#i cant help but think it was selfish I cant help but see his face

[tidepoolalgae]

.

[sincerelyneo]

could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had. 

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales. 

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. 

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think. 

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous. 

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy. 

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath. 

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug. 

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap. 

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair. 

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought. 

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other. 

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it. 

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument. 

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys. 

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy. 

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to. 

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes. 

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.  

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head. 

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw. 

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap. 

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt. 

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper. 

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock. 

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too. 

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers. 

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud. 

“Mark…” 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.” 

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been. 

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.” 

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock. 

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does. 

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick. 

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment. 

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more. 

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you. 

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax. 

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back. 

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do. 

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed. 

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."

[kroosluvr]

january 9

ok i have a lot of thoughts. erm. buckle in

im sure everyone agrees that the joker vs sumire fight on jan 9 was so nothing..... so i wanted to raise the stakes. UP THE ANTE.

so to make it more intense life-and-death situation, in my head sumire basically tosses her own life away at joker in a "one of us is gonna die here and honestly? i dont care which way the cards fall"

"either i die here -> sumire doesn't have to live anymore. or, i kill you and i get my true reality (and sumire doesn't have to live anymore.)"

joker notices this immediately, by the wild way she fights all of a sudden. however crow doesn't notice bc i think he sees sumire as inexperienced and just assumes joker will win by default (like he does in canon. nothingburger fight.....)

but joker is too damn cautious, knowing one wrong move might result in her demise or his downfall...

i think here he only deflects with his melee, doesn't even try to summon his personas. crow notices smth is off and then sumire manages to get a deep hit on him w cendrillon+her sword

which activates crow bc. at this point he dgaf abt sumire BUT he doesnt want joker to die.

(ironically, crow's selfish goal to Help Joker helps sumire bc she then realizes that she's being irrational/hurting one of her dear friends (akira).. she didnt really think abt how this choice of the ideal reality would affect him (or goro)

also i always thought crow just walking away frm that fight was kinda lame so. just the idea of akira Faltering... about to let himself get killed.. in a way Giving In to the Wrong Choice of the ideal reality.... yeah that'd piss him off BIG time

(though, if i framed it in the way this comic does, crow walking away at first to let joker handle it is so real. bc hes like i cant be wasting time on this, just let akira handle her and then we can go back to figuring out how to conquer this palace and maruki etc. Sumire is small potatoes rn)

also akira being too compassionate/sensitive abt her emotions to fight her directly bc he can see how shes barely hanging on by a thread.. ough ough ough.....

but also sumire being so angry and desperate that she dgaf if she hurts akira rn. OHHHH OUCHHH OWIE

also this is the scene i showed in the bg of this comic! (sorry twitter link im lazy

"she'd rather die at our hands than her own" implying if she lost here and didnt die, she'd kill herself upon returning to the True reality bc she cant live with "sumire" anymore. okkk.. yeah

"This is the only way. I know you know that too, Joker" -> the only way back to our reality as we know it. we can't afford to be soft if it'll kill us. if this is truly sumire's choice, then we HAVE to fight. we can't back down here.

(and, also, this is the only way to show sumire that we're serious: we won't let her live as kasumi, she has to face herself, she can't run off to some dystopian ideal reality - this is the only way!!!!!)

Dying's easy. we already know sumire would die to become kasumi, to become a better gymnast, to not be sumire anymore. But would she kill for it. Who would she kill for it

[brain-deadx0]

(Got a brain worm that I had to write. No plans to continue so feel free to take for yourself)

Batman was responding to reports of Harley Quinn running around Gotham. Joker had been put back in Arkham several months ago so there was a chance she was making a move to set him free again.

But apparently Harley was expecting him.

"Well finally! You sure know how to keep a gal waiting Batsy. Ive been running around all night waitin for ya."

When Harley turned to face him his eyes were immediately drawn to her stomach.

"You're pregnant..."

"Yeesh your manners are bad ya cant just say that!" Harley rolled her eyes before pausing with a sigh and a serious look that almost seemed out of place on her, "But yeah... I am."

"Joker?" Batman asked softly.

Harley nodded, "Thats why I was runnin around tonight. Wanted to get your attention." She looked down before continuing, "I was in denial about it at first. I was always careful with that birth control stuff ya know? And I didn't want it to be real. Before I knew it it was too late to... you know... but. But I dont think I coulda anyway. I know its selfish but I love em too much already. Thats why I need your help."

"I'll help in anyway I can." Batman told her, "I can set up a place for the two of you where Joker won't find you."

Harley shook her head, "No can do Batsy. Mista J wouldn't let me go that easy. Specially if he knows about my little puddin. And if I'm honest I love him too much to leave too.

"I need someplace to have 'im that won't tell. And... I want you to look out for him. Not like, take 'im in or nothing. If I see my baby runnin around as one of your birds in ten years I'll let you have it-" She sighed, "But find someplace away from Gotham and all this. I don't want this for my little puddin. I don't want him to turn out like me or Joker and his best chance is someplace else.

"Please Batman."

-

Bruce kept his promise to Harley. She gave birth in secret and Daniel was taken to the other side of the country to be left at a firestation with nothing but his name and a note from Harley saying she loved him.

When Daniel was adopted Bruce ran a background check on his new parents. Inventors who seemed to be researching some sort of renewable energy and already had a child. Seemed safe enough.

He checked the area when they moved to a small town in Illinois and it seemed safe enough even with the likely tourist trap of "most haunted town in America"

Daniel, or Danny as he seemed to prefer, got decent grades and had a few close friends. His grades dropped suddenly for a time but eventually they returned to their previous state so he didn't worry too much.

But when the boy applied to and was accepted into Gotham U, Bruce started to worry.

They had left Danny as far away from Gotham as possible. So what were the chances he should return?

[divinesolas]

Undeniable Desire

c.w season two spoilers; characters (addam and nettles), mention of dragonseeds (nothing more), loss of virginity (jacaerys) non virgin reader, smut, fingering (fem), oral (fem), p in v, clothed sex ?, possessive jacaerys, not proofread

summary: You are dragonseed and have become good friends with the prince. You think nothing of it and not expecting your desires to lead to anything but when you speak of what you think of your future his truer colors show.

w.c: 1.8k

a.n: anybody else cant stop thinking about bridgerton LMAO, i need to rewatch soon, anyways i hope you all enjoy :3 promise im getting around to requests i just needed to push out this idea 🥰 LOVE YOU GUYS

You finally manage to shake off addam and his drunken rampage with a laugh telling him off. “come on you cant leave yet.” “I am going to bed you fool leave me be.” You knock him upside the head and he groans giving you the opportunity to walk away and turn back to the rest of them with a wave. Chimes of goodnights and sleep well are what your met with and you walk away, feeling eyes burning into you you turn back once more and see him staring at you with an unknown look on his face, taking a drink out of his chalice ignoring alyn next to him who was talking his ear off, not even sparing him a glance as he continues to stare at you.

You turn around attempting to ignore how your stomach burns and your face heats at the thought of him. Jacaerys Velaryon. You just like the rest of your ‘dragonseed’ friends have grown close to jacaerys during your time together. Yet you can’t help but feel their was something different about the way he looked at you and even other people can’t help but notice it either.

‘He is definitely wants to fuck you.’ ‘Nettles!’ The girl next to you laughs before chugging down her wine. ‘Do not say such things.’ Addam walks over and drops down to the spot next to you, ‘what are you two talking about?’ ‘The prince.’ ‘ah and how he wants to shag miss oblivious right here.’ ‘did you guys plan this?!’ You in your frustration rip the cup out of addams hands and chug it. ‘its not our fault he makes it so painfully obvious and you are so painfully oblivious to it.’ You shake your head and keep your gaze at the campfire in front of you. ‘It is not true.’ you don’t see the way the pair look at each other and instead start picking at the grass near you.

Even if it was true it wouldn’t matter, you certainly had no intention of sleeping with him. He was betrothed and he certainly did not seem like the type of man to lay around with any women he saw fit. He was the crowned prince for gods sake the heir to the queen and you were in the middle of a damn succession war feelings be damned and you were certain your friends were just playing jokes on you and he certainly just saw you as a friend.

You think nothing of it as you are getting ready to go to bed, just having put on your night gown after your bath, when the flap of your tent opens and you turn to it alarmed and let out a sigh of relief when you see him. “I am sorry i did not mean to disturb you.” “It is no issue my prince, Do you need something?”

You turn back to the mirror and fiddle around with your hair, eyeing the prince through the mirror. He just stares at you for a moment and takes a drink from his cup, you gulp and look away from him, pushing down your own desires attempting to stop your imagination from running wild. What if he just walked over to you and pushing you against the mirror, ripping off your dress and having his way with you, maybe he would drop to his knees and wrap his lips around your pearl, only letting go until you were withering and begging him to stop.

You shake your head and “Would it be selfish of me to admit i missed you? i feel as though we did not talk much today?” You smile lightly at his words and curse yourself for thinking such terrible things. Of course he simply just wished to see you, as he had been busy with his duties all day, only getting to see you all at the end of they day only for you to leave before getting to say a single word to him.

“You honor me my prince with your time.” He shakes his head with a laugh taking another sip, “i would give you anything in the world.” You flush and look down, fiddling with your dress too embarrassed to move from your place in front of the mirror. Hes just being dramatic you think, he does not mean what he says, especially since he seems to be drinking. “You are too kind my prince.” “Call me Jace i beg of you.” “Would you truly beg me?” “I would get on my knees at your feet and do whatever you asked.” Your knees shake as you press your thighs together, the heat between you legs almost unbearable, a part of you wants to shoo him away so you can put your hand between your legs and take care of yourself or find some poor soul in the camp to relieve yourself with. You don’t, you cannot simply ask him to leave for such selfish reasons, especially since you know deep deep down that if you sought out somebody else you would only be thinking about him.

He seems to realize you don’t plan on saying anything so he begins to speak. “You know they were all talking about something.” You give him an interested look in the mirror and he takes another sip, “About what they were planning on doing after this fight is over. Do you have any thoughts? About what you plan to do?” You look up in thought, “I haven't given it much thought if im being honest.” He hums but says nothing. “Maybe i go off to the reach, it sounds very lovely.” “You would not stay in the keep?” You laugh at his idea and shake your head, “Why would i stay there? What would you miss me?” He says nothing and you don't look at him, instead continue talking, lost in your own imagination. “I would probably travel around for a bit, then find some lord to marry he fuck some babies into me and then i live the rest of my life-” You gasp as your suddenly pushed against the mirror being completely trapped by him, you hadn’t even registered the cup being thrown to the ground.

“My prince?” He flips you around suddenly and your eye to eye with him. His hands grip your waist and pull you directly against him. “You will not leave.” “I don't understand-” “You are not going anywhere you will stay by my side.” He has an animalistic look about him, like he's about to eat you whole, completely bewildered by the idea of you leaving. “I have no place in the keep.” “Your place is by my side.” His words have such a finality and certainty about them as if he's giving you no reason to argue with him. “You are to be married, This is highly inappropriate.” Your words are pushed out like puffs of air as his hands have moved up to your chest, rubbing your nipples through the fabric, you can feel him hardening between your legs. “I shall take you as a my second wife, no one will argue i will be king.” “You are being absurd.” “Do you desire me?”

You pull him into a heated kiss. He quickly reciprocates, his hands moving from your waist to under your night gown and he lets out a delighted hum at the liquid on your thighs. ‘Are you bare?” “I was planning on sleeping.” He moans lightly before he pauses before actually touching, “Do you want this?” you nod feverishly, “Please touch me please.” wasting no more time he runs his fingers along your folds, “This is for me right? and no some stupid pompous lord in the reach.” “yes yes.” You answer him but he doesn't seem to be listening, mumbling to himself in anger. “I hate the lords in the reach, always with each other heads in their asses no way you will marry any of them, let them put a baby in you.” He sticks two fingers inside you, “I wouldn’t i wouldn’t only you.” The pit in your lower stomach grows as you watch in shock him drop to his knees in front of you, his body being lost to your gown as he begins to lick and suck at your clit, his fingers moving quicker to pump in and out of you.

You cannot speak so much of his name. Using one of your hands to cover your mouth to not draw attention to yourself, the other plays with one of your tits, sliding it under your dress. He does not let up, even has you orgasm once then twice, only releasing you after the third time and you fall back, leaning against the mirror with wobbly legs as he keeps a tight grip on you holding you up as he stands. You can see the shine of your own essence on his lips and jaw, you swear you can even see some of it dripping down his neck into his collarbone.

He simply stands there and watches you fiddle around with his pants to free him for a few moments as he licks his lips. “You do not know how often i have thought about this.” You look up at him and give him a smile, “You think of me?” “Every minute of everyday, my waking thoughts and my dreams are only filled with you.”

Before you know it he is pushing into you with a hiss and you chuckle with a delighted moan at his closed eyes and clenched teeth. “First time?” “I may not have been your first but i will be your last.” Giving himself a second to get used to your pulsing warm walls that seem to be sucking him in every second he begins to move. Hes a little sloppy, clearly unsure and if anything a little unconfident about what he’s supposed to do. You place your head on his neck, making sure your lips are right next to his ear and you begin to move your hips to meet his, moaning in his ear only for him to hear.

He gains confidence after a few moments and soon enough you have no longer and need to meet him as he begins to pound into you diligently. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his tunic as the pit in your stomach grows once more. “please tell me your close.” You’re shocked he’s even managed to last this long but nod and he groans in delight. “Please peak please together.”

The mirror behind you is completely covered with a foggy mist just as your eyes are when you finally release. You pray as you catch your breath that you two were quiet enough because you would rather be dead than me made fun of by your friends for finally fucking the prince. But as you feel his seed running out your lips and down your thigh you decide maybe it was worth it.

--

perm jacaerys taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese

[vnards]

MafiaAU pt 2

“Here you go!”

Ghost’s fingers stuttered.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Your attention stirred something in him. Your fingers began playing with your apron again. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been watching the door since you’ve sat down.”

Ghost didn’t respond immediately, not used to having conversations with strangers as most thought he was too scary to even look at, “No. Pretty day outside.” He stated simply. He pulled his mask up to take a sip of coffee you had made for him.

You nod, almost eagerly, “I love spring. Sunny days are my favorite.” You look out the window to mourn your longing for outside. Ghost used the moment to soak in every inch of you. “Would you like a piece of pie? Fresh out the oven.” Your offer was so genuine, so polite.

He nods, “Please,” and you scamper back off behind the counter, a renewed pep. Ghost isn’t one for pie, prefers cake, but you asked so nicely. How could he refuse? Ghost’s phone dinged with a message. An all call from Price.

A shame.

You came back with the piece of pie, the light on your face dimmed as you see him place money on the table, “You're leaving?” you nearly sounded disappointed. It tugged on a string in his heart a bit.

“Enjoy it for me, doll.” The offer seemed to settle your sadness for something else.

“Oh, I-I can't. I'm still on the clock.”

“Sit.” The suggestion came out more of a command then anything. But you listened so well. And without question. “Eat my pie for me, darling.” He settle back into his booth, eyes scanning the room behind you for any potential threat. Ghost’s eyes lifted to the waiting at the till, over watching your interaction with him. His eyes held a suspicion he’s seen from other men before. Other men who want to dig his claws in a pretty thing like you.

The weight of the gun hidden against his chest whispers to him. Convincing him of a threat. His fingers being to tap again.

“What's your name?” the lithe in your voice breaking through the whispers. He gives you his full attention.

“Simon.” A name only those close to him use.

You smile and tell him your name. He repeats it, enjoying the feeling of it on his tongue. “I believe everyone has a story,” you eat his pie, just like he requested, “I think I'd like to know your story.”

Ghost’s fingers still. “I’m not a story you’d want to read, doll.”

You look up at him with those eyes of yours, a gentleness he knows he would ruin. The blood on his hands too stained to ever wash off.

He knows what he should do. He should walk away, let you go. Let you not be smeared by his meer presence. But Ghost was always a selfish man. Ghost tried to ignore the lick of fire at the thought of ruining you.

You slide a napkin across the table, a series of numbers written on it, your cheeks . Ghost cant help but smirk behind the mask. “Well, if you ever change your mind…”

The buzzing of his cell phone caught the table’s attention. Ghost grumbled, knowing only one person who would call him. You seem to know it’s a dismissal as well, seeming to slump further in the booth, the air of rejection about you. Ghost almost felt bad, but he hoped a few extra bills would make up for it.

The call continued to ring, Ghost was in no hurry to pick it up. You begin to protest at the extra cash on the table, but Ghost simply didn’t want to hear it. “Stay out of trouble, doll.”

He grabs the napkin as he goes.

next part ->

previous part masterlist

[konigsblog]

know that you brought up simon as a actual rapist i cant stop seeing it

TW: RAPE/NON-CON, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. DARK CONTENT, INTOXICATION. 18+ (SCROLL IF YOU'RE TRIGGERED. YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.)

simon who's sensitised to rape after taking part in attempted rape, helping out his buddy. :(

he thinks there's nothing morally wrong with what he's doing. simon believes he deserves it, considering his role in society. a man should always get what he pleases and desires; what he longs for. simon's eyes wander your body, smoking a cigarette held between his two thick, gloves fingers. the black balaclava shields his face, giving him a threatening appearance, one that'll have you shuddering, your breath caught in your throat.

you're drunk, lightheaded, clearly having too much to drink. poor thing, you probably need some rest, but simon's hungry and perverse gaze wanders, his thick and hard cock stiffening in his boxers. gloved hands grasp at your waist abruptly, covering your mouth with a large palm, silencing your screams as he drags you further into the alleyway, darkness consuming you as you're thrown to the cold, wet concrete.

you're weak; defenceless and weak, benefitting the large, looming man, a man you don't recognise – at least at first. simon's cock springs free from the tight confines of his boxers, smacking against his bare and muscular abdomen as he pulls his shirt up, pushing inside your folds painfully. it's all agony, your screams silenced by his cooes, a pathetic attempt to coddle and soothe you from the fear. he doesn't like to cause fear — he already does that enough — he rather just... desires and believes he has the right to a selfish act; an inhumane and dirty, filthy act.

his hand covers your mouth, feeling your slit swell around his thick, lengthy cock, prodding against your gummy cervix with each thrust. your screams fall, quietening down as he pushes inside, too drunk to plead for mercy anymore. simon feels his stomach tighten with shame and guilt, the feeling of wrongness. something is nagging at him, that this is wrong — but god, if it's so wrong, why does it feel so fucking good?

control is his power, having power is everything to simon. how else is he supposed to look at you, as your superior? recognising you as the woman he took advantage of brutally and disgustingly.

[cheriladycl01]

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 3

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Standing up on the podium, not being able to do anything as you watched Oscar run off was torture. You had to stay there while your national anthem played that should have been amazing considering it was you, Lewis and Lando all up there together.

And of course, there were no breaks for you afterwards. Everyone wanted you, from SkySports, to F1, to Netflix. Everyone was throwing questions at you and asking how different your achievements feel now knowing that your the first woman to have completed many of them.

You were fine answering them, because like they said. All of your previous achievements were now bigger than they were as Ghost. People could tell that you weren't fully with them, you were a little spacey and sometimes struggled with hearing and answering the questions.

Most of them put it down to the post race fuzz of the win and revealing who you were, but upon getting to the Sky Sports Team who consisted of Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg, Natalie Pinkham and Danica Patrick questions turned sour.

"So Y/N aside from racing we caught light of Oscar Piastri's quick depart after the reveal, any insight on this?" Danica asks, making you look down.

"I don't think these questions are necessary" Jenson says just as the Red Bull PR manager was about to ask for racing related questions only.

"Yes please stick to racing questions only" the Red Bull PR backs up, nodding before taking a step back. You look back up, straight to Nico who had a soft look on his face.

"I'm just interested, you raced for Alpine last year when he was a reserve driver... for Alpine and you've been promoted to Red Bull this year while Piastri's made the move to Mclaren. Can't help but wonder if its underlying sexism that's made him this mad, you all cant deny he was blunt and rude in his interview with us earlier" Danica pushes and you head snaps up. You feel a hand on your shoulder as if to stop you from what your about to say but you go ahead anyway.

"I've hurt a dear friend. So how dare you stand there and try to victimize me, when he is the one that I've hurt. He knew me as Ghost's assistant and media manager... we were close and I've not been truthful to him for obvious reasons. So don't stand there and try to make him out to be a misogynistic twat when he isn't. I don't know what you experienced in NASCAR Danica but in F1 all I've experienced today is love and support. Just because your sport sucks doesn't mean mine does" you snap, and recoil shocked that you'd just said all of that. She looks at you also in shock, Jenson and Nico were trying to stop their laughter.

"Well, some strong opinions there from Y/N Y/L/N" Jenson says as he watches you turn away and walk off. You were done with interviews for the day. You just wanted to find Oscar and talk to him now.

"Lando! Lando" you shout as you see the curly haired boy ahead of you walking into the Mclaren motorhome.

"Hey, Y/N or should i say Ghost" he smiles before pulling you into a hug.

"I was not expecting that bombshell today, and I will admit I'm sorry for assuming you were some ugly guy... your very obviously not" he laughs.

"Where's Oscar" you ask, you didn't want to seem rude but of course he was your priority right now.

"Y/N, I don't think its a good idea to see him right now. I think maybe just wait for him to come to you. He's upset and" he starts but you look him dead in the eye.

"He upset me too, he just ran off... at my first race win" you say as selfish as it was... but he also ruined that experience for you.

"I know, but you did like lie to him for just under 2 years" Lando says softly not wanting to rattle your already unstable cage of self hatred.

"And what was i supposed to do Lando, tell him a secret that Red Bull had me sign an NDA over and break my contract and risk loosing my seat?" you ask, hoping he would start to understand.

"Look Y/N you really should go..." Lando pushes looking around the area you were currently in. He put a hand on your lower back as to guide you back out, but you planted yourself still.

"No, I'm not leaving till i talk to him" you grunt.

"Y/N I'm telling you this as your friend and your co-worker. You need to go" he says, you'd actually never seen his eyes this serious before and it had your head cocking to the side in confusion.

As your about to ask him why the hell he's being so twitchy, two people stumble out of the next room a little disheveled and both laughing. You eyes lock on them.

"O-Oscar?" you ask in shock, the girl looks up at him confused and his face turns red but also a sour expression comes onto his face.

Before any of them can say anything your turning away from them, everything feels slow motion, all the voices around you blur and your heartbeat comes erratic.

You couldn't understand why it hurt so much, the thought of him not even for a moment being happy for you up on a podium that he come here to be with some other girl ... or was it because in the time you'd spent with him you'd fallen for the racer.

You round the corner, stumbling behind the Mclaren motorhome so that you could just breath. You crouch down, your head leaning back against the side.

"Fucks sake" you say to yourself, once you'd calmed yourself from the initial shock you fully sat down on the metal edging outside the Mclaren motorhome.

"Y/N?" you hear a voice ask, your head peaks up and you spot Alex and Logan.

"Oh, hey guys. Great Race today!" you smile.

"Why are you just sat outside the Mclaren motorhome?" Logan asks raising an eyebrow at you.

"Oh, erm no reason. I just got lost on my way back to Red Bull" you smile standing up and walking to the long strip and turning left.

"Your still clearly lost, Red Bull's that way" Alex says pointing to the right hand side, that you weren't facing.

"Right, yeah i knew that" you smile, turning round and scuttering off the other way.

To say that the UK was the start of something spectacular was an understatement. You didn't go out and celebrate that night, you stayed in with your family.

The next race was Hungary where you proceeded to take the win away from Max in the last 3 laps, being on the fresher tires. They asked you to let Max take the win but you begged for them to let you fight it out. You shared the podium with Max and Lando, in Spa you came second, sharing the podium with Max and Charles and in The Netherlands you came 4th.

Throughout all of this Oscar hadn't reached out to you. You'd kept in contact with Lando, asking how he was and what had been going on. However Monza changed things.

An article came out about an interview Oscar had done about you and how you hadn't spoken to him since. He hadn't spoken very nicely about you when all you'd done was stick up for him. You guys got into a massive argument outside the garages that of course people caught on camera.

You had a really bad qualifying, the car just didn't have pace and your mind wasn't in the right place. So you were starting P14 on the grid, after a cry to Christian that you were so overwhelmed and him assuring you that it was today that really mattered.

You had turned off everything when you got in the car on the Sunday. No thoughts in your head just the racing. On the start you managed to get yourself to P12 overtaking Liam and Nico right of the bat.

"Excellent start Y/N lets keep pushing"

Martin Bundle - I have to say that Y/N is incredible with these races where she starts down in the back of the grid, and she gets those amazing starts where she slips in the middle of the two drivers ahead and is able to confidently get herself up too places

"Okay, and Alonso are ahead, you have DRS" your engineer tells you, and you are able to overtake Yuki who doesn't go as aggressively into the chicane as you do. You have a little spin but recover enough to pull up aside Alonso on the straight, going for the overtake.

"Amazing Y/N, that's P10 right now. Keep pushing"

Eventually you were left fighting Carlos, Max clipped a tire and was now down in 4th fighting with Charles.

"Y/N this has been a fantastic race, from P14 up to P2, Carlos is 1.8 second ahead. Lets get him and bring home a double podium. Max is fighting for P3 right now. 5 laps to go" he advises.

"Tell him to speed up, I'll give him DRS we can overtake Sainz together so its a 1.2" you advise looking seeing the Ferrari behind you. You slow down on the hairpin, breaking early, which Charles didn't expect where he was concentrating on defending from Max. You speed up, watching as he spins out a little leaving room for Max on the inside.

"Okay, Sainz has sped up there's now a 2.6 second gap"

"Copy that" you say, Max was using your slip stream, but didn't go for the overtake, you easily defended from Charles together while gaining on the other Ferrari.

"Okay last two laps, Sainz, 0.3 second gap"

"Yeah i can fucking tell I'm riding his rear end" you say, the minute you get onto the straight you and Max both go either side of Sainz, sandwiching him in as your about to go into turn 11. He breaks early falling back leaving you to take the optimal racing line and get ahead of Max.

"Is Max fighting this last lap?" you ask.

"He's been told is free to fight. Mode push and bring us another win" your race engineer advises, you breeze through the final lap, it was a close call but you came first.

"Y/N Y/L/N winner of the 2023 Italian Grand Prix" your race engineer says a big grin coming onto your face as you flip up the visor holding your fist up as you see all the Red Bull crew cheering for you on the fencing.

"Where did Oscar place?" you ask, you hadnt thought about him up until now. Even as you passed the orange 81 car, it was just another car then.

"Not a good race for Piastri, P12 behind Lawson"

"Okay. Thank you for the great drive today. Thank you Christian" you say before preparing yourself for the podium.

Would Oscar be there?

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle

[charliemwrites]

Making this a separate post because the idea has evolved a bit:

(Was talking about this in the discord if it looks familiar)

I’m thinking less of a 1 to 1 Greek god au. I’m thinking it’s more of a theme to their dynamic and in parts of their story.

Johnny is a reincarnation of some ancient, nameless (or many-named) god, associated with dark forces. He’s not evil incarnate. But he is something of a representation of “darker” human nature. Anger, bloodlust, impatience, selfishness.

Persephone!reader, by comparison, is sort of a personification of gentler human nature. Patience, mercy, altruism, gentleness. She is less “awakened” so to speak because her mother has been a major limiting factor in her life. Like, helicopter parent to the extreme.

Persephone!reader goes to her aunt Laswell as a sort of compromise. See the world, the real world, in a controlled sort of way with her aunt watching carefully over her shoulder.

Problem is, no one is expecting the dreams to start as soon as she gets to base. Dreams of a man that scares her as much as tempts her, and encouraging the worst and most selfish of her impulses. She doesn’t tell anyone - why would she? They’re just dreams.

Captain MacTavish scares intimidates her, even though she insists that he doesn’t, looking him in the eye with her chin tilted up defiantly. When he’s on base he finds all sorts of ways to cross her path, sometimes teasing her into an indignant fluster, other times telling her off for “distracting recruits”. Always, always has an eye on her, even if it’s not his own.

Once things come to a head (I haven’t figured out how yet) Persephone!reader insists it isn’t fair. And just because they’ve been something in the past doesn’t mean they have to now.

Johnny, of course, is utterly amused. She’s barely got any idea what’s going on, but sure, she’s going to deny forces beyond life and death.

They strike a deal. When he’s away (for months at a time… a season’s length, even) she can run and hide and do whatever she wants to “escape” him. If he cant find her within a week of coming back, then he’ll leave her be and she’s “free”.

(She scoffs that he’s going to cheat, using her aunt and all of her connections but he just scoffs. As if Laswell would help him over her own niece. And as if he needs the help.)

He always finds her within a day of coming back from a mission. No matter where she is or what her name is. No matter how well she covers her tracks (even with Laswell’s help). He comes to her with gifts.

At first it would be sweet if not for the smirk on his face and the realization that she’s “lost” again. He brings flowers of all kinds, and green plants in little pots. Then it’s a new sweater, a nice coat, a piece of jewelry.

And then… and then they get worse. A bullet is the first sign. It’s just a whole bullet, her name engraved in its side. Then it’s a casing, the bullet clearly having been shot. He tells her it went right between someone’s eyes. The “gifts” become patches from enemy jackets, pretty stones splattered with dried blood, a human tooth.

It’s awful. She hates it. She can’t ever make herself say it (or believe it). And when he’s gone, she physically can’t make herself throw them away. Shes tried and tried, and the last time she put a real effort into it, she ended up on the floor having a panic attack, sobbing and calling Johnny.

(He purrs at her through the phone, gunfire background noise while he soothes her back inside. His voice keeps her company while she makes a tea, readies a bath. Tuts at her to call him again when she’s tucking into bed. She refuses to acknowledge that she does.)

Similarly, she finds herself getting or making things for him. For his inevitable return. Cigars and his favorite whiskey. Making patches for his uniform. A leather bracelet with her initials on a silver charm. A ring with an inlay the color of her eyes. Doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until she’s home or the thing is done. She’ll hide them away for months with no plans of giving them to Johnny. He inevitable finds them within his first week home anyway.

(There’s the one time she bakes for him, humming as she measures and mixes ingredients. Lets him steal tastes from the bowl and lick flour off her cheek. Only realizes what she’s done in a domestic haze when he’s eaten the sweet treat and thanked her for it.)

And when he’s home…

The deal is that when he’s home, he gets to treat her like his. Climbs into her bed, grumbling about pillows being a poor substitute for him. Steps into her shower midway through, ducking his head so she can shampoo and condition his hair with her gentle hands. Dresses her in his clothes, in his dog tags. Always has a hand on her, even in her (their) home.

And he delights in yanking her into his lap - especially in public. When his team comes to visit (and they always do) he lounges with her on his thigh. He’s also kind of a dick. Like he’s courteous to servers (mainly female ones because chances are they won’t flirt with his girl) but pretty much any stranger talking to him or his Persephone is met with smarmy asshole behavior.

It’s to the point that she just fusses at him to let her talk to people. And he’s happy to do so, amused by the way she charms people. He only intervenes when someone is rude or a little too friendly with her. She’s had to break up bar fights before because god knows his men won’t try to stop their captain.

She is literally the only being in all of history that can tell him no and stop and he’ll listen regardless of the situation. She has to actively remind herself that it’s not healthy and she should not be a little flattered about it. And she’s not. (She is.)

[wszczebrzyszynie]

In older artworks Ryba seems so much edgier and so angsty and now… he’s like a cute puppy. I would love to know how Ryba has changed over the years, and how he’s different or similar from his older versions. I think you mentioned a few years ago that Ryba (as he is now) was a bad boy when he was younger, and I wanna know if that’s still true. If it is, how does he think of his past self and how did he go from edgelord to ray of sunshine?

Hmmm well i wouldnt exactly call Ryba... hm. I can feel this will be a long one. Hes one of my top 3 favourites so this was fun to elaborate on

Ryba is one of my older characters (7 years old now or so) so he has changed quite significantly and in ways i cant really explain. I probably just got bored with him being the problem child and made him nicer. Well either way yes in retrospective Ryba used to be very edgy and one of my main problem causing characters. He wasnt mean exactly as much as he was just uncaring and extremely selfish. Not worlds most insufferable teenage boy but definitely someone annoying. That problem child persona is still present in current Rybas childhood, which was mostly caused by grief and loss of his family and lack of attention and care that came with it. Ryba lost his parents when he was fairly young and was living with his more estranged family before later moving in with his grandma, with whom he lives since (and who he loves very much), and that period was very hard for him and shaped him as a person going forward. He started acting out durning that time and it progressed so much it just further isolated him from others; he was always a nice child if given the chance and some positive attention, but he did do a lot of stupid things for people to just see him

Ryba now is a very kind and friendly person, but that kindness is rooted somewhat in what other people would consider selfish needs; he needs to be liked, to be a friend and be worthy of others positive attention. Its his main life fuel; Ryba doesnt like dealing with his own problems, and prefers drowning himself in love to escape from them. Hes overly dependent on that feeling of love. Doesnt mean hes less kind or that hes somehow two faced, but that kindness doesnt come from a "morally pure" need to just be kind, and thats a very important aspect of Rybas personality.

Ryba has a lot going on in his head he doesnt know how to succesfully sort out; hes not stupid (even though he does act dumber than he is to make people laugh and appear more safe, friendler), but he has significant problems with sorting out his needs (both physical and emotional) energy and emotions, not helped by his extreme unwillingness to deal with it in a normal way or even just, talk to someone about it. Ryba is both an open and a closed book. Instead his own problem solving skill boils down to occasionally throwing things at the wall to see if they stick and never letting go if they do. Which is why he tends to contradict himself a lot; his tendency to pick fights with other boys is the same outlet for his emotions as being clingy and loving is. Its relatively easy for him to replace one with the other in the short term, as long as hes in the centre of attention and is being physically close to someone, even if in the long term his tendency to fight could be considered a form of self harm; its something that makes him feel awful right after, but he keeps doing it, because it does work for something. On the other hand, clingyness and whatever form of intimacy hes offered, tends to result more in him feeling like a freak (hence the "Ryba wouldnt be able to date someone who isnt as obsessive about him as he is" from one of my recent rybaposts came from; if he knows hes needed the same way he instead leans into the codependency as much as he can, even when he realizes hes getting "addicted" to a person; Ryba is surprisingly perceptive, especially when it comes to other people, he just doesnt want to deal with the baggage). In the similar way, his need to take care of others instead of himself is his way of making himself useful and having something else to focus on that isnt himself. Ryba is a character whose sanity is being held together by wax and spit

As for what he thinks about his younger self; if he had to be honest he just wishes there was someone for him at that time and after. Main theme of DNS is loneliness and while i wouldnt say modern Ryba is lonely, nor does he consider himself so (he may not talk about his issues to his friends, but they are still his friends nonetheless and he loves them a lot), that sudden childhood separation from people he should depend on and a period of loneliness that came with it is something that definitely did shape him in a significant way; kind of like a root of the problem that kept on growing even after the disaster has stopped, becoming something a bit more complex than in its infant state

[prapaiwife]

I'm back with another lita post😁, but this time on episode 13 cause I'm rewatching it, and im stunned each time with fortpeat performance in these heart-wrenching scenes. I mean, if you've watched, we've seen Sky's journey of allowing himself to trust and fully love pai allow himself to be happy be selfish and have this, which was the scariest thing to do cause of his past.

And peat wow🤧 his portrayal of Sky here, and later in the next scene when he goes to tell his story of what happened. It is the highlight of his acting! *makes me so excited for Love Sea* but Sky isn't crying. He looks so drained, and Prapai asks for him to cry, not to hold it in, but as he starts to cry himself, Sky asks him why. And then these lines!! If you can't cry, I'll cry for you. If you suffer, I will suffer with you, if your in pain, I'll be in pain too. Let me cry in your stead.

Pai is so emotional here, but he needs to have Sky see him like actually see him! He doesn't want to lose him again he isn't gonna leave him he wants to if anything be barrier for the pain he's feeling right now 😭😭😭😭Yet he's trying his best hold up but can't help but to cry

He doesn't want Sky to think this is something he has to face on his own, and what just happened won't make him change his mind. He's gonna listen and always encourage Sky to feel whatever it is he's feeling to him.

Which is so good cause in the special ep sky does that tho he feels already securee in his relationship with pai at this point of their relationship he says he knows how much pai loves him and knows his heart 🤧,he doesn't feel uncomfortable to express that discomfort of having his exes being around. And pai takes full responsibility for that and acknowledges it. He's sorry his past still is getting in the way of their relationship. And that's something sky shouldn't have have bear with constantly of his ex flings. Healthy communication at it's finest!!!

Even as back in ep 12 for sky to admit to himself that he actually loves pai as sad as it was to see sky break from this wall he was trying to keep up, a wall that protected him and told him that it was too good to be true and pai didnt really love him at all. But i think sky already knew he loved him and he lenaded into it but like i said seeing pai prove his point that made him retreat. But pai being there and reading all the things sky wrote about him making him see that this isnt really what you want and though u cant tell me yet how you really feel about me. It's okay cause I love you and you can too tell me you love me. like 😭😭😭😭😭

l'm probably rambling but like their relationship is just everything to me i can't put into words lol

[seaadc]

hello!!! if you’re up for this, can i request any genshin men with a reader who feels like a horrible person because of things they’ve done in the past? i have a guilt complex lmaoooooo (i say lmao but it’s agony) (PEOPLE IN THE CROWD WITH A GUILT COMPLEX PUT YOUR HANDS UPPPP)

also this is a complete side note but i think this concept would be especially interesting with wrio since he’s always in the fortress or meropide, seeing people who have done wrong everyday in the fairly normal system (by jail standards) they have down there

guilt | wriothesley x reader

OH GOD THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY ASKS FOR A WHILE NOW IM SO SORRY MY NOTIFS ARE ALWAYS FILLED UP AND I DONT SEE ASKS ANYMOREEE T-T

angst w fluff at the end, soft!wrio, he’s comforting youu, gets a bit suggestive at the end, no pronouns used but reader is referred to as ‘my love’ and ‘princess’

it’s nothing to be concerned about really, if you were a criminal and probably rotting in the fortress of meropide for— archons knows how long, you would’ve just let your conscience be the death of you.

but you aren’t! your not sitting around and laying in the fortress of doom meropide, thank the archons.

though you can’t help but think if the seven are laughing at you, quite literally. your state isn’t so stable as it seems..

wriothesley, your partner, had called sigewinne ages ago to check on your health status. although it was all negative, the tests, the results, the examinations, all negative.

there wasn’t anything wrong with you, so why is there an aching pain in your stomach whenever your brain just relapses back to the past, the time where you had done such unforgiving sins, you couldn’t even do a whole statement word for word on what you had done to those poor victims.

one of them, someone special to you. someone special that you had lost because of your own carelessness, someone you had lost because you were being selfish, someone who you wished to cherish for a lifetime— though fate is mocking you unfortunately.

and the pain, the inkling pain deep inside that you cant ignore, it’s annoying. it’s frustrating. it’s … sad.

it’s a pity to see someone like you, a nice person who only wished to improve themselves and hope for a better future. yet it seems celestia didn’t approve.

your longtime partner, wriothesley, had been worried for you. ever since you met, you were always dozing off, not focusing, you looked uncomfortable yet he couldn’t pinpoint what was actually wrong.

it was starting to piss him off, really. the way you doze off when he talks to you, when you two spend time together and your too busy in your own little world to pay attention to him.

wriothesley had decided to sit you down, like what any partner would do when they encounter a misunderstanding or a mishap. communication is key after all.

he couldn’t ever forget the look on your face, the day where you looked at him with such pitiful eyes and regretful ones while he just stared back at you with a stern look.

he feels pity, wriothesley feels pity. someone like him shouldn’t, so what is this he feels?

“tell me what’s been bugging you for months, [name].” wriothesley takes a deep breath, then exhales as you sat there, fidgeting with your fingers. “i didnt get the chance to ask you back then, since it was your privacy after all, hm?” he spoke firmly, his voice laced with curiosity and the tone where he just wants to know the truth.

just tell him, it wouldn’t be so hard. he’s your partner after all, you have every right to tell him so. “[name], i’m doing this to help you. you’re someone extremely precious to me and i can’t help myself just seeing you look so lost.” wriothesley explains, sighing deeply as he waits for your response.

how would he react? he’s the all mighty scary wriothesley after all. he’s known to have less mercy and sympathy on others. why tell? you’ll just embarrass yourself, you thought to yourself.

but you couldn’t. you couldn’t keep a secret, especially towards him. if he was any other people, a stranger, you would’ve kept it till the end of your life. but he’s not just a stranger.

he’s your partner, your loved one, your everything. wriothesley is someone you can trust, someone you care for. is it really worth keeping a secret from him?

you took a deep breath, letting the air get past your nostrils. “i have.. committed alot of unforgettable things in the past, someone like you wouldn’t like. someone like you wouldn’t appreciate.” you confessed, looking down and avoiding your beloved’s longing stare.

wriothesley looks at you, tilting his head in confusion. you? doing things that he couldn’t possibly imagine? “ever since i’ve started to open up a new path to walk on, the guilt in my chest still pains me. it’s almost eating me whole.” you continue.

he smiles at you, not a happy smile, a faint sad smile. he’s quite joyful about how you were guilty, and not like any other person who wouldnt even feel the slightest bit of empathy to what they’ve done wrong in the past.

this is the [name] he fell inlove with. the honest, confident, firm, one. there was no denying that wriothesley was hopelessly inlove with you. and he finds it lovingly amusing.

“if you regret it, then it’s okay. you don’t have to be in debt of a thing you regret on doing. if you truly feel guilt, then it just means your improving and want to be a better person my love.” he smiles, standing up and walking over to your seat, crouching before you as you were forced to look at him.

wriothesley holds your chin, going up to caress your cheeks coated with a red flush. “it may be your fault or not, but there will always be a way to fight back the sins of the past. you can get through it, i know you can.”

“your the strong and confident lady i love after all, hm?” he says with a grin, which makes your already flustered enough face go even more red.

you smile tenderly as he continues to caress your cheek, you leaned into his touch as you hear him chuckle lowly. wriothesley stands up straight, his hand now on your head as he ruffles your soft and silky hair.

wriothesley smirks, a teasing one. which means he’s probably going to say something just to tease you and to lighten up the mood a bit. “besides, i’m the only one who’s allowed to eat you whole, princess.”

made by @seaadc and @seaadc only !!

laughinf bc i made this at exactly 1am LMFAOO (i’m mentally unstable)

[moonchildstyles]

I would love to see something about prosecco harry going away for a little for a business trip and his pretty girl staying at his place waiting for him to come home! maybe something sexy with sexting while they're apart or even just something soft and domestic with her looking over the house while hes gone! whatever you come up with I'll love im sure!

wordcount: 10k+

—————

"You'll miss me, right?" 

"Of course, I will, pretty girl." 

Harry felt (Y/N)'s smile stretch as he nudged his nose against hers in a delicate puppy's kiss. Her cheeks were warm in his hands as he stood with her in the foyer, his bags packed and settled by the door in wait of him to leave for his early morning flight. 

"Even if I end up calling you in twenty minutes to help me get back to sleep?" 

"Especially then, sweetheart. Gonna wish I could turn right around and tuck you in." 

She always loved when he talked to her like that, the especially he always emphasized for her. 

(Y/N) puckered her lips and pressed a delicate kiss to his own through her smile, her fists tightening in his soft sweater where they laid on his shoulders. "You'll be back next Saturday, right?" 

"Mhm," he hummed, dotting another peck to her lips before pulling away and running his thumb over the same spot, "Another late flight, though. Don't think I'll land until two in the morning, so I won't be home until closer to three." 

"Okay," she sounded, still sounding just as dejected and pouty as she did when he told her about this trip, "Its still okay if I stay here while you're gone, right?" 

"Of course it is, pretty girl," he crooned, his smile going lopsided, "I need someone to watch over everything; make sure m'bed stays warm. Y'can do that for me, right?" 

Despite the sleepy set of her features, (Y/N) still gave him a sunshine-sweet smile as she nodded her head. 

Call him selfish, but Harry loved the idea of her waiting for him at home. Knowing she would be there for him the second he made the trek back, warm and sweet, was enough to have his heart pounding against his chest. Plus, he knew she would be safe and well taken care of here—the fridge was stocked with food he pre-prepared for her or easy things he knew she could accomplish, his place was closer to her school, and she could use his washer and dryer instead of going to the laundromat by her apartment. 

Rising to the tips of her toes, (Y/N) pressed a quiet kiss to the full of his smiling mouth. "Text me when you board and when you land, please.' 

"You know I will, pretty girl," he murmured, puckering his lips against hers before she could sneak away. "But, I don't want to get a single response from you, 'kay? Y'better be sleeping since y'woke up with me for this." 

She canted her head with a shy smile on her lips at his gentle scolding. "Okay, dad," she teased, "I'll go right to bed as soon as you leave, is that okay?" 

"Mhm," he hummed, a satisfied smile on his lips at her indulgence to him, "But I do want a text from you when y'wake up." 

"Deal," she cemented, hands on her shoulders as she pressed her lips to his one more time. "I love you." 

"I love you, too, pretty girl," he cooed, planting a handful of sweet kisses to her lips, "I'll be home soon." 

Mimicking his earlier actions, she nudged her nose against his in a tender puppy's kiss. Harry's goodbye to her lingered as he couldn't help but press a handful more kisses to her face as well as hug her as close to his chest as he could through layers of clothing. Several more promises to be home soon, that he loved her with all his heart, and missed her already before he finally detached himself from her and made the lonely walk to his car (it was only a handful of feet, he's just dramatic). 

The second he pulled away, Harry felt his phone buzz against his thigh. 

(Y/N)🎀

       call me when you can to put me back to bed pleaseeeee 

He didn't hesitate before he put his phone to his ear, the speaker ringing.

—————

Harry loosened his tie as the door to his hotel room clicked shut behind him, the lock mechanism tinkling a second after. He had a few hours to relax some before he would be needed at a dinner with some of the executives to go over how the day's meetings had gone. The thought of putting on his professional face for another couples of hours after today's never-ending list of client relations and marketing strategies was enough to have him sinking into his bed with exhaustion. The worst of it all? It was only day two. 

As much as he loved and was grateful for his promotion, he'd almost wished he was still in his previous position. He didn't have to worry about business trips back then. 

Instinctively, he reached for his phone he'd stowed away in the inside pocket of his jacket. He'd texted (Y/N) on and off throughout the day, mostly checking in on her and seeing how she was doing before offering a sentiment about how bored he was in-between meetings. Her thread was still up when he unlocked his phone, swiping through the photo of her he had set to his lockscreen. 

        I just finished with meetings for the day, but now I have to go to a business dinner in a couple of hours:/ Please save me.

Pressing send, he hoped his message would elicit some kind of laugh out of her. It felt odd using an emoticon in his message, but the little face showed exactly how he felt. 

Harry prepped himself for a couple of hours of relaxation while he waited for a response. He changed out of his suit, careful to hang his jacket up in the closet with his button down and slacks laying across the end of the bed. He'd change back into them before he left for dinner, but until then, he planned on napping in his boxers. 

By the time he was settled between the sheets, a quiet vibration rocked his phone where it was laid on the bedside table. 

(Y/N)🎀

        i totally would but you made a rule that im not allowed to even facetime you until i finish my american lit draft sooooooo ur on ur own :) 

Harry shook his head as he read over her text. For someone who went cross-eyed over a little bit of praise, she sure did love to be a brat at times. 

God, he missed her. 

        How's your project going, anyway? 

        And, watch the attitude, pretty girl. I thought you liked being my good girl.

Grabbing for one of the fluffy pillows he wasn't using, Harry tucked it between his arms, hugging it tightly to his bare chest. With an alarm set to alert him when he needed to start getting ready and out the door to meet the other executives, he allowed himself to get comfortable in his bed. If he pretended hard enough, positioning the pillow just right, it was like (Y/N) was still here. The only thing missing was the large crewneck of hers that she let him borrow while he was away, the softened fabric carrying her scent. But, he saved that for bedtime, so he could sleep with his nose buried in the neckline in hopes of inciting lovely dreams. 

Harry hadn't realized his eyes had closed until his phone buzzed in his hand, his eyelids shooting open. 

(Y/N) 🎀

        i have another couple of paragraphs to finish and then I need to double check my citations and everything but I should be done with it by tonight im so over it though I think my brain might be pudding at this point 

      i am your good girl im sorry:(((((( 

Her second message ticked up the corner of his lips. That's what he thought. 

         Take a break then, sweetheart. No use in pushing forward if you don't think you can give it your best. 

         Even if you're not done by the time its bedtime, I'll still let you FaceTime me. I know you've been working hard, so don't worry about that silly rule. 

It was a playful rule he'd put in place anyway, something to let her know that even though he wasn't physically with her, he was still looking out for her. Besides, he was selfish and he needed to see her face before he could fall asleep so far from home. 

(Y/N)🎀

         eeeek okay!! what time are you back from your dinner??? I'll try to finish before then but no matter what ill call you :)))) 

Harry would be forever grateful for the fact he'd spent so much time with her, that he could hear her voice in his head as he read her messages. Even the excessive punctuation had a noise—a hum, a squeal, or even a soft little gasp as she spoke faster than she could think. 

Messaging off the time he would, hopefully, be back at the hotel, he felt himself relax knowing that he was going to be ending his stressful day with a call from her. If he was lucky, his nap would spawn some dreams that he could fantasize about to get him through the stuffy dinner he had to sit through. 

If not, he'd just text her under the table.

—————

"What time do you have to be up in the morning?"

(Y/N) watched Harry sunk into the sheets of his hotel bed, white puffs of comforter framing his sleepy face. He'd just barely called her twenty minutes ago, and he was already minutes away from passing out for the night. 

"Mm, I think I have to be at breakfast by eight and then we have a conference at nine-thirty, so sometime before then." His voice was nothing more than a slurred mumble as he blinked sleepily at the screen. 

"You'll call me?" 

A slow spread of his lips turned into a tender smile complete with hooded eyes, a look (Y/N) couldn't help but get a screenshot of. "You know I will." 

"Thank you for still doing that," she smiled, fisting the emerald green sheet on his side of the bed that she was sleeping on, "I know you're busy, so its nice to still have those voicemails when I wake up." 

"They're jus' as much for me as they are for you, sweetheart," he got out just before he yawned, nose scrunched and mouth wide. Another moment she had to take a photo of, that she would have to terrorize him with the following day. 

"Yeah?" she asked, voice soft. 

"Mhm," he hummed with his eyes closed, that much closer to sleep, "Feels like 'm talking to y'even when I can't." 

At that, she felt a little bad knowing about the photo she had in her possession. She wasn't going to delete it, though. 

"Go to sleep, H. You don't have to stay on the phone with me, it's alright." 

"But—" 

"I promise its alright, really," she insisted, feeling guilty to be keeping him up knowing he had an early morning, "We can talk tomorrow, it's okay."

"You sure?" 

What a sweetheart he was, (Y/N) thought dreamily. His hair was a curling halo around his head, standing out starkly against the clean white of the linens dressing his bed, lips pink and puffed with his green eyes lidded heavily with sleep. While she would love to have this sight for the rest of the night, hear the heady rumble of his voice and the thick dredge of sleep making it that much rockier, she wasn't going to be the reason he had a hard day. From what she could tell, this trip was already draining enough, he deserved his sleep. 

"I'm sure, honey. I'll talk to you tomorrow." 

"Okay," he sighed, peeking his eyes open just enough, "Love you."

"I love you too, H. Sleep well." 

His features held a tender smile as they exchanged goodnights, his voice a quiet mumble as he repeated his love for her at least a handful of times after and laid it on thick with lazily blown kisses to the camera. Once the call ended, (Y/N) left with the thread of their messages she'd had up before his call came through. She already missed the sound of his voice. 

That was probably one of her favorite things about their nightly calls. Wrapped up in his sheets, his pillow tucked underneath her head, and his clothes adorning her body, his voice was the last thing missing to make her feel like he was right there with her. With her eyes closed on those calls, head to the pillow as he spoke to her, it was easy to imagine the curl of the comforter being his arms, the tight stretch of the sheets over her legs to be his own heavy ones tangled between, and the cushion of the pillow to be his bicep he usually offered for her to rest on. 

Sinking into the mattress, it wasn't the first time she felt that wave of missing him since he left. 

Though it always started innocently enough, wishing he was here or she was there with him, it was easy to land somewhere softer, warmer, and dreamier. She somehow always managed to call back to the night before he left, the hours they spent between these sheets and how sweetly he had murmured to her that this was how he was going to remember her while he was gone. He promised to remember her with glossy eyes, pouted lips, dewy skin and messy hair as he drove his hips between hers with heady slaps of skin filling the quiet of his room. He'd sucked delicate bruises into the skin of her chest, marking the swells of her breasts and even trailing down to the cage of her hip bones. They were the perfect, sore reminder of what she wouldn't be able to have again until he came home. 

(Y/N) didn't even think before she was maneuvering on his bed, turning to lay with her tummy against the mattress, face pressed into the pillow Harry favored when he slept. The fabric smelled perfectly of him—clean and warm—as she twisted over the mattress. A knot of the sheets formed between her thighs from the way she shimmed over the material, the bundle being just enough for her to rut into gently with spread legs. It wasn't enough to finish, not for a long shot, but it was enough to have her eyes rolling into her head with a shuddering breath racking her spine. 

Her imagination paired perfectly with her want for him, pretending it was his firm thigh and not the soft sheets between her legs, steady for her to grind into while he held her. She could pretend the pillow was the soft curve of his neck that she was burying her face into, his pulse under her lips with the full of his smell lingering in her system. Her chest expanded with a deep breath as she sucked in as much of his smell as she could, braless chest pressing into the mattress with her nipples catching on the creases of the sheets. 

But, it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough anymore to pretend he was with her, grinding down into his sheets with his smell tainting her brain. She needed him with her, even if only through the phone, to coach her through the rolls and sways of her hips, hear him tell her in real time how much he loved her and missed her and couldn't wait to hold her pretty body in his arms. 

With that, she settled herself down with a deep breath, grabbing for an extra pillow to wrap her arms around and pretend it was Harry. Hopefully he wouldn't be too tired tomorrow night for her, because she wasn't sure she could wait another four nights to have something more than bundled sheets between her thighs. 

—————

Rolling his neck, Harry glared up at the ceiling for the third time in the last ten minutes. This meeting was threatening to ruin his brain into mush if it dragged on any longer. This wasn't even his department, why did he have to be here? 

At the sound of another recap starting off, Harry did his best to hide the way he slid his phone out of his pocket under the table. His plan was to shoot off a text to (Y/N), asking her how her day was going, but he was pleasantly surprised to see a message already waiting for him on the screen. The preview seemed innocent enough, a small miss you being the most recent message with another containing a photo that had been reduced down to a tiny thumbnail. 

Swiping open the message, he expected to see a selfie of her pouting at the camera, exaggerated sadness marring her features. Those were the kind of photos she'd been sending him since he embarked on this trip (except for the one of himself yawning during their FaceTime she'd sent him, multiple times), always accompanied by a sappy text declaring she missed him too much and wouldn't be able to go on for whatever dramatic reason. Once the screen came to life, their messages materializing in a flick, his eyes widened for a moment.

Above her sweet claim of missing him, she sent him a photo of her in his bed.

It was sweet enough he figured, a shot of her from the chest up with her lips stretched into a soft smile. Her innocent features were the perfect opposition to the rest of the photo, the swells of her chest exposed with the help of a lavender colored bra, the lace delicate lace studded with crystals. The same marks he had sucked into her skin as his parting gift were now petite bruises dotting the ledge of her collarbones and touching at the tops of her breasts, the deep purple the perfect contrast to the lavender lace. From how well he knew her body, he could make out the shape of her nipples through the stitching, the buds peaking through he fabric. Even one of the straps to the top was sagging off her shoulder, just like he would have pushed it to be when he kissed over her neck, easing her into the sheets of his bed before he spread her legs. The dark bedding she laid upon was the perfect backdrop, inky like the night sky to make her the perfect star for his daydreams. 

And, she'd sent this in the middle of a meeting—one she knew he was in at the moment. 

Shifting in his seat, pants suddenly tighter than he remembered, Harry flicked his gaze upwards, feigning attention though he was itching to get back to more pressing matters. The other executives were nodding in and out of attention just as he was, only a few giving their all to the presentation. While Harry felt a bit bad for the poor group of fresh university graduates pitching their strategy, he didn't feel bad enough to lock his phone and glue his eyes to the front of the room. This wasn't even his department, so he was sure someone more well-versed in this side of the business would work with them. 

Dropping his eyes to his lap, (Y/N)'s photo still gently lighting up the screen, he typed out a response. While he was sure there was a clear direction she was trying to take with her messages, he wanted to ease into it, in case she really did just want to send a pretty picture of herself. 

     Not as much as I miss you, sweetheart. Looking so gorgeous it's making me sad I can't be there with you.  

He even did that thing she taught him, tapping and holding on her photo until an option to react to the message came up. He gave her a heart. 

Sitting with the thread open, he watched as the grey bubbles popped up, indicating her typing out a response he was getting more and more eager to read by the second. Harry felt his jaw tighten when the bubbles suddenly disappeared, leaving only the timestamp of when she read his text the only evidence she had been there. Now she was just being mean, playing with and teasing him. 

Until, another photo came through anyway.  

This one was cut off at her neck, leaving her pretty face out of it though he still could see stray strands of hair curling over her shoulders and grazing her collarbones. Her chest was still just barely cradled by the lavender bra she'd showed him, straps sagging down to middle of her biceps while her curved form was outline by his midnight sheets. Her tummy was soft and bare, the dips and curves highlighted by the soft light she'd illuminated his room with, an extra glimmer to her skin with the help of the flash from her phone. A matching pair of panties covered her modesty, surely adorned with matching  crystals just like the top, but Harry was much too distracted to really examine the piece. There was no way he was going to be able to find a handful of tiny sparkles when her hand was in her panties. 

The length of her arm, her shoulder shrugging into her form as if she were shuddering in pleasure, led down the waist of her underwear. Her hand disappeared under the fabric, leaving him to imagine the reach of her fingers prodding at her slit and the press of her palm to her clit, just as he learned she liked. 

The rest of her body was left just out of frame, leaving only a glimpse of her thighs, spread just for him and the camera she had positioned over her body. A moment later, a matching text came through.

(Y/N)🎀

      I think I miss you most:) 

With a clench of his fist, Harry didn't even think before he was clamoring away from the conference table, shoving back his chair. The newbies up front came to an abrupt stop, eyes wide, watching as Mr. Styles gave them a strained smile as he edged towards the door. 

"Excuse me," he tried his best at being polite for the moment, despite the disturbance he'd already made, "I need to use the restroom. I'll be back in a moment, don't worry about waiting for me." 

Slipping out into the quiet hallway, Harry took long strides to the bathroom he vaguely remembered seeing somewhere towards the end of the hall. He gave polite smiles to anyone he ran into in passing, but he was sure the curl was strained and unnatural. His pants were too tight at this point, and the collar of his shirt was beginning to suffocate him. 

The second he made it into the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief when he noticed the space was empty, stalls and all, Harry pulled his phone out. It took him much too long to swipe through his lock screen, fingers stilted from being clenched in his pockets the whole walk. His chest squeezed when he saw the photo still pulled up in the thread, jaw tight and thighs rigid, before tapping through to her contact. 

Pressing the option to call her was made on autopilot, Harry eyeing himself in the mirror when he brought his phone to his ear. His free hand curled around the ledge of the counter as he lent over the sink. He looked a lot more put together than he felt. His hair was still perfectly styled, only a single strand of hair having escaped the hold of the gel and curling over his forehead, his clothing still perfectly pressed and without a crease, skin with a healthy glow. The only give away was the red flush working its way out of the neckline of his button-up and the inky black of his blown pupils. 

"Hello?" (Y/N) chirped on the other side of the phone, sounding much too unbothered considering what he knew she was doing in his bed. 

"(Y/N)," he drawled, voice heavy as he sucked in a deep breath. Was she still wrapped up in his sheets with her hand down her panties, or had she pushed them down to wrap around her ankles? Was her face pressed into his pillow like he knew she liked when he was fucking her from behind? Were her eyes teary from her unrelenting touch, just like he'd taught her? 

"Harry," she mimicked, a tease to her tone he wasn't sure she'd earned in that moment. 

"What are you doing to me, pretty girl?" he asked her, the grilling question coming out on a sigh, his chin dropping to his chest. 

"Oh, with the pictures?" 

A lopsided smile tugged at the corner of his lips. This girl. "Yes, the pictures, sweetheart. What are y'thinking sending them knowing 'm in a meeting right now?" 

"I just missed you, that's all." Her smile was audible through the speaker, Harry easily able to imagine the way she was surely pressing the blunt of her teeth into the soft flesh with a flutter of her lashes. The same look she gave him when he fit himself between her thighs and she already couldn't get enough of him. 

"Missed me bad enough y'had to put your hand in your panties?" he pressed voice falling deeper as the picture flashed across his eyelids with every blink. 

Finally, he seemed to have found a crack in her facade as a beat passed before he heard her voice again. "I-I keep thinking about you, and how you promised to remember me before you left. I've been remembering you the same way." 

Tucking his bottom lip tightly between his teeth, he was brought back to the night before he left. His hips were fit perfectly against her own, his chest pressing heavily against her own as he panted words of affection over her skin all the while she was squeezing him with every thrust through her walls. He promised he'd think of her every night, remembering the way she'd been such a good, pretty girl for him. He'd remember the fact he had the best girl waiting for him to come home and fuck her again, he'd told her. 

With his cock twitching in his pants, Harry couldn't blame her for getting worked up at the memory. 

"I've been thinking about that too, pretty," he crooned, the scolding he'd been preparing to give her falling away, "Wish so bad I was with y'right now, you know that?" 

A quiet whine filtered through his ears. "Just come home. Tell them there's an emergency and you have to come home early. Have someone take notes for you or something."

"I wish I could, sweetheart," his words came out on an airy laugh. She was cute, that's for sure. "But, I can't. We only have a few more days, remember? Then, it'll be me and you in whatever cute little pictures you want to take in m'bed." 

"But, that's not now," she whimpered, sounding a little too spoiled. He couldn't even be upset, though, he decided. He took such good care of her, she rightfully had high standards of what she wanted and deserved. It was exactly what he'd been trying to teach her from the first moment he took her out.

"C'mon," he coaxed her, voice tender, "Be a good girl, yeah? Be my good girl and be patient for me. Only a few more days, and I promise I'll let y'spend that first night sucking me off as long as y'want." 

"Really?!" 

Now that had his cock throbbing and his heart fluttering in tandem. He'd never met anyone who loved having his prick in their mouth as much as she did, his sweet girl. He'd taught her once, and now it seemed she loved giving almost as much as he did. 

"Really, but you've got to be sweet for me the rest of the time 'm gone. No more pretty pictures when 'm supposed to be working, got it?" His voice was stern enough he almost believed himself; almost believed he didn't want to see any more of her body during the meeting. For the good of his job, though, he was going to have to put an end to it until he could be somewhere private to properly worship her. 

"What if I send you one more right now, while we're on the phone? Does that still count?" He could hear the hope in her voice, and he swore his heart was going to jump out of his chest. 

"One more, pretty girl, then I need to get back to work and you're going to wait for me." 

The chirp of excitement he heard on the other end was enough to pull a breathy laugh from his chest. The phone went quiet after that, leaving Harry to run wild with his imagination as he dug his fingertips into the underside of the bathroom counter. 

A long, long moment later, his phone buzzed against his ear just before (Y/N) rejoined the phonecall, out of breath. "It's kind of blurry, but I was trying to be fast. I hope you still like it." 

"'M sure its going to be gorgeous, love," he murmured absently as he pulled his phone from where it was pressed to the side of his face. 

Swiping his finger across the screen, he made his way back to the thread of messages that was all but burned into his head at this point, a new photo waiting for him. She was right, this one was blurry, but that didn't make it any less enticing. The angle gave a perfect view between her legs, underwear discarded somewhere out of frame, leaving her glistening slit to be displayed for the camera. Her perfectly manicured nails were in the shot, too, spreading herself open for him, the same way he always had her do when he found his way between her thighs. 

Harry took his time, committing the photo to memory, tracing over every inch of her skin she so generously offered to him. What he wouldn't have given to lay his cheek against the soft inside of her thigh, lazily drawing his fingers through her folds and nudging at her clit just perfectly to get her panting for him. There'd be no need for these photos if he could just be there with her like he wanted. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to feign an emergency...

"Pretty girl," he sighed, voice heavy as he tried to decipher if his heart really was beating that hard or if he had two separate beats going on, "You're going to kill me one of these days, you know that?" 

"You liked it?" she bubbled off, sounding a little too shy to be the same girl that'd sent a trio of dirty pictures to him in the middle of the day. 

"Loved it, sweetheart. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, jus' like I said." He could all but hear her keen laugh at the praise he laid on her, a bit of pride puffing his chest knowing he was making her happy. "But, I've got to get back to work now, yeah? Remember what we talked about, and be good for me, pretty. I promise I'll give y'a good reward for being so sweet." 

"Okay, H," she relented with a sigh, audibly deflating, "Miss you." 

"I miss you too," he crooned, softening some, "I'll talk to you as soon as 'm done here, though. I love you, so much." 

"Love you, too, honey." 

By the time his phone was securely stuffed back into his pocket and he was well on his way back to the conference room after his extended break, Harry couldn't help but start listing out possible emergencies that would earn him an early ticket back. 

—————

      Just got back to my hotel room. Are you still missing me, pretty girl?

It'd been a long few hours with her on his mind, resisting the urge to pull up her photos for the remainder of the meetings and conferences. She'd been pouty when he hung up the phone, the puff of her bottom lip audible even over the phone, making his heart ache almost as much as his cock to get back to her. But, he knew better than to try to excuse himself again or pull up her messages if he wanted to keep his head. Instead, he restricted himself to sit with his hands tightly clasped between his thighs, his mind stuck in the restroom where her voice echoed in his memory. 

The relief that flooded his system the second the day was dismissed was almost as satisfying as the palming he gave the bulge in his pants during one of the many, short bathroom breaks he snuck off to during those hours. He all but sprinted to the elevators as soon as his group returned to the hotel, tossing a wave over his shoulder after declining an invitation for drinks. 

Now, in the safety of his hotel room, he pulled up (Y/N)'s messages with no hesitation, typing out the first message they'd exchanged since their phone call. Her photos illuminated his screen, a bright spot in the dim hotel lighting as he shrugged off his suit jacket. The fabric became nothing more than a heap on the floor with his shucked off shoes thrown on top when her reply came through. 

(Y/N)🎀

     i haven't stopped missing u all day 

     ur alone now?

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he read over the bubbles. The idea of her missing him—thighs spread with her hand between all while wrapped in his sheets—had his stomach tightening underneath the blocks of muscle adorning his torso. He was going to have to bring her along to the next one of these trips, he decided as he sunk into the edge of his mattress, this was torture not being able to see her in person. 

     I am. 

     Have you been doing anything while you've been missing me, pretty girl? Anything like this morning?

Maybe he was beating around the bush, dancing around the fact they both knew she was playing with herself this morning and that was all he wanted to get back to now that he could give her his attention, but he didn't want to push her. If she was no longer in the mood, he would happily FaceTime her while she heated up her dinner before he'd take a long, cold shower after hanging up.     

(Y/N)🎀

     that's alllllllll ive been doing today

     I've been lonely waiting for you to finally text me:(    

He could hear the messages being relayed in her voice, the long drag of the syllables as she would have gazed up at him with that perfect pleading look: wide eyes with a flutter of her lashes and glossy lips. Falling back onto the bed, the mattress bounced under his back as sunk into it with fantasies threading together behind his eyelids. 

That pleading look of hers on her softened features, clad in that new set he wished he could see in person, all the while wrapped up in his sheets. Now that he was alone, he indulged in the idea of her laid out on her back for him while he stood at the end of the bed, her legs spread open just for him the same way she had for the last photo, hand between them over her core as slick sounds filled his bedroom from the way she played with herself. 

A hiss escaped Harry's lips at the thought, the vision a little too easy to conjure up as he brought his free hand down to press over the bulge filling out his pants. 

       I'm sorry, sweetheart, I didn't think today was going to run so long. 

      But, I'm here now. I can help you, if you still want me.

Her responses came through almost immediately 

(Y/N)🎀

     of course I still want you 

     please help me h:( ive held off all day for you :(

     u miss me too right?

If not for the thin walls separating his room from his colleagues on either side of him, Harry would have called her immediately. He wanted to hear the sweet whine to her voice when she told him she'd waited all day for him, holding off from finishing all because he couldn't be right there with her in that moment. He wanted to tell her that he missed her so much, that he missed her body and the glide of his hands over her form and the soft of her skin as she welcomed him. 

For now, he would have to settle with a palm pressing into his dick with his free hand tapping away at his phone. This would have to be enough.

    I miss you so much, sweetheart, it's driving me crazy. I've been thinking about you all day.

Hesitating for a moment, Harry flicked is hooded gaze down to where his hand was positioned over the lump of his cock. It took him another second before he chanced the tap of the camera icon on his messages, the application opening up with a view of the wall in front of him displayed on the screen. He felt a bit silly angling the camera just right to give (Y/N) a look of his tented pants and his hand cupping the bulge. 

As soon as the photo was snapped and sent through the chat, Harry noticed the way it was immediately viewed by (Y/N), timestamp added just beneath the frame. A moment passed, though no bubbles appeared to indicate she was typing back a response. He hoped he hadn't scared her away—maybe he should have asked first before sending it through. 

Just as he was poised to type out a quick apology, he was interrupted by the shudder of his phone. A new message received. 

(Y/N)🎀

       harry this isn't fair:(

      you cant do that when I cant even be with you

Biting back his smile as he read her messages, Harry felt his breathing stutter. What he wouldn't give to have her here with him. 

Shuffling up the bed, he cushioned himself with the fluffy pillows and the tufts of bedding as he got comfortable. Setting in his phone down in the white fabric, he took a moment to pull his button-down from it's tucked-in state before working his belt open from the waist of his pants. The button fly was next, making enough room for Harry to pull the two sides open and display the grey material of his boxers in the dim of his hotel room. He'd been hard for hours, aching to feel some kind of pressure while wishing he could relieve the tight confines of his trousers. A couple of wet spots dampened his boxers from the amount of times he had to adjust himself through out the day, every time he chanced a thought back to her or a moment to gaze at her photos for a split second. Even just the touch of his fingers moving his pants out of the way elicited a sigh from him. 

He wasn't going to last long. 

    I wish you were here, love. I'd take such good care of you, I promise. Especially since you've been so good for me today, waiting for me like I asked. 

His head sinking into the downy pillows, Harry felt the curls of his hair halo his face as his eyes fell shut. While his free hand gently palmed over his cock, he allowed his imagination to wander, to pretend (Y/N) was sat astride his thighs in her pretty lavender set with her hand in his boxers and her kiss on his neck. The glossy lip prints she always left on his skin without fail was always his favorite to look at in the mirror after. 

(Y/N)🎀

    what would you do if I was there? 

Her message was simple enough when he finally cracked his eyes open to steal a glance, but it was more than enough fuel to have his heart rocketing in his chest. Where to even start?

    Can I see you again? Just so I know what to imagine. 

    And, could I see your pretty face, too? If that's alright with you, sweetheart. 

No answering text was shot off in response, only another set of photos that had Harry's mouth going dry and his cock jumping under his hand. The first one was sweet, a bright smile on his girl's lips as she beamed to the camera, creases and lines decorating her face from the width of her grin. Where he would expect to see the purple bra covering her chest, she was bare with only her arm barred across the swells of her chest, covering her nipples and squishing her cleavage together. Only a bit of guilt followed him as he slipped his hand underneath the waistband of his boxers, his fist wrapping around his length as he gazed at his smiley girl. 

When he swiped to view the second one, Harry felt a throb in his cock. He didn't know how she managed to angle her phone just so on his bed, but she'd made the perfect view between her folded and spread legs as she sat up, her body on display up to the shy smile on her lips. She still had that tiny pair of panties covering her center, but there was a distinct wet patch that couldn't be ignored even with the low lighting she had illuminating his room. Her arm was no longer going across her chest, instead both of her hands were planted in the tufts of sheets cradling her body with her back arched and biceps pressing her bare breasts together. 

She had only his bedside lamp on, that much he could tell with the way the amber light glided over her form and touched at the highlights of her body and warmed the dips and curves that were touched by shadows. Her skin glimmered in the light, a sheen of sweat no doubt having accumulated as she laid around in his sheets with her hand between her legs for hours on end. 

 A heavy breath left Harry's lungs as he bucked up into his hand. 

     You're so gorgeous, sweetheart. You're going to kill me one of these days, I mean it. Can't handle all this. 

      You want to know what I'd do with you if you were with me right now, looking like that?

Her response seemed almost automatic.

(Y/N)🎀

      please 

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from his boxers, wanting to type the message out quickly for her. He had a feeling she needed this more than he did, especially with the knowledge that she'd been waiting for him for hours. His breathing grew heavy as he imagined every word he typed out, how tightly she would squeeze him, how the bottom half of his face would no doubt be covered in her slick after spending some tight between her legs, and the privilege he would have to kiss her through the heady thrusts of his hips he ached to give her. 

       I promised to reward you, right? That would be the first thing I'd do for you, sweetheart. Have you sit for me just like in your pretty picture, right over my face so I could take care of you just right. You'd like that too, right? I wish I could feel you all over my face, right now, pretty. I think that could make me cum all by itself. 

       But I know how much you like taking care of me too. I might cum just thinking about you being here, sitting on my lap and bouncing on my cock making all those pretty noises you know I love every time you take all of me inside. But, you'd have to stop and kiss me for a little just so I don't forget what those pretty noises taste like. 

The second he shot off the messages, Harry couldn't find it in him to hesitate before he had his boxers and trousers pushed to the mid his thighs and his shirt pushed up his chest. His cock bobbed heavily against the small of his stomach, a pearly coating shining on the head from the precum that had spread over the skin. His breathing was stunted as he fisted his length, passing his hand over the shaft in rough strokes that had his thighs clenching. The spiral in his stomach was much too tight to be safe this early in with taking care of (Y/N), the thought forcing his hand to slow over his prick. He needed to make sure she was happy and satisfied before he would follow. 

When he felt the buzz of his forgotten phone in his hand, he was expecting a response to his texts. Instead, he was greeted with a notification telling him of a video she had sent him, the prospect of what she could have filmed causing a flex in his biceps as he sucked in a breath. The walls were too thin for him to even attempt to let out the groan that was building in his chest. 

Swiping open the notification, their thread of messages was occupied by the blurry thumbnail of the video she'd sent him, Harry able to make out that it was her hand in frame, cradling the split between her thighs. Cautiously, he turned up the volume on his phone just enough before pressing play on the video. He hoped she'd been kind enough to record those pretty noises he'd texted her about. 

The video started with a view of her body from above, as if he were sitting between her legs and had the privilege of looking down at her. Her bare chest was heaving with breaths that were heavy enough he could hear them through the phone, nipples peaked. His attention was quickly stolen by her hand that ran over the soft of her tummy, the camera following it's path before it was revealed she had ditched her underwear. Her legs were spread wide open for him, bent at the knee just like he'd seen in the thumbnail before she slipped her hand over her glistening core. The dreamy sigh that she exhaled was perfectly complimented by the sound of her wetness spreading between her fingers. 

"Harry," she breathed out, back arching off the bed with a shuddering breath as she toyed with her budding clit. Every time she tried to say more, the words died on her tongue before they could become much more than a breathy sigh or a broken syllable, the swell of her breasts rippling with every sharp inhale. He knew she'd finally pushed a finger inside when everything stopped for a moment, her thighs wrapping around her own hand as she massaged her clit with her palm and the spongey spot inside he had introduced to her. "O-Oh my god, Harry, please." 

Every thrust of her finger elicited the sweetest noises, the same ones that played on a loop in his head during every shower he'd taken since this trip started. Breathy gasps and half-moans cycled through before he could tell she'd added another finger. Then, she graduated to stunted breathing and soft uh's that coincided with every stroke of her fingers through her walls, pressing firmly on the soft spot nestled inside. 

Just when she brought the camera closer to see just what she was doing between her legs, the video cut off. Almost five minutes of Harry's own personal porno. 

He couldn't stop himself from viewing it more than once, eyes falling closed as soon as the slick noises started between her legs. His hand on his cock was tight, fisting at the base every time he drew too close to the edge despite the fact he couldn't bring himself to stop touching all together. The only thing helping him abstain from reaching his orgasm too quickly, was knowing how close (Y/N) sounded in her video—she needed him to hold on a bit longer. 

      Sw eetheart, you're going to make me cum fuck 

     Uou know I love your noises, pretty, can't handle seeing you like that at the same time 

     fuck I wish I was with you right now I should be the one fingering your pretty pussy 

His hands were shaky as he typed out the string of texts, but he didn't bother with editing or reading anything over. Especially not when he turned the camera function on again, angling it down to catch the way he passed his fist over his length in heady strokes. 

Pressing record, Harry documented every thrust of his prick through his fist, every tight squeeze he gave to his base so she knew just how close he was to blowing it, and the clench of his muscles. As much as he wanted to moan for her, give her the same show and let her know just how much he was effected by her, he stifled it all down with the reminder of the hotel walls. he was restricted to sighs of her name and curses mumbled under his breath. Slick noises filled in the gaps with every blurt of precum that left his tip and streamed down to meet every pass of his hand. 

Sending the video off, he forced himself to slow his strokes, too aware of how easily it would be to let himself cum all over his hand and end the night early before he was sure his sweetheart was sated and happy. He waited as he saw she'd read the message, hopefully watching the video as the minutes passed. By the time it was approaching ten minutes since she'd said anything, Harry couldn't help the bit of pride that puffed his chest and had his eyes closing as he sunk into the mattress. 

He liked to think she was watching it more than once, keeping her from sending any other messages while her hands were busy. 

Harry only realized his eyes were still closed at the prospect when his phone buzzed in his hand, interrupting the lazy rhythm he was curating with his cock. 

(Y/N)🎀

       harry I m going to cum o my god 

      I watched ur vido like 4 times whatthe fuck

      m so close harry I wish you were here 

A smug curl of his lips took home on his features as he read over her texts. How she could be funny at a time like this, typos and all, made his chest hurt. God, he missed her, and not just because he wished he was pounding her into the mattress at the moment. 

     go ahead and cum for me sweetheart youve been so good for me today 

     keep fingering your pussy for me and cum 

     I wanna see it pretty girl 

The fact she was so close, especially when she didn't immediately respond after viewing his messages, had Harry working his fist over his length in rough strokes. His thumb traced over the head of his prick, drenching himself in his precum that he imagined was (Y/N)'s spit from the way she tended to get a little sloppy every time she got on his knees for him. As soon as he saw her—watched her finish with a video or even just a photo of her drenched fingers—he wasn't going to be able to hold back. 

His wish came through only a moment later, another video notification. 

His hand was shaky as he opened up the video and pressed play as soon as he could. The timestamp was much shorter than her last one, but Harry didn't expect himself to be disappointed with the way she immediately had the camera positioned just above where her hand was working between her legs, only her soft tummy, bent thighs and her hand between them in frame from how close she'd brought him. Her nosies were sweet and keening in the back, though they were muffled under the sound of her slick wetting her thrusting fingers. The real shining moment came when he saw the familiar clench of her thighs as she fought to keep them open, the muscles straining and shaking just before her hips bucked up with an arch to her back off camera. Her breathing was choked and stilted just before the sweetest whines of his name filtered through the speakers. Harry watched as she worked herself through her orgasm, rhythm sloppy and erratic, his cock throbbing in his hand as he ached to feel the clenching of her walls around his length. 

If it wasn't already overwhelming enough seeing such an intimate moment play out on his phone screen, Harry watched as she settled down with a deep breath. Just when he thought she would cut the scene, he got the perfect view of her pulling her fingers from inside, drenched in her sticky wetness that gleamed in the light. His mouth dropped open as he watched a particular string of her cum connecting the tip of her finger to her slit just before it bowed and broke the farther she moved away. 

It was then that it ended, leaving him with a thumbnail of her glittery fingers coated in her cum. 

Harry wished he had a working brain so he could text her something, anything to tell her how gorgeous she looked cumming for him and how well she did for him all day. He wanted to tell her how badly he wanted to be there with her, how he would clean her up so well and make sure she'd cum another two times before he would let her relax for the night. He wanted to tell her he loved her if nothing else, but that was cut short the second he didn't have it in himself to stop the stroking of his hand over his length. 

He was finishing just behind her a moment later, the vision of her cum-soaked fingers bright on his phone screen just before he shuttered his eyes. His moans were stifled in his chest though he couldn't help the quiet gasps that filled his hotel room once the spiral in his stomach had popped like confetti. He came in ribbons out of his cock, the streams shooting far enough he was left with stray streaks over his chest while the rest dripped down his length and decorated his hand. 

His thighs were tightly clenched, matching the set of his abs while he worked himself through the throes. The slick of his cum meshed with his aching gasps, emulating the wet sounds that he'd heard through his phone only moments ago. The noises managed to slow as he came down, his heavy breathing becoming the most prominent sound in the silent room. With a squeeze to the head, Harry felt himself sink into the bedding around him, his muscles deflating. As much as he wanted to lay with his lax limbs and closed eyes, recovering in the tufts of bedding around him, he had one more job for himself. 

Blinking his eyes open, he searched for the phone he had dropped at some point he didn't remember. Blindly reaching around, he found it by his hip, the messages with (Y/N) still pulled up. He made quick work pulling up the camera application one final time, taking a shot of his cum drenching his hand and softening length as well as the streaks that dotted across this chest, whiting out some lines of his butterfly tattoo. 

As soon as the photo was sent off, he retracted his hand from around his length, much too sensitive now that his brain was shifting back into place. Running his clean hand through his hair, he gazed up at the ceiling as a lazy smile touched his features. 

Taking his phone along with him, Harry made it to the bathroom, ready to clean himself off while he waited for a response from (Y/N). Just as he finished running pieces of tissue across his chest after washing his hands, a ping sounded from where he left his phone on the bathroom counter. 

(Y/N)🎀

      I've stared at that for 10 minutes and im so close to crying 

      I cant get horny again harry its not fair:(

He shook his head at her dramatics, an airy laugh exhaling from his lungs as he made his way to his luggage. Making quick work of dressing into comfortable clothes for the remainder of the evening, Harry settled back into his bed just before pressing his phone to his ear with a pending call. 

"Hello?" (Y/N) chirped, sounding decidedly drained compared to this morning. 

"How are you, gorgeous?" Harry asked her in greeted, a certain gravel to his tone. 

A sigh sounded on the other end, the rustle of his sheets fluttering in the background. "Cold."

"Cold?" A furrow pinched his brow. If Harry was being honest, he was hoping for something more along the lines of her being satisfied and maybe a little sleepy. 

"Yeah, I'm cold," she pressed, "This is usually when you hold me and tell me you love me and kiss me even if my face is messy. But, you're not here, so I have to pretend your pillow is you and that your clothes are enough to keep me warm." 

"Oh, sweetheart," he sighed with a laugh, running his hand through his hair, "I wish I was there, too. Definitely not enough to pretend you're with me with that sweater y'let me borrow. Gonna have to cuddle y'so hard when I get home, huh?" 

"Yeah, you've got to make this up to me," she pouted, but Harry could hear the smile in her voice. "But, maybe you can start by staying on the phone with me until I fall asleep?" 

"I can do that for you, pretty," he crooned, situating himself beneath the covers on his own bed. 

The sleepy sigh he heard on the other line had his heart almost bursting from how much love he felt in that moment. Sure, it wasn't the same not having her right there, hearing her voice in real time, but this wasn't so bad, he decided. He still got to tell her he loved her and put her to bed the same way he would if he were tucked around her body and not a hotel pillow. 

"Can you tell me about your meetings?" she asked, a slur already entering her voice, "I think that would put me to sleep really fast." 

A huffed laugh came from Harry's chest. 

"Anything y'want, sweetheart." 

—————

Stepping over the threshold of his front door, Harry was greeted by a quiet house. Though it was three in the morning, and he'd told her not to wait up for him, he had almost hoped she would have disobeyed him and stayed up. Nonetheless, he made quiet work of taking his shoes off by the door, his luggage taking a stop in the laundry room so he could get started on it tomorrow morning, doing everything as quick as possible so he could join his girl in bed. Just as he'd started the trek up the stairs, he heard her voice break through his quiet home. 

"Harry? Is that you?" 

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "'S me, sweetheart. What are y'doing up, hm?"

She didn't give any response as he made the turn towards his bedroom, finding the door cracked open just enough to left some light bleed through, a single lamplight lit. 

Pushing through, a teasing tone took his voice as he pressed, "I thought I told y'not to wait up fo—"

(Y/N) was wide awake, in the same pose as the picture he'd had to talk himself out of twice now from making it his lockscreen. Her legs were folded underneath her and spread with the light lavender fabric of her panties on display, crystals sparkling in the light. Her hands were fisted in the sheets of front of her, bringing an arch to her back with her arms pushing her lilac covered breasts together. A beaming smile covered her features, even if the curl was a little shy once he reached her eyes. 

"What's all this?" Harry asked as he stalked towards her, bottom lip stuck between his teeth.

Her response was too simple for the way it got his heart beating almost out of his chest. 

"Welcome home." 

—————

ahhhh!!! a little worried this is ooc for them but i hope everyone likes it! thank you sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any requests or ideas of your own please send them in!

[meibywabie]

Xie Lian isn’t a hero.

I started with TGCF first when I was introduced to danmei, and I was floored by what I read. It wasn’t just boys kissing in ancient china, it was actually about human tragedy and the selfishness of the omnipotent.

The theme of TGCF doesn’t revolve around XL alone. It’s much bigger than that. This isn’t a ‘TGCF is better’ post, but rather, TGCF is different. And it’s different because Xie Lian isn’t a typical human hero.

XL is not a heroic character like WWX, and he isn’t a sarcastic/comedic relief hero like SQQ. And it isn’t because of their personalities. XL is just as selfless as WWX and just as unreasonably punished as both other MC’s. However, when bad things happen to WWX, you know it’s because of his personality. Because of his kindness, his confidence, his wit. It’s simply BECAUSE it’s WWX as the protagonist.

Same with SVSSS. That story couldn’t have happened without Shen Yuan in SQQ’s body. Like we never would have gotten that level of sarcasm, pity, and empathy. And the novel tells you that repeatedly. Everything that happens in the previous two novels does so because of who the main character is.

But when things happen in TGCF, XL isn’t even the center of the conflict. It’s almost always someone else’s fault, someone else’s business, or someone else’s issue he just happens to be present for. But somehow, it always comes back to him. It’s always his job to resolve things.

Unlike WWX, the conflict isn’t his fault. WWX actively pushes the narrative with his actions. He drives the conflict and later becomes it. Whether he’s at fault or not is the point of his story, but for XL, he’s really just incredibly unlucky. He’s tragic in the sense that he’s just being fucked over by everyone in his life. For what? For being…wonderful!?

I absolutely love that his one little phrase pissed off the evil emperor of heaven. Like his mere existence is a problem.

It’s an incredible piece of writing that the things that get him into trouble are his altruism. Altruism that is fitting for someone who thinks himself a GOD. But also, altruism that many of us mortals share.

Why CANT he save his people if he’s a god? Why CANT he answer everyone’s prayers? Why is he not good enough or strong enough to resolve this conflict if he’s literally a GOD.

XL is constantly facing issues and asking questions that humanity itself has asked.

Why isn’t god answering me, why isn’t god helping me, why do we have a god at all? TGCF has a commentary that doesn’t limit itself to just XL and the type of person he is in the way that MDZS relies on WWX and SVSSS relies on SQQ.

Those novels are how most novels typically function. You choose a specific type of human and see the world through their eyes.

But XL isn’t human. Not in the way he acts nor in the way he tells this story. He tells you everything he witnesses and it barely affects him anymore. He just has some wise thoughts about what everything means.

But TGCF isn’t asking: what would happen if a kind prince ascended to godhood?

Instead—

TGCF begs the question:

What if you told the story of humanity, not through the eyes of a human, but through the eyes of god.

Xie Lian is god.

XL is 800yrs old, has lived through countless tragedies, celebrations, friendships, betrayals, and he ascends. Again.

He’s been stuck with the burden of immortality and now he’s re entering the place that gave him that burden. He walks into heaven to see new gods, but the same old problems. And the whole vibe he has in this is less benevolent and wonderful and more like a fed up mom who’s tired of seeing the girls fighting.

He sits back and watches these issues devolve and shuffles his way into the conflict by accident. Because he’s the only one competent enough to do anything about it.

XL doesnt react like a human being, at the start of the current timeline, he��s a god.

He’s an 800yr old god. He’s seen everything, learned everything.

We see this prince who thinks himself a god then become one. And instead of learning what it means to be a god so he can help the common man— he learns what it means to be a common man so he can become a real god.

XL goes through HELL. He loses countless times, is left, betrayed, ruined, trampled, destroyed. He is constantly being thwarted by not just people but the very gods he worshipped and the god he himself became. But again— XL isn’t even that big of a personality for us to cling to that alone and see how these things happened to him??

He isn’t boasting about how great he is out of pride and ego, he isn’t rampaging or going mad with power, he isn’t a huge character. But his lack of those qualities is what triggers Jun Wu to ruin him. He wants to see him go crazy, wants to see him struggle. Wants to see his ego and pride. And he’s not the only one!!!

Mu Qing is also incredibly jealous, so are the other gods!!! And Qi Rong, his own family!!! His parents even get upset with him for not doing enough. Everyone saw this kid blessed with so much and started wishing for him to break. And they succeed. He goes insane, he starts killing, he starts wanting to die, he starts losing faith.

But MAN it is just so gorgeous to me that this character is almost…forced to be a main character? Forced to suffer, forced to make mistakes, forced to be a problem. He is so powerful and smart and incredible and then he is made to believe he is nothing. Here is this god who has been forced to feel HUMAN.

And once he finally feels that way, once he finally falls to the ground and loses everything, someone comes by and offers his hat.

And that’s all it takes for a man to truly become a god.

TGCF asks what if you told a story through the eyes of god? It shows you this guy sighing through drama and fixing peoples problems.

And then it goes back and tells you: What makes a man, god?

And we read all of XL’s history. His victories and failures. And it perfectly describes how he’s ascended again. Not out of heroics this time. But out of his pure humanity.

God is a kind, gentle, but confident man who wanders around helping who he can and opening his doors to those who wish to come in. He resolves the conflicts he’s there for, and takes note of those he wasn’t there for. He trudges along holding no grudges and sighing when people make mistakes. He loves selflessly and holds no judgment. He feels strange letting people take care of him but he will take care of you. When he can, and when he has the chance, he will take care of you.

XL is almost born with every book definition of what a god is: kind, selfless, strong, and true. But his story forces him to learn how to be human instead. To fail, die, love, kill and suffer. And when that god was beaten and broken, he was saved by one thing. A human.

That’s how you become a god. And that’s what it means to be one. To be human. To be a good person.

XL couldn’t have been a WWX. He couldn’t have been a staple protagonist with a heart of gold, wit and passion. He couldn’t have had a story with everyone’s conflict directly tied to him and because of him. That isn’t what TGCF is for.

It isn’t about XL himself. It’s about god. It explores the selfishness that comes with immortality, and the selflessness that comes with mortality.

There are other aspects that make it a nice protag story. He falls in love, he’s kinda air headed and sassy. He did have the character and maturity to choose to become a wonderful godlike person but that’s a post for another day. But honestly, if this were a regular novel, it probably would’ve been about Hua Cheng. He lives for love and passion and devotion. He kills and saves and sacrifices, he denies godhood and wins the girl in the end. Now THATS a hero.

But XL isn’t a hero. He’s a god.

MXTX wrote a story that wasn’t about a sheepish prince who lost it all, but instead wrote a story about gods and humans. She wrote what reads like a Greek epic to me. With such hard comments on morality and cruelty. She really hit me with everything I love about literature. And yes I do love MDZS and SVSS but TGCF is different.

Like guoshi said: the gods are human, after all. But XL above them all, is most definitely a god.

[desceros]

Hatred. That has to be the emotion Leo is feeling, Right?

Leo looks to the Tupperware of cookies next to his bed. Against his better judgement he opens it and pops one of them into his mouth. Immediately the buttery delight of sweetness hits his tongue. Making him swoon, making him cringe. "Too sweet." Leo clenches his hands into fists and presses them into his face. She is taking Donnie away from him, She is touching and taking what should be his to do based on birthright alone. He was the one who taught Donnie how to speak again, was the one who sat at his twins bedside as Donnie shook and cried and begged to be put back in that fucking hellish ship. NOT HER. She wasn't fucking here for any of it. So why. Why did Donnie have to go and choose her over him. What comfort could be found in some girl that Leo or anyone else in the family couldn't already provide. Leo is practically doing this chick a favor by allowing her this close in the first place, and She goes and breaks down every barrier this family has like its an Olympic sport. Healing them all like its easy. Like being helped could have been this easy all along. He should be bitter, he should hate her, and be doing his best to shut her out. Steer her away from the wounds Leo has diligently spent the past decade trying the guard. So why.

Why cant he stop thinking about her. The way she smells, the way she smiles. Why cant he help but want her close where she can be warm and inviting and so, so bright, And kind, trusting. so, so trusting and willing to do anything to be apart of this family. Leo can see it in her eyes. The little glints of past heartbreak and trauma that make her so pliable. Hell, he is half convinced that if April hadn't been the one to find her first she might have joined the first cult she bumped into. So desperate for belonging she would listen and trust any shred of friendship that was thrown her way. So desperate for belonging in fact, that when Leo touches her she accepts it like its nothing. Because what would Leo have to hide, right? He's old reliable Leo, your bestfriend. Totally not the type of guy to rub one out to you while your in the shower. Leo feels himself tense and grow wet at the memory. How the smell of her swirling with the steam in the air had intoxicated him to the point of damn near insanity. He had to do something about it. His hand pressed inside himself as he did his best not to leave a trace of the deed behind. Shame and euphoria heating him from the inside out. God its pathetic, Its maddening. She's fucking and taking his brother from him and Leo cant fucking stop thinking about how she might taste. How she might sound as he sinks into her, Imaging how she might tighten around him as he takes her by the throat and squeezes. His hands painting her throat in pretty blue bruises. He wants to hurt her, He wants to claim her. He wants her. God, he wants her. He wants to hold her close and protect her like he has been protecting the rest of them, with barred teeth and selfishness. He wants to sent her as his and mean it. Fuck, maybe he already does. Maybe he has been this whole time and has just never realized. Every touch, every caress, every teasing remark and every coy little twist of the knife, has actually been him craving something sweet.

Idk what happened the song started playing and I blacked out and then when I woke up I realized I had sent this to your inbox. Symphony Leo save me save me Symphony Leo

ohhhh that hit the spot

[shadowbriar]

Regulus Black - Supermassive Black Hole VII

Pairing : Regulus Black x (she/her) Selwyn!Reader Word Count : 4.6k Warning : Mention of food. Nothing else I think, just pure frustration from these to dumb children. Synopsis : A simple arrangement turned into an everlasting one as two naïve children try to figure out their heart. Notes : If you'd like to be tagged for the next chapters, please comment or reblog so I can add you to the tag list. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ Taglist: strikethrough means I could not tag you. If I tag you by accident and would like to be removed, please let me know. @lostarc24 @hogwartshouse @milivanili99 @stelleduarte @40rimm @lilmaymayy @mischiefmanagers @happilyjollynacho @bl00dyr3gulus @lonelywitchv2 @burns-in-the-sun @lanaspepsicoke @rabluver @sofiacblair @jsjcue @coffeehurricanes @ell0ra-br3kk3r @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @kaz-mf-brekker @wokeupinaustralia @dreamalittledreamofthemarauders @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @thisrandombitch @greenapplegrass @lothiriel9 @bunny24sstuff @starsval

↞ Part VI

Sweet.

The first thing Regulus noticed when his senses were coming alive was a sweet scent. The smell of warm florals with a hint of vanilla was intoxicating him. He keeps his eyes shut, wanting to have his smelling sense heightened. The scent was alluring, comforting in ways his dizzy mind could not explain. All he knew is that he wanted to stay forever in such a state, filled with the sweet perfume he’s grown familiar with.

Warmth.

The next thing Regulus could feel is warmth. Like his body was wrapped in a blissful embrace, tight enough to wash away every wary that has been plaguing his mind. The comfort it brings slowly mends each of his aching bones. He dares not to move a single muscle, afraid that such fragile delight would evaporate once he does.

Regulus lets out a sharp sigh when he opens his eyes. She was there, eyes closed and looking so peaceful mere inches from his face. Her chest was rising and falling at a steady pace. He could feel her arm wrapped around his waist as his own hand rested above it. With this close proximity, Regulus could only hope that the quickening of his heartbeat would not be loud enough to wake her from slumber.

He tries to recall the events that lead them to such a blissful state but the alcohol was blocking big chunks of his memory. He could only remember bits from last night. When he decided to get himself hammered and cleared the Greengrass’ stock of alcohol. He wasn’t even sure how he got back home. Did Sirius help him to get here?

Home. Regulus winces at the realisation of how neglectful he was being. He should’ve been the one to watch over her. He should’ve been the one to make sure that she was safe. Those are the least of what a good husband, and the bare minimum he should show in front of Rosier’s prying eyes last night, yet he’s done the complete opposite of it. Exactly how worse of a man can he be?

But in his defence, the night went quite heavily for him. Sirius knew about his feelings for her and it only made the guilt even heavier now. His selfishness feels all too real now that another soul knows about his deceitful sentiment. Added to the fact that he found her talking to Rosier, smiling and laughing at whatever sweetness Rosier tries to indulge her with. It was practically impossible for Regulus not to see red.

Letting out a disappointed sigh, Regulus thinks of a way he could somehow fix the state he’s in. Perhaps he could offer to go to that theme park again and use it as a means of apology over his reckless behaviour. Their so called date to the theme park last time was ever so brilliant it might even be his pass of forgiveness from the impulsive kiss he did last night.

Regulus’ eyes travel to her lips as a smile blooms on his face. He kissed those lips last night. The lips that he’s been thinking about for years, the one he’s been yearning to kiss once again ever since their wedding, the very lips he’s desperate to taste again.

But given the circumstances, how he’s sure that his breath must smell like piss and the fact that he’s got a whole load of explanations to give her, Regulus knew better than to hope for such a pleasant gesture to reoccur. There's only so much damage he could do before he lost her for good and he would never dare to gamble with it.

Before he could peel his arm off of her, Regulus was stopped by the tightening of her embrace, “Unless you have to empty the inside of your stomach, you are to stay in your position, Regulus.”

Her eyes were closed still but her voice was clear and firm, as if she’s been awake for hours. Regulus couldn’t fight the heat forming on his cheeks. How he realises that she was not asleep during the minutes of him gawking into her face like the creep he is. He could only pray that her eyes were truly closed and that she didn’t see just how much desperation he has on his face whenever he gazes into her.

But then another thought dawned on him. Her arm was still encircling his waist, pulling him closer than before. Regulus dares not to ask nor make any commentary about it, fearing that the moment he brought it up she would retreat and push him away. The fact that she’s consciously willing to hold him this close is setting fire to every inch of his fibre.

“I reek of alcohol.” He manages to say.

“That you do,” She says, sighing as she opens her eyes “But you’re warm, so you’re not going anywhere unless I say so.”

Regulus stares at her eyes, wanting to be completely drowned into her gaze. His heart was racing, trying to keep his emotions packed and collected. He’s never been this close with her, never been this vulnerable and intimate. He could see every little detail of her face. Her beauty marks, her freckles, her features, everything. And as if it was ever possible, Regulus has found himself falling deeper in love with her.

“You’re looking at me weirdly,” She commented, her brows knitted “If you say anything remotely offensive about my morning state I will kick you off of the bed.”

Regulus smiles lightly, “I thought you said you like it that I’m warm.”

“I do,” She sighs, snuggling her face to his chest “That’s why after I kick you, I’ll ask you to come back to bed and hold me again.”

He was sure now that she could hear the rapid beating of his heart. It would be impossible for him to hide it with her closely tucked to his chest. Regulus has never felt more alive than now, feeling the jolts of electricity to jump up and down his spine. The smell of her shampoo was intoxicating. He couldn’t help but to pull her closer, burying his nose to her hair and letting his senses explode with her magnetism.

She whispers softly, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Regulus hums with a light nod “Yeah, this is okay.”

Regulus could feel her fingers drawing circles on his back, leaving invisible marks that he would kiss each night if possible. Everything feels surreal now. Like he was living all of the compiled pleasant dreams he’s had of her over the years. He sure knows not of what might trigger this, what he might drunkenly confess or do last night that made her welcome him with open arms, but he’s surely glad that it happened.

“Where did you go last night?” She asks, face still buried on his chest.

“I went looking for my parents and got sidetracked.”

“I can see that,” She says with a little chuckle “I’m offended you didn’t come and get me to join your little party.”

“Well you looked pretty comfortable with Evan.”

“Really, now?” She says with a raised brow, looking up to see his eyes with annoyed look.

“Do you like Evan?”

The expression on her face was telling for Regulus that he’s crossed a line he shouldn't thread with but his head was still heavy and the trace of alcohol left in his system does little to no help to keep his mouth shut. Better to do the worst damage possible now while he still has the alcohol as an excuse, he reckons.

She lays on her side now, resting her head on her arm as her elbow serves as support. She studies him, looking for any trace of jest on his face but there was only pure despair and agony that she wonders if she was reading him wrong.

“What is it with you and obsessing with me liking Evan?”

Regulus chuckles bitterly, “Believe me, knowing your answer would do the same damage as leaving me pondering for the truth.”

Her confusion only amplifies with his vague answer. Regulus still stares at her, begging for an answer. His hand now rests limp around her waist as if ready to retreat away if her answer wasn’t what he was hoping for.

“Does it matter what I feel for Evan?” She whispers, laying back down and pulling him closer “We’re married after all.”

She hoped that her answer would be enough to stomp whatever thoughts Regulus has in his mind. It doesn’t matter what she feels for Rosier, or whoever man in that matter, because truthfully speaking there has been no other man but him in her eyes. Shouldn’t the fact that they’ve exchanged vows for life be the only thing that matters now? She was his and his only, always.

But her assurance was lost in translation. Her answer only sounded as half a confession that she indeed had, or perhaps has, feelings for Rosier. And though she’s trying her best to ease his mind with her embrace, playing with the strands of hair that falls to his face, Regulus couldn’t seem to shake the underlying message he thinks she’s saying as it is engraved deep inside his brain now.

“I’m tired,” Regulus says instead, closing his eyes so he could stop the tears from escaping “Can I sleep for another hour?”

“Of course.”

“Will you stay?” He begs with a cracking voice “Please.”

There was a pause and Regulus struggled to keep his eyes closed, wanting to see what it is that she’s probably doing but before he could, he felt the bed shift as she lay back and rested her head to his chest, “I won’t go anywhere.”

—-

She could have sworn that it was just yesterday that she got off the Hogwarts Express and was escorted back home by one of her father's workers. It feels like it was just yesterday when she was forced to wear a wedding dress that isn’t really her taste and go down the aisle. It feels like it was just yesterday that Regulus kissed her at the altar, making her officially Mrs. Black.

Perhaps the fact that he’s been much warmer to her lately has made it seem as if time passes faster than it actually does.

Her sweet smile was blooming now as they walked down the busy alleyway of Diagon Alley. School starts in a few weeks and though they have pretty much all of their necessary kits for the upcoming semester, she knows that Regulus loves to visit the bookstores and get his hands on a couple of new books to bring to the castle.

“We don’t have to do this,” Regulus says, his face looking the least excited “I still have plenty of books I haven’t read that I could bring to Hogwarts.”

“I have some books I need to get for my potion class, this trip isn’t just for you.” She excuses, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers “You took Advanced Potion last semester, didn’t you? Any chance you could help me with my assignments?”

Regulus opens his mouth but before any words could leave his lips, he spotted Rosier and Crouch walking towards their direction, no doubt that they’re going to try and join them for whatever business they have here in Diagon Alley. So instead of answering her question, Regulus let go of her hold and shove his hand deep into his coat instead. Completely unaware of the hurt radiating from her eyes.

“Blacks!” Crouch greets excitedly “Fancy seeing you lovebirds.”

“Barty,” She says with half a smile “Evan.”

“There’s a long queue inside. I’ll get your books. You can wait here with Evan and Barty.”

“But—,”

Before she could give more words, Regulus already entered the bookstore and left the three of them alone outside. Sure the queue is long inside, it’s the start of a school semester after all, but it certainly is not enough of a reason to leave her alone with his friends, especially one who he’s been so worried about if she's having feelings for.

“Quite the gentleman, Regulus is,” Rosier mused, an impressed expression plastered on his face “Don’t you need to get the Divination book, Barty?”

Barty nods, excusing himself to get inside the busy bookstore and leaving her with Rosier. Once again completely unaware of the tension in the air.

Her eyes were still locked on the glass door, seeing the last spot she saw Regulus at before disappearing behind the shelves and crowd of people. Only twenty minutes ago was she certain that Regulus was opening up to her, returning the subtle affection she’s been trying to throw in his direction, but now she couldn’t help but to feel once again humiliated by her own expectations.

Regulus could switch from being the sweetest boy she could ever dream of to the coldest ice she’s ever touched in an instant. It’s like he has a switch in his head that he could flick whenever he pleases for whatever reason he deems worthy.

“Reckon they won’t come out for another half an hour,” Rosier says, trying to gain her attention “Fancy a cup of hot chocolate?”

“I’m fine waiting, thanks.”

Rosier pursed his lips, offering another suggestion that he’s not really excited to do, “Shall we go inside?”

She finally turns to face Rosier, seeing clearly that he desires not to enter the bookstore for whatever reason he might possess. A defeated sigh escapes her. Regulus’ act whenever it involves her and Rosier has been bizarre to say the least, but this would be the very first time he deliberately left the two alone. He’s always been the one trying to remove her from Rosier’s present, not to set the two together like this.

Hence for the sake of trying to understand Regulus’ motive, she shakes her head and forces a smile instead, “No, I’m good waiting here.”

A satisfied smile blooms on Rosier’s face, nodding in agreement.

There was a voice in the back of her head saying that she should just come in and look for Regulus, even when he might get all snappy at her for whatever twisted reason he has, but her feet were planted on the cobblestone. Perhaps it’s time for her to try and follow Regulus’ game instead of questioning each and every strange gesture he makes. Perhaps she could find the answer she’s looking for this way.

—-

“Excuse me,” A voice calls, making Regulus look down from the shelf he was scanning at “I was wondering where you got that Advanced Potion book from? I tried to pace around the Potion section but couldn’t find the one I needed.”

“Aquila,” He says in surprise before pointing at the direction where he got the said book from “It’s the third shelf from the Magical Creature section.”

The girl raised an eyebrow, “You know me?”

“I’m Regulus,” He says with a polite smile, offering his hand “Sirius’ brother.”

“Ah, right,” She accepts his hand with an even brighter smile “The grey eyes should’ve told me who you are.”

Regulus smiles once again.

“I didn’t know we needed that many potion books for the term.” She comments again, pointing at the stack of books on his hand.

“Oh, you don’t. You only need the ones Slughorn listed. I just took some reference books I thought might help for the course. I know they did wonders for me last semester.”

“Those aren’t for you?”

“No, these are for my..” Regulus gulps a little, a kaleidoscope of butterflies forming in his stomach “..wife.”

“Ah, Selwyn, right?” She muses “Where is she?”

“I told her to wait outside while I get the books. The store is crowded enough.”

An amused expression now visible on her, “Is your brother this romantic too?”

Romantic. Is that what he tried to do when he left her outside with Rosier? It certainly wasn’t what he had in mind when he entered the bookstore in a hurry, not wanting to spend another second witnessing Rosier yearning for her and what might possibly be the same sentiment she shares. The vague answer she gave a few days ago is still haunting him.

Regulus was already tormented enough knowing that he erased all possible chances of her being with someone better fitting than him, but he never really put much mind that that man might be Rosier. He has always been so convinced that Sirius was the one she has feelings for, that Sirius is the man she’s hoarding affections for, but now that Sirius told him that it wasn’t him, Regulus has to look back on all the interactions she and Rosier exchanged over the years.

Sure her laugh was never as loud as when she was with Sirius, but Rosier made her laugh still. She had no rejection when he pulled her for a hug that day of her birthday and she’s always been so worried about their ruined friendship, asking questions after questions about what happened between him and Rosier and in hindsight the chance that Rosier might actually be the person she fancies feels plausible now.

“Regulus?” Greengrass calls, placing a hand on his arm to snap him out of his thoughts “Are you alright?”

“Splendid,” He says with a smile, squeezing her hand a little in assurance “I should get going. I hope you find your books.”

Regulus walks himself to the cashier in a hurry, completely unaware of a pair of eyes watching the interaction that’s happened. If only he could get his head out of the knotted threads of worries, he would’ve seen the hurt from the eyes of the woman he loves.

—-

The trip back home was quiet. Too quiet for either of their liking but none dared to break the stillness. The questions running in each of their heads were too heavy, suffocating their lungs that it feels practically impossible to gasp for clean air. Each step away from Diagon Alley only fuels their near-to-implode heads with unanswered possibilities.

What did she talk about with Rosier?

What did he talk about with Greengrass?

Their hands were cold in the pocket of their coats. Fingertips itching to reach for each other but neither made a move. Afraid to be the only one craving for the other’s touch. Afraid to be the only one thirsty for the other’s affection. Afraid to be the only one in need of the other’s love.

“I just remembered,” Regulus finally says, stopping their pace on the side of the road “I need to get some quidditch equipment. My robe is torn from the last match.”

“I can come with you,” She offers “If you’d like.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll be just fine going alone.”

“Regulus,” She finally creaks, taking a hold of his arm before he could slip away once again “What’s going on?”

Regulus’ brows knit, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been trying to avoid me all day,” She reasoned, her disappointment bleeding through her words “Don’t think I didn’t notice. Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No! I— I just—,” Regulus runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated over things he couldn’t share “You did nothing wrong. I just— I just thought it would be too much of an effort for you to walk back to the shop when we’re already halfway home.”

Her eyes study him. There was honesty and vulnerability in his explanation but the creases on his forehead tells her that it wasn’t the full explanation he owes her. That something greater, more gruesome and complicated is still haunting him. It pains her to know that he still couldn’t be as nude with his thoughts with her, even after all the progress they’ve made so far, but she knew better than to push him. She could only hope that her patience would last longer than his stubbornness to keep things to himself.

“I want to come,” She says, this time with more insistence “If I did nothing wrong and you’re not avoiding me, then I see no reason for you to tell me to go home. I want to come.”

The corners of his lips turn upward, “I never said I wasn’t avoiding you.”

A flash of hurt tainting her face, “You really were avoiding me?”

“Yeah,” He jests, shrugging “You reek of cheap perfume. Did Barty rub himself all over you?”

“Piss off.”

She rolls her eyes, laughing slightly as she circles her hand around his left arm. Regulus smiles at the touch, feeling victorious somehow that she’s been more confident with their intimacy. If only he could let go of that treacherous pride and initiate more of their close affinity.

“How come you never joke about Evan the same way you joke about Barty?” She asks as they begin their walk back to Diagon Alley.

Regulus sighs, feeling the bliss of their close proximity to deter a little, “They have a different history with me. Barty never accused me of treachery.”

“I’m sorry,” She shows an apologetic smile “I hope you two can figure it out one day.”

“Highly doubt it,” He chuckles before letting go of her hand, only to rest his arm on her shoulder and place her hand to his waist “Couldn’t care less about it, either.”

“You always say that but make a huge deal out of me talking with Evan.”

“What, a husband can’t be jealous of a man talking to his wife now?”

Her cheeks turn rosy. Could that be it? Could all the anger Regulus show whenever she’s with Rosier stems from jealousy? Could he actually be jealous that she was talking to another man?

“Since when are you this much of a tease?” She asks instead, nudging on his rib “Who are you and what have you done to my reserved, tranquil husband?”

“Oh he’s around, don’t worry about him.”

She smiles, letting Regulus pull her closer by the shoulder.

Times like this, she wished she could put in a bottle to admire at night. Moments when Regulus would show her a side of himself she’s never seen before. The person in him that is playful, full of tease and is unafraid to return the affection she tries to shower him with. Salazar knows she’d kill to have this version of Regulus forever.

“What did you talk about? With Rosier when I was in the bookstore?” Regulus asks, trying to mask his jealousy with a casual tone this time “I saw Barty entering the shop not long after I entered. Must be some interesting topic to talk about to have you planted out there.”

“Nothing,” She says truthfully “Nothing important worth remembering.”

Regulus hums, forcing a smile though it’s obvious that he wasn’t satisfied with her answer.

“What did you talk about with Aquila?”

He raised an eyebrow, “You saw that?”

“Well, quite hard to ignore when you two were standing feet away from the gigantic window.” She says, this time being the jealous party of the two “What did she want?”

“She only wanted to know where to get the potion textbook from,” He explains “Just some questions about potion class. Nothing special.”

She hums this time.

She could feel that Regulus was telling the truth, that Greengrass was only asking him for the potion textbook, but the truth hurt her still. The sight of him smiling at her, the faint hint of rosiness on Greengrass’ cheeks, all of it burns in her head like a cursed image.

She tries to recall if they ever had such lovely interaction before. If Regulus ever looked into her eyes, let alone smiled at her, when they talked, but all she could gather was an empty void. They have never interacted as pleasantly before their marriage. Even now she still thinks that most of his tender gestures were of formality, to quiet down the wandering eyes and whispered questions of others that would see them. To know that he could have an organic delightful exchange with a woman he was supposed to marry haunts her.

“Regulus,” She calls again. Her eyes glued to the cobblestone, unable to meet his eyes “Do you remember that deal we made in the library? About our fake dating?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Does it still apply? With our current condition?” She questions with an uncertain tone “We agreed to call things off if either of us started to catch feelings. Is there any way to call things off now that we’re married?”

Regulus blinks, trying to digest her words with his best ability. His feet have stopped moving, making her to finally look up to him now. It was never easy for him to read through her, but her question now has unlocked a new level of confusion.

What could she possibly mean? Is she telling him that she’s starting to catch feelings for him? Shouldn’t that be a good thing for him to hear? But why would she follow her questions with finding a way out of their marriage? Is that what she truly wants?

“I.. I don’t know.” He says at last.

They stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments, trying to find the answers they both are looking for. If only they would just spill the words that have been trying to burst out of their lips, if only they would push aside their pride for a minute, if only they would just listen to the silent cry of each others’ yearn, they would’ve found their answers.

But they were just children. They were just two naive sixteen year olds who thought that they'd stripped each other off of their rights to find their true love. They were just lost souls hoping for the other to be their soulmate.

“Do you want it to be?” He whispers, fear and hesitation bleeding through him “Do you need a way out of this?”

Her heart was beating faster now. Does she want it? Does she need a way out of this marriage? No, the answer would certainly be no. But would she be able to bear the guilt of preventing him from meeting his true lover? Would she be able to forgive herself from stealing his happiness? To stop him from being with someone who could’ve been a better pair for him?

“I don’t know,” She answers “I just— Nevermind.”

She tries to have them continue their pace but Regulus is still stuck on the ground, feet seemingly melting into one with the cobblestone. His eyes were still vacant, looking as if he’s just got his soul sucked out of his body. It wasn’t a good look for others to see but her questions have taken him so off guard that he couldn’t even gather the power to collect himself.

“Is this about Evan?”

“What?” She asks, appalled at his question “Why does everything have to circle back to Evan?!”

“I don’t know, because we were talking about him and you suddenly asked me this!”

“We weren’t talking about him, we were talking about Aquila!”

“Yes, but we were talking about Evan first, weren’t we?!”

The answer was laid bare now for them. That he was distraught about Rosier while she was insecure of Aquila, but neither of them were listening. Neither of them wanted to stop and look around. Too busy trying to untangle each other’s cryptic words to realise that their closure was right before their eyes.

“You know what, forget I asked. Forget I even said anything, okay? Can we just move on from this?” She says with an exasperated sigh “We need to run before the shops close.”

Regulus clenches his jaw. Without a word, he begins to move his feet. The two of them now continue their walk back to Diagon Alley, once again in an uncomforting silence and an even wider distance than before.