#i drew this like. 2 months ago. enjoy

[automatonknight]

id: a watercolor drawing of callie from splatoon. she's shown facing the viewer, doing the squid sisters pose, with one leg sticking out slightly, one arm raised at chest level and the other into the air. she's smiling and winking. the background is white paper. end id

[favoure]

heyyy <3

[ind1c0lite]

LITERALLY one of my favourite designs rn shes so PRETTY

[fangswbenefits]

Obsession

Summary: Miguel tries to convince himself that his obsession with you was justified, but fails miserably as you spend the night over.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Inexperienced reader. Breeding kink. Sexual tension and frustration. Reader has nipple piercings.

Previous parts: 1 & 2 (you may enjoy this one separately, but might miss out on some context)

Miguel tried to convince himself that adding a mic to your digital suit was purely for safety purposes.

He really did try.

But he couldn’t keep from listening in when you first wore it on your way to the spider cafeteria.

He had just briefed a squad and was monitoring Nueva York through a multitude of hovering screens, as he stood on his platform.

Tapping quickly on the flickering surface, he was able to zoom in on you through the ceiling cameras.

You looked absolutely breathtaking.

The suit fit you like a glove and left little to the imagination. He was proud of his work. You deserved wearing something of his for everyone to see.

He saw you approaching a nearby table, taking a seat. In front of you were Jessica Drew and Peter B. Parker with Mayday who greeted you with warm smiles.

The sound of your voice echoed through the walls around him, as you extended your arms.

“Mayday! Baby! It’s so good to see you!”

The little girl broke into a giggle and began wriggling forward on Peter’s lap to reach you.

You promptly took her in your arms. “Did you miss me? Did you?” your voice was slight high-pitched and you wiggled your fingers, tickling her. “Oh, I have a present for her.”

“Really? That’s so nice of you,” Peter beamed.

“I don’t have it here, but I think she’ll love it,” you said, patting Mayday’s back lightly, earning a genuine hug from her.

Miguel felt his heart clench violently.

You were a natural with kids.

You were just too good to be true and he felt his hands clench tightly.

Would he ever be able to have you? To make you yearn for him? To breed you? To have children with you?

“Wait, is that a… digital suit?” Jessica’s voice cracked through the mic.

You had your back turned to him, so he couldn’t see your face, but he felt the warmth in your voice as you spoke, “It sure is!”

He groaned lowly.

There you were… his sweet girl.

“Who gave it to you?”

“Miguel,” you said with that tenderness he had grown to adore.

He could easily get addicted to you saying his name, and he could only hope that, one day, he might hear it a much more compelling setting.

“Miguel… O’Hara?”

You nodded.

From the screen he could see her exchanging looks with Peter.

“It looks really cool!” Peter smiled enthusiastically, inspecting your sleeves. “Wish he’d offer me one, too.”

Jessica chuckled. “Well, I’ve been here with him for months and he’s never given me one.”

Jessica…

It was to be expected. She was no fool. He had scouted her precisely because she was anything but that.

You had been recruited only three weeks ago, but the hold you had on him was tight. He had never felt this way before with someone else.

You straightened in your seat, as Mayday nibbled on your thumb. “Wait… do you think I should give it back?”

Miguel felt his heart jumpstart and panic build inside him.

“No — no! Jessica,” Perer shot her a glare who merely shrugged, before offering you a kind smile. “It looks great on you. Did you pick the colours?”

“Yes! I’m really happy with the final result,” you said, helping Mayday sit at the edge of the table, as you secured her with both hands. “It was his way of showing gratitute.”

Jessica snapped her fingers after taking a sip of her drink. “You’re helping him out with the portals, right?”

“We’re working on portal stabilisation and reduced motion sickness,” you said and he could almost taste the pride and passion in your voice. “We’re making some progress.”

Miguel had gotten used to the random erections you’d awake from him throughout the day. But this one felt particularly painful.

You were so smart and so devoted. He couldn’t even take credit for the progress, because it was mostly just you.

His sweet and clever girl.

He glanced down at the outline of his strained cock, clicking his tongue.

By the time his eyes settled on the monitor, Jessica had walked away momentarily and he saw Peter lean in.

“Hey… are you and Miguel… a thing?”

Miguel froze.

Mayday proceeded to wrap tiny fingers around some of his locks, tugging lightly.

He wish he could have seen your reaction.

“Oh! No! No… we’re just friends,” you quickly said, waving your hands rapidly. “He’s like a mentor to me, really.”

Anger flared inside him. A friend? A mentor? He knew deep down this made absolute sense, but it still made him seething with rage.

Peter didn’t seem all that convinced, but nodded. “Just wondering. He’s not usually this… kind?”

Miguel felt his fangs threaten to emerge as he gritted his teeth.

There had been nothing kind about him building you a suit. He hadn’t done it out of the goodness of his heart.

He wanted to claim you and this had been the easiest and safest way for now.

“Well, I know he’s a grumpy,” you chuckled with a shrug, as you patted Mayday on the back. “Maybe he’s changing?”

You wouldn’t want him to change. Not really. The level of devotion he had for you was unmatched and nothing you could ever have from someone else.

“Maybe you’re a good influence on him?” Peter concluded, tapping his chin. “As a friend, of course.”

“Peter….” he growled lowly.

“As a friend,” you nodded. “Besides, there’s…” but your voice trailed off.

His erection nearly immediately deflated as dread took over.

There’s what?

He turned up the mic’s volume, but winced instead, as you banged on the table.

You cleared your throat. “Well, gotta go! I have work to do.”

Peter took Mayday back into his lap and chuckled. “Don’t forget her present!”

“I won’t! Wish me luck, though,” you said, crossing your fingers as you started to walk away. “I really need these chips to stop blowing and melting on me!”

“Good luck! Say bye bye, Mayday,” Peter waved his hand, which the little girl promptly mimicked with a giggle.

“Bye, baby!” you beamed.

Miguel had had enough.

He switched off your mic with a tap on his watch.

He really had tried to convince himself that his obsession for you was justified. That is was rooted in more than lust and desire, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

After you moved to Nueva York, he had you working closely to him on portal stabilisation.

But what had started out as something innocent, soon shifted into something else entirely.

Your company brought him peace and quiet, and ticket his brain just the right way to keep him motivated.

Until it didn’t.

Until you became his torment.

He had let you in his life in the hopes that you let him in yours.

The first time you gave him a boner was when he walked in on you in the lab, wearing nothing but a tank top and a pencil pressed firmly in between your lips, as you moved from screen to screen to check on the update progress.

The worst part? You didn’t even notice how utterly delicious you looked and how he could easily bend you over and take you right there.

No.

You just offered him a sweet smile.

One he hadn’t recovered from ever since.

“Miguel?”

He jolted as the voice snapped him from his torturous thoughts. “What?”

Lyla hovered nearby, eyeing him closely. “Fangs out,” she wiggled her index finger disapprovingly. “Pavitr and Hobie are waiting for you.”

His fangs retracted slowly as he tried to gain his composure back. “Why?”

“Mission?” she quirked an eyebrow.

Right.

“Now?”

“You’re already late.”

He growled, tapping on a few screens hurriedly.

“Oh, and Miguel?”

“What?”

The hologram popped near the screen to his left. “You might want to be more subtle when using her in-suit mic.”

He gave her narrow side-glace. “What do you mean?”

“Just saying,” she said, adjusting her heart-shapped glasses. “You’re not the only tech savvy spider here.”

The door to his apartment swung open at once, and he stepped inside ready to decompress from the tiresome mission.

He had made plans with some of your audio recordings and his hand, hoping that would be enough to easy the pent-up tension that had been looming over year throughout the way.

It was a less than ideal situation, but would have to do for now.

That was until he noticed his living room was lit.

Pacing rapidly he was met with you.

In the middle of a pile of papers and electronic components scattered around the floor, he saw you sitting cross-legged with a pencil danging from your lips, his digital suit clinging tightly to your body.

“What are you doing here?”

Your bead snapped in his direction and the pencil tumbled to the floor. “Miguel! Lyla let me in.”

He was rooted in place.

Had it been someone else, he would have flung them through the window with no warning.

But you weren’t just someone.

And Lyla wouldn’t have let someone else enter his apartment, either.

“It’s quite late,” he said, pacing carefully toward you as not to step on anything. “You could have called me.”

You waved a hand dismissively and held a circular metallic object in the other. “Catch!”

Before he could say anything back, you had tossed it in his direction, which he quickly grabbed in between his fingers.

“Found what was wrong with it,” you smiled proudly. “It was stupid of me, really. There wasn’t any thermal paste in it. That’s why it kept blowing up.”

Miguel stared at the chip in his hand and blinked a few times.

“I assumed you were using it from the start,” he said, inspecting the cross section.

You rose to your feet in an instant and joined his site, excitement spilling from you. “These ion batteries should not require thermal paste — not for this amount of energy, at least. But yeah… my bad,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

Miguel locked eyes with yours and felt a familiar tingle in his body.

Fuck.

You were just so ridiculously attractive, and he wish he could hear you ramble about tech and science for hours.

“This is really, really good news,” he said genuinely, handing the chip back to you.

He squeezed your arm lightly as encouragement, knowing fully well he should be rewarding you in other ways.

His sweet girl…

You darted back to the floor, gathering some papers. “Sorry for the mess. I just had to figure this out and couldn’t sleep.”

A scientist at heart, you were.

Blood began to rush to his groin in no time. It couldn’t be helped. His body had been so on edge to finally fuck you, that it was in this permanent state of arousal around you.

“It’s fine. I still have those moments,” he said softly, crouching to help you out. “Sometimes I can’t sleep, and I have to do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I either go to the lab, or…” I jerk off to the thought of being buried deep inside you, he wanted to say.

You eyed him expectantly, biting your lip lightly, further hardening his cock.

“Well, it’s a bit late,” Miguel eventually said, standing tall. “Maybe you should get back to your apartment?”

He hated himself for even suggesting such option, but he didn’t want to push his luck. You being here would be fuel enough for the rest of the night as he fucked his hand.

“Oh, you just got back from a mission,” you fought back a yawn, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “I’ll just leave.”

Miguel nodded, but was crumbling inside.

Your face lit up again. “But this was great, right?”

Please stay.

“You did great,” he said with a short smile. “Go get some rest.”

Please…

You made your way down the hall and waved at him. “See you in the morning, Miguel.”

He should have let you go.

But something took over him, before he could fight it back.

“Actually, you could stay. It’s nearly four in the morning,” he tried to sound as casual as possible, but the excitement was hard to contain. “And we have to head back to the lab early.”

You turned around and he stopped breathing.

Too much?

Then he the backpack slide down your arm, hittingbthe floor with a thud. “Oh, thank you! I really didn’t feel like swinging back to my apartment,” you voice held pure gratitude and he felt his ego soar. “Only… I don’t have any clothes.”

He shook his head as realisation hit him. “Right. Wait here.”

“Okay~”

Bolting into his room, he went through his closet, fetching a shirt and a robe.

But before heading out, he decided to change into some sweatpants and a shirt himself.

His erection welcomed the looser material, and he’d be able to better conceal it from you.

Taking a final look at his cock, Miguel decided to give it a few pumps as if trying to calm it down.

He couldn’t believe his luck.

He couldn’t believe his sweet girl would be so close to him in his clothes and apartment.

And bed.

As he exited the room and handed the clothes to you, he cleared his throat. “You can take my bed.”

You looked up at him. “Oh… no, Miguel. You just came back from a mission.”

“I’m not that tired. Just take it.”

Please.

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Anything that was his was yours. He would give it all to you.

“Be right back,” you said, before disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

He immediately sighed in relief, adjusting his cock, feeling the first beads of precum spill from the tip.

How was he to survive this?

Not long after, you emerged again.

He glanced over at the length of you, taking in the sight of his shirt and robe on you. Your legs were still covered with the digital suit, but you looked absolutely ready to be devoured.

But he couldn’t do it.

Not yet.

His cock twitched in his pants, yearning to be inside you.

Then something else caught his attention when his moved up your body.

It couldn’t be…

Two symmetrical protuberances poked through the fabric of your shirt — his shirt.

“Are those…” his voice faltered momentarily, not trusting his own eyes.

You followd his line of sight and giggled. “Oh! Yeah. Got them pierced way back. Wanted to defy my dad and got them out of spite,” you went on, adjusting the fabric of the shirt under the robe. “But eventually kept them. They look cute.”

Cute?

Miguel was at a loss for words.

Your voice mixed with your carefree posture sent jolts directly into his cock.

“I…” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I didn’t notice them before,” he said, feeling his mouth run dry.

“I was wearing a bra,” you replied with a shrug and a tender smile.

This was almost comically painful.

You were the closest thing he had ever known to innocence as of late. Yet here you stood, wearing just his shirt, no bra, and with your pierced nipples poking through his shirt.

But none of that seemed to matter to you.

You were completely oblivious of how painfully hard he was for you.

“Did it hurt?”

“Terribly,” you said, still glacing down at your breasts and hardened nipples. “But I think it’s worth it.”

The adorable way in which you said it was almost driving him insane.

Just how innocent could one person be…

Before he could even process his thoughts, he spoke, “Can I…”

Your eyes met his and Miguel feared he had now fucked it up for good.

Brilliant, Miguel…

“Oh, you mean… you want to see them?”

Should he back down and just deny his intentions?

“You’ve never seen nipple piercings before?”

He shook his head.

Just as he was about to tell you to forget it, you lifted his shirt, revealing your breasts to him.

He nearly exploded right there and then.

“Oh, please!” she giggled. “We’re people of science, and you haven’t seen this before. Science is all about curiosity and discovery.”

Miguel, however, wasn’t listening to any of that and felt as though he was hypnotised. He could tear his eyes away from your perky nipples and the metal rods that went through them, a tiny spider danging from each of them.

He wasn’t sure when or how he had got so close to you, but he lifted his hand to touch one.

His cock twitched violently and he felt his mind hazy with lust.

“They’re cool, right?” you beamed, allowing him to swipe the pad of his thumb across the tiny spider.

“Yeah.”

Really ‘cool’.

More precum dripped from his tip and had to fight back his fangs from slipping out.

He wanted to bend over and dart his tongue out to play with them. He wanted to tug on them and wanted you to arch your back with a soft moan.

You pulled down the shirt again and he flinched his hand back instantly, swallowing hard.

“So… if — when you have a baby and want to breastfeed… will there be an issue?”

Of course his need to breed you had to surface at the worst possible time.

But he had to know. He needed to know if that would be a nuisance. He couldn’t take any risks and he wanted you completely ready to carry his children.

You shrugged, adjusting the robe around you. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead when I got them, but I suppose I just have to take them out.”

He nodded, taking a few steps back.

You stretched out with a yawn. “Mind if I go to sleep now?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

You were about to whirl on your feet, but decided against it. “How do you say ‘thank you’ in Spanish?”

That caught him off guard and his eyes widened. “Gracias.”

Then you gave him the sweetest smile. “Gracias, Miguel.

He could cum just from this alone.

How he would teach you the filthiest things in Spanish… how he would whisper them in your ear, knowing fully well you couldn’t understand a word…

You then slipped into his room and closed the door.

He ran both hands through his hair, wanting to let out a scream.

The things he wanted to do to you…

The things you deserved done to you…

He brought one hand down to tug at his waistband, revealing his soaked cock.

Then he bit the back of his other hand.

Hard.

He didn’t even care if he drew blood.

He couldn’t take this anymore.

Engulfed with overwhelming frustration, he pressed his forehead against the tall window that overlooked Nueva York.

He had to calm down, or else he’d have to synthesise a serum to lower his levels of testosterone…

He had to find a way to stop.

As minutes ticked by, he decided to check your bio readings on his watch. Your heart rate had lowered significantly, indicating him you were now asleep.

The predator in him took control again and he paced towards his bedroom, opening the door just enough to check on you.

Fast asleep.

He walked in with careful steps, finally taking in the sight of you on his bed.

The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed for the faintest moonlight to be cast on you.

He felt his heart was about to implode as he drew near, slowly sitting by the edge of the mattress.

You lay on your back, breathing evenly and covered up to your waist with a blanket.

Miguel took a deep and shaky breath.

You smelled of him and his bedsheets smelled of you.

Such a powerful and dangerous combination, that he almost considered gripping his cock.

Bur decided against it.

Instead, he say there, staring at you, absorbing every single detail of your body.

His hand twitched as an itch took over it.

An itch he had to scratch.

He reached out to graze the back of one finger along your forearm, feeling your warmth coating his skin.

His sweet girl…

His imagination ran wild and he had hoped he could have fucked you to sleep, not sliding out of you, making sure you’d take his seed.

Pain swallowed him whole as despair settled.

What if he never managed to make you his?

What if you decided you wanted nothing more than a friendship?

How could he cope?

Suddenly, you flinched and rolled to your side and heaved a deep sigh. “Oh, Tom…”

Miguel was left petrified and his blood ran cold.

Who the fuck was Tom?

Part 4

Masterlist

[chewingcyanide]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — secrets are best kept buried, just like your tangled relationship with your best friend’s older brother.

₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — unrequited love ( that heart wrenching shit ), cursing? weird mentions and descriptions of blood, cursing ( lots of it ), yelling / arguing ( LOTS of it ), heavy angst with a dash of laughter, kind of OMC x reader but not too much, jealousy, kinda possessiveness ( from jack… had to do it ), emotional distress and all that good stuff

₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — jack hughes x f!reader , OMC x f!reader (briefly), best friend!luke hughes x f!reader

₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — i’ve returned from a million year hiatus with this BIG BITCH and i’m sorry for it. may write a pt. 2 w a happy ending bc i’m a slut for them. anyway, enjoy! request if you’d like. love you guys.

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You had existed within the world of Jack Hughes since your freshman year of high school.

Existed. Not an integral part, nor a spoke on the wheel of many friends he already had. Truthfully, you were only acquainted with him because of his younger brother, Luke; your freshman biology lab partner, and eventual best friend. Years had passed since you first met Luke—no longer were you the wide-eyed fifteen-year-old crossing the threshold from child to near-adult. Now, you were an adult. Twenty, with two more years of college stretched out before you, seemingly everything had changed.

Well, except for the lead weight chained to your ankle—the fundamental and inexorable truth that you were still in love with Jack Hughes.

It started as most consuming things do: a small idea, watered by brief looks, a brush of heated fingertips against your hand, or arm, or waist—or anywhere, really. A head rush that sent you meters under waves of excitement and anticipation. Loving Jack was like having a fever that never broke; it persisted, a dull ache that squeezed your skull each time he was near. Even now, five years later, the flashing of blue eyes—never brimmed with what you knew was embarrassingly reflected in your own—was enough to make sweat bead at your palms.

It never grew into more than a hope, a wishful desire. But wishing seldom got anyone anywhere, and it surely hadn’t helped you. When the months turned warm and spring faded into summer, the overwhelming ache of freedom that came with warm weather and the end of the hockey season drew Luke and his brothers to Sanibel—a beach so wrought with memories of youth and foolish memories that the idea of going another year made dread settle like steel in your bones. They’d bought it after a vacation there a few years ago, and the rest was history.

But, of course, Luke—the youngest of three—never took no for an answer.

“You can’t miss this year,” he had insisted. The Devils had their hopes cut short once more—this time in an second round exit to Carolina. Ergo, the expected departure time had been bumped up significantly. Vancouver had missed the playoffs altogether.

You stood silent, tearing away skin from your nail-beds as Luke leaned against the kitchen counter. The cold metal of the fridge pressing into the bare strip of skin on your back was the only thing keeping you present in the conversation.

You hated how Luke did this—he’d take your silence over text as an invitation to barge his way into your apartment, destroying the barrier of safety and excuses a phone provided, and ask you face-to-face. And how could you say no? You never had before, and look where that got you. No closer to removing hooks branded with the name Jack from your heart.

“Luke…” you sighed, only dropping your hands when blood bubbled to the surface of your torn skin. Pain rippled down your fingertips, but you ignored it. The dread that quickened your pacing heart was too overwhelming a sensation. “I don’t know—maybe I should—”

“Skip out?” Luke rounded the kitchen counter and came to stand in front of you. “No way, Bells. You have to come. Otherwise I’ll be alone all summer.”

You could have scoffed if you cared more. Bells. That dumb nickname Jack had given you years ago—according to him, it was because you were such a silent walker, you required a bell to be heard. Aside from the embarrassment you got from being called a childhood nickname even now, it reminded you that your existence was always going to be tied to Jack. A piece of him carried with you, a cage keeping your heart from beating without him; the bright red ribbon tied around your wrist that screamed I Love Jack Hughes!

No matter what, it would always be him. You tried; God, did you try. Hearing stories of his hookups, the life of a single, superstar hockey player should have been enough to send your stupid childhood crush to its grave, but as if cursed by a necromancer, the mere mention of Jack brought it right back to life. It was a cruel cycle that just wouldn’t end. And you knew going to that damned beach house would only prolong the life of the indestructible feeling more.

Jack was tarnished jewelry, rubbing your skin green and raw and wrong, and yet—you could never seem to take it off, even when it made you look foolish.

Silence fell like thick fog. Luke’s eyes roved along your face, as if trying to read a book with the letters smudged. “C’mon, Bells. You have fun every year, and I don’t want to have a summer without you.”

“Jack and Quinn will be there,” you said, voice low. Pathetic anxiety swelled in your chest like the forecast of a hurricane. Even saying his name tightened your veins. “Trevor, Alex, and Cole, too—I don’t need to go, Luke. Won’t it be weird?”

An unamused look graced Luke’s face. “You go with us every year. Why would it be different now?”

You wanted to curse Luke for being so persistent. Part of you wished you could just scream that you loved his brother, but couldn’t. You never could. Loving Jack ensured you lost someone—Luke, who would never get over the thought of you potentially sleeping with Jack; and well, if that failed, you also fully lost Jack. Unrequited love confessions made fools of ghosts.

To Jack, you were a ghost. Haunting his life, disrupting some times, but never there long enough to be seen. And even if he did, he convinced himself you weren’t there, that you didn’t even exist. Maybe it were best if you moved on and let yourself rest. Ghosts haunt their murderers, but Jack hadn’t killed you, you’d killed yourself—hoping, wishing, praying he would take a moment to believe and see you. But he never did. So you floated through his life until the moment you were no longer confined by unfinished business.

And maybe that was what you needed. Closure, the severing of a tie that was only hurting you to hold on to. And maybe, closure would come this summer. To look on Jack and not feel your heart race, but settle into a quiet murmur, a healthy pace—to free yourself from the confines of this painful love and finally move on. Haunt the graveyard no longer; sitting by and hoping he would place flowers by the grave.

“Okay,” you said quietly, glancing down at your sweater. Crimson marks stained the white fabric. You’d accidentally wiped your fingers on the cloth. “You win.”

Maybe this would be the summer you let go of Jack Hughes.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

The cry of gulls and gentle breeze of salt-bitter air welcomed you back as the car breezed past the Welcome to Sanibel Island! sign. It felt like a taunt, as if you were passing into the circus, the main star of a show you never signed up for. With Sanibel came Jack, and the potential end to a love you’d clawed onto for dear life for the last half-decade. It felt strange, almost wrong, to imagine a world where Jack Hughes didn’t exist as the basis for all romantic interests. To hold someone’s hand and not compare the texture to his. To lose the anticipated blush that warmed your face each time he glanced at you. Because losing Jack was like losing a piece of yourself—all your life you’d associated love with him, and what would there be afterwards?

Sandy beaches rolled endless at the horizon, dotted with the figures of vacationers and locals alike. You glanced to Luke, his hand working the steering wheel as he drove the long-winded path to the beach house. Strands of your hair were roused by the invisible hand of the wind, no doubt knotting it, but you were too enraptured in what ifs and a potential future to much care.

“Are you excited?” Luke asked, looking to you. Elbow leaned against the doorframe, you managed to work your mouth into a smile. Even if it was twinged with apprehension.

“Of course. I love it here. I’m glad you guys were rich enough to buy it.”

Luke laughed.

And that was true. Summer here felt endless. Nights spent on the beach, the tickle of warmth from a stick-lit fire cradling you against the rush of cold blowing off the ocean. The bitter rush of alcohol that stung your veins. Hair made wet by the sea, drying beneath the warm fingertips of sunlight. Skin richening into a burn, soothed only by aloe vera and a cold shower. Laughter between friends and the restless nights talking. All of it was perfect. For you, summer was Jack. Brief and sweet, the thing you looked forward to seeing each year. But it never lasted long enough to truly feel, something you could never touch.

You wondered if you made it obvious. If Luke suspected, or Quinn; the eldest Hughes was always the most perceptive. Any time Jack said something that made your teeth clench with hurt, Quinn glanced at you. A reassuring smile. The extended hand in the dark. But if he knew, he never commented on it.

“Who’s already here?” you asked, eyes catching on the brightly colored houses lining the beach. Blue, pink, the odd green, melding together as the car breezed into the strip of land the beach house rested on.

You almost dreaded the answer. “Quinn and Jack,” Luke responded, voice a little distant—his eyes scanned for the house, too focused on his task to much care for the cringe you gave at the mention of Jack’s name.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. It was his house. Yet you found yourself hoping you’d at least beaten him here so you could mentally prepare for his arrival. As it were, you had about five minutes to do that.

Tires crunched against sand as Luke pulled into the driveway. Lead solidified in your bones until you felt as though you were going to sink straight into the earth. A deep breath expanded your chest, and you watched as Luke took out his phone—presumably to text that he’d arrived. Escaping the car, Luke stared at you expectantly. Your body pressed against the doorframe, eyes glanced out at the horizon. Smeared like a painting across the sky, a myriad of colors—oranges, pinks, yellows—foretold the coming of night. Maybe you could stay in here until everyone was asleep, to sneak past Jack and not have to—

The door to the passenger side opened, and there stood Luke, a hand on his hip. Making grabby hands like a toddler, he motioned for you to come. “What’s up with you, Bells? You’re so… quiet.”

You snorted. “That’s not news.”

“You know what I meant,” retorted Luke, grabbing your elbow with a gentle grip. “What’s got your head off to sea?”

Your brother! you wanted to scream, but found your tongue bolted to the bottom of your mouth. Offering instead a smile, you allowed Luke to help you out of the Jeep. Soft sand caught your feet, cushioning the drop. It felt strange to be back here again, but somehow, you knew it wouldn’t be the same. A rueful feeling ached your bones. This would maybe be the last time you’d ever come to the beach house. If your closure went as you intended… there would be no more summers in Sanibel. No more late beach nights. No more salt air creating a stick sheen on your skin. No more Jack Hughes.

“Just thinking about summer,” was all you said.

Like everything, its temporariness was what made it special.

Together, you and Luke began to unpack the bags from the trunk of the Jeep. “Any fun activities planned this summer?” you asked, hoping to alleviate the tension making your head pound.

Luke gave you a backwards glance as he practically leaned his whole body into the trunk. “New bar opened on the strip,” he told you. “I think we have to go.”

Your eyebrows crinkled. “We’re twenty, Luke. And this is a tourist town, they’re going to ID.”

Luke only smiled, clearly not thwarted by your pessimism. “Lucky then that you don’t have to worry. I’ve got it all figured out.”

You didn’t want to ask how, so instead you sighed, hauling your bag onto your shoulder. “Whatever. But I am not ending up in jail because you want to underage drink in public, Luke.”

There was no response to that. Slinking past you with elegance you thought his large frame incapable of, Luke began walking up the driveway and towards the beach house. It looked exactly the same as it had last summer—a gentle gray exterior, like the storm clouds that sometimes brewed over the sea, and a darker roof. White wood bordered the many windows, some with their own balconies. Rust spotted the metal of the garage, slowly encroaching from the outside. A simple wood fence enclosed the sides of the house, leading to the back where you knew a pool hid. Everything was exactly the same, yet so different. Last time you were here, it all felt so unknown, like the end of the summer would make or break the rest of your year. You’d hoped then that maybe Jack would notice, that it would finally be the year he looked at you as more than Luke’s best friend. You’d packed your cutest outfits, the bikinis your friends said would make any man double-take, yet nothing worked. It had been the same as every year before. Jack was nice, but indifferent. Friendly, but inattentive.

However, this year wasn’t like every other year. You didn’t come here with starry eyes and a child-like hope that Jack would pick you after years of oblivion. You came here to finally let go of him, to move on, to bury a love you’d kept on life support for years and years, in the hopes it would come back to life.

Feet making indents in the sand as you walked up the driveway, you saw Jack’s car—a silver Mercedes-Benz—parked a bit ahead. You hated the stutter in your step when you saw it, and you hated more the stoppage in your heart when you heard laughter rounding the side of the house. There was two voices, interwoven and nearly indistinguishable, but you’d know his laugh anywhere, know it blind. All the feelings you’d shoved aside in favor of an aloof disposition crawled their way out of shallow graves. A shaky breath, the fluttering of your eyes, and suddenly—there he was.

Trailing behind Quinn, soaked black swim shorts clinging to wide thighs, a bare chest coated in droplets of water, tousled hair styled by the unconscious hand of water. He smiled, maybe at something Quinn had said, you weren’t sure, and it all came back. How could you get closure when he incited such a deep, profound longing in your soul? When he tugged you towards him the the moon to the tide?

You’d stopped walking. When, you weren’t sure. Time became an endless thing as Jack’s eyes flickered to you. Those blue eyes shot through with something you weren’t sure how to describe, but he grinned—at you—and then he was walking towards you. All at once you wanted to lob a rock at Luke’s head for making you come, and then kill yourself for even thinking for one moment closure would be remotely possible when you still were in love with Jack.

His presence was all-consuming, like stepping to close to the fire. Fingers worn by years of use brushed your own when he took your luggage, carrying it with ease. Even older than you, Jack never lost that youthful sense of delight you’d seen on kids when they got a new toy. He’d always been the sun. For you, and for everyone around him.

You’d never deluded yourself into thinking you were the only one who loved Jack, or wanted him. But it didn’t stop you from wishing you were the one he’d choose.

“Bells,” Jack greeted, warmth oozing from his words, so much that you wanted to yell at him that he wasn’t being fair. How could he expect you not to want him? How, when he was so nice to you, yet so indifferent? “How was the trip?”

Blinking, you allowed him to gathering your luggage and begin walking back to the house. Water transferred from his body to your tote bag, but you found yourself not caring. He could ruin everything you’d brought and it wouldn’t matter. They’d at least be stained with his touch.

“Good,” you managed, trying to keep your feet even on the lumpy sand. Why they’d decided not to install an actual drive way would never make sense to you. “Not a lot of traffic. Luke didn’t kill us, so that’s a plus.”

Jack laughed. It rumbled through his chest and echoed like a victory trumpet in the air. “He’s a shit driver,” he said. “Shoulda convinced him to let you drive with me.”

Tar filled your lungs. Words failed you, and so stupidity, you said: “But you drove with Quinn.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow. Readjusted your bag on his shoulder. “Quinn’s a big boy. He can travel alone.”

Before you could stop yourself, the words flew out of your mouth, “So you think I’m a little girl?”

Jack paused. Glanced over at you. The meeting of two sets of eyes holding extremely different emotions. After a moment, he cut the tension with another laugh. “You are two years younger than me.”

“So is Luke, and last I checked, he was the tallest,” you retorted, offering up a chuckle yourself. You didn’t want to give more, to give in. You had to keep that wall, even if there was already so many holes in it.

With his free hand, Jack tussled your hair, wiggling your head around. You batted him off, feigning annoyance, when really, you wanted him to keep touching you. You could have groaned. God, you were pathetic.

Entering the beach house was like entering freedom. It was typically decorated, that seaside aesthetic Ellen had done herself the first year the boys bought the house. Fishing net and shells in jars, accompanied by hanging hammocks and white coral displays hadn’t moved, and you felt the air greet you, blowing in from the open back door that looked over the pool—and the beach. Salty air snaked up your airway, a welcome sting. A missed one. You weren’t sure if you’d miss Jack or the beach house more.

Luke disappeared with Quinn, the latter offering a gentle smile—perhaps a little pity twinged in. That left only you and Jack, standing in the wide mouth of the living room, the sunset sky bathing your skin in those candle-light oranges you so loved. Beside you, the gentle pat, pat, pat of water dripping off of Jack’s shorts was all that was heard. You took a moment more to enjoy the feeling of peace you got from being here, before Jack snapped you back to the current with a throat clear.

“Want me to bring your stuff to your room?” Your room. The one you’d claimed all those years ago. A room that—after this summer, perhaps—would bo longer be yours. You’d spent hours decorating it, little trinkets imposed with sentiment covering the room. The sea blue sheets. The balcony overlooking the ocean. All of it would be gone.

You had to inhale to stave off the melancholia crawling up your throat like bile. “Yeah, thanks.”

It was hard not to look at Jack. He was always the center of attention—on the ice, off the ice; in his personal life, in the eye of the public. He just was. Never asked for it, always had it. Girls wanted him, boys wanted to be him. You imagined it got tedious after so many years, but at the same time, you wondered what it would be like to be that loved. So adored you could have anything and anyone. You found you’d trade it all for him, for Jack, if he simply asked. You knew he wouldn’t do the same. Why give up freedom for a small-town girl that his brother had dragged around for longer than he probably should?

Up the stairs, through a hallway, and there your room was. You tried to revel in it, in the finality of it all. Convinced you were never coming back here. That Jack would never carry your luggage for you again, making a mess of the floors just to help you out. Inside, you saw the bed was made just like how you left it. A small whale plush—affectionately named Hershey for the chocolate it had been holding when it was won at the arcade—was sat just before the pillows. You hadn’t left him there. Hershey was a cherish piece of history; Jack had won him for you, two years back. Whales were your favorite animal, a gentle giant, the crown of the sea. He knew it, and he had gotten him for you. Maybe that was what kept your hope alive, the little things, the moments where he was more than just an unreachable deity you prayed to repeatedly just for him to notice you.

You glanced over your shoulder as Jack placed your luggage down with a thud. He rubbed his hands together. “Found him downstairs,” he said, gesturing to Hershey, “figured I’d bring him home.”

Home. A word that made your gut turn. His home, but never yours.

“Oh, yeah,” you said lamely. “Wouldn’t want to lose Hershey. You tried so hard to win him.”

Jack scoffed. “I was playing against Trevor. I’d be embarrassed if I didn’t win.”

“Don’t talk about Trevor like that,” you teased with a smile. Finding yourself slipping back into the dynamic. You’d try to make him laugh, just to make him smile. Just to make him see you could make him happy.

Jack only rolled his eyes. You attempted to side-step him, only for your foot to catch his own. A hand immediately came to your rescue, steadying you. A hot flush pinkened your cheeks and slid down your spine. His breath fanned over your temple, a catalyst for every single one of your nerves fraying. You hated that he could do this to you, without trying, without caring, when you tried so hard to avoid falling back into him like a fool. It wasn’t fair—but when was love?

Jack pulled his hand away, the phantom of his fingers imprinted on your skin. Marked. Just like you’d always been. “Sorry,” you muttered, embarrassment eating at you.

His laugh was a reward. “It’s fine,” he responded. It was always fine with Jack. Never hard feelings. You didn’t think he had a aggressive bone in his body, even after years and years of playing physical hockey. “Even after all the years, you still can’t stay on your feet.”

A reference to your clumsiness. Which wasn’t clumsiness. It was just Jack. You never stumbled around anyone but him. “Yeah,” you bit out, probably harsher than intended. “Guess I haven’t changed.”

But you had. And you needed to find a way out of the hole that was Jack Hughes before you were buried alive.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Letting go of things has never been easy. Marked with scratches and tears, everything you’d ever relinquished never left the same. How could it, when you’d spent so much time loving it, cherishing it, only for it to be cruelly ripped from your grasp? Letting go had never been easy, because you’d never been ready to lose what was taken, because it was never ready to leave you either. That’s why it was so easy to reason with yourself about finally moving on from Jack Hughes.

It wasn’t mutually assured destruction. There would be no blowing out of stars and creation of supernovas when you finally put the love to rest. Because it was you. It was never him. He didn’t love you—hell, he didn’t even know you loved him. Perhaps there laid the foundation for burial, a tomb within the dunes, marked with a single shell. When the time came, no claw marks would mar Jack’s skin. He was never yours to mark.

Two weeks had since passed. Settling in had always been easy, but this time, it felt like a final meal before execution. A good thing before the inevitable end. Nights spent by the pool, the reflection of the water a perfect mirror of Jack’s eyes. Drinking and laughing and talking—a chosen family, but one you’d soon depart. You’d always have Luke, the last cord of the fraying rope, unbreakable and timeless. But never again would you tug on that rope, just to see the other end. To move on from Jack would be to forget him, as much as you could.

The summer sun blistered overhead, biting your skin until red bloomed. Splayed out on a beach towel, you opted to suntan while the boys enjoyed the water. You’d get in, eventually, preferably when Jack was not in. You didn’t want the distraction of his body to further make you doubt your ability to handle change. Back facing the sun, you remained entranced by the book in front of you, instead imagining your love life was as explosive and beautiful as the story written for you. When you went to flip the page, something hit your back—a ball, you guessed, from the feeling of impact—making your already sunburnt skin sting like hell.

“Shit,” you cursed, placing your book face down in order to stand. Glancing to the side you figured the ball bounced off to, there sat the culprit: a black-and-white soccer ball, covered in patches of sand.

You heard some shouting, and opted to be a good samaritan and grab it. As you bent down to pick up the sandy ball, another pair of hands invaded your vision and brushed your own. Rightening, you saw a tall man—your age, presumably—who immediately began spewing apologies of all kinds.

He had that youthful look to him, the same as Jack. Golden curls fell around his eyes, slightly sandy, a bit wet, but gleaming like rays of sunlight. Familiar eyes, the blue of the sky after a storm, peered at you with a mixture of concern and apology. He was beautiful, in an artful way—a hand-sculpted effigy, lain in the town square to be worshiped. You figured with age and maturity he presently lacked, he’d be all the more beautiful.

But he wasn’t Jack.

“I am—so sorry!” he spewed words like bullets, hoping one apology landed. You bit down a laugh at the desperation leaking into his voice. “I wasn’t watching where I was kicking. Sorta shanked it—scratch that, really shanked it. Are you okay—I meant to ask—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off, sparing him. As endearing as his apology was, you could see red rising to his face—you knew what it felt like. “Although I don’t recommend you shoot for the Premier League.”

Upon realizing you weren’t angry, the boy relaxed. “Yeah, as if,” he laughed, tossing the balls back and forth between his hands. “You are okay, right?”

Your eyebrow quirked. “Unless you’re secretly the Hulk, I don’t think you kicking a ball at me could do any serious damage.” Your fingers grazed the spot the ball struck. “Might have a weird mark on my back, ‘s all.”

Goldie Locks, as you’d taken to calling in him your head, circled around you and bent at his knees. His fingertips grazed the small of your back, rattling your spine into a shiver. You heard a subdued sound—something between a giggle and a sharp exhale of air through his noise—and twisted to look down at him.

“It looks dumb, huh?” you said, trying to feel the patter marked on your back with your fingers.

Goldie Locks shook his head. “You wear it well.”

“I better, or I’ll give you a matching mark,” you teased. He stood up, imposing. “Really, though, I’m fine…”

He caught on swiftly. “Jackson. Or Jack.”

You could have cursed the Gods and Fate and her trifling ways. Of course the first cute guy you find has to be him, but not be him. The great irony of life, you supposed it was. Finally ready to move on, and your tugged right back to square one.

A tight smile made its way onto your face. “Jackson.”

Jackson opened his mouth to say something, but the voice of the man you quite literally could not escape interrupted him. “Bells? You okay?”

You thought briefly of faking fainting.

“I’m fine,” you responded, without looking at Jack. You couldn’t. But you wanted to. “He just hit me with a soccer ball and was apologizing.”

Jack imposed into your vision anyway. Jaw working, the rapid flex of his muscles that told he ran to you. Suddenly, the sweltering heat was no longer the cause for your sweating. “Hit you?” he repeated, glancing to Jackson with a raised brow.

Shoved into an unwanted spotlight, Jackson immediately backpedaled. “Accident. Didn’t mean to hit your girl.”

Your girl.

Your girl.

Your girl.

Those two simple words repeated like a scratched vinyl in your mind. Jack’s girl. His. It was something that would have made past you puff your chest. It made present you feel sick. Another pull towards him. Another lock trapping you inside of the room. In the past, you wouldn’t have said anything—wouldn’t have fought it. You’d have waited to see if Jack would deny it; he always did. Another nail in the coffin. How many were needed until you finally understood?

But you were now actively trying to fight the feeling seemingly hardwired into your blood. The instinct that told you to love Jack. “Oh, we’re not dating,” you told Jackson. Blue eyes flittered to you—was he surprised? For once you denied, distanced. Was he confused? “He’s my best friend’s older brother.”

You didn’t know why you added that part. It wasn’t necessary—Jackson didn’t care about your relationships to Jack past the words not dating. But here you were, petty pride swelling in your chest at finally getting to stick it to Jack. Finally being the denier instead of the denied.

“Oh,” Jackson quirked his brow. Glanced at Jack; he said nothing. “Is it okay if I have your number?”

That shocked you. And it clearly shocked Jack, as well. His shoulders tensed, eyes darting to you. Gauging your response. You would have said no before. Would have made some dumb excuse. If you accepted, you distanced yourself from Jack, showed indifference. Past you couldn’t have that.

Present you could.

“Sure,” you said.

This summer would be different.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a date. Michael Neely in eleventh grade, but that was in major part because he looked entirely too similar to Jack—didn’t act like him, however. Didn’t smile like the sun’s envy. He just wasn’t Jack. For as long as you could remember, no one had been. Isolating yourself for years because of the off chance Jack would finally admit it, as if he’d been pulling a big joke on you and had actually wanted you back. But he never did. And you couldn’t wait around forever hoping he would. He never asked you to.

You went through your hair with a brush one final time before deeming yourself presentable. A knit green tank-top paired with denim shorts, warm vanilla perfume—one you’d used since Jack had offered a compliment on the scent—and a smile that you hoped appeared genuine. For once you were excited, not thinking of Jack, measuring Jackson up to him. You let Jackson be himself, undeterred by the ghost of your unrequited love.

The downstairs of the beach house was alive with loud laughter and conversation—you hated you could still pick out Jack’s laugh, could imagine his face when he did; the gentle scrunch of his nose, the squint of his eyes. You wondered if it would ever go away, that sixth sense. If you’d ever be truly and unapologetically free.

Rounding the corner, you were met with the sight of the three brothers playing what looked to be Chel, their eyes fixated on the large TV in front of the couch they were splayed on. You debated slinking out of the house, silent as they’d always teased you for being, just to avoid the awkward conversation you knew would come from the knowledge you—Bells, infatuated devotee of Jack Hughes—were going on a date with a boy you’d known a week.

Fiddling with your fingers, you stood at the back of the couch. Not wanting to interrupt their game, you went to simply tap Luke on the shoulder, hoping he’d eventually pause it. He wasn’t the one to do it, however. Luke and Queen groaned in annoyance when the screen paused, glancing over to the only person who could have done it. Jack didn’t spare them a glance. His homely blue eyes were on you, eyebrows furrowed. Following his gaze, Luke and Quinn gave you a once-over.

“Hell are you going all dolled up like that, Bells?” Luke asked, flicking you on the wrist.

You didn’t really think you were dolled up. “I have a thing called a date, Luke.”

That incited the expected awkward silence. As if drawn by a unbeatable force, you found yourself glancing to Jack. White-knuckled, he gripped the controller with such force you were surprised it didn’t break on him entirely. You briefly wondered what his issue was before Quinn spoke.

“With who?” Surprise laced his question, and you hated it. Hated that he thought you were incapable of moving on from Jack—or maybe he didn’t think you incapable, just averse.

“That guy from the beach, right, Bells?” Luke piped up, turning his body on the couch to face you. “What was his name? Jack?”

You ground your jaw. “Jackson.”

Luke shrugged. “Same thing.”

It wasn’t. You really hoped it wasn’t.

You turned to leave, intent on scurrying out like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, when a voice called you back. Always calling you back, just when you tried to leave.

“Bells,” Jack spoke, voice drawled. You didn’t turn. “Where are you going?”

You blinked at him, dumbfounded. “On a date…?”

“Where?” You figured it could have been a growl if he were less careful. Luke and Quinn glanced at each other. You fought back a scream.

Why do you care? Why now? When I’m about to move on? I spent so much time waiting for you. I’m done.

You wanted to scream those words at him, but of course, like most confessions, they went unsaid.

“The cove,” you humored him, eyes flicking to your fingers. When had they started bleeding? The cove, of course, was as it sounded: a small chunk of land past the rock barrier at the beach, cornered in by mangroves and hidden away from sight, Jackson claimed it the perfect place for a seaside picnic. You weren’t one to argue.

When Jack made no effort to respond, you finally left. Jackson wasn’t even there yet, but you couldn’t stay inside anymore. Indecision and confusion were eating away at your gut, turning your mind into a war zone. You didn’t understand—couldn’t understand. Years spent in the shadow of Jack Hughes had taught you to fear the light, that if you even for a second let the rays touch you, came the consequence of losing the shade forever. And you’d tossed those fears aside, let yourself into the light, and that only made the dark come back in full force.

It wasn’t fair. Why weren’t you allowed to move on? To finally break the bonds that you yourself had made? Jack had never kept you near, and yet now he didn’t seem to want to let you go. Like a child unwilling to relinquish a toy just because it was theirs.

You tried not to dwell on it. Not when Jackson pulled up, his 4Runner breaking the noise of gulls calls and rumbling cars. Not when he led you out to the cove, picnic basket in hand, like an old-timey romance your mother used to watch. You tried, but just like everything concerning not thinking about Jack, miserably failed. Jackson was attentive, sweet, he did it all right. And as much as you hated yourself for thinking it, it was true: he wasn’t Jack.

“Are you a local?” Jackson asked you. Your mouth closed around a strawberry, staining your fingertips red—better than blood, you supposed.

The tide lapped gently at the sand before your feet, spanning out from beneath the quilt laid beneath you and Jackson. Always coming close, but never quite enough to wet your feet. Gnarled roots of mangrove trees split the sand, boxing the little cove in. You remembered coming here with Jack once, when he was trying to make up for throwing you in the pool with your phone in your back pocket. He hadn’t set up a picnic, only sat beside you in the sand and offered you Hershey. A silent apology. One you never forgot.

Trying to build over that memory was like trying to filter the salt out of the sea. There was too much to ever fully get rid of it.

A breeze tickled your legs. Sand parted between your toes. Everything felt normal; normal, you realized, wasn’t always right.

“No,” you responded after some time, tossing the strawberry head to the sea. “I come here every year with my best friend, his brothers, and their friends.”

Jackson nodded. “The guy from the beach, the one I thought you were dating—” You fought the urge to cringe, “—that was Jack Hughes, right?”

Always the icon. Beloved, beautiful Jack Hughes.

You glanced at Jackson. He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve known him for years. His brother is my best friend.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying that,” he laughed, a whimsical sound. Off-key; pitched too high. You didn’t think you’d be able to differentiate it in a room of others. “How’d that even happen?”

You grinned. Memories of freshman year. Restless nights spent studying in Luke’s room. False trips to the bathroom just for a chance at a glance of his brother. “Luke and I met in our freshman year biology class. He absolutely sucked. Had to tutor the poor kid so he wouldn’t fail.”

Jackson shook his head, the mess of golden curls crowning him danced with the movement. Raising a finger, he wagged it at you as if apprehending a naughty dog. “Hold on now. Biology is damn hard, cut him some slack.”

You giggled. Almost cringed. You felt like a schoolgirl again, trying to slow time as a cute boy walked past. “Maybe if you’re a loser.”

More time passed, the sun’s rays dulled to a warm orange instead of a blinding yellow. The sea calmed. Unseen birds chirped and sung their tunes, never to be understood. Jackson asked questions, answered some. He indulged, dug deep, hoping for treasure. It was strange, to fix your hair and bat your lashes in the hopes of impressing a boy who wasn’t Jack Hughes. Stranger yet you were enjoying Jackson, even fantasizing about a second date. The cold fingers of the wind rose gooseflesh in its wake; your arms rose to combat it, folding against your body in hopes to retain heat. Jackson peered over.

“Cold?” he asked, presumptuous and forward and hoping; one arm already out of his cardigan.

You nodded, murmuring a thanks as Jackson draped his sweater over your shoulders. At once the smell of salt and secondhand smoke snaked up your nose, invaded your airways. It was so different from the warm amber you imagined your skin would faintly smell of if Jack made you his—he smelled like heartbreak and sleepless nights and longing, something you feared was permanently smeared on your flesh. You found yourself heating at the scent, blushing, a slight twinge of excitement at the thought of being claimed by another boy. Foolishly, maybe, you thought it could purge Jack from you, draw over the marks he’d made all over your flesh.

You’d had boys like you before, liked them back—felt the head rush that accompanied youthful yearning. None had ever compared to Jack. Like a stain on your favorite shirt, he’d never come out of your heart, a scar that pulsed every so often, a reminder that he was still there. That he’d never go away. You realized now, looking at Jackson—the soft lines that sprouted next to his eyes when he smiled, a mess of curly blond hair that seemed to fall perfectly in front of his eyes, catered specifically to his beauty—that the memories of wounds weren’t always bad. They weren’t just reminders that you’d been hurt, but that you survived.

Before your mind could conjure any wishful images of you and Jackson, he spoke, “Tomorrow night, there’s a beach bonfire.” His finger extended, curled a stray piece of hair out of your eyes. “Something the locals do every year to kick off summer.”

You smiled—genuinely smiled, not just a flash of teeth forced in order to hide a grimace. Not the smiles you got so used to giving Jack. “And you’re telling me this because…”

Banter. He could tell you knew where he was getting, yet wanted him to spell it out anyway. “Go with me? I think you’d enjoy it,” he said, voice gentle over the lap of waves against the shore. You could almost feel the world hold its breath, awaiting your answer. Would you cling to a hope and dream, or go with what was sitting in front of you? “Plus, having a pretty girl with a perfect personality on my arm wouldn’t hurt too bad.”

“Hmm…” You faked contemplation, tapping your chin. When Jackson flicked your forehead, you scoffed, batting at his hand. “Well now I’m reconsidering my answer, ass.”

Warm fingers wrapped around your wrist, caught it midair, a fish hooked on a line. Feverish, a heat you’d only associated with one person your whole life rose to your head as Jackson’s eyes met yours. Not blue, green. Your mind didn’t even attempt to paint over them, to erase his color, to make him him. Lips wet by eager tongues, a mutual desire. When had you last even considered another man romantically, sexually?

The answer was: not since Jack Hughes barged his way into your life and trapped your heart behind a wall, tossing away the key.

Before anything could be realized, before you could experience your first kiss in what felt like forever, a dull vibrating ripped the moment to shreds. Annoyance flashed in your heart, and a part of you told you to ignore it—but you couldn’t. What if something had gone wrong? Apologetically, you tore your eyes away from Jackson and dug your phone out of your back pocket.

The name flashing on the screen had your heart clenching.

Jack.

“Yes?” Confused, clipped. Why was Jack calling you?

“Oh, uh, hey,” came Jack’s voice—you frowned at his tone. He sounded as if he didn’t even know why he was calling. “I was just… calling to see when you’d be home tonight.”

A scream bubbled in your throat. This is why he was calling you? “This could have been a text.”

Jack laughed dryly. “Guess so. Figured you wouldn’t have seen it.”

You didn’t want to admit he was right. “It’s what…” You took your phone away from your face to look at the time. 8:43. “8:43? I’m not sure, Jack. We’re still at the cove.”

Shuffling on the other end. Your eyes darted to Jackson; he seemed intrigued at who was calling you. “Right, well… Luke wanted to know, so…”

You frowned. “Then why didn’t Luke call me?”

“Playing Chel,” was all you got in response.

Pettiness whirled in your chest like a maelstrom. For once you had the upper hand; cards hidden against your chest, not splayed out for all to see. Maybe with the right move, Jack would fold after so many years of winning. It was childish, you knew that, but the child in you who’d hoped and hoped and hoped only to get turned down every single time awoke—wanted Jack to feel the burn she’d felt when he’d sunk his hooks into her heart.

“I may not come home tonight,” you told him, relished in the pause. Jackson’s eyes flickered to you, curious.

“What?” Jack asked, voice darkened with knowing and other terrible emotions. “What do you mean?”

He knew very well what you meant.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You resisted the urge to recoil at the scorching flame simmering in Jack’s tone; he rarely ever spoke to anyone like that, least of all you. “You met him this week, Bells. If you aren’t home by 10:30 I’m coming to find you.”

Rage flared. You weren’t sure why. Maybe because you could pretend like he cared. As if he had any right to tell you when you had to be home. “So what? Now I have a curfew?” You didn’t want Jackson to overhear the spat, but it’s clear he was watching, listening, picking apart the conversation. “Forgot the part where you were my mother, Jack.”

“You’re staying in my house,” he retorted sharply. “10:30. I’m not kidding.”

After that, the line went dead.

Fire lashed in your veins, threatening to burn your being to ash. How dare he? Just as you inched out of the cage, he tries to drag you back in. Why did he care now? Why couldn’t he have before?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Tears taunted you. Tried to slip past your eyes. You had given so many tears to Jack, expected him to bottle them and place them on a shelf, a reminder to never hurt you again. He never did. The moon’s rays were a solace, an extended comfort from who knew loneliness better than anything. Soft fingers touched your arm, didn’t push—only rested there, a reminder of consolation.

“He’s like an older brother, huh?” Jackson tried to alleviate your melancholy, revive your playful spirit like a necromancer.

It only made you sadder. If only Jack were like an older brother, if only your heart hadn’t chosen him to beat for.

“Yeah,” you chuckled dryly. “Let’s be glad he won’t be there tomorrow.”

A bright grin tugged on Jackson’s lips. “So you’re coming?”

You smiled.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

10:15.

The bright light of your phone screen cut through the darkness as you walked up the sandy driveway to the beach house. The departing rumble of Jackson’s 4Runner interrupted the ballad sung by the cicadas and crickets, a sound that followed you all the way to the front door. Sliding your sunflower-adorned key out of your pocket, you fiddled with the lock before finally managing your way into the house. The biting cold of the summer night was promptly chased away by the inviting warmth, but you found yourself unwilling to remove Jackson’s green cardigan. Plastic buttons twirled between your fingers, a few stitches unraveled. Well-worn, loved—smelled like summer nights and escape. You smiled to yourself.

The hum of the TV, along with its vibrant glow startled you as you crossed into the living room area. Despite the somewhat early time, you hadn’t expected anyone to be awake. But there Luke was, curled up on the couch, watching Grease. You could have laughed if you weren’t more aware; Luke had always had a major small crush on Sandy, his guilty pleasure movie, one that came with summer nights and hours talking into the AM. Rounding the foot of the couch, you plopped down next to Luke, startling him out of what appeared to be oncoming sleep.

“Back already?” he asked groggily, clearing the gravel out of his throat. He straightened, blinked a few times. “I take it you didn’t get laid.”

You glared at Luke, silently cursed his teenage-boyishness. “Not everyone fucks on the first date, dick,” you retorted, smiling. “Someone here gave me a curfew. Said he’d come looking for me if I didn’t come back in time; I wasn’t too keen on testing him.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Cockblock,” he muttered. “Which of them was it? Quinn? He seems like the type.”

“The other one,” you corrected, earning a confused look from Luke. “Exactly! That’s what I thought. Also, did you ask Jack to ask me when I’d be home?”

“No,” Luke drawled, raising an eyebrow. “Why would I?”

That son of a bitch.

Was he just dead set on denying you happiness? Why couldn’t he just admit to caring even a little about you? Why dress up good deeds as the requests of others? Nothing about Jack made sense; it never had. You supposed that was part of the appeal, the mystery of it all. A puzzle gathering dust on the shelf, tried and forgotten for its difficulty. You’d always had a knack for choosing the hardest games.

You waved Luke off, not wanting to hear his conspiracies tonight. Maybe tomorrow, when you didn’t have the weight of a thousand unanswered questions close to caving in your chest. “Nothing,” you said. “Are Quinn and Jack awake?”

Luke eyed you. He saw through you—always had. Yet, for the sake of your dwindling sanity, chose silence. “Quinn isn’t, no,” he told you. “Went to bed like an hour ago.”

“Old man,” you commented, earning a laugh. “And Jack?”

Luke’s eyes flickered to the door leading to the back porch. A warm orange glow was visible through the drawn curtains. “He’s in the pool, I think.”

You nodded. Came to a resolution in your withering heart. “Right,” you murmured, standing. Before departing, you pressed a kiss to Luke’s cheek. “Night, Luke. Go up to your room, if you fall asleep here, I won’t be able to carry you to your bed.”

Luke rolled his eyes, nudged your leg with his knee. “How unfortunate.” Then, he stood, and disappeared up the stairs.

Dread swarmed in your stomach like a tornado, wrecking every defense you’d built up these past weeks to keep out a certain boy. You feared damage control wouldn’t be enough this time, that you couldn’t rebuild if Jack shut you down now. But you had to confront him, had to at least tell him to stop controlling you if nothing else. This summer was meant to be your closure, the final chapter in a book you never thought would end. It felt more like the procession to the grave, not the closing of a door.

What if losing your love for Jack lost you him?

The back door swung open with a squeal, piercing the once thick silence. With your presence swiftly outed, you forewent attempting discreetness, and eased out onto the pool deck. Fingers of frost grabbed for your exposed skin, only combated by Jackson’s cardigan. Bones rattling, you wondered why on earth Jack was going for a swim right now of all times.

You heard the lapping of water, roused by movement, before you saw him. The fluorescent underwater lightning cut through the darkness and reflected on your face, a myriad of whites and blues that was distinctly Jack. When you came to the pools edge, your eyes focused on him—clad in nothing but a pair of blue swim shorts—floating ok his back, eyes closed, as if imagining himself in a different place. You almost felt sorry to ruin the fabrication of his mind. Remembering your anger, you pushed aside the feeling. Why should he be given peace when he’d never given you any?

Before you could even open your mouth, his eyes opened, as if sensing you. He adjusted, treading water, as you merely assessed each other. Waiting. Who would draw first? You. It had always been you.

“I’m home now,” you bit out, your leash gone; Jackson wasn’t here to judge you. “Happy?”

Water lapped at Jack’s collarbones. You almost envied it for being able to touch him so freely. His eyes darted around you, then stopped on the cardigan. Forest green, like Jackson’s eyes. You knew he knew; you hadn’t been wearing it when you left.

“Cute,” he commented, sarcastic and dripping with cruelty you’d never heard from him before. He parted the water with ease, as if he expected everything to bend to his will.

Jack stopped where you stood at the edge. You looked down on him for once, a prick of pride stinging you as for once you had the high ground. For once, he wasn’t able to confine you with his overwhelming presence and being. Fingers curled around the edge of the pool, his hair dripping tears of chlorine-tainted water down his face, Jack merely watched you, waiting a scolding, the tantrum of a child who had what she wanted torn away.

You thought if unfair someone could be so beautiful, especially when he could never be yours.

“What is your issue?” you snapped finally, folding your arms, protecting your glass heart from his insults he’d fire like arrows. “I asked Luke, he said he never asked you what time I’d be home. Was it fun for you? To ruin my date?”

Jack scoffed. Arms corded with muscle flexed, rose from the water; a heave and he was on his feet in front of you, your leverage lost. Water bled off his body like a torrent, soaking your shoes. Droplets flicked on Jackson’s cardigan, the water staining through. You stepped back instinctively, throat tight. You hated how, even now, he had an effect on you.

“Ruin?” he echoed, eyebrows creased. “Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t like you were planing on staying out with him past 10:30. I was doing you a favor, giving you an out.”

Classic Jack; thinking he knew better than everyone else. “You weren’t, actually,” you hissed. “I didn’t need an out, Jack; I was enjoying myself. So much so I’m going out with him again tomorrow night.”

That was unnecessary to say, you knew. A bite only given to wound him, to prove you were capable of rising from your knees and tearing down the shrine you’d devoted to him for years. Because if Jack Hughes was no longer your sun, you didn’t need to revolve around him—shine only when he was near. Pathetic and driven by childish need to probe yourself, you wanted Jack to hurt—even if you knew he never would, that he couldn’t care less about who you loved and who you were with.

You just wished that he did.

A flicker of confusion. A frown, and then, “What?”

“Jackson invited me to the beginning of summer beach bonfire,” you told him, watching Jack’s jaw tense. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t—he’d always been so encapsulating. “It’s tomorrow night.”

His presence invaded every defense you’d placed up. Chin tipped to look at him, you felt suddenly claustrophobic, as if boxed in—everywhere you looked was him. Deep breaths made each muscle of his chest flex and tense, well-sculpted from years of punishing activity. You hated the flush that almost burned your face. You hated the thunder of your pulse that drowned out any noise but your racing heart. You hated the effect he had on you.

“You aren’t going,” he said simply, as if he had any say.

You frowned. “Yes, I am.”

Jack’s lip wrinkled. Condescension dripped from his voice. “No, you aren’t.”

You could have strangled him. You really could have. “You aren’t my father, Jack. You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m going.”

He smiled at you. Smiled like he thought you opposition was funny. “You met this guy this week, Bells,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Not only that, you have no idea who’s going to be at this bonfire. What if something goes wrong? You think Golden Boy is going to play the white knight?”

Ignoring what Jack had called Jackson, you turned to leave. You were absolutely not having this argument with him. Not when it was ultimately your decision and your life. Before you could even make it a step, a wet hand clamped around your arm, fingers closing around you like a vice—Jack spun you, unsteadying you. In an effort to save yourself a trip straight down, you threw up your hands, connecting palms with the rigid plane of Jack’s chest. Heat rose to your face, a feverish high sinking the logic of your brain. All of a sudden, you were sixteen again hoping Jack would come out of his room while you were in the hallway.

Breath deepened, you searched for an out—a way to defend yourself. The sword lying at your palms was cheap, but effective, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

But you did know better. And you knew he wasn’t; you just wished he was.

Jack smiled. Predatory. “Of Jackson?” Fingers loosened—you took the chance to escape, pulling yourself free of Jack’s hold. “If you’re going to try and make me jealous, maybe do it with someone who doesn’t have my fucking name.”

He breezed past you, disappearing inside like a shadow.

You looked down. Eyes grazing the cardigan. A wet handprint stained the arm. Jack’s handprint.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Smoke thickened the air into a husky, palpable haze. Dozens of conversations overlapped into one massive dissonance, drowning out the harsh crash of waves upon the shoreline. Bathed in an amber glow provided by a massive fire housed upon a hearth of triangularly-laid sticks, the beach was alive with drinking and laughing and dancing. Sand cushioned your feet, sandals dangling in your hands. Jackson haunted your side, keeping close. He led you in deeper, parting throngs of people like the Red Sea. Greeting a few of them, introducing you.

Excitement turned your blood hot. Rebellion made it all the sweeter. Despite Jack’s vehement opposition against your coming here, you’d done it anyway. When the boys had decided to get a few drinks at the new bar that opened up, you feigned sun sickness as a result of a day at the beach. Whether or not they believed you didn’t matter much—they’d left, which allowed you the chance to be here.

All you had to do was be home before them, which shouldn’t have been difficult. They’d be home in the early hours of the morning.

Mingling with Jackson was simple enough—people didn’t much care who you were. Just that you existed. Beers were handed to you, drank quickly. You wanted to have fun, to let yourself exist without the shackle that was Jack Hughes dragging you back from any romantic venture. A heated hand slipped in your own; Jackson smiled at you. Stomach knotted in a ball, you downed the rest of your White Claw and grinned back.

“You feelin’ okay?” he asked, bending down to better carry his voice to you. The proximity of his face warmed your chest.

“Mhm,” you hummed, relishing in the head rush. Being drunk wasn’t something you did often, what with being underage. There were parts you hated, parts you sought. Like the current buzz of warmth that whispered false confidence through your bloodstream.

The confidence that made you lead Jackson to the water’s edge, hidden from the glow of the fire, shadows outlined by the light of the moon. Rosy-cheeked, you tossed your arms around Jackson’s neck and peered up at him. Although his countenance was lost in the darkness, you could make out blown pupils overtaking his eyes, parted lips lightly doused in alcohol. Water lapped at your feet, danced around your ankles. You didn’t care. Everything in your mind was screaming at you to just do it—kiss him and get it over with, get over with Jack.

Jack.

You hated that even in a moment like this, your mind went to Jack.

It was then—arms tossed around Jackson’s neck, the waves kissing your bare legs—that you realized you’d never let go of Jack. You couldn’t. He was too well in your heart, the patchwork of two souls. If you could, you would turn tail and run, find happiness on the road of abandonment. You wouldn’t have to worry about being alone, isolated simply because people found a piece of your life more interesting than the whole. You wouldn’t have to rebuild your shattered heart when another summer passed by without Jack loving you. You wouldn’t need to remind your heart not to give in to his toothy smile and infectious laugh.

But then, you wouldn’t have Jack. His smile, the devil’s disguise, a shot of oxytocin to the system. Touching of skin, unintentional yet entirely wanted, setting ablaze the wildfire that burned down your castle of wood. Nights spent by the pool, his face illuminated by the glow of underwater lights. The way he made your heart break and mend all at once, the high of a drug that you could never quit. Every time, you relapsed, reminded yourself why you loved Jack—why he was your favorite love, your only one. He didn’t want you for anything, he didn’t even want you.

And maybe it was that; the hypothetical, the possibility. The construct you’d built inside your head, trying to fit into the narrative every summer, but never getting the part.

“Jackson?”

He looked down at you. Green, not blue. Never blue. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think—”

All at once, your arms were falling, cradling empty space as Jackson was ripped away from your touch. A splash of water sent droplets launching into your skin and clothes. You shrieked, stumbled, looked for the culprit. And of course—there Jack stood, huffing, as if he’d run to you. You could barely make out his face, but you didn’t need to; you’d know him blind, by touch alone. Your eyes went down to Jackson, body engulfed in the shallow water. You pieced it together, came into the frantic understanding that Jack had pushed Jackson.

Immediately, you went to help Jackson, only to be tugged back by your elbow. “Jack! What the hell?”

He didn’t grace you with an answer—didn’t even look at you, actually. Those stormy blue eyes were on Jackson, murderous and heated. He shoved you behind him. “What are you doing, huh?” he barked. “Did you know you were giving a minor alcohol? She’s twenty, you fucking idiot!”

Tears of frustration turned your eyes wet, and air became scarce. You wanted to do something, but what could you even do? Jack was accustomed to ignoring you. Stares nipped at the back of your head. Conversation dulled into a lapse.

“Jack, enough,” you begged, the sheer desperation in your voice normally something you’d hate—you couldn’t be bothered to care now. “Please. I’m fine. It wasn’t Jackson’s fault. He didn’t do anything.”

“Stop,” Jack interrupted, eyes flashing to you, a warning. “I told you not to come. Stay out of this, Bells.”

“I had no idea, dude, I swear!” Jackson responded, pulling himself up from the water. Soaked head-to-toe, and dully embarrassed. “She did it herself, I didn’t offer her anything!”

It soured your mouth he was trying to shift the blame to you, even if he was being honest. Your eyes flicked to Jack, and all at once you were reminded why you chose to love him.

His hair was tousled, worked one too many times by frustrated fingers. Eyes wild and concerned, so raw that you could’ve convinced yourself he was that cut by your situation. You knew it wasn’t you; he was just a good person, an empathetic one. But still, you liked to imagine. You’d spent your life imagining what it would be like for him to love you.

“Jack, please, just—”

“Don’t you dare blame her,” Jack’s voice was strangled, as if barely bypassing a wall of fury. “What the fuck do you think this is? The blame game? I don’t care who gave her the alcohol. You brought her here.”

“Please, Jack, let’s just go,” you pleaded, voice tight—embarrassment crawled up your spine like the cold. Everyone was looking, observing the screaming match you’d unfortunately found yourself a part of. “People are looking.”

“I don’t give a shit,” he hissed, advancing on Jackson. Chest-to-chest. A size up; one you hoped wouldn’t result in traded blows. You’d never seen Jack so angry, so wrought with violence. He’d always been docile—kind.

“Why do you care?” Jackson finally snapped, shoving Jack backwards. You tried to intercede, only to be shut down. “She said she wasn’t your girlfriend. Stop acting like a jealous dick.”

Jack laughed. He turned around, facing you as he spoke. “She may not be mine,” he conceded, “but she sure as hell will never be yours.”

Everything was happening to quickly. Your mind struggled to process the entire interaction, how quickly it had all gone sour. Before you could question Jack, scold him, consider the root of his rage, you were being lifted by the middle, and promptly tossed over Jack’s shoulder.

Air fled your lungs, your head pulsed—both from the swift movement and your consumption of what was likely too much alcohol. Jack’s hand stayed on you, keeping you steady as he carried you through the crowd, cutting through blots of people who all looked just as confused as you felt. Anger sparked then, fanned by embarrassment and anger and frustration.

Slamming your fists into Jack’s well-muscled back, you spewed profanities at him. “Put me down, asshole!” He didn’t. Kept walking, over the boardwalk and into the parking lot. Jackson’s 4Runner taunted you. “Jack, let me go! Jack!”

And he did. Your feet felt unfamiliar as he placed you down with little preempt. He steadied you before you could fall, kept a hand on your arm even after. Your heart felt pulled in a million directions, throat filling up with sand—fossilizing in your own skin, mortification sawing pieces off of your soul. Jack looked furious, pacing in front of you. His silver Mercedes gleamed in the moonlight.

“Bells—” He cut himself off. His throat bobbed, ran a hand through his already messed hair. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Your teeth bared. “Me? And what about you, barging into my night and accusing my date of being a criminal? The fuck is wrong with you, Jack?”

Jack laughed. Mocking, mean. You half-wanted to punch him, felt the itch in your fingers. “Oh, forgive me for trying to help you,” he hissed. “What if cops had busted the bonfire, huh? If they’d got you? Do I have to remind you that you’re twenty, Bells? That’s a felony.”

He was right, and you hated it. “But did you have to do all that? Jackson didn’t even give me the alcohol, why did you push him into the water?”

“I already said I don’t care who gave it to you,” Jack grunted, closing in on you. A step back, and you felt your back press into the cold metal of his car. “He was with you. He let you drink.”

You rolled your eyes, tried to muster up a semblance of control. “He doesn’t know my age, Jack.”

“Then he’s a fucking idiot.”

Scoffing, you shoved him away from you. “Oh, is he? Or were we just on a second date, one that you completely ruined! He’s never going to speak to me again, Jack, so thank you for that!”

Faintly, you wondered how you went from adoring Jack to despising him. Maybe it was always meant to be like this. There was a fine line between love and hate.

Eyes flashing, Jack rounded on you. “A second date you shouldn’t have been on,” he snapped. “I told you not to go.”

“New flash: you’re not my keeper,” you said, feeling the anger wane into something worse—fatigue. You didn’t want to fight. Fighting with Jack felt like fighting a part of yourself. “How’d you even find me? You guys were at the bar.”

Jack paused; he noticed your deflated shoulders, sullen face. “SnapMap,” is what he said. He didn’t expand, and you didn’t ask him to.

Silence felt like the worse fog—thick and impenetrable, falling over you like a suffocating blanket. You didn’t know what to say. What could you even say? Jack would never tell you why he was so upset, you didn’t want to ask—didn’t want to hear another made up story he’d spew just to tear apart the hope in your heart.

It hit you then that maybe Jack did love you—or care about you in some capacity, but he’d never admit it. Dancing in circles, a choreography that never ended, you’d never know what Jack truly wanted; didn’t know if he even did. Probably figured you’d screw it up, would ruin a friendship—his and yours, yours and Luke’s. It was a losing battle either way. Every word he uttered cut to the bone, because it was meant to. When the shift started, you didn’t know. Maybe when he realized you were not always going to kneel at his alter, when you tried to escape.

Maybe then he understood, and still avoided—lied, all to protect himself and his brother. He knew, you knew. One wanted, the other avoided. None of it ended well. Heaven was breakable, and he couldn’t dare threaten his own peace. Not even to have you.

You knew then where you stood.

“Why?”

He shook his head, chewed on his lip. “Don’t.”

“Please, Jack,” you whispered. “You owe me an explanation.”

Did he not believe in love? Had a girl hurt him? Was it really Luke, or something else? Why wouldn’t he just try?

“Bells, don’t.”

Your hand reached out. Hoping, praying—it brushed his shirt-clad chest. He didn’t move back, finally looked at you. “You owe it to me, at least. I’ll drop it, I’ll never ask again.”

“We’d just… we’d screw it up,” he managed out, the blue of his eyes richening into a navy. His eyes darted around your face. “I can’t…”

What did it matter anymore? Everything was being bared. All of it. Your fear disappeared into dust; the yearning for a conclusion to this twisted knot of a love died. Just like it always did with Jack—you’d want him, try to forget him, and fail. A never ending loop. But before there had been no chance, now—now you weren’t sure.

“Can’t what?”

Jack didn’t respond. He dug into his pocket. Grabbed his key. “Get in the car.”

The stark change of situation caught you cold. “What—?” You shook your head. You weren’t going to lose this opportunity. “Jack, no. Talk to me. Please.”

“Get in the fucking car.”

You didn’t budge for a moment, then finally, “Okay.”

The drive was silent, thick with awkwardness. What could you say? You’d been so close to coming clean, to finally—after five years—admitting everything. It seemed like Jack had too, but something stopped him. Something always stopped him. You wished you could pick his brain, lay it all out to see the moment he’d stopped seeing you as a ghost, as Luke’s high school best friend. All because you’d tried to move on, because you’d hoped for happiness beyond his black hole persona. But of course, he always managed to drag you back in.

“It’s not fair,” you muttered aloud, semi-an accident. Jack’s eyes snapped to you, the dark road rolling out in front of you.

He worked his jaw. Adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “What isn’t?”

“You,” you grunted, looking out the window. “I try to be happy, move on. You’ve never wanted me before, I didn’t think it would matter. But when I try, you turn it into World War III.”

Jack didn’t say anything. Barely even moved. You wanted to scream, to leap out of the car, if only to see if he’d care enough to come back for you.

“Why now, Jack? Why not before?” you whimpered. Alcohol made you pathetic, even more so than usual. “What changed?”

“Bells,” he warned, nostrils flaring.

“No,” you protested, swiveling your body his way. “I deserve an answer, Jack. Please.”

Silence still.

“Stop the car.”

Jack looked at you. Up and down, before his focus returned to the road. “No. Stop having a tantrum.”

That nearly sent you into a murderous rage. “Stop the car or I’m jumping out.”

Jack scoffed. “You’re not going to jump out of a moving car.”

You clicked off the lock. Fingers tested the handle. When you tore the door open, the alarm blared; wind whipped your arm as you gripped the door, the darkened road greeting your eyes. Thankfully, no one else was out this late. Jack grabbed you with his free hand, slammed on the breaks and veered off onto the side of the road, just beyond the dunes. Beachgrass surrounded the car, the distant buzz of crickets the only thing you could hear as Jack cursed at you. Unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door shut, Jack glared at you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped. You felt something akin to pride; he finally had a reaction to something. Cared enough to stop you.

“You won’t answer me,” you said, eyes darting around his face. The emergency interior lights of the car blinked into existence, lighting up your bodies. Jack’s face was flushed, eyes wild. “Please, just—”

“Fuck, stop saying that,” came Jack’s strangled plead, his head dropping.

You blinked at him. Confusion welled like a storm in your eyes. “What? Please?”

Silence. Jack’s head raised lazily, he looked distressed, mouth parted ever so slightly. A hand ran through his hair, mussed it more. “Fuck,” he cursed, low and gravely. “Luke is going to kill me.”

What was he on about? He looked like he was struggling, his hand gripping the steering wheel which such force his knuckles blanched. “What?”

“You’re his best friend,” Jack said. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “If I… Bells, please…”

You had no idea what to do. What to say. “Jack, what do you mean? You aren’t making any sense.”

“I want to fuck you,” he bit out, leveling you with a furious look, as if he hated himself for that very fact. “But I can’t. If Luke found out, he’d hate you, or me, or us both. I can’t risk that, Bells, I can’t.”

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. The very fact that he wanted to sleep with you sent you into a dizzy spell; normally, you would’ve wept with happiness at the sheer fact that Jack Hughes wanted you, in any capacity, but all you felt now was a resounding emptiness. He wanted to fuck you, to have you carnally, without anything attached. You loved him; not because he could give you brief pleasure, but because you knew how many freckles were on his back, how he drove with his left hand predominantly, how he quoted Camus but never actually read him.

It occurred to you then that this summer was different. Not because you were getting closure, or because Jack Hughes finally loved you back, but because you finally understood that the devotion you’d put in him for years should have been put in yourself.

You looked at Jack, and for once, didn’t feel that biting desire to touch him, to be wanted by him; now you knew you were, but for what? For once night, just to fade into obscurity? Either you had Jack entirely or not at all. You couldn’t tease yourself with a taste only to never be given the full experience. You didn’t think you’d survive the memory of it.

“I love you,” you said. Watched his reaction. The confession felt like the greatest heartbreak and the biggest relief.

He said nothing back.

And you weren’t heartbroken that he didn’t. You were relieved. Free.

[orchidniins]

Do you write for George? If so can we get some smut💋 Loved your first, btw!!!

Island Loving | George Clarke

Summary: You and George are away on holiday, enjoying your time together, but you two can't seem to keep your hands off of each other. Pairings: George Clarke x afab!Reader Warnings: Mature content, Smut, Fluff Word Count: 4.6k A/N: Anon, thanks for the request! This took me so long to write, like I had planned to get this out 2 days ago, but oh well. This is also my first attempt at writing smut so I apologize if it’s a bit awkward. Also, this was originally supposed to be maybe 2k words, but I got carried away. Hope you enjoy!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"You sure what I packed is enough?", you ask, rummaging through your closet, tossing clothes haphazardly in your attempt to pack for the hot climate.

"You've about packed the whole closet", George remarks, lounging on the edge of your bed. You shoot him a deadpan look as he continues, "We're only going to be there for three days, how many more clothes do you need?" he teases. "Didn't we just go shopping like a week ago?"

"Oh, piss off George," You playfully throw the shirt in your hand at him, hitting him square in the face, which earns a laugh from both of you. In that moment, a rush of gratitude floods over you for the amazing three months you've spent together. From spontaneous adventures to lazy Sundays in bed, every moment with George had felt like a dream and you truly felt like you were the luckiest girl.

You and George were friends before you started dating, and while you've been on group trips before, this would be the first time it's just the two of you. So when George surprised you with tickets to the Maldives for your birthday, excitement and anxiety swirled within you.

"You know what? I give up," you declare, throwing your hands up in defeat as you survey the chaotic scene in your closet.

As you start picking up the scattered clothing, George chuckles and joins in, the laughter lightening the mood. Despite the nagging feeling that you might have forgotten something, excitement bubbles within you at the thought of uninterrupted time with George. Both of you had been busy, making this getaway a much-needed break. And let's face it, having a shirtless George around all the time was a definite bonus.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with vibrant hues of orange and pink, you and George lounged in the pool, the cool water providing relief from the day's heat. Earlier, you had spent the day exploring the stunning beaches of the Maldives, George's laughter echoed through the air as you both raced each other along the shoreline, the warm tropical breeze tousling your hair.

It was late afternoon, as you relaxed in the pool, George's toned physique glistened in the fading sunlight, his abs defined and glistening with droplets of water. He looked effortlessly handsome, and you couldn't help but admire the way the sunlight danced across his chiseled features. Leaning back against the edge of the pool, you watched as George swam towards you, his crystal blue eyes locking with yours.

"You know," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "I could get used to this view." His words were accompanied by a playful grin, and you couldn't resist teasing him in return.

"Is that so?" you replied, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you swam closer to him, your heart racing with anticipation. George's gaze softened as he drew nearer.

"Are we still the only one's here?", you question, scanning the area. You had been the only ones around the pool for hours now; the last few people leaving over two hours ago. George's gaze doesn't falter though, remaining fixed on you.

George closes the distance between you, the gentle rippling of the water drawing your attention back to him. An inaudible gasp leaves you mouth at the sensation of a hard muscle pressing into the space between your thighs, sending a wave of heat surging through your body.

His hands find their way around your waist, pulling you irresistibly closer, while his lips hover just inches away from yours. Your fingers trace the contours of his toned chest, feeling the warmth emanating from his skin. The tension between you was palpable, each breath charged with desire as you both leaned in for a kiss, igniting a fiery passion that consumed you both in a haze of longing and heat.

The heat of the pool seemed to intensify as your lips move in perfect harmony, the throbbing sensation between your legs growing more intense with each passing second. Despite the empty pool area, the possibility of an unsuspecting guest or hotel staff member stumbling upon your heated makeout session added an exhilarating edge to the moment, igniting a daring boldness within you as you contemplated just how far you could push George.

You trail your hands down his chest, savoring the sensation of his hard physique beneath your fingertips. George responds with a bite to your bottom lip, eliciting a low moan from you.

Your right hand moves down to rest right at the hem of his swim trunks, frozen there for a moment as feel George's lips disconnect from yours and attach to your neck instead. He begins to roughly suck at the soft, supple skin at the crook of your neck, leaving a dark red mark in the process.

You continue to tease him, relishing in the reaction he was giving you. You feel yourself getting wetter at the sounds of the deep guttural groans that escape his lips as your fingertips brush over his clothed cock. His groans get louder as he feels the constricting cloth of his swim trunks rub against his erection.

Your palm rubs harder at the bulge in his trunks, driving George absolutely crazy, and he hadn't even gotten his cock out of his trunks yet. George's grip on your waist gets tighter, his nails slightly digging into your side, the slight pain makes you wince in pleasure.

With a smirk playing on your lips, you pull away, moving your hand away from his cock and placing your hands on his shoulders, pushing him away gently. Your flushed face betrays the mix of afternoon heat and the arousal coursing through your body.

George protests, his voice husky with desire, "Don't test me, love."

You look at him innocently, a mischievous glint in your eyes, "What are you talking about? It's getting late, and we have other things to do. Come on," you say, slightly moving back in the water.

You turn around and confidently walk to the ladder, pulling yourself out of the pool giving George an enticing view of your glistening skin and the curve of your ass in your skimpy bikini bottom. You make sure to look back at him over your shoulder as you grab your towel and walk off, completely unfazed, leaving George hard and needy in the pool.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The rest of the day had flown by quickly, and now the two of you were getting ready to go out for your birthday dinner. You were all but expecting George to get you back for the scene at the pool, but so far, nothing ha happened.

You stood in front of the mirror, applying the final touches to your makeup. You were absolutely in love with your look; You had on a midi-length blue silky dress, its low back and plunging neckline accentuated your figure exquisitely and the thin fabric was an absolute god send in the hot Maldives' climate.

Meanwhile, George leaned casually against the bathroom door frame, already dressed in a linen shirt and a pair of olive slacks. His intense gaze followed your every move. To him, you looked nothing short of a goddess, and he still couldn’t believe how the hell he had managed to pull you.

“You look stunning tonight Angel”, George says as he walks into the bathroom, coming to stand behind you. Your dress did not leave much room for the imagination, or a bra, and he couldn’t resist the urge to touch you. As great as that dress looked on you, he thought it would look even better pooled around your ankles.

“Thanks Georgie, ” you replied, leaning closer to the mirror, focused on your eyeliner.

As George’s hands come up to rest on your hips, you straighten up, your exposed back coming in contact with his firm chest. The proximity makes you aware of just how close he had gotten. You look into the mirror for a second, catching George’s eyes locked on yours, his eyes dark and filled with unbridled lust.

It was a look you knew all too well. That hungry look was all you needed to know that George was extremely horny right now and that was enough to send the blood rushing down to your bundle of nerves.

Whenever he got like this, he tried to get as close to you as humanly possible, craving any form of physical touch. And when he called you "Angel", you knew there would be no reasoning with the man, especially after that stunt you had pulled earlier today.

His hands start moving up and down your waist, sending shivers down your spine. Though you had no intention of missing your reservation (which was very hard to get, by the way), you still wanted to see what else you could possibly get away with.

You lean down again, this time to put on your lip liner, subtly pushing your hips back ever so slightly more than before. You become acutely aware of the growing hardness pressing against your ass and his grip on your hips becomes tighter, confirming your previous suspicion.

George leans forward, brushing your hair to the side, and starts to gently pepper kisses along your back, the sensation leaving a delightful tingle through your body.

You stand up again, pretending to go through your makeup bag, doing your best to maintain a neutral expression on your face. Suddenly, you hear George let out a low chuckle from behind you. He leans down and whispers in your ear, "I know what you're doing," before placing a a few kisses behind your ear.

As George's warm breath tickles your ear, a delightful shiver courses through your body. He turns you around, your back pressing against the counter, his intense gaze locking with yours. A charged silence fills the air, thick with anticipation and desire.

"You've been doing this all day," George murmurs, his voice heavy with want. "Be careful there angel. Don't tease me if you can't handle the consequences of your little game." Your heart races at his words. With a subtle smirk, you lean in closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you.

He takes hold of your chin, tilting it upwards, the warmth of your skin under his fingertips sending a jolt of electricity through his body. You meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes, your voice dripping with playful defiance as you taunt, "Oh, and what consequences might those be, Georgie?" Your hand rises, fingertips lightly brushing the flesh revealed by the unbuttoned shirt, teasing your boyfriend further.

You run your hands down his clothed abs, settling right above the hem of trousers. But before you could move down any further, he places his hand over yours, halting your movements. "Well, let's just say," he begins, guiding your hand to place it on the counter next to you while you grip his shoulder with your other hand "keep testing me and you might just find out."

A surge of eagerness courses through you at his words, and you playfully roll your eyes, trying to mask the effect he has on you. "Is that a promise or a threat?" you challenge, though your heart races with excitement.

With a devilish grin, George leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. "Why don't you stick around and find out?" he murmurs, the air between you crackling with tension.

"I'd love to, but we have a dinner to get to," you say, slowly pushing at his chest, not wanting George to get his way so easily. But then, As George pulls you closer by the waist, your breath hitches, your back arching as you grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself. "Nice try." Before you can protest, he closes the distance between you, his lips engulfing you in an intense kiss, fueled by the tension building throughout the day.

He hoists you up onto the counter, his movements assertive yet gentle, as he deepens the kiss. You feel his tongue slip into your mouth and your hands move up to tug at his hair. You feel George's low groan reverberating through the kiss, adding to the intensity of the moment, all thoughts of dinner slipping away from your mind.

His lips travelled down to your neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses along the sensitive skin, each kiss only intensifying the need to want his lips someplace else. He kisses the hickey he had left earlier that day, sucking a little extra hard on the already sore skin. A moan louder than you intended left you lips and you could feel the bastard smirk against your skin.

His hands bunched up your dress, almost hiking it up to your waist, as George dug his fingers into the soft exposed flesh of your things. His fingertips traced a slow antagonizing path towards the place you needed him the most. As his fingers brushed against the fabric of your panties, he remarks with with a smirk, "Already soaking wet, are we?", The mere friction through your underwear was enough to weaken you, turning you into putty in his hands.

You hum in response, bucking your hips forward, craving more friction and pressure against your aching core. “Slow down there angel, I haven't even gotten started with you yet." he says in a low voice.

George gently lifts you up and slides your panties down to your ankles, taking them off and throwing them to the side, the cool air now hitting your exposed cunt. Suddenly, George's hands grip tightly behind yours knees, spreading your legs wider, pushing you back, your back now hitting the sink. "Fuck," you gasp, as he starts kissing his way closer and closer to your core. Each kiss and bite on the skin of your inner thighs intensifies the anticipation, making you wetter than you already were.

George's gaze fixates on your glistening wet cunt, his pants getting tighter just at the sight. With a hungry determination, his fingers spread apart your slick folds, "George…fuck," you moan as his tongue licks one long stroke up your throbbing clit, your entire body shivers involuntarily.

His tongue dives into you swollen clit, nipping and sucking at your sensitive core, sending jolts of ecstasy through your body, absolutely wrecking you with just his mouth. He flattens his tongue, expertly lapping at your folds, alternating with rough sucking motions. The sensation ignites intense pleasure throughout your body, and the friction of his beard against your clit sends electrifying waves coursing through you. As you throw your head back in pleasure, your hands glide down the collar of his shirt to grasp onto his back, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his shoulders, eliciting a low moan from George.

The lewd sounds of him absolutely devouring your pussy mix in with your gasping breaths filling the bathroom with an intoxicating symphony of desire.

"I-I…" you manage to gasp, your voice shaky as you struggle to form a coherent sentence. Your body trembles from the relentless jabs of his skilled tongue against your clit.

"Can't hear you love," George's murmurs from between your thighs, the vibrations causing a delicious hum to resonate through your folds, intensifying the pleasure pulsing within you.

"God, George! I'm so close," you stare down at him, utterly aroused by the sheer amount of power that this man had over you. You're dangerously close to the edge, feeling the impending release of your orgasm ready to spill over at any moment.

He could feel your legs trembling beneath his fingers. The dirty noises spilling out of you pretty mouth only pushed George to continue abusing your cunt. As he listens to you writhe and moan in desperate need, it's not enough to simply pleasure you with his tongue anymore; he wants more. He wanted to make sure you were fucked out properly, especially after the ordeal you had put him through.

With one final lick to your clit, he pulls away, leaving your pussy trembling. George then places his arms on the counter on either side of you, leaning in to meet you at eye level. You stare at him panting, cheeks flushed and a dumbfounded look on your face. "George.." you whined his name at the loss of contact, the cool air once again hits your now neglected cunt.

"Alright then, angel, get yourself fixed up", he says, his voice dripping with playful authority as he points in the direction he tossed your panties. "We have a reservation to get to." With a teasing smirk, he walks off into the bedroom. "Go on, finish getting ready, I'm waiting.", his words hang in the air, leaving you in a state of both frustration and arousal. There was an ache in your core that could only be satisfied by his touch.

You contemplate for a second, weighing if your pride was worth the sexual frustration for the rest of the night. It didn't take you long to make the decision, "Oh for fucks sakes George", you exclaim, your annoyance evident as you roll your eyes and scream out in frustration, "Get back in here, you wanker!" You wait for a moment, anticipation building, before George came back into view, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as he stands with his arms crossed over his chest.

"That's not how this is gonna work angel," George's words send a shiver down your spine, "If you want it, beg." the command in his voice igniting a fiery need within you. Pushing yourself off the counter, your legs shake as you step onto the cold bathroom floor. George watches you with a proud smirk, his eyes gleaming with want.

You slowly pad over to him, feeling the intensity of his gaze as you approach. Meeting him just outside the bathroom, you reach out, placing a hand on his chest, your fingers brushing lightly against his skin as you look up at him with hooded eyes. "George, please…" you begin, your voice thick with desire, but he remains silent, waiting for more.

"George, please… fuck me," you plead, your words dripping with longing as you meet his gaze. The air thick with tension between you two.

Your desperation draws a satisfied smirk to his face. He would have loved hearing you beg for longer, reveling in the power it gave him over you. However, the undeniable arousal stirring in his pants demanded immediate attention, and at this point, he couldn't resist the urge to simply lose himself in the act of fucking you.

George's lips attach to yours in a sense of urgency. He grabs onto your waist as he pushes you against the wall. "Jump," George says. Without hesitation, you obediently wrap your legs around him, your body responding instinctively to his dominant tone. His hands slide beneath your ass, supporting you effortlessly as he kneads your flesh. The kiss is raw and primal. Your hands instinctively come around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer.

The strap of your dress slips off in the heat of the moment. George seizes the opportunity, pushing the dress further down, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the room. A soft gasp escapes your lips at the sudden exposure, sending a thrill through your body.

His hands trail up to cup one of your tits, giving it a firm squeeze. George attaches his hot mouth to your bare breast, swirling his tongue around the nipple. You moan in response, your back arching instinctively as you press your tit into his face, craving more of his intoxicating touch.

"George…" you gasp between heated kisses, "I need you right now." With a sense of urgency, you unbutton his shirt. As his shirt falls away, your hands freely roam his body, tracing the lines of his muscular form before settling on his large biceps, feeling their strength beneath your touch. George leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "You have no idea how much I've been craving you all day" he murmurs, his voice filled with hunger.

"Just fuck me already," you plead, starting to get more and more impatient. With a swift motion, George gathers you in his arms, carrying you effortlessly to the bed.

George lowers you down on the edge of the bed, your lips still locked in a fervent kiss. He reluctantly beaks away, feeling your lips chasing his, not ready to break your kiss just yet.

With a tender touch, he assists you in removing your dress, which had become bunched up around your waist. He steps back a bit as he begins to unbuckle his belt, you eagerly help him, your fingers unbuttoning his pants and discarding them to the side, leaving him clad only in his boxers.

Your eyes can't help but wander to the bulge straining against the fabric, his cock hard and throbbing with desire, a visible wet spot on his boxers from the precum. With a soft moan, you find yourself unable to resist reaching out to trace the outline of his arousal, your touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through his body.

He nudges you back slightly, and you eagerly comply, crawling further onto the bed, the desire to have him close reaching its peak. As you sit up on your arms, you take a moment to admire him, your eyes locking in a silent exchange filled with mutual appreciation and desire. George's gaze shamelessly roams your naked body, his admiration evident in every lingering glance.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on Y/N," George says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. But to you, he was the epitome of beauty itself. In the dimly lit bedroom, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the windows, George looked like a Greek god, his sculpted abs, broad chest and shoulders, and thick, toned legs rendered him utterly irresistible. While it wasn't the first time you had seen him naked, it never ceased to amaze you just how perfect he truly was.

With his eyes locked on yours, George takes his boxers off, his hard cock springing out, finally free from its confines. The tip red and glistening with precum. He takes it in his hand and gives it a few good pumps. George then strides over to his open suitcase, retrieving a condom with a sense of relief that he had packed a whole box. He rips open the packet and slides it onto his length.

With a hungry gaze, he crawls onto the bed, making his way over to you. With a firm yet gentle touch, he pushes your legs apart, settling himself between them, ready to indulge in the passion that awaits.

He rubs the tip of his cock along your soaking folds, "George", you moan out at the sensation, hands digging into his biceps, urging him closer. George's mouth trails along your collarbone, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses that send tingles of pleasure courses through your body.

Without further warning, George slams into you in one powerful thrust, eliciting a strangled groan from your lips as euphoric bliss floods your senses. As he bottoms out inside you, pausing momentarily to let you adjust to his girth, a wave of pleasure washes over you. Even though he hadn't started moving yet, you already felt your orgasm on the brink of spilling over.

George grabs ahold of your hips, his grip firm as he presses your body against the mattress, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The pace of his movements drives you crazy, your mind consumed with the overwhelming sensation of him inside you. "Holy shit, George," you moan out, the intensity of the moment turning you into a trembling, moaning mess.

Hearing his name on your lips sends George into a frenzy, his own desire matching yours as he speeds up his pace, each movement becoming more urgent, more primal. Your hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles turning white from the force of your grip as you surrender to the pleasure that consumes you both.

One of your legs instinctively wraps around his waist, drawing him closer to you as your hands come up to his back, pulling him close. You revel in the feeling of his weight pressing against you. As he thrusts faster against you, your whimpering moans fill the room.

"Fuck, you feel so good, Y/N," George moans, his voice laced with lust. "You take me so well, such a good girl." he moans. His words have you involuntarily clenching around him. The sensation elicits a groan from George, the pleasure of your tightness driving him closer to the edge as well.

The sensation builds with every thrust of his hips, each movement edging you towards your orgasm. "George, I'm going to c-cum, shit," you moan, the words escaping your lips in a breathless plea. Despite your impending release, his thrusts don't cease, his intensity driving you wild.

You can't think straight anymore, lost in the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you. "Fuck, please, I can't take it anymore… I’m so close," you whimper, pulling closer to the blissful release that only George can provide.

Your voice quickly begins chanting his name along with broken moans, intermingled with George's own broken groans as his thrusts start to become sloppier, signaling that he too was teetering on the edge.

Every muscle in your body tenses, your back arching as you're overwhelmed by your impending release. "Fuck, George, you feel so good inside me… George, ahh!!" you cry out, your release a raw moan as your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, leaving you seeing stars.

George continues his relentless pace, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. As your climax peaks, George follows closely behind, his release filling the condom with warmth as he screams out your name in pure pleasure, "Shit, Y/N!" The room fills up with a mixture of your moans as you both come down from your highs.

With that, George collapses over you, balancing his weight on his arms to ensure he doesn't crush you. Both of your bodies are covered in sweat, chests heaving against each other. His face nuzzles into your neck, and for a moment, you both stay quiet, just listening to the pounding of his heart—a melody to your ears.

You're the first to break the silence. "I should tease you more often," you say with a playful grin.

George pushes up to look at you, a playful smile dancing on his lips as he replies, "Don't even think about it, love." With a gentle motion, he pulls out of you and lands next to you.

With a contented sigh, George pulls you onto his chest, his arms wrapping around your shoulders, his hand gently playing with your hair. "Did you have a good birthday love?" he asks softly.

You look up at him and smile, "Yes, I did, Georgie. Thank you" you reply, placing a peck on his chest, feeling warmth spread through your heart as he sweetly kisses you on your forehead.

"Well, there's no way that we are going to be able to make it to our reservation," you laugh, acknowledging the obvious.

George chuckles in agreement, then asks, "Room service?"

You look at him and nod, "Room service."

The two of you spend the rest of your evening cuddling and enjoying your dinner overlooking the water from the outdoor seating area of your villa. The soft glow of the moonlight casts a romantic ambiance over the scene, creating a perfect backdrop for your special evening, knowing that you couldn't have asked for a more perfect birthday with a more perfect man.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: God, I suck at endings. I've been so stressed at work recently and all I can think about is going on vacation, it's all my brain let me write about. Also, Thank you to everyone who has been sending me requests, I'm absolutely loving all the ideas, keep em' coming!

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Requests are currently open!! Or just drop in for a chat! 😊

[hatekawa]

Your art is so good and I really like your style! I was wondering, how do you draw backgrounds so well?

You probably mean that one background in the most recent part of the 3 months au comic which the making of was quite of a journey so im gonna explain it step by step

step 1. Pretend that you know what you're doing and practice (for example this background that I drew over a year ago for RinRee's comic "Broken Bonds" (the characters were drawn by her)), gain some experience

step 2. Get a minecraft reference (if you suck at perspective like me)

step 3. fail miserably

step 4. get more references

step 5. figure out what you did wrong, study (for ex. your references), practice some more (i cant show because my practice were other backgrounds for the 3 months au comic)

in my case what i did wrong was lack of warm up (the last time i drew an actual background was few months ago which is WAY TOO LONG), making it not look like an actual train and in general making the room look too organized and empty. Mikey is a chaotic and artistic soul so it's obvious that he'd have a mess in his room (it's important to think about what a character would have in their room, ex. art supplies, sticky notes/stickers, junk, posters etc)

step 6. try again

BONUS: I genuinely enjoy making backgrounds, so it's easier for me to stay patient and pay the attention to them that they need! :]

[pogueswrld]

*•.¸♡ make up sex ♡¸.•*

pairing: fred weasley x fem!plus-sized!reader

summary: Freddie talks too much, and his girlfriend is exhausting all the ways she knows to shut him up. Softly, of course.

warnings: smut🦢!1!1!1!1! there's plot and fluff, and everyone's of age ofc, although it is hinted that reader is still in Hogwarts, kinda sub!Fred top!reader, like he's whining and panting and begging and shit (bites lip) ANYWAY, dick riding hehe, no usage of y/n.

note: it is 2:59 pm on a Friday, let's see how fast I write this shit. note 0.2: Okay so it's 5:54 pm on the same day, I think I'm done. This isn't edited, but it took me 3 hours to write ����

He was still talking. Why, in the name of Merlin, was he still talking?

Dating Fed Weasley is fun, there's no denying that, but Good Heavens isn't that a boy a handful. Both literary and figurative. He's got a wide imagination, a never-squelching desire for knowledge, and a big heart. That is a dangerous combination for a somewhat intelligent and never-quiet man.

She's a saint, his girlfriend, and Ginny made a point to always express that to her. "How do you put up with that all the time?" Gesturing to Fred, who was using his hands in elaborate motions as he went on his fourth rant of the morning on the same subject to George. She'd only shrug, lips engulfing another spoonful of whatever ice cream the girls were sharing. "In one ear and out the other darling."

Not to say that she hates it, or that it bothers her- quite the opposite actually. Fred's excited and hyper personality is what made him so interesting to her, it was what drew her to him in the first place. She enjoys listening to him rant, even about the most random things -he stopped her the other day and explained in great detail how penguins mate and how once the female accepts the male's proposing gestures, they're together for life- and she adores it.

Yes, it sure can be a bit much at times, but she wouldn't change it for the world. Imagine loving a man who was as boring and dry as his older brother, Percy? She would have to jump out of Ginny's bedroom window!

Today was her first day back in the Burrow from Hogwarts for summer break, and she was exhausted, to say the least. She was up from dawn, finishing up the last bits of her packing before leaving for the train station with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. And because she's a good friend, she made sure each of her friends made it to their transportation safely before she and Ron were picked up by Fred and George.

In the car, Ron opened the untameable can of worms by mentioning Bill who was staying over at the Burrow for the summer as well, taking a couple of months' worth of vacation away from the dragons and such. That was the spark Fred needed to blast off into a hundred rants one after the other.

He spoke about seeing Bill again, which is understandable, he hasn't been home in years. He spoke about the dragons, which led to his excited mention of his favorites and how he's going to ask Bill how it was training them. Then he turned to Quidditch training, and even though both him and George had left Hogwarts a year or so ago, the both of them still found time to play the game as a side hobby. After that was all done, George gave her and Ron and update on the shop, and Fred went on and on about all kinds of new candies and flavors and combinations they were working on to add to the store by the beginning of next year.

She was understandably tired by the time the Burrow came into view. And as much as she adores her boyfriend, she needed him to shut the fuck up for twenty minutes. But he's so sweet, and his eyes light up when talking, and he gets this beautiful energy surrounding him when he does it that she doesn't have the nerve to ask him to be silent for a bit. So she excuses herself and tries to bury her body under the covers of his bed.

But he finds her there, and he reports to her that dinner is ready, and that Bill is here, and that she looks so gorgeous on his bed, and that there's a strange animal in the backyard, and that Ginny tried to curse the bathroom when he went in to use it, and that he doesn't understand why she'd do that, and that George is out in the garage, and that-

She jolts up on his bed, her eyes twitching as she stares at him. He looks so beautiful, but he's talking too damn much. She cups his face, and he goes silent and stares at her with wide eyes.

"Wha'?" He mumbled, his lips squished together as she squeezed his cheeks.

"You talk too much, ya' know that?" She said, her thumb slightly caressing the apples of his cheeks.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, and tilts his head ever so slightly. "Do' it bothe' yo'?"

She giggles breathlessly and lets go of his face before pressing her lips tightly against his. "Not all the time, but times like today..." She rests her forehead against his and sighs, "It can be a lot, and I need you to read the room and tone it down a little bit, d'ya think you can do that for me?"

He stares, something in his gaze changes, and he nods. "Of course, baby. Whateva' you want."

Great. Now she feels bad. She sighs and pushes past the blankets swallowing her to sit up on her knees. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. "I love you, truly love you, and I don't mean to be mean to you, and you know I love it when you ramble, but I'm really overwhelmed today, darling. I'm sorry."

Fred wraps his arms around her waist in return, hugging her tightly. It's true that he can't always read the room, and now that he's no longer attending school he's got much more free time on his hands than he knows what to do with. It takes him a couple days to be able to read his girlfriend's body language like he used to once she's home from school, and he feels terrible that he was one of the reasons for making her feel so incredibly overwhelmed. He also feels slightly ashamed of his non-stop rambling all day.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, mumbling something into her skin that made her shiver and giggle away from him. "Stop," she breathes in a giggle, "It tickles."

He chuckles, his hands squeezing at the skin of her waist as he stares at her dreamily. "I said, I'm sorry I made you feel overwhelmed, I promise to try and do better."

She grins at him, so brilliantly, that he can't help but lean down and capture her lips in a soaring kiss. "I love you." He mumbles against her lips, and she smiles while trying to kiss him back. "C'mon now, love, let's go have dinner."

Her eyes darken; her pupils widen, and she smiles that mischievous grin that he adores so much, and he groans while throwing his head back. He knows exactly what is on her mind.

"I have a better idea." She whispers, giggling as she throws herself into his lap and kisses him with such force that she's pushing him down on his bed. He yelps, his hands traveling to the bed and her waist, holding on to her for stability. Bubbling heat travels across his body through her kiss, and he sighs when her cold fingertips trace down his arms, sending goosebumps across his body.

Her kisses transfer from his lips to the sides of his mouth, his cheeks, down his jawline, until she's pampering open-mouthed kisses across his neck like stardust.

He sighs, his eyes closed and his head thrown back on the pillow. "Please," He breathed, a low whine undertoning his voice. She shivers above him, her teeth grazing his skin in a teasing bite.

She's always hated the effect his voice has on her.

"Please what, darling?"

He whines. It's low, for her ears only, it's a barely-there breath, but his mouth is right next to her ear and she hears him loud and clear. Her panties dampen almost immediately.

"Please touch me," He whispers. His hands gripped tightly to her thighs. He knows better than to roam her body without permission. She pulls back slightly, blinking up at him with a soft smile and long lashes. "But I am touching you, Freddie."

He knows this game. This cruel, cruel game she adores to play. He whines in pretentious of hating his role, but his hips buck, and his cock twitches underneath the fabrics of his boxers and trousers.

He slowly traces one of his hands from her thighs to her palm before letting her fingers rest on his aching cock. He guides her hands to gently rub him through his clothes and he lets out a breath when her fingers squeeze around him. "Touch me there." He gasps.

She entertains him, allowing him to set the pace and buck into her hold. He releases deep breaths and low whines, stuttering moans every time she tightens her grip around him. She can feel herself getting wetter by the second, how his eyes are shut desperately, his teeth bite down on his bottom lip, and her name is gasped out of his throat with every other movement. It makes her feel powerful, it makes her entire being vibrate.

"That's enough." She mumbles, pulling her hand out of his grasp and bathing in his complaining whines as she pulls off her shirt. He blinks up at her, watching her boobs bounce in the push-up bra she's wearing before she unhooks it and slides it off her shoulders. He blinks again and swallows whatever drool and saliva has gathered in his mouth, causing his Adam's apple to pop along with the action. She smiles at the sight and quickly bends down to leave a swift kiss on it.

"Take off your shirt." She commands him, and he does so without hesitation, throwing the garment somewhere on the floor of the room he shares with his twin brother. He watches her hands intensely as she teases him by running her thumb on the inside of her trouser's elastic, before slowly pulling the item down and off. He groans at the sight of his favorite panties on her; a partially lacey red thong that settles up between her butt cheeks. She always told him how uncomfortable it made her, but the look on his face when he saw it on her made every second she spent wearing it worth it.

"You're trying to kill me, love?" He groans, daring himself to take a dangerous leap and push his thumb against the damp cloth, pushing down on where he knows her clit hides. He glances up at her, watching the way her lips part and her mouth hangs open at his action.

"And what am I to tell George when he asks? Death by a red thong?"

He grins up at her, picking up the speed at which he's rubbing on her bud of nerves. "Only if you're the one wearing it."

She shudders, forcefully holding herself back from grinding against his thumb. Instead, she grips his wrist and pushes it away from her. She hooks two fingers on each side of his trousers and boxers before meeting his eyes, watching as he licks his lips and nods before pulling the clothing items down his hips and legs.

His cock bounces out from underneath the fabric happily, it smacks against his lower abdomen and she giggles at the sight of precum beads rolling down his slit. He whines, throwing his arm on his face to cover the embarrassing blush that matched his hair color. "Don't laugh at me, why're you so mean to me today?"

Her giggle grows louder, and she leans down to push his arm off his face. "I never intend on being mean to you, my darling, you just bring it out of me. I'm sorry." She mumbles as she meets his gaze, her hand cupping one side of his face and he leans towards her touch. "Don't hide from me, yeah?"

He nods.

"Good boy."

He whines, his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw drops when her fingers wrap around him again, but her thumb is collecting his precum before spreading it down his length before she works a steady rhythm going up and down. His whines slowly turn into moans. His noises were so heavenly that she could swear her wetness was flowing through the fabric of her thong and onto the skin of her thighs.

She sees his muscles contracting and she stops, removing her hand from him altogether. He opens his eyes, blinking up at her in confusion as a noise of complaint slips out of his throat. But he swallows it back up when he sees her push her thong to the side and spread her folds before sitting on his length, and she grinds back and forth on him without actually allowing him access to her.

He groans, throwing his head back. She's coating him in her juices and there's a delicious squelching noise coming from between them and it's driving him insane. He sucks air into his lungs through clenched teeth and shudders when she allows a single moan to slip through her parted lips.

Suddenly, he's engulfed in her warmth and he hisses. His hands grip tightly to her thighs, hips, and any plump skin he can find. He squeezes her, hissing, and pants until he's sheathed completely inside of her. "Slow down," He gasps, "Slow- slow down, slow down, slow down." His voice turns from low breaths to almost high-pitched whines, and she leans down and captures his lips in a silencing kiss.

"Need you to lay here and keep your pretty mouth shut, darling, can you do that? Can you stay quiet for me so your family doesn't hear us fucking?" He whines, hips bucking into her warm cunt causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head as he nods mindlessly. "Yes, yes, yes. I'll be quiet. Fuck- please, baby, please fuck me."

She giggles at his desperate whines, and slowly rocks her hips back and forth, just enough movement to send pleasure jolts but not enough to get them going. She was testing the waters, trying to see how loud he could get without giving him much of anything.

Fred was losing his mind, he could feel her walls clamp down on him every time she moved back, and he could feel himself nudging against her feel-good spot every time she moved forward. Her wetness made a mess out of both of them, making it easy to slide into her and pick up the pace.

He arched his back slightly, just enough to hint at her to go faster. Because she was starting to feel frustrated, she obliged. She switched from grinding down on him to bouncing, her knees and hips working overtime to not make a noise every time her ass cheeks met his thighs.

She's now moaning, leaning down to muffle her noises by his neck or breathe them directly into his ear. Fred's eyes roll to the back of his head every time, and his hands grab onto the fat of her hips to help her.

"I-" She gasps, pushing herself upwards, clamping down on him tightly before forcing deep thrusts with her movement. "I'm gonna cum." She whimpers, and her legs begin to shake and fail her. Fred let out a loud breath that turned into a whimper before pushing himself up and, with a tight hold of her hips, forced her up and down his cock.

"Wa- wanna feel you. Wanna feel you gush around me. Give it to me, please." He whines, his words muffled into her temple, his eyes closed as her walls flutter around him, her body shivering against him and her lips part in long whines. One of his hands sneaked in between them, and his thumb drew quick circles around her clit, just enough to electrify her over the edge.

She freezes up, squeezes down on him and Fred is gone. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly down on him, the repeated squeeze of her walls stimulated him over the edge and they were shaking through their highs together. Her hands were buried in his hair, his hands holding onto her hips, while their lips interlocked in an overflowing kiss.

A few seconds later, their mouths parted as they gasped for air, holding onto one another as their highs dwindled. He traced random shapes on her bare back while she scratched at his scalp in a way she knew he loved.

He was the first to pull back, looking up at her with nothing but love and adoration. He tilts his head and grins, "Do you still want to go down for dinner?"

She laughs, heartily and loudly out of his arms and back onto the bed. "If you'll be going downstairs for a plate, get me one with you. There's no way I can look your mum in the eye after this."

[spiderfunkz]

heyy could you do a peter parker blurb based on him asking you out on the last day of school? i love ur writing btw

✧ LOVE ON A LAST DAY.

summary : someone has a pretty crush on you!

word count : 0,7k

contains : fluff, fem!reader, super cutesy stuff.

a/n : next month i'll be graduating so this prompt is actually perfect omg omg, thank u for requesting anon i hope u like this !!! 🤭 i used the word 'smile' so much in this i apologize

"hey, peter!"

you waved cheerfully,

it was the last day of school. the final bell just rang and everyone is running out of the building yelling, cheering, crying, and smiling. papers were scattered, pens fell out of backpacks, shirts were signed, and flowers were exchanged.

you were going to hangout with your friends but that's when you spot peter at the end of the hall. hair messy, backpack full, his hands were in his pocket, he looked very nervous.

but you weren't going to leave him alone like that, it's been a while since you two have catched up.

you have been friends since middle-school, but as friends do, they drift apart, though you've never lost that spark with peter. you loved his company & he loved yours.

"hi!" peter waved.

you catch up to him, "hey, i didn't see you anywhere today! you haven't gotten a chance to sign my jacket yet. here," you pass a marker.

"i saved you a spot to sign." he nods, signing it.

you smile, "aw, this looks perfect."

he smiles too, he seems to be very smiley every time he's around you.

sometimes he forgets that you can see how much he smiles when he's near you, or how you can see that he's clearly staring at you.

"what? do i have something on my face?" you rub your cheek,

"oh, no. no you don't, sorry."

"you sure?"

he nods.

"you're weirdly quiet. you okay? i'm still going to the same college as you if that's what you're worrying about," you giggle.

peter has always loved how easy you are to talk to. in a way that there's never awkward pauses between conversations, and how your smile makes everything feel so calm and nice.

"i know. i just, uh-" he fiddles with something in his pocket, "there's something i wanna say, if that's okay."

"yeah, why wouldn't it not be okay?"

he shakes his head, smiling.

he passes you a picture from his pocket along with a small flower he picked.

you take it, your hand softly brushing his hand for a second.

it was a picture he took 2 months ago. you remember the day very well.

it was hot, awfully hot for new york. there were no clouds, the skies were clear and everybody was talking about it. how eager they are to take a walk and how excited they are to enjoy time outside.

though you and peter wanted nothing more but to stay inside, but this doesn't happen everyday. so why not try your best to enjoy it?

you were at the park and just finished your 2nd cup of lemonade (it was peter's), peter brought his camera for memories. your hair kept sticking to your face and it didn't help that you were smiling a ton so it got in your lipgloss as well.

suddenly wind came and flew past you. the air felt cool for a second and your hair went all over your face, you still smiled though.

peter saw and took a picture immediately, the sun perfectly leaving a glow on your hair, also giving your lips a nice glow.

"did you just take a picture?" he quickly shook his head, "yes you did! let me see!" — "no! i know you're just gonna delete it."

you finally saw the picture. at the bottom you can see a handwritten note on it. a beautiful day with the most beautiful girl!

"peter, this is so cute. you- you took this?" you asked, he nods shyly.

you couldn't hide the fact that your face grew red. "i was wondering... if maybe the most beautiful girl in the world would like to maybe.. like to.. go out with me sometimes..?"

peter said, whispering the last few words, looking down at his shoes, the doodled converses you once drew on.

you smile, "i'd love to."

he looks up, shocked. "really?"

"yeah! i mean all of this coming from the most prettiest, talented, caring boy in the world? how could i say no?" you smile, teasingly.

peter smiles.

he thinks for a second before taking the small flower from your hands and tucking it behind your ear, "pretty." he says, stated actually.

"so are you going to walk me home now, most beautiful boy in the world?" you ask. he nods almost immediately, "absolutely, most perfect girl in the world."

you walk outside the building, your hand holding his.

"just so you know i'm gonna draw a big red heart around your signature on my jacket."

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

With Discretion - Part 2 **

Part 2 is here! We'll get to learn more about Harry's side of things and be exposed to a bit more of the mess Caleb is in, and of course...the reconnection of Y/N & Harry! I hope you guys like it! I think there will be a 3rd/final part to this fic:) Read Part 1 HERE & find my masterlist HERE.

Warnings: verbal argument, dirty talk, oral (f-receiving), hand job, p in v (unprotected), creampie, breast play, infidelity,

WC: 14.2K

… SIX MONTHS AGO …

When Harry saw your smiling face at the bar, asking him about some fictional business trip to Tokyo, his lips involuntarily turned up in a smile. He hadn’t forgotten about you because you had dropped a huge bomb on him when you revealed to him that his CFO was married. He didn’t care too much about his employees’ personal lives, but after learning that he started to notice how big of a flirt he was around the office. Those observations then led to him dedicating the occasional thought to you and how you might be fairing. He was pleased to see that you seemed to be doing well.

But there was also a part of him that felt sad for you . He thought that perhaps the knowledge of yet another lie Caleb had told you would weigh heavily on you and surely break you but he was surprised that as the night carried on you were the most composed out of your friends. You didn’t seem like you were upset in the slightest even as you drank, which was what usually drew the emotions out of people. You were having fun and singing and dancing, talking with everyone as if your life was a dream. Harry wanted to get in your head and see for himself what it was that you were thinking; he couldn’t stop looking at you…you were too beautiful to not draw his gaze so he kept looking until you were looking back just as much. And after an hour he was planted beside you, talking to you and flirting a bit and it didn’t seem to bother you. You were flirting back and he was having a lot of fun getting to know you. You were smart and kind and so much fun to be around! 

What he was enjoying the most was that you seemed to be on the same wavelength internally and that was rare for him to find. Harry was great at connecting with people on the surface, but it was special for him to meet someone who made him feel like they got him. And you seemed to get him really well, he could feel this pull…an attraction that he hadn’t felt to another person in far too long, and it was electrifying and it was keeping him on his toes. He knew that there was nothing he could do to fix your situation with Caleb, but he wanted to go out of his way and shower you with kindness and chivalry while he could and maybe something in your head would click and make you leave that sorry son of a bitch, Caleb. “Harry?” You said as you came up to him.

“Yeah?” He asked, placing a hand at the middle of your back as he leaned his ear down to your mouth.

“I think I’m gonna head out. Cecilia is way too drunk, I want to get her back to the hotel before she blacks out on me somewhere and I can’t do anything about it.” You explained, “But thank you for including us tonight, it was so kind of you!”

“S’not a problem! And look, I have a car waiting around the block, I can help you take Cecilia to her hotel. Are you also staying there?”

“Yeah, we all are! But don’t worry about it! Stay and enjoy, have fun!” You assured him.

“Don’t know how much fun I can have after you’re gone, love.” He flirted and you smiled bashfully and looked away for a moment.

“Sure, sure…”

“I’m serious and also about taking you guys! I’ll feel better knowing I left you both safe and sound, alright? Please, s’no bother at all.” He said over the music and you sighed.

“OK, alright. I really do appreciate it, Harry.” You said with gratitude drenching your expression.

“Not a problem. Alright, let’s get to it.” He said as you started to get your things together.

Of course, there was a bit of traffic, even at 1am, and he watched as you ran your fingers through the top of your friend’s hair before gently massaging her scalp after she had laid down in your lap. He wanted to feel you like that; to be close to you and to smell your perfume and feel your fingers in his hair as he dozed off. 

He continued talking to you, this time asking if you worked or if you had any projects you did in your spare time. And well, he learned that you ran your own event planning company, you had two masters degrees, one in Business Strategy & Leadership and the other in Finance & Accounting. You also enjoyed music, cooking, swimming, and traveling. Between the two of you, you had a lot in common, talking made the drive go by way too soon. But when you arrived at the hotel you two were in stitches as you tried to get Cecilia out of the car. 

“I wonder if they have a wheelchair? Or maybe they’ll let us use one of the little luggage carts the bell boys use?” You asked through your laughter and he sputtered out a laugh.

“Unlikely. I ummm, I’m positive I can carry her.” He said to you.

“Oh my god, no. You’ve done more than enough tonight, Harry-”

“Just let me show off a bit, alright Y/N?” He teased and you giggled.

“Don’t think you need to carry Ceclia for that, but alright…” you smirked and he chuckled. 

He was careful as he pulled her out of the car and well, he asked you to ensure the skirt of her dress wasn’t ridden up before you made your way inside. He noticed how friendly you were with the staff as well and that put a another good feeling about you in his chest. He wanted to know…to understand… to be able to rationalize Cal’s infidelity because from everything he had seen so far you were an angel in the flesh. Sure, some people were totally fake and had this dark side hidden within them. He’d fallen victim to that since he was young because of his family’s money and well, now his own money, so he could tell those people apart with ease now and if you were one of them he was none the wiser. 

Before he knew it you guys were in the lift and you were looking through your friend’s bag for her room key. You looked relieved to find it and then shared a story about how one time in university the “responsible friend” was given the room key but lost her purse at some bar, so you all had to wait to get a replacement at the front desk. However, they had all been quite drunk so it complicated a fairly simple plan and a few of them ended up blacked out in the hallway and you and another girl had to drag them into the room when you got the replacement key.

“Are you the put-together friend, then?” Harry asked and you giggled.

“After my undergrad, yes.” You said and he chuckled.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I was the only one who was going to grad school. I got into the Marshall School of Business on a really good scholarship, I couldn’t do anything to risk losing that. I had to have my wits about me at all times. The USC network is just so extensive, especially in LA, so I would probably run into another alumnus randomly at a taco bell at midnight. They’re very gossipy as well so while in school it’s good to just be on your best behavior.” You explained to him. 

But soon enough you were leaving Cecilia in her room and he just wasn’t ready to leave you yet. So he offered to take you up to your room. Yeah, he’d been thinking about possibly kissing you or more throughout the night because there was chemistry between the two of you. The electricity was buzzing and he wanted so badly to see what would come of all of that attraction in an intimate setting, but you were married…to his CFO nonetheless! And well, he just had to ask you about what the deal was between you and Caleb. And he was shocked to learn that you’d been married to him for seven years though because Caleb had never once mentioned a wife and had always brought other dates around for parties or work outings and he felt angry at Caleb now. He wanted to tell you that this one affair wasn’t the only one, but that wasn’t his business to share. But it was shocking to him…he didn’t know how you kept your composure when you knew about his infidelity…he mentioned something about getting revenge on Caleb and he got a bit worried when your expression changed, maybe he had pushed you too far? And he was awaiting your response.

“I mean…thankfully, I don’t think I need that validation from anyone else.” You explained. Harry’s lips turned up in a smile as soon as he heard the words leaving your mouth, “I know who I am and I am happy with who I am, in every way. And not to sound arrogant, but I know what I bring to the table as a partner and if that’s not enough for someone then… their loss.” You said with ease.

Harry was absolutely blown away. He felt like his world had come to a screeching halt at your response. If he didn’t already like you before, he did a whole heck of a lot more now. He’d never met a person more put together than you and it was like a breath of fresh air. He had done a lot of challenging and painful work on himself in therapy, so he often found that most people lacked in self-worth or had no self-awareness, but you did. You were at his level mentally and emotionally and in truth, he had struggled finding partners because there was never really anyone out there who seemed to be on his level as well. If you’d been on a date he would’ve proposed to you then and there. 

“You’re absolutely extraordinary.” He said without a single hint of inhibition. 

And well, next thing he knew you were kissing ardently and then he was making you come over and over, showing you exactly how you deserved to be loved on. He was showing you how he would love on you if he were your man. And just getting to sink into you…he hadn’t had an experience that pleasurable in years. He was infatuated with your body and how it reacted to his. He wanted to ask you what felt good because he needed to make sure that he was doing exactly what you liked so that you could get off with intent. And hearing his name dripping from your beautiful lips was otherworldly. Everything about you was perfect and he made sure that he was treating you as such. You definitely needed the fuck, but you needed his tenderness and romancing just a little bit more. You needed to feel appreciated and seen above all else and he was going to give that to you while it was his chance to. Because as much as he was enamored with every part of you and longed to get lost in you, he knew that this was a first and last. A mere fluke of luck in his insignificant existence on this earth.

After everything he did to you, you had passed out almost immediately after he had cleaned you up. You were tucked safely into his side, cheek smushed against his brawny chest. His right leg was tucked securely in-between yours and his hand was smoothing up and down your lower back and just a bit of your bum. He couldn’t sleep without experiencing you like this for a bit. He wanted to see your soft and delicate features up close without alarming you in anyway. He wanted to get to smell you long enough to figure out what that perfume you were wearing was. He wanted to imprint in his memory what your skin felt like bare against his. 

Harry was infatuated in a way he hadn’t been since he was 12 years old! He used to get sick to his stomach with adoration for another person and he felt it now, that everything was stirring up inside of him. He’d always felt things very deeply, but he hadn’t felt something so big in quite a while. It could be overwhelming to feel so much, to be so vulnerable all the time, he’d been hurt so often in his youth due to the heart he so proudly wore on his sleeve. So he learned to toughen up, mastered stoicism, and became the level-headed tycoon he was today. He taught himself discipline, routine, predictability…so that he wouldn’t ever be caught off guard again. But then, there’s always someone who’s just so perfectly honey-sweet that they get through the cracks. And you were exactly that. Even after your first meeting he thought of you often…another pretty picture that lived in the gallery of faces in his brain. But yours always stood out. He did hope he’d see you again, and it seemed that fate was on his side because there you were resting safely, with total trust in his arms…

The stoicism returned the following day because he didn’t want to risk perhaps being a toy in a game between you and Caleb…because if you asked he would be there for you again however you wanted him. He’d be at your beck and call if it’s what you wanted. But even still, you were kind and assured him that he was right, that this couldn’t happen again and that was that.

…ONE WEEK AGO …

  Harry had imagined that it would be a while before the impression you’d left on him would fully wear off…that he’d stop fantasizing about you eventually…but here he was, six months later and feeling his irritation swelling as he watched Caleb flirting a bit with Tamika, his intern. Tamika was great. She was the top undergraduate business student at NYU. And yes, Tamika was a beautiful young woman, but he had boundaries unlike some people, and she was also gay. Maybe Cal didn’t know that, or perhaps he didn’t care…after his encounters with Y/N he started to realize just how much of a flirt he was. But as long as people weren’t complaining or Cal wasn’t wreaking havoc amongst his employees there was nothing Harry could really reprimand him about and that kind of pissed him off.

“You’re crazy, Cal!” Tamika laughed as she came up to his office door and opened it up the rest of the way, “Give me just a second and then I’ll leave you guys to it.” She assured him. “Harry, Dr. Dopico’s assistant called, her meetings are running about an hour late. I called Dean Sundaram and he said he’s flexible to what you decide. So do you want me to push your dinner plans or reschedule the meeting with NYU?” She asked him.

“Depends on what Caleb’s here to tell me…” Harry said as he smiled at Cal. He had been working on landing this potentially huge account that would be the thing that pushed him into billionaire status by the end of the year. There was some suspense in the air, but when Caleb started to grin, Harry chuckled knowingly.

“We got it.” Caleb confirmed and Harry was elated. Tamika was screaming, jumping up and down because she had been involved in the investment proposal writing and service planning that was presented to this client. This was huge for her resume and CV for grad school. Harry liked hiring students because he felt it was important for them to really apply what they learned in class, like he had. His dad was a beast in business and now Harry was too and he wanted to give others the same opportunities to learn and grow in a real world setting. But more importantly, being a billionaire would help him to launch forth tons of charitable and educational projects around the globe, like the one he was meeting Dr. Dopico for. He wanted to do more and be able to help more people and now, he could do it at a scale that actually made a difference.They all hugged briefly in celebration of what this meant for each of them.

“I’ll push your dinner reservations and update your talking points for the meeting with Dr. Dopico.” Tamika said before hurrying out of his office. 

“Excellent job, Caleb! This is great news.” Harry was beaming despite his internal irritation towards his CFO. And then his smile dropped a bit as he wondered if Caleb would be sharing his big news with you tonight or someone else?

“Man, we all put in our piece. I’m glad we understood the client and them us, that’s what it came down to.” He smiled happily.

“Great work leading the team for this account though…ummm, I know I’m more reserved at work but I think this calls for a celebration with the team that made this possible.” Harry said, as his mind shot back to you. He wanted to see you.

“Oh no Harry, don’t worry about that-”

“No please, I insist! This is huge, I just want to properly thank you all for your dedication. Nothing wild, just a dinner? A nice formal one at my home up in Quogue, we can do it there. Everyone can bring a date and I mean, as you know, I have plenty of guest rooms if anyone gets a little too drunk, there’s room for everyone.” He said and Caleb smiled.

“If you’re really up for it I’m sure the team would really go for it.” Caleb assured.

“Cool. I’ll get something together tonight and send you guys an invitation. Plan for next Saturday, alright?” He said.

“Sounds good, thanks Harry.” Caleb said before heading out.

… PRESENT DAY …

Harry wanted to see you again, that’s why he had planned this dinner. He knew that the chances of Caleb bringing you tonight were next to none, but he just needed to take the shot in the dark because he was losing his mind thinking about you and not knowing. And maybe seeing you on your husband’s arm would be the thing to snap him out of this infatuation he had over you. Harry was a bit nervous as he had just run off for a moment to make a quick phone call to his dad that he’d been putting off for the last hour since he was awaiting Caleb’s arrival. He hoped to God he didn’t miss you making your entrance if Cal did bring you along.

“Yes dad, we have exclusivity. Alright…yes, bye.” Harry mumbled and hung up before shutting off his phone, no more work, he deserved to celebrate tonight.

“Mr. Hargrove has arrived.” Gerard came up to him informing him, like Harry had requested he do earlier.

“Oh, wonderful! Ummm…did he… bring anyone with him?” Harry asked and Gerard nodded, “Anyone you recognized?”

“No, but ummm, sir. He’s…married? He’s brought his wife.” He said and Harry couldn’t even suppress his smile.

“Are you sure?” He asked he asked with a pounding heart.

“Yes. He introduced her as such.” Gerard shrugged.

“Was she the most effortlessly beautiful woman you’d ever seen?” Harry asked, twinkles of adoration were already visible in his eyes.

“I couldn’t say…the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is my wife.” He said and Harry grinned.

“That’s really good, mate.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Gerard smiled timidly.

“Alright, I’ll go say hello.” Harry said and headed back to the large, bright dining room. He tried to be slow about it so that he could spot you first but you weren’t there. But he did see Caleb lingering near the bar, his eyes fixed on something else. He was alone, so he decided to approach him first. “Cal!” He called out to Caleb, who then turned quickly and immediately smiled. “It’s great to see you.” Harry stated with a bright, charismatic smile as he extended his hand to shake Caleb’s.

“Hey, likewise! Thanks for having us over.” He said as he shook Harry’s hand quickly. Harry smiled a bit brighter as he pulled his hand back, he didn’t miss the detail of Caleb thanking him for having “us” over. Maybe you were here. 

Harry was about to respond when a bright color in his peripheral vision diverged his attention from Caleb; he turned in it’s direction and he swore that the earth stood still as he saw you descending into the dining area. You were a vision. Your beauty and confidence commanded the attention of the room, he swore everyone grew silent as you looked around with a kind smile on your lips, eyes darting around to find a familiar face. Finally your eyes met his and he was fighting against every instinct that made him want to rush over to you with a smile so wide it hurt.

Harry felt the air being stolen from his lungs at the sight of you in that gorgeous gown and the way it framed your body. You looked sensational and his fingers were itching to get to touch your skin again. He longed to trace all of the spots that were exposed on you with his lips, kissing at you delicately and with reverie. He had no idea how he would be able to not just stare at you all evening long, it would certainly be a challenge. He was already shaking off the sinful thoughts he was having of you as you approached.

“Ah, perfect timing!” Caleb’s voice called him back down to reality, “Harry, this is Y/N, my wife. Sweetheart, this is Harry Styles, CEO of the firm.” Cal introduced you two. You were smiling up at him cooly, but he could see the sparkles in your eyes as they met his own once more. And oh…? Were you using the triangle method on him? Harry couldn’t help but gently bite down on his lip as his eyes glanced down to yours briefly.

“Mr. Styles, it’s wonderful to finally meet you.” You said to him as you extended your hand and he was gentle as he took your hand in his and gave it a shake.

“You as well, Y/N. Call me Harry, I insist.” He said with what he imagined was a polite smile, but to you he looked like a kid who was trying too hard to keep a secret to themselves. You wanted to hug him and it was almost cruel to have to pretend like you didn’t know of each other.

“Alright. Thank you, Harry.” You said and he smiled and nodded.

“Can I offer you guys a drink?” He asked and you were the first to nod.

“Please.” You said quietly, but with zeal.

*********

You nearly had a cardiac event when you saw that Harry was already with Caleb when you walked in. You were hoping to at least have something to hang on to prior to interacting with Harry. It excited you that he was so excited to see you, or so it seemed! You were just as thrilled to see him, even just feeling the warmth of his hand in yours made you start to spark up from the inside out. Your throat suddenly felt dry and you needed a drink, so you were quick to accept when he offered to head to the bar. 

“What can I get you, Harry?” The man at the bar asked with a smile.

“Just a whisky highball for me-”

“Make it two, please.” You spoke up and he glanced to you with a small smile.

“2 whisky highballs and for you, sir?” He asked Caleb.

“A scotch, neat.”

“Coming right up.” The guy said and turned to start on their drinks.

“Well it’s good to meet some fellow whisky lovers.” Harry said, sparking up some conversation. 

“Right! I got lucky with this one! Usually women can’t handle whisky.” Cal added and you saw how Cal’s mildly sexist statement made Harry furrow his brows a bit.

“I don’t think it’s so much a sex thing, it’s just the flavor is definitely one to train your palate for. Everyone struggles with it a bit at first.” Harry said and you nodded in agreement. “I mean, in my experience, women handle their liquor far better than any men I know.” Harry added and you smiled.

“I have to agree with Harry. Don’t see too many women forgetting to be decent human beings after a drink or two.” You said and Harry chuckled, but you could feel Cal’s unamused glance on you for a moment. “Well anyway, your house is gorgeous, by the way. Can’t wait to see it in the daylight.” You complimented and he nodded.

“Oh, so you two plan on staying tonight?” Harry asked with an arch in his eyebrows, his eyes quickly finding yours until Cal spoke up.

“Yeah, we’re staying. I want to let loose tonight and I do not trust her driving my Quattroporte.” Cal chuckled and you let out a fake chuckle, but Harry didn’t miss as you rolled your eyes.

“Well I hope you’ll enjoy the stay. I mean, if you’re early risers, the sunrise is definitely something you don’t want to miss.” Harry said, his eyes meeting yours briefly. 

“Here is the scotch neat.” The bartender said and when Caleb leaned forward to grab his drink you and Harry smiled at each other briefly, “And the two whisky highballs.” He added, causing you both to turn and also reach for your drinks. You all took a moment to try your drinks and you hummed.

“This is excellent. Thank you so much.” You complimented the bar tender.

“Thank you, enjoy.” He said before turning around to clean his area a bit.

“Well, now I know who to invite to the whisky bars.” Harry said with a charming smile and Cal chuckled.

“Definitely! We do know some pretty great ones in the city, don’t we sweetheart?” He turned to you and you nodded.

“Yeah. Haven’t been in a while but I’m sure they’re still stand up places.” You assured.

“What do you mean? We just went right around easter!” Cal looked at you incredulously and you knew that wasn’t true because he hadn’t been around consistently until the summer.

“Maybe you’ve gone with someone else more recently.” You said to him and his eyebrows furrowed, “A client or a friend perhaps, we haven’t gone there together since…at least a year ago.” You pointed out and he frowned a bit.

“Oh, you’re right…yeah, I think I went with someone else. Sorry, sweets.” He said and you smiled and shook your head.

“S’alright. You deal with lots of people so the outings blur together, I’m sure.” You assured him and he chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah. Ummm, I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, can you hold this for me?” Caleb asked you and you nodded.

“Sure.”

“When I’m back I’ll introduce you to everyone else.” He assured before he excused himself to you and Harry and then hurried off. As soon as he was gone you put down Cal’s drink on the bar top as you felt the tension between you and Harry becoming palpable. You turned around to say something to him when another woman walked up to both of you.

“Excuse me, Harry?” She said and he turned his attention to the young woman who had walked up.

“Hey, Tamika! Glad you could make it!” He greeted her happily with a hug. She then proceeded to introduce her girlfriend, Giselle to Harry as well.

“This place is incredible, thank you so much for inviting us.” Giselle said and he nodded with a smile.

“Of course, happy to have you guys here! Ummm, let me also introduce you guys to Y/N, Cal is her husband.” He said and Tamika’s eyes widened.

“Oh wow! I didn’t know Cal had gotten married. Congratulations! I’m Tamika, this is my girlfriend, Giselle.” She greeted and you smiled.

“Oh yeah, thanks! Nice to meet you Tamika and Giselle.” You said, extending a hand to one and then the other.

“Tamika is my intern/assistant. She’s the top business student at NYU and she’s just finishing up her undergrad.” Harry bragged and you smiled.

“Oh wow, congrats! Are you thinking about grad school?” You asked Tamika, who nodded.

“Yeah! Applications are due soon and I’m just trying to narrow down my options.” She explained to you.

“You know Y/N, Tamika is interested in USC…” Harry mentioned to you with a small, suggestive grin and your eyebrows arched up.

“Are you really?” You asked as you turned back to her and she nodded.

“Yeah, but it’s so competitive so I’m keeping my options open.” She explained.

“Well I ummm, I actually went to Marshall for my MS degrees. So I have connections, I still keep in touch with a lot of the faculty there. I can certainly put in a good word for you if you decide to apply.”

“Wait. Are you serious?” She asked with shock in her eyes and Giselle was just as shocked.

“Completely serious! I mean, if Harry’s working with you I’m sure it shows a lot of promise and potential. USC would be lucky to have you.” You said with a smile.

“Yes, she’ll take any help you can give her. I’m going there so please anything to help us reunite!” Giselle cut in and you all chuckled.

“I’ll give you one of my business cards before you leave, that way you can reach out to me when you apply. I’m sure I can set up a little meet and greet with someone on the admissions board.” You said to her.

“Wow, yes I would love that. Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, of course. What about you Giselle?” You asked her and then she went on to explain that she was actually also going to USC but to the Thornton School of Music, it was her first semester. This gave them all something more to talk about before Cal returned. Caleb seemed to have good rapport with Tamika, which aided in allowing you and Harry to continue stealing glances of each other as they spoke. 

But soon enough Caleb was excusing you both from Harry’s side and taking you around introducing you to a few others. He wasn’t really flaunting you like he said he wanted to though, something was off with him. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but he seemed distracted even, leaving you to do most of the talking to his coworkers while he just darted his eyes around the room. It was hard to focus on the people you were meeting when you could feel Harry’s gaze burning into you from across the room. It was making it hard to focus on the people who kept asking you questions about yourself and trying to hide their surprise as Caleb introduced you as his wife. Obviously, you knew about Cal omitting this information from Harry and from Gerard earlier, but it was getting to you the more it happened.

“Hey Cal, nice to see you!”

“Hey Amir! Likewise.” He said shaking the man’s hand.

“Thanks. This is my son, Louay. He is interested in business so I brought him along to show him how we reap the rewards of it.” He chuckled, smiling at the young man with pride. “And who’s this lovely lady on your arm?” Amir asked and Cal turned to you for a moment.

“Uh, this is my wife, Y/N.” He said and you politely extended your hand out to him. But Amir’s eyes rounded out as his eyebrows arched up in surprise.

“Oh wow! I had no idea you were married!” He said with a bright smile and shook your hand. You felt Cal’s wary gaze on you but just continued smiling at Amir as you greeted him and then his son. But Cal knew you well enough to notice the anger and frustration that were radiating off of you. You made some small talk with Amir and Louay and were interrupted by one of the staff announcing that dinner was about to be served. You glanced towards the table and your eyes met Harry’s who quickly glanced at the seats nearest to where you were before looking back at you. He wanted to sit beside you…but how? Unless you or him sat in the middle…which just wasn’t going to work.

“Cal, project leader, come here man.” Harry called and Cal grabbed your hand and pulled you along. You bit your lip as you thought of something and then slipped your hand out of his and he turned around and your eyes met.

“What’s the matter?” He asked and you gave him a look of irritation.

“Why’re your coworkers so shocked to meet me, Cal?” He sighed.

“Not now, Y/N.” He said lowly, pleading eyes on yours as you crossed your arms stubbornly.

“I don’t want to sit beside you.” You said and he sighed.

“Fine.” He accepted before he turned around to walk the few feet to the table, but you sped ahead of him.

“You can sit beside him, Harry.” You said and then took a seat beside a woman named Andrea. She’d been a bit shy, but you felt better knowing Harry was beside you and Tamika was settling in across from you. As soon as he scooted his chair in you felt his thigh brushing up against yours; it was a tight fit around the table, so you were all a bit close. Your lips twitched up in a smile when he glanced at you quickly. He spread his legs further and you nudged at him a bit, trying to keep a straight face. Caleb was distracted talking to the person on his left and so Harry reached off to the side, as if he was going to grab his chair, but then you felt his fingers just graze the outside of your thigh. The slit on your dress leaving your skin exposed and available for him to touch. You let out a breathy giggle and his lips twitched up in a small grin. When you glanced up at him through your lashes he bit his lip for a second.

“I wish I could have you as my main course.” He whispered with a smirk and then placed his hands back on the tabletop. Your body tingled as a chill passed through you, you wished that you could touch him at the very least. Every now and again your thighs would brush, but he was mostly talking to Caleb and you were just focused on your food because if you looked at Harry you would end up doing something stupid in front of all these people.

When the first course was brought in you smiled excitedly at just how beautiful and delicious the starter looked. It was a miso citrus salad, your mouth watered at the fresh scent emanating from the dish. And then you felt a gaze on you and you quickly looked up and your eyes met with the girl sitting at Tamika’s left, as soon as your eyes met her gaze flitted off to something else. Over and over it was happening, you kept making awkward eye contact with her. Finally you got the chance to look at her while something else had her attention; you wanted to see if maybe you knew each other from somewhere. you observed the slightly pained look in her eyes and the small frown on her lips. So you followed her line of sight and stopped at Harry, but he was leaned down eating his food. And when you leaned back a bit and saw Cal mirroring this woman’s expression the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. That was her! His mistress. Suddenly you lost your grip on your fork and it clanked against the porcelain plate loudly several times, causing everyone to look at you. You blinked a few times and forced a smile.

“Sorry, butter fingers.” You excused and everyone chuckled before they resumed their previous actions. You look down at your plate of food and suddenly felt disgusted by the fish and vegetables that had been unbelievably appetizing just moments before. Harry cleared his throat and you turned to him.

“Are you alright?” He asked lowly

“I ummm…I think so. I just…” you started and then just shook your head, “Never mind.” You smiled and forced yourself to have a bit more food. Thankfully, there was a nice break between the main course and dessert and so you took that time to go to the room and grab a business card for Tamika from your purse. You were just putting your wallet away when you heard the bedroom door open. You had hoped it was Harry, but when you heard the door click shut behind you quietly you knew it was Caleb. 

“Are you upset at me?” His voice was soft and had a hint of caution to it.

“You’ve been seeing someone else and she’s here tonight, isn’t she?” You said instead as you turned around, hands on your hips. You just wanted to know how much there was to it. You were ready to face this right now.

“Y/N-”

“She’s the only person you haven’t introduced me to, but she keeps looking at me from across the table and I saw how you two looked at each other-”

“She didn’t know I was married.” He said immediately and a sardonic smile came onto your lips.

“No one did! Apparently.” You said with irritation as you threw your hands up in irritation and he came closer to you.

“Look, we can be rational about this-”

“I think I’m responding pretty rationally to this situation, Caleb. Everyone thinks we’re fucking newly weds when I’ve given almost a decade of my life to you! We’ve been married seven years and you’ve been hiding it from people for three years?! Do you have any idea how this makes me feel? Why did you even ask me come tonight?” You questioned him and his lips dropped into a small frown. 

Maybe you didn’t love him like before, but having to hear over and over that no one knew about you was embarrassing and it was shaking your confidence to some extent. Why had he hidden your marriage so vehemently from everyone? Was it really just to be able to fuck around or was he ashamed of you for some reason? The not knowing was clawing at you horribly.

“I’m sorry. I just like to keep my personal life as separate as possible from my work and-”

“OK, that’s complete bullshit! Why would you do something as personal as fucking a coworker if you wanted to keep the personal and professional separate?” You challenged his rationale and he ran his hand down his face, a physical sign of his stress weighing him down.

“Y/N, I don’t think this is the time and place to talk about this.” He said cooly.

“Then I’d like to leave so we can discuss this at home.” You said with finality.

“I don’t want to go yet, Y/N. And I know I’m in no position to ask this of you, but I’d like to get my thoughts together before we talk about this. It’s…it’s a lot.” He said and you rolled your lips together as you felt your eyes starting to well up a bit as your simmering anger started to reach its boiling point.

“Fine.” You said softly and just walked past him and out of the bedroom. 

You closed the door behind you and just took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly to calm down. You hated so much that you cried when you were angry, but the emotion was just not one you felt often enough to know how to deal with it properly. You squeezed your eyes shut for a second to will the frustration away, but you were absolutely humiliated. It was believable and even excusable for Harry not to have known Cal was married. One typically does not to talk about their personal business with their boss, but to blatantly lie to everyone else he worked with and communicated with day to day? That was something else. Once you were calm enough you made your way back to the dining area. As soon as you sat down you felt the woman from across the table looking at you. You just glanced up to her, catching her gaze for a few seconds and she went beet red before looking away. 

You could only imagine how she felt having to see you there. He lied to her too and by the looks of it, she hadn’t taken it well. Suddenly everything started falling into place…the reason for why two months ago out of the blue Cal was home more and loving on you even more and spending time with you…something had happened between them and ruined the relationship, if he had been with her this entire time. He could’ve been with multiple people to your knowledge.

“Is everything alright?” Harry’s voice pulled you from your thoughts and you turned your head to him and shook your head.

“Is there another room I can stay in tonight? Or even just a motel or something nearby? I don’t want to be here anymore, Harry. I need to be as far away from Cal as possible.” You said softly and he frowned.

“Uh yeah, there are bedrooms upstairs as well. But I can find out about a motel nearby if you’d prefer that.” He offered. You saw Cal returning to the room from your peripherals.

“I’ll let you know.” You said before you turned back to the table and grabbed your cocktail and drank the remainder in one go. 

Shortly after, dessert was being placed before you all. It was a gorgeous tiramisu, one of your favorites, but you only picked at it for a bit, not really in the mood to eat or to chat with anyone any more. Harry would’ve probably talked to you, but Cal was engaged in a never-ending conversation with Harry so that he could constantly keep an eye on you; you could feel Cal’s scrutinous gaze on you. You just felt like the odd one out and you wanted this night to be over. 

Even when you all migrated to a lounge room to chat you noticed that he had tried and failed several times to approach this other woman. After about the third attempt Cal just started ordering drinks with reckless abandon and eventually headed off with a couple others to the billiard room, or at least that’s what you heard from their loud and drunken conversation. Harry was busy bidding farewell to those who were heading home for the night. It looked like Tamika was getting ready to go and you’d been meaning to chat with her again, but the woman from across the table had been with her the whole time. But as of now, she was nowhere to be found so you approached Tamika and Giselle before she returned from wherever she had gone to.

“Are you guys heading off as well?” You asked the two.

“Yeah. I’ve got a big exam on Monday that I need to study for tomorrow.” Tamika explained.

“Oh OK, best of luck! Ummm here’s my card though. If you decide to apply to Marshall let me know and like I said earlier, I’d be happy to help you network with the recruiters and faculty.” You reaffirmed.

“That’s just really kind of you, Y/N. Thank you so much. If there’s anything I can do to repay you for this-”

“Oh my gosh, no Tamika! If you decide to go there just keep doing your very best, that’s all.” You said, “Of course if only to make me look good…” You joked with a giggle, despite your low mood, and Tamika and Giselle laughed along with you.

“You’re too sweet. I hope Cal brings you around more!” She said and you just nodded and smiled, “If he doesn’t I’ll badger him about it.” She added with a playfully menacing tone and you just chuckled.

“You guys are all great, I’m glad I was able to come along tonight.” You said genuinely. You were about to ask them how far their drive was when Tamika lit up a bit.

“Dani!” Tamika called out as she looked past you and waved at the person she was calling over. You turned around and saw that, that was the woman from across the table and she looked petrified, “Come here!” Tamika insisted and you swallowed thickly as she made her way over.  Her eyes darted around the room, probably trying to find Caleb, but he was drunk and playing pool in another room of the house. When she was finally within reach, Tamika dragged her into her side, “Dani, this is Y/N. She’s Caleb’s wife!” She informed her excitedly and you saw in real time how Dani’s face started to pale as she swallowed thickly, which could only mean one thing. You looked around, trying to act quickly before she puked all over you, her friends, and herself. Finally, you saw a garbage can near the entrance of the room and just grabbed her hand and dragged her over to it. You had just put it in her hands when she started to throw up. You looked away, starting to feel disgusted at the sounds of her heaving and Tamika and Giselle rushed over to her.

“Wow, good save.” Giselle said to you and you just nodded as you turned to Giselle with a relieved expression.

“Yeah, I’d know that look anywhere.” You said as Tamika rubbed over her friend’s back as she just spat the taste out of her mouth. Dani’s tearful eyes met yours and you just offered her a sympathetic smile. Poor woman.

“Thank you.” She rasped out and you nodded.

“Yeah, of course.” You assured her. Just then Harry walked in and his eyes widened a bit upon seeing you four huddled up at the entrance of the room. 

“Harry, have you got some mouth wash and pepto or something for Dani? She got sick to her stomach.” Tamika explained to him and he nodded.

“Yeah, of course! Follow me.” He said and they went off with him, trash can and all.

“If her boyfriend comes back can you tell him we’ll meet him in the foyer?” Giselle asked you and you nodded.

“Yeah, of course.” You said with a smile and a nod.

“Thank you. And it was so nice to meet you, thank you for being so kind.” Giselle said as she hugged you briefly.

“It’s no problem at all! Drive safe.” You said and she thanked you as she hurried off to catch up with Tamika. It was just moments later when the man who had been sitting beside the person you now knew as Dani, came into the room and glanced around. “You’re Dani’s boyfriend?” You asked him and he nodded. “She had something to take care of with Harry and Tamika, they told me to tell you that they will meet you in the foyer.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks.” He smiled before hurrying out of the room. 

There were just a few more people in the room you were in, but they were laughing and chatting amongst themselves, so you were once again the odd one out. You decided to head off to the bedroom you’d been given and just get the toiletries you had unpacked back into your bag so that you could be ready to relocate. A few light knocks on the door caught your attention and you hurried over to open it. You saw Gerard standing there with a polite smile.

“Good evening, Miss. Mr. Styles informed me that you wanted to change your sleeping arrangements?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes, please.” You said and he nodded.

“Certainly. He mentioned that you wanted a bit of space. I can offer you a bedroom upstairs? I called the motels in town and they are all booked out unfortunately.” He explained.

“Upstairs is just fine.” You assured him with a smile, “Thank you, Gerard.” 

“Not a problem. Can I take your bag for you?”

“Oh no, it’s alright. Just show me where to go.”

“No Miss, I insist.” He said and you smiled at him as you grabbed your overnight bag and handed it to him and he smiled, “Wonderful, follow me.” He said and you followed him through the house. You could hear the absurd commotion from the billiard room and just rolled your eyes as you followed Gerard upstairs. The lights on the sconces were dimmed, but you could still see how beautiful everything was. “I’m going to give you the room that Mr. and Mrs. Styles stay in when they visit from England.” He informed you, “You’ll have a balcony and a lovely view of the water from it.”

“Oh wow, thank you. I hear the sunrises are to die for.” You hummed.

“They certainly are captivating.” He agreed with you. He opened up the door when you finally arrived and he switched on the lights. Your eyes widened at the beautiful, modern set up of the room. You swore you had seen this room on Pinterest or something. A king sized bed, all to yourself? Yes, please. You thought as you smiled.

“This is amazing.” You said as you looked around. Gerard had just set your bag down on the little bench in front of the bed.

“I’m glad it’s to your satisfaction. Now the lights can be controlled with this remote.” He explained, showing it to you and then placing it back down on the bench. “And your bathroom is through there.” He said pointing to a door in the far right of the bedroom, “There’s a small cabinet by the shower that contains extra towels and washcloths, you can just leave them in the hamper if you use anything. The closet is in there as well. And the balcony is just through those doors.” He said pointing to the double glass doors that were partially covered by some long, floor length curtains.

“Perfect, thank you.” 

“My pleasure. And, I am sorry if I contributed to any unpleasantness between you and Mr. Hargrove. I had no intent to stir up-”

“Oh my god, no.” you pouted at him in endearment, “Don’t feel bad about a thing, Gerard. Frankly it’s…been a long time coming. It wasn’t because of you.” You assured him, “I appreciate your help tonight.” You smiled at him.

“Is there anything else I can do for you before I head out for the night?” He asked.

“Can you just thank Harry for me? Just for, indulging me.” You said with a small smile.

“Certainly.” He nodded.

“Thank you, again for all your help. Good night.” You smiled at him.

“Good night, Miss.” he said before hurrying out of the room. 

Once you were alone you dimmed down the bedroom lights before drawing the heavy curtains and slipping out onto the balcony. You shivered for a few seconds as you adjusted to the slightly cooler temperature outside as you leaned against the railing of the balcony. The lack of light from the bedroom helped you see the starry sky even better. And you sighed in relief as you could hear the waves crashing into the shore not too far off in the distance. The peace and silence in your brain lasted for just a few minutes.

You just couldn’t stop thinking about Dani now…how she literally threw up at the sight of you. She probably felt awful and guilty and you wished you could just tell her that you weren’t angry at her. That you didn’t blame her. She had been deceived just as much as you had. What was frustrating for you was that you were completely in the dark about Cal. You thought you knew the man you were married to, but evidently that wasn’t the case. It didn’t even matter what you lost at this point, there was no way of moving past something like this. Your marriage was through…both of you had cheated now, so what was the point? 

The sound of a door closing startled you and you whipped around quickly and saw Harry leaning back on the bedroom door. He offered you a timid smile as he started to walk across the space, but it was contagious to see his smile widening the closer he came. He met you out on the balcony and as soon as he was before you he sighed in relief and grabbed your hands.

“You look absolutely divine. You’re exquisite. Literal perfection.” He hummed softly, “Been dying to tell you all night.” He complimented you. His voice was soft as he spoke to you and you smiled at him coyly.

“Thank you.” Was all you could say as every other thought in your head vanished as you stood before him. Finally.

“Want to talk about what happened?” He asked you.

“I probably should.” You said and he smiled.

“I’ll listen if you want me to.” He assured you and you sighed.

“So obviously no one knew Cal was married and like…I don’t know, it got to me. Like I just feel humiliated a bit. Like…I don’t know if he did it on purpose to just, push me over the edge? But like, how did he expect people to react? And I think…well, I know now actually, that he’s been sleeping with some woman named Dani.” Harry looked surprised, “I don’t know for how long or if there’s more. She’d been avoiding me all night and Tamika introduced us and she just…got sick. I mean, she obviously didn’t know he was married and god, she probably feels like the worst person, you know?” You said with a frown. “Like how could he do that to someone? Poor woman.” You shook your head.

“So you’re upset that the other woman is feeling guilty.” He asked with a small smile and you shrugged.

“I know how insane that makes me sound but like…she didn’t know about me. That’s not fair to her. And like, I’ve at least known for a bit and have made peace with it…but who knows how she found out that she was the other woman. From the way he’s been acting I’d say it wasn’t good.”

“So what now?” Harry asked. You knew that his question was a lot more complex than how he posed it. There were subliminal implications that were being addressed without him having to ask them directly and it made you feel just a little bit better about all of this. He still cared. Whether his interest in you was platonic, solely carnal, or even romantic, he was asking because he wanted to know what this could mean for you two.

“Cal said he wants to talk about it after he gathers his thoughts because “it’s a lot”, or something like that.” You responded as you turned back to the vast darkness ahead of you.

“Do you think he wants to end it?” Harry asked cautiously.

“I have no idea, but I want to end it.” You said with certainty and well, Harry had no business feeling happy about that (selfishly, of course) but he remained composed with a slight furrow in his brow as he listened to you, “I mean, what’s the point of this sham of a marriage?” You asked through a sardonic laugh. “He’s been unfaithful for who knows how long, I’ve stopped letting myself love him and have also…committed adultery. Thank you very much for that, by the way.” You added with a teasing grin and a side glance, he smirked in response.

“Happy to be of service. By the way.” He replied haughtily and you both laughed softly. “So you…you want a divorce?” He asked to clarify and you nodded.

“I first thought about it after we spent the night together.” You shared, “I just…realized how much of my own heart had been out of it to like…go through with what we did and not feel remorse or anything close to it. But then he started trying again and so I took that card off of the table. But now that I’ve learned he’s been lying to everyone and living a double life I feel like I’m married to a stranger. Like who was I kidding? This has been over for a long time. So stupid…” You sighed in disappointment.

“You’re not stupid. A marriage is a huge commitment. Of course you’re going to try if you see him trying. But hey, now you’ve seen all the facets of the situation and you’ve made a choice for yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You responded softly.

“Are you…are you alright?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just…letting the reality of it all sink in.” You said before exhaling. The exhale felt cathartic, like all your troubles would be gone soon just like that little puff of air released from your lungs. The silence between you two was nice, only the sounds of the waves on the shore were detectable and it was perfect.

“Can I…hold you?” He asked, breaking the silence and you nodded up at him and he turned and stepped closer as he opened up his arms and you stepped into his embrace. You inhaled deeply as your head rested against his shoulder and his arms squeezed tight around your body, “What can I do to make you feel better?” He asked and you smiled.

“This.” You assured and he smiled, “This is perfect. I needed a hug after this shit show of a night.” You hummed and he smiled as he let his cheek rest atop of your head. A comfortable silence settled over you both before you spoke up.

“I’m sorry it sucked so much for you, but it was kind of perfect for me.” He shared and you smiled, “I threw this party just…hoping Cal would bring you along. It was a fucking long shot but he did!” he chuckled and you did as well, “And now you’re here and I couldn’t be more pleased.” He said happily. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I didn’t know you were throwing the party until we were about to arrive.” You confessed and he chuckled, “He had said it was with a few work friends, so I had accepted because I was just excited to meet some people Cal worked with. He told me to look sexy so he could "show me off”. When I found out about this being your party I was scared that you’d think I was just trying to seduce you by showing up like this.” You said and he chuckled.

“I know we don’t know each other that well, but I know that’s not how you are.” He said and you smiled.

“Yeah, definitely not.” You assured.

“You do look sensational though, you definitely met the mark.” He said and you chuckled a bit before you both just settled into the comfortable silence. He felt like a friend you’d known for ages. He was a person who you could be your authentic self around. It was rare to feel so safe with someone.

“Harry…do you think there’s any left over tiramisu?” You asked randomly, “S’my favorite dessert but I couldn’t really stomach mine when they served it.” You explained and you felt his body shake a bit as he chuckled.

“S’my favorite too so I know they made extra if only for me to take it home.” He responded, the smile he was wearing made evident by the tone of his voice. “Wanna get changed or get down there like this?” He asked.

“I think change first. Don’t want to risk getting the dress dirty…knowing me, I eat like a child.” You said and he chuckled as he gave you a bit harder of a squeeze before he started to let go.

“Alright then. I’ll change as well and ummm, I’ll come by and get you, yeah?”

“OK.” You smiled. You walked back in with him and left him at the bedroom door before he was off down the hall. You watched him until he turned around and gave you a final smile as he disappeared behind the last door down the hall. 

You proceeded to slip back into your own room and got your pajamas out of your bag. You also decided to get your makeup off while you were at it and were just toning your face when there were a few knocks on the door. You hurried over and opened it up to let him in.

“Just need to get my moisturizer on and then we can go.” You said and he nodded and followed you inside. He busied himself with closing up the balcony and just waiting for you at the foot of the bed. “Ready.” You said as you came out of the bathroom and he smiled and started guiding you down stairs. Upon making it down you guys could hear the muffled sounds of the others who had stayed in the billiard room. It was nearing 1am and they were drunk, so hopefully they passed out quickly. Harry guided you down a dark hallway before he pushed open a swinging door and switched on the lights. You had to blink a few times to adjust your vision, but then he switched on a warmer pair before getting the fluorescent ones off.

“God, I forget how bright these are.” He whinged and you giggled.

“This is like a proper restaurant kitchen.” You hummed as you looked around.

“Yeah, I usually use this home for holidays. Obviously, we don’t want to do the cooking then so we hire a chef for when we stay here. Or we do a lot of parties here as well, so again, it’s just convenient for how it’s used.” He explained as he headed over to the refrigerator and then he turned around quickly, “By “we” I mean my parents and other family.” He clarified and you chuckled.

“I figured. Gerard mentioned something to me about how the room he gave me is your parents’ favorite room to stay in or something?”

“Yeah.” He smiled and then looked through it to find the extra serving of the cake and he finally did and pulled it out. “Here we are.” He said and put it down on the counter before grabbing some forks, “Are we being civilized or eating from the container?” He inquired.

“Whatever you think is best. But be warned that I might feel like I need to eat it all if we have it in the container.” You joked and he chuckled.

“Plates it is…” he played along and you giggled as he just grabbed one from a nearby cabinet, “We can share.” He said as he came back over and you sighed as he started digging into the surface of the cake to break off a piece for you two.

“Fine…” you accepted dramatically and he smirked. Without even asking he just stopped and pulled his fork further back to make the slice larger, which caused you to laugh softly. “I was joking.” You clarified and his eyes drew away from his task and met yours knowingly.

“No you weren’t.” He said with a grin and you just laughed. Once he got that done he put the container back in the fridge and when he turned he found you already digging your fork into the cake. “Didn’t even have the decency to wait?” He scoffed jokingly and you grinned.

“It looks incredible.”

“Yet you wasted a perfectly good slice at dinner…” he quipped back and you groaned and tossed your head back dramatically.

“I’m sorry!” You croaked out and he laughed and instinctually reached his arm out to wrap it around you and pull you into him. You went with him easily and when you glanced up at him he was smiling down at you.

“It’s alright, I forgive you.” He said softly and your lips curled up in an easy smile.

“There’s like…a vibe between us right? Like I’m not delusional, right?” You asked and you saw him flush a bit but he nodded.

“Yeah, definitely.” He said and you giggled.

“To there being a vibe with us or that I’m delusional?” You asked and his smile widened as he realized what he’d said and he chuckled, his eyes darted away from yours briefly out of the nerves he felt tickling through his body. Then there they were again, those gorgeous green eyes meeting yours again. They were so vibrant despite his widened pupils, a tell tale sign of his attraction. You wondered how big your pupils were right now.

“The vibe.” He clarified meekly and you hummed.

“I don’t know, but it just feels like I’ve known you for a really long time. It’s really nice.” You said with a simple shrug.

“Maybe we’ve met in other lives.” He said quietly.

“That’d be pretty cool actually.” You responded with a pensive look on your face. “Am I allowed to kiss you?” You asked him and he instantly bit his lip as he nodded and started to lean down. You started to press up on your toes to meet him halfway. It felt extraordinary to feels his smooth, warm lips pressing into yours gently.

And when you pulled back the smack of your lips felt like it echoed and your eyes blinked open and then his did as well. This hungry look was exchanged between you, practically forcing you to kiss again. And again, and again, and again in quick little pecks. After the next one he just groaned and smeared his mouth against yours sloppily before pushing his tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the intensity at which he came into it. Your skin was littered in goosebumps and a delicious tingle shot down your spine to your toes and then flew back up to your core. You sighed in pleasant surprise as your pussy’s muscles tightened up and fluttered around absolutely nothing at all in response to his hands sliding up under your flowy pajama shirt, sliding up your back and then scratching down it with a bit of force.

Your hands fisted at his shirt almost as if the action tethered you to reality. You loved the place your mind went to when you were around him. Again, a feeling of safety came to mind and you kissed him back harder and reached for his arms and pushed them down to feel your bottom. As soon as he got there he took over, feeling groping, squeezing your butt like he’d wanted to all night. He also wanted to kiss that little sliver of your lower back that was peeking out of the cutout on the dress you wore. 

“Can I pick you up?” He mumbled and you nodded before huffing out a yes. He reached down to your thighs and picked you up before placing you on the counter. His hands were on your face holding you still as he licked into you slowly, savoring your taste just in case your paths didn’t cross for a while again. “Can I go down on you?” His deep voice rasped out, lips smearing against yours as he spoke into the kiss. Your widening smile interrupted your kiss, “What?”

“I’m just…so happy to hear you ask that. Been getting off to the memory of how fucking good you are at that. I came so many times I think I saw God.” You laughed softly and he grinned.

“Like that you think of me when you play with yourself. I do too.” He confessed. “One time I even…said your name when I was with someone else.” He said and you winced.

“Ouch…how’d they take it?”

“Not too good.” He chuckled, “When we slept together…it was way too good.” He said with a reminiscent grin.

“Yeah, like oddly perfect!”

“Right. Like you were made for me. We fit so well.” He said as one of his hands came off your face and rubbed over the crotch of your shorts quickly. You sighed and parted your legs further, giving him more access to your achingly needy pussy. “Do you have underwear on?” He asked and you shook your head. He smiled and slid his fingers into your shorts through the leg opening. He rubbed over your sticky and swollen crease before wedging his fingers into it and swirling around your clit in slow and steady circles. You exhaled slowly in satisfaction, grinding your hips against him, getting yourself even more wet for him, he loved hearing it almost as much as feeling it, “God you’re so fucking wet for me.” He smiled and you hummed.

“Mhmm…Ready for a taste?” You asked and he nodded, “Go on then.” You encouraged him and he kissed you once more before dragging your shorts down by the elastic band. You lifted your hips up to help him out and he just dropped them on the ground as he crouched down and spread you open wider before delving in without a second to waste. You moaned in satisfaction as his thick, warm tongue lapped over your sensitive clit, catching just at the top of your opening every time he licked up. Your toes curled and your fingers dug in his hair as the edge of your orgasm caught you by surprise, hitting you almost as quickly as a strike of lightening. “Oh fuck, don’t stop! Don’t stop! I’m going to…I’m going to come!” You gasped out as you pushed his head closer, you were desperate and impressed by just how quickly your yearning for him caused your undoing. Harry sped up his licks and after one, two, and three accurate and precise licks right to your throbbing little clit your thighs started to tremble and your breathing to hitch a few times before you just moaned out his name. He moaned into you, staying true to his mission as you ground your pussy against his face, drawing your orgasm out, shivering as he kept licking at your clit like that until you felt like you were on fire. You stopped breathing for several moments, the feeling stunning your existence into a pause. Harry’s breathy chuckles against you interrupted the pleasure.

“Breathe, baby.” He reminded and your inhaled sharply.

“Fuck keep going!” You demanded, he didn’t hesitate before delving back in, this time sucking at your clit until you were trembling again, moaning in ecstasy as that double orgasm swept you into an orgasmic oblivion. Your ears rung and your brows furrowed as those magnificent and addicting feelings coursed through every inch of your body. “Thank you! Fuck that’s so fucking good…” you praised and he hummed against you, making your tummy flutter as he started to reduce the intensity of his mouth on you as your orgasm started to dwindle. You swore there were little shocks randomly nipping at your legs and you started to massage his scalp after the hard grip you had on his silky hair. He kissed your clit before kissing your left thigh and pushing himself up to attach your lips together. You loved the taste of yourself on his tongue, it was erotic and made you feel so proud of yourself. “Mmm…wanna feel you inside me.” You mumbled and he sighed.

“Should we go upstairs? I don’t have a condom on me.” He muttered against your cheek before kissing you there.

“S’okay. Want it just like this, just you and me.” You said softly, your eyes flickered up to his so that he could clearly see your intent.

“Don’t tempt me like that, baby.” He shook his head with a devilish grin twitching his lips up to the left.

“M’serious! I got an IUD after I found out that Cal was cheating.” You shared and his eyebrows arched up.

“Oh…I mean, if you really want to. I don’t mind either way.” He assured you.

“I want it. Like really, really badly.” You grinned and he smiled.

“OK.” He stated decidedly. His lips pressed to yours once more and you started to tug at his shirt. He reared back to strip it from his body and he dropped it to the ground before reaching for the hem of yours. You raised your arms to aid him as he undressed you. He smiled and his hands went right to your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze and you chuckled as he groaned in excitement. “Sorry, I just fucking love your body. Been dying to touch you again.” He breathed out and you smiled. His hands then slid down to your hips as you reached for his sweats. You needed him now.

You tugged at the white ties that were fastening the bottoms to him more snuggly. Once they were untied you tugged down on them until they just dropped down his legs on their own. Your mouth watered as his thick cock fell forward, bouncing a few times from how heavy he was. You immediately brought your hand up and spit into it before wrapping it around his tip, playing with it as he moaned in pleasure. You stroked up and dragged his foreskin to the tip before stroking down and sliding it back away from his thick and leaking head. He filled you up so fucking good, it was too good to be true…

“Please fuck me, Harry.” You begged, inciting an absolutely feral response in him and he nodded before he pulled you back down to the ground, turned your around, and guided his tip to your entrance. He rubbed through your sopping folds, enjoying just how aroused you got for him, he pressed himself against your entrance and you moaned in anticipation of being stretched open around his enviable girth. Your eyes were screwed shut as you waited for him to push in. He started to surge forward, opening your little hole up with his ragingly stiff cock. Once he got about halfway he reached into your hair with one hand and grabbed you tight at your hip with the other as he plunged the rest of the way in hard. You both moaned, shrouded in ecstasy at the feeling of him being inside of you again. You’d both been waiting, dreaming, longing to be connected this way again. He pushed you down into the counter to properly bend you over and you gasped as your bare chest was smooshed into the tiramisu, the ceramic plate scraped against the counter from the collision.

“The cake!” You laughed quietly and he chuckled, but proceeded with thrusting into you and started increasing his pace.

“Fuck you feel so good!” He hummed in delight, relishing in the feeling of your slick walls creating a feeling of suction and pressure around his pulsating erection. He’d been dreaming of having you again and this felt better than the last time because now he knew that you wanted him just as badly. He shifted a bit and then grinned as he heard you gasp when he plunged right against your spot; he couldn’t forget that. He loved just how easily you’d fall apart in pleasure when you were stimulated there.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed as he started to quickly thrust into it, making your legs feel like jello. You reached down and found your clit and you started to rub, making your eyes rolled back as a satisfied smile curled onto your lips. Your fingers were a blur as you rubbed tight little circles against your clit and your tummy started to clench up and then inevitably your inner muscles and walls started to contract around Harry’s cock. He choked out a moan and squeezed your hips hard as he started to thrust harder, you were seeing stars now, “I’m about to come!” You warned and he groaned.

“Come on then, baby. Cream all over my big cock. Show me how fucking good we are together.” He grunted markedly and you moaned a bit too loudly but neither of you had a single fuck to give as his filthy talk pushed you over the edge. You smiled and dropped your head back against his shoulder as you started to come undone. He held you up as your legs became all wobbly beneath you with the aftershocks of your orgasm. He wasn’t slowing down just yet though, his thrusts were getting harder and more erratic; you were impressed by the strength he had. “I’m so fucking close…shit!” He hissed and you tightened up despite your sensitivity and he moaned deeply, “Fuck…I’m right there, baby!”

“Come inside me.” You suddenly requested and he groaned, “Please, Harry.” You keened and he swore he was imagining it.

“Yeah? Want me to finish inside your delicious little pussy?” He panted and you nodded.

“Please. Want it all inside! Need to feel you coming inside.” You begged and he panted heavily.

“Fuck, I’m…oh fuck, I’m coming!” He mumbled quickly before surging his hips forward and then tugging your hips back against him. He ground his cock into you as you felt him twitching with each rope of come he was unloading deep inside of you. Harry swore he was about to lose consciousness from how hard his orgasm hit him. He felt his knees trembling and one of his hands came up over yours on the counter, interlacing your fingers while simultaneously gripping to the counter for support. His deep moans were vibrating deep into your soul, or at least it felt that way as his body was smushed right against yours.

You could feel his warmth filling you up until you felt a bit dripping down your sticky folds. Harry caught his breath as he held himself in you for a few moments before slowly pulling out of you. “Oh shit, s’a lot.” He muttered quietly, “Hang on to the counter for a sec.” he instructed and you nodded as he hurried to grab a hand towel from the counter behind them. When he returned he dabbed at your entrance.

“I swear I’m in another dimension.” You mumbled and he chuckled.

“Push a little bit for me.” He instructed. You did as you were told and he ran the towel over your swollen and throbbing pussy again, the fibers of it tickling you just a bit. You then felt him drag it down your right inner thigh, before he sunk to the ground and cleaned whatever had dripped down to the floor. “Good to go.” He said softly as he pressed a kiss to the small of your back, to that spot he’d been dying to kiss ever since he saw you. 

He then got up and you turned around and he chuckled, your tits were certainly smeared over with mascarpone and coca powder. You shrieked as he lunged you onto the counter again and you grabbed the edge of it and squeezed as his lips found your already pebbled nipple and sucked it clean before licking over your supple breast, cleaning it of his favorite dessert. He hummed contently as he sucked a little mark against the the underside of it before moving over to the other one. Your fingers raked through his curls and you tugged a bit when he sucked at your nipple too harshly, pulling it into his mouth forcefully before biting down on it a bit until you giggled in slight discomfort until it dissolved into a moan and he smiled and popped off of it loudly. He chuckled and then kissed up your sternum, neck, jaw, and then your lips again. Your smile was sincere as he rubbed his forehead against yours a few times, making the moment feel a lot more intimate.

“Alright?” He asked you.

“Yeah, just still coming off it.” You assured him and he smiled.

“Good.” He hummed before closing his eyes and you did the same, just basking in the intimacy you shared until a thought crossed your mind.

“Once again I did not get my cake.” You sighed and he chuckled.

“Well you got something…” he joked and you sniggered, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you a new slice.” He assured you before planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Ummm…do you want to stay with me for a bit?” You asked timidly and he smiled.

“Definitely.” He confirmed.

So after getting dressed and getting another slice of the tiramisu, you were both making your way out of the kitchen quietly. You guys could still hear everyone else down the hall laughing and chatting animatedly, though you could tell they were all plastered. You made your way up the stairs and Harry dragged you down the hall to his bedroom, well it was more like a suite, so you cuddled up on to couch he had in front of the TV and you shared your cake as you watched Friends re-runs for a while.

“We should get you to bed.” You heard his voice through your drowsiness and yawned.

“Good idea.” You concurred, but you nuzzled closer to him instead of making a move to stand.

“Want me to carry you?” He asked and you smiled.

“If you really want to.”

“Yeah, come on then.” 

But after attempting and failing a few times because you both couldn’t stop laughing or making a serious attempt he just had you hop on piggy back. You leaned on his shoulder and held on tight as he walked you down the long hall and to the other bedroom. He walked you into the bathroom to brush your teeth and waited for you in the room. When you returned, a bit more awake now after dealing with the cold water, you cooed as he had turned down the bed for you. 

“Thank you, you’re too sweet.” You said caressing his cheek and he tutted.

“S’nothing. Get in.” He said and you did just that. The bed was as divine as it looked, you wanted one like this for yourself. He sat on the edge watching as you got comfy and once you were, you peered up to see him smiling down at you. Harry traced the high point of your cheekbone with his thumb, such a sweet and comforting gesture. 

“I ummm, I just want you to know that this isn’t just a sex thing to me.” He said quietly, “Like I’m not nice to you with the intent to fuck you. I like what I’ve seen of you so far and I just want to be there for you, you know? I want to get to know you. And I know things could get a bit complicated if you and Cal end things, so ummm we can just be friends until you resolve that if you want?” He asked.

“I think that would be wise.” You accepted. “I like you too and I also want to get to know more of you and I just don’t want to fall into something complex that could…hurt you while I’m already in the middle of this mess.” You said with a smile and he nodded.

“Sounds good. And I mean, I’m sure it’ll be hard even if your hearts aren’t in it anymore, so you call me when you need me, yeah?” He asked and you smiled.

“I will.” You assured and he smiled as he reached for the bedside table and handed over your phone so you could unlock it. He put his number in before setting it down on the bedside table again.

“There it is. I’m sorry it started out as a weird night, but I hope I made it a bit better for you.” He hummed and you giggled.

“That’s the understatement of the century, Harry.” You pointed out and he grinned bashfully.

“Don’t want to be too cocky, you know?” He said humbly and you shook your head with a grin. 

“Well yes, you made it better. Thank you again for everything tonight.” You expressed your gratitude.

“Course, love.” He said and kissed your lips quickly before making his way out of the room. 

You sighed and rolled onto your back with a big smile; you were completely enamored and taken by his way of being towards you. Of course, deep down you were a bit nervous about the big tell-all with Caleb, but you knew you were going to be alright after getting all of the information from him. There was nothing left to fight for with Caleb. Your heart was already drifting in another direction and you didn’t intend to do a single fucking thing about it.

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[rallentando1011]

hey so can I get a scenario with rottmnt Donnie where he keeps stealing his lovers purple stuff, he notices them not having purple stuff around anymore and one day they are like “yea so I don’t buy purple anymore. Too much stuff is disappearing. Hmmm I wonder where it keeps vanishing too? “ and they give him a knowing smirk?

Purple Habits Die Hard (rise Donnie x gn Reader)

(Hello! Thank you very much for the requests-I am really enjoying them and promise I’m working through them-

I am open to more requests, guidelines are HERE, and I’m not saying that I specifically would like writing some Donatello angst but yes I absolutely would-

Either way, I hope y’all enjoy!)

Word Count: 1082

You didn’t love him anymore. 

That was the only logical conclusion Donnie could reach.

Was he grasping at straws with that hypothesis? Likely. But the fact that there were even straws to grasp in the first place was enough to raise his suspicion.

Data point 1: You hadn’t worn purple in weeks. Not really a commitment, definitely not a symbol of possession, wearing his color was just a symbol that he was in your thoughts. The lack of that implied that he wasn’t plaguing your mind like you did his. At least, that’s what he picked up from it.

Data point 2: You barely invited him to hang out anymore. The last few times you two had seen each other had all been initiated by him, three to be exact, and all of those instances had occurred at the lair. Not your residence, not some fun locale, the lair.

Data point 3: …

Well, to be completely honest, he only had the two. However, how unscientific or illogical his hypothesis was mattered not. 

Something was awry.

And he was going to get to the bottom of it.

A text message drew Donnie out of his downward spiral line of reasoning.It was from you, alleging that you were almost to the lair.

Right. He had been so busy plotting and scheming that he nearly forgot the subject of such endeavors, and that he had invited you over for investigation and/or confrontation.

He needed to get ready.

He tugged off the lavender sweatshirt he’d taken from your place a couple of months ago, the chain of your stolen lilac bracelet jangling as he did so.

Oh yeah. He should probably take that off, too.

He didn’t want to seem like a kleptomaniac.

He barely had time to chuck the articles into the deep recesses of his lab and act like he was busy working on some project before you knocked and entered the room.

“Heya, D.” You plopped down on the desk chair adjacent to his seat and spun around once.

His answer was a disinterested hum.

You summed it up as him being busy and started scrolling on your phone before he spoke up.

“My, what an opulent blue shirt you have on.”

That was an odd comment, and were those hints of disdain in his voice? You continued on anyway. “Uhhh, thanks? It’s just a graphic tee, though..?”

“Oh, don’t undersell it. It’s rather nice.”

“...Okay then.”

You weren’t following. He grew frustrated.

“Yes, it is grand, but would it not look in another, similarly shaded cool color?” He prompted.

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

His eye twitched. You grinned.

You tilted your chair in his direction, tone lightly teasing. You two indulged in some lighthearted banter here and there, and that’s what you thought that was. “What, are you saying it’d look better in purple? Your color?”

“I’m not saying that I interpret the colors of your clothing symbolically, but yes, I do. You haven’t been wearing any of your purple articles recently, you barely invite me over anymore. You can just admit you don’t enjoy my company.” When his gaze fled to the ground, you realized that he was serious about this.

“Donatello…” you started, dipping your neck down so you could make eye contact. “That is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said. The reason I haven’t been wearing purple is because I don’t have any purple to wear. Something or someone keeps taking all of it. And, coincidentally, more goes missing every time you come over. That’s why I’ve been hanging out here instead.”

Donnie’s mouth was agape. The thought that he was the one causing his own problems hadn’t crossed his mind. Genuinely, thinking about it, it made a lot of sense. The worst enemy you can meet will always be yourself was really ringing true. But he couldn’t let his scientific validity and his dignity die in the same endeavor, so he took the next logical step. Lie.

The softshell swallowed before uncertainly droning, “I haven’t the slightest clue as to what you are implying.”

“I think you’re definitely smart enough to ascertain my implications. And you’re way past smart enough to know that I still love spending time with you even though I’m not wearing a specific color anymore.”

Donnie blinked. Oh. So, you two were cool, and he was actually just being melodramatic. He was still trying to figure out if that was worse than you being sick of him. It probably was. Probably… 

However, he couldn’t dwell on that long. Something you said piqued his interest. The thing about the color of your clothing not holding any symbolic weight.

Expression growing subtly smug with the quirk of an eyebrow, he called your bluff. “If you are taking into account my intelligence, then should you not also observe that I am smart enough to discern the correlation between the formation of our partnership and you coming into possession of more purple attire?”

You blinked before countering with a smirk. “How would you know that I bought more purple clothes if I haven’t been able to wear them?”

Oh, Schrödinger. The only way that he would know, and the reason he did know, was because he had taken them

Regrettably, he mumbled. “... I plead the fifth.”

“Oh no you don’t. Public interest takes precedence over your individual rights, sir. Get subpoenaed, sucker!” You perked up in your seat and pointed an accusatory index finger at the man. “Where are my things?”

He crossed his arms.“You have no definitive proof that it was me. Your argument is circumstantial, at best. Good luck defending that in a court of law.”

Your excitement deflated. “Fine, fine. I suppose I must continue on without wearing purple, our color, forever.”

You batted your eyelashes sadly. It was a cheap tactic, but you weren’t afraid to stoop if it meant you could get your regular Donnie- you meant, wardrobe back. Yeah, you missed your clothes, but you missed having him over more. Probably.

It only took a couple more seconds for him to crack. “Sigh… Hey, completely unrelated segue, but could I come over tomorrow?”

“Suspicious timing, but I’ll allow it.”

“Great.”

“This meeting is adjourned.”

Somehow, by some otherworldly force/the magic of guilt tripping, your violet sweatshirts, t-shirts, accessories, gradually began showing up as the weeks went on.

By the same mysterious impetus, their return coincidentally synchronized with Donnie coming over.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember me? (Part 9)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: Aight y'all. This thing contains some heavy themes i guess, so this one can be skipped if you want. this part is basically a filler chapter.

This picks up one month after the last part ended.

Andddd....

Here we go.

•○🌑○•

Feyre's pov.

Feyre was walking home from her art studio, Nyx hopping along next to her. The day was beautiful, not too bright, not too cloudy. It was a perfect day to go out with her family on a picnic and simply enjoy their company and thank the mother for her blessings.

Or at least it would have been a good day for that if her family hadn't been falling apart.

Rhys had been pulling away more than ever. He had become detached from reality, drinking his days away and being locked up in his office all day. He had become more snappy than ever, yelling and throwing a fit at the smallest inconveniences.

A few days ago, he had punched and cracked a wall because his food was too hot.

Rhys was... he going mad. There was no other was to put it.

He did not want to be talked to, and if he found someone looking at him for longer than a moment, he would snarl like a wild beast. His appearance had also become... worse.

He looked so sick, like he would drop dead at any moment.

A loud gasp drew Feyre from her thoughts, and she looked down to find Nyx staring wide eyed at a spot on the ground nearby.

"Nyx?" Feyre questioned gently, trying to get his attention.

Nyx snatched his hand away from his mother's, sprinting away when Feyre tried to grab his hand again.

"Nyx! What are you doing?"

She followed Nyx, walking briskly behind him. She slowed to a stop when he did, watching as the little boy bent down.

A moment later, he drew up again, a huge, adorable grin on his face.

In his hands was a smooth, white rock. He held it gingerly, both his hands cupped, like holding it too tightly would shatter the beautiful thing.

"Papa would love this mommy."

Her heart melted and shattered at the same time.

But she couldn't bring herself to tell him that Rhys probably wouldn't care, so far lost in his head was he.

"Yes darling, he would love it."

Nyx gave her a toothy grin in return, turning back to the ground as he searched for something. He bent down again, and when he came up this time, he held a smaller rock in his hand and held it out to Feyre.

"This one is for Finnie. I will give it to him when we meet again."

Feyre nodded, plastering on a smile for the sake of her son as she agreed to meeting Fin soon.

But deep down, she knew she wished the two boys never met again. Because there were only two circumstances under which they could meet, and neither were favourable.

The first would be if Y/n returned to the night court, and Feyre knew that wouldn't happen as Y/n didn't want Rhys to mess with her or her son's life ever again.

And the second would be if Feyre left Rhys.

And she wished that it never came to that.

It wasn't that she didn't believe Y/n. At first she hadn't, but then Y/n had showed Feyre her memories, and Feyre had to believe her, no matter how much she wanted it all to be a lie. Because fabricating someone's memories was too hard and even unheard of.

Feyre told herself Rhysand's weird behaviour was only the result of heartbreak, of finding out he had another son all along.

She hoped he would go back to normal, that one day he would wake up and realise how bad his condition had been becoming, how he had been weeping and wasting away for something he could never have and throwing away everything he did have for the illusion of happiness.

As she reached the door of the river house, she wiped away all her thoughts and simply focused on getting Nyx to go to sleep. Or do anything but stay away from his father.

Rhys would probably yell at the little boy if he was in a foul mood, and Feyre simply could not handle watching her son cry.

"Hey Nyx, why don't we make cookies? Would you like that?"

Nyx nodded happily. "Yes mommy. We can do that after I give papa this stone."

"No Nyxie. Can we not give papa the stone later? Or I can give it to him." Feyre offered.

Nyx held the stone away from Feyre, shielding it with his body as he frowned. "No. I will give it to papa."

Before Feyre could try more to convince him, he ran off, climbing the stair as fast as his ittle legs would carry him.

She followed him, making as little noise as possible. Because in the past few weeks, even the littlest noises had been triggering her mate's urge to destroy everything in sight.

"Nyx! Nyx, slow down!" She whispered, frantically reaching for him. He had already reached the landing, and now ran to his father's office.

The door was slightly ajar, and Nyx pushed it open the rest of the way in his haste to give the stone to his father himself.

Feyre reached the door, her heart beating in her throat, just in time to see Nyx reach his hands up, the stone cupped in them, towards Rhys, who was staring down at the little boy, his eyebrows raised.

Rhys took the stone, inspecting it carefully before a nonchalant look crossed his features, and Feyre immediately knew that he was going to throw the rock away and either yell at Nyx or dismiss him entirely.

Feyre didn't want to see her boy sad, and so she reached out with her daemati powers and knocked on the mighty walls of the fortress surrounding Rhys's mind.

He glanced up, irritation evident in his eyes, but he let her speak to him through a small window that he created.

Please don't hurt him. Please pretend.

Rhys cocked his head, and Feyre could practically see the wheels turning in his head, and a sense of dread gripped Feyre when a slow smirk spread across Rhysand's face.

Sure, Feyre. He purred in her mind before he looked down at the little boy, who stared up at his father with a hopeful smile on his face.

"This is beautiful, my boy. Thank you so much." And with that, Rhys pocketed the rock, and Nyx giggled, turning to Feyre with the biggest toothy grin ever.

"Mommy, are we going to make cookies now?"

Before Feyre could respond, Rhysand cut in. "How about you do it with Nuala and Ceridwen? I have an important thing to discuss with mommy."

Nyx nodded, then sprinted away to the stairs, and as Feyre watched him go, the dread coiling around her heart felt like a vise.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked once Nyx was out of sight, and Rhys gestured at her to come in and lock the door. She did so without questioning him.

The moment the lock clicked shut, Rhys prowled forward, his hands landing on the sides of Feyre's shoulders, caging her in against the door. He leaned down, his hot breath washing over the side of her face as he whispered directly in her ear.

"It's been so long since we've had some alone time," A pause as he began to peel her clothes off of her. "Y/n darling."

•○🌑○•

Feyre stared at the beams of moonlight across the ceiling, tears running down the sides of her face and into her hair.

She was ashamed and disappointed in herself, and as she curled into a ball on her side, she considered peeling off her skin and setting fire to it.

She sniffled quietly, her mind refusing to think of anything but the past few hours, when Rhys had touched her, worshipped her like he were a devoted male and she a goddess.

Except hers was not the name he chanted in his prayers.

No, it was of his former lover, and for some reason, she had not been able to push him off of her or do anything to let him know she did not want him to touch her while he was lost in the thoughts of another female.

Rhys had wounded Feyre's heart for nearly half the night, and she could do nothing about it.

Worse were the way he'd rubbed salt on her wounds after the whole ordeal, telling her she was nothing compared to her. That Feyre could never be her, and that it really was a waste of time to have pursued Feyre to see if a mate was worth loosing Y/n over when he could have been with Y/n all along.

Every muscle in Feyre's body clenched as she tried to quiet her sobs so as not to wake him as he slept peacefully at her back.

Feyre didn't know what to do.

Slowly, her mind drifted to that day a month ago, when she and Y/n had talked, and Y/n had showed Feyre exactly what Rhys had done to her.

Feyre... you can come with us.

You can live with us.

Look Feyre, you are Nyx's mother. You know what's best for him. If you need time, then take some time. Think about this if you want. But leave him Feyre. He does not deserve you or Nyx.

I can't force you to come with us but... I beg you Feyre. Think about this. And when you are ready, write to me. I will ask Eris to make arrangements for your safe travel to autumn court.

Feyre sniffed, wiping her tears with her palms as her path forward became clearer.

Write to me.

A pen and paper appeared next to the bed on the nightstand, and Feyre picked them both up, scribbling down a quick message and then winnowing it away, hoping her friend was awake and found it.

Though that would be a miracle, as it was quite literally the middle of the night, and not many people stayed up crying over their pathetic lives.

But there was nothing else Feyre could do except hope, because anything else had been stolen away by her mate. The one who was supposed to never harm her.

With one last look at the sleeping form beside her, Feyre stood, gathering all her discarded clothes and pulling them on, trying not to cringe in embarassment.

Then, she grabbed a bag, stuffed all her clothes and Nyx's inside of it, especially all the expensive gowns of hers. She could maybe sell them to make a little extra money.

Just before se left her and Rhysand's room, her gaze snagged on a bundle of money Rhys stored in his drawer, and a plan formed in Feyre's mind, and her lips lifted in a small smirk.

It seemed that the meeting with Fin would happen sooner rather than later.

And that a visit to the bank was necessary.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @holb32@awoa1@cleverzonkwombatsludge@luvmoo@we-were-beautiful@eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913@j-pendragonx@thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz@esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow@bubybubsters@eos-princess@nightless@bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten@txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman@leeknows-wife@aria-chikage@amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover@kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay@acourtofbatboydreams@stained-glass-eyes0708@glaciuswduo@wallacewillow0773638@cassie6392

Y

[serejae]

margaret

myung jaehyun x doodler!reader

syno; a pencil lead you to him now

a/n ; uncapitalization is intended, some kissing, inspired on our beloved summer besides the exes factor lol :-), enjoy

it was a late night, jaehyun wasn’t home yet and you couldn’t quite fall asleep yet. so you decided to kill two birds with one stone. ever since you were young you had a hobby of drawing, it was normal for you to get asked from people to draw them. unfortunately for them your drawings don’t focus on people but rather sights. as you organized your old drawings you came across a dusty folder hidden all the way in the back of your shelf, curious to see what it is you grab it and clear the dust off. the cover of the folder doesn’t go unnoticed with masking tape messily on it with the words “DO NOT OPEN. YOURE CRAZY.” written on top. you laugh to yourself slighty and take the risk going against your past self. when opening the folder a tiny pencil falls out and all the memories suddenly flash back. picking up the pencil, you immediately sit down and go through the folder.

-

it was almost 2 years ago. you were sketching in a cafe when you got distracted by your phone that you didn’t notice one of your pencils falling out of your pencil case. someone suddenly diverts your attention away from your phone. looking up you see the most (not even exaggerated) mesmerizing man, his lips turn up slight and he clears his throat “sorry for bothering you, but your pencil fell” he said with a slight blush on his face and reddish ears. you laugh slightly and thank him expecting that to be the end of your conversation but to your suprise he paused for a second thinking about what to say

“are you here alone?”

the wise answer wouldve been no, i mean you dont even know the guy

“yeah”

“can i sit?”

-

while reminiscing the moment you played with the pencil, the pencil was special, not only because it lead you to jaehyun but the steps it took to realize you loved him.

there were 2 drawings of jaehyun. the only drawings you ever drew of a person

-

drawing 1 .

its been 2 weeks since you met jaehyun. you both had been talking regularly and you hated it: not because you disliked him or anything but rather the opposite. you found yourself developing a

crush. :-/

as you sat at your table shaking your good pencil between your fingers staring at the blank paper that seems to be staring at you back. thats when you started imagining eyes, nose, lips, a face on the paper but not just anyones face. it was myung jaehyun’s. you never had the urge or willingness to draw a person but something inside your soul was telling you to. trying to push the thoughts back you starting thinking to yourself

“i don’t even remember his face accurately”

“its been 2 weeks pfft”

*ding*

pausing at the notification you flip your phone over and the screen illuminates.

myung jae !

**ONE NOTIFICATION **

“if your not too busy do you wanna ft?:p”

fuck.

before replying back (a obvious yes) you scramble your desk for the pencil he had handed you that day. the pencil was tiny, you kept it because you kept forgetting to throw it away but once you find it you reply with a

“sure”

cant seem too desperate right?

and as he calls you and the screens connect, your met with a familiar face and start doodling. focusing on his voice and you drew, you looked up every so often studying his face.

after finishing you date the corner and shove it in the back of your drawer.

-

drawing 2 .

your crazy.

its been 9 months since you first met jaehyun and it takes every muscle in you to not draw him. you can’t feed into your delusional or into the thought that you might have a crush on him. at this point its more then a stupid crush. you would say you just really really really like jaehyun but you guys werent even dating yet and thats the problem.

everyday for these past 9 months the two of you have become incredibly close, might i add a little too close.

all you could think about was him and normally in situations like this you would draw things you like to get your mind off of whatever you were stressed about which sadly wouldn’t work in this situation

as he was what you like and all you could think about.

after a hour on debating (3 minutes) you sigh and open your camera roll, opening the album “mjae<{3” your favorite photo of him, one you didnt even know you took but there was something different about the photo

his eyes.

theres no way he couldnt feel the same about you, right?

shut up.

you stopped the thoughts and started doodling, sketching all the details on his face. youve memorized his face probably more then your own now that you think about it.

adding the finishing touches and dating it, you back away from the paper and stare at it

how does he have you wrapped around his finger so well?

grabbing your phones you search variations of questions into google

“why cant i stop thinking of a guy”

“how to know if you like a guy”

“does my crush like me????” you made sure to find one made bv a guy to insure accuracy.

unfortunately the answers didnt help you

they all lead back to love

and thats when you realized

you don’t really like myung jaehyun

your inloveeeeeeee with myung jaehyun.

jumping onto your bed you scream into your pillow and go into a rage. scrambling around your room you find a folder, empty everything inside, get tape from your desk and aggressively put the tape on there. taking your marker you write “DO NOT OPEN. YOUR CRAZY.” you stuffed the current drawing in there as well dug in your drawer for the previous one. once inside you grab the pencil that started it all and put it inside too. then shoving it to the back of your shelf.

-

a year after meeting jaehyun thats when he finally asked you to be his partner, he had asked to meet in the same cafe you 2 had met. you arrived on time while jaehyun was a bit late, you didnt mind too much though. while waiting you scrolled on your phone when you suddenly heard a voice

“excuse me?

i think you dropped this.”

you look up confused and see a bouquet of flowers with a sticky note attached to it

“be my partner? (plz)” as well a silly drawing of you and jaehyun as cat and dog. looking up you see his familiar face that has a reddish tint

“of course.”

-

you hear the door open snapping you out of your thoughts

“baby? im home!”

“at my desk jae”

you hear him shuffe his way to your desk and kisses you on the head before looking at your desk

“oh look! its the pencil i gave back to you when we first met, you still have it?” he laughed, his eyes shift over to the two drawings on the table of no other then, him.

“woah…”

he said as he picked up the drawings seeing the dated marks

“these are amazing babe, but i thought you didnt draw people?”

you look down at the pencil and smile

oh you couldn’t wait to tell him the storied behind the drawings

you looked up at the sticky note on your wall before opening your mouth

“funny story…”

[itneverendshere]

cowboy casanova - rafe cameron AU ii

part i.

synopsis: no real plot line just me thinking about cowboy!rafe while listening to cowboy casanova lmao...might write a part 2...idk; thought my rafe phase couldn't get worse..but it's WORSAA than ever, drew got me on a leash jesus; anyway enjoy

warnings: cowboy!Rafe Cameron; kissing; a LOT of pet names; SMUT! (not that bad YET); mutual pinning;

word count: 2.204k

You still think that’s all it is. 

A few nights spent together as a stress reliever, nothing more, nothing less. You can’t help but feel sad at the thought. Maybe, you’d fallen for the reckless blonde more than you’d meant

But how could you not? Rafe, the reckless, Cameron, has stolen more than just your heart, he’s stolen your sanity. His sweet words, dripped in more than honey, have taken over every fiber of your body.

What you don’t know is how Rafe’s friends tease the living shit out of him, that he's always at your feet, or not too far behind. Always hanging on to your last word. In his eyes, you're in a league of your own, and he feels unworthy of your attention.

Your intelligence, wit, and beauty have captivated him in ways he never expected.

He never wanted to like you so much. He knows, he’s not the guy who gets the girl by the end of the story, but he’s dying to.

He has to.

He can’t fathom another possibility. Rafe knows he smokes and drinks more than he should, and he’s earned his reputation as the resident Casanova. But the one vice that really turns him inside out, the one that really knocks him off his feet…turned out to be you. 

Life’s a bitch.

 You have managed to penetrate the walls he built around himself and awaken emotions he thought he had long buried. And, a few months ago, he’d never ever admit it.

But now? Now that he finally has you, it’s all different. 

You’re the most addicting pretty little thing he has ever tasted. He willingly bends to your will and finds himself doing things he never thought he would do, all because of the intoxicating effect you have on him.

Rafe knows you're never gonna pick him. He's made his peace with that, so he'll take whatever you give him.

“You wanna run that by me again?” He asks, caging you as soon as the door to your bedroom is locked and closed behind you. His hands are everywhere, squeezing, pinching, tugging. He presses your back against the wood, your hands shoving his plaid shirt upwards. 

“Kelce asked me on a date?”

Rafe's not a jealous man. Or at least he wasn't until fucking Kelce was stupid enough to think he could put his hands on you. As if he'd ever let that happen.

He's quick to assist you when it comes to undressing you both, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it into the darkness as he watches you press soft kisses against his bare shoulder.

“So that’s how it is, huh? Good enough to fuck you but not to take ya on dates? That hurts, sugar.”

He hopes you're too horny to notice the underlying hurt in his voice.

God forbid he ruins the mood and his chance to touch you.

Rafe’s hands wander over your hips, beneath your shirt, and by now he has memorized how you gasp so beautifully when his thumb brushes the underside of your breasts. He breaks away only to help you pull your shirt off, burying his face in your neck. 

“You never asked.”

Is that a tinge of hope? He never envisioned himself as the white picket fence type, nor did he see himself as someone who would fall in love and become a traditional knight in shining armor for someone else.

“Didn’t know I could.”

“Need a little push?” Your voice is hoarse.

Until you.

You feel him shake his head slightly, stubble rubbing just the right way against your skin.

“Just need you.” 

And then he’s leaning back over you, taking your chin in his palm as he slides his mouth over yours softly. He tastes like the whiskey you’d shared earlier. The one he’d swiped from you at the bar. Seeing him smirk beneath the brim of his hat as he tipped the glass back, made you struggle between choosing murder or sex. 

Your fingers automatically card through his hair as he slips his hands behind you to unclip your bra, letting it fall to the floor between the two of you, his mouth pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck. 

Before you know it, he’s hoisting you over his shoulder so he can drop you on the bed. Lifting you had never been a problem for him.

He’s warm, his arms are wrapped around you and his legs are tangled up with yours.

When one of his hands slides around again to cup your tits in his palms, thumbs sliding over your nipple, you whine his name, and the sound makes his heart skip a beat. His other hand is back to your chin, tipping it up, towards him, and his hand slides lower, wrapping gently around your neck.

He knows just how hard to squeeze to get a gasp out of you. To make you look him in the eyes and see the smirk that curves his lips. You squirm in his lap, trying to relieve some pressure between your legs.

A whine snakes past your lips and it's like music to his ears.

“Rafe,” You beg, voice wobbling as if he'd been teasing you for hours rather than a few moments, and he swells with pride that he has as much of an effect on you as you do on him., “Want you.”

"You've got me, sweet girl," he assures, leaning down to swipe his tongue fleetingly over one of your nipples as his hands slide along the back of your thighs. 

You're arching up against him already.

“Don’t tease.”

“That desperate, huh—”

The sarcastic remark dies on his lips as you push down on the waistband of his jeans. He can’t wrap his head around how easily you unbutton his jeans and free his cock, wrapping a hand around his length.

“Fuck,” He hisses sharply, hips lurching forward, thrusting into your hand.

“That desperate, cowboy?” You ask rhetorically, your voice barely registering over the lewd sounds he’s making.

With that, Rafe goes right back to attacking your nipples. It’s a mess of teeth and tongues that results in moans, and your chest being rubbed raw by his stubble. He has to grit his teeth to keep himself from being too loud, your hand still working over his length slowly as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Gon’ be the death of me, aren’t ya?”

“Want me to stop?” You pout, hand coming to a stop as he curses you out while you make a show of licking his pre cum off your palm and his gaze darkens, fingers making quick work of the buttons on your jeans and yanking them down in one swift movement. 

“Fucking tease.”

You yelp at the suddenness but your eyes glint mischievously, drawing him back to your mouth as you murmur teasingly, “In a hurry, casanova?" 

“To get inside that sweet pussy? Yeah,” You lift your hips to slide off your underwear, dropping it to the floor, “Drive me fucking crazy, y'know that?" He admits.

You smiled into his arm, tongue rolling over your teeth as you prepare to tease, “Couldn’t tell.”

His gaze rakes over you silently, until your hands are tugging on him, fingers intertwining with his.

“Been waiting all week for you,” You say, fingertips ghosting your skin before diving down, digits collecting your wetness, an obscene sound leaving your mouth, "See?"

“Fuck—Baby, ‘m gonna cum before we even start.”

You twist your head to capture his mouth again, slower but with more heat than before. Your lips travel down to his jaw, then under his ear to suck the tender skin there. Rafe moans, his hands clenching your waist.

You’re a pain in the ass. 

His hand replaces yours, giving him leverage to circle your clit. He grunts, pupils trained on your face as your hips grind against him.

Two fingers slip in, then three. There’s hardly any coherent thought in your head when he speaks again.

“Tell me how much you missed me.”

You want to smack the shit-eating grin off of his face. He knows you can only moan at this point.

“Words, pretty.” He teases, pupils trained on your face as your hips grind against his hand. You feel him tug a strand of your hair, twisting it around his finger.

“Rafe,” You whine at his words, your grip on his shoulders squeezing impossibly tighter, “Please.”

“Y’look so pretty like this, sugar,” He whispers in your ear, “Just f’me. Fucking yourself on my fingers.”

Your hips circle desperately, head falling back as he works his magic inside you. Skillful fingers roll gentle circles against your clit. He pushes into your cunt again, thumb now rolling against your clit, one of his fingers darting in and out of you slowly.

All the way, your breathing deepens, skin glowing red at this point.

Blue shimmers into your glossy eyes, and his silky, messy dark blonde hair makes his appearance all the more alluring, especially in such a delirious state. A strong hand grips you by the neck, and firm lips plant themselves squarely on yours.

It’s pathetic how fast you keen under his touch

Rafe groans into your mouth and you continue to press your hips down farther. A needy whine escapes your lips, your panting is heavy.

“Rafe if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear to—“

You don’t think it’s possible to get wetter than you already are, but every thrust of his fingers proves you wrong. He curls both at the same time, and your hips immediately lift from the pressure.

“Uh uh, behave.” That southern drawl of his is deeper, lazier than usual.

You love it.

You watch him spit on your slit through hooded eyes and it does it for you. A rush of electricity passes through your body and it renders you senseless. It feels as if a bolt of lightning stroked inside of you, you feel the rush begin to surge. Breath caught in your lungs, chest heaving, blood rushing in your ears, you almost don’t hear when he murmurs your name.

“Oh—fuck, Rafe—baby."

“I know, sugar,” He mumbles into your mouth, smiling widening as he quickens his pace. 

Your mind is hazy, it turns into a mixture of fog and smoke, but your refuse to leave him hanging. The warmth of him is consuming and the hairs on your skin stand up eagerly.

“N-need you inside me—Oh—now.”

“Already am?”

Everything is already slick and hot to the touch. You groan so hoarsely that he feels your chest vibrate against his.

“Don't. Your cock, now.”

“Tell me y’not going on a date with fucking Kelce.”

“Rafe…” you sigh when he dives his lips to your neck. He only chuckles, his voice reverberating into your skin. You raise your hands and push at his chest slightly. 

His lips automatically unlatch from your flesh. Fuck, maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut, is this where you tell him it’s over and you never want to see him again? 

“Yeah?” His brows are slightly knitted as you wiggle beneath him, your cunt clenching and unclenching around nothing.

“If you don’t fuck me in the next minute, you can bet your ass I’m going on that date. “

“Sugar,” Rafe groans into the junction where your shoulder and neck meet, his teeth grazing over your skin, “Can't say that.”

You raise your hips to meet his.

“M’ not going on that stupid date, you know that,” You moan.

He smiles involuntarily before he can help it, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. The warmth spreads across his face, his lips curving upward with genuine delight, a sense of relief washes over him.

You spread your legs as he ruts into you, his clothed cock twitching above your folds. He needs to be inside of you now. 

Your body instantly shivers when he finally takes a hand into his pants and snatches his aching cock. You can’t help but stare at how the muscles in his arm bulge every time he strokes it.

Your words echo in his head as he grits his teeth to stop himself from cumming on the spot.

“Rafe, please,” You beg, again. That’s all you seem to do when you’re around him. 

With a deep breath, he finally pushes inside. Home sweet home. No matter how many times you've slept with him, it still felt like you are going to be torn apart from the inside out as he carefully inches his cock into your plush heat. 

“Could be inside you all day,” Your back automatically arches as he caresses your waist, fingers digging into his broad shoulders as he pushes in further, his shaft falling deeper into your walls, “Atta girl."

All he can do his praise you. You're the prettiest sight he has ever seen and you never fail to make his chest hurt.

“Oh god,” You whine, as he presses his forehead to yours. You tilt your head, catching his lips in a heated kiss. He lets you adjust to his size as both of you moan into each other’s mouths. When he pulls back, his pupils are blown, and his lips parted.

“Can’t wait to ruin you all over again, sugar.”

[fayes-fics]

Teacher Bridgerton

2k Celebration Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Modern AU Benedict, primary school art teacher

Warnings: none... fluff, dad!Benedict

Word Count: 830

Authors Note: Last of my 2k follower celebration drabbles. This is for @guiltywaves with the prompt of art teacher Benedict (ask here). i had to end with some soft dad!Benedict, Unbetaed. Enjoy! <3

“Is this right, Mr Brid-etun?” a boy holds a piece of paper aloft, struggling to enunciate the last name a little, wiggling in his tiny chair.

“Daniel, this is art,” Benedict explains softly as he drops to kneeling next to the little boy. “There is no right or wrong; just whatever you want to draw, do that. And please call me Ben.”

The boy looks at him wide-eyed, almost suspicious. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure. I am your art teacher, remember?”

The boy nods solemnly and reaches across the low table for a crayon. 

“Fank you, Ben,” he murmurs, a little peek of tongue at the corner of his mouth as he draws an arc in bright green.

Benedict smiles at the little boy and then stands back up to survey the cheery art room filled with 5-year-olds, preoccupied with crayons and their imaginations. It never fails to make him happy when Reception Year has its lesson every Wednesday morning. And not just because of one very special person it contains.

He never saw himself as a teacher, but a 2-month volunteering stint at summer classes on a whim became a temporary placement the following term that somehow became a job. That was seven years ago—he has never felt more content.

“Uncle Ben, I drew a cat!” a voice pipes up proudly, and he turns around to see Mary Bridgerton beaming up at him, holding a picture of what could possibly be a cat. It's a bright purple circle with rather demonic-looking red eyes and lightning-bolt yellow whiskers.

“Mary, that's very… colourful,” he offers diplomatically, bending down to ruffle her hair. “But remember, I'm just supposed to be Ben at school; I'm Uncle Ben at home,” he whispers as his brother's youngest child taps a finger to her nose with a wink, her pretty brown eyes shining as if agreeing to safeguard some grand secret. 

“I want to draw a car,” Mary’s friend Lila sighs wistfully.

“You can do it, Lila. Here,” Benedict hands her a blue crayon. “Try with this. I can help if you get stuck. I’ll be right here. And look, it's blue, just like your Mummy’s car.”

Lila rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know, Daddy. I’m not colourblind like Uncle Colin,” she replies dryly, eliciting a peal of laughter from Mary. She is often far more mature than her years, and she is growing up so fast that sometimes it terrifies him.

“Lila!” he admonishes quietly. “Remember, you must call me Ben when we are at school! And Uncle Colin isn't colourblind; he is just clueless about how to dress himself,” Benedict adds with slight relish.

“But Mary just called you Uncle Ben,” Lila retorts, drawing a quite impressive version of a blue car for her age—Benedict's heart wells at the sight but schools his expression the best he can.

“It was a accident!” Mary pipes up, indignant.

“It’s okay, Mary,” Benedict soothes. “Just remember to call me Ben at school if you can.”

She agrees and returns to her art—starting on a quiet terrifying-looking green dog. 

_____

“Mummy, look!” Lila runs up to you as you walk in from work after a long day, the delicious scent of garlic and herbs greeting you as soon as the front door opens.

She is holding aloft a remarkable drawing of a blue car. Very much like the one you just climbed out of.

“That's wonderful, Lila!” you compliment as you drop your work bag and take the paper from her for a closer look, kissing her cheek before she runs back to the kitchen table excitedly.

You wander in after her, admiring her handiwork, to be greeted by your husband feeding your baby boy in his highchair as dinner simmers away on the hob.

“Somebody is taking after her Daddy,” you smile indulgently, leaning in to kiss his jaw as you watch his face light up with joy, seeing what you have in your hands. He turns his head to capture your lips instead.

“I am so ridiculously proud; she's my star pupil. That's bad to say, isn't it?” he confesses over your lips, grimacing slightly in an utterly enchanting way.

You chuckle, nuzzling his face, enjoying the slight rasp of stubble. “It's just fine, Mr Bridgerton. I do believe it’s okay to play favourites if the class contains your own daughter.” 

“I'm just glad she draws better than Mary,” he confesses, keeping his voice soft enough that Lila cannot hear.

“That bad, eh?” you laugh, dropping a kiss on your son's hair as he mashes banana into his own cheek, burbling happily.

“Stuff of nightmares,” he shudders, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Well, I'm certainly not telling Anthony,” you warn, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his twine around your waist, pulling you into his comforting embrace. “Or Kate.”

“Yeah, me either; I’ll give Mary a gold star and lie at parents' evening,” he jests into your hair.

“Smart man, teacher Bridgerton.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

[flowersfortheghost]

list of ghostflower headcanons♡

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(bc my school wifi sucks, the draft didnt save correctly and accidentally posted it. so if u saw that post, u didnt. i think it only had like 1 note so im good but i freaked the hell out when i saw it was posted bc it was very much unfinished. so yeah, that.)

these sillies have taken up my mind so much, i dont think its okay. i was in math and i just thought about them and got so happy. i just make so many headcanons for them that i decided to make 1 long post about it. kinda a part 2 of a headcanon post i made like 2-3 months ago. enjoy the silliness :D

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their first kiss was pretty awkward. gwen wanted to make the first move but failed because shes too short to reach miles. she had to stand on her toes to reach him. (bonus: she uses her ballet shoes to reach miles' face)

gwen will always fall asleep when she's cuddling with miles. she keeps asking for cuddles and miles is like "gwen, love, you're going to fall asleep again." and she responds with "i wont this time." 5 minutes later, shes asleep.

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gwen is like a cat with separation issues. she hugs miles so tightly any time he leaves when they are done hanging out.

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gwen always keeps a few sets of spare clothes at 1610, just in case her and miles decide to hang out without all the spidey stuff.

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gwen writes songs about miles. hobie and pav once found it and hobie's like "oh, i know who this is about" and pav is like "this is so sweet!"

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after miles met gwen, the song sunflower just has way more meaning to him. it reminds him so much of her, that whenever he sees a sunflower he thinks of the song, that leading to him thinking about gwen.

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cat lovers. both of them. they talk about getting cats if they one day move in together and they feed stray cats on the streets together (i drew a terrible comic for this its on my tumblr somewhere).

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both of them are just a blushing mess when they first start dating and do small gestures. like they hold hands and both of them are just blushing like crazy.

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miles always kisses gwen before they sleep, and gwen always kisses miles when they wake up.

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they share their money like a married couple. like gwen pays miles back for a coffee he got her like 3 weeks ago.

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they both have little creative work sessions together. like gwen is writing songs about miles and miles is drawing gwen. the few times they share what they make of each other