peachcloudss

[xcarg0t-stuff]

"Far from eachother, but never apart."

Plants references from left to right: Scadoxus multiflorus, Nymphaea caerulea, Acmella oleracea, Petunia, Lophophora williamsii.

The two rocks are a obsidian and crystal quartz. Two rocks that are consider beneficial for the garden (at least that's what gardening blogs told me).

[engie-ivy]

(Vacation fic because I'm currently on vacation!)

584 words

Remus is allowed to be a little foolish; he's on vacation after all, and he can lose his head a little over the gorgeous host of their chambre d'hôtes.

Chambre d'Hôtes Host

“How was everything?”

“Just great, love,” Hope replies, dapping her mouth with her napkin. “Simply lovely. You spoil us, doesn't he, Remus?”

“Y- yeah,” Remus stammers a bit once he's faced with the blinding smile of the incredibly handsome host of their chambre d'hôtes. He chuckles awkwardly. “I'm afraid the croissants and baguettes back in Wales will never be good enough for me anymore.”

Sirius grins. “That's how I get you to come back,” he says teasingly.

If Remus were a more self-assured man, he could almost convince himself the other man was flirting.

“So,” Sirius asks. “What are the plans for today?”

“We're planning to go to Vaison-la-Romaine,” Hope answers. “Visit the market and walk around the ancient town.”

“Lovely,” Sirius says. “Let me give you some addresses of good places to eat, and a patisserie with the best selection of pastries. Do try their financiers. If you say you're friends of Sirius', you might get a discount.”

“Thank you, love. You're such a dear,” Hope says.

“Anything for my favourite guests,” Sirius replies with a wink.

It would be foolish of Remus to think the wink is mostly directed at him. Sirius is just playing the perfect host, charming his guests, and being very effective at that, as Remus is well and utterly charmed.

But hey, Remus is allowed to be a little foolish; he's on vacation after all, and he can lose his head a little over the gorgeous host of their chambre d'hôtes.

“You have to forgive an old woman for her curiosity,” Hope says, as Sirius comes to refill their wine glasses that evening. “But how did a Londoner end up hosting a chambre d'hôtes in a chateau in the Provence?”

“Well, I was studying Business and Economics in London,” Sirius replies. “And I did not even know my family had this chateau in its possession, but then my uncle passed away and he left it to me. I traveled here after I finished my first year of studying, with the intent to sell it in hopes I could use the money to maybe buy a two-bedroom apartment in London.” Sirius laughs like the idea of trading in the chateau and its sprawling garden with attached vineyards for an apartment in London is just ridiculous, and quite frankly, it is. “But when I stayed here for the summer, I fell in love and I never left,” Sirius shrugs.

“Oh,” Hope rests her chin on her hand. “Do you run this business with your partner?”

Remus both curses and blesses his mother's curiosity.

“With the chateau,” Sirius quickly says. “I fell in love with the chateau, the villages and the surroundings. I fell in love with the overall ambiance of this place, not with a person. I'm single.” His eyes briefly dart over to Remus. “Very single.”

“You can really imagine it, can't you?” Hope sighs, as Remus joins her on the attached balcony of their room the next morning. She's looking out over the rolling hills with their scattered vineyards, and the village in the distance of which the houses are slowly painted golden in the first light of the rising sun. “Coming here, falling in love, and never leaving.”

“Yes,” Remus replies, but when Hope looks at him, he isn't looking at the beautiful view over the hills at all. Instead, his gaze is fully fixed on Sirius down below, crossing the garden carrying a basket of bread, his dog happily trailing behind him. “Yes, I really can.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Late night talking

Look... I caved in and that conversation with @brekkershadowsinger at 1am really got the brain going. So here's a little Pedro piece...🫣

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It was rare for you to have a day all to yourself. Life always found a way to keep you busy. If not work, then your studies, and the other way around. Then juggling a somewhat social life. As it was, that wasn't your strongest attribute. But you had Pedro to save you there. In the year that you two had been together, he had learned to read you like the back of his hand. Well, it didn't even take him a year to do that, to begin with.

Sometimes it seemed almost bizarre how quickly Pedro would understand what was on your mind or what you needed. You didn't need words. It's like Pedro just knew. You've never met a person who listened and genuinely cared so much. Sometimes you would just be waffling around, telling him something completely random, and the next day Pedro would be there asking you about it. And you were there with big eyes and a slightly open mouth, not expecting him to have any recollection of that conversation whatsoever.

A relationship you had before Pedro left you completely broken and made you want to give up on love. You lost hope in the concept of a relationship. It saddened you because you truly wanted to fall in love and society had twisted something so beautiful and made it wilt like a flower. But Pedro was a true romantic. It went beyond him opening the door for you or pulling out your chair. He understood what boundaries were. Something a lot of men struggle with nowadays. He took time to get to know you and ask what things you were okay with and what made you uncomfortable. A no meant a no. Without any further questions besides if you were okay. It was hard not to fall for him. And if Pedro fell first, you fell harder. From just casual dates and coffee runs, you found yourself dancing around in Pedro's kitchen at one in the morning. Laughing as he spun you around. Murmuring the words of a Spanish song you didn't understand.

The sound of the keys clattering made you lift your head from the book that you'd been reading. The weather in New York was pretty crap today. Well, crap for people who had to go outside, but a lovely addition to the cozy ambiance you had created in your shaded apartment. "Carino?", Pedro's voice echoed through the hallway, instantly making you giddy. It was almost embarrassing how you still got butterflies after a year of being with him. He still managed to make you blush just the same. "In the living room", you called out for him, and soon the sound of footsteps came closer and closer. Pedro's face broke into a huge smile as his eyes landed on you.

To Pedro, this was also new. He didn't believe that he would get to fall in love, let alone fall in love this hard. But the moment he saw you, he just knew. Knew that if he did nothing, he would blame himself for the rest of his life. Bella, of course, only added to this. When Pedro, in true teenage boy fashion, had shown them a picture of you after gushing over how incredible you were for days, Bella had nagged Padro for not messaging you yet. Then snatched Pedro's phone, typing out a quick hello and asking how a coffee date sounded, before handing him the phone with a very pleased smile. Now Bella took great pride in being a part of getting you two together.

"Well, hello there, aren't you all cozy", Pedro stepped closer to the sofa, and you instantly stretched your arms out, inviting him into your embrace. Pedro quickly shrugged off his jacket before moving to lean into you. "Hi, handsome. How was your day?". Your fingers moved through his slightly damp hair, which had gone rather curly because of the humidity. Pedro only hummed in delight, "Now that I'm here and you're doing that, I'm in heaven", you let out a breathy chuckle. Your nails scratched his scalp ever so slightly, and you could feel the tension of the day leavening his muscles as Pedro slowly turned into a puddle.

"You fancy a bath and some food? Made your favorite", but Pedro only wrapped his hands around you tighter. The past few weeks, with The Last of Us airing and The Mandalorian Season 3 starting soon, have been hectic. You barely saw each other even if you lived in the same place. Pedro left before you were awake and got back late into the night. You could tell that Pedro was enjoying the success and the excitement of the fans, but the exhaustion was just as visible.

"I would fall asleep in a bathtub", "Shower?", you suggested. Pedro murmured something, his hand slipping under one of his hoodies that you've been wearing. Cold fingers made you hiss slightly, but you didn't pull away. "Come on, up you go", You patted his back a couple of times, and Pedro let out a frustrated growl. "You better come with me, or else we're staying here", he argued back, making you roll your eyes. "I will join you, you big baby. Now move your cute bum".

You undressed each other slowly. Leaving light, fever-like kisses here and there. A shoulder. Chest. Cheek. Cupping Pedor's face to kiss him gently, you realized that you hadn't properly kissed him hello yet. You moved to finish folding the clothes as Pedro turned the shower on. You felt a hand sneaking around your middle, and soon Pedro was dragging you into the shower. You let out a surprised yelp, falling into a giggle straight away as the water poured over your skin. "You're sneaky", you said, leaning back slightly and pulling Pedro under the stream of warm water. "Only when I need to and mostly just for you".

You helped him wash his hair, but mainly it was just him holding onto you in silence. You wanted to ask him about the interviews and how Bella was because you knew that the two had met up, but Pedro was done talking for the day. After all, that's all he had been doing. So you held him closer to you, making sure to leave a couple more tender kisses over his skin. Pushing his wet hair away from his face and smiling at him fondly. You two had dinner together afterward. Chatting about little things that weren't work-related. You ushered him to the bedroom almost right away and laid down with him to make sure that he would fall asleep. Running your fingers up and down his back or his muscular arms till light snores were leaving Pedoro's mouth.

He looked so peaceful, finally. You realized how long it had been since you got to watch him sleep. Even if that sounded weird, he looked so fluffy and soft, all curled up by your side, hands loosely wrapped around you. You held Pedro for some time until you could see that sleep was not going to find you. It was still rather early, so as carefully as possible, you slipped from your lover's embrace and made your way out of the room.

Pedro woke up sometime later. He wasn't sure how much time had passed; all he could tell was that the bed was way too cold for his liking. Reaching out his hand blindly towards the other side in search of your body, he frowned when he found it empty. A dim light from the living room seeped from under the door, giving Pedro clear evidence of where you probably were. So he got up even though his body was fighting against it. You sat there with your head buried in the book. Hair messy, a big fluffy throw draped over your body. Pedro still couldn't believe how you managed to make his apartment feel like home. But then again, anywhere he would go would be home if you were by his side.

"Why are you here?", Pedro mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes as he walked closer to you. "Why are you up?", You lowered the book, moving your legs to make space for him if he wanted to sit down, as you looked up at your partner. Not expecting to see him here. "The bed got cold, and well, I feel robbed because I was promised cuddles", you chuckled to yourself. "My apologies, but the light seemed so bright in the room, and I still wanted to read."

Pedro looked down at the cover of the book in your hand, frowning slightly, "That's not what you've been reading this morning". You hummed, "Finished that one and started a second one", Pedro raised his eyebrows, his tired eyes barely staying open, "You read two books?", "Girl has to keep herself entertained, and I can't just watch tiktok of you all day long, cowboy", Pedro's lip curled up at the mention of that. There was something about you squealing every time you saw an edit of him that you liked. Maybe it was silly, but he liked that it affected you. He knew you loved him as he was, but this was that extra bit. That little something that would make him smile to himself. He was already yours, but you were still having little meltdowns over him.

"I vote for the second one", he mumbled, reaching for your hand, but you shook your head. "I still want to read a bit; I'll be there soon, I promise". Pedro glanced at the clock on the wall. It was two in the morning. Two in the morning. You barely ever stayed up this late. "No, carino, bed now, and I don't want to hear anything about it", leaning in, Pedro quickly wrapped his arms around you, playfully throwing you over his shoulder. You let out a squeal, hitting his back gently, the book still in your hand. "Put me down, Pedro, you'll hurt your back", you tried not to move too much so you wouldn't cause him trouble as he moved through the apartment. "You keep on wounding me, love. First, I woke up alone now that I'm old," Pedro said, shaking his head. You could hear it in his voice that he wasn't upset with you, but you still couldn't help but feel bad for leaving him.

Pedro dropped you onto the bed before making grabby hands at the book. You once again shook your head and Pedro gave you that are we seriously going to do this right now look. "Give it to me", "No", you pressed the book closer to yourself. "One more chapter and then sleep, please, P", you tried to give him the best puppy dog eyes. "It's two in the morning, darling," he said, "But I need to know if he fights for her and they finally come back to one another". Pedro sat down on the side of the bed, one hand casually resting on your lower stomach. "Baby, it is late, and you are tired", you pouted, rolling your eyes. Pedro used this opportunity to quickly snatch the book out of your hands, making you gasp as you tried to reach for it. With a victorious chuckle, Pedro put the book on the floor before quickly laying on top of you. Mindful of his body weight but making sure you were comfortably pressed beneath him.

"Never thought I would have to fight a book to get to my girlfriend", "You wouldn't have to if you let me finish it", Pedro lifted his head from your chest, "Yeah, no. I prefer this way more", his head plopped back down onto your chest, hands gripping your hips. He let out a satisfied sigh. "I just really need to be close to you. The head is so full of work stuff", he nuzzled his face further into the crook of your neck, "You make it less noisy". Your arms embraced him instantly, turning to kiss his head a couple of times. "This time, I promise I won't run away", Pedro let out a tired chuckle. "You better watch out, or I'm taking away your books", he warned, making you let out a gasp. "Sir Pascal, you wouldn't be so cruel", Pedro mumbled something close to trying me, but you didn't quite hear it. From the way the hold Pedro had on you loosened, you could tell that he was falling back asleep. "I love you, P", you muttered, fingers continuing to run up and down his back as you closed your eyes. The steady breathing of your lover lulled you into slumber.

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 15.

Summary: Oliver's first night and the next morning at Saltburn, and you learn that not only does he know more about you and Felix than you'd assumed, but he knows even less about the social rules of a place like this than you'd imagined.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, we finally get the basis of the consensual pervert/enabler dynamic between oliver/reader(/felix). its implications in this chapter but will probably get more explicit in future.

A/N: 4908 words. venetia catton is a menace to society and i am in lvoe with her. set up is being set up!! we're getting there, friends!!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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You wish you hadn't looked out of the window. You wished you hadn't cracked open the door to step onto the balcony. You wished you hadn't waited up.

Dinner had ended hours ago, and Felix was well and truly asleep, but you'd left your smokes on his balcony and had taken a break from going over the guest lists for the upcoming events that Duncan had provided you with. It was something you did every year, it helped calm your anxiety around these formal events, to be well versed on all the patrons in attendance, making everyone feel as though their place at Saltburn mattered, if only for a night. There was most certainly some deep, psychological root of your crippling social anxiety and fear of faux par and failure, but that was almost certainly a problem to investigate in the future.

The lilac study had been functionally unused since before even Felix had been born, sitting idle and untouched but beautifully furnished directly across from his room, on the other side of the long gallery, with a beautiful view of the gardens. It became unofficially your study many years ago, though sometimes Felix would use it too if he had some kind of Summer project he had to attend to. But now it was yours, set up with a bulky computer for the occasional emails from your family business that you were becoming slowly more involved in. Mostly, however, you spent your time thoroughly poring over these dossiers of guest lists with attached relevant information, committing all of them to memory.

After spending most of the day high, you felt guilty enough to get a head start on the Summer that evening.

But just before midnight you'd needed a smoke.

Oliver and Venetia painted so pale in the moonlight, Oliver half dressed and clearly ready for bed, Venetia with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders that you knew she wouldn't have brought herself. It doesn't seem to be a particularly deep conversation, but you think you can see Venetia smiling, and a smile like that can never mean anything good. Surely she'd told Oliver some pretty lie about why she was out there, but her room was on the other side of the house.

Oliver is unconventionally wonderful, and she is, and forever will be, Venetia Catton.

He will fall for her tricks, and you're sure part of her, just like her brother, just like yourself, would fall for part of Oliver's unsuspecting charms.

Just like she said she had with Eddie.

No, this was deliberate, you were sure; Venetia was playing this dangerous game again.

Retiring back to your study, you make sure to keep the door ajar to hear of anyone coming through the gallery. Saltburn is a creature that groans when you tread in the wrong places; you, like Duncan, had long ago mastered the art of moving around the house in total silence. None of the Cattons had ever felt it a necessary skill to learn. Oliver hadn't even been here a day. His footsteps practically echoed like drum beats.

"Everything okay, Ollie?" You shoot for casual, voice loud enough that you know he'd hear it in the quiet ambiance of the night, but that it wouldn't disturb Felix. The footsteps stop. There's no tell-tale creak of his door. Then, he moves towards you.

"How'd you know it was me?" Oliver, at your door, is shirtless. Oh. Right. Of course he was. He had been in the garden only moments before.

"I saw you downstairs," you say, trying to regain your train of thought. It's the easiest for him to digest, and most of the truth. He hadn't seemed to like the thought of you knowing his prescription earlier, even though you were just embarrassed to admit you'd stolen his glasses for a few days back in the first few months of meeting him, throwing enough money at an optometrist that they'd figured out his prescription from his current glasses. Right now you didn't want to tell him that you had spent enough time here that you could distinguish the Cattons from their staff, and distinguish each of the Cattons by footstep alone, and that Oliver's was so blatantly different to everyone else's that it was easy to deduce it was him. No, you don't say any of that.

"Oh," Oliver says awkwardly, shivering a little. Despite the heat of the day, it had cooled off considerably, "I spotted Venetia down there, I thought she might have been sleepwalking."

"Was she?" You ask with an automatic little smile, not wanting to give away how much you knew this to be Venetia's game.

"Said she was looking at the moon."

A sight you knew was perfectly visible from her own room. But you bite your tongue on that.

"So no?" You let the smile ease to something less robotic, something knowing, and Oliver sheepishly shook his head. Settling back in your chair in the lamp light, you look him over. Had he always looked so... you remember how he'd looked in the moonlight of your room and you have to look away, lest you get yourself flustered.

"Are you alright?" Oliver speaks up, taking a step into the study, finally letting himself look around. "Thought you'd be in bed."

"I'm meant to be," you admitted, "but I was getting ahead of this year's Summer schedule," you gesture to the book, and Oliver finally comes and joins you. He leans down over your shoulder, squinting at the pages, your shoulder pressed to his hip. He squints a little longer. Ah, "you're welcome to have a good look at it tomorrow," you offered brightly, pointedly not saying when you're wearing contacts and actually able to see, but Oliver thankfully seems to take the hint, even if he's still clearly awkward about the reminder. His hand then comes to rest on your shoulder, looking down at you and the way you're glowing in the gold light.

A moment passes; there's something on his mind, but you'll never push. Eventually it always comes out. It doesn't take long this time at least.

"Felix brought someone else to Saltburn, didn't he? Before; not just you," Oliver says softly, eyebrows knitting together. Fucking Venetia, you thought ruefully. Some of it must show on your face, because Oliver's hand comes up from your shoulders, thumb against the faintest scowl that has wrinkled your brow.

"What did she tell you?"

"Nothing really," he says faintly; while his expression is no longer concerned, there's something about the way he's watching you, cataloguing every small moment and movement of your face, each looking in your eyes, everything about you and your reaction that makes you feel... studied. Catalogued. Seen. You don't flinch away, don't move, just let yourself react, and let Oliver watch all the while. Then, after a moment, his hand is moving again, holding your chin, thumb running so gently over the curve of your lips, "called me lucky is all," he mumbled, as if transfixed by your face, by the way you're allowing this moment to go on, "said you didn't even like the last one." His words dip with disdain as he recalls what Venetia had said; what a snitch she was, you found yourself thinking.

"You need to be careful, Ollie," you tell him faintly, warning on your lips as you found yourself biting your tongue on a past that you don't feel is yours to really speak on. It was true that you had never been best friends with Eddie, but you were still rather fond of him. Even if that fondness was born from Felix's. Even if you were glad to be rid of him. Even if he hadn't even made it down the driveway before you were sending emails and worming your way into the Oxford administration usernet.

"Careful of the cold-blooded Cattons?" He asks, voice surprisingly idle, as if bored by the warnings, unphased by them. Where had his earlier trepidation gotten to, you wonder, right as Oliver gently caresses your cheek, "or should I be careful of you?" There's something in his voice that you're sure you'd only heard when he was looking up from between your thighs.

When you open your eyes, you find yourself meeting his curious gaze. The lamp paints his cool skin gold. One conversation with Felix and his hesitancy is gone. It's like you picked up right where you'd left off with each other before Felix's jealousy had awoken. It's actually a little infuriating, bordering on embarrassing, how taken you are with Oliver's quiet confidence.

After a moment in which you struggle to find the right words, Oliver actually smiles at you. It's almost condescending, like he understands the effect he has on you in these moments.

"Don't be jealous, pet," he tells you. Immediate, flustered shock flashes across your face before you can even stop it. But he doesn't tease, doesn't draw out the moment, he simply lets you breathe in and adjust to the moment, to his use of the nickname.

Saltburn creaks, the tell-tale noise of the old house settling into its foundation; Oliver, unfamiliar with the way the Estate echoes it's own, predicable, discordant melody of a night, looks to the door with sudden nerves once more. Something about his momentary uncertainty of his surrounds reminds you to breathe, to settle yourself like the house you practically grew up in.

You give a tired smile like it's all merely a joke, closing the dossier on the table in front of you.

"You should go to bed, Ollie," you tell him, voice nothing but warm and gentle, "we both should." Oliver ducks his head obligingly, stepping back from your seat to give you space, but still waiting patiently for you.

Once the lamp clicks off and the two of you are drenched in darkness, Oliver's voice cuts through the darkness as the two of you make your way to the lighter, long gallery.

"It must be nice being away from Oxford, being somewhere you don't have to pretend."

"Pretend what?"

"You know, the thing that's going on with you and Felix, whatever you want to call it." He says it so casually that you respond without really thinking. After all, he had a point; it's one of the many reasons you loved Summers at Saltburn.

"I don't even know the right words for it," after a long moment to think, you admit sheepishly. Then, moving to the long gallery that's still dimly lit, you look to Oliver with mild confusion as you fully process his words, "you... know?" Oliver, shirtless and in his pyjama bottoms, leans casually against his doorframe with a coy little smile. "How much do you know?" His smile grows wider; even from here his eyes look like they're shining with amusement.

"I don't think that kind of talk's appropriate for polite company," he teases, and you can feel your heartbeat racing. Sure you weren't careful at university, but you thought you'd at least convinced everyone it was platonic. Somehow.

"What- Oliver what does that mean? What have you seen or heard or -?" You babbled, flustered beneath his knowing gaze that suddenly burned with desire.

"Don't you want to be wanted anymore?" Is all he offered, simply wishing you a good rest of your night, slipping into his room. You're left flustered and speechless and honestly getting a little hot and bothered trying to figure out exactly what he was implying, and what he had seen.

Back in your room, you flick on the lamp on your side of the bed, trying to remain as quiet as possible as to not disturb the already sleeping Felix as you undress yourself, searching for your pyjamas. You're so in your head thinking about the encounter you'd just had with Oliver, trying to understand all the implications he left unsaid, that you don't even hear Felix yawning and shifting in the bed, half woken by the light.

"Hot," he mumbles after a long, appreciative hum, wearing a wide smile that would have bordered on leering if you didn't know him better. Actually, it was leering, but if anyone was allowed to leer at you it would be half asleep Felix, "this is perfect," he muses, pulling back the blankets to make room for you on the bed next to him, "you can stay like this; come here, don't worry about the pyjamas, no-one cares about them -" and you're more than happy to tuck yourself up against him like this. Pyjamas were more a habit than anything else, and Felix draws shapes on your bare back as you're both falling asleep.

Yes, you think to yourself as you're drifting off, it is nice being away from Oxford, being somewhere you didn't have to pretend.

The next morning you decide to chalk Oliver's boldness and implications up to the late hour, and don't feel the need to mention it over breakfast. Or, well, not all of it.

"Is there something wrong with the toast, pet?" Pamela asks gently across the table, her big, doe eyes boring into you where you'd been glaring down at your plate for the past five minutes. Venetia and Farleigh have been talking quietly together on Felix's other side, clearly comparing notes on Oliver already. Looking up at her just as the other two go quiet, you try and reassure her that everything's fine, even if your face hasn't quite gotten the message.

"Come on, shouldn't you just be happy that -" Venetia starts, but you cut her off before she can say something demeaning about either yourself or Oliver, knowing her too well to trust her mouth at any time of day, even over breakfast with the whole family.

"I am happy Ollie's here, Ven," you told her flatly, leaning forward to level an unimpressed look at her around Felix, "less thrilled about you being weird and coquettish outside my window," even though your façade doesn't show it, you're pleased by the pleased little cackle Felix covers with a sip of his drink, "do they not have the moon on your side of the house?" You snipe, and Venetia immediately rolls her eyes.

"See, I told you," Farleigh clicked his tongue pointedly, refusing to look at you in this moment, "possessive."

"Existing in my own home doesn't make me weird," Venetia gives a mean, humourless smile back, "and talking to our houseguest after he approached me doesn't make me coquettish."

"It does when you're doing it in that little, damn teddy nightgown and talking shit about me!"

"Christ, Vee," Felix sighed with faint disappointment. While your ribbing could be construed as playful or even jealous, Venetia always took Felix's negativity to heart. Not that he'd ever been able to tell that; Venetia always did well to hide her hurt behind further, thorny barbs.

"I wasn't talking shit," she sighed, terribly exasperated all of a sudden, "I just told him you were like one of those angry, little purse dogs Paris Hilton carries around," Venetia said without a hint of apology or remorse, "which of course makes Felix Paris -" Felix tears his slice of toast in half and jams both halves into Venetia's cup of tea without warning, causing her to shriek with absolute indignation.

"Felix, please," Elspeth sighs from beside Pamela, who'd all but leapt from her seat with shock, watching as two of the staff suddenly swarmed the flustered young woman to start cleaning the spilled, soiled drink from the table.

"'Felix, please'?" You huff mockingly under your breath before your best mate even gets the chance to be indignant for himself, "Venetia, please," you correct haughtily, though you're quietly glad that Elspeth has chosen to pointedly ignore you. However Venetia herself casts her gaze to you and Felix, both of you wearing near identical, childish looks of irritation, to which she responds in kind. Venetia sticks her tongue out at you both.

Pamela just watches Venetia's poor teacup despairingly as it's whisked away. Elspeth sighs deeply, and asks if anyone had informed Oliver what time breakfast would be. It had slipped your mind, and judging by the look on Felix's face, it had slipped his as well.

By the time Oliver joins you all, the tense atmosphere had disappeared, easing to something light and bright as you and the Catton family looked forward to the day, and to helping Oliver get properly acquainted with the Estate. During the discussion, the planning, you make a mental note to find one of the many beautiful books on Saltburn and the intricacies of it's heritage for Oliver to have a look at if he wanted to. While the idea of researching one's holiday home may not sound like the greatest idea of fun to most people, getting familiar with the house your best friend always took for granted made you feel like you understood it better, made you feel like you knew what you were settling yourself amongst.

"Y/N, dear, is that copy of Percy Bysshe Shelley's poetry still amongst your collection?" Sir James brings up, his eyes bright and wide. The book in all it's aged glory is sitting on your shelf in Oliver's room at that moment.

Very suddenly you're hit with a rush of affection, and the memory of a sweet summer afternoon, of being captured by Love's Philosophy written so simply on those pages. Those summer afternoons turned into evenings and the maze became the kind of magical only you could seem to feel, but that Felix would always indulge you in. Oh. You had to bring Oliver along, see if he could feel it too.

"Yeah," you cleared your throat, giving Sir James a smile across the long dining table. He seems delighted, apparently having read Percy Shelley's biography not to long ago, and has since wanted to reacquaint himself with the poet's work. For a moment, Venetia lights up with genuine interest and intrigue; for as long as you'd known her, she'd shared her father's passion for history, both harbouring a peculiar fascination for the sordid private lives of prominent creative figures.

Several years ago, Venetia had gifted her father the biography of Howard Hughes for Christmas; the following year, Sir James had pulled enough strings to get them both in attendance as VIPs for The Aviator's world premiere, the film based on that very same book. Venetia says the best part was meeting and having drinks with Leo DiCaprio; the only photo that she got properly printed and framed from the premiere, the one of her and her father beaming, says she's lying. They still spend hours in the library together when James isn't working. Venetia almost seems to be relaxed in those moments, from what you'd observed.

Oliver is back to being his quiet, awkward self when he finally makes it to the table, all fidgeting and uncertain steps towards the only empty chair at the table. Venetia lights up a cigarette as a new teacup is placed in front of her, both she and Farleigh observing Oliver's every movement with anthropological curiosity. So, instead of looking at either of them, Oliver looks to you, giving an almost nervous smile as he sits gingerly.

The mood is almost cripplingly uncomfortable.

Oliver tries to order a full English breakfast; Duncan looks like he'd just called his mother a cunt to his face.

The second hand embarrassment at the failed formality makes you feel like you're seconds away from some kind of empathetic anxiety attack, so you jump to your feet as the rest of the family act like they really live in a reality where every other person knew every secret high society script they were born knowing. They recover, but not quick enough for Oliver to not be tense, nor for you to not have made your way to the breakfast table on the side.

"Breakfast is on the side, darling," Elspeth says with an almost forcibly bright air, but falters as you call out that you've got it.

"You don't need to do that -" Oliver mumbles awkwardly, but is cut off when Venetia starts actually barking at you with a wide, mean smile.

This time, Felix picked up one of the cooked tomato halves from his plate, squishing it in his hand over Venetia's new cup of tea, letting the pulpy remains splatter into her now second ruined drink that she couldn't cover fast enough.

"How would you like your eggs?" Duncan ignores the petty siblings as the poor service staff once more whisk away Venetia's teacup, much to her exasperation. Oliver looks to the butler nervously, wondering if this was a joke or a test, assuring him that he could get them himself, but it's Farleigh who cuts in, voice like ice.

"The eggs are made for you," he explains coldly, barely looking up from whatever he had been working from, but his gaze flicks from Oliver's nervous expression to you, over his shoulder, carrying a plate loaded with food and scowling at him and his tone. Finally, convinced that it wasn't a joke, Oliver awkwardly asks for fried eggs from Duncan, who complies, and simply seems glad that the interaction had ended. When you put the plate down in front of Oliver, he glances up at you, almost looking apologetic.

"You really didn't have to -"

"I know," you responded cheerfully, giving his shoulder a squeeze, "you can get yourself breakfast for the whole rest of Summer, but it's your first day."

"You're very kind, very good to me," Oliver looks up at you through his lashes, blue eyes shining, grateful, stumbling through his words, "you- you're very good." For just a moment there's a flash of something more deliberate in his eyes that the others don't seem to see, and he watches the way the praise hits you with intent.

"Oh my god," Venetia groans across the table, "it's like you want me to bark at you -"

"Venetia, I have more tomatoes," Felix warned without even looking at her, but pointing sharply to emphasise his words. You thanked him airily as you returned to your seat and he beamed at you while his sister called you both terribly childish. She did not appreciate being reminded that she was the one barking in the first place.

It's Felix who breaks the tension to tell Oliver about the earlier discussion about the Percy Shelley biography, but it's Venetia who brings up the story of the poet's doppelganger. As she regales them all with the story of the housekeeper seeing the image of Shelley waving at him out of the window before realising the poet was in Italy and he was on the third floor, she tells it as if it's simply some scandalous gossip. Felix Catton, in possession of something of a rabbit heart when it came to anything remotely spooky, begged his sister to stop, even going so far as to cover his ears, but she seemed to enjoy getting under his skin, blithely ending the story with the housekeeper drowning only hours after the event.

While Elspeth announces that the story gave her goosebumps, and you admit it did send a shiver down your spine, Farleigh blurts out, without looking up from his notebook -

"I heard he fucked his sister."

While Sir James clearly didn't appreciate the addition, it's surprisingly Oliver who finds his voice.

"I think that was Byron."

The certainty of the correction is enough to get Farleigh to actually look up from his work. That's not how this was meant to go, at least that's what you think is on Farleigh's mind. Very rarely was Farleigh corrected at Saltburn; either the Catton's weren't as well researched on whatever he was spouting nonsense about, or they simply didn't care, but the point is Farleigh wasn't corrected at Saltburn. Farleigh could get away with the little white lies he told for fun here. He certainly wasn't fact checked by a newcomer at breakfast with the whole family.

When Oliver looks away from Farleigh, across to you and Felix, he sees the near identical smug little smiles you're both giving him. Both of you look rather pleased, and you see him almost grow rather flustered across the table. At least until Duncan sets a plate of fried eggs down in front of him.

Oliver's face falls, fork prodding the warm, gooey yolks almost like he's cautious of them.

You're back to watching, to observing and cataloguing further information about your guest. Runny eggs make Oliver sick; he looks it too, or perhaps that's simply the discomfort that comes from knowing he'll have Duncan's intense presence looming over him to take away what he'd just so kindly brought. Skin prickling with discomfort and desire to help, despite knowing there was nothing you could do, you fidget and try to finish your own food.

"Think I might head down for a swim after this," you hadn't, but you needed to say something to break the silence. Venetia and Felix are both quick to jump on the idea with enthusiasm, and Farleigh reluctantly agrees, if only to not feel left out. Across from you all, Oliver's trying to make himself as small as possible as he works on the breakfast you'd brought him. Never assuming, always waiting for an invitation, even now - "you game, Ollie?" You grinned.

Of course he was.

All you could think about as you searched for your nice bathers was how different Oliver was from last night. Then, your mind wandered back to that conversation, to all he had said, all he had implied. Catching a glimpse of Felix, already ready in just his swim trunks, towel slung over his shoulder, leaning and looking so effortlessly gorgeous and tanned already in the doorframe, you think of Oliver's implications. Clearly he'd seen enough of the two of you in private to understand the extent of your actual relationship, and considering the shit you got away with in public, and how both you and Felix admittedly couldn't be too bothered with things like closing the blinds when you have other things on your mind, you've got something of an idea of what Oliver may have seen. No, it wasn't appropriate for polite company.

But he'd slept with you, had seen and possibly heard you with Felix, and clearly had a thing for Felix himself. Why was he holding back? Why was he continuing to tease you the way he had last night? What kind of game was he playing?

Fine, if Oliver wanted to be a tease, wanted to play games, you could more than match his energy.

One of the many skills you'd picked up from a life spent next to the effortlessly attractive Felix, was learning how to put in the effort to appear effortlessly attractive even in comparison, in any situation. Of course you were hot, that was a given, but there was an art to the way you moved and smiled and behaved and posed and focused attention on yourself like it was a science you'd absolutely perfected.

Which is how Oliver, the last to arrive to the little, wooden jetty by the lake, found you laying out, glittering and glistening with water as the droplets clung to you, had your flattering bathers clinging to you in just the right way. Feet hanging over the edge, you arch your back just enough to tilt your head back, to watch him approaching upside down. Hands appearing casual, but carefully placed, one rested on your hip and lower belly, while the other reached out to give him a wave, your smile wide and sharp.

The others greet him, and though his gaze momentarily flicks to them, it always returns to you. Your back arches higher as you laugh, almost lifting you up to sitting, but you lay flat when he's on the jetty, when he's standing over you with a curious look.

"Hello gorgeous Ollie," you say with a teasing grin, "was beginning to get worried we might have lost you in there," you tell him, at least trying to look like you were trying to keep your expression serious, "its a big house."

"Are you high again?" He asks, and your smile grows all wide and sharp and amused. You shake your head.

"Why?"

"No reason," he says after a beat. Again there's quiet, apart from Felix and Farleigh squabbling over something trivial back on the grass. Oliver examines you, unashamedly letting his gaze roam down your body, the way you've displayed yourself so almost casually.

"Everything alright, Ollie?" You ask after a moment, reaching out to gently touch the side of his knee, contact, reminding him all at once to get out of his head, that this was reality. But your voice drops low enough that the others wouldn't hear, hand coming away, breaking the contact as you level a Cheshire smile at him, "is there something you want?"

Already it's worth it, since you see the exact moment Oliver realises what you're playing at. There's a sharp intake of breath, but an appreciative look in his eyes that quickly flick down your body once more. Then, he turns away, face quickly turning red as you all but cackle with glee.

The game has begun.

If all Oliver Quick could bring himself to do was watch, you'd put on a fucking show.

[girlnamedangel]

Amy was now well into her third semester of pregnancy, eagerly anticipating the arrival of her daughter. Despite the joy of this new chapter, her doctor had advised bed rest due to her high-risk condition. Each day, Amy found herself wrestling with nausea and exhaustion, making the days feel endless.

One particularly difficult morning, Amy lay propped up in bed, her body still feeling the effects of an unpleasant bout of vomiting. The room was dim, with the soft light of early morning filtering through the curtains. Sheldon entered the room with a tray of breakfast items, while their seven-year-old son, Leonard, followed closely behind, clutching a well-worn book.

Sheldon’s face was set in his usual determined expression, but there was an unmistakable softness in his eyes as he approached Amy. “Good morning, Amy. I have prepared a nutritious breakfast for you, as per the recommendations of our obstetrician. It consists of plain toast, a banana, and a glass of ginger ale. I trust these items will be suitable for your current state.”

Amy managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Sheldon. I appreciate the effort.”

Leonard, wearing a bright, hopeful expression, positioned himself beside his mother “Mommy, I brought your favorite book. Can I read it to you?”

Amy nodded, feeling her heart swell with affection. “Of course, sweetie. That would be wonderful.”

As Leonard began reading from his favorite storybook, his voice filled with enthusiasm and innocence, Sheldon busied himself arranging the breakfast items. He couldn’t help but engage in his usual playful banter with their son. “Leonard, are you aware that in order to properly understand the intricate nuances of this story, one must consider the historical context of the setting? Although, of course, you are doing an admirable job regardless.”

Leonard grinned. “Dad, you’re always talking about context. I’m just trying to make sure Mommy feels better.”

Sheldon raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ah, yes. Your compassion is noted, and I must admit, your attempts to provide comfort are commendable. However, if I may make a suggestion, perhaps humming a soothing tune might be more effective than merely reading aloud.”

Leonard thought for a moment and then began to hum Amy’s favorite lullaby. His small voice, combined with the gentle rhythm of the tune, filled the room with a serene ambiance.

Amy closed her eyes, savoring the peaceful moment. The contrast between Sheldon’s logical, methodical approach and Leonard simple, heartfelt gestures created a comforting cocoon around her. She could hear Sheldon and their son teasing each other softly as they shared the morning.

Leonard giggled. “Dad, you’re not very good at humming. You’re better at being funny.”

Sheldon countered, “I’ll have you know that my humming skills are comparable to those of a semi-professional choir member.”

Amy’s eyes welled up with tears of gratitude. She whispered to herself, “Even though this pregnancy has been so difficult, having Sheldon and Leonard here to take care of me makes it all worth it. They’re everything I could have hoped for.”

Leonard finished the story, and Sheldon, with a mix of pride and affection, adjusted the breakfast tray to ensure Amy could reach it comfortably. “If there’s anything else you require, please let us know. Our primary goal is to ensure your well-being.”

Amy reached out and took Sheldon’s hand, her voice barely audible but filled with emotion. “Thank you, Sheldon. Thank you, Leonard. I’m so lucky to have both of you.”

Sheldon smiled, his usual stoicism giving way to genuine warmth. “We’re lucky to have you, too. And just think, soon we’ll have another member of the family to share these moments with.”

Leonard leaned in to give Amy a gentle hug. “We’re all going to be a great team.”

As Amy looked around at the loving gestures from her husband and son, she felt a deep sense of peace. Despite the challenges, the unwavering support and affection from the men in her life made every moment of her difficult pregnancy worth it.

[sorry-moots]

Inversion of Genesis But I Changed It

i humbly toss my crumbs unto thee pigeons characters featured: scaramouche, childe/tartaglia, dottore cws: dottore is mildly creepy but when isn't he tbh wc: 1,102

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Chapter Three

The past few months working with Lord Scaramouche have actually been really nice.

He doesn’t yell like you thought he would. He’s only threatened to kill you once and he sounded sort of half-hearted? There’s never blood on his clothes or a predatory grin on his face. He doesn’t stand uncomfortably close to you to “monitor your progress”.

You like your new routine. Every morning at eight o’ clock, you come in and sort through the dozens of letters on your own. At nine o’ clock, Scaramouche comes in and the two of you put together his agenda for the next several days.

At first, you’d read through pages and pages of formal requests only for him to toss them in the trash less than five seconds after you passed them to him. Now, you call out a name and wait for his signal to discard the documents.

Sure, he scowls at every other question you ask but once he answers them, he goes about his business like normal. In the silence, the shuffling of papers and the crackling of the fire would often create a soothing ambiance as you both worked diligently.

Today, though, that routine is broken.

The guards outside could be heard speaking, which is odd in itself. In a moment, a knock followed the brief conversation.

“Go see who it is,” the Harbinger instructs without looking up from the stack of papers on his desk.

You’ve barely cracked the door open when Tartaglia forces his way in.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!” His energy is incredible for the hour. “I have come to personally deliver an invitation to a dinner party for the Fatui Harbingers to none other than the sixth Fatui Harbinger, Lord Scaramouche! The event will take place next weekend at 6pm in the Zapolyarny Palace dining room.”

Scaramouche perked up. “A dinner party? [Y/n] check my schedule.”

As you look for the date on your calendar, Childe asks Scaramouche if you’ll be his plus one.

The latter sneers. “Ha, what use would I have for a plus one? [Y/n], get this airhead out of here.”

You place a marker on the date on your calendar and walk over to Childe. “His lordship would appreciate your immediate departure. May I escort you out?”

“Why, yes, of course,” he chuckles. “You know, [Y/n], you can always be my plus one if ol’ Scarapoo won’t take you,” he finishes with a wink.

It’s hard not to laugh as Scaramouche berates Childe. Your superior looks to be ten seconds from chasing him out the door, but the redhead persists in pestering him. Though he would likely never admit it, you’re almost certain Lord Scaramouche is friends with his rambunctious colleague.

*****

“Don't look at anyone, don't talk to anyone, don't even bow your head at anyone,” Lord Scaramouche commanded. “You're just here to make a note of any important information.”

“Does that include you, sir?” you quipped back with a grin.

“Obviously not, you toad.”

Today is the day of the dinner. You're still in your uniform from earlier but you’ve styled your hair differently and shined your shoes. Even the notepad and pencil you brought were chosen to match your clothes, black with red accents.

Being the poverty-fearing wage slave you are, you heed your boss’s warning and do your best to avoid calling attention to yourself. No one really pays attention to you until you are greeted with a raucous shout.

“Hey, [Y/n]!” Childe yelled, waving excitedly. “What happened to being my plus one?”

You nearly responded but remembered that you weren’t supposed to speak. Instead, you turned and looked to Scaramouche for instruction.

“She’s here on official business,” he explained rather cordially before saying under his breath, “so don’t talk to her.”

Childe pouted before a mischievous grin made its way onto his face. “That’s okay, [Y/n], I’m sure Mouchie could use the fun.”

Once he left to mingle with the other harbingers, everyone went back to their own conversations and Scaramouche went to grab a drink. Apparently, they had his favorite sake.

Just as you were beginning to think you would be left in peace, you heard a deep, velvet voice behind you.

“So, this is why you ran off, [Y/n]?” Dottore prompted coyly. It was difficult to keep yourself from recoiling. “It’s been quite lonely in the laboratory… After all, I’ve only myself to talk to. Or rather, my selves.”

This time, you stayed quiet out of fear, not obedience.

“Oh, how silly of me,” he hummed in amusement. “My dear friend, Lord Scaramouche, forbade you to talk.

“Well, then.” He stepped in front of you and crouched to look at your face; you turned away from him. “I’ll do the talking.”

Just when you begin to feel tears pricking your eyes and your throat tightening, Scaramouche returns with his drink. He nods his head respectfully. “Was there something you needed to discuss with me, Dottore?”

The man smiled that smug smile of his. “No, no, not at all, Scaramouche. I was just telling our darling [Y/n] how exhausting it’s been working in the laboratory since she left.”

“I’ve found the new arrangement to be quite agreeable, even considering my own shortage in staff. If I recall correctly, I have one of the smallest forces under my command,” he remarked with all the uncertainty of a professional gambler. “Much smaller than yours, isn't that right, Dottore?”

The Doctor's face became a cloud of darkness and thunder, ominous as the end times. Within seconds, the faux cheeriness beneath his mask is extinguished and then revived. “You’ve seen right through me, Balladeer,” he chuckled. “I suppose it's the loss of [Y/n]’s company that has caused me the most bereavement.”

“That's tragic, Dottore, really,” Scaramouche said in a voice that almost sounded sympathetic. “I, too, have grown rather fond of her, so I can't imagine what losing her would do to me. I’ll just have to safeguard her from the other harbingers,” he continued to mock. “No hard feelings, right, Doctor?”

“Of course not, Balladeer,” the harbinger gritted through his teeth. “I can hardly fault you for something I would have done myself, had I thought it necessary.”

At this, Scaramouche beamed and jokingly told the other harbinger to back off. The Doctor finally leaves and you breathe a sigh of relief.

You open your mouth to speak, but Scaramouche beats you to it.

“Don’t thank me. That guy pisses me off.”

He starts moving in the direction of another harbinger and, as you follow him, you can’t help but smile and thank the Archons he’s your superior.

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[burning-academia-if]

hi!

could we get either 3. full of colors or 6. falling leaves for Beck? i’m very soft for him and he needs more love

Beck + Full of Colors! This is his consolation prize for being in last place in the popularity polls LOL

Brisk, morning air settled in the space between stalls. Vales Grove University was known for setting up a fall festival for the town every year, and it served as a way to remain in the people’s good graces. It was free for students and a five dollar entry for everyone else. Despite growing up here, you’d never actually thought about going until Beck had asked if you’d wanted to check it out.

            It was the weekend after midterms and with nothing else to do, you’d agreed. Even if you had been busy, you probably would have made the time anyway. With his disarming smile and gentle insistence you deserved a break, you’d easily agreed. Plus, there was nothing more comfortable then spending time with him,

            You’re early, but as you walk to the section of campus where everything is set up, you can already spot Beck at where you agreed to meet. A cardigan hangs loose on his frame, posture relaxed if not slumped with sleepiness. It’s present in his eyes too, which have the faintest droop to his eyelids.

            “Were you waiting long?” You call, and Beck blinks over at you as you approach.

            He raises a hand in greeting, the lingering sleep chased away by the warm smile which overtakes him, “Morning! I just got here a few minutes ago, don’t worry. You look nice—sorry if I’m not as put together I’m actually not quite a morning person.”

            “Don’t worry about it, you look fine.” A faint glow starts in your chest. You may have gotten up a little early just to make yourself look a little nicer then you might normally look so early in the morning.

            As for Beck, even in his disheveled state it’s hard not to notice the way his hair curls around his ears or the bright hue his dark eyes have taken on in the morning light. Especially when those eyes were only looking at you.

            “Have you eaten yet? If some of the booths I’m thinking of are here again this year, they’ll have the best breakfasts in town.” At the shake of your head, he starts to lead you into the actual thrall of booths and people.

            It almost feels like a different world as you enter. Smells of coffee and teas and pastries and incense all blend together into a vibrant scent. The chattering of people working the booths as well as the guests intertwine, and the distant sound of pseudo-folk music in the distance all creates a specific ambiance.

            Beck asks about classes and midterms and if you’d watched anything interesting recently. When you pass through more crowded areas, he draws close to you and places his fingers featherlight on your wrist as not to lose you. You think about being brave enough to take his hand fully, but you know Beck might see through any excuse you’d have about not losing him in the crowd.

            The place he takes you to, while crowded, is surprisingly less busy then you’d thought it’d be. There are little white benches around it, and the two of you sit across from each other as you share breakfast.

            “Is there anything you want to try first?” Beck asks, and you can only shake your head.

            “Since I’ve never been here before I’m not really sure.” You motion towards the food you both ordered. “But considering how great your choice of breakfast was, I’ll put my trust in you as a guide.”

            “I’ll do my best then.”

            After breakfast, the two of you stand ready to actually explore the festival now that you’ve eaten. Before you start to head out though, you hear Beck say, “Oh! Hold on a second.”

            “What is it—?” You turn, and feel the pad of his thumb against your cheek, close to your lips and you can’t help but freeze. You try to school your expression, as his touch lasts only a second, but you can feel the soft glow in your chest only start to burn brighter.

            “Sorry, crumbs.” He laughs, voice warm and unconcerned, as though the action didn’t just make your heart stutter for a second. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

            “No, you didn’t, it was just…” You try to find the right word that won’t incriminate you and finally you just shake your head. “Anyway, ready to go?”

            Beck lets you change the subject, and he once more takes the lead, “Sure, let’s go.”

            Everything you could imagine is here, and it’s a wonder how so much could fit into the space. It almost feels like the area grew somehow, just to accommodate it all. There’s shops and games and art activates. There are even a few rides, all are small and for kids, save for one. At the fair’s edge, is a Ferris wheel, as most fairs tend to have.

            Through your exploration of everything, the two of you ultimately end up here. There is a mild ache starting in your feet and legs from walking for so long, and the sun has risen high enough to indicate it’s late morning. Sitting down for a while, especially on a Ferris wheel set up to overlook the town from one side and the woods on the other, sounds like the best of ideas.

            “You want to go on?” Beck asks, noticing your gaze.

            You start to nod, but pause for a second. You remember earlier, his fingers against your wrist and cheek. Maybe this is taking advantage, but you pretend to hesitate and say, “I do, but I’m a little scared of heights…could I…”

            The last words get stuck in your throat, but he seems to know what you’re asking, “Would holding on to me help?”

            “Yeah? Only if that’s ok!” You say it as a way to backtrack or to offer an out. It sounds silly and a flimsy excuse, especially when you’re twenty years old now of all things, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

            There’s no teasing or judgement, “You can take it now, if you like.”

            Oh. He offers it and for a second you feel young in this well of feelings you have. You’d never been around someone soft, and you’ve never been treated softly. Maybe you feel so childish because you’re learning, for the first time, that you can accept something kind.

            You slip your hand in his and despite the autumn chill it’s warm. He twines your fingers together, and it feels easy. His voice is light, “Better?”

            “…Yeah, better.” The two of you get in line and you’re sure you look like any college couple in that moment and if you weren’t so content you might have started to dive into thoughts of what he thought of you or if this meant anything or if he was just being as nice as ever. But really, it didn’t matter.

            As the two of you slid into the cabin, painted in vibrant splashes of color, the two of you settle in together. Your hands rest in the space between.

            “Thank you for today. I actually had a lot of fun.”

            “Of course. I always feel at ease with you.” You’re glad you’re facing the window looking out. Beck’s thumb lightly brushes over the top of your hand. “I’m glad you had fun.”

            The cabin rises higher and from here you’re able to see the rest of the town. You’ve never considered your hometown anything special, but from up above, bathed in the spirit of fall, it takes your breath away a little.

            “It’s so pretty up here.” You press a little closer to the window without thinking, “I didn’t know it could be so…”

            “Full of color?”

            “Yeah!” You turn back around without thinking, only for to find yourself face to face with him. Beck hadn’t been looking at the town when he’d said that, he’d been looking at you. Any other words die on your throat, and his gaze which is normally so kind takes on a teasing edge.

            “I’m glad you don’t seem too nervous.”

            “Oh…I am.” And you are, but not because of the heights. There is something warming the air, warming the slim space between the two of you. Even so you don’t pull away and neither does he.

            His thumb continues to brush circles against your hand, a faint and constant rhythm, “Then just don’t let go.”

            “…I won’t.” His eyes become half lidded, and so do yours, and you can’t help but glance at his lips and hope for a second for a kiss you’d let him give you. Lightly, carefully, his free hand raises cups your face and when he whispers you’re name you can only nod other you’re not sure what you’re nodding to until a second later and—

            His kiss is as soft as he is. Your eyelids flutter closed, as you lean into him. It only lasts a second before he pulls away, but only just. His forehead rests against yours and his lips are still so close they’re a hair away from touching your own again.

            You breath, “I have feelings for you.”

            You can feel his smile, “I have feelings for you, too.”

            In that moment, you are full of color. It wraps around you and lights up the space and all you can think is how you want to keep this moment in a bottle and enjoy it for as long as possible. This bundle of warmth is everything you could have ever dreamed.

[iviarellereads]

Gideon the Ninth, Chapter 12

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Sixth House icon) In which something lost is found.

One morning, Teacher commends Gideon on fitting in, despite him having sat with her at some meals and knowing that she's definitely not. He's also said that he enjoys all the bustle, when he and Gideon were alone in the room.(1)

By now, Gideon has met nearly all the adepts and cavaliers, but all except Coronabeth and Magnus give her a wide berth. Still, you learn a lot, being silent. The Second House behave like soldiers forced into vacation. The Third seem to come together only because of Coronabeth's social gravity, like planets to her star. The Fourth are like ducklings to the Fifth. The Sixth and Seventh are never anywhere to be found. The Eighth duo, the uncle-nephew duo, Gideon sees only rarely, but that's more than enough, as they act like Gideon is contagious with something.

The corridor to the Ninth assigned living quarters is now garlanded with bones. Gideon left a note for Harrow asking what was with the skulls, and Harrow replied simply "Ambiance." That Ambiance means even Magnus hesitates to greet Gideon, so she wants to shove it somewhere uncomfortable.(2)

Dulcinea Septimus seems to spend all her time on various terraces, reading romance novels. Occasionally she spots Gideon and asks her to move a pillow or just to listen as she recounts the plot of the book she's reading. The sword is never again mentioned.

Gideon goes back to the training room often, even though she prefers to train by herself. She wouldn't need half of what she's done to join the Cohort, but she's always hoped she'd be rushed through and get sent to the front promptly with her skills and strength. Her fantasies about Harrow opening a letter detailing Gideon's medals and prize money and saying something like "Turns out Griddle could swing a sword after all" often get her through a hundred reps or more.

Still, no one can train every minute of the day, so she spends a lot of time wandering the Canaan House complex. A lot of places are blocked off, with CAUTION tape and crosses spray painted on blast doors. You can only go about fifty meters below the dock, and a hundred meters up. She doesn't get bored, exactly, the Ninth kills boredom out of one, but it makes her suspicious.

One morning, Harrow's pillow isn't freshly rumpled differently than it was the morning before, and there's no fresh layer of black clothes in the laundry hamper. Gideon makes guesses as to what might have happened.

1. Harrow had been prevented from coming home for reasons, e.g. that (i) She was dead; (ii) She was too impaired; (iii) She was busy. 2. Harrow had chosen to live elsewhere, leaving Gideon free to put her shoes on Harrow's bed and indiscriminately rifle through all her things. 3. Harrow had run away.

Gideon immediately dismisses option 3, because her childhood would've been MUCH smoother if Harrow were that type. 2 is exciting, but seems almost as unlikely. Harrow is too proper to let Gideon do up all the buttons on her shirts one button off in the wardrobe.(3)

This leaves only option 1. (iii) relies on Harrow being busy enough to forget to come back, which ties back into the dismissal of allowing for option 2. Harrow would never fail to account for Gideon's chaos gremlin-itude. (i) would be the world's happiest accident or murder, and if it was murder, what if the murderer was, like, weird, would that make Gideon's subsequent marriage to them awkward?(4) Maybe they could just exchange friendship bracelets instead.

In the end, (ii) seems the most likely. Harrow hasn't even used the paint supplies, and Gideon has never seen Harrow's naked face.

So it is that Gideon puts on her robe and starts searching. She finds Magnus in the chemical smelling pit room, supervising the skeletons cleaning it, with his trig and glossy-haired adept(5) but certainly no Harrow there so she darts back out before Magnus can finish greeting her. She's not on the terraces, or on the docking bay, or anywhere in the east wing.

At lunch, Gideon broods over her bread and cheese, and decides to give up. It's a futile task in such a large area. And really, it's Harrow's fault for being so secretive and controlling. She wouldn't even thank Gideon for finding her.

Only, by the time Gideon finishes eating, she gives up on giving up, and resumes the search.(6) She finds a door she can force open that she never tried before, leading to a staircase, leading to a precarious terrace, leading to another door, to a hallway, to a curious statue with no arms or head(7), in what may once have been a lobby with elevator access. Down a staircase in the corner of that room, she starts to hear another conversation.

Two people, the "Warden" and another, discuss whether something is impossible, or merely improbable. The Warden has scried the ages of some objects nearby each other, but one is nine thousand years old, and one is about fifty years old. The other voice protests that the limit of scrying is ten thousand years, but the Warden maintains that it's improbable that this object Gideon can't see is three thousand years older than this other object Gideon can't see.

"Inexplicable, Warden." "Certainly not. Like everything else in this ridiculous conglomeration of cooling gas, it's perfectly explicable, I just need to explic-it." "Indubitable, Warden."

The Warden decides that either the whole building was scavenged from a garbage hopper, or he's being lied to on a molecular level. There's something here, like in his fourth circle exams, when the masters seeded the core database with thousands of false records, to teach them a lesson: that you can't rely on anything, because anything can lie to you.(7)

By now, Gideon has snuck up close enough to see them. A rangy young man in a grey cloak, light glinting off the spectacles on his nose(8), and a tall, equally grey-wrapped young woman with a scabbard at her hip. Both are filthy, and twitchy. Unfortunately, Gideon has moved too close, and the sight of a painted skull face in dark robes in a dark corner can't be good for the heart. The cavalier stays absolutely still for a moment, then launches at Gideon, sword out. Gideon draws her arms quickly, and they fight. Gideon quickly realizes this is a true warrior, like herself, not a mere cavalier, and is exhilarated at their matched strengths, the cav even perhaps having a slight advantage.

The necromancer calls out "Camilla!" telling her to disengage. She does so, backing up toward her adept, who does something and makes a false flame wall between the two cavs until Gideon sheathes her rapier and puts up her hands in a ceasefire gesture.

The adept lowers the barrier, wiping bloody sweat from his brow, and chastises his cavalier lightly, then offers apologies to Gideon for the unscheduled bout but NOT for drawing on someone sneaking around in all black. Gideon wants badly to ask how the cav did a backflip down the stairs like that, but is asked if she's here about Nonagesimus, and the Sixth pair(9) read something into her blank expression. Face paint is great for masking.

The necro wrings his hands and asks if Gideon's seen Harrow since the night before last? Gideon shakes her head so emphatically she's surprised her hood doesn't fall off. The young man says she's cutting it fine. Harrow was down there(10) last night, and her blood is on the floor. Her intravenous blood.

At this clarification, something snaps in Gideon, and her body starts moving before the rest of her can catch up. She finds herself trying to lift the hatch, her arms embarrassingly not up to the task. The necro sighs explosively, tosses his bag to Camilla, and bemoans cavaliers. He says it won't open, because Harrow has the Ninth's key. This close, Gideon can see past his spaceflight-thick glasses to the perfect grey eyes behind them.

He had the eyes of a very beautiful person, trapped in resting bitch face.

Gideon keeps futilely trying to open the hatch, while the Warden explains that Harrow's blood hadn't dried yet when he saw it, so she's likely still close to life, and asks Cam to check the perimeter. She finds no sign Harrow left, so the Warden says she's still down there.

At this, Gideon finally breaks her silence and says "Then get off your ass and help me," and he sounds almost relieved when he says "Sure." Something flies through the air, and he fails to catch it, so Gideon gets a half decent look at a loop similar to the one she was given that first day, but with two keys on it. He picks them up, uses the longer one to open the lock on the hatch, and Gideon swings it open dramatically to reveal a ladder of metal staples in a long, dark hole.

Camilla points at the hole, and Gideon looks at her, again noticing her eyes which are not quite grey or brown, but unreflective and fathomless. Cam suggests Gideon go first, then Palamedes,(11) then herself.

At the bottom of the hole is a "retro installation" you'll have to read described for yourself. Palamedes leads the way, and Gideon notices that the sounds they make don't echo, are dulled by the paneling on the walls. There are signs indicating ten laboratories, a pressure room, preservation, mortuary, work rooms, and a sanitiser down various branches.

They head toward Sanitiser, and find blood smeared and splattered on the floor and walls. The trail leads inside the Sanitiser rooms, to a cocoon about the size of a person but made of bone. Gideon kicks it open to reveal Harrow.

Instead of the dance of joy she'd planned to greet Harrow's dead body with, she tells the Sixth she can take it from here. They ignore her, and check for life signs. All good, probably just some dehydration, a drop in blood pressure, and she made the cocoon (which Palamedes is absolutely fascinated by) defensively when she half woke up once, then went back to sleep.

Gideon asks if they can tell all that from Sixth necromancy. Camilla says it's not necromancy, just curative science. Doctor stuff. And Harrow can be moved now. Gideon slings Harrow over her shoulder, at which breath wheezes out of the tiny necromancer, and the cocoon shatters into chips and pebbles. Palamedes whips out a ruler and measures a piece of it before they leave.

At the top of the ladder, Cam takes Harrow's weight for a moment to let Gideon get out safely, then they close the hatch. Palamedes says she needs eight hours of sleep, in a bed not a library, and to tell Harrow she clinks when she walks if she asks how he knew she was in the library.

Gideon says she owes them one. Cam says they did it for free, and Palamedes agrees but asks Gideon to take some advice: it's dangerous down the hatch, and they should stop splitting their forces. Gideon asks how it's dangerous, Palamedes says if he knew why it was dangerous, it wouldn't be. Gideon doesn't understand this, and asks how he figures it. Palamedes replies, because he's the greatest necromancer of his generation.

The not-so-unconscious bundle on Gideon's shoulder mutters "Like hell you are."(12) Palamedes looks satisfied as he says he thought that would bring her around, and reminds Gideon: liquids and rest, and good luck to them.

=====

(1) This priesthood appears to have been alone here for years in isolation, Gideon, give them some credit. They probably do think Gideon's antisocial behaviour is social, and that having anyone new in Canaan House is a bustle. (2) Gideon would be so close to making actual friends if she could talk to anyone here. ;~; (3) Beautiful prank, no notes. (4) This may feel like a callback, but it's not. Muir's forming a habit of dropping you kind of in media res, in the middle or near the end of the thought, without showing you what led there. At any rate, this implies two things, imo: first, that Gideon would be so grateful to anyone who would rid her of Harrow that she might feel obligated to propose marriage in thanks; second, smaller, that Gideon still sees herself on some level as Harrow's property, as the spoils of war, belonging to the strongest, and that anyone who could defeat Harrow might win her as an object. Gideon undervalues herself consistently, and even her cocky thoughts are self-deprecating a lot of the time in the subtext. Just look at her comments about her ultimate fantasy being that Harrow might, one day, say she supposes Gideon could swing a sword in the correct direction. This series is like an onion on steroids. (5) Trig - neat and smart in appearance. (6) Again she says one thing and means the other. (7) Including the narrative. (8) Muir's watched some anime in her time, I see. If you're unfamiliar, TVTropes has you covered! (9) Remember, even if we weren't about to find this out for sure, the Dramatis Personae made this inevitable as we've met everyone else. Use every resource you have! (10) Presumably, down the hatch they're examining. (11) I used to pronounce this as "PAL-uh-ME-deez" in my head, but I guess the audiobooks say it closer to "calamities" because I heard it that way in a podcast of audio listeners and honestly I like it way more. One of these days, I'll convince my library to license the audiobooks on Libby, and hear for myself. Or get another free Audible credit trying to lure me back into a subscription I don't have because I don't listen to many audiobooks, and use it for this. Either way. (12) Nothing like being insulted to wake someone out of a half-coma.

[forsythiawrites]

Chapter 1: Sapphire Eyes

Alex

August 2023

Alex awoke to the soft glow of the morning sun seeping through the curtains of his spacious, modern condo. He stretched his well-toned body and let out a contented sigh, ready to face the day. At the age of 30, he had already accomplished what most people only dreamt of – he was the CEO of a successful tech company. His drive and ambition had propelled him to this position, and he was proud of his achievements.

With unwavering precision, he laced up his running shoes and set out for his daily jog. The rhythmic patter of his footsteps echoed in the quiet streets as he weaved through the awakening neighborhood, a solitary figure immersed in the serenity of the early morning.

Returning home, his breath visible in the cool air, Alex transitioned seamlessly to the next phase. A quick, refreshing shower followed, washing away the physical exertion, and preparing him for the day ahead. It was a transition from the raw energy of the outdoors to the refined ambiance of his professional life.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, each crease and fold a testament to his meticulous nature, Alex stood before the mirror. The suit, like a second skin, spoke volumes about his commitment to presentation and the importance he placed on making a lasting impression. It was a conscious choice, a daily affirmation of his readiness to face the challenges the world presented.

As the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the kitchen, Alex stood by the stove, spatula in hand. Cooking his own breakfast was not a chore but a deliberate act of self-sufficiency. The sizzle of eggs in the pan and the rich scent of coffee filled the air, creating a domestic symphony that harmonized with the rhythm of his routine.

Alex stood in the calm center of his morning routine. It was a ritual that went beyond habit; it was a philosophy of life, a compass guiding him through the complexities of the world. And as the morning sun climbed higher in the sky, so did Alex, ready to face whatever challenges awaited him, armed with the certainty that his routine would guide him to success once again.

***

As he entered the sleek, glass-walled building that housed his company's headquarters, he couldn't help but admire the sense of accomplishment that came with being the boss. His employees greeted him with respect and admiration, a testament to his leadership skills. With a confident stride, he made his way to his corner office with its stunning view of the city skyline.

But when he stepped into his office, there was an unexpected surprise waiting for him. His mother was already seated in one of the plush armchairs facing his desk, elegantly dressed, and carrying an air of maternal concern. She looked up, her hazel eyes just like his. She always looked at him like that, ever since he was a kid, always showing how much she loves and cares for him.

"Alex, darling."

Alex returned his mother's hug, and then he gently kissed her on the forehead. "What are you doing here, Mom? You should've called me. I thought you were on a Europe tour with Dad for your birthday."

His mother's hazel eyes softened, and she sighed. "You know I still want to celebrate with you, and I still wish you'd have someone with you, but I guess this office is all you care about."

Alex moved to his desk and gestured to his mother to sit. "Come on, Mom. You know it's not like that. I've just been busy with work, that's all."

She settled into the plush armchair, her gaze never leaving her son. "Alex, I know you love your job, and I'm proud of everything you've achieved. But there's more to life than work, darling. You're 30 now, and I can't help but worry about you being alone."

He took a deep breath, his mother's concern weighing on him. "I appreciate your concern, Mom, but it's not like I haven't thought about it. It's just that I haven't found the right person yet."

His mother nodded and placed a reassuring hand on his. "I know, sweetheart, but sometimes, you need to take a step away from your desk and open yourself up to new experiences. Love often finds us when we least expect it."

Alex contemplated his mother's words. He had always admired her wisdom, and she had a way of seeing things he often overlooked. The thought of finding love was not something he had actively pursued, but perhaps it was time to reconsider his priorities.

"Maybe you're right, Mom," he said, a newfound resolve in his voice. "I'll take your advice to heart. I'll make an effort to find some balance in my life, and who knows, maybe love will find its way to me."

His mother's face lit up with a proud smile. "That's my boy. I just want to see you happy and with someone who appreciates all the wonderful things about you."

"Thanks, Mom. It's all because of how supportive you've been to me," Alex said with a warm smile.

Growing up in a traditional and affluent family, with high expectations for success, Alex always aimed to reach higher. His father was a powerful business magnate, and his mother was a prominent socialite. From a young age, he was groomed to follow in his father's footsteps and take over the family business. But his mom always tried to fill the gaps when she was at home. Alex always appreciated how his mom made up for all those busy moments.

"Speaking of support, how come you still haven't found your secretary?"

Alex chuckled at his mother's question. "Mom, I'm just incredibly particular about who I want as my secretary. I need someone who can keep up with my pace and understand the intricacies of the tech industry. It's not an easy job to fill."

His mother gave him a knowing look. "I understand, dear, but remember, two is better than one. You can't always do everything on your own. You've succeeded in business because you're a visionary, but there's nothing wrong with asking for someone's help. Also, you're paying them so why not hire someone reliable?"

Alex considered his mother's words as he leaned back in his chair. She had a point; he had always been fiercely independent, often believing that he could handle everything on his own. However, as the demands of his role continued to grow, he couldn't deny that he could use some assistance.

"This won't do. You're already having a hard time finding a wife, and now you're in a tight spot looking for a secretary. I will help you find the perfect secretary; Mom's got you," she said and then winked at Alex.

Alex suddenly felt that something was about to happen. He hadn't expected that his mom's helping hand would lead him to an unexpected encounter with a woman who would turn his world upside down.

As the day wore on, Alex couldn't help but think about his mother's words. Her visit had left a lingering sense of unease in his mind. He realized that he had become so immersed in his career that he had neglected other aspects of his life. The prospect of finding love and achieving a better work-life balance tugged at him like a persistent thought he couldn't shake.

During a break in his busy schedule, he decided to take a stroll around the city park near his office. The crisp air, the sight of families enjoying their time, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze offered him a moment of solace. He sat on a bench, lost in his thoughts.

A few years ago, there was a girl who had briefly entered his life. Her name was Emily. She had been his colleague at the tech startup he worked for before founding his own company. Emily was a brilliant programmer, and her passion for technology matched his own. They often collaborated on projects and became friends.

Emily was unlike anyone he had ever met. Her fiery spirit and determination were evident in everything she did, and her presence had a way of breaking through his stoic exterior. They had grown close, and for a time, it seemed like their professional relationship might turn into something more.

But then, the tech startup faced financial difficulties, and Alex was faced with a difficult decision. He had the opportunity to invest in the struggling company and save it from bankruptcy, but doing so would mean putting his own dreams of starting his tech company on hold. He had chosen to pursue his own ambitions and left the startup, leaving behind his connection with Emily.

As he remembered their last conversation, he realized that he had never truly moved on from that decision. Alex wondered where Emily was now and if she had found the success and happiness she deserved. He found himself longing to reconnect with her and apologize for how he had left things.

The memory of Emily and the prospect of finding love weighed heavily on Alex's mind as he left the park. He decided to take his mother's advice to heart and make an effort to find some balance in his life. He knew that he couldn't do everything on his own, both in his personal life and in his professional endeavors.

Returning to his office, he made a note to look for a capable secretary who could assist him in managing his growing responsibilities. It was time to take the first step toward change, not only for the sake of his career but also for the possibility of finding love and happiness.

***

8:30 in the evening, and Alex is still at work. All of his employees have gone home earlier, leaving only him behind. He decided to go to the pantry to make some coffee when he heard his phone ring.

Brent Calling...

He answered it.

Brent: Hey, man! Where are you? Don't tell me you're still buried in your laptop working?

He heard Brent laugh at the other end.

Alex: If you don't have anything sensible to say, I'm going back to my work.

Brent: Woah, chill, man. It's like you're not talking to your best friend. Come on, let's grab a drink.

Alex raised an eyebrow. He knew this was all his friend was going to say. They've been close friends since high school. Brent is outgoing and carefree, unlike Alex, who is very serious about life.

Alex: I'm busy.

Brent: You're always busy, man. Come on. It's close to your office. A new pub. They have beautiful servers and barista here. Let's go!

Brent is quite a ladies' man, too. Alex was about to decline when Brent spoke again.

Brent: Watch out, I'm heading there with some ladies.

Alex: Give me 10 minutes.

Alex quickly shut down his laptop and closed his office. He also informed the duty guard before leaving. As he stepped outside, he walked the short distance to "The Lantern's Haven." The warm glow of its fairy lights welcomed him, and the inviting ambiance seemed to be a respite from the long hours he had spent at work.

As he entered, he was greeted by the rustic charm of exposed brick walls, wooden beams, and the soft jazz music playing in the background. The Lantern's Haven was dimly lit, creating an intimate and relaxed atmosphere that was the perfect antidote to his day.

He spotted Brent at the bar, already engaged in a lively conversation with the bartender, who was crafting an exquisite cocktail. Alex joined them, taking a seat on one of the leather-upholstered barstools.

Brent grinned, handing him a cocktail menu. "You made it! Alex, meet Tom, the master of mixology here. Tom, this is my workaholic best friend, Alex."

Tom nodded with a friendly smile and said, "Pleasure to meet you, Alex. What can I get you tonight?"

Alex glanced at the menu, tempted by the creative concoctions. He decided on the "Haven Mule" and replied, "I'll go with one of those, please."

Tom was about to start preparing Alex's order when a woman suddenly arrived and said, "I'll take care of this, Tom."

Alex couldn't quite understand what was happening, but he couldn't take his eyes off the lady. She had her back to them, so he couldn't see her face, but her long chestnut brown hair seemed to exude a different kind of charm. Brent noticed his friend's gaze and grinned mischievously.

"Hey, Tom. Why don't you introduce us to the beautiful lady with you?"

Alex gave his friend a disapproving look, knowing what was on his mind. Tom hesitated, looking unsure about whether to introduce her or not. However, the lady turned around and brought Alex his drink. She smiled and handed him his drink. Alex was mesmerized by her sapphire-colored eyes. Deep down, it felt like he had already seen those beautiful eyes before.

"I'm Olivia, pleased to meet you, gentlemen," she greeted them. Brent was about to speak when she abruptly left to attend to another customer.

"What a sassy chick, I like her," Brent remarked.

Tom scratched his head. "I'm sorry, guys. That's just how Olivia is. She's young and full of life, so she's always bustling with energy."

As Olivia attended to other customers, Alex couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious and vibrant woman who had appeared out of nowhere. Her presence had injected a burst of energy into the pub, and her striking blue eyes had left an indelible impression on him.

Brent leaned in, clearly excited, and nudged Alex with an elbow. "Mate, did you see those eyes? She's something else, isn't she?"

Alex, still somewhat dazed, replied, "Yeah, she is. I've never seen eyes like that before."

Tom returned to the bar, overhearing their conversation. "Olivia can be a bit of a whirlwind, but she's a great friend of mine. She's got a knack for making people feel at home, and she's a fantastic bartender, too."

Brent winked at Alex. "Well, I think you've found yourself a reason to come back to The Lantern's Haven more often, mate."

Alex's cheeks turned a faint shade of red. He wasn't sure if he would be visiting the pub more frequently because of Olivia, but he couldn't deny that her presence had made the evening more interesting.

***

To be continued.

[omaticwriting]

Grand Anomaly: New beginnings [Chapter prologue 1- how it all began]

Hi! now before you read the story I want to make a few things clear.

this story was fully written sometime in 2020 and published on Wattpad (I am simply transferring it here as I feel it would be more comfortable for me than there)

this is part of a bigger series and universe so expect more in the future.

I also plan on doing the same on ao3 so expect that.

with that out of the way. I hope you enjoy the story of book 1 of grand anomaly.

---------------------

It was a bright and early morning in a small town in Oregon, birds, rodents and other various animals were still asleep as the early summer sun rose on the horizon. And somewhere in a small bedroom its decorations full of photos and souvenirs of various plants, feathers with some dried and framed, and rocks alongside maps all leading to a forest simply just behind the house, a sleeping child was dozing off in the early morning. The alarm clock on his desk showed 5:59 AM but the peacefulness would change as the blare of the alarm clock rang, followed by the radio announcement.

"Gooooood morning, Oregon!" The speaker beamed. "Today's the first day of summer and that means fun is about to start, the time is 6:00 AM, there will be clear skies and a calm breeze today, and what better way to start, this week with old hits starting with 'I'm gonna learn how to surf' by Del El-Mezoghi." The radio began to play an upbeat tune, waking the young boy, yawning slowly, taking the time to get up, looking around his room, the homely ambiance never leaving, a smile formed on his face as today was the start of something fun.

The young lad had messy black hair from his sleep and black eyes, but the sunlight showed a hint of honey brown in his eyes, and after a quick bathroom break and a quick change from his pajamas he wore a white shirt with black sleeves, at the center was a black triangle along with a backpack, his hair remained messy but not to the extent when he woke up, along with wearing his gray boots and black jeans he was ready to start the day. Running down the stairs he raced towards the dining room, for a hearty breakfast of beans, eggs, and pancakes. That was on his plate as the boy sat down with his dad, granted he wasn't his biological father but that didn't mean they saw him no less as one, "Morning dad." He greeted his dad with an upbeat tone. "Morning Daniel, ready for your camping trip?" He asked his son, who was busy scarfing down his meal due to the excitement before swallowing, as his son answered. "Yeah, I am!" He exclaimed, this was the first official camping trip held by his school and he didn't want to miss any of it. Especially when it's out in the forest of the cascade mountains.

Daniel couldn't keep his excitement in, distracted only by the familiar barking of his dog. Looking at his dog, a husky with a blue-collar labeled 'Alpine' on it, eating his food brought a smile to the already cheerful boy. "Morning to you too boy." Alpine barked at the greeting before resuming to eat, looking back at his dad, he was sipping his coffee, and a smirk formed at how excited his son is for this trip. He knew his son had a knack for adventure and the outdoors, his bedroom was a good example of it, and being the first camping trip outside of town sure seemed to excite him a lot, but a part of him wanted him to be ready and safe for the trip. "Do you have everything for your trip?" He asked, wanting to be sure as his son gave a firm nod but hesitated a moment as he looked at his father." Could I bring Alpine with me on the trip? He's going to love the outdoors." He requested, his father, taken aback by the request made him think, sure he and alpine were inseparable since they first adopted him when he was a pup but he wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but knowing his son well enough he'd sigh as he answered his question, a small smile forming in his face. "Alright, but please be sure to bring things for him on the trip." He asked Daniel, and with he responded "I will!" No sooner, rushing to pack food and other necessities for the trip. 

"Hear that boy, you're coming with me!" He told his faithful furry companion who only barked with joy as he heard the bus come by the front of his house, his smile grew even wider. "I gotta go, dad, wish me luck!" Daniel hugged his father before running out the door and climbing onto the bus, Alpine in tow, bringing a small smile to his father's face as the bus left.

The bus was crowded with kids and teens, overwhelmed and intimidated Daniel, he was only slightly as he and his dog walked to the very back of the bus, wanting to get his dog and himself comfortable, as they watched the windows as houses and other things passed by. He noticed many of the people on the bus he was in talked and hung out with the people across the bus aisle or the seat next to them, bringing some envy to Daniel who for the most part never had any luck with making friends and whatever friends he had gone off to north Cascadia and won't be back for who knows how long, but it won't stop him from trying making new ones, as he watched the view of the window keep moving past him, as the two enjoyed the rest of the trip.

After a long trip the bus stopped at its destination, Daniel and Alpine wasted no time leaving the bus to see the view that wasn't limited to a simple window and the view was breathtaking. Vast mountains and clear skies were in the distance, the sound of wind and rivers filled his ears as he took a deep breath, the air being much cleaner than what he was used to, and taking one step off the bus brought a smile to his face, as this was the start of a new adventure.

[priortoallthoughts]

Don’t Mess With the Commander’s Caf

(or do, because it’s gotten you this far)

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Commander Fox x afab!reader

Warnings: Mild swearing; gets a bit spicy at the end but nothing explicit.

Summary: What is supposed to be a night out at 79s turns into a night in the drunk tank, and the morning starts a startling new relationship with a certain Coruscant Guard Commander. All over a cup of caf.

// [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

Masterlist

A night out in Coruscant is never complete for you without going to the clone bar, 79s. You may pre-game somewhere else, but you always end up there, recognizable as one of their regulars. You love the atmosphere, honestly. It’s so jovial, just vode – and weren’t you surprised when you found out that clones spoke a different language with each other – coming to forget the war for a night. Living life as much as they could. You’ve picked up a few words of theirs purely because you hear them so often. Many a curse word too, which are your favorites.

And they were about to be put to good use.

You’re already buzzed and walking with a group of grey-clad troopers that had pulled you into their group when they saw you walking alone. You chat easily with them even though you never met them before. That’s the funny thing about being sociable when you’re sober – you’re even more chatty when you drink. And giggly apparently, considering you couldn’t stop laughing at the mission gone wonky they were telling you about.

When 79s came into view your smile widens. There really is nothing like the neon lights and bass you can already hear resonating from inside. Were there probably millions of places just like in on Coruscant already? Sure. But there isn’t anywhere aside from 79s you could find this kind of ambiance.

There is one downside that pisses you off like no other though.

There’s yelling coming from over by the speeder-way and when you look over, another civilian is getting in the face of a Coruscant guard member. The frown the graces your face feels wrong after laughing so much, but you can’t help it. You pause in your tracks. Usually when you see this kinda shit it deescalates fairly quickly, but this civilian is getting louder and more violent the more the (admittedly nervous acting) guard tried to calm him down.

“Hey.” A hand lands on your shoulder and you look up to see one of your group. “We can’t do anything. The punishment would be too harsh and that civvie chakaar won’t even get a slap on the wrist.”

Your frown turns into a snarl. “You can’t do anything.”

Fishing your flask out of your jacket pocket you take a swig before shoving it into the chest of the closest trooper. The steady click of your heels is the only thing you can hear over the growing volume of yelling.

“Hey! Shabuir in the stupid shirt!” Your own yell interrupts.

You have exactly one second to reconsider things before you think about all the vitriol this jackass is spewing at the guard for nothing. The sound of your fist hitting his face is the most satisfying thing you’ve heard tonight, along with the yelp he lets out when he hits the ground.

“What the kriff is your problem, bitch?!”

“You talking shit about this trooper is my problem!”

He turns towards the guard again and the trooper flinches. “I want her arrested for battery!”

You lean down to grab his collar and shake him out. “Oh, so now you want him to do his job? The one you were just belittling him for? Can’t have it both ways, chakaar!”

“Let go of me!”

You drop him so suddenly that his head cracks against the ground. He scrambles to his feet and points a finger at you. “You’ll regret this! They’re nothing but meat-droids!”

“Say that again, you little pissant. I dare you.” You go to take a step forward but he’s already running away. A hand on your shoulder again makes you look over to the one you defended.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” And he does sound sorry. “I will have to take you in tonight. I… can’t ignore you attacking someone right in front of me.”

You smile at him. “No problem, trooper. Do your job; I don’t want you getting in trouble.” You offer your wrists to him and next thing you know they’re in a pair of binders behind your back and you’re being placed in the back of a speeder.

“A night in the drunk tank should sort you out.”

The smile you give him is blinding, because not only do you know that’s not the proper booking for what you just did, at least you look cute while you’re being taken away.

---

When you wake up in your cell (lucky you’re the only one there) you’re beyond tired and in desperate need of some caf. You can’t function without it in the morning.

There’s a guard member who lets you out not long after you get up. You follow him like a zombie. Presumably he’s leading you out of all the twisting hallways, but you stop short when your nose picks up the distinct smell of caf.

But not just any caf. You know the smell of Death Wish anywhere.

Your favorite.

You follow your nose to a mess hall – sparsely populated but still enough that everyone stops what they’re doing to look at you as you make your way to the caf machines in the back. You’re basically falling asleep as you walk so you don’t notice. Maybe you should care, considering you’re still wearing your clubbing outfit from last night, but no, you don’t actually care.

When you get there you see two different machines. One is labeled with some cheap, generic caf name and the other is simply “Fox’s Starfighter Fuel.”

You grab a flimsi cup and fill it with the second one. No cream. No sugar.

No life, only caf.

You finally notice how deathly quite it is as you take your first sip and turn around. There’s one trooper standing in front of you, helmet tucked under his arm, and the most severe look you’ve ever seen before gracing his features. You look him over with half-lidded eyes, noticing he’s dressed differently than the others, and casually take another sip of caf.

“You must be Fox.”

“Civilians aren’t allowed in this part of the building, who let you in here?”

Still waiting for the caf to kick in, you shrug. “Spent the night in the tank. No one stopped me when I walked in.”

Fox turns to glare at everyone sitting at the tables. They all look down at their food like they weren’t obviously watching and someone starts whistling.

“You need to leave,” he says when he turns back around.

“Can I finish my caf first?” You ask, taking more sips hoping to stall.

He glowers even more. “That’s not even your caf!”

“Shame.” You chug the rest of the still mostly full cup and coughs wrack your chest when you finish. “I think I just burned my esophagus,” you rasp.

“Get out.”

“That’s completely fair.”

You toss your cup in the trash on the way out. Turning the way you were going before you got distracted, you make your way to the exit; no need to bring the wrath of Fox down on you for sticking around. You feel like, once again, you get off light and dont’t want to press your luck. The smile that graces your face as you step outside is probably a strange thing for anyone else to see considering you’re walking out of jail, but you had a good night, and the morning is shaping up to follow suit.

---

The next day you walk into the caf shop you normally stop at on the way to work. The barista behind the counter waves as you walk up. “Your usual, hun?”

“You know me,” you smile brightly, “but, uh, can you make it two?”

Her eyes widen. “I can’t imagine the morning you’re expecting to have!”

You laugh and wave her off. “Nothing bad. I owe someone a cup.”

“You mean someone else drinks this sludge?”

“Imagine my surprise. And it’s not that bad!”

She places two large flimsi cups in front of you. Your hands rub together nervously before you get your thoughts together. “Can I borrow your marker?”

She hands it to you with a raised eyebrow and you quickly scribble a few words on one of the cups. It isn’t a lot, and it completely gives away who you are without having to sign your name, so you hope it’s okay.

“Thanks, gotta run!” You scurry out of the door before the barista can ask anything about what you’re doing.

You aren’t even sure yourself if you were being completely honest. The Coruscant Guard building is a little out of your way from your route to work, but you leave early in the mornings anyway, so you can still make it in time even with the detour. You feel a bit nervous walking in this time. Where did all your confidence from yesterday go?

You flag down the first trooper you see that doesn’t look busy.

“Can you give this to Fox, please?” You hold out the cup for him to take.

He doesn’t.

He only stands there, and you imagine he’s making a face behind his helmet because he doesn’t say anything either.

After a few seconds of silence you lower the cup awkwardly. “Uhh, oh, sorry, am I allowed to bring caf?”

“Why are you bringing the Commander caf?” He finally asks.

You squeeze the cups so much the tops almost pops off. “Fox is a commander?”

“Commander Fox is head of the Coruscant Guard, ma’am.”

The top of your own cup does pop off this time, but nothing spills.

“The entire guard?” You squeak.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Heat is quick to crawl up your face. “Oh stars, I can’t believe I took his caf.” Your internal panic is quickly becoming external as you try not to drop either cup. You hid your face behind one in embarrassment.

“Wait.” The guard member tilts his head. “You’re the one they were talking about yesterday? The girl from the mess hall?”

There’s a few second where nothing but incomprehensible noises come out of your mouth, but you finally get out, “how many people know about that?!”

“It’s made its way around.”

“I’m gonna - kriff - go throw myself off the senate building I swear-“

You’re cut off by the sound of a chuckle and you snap your head up to see the guard member’s shoulders shaking. “So you’re not trying to poison the Commander, huh?”

“No!” You yelp, but quiet down after you see others turn to look at you. “I was just trying to repay the caf I drank! We like the same kind!”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Can you please just give this to him before I die of embarrassment? You’re killing me here!”

He laughs again and finally takes the cup from your shaking hands. “Who should I say it’s from?”

You slap a hand over your face to hide your grimace. “At this point I’d rather not tell you. I want to keep some of my dignity intact,” you mutter.

“Nobody’s dignity is intact here, ma’am.”

“Oh… joy.”

“You best be on your way then.”

He is giving you an out and you’re taking it in full.

“Have a good day,” you say as you turn, the only proof you’ve been there being one guard member and a note on a flimsi cup.

“Sorry for taking your caf yesterday.”

---

One week later you find yourself standing outside of the caf shop, once again with two cups in hand through no fault of your own. It makes you think that maybe another trip to the Coruscant Guard building wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Why waste a perfectly good drink after all?

You pause immediately when you step through the door, because the man you’re looking for is standing across the room talking to someone with a datapad in hand. The decision on whether to interrupt is made for you when the person he’s talking to looks over and spots you.

He waves and Fox finally looks over as well, tilting his head as he does so. You take a deep breath before walking over to them.

“Caf girl!”

You raised your eyebrow at the other trooper. “I really am known around here for that, aren’t I?” You say as you stop in front of them. You have a sneaking suspicion that he is the same one you talked to last week.

“Well you never gave me your name,” he shrugs.

Yeah, it’s him.

Your head snaps to Fox, however, when he addresses you.

“You know my name?”

“Your information was processed and put into the system when you spent the night in the tank.”

“Osik,” you mutter.

“Did you need something?” He asks.

You perk up some, and hold out the second drink in your hand. “Right, there was a mixup at the caf shop, and I got an extra drink. I thought you might like it.”

He takes it carefully, but your bare fingers still brush against his gloved ones. They tingle when you pull away, and while the heat on your palm from holding the hot cup fades, the heat in your fingertips does not. You have the sudden urge to find out what holding his hand feels like, but you push that thought down along with the blush you can feel rising. Now isn’t the time. You have to get to work. Maybe if you come by earlier next time….. would there be a next time?

“Thank you. I… appreciate the thought.” You think you hear him trip over his words, but there’s no way.

You smile brightly at him. “You’re welcome!” You check the time on your chrono. “Looks like I gotta bounce. Enjoy your caf, Commander!”

Your retreat is quick, but hells if you don’t add a little extra sway to your hips as you walk out the doors.

And scribbled on the cup now in Fox’s hand is:

“I know day old caf when I taste it. Fresh is better.”

---

You start to bring Fox caf every week.

“This has become part of my routine, so I hope you don’t mind.”

Every week turns into every few days.

“Your filing system is horrifying but at least your chair is comfy.”

Every few days turns into every day.

“Tell Thorn that if he sees me at 79s tonight, he can’t arrest me just so I’ll hang out with him.”

And leaving early just to see Fox is the best part of your day no matter what. You hope you’re not the only one who feels like this. That maybe as you walk to the Guard building in the morning, you’re not the only one smiling and counting down the minutes until you get to Fox’s office. He never turns you away, and he’s always there to take the extra caf from your hands if he can be. Sometimes you have to leave it on his desk if he’s not in, but you understand that his job isn’t easy by any stretch of the word.

He is in this morning, however, seeing as the door opens promptly at your knock. He sits behind his desk, a few data pads already stacked next to him and a frown marring his face. That won’t do.

“Credit for your thoughts?” You say as you set his caf down next to his helmet and lean against his desk.

Fox looks up and gives you a tired smile, unaware of how it makes your stomach flutter. “Shaping up to be a long day.”

“Giving yourself more grey hairs already?” You say, giving a pointed look to his already greying sides.

“Like I need any more,” he huffs.

“I dunno,” you reach up and run your fingers lightly through his short curls, “I think they make you look distinguished.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t know he had been holding. “At least one of us thinks so.”

“It’s okay, I can like it enough for the both of us.”

“Should I count myself lucky then?” He smirks, finally taking a sip of his caf and sighing contently into the cup.

You give him a cheeky grin. “You should.”

He looks at you then, not saying anything, and you can’t help the flush you feel crawling up your face. You swear, you had never blushed so much around anyone before you met him. You distract yourself by drinking your own caf, the liquid welcome to your suddenly dry mouth.

“I do.”

“What?” Your head snaps back up to him and he’s still looking at you, but not in a way you’ve seen before.

“I do count myself lucky.”

You look away shyly, a small smile forming at the corners of your mouth. Sure, you two have been lightly flirting with each other, or at at least you’re definitely flirting with him, but this is the most straight-forward thing he’s ever said to you.

“It’s a good thing I got myself arrested that night then, isn’t it?”

It’s uncharted territory, where this conversation is heading. The thought of what it could be sits low in your belly and causes you to let out a shakey breath.

“It’s quite the holovid to watch,” he says offhandedly.

You’re lucky you aren’t drinking your caf, otherwise you would have spit it everywhere. You turn your head so hard you think you give yourself whiplash, mouth agape, looking at him in wide-eyed mortification.

“There’s a holo of that?!” The pitch of your voice would be embarrassing if you weren’t in the middle of spontaneously combusting on the inside.

He nods empathetically, which is shit because you know for damn sure he’s not empathetic about it; he’s having too much fun with this. You know he is, with that stupid, heart-stopping smirk playing on his face.

“Our HUDs record each incident for our files to make sure everything matches up with the reports.”

“Nooooooooooooo,” you whine quietly into your hands that now cover your face. You hear him get up and move to stand in front of you, but you don’t react. Mainly because you have no idea what he’s doing, but also he’s so kriffing close you can barely handle it.

His pries your hands from your face and presses them to his desk, effectively caging you in. He’s even closer now, and you’re hyper aware of how hard your heart is pounding even though you stop breathing. It’s the last thing from threatening, but you’re still frozen.

He leans in so his mouth is right next to your ear. “You look good in that little red dress of yours,” he whispers, his voice octaves lower than before. “Especially when you’re beating the kark out of a civvie – standing up for my vod.” It sends a pleasurable shiver down your spine and straight to your ovaries.

You suck in a breath when he pulls away. This is much more than you could have expected. “You’re not giving me much incentive to not be arrested again,” you tilt your head, “now that I know you’d be watching.”

“Always watching you, cyare.”

You hum, pulling one hand away from his to run up his armor and trace lightly over his jaw. “Gonna have to try harder to get a pair of binders on me next time, then.”

“Would you run?”

“Only if you’re the one chasing me.”

You move your hand from his jaw to the back of his neck and scratch lightly, feeling more than seeing him shiver under your fingertips.

“I’d find you.”

“Oh, I’d be counting on it, Commander.”

It’s a mutual surge that leads you two to lean in, culminating in the most charged kiss you’ve ever received. You throw your other hand around his neck, holding him as close as you can, while his hands latch onto your hips, pulling you up and into his embrace. He leads you back until he’s sitting in his chair and the next thing you know you’re falling into his lap to straddle him. You break for air, and to process that yes, this is happening, before you’re kissing again. A little slower; a little deeper.

You moan quietly into his mouth, and his hands move to your ass so he can pull you even closer.

There’s a chime from your chrono and you pull away, panting.

Fox’s eyes are dark and hungry when he looks at you. “You have to go soon.”

You nod, not breaking eye contact, and not moving either.

He grins, and it looks absolutely predatory. He slides the top of your blouse down slowly, just enough for his mouth to latch on to you right above your collarbone. You let out another breathy moan, and his teeth graze your skin in response as he sucks harder. His tongue soothes the area over when he lets go, and he looks at the quickly darkening spot with what you can only assume is possessive pride.

“For you to remember,” he says huskily.

Knowing he’s just staked his claim on you stokes the fire inside you even more. You give him your own feral grin, and pull down the collar of his blacks as he stiffens. “Who am I to allow you to forget, then?”

You suck hard at the column of his throat, higher than he did on you, knowing it would still be covered. You taste the sweat that had been building up, and his skin which you can’t even describe except that it tastes like him.

He groans lowly into your ear and you shiver when you pull away. You drag your nail lightly over the dark bruise in satisfaction before pulling his collar back up.

You slide off his armored thighs slowly. He follows you to stand, and gives you one last, long, kiss.

“Until next time, cyare.”

When you leave his office, you wish you had written something more on his cup than a crudely drawn fox with a smiley face next to it. Tomorrow though, you wonder what you can get away with saying.

“Next time I’m wearing that little red dress, feel free to search me. Who knows what I could be hiding.”

[jangofctts]

Bloodsport (din djarin x fem!reader) (part one) 

rated: 18+

word count: 5.4k

warnings: smut, knife kink (no blood is drawn and consent is clearly given), blowjobs, vaginal fingering, din is sorta a virg duDE, alcohol, mentions of violence (reader punches someone in the face kwejrkejh), some gambling (sabaac) also please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: oOf this is the first fic in sO LONG IM SO SORRY YALL KEHJRKEJH BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY

It’s been a couple months since Din’s stepped foot on the sandy nightmare of a planet. Went through hell and back and kriff—it feels like a lifetime ago. But the landscape before him hasn’t changed an inch, Mos Eisley same as always—busy with all sorts of scum and villainy he turns a blind eye to. 

Din hopes it’s not the only thing that’s stayed the same—selfish as it is. Someone as volatile as you is bound to catalyze and shift, so is the nature of life. A lot can happen in a month or two and it’s ridiculous to think that you would ever push your life to the side and wait for him to return.    

Turns out, you are here, still working as the resident mechanic. Though in the same elated breath of hearing that tidbit of news, it’s equally dissatisfying when he somehow misses you completely. You’re off planet, looking for power converters and electrical wiring—back in few days Peli promises. Maybe by the time his wild goose chase is over, back from the butt fuck middle of nowhere, he’ll get to see you— 

Nothing goes as planned—naturally. All Din finds is a man playing dress up, an oversized lizard, planetary drama he’s forced to resolve and—to top it all off—an attempted stickup. Maker—he’s not even worried about anything save for the kid and your speeder. The very same one now scattered over the sand in miserable heaps.           

At least some of it is salvageable…

By the time Din reaches the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the binary suns are smearing across the horizon like molten puddles of magma. Deep aches amass in his shoulders and back from the weight of the speeder parts, his gear, and the second pair of armor. Maker—it feels like his arms are going to be ripped off.

The baby babbles something incomprehensible. 

“Almost there, kid,” Din responds, sparing a quick glance down the baby. “How does soup sound?”

Instead of trudging back to the hangar, Din wanders to the cantina. Call it a hunch or just you and your aunt’s tendency to lurk around the premises, he’s certain he’s going to find one of you here. 

Din is right.

The moment he steps inside, he spots your mess of hair, the low solar lights illuminating the rich colors with a soft orange. The baby coos and blinks up at Din, his tiny clawed finger gesturing in your direction. 

Din hums. “Good job—you found her.” 

The child’s little teeth peek out, pleased with his discovery. Din steps into the doorway, down the carven stairs and over to your table. A older man—a ship rigger by the looks of his uniform—sits across from you, a game of Sabaac spread across the table between you. You’re winning. 

“Hello, Shiny.” You greet, dipping your chin in his direction. “Your armor is looking a tad ripe.” 

It’s true. The layer of slime coating his armor had baked and crusted under the suns—probably doesn’t smell too good either… 

“I killed a Krayt dragon.” Din states it with a twinge of smug satisfaction despite knowing how little something like that would mean to you. He could conquer three dozen planets and shower you in all the precious metals in the world and you’d still turn your nose up at everything.  

“And I curb stomped a centipede today—you aren’t special.” Your eyes never leave the set of worn cards you hold between your fingers, acutely ignoring him like you would an overly enthusiastic puppy. You inhale and scrape your right thumbnail along the edge of the hexagonal cardstock—it’s a subtle tell, one Din would more than likely miss if he were the unlucky bastard brave enough to sit at the other end of the table.  

“You playin’ or what?” Your opponent gripes. He scratches his unkempt salt and pepper stubble and quirks a furry brow. 

You lift your chin in scorned defiance and lay your hand down—full Sabaac. The man hisses through his crooked, clenched teeth and utters a curse as he shoves his winnings towards your end of the table.  

“Peli promised me information.” Din pushes, hearing the kid coo in curiosity as you begin shuffling the cards with practiced flare. “About others like me.”

“Do I look like my aunt to you?” You grumble. It’s the first time your eyes leave the perimeter of the game to look at him. They settle on the kid first with a guarded version of compassion, then leap to the faded green armor clipped to the heavy luggage, and then his visor. Your lip twitches at the green slime still coating the beskar. “I’m assuming my speeder didn’t make it.”

“A technical difficulty.”

You roll your eyes and snort, dealing out the cards then setting the stack in the middle. “Right…”

The background ambiance of the bar and the quiet rasp of cards fill the brief lull in conversation. Any other rational person would take the blaring hint to leave, but Din is just as stubborn as you are. 

“I don’t remember where the hangar is,” Din lies, cocking his head to the side in mock innocence, “could you show me?” 

The tip of your tongue peaks out of the corner of your mouth. The unconscious tic is not one of irritation—not yet. Though before you’re able to respond, your opponent beats you to it. 

“Yeah—I know where it is. It’s between fuck off and take a hike.”  

Din turns his head, the cool, even tone of his words sharper than shrapnel as he address the man. “I was speaking to her.”        

This is funny to you Din realizes—one of the tiny mysteries of your entirety clicking into the place of the puzzle map he’s conjured for you. 

“Well, I don’t have the time of day for cowards who wear shiny buckets over their head.” The man gripes into his drink, dark eyes flicking over to Din as he sizes him up. “What’s a Mandalorian doing out here anyway? Thought your planet exploded or something.”

The man’s ignorance irks him—sure. How could it not? But with years of harsh words and jabs at the foundation of Din’s very being, he’s learned to adapt. It’ll always sting no matter how many layers of beskar he wears but you on the other hand…

Your eyes spark, molten and bright like the last solar flare on the surface of a decaying star. Each encounter Din’s had with you, he’s bared witness to the deep well of your anger that fuels your being like the auto-mechanical heart of a droid. He’s felt the bite of your rage firsthand, but this anger—this is the tragedy of the delicate mayfly wings trapped between the black teeth of misfortune—the story of the boy who rammed a spear into the flank of an ancient beast that bites before it barks and gnashes its yellowed teeth in warning.

Din’s hand inches towards his blaster. He’s not willing to weigh the safety of the kid against your rash decisions, despite it being on his behalf.   

Though, just as quick as it appears, it recedes like the cool drawback of a tumultuous ocean. Din’s arm relaxes at his side as you release a puff of air. 

Your scuffed up fingers, stained with years of engine grease, scars and dirt, curl around your half finished drink. You stand, lay your cards face down onto the table and flash the stranger a feral grin.

Without a word, you toss your drink directly into the man’s unsuspecting eyes. In another breath, the pointed edges of your knuckles fly forward and hook beneath the point of his chin with a meaty thunk. The man’s head whips backwards and connects with the gravely wall—

Out like a light.  

Jaw clenched tight, you shake out your bleeding knuckles and gather up the strewn credits over the table. You shove them into the pockets of your jacket and side eye Din. “Restitutions for damages,” you mutter. 

The other patrons keep their eyes to themselves as the three of you hurry out the door. Only an apathetic glance from the bar tender serves as proof that something did, in fact, occur. No one wants to dirty their nose sniffing about where they shouldn’t be when they have their own business to safeguard.

The crisp night air rustles the stray strands of hair that escape from your ponytail. Ghostly moonlight carves the shape of your cheeks into an almost ethereal sight—one of those deep space creatures with pointy teeth and hellfire for eyes. Stuff of legends you’d never think to look in a dingy bar for.     

But he knows—Din knows that cool mask is just a front from what you hide. It is a hungry ghost that hounds your thin stretched shadow—what ifs and the glories of war you never really escaped. You forget that you are flesh and blood and ghosts are only air and echoes, nothing more. 

Din is sharp edged steel. A stray fragment of a shattered mirror, the lacerated reflection of a nameless purpose and a faceless existence. He’s torn edges and cracked glass but his heart beats within his chest with the blood of a thousand suns. Two souls under the umbrella of the word damaged but entirely different in nature.     

“No one—“ you growl, your voice a steady and lethal timbre that terrifies a part of Din’s unconsciousness, “—speaks that way to my friends.” 

Touching. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Creature,” you huff, staring down at the child who gurgles in return. “He deserved it—“

The reunion certainly wasn’t the one Din imagined, though it’s a relief to find that there’s no roughened edge like sandpaper over skin wedged between you. Picked up right where you left off—no questions asked and no inglorious retelling of how Din nearly died on the floor of a shitty cantina. There’s not a doubt in his mind that you'd laugh at him for it—it is sorta funny…   

The rest of the evening is spent walking back to the hangar, arguing over the fact that yes Din should take the couch instead of that miserable little hovel he calls a bed, and spend the night. He’d have to find some other mechanic to work through the night if he wanted to leave in the morning, because you certainly did not want to volunteer for that. And so—Din reluctantly takes the couch and agrees to let you tackle the monstrosity of fixing up his ship for tomorrow. 

He has to admit…the couch is a bit smaller than the length of his body, but it’s comfortable…maybe he’d buy a better blanket while he was here. As a treat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

You purse your lips and whistle. “I swear each time I see it, it gets worse. Y’know, I know a couple guys selling—“ 

“Can you fix it?”

You fold your arms over your chest and roll your eyes.“Yeah I can fix it, jeez—no need to get your undies in a twist.” 

You try not to take offense, because hey—you’re offering him the info on the good deals on new ships (and at this point anything would be better than this old rust bucket). But if Din doesn’t want anything to do with that, then whatever. His loss.   

When you wander onto the ship, toolbox in hand, the Mandalorian tags along. Unsure if he doesn’t trust you with his things or just wants to hang out, it blankets the space with an air of uncertainty. Turns out it was neither of those guesses. All he does is throw open his stash of weapons, collect his pile of vibroknives, and set them on a table to polish and sharpen. 

Makes sense, you suppose. Everything has to be as shiny as his armor. 

You drop to your knees near the closest wiring panel you find. You wrench open the paneling and frown at the disarray of sparking wires and tangled cords. You organized these perfectly last time he was here. “Who the fuck junked up my rigging?”

Mando sits at the little table tucked away in the corner, brooding over his cache of weapons. He shrugs. “Could’ve come loose when I landed.” 

You roll your eyes at his half assed excuse and mutter a foul string of curses under your breath that’d make even Peli wince. It’s fine. It’s cool—no biggie. You can sort through this in a couple hours, maybe three. 

But of course rarely anything goes as planned. As time ticks away, arms deep in wires older than the kriffing Clone Wars, the distractions begin. The scrape of metal on durasteel makes the hair rise into little pricks all up your arms—you shoot a glare over your shoulder. Din tilts his head, your kneeling self reflecting within the ever dark visor, features scrunched into an obvious tell of annoyance. Huffing, you bury your head back into your task at hand. 

The second distraction arrives in the form of a quiet hum of curiosity originating from the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bring a vibroblade up to his visor, inspecting the notch in the blade that disrupts the electrical current that flows through the weapon. Din then rubs his thumb over the handle of the vibroblade in a slow, sensual circle. You lick your lips and tear your eyes away. That shouldn’t be hot.

You furrow your brows and tear apart another wire, but the metallic tap, tap, tap of Din bouncing the tip of a different blade over the table is bothersome. You swing your head to your left, mouth parting to snap at him, but his hand—sans glove—brings you to a halting stop. 

It’s alluring, the way his long, weathered fingers twirl the knife with practiced ease—like silk through water and followed by the low hum of electricity meant to slice through flesh. Din tosses it in the air, watching it spin three rotations then catches it by the handle. Your lips purse when his visor meets your eyes. He spins it between his fingers.  

“Am I bothering you?”

Fucker.   

You scowl. “It’s fine.” 

The soft rasp of his thumb sliding along the flat of the blade entices the eye and damnit—he’s doing this on purpose. 

“Doesn’t seem fine,” he hums. 

“Well, it is.” You retort hotly. You snatch up your pliers and imagine you’re pulling his teeth out in place of the crooked paneling. “I’m currently thriving in my element.”  

Din hums, the sound buzzing with grainy distortion. “Do you want a closer look?”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s playing with an open flame and you with volatile jet fuel. 

“I don’t know, seems kinda lame from here.” You scoff, busying yourself by pinching and twisting another set of frayed wires between your fingertips. “A toothpick if anything.”

Din snorts behind you. The deadly whisper of beskar against the durasteel tabletop makes the hair on the back of your neck prick into points. You tense as heavy boots shuffle along the floor, the near silent rustle of armor tinkling behind you as Din steps closer. You’re slow to stand, even though the presence of the Mandalorian is no less than overbearing. You wipe your grimy hands onto a spare rag, continuing to face the paneling. You then turn, a coy smile threatening to break across your face. 

Stars Din is broad—and close enough you swear you’re able to see the perspiration of your breath fog the beskar plating. Your eyes follow the seams of the cuirass, across the leather bandolier and up to his helmet that’s fixed in an impassive glare of tempered steel. Your back bumps into the wall as Din takes another step forward, boxing you in. To escape you’d need to duck under his arm and yet…you refuse to move.   

Your breath catches as he languidly lifts his hand and taps the flat side of the vibroblade over your collarbone. The sharpened point tickles up the column of your throat, a crackle of nerves and your pounding pulse following in its wake. Din turns the blade to flat edge and pushes into the space right below your jaw—you squirm when he chuckles, the sound low and deep. 

“You like this…”

Din grunts as your hand reaches between his legs, squeezing the growing hardness there. “So do you.” 

Din circles his hand around your wrist with his free palm. Moons above his hands are warm. He murmurs your name—you shiver. “Tell me you want this—want me.”

A blush, hotter than the surface of Tatooine in the midday sun, rushes up your neck and pools into the apples of your cheeks. Maker you want him. With a shuddering sigh you nod—braving the scathing shrapnel of vulnerability. “I need you, Din—please.”

A low chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Din drops his hold on your wrist as you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Bucket Head.”

The Mandalorian snorts and dips his head—gesturing towards the blade still lightly pressed against the base of your throat. “This ok too, Skitter?”

You flash him a wolfish grin. “Gonna fuck me with it?”

Din swears under his breath, crowding his body closer to yours. You hear his strained sigh as he dips his head closer, the beskar a chilly whisper against your cheek. “You’re depraved…take off your pants.”

You smirk, tear off your belt and shimmy out of your pants and underwear, bottom half now bare. His visor dips, entranced.  

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he settles one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other trails the blunt edge of the handle from your clothes collarbone, and down your belly. From your mid thigh he skates the handle up your bare thigh and then rests it over the crack of your thigh. Heat flushes through your entire body, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handle. A shiver races down each vertebrae when he drags it over the swell of your cunt and then carefully pressing it against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure. It’s cold, rigid and filthy. Who knows where that knife has been—how many lives it’s taken or severed through muscle and skin. 

You don’t find it in you to care all that much.    

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. Fuck—it’s been so long since you’ve indulged in this sort of pleasure.You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him, the handle of his knife slipping through your folds as arousal drips from your cunt.   

Your groan as you tilt your hips into the handle, craving any lick of pleasure he’ll give. Your breath hitches as Din pushes the hilt closer to your throwing entrance, murmuring praise as he sinks the first couple inches inside of you. It’s cold—the knobby feel of the handle not too much thicker than one or two of your fingers combines. You huff and grab at his cowl, the warmth of his hand grazing your pussy each time he rocks his wrist forward. 

“You’re so quiet,” Din goads, pulling the handle free from your aching center. “You usually have plenty to say.” 

You shoot Din a glare, tongue weighed down by arousal to come up with a god retort. You lean your head back against the wall of the Crest and with a chuckle, Din’s hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. The blade clatters to the floor and instead brings his calloused fingertips to your cunt. He softly rolls your swollen clit between his forefinger and thumb, delighting in the way you shake. “Be a good little thing and cum for me.”

Shit, you didn’t think it’d be that easy. Your body seizes as white hot heat ripples through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a high pitched cry filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around the thick fingers he slips inside of you. 

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body in wake of your euphoric high. You groan as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. “Fuck—that was good.”

You can only imagine that Din rolls his eyes. He takes a step back but before he can escape—

You drop to your knees, a wicked smile curling over your lips. The muscles in his thighs jump as your palms smooth over the outsides of them, then up to his narrow hips, your thumbs lightly massaging the ligaments that protects the fragile joints. Din sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertips hook around his trousers. 

“What are you doing?” Din asks, brushing a thumb over your jaw. 

You pause and glance up at him. You quirk a brow. “Was gonna suck you off, but if you have something else in mind…“ He hisses and tips his head back, flashing the underside of his chin as your hand leaves his hip to cup the heavy bulge tenting in his trousers. 

“Maker—“ He looks off to the side, inhales a choppy breath and then snaps his head back. “You’d…you’d do that?”   

You nod and flash him an encouraging half grin. “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Din mumbles an incoherent string of words under his breath and shifts his weight onto his right leg. His fingers touch your cheek again then tuck a loose hair behind your ear. “But—“

Moons above this man is straight out of some kind of fucking fairytale—arguing about getting his dick sucked—or not. 

Whatever.       

“Din…” His breath hitches at the sound of his name. “I’m asking you kindly to fuck my mouth—it’s cool if you don’t wanna, but my knees already kriffing hurt and—“

He cuts you off with a hasty nod. “Yes—stars, please.”

Fuck yeah.

You smile and slide your eyes past Din’s legs to the cargo crate shoved up against the wall. “You should sit—easier that way.”

He nods and shuffles over, lightly perching himself on the edge and ready to flee at the barest hint of well—anything.

Din’s knee jumps when you place your palm over it. You assume his nerves are from the nature of his occupation—trouble always strikes when you least expect it—and what better time would that be when his pants are around his ankles. “Relax—I’m not gonna bite—maybe.”

He makes a wary sound low in his throat as your fingertips hook into the waistband of his trousers and pull. Din lifts up as you tug the fabric further down his legs, tan skin and solid muscle following in its wake. Fuck…

You swallow, mouth feeling quite dry when your eyes drift between his legs. Din is thick, a rosy brown color, flushed at the tip and curling towards his bellybutton. Beads of liquid shine at the tip, dribbling down the underside and pooling into the dark patch of curls at the base. Din’s fingers hook over the side of the crate, squirming under the weight of your stare. 

Yeah—that’s gonna leave your jaw aching.    

You hear his breath hitch, magnified by the crackle of the vocoder as your lips descend over a silvery scar on the inside of his right knee. You pepper a trail of wet kisses and light nips up his thighs, and by the time you reach the crease of his leg, his hips mindlessly rock with need. 

The second the wet warmth of your tongue brushes over the tip of his cock, his hips jolt off the crate, a load groan echoing through the empty ship. It’s like striking a match to an open line of kerosene—devouring and explosive that’ll leave your delicate skin singed. You’re not nervous playing with fire if this barest scrap of wild heat is anything like burning to a crisp. 

Emboldened by his initial reaction, you wrap your hand around the base, pulsing and achingly hard beneath the velvety flesh. You flatten your tongue over the tip, lapping up the sticky liquid the slip the head of him into your mouth. His hands fly to your hair, tightening into fists as he throws his head back. The beskar scrapes over the durasteel with a sharp squeal, but you don’t find it in you to care about the abrasive sound—eardrums be damned.  

“Fuck—kriffing hell—“ Din snarls, arching his hips to seek more of your warmth. “K-keep going.”  

Your own rekindled arousal blazes hot in your core hearing his stuttered pleas. You pull away to catch your breath, feeling almost guilty for doing so at Din’s low whine of protest. He picks his head up, watching as you languidly jerk him off—entranced with the way your hand rolls over the leaking tip, back down to the base, then up again. You could keep him like this—tease until he cracks under the pressure and begs you for whatever iota of pleasure you want to give but—

You’re not that mean.    

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you part your mouth and slide nearly half of his length into your mouth. Din mutters something garbled, his hips jolting as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head.

Din shifts, arching his back and stuttering out broken whispers of encouragement. Placing your hand over his thigh, you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips, wild and alive—something real beneath all that heavy armor and unforgiving helmet. 

“You—you look…” He grunts as you hum around around his cock, swallowing him down further. “Shit—you look so p-perfect like this.”

You groan and squeeze your thighs together, attempting to ignore the gnawing hunger snapping at your insides. 

Rolling your tongue along the underside of his shaft, your fingers slide over what your mouth cant reach—squeezing and gently coaxing him towards his high. He seizes up tight—yet, just when you think you’ve got him skidding off that precarious edge—

His hand fists your hair at the base your neck and yanks you off his cock. He huffs, breathy little pants as he folds into himself like he’s been punched in the gut, his head rolling forward onto his shoulder. Din shivers as he scrambles for control, beginning to loose that slippery foothold he’s so intent on maintaining. His cock, flushed an angry red and still slick with your saliva, twitches and throbs for the release so cruelly wrenched away. 

You let him catch his breath. The fingers tangled in your hair go lax and drop away to rest at his sides. You swallow, his previous skittishness suddenly clicking into place. “Din, are you…?” A virgin. Your question tapers off, unsure if it’ll embarrass and scare him off. 

“No,” he answers—not in a sharp way like you’d hear with a bruised ego—just stating a fact. “Just not—not this. Never had someone—stars—“

Your teeth roll your bottom lip between them, forcing your face to remain neutral despite the stroke of pride blooming singing in your chest. You’re his first—lucky enough to make this the best goddamned oral he’ll ever have. Something he’ll remember for years.  

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, praying to the Maker he’ll say no. 

He shakes his head, sucking in another calming breath and unfurling himself. His fingers clench into fists then relax, crackling with pent up energy and unsure nerves as to where he should put them. You solve it by threading your fingers through his and placing them around you head. 

Your lips quirk. “You’re allowed to cum in mouth—don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches as a quiet moan fizzles through the modulator. “You su-sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

With a smile you bring your mouth back to his cock, tongue swiping up the entire length of him. Din groans as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and suck. You bob your head as you slowly work him in further because even like this, hardly halfway into your mouth, you feel your lips stretching a bit too much around him. You groan and part your mouth wider, letting him sink into the soft warmth of your throat.  Din inhales, the sound shaky and unsure as his hips twitch with a few tentative thrusts. 

You take it slow—lifting your mouth nearly all the up to the tip then back down to the base. Din rolls his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your knuckles making an absolute mess you have zero intentions of cleaning up. It’s his ship after all. Din swears as his hips stutter, your hand squeeing around him, trying to push him off that edge he so deserves. Din gasps your name, the pitch of his words knocking up to a lighter, more airy tone, warmer than melted butter. 

“Ca-can’t believe, it—ah—it fits.” He groans with astonished reverence. You preen under his praise. 

You swallow around him and grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you let him rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans. 

You can feel is cock twitching over you tongue—he’s close—and when your eyes roll up to meet the darkened visor, he’s gone. He shouts your name and knots his fists around your hair as he spirals of that edge. You nearly gag from the force of his release hitting the back of your throat—cock throbbing and jerking in your mouth like he’s been denying himself release for months. His moans, fragile and gasping, filling the quiet space as his hips grind his cock deeper down your throat, his hands threaded into your hair acting as an anchor—the sole tether he has to the waking world. 

Din’s grip relents as the last few catastrophic waves tear through his body. He doesn’t move his hands, just lets them rest over your skull  as his chest heaves for precious air, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. You pull his still twitching cock halfway out, dragging the tip of your tongue below the frenulum while one of your hands circles the base of his length. Maker—he’s still going—

Last little dribbles of his cum spurt onto your tongue and drip over your knuckles still securely wrapped around him. His legs and lower abdomen flex when your hand falls lower to carefully knead at his balls, milking out his pleasure for all its worth. You let his softening cock slip from your mouth when he swears and mumbles your name.      

When you rest your back against the wall, he slips himself back into his trousers and joins you. You take a risk and rest your head over the chilly beskar pauldron. You’d never call this love—the word is much too harsh for this delicate string of seconds. Love means giving pieces of yourself to others like martyrs give their hearts to the sky—or risk fragile skin against the rays of an unforgiving sun. Broken ribs and clenched fists, immensity beyond comprehension—

“You should come with us,” he says with a hesitant mumble. Love is formidable—but you know that somehow, here, pressed against Din’s side, that this is right. In a golden way, a honeyed way, a path that tastes of blood, freedom and blaster smoke that will leave your lungs stained with blackened soot. Cowardice has long made a home inside of your soul, and he’s offering you a chance to shake off the layer of frost clinging to your bones and step into the gentle merciful dawn.  

“Yeah—alright, Din. I will.”

tags (only tagging some moots for now bc i have no clue what’s going on in this fandom anymore dbdndn): @goldafterglow @jango-fettish @djxrxn @blsmjoon @spookoofins @krissology @steeeeeeeviebb @teaofpeach @comphersjost @gummiishark @delusionsxfgrandeur @pettyprocrastination @huliabitch

[strangerficsforeddie]

REPOSTING: Rebuilding a Shire: Eddie Munson x Reader

This was originally written on my main account but yall probably want it all together in one account. The things you do for love... Anyway, without further ado, the first couple parts of the fic. 

Also if you know me, no you don’t. If you like it, let me know. If you hate it, constructive criticism is always appreciated. The grammar is gunna sucks cause I’m bored asf writing this. Anyway, enjoy. 

Your parents could’ve chosen any school, any place; your parents could’ve even chosen any type of town too, but nope, Hawkins it is. Not LA, nor Oregon, or even the peaceful sound of sending you abroad to France. No, instead you are trapped in the shit hole that is more than an hour's drive from any large city. To be fair, it could’ve been significantly worse. By that I mean, you could be witnessing everyone you ever love ripped apart limb by limb until there is nothing left but a mutilated cavern where a chest cavity once was, but that would be too morbid. No, instead you get the lovely scenic ambiance of ramshackle heaven to bless your eyes every morning. Well, that and your new neighbor. See your parents didn't notice or maybe they just didn't care yet, but there was something far more interesting than starting band class in the fall. 

You never understood why it was so important to them, but your parents insisted you join the moment school started, maybe it was the hope of getting a scholarship. Nonetheless, you agreed after a few snarky remarks about being “too busy being cool to bother boinking around on a trombone.” Your mother was not impressed and your father could not care less as he swung his hand in the air like a conductor asking for silence, but that was yesterday. Maybe today there will be a new understanding of your world stance. 

You stumble out of bed feeling less like Dolly Parton and more like Elvis Costello. This could be partially due to the fact that you were starting your hour before the first day of school with a bong to your lips. “You better not be smoking in there!” you hear your father yell as the water starts to bubble like a kettle. Maybe it was the panic of having to suck in the smoke so you don’t cough, but a minute later you respond “Nah, it's tea! I’m making tea!” Your mother, again, was not impressed and your father did not care. You watched as the sun flared through the swirling arches of smoke cascading in the air. This was the perk of having the only bedroom. Yes sneaking out would be impossible as your parents claimed the pullout couch as their bed, but privacy at the bright-eyed age of 17 never felt more freeing. You pulled another after getting dressed and left your parents without a second glance, away from your Mordor and into a brighter shire. One full with a bit more potential, or so you thought. 

The air was crisp and ate at your nose for an ounce of hydration causing it to drip, but you hardly even noticed your new sniffle. The sunrise was the only good thing about your mornings as most of the time they were loud or annoying unless your father was busy like today. Today you could wear your black jeans and band shirt without worrying about a remark about your appearance. Today you could get away with bringing your bong to school without worrying if they noticed the clinking sound of glass, and that is how you liked it. Your feet hit the dirt road with a sense of desperation as every step felt like one closer to freedom-

  “Hey, you need a ride?” 

You jumped slightly when you heard a voice yell as you were walking, it was a confident one and it seemed to suck away your high with every second he spoke. “You’re not from around here are you!?” it persisted causing you to face the sudden road block from your euphoria. It was a man in a red truck, not too older than you. His short blond hair seems to have taken 30 minutes and his face doesn’t have an ounce of acne. 

“And how did I get so lucky!” You called out without missing a beat, continuing to walk as you went. You see the man laugh and shrug, hitting a puddle to splash you as he drove off. “Fucking asshole!” you yell out and flip him the bird. You continue on, feeling less like fighting your bed to get a quarter for the laundry mat and more like getting to school early to get the layout for your next sesh. Surely you could get to the first period of the day without any other annoyances. You sigh and walk on, the distance to your destination never seems to dissipate. 

You didn’t acknowledge you had even made it to school until you noticed the pair of worn-down converse you stole from your mom were slapping against the linoleum tile. You felt the adrenaline of being a new student bounce within you as different groups of people silently, or not too silently, judge your appearance.  You noticed how no one was in class yet and suddenly the green in your bag felt like an imaginary friend to visit during the in-between periods of discomfort. You backed out the doors you had just blessed with your use and headed towards the football field bleachers. You knew this was ballsy, not knowing the stance around the school prior and not waiting to understand the layout, but you’re “not from here around here” and that was okay by you. 

“You know most people just smoke a jay in the bathroom.” 

This one was different than before, it trickled into your ear as smooth as honey but tickled your heart like Hydrogen peroxide. Maybe it was the fear of being caught walking towards a part of the school typically not used in the morning, but you felt your hands sweat as you stand still. Maybe you should be scared, how many people take kindly to your type in the south anyway, but nonetheless, you turn around. “I beg your pardon?” you say, feeling like this covered your action plan as well as KISS’s black makeup after three hours at a show. you were dripping with sweat and clearly reeking of weed. When you turned around to meet his eyes, all your fear dissipated. Maybe he would have been rather intimidating except for the fact that you knew his kind from before: wearing leather or jeans, every article having a hole or a tear. He was the opposite of scary, he seemed like a friend. When the distance between the two of you became more intimate, you couldn’t help but notice the rings on his fingers and the way his leather boots were inches from your shoes. 

“You’re right, where is my introduction?” he hands you the joint that was in his hand and starts patting his body as though he is trying to find something. You can't help but giggle, “Eddie Munson, nice to meet you.”  he says as he swings out his hand, “now, back to business.” 

You watch as he walks towards the football field with a sense of confidence only found in familiarity, which was then stopped when he turned around to see if you were following. You laugh and pull your lighter from your back pocket and run after him with a newfound sense of glee. Perhaps your parents could’ve found a new place to live, but right now you’re glad they didn’t. You follow the long hair in leather until you had passed the football gate, passed the bleachers, to the middle of the field. “No one ever comes out here unless it's football season, which doesn't start for another month,” Eddie explained and suddenly your anxiety from smoking in broad daylight seemed rather silly.  “Peaceful bliss, just moments away,” you say as you follow his lead in sitting, “Hmm, I feel a sense of Deja Vu.” he said with a laugh.  You were right next to a giant white line that seemed to have been painted only a few days prior, and there was something rather familiar to the artificial color of white grass. He nodded towards you to encourage the first toke be done by you and you hesitated, “what's in the spleef?” 

You see his lips form a smile and there was a second of fear, not of what could've happened but an undeniable sense of “oh god, who is this guy” He laughs at your pale face and shakes his head, his hair reflecting streaks of blonde while it moves. “Nothing but 100% sweet kush, the finest some may say” he says as he takes it from your hand and lights it up. You feel your anxiety dissipate again and with that, you took the joint and felt the familiar haze kick in. 

“My names (y/n) btw, you never asked,” you say with a laugh. You weren’t at all offended by it, but understood the humor of the situation. Maybe that was just the weed. Eddie smiled and laid back against the dewy grass, “(y/n) (y/n) (y/n),” your name feeling like a funny sound from his mouth, but you watched his beauty from afar. 

“If you’re not careful, I’ll get a sense of what you do at night,” you say with a wink, handing him his jay as you make a motion of jerking off a dick with your other hand. His face turned red and for a second you felt bad, “I’m sorry! I was just-” his laugh cut you off and your anxiety continues to dissipate. “Take another puff and relax, that was funny (y/n).” 

and so you did.

[westcoastrry]

Can’t Help If This Is Us

Hello friends. I’ve worked super hard on this fic. I’m not a fast writer so this took my while and I’m super happy with the way it turned out! Special thank to my bestie @harryforvogue​ . I wouldn’t know how to spell or about even write if it wasn’t for her so thanks you ugly fart face.

Also I wrote this entirely for free so all I ask is for feedback. I would really appreciate it and would love to hear your thoughts!

literally mate please let me know your thoughts. PLEASE. I beg.

WARNING: there is smut in this and mentions of the mafia.

I hope you enjoy reading Kiara and Harry’s story as much an I enjoyed writing it. 11.5k words

A fic about Kiara, a normal girl who works at a coffee shop in the upper east side of New York, where she meets Harry. A man who is caught up in a job he doesn’t want but is working hard to craft a better life for himself.

Fuck me like you wanna make love

Call me when you wanna stay in touch

Lie together just to gain trust

Say what you wanna say, can't help if this is us

Moving to New York was a fresh start for Kiara.

It’s only been a couple of months, but she has grown accustomed to the city.

She has an apartment in a not-so-great part of town, but it is close to her University, and the view from her balcony isn’t too bad. She is a coffee connoisseur, so when her pregnant friend and neighbor, Trina, helped her get a job at a cafe on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, how could Kiara truly not make the best of her newfound city life?

“An Americano please?” a deep British voice asserts.

Kiara’s cleaning off the steamer about an hour into her morning shift when the man with long chocolate curls speaks to her. Kiara has been working here for a month, and some very high profile people have come to the shop, but Kiara has never seen this man, but he sure looks important. He is in a suit, all black, and the only accessories are the multitude of rings he has on his fingers. The rose one catches her eye first, then the big gold H.S letter rings. Those are his initials? What is the point of that? Is this man obsessed with himself?

“Americano?” he says more lightly, snapping Kiara out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, I- Americano,” Kiara stutters.

Kiara isn’t one to get easily flustered, but how can she not be when this six-foot sexy man was towering over her in a suit, asking for black coffee.

Only real men drink black coffee.

She works around the machine expertly until the man’s voice interrupts her. “You’re new here?”

“Yeah,” she responds, swiping a curl off her forehead. Managing her naturally curly type four hair in the bipolar New York weather has been a challenge. Most days, she wears her thick hair in a bun, or when she can afford to get it done, box braids. “Started working here a month ago.” Kiara hands him the coffee in a brown to-go cup.

“Hmmm. I’m here all the time. I’m sure I would have noticed a new pretty employee.”

“Guess I’m not all that pretty then,” Kiara fires back, handing him a receipt with a pen to sign.

Harry doesn’t really know what to say to that because he actually does find Kiara pretty. He likes that her face is an even brown color with a few beauty marks. He likes the color of her light brown hair, and he really likes the sound of her voice. It’s sort of angelic, even when she is snapping at him.

Harry smugly hands Kiara his hefty card (the first indicator that this man has money) and signs the receipt. He drops some cash on the bill.

“That’s your tip. By the way, I do think you’re pretty.” His eyes flick down to her name tag. “Kiara.”

Kiara rolls her eyes at the man. He probably walks around life getting everything handed to him because he’s rich, white, and hot.

Screw him and his stupid cute dimple, Kiara thinks to herself. She goes to grab the receipt he signed and see’s two fifty-dollar bills stacked on each other.

Her mouth forms into an “o” shape. A hundred dollars on a three-dollar coffee? What sense does that even make? This had to be a mistake.

“Hey Kiara, are you okay?” Trina, who’s waiting tables today, asks. She has her brown apron tied over her baby bump with a few crumpled receipts and pens tucked in the pockets.

“I just got tipped a hundred dollars,” Kiara says, still shocked.

“You go, girl!” Trina enthusiastically shouts. “Who was it? A regular?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him before. Brown curly hair, dressed in a nice black suit-”

“Oh, that’s Harry,” Trina smiles. “Everyone loves Harry. He is a cutie. Been getting coffee here for a long time. He owns the strip club down the street.”

“I’m sorry. The dude owns a what?”

“A strip club bar type thing,” Trina shrugs. “Very fancy. It’s pretty much only for the elite. He is super nice. Everyone loves him here! He bought me a crib and this fancy high-tech stroller when he found out I was pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, he is kinda a dick if you ask me,” Kiara mutters under her breath.

“He tipped you a hundred dollars, and you’re calling him a dick?” Trina curiously questions.

“He called me pretty! And he had this arrogant ambiance to his voice. And what is with all the rings? It’s tacky.”

Trina places her hands on her hips.“Oh, just say you find the man hot! It’s okay to admit you find Manhattan’s most eligible and rich bachelor hot. I don’t blame you. I would get on it if I wasn’t thirty and pregnant.”

“I’m not admitting anything. Besides, I don’t have time for men. Men just cause problems.”

“Oh, you're telling me?” Trina points to her bulging belly. Kiara snorts at her friend and starts to walk away to grab more coffee beans from the storage, and Trina follows closely behind her. “You need to have some fun! Loosen up. Get your head out of that textbook. You have been living next to me for three months, and I haven’t seen you invite not one boy over! I know that vibrator you use is tired.”

Kiara grabs the box of coffee beans and turns back around to face Trina. “My vibrator is doing me just fine.”

Kiara’s whole life has been centered around academics. She was a really smart kid growing up. She had a good start to life too. However, Kiara’s wholesome childhood took a turn at twelve when her Dad died in a car accident. The accident was horrific for her entire family, but it hit her mom the worst. Her mom went from being a well respected physician's assistant, to being a drug addict, and Kiara had to grow up at the tender age of twelve just to take care of her mother. Around the age of fourteen Kiara’s mom got shipped off to rehab, and she ended up weaving in and out of foster homes until she was eighteen. Kiara realized that she never wants that to happen to her future family. She has been working hard on her academics because she hopes to have a stable income, so she can give her future kid the life that she never had.

It’s not like Kiara didn’t want to go and mingle around. Meet a new guy, have a one-nightstand, maybe even possibly fall in love. However, the dating scene as a brown skin woman in a whitewashed part of the city isn’t as easy as it sounds. Kiara doesn’t teeter the line of looking ethnically ambiguous. She is clearly a Black girl. Caramel skin, tight curls, full lips, and wide hips. Kiara likes these traits that she carries. In fact, she loves them, but men don’t. Specifically, men that aren’t her race. Not to mention that Black men are hard to come by in this particular part of city.

The simple fact is most white men don’t like Black women.

It’s even arguable that Black men don't even like Black women.

And Kiara is okay with that. She doesn’t need to be approved by a bunch of white people, nonetheless ones with penises. She just wishes she had more options to date within her race, or at least find someone who genuinely liked her.

Maybe that’s the reason why Kiara doesn’t want to go out and find a man to have some fun with. She knows he’s going to be white, and she will have to endure hundreds of questions about her race and her hair or meet racist parents, and she has done that all before.

So, for now, instead of explaining this to Trina, her very white friend, she will just blow off her questions about why she isn’t sleeping around or why she doesn’t entertain the idea of going to bars to find cute boys.

+++

The next day Kiara is off work. She spends her day sitting in her bed, in red pajama shorts and her university sweater, studying for her midterm. She got through quite a bit but is still a little worried about not getting an A. About an hour into her studying, she hears bickering from Trina’s apartment.

“I don’t know what you are being so shy about. Just ask her! You are great with girls.”

“No, I’m great at fucking girls. Trying to establish a genuine connection, I haven’t done that in a while.”

“I believe in you! Now go!”

Knock

Knock

It’s another guy that Trina has been trying to set Kiara up with. Trina does this about every other month. Very rarely does Kiara entertain the idea and sleeps with them, because she is bored, but it usually doesn’t go further than that.

Kiara opens the door to her apartment and there stands Harry. He is holding a boutique of red roses in one hand, and his other is behind his back. The suit he is wearing today is slightly different. Same silhouette, but this time the suit is brown. Kiara finally gets a good look at this man, and fuck.

Green eyes, full bright pink lips. Wide shoulders and defined biceps that show he does work out but isn’t a gym rat.

Gucci loafers. Now, this is an interesting man.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry nervously gestures to the flowers in his hand. “I brought you this.”

“You just came here to bring me flowers?”

“I also brought you this,” Harry pulls his hand from behind his back and shows a bottle of wine he got when he went on a business trip in Napa. He was saving the wine for a special occasion, like the next time he would go visit his mom, but this is more than a special occasion in Harry’s eyes. He is trying to swoon this girl.

Kiara smiles at him and grabs the wine bottle. If it’s one thing Kiara has learned in her adult life is that she loves wine. She usually only gets the cheap stuff from the liquor store down the street, but Kiara has never seen this bottle before.

She walked to her kitchen, leaving Harry staring at her dumbfoundedly. She pulled out two wine glasses from her kitchen cabinet.

Normally Kiara wouldn’t entertain this. Especially since she has a test to study for. However, she can’t lie and say she hasn’t been worked up...sexually.

“Alright, you brought me wine. You are welcomed in.”

Harry follows her inside the apartment, feeling a bit awkward. Usually, Harry never found himself at a girl’s place. He always took his one-night stands back to his house and had his assistant, Trevor escort them out in the morning.

Harry was nervous because this wasn’t a one-night stand. This was him bringing wine and flowers to a girls’ apartment, which he barely knows.

Just like Kiara, Harry also hasn’t been in the dating scene in a while. He has been busy with work, and it’s not easy what he does.

“So why did you come all this way to bring me wine?” Kiara asks Harry, pouring some wine into a glass and handing it to him. “I know you don’t live in this part of the city.”

“I don’t.” Harry sits on the barstool by the kitchen countertop. “I told you I thought you were pretty. Nice place, by the way.”

Kiara looks for the sarcasm on Harry’s face when he compliments her one-bedroom apartment but doesn’t find any. Kiara’s apartment isn’t ugly. But it probably is nothing compared to what Harry lives in.

Kiara takes a gulp of her wine. “It’s kinda trash actually. This is the ghetto.”

“You go to Columbia?” Harry asked, noticing her university sweater.

Kiara takes one more gulp of her wine, finishing off what is left in her glass. She was going to answer Harry’s question. She really was. But she got a good look at his bone structure. The way his jaw is a perfectly angled line. The way his Adam apple moves when he takes a sip of his wine. Even the way his fingers glide against the glass.

She begins to wonder how his fingers would feel against her.

“Kiara?”

That was it for Kiara because she doesn’t think she can keep herself composed in front of this beautiful rich man.

Instead of pouring her wine, Kiara grabs the bottle and starts to chug the wine like she is a trucker drinking a Samuel Adams.

Her lips remove from the bottle with a pop sound. Harry is now staring at Kiara completely taken aback by her actions. “What are you really here for, Harry? Sex? Because we can cut the small talk part.”

“Maybe I actually like you, Kiara.”

“You don’t like me.”

“Who told you that,” Harry counters.

Harry watches closely as Kiara struts towards him.

“I thought you were into blonde models?”

“Where are you finding this information from?” he questions.

“Google.”

Harry smirks. “So you’re googling me?”

“You know, if you wanted to know more about me, you could have just asked.”

Kiara cut him off with her lips attached to his. She wanted him to shut up, but she also wanted to kiss him.

Killing two birds with one stone.

Harry’s lips move in sync with hers, and he places his ringed hands on her back, pulling her closer to him.

If Kiara is being honest with herself, Harry’s lips feel like magic. It’s been a while since Kiara has kissed a guy, and she feels butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“Kiara, what are we doing?” Harry mumbles into her mouth.

“We are gonna go back to my bedroom, and you are going to fuck me. Hard.”

“A-are are you sure about that?” Harry stutters on his words.

“We both know you didn’t come here to take me out on some date. So let’s just do this.”

Harry should have confidently responded and said, “No, Kiara, that is not why I’m here. I’m here because I actually find you attractive, and I know you have been working at the shop for about two weeks now but I have been very nervous to ask you on a date.”

However, his mouth went dry because Kiara threw off her sweater and her perky boobs sat fully on her chest.

“Kiara-”

“You know,” Kiara rests the palm of her hands on his muscular chest. Kiara has the upper hand and she sees it in the way Harry was staring at her, gaping at her actions. She loves being this bold. Upper chest bare for a man who is practically drooling over her boobs. Kiara likes to be in charge, but only for a little bit. After a while she wants to be taken care of. In bed that is. “For a man of such little words, you are talking so much right now.”

Harry grabs both of her wrist, but keeps her hands placed upon his chest. He knows his heart is racing a mile per minute. Kiara feels it and for a second she thinks to herself that there is no way she is causing this man's heart to skip beats.

Kiara stands up on her tippy toes and lets her tongue dart out to touch right below Harry’s ear suckling on the spot until it turns a nice red shade. She detaches her lips with a pop.

“You want this,” Harry whispers.

“I need this,” Kiara responds back.

“Tell me what you need Kiara.”

Harry’s right hand brushes over her bare breast, causing her to buckle a bit and stumble onto Harry’s chest.

“Hold yourself up, love, and tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me,” Kiara whines.

With that, Harry holds Kiara's hips and roughly turns her away from him. Her hands went out and to grab at the granite countertop, holding herself up as much as she possibly could.

“How do you want it, hmm?” Harry whispers, quickly shrugging off his blazer and undoing a few buttons from his shirt. He begins to place wet kisses along the back of her shoulder. “I can fuck you right here, bent over the counter top. Or I can take you to the bed.”

“Here,” Kiara choked out through a moan.

“Can you handle it?” Harry teasingly asked her.

“I can handle it.”

“Can I take off your shorts?” Harry asks in a more serious tone.

“Mhmm, yes please.”

Harry shimmies down Kiara’s shorts. He takes the time to run his hands over her ass. The contact of her hot skin and Harry’s ice cold rings feels good to Kiara. She wants him to spank her, but she isn’t exactly sure what Harry is into and now she wishes she was sober enough to vocalize what she likes in bed so her needs can be met.

“Let's get a good orgasam out of you. Can I eat you?”

“Yes. God Harry, you're teasing me.”

“Not teasing,” he reassures her. “Just wanna know what you like.”

Harry gets down on his knees and opts for pushing her gray panties to the side instead of taking them off. Her core is glistening in her arousal and the smell alone makes Harry’s dick twitch in his boxers.

“Stop staring at it and-” Kiara cuts her sentence off with a yelp because Harry has attached his plump lips to her clit, giving her small kitten licks.

Kiara doesn’t really prefer to be eaten out. Most men's mouths don’t really do it for her. However, Harry is doing a very good job at keeping her legs shaking. She wants to turn around and look at him, but everytime she tries he delves deeper and deeper in her core, until she can barely hold herself up.

“M’mmm. A little higher please?”

Harry smirks against Kiara’s core because the little please she added to the end of her request tells him that she is slowly letting go of the tough exterior she puts up.

“Here? Is this good?”

“Yeah. Fuck right there please.” Kiara grips at the counter harder until her fingertips turned white.

“Been eating your veggies, huh?” Harry talks against Kiara’s core, the vibrations making her shudder. “You taste good love.”

Kiara is unable to respond because Harry is really going at it. His hands tightly grip Kiara's hips. His face is completely buried in her cunt, and he feels a slight ache in his jaw from the motions he makes with his mouth.

He continues to lick over her swollen folds, and then wraps his lips around her clit, which makes Kiara arch her back and push onto him. She is a panting mess, mouth wide open, eyes pinched together. She begins to thrash around but Harry grips even tighter at her hips.

“Stay still love.”

“I can’t,” she whined. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Why don’t you ask to cum?”

Kiara chokes on her spit slightly when Harry pulls his mouth from her pussy, and dips a finger inside of her. “Am I not entitled to an orgasm?”

“You are if you wanna be good for me.”

“Well if you're looking for a good girl I think you have come to the wrong place-”

Harry adds a second finger to her, which shuts Kiara up. “Ask nicely and you can cum.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be so-”

“So what?” Harry asks her.

“Dominant.”

“You're lucky I’m not spanking you.”

“What's holding you back?” Kiara challenged.

Harry gets up from off his knees, and his free hand reigns down a heavy smack on her ass.

“Ask me nicely,” Harry demands, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her.

“No.”

Smack.

“Ask nicely Kiara. I can do this all night.”

Kiara snaps her head back to look at Harry. “No.”

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

The three spanks that Harry had given to Kiara were much harder than the first. So hard that Harry started to see an outline of his hand print.  

It's when Harry gives her one more smack and pushes his fingers deeper into her, hitting a sensitive spot that Kiara gives in.

“Fuck, Harry please just let me come,” Kiara struggles to say with a couple tears falling from her eyes from being so wrapped up in pleasure.

“Say sorry.”

“I’m sorry. So damn sorry. Please, I'm so close.”

Harry laughed at how her personality has done a complete one eighty. She went from being a complete brat to now begging him for an orgasm. “You are?”

“Yes please.”

Once Harry feels her pussy tighten around his fingers he pulls them from inside of her. “I don’t think you are that sorry.”

Kiara let out a whimper at the loss of connection. Her legs are still shaking and she almost slipped off the counter but Harry was quick to catch her.

Harry's strong arms snaked around to the front of Kiara’s stomach, letting her stumble back into her arms. She felt Harry’s hard cock press up against her raw ass.“Easy now.”

Usually, Kiara would give Harry some witty comments, but right now she is too worked up from being so close to her orgamsm. She feels a bit fuzzy, not sure what to do next. Her core aches and all she can think about is getting off.

Her hands go down to rub at her clit, but Harry quickly smacks it away.

“That's my job tonight alright? You gonna let me fuck you? You're gonna be good so I can get you off properly.”

Kiara nods her head.

“Verbal consent Kiara.”

“Yes please.”

“Good girl.”

Harry’s smug voice echoes in her ear as he places wet open mouth kisses along her neck. Harry is really enjoying himself. She felt him smile against his neck when he started to coax soft moans out of her.

Kiara weakly pushes Harry's head away from her neck.

“Doll, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I'm good. Can we just take this to my bedroom?” Kiara politely asks. “I think I will be more comfortable there.”

When Harry gets a good look at Kiara, he can tell he has pushed past the first layer of her tough exterior. He knows there is probably much more fight and sass in her, but right now she looks vulnerable.

“Yes of course we can,” Harry held his hand out and Kiara willingly took it as he led both of them to the bedroom.

When they arrive, Kiara sits at the edge of her queen sized bed, and Harry lets go of her hand. She whines a little at the feeling of Harry’s hands slipping away from her.

Harry chuckles at the girl. “Let me just take my shirt off darling.”

Kiara watches closely as Harry’s fingers undo the buttons one by one. His silk shirt gilded easily off his toned shoulders. He made his way to sit at the top of Kiara’s bed leaning against the headboard, and Kiara crawled on her hands and knees toward him.

“Christ,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

Harry spreads his legs wider, which allows Kiara to sit comfortably in his lap. She let her hands roam up and down his tattoos starting with the birds on his collar bone. She then notices the butterfly right above his tummy. When she places her left hand on it, tracing the wings, Harry sighs contently at her touch. It’s a comforting touch, one that he has never experienced with his one-night stands.

Harry breaks a sweat on his forehead when Kiara continues to trace his tattoos. His broad chest stops moving up and down because he begins to hold his breath. He isn’t really sure what she is doing, but it feels good. Good enough for Harry to exhale and relax into the bed.

For Harry, sex with girls usually got directly to the point. Of course, there was foreplay, but not to any extent like this.

Having someone else’s hands on your body is a part of sex. However, this feels much more intimate than that. He’s got that feeling of butterflies in his stomach when Kiara begins to run her hands all over his body. It felt like he was in high school again, having sex for the first time and being so nervous because you don’t know what to do. But in this case, the nerves and butterflies don’t come from a lack of knowledge of the female anatomy. It comes from being completely enamored by the beauty this one girl holds.

And for just a second, Harry questions if he deserves this to feel the way he feels right now. Warm and a little drunk on the feeling of love. He doesn’t love Kiara, at least not yet anyway. But he feels like at this moment, Kiara cares for him. And even if she doesn’t care for him, he wouldn’t mind existing in this false reality he has created in his head for a really long time.

Something about having his body touched in such a vulnerable way is making him feel things he has never felt in his life.

“You have a lot of tattoos,” Kiara points out, fingers still tracing his butterfly tattoo.

“Yeah, I have been collecting them over the years.”

“Which one was your first one?” Kiara asks curiously.

Harry brought Kiara’s delicate hands up to the swallows on his chest.

“These ones,” Harry’s voice shakily said. Kiara takes her index finger and begins to trace the birds.

“How old were you?” Kiara asks, keeping her eyes looking at the birds.

“Sixteen,” is all Harry says, trying to keep his past where it belongs. In the past.

“That’s young. You don’t regret any of them?”

“No, actually. I think they all tell a story. Sure, some of them are stupid, but they all got some meaning behind them.

Kiara innocently brings her hand up to his cheek, cradling his face. “You gotta tell me about them one day. You have so many.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed in response.

“Let’s kiss some more,” Kiara suggested, wiggling her hips in Harry’s lap to find a comfortable position.

Harry nodded his head in response letting his lips touch Kiara’s, but not yet giving in to her request. His hands find their way to her lower back, and Kiara’s hands now have made their way up to his shoulders.

“You look good. You know that?” Harry says against her lips.

Kiara now has a grin on her face and blushes at Harry as if she has never received a compliment in her life.

Kiara brushes a brown curl off of Harry’s face with her index finger, “You can’t give me compliments while I’m buzzed off of wine because you might make me fall in love with you.”

Harry smiles. “Why don’t I just fuck you like I love you?”

Harry realizes what he said and awkwardly takes his hands off of Kiara’s body, nervously running his hands through his hair.

Kiara see’s the worried look on Harry’s face, but she is just a tad bit too intoxicated to process the weight of Harry’s words.

“Or you could let me fuck you,” Kiara bodly suggests. “I just haven’t done it in a while, so you might need to take over when my legs get sore.”

Harry nods, his forehead pushed upon Kiara’s. He kisses her again, and is taken by surprise when she lightly bites on his lip. She then gives a quick kiss to the corner of the month, and then his throat. She leans over to kiss his collar bones, and Harry takes the opportunity to grab a handful of her ass.

He then slowly peels her underwear off of her. He drags it slowly past her thighs looking down at her soaking wet core.

“You’re wet,” Harry mummers into her ear.

Kiara cups Harry’s dick through his boxers, and slides them off of his hips.

Harry groans in pleasure when he feels her hand touch his hard dick that is leaking pre cum.

“Don’t get too cocky now,” her hand lazily pumps at Harry's length, which she finds to be quite impressive in size.

“Kiara, don’t forget who is in charge here,” Harry grits through his teeth.

Kiara dips her head down to lick at Harry's heavy balls, she then continues her way up to his shaft until she makes her way to his tip and suctions her lips around the pink swollen flesh.

Harry looks down at the Kiara, who is giving him those innocent eyes, as if she doesn’t have his entire dick in her mouth

“Oh fuck me,” Harrys rolls his eyes, and lets his head fall onto the headboard.

“I will. But let me suck you off first.”

Kiara passes her thumb over his dick, and kisses all around the tip. She licks him up and down before taking him into her mouth entirely, making sure to make eye contact with him.

Harry places his hand gently over Kiara’s head, asking permission to touch her. She blinks at him signaling to him that it's okay.

He took a rough grip to Kiara’s brown curls, moving her head up and down in a steady rhythm.

“That's it,” he encourages as Kiara suckles on his tip. “Fucking hell.”

She pulls her mouth from Harry's length and gives him a few sharp tugs.

“Slow down,” Harry pants. “Want to be inside of you when I come. Can you handle it?”

Kiara swings one leg around Harry’s lap, her core just inches away from Harry’s throbbing dick.

“Yeah I can.”

“Well what are you waiting for?”

Kiara slowly slides down on Harry’s dick, and his hands cling to the sides of hips, coaxing her on her way down. Harry groans at how tight and snug she feels around him.

Kiara is about halfway down when the blissful feeling starts to hit her. She tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders biting her bottom lip.

“What's wrong? Thought you said you could handle it.”

Bravely, in one push Kiara glides right down Harry’s dick.

Harry groans with pleasure as soon as she makes it all the way down. His hands go out to grip her ass, and help her bounce up and down.

“That's it. Good girl. You like it when I call you that?”

“Yes,” Kiara responds, picking up her speed so that her tits move up and down with her.

“What do you want me to call you? I can call you my good girl, a slut, or whore. Which one do you prefer?”

“A whore,” Kiara is slightly embarrassed at what this man is doing to her, but she is so wrapped up in the lust of the moment that she really couldn’t care less.

“You're my dirty little whore, hmmm?”

Harry cranes his neck down to place a kiss on her tongue, lapping his tongue over her soft skin that smells like a floral scented perfume. He moans softly into her neck and squeezes at her fleshy hips.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m your dirty little whore,” Out of nowhere Harry thrust his hips up to meet hers. “Fuck, Harry!”

Harry placed a wet kiss behind her hair before speaking, “How about you get on your hands and knees for me. I can fuck you like that.”

“Okay,” Kiara withdraws herself from him with ease due to how wet she was. She props herself on her hands and knees and arches her back for Harry.

Harry places a hand on her lower back. He rubs the tip of his dick over her wet folds before pushing in.

Harry moves slowly at first, testing out the waters to make sure he isn’t hurting her. Her sweet moans are only egging Harry on, and he is sure he isn’t gonna last another five minutes inside of her.

“Please Harry. Fuck me faster please.”

Harry hands grips on Kiara's fleshy love handles. It is a little tight for her liking however the pain is quickly drowned out by the intense pleasure she begins to feel.

This is a dirty shag. Harry is pounding into her at such an extreme pace that Kiara can’t even get a full moan out. Her little “uhhhh’s” and “nggggs” only encourage Harry on.

Kiara’s orgasm hits her first and it's just as blissful as she thought it would be. Legs trembling, her arms are no longer propping herself up, instead her right cheek is pushed up on the bed, and a bit of salvia is foaming out of her mouth.

“I’m gonna, oh god Kiara. Just give me a sec- fuck!”

Harry’s orgasm shortly follows and it's just as euphoric for him as it was for Kiara. This was one of the most satisfying sexual encounters Harry has had in a while and he wants to enjoy every second of being buried in Kiara’s warmth.

Harry was about to pull out from her but when he looked down at where they were connecting he realized how fucked he was.

Not only did he not wear a condom, but he most definitely came inside of her.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles under his breath.

How could he be so careless? This has never happened to him. Harry has had quite the extent of sexual partners and he makes sure to always use a condom.

He wants to blame it on the wine but he didn’t even finish his glass.

“I need a second,” Kiara tiredly whispers, panting.

“I didn’t use a condom.”

“I’m sorry?” Kiara says still coming down from her high.

Harry runs his hand through his tangled hair nervously, “I didn’t use a condom. I haven’t had sex in almost a year though. I get tested regularly too. I’m sorry it just slipped my mind. I can run out and get you some plan B.”

“It's okay,” Kiara responds. She turns her head around to look at Harry. “Do you mind pulling out now though?”

Harry looks down at his dick, and then looks up at Kiara. “Oh yeah shit uhh.” He grabs on to Kiara’s hips and slowly pulls out of her.

“I haven’t had sex in like six months by the way,” Kiara slowly turns herself around to face Harry who has now tucked himself back in his boxers. “It could be longer honestly… it's been pretty dry here until now.”

“Yeah, same. Busy with work and what not.”

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence. Kiara has the sheets up to her bare breast, and Harry is not only taking in the raw beauty of the girl in front of him, and still beyond shocked he forgot to put on a damn condom.

“Well, I can get you some plan B. I think there is like a Target down the block from your apartment.”

“No, it's fine!” Kiara responds way too quickly. “I mean like, Trina has a stash in her car. I can steal from her in the morning. You don't have to rush out if you don’t want to. It’s not safe to drive at night, and you probably have such a long way to go.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Harry shakes his head. “No...errr it's not. I would really like to stay.”

“Okay well I’m gonna pee. And clean myself up. I can bring you some water?”

“Water would be great.”

Kiara nods at him, standing up so that her white sheet is wrapped tightly around her body. She knows that there is no reason to hide from Harry. He just took her from behind and called her a whore, but Harry isn’t just any man. He is a man who looks like a greek god, and fucks like one too. So Kiara couldn’t help but be a little self conscious.

Kiara quickly comes back with two glasses of water. She has even changed into an old ratty T-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear.

Kiara hands Harry a glass and he takes a sip, “You know,” she starts, crawling into bed next to him. “If you told me you fuck like that maybe I wouldn’t have put up a fight at the cafe.”

Harry blushes, setting the glass on the nightstand next to him. “Didn’t plan this, you know. Not that I mind. Trust me, I like this.”

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I thought you were cute.”

“Oh,” Harry playfulls wiggles his eyebrows, scooting himself closer to Kiara on the bed. “Please do tell me more.”

Kiara pouts at Harry until he places a kiss on her bottom lip, another sloppy wet one on her cheek. He grabs at her sides, tickling her.

“Har- Harry! Stop, please!” Kiara begins to laugh uncontrollably. She even attempts to pull Harry’s enormous hands from her body but has no luck.

“Okay, okay,” she gives up, Harry pulling his hands off of her. “It was the whole curly hair, suit thing. I love a man in a suit, and you know you got an Americano. You have good taste in coffee.”

Harry smiles. “You make good coffee.”

Kiara hums awkwardly, not making eye contact with Harry, instead opting to stare at his mermaid tattoo with abnormally large tits.

“I like your hair too,” Harry speaks up. “It frames your face nicely. It was the first thing I noticed about you.” Harry’s ringed hands make their way to the top of Kiara’s thigh, rubbing her soft skin. “Then it was all the pins you had on your apron. You have a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah I’ve been collecting them over the years.”

“You had one that said, ‘Don’t be a damn.’ What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Kiara shrugs, breathing out a relaxed sigh. “It was like my third year of undergrad. I studied abroad at the University Of Edinburgh, in Scotland and this guy who had a jewelry shop said it to me. The next day I came back he just gave me the pin and told me to always keep it with me.”

Harry smiles at Kiara with adornment, “I have family in Scotland. I’m from London though. Grew up there with my mum most of my life.”

“What brought you to New York then?”

“School then work. I went to Columbia,” Harry says, giving her the shortest answer possible. “I noticed you had it on your sweater earlier…. You know before you tore it off.”

“Shut up!” Kiara groans, striking Harry’s chest. “But yes I do go to Colombia. Just for my teaching credentials. I want to teach history.”

There is a beast of silence. “Are you sure if I stay the night? I don't want to intrude-”

“I want you to stay the night.”

Harry’s heart warms because no girl has ever said that to him. The feeling of butterflies swarming around in his tummy has come back, and he knows his cheeks are heating up in embarrassment.

“Alright.” Harry pulls Kiara’s body closer to him which makes her squeal in surprise. “Only if you keep me warm for the night.

+++

Harry is awake before Kiara.

Harry is used to waking up early for his job, and usually, he would be on his way to get his morning coffee and then head on down to the club.

However, he just can't leave the girl he just fucked last night.

Her breaths are short, and he can feel her heart thumping against his chest. She was properly attached to him, and Harry really liked it. Having her this close to him.

He takes the time while Kiara was asleep to not only watch her sleep peacefully but look at all the artwork she has displayed on her walls. There are no family pictures that Harry can spot, just a picture of her and Trina on her desk. It looks like they are at some club. Trina has a drink in her hand that looks like she is about to spill and Kiara is downing a shot.

Kiara stirs a bit in her sleep and Harry watches as she slowly blinks her eyes open.

“You're warm.” She blinks. “Do you want breakfast?” Kiara offers, nuzzling herself in the crook of Harry’s neck. “I make a really good omelet.”

Harry laughs. “Kiara I really can’t keep up with you.”

Kiara begins to innocently pepper kisses all over Harry’s neck. “What do you mean?” she pouts.

Harry groans once Kiara sucks on a sensitive right beneath his jawline. “For starters, you didn’t like me at all when we first met. Then we fucked because you claimed I was here just for sex. And now you are offering to make me an omelet.”

“What are you here for then?” Kiara presses.

Harry sighs, looking down at the pretty girl all tangled up in his arms. Harry knows exactly what he wants. He is twenty-seven and he is really looking for love. A life-long partner who he can come home to after a hard day at work. A partner who makes getting up in the morning all worth it. Someone who he can take out on dates, maybe even take to meet his brother.

He wants to take a leap of faith with Kiara. He wants to ask her on a date, however, he can’t bring himself to do that. He doesn’t want to put this girl in harm’s way because he likes her.

And it's not even about Kiara getting hurt. He would never let anything physically happen to the people he cares about in his life. It’s honestly about the hurt she would experience if something happened to him.

“I-”

Harry is interrupted by Trina barging into the bedroom.

“We will be late for the train if you don't get your ass up! You always sleep in--” Trina pauses once she realizes her best friend is wrapped up in her other best friend’s arms. “Oh fuck.” Trina points back to the door. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

“Shit,” Kiara grumbles to herself. “I forgot I had work.”

Harry watches as Kiara frantically pulls her underwear up her body. When she realizes Harry is staring at her, she turns around to slide on her black lace bra.

Harry isn’t trying to be that much of a dick, staring at Kiara while she is getting changed. It's just that her ass is littered with marks from his heavy handy, and a light bruise on her loved handles from holding her securely on his lap, while he pounded into her.

The bruises were tainted with the memory of last night, and Harry notices how every little mark told the story of their rough and passionate sex. Looking back on it Harry doesn’t know if he was too rough with the young girl. He doesn’t like that it was possible that he may have hurt her.

“You need to go,” Kiara demands, pulling her jeans on, and then her white shirt.

Harry picked up his white button-up shirt off the floor and threw it over his shoulder. “Kiara, was I too rough? Maybe you should put something on the bruises--”

“I’m going to be late for work Harry,” she snaps.

“Are you mad?”

Tears well up in Kiara’s eyes and this is very unusual for her. She never cries. She is not even sure why she is crying. She pauses for a moment not answering his questions.

“I’m fine,” Kiara answers with her back still facing away from Harry.

“You’re crying, Kiara.”

“I’m not!” Kiara yelled, throwing her hands up in the air turning around. “I- I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Kiara’s breath gets caught in the back of her throat. “I have school, and I work full time, and I’m interning at this elementary school...and that…” Kiara points to the bed. “That was the best sex I have ever had, and now I look like a complete freak.” She wipes a tear with the back of her hand. “I look like a complete freak because all we did was have sex and now I’m crying. It doesn’t have much to do with you I think. I’m just a little stressed.”

That was a complete lie and Kiara knows it. At this moment, she could care less about school or the stress of work. Its that empty feeling you have after sex knowing that this isn’t a forever thing. Harry will go back to being Harry, and she will go back to being Kiara. It is simply just sex...nothing more.

Harry gets off the bed in just his unbuttoned shirt and boxers. He tests the waters by placing a comforting hand on her back. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just show yourself out please.” Kiara walks away from Harry’s hold, grabbing a scrunchie off her desk, and her purse. “I have to go.”

Harry doesn’t stop her. He knows that if he stops her he is gonna want to kiss her. Then he is gonna convince her to come back to bed with him, and he can’t do that. For her sake.

+++

“Are we not gonna talk about it?” Trina asks while she is driving her SUV.

Trina and Kiara usually take the subway together. It works out much cheaper for the both of them, but they can’t be late for work. Not during the Monday rush. Kiara is in the passenger seat pulling up her hair and frantically covering up a few hickies on her neck from last night. Trina is driving just a little bit above the speed limit, trying to make sure they both get there on time, and also worrying about her best friend who isn’t her usual bubbly self.

“There is nothing to talk about, other than I need some plan B,” Kiara replies dryly.

“You're joking.”

“Nope. Pass me your purse.”

Trina keeps one hand on the wheel and hands Kiara her purple purse from the back seat.

“Kiara you had sex with my best friend. Unprotected sex.”

“Exactly just sex,” Kiara shruged, digging up the pill from the bottom of Trina’s bag. “And I’m your best friend!”

“You are both my best friends!” Trina argued. “You know the poor boy actually likes you right?”

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yes! Actually, he did! More than once!”

“He is lying. I’m just a normal broke student. And him? He is a fucking rich man but he looks like a literal greek god! Trina you know I googled him. His past girlfriends are models! White, skinny blonde models. I’m not white, skinny, or blonde!”

“He was a party boy in the past!” Trina retorts. “He likes you, okay? He just has trouble communicating his feelings. I know you like him too. You just have this strange idea in your head that you are not good enough for him! Which is ridiculous.”

“It's whatever,” Kiara huffs, pooping the pill in her mouth and swallowing it, “It was a hook-up. A simple one night stand.”

“It’s okay to want something more Kiara.”

“He doesn’t want something more! It's so painfully obvious,” Kiara throws her hands up in the air.

Trina knows how stubborn her best friend is. It's why they get along so well. They both have this hot headed temperament. However, Kiara never really likes to give herself time to relax. She likes to be busy but it is clearly taking a toll on her mental health.

“Let me take you out drinking after work.”

Kiara turned her head towards her friend and smiled. “Thank you. Now we are speaking my language.”

+++

While Kiara’s working, a part of her secretly wishes that Harry would show up for his americano. She is trying her hardest to convince herself that he is not worth her energy or time, but the sex is still fresh in her mind and it doesn’t help that her body is showing evidence of what took place last night.

There is still that dull satisfying ache between her legs, the sound of Harry calling her a dirty whore plays on rewind all day. She is practically daydreaming about having sex with Harry again while making coffee.

Harry was the first man to meet her needs in that manner. Sure she has cum during sex a couple times, but it wasn’t anything mindblowing. In fact her orgasms were usually underwhelming, but with Harry he knew what he was doing. His dominance was a complete turn on.

And sure Kiara could be fuck buddies with Harry. But she thinks she deserves a little more than just casual hookups. She wants a relationship because at the end of the day, she wants to build a family. A family that makes up for her broken one.

Kiara has sat down and contemplated this before. Is it inherently selfish to want to fix her childhood trauma with a family of her own, but fuck. Can you really blame her?

+++

When Kiara gets home she quickly changes into a simple black dress. It hugs her curves nicely and it's the dress she usually pulls out when she used to go clubbing with Trina (which has come to a halt because of her pregnancy).

The subway ride to the club is filled with laughter and Trina having to help Kiara actually get on and off the train (because she pregamed at the apartment).

Once they got to the club, Trina walks up to the front of the line with Kiara.

The bouncer's eyes lit up as soon as he saw Trina, “Hi Trina. Umm, should I tell Harry you are here? James is also here too. I can let him know as well.”

“Harry is here?” Kiara questions.

Trina whispers in her ear, “Yes, this is his club.”

“I’m gonna need more drinks if I have to look at his stupid face again.”

Trina playfully rolls her eyes, “Yes, you can let James and Harry know we are both here.”

The bouncer pulls out his walkie talkie and opens the door for Trina and Kiara.

Kiara supports herself on Trina’s arm as they walk into the club, “You didn’t tell me we were going to Harry’s club?”

“I know, I thought you might put up a fight about it.”

She probably would have put up a fight about it, however she wouldn’t actually mind seeing Harry's stupid, beautiful looking face again.

The club itself is beautiful. The ceilings are covered with mirrors, and hanging down from them were stunning crystal chandeliers. The chairs are red, and glass tables are placed strategically in each booth. There is also a bar with some red stools, and a huge red door near it.

“What’s back there?” Kiara asks.

“The strip club. But we don't need to go over there. C’mon you wanted some wine, didn’t you?”

Trina and Kiara made their way to the bar and a heavily tattooed girl with a name tag that says Drew is working on the opposite side of the counter mixing drinks.

“Hey, Trina! What are you doing here? You can’t drink.”

“It’s for my friend, Kiara.” Trina gestures to her Kiara, who drunkenly waves back at Drew “She will take some wine, something sweet. I’ll just have some sprite”

Drew grabs a wine glass and puts it on the table before walking away. “Coming right up”

“James is that new guy you are seeing, right?”

“Yes. He works for Harry.”

Kiara has heard Trina mention James on multiple occasions. She even thinks he has come to the cafe a couple of times for lunch, but Kiara can’t put a name to the face. She is unsure if Trina and James are dating, but she is not sure how far she should pry. She does briefly remember Trina telling her that James does not care about Trina being pregnant. In fact Trina told her one day during their thirty minute break at work that James is just happy to be a part of Trina’s family.

“Mhmm. So Harry owns this club?” Kiara asks, taking a sip from her wine that Drew provided for her.

“Yeah. He owns a few more too. I believe it's a family business or something?”

Kiara sighs before downing the rest of her wine. “Just eat the fucking rich already.”

“Kiara? Trina?”

Kiara spins around on her chair, holding up her second glass of wine that Drew had given her and made eye contact with Harry.

He looks breathtaking. Hair neatly combed out of his face, tailored suit, ring decorated fingers that Kiara thought was repulsive, but now she can't stop thinking about how they feel against her heat.

“Trina, it's Wednesday,” Harry sternly told her, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, slowly breathing in and out, trying not to lose his temper at his best friend.

“Are you not happy to see me?” Kiara says, standing up. She almost trips on her heels but Harry grabs her arm.

Kiara places her hand on Harry’s cheek. “I know you have to be happy to see me. You don’t fuck someone like that unless you hate them or love them. And who could hate me?”

“Okay!” Trina chippers up, grabbing her friend and bringing her back to the barstool. “Maybe we should get some water in you, okay?”

Harry is flustered because way too much is happening at once. Harry has told Trina multiple times that Wednesdays are not a good time to show up at the club. He has his meetings on Wednesday, and dangerous people are always floating in and out of the club talking business with Harry. He just wants to keep Trina and Kiara safe.

“Drew put all their drinks on my tab,” he tells the dark-haired bartender. “Trina, did you drive here?”

“No, we took the subway,” Trina answered.

Harry sighed frustratingly. “Okay. I'll take you two home. Just don’t leave here until I come get you.”

“Harry,” Trina starts. “I'm sure we will be fine. It’s not that big of a deal. James is here anyways--”

“Trina please.”

It's the crack in Harry's voice that caused Kiara to stop drinking her wine and look up at him.

Trina shoots Harry a look of sympathy. “Okay fine. We will stay here until you're done.”

Harry exhales the air he was holding in, a nervous habit he is still trying to break. “Okay. I will be done soon.”

“What's got his panties in a twist?” Kiara snorts as Harry walks away.

“I’m not sure actually,” Trina responds. “He is always stressed at work. I’ve been trying to get him to take a break for ages, but pulling that man away from his job is an impossible task.”

“He always seems so tense.”

Trina laughs, “Yeah maybe you can help him with that.”

“Well I see you have been helping his fellow associate...James.” Kiara wiggles her eyebrows at Trina.

Trina dramatically sighs. “Don’t even get me started on him.”

“What? I thought things were going great!”

“They are!” Trina assures Kiara. “But I’m still not sure what he wants. I’m pregnant and thirty. I really don’t want to fool around anymore. I want to settle down. The baby is coming soon and I won't have time for hookups and flings. He says he doesn’t mind that I’m pregnant, but he hasn’t said he wants a relationship with me.”

“Why don’t you just be upfront with him and ask?”

“Because I don’t want to scare him off!”

“You deserve someone who is upfront with their feelings, Trina. You are never gonna know until you ask.”

Trina sticks her index finger in Kiara’s face. “I’m not doing shit until you figure out what's going on with you and Harry.”

“Fine I’ll admit. The dick is good.”

Trina squealed. “I knew it, you filthy whore!”

“I'm just a little nervous. What if he is just hooking up with me for some weird black girl fetish? What if he is a racist?”

“I can tell you that's not Harry.”

“Am I ready for this?”

Trina takes a sip of her sprite. “I dunno. You know the answer to that question, not me.”

“Well I don’t know, and you don’t know. So that's my cue to keep drinking.”

Trina rolls her eyes and is about to tell Drew that this will be Kiara’s last glass of red wine until she makes eye contact with a man walking towards them.

“Fuck,” Trina grabs her purse then grabbed Kiara’s wrist. “Don’t talk to him okay? Just don’t look at him and maybe he will go away--”

“Trina... Haven’t seen you in a while.” The man's voice is heavy and dark. When Kiara looked up at him the first thing she noticed is that he is extremely well dressed, with a bling out watch on his wrist. “Who is the lovely lady you brought with you?”

“Leave her alone Dorian.” Trina says.

“What's your name?” The man reaches out to touch Kiara’s lower back but she flinches away.

“Don't touch me! Who do you think you are?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Feisty. Pretty too. You are one of Harry’s girls?”

“Excuse me? One of whose girls?”

“Are you not a dancer for the club?” the man asks in a condescending town that sets Kiara off.

“Oh hell no. You know damn well I’m clearly not stripping so what is it that you want from me?”

Trina leans into Kiara’s ear. “Kiara please leave it alone,” She grabs her wrist but Kiara quickly pulls it out of her grasp. “Let's just go.”

“No, let the girl talk Trina. She has quite a mouth on her anyway. Maybe she can put it to a much better use.”

Slap

Kiara’s hand connects with Dorian’s face before Trina could stop her. Trina knows her friend has a temper but so does Dorian. The slap slightly echoes over the music and gains a few people's attention including Drew, who stops mixing her drink and keeps her eyes on Dorian, who clenches his jaw and fixes his suit on his shoulders, trying to regain his composure.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters quietly.

“And what the fuck are you gonna… Ow!” Dorian roughly grabs Kiara wrist and drags her towards him.

He holds her hand above her head. “You don’t know who you are messing with. Do I need to show you?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kiara begins to squirm. “Let go of me before I kick you in the crotch--”

“Hmmmm. Maybe I should teach you a lesson. Don’t think Harry would mind if I borrowed one of his girls.”

“Refer to me as one of Harry’s girls one more time and I will do more than just slap you.”

“Dorian. Let her go.” Kiara’s eyes float from the man holding her wrist to Harry who is stalking up to her with a man right next to him. His voice was deep and assertive. Something Kiara never thought Harry to be other than when he was in bed.

Dorian lets Kiara’s wrist go and she stumbles back a bit towards Trina.

“Harry!” Dorian loudly greets. “I was just telling one of your whores she needs to watch that mouth of hers.”

“She is not a dancer, Dorian.”

“Oh, is she not? Such a shame,” Dorians eyes shamelessly rake Kiara up and down. “With a body like that I’m sure she could attract some clients for you.”

Kiara launches at Dornian but Harry is quick to grab her this time pulling her into his chest.

“Behave. Please,” he whispers in her ear.

“Dorian, you need to go.”

“Harry, you know better than that. Came here for my money. Come here every Wednesday to get my payment.”

“Well, you're not getting it today. Come by tomorrow.”

“Funny you say that since you know the history between me and your father--”

“I don't give a fuck about the history between you and my father!” Harry seethes stepping closer to Dorian. “You don’t see him here do you? I made you a deal. You will get your money, just not tonight. You don’t get to threaten my friends and then just demand money.”

“You don’t want to test me boy--”

“No, you don't want to test me. Not tonight. Leave.”

Dorian smirks at Harry before raising his hands up in defeat. “I’ll be here tomorrow. If you don’t have my money there will be problems.”

Harry watches Dorian walk fully out the door before turning to Trina and Kiara. “Both of you. My car now.”

“What just happened?” Kiara questions.

“Trina just take her to the car.”

+++

The car ride back to Kiara’s apartment is silent. Kiara sits in the back confused as to why Trina and Harry kept whispering to each other. A whole conversation is happening and Kiara’s trying to keep up, but she can only get bits and pieces of what the two are saying.

“I might be still drunk but I can hear you know.” That is a lie.

Harry’s eyes glance up to the rear view mirror. “Are you okay Kiara? He didn’t hurt you right?”

“No but I did hurt him. Slapped him. And if you didn’t come and interrupt I was about to kick him in the balls.” Kiara hiccups at the end of her sentence.

“She is right,” Trina agrees. “She is more of a fighter than she leads on to be.”

“Exactly!” Kiara yells. “So if you would have given me the chance I would have fucked him up.”

Harry, who was clenching his hand at the wheel during the whole drive, lets go and smiles. “I believe you Kiara.”

+++

Harry makes sure to walk Trina into her apartment safely, before helping Kiara to hers which was a challenge in itself because she can’t even walk in a straight line.

“Woah,” Harry says, wrapping his strong arms around Kiara’s waist trying to keep her balance. “How about you sit down on the bed?”

Harry helps Kiara walk into her bedroom and he slowly sits her down on her bed. Her hair is completely ruined, her dress slightly bunched up at her hips and her lips gloss slightly smudged. Harry thinks she looks beautiful. He is staring a little too long before he realizes he should help her take off her heels.

He gets down on one knee and his fingers begin to work on the claps of Kiara’s heels until she wraps her leg around Harry’s neck and pulls him closer to her thigh.

“Wine makes me horny.”

“I know,” Harry pushes himself away from her, no matter how tempting she looks, and goes back to undoing her heels. “But I think it would be smart if I get you to bed.”

“Why was that guy asking you for money?”

“Asking me anything but that.”

“Okay. Did you mean it?”

Harry slides one heel off her foot and looks up at her. “Mean what?”

“When we met.” He grabs Kiara’s other foot. “You said I was pretty. You meant it?”

Harry is silent for a couple seconds, his voice low. “Of course. Why would I be lying about that?”

Kiara shrugs as Harry glides her shoe off. “Guys are assholes. Well most guys are.”

“Mhmm. Where can I find some clothes for you?”

“Top drawer.” Kiara points at her dresser right in front of her bed. Harry walks over to get some clothes and places them on the side of her bed. “When I moved here I hooked up with this one guy from my class. I thought there was something going on between us ya know? He was nice at first. So I was gonna ask him if he wanted to go on a date because well, at that point we were hooking up. Turns out he had a girlfriend.”

“Sounds like a dick. Can I unzip your dress?”

Kiara nods her head and stands up hastily, turning around so her back is facing Harry. “I feel like I’m never good enough to be the girlfriend.” Harry listens closely as he zips Kiara’s dress slowly. Her delicate skin has goosebumps on it. When he gets all the way down to the top of her butt he pushes the dress off her shoulders, and allows her to step out of it.

“I’m good enough to hook up with. But never good enough to meet the parents or keep around longer than a couple weeks.” She turns around to face Harry, and grabs the shirt he picked out for her, throwing it over her head, and ignoring the pair of sweats he brought her, opting to stay in her underwear.

“So do you find me pretty in a fuckable way? Or do you find me pretty enough to keep me around longer than a few weeks?”

“Do you want me to answer that? Because you are really drunk, and my goal isn’t to scare you off.”

“Yes please,” she hiccups. “If you want to fuck around lets just be up front about it. Think I’ve gotten my hopes up about too many guys and I just wanna know.”

“Well I always think it's time for me to settle down,” Harry explains to her. “I’m twenty seven and my mum will not stop bugging me about it.” He laughs but Kiara stays silent. “I guess dating is just a bit confusing for me.”

“Confusing?” Kiara questions, tugging at the bottom of her shirt to make sure it is covering her butt.

“I really didn’t expect to be around this long. I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff Kiara, stuff that I really shouldn’t have done because it put my life at jeopardy. I think I never settled down because I didn’t think I was able to.”

“And what about now? Do you think you can settle down.”

Harry inhales and exhales quickly. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Kiara turns her back to Harry and walks to her bed. She is definitely disappointed in his answer, but she knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep seeing you Kiara,” Harry quickly responds, breathlessly. “I want to take you to dinner.”

“You don’t have to pity me Harry-”

“I’m not pitying you,” Harry cuts her off. “I like you Kiara. You're a nice girl, beautiful too, and I mean that. My life can be… menacing to say the least. I like you enough not to drag you into my bullshit.”

Kiara tiredly rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. “What exactly is the bullshit?”

“It's my family business and my family… Well, they are interesting people.” That is all Harry could tell her without explicitly saying, “Instead of going into finance with my business degree from Columbia, I had to join my dad’s mafia and fix all his mistakes while he lives in a mansion, even though all I have ever wanted was to have absolutely nothing to do with the “‘family business.’”

“You seem like you don’t want to talk about it.” Kiara is now sitting with her knees up to her chest on her bed and Harry is towering over her small frame.

“No. I’m not a big fan of my past. But I want to get to know you, and you can get to know me. I’m busy with work, and sometimes it's hard for me to open up, but I’d really appreciate it if we took this slow.”

Kiara pouts. “So that means I can’t convince you to stay the night? Even if I suck you off?”

Harry smiles at her. “No.” He places a kiss on her forehead. “But I will come get you tomorrow at seven for dinner. Does that work?”

“Yes it does. Thanks for bringing me home tonight.”

“Anytime. I mean that.”

Kiara flips over to her side, hands resting underneath her head. “Drive safe.”

Harry is unsure about his life. In fact he is unsure about leaping into this with Kiara. He knows they aren’t dating, and that's good for him. He needs time to figure out his life. He knows if he wants to be in Kiara’s life, he has to pay off his fathers debt’s and get out of the mafia, or else he will never truly have the life he wants.

Right now, he can see a future with Kiara. He can see himself waking up next to her, making breakfast. He can see himself enjoying a domestic life with her.

He knows he can’t have that right now. But he sure is gonna work like hell for it. For her.

[wellthebardsdead]

Everything I Wanted Sojiro X Fem Reader

Pasted from my old account. My works are by no means perfect and are riddled with grammatical errors but I do this for fun so, enjoy ~Bambi

~I had a dream... I got everything I wanted...~

How did it come to this?... why did it come to this?... you’d spent your whole life trying to be a good person, a model citizen, the daughter your parents always wanted, a perfect girlfriend and future wife to your boyfriend... you tried to become what everyone wanted...

~not what you’d think...~

You looked over the lip of the rooftop down at the city streets below. The rain made everything sparkle in the warm glow of neon light, it poured down your face mingling with your tears. Your hair wet and stringy, your blouse and skirt soaked... you took off your shoes and climbed over the railing before standing on the edge...

As your grip began to loosen up you heard a deep, firm, but gentle voice call out for you over the ambiance of the rain and the city life below. “Y/N!”

~and if I’m being honest it might have been a nightmare... to anyone who might care...~

———

You could hardly contain your excitement as you rushed into your apartment carrying the large garment bag, your dress was finally ready, it wouldn’t be long before the wedding.

To everyone who knew you, your life looked perfect, the model daughter of two successful entrepreneurs of a tech company that was recently sold allowing them to retire in luxury.

You were everything they wanted you to be. Beautiful, smart, poised, and kind. You lived in a nice apartment with your fiancé, a handsome and wealthy businessman who doubled as your manager at your parents now former company, your manager, his name was Hitoshi.

You’d worked so hard to build up this life, you thought it was perfect, if this is what everyone wanted for you this must be what you want right?...

After fumbling with your keys you bustled into the apartment. Your fiancé had already left for work. As you walked into the bedroom your heart fluttered seeing a red box, you set your dress and a folder of paperwork down and opened it to find an expensive set of lingerie, you gladly tried it on, it felt a little tight... You didn’t mind, you were losing a bit more weight before the wedding anyway. Maybe this was a surprise for the honeymoon he’d forgotten to hide, or maybe he’d left it as a bit of motivation for you.

Either way it looked nice. You took it off and placed it back in the box before putting your dress away in the closet. You had just enough time left of your lunch break to freshen up and head back to work.

After making sure you were presentable you left.. forgetting the folder of documents you’d left on your bed...

———

You worked as a secretary at your parents now former business, they offered you higher positions many times but you wanted to earn those positions, they were extremely proud of you for your decision. You worked hard, and you were due for a promotion very soon, one that’d move you to your fiancés department. You were so excited that you’d get to work along side Hitoshi.

As you approached the building you smiled seeing painters renovating the outside. They were applying the new owners logo, Shimada enterprise. You’d have to thank the new CEO for allowing your parents to retire.

You stepped inside and walked past the receptionist desk, it was empty again... There was a new girl working, Ichika. You weren’t sure of her last name but she’d been there a few weeks, and she had a bad habit of slacking off. You sighed spotting 24 missed calls on the phone. You some files on her desk before walking to the elevator and riding up to your office.

There were a couple men in the elevator, one a young gentlemen around your age, a nice blue and black vest, a white button up and smart black slacks. His hair was short with a slightly long fringe and he had well groomed facial hair. The other man was taller, dressed in a black suit, black hair greying slightly around the sides yet his face looked rather youthful, strong jawline, sharp eyebrows and a piercing gaze.

The two nodded at you in greeting and you returned the same with a smile assuming they must be business associates. They returned to their conversation and you checked through emails on your phone until the lift reached your stop. You couldn’t help but eavesdrop a little, apparently they turned up and the receptionist wasn’t there, after 5 minutes of waiting they decided to head up to find whomever was managing all the departments today...

As you stepped off you swear you heard one of them say to the other that you were cute. Your face went bright red and you booked it off pretending you didn’t hear.

Before heading to your desk you made your way to your fiancés office. As you approached it you saw Ichika step out giggling back at the doorway. She jumped seeing you standing there. “O oh miss L/N!! I was just dropping off some pap-” she stammered out before you cut her off. “That’s not part of your job. You’re meant to hand them over to me first for revision and then I hand them to whomever the recipient is. You’ve missed 24 calls possibly more in the time it took me to get here, and on top of that what appeared to be two business associates were left waiting at the front desk for you! Go back to your desk.” You say firmly. You were getting sick of her finding excuses to leave her desk like this.

She quickly scurried off past you, something about her... there was something that just rubbed you the wrong way. You stepped into your fiancés office and smiled seeing him there, he heard you come in and turned on his heal, “hmm forget something ich- Y-Y/N!” He stammered out surprised. The tone of his voice caught you off guard, “of course it’s me. Why do you keep allowing her to drop work to run files up to you? The phones have been ringing off the hook today and she wasn’t there to answer them.” You say annoyed.

“Ah come on Y/N, she’s new.” He says walking to you planting a kiss on your lips. “She’s been here for over 3 weeks, she has no excuse I’ve warned her plenty of times. Just because my parents no longer own this business doesn’t mean I’m going to allow the quality of our service drop.” You say before kissing him back. You caught a whiff of Ichikas perfume... maybe she just applied a little too much and brushed against Hitoshi, yes that had to be it...

He sighed. “If you say so.” He shrugged, “I’ll have a chat with her.” He smiled. You smiled back before kissing him again. “Thank you, she’s been making my job hard enough as is.” You sigh. “Thank you for that little surprise too by the way. It was very comfy~” you giggle. He blinked looking at you a little confused before it clicked in his brain. -shit!! I forgot to hide it!- he thought. “O-oh yeah baby! Ah damn it I was going to hide it for our wedding night. Did I leave it on the bed?” He says rubbing his head.

You nod and giggle. “Mhm, don’t worry~ I’ll pretend I didn’t see it.” You say placing a finger to your lips and winking. He chuckled and hugged you close giving you another kiss. “Thanks baby~” he smiled. “I gotta get back to work now, I’ll be home late tonight.” You sigh. “I’ve got a heap of new contracts I have to sort out.”

He nodded and smiled, “I’ll see you when you get home, no need to rush. Text me when you leave Kay?” He asks. He’d suddenly gotten into a habit of asking that whenever you’d be working late... you assumed it was just because he was worried for your safety working so late at night. You nod and smile, “I will.” You say before kissing him once more and walking out to your office.

———

The day dragged on and soon the afternoon turned into the evening. It was getting late and you were getting hungry.

As you finished the stack of paperwork you went to move onto the folder of contracts... it wasn’t there. You panicked looking through your bag, your desk, as you scanned your memory it clicked... the bed. You’d left it on the bed at home...

You sigh getting up, you’d have to go and get it. At least it’d give you an opportunity to get something to eat, and see your love...

Picking up your bag you called for a cab and headed to the elevator. You jumped as it opened to see one of the men from this morning, the one in the black suit. “Hm oh didn’t mean to startle you miss.” He chuckled a little, he had a deep voice, it matched his powerful exterior perfectly. “O-oh no no it’s fine!” You say flustered before stepping in and hitting the ground floor.

“You’re here awfully late. Do you often stay after hours?” He asked checking his watch. You shrug a little, “hm, not really sir. But these past few weeks I’ve unfortunately had to take up extra work due to the new receptionists underperformance.” You sigh. “Oh w-where are my manners! I’m Y/N L/N!” You stammer out bowing politely.

He chuckled, “it’s nice to see at least someone here is working hard then, it’s a pleasure to meet you miss L/N, I’m S-” the lift suddenly jerked violently and the lights shut off. You stumbled forward and prepared to hit the floor but instead you felt a pair of strong arms grasp hold of you keeping you steady. “Are you alright?” He whispers. He smelt so nice, a mix between citrus, sandalwood, and undertones of cherry blossom with a hint of musk.

You nod as he helped you up right. “I’m fine sir, th-thank you for catching me.” You were thankful for the lack of light, you could feel how hot your face was with blush right now. “Don’t mention it.” He says softly.

After another moment the lights clicked back on and the back up system kicked in. The power must have shut off... the lift opened at the ground floor and you were right, there was a huge storm outside, it must have cut power off to most of the street. At least with the backup generator you could keep working. “Would you like a lift?” He asked as you two approached the doors.

You went to answer as suddenly your cab pulled up outside. “Ah no thank you, this is my ride.” You smile and bow politely. “Goodnight sir.” You say before rushing out to the cab. You never did get his name.

As you got into the cab and drove off an omnic walked to the building holding an umbrella. “A new acquaintance Master Shimada?” It asked as he stepped under the umbrella lighting a cigarette. “Not yet... but... I’d like her to be.” He says as he walked to his car.

———

The taxi pulled up outside your apartment, you paid in full plus a generous tip asking them to please wait for you to come back before rushing inside. You’d forgotten to text Hitoshi you were coming but you figured it’d be fine. The power was out here but you could see light coming from the bedroom. Turning on your phone flashlight you spotted the folder on the kitchen counter... along with the now empty red box...

You turned the flashlight to see your fiancés shirt and pants on the floor leading through the hallway bedroom... you quietly walked towards it when you heard it, moaning... a woman moaning...

Creeping closer you peered through the opening in the doorway, big enough to see through, small enough to hide you from view... you stifled a shocked gasp as you saw your fiancé, with Ichika. She was dressed in the lingerie set and laying on her back between his legs...

Tears poured down your face... you turned and walked out taking the folder with you... you got back into the cab and returned back to work...

The driver was thankfully kind enough to give you the return drive for free after seeing the distraught expression on your face. You thanked him and returned back to your office... as you sat down at your desk you started to sob... you buried your face into your hands and you just sobbed.

It was around 2am when you finished the paperwork... you heard your phone buzz, Hitoshi. “Baby it’s late, when are you coming home?” You felt sick reading that, you replied simply. “On my way, we need to talk.”

You packed up your work for the night and turned off the lights. The rain had become little more than a drizzle at this point so you found yourself walking along the lonely streets. The power had come back on and the neon lights of store fronts sparkled in the puddles that lined the pavement. It helped distract you from the inevitable pain that awaited you when you got home...

———

You stifled back sobs as you quietly packed up your desk into a cardboard box. After arriving home last night you fought with your now ex-fiancé... he’d decided to leave you for Ichika. He threw you out after making you pack up all your belongings minus the furniture... and your wedding dress and engagement ring... -you don’t need need them. And they’ll look far better on her anyway! I spent too much money on this wedding as is to just cancel it- his words replayed in your head.

She’d be enjoying your wedding, wearing your dress, and your ring...

And to add insult to injury he’d given her your promotion too... and as a result gave you her job instead... now here you were moving your belongings down to reception all the while trying desperately not to cry...

You approached the elevator to see the doors closing, and inside Hitoshi and Ichika... they looked at you, and smirked... “hold the door!” That voice. You turned to see the man from last night approaching.

Hitoshi immediately panicked and held open the lift. “Y-yes sojiro san! I I mean Mr Shimada!!!” He stammered out. Your ears perked up, Shimada... this was your new employer!!

He stepped into the lift before looking at you. “Ah good morning Y/N. Aren’t you coming?” He asks gesturing to his side. You glance at your ex and his mistress before looking back at Sojiro... he had a nice smile... you stepped in and stood at his side.

Sojiro could sense something was very wrong... he wasn’t an ordinary man... -hurt... shes... hurt...- a deep booming voice sounded in his head. He glanced down at you to see your shoulders shaking and your lip quivering as you held back tears. And for whatever reason the two in the lift with you were the ones causing you this distress... -betrayed... betrayed... kill... kill...- the voice sounded again.

As soon as the lift doors open you stepped out quickly without another word and went to the receptionist desk. Sojiro watched you quietly begin to unpack your things before casting a glance at your ex that could cut holes through his soul... he watched him rush off with his new lover in hand...

He looked back at you... This shouldn’t be any of his concern but... His heart wanted you... -sad... help... help her....- the voice whispered... “I will... just be patient...” he whispered back.

———

A few weeks had passed by.

Youd gotten yourself your own place, a tiny and empty apartment... it was all you could afford on your new salary. Your bed was a futon, you had a small coffee table that acted as your kitchen table too, and a tiny kitchenette and bathroom...

You tried contacting your parents to ask them for help but to your horror they sided with your ex. They said you clearly hadn’t been performing well enough as his future wife so it’s only fair that he’d replace you... you hung up without saying another word...

Your life had crumbled around you, the life you’d spent your whole existence building. The one you were expected to build, the one everyone wanted... but was it what you wanted to begin with?... What did you want?...

Every day at work was a misery, Hitoshi and Ichika seemed to be intentionally throwing more and more your way, jobs that weren’t even any of your business were now your responsibility... they were trying to make you quit. And at this stage you were really considering it.

The only saving grace was your lunch break... youd find yourself up on the roof all alone. You’d eat there staring at the city life below. All those happy lives... It wasn’t long though before you had unexpected company. One afternoon you were surprised to find Sojiro had stepped out for a smoke, he asked to join you and you said yes.

He was so easy to talk to, despite his intimidating exterior he was so kind and honestly a little goofy in your company. He had the most gentle smile when he looked at you.

Sojiro wanted so badly to know more about you, to ask why you were hurting, to whisk you away from it all and take you somewhere safe. Every time he was close to you that voice in his head would sing out wanting you to be nearer.

He found himself at his desk late one night filing through paperwork, but all he could think of was you... curiosity got the better of him and he looked at your file. His heart fluttered seeing your face... he felt like a fool for hoping someone as young and pretty as you would want him, he hadn’t loved another since his wife had passed away giving birth to his second born. He was lonely, he buried himself in his work and any free time he had was devoted to his sons... but they were grown up now... and his heart was aching for love.

He looked through your file with interest. You were the daughter of the previous owners, the fact that you never mentioned it to him boggled his brain. He should have guessed that by your last name but even still he thought you would have mentioned it once at least... Maybe you didn’t want special treatment he wondered.

What didn’t make sense to him was why you were moved to a lowly receptionist job. You were practically over qualified for your old position too, heck you were more qualified for your ex’s position than he was.

His ear twitched hearing a low chittering noise from behind him. “Yes I know... isn’t she pretty.” He smiled reaching back and scratching the scaly cheek of a large black dragon... -help... her... help... love...- It groaned.

“Shhh I know... I know...” he cooed softly as it rested it’s head on his shoulder before changing to the size of a large snake and draping itself around his neck. He gave it another scratch before continuing to read your employee file... his eye caught the document below yours, Ichikas.

He read through hers and scowled, there was no way in hell she was qualified for your job, he could feel his dragon tense up before it snarled at the screen. “Shh... don’t worry... we’re going to fix this.” He cooed.

———

You sighed stepping into work, you had trouble sleeping last night after the storm woke you up. Summer in Japan was beautiful but the humidity often lead to some extreme weather. And last night the thunder and lightning practically shook your tiny apartment to its foundation. Thankfully it had died down to just a downpour, but it was supposed to be picking up again this evening...

Shaking off your umbrella you walked to your desk and blinked. A stunning arrangement of flowers all heavily significant of love sat on your chair, along with a box of chocolates. There was only a card that said “To my dearest Y/N, I hope this gift brings you reason to smile..” No signature... you didn’t recognise the handwriting either. Even still... it wasnt a cheap assortment, someone must care.

The gift was just what you needed to put a little spring into your step. You proudly displayed the flowers for all to see and you picked one of the chocolates to enjoy, you’d save the rest for when you went home.

You wore a smile on your face throughout the day, and it only got bigger as everyone who approached the desk commented on how pretty they were, and how lucky you are. Despite the rainy weather outside this was a much needed ray of sunshine in your life.

It was nearing your lunch break, you hadn’t seen Sojiro today. Normally he’d accompany you on the lift, or stop by to say hello... you felt dumb for missing his absence but... he’d become the only positive you had left in your life now... you’d developed feelings for him... you thought maybe... you wanted him...

The rustling of leaves and petals caught your attention. You looked up to see Ichika plucking flowers from your gift. “H-hey cut it out those are mine!” You shout standing up. “Oh get over yourself Y/N! It’s just a couple for my desk.” She says waving her hand before reaching to take another. You grab the flowers and move them away. “You mean my desk that you fucked my ex to get you homewrecking cow!!” You shout.

She scowled and scrunched up her nose. “Woooow real professional Y/N. Bringing personal life into work. Why don’t you act your wage and-” a deep voice suddenly cut her off. “Get back to work.” Your heart fluttered, Sojiro...

You both looked at him as he approached. “Y-yes sir I was just telling her t-” Ichika stammered out as he stepped between her and the desk. “I was talking to you.” He scowled. She practically shrunk under his gaze before skulking away.

He watched her leave, his stance proud and fearsome, it softened as he looked at you. He always looked so relaxed around you. “Are you okay Y/N?...” he frowned.

“Y-yes...” you lie. No. No you weren’t okay. Your whole body was trembling and tears were already pouring down your face. He took your hand in his and handed you a tissue to dry them. You were so distraught you didn’t even realise he was holding you as he led you to the lift for your lunch break.

There was an undercover area on the roof, with a table and chairs, it offered a nice view of the cityscape despite the rain. While everywhere else was drenched, here it was bone dry. You calmed down after he sat you down, even still your lip quivered as you hiccuped pitiful little sobs.

He dried your tears after a moment and handed you a sandwich from a cafe you liked. He’d gotten into a habit of bring an extra one for you knowing that money was tight at the moment. “...I’m sorry you had to see that...” you whispered. He glanced at you as he lit a cigarette, “don’t be... if I’d heard another word leave her mouth id be apologising to you for witnessing me punch her.” He says taking a drag.

“You wouldn’t have to apologise to me for that...” you smile sadly, your eyes red and tired... always so tired now... he wanted to see you happy, rested, enjoying your life... he wanted to give you the life you deserved... you were everything he wanted. But he was afraid you’d reject him because he was older... or if you did accept him... would you accept all of him?... The gentle businessman facade was only a part of who he was...

“I don’t think I’ll be around here much longer anyway...” you say suddenly as you take a bite of your sandwich. His stomach dropped. “What? Why?” He says sounding more upset then you were expecting. “I just... I don’t belong here anymore Sojiro... I see my ex and that.. bitch every day... my parents don’t even want to be associated with me anymore.” You sniffle.

“Then I’ll fire them.” He says simply. “what? N no please! Don’t...” you say softly. “Just.. because my life didn’t work out doesn’t mean thei-” you try to protest but he cut you off. “Your heart is too kind for your own good Y/N... very well... but if this continues then I’ll have no choice.” He says stubbing out his cigarette butt as you finished your sandwich. You nod and placed the empty wrapper in the bin. “I understand...” you say softly.

You hated your ex, you hated Ichika, but you were too kind a person, you didn’t want revenge, you just wanted them to leave you alone... “y/n...” Sojiro says as he gently took your hand. “I... have something I want to as-” a younger mans voice sounded from the lift. “Tou-san! There you are! The meetings already started!” You recognised him, he was one of sojiros sons, the oldest. You’d seen him the day you met Sojiro in the lift. Hanzo you think is name was.

Sojiro sighed pinching his brow. “I’m afraid it’ll have to wait. I’ll talk to you later y/n. Come on.. let’s head back in before it gets too heavy.” He says softly. You nod and stand up, still holding his hand. He held his coat over you as you two ran back to the lift. His son gave you two a look, not one of disapproval, more of a knowing glance. As if to say when are you two getting together...

The three of you chatted until they had to get off at their floor. You said your goodbyes and returned to reception. You were feeling better, talking with Sojiro always cheered you up. As you walked to your desk though the spring in your step died... the flowers were gone...

You rushed to your desk to find them in the bin, crushed with all the heads cut off. And the chocolates all eaten. There was a sticky note on the box that simply read ‘thanks for lunch :)’ it was Ichikas handwriting... next to it there was a mountain of folders, and another note that read, ‘I want this done by tomorrow morning...’

You held back a sob, your chest hurt, it was getting hard to breath... you cowered under your desk ignoring the phone as it rang. The walls were caving in, your face felt tingly and your head tight, your hands cold and numb with sweaty palms. You’d grown up your whole life dealing with anxiety attacks, the pressure to be perfect was overbearing. You should be used to them but they were never this bad before.

-ground yourself... think of something you like, something you want...Sojiro...- you thought... immediately the pressure in your chest released... you thought of his scent, his eyes, his smile... his hand holding yours... you had to talk to him...

After a few moments you composed yourself... it was over... you got up and sat in your chair, emotionally and mentally drained... they say everyone no matter how happy has their breaking point. And you were at yours...

———

~Thought I could fly~

———

It was around 9pm... you’d finally finished. You started to pack up when a loud slap made you jump out of your skin. You look up to see a large folder of paperwork in front of you and Hitoshi and Ichika walking away laughing. “This too, I want it on my desk tomorrow by 7am!” Hitoshi says waving at you. “Oh and, thanks for the chocolates~” Ichika laughed as they stepped out heading for their car... you fell back into your seat... defeated...

You just sat there... watching as the downpour outside turned into a storm... it was 11:30pm when you finally stood up. You walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water onto your face in an attempt to look presentable... you saw your reflection...

Your hair was a mess, your eyes tired and heavy, your lips cracked and bloody from chewing at them, and your skin pale from stress and stained with tears. You stared into your sad eyes, “failure...” you muttered to yourself... Once the ‘perfect’ daughter your parents always desired, the once perfect girlfriend, the once star employee... all gone... all that was left was your bare self,... and you didn’t even know who you truely were.

You’d lost everything, everything you’d worked so hard to build up, the perfect life everyone wanted... but was it truely what you wanted? what did you want?... you wanted to escape...

The bathroom door creaked as you exited and headed for the lift...

...

~so I stepped off the golden mm,.. nobody cried...~

...

You didn’t hold onto the rails as the lift carried you up, you didn’t so much as flinch as it stopped either, you stared right ahead. There’s no such thing as a perfect life... and if there’s such thing as a perfect person it wasn’t you.. you’d failed everyone... you were never the perfect daughter... nobody would love you... nobody would miss you...

...

~Nobody even noticed, I saw them standing right there...~

...

The rain bucketed down in sheets... you looked up at the clouds as lightning flashed and the thunder roared like the cries of an angry beast... you threw your head back and started to laugh as tears poured down your face, you screamed at the storm as it did to you...

You walked to the edge...

...

~I kind of thought they might care...~

...

You looked over the lip of the rooftop down at the city streets below. The rain made everything sparkle in the warm glow of neon light, it poured down your face mingling with your tears. Your hair wet and stringy, your blouse and skirt soaked... you took off your shoes and climbed over the railing before standing on the edge...

As your grip began to loosen up you heard a deep, firm, but gentle voice call out for you over the ambiance of the storm and the city life below. “Y/N!”

...

~I had a dream, I got everything I wanted. But when I wake up, I see, you with me~

...

You look back to see Sojiro running towards you... He stopped just feet away, holding out his hand to you. “Y/N it’s alright... I’m here... come here...” he called softly.

“I’m going to do it!! Don’t try to stop me!” You screamed at him, “I’ve tried so hard to be everything everyone wanted me to be! I tried to do everything right! I’ve fucked it all up! It’s my fault he left me! It’s my fault my parents disowned me!! I’m not what they wanted!!” You cry.

He took another step closer, “Forget what everyone else wants of you Y/N!! What do you want?” He asks... What did you want?... you look down at the city below... “do you want this?...” he asked.

“No...” you reply. “Come down then... come to me...” he cooed... -he’s what I want...- you think...

...

~And you said...~

...

“Come here Y/N... as long as I’m here no one can hurt you...” he says stepping closer again.

As you turned around your bare foot slipped on the cement, and your grip on the railing released... you looked at him as you fell...

...

~I tried to scream... but my head was under water...~

...

It felt surreal, you fell with the rain. It was as if the droplets were suspended in mid air as you whizzed past them. The wind lashed at your drenched body and whistled through your ears, all you could hear was your heartbeat.

...

~they called me weak... like I’m not just somebody’s daughter...~

It didn’t feel real... you watched as suddenly Sojiro jumped off the edge after you... and in seconds he held you tightly in his arms.

You swear you saw a flash of black scales before suddenly the world went black...

...

~Could’ve been a nightmare...~

...

You opened your eyes briefly as you were shifted into someone’s lap... you were in a car. You recognised that scent... Sojiro... you were safe.. you let out a soft sigh as you felt him shift his coat around you and rub your back... your eyelids fluttered closed again and you faded back into unconsciousness...

———

The sound of bird song woke you up... you opened your eyes to find yourself in a very traditional buf luxurious looking room. The bed you lay in at first looked like an ordinary futon but that was only the blanket. The bed itself was imbedded into the floor like the worlds softest nest.

There were two doors, one that must lead further into the building and another that was open, it lead out to a beautiful garden. You saw sparrows and red breasted robins bouncing about on the porch eating seed. The sunshine danced in the ornately groomed trees and sparkled on the ponds surface, It was picturesque.

“Ah! Good morning miss L/N. I’m so happy to see you’re awake! Master Shimada will be so happy to hear you’re alright.” A female omnic voice... you look back at the doorway to see a very elegantly designed geisha like omnic enter with a tray. On it a lovely breakfast and some juice.

“Oh hello... I... where am I?” You ask as she set the tray in your lap before going about her tasks. “Hanamura castle of course. Master Sojiros home.” She giggled. It took a moment for that to register in your brain. The man you’d been conversing with as if he were your best friend, the man who saved you last night, was practically royalty.

“Wha?...” was all you could manage out. She could only giggle, “I understand it’s much to take in. Master Sojiro wanted to be here for when you woke but he had some business to attend to at the new enterprise, oh! Speaking of which. He wants you to stay in bed today... but if you wish to go to work he has a car for you to take.” She says as she began to comb your hair.

The idea of staying in bed after last night sounded perfect but... “may I take the car please? I have so much work to do I can’t rest...” you say softly. The need to be perfect, the need to please others... it had been beaten into your mind... you were hardly holding yourself together right now...

Even still the omnic didn’t argue. She got you dressed into a blouse and skirt that costed more than anything you’d ever owned and she escorted you to the car. “Are you sure you don’t wish to change your mind?” She asks after helping you into the car. “I don’t know what I want anymore...” you say meekly. If she could frown that comment would have made her do so with worry... “I’ll inform master Sojiro.” She says bowing before closing the door.

The driver started the engine and the next thing you knew you were off. You’d only ever been to hanamura a few times, it seemed to always be blanketed in pink. The land of eternal cherry blossoms all year round until winter would come and coat everything white.

You’d always wanted to live here... but your parents wanted you to live closer to the business, closer to them... but now... maybe you could live here after all. What did Sojiro mean by wanting you to stay in bed? Why did he bother saving you? How did he save you for that matter? Why these nice clothes? These gifts? Did this mean he wanted you?... no... he was just pitying you... you were sure of it...

The car pulled up in the underground car park, it was mostly used by the engineers who designed prototypes for your company, you’d rarely been down here at all in your time with the company. The omnic driver stepped out and opened your door for you before you had the chance to. “Th thank you...” you say softly. He helped you out and nodded. “I’ll be down here when you’re ready to leave madam.” He bowed.

You nodded and thanked him once more before heading up to reception... you blinked seeing Ichika sitting at your desk looking pale as a sheet. “Where’s my stuff?...” you ask softly, your voice so quiet and tired.

She nearly jumped out of her skin seeing you. “I.. I I i” she tried to speak... she looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Y/N!” Sojiro suddenly called from behind you. You didn’t think it possible but Ichikas face went even paler...

He rushed over and gently embraced you as you turned around... you melted into his touch, so desperate for positive contact. “What are you doing here? You should be resting.” He says softly but sternly. You look down at your feet and nod. “I-I had paperwork I never finished last night for Ichika and I left my bag here too I-I’m sorry.” You stammer out.

You jumped as he cupped your chin in his hand and made you look up at him, “it’s alright... your stuff is in my office dear. If you insist on working I have a few things I need organised. But I’d like you to please take it easy today.” He says as he stroked your cheek with this thumb.

Your face went bright red at the contact, you nodded. “Y-yes mr Shimada.” You squeak out. He chuckled, “why so formal now?...” he smiled. “Come along Y/N, I’ll get you settled into my office then I have to attend a meeting with some... unsavoury individuals.” He says glancing at Ichika who’d been gawking this whole time. She jumped and immediately got back to work...

He took your hand in his and pulled you close, your face was beat red now, you walked beside him obediently to his office.

After getting you settled with the paperwork you had to organise he suddenly placed a blanket and pillow on the large sofa he had near the bookshelf. “if you get tired please rest. One of my sons will come by to check up on you around lunch time.” He smiled. God, his smile.

You nod and immediately get to work, “y/n...” he suddenly says. You look up and almost jump out of your skin. How did he cross the room that quickly? and without you noticing? “I hope Ive made it obvious enough that asking this question would be foolish of me but...” before he could finish the door opened. “Tou-san. They’re waiting for you.” A young man entered, Sojiros youngest, Genji.

He had green hair and wore a nice suit similar to his fathers but had a tie matching his neon hairstyle. He looked similar to Sojiro, definitely had the same nose and eyebrows, though his eyes seemed a lot more bubbly than his fathers. He must get them from his mother.

Sojiro sighed and nodded. “Very well.” He looked back at you. “I need to speak to you after I’m done. I might be a while. So if you need to rest please do.” He says gently taking your hand and squeezing it before walking out. Genji looked at you and gave you the same look Hanzo did but, he looked a little more giddy than his older brother had. He bowed politely before closing the door.

The day ticked by slowly. Genji returned around lunch time as promised with something for you to eat. You two chatted as you ate, he was a lot more talkative than his father but just as easy to get along with. He mentioned that everyone in the company had heard of what happened last night, and they all knew Hitoshi and Ichika were to blame. That’s what the meeting was about apparently, a full staff briefing of workplace harassment followed by a private sit down with your abusers in question.

You wondered why you weren’t attending the full staff one but it made sense you didn’t, you weren’t well right now... and it seemed Sojiro wanted to keep you as far away from Ichika and Hitoshi as possible.

After eating Genji said his goodbyes once again before leaving you to your own devices... you looked at the paperwork... it had to be done but. Sojiro wanted you to rest... you wanted to make him happy... you wanted him. So you climbed onto the sofa and cuddled the blanket close. It wasn’t long before you were asleep.

-sleep... safe now... no one can hurt you...-

A deep but gentle voice sounded in your head. You looked up and saw those scales, the ones you remembered from last night... you followed them down to a pair of sharp claws. Then up to a large snarling lion like face... a dragon... “Safe...” it spoke. “What?...” you reply.

It lay it’s head down to be eye level with you. “You’re safe now...” it whispered, it sounded almost like music. “As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.” It repeated.

You reached your hand out and touched its nose making it sniff at you, “am I dreaming?... who are you?.. why am I here?...” you whisper. “You’ve suffered much your whole life... they tried to mould you into what they wanted. So much so that you’ve forgotten who you are... what you want... if I could change the way you see yourself... you wouldn’t wonder why you’re here.” It said nuzzling your hand.

...

~they don’t deserve you...~

...

You opened your eyes feeling a warm familiar hand on your cheek, it was just dark outside now... you blush seeing Sojiro smiling down at you, “did you sleep well?” He whispered. You nodded in response. “It’s time to go home now...” he sighed, “y/n... Will you come home with me again?... and live with me permanently?” He says softly.

It took a moment to click, he really did want you... you thought you were still dreaming, but it felt too real. “I... do you want me to?” You ask softly. He smiled and stroked your cheek, “the question is... do you want to?” He chuckled a little. “I... I...” you pause... “I want you.” Silence.

“I I mean! I want to be with you! That sounded too forward I’m so sorry I’ll go n-” you ramble out before his lips cut you off.

You let out a surprised gasp before your eyelids fluttered shut. You leaned into the kiss and he pulled you close and held you so gently it brought tears to your eyes. This was it... this is what you wanted. As you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders he scooped you up and cradled you like his new bride. “I promise... I’ll look after you...” he whispers. You nod in response.

He gently lay his coat over you and carried you from his office. He stepped into the lift and hit the basement level, the car park. You rested your head against his chest and hummed softly as he pressed his lips to your forehead. “What would you like for dinner dear?” He asks as the elevator suddenly stopped on the ground floor. “I... um...” you tried to think but your thoughts were silenced as the lift opened.

You blinked seeing Hitoshi and Ichika standing there both looking pale and terrified. Behind them, Hanzo and Genji stood quietly. Genji had seemingly ditched his suit jacket, his tie hung loose around his neck, and in his hand he held a baseball bat. -oh! He must be into sports!- you think innocently.

Sojiro gracefully stepped to the side allowing your ex and his mistress in, followed by his two sons. The ride down was painfully silent, you noticed Ichika and Hitoshi growing more and more agitated by the second... yet Sojiro and his sons remained calm as ever, smiling even.

You blushed a little as Sojiro held you closer, you couldn’t tell from this angle but it was clear he was looking at your ex, as if to say look at what you lost, she’s mine now. It made you feel so special.

As he shifted you, you caught a glimpse of something on his neck, tucked away under the collar of his shirt... a tattoo?... part of one... Tattoos weren’t uncommon in Japan, but they were heavily associated with the yakuza... no... maybe he got it as a memorial for his wife? Maybe it’s her favourite flower? Maybe it’s to show his love for his sons? Any of these were valid reasons. He couldn’t be a criminal, he couldn’t...

You glanced at hanzo... you could see a hint of blue ink on his exposed wrist... then Genji, you could see what looked like a green dragon through the fabric of his shirt... -calm down. I’m sure it’ll be okay. I’m sure they must have an explanation for this- you think.

The elevator reached the ground floor and the doors opened. Immediately Hitoshi and Ichika stepped out and began walking a little too quickly to be normal, they must have gotten a big talking to from Sojiro...

Hanzo and Genji both looked at each other, before glancing at their father... Sojiro nodded, and the two stepped out after your ex and his mistress... you felt a knot forming in your stomach...

Sojiro stepped out still holding you tightly as he texted the driver to come around to the lift entrance. “I know a place not far from here, I think you’ll like what they serve there.” He says smiling at you... you didn’t notice. You were too focused on Genji suddenly bringing the bat down hard on Ichikas back knocking her down before swinging up and hitting Hitoshi.

Your voice died in your throat watching the scene unfold. Hanzo pulled Hitoshi to his feet before punching him across the face so hard it broke his jaw. Genji swung it down on his legs breaking them in several places. Ichika got up screaming and pulling at the two trying to save your ex...

From the shadows of the car park several tattooed men in suits stepped out, they all looked at Sojiro... he nodded. Genji and Hanzo both stepped back, dropping Hitoshi’s now dead body to the concrete allowing the thugs to take over and deal with Ichika. You watched in horror as they flogged the living hell out of her... her screams burned into your mind...

“Y/N...” Sojiro whispered gently turning your head to face him. His expression wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t happy either, it was serious but... soft as it always was when he looked at you. “They don’t deserve you. Or your pity... they’ll never bother you again.” He smiled.

You nod, your whole body was trembling, you couldn’t make a sound. You were in shock. “Come, lets go home and then will see how you feel about dinner.” He says as the car pulled up. The omnic driver stepped out and opened the doors. Hanzo and Genji got in first, as Sojiro sat you in your seat you caught a glimpse of Ichikas face, still alive, still screaming, bloody, broken... they’d wiped that smug smile off her face for good... you felt guilty, but... part of you felt so good...

Sojiro got in and closed the door, his body keeping you from seeing anymore. He placed his arm around you and held you close. And here you sat, in an expensive car, with three extremely dangerous men. You look at Hanzo and Genji who were busy cleaning the blood off of themselves, you heard Genji muttering about it staining.

Hanzo looked up and smiled catching your gaze... it’d seem both the boys approved of your relationship with their father... you smile back and tiredly rest your head against Sojiro once more... Maybe... this would be okay...

———

~I had a dream... I got everything I wanted~

———

The car pulled up back at Hanamura castle. The boys jumped out first and rushed off inside to get cleaned up, undoubtably they had more than a little blood in their clothing.

Sojiro stepped out and lifted you back into his arms. He’d been silent the whole drive. He took you back to the room you’d woken up in, it was pretty clear now that this was in fact his room. “...I’m... sorry you had to see that Y/N...” he says removing his tie after he set you down on the bed.

You couldn’t answer, you couldn’t even find the words to after what you’d witnessed... “Y/N...” He says softly.

After a moment you willed yourself to look up at him. He was shirtless now, his body was god like. Perfectly toned muscles, smooth skin adorned with scars, and a giant black dragon tattoo that started at his neck and twisted around his torso. You assumed it kept going down to his leg but his trousers cut off your view. It was the same dragon from your dream... you were unsure if you should ask him about it but.. right now you weren’t sure about anything really...

You blushed and looked down shyly. He chuckled a little at the cute display of bashfulness. “Look at me Y/N...” he says kneeling down in front of you. You sheepishly obeyed looking at him. You locked your eyes with his gaze and felt entranced, you couldn’t look away... you didn’t want to...

“I’m sure it’s obvious what I actually do for a living by now my dear... but I assure you... I’ll keep you far away from any of my yakuza dealings... I never meant for you to see that... my temper got the better of me, I should have held off but...” he clenched his jaw, “They hurt you...” he sighed.

You trembled remembering the ordeal, but, after a moment you settled. Sojiro did that to protect you, to save you... he didn’t have to but... part of you couldn’t help but feel they deserved it. Even still, your lip quivered as tears threatened to pour.

He suddenly leaned in and kissed you. You gasped in surprise, but after a moment all your doubts, all your fears... everything melted away... you leaned into his touch as he pulled you into his lap deepening the kiss. His hand trailed down and rested on your waist, he wasn’t looking for sex, not tonight... Tonight he just wanted to hold you and keep you safe.

After a few blissful minutes you both broke the kiss gasping for air. Your eyes were dewy and your lips pink and swollen from the passionate embrace. “Let me look after you Y/N...” he says pressing his forehead to yours. “Let me give you everything you deserve... everything You want.” He whispered looking into your eyes.

You nod and lean in kissing him softly before pulling away. “Please... look after me...” you whisper. He kissed you back. “I will...” he sighed as a smile crept onto his lips once more.

It was comfortably silent for a moment as you rested your head against his chest, the skin on skin contact felt so nice, you didn’t realise how deprived of it you were. Your stomach suddenly growled and your face reddened as Sojiro laughed. “Oh, right, dinner!” He chuckled. You’d give anything to hear him laugh more often.

“Let’s get ready, the boys can come along too, they want to know more about their future step mother.” He smiled. Your face went a deeper shade of red and you buried your face into his neck shyly. You were so happy you couldn’t handle it.

He smiled and planted another soft kiss on your forehead. “Care to share a bath with me?” He whispered. You nodded maybe a little too eagerly. He couldn’t help but chuckle. He scooped you up and kissed you once more on the lips before whisking you away to the bathroom.

It’d still be a long while before you’d be better, but Sojiro would be there every step of the way to hold your hand and assure you you were loved. But for now, it’d seem you finally got everything you wanted.

...

~But when I wake up I see...you, with me...~

...

[hpotterwhore]

INSATIABLE

warnings: gryffindoor female!reader, angst, some jealousy, mention of a hickey.

a/n: this is the first part of a three part series?? i’m really bad a summaries so i apologize 😔 also this is set in 6th year and there are some flashfowards between each part! there is an oc that i added just for the sake of it.

word count: 1417

summary: you had been bestfriends with harry since 3rd year, becoming inseparable. when harry starts seeing someone, you become an outsider only to realize you should be the one by her side.

—

i admired myself in the mirror. gryffindor won their first quidditch match of the year and even though i didn’t play myself, i couldn’t just not support my house. besides, my friends worked hard and deserved this.

i went with a black, form fitting dress that accentuated my body perfectly. it was one of the things that gave me confidence. i remember hermione telling me when harry asked her what he should get me for my birthday.

“you wouldn’t believe how frantic he was!” hermione laughed out. “harry really did try hard, i do hope you like his gift y/n.”

i made my way to the common room, everyone inside already lively and cheering on. i found my spot in the corner, watching from afar. i much preferred to keep to myself and my few friends, but i love seeing them happy and i’d always do anything to keep them that way. fred made his way over to me, mischief radiating off of him.

“so y/l/n, enjoying yourself?” he asked. i adore the twins, they’ve always been there for me aside from harry, admittedly, i have always been a bit closer to fred. “course i am fred, sitting in a corner is always a highlight.” i responded sarcastically. he punched my arm playfully. “you need to put yourself out there! what about relationships, aren’t you interested in anyone?” he raised his eyebrows. in complete honesty, my love life has been pretty dull. i’ve put so much effort into my studies that i hadn’t really seen the point of getting in a relationship. i’ve had a crush once or twice, but never anything serious. i didn’t really see the point.

“afraid not.” i said. truthfully, i had a small crush on harry back in 4th year, but it was just that. a crush. time passed and i got over it. fred studied my face to see if i was lying, but he couldn’t tell if i was or not, so he backed down. “fine, i’ll lay off, see you around.” he winked at me before walking off to join everyone else.

i looked around the room, taking in the ambiance when harry made eye contact with me and motioned for me to come with him to another less crowded part of the common room. he always considered at how much i hated large groups, and he preferred i be comfortable. i always admired how considerate he was — and still is.

“nice party, harry” i smiled. “it is? isn’t it?” we sat down on one of the couches and caught up a bit. he’s been so busy with quidditch practice i haven’t really been able to see him. breaking the silence, i asked him a question that caught him off guard.

“is it odd that i haven’t dated anyone?” i asked. harry tilted his head. he knew i was never one to care about relationships, and honestly was confused as to why i cared now. “no, not at all. why do you ask?” i looked down, fidgeting with my dress. “no reason. just curious, is all.” suddenly feeling the weight of the room, you contemplated leaving the party early. harry being harry, he noticed this. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, you know.” he reassured as he patted my knee. “no it’s okay! i want to be here for you guys.” i told him. it was partly true, i really did want to congratulate them on their win. but i will probably leave a bit earlier than i intended to.

we sat for a few moments before a girl walked up to harry and gave him a small peck on the cheek. i gave him a look of confusion. had harry ever talked about her before? she was insanely pretty. he wrapped his arm around her waist, “oh right! y/n, this is my new girlfriend.” he smiled contently. she waved at me, “hi! i’m genevieve, but you can call me eve!” i slightly nodded my head and gave her a small smile. “okay..hi eve.” i responded. i didn’t mind that harry was dating, but why didn’t he tell me? we tell each other everything. “so, how did you and harry meet?” i asked. harry was about to speak before she cut him off. “oh it’s the funniest story! i’ll tell you.” she sits down next to me and went on about how they met. i mostly tuned it out, giving a nod every few minutes o show i was interested.

“-and that’s it! cute, right?” she linked harry’s arm with hers, turning to him. “yeah.” he said, less than enthusiastic, which i’m sure only i picked up on, because eve began to talk again more bubbly than ever. “should i tell you about-” stopping her before she could tell another story, i gave them both a simple smile. “i’m gonna go to bed, i’m getting pretty tired, see you both later.” i stood up and left.

i truly was tired, so i took a shower and threw on a baggy t-shirt and some shorts. i tried going to sleep, only to be kept awake by my thoughts. i knew i shouldn’t be bothered, but i was a bit hurt.

usually me and harry were in sync. and i was beginning to feel that maybe this new girl was the reason i hadn’t been able to see him that often. she seemed super nice, just overly enthusiastic. and if i’m being honest, totally not harry’s type. unsure as to why this bothers me, i opt for being happy for harry instead, and actually get some sleep. if only i had woken up with the same attitude.

the next morning

hermione wanted to wake me up for breakfast, being the early bird that she is. after attempting and failing, she noticed i was in fact awake, i just wasn’t getting out of bed.

sitting on my bed, she tried to coax me downstairs to the dining hall. “y/n, come on! i’m hungry.” she pouted. i gave her one look, and turned over. “wait- is something wrong?” she said, sincerely. that’s another thing, hermione could literally read me like a book. which sometimes i was grateful for, and i knew that if i didn’t tell her what was up now she’d get it out of me later.

“did you know harry was dating?” hermione blinked at me, and gave a dry laugh. “i think he mentioned it once or twice.” she trailed off, putting her pointer finger to her chin in an attempt to help her recall her memory. “why, does he have a girlfriend?” she asks.

i get up, and start changing but continue the conversation. “yes actually, i met her last night.” you said flatly. hermione narrowed her eyes at me, before saying. “that’s why you didn’t want to get out of bed this morning—you’re jealous?” you matched her gaze, quite shocked at the insinuation that you would ever be jealous of someone who was with harry. 

“no!” you answered far too quickly. “i mean, i’m just upset harry didn’t tell me, you know?” you reasoned. unfortunately, hermione wasn’t buying it but she was was willing to let it go for now. “hm. fine, let’s go get breakfast?” you nodded, following her out of your dorm.

truthfully, i didn’t really eat much, hermione and ron were ogling each other the entire time. and something was still bothering me in the pit of my stomach, although i couldn’t figure out what. “hey y/n!” harry said, arriving later to breakfast than usual. in fact, everyone was almost done. “hi.” you responded. he furrowed his brows, shocked at your coldness. i usually greeted him with a smile, but i just wasn’t in the mood today.

he sat down next to you, his usual spot of course. “you okay? you seem a bit..off” he noted. turning to look at him, you prepared to respond when you noticed a hickey just above his collar bone. you suddenly didn’t want to be there, and completely ignored his question. “i um, i’ve gotta go.” i stood up, running to the closest bathroom.

i still had some time before my first lesson, so i took it to compose myself. “what the hell was that, y/n!” you exclaimed, staring the girl in front of me down in the mirror. then, as if your day could get any worse, another girl walked in. “oh! y/n, right?” i recognized the voice from last night.

you’ve got to be bloody kidding me.