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bloodreinasbathwater · 3 months

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It's Always Been You

Part 5

Jack Hughes X F!Reader (Childhood Best friend)

a.n: Don't beat me up guys. I know this damn chapter took forever but fr I didn't know where to take this chapter, I was going to start with a flashback, so it wasn't boring but even that was boring. so after the long-awaited hiatus here is the next chapter!!!

Warnings: anxiety, kissing, eventual smut (part 6), arguments, unrequited love, ignore the mentions of summer I was to lazy to remove them lol.

Word Count - 4,163

Summary : When do you finally accept that it's time to move on? When do you finally admit that everything you fought so hard to forget is exactly what you're meant to remember for the rest of your life? How long can he pretend that it hasn't always been you?

Jacks masterlist

The Michigan sun streamed through the gauzy curtains of the guest room, the faint light of the morning sun illuminated her features, showcasing her furrowed brow and pensive eyes as she stirred awake.

For a blissful moment, she forgot where she was—and why her heart felt so heavy. Then reality crashed over her like a wave, and she remembered: Jack's family home, the ill-fated confession, and the potential love that she left back in Jersey.

Y/N sat up, running her fingers through her tangled hair, which was tousled from sleep. The distant laughter from downstairs was like music to her ears, a sound that she had grown to love —Jack's chuckle unmistakable even from afar. Her heart clenched. How was she supposed to act normal when every fiber of her being ached to be near him?

Her eyes darted towards her phone, resting on the soft sheets next to her. The glowing screen illuminated a new message and a missed call from Liam, causing her heart to flutter with anticipation and guilt. Ignoring it, she tossed the phone aside and decided to get up and get dressed.

She dressed slowly, each movement deliberate as she tried to delay the inevitable. The soft cotton of her favorite t-shirt offered little comfort as she pulled it over her head. It smelled faintly of home, of simpler times when loving Jack from afar seemed enough.

Hesitantly, Y/N made her way down the worn staircase, each creak of the wood echoing in her ears. Her heart raced as she prepared to face him, unsure of what the outcome would be. The aroma of coffee and bacon guided her to the kitchen, where Jack stood at the stove, spatula in hand.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he greeted, his voice carrying a hint of playful teasing. "Thought you might sleep through the whole trip," he added, his tone lighthearted yet genuine. He flashed that crooked smile that never failed to make her knees weak.

Y/N forced a laugh, hoping it sounded genuine. "And miss out on your world-famous pancakes? Never."

She slid onto a stool at the kitchen island, acutely aware of the distance between them—both physical and emotional. Jack moved around the kitchen with easy grace, and Y/N found herself tracking his every movement. The flex of his forearms as he flipped a pancake, the way his t-shirt stretched across his shoulders when he reached for a plate.

"Earth to Y/N," Jack's voice cut through her reverie. She blinked and looked up to see him staring at her with a mixture of amusement and concern, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She realized with a start that he must have asked her a question while she was lost in her own world.

"Sorry, what?" she mumbled, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

"I asked if you wanted blueberries in your pancakes. You okay? You seem a million miles away."

If only he knew how present she was—how every cell in her body seemed attuned to his presence. "I'm fine," she lied smoothly. "Just a little tired. And yes to blueberries, please."

As Jack turned back to the stove, Y/N caught a flicker of something in his eyes. Was it longing? Regret? Or just her imagination playing cruel tricks? She pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the plate he set before her.

They ate in companionable silence, but Y/N was hyperaware of every accidental brush of their hands, every shared glance. The pancakes tasted like sawdust in her mouth as she struggled to maintain the facade of normalcy.

"So," Jack said, breaking the silence, "we were thinking of taking the boat out today. Weather's perfect for it, just a little chilly."

Y/N's stomach dropped. The thought of being trapped on a small boat with Jack, pretending everything was fine, seemed unbearable. "Oh, um, actually..." she started, scrambling for an excuse.

Jack's smile was encouraging, but Y/N could see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes at her hesitant response. Just then, Luke appeared in the doorway, hair tousled from sleep.

"Morning, everyone," he said, his smile bright as he made his way to Y/N. He dropped a kiss on her cheek, and she saw Jack's jaw tighten almost imperceptibly.

"Luke," Y/N said, an idea forming. "Jack was just telling me about going out on the boat. What do you think about staying behind with me instead? I'm not really feeling up to it, and I'd love to explore the yard a bit."

She saw a flicker of something cross Jack's face before he masked it with a nonchalant shrug. "Sure, if that's what you want. Daphne and I can take my parents out."

The mention of Daphne sent a fresh wave of pain through Y/N's chest, a sharp ache that tightened her throat. Her eyes flickered with a hint of hurt before she quickly masked it.

She forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes, which darted away to avoid revealing too much. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. "Sounds great," she managed to say, her voice strained. "You guys have fun."

…

As they finished breakfast and plans were made for the day, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that she was standing on the edge of a precipice. Every interaction with Jack felt charged, laden with unspoken words and suppressed emotions.

She watched him as he cleaned up the kitchen, his movements efficient and familiar. How many mornings had they spent like this, comfortable in each other's presence? Now, every moment felt like a bittersweet reminder of what she couldn't have.

When Jack's hand accidentally brushed hers as he reached for her empty plate, Y/N felt a jolt of electricity run through her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world fell away. There was something in Jack's gaze—a softness, a question—that made her breath catch.

But then Luke's arm snaked around her waist, breaking the spell. "Ready to go for that walk?" he asked, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Y/N nodded, tearing her eyes away from Jack. As she let Luke lead her outside, she couldn't help but glance back. Jack stood in the doorway, watching them go, an unreadable expression on his face.

The air was thick with the scent of pine and possibilities as Y/N stepped onto the porch. She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head of thoughts of Jack. But even as she walked away, she could feel the invisible thread that connected them, pulling taut with every step.

The afternoon sun hung high in the cloudless Michigan sky, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in Y/N's chest. She stood on the weathered dock, watching as Jack's family bustled around, preparing for their boat outing. The gentle lapping of water against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the chaos but did little to calm her racing thoughts.

Jack emerged from the boathouse, his chestnut hair pushed back carelessly, revealing the strong angles of his face. The pale blue shirt he wore clung to his athletic frame, bringing out the cerulean depths of his eyes - eyes that seemed to seek Y/N's gaze with an intensity that made her breath catch.

She found herself drinking in the sight of him, memorizing every detail as if it might be the last time she'd see him like this: carefree, relaxed, and heartbreakingly handsome.

As Jack approached, carrying a cooler, Y/N caught a whiff of his cologne - a woodsy scent that reminded her of countless shared adventures and unspoken longings. She fought the urge to close her eyes and lose herself in the familiar aroma.

"Sure you don't want to join us?" Jack asked, his voice low and tinged with something Y/N couldn't quite place. Was it hope? Regret?

Before she could respond, a melodious laugh cut through the air. Daphne sauntered down the dock, her presence as imposing as it was graceful.

She was the epitome of old money elegance, from her designer dress to her oversized sunglasses. Her honey-blonde hair fell in big, bouncy curls reminiscent of a 1970s fashion icon, framing a face that belonged on magazine covers.

"Oh, Jack!" Daphne called out, her voice saccharine sweet. "Don't forget the picnic basket I prepared. Remember how we used to love our little sunset dinners on the lake?"

Y/N felt her stomach twist, the image of Jack and Daphne sharing romantic moments on the boat searing itself into her mind. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain her composure.

Jack's eyes flickered between Y/N and Daphne, a conflicted expression clouding his features. "Right," he muttered, "I'll grab it."

As he turned to head back to the house, Y/N couldn't help but notice the way his gaze lingered on her, a silent plea in his eyes that she couldn't decipher. The moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and suppressed emotions.

Daphne, not oblivious to the tension, sidled up to Jack, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his arm. "We should recreate one of our romantic sunset cruises," she purred, loud enough for Y/N to hear. "For old times' sake."

The suggestion hung in the air like a challenge. Y/N felt a surge of emotions - jealousy, hurt, and an overwhelming desire to stake her claim. Before she could stop herself, words tumbled from her lips, sharp and biting.

"I'm sure Jack's made plenty of new memories since then," Y/N said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "No need to dwell on the past, right?"

The dock fell silent, the only sound the gentle creaking of the boat against its moorings. Jack's head snapped up, his eyes wide as they met Y/N's, there was surprise there.

Daphne's smile faltered for a moment before she recovered, tightening her grip on Jack's arm. "Of course," she replied, her tone icy. "Though some memories are worth revisiting, wouldn't you agree, Jack?"

Jack stood frozen between the two women, the conflict evident on his face. His eyes darted between Y/N and Daphne, as if he were trying to solve an impossible equation. "I, uh..." he stammered, clearly at a loss for words.

A thick atmosphere of unease hung in the air, causing Jack's family to glance curiously at Y/N as they loaded the boat. She could feel their questioning stares, as if they could see the unspoken connection between her and Jack that she was trying to ignore. It seemed like everyone knew something that they didn't, except for the two of them.

Luke appeared at Y/N's side, sliding a lanky arm around her shoulders. "Everything okay here?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Y/N leaned into him, grateful for the support even as her heart ached for Jack. "Everything's fine," she replied, forcing a smile. "Just wishing everyone a good trip."

As the two began to board the boat, Y/N couldn't help but notice the way Jack's eyes kept finding her, even as Daphne chatted animatedly at his side. There was a longing in his gaze that mirrored the ache in her own chest, a silent communication that spoke volumes.

Daphne, sensing the shift in Jack's attention, redoubled her efforts. She laughed louder, touched him more frequently, her actions screaming of desperation and possessiveness. It was clear she felt threatened, her carefully crafted plans unraveling in the face of the unspoken connection between Jack and Y/N.

As the boat pulled away from the dock, Y/N stood with Luke and his parents, watching it disappear into the distance. The sun glinted off the water, momentarily blinding her. When she blinked away the spots in her vision, she could have sworn she saw Jack standing at the back of the boat, still looking in her direction.

"You okay?" Luke asked, giving her a gentle squeeze.

Y/N nodded, not trusting her voice. How could she explain the tumult of emotions raging inside her? The love, the longing, the frustration, and the glimmer of hope that refused to be extinguished?

she turned to walk back to the house with Luke, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. And as much as it terrified her, a part of her welcomed it. Because pretending not to be in love with Jack was becoming harder with each passing moment.

The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Y/N and Luke sat on the porch swing, the gentle creaking of its chains providing a soothing rhythm to their conversation.

Despite the picturesque setting, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in her stomach since the boat departed. Luke watched her, his brow furrowed with concern. He nudged her gently with his elbow. "Hey, space cadet. Where'd you go?"

Y/N blinked, forcing a smile. "Sorry, just... thinking."

"About Jack?" Luke asked, his tone free of judgment.

She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. This was what she loved about Luke - his ability to read her, to understand without pushing. "Am I that obvious?"

Luke chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Only to someone who knows you as well as I do, sis."

The term of endearment brought a genuine smile to Y/N's face. Though they'd been dating for a short while, their relationship had always felt more familial than romantic. Luke was the brother she never had, a safe harbor in the storm of her feelings for Jack.

"Want to talk about it?" Luke offered, his arm coming around her shoulders in a comforting squeeze.

Y/N shook her head. "Not really. Distract me instead?"

Luke was quiet for a moment, then sat up straighter, causing Y/N to lift her head from his shoulder. "Actually," he said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice, "I've got some news that might do the trick."

Y/N turned to face him, curiosity piqued by the gleam in his eye. "Oh yeah? What's up?"

Luke took a deep breath, barely containing his grin. "So, you know how I've been waiting to hear back about the draft?"

Y/N nodded, her heart beginning to race with anticipation. "Did you...?"

"I got drafted!" Luke exclaimed, his face breaking into a wide smile. "I'm moving to Jersey after the summer. I'll be playing for the same team!"

For a moment, Y/N sat in stunned silence, processing the information. Then, as the reality of Luke's words sank in, her eyes widened. "Are you serious?" she asked, her voice rising with excitement.

Luke nodded, his grin growing impossibly wider. "Dead serious. Got the call yesterday, but I wanted to tell you in person."

"Oh my god, Luke!" Y/N squealed, launching herself into his arms. The porch swing swayed dangerously with their movement, but neither of them cared. "I can't believe it! This is amazing!"

Luke laughed, wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug. "Believe it, sis. Your boy's going pro!"

Y/N pulled back, holding Luke at arm's length to look at him properly. His face was alight with joy, and she felt a surge of pride and affection for him. "I'm so proud of you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You've worked so hard for this."

Luke's expression softened, and he tucked a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear in a brotherly gesture. "Couldn't have done it without my number one cheerleader," he said with a wink.

Y/N punched his arm playfully. "Oh please, as if you need any more ego boosting."

They fell into comfortable laughter, the kind that comes from years of shared jokes and mutual understanding. As their mirth subsided, Y/N found herself marveling at the easy camaraderie between them. Luke had been her rock, her confidant, through all the ups and downs of her unrequited love for Jack. And now, he was embarking on this new adventure.

"So, Jersey huh?" Y/N mused, settling back into the swing. "That's not too far. I expect free tickets to all the games."

Luke grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "You got it. VIP treatment for my favorite girl."

Y/N leaned into him, feeling a mix of excitement for Luke and a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving him behind for the next couple months. "I'm going to miss you, how am I supposed to deal with Jack all alone until fall?" she admitted softly.

Luke squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, none of that. Summers gonna pass in the blink of an eye. Plus, think of all the headaches I’m gonna cause when I move in."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress her smile. "Always looking out for me, aren't you?"

"Someone's got to," Luke replied, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of sincerity. "Especially with all this Jack drama."

Y/N tensed slightly at the mention of Jack, but Luke quickly steered the conversation back to his draft news, regaling her with details of the call and his future teammates. As they talked and laughed, the sun dipping lower on the horizon, Y/N felt some of the day's tension melt away.

…

The boat glided smoothly across the lake's surface, leaving a trail of ripples in its wake. Jack sat at the stern, his eyes fixed on the shrinking shoreline where he'd last seen Y/N. The fading sunlight caught the pale blue of his shirt, making his eyes appear even more vivid than usual.

Daphne sauntered over, her hips swaying with exaggerated grace. She held two glasses of champagne, bubbles fizzing merrily against the crystal. "Here you go, Jackie," she cooed, using the pet name that had once made his heart race but now only made him cringe inwardly.

"Thanks," Jack mumbled, accepting the glass without enthusiasm.

Undeterred by his lackluster response, Daphne settled herself next to him, pressing her leg against his in a way that was clearly meant to be alluring. "Remember our first boat trip together?" she asked, her voice dripping with nostalgia. "We watched the sunset right here."

Jack shifted uncomfortably, trying to put some distance between them without being overtly rude. "Yeah, I remember," he said noncommittally.

Daphne leaned in closer, the overpowering scent of her perfume suffocating him with its sickly sweetness. "We could recreate it, you know," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "For old times' sake."

Jack felt a twinge of something - nostalgia, perhaps, or the ghost of old feelings - and for a moment, he almost considered it. Daphne was familiar, safe in a way. She represented a simpler time, before these confusing feelings for Y/N had taken root.

But as he turned to respond, his eyes caught sight of the house in the distance. Even from here, he could make out two figures on the porch - Y/N and Luke, their heads close together in conversation. The sight sent a jolt through him, clearing away any lingering thoughts of rekindling things with Daphne.

Jack shook his head, gently but firmly removing Daphne's hand from his arm. "I'm sorry, Daph," he said, his voice soft but resolute. "But that's not going to happen again."

Daphne's perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But why not? We were so good together, Jackie. We could be again."

Jack took a deep breath, surprised by the relief he felt at finally voicing what he'd been feeling. "Because... I think I have feelings for Y/N."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Jack himself seemed surprised by his admission, as if hearing it out loud had solidified something he'd only half-acknowledged to himself.

"Feelings I don't quite understand yet," he continued, more to himself than to Daphne. "But they're there, and they're real."

Daphne's expression cycled rapidly through surprise, hurt, and finally settled on a mix of resignation and irritation. She plopped down next to him with a dramatic sigh, all pretense of seduction gone. "God, Jack," she said, rolling her eyes. "I could have told you that."

Jack blinked, startled. "What? How?"

Daphne took a long sip of her champagne before answering. "The night I came to see you after your game? The way you talked about her, the look in your eyes... It was obvious to anyone paying attention."

Jack sat in stunned silence, processing this revelation. Had his feelings been that transparent? And if so, how had he missed them for so long?

As the boat continued its lazy path across the lake, Jack found his gaze drawn once again to the distant shore, to the house where Y/N waited. For the first time, he allowed himself to fully acknowledge the depth of his feelings for her, and the enormity of what that might mean.

…

Dark clouds rolled in from the horizon, their ominous rumble a stark contrast to the earlier calm. Jack guided the boat back to the dock, his knuckles white on the wheel as he fought against the choppy waters. The first drops of rain began to fall, creating tiny ripples across the lake's surface.

As they approached the dock, a crack of thunder split the air. Jack quickly secured the boat, then extended a hand to help Daphne disembark. She took it without a word, her earlier flirtatiousness replaced by a cold silence. As soon as her feet touched the wooden planks, she brushed past Jack, heading towards the house without a backward glance.

Jack stood for a moment, letting the light drizzle soak through his pale blue shirt. His eyes scanned the porch, searching for Y/N, but she was nowhere to be seen. A memory flickered in his mind - of a young Y/N, hair in pigtails, running to hide in the garden whenever she was upset.

Following an instinct he didn't quite understand, Jack made his way towards the old garden. The rain was falling harder now, plastering his hair to his forehead and blurring his vision. But he pressed on, drawn by an invisible thread.

As he rounded the corner, he saw her. Y/N stood by the fishpond, her back to him, seemingly oblivious to the rain soaking through her clothes. The sight of her, vulnerable and alone, made Jack's heart clench.

"Y/N?" he called out softly, not wanting to startle her.

She turned slowly, her eyes widening as she saw him. "Jack? What are you doing here?"

He took a step closer, raindrops clinging to his eyelashes. "I was looking for you. I thought... I thought we could talk."

Y/N shook her head, a pained expression crossing her face. "I can't, Jack. I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?" he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

"This!" she exclaimed, gesturing between them. "Pretending everything's normal when it's not. I can't be around you and act like my heart isn't breaking every single time."

Jack felt as if the ground had shifted beneath his feet. "Y/N, I-"

But she cut him off, words pouring out of her like a dam bursting. "How long, Jack? How long can you pretend that it hasn't always been me? By your side, helping you through everything, loving you for who you are?"

The rain fell harder, mirroring the intensity of Y/N's emotions. Jack stood frozen, the weight of her words washing over him.

"I've been there through everything," Y/N continued, her voice cracking. "Your first game, your injuries, your breakups. I've loved you through it all, Jack. And I can't pretend anymore that it doesn't kill me to see you with someone else, to know that you don't feel the same way."

Thunder rumbled overhead, punctuating her words. Jack took a step forward, reaching out to her. "Y/N, please-"

But before he could finish, a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the garden, followed immediately by a deafening crack of thunder. Y/N jumped, instinctively moving closer to Jack. For a moment, they stood there, inches apart, rain streaming down their faces. Jack could see the pain in Y/N's eyes, the vulnerability, and something in him finally clicked into place.

"You're right," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the storm.

Y/N blinked, confusion replacing the hurt in her eyes. "What?"

Jack reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. "You're right. It's always been you, Y/N. I've just been too blind to see it."

The world seemed to hold its breath as they stood there, the rain falling around them, the air electric with more than just the storm. Jack leaned in, his intention clear, but before their lips could meet, a voice called out from the house.

"Y/N? Jack? Where are you guys? It's pouring out here!"

The spell broken, Y/N and Jack stepped apart, both breathing heavily. They stared at each other, a thousand unspoken words passing between them.

"We should go in," Y/N said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. Jack nodded, unable to trust his voice. As they walked back to the house, side by side but not touching, the air between them crackled with possibility and unresolved tension.

...

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hiatuswhore · 4 months

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𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝒱 — 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓃

♕ A/N: Yeah so this hiatus has been so criminal. Honestly my “writers block” has just been insecurity. I’ve gotten into this bad habit of comparing my writing styles to others and that is such a viscous and toxic self attack. Long story short, I’m a little dummy who needs to remember why I got into fanfic writing in the first place, to have fun. If you feel like it. Please please please send feedback. There’s one final part left. Maybe some bonus chapters with the new season.

♕ SUMMARY: Oh, the most scandalous season of the year has come to pass. After quite the successful year for the Bridgerton’s the eldest son plans to throw his hat in the ring. Concurrently the Sharma sisters do just the same. One a spinster, the other hopeful romantic, and the middle daughter? What can be said about such a force that is not said when she enters the room. Good luck to all who pursue her.

♕ WORD COUNT: 4.7K

♕ WARNINGS: None

previous — Masterlist — next

BLINK. SMILE. NOD. You remind yourself every few seconds. Edwina leads the conversation with a jubilant smile.

Meanwhile, you tally each time Kate’s gaze meets your own as she watches you walk a tightrope, waiting for an inevitable fall. You sit out of place, Kate on your right and your mother on your left. Both rubbing the mustard yellow onto Edwina’s arms, your nose scrunching at the pungent wafts of Haldi. Each time Edwina’s gaze meets your own, you smile. You tilt your head, doing what you do best, offering your unwavering support—no matter how much your chest knots.

“Didi, are you okay? You are so quiet,” Edwina says, leaning forward to capture your gaze. You smile, lying through your teeth, “You are to be wed soon. I shall miss you, is all Bon.”

“You must calm yourself, Bon. Keep still,” Kate smiles down at a jittery Edwina. Her joy practically spills out, her every move indicating pure excitement.

”It is all so strange. I have faced a thousand tomorrows, but they all have been leading to this one,” You pause. Tomorrow. Every laugh, jest, slight—all of it leading to tomorrow. The day you make a fool of yourself—the mark of your first-ever regret. Though your mother speaks, the words do not reach you. The sinking in your chest renders you silent, almost queasy.

”Oh, it has...caused you doubts?” Kate’s cautious tone has your ears perking up, and your absent gaze finds Edwina. Your mother nudges you with a gentle smile, a reminder of her presence.

”Bringing the wedding forward is a sign of genuine feeling, but...well,” Edwina pauses, a sigh leaving her lips as she finds her words. Your heart was banging against your ribcage as Edwina glanced at you. “It has unnerved me. Didi, perhaps you should truly consider Lord Beauregard’s proposal. He’s a wonderful companion to you, and he seems to care. That way, we can navigate all this together.”

”I don’t know, Bon. It’s a lot to consider,” You tilt your head, a tight-lipped smile across your lips, "but right now is not about me or Lord Beauregard. It’s about you and the Viscount.”

“Your sister is right. Rest assured, Edwina, the Viscount adores you. He has devotedly courted you and made his intentions clear from our first arrival. Even going out of his way to procure (Y/n)’s and Kate’s approval. There is no lady better suited for the Viscount,” Your mother’s adoration beams on her prized child, your expression faltering nearly imperceptibly.

“I just—I still wish that when he looks at me, I could be certain that he truly loves me. Like—like—“ Edwina looks around as though the words sit in the room with all of you. Then her gaze finds yours again, “Like how Lord Beauregard looks at (Y/n). His fondness for

her is so evident, written right on his face. I fear, in fact, that the Viscount does not look at me often enough to even tell.”

Your mother and Kate glance at each other with a collective sigh. You lower your gaze, fiddling with the top lace of your peach gown and swallowing the sizzling golf ball in your throat. Kate speaks softly, this time avoiding your direction entirely, “Looks can be powerful, Bon, but also fleeting. Displays of mere passion, perhaps. Nothing more.”

”So the Viscount feels little passion for me?” Edwina exclaims, amusement dancing in her gaze as your mother chuckles. You force a chuckle from your lips, quiet and timid, the antithesis of your very being.

Clearing your throat, forcing a smile to the surface, you grin, “What Kate is failing at saying is that true love is different. It’s complicated and unpredictable. That’s the fun of it. It’s there when you least expect it. You worry now, but fear not, Bon, when it clicks, it clicks.”

“Since when have you become so knowledgeable about love, Miss, avoiding marriage and love?” Your mother teases. Each of your giggles fills the room, and for a moment, only a moment, the dread no longer exists. For a moment you are back in India, in your childhood home.

You cringe at the sudden intrusion, turmeric overwhelming your nostrils as Edwina’s hand gently swipes the mixture across your cheek. Her saccharine giggle contrasted with your wide-eyed stare. She speaks with a whimsical glint in her eyes. One like your own but doe-eyed and hopeful, not calculated and mischievous. “It is said, when spread on an unmarried person, Haldi will help them find a worthy partner that brings the complicated and unpredictable excitement too.”

”Well, Haldi can mind their business,” You tilt your head with a sarcastic smile, earning your mother's pointed stare. Kate chuckles and shakes her. Edwina turns to Kate, who offers a warning stare.

“Now, now. You shall receive it too,” Edwina says, stroking the Haldi across Kate’s cheeks. You fail to ignore the Haldi on your cheeks. It sits like a reminder that tomorrow will come whether you are prepared or not. You shall watch him marry Edwina. Your sister, nieces, and nephews shall be his—but never you.

“Hey!” You exclaim, once again pulled from your thoughts as your mother spreads Haldi across your chest. Reaching into the mixture only takes seconds before the four of you make a mess of it. The giggles are seemingly endless.

Despite the joyous moment, it’s fleeting as the hours seem to fly. Before you know it, you stand in a lavender gown that matches Kate's. You maintain an expression void of emotion, seemingly zoning out—the subtle indicators, near imperceptible. Light sweat coated your brow, and deep sighs left you as though the air was limited. You thank every and any god above for the smokescreen that keeps your beloved family from noticing. Sitting by the window as servants help Edwina prepare, you watch as Kate retrieves the gold bracelet with emeralds dancing across the band.

Edwina stands in front of the full-length mirror. Her eyebrows pinch at the sight she catches in the reflection. Her smile was curious and of awe, “Didi? What are those?”

”I brought them with us from home. I knew this season would be a success,” Kate smiles down at Edwina as she closely inspects them with a warm gaze. You keep your gaze outside the window, willing yourself to ignore every ailment that plagues you. Far too busy pondering potential ways to avoid attending Edwina’s pending nuptials.

Edwina’s head tilts as she searches for familiarity, “they are quite beautiful. How have I never seen them before?”

“They belonged to my mother. Amma wore them on her wedding day and saved them,” Edwina asks if they were saved for Kate. Kate chuckles lightly, “I brought them for you. I insist, beautiful bangles for a beautiful bride.”

”Will you wear them with me?” Edwina asks, but Kate shakes her head, assuring Edwina she will be no bride any time soon. Edwina’s gaze shifts to you, “Well then, Didi, you may very well be a bride soon. Could you wear one with me?”

“Bon—“ You sigh, your gaze meets Kate. The pity in your eyes only furthers the stir in your chest.

“I’m so nervous, but you are the bravest person I know. I don’t know, it may be silly, but wearing this, I shall have a piece of Kate with me up at the altar and knowing you’re wearing it too,” Edwina pauses, her gaze pleading as she holds the bracelet out to you, “It’ll be like we’re in this together. Maybe I can channel some of your courage.”

At the touch of your fingertips, the metal chills against your skin as it soon shackles you to your living nightmare. As Edwina returns to getting ready, you visibly falter for the first time. While your sweet little sister fails to see it, Kate’s quickly at your side. She excuses the both of you slyly, your hands trembling in hers as you both exit the room.

“Bon—“ Kate says, but you offer her a sharp, “don’t.”

You walk with haste to the nearest glass, throwing down a quick shot, ignoring Kate’s advisory against alcohol. Your eyes are misty as your defenses crumble around you. Taking a deep breath, you quickly steel yourself, marching back into the room, rendering Kate unable to console you.

It all passes in a blur as you stare absently out of the window once more. The arriving guests. The bracelets. The wedding gown. Your mother's gushing of Edwina’s beauty in her gown only fuels the fire that slowly burns from the inside out.

“Didi,” you gaze from the window onto your approaching sister. She smiles warmly, taking both your hands. Your heart caught in your throat when she said, “You love him.”

“Wha—I—uh?” You stammer, eyes widening as you try to wrap your brain around her easygoing persona.

“You should not be afraid to tell Lord Beauregard how you feel. You have been nothing like yourself, and I’ve forgotten you have not seen Lord Beauregard in some time now, and you shall see him today. Just tell him,” Edwina says, smiling sweetly. The panic fades into a tremendous relief as your shoulders fall.

“Today is your day. Don’t worry about me, Bon,” You smile, gently squeezing her hands.

“Oh, my beautiful girls,” Your mother says, her gaze moving between you. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, her eyebrow pinching, but the door opening steals her attention away. Concurrently, your body tenses.

“Come. Let us put all the nasty gossip behind us for once and for all,” Your mother stands, taking one of your hands and Edwina’s. Kate joins, taking your own and Edwina’s free hands. She offers you a comforting squeeze. “Let us give the ton a wedding to remember and show them who we truly are.”

Outside the curtains, you stand at Kate's side as if a prisoner were standing before the guillotine. Your corset seemingly constricting as your mind fails to move your legs. You grip Kate’s hand tighter, your ears ringing so loudly you can hardly hear your whisper to her, “I fear I cannot do this, Didi.”

”You are the strongest person I know, Bon. You can. I’m with you all the way. For better or worse,” she whispers. Looking up at her, you blink back tears, and a nervous chuckle leaves you with a final quick whisper: “It sounds as if we are to be wed.”

Kate lets out a soft as she gently pulls you along with her. Servants pull the sheer curtains away as you both pass through. Your gaze finds William in seconds, sitting with Aunt the Queen. His gaze was cold and focused on the groom. You never meet the groom's gaze despite it searing a hole into your head.

You curtsy to the Queen, and William’s gaze remains behind you. As you take your place behind Kate, your gaze meets the grooms for only a second—your breath hitch as you approach the entrance, awaiting the inevitable. A smile takes your face at the sight of your mother and Edwina. Despite everything, your dear little sister always amazes you with her beautiful presence.

Archbishop begins the ceremony, but his words do not reach you. The ringing of your ears grows louder, your right hand soon fiddling at your side. Your smile falters into an absent stare as the bangle on your wrist becomes more noticeable than the gown that covers much of your skin. You let out a shaky exhale, your left hand crushing the stems of your bouquet.

Squaring your shoulders, you take a deep breath and stare forward. A weak smile on your lips as Benedict shoots you a wink—the calm brief as your gaze meets the groom. You refocus on Benedict, but it’s mere seconds, and you both return. The bobbing of his Adams apple, light sweat above his brow, his gaze unfocused, hazy—perhaps you imagine it. You are in Edwina’s place, standing before Anthony, not with a joyous smile but a smug one. A reminder that each day would be a challenge, one you’d both happily accept—a future.

“My lord,” The Archbishop shatters the fantasy with a firmness, tearing your gaze from him; you focus on Kate’s shoulder.

A brief reprieve as the wedding crashes violently with the present reality. Your left hand grips the bouquet stems so tightly it rips beneath the force of your palm as your right hand trembles at your side, the bengal sliding menacingly around your wrist. You tense as your racing heart becomes your only focus, clashing with the loud ringing in your ears.

Anthony looks around the room, and again, his gaze finds you. Edwina’s eyebrows pinch as she follows his gaze. You do not look up from Kate’s shoulder, confident that one wrong move shall bring your end. Even as Edwina turns back, prompting Anthony, his gaze flicks to your unwavering stare on Kate’s shoulder. Your trembling hand matches the pace of your raging heart as you force your tears to remain in your lids.

“I, Lord Anthony Bridgerton,” Archbishop recites, his words ringing loudly in your ears as they hit you head-on. The bengal slips from your wrist, releasing you from its confines. Your eyes close with a sigh of relief as everything quiets. Anthony stands before you when your eyes open, holding the bengal out to you. You glance at Kate, her gaze panicked as she looks between Anthony and yourself.

Lifting your hand, you falter for a second; the moment has lasted far longer than it should. Your gaze locks with his own as you reach out cautiously. His thumb brushes against your own faintly at the touch of the metal. Muttering a thank you and apology, you return to your spot with your gaze low and lips pursed, holding the bengal not placing it back on.

“I need a moment!” Edwina shouts, her voice echoing through the silence. Your eyes widen, and she’s rushing down the aisle from the altar before you can even process. A sea of indiscernible chatter fills the room as you watch your mother rush after Edwina. It all soon returns, the ringing in your ears and your chest constricting. William rises from his seat, his gaze gentle as he stares at you. You look everywhere but at Anthony. Kate grabs your hand, pulling you back down the aisle out of the ceremony.

”—we will call for tea, and once you have something in your stomach, you will be strong enough to go back out there. The Viscount—“ You stand in the doorway, Kate standing a few paces in front of you, your mother a few in front of her. Edwina paces the room, taking deep, haggard breaths. Your mother fumbles to recover the moment, “The Viscount will understand, yes Kate? (Y/n), dear, perhaps you might find that tea—“

“It is not tea that I want; it is the truth!” You freeze in place as Edwina looks at you in a way you have never seen her look at anyone. Though words enter your mind, they do not leave your parted lips. Your mother voices her confusion as you stand as a deer in headlights, teary-eyed and guilty. Edwina continues mercilessly, “Still uncharacteristically quiet, sister, how telling of your deceitful nature!”

“I don’t understand what is happening,” Your mother's gaze bounces between you. Kate sidesteps in a failed attempt to hide you from Edwina’s view, your presence only furthering her rage.

“I shall tell you what is going on, Mama. Your daughter does not love chaos, as she claims. She loves destruction! Decimation at the tips of her fingers, slowly poisoning all she touches!” You blink through your tears, unable to find the words or even begin an explanation.

“Edwina—“ Kate interjects and appears to be the only intervention that deters from her verbal assault.

“Oh, you cannot deny it now, Kate! You enable her! You always have. The two of you are constantly deceiving me. Together in your deception! You knew! Didn’t you? You knew of her feelings for him, ” Edwina narrows her eyes at Kate, the implication of her words giving your Mother much-needed clarity. Meeting your mother's gaze, your head tilts, all but pleading for comfort without words.

“Alright, that is enough. No good can come from this at present. Let us all take a moment to calm ourselves, shall we,” Your mother says, moving to Edwina’s side. She sits Edwina down, dissolving into a bundle of tears. You try to voice an apology, but your Mother turns to you, speaking sternly, “I said that is enough. You have done enough today.”

”Mama, please. I didn’t want this, please. I’m sorry,” You cry, panting softly as your words spill out. The ringing in your ears returns and grows louder steadily with each passing second. Kate interjects only to receive the same sternness, “And you. You have kept so very much from me.”

”Mama, please,” You cry; reaching out for her, she pulls away and points to the door.

“Anywhere else right now, (Y/n),” She says. Rushing out of the doors, everything splinters into a heap of colors and sounds. You pant as though you have run miles rather than mere steps. When you rush into the first set of doors you find, you rush past several faces you cannot make out. Your breathing choppy and staggered, your hand trembling without pause as you pace vehemently.

“(Y/n),” You cringe at the sound of your name, shaking your head as sobs rattle you to your core. He takes your hands, guiding you to the floor. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not William. I’ve ruined everything; I’m a terrible sister—a terrible person,” You cry, shaking your head; he places a hand on your cheek, stilling you as he wipes a tear.

“You’re far from a terrible person. Stubborn, sure, but not terrible,” He chuckles, tilting his head down to meet your gaze.

“You don’t understand—“ Panting endlessly, William keeps his gaze locked on you and takes a deep breath in and out. He continues to do so until you follow, and even then, he continues for a few moments.

”I’ve made my intentions with you—my uh, my feelings very clear. And when I realized your impact on Anthony and me, I was angry and jealous. He’s so at ease with you even when you’re annoying him, and you seem to forget anyone else is around when the two of you interact,” William says with a slight smile. Your face falls at his words.

“William, I am so sorry—“ Your voice wavers and William chuckles, shaking his head before you can continue. He nudges your side with a grin.

“No apology needed. I only wish for you to be happy (Y/n) just as I wish for Anthony, and with time, your sister will share this sentiment. Of that, I am sure. I must warn you, though, things will grow far worse before they grow better,” William says, resting your head on his shoulder; he kisses the top of your head. You close your eyes, refocusing on deep breaths.

After a few minutes you clear your throat, “I should go, the last thing I need is another scandal.”

“You’re nothing but trouble, Miss Sharma,” William grins, shaking his head. A giggle leaves you as you wrap your arms around him, squeezing his tight.

”Thank you for this,” You mutter, squeezing a little tighter as he kisses the crown of your head once more. As you head back to the room, you pause as Kate sits outside with her head in her hands. She looks up at the sound of your approaching steps, quickly rising at your sight. Neither of you says a word before silently agreeing you both must face this head-on, accomplices. You knock gently upon the door, and Edwina’s face manages to sink even further at the sight of you.

“What?” She asks coldly; before you can get a word in, Kate inquires about your mother, but Edwina cuts her off, “You seem to know all. How could I possibly offer any insight of my own?”

”Edwina, please. Your anger is with me, not Kate,” You say, earning a huff in response.

“Mother is off, getting some air,” Edwina opens the door wider before moving from it entirely. You take a cautious step inside, still lingering by the door as Kate closes it behind the two of you.

“Edwina, I never wanted to hurt you. By the time I realized, it felt far too late to say something. So, I thought that I would swallow it down to avoid this because I wanted you to

be happy. I know you wanted this badly, but I didn’t realize how deep this ran. But it does not matter; I am unfit to be Viscountess, but you, you’re perfect for it,” Your voice wavers as her teary gaze meets your own. Edwina scoffs, shaking her head.

“He said the same thing. I half expected to discover that the two of you prepared it ahead of time. Perhaps it speaks to your compatibility or your deceitful nature,” Edwina shakes her head at you, her gaze cold as ice.

“Edwina, (Y/n) has always supported. You and I both know she is not deceitful. Misguided, certainly. Stubborn almost all the time. But she’s our sister,” Kate says, eyebrows pinching as her head tilts. Edwina’s gaze bounces between the two of you. Her eyes land on Kate.

“I do not know which pains me more. Both your betrayals or your pity,” Edwina says, her head held high with a conviction you never knew her to be capable of.

“Edwina, we are sisters—“ Kate takes a step toward her, reaching out for her hands but halts at Edwina’s next words, “Half-sister, with the misfortune of having (Y/n) as a sister. I want you both to recognize that I am a grown woman and for the first time in my life, I can make a decision based on what I would like.”

Edwina glances over at you, her at ease presence furthered unraveling your nerves, “I have already imagined the life I would lead with Lord Bridgerton as Viscountess at Aubrey Hall. It lives in my mind and is mine to do with as I like. So, if I choose to marry Anthony, it will be because it pleases me and no one else. I need you both to understand that. If I go through with this wedding, it will have nothing to do with either of you.”

You swallow thickly every version of reality where you have no place in her life evident. Kate's reassurances fall victim to the high pitch. Like nails to a chalkboard in your ears. Your personalized torture.

Kate remains at your side, the silence jarring. Uncertain of an appropriate reaction, you find yourself in a hazy void. You refuse the tears pushing at the edge of your lids, no words in reach to synthesize the depths of the pit in your chest. Time fuses into a distorted blend of unrelenting dread. The footman delivers the summons, the neat handwriting familiar.

Kate hesitates as you ask her to join you. Would it fuel the fire? Further the divide? Perhaps. Even still, you both cross the silks and satins of the entryway—the wedding hall. It's still as breathtaking as you all left it.

”You sent word for me?” Your eyebrows pinch as Anthony's words linger in the air. Kate answers as your lips merely part, and no words leave you. You glance at Kate, who mirrors your visible confusion. Approaching footsteps carrying the answers to each lingering question.

Edwina enters like the calm before a storm. Her hands clasped in front of her, her gait determined, and her mindset. She passes Kate without sparing her a glance, Edwina’s gaze bouncing between you and Anthony, “I have made my decision. I thought it best that you both hear it from me.”

“Edwina, perhaps we should speak privately,” Kate suggests, earning a mirthless chuckle.

“No, and quite frankly, I am giving our sister a courtesy I was not granted,” Edwina keeps her head high, her presence delicate yet commanding. She turns to Anthony, who has not looked away from you. A rare sight of pure vulnerability in your eyes as you look at Edwina. Silently pleading for forgiveness. A soft sigh leaves Edwina as she keeps her eyes on Anthony, not continuing until she has his full attention, “I cannot marry you, Lord Bridgerton. You cannot provide me with what it is I want. What it is that I deserve. What everyone deserves. I may not know exactly what true love feels like, but I certainly know what it is not. It is not deception or, wandering eyes, or a role to be fulfilled. I cannot marry you because I cannot betray myself. You will never meet my eyes in the same manner that you met my sisters on that altar today. You will never...”

Edwina falters, a sigh escaping her as she briefly glances toward you and back to Anthony, “You will never look at me the same way. I would be your Viscountess, your wife, the mother of your children, but I would never be yours because you’ll be hers.”

Your eyes find Anthony as her words seep into your bones. Edwina addresses you and Kate with words of contempt and eyes of sorrow. Her retreating form leaves a heavy silence as Kate rushes after her. Neither of you move, Anthony at the altar and yourself a few paces down the aisle.

“I thought I taught Edwina nothing, but I fear she too shares the ability to scorch the earth in a fit of rage,” You chuckle, the tight-lipped smile dissolving into a huff, “I have ruined everything.”

”You speak as though you did it alone,” Anthony says, meeting your gaze in the same spot where he was meant to recite his vows.

“I should go,” You whisper, watching as he glances off, seemingly pondering something. Clearing your throat, you square your shoulders, “Lord Bridgerton.”

”You should stay,” He says, an odd ease to his demeanor. You can only wonder if he feels the turmoil that rages within you. He tilts his head, “Your sister is braver and wiser than us both. She had the courage to act on what she sensed between us. And here we are, you ready to flee and myself standing perfectly still. We’ve felt it for months.”

You inhale sharply, and the reality is apparent: you cannot escape this. Speaking hardly above a whisper, you fidget with the skirts of your dress, “I’ve lit more than enough fires today. If I were wise, I would go.”

”Then, only for a moment, my pyromaniac, play the fool with me. Humor me in this inevitability, a fate that cannot be. Explore the untenable depths of our desires for this moment only before we face the reality waiting for us out there,” Anthony holds out his hand to you. His smile does not reach his eyes as you stare at his hand before you.

A sigh leaves you as you chew on your bottom lip. You cross your arms, raising your head high, “If I am to play the fool, you will have to address me by my proper honorific, of course.”

”And what’s that?” Anthony’s eyebrows pinch as you turn your head.

“Viscount Bridgerton, of course,” You smirk as the realization slowly dawns upon him. A hearty laugh leaves his lips as you accept his hand with a gentle grin.

“The sky could be falling in, and you would find a way to jest,” Anthony smiles as he shakes his head. You nod, chuckling beneath his gaze, far closer than you were a few seconds prior. Neither of you, aware of when or how you got so close. The warmth brings a merriment that blurs the line between what can and cannot be.

The violins.

The flowers.

The gossip eager Ton.

The bride and groom at an altar without wedding bells. ”I fear I have destroyed my relationship with my sister.”

“And I, with my best friend.”

You give his hands a gentle squeeze on your own, gasping as he pulls you forward. The touch of your lips light at the climax of your shared fantasy. As you both pull apart, the warmth chills. You are not husband and wife; you are a scandal.

A smudge on both of your reputations.

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strongheartneteyam · 7 months

Text

I wet you like water but she stained you like blood.

Chapter 4

Pairing: widowed!dilf!Jake Sully x younger!female!human reader

CW: jealous-in-an-unhealthy-way-Jake, Jake and y/n verbally fight because of complicated feelings, angst!!, heated make out session, possessive Jake, TRIGGER WARNING for Jake being toxic and unreasonable, Jake apologizes afterwards bc he's good after all, Daddy kink (nothing explicit but still the kink is there)

So… after this fic being on an incredibly long hiatus, I'm back with another chapter. I had this in my Google Docs for way too long but I was not sure if I wanted the story to go this way but I guess I do. I'm extremely insecure about this chapter, so, please, leave me your opinion about it. Love you guys <3

Not proofread. I'm sick n sleepy. Sorry :(

Chapter 3 𓆩♡𓆪

You know I'm good at keeping secrets, you know that you're my weakness and I'll always repeat it

If I could hold onto the feeling back before your words lost their meaning

There's no need for apologies 'cause, honestly, fuck your honesty, I'm done

Think you like the insanity

I'm the casualty of your dreams 'cause I'm not the one

casualty of your dreams (Maggie Lindemann)

𓆩♡𓆪

Rumor had it there was a human girl that worked in the lab being all lovey-dovey with an Omatikaya young guy. They had gotten it from the fact that you were just talking to and smiling at an Omatikaya male you had met in one of your walks in the woods to collect samples. You had just found out the na'vi could be as fond of gossiping as humans… Great. As the word runs fast as the wind on the Pandora planet, three days after you finally see Jake again. He had been gone for 3 whole days, not even paying a quick visit to the lab to see you for some minutes, really early in the morning, - like he always used to do - when he was already awake to do some Olo'eyktan tasks and you were up with your face buried in science books about extraterrestrial flowers and herbs, a cup of hot black coffee on the table, right next to your hand for easy access, as you survived only because of the caffeine, having to wake up so early almost every day. Sometimes being a xenobotanist truly sucked...

"Who's that Omatikaya boy you were seen with? People are saying you were all over each other." Jake spit, rage and jealousy burning his insides, bursting like a bomb inside of the cold, filled with cold air coming from the air conditioner room you were in, sitting down, taking notes with an electronic pen in your tablet about the herb samples you were conducting a research about.

There were microscopes, high tech computers, Pandoran plants samples and xenobiology books all around.

"What?!" You said, startled by his sudden, noisy appearance.

"Don't pretend you have no clue! You were there, y/n." Jake says, a cold smirk filled with anger adorning his face, the feeling of his heart being crashed and bruised even stronger than when he first heard the news harassing him

"What the hell, Jake?!" You say loudly, mad at him "why are you being so rude to me?!" Your heart was beating fast inside your chest cavity. You couldn't believe Jake was treating you that way. "Why did you burst into the room like that, without even knocking on the door, like you usually do?! You scared the shit out of me!"

"Won't you just answer my question already?!" Jake said, in a cutting tone

That was the last straw. You had enough.

You swiftly stood up from the high chair you were sitting on and came closer to Jake, looking up at his usually yellow bright eyes that were now tainted with a dark atmosphere, like a rainy grey cloud was around him, his 9 feet something frame towering over you, but you were so damn angry that you didn't feel a single bit of fear, even knowing he was incredibly mad and seemed out his damn mind and you knew that he could even kill you so goddamn easily if he wanted to. Not that you thought he did. You could never see Jake doing something so horrible, especially to you. It was just a fact: he was ridiculously stronger than you. His height and his muscles, plus the fact he had military training and so much experience at war, making him a dangerous adversary right now. You thanked any Higher Force that existed in the Universe that you were sure and confident Jake would never hurt you physically.

But he was hurting you in another way, a very detrimental one: he was hurting your feelings. Hurting your feelings good.

"No, Jake Sully. I won't answer you until you stop being such a goddamn jerk." You said, a serious, stern expression in your heated with anger face as you stared at his eyes

He looked you dead in the eyes and breathed heavy though his nose, supporting his back against the wall, his body inclined back, his huge toned but a little fleshy arms crossed in front of his chest. He calmed down a little and was waiting for you to talk.

"Thank you!" You spit, rolling your eyes at him "I was, yes, talking to an Omatikaya boy. But that was all. He was really nice and we were just having a good time. Nothing happened. I even told him that I had someone. Didn't say who it was, though. I don't know if he was interested in me. I'm not that good at noticing these things."

"Hah, so he was flirting with you! I knew it!!" Jake was lost in his jealousy. You didn't recognize the man in front of you

"Jake!! Are we gonna do this all over again?!" You were getting way too mad at his attitude

Jake tilted his head to the side, furrowed his lips, eyes on yours, scorching your very soul.

"Why can't I be mad? He was messing with what's mine." He stated, fierce.

"Ahaha" You laughed sarcastically

"Unbelievable…" You thought

"So, you don't make our relationship official, you don't let your family or anyone in Pandora know, everybody thinks you just like to talk to me about sciencey stuff, Norm might be the only one that suspects of something, in my opinion , but he minds his own business and respects our friendship - with me and with you - way too much to go around gossiping to people about the fact you always come way too often to the lab and spends a lot of time alone in rooms with me, and you have the audacity of acting like a mad man when an Omatikaya guy, who has no damn clue you're dating me, seems interested in me?! Is that the way you're gonna act, Sully?! Really?!"

Jake still stared at you, angered.

"Yes." He said, in a low, calm tone. But you could feel his cold demeanor coming towards you. He was still angry and still though he was right.

You chuckled faintly, your face tainted with disbelief "Manchild." You said, looking into his eyes.

Jake sighed heavily, spent some seconds with his head down, seeming to be thinking about something and then, he came closer to you, his eyes softer this time, that anger flying away slowly.

"I'm sorry. You're right. I'm being childish. I'm way older than you are. I should be the mature one here."

You looked at him, eyes still distrustful, but you gave in and calmed your nerves down too.

Jake looked at you with puppy adorable eyes, the way he used to look at Neytiri when they were young. Even after so many years, he still had that cute look in his eyes when he was sorry, or pleading for something or when he just wanted to show his true feelings to someone he had romantic feelings for. He wasn't the romantic type, but he showed his love through actions, through acts of service, quality time, physical touch, and, through looking at the person he loved - in this case, "the person he liked", you thought - that way. His eyes said everything his mouth couldn't say.

"Please, forgive me, baby. I didn't mean to hurt you this much. I was foolish, I was letting my heart guide me. That's not good, sometimes." He sighed, upset with himself "it's just that... you mean so much to me. I don't wanna lose you to someone else. Someone younger, who doesn't have a whole lot of baggage like I do, someone who can make you happier than I can."

You breathed through your nose, your chest felt tight, filled with anxiety and tension

"You will never lose me, Jake. Never. Don't worry about it." You looked at his pleading amber eyes, forgiving him "My heart is yours. You're always there. Everywhere I look, you're there. I listen to love songs from Earth thinking about you. Why are you so insecure?"

"No reason... I just... You're so precious to me. I need you so much. So much."

You gazed into his eyes, started to tip toe, trying to reach his mouth. It was stupid, you knew the height difference wouldn't let that happen, but, you were following your instinct to physically show him how much you loved him. That you were his and never wished to belong to anybody else.

Jake noticed what you wanted to do and took you in his arms, sweeping you off your feet, his arms beneath your thighs and initiated the kiss himself. Jake held onto your thighs tightly and strongly. He kissed you like a starving man finally getting some food. His tongue wildly touching yours, licking it, sucking on it. His lips bruising yours, leaving your mouth reddened afterwards.

His big blue hands moved from your thighs to hold onto your butt, carefully to not let you fall from his arms, as you were up in the air and could get hurt if you fell.

"Nobody can touch you. Or kiss you. Or fuck you. Only I can. Do you understand, sweetheart?" Jake spoke, almost whispering, out of breath because of the heated kiss

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl. My good girl. Only mine." Jake praised you

𓆩♡𓆪

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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 6 months

Text

How to Plant Snapdragons (pt. 9)

Task Force 141 + König + Keegan x Female Criminal!Reader (except Captain Price, because he'll be like a father to the bunch, and König and Keegan won't appear until later on in the story)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You go to Las Almas with Soap and Ghost and meet Colonel Alejandro and Sergeant Rodolfo

You are currently reading Chapter 9! Here is Chapter 8 and the Masterlist!

CONTENT WARNING: Strong Violence NOTE: WAZZUP BITCHES, IM BACK I am very sorry for not updating for 4-5(?) months. I didn't mean to go on a hiatus without any announcements. Things had been quite busy for me lately and I focused on some things (FUCK COLLEGE BUT I PASSED ALL MY CLASSES ANYWAY), and also the reason why I suddenly "went dark" is because of the fucking MW3 Campaign. Yeah, shit destroyed me. WORD COUNT: 2.7k

You had been to Mexico once. You went to good places it held, but you also walked on the mud it hid in the dark. After all, there could never be a perfect country. Even if someone said that their glorious purpose was for the better good of their nation—most of the time, they were merely heroes in their own stories and villains in the others’. Well, Mexico had good food. You could give them that, at least. But this place, Las Almas, would it have good stuff as well?

You shook off your vest and Ghost’s jacket as the pilot alerted you of the time of the touchdown and slipped into your jacket, fitted to your frame. As much as you wanted to keep wearing the lieutenant’s clothes, you couldn’t risk getting harmed because of loose clothing and failing this stupid mission.

You turned to Ghost as you folded his jacket neatly. “Can I keep this?” you asked and smiled.

He stared at you for a good second, pools of honey you couldn’t read before he looked away. “Suit yourself.”

Your grin widened, and you stashed the jacket into your bag. You hummed as you put on your vest, tightening it to your liking. You patted your pockets, checking each of them, until you felt Ghost’s mask in one, fingers lingering on the soft fabric, and sighed. You put your hands down on your lap and leaned against the cold steel, waiting for the upcoming descent, which didn’t take long.

The plane opened up, and a busy facility greeted your sight. Vehicles drove in and out of the area, and soldiers went back and forth from one place to another. But even when they were bustling, you could feel their gazes land on you—suspicious and judging, whispering among themselves, voices drowned out by the loud exhausts of the transports.

It was something you wished you could get used to. At the same time, you didn’t want to, when eyes held more than they seemed.

You followed Soap and Ghost down the plane, walking towards a couple of men who stepped forward. One of them had his hands clasped behind him, while the other simply stood by his side. Both were, well, good-looking and buffed (which was normal for military men), but eh, not really your type.

They would make pretty models though.

Also, good human shields, if ever.

Johnny, being the everlasting sunshine he was, greeted them first, extending a hand to the man named Alejandro, and engaged in a conversation with him as though they had been long good friends. Then, the sergeants forced the poor lieutenant to join in, who sounded ready to strangle the scot.

Then, your eyes found the gaze of the man next to the Mexican captain on the monitor on your ankle. A frown spread on his face and worsened the moment he saw the smirk that crept up your lips, his eyes darting between you and the half of the 141.

The look of a man confused never failed to be an entertainment. And what was more the obvious expression that said, what the fuck is a criminal doing here? Or something in Spanish.

“And who is she?” Alejandro questioned, finally turning his eyes on you—or rather, down to your ankle, as if the monitor would be the one to answer him.

“She’s sent by General Shepherd,” Ghost immediately replied, batting an eye at you. “She may be a criminal, but she proved excellent in various ways that could be useful to us.”

Alejandro, albeit hesitantly, nodded and extended a hand to you. “Nice to meet you, miss.”

You took his hand, giving it a quick shake. “I’m at your service, sir. And worry not about me going against orders, I pretty much like my head attached to my neck.”

He put a forced smile on his face, one you’d seen way too many times on people. “We’ll see about that.” He motioned at the man beside him. “This is Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra, my second-in-command.”

The said man, Rodolfo, extended his hand first to Soap, who the fellow Sergeant enthusiastically shook. Then, he batted an eye at Ghost, seemingly hesitant to approach him, but still decided to. Ghost, however, merely stared at his hand, and Rodolfo backed away, clearing his throat.

Soap stepped forward. “Ah, the Lt’s not much of a talker.”

Rodolfo nodded. “I understand.” He turned your way and reached out his hand, which you lightly shook, quickly withdrawing right after. He moved back to Alejandro’s side, who nodded his head towards a direction.

“Follow me, we’ll talk along the way.” Alejandro turned and began to walk, passing by and nodding at soldiers who saluted at him. By the end of the way—or seemingly at both an entrance and exit, several jeeps were parked, and a few soldiers stood by the vehicles. With a wave of hand from Alejandro, the men slipped inside the vehicles, and Rodolfo was the first to get in the first jeep on the line.

“I’d like to sit beside the window—” you attempted to request, but Ghost was quick to shut you off.

“No,” he said as Soap rounded the car, stepping in by the other side.

“But—”

“No.”

“C’mon, lassie, don’t you want to sit between us?” Soap questioned, a smile played on his lips.

You slipped inside with a grumble, inching close to the sergeant, before elbowing him. He grunted, but you knew it wouldn’t do much damage to him with all his muscles. At the same time, doors shut as both Alejandro and Simon got inside.

“Tengo miedo de los fantasmas,” Rodolfo mumbled, slightly turning his head to face his colonel.

(I’m afraid of ghosts.)

Your eyes whipped forward, brows slightly raising at his words, which you perfectly understood. You glanced at Ghost, but he merely stared ahead. At the back of your mind, you wanted to snitch on the new guy just so some drama could happen between them, but at the same time, drama could lead to suspicion between these men.

This was why knowing some languages if you travel abroad was great. But it should be fine to keep quiet for now. What the sergeant said wasn’t suspicious, but if they did anything that could bring harm to Ghost and Soap, then . . .

On the other hand, Alejandro chuckled at the comment of his sergeant and looked back at the three of you. “You know Spanish?”

The Lieutenant remained silent, and you did the same, turning your head to the side to look out of the window, whilst Soap shook his head, and answered, “No.”

Alejandro drew a smirk on his face and turned his attention back ahead. “Oh, you will.”

Rodolfo started the car and drove out of the base.

“See,” you pointed at the window, begrudgingly looking at Simon, who stared indifferently at you. “This is why I want to be next to the window.”

The car passed by two-story buildings, seemingly houses or apartments, painted in pastel colors. People were walking and talking on the street, some vendors and their stands offering their goods, and some other vehicles were parked on the way. It wasn’t much, not even beautiful, but still you’d like to see everything you could see.

“Have you taken a liking to Las Almas?” Alejandro questioned, glancing back at you.

You put your hand down and turned your head on his way. “To be frank, it’s not a liking, sir, rather, it’s curiosity. I’m not from here or anything similar to this place, so I’d like to see how things work here.”

His head inclined a bit to the side, appearing to be thinking of his words. “You’ll be . . . disappointed.”

You smiled. “I’ll be the one to judge that.” Just as you finished your sentence, a truck with men riding on the back, guns in hand passed by. You couldn’t help but whistle at their ridiculous sight, and put your hand on top of Soap’s before he could grab his gun.

He frowned at you. “What are ya—”

“Calm down, sir,” you cut him off, pulling your hand away. “Seeing as no one on the street is reacting about it, pretty sure that’s normal here.”

“You’re right,” Alejandro spoke in a serious voice, once again looking back at you. “Guns are in the jurisdiction of the police.”

“Looks like Las Almas has a huge problem,” you commented and crossed your arms. “Much more than what I’ve heard.”

Alejandro shifted his eyes to you. “You seem to know something about Las Almas.”

With his words, Soap and Ghost also settled their eyes on you, as if they were ready to do everything to get answers out of your mouth. “I’ve been to Mexico, and during my stay, I heard of things about Las Almas. Not exactly the good ones as you probably expected, but I didn’t know things around here would be this bad.”

“When did you come to Mexico?”

“Over a couple of years ago, sir.”

“I see.” He turned back ahead. “Well, things weren’t that bad back then.”

“I suppose those who tried to uphold the laws and resist corruption met their end as the time passed?”

“You’re right.”

You hummed. “Well, without powerful backing to protect them, I doubt they’ll last much in a society like this.”

“And ya also seemed to know things about politics and stuff,” Soap claimed, slightly shifting on his seat.

You met his blue eyes with a grin. “I had met quite a few politicians in my life. Assassinated an Austrian before, and the one who hired me snitched on me. That’s why I ended up on Shepherd’s shackles.”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How much of that is true?”

You laughed loudly, although you already knew what would be his reaction. “Take a guess,” you told him challengingly.

“The last sentence,” Ghost joined in, his voice monotone.

You snorted. “Except that.” Then, you gasped, throwing yourself to the window at Soap’s side, making him curse out something you couldn’t fucking understand in whatever Scottish was that. “Look, look, Lt!” You motioned your hand on Ghost to look at the ridiculous sight of someone in a skull balaclava giving balloons to kids.

“What the hell?” Soap’s bright eyes also followed the scene.

You whipped around and smiled at Ghost, who simply stared at you. “If you ever want to quit the military, you can retire with me and live together.”

“How about living in Las Almas since Ghost might fit well in here?” Rodolfo suggested in a soft voice. Alejandro hit him on the side, whispering something, and from the corner of your eyes, you saw Ghost slowly turning to look at him through the rear mirror.

You tilted your head. “But Las Almas has a serious problem when it comes to crimes, so I don’t think it is very much suitable to live in unless you want to be a crime lord or still in the military. And I’m the type of person who likes traveling around. If I were to settle for sometime somewhere else, it would be where I would have already spent some time on, like London, Berlin, or California and—”

“It’s just a joke, please. Don’t take it too seriously,” Rodolfo mumbled, sounding like he wanted to bury himself on the ground at the moment and never appear again.

On the way to the destination, Alejandro had talked more about the way of Las Almas, and finally, what you and the 141 came here for, El Sin Nombre, the leader of the Mexican Cartel who was protecting Hassan. Quite a reputation that person had as Alejandro said they had eyes and ears everywhere.

Having eyes and ears everywhere was also something the one who raised you did. Even if your father was in prison at the moment, you knew he was still pulling strings. A mastermind out of everyone’s league, until he decided to invest in you. Guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, now that you were technically imprisoned as well.

You pulled out your balaclava and huffed, putting it on swiftly. You jumped out of the jeep right after Simon and you heard Alejandro spit out his commands in a low, serious voice. You rounded up with the soldiers before a gate and under the Colonel’s command, the group barged in. You frowned as you had seen no man in sight, seemingly the civilians had run away—or were mostly likely driven out by the Cartel.

Alejandro waved his hand to follow him up another gate, which this time, Ghost opened, and gunshots echoed in the air.

“Showtime,” you said under your breath, aiming your assault rifle and blasting a hole through a man’s head, vibrant red painting the dull walls around. You rounded a corner, cautiously looking out for an enemy. You spotted a couple of them, but before you could take them down, they had already fallen on the ground. Your head whipped at Soap and Ghost’s direction. “Showoffs,” you grumbled.

“Said the one who wanted to take two men down at the same time,” Soap remarked, giving you a look, and you heard Ghost huff.

You clicked your tongue and swiftly entered a house, but quickly moved back out as you saw not a soul in sight. Your frown worsened at the unusual lack of men to hold the group back. In these cases, either it would be a trap or they had escaped already.

You glanced over your shoulders. 141, some of Alejandro’s men and the Colonel himself were on sight. The walls obscured your view of the place, there were so many corners where men could be hiding themselves or something else, and such things as Cartels wouldn’t hesitate to destroy a run-down hide-out like this for their good.

Soap shot a man from the roof and Alejandro positioned himself in front of a door, motioning at us. “Secure the house, and we go for Hassan.”

Several voices echoed from inside the place, cursing and hushing one another.

“Take the door,” Alejandro commanded. Soap stepped forward, but you grabbed him, making him look at you.

Before he could utter a word, you kicked the door open, slid on the floor towards a corner, and struck a man awaiting in the hallway. You got up immediately, raised a hand so they wouldn’t follow you, and picked up a baby’s bottle on the ground, throwing it to a room through a slightly opened door. Shots were fired blindly right after and you countered it with a couple of bullets, and it stopped. You pushed the blasted door open and found a man lying on the floor, and the baby’s bottle rolling towards your foot.

“Room clear,” you announced, staring down at the bottle for a second, before moving to the next room. They followed you in and you braced yourself for another onslaught, but this time, Soap was the one who barged in, quickly shooting down the men inside without batting an eye.

“Room clear,” he said and put his hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

You looked up at him and raised a brow that he wouldn’t see.

Ghost sauntered in the room. “No sign of Hassan.”

Alejandro sighed. “They already moved him.”

You turned your attention to him. “They move fast, hm?”

He looked at you, letting Ghost and Soap rummage the desk across the room instead. “They do. Much more than I expected.”

“So they already know that we’re coming here,” you remarked.

“Highly possible. The Cartel has eyes everywhere.”

You narrowed your eyes and echoed, “Everywhere?”

He nodded to affirm it. “Everywhere.”

“You mean even among your men?”

He paused, staring at you for a good second. “No, I trust my men.”

“A weed is a weed, sir, no matter how good it looks in your garden,” you said in a monotonous voice, picking up a pencil from the ground. “Sooner or later, they’ll bring harm to your plants. And even the plants you put in your garden can bring harm to you if you don’t know what they are.”

Ghost and Soap shot an eye on you, before exchanging looks with each other.

He eyed you cautiously and his serious voice lowered. “What are you implying?”

You remained silent and so did he, until Rodolfo’s voice echoed in your headsets. “The army is rolling in!”

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ineedhaikyu · 1 month

Text

Chapter 4

Summary: It was a bittersweet moment when Inarizaki lost to both Inarizaki's manager and Karasuno’s ace. What will happen next? Do the feelings stop there?

Word Count: 11.7K

Warnings: A lot of fluff. The slow burn is intense. This chapter is long because I wanted to add meaningful conversations. Spoilers for Season 4/Chapter 291! Dialogue from both sources. I don’t own anything. Haikyu belongs to Furudate Haruichi! Also, I added a scene that I found adorable. The Tiktok creator (astrq.ella) translates the fanmade manga into English and it's so cute!! Go check it out!

A/N: Obviously, the dialogue of the twins, Aran, Kita, etc are from the anime and manga. I tried my best to keep the flow of speech going throughout this chapter. Lol idk if I can keep up but I’ll do my best! When am I going to edit that dialogue in the previous chapter? Well, your guess is as good as mine! Also, I apologize for the sudden hiatus, my life is crazy but I hope you enjoy this new chapter.

The match ended with a score of 30-32. With each team winning a set, the third and final set was their last chance to win, to advance, to stay alive in Nationals. The hunger to win was there. The sheer determination to win was there. The will, the passion, the… Well, everything. Each player on the Inarizaki had it all. They played with everything they had.

Atsumu proved to everyone, whether they were familiar with volleyball or not, how his setter skills were top tier and worthy to be labeled as the best high school setter. With his opponent being a setter that attended the same All-Japan Training Camp, he was pushed to another level to become a star setter.

Osamu covered for any tiny mistake his brother made during the match. The unspoken intuition between him and his brother every time he scored a point through their version of Karasuno’s quick attack. Never before had he felt so hungry during a match.

Aran played his role as the ace more than ever. With each difficult pass that was made, he made sure to call out for the ball and with his strength he scored a point for his team. The title of ace suited him as he proved it with each service ace and spikes that broke through Karasuno’s blocks. Gin followed his senpai’s footsteps closely as he scored points through difficult blocks and receiving difficult passes.

Omimi kept up his blocking skills all throughout the match, turning Karasuno’s possible points into their points through his blocks. The same can be said with Suna. The middle blocker, despite his deadpan expression, didn’t slack off as per usual. He lived up to his title as one of the best middle blockers in Nationals as he kept his sharp game sense and surprised his opponents with his wide-range spike.

Akagi did his best as lead libero. He saved the team on multiple occasions through his receives. His eyes focused on the ball more than anything as he commanded his body to follow after it. With each received he made, it brought a sense of security to his teammates to continue playing. He was the cornerstone for his team’s defense and wasn’t about to slack off, not even for a second.

Kita kept his plays consistent all the while keeping the rambunctious second-years in check. But ever so often, the match brought out a side of him that hasn’t been felt for a long time. Karasuno wasn’t like any other team. Every player on that team pushed his teammates to their limits so many times that it made him crack a smile or two throughout the game. Karasuno were worthy opponents.

Even the first years challenged themselves to play. They didn’t hold anything back.

And yet…

“It’s a madhouse in here!” The announcer’s loud voice filled the arena of the crowd’s uproar. “The entire Tokyo gymnasium is shaking with the roar of the crowd!”

The Inarizaki manager was the first to snap out of it. She didn’t realize how loud it was before until now. The last sound she heard was the sound of the ball hitting their side of the orange court. Everything after that felt muffled in a sense as she stood there motionless.

(Y/N) looked at her team. With the exception of their chests moving, no one made an effort to walk off the court. Whether they were too tired to move or they were in disbelief at their loss, (Y/N) knew that her friends were taking this loss harder than usual.

They were so close…

“We lost.” It helped saying those two words out loud. It didn’t lessen the sting obviously, but it confirmed her reality.

Even more so when she saw how unbelievably happy Karasuno looked. Her eyes automatically looked for Asahi. When her eyes landed on his jersey number, her wounded heart swelled up with admiration. Under the bright gym lights, Asahi looked unbelievably happy as his arms wrapped around his teammates. He, along with his friends, were hugging the two first-years that made the incredible block against the twins’ attack.

The scene made her smile bittersweetly. While she was sad that her team was no longer able to advance, losing the match to Karasuno didn’t feel too awful. The match was almost like a battle of wills. Everyone was fighting for a point. No one gave up, not even when the odds were against them.

There was no way around it, Karasuno won fair and square and while this didn’t mean the end of the world for her… Today marks the end of her Spring Tournament journey… Wow. Third year brings out a different perspective more than anything.

(Y/N) reminded herself to breathe. She looked for Kita. Unsurprisingly, the captain’s observant gaze was on her already. He always had a knack in knowing what she was feeling. It has been like that since their first year. The two smiled at each as they were thinking the same thing.

They couldn’t be any prouder of their entire team.

“It’s time to line up.” Coach Kurosu instructed with Coach Ōmi following behind.

She nodded and wordlessly grabbed the white picket sign that showed her school’s name. The manager waited for her captain to step next to her. Once he did, she gave the sign in his hands. Their eyes met and (Y/N) knew he was going to be okay.

Everyone lined up on either side of the net; their Karasuno counterpart right in front of them. (Y/N) looked ahead and she smiled when she was met with Kiyoko’s teary-eyed expression. She hoped those tears were of happiness and not of pity for her and her team. In unison, everyone bowed down and thanked each other for the game.

After standing back up, the players stepped forward to shake hands. (Y/N), along with the coaches, did the same.

“That was a great game.” (Y/N) told her when they shook hands. “Anyone who says Karasuno’s a fallen powerhouse is kidding themselves.”

Kiyoko wiped away the tears that threatened to fall at her new friend’s words. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to us.”

(Y/N) let out a good-natured chuckle. “You have a great team, Kiyoko. Take care of them because the competition is going to be even fiercer.”

“I will… And (Y/N)?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry-

“Don’t be.” The Inarizaki manager cuts her off. “Don’t apologize. You never know what’s going to happen. All we can do is our best and keep moving forward. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

The girls smiled at each other. To Kiyoko’s surprise, (Y/N) gave her a tight hug. It took her a second but Kiyoko managed to hug back. The loud cheers of the arena along with the announcer’s voice almost made it impossible to hear (Y/N)’s next words but she still heard them all the same: “Keep winning.”

Kiyoko pulled away first as she gave her friend a determined nod. “We will.”

(Y/N) smiled at her one last time before following her teammates. She stood next to Kita in front of the Inarizaki cheer section. She scanned the crowd to see her fellow classmates and friends. They had tears streaming down their faces but it didn’t stop them from clapping or shouting words of encouragement.

In the corner of her eye, she saw how frustrated Atsumu looked. Anyone who had eyes can tell by the expression he wore.

With furrowed brows and a small pout to accompany it, Atsumu muttered under his breath, “C’mon. Boo us. Losers don’t need no consolation applause.”

To his surprise, one of the older fans called him out. “Shut yer mouth, Atsumu, ya little dimwit!”

(Y/N) smirked when her underclassman was taken aback; he’s probably thinking how on earth did the man see right through him.

“It’s scrawled all over yer face, ya idjit!” The fan yelled at him, confirming (Y/N)’s theory from before. She didn’t miss the way Osamu smirked at his brother, most likely thinking he was a idiotic moron.

“A GOOD GAME’S A GOOD GAME, AND WE’RE GONNA TELL YOU IT WAS A GOOD GAME! YOU GOT THAT?!”

While the loss did sting, the fan’s words gave her a sense of pride. Everyone rallied behind the fan’s statement. The claps became louder. They shouted each member’s names, including her own, telling them it was a great game. They even brought out the hand-made signs that had their names on it and carried them proudly over their heads. (Y/N)’s eyes swept over the crowd until she was met with Kita’s grandmother’s gaze.

She met the older woman before on multiple occasions. Kita Yumie was the ideal grandmother as she wore a gentle smile that matched her kind eyes. The fact that she showed up to their game only proved how much she cared for her grandson and his team. Not to mention she wore a hand-made sweater that said ‘Good Luck Shinsuke’.

It didn’t help when the elder woman mouthed, “I’m proud of you all.”

(Y/N) could feel her tears well up around her eyes. She blinked rapidly to gain control but there was always that one tear that ended up escaping down her cheek. Her hand quickly wiped it away before her team saw. But, as always, the Inarizaki captain was watching.

He patted her back and gave her the same gentle smile that he shared with his grandmother. The smiles were almost identical.

Wordlessly, everyone bowed to the Inarizaki cheering section and shouted, “THANK YOU VERY MUCH!”

As Coach Kurosu and Kita delivered their post-game interviews, (Y/N) busied herself with packing everything up. Once she deemed everything was accounted for, she zipped up her bag and took one last look at the orange court. It was bittersweet to say the least.

“Can’t forget this.” Aran came up to her, her maroon Inarizaki jacket in his hand. “Y’alright?”

(Y/N) smiled at her friend and nodded as she put on her jacket. “I should be asking you that, Aran.”

The ace shrugged. “It hasn’t sunk in yet, y’know?”

She hummed in agreement. “I keep expecting to wake up but I pinched myself enough times to know this is real.”

The two third-years walked towards the crowd of journalists where their friend/captain continued to answer questions. As they waited on the sidelines, Aran couldn’t help but steal glances at his manager. Which of course didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“Something wrong, Aran?”

He took a moment to find the right words before he spoke, “That samurai guy… He made some great plays.”

“He did, didn’t he?” (Y/N) recalled Asahi’s top moments of the match. A smile graced her lips when she remembered the moment Asahi feinted a spike that surprised both Aran and Akagi. She can tell by the look of his face that he didn’t mean to do that, all the while Inarizaki’s ace and libero glared at him. “Even our own fans cheered him on at one point.”

“I know right? But I couldn’t blame them for cheerin’.” Aran sighed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He mentally winced as he recalled the time Karasuno’s #3 received his spike with his shoulder. He didn’t want to brag but he knew for a fact that his spikes were strong. No doubt Azumane is going to have a bruise that will last a few days. “He’s definitely a strong ace.”

“You guys shook hands, right? Did you tell him something?” (Y/N) asked her friend, curiosity getting the best of her.

Aran nodded. “Yeah, I told him something.”

(Y/N) waited for him to continue but when he didn’t say anything else she stepped in front of him. “Well? What did you tell him? You didn’t say anything mean, did you? He’s sensitive and-”

Her mini interrogation was cut off when Aran laughed and said, “Relax, (Y/N). I didn’t say anything mean.”

“Then what did you tell him?” She asked again, getting slightly annoyed by Aran’s secrecy.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a guy thing.”

Oh, you suck.” (Y/N) pouted as she punched his arm repeatedly. “And here I thought you were the one guy that I can trust unconditionally. Guess Kita is the only one.”

“Aww. Don’t be like that.” Aran swung his arm over her shoulder and brought her in for a side hug. “After all we’ve been through these last three years, you’re just gonna toss me away like that?”

(Y/N) let out a small yelp when she felt Aran’s hand ruffle her hair. “Hey! My hair! It took me all morning to make it look good.”

“Oh?” Aran gave her a teasing smile that could rival the twins’. “You never do your hair for matches. You tryin’ to impress samurai guy?”

“S-Shut up! What’s wrong with me trying to look good?” (Y/N) defended, hoping Aran didn’t see through her tough act. “Are you really not going to tell me what you told him?”

Aran laughed and shook his head. “Nope!”

“Fine. I’m sure Kita would tell me.” She said before pulling away from the ace’s embrace. She wrinkled her nose before covering it. “You stink.”

(Y/N) opened her bag and gave him a clean towel. Aran huffed but didn’t argue because he knew he didn’t exactly smell like roses. He wiped away the sweat around his face and neck when he noticed his captain coming towards them.

“Looks like Kita’s done.”

“You guys were waiting for me?” Kita asked his friends. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s tradition.” Aran pointed out. “We always walk together off the court.”

“It’s been like this since our first-year, Kita. Remember? Why would we change it now?” She added.

Kita hummed as his heart stirred at his friends’ words. “I guess not but let’s go. The next match is going to start soon and we shouldn't get in the way.”

He walked forward, missing the way his friends shared a knowing look. Together, the Inarizaki captain, ace, and manager made their way to the rest of the team that were patiently waiting for them.

Along the way, (Y/N) took the chance to ask the same question she asked Aran and hoped he would give her the answer she was hoping for. To her dismay, Kita gave her a soft smile and said, “Aran only told your friend the obvious.”

(Y/N) sighed. “You wound me, Shinsuke. I thought you were my friend. My best friend who would tell me everything. My good friend who should have my back after everything we went through. My-”

“Give it up, (Y/N).” Aran laughed at her attempt to guilt trip Kita. “I told ya it’s a guy thing.”

“That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.” (Y/N) complained as both captain and ace smirked at her.

The third-year trio met up with their team and together they departed to the sub-arena. As they walked down the stairs, (Y/N) could practically feel her underclassmen heavy stares on her back. It was only a matter of time before someone said something.

It’s almost comical how she was able to call stuff out before they even happened, especially when the twins asked for Kita. Judging by the guilty expressions on their faces, it wasn’t hard to figure out what they were going to say.

In unison, the twins began their apology. “Um… We’re sorry-”

But, as usual, Kita was one step ahead of them as he interrupted their speech. “What? Gonna apologize to me so you can feel a bit better about yourselves?”

Standing next to the captain, (Y/N) shivered under her jacket at Kita’s seemingly ice cold words and she wasn’t the only one who felt the effects. The Miya twins straightened up their posture and with similar embarrassed expressions they yelled, “Wha?! N-No! Course not!”

(Y/N) grinned at the second-years’ panicked response. She’s going to miss those two when she graduates in a couple of months.

Kita smirked to himself and waved his hand in dismissal. “I know, I know. Sorry.” His expression changed into a pensive one. “But… I think you should save the apologies for when you’ve done something wrong.”

Atsumu and Osamu’s eyes seemed to glimmer under the light, taking their captain’s words to heart.

Kita continued. “I don’t think you made a mistake by choosin’ to do that quick set right then. I thought you were gonna score too… Though I hafta say I hate the idea of tryin’ stuff in real games that we ain’t done in practice first.”

The twins grimaced as their eyes looked at the ground with great interest. They looked so guilt-ridden because they knew Kita had a point.

“Still,” (Y/N) spoke up, causing everyone to perk up. “The fact you guys were able to copy that quick attack on your first try was amazing. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Aran nodded. “And that last rally there… We probably just picked the wrong guys to try it against.”

“I agree.” Kita said as he recalled the match’s final moments. “When you two get all fired up and gung-ho-like… You usually leave everybody else back behind you in the dust.” He paused, recalling Karasuno’s so-called ‘freak’ duo before continuing. “But this once, the other guys were just as fired up and gung-ho-like as you two… It was amazin’ right?”

The captain couldn’t help the smile that grew on his lips and (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile as well. It was a rare sight to see her friend smile but it never failed to warm her heart. Kita began his descent down the stairs but not before saying, “It ain’t every day you get to play a game like that against a team like that. We got real lucky… Good for you.”

(Y/N) chuckled at how her underclassmen looked so shocked after hearing Kita’s touching words. They must have thought he’d be his stoic self. They don’t realize that he’s happy that his teammates found worthy opponents in Karasuno.

“Wait…” Atsumu said. “Kita-san was smiling just now, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Osamu confirmed, his eyes following his upperclassman.

Riseki stepped beside Atsumu and added, “I caught him smiling bunches during the game.”

“Bunches?!/Yer kiddin’.” The twins exclaimed at the same time, not believing the first-year’s statement.

They looked at their manager, mentally asking her if it was true. Their jaws dropped when she nodded and said, “He’s not a robot, you guys. Kita can smile. Don’t act so surprised when he shows his feelings.”

Kita stopped in his tracks when he heard his manager’s words. He stood there in silence, contemplating his next words that could leave a lasting impression on his team.

After a moment, he admitted his feelings, “Still, for some reason I’m awfully frustrated. Now, I did everything I could proper and I did it right. I can say I don’t have any regrets and mean it as the honest truth. Results like winning and losing, they’re still just side effects that happen when I’m doin what I oughta be doin’. But… It’s funny.”

The captain of the Inarizaki volleyball team turned to look at his teammates. His eyes met with each one along with his rare gentle smile that surprised the first and second-years.

“‘Well? Isn’t my team amazing?’ I wanted to say that even more.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something but she was left speechless after listening to Kita’s speech. She tried so hard to contain her tears but it was no use. Her strong facade crumbled with each tear streaming down her face. Kita’s words etched into her heart and she hoped her juniors will continue to work hard in the future. At the thought of her juniors, (Y/N) glanced up at them only to see they were tearing up as well. Suna was the only one who remained tear-free but (Y/N) knew him well enough to know he’s feeling the same way as everyone else.

As she tried to compose herself, Osamu tearfully spoke up, “Please keep saying it, senpai.”

Atsumu followed up and declared, “We’ll be the kind of teammates you can brag about to your great-grandkids.”

Kita looked up to the ceiling with a hopeful look on his face. His smile grew even more after hearing the twins’ promise.

“I look forward to it.”

And with that, the third-year captain turned around and continued to walk down the stairs. The rest of the Inarizaki team were left spellbound, too stunned to move an inch.

“Come on. Let’s hurry up and get changed.” Kita advised them. He looked at his friends and his eyes softened when he saw the state (Y/N) and Aran was in. “You guys okay?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her lips. Automatically, her arms wrapped around him and hugged her friend tightly. It took a few seconds but she soon felt him hug back. Then she felt another pair of arms around them and it didn’t end there. In less than ten seconds, her and Kita were in the center of a massive group hug.

Inarizaki’s motto stated that they didn’t need the memories, but with this heartfelt moment she was experiencing… (Y/N) hoped her teammates would make an exception because she will definitely hold this memory close to her heart.

“You guys are the best. I wouldn’t manage any other team. Thank you for the last three years!”

It went without saying there wasn’t a single dry eye amongst the group.

“THANK YOU SENPAI!”

~Meanwhile in the baggage storage area~

Asahi never felt so exhausted before in his entire life. This match was, without a doubt, on his list of top three most difficult matches. The adrenaline from before seemed to evaporate the moment he stepped away from the court. He was sure he looked like the dictionary’s definition of tired. Despite the exhaustion and the victory under his belt, he felt conflicted.

He hasn’t seen (Y/N) since the final line up and he wondered if she was okay. Her team came close to winning. The last rally was really a battle of wills between his team and hers. He could only imagine the sting of hurtful defeat the moment the ball fell onto their court. And with (Y/N) being a third-year, it was her last chance to be with her team in Nationals.

Now her chance is gone… Asahi couldn’t help but feel a bit responsible for that.

Which is why his eyes keep glancing at the entrance every five minutes, hoping to see her and talk for a minute. Even after he cleaned up and dressed back into his normal clothes, there was still no sign of the girl that made him nervous yet confident all at the same time.

It didn’t help how tired he felt. He yawned for what seemed like the fourth time today, but his tired eyes kept focus on the entrance.

“Yo Asahi! You look like the walking dead.” Suga jested, sitting down next to him. “Everything okay?”

“Just tired. My arms feel like they’re going to fall off.”

Suga laughed and repeatedly slapped his aching back. “But you were great out there! You looked so dependable.”

Asahi let out a nervous chuckle. “Thanks. I didn’t want to let the team down.”

“Oh yeah? And here I thought you were just showing off for a certain Inarizaki manager. I caught (Y/N) smiling when you made that awesome service ace.”

“You did?” He hoped Suga wasn’t pulling his leg. The thought of (Y/N) smiling because of him felt too good to be true.

Asahi wished he could have seen that smile but with how intense each set was he could only afford the briefest of glances in her direction. Thankfully, there was a moment they shared together that felt like an eternity.

It was during a time out and he was intensely listening to Coach Ukai’s instructions. Kiyoko just handed him his water bottle and a clean white towel to which he gratefully took. He wiped away the beads of sweat that formed on his neck and face before taking a drink. As he took in the cold refreshing drink, his eyes drifted to the other side of the net where the Inarizaki players were huddled together. And there was (Y/N), doing the same thing as Kiyoko as she handed her teammates their water. She just gave her setter his water when she looked up and met his gaze.

His heart began to beat wildly against his chest and it had nothing to do with the high caliber game that was going on. Then she gave him that smile, the same smile that made him all warm and fuzzy on the inside, along with a small wave. His face began to burn bright red and for a few seconds he forgot how to breathe. Unfortunately, during those few seconds he was drinking his water which led to him having a small choking episode. Luckily, it wasn’t too bad so when he looked up and saw (Y/N)’s worried expression, wordlessly asking him if he was okay. Touched that she was worried for him, Asahi gave her a small nod and hoped it was enough to reassure her.

The interaction lasted about maybe 45 seconds before the referee signaled for the game to continue but those 45 seconds were committed into memory, something he will cherish for a long time. He wondered if (Y/N) thought the same…

“Are you remembering how you choked on your water when you looked at (Y/N)?” Suga laughed. “I thought you were going to pass out! Then we would’ve been in real big trouble!”

“I-It wasn’t that bad.” Aashi protested though he could feel his cheeks beginning to warm up. Trying to hide his blush, he grabbed a towel and wiped away the nonexistent sweat from his face. “She just surprised me, is all…”

Suga grinned at him. “How is it that you two are so adorably cute yet you guys aren’t even together?”

“Sorry?” The ace apologized with a confused look on his face because honestly he didn’t know what he was apologizing for.

“Never mind. By the way, did Inarizaki’s ace say something to you when we shook hands?”

Asahi recalled that moment with Ojiro Aran. “Yeah, he did. He didn’t say anything bad. Just wished us luck in the next round.”

It was true…ish. His Inarizaki counterpart did wish him luck as well as some advice, something he wasn’t quite ready to share with his friends just yet.

“Huh, well that’s nice of him. He looks like a cool guy. The kind you want to hang out with, you know?” Suga remarked.

Asahi nodded. His eyes took a quick glance at the entrance, hoping to see the familiar maroon-colored Inarizaki jackets. He tried not to look disappointed when he didn’t see anyone on the team.

“I just can’t believe that Aran guy!” Suga exclaimed. “He was on a roll so many times. I can’t believe he jumped for the ball not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES!”

“Uh-huh.”

Suga furrowed his brow at his friend’s lack of active response. He was just about to ask him what’s wrong when he took one look at his face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was on his mind.

“Lighten up, Asahi, I’m sure your future girlfriend will walk through those doors any minute now.”

Another wave of heat washed over him as he tried to stutter out a reply. “I-It’s been a while. I wanted to talk with her before we go back to the inn.”

Initially, Suga was going to poke fun at the fact Asahi didn’t deny the ‘future girlfriend’ part but he decided against it.

“I’m sure she’s with her team right now, Asahi. They lost their place in the Spring Tournament so they must be torn up. After all, they were the favorites to win this whole thing.”

“Yeah, I know. That's why I want to talk with her to see if she’s okay. I mean I know she’s a third-year so this is her last year, so I can’t help but feel bad.”

“I thought you guys agreed on being cool whatever the outcome was?” Suga asked.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad for her.” Asahi countered. “I mean, I’m happy we won but… I don’t know… I wished it was different.”

Suga sighed but he understood where his sensitive friend was coming from. “I get it, Asahi, but you also need to stand proud for what you accomplished, it’s almost like a slap in the face to her and her team if you don’t. I’m sure if (Y/N)-san was here, she’ll agree with me.”

Asahi slightly grimaced but he couldn’t find any fault in Suga’s advice. After all, he did make an agreement with (Y/N) before the match started that they would stay on good terms whatever the results may be. Still, the thought of her being sad, especially when he was the cause of it, made his heart tighten in anxiety.

The ace was brought out of his thoughts when he felt Suga’s hand on his shoulder, “Just breathe. Everything will work out in the end. So quit giving yourself a panic attack.”

“Right.”

Following his friend’s advice, Asahi took a deep breath to calm his nerves and to get rid of the worst case scenarios in his head. It was difficult to say the least with each passing minute and there was still no sign of (Y/N) or her team. During the time he waited, he made the choice to sit on the bench closest to the entrance.

Asahi was very much aware of the stares from the other players but he didn’t take it to heart. Instead, he kept his cool composure while his hands were balled up inside his black jacket. That’s when he felt his phone and an idea formed at once. He quickly pulled out his phone, clicked (Y/N)’s contact, but then stared at the blinking cursor.

‘What should I text her? Something short and sweet? No, it should be something meaningful. But if I do that then it will be a super long text and it might freak her out… Gah! Why is it so hard making a good text?’

“Listen up everybody!” Coach Ukai announced loudly. “We leave in a few minutes. Get your stuff and head outside.”

Focused on the task at hand, his mind wracked for the right words that would check off the metaphorical checklist of the perfect text. After a few rough drafts and deleting a few words here and there, Asahi was more or less sure, 85% sure, he wrote a good enough text. All he had to do was press the send button.

His thumb hovered over the button for a moment and at the same time his heart was beating like crazy. It’s unbelievable how nervous (Y/N) made him even when she’s not physically there next to him. He wished he could at least see her.

“Chop! Chop! Man-bun! Our ride is here!”

Asahi shuddered under Coach Ukai’s nickname designed specifically for him. Without thinking, he hurried to pocket his phone, grabbed his bag, and joined his team. He looked over his shoulder one last time before following his team to the bus. Once he sat down, he took out his phone and opened up his messages when his heart jumped to his throat.

Message sent.

His message to (Y/N) has been delivered.

He must have accidently sent it when he was getting his stuff together when Coach Ukai called him out. Maybe it was for the best. He wasn’t mentally ready to send the text but perhaps it was for the best. A little push from the gods to give him a little boost of confidence.

Now all he could do was wait for her reply. The anticipation of her response was suspenseful to say the least. Either way, at least he could breathe a bit more easily now that his text message was sent. He just wished he had another chance to talk with her.

(Y/N) stood right next to Suna as they all stood in line underneath their Inarizaki banner. Her attention focused on Riseki who was pointing the camera, ready to take the commemorative photo Kita had asked for. She put on her best smile and placed her hand on her hip, ready for the picture to be taken.

She felt a subtle shift in her hair and automatically her other hand went to pinch Suna’s arm as she knew how childish the middle blocker was for making bunny ears from behind.

“Really, Suna?” She quietly chided, making sure to keep her smile on for the camera. “Bunny ears? What are you? Nine?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, senpai.”

“Watch yourself, Suna. I know your phone’s passcode. Don’t tempt me.”

Suna pouted slightly before removing his hand away. He’ll just have to time it the moment the picture is taken. Easy enough.

“Ready? Say cheese!” Riseki called out.

Ding! (Y/N)’s phone alerted her that she received a text message.

Bi-Bip! Kashik! The camera took the picture without a hitch.

Multiple events happened at once the moment Riseki took the picture. What was supposed to be a normal commemorative picture that enshrined Inarizaki’s great volleyball players turned out nothing of the usual. Everyone gathered around the first-year to look at the picture, hoping it turned out alright. It didn’t take long for opinions and excuses to start flying all around.

“What the heck, Samu!” Atsumu exclaimed to his brother. “Look at the camera, wouldja!”

Osamu shrugged his shoulders and offered his excuse, “I thought I caught a whiff of curry comin’ from outside.”

“Curry? You’re imagining things!” Ginjima laughed but he wouldn’t be surprised if the ever-so-hungry Miya was right.

Suna joined in on the banter as he said, “You’re hallucinating smells now? Scary.”

“Like you’ve got room to talk, Suna!” Aran called out the middle blocker. “You weren’t lookin’ at the camera, neither! Or you, Akagi!”

The libero offered the ace a smile. “I was thinkin’ maybe we oughta go call coach.”

Ōmimi sighed while closing his eyes at his team’s antics. He looked at Riseki, who stared wordlessly at the camera’s screen with a sweatdrop rolling down his face. “Time it better next time.”

Suna took one more look at the picture and his lips formed a smile when he saw his bunny ears hand gesture behind (Y/N)’s head. Even with the silly hand gesture unbeknownst to (Y/N), the manager looked effortlessly beautiful with her smile. He was sure if the president of the yearbook club were to see this picture, he wouldn’t hesitate to put it front and center of the dedicated pages because of their lovely manager that could charm any guy with a smile.

Speaking of their manager, Suna never heard her opinions about the picture. He looked up and his eyes searched for her. It didn’t take long to find her. She was in the same spot as she was in the photo though this time with her phone in hand. Come to think of it, he remembered her phone notifying her that she received a message.

Who could be texting her? He had a pretty good guess.

“Yo.” He called out to (Y/N) before peering over her shoulder. His eyes strained to read the screen before she quickly pressed her phone to the chest. “Is the samurai guy texting you already?”

She turned around and gave him a soft glare. “Quit sneaking up behind me, Suna.”

Suna ignored his manager’s words as he swung his arm over her shoulders. “Don’t dodge the question. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“... Maybe.” (Y/N) smiled up at her friend. “How did the picture come out? Are we taking another one?”

“Nah. I think Kita-senpai liked it. Said it looked just like us or something like that. You looked great compared to the rest of us.”

(Y/N) playfully rolled her eyes, “I would hope so. You guys need a shower. Like badly.”

“I take it back. You looked horrible.” Suna huffed in what was supposed to be annoyance but the third-year manager knew better as she saw the playful glint in his eyes. “Now I don’t feel bad for doing bunny ears behind your back.”

“You’re such a rascal. Just wait, I’ll get even with you.” (Y/N) informed him with a mischievous glint in her (E/C) eyes.

“I like to see you try.” Suna remarked as he removed his arm away from her.

Ever the observer, he looked for any signs of sadness that (Y/N) may be hiding. Today’s loss was a harsh reality for the entire team’s expectations to make it far into this competition. He’ll never admit it to anyone but he did try his hardest to help his team win. He wanted to keep playing more matches with the third-years…

“You okay?” He asked her after sharing a moment of silence. “You can tell me the truth. I won’t tell anyone.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle, leaning her head back to look at the gym lights. She replayed all the best moments from the match with a fond smile across her lips. There were no regrets at all as she answered, “Honestly and strangely, I feel fine. I know you guys played your best against them so that’s all I could ask for. If anything, I’m grateful for Karasuno because I know for a fact this loss will only push everyone, including you, to become better. ”

Suna frowned at the idea of the extra drills and long practices that will no doubt be inevitable. But before the tiring thought could take over his entire mind, the sudden urge to win against Karasuno grew tenfold. By this time next year, Inarizaki will come out victorious.

“I haven’t lost you, have I, Suna?” (Y/N) asked in a teasing tone. “How on earth are you going to manage your third-year?”

“Don’t ask.” Suna groaned. “You’ve been with us since day one. It’s going to be weird without you and the rest of the third-years around. We’ll miss you.”

(Y/N) bit her lip in order to contain the laugh that threatened to slip out. “I’m not dying, Suna. I can’t stay in high school forever.”

“Not forever. Just stay another year with us.” Suna clarified.

“Tempting offer but this girl would like to step out into the real world. Besides, don’t pretend you aren’t going to send me daily texts. I’m counting on your videos to cheer me up.” (Y/N) smiled one more time at Suna before patting his back. “Now, come on. Let’s get going. We wouldn’t want to keep everyone waiting.”

“Oh? What’s the rush? Eager to see samurai-guy again?”

She could feel herself getting warm from Suna’s line of questions. Though it didn’t stop her from saying, “His name is Azumane Asahi.”

Suna exhaled but still smiled nonetheless. “If he cares for you, the same way you care for him then I guess I’ll remember his name.”

(Y/N) smiled at Suna and nodded. As the middle blocker made his way to follow the rest of the team, the manager slowly trailed after him. She took out her phone and reread the text Asahi sent her.

Hey (Y/N)-san. I don’t know if you want to hear from me or not but I hope you do. I wanted to talk with you face-to-face but I’m about to leave. I was waiting for you but I guess you were busy? I mean, I understand if you were. So if you’re free and if there’s any chance we could talk in person somehow, could you text me back? I want to explain myself to you (if that makes sense). Please… Thanks.

Even with words on a phone screen, (Y/N) can feel how anxious Asahi must have been when writing this message. It was almost adorable in a way. Then again, the fact that he said he waited for her really had her heart skip a beat.

She quickly typed her response:

Hi Asahi! I’m sorry we couldn’t meet up after the match. We were taking a picture and it took longer than expected lol. I’m sorry you waited for me. I wanted to talk with you too. Congrats on winning! It was a great game! If it’s okay with you, do you want to meet up tonight? Our coach is taking us out to eat so I’ll text you when we’re back at the hotel.

It didn’t take long for another message to show up and she felt herself smile like a fool in love when she opened and read Asahi’s text.

If it’s no trouble then yeah let’s meet up. Enjoy your meal and see you soon.

(Y/N) smiled to herself once more as she held her phone close to her heart. She couldn’t wait to see him again.

~Hours Later~

“SAMU!! QUIT STEALING MY ONIGIRI!!”

“IT WAS MINE FIRST AND YOU KNOW IT!!”

(Y/N) sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time today but the amused smile never left her lips as she watched the twins continue to bicker. The other third-years sitting next to her also watched in amusement while adding their own comments.

“I’m gonna miss this.” (Y/N) confessed when she took a sip of her drink. “You can always count on the twins for entertainment.”

“Right? It’s going to be weird without hearing their arguments.” Aran laughed.

“Or separating their fights once every two weeks.” Akagi added.

“They’ll be fine.” Kita spoke up from the center of the table. “They all will.”

And strangely enough, no one doubted the captain’s words. (Y/N) had no doubt in her mind that by this time next year, their juniors will make it to Nationals once again and when that time comes, she’ll be there.

“Hey (Y/N)-senpai? You’re still treating me to dessert, right?” Osamu asked from across the table. Sticky pieces of rice danced around his mouth but still had that hungry look in his eyes.

“HUH?! If he gets dessert, then I should too!” Atsumu proclaimed.

Yeah. She’ll definitely be there for them.

After leaving the restaurant with stomachs filled with ramen, curry, onigiri, and other delicious meals, the Inarizaki manager took her phone out and texted Asahi that she was on her way back to the hotel. With each passing minute, (Y/N) could feel herself become excited yet nervous at the same time. It wasn’t long until the familiar building of her hotel was right in front of her.

On the walk back to the hotel, she was laughing along with the rest of the third-years when she heard her name being called from outside the group.

“Asahi!” (Y/N) greeted him with a wave. It was almost natural to have a smile on her lips; the crush she had on Karasuno’s ace was so obvious. She can practically feel her face burn with all the warm fuzzy feelings against January’s chilly air.

“H-Hey (Y/N)!” He waved at her before giving the crowd of boys a nod of acknowledgement. His mind racked for the right words to say to them, but having ten or so guys staring (were they glaring at him?) made it almost impossible. Still, Asahi found the ability to speak and without stuttering he said, “Hey guys. Er, nice to see you again.”

While the first-years were too scared to reply and the second-years tried to maintain their silent dominance, it was Aran and Kita that finally broke the tension.

“Nice to see you too. Azumane, right?” Kita asked, giving the ace a warm smile. “You played a great game.”

“Oh, thanks! You guys did too.” Asahi returned the compliment, meaning every word.

“Your receives were impressive, Azumane-san.” Aran followed up. “How’s your shoulder? Hope I didn’t hurt you too badly.”

Funny how at the mention of his shoulder, Asahi felt it throb in pain. Still, he made himself smile and lied, “It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“That’s good to hear.” Aran laughed in good nature. “Karasuno is definitely a team to watch out for. Hope you’re ready for tomorrow.”

There were a couple of scoffs and a few mumbles but Asahi was sure he heard someone say, “Day three is always hell.” But before he could ask, (Y/N) clapped her hands together and stood in front of him.

“Guys, let’s not make Asahi nervous. He doesn’t need the extra stress.” She told her friends, making sure to give the second-years a pointed look just as Atsumu opened his mouth to say something. “Why don’t you all head inside? I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Kita nodded. “Alright, don’t stay out too long. You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll make sure she stays warm.” Asahi was quick to say, not realizing the slight innuendo his words sounded until it was too late. “I-I mean-”

Atsumu stepped forward with Osamu right behind him. “Oh, now we’re definitely staying.”

“No you are not.”

The Inarizaki setter flinched under Kita’s ice cold words that felt like a punch to the gut.

“B-But (Y/N)-senpai-”

“Let’s go, you two.” Aran placed his hands on each of the twin’s shoulders before forcing them to the hotel’s entrance. “I’m sure your company isn’t needed.”

“What are you talking about? I make great company.” Atsumu argued.

Osamu scoffed. “Not really.”

“Shut yer trap, ‘Samu!”

Kita sighed before facing (Y/N) and Asahi. “Sorry about them. They mean well. Go ahead and have your conversation.”

“Thanks, Shin.” (Y/N) told him as she hugged her friend. “You’re the best.”

“No problem.”

With one final wave, the Inarizaki captain followed the rest of his team. He helped Aran push the resistant twins into the hotel, but not before Osamu yelled, “No funny business!”

“Yeah! What ‘Samu said!” Atsumu called out from over Aran’s shoulders. “(Y/N)-senpai is our manager. Don’t hurt her!”

“QUIT TALKIN’ AND GET INSIDE, YA STUPID TWINS!” Aran yelled as he gave one last push to make the Miya brothers enter the hotel.

(Y/N) sighed before facing her crush. It wasn’t until now she realized how warm she felt until a cold breeze flew by. It was funny how a crush can emit such feelings. She wouldn’t deny she never had a crush before. Perhaps there were fleetings moments of admiration and adoration to some guys at school and an embarrassing fangirl crush on famous celebrities.

But never before have the butterflies in her stomach felt so impactful. Asahi has unknowingly made his way to her heart and caused the warm feeling of love to bloom.

Which is why she couldn’t help but smile up at Asahi. He looked taller up close. Broader too. His hair wasn’t in its usual style, instead it was in a low man bun with a few strands framing his face very well. His eyes remained kind and warm and she could feel herself fall deeper in love with him.

“So,” (Y/N) began, her hand instinctively tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Your text said you wanted to talk?

“Y-Yeah.” Asahi confirmed nervously. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything with your team. You guys look close.”

She smiled at how anxious Asahi was behaving and a small part of her hoped it was because of her. “I could say the same thing about your team, but don’t worry about them. We spent the entire evening together so they should be fine without me for a while.”

“Are you sure?” Asahi asked, the worry in his voice was evident and (Y/N) knew she had to do something to help him calm down. “I-If y-you rather be with t-them-”

Without a second thought, (Y/N) took his hand and held it reassuringly, “I want to be with you.”

Her heart swelled when she saw how Asahi’s eyes seemed to light up as he asked, “Really?”

“Really.” She confirmed, her voice firm yet gentle that washed away all doubt in Asahi’s mind. “Now, come on. Let’s sit down and have a friendly chat.”

Never before has Asahi felt his heart beating so fast against his chest than it was at this very moment. He was feeling hot and cold at the same time. His stomach was in multiple knots with those metaphorical butterflies dancing between his ribcage. Was it weird for his mind to go a million miles a minute yet he couldn’t figure out what to say to the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on?

(Y/N) looked like an angel sitting under the strings of outdoor lights. Even while wearing casual winter clothes with her maroon Inarizaki jacket and a red scarf, Asahi thought she looked ethereal. Her (H/C) hair looked so elegant, almost magical in a sense when he noticed tiny snowflakes decorating her head, like shimmering diamonds. Then there was that smile of hers. A smile that made him feel like he could do anything in the world. He wished he could see that smile of hers for the rest of his life.

“So, what did you want to talk about, Asahi?” (Y/N) asked, her eyes were bright and inquisitive. “Your text said you wanted to explain yourself?”

“Y-Yeah, I did.” He admitted, his hand rubbing the back of neck. He took a deep breath to calm down before facing his crush. “I-I wanted t-to apologize.”

(Y/N) furrowed her brow upon hearing this. “What? Asahi, what are you- H-Hey!”

He was bowing his head and before she could ask further questions, Asahi spoke, “I-I’m sorry that w-we ruined your chance to advance. Y-You guys were the favorites to win this whole thing! A-And it’s y-your last year too! I’m sorry we took your chance away. Please forgive me!”

Asahi didn’t dare raise his head after spilling everything he felt ever since the match ended. He could feel his ears beginning to burn against the cold air. The silence was unnerving and it didn’t help when his mind was overtaken by anxiety.

‘Why would (Y/N) ever forgive me?’ He frustratedly asked himself. ‘She probably hates me. No. I’m sure she hates me and probably everyone on my team.’

‘(Y/N) is not like that. She’s kind, considerate…’ The tiny voice of hope spoke up. ‘She doesn’t hate you. You’re friends-’

But the dark voice of anxiety and doubt took over. ‘For now. (Y/N) probably only agreed to talk to you so she can say it’s over. She doesn’t want anything to do with you. Why would she be friends with the person who stole her and her team’s chance to win?!’

“Asahi.” (Y/N)��s voice sounded so soft and full of care. It may sound crazy but just hearing his name in her voice made Asahi feel the warmest he has ever felt. “Please look at me.”

He didn’t want to but something in her voice reassured him, similar to a ray of sunlight after a hurricane. Slowly, Asahi looked up and his eyes immediately found comfort in (Y/N)’s eyes. His heart skipped a beat when he saw (Y/N) was smiling up at him, not an ounce of hate anywhere.

“I thought we agreed that whatever the outcome of the match, we’ll be okay?” (Y/N) asked before taking hold of his hand, the very hand she shook when they made the agreement. “We shook on it, remember?”

Asahi felt himself flush under her words but he still found the courage to speak as he said, “I-I just thought… You would, I-I don’t know…hate me after what happened today.”

“I would never! Today’s match was the result of everyone’s hard work. Everyone played amazing. You guys won fair and square. If there’s anything I should feel, I think being grateful comes to mind. In fact, I feel like I should thank you.”

“Thank me?” Surely, he must have heard her wrong.

But (Y/N) flashed him a bright grin and nodded, “You and your teammates gave motivation to my team the next time they get to Nationals. I’m not sure if you realized this, Asahi, but you guys represent Nationals to a lot of people now.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad. I want to do something, anything, to make you feel better.”

Out of everything that came to mind, Asahi wasn’t expecting to be punched in the shoulder by the girl he has a major crush on. It was just like yesterday, (Y/N)’s punch wasn’t as forceful as Suga’s nor was it delicate and yet it was enough to send shivers and goosebumps all throughout his body. Then when her eyes met his, Asahi swore his breath was taken away with how close she was to him.

“First, you can stop feeling bad. I’m okay, really.” Her hand lifted again and Asahi mentally prepared himself to be punched again only to have her hand on his shoulder. (Y/N) offered a gentle smile before continuing on. “And second, if you really want to make me feel better then take the win. Take it and do the same thing tomorrow. Play each set and win some more. I promise if you do that, I’ll be more than okay because I’ll be rooting for you.”

Just hearing her words of encouragement was enough to make his head spin. All the self-doubt threatening to take over his mind washed away. How does she do that? Say these words so easily that brought him back from the edge? Words that held such meaning that easily helped him calm down and breathe.

“Asahi? You okay?”

“Ah! Yeah! Sorry! It’s just…” Asahi looked at his feet, his hand scratching his cheek. “You just surprised me is all…”

(Y/N) was taken aback before smiling, “I hope that’s a good thing. But I meant what I said, Asahi. Though if you’re still worried about me being sad and you were serious about making me feel better then maybe… You could do me a favor?”

Asahi jumped at the chance and nodded furiously. “Anything!”

It was hard to hide the laugh that threatened to escape but (Y/N) can’t help how adorable Asahi was behaving. He’s a teddy bear. Ugh! She just wanted to hug this gentle giant!

“Win the next match for us.”

He opened his mouth to say something, anything really, but his mind was still reeling of how sincere (Y/N) was with him at this moment. His eyes never left hers, searching for any hint of sadness or bitterness. Instead, he felt himself getting lost the longer he gazed into those beautiful, kind eyes.

After what felt like a lifetime, Asahi found his voice and for the first time his voice did not waver, “We will.”

(Y/N) smiled before nudging her shoulder against his. “That’s the spirit! Plus look on the bright side, Karasuno is getting popular. I’m sure after today you guys earned some fans cheering you on. You’re definitely going to have fans cheering you on.”

Asahi let out a nervous chuckle. “I guess so. I just hope I don’t disappoint them tomorrow.”

“Hey!” A series of soft pats made their mark on his shoulder and Asahi could feel himself flush under her touch. “Think positive! Remember you’re not alone. You have your friends and the rest of your team that you can rely on.”

There was a moment of hesitation. He can see it in her eyes though it was gone because (Y/N) smiled at him and said words he won’t be forgetting anytime soon, “And if it helps, you have me too.”

She didn’t physically hug him but she might as well have with her words that filled Asahi’s whole being with warmth.

“It does. Thanks, (Y/N). You-” Asahi stopped himself when he realized he was about to say something embarrassing. Instead he said what he always thought since yesterday, “You’re amazing.”

This time it was her turn to flush under his gaze. His warm brown eyes had her melting in her seat. Out of habit, (Y/N) let out a nervous laugh before playing with a strand of her hair, “I’m not as cool as you, Asahi, but thank you for saying that.”

The two high schoolers sat in comfortable silence underneath the twinkling lights and while neither one of them said a word they found themselves gazing at the dark sky full of stars. Maybe there was a stolen glance or two but no one said anything.

“Hey, Asahi?”

“Yeah?”

“This is going to sound a bit weird but… What’s your star sign?”

Asahi furrowed his brow but he answered nonetheless. “I’m a Capricorn.”

For some reason, a childhood memory played in his mind and the thought of it made him smile. It was a bit silly thinking about it but it was a precious memory all the same.

“You know, when I was a little kid I used to spend all my time looking for the Capricorn constellation.”

“Oh? Any reason why?” (Y/N) asked with genuine curiosity.

Asahi looked up at the sky full of stars. It was a shame they were in Tokyo as the bright city’s lights made the stars look faint, almost dim.

“Well, I thought that if I could find my constellation in the sky and make a wish it would come true.” The ace felt his neck grow hot when he confessed the next detail. “But whenever I couldn’t find it, I would go crying to my grandma.”

“Aww, Asahi.” (Y/N) cooed though there was a faint glint of amusement in her eyes. Her imagination took over as she thought of how cute Asahi must have been as a kid. He must have been the sweetest little kid with the biggest heart. “That’s adorable. Do you still look for your sign or did you grow out of it?”

“Will you think it's embarrassing if I admit I still do?” Asahi asked.

“Course not. I think it’s sweet to carry on your childhood tradition. I hope you made a lot of wishes.” (Y/N) looked back at the sky and sighed. “I wish I could see my star sign right now. I don’t even know what mine looks like.”

“Really?”

(Y/N) rubbed her hands together, trying to bring back some warmth. “You can’t really see the stars well back in Hyōgo.”

Asahi rubbed his neck. “Well, if you want… I could show you.”

Surprised, (Y/N) looked at him before asking, “You would do that for me? You know you don’t have to, right?”

“I want to. You did a lot to help me. Besides, after looking at the stars for so long I’m sure I can find your star sign.” He looked at the sky and his heart physically deflated when he saw how faint the stars looked above the Tokyo city’s lights. “Though I won’t have any luck seeing any constellations tonight. I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) giggled before nudging her shoulder with his. “You really like apologizing, don’t you Asahi? It’s not like you could control the weather or light pollution. But it’s nice of you to offer. Maybe one day I can visit Miyagi and see what the stars are like from your perspective.”

Asahi felt his heart skipping a beat at the sound of her laughter and the smile in her eyes. While he only met her literally yesterday, he felt comfortable enough to relax around her, even if his heart was going a hundred miles an hour and his skin felt like lava.

He didn’t know where he found this extra boost of confidence to say, “I could show you around if you want. Miyagi has a lot of hidden gems that only locals know about. We can hang out i-if you want to.”

“I’d like that. Can’t wait for the tour.” (Y/N) said as she clapped her hands together in glee. “Maybe one day, you could visit Hyōgo and I could show you around too!”

“If it’s not a bother to you then yeah, I could pay a visit.”

“Great!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Hyōgo has a lot of tourist attractions we can visit. I’ll show you all my favorite spots! Oh, like the Kobe Port Tower! It’s 108 meters high and it's designed to look like a traditional Japanese drum. It has an observation deck where you can see for miles! It even has a revolving cafe! Or if you don’t like heights, there's the Himeji Castle. It’s a very popular tourist spot because of its architecture-”

It was only then she realized how much she was rambling. She glanced at Asahi only to find him already staring at her with those warm brown eyes, as if she did something amazing. Embarrassed, (Y/N) tried to hide herself behind her red scarf.

“Sorry.” What was she apologizing for? (Y/N) didn’t know. Maybe Asahi’s habit of excessive apologizing was starting to rub off on her. “I got excited for a second. I ramble whenever it’s a topic I’m passionate about. I know architecture is a bit boring to some people but I think it’s so cool to see the different kinds of designs buildings can have and- Oh. Sorry I’m rambling again.”

“I don’t mind.” Asahi told her along with a soft smile. “I think it’s cute.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened when she heard her crush calling her cute. Did he realize what he just said? Or did she imagine it? So she had to ask, “Did you just say cute?”

The look on Asahi’s face quickly morphed into one of panic as he tried to jumble out a reply with an obvious blush painting his face, “I- Uh? No? I mean, I did. B-But I-I meant you’re rambling. N-Not you specifically. W-Wait! I think you’re cute too! P-Pretty even!”

(Y/N) couldn’t hold back her laughter at how panicked Karasuno’s ace was currently behaving. So strong on the court and yet he was practically shaking like a fall leaf.

“Asahi, it’s okay. Breathe.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, hoping it offered comfort. “It’s just me.”

“I-I know.” He took a deep breath before facing her. “But I meant what I said. A-About you.”

There goes her heart again, beating like crazy against her chest. “Thanks Asahi… I… I think you’re pretty cute too. And you’re an amazing player.” She sighed longingly. “I just wish I can see you guys play again.”

“Wait,” Asahi furrowed his brow, concerned . “You aren’t coming to the match tomorrow?”

“I…I don’t know. I heard the coaches talk about it during dinner. Apparently, the principal called. He expected us to place further along in the tournament and since we didn’t… Well, there’s a chance we might go back to Hyōgo tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t hide the bitter disappointment in his voice. Now more than ever, he didn’t want this night to end. It might sound a bit silly but he wanted to keep seeing (Y/N). Today’s victory dimmed in comparison now that he learned this might be the last time he’ll see (Y/N) in a long time. “Sorry again.”

“Hey, come on, Asahi.” (Y/N) got up from her spot and stood in front of him. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes pleaded for the truth.

(Y/N)’s light chuckle pulled his heartstrings and the vibrations sent warmth from his chest all the way to his fingertips. He can feel himself falling in love with her all over again when she surprised his soul out of his body the moment her hands touched his. She pulled him towards her and he was so anxious he almost tripped over his own feet as he stood in front of her.

Then Asahi felt it. Her arms wrapped around his torso bringing him close. It was a hug that sent a huge swarm of butterflies in his stomach. She was so close, closer than he has ever been to her. Wait… That’s not exactly true. Yesterday, when he saved (Y/N) from getting hurt, he was able to pull her aside just in time. (Y/N) stood right next to him with his arm around her. It was the first time he ever did something that brave and he remembered every second of it in that short moment.

But that moment of (Y/N) being next to him so close only lasted a minute. Asahi thought nothing could top the moment he met the girl that made his heart race.

Boy, was he wrong. Maybe his so-called bad fortune from his new year shrine visit was wrong. Or maybe the gods thought it was time to cut him a break. Perhaps he did something in his past life that granted him this moment right now. Whatever it was, he didn’t want this moment to end.

(Y/N) had her ear pressed into Asahi’s firm chest as she continued to hug him. She could hear how fast his heart was beating and she smiled to herself because of it. It was cute that she had this kind of effect on her crush.

“(Y/N)?” His deep voice reached her ears and while she couldn’t see him she could imagine the nervous expression on his face. “Is this okay? You hugging me? I mean, w-we only met yesterday…”

“Are you uncomfortable with me hugging you, Asahi?”

“No!” He was quick to reply. “I just meant… You don’t have to hug me.”

“You’re my friend and this is my way of showing you that there’s really nothing to forgive. You don’t have to apologize anymore.” She pulled away and smiled brightly up at him. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Amazing.”

“Awesome.”

“Cool.”

“Uhh… Warm?”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

Asahi let out a nervous chuckle. “I-I don’t know. You’re warm so I said what was off the top of my head.”

The two high schoolers stared at each other before they laughed together. They were still in each other’s arms but they made no movement to separate. If anyone were to walk by and saw them together, no one would have any doubts about how genuine young love can be.

Which is why they were surprised to hear a familiar voice that broke the calm, soothing atmosphere around them.

“Oh? Asahi-senpai! I didn’t know you had a girlfriend!”

(Y/N) pulled away but she didn’t stray too far as she stood her ground by Asahi’s side. Her eyes met with the innocent yet excited eyes of Karasuno’s #10, Hinata Shoyo and not far from him was the other half of the terrifying duo, Kageyama Tobio. Well, at least no else was here- Oh. Wait. Was that Tsukishima on a bicycle?

“Hinata!” Asahi shouted before turning back to (Y/N). “Sorry about him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

The manager smiled and reassured him that it was okay. She then turned to face Karasuno’s first years and introduced herself. They did the same and Asahi was just about to sigh in relief when-

“So are you Asahi-senpai’s girlfriend?” This time it was Kageyama who asked.

(Y/N) felt her neck warm up and it wasn’t because of her scarf. Out of habit, she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before answering, “No, I’m not. I’m just a friend.”

Hinata and Kageyama looked satisfied with the answer. However, Tsukishima looked unconvinced. His calculated eyes looked at his upperclassman as if asking for the truth. Asahi tried to convey the silent message to leave them alone to the middle blocker, hoping they could leave them alone. Preferably before the duo could ask any more embarrassing questions.

“Hey, Asahi-san, why are you holding hands-”

“Come on, you two,” Tsukishima, Asahi’s savior right now, grabbed their collars. He bowed before his upperclassmen before dragging his teammates. “We finished your nightly jog. It’s time to get back.”

“Ack! You’re choking me!” Hinata cried.

“You don’t have to push! Besides, Asahi has to come too!” Kageyama argued, clearly frustrated at how he was being manhandled by the snarky middle blocker.

“No. Asahi’s right where he has to be.” Tsukishima stated. “You idiot.”

“HUH?!”

(Y/N) watched in amusement as the trio of first years entered their little inn. “They sure are interesting.”

“Sorry about that. They can be a bit much.”

“Oh, that’s okay. The Miya twins are like that too. But I think… I should let you get back. It’s getting late and you need your sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day for you.”

“Right. Tomorrow…” Asahi wished there were more than 24 hours in the day. “So I guess this is it?”

“Yeah...”

Her hand was still interlocked with his but did not make the effort to leave. She still wanted to spend time with him. Instead, she said, “So, um, good luck tomorrow. I might not be there in person but I’ll be cheering for you.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

“You got this Asahi.” She gave him one last hug. “I know you do.”

The ace hugged her back one last time before he awkwardly pulled away. (Y/N) cleared her throat before smiling.

“Keep in touch?” She asked.

Asahi nodded. “Of course. I’ll call you before and after the match.”

“Okay… You know, Asahi, I’m glad we’ve met each other. You’re not like any guy I’ve ever met.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

(Y/N) laughed but nodded. “Yes. I’m glad we've become friends. I would have hated for you to be someone I used to know.”

“Me too… So I guess, this is goodbye?” Asahi couldn’t hide the sadness in his voice. His eyes landed where their hands were still connected.

“Mmm, it’s more like see you later. We’ll see each other again.”

It was a silent promise under the endless night sky where the moon and stars were the only witnesses to see how enchanted Karasuno’s ace and Inarizaki’s manager were with each other.

~ Meanwhile inside Inarizaki’s hotel room~

“Say Aran-kun.”

“What’s up, Osamu?”

“I wasn’t going to ask but (Y/N) brought it to my attention so I’m curious. What did you tell Azumane when you shook hands?”

“Oh that?” Inarizaki’s ace smiled to himself as he recalled that specific moment. “I just gave him friendly advice.”

“Which was?”

“Please don’t hurt my friend.”

Next: Chapter 5

#haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyu #asahi x reader #asahi fluff #asahi azumane x reader #haikyuu #asahi x you #haikyu imagines #haikyuu x reader #ace x manager #friends to lovers prompts #karasuno #inarizaki #slow burn #asahi azumane #haikyu spoilers #hq

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 30 days

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WHAT UP, MY DARLINGS

Sorry for the long hiatus. New full-time job was kicking my ass, and I also realized there were a lot of changes I wanted to make to what I'd already written. That said, new chapter of my Feyd Rautha/Reader arranged marriage!AU is up.

Link to full AO3 fic here

Tags and CW for this chapter: switching; riding; body worship; come-eating; knifeplay; nipple play; oral sex (M+receiving); mentions of past self-harm; masochism; orgasm delay; teasing; subspace!Feyd; pregnancy discussions; dom!Feyd as well as sub!Feyd; both dom! and sub!reader; subspace and subdrop; collars; leashes; blindfolds; face-fucking; implied/referenced past child abuse; implied/referenced past incest; the Reader being an unreliable narrator/having way too much trust in the Bene Gesserit; mentions of Feyd's mommy issues

This takes place seconds after the previous chapter so if you need a refresher I also have the previous tumblr chapter here. Even with the tags up above this is definitely the softest and most romantic chapter I've put up so far. Like, by a significant margin.

CHAPTER TEN: UNLEASHED

For a few minutes all you do is kiss, lazily, trying not to move your hips too much as you lay atop him and his hands pass over your ribcage, your sides, your hips, before curling into your hair.

You're sweet like this, you almost say. Never thought I'd be able to say that about you.

You drop your head and bring your mouth just below his ear, at the juncture of his jaw and neck. Past experiences dating even prior to him taught you that this is a weak spot for you, and it appears to be the case for him as well as he gasps. You remember the knife beside you, think about how he always enjoys a bit of pain to heighten his pleasure, and curl your fingers around the hilt.

You’re almost stunned at your own confidence as you do it, your bone-deep certainty that Feyd will enjoy this, as you lean upwards, taking the knife, and just barely pressing it against his chest, drawing a thin red line that ends just above his left nipple. The cut’s shallow and the knife’s sharp so it probably doesn’t hurt much, even as Feyd shifts and arches his hips, browline furrowing and mouth falling open in a silent gasp. And then you lean down and lap up the blood welling up in slow, deliberate licks.

His dick twitches inside of you, and you gasp as it starts to fill out–slower than before, but awakening all the same. He gives a rattling breath as you close your teeth around the nipple and tug lightly. His hand curls around the back of your head but applies no pressure, as if he isn’t sure if he wants you to keep going or pull back, groaning and filling out more as you gently roll your hips and set the knife down beside you. You smirk around his bare skin, clench around his finally-stiff cock, and think, Alright. I think it’s safe to say you’re ready for round two .

You sit up all the way, then, fanning your fingertips over his chest at first, fingertips of your right hand catching the last tear-droplets of blood that you bring to your mouth, sucking on your fingertips as you roll your hips properly. Will he wear his favorite collar next time he lets you use him like this? Will he still lie docile, waiting for you to command him?

You picture it, and groan at the idea: him with his hands tied–wrists bound above his head, or maybe, oh, Great Mother, tied to the bedposts. Is that why he has hooks on each of his bedposts? You laugh, the heat already building up your spine, coming swiftly for you as you bear down on him, head falling back as the laughter turns into a moan as you shift your hips in just the right angle. Incredible . You can’t help it as the words spill out of you. “I could do this all night,” you tell him. “I– oh, fuck– I could ride your fat cock all night. Would you like that, Feyd?”

He groans an affirmative, and you feel all the hotter for it, stunned at how quickly the heat builds again, at the obscene squelch of your slick around him. You move his hands from your hips to your breasts and he immediately understands your instructions, squeezing and fondling them as you topple effortlessly into your third orgasm, leaning back at just the right angle, both hands braced on his thighs.

Thing is, you meant it when you said you could keep going, if nothing else than sheer force of will. You keep moving, desperate to come again, desperate to keep him inside of you for just a little longer, searching for the moment where you hit your threshold.

“Don’t come yet,” you tell him, panting. “Not until I come again.”

Feyd groans under you and it takes you a moment to realize that it’s not out of protest, but arousal. You try to make sense of it as you finally understand the phrase ‘ drunk with power ’ because the hold you have over him right now is utterly intoxicating.

It makes sense; one of Feyd’s strongest qualities is his discipline. You venture further, trying your luck. “If you want to come then make yourself useful, Feyd,” you tell him, and he gets to work, spitting on his thumb and bringing it to your bud, as if you’d need the extra lubrication when you can feel his previous spend leaking out of you.

You reach down and pinch both nipples, twisting. His hips jolt up, nearly knocking the wind out of you as it feels like his cock is all the way up in your ribcage, but he doesn’t come, even as he gives an agonized groan and the cords of muscle in his neck bulge. He arches his back, jaw clenched, eyes shut.

Oh, that won’t do .

“Look at me, Feyd,” you tell him. You want him to see your face when you come, and it’s so close you’re about to lose your mind. Four times in one night . You didn’t think such a thing was possible.

He obeys you with a low groan, working your bud faster, managing to meet your frantic pace, his pupils blown wide, beautiful and pitiful and vulnerable and entirely at your mercy. His cock has never felt so good , you think, one final roll of your hips hitting just at the right angle inside of you.

You come with a guttural wail, head falling back, trembling and feeling utterly possessed, hips still moving but quickly losing rhythm, just frantic grinding on top of him to wring every last drop of pleasure you can get out of him.

Feyd gives out a pained growl of his own but you don’t feel the tell-tale sensation of him spilling within you. You open your eyes as you pant and stare down at his slack face.

Please. Please tell me I can come, Y/N, he seems to be pleading with you . I need your permission to come. Have I not been good for you? he seems to ask. And he has been good, hasn’t he? So good and obedient, laying there and taking it, letting you use him. The grip he has on your hips is going to leave bruises and you’ll prod at them later with fondness.

“That’s it, come for me, Feyd,” you tell him, and he does, spasming, hips bucking up into you as he groans, still sounding like he’s either in paradise or agony and that he loves it either way. The moment lasts for another moment, him spurting inside of you as every muscle seems locked, and then on an exhale he sinks back down, his grip on your hips and thighs loosening.

He shuts his eyes as he gathers his breath and his face starts to relax.

“Hey,” you say, voice gentler this time, waiting for him to absorb the words. “Look at me,” you tell him as you stroke his cheek. He does, eyes opening wide and bright, full lips parted. You smile down at him, thinking, you’re so beautiful . And he is beautiful, in the way that a briefly-tamed beast is beautiful. For a moment you remain still, sitting on him, feeling him softening inside of you, wondering what he’s seeing when he stares up at you. If it’s as stunning to him as he is to you right now. Then you finally dismount, panting, looking at the pallor of his face as close to flushed as he’s ever going to get.

You wonder–while he’s like this, open and vulnerable, if maybe he’d–? Even still in a near-euphoric haze, you pay close attention to the way he breathes when you lean down and kiss his neck, when you nip at his pulse point again. He gives a soft sigh and you slide down further and scrape your teeth across one of his nipples. This time he gasps, hands leaving your sides to clutch at the sheets.

“Yes, that’s good,” you murmur. “Keep them there.”

He does, and you watch the corded muscles of his forearms clench and shift to obey you. You smile again, feeling strangely fond, as you go lower.

His pants are still around his knees and it doesn’t take much effort to tug them down and toss them over the edge of the bed. His cock is utterly coated in both of you, and a thought occurs that’s so obscene it surprises you, but piques your curiosity.

After half a second of hesitation, you lick the spend off of his cock and go lower, to where it’s drizzled down one testicle, and then the other. He’s never let you do this before, never let you taste and touch him on your own terms rather than feeding his cock into the cavern of your mouth, and the idea of continuing to play with him is too tempting to ignore.

His breath hitches and his stomach clenches, and for a moment you pause, waiting for him to tell you to stop, but he doesn’t. He trembles under you, spreading his legs a little more, and you look up to see his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a wet gasp.

“Do you like this, husband?” you ask him. You keep your voice quiet, as if any volume above your near-whisper would penetrate the fog that’s settled over you. He jerks a nod.

It should probably feel subservient, licking him clean like this. It doesn’t. You’ve never felt more powerful in your life. You kiss the top of one thigh, wanting to bring your mouth to his scars, but refraining. He’s being so pliant, so patient for you–you don’t want to risk ruining it, uncertain if such an intimate touch there would. Instead you finally bring them up. “These scars don’t match.”

Feyd makes a noise like he’s only starting to come back to his senses, but still foggy. Still lost.

“The scars on your legs. One of the legs has different cuts from the other.” You stroke his hip and outer thigh as you stay propped up above him. “How’d you get them?” You don’t think they came from the Baron.

“Left leg, seventeen. A woman did it to me,” Feyd says. “I asked her to.” Asked . Not commanded. Interesting. “Right leg, a few weeks later. Did it to myself, wanted to replicate the feeling.”

You glance back down between his thighs as he’s still obediently laid out before you. The scars on his right thigh look deeper and angrier with shorter strokes. “Did it work?”

“Not really. It’s not the same if you do it to yourself,” he says. “I just ended up losing a lot of blood and passing out.”

You give a soft hum and nuzzle your cheek against his inner right thigh before turning your head and licking along the scars. His breath hitches, and you sink your teeth in. It’s more of a playful bite, not hard enough to even try to break skin, before coming back up, face to face with him.

Feyd kisses you languidly, accepting the taste of you, of him, on his tongue, and burying both hands in your hair. He sighs into it, closing his eyes, relaxing into it and letting you control the pace until you break away, coming down from the peaks you’ve reached.

You’re an utter mess between your legs, you think as you set the knife on your nightstand and the two of you pull up the covers that had been kicked down around both of your ankles earlier.

How did they end up that way, again? Oh, right, my husband ambushed me in bed while I was asleep and rewarded me by letting me use his body as my personal playground .

“You know,” he says, still seeming somewhat out of it–and no wonder, you are, too– “there are devices, something I can wear next time you ride me. It would delay things even further, making you able to come five times for every time I come once. You’d be able to ride me for hours, if you wanted.”

Part of you would prefer to test his self-control to its furthest limits without the use of an aid, but his suggestion makes you smile as you settle in with him. “That so?” you ask.

“You took to it like nothing I’ve ever seen, Y/N,” he says, as you settle back, turning off the lights once more.

He turns to lay on top of you; you feel him squeeze his eyes shut as he rests his head against your shoulder. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you gently stroke the back of his head and neck and wrap your other arm around his back.

It’s something wonderful and powerful he’s given you, and you’re certain that he wouldn’t have unless he felt you earned it.

He takes a deep breath as he wraps his arms around you, as he moves his body down lower and lays his head on your stomach.

“Is this what you need, husband?” you ask. There’s probably proper terminology for this sort of thing, but you don’t know it.

He nods.

“In a couple of days we’ll find out if life’s growing in there,” you say idly as he nuzzles against the soft skin of your belly.

“There is. A boy,” he tells you and you laugh. Wishful thinking. How could he possibly know?

“I saw him,” he says, as if he can read your thoughts. “Dreamt about you giving birth to him.”

“A dream doesn’t predict the future, though,” you tell him as you absently run your fingers over the back of his head and neck.

“It’s not the first time I’ve dreamt of something that came true, faces I’d never seen before but met later on,” he says.

“Oh?” you ask, and he gives a grunt in the affirmative, but says nothing else. His breathing grows slower and his muscles slack. You lay there in silence with him as he drifts off, still nestled against your stomach.

It's not the most comfortable position to try and fall asleep in, but you'll give him this. You laugh quietly to yourself as you look up at the ceiling.

You have to remind yourself that your husband of one month just pretended to be an assassin to test your training and reflexes, and it’s somehow brought the two of you closer together than ever before.

You wake hours later to an empty bed. There’s enough gray light streaming in to tell you before you’ve even looked at the timepiece on your nightstand that you’ve slept in. You rub the sleep out of your eyes as the events from the previous night–into the early morning–trickle back into your consciousness. For a moment you could almost believe that last night had been a dream, but the knife’s still on the bedside table and you feel a delicious soreness in your legs and abdomen and the less-enjoyable feeling of flakes of dried come on your lower lips and inner thighs. You can’t help but smile remembering Feyd slack-jawed and moaning underneath you, how good he felt inside of you from that angle, how insatiable you were.

There’s a knock at the door and you instinctively pull your sheets up to cover your breasts. “Who is it?” you call out, to hear Idrisa’s voice muffled from the other side assuring you that it’s just her with some morning refreshments.

“The Na-Baron wanted to let you sleep in, Na-Baroness,” Idrisa says as she comes in and sets down a tray.

“Oh?” you ask, reaching for your robe to put on as you swing your legs to the side of the bed and sit on its edge.

“He said you could take the morning off, Na-Baroness,” she tells you. “He said you had an eventful evening and you’re going to have a busy day. He said he wanted you well-rested.”

Last time he'd given you the morning off, it'd been because he was furious with you. You can't imagine that being the case today, but you’re also not entirely sure, and that makes you nervous. His birthday is two days from now; you can't afford to be on poor terms with him right now, between the Bene Gesserit visiting tomorrow and Feyd 's arena showing the day after that.

“How did he seem?” you ask, trying to process everything and imagining that a little caffeine will help.

“I did not see him, Na-Baroness,” Idrisa says. “I’d received word from a Fortress guard what his instructions had been. I heard nothing to suggest that he was in a foul mood, though.”

“Alright,” you say, still thinking, still wondering what the shift last night started will mean for you, in and out of the bedroom, going forward.

At breakfast there’s of course no acknowledgement of what transpired last night; neither of you would ever have that conversation in front of Feyd’s uncle anyway, but there’s a cool detachment in how Feyd treats you that feels tangible.

“Your brother sent word that he will not be attending your birthday festivities,” the Baron tells his nephew as soon as you’re seated, presumably continuing the conversation they were having before you came in.

“Best idea he’s had in months; it’ll save him the embarrassment of showing his face here,” Feyd says, wordlessly passing you a tray of fruit. The Baron narrows his eyes for a moment, looking between the two of you, as if there’s something conspicuous about a man passing a plate of food to his wife during breakfast. You look away, accepting the plate with a mouthed ‘ thank you ’ and pretending that you didn’t notice.

The conversation goes back to Feyd’s arena performance, with a brief discussion of the new Mentat, a man named Kalevi Itkonen. It’s a name you realize is familiar because he was one of the first faces you saw landing on Geidi Prime, and one that made another appearance at your wedding; a lean man who had greeted you and your family with a friendly smile that didn’t reach his dark, deep-set eyes. Affable, certainly compared to other Harkonnens, but seemingly amused at your dread and discomfort.

“May I ask what happened to the previous Mentat?” you ask.

The Baron sighs. “An unfortunate casualty during the fall of Atreides. It’s a shame; he was good. Of course, Itkonen’s fit for the job as well, if only Rabban was willing to listen to his statistics.”

If Rabban’s this bad at his job then why not reassign him to something else? Something where he isn’t in charge of Harkonnen lives? you want to ask, but instead offer your condolences. It’s thankfully the most you and the Baron interact but you don’t get any private time with Feyd to set him aside and ask if he’s alright.

Not long after breakfast Idrisa escorts you to the Dressmaker’s atelier, and the Dressmaker curtsies low and deep at your arrival.

“As requested, your gown for the Na-Baron’s birthday,” she says, stepping aside to show you the gown she made out of your measurements.

The dress is all black; common but not a requirement, you’ve noticed, for Harkonnen fashion. Shades of charcoal and gray are also in vogue, even tinted with navy or forest green. This, however, is as utterly devoid of color as Geidi Prime’s sun. That’s not what makes your eyes go wide.

“It’s revealing,” you say after a moment. The top half has thin straps, and you’re pretty sure the leather-like bands around the ribcage were added to make sure to not completely reveal your breasts, because it has a plunging neckline and no real back to speak of, you realize as you slowly walk around the mannequin. It’s fitted tight from the ribcage to the hips, only flowing once the hourglass shape ends. There’s a slit in the skirt that will reveal the curve of your thigh every time you walk. On the floor beneath it are a pair of black boots with a reasonably high heel and around the mannequin’s neck a necklace that looks almost like one of the collars Feyd-Rautha has used on you.

The Dressmaker’s face falls. “Does the Na-Baroness not like it?” she asks. “The Na-Baron specifically requested a gown that would show off his wife’s assets.”

“Thank you,” you say, realizing that you won’t be able to wear anything underneath to protect your nipples. “If that’s what he asked for then that’s certainly what he’s getting. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

It also sends quite a message. Look at the fecundity of the Na-Baroness’s body. Look at what the Na-Baron gets to take for himself whenever he wants . Look at how he owns her.

But that's the image you're meant to play. After his birthday will come the news of his upcoming fatherhood, and depending on how you play your hand, either the birth or Feyd 's coronation will come next.

You spend the afternoon practicing Harkonnen pleasantries and as such don’t see Feyd until dinnertime; he doesn’t say much, not to you or to the Baron, who reminds both of you about the Bene Gesserit visiting tomorrow.

“I trust you’ll have the results that they want,” he says, leaving the implications hanging open in the uncomfortable air between the three of you like wet laundry.

“We’ve done our part,” Feyd says, voice curt, tearing his bread in half with a little more force than usual. You’d not blame him for his irritation with his uncle but for the fact that you’re stuck here, too, sitting in uncomfortable silence, supposing you ought to be grateful that the Baron’s little jabs at your potential childbearing abilities aren’t out of any interest in you. But of course that’s due to the possibility that even though he probably hasn’t forced himself on his nephew in nearly a decade, he may still get some secondhand voyeuristic satisfaction thinking about how he performs in bed and the thought of that puts you off the rest of your dinner.

After the fact, while you’re getting ready to leave Feyd places a hand on your arm.

“Meet me in my room tonight,” he says quietly. You nod, glancing back at him, hoping for some sort of barometer for tonight and getting nothing.

Feyd’s naked, as he typically is during your night-time rendezvous, and you’ve matched him coming into his chambers. He stares at you for a moment without a word, cock not-yet awakened, his expression inscrutable.

You finally ask the question that’s been bothering you all day, hoping the honorific at the end will appease him. “Are you upset with me, husband?”

Feyd tilts his head ever so slightly. “Why would I be upset with you?” he asks, probably knowing the answer and pulling it out of you anyway. You fidget and twist your hands, trying to look him in the eye. Right now they give nothing away.

“Last night…we did something different. I liked it. It seemed like you liked it. But now I don’t know how you feel about me seeing you…like that.”

“Submissive and obedient?” he prompts you.

“Yes,” you manage, blinking, looking down, forcing yourself to look back up. Feyd’s gaze is dark, and for a moment cruel in the brief seconds of silence that drag on and make your heartbeat speed up.

“I do like it that way sometimes,” he says finally. “And I enjoyed it last night. So no, I’m not angry with you; you passed more than one test. If I’d known what you were capable of sooner, I’d have allowed you to take control sooner, but I wanted to wait to make sure you’d be equipped.”

“ Equipped? ” you repeat, raising your eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because in the past I’ve killed people who put me in that role but didn’t do it correctly,” he says. He sounds so casual and detached as he says it. “You know me well enough at this point that it won’t be an issue. My trust is not something I give out easily, so don’t take it for granted.”

“I won’t, husband,” you say quickly. “I assure you that I,” you take a breath, “I appreciate the…the trust and patience you showed me. But may I ask, why did you seem withdrawn earlier? It seemed like you regretted last night.”

A faint hint of a smile appears at the corners of his mouth. “Because it made me wonder if I could have the same effect on you.”

“I don’t think I understand,” you say. When have I not been at least to some extent obedient in bed with you? I’ve almost always been submissive.

“Don’t be naive, pet. It doesn’t suit you anymore. You saw how I got when you were on top of me, like I was almost delirious. Seemed at times like you were, last night, too. I wanna see if I can get you to that place where I’d gone last night. You’ve gotten close, but never quite there.”

You try to think. Yes, you suppose there have been times where you’ve felt a level of catharsis, exhaustion and relief, when he’s pushed your boundaries and tested how much you could take, what you enjoyed despite yourself. Thinking about it, though, he’s right. You never felt quite so dazed as Feyd looked, like he’d disappeared within himself.

Could you get there? Maybe. “So how do you want to go about it?” you ask.

“I want to see how much of it’s natural for you, see how much you trust me.”

“What makes you think you haven’t earned my trust?” you ask.

He looks at you and you can tell that if he had eyebrows, they’d be raised right now. “Because I still frighten you,” he says. “Not that I blame you; you know who and what I am, but even when you’ve enjoyed submitting to me, you’ve never quite let go and allowed me to possess you the way you did with me last night.” He crosses over to his armoire and opens a compartment in the lower drawers. “What’s been bothering me isn’t what happened last night. It’s that all day I’ve been wondering if I can really do the same to you.”

He pulls out a blindfold. You stare at it as you think about the collars, the leashes, the floggers, the clamps, the ropes and chains–the moments of shame for being subjugated replaced with shame for enjoying the sensations of it and his hungry gaze on you.

“So,” Feyd says, seeming to watch for any potential signal on your face. “Will you allow me to try?”

You’d gotten so wet last time he’d put you on a leash and collar that you’d been able to feel it trickling down the inside of your thigh. The only humiliation you’d felt then was knowing what your friends and family would think if they knew you were learning to get off to things like this. But they’re not here; it’s just you and Feyd.

You look at the blindfold for a moment before meeting his gaze again.

“Yes,” you tell him.

Feyd sets out his favorite collar for you alongside the blindfold on his dresser. After he grabs a length of silver chain he takes a step back and looks over at you as if to ask, Think you can handle it?

You simply brush your hair to the side so he can get the collar around your neck and he grins.

“Comfortable?” he asks as he fixes it around you.

“Yes, husband,” you tell him, and he gives a soft hum as he takes the blindfold and wraps it around your head. It's soft; your eyes flutter closed at the silk. His touch feels somehow more intimate with one of your senses gone.

“Good?” he asks again, and you nod. “I want a verbal confirmation.”

“Yes, husband,” you answer, meaning it. You can feel your nipples stiffening as the faint gust of his breath against the shell of your ear, hear the clink and swallow at the sudden weight of the chain being clipped to your collar. If you concentrate you think you can hear him breathing.

“Kneel,” he says, and you do, taking a deep breath, your hands at your sides. The chain starts to have more give, being tossed to you in increments as he seems to be walking way, to another spot in the room.

“Crawl over to me,” he says. “Follow the sound of my voice.”

You think you manage the right direction, moving slowly, until you hear him speak again.

“Stop right there, stay where you are,” he says, and you do, staying on your hands and knees, waiting for the next instructions. Several seconds tick by, and for a moment you drop your head, wondering what the next signal will be, what Feyd wants from you next. It doesn’t sound like he’s moved, but he can be utterly silent sometimes, so hard to detect. He’s still here, at least; you can feel the chain being held upright.

Please say something, do something. You wait, suppressing a whine, trying not to get agitated as the silence grows. You breathe in, breathe out, and try to focus on what’s grounding you–the marble floor below you, the leather of the collar and the weight of the chain. The certainty that there’s someone on the other end of it, holding it for you.

“I’m here, pet,” you suddenly hear above you. “Get on your haunches.”

You exhale. It occurs to you that a month ago you wouldn’t have imagined being relieved at the sound of a voice as rough as his, but warmth floods your belly as you do, sitting back on your heels and settling your palms on the tops of your thighs, waiting for more. Give me more. Push me. Show me what I’ve been missing and the place you went to last night while I was on top of you .

He leads you up to your knees and without thinking you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He’s only gotten you in this position before for one purpose, so the gesture comes naturally. There’s nothing to it, you realize.

Feyd laughs quietly above you. “That’s it. You know what to do,” he says as he pushes his cock inside. “My pretty, perfect cockslut. You love this, don’t you?”

You feel yourself flush, heat flooding your face and licking up your spine. No one’s ever called you a slut before; you’d bristle at the term were it not for the fondness in Feyd’s voice, the warmth of his palm cupping your face and traveling into your hair. Without letting yourself question it you moan an assent, hands at your sides, focusing on breathing through your nose.

“Sometimes I think about claiming you in the arena,” he says, one hand secured on the chain, the other clutching the back of your head as he presses in deeper. “Showing my people how breedable you are. But I’d kill anyone else who’d ever see you like this.”

You whimper around him, trying to swallow down, trying not to gag, feeling all the wetter for it even as tears prick up at the corners of your eyes and dampen the fabric of your blindfold.

He pulls out, giving you a few seconds to breathe before pushing back in, and he’s in so impossibly deep, down your throat, that you don’t understand how you’re even taking him, but everything feels as if it’s encased in mist. All you can feel is the marble under your knees, your husband’s hands stabilizing you, his cock so close to cutting off your airflow until it doesn’t, and he releases you again–this time for an even shorter reprieve. You whimper again around it, holding still as he rocks his hips.

“You’re getting so good at this, pet,” he says. “Such a smart girl, learning so quickly.” He stops moving his hips but holds your head still for a moment, as if he’s simply curious to see how long you can take the length and girth of his cock in your mouth and down your throat, how long you can push past the discomfort and keep him there. And then in one practiced movement unlatches the leash from your collar, letting the chain fall to the floor. His grip relaxes in your hair, his hold barely more than a touch. You could pull off if you want, you realize, but he said he wants to see how obedient you can be, so you keep your hands at your sides as you swallow around him, the tears collecting in your lashes as you try to breathe through your nose.

The next time Feyd applies pressure, it’s to pull you off of him. You’re not entirely sure how long you had him down your throat, but you can feel the string of saliva connected to his cock as you gasp for air, coughing and sputtering. Your head swims. Feyd swipes his thumb over your chin and lips, collecting the saliva that’s pooled around the sides of your mouth. You’d give anything to see the expression on his face right now, but you also don’t want to take the blindfold off, not until he says so or does it himself.

Without thinking you nudge your head forward, once you’ve regained your breath and you’re certain you can take more–you can take anything he gives you and you gasp as Feyd stops you, your breath close to the head of his cock, you’re certain, but not quite touching it.

Give it to me, Feyd. Please, I can handle it. I want to prove it to you . You say nothing; you wait.

For a moment the tip of his cock brushes against your cheek and you turn your head, lavishing your tongue along his frenulum, wrapping your lips around the tip of him. You moan, utterly shameless, to try and encourage him to push in deeper. He just stays that way for a moment, though, not thrusting in, not burying his head in your hair to push your mouth onto him, either. He simply lets you feel the weight of him on your tongue before he takes a step back, slipping out, and you wait, unmoving, for what comes next, wet and pliant and ready. It’s only the marble beneath your knees that grounds you.

And then without a word he takes off your blindfold and you blink against the sudden light before you realize Feyd’s staring at you with his pupils blown wide like last night, chest heaving and mouth open. He cups your chin in one hand, eyes darting across your face. Does he see in your eyes what he felt last night?

“Get back on all fours for me, pet,” he says.

For a moment you feel disoriented. Does he want you on all fours on the bed or…?

“Right here, pet,” he says, knowing what you’re about to ask before you can ask it. You can’t speak, can’t form coherent words as you lean forward and brace yourself on your forearms, breathing in, then out. His voice sounds almost like it’s coming from another room or inside your own head, you think as he kneels behind you.

He wordlessly slides his head along the line of your spine, applying only the faintest of pressure, guiding your top half down, down, until you rest your cheek against the floor, your forearms a cage bracketing your head, your ass raised up to expose it and your weeping cunt to him. The cool marble feels nice against your flushed cheek.

He trails his fingertips along your slit, getting all the verification that he could need of what this is doing to you.

“Greedy, eager thing, aren’t you?” he says softly, and you sense him gripping his cock in his fist to line up against you. You can’t help the giggle that spills out of you. You really are, aren’t you?

He finally pushes in and you arch your back into it, wanting to slide the rest of the way onto him but waiting, knowing that you’ll accept what he gives you because you can.

“ Oh ,” you manage when he bottoms out inside of you. He’s still for just a moment, and for that moment you wait in delicious anticipation before he starts thrusting.

He doesn’t hold back, grabs your hips, kneads your ass, knowing you’ll stay face-down because there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. You probably sound needy and pathetic, but you don’t care. There’s no one here but the two of you as he pulls you onto his cock again and again, taking you on the floor, the sound of skin slapping skin, his grunts as he changes his angle that hits your insides differently, dragging against a spot within you that has you seeing spots and stars instead of the vantage point you have of the bed only a couple of meters away. You open your mouth in a silent scream, hips jerking uselessly, stomach clenching.

Feyd, ever so clever, senses your shift immediately and bears down on you from this new angle that’s probably strenuous on him, from the way the muscles in his thighs clench and his grunts become harsher, but he keeps going, giving you everything he can, everything you can take. You want to touch yourself, bring a hand between your legs, but you’re not going to. Feyd will handle it or he won’t. You feel drunk even though you haven’t had anything that could get you drunk in over a week.

“You want to come, Y/N?” Feyd asks behind you, and you moan an assent. “You’re gonna have to use your words if you want me to make you come,” he says, tone on the verge of scolding, but still playful enough to keep it from stinging.

It takes a moment to form any coherent words, the four syllables laborious. “Yes, please, husband,” you manage, voice sounding wrecked, and Feyd obliges you as soon as you get the words out, bringing his fingertips to where the two of you are joined, collecting the slick there, and rubbing circles along your bud. You can’t help but buck your hips, your moans desperate.

“That’s it, pet,” he says, rubbing harder now, probably relishing the sounds you’re making as he brings you over. You nearly black out, tears streaming down your face, clenching again and again around him, coming so hard you think you might actually be drooling, and then when you think the most intense shockwave of it has passed, you feel his seed filling you up.

I feel so full, Feyd , you think, delirious.

You can hear him panting and grunting behind you as he pulls out part way, the last of his come landing hot and viscous on the small of your back. You gasp, feeling decidedly marked up, but you don’t move, waiting for what’s coming next.

Feyd pauses; you hear his breath even out, and from the shift behind you you’re pretty sure he’s settled back onto his haunches. It seems to take him a moment to decide what he wants to do with you next before he’s kneading the soft flesh of your ass. You sigh at the contact, arching your back, and feel your mouth pop open in a surprised “Oh!” as Feyd’s tongue makes contact with your lower back, licking up the remaining droplets of his spend in one long stroke.

And then it’s done, but you don’t move, and for a moment neither does Feyd, who you suppose must just be staring at you and the way you’re exposed to him in a way that you could almost recall being humiliating around the time of your wedding but feels titillating now.

After a minute Feyd starts to get up, but you stay where you are, still face-down, ass-up, presented to him as if he were to start again immediately. He might. You can handle it if he does, you’re certain. You have no idea how long you remain there, the side of your face pressed against the floor, your body weight on your elbows and knees. The combination of yours and Feyd’s fluids seeping out of you start to turn sticky, but you’re utterly calm. You feel weightless. Your breathing evens out.

“Sit back up for me, pet,” you hear as if Feyd was a thousand leagues away. You blink and start to rise up on your forearms, stretching like a cat, rising up to sit on your haunches.

Feyd comes back into view, taking your chin in his hand. You don’t know what he’s seeing in your eyes; perhaps what you saw last night in his. He drops his hand from your face and extends them both to you in a silent offer to help you stand.

Once he has you up, he tips you, a hand behind your back, and you hardly realize what’s happening before he has you in his arms, carrying you to bed. He sets you down gentler than you expect before pulling the covers over you and climbing in with you. Smart idea; you hadn’t realized how cold you suddenly feel, shivering as Feyd gets under the covers with you, braces himself above you, and leans down for a kiss.

You kiss him back immediately, suddenly desperate. Up until this moment you’d felt almost like you were floating on a string, and now that string's been cut and you’re crashing to the ground. You gasp into it, clutching his back. You dig your nails in, your breath ragged, and after a moment Feyd pulls away, eyes darting across the different points of your face.

“You’re shaking, Y/N,” he says.

Yes, you are. A fresh batch of tears comes and spills down your cheeks and you don’t know why. If you didn’t know any better, Feyd looks almost concerned, an expression you’ve never seen on his face before that takes you a moment to place. Has he never reacted this way before? Never been affected quite this way before?

“Can you please hold me?” you finally manage, and he complies wordlessly, shifting to lay on his back, wrapping his arms around you. You don’t know what’s wrong with you, why you’re crying. You’re not sad, not angry. Just spent in a way that you’ve never felt before.

After a few minutes your breathing evens out again. The solid wall of the man holding you and the steadiness of his heartbeat against your ear helps. Feyd senses it and reaches for your collar.

“Let me keep it on for now,” you say, and Feyd stills his hand. “Please.”

Feyd looks for a moment like he wants to ask why, but doesn’t, instead keeping an arm wrapped around you as you nestle against him. You can’t explain it; right now you feel kept, like you’re something precious.

“Better?” he asks after a moment.

You nod against his chest. “But I wasn’t feeling bad before,” you manage, speaking slowly and trying not to slur your words. You doubt you have it in you to do all this over again, even if he asks, even if he manages to get you floating again. “It was just overwhelming for a second.”

“I know,” he says, and when your grip on him relaxes he shifts, moving to sit up, and you furrow your brow, wanting to follow him, nervous at the idea of being alone in this bed.

“I’ll be back,” he says. “I’m not leaving this room, pet,” he says, getting up. You notice that this time on the side table the water pitcher has two glasses and he fills both.

He notices your hands are still shaking and lifts the glass to your lips himself, watching as you gulp half the water down first, then take small sips of the rest, not setting it back down on the nightstand until it’s finished.

“When I first met you I’d never have taken you for such an affectionate little thing,” he says before taking a sip from his own glass.

“Neither would I,” you tell him. “Definitely not with you.”

Feyd smirks at that above the lip of his glass before setting it down next to yours and settling back in with you.

“I’m going to take the collar off you now,” he says.

“Okay,” you manage, fading, tilting your head to give him a better angle as he unfastens your collar and sets it on his nightstand. Not that you want him to get up and leave you alone in bed again, but you’re a little surprised that he doesn’t immediately and meticulously set everything back in his armoire. He’s not the type to leave things until the following morning. But he’s doing it now; he turns off the light and quietly turns you around so he can pull your back to his chest and slide one muscled thigh between your own.

You’re not sure what the name is for what you’re feeling, the way he shifts and wraps an arm around you and nuzzles his face into your hair. It’s a sinking feeling rather than the floating feeling you had earlier, but nice all the same. You start to drift off, the feeling of his heartbeat against your back, his breath slowing down, and just before you fall asleep you remember the word you’re looking for.

Peaceful .

The next morning you don’t wake up until you feel the absence of a solid form behind you and sit up to notice Feyd almost-fully dressed, putting on his boots.

He gives you a small smile when he senses you watching him.

“Excited for tonight?” you ask him.

Feyd’s smile fades as he stands. “It’s an obligation like the rest. We’ll make a good appearance for the guests, Uncle will get the confirmation he needs, and we can plan for tomorrow.”

“So is that a no?” you ask, sitting up against the headboard.

“I obey the Bene Gesserit’s instructions. I don't have to like them,” he says, voice flat.

You look down. He’s implied it before; you’d assume it’s because the Bene Gesserit tend to make powerful men nervous but there’s likely more to it.

His mother was Bene Gesserit. You’re not about to ask if she treated him like a son or a cog in her Sisterhood’s larger plans. Not this morning, perhaps not ever, you think as he watch him leave.

The entire Fortress is bustling, preparing for incoming visitors; not just the Bene Gesserit but Harkonnens living off-planet in colonies and fiefdoms as well as a few guests from other Houses. Your family will not be among them, but they’ve sent a gift–casks of some of your planet’s finest liquor, apparently.

Not that you blame them for not wanting to come to Geidi Prime, but it would be nice to see them, especially when you can feel the mounting pressure on you like a valve you wish you could release.

It’s both too soon and later than you realize when you have to change into a different dress that’s thankfully more modest than your gown for tomorrow, complete with long black gloves and a lace cloak meant to evoke the often-veiled and hooded style of the women you’ll be greeting.

Itkonen will be the first Harkonnen official to greet the Bene Gesserit after they receive their medication to help with the atmosphere, at which point you and Feyd will accept them and act as intermediaries before bringing them to the Baron. The Baron’s also reminded you and Feyd that they’ll examine you to make sure that you’ve secured an heir for the Harkonnen line, as if either of you could forget. As if that’s not the entire reason the two of you even met.

The anticipation builds as you and Feyd wait in the Reception Hall, you on his left and half a step behind him in deference. In front of both guests and other Harkonnens, you call Feyd exclusively by his title, because as far as Harkonnen politics are concerned, you may be his wife, but you are not his partner. You are his subject, and as such you will keep up the appearance of being his doting subject, his broodmare, his doll that dresses and presents herself as he chooses. You’ll live with it, and some part of you might even want to smirk at how the people won’t be privy to what you and him have developed. They won’t see how you’ve fucked him into an incoherent state, how worshipfully he licks your cunt, or how he likes holding you against his chest at night when you fall asleep, but the two of you will know better.

You’re also reasonably certain that these women, certainly the Reverend Mother Mohiam, will know better as well.

Itkonen steps in, inclines his head, and announces your Bene Gesserit guests. His dark eyes slide towards them as they enter, a hint of a derisive smirk on his thin lips that only you and Feyd see as he glances back at him. Duplicitous whores, the lot of them, aren’t they, boss? his eyes suggest.

All the women are veiled, most with their faces hidden. You incline your head in a slow, respectful curtsy. This is what you’ve been training for your entire life. You were made for this, you remind yourself as you then lift your head with a polite smile.

You only recognize the Reverend Mother Mohiam, but there’s another just behind her, one who’s quite beautiful with almost cat-like eyes and high cheekbones. You noticed her, though, not because she’s beautiful but because you could sense Feyd-Rautha just barely stiffen for a moment beside you as they entered the room, and when you glanced over at him saw a glimmer in his eyes that suggested uncomfortable recognition. If you hadn’t been so close to him you wouldn’t have noticed but it’s unmistakable.

They’ve met before , you realize, even as they don’t exchange a word of conversation and the woman doesn’t spare him so much as a second glance, her gaze on you.

Feyd seems to recover almost immediately as he greets the Reverend Mother. “We offer our fondest welcome to your Reverence and your Sisters on behalf of the Baron and Geidi Prime, and gratitude for making the trip here for the occasion.”

Reverend Mother Mohiam looks both unsurprised and unimpressed that the Baron himself couldn’t be bothered to get up from his throne but accepts the greeting with the same dignified coldness she’d shown you back on your planet. She looks over at you, taking inventory of your still-intact hair and eyebrows, and looks back at Feyd. “We appreciate your hospitality, Na-Baron Harkonnen,” she says.

You’d almost forgotten that Feyd does a decent job despite having a menacing presence at playing the part of statesman and representative. Not that he was ever quite able to fool you into thinking that he’s harmless–and he certainly doesn’t fool them–but he manages to keep the small-talk polite without being insipid as the two of them lead the conversation towards the Baron’s throne room.

The Baron stays seated in his suspensor chair, which whirrs forward as he nods his head in acknowledgement. “Welcome to Geidi Prime, your Reverence,” he says. “We do hope you and your Sisters enjoy the festivities during your stay. My gentle niece-in-law will be especially accommodating. She’ll be relieved for female companionship.”

Much as it makes you want to grind your teeth and glare at him to speak as though you aren’t there, he’s right about that. How he’d even know, you’re not sure. He’s certainly not asked you.

“Our services will take only a minute, but we appreciate the invitation to enjoy Feyd-Rautha’s birthday,” the Reverend Mother tells him.

“Forgive me for not knowing the exact details,” the Baron says, “but what process do you use to determine if young Y/N has secured the Harkonnen bloodline?”

“Nothing invasive, Baron,” the Reverend Mother replies. “Just a private meeting.”

“Well, then, you certainly have your opportunity now,” the Baron says, gesturing loosely towards you. “The people of Geidi Prime will be happy to know that my nephew has continued the Harkonnen bloodline.” He looks at Reverend Mother Mohiam expectantly, as if to say, alright, let’s get it over with. Show me if my nephew knocked up this Y/H whore or not .

She holds his gaze. “We’ll conduct the test privately, absent of any men,” she says.

The Baron blinks and looks at her as if to say, Are you dismissing me? Have you lost your mind? You can’t possibly expect me to wait outside , before beckoning a servant over.

“Show the Na-Baroness and our Bene Gesserit visitors to the next room, on the left. It should more than suffice for their needs,” he tells her.

It is; a sort of lounge area that tomorrow will be teeming with guests, you notice as you trail in. There are ample seating areas, tables that can and will hold down trays of food and drink. The lighting is even somewhat hospitable.

“May I ask,” you start as you’ve all filed in, “how you’ll be conducting the investigation, your Reverence?”

The Reverend Mother looks at you. “You seem healthy,” she says. She means, Feyd-Rautha’s been civil towards you?

“Thank you, your Reverence,” you tell her. “Geidi Prime requires an adjustment period, but I believe I've been able to find some decent footing here.”

The Reverend Mother looks a moment longer at you before speaking. “Have you met Lady Margot Fenring before?” she asks, extending her arm to the woman you couldn’t help but notice earlier.

“We have not met officially, your Reverence,” you say, looking over at her. Fenring . She must be the wife of Count Hasimir Fenring, then, even if she looks like she must be a good thirty years younger than him.

“Lady Fenring here is expecting as well, Na-Baroness Y/N,” the Reverend Mother says. “She has a certain talent for detecting pregnancy in other women before doctors even can.”

You glance at Lady Fenring’s stomach and don’t see a bump–a still-recent development, then. She sees where your gaze drops and explains, “I’m only two months along,” she tells you. “A daughter.”

“Congratulations, Lady Fenring,” you tell her, cautious, wishing you knew more about Bene Gesserit customs. Nothing invasive, they said, watching as Lady Fenring delicately pulls off the glove of her right hand and reaches for your stomach.

You take a small step back before you realize it, and Lady Fenring gives a coquettish little smile.

“ Don’t be afraid ,” she tells you, her voice pleasant and melodic, and she slowly places her ungloved hand on your lower abdomen. For a moment, your heart slows down, your limbs feeling heavy, and you’re not entirely sure if her words were spoken aloud or if you thought of them yourself.

The woman closes her eyes and you can’t help but stare, vulnerable at her gentle touch but unable to move. You feel lost, reminded of the early morning fog on your planet, before the sun starts rising. You close your eyes as well to try and snap out of it, but the same murky feeling persists where fear and dread had been.

Did she just…did she just use the Voice on me?

That can’t be right. The Voice is forceful, commanding, or so you’ve heard. Margot Fenring is anything but. You breathe in, breathe out, and wait, until she speaks again.

“Congratulations, Na-Baroness Y/N. Your union has proven fruitful.”

You open your eyes and gasp, unable to tame your reaction before it comes, unable to stop your smile and breathless, “ Really? ” You suddenly feel sharper, everything brighter, as Lady Fenring removes her hand and you move yours to where it had been.

“The life growing within you is new, the seed still very small, but it’s there, and it’s growing,” she tells you.

You can’t help but laugh a little, bringing a hand to cover your mouth as you do. You did it . How long has it been forming? A week? Two? Three? Is it smaller than an apple seed? Can this woman tell if it’s a boy like Feyd claims he dreamt of?

And then you think about the other man waiting for the news outside, probably more impatient for the results than your husband. Your smile fades and you drop both hands to your sides.

“Thank you, Lady Fenring,” you tell her. “The Na-Baron will be pleased.”

You need to help me keep the Baron away from it, keep him from c orrupting it. If you’re anywhere near as invested in keeping it safe as I am then …

This is why they’re here, you remind yourself. They need you and your progeny to be healthy. They’ll look after you.

You emerge with the Bene Gesserit sisters trailing behind you.

“We bear good news,” the Reverend Mother says. “The Na-Baroness is with child.”

Funny thing is that before all of this, before you thought you'd get married to a Harkonnen, you'd never had any expectations about how the moment would happen, when you would find out you were pregnant for the first time and told your husband. It hadn't been a situation you'd ever really entertained even as it was always inevitable. And yet this feels disappointing, not even being able to say it yourself, and having the news shared in front of your vile uncle-in-law as you try to seem demurely pleased and nothing else. You try not to make direct eye contact with Feyd. This isn't for either of you as individuals. It's for the Harkonnen bloodline, for the Baron, for the Bene Gesserit and their selective breeding program. So when it stings a little that Feyd 's only response is a nod in your direction as if to say, Well, done, you feel silly for it.

The Baron says, “We’ll wait until after Feyd’s birthday celebration to make the announcement; we don’t want to overshadow his match. Still,” he glances at you, “the people of Geidi Prime will be delighted to know that he’s continued the Harkonnen line.”

You lower your head. He truly has a gift for being able to suck the joy out of any celebration. The baby growing in your womb will have to share space with the gnawing twin feelings of disgust and dread settling in your stomach.

After that, though, the Baron makes it abundantly clear that his main purpose for inviting these women has been accomplished and foists the responsibilities of entertaining all but the Reverend Mother onto you.

“Mohiam will speak with you tomorrow, young Y/N,” he says to you. “But in the meantime, I’m sure there’s lots for you to discuss with our other distinguished guests.”

You curtsy and assure him that you’ll be an exemplary hostess in your most deferential tone before you and the other women are escorted back into the room you’d just been in; servants have already begun laying out plates of foods, various delicacies representing different Houses, goblets with pitchers of water, juices, and wine.

The veiled women wait until the food and drinks are set out and all the male servants have gone before they show their faces, lifting their veils to take the first sips and bites. Their ages range from possibly even younger than you to their seventies, all quiet at first.

Lady Fenring ranks above the rest of them both in title and within their ranks, it seems, as they defer to her and she’s the one who initiates conversation with you.

“It appears you’re adjusting well to Geidi Prime,” she says.

“Thank you, Lady Fenring,” you tell her. “It was an unfamiliar environment to which to adapt, but the Fortress has been accommodating.”

“We’re in casual company now, do feel free to call me Margot,” she tells you, and you blame it on the fact that you haven’t gotten to talk to any of your friends in over a month that you smile, feeling warmth flood your chest.

“Then feel free to call me Y/N,” you tell her.

“I was curious about your hair,” one of the Sisters says. “The fact that you still have it–was it your decision or your husband’s?”

“The Na-Baron informed me shortly before the wedding that I could keep my hair. It’s my preference as well, but I would’ve made a concession if it had been required,” you tell her. He only allowed the hair I have growing out of my head, though, you don’t add.

“About the hairlessness–is it a personal choice or are Harkonnens simply incapable of growing any?” she asks.

“They are while living here,” you tell her, knowing that everyone’s listening. “Geidi Prime’s bustling with industry but not organic life. I’ve heard that it’s only possible for Harkonnens to start growing hair if they live off-planet for long enough.”

“It is indeed,” Margot says. “The late Abulurd Rabban had not only a full head of hair but a beard when he died, but at that point he’d been living on Lankiveil for over twenty-five years. Have you ever seen a picture of him?”

“I have not,” you tell her. “His memory isn’t widely celebrated here, for obvious reasons.” You’ve never seen a picture of either of Feyd’s parents, but you’ve wondered what arrangement of features they each had that they could have produced such different-looking brothers as him and Rabban.

She looks at you a moment longer, as if contemplating what next line of questions she has for you.

“I’ve done a bit of research,” you say first. “The Harkonnens are of course better known for commerce and warfare but the library they have in the Fortress is very impressive.” You wonder how transparently you’re trying to play ambassador. You wonder how much it’s working.

When you all conclude your meal, and once all the plates are cleared, the other Sisters find conversation with each other, leaving you and Margot alone, and the thought gently scratching at the back of your mind becomes clearer; this friendly conversation is a soft interrogation. Margot will relay everything, your words and the tone with which you speak them, back to the Reverend Mother. Whether or not she is actually interested in your opinions is entirely beside the point, but even with this she certainly makes you feel that way. Her body language is demure but inviting, her questions polite but never overtly invasive as she asks you about your upbringing and your hobbies, how you spend time on your new planet.

You’ve never met someone who seems both serene and somehow unsettling in a way you cannot articulate but feels tangible. She has a certain poise you realize the longer the two of you sit in the same vicinity, that you just haven’t matured into yet. She’s older than you and Feyd, more complete than either of you.

She tilts her head at you at one point and says, “Forgive my questioning, but had you ever been courted or had an intimate relationship before your marriage?”

“A brief-lived courtship,” you tell her. “Nothing substantial ever came of it nor did I expect it to; neither of us had high hopes that my father would approve of him as a potential husband, and I suppose I’ve always been too practical to entertain the concept of a love-match.”

Margot blinks slowly, and her next words are as diplomatic and polite as anyone can manage with the subject you realize she’s about to breach. “I ask only because I’m sure you’ve heard some discouraging, perhaps intimidating rumors about Harkonnen men?”

Ah . There it is .

“I have,” you tell her. “But I’ve also heard for years about how the best way to temper a man is through catering to his desires,” you tell her. “Even without any substantial prior experience it didn’t take long to understand what my husband wanted and how to provide it for him.”

You don’t need to delve any deeper. She’s both Bene Gesserit and married; she’s known this for years before you did.

But there’s a part of you that wants her to know that you’re more observant than people may realize. There’s an even greater part of you that wants to know what caused Feyd to nearly flinch when he saw her when you’d never seen such a reaction from him before.

“May I ask how you first met the Na-Baron?” you ask, trying to keep your voice a mask of politeness and casual indifference.

She doesn’t look surprised at your question, which unnerves you further. “I was assigned to test him,” she says.

“On what?” you ask, fairly certain you know the answer.

“Whether or not he could play into our larger plans. What I found was interesting. Despite being a man with no Bene Gesserit training he possessed a level of prescience I’ve seen only in my Sisters.”

He dreamt about our son . You try not to let your nerves show.

“And then there was his pain tolerance,” she adds, cat-like eyes on you.

You keep a straight face as you wonder how she’d be familiar with it. Has she bitten him? Flogged him?

She keeps you waiting for only a second before continuing. “Have you heard of the Gom Jabbar?” she asks.

“I think so?” You weren’t sure if it was a real thing or a myth concocted to instill fear of disobeying the Bene Gesserit, but you’ve heard of a test meant to bring whoever takes it to the extremes of pain, and that many of those subjected to such a test did not live to pass it.

“He not only passed, but he lasted longer than anyone I’ve ever tested.” She meets your gaze as she says, “I’ve never seen anyone react to it quite like he did. He didn’t just endure it; he enjoyed it.”

Oh . Well, that would explain how they know each other, you think, trying to parse your own jumbled thoughts. That’s probably all she did; she has a husband, after all, and she was testing Feyd to see if he’d be a good match for you , not herself.

But despite yourself you imagine her riding him with slow, deliberate movements rather than the grinding, bouncing desperation that you had doing the same thing two nights ago. The image makes you inhale and glance away as you try to shake it from your mind.

Weeks ago the thought of him satiating himself with someone else would’ve been a relief. Now a shameful ball of jealousy blooms in your chest, and she can sense it. The Bene Gesserit aren’t truly omniscient, you know this, but she seems almost close to it. It’s embarrassing how transparent and vulnerable she makes you feel, like a child trying to keep pace with an adult who’s skilled at a game you’re still learning.

For her part she seems politely amused when you look away, feeling yourself flush. You won’t ask if she saw him in the arena and took to his bed. You don’t want to know if she indulged him in some of his darker fantasies or if she was able to coax him into a submissive state that took you a month to discover.

Focus on what she just told you, you remind yourself.

“You've seen it in him,” she says. It's not a question. Not from her, in any case, but the Reverend Mother will want to know, and it takes only a couple of seconds to cave.

“I have. Both his masochism and his prescience,” you admit. You won’t share any specific details, though; it’s too intimate to share with this woman, even as it feels as though she’s seeing you naked, like she can extrapolate your most personal moments with Feyd from a single glance.

Margot smiles. “Her Reverence will be most impressed with you.”

The evening concludes when it seems as though the Baron’s meeting with the Reverend Mother has, and servants come in to escort the Bene Gesserit to the guest suites.

As you all emerge you see Feyd, stone-faced, glancing between you and Margot as he notices the two of you walking alongside one another. You look over at her, who curtsies towards you.

“It was a pleasure speaking with you, Na-Baroness,” she says, undoubtedly aware of the attention the two of you are getting.

“You as well, Lady Fenring,” you tell her as you incline your head.

Feyd barely manages a curt nod in her direction before turning away, presenting his arm for you to take as you head back to the private residence wing.

You don’t say it; if you say it you won’t be able to take it back, feign ignorance. You don’t say a word on the walk back, and for a solid few minutes, neither does Feyd. He offers no recourse, and doesn't tell you what he, his uncle, the Reverend Mother, and Itkonen were all discussing over dinner and beyond it. His silence lasts just long enough to set you on edge, make you wonder if he’s upset about something.

“You did well tonight,” he finally says, as the two of you reach your quarters. “Uncle doesn’t care to entertain female company,” he adds, the closest thing to innuendo he’s suggested when it comes to the Baron, “so while he won’t say it, he was relieved to push them onto you.”

You smile. “Diplomacy is what I’ve been training for since I was a child,” you tell him. “I wasn’t prepared for the intimate parts of marriage, but I trained for the politics of it for most of my life.” Marriage is politics for a woman in my position . “Although I’d like to think I’m getting reasonably good at the intimate parts as well,” you say, leaning in, looking up at him as if to ask, Your room or mine tonight? You start to wrap your arms around his shoulders, thinking about how you’ll get to sleep more easily if he’s there, nestled behind you like he usually is.

Feyd doesn’t move, instead staying where he is, rigid and unyielding. “Not tonight,” he says.

You’re confused at first, pulling back, certain you misheard, but he’s completely serious. Hadn’t he talked about wanting to spill his seed in more places than just inside of you? How he’d wanted to continue fucking you even after confirmation of your pregnancy?

You drop your arms and take a step back. Did seeing Margot Fenring put him off? Is she the type of woman he’d prefer? Not a Bene Gesserit, he’s said as much, but a woman with more effortless poise? Or does he intend to find someone else tonight now that he doesn’t need to take you?

“I understand,” you say, trying not to let your hurt and indignation show. “We’ve done what was necessary to secure an heir and now there’s no need.” Not for another year at least .

Feyd looks amused for a moment, taking in your disappointment that he’s not going to bury himself inside of you like usual. It is sort of funny, in a sense. Weeks ago you would never have anticipated wanting his touch and feeling disappointed at not getting it.

“I abstain from indulging any kind of carnal desires the night before arena matches,” he says. “With others or with myself.”

Why? you want to ask, pretty sure the answer lies in something along the lines of discipline or wanting to save pent-up energy to put on a show for his audience.

“I’m pregnant ,” you say instead, more to yourself than to him. It’s almost incredible how shocked you are that the realistic outcome to the past month is finally here. Like being surprised that a seed you’ve planted and watered every day is starting to sprout.

His almost-smile turns as close to soft as you’ve ever seen on him. “How ‘bout that?” he says quietly, pressing the palm of his hand to your stomach. His touch is gentle, his eyes drifting to where his hand rests. For a moment you don’t think you’ve ever felt closer to him. For a moment you’re not concerned with politics, with the Baron, with your future, and you can insulate the two of you inside the warmth you feel blooming in your chest.

“Can I kiss you, at least?” you ask. He looks at you and nods, and you take your opportunity, cradling the side of his face and wrapping your other arm around his shoulder as you pull him to you.

He breaks the kiss first, but still rests his forehead against yours, his hands on your waist. You can’t resist giving him one last peck on the lips, needing to pull away because otherwise you’re going to keep holding on.

“Good night, husband,” you tell him, your voice thicker than you realized, feeling a rush within you.

You finally have allies here; you’ll be able to talk to the Reverend Mother, devise the best way to keep the Baron away from your children so that what happened to Feyd will never happen again.

You will find a way.

You wake up in the morning feeling resolute. It’s not the same quiet dread that you had on your wedding night, but the tension in the air still feels thick.

You won’t be seeing Feyd until it’s time to adorn him with war paint; you will dine separately, prepare separately, and once you have finished painting his body will sit in the stands waiting for his not-match. After that the people of Geidi Prime will shower him with their praise and adoration and the entire Fortress will celebrate the Na-Baron’s birthday. You’re not likely to have any real privacy with him today, certainly not until bedtime and even then you imagine it’s going to be a late night of entertaining well-wishers and keeping up appearances.

Your food is brought to your quarters, and you find you don’t have much of an appetite, between the snug fit of your dress’s bodice and the thudding feeling that starts in your ribcage and spreads downwards. Not just Idrisa but another attendant helps prepare you to look as anointed and pristine as you were on your wedding day.

You wear your hair down, save for two braids starting at your temple and connecting at the back of your head. It’s not defiance against the Harkonnens; they surely know that you look precisely how the Na-Baron wants you to.

Lips painted black aren’t any less common here than teeth dyed the same color, you think as you apply your cosmetics. In fact, when you apply it, you think about how your mouth resembles an inverse of your husband’s.

Your husband .

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is beloved by his own people, feared and despised by others. He’s a force of violence, a killer and stone-cold executioner. He’s a sadomasochist who comes from the most dysfunctional family you’ve ever seen and is set to lead the most bloodthirsty population in Landsraad. He’s also known you with such tangible intimacy that it’s sometimes overwhelming. He’s brought you to heights of pleasure you hadn’t thought possible. He’s the man whose child you’re carrying in your womb at this very moment, even if the whole of Geidi Prime doesn’t know yet.

You are going to go out and watch the arena match as the Na-Baroness, and as the bridge between his world and the rest of Landsraad, both of and separate from the Harkonnens.

You keep your head held high, the quiet clicking of your heels against the floor the only sound you make as you and Idrisa head for the chambers where your husband’s preparing to make his appearance.

At the entrance is another girl whose name you don’t know, and they flank you down a flight of stairs you’ve traversed only once, and two a set of double-doors guarded by two men in white who bow their heads, eyes downcast before opening the doors for you.

On the other side of the room a pair of young women wait, one of them holding a bowl and the other a pair of translucent gloves.

And there’s the man himself, stripped to ceremonial loincloth, watching you enter. His gaze sweeps up and down the length of your body, taking in the sight of your long, unadorned hair, painted-black lips, and every feature your gown shows off to almost exaggerated effect.

You stop for a moment and incline your head. “Happy birthday, Na-Baron,” you tell him.

“Come to give me my gift, then?” he asks, and a month ago you’d have thought his tone cold and mocking. Now it sounds as close to playful as he’s willing to get with other people present, especially as he’s still staring at you.

“Yes, Na-Baron,” you tell him, and glance to the side, at the raised platform jutting out of the wall. His Darlings are all curled up in a pile, lazily but contentedly watching the two of you. They’re wearing clothes this time, matching outfits.

“You dressed them for the occasion?” you ask Feyd.

“I had servants sedate, bathe, and dress them, but yes,” he says.

One has a stripe painted on her forehead; she seems to be the leader of the pack, moving first and the other two deferring to her, and she leans over as far as she can manage, nuzzling against your side

You inhale sharply, picturing her not for the first time taking a bite out of your lower abdomen with those black fangs.

Feyd can sense it. “They won’t hurt you,” he says. “They like you.”

I wish I could say the same about them , you think as she purrs–another feature no doubt installed by the Bene Tleilax.

“Do they smell it?” you ask. The baby?

“It wouldn’t surprise me if they did,” Feyd says,

I won’t allow them near the baby when it’s born , is a conversation for another place and time, when there aren’t other people around and you don’t have an imminent task. The girl holding the bowl steps forward, head bowed, to remind you why you’re here.

“Let’s prepare you, then,” you say, and Feyd gives you a small smile before turning his back to you.

Maybe when he first told you to paint him, he thought it would demean you, but it doesn’t. You doubt he feels that way anymore, either. He rolls his shoulders back briefly, and you watch the taut muscles ripple under his pale skin.

I was terrified of you the first time I saw you like this, you don’t tell him as you press your fingertips against him, but even then I thought you were impressive to look at. Maybe not a traditionally handsome man as far as I was concerned, but I liked seeing you in a loincloth back then, too.

One of the girls holds the bowl for you, and the other gives you a pair of gloves to keep you from staining your hands. You looked up the design–they change depending on the occasion and a birthday or other holiday requires its own set of strokes.

“Is this correct?” you ask, feeling pretty certain that it is.

“Yes, that’s right, Na-Baroness,” the girl holding the bowl says softly, hardly more than a whisper.

“Very good, Na-Baroness,” echoes the girl just beside her, waiting to take your gloves off for you once you’re finished.

Feyd’s silent as you work, turning his head briefly and giving you a view of his profile as he glances over his shoulder at you as if to speak, but ultimately remaining silent. You don’t have much to say, either, nothing that you want an audience for.

He’s going to kill people today; you assume prisoners of war, former soldiers who would put up a tough fight if the playing field were even. Instead they’ll be drugged before meeting your husband, their ruthless and efficient executioner. It’s not fair, it’s not good. It’s not something you can call yourself proud to be associated with, but it’s him. And you’re a part of his life, his legacy. A knot forms under your ribs as you finish with his back and focus on his chest and stomach. Does he share the combination of power and vulnerability you feel now, as he stays still for you to adorn his body with ceremonial paint? Is he looking forward to cutting down total strangers in front of thousands of cheering people? Because for all the discussion in the Fortress for it, Feyd seems less excited for it than everyone surrounding him. Does he quietly long for the thrill of a real fight? A challenge amongst everyone catering to his every desire?

You finish painting him and take a step back, allowing the girl next to you to pull your gloves off before she and her partner scurry to the side. For a moment it feels like there’s no one else in the room, and you think as you look at Feyd in his loincloth and ceremonial paint that he’s devastatingly beautiful.

“Thank you, Na-Baron,” you tell him.

His eyes look dark in these halls; it’s tough to find the blue of them. “For making me a part of this,” you add. “A part of your culture.”

He stares at you for a moment, expression inscrutable, before snapping the fingers of his right hand. Idrisa and the other girl hurry forward, hands clasped in front of them and eyes downcast.

He still looks at you. “Uncle will sit in his usual spot, that's his alone. He’ll have you sit in the private box with the Bene Gesserit Sisters. It’s a gesture meant to insult you, but don’t take the bait. Just keep being hospitable to our guests.”

“Yes, Na-Baron,” you say.

A figure enters; a fat man carrying a cushion laden with knives–the swordmaster. Feyd’s eyes flicker briefly towards him before turning back to you, and he gives a small nod. Dismissed .

For a moment you’re not entirely sure what to say. Good luck? It would be insulting to imply that he needs it. I can hardly wait? He knows that’s not true. In the end you say nothing, opting to curtsy before leaving, taking the same steps you’ve taken once before, ready to play your part as he plays his.

The slaughter awaits.

Tagged: @alexandrainlove @richardslady121 @blazeflays @wo-ming-bai @cavillandevanssandwhich

Also please lmk if you'd like to be tagged!

Our supporting players for this chapter:

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd x you #dune part two #feyd rautha smut #feyd smut #feyd rautha x reader #dune #dune 2

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amoreva · 2 months

Text

FEIGNING FOR YA

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

CHAPTER 3

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: easter with your family sucks and since when can Luke read you so easily

warnings: not proofread! slow burn, college au, smau, fake dating to dating, cursing, aged up! pjo charcters, parental expectations

a/n: guess who’s back from my hiatus! can you tell i used a crazy rich asians line. feedback is much appreciated after i took a long break

series list | next

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

You’ve said it once and you’ll say it again. Springtime is truly a lovely time of the year, especially late spring. It was a healthy reminder of the college year ending in a month and a half.

That, along with the flowers in full bloom and allergies at a minimum. Luke watched you enjoy the bright scenery racing by his car window. A sigh escaped his nose.

You were in your head. Luke could tell.

He would’ve said something to cheer you up, anything stupid really, but his car was already coming to a stop. The engine sputtered.

“You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” Luke gently placed a hand on your knee. The incessant tapping you produced stopped. You figured he was slightly irritated with your nerves.

Cars were lined down the street. You could hear people talking in the backyard. Easter was a big holiday. Though a bunny planting eggs in the yards of homes was an absurd caricature to choose. Where did the bunny get the surplus of eggs? Dollar Tree.

Luke listened to you (which really meant he listened to your Aunt Shelley). He traded in his wife beater and button up for a sage green button up. The colors matched your white dress with patterned green flowers.

Sure, you hated coming back home at times, but you wouldn’t use that as an excuse to not dress up for holidays.

“I know.” You spoke up finally and glanced at him. He could tell you didn’t take his words to heart.

“Believe me.” Luke emphasized with a squeeze of your knee. You nodded your head, internally thankful he decided to accompany you this Easter. “We’ll be okay.”

And it was okay, like Luke promised, at least it was.

“That’s the boy you’re dating?” Your parents had pulled you inside the house. Shock and disappointment written all over your mother’s face. The subtle action of wrinkling her nose told you how displeased she was with this.

The Easter party was outside in the backyard. Your younger relatives were playing outside, running around Luke, begging him to join their games. Music was playing and your aunts and uncles were joking around.

It was a complete contrast to the inside of the house. Your mother had still upheld the rule of that quiet, peaceful environment. The ticking of the grandfather clock paired with the hum of the AC echoed throughout the house. It was unnerving how foreign the sounds of your home had become.

“He is.” You swallowed your nerves and guilt to put on a mask of faux confidence. You switched from hugging your arms to crossing them. “He…he is sweet and kind and treats me right.”

“He is the one who turned you into some sleaze!” She accused and pointed her wrinkly finger at you. Your father grunted in agreement, staring you down. “Do you not care about your future?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you take a deep breath. You weren’t going to let your parents push you to be their “perfect little girl”. You dropped your hands to your sides and stared at your mom’s judging eyes.

All you’ve done is care about your future, your life. It was the constant studying, the constant tutoring kids who didn’t care. Just to make your college resume look like the perfect candidate for some top notch college. High school was so mundane and terrible and you tried to look on the bright side, tried to reason with your parents—your mom’s, decisions.

“I told you to get rid of those friends of yours and now you’re dating the bad influence. The fly!” Your mom reminded you harshly. Always your and your friends' fault for turning out a certain way. Always. “You never listen to me because of them—him!”

Luke was starting to become concerned with how long your parents were keeping you from festivities. Your little sister and cousins have asked him to lift them up with just his arms so many times.

They were getting impatient, waiting for the Easter Egg Hunt to start. The sky has even taken it’s cue to start going to bed (as your little sister called it)

“He is not a bad influence. He doesn’t smoke and rarely drinks.” You defended with a firm tone. “Luke and my friends are not going to ruin my future because I want to have fun.”

“It’s that mindset that’s going to get you homeless!” You left the conversation after that.

Judging stares and faux smiles were plastered on your older relatives as soon as you left the house, followed by your parents soon after. Aunt Shelley was a prominent figure, reveling in gossip and family drama.

Luke wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your temple. A silent act of reassurance, that he was here. You watched as your cousins and little sister ran around the large backyard, collecting the plastic little eggs.

“Look!” Your little sister presented a shiny pink plastic egg. She smiled, proud of her find. The sun was beginning to set. A range of oranges, pinks and yellows complimented the clouds and the horizons. The lights in the backyard blinked on.

“That’s really shiny. What’d you get?” You crouched down to your sister’s height, entertaining her ego.

She opened it with a small ‘pop’ and inside was money. “I’m a dollar and twenty-five cents rich!” She exclaimed with a happy smile. Your sister proudly showed off her reward to Luke.

Your sister was the only reason you came back home anymore,

It wasn’t until dinner was served that the whispers became prominent. Left and right as you sat and ate, you heard how different you were. How you back talked (back sassed in Aunt Shelley’ words) your parents. How disobedient and ignorant you’ve become and what they would’ve done in this situation.

“How could she talk back like that? My sister only cares for her future.”

“I would’ve made her do online school.”

“Mm, no bad influences. Smart man, Thomas.”

“When children are away from home too long, they forget who they are.”

God, couldn’t they just mind their business?

“Let’s just go.” Luke suggested smoothly. His voice is like caramelized honey amongst the sea of scratchy voices. It made your stomach churn because it was the best thing he could’ve said to you all night (totally)

At this point, Luke could read you like a book. Since the food came out, you’ve been in your head, thinking twice about this act of rebellion. Doubts seeding through your mind. He needed to pull you out.

And as much as you wanted to stay for your little sister, your need to get out of that backyard outweighed it.

The final stop of today’s lovely excursion was the local lake. The sandy banks were warmed by the fading sun. Luke was determined to cheer you up.

Though he wasn’t doing a good job. He left you at the lake alone.

It was a little bit before he showed up again with a flower bouquet, take out and his jacket. “What good fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t try to cheer you up?”

“You left me for twenty minutes.” You rolled your eyes. He sat down next to you and handed you the flowers. The appreciative smile betrayed your annoyance.

“Y’know, in a way, you did piss off your parents.” Luke nudged your shoulder, changing topic. You ran your fingers over the flower petals. “Like you wanted.”

And that was what you wanted. To get back at your parents, to piss them off, for how judgmental and controlling they’ve been of your life. So shouldn’t it feel good?

Luke kept staring at you, taking in how resigned you looked. Your mouth turned downwards whilst your eyes hid how upset you were at the comments.

“Thank you.” You finally spoke up and placed the flowers in your lap. “I think…we don’t have to continue this anymore.”

You spoke with much thought put into this. The whole goal was to piss off your parents. Why did you need to fake date when you already did that?

“Don’t be stupid, sweetheart.” Luke rolled his eyes and opened up the Chinese food he bought. “I’m still in it for the trip.”

You snorted. Of course he was. “Besides, you haven’t even touched the surface of rebellion. You feel unsatisfied because you planned this.” He made his point by gesturing with his chopsticks.

“You’re not supposed to care about what other people think of you or your actions.” Luke shoveled some Kung Pao Chicken in his mouth. He talked like he was an expert on this. He was, but only to his dad.

“So what now?” What a failure this was.

“I help you experience your new freedom with rebelling.” Luke smirked and offered you some food. “C’mon sweetheart, the least you could do is indulge in my ways.”

“Okay, Master Yoda.” You laughed and took a piece of his chicken. The sky had fully darkened and the stars blinked in the night sky.

“No, no! I’m Anakin! Come to the dark side.”Luke and you look out at the stars and constellations. You lean your head against his shoulder.

“Fine.” You mumbled. “I’ll join the dark side.”

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

taglist:

@happy-mushrooms @m00ng4z3r @justanotherkpopstanlol @2hiigh2cry @celluifleur @yuminako @pookiebear16 @mxtokko @cxcillia @kai-islost @kidkrowk @iluvpjo @sofiacblair @cherryynovaa @dracoslovergirl @lalloronaisreal @jennapancake @urbanflorals @sweetstime @cherr-y-eji @thatbird-fromrio @itzlilywelch @annispamz

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan pjo #pjo series #luke castellan imagine #percy series #luke castellan fluff #feigning for ya

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indiaalphawhiskey · 1 year

Text

Just some thoughts.

“There’s only so high you can go. At some point you’re not gonna make that expectation. Going out on a high and now feeling like I’m starting a fresh, came to terms with the fact that, that was so great and if I never get to do that on that level again, that’s okay.”

— Harry Styles, Behind the Album

Ever since Harry’s started saying his goodbyes on stage, this quote as been echoing in my head. All the variations of how he’s been saying thank you, and I’ll miss you, and talking about his break; it’s an unpopular opinion, but none of them ever really strike me as some big, final “goodbye” in the strictest sense. Rather, it feels like he’s thanking this era, giving it it’s time in the sun and reveling in what he has whilst he has it, before giving it a proper send off and putting it to bed.

The Fine Line and Harry’s House eras have meant an unprecedented skyrocket in his profile, and for a person who thought One Direction would be the pinnacle of his time in music, to find out it wasn’t, is a lot. A lot of joy, a lot of pride, but also a lot of pressure.

It’s safe to say this is the most popular and most successful he’s ever been, and I’m sure it’s incredibly reminiscent of where he was and how he felt when the band went on hiatus, which can easily bring about those same anxieties of “Well, what happens next?”

I think the reason he’s using this certain language to say his goodbyes is, in my opinion, not because he’s leaving and never coming back. It reads more like he’s giving himself the room to acknowledge that this chapter of his career (just like the last) was so beautiful, so memorable, such a high, in order to come to terms with the fact that if it’s never like this again — if it turns out he comes back and is met with (much) less success, or popularity, or love — it’ll be okay.

It seems like this is a lesson he’s taken with him from going solo: that natural breaks in your career shouldn’t be spent worrying about what comes next, that the goal of each phase of your career isn’t to “top” the last, because what that leads to is working from a place of fear. (Which he’s said he doesn’t want to do anymore.)

And so, I think, by saying a proper goodbye to this chapter, he’s releasing himself of the pressure to “top” it. He’s honoring this moment, this peak, for what it is, and by doing that, he’s also allowing himself and his art not to be defined entirely by these eras and this level of success. Releasing himself of that pressure, allowing himself to acknowledge that a long career means highs and lows and ebbs and flows, allowing himself to be “less than” who he is now in the future, is what’s going to make making music for his next era fun and personal, and maybe, in turn, end up making him a bigger and better artist than what he’s leaving behind. Or not.

The point is, either way, he’ll be okay, and happy, and healthy. And most importantly, peak of his career or not, everything that comes after will still be entirely Harry. 🩵

#iaw thoughts #Harry’s goodbye #Harry’s House era

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hischierswhore · 22 days

Text

FOR THE BETTER | chapter 1

✰ warnings: cursing, mentions of cheating, mentions of violence, if i missed anything please please please let me know

✰ nat’s note: hellooo everyone! i’m finally back after a bit of a hiatus, and i finally have motivation to write again! i hope to stay consistent with this series. if you have any suggestions as to what you’d like to see in this AU, send it to my inbox!

✰ masterlist

y/n.hughes ~ january 25th

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras & 157,826 others

y/n.hughes z took me to disneyland today 🤩

view all 14,937 comments

jackhughes 3 different outfits for what purpose

↳ y/n.hughes for pictures, duh

user4 the third pic 😭😭😭

colecaufield and i wasn’t invited? 😔💔

↳ y/n.hughes next time i’ll bring you i promise

↳ colecaufield you better

user2 living for the outfit changes

trevorzegras ❤️

user3 girlie when are we getting new music?? i have been deprived

january 30th

Betrayed. That's exactly what you felt as you scrolled through the messages between your boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend. The conversation was a thread of addresses, heart emojis, and plenty of pictures. Oh, how you wished you hadn't scrolled.

You were just supposed to text yourself a picture that he took of you from his phone while he was in the shower. You scrolled through his messages app, trying to find your contact when you stumbled across one with the name "D ❤️". You thought it was a bit weird so you clicked on the message, ultimately regretting your decision.

You felt the tears well in your eyes, your vision suddenly becoming blurry as you heard the bathroom door open. You refused to make eye contact with the man you loved, choosing to stare at the ground instead.

"Y/n? What's wrong?" Trevor asked as he ruffled the towel through his damp hair. When you didn't respond, he grabbed your arm in hopes of getting your attention.

"Earth to Y/n?" He waved his hand in front of your face, thinking that you were just lost in thought.

"How long?" You looked up at him, tears slowly beginning to trickle down your face.

"How long what? What are you talking about?" He visibly appeared confused.

"Don't act stupid, Trevor. How long have you been texting Dixie?" Those were the last words he expected to hear come from your mouth.

"I'm not-" He tried to speak before you interrupted him.

"Don't even lie. I saw the messages. Now answer my question: how long?"

"5 months..." He was the one to look down now, ashamed.

"So... you've been cheating on me for the majority of our relationship? So for 5 out of the 8 months we were together you were also with Dixie?"

"Yeah..."

"Why? Why keep me around if you were sneaking around with someone else? Do you understand how disgusting that makes me feel? Hell, you don't even seem like you're sorry!"

"I am sorry, I just don't know what to say"

"There's nothing to say anymore, Trevor! When we first got together, you knew damn well that there was nothing I hated more than a liar & a cheater, and you turned out to be both, so congratulations to you for losing the one person you could rely on" You yelled as you stood up from the bed, the thought of being in the same room as him disgusted you, nonetheless on the same bed as him.

"Where are you going?" Trevor followed you throughout his apartment, watching as you grabbed your suitcase and your keys.

"I'm leaving, I'm done. I can't be with someone who doesn't respect me. Have a great life with Dixie. Wishing you both the worst"

And with that, you walked out of Trevor's apartment and his life. The downside to this decision? You had nowhere to go; you weren't from California. You were visiting Trevor for 2 weeks, and unfortunately, your trip was cut short due to your now ex-boyfriend's choices.

Not knowing what to do, you called Quinn, hoping he would know what to do.

"Y/n? It's 9:30 pm on a Friday, and you're in Cali. Is everything okay?" Quinn spoke through the phone.

"Quinn me and Trevor just broke up and I'm in the middle of LA and I don't have anywhere to go and I don't know what to do" You rambled to your older brother, hoping he could help you out.

"Woah woah woah calm down. Take a deep breath. For starters, call an Uber to LAX. I'll book you the first flight out of there to New Jersey. Secondly, what happened?"

"I found out Trevor was cheating on me for 5 months with Dixie" You whispered, almost as if you were afraid to say it louder. You heard a commotion on the other end of the phone.

"I'll fucking beat his ass next time I see him. Whether it be on the ice or off" You could tell Quinn was seething on the other end of the line simply based on his tone.

"I'll be okay, Q. I just want to be home" Tears started falling once again.

"You'll be there soon, I promise. Just go to LAX, get on the flight and I'll tell Jack & Luke to pick you up. I'll come visit as soon as I possibly can, okay? I love you, Y/n/n" Poor Quinn's heart ached for you. He knew you'd need all the love & support you could get, seeing as this was your first serious relationship and unfortunately, your first major heartbreak.

"Love you too, Q. I'll see you soon, thank you" You wiped the tears from your eyes as you called an Uber to the airport.

february 1st

2 days had passed since you & Trevor broke up. You were completely isolated from everyone within those 2 days. The only times you came out of your room were to eat and go to the bathroom. You didn't want to tell your brothers what had happened because both of them were close with your now ex-boyfriend. You knew you'd end up having to tell them because Quinn was on his way and you knew it would truly suck if he told them before you did.

About 30 minutes later, Quinn arrived and settled himself into the guest bedroom. Jack & Luke knew he was coming, but the reason being unknown. It was now or never, you thought to yourself. You inhaled as you exitted your room and made your way to the living room where your 3 brothers were sitting. They appeared to be mid-conversation when you walked in, all 3 of them immediately directing their attention to you.

You sat on one of the single-seater couches, trying hard not to have a full breakdown infront of your brothers.

"I think it's best we address the elephant in the room" You started, looking up to see all 3 of the boys nodding their heads in agreement.

"I wasn't supposed to be back from Cali for another week or so, but my trip got cut short, and I don't think I'll be going back anytime soon" You watched as Jack & Luke's eyebrows scrunched and they tilted their heads; you could see the gears trying to turn in their heads.

"But Trevor?" Luke managed to get out, still not fully comprehending what you were saying. You sighed heavily.

"There's no more Trevor. I uhm- I found out he was cheating on me with his ex..." You fiddled with your fingers, trying to avoid eye contact with them.

"What?" Jack was shocked. He couldn't process what was being said right now.

"How'd you find out? You don't have to say if you don't want to" Quinn asked, already knowing the basics but not the details.

"It's alright. He told me to go on his phone and send myself the pictures he took of me earlier in the day. I looked through his messages trying to find my name and I saw one that looked odd so I clicked on it. I saw more than I would have liked. He admitted to cheating for 5 out of the 8 months we were together" You watched as Quinn got up from his spot and came over to give you a big hug, one you desperately needed.

Jack and Luke both sat in silence, mouths agape as they tried to take it in.

"Y/n/n, we're so sorry" Both boys said in unison as they too joined in the hug.

"I'll be okay eventually. It just really sucks. But I promise I'll be fine" You reassured the boys, holding onto them tighter before letting them go back to their original seats.

"So what've you been doing since you got back?" Quinn asked, trying to start a semi-normal conversation.

"Writing. Lots of writing. Decided to scrap the original songs I had planned for the album and started fresh. Got 3 songs written so far, just gotta record"

"That's good. Are they bangers or like super depressing songs?” Luke piped in.

“So far it’s a mix. One is kind of a ballad and the other 2 are more upbeat” You shrugged. Jack sat in his spot, still in shock.

“You okay, Rowdy?” You checked in on your older brother, bringing him back to reality.

“Oh yeah, I’m good. I’m still just trying to process that Z would do that, especially to you of all people”

“Just know that all 3 of us will be fighting him both on & off the ice. We do not care” Quinn added, hoping to get a laugh out of you, which he did successfully.

“Well thanks guys. I really appreciate it. I’ll try to not be so mopey anymore, I promise”

“As long as you let us go with you to the studio!” Luke loved going with you to the studio. He thought it was the coolest thing ever.

“Why not? All 3 of you can come with me”

✰ taglist: @lovelynikol16

✰ nat’s note: if you’d like to be added to the taglist, send a reply & i’ll add you on :)

#✎ natalie writes #hughes!sister #hughes!reader #trevor zegras angst #jack hughes fluff #quinn hughes fluff #luke hughes fluff #jack hughes angst #luke hughes angst #quinn hughes angst #nico hischier angst #nico hischier fluff

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seabirdtxt · 9 months

Text

.Irminsul stash --Traveler_Inventory

You and Scaramouche head over to ask the Traveler for some groceries [< prev] [Blog tag] [next >]

Notes: SAGAU without cult shenanigans, mostly filler chapter. sorry for the long hiatus!

WC. 1.5k

----- ⚘ -----

As much as you enjoyed spending your time running around Teyvat in-game, nothing quite prepares you for how vast it actually is.

Of course you’ve known that, logically speaking, it’s impossible to correctly scale an entire city using a limitation such as video game engines. You are still knocked completely off your feet at the sight of the sprawling verdant domes and alabaster walkways of Sumeru City.

You jog down from the Sanctuary doors and lean over the railing, eyes tracing the knotted branches of the Great Tree where they mesh flawlessly with the infrastructure of the city. The scale of things is easily dozens of times bigger than what is shown in-game, and despite the beautiful graphics it has, the game definitely cannot do justice to the sheer variety of buildings and people that make up Sumeru City. Unable to help yourself, you make wordless noises of awe as you take in the scenery.

“You’d think you’ve never seen a city before,” Scaramouche’s deadpan voice states from a few paces behind you, where he’s lazily following you down the ramp. You turn and face him, taking note of how he’d removed the colourful belts, ropes, and other identifying markers of his outfit, leaving only his bodysuit and black jinbei. He looks deeply annoyed by this state of undress, so you wisely choose not to mention it.

“I mean, I’ve never seen it like this before,” you agree, gesturing to the skyline with a wide sweep of your arm. “Like, I’ve seen some of it from a certain, uh, distance? But seeing it in person… Wow. Just doesn't compare.”

Scaramouche says nothing as he finally comes to a stop beside you, arms crossed as he surveys the view. After a few seconds he snorts derisively. “Looks the same as it always does, to me.” He scoffs. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

You let him drag you down the rest of the ramps until you both meet the pale bricks of the main road. You follow him as he leads you, presumably, to wherever the Traveler is staying. Your eyes wander aimlessly, taking in the sights.

Something tugs at the gem of your shirt and you stop walking, surprised. When you look down, you see a small child with dirt stains on their hands and knees, and a streak of dirt across their face. The child beams up at you, holding out their closed fist and shaking it at you.

“Oh, hello. What’s up?” You ask, crouching down beside them. You hear a noise of disgust from Scaramouche, which you wave off in favor of giving the child a smile. “Anything I can help you with, buddy?”

The child shakes their fist again and you finally get the message. You present your own open hand, palm upturned, and the child drops whatever they’re holding into it. They scamper off quickly before you can say anything, so instead you peer at the tiny object in your hand.

It’s a small stone, with a very simplified carving on it. It appears to be some writing, and an angular leaf shape. The marks are gibberish to you, but surely it has significance of some kind, so you pocket it and stand back up. You give Scaramouche an apologetic grin, to which he simply rolls his eyes and continues on.

The walk is, understandably, much longer physically than it is in-game, and you find yourself a little winded by the time you’re anywhere near the Grand Bazaar. You do eventually get to a building that you (very, very vaguely) recognize as the inn the Traveler and Paimon stayed at during the Sabzeruz Festival arc, and you huff a sigh of relief that the long stroll is finally over. Before you can even approach or knock, you’re bowled over by a flying white mess of limbs.

“Creator! You’re here!” Paimon squeals in your ear as she tackles you to the best of her ability, and you wince as she excitedly hugs whatever part of you she can reach. “I’m so glad that stupid mean puppet didn't kill you yet!”

Scaramouche makes an offended noise at that last remark and flips Paimon the bird.

“Yeah, here I am!” You laugh after untangling her from around your head and pat her head as the Traveler joins her, looking a little worse for wear. Their outfit is a little stained in places, and bears some signs of scorch marks at the edges.

“Good timing, we just got back from our morning commissions,” they say with a wave. “I didn’t think you’d be out and about so soon, is there anything you need help with?”

“We want your ingredients supplies.” Scaramouche blurts out, interrupting any of your attempts to phrase it in a nicer way.

“All of them?!” Paimon gasps, absolutely devastated. You quickly step in before Scara can say anything else.

“No no! Just a little bit,” you reassure the sprite, then address the rest of your request to the Traveler with an affable shrug. “If you have anything to spare we’d really appreciate it. We don’t exactly have a lot of food in my teapot yet. Or, uhh… Any food, at all.”

“Oh!” The traveler smacks their forehead with the heel of their palm. “I didn’t think of that, Your Grace, I’m so sorry!”

“You really don’t have to call me that,” You laugh awkwardly at the title and volume at which the Traveler said it, conscious of the curious glances your little group has attracted. All around you you begin to hear indistinct murmuring, and you frantically hope they’re not talking about you. “And, uh, don’t worry about it! It’s a bit short notice, I get it.”

“As long as you leave some for us, it’s no problem!” Paimon says as she recovers from her shock. The Traveler turns to her with a sly grin.

“As long as they leave some for you, you mean?” They tease, to which Paimon splutters in protest. The Traveler gently pokes her cheek while she throws her tantrum.

“Can we take this inside?” Scaramouche asks waspishly, stopping the pair’s bickering for a moment. “Or literally anywhere else? Maybe you two enjoy being ogled like zoo animals, but I personally don’t appreciate being eyed up by the unwashed masses.”

“How rude! You haven’t learned a single thing, have you?!” Paimon scolds, turning her wrath on the harbinger.

“Actually, I agree,” you give a halting laugh as you step closer to the building. More and more eyes are turning toward you. You give the crowd an awkward wave, and suddenly the murmurs turn into a clamor as people begin to understand your identity.

“Oh, whoops,” the Traveler says, grabbing both your hand and Scaramouche’s bicep. Paimon quickly gets the idea and grabs onto the sleeve of their outfit. “Time to go!”

-----

You spiral back into existence high above the streets of Sumeru, close to the Akademia front doors, having been forcefully teleported as a group with the Traveler. They set you down gently, while simultaneously dropping Scaramouche like a sack of potatoes.

“Ow! Hey, watch it!”

“Are you alright, Your Grace?”

Three pairs of eyes watch as you dust yourself off and give a cheerful thumbs up. “All good!” You announce. “Let’s talk groceries, shall we?”

In the end, the Traveler decides to give you and Scaramouche three bags of dry products—things like fruits and veggies, rice, sugar, coffee beans, and cured meat—and promises to stop by your teapot sometime later in the week to deliver cold foods and more fresh produce.

“I’m sure some of this probably isn’t what you’re used to in your world,” the Traveler says apologetically, giving you a wry smile. “If you have any questions about it, I’m sure you can ask Wanderer. He’s been enrolled in some cooking classes for the past few semesters, so he’ll know what he’s doing.”

“Hah! As if.” Scaramouche snatches the last bag of groceries out of their hands with a sneer. “That weakling is going to be out running errands for Buer’s every whim. Do you really expect him to be around long enough to cook adequately? I’ll handle this.”

The Traveler only raises a single eyebrow at the declaration, then shrugs. “Suit yourself,” they chuckle. “Just don’t poison the Creator, I guess.”

“Can the Creator even get sick?” Paimon asks, hovering around you and inspecting you closely enough to make you ticklish. “I’m not sure gods are supposed to be able to get sick, you know!”

“Well, we don’t want to find out!”

“It’s fine, a little food poisoning won’t kill me,” you reassure the three of them, knowing you’ll be having a rough go at it for the foreseeable future given what you know about Scaramouche’s current cooking skills.

“So, what? None of you have any faith in me?” Scaramouche frowns and crosses his arms as best as he can around his grocery bags.

The response comes from the three of you at the same time.

“No.”

#genshin sagau #genshin isekai #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware au #sagau x reader #genshin scaramouche #sagau scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #seabird.txt #glitch in irminsul au

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enthusiasticharry · 2 months

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𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 12.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: after a way too long hiatus from this fic, i'm happy to tell you all that regret me is back!! the fic master post is linked ahead if you fancy a re-read or a first-time read, it's there for you! it's been lovely dropping back into this world again and i would love to hear all of your thoughts and opinions so pls come and chat to me about it!! next chapter should be out within a month or so, and it will be the last chapter of regret me!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, talks of drug/ alcohol use, mentions of addiction recovery, sexual content, mentions of cheating and a stupid little boy who doesn't know how amazing he has it.

𝐩𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟓 here

Los Angeles, Spring 1975

“Are you sure you can’t come now?” Harry mumbles against YN’s lips, “I can squeeze you into my suitcase.”

YN laughed, pressing another kiss to Harry’s lips, “I can’t come now, you know that. I’ve got rehearsals for the next three weeks and then I’m coming.”

Harry groans and drops his head down to her neck, littering kisses to her skin as he squeezes her. He had been like this for the past week, ever since the seven-day countdown started. YN loved how much Harry loved her and wanted to be with her, but he was also aware that she needed to stay back in Los Angeles for a little while for rehearsals for her own tour that was starting in a month or so. Before she did kick off her tour though, she would fly out and spend a few days with Harry on his, so at least they had that to look forward to. Harry understood that this was necessary for both of them, but that wasn’t going to stop him from missing her, nor would YN stop missing him.

Harry would be busy on his tour, one which has broken records with ticket sales that YN didn’t know could exist and she was so proud of him. She would be busy with rehearsals, and sorting out everything for her tour and she would be okay. At this point, they had spent so much time together that YN thought Harry would be happy to have a break from her, but it seemed as though it was the complete opposite. She hoped spending a week together before they were both thrown into their tours at full force would at least make the rest of their time apart slightly easier.

“I know, I know,” He mumbles into her neck, finally pulling his head away so that she can look at him again, “I’m going to miss you so much, baby.”

“I’m going to miss you too, you know that,” YN mumbles against his lips, “But it’s only going to be for three weeks and then I’ll be with you.”

YN placed another kiss on his lips, running her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck one last time to make up for the lack of it for the next few weeks. She was going to miss him more than anything. Whilst YN was ready for the time apart and had prepared, she knew that it was going to be different with her support system gone. She had a different support system to focus on now – and that was her music.

“Harry, it’s time,” It was Jeff that called his name from behind her, and Harry groaned immediately.

Harry dropped his head to her shoulder again, and she wrapped his arms around his broad shoulders and pulled him even closer to her if that was possible. There wasn’t even an inch of space between them at this point.

“I love you so much,” YN mumbled against his neck, feeling as though she wanted to cry but she wasn’t going to let herself.

“I love you too,” He pulled back and placed one more kiss on her lips, “I’ll see you soon.”

“You will,” She smiles, prying his arms off her one last time, “Now go, before Jeff has both of our heads."

Harry pouts but listens to her, placing another final kiss on her cheek before making his way towards the bus. YN turned so that she could watch the bus drive away. Harry sat down next to Jeff, a pout on his lips as he did so. YN just beamed a smile at him and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes not leaving his.

As the bus started and drove away, YN waved and blew Harry kisses until the bus had turned out of the parking lot, and she could no longer see it.

There wasn’t time for YN to be sad though, as she had to leave to get to a meeting with Leroy about her tour, and then go and meet her new band in the afternoon and begin to rehearse for the tour. These were how her days looked for the foreseeable future, full of different things to do and not a single second in the day to think about anything else.

The drive to Leroy’s was quick, and YN spent the entire time in silence. In her head, she was going over potential setlists for her tour, and also potential outfits that she could wear (all centred around her cowboy boots of course) and also what she was going to make herself for dinner (food was a priority after all).

With all of those thoughts swirling around her head, and not a single one of Harry pushing to the surface, she had managed to drive to Leroy’s office without a single worry in her head. She was a little early, but that was better than being late, so she packed up her bag and made her way inside.

Throwing a smile to Agatha on the desk, she made her way towards the elevator and up to Leroy’s office. The last time she came here for a meeting, she was late because she was throwing back pills in the bathroom. Now, her mind was clear, and she was in control of herself, and it felt good.

YN may be sober now, but she was still the same badass. Therefore, when YN made it to Leroy’s office she didn’t knock and instead, she just walked in. Leroy was on the phone, and his eyes widened when he saw YN making her way into the room and sitting down across from him.

“I’ll, uh, have to go,” Leroy mutters into the receiver, “My next meeting is here… yeah, I love you. See you tonight.”

YN smiles, crossing one of her legs over the other, “Wife, or mistress?”

“Wife, not that it’s any of your business,” Leroy sighs, another look of shock waving over his face again, “You’re actually on time.”

YN shrugged, “That I am.”

“Who knew that getting you sober was the one thing that would get you on time?” Leroy says with a smile, but YN’s face doesn’t move.

YN was sober, she was. She had fallen a few months ago, but that was the first and last drink that she had. It was. She regretted it immediately and threw the rest of the bottle away. That was when she decided that she wasn’t that person anymore and that when she needed something to lean on, she would lean on her friends her music, and Harry.

That didn’t mean that she didn’t feel guilty about it because she did. She had been sitting on that secret since it happened, but there was no way that she was going to tell any of them about it. She was doing fine right now; she was honestly and truthfully doing fine.

“That’s not the only thing that getting me sober has fixed,” YN shrugged, messing with the hem of her skirt.

“I can see that,” He smiles at her, “You look good, you do.”

“Thank you, Leroy, I appreciate that,” She glares at him with a bashful smile across her features, “Now as much as I love talking about me, I think it’s time that we spoke about my next favourite topic – my tour!”

Leroy sighs and shakes his head. If last time was anything to go by, especially because she had given him a list of demands when she was only the opener, he dreaded to think what she was going to ask him for now that it was her tour.

“Well, how about I tell you what we have so far and then you can say your piece,” Kenneth explains and YN nods, knowing that was probably for the best, “So far, we’ve got the staging ready, booked the opener, booked the venues and the hotels for the nights that you aren’t travelling. We’ve got the bus and all the travel sorted.”

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” YN smiles, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

“Well, whilst you’ve been MIA we’ve had time,” Leroy explains, “Ticket sales have been good, great even. Rolling Stones did you good.”

YN sighs, shaking her head. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about the article, not since it came out and especially not since what it caused. She has, however, allowed herself to celebrate Harry’s cover, and article, because that was everything that he needed to kickstart his climb within the industry.

“Yeah, well, everybody seemingly wants to see the recovering addict perform,” YN sighed, shaking her head, “And what’s that thing you always say – any publicity is good publicity?”

“In this case, yeah,” He nods, “If it wasn’t for that article, your ticket sales would be good we all know that but nothing like what they are now.”

YN sighs and nods, “I guess I’ll thank journalist dickhead when I see him next.”

“Don’t worry, if we have control of anything you’ll never have to see that man again.”

“Good, now, my ideas,” She smiles, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the desk, “So, I want separate buses. If the last tour was anything to go by, the band and groupies will want to party, and I don’t want to be anywhere near that. I also want a separate green room. I don’t want to be involved in any of that. I can’t be involved in any of that.”

“I’ll see what I can do, YN,” Leroy nods, sincerity in his voice.

“No, it’s not you ‘seeing’ what you can do, you’ll do it,” She taps her nail on the desk, “I can’t be involved in any of that. I’ve been on the straight and narrow, and I need to stay that way.”

Leroy nods and runs a hand over his face, “Two buses, two green rooms. They’re yours.”

“Good, thank you,” She does give him an appreciative smile now, “I’ve sorted the set list, I did it on the drive over, so I’ll discuss that with the band, I’ve got my costumes in the majority I’ll just need someone to go and pick them up for me.”

“I’ll talk to Agatha,” Leroy nods, “She’ll send someone for you.”

YN nods. Yes, Leroy could be a dickhead sometimes but that was his job. It was times like this when she remembered why he was her manager because underneath that façade of being an absolute prick, he had a good heart, and he did care. If he didn’t care about her, he wouldn’t be spending the agency’s money on things that aren’t a necessity.

“You know, you’re a real sweetheart sometimes.”

“And you’re less of a bitch when you’re not on drugs.”

They share a laugh, and for the first time in a while, she thinks that everything might be okay again.

“The chord progression goes up,” YN sighs, lifting her hand to her forehead, “I don’t know if you know it but you’re going down.”

“It’s just easier that way,” Jackson, YN’s new bassist replies with a shrug as they stand in the middle of the rehearsal room, “It’s easier to go down than it is up, thought you wouldn’t mind that.”

“I do mind that, actually, yeah,” YN nods, crossing her hands over her chest before sighing, “Because it’s my song, and I wrote the progression going up.”

They had been rehearsing for the shows for a week now. YN had been getting to know all of the new members of the band and whilst some, like the pianist Pepper and the drummer Fiona, just got on with the job and listened to what YN had to say, some like the bassist Jackson and the guitarist Felix (who just had to know each other and were friends) wanted to make their lives easy and by doing this in part were not listening to YN.

“Yeah, we know you’ve written all these songs and you want them played a certain way,” Felix sighs, resting his arms across his guitar, “But we’ll be playing them over and over and for our sake, shouldn’t we simplify them slightly?”

“No, we shouldn’t,” YN shakes her head, her gaze fixed firmly on the two friends who were standing there with smug-ass grins on their faces, “We shouldn’t simplify them because if you learnt the songs right, you’d be able to play them over and over again because you’d know them, the right way.”

YN knew that after her conversation with Leroy had gone so well nearly a week ago there was going to be something that would turn it on its head and make life hard for her. Her band, or seemingly half of it, was that. They were just young, stubborn musicians who wanted to be playing for themselves and not for some random girl who was a perfectionist and made them work.

“This is the seventh song we’ve done and they’re all fucking different with their chord progressions, and riffs,” Jackson was the next one to speak up and YN was so close to either socking him in the face or kicking him out of the band.

“Well, who are you? Captain fucking obvious because that’s how songs go, they’re not the same,” YN throws her hands up in the air, taking a heated step towards him, “You are getting paid to play my songs how I want them to be played, and if you, both, have any more complaints then you can fuck right off back from where you came with no pay-check, and no tour.”

Both Jackson and Felix started to stalk towards her, but Pepper and Fiona were up and standing in front of them so that they couldn’t move closer. YN didn’t move in fact, and she didn’t look scared. She just stood there, with her arms crossed and feet planted firmly on the floor. She wasn’t scared of a couple of coked-up twenty-year-olds who were complaining because their job was too hard.

“Guys, let’s just have a break yeah?” Pepper was the first to talk, placing her hand on Jackson's shoulder but he was quick to brush it off, “We’ll all go for a smoke yeah? I’ve got some joints, and we’ll share them around.”

“Yeah, come on,” Fiona did the same to Felix, “Both of you are hitting a low, and need to relax.”

YN sighed and shook her head, “Yeah, you two go and relax and get high and by the time you’re back I hope you’ve pulled your head out of your asses and realised you’ve got a job to do.”

Pepper pushed Jackson out of the room, and Fiona did the same to Felix, but she hung back.

“I’m sorry about them they’re both –”

“Pricks?” YN filled in the blank.

“Yeah, that’s a word for them,” Fiona laughed, walking over, and placing a hand on YN’s arm, “You can join us? We can go away from them but there’s no use wasting a joint.”

YN sighs and shakes her head, “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t –”

“That’s fine,” Fiona smiles, “Well, you know where we are if you need us.”

YN offers Fiona a smile and watches as she walks out. Once she’s left on her own, YN drops down on the sofa at the side of the room and drops her head back. One day YN was going to find a band to play with her that created no problems in her life and helped her rather than insult her.

YN’s eyes had drifted shut, and she was a minute or two away from falling asleep. With the long hours and days that she had been having, as well as struggling to sleep on her own without Harry she hadn’t been sleeping well. Today though, she was so ready for bed, and she knew that the second that her head hit the pillow when she got home, she would be fast asleep.

“Knock, knock,” A very familiar voice knocked her out of her slight slumber, as well as the hit of knuckles on the door frame.

YN’s face broke out into a smile at the sound and sight of Vivienne walking into the room, a bag of food from Ed’s in her clutch. She nearly cried on the spot at that sight.

“Hi Viv,” YN smiled, opening her arms so that Vivienne could drop down and wrap YN in a hug.

“Hi babes,” Vivienne laughs, accepting the hug and then dropping down on the sofa next to her.

YN did feel bad. She had completely forgotten that she had agreed to have dinner with Vivienne at the studio today because it was their last night together. Tomorrow, Vivienne was leaving for the first stop of the tour with Pamela and her band, and whilst YN was so excited and so proud of her, she was going to miss her. At the moment, with YN’s days so stressful she was loving coming home to Vivienne and hearing about her day, and then unloading slightly about her day to Vivienne. She was just going to miss that comfort around her.

“Saw the band outside,” Vivienne says and YN sighs, her eyes widening as she shakes her head, “High as kites.”

“They can get as fucking high as they want as far away from me if it means they stop being pricks,” YN sighs, her head leaning on the sofa.

“That bad?”

“That bad,” YN nodded, sitting up and reaching over to grab the bag from Ed’s, “This is exactly what I need right now.”

YN didn’t even hesitate before taking a bite of her chicken sandwich, not caring that she had sauce all around her mouth. Vivienne laughed and passed YN a napkin, allowing her to wipe said sauce from around her mouth.

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” YN asked, popping some fries into her mouth after speaking.

“Seven,” Vivienne responded, and YN blew out a deep breath.

“I’ll try and be awake to say goodbye, but I don’t know,” YN shook her head, “I don’t know what time we’ll be finished here and we’re not leaving until they get, I used to know done.”

Vivienne laughed, taking a bite of her burger, “You can’t say that you’re not getting your money’s worth.”

YN joined in with the laughter and shrugged, “They know what they’ve signed up for, and I have no complaints about Pepper and Fiona – they’re great. It’s just the boys, they’re…”

YN sighs and shakes her head, and Vivienne finishes her sentence, “Too fucking full of themselves.”

“Yes!” YN laughs again, running a hand over her face, “They think they’re the fucking shit and have decided that they can play my songs better than the way I’ve written them even though they’re paid to play them the way I want.”

Vivienne shakes her head, “You must have the patience of a saint to deal with that.”

“I do not, or they would still be here and not banished outside,” YN laughed.

“God, I knew Pamela was lucky with her band but every time I meet yours it fucking solidifies it,” Vivienne shakes her, drinking from her milkshake.

YN’s mouth drops open, “Where did you pull that from? Did you get me one?”

“Of course, I did,” Vivienne reached down to a bag that YN hadn’t seen and pulled out another milkshake, a vanilla one that was YN’s favourite, “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”

“You would be such a shit friend and the fact you got my favourite means you’re the best friend,” YN laughed, taking a sip of her milkshake, “God, I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” Vivienne beams at her friend, “But it’ll not be too long, and you’re seeing lover boy in a week and then you’re jetting for your singsong.”

“Yeah,” YN sighs, running a hand over her face, “Look at us, eh? Busy, busy, busy.”

Vivienne furrowed her eyebrows at the girl, and YN had a slight inclination of what she was trying to say but YN couldn’t bring herself to.

Last week all YN could speak about was how excited she was to see Harry, and a part of her still was. The only thing was, Harry had promised to phone her when he arrived, and she hadn’t received a phone call. She phoned him the next day and he answered, but the conversation was cut short. He said that he’d phone when he had a spare minute, but she hadn’t had a call. She had phoned him, but he hadn’t picked up for a few days after. So far, there hadn’t been any communication between the two and YN was sceptical.

There was a rational part of YN’s brain that knew that he would’ve been busy and getting settled into the tour wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Then, there was the other side of her brain that knew even on tour, there were a few minutes in the day that he could’ve called her, and they could have shared a few minutes of conversation. That was where YN’s scepticism came in.

“He’ll just be busy, babes,” Vivienne placed her hand on YN’s, squeezing her, “You know how much he loves you.”

“I do,” YN nods, “And I’m just stressed, and busy but he’s just busy too.”

At this point, YN didn’t know if she was just trying to convince herself as much.

YN had just been to the bathroom and then beelined to the kitchen to grab herself a cup of coffee in the studio after another full day there with what felt like a lot and not a lot done at the same time. It had been a week since Vivienne had left for her tour, and it was t-minus 2 days until YN was leaving to go meet Harry on tour.

During this week, YN, and her band (mainly Jackson and Felix) finally managed to make some edgeways. It had taken two weeks of work for them to finally realise that YN wasn’t going to back down from having her songs played properly so they might as well just do as she asks. YN knew that if she was a man, and it was a man trying to make them play their songs properly they would do it with no questions asked. She knew that she wasn’t going to back down, and she was just slightly pissed that it had taken them two weeks to finally realise that.

With her mug of coffee clutched in her hand, she made her way back into the rehearsal room.

Once she saw the sight she was greeted by – YN sighed and dropped her head back.

There were a few rules that YN had made the first day that they had started rehearsals. They were mainly to keep the focus on the music, but it was also to protect her and protect all of the progress that she had made.

Walking into that room, her hot coffee in her hand and tiredness washing over her YN could have done with anything else but seeing Jackson and Felix, sat on the sofa doing a line off of one of their guitar cases. With the rules that YN put in place, and how small this place is it would have taken them two seconds to walk into another room or go outside to do it, but yet here they are –ignoring everything that YN had said.

“Jesus,” YN shakes her head, “What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like we’re doing?” Jackson responds, running his fingers against his nose, “Stupid fucking question.”

“I know what you’re doing,” YN crosses her arms over her chest, still clutching her coffee cup in one hand, “My question is why the hell are you doing it?”

“To get fucking high,” Felix laughs, as though it is completely normal, “Why? You want some?”

“No, I don’t fucking want any,” YN shakes her head, “There’s one fucking rule in here and that’s no drugs.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t in the fucking room so why does it matter?” Jackson shrugs.

“It matters because those are the rules,” YN scoffs and shakes her head, “It takes two fucking seconds to leave the room and go somewhere else but you two are too fucking lazy and seem to just not want to listen.”

“It’s because you overdosed, right?” Felix was the one to speak up now, a shit-eating grin on his features, “I read your Stones article. Ended up in rehab, right?”

YN’s entire face dropped. She didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t know if she even wanted to say anything. There was no need for any of this when they were supposed to be working, but as YN had quickly realised from getting sober, what is said when on drugs has no rationale. What was being said was horrible, but they were high, and YN knew that it wasn’t them necessarily who were saying it.

“Uh, YN?” A voice called from over her shoulder.

YN turned to see Rebecca, the receptionist standing at the entrance of the door with a small smile, “Yeah, Rebecca?”

“There’s a phone call for you,” She smiles.

“Thank you,” YN smiles and makes her way towards the door before stopping and turning back to the band, “Just don’t fucking do it in here.”

YN places her coffee cup down and follows Rebecca to the phone, smiling in thanks as she shuts the door behind YN, leaving her alone in the room. YN sits down on the desk, picks the phone up and places it against her ear, saying hello to whoever is on the other side.

“Hey baby,” YN’s body relaxes slightly, as she leans against the wall the desk is pressed against.

“Harry, hi,” Her face breaks out into a beaming smile just at the sound of his voice, “How are you? How have you been?”

“I’m fine baby, just busy,” He sighs into the receiver, and YN can hear slight shuffling, but she just puts it behind her, “How are you? How are the rehearsals going?”

“They’re –” YN hesitates for a second before shaking her head, “It just feels as though every time we take one step forward, we’re also taking about seven steps back.”

“I’m sorry about that baby,” Harry’s voice relaxes her, but also for some reason, it feels as though something isn’t quite right, “But hey, two days and all you’ll have to think about is me.”

YN laughs, “Hundreds of people screaming your name every night isn’t enough, eh? You need me to be obsessed with you too.”

“Well, I’m obsessed with you baby, so I hope you’d be the same,” Harry laughs over the receiver, “I can’t wait to see you, I’m sorry I haven’t phoned that much.”

“I can’t wait to see you either, Harry,” A small smile graces YN’s lips, “Don’t worry about phoning, I know you’ll have been busy, and I just can’t wait to –”

“Harry come on, or we’ll start without you!”

YN’s eyebrows furrow and her head tilts slightly. The voice that interrupted her over the speaker wasn’t one that she recognised. It was female, but it didn’t sound like Sarah or any of the other female members of Harry’s band or the ones that he’s surrounded by.

“Give me a minute, I’m on the phone to YN,” Harry responds to the voice, and it does ease YN slightly.

“Who’s that?” YN asked after she heard the door shut on the other side.

“It’s just Mary,” Harry responds, “She’s the lead singer of the opener.”

“Huh,” YN nods her head. She hadn’t heard much about Harry’s opener, before or even after he had left for tour, “What are they going to start without you?”

“I don’t know,” YN hears rustling, as though he’s running his hand over his face, “I think we’re playing some sort of card game, I don’t know…”

“I don’t want to keep you if they’re waiting for you,” YN smiles, finger running along the edge of the table.

“No, it’s fine baby they can start without me,” He’s quick with his answer, but YN shakes her head.

“No, you need to go and play, and win,” YN laughed, knowing exactly what Harry was like when it comes to games, “I need to get back to rehearsal anyway, and it’s only two days and then I’ll see you.”

“You will, baby,” YN could hear Harry smiling on the other end of the phone, which made her smile in turn, “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too,” YN chuckled, “Now go and play whatever it is, and win because we all know you’ll be in a mood if you don’t.”

“You know me too well,” YN just sighed at Harry’s voice, obviously having his attention on something other than her. She knew what it was like she supposed, and how everything on tour heightened senses and the rest of the world just seemed to revolve around their little bubbles, “I love you, baby. I’ll see you in two days.”

“Bye Harry,” The words slip out of YN’s mouth but just as she mutters, “I love you too,” The phone line stops.

YN sighs, putting the phone down and running a hand over her face. With another sigh, she stood up and made her way back into the studio. Pepper and Fiona had shown up at that point, and there wasn’t a drug in sight in the room anymore. Whilst she might have preferred to be able to get this off her chest with Harry, she was happy that he sounded okay, and that he was just as excited as she was to see each other.

Just after YN walked into the room and picked her coffee back up, the boys walked in. They looked significantly more relaxed than they did before her phone conversation, and a part of YN was relieved by that. It meant that YN hoped that their high would last long enough for her to get through a few more songs before she could call it a night – and leave them to do whatever they wanted to do without her being around.

“Shall we run it from the top?” YN asked, watching as for the first time in a long time they all fell into line.

YN would be lying if she said she didn’t in relief at the sight. They would run through the songs; YN would go home, and she would be a step closer to Harry and have a relaxing week with him.

YN nodded at Fiona, watching as the girl tapped her drumsticks together to count them in. The music started, YN opened her mouth, and she sang and just like that – nothing else mattered in the world.

YN walked out of the Pittsburgh airport, sunglasses perched upon her nose and suitcase dragging behind her. The weather had just begun to warm up, as the seasons slipped between spring to summer, the sun was out in full force. It was as though it knew that YN was having a break, ready for her time with Harry and the sun became the one to greet her for that experience.

YN’s eyes bounced from left to right, looking through the taxi rank to see if she could spot Harry. She knew when her flight was getting in, and he said that he’d already planned to be there when she arrived.

Then, there he was.

Her face broke out into a smile, and she picked her bag up so that she could bounce over to him quicker. He was standing with his arms crossed, resting against a yellow taxicab with his sunglasses perched upon his nose. The second that YN stood before him; his face beamed a smile at her. He uncrossed his arms, and YN took that as her cue to drop her bag down onto the sidewalk beside them and threw her arms around his neck, Harry’s immediately resting in the small of her waist. It felt right, it felt safe – and it felt like home.

“Hi, baby,” YN mumbled, immediately placing a litter of chaste kisses upon his lips, “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Harry smiled, accepting the flurry of kisses YN pressed against his lips, “You ready?”

YN sighed with a blissful smile upon her lips, “More than ready.”

She moved to pick up her bag, but Harry slipped his arm through hers and grabbed the bag for her. He set off towards the trunk of the cab. He nodded at the driver and bounced back to open the door for YN, “My lady…”

YN giggled and nodded her head at Harry, and stepped into the car, “Why thank you, kind sir.”

YN pushed herself across the back seat of the cab so that Harry could slip in behind her. He threw his arm around her shoulder, the girl slipping underneath with ease. It was as though their movements were in sync, as though they knew exactly how the other was most comfortable and where they wanted to be – as close to each other as possible. YN moved her hand so that it could link with Harry’s free one, and rest them on his thigh, squeezing it until his attention was back on her. She lifted her head in his direction, accepting another chaste kiss upon her lips, and another and a flurry of more until the two of them were in a fit of giggles in the back seat. YN wondered at what point the driver of the cab would realise who they were, and whether or not this would be a headline the next day, but she didn’t care – she was in the arms of the man she loved.

“I think we should scrap the party tonight,” Harry mumbled against her lips, pulling away and resting his head upon hers, “I haven’t seen you in too long, and I have no plans of sharing you tonight.”

YN shook her head, unable to control the laugh that escaped her lips. She slipped her head into the nape of his neck, placing a kiss there, “Whilst I don’t hate that idea, we can’t exactly not show up to a party that is being thrown for us.”

“I think that’s exactly what we should do,” Harry nodded, his lips pouting ever so slightly, “You’ll have your time to catch up this week at some point — I need my time to catch up with you all on my own.”

YN rolled her eyes lightly, but a smile never left her face. She knew what Harry was doing, and she also knew that they would have plenty of time for that before the party started, so there was no need for them to miss it.

“Whilst there are things I can’t wait to do,” YN mumbled against his neck, her teeth grazing the skin ever so slightly, “I can’t wait to see Sarah and Mitch, and what was her name again? The singer in the opener?”

“It’s, uh, Mary,” Harry mumbled, and whilst YN heard the slight shift in his voice, she decided to ignore it, “You’ll get to meet her tomorrow, even if you don’t tonight.”

“Harry,” YN warned, turning to face him with a slight raise of her eyebrow, “We’re not missing it. Don’t want to hear another word about it.”

The cab stopped outside the hotel after around half an hour of driving, and YN would be lying if she said that she wasn’t thankful that she had finally stopped travelling and could rest. The drive hadn’t been that long, but the flight included meant that it had been non-stop all day, and she was truly ready for said rest.

YN’s lips parted in shock when she walked into his hotel room, “Jesus, Harry, is this a hotel room or a house?”

“Only the best for you,” Harry gleamed a smile at YN as he placed her suitcase at the end of the bed, “In all honesty, ticket sales were through the roof and the label only wanted me to have the best of the best.”

“God,” YN sighed, dropping down on the bed that truly felt like a cloud, “I hope I get this treatment.”

Harry dropped down next to her, reaching his hand out to move her hair off her face, “You will. I have no doubts about that.”

YN sighed, sitting up, “Well that makes one of us.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed from his place on the bed. He sat up and moved closer to YN so that he was directly behind her. He rested his head upon her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skin there ever so gently.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” YN shook her head, running her hand across her forehead, “It’s nothing. I think I’m just tired.”

“You know you can tell me anything,” Harry mumbled, head still pressed against her neck, “Whatever’s worrying you.”

“It’s nothing, I promise,” YN nods, turning her head so that she can place a kiss on his lips, “If it gets too bad, I promise I’ll tell you.”

His hands came to wrap around YN’s waist, pulling her towards him, “We’ve got time to rest before the party.”

YN’s head turned to look at Harry, “I thought you didn’t want to go to the party.”

Harry sighed and offered her a smile, “I suppose it would be rude not to show up to our party, like you said.”

YN just chuckled, leaning forward to place her lips upon Harry’s. It was strange how quickly the two of them had just fallen back into the comfortable familiar space that they often found with each other. YN’s fingers found their rightful place in the nape of Harry’s neck, tugging on the curls that rested there. It was crazy how much she had missed this man whilst they had been apart, but she supposed that was what love is – always wanting to be around the person and missing him when he’s not around.

YN should have been surprised when their kisses were more from more than just a peck, but she wasn’t. Their tongues began moving together in blissful harmony. There were other things that she missed as well as just Harry himself. It was a feeling that she couldn’t find on her own, and she needed him to be with her for it.

YN’s body turned, and her hands slipped around Harry so that they ran up his back. She could feel the curl of Harry’s lips as he smiled against hers, “I thought you said you were tired.”

“I am,” YN’s lips curled into a smile as well, “But I can rest later.”

“That you can.”

YN giggled as Harry’s hands moved down her body, gripping the lacey material of her tank top and pulling it over her body in one quick motion. She had forgone a bra that morning, mainly for comfort on the flight but she would be lying if she said there wasn’t the thought of easy access for a situation such as this one. Harry’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets at the sight, as though he was a boy again and seeing his first pair of tits.

“You’ve seen them before,” YN giggled, watching as his eyes jumped from her chest to her eyes and then back down to her chest again.

Harry just beamed a smile at her, “And it’s like Christmas every time.”

He dropped his head down to her neck, placing kisses along the skin until it met her chest before they landed directly on the plush skin of her breast. His teeth grazed her nipple, tugging at the peak lightly to elicit a hiss from her lips. He knew exactly what buttons on her body to push, and whilst she sometimes hated it, she loved it at the same time.

“No teasing,” YN spoke breathlessly once Harry had released her nipple, her hands resting against his cheeks to pull his head back up to him, “I don’t have the energy for teasing.”

“Another time,” Harry nodded, and YN breathed a sigh of relief when he obliged her request.

He pulled his shirt over his head in one quick motion. Whilst he was doing that, YN made a quick move to take her pants off, throwing them upon the pile of clothes that was collecting at the side of the bed. She watched as Harry pulled his trousers, and underwear off at the same time – those too landing upon the pile. He dropped back on the bed, resting against the headrest and allowing YN to climb over and straddle his waist.

“Wanna ride you,” YN mumbled against Harry’s lips, “Need to be close to you.”

“I’m here,” Harry nodded, “Take what you want.”

YN rested one of her hands on his shoulder, using it to steady herself as she lined herself up with his cock. His hands found their rightful place upon her waist, helping her to comfortably drop down onto his cock at whatever pace she needed to. YN moaned against Harry’s cheek as she accommodated his full size, feeling that comfort and fullness that she hadn’t since Harry had left.

“So full,” YN mumbled against his cheek, “Feels so good and deep.”

The pace that YN and Harry had decided upon was slow, but it was deep. The pleasure that it provided was too much for both of them. Harry’s hips bucked up to YN’s to match her pace, their lips meeting and never disconnecting from each other’s apart to allow a moan to slip past.

“Can feel you squeezing me,” Harry mumbled into her lips, “Getting yourself off on my cock.”

“Missed this, missed you,” YN moaned, her lips parting as his hips bucked deeper in her.

Harry’s hand slipped down between their bodies, his thumb resting upon her clit and beginning to circle the little nub. YN gasped into Harry’s mouth once more, unable to hold back from the overwhelming pleasure she was feeling. It was everything together, moving all at once that caused her to tighten around Harry’s cock once more, her orgasm washing over her soon after. Harry followed not too closely behind, his grip on YN’s wait tightening as he did so.

“How did I last so long without you?” Harry mumbled, his head falling onto her shoulder, “Think you should be with me, forever.”

YN just chuckled, using Harry’s shoulder to lift herself off of him. She whimpered slightly at the loss of contact, but Harry was there to stabilise her once she had done.

“I’m here now,” YN dropped down on the plush bed again with a smile. Harry leaned over to place a soft peck on his lips, moving her head to rest upon his shoulder, “God, I do need that rest now.”

“We’ve got time,” Harry nodded, placing a kiss on YN’s hairline, “Can have a quick snooze now, if you fancy?”

YN nodded, snuggling into Harry’s body. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep, dropping into dreamland ever so quickly just by knowing that Harry was there with her. Harry didn’t move the entire time that she was asleep, knowing that she needed it more than he needed his arm. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t drop off at some point, waking to the sound of YN fluttering around the room.

“This is a nice wake-up call,” He beamed a smile at her from the bed, watching as she sat at the vanity with only a towel wrapped around her body.

YN just giggled, “You slept right through my shower. Seems like I wasn’t the only one who needed rest.”

Harry stood up from the bed, bare feet padding across the carpet until he was behind her, “Haven’t slept the best this tour, seems like I needed you in my bed.”

YN huffed a laugh, “In more ways than one, I presume. Now, shower. We can’t be late.”

“We can,” Harry nodded, head resting on her shoulder, “If we have to go, we can at least be late.”

YN groaned and pushed Harry in the direction of the bathroom, “Shower.”

Harry groaned once more but did as she said and stepped into the bathroom. YN took her time, doing her hair until it was sitting perfectly, and until her makeup looked flawless. The dress that she decided to wear hugged her body in all the right places, the sleeves stopping at her elbow where they extended into a bell shape. It was a light iridescent fabric, and once YN had placed her bangles on her wrists and her cowboy boots were on her feet she truly felt excited, and ready to party.

“God,” Harry whistled as he walked out of the shower, his towel resting low on his waist, “Are you sure we have to go?”

“Yes,” YN continues to fasten her earrings, “Get dressed.”

Harry dropped the towel, walking over to grab his clothes, “Positive?”

YN groaned, pushing past Harry, and opening the wardrobe to grab the clothes she wanted him to wear. She threw the jeans at him, as well as the vest and shirt that she loved ever so much. He just smiled at her, slipping his underwear on.

“You look gorgeous,” Harry smiled, and YN couldn’t help the flush that covered her cheeks.

“Thank you,” She placed a chaste kiss on his lips, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

By the time that YN and Harry had walked into the room where the party was being held, it was already in full swing. Harry’s arm was securely wrapped around YN’s waist, and hers around his. It didn’t last very long though, as the second that YN saw Sarah in the distance her face was beaming out into a smile, and she was deserting Harry and making her way over there.

“Oh it’s been too long,” YN smiled as she wrapped her arms around Sarah.

“It’s Harry’s fault,” Sarah sighed with a shake of her head, “He’s kept you all to himself.”

YN rolled her eyes, “It took some convincing to even come today, basically had to force him out of the room.”

Sarah laughed and pointed towards the drinks table, saying that she was going to get them a drink. YN sighed and nodded, saying that she’d wait here. Her eyes danced around the room, obviously trying to find Harry. She found him standing in the corner of the room, a bottle of beer grasped tightly in his hand, talking to a blonde girl with a smile on his face.

Sarah returned with a bottle of cola in her hand for YN and a beer in her hand for herself. YN smiled at her, but her eyes returned to Harry and the girl across the room.

“Thank you,” YN nodded, taking a sip, “Who’s that Harry’s talking to?”

Sarah’s eyes followed the direction that YN was pointing in, “Oh that’s Mary, Harry’s probably told you about her.”

“He has,” YN nodded, pointing her head back in Mary’s direction, “Introduce me?”

Sarah widened her eyes but nodded, walking towards the pair. YN cleared her throat the second that they stood in front of them, interrupting whatever conversation they were having.

“Mary, this is YN,” Sarah nodded.

YN smiled and wrapped her arm around Harry’s waist, “Harry’s girlfriend.”

“No, it’s, uh, so nice to meet you!” The girl beamed, the British accent shocking YN slightly, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

It was then that YN saw it. The constantly shaking hands, the blown pupils and the fidgeting with her nose were everything that YN needed to know.

“Vivienne’s having a good time,” YN nodded as she walked back into Harry’s dressing room after finishing up her phone call with Vivienne, “I tried to ask about the tour, but it was Pamela this and Pamela that."

Harry nodded, opening his arm out to YN so that she could drop beneath it, “She’s in love, leave her be.”

“I am, don’t worry,” YN laughed, bringing her feet up so that she could curl up with him, “I’m sure I was just the same. It was probably always Harry this and Harry that.”

Harry just shook his head, pressing a kiss to her hairline. He was dressed and ready for the show, and Mary’s band was already on stage for their set so she knew that it wasn’t going to be long before Harry would be whisked up onto stage.

“The break’s not too long away, right?” Harry asked, finger messing with the frill on YN’s shirt, “Then she’s coming to see you, right?”

“Yeah,” YN nodded, absentmindedly running her finger across the material of his trousers, “She won’t tell me much, I’ll probably have to pry it out of her.”

Harry just laughed, “Or you could just wait for her to tell you herself?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” YN grimaced with a shake of her head.

It was then that YN felt Harry’s fingers move from the frill of her shirt to the soft skin of her stomach. She could tell what kind of a mood he was in (despite what they had done that morning, soft and slow wrapped in the covers from the bed) and found it even more so when his fingers slipped beneath the material of her skirt.

“We don’t have time for that,” YN mumbled, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip as his teeth started to graze the nape of her neck.

It was no use though, for Harry already was slipping his hand underneath her body to pull her onto his lap. Once his lips were upon hers, it was as though nothing was going to stop them. She was drunk off him, and nothing was going to stop them.

His hands rested firmly upon her ass, his fingers digging into the flesh eliciting a moan from YN’s lips. YN sighed against Harry, rocking her hips towards his. She hadn’t a single idea of how long they had been making out like a bunch of horny teenagers.

“Harry!” The door burst open, and Harry and YN’s lips disconnected to see who it was that interrupted them, "You should see it out there it’s… oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” YN offered the girl a smile, clambering off Harry’s lap, “Don’t worry about it.”

“I forgot you were here if truth be told,” Mary spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It did cause YN’s eyebrows to furrow at the girl, “I’m just so used to walking in here.”

YN furrowed her eyebrows once more and turned to look at Harry, but he wasn’t looking in her direction at all. YN watched as Mary walked into the room and dropped down on the sofa across from them. It was hot on stage, but the sweat that was dropping off her body was more than just the heat from the stage that was causing her to sweat in such a way.

YN’s suspicions were once again confirmed when the girl pulled a small bag out of the trouser pocket and tipped the contents onto the table in front of them. YN’s heart started to beat quickly, and she reached over to grab Harry’s hand.

“Uh, Mary,” Harry spoke, leaning forward in his seat slightly, “Do you think, that, maybe you could do that somewhere else?”

Marry let out a laugh, but that dropped when she saw the serious expression on Harry’s face, “Are you being serious? You’ve never had an issue before.”

“I know, and now I do,” He shrugged, and then stood up, “Think it’s time for me to get out there.”

He leaned down to place a kiss on YN’s lips, “Smash it, I love you.”

“Love you too,” He walked towards the door, “You’re coming to watch, yeah?”

“Course I am, give me a second.”

YN waited until the door had shut behind him when she turned to Mary, who had just finished her line. Mary wiped her nose, turning to look at YN who was still facing her.

“Do you want some?” Mary asked and YN shook her head.

“No, I don’t,” YN sighed standing up, “Are you coming to watch Harry?”

“Never miss it,” Mary nodded, “I’ll be there in a second!”

YN sighed and walked out of the room, moving towards the side of the stage. She smiled at Jeff who was already there, and watched as Harry did what he did best. Their shared love of music, and the way that it brought them and so many people closer together. Seeing him dance and sing his heart out and have all of those people singing along with him –caused her heart to grow even more for the man on the stage.

“It’s insane that he can do what he does,” Mary spoke from the side of her, “He’s just amazing.”

YN offered Mary a smile and nodded her head, ready to turn her attention back to Harry but then she saw Mary, and she saw the look that the girl was giving Harry as she moved on the stage. It was a familiar look, but YN couldn’t quite place her finger on what it was that was familiar. Then when she turned to look at Harry she realised what it was.

It was the look that YN had given Harry every time that she had seen him on stage, the one that for herself manifested in her love for him. YN couldn’t stop whatever feelings the other girl was manifesting for Harry, and she couldn’t control what would happen, but she could love Harry as much as she could.

All she had to do was hope that was enough.

“How come you’ve got a private jet?” YN asked nudging Harry who was sitting in the seat next to her with her elbow, “I feel as though you’ve got everything this time.”

“You’re just jealous,” Harry responded, sliding down into the seat further, “You just wish that you’d asked for a private jet.”

YN just huffed, settling further down in her own seat. Sarah and Mitch just laughed from their seats across from the couple, watching as Harry tried to wrap his arm around YN but she pulled away with a pout on her face.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Sarah shook her head, “It’s small and cramped and you can hear everything that everyone is saying.”

That became ever so obvious when the four of them dropped silent, and everything that was being said at the front of the plane seemed to get louder. YN tipped her head down the centre aisle to see a few of the other members of the band, as well as the opening act. Although YN couldn’t see exactly who was in the middle of the group, she had an incline that Mary would be one of those present.

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” YN nods, grimacing slightly, “I think I’d lose my head if I was stuck on a plane with just my band.”

“You’d have Leroy, yeah?” Harry mumbles, dropping his head down onto YN’s shoulder.

“Yes, I would have Leroy, but I don’t think even he’d be the best company that I’ve ever had,” YN shrugs, moving her arm slightly so that Harry could get even more comfortable.

“He seems alright from what I’ve seen,” Sarah shrugs.

YN groans, “He is, he’s okay. He’s just forty and I think he’s potentially going through a midlife crisis and that isn’t exactly where I’m at in my life.”

Sarah and Mitch both laugh at her words, and it’s at that point that they realise that Harry’s already fallen asleep. It hadn’t taken him long. YN gently kicks her bag over to Sarah, asking if she can take a photo of the two of them. YN smiles as Sarah points the polaroid in her and Harry’s direction, the man already beginning to drool on her shoulder – but she didn’t mind.

Sarah passed the printed photo to YN, smiling as she watched the girl shake the print a few times before smiling at the sight. YN was smiling in the photo, but it seemed as though Sarah had managed to capture YN as she had turned to look at Harry’s sleeping form. It was a beautiful photo, and it would be one that YN would cherish forever.

“Can I ask you both something?” YN asked after a minute or so, her eyes dropping to Harry just to ensure that the man was still asleep. It was then that YN realised that Mitch had also fallen asleep, and it was just her and Sarah left awake, “Or, can I ask you something, Sarah?”

“Of course, you can,” Sarah responded quickly, as if it was the easiest response in the world.

YN sighed, her eyes resting upon the photo that she had left face-up on the table in front of them, “How is he? Genuinely.”

“Harry?” Sarah asked, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as YN nodded, “He seems fine to me.”

YN nodded, “It’s just… I mean, we didn’t talk much before I came out and it just feels… possibly, as though he’s hiding something.”

Sarah shook her head, “I highly doubt it, YN. That boy can’t keep secrets for shit. When he first started seeing you, Mitch and I could tell that something was off with him, but he kept denying it and denying it until he said that someone was joining us in the studio the next day.”

“And it was me,” YN smiled, remembering that day.

She had been nervous when Harry had asked her to come into the studio with him. She knew the band and had already met them many times before (being on tour with them and everything) but, seeing as though she left that tour in a less than desirable way she was nervous to see them all again. The nerves also came being in the studio with them, and whilst yes she performed in front of them every night – being in a studio with them was a completely different experience. It was way more raw, and exposed and vulnerable.

But, despite all of YN’s worries and her concerns none of it mattered. None of it mattered because the second that she walked into that studio; they all accepted her with open arms. It was as though none of them judged her or thought less of her due to what happened and instead, they all just cared about her well-being, and also any of the ideas that she may have.

“I wouldn’t worry, YN,” Sarah shook her head, “I think you would know if you had anything to worry about.”

YN had hoped that would ease her mind.

There was a part of her that knew that from Harry’s side, she had nothing to worry about. She knew that he was in love with her, and she was with him and there was no reason for her to dispute that ever. The thing that worried YN was that she knew that Mary harnessed some of those feelings for Harry, and she had no reason not to act on them. Whilst to some people, being in a relationship would be reason enough not to try something with a person –unfortunately, YN knew better when it came to some musicians.

At the same time though, she could be worrying herself for no reason and she had no reason to judge Mary at this point as she didn’t know the girl. But there was something in the back of her mind nagging her that she should trust her gut and trust her instincts.

She just hoped that her instincts were wrong.

The second that YN stepped into her and Harry’s hotel room, she made a beeline for the shower. Harry trailed behind her, but they didn’t say a word to each other. Her conversation with Sarah and her doubts were spiralling around her head.

With a sigh, YN reached into the shower to turn the water on, taking a second or so to allow the water to warm up before she stripped and stepped inside. It always felt night to wash travel off of her body, and that was no different now that she was in a private jet instead of just a normal plane. The shower allowed for YN to wash the flight off of her, but also allowed her body to relax from all of the thoughts that had been circling in her brain.

She had just begun to shampoo her hair when the door opened, revealing Harry’s body ready to get into the shower with her.

“Can I join you?” He asked, a soft expression on his face rather than what she expected it to have.

YN nodded her head, “Help me shampoo?”

Harry smiled but nodded, stepping into the shower, and closing the door behind him. He wasted no time in slipping his hands through her already soapy hair and began to massage her scalp, just as she had been doing but it felt so much better when he was doing it.

The fact that Harry was so close to her, and yet she felt as though there were things that they both were hiding from each other. It was difficult, and her brain was struggling to handle that fact. The last time she felt like this, she would turn to drugs, alcohol, or anything just to numb the feelings that she was having. And yet, she couldn’t do that now. She wouldn’t do that now.

Instead, as Harry continued to run his fingers through her hair the only way that she could express what she was feeling was by crying. It started as one tear slipping down her cheek until multiple were and then her shoulders started to shake. Harry’s hands stopped running through her hair, and that was when she knew that he had noticed her crying.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Harry’s hands grasped her shoulders, turning her around so that she was facing him. The water began to run over her head, and she closed her eyes so that none of the shampoo would go into her eyes. The crying didn’t necessarily help with that, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” YN shook her head, but she couldn’t stop the crying either, “I don’t know, I’m fine I think.”

“Well, you’re not,” Harry pointed out with a small smile on his face, his thumb coming to rest on the soft skin of her cheek, “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just tell me how I can help.”

That only made YN cry more. The fact that Harry was so understanding of her, and seemed to know exactly what she needed even when she didn’t even know herself.

“It’s nothing, I swear,” YN pouted slightly, “I think I’m just sad that I’m leaving in a few days.”

“YN,” Harry shook his head, moving closer to her to wrap his arms around her body. YN slipped hers around his waist, pushing her body as close as she could to his.

If she didn’t feel comfortable enough at this moment to say how she truly felt, she knew that she could say something else. It wasn’t a lie either, because there was a nagging in her head that worried about how both of them would respond to being apart again. She hadn’t even thought about her tour the entire time that she had been here, and that thought was slowly creeping up to the forefront of her mind as well.

“I’m sorry,” She shook her head, “I don’t know, I think I’m maybe just nervous about my tour and leaving you.”

“Don’t apologise,” Harry shook his head, placing a kiss to her forehead, “I feel the same way.”

YN’s heart broke at the fact that Harry was feeling this way too. She supposed that he didn’t have the same feelings regarding Mary that she did, but that didn’t matter. She was struggling with the idea of leaving him with no control over the situation, and also toying with the stress of being without him.

It was a struggle that neither both of them would have to do alone though, and that was the bliss of it she supposed.

“Hey, we’ll call at every opportunity,” Harry nods, dipping his head so that he caught her eye-line, “I promise I’ll be better.”

“You’re perfect,” YN shook her head, “As long as we do this together, we’ll be fine.”

Harry dipped his head down once more to place his lips onto hers, and she accepted the kiss with no hesitation. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, a small smile crossing her face as she did.

“I have an idea,” Harry spoke, his head resting upon hers, “But I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

“What is it?” YN lifted her head up, the water still cascading over her shoulders.

“I want you to come on stage tonight,” He spoke, looking down at her with nothing but adoration in his eyes, “I want to sing Cherry, with you – just us.”

YN began to cry again, but it wasn’t due to any sadness, but it was just the overwhelming amount of love that she felt for the man in her arms.

“I’d love nothing more.”

“We’re starting in Nevada,” YN spoke, her fingernail tapping against the glass of water she had in her hand as she spoke to Jeff, “Then it’s three months, I think, maybe four and then we’re finishing in L.A. Troubadour actually.”

“God, that’s amazing YN,” Jeff shook his head, a proud and truly glad expression on his face, “Let me know the date and I’ll see if Harry’s free.”

YN’s face broke out into a smile, “I’ll get Leroy to send the details over, I’d love to have him come out.”

“I’m sure he’d love it too.”

Harry and YN had already spoken about whether or not he was going to join her for her last show, and seeing as though his tour would be long done and he’d be back at home in L.A, it made sense. There was the panic that came over YN’s body at Harry’s request of flying his mother out so she could meet YN and see them perform. YN had never been in a relationship such as this one before, one that felt as though it was going to last and to the point where meeting parents was actually on the cards. But, she wasn’t going to say that to Harry when he had been so excited over the prospect.

“Speaking of Harry,” Jeff sighed, checking his watch, “He should be here. Mary finished five minutes or so ago.”

“Oh,” YN looked around the room and saw Sarah and Mitch and other members of the band but no Harry, “He’s probably in his dressing room, I’ll go get him.”

YN placed her glass down on the table and walked out of the room. Harry’s dressing room was just down the hall, and she had been in there with him earlier but she could tell that he needed a moment so she decided the best thing to do was make herself scarce. It didn’t upset her that he needed his space, God knows she’s the same before she performs but it was strange that he wasn’t with the rest of the band when they were supposed to be going on stage soon.

Not thinking that anything would be amis, YN opened the door and walked into the room and then her heart dropped.

Harry was sitting on the sofa, with Mary straddled across his lap and their faces pressed together. YN must have gasped, because both of them turned to her. Harry immediately threw Mary off his lap, but it seemed that all three of them were frozen in shock.

YN’s eyes started to glass over, “Jeff is, uh, looking for you.”

Without another word YN turned and walked out of the room, ignoring Harry’s calls of her name from behind her. She walked towards the green room but before she could step inside, Sarah threw the door open.

“Oh,” Sarah jumped slightly at YN being stood outside the door, “Are you okay?”

The girl’s expression dropped at the shocked look on YN’s, “I’m fine. Is it time?”

“Yeah, we’re just ready to go,” Sarah’s attention was taking by Harry and Mary walking towards them from behind YN, and even though she wanted nothing more than to turn and walk away from this entire thing, she had made a promise to perform with them, and it would look strange if she didn’t uphold that promise.

It was also a good way of ensuring that YN didn’t do something that she would regret in the future.

“Let’s get this show on the road then,” YN nodded and turned and walked away from the group without another word.

When Harry began performing, it was obvious that something was amiss. He wasn’t his usual chatty self, and there were few times that YN thought that he was going to cry. YN tried with everything in her might not to cry, because she wasn’t going to give Mary (who was standing just a few feet away from her) that satisfaction. The girl, even though she might have been involved in one of the worst things that had ever happened to YN seemed to have not a single feeling about the situation. But YN also knew that when someone was using heavy drugs, just as Mary was emotions and reality didn’t exactly work the same as a normal person would.

That angered YN more than she expected it to.

She hadn’t even realised how much time had passed until a microphone was being thrust into her hand, and she realised that Harry was speaking to the crowd.

“Now,” He held his hands out to quieten the crowd as much he could, “I have a very special guest coming out tonight to sing this next song with me. She’s… she’s my world, she’s my everything and I love her so much. So, can you all make some noise for YN YLN!”

Exhaling a breath, YN walked out onto the stage. It was crazy to her that the second she found herself on stage and she heard the crowd chanting her name – all of her worries seemed to ease ever so slightly.

The music started, and she turned to look at Harry, but he was staring straight ahead as though he was trying everything in his power not to look at her. It broke YN’s heart.

“Don’t you call him baby/ we’re not talking lately/ don’t you call him what you used to call me,” Harry started to sing, and even though YN tried not to she couldn’t help but be captivated by him, “I, I confess I can tell that you are your best/ I’m selfish so I’m hating it,”

YN lifted her microphone up to her lips, trying to compose herself before she started singing , “I’ve noticed that there’s a piece of me in how you dress/ I take it as a compliment,” YN took a breath, “Don’t you call me baby/ We’re not talking lately/ He doesn’t call me what you used to call me.”

Once she had finished singing, she turned to look at Harry who was this time staring right at her. He had angled his body in her direction, and she did the same for him. Now, it didn’t matter how many other people were on stage with them, or how many people were in the audience listening to them. It was as though they were the only two people on the stage.

And it broke YN’s heart.

“I, I just miss/ I just miss your accent and your friends/ Do you know I still talk to them?” YN closed her eyes, listening to Harry and everything that he was singing at her. His voice broke, but he managed to recover quicker than YN would have been able to.

“You know he takes me walking round his parents’ gallery,” YN could feel the tears starting to collect in her eyes, and she saw that the same were collecting in Harry’s.

“Don’t you call him [me] baby/ We’re not talking lately,” Everything that was wanting to be said between the two of them was being spoken to each other just by the looks in their eyes. The hurt, the betrayal, the regret. To an outsider, this must have been the oddest experience and yet one that spoke the loudest words.

“Don’t you call him what you used to call me.,” The two of them finish at the same time and there was silence, “He doesn’t call me what you used to call me.”

Once the crowd broke out into cheers they both knew – it was over.

#rm #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles series #series

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blue--ingenue · 6 months

Text

"Evasive Maneuvers" - Part 8

Summary: You've been in love with Sebastian since the moment you knocked him on his arse on your first day. Entering your sixth year, you finally begin working up the courage to confess your feelings when he suddenly becomes the best Beater Hogwarts has seen in decades - and subsequently becomes the school's most eligible bachelor.

Author's Notes: back at it with part 8 after an extended hiatus! i'm so sorry for the angsty cliffhanger, my loves. college has been taking up most of my time, but i promise this isn't the last chapter! see you at the next one :)))

Sebastian Sallow had never considered himself undesirable, but ever since his daring rescue and subsequent placement on the Championship team his popularity skyrocketed. Several of the girls in his year had begun giggling each time they passed him in the halls between classes, and a few of them even trailed him class to class, blushing like mad. He seemed to have caught the eye of every witch, and nearly every wizard, in the castle. Every witch, that is, except the one he so desperately longed to speak to. To add insult to injury, his beloved Gryffindor was seldom seen without Garreth Weasley by her side. Garreth, who had been chosen as the Championship team’s second Beater.

When Professor Howin announced the official roster after dinner last week Sebastian was hardly surprised. Everything was going to Hell in a handbasket, and he would’ve been more shocked if she’d chosen anyone other than that smug git. He hadn’t spoken to his Gryffindor since last week. It might take time, but surely she had to understand that he was wrong for her. Even if he’d wanted to apologize to her, what would he even say? He couldn’t - wouldn’t - place her in harm’s way ever again. Despite his every effort to make amends for his actions in fifth year, there was always a voice whispering to him in the dark recesses of his mind. It mimicked her screams and promised that she would never be safe so long as he was by her side. In time Ominis, Anne, and his beloved Gryffindor had all forgiven him. But he could never forgive himself.

He was growing restless in her absence, throwing himself into his studies and pushing himself to exhaustion at every practice. He found work to be the best distraction, but even his fellow team members could sense he was nearing a breaking point.

He found himself searching for her in every corridor hoping to get her alone so that he could begin to fix things. Perhaps he could convince her that they weren’t right for each other. He could sever the thread connecting their hearts and cauterize the wound with the guilt that tormented him each night. They could remain friends, just friends, and nothing more. Sebastian told himself that it would be enough. If he could survive just having her in his life, even if it meant never having her in his arms. And every day, just before he saw her laughing with Garreth, he could almost make himself believe it.

---

The worst thing about nightmares wasn’t the horrors that waited, but the inescapability of it all. For all his books and cleverness, logic was useless against the throes of his own terrified mind. A good night’s sleep was a pipe dream. After nearly an hour of tossing and turning Sebastian gave up on trying to rest and slipped away to the common room.

The cavernous hall was as empty as he expected it to be in the dead hours of early morning. The fires burned demurely in the hearths and the gentle padding of his slippers against stone was the only sound to echo back to him. He stood in the center of the main atrium facing the windows and took a deep breath. As a little boy Sebastian had hated feeling small, like he was at the mercy of everyone and everything bigger than him.

But now as he gazed up at the great vaulted ceilings he was reminded of how freeing it felt to let go. A year before his parents’ accident they’d taken a family trip to London. His most vivid memory was of the grand cathedrals they’d visited. The stone arches sloped around intricate stained glass windows reached proudly for the heavens at least a hundred feet above him. The gentle timbre of a practicing choir and the sun caressing his cheek had lulled him into a sense of peace reminiscent of falling asleep in his mother’s arms. He’d give anything to feel that small and safe and protected again.

Ever since he’d lost his parents Sebastian had been determined to keep those he cared about safe at any cost. If he had to choose between his happiness or theirs, he’d relinquish his own without question. If he was doing the right thing to keep his Gryffindor safe, then why did it cause him such agony?

The unfairness of it all seeped into his very bones and settled like lead. Sebastian wondered if the universe decided ahead of time which souls were marked to suffer. If he had been faster the night his parents collapsed in their laboratory, perhaps his family would still be together. If he’d been just a bit smarter in fifth year, perhaps he could have found a cure for his sister before resorting to torturing his best friend.

He vaguely registered the book slip from his weak grasp. It was the starting thud of the spine hitting marble that roused him from his thoughts. As he bent to retrieve the tome he heard a soft sigh from one of the couches by the fire. He wasn’t alone. Curiosity got the better of him and drew him toward the sleeping figure.

His breath hitched as he recognized the girl asleep among the velvet cushions. A faraway voice reminded him of Ominis’ passing remarks from breakfast. She and Ominis were working together on a class project by the end of the week and they would be working in the common room for a few hours. But it didn’t matter. None of it did. She was curled up on her side, hair sloped gently around her shoulders in the softest halo he’d ever seen. Her chest rose and fell and with every breath Sebastian felt himself pulled impossibly closer. He was near enough to notice the tiny shiver that sent a tremble through her frame. He realized she must be cold.

On instinct he slipped out of his robe and laid it over her. She didn’t stir when the makeshift blanket settled around her, and he didn’t want her to. Inexplicably the anxiety had drained from him. He would have given anything for her to just look at him. Weeks without her company had made him desperate. But seeing her sleeping peacefully, knowing that she was safe from harm and poachers and all else for at least one night, was enough for him.

He allowed himself to stare shamelessly, selfishly, for a moment more before quietly making his way back to his room. As he crawled beneath the covers he idly wondered if her ancient magic was what had calmed him so. It was the last thought to cross his mind before he fell into the gently arms of oblivion, free from nightmares for the first time in ages.

Taglist:@snickette, @findingtruenorth23, @plooloo, @paganicher, @smilesworldsposts, @snoozebun, @crazyllamasurfer, @pixie-dustss, @margottheviking, @lollife1617, @milk-barrs-blog, @somethingiswrongwithme, @bleh-stupid, @stay-gray, @mrsbrookesallow, @lostgirl-28, @kateisnotheree, @doigettokeepyou, @dreamqueenkala, @uwuitzerimpact, @neoqueen306, @ghostly-haunted, @exhorto, @riceballsandanime, @theperson-nextdoor, @lb-littlebear, @bambis-butterfly, @lovely12521 , @riceballsandanime, @kamikokii, @pausolvia27

#its about the yearning #the YEARNING #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow #angst #fluff #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x y/n

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kaeyahiya · 1 year

Text

"Unrequited Enemies" (NSFW)

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Pairing: Ayato x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW/Explicit content, use of y/n if that bothers you,use of feminine parts, enemies to lovers (kinda), swearing, and mentions of marking, a little bit of angst, a little bit of smut

Disclaimer: This is intended for adult viewing only, I have plenty of SFW content on my master list so please check that out instead. I am strongly discouraging and actively not condoning the consummation of this content for anyone who is a minor.

Word count: 5687 OH MY GOD???

Authors note: This is LONG the longest thing I think I've written to date. This counts as like a full fic, should be like a multi chapter type beat. It's a long read but dare I say this might be my best work yet. Anway, I haven't written anything for Ayato bc he was a faceless ncp before I went on my hiatus.... I am also in love with man and couldn't stand the thought of this. Hence I'm writing a self serving fic bc I'm incredibly selfish rn and need some of this man in my life. Also I enjoy a good enemies to lovers troupe sue me!! ALSO ALSO THIS IS GENDERED HAHAHAHA finally if you see my master list it's all been GN so ha I did it. Anyway enjoy me being selfish 🧍🏻‍♂️(edit) Future self here... This took me almost a month to write, this turned into a novel and I apologize....

This will also be crossposted on my A03 probably bc of the girth of this beast. You can read it: Here if you prefer that interface better

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Working under the Kamisato's was a blessing. Truly it was. You considered yourself exceptional in hospitality and an ace seamstress. That's how the Kamisato clan sought you out.

Lady Ayaka was kind, the easy one to put it bluntly. Her tasks were normal simply as asking you to clean her linens or making small repairs on her formal wears. (Which Thoma would normally jump in to help, cleaning and sewing was also his forte). Genuinely, she was the nicest noble person you've ever seen, still managing to keep an air of excellence and gracefulness to her despite her overly kind nature.

Working there is what kept you and your family fed and you were able to have a safe haven during the Vision Hunt Degree when being a vision holder yourself was hard to avoid.

However, working under the Kamisato's wasn't easy work by any means.

The head of the household was where the issue lied when it came to your work. Kamisato Ayato, you swear had it out for you since you arrived to work for them. One day he'd have you doing mundane tasks like taking inventory of the spices in the kitchen, and the next it would be making him tea over and over until it was the exact temperature he liked.

Not to mention all the constant repairs on his clothes you'd have to do, whether it be taking care of personal matters or training with his sister he'd always come back with piles of clothes in need of huge repairs.

You probably would have punched the pretty smirk off of "Lord Ayato's" face if it wasn't for poor Thoma keeping you afloat. You feel bad but while he cooks, you normally lament your frustrations to him. He'll occasionally offer his support or advice, since after all he's your senior and also a fellow outsider of Inazuma.

"Miss, your presence is requested in Lord Ayato's office." the guard locks eyes with you. You want to groan in agony, you were hungry and tired but still you mustered a smile. " I'll head over right now, thank you." You say with a small bow. Once the guard exits you you finally let out a long groan looking to Thoma for support. "Can't you go instead, at least you can put up with his nonsense." You sigh exasperated.

After one particularly frustrating day of repairing both Lord Ayato's and Lady Ayaka's training wear entirely and aiding another with mending their Shinai Practice Swords (The bamboo ones, commonly used in kendo??), which were almost beyond repair. You find yourself once again in the kitchen with Thoma going on and on about the day before a dreaded guards men enter.

Thoma chuckles. "I believe a 'Miss' was summoned, I'd be scolded if I showed up, besides I'm cooking. Unless you wanna deliver food to the entire staff and the Lord and Lady." You wrap him lightly on the back of his shoulder. " Fine, but if I wind up dead it's your fault." You joke. You excuse yourself and exit the kitchen; then head for your doom, Lord Kamisato's office.

You stand outside his office, the dimly lit Shoji (those paper sliding door things?) showing the silhouette of menace himself just waiting for you. "(Y/N) here My Lord." You grit your teeth. "You may enter." You can almost hear the sadistic smile in his voice. Sliding open the door you're immediately confused on why you are here.

Ayato looked right as rain, clean and on top of that his office looked organized and practically sparkling (you'll have to thank Thoma for that later), boba tea full, and a small before dinner snack fully eaten. What more could he need at this hour. "Ah yes, Miss (Y/N)" his eyes lock with yours. "I've seemed to have spilled ink on my clothes. I need them cleaned immediately before dinner is finished." Though the room was dimly lit, you could clearly see there was no ink anywhere on Ayato's clothing.

"My lord I don't-" before you can even finish getting the word's out, Ayato takes the ink on his desk and proceeds to dump its contents all over his clothing. All the while that signature sadistic smile plastered on his face. You face contorts, you try to conceal the seething hot rage from pouring out of your mouth. (Un)Luckily Ayato speaks first. "I'm sorry you were going to say something? Go ahead, I apologize for my clumsiness."

Your mouth opens but you quickly close it. You're dumbfounded. His informal attire is mostly white, similar to his training attire, getting ink of that amount out in such a short amount of time would be nearly impossible. As you continue to stand there in silence you can see Ayato absolutely blossom with happiness.

A few more seconds pass until you collect yourself enough to speak calmly. "I'll fetch you some other clothing to change into while I tend to your..." Your eyes narrow at him. " Accident. " Words laced with venom at the end. He nods, smiling. " Go ahead, I'll be right here. Do be quick though, I hear ink is a pain to get out the longer you leave it. " He smirks.

You bow rigidly before bolting out the door to his quarters to grab him some fresh clothing. Returning to the lion's den, you announce yourself once more. "You may enter," Ayato calls out again. Sliding open the door he promptly stands up this time.

You don't say a word but hold out the clean clothes to him. "My my, that was fast." He smiles. You don't answer but begin to turn to exit so he can change in private. "No need to be so shy. You're practically one of my retainers at this point. "

You quickly turn around deciding to face the door instead of him, face red with embarrassment this time. You hear the rustling of the rest of his clothes. After a few awkward quiet moments with your thoughts filled with annoyance and somehow Lord Ayato's bare chest and perfect stupid abs, he finally speaks again. "I'm dressed." You pivot to see him again, back in pristine condition, however not bothering to pick up the ink stained clothes off the ground.

Retainer??? Since when? Where's your pay raise? That's all that runs through your mind as you stare at him dumbfounded. You don't realize until you snap out of your train of thought Ayato has already started stripping, his bare chest on full display. "Miss (Y/N) I don't mind if you watch, but watching me so intensely is unnecessary." You didn't think that smirk could get any bigger but it does.

You let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding in and kneel to grab the stained clothes scattered around his feet. You go to grab a sleeve and the bastard has his foot still on the article of clothing. Giving it a little tug as a hint to move, Ayato simply looks down at you with a smile. "Oh my apologies, didn't realize I was standing on it and hindering your precious time to get those pesky stains out." He steps out of your way and plants himself back to his desk. Asshole is all that runs through your mind as you gather the clothes.

Once again you quickly excuse yourself and rush to the medical bay to grab some balls of cotton and rubbing alcohol. Storming back into the kitchen you decide you need to get this frustration out and combat this stain at the same time.

You definitely startle Thoma as you slide open the Shoji with little to no care of its fragility. "Listen I'm sorry, Lord Ayato is fucking awful." You say holding up the stained clothing to accentuate your point.

You recount your encounter with the Lord of the house to Thoma all the while desperately scrubbing the ink out with the rubbing alcohol. "He's a sadist Thoma, he hates me I'm sure of it. Why on earth would he do this." Thoma turns to the area of the table you're vigorously scrubbing at ,now almost finished with dinner at this point, offers you a pot of cold water and soap to help you finish cleaning the stain. "That's just Lord Ayato, and hey maybe it was a genuine mistake." He shrugs. "Thoma, I saw him pick it up and dump it on himself."

You move over a bit to let Thoma work his laundry magic. Taking the garment from you, which was now almost its original color, he washes it in the aforementioned cold soapy water. After some more scrubbing he pulls it out. Looking as radiant as it did on Ayato before he went and soiled it. "Thoma I'm sorry for roping you into this... I appreciate you." He smiles nudging you softly. " Stop that, you'd do the same for me if I needed that level of help. " You're glad Thoma is always here to save your ass.

"I may have done the best I can but it won't dry before dinner, since I'm almost done with it." You grab your Anemo Vision and wave it in front of him and he lets out a 'Oh yeah...' before he smiles radiantly. "You got this then, dry it quick and as soon as you're done I'll serve dinner. Hopefully that'll buy you a bit of time. " You bow to Thoma, thanking him profusely. You exit the kitchen before running to the courtyard to swiftly dry the Lord's clothes with a little help from your Vision.

After making quick work of drying the clothes. (Thank you Anemo Archon). You inspect the clothes one last time and decide they are pristine enough for him. Carefully folding them, you proceed to slide down the hall to Ayato's office once more.

For the final time of the night you announce yourself. "Miss (Y/n) back so soon?" he says as you enter. His eyes narrow in on the clothes in your hands. "I'm more than pleased with your speediness. However, folding them will definitely crease them." You wordlessly unfold the clothes, gesturing to the creaseless stainless garments. "I see... Very well then, I will change after dinner."

His eyes light up again and you regret opening your stupid mouth. "Ah yes, Thoma should be along with my dinner soon. My arms are awfully tired from writing documents all evening..." There it is again that fucking sadistic grin. "Stay here and feed me will you?" You can't stop the words from spilling out of your mouth. "What? Why?" Clapping a hand over your mouth. He didn't like that, you can tell as you watch sadism on his face fade to confusion. "Because you serve under me and I'm telling you to do so."

Taking the clothes from your hands, Ayato purses his lips briefly as your fingers touch during the exchange. You grimace at him, typical of him to be disgusted by touching you even for a millisecond. You quickly rearrange your face before asking the dreaded question. "Can I help you with anything else my Lord?"

Right. You forgot. You're supposed to be like Thoma, a loyal dog who does what it's told. Maybe that's what you're supposed to do but this was an outlandish request. However, knowing the wrath of Kamisato Ayato, you flop yourself in the corner in defeat, not bothering to put up a fight. You press your knees up to your chest, glancing at Ayato's, once again, happy smirk. He too proceeds to sit back down, at his desk.

A heavy silence fills the room as Ayato resumes his work. You want to yell at him, kick and scream, but overall you just wanted to cry. You're so embarrassed for what's to come and your mind is reeling. The tears brimming your eyes burn as you try to continue putting on a strong front. You refuse to let this asshole see you cry.

Thoma must be taking his time because amongst the scribbling mixed in with silence you have a lot of time to think. You evaluate your position. You signed up for this, but did you really? A maid sure, but dealing with a sadistic brat? No, that wasn't in the job description. Or maybe that was the plan all along, maybe it just happened along the way? You weren't sure at this point and you felt bitter and defeated.

"Lord Ayato?" Your voice comes out horse. "Hmm?" He questions. "Why do you trouble me with the most torturous and utterly embarrassing tasks?" You stare him down. He looks shocked you dare question his authority. He opens his mouth to answer? maybe yell at you? But as if the Archons themselves are taunting you, Thoma announces himself. "My Lord you dinner is ready, may I enter?" Ayato fixes his gaze on you for a second longer than needed before responding to Thoma. "Thoma. Yes, you may enter." He answers

Thoma comes in hands full of all of the dishes Ayato requested tonight. He almost doesn't see you in the corner for a second but being the loyal retainer he is, the actual retainer of Ayato, he says nothing but shoots you a sympathetic glance. "Thoma, please let Miss (Y/n) help you with the rest of your food deliveries. I wish not to be disturbed the rest of the night." Ayato says using a voice he normally only uses when talking with other officials. It's cold, a lot colder than usual. The blood drains from your face and a knot forms in your stomach, you fucked up big time.

Three days. It was three days of terrifying tranquility, free of summoning from Lord Ayato.

Lady Ayaka assured you, as well as your job, were fine. The looming anxiety however had you on edge, you couldn't sleep fearing you'd be assassinated in the middle of the night. After all Kamisato Ayato hated being questioned, the only thing you were sure he hated more was you. Death would be the only solution right?

You were in the courtyard, it was evening and everyone was eating dinner. Thoma approached you gently tapping your shoulder. "Dinner is ready for you in the maid's quarters... But uh, Lord Ayato wishes to see you in his quarters before dinner." He says sheepishly. You groan looking to Thoma “If you don't see me tomorrow, assume the worst." You joke but deep down felt your stomach drop. It had been three days of not seeing him, who knows what kind of punishment you'd receive.

Thoma gave you a reassuring smile as you bid him farewell and headed from the courtyard to the personal quarters of Kamisato Ayato. It's not like you haven't been there before, but something still felt off about addressing your punishment not in his office but your room.

So there you were, standing in front of the looming door to the man who was about to decide your fate. You swallow hard before addressing your arrival. "My Lord, (Y/n) here. Thoma said you requested my presence..." Your voice came out a lot shakier than you'd like to admit. Frankly you were terrified. There was, what felt like, an eternity of silence before he finally responded. "Come in."

Your hands waver as you pull the Shoji door open. It was almost pitch black inside Ayato's room. He was sitting under a Kotatsu with his dinner finished. His eyes immediately fixed on you as you entered. "Miss (Y/n) please sit. There's something I'd like to discuss with you." Fuck. Your family will be so upset if you lose this job, what will you do for work, where will you live? Sure you hate Ayato but you for the most part enjoy your job and- No no no you can't spiral right now.

You suck in a composed breath and take a seat opposite him under the Kotatsu. "What is it, my Lord?" You ask meekly. He closes his eyes, sighing. "I.. You see.." He's uncharacteristically fidgety. "My sister has brought it to my attention that I've been causing you much strife lately." You want to laugh, lately he says, it's been since day one but okay sure. You grit your teeth. "As you said before, I serve under you. It's my duty, I suppose." You respond promptly. As much as it hurts your pride to admit you needed this job. You belong here and you won't go down without a fight. "I see." He says, sighing again.

" (Y/n)... You loathe me do you not?" He locks eyes with you, as if boring directly into your soul. " My Lord, of course not. I'm grateful to serve the Kamisatos." He shakes his head. " Miss (Y/n), from the moment you arrived here you've seemed to take a disliking to me. I'm just trying to understand what started it. Please be cooperative."

Huh? You? You're the problem in this situation? You know what fuck your job. "Kamisato Ayato, I do believe from the moment I arrived here you've made me do the most outlandish things and have, frankly, acted like a brat. If anyone hated anyone first it'd be you." You bang your fist on the table of the Kotatsu. "I'm a mere maid trying to make a living, not a babysitter or a toy for a spoiled noble's amusement."

He has the audacity to laugh. "I'm sorry I seem to be missing the joke here my Lord. Please share so I too can laugh at the very serious call concerns I just raised." You glare at him. He smiles trying to suppress his laughter. "(Y/n) no one has ever talked to me like that before..." You pause. You've never seen Ayato look so pleased in your presence before.

"Shamefully I'll admit, I enjoyed hearing your true feelings about me." He fidgets under the Kotatsu again. "For the record, I never hated you. I enjoy teasing you, and I'll admit I take things to an extreme. For that I apologize for the suffering I put you through." You're stunned at his apology. The head of the Kamisato clan apologized to you? " My Lord I..." Your words catch in your throat and all the anxiety built over the past three days spills out of your eyes. The one thing you swore you'd never do happens, you're crying in front of Ayato.

Instinctively Ayato rushes to your side of the Kotatsu kneeling next to you handing you his handkerchief. You take it and turn away from him as you try to repress your sobs. "(Y/n) I'm so sorry, I didn't realize... I..." He turns you to face him. His face is almost unrecognizable, maybe from the blurry vision of your tears, but his face laced with pure concern and gentleness. "I apologize for being so bold to ask but my I... Hug... You?" H u h? Your world feels like it's been turned upside-down. Ayato is being nice to you, and the craziest part is you kind of enjoy how it makes you feel. A half hour ago you would've never dreamed you'd be in this situation.

You cautiously nod and Ayato gently pulls your much smaller form into his chest. You sniff, still calming down from your episode. Ayato gently strokes your back. It sends shivers down your spine but you don't... hate it?? You're conflicted at this moment. A man who was once so cruel to you is now being the perfect gentleman.

While battling your thoughts Ayato fills the silence. "When my sister and I were young, she would often hurt herself by accident. While she cried, I'd hold her like this until she would calm down." You hum softly. You're unsure what to say. This whole situation feels like a twisted dream. You feel like any moment you'd wake up in your bed and the sinister Ayato you'd known up until now would return.

You glance up at him, his eyes are closed as he still is gently stroking your back. He looks peaceful, a small gentle smile on his face. You dare even concur he looks rather handsome like this. Your face turns red as you now realize the situation you're in. Kamisato Ayato is holding you. Even worse, you're enjoying it.

One of his eyes opens and peers down at you. His smile gets wider but remains gentle still. "Feeling better?" He asks. "I think so. I apologize for my outburst My Lor-" "Ayato..." "Huh?" "You can apologize but please use my name, not my title." You snort with a smile, there's the Ayato you know. "I apologize for my actions Ayato. For the record as well, I don't hate you either."

You pause for a brief second confused by your own confession, then words continue to spill out of your mouth. "I think I hated the way you treated me and just assumed you hated me. Besides you'd make me do silly things and would cause problems just for me to fix, making my life harder, it was frustrating but..." Ayato tips your chin up from his chest. You both stare at each other in silence.

Whatever rambles you had in your mind vanished and all you can think about now is how pretty his eyes are and how you never noticed until right now. Ayato leans down, your lips inches apart from his, you can feel the heat of his lips radiating on to yours. "May I be bold once more Miss (Y/n)?" You say nothing, you're absolutely frozen so he continues. "I think I did all of that because I'm positively enamored by you." Then closes the gap between the two of you, kissing you.

His lips are soft and as his hand moves from your back to your waist you find yourself kissing him back. It's gentle but tender, all that pent up rage for the man you once loathed melts and in this moment it feels like you two are the only ones in the world. He pulls away first. You stare at him, he looks positively breathtaking now. His other hand runs a finger over your bottom lip then joins his other hand on your waist. "If you hate it please tell me to stop, and I will." You shake your head. "Please... Continue."

His lips meet yours again this time with more passion. You wrap your arms around his neck and gently part your lips. Ayato takes this opportunity to deepen the kiss further, sliding his tongue gently into your mouth. His hands wonder about your body while he kisses you. You can't deny the sparks that follow in the wake of his touch.

You part briefly to catch your breath and Ayato uses this as an opportunity to explore your neck. You tilt your head to the side giving him more access. He chuckles softly at your action. "So responsive." He teases against your neck. "Please keep your thoughts to yourself and keep kissin-" He bites down on your neck leaving whatever grip you had planned to die in throat and gets replaced with a soft moan. He lavishes the bite with his tongue and you're positive that's gonna be a mark you'll have to cover tomorrow morning. He tugs at the corner of your kimono staring into your eyes asking for silent permission to continue.

Taking the hint you boldly slide down the shoulder of your kimono to let him continue. He smirks as continues his conquest from your neck to your newly exposed collarbones. Placing soft kisses on them while making quick work of sliding the top half of your kimono off, leaving the excess fabric to hang around your waist. The cold night air hits your skin leaving your exposed top half covered in goosebumps. Ayato reaches around to your back feeling for the clasp of your bra. "May I?" His voice comes out soft, filled with lust against the shell of your ear. "Please." You whimper. He skillfully unclasped the bra freeing your breasts from the confines. Instinctively you cover your, your face bright red with embarrassment with another realization Kamisato Ayato, your boss, is about to see your naked body.

Ayato wraps a warm hand around your wrist, planting a kiss on the inside of it. "If you're nervous we can stop here. If not..." His eyes wander to his bed, which is partially skewed from your vision due to the folding screen for Ayato's privacy sake. "No I want to continue... I just..." You laugh. "I don't want this to affect my job you know?" Ayato chuckles back. "I promise you it won't." You blush slowly unfolding your arms. "In that case..." He smiles, that's all the permission he needs and in one swift motion stands up and hoists your half clothes body over his shoulder, like you weighed nothing.

He takes a few steps and throws you on to his bed, one you've made many times before and one you'll probably have to make again after this. He takes advantage of you getting comfortable to take off his top. You're once again faced with Ayato's bare torso, this time you are able to ogle at it as much as you'd like. "You're staring again." He says with a smug expression, climbing on the bed now towering over you. "Am I not allowed to My Lord?" You quip back.

He raises an eyebrow and then you see that expression on him that you used to loathe, that sadistic smile. "I suppose I'll allow it tonight. I'll even do you one better." He once again grabs your wrists, this time places your hands on his bare chest, abs, shoulders. But Ayato being Ayato was in control of your movements Giving you the satisfaction of feeling his smooth skin but not giving you control to do so as you please. "Ayato..." You whine. He just laughs before releasing your hands and leans back down to kiss you again.

While kissing you his hands wander to your breasts giving them a little squeeze. You can feel him smile in the kiss when you let out a small moan. "Sensitive?" He asks. You nod in response, worried your words will betray you. His kiss trails back down your neck to your breasts this time. Taking a nipple in his mouth and biting and suckling on it you can help but cover your mouth and whine in pleasure. He takes his other hand and messages the other breast pinching your other nipple occasionally.

Your core was practically aching for friction at this point you wiggle your hips. Ayato's attention shifts again. "How cute.. Someone's needy." He says after releasing your breast from his mouth. He shifts his attention to untie your obi to get the rest of your pesky kimono out of the way. When he does you catch a glimpse of the sizable bulge in his pants. "I could say the same for you." You tease. "Can you blame me?" He responds as you lift your hips so you can let him discard your kimono on the floor. "Besides, your one to comment when your panties have a wet spot." He states bluntly as he slides off the bed dragging you by the hips to set you at the side of the bed.

Ayato plays with the waistband of your panties eyes once again meeting your asking for silent permission to go on. As if you would stop him now. He must take your silence for reassurance because he drags your panties down your hips and discards them somewhere with your kimono. He parts your legs and spreads your pussy open. "You're soaked..." He sounds breathless as he stares at your glistening hole. "Don't stare!" You protest as you attempt to close your legs, admittedly flustered. Ayato, of course, overpowers you by keeping you legs spread and plants a firm's kiss on your clit.

He takes his time eating you out. Making sure to tease all the spots he gets a good reaction out of you. Your grip on the beds' silken sheets will tear somehow. Ayato looks up at you making eye contact with you before sucking on you clit particularly hard. You almost cum right there. After a one more delicate kiss on your core he brings his fingers up to your mouth. "Suck on these for me please." He says. Instinctively you take his fingers in your mouth. The flush across his face as you tease the tips of his fingers is something you'll definitely be thinking about later.

Once Ayato decides you've soaked his fingers enough he gently pulls them from your mouth. You let out a whine and Ayato takes the opportunity to spread your legs a bit wider. "Oral fixation... Good to know." He teases. Taking his now wet fingers he gently prods at your damp fold locking eyes with you as he slowly inserts a finger into you. You bring a hand out to cover the guttural moan that spills from your mouth.

Ayato looks up at you, eyes boring into yours. "You better keep your voice down, we don't want the entire estate to know I'm giving my 'disobedient maid' a punishment. " He winks, and you click your tongue at him. Ayato quickly slides another finger into your hole before you can come up with something to throw back at him.

Ayato scissors his fingers, opening you up for him. You feel close, that all too familiar high. "C.. close" is the only thing you can muster without being too loud, you were just so sensitive. He smiles sinisterly at you, rudely ripping his finger from your aching core. "Not yet, I want you to cum with me inside you." He bashfully explains. To think Kamisato Ayato is blushing, you still honestly can't tell if this is a fever dream or not.

While in your own thoughts Ayato shed the rest of clothing and you finally get to see his cock. It's definitely not going to fit... He's going to split you in half. You move to get off the bed to 'return the favor' but Ayato stops you. "Next time... I need you right now." Pushing you back down on the bed he grabs some oil stashed under his bed and lubes up his dick. Pumping it a few times for good measure. The anticipation is gnawing at you, as he runs his length in-between your folds.

You open your mouth to tell him to hurry up, but his lips catch yours and he inserts himself into you. Ayato takes, what would have been an earth shattering groan, from your lips as he lets you adjust to his size. Pinning your arms above your head he peppers your face with kisses as your pain slowly morphs into pleasure. Eventually the pain stops and you relish in the feeling of being full, the glee of that gets old pretty fast and now all you want is Ayato to rail you into high heaven.

You wiggle your hips as a gesture to show him you're ready and he smiles down at you. "Use your words... Ask me what you want." He's a fucking sadistic asshole. "Please?" You whine. "Please what? (Y/N), you always have something to say, why are you so shy now?" You hate him, tears of desperation fill your eyes. " Ayato please fuck me, I need you to fuck me. I can't-" You choke back a moan as Ayato slides all the way out of you and rams his dick back into you. He buries his face into your neck. "Good girl." He praises before leaving yet another hickey you'll have to cover later.

He sets a steady pace snapping his hips into yours. You can only imagine how fucked out you look right now. Ayato looks like an Archon himself above you, his furrowed brow and the sweat glistening on his forehead. To think you hated this man a few hours ago... Now look at you, completely at his mercy. The soft grunts he lets out next to your ear you wish to engrave in your memories forever.

Ayato hits that spot inside you that makes your vision blur and you can't suppress the whine that spills out this time. "Ther..Fuck...There!" Ayato hones into that spot, causing you to fall over the edge. He gently thrusts in and out of you helping you ride out your orgasm. With the combination of your soft whines and how tight your climax made you, he pulls out and comes all over your stomach.

With no strength left Ayato collapses, gently, onto you. "Noooo" you whine weakling. " My stomach is a mess now you're messy too." "I'll call for a maid to bring me a towel." You smack him and he laughs, rolling off you. He pushes himself up off the bed and grabs a small towel from a drawer. Gently tending to your cum covered stomach before attending to himself. You curl up on his bed, as you watch him as he grabs your clothes along with his. "So next time huh?" You smirk. "Pardon?" He freezes for a moment. "I owe you one, so you know... This doesn't have to be a one time thing." He clears his throat. "I wouldn't be opposed to that, I suppose."

You push yourself up to grab your clothes from him but immediately regret it as every muscle in your body refuses to cooperate with you. You fall back on the bed Ayato chuckles softly. "Rest for a bit before leaving... Leaving too hastily will definitely cause more suspicion than leaving now anyway... " He lays back down on the bed pulling your body into his. "I didn't take you for a cuddler My Lord." You joke, followed by a yawn. He laughs, stroking your back just as softly as he did when you were crying. "Rest for a bit. I promise I'll wake you up in a bit." You nod sleepily into his chest. "Just for a bit is fine." You mumble before drifting off to sleep in Ayato's arms.

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OH MY GOD I FINISHED IT HAHAHAHA GET ABSOLUTELY FUCKED PAST ME. If you read all of this I both sincerely apologize and thank you for reading my self serving fic. I hope you enjoyed it even a tiny bit.

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