#forced proximity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

riddikulusravenclawbelle · 22 hours ago

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false god

plot - A stolen moment at a party turns into a ticking time bomb when a photo of Rafe and Belle surfaces in the wrong hands.

warnings - angst, curse words, & alcohol

wc - 4.3k

final notes - hi icon!! this is chapter 6 of the ruin me gently series. it took a little longer bc i wanted to get the angst just right :P enjoy!

The air by the dock was thick with the weight of what just happened. But it didn’t feel wrong — not like she thought it would. Her heart hammered louder than the waves crashing beneath the dock. She could feel Rafe’s breath on her cheek, taste the salt in the air, smell the faded cologne still clinging between them.

Belle Maybank had just kissed Rafe Cameron.

And she didn’t feel bad about it.

She didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

For a moment, everything stopped — the world, the noise, even her own doubts — and it was just Rafe and her, for what felt like the first time.She wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. Her breath caught as she looked up at him, her throat tightened, eyes wide, pulse racing.

Then he smiled — the kind of barely-there smile that sent a wave of heat straight through her.

"You don’t have to go," he whispered, his voice low and almost gentle, the tension from moments before melting into something else entirely.

All the feelings rushed back — guilt heaviest among them. Belle froze, her skin burning under the weight of his words.

She should have stayed, but everything in her screamed to retreat, to pull away before she gave in to whatever this was. "I... I should," she murmured, her voice shaky, but it wasn’t because she didn’t want to. It was because she did.

Her feet moved before her brain could catch up. She stood, taking a shaky step back, the heat of his kiss still burning on her lips.She glanced at him one last time, and for a second, she swore she saw something flicker behind his eyes — the same thing she felt.

Unspoken. Unacknowledged. But there.

"See you around," she whispered, already hating herself for how small her voice sounded. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but with every step away from him, the ache only grew louder.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to stop. The night was still too young. And something in the way he looked at her — like he was waiting for her to come back — made her want to run straight back into his arms.

But for now, all she could do was walk away — keeping that kiss tucked beneath her ribs, hidden where nobody could see.

And she hated how badly she wanted more.

How delicious Rafe Cameron tasted.

────────── ✦ ─────────

It had been a few days since Belle had since Rafe–not because she was avoiding him. Because she just hadn’t been on that side of the island.

The fire crackled low, painting everything in shades of gold and ash at the Boneyard. Around it, the crowd of the party had thinned — pockets of people laughing too loud, someone wrestling over a bottle of tequila near a truck bed.

Belle lingered near the outskirts, tucked between Kiara and Sarah, pretending to listen as they debated something about paddleboards and the next surf trip.

Her thoughts kept drifting, though, and her gaze kept drifting across the flames.

Rafe.

Standing with the Kooks, beer in hand, laughing at something Topper said. But his eyes were locked on her. The same look he'd given her on the dock.

A familiar heat crawled up Belle’s neck, and before she could stop herself, a small smirk tugged at her mouth.

Rafe’s lips curved, just barely — a private, razor-thin smile no one else would notice — and he took a slow sip of his drink.

Belle ripped her gaze away before anyone could follow the invisible string between them. She tossed her empty cup into the sand, brushing her hands on her shorts.

“I’m gonna walk a bit. Get some air,” she said lightly, nudging Sarah’s arm.

“You good?” Sarah asked, raising a brow.

Belle nodded, her chest tight. "Just need a minute. Cool off by the ocean."

Kiara grinned. "If you get eaten by a shark, I’m not saving you."

Belle rolled her eyes playfully. "Duly noted."

Her heart was pounding harder than it had all night as she slipped into the darkness, not daring to glance back.

She didn’t need to. She knew he would follow.

The air cooled against her flushed skin.

And then — footsteps behind her.

She didn’t turn. Didn't need to.

"You always leave parties early?" Rafe’s voice drawled low, tugging at the base of her spine.

Belle smiled without meaning to, still facing the water. "Only if they’re boring."

He chuckled, rough and wrecked. When she finally turned, she bumped into him — he was right there. His hands slid onto her hips, pulling her close as his eyes raked over her, heat radiating off him.

He smiled, cocking his head. “Maybe you were hoping I’d follow you.”

Belle raised an eyebrow, her pulse quickening. "Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Rafe."

He was close enough now that she could see the sharp cut of his jaw in the moonlight, smell the beer on his breath, the salt in his hair.

Neither of them moved for a heartbeat.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear, "if I was flattering myself, we'd still be back there."

Then, as if it was inevitable, he reached for her — his hand sliding to her jaw, tilting her face up — and kissed her.

It wasn’t careful. It started sweet, but it didn’t stay that way for long.

It was months of tension snapping all at once. Messy and passionate, desperate and real.

Belle made a soft moan against his mouth, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him in even closer. Rafe groaned low in his chest, backing her gently against the cool stone of the rocks, bracketing her in like he could somehow shield her from everything — from everyone.

When they broke apart, Belle was breathless, grinning despite herself.

"You’re dangerous," she whispered.

Rafe grinned, tilting his forehead to hers. "Only if you kiss me like that again."

Belle laughed under her breath, her smile softening. "No promises."

She pulled him in again — softer this time, less urgency, more wonder — like she still couldn’t believe this was real.

He slid a hand by the hem of her shorts as she swatted his hand away playfully.

“Save it for next time,” she teased, smirking.

Rafe exhaled slowly, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered, “You have no idea what you do to me, Belle Maybank.”

Neither of them noticed the pair of eyes watching from the shadows.

Olivia, half-hidden behind a slab of driftwood, arms folded tight across her chest, mouth twisted into a sharp, cruel smile. She didn’t need to see much.

She'd seen enough.

Enough to snap a photo.

Enough to go forward with her plan.

The sound of the ocean still rang in Belle’s ears, but she stepped back, brushing sand from her shorts, trying to steady her breathing.

Rafe caught her attention gently before she could fully turn away.

"Belle."

She looked up at him, the moonlight catching the ocean flecks in his eyes.

"You’re trouble, you know that?"

Belle smirked, cocking a brow. "You’re one to talk."

He didn’t say anything else — just tugged her hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist like he couldn’t help himself.

The spot burned even after he let go.

Belle backed away slowly, never quite turning her back on him, her grin not quite fading.

When she finally disappeared around the rocks, she didn’t have to check to know he was still standing there, watching her go.

She found herself wandering back toward the fire, weaving through the thinning crowd with an empty cup in her hand, just for something to do. The buzz of the party was low and lazy now, everyone sunburnt and half-drunk, the night tipping into something that felt private when she returned to Kiara and Sarah.

Noticing their drinks were near empty too, she suggested they grab more drinks.

When she reached the drink table, eyes scanning for anything that didn’t taste like lighter fluid and heavy regret, she barely registered the figure that moved beside her — until a warm hand brushed against hers.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

Rafe.

Pretending to grab a bottle, casual, effortless — but close enough that the heat of him curled around her skin.

“Still taste you on my lips.” He whispered close, by the shell of her ear, softly yet seductively.

Belle’s fingers fumbled the plastic cup in her hand, almost dropping it.

By the time she whipped her head toward him, Rafe was already stepping away, beer dangling from his fingers, sliding back into the pocket of Kooks by the fire like he hadn’t just set her entire body on fire.

Belle pressed the cool rim of her empty cup to her lips, trying to hide her flushed smile.

Nobody noticed.

Nobody but her.

She only stayed a little longer. Everybody had left anyway.

She left too — mentally. Her mind was still with him.

On the docks.

Under the moonlight. Sharing their first kiss all over again.

────────── ✦ ─────────

“Hey, B!” JJ yelled to wake Belle up.

She groaned in response, wanting to be enveloped by sleep again.

“We’re going to get more surf wax and sunscreen from the surf shop, you coming?”

She sighed. “Yeah, yeah, one sec.”

The sharp ding of the bell over the door sounded as Belle pushed into the Kildare Surf Co., the salty breeze following her inside.

JJ trailed after her, tossing a playful arm around her shoulders. "You’re lucky I even invited you to come," he teased. "I had important shit to do today."

Belle smirked, ducking out from under his arm. "Oh yeah? Like what? Shotgunning beers with John B?"

"Exactly," JJ grinned like he was proud.

“If you’re lonely, just say that,” Belle said with a smirk, laughing under her breath as she headed to the back aisle where the wax and fins were. JJ peeled off toward the front, already distracted by a shiny new set of trucks for his board.

The shop smelled like sunscreen, wax, and ocean air. Comforting. Normal.

Belle let herself relax a little as she browsed — until she caught a flash of black hair out of the corner of her eye.

She froze.

Olivia.

Strolling between the aisles like she had all the time in the world.

Belle’s stomach flipped. She turned sharply, pretending to study a rack of rash guards.

Too late.

"Hey, Belle," Olivia purred, voice dripping with false sweetness as she peeked over the shelf dividing the two. "Fancy seeing you here."

Belle forced a tight, fake smile.

JJ’s laugh carried from the front of the store — talking to the cashier about a fin set.

Belle’s heart slammed against her ribs.

"You're really good at hiding it," Olivia said, voice low enough no one else could hear. She leaned in closer, her perfume cloying. "But not good enough."

“What do you mean?” Belle’s mouth went dry, they both knew what Olivia meant.

“If you want to play dumb, I could show you and your brother right now.” Olivia smiled maliciously.

Belle looked at JJ, checking out. He was almost done, putting his items in his bag.

“I have proof,” Olivia said, voice low.

Belle forced herself to keep her eyes on the rash guards, but her grip tightened.

“You’re bluffing.”

Olivia walked around the shelf, and shoved her phone into Belle’s face.

And there it was.

There it was — Rafe’s mouth on hers, caught mid-kiss. His hand frozen in time, half-slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts.

All color drained from Belle’s face, and Olivia regained her smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, but it was all teeth.

"You’ve got a choice, Maybank," she whispered. "End it. Or I end it for you."

And with that, Olivia breezed away — all sunshine and sweetness — just as JJ turned down the aisle, oblivious.

"Yo, Belle! You ready?" he called.

Belle plastered on a smile she didn’t feel and shoved the sick, twisting feeling deep down.

"Yeah," she croaked, grabbing the nearest board wax without even looking.

She followed JJ out into the bright sun, the weight of Olivia’s threat suffocating her.

The little bell over the surf shop door jingled as they stepped out into the afternoon sun, JJ tossing his new fins in the air and catching them lazily.

“What’re you thinking about? You’re looking all moody over there.” JJ said playfully, pushing her to the car.

“Oh, nothing,” Belle sighed dramatically. “Just how badly you’re going to wipe out this Saturday.”

“Yeah,” JJ said. “You’d know about wiping out. You looked like a fish out of water last week.” JJ mocked.

“Shut up, asshole!” She giggled, chasing JJ to his truck.

JJ reached for the truck door, shaking his head and smiling. "Keep talking that shit. See what happens."

Belle smiled back at him, her heart slamming against her ribs like it wanted out. She breathed in. Out. Like nothing was wrong.

────────── ✦ ─────────

The steering wheel creaked under Rafe’s grip as he took another sharp turn down the marsh roads, the BMW’s headlights slicing through the fog.

He needed to think. Usually driving would fix all of his problems. But of course it wouldn’t with her.

Where the fuck was she?

He hadn’t heard from Belle in almost twenty-four hours.

No texts. No calls.

Nothing.

It wasn’t like her. Not after that night — not after the way she kissed him, touched him, looked at him like he was something more than the mess everyone said he was.

The memory twisted in his gut like a knife.

The sound of her angelic voice, the way her fingers tugged at the back of his shirt — all of it burned behind his eyes.

Rafe slammed the heel of his hand against the dashboard while sitting at a light.

"Fuck," he yelled.

He needed a drink.

Something to shut it off. Shut her out.

The Wreck was the nearest place open this late, the parking lot half-filled with the usual Kooks and stragglers looking to kill brain cells on a weeknight.

Rafe didn’t care.

He needed to feel something that wasn’t this sick, clawing need for her.

He killed the engine, grabbed his lighter, and shoved the door open.

The second he stepped inside, the smell of cheap beer and salt hit him — and then something else.

Something sharper.

Something familiar.

Rafe froze.

Because across the deck, under the flickering fairy lights and cheap neon, stood Belle Maybank.

Laughing at something John B said amongst the rest of the pogues.

Her hair messy from the breeze, her mouth — that mouth — curved into a smile Rafe had no part of.

The blood drained from his head and roared in his ears.

And just like that, the spiraling stopped.

It wasn't gone — it was worse.

It focused.

On her.

Without thinking, Rafe shoved through the crowd, cigarette still tucked between his fingers, hoodie pulled low over his face.

His chest burned with something brutal and ugly — a sick mix of need, betrayal, and fury.

She was really gonna pretend like he didn’t exist?

Not a chance.

He called her phone immediately in hopes she’d abandon the group so he could talk to her.

When her phone lit up – Rafe Cameron

Belle froze. She looked at the screen, really looked at it. And shoved it back in her pocket, a sad expression falling on her face.

“You good?” Kiara asked.

“Uh, yeah just,” she paused. “Lacy, my friend, we got in a fight so” her voice trailed off.

“Aw, I’m sorry that sucks.”

“Yeah,” She smiled downward. “Hey, I’ll be back, yeah?”

“Bring us drinks when you come back Belle!” Sarah yelled happily unaware.

“Yes!” John B quickly–and drunkely agreed, landing his eyes on Belle.

Belle slipped into the bathroom and stared at her reflection.

When did she become this liar? This traitor? Kissing a kook who's way out of her league? Did she seriously think Rafe and her were ever going to work?

Tears started to form in her waterline and one trailed down her cheek before she wiped it. She took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom.

A hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her against the wall, hidden from the rest of the restaurant.

Rafe’s breath came out in quick bursts as he pressed her against the wall. He didn’t wait for her to say anything. He couldn’t — he was drowning in the sudden rush of emotions, and there was no way out except through her. His fingers tightened around her wrist, not hurting, but enough to keep her close.

“Why’re you ignoring me?” he said, his voice low, rough — almost like a growl. “Why’re you shutting me out?”

Belle’s eyes flickered between his, her chest heaving as she tried to stay calm. But all she felt was the heat of his touch, the weight of the words that had been hanging between them, too heavy to say aloud. “I’m not—”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his face inches from hers. “You didn’t answer, Belle. I called you. I needed to know where you were–if you were okay. What the hell is going on with you?”

His eyes narrowed, trying desperately to understand what she was trying to say.

The tension between them was so thick, it was suffocating. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. “Rafe, I’m... I was with the Pogues. I—”

His eyes softened, the anger calming beneath the surface, mixing with something darker. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

The question hit her like a slap to the face. “Because I didn’t know what to say to you!” Her voice cracked on the last word, betraying the vulnerability she’d been hiding so carefully.

For a moment, Rafe’s anger faltered, his grip on her wrist loosening just a fraction as his eyes softened — but only for a second. “I can’t do this–not like this. I can’t just pretend like nothing happened.”

A silence fell between them but was swiftly broken by Rafe’s “I let you in.” His voice cracked with emotion when he claimed it.

“I know,” Belle bit her lip, teary eyed. She exhaled a deep breath. “But I-”

A beat passed.

“I can’t.”

“Well you can’t pretend like nothing happened!”

“I’m not!” Belle yelled in a whisper tone.

The words hung in the air between them, and for a brief moment, the fight drained out of Belle. She looked up at him, seeing the pain behind his eyes, the same pain she’d been trying to ignore.

He leaned in to kiss her, like it would take both of their pain away. Prove something to her and himself, that despite their differences they could be together. Be something.

But Belle pulled away before he could get any closer, putting a hand on his chest. “We can’t keep doing this,” she said, breathless. “It’s too much. We’re... not supposed to be this close.”

She could feel his heart break as her hand was still resting on his chest.

“Face it,” she started. “I’m a pogue. You’re a kook. We don’t mix. Oil and water.” She chokes on her own words as she says them. Her heart was breaking by each syllable she spit out.

“Is that how you feel? Really?” She could tell it hurt him somewhere deep—although he maintained a cool armor.

She nodded.

“After our kiss. After the party. After the first time you spent at my house and the morning after.” He stated. “I’m not stupid, Belle. I know you feel something for me.Because I feel the same way-” He said, almost pleading.

He almost finished before being interrupted by Belle’s: “I can’t anymore.” She shrugged, on the verge of tears. She wiped them away before she went to the bar to grab drinks for the Pogues. She put on a fake smile that her friends know all too well at this point.

Leaving him stranded, alone by the bathroom. Wondering where the hell Belle Maybank went. And how could he get her back?

Rafe stood there for a long moment, back pressed against the cool wall, trying to breathe through the hollow ache spreading through his chest.

The roar of the Wreck blurred around him — the clatter of pool cues, drunken laughter, Sarah's shriek as John B spilled a drink — but all he could see was her.

Belle.

Laughing, smiling, weaving through the crowd like nothing happened. Like he was nothing.

Like he hadn’t kissed her like his life depended on it.

Like she hadn’t kissed him back.

Rafe’s fist were balled so tight it hurt.

He watched as she leaned over the bar, calling the bartender’s name with a tilt of her head and that easy, careless smile — the same one that used to be just for him.

Not anymore.

He hated it.

Hated how she could pretend.

Hated how she could walk away.

His fingers twitched at his side, still itching with the memory of her skin against his. He needed to do something — anything — before he lost his mind.

Rafe pulled the hoodie tighter over his head, sinking deeper into the shadows.

He needed a plan.

If Belle thought she could just cut him out, pretend it never happened — she was wrong.

Dead wrong.

Because he wasn’t done with her.

Not even close.

He lit a cigarette with shaking hands, eyes never leaving her figure across the room.

She’s mine, he thought viciously.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“Okay, I’m pretty much tapped out," John B confessed, slumping against the sticky top of their table.

The rest of the Pogues nodded along, their laughter lazy and loose from too many rounds.

"Yeah, it’s getting late," Sarah agreed, stretching her arms overhead. "Let’s get outta here."

“Wait, guys — I could do one more round!” JJ said eagerly, already waving at the bartender.

The Pogues groaned in unison.

“You’re relentless," Kiara said, shaking her head with a grin.

Belle pushed off her stool, slinging an arm around JJ’s shoulders. "I’ll do one more with you, Jayj."

"Leave it to the Maybanks," Pope joked, earning a soft elbow from Cleo as she bumped into his side.

The others filed out with promises to meet back at the Chateau, while Belle and JJ stayed behind to toss back another couple shots.

The tequila burned in Belle’s throat, but the warmth that spread through her chest was almost comforting — almost enough to drown out the buzzing anxiety she hadn’t been able to shake all night.

By the time they stumbled out the door, laughing about something stupid JJ had said, Belle froze.

The others weren’t alone.

John B, Sarah, Kiara, Cleo, and Pope were already halfway across the parking lot — but they weren’t just walking to the Twinkie.

They were talking–to him.

Rafe stood there, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, revealing bruised knuckles.

He was calm — too calm — and he wasn’t looking at any of them.

His gaze snapped straight to Belle the second she stepped outside.

The laughter died on her lips, it was replaced with shock, and fear.

JJ stiffened beside her, his hand automatically dropping to rest on her lower back like he was bracing for a fight.

"Shit," Belle whispered.

"Stay behind me," JJ muttered without missing a beat.

As they approached, Belle could see everybody–including JJ were tense.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” JJ yelled.

“JJ maybe-”

“No Belle! What the fuck is this Kook doing on our side of the island?” JJ said, quickly escalating his anger along with Rafe’s.

“You gonna act like you don’t know me, Belle?” Rafe said, leaning his head to meet her eyes.

She looked at him but no words escaped her lips. He raised his eyebrows awaiting a response.

“Go to the car, Belle.” JJ commanded.

“What?”

“Go.”

“JJ don’t.” She pleaded.

“Rafe’s eyes still locked on Belle — ignoring everyone else.

"You didn’t answer me," Rafe said, voice cutting through the cool night. "You think you can just... pretend like it didn’t happen?"

"Back the fuck off," JJ growled. He was practically vibrating with anger now. "She doesn't owe you shit."

"And you do?" Rafe shot back, his own voice rising. "You think you’re the fucking hero here, Maybank? King of the Pogues? That’s sad.”

He took a step forward.

JJ matched it instantly.

Chest to chest, practically daring each other.

Belle’s pulse was racing.

“Do you got a problem, Rafe?” JJ said, sizing him up.

“Yeah, a few.” Rafe replied with a cruel look in his eyes. The soft, vulnerable Rafe she was with a few nights ago had been covered up by a hard, icy exterior.

"Stop." she snapped, stepping in between both of them. SHe pushed her hands on both of their chest not only to ground them but separate more space between the two boys.

JJ’s jaw was clenched so hard she thought he might break a tooth.

Rafe was breathing hard, shoulders stiff, hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t trust himself.

"You really think you can protect her?" Rafe said, squinting his eyes as his voice became low and bitter. "You don't even know what you're protecting her from."

"Shut the fuck up." JJ hissed, drawing out every word.

Rafe’s eyes flicked down to Belle’s hand on his chest.

For a moment — just a moment — something cracked across his face.

The anger slipped, and all that was left was hurt.

He took a step back.

"See you around, Belle," His voice was low. Almost gentle. And it hurt worse than if he’d screamed at her.

Then he turned, disappearing into the night without another word.

And then he was gone, disappearing into the dark parking lot, leaving Belle standing between the people she loved — and the one she wasn’t sure she could survive loving at all.

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stormyskies-writes · 29 days ago

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Forced Proximity Dialogue Prompts

Haven't done one of these in a while.

"Come on, this isn't funny." "I'm not joking. It's locked."

"Is that the only tent we have?"

"There's only one bed." "Well, darlin', I'm not sleeping on the floor, so I guess we'll have to share."

"I'm your bodyguard. It's in the job description to protect you at all times." "Well, could you at least 'protect' me from over there?"

"You have got to be kidding me. I have to share a room with you."

"What do you mean there's only one sleeping bag? You had one job."

"Quit following me!" "I was hired to follow you, princess, better get used to it."

"What the hell is that noise?" "Uh, yeah, slight problem. We're out of gas."

"Where are you going? We're in the middle of nowhere!" "Yeah! And whose fault is that?"

"Look around, love. In case you hadn't noticed we're snowed in. So unless you plan to freeze to death, we'll have to find a way to keep each other warm."

"I may be stuck with you, but I don't have to like it."

"Is now a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic?"

"Your heart's racing. Now, I know being pressed up against me is exhilerating and all, but I'm trying to concentrate on picking this lock."

"What are you? Afraid?"

"Uh. Slight problem. We're trapped."

"Well, which way, smartass?" "Uh. We might be lost."

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okiedreamsreviews · 8 days ago

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Love to Hate You by Marina Adair ~ Book Review

LOVE TO HATE YOU With Love to Hate You, NYT bestselling author Marina Adair offers readers a delightfully fun romp with a modern twist on You’ve Got Mail Today on Okie Dreams, I am excited to talk about Love to Hate You by Marina Adair. Love to Hate You is an enemy to lovers, forced proximity romance between rivaling bookstore owners. These owners meet and then must navigate the complicated…

#books about books #Enemies to Lovers #Forced Proximity #Marina Adair #modern twist on a movie

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999vixen · 13 days ago

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➜ WENDY TESTABURGER X FEM!READER

｡𖦹°‧ trigger warning; blood, violence.

Wendy Testaburger was just another face among the passing crowd, her perfect-picture face blurred among the chatter of the students, blending in with the mediocrity. yet, perhaps her dark tresses illuminated slightly brighter, perhaps, her eyes that held the tides of the ocean within them reflected the dull of the fluorescent lights prettier.

[Name] [Last Name] wasn't all that cherished among the students of the school. she preferred to stir away from the pandemonium, and stay snugged into the comfort of her own bubble of blissful ignorance. insipid clothing adorned her body, her lips stretched into a string of tedium, her irises barely glanced at a face of another. she favored lingering at the back of the school, amidst the graying grass, and the virtue of the snow, in tranquil quietude.

she didn't have another to call her friend, and she was content with that fact. people all around here were pretentious, exasperatedly so. her gaze would burn into the eyes of whoever interrupted her alone time, not uttering a word, until they left her sight.

however, all of that changed. in the echo of scornful fate, she was paired up with Wendy for a project, girlfriend of Stanley Marsh, and student council president.

she remembers the glum overshadowing her mien in distaste, the pursing of her lips. she glimpsed at the black haired girl, silent disdain in her eyes for her misfortune. yet, Wendy didn't look bothered; it looked to be like any other day for her, her smile remained as bright.

[Name] wasn't fond of the luminescence swirling underneath her golden beam.

the project was for one of her favorite subjects. although, her grades were deteriorating, her love for chemistry remained the same. she wouldn't let little miss popular ruin that for her.

she remembers thinking.

and when the time came, Wendy greeted her with silken features, and a velvety tone that almost caressed the ends of her soul. [Name] stiffly nodded to every word spoken aloud, the grim rotting beneath her scowl. as they were about to begin, the azure eyed girl stopped in her tracks, causing her project-mate to furrow her eyebrows in impatience.

preceptive as ever, Wendy's smile dimmed faintly, the glimmer reverberating within her irises came to an abrupt halt. "i know you don't like me, so we can just work on our own separate parts individually. you don't have to do this with me, i get it." she uttered, the honeyed letters rolling between her teeth fleeting into a cacophony of tender understanding.

[Name] doesn't know what came over her. what sinister entity engulfed her tongue to say the next words.

"i... no. i'm sorry. i've just been on edge.."

she wasn't sure if it was because of the profound level of cognizance, or because of how she voiced the words in such a sugary timbre that the void in [Name]'s being craved to gnaw upon. or if it's the same love for the subject shining from beyond her pupils. or, perhaps, because of how the girl that was once beside her wasn't as grandiloquent as the rest.

nonetheless, she found her teeth clashing atop of each other for her disgustingly meek behavior.

the rigid tension roaming her veins eased into a paradox of awkward cordiality, as they delved deeper into conversation. an unfamiliar territory she has stepped into. the fetters arose from the ground, and clutched her being into the palm of companionship.

that's how her blank list of friends smeared, it became brimmed with one name, and one name only.

Wendy Testaburger.

that momentous day slithered in the back of [Name]'s mind daily. her isolated days at the back of the school dissipated into a warm puddle of adoring friendship. the chilly icicles staining the back of her heart dissolved underneath the compassionate grip of Wendy's laughter, the thorns decorating her expression fused into fleecy cotton, leaving her defenseless.

the fond sentiments of utter devotion consumed every part of her wake, convulsing beneath the silk of a smile ever so soft, the same smile that found its strokes back on her lips whenever her eyes landed on her friend. she wasn't so sure if she wanted to label her as a friend any longer.

but, rants upon rants about Stan spilled from Wendy's mouth, whenever the frustration became too intense. Wendy handed [Name] the fragile platter of trust, and the girl couldn't help but absorb whatever information she confided in her.

[Name] left with a crack in the remnants of her soul, every time.

she would do whatever it is within her power to keep the cheerful expression on Wendy's face, anyway.

so, why is Wendy in front of her doorstep sobbing hysterically?

she already missed the luminescence swirling beneath her golden beam, the one she has come to adore eminently.

"Wendy..? what's wrong?" [Name]'s eyes fell upon the sullen face of her friend, her tears gleamed underneath the moonlight in the show of a tragic stream. [Name]'s expression dipped into the toxin of brooding, as she embraced Wendy in a tight hug, leading her inside.

her arms engulfed the black haired girl into a warm clasp of comfort, the quivering cells of Wendy reverberated throughout the body of her friend, her heaving breaths escaped hurriedly from her swollen lips. sitting down upon the cushions of the couch, Wendy leaned against [Name], her face in her chest, her cries became muffled.

[Name] patted her back in slight inept, yet she poured in as much solace as she could in between her fondling. not having much friends; she was never good at comforting people.

but for Wendy, she'd try.

the room buzzed with the quiet sniffles of the azure eyed girl, her distraught puffs of air accompanying the noises of weeping, it resounded into a melody of sorrow. "it's okay, Wendy.. you're okay. what happened?" [Name] mumbled into the tresses of her hair, wordlessly nuzzling into the warmth of her scalp. the sentences escaped from within the dark corners of her throat didn't reach above the thread of a benevolent whisper.

Wendy gasped from in between wails, her eyes shut tight, she struggled to form words. amidst the frantic puffs of misery, "it's Stan.." she managed to stutter out, her voice weak, deprived of illumination. [Name]'s features hardened, her nails ached to dig into the protective flesh of her palms, but for the sake of the sobbing girl, she refrained. "what did he do?" she questioned, her tone strained.

at the mention of the topic, Wendy's breath halted, her echoing cries fading into a timid whir of unforeseen anguish. "..he broke up with me." she shyly mumbled, in a mummer so hushed, the strings of her vocal cords bordered on shaky disbelief. hiccuping into the shirt [Name] wore, she buried her face deep within the fabric, the wetness of the despondency escaping from her eyes dampening the material.

[Name] scowled at the revelation, the fondness blazing throughout the lines of her irises was obscured by tints of vexation for the male. the silence flooded the atmosphere, no words uttered, they both relished into the presence of one another. the tenderness her hug graciously offered leisurely mending the torn flesh of Wendy's heart, as her scent brought forth consolation to her petulant lungs.

with every pat, the twinkling stars found their way back to her bright eyes once more.

succumbing to the sweet pecks of slumber, they had both fallen asleep on the couch, clasping into each other, they both shielded each other from the terrors that life would bring.

waking up the following morning, [Name] grumbled, with a rasp in her groan, she leisurely opened her eyes, only to squint due to the glare of the blaring sunlight. feeling weight atop her body, she glanced at the snoozing girl, she felt the corners of her lips quirk up at the sight, only to falter once she remembered last night. Wendy's pale cheeks reddened, bloated by the hums of woe, her skin stained by the dried liquid she shed.

remembering that today is Tuesday, and that she has to stroll into the building of impending doom again, her lips tightened. steadily bidding farewell to the heat the couch, and her friend lent, she decided to leave Wendy to rest. she hastily groomed her disheveled appearance, before grabbing a blanket to drape over the weary body of the black-haired girl.

she sauntered to school with only one goal in mind.

and when she made it to the hallways that bustled with disarray, she shoved the students hoarding her way, barely paying mind to the glances of derision she received. the strident sound of her footsteps drowned the arising mummers of the forming horde, her clenched fists clutched harshly around her thumbs, her pupils dilated, as they landed on the person she was in search for.

the stupid dickhead with his dickhead friends.

bumping roughly into the shoulder of a certain redhead intentionally, she disregarded the glare he threw her away, before she released the grating hold she had on her reddening fingers to push Stan. he stumbled, facing her glowering mien with a frown of his own. "what the fuck is your problem?" she vocalized between the vice grip of resentment, the octave of her tone low. the male raised an eyebrow at her statement, tilting his head, "me? what the fuck is your problem. i don't even know you." he retaliated, crossing his arms over his chest.

she barely paid any attention to the words he uttered, images of her friend's searing whimpers encircled around the cortex of her brain. the mutters of the crowd surrounding her intermingled with the crimson of her bitterness, as she kicked the male aggressively in the balls, his grunt hardly reaching the vicinity of her hearing, she pushed him to the ground, his back connected with the dirtied linoleum of the tiles with a noisy thud.

her legs straddled his waist, as her fist connected with his cheek, the soft of his skin trembled underneath the rough of her punch, she could feel his teeth clanging together, a satisfying echo, yet it wasn't enough to erase the scowl adorning her lips. she hazily raised her fist yet again, only for his other cheek to meet the same fate.

she doesn't care if it's not fair.

she doesn't care that she didn't hear the full story.

she only cares about one person.

Wendy.

and he made her eyes bleed.

her fists pounded his face in the display of barely contained hostility, the vermilion liquid leaked from in between his slashed injuries that decorated his tattered dermis, her hands covertly attached itself to anything visible, ranging from his lips, to his nose, and occasionally his neck. his mouth produced saliva, and blood alike, mixing in a repulsive parade.

he gasped from underneath her, his hands weakly attempting to push her brooding presence away from his body, yet it was futile. the bristles of her fists were painting his face black, and blue. he could feel his skin burning due to the tyrannical strikes of the girl, his cells vibrated in a frenzy among the scorching fire of pain. all that could escape his throat were raspy groans.

the redhead, recovering from his initial shock, swiftly grabbed a hold of [Name], his hands underneath her armpits, he attempted to separate her from the bruised Stan, yet, she was brisk to react, her elbow rammed into his chest with much vigor, causing him to loosen his grasp on her. she escaped from Kyle, with a fuzzy vision, she found him kneeling on the ground, clutching the area she most probably bruised.

"dude, stop!" the redhead yelled, his expression twinged with pain, as he glanced at his battered best friend. his voice boomed with annoyance for the actions of the [hair color] haired girl, and her response to him was a jarring kick in the face, the blood bolting from his nose tainted the ivory of her shoes, he stumbled, his back welcoming the breezy metal of the lockers.

"seriously, what's up with this lesbo."

halting her movements, she stopped in her tracks. her eyes leaving the sight of the bloodied Stan, to the snickering face of Cartman. everything around her drowned in the impassioned hues of rage, the tints dissolved into sickening carmine. approaching the aforementioned male, her nails flew to his skin, penetrating through the flesh beneath, his breath hitched, as he chuckled awkwardly. "what?" she narrowed her half-lidded optics, the patronization coating the edges of her speech.

when she received no response, her sharp nails dug deeper into his face, he winced in her violent hold, and she didn't release him, not until the vital fluid spilled from within.

"okay, that's enough, dude." the only person that hasn't experienced the brewing of her irritation; Kenny. he deliberately approached her, his hands found home atop her shoulders, as he tried leading her away from his group of dickheads. yet, she persisted, stomping on his foot with as much strength as she could muster, she pushed him away. "don't fucking touch me." the rasp of her voice grew deeper, she kicked his knees in for extra measure, before promptly walking away.

she stopped her pace, just to trample Stan's face with her shoe, Stan who still laid on the ground, his irises hidden away in agony, his eyelashes dipped in the viscous liquid of physical torment, shuddering, his muscles spasmed. his features were concealed by the canvas she painted with his blood.

she grinned to herself in contentment, yet, the contentment felt drained of all colors. she concluded that she doesn't want to stay for the aftermath of the fight, as she had started advancing closer to the exit of the building.

the grin was wiped away once the antagonistic breeze of the air prickled upon her being. the stroll back home was foggy, all she could think about was Wendy. is she still upset? is she alright?

her notions didn't settle down, not until she found herself in front of her doorstep. feebly opening the barrier, she was met with the frantic face of her friend, hurriedly gathering her stuff. "Wendy?" [Name] croaked out, stepping in, she closed the door behind her. Wendy stopped in her tracks, rashly darting to the girl, concern slithered into her expression. "Jesus Christ, [Name]! are you okay?" the black haired female inspected the face of the one before her, her velvety fingers roamed her face, observing every single aspect.

her touch gentle upon her skin, [Name] felt akin to brittle glass within her hold. her cheeks felt rather hot, as the windows of her soul were consumed by the clouds of daze.

"..huh? yes, i'm okay. what's wrong?" [Name] furrowed her eyebrows in perplexity, blinking rapidly, she was slightly taken back by her friend's odd behavior. Wendy gasped in divulgence once her docile hands connected with the rough hands of her friend, her fingertips caressed the blue of the bruises forming on [Name]'s fists, with such a level of tenderness that shouldn't exist. the [eye color] eyed girl shivered from the contact.

"your fists are bruised! c'mon, let's go fix you up." Wendy frowned in alarm, the taxing thud of her disheartened expression not quite matching with the azure glimmer that decorated her irises. yet, she spoke in a tone that could defrost the entirety of the town. she rushed [Name] to the couch, before grabbing the first aid kit, to tend to her injuries.

honestly, [Name] hadn't even noticed the bruises, before Wendy pointed them out. her fists were swallowed by the slowly drying shades of red, that she wasn't even sure how the black haired girl had discerned them.

cleaning her wounds gently with the disinfectant, [Name]'s mind barely registered the sting reiterating through her body, too focused on the mellow grasp of Wendy's hands on hers, her eyes stapled themselves to the girl, taking note of every minor detail. how her lips pursed when she's focused deeply on something, how her eyes squinted when she attempts to put a great ample of attention into something, how her dimples dip into the corners of her cheeks intensely when she's floating with mirth, how she—

"you didn't have to do that, y'know." Wendy shattered her distracted stupor, as she glanced at the startled female before her, [Name]'s eyes widened, her mouth agape, "huh?" the injured girl stammered, causing Wendy to smile fondly, a giggle not quite reaching the ends of her tongue. "you didn't have to beat up Stan and his friends." she repeated, before returning to the bruise, she amorously patted the cotton on the blue of the skin with care.

[Name] licked her dry lips, as she adjusted her vision reluctantly, her vision never seemed to have enough of her. "who told you?" she asked, her voice an unstable whisper, Wendy's skin upon her own was enough to make her face blaze. "Bebe called me." Wendy admitted, her speech engendering an emotion of green to stir through the girl's guts.

disregarding the all too familiar sensation, she chuckled dryly, shrugging Wendy's words off, "that asshole broke your heart, so." she replied sardonically, as the black haired girl wrapped her hands in white gauze.

white. she had came to admire the color. perhaps, it's because it matched the brightness she brought forth into the murky corners of her life.

a beat of serene stillness trailed soon after her words, her sight couldn't help but wander back to the face that made her heart melt into a mushy jumble of affection. the ductile tissues of her body shaped into distant mummers of something she yearned to be.

"..thank you." Wendy whispered, her smile hidden beneath the hair overshadowing her expression, her cheeks bursted into an array of gratitude, flushing. tearing her gaze apart from the bandaged hands of [Name], azure irises met halfway with [eye color] through the thread of frail passion. "for always being there for me, i mean." she clarified, the lines of warmth upon her countenance radiating reverently.

[Name]'s breath hitched, her eyes widening. the sorrow that scornfully insisted in Wendy's mien was expunged by the eraser of endearment, that silken glimmer in her pupils; [Name] could almost taste the sugar on the tip of her tongue, she could feel her teeth decaying, her heart pumping noisily, her lungs expanding, as the sweetness overfilled her senses. "um.. yeah. anytime, Wendy." she hesitantly stuttered, her tone treading lightly.

Wendy's arms enveloped her neck gently, the affection seeping into [Name]'s shoulders, as she relaxed in her hold, her hands slithered around her waist, her forehead connecting with her neck. "..yeah. anytime, Wendy. i'd do anything for you." [Name] confessed, her juddering timbre almost threatened to erupt elation. she was content; in the arms of the female that rescued her mouldering soul from the pits of inferno.

her sour mood seemed to dissipate into the flood of sweet divinity. just being in the presence of the black haired girl was enough to abolish Stan from her running notions. as long as Wendy is happy, so is she.

[Name] breathed out the words into the shell of Wendy's heart, as the black haired girl felt her veins pulsate. the fiery skin of her cheeks felt hot against her flesh.

how could she have been so blind?

#south park #oneshot #south park x reader #wendy testaburger #forced proximity #friends to lovers #wlw yearning #wendy #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #eric cartman

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koalathebear · 20 days ago

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Crisis Narrative Theme Song: Now That You Know

youtube

I made a theme song for another one of my original fics. I really like how the 'sound' came out :D

Recent scandals in the media have devoured my brain (*cough* Lively v Baldoni) and were the inspiration for this story. Although inspired by real life events, it is all a feverish figment of my own crazy, bonkers imagination and really just an excuse to write a smutty, romantic/suspense thing... which now has its own theme song haha

#slow burn #forced proximity #angst #conspiracy theories #media manipulation #corrupt institutions #hollywood corruption #found family #hidden feelings #citizen journalists v mainstream media #power and corruption #shameless smut #romance'#don't examine this too closely #fluff and smut #Youtube

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kaetrinsmusings · 29 days ago

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Review at Dear Author: Swept Away by Beth O'Leary.

View On WordPress

#Beth O&039;Leary #contemporary #Dear Author #forced proximity #lost at sea #NetGalley #romantic adventure #UK

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fennec-sucks · 1 month ago

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lesbian mormon missionaries falling in love with eachother and running away from the church together

#i just leanred that mormon missionaries are never allowed to be apart #forced proximity #?#trope #queer #wlw post #wlw #lesbians #lesbian relationship #mormon #lesbian

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 1 month ago

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When things are stressful, sometimes you just need a sweet treat.

#books #forced proximity #book lovers #book blog #booklr #bookish musings #musings #bookish #batty about books #battyaboutbooks #book memes #book meme

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riddikulusravenclawbelle · 6 days ago

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promiscuous

plot - you never expected Harry to kiss you—and now he's avoiding you. Draco’s been distant too, but the tension between you both is impossible to ignore. Trapped between two men who won’t make a move, you're left wanting more.

characters - harry potter x reader & draco malfoy x reader

warnings - possessiveness, smut, curse words, mentions of alcohol, and angst.

wc - 4.8k

final notes - because 'taste' got so much love i decided to make a part two & turn this into a mini series!! if you love this, i may or may not be working on part 3 ;) enjoy!

Draco hasn’t spoken to you in weeks. No teasing, no walking to class together—just silence. Cold and sharp, like his hair.

Harry, when he does see you, pretends like he doesn't. Dodging you in halls, looking away when you meet his eyeline.

And it’s not like Harry didn’t have feelings for you—he did. He made that clear. You were his. He knew it.

He wanted you. Claimed you. Like that would be enough.

But maybe Draco was right.

Because his ‘Gryffindor guilt’ did creep in.

He found you at the Astronomy tower, where you always go to relax and think about things…alone.

The wind had picked up, ruffling the ends of your hair, your robes pulled tight around you. You didn’t flinch when he stepped closer. Didn’t look at him.

“Draco hasn’t spoken to me in weeks, Harry.”

Silence followed, but he didn’t leave.

You sighed, hugging your arms around yourself tighter.

“I thought you might come here,” he finally said, his voice soft.

He stepped closer, cautious. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just…”

“You just what?” you asked, cutting him off but still not facing him. “Felt bad? Wanted to keep things simple by acting like it never happened?”

“I thought maybe… maybe it was better for you that way.”

You let out a sharp laugh—cold and humorless. “Don’t pretend you were thinking of me. If you were, you wouldn’t have disappeared after getting everything you wanted.”

“I was nothing to you but a dirty little secret, wasn’t I?” You look up at Harry, he’s now standing a few inches behind you. “You were sacred to me.”

“Y/N that’s not–”

“I lost him because of you,” you added. “Draco. My best friend. I don’t even know what he saw. Maybe nothing. Maybe it was just… obvious.”

He looked pained, torn, like someone had split him down the middle. “I think about you all the time.”

“I can tell, you avoid me in the hallways and sit as far away as possible in class.”

“Not in that way. I worry about you.”

“Then why don’t you do something about it?”

That caught him off guard. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

You shook your head, stepping past him, your shoulder brushing his just enough to sting. “Forget it. Draco was right.”

“Draco was right about what?”

“Your guilt would creep in as soon as you had me.”

You walked away, leaving him speechless.

You didn’t even make it back to the Slytherin common room.

You found him leaning against the wall near the Prefects' Bathroom—tie loose, hair tousled, expression unreadable, like he’d been waiting for something and convinced himself it wasn’t you.

“Thought you were avoiding me,” you said, not quite biting but far from sweet.

Draco didn’t move. “I was.”

“So what’re you doing here then?”

A beat. Two.

“I don’t know,” he said, but the lie tasted sour.

You exhaled, tension radiating through your shoulders. “You don’t look at me. You don’t talk to me. It’s like I’m invisible.”

“I don’t need to,” he said, sharper now. “I saw how you looked at him. How you ran after him that day in the courtyard.” He paused, his voice sharper with these next words.

“How you declared he was better than me.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to ignore me for the next few years until we leave Hogwarts? Or do you plan forever?”

‘What was I supposed to do, Y/L/N?!” He met your gaze, raised his voice, “Beg for you? Get on my knees and pray to Merlin you pick me over Potter?”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Another step. You were close now—too close for comfort, not close enough to satisfy the ache.

“You think I didn’t want to fight for you?” Draco asked, lowly. “I did. But I knew I’d already lost.”

You hated the way your throat tightened. The way your body still leaned toward him. “You can’t lose, if the game’s not over.”

Silence.

Then—softly, like it hurt to say it—“I still want you.”

And then his hands were on your waist, and your fingers were in his shirt, and his mouth was on yours with so much anger it made your knees weak.

He kissed you like he was trying to erase him from your memory—like he needed proof that you hadn’t stopped wanting him either.

It wasn’t soft or sweet like Potter’s.

It was desperate, like he’d been longing for this moment.

Clothes pulled at, backs slammed into stone walls, hands roaming like they couldn’t get enough.

“You’re not as innocent as you seem.”

“Good, I’m done pretending.”

You gasped into his mouth as his lips trailed down you, and he gripped your hips like he was afraid you’d run into Harry’s arms again. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging, like you had many times before.

“Tell me you want this. Me.”

Then he froze. His hands stopped where they were as his mouth travelled, leaving a kiss by your ear before confessing “I’m not him. And I won’t let you pretend I am, Y/N.”

And just like that—the spell broke.

Because the truth was: you didn’t want this. Not really.

You just wanted to forget someone else.

You didn’t want Draco at that moment. And you both knew it.

You stood there speechless. Frozen.

Draco’s hands were still on your waist, but the fire in his eyes had dimmed. Something unreadable flickered across his face.

“I won’t be your distraction, princess”

The words were soft, but they struck like a slap.

“I won’t be your second choice,” he said. “Not even for a moment.”

Your heart cracked wide open and at the same time your stomach dropped.

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You didn’t go back to the dorms.

You were mortified that Draco had told the rest of your friend group–Enzo, Mattheo. Afraid they’d look at you differently.

As a girl who didn’t know who she wanted.

Because as you looked in the mirror, mascara smudged. Shirt half-buttoned. Collar slightly wrinkled from where Draco’s hands had gripped you.

You looked exactly like someone who didn’t know what they wanted.

You splashed water on your face, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped.

You tried not to think about the way Draco’s voice broke when he said he cared.

How Harry avoided you all week, and the one time he talks to you, it just got worse.

You had wanted comfort but you ended up even more hollow.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

It was a new day. Thank Merlin for that. You went to find Pansy. Somebody you confided in constantly as one of the only sane slytherin girls in your year.

That’s when you heard her talking to someone. About you.

“She was with Malfoy last night,” Pansy drawled to Daphne, her voice sharp with amusement. “Figures she'd move on from Potter. Can’t say he could even handle her.”

You froze, heart thudding in your chest. They hadn’t seen you yet, but the words felt like a slap in the face.

Daphne giggled. “Poor Golden Boy. Bet he’s brooding in some broom cupboard.”

You turned on your heel before they could notice, suddenly breathless. It wasn’t just the gossip that stung—it was the fact that Harry might believe it.

Because maybe it wasn’t completely untrue.

Later that day, Harry found himself pacing near the Great Hall, a gnawing feeling twisting in his gut. He didn’t want to ask what he already feared, but of course, that’s when Draco appeared.

Their eyes locked like magnets. Tension crackled between them.

“She used you, Potter,” Draco said, his tone sharp. “You gave her guilt, and I gave her an escape.”

Harry’s jaw clenched, but his voice shook. “Don’t pretend like you care.”

“Oh, I do,” Draco snapped. “I cared enough not to keep her when I knew she was still thinking about you.”

Harry stared, something twisting deep in his chest.

“You want her?” Draco leaned in, voice low and dangerous. “Then act like it, Potter. Because she deserves better than this cowardly, disappearing version of you.”

And with that, Draco turned on his heel and left Harry standing there, mouth dry, chest hollow, mind reeling.

After the conversation, Harry had planned to go to the Black Lake to meet Ron and confess everything off his chest without Hermione’s judgement.

He knows he’s made a mess of things.

And there you were, Y/N Y/L/N. Your knees tucked to your chest, clearly shaken, clearly crying.

He didn’t approach you yet.

He just watched.

And for the first time in weeks, the pain twisted in his chest.

That’s when you turned around, eyes locking with his—empty, hollow, like you were already saying goodbye.

And that’s when he walked away.

Left you there.

Alone.

Because he knew that if he stepped toward you now, he’d only destroy whatever fragile bridge remained between you two.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

It was the biggest party of the year. Every house crammed into the common room, but it was mostly the 5th, 6th, and 7th years that were allowed. The air was thick with firewhisky fumes, green lanterns casting eerie glows. The music pulsed through the walls, drowning out the chaos of people either making out or passed out cold.

Y/N was dressed to kill in a tight, dark Slytherin-green dress that clung to every curve, the slit running up one leg daring anyone to look. A silver snake necklace gleamed at your neck, the perfect touch of sly, sensual power.

Draco was smug. Smirking. Loving every minute you were not looking at Harry.

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Good. I’m tired of being a good girl.”

Draco downs another shot, his eyes flicking to Potter across the room—watching, brooding, his jaw tight with jealousy. The sight seems to ignite something in Draco. He leans in, whispering in your ear, grabbing your hand, and pulling you toward his room without a second thought.

The door slams shut behind you, and Draco’s hands are on you, pressing you against it. His lips are hot and demanding on yours—every inch of him hungry, urgent.

His hands thread through your hair, tugging you closer, his lips trailing down your neck, marking, claiming.

Y/N gasps when he bites down, leaving a claiming hickey just below your jaw.

“Still thinking about him?” he whispers against your skin, smug.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Make me.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You shoved him onto the bed, a dark sensual look in your eyes. He gets on top of you, he loves being in control. His hands travelled under your dress, your fingers yanking his belt. It’s reckless. Loud.

You tilt your head back as his mouth moves lower, the sensation of his lips on your skin almost too good to bear—

“Harry…” you moan, the name slipping out, soft and breathless, before you can stop it.

Silence.

Draco freezes. Your eyes snap open.

Fuck.

“What?” Draco’s voice drops, colder than you’ve ever heard it, venom lacing every syllable.

“Wait—I didn’t mean—”

“No. You did. I knew it.” grabbing his shirt, storming out.

“Draco, please…” You whisper, your voice cracking as you watch him storm out, the door slamming behind him with a finality that sends a chill down your spine.

He’s left you there, still drunk, dress on the floor. Alone, the alcohol still spinning your head as your dress lies discarded on the floor.

And the hickey burns like a brand, a reminder of what you lost—and what you can never undo.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The hall is buzzing with its usual morning chatter—clinks of silverware, flapping owls overhead—but there’s a different kind of tension today.

You stumble in late, sunglasses on, hair in a messy bun with flyaways everywhere, still nursing a hangover. You slide into a seat by the wall between Blaise and Pansy at the Slytherin table, trying to ignore the stares and whispers. Your throat still burns from firewhisky, and your neck is incredibly sore.

“Well, well,” Pansy purrs, sipping pumpkin juice, “did you have fun last night, princess?”

You grunt. “Don’t start.”

Mattheo smirks, clearly enjoying this. “A bit late for that, don’t you think? Word around here is you and Draco went missing for quite a while.”

Y/N freezes mid-bite.

“What?”

“Don’t act surprised.” Enzo’s eyes glitter. “Apparently, you two were seen sneaking off to the dungeons. His dorm, no less. And now there’s a very obvious mark on your neck…” Shit.

You lift your collar, feeling a wave of embarrassment coming over you.

Across the hall, at the Gryffindor table, Harry is silent. Fork clenched in his hand. Ron is mid-chew, oblivious. Hermione shoots Harry a concerned glance.

“Harry… are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“You’re crushing your eggs.”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are locked on you.

You feel the stare before you see it.

It burns, your eyes flick up.

Harry. Jaw tense. Hands curled. Green eyes blazing like floo powder.

Blaise leans in, his voice low and teasing.

“Also heard you moaned someone else’s name. Bet Draco really liked that, huh?”

You kick him under the table. Hard. The force of it making him grunt.

“Shut. Up.”

Harry doesn’t look away. You don’t either.

It’s a standoff.

You refuse to look away.

Refuse to submit.

Everyone else fades.

And in that split second, it’s clear: He knows.

The same fiery tension that reminds you of the events right after you moaned Harry’s name. You were on a random balcony–one without any students drinking or getting frisky.

You don't have to look to know it was him.

“I didn’t think you’d follow me,” you confessed quietly.

“You always run,” Draco replied, leaning against the wall beside you. “You run, and I chase. It's getting old.”

A long pause.

His voice is low when he speaks, but it cuts like a blade. “How long are you going to pretend it didn’t happen?”

You stiffened. “Nothing happened.”

“Oh?” Draco turns to face you fully, his eyes sharp. “So I imagined you moaning Potter’s name while I had my lips on your neck?”

You go still. Your mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out.

Your breath catches. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” he says, voice sharp. “What’s not fair is me falling for someone who looks at me and sees a stand-in for Potter.”

A beat passes between you two.

“Fucking hell, Y/N.”

“I was drunk.” You replied quickly.

“You weren’t the night you had sex with him.” That hit like a gut punch. “You weren’t drunk when you ran after him in that corridor. Or when you defended him to me. And you sure as shit weren’t drunk when you came crawling into my bed last night.”

You flinched. “Draco—”

“What is this?” he demands, gesturing between them. “Because I thought I knew. I thought I meant something to you. But you—you just wanted a distraction.”

Your eyes fill with salty tears. “That’s not true. You can’t be mad at me for being confused, Draco.”

Tears prick your eyes, but you refuse to cry. Not in front of him. Not like this.

“No, but I can and do get mad at the fact that I was only a replacement. I wanted–still want you, Y/N.”

You didn’t know what broke first.

The silence or Malfoy’s heart.

And then, softer: “I would’ve given you anything. You know that, right?”

You choke on a breath, nodding.

“I know.” You say, barely audible.

He takes a shaky step back. “Then why does it always come back to him?”

You’re shaking now, a tear rolls down your eyes but don’t answer.

“I hope he fucks you like you need, since I could never do that.”

When he leaves, you're already crying—quietly, furiously.

The feelings overwhelm you right now, as you sit on a bench in the hallway. You don’t want to cry in front of anyone. The rumors would go crazy–even Rita Skeeter would try to get a quote from you at this point. So when you walk by a specific wall, the Room of Requirement reveals itself. And you go in.

Safe.

Empty.

The door slams shut behind you, cutting off the sounds of the entire school. Your chest heaves with each breath as you backs up against the door, hands trembling slightly. Draco’s words still echo in your mind— But now you’re here–alone, mind a whirlwind of hurt and anger, and the heat of the argument still burning in your veins.

The room has changed since you were here last, walls draped in velvet shadows, low lighting from floating candles, books stacked in messy towers, a shattered mirror in the corner.

You froze the second you heard footsteps—someone’s already here.

He came around a corner, startled, a worn leather-bound book in hand. His expression darkened instantly.

“Y/N.”

“Don’t start with me Potter.”

Too late. He scoffs, “Don’t tell me you ran straight here from Malfoy’s bed.”

“Shut up.” The words hit harder than expected. Your eyes snap to him. “You don’t get to talk about things you don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly,” he retorts, taking a step forward. “Saw the hickey. Heard the rumors. Was he not enough? Had to crawl back to me?”

The silence is thick, charged with something neither of you can ignore.

Harry stared at you like he was trying to burn holes through you. And you hated how good he looked like that—jaw tense, fists clenched at his sides, chest rising like he was holding back from saying something unforgivable.

He stalked closer, heat radiating off him like a curse. “So that’s what you do now?” he murmured, voice low and lethal. “Drink yourself stupid, let him put his hands on you, and pretend it’s me?”

A breath hitched in your throat.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “Tell me—when he kissed your neck, did you imagine it was my mouth?”

His hand caught your jaw, tilting your face to his.

“You’re still thinking about me, aren’t you?” he murmurs. “Even when you’re with him, it’s me you're aching for.”

He chuckled darkly, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Why are you shaking, darling? Nervous?”

“I’m not—”

“Liar.” His voice was all teeth now, his other hand slipping to your waist, anchoring you in place. “You wanted me to see it, didn’t you? The hickey. The little show you put on in the great hall this morning.”

That did it.

You shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.“You think I like the fact that I can’t stop thinking about you?”

His jaw flexed, and something wild flickered in his eyes. “My tongue still remembers the way you taste.” He raised his thumb up to your mouth, rubbing it around your lips.

You sucked in a breath, lips parting, but he didn’t let you speak. Not yet.

“Go on then,” he said, voice low and venomous. “Keep pretending you don’t want this. That you don’t want me.”

“You’re not that special.” You scoffed, looking away.

“No?” he drawled, taking a dangerous step closer, until your back met cold stone. “Then why are your pupils blown wide right now?”

“Maybe you should stop thinking everything revolves around you.”

He leaned in, brushing his mouth beside your ear. “Maybe you should stop pretending you’re not dying for me to touch you.”

He was right. You were unravelling by the second. But he couldn’t know that.

Your jaw locked, fury rising. “I hate you.”

He took a slow step closer. “No, love. You hate that I know what you like. You hate that he couldn’t give it to you.”

Your back hit the door hard. His body just inches from yours now, heat suffocating, rage twisting into want.

“He didn’t touch me like that.”

“No,” Harry whispered. “Because he’s not me. This isn’t about Malfoy to me, Y/N. Or pride. Or winning.”

The Room shifted around them, pulsing with tension. A mirror bloomed from the shadows, tall and wide, its surface glinting with dark magic.

He tilted your chin toward it. “Look at yourself. All flustered, desperate.”

“You’re imagining things.”

His voice was like sin and smoke. “Can’t hide it, can you?” he whispered, his eyes flicking down to where your chest pressed against him.

“The way your body’s reacting—your breath has quickened, your skin’s flushed.” He takes his hand and moves a stray hair out of your face. “And you’re leaning into me like your body’s already decided for you.”

Your breath hitched, the pulse between your legs a steady thrum.

“Still pretending you don’t want this?” he asked, lips brushing your own—close enough to taste but not close enough to take. “Go on then. Lie to my face.”

“You’re such a fucking prick,” you spat, voice shaking—not with fear, but need.

His smirk dragged slowly across your jaw. “And yet… you haven’t told me to stop.” His voice was a rasp, rough and filled with desire.

You swallowed hard, not trusting yourself to speak.

He took your hand, softly, guiding you to the mirror.

He stood behind you, his chest brushing your back. One hand came to rest on your hip, his thumb tracing small, deliberate circles on your skin. His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned down to speak.

“You see that?” His voice was rough, dripping with sex. “That’s you wanting me. Wanting this. Wanting everything I’m going to give you.”

His hands slid to your thighs, coaxing your legs apart just enough to let his body fit even tighter against yours. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, fighting back the desire, but the way his hands were moving, the way his lips were on your neck, was too much.

You wanted this—him.

“You’ve been pretending,” he whispered against your neck, his voice rough with control. “Pretending you don’t want me. But you do. I can see it in your eyes.” He breathed against your neck, his breath warm.

“Tell me,” he demanded, voice like velvet and steel.

“I want it,” you finally admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I want you.”

The words hung between you, a silent agreement, before Harry’s lips claimed you in a passionate, hungry kiss. His mouth moved against yours with a force, pulling you closer by the neck. You made quick work of your clothes.

“How do you want me, love?”

Without breaking the kiss, you guided him to a nearby couch and let him sit down, getting on top of him.

“Ever since that day I have stopped thinking about you–your body, how you feel, how you taste.” He confessed in a low growl, and he took you off his lap.

Before you could even respond he was on his feet, his hands were on your jaw, tilting your head back just enough to make you vulnerable, exposed, anything but innocent. He stepped back slightly, but only to better admire you—his eyes dark and calculating.

“Look at me,” he commanded, voice low, dangerous.

“See what you’ve done to me?” he growled, voice rough, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “See what you’re making me do?” His hands moved to your shoulders, laying you down onto the couch as he leaned over you, face mere inches from your own.

He gripped the back of your neck, his thumb pressing against your throat in a possessive hold. "Don’t look away," he ordered, as he faced you over the arm of the chair looking at the mirror, ready to take him.

“I want you to watch,” He said, looking at you in the mirror. “I want you to see exactly how you feel under me. How badly you want this.”

He made quick work of his clothes—shedding layers until he was bare above you, muscles rippling, jaw tight with restraint. And then he was lining himself up, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your entrance.

“Beg,” he whispers, knowing he has all the power.

Your pride was paper-thin now.

“Please,” you breathed.

And with that, he thrust into you in one slow, devastating motion. Filling you. Stretching you. Claiming you.

Getting rid of every single mark Draco Malfoy has ever laid on you.

You cried out, nails digging into the couch, head falling forward against the couch.

“Look,” he groaned, voice barely hanging on, grabbing you by your hair. “Look at how fucking perfect you take me.”

He forced your eyes to the mirror. And there it was—his body pressed to yours, the roll of his hips, the flush in your skin. You’d never looked so wrecked. So wanted.

He set a brutal rhythm—deep, deliberate strokes that pushed you right to the edge again. His hand slid between you, thumb circling your clit in time with every thrust, every curse he spat into your neck.

“You feel that?” he grunted. “That’s what Malfoy could never give you.”

“Harry—” you whimpered, nails raking down the couch.

He grinned, teeth grazing your jaw. “That’s right, love. Say my name. Say it when you cum.”

You did. Loud. Raw. Back arching as he sent you spiraling again, your orgasm crashing into you like a wave.

He wasn’t far behind—his thrusts growing sloppier, breath ragged, muscles tightening until he came with a groan that sounded like it was torn from his soul, spilling into you as his hips finally stilled.

For a long moment, the room was silent, saved for your heavy breathing.

Harry leaned over, brushing his fingers through your hair with a smug little grin.

“You okay? Still breathing? Still gorgeous?”

He kissed your cheek.

You groaned. “I have to go, I have to go meet Pansy in like five minutes.” You paused. “I can find an excuse though.” You said out loud to yourself.

“Go ahead, sneak off.” His voice was still husky, and sweet.

“But just know I’m never going to stop thinking about the way you sounded.”

He paused.

“Or looked. Or tasted. Or—okay, I’ll shut up.”

You laughed, and he grinned.

Eventually, he shifted, careful not to pull away completely, and reached for the throw blanket crumpled at the edge of the couch. He tucked it over both of you, his hand still brushing yours underneath.

You felt his lips press softly to your temple. No teasing. No smirk. Just that.

You blinked up at him, hazy. “You’ve never kissed me like that before.”

He swallowed, his jaw working for a second like he was trying to choose the right words. “I’ve never felt like that before.”

Your heart fluttered traitorously, as you got up to put your clothes that were scattered across the room.

“Harry…”

You looked down at him, green eyes a little softer now. “I meant what I said. That this—” he gestured between you “—isn’t just about Malfoy. Or winning. Or proving anything.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him. The cocky armor was still there in flashes, but underneath it—he looked scared. Like he wasn’t sure what this meant either. Like maybe you weren’t the only one who’d been hiding behind games.

Your lips found his, sealing one last kiss. It wasn’t rushed or messy like before. It wasn’t desperate. It was slow, lingering. A maybe. A maybe-this-could-be-something-more.

When you pulled back, his eyes were still closed for a beat too long, like he didn’t want it to end.

“I really do have to go,” you whispered, fingers brushing over his collarbone as you stood.

Harry groaned, head falling back against the couch cushion. “Blimey, you can’t walk out like that,” he said, a grin tugging at his mouth as his eyes finally opened. “People will think I hexed you.”

You glanced down at yourself—shirt halfway buttoned, hair a total wreck, your neck marked in places that would be very hard to explain in the Slytherin common room.

You huffed a laugh. “They’ll probably assume it was Malfoy.”

His head whipped around to glare at you, eyes narrowed. “Don’t even joke about that. I’ll fight him.”

“Please don’t,” you teased, grabbing your skirt from the back of the armchair. “You’d ruin that pretty face,” you said as you grabbed his jaw gently. “And I like it exactly the way it is.”

Harry stood up then, clearly sore but trying not to show it, and helped you with the zipper at the back of your skirt, his fingers lingering a moment too long.

“You know,” he said, voice dropping again as he stepped in behind you, “I’ve still got energy for round two.”

You turned slightly, arching a brow. “You can barely stand.”

He leaned down, mouth brushing your ear. “Then come back later. I’ll be ready for you.”

You spun around, biting back a grin as you backed toward the door. “You’re insatiable.”

“And you’re irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile as you slipped out into the corridor, cheeks still flushed, legs wobbly, and your heart absolutely wrecked.

You didn’t even realize it until you were halfway to the dungeons—but you could still feel the ghost of his kiss on your temple.

And this time, it meant something.

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sognareleggiesogna · 1 month ago

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REVIEW TOUR: L'amore è una debolezza di S. J. Sylvis

Cari Sognatori, Lily ha letto il primo volume della serie sport romance Bexley U , scritta da S.J. Sylvis e pubblicata dalla Kiss Publishing per la Queen Edizioni !!! SERIE: Bexley U vol. 1 GENERE: Sport romance DATA DI PUBBLICAZIONE: 19 marzo 2025 Ebook / Cartaceo Affiliati Amazon Tutto è iniziato per gioco, ma adesso sta nascendo qualcosa di inaspettato. Theo Brooks è difficile da non notare.…

#Bexley U Series #BOOK ROMANCE #fake dating #forced proximity #hockey romance #kiss publishing #L&039;amore è una debolezza #queen edizioni #ROMANCE BOOKS #S J Sylvis #SPORT ROMANCE BOOKS #sport romance series

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yzeltia · 1 month ago

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The Phantom Tollbooth

Chapter 11: Alec Bings O.D. Rating: M Summary: Milo meets one of his great-grandpa's old acquaintances and finds himself still holding onto resentment about how the day began.

It wasn't long before the group had made their way past Point of View. Milo had wanted to stop to see their world's Tallest Man and Smallest man; however, Harmony had cautioned against meeting them as it would be one of those things he found rather annoying about The Lands Beyond. And so the five of them continued into the Forest of Sight, staying in the lighter wooded area to ensure they could drive safely along the path. Harmony had eventually replaced Azetta behind Milo, directing them toward their destination.

By the time the sun started to set, they found the forest gave way to a clearing and they found themselves in front of a modern looking cabin that seemed rather ordinary compared to having stayed in the Dictionopolis. The had a wrap around porch with a swing for taking in the serene forest about it. Hanging above the steps that led up to it had a small wooden, hand-carved sign that read "Alec Bings O.D."

"So this guy's an optometrist? Or is he going to be something stupid like an optimism doctor," Milo asked, expecting the most exhausting version of things.

"The former," Harmony assured him.

The Humbug buzzed passed the group and up to the door. "You are thinking of an Optimetrist," he called behind him before knocking his cane against the door. "Alec m'boy! Are you there? Your good friend, the Humbug, has come to visit you!"

After a moment, the door opened and the tallest man that Milo had ever scene stepped out, shaking the Humbug's hand immediately "Humbug! It has been ages. It's good to see you!"

"Indeed it is. I was just on an expedition-" the Humbug started before being cut off by Alec as he looked past him.

"Helga! You're back," Alec said, trotting down the steps of his cabin to greet Harmony.

Milo watched as Harmony rushed forward into the man's arms and off the ground to be embraced. "It's Harmony now. Oh Alec! It's so good to see you."

"Harmony? I like that a lot," Alec said with a small smile before putting the other down. "When you didn't return I worried you were detained elsewhere. To make matters worse the Entire Web has been abuzz with rumours of your kidnapping and that of the Princess...," Alec trailed as he looked over toward the bike with Milo, Azetta, and Digit standing beside it.

"Well, those rumours aren't exactly wrong," Milo shrugged as he leaned against his bike.

"I kidnapped myself," Azetta huffed before wandering up to Alec, nearly stepping backward as she looked up at the man.

"Your Highness," Alec said, bowing deeply before taking a step back so that his guests would not have to strain to see him. "And it is good to see you Digit. Your coat has come in lovely this year. Then that must make you the traitor Milo."

Milo looked over to the man as Harmony held onto his forearm like they'd do to him. Digit straighten up beside him, looking rather proud of her compliment while shrugged. "Guess I am."

Harmony let go of Alec, moving out toward Milo, just far enough to not to have to crane his neck to talk to Alec easily. "This is your Milo's great-grandson. The tollbooth brought him to us just as I thought it might."

"Great-Grandson? Time moves so strangely between the realms. It is a shame. I'd have liked to meet Milo all grown-down," Alec said, walking toward Milo.

"Grown down," Milo asked, brow raised as Alec's hand stuck out toward him to shake.

Milo reluctantly reciprocating the gesture Alec beamed. "Ah, that's right. You all grow-up. For my family we are born as tall as we'll be and grow downward until our feet hit the ground. Allows us to have a unique perspective of the world," he said while looking Milo over. "Now that I've gotten a good look at you, I see it. You've got the same hairline and nose."

"Do I? I barely remember the old man," Milo said, shifting as Harmony came close, expecting them to start hanging on them to instead find them pulling Alec toward the cabin.

"There's much to discuss now that Milo is here. We were hoping you'd offer some insight as to what we should do and where we should go as you assisted the previous Milo on his journey," Harmony said.

"As his mentor, I think we should retrace the steps of the previous Milo, but with the Kingdom more divided than ever and having not left the castle in some time I wasn't sure if that would be the correct course for him," Azetta added, following them inside the cabin with Digit in tow.

Milo sighed, walking his bike up to the front of the cabin, finding Humbug waiting on him with another of his grins. "It burns you does it not? Our dear Harmony hanging on someone else."

Milo furrowed his brow then shook his head as he entered the cabin, wishing very much to give the Humbug the finger but afraid he'd interpret as some sort of friendly gesture and start repeating it. Entering Alec's home, he was once again supried to find it relatively normal. The front door opened up to a large living area complete with a fire place and large open kitchen in the back. There was a hall that he assumed led to more rooms and a staircase. The only thing that was off was a room partitioned by a glass wall with matching lattice doors, which Milo assumed was for Alec's practice, thus making sense to him.

"It's late. I wasn't prepared for guests but I'm sure I can wrangle up some sandwiches for you and have a proper breakfast for you in the morning," Alec offered while digging about in his kitchen.

"That would be most appreciated. We've been riding since morning and have yet to have a proper meal. Let me help," they offered, joining Alec while the others settled in Alec's living area before his fireplace.

Alec smiled and began a small assembly line of sandwiches. "With it being late, I think you should rest before we get into your journey ahead. It will give us time to catch up and I'd like to get to know this Milo a little. I'm fascinated to know what became of our Milo."

"You are very kind accommodating us. I'm sorry we sprung this on you," Harmony sighed.

Milo watched as Alec turned Harmony's chin up toward him, smiling down sweetly at them, before he turned away and looked at the various collections the man had on his shelves. Spotting a photograph, he stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets while hearing Alec reassure Harmony that it was alright. "Is this you," Milo interrupted, pointing his thumb to a boy that seemed to hover in the air above some blond kid.

"Yes, it is. And that would be your great-grandfather with me," Alec said, leaving Harmony to take care of the sandwiches as he moved into the living room.

Azetta wanting to see to, hopped up to look up where Milo was pointing. "I don't see the resemblance at all. This kid looks like he still has some hope in him. You're…well," she said, looking Milo up and down.

"Thanks," Milo said wryly as Alec took the photo down for them to see.

On the edge, Humbug could be seen brandishing his cane, looking as if he were trying to come into view before the picture could be shot. Alec chuckled then handed it to Milo. "It was rather fascinating to experience the forest though his eyes. When you spend so long in one place, it's hard to see it as anything else than your home. The magic of it wears off until you have a chance to share it with someone knew who can appreciate what you take for granite all around you."

"I guess," Milo said, rolling his shoulders as he handed the photo over to Azetta.

Alec stared quietly at Milo then frowned before having his attention pulled to Harmony as they brought in a plate of sandwiches to hand out to everyone. The room mostly ate in silence; aside from the Humbug nosily eating and over complementing Harmony on the simple dish. When everyone had finished, Alec took the empty plate and went to clean up his kitchen.

"While my cabin is big, I only have two extra rooms so spacing will be tight," Alec said while raking a hand through his hair and looking at the group.

Humbug, who had found himself comfortable in a rocker kicked off his shoes and warmed his feet near the fire. "I shall be fine here, so do not worry about me."

"And I can sleep at the end of the Princess's bed. What time shall I set my alarm?" Digit asked, starting to tap away at her settings with her back paw.

"Alright then. Milo can have the last room then and Harmony can stay with me," Alec said, returning to the room and placing their hand on Harmony's shoulder.

"What? No way," Milo protested.

"Now what?" Azetta lamented, kneeling to help Digit select a time that wasn't too early.

"We were just chased out of the kingdom because I shared a bed with Harmony and no one's going to bat an eye at him taking them to bed," Milo asked, gesturing flippantly toward Alec.

"Well. It is more that the implications were that you'd snuck into my room for an ulterior reason," Harmony explained, face lightly flushed. "And assumptions were made because there lacked context."

Milo tightened his fist and grit his teeth. "It's just a double standard is all. It caused us a big head ache and here we are throwing you in bed with some guy."

"He's not some guy. I've known him my entire life," Harmony corrected. "And he's taken very good care of me every time I've come through the Forest of Sight."

"I bet he has. I guess that's why you wanted to com here so badly," Milo growled.

Alec cleared his throat. "If this is a problem then I can sleep on my couch."

"You will not," Harmony and Milo said together as they stared each other down.

"Then why don't you share my bed and Harmony can take the guest room," Alec offered, trying to broker peace. "Unless you wanted Harmony to sleep with you."

"I didn't say that," Milo said quickly, feeling his temper flare. "Fuck, this is impossible."

"Milo, stop cursing," Harmony scolded.

"What are you going fuckin' do about it," Milo shot back.

"ALRIGHT," Azetta yelled, cutting through the arguing. "It has been a very long day and every one is on edge. Alec, you're the host, you do not need to give up your bed. Milo, go to the guest room and just be unpleasant by yourself. Harmony can sleep on the couch."

"I really don't mind if I sleep out here-" Alec tried to interject, silenced when the princess held up her finger.

"Get Harmony a blanket and a comfortable pillow," Azetta ordered firmly.

"The couch is probably shit to sleep on. Let Harmony take the guest-" Milo grumbled.

"What did I just say? Go to your room. The Humbug hasn't done anything wrong to have to put up with your bad attitude all night," Azetta snapped.

The Humbug, who usually interjected with something irrelevant to be heard, stayed quiet in fear the princess would scold him next. Milo fearing the same, took a step back from the young girl then tucked his hands into his jacket pocket and followed Alec quietly toward the hall.

"You got a bathroom? I've been riding all day and I'm kind of gross," Milo mumbled.

"Take the bedroom upstairs. It has it's own bathroom," Alec said, getting into a closet to fish out a blanket as instructed, leaving Milo to trudge up the stairs alone.

Closing the door behind him, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back to gently rest it on the wood. "I'm a fucking jerk," he breathed out before kicking his shoes off and unzipping his jacket.

The rest of his clothes following, he entered the bathroom, finding a simple tub instead of a proper shower. He'd not remembered the last time he'd taken a bath, and given his lousy mood and aching from straddling his bike all day, it didn't sound too bad. It helped that the tub was large enough to accommodate someone Alec's size this making it more than big enough to accommodate him.

Hitting the faucet, he felt for warm water and once it was hot but not scalding he plugged the drain and let it fill. Time to fill, he went back into his room only to realise they'd not brought in their things from the side car and he rather not face anyone downstairs after their arguing. Sighing, he returned to the bathroom then got in the tub, deciding to let it fill with him inside.

Once the water reached his chest, he turned the spigot off with his feet then let them rest up on the edge of the tub as he reclined and tried to relax. As he let his head empty, a knock occurred then Harmony's voice called out. "Milo?"

"I'm in the bathroom," he called back before jumping as the door slowly pushed open. "What part of that sounded like an invitation Har!?'

"Sorry. I heard the water running and I just thought you might want your…um…clothes," Harmony answered, holding up Milo's bag as their eyes trailed down his legs.

Milo reached down to cup himself, feeling rather vulnerable being caught off guard and prone. "Just set it on the counter," he mumbles, looking away. "Thanks…and…sorry for losing my cool down there. "

"It's okay. We've had a long day," Harmony replied, putting the bag aside and moving to stand inside the bedroom to keep the door between them. "Goodnight…Milo."

"Goodnight Harmony."

Milk closed his eyes then sighed before dipping underwater. Resurfacing, he began to wash off properly and when finished unplugged the drain. After towelling off, he moved to his bag, not really wanting to bother with dressing but deciding it was best to do so after a day of people barging in at the worst times.

He slipped on a fresh pair of black boxer briefs as he moved back into the bedroom, glad he'd opted for clothing as he noticed Harmony sitting on his bed facing away from him just as he tucked himself in comfortably into his underwear. "You good Har?"

"No…I'm…feeling terrible about today," they said weakly.

Milo followed their gaze out the window. He felt he could almost use them as a compass, knowing their mind was south east on the rolling rainy plains. "Harmony," he said, moving to stand in their line of sight. "You're not responsible for me being a dick."

Harmony slowly raised their gaze then let their eyes drift down to the floor, away from Milo. "No, I-"

"No, Harmony. You're not at fault by any stretch of the imagination," Milo reaffirmed, kneeling to put his hands on the other's shoulder. "Why don't you go take bath? I'll go sleep downstairs on the couch and let Azetta give me an earful in the morning."

Harmony shook their head. "No, don't do that," they cooed, hand sliding up to hold Milo's wrist against them. "I think I will take a bath though…"

"Alright. I'm gonna crash then," Milo said, waiting for Harmony to move their hand before crawling into the bed, slipping back the quilt on top in favour of the sheet under it.

Milo must have been tired than he had realised, finding himself instantly asleep as he hit the pillow. The thing that roused him from his slumber was a hit of steam as the bathroom door opened. Lazily, he sat up, finding Harmony shyly wandering forward with a towel bunched up in front of their legs. "Milo…I only brought your bag upstairs," Harmony whispered.

"S'fine…just put on your clothes and go get it," Milo grunted, beating his pillow back into a comfortable position.

"They're wet…I left them on the floor not realising you'd dripped everywhere," Harmony explained.

"Fuck…I'll go get it then," Milo grumbled, starting to sit up only to have Harmony back against the opposite wall and shake their head.

"No. It's fine…just go back to sleep. I'll wait for them to dry," they explained nervously, though Milo wasn't lucid enough to register it. "Though…maybe I could borrow your shirt so I'm not just standing here naked?"

"That's fine…just put it on and get in bed. Let them be mad," Milo gruffed, scooting over as he watched Harmony drop their towel.

Milo felt heat in his cheeks rise, not expecting Harmony to so casually revel themself to him. He watched as Harmony picked up his discarded clothing, shaking out his old black band t-shirt he picked up from a concert. Wandering toward bed, they pulled the shirt on and let it drop down about their body before finally joining Milo in bed.

"Everything got wet?" Milo asked, finding Harmony scooting closer to him.

"Yes." Harmony mumbled sheepishly. "Why?"

"If it looked bad this morning, adding you bare-assed and wearing my shirt is just going to add more fuel to their fire," Milo mumbled, barely hanging on as he closed his eyes.

"I locked the door and the others know better…mostly. I don't think any of them would think you were actually up to something. After all, I'm probably not your typical choice of partner," Harmony hummed softly, resting their head beside Milo's.

"Yeah. You're not. I don't do the whole girlfriend thing. No one's stayed the night with me more than once. Consider yourself lucky," Milo sighed before rolling over, staying quiet for a moment before continuing. "If I did the whole relationship thing…if I liked someone enough I don't think it'd matter much to me what's in their pants."

Milo settled in comfortably, Harmony silent behind him until their arm came about his waist. He felt them hug him, cheek pressed against his back. A soft smile crept across his face, just briefly, before falling asleep with Harmony clinging to him.

#the phantom tollbooth #fan fiction #boys in love #slow burn #forced proximity #friends to lovers #love grows

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