me being a loner", you tried your best to assure it.

"No, you muppet. I'm doing it because I don't like the idea of you having to drive all the way back at this time of night", he reasoned, getting up himself and walking with you to the guest bedroom.

"Is this still made from the last time I was here?", you wondered, looking at the sheets.

"I made it before you came here! And I've washed the sheets, thank you very much. You have a fresh bed to sleep on", he smiled charmingly.

"Thanks", you smiled back, grabbing the clothes you usually wore to sleep when you stayed over from the drawer, "those have been washed, too", he pointed, "if you need anything, I'm in my usual spot", he winked, "Good night, Y/N, sleep tight!".

"Thanks for this", you gestured, "Good night, Lando", you said before he saluted you playfully, closing the door behind him.

Using the ensuite for your night routine, you changed into the shorts and Lando's t-shirt, noticing that all of the washes had made it smell less of his cologne and more of the scented fabric softener he uses.

The t-shirt fit snug against your hips, embracing your curvy body as you got under the sheets, letting the weight of them lull you to sleep and slow down your thoughts.

.

Lando was driving to a restaurant he knew well enough. He had had a few dates there before, one team dinner and a few family birthdays too whenever they were in town.

But right now, he was picking you up. From a date that apparently wasn't going well since he got a text from you asking him to pick you up.

"Hey, gorgeous girl", he said once he opened the car window as he parked in front of the restaurant, thankful that it wasn't too busy and no one seemed to notice or care that he was there.

"Thanks for picking me up", you mumbled as you sat down, pulling on your seatbelt and nothing your bestfriend's gaze on you, silently questioning you.

"He was an asshole", you explained, "kept asking me if I was sure of what I was doing, if I knew any Formula One drivers - don't worry, didn't out anything - and then he just kept being rude to me, to the waiter, who was wonderful by the way".

"I didn't mean him. I don't care about him, I care about you", Lando said, driving back to his place, assuming you'd want to have someone close by that wouldn't ask too many questions.

"It was just another one where it didn't go well", you mumbled, letting your head rest on the window and looking out at the lights illuminating the city.

"Do you want to go to my place?", Lando asked, knowing you wouldn't want to be pushed about the subject, "yes, please", you said.

As soon as you got inside his place, you took your shoes off, walking up to the spare bedroom to leave your bag in there, "thank you for picking me up, you're the best, Lando", you smiled as you rested against the door frame.

"No worries, okay? Sleep tight, I have good plans for tomorrow so this will be out of your mind", he smiled a small one.

"Night night, Lando", you said back, closing the door behind you and letting the tears finally fall.

It was horrible. The way he treated other people should have been the first clue and red flag, but somehow it still surprised you how he conducted the whole date. You weren't expecting a prince or a gentleman, but you expected human decency and it turns out you were not afforded that. He kept leaving snarky comments about his exes. He was rude, sexist and definitely not your type, and after splitting the bill, you informed him that someone would come to pick you up.

Could someone be unlovable? Not worthy of love to the point where anyone they attracted to their presence just wasn't a match and they had to be content with the bare minimum?

Splashing some water on your face and wiping it with the towel, you took one good look in the mirror. It looks like it's going to be you for a while, so you might as well get used to it, Y/N.

.

When morning rolled around, Lando was the first to wake up, getting ready and heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the two of you. He wanted to make something special, because even though you had your tough shell on yesterday, he knew you were feeling it deeply and painfully.

This quest of yours was doing you more harm than good. And it wasn't helping him either. For a few years, Lando figured, he has loved you. At first, it wasn't a clear sentiment. You were best friends, obviously there was a deeper connection. But then it felt so much all the time, there was never a break for the butterflies on his stomach or for the jealous green eyed monster whenever you so much as mentioned anyone else. He wouldn't dare say it, but he's so glad your date last night sucked.

As he prepared your coffee, your footsteps approached, "Good morning", you croaked out. You looked like you hadn't slept well, which Lando figured was a given considering the heard you move a lot during the night.

"Good morning, I made this for you. The balcony had nice sunlight right now, I figured you'd enjoy breakfast there", he attempted, bringing a small smile to your lips as you thanked him for the mug, "I'll bring the rest shortly", he called.

As you looked out to the always busy streets, you took in their quickness and rush. How it was all fleeting and momentary.

Lando placed the tray on the table, arranging it so you both could reach everything.

"I heard you crying last night", he began, his fist clenched at the memory as he sat down.

"I'm fine", you shrugged.

"I don't think you are, and I don't want you to suffer, Y/N", he insisted, unusually bold considering he knew which territory he was stepping into.

"It's not easy to come to terms with the fact that I'm single and that it might look like that for a bit, and who even knows how long that 'bit' might actually be", you chuckled, looking at him expecting his understanding gaze but being face with furrowed brows instead along with a scoff. "What? It's not like I'm being unreasonable, I'm just stating the facts", you squinted.

"That's not how it works, and you know that Y/N", he sternly spoke, straightening his back and facing you completely.

It was your time to laugh and scoff a little, "unless something changes within me, I'm sure this is how I'll find myself in the foreseeable", you shock your head.

"All of those things you want to change about yourself? Or that you say you should change to make you more likeable and lovable? That's dimming your light and your spark", Lando bit back, having had enough of it, "if someone loved you after all of those changes, they wouldn't love you for who you are, they would love a fabricated version of you. You're not unlovable", he smiled at the irony of it all. How after all these years, he still hadn't plucked up the courage to tell you how he felt about you.

"How can you say that when you have everyone falling at your feet? Women see you and they're ready to have anything you'll give them! You don't have to change who you are because someone made you feel like you couldn't be loved because of who you are and what you do!", you bit back, sensing a tone in him that was unusual and certainly not comfortable.

“I just need to know who the fuck told you you don’t deserve to be loved, because I’m about to beat their asses up", Lando called, elbows supported on the chair's arms as he looked at you.

"No one's ever told me, I'm probably the one saying it to myself, the rest of the people just make me feel like I'm unlovable, so if you want to hit me, I would prefer you didn't, I bruise quite easily", you tried to joke, not wanting to let your mind wander to the parallel utopian reality where your bestfriend feels the same way about you.

"Then it's all the people that made you feel unloved", Lando said, "none of them deserved a second of your attention, but I can give them a second of mine just for that".

“That’s a lot of people you’re gonna have to beat up, then, and I’m not sure if I want to bail you out of jail for that. We can't all have full bank accounts like yours", you joked again, watching him as he kept on with the subject.

"Stop joking about this! I'm being serious with you, Y/N! You deserve all of the love in the world - and even that wouldn't be enough!", he got up.

“Please, I think we have both realised and reached the conclusion that maybe I’m just not meant to be loved", you added.

“That’s bullshit if I’ve heard of any! No one’s not meant to be loved. There’s someone out there for you, and I think I’ve made it clear that, if it’s really not anyone else, then that someone’s me”, he stopped in front of you. There it was. Out in the open for everyone to hear. His balcony was covered and closed, something he was grateful about as he confessed his love for you.

"You can't joke about this", it was your turn to mention it, getting up as he took your hand in his.

"I'm not, Y/N, I'm really not", he whispered, resting his forehead in yours.

"Kiss me", you pleaded. He was quick to comply to your request, hand cupping your cheek as he tasted the bitter coffee from your lips and felt you unravel to him in a way he didn't think was possible anymore.

"I have loved you for so long, Lando", you whispered once you pulled away for air, "and I couldn't imagine a world where anyone would love me back, let alone you", you admitted, looking into his beautiful orbs.

"You don't have to make any effort to imagine it anymore, baby. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. You're so loved and I'll be damned if I don't show you how much everyday of our lives", he smiled, kissing your lips again as your hands travelled to his messy curls.

[djemsostylist]

The thing I love most about the Warhammer 40k Space Marine game, starring one Captain Titus of the Ultramarines, is that it explains NOTHING. AT ALL. This game goes "well you wouldn't be playing me if you didn't know what Warhammer was, right?" and they would probably be mostly correct except that no, actually, I didn't even know what a space marine was when I first played, way way back in the early 20teens.

The game dumps you into a world where you play as a Captain of the Ultramarines. What is an Ultramarine, you ask? Why it's Captain Titus of course! and Leandros and Sergeant Sidonus. Are there more of them? Maybe, who knows! What's a Blood Raven? It looks like you, but different colors, and there are also only 4 of them. Are all of the space marines just squads of 4? Did you used to have a fourth and he died? Are you an army or a strike force? Who knows! The game for sure isn't gonna tell you!

What's an "inquisitor?" Well, it's Drogan of course! The one you have you save! And he's a psyker see. (What's a psyker, you ask? Well, it's what the Inquisitor is! Is it the same thing? NO IDEA! Just keep killing!) Now, is he also a space marine? Hard to say! Are space marines big, or just people in like, really big armor? WHO KNOWS! Not you, now kill some orks! Why are we killing orks? Because that's your mission of course!

And oh, hey, you're on a Forge World, fighting through the factories of the mechnanicum. What are these things? Well, you're on them and in them, what else do you NEED to know?

My favorite bit is when the Forces of Chaos show up, and a demon rips his way out of the fabric of reality, and it's just like "oh yeah, did we forget to mention you might have to fight demons? OOPS! Well, they pop as delightfully as an ork, so hop to it!" and then they just give you a different sort of Really Big Gun you can use to get on with the killing. Leandros seems concerned, the Inquisitor and Sidonus don't (and who outranks who? The regular men and women call you "Lord" but you call the Inquisitor "Lord" and all of you seem beholden to a "God-Emperor" (and is he an emperor or a God, or something of both?) but the only thing that matters is whether you chose a Plasma Rifle or a Lascanon to get through this next round, so who are you to question anything?

When the Inquisitor tells you to "meet at the monument" you just do, even though the monument is a nondescript hooded figure that says nothing and means little (except that these people do have monuments to something, and is it a saint? a martyr?) and so you go there anyway because there are more greenskins coming and you are about to get a thunderhammer (and maybe a jumppack, though those never last long.)

There are skulls sort of everywhere and everything looks like some sort of outsized Gothic cathedral and the voice that drones on and on sounds British and clipped and the words she says are dystopian and strange but there are always more orks to kill (and demons and men who look like you but aren't you, and are they really men behind those masks anymore, spilling from yawning purple clouds and splattering the walls with blood before vanishing i a lingering miasma) so you just keep going.

At one point a man who is not a man offers you the chance to become a god, to become a creature of whatever form you wish, and you still aren't entirely sure what the ultramarines are (and who is Lord Guilliman and his tenants your battle brother holds so dear) but there is a certainty in your refusal, a rigid belief that you won't fall because you can't fall (and did the man who is not a man who offers you a godhood fall? or has he always been like this?) but you deny him anyway (because you can, because you must, because you are an Ultramarine or because you believe in something more?) and you fight and fight and fight and kill and kill and kill and kill and kill and bleed until perhaps there is no blood left (your armor is huge and cumbersome and the floor shakes when you land but you move with grace and speed and roll and dodge and kill and live and what are you even, really?) and in the end you have saved a world and when you say "More than you know" you mean it with your whole heart because you are human, you are, you bleed, and you tire, and you grieve and you mourn (but are you human, really? if you can touch the darkness and not give in, not turn aside, if men call you angels and demons speak of gods) and it all means nothing because men you are you but not you show up, men in black and white (they look like Holy Orders, Hospitallers or something close) and a man who is an Inquisitor who is not Drogan, who speaks softly but firmly and they take you away and Leandros looks on with fear and maybe regret (and you do it to save Mira, you think, her and all the others you died a thousand times to save except you lived, and she lived, and they call you Angels and if you can't die maybe it's true, or perhaps you love them, all of them, the men and women who look at you with awe and fear and love, and isn't that being an Angel, in the end?)

Anyway, I've played this game thrice through (easy, medium, hard) and read all the codex and I still, to this day, do not know what happens at the Siege of Terra and what happens to make 30k 40k, and I think that's really sort of beautiful, in the end.

[shotmrmiller]

@magicislikelove said pathetic!simon with single mom reader.

pathetic!simon sees you the first time when you move in, dragging a heavy box through to your door, and he is enthralled.

he also doesn't move to help you because the grunts that escape your lips from the effort set his loins ablaze.

your flushed skin glistening with sweat— a rosy hue across your face, perspiration dripping from your temple down to your chin, where it collects like dew drops. (he wonders if you taste like brine, or sweet like golden wheat)

the swell of your soft hips peeking from under your damp shirt that rides up whenever you bend down to get a good grip on the edges of the cardboard box. (he wishes those dainty fingers would caress his scarred back, leaving trails of red in their wake)

every noise that spills from your bow-shaped lips the color of petals sends a lick of pleasure up his spine, white-hot and agonizing. (what he wouldn't do for you to spit into his mouth, or maybe just on him altogether and make him clean it up)

he watches you raise your arms to pull your sweaty hair away from your face with delicate hands— slender, fragile wrists twisting it into a makeshift sloppy bun. (would you tug on his hair like that? would you pull until you felt the cropped strands pop from his scalp?)

and then you look up and notice him standing in the hallway, right by his front door. your eyes lock onto his, and he feels the oxygen in his lungs being siphoned away.

"uh, hi."

his breath lodges in his throat, or maybe it's spit because he's spinning on the balls of his feet, his back to you as he barks out dry coughs until he can breathe again.

"are... are you alright?" the slight worry in your voice has his cock twitching.

he'd be better if he could use that shirt you're currently wearing as a mask— the wet spots right over his crooked nose.

"yes. sorry. i'm a little ill," he hoarsely utters before turning back around to face you. "it's just a mild cough, so i can help ya with tha', if ya like." his head tips toward the box he's been watching you fight with for the past half-hour.

"i'd, i mean, yeah...okay." he doesn't care that you sounded almost coerced, simon moves with the speed he uses in the field, and is by your side in seconds, hoisting up the box wordlessly.

he stares at you, waiting for you to turn around and invite him into your home.

"uhm, right this way," you push open the door quietly, and point at the kitchen floor. "there please."

simon does as you say, (like a good boy, he thinks, won't you let him be your good boy?) when he hears a child's cries come from behind a closed door.

"ah, duty calls. i really do appreciate you helping me," you give him a small grin. "i'll see you around, yeah?"

simon slowly nods at you before turning to leave, opening your front door when he notices that you've begun to walk toward your wailing offspring. (he didn't see a ring on your finger)

he discreetly swipes the scented plug-in (just a touch too hot in his roughened palm) by the door and heads toward his own flat.

simon doesn't even fully undress, just hastily undoes the button of his jeans and lets them drop mid-thigh before he slams his back on the living room wall and begins to unscrew the plug-in.

the slick, hot, aromatic oil pulls a sibilant hiss from his thin, chapped lips as it touches the sensitive skin of his meaty cock and lathers himself in it with a couple of experimental strokes.

he squeezes the base of it, encircling it with his large hand, so tight it hurts.

that's what you'd feel like around him.

simon grips himself and starts to fuck his fist— choppy, desperate thrusts that has his toes curling in his muddy, creased boots.

his hand is calloused, just on the edge of too rough, but it doesn't stop him from imagining it's you that's on his cock, bouncing on it with fervor.

his nostrils sting with the overwhelming smell of the oil even through the thick fabric of his mask— a heady mix of lavender and vanilla— and it makes his head spin.

the web space between his thumb and pointer drags along his frenulum, and white spots dance behind his eyelids. sweat beads his brow as he gets closer to his end, the ecstasy coursing through his veins threatening to consume him whole.

simon replays the sounds you made earlier in his head, and for once, it drowns out the usual low ringing in his ears, intensifying his arousal.

he's pumping himself roughly now, fast and jerky as he rears his peak.

would you let him come inside of you? paint your silken walls with his unworthy spend?

when he thinks of you trying to hook your ankles at the base of his spine to keep him deep inside of you as he tries to weakly pull out is what breaks him.

his cock spasms as thick spurts of warm cum dribble all over his scarred knuckles and pants.

simon's hand is slippery as he continues to pump his softening length, and squeezes right under his flared head, the remnants of his pleasure beading at the tip.

his gait is awkward, and stiff as he waddles toward the kitchen with his trousers still by his wide, hairy thighs— plugging in the wall scent on his way there.

unbeknownst to him, he was giving you that kubrick stare and it made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

you also thanked the stars that he wasn't a serial killer.

[roadkillremi]

Kinktober

2 out of 11

Overstimulation

Ghost face X Reader

MasterList. Kinktober

Summary : Ghostface using you <3. Any male Ghostface from series or just Ghostface. No specific setting in time (1996-2022) characters are 18+

Warning : Minors DNI, mentions friends teasing reader, death threat, knife, language, overstimulating, p in V, oral (f receiving)

You laid on your stomach doing homework on your bed. You hummed along to whatever song was playing on the radio. You sat up closing your binder from school, you got up walking to your desk.

Ring ring

The landline echoed throughout your house. You hopped up walking to the phone.

"L/N residence how can I help you?" You put the phone on your shoulder as you walked to the fridge.

"Uh, who is this?" A deep voice rasped. You laughed softly, "You tell me! You're the one who called.". He chuckled, "That's true.. so what are you doing?".

"Getting a snack. I have loads of homework." You complained. He sighed deeply, "You never told me your name..".

"I don't give out my name to creepy guys on phones." You snapped back. He went silent, "You think I'm creepy?".

"I don't know you tell me." You pulled out a drink from the fridge and closed it with your hip. You walked over to the table placing your drink down.

Thud

You looked down the hall, "Still there?" The voice cooed. You swallowed, "Yeah. Sorry. Listen imma have to go im busy... I'm really sorry but I can give you another number to call." You offered.

"Wait.. no I was just getting to know you." He whined. You sighed, "well maybe if I bump into you around town you can say hey.". You hung up placing the phone back in the receiver. You grabbed your drink walking over to your room. You turned on your radio on your dresser. You began to dance slightly to the music. You placed your binder in your bookbag and pulled out a text book. You hummed and swayed your body to the song.

Ring

You sighed before looking down the dark hallway. You sped walked towards the phone picking it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Why'd you call me back?" You huffed.

"I got lonely.". You walked towards your room, "Well, I'm busy.".

"Come on just talk to me." He pleaded. You rolled your eyes, "No, I have stuff to do.".

"Yeah like dancing?" He spat. You widen your eyes and froze.

"What?" You glanced around the room.

"You heard me." He teased. You bit your lip, "This isn't funny.. Nicole if this is you-"

"It's not Nicole!" He fussed. You gripped onto the phone panicking.

"Don't worry I won't hurt you ..." he cooed. Your chest burned as you panicked more.

"Don't worry..." he continued to coo at you. The phone hung up, you heard heavy steps from the hall. You backed up towards your window. A decently buff figure stood in the doorway. You breathed heavily, when you blinked tears fell. He stepped closer to you, "Please don't kill me..".

He stopped tilting his head, you looked up at him. He stepped closer causing your back to hit the wall. His pointed his knife towards your chest.

"Please don't... I never did anything wrong! I never even had a boyfriend. I come home to curfew on time! If anything I'm the most boring person to kill.." you trailed off.

"Never had a boyfriend?.." he gently spoke. His voice box covered his actual voice. You nodded feeling a bit embarrassed.

"yeah." You panicked

"We can change that." He grabbed your arm forcing you on to the bed. You sat up staring at his mask. He held the knife up to your chin.

"Die.. or let me have you" he whispered. You stared into the black eyes of the mask. You took a Shakey breath, maybe your friends wouldn't make fun of you if you lost your virginity.

"You.. you can have me.." you whispered.

"good girl" he smiled. He quickly slid your shorts off, he chuckled looking at the damp spot. You closed your legs in defense. He forced them back open pressing the knife against your thigh.

"Sorry..." you whispered. He hummed cutting the sides of your underwear. He shoved the fabric in his back pocket under the cloak. His gloved fingers traced your opening barely touching.

"Better not waste time.." he mumbled. He took the cloak off revealing a long black sleeves shirt. He unzipped his jeans quickly taking himself out. He grabbed your hips shoving himself in.

"Fuck!" You yelped. You closed your legs around him. He opened them back up and slammed into you. You winced, "Not.. not used to this..".

"I don't care." He groaned. He let out a low moan holding himself deep inside you. You squirmed not being able to take his length. He held your thighs up as he continued to thrust. One of his hands went to your clit, he pressed his thumb down.

You whined moving into his touch, he grunted pushing your hip down. You whimpered arching your back, "It's too much!". He kept thrusting into you digging his fingers into your thighs. His other fingers punched your clit as he shoved himself into you. You let out a loud moan and gripped your bed.

He pulled out stroking himself, you whined clenching around nothing. You tried to reach for your clit to continue the pleasure. He smacked your hand causing you to yank it away. You huffed watching him stroke himself at a steady pace. He grabbed your hips standing you up. He laid down, "you're gonna do as a I say." He demanded. You nod softly, "Climb up to my chest " he whispered. You crawled on top of him sitting on his chest.

"close your eyes. And I swear if you open them I will end your pathetic life." He growled. You closed your eyes, he shuffled beneath you before pulling your hips.

He placed your core on his mouth, his nose rubbed against your clit. You moaned out moving your hips along his face. You felt the cold blade against your stomach causing you two stop.

His tongue twisted around your hole. His fingers splayed against your thighs. He sucked your clit lightly rubbing his teeth against it. You shivered at the feeling, he let out a soft groan. He forced your hips further down on his face. His tongue darted in and out of you. His nose continuously bumping into your clit. You arched your back as you tried to hold off your movements.

He lifted your hips up and slid his mask back on. You whined flickering your eyes open. His gloved digits entered you as he watched your face relax. He then quickly took it out hearing a car beep. He picked you up off of him and got up.

"what?" You sat up confused.

"Gotta go.."

"but I didn't even come!" You complained. He looked back at you, "Maybe I'll come back...".

"Oh..." you stood up. He put himself back together as if nothing happened. He opened the window and looked back at you.

"close your eyes." He whispered. You closed your eyes as he said. You waited patiently for anything, you worried he was going to stab you. Instead a soft pair of lips pressed against yours. You gently touched his forearm leaning into it. He backed away going out your window.

All Male Ghostfaces :

Tag list -

@hurlonsororitygirls @sanzumylovee @katie-tibo @horneybeach1

[unclewaynemunson]

CW for body issues and negative thoughts surrounding weight gaining

Cold autumn air has fallen over Hawkins for the first time in months. Steve reaches into the back of his closet to find his favorite sweater, the dark red one that his grandmother made him when he was in his junior year. The wool still feels just as soft in his hands as it was last year.

He pulls it over his head, welcoming the warmth it immediately gives off around him, but it feels tighter than he remembers it being. He pulls and adjusts the fabric, then gives himself a critical look in the mirror, and - fuck. It must've shrunk somehow. He messed up his favorite sweater.

But... The last time he wore it, on that one cold night at the end of April, it still fit him perfectly. He remembers that night clearly: they were all sitting around a campfire in the trailer park for Wayne's birthday, and Eddie had kept looking at him like that sweater was causing all kinds of unholy thoughts - partly the reason why it's Steve's favorite.

The sweater can't possibly have shrunk lying unused in the back of his closet for months. It didn't shrink; Steve has grown.

Suddenly, he looks at himself in the mirror and sees a whole other person. He zeroes in on all kinds of details he had never paid much attention to before, and he wonders how he could've ever missed what was happening to him: his expanding belly, the fat that has gathered around his hips, his stretched-out thighs... His upper legs are looking more chubby than muscled now that he stopped swimming regularly, and his sweater is tight around his upper arms and too narrow over his belly, the imprint of his belly button clearly visible in the stretched-out fabric.

He has no idea for how long he has been staring at himself when the bedroom door opens and Eddie comes in, still roughly brushing a towel over his wet hair. He's wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. Again, Steve wonders how he could ever have missed the way his body changed, especially next to Eddie: Eddie, who has always been lean, on the verge of being scrawny, his ribs almost visible underneath his tattooed skin and not a single curve in sight.

Eddie freezes in his tracks when he notices Steve, his eyes hovering over the red sweater. Steve feels caught, exposed under Eddie's gaze. He must be coming to the same conclusion that Steve had reached a minute before: that Steve's best days are behind him. That he's getting fat and that his body will only deteriorate further from now on. That he stopped taking good care of himself. That he's only going to get uglier with age.

'Sorry,' he's quick to say when Eddie won't stop staring. He turns his body away from Eddie's gaze, and starts rummaging around in his closet to find something with a looser fit. 'I didn't realize it wouldn't fit anymore, I'm gonna get changed right away. I suppose the red isn't really your color, but you can have it if you want to, I'm sure it'll fit you perfectly.'

He feels hands grabbing the underside of the sweater from behind.

'No.'

'What?'

He turns around, facing Eddie again, who now fists his hands into the sides of the fabric instead.

'Don't you dare take this off. Only one person is allowed to do that from now on, and that person is me.' There's a look in Eddie's eyes that Steve only recognizes from very different settings, like when he used to get home after a run all sweaty, or when one of them sinks to his knees in front of the other.

'What is happening?' he mumbles under his breath.

'You, in this tight sweater?' Eddie's voice is low and breathy. 'You are a fucking dream, Steve Harrington.'

Steve takes a step backwards, but Eddie's hands stay plastered right where they are.

'Are you making a fool of me?'

Eddie frowns and he finally lets his grip on Steve's sweater go.

'Why would you think that?'

Steve huffs, needlessly gestures to his own body. 'I look ridiculous!' he points out, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. 'It doesn't fit anymore, I let myself get fat, I'm getting old and ugly, I–'

With one step, Eddie is right in front of Steve again, shutting him up by placing his index finger against Steve's lips.

'Not another word,' he says. 'I don't want to hear you talk like that about yourself ever again. You got it all wrong, you know. I mean, don't get me wrong, you were already hella sexy in your jock days, but your soft pillow belly is, like, the closest one can get to heaven here on earth.'

It should be too much, it should sound insincere because of how dramatic it is - but Steve is used to Eddie's dramatics and he can see that Eddie is being one hundred percent serious right now.

'You are the sexiest man I know, and every pound you've gained is a beautiful one. You are gorgeous, Steve – and you will keep being gorgeous and sexy in every shape you'll get.' His hands are roaming over Steve's sweater again, comforting and hungry at the same time. 'I do have to ask you not to wear this sweater outside of our house, though. It'll cause riots. People might die because of it.'

He looks dead serious saying it, and Steve can't help but laugh before he tugs Eddie closer and presses their lips together.

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird and The Leased Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 3 ✿:+ Tear Drop

pervious chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem reader, oral sex (fem rec), mutual masturbation, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, alcohol consumption, mention of death, mention of arranged marriage.

Word Count: 4826

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

The morning after your last encounter with the Hound in the stables you were woken up by two handmaidens. They dressed you in a gown Cersei had made for you, it was red and gold, embellished with intricate beaded flowers. No matter how many times you asked they wouldn’t tell you why you were being summoned by Cersei. 

Your paranoia grew as you walked down the halls. You were more paranoid than ever nowadays.

As you walked into Cersei's chambers, her handmaidens closed the doors behind you. 

“Hello, little dove.” She said standing on her balcony. You walked towards her, your hands fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. 

“Your grace, thank you for the gown, it is beautiful.” You tried your best to seem relaxed.

“Ah yes, red and gold. Those colors suit you well. That’s good, they will need to.” She said, stepping towards you, playing with a strand of your hair. 

“Your grace?” You asked, 

“Tell me, have you met my brother?” She asked softly and gently. 

“Which-” 

“Tyrion, Tyrion Lannister, have you met him?” She cut you off, dropping the piece of hair she played with and sounding suddenly sterner. 

“Only passing pleasantries and exchanges, your grace.” You felt your heart race, your palms sweat. 

“What do you think of him?” she narrowed her eyes “He has quite a reputation, and his physical appearance does not help it-”

“He’s been nothing but decent to my family and myself, your grace.” You interrupted hoping she would get to the point faster.

“Good, good. That’ll make things easier.” She forced a sympathetic smile. 

“Your grace,” Your eyes fluttered. your voice wavered, and your heart raced faster. 

“You have been matched. It is the King's will, and you two shall be wed.” She pet your hair softly. 

Your throat went dry and you could help but look taken aback. 

“I don’t understand,” Your voice cracked and you took a step back. 

“You’ll get used to it.” She nodded, “My brother and I don’t have the best relationship but he is gentle with women. He will serve as a good husband. He will give you a child, that’s the best thing a man can give you. Perhaps we can negotiate with Baelish to keep your titles now that he’s betrothed to your mother.” 

You didn’t care to correct her that she was your step mother. You stood there with your eyes wide, you didn’t know what to say. You’d found out two devastating truths in one moment. You’d possibly no longer inherit your fathers titles, and you’d be forced into the family that killed your own. 

“Don’t you think?” Cersei asserted trying to gain your attention again not so subtly. 

“Yes, yes Your Grace.” You faked a smile. 

These people killed your uncle no less than a week ago, you had no choice but to accept. It wasn’t even framed as an option. They only wanted to calm you and make you agreeable, so you gave it to them. You didn’t have options. 

You did what Sandor would have told you to do. You agreed, and smiled. You gave them what they wanted.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

Your chambers were small in comparison to Cersei’s. It was a constant reminder that you were not home. The sheets were red with golden lions and flowers embroidered into them. The walls are adorned with golden decorations. It was beautiful but nothing like your home, nothing like your room. You couldn’t imagine it, “(Y/N) Lannister '' it didn’t seem right. You are a girl of the vale in the lion's den. 

The prospect of marriage became very real, and very near. Tyrion was the best of them, there was no doubt in that fact. However you didn’t even accept Loras’s proposal so why would you accept Tyrion's. But it would seem, you'd have no choice now, neither did Tyrion. 

You thought of him every day, and every night. You would find yourself awake at such late hours they weren’t late anymore they were early. You’d dream of his hands, his broad shoulders, his sad eyes framed by a scowling face. You’d feel yourself pulse and you’d be forced to relieve yourself on your pillows or sometimes your hand to feel any kind of relief. You’d wonder if he had done the same,  never knowing but he had. As you found yourself beginning to feel that same pressure in between your legs there was a knock upon your door. 

“Who is it?” You beckoned, you were more paranoid than ever nowadays, Cersei’s speech just hours before your uncles execution didn't help.

“Your betrothed it would seem.” Tyrion beckoned back. You rolled your eyes and sighed, slightly hoping for Sandor, and not whatever awkward conversation was about to be held. 

As you opened the door you gave a half hearted smile, “My Lord.” You greeted me. 

He scrunched up his face and waved his hand in dismissal “No need for that, Tyrion is fine, my lady.” He smiled. 

“Then enough ‘my lady’, (Y/N) is fine.” You said smiling back, this time more genuine, “Is there something I can help you with, my-” You stopped yourself and corrected “Tyrion.” 

“I hoped we could discuss our arrangement.”  He said as if he felt guilty. His eyes were kind, soft and gentle. 

You nodded in agreement, however you didn’t know what much else was to be said. You began to step into the hall when he held his hand out to you. You were caught somewhat off guard by such a gentle act, you flinched, and it didn’t go unnoticed. You did however take his hand. 

He led you to a secluded chamber. There were books strone about, this is the same room where you had stolen the first book of his. As you sat as he poured himself a goblet of wine, he motioned if you’d want some and you shook your head. 

“This is awkward,” He said with a forced smile as he sat with his goblet. 

“For you, I’d imagine so.” You said with a huff as you crossed your legs and your arms, 

“It isn’t for you? Speaking to the man you are being forced to marry?” He said with a chuckle. 

“Awkward or not, given what I have endured here, speaking with you is the least painful thing that has afflicted me.” 

“I shall take that as a compliment.” He said with a furrowed brow. He made you crack a slight smile. 

“Is there something you wished to discuss?” You asked shifting in your seat uncomfortably waiting for him to get to the point. 

“Ah” He said as he placed his goblet down, his brain snapping back to the original intent of this meeting. “Well, my Lady-”

“(Y/N)” You corrected unapologetically, 

“(Y/N)” He smiled softly, “We are to be wed.” You nodded, in agreement, your face however was still stoic. “I want you to know, I did not want this.” “Well” You inhaled sharply “I did not either. Though I hope I did not disappoint you.” You said with that signature venom in your eyes. You knew in a way that he didn’t mean it in that way, but you never passed up an opportunity to show that you weren’t one to shy from confrontation. 

“I did not- You did not.” He stammered and stopped himself. He looked down collecting his thoughts, “I am not disappointed in you. But I believe someone you love should take your hand.” He said with a half hearted smile. 

“May I ask you something?” You asked shifting in your seat to lean closer to him. “My father, Lord Arryn. When he brought me here, he brought me here with the intention of marrying me off. My father was not one to go into anything blind. I know he had discussed it, I know he had certain men in mind. Tell me who those men were.” 

“You don’t believe he picked me?” He chuckled before seeing your still serious face and continuing, “Your father did consider Ser Loras Tyrell, Renly Baratheon, before his marriage of course. I am sure those would have good matches, though I do believe you might be missing some of those men's favorite parts.” You wanted to laugh but didn’t want to lighten the situation, so you settled for a smirk as you looked away hiding your amusement. “Your father did not want you to wed Joffrey.” His joking tone diminished “Baelish requested consideration, which was denied. Your father clearly cared for your honor.” Your eyes went back to him. You thought of it, Baelish requesting your hand? It seemed strange as you never met the man. “I am sure there were many others who requested your hand.”,  He smiled softly. 

“But not you?” You grinned

“I would not have embarrassed either of us like that,” He said, sipping from his goblet.

“Embarrassed?” “I would not embarrass you by being wed to a dwarf, and I’d not embarrass myself by being rejected by both you and your father.”

“Peytr Baelish didn’t seem to mind.” You jested, and he cracked a smile. “I don’t care about your height.” You scoffed, “You’ve been nothing but decent towards me and my family.” 

“But if I proposed you wouldn’t have accepted.” “No I wouldn’t have.” He nodded “But that’s not because of your height. Or even your reputation. It’s because I don’t know you. Other than the few books of yours I have stolen and the passing exchanges between you, my family, and myself I do not know you.”

“Well we’ve all the time we need to know each other now.” He smirked, “You’ve stolen my books?” 

“Four, maybe five.” You responded quickly “Things get awfully dull around here.” 

“I suppose they will be our books soon enough.” He tried to jest, “I think I know something about you now. You’re honest, opinionated-” You stopped him

“The king does not like those traits of mine, it would seem.” You said slightly smiling.

“No doubt why he created his engagement... What my nephew has done to your cousin,” He stopped himself and looked at your lip, still slightly bruised from Joffrey’s Name Day. “What he has done to you… it is-” He stammered, unable to find an appropriate word for it, “deplorable.” 

“I suppose he will be my nephew as well, soon enough.” You attempted to jest, 

“(Y/N),” he said leaning forward, grasping your hand lightly “I promise you- I swear to you, no harm shall come to you.” 

“You cannot promise that,”

“I suppose I can’t.” he said looking at your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb, “I can promise that I will never harm you. I will do all I can to make you happy.” 

You felt your eyes beginning to dissect his words as your brows furrowed in concern. You forced a smile to ease his mind. You placed your hand atop of his that was holding yours. You were genuinely appreciative of his gentleness and his kind words. You should be happy, he was handsome enough. But it was times like this, when another man's hand was on yours when you felt disappointment burrowing in your chest, how you wished it was another man, how you wished it was your man. 

“I can assign a handmaiden to be with you at all times when I cannot, they’ll make sure you and Joffrey are far apart-”

“I don’t need a shadow, I can take care of myself” You removed your hand sitting back in your chair.

“I say you can,” He smiled, “I do have something for you, I thought, it might soften the blow.” He said as he sat up and retrieved a silver necklace from his coat pocket. It was a dainty chain that held a silver falconed winged woman who held a large natural pearl. What made it stand out to you even more was a blue sapphire teardrop that came from her eye.

“Valyrian steel.” He said, your eyes went wide as you looked at him, how generous, too generous. “Falcon wings, and blue sapphire for your house.” 

“I cannot take that,” You said,

“Hm,” He looked at the necklace in his hand, “Well I cannot wear it.” He grinned holding it out to you again. 

You sighed and took it, you smiled at him, “I look forward to getting to know you, Tyrion.” 

You actually did.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

After such a long talk with your future husband and the idea of becoming a Lannister made your body run a cold sweat. You ran a bath with lavender to calm yourself but it hardly worked. 

As you stood in your chambers, in your white nightgown and soaking wet hair, you looked around at the red and golden interior. The room is adorned with lions and flower embellishments. It was as if they were intentionally rubbing the fact you were misplaced in your face. 

You looked for something to ground yourself, you grabbed the necklace that Tyrion gave to you.

You felt the Valyrian steel necklace in your palm. The cold of the metal reminded you of the cold breeze that would rush through the halls of the Eyrie. But then, it reminded you of something else. The metal of chainmail, the metal of armor.

You longed for so much nowadays. 

You longed for your mother, father, your brother whom you’d only spent an hour of life with, your room, your birds. All were gone, but you remained.

You did long for one other thing though, one thing that was in reach but still so far. That made it worse, that it was so close and yet you were unable to take it. Your longing for your mothers comfort was easier to accept because it was so unattainable but this, this was so close it made you sick. 

Then that sound that becoming too familiar, 

Knock, knock, knock, ‘Gods” you thought, wishing everyone would finally leave you alone. You were certain it was some handmaiden that Tyrion promised you. A doting husband he was shaping up to be, how awful. 

“Go away.” You beckoned, as you dropped the necklace onto your nightstand. 

BAM BAM BAM BAM, the knocks were now banging at your door. You jumped, clutching the thin fabric of your nightgown.

You approached the door slowly, “Who is it,” you asked much gentler this time. 

“I could bust this door down if I wanted.” He grumbled through the door. You knew that tone all too well, you dreamt of it enough times. 

You relaxed and unlocked the door, opening it just a crack, but he busted his way inside. 

“What're you doing-” You began but were cut off by him slamming the door and making his way to a golden pitcher on a small table on the other side of your room. 

“Don’t ever open your door for anyone who knocks like that.” He grumbled under his breath as he took a long deep swig and promptly spitting it out. “Fuck water.” He hissed “You got no fucking wine in here?”

“Sandor-” You started before he cut you off

“Don't call me that!” He barked at you,

“What should I call you then, Dog?” You snapped back at him.

“And what shall I call you? Lady fucking Lannister?” He said with a fake mocking grin.

“You ignore me for days, and now- now you come into my chambers to let out whatever irrational rage is consuming you on to me?”  You walked up to him, your eyes filled with hurt, “Why? Hm? Why are you in my room?” He didn’t respond and you stepped even closer, “Why Sandor-''

You were cut off by his large arm wrapping around your waist pulling you into his body, hoisting you up just enough you were on your tiptoes. As his other hand cupped your jaw as his scarred lips pressed against yours. 

You ran your hands up his thick arms covered in hard cold metal. 

That burning pressure between your legs began to rise once again once his large hand traveled down your jaw to your chest. You mewled into his lips as his hand traveled towards your clothed breasts. 

He growled into your lips as he said through his teeth “Tell me to go, tell me to get the fuck away from you.” He said in a primal growl as he began to remove his armor.

You shook your head “No,” you painted, your eyes fluttering from the tingling between your legs only grew as his armor fell to the ground. You took in all the scars you could see peeking through his loose tunic.

“Run away from me,” He said in a low rumble as his hands returned to your waist and breast.

“No” You almost moaned as your hands explored his broad shoulders to his thick neck. You pulled yourself up to his neck, peppering it with kisses.

“Stubborn fucking woman” He grumbled as he grabbed you by your thighs, wrapping you around his waist. His mouth traveled from your plush lips to your jaw, then to your neck, your collar bones, and to your chest. Your breathy moans rushed straight to his cock. 

“Put me on the bed.” You commanded softly, he obeys immediately, his lips and tongue not stopping until you were sat on the bed. He laid you there surprisingly gently. 

You sat up onto your knees on the bed. You faced him as he stood at the edge of the end of the bed. Your eyes stayed locked on his as you pulled your nightgown over your head, the soft silk melted off of you as you tossed it onto the floor. His eyes wandered over you, his hand cupped your jaw as he looked down into your eyes 

“You’re beautiful. I’ve waited a very long time to tell you that.” His words were sweet but his tone was dark and deep. Like a dog growling over a bone.

You never liked being called beautiful, but this felt different. You didn’t respond, you took his hand and kissed the palm before you reached your hands up to the ties of his tunic. He pulled it off of him before you could finish. 

Your fingers traced the scars that littered his chest and stomach. You stopped at one on his lower stomach, you licked and kissed it softly. His hand came and brushed the hair on your head, pulling it back forcing you to look at him.

“You don’t want this,” He said, his voice was deep but gentle. 

“This is all I want.” You said as your hand traced down to the ties of his breeches. He grabbed your hand. 

“Have you ever seen a man unclothed before?” He rasped. 

You shook your head, “No. Not like this.” The Eyrie was a cage with a cloak on top of it. You’d seen so little of the world so high up, and the men who worked there never dared defy Lysa. But you’d see paintings and sculptures. 

He began to untie his breeches for you, he practically tore the laces as he pulled himself out. He let out a groan as he was released from his breeches. His cock wasn’t even fully erect yet, still twitching at the sight of your body beneath him. Your lips parted and you tried desperately to conceal your surprise, it was bigger than what you’d seen on a canvas or carved in marble.  

You reached out to take him in your hand but he grabbed your wrist, again, stopping you.

“You’ve never done this before?” He rasped again, 

“Only to myself.” You said softly. 

A deep and dry chuckle left his lips as he stared down at you, “Dirty little bird.” He growled under his breath. “Lay back on the bed.” He rasped “Now.” He commanded in a low growl. As you did he pulled you close by your ankles. 

He leaned down and kissed your lips roughly, groaned at the sensation of his cock touching the soft skin of your thighs. 

Your hand began to trail down his chest to his stomach to his cock, before his hand could stop you once more. You whined into his lips as he pulled away “If you touch me, I won’t be able to stop, I’ll fuck you bloody.” He grumbled into your lips. It didn’t sound bad at all to you. 

“What if I want that?” 

“You don’t. Not really.” 

“Or maybe you don’t want that.”

“I want to mark you up. I want to leave bites and bruises all over you, want everyone to know I did it. I want to fuck you bloody, stretch you over my cock. I want to make you all fucking mine. But, then your lord wouldn’t care that much would he?” He growled.

“Then what do you want with me?” You asked with venom in your eyes. You were annoyed with him and his teasing. You knew he was angry with the situation but you knew the reason he didn’t do it was because it would mean others would know of your infidelity. It would risk your safety. He refused you, because he cared, even if he didn’t want to admit that. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this for too long.” He said as he dropped to his knees. You squirmed a bit, but his large arm wrapped over your thighs and pinned you down. 

His beard tickled you, as he began to lap up your wetness. His tongue circled and tapped against your clit.

You let out a sweet, breathy moan, as you tossed your head back onto the bed you laid on. You grabbed a handful of the hair at the back of his head, It was then when he began to fuck you with his tongue, letting his nose rub against your sensitive needy clit. Once you felt his tongue penetrate you. The loud noises filled the room, mixing with your moans of pleasure.

He lifted his head from between her legs, “Keep your mouth shut,” He was panting and tightening his grip on your thigh. You pushed his head back, “Keep yours open.” you painted,

He went back to ravaging you with his tongue. You covered your mouth to keep yourself from moaning any louder, an effort almost in vain once he sucked on your clit. “Gods- Sandor” You whispered in a moan. You saying his name made him moan into your cunt, the vibration of it made that pressure in you build, about to snap. 

“Sandor” You repeated wanting that same vibration, and you got it, it drove you past the edge and you felt the heat rush out of you. He drank your cum like it was wine. You mewled, as he stood up you saw his cock as hard as stone. 

Your eyes fluttering and weakly trying to sit up you asked him softly “Let me help you.” As you reached out to his cock, but for the third time he grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t” he urged, “I told you, if you touch me, I won’t be able to control myself.” 

You sighed, “But I want you to feel what I did.”

“Lay back” This time his voice softer “Show me how you fuck yourself.” He whispered,

You reached down and played with your clit, a groan left his lips as he took himself in his hand watching you. You watched as his huge thick hand gripped himself and pushed back and forth. He grunted and moaned behind gritted teeth. And you let out sweet mewls watching him, hardly focused on your own pleasure. Picking up his pace he almost collapsed on top of you, his one arm able to hold him up as he leaned over you. 

His grunts were angry and deep. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he fucked himself in his hand, locking eyes with you, no longer looking at you fucking yourself or his hand. It was as if he was pretending his hand was your cunt, pretending he was fucking you the way he wanted to for so long. You moaned his name sweetly which only helped push him further off that cliff. Your eyes fluttering, you held his jaw in your free hand, you pulled him in and kissed his lips gently despite the savage pace he was thrusting into his hand. 

“Sandor” You moaned once more before he finally came undone. “Gods!” He gritted his teeth and groaned as he was harmed. You felt his heat pour onto your stomach.

The two of you planted together. Sandor cupped your face with his rough large hand, looking at you deeply before getting up and finding his tunic. He ripped the sleeve off of it and used it to clean you before he threw it into the fireplace in your chambers. 

You sat up and crawled over the edge of your bed, leaning over and grabbing your silk nightgown. You threw it on as you watched him dressing himself again. Once he finished he looked back to you, the two of you locked eyes for a moment, longer than either of you wanted. Neither of you knew what to say. You stood and approached him.

“I care for you.” You whispered, your eyes softened and you cupped his cheek with your hand. 

He took your hand by the wrist and kissed your palm, “You shouldn’t.” he rasped before leaving you. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

After that night, you couldn’t get your mind off of it. It was nothing you’d ever experienced, it only made your emotions deeper for someone who couldn’t have. And now, you were engaged to someone else. You needed someone to talk to about it. Sansa wouldn’t understand, she was too young, and you clearly couldn’t talk to Tyrion. So against your better judgment you found yourself confiding in Loras.

“You're an imbecile.” He quipped as soon as you told him the event of the past two days. You could hardly blame him, you had wronged him. 

“I know you're upset with me, no doubt you don’t see things the way that I do.” You said stoically.

“No I don’t. No one does, (Y/N).” His voice raised slightly with annoyance. 

“I do, that seems to be what matters.” 

“You could be in High Garden right now, or you could be back in the Vale, in the Eyrie. I would have had men fight for your titles that Baelish stole from under you. I would have the finest things for you. Whatever you wished for I would have done it.” 

“I wished for my cousins to be safe.” You were annoyed by his lack of understanding, “Besides Tyrion seems content to do all those things you mentioned anyways.” That wasn’t the kindest thing for you to say, but you often lose your temper when pushed.

“Is he content to let you bed a king's guard?” Loras retorted quickly and at a higher volume than you’d prefer.

“Keep your voice down.” You commanded in a lower and stern tone.

“Will he be content to have a bastard? Content to raise it as his own? Content to defend you and that bastard, when people begin to notice how little they look alike?” He said with saddened eyes, “I would have been. You were my one friend, my one true friend.” His tone mellowed, defeatedly

“I still am, it needn’t be this way. I should have accepted your proposal, I know, but I-” 

“I know. Your cousin.” He cut you off. He picked a flower in the garden and handed it to you. “You are the most intelligent woman I know. But you are too stubborn and  selfless, if you weren’t you’d be the most powerful woman in the realm I’d wager.” He said with a hint of a grin

“I don’t need any of that. What good has it done anyone? You gain an ounce of power and you gain three enemies.” You said examining the flower he gave you.

“Just, just stay alive, look out for yourself.” He said, defeatedly. He placed a hand on your cheek and walked away.

You sighed, nothing comforting came from it. You didn’t know what to expect but you were disappointed nonetheless. 

You looked back at the flower in your hand, you huffed and tossed it back into the bushes and continued on.

You looked up and saw Joffrey with his guards walking past across the garden. You caught a glimpse of the Hound. His eyes caught yours. But soon you two were ripped from each other's gaze.

You didn’t know what to do now. All you did know is that you had three men who wanted you and three men who could despise you if you took the wrong step. And your mind lingered on one man in particular, one the other three weren’t even concerned with. 

Baelish, and what he wanted with the Vale. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

Note: bark like you want it baby… I told y'all we’d be laying it down. And don’t worry we will be busting it down as well.  Also the actual jewler who created that gorgeous pendent in the banner is miya kumo

[narryffdreaming]

A TOAST TO THE FUTURE — TWO

Summary: Aurora and Harry used to be friends, but life happened and they grew apart. Now, 6 years later, they meet again.

Rating: +18

WARNINGS: The story contains explicit language and mentions a past abusive relationship (mostly the consequences of psychological/emotional abuse). Some chapters also contain explicit sexual content.

PART TWO: 14,9k words Please read: Part two explores a lot of Aurora's irrational thoughts and it shows how much she struggles to be herself after being married to someone who was emotionally abusive to her. From my perspective, it's a really important chapter to develop the relationship between Aurora and Harry, but I want people to be mindful of its content in case they don't feel comfortable reading about this, or in case it hits too close to them. Feel free to reach out if you want to skip something and you'd like me to fill you in. <3

PART ONE

Despite the line, getting through security would've taken Aurora hardly three minutes. That is, of course, if she hadn't had to wait for Harry for another ten. 

He doesn't look the least apologetic for the held back, though. Nor bothered in the slightest by the extra time he seemingly needed. Smiling at her and holding their shared tray as he tilts his chin to an empty table and leads the way towards it. 

Aurora follows him quietly, checking her watch just to make sure they won't run out of time. And she does it unconsciously, regretting every time she catches herself looking at her wrist. Because she knows they're early. She swears she knows. And she wishes she could relax and just enjoy things without that awful feeling rushing through her body. That feeling that turns into a voice and yells at her that she's constantly behind. 

Behind what, one could ask, and Aurora wouldn't be able to answer.

She's just… Behind. 

Behind, and watching her life go by.

All the damn time.

Harry stops by the table, and Aurora mimics him. She drops her bag and falls on one knee, pulling up the hem of her dress and uncovering her foot. The Nike sneakers she's wearing used to be white once, but now they are just old and dirty, and she loves them even more like this. She nibbles the flesh inside of her bottom lip while tying the shoelaces up, then changes to her other knee, and repeats the process. 

Once she's done, she stands up and pats her legs, getting rid of any airport floor dirt from her clothes. 

"You're fast," Harry says, putting his foot down from the edge of the table. 

Aurora pulls the fabric of her dress up her chest and furrows her brows. "I am?"

"Hm, yeah." He frowns with amusement and chuckles. "You sure are."

"Huh." She wiggles her eyebrows up and down, then quirks the corner of her mouth up. 

Maybe, she should point out that perhaps she isn't fast, but he is too slow. Or that, unlike him, she'd organized everything beforehand so she wouldn't waste any second longer than she absolutely needed to. But what good would that do? Besides, those thoughts don't even feel like hers. They don't sound like hers. 

So she says nothing, instead, and steps closer to where he stands. 

Harry gives the tray they're sharing a gentle push to her side, and puts his other foot up. 

Aurora promptly slides the tray closer to her and places it in front of her belly, next to her bag. 

Great. 

Saying nothing was a bad idea, because silence is awkward now. 

She licks her lips and keeps her attention on their belongings, not knowing exactly what to say. 

Time goes by, though, and the longer she waits, the more awkward it gets. 

So she decides to just say whatever, just to get them talking again. 

"Perks of being a mom, I guess." She blurts out, then grabs their passports and shrugs. "Being fast, I mean." 

Harry leans on his bent knee and looks at her over his shoulder, blindly tying up his own shoes. 

"Yeah? Why's that? You get any super speed powers when you're pregnant or something?"

Aurora freezes for a second, passports still in hand. She turns her head to the side, and narrows her eyes at him.

Harry's soft lips are pursed, his green eyes are twinkling with playfulness, and his cheeks are tinted with a boyish flush under his facial hair. He's clearly having fun with his own silly comment, and it causes Aurora to break into a short laugh — not because it's funny, but because she simply can't help it. 

She shakes her head, and looks back at the tray. 

"I rush to get ready so I can pay attention to Noah, okay?" she explains, grabbing the boarding passes and checking the names on them. She puts hers inside of her passport, and the other inside of Harry's. "It's not a big deal."

She'd never thought about it, but it's the truth — she is usually busy keeping an eye on Noah, even from a distance. The little monster can't stay still for too long, and no matter how much she adores how energetic he is or that she tries her best to let him explore things by himself, the truth is that he's still only four, and she can't leave him wandering around unattended.

Which is why she fought so hard to sign him up for preschool — it gave her time to slow down and do other things, too.

Okay. See? That — that right there — is Aurora's truth. That's a thought that feels and sounds like hers. A thought that she came up with on her own, based on her own experiences and her own mistakes. A thought that reveals how she's learned that taking care of Noah is her responsibility, and that if she doesn't pay attention to her son, nobody does. 

No matter how much she dreamed it would be different.

No matter how much she believed it should be different. 

"Ohhh," Harry says. "Ok, then."

She sticks her passport and boarding pass into the front pocket of her bag, maybe a little bit more forcefully than she needs to.

"Exactly. So don't judge me."

"What?!" Harry laughs, putting his foot down from the table. "I wasn't—" 

"I can't leave my son unattended, can I?"

"I—I know, yeah." His face falls, and he nods. "I get it. That's… It makes sense. Yes." 

"Right. Great." 

A second goes by, and then another one, and another one.

Silence settles again, but this time Aurora isn't worried about it being awkward or not. 

There's just… So much going on. 

Her heart is thumping loudly inside her chest, and her ears are buzzing. 

She shouldn't have snapped at him. 

She shouldn't have snapped at him.

It wasn't about him. 

It wasn't his fault. 

She pinches the tip of her nose and breathes in. Slowly, and steadily. 

One more time. 

Slowly.

And steadily.

And then, she moves again.

She holds Harry's things in her hand and leans on the table, reaching for his bag. Before she touches it, she looks at him over her shoulder and asks, "Do you mind if I open your bag?"

Harry doesn't answer, though. He's tilting his chin down and shaking his leg, making sure his pants are properly covering his ankles. 

Aurora purses her lips and straightens her back, then slides his bag across the table and pulls it closer to her body. 

Now everything's in front of her, the tray caged in between both duffel bags. 

She bites her bottom lip, but it's hard to stop her mouth from turning into a smile. 

Maybe the speed in which she moves isn't an inconvenience, after all. In fact, maybe it even comes in handy, because apparently if she doesn't move for both of them, someone will sooner or later shove them away. 

"Harry," she insists.

"Hm?" He looks up. A frown crinkles his face — his eyebrows are pulled together, his forehead is puckered, and his lips are curled downwards. As soon as he meets her eyes, though, his shoulders drop, and he shakes his head. "Sorry."

He scratches his jaw, dragging his nails over his stubble. 

Aurora stretches her arm, and pats her hand on the edge of the table, where his feet were a minute ago. "It's fine. I was just asking if it's okay to put your passport inside your bag."

"Oh! Yeah yeah, sure. Go ahead. Thanks."

"'Kay," she says, already unzipping the front pocket and putting things away. 

Aurora rolls her shoulders at the same time Harry moves closer, and she unthinkingly snatches his belt from the tray and hands it to him. 

"Here."

"Oh," he murmurs, grabbing it from her fingers. "Thanks."

He steps away, but there's something in his voice that somehow catches her attention, and Aurora turns her head. 

She glances over her shoulder, and peeks at his face. 

Harry is looking down again, chin pressed against his chest while he takes the end of his belt and puts it into the first front loop of his beige pants. His movements are casual, but he's holding back a smile, and Aurora can tell his mind is working on something.

Something silly, to be more specific. 

She curls her mouth up, then raises her left eyebrow. "What?"

Harry tugs his belt, threading it through the second loop. 

"What?" he repeats, and his mouth finally turns into a grin. 

She turns her body towards him, then places one hand on her waist and the other spread open on the table, holding up her weight. "C'mon, out with it."

Harry laughs, slightly bending his knees and throwing his head back. "I didn't even say a word!"

"Well, you didn't have to!" She rolls her eyes and chuckles, backing away from the table to put both hands on her hips. "I can see you're thinking something."

He shakes his head, looking down and threading his belt through the next loop. 

"Harry…"

He peeks at her through the corner of his eyes, then focuses back on his belt. 

"You're aware you can leave me unattended, right?" he asks, keeping a bright smile on his face and the light tone on his voice.

"What?"

"I mean I don't mind." He shrugs, eyes still on his current task. "Gotta admit it's kinda cute to see you like this." 

"I don't—"

"My favorite part was probably when you cleaned up the table."

"I—" Aurora closes her mouth, and exhales through her nose. "You put your feet there, Harry."

"I did, yeah. And you cleaned it up."

"Well, someone has to clean up your mess, don't you think?"

Harry glances at her, and smirks as mischievous and suggestive as he can be. "Oh, I always clean up my mess, love, don't worry about it."

He winks, and Aurora gasps. 

"Oh my God!"

She turns to face the table, feelings her cheeks getting warm. 

Harry laughs, though, so she steps closer to his side and nudges him with her elbow. 

"Shut up."

"'Kay mum."

"Ughhh." She rolls her eyes, then shuts them tightly and takes a deep breath in. "You're so annoying." 

Harry's laughter only grows louder, and Aurora shakes her head, blinking her eyes open again. 

It only takes him a moment to calm down, but the smile is still obvious in his voice when he speaks again. 

"I know. I'm just teasing you, tho. I'll stop now. I promise."

Aurora snorts. "Yeah, right." 

She believes his words as much as she believes Noah when he promises he will eat his entire dinner if he gets to eat dessert first. 

The thought brings a smile to her face, and she bites her lip to hold it back. 

Peeking inside the tray one more time, she finds several rings, a bracelet, a watch, and three necklaces. Her mouth twitches, and her chest trembles with amusement — no wonder why Harry took so much longer than her to get through security.

She pulls the string of her necklace from the tray, takes each side to the back of her neck and quickly clasps it back to its everyday place. Next, she grabs her watch, and puts it on just as fast around her wrist. 

"Well,"  she starts, then looks at him. 

Harry is, once again, deeply focused on his task — his chin touches his chest, his eyebrows are pulled together, and he's biting his bottom lip. 

"All yours now," she adds. 

Harry peeps at her through the corner of his eyes, his hands still attached to his belt as he finally reaches the last loop. He darts his vision to the tray, then back at her, scanning her chest, her wrist, and her hands. "You sure? All of it?"

"Mhmm."

A group of people walks to their table, and Aurora takes a step aside to give them more room.

"Ok." He buckles his belt, then fixes his shirt. "We can go, then."

"Oh. I didn't mean to rush you."

He smiles, putting one hand inside the tray and carelessly collecting everything that's left inside. 

"You didn't." He closes his hand into a fist, then shoves everything inside of his pocket. "It's just getting crowded here. C'mon."

"Hey, was my joke inappropriate?"

Past security and turning right, the hallway is significantly less hectic than any other area Aurora has walked through in the last hour or so. 

It is probably one of the brightest, too. 

"Hm?" she asks, tilting her head to give Harry her full attention. "Sorry, what joke?"

"About… Y'know, cleaning up my mess."

"Ohhh." Aurora laughs, then waves him off. "Please, it's nothing any of you guys haven't joked about before." 

"I know, but… Things are different now, aren't they? Don't want to make you uncomfortable, or, well, don't want to be disrespectful to your hus—"

"You're fine," she says, cutting him off before she'll be forced to either correct him or say nothing, implicitly letting him believe there's still a husband in her life. "Don't worry about it. Let's stop here so you can put your rings back on, yeah?"

She points to one side of the hallway, and walks in front of him to guide the way. It only takes her a few steps, then she places her bag by her feet and turns around. 

When she looks at him, she finds him frowning. 

Frowning and frozen on the spot. 

"Harry, hey!" She raises one hand and wiggles her fingers. "C'mon. I'll help you."

Harry's face softens. He shakes his head, then walks towards her while putting his hand inside of his pocket. 

Leaning against the white wall, Aurora watches him come to a stop right in front of her, then drop all of his jewelry on top of her spread open palm.

"Thank you," he murmurs. 

She finds his sight again, and a smile blooms across her face. "Sure, no problem."

His lips curve into a smile, too, and he looks down. He shakes his head and pulls his hair back, then turns his attention back to the items on Aurora's palms. He seems meticulous about which ring goes where, fiddling with them and hunting for specific ones. Eventually, he grabs three at once, and puts them on his pinky, middle and index left fingers. 

Aurora raises her chin and rests the back of her head against the wall, comfortably watching his relaxed face as he towers over her. 

From what she remembers, jewelry was never Harry's thing. Long hair and skinny jeans? One hundred percent. But the necklaces, the rings, and the bracelets? Those were things she'd no idea he'd be into. Or maybe not to the point of making them part of his casual look to the airport.  

"So," she teases, easing her dry lips with her tongue then forcing her voice to sound exactly like she imagines a reporter would sound like, "Harry, would you say you enjoy wearing rings?" 

Harry darts his eyes to her, and the expression on his face never falters, holding a serious and unamused demeanor as he moves his lips to say, "Bloody hate them."

She presses her lips together, but then she snorts, taking her free hand to cover her mouth. 

Harry shakes his head and grins, changing hands and catching two more rings to put on his right fingers. 

"Why? What's wrong with my rings?" 

She sighs and shrugs, calming down from her brief moment of foolish, silly laughter. 

"Nothing. 'M just teasing you."

He places the last two, and pulls the two golden strings from her palm. 

"Hmm…" Harry nods. He fixes his eyes on the jewelry and frowns, eying the many tiny knots that had formed along the necklaces. "Great, then. Glad you're having fun at my expense."

Aurora drops her jaw.

"You were making fun of me two minutes ago!"

Harry chuckles, although he's distracted by his attempt to untangle his necklaces. "Guess I was, huh."

He shakes his head, and Aurora steps away from the wall, getting closer to him.

"Which wrist do you wear this one?" she asks, lifting her hand and his bracelet.

"Left—I mean, right," he answers, and although they don't look at each other's faces, they both smile at the same time. 

Harry remains focused on the knotted strings between his fingers, but stops moving when Aurora curls one hand around his right wrist and pulls it closer to her face. In one quick movement, she clasps the item around it, then taps his hand twice. 

"All done. Now gimme that." 

She snatches the necklaces from him, and observes carefully before undoing the mess. One of the golden strings is longer than hers, but they're both just as delicate, and instead of a disk, one holds a cross pendant, and the other a tiny, thin tag. She bites her lip and patiently fiddles with the pieces of jewelry, taking her time to unwrap the tiny knots.

Things are quiet. Time ticks without a hurry. And after a minute, or maybe two, or three, she grins proudly, and lifts her chin to look at him.

"Look!" she says, even though she doesn't have to — Harry's already looking at her, already watching her. "I've done it!"

He blinks a couple of times, then nods, slowly mimicking her smile and her excitement. "Y—You did, yeah! Thanks."

"You're welcome." She grabs the longest string, picking each side with one hand, and takes a step closer to him. "I find untangling necklaces weirdly therapeutic." 

Harry widens his eyes. "What are you doing?!" 

Aurora rolls her eyes, and chuckles. "Calm down. I'm not gonna kiss you, don't worry."

"Right. No, yeah, I know that." He chuckles, too. "Of course." 

She stops moving and tilts her head, then raises her hands. "I mean, can I?"

"Wha—" Harry takes a step back. "Kiss me?!"

"Harry!" Aurora shrieks, also taking a step back and away from him. "Oh my God, no!"

She looks at him for a moment, taking in his bulged eyes and raised eyebrows. He looks mortified, and there's so much going on at once that she can't help but burst into laughter — at the misunderstanding, at the look of his face, but also at the terror in his voice. 

She turns away from him, throwing her head back as laughter breaches from her chest. 

"This is… I can't…"

"Sorry," Harry says, "I just—"

Aurora shakes her head, feeling warmth radiating from her chest throughout her entire body. 

"Oh my… Oh my God." She places one hand on her stomach and brings the other to her face, fanning herself while taking a deep breath in through her nose. "You should've… You should've seen your face… Oh God… Harry… You panicked so hard, I just…"

She wipes a tear from under her eye, and takes another deep breath in, working to calm herself down.

"I never… I never thought the idea of kissing me could… Could be that terrifying for someone. Oh God."

Harry sighs. "Auri…"

She turns around, and looks at him with the biggest smile on her face, her body still shaking from laughing. 

Harry isn't happy, though. Or at least he doesn't seem to be. He's narrowing his eyes, and furrowing his brows. His lips are pressed into a hard line, and his forehead is puckered. 

And just like that, Aurora's laughter fades away. 

Shit. 

She's too familiar with that dynamic, so she clears her throat and shakes her head. 

"I'm sorry. I—I know it wasn't funny. I just… I think I haven't laughed this hard in a really long time, so I just… I got carried away, I guess. I'm sorry. But I shouldn't—Sorry." 

"Listen, I didn't—"

"Yeah, yeah. I know." 

Actually, Aurora doesn't know. Of course she doesn't know. She has absolutely no idea what he was about to say, but she doesn't want to talk about it. She's been there before. And she's been there before so many times that her mind and body don't even know how to react any other way. How not to anticipate the humiliation and shame that is about to follow. How not to completely shut off. 

Thankfully, Harry seems to get it, because he nods, grabbing his necklaces from her hand and putting them back inside of his pocket. 

And this time, Aurora doesn't say anything about it, grabbing her bag from the floor and feeling ready to move on.

"Do you mind if we take a look around some of the shops?" Aurora asks, pointing around the World Duty Free and breaking the silence that settled between them for the past few minutes. 

Harry moves slowly next to her, keeping his hands inside of his pockets. "'Course not."

"Thanks." She makes sure to curve her mouth into a smile, then stops at the first shop to take a look at the makeup. 

Things are quiet, but Harry stands right behind her all the time, keeping her company while she brings a lipstick closer to her face to check the color shade, and then following her steps when she moves to a different shelf. 

"Hey," Aurora says, looking over her shoulder, "what's your cologne?"

"Hm..." He scratches his jaw and shrugs. "Depends on the day, I guess."

She nods, then turns to face some nail polish, aiming for the brightest options. 

It's been a while since she's done her nails. She used to love looking at her hands and seeing them colorful and filled with rings, it used to make her feel beautiful and delicate. Feminine. 

Zack used to love it as well, though, and to be honest at some point she stopped doing a lot of things Zack liked. Just because.

"Which one are you wearing today, then?"

"Why?" 

She shrugs. His voice is right behind her, but Aurora doesn't turn around to look at him. 

"'Cause you smell really nice." 

Maybe she could do her nails in Italy… Maybe one of the girls brought something with them. 

Or maybe she could get something herself…

The orange shades look nice…

She sighs, and steps away from the shelf. 

She can't. She shouldn't spend her money like that. She needs to be more careful now, especially since she spent a lot of unplanned money on that trip to Italy. 

She turns her head, wiggling her eyebrows at him. "So…?" 

Harry clears his throat. "Uh… Well… It's Guerlain."

Aurora twirls, holding her bag close to her body as her hair and dress follow her brisk movement.

"Cool! Let's find it, then." 

She walks away, and Harry's low chuckle echoes behind her. 

Although she can't see him, she feels his presence all the time, following her pace.

"What for?" he asks. 

"I don't know." She shrugs, looking from one side to the other. Scanning all the tiny duty-free shops. "I'm bored, I'm tired… Oh! There it is!" 

Her pace quickens, and so does Harry's.

Aurora only stops when she's in front of the Guerlain shelves, and then she turns around, staring at him with a smile on her face and pointing her arm to the many colognes displayed behind her. 

"Which one is yours?"

He clears his throat, and— 

Wait, is he blushing? 

Aurora purses her lips, holding herself back from laughing.

"It's L'Homme Idéal Extrême."

"Hmmm." She wiggles her eyebrows, and pulls one corner of her mouth up in a smirk. "Sounds sexy…" 

"Jesus Christ," Harry grunts, hiding his face behind both of his hands and shaking his head. 

Aurora laughs at his reaction, tapping his shoulder twice before turning on her feet and looking for his cologne. 

"What happened to you in the States, huh?" She leans down, squinting to read the names. "Never thought I would see Harry Styles getting all shy in front of me."

It takes him a moment to answer, but eventually he mumbles, "I've always been shy in front of you."

Aurora pauses for a moment, replaying his words in her mind. Images of them hanging out together pop up immediately — at the pub, at someone's apartment, after class, over the weekend. His cheeky glances, touchy hands and bold comments are always present, one way or another. He always craved attention, and people had no problem granting his wishes. 

It never bothered her, because he was young and had just joined university, but it certainly didn't paint him as a shy and reserved person. 

A snort leaves her mouth. "Yeah, right." 

She stands, and puts her hands on her waist. "What was the sexy name again?"

"L'Homme—" He sighs. "It's this one."

Aurora turns around, only to find Harry standing in the same place they were a minute ago. The shelf next to him is filled with bottles of the same cologne. Apparently, his cologne.

She gasps. 

"Harry!" She walks towards him, and Harry shakes his head in soft laughter, scratching the back of his neck. "I was standing right next to it and you didn't tell me!"

"It's just a very common cologne, Auri." He laughs, again. It sounds kind of shaky, though, and she frowns, stopping on her track. "I don't… Why are we looking for it?"

Uh… 

Well… To be honest… She doesn't have an answer for that. 

She doesn't know why they're looking for it. She is just joking. She just wanted to pass the time because she is exhausted, and because the longer she spends around people, the more afraid she is of falling apart at any moment. She thought maybe she could try it on, see if his cologne would smell as well on her skin as it smelled on his… Who knows… She was just… She wasn't thinking, okay? She was just being her stupid self.

Harry, on the other hand, isn't just messing around. Harry looks actually nervous. 

Her jokes are making him nervous. 

She is making him uncomfortable. 

In the middle of an airport, filled with people. 

Shit.

And she's done it twice now. 

First with the necklace… Now with the cologne… 

Fuck.

How many more times till he reaches his breaking point? 

How many more times till she finally pushes him through the edge? 

How many more times till she puts him in a position where he won't be able to stop himself from snapping at her?

Her hands shake, and her stomach quivers. 

"Yeah, no, I mean…" She shakes her head and smiles at him, closing her hands into fists and placing them behind her back. "You're right. Sorry. I—I'm really sorry. Hm… I think I… I should get a coffee."

Harry flinches his head back. "Wait  what?"

"Coffee. It'll keep me awake." She walks around him, and Harry follows her movements. 

"Auri, but what… Hey! What about my cologne?"

She waves it off. "Yeah, I know. I was just being annoying." 

She moves towards the exit of the duty-free, where all the departure gates are, and another yawn breaks through her lips. 

"Yep." She chuckles. "Definitely need some coffee."

"Auri," Harry calls, catching up with her. "Hey, stop. C'mon. Something just happened."

"What do you mean?" Aurora laughs. 

She flexes her fingers, curling and uncurling them. Her eyes wander around the airport, looking for a coffee shop. 

A coffee shop. 

A coffee shop. 

She needs a coffee shop. She needs to get herself together. She needs to busy herself with something before she does something silly and stupid again. 

"I… I don't know. Why did you change your mind?"

Harry walks next to her, and she offers him a smile. 

"About what?"

"What do you mean about what? About my cologne, Auri!"

Aurora flinches.

"Sorry. Yeah, no, right. The cologne. Yeah. I just… I made you uncomfortable and I was being childish. Sorry."

"I wasn't uncomfortable, Auri, I just—"

"I know."

"Auri, no, listen—" 

"Harry." She turns around and smiles, then places one hand on his elbow. "It's fine. You don't need to explain yourself. I just… I really, really need a coffee right now. I haven't slept all night, so… Yeah. I'd just like to get a coffee. If you don't mind."

She lets go of his elbow, and Harry sighs. 

"Ok, yeah. Let's get you some coffee, then."

They walk forward, side to side, and Harry speaks again. 

"Do you still drink caramel coffee?"

Aurora widens her eyes. 

"Wow… That's back from… Well, a long time ago."

It's small, and kind of timid, but Harry smiles, and then shrugs. "Used to get you one at least once a week, didn't I?"

"You did, yeah." She smiles back at him and nods, then faces forward again. There's a coffee shop only three stores ahead, and it seems to be already open. Thank God. "To be honest I can't remember the last time I had one. I drink plain black coffee now."

Harry nods, and they both walk in silence, side by side — always side by side.

It shouldn't be uncomfortable, but Aurora's chest is heavy, and her mind seems foggy. 

Truth be told, she thought she would have more time before she started disappointing her friends, before letting them know how much she's changed and how uninteresting she's become.

Meeting Harry at the airport got in between her plans, though. And she could feel herself breaking little by little each second. Having to face the memories of someone she used to be, someone she liked to be, but also someone she isn't anymore. And someone she can't be anymore. 

Looking at her feet, she bites the inside of her lip. She was acting like a child at the duty-free, wasn't she? Jumping around, excited about his cologne… 

God. She hasn't even left the country yet, and she's already ruining things. 

She needs to control herself. 

She isn't a teenager anymore. She can't embarrass him. She doesn't want to embarrass him. 

"Do you want something to eat?" Harry asks, and she stops walking.

They're in front of the coffee shop, but Aurora wouldn't have realized if it weren't for him.

She shakes her head. "No, I'll just get myself a coffee."

"Let me get it for you."

What?

She takes a step back. "Absolutely not."

Harry's smile falters, but he doesn't give up. "C'mon… Like the old times! Yeah?"

"No, Harry. I mean, thanks, but no. I can pay for mine."

"I know you can pay for yours, I don't—"

"Please." She shakes her head and looks down to the floor. "It's just a silly coffee. I can get it for me. Okay?"

Harry frowns. 

"Ok? Yeah." 

Aurora nods, looks at the shop, then back to the floor. "Are you getting anything?"

"No, I'll just wait here."

"Okay," she whispers, forcing a smile before turning around and walking away.

It's crazy to see how much Harry has changed.

That's all Aurora can think about while she stands in line and watches him type on his phone. 

He's still outside, waiting for her, and seems deeply engaged with his conversation, frowning while his fingers move rapidly. 

No more black skinny jeans, no more vintage t-shirts or Chelsea boots. No more curls that are longer than her own hair. No more thin shoulders nor skinny arms. 

His baggy pants — wide legged, high-waisted — are beige, his cute shoes are yellow, and she still can't get over the flamingo shirt he's wearing.

He looks older, too. Brooding features, chiseled cheekbones, growing stubble. His face is perfectly carved, his traces have hardened, and there is something very manly about the way he stands there, focusing on typing on his phone. 

It isn't just his physical appearance, though. He acts like a grown-up, too. There's something about the way he simply exists that screams how much he's changed. You would never tell the man standing outside is the same boy who used to make stupid bets with his roommates from uni. But it's clear that Harry isn't a boy anymore, and that he's turned into a man.

And Aurora wasn't prepared to deal with that. 

Aurora lowers her chin and rubs her eyes.

She is being ridiculous. 

Why would she need to be prepared for that? 

Of course Harry grew up! How old is he now, anyway? 29? 30? Of course he isn't the same anymore. 

She should focus on how nice it is to see him again, not about stupid things. 

Who would've thought she would actually meet him at the airport? Who would've thought they'd end up sharing the flight? Standing in line with him, hopefully getting some seats next to each other… She should appreciate having a friend by her side. That's all. 

Aurora can't remember why he stopped hanging out with the group, though, and now she can't stop thinking about it. She has absolutely no idea about anything that could be going on with his life. It was as if Harry had grown more and more distant with time, until he wasn't there at all.

She's still pretty sure the last time she saw him was at her and Zack's wedding. She remembers someone telling her he'd moved to the United States, but why wasn't she at his graduation? It didn't make sense. Especially considering how, around a year later, he was kind enough to send them a basket when Noah was born.

They weren't the closest friends, and they were in very different stages of their lives when they met, sure, but they were part of the same group, and she used to have a soft spot for him. Just like she used to have a soft spot for Niall. 

Usually, when they were all at the pub, everyone would leave and the three of them would stay behind, chatting and laughing until Aurora felt her lids closing by themselves and they would walk her home. They both used to make her laugh all the time, and she actually loved spending those moments with them. 

Until she met Zack, of course, and then she started spending her nights with him. 

Maybe that was it. Maybe it wasn't about him. Maybe she had grown more and more distant, until she wasn't around anymore. At all.

She knows it's something she's done with everyone else, at least. The girls would knock on her door from time to time, though, and she couldn't run from everyone whilst living in the same city, but Harry flying overseas was a different situation. So it makes sense they didn't keep up with their friendship. 

It makes sense, but it still bothers her. 

It bothers her because she forgot how easy, and fun, and electrifying it was to be around him. She forgot how affectionate, attentive, kind, and friendly he was. She forgot how spontaneous and cheerful she used to be with him. She forgot how much she enjoyed his carefree and easygoing way of looking at life. She forgot… 

Well, to be honest, it's like she just forgot about him. 

And how could she forget about him?

Harry used to be such a great friend. 

Just like Niall. 

But somehow different. 

Because there's something about the way Harry looks at her that she never found in Niall's eyes. It has something to do with Harry's curiosity, probably. How much he cares about details. How he likes to know more about people, about things, about everything. 

"Next?" the lady behind the counter shouts.

Aurora shakes her head, and darts her eyes away from Harry. 

She has no idea how much time she just spent staring at him. She didn't even notice she was doing it, to be honest. And she can only hope he didn't notice, as well.

The woman behind her taps her shoulder.

"That's you, miss," she says. 

Aurora widens her eyes and steps forward.  "Oh, yes, sorry… Hi!" 

Their flight is delayed. 

Aurora laughs, and rubs her fingers on her forehead. 

"And I was worried I'd be late," she murmurs.

They've been hanging out by their gate for at least half an hour now. Harry sits next to her, their bags placed together on his opposite side. He's leaning back comfortably, arms crossed on top of his abdomen and legs spread open in front of him. 

He nudges her arm with his elbow, then asks, "What was that?"

She shakes her head and waves him off with one hand, then double taps her phone with the other, lighting up the screen. 

It's 6:30. 

Noah should be waking up by now. Or at least Zack should be trying to wake him up. 

She unlocks her phone and opens up the app to text him. She takes a deep breath in, and her fingers hover the screen. She needs to be careful with her words, because she doesn't want him to think she doesn't trust him with Noah. That would be unfair with him. And it's not even about that. Of course it's not! She knows Noah's safe with his dad. She swears she never questioned him as a father. Whatever happened between them as a couple would never change the fact that Zack loves Noah to death. 

Aurora knows that. Really! The only reason why she wants to know how they're doing is because Noah has never woken up at his dad's new place, and because she knows what a long and emotional process it can be to wake him up. That's all. 

She bites her bottom lip, and types the same questions again and again, until she's happy with the way she's phrased them.

Hii! 

How are you guys doing?

How was Noah's first night over there? Did you guys have fun?

She sends the messages, and reads them over. And over, and over. 

That was good, wasn't it? She sounded friendly, right? She wasn't attacking him, right? He wouldn't be mad at her, right?

"I'll be right back," Harry says, getting up from his seat. He moves past her quickly, looking at his own hand and sliding his finger through the screen of his phone before taking it to his ear. "Hey… Yeah, I know… No, you listen to me…"

Harry doesn't sound happy — at all — and Aurora frowns. She watches him walk away, blending between people, then glances back to her phone.

No signs of Zack yet. Which is fine. Of course. It's not even been a minute. Actually, Aurora is usually so absorbed by Noah in the mornings that she doesn't check her phone until she drops him off at preschool. So it's fine. Really.

Hopefully he'll be able to make him have breakfast by 7:15, though. Otherwise they won't get there on time. Should she remind him of that? No, that's stupid. Zack is not stupid, and she always drives him insane for reminding him of the obvious little details. 

Maybe he won't even take him to preschool. Maybe he'll drive him over to his parents, instead. 

Or maybe she should just trust him. Maybe this would be the time he'd follow through with a promise he'd made.

Another yawn sneaks up on her. She slides down on her seat and rubs her eyes with the palms of her hands. 

Maybe she should accept Harry's offer and take a quick nap on his shoulder. She brushed the idea off minutes ago, but now she can't deny it sounds really tempting. 

God… How is she supposed to spend two days on a yacht? She's never been on one before. She also hasn't been around all her friends in a very long time… 

Is she going to be able to interact with them? Because if they're expecting her to act the same way she used to before getting married… Well, they'll be extremely disappointed.

The only thing about Aurora that'll resemble those old days are the clothes Maddie packed for her. 

Shit. Oh shit. Oh… Fuck! Her clothes. No, no, no. Shit! She is going to kill Madison. 

She can't wear all those clothes in front of Harry! There is no fucking way she'll walk in front of him in a bikini, or wearing those silk and backless dresses. There is absolutely no fucking way she's going to wear those tops that almost don't cover her breasts in front of him. 

Well, not just in front of him, of course…

She's thinking about Harry because he's the one with her right now, but she doesn't want to wear those clothes in front of anyone. Not just him. 

It isn't even about the people, really. It's about her body. A body that has changed a lot through the years. 

Oh, boy… She needs to sleep. She can't start spiraling about how unsexy she's been feeling for years. It's not the moment for that. It's not what the weekend is about. 

"Are you sleeping with your eyes open?" Harry's low and deep voice sounds right next to her ear, and Aurora jumps on her seat. 

Harry chuckles behind her, then makes his way around her seat. 

"Shit," she murmurs, taking her hand to her chest, but a shaky laugh still leaves her mouth. "You scared me."

He stops in front of her and furrows his brows, then tilts his head to the side and curves his mouth into a cheeky smile, narrowing his eyes to look at her. 

"What?" she asks. 

He doesn't move, though. 

And he also doesn't stop staring at her. 

Aurora shifts on her seat. 

But the staring still doesn't stop.

"Harry!" She chuckles, and looks away. 

And he still doesn't even flinch.

Oh, c'mon! That's ridiculous. 

It's like going back to university, honestly. He used to do the same when they were younger, usually at a pub or a club. He would stare at her like that until she stumbled over her own words, or until she forgot what she was about to do. He thought it was hilarious, but she never understood the point of it. 

"Knock it off, will ya?" She crosses her arms on top of her chest and rolls her eyes. "I was just thinking."

Harry (finally) laughs, face lighting up again — with dimples and wrinkles and almost fully-closed eyes.

He moves his arm, and puts a paper cup in front of her face. 

Aurora snaps her brows together.

"Sorry, love, I was just testing my skills," he says.

Aurora flinches her head back.

Why is he shoving that cup in her eyes? 

And also… "What skills?"

He shrugs. "Y'know, to rile you up just by looking at you." 

Harry presses his lips together, as if he can't wait to burst out laughing.

And Aurora knows that face, because Noah does the exact same thing. The cheeky little monster loves to surprise her, but he can never hold up a lie. He gives out the entire thing just by looking at her with the same excitement on his face. 

They honestly look the same. Except Noah is only four, and Harry a thirty-year-old man.

"Ha ha," she mocks him, looking away from his silly face. "You and my four-year-old son would be great friends."

"Aww!" Harry takes his seat next to her, chuckling and throwing an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to his side. "I'm sure we would." 

She rolls her eyes. 

Harry squeezes her cheek against his chest, and she's so close to his body that she can smell the soap and cologne emanating from his skin. He smells good. Like a fresh shower. It's a nice combination, something both strong and smooth at the same time.

Shit.

She pulls away, and shakes her head. 

"It wasn't a compliment," she murmurs. 

Harry chuckles.

"Yeah, I'm aware of that." He withdraws his arm from around her shoulders and takes it back to his side, then puts his hand back in front of her face. The one holding a paper cup. "Now, this is for you."

Aurora raises her eyebrows. 

"And what's this supposed to be, exactly?" 

"Just try it." 

She doesn't make any movement to acknowledge his request, but Harry also doesn't make any movement to hint he'll stop shoving the cup on her face. Eventually, she sighs, and her entire body falls. 

"Harry…" 

"Oh, c'mon! Just a sip. Amuse me, yeah?"

Aurora glances at his hand, then back at his face. She presses lips together, then finally uncrosses her arms and lifts one of them to reach the cup, curling her fingers around it. 

For the sake of not ruining her mood, she ignores the way he cheers, or how he grins proudly before leaning his back against the backrest of his seat. She simply clutches the cup between both hands, instead, and its warmth is a high contrast with her cold skin. She can't help but hum at the feeling, and then she shivers, even her chin trembling a little. 

A timid chuckle escapes from her mouth, and she closes her eyes. She brings the cup up to her face and puts her nose close to the lid, breathing the flavor in. 

And just like that, her chest tightens. 

The smell is unmistakable, a combination between coffee and caramel that she would recognize anywhere, anytime. 

She blinks her eyes open, and turns her head to look at him. 

Harry is watching her attentively, without any traces of amusement or playfulness surrounding him anymore.

Aurora blinks a couple of times, gathering enough strength to ask him, "Did you… Did you get me a caramel coffee?" 

He nods once, only one side of his mouth lifting up. "Yeah."

She looks back at the cup in her hands, and blinks again. 

"Why?"

"I don't know," he says, softly. "Intuition, maybe. I know you already had your black coffee, but I… I don't know. I felt like you needed it? I don't know. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, it sounds stupid. Is that okay? Hope I didn't—"

She nods rapidly — unable to speak, but also desperate for him to stop explaining himself. 

And thankfully, he does. 

Aurora doesn't know what to say about it, though. She doesn't even know if there's anything she can say about it. 

His words don't sound stupid to her. That's for sure. The thing is that Harry doesn't understand the meaning his gesture actually holds, which scares her. He was able to pick up on something she needed when she wasn't brave enough to admit it to herself in the first place. And it was something so trivial… It was just coffee. Coffee.

"Noah does that sometimes, y'know," Aurora murmurs, looking at the mass of people in front of them. She hunches down a bit, not bothering by her awful posture as she comforts herself with the hot beverage in between her hands. Changing the subject is the only way she knows how to answer him right now, so she keeps going. "Sleeping with his eyes half open. It freaks me out."

Harry hums.

"There's a name for that, isn't it?" 

His voice is as soft and calm as before, and Aurora nods.

"Yeah, nocturnal something… I don't know. I always forget the stupid word." She rolls her eyes, and a humorless laugh leaves her mouth, making her body shake. "How do people even choose these names, huh? Why bother naming it if it's gonna be some ridiculous word no-one can even pronounce?"

"That's… Yeah, I don't know. You have a point, though."

"Sorry," she whispers, looking down at her lap. "Zack drives me insane using all those terms all the time. Makes me feel stupid."

Harry doesn't say anything, but for once the silence between them doesn't feel uncomfortable. 

She exhales the frustration out of her body, taking the cup to her mouth and sipping carefully in case it burns her tongue. 

The coffee touches her lips, and its sweetness automatically invades all of her senses. Her tongue tastes the caramel, and there's something bitter behind it, but it is mostly mellow and buttery. Just like she remembers it. 

And just like that, she's remembering all of it. 

She's flooded with memories from the comfort of home, and about the fun of living. Memories with simpleminded thoughts and unpretentious actions. 

She's back to a place where she isn't scared of speaking her mind all the time, where she isn't afraid of letting people down by her silly behavior, where she isn't terrified of her personality being the embarrassment of those around her. She's back to a place where she knows her friends and family like her for who she is, and where she's proud of her because of that. 

She's full of affectionate touches, sincere words, and genuine feelings.

There's confidence inside her, and an entire world she's willing to find out. 

And when she finally gulps down the simplest sip of caramel coffee, warmth takes over her throat. It reverberates through every inch of her body, and she shivers — her body filling with goosebumps as she closes her eyes to the paradoxical feeling. 

A moment passes, and the weight of a soft textured fabric lands on her back.

"Before you say anything," Harry's deep voice murmurs next to her, and she opens her eyes to look at him. "I'm not wearing it. And it's driving me insane seeing you so cold, so please just wear it."

Aurora glances at her shoulders, finding Harry's checked jacket covering her skin. It feels good, and it feels warm. And she actually doesn't mind it. At all. But there's something about the way Harry has just talked to her that flies directly into Aurora's heart. 

Maybe it's the softness of his voice. Or maybe how worried he sounded. Or maybe the fact that he seems to pay attention to her. Or maybe just because he acts as if he knows her so well. Even after so many years without talking to her. Or seeing her.

Or maybe it's just because she's already on edge because of the damn caramel coffee he bought especially for her.

She doesn't know exactly what it is, but something in his words triggers her into instantly tearing up. She can't help the overreaction, and before she can figure out a way to hide it, the evidence of her crying falls down her cheek, and she's taking a hand up to wipe it off her.

"Auri, hey…" 

Harry's hand lands on her back. The last push she needs to turn into an emotional wreck. A sob bursts out of her chest, and she covers her mouth. Oh my God. 

"Auri, love, I'm sorry… Did I… I can get the jacket back, I didn't—"

She shakes her head and puts the coffee between her thighs, then takes both hands up to her face. She uses her palms to wipe down the tears from her cheeks, and a long and shaky sigh leaves her mouth. 

Harry takes the cup from between her legs, putting it down on the floor before shifting closer to her. His knees bump into the side of her thigh, and the hand that isn't on her back brushes softly her jaw, getting rid of another tear.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she whispers. "You're fine. You didn't… You didn't do anything wrong."

The last thing she wants is for him to see her like that. They haven't seen each other for so long… She doesn't want to welcome him back to her life with tears and drama. She also doesn't want him to feel guilty about something that has nothing to do with him. 

"Ok…" He sounds wary, and while one hand rubs circles on her back, the other grabs her hand. "What's going on, tho? What can I do to help?" 

Once again, Aurora shakes her head. "I'm… I'm fine. I think I'm just… I'm  just exhausted from not sleeping last night."

It isn't a lie, but it also isn't the truth. She doesn't want to admit how lonely she constantly feels, because she wants to learn how to be alone. It doesn't make sense to ask for help when all she wants is to learn how to not need help.

"Why didn't you sleep?" 

"It's nothing. Really… Don't worry about me, I'm just being dramatic right now."

He strokes his thumb up and down on the back of her hand, and Aurora sighs, leaning into the warmth of his jacket. 

Warmth. Apparently that's all she craves now. 

"Of course I worry about you, Auri. And I'm here if you need anything, ok?" 

She nods, but his care for her brings another wave of tears, and she hides behind one hand while the other holds tightly onto him. 

"C'mere," he murmurs, dragging the hand on her back to her shoulder and pulling her to his chest. 

She can't believe the amount of times she's been hugged by him in merely a couple of hours, but she doesn't fight him. In fact, she does quite the opposite: she snuggles into him and cries quietly. And when Harry squeezes her shoulders, she squeezes his fingers in response. 

"Talk to me, love, please. What's going on?"

She sniffs. "Nothing…"

He rubs her arm, softly and tenderly, then carefully adds, "I don't wanna force you, but I can tell something's up and I'm worried about you."

Aurora shakes her head, feeling the desperation in her body slip out of her mouth as she cries to him. "Please don't... I don't want… I don't wanna worry you, ok? I really don't. I don't want to bother you. I'm just… Overreacting. I'll be fine. I'll be—"

"Auri, that's not—"

"Yes. Yes it is. It's just—"

"Stop doing that," he says, squeezing her shoulder. "You keep shutting me off every time I try to explain myself."

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I swear. I'm sorry—"

"Auri—

"—I'm so sorry—"

"—It's okay—"

"—I really am—"

"Auri, hey!" He pulls back, grabbing her shoulders with both hands and forcing her to look at him. His eyes are warm and caring as he stares inside hers, but there's a frown all over his face that screams something different. Annoyance, perhaps? Or maybe… Frustration? "Listen to me. It's fine, ok? There's no need for you to apologize. It's fine."

She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. "No…"

"Yes, it's fine, Auri."

"It's not—"

"Yes—" 

"No!" Aurora opens her eyes, but tears quickly blurry her sight. She blinks, and before she knows it, she's fully sobbing and crying again. "It's not fine! Ok?! I'm not… I'm not fine, Harry. I'm not! I'm falling apart and I just… It's like I can't stop… And I just… I hate it, ok? I really do… I keep letting everyone down. And I… Fuck… I have no idea how… How am I supposed to spend the entire weekend…. The entire weekend pretending my life isn't a mess right now? I just… I can't… I can't pretend… I'm not… I can't…"

There's only a beat of silence before Harry pulls her into his chest again, squeezing her shoulders while he takes a long, deep, and heavy breath in. Then exhales loudly through his nose. 

"I don't know what's going on with your life right now," he says softly, resting his chin on the top of her head and closing his eyes while she sobs into his chest. "And I know I haven't been around, but I'm here for you, ok?" 

And just like before, Aurora melts into him. She hugs his waist, and leans against his body despite the uncomfortable and public position they're in. Crying all the tears she's been holding in so far. Silently sharing with him all the hurt, the doubts, and the insecurities she's been feeling. All the blaming, the questioning, and the yelling she's been hiding. Letting him absorb the wreck she is turned into after six years of marriage. All the failures. All the mistakes. All the countless "should've done better", and also "should've tried harder".  She lets it all out. With no hold backs, nor regrets.

"And you don't have to pretend, Auri," he adds. "At least not to me. Not even a little bit. Never… Why would you even pretend, huh? I can't be there for you if you don't let me know your life's a mess, and I want to be there for you. You know I do, yeah?"

Aurora can't answer him, not when her body's turning everything inside her into tears and sobbing, but he doesn't seem to be waiting for any words. Nor reactions. He rubs her back gently, while still holding her tightly, and then just keeps talking. 

"Besides, I don't expect anything from you, so—I mean, wait… That's not—Shit. That didn't sound good."

And despite everything, despite all the pain and all the tears and all the fears, a soft and low chuckle escapes from Aurora's chest. 

"That came out wrong… It's not—It's not what I wanted to say. Because of course I expect things from you, like… You're brilliant. You're amazing. You can do amazing things if you want to, ok? I know you can. What I meant is that—That there's no pressure, y'know? That's all. And that no matter what you do or what you say, nothing will change... I mean, I haven't been around, but you don't have to pretend things are good if they aren't, y'know? I'll be your friend even if… I don't know… Even if everything's falling apart… Actually, I want to be there especially when everything's falling apart, ok? So yeah, I just—Jesus Christ." He sighs. "Fuck. Auri please tell me you know what I'm trying to say here because I'm just freaking myself out right now."

Aurora's chuckle turns into laughter, and she nods against his chest, taking one hand up to her face to wipe off the last few tears. 

"I do, yes." She clears her throat, trying to get rid of some of the scratchiness. "Relax. I got it from the beginning." 

Harry smiles and sighs again, squeezing her shoulders. "Could've said something, huh? Stop me there. Save me the embarrassment, maybe?"

"You said I kept cutting you off when you tried to explain yourself, so…" Aurora shrugs. 

"Ohh, I see. Okay." Harry laughs. "We should work on your timing, then. Smartass."

She smiles, and sniffs. "My timing's perfect. It was cute, and I was having fun."

"Of course you were."

Although she can't see him, the smile is obvious in his voice, and she sighs. A long and heavy sigh. One that's strong enough to relax her entire body, and that makes her close her eyes and drop her shoulders. 

"Thank you," she murmurs, still into his chest.

"Yeah," he murmurs back. "Anytime, love." 

There's a pause between them. And then Harry speaks again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, to be honest… At least not right now."

"Ok…" 

Another pause, and then… 

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She takes a deep, long breath in, then exhales while snuggling into his chest.

"Can we just… Stay like this for another minute? Just… Y'know… In silence?"

"Hm… So you want me to shut up, is that it?"

Aurora chuckles. 

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that, but…"

Harry chuckles, too. 

"'S fine. I don't mind. We can stay like this for as long as you want."

And so they do. 

They hug for a while. In silence. A tight embrace that's simple, but that's also intense enough to let her know that he's there for her. 

Aurora can't remember the last time she's been held like this, with honest tenderness and affection. The kind of hug that she doesn't question, and that comes naturally. That feels natural. 

"This was supposed to be a fun weekend," she murmurs, curling a little bit more into him and closing her eyes to avoid facing the world. "Can't believe I'm seeing you for the first time in years and already bringing all this drama to you."

Harry chuckles lightly. 

"Don't be silly, ok? We've been over this already… We're friends and this is what friends are for." He kisses the top of her head, and then rests his cheek against the same place. "Besides, we didn't leave London yet. We can still have plenty of fun."

Aurora sighs. "God. I really need to have some fun. I miss having fun."

"I'll make sure you get more than some."

He squeezes her shoulder, and Aurora smiles.

Still with her eyes closed, and pressing her ear against his chest, she listens to his heartbeat, and to the way he breathes. He isn't calm, but he is steady, and somehow comfortable. So she focuses on him, and only him. As if mimicking his rhythm, or syncing with his pace, could make everything in her life feel better. 

Harry sighs against her, and when the thumping inside him gets faster, she pulls one arm from around his waist to rest her hand on the left side of his chest. She spreads her fingers open where his heart is, and breathes in and out slowly, hoping to calm him down again. 

He takes one hand to her neck, sliding it to the back of her head and tangling his fingers with her hair. 

As he scratches her scalp, Aurora can feel every muscle of her body fully relaxing. It's soothing. And it's safe. There's no other place she would rather be right now, and she's convinced that, as long as she's holding him and he's holding her, she'll finally relax and rest like she hasn't been able to in so long. 

"Have you always been such a great hugger?" she asks, her voice as soft and as slow as her body feels.

Harry clears his throat, then murmurs, "I don't know." 

Aurora hums. 

Another moment passes, until she breaks the silence again.

"I'm sorry for being a shitty friend."

"You're not a shitty friend."

"But I am, tho. I have no idea what's going on with your life… It's been so long and I… I never reached out."

Harry sighs, and shifts on his seat. 

Aurora follows his movements, making sure the hug doesn't end even when he seems to be pulling away. 

He doesn't, though — pull away. He simply leans back on his seat, pulling her along with him. And because she's still comfortable against his chest, she doesn't see the way his face falls, how he presses his lips together in a hard line, or glares at random people passing by.

"It's fine," he eventually says. 

And she's so focused on her own past behavior, that she also doesn't notice the slight change in his voice.

"It's not, though."

"I never reached out either, did I? And I should have… I just… I should have." 

She fidgets with the fabric of his shirt, and although it takes her a moment to answer, the words fly easily out of her mouth. "I'm not sure if it would've made any difference, to be honest… I've pushed everyone away, would've done the same to you." 

"There's no fucking way I would've let you."

"It wouldn't be up to you, tho."

A ding-ding-dong blares from the speakers in the lounge area. 

"Attention passengers on Ryanair flight 1832 to Naples, we are now ready for boarding at gate 56. Passengers on Ryanair flight 1832 to Naples, we are now ready for boarding at gate 56. Boarding is for business class and passengers with…"

The attendant's voice fades as Aurora stops paying attention to it. She blinks her eyes open and, against her wishes, pulls away from Harry's arms.

"Finally," she breathes out.

When she looks at him, she finds nothing but honesty and affection inside his eyes, and it's enough to make her heart skip a beat. 

She curves her lips into a smile, then brings her hands up to wipe the dry tears from her cheeks. "Thank you."

Harry smiles, too. "You've said that already."

"I know." She nods, dropping her hands back to her lap. "I just… Thank you, really. For now and… And for the coffee. Even though I forgot to drink it."

He takes one hand to her face, and puts some of her hair behind her ear.

"We'll have time for another one," he says, then stares into her eyes again. "Yeah?"

"Yeah…" She gulps down, captivated by his gaze. "I think… I think it'd be nice if we could catch up, right? I mean, there's so much about you that I don't know…" 

Harry smiles, although it doesn't reach his eyes. 

"There isn't anything crazy to know about me."

Aurora furrows her brows. 

"Well I don't need crazy information, Harry," she scoffs, making sure the tone of her voice is carrying some playfulness while she rolls her eyes. "I just wanna know what's up with your life… Where do you live? Do you have any dogs, or cats? Where do you work? Do you have a girlfriend? Do you have any kids? Are you married? I don't know…"

Harry stares blankly at her for a moment, then looks away, reaching for their bags. 

"Those are too many questions, love."

Aurora shrugs. 

"Well, yeah…" She leans down and picks up her coffee. The cup feels cold, and although she's sad she didn't get to drink it, she wouldn't change anything about what happened in the last… Well, however long it's been since they got here. "I know. I'm curious. That's why I said it'd be nice to catch up."

She stands up and rearranges Harry's jacket, putting it on properly so it doesn't fall from her shoulders, then waits while he stands as well, picking their bags from the seat next to his.

"Ok, yeah. Sure. We can catch up." 

"Wow." She snorts and widens her eyes. "Calm down, now. Don't sound sooo excited, please."

Harry laughs. He puts his own bag on his shoulder, and she takes hers from his hand. 

"I'd love for us to catch up, Auri. I really would."

"Okay…" She narrows her eyes at him, putting her bag on her shoulder and walking towards the line. "Are you hiding something from me?"

Harry follows her, grabbing his boarding pass and passport from the front pocket of his bag. "Why would I hide something from you?"

"I don't know…" She throws the coffee cup away, then adds, "Maybe you're working with the FBI. Or, maybe you're married to someone who works for the FBI. Ohhhhh," — she widens her eyes, looking at him while he leads their way to the gate — "or maybe, you're married to someone who's being investigated by the FBI!"

Harry chuckles through his nose. He sneaks his hands inside Aurora's bag, pulling her boarding pass and passport from it.

"There's no FBI involved, I promise," he says, handing her the items. 

"Hmmm…" She grabs her things from his hand, and nibbles her bottom lip before asking, "But you're married to someone?" 

"Nop." 

"Okay… Dating to someone?"

He shakes his head, and Aurora nods.

"Are relationships a touchy subject, maybe?"

Harry smirks, and that's more than enough to give Aurora an answer, but she still waits for him to say something. 

Anything.

"I broke up with someone not too long ago." He shrugs. "So I'm not in the mood for relationships right now, to be honest. And that includes talking about it." 

The line moves quickly, and they take a step forward. 

"Oh, sure. Yeah. I get it. Of course." Aurora nods. "I'm sorry, tho. Y'know, that it didn't work out."

He shrugs, and they walk again.

"'S fine." 

The shift in his behavior is loud and clear, and it bothers her. The idea of someone breaking Harry's heart deep enough for the pain to overshadow his excitement and dull the brightness of his smile doesn't feel right. So it bothers her. It really does. Whoever it was, he surely deserved someone much better. He surely deserves someone better.

A flight attendant welcomes them with a grin and a cheerful good morning. Aurora smiles back, and hands him her passport and boarding pass, then waits for him to return them. He wishes her a safe flight, and repeats the same process with Harry. 

Aurora waits for him in silence, and once they're both ready to walk through the airgate, she picks the conversation back on. 

"I'm sure you'll find someone, y'know? It won't be that hard. You're still young, and dating was never a problem for you, so…"

There's a pause, and then Harry snorts. "Dating was never a problem for me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Y'know… That's what you, Niall and Jayden used to do all the time, wasn't it? Dating and… Flirting and hooking up with everyone?"

Harry stops walking and turns to stare at her in silence, with widened eyes and flared nostrils. 

Aurora stops, too, biting her lip to hold back her amusement while waiting for him to say something. 

He doesn't, but he eventually laughs, throwing his head back and making her fully smile at him. He shakes his head, and starts walking again.

"Jeez, Auri, I'm so offended right now."

"Oh c'mon…" She chuckles, following his steps. "I meant it as a compliment, okay? Like… Girls were always into you, that's all."

"Not all girls, though."

"Fine." She shrugs. "Ninety-five percent of them, then."

He snorts again. "Ok."

"How old were you when we met? Twenty? Twenty-one?"

"Nineteen."

"Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah, it was my second year. Why?"

"Nothing. I think… For a moment I just forgot you're so much younger than me, that's all."

"C'mon, not so much, I'm almost thirty now."

"Well, yes, but I'm thirty-five."

"See? Same age."

She chuckles. "We're not the same age."

"Ok, but almost."

"Not even close, Harry."

"Oh c'mon! Then what are you now? Ancient? Should I call you grandma?"

She chuckles. "Well… I do feel ancient, to be honest."

He rolls his eyes. "This is ridiculous. You're just as young as I am."

She shakes her head. 

"Yeah, I mean, I know that… But I don't know… I mean, talking to you right now I don't feel like you're younger, y'know? Let alone that much. But also—"

"It's not that much."

"No, I know. But if you think about it, I already got married and I have a four-year-old at home, so like, I really am too old and—What?" Harry is frowning at her, and she tilts her head. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He shrugs, then faces forward, away from her. "I'm trying to decide if I should kick your ass right now or just throw you into the ocean later."

She gasps, but then she chuckles. "What? Whyyy?"

Harry raises his eyebrows at her. "I'm only five years younger than you, Auri. Five. It's not even a big deal."

She sighs.

The line in front of them moves, and they move forward as well. 

"Sorry. You're right. Like I said, it doesn't feel like it right now, but I think… I don't know. When you were 19 and I was 24 it was different, yeah? I mean, we were in different stages of our lives. I was meeting Zack and you were—" 

"Yes, I know. I was there, remember?" 

She swallows down, and nods. 

"Sorry," she repeats, much softer this time. 

Aurora walks in silence, staring at the plane at the end of the hallway. 

She pretends to ignore the way Harry keeps glancing at her, or how he rubs the back of his neck, or how he rolls his shoulders. She knows she bothered him, and the idea of causing a scene when they're about to get into a plane feels terrifying. She should've kept her mouth shut, that way she wouldn't have them put them in that situation. Again.

It's like she's been riding on a rollercoaster she never knew she would get into in the first place. Going through multiple sudden changes of speed and directions. Slowly climbing a steep slope and painfully anticipating the fall before she actually drops directly into the ground. Holding herself during the unexpected tight turns and sharp curves, and gasping for air at every inverted loop. Experiencing the ups and downs of gravity as she's weightless and happy at the top of the hill, then all of a sudden her own personality is pushing her back down to reality. And by the end of it, the back of her throat hurts, her stomach feels funny, and there's just heaviness all over her body. 

"Hey," Harry calls. 

He shifts his bag from one shoulder to the other and puts his arm around her, pulling her closer even though they're still walking. He kisses the top of her head, and keeps his lips there as he speaks. "'M sorry. Shouldn't have cut you off like that."

Aurora shrugs. "It's fine." 

"It's not. We were just joking and I… I took it personally, 'm sorry."

He kisses her head, again, and her lashes flutter. 

She knows he's sorry, but she doesn't know what to say to him. She knows how easy it is for her to forgive when she shouldn't, and how many times in the last six years she believed in empty apologies. 

So although she knows, she isn't sure she can trust herself. 

She hasn't been trusting herself for a while now. 

A new flight attendant welcomes them into the plane, and they both pull away from each other.

Aurora walks in front of Harry, and she does her best to smile genuinely at the cheerful woman that's wishing them a good morning and a good flight. 

She holds the strap of her bag tightly on her shoulder, and walks through the narrow carpeted aisle, focusing on the numbers and letters above the seats as if she's looking for specific ones. She pauses here and there for other passengers that are getting settled, and it's only past the emergency door that Harry speaks again.

"Should we sit here?" he asks. He's pointing to the opposite side where she's facing, so she turns around, finding three empty seats.  

"Okay." 

She nods, and tilts her chin up to check the space to put her bag. Harry is quicker, though, because he is already closing his fingers around the strap on her shoulder and pushing it away from her arm.

"I'll put our bags together, yeah?" 

She doesn't want to fight him about it, so she simply thanks him with the best smile she can offer and allows him to easily grab her duffel bag. 

She slides through the two empty seats to reach the one by the window, not waiting any longer to secure the seat belt and make herself comfortable. Once she's settled, she clasps her hands together, and takes a deep breath in. Her chin trembles, and she looks down, biting the inside of her cheek. She doesn't want to cry again. She really doesn't want to cry again.

Also, she needs to sleep. She must get some sleep. There is absolutely no way she is going to handle spending the entire day awake, and if she doesn't sleep now, she'll only get an opportunity again at the yacht — meaning she won't get to spend any time with her friends. 

Harry sits next to her and puts his own belt on, then turns off his phone and shoves it into his pocket. Aurora doesn't look at him, but he turns sideways anyway, leaning his shoulder on the back of the seat and blocking them from any possible curious eyes. 

He grabs one of her hands from her lap and takes her fingers to his mouth, placing a long kiss to her knuckles before sighing. 

"Auri, love," his voice is soft, and a whisper for only them to hear, "I really am sorry." 

She nods, taking her free hand to wipe a tear before it could roll down her cheek.  

Shit.

"Please, don't cry."

"Mhm."

"Auri… Look at me, please."

She shakes her head, then. Because she knows that she'll fall apart all over again if she looks at him.

God, she's so tired.

"I didn't…" she murmurs, then takes a deep breath and tries again. "I didn't mean anything bad by the age thing… I promise."

"I know that, love. Of course I know," he says, pressing another kiss to her hand. "Fuck. I know. We were just joking. And I'm not mad about it, I promise. I mean, I was actually a stupid hormonal teenager back when we met, so yeah… You're right, things were different. But please, Auri, I hate that I made you cry just because I… Shit, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. It wasn't about you, I promise."

She stares at her knees and nods, because she knows he is. And she also knows she can trust him, which is probably why she — finally — honestly blurts out, "I keep messing everything up, y'know? All the time."

He brushes his thumb on the back of her hand, then murmurs back to her, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I just… I keep letting everyone down, and I hate it, but it's like I can't stop it. And I mean, to be honest I don't… I don't even recognize myself anymore. I used to have so much fun, and I felt so different about life… And I treated people around me so differently… And now I'm just… I don't know… I don't know why I say things, or why I do things. I don't know what I want, or what to do with my life… And I feel so… Lonely… All the damn time. But I get why I'm lonely, y'know? I mean it's true that I don't know how to be anything else besides being Noah's mum. And I'm so insensitive to other people because of that, and I keep saying things I shouldn't and I just… I look back and I realize how I pushed everyone away… How I… I don't know, I'm so tired of this. I'm just so tired of myself."

There is a pause between them, mostly because Harry's waiting for the people in front of them to settle and stop prying at their conversation. 

It's good, though, because it gives her time to catch her breath again.

And then, Harry leans deeper into his seat, still holding tightly to her hand.

"Is that how he made you feel?"

Aurora furrows her brows. "What—Who?"

"Zack. Is that how Zack made you feel?"

"I… No! Why—I mean, I'm just… I'm talking about myself." 

"Auri, c'mon… I know you're talking about yourself, but I can read between the lines."

She closes her eyes and takes her hand up to her face, rubbing her forehead while she prepares herself to just keep blurting out what her mind is begging her to tell him.

"I think…" she says, dropping her hand back to her lap and blinking. "I think he really messed me up, y'know?"

Harry sighs. 

It takes him a moment to say something. A moment that feels really, really long to her. 

And then… 

"Fuck." He puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her to his chest, murmuring while resting his cheek on the back of her head, "I'm sorry."

She shrugs, snuggling into him and searching for his heartbeat, just like before.

"'S not your fault."

"But I should've been there for you."

"You wouldn't have known." 

"Still… This isn't how it was supposed to be." 

God, she's so tired… 

Her entire body is heavy, and she doesn't even know what's happening around them anymore. She can't even make sense of their conversation anymore. 

Harry feels too cozy, though, and she knows she's about to have the comfiest sleep of her life — she can feel it.  

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"I got divorced six months ago."

Harry closes his eyes, then rearranges himself on his seat and pulls her closer to him.

"I know."

.

.

.

"You know? How?" 

"Niall."

"Oh. Okay?" 

"I texted him while you were getting your coffee."

She places her hands on his hips, holding her weight to pull away from him. 

Harry doesn't let her, though, squeezing her inside of his arms and locking her in. 

"Please stay," he murmurs. 

And Aurora doesn't fight him. She just relaxes again — she relaxes and listens to him. 

"You weren't wearing a ring… And I could tell something was up, so I… I asked him. That's all. Sorry if I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. I needed to know."

"Oh…" The concept of time is foggy inside her mind, but she's pretty sure a few seconds go by before she speaks again. "'S okay, I guess. I mean… Niall knows about the divorce, but he doesn't… He doesn't know the whole story. He doesn't know how bad it was."

"Does anyone know?"

"You?" She chuckles, but it's humorless, because she knows that not even Harry truly knows. "I just… I haven't been able to talk about it yet, or like… Process it, I think. I don't know. I keep justifying him a lot, which I'm learning it's something I shouldn't do."

He makes his cheek comfortable on top of her head, then takes one hand to play with her hair, scratching her scalp. "It can't be easy to go through something like this on your own, tho."

"I know…" She closes her eyes, appreciating his affectionate touch. "My mum's helping me a lot… She had to go back home now, but she spent over a month with me. Makes sure I don't skip therapy… Stuff like that."

"Hmm…" Harry says, and his voice echoes inside her body. "Always liked her. Smart one."

Aurora curls her mouth up. "Yeah…" 

Another moment goes by, and Aurora is filled with lightness as her body slowly drifts into sleep. 

"Thank you for telling me this, Auri."

"Mhmm… It's weird… To like, talk about it."

"I'll always listen. Whenever you want to talk about it, I'll listen."

"Thank you… 'M really tired, tho... And I think my brain is going to explode…"

Harry chuckles. "Get some sleep, yeah? I'll wake you up when we're about to land."

"'Mkay." She hugs his waist, and nuzzles against his chest. "Can't believe this all happened and we didn't even leave the country yet."

"Tell me about it."

"Mm… 'Kay… I'll sleep now… You're comfy… And I think… I feel drunk…"

Chuckling again, Harry presses a kiss on the top of her head, then slides down a bit on his seat, and she cuddles a little bit more into him.

"Ok love," he says. "You can relax now, I got you." 

And although Aurora doesn't answer, she knows he does. 

She doesn't need Harry to wake her up. 

Her brain drifts back to consciousness by itself, slowly making her aware of her surroundings way before the plane is even close to landing. 

She's warm, because of Harry's arms wrapped around her shoulders, but also because of his jacket covering her body. Her face is pressed against his shirt, and once again she's breathing from his skin. He still smells good — like a fresh shower — but now it's also mixed with a little bit of sweat, so it's somehow even better than before. 

It's hot. He's hot. Her insides feel hot.

She's also comfortable — so, so comfortable. It feels like she just took the best nap of her entire life. Like she's enveloped by a sense of calm and peace, a feeling that she doesn't want at all to end. Snuggled into his chest while his fingers keep playing with her hair, tracing random patterns on the back of her head. The movements are sweet, sweet enough to tempt her to go back to sleep. And she almost does. 

Except she can't. Not anymore. 

Because above all that, she can tell she's also kind of desperate. Clingy. Needy. Hugging his waist as if their flight landing in Italy depended on how tight her grip is. Both of her legs over his left thigh. His strong, firm thigh. She's holding onto him like a baby koala. A troubled one. A baby koala that's craving to be held by someone. Anyone. And as if she's terrified of the idea of being left behind while her mind shuts off from the real world. 

And maybe she is. Who knows.

She always liked to cuddle, and she hasn't properly cuddled in a really long time, so it's not a surprise. Still, it very quickly becomes embarrassing, and certainly not how Harry imagined things to go when, earlier in the airport, he offered his shoulder for her to take a quick nap. 

He offered his shoulder, not his entire body, for fucks sake!

So, against all wishes, Aurora stirs and groans — mostly because her mind is battling between sleeping for just two more minutes or acknowledging the reality of the world she's in — then pulls away from him. 

"Hmm…" She takes her hands up to her face, and rubs the last traces of sleepiness away from her puffy eyes, then sits back on her seat. "What time is it?" 

Next to her, Harry moves as well, withdrawing his arms from around her shoulders and placing his hands on his lap. 

"Must be around ten thirty now… Last time I checked was ten fifteen."

He sounds calm, so calm that she can't make any emotion out of his voice, so she turns her head to look at him.

Harry looks fully awake. Well rested. Peaceful. Soft. The only sign of him turning into her personal pillow are the wrinkles all over his shirt, but everything else looks… Perfect. Like heaven. He looks like heaven.   

"Hi…" He curls one side of his mouth up, and Aurora smiles, too.

"Hi…"

Only then it occurs to her that she's been staring at him, and she looks away, taking her hands to smooth out her hair then fix her dress.

"Did you sleep well?"

She nods, and takes his jacket off, instead using it like a blanket to cover her chest.

"Um, yeah… I did. Thanks. And thanks for… You know… Letting me crush on you? I mean, it probably wasn't comfortable for you, so… Yeah, thanks."

Harry scoffs, shuffling down on his seat and spreading his legs as wide open as he can. 

"Are you kidding me?" He takes both arms up and places his hands behind his head, resting on top of the palm of his hands. "You're a great cuddler. Went straight to my top five of all time."

The playfulness is clear in his words, which is why Aurora chuckles. Still, one question is loud and clear inside her mind: who are the other four great cuddlers? And most importantly, why isn't she his favorite one? 

The thoughts bring an uncomfortable feeling to her stomach, and she shifts on her seat. 

"That's kind of you to say, but you should see me during winter in the middle of the night… I'm like a baby koala and it's not a very pretty sight." 

"Huh." He smirks, and lifts his eyebrows. "Is that an offer?"

Aurora snorts and rolls her eyes, feeling her cheeks burn before she looks away. "Shut up."

Harry laughs, and just like that, everything between them goes back to normal. 

Getting into conversation with him is easy. Neither of them have seen their friends in a while, so they distract themselves by reminiscing old stories and laughing at silly things they used to do together. They also talk about Italy, about how neither of them have been to the country before, and how it's been a dream of both of them. They bond over small details, and find connections over silly things. And it's exactly what Aurora needs, as she finds out after minutes and minutes of light conversation and genuine giggles. 

It is only when they're about to land that her face falls again. 

Fully awake, the airplane movements become way more obvious than they did when taking off. And as soon as the belt sign goes on, and the pilot announces they're about to descend to Naples, Aurora's heartbeat speeds up.

She straightens up and leans her back fully against her seat, looking through the window at the bright sky. 

"Are you ok?" Harry asks. 

"Mhm…" She nods, and doesn't take her eyes off from the view. "Just… I don't like this part very much, that's all."

"Wanna hold my hand?" 

It is a nice offer, but one she doesn't think she should accept. So she doesn't. And as the plane gets closer and closer to land, every movement becomes even more clear. When it shakes, when it turns, when it's getting ready to touch the ground. 

She holds herself until the last minute. She holds herself tightly and firmly. Until it becomes too much, and one specific up and down of the airplane has her reaching for his hand.

It's like Harry is already waiting for her, to be honest, because she finds him quickly. Her sweaty and cold palm meets his warm one, and she turns her head to look at him. 

He's already watching her, and as soon as their eyes meet, his face lights up with a smile. 

Her belly quivers, and her chest tightens. 

"It'll be over in a minute," he says, squeezing her hand.

She nods, and swallows down, because it's the only thing she can do right now. She knows what he's talking about, and she knows it's true — they'll land, and everything will pass. 

Although something tells her that, whatever she's feeling right now, will not go away. It won't be over in a minute. It won't be over even when they're out and away from the plane. 

In fact, she's starting to believe that, as soon as Harry is next to her, looking at her like that, the fluttering in her stomach will never go away. 

if you've made it here, say caramel coffee :')

also, thank you for reading.

dani :)

PART THREE

[kaicubus]

Being with Victor Van Dort

₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊ ───────────── ₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊ ─────────────── ₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊

warnings ✩° : fluff headcanons, no cursing, sweet victor, some implied sexual headcanons but it's not a sexual movie i just LOVE victor so bad ugh i need him, kaicubus british accent.

pairing ✩° : victor van dort x mostly gn!reader

authors note ✩° : nothing is done about him so as usual, i'm stepping up to the plate. tall skinny emo boy IM COMING FOR YOU. why do i want to do more? thinks. i'm trying to get my halloween fics out guys i promise...

────────────────────────────────────────────

To say Victor would do anything for you in and outside of his power is such an understatement. He has such little power in what he does compared to other people, especially suitable bachelors, but he tries so hard with what he has.

You two meet because your parents need you two to be wed, so of course, he's a stranger. A very kind, and understanding stranger who at times feels like he's so brittle around you he'll break at any second.

He bumps into you? Victor scurries away. You look at him? Victor slams himself into the wall in the process. He kind of loses composure around you.

When he warms up to you eventually, Victor actually talks about his interests a lot. You find out he's an excellent musician, talented in piano and violin, an exceptional artist, and he's an avid reader who enjoys dark poetry.

He's still very insecure about the idea of you loving him or at least liking him, but he'll never bother you with questions because he doesn't want to seem needy (but he is so needy). If his insecurities do get the best of him, Victor will ask gently, "Do you actually like me? If not, I get it. I'm not rich nor strong enough to support and provide for us, I just want to be sure." Of course, you answer him honestly and he's over the moon when you tell him you actually do love him.

Victor notices things about you that no one else would notice, like the amount of moles you have on your left arm, if you prefer crowded areas or not, and if you cut your hair just a few inches to the point where it's not even that noticeable.

Speaking of, if you're ever at a ball or a place where there's a lot of people and you're not comfortable with crowds, Victor will take you away to a secluded area and calm you down from there.

He is overly apologetic. Sometimes it gets slightly annoying with how much he does it, but you never react negatively and always reassure him. Victor will apologize even if you're the one who caused something, blaming it all on himself so you don't feel bad at all.

Victor's love language is surely words of affirmation as he loves to give you endearing complements but also he feels good receiving them. He doesn't expect anything, because that's the least of your worries he thinks, but even so much as a simple flick of his hair and saying how nice it looks that day drives him absolutely mad.

However, when he compliments you, he's never short of charming. Victor catches you off guard sometimes when he reminds you how 'ravishing you look' or 'how you put the stars to shame with your glittering smile.' Usually he draws parallels with you and the stars, moon, sun, or flowers. He always makes you feel seen.

Naturally, as your husband, Victor is protective over you. He's never one to start a fight over a worthless scum trying to flirt with you, but he's not shy to let his presence be known and to grab you by the waist into his thin frame.

Calls you my love, darling, my beloved, and gorgeous.

Loves receiving. Victor will never ask anything of you, sure, but he won't deny it when it happens. He loves being kissed first, he loves being pulled down to kiss you, he loves being marked in hickeys especially on his collar bone, all of that.

One very specific thing is that Victor really enjoys dressing you and putting your makeup on. There's just something about the silent intimacy of sliding on your dress, gliding the thin fabric of tights on, tightening your corset, and delicately lining your lips with a dark, rose red lipstick that he loves so much. Even if he can't do the whole outfit, you'll still allow him to do your makeup or brush your hair.

Victor also likes things a very specific way. Not that he's controlling, he's far from it, but little things like overlined or underlined lipstick makes him fidgety. He'll swipe his thumb over your cupid's bow if that's the case and pretend like nothing happened.

He writes long, lengthy love letters. Sometimes explicit ones if he isn't there with you. He's uh, good at writing!

Victor shivers a lot. Take that as you will.

Loves painting portraits of you.

[roosterforme]

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 7 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Your weekend is over and you say goodbye to Bradley, but you both hope that it won't be another ten years before seeing each other again. Bradley was desperate for more of you, and this time, he'd make sure to do whatever he needed to get it. He just needs you to fulfill your end of the deal first.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, swears, and angst

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

You didn't want to move. Ever. You just wanted to lay here on top of Bradley on your bed in your little house. Keep him with you forever. 

This moment was too perfect. His hands rubbed your back underneath the soft fabric of his Grateful Dead shirt, and he was singing to you. He was singing the lyrics of your tattoo, with something extra added on.

You don't know how easy it is to love you, Sugar.

Part of you wanted to fall asleep like this, absorbing his body heat, and his voice, and his love. But you didn't know for sure when you'd get to see him again. You didn't want to think about the possibility that you might not. 

Because admitting that you loved each other ten years ago and saying you still felt that way now.... well, that didn't necessarily mean that you and Bradley would be able to mesh your separate lives together into something you could both live with. Although, this weekend that you got to spend reunited with him did feel more serendipitous than you'd like to admit. Your mind was still reeling, still searching for the logic in this situation.  

When Bradley stopped singing and you felt his fingers at the back of your neck, you sighed and let yourself enjoy this moment. After you pressed your lips to his scars, you asked him, "Will you send me those selfies you texted to Nat?"

Bradley studied your face, and even with the soft lighting, you could tell his cheeks were flushing with color. "Sure." He kissed you gently and then slipped out from under you to retrieve his phone from the bathroom while you located yours under a pile of discarded clothing on your floor. 

"What is it?" you asked, when he sprawled out on your bed once more. "You're blushing right now, Beer Boy."

He handed you his unlocked phone and cleared his throat as you crawled over next to him. "You can send them to yourself. I already saved them to a folder."

"Okay," you said, taking his phone and looking at the wallpaper, which was a picture of his Super Hornet. "Which folder?" 

You tapped on the photo gallery and it opened to neatly organized pictures with labels and dates. He had things pertaining to his aircraft, one labeled 'House Projects', and then you saw one that made you suck in a short breath.

There was a folder labeled 'Sugar' at the top of the gallery. 

"You have a whole folder of...me?"

He just nodded, his brows furrowed now. "The passcode is your birthday. Text whatever you want to yourself." You could tell he was trying for a tone of nonchalance, but it wasn't translating as cool as he probably thought it was. You typed in your four digit birthday, and the folder opened.

At the top you saw the selfies he had taken just a few hours ago, the ones he sent to his best friend. You started to select them, but then decided to scroll down to see more. 

"I thought you said you had one picture of us that you showed to Nat and Bob," you whispered, but Bradley just shrugged.

The folder was filled with candid shots of you from ten years ago at frat parties and in the library study room. There were some where you were smiling and biting your lip, others where you were concentrating on a textbook and paying him no mind. He had even taken a picture of his bedroom door at some point, on which he had written 'SUGAR what's your number?'

"Bradley," you whispered, but he was running his hand through his hair and looking at the ceiling. The pictures you had taken to make Phoebe jealous were all there, too. You and he were in the kitchen at the Beta house, enjoying your fake spring break together. There were photos of you kissing and licking his lips, one of you sucking melted chocolate off of his fingers, and several of Bradley touching and kissing your bare breasts. 

"I took those to make Phoebe jealous," you whispered, looking at him while he still avoided your gaze. "I thought you would have deleted them."

He shook his head. "Couldn't bring myself to. Couldn't delete any of them."

You paused for a beat, looking at a selfie of the two of you a few weeks before graduation. He was standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his chin resting on your shoulder. You both looked unbelievably happy. 

"Did your other girlfriends mind that you kept these?"

Bradley rolled his eyes at you. "Why do you think it has a passcode? None of them knew about it."

You bit your lip and inched closer until your knees were bumping his side. "Do you have a folder for each of your other ex girlfriends, too?" you asked softly. 

Bradley finally reached for you, pulling you so you were straddling his lap and looking down at him. "You see any other folders in there?"

You didn't need to scroll to know he only had a folder of you, so you shook your head and started selecting all of the pictures in the 'Sugar' folder to send to yourself. 

"It's just you," Bradley whispered. "I've only ever been in love with you."

You hit send and leaned down to kiss him while your phone lit up across the bed. 

"I can't fucking believe I could have been texting you this whole time," he said as you kissed his cheek. "I figured you'd blocked me permanently. Or that you had a different phone number. I thought you were probably married."

You laughed and asked, "Would you have really texted me?"

"Hell no," Bradley replied, holding you against him. "Couldn't deal with the disappointment of you not remembering who I was."

You kissed him for a long time. Eventually you both slipped under the blankets, rolling onto your sides and sharing the softest touches. Every gentle brush of his lips against yours felt like the promise he made to you, felt like he would wait to hear your answer after you visited both schools.

"You think I could forget you? I've only ever been in love with you too, Bradley."

------------------------

Every time Bradley pulled you close to him, you lit him up with your laughter. "I don't want to leave," he whined over and over again as you and he made breakfast together on Sunday morning. He couldn't stop touching you through the soft fabric of his old shirt. "Fuck the Navy. I'm staying here."

"You don't mean that," you said with a smile. "Don't you miss your friends? And your Super Hornet?" You were being coy now, and he didn't know if it was because you were going to miss him too, or because you wanted to know where you ranked.

Bradley groaned dramatically. "I don't miss Nat. She was downright sweet to you when you were texting last night. But she's never that nice to me. And I guess I miss flying, but pretty soon, I'll be doing that every day for six weeks."

"That's true, I suppose."

While you tried to plate some pancakes, Bradley whispered, "I'd rather be doing you every day for six weeks."

You giggled and looked up at him over your shoulder. "You always were smooth, Beer Boy. Too smooth for your own good. But does that mean you'll be thinking about me at night? On the aircraft carrier? When you're tired and unable to sleep?"

His eyes drifted closed. Now he had a whole arsenal of images he just knew would be circulating through his mind; 21 year old Sugar and 31 year old Sugar. Both too sweet for him, but exactly what he wanted. 

"Not only then. I'll be thinking about you a lot. Waiting to hear from you as soon as I dock back in San Diego."

You fed him bites of pancake while he caged you in against the kitchen counter. "How will I know when you get back? Do they tell you the date ahead of time?"

"Yeah, but sometimes it changes according to the weather and mission parameters. I'll text you as soon as I can. Don't worry about that. You can tell me about the schools, and we can talk on the phone and catch up."

"Okay," you agreed, setting the food off to the side and wrapping your arms around him. And now Bradley was feeling guilty again. He shouldn't be talking to you like this right now. There were too many things up in the air. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking of ways to get a transfer to Florida if you picked Miami. He couldn't live without you now. 

He took your face in both of his hands, running his thumb along your swollen lips and smiling at the dark smudges under your eyes. Neither of you had slept much last night, and Bradley had been kissing you almost nonstop. "I love you, Sugar."

Your eyes drifted closed briefly before you nodded against his hands. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"I don't know if I can stop now."

"Don't."

---------------------------

After you ate, you spent hours in your bed with Bradley, talking and touching each other. Your words grew softer, and you found yourself clinging to him a bit more as the morning turned to early afternoon. You were laughing, and he was kissing your shoulder when suddenly a soft sob escaped your lips. 

He pulled back to look up at you, but you just shook your head. "I don't want you to leave."

Then he was looking at you like he was in agony. "I would stay if I could. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Our timing kind of sucks, but maybe we can figure it all out. You're smart, Sugar," he murmured as his lips found your tattoos. "You'll figure it out and let me know where I stand." When you opened your mouth to tell him you could figure it all out right now, he kissed your lips. "But not yet," he added. 

Did this man really think you'd fall in love with Miami more than you loved him? You almost laughed, but then he was sucking on one of the spots on your neck that was still tender from last night's activities. 

"Bradley," you whined softly. He was hard and pressing against your clit just right. His tongue and lips were soothing your neck only to be met with his prickly mustache. 

"I need to leave soon, baby. Tell me how you need it."

The most unholy moan left your lips, and you were surprised you could sound that needy. "Slow. Just go slow."

He nodded against you, sliding through your silky wetness and entering you so leisurely, it somehow felt filthy. When you tried to press up against him to take him faster and deeper, Bradley scolded you.

"No, no. You're getting it slow, Sugar. It's what you need. I need it, too."

"Fuck," you gasped, winding your fingers in his pretty hair while he spread your pussy wide, squeezing your thighs. "Bradley."

And you knew this might be your last time with him like this. At least for a while. 

--------------------------------

Bradley was in heaven, basking in the little sounds you made just for him. You had told him he was the best and that you still loved him. But he wanted to be your only one.  

As he worked his thumb softly along your clit, he paused his ministrations each time he felt you clench around him. "Please." Your voice was soft and broken, and after he'd taken you close but not all the way a few times, you were begging. "Bradley."

He responded by kissing his name on your lips and tasting your tongue. He swiped his fingers against your clit just the way you liked it best, and you anchored yourself to him with your fingers tugging on his hair.

"Shh, nice and slow," he grunted next to your ear, and once again you were clenching around him. Your moans were building like a crescendo, and soon he was panting just like you were. "I love you. I'd wait forever to be with you again."

He watched a tear leak from the corner of your eye, and he kissed it away as you came on his cock. Bradley rocked into you slowly, watching you squeeze your eyes shut as he filled you up, rubbing his lips and mustache along your neck. 

Finally you were looking up at him again, and he was just as mesmerized by your beautiful, expressive face now as he had been in college. Your voice was soft and spent as you whispered, "I love you, too, Beer Boy."

But he knew it was time to leave you. The idea of being away from you again had him panicking like it did before. What if you changed your mind while he was gone for six weeks? Completely out of contact with you? "I'm not going anywhere, Sugar. But I do need to leave."

"I understand." You smiled softly at him, and then your lip quivered as your eyes filled with tears. Bradley withdrew himself from the comfort of your body and wrapped you in his arms. 

"I'll text you when I get back. You can let me know when you're able to call me, and we can figure this shit out, okay? I'll text you before I even text Nat, and she's the one who's supposed to pick me up."

You laughed softly against his ear. "Promise me you'll be safe when you're deployed."

He kissed your temple. "Sugar, you know I can't promise you that. But I can promise you that I love you now, and I will still love you in six weeks no matter what happens." He held onto you until the last possible minute, knowing he'd miss his flight if he waited any longer. 

When he stood up and started to gather his clothes, you tracked his movements with your eyes. "I'll come to the airport with you. I can Uber back," you told him, jumping out of bed and pulling on the tie dyed shirt and some shorts. 

Bradley watched you move around your bedroom, slipping on shoes and grabbing your purse before tucking yourself against his chest. 

"We're just prolonging the inevitable, baby."

"I don't care," you replied defiantly. "I'll get an extra thirty minutes with you."

The way you could make Bradley's heart soar left him grinning. "Alright, Sugar. Let's get me to the airport."

The ride was quiet, but you held his hand in both of yours while he drove, and he sang a few Grateful Dead songs. "Sing me my song," you demanded softly, kissing his fingers. 

Bradley laughed softly. "You know, you're so perfect, Sugar, it probably was somehow written with you in mind." And then he sang for you until he pulled into the airport to return his rental car. 

You kept a firm hold on his hand until you walked him as far as you could go without a boarding pass. When Bradley set down his bag to give you a proper goodbye, your lips were immediately on his. "I love you, Beer Boy," you whispered between kisses. The brush of your lips against his mustache had him holding you tight against him, and he dug his fingers gently into the back of your neck. He kissed you so hard, you were moaning into his mouth, swiping his tongue with yours.

"I never stopped loving you," he panted, breaking away and resting his cheek against your forehead. "You seemed like a mirage the other night, at the bar. I never thought I'd get a chance to look at you again."

You laughed softly. "You can do more than look at me, Bradley. Anytime you want."

Bradley wanted a commitment now. He could feel in his very bones how right that would be. But this wasn't the time for it. "Remember what you promised me."

You nipped along his jaw, saying, "I'll look at both schools, Lieutenant Bradshaw. And then I will report back to you when you are once again on dry land."

"That's my girl," he crooned, and your gaze met his with so many unspoken questions and answers. "I'll be thinking about you. Just like I always do." He kissed your cheek and then pressed his lips to your mouth in one final kiss before getting in line for security. You stood there in his favorite shirt and watched him until you couldn't see him any longer, your arms wrapped around your midsection while you cried. 

He used his phone to call you a ride back to your house and texted you the information. You wrote back right away. 

This was the best weekend of my life.

------------------------

You were so antsy to talk to Bradley. You were thinking about him all the time now. As you sat on your desk in your office, eating a sandwich and looking at your packed boxes, you wondered if he was eating dinner. Or maybe it was the middle of the night where he was. Maybe he was thinking about you, too.

This room reminded you of him, and he had only been here once. This desk especially reminded you of him. When you passed Ted, the security guard on your way in earlier, you thought about Bradley while Ted blushed and greeted you softly. 

And that's how it had been for the past two weeks. You had Beer Boy on your mind almost nonstop. Sure, he'd popped into your thoughts pretty frequently over the last ten years, but this was overpowering. Now that you knew you could reach him by phone if you wanted to, you hated that he was deployed and out of contact. 

You sighed, giving in to your urge once more to scroll through Nat's Instagram page. You had already memorized every post with Bradley in it, but it didn't hurt to look once more. And then you told yourself it would be okay to look at all of the photos that had been in his secret Sugar folder. 

You had to tip your head back and press your lips together to keep from moaning, because just the thought of Bradley keeping those pictures for ten years made you want him badly. 

And then started the vicious cycle of hating deployments. 

"Fuck," you groaned, tucking your phone away. You would drop your boxes off with your friend Veronica, and then you had another week in Virginia before you started your adventure. 

First stop, Miami.

-------------------

Bradley was laying in his tiny bed aboard the USS Ronald Reagan, thinking about you. He wondered if you were in Miami or San Diego yet. He wondered if you had visited either of the schools. He wondered if you had made a decision and how he would fit into it. 

He was halfway through his deployment, and it had been so boring. Even though he desperately wanted to talk to you, he had decided to give you some space while he was gone. So instead, he'd used his one facetime call to talk to Nat, but he had spent most of it catching her up on his weekend in Virginia.

"You're still in love with her," Nat had said with dreamy eyes. 

"Yes. I am still in love with her. And I've given her the power to break my heart a second time. Nat, I won't survive."

But in typical best friend fashion, she had been able to calm his nerves and tell him he needed to focus on work for now and give you some space. He would give you as much time and space as you wanted or needed, if he just knew for sure he could see you again.

------------------------

They parted ways, and I want to cry. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

[jymwahuwu]

this post aaaa!! i just think about reader who tries to run away from jing yuan- but gets caught by blade. blade is given the choice to watch jing yuan spank you and play with your body for returning you unharmed. i feel like he might like to watch that ;////;

Wren thanks for giving me ideas!! I've been thinking about this since you sent it to me. How do you keep being so creative😣😫❤️‍🔥💕 And, finally, I can write about being spanked by Jing Yuan...

CW: afab reader, yandere, non-con, kidnapping, failed escape, spanking without consent, edging, humiliation

Blade glanced at you once, far away. At that time, you stood beside Jing Yuan, lowered your head, and clasped your fingers tightly with him. He really couldn't see your expression clearly, but according to the rumors, General Jing Yuan spoiled his wife, so he guessed that you might be bowing your head shyly, with loving words on your lips and a slight smile.

His reason for remembering you is - you are standing in front of him now, gasping for breath, with tears on your eyelashes, your legs trembling like autumn leaves after running and evading capture (as if you have been pampered for hundreds of years). You put your hands on his arms, but without using any force, beg him to send you to another planet. A submissive gesture. Pleading, like it's your forte. Blade thought.

"Why should I help you?" He sneered.

"Jing- Jing Yuan- He's not what you think- I want to leave. He won't allow it." Hearing the indifferent response from the member of Stellaron Hunters, your heart dropped into freezing point. "I remember you. I've seen you. I'll give you money- or anything you want- if you'll help me."

"It's ridiculous to bargain with a prey that can't even escape the hunt. But…" For some reason, Blade's heart itched at the fact that you still remembered him, but shook his head. He has more interesting things to do. Jing Yuan. How precious are you to him?

-

"Oh baby, I'm worried about you!!" Dragged into the master bedroom of the general's mansion by this member of Stellaron Hunters, the tears on your cheeks are still wet, and your other hand is desperately grabbing the door frame like a kitty grab. Jing Yuan, who was pacing back and forth, stood up immediately, and embraced you with open arms. "Are you okay? Are you hungry? Where did you go? You…"

"Payment." Blade interrupted his affectionate chatter, holding his sword, reminding. "Jing Yuan, remember your promise."

"Hmm…" The general glanced at him with his glowing golden eyes, his frown loosened, and gradually, it turned into a condescending mockery, mocking you for falling into such a situation. yet like misses the time hundreds of years ago. "Interesting. It's been a long time. You and I, who would have thought that this meeting would happen under such circumstances? Don't worry, I always value promises. Now that you have sent her back unscathed, redeem the promise."

After speaking, he turned to you again. "Strip naked."

Like being struck by lightning, your mind swoons and you can't believe what your ears are hearing. "what? What?"

"This is the reward that guy asked for." The general took your hand and led you to the sofa. He smiled. "You think I don't know you're trying to escape? Come on. Baby, strip for a show. Or, shall I help you?"

Knowing him, you can't escape fate. Slowly and reluctantly, you unbuttoned your clothes, and lifted your top…and then took off half of the fabric…the underwear trembled and folded, and put them on the sofa. Jing Yuan waited with a smile on his chin, then reached out and pulled you onto his lap. You just suddenly realize that it's not, it's…

Slap on your left buttock. The loud sound is accompanied by a warning of pain. The tears you have been holding back welled up in your eyes. Spanking! He spanked you in front of Blade?

"No!" you struggle, "This hurts!"

"Shhhhh, hold back, baby. This is just the beginning." The general's tone was still gentle, but you knew it meant irresistible. He stroked your buttocks and cheeks to ease the pain, and the stormy slaps began. His palm hits your burning skin. Loud, continuous slapping, accompanied by sobbing and moaning, echoed through the master bedroom.

Recognize that there is one person watching all this. Your cheeks are burning, kicking your legs. "Stop this…please…"

"Look at him." The hand that was originally holding your waist turned to your hair, hesitated for a while, didn't grab your hair, but pinched your chin, forcing you to look at that Stellaron Hunter. The immortal swordsman folded his arms, with an obscure smile on his face, and the corners of his mouth slightly curved like a crescent moon, obviously getting a kind of satisfaction - knowing that these Xianzhou people, especially Jing Yuan, have such a side. Rotten from the inside. Sanctimonious.

You, looking back at him in tears and slaps. This is so embarrassing. Why did Jing Yuan treat you like this? You thought that, like the previous escape, there would be no terrible consequences. While heating up your ass, Jing Yuan didn't forget to run his fingers over your slit and draw circles on your clit. Pain and pleasure emerge, jockeying for position. Realizing the orgasm is building, you poke your ass out involuntarily, but in that momentous moment, like pressing the brake button. The caresses suddenly stopped. Only leaving a new round of spanking to begin. Didn't get the expected orgasm. Your lips quiver and whine, unable to hold a decent sob, instead wailing and turning into a mess.

Not only Jing Yuan squinted his eyes with a smile, Blade took pleasure in your reaction. You are so pathetic. Lovely. Fragile. Sweet. He kind of understands why Jing Yuan is addicted to you. You deserve to be in this predicament.

Jing Yuan does another two or three rounds like this, you wriggling on his legs, not getting any orgasms, sniffling. Even more frightening, you find that Blade has unzipped his trousers and is stroking himself in front of you.

"You-you...!!" You were dumbfounded.

The general snorted. A harsh slap calls your attention back to punishment. You gasped and screamed, another stream of tears fell on the couch, promised. "I'm sorry...!! I will never run away again...!!" However, this time there was no waiting for the caress. Jing Yuan also untied the pants chain, pinched your ass with one hand, and the thick cock sank into your tight vagina until it reached the cervix.

You start to lose sense of order or logic, and just open your mouth to bear the pounding from behind. Unlike spanking, this time there is the sound of wet liquid dripping on the sofa. "Jing- Jing Yuan...!!" While calling his name, your upper body is lying on the sofa, and the walls are tightened to receive those seeds. Almost at the same time, that load is also sprayed on your face, forcing your eyes to not fully open. It's from Blade.

Totally, insulted.

[gizmo-writes]

caught | spencer reid

warnings: kidnapping, allusion to rape, loss of virginity (not by choice), guns, fuck or die trope, being shot, crying, pain, concussion, spencer is the biggest sweet heart, hospitals, talk of Spencer's trauma, happy ending?

special shout out to @imagining-in-the-margins they are an amazing writer! they inspired me to write this so a huge huge thank you to them!

Your head pounded, you felt light headed and dizzy. You tried to open your eyes but your head hurt too much. The cold floor grounded you, it was a nice constant. You could hear a voice but couldn't quite place it, it echoed in your mind only making your head hurt more. You groaned, you couldn't get up, everything hurt too much. And there was that damned voice again, speaking way too loudly for your comfort. "Please stop," you whimpered, your body ached to the point that you felt nauseous. "Y/n, please.. tell me you're okay," the voice said but once again you groaned. "Shh," you said, trying to get them to stop speaking.

You faintly heard the noise of a lock clicking but you didn't quite understand what it meant. But before you could even think, you felt hands on your body. The hands were gentle on your arms, trying to help you move but you didn't want to. "It's me, y/n It's me. It's spencer. Talk to me." He said. Spencer, oh thank god it was spencer. "Stop, i don't wanna move," you said, voice shaking. "Okay, okay. We won't move, im just gonna put your head in my lap." He said. Once again, you were groaning as he did so. You could feel him moving but you refused to open your eyes. He placed the fabric of his sweater on your forehead, you must've been bleeding, that's the only reason he'd do that. "Can you open your eyes? I need to check if you have a concussion." Spencer said. You whined, "it hurts, everything hurts." You said. "I know, I know but I need to know you're okay. After that you can close your eyes again." He said. You forced your eyes open, looking up at spencer. You would've been so happy to see him but he looked horrible. He was disheveled and obviously been crying. He never cries, why was he crying?

"Follow my finger, okay baby?" He said. You did your best but it was hard. You kept having to close your eyes because the pain was too much. Spencer sighed, giving up, "you probably have a concussion. You can close your eyes now. Just relax, I've got you." He said, petting your hair gently in hopes it would help you relax. "What happened?" You asked after a few moments of silence. "The unsub we've been hunting... he got us. But I'll keep you safe, i promise." He said. "Spencer, we- we've been through this. We don't make promises," you said softly. You were right and Spencer knew that. You two never made promises in hopes you two could never be let down by the inevitable broken promises. He never promised to be home on time due to the fact that it was almost impossible that he would be home on time. You never promised to stay up for him because it was so hard to stay up late in hopes he'd be home on time. Promises were almost never kept, it wasn't ever anyone's fault. You both knew that.

"Is the team on the way?" You asked, hoping, praying they were closer than you thought. Spencer sighed, he didn't answer, instead just leaning down and kissing the top of your head. That wasn't a good sign. "Just relax, remember how you've been planning that beach trip?" Spencer said. "That was supposed to be a surprise," you sighed softly. "I know, but I saw your laptop.. I've been thinking about it ever since. I've never liked the beach but i think with you.. I could really enjoy it. Finding a nice shady spot where I can read and you can drink your fancy little cocktails you enjoy so much," he smiled at the thought. You tried to giggle but it hurt, that sounded so nice, so perfect. "Now, i refuse to get into the water.. but I know you would too. The ocean is so vast, so unexplored. You've always hated the unknown but who doesn't. It's a common fear, just like the dark, it makes sense. But it'll be me and you, on a white sandy beach, reading, talking, drinking. It's perfect." He said, never stopping petting your hair.

He kept talking but you couldn't hear it. You started to doze off and he could tell by how your body relaxed. Part of him was worried that if you fell asleep, you might not wake up. But he knew you were strong, you just needed to rest and if you could sleep, then it was best that you did. He couldn't sleep, he refused. He would not let his guard down. He wasn't going to let someone else be taken away from him. It had happened too many times before, he couldn't let it happen again. He stayed vigilant, keeping an eye on your breathing while also looking around the dark room for any escape or any object he could use to protect the two of you. There was nothing, it was a dark room with a bed in the middle. Not a nice bed, just a mattress thrown onto the floor. He noticed the shackles and his stomach turned in knots, he didn't even wanna think about those being used, especially not on you.

He enjoyed the silence, being able to hear your soft breathing brought him solace. He was as comfortable as he could be in a moment like this. It did worry him how long it had been since the unsub had done anything. Was the unsub out? Was he not home, the team had profiled that the unsub had a family so it made sense he wasn't here. But he didn't know what time it was. It had to have been day if the unsub wasn't here. It meant he was either at work or with his family. But he dreaded when the unsub would be back. He knew a little about how it would go. The unsub took couples, made them have sex before he killed them. He never kept them longer than 3 days. The time was ticking and it was breaking his heart.

You woke up after maybe a couple of hours, you weren't sure. You felt somewhat better. Your body ached but not as badly, your head hurt but you were able to open your eyes. You looked up at spencer. "Spence?" You asked, gaining his attention. "Hey, how are you feeling?" He asked gently. "Better... or as much better as I can be." You sighed. "That's good, how's your head? It stopped bleeding." He said, examining the cut on your forehead. "It hurts but not as bad.." you said. You tried to move but spencer stopped you. "Hey, hey, take it slow." He said. He helped you sit up, very slowly. "There we go, can you look at me?" He asked. You did as he asked. He gave you a gentle smile, moving hair from your face. "You seem a little pale, how's your stomach?" He asked. "I'm nauseous.. but I think it's from the pain." You said. "I understand." He said.

There was a loud buzzing noise making you cover your ears, the noise made your head hurt. A door opened, spencer turned to see the unsub wearing a mask. He sat down a tray of food, along with a bottle of water. He pushed them into the room before slamming the door shut. The noise made you jump. You opened your eyes, uncovering your ears. "What is that?" You asked. "Food.. water.." spencer slowly stood. This was new.. the unsub never fed his victims, never kept them hydrated. The ME reporter the victims had no food in their system for three days. This wasn't right. Spencer grabbed the tray and the water and brought it over to you. You went to reach for the bread but spencer stopped you. "It might be poisonous.." he said, you nodded before pulling back. Spencer inspected the bottle of water, he knew you needed water. Dehydration would only make the concussion worse. It hadn't looked like it had been tampered with. No small holes to indicate poison. No broken seal to indicate it would be replaced with something else. He even took the label off to further investigate but it looked clean. "Okay, take sips. Don't chug it." Spencer said, opening the water. He brought it to your lips, you took the bottle with shaking hands and did as he said, only taking sips of the water.

He went back to the food, he didn't trust it but it also wouldn't make sense to poison it if he was planning on keeping the two of you. "I'm sorry y/n.. I don't think we should eat it. It's not safe, too many variables." He said. You nodded and watched as he pushed the tray to the side. You offered Spencer the water but he shook his head, "you need it baby. Keep taking sips." He said. You wanted to fight him but couldn't, you didn't have it in you. You took a few more sips before closing the bottle and setting it down. "Spence.." you looked around the room, finally taking in your surroundings. It was like he could read your mind, you didn't have to say you were scared. He already knew. He saw it in your eyes. He saw it in the way your hands trembled. "I know.. but it's okay to be scared. It's a natural reaction to what's happening." He explained. You nodded. You pulled your knees to your chest, trying to bring yourself comfort in the cold, dark room. Spencer placed the sweater he had used to stop your bleeding around your shoulders. You took it happily, cuddling into the warmth. "Are you scared?" You asked. Spencer would never admit it, he was ducking terrified. The unsub was deviating from his MO and he didn't know what it meant. He didn't even know if this was the same unsub at this point. His mind was racing and he was so scared but he'd never admit it. He knew you weren't a profiler so he knew he could hide his emotions from you. But he wandered if it was even a good idea. "A little," he admitted, but that's all he gave you.

He was thankful when you didn't push him any further. You took his answer as it was and he was thankful. He wasn't sure what would come next, he had been through so many hostage situations but nothing like this. Nothing where he was stuck with the woman he loved more than anything, nothing where he might be faced to have sex with the woman he loved in a place that he never wanted it to happen at. He had made so many plans in his mind about his first time with you but he never went through with any of them. Not because he didn't want to but because work or his own anxiety got in the way. But he knew for a fact that this wasn't how he wanted it to happen.

The silence quickly ended though when there was another loud buzz, the noise made you shake. Once again the door opened. "Bring me the tray." The unsub said. Spencer grabbed the tray but stopped when the unsub pulled out a gun, pointing it at spencer. "Not you, her." The gun was now pointed at you. Your heart stopped, in reality, it sped up faster than it ever had. "I'm not sure she can stand, she's hurt." Spencer tried to explain but the unsub shook his head. "Bring me the tray or i shoot." He demanded. Tears brimmed your eyes. You stood shakily, spencer was sure you might fall. You didn't though. Spencer saw you about to bend down but he quickly grabbed the tray and handed it to you. Your legs were shaking as you walked. You walked slowly, scared you would fall. Your head pounded just like your heart. You brought the tray to the unsub. The gun was brought to your head and you cried out. "Do not kill her or i swear to god-" Spencer started but was cut off. "I wouldn't kill such a pretty little thing like this. So pure, so innocent. Does he know?" The unsub asked, the gun moving from your temple to under your chin. It didn't take a genius to put together what the unsub had said. But spencer already knew you were a virgin, you never had to say it. He could tell when you kissed, so unsure of yourself. He could tell when your hands shook as your tried to undo the buttons of his shirt for the first time. Every part of your body and how you reacted to him when you two made out screamed virgin, insecurity, unsure of yourself. He knew and you never even had to say it.

"Don't worry darling, I'll film it so you can watch it over and over again. See how he takes that pretty little flower of yours and tears it to shreds. Do you know what men think about when they see a virgin? They only think about one thing, absolutely ruining you. They wanna ruin you, they wanna tear you apart till you are nothing. Then they wanna throw you to the side because guess what? You aren't as special as you think you are, especially after you're no longer a virgin." The unsub said, gun still shoved under your chin. He used it to make you look up at him. "I wanted to tear you to fucking shreds the moment I saw you in that pretty pink dress. So young, so pure. How old are you? 25? Your birthday was recently, I remember the party. You got so drunk that spencer here had to carry you home. I'm surprised he didn't defile you then, take advantage of you. He must really love you if he didn't want to take you right then and there." The unsub said. Tears were streaming down your face by now, you could barely see. You tried to focus, not on his words but on his eyes. It was important to take in every detail you could incase you escaped so you could tell the team what you saw. His eyes were green, nothing special about them. There was nothing identifying about him, no different colored eyes, no black specks that you could place. There was nothing and you felt defeated. "Move back," the unsub said. You did as he said, and with that the door shut.

You couldn't move and neither could spencer. He replayed the whole conversation back in his head. The pretty pink dress he was referring to was the one you wore on your first date with spencer. He knew your birthday, he was at the party. The party was small, close friends and family only. He knew you were a virgin, no one knew that. Unless they were your close friend. This didn't make sense, how did he know so much. They didn't profile the unsub to be a stalker, he was a man that took couples of opportunity. He kept them for three days, never fed them or let them drink. This wasn't the original unsub.. this was someone totally different. This was a stalker, a man who had followed you around for days, months, at this point maybe even years. This was a whole different story, the team didn't know about him. The team wouldn't be here any time soon. And now he had no idea how long the two of you had to live. He had nothing, he had no profile, he had no clues. But maybe, just maybe you knew something.

"Y/n," spencer spoke but you were unmoving. He stood up walking over to you. You were like a statue, the only identifiable form of life was the way your hands shook. "Y/n," he grabbed your shoulders and turned you around to face him. He saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, his heart broke. "Do you know him?" Spencer asked. "His eyes were green spencer, that's all I could see. I couldn't- I didn't see anything else. Spencer I tried but there was nothing-" you were close to breaking down, going on a rant about how you tried so hard to place him. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You did good. You tried. Green eyes, that's good. That's a start." Spencer said, grabbing your shaking hands. He pulled you into his chest, "do you know anyone, any man with green eyes?" He asked. You shook your head, you couldn't place anyone because you couldn't even think straight. He had been watching you for so long and you never noticed and it scared the shit out of you. "Okay, that's okay. We can try something later after you calm down, okay?" He said and you nodded. Spencer brought you back over to the corner where the two of you sat before. He sat down, pulling you between his legs and holding you tightly. The tightness of his arms grounded you, the feeling of the cold floor against your legs also kept you grounded. "We will get through this, no matter what. Okay?" He said and you nodded.

You didn't even notice when Spencer started to speak, he was repeating a book to you. It took you a while to place it, but then you realized, he was quoting Alice in Wonderland, word for word. It was a childhood favorite of yours and he was doing it to comfort you. You buried your head in his arms, crying. As sobs shook through you, spencer held you tighter. He continued to quote the book, he knew it brought you comfort and he was gonna keep you grounded the best way he knew how to. He would never tell you how he was breaking. As time went on, he broke more. He had nothing, no clue about who the unsub was. He was so fucking scared and he didn't know what to do. He thought about trying to subdue the unsub but he had a gun, he could get shot, or worse, you could get shot. He had no way to get help. There were no windows. The door was dead bolted and connected to some sort of mechanism that made it impossible to unlock unless you had the button or passcode or whatever the fuck the unsub had. He was helpless, he had no team, no gun, no profile and no clues. It reminded him of when he was taken by Tobias Hankle. At least then he was able to talk to the unsub, reason with him and get help when needed. Now he had nothing. There was no reasoning with this unsub, his motives were clear. Fuck or Die.

It had become a waiting game, he was able to finish the whole book by the time you had worn yourself out to the point that you passed out. He was anxious, the only solace he found was in playing with your hair. It kept him calm, grounded. He tried to count the time but he kept losing count with every little noise he heard. His heart raced with every sound, so scared the unsub would come back and put the gun back to your head. The image of your body shaking and tears rolling down your face would be forever engrained in his mind. He didn't wanna remember you like that, he wanted to remember you as the sweet, smart girl he knew. The one he fell so hard for. The girl who was the only one who could help him sleep. No matter how many bad cases, bad nights and nightmares he had, he still found comfort in your arms, in the way you played with his hair and sang your favorite songs to him. He was never into pop music, love songs, but when you sang them, they were his own form of heaven. He replayed the songs in his mind as you slept. He never knew who they were by or what they were called but he could recall every single lyric.

It could've been hours by the next time the buzz came and the door opened. You jolted awake, god he wished you had stayed asleep. He didn't want you to go through it again, the gun to your head. "Come here," the unsub said, once again, gun pointed towards spencer. You moved out of Spencer's lap so he could stand up. He walked towards the unsub cautiously, trying to play through the scenarios in his mind. Ones where he'd grab the gun successfully and subdue the unsub. "Don't try to be smart now," The unsub said, gun now pointed at you. His heart sank, all possibilities of subduing the unsub now out the window. You cried again, knees pulled to your chest. "Don't shoot her, I'll cooperate." Spencer said, holding his hands un in defense. "Good," the unsub tossed spencer a pair of keys. Spencer caught them but was confused, he stared at the keys in his hand before looking up at the unsub. "Don't play dumb, you know what to do." The unsub motioned towards the shackles. "No, no, no, we don't need to do that. She'll listen. I promise she will." Spencer said. "What was that that she said earlier? We don't make promises?" The unsub said, spencer could hear the smirk in his voice. He had been listening the whole time.

"I won't- i can't tie her up, please. She- she'll be good. I'll make sure. Please," spencer pleaded. A shot rang out but thankfully it was just at the wall. You screamed, covering your ears. "Okay! Okay, don't shoot! It's okay!" Spencer's ears were ringing. You were quick to move, going over to the bed. You were sobbing and scared and Spencer knew that. He could feel it in every part of his body. He walked over to you, his own hands shaking. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," was all he could say. He grabbed your wrist gently, grabbing the metal cuff and placing it around your wrist. He locked it, he didn't want to but he did. Then he did the next wrist, he was so gentle, so calm. He had to be because he knew if you knew how truly scared he was, you would break. "There, okay, it's done." Spencer said, turning back towards the unsub. The unsub shook his head, "ankles too," he stated. Spencer felt defeated as he looked down at the bed seeing the shackles for your feet. Your legs were pulled to your chest, laying in the fetal position. "P-please don't, please. Please I'll be good," you cried out but the unsub shook his head. "No, do the ankles, now!" He yelled. You moved your legs to lay flat. You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut.

"Hey, hey, listen to me. We're on the beach, yeah? It warm, not too hot, we're not sweating. There's a cool breeze," he spoke as he put the shackles around your ankles. "It's not too cold though, it doesn't make us shiver. You have your music playing.. that one song with the lyrics about, god, what were the lyrics?" For once he couldn't think, he couldn't remember. "The one that goes, "we could leave the Christmas lights up till January," he said. You knew the song, you loved that song. "I-I never understood the lyrics.. leaving the Christmas lights up till January? Why would you do that?" Spencer tried to chuckle but his voice cracked. He couldn't stop the tears from falling. Once he was done with the shackles he looked back at the unsub. "Give me the keys," the unsub said. Spencer nodded, getting up and handing him the keys. With that, the unsub left.

Spencer was quick to be by your side. You broke, struggling in the restraints as you cried. "No, no, relax. You'll hurt yourself. You're already hurt enough, okay?" He said, you couldn't relax. You still struggled, crying. Spencer grabbed your face, "look at me, look at me," Spencer said. You opened your tired eyes, looking at spencer. "It will be okay, i won't hurt you. I won't let him hurt you. If I'm here, you're safe, I'll make sure of it." He said, stroking away the tears on your face. "I wanna go home," you cried. "That's a normal response-" you cried again, "stop! Stop it with the normal responses! This isn't normal! None of this is normal! Please, let me go!" You yelled out, trying to move again. It broke spencer, his eyes squeezing shut as his tears fell onto your shirt. "We'll be home soon, back in bed. Cuddling, watching movies. I promise we can watch a normal movie, none of the old timey russian movies. No need to translate. We can watch Mean girls, or- or some cartoons. We can watch anything you want." He said, trying hard to calm down and calm you down. "Remember- remember when you said you wanted a dog? And i complained, god, i don't know why I complained. We can get a dog now, okay? Any breed, i don't care. We can get a pitbull, a terrier, any dog toy want." He said. "A greyhound?" You asked, sniffling. "Yes, yes, a greyhound. We'll get a greyhound. We'll take him on walks together, bring him to the dog park. He can sleep in our bed, i don't care." Spencer said. He saw a smile from on your face. You leaned into his touch, "maybe we can get a cat too?" You offered. Spencer laughed, "of course, a cat too." He said. You smiled, your crying was slowing down but it didn't stop. He couldn't stop crying either, he tried but it wasn't worth it when he knew it'd start again.

"D-do you think- spencer," you didn't want to finish the sentence. You didn't quite know what you wanted to ask. "It's okay, take your time. We got all day," he tried to joke and it made you smile. "I never wanted our first time to be like this," you whispered. Spencer sighed, "I know, me neither. I wanted it to be with rose petals, music, maybe a nice dinner." He said. "Maybe on a beach," you whispered. Spencer smiled, "you were planning it, weren't you?" He asked, referring to the trip. "I was, but I never- we would never get the time." You giggled. "Your job sucks sometimes," you said. Spencer let out a broken laugh, "it truly does." He said. "But you know, sex on the beach is never what you expect it to be. Sand in places it shouldn't be, not to mention all the dieses in the sand." He said and once more you giggled. "Always ruining the moment," you said. "I never try to, maybe we could have that sex in the hotel room though, just to be safe." He said. "What about all the possible dieses in the hotel bed, huh?" You joked. "Way less than the ones on the beach." He said. You just shocked your head with a smile. "Maybe more than the ones on this bed," you said, really trying to joke. Spencer sighed, you didn't mean to bring the two of you back to reality but you did. You were faced with the horrible reality that you would lose your virginity on this possible dieses ridden bed covered in stains.

"How's your stomach?" Spencer asked, changing the subject. "I forgot about it.. was thinking about the beach, and the dog and the cat." You said. Spencer smiled at that. "Good, do you need some water?" He asked. "That would be nice," you said. Spencer reached over, grabbing the water you had left on the floor. He opened the bottle before placing a hand behind your head. He raised your head, helping you sip some water. You took a few sips before spencer pull the bottle away. "Better?" He asked and you nodded. He set the bottle down after closing it. "You haven't slept," you said and Spencer shook his head, "don't need to." He said. "That's a lie, you need sleep. You need all the energy you can get and you know that," you said. "I'll sleep when we leave." He said. "Spence, we don't know when that'll be. Please, just- just lay your head on my chest and sleep." You said. Spencer sighed, you were right, he needed sleep and he didn't know how long you two would be here. He reluctantly placed his head on your chest, it wasn't the same when you couldn't play with his hair. But then you started to sing, the lyrics flooding his brain. He could barely relax but it was enough to send him off to sleep.

You fell asleep too, you didn't mean to. You were just so tired, so worn out from struggling. You didn't know how long the two of you slept, nothing happened, the unsub never came it. It was a calm night, it didn't make sense but you decided not to think too much about it. Thinking made your head hurt. You woke up before Spencer, you went to play with his hair but the restraints stopped you. You wanted to cry again, realization had set back in as you remembered where you were. You clenched your first but stayed put, you didn't want to wake spencer. He needed rest, especially if he was going to somehow devise a plan to get the two of you out of there. He was your only hope, you trusted him though. You knew you would be okay.. maybe not now but eventually.

Spencer woke up shortly after you, looking up at you with a smile. He must've forgotten where he was as well. But you saw the realization set in. He was brought back to reality as he looked around the room. Nothing had changed which was good. But that still meant there was nothing to help him escape. Then the familiar buzzing came back. You dreaded that sound more than anything. The unsub walked in, gun in hand. He tossed scissors onto the ground. They were children's scissors, it could do damage but not enough to stop him from shooting. He thought maybe if he could get the scissors into his neck it would stop him but that wouldn't, nothing would stop a mad man from shooting the love of his life. He's learned that the hard way.

"The shirt," the unsub said, pointing the gun at the scissors then at you. Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, "please, I'll do anything if you just let her go." Spencer said. "No, the shirt." The unsub said. "We could make a deal, you- we- please," spencer didn't have a deal to make. He knew what the unsub wanted and he didn't know how to stop it. "Now!" The unsub yelled. Spencer gave in, you didn't cry out this time like you had before when you yelled. When spencer looked at you, he saw you broken, silently sobbing but not begging anymore. He wanted you to beg, he wanted to know you were still fighting, still willing to fight for your life, your purity. But you didn't, you were silent as you cried, eyes squeezing shut.

Spencer sat besides you, he used the scissors at the bottom of your shirt, slowly cutting the fabric. His hands trembled as he struggled to get through the material. He had seen this part of you before but not like this. Not when he was forced to. The unsub walked over to him, looking over his shoulder. "How pretty, beautiful untouched skin." He said. Spencer held the scissors so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Oh come on now," the gun was now to the back of Spencer's head. "You really don't wanna do that, you hurt me, I hurt you. Not enough to kill you, no, no. I would make you watch as i fucking tear her apart. You don't want that do you? You want it to be you, you want to be the one to take her sweet virginity. I know you do." He said, keeping the gun in place, the barrel placed against the back of his head.

"Not like This," spencer whispered. "Not like This? Are you sure about that? You think she's the only one I watch? I've seen you Dr. Spencer Reid. I've seen you, laying in bed, what dumbass keeps the blinds open?" He chuckled, "I watched as you jacked off to porn, to photos of her, she wasn't even nude in them. Scantily clad, but never nude. How perverted are you? I've seen the porn you watch, BDSM? I bet the shackles turn you on." The unsub said. Spencer was heartbroken. He didn't need this side of himself revealed, especially not to you. He would share those things, but not now. "They don't," spencer said. "Why not? You've watched girls suffer and enjoyed it. But not this?" The unsub said. "BDSM is based on consent. This isn't consensual." Spencer said. "I Can make it consensual." The unsub said. The gun was now pointed at you. "Beg," he said. "W-what? Beg for what?" You asked, trying to not let your voice crack but it wasn't working. "Beg him to fuck you, tell him you want it. Make it believable." The unsub said.

You looked at spencer, he couldn't even look at you. He was so ashamed of himself, so hurt and guilty. "P-please f-fuck me," you said, unconvincingly. "Make it believable!" The unsub yelled. There was that sob again, the one that wracked through your body and broke spencer. "P-please fuck me, please spencer, I need you, I want you. Please i want it," you cried, staring at spencer. He shook his head, "I can't, you don't want it. I can't," Spencer said, tears streaming down his face once more. "Fine, if you can't. Then i will!" The unsub shoved spencer out of the way.

You screamed, cried when you felt the unsubs hands on your body. It felt dirty, his hands were rough. You struggled in his grip on your sides. "Spencer, please, please!" You cried out. You couldn't see spencer through the tears in your eyes. But then you heard it. A shot fired and the body of the unsub fell limp on you. You screamed again, "help, help, help," you cried, squirming. You could feel the blood pouring out of the unsub and onto your body. Spencer quickly grabbed the unsubs limp body and moved him off of you. You were sobbing, shaking. Spencer kicked the gun away in case the unsub was able to get up. He grabbed the keys and quickly started to undo the shackles. Once your ankles and hands were free, you hugged spencer, hugged him so tightly you were sure he might not be able to breathe. "We need to get out of here, we need to find a phone," spencer said quickly, pulling back. You looked over at the body but spencer grabbed your face, "Don't look at him, look at me. We need to get out of here. Okay? Can you stand?" He asked. You weren't sure but spencer was already standing, pulling you up with him.

Your head started pounding again but you ignored it, leaning against Spencer's body as he guided you out of the room. He had to practically pull you up the stares. He opened the door, leading the two of you into a house. "I need to find a phone," Spencer said, leaving your side. You leaned back against the wall, falling down to the floor as you cried. You could still feel the unsubs hands on you, you could still see his lifeless body on the floor. The imagine would be engrained in your mind. The feeling of his hands would be burned into your brain. "The team is on there way," spencer said as he got down beside you. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. "We're safe, we'll be safe soon. We're going home. We're gonna get that dog and that cat. We'll take that beach trip." He explained, keeping you close.

You didn't know how long it took for the team to get there. You were too busy shaking and crying in Spencer's arms, replaying the scene in your head over and over again. The door bust open making you flinch, you didn't scream, you didn't have it in you. "Spence, oh my god, spence," JJ said, running over to the two of you. "The ambulance will be here soon, okay?" She said. You couldn't open your eyes but you could hear the team moving through the house. You didn't want to open your eyes, you were so scared you'd see the body again. "Are you okay?" JJ asked. Spencer nodded then looked down at you, "She was hit in the head, im sure she has a concussion." Spencer said. "Is she bleeding?" JJ asked but spencer shook his head, "It's not her blood," he said. JJ was relieved. She loved Spencer and she loved you. Sure, spencer knew her first, but you felt closer to her than anyone else. "Ambulance is here!" Someone called out. "Okay, okay, we need to get you two checked out." JJ said.

Spencer started to move but you cried harder, clinging onto him. "No, no, no-" you cried. "It's okay, we're going to the ambulance. Okay, im staying with you." Spencer said. You reluctantly stood up with him. JJ was on your other side, helping you walk. You never realized how weak you were till now. Your feet drug against the ground, you felt limp, heavy. You hear hung as you walked. You were so tired. They helped you into the ambulance and laid you down. You clung onto Spencer's arm like a lifeline, afraid that if you let go, the unsub would be back, grabbing you, touching you.

"I'm here, I'm not going anywhere," spencer said, grabbing your hand and holding it just as tightly as you were holding his. "I'll meet you two at the hospital," JJ said before leaving the car. Spencer just looked down at you, watching as the EMT's checked you out. You felt a hand on your stomach that wasn't Spencer's and you freaked out. "N-no! Please!" You squeezed your eyes shut. "D-don't touch her there!" Spencer said, shoving the EMTs hand away. "I was checking for bleeding," he said. "That's not her blood! Don't touch her there again!" Spencer was furious, these were the people that were supposed to keep us safe but yet they were making you relive the trauma. "I won't, i wont," The EMT said.

They hooked you up to IVs, checking you for a concussion which you indeed had. "She's dehydrated and in pain. We're giving her morphine. She'll fall asleep soon," The EMT said. Spencer nodded and his eyes never left you. You couldn't open your eyes, the lights were too bright and you were too tired to keep them open. "I'm here, I'm not leaving." Spencer said. You squeezed his hand to indicate you were listening. "Did you hear the doctor? You'll fall asleep soon but I'll be right here. I'm not leaving." You squeezed his hand again. Spencer knew the EMT wasn't a doctor but he wasn't about to make things more difficult for you to understand in your fragile state. You fell asleep soon after he told you what was happening.

Spencer was so tired, struggling to keep his eyes open as he watched you sleep. He refused to sleep, he couldn't bare having you wake up without him being awake as well. The doctors hooked him up to an IV after checking him out. He was fine, dehydrated but fine. He didn't have a concussion like you did, he wasn't stuck in shackles like you were. Sure, he had trauma but nothing as bad as you. He had been through the pain, the gun against the head, but you hadn't. This was all new to you and he knew you were about to go through hell when you woke up. You'd need years of therapy like he did. He worried you'd turn to drugs like he did but he would make sure you didn't. He do anything to help you cope but he wasn't going to let you do anything to hurt yourself.

You woke up after a while, eyes heavy as they opened. "Hey, hey, I'm here," he could see the way your hand moved frantically in search of his. He grabbed your hand and held it tightly. Your eyes finally opened and were met by his. "I wanna go home," was all you said. Spencer nodded, "we'll be home soon." Was all he said. You nodded, turning your head with a soft groan. You looked out the window, it was sunny out. You missed the sun. "I was thinking.. when we get home.. we should book that beach trip." He said. You didn't smile this time though, the beach trip no longer brought you comfort. That was ruined by the unsub. "Or, you know what.. maybe no a beach trip. Maybe somewhere more cozy, secluded. Maybe the mountains?" He said. You turned to face him, furrowing your brows. "I know, I don't have good memories with secluded cabins but i think you could change that. A nice cozy cabin, the rain hitting the windows as we cuddle up by a fire. Watching movies, listening to music, reading books. How does that sound?" He asked. A smile formed on your face, "that sounds perfect," you whispered. "Good, then it's a plan. We can set it up when we get home." He said. "And the dog?" You asked. "We'll look into adoption, same with the cat." He said. You smiled, tears brimming your eyes. "I love you," you said. "I love you too," he responded. He leaned in, giving you a soft kiss, things were hard but you knew with him, you could get through it.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I realise you're HE, but any thoughts on how high school level education should be run/changed/etc? I'd love to know your views!

Oh sure, plenty, but they're not particularly informed lol

Well; Wales is actually massively and fundamentally changing secondary education atm, but we won't be getting students from it until the year after next, I think, so no real comment on effectiveness yet - but it's very interesting. They're getting rid of isolated subjects in favour of broad umbrella areas, as I understand it? So there's now Science and Technology (Physics, Biology, Chemistry, Computing, and all the various DT subjects like Woodwork, Electronics, Cookery, etc), Maths and Numeracy, Humanities (History, Geography, Ethics, Religion), Languages Literacy and Communication, and Health and Wellbeing (actually maybe Cookery comes under this one now? Dunno.) And there's a sixth to do with arts but I can't remember what it's called. But it includes Art, Drama, Media Studies, etc.

And then the idea is that a class will learn about a given topic at a time (I don't know for how long, so let's say six weeks), and this will be taught in each of those six umbrellas but via their own methods. So like... I dunno, let's say the Tudors:

That's fairly straightforward for Humanities, but in addition to giving you the historical facts you'd also explore historic trade routes and natural resources of the time and how they related to the politics (geography), the religious make up of the country and how THAT related to the politics (religion), etc.

Maths and Numeracy might explore how to use statistics to analyse Tudor era population or trade data.

Science and Tech could look at disease outbreaks and virology, or technological advancements and how they worked and get students to build one, or get students to construct a Tudor-era town using computer software

Languages can study plays from the era (Shakespeare), look at linguistic development, or use historical events as talking points to practice using vocab in conversations

Health and Wellbeing can explore stressors and challenges of the average Medieval peasant and how they overcame them, or play some popular Tudor sport or game, or make food to Tudor recipes, etc

The Arts one (god I cannot remember the name) can look at art history of the period, fashions, perform plays, etc

So everyone is still teaching the skills and knowledge of their subject areas, they're just united by one big case study. It apparently allows for far more integrated teaching, too, where two previously discrete subjects can join forces on a project.

All of which seems pretty good, on the whole, but also rife with issues if everyone isn't careful, so we'll see how it shakes out over the next few years.

From my own experiences of school though. Jesus. Something definitely needed to happen, fuck me.

What I should have learned in Textiles:

How to use a sewing machine

How to sew by hand to mend a tear

How to darn a hole

How to hem, dart, take in, and let out clothes

How to sew from a pattern

What I actually learned in Textiles:

How to use a sewing machine on its most basic setting

How to phone in creating a hand puppet out of felt because gluing was easier than sewing

How to badly sew an extremely makeshift and shit bag out of scrap fabric that you in no way want to then use

How to lose all interest in Textiles because it was useless and uninteresting

Like that is a VITAL skillset-imparting subject, and they fucked it, lads, they completely fucked it. Why did they never set us the task of buying a cheap shirt from a charity shop that we then amended in class? That would have been so useful.

Games and PE! Fucking hell! Here's what I should have learned:

How to stretch my body safely to target specific muscle groups, and in particular, how to cultivate a daily stretching routine I enjoyed and wanted to do

How to find a physical activity active enough to get me out of breath that I genuinely enjoyed, so that I wanted to continue it, e.g. salsa dancing or rope climbing or ice skating or hill climbing or assault courses or fucking anything at all

How to build my body up to doing particular activities safely and sustainably

How to find a physical activity to do on wet, cold, rainy days that would still be fun and I would still enjoy

Here's what I actually learned:

Physical activity is always uncomfortable and miserable and sometimes even painful

If you aren't enjoying running around in the wind and rain instead of the indoor gym The Problem Is You. Start Enjoying It.

Wanting to stay warm and dry and comfortable is a punishable choice.

You are only permitted to do physical activity in clothes that make you feel profoundly exposed and uncomfortable (a gym skirt and gym knickers in my school. Cycling shorts got you detention. Don't get me started on jogging bottoms.) Again, if you do not enjoy this, The Problem Is You. Start Enjoying It.

There are only three activity options. If you don't enjoy any of them, physical activity is not for you.

You should be able to Just Do physical exercise, without any training to build you up to it. If you can't and it hurts, this is because you're Bad At PE.

You will only be shown Once

Physical activity is only ever a team sport that you aren't good enough to be willingly picked for

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

And you know what, LET'S round off with Food Technology/Cookery. Because I remember the things I was asked to make in FT. As a little baby Year 7, I still vividly remember two of the things we made.

Angel Delight. Easy, you might say! A simple treat, you might think! Easing the children into food prep, I hear you cry! But no, because the theme of the year was healthy eating, and so we were to add fruit to our Angel Delight. Any flavour Angel Delight, any fruit. Off you go. I don't know if any of you have encountered fruit, Tumblrs, but it famously has faintly acidic juice. This will prevent the Angel Delight from setting within the one hour lesson, no matter how well you mixed the pudding, or how quickly you got it into the fridge. It will result in soggy gross lumps of oxidising fruit in sloppy liquid pudding. Lesson learned: fruit makes food worse.

Cake. Easyish, you might say! A little harder than the Angel Delight but good training, you might think! A fairly straightforward process with a child-friendly food at the end, I hear you cry! But no, because the theme of the year was still healthy eating, so the teachers made it into an experiment; make four small cakes. One with sugar, one with sweetener, one with apple, and one with carrot. Then taste them and rank them in order. Off you go. I don't know if any of you have ever tried eating sugarless carrot cake, Tumblrs, but I have, and I can tell you categorically that it really puts the "Did you know" into the phrase "Did you know that fructose and sucrose are not actually equivalents of each other in a culinary setting?" It was rancid. It was disgusting. It was vile. It made me hate carrot cake for the next 12 years, in case my mouth had to go through that ordeal again. I'm still highly suspicious of the stuff even now. To (I assume) the surprise of fuck-damned no one, we unanimously put them in the order of sugar, sweetener, apple, carrot. Lesson learned: FRUIT MAKES FOOD WORSE AND CARROTS ARE ACTIVELY DISGUSTING

What possessed them?! No idea. Fucking hell.

Anyway this is getting long and I am still ill-informed. Peace out.

[eilaafterhours]

Take a Picture [Grim | Casper]

Content: AFAB Reader, Lingerie, Men in Lingerie, Banter, Nude Photos, Dom/Sub Undertones, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Smut, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None (AFAB)

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Remember:I’ll block you if I catch your ageless or under age (not 18+) ass in my activity :)

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

You and Casper had a very active sexual life. Once he was here, and once you had your hands on him, well—Simply put, the two of you got your fill of each other, and yet it was never enough. 

This, however, was new to the two of you, and you're very interesting on learning just how this thought got into Casper's head.

You ran your fingers over the mesh fabric, then paused as they caught onto some loose ribbon. A smile slowly crept across your face. 

"Prefect..." A wonderful plan had devised itself, and you were absolutely ready to enact it. 

All you had to do was hold out and wait your turn.

Which proved to be harder than you imagined. 

After you had put the outfit on and did a little bit of dolling up, you exited the bathroom. Of course, you knew that he'd also be dressed up—that was the whole point of this. 

The outfit was simple—so very simple. It was a black halter dress with an open back and very high slit on both sides, the thin straps of a black thong peaked through the slits, and you added a black leather garter belt for one of his thighs. 

But gods, you always seemed to forget just how beautiful Casper really was. 

The black contrasted his pale skin, making his skin glow (and glitter? Did he use your shimmer mist?). Especially at his thighs and curves of his hips, both the thong and garter belt, hugging the flesh nicely.

You bite your lip. How could you last with this in front of you? You wanted to take him right now. Ruin him just like you know he wants, and then take your pictures. Actually, maybe you could—

"Sunshine?" He called, snapping you out of your deprived thoughts. "Are you already thinking of throwing in the towel?" One of his fingers found the waistband of the thong, pulling on it, then letting it snap sinfully against his skin. "I know you're trying really hard."

You narrowed your eyes at that.

Big talk meant big action in this household. And now the two of you had reached the climax: seeing just who would break first. 

And you'd be damned if it were you.

You smiled, making your way to him. "I'm fine, but—" Your hand ran through his hair, exposing his red ears. "You'll never be able to hide from me."

And then you were gone, pulled away from him and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'll even let you go first—put me how you want me, Casper." 

He took a deep breath as he picked up the camera. 

"On your knees, lean back on your hands, stick your chest out." His order was succinct, and his tone left no room for any more banter. You did what you were told, adjusting yourself as he commanded. 

Click! "Ass up." 

Click!

Then he hesitated, his eyes flicking away from you. "...Lean up against the headboard, spread your legs and..."

You knew where he was going, but you wanted to hear him say it. So you waited, playing with a stray loose thread. 

"And spread your cunt."

A spread through your body. You were expecting pussy—not cunt. And the way his voice deepened had your cunt clenching.

You adjusted yourself a bit, finding a more comfortable position. Then your fingers glided down to your pussy and—

"You act unbothered, and yet your pussy drools for my cock."

You squeezed your eyes shut, legs slamming shut. 

You heard him chuckle. "That won't do." He moved closer, leaning down next to your ear. "Open or I'll get something to keep them open."

His warm breath sent a shiver down your spine that had you close off more, but when his hand tapped your thigh, you did as you were told, finally spreading yourself like he wanted. 

"Eyes on me." Your watery gaze met his unwavering one.  

Click!

You breathed a sigh of relief, removing your hand and letting your legs fall shut. 

That was...a lot more than you were expecting. 

Being the good partner he was, Casper was at your side. "You did so good for me."

"I know." You nuzzled into him. "I just forgot how intense you can get..."

He pressed a kiss against your cheek. "Interesting that you say forgot instead of admitting that you enjoyed it."

"I mean, I did, but…" There was not "but". You liked it, and he knew it, and know that he knew for certain. 

You'd be in a lot more trouble down the line. Oh well, that'll be then and this is now. 

And now, it was your turn. 

You started off easy. Your first picture of him matched your own first picture.

Click!

For the second, you had him move to the end of the bed, and pull the skirt of the dress to the side. Which exposed his very prominent erection and small wet spot.

You smirked. "You look ready to bust—you're already leaking! Do you think you'll be able to hold off until you get inside me?" 

He huffed. "...of course." So the answer was maybe. 

Well, it was no, but he didn't need to know that. 

"I mean, I did, but..." There was not "but". You liked it, and he knew it, and know that he knew for certain. 

You'd be in a lot more trouble down the line. Oh well, that'll be then and this is now. 

And now, it was your turn. 

You started off easy. Your first picture of him matched your own first picture. 

Click!

"Pull the thong to the side."

He raised a brow. "That's it?"

You nodded. 

"I don't trust you." But did it regardless, hissing as the fabric brushed over the head of his cock. 

Click!

He blinked, obviously caught off guard by the sudden flash. 

"I wasn't ready!" He frowned. 

You smiled at him, moving closer. "Yes, but your face was so pretty. I couldn't help it." You dropped in front of him, "How about one extra picture?" You held out the camera to him.

"...you are insatiable." And yet he still took the device from your hand.

"You're one to talk." You flattened your tongue and licking from the base to the head. "Make sure to get a good shot. You've only got one." 

You were going to play with him, maybe edge him a bit, but he was reached his release quicker than either of you expected.

You at least had some sort of warning, though. 

"Wait fuck—!"

You squeezed your eyes shut as hot ropes of cum splattered across your face. You took a moment to catch your breath, ready to stand up and clean your face, but—

"Open your mouth. Wide." You weren't expecting him to speak, just take the picture and be done with it. But then something hot and heavy was placed on your tongue, and you knew why.

Click!

You gave him one last good suck before pulling off him with a pop. 

"Seven Hells...you will be the death of me."

"My head game's so strong it'll kill you? Damn." You tapped his thigh. "Now, help me to the bathroom, please."

And that was supposed to be the end of it, but of course it wasn't because it was never enough. Somehow, after helping you clean your face, he placed you on the counter, shoving the camera (of course he brought it in here) into your hands bullying himself between your legs, and returned the favor tenfold. 

He made you squirt. Your juices sprayed him, his clothes, the counter and ran down the cabinets. And then he lifted his head up, giving you a full view of his soaked face. 

Click!

This one was your favorite.

"Fuck me..." You swallowed harshly, placing your hands on your shaking thighs. 

"Should I be worried? Was I that good?" He said it casually, cleaning his face, as if he didn't give some of his best head on record. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Fuck you."

"Actually," Casper pulled off the counter, easily sliding you on his waiting cock. "I'd rather fuck you."

You whined, head hiding in his neck. "S-sensitive..." But that didn't stop you from rolling your hips. "You owe me a picture."

"Of course, of course." You knew that tone, he was plotting. 

Oh well, it wasn't like you also weren't doing the same thing. If he wanted more pictures, he could have him.

But you'd also get what was yours.

100% if anything else needs to be tagged, let me know because I've just been released from the haze of this work.

Anyway, I saw these

and they made me lose my fucking mind and I had to stop writing another piece to write this one.

AND THEN I GOT POSSESSED BECAUSE UMMMMMM WHAT IS THIS

DON'T ASK ME, I DON'T KNOW.

Ko-Fi | Masterlist

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Getting Kidnapped - BNHA/MHA

Features: Tomura Shigaraki, Shouta Aizawa and Kai Chisaki

A/n: I thought of this while I was taking a nap LMAO, let's get started and be sure to check out the rest of my writings...(there's only like 3 or 4 at this point :sob:)... it's very short but whatever, I enjoy being funny and writing this so yeah baby :))))

TOMURA SHIGARAKI -

You really didn't know how you got there. You were shocked but not that shocked, it was bound to happen eventually.

"Damn it's dark as a motherfucker in here. I just know they can't pay the light bill." Then the lights turn on to reveal the LOV.

"Oh...I guess you do pay the light bill. Hello." You go to wave but your hands are tied against the back of the chair.

"Greetings, L/n Y/n. Do you know why you're here?" "Nope." He pauses and just stares at you.

"You know some information that we don't, I'm going to need you to talk doll. Or else we'll torture you."

"You calling me pet names is already enough torture for me, crusty." You hear someone stifle a laugh from behind you.

"Glad to hear that someone enjoys my humor. Anyways, you got some water or something." Then your chair starts to get dragged into another room.

"That's right Dabi, take them into your room. Interrogate them." The door closes behind the two of you.

Time to work your own personal magic.

A couple of hours later, Shigaraki opens the door to Dabi's room, somber music plays in the background while you sit on the floor, untied, having a conversation with the burned man.

"Dabi! What are you doing?!" Tomura rips the hand off of his face and holds it tightly in his hands.

"Talking." He lays back on his bed, his head falling off the side of the bed.

"Why did you untie them?" He points at you and all you do is wave back with a big smile.

"They said the restraints were hurting them so I just untied them." Tomura shuts the door and lets out a scream of annoyance.

You laugh and whisper to Dabi. "Somebody's got their panties in a twist, don't they?"

SHOUTA AIZAWA -

As soon as you reached for an item inside of a random home, something tied tightly around your wrist.

"What the?" One sharp tug later and you're wrapped up tight, hanging upside-down from the ceiling. "Fuck..." You draw out the word in annoyance

You go to use your quirk and it doesn't work, nothing happens. Then a man with long black hair and tired eyes steps into the brightness of the moonlight from the darkness.

"Couldn't you do this another night or something?" He rubs his eyes and stares at you.

He walks around your bounded form as you try to spin yourself to look at the powerful homeowner.

"I mean I could, if you let me go that is." You flash a smile at him as he raises his brows.

"Afraid I can't do that. You'll be coming with me to the police station...in the morning. It's too late to be doing that now." Your eyes widened.

A handsome stranger taking you to jail...in the morning. IS HE STUPID?

"What if I find a way to escape from the restraints? What then?"

He tilts his head, a small grin finding its way onto his features. "You won't. You can't break this material."

He ties the end of the fabric to a hook and walks into a different room.

"Wait what about the blood rushing to my head!"

He comes back in and with a single pull of the fabric, you're tilted sideways like sleeping on a bed.

When the morning comes, a little girl is looking at you very confused. "Who are you?"

"Your Dad's friend, I was playing around with his scarf and got stuck. Could you help me?"

The little girl, without a second thought, unties the fabric from your body. You find a pen and a piece of paper to write down your number on to then, hand it to the girl.

"Give him this when he wakes up and no peeking."

You open the balcony door and wave goodbye to the girl before jumping off the glass railing. You shoot upward and rest on the roof, holding your phone in your hand, waiting eagerly for his response.

---inside the home---

"Mr. Aizawa." She pokes his side a bit hard which wakes him up.

"What's wrong Eri?"

She hands him a folded piece of paper.

"Your friend told me to give you this. They just left a bit ago."

His eyes widened as he shot up from his spot in bed, rushing into the living area. He opened the note and smirked, shaking his head.

The note read: 'that cute little girl let me out, told you I could leave...call me! xxx-xxx-xxxx XOXO'

KAI CHISAKI -

"Wow...this is a beautiful place you got here? Why am I tied up?"

He rolls his amber eyes and lays the chair against the couch behind you. He almost straddles your waist but he just stands there, looking down at you.

"You're filthy, I plan on fixing you."

You look at him with confusion. "I literally showered as soon as I got home from my job, what do you mean weirdo?"

He hated that nickname, his fingertips played with the bottom of his gloves. The glove comes off and he reaches forward to touch you, nothing happens

...his hands are really warm and soft.

"You must not do a lot of hard work since your hands are soft... you either moisturize or you're just lazy and have servants."

He's in shock but then scoffs at your comments.

"I'm a doctor but I can't cure you. You're still filthy."

You just shrug and smile up at him happily. "Okay, whatever you say plague guy. You'd probably die if you had a sip of McDonald's Sprite."

...what?

[eroset]

hello!! hole ur doing well, can i request top!m reader w beel from OM? smth involving lingeries n feminization maybe? tyyy<3

TYYYY FOR REQUESTING THIS I GOT CARRIED AWAY CZ I LUUUUUUV BEEL + LINGERIE + FEMINIZATION IT MAKES ME CRAZY KISSES KISSES u accidentally hit one of my favvvv things so idc that its outrageously long <33333 the typo is so funny i would be doing better with a hole. anyway i am doing well here is a gift just 4 u my love hee hee i hope u like itttt🙈

cw: chest/nipple play (c. receiving), chestjob (r. receiving), oral (r. receiving), feminization, praise. ended up making reader more of a soft dom than just a top so 4give me if you did not want that <33

minors dni!

"what is this?"

on his knees in front of your closet in the aftermath of a failed stashed snack raid, beelzebub holds up a fine strip of fabric; a shimmering piece from a lingerie set that costed more than your life, probably.

"oh, that's from asmo. he said i could break it in."

beel gives you a blank look as you speak. "break it in?" and you see his hands tense toward the literal, flexing in a manner as if he intends to shred the fabric. your hand shoots out to grab his wrist, though you know your own strength won't stop him.

"as in use!" you breathe out a sigh of relief when he stops.

"why couldn't asmo use it? isn't it his?" he holds it up to inspect it properly. it's a white, lacy thing with a delicate trim that catches in the light. it's transparent and gauzy in places, with silk ribbons to hold it all together. it's pretty.

not functional, though. asmo had been given a boxed promotional set in an array of sizes, many of which were much too big for him, and much too expensive to just brazenly throw out. he'd opted instead to pawn gift them to you.

beel frowns when you explain this. runs a thumb over the fabric, thoughtful. "it doesn't look too big."

you grin. "he said the top half was way too big for him. he doesn't like women's lingerie, says it fits weird on him. it'd probably fit you, though." you stand from your crouched position beside him, ruffling his hair. "your chest is like a girl's, anyway. guess you're luckier than he is."

and something clicks.

...

it takes months from then for him to work up to this.

for someone like beelzebub, who is simple in his pleasures, who doesn't bother thinking over what he would and wouldn't theoretically like (what's the point?), who is instead content in sticking to what he knows feels good and basks in it, this is a step in a direction he doesn't know what to make of.

but he doesn't see the point thinking too much about it, because if it feels good, then what does it matter?

and it does feel good. it felt good when you said it so easily with him on his knees: your chest is like a girl's, anyway. and when you joked during levi's boring tabletop roleplaying game on your character's twist royal lineage, when asked who your princess would be, your hand flirtily on his knee under the table: beel, i guess. and after one of his work out sessions, when his shirt rode up and you zeroed in on it like a moth to a flame, smoothed a hand thoughtfully over his waist: like one of those bikini models in mammon's fashion magazines.

and it feels good now, when you have him seated on your lap on your couch like something precious, dressed up for you in white lace and silk.

beel doesn't feel self-conscious, even when he's wearing so little. the lingerie fits him well, as you'd predicted. the bralette of the dress clings to his chest, stretched tight over his pecs and fanning out in a pretty skirt that he can't help but fidget with. the suspender belt and stockings were a fight to get on, but they make his legs feel smooth, and he likes the way your eyes darken when you gaze over his skin pudging out of the tight straps crossing up his thighs.

"no," he says with a shake of his head, and he leans forward a little, into you, still towering over you. it's a wonder how you can make him feel small and cherished when he's so much bigger than you are. his thick thighs splay across your hips, and they tense when you run your hands over them.

"you look like a doll," you say with a smile, and that look is in your eye again. it makes his stomach hot. your finger hooks under one of the straps on his thigh and pull it taut. it pops back against his skin with a snap!, and he jumps. you smile at that, too. it makes his stomach hotter.

he sits still while your hands work over him, smoothing and cupping over his body. sometimes over the lingerie and sometimes under, and the touches are long and hot enough for him to end up with him starting to get hard, tense in the way he always gets when he wants friction but wants even more to behave for you. it feels weird to be stroked like this, like you really are admiring the craftmanship of a doll, or maybe just groping him like a pervert, but it's not unpleasant.

"it fits you so well." you pinch and stoke up his waist, just under the hem of the bralette, and he finally realizes your intent when he sees your eyes fix on his chest. "especially here." oh, but he's always too quick to get worked up when you play around with him like this.

"um, wait," he says, hands flying to circle your arms, but your palms are already cupping the meat of his pecs firmly, and he jerks forward without meaning to. instead of pulling them away, all he can do is cling to your forearms when you make a massaging motion. heat coils in him and he releases a heavy sigh. "i..."

you look back up at him, feigning innocence. "is something wrong?"

"no, i just- ah," he mumbles, suddenly embarrassed. his knees try to knock together but only end up squeezing your hips. "my chest..." his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

beelzebub doesn't continue. your hands continue their motions, kneading his pecs with the firm intent of making him blush and shudder in your lap, and of course it works - his chest has always been sensitive. his arms shake when they circle your head to rest his forearms along the back of the couch, leaning into your touch.

he chokes out a sound when your thumbs finally press over his nipples, and his hips stutter into yours. you rub them in short, firm circles that make him purr, boneless against you, feeling much too hot to really lament getting hard so quickly. you've always liked to exploit this weakness of his.

your hips cant up into his hips and he whines against your neck open-mouthed as you roll them between your thumbs. "that was fast."

"uh-huh," he pants. he rolls his hips firmly and without rhythm, just seeking friction - you haven't reprimanded him for it, so he's not doing anything wrong, right? he continues rocking eagerly.

"i was right about what i said before," you coo into his ear, a distraction from your nips and squeezes at his nipples between your fingers. "your chest is like a girl's." and you press down on them again, hard, and buck your hips up just right, and he melts against you with a sweet moan.

it's a short-lived pleasure. he grumbles a confused sound when you push him back, leaning him back in your lap. his cock is hard and heavy, straining up against his white panties, but they must be enchanted to stay in place. he jerks forward without meaning to when you give his chest one final squeeze, a glint in your eyes.

"i wanna see what else i can do with them."

...

beelzebub sits dutifully between your spread thighs, ignoring the fire in his gut in favor of staring in anticipation at your cock tenting against the zipper of your jeans.

"it tastes weird," he complains as you swipe your thumb under his lower lip, wiping away any wayward pink. but his eyes remain glued to your cock, and he swallows reflexively.

"not about how it tastes. it's supposed to make you look pretty." you cap the lipstick and set it aside. (or was it lip gloss? he doesn't know the difference.)

beel squirms a little and finally tears his gaze from your bulge, hands tentatively squeezing your knees. "do i?" he asks quietly. he looks away when you meet his gaze, bashful. "do i look pretty like a..." you've called him pretty in the past, but this time...

your hand catches on his jaw and force his head back to look at you. "like a girl?" you clarify, and your grip softens with a fond smile when he slowly and bashfully nods. your thumb presses against his lips, despite being so careful in your application of color, and he opens it pliantly. "you look like a very pretty girl, beel."

"oh," he breathes, your thumb pressed firmly on his tongue while your knuckles hold under his chin, keeping his mouth open. he squeezes your knees again and clenches his own together and his eyes once more fall down when your other hand drifts to your zipper.

he should be embarrassed about the way he salivates when your cock springs free, especially since you can feel it when you hold his mouth open. you fist your cock and stroke it slowly, watching as he swallows reflexively around nothing, and his spine tingles when you chuckle lowly.

"sit still, beel." you warn, and pull him toward your cock and angle it properly for him, just enough to almost graze the hot head of it against his tongue. you say something else but just the smell of you so close to him has his brain sparking. all he can do is nod to whatever you said, sharp and jerky, eyes wide and begging.

but you still don't release him. you keep your grip on his chin, holding him in place as you slowly and firmly stroke yourself, head angled toward his tongue, so close, as if you were just going to cum over his tongue and he whines low, now confused. you knew how much he loved you in his mouth- what were you doing?

you smile as beel squirms, this time shifting to angle your hips up a little. but when you pull him forward, you pull him up- away from your cock, and the momentum pulls his chest forward, cushioning it against your stomach. you sigh at the feeling and release his mouth, which is drooling freely.

"like this," you murmur, your hands guiding his to the sides of his chest. he pushes his pecs together as you direct him to, wobbling a little on his knees before he steadies himself.

his eye snap from your cock sandwiched between his pecs to your face a little frantically once he realizes that you aren't, in fact, going to throatfuck him. "but-"

"not yet, baby," you croon, like he's so silly for wanting your cock in his mouth instead of between his tits. "said i wanted to play with your chest more, didn't i? you're doing so good."

one of your hands grips his hair at the back of his head, not enough to hurt, just to steady him. the other wiggles between where you're connected; you fiddle with the ribboned straps of his bralette, feeding your cock underneath it to hug it firmly between his pecs, and he shudders when you rub one of his nipples with a thumb for good measure before you lean back.

like this, you direct, and beel can't help but obey you when you manhandle him in in how to move. it's a much tighter fit than he thought it'd be- the meat of his chest already pops a bit between the ribbons, made all the tighter with the heat of your thick cock pulsing between them. he's clumsy at first, not sure how tight to squeeze or how fast to move, but he gains a slow and steady rhythm after a while, one that makes you coo in approval.

the sight of it is mesmerizing, your fat cockhead thrusting in and out of his pecs with a slick pop every time it reappears. it's hot and sticky from his drool, which makes for an easier glide, and soon he's getting into it too, panting a little every time he goes down.

and with you groaning above him, his own arousal is long forgotten in favor of chasing yours.

you thrust your hips up once when he strokes down and your cock hits his chin, smearing against his lips; he gasps and heat floods him at the taste, the way it always does. his tongue sticks out reflexively, swirling around the head of your cock, and when you don't scold him he moans around it, head bobbing down.

from this position he can't take much, but even just the inch he gets in his mouth is amazing. he sucks it dutifully, reverently, and massages his chest around you, coaxing your cock to spit more delicious precum against his tongue.

"fuck," you wheeze, and beelzebub gargles a moan when you thrust up higher. "your mouth's so fucking hot." your tone makes his hole clench, but before he can really get into it, the grip you have on his hair pulls his head off. he suckles at your head as you pull out, a strand of saliva connecting your pulsing head to his mouth.

he licks his lips greedily, savoring the flavor, and pants open-mouthed when you thrust between his chest. "more," he whines, tongue hanging out to catch your cockhead every time you thrust up. he squeezes his pecs together and bounces them on your cock, eager for your cum, and moans when you hiss in pleasure.

"jus' like that," you slur, rocking your hips with him. "so good, you're doing so good."

he sucks at your head greedily whenever it reaches his mouth, tonguing your slit and laving it with care, all the while pinching and rolling you in his chest. his hips buck against one of your calves clumsily, more of an afterthought to the pleasure of his mouth, and he chokes on his spit when you abruptly shove his head down, feeding your cock in deeper.

"take it," you grunt, and he sucks you into his mouth as deep as he can with his chest in the way. it's wet and sticky from drool and precum, and your balls slap noisily against the underside of his pecs every time he bounces them down. it's lewd but he doesn't care, too caught up in the wet heat of everything to focus on anything else but your voice and your cock throbbing against his chest and the way your free hand thumbs at one of his nipples. "that's it, take it, swallow it all like a good girl."

he does so obediently, moaning all the while, swallowing down the thick load you give him, hot and sticky in his mouth, like a good girl. he can feel everything, every throb of your lipstick-peppered cock between his chest as you thrust into him, every pulse of your heavy balls against the satin ropes crossing his chest as your cock spits rope after rope of sticky cum over his tongue and the back of his throat. he doesn't stop, milking you for as much cum as he can get; swirls his tongue against your head as he sucks, head bobbing, massaging his tits around you. the extra attention makes it last longer than most of your orgasms, and you grunt and roll your hips with him, prolonging it for as much as you can. his eyes roll. he's in heaven.

finally, you eventually pull beel off, this time with more effort- he suckles you all the while, greedy to keep you in, and finally separates with a final yank and a satisfying pop. “tastes so good.” he drools, still panting, rubbing his cheek against your thigh, a slow, satisfied look creeping into his dewy eyes.

he rubs his cheek against your palm happily when you settle it down on him, like a cat, not caring about the smearing of drool or lipstick or cum. the heat in him hasn't quelled, but he's more sated now with a bellyful of your hot cum. his favorite snack. your other hand fidgets with his chest and he squeaks when you tweak his nipples, pulling your cock free from under his lingerie with a lewd, sticky sound.

he almost thinks you're done until you knock your calf up, right against his cock- he moans suddenly and jerks his hips down to meet you, gripping your spit-stained jeans.

"we're not done yet, don't worry." your fist returns to his hair and pulls him up higher and higher, knee firm between his legs, until you can pepper his jaw with kisses. "don't you want me to fuck you like a good girl, too, beel?"