#if they have time to hear you then they might fight back and if you kill someone in a fight it wouldnt feel /as/ sleazy as sneakin up behin

[stylesharrys]

The Box | Part Two [Boxerry]

Y/N and Harry find themselves on the run from the same people that killed Sam, and Y/N isn't sure how much more of this she can take. 

A/N: this is the final part of the series, still mad that it wouldn’t let me post it as one big fic but it is what it is. I’m working super hard on some new things for you guys and I’m excited to share them when they’re ready… but I do have a couple more old exclusive pieces I might share first :) 

Warnings: (in no particular order) mentions of death/loss of a sibling and grandparent, mentions of miscarriage, unsupportive parents, swearing, brief descriptions of illegal fighting, money laundering, use of weapons, brief mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety, schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder, smut; kissing, teasing, dirty talk, fingering, protected sex, oral (both receiving/69)

WC: 14.8k 

//

“Y/N, you forgot to sign off on meds.” 

With a very tired sigh, Y/N huffs to herself. She’s been like this all day, messing up here and there, forgetting things she wouldn’t ever usually forget. But that’s what happens when Y/N gets in her head. She makes mistakes and finds it difficult to think straight. 

She wouldn’t have this problem if she didn’t sleep with Harry. If he didn’t sneak out while she slept like she had told him to. But alas, here she is, unable to think about anything else other than the dull ache between her thighs where she craves him the most. 

She probably wouldn’t be this pent up if they spoke about it — or spoke at all in general. But they haven’t, not really. In the last two days, they’ve shared a total of six texts between them, and she doesn’t even have to look at her phone to remind herself of what they say. 

Harry: I left while you were sleeping, thought it would be best that way x

Y/N: yeah, I get it x

Y/N: I won’t be able to come to the club until Wednesday if that’s ok. Working late the next two days

Harry: no stress, come whenever u can x

Y/N: just to make you aware, Mary has started new medication for her diabetes x

Harry: cool, thank you x

The small conversation had been spread over 48 hours and Y/N isn’t sure how to feel about that. Is that a hint that she should take? That he’s not interested in it happening again, even though they alluded to another time when they were together? 

It’s the unknown that’s had her so worked up today. So much so that even now, fixing her mistake on the medication sheet, she somehow almost signs the wrong name off. 

Handing the pen back to Cynthia, Y/N finally grabs her bag and zips up her jacket to leave work. She doesn’t waste a second before opening the door and allowing the biting chill of the night's air to nip at the skin of her face. 

The idea of a steaming hot bath and a glass of white wine sits heavy in her mind as she makes for the car park, tries to think of the best way she can take her mind off Harry this evening. 

She supposes she could catch up with one of her shows, maybe even start the book she bought last week and still hasn’t got round to opening. 

A book, bath and a glass of wine is what she decides on — she might even be cheeky and order food in or pick something up on the way home. 

It’s only a few more steps to her car when she hears an engine turn on a few spaces from her. Headlights light up the dark, illuminating her way slightly and she squints. 

The late shift ended two hours ago and no one else is finishing or starting shift at this time of the night. She wonders if it’s just someone who lives locally that’s using their parking lot, but the harder she looks, the more unnerved she feels. 

Y/N recognises the three faces in the car — two in the front and one in the back. She remembers their intense gazes from the pub just a few nights ago; where Harry got extremely uptight about their presence — and now, they’re here, outside of her work, staring at her. 

That familiar feeling of fear settles heavy in her stomach and as if out of impulse, she begins to slow her speed and sifts through her purse, appearing as though she’s searching for her keys. 

She stops then, subtly pulls her phone out and turns around back toward the building of the care home, like she’s lost what she’s looking for. It’s when her back is completely toward the car and her feet slowly carry her back to the front door to not appear spooked, she’s dialling Harry’s number and bringing the phone to her ear. 

It only rings once and then he answers. 

“Hey,” his voice is light, happy. “I was just about to call you.” 

“Harry, I need you to pick me up from work.” The panic in her voice stirs something worrisome in Harry’s gut and his once airy tone is diminished. 

“Okay, I’m coming. What’s wrong, Penny? Are you okay?” 

“Those guys from the pub the other night are here. They’re in a car right by mine and I’m scared. I don’t know what to fucking do!” 

He’s swallowing down the bile that crawls up his throat, grabbing his keys from the table in the office as he stands. 

“Are you in your car?”

“No, I was walking out of work when I noticed them.”

“Go back inside and meet me out the back. Do not leave the building until I text you.”

“Can you please stay on the phone with me?” 

His heart clenches, hands balling into fists. He doesn’t say anything to anyone as he leaves the club, only a few of the guys training in the space. 

“Yeah, just keep talking to me. How many guys are in the car?” 

Y/N hears him start up his engine as she re-enters the building and rushes through the halls. “Three.” 

Harry doesn’t have to ask what they look like to know who they are. The anger that consumes him begins to shake his body, red slowly blurring his vision and he hasn’t driven this fast since the night of Sammy’s death. 

“Harry, who are they? Why did you get spooked at the pub when you saw them and why the fuck are they waiting outside my work?” 

He doesn’t answer her. “I’ll be two minutes, just stay inside.” 

She doesn’t like the way he dismisses her question, how she’s being left in the dark, purposefully. That fear begins to ache in her fingertips, heart racing against her ribcage and those familiar signs of a panic attack begin to make themselves apparent. 

“Har… I can’t breathe. I’m freaking the fuck out.” 

“Don’t,” he tells her, voice stern. “I’m coming around the corner. It’s gonna be fine…. I’m outside.” 

She pushes through the back door quickly, eyes frantically searching for his Chevy when she finally spots his headlights. Harry flashes them at her, leaning over to open the passenger door and Y/N’s quick to get inside and lock it shut behind her. 

The state she’s in makes Harry feel sick. Eyes like a deer in headlights, fear prominent in every feature. She turns to him with a wild look, swallowing thickly. 

Harry reaches for her hand and gives her a reassuring squeeze before reversing out of the narrow road and turning back around. 

“What the fuck is going on?” 

He keeps his eyes fixed on the road, ignoring her question until she calls his name again, much sterner this time. 

“Tell me what is going on.” 

He looks at her briefly, dragging his eyes back to the road again. This is not how he wanted it to go. He didn’t want her caught up in this mess and he didn’t want to have to be the one to explain Sammy’s death. Much less under these circumstances. 

“I’m going to take you back to my place and I’ll explain everything there, okay?” 

Y/N shakes her head profusely, tearing her hand from Harry’s hold as the panic refuses to subside. 

“No, that’s not okay. Harry, I can’t—“

“Penny! Stop. Do you trust me?” 

She blinks at him. “What?” 

“Do you trust me?” he repeats, accentuating every word. 

It’s not something she needs to think about. Maybe it’s a bit crazy, a bit premature, but she does trust him. With her life. 

She nods her head once. “I trust you.” 

Her words sit a little heavy in Harry’s chest. She trusts him. The confirmation of it doesn’t relax him like he thought it would. Because Sam trusted him, and Harry was too late. 

He’ll be damned if history repeats itself. 

“Then trust when I say I’ll explain everything when we get home. You’re safe with me, and I need you to calm down.” 

He knows it’s easier said than done but when he doesn’t hear Y/N complain, and he feels her relax into her seat the best she can, that heaviness sits a little lighter. 

“Okay.” 

The usual forty minute drive to Harry’s apartment takes just under twenty minutes. The roads are clear and Harry’s not ashamed to admit he stepped on the gas a little harder than usual. 

To him, this isn’t a time to take a leisurely drive and admire the night's view. Because if this is anything like before, it’s life or death and Harry won’t allow the latter. 

His flat is on the third floor of a fairly large complex. It’s stealth-like, how he guides her through the halls and into his flat. She takes it in for a few seconds. Clean, tidy, minimal. 

Like he can up and leave at any given moment if necessary. 

Harry throws his keys on the coffee table and rushes to the window, closing the blinds before wandering to the kitchen to do the same. A frown sits heavy between his brows and there’s something a bit erratic about him. 

The composure she had just moments before is quickly dwindling and soon enough, she’s back to panicking again. 

“Can you tell me what the fuck is going on now?” 

Harry chews on the inside of his cheek, hands on his hips as he looks at her. Neither of them really take into consideration that this is the first time they’ve seen each other since they slept together. 

And now is not a time to bring it up either. 

Harry huffs. “Look, those guys are bad news. Mentally fucking insane, okay? They had it out for Sam and now they’re after you.” 

Y/N stares at him, blinking her eyes wide. “Excuse me?” 

He doesn’t want to tell her, can't stomach the idea of it, but Harry knows he doesn’t have a choice. He can’t keep her in the dark about her brother forever. And now that the same people are after her, she deserves to know the truth. 

“Sam wasn’t always this great guy, Penny. He had a dark side and they were a part of it.” 

The mention of her late brother makes her heart twist. Her chest begins to rattle as she tries to take in his words. To understand what he’s trying to get at. 

“What are you trying to say?” She poses the question carefully, not wanting to read the situation wrong. 

A look of softness flashes across Harry’s face as he takes a step closer. “Sammy’s death wasn’t an accident,” he begins, “Those guys ran him off the road and killed him.”

It’s all too much and everything starts caving in on her. Y/N can hardly breathe, can barely even see. There’s a drumming in her head that deafens her, a haze in her eyes that blinds her. 

Her brother didn’t pass away. He was taken — his soul torn from his body before he was ready to go, and Y/N can’t stomach that. Can’t handle the truth of what Harry’s told her. 

How is she supposed to live her life now? Knowing her brother was murdered. Knowing they are the reason for it. 

“Why?” she cries through laboured breaths. 

“Sam owed them money.”

“How much?” 

There’s a pause, and then… “Thirty grand.” 

She’s completely exasperated, struggling to comprehend anything he’s saying. Was thirty grand really worth his life? 

“He was late in paying them,” Harry continues. “We had Feds on our backs watching the club and all of our transactions, we couldn’t risk it.” 

Y/N looks at him, brows pinched tightly as she struggles to see through the onslaught of tears. “So he just refused?” 

Harry shakes his head. “No, not at first. But then they uh… they went after this girl he’d been seeing—“

“—Amira?”

Harry nods. “They tried scaring her, to give Sam a message. They roughed her up — Penny…” he pauses, like he’s preparing himself to say what he needs to, and just when Y/N thinks it couldn’t get worse, it does, “She was pregnant. And she lost the baby because of it.” 

Harry doesn’t give her time to properly process his words, figures it’ll be best to rip most of the bandaid off at once rather than in small increments. 

“Sam lost his shit, told them that they’ll never see their money and that he was after them. One night, they showed up at the club and all Hell broke loose. They ran, we followed — Sam in one car and me in another.” 

The way his voice begins to dwindle with every passing word makes Y/N’s stomach sink. Like she knows what he’s leading up to, that he’s about to divulge the traumatic truth of her brother's death. 

She doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to hear what will haunt her for the rest of her life. But her heart needs the truth — needs to understand what happened to him, needs revenge. 

“Sam was always a better driver; faster,” he croaks, and he falls silent for a second or two until he speaks again with a broken voice. “I heard the sound the same time I turned the corner — his car had flipped and was wrapped around a telephone pole. And they were gone.” 

Her heart is in her stomach, a numbing pain searing through her veins. Pain for Amira and their baby, pain for Sam, pain for herself. But with the pain comes anger. Anger toward the men that killed him. Anger toward the fact that Harry’s always had this knowledge of Sam’s death and didn’t say anything until now, when he felt he had to. 

“You’ve known this whole time.”

There’s little to no emotion in her voice, and the blank expression in her eyes begins to unnerve Harry slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“So you just weren't going to tell me at all?” 

Harry’s growing frustrated but he knows he has no right. He kept this secret from her, he chose to protect her from the truth and is only now realising the consequences of that decision. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “You can hate me all you want but right now, we need to get out of here.” 

A slither of confusion cracks through that empty facade as she takes in the desperation of his voice. Like she’s only now just remembering the severity of the situation they’re in. 

“What?” 

“It’s a matter of time before they check your place, check mine and then riot the club. They didn’t just stop after Sam. They’re trying to take over The Box and that includes getting rid of you and I.”

That all consuming panic is quick to surge through her body, chest rising and falling rapidly as the anger subsides to fear. 

“So… so we need to leave town.” 

He nods slowly at her shaky words, allowing her to take the lead as much as she can so she doesn't feel forced. Y/N scratches at her forehead, keeps her eyes on the ground below her. 

“Okay. Uh… I take it we can’t go back to my place. Can I, like, borrow some clothes or something?” 

“Yeah,” Harry breathes. “I’ll pack a bag now, you should probably call work, tell them there’s a family emergency and you won’t be in for a few days.” 

He leaves her for a few minutes, rushing off to pack a bag in his bedroom. Y/N’s fumbling to type a text to her manager, struggles to keep the tears at bay. 

It’s all too much. It’s one thing to find out her brother was murdered, but to hear the same people that killed him are after her and Harry now? She feels like she can’t breathe. 

//

“Hi, d’you have any more rooms available for the night?” 

He’s softly tapping his finger on the reception desk, eyes on Y/N as he speaks and she’s full of the jitters. 

Harry sped their way to the next town over, pulling into the first motel they came across. She was silent for the majority of the drive, too in her head to offer a coherent conversation but Harry understood, so he didn’t press it. 

And she’s the same now, curled into herself as Harry hands over enough cash to pay for their room for tonight, and lugs the bags in his hands with the room key, making toward the elevator. 

“I’m sorry I kept the truth from you, I didn’t want to taint your memories of him.” He breaks the silence as the door closes and they’re carried higher through the building. 

“That wasn’t for you to decide.”

It’s quiet but he hears her, loud and clear. Harry hates that he’s made her feel this way – that he’s gotten her mixed up in this shitshow. He’s guilty, blames himself for everything that happened to Sam, everything that’s now happening to her.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks out. 

He looks down at her, brows pinched as she gazes up at him through fluttering lashes and hooded eyes, “What for?” 

“None of this is your fault, I know you were only trying to protect me from the truth. Don’t do that again.” 

Harry nods curtly as the doors open and he leads them down the hall in search of their room for the night. He unlocks it, flicks on the lights and lets Y/N walk through first. 

It’s nothing special, just a standard cheap hotel room, but what does catch Y/N’s eye is the bed. Just the one. And she’s reminded of the last time she saw him, when he was in her bedroom, fucking the life out of her. Despite the circumstances, she’s not opposed to sharing a bed – it might make her feel a little safer – but they’ve not discussed their previous meet-up and she doesn’t know what to make of it. 

Harry notices how her gaze stays fixated on the bed and heat rises to his cheeks. “I’ll take the sofa.”

Y/N turns to him, brows pinched. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not exactly strangers, Harry. We’ve literally had sex together — I think we’re past the formalities.” 

The bluntness of her words has Harry’s eyes widening. His lips part in shock at how brazen she appears about their hook-up. Harry had begun to think she regretted it, and that was why she didn’t bring it up. 

Clearly, he’s been sorely mistaken. He thinks. 

He clears his throat, forcing a cough. “Right.” 

He plants the bag on the sofa and retrieves a pair of boxer shorts and an old t-shirt, handing them both to Y/N. She takes them, guides herself to the bathroom and shuts the door. 

It takes Harry a few seconds to regulate his breathing — to get a grip on his emotions and the numbing fear that rattles his body. The whole ordeal is a bit too triggering for him — like he’s potentially going to relive his best friend's death through Y/N. 

He doesn’t know what scares him more. What could happen to her or the lengths he’ll go to to protect her. Either thought is too much to process, so instead he lets his mind wonder about the other situation at hand. 

She’s about to get into bed with him, wearing his clothes, after they hooked up a couple of days ago and are yet to discuss what the hell it means for them. 

And Harry’s aware that it’s definitely not an appropriate time to be thinking about it, but he is. Because he hasn’t been able to stop since it happened. 

He’s torn from his thoughts when the bathroom door opens and Y/N creeps into the bedroom. His heart is lodged in his throat at the sight. His clothes are too big for her and her legs look incredibly soft and smooth, the hem of his t-shirt barely covering her bum. 

“There’s a spare toothbrush on the side. Bathroom’s all yours.” 

There’s not much emotion in her voice now, and Harry can tell from her puffy eyes that she’s been crying behind that bathroom door. His heart cracks a little but he doesn’t say anything. 

Instead he uses the bathroom, strips into a pair of boxers (hoping Y/N won’t mind as he didn’t pack a whole lot of clothes), and brushes his teeth before joining her in the hotel room again. 

She’s under the covers now, only his bedside lamp on and Harry’s heart starts to thump. It’s been a while since he’s laid in bed with someone without something happening. 

Nevertheless, he crawls in beside her and flicks off the light. He keeps a respectable distance between them but still close enough to make out the shadows of her face. That’s when he hears it, the soft sniffles and shaky breath. 

A sigh escapes his lips as he shuffles closer with arms outstretched. He half expects her to push him away, tell him no, she’s still angry with him, but she doesn’t. She coddles herself into his chest instead and lets him hold her — comfort her. 

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Penny. I promise.”

And while she appreciates the reassuring words, it doesn’t do much to soothe her fear and anxiety. Nothing could make her feel safe right now — not even Harry’s warm and strong body keeping her close. Not completely safe, anyway. Not now that she knows the truth. 

What she thinks she needs is a distraction. Something to make her forget, even just for a short while. So it’s not really a surprise to her when she finds herself pulling out of Harry’s hold just enough to crane her neck up to look at him. 

He’s already gazing down at her, eyes as dark as the night. With softly puckered lips, Y/N leans up just enough to press a gentle kiss against his mouth. 

It surprises Harry, if he’s honest. He never would’ve taken her for someone to initiate things first, but he has to remind himself that she’s the type of girl to go after what she wants, and she was the one to initiate things last time. 

He kisses her back just as softly, lips moulding to hers as they both lay on their sides, Y/N lifting her leg to wrap it around Harry’s waist. 

It’s a bold hint that Harry gets, and he pulls away slowly to get a look at her, to search for a single shred of doubt or hesitation. When he falls short, he noses at her temple. 

“It’s probably not a good idea tonight,” he breathes, trying desperately to ignore the way his cock lunges. “Your emotions are really heightened right now. I don’t want you to regret it in the morning.” 

She shakes her head. “I won’t. I didn’t regret it last time,” she tells him, “I just need to forget for a little while.”

Harry swallows thickly. So she doesn’t regret it. And she wants it to happen again, right now, to forget. 

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I don’t have anything — I don’t have a condom with me.” 

Y/N blinks, lips parting. The idea of not using one does cross both of their minds but they’re smarter than that. 

Her hand reaches between their bodies, fingertips grazing across the throbbing length of Harry’s hard cock beneath his boxers. 

“We can do other stuff, can’t we?” 

Her voice is a sensual whisper and it makes his head spin. She’s compelling, everything about her. So he’s not very shocked when he finds himself nodding his head and leaning down to greet her in a kiss again. 

Y/N palms at his clothed cock, hips gently rocking as she tries to get closer. This is what she needs. Him. Anything he’ll give her to make her forget what life is like right now — what she’s running from. 

Harry’s hand cups the side of her jaw, kissing her a little harder. Her spare hand reaches for his wrist to move it away, guides it down their bodies and between her legs until he’s cupping her aching heat through (his) boxers. 

“Are you sure?” 

She squeezes his cock, dipping her fingers into the waistband of his underwear. “Touch me, Har. Need it so bad.” 

He swallows thickly, palming at her heat as a shuddered moan slips from her lips and into his mouth. She wraps her cool fingers around his shift, a hiss sounding from the back of his throat. 

“Need to forget everything, H. Just want you.” 

The neediness in her voice sends him spiralling, latching his mouth to hers with as much force as he can muster. The kiss is messy, dirty — all tongue and teeth and Y/N thinks it’s the hottest thing she’s ever experienced. 

Her hand begins to bob on his cock, long strokes and as she reaches his tip, small beads of precum coat her fingers, smearing across his length. He seethes, a hum soon following as he tries to stay quiet. 

But Y/N doesn’t want him to be quiet. She wants to hear him, how she’s making him feel. 

She pumps a little faster, grip a little tighter. Harry’s sneaking his fingers into the boxers she’s wearing, swirling his fingers between her folds and she’s soaked — almost dripping, really. 

“Jesus Christ, Penny. You’re fucking soaked.” 

She moans into his mouth, bucking her hips against his hand. “I told you not to call me that,” she pants. 

“M’sorry, baby.”

She nods against the kiss. “Yeah, that’s better.”

A breathily laugh escapes Harry’s mouth, his finger prodding at her fluttering hole. She’s eager for him, desperate. Just wants to feel full of him — of whatever he can give her. 

He continues to tease her, thumb on her clit while she lazily tugs at his cock. It’s not enough for her, the gentle touches, she wants her brain turned to mush so she has no choice but to not think. 

Maybe that’s why she shuffles her position beside him until she’s kneeling by his hips and tugging his cock free from the confinements of his boxers.

Harry watches with hooded eyes as she leans down to press a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to his leaking tip. His head falls back against the pillows, chest rising and falling rapidly as she works her warm mouth on his cock. 

He keeps his hand between her thighs, fingers pinching delicately at her puffy clit, a little too fucked on the feeling of her moaning around him. 

Y/N licks messily from the base to the head, swirling her tongue across his slit before taking him into her mouth. She doesn’t mess about with it, takes as much as she can at once and lets him hit at the back of her throat. 

A gruff moan escapes Harry’s lips as she gags around him, spluttering profusely as strings of saliva dribble from the corners of her mouth. 

He reaches his spare hand down for her head, tugging at the roots of her hair to get her attention. “Turn around,” he breathes heavily. 

She pulls off him, brows pinched. “What?” 

“I wanna taste you at the same time,” he gulps. “Turn around.” 

His hand leaves her head, reaching for the boxers on her waist to tug them down while the other continues its assault on her dripping cunt. He relents for a moment to tug the underwear down her thighs and past her ankles, throwing them across the room and helping situate her above his face. 

She lets out a squeak at his eagerness, nose bumping the tip of his cock but Harry doesn’t care. Her cunt hovers over him, soaked and puffy and a quiet moan slips from his lips at the sight.

With his hands on her hips, he eases her down to latch his mouth around her cunt, slurping at her wetness as he’s finally awarded a taste of her. And he’s hooked. Completely fucked out. She’s sweeter than anything he’s ever had before and he’ll be devastated if she never allows him a taste again. 

Y/N covers him with her mouth, suckling as much as she can fit and bobbing her head with every stroke her tongue offers to the underside of his cock. They’re both messy and sloppy with their actions, eager and desperate for a release.

The hotel room will no doubt stink of sex for days after, but neither of them care. They can barely think straight as it is. 

Harry can’t get over the taste of her, wants it staining his tongue for the rest of his life. He reaches a finger down to probe at her hole, pushing in with ease as she clenches around him. 

Y/N lets out a muffled moan around his cock, the sound sending vibrations through Harry’s body which makes him twitch against her tongue. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he mumbles against her cunt, finger curling before he adds a second one and fucks them into her. 

Her thighs are trembling from the sides of his head, locking him in slightly to stop him trying to move away. Y/N takes him deeper into her mouth, relaxing her jaw and Harry takes the hint to start bucking his hips into her. 

It’s filthy, the noises she makes, the way his cock jabs at the back of her throat. Her pussy grips his fingers like a vice, walls fluttering and he knows she’s close. With his spare hand, Harry strikes a smack to her ass, pawing at the fleshy skin before spanking her again. 

She’s positively dripping into his mouth, her body so worked up that she can barely keep consciousness. Her eyes are stinging with tears as he thrusts harsher, effectively restricting her air supply as he does so. 

But she’s never been so turned on in her life. Sixty-nine-ing with Harry in the pitch dark. 

“Fuck! Baby, I’m gonna come.” 

He expects her to pull off him, but she doesn’t. Instead, Y/N forces her mouth further down and sucks, hand reaching between his thighs to massage his balls. 

He’s crying out her name as he releases, spurts of warm come shooting down her throat as her own orgasm rakes through her body. 

Harry laps it up the best he can, cock still buried down her throat as she comes around his fingers and drips into his mouth. She’s begging for him, whining his name as he removes his fingers and sucks them dry. 

She can feel him soften against her tongue, and with as much energy as she can muster up, she pulls off him with a heavy breath. 

“Y’okay?” 

She hums, a little floaty if she’s honest but it worked. It made her forget and now all she wants to do is sleep. 

“Mhm, thank you.”

Harry grins tiredly to himself, helping her off his chest and to lay back beside him. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and plants a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

“Let me get you some water.” 

Y/N watches him through bleary eyes as his cute, naked bum moves over to the desk across the room. He comes back, soft length still impressive, and hands the bottle to her with the cap undone. 

“Here, take a sip,” he guides the bottle to her lips and encourages her to drink before taking a swig for himself. 

Harry climbs into the bed beside her, arms outstretched and she’s quick to nuzzle into his hold. He strokes the hair from her face, keeping her close. 

“Get some sleep. I promise I’ll still be here in the morning.” 

//

Rustling from outside the hotel room is what stirs Harry awake. He’s groggy as he blinks away the sleep, arms aching from Y/N’s head as she lays cuddled up to his chest.

His heart swells for a moment at the sight of her — and then he hears it again, the noise. There’s whispers and footsteps padding outside the door, three voices.

He’s careful when he stands, not wanting to wake Y/N if he’s just overreacting. But when he levels his eyes with the peephole of the door, his flight or fight kicks in and his heart thumps in his ears.

Harry pulls away from the peephole quickly, back against the door as he tries to remain as silent as humanly possible. Y/N stirs in the bed, reaching out for him but he’s not there to cuddle again.

Her eyes flutter open, brows furrowed as she slowly lifts her head from the pillow in search of him. That’s where she spots him, against the door with a bewildered look in his eyes.

Her mouth opens to speak, but she quickly shuts it when Harry brings a finger to his lips, signalling her to stay quiet. Her heart begins to thump again, bile in her throat and she’s frozen on the bed, sheets clutched close to her naked body.

“Let’s try upstairs,” he hears Ryce say, “They’re not on this floor.”

Harry waits a moment before turning his body to peek through the peephole again. They’re slowly sauntering off down the hall, clicking the button for the elevator and stepping inside shortly after. He turns back to Y/N, chest heaving and eyes wide.

“Penny, get dressed. We need to leave, now.”

It’s a rush, to get dressed and throw everything haphazardly into Harry’s backpack. Their hearts patter wildly, breathing ragged as fear consumes the pair of them.

It’s frantic, how he looks at her, keeping her behind his back as he slowly opens the door to peek his head out. He scans the hall, straining his ears for any sound of movement and when he falls short, he very quickly and quietly tugs her out of the hotel room.

Harry leads them to the staircase, trainers skidding across the linoleum floors with every step they jump down.

“They found us, didn’t they?” she asks through laboured breaths.

He doesn’t reply, instead tightens his hold on her hand and forces her to move quicker, taking three steps at a time instead of two and she struggles to keep up with his long strides.

Harry pushes through the door of the stairs, not slowing as they race through reception and out into the cool air of the early morning. It’s then that they break into a sprint across the parking lot to reach Harry’s Chevy.

Then they hear footsteps, the door of the hotel building slamming shut. Harry throws a glance over his shoulder, catching sight of the three lunatics that are after them.

They’re slowly approaching, picking up their pace as Harry and Y/N get closer to the car. He unlocks it from a distance and throws the backpack to Y/N.

He turns to her, finger pointing in her face. “Lock yourself in the car. If they get the upper hand, you drive and you don’t look back.”

The look on his face scares her, rattles her to her core. She tries to shake her head but Harry’s shoving the keys in the palm of her hand and pushing her closer to the vehicle.

The three of them grab him at once; Ryce and Scott holding him by the arms and shoulders as the bigger man, George, throws punches against his stomach. The sight of it makes her sick, has her knees buckling and heart aching.

Nimble fingers struggle to open the car, brain fuzzy as she rushes to throw the bags in the back seats. Y/N shuts the door behind her, locking the car again as her chest rises and falls with every shaky break she takes.

It’s torture, watching as they beat him – the way they pin his arms back and take advantage of his inability to fight back. He takes every hit and punch like a man, doesn’t allow his guard to falter no matter how hard the strikes may hurt.

And it’s like they see that, too. Like they notice it’ll take a lot more than a few blows to ruin him. Maybe that’s why George relents his assault for a moment and fixes his gaze to the car – to Y/N, cowering in the backseats like a lamb ready for slaughter.

And it’s when he slowly begins to stalk toward her that Harry’s heart begins to thump a little too hard. It’s when George starts to bash his hands against the backseat window that he starts to burn a fueling fire of rage.

He struggles against the hold that Scott and Ryce have over him, unable to tear his arms out of reach. Until he hears her scream and the backseat window smashing.

Y/N can’t breathe, heart lodged in her throat and tears stinging at her vision. She watches completely frozen as George reaches his hand in and unlocks the door. Watches the sadistic smirk that plasters across his lips as he opens the door and reaches for her ankles.

“No! Get off of me!”

Her screams are futile, her body breaking into hysterical movements. Her legs kick harshly at his grabbing hands, her foot striking his throat which allows her barely a few seconds to search for something, anything.

Y/N’s eyes avert to the footwell of the passenger's seat when she sees it. A crowbar. Her fingers wrap around the metal at the same time George’s wrap around her ankles. She’s pulled from the backseats, back crashing onto the concrete of the parking lot. And in one swift motion, her arm swings forward and the curve of the bar wraps around the side of George’s head.

In an instant, his heavy build falls off her – collapsing onto his side. She waits for a beat, her eyes wide and searching for any sign of life. There’s no blood, no sound. Tentatively and with trembling hands, she leans closer to his still body and poises her fingers beneath his nose.

One breath. Two, three.

She clambers away from him with a deep breath, unsteady as she rises to her feet. She’s allowed no time to process the situation, to calm herself. Because right before her eyes, Harry is fighting for his freedom.

This time, Ryce has Harry’s arms pinned behind his back, looping with his own and Scott delivers much harder blows to Harry’s face and torso. His legs kick out, arms thrashing in Ryce’s hold but it doesn’t do much damage.

Tightening her grasp around the crowbar, Y/N doesn’t quite know what comes over her. Whether it’s fear, anger or something entirely different. Whatever it is, compels her to swing the crowbar across the backs of Ryce’s legs – the shock and force of the blow buckling his knees just enough for his hold on Harry to relent.

Y/N doesn’t give him time to turn before she jumps onto his back with her legs around his waist and the crowbar wrapped around his throat. Her body moulds to his like a bear hug, an unknown strength unleashing itself in a desperate attempt to keep him from Harry just long enough to regain his strength.

And Harry doesn’t waste a moment of the opportunity. His fist beats against Scott’s face in rhythmic blows until his body is on the ground and he can’t fight back. Harry’s knuckles stain with blood and grazes, delivering a final pinch to the bridge of Scott’s nose before climbing off his bruised body.

His chest heaves, every breath feeling as though it tears his lungs. Harry spits the build up of blood in his mouth on the floor, rolling his shoulders back and flexing his fingers before they return to their fisted state.

Ryce is red in the face, fingers wrapping around the crowbar that Y/N pulls against his throat. The anger in her face is starling to Harry, something he’s never seen before — not even in himself. A hatred so pure it could kill.

Harry approaches them quickly as Ryce throws back his elbow and it meets with the side of Y/N’s stomach. All at once, her hold on the crowbar and him falters and she’s sliding off his back and doubling over on the concrete.

Ryce throws a punch but Harry is quick to dodge, despite the fact he’s still attempting to catch his breath. Before he rises, he reaches for the crowbar and swings it against the side of Ryce’s body.

He seethes out in pain, struggles to stand straight to fight back. He messily throws his fist, easier for Harry to dodge this time and he returns it with another blow across his knees with the crowbar.

Harry throws it to the side, watching with heavy breaths as Ryce tries to steady himself again. Harry doesn’t give him the chance. He squares his fist against the side of his face and he pummels to the ground.

It’s silent for a moment, aside from Harry’s rapid breathing and Y/N’s soft whimpers as she clutches her stomach and steadies herself on her feet again.

Harry backs away from the mess they’ve created, guilt crawling up his throat as he turns to look at her. There’s a cold expression painted across her face, eyes void of anything other than a predatory gaze.

She’s got the look of someone who’s desperate to survive. That’s what this is now, sink or swim. And she knows it.

They don’t share any words, just a look. But that’s all that’s needed. That one look says everything. They’re in this together — it’s them against anyone who tries it.

It’s silent as they both get into the car, Harry picking his keys up from the floor before he starts the engine.

It’s silent when they pull out of the car park, the sound of the cold air whipping through the shattered window in the backseats.

It’s silent until Y/N finally speaks. “Where are we going?”

Harry waits a beat, eyes focussed on the road. He can’t bring himself to look at her, to be faced with her expressionless gaze again. So he looks forward, grips the wheel and clears his throat.

“To see an old friend.”

//

His body is beginning to hurt as he pulls into the familiar garage. It’s been a while since Harry’s been here and everything looks the exact same as it did last time.

He kills the engine, lets his hands slip from the wheel and he finally turns to Y/N, who’s already looking at him. She takes him in, properly. The cuts and bruises that begin to form on his soft skin, the bags that protrude under his eyes from lack of sleep and a couple of punches he caught.

It hurts her heart to no end. She wishes none of this was happening.

“Are you okay?” he finally speaks, voice soft.

She nods, but they both know she’s not. Not really.

“Are you?”

He huffs out a small laugh and reaches for her hand that sits in her lap. “I’ve been better.”

She doesn’t understand it — how he always has the energy to try to make light out of any situation. Y/N looks away briefly, taking in the surroundings of the garage.

It’s like any other she’s been to. A few old cars spread across the place, some that are very clearly undrivable and others that she thinks probably only needed a quick fix.

Her brows pinch when she thinks about why they’re here. Is a blown back window really what’s important right now? She looks back to Harry with parted lips, but he already knows what she’s going to say.

“It’s my friend's garage. He’ll be able to help with more than just a smashed window.”

Y/N nods curtly, unsure if she’s understanding what he’s letting on. She also doesn’t have any suggestions as to what the fuck else they could do to help them out of this situation, so she puts all her trust in him and this unknown friend, and prays that her brother will keep them as safe as he can.

Her eyes look forward again, noticing a man and woman emerging from a wide door to the left. She looks back to Harry, a smile on his face as he opens the door and clambers out.

Y/N follows suit, shrinking into herself a little as the two unfamiliar faces grow closer.

“No call?” the man speaks loudly, arms across his chest.

Harry shrugs, walking closer. “No time.”

A smile breaks across the man’s face as he and Harry meet in a brotherly embrace. They’re squeezing tight, smacking each other’s backs until the man pulls away and gets a look at his friends face.

“Christ, H… did you even get a hit in?”

Harry smacks him in the chest and moves slightly to greet the woman. “Hey, Ashley. How’ve you been?”

She offers him a small hug and smiles. “Better than you it appears.”

Harry pulls away with a seemingly shy smile, turning back to Y/N who remains hovering by the Chevy. He points to her with an open palm. “Penny, this is Ashley and Jimmy. Guys, this is Y/N… Sammy’s sister.”

A heavy silence falls upon the shop – so quiet they’d be able to hear a pin drop. She offers a half wave, pursed lips and teary eyes. Harry is quick to make his way by her side again, an arm wrapped loosely around her waist to offer some form of reassurance.

“Jimmy and Sam used to knock about together,” he tells her. “Jim’s actually the one that found the club and convinced Sammy to take it on.”

He offers a polite smile and wave but there’s nothing but pity in his eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss. Sam was a one-of-a-kind kid.”

She nods, doesn’t want to reminisce on her late brother. Not right now. Not after the morning they’ve had.

Harry clears his throat and scratches at the nape of his neck. “M’sorry to throw it on you guys, but d’you mind if we crash for the night? We’re in a bit of a mess right now.”

There’s no hesitation when both Jimmy and Ashley nod their heads. “Of course, stay as long as you need. Come on upstairs, I’m just about to fix up some lunch, you guys can get cleaned up.”

Harry follows them through the garage, hand on Y/N’s lower back to guide her through. She stays close to him, far too on edge to be as trusting as Harry. She has to remind herself that they were also Sammy’s friends. And he didn’t put his trust in just anybody.

“Thank you, I promise we’ll be out of your hair by morning.”

Their apartment above the garage is nice. It’s rustic and chic at the same time and Y/N finds herself drawn to the canvases that litter the walls in the hall and living room.

Jimmy seems to notice. “They’re Ash’s,” he says with a smile. “She’s a wicked artist.”

Y/N hums, a small smile painting its way on her own lips. She’s desperately trying to ignore the dull ache in the side of her stomach, tries to play it off like every breath isn’t hindering her in some small way.

They follow through to the kitchen, the same sort of vibe with a wooden kitchen island and black, steel stools. Harry guides her to take a seat and sits himself beside her, both watching Ash as she pours them each a cup of coffee.

“Did the Chevy take as much damage as you?”

Harry scoffs out a laugh and takes a sip of his drink. “Still as mouthy as ever,” he quips back. “But no, she’s just fine – apart from the back window. That got smashed to fuck.”

Y/N watches them back and forth, how they talk with such ease, like the past twelve hours didn’t happen. It has her head spinning, has her second-guessing that Harry isn’t taking this as seriously as he made her believe.

She stands abruptly from her stool, the steel screeching across the hardwood floors. All eyes fall on her and she gulps. “Can I use your bathroom?”

Ashley nods, pointing to the door just down the hall. Y/N mumbles a quiet ‘thanks’ before rushing off and pressing her back behind the locked door.

She just needs a moment. A moment to think and breathe. This is all way too much for her to handle right now and she’s never felt so alone in her entire life. It hurts her heart, her head – everything. Tears are stinging at her waterline, threatening to spill over but she wills them not to.

A small knock on the door is heard and then… “Penny? It’s me.”

Y/N swallows down her feelings and unlocks the door. Harry lets himself in; worrisome eyes and tender hands on her arms as he closes the door behind him.

“Y’okay? I know this is all probably scaring you.”

She stares at him blankly. “Scaring me? Harry, I’m fucking terrified and you’re out there laughing without a care in the world, having a catchup with an old friend, while I’m just silently freaking the fuck out.”

He coos her, pulls her into his chest and ignores the pain he feels as he holds her close. “M’sorry, m’just trying to forget about it all for a moment. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I swear.”

Her breathing is erratic against his chest, hands balling fists of his shirt on his back. Harry strokes the hair from her face and kisses her temple, shushing her the best he can to try and encourage her to steady her breathing.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles into him.

Harry shakes his head. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for. Why don’t you go for a nap, hmm? Jimmy’s gonna take a look at the damage on the window and I’m gonna talk him through everything that’s happened… see if he has any ideas.”

While a nap does sound good, Y/N’s not sure she’ll be able to switch her mind off. She doesn’t tell Harry that, though. She figures he’s also got enough on his mind, he doesn’t need to be dealing with her fussing all because she can’t sleep.

So she nods her head and pulls out of his embrace. “Yeah, okay. A nap sounds good.”

//

It turns out it wasn’t as hard to fall asleep as Y/N thought it would be. As it goes, severe stress and exhaustion happen to have that effect when the adrenaline wears off.

Ashley was kind enough to lend Y/N a spare top and some sweatpants, washing her previous clothes so they would be clean and dry for when they leave tomorrow. She stretches in the bed of the guestroom, eyes flickering to the clock that reads 17:08 and her eyes widen.

She didn’t expect for a little nap to turn into five hours of sleep and she’s slightly upset that Harry didn’t think to wake her. Her stomach grumbles and it’s only now that she realises she hasn’t eaten in just over twenty-four hours.

Her fluffy sock-clad feet carry her out into the hall, light chit-chat coming from the very end and she follows to the source of it.

They all sit at the kitchen island; Jimmy, Ashley and Harry. There’s a frown set between each of their eyebrows but Harry’s soothes out when he notices Y/N’s lingering presence by the doorway.

“Hey, are you feeling any better?”

She hums. “A little.”

He pulls out a chair for her to take, Jimmy and Ashley quietly talking between themselves as Y/N sits with them. Harry offers her his drink and she takes the glass in her hands, swirling the brown liquid as she brings it to her lips.

“It’s whis—“

She gulps down his drink before he can even finish — doesn’t even care what it is just that any drop of alcohol will do for now.

He stifles a laugh and takes back the empty glass, reaching for the bottle on the middle of the table to refill his drink.

“What are you talking about?” she asks, all eyes now on her.

Harry clears his throat. “Just trying to figure out how to get rid of the guys that are after us.”

She raises a brow, somewhat expectant. “Any luck?”

“No, not yet.” She hears a voice, her eyes following the sound to Harry’s phone that’s on the kitchen island, Niall’s contact on the screen.

“Oh,” she peeps quietly. “Hi, Niall.”

“Hey, Y/N. How are you holding up?”

She scoffs. “About as well as Bambi on ice.”

He laughs at her comment, a hearty one at that. Harry smiles softly at her, can feel the nerves and anxiety bubbling off her aura in waves. It hurts to see her like this, so curled into herself and scared.

“So, let’s lay it all out again,” Ashley speaks a little louder.

Harry and Jimmy lean forward in their seats simultaneously. “As far as we’re aware, it’s just the three of them; the brothers—“

“—Wait, they’re brothers?” Y/N pipes up with knitted brows.

Harry nods. “Mhm. A lot of the guys that train at The Box were in gangs, the Scavello brothers were rivals to a bunch of them. They’ve all got screws loose, multiple personality disorders.”

“And schizophrenia. The worst case of it.” Niall chips in.

The newfound information does nothing to cease her fears. If anything, it only intensifies tenfold and Y/N begins to find it difficult to breathe.

“Right,” Harry swallows thickly. “So it’s the three brothers, all hellbent on getting revenge for Sammy not paying them they’re thirty grand. We already know they won’t stop until they get the club or feel… satisfied enough to move on.”

There’s something about the way Harry words it that makes Y/N shiver. She doesn’t know how much longer of this she can take, how much more dangerous it’ll get. At what point will they feel satisfied? When they’re run out of town? When they’re beaten and bloody? When they’re six feet under like her brother?

“They’re known for a lot of shady shit, too. Few years ago Ryce had stabbed someone in a pub… pretty sure he’s still on the wanted list.” Niall speaks again, like that’s the worst thing they’ve ever done.

Y/N has to bite her tongue. She doesn’t know if they’re aware of the truth about Sam’s death. And if they’re not, she isn’t about to announce it. She won’t allow for him to be remembered as the guy they killed.

Not now. Not ever.

“So have you not thought about tipping off the police?” Ashley asks, slightly incredulous as if it’s the most obvious option there is. (Which in all honesty, Y/N completely agrees with).

But Jimmy shakes his head profusely, clasping his hands together on the kitchen island. “No, no way. The Feds are already suspecting the club of illegal activity. It’s just going to give them more ammo. This needs to be dealt with in-house.” He points his finger downward, tapping against the counter.

Y/N chews on the inside of her cheek, the gears ticking in her head as she thinks of an alternative idea.

“What about a set up?” she suggests. “We meet them somewhere and… Ash, maybe you could call in and say you’ve driven past a group of guys attacking a couple…. If they get arrested it could give us some time to figure out something more solid?”

She knows it’s a lame idea, but it’s something. No one else seems to be putting theories to the table.

And of course, Harry is the first to shake his head. “No, too dangerous and they won’t fall for that. They’re insane but they’re not stupid.”

She slumps at his words, slightly offended by his tone but she doesn’t let herself get into that. Really, Harry’s distaste to her idea is the least of anyone’s concerns right now.

All eyes fall on the phone in the centre of the table, “Any ideas, Ni?”

He’s silent for a moment, then a huff is heard. “Personally, I think the best option will be to come back to the club. They’re gonna riot at some point. Might aswel be prepared for it. We’ll get the boys in tomorrow and figure out a plan between the lot of us.”

It’s a bit annoying that the simplest of ideas doesn’t suck. That logically, it’s probably the smartest and safest move to make. Because Niall is right. Eventually, the brothers will riot the club, and what the fuck are three psychos against a gym full of angry boxers?

The doorbell sounds through the kitchen and pulls Y/N from her thoughts. Jimmy stands, legs of his stool scratching against the floor as he grabs his wallet from his back pocket.

“Let’s call it a night then. Pizzas here. We’ll regroup tomorrow.”

The mention of food almost has Y/N’s mouth watering. They say their goodbyes to Niall, no one’s stress easing in the slightest but at least they have somewhat of a plan and she doesn’t feel so alone anymore.

Those boys at the gym would fight tooth and nail to protect Sam’s legacy. She just prays that it’ll be enough.

Not much is said as they eat their dinner. Harry and Jimmy reminisce on a few memories with Ash chiming in here and there, but for the most part Y/N stays silent and focuses on her food.

They stay like that for another hour or so until Harry’s eyelids grow heavy and start to sting. He’s exhausted, to say the least. His body still aches and as he glances over at Y/N, he can tell that the five hour nap has only made her more tired.

He leans closer to her, lips ghosting her ear. “D’you wanna go to bed?”

She turns her head just slightly to get a look at him. His face is a lot more busted as the night has gone on and the sleepiness that takes over his features pinches her heart a little.

Nodding her head, she stifles a yawn. “Yeah, you look pretty tired, too.”

Harry grins as he rolls his eyes, leaning away from her now to finish the last of his whiskey. He places the glass back on the counter, clearing his throat to catch Ash and Jim’s attention.

“We’re going to head to bed, long day tomorrow.”

Jimmy puffs out his cheeks with an exhale, nodding solemnly. Y/N gets it, can practically feel the anxiety that rolls off him. While he’s good at masking his expressions, there’s not much he can do about his vibe.

“Yeah, yeah, no worries. You know where everything is if you need anything.”

Harry guides Y/N off her stool and down the hall again after saying goodnight to the others. They don’t bother to turn on the light, instead opt for blindly feeling for the bed with their legs and Harry helps her get comfy.

She expects him to round the bed and crawl in next to her, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brushes the hair from her face and stands back with a gentle smile as he regards her.

Y/N’s brows pinch together when he speaks. “I’ll be next door if you need me.”

“Why?” she asks.

“Why what?”

“Why aren’t you staying here with me?”

He smiles softly, shuffling closer to the foot of the bed again. “Didn’t want to assume, that’s all.”

It makes him feel something deep in his stomach — how she craves his presence and wants him close. There’s a swell of something similar to pride in his chest at the realisation of how deep her trust for him runs.

“D’you want me to stay, Penny?”

She sinks further into the bed, seemingly trying to hide half of her face from his gaze. “Only if you want to,” she replies.

Harry’s smile grows slightly and he nods his head, kicking off his shoes and shimmying out of his jeans. She watches, rather closely. He’s right beside her still as he strips down to his boxers before he closes the door and approaches the other side of the bed.

The sheets are cool against his warm skin, small hisses and grunts slipping from his lips at the discomfort in his ribs and abdomen. It makes Y/N feel funny, knowing just how hurt he must be. She was witness to the assault, she’s a little surprised how well he’s taking it.

She has to remind herself that he is a boxer. And a fucking good one at that.

Y/N turns onto her side, her face just a couple of inches from Harry as their eyes adjust to the darkness, desperately trying to map out the others face under the dim moonlight that threatens to peek through the curtains.

Her ankles rub together as they do every night as she tries to settle herself for bed. Something she’s done ever since she was young. Harry can feel the movement beneath the sheets, but to him, he reads it as a sign of feeling cold. So he shuffles a little closer and intertwines their legs, resting a heavy palm on her hip.

“Harry,” she whispers into the night and he’s already looking at her.

“Yeah?”

She waits a moment, unsure if there’s any use in admitting her quarries right now. There’s nothing he can do or say to soothe her, not with the mess that awaits them.

And yet she finds herself uttering it anyway. “I’m scared.”

The broken octave of her voice is felt deep in Harry’s chest, that primal and protective sensation kicking in again. It makes his brows twist in something that can only be described as annoyance. But it’s not directed at her, Harry doesn’t think it ever could be.

“I don’t see an end where we all make it out of this.”

The admittance she whispers aloud is frightening to her. As if speaking her fear is willing its existence to the universe. It has her cowering into herself with shaky breaths and eyes tightly shut.

“We will,” Harry speaks, not allowing a second of doubt to build in her pretty little head. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Her eyes peak open slowly, readjusting to the darkness again when Harry slowly inches closer until the tip of his nose nudges against hers.

“Before Sammy died, he always told me to look out for you — in case anything ever happened to him. I keep my promises, Penny. No matter what it takes.”

She believes him, wholeheartedly. She trusts that he’ll keep her safe, that he’ll fight for the club. The blanket of safety that comes with Harry’s presence begins to consume her — keeps her close and warm and respected.

Maybe that’s why her eyes begin to droop until she can no longer keep them open. She cuddles into his chest, face nuzzling in the crook of his warm neck and his scent envelopes her senses as she slips into a slumber.

Harry can feel her soft breathing even out until her body relaxes against his. He lays awake, admiring the slope of her nose and her lashes that flatten across her cheekbones.

The need and desire to keep her safe prevails over any other senses. His mind falls short when he considers what he wouldn’t do to protect her, to give her the life she deserves.

And it’s not because Sam asked him to.

//

When the sun rises and the moon rests, the tension they felt the day before returns full force. Few words are shared between the four of them as they prepare for the day ahead. It’s like nobody wants to state the obvious, that this could very well be the last time Jimmy and Ashley see Harry and Y/N.

She tries her best not to think about it, not to get too deep in her head. She’s brushing her teeth in the bathroom, eyes lacking their usual glint but that’s no surprise — she doesn’t think it’s been there since Sammy’s death.

A knock on the door breaks her gaze from her reflection. Harry leans on the door frame, arms folded over his chest as he offers the young woman a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Jimmy’s just finished replacing the window. We’re good to go whenever you’re ready.”

He keeps his voice light and soft, not wanting to pressure her when their situation is already stressful enough. She nods her head slowly at his words, rinsing off the toothbrush under the water.

“Yeah, okay. Uh, just give me a minute?”

“Sure. I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”

He leaves her in the bathroom, bounding down the stairs as he returns to his friends in the garage. Jimmy’s wiping his hands on an old rag before flinging it across his shoulder.

“She’s all set, changed out your back tire, too. Looked like it was about to blow.”

Their hands meet in a greeting, chests bumping in that brosome hug most guys do. Harry sits his hands on his hips as he takes a look at the Chevy. As good as new, he thinks.

“Man, I appreciate you and Ash helping us out. You really saved our asses last night.”

Jimmy waves his hand in dismissal as he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s what brothers do.”

There’s an appreciative smile on Harry’s face as the door opens again and Y/N’s body shuffles through. Even from across the garage, he can see that glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes.

She approaches quickly, and by the way her shoulders are slightly raised and head a little ducked, Harry can tell she’s anxious.

He holds an arm in the air for her, allowing her to settle into his side before resting the arm across her shoulders.

“Thank you, for everything,” she says just loud enough for Jimmy to hear.

He nods curtly, leaning forward on one foot with an open palm for her to shake. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. I’m just sorry it was under these circumstances.”

She smiles through pursed lips and shakes his head with the same pressure he offers. “Me too.”

She excuses herself to load the bags into the back of the Chevy and waits for Harry in the passenger's seat. Y/N watches them chatter quietly, the mention of Ashley being at work and that if they need anything to not hesitate to call.

It’s merely a couple of minutes before Harry joins her in the car, twisting the key to start up the engine and as he pulls out of the garage, he throws his arm out of his window to wave goodbye to Jimmy.

They share a look as they drive down the road, a nervous glance that promises they’re in this together. Harry reaches for her hand in her lap and intertwines their fingers.

She doesn’t say anything as he guides their hands to his mouth and presses a kiss on her knuckles. And he doesn’t say anything when she squeezes his a little tighter.

They remain silent for the most of their drive. It’s late afternoon by the time they arrive at the club and it’s safe to say their guards are up high. They’re eyes are scanning every inch of roads they drive through, hearts thumping in fear and anticipation.

But they don’t see anything.

Harry pulls up outside, putting the car in park and they both exit. There’s an eerie energy that surrounds them, like the universe is taunting and playing on their fears.

They can’t ignore it, even if they tried.

They enter through the back door, feet scuffling against the concrete ground as Harry guides her through. Niall had already rounded up the guys with the prompt of a family meeting taking place. So it’s no surprise that they’re already gathered by one of the boxing rings.

“Thank you all for coming,” Harry calls out to everyone as he and Y/N make their way closer to the group.

There’s a few mumbles of replies and gasps at the sight of Harry’s bruised face, and lots of nodding heads when they come to a stop before them.

“I’m sure you’re all familiar with the Scavello brothers and what they did to Sammy,” a chorus of disgruntled expressions appear throughout the faces of the group.

Y/N can’t look — keeps her eyes downcast on the floor.

“Well, they’re no longer in hiding. They’re back and they’re after us,” he sways his finger between himself and Y/N, “And this club.”

Niall steps forward, inching closer to the pair who regard the larger group. “We don’t know what’s going to happen, but everyone needs to be prepared in case something does.”

Harry watches the way his members nod their heads and clench knuckles into fists. He can feel the anger and heartbreak that resonates within the gym.

“I need every single one of you on guard in case they show up. This is Sam’s life here. And we’re going to protect it like it’s our own. Understood?”

//

It’s been four days.

Four long, gruelling days of looking over their shoulders and Y/N keeping her keys between her fingers whenever she goes to and from her car alone. Not that that’s been a regular thing, Harry had convinced her to stay with him and his place. And after a bit of compromise, Harry agreed to stay at Y/N’s so she wasn’t on her own.

And it was a bit awkward at first. She didn’t ask for him to stay in her bedroom with her, allowed him to turn the sofa into his temporary bed. But by the second day, the awkwardness evened out to a disturbingly, comfortable, domesticated situation.

Y/N cooked and Harry cleaned. They picked shows to watch together and neither left the house alone. Y/N remains on emergency leave for a week, but Harry’s assured her that when she returns, he’ll drop her off and pick her up.

There won’t be a chance for the same thing to happen again.

Today is no different. They woke up together, picked at their breakfast — both still struggling to find their appetite — and drove in Harry’s Chevy to the club this afternoon.

It’s nearing 5:30 p.m. and they’re both sitting together in the office. Y/N’s sipping on her coffee with a Manila folder in hand, Harry typing data into the computer while taking sips of his own blend every now and then.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to host fight nights with all this going on?”

Harry pauses his typing for a moment, head tilting as he looks at her. He hums, nods slowly. “You’re probably right, we’re just losing money each night that we don’t. The guys are gonna start getting frustrated. For a lot of ‘em it’s the only source of income they’ve got.”

It’s a tricky one, Y/N knows that. Their livelihood is important, but so is their safety. It seems more likely that the Scavello brothers would make an appearance on a busy night like tonight. Friday Fight Night.

A thought occurs to her. “What about an advance?”

Harry’s bows knit together. “An advance?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “We’ve got just over two hundred grand stashed under the floorboards, Har. We can offer an advance to those who need it — they can pay back in instalments when we start up fights again.”

He mulls the idea over for a few seconds, not really finding many cons to the proposal. He nods his head, digging through the draws of the desk for a notepad and pen.

“Want me to go and take names?”

Harry shakes his head. “We need to get this place looking legit first. Destroy anything that holds passwords, account numbers — anything that tries back to the illegal fights. If they or the Feds come snooping, our noses are clean and they have nothing to say otherwise.”

Y/N’s about to reply, to suggest burning any correlating paperwork when a ruckus from outside the office and in the gym is heard.

They look at one another, eyes wide and churning stomachs. Harry stands first, bringing a finger to his lips as he motions for Y/N to stay quiet. The ruckus gets a bit louder, a chorus of disgruntled sounds heard.

Harry inches toward the door first, an arm outstretched to his side in an attempt to keep Y/N behind him. She follows suit, hands trembling slightly and she struggles to see over his broad shoulders.

But Harry can see. He sees the three brothers, but they’re not alone. They’ve brought a posse with them and their hands are all equipped with anything you could think to use as a weapon.

Hammers, knives, baseball bats. If it wasn’t such a dire situation, he’d find it ironic that Ryce is gripping a crowbar.

He’s the first to notice Harry’s presence and his blood is quick to run cold. He taps at Y/N’s side, trying his best to buff out his body to shield hers from their view.

“Stay in the office and lock the door. Text Jimmy and get rid of everything.”

He shoves her backward slightly, reaching for the door handle to close it behind him. She locks the door with nimble fingers, racing around the desk to retrieve Harry’s phone and find Jimmy’s contact.

It’s Y/N. They’re here.

She drops the phone on the desk after sending the message, opening the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. She can’t stop her hands from trembling, has to continuously replay the plan in her head.

Jimmy calls the police which gives Y/N time to destroy anything illegal while Harry fights them off just long enough for the police to arrive, and everyone prays that nobody gets hurt or killed in the meantime.

No matter how many times she reminds herself of the plan, it doesn’t soothe her fears. Anything could go wrong at any given moment.

It’s not just the three of them this time, they brought friends and it’s going to get messy.

She grabs Harry’s gym bag from the corner of the room and collapses to her knees by the desk. Her fingernails struggle to pry the floorboards up until she spots a flat-headed screwdriver poking out from the gym's tool bag.

It works to her advantage, a few good tugs and pulls and the floorboard pops up with a creak. She’s careful when she pulls it out completely, throwing it to the side and grabbing handfuls of the wads of cash.

Her movements are frantic as she shoves them into the duffle bag, the commotion from outside growing louder and louder. She fills the bag with the money and rushes to take off her jacket, throwing it into the bag to hide the cash and she zips it up, kicking it under the table and smacking her floorboard back in place.

Y/N moves to the filing cabinet, fumbling through the drawers in the desk for a lighter. The papers she retrieved earlier are thrown into the trash can, fingers desperate to spark a light but a thumping on the office door stops her — panics her.

It bursts open after the fourth budge, hinges almost flying off and there he stands, Ryce Scavello, bloody and bruised and gripping a crowbar.

All colour drains from her skin, a sickness within her stomach that’s all-consuming. There’s a maniacal smirk painted across his thin lips and the mark across his neck from her use of the aforementioned weapon still paints his skin deeply.

“Are you going to put up a fight as good as your brother?”

That fear morphs into anger the second the words escape his mouth, her eyes dark and blood cold. She flicks the lighter once more and it sparks a tall flame, and just as he’s about to step toward her, she throws it into the trash and the documents burn in a blaze.

Y/N dodges the first swing he throws, the curled edge of the crowbar nipping at her hair and pulling a few strands out of her ponytail. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears as she ducks from another hit and he laughs at her, sadistically.

“Well you’re certainly as fast as him. Did he teach you that, hmm? Did big brother Sammy teach you how to fight before I killed him?”

She does her best to block out his words, raising her fists to cover her face and her legs spread in the same stance Sam had taught her growing up.

She channels him, everything he ever showed her. She lets her brain reminisce about their occasional sparring sessions because Sam was hellbent on teaching her the right ways to defend herself.

Back then she always told him he was being dramatic, that she’d never put herself in a situation where she’d need to fight for her life.

And now, she can hear his reply in her ears, as clear as day: These situations find you, and you need to be prepared for them.

Ryce lunges for her again, catching her in the temple with his fist at the same time she kicks into his kneecap. The crunch of his bone is heard but it doesn’t stop him.

He somehow gets closer and wraps his hand around her throat, a vice-like grip as he slams her body onto the desk and knocks everything off, her and Harry’s coffees spilling on the floor.

Y/N thrashes her legs against him, fingernails scratching at the skin of his face as her thumbs probe harshly into his eyes. Ryce’s grip loosens just enough for her to try to shuffle away, but his hand is replaced with the crowbar and he’s choking her out like she did to him.

He’s seething above her, her own hands now desperate on the bar to try to pull it off, to give herself relief. It doesn’t work, he’s overpowering in every sense and the lack of oxygen she gets makes it harder to move.

Y/N’s eyes are frantically searching for something — anything — to use to her advantage. Her line of sight falls short until she notices the large metal stapler that’s hanging off the edge of the desk. She pries her fingers out as she stretches for it, nails scratching against the metal until she’s able to flick it closer.

The second she’s able to wrap her fingers around the stapler, her arm swings and it thuds heavily against the side of Ryce’s head. Once, twice, three times.

His hold on the crowbar across her throat loosens until he drops it onto the floor. Y/N’s gasping for air, eyes wide and chest heaving as he holds the side of his head in agony.

That’s how Harry finds them — Ryce on top of her on the desk, grunting in pain and anger. He doesn’t allow him another moment to regain himself before Harry swings for the side of his face and Ryce’s body clambers to the floor and off Y/N.

She’s frantic, struggling to grasp reality as Harry reaches her. His hands find her face, gentle touch as he coos to her, promises her it’s okay and he’s got her.

She gets a look at him, bloody and bruised and his bottom lip is split and already swelling. Y/N sits up with the help of Harry at the sounds of blaring sirens and she turns to him, swallowing thickly.

“Grab the money, we need to go.”

Her gaze meets the unconscious body on the floor, anxiety still bubbling in her chest at the realisation that in a few short minutes, this could be completely over with.

Harry reaches for the bag of money when he notices the trash can on fire. He doesn’t need to ask to know she’s burned the documents. They leave the contained fire to burn as they leave the office, both hobbling and gasping for breath.

Police begin to infiltrate the gym, batons in hand and guards to their bodies — as they would for any kind of riot. There’s at least seven officers, all shouting commands to get on the ground or stay where they are.

The gym is in distress. Photo frames and trophies on shelves have been smashed and broken, weights are strewn across the floor, some clean and some with blood. Their hands all reach into the air in a form of surrender and before long, the majority of the trainers and rioters are in cuffs.

An officer approaches Y/N and Harry, quite polite as he assures them he isn’t going to cuff them unless given reason.

“A few of your friends said you two are the owners?”

Harry nods, clearing his throat. “Yeah, that’s right. We were in the office when they showed up and then a fight broke out.”

The officer squints at Y/N and she squints back, reading his name tag as Jones. He looks back to Harry.

“Who’s they?”

“Ryce, George and Scott Scavello. They’re brothers.”

Officer Jones raises an eyebrow at Y/N’s words. “You know them?”

“Uh, we’ve had some trouble with them in the past.”

Y/N’s head snaps to look at Harry, wonders what the fuck he’s going to tell the police, if it’s really a good idea to mention what they did to Sammy. Couldn’t Harry get into trouble for withholding evidence about a crime for all this time?

Jones clears his throat. “Do you wanna expand on that?”

Y/N decides to speak up again. “My brother, Sam, owned this place with Harry before he died. The Scavello brothers tried to join the gym but Sam didn’t want that kind of riffraff associated with the company. They didn’t take it well and now, I guess this is them fighting it.”

Harry watches her with fluttering eyes, slightly amazed and somewhat concerned with how easily she was able to fabricate part of the truth like that.

Officer Jones nods as he jotts down a rough summary of her words, looking to Harry in case he has anything more to offer.

He blubbers for a moment. “Uh, yeah… what she said.”

He writes a little more, turning to look over his shoulder to no doubt report anything extra he may need to. It’s only for a couple of seconds, which allows Y/N and Harry to share a look that screams don’t say anything stupid, and he’s back to facing them again.

“So, you say you’re the owners?”

Harry and Y/N nod simultaneously, eyes downcast to somewhat avoid the officers gaze. He hums, scribbling some more.

“Do you have proof of that?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I can get you the ownership contract.”

Y/N watches meticulously, tries to work out what Officer Jones is writing by the way he scribbles but it’s no use. He taps the pen on the pad, looking around.

“Do you have any security footage? So we can confirm your story.”

Y/N looks at Harry. Do they? She hopes there isn’t a camera in the office, or else they’ll find the footage of her burning illegal evidence. But if they have cameras in the gym, isn’t that going to expose the fight nights? Her head is spinning.

“Yeah…. Niall!” Harry calls over for the blond, who quickly jogs over with a bruised eye and a cut across the bridge of his nose.

“Ni, would you mind showing Officer Jones the security footage from this evening.”

Y/N swallows thickly, watching as Niall guides Jones into the trashed office. She smacks Harry’s arm, eyes wide when he turns to her with pinched brows.

“Ouch… what was that for?”

She grits her teeth. “Why have you done that? He’s going to find all sorts on the cameras!”

Harry lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head. “We turn the cameras off at night.”

He watches her body visibly relax; shoulders slumping and eyes dropping. From their spot by the office, they can see the damage that’s been done.

Blood stains the floor in several places, gym equipment broken and there are at least seven holes in the walls that Y/N can see. She spots the brothers, all conscious now and strapped up with cuffs.

There’s a few more officers that take statements from the members of the gym, a couple of those being detained for aggravated assault and they don’t bother to argue that it was self defence. They played their part, they protected Sam’s legacy. And they know both Harry and Y/N will bail them out by morning anyway.

The adrenaline rush that she’s been on for the past week is slowly seeping from her pores. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt this exhausted in her entire life and the harsh realisation of what they’ve been through begins to hit her like a tonne of bricks.

“Harry,” she whispers softly, “I don’t think I can stay here anymore.”

He turns to her with pinched brows but her gaze is far too focused on the blank space ahead of her to realise.

“What?”

She swallows. “There’s too much pain here. Everything hurts since losing Sammy.” Her voice breaks as she speaks.

Harry blinks rapidly, trying to make sense of the situation. He thought they had something, that something genuine was forming between them and now she wants to leave? To run away?

“What about the club?”

She scoffs out a laugh, finally looking at him now. “You had it on lock this whole time.”

“Well what about me?” he argues. “What about us?”

There’s hurt in his voice and Y/N can’t help but feel confused butterflies in her stomach. Us? She never considered that there would be. Despite the two times they hooked up and the intimacy their friendship shared, she didn’t think Harry would ever want anything more. And now he’s telling her that he does?

It hurts her, deep in her soul. Because she harbours feelings for the fighter, strong feelings. But the thought of it scares her too much. What would Sammy think if he could see them now?

When she doesn’t reply, Harry speaks again.

“If you really want to leave, I’ll come with you.”

She laughs at this, and she laughs loud. Shaking her head, she looks at Harry again. That hopeful glint shines in his eyes and it breaks her heart.

“No, Harry. You barely even know me.”

“I know enough,” he retorts quickly.

Her hands find her hips as she turns her body to face his. “Harry—“

“No, come on,” he interrupts her, “Whatever this is between us is only just starting. Don’t walk out on it.”

She huffs, frustrated. “I’m not walking out on it.”

“You’ll regret it if you do. You’ll regret leaving the club and my Gran will be so heartbroken…”

“Hey,” she pouts. “Don’t bring Mary into this.”

“It’s true!”

There’s a wide smile on his lips now and one creeps its way onto Y/N’s, too. He knows what’s going on in her head — how she’s considering what he’s saying, what he’s feeling.

His gaze softens when their eyes meet again. Harry reaches for her hands, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles.

“At least think about it a little more before you decide to leave. Don’t make hasty decisions…”

“Harry…” she sighs, her smile faded to a slight grimace.

He’s right and she knows it. But it doesn’t take away the pain she feels in this town. It doesn’t make moving on from her brother's death any easier. Everything is a constant reminder of him and what happened to him.

Everything but Harry.

“Go on a date with me,” he proposes, though it’s more of a statement than a question.

Y/N’s brows raise as a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “What?”

“C’mon, one date. And if I can’t convince you that we have something real, and that you should stay… then I’ll understand.”

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth and weighs out her options. She could very easily decline and leave town right now, to never speak to him again or return.

But the idea of going on a date and seeing where this connection goes sounds a little more enticing. Because deep down she knows that running away won’t solve anything. It won’t make her forget the truth.

If she leaves now, she’ll never come back. And she’ll forever regret walking away from her brother's legacy and whatever her and Harry could’ve been.

He dips his head down to catch her line of sight again, a playful smirk etched onto his face as he squeezes her hands. Y/N makes her decision there and then; to not run away, but to stay and see where fate will take her.

“Fine,” she smiles. “One date.”

//

Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!

Tags: @kissfromadove @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever @babyyhoneyyy @theresnooneheretosave @ellaorchard @itsmytimetoodream @daphnesutton @matildasatellite

[reidsdimples]

Can i request something? But if you can't , its okay. Reid x reader, enemies to lover, undercover as married couple, Get gift from the other, play game, open the box, need to use whatever in the box. one of it's "vibrator underwear" then up to you...

Not So Faux Lovers

18+ ❤️‍🔥MDNI‼️

my take on this request, hope you love it! 🥰🫶🏻

"Oh honey! You shouldn't have!" You gush at your faux-husband Spencer.

"You have to open it!" Cara, the unsubs wife, beams.

They were deep undercover as a married couple. The team was trying to figure our who in this underground kinky sex group was trying to involve minors. You guys had been at this for weeks, this being the third party you attended.

You were just grateful Spencer got you guys out of the group orgy that took place the night before. You were dedicated to your job but not dedicated enough for groups sex to keep cover.

Besides, you and Spencer had started to get on each other's nerves. Both of you wound tight from stress and short tempered with one another. The two of you had been fighting before the party but played as if you were the happiest married couple.

This party in particular involved the exchange and mandatory use of sex related gifts. You hoped Spencer figured out something that didn't involve one of the party members shoving something inside of you.

He nudges you to open it.

You tear the box open, less than eagerly. It takes you a moment to deduce what exactly the odd looking item was. You tilt your head and pick what appears to be a wireless remote.

"That's for me," Spencer snatches it from you.

You hold up what you realize to be underwear with something in the crotch. It was a pink lace thong with a fucking vibrator in a small pocket in the front. You blush and swallow hard.

You had opted to get him flavored condoms in which you would feign sex on the other side of a closed door as you were forced to do once before. This was...

"Oh hell yeah!" Trent, one of the party members claps Spencer on the back.

"Go put them on," another girl smiles at you. "Let's see if you can control yourself when he uses it against you."

You fight the urge to glare at your 'husband'. He was eating this up, putting you in an awkward position and watching you get all flustered after such an argument earlier.

"Honey, would you assist me please," you hiss and tug Spencer out of his chair.

"What the hell is this?" You whisper shout at him when you both get into the bathroom.

"Thought it might be fun," he smiles mischievously.

"Are you serious?" You smack his arm. "How am I supposed to focus with you and that damned remote... You are such an asshole."

"Like I said, it might be fun," he exits the bathroom with a cocky wink.

You didn't know where this sudden shift in him came from. Perhaps the fact that the two of you have been playing these rolls for five weeks and were pent up after constantly being tossed into sexual scenarios and fighting all the time. He just changed the game.

You hesitantly pull on the thong and adjust the vibrator against your clit where it's meant to sit. This is insane. Yet you find yourself coiled tight with excitement at Spencer controlling your pleasure... that was new.

You pull up your skirt and exit the bathroom with your head held high. If he wants to play, let's play. You toss your original underwear at his chest and sit in his lap. You hear his breathing hitch in shock but he plays it off as natural.

"How do we know she's actually wearing them?" John, the unsub, purrs.

Spencer holds up the small oval shaped pink remote and presses the center button with nimble fingers. You jolt in his lap as the vibrator hums to life against your sensitive core. You grip the back up his neck and squeeze your legs together.

"Okay!" You bite out.

He switches it off with a sinister sort of chuckle.

You feel wetness gather between your folds as you adjust yourself on his lap and turn to the others who were exchanging gifts.

“I bet you’re wet already,” he turns it on the lowest setting and nips at your ear. “I’m sure it’s not because of me though. It’s just your body reacting,” he purrs condescendingly.

You elbow his abdomen and shift in his lap which prompts him to turn it off.

-

"This was great, thanks for coming!" Cara hugs you as you and Spencer exit her house.

Luckily he had only pressed the button one more time when John seemed to be inspecting you for signs of him using it. That was until you dropped into the passenger seat of his car.

He flicks the vibrator on seemingly a low setting and stares at you as he backs out of the driveway. You don't give him the satisfaction of responding but have to sit up straighter.

He moves his thumb up to the next, more intense setting and you can't hide your response. You squeeze your legs together and bite down on your lip.

"You are infuriating," you spit at him. You dig your nails into his forearm and tilt your head back. God it felt so good, you hadn't had an orgasm in so long.

"Spencer," you draw out the warning. A moan escapes you though.

"So pretty when you moan," he breathes. He focuses on the road, the streetlight flashing over him as he drives. You don't miss his fingers gripping the steering wheel. "So much better than when you argue with me," he smiles at himself.

You drag his free arm over to you and force him to press the vibrator harder against you.

He obliges and flattens his palm between your spread legs, the sight of his strong arm there is intoxicating. You try to remember why you guys were arguing but come up with nothing.

"Spencer," you whimper and find yourself grinding yourself against the vibrator and his hand. "Please," you cry out as your legs start to shake.

Your orgasm fires through every nerve in your body, leaving chills all over. You let out a series of whimpers as you cum, the orgasm leaving you feeling deflated against the seat when he turns off the vibrator.

You glance over at him where he is trying desperately to keep his eyes on the road. But you eye his cock straining against his pants.

"Pull into this parking garage," you point ahead.

He glances at you in confusion with furrowed eyebrows but obliges.

"Get out of the car," you order when he parks on the empty top floor. He hurries out of the black SUV and you don't hesitate to grab the collar of his shirt.

You crash your lips into his hungrily until he's leaning back against the driver's side door. His tongue greedily invades your mouth and he tastes better than anyone else you've ever kissed. His large hands explore your waist and run up your back as he moans into the kiss.

Your hand finds the back door handle and you swing it open, shoving him in with a giggle. Both of you scoot in until you're straddling him, you can feel his erection against you.

"Are you sure?" He asks as you rip his shirt open.

"Shut up, Spence," you pant and kiss him hard with your hands in his hair. He flips the vibrator on, causing you to jump. "Damn it, Spencer," you groan and take the remote from him. You turn it off and throw it in the trunk.

He smiles and lets out an amused huff when you shuffle out of the thong. You lean back and undo his pants, pulling his impressive cock free.

"Oh," you gasp.

"You can do it," he praises as he slips his fingers into your cunt. You soak his fingers instantly, earning a satisfied moan from him.

You grip his hair near the back of his neck and angle yourself above it. Your pussy clenches with need as you ease down.

"Fucking hell," he throws his head back. "You're so tight."

"You started this, you better fuck me properly before you cum," you growl in his ear.

"Still talking shit?" He challenges you and bucks his hips upward.

You cry out as his entire cock is shoved inside of you, forcing you to stretch to his girth.

"You..." you start but then he grips your ass and thrusts upward again. You claw at his shoulders.

"I what?" He glances at you, his mouth agape as he watches you take his cock with each thrust he gives you.

His hand curls around your throat and he picks up speed as you hover slightly over him so he can fuck you deep. He trails his hand up and grips your jaw while he shoves his pointer and middle finger into your mouth.

"This smart mouth..." he muses. "Sounds so pretty crying out for me."

He snaps his hips hard upward, his cock slamming into your cervix until you scream. While one hand grips your jaw, the other moves to your clit. He massages it harshly, quickly as he fucks you.

You suck on his fingers as tears stream down your face from raw pleasure. He felt unbelievable and you were getting close. You were going to soak him like this. You were a squirter when penetration and clitoral stimulation mixed. You worried he would be disgusted but as you wound tighter you couldn't stop him.

"Fuck," comes your muffled cry.

"Cum for me baby, show me how much you hate me," he teases.

His filthy mouth is the last straw. Your body goes taut and your head rolls back. He takes the opportunity to grip your throat as your walls tighten around his cock, drawing a moan from him. You explode around him, you feel the liquid pouring out of you and down onto him.

"Holy shit," he pants in awe.

"Ah!" You keep cumming as he thrusts into you enthusiastically. He smiles, satisfied as his cock starts to pulse.

His cum fills you deliciously as you roll your hips onto him, greedily taking everything he has. The flesh between the two of you is drenched, its filthy, its so fucking hot.

Your phone rings. Hotch, fuck. You glance at Spencer who is still inside of you and shush him.

"Hotch," you answer the phone. "No nothing of note tonight. He didn't mention the minors."

Spencer tenses his cock inside of you, causing you to bite your lip when you feel his cum dripping out of you.

"Yeah I can send you the photos from his attic, Spencer got some good ones," you start teasing him back by grinding your hips.

You clamp your hand over his mouth as you tease his oversensitive cock by tightening your pussy.

"Yes sir, got it," you tell Hotch and hang up.

"You're impossible," you slap his chest and lift yourself off of him.

"I've never seen that before," Spencer blushes. Actually blushes despite what just happened.

"Seen what?" You ask as you pull your skirt down.

"So much... um so much..." he stumbles over his words.

"You've never been with a squirter?" You ask.

"No," he laughs nervously.

"Cherish it, it's the last time," you smirk and hop out of the car. You watch him adjust himself and fix his clothes through the window.

"We'll see about that," he winks and gets back into the drivers seat. Ugh.

[b1tcht0p1a]

Feelings - Monster Trio

Fem! reader, but there is more gender-neutral wording in both Luffy's and Zoro's parts. Sanji does, too, but I was thinking more feminine. Don't worry, I will be making a male! reader one eventually. Rewrite of this post!

Luffy doesn’t come off as the most intelligent or aware of a lot. He’s smarter than he lets on sometimes. He's had crushes during his childhood and is well aware of what a relationship is. But he hasn't explored anything close to a romantic. It's unimportant to him, but that doesn't mean he's never considered it. It wasn't often, but these thoughts started up more often when you came crashing into his life. Especially after he got to know you better.

He figured that he liked you but shrugged it off at first. It was a small thing, it would probably disappear at some point.

But he was wrong, he found himself talking about you. From something big you did with him and the crew or a small thing you did that he found funny.

He'll do this when he knows you're not around to hear. He's not embarrassed about what he's saying. He just doesn't want to make things uncomfortable for you.

And even after repeated attempts to get him to even hint at this crush of his, he doesn't. And you're oblivious to the whole thing.

So when he finally comes around and just admits what he feels, you're blindsided. But once thinking back on some things, you understand completely.

You were on the deck, chilling and just enjoying the sun after several days of overcast. Everyone was enjoying themselves, relaxing like yourself, or doing some activity. You're in your own world, not paying attention to anyone, when the sun's warmth suddenly disappears. Cracking open an eye reveals Luffy staring down at you and picking his nose. "Can I help you?" He shrugs his shoulders, his finger still digging in his nose. He pulls it out and inspects his finger before wiping it on his shorts. "Don't know, just kinda felt like coming over here."

"Oh, why don't you sit down?"

"Ehh, no, I'm good. Just wanted to say you're pretty and that I like you." "Oh? Thanks-" "As in, I want to date you." He walks away after that, probably to return to whatever he was doing before or to annoy Sanji for lunch. You're stunned momentarily, mind wandering as you think.

Getting over how sudden the confession was, and thinking back on how he treats you; he was obvious with his feelings.

Checking on you first after fights, even if he's pretty injured. Coming to find you and hanging around you even if you aren't doing something 'fun'. Most of the time, he'll ask a question about what you're doing before walking away. The rare times he would stay, he would simply watch. Only a question or two here or there.

He also tends to listen to you better. Like, ask him to do something for you and he'll do it. (Most of the time, occasionally he won't)

Anyways, if you approach him and talk to him about what he said, he'll repeat himself. No shame. He felt ready.

He doesn't expect you to return his sentiment but does hope that you feel the same. At the end of the day, he wants to have you in his life. Significant other or not.

Oh? You feel the same? He heard you just give him a second. The words are reaching his brain.

He's overjoyed, he's laughing and wrapping you in a hug. He's running around the ship telling everyone. He still has you held in his arms the whole time.

Zoro is very special. He knows things, but fuck is he emotionally constipated. He tolerates you more than the others, aside from Luffy. He's capable of showing and experiencing emotions; he's not as stoic as people think. But he doesn't like expressing things that might make him seem weak. He hates crying; he hates romantic feelings. Even though he tolerates you, he dislikes being around you because you make him feel weak. He can't have that.

When he first realized his little crush on you; he started to push you away.

Only to stop doing this because it made him feel worse for pushing you away.

His crush is obvious by the way. He'll do things for you that he wouldn't do the others. And also if you get him talking about you, he has a lot of things to say. All good, promise.

He likes to hover a lot when out on an island. He says he doesn't but he is. He also manages not to get lost while with you. Which is strange.

Please don't talk to him about his feelings. He will get mad and walk away. Let him do it himself, and act surprised.

You just returned from a little shopping trip on the most recent island. Everyone went out, getting much-needed supplies but also some more indulgent things. You went off to shop, wanting to see what this island had to offer. Zoro, of course, had followed you. Standing right behind you, arms crossed and looking more like a bodyguard than anything. It's intimidating and some vendors seemed too eager to sell you things. Even at a high discount. Sure, it's nice not having to spend a bunch of money on something you really like, but the feeling of being rushed makes it hard to comfortably buy things. But overall, your trip was successful, and Zoro was 'begrudgingly' carrying it back to the ship for you. It was silent as you walked back to the ship. You had decided to take a scenic route back to the docks. Enjoying the vibrant colors of the town. It gave a perfect opportunity to speak to Zoro alone. You had been aware of his feelings and returned them. You had wanted to talk to him about it. Thinking it was best to do it away from the other, you waited to get him alone. The island stop provided a good moment. So when the docks came into view, you stopped walking. So did Zoro, though he was confused as to why you stopped.

"The ship is right there, why'd you stop?"

"I want to ask you something..."

"Okay? Why'd you stop, though?" You sigh deeply. You have to take your next steps carefully. Zoro is special. Being blunt felt right.

"Everyone keeps saying you have a crush on me. Yes or no?" He drops everything in his arms and stares at you blankly. Then you see it, he becomes flustered.

"You’re an idiot. What the hell makes you think that?" He stomps off before you can even answer. You had to carry everything back.

He ignores you for the rest of the day. Refusing to even glance at you during dinner.

He’s still visibly flushed btw.

He will come around later either that night or the next day. Begrudgingly apologizing of course.

He’s honestly expecting to get turned down so he starts talking as if you don’t like him back.

Dumbfounded when that’s not the case. Smiles at you before it quickly drops.

The others only know because you told them. There’s not much of a difference between dating and friendship. Just more affection.

Sanji, despite being the emotional person he is, doesn’t know how he really feels. He loves women. Which makes it hard to discern genuine thoughts from his perverted thoughts. And at first, that's what it very much seems like. A man with a little too much to say about feminine individuals. He understands that he finds you attractive, but there's something else there. This tight feeling in his chest makes it feel like he can't breathe. He's scared.

He's not as confident serving you as he is with Robin or Nami. He needs everything 100% perfect.

Because of these feelings, he tends to cook meals that he knows will please or thinks will please you. He lives for your praise.

He'd say things like "I love you..." or "Marry me...". Anything that he also says to Robin or Nami. It's less tossed out as it is with them.

Despite his typical nature, he can converse with women or feminine people in general without being his usual self. So he'd ask for help; it's new, and he wants to address it as soon as possible.

He is a lot softer leading up to his confession. More genuine smiles and compliments. Like small things. He's observant.

'Did you do something new? You look lovely today!' 'Wow! Those colors really make your eyes pop.'

Sanji had been acting strange the past few days. His normal pervertedness had mellowed into something actually sweet. He wasn't as tense, and he spoke softer than he would Robin or Nami. When he wasn't cooking or catering to people's needs, he often sat with you. Talking about interests, hobbies, anything about you. It was late, way after dinner. Everyone was off getting ready for bed. Other than you and Sanji. All his cleaning was done, thanks to your help. Now, you're both sat at the head of the boat. Both staring into the water, talking about random things. Surprisingly, the topic turned to the future and love. He's standing close, his face soft as he speaks. "I fear that my normal behavior might have ruined my chances." "Well, if it's anything, you've made leaps and bounds with that shit since. At least towards me." Sanji hesitates momentarily, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing it into the wind. He turns so he faces you. "Yeah, because it's you." The world has never been clearer.

Just pretend you are blind pls. He was so obvious with it that he thought you knew. But realized you didn't when yall would talk.

He almost walks off after saying that but waits.

Crys when you share the same sentiment.

Gladly tells everyone over dinner. Only for Zoro to say some dumb shit.

Nami and Robin are very happy for you, though. They were tired of Sanji's whining to them.

As stated above, this is a rewrite of this post. Do not plagiarize or reupload my content to any other site or blog.

Luffy 574 Zoro 606 Sanji 468

[zephyrchama]

Hide & Seek

The House of Lamentation bustled with activity. Not only had the palace residents come to visit, but Purgatory Hall as well.

While everyone busied themselves with socializing, Luke challenged you to a game of Hide and Seek. The house made for an incredibly ideal location. After several challenging rounds of both wins and losses where you and Luke battled impressively, the game started to grow. More and more started taking interest.

"Thirty five... thirty six... thirty seven..."

Luke shouted with all his might so that his voice would permeate the house. He stood in the hallway, facing the wall with his eyes covered. You hurried to the place you knew best - your bedroom.

"Hey, let me hide with you." Mammon appeared by your side, giving you a fright.

"Seriously? Find your own hiding spot!" You told him.

"C'mon, it's more excitin' this way."

He persistently tailed you to the bedroom. There was no time to waste fighting or shaking him off. You didn't know how good angel hearing was, so just to be safe, you opened and closed the door as quietly as possible. Mammon ran over to your table.

"This'll be perfect." He kicked a chair out of the way and squatted down, ducking his head to crawl under the table. He was met face to face with Barbatos.

Mammon jumped, banging his head against solid wood, as he shouted "What the-!?"

You and Barbatos shushed him with a hiss, the two of you bringing your fingers to your lips in sync.

"What the hell are you doin' here?"

Diavolo and Simeon popped their heads out from behind the butler.

"Quiet!" Diavolo said with a massive grin. The prince was having fun.

"We're playing hide and seek," Simeon smiled.

Mammon tsked. Under the table was no good. Under the bed would have to do. He got down on his hands and knees and lifted the bedsheet.

A pair of glowing eyes stared back at him, making him yelp.

"Occupied," Asmodeus leered. Something shifted in the dark beneath him. It was Solomon craning his head to see who had found them.

"Huh? You're not Luke. Hurry and go away before Luke finds us," Solomon told you.

"Damn it. Plan C." Mammon jumped on the bed itself and began moving the covers around, hoping a messy pile wouldn't be overly suspicious. He picked up one of the many plush pillows to unveil an arm.

"I believe I was here first," a muffled voice stated.

"Are you kiddin' me?" Mammon pushed aside another pillow to reveal a face. "Raphael?"

The angel stoicly nodded and grabbed a stolen pillow from Mammon's arms. He carefully laid it back over his face.

"I hope you took your shoes off before getting on my bed," you commented as you tried to wiggle behind a shelf.

"Don't worry, I did," Raphael reassured you.

Mammon was now frantically pacing around the room in anger, his eyes darting to find any viable hiding spot.

"C'mere!" he beckoned. "It's dumb but we'll hide in the closet."

You chose to stay put at your shelf and watch.

He rubbed his hands together as if he could make this the greatest hiding spot in the world and pulled the closet handle with a confident flourish. Several "oofs" resounded through the room as Leviathan and Belphegor tumbled out.

"I told you there were too many of us in here!" Satan's voice angrily whisper-yelled.

Mammon groaned as Leviathan and Belphegor smacked his legs, going "this is all your fault!" and "why'd you have to ruin it?"

"Hurry up and close the door," Beelebub said.

"You've gotta be jokin'. Let me in!" Mammon was brash and tried to trudge head-first into what little space there was, but couldn't move a step with two siblings whacking his feet.

Lucifer, Satan, and Beelzebub remained inside the closet. They were sandwiched in tightly.

"I was here first," Lucifer remarked, irked that his siblings had destroyed an otherwise roomy and nice hiding spot. His cheek was pressed against the wall, squished. Satan was not very happy to be pressed up snugly against his big brother as the middle filling of this demon sandwich. He looked ready to scream. Beelzebub was pressed against the other wall with one of your shirts on his head.

It appeared that every spot in your room was fully occupied. There was nowhere left to hide.

Time was already up.

"Ready or not, here I come!"

[diazsdimples]

SAUNA SEX!!!!!

*clears throat*

Can I have a lil snippet of Sauna Sex, please and thank you 😇

*snorts* I wonder which one Daffi is looking forward to most? You may indeed have more. Just cause you asked so nicely 🤣

When he's adjusted to the size of Eddie’s cock, pausing in the perfect goldilocks zone where he can feel Eddie heavy against his tongue, taste him at the back of his throat, but still be able to breathe, he chances a look up, his eyes locking Eddie's. He looks wrecked already, pupils blown wide, and his lips are parted slightly as he pants. The heat from the sauna has him slick with sweat, making his chest and abs shiny and the hairs damp and all too inviting. "Jesus Christ, Buck." The words are so quiet that Buck thinks they might have been in his head. He swallows, his throat squeezing around Eddie's cock, and he hears his partner's sharp intake of breath. Eddie’s head jerks up, tilting back so it’s resting against the tiered bench behind him, and he grips the wood beneath him so hard his knuckles turn white. Buck can't help the way his dick throbs at the thought that he can undo Eddie like this. That he's the reason that the other man is panting and writhing and moaning, being pulled apart bit by bit purely from the feeling of Buck’s mouth, Buck’s tongue, Buck’s hands against him. Slowly, he pulls off, until the head of Eddie's dick is held between his lips, and his swirls his tongue around, memorising the feeling of the soft ridge beneath his tongue, before he sinks back down, repeating the motion a couple more times. The next time he pulls off, he wraps a hand around the shaft, holding Eddie steady while he laps at the precome beading at the slit. Eddie’s hips twitch in an aborted thrust and he lets out a low groan as he fights the urge to fuck into Buck’s mouth, and Buck is half afraid he's going to crack the wood with how hard he’s clutching the bench beneath him. His own fingers are digging into Eddie's thighs, holding them apart, giving him the perfect amount of access to Eddie’s cock. Buck moves his free hand, cupping the back of Eddie's knee, lifting his leg to rest on his shoulder. The new angle has him opening his legs wider, and Buck settles further between his thighs, his fingers dancing across the skin, teasing the sensitive flesh on the inside. He dips his head, letting his teeth graze gently over Eddie's balls, and he moans aloud, the sound echoing off the walls of the sauna. “Shhhh,” Buck teases, the air blowing across Eddie’s cock, making it twitch beautifully. “We don’t want them to know what we’re doing, hmm?”

[phaelimbs]

"You might be wondering why you're listening to a tape from a guy you've never met before.

The answer is simple: you have to. There is no choice. If you're her lover, boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, it doesn't matter. You have to listen.

If you're playing with her feelings, you might as well quit now. Leave, tell her she doesn't mean anything to you, and go. You'll save her the pain, the time, and the memories. But if you think you truly love her, then you vow to listen until the end, and live after.

She and I met in highschool, a freshman who had only transferred from a different place, looking for new friends, environment, and a peaceful life. Ever since she walked into that cold, half-full room, my eyes had been on her and her alone.

I made sure to be friends with her, be the best company she could ever have, and be the safe space in times she needs it most. It wasn't long until we confessed and kissed and started dating.

From then on, we shared countless memories, graduated together, lived in an apartment near the university she goes to. Life is good, I knew who she is— from appearance to the very depth of her soul.

So if you're willing to stick around for her, I'll give you ten rules you have to follow:

1. Always keep the light on for her

- When you leave a room she's about to enter, always leave it on for her. She finds it disrespectful, as if it was disregarding her presence and the importance of her. It was often the root of her mood swings and our arguments, so in order to avoid that, make sure to never close the light.

2. Keep the snacks in a height she can reach

- I know that sometimes we like to tease her and put it in places far from her reach for fun, but if you do it in a bad time, it will not go well. Don't hide her favorite food or drinks from her, she will find a way to turn the prank back on you and make you feel guilty. Beware.

3. Let her listen to her favourite songs in the car

- Let her bang her head, sing as loud and off-key as she wants, play it on repeat for hours until your ears go deaf from the same tune. It's one of her favourite things to do, and if you love her, you'll be content with the smile on her face and the happiness she radiates.

4. Make sure to hear her side during misunderstandings

- See, this is something you should do with her or with someone else. Whenever you fight, let her speak her own perspective, oftentimes she does not understand things the way you do. Always be open-minded and patient when it comes to her.

5. Kiss her goodmorning, kiss her goodnight

- Part of her routine is to shower you with love, so always make sure to reciprocate. When you wake up first, kiss her goodmorning, when you sleep last, kiss her goodnight. Love her the way she loves you.

6. Remember the smallest things about her

- Whether it's her favorite food, drink, or even the side she likes to sleep on in bed. Make sure to write any information you learn about her, put it in your notes or a journal, and make sure to remember. Remembering is love, remembering is caring for her in the most normal yet wholesome way.

7. Show her how much you love her

- No matter how long it has been since you started loving one another, always find a way to show her your love in the most youthful way possible. Rekindle that love, strengthen it. I promise you, she will love you deeper than anyone ever has.

8. Never hurt her

- No matter how hard things get, never hurt her verbally, physically, emotionally, and mentally on purpose. Always be mindful of everything you say, because she loves you, and she will never do that to you.

9. Be truthful, be honest

- Even with your feelings, always show how much you love her, or the kind of emotions you feel at the moment. Never be afraid to speak your mind, it will strengthen your relationship.

10. And lastly, never leave her side

- Remind her you're there, you're there to walk with her through every step of the way. Show her you'll stay even through the darkest times, make sure to fulfill the one thing I never did.

I'll be honest with you, she might have chosen you because of me. A personality, a piece of me shining in you, it will hurt for a while knowing she loved you because of me, because she could never love anyone the way she did with me. I can say the same, but not in the same circumstance.

If I loved her so much, and if she does too, why am I talking to you? I'm giving you these rules because it's what I did, it's what I know she loves to see, hear, and feel. She loves to love, and I love her.

Give her the world, make sure to make her smile the same way I did, and the same way I will never do. Because the truth is, my time is ticking.

Sooner than later, I will be in the hospital, and soon I will die. I can feel it, the doctor said it. But she can never know this.

All she will think is about how I left her for someone else, how I disappeared. I already managed to promise everyone around her that they will say I am simply living my life, fulfilling my dreams without her. When in fact I am no longer living, and my dream is fulfilled because my dream is her.

So, before I end this tape, I'll remind you to follow the rules one more time. Love her, remember her, and stay with her. If you already agree with the rules before I laid them out then good for you, you're the man she needs. But if not, then keep them in mind, every second of the day.

If this reaches you, it is because a friend lent them to you, with a promise to never let her know, it will be our secret. If you hear this, it is because I am gone. So my final wish and will, is to leave her in good hands, and in good heart.

Love her today, tomorrow, and the years to come. Never let a tear fall down her eye because of you.

"Hey babe, I think the cab is here! Hurry before we lose the reservation!"

I'm coming, love."

[rosescrimson]

"You won't last ten seconds Satoru."

"bet."

tags: sub gojo x amab reader, sensitive gojo, nipple play, making-out, grinding, we glaze gojo sm

In a fleeting moment, you straddle him, and you lean in to kiss him; his and your saliva mixing, your tongues fighting for dominance, your hands run through his hair, slightly tugging it forward. Satoru pulls away first, absolutely breathless as he looks at you with glistening eyes, eyes that is filled with lust and desire.

You lean in again, this time you make a move on his neck, gently nibbling and sucking on his porcelain skin, "a–ah–!" and oh fuck. He's sensitive, really sensitive — makes sense since he has Infinity active all the time, you grin. You continue your assault on his neck, he's a whimpering mess, he sounds lewd like from an actual porn, he sounds heavenly.

Your free hands settle on his chest, eventually trailing up to gently pinch on his hardened buds, "hngh–!" Satoru moaned, he has the body of a slut. When you've made about three hickeys on his neck, you pull away to look at him, he looks like a mess, so fucked out from just a few kisses — and hickeys at that.

You lean in to pull him into another kiss, open and languid while your free hands ride his shirt up, up, you pull away from his lips, you move down to pop his left nipple in your mouth, you gently bite on it, "f-fuck! h-holy s-shit!" He squirms — and you hiss at his reaction, his voice is turning you on so bad you might just cum from listening to him moan and whimper, your cock angry red and twitching in your pants, you won't be able to last another minute. You buck your hips, yours and his crotch grind against each other, both of you needed that delicious friction, "o-oh g-god!" He throws his head back, tears start to pool in his eyes — he looks and sounds so fucking sexy, it's so unfair, you're gonna—

"S-Satoru, you can be a little q-quieter!" You look down to see your cum seeping through the cloth of your pants, you came from hearing him moan. "h-huh?" too dazed out to register anything, he exhales and he looks down, and he almost laughs he scoffs, "y-you came? how? already?!" you scowl at his smug expression, suddenly feeling the urge to strangle him, not really, "Have you heard of yourself!? You sound like a damn pornstar.. I.." He giggles, finding it quiet amusing. "Looks like you're the one who didn't last ten seconds." You scowl, feeling your cock go flaccid, that's a lie, "I'm going to get rid of that smirk on your face."

fin ★

[mcflymemes]

PHANTOM THREAD (2017) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

i cannot begin my day with a confrontation.

i feel as if i've been looking for you for a very long time.

you found me.

i wanted time with you. i wanted to have you to myself.

you are a very hansome man.

why are you not married?

i'm certain i was never meant to marry.

you sound so sure about things.

i think you're only acting strong.

maybe you have no taste.

you have the ideal shape.

don't start crying.

i'm not crying. i'm angry.

whatever you do, do it carefully.

kiss me, my girl, before i'm sick.

i want you flat on your back. helpless, tender, open with only me to help.

i think it's the expectations and assumptions of others that causes heartache.

are you a special agent sent here to ruin my evening and possibly my entire life?

why are you so rude to me?

why are you talking to me like this?

yes, this is your house. of course it's your house.

i'm surrounded on all sides!

you brought me here!

when the hell did this happen?

where's your gun?

stop playing this game.

if it's my life that you're describing, it's entirely up to you whether you choose to share it or not.

why don't you just fuck off to back where you came from?

is there something i'm unaware of?

don't you start using that filthy little word.

there's nothing i can say to get your attention aimed back at me, is there?

a house that doesn't change is a dead house.

if you want to have a staring contest with me, you will lose.

is this an ambush?

then i want you strong again.

i don't understand what you're saying. i can't hear your voice.

you might wish you're going to die. you might wish you're going to die, but you're not going to.

i can predict the future, and everything is settled.

i finally understand you.

right now we're here.

i'm getting hungry.

what a model of politeness you two are.

marriage would make me deceitful, and i don't ever want that.

you need to settle down a little.

you certainly won't come out alive.

i'll go right through you and it'll be you who ends up on the floor.

[name] has made my dreams come true.

it's comforting to think the dead are watching over the living.

i don't find that spooky at all.

are you here? are you always here?

i miss you. i think about you all the time.

i hear your voice say my name when i dream and when i wake up, there are tears streaming down my face.

must be quite a challenge to be with him.

sometimes i jump ahead in our life together, and i see a time near the end.

i just miss you. it's as simple as that.

i want to tell you everything.

don't pick a fight with me.

you are not cursed. you are loved by me.

who is this lovely creature making the house smell so nice?

there is an air of quiet death in this house and i do not like the way it smells.

i don't even know what that word means.

it does concern me. it concerns me very much.

i'm not moaning.

it hurts my feelings.

i don't know what i'm doing here.

i'm just waiting around like an idiot for you.

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 11/06

@ben-guy asked: […] Imagine the Greek god level drama that would have unfolded with those 12 drama machines if they all went God tier. Even if they all entered the human universe without the two teams fighting over who gets to rule it, there would be no ending the divides that would form for any and all reasons, from quadrants to rulership over Kanaya's new trolls. Kinda curious about your takes on all this, even if it will take a while for you to see this :]

That's exactly it. Vriska's assuming that having a more powerful team would be strictly beneficial - which is hilarious, coming from her.

Like - Vriska. What have you done with your God Tier powers, lately?

Did it benefit the team?

Anonymous asked: its really interesting how the first time vriska kills not out of necessity or due to any extenuating circumstances, she almost immediately regrets it

Yup.

I think it's beginning to dawn on Vriska that she has nothing to hide behind this time. She's stopped being forced to kill, and has graduated to choosing it. It's little wonder she's falling apart.

Anonymous asked: for what it's worth, i've always taken vriska's interpretation of sburb at face value. it's a setting, or a stage, moreso than a character or an organism

Sburb certainly feels like a narrative, which is closely tied to its coming-of-age themes. John isn't John in the game, he's a character called the Heir of Breath from Consort mythology, and it's predestined that he'll fulfil this narrative role - or else.

Sburb is a play. And if you mess up your lines, the stage will collapse underneath you.

@manorinthewoods asked: You know, during your original analysis of the Creation Myth reveal, you made a lot of notes about how the Denizen grist caches must have been comically large, or multiplicative, to allow the alchemisation of universes. Clearly there is no need for that, given the Genesis Frog, so… what is it for, do you think? ~LOSS (7/6/24)

This grist is confirmed to be for the Ultimate Alchemy, which I've been assuming is synonymous with the creation of the Genesis Frog. I guess Jade's currently creating the Frog without any Denizen Grist to speak of, but I assume it'll come into play later on.

My best guess? The frog has to literally eat the Denizen Hoards to grow into a full-sized universe.

Anonymous asked: I wanted to stop by and say your liveblogs are super interesting!! Back when I first read homestuck I didn’t really bother with analysis, just kinda screamed inchoherentoy at my friends, so actually seeing the narrative and char arcs broken down like this into understandable chunks of why might it be written this way, what is the char thinking, why are they thinking that, how does that play into what might happen - it’s super cool thank you for all this !! Anonymous asked: finally catched up with your liveblog, i have been a homestuck for like a semester and i am rlly happy to see someone go this in depth on a liveblog about it! Anyways! Whats the character you relate the most to, so far? - bralsra

Thank you very much!

It's funny. I've talked before about how I was never great at writing analytical essays in English class - but I'm essentially doing the same thing here, and I'm having a great time. I guess it's just more fun when it's a science fantasy webcomic and not, like, Nineteen Eighty-Four.

Who do I relate to the most, I wonder? To be honest, it's probably Kanaya, which probably isn't too surprising if you're a regular reader.

I've said things that are 90% similar to the shit she comes out with. She's so great.

@manorinthewoods asked: I'd like to hear your thoughts on each individual blood caste[…]. ~LOSS (7/6/24)

It's hard to generalize the blood castes, since we've only seen one example of each blood color thus far. Broadly speaking, we're aware that:

Lower bloods have more psychic power.

Higher bloods have more psychic resistance.

Highbloods appear to be physically stronger.

Kanaya's blood color is extremely rare, which implies that, contrary to my expectations, higher blood isn't always rarer than lower blood.

Beyond that, I can't say much more. Based on Karkat's position in the Trollian friend list, he was probably 'supposed' to have green blood, but I don't know if mutating out of the spectrum has actually changed his biology in any way.

He's not psychic, so we can at least assume he doesn't 'count' as being on the bottom of the hemospectrum.

@john-egbert-rose-lalonde asked: the searcherrrrrrrr

"why so discarded" - the drawer

Anonymous asked: Hey, since you like to experiment with stuff, what dl you think would happen if a Tier 2 Sprite prototyped itself into a Tier 1 Sprite?

Great question. I went in-depth into it during a previous ask - although I can imagine it's quite a rare occurrence. How often are two unprototyped Sprites on the same Land?

Anonymous asked: While I think a discord server is a good idea, I think it might be best for everyone if it's one where only you and those helping you with the blog can post anything. That might ruin the community aspect a little, but I feel like it'd be worth it to not get spoiled if you do ever make one. Feel free to completely ignore this- not exactly riveting things I'm sending here.

Right! Quick update on the Discord situation.

Initially, I was going to have Cat help me set it up, but she's been incredibly busy with her thesis lately. Plus, she hasn't really used the platform either, so we had no idea what we were doing. Might need to shelve the Discord server idea until later, or until it becomes necessary.

@krixwell asked: John Egbert when he's told the Earth is done for: John Egbert when his friend is his sister and his dad is his half-brother: John Egbert when he dies ignoble deaths at the hands of manipulators: John Egbert when Fruit Gushers are a Betty Crocker product: MENTAL BREAKDOWN

Dude's got his priorities straight.

@mhafanlol2000 asked: I’m taking an IT course next year, and I want a head start during this summer. Would you know any free beginner’s courses to any languages that would help in that department?

I'll always champion W3Schools as a great first port of call for tech self-learning. All the resources I've found there are well-put together, and let you test your code out in-browser.

As I mentioned to a previous asker, I'd recommend starting with the C language if you're genuinely interested in programming. It's a little harder to use than other, more high-level languages, but it'll teach you more about programming than they will. I'd liken it to learning to drive in manual, rather than automatic. You lose nothing, and acquire skills you wouldn't otherwise know about.

@caliquill submitted:

i'd like to briefly point out this tidbit of the first conversation eridan has with kanaya @krixwell asked: Gamzee to Equius, page 2221: "iF i CoUlD mAkE yOu SmIlE iT'd Be ThE bEsT fUcKiN mIrAcLe I eVeR dId PaRt Of." @dopplesgryndthloggle asked: I'm just gonna put this here: pg 2221 TC: WhAt CaN i Do To MaKe A bRoThEr FuCkIn ShApE hIs ShIt Up? TC: iF i CoUlD mAkE yOu SmIlE iT'd Be ThE bEsT fUcKiN mIrAcLe I eVeR dId PaRt Of. TC: hOnK hOnK hOnK! :o)

...this comic is going to go absolutely wild on a reread, isn't it?

Anonymous asked: oh god no, the clown got you :(

Thanks for the migraine, Gamzee!!

@5am-nztime asked: Insert the one millionth "The Heir of Void, Devoid of Air" joke you've probably gotten. I love dramatic irony

You're actually the only person who sent this one in - and I'm glad you did. It's kind of killing me.

Anonymous asked: a common interpretation is that equius smiles because he knows nepeta might find his body and he doesn't want her to think he died in pain :((

Shit, that's kind of devastating. That said, he had no reason to think Gamzee would leave his body where it was - but that said, he clearly wasn't thinking straight at the time.

Anonymous asked: fun little detail: the ==> leading to equius taking an arrow to the knee is replaced with an arrow, -->

He used to be a Sgrub Player like us :(

Anonymous asked: The idea that he somehow has the freakin' WARHAMMER OF ZILLYHOO in his jokerkind specibus but he STILL only brings out a low-tier pair of juggling clubs is somehow even more intimidating

Where did he even get the thing? When did he get it? Is this from before or after the Pen-Pal got their hands on it?

...if Gamzee is the Pen-Pal, I'm quitting the comic.

@morganwick asked: Well, as long as you don't know for sure whether Nepeta died, you could say… she's both alive and dead until she's observed? @ipunchvampires asked: By cutting away from Nepeta's fate, it's technically ambiguous right now whether she's alive or dead, since we cannot observe her. So you could say that she… heh heh, that she's Sch… she's Schröding…

....oh, god damn it.

Anonymous asked: I feel like there should be an intermission style counter. 4/12 Alien Children Murdered.

If you include Aradia and Vriska, the tally's up to seven. Murderstuck started a long time ago, it seems.

Anonymous asked: i would like to think equius says b100 like how boris johnson says blue in that one interview where he mentions the us brand new BLUE passports or whatever

I also think his voice suits Equius's character fairly well...

Anonymous asked: To be fair on the “overwhelmingly violent purplebloods” angle, Gamzee was stoned out of his mind basically 24/7 until they got to the meteor, so they probably would’ve thought it was a nonissue. […]

I suppose. But if everyone knows purplebloods are habitual murderers, I don't know why you'd ever let one into your friend group. There's always a possibility that one day, his slime delivery will be late, and he'll snap your neck for fun.

@wickedsick asked: You know, this would be the perfect spot for a paradox space intermission. You can read the fluffy comics to wash the taste of blood out of your mouth!

I thought about it - but in the end, I decided to liveblog the Paradox Space comics at the point in the comic where they were released.

Otherwise, Cat'd have to spoiler-check each comic with a fine-toothed comb, and I'd have to delay many of them anyway. Better to get them all out at once.

Anonymous asked: considering that eridan was on feeding duty for gl'bgolyb and had to kill lusii year round under apocaliptic threat im not surprised his response under pressure is to kill something

It really says a lot about the difference between him and Vriska, doesn't it? Vriska's reaction to killing Tavros was a full on existential crisis, but Eridan's first reaction to killing Feferi was to immediately kill again.

@witchoflight asked: hey sally i just wanna remind you of the conversation that dave and gamzee have, specifically about the line: "TC: My mInD'S NoT ThAt sHaRp nOw tHoUgH, iT'S BeEn aGeS SiNcE I HaD A GoOd pIe" gamzee hasn't had access to sopor for WEEKS, not since they entered the game. […]

Was he sober, though? He's still acting stoned, and using his original quirk, so if he did sober up, he must have immediately decided to pretend he didn't, and then arbitrarily reveal himself as sober later on.

To me, it feels like it just took a while for the slime's effects to fully fade. It might genuinely have taken a month for it all to leave his system.

@mimescantscream asked: Now that Gamzee has swiftly become the most important character, any thoughts on his transformation?

It's weirdly drastic, isn't it?

Like, if he was hiding this personality under sedatives this entire time, surely we should have seen some hint of it, in all the time we've known him. We've even been in his head, and he seemed like exactly who he appeared to be.

Was Gamzee unaware of this latent personality? Do we have a Jekyll and Hyde situation on our hands? He does say he's 'both' of his messiahs...

@elkian asked: You've now reached the point where I can (probably) say that the common fandom Exile match for Kanaya is Problem Sleuth, as he has the Vampire schema mode. (Plus a jade-green ultimate attack.)

Oh, I love that for her. We better be seeing Team Sleuth in some form before the end, even if it's just a cameo.

@krixwell asked: I think you're blaming the wrong chat program. Trollian is an advanced alien chat program powered by futuristic sci-fan shenanigans, with features specifically designed to allow the user to choose the timeframe at which they try to contact someone. Pesterchum, not so much. Pesterchum if anything is retro, with only the most barebones of 1-on-1 chat features, a status setting that barely changes anything unless you're rancorous, and a block feature that seemingly fails to recognize incoming Trollian connections from the same user at different times (possibly Trollian's fault). Even setting aside the frogskin barrier, it's a wonder the two programs can communicate at all. So when someone uses Pesterchum to contact a Trollian user whose timeline is entirely separate from their own, with no interface to pick a timeframe on, how exactly is either program supposed to know when to contact them?

I guess most of our nonlinear conversations have been Trollian-to-Pesterchum.

Karkat has tied himself into knots over memos, but that is admittedly a slightly different use case.

And can I just say, I love the concept of a 'frogskin barrier'. These two parties have been beaming messages from frog-to-frog this entire time, and the walls between their dimensions are literally made of skin.

@captorations asked: consider: this means that the sbahj joke that following kanaya's death was actually foreshadowing given the comic it's from

I can't fucking believe this.

Anonymous asked: tbh i'll never get over how the presumable FIRST THING kanaya did upon coming back to life was just. to wade through the horn pile to drink blood from a corpse.

Vriska's getting a little competition for Troll Of All Time!

@morganwick asked: I mean, technically Jade was already in the Fruity Rumpus Asshole Factory, it was just with two Karkats and Dave only made a brief appearance.

16-player fruity rumpus argument or we riot

Anonymous asked: do you think you'll liveblog tsg if you read it?

I wasn't planning on it, but if there's a lot of demand, I'll definitely think about it. If I was to liveblog any fanfic, it'd probably be that one, since it's a proper 'event fanfiction' from the author of TLT.

Anonymous asked: re: the ultimate riddle: karkat actually already explained it on page 1903. basically its just some more timeloop/alpha timeline predestination stuff

The sense I got was that there was a section of the conversation that we missed.

On Skaia, John begins a conversation with an early version of Karkat about the Ultimate Riddle, but the camera moves away before they really get into it. Then, on the Veil, an early Karkat shows up to continue a point he was making about the Riddle, implying that there's a section of this conversation that was deliberately obfuscated.

I initially thought that the Riddle was the mystery of Sburb itself - ie, what the point of the game is. I still think that's probably pretty close, but I do wish we got this full conversation, just in case.

Anonymous asked: “Scratch positioned [Vriska] as someone who will perpetuate a monumental, large-scale mistake, and I don't think there's anything she could do on the Veil that fits the bill.” When John was about to prototype jades sprite with a broken doll, Vriska made him fall asleep, and Becquerel jumped in the sprite instead, leading to Jack Noir becoming an unbeatable boss and destroying the trolls session. I think that could be the perpetuation of a large scale mistake.

Possibly. But as violent as Jack is, I don't think he's a huge threat to the rest of the multiverse.

He takes hours to rampage through a session, but there are presumably trillions of sessions out there in the multiverse. From a top-level perspective, he's not doing meaningful damage, and it's certainly within Vriska's comprehension.

I actually think Vriska's going to do something much worse than make Jack. If she contributes to the creation of Lord English, for example, she might be breaking something that can't be repaired.

Anonymous asked: Honestly its a little sad though right? That the troll kids are snapping and dying? Like yeah they were raised on a violent murder planet but also, they're all still 13 years old and have been without their means of Sleeping Naturally for a while (the sopor slime is how trolls usually get sleep) not being an apologist or anything but the murders could've been prevented with healthy moraillegences and good nights sleep.

Oh, it's horrific, that should go without saying. If the trolls had got some decent shuteye, it'd have kept them stable for at least slightly longer.

[ghostboneswrites2]

Hear me out: Early Seasons Daryl vs Later Seasons Daryl

Early TWD Daryl would have been emotionally unavailable, snappy, cold, and the ways in which he showed his care for you were limited to bringing you back cool things from a run, defending and protecting you, and sitting in silence with you

Late TWD Daryl would be a more tender lover. He’s had some growth by now. He’s learned to care, learned to love, learned to feel and express things. He’d drape an arm over you in bed or place a gentle hand on your back when he walked past you. He’d hold you and tell you it’s okay to cry.

Pre-Alexandria, he’d shut you out when things got bad. Post Savior war and especially post-bridge explosion, he’d ask you what was wrong and try to fix things, try to keep you hanging on. He wouldn’t want you to slip down that slipper slope of numbness and emptiness like he has before.

Romance itself was hard to come by in the early years of the apocalypse with him. He might find you a flower or bring back your favorite snack now and then. He might even let you catch him staring. He might not complain when you give him a little kiss on his cheek before he leaves.

In later years, though, just his eyes could soften in a way that made you feel loved. He’d brush a stray strand of hair out of your face. He’d fix your shirt as it slipped off your shoulder. He’d stop and tie your shoe. He’d disappear up the stairs after dinner and return moments later to tell you he got your routinely scheduled bedtime shower started.

If you had sex with him in the early years, it would be rough and awkward and aimless. Erratic thrusts with no rhythm, little to no satisfaction on either side, and a lot of awkward silence afterward.

At the prison, sex would have gotten a little better, and he’d start to recognize that your feelings for him ran a little deeper than surface level attraction. He’d try to do things to show you that he cared too.

Until things for comfortable at Alexandria, sex would half after the prison fell. Nobody had the energy or emotional stability for sex or romance back then.

Once things got steady at Alexandria, you two would fuck like bunnies. A comfortable bed? Hot showers? Nothing was stopping you two from exploring each other and learning new ways to please each other.

When things would get crazy and chaotic and dangerous, the sex would be quick but passionate. Maybe he just saw you for the first time since he escaped the Sanctuary and he’d fuck you in the bathroom at Barrington house just to regain some sense of control.

Seasons 1&2 Daryl would often scold himself for checking you out. He’d sometimes wonder if you flirted with him, but he’d always remind himself who he was to the group and how unlikely it was that you or anyone would show interest in the likes of him or Merle.

Seasons 3&4 Daryl would be a little braver. Lingering glances, making excuses to talk to you, an awkward chuckle. But he wouldn’t take it past that. You’d have to carefully tread toward the first move.

Seasons 5-8 Daryl would be protective but withdrawn. He’d be so occupied with everything going on that he’d have little time to spend with you, and truthfully it wasn’t much different on your part. He’d miss you, though, as you’d miss him.

Eventually, though, after all of his growth and emotional maturing, he’d be a soft, gently, kind partner. He would become a man in so many more ways than one, and that kind of change would show in all aspects of your life with him. Be it romance or intimacy or day to day life.

In the early years, when you’d fight or take time apart, you’d wonder if it was going anywhere with him. If it was even worth the stress and emotional neglect.

But later, when you two were getting older and your relationship got stronger and kinder, you’d realize it was all worth it just to experience this side of him.

[thenopequeen]

So, I've been thinking about how fucking haunted Morrowind is. And how I would show it if I could make a TV show of it. Or even if I could draw the things I see in my head.

Thinking about the big underground hall in Kogrohun, and about celebrating the alliance with the Dwemer. Sharing each other's food and music and dances. All if the First Council partnering with each other at some point in the night, because as far as I'm concerned they were all one crazy-ass polycule.

Thinking about the Nerevarine fighting their way through Kogrohun, not even realizing they are moving to the rhythm of music they can't quite hear, thinking that the shadows they see in the corner of their vision are just due to nerves. Even though they always seem to be the same shapes.

Thinking about how every place in Vvardenfell has been lived in and changed since you last walked there with different feet. Every House has changed and moved, except the House Unmourned.

Thinking about how the brass walls of Dwemer cities should be reflecting back things and people you don't (consciously) remember. How if you had only stopped to look, you might have seen Foul Murder foggily reflected back at you in the entry to the Citadel that has no name but Dagoth Ur now. (What did it used to be? If Kagrenzel is the City of Kagren, what would be the Laboratory of Kagrenac?)

Thinking about how if you stop to catch your breath before entering the Heart Antichamber, would you see Voryn's eyes looking back at you over the shoulder that of a body that used to be yours? If so, that would be the first time anyone has looked into those eyes in four thousand years.

[justleaveatnine]

casino matty bluetooth vibe i'm having visions

anything for you mads xx

your arms are braced tightly against the sink. you're leaning down, breathing raggedly and mouth tightening to avoid making a sound. your muscles spasm and tighten as you come for nearly the hundredth time. you lost count ages ago. it's practically all just a blur of pleasure now, orgasms occurring in rapid succession.

you turn around to look towards the group and find matty's gaze already on yours, taunting and glinting with delicious cruelty. he return to dealing the cards and conversing with the players, but you see the grin on his face and his tongue sticking out against his bottom lip cheekily.

you focus hard to tune into the conversation at hand, and nearly collapse with relief when you hear the group mentioning that this would be their last game.

you're practically a zombie, moving on auto-pilot as pleasure consumes you completely. you feel the vibrator suddenly increase in speed, and you have to clasp a hand to your mouth to prevent moaning.

your eyes are clenched impossibly tight. you fight to open them and see matty grinning at your suffering with his hand in his pocket, the group chatting and slowly packing up their things.

you turn around and walk back towards the sink, unable to muster the strength to speak with them. the vibrator continues at the faster pace as you pretend to clean dishes to the noises of the group leaving and saying their goodbyes.

you hear matty's boots step along the floor as he approaches you, and you're so overstimulated that when he reaches out to embrace you, tears begin to stream down your face. you breathe in his familiar scent, and collapse into his chest as he holds you up.

you shake in his arms as he coos, his ring-clad hand stroking your hair. you sniffle against his shirt, and your arms reach out to claw against him, desperate to brace yourself against something.

he reaches down to tip your chin up to him, looking down at you with reverence. you think he might tell you did well, give you a kiss before removing the vibrator, and walking you back to your room.

instead, he grins, deadly and bright. "one more time for me, princess," he tells you.

you nearly burst into tears once more. you shake your head vehemently, stammering "no, no, matty, please, i can't-"

"shhh, love. what did i say about the backtalk?" your mind flashes back lying over his lap, gazing at the bruises of his initialed ring against your skin, his soft voice matched with his deliciously hard strikes.

he gazes into your eyes for a moment, waiting for you to utter the word you know will make him stop immediately. but you don't. you'd never stop this in a million years, and he knows that just as well.

"yes, sir" you nod, defeated and near tears once more.

"good girl," matty says, pressing a kiss to your hair. he reaches into his pocket and turns the vibrator up one final time. if you had the ability to think, you'd be surprised it could increase anymore. but your mind is long gone, overwhelmed with pleasure and stimulation. your blood is burning, the feeling of the vibrations driving you nearly mad.

matty's arms hold tight around you as you tremble, your chest rising up and down rapidly. you claw at his back uselessly, and your legs nearly give out below you. you can feel his gaze upon you, watching your blissed out expression with rapt, predatory attention.

that coil deep within you begins to tighten once more, and as he mutters, "that's it, good girl," your orgasm overtakes you. your body is limp, and you lie like a doll in his arms. you feel his hands trace against your skin as he murmurs praise in your ear.

a dopey smile overtakes your face as you lie still, overwhelmed with the pleasure and the feeling of him. you lean into him, and use the ounce of strength you have remaining to press a kiss to where his shirt exposes his chest.

one of his hands caresses softly from your waist to your core. you let out a whimper as he brushes over your overstimulated clit and carefully removes the vibrator. he pauses, and then his hand slowly moves lower, and you gasp as it gets closer to your bottom. it hesitates before just so slightly entering you, only the tip brushing within. your eyes practically roll into the back of your head.

you feel his mouth crest against your ear. his breath is hot as he speaks. "next time i might just have this pretty little hole plugged up as well."

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 3

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Warnings: MDNI, violence, minor character death, general filth, mild smut, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), and Daemon Targaryen is his own warning 

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: 2.2K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

AKA: You fall through worlds and wake up in our favorite blondes’ bed. SHAMELESS “reader falls into HOTD world from our world” trope (I’m sorry, I CANNOT help myself, I’m a sucker for them). There’s not really a plot plot, but if you stay long enough we might run into one.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

You gaze out across the stadium, shocked at the hundreds of people clamoring to see the violence and pageantry of the tournament. Your hands smooth down your dress anxiously. Rhaenyra picked a beautiful gown. The deep red of the gown is offset with gold embroidery along your shoulders and waist. The patterns resemble dragon scales, glistening as the light hits it.

Rhaenyra looks over, seeing your anxious movements and grabbing your hand to still the gesture. She brings it up to her mouth, kissing the back of your hand before she turns to address the crowd.

“Be welcome!” She shouts. “I know that many of you have traveled great distances to witness these games. I trust you will not be disappointed.”

The crowd’s cheers are deafening, but Rhaenyra continues once they die down to a dull roar. “Looking across the fine knights here today, I see a group without equal. May the luck of the seven shine on our combatants!”

She raises your joined hands in a cheer. You brace yourself for whatever disapproval might come from the crowd. If two women in modern days still got weird looks in public, you weren’t sure you were ready for whatever reaction this medieval world would have. The crowd continues to cheer, and you swear you can hear someone shouting “all hail the queens.” 

Rhaenyra pulls you in for a chaste kiss before motioning for the tourney announcer to take over. Your cheeks are on fire from her very public display of affection. “I wasn’t expecting that reaction,” you admitted as you both took your seats. 

“Whatever do you mean, darling?”

“I-” you pause for a moment. “You know? I just didn’t think people would be so accepting of our relationship?”

Rhaenyra laughs, “the smallfolk have always adored you. How could they not?”

“It’s just that people where I’m from-”

“You’re from here.” Rhaenyra interrupts, frowning. “Your place is with me, with us. Our people–your people–would fight wars in your name.”

You sigh in frustration. Rhaenyra, Daemon, and the maester were still convinced that you fell and all the memories of your past life were just an odd dream. It wasn’t a frequent argument, but one that never failed to begin at the most inconvenient times.

When you don’t respond, Nyra cups your face in her hands and forces you to look her in the eyes. “Do you know what the smallfolk see when they look at you?”

“Nyra-”

“They see the same thing that I see,” she says. “A queen.” Your hand comes up to cover hers as you lean into her palm. 

Rhaenyra’s thumb gently strokes your cheek. “I love you. It doesn’t matter where you came from, you’re here now. You’re here, and you’re mine. Never forget that.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. “It’s not fair,” you whisper. “You always know exactly what to say.”

Before Rhaenyra can respond, a yell from the arena draws your attention. “My queen! My lady!” Daemon’s voice reverberates through the stadium. Both you and Rhaenyra walk to the edge of the balcony, and the site nearly takes your breath away. Your husband is terrifying in his armor, and so, so, so attractive. 

“Fuck,” you swear. The dark armor is covered in the Targaryen crest and adorned with dragon-reminiscent flairs throughout the pieces. Daemon removes his helmet, shaking our his hair and preening at the attention.

“My beautiful wives, I am certain that I will win this tournament.” Daemon boasts. “But with your favor, there will be no doubt.” 

Rhaenyra laughs, “I don’t know. Should we offer our dear husband our favor?” 

“Hmmm,” you pretend to think it over. “I fear there are many knights worthy of this honor. How am I to deci-”

“My love, must I get on my knees to beg your favor,” Daemon teases.

“It would certainly be a start,” you smirk. “I suppose I can give you our favor, on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Win this tourney swiftly so we might celebrate your victory together.” You say, grabbing the favor.

Daemon winks at you, raising his fist as the crowd roars in approval. You watch your husband ride out to meet his first opponent. 

“You know we are never going to hear the end of it if he wins,” Rhaenyra sighs. Daemon takes his place across from the other knight, placing his helmet back on and adjusting his grip on the jousting lance. 

“Was there ever a doubt he would?” you ask as Daemon and his opponent charge at each other on horseback. The crash as the lance hit lands and breaks is unsettling. Daemon’s opponent flies from his saddle, landing hard on the ground.

“True,” Rhaenyra agrees. Daemon tosses the broken half of his lance, jumping to the ground and drawing his sword. “Next year I plan to find Daemon a real challenge.” Daemon stalks in a circle around his opponent, waiting for the knight to regain his footing and draw his weapon. The knight recovers, going on the offensive to swipe his sword at Daemon.

You snort in amusement. “Are the rest of the knights really that bad?” Daemon easily dances around blows, not even bothering to waste his energy by parrying them. He’s toying with the other knight. Letting him exhaust and embarrass himself in the arena before Daemon ends the fight. You see the ghost of a smirk play on Daemon’s lips as he tosses his helmet to the ground.

“No, they’re actually quite skilled,” Rhaenyra replies. The knight’s attacks become harder and more calculated. Daemon parries them with practiced ease. You see the knight lean in as he gets closer to say something to Daemon. They’re too soft for anyone else to hear, but Daemon clearly heard them. His smirk drops and his gaze darkens. 

He’s ending this now. Daemon pushes the knight back, swinging a hard blow with his sword.

“Daemon is just….” The knight scrambles to parry the swing, but the blow is hard enough to dislodge his grip. Your eyes widen in shock, Daemon is ending more than this fight. You instantly snap your eyes shut, but you can still hear Rhaenyra’s words in time with Daemon’s strikes.

“That.” 

“Much.” 

“Better.”

The knight’s screams stop with the final blow. You open your eyes to peak at the scene in front of you. The knight is unmoving on the ground. His armor dented in. His sword hand on one side of the arena. His head at the other.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you mutter.

“A Targaryen tourney without at least one death would be considered boring.”

Your eyes land on your husband. He’s looming over the headless body of the knight. Daemon spits on the corpse before walking away.

Even Rhaenyra is shocked, but regardless, the tournament continues on throughout the late afternoon. The other fights are nowhere near as violent as Daemon’s round. Daemon is eerily calm as he wins his rounds with brutal efficiency. He doesn’t kill another opponent, but he makes light work of each one. 

After the stadium clears out, you walk with the maids back to your chambers as Rhaenyra left to greet some of the noble houses who haven’t visited Kings Landing since the last tournament. When you get back, you ask the maids to draw a bath and you gather up Daemon’s favorite soaps and oils. You didn’t realize just how serious a tournament was. After seeing that brutality, you were just relieved that Daemon was coming back safe.

The doors to your chambers shuts loudly,and you turn to see Daemon still in his armor. “Daemon-” He cuts you off with a kiss, sweeping you off your feet. 

“I need you.” Daemon says, pulling at your gown as he struggles to unlace the back. Growling in frustration, he tears the fabric. 

“Daemon! What’s gotten into you?” You yelp. “At least take off that damn armor first!”

“Fuck,” he swears, backing away from you as he begins slipping off his armor piece by piece. You reach forward to help him.

Once he’s rid himself of the armor, Daemon picks you up. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, and he grinds against you. He kisses and bites at your neck like a starved man. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips as you tug roughly at his hair. “Daemon, wait,” you say breathlessly. 

“Hmm,” he rumbles as he pulls back. 

“If you keep going, it’s going to ruin my plans,” you whine. “I wanted to spoil you. Please get in the bath before it gets cold.”

Daemon follows your gaze to the tub and sees your handiwork–candles meticulously placed around a steaming bath. The table next to the tub piled high with luxurious oils, wine, and fruits. “You did this for me?” He asks. You nod vigorously and he captures your lips in a heated kiss. “Gods above, you never fail to surprise me.”

You giggle as Daemon carries you to the tub and you both sink into the water. Daemon moans as the water eases over his sore muscles. You shift so that Daemon is leaning back against your chest and begin meticulously scrubbing his body. “You’re so perfect,” he groans as you massage at the knots in his shoulders. 

You hum in response, focusing on the knots. You find yourself softly singing as you work, and you glance down to see Daemon nodding off. Moving to work on his hair, you gently detangle his braids and massage the soap into his scalp.

“Love,” you begin, “what happened in that first fight?” You feel Daemon’s body stiffen against yours. 

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure? It didn’t seem like nothing.” You answer. 

“It. Was. Nothing.” He’s definitely hiding something.

“No it wasn’t,” you insist. “He said something and you lost it. What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Daemon’s tone is short, but it’s clear he’s still upset over whatever that knight said.

“Yes it does, just te-”

“He called you a whore!” Daemon shouts, whipping around in the tub. “That spineless bastard called you a whore, and asked if he could take a turn after you finished eating Rhaenyra’s cunt on the balcony.”

You blink. Shocked. You assumed it was bad, but didn’t realize it would be quite that vulgar. “And you killed him for it?”

“If I could go back, I wouldn’t kill him,” Daemon bares his teeth as he hisses out the words.

You raise a brow in response.

“I would cut him apart piece by piece until he begged for death,” Daemon growls. “And when he’s on the brink of death, I would call for the maester to heal him so I could do it all over again.”

“Fuck,” you swear. Hearing your husband’s bloodthirst shouldn’t be this hot. Your breath quickens, and you shift.

Daemon notices your sudden shift in demeanor. “I see,” he grins. “I kill a man for disrespecting you, and all you can think about is my cock.”

You whine, desperate for Daemon to touch you. After he and Rhaenyra left you wanting this morning, you’ve been on edge all day. Daemon stands up, water sloshing from the tub as he climbs out and pours a glass of wine. He sips a mouthful before leaning down to kiss you. You moan as the wine hits your tongue. Daemon pulls back, popping a grape in your mouth before picking you from the tub and tossing you on the bed.

“I’ll just have to give my sweet girl exactly what she wants,” Daemon says. He drips wine across your body, lapping up the drops as he follows the trail with his tongue. Daemon knocks back the rest of his wine, placing the chalice on the dresser. He settles between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he dives into your cunt.

Daemon’s tongue swipes broad strokes across your cunt, lapping greedily. He suckles at your clit, and you cry out in pleasure as his hums vibrate against you.

“What is this?”

You try to shoot up to greet Rhaenyra, but Daemon’s arms have you locked in place. “Rha-Rhae-fuck-Rhaenyra” You struggle to speak as you feel your orgasm building. Your eyes roll back as Daemon moves an arm to slide two fingers into your weeping cunt. Moans fall from your lips as you buck into his mouth and hands.

Just before you climax, Daemon pulls back. “My queen,” he greets as Rhaenyra leans in for a kiss. 

“I take it our girl couldn’t wait?”

Daemon grins. “She never does.”

NOTE: This was supposed to just be smut, but I got carried away. Anyway, hope you enjoyed bloodthirsty Daemon, I know I did. Next part coming Friday or Saturday night (and yes, it’s going to pick up RIGHT where we left off). I have two delicious requests in the works: 1) a Feyd Rautha request (featuring the iconic darlings), and 2) a Daemon request (featuring some angst and steamy make-up sex). ~ Lacie <3

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[anothercrisis]

could we possibly get some more civilians au hcs? i read through all of them and now i’m invested

Wake up! I’m alive and still brainrotting about the civvie au!

What I would like to talk about today is the way I managed to include the callsigns and ranks :)

-

During their childhood in the foster care system, Johnny and Kyle didn’t have many constants, apart from each other. Every situation was different, every home had a different set of rules. In some, they weren’t allowed to watch television, which was one of the rules they hated to discover the most. Stories were oftentimes the only times they got a break from the reality they lived in. And their abilities to read were still developing at this time, so turning to books didn’t always work.

Johnny learned to read before Gaz, who struggled then explained to Johnny that the words never stayed in the right order when he was trying to read them, so Johnny took to reading out-loud so his brother could enjoy the stories too.

They often read the same book, one that Johnny lifted from a particularly horrible man who’d had custody of them for a grand total of six hours (which was six hours too long in Johnny’s opinion, which is why he quickly evacuated Kyle and himself from the property) and that he’s kept with him ever since. It was a collection of military stories that told of brave men fighting hard battles and overcoming difficult situations. The book had been in the children’s room Johnny and Kyle had been locked in, on the small shelf stocked with similar books for the foster children to read. Johnny had impulsively shoved it into his bag before climbing out the window simply because of the way the cover made him feel brave.

Those stories allowed Johnny and Kyle to adopt the mindsets of soldiers, helped them cope and make sense of their difficult situation.

“Kyle is a soldier and I’m his Captain. ‘Tis ma job to look after ‘im and I can’t do that when this fucked system keeps separatin’ us.”

By this time, Johnny was building himself quite the reputation. The social workers started to refer to him as “Soap” because of how efficient he was at slipping himself out and then in to homes whenever he was separated from Kyle and how he never left a trail behind him to follow if he didn’t want to. Johnny accepted the nickname with pride. From then on, whenever a social worker said, with a deep sigh, that Soap was back into their hands after another failed placement, he would grin and say, “Tha’s Captain Soap to ye.”.

Shortly after, Johnny decided Kyle needed to have a nickname too; he wanted them to sound like the package deal they were and the nicknames would further connect them. So Kyle decided on “Gaz”. He didn’t want anything elaborate or goofy like “Soap”. And Johnny doesn’t know it, but Gaz is what Kyle’s little brother had called him before the accident. And then, since Johnny was the one looking after Kyle and therefore the one of higher rank, they decided Kyle was to be Sergeant Gaz.

Maybe it’s silly and stupid, maybe they don’t outgrow it as soon as they ought, but it quickly became the best and most effective way they have ever found to cope. It becomes something like a mantra, a prayer: we are soldiers, we are brave, and we will handle whatever is thrown at us with strength and courage.

A few years later, Johnny meets Simon. Simon, the boy who walks so lightly that his footsteps can’t be heard even by Johnny who long ago trained his ears to hear footsteps. Simon, the boy who starts to show up on Johnny’s doorstep unannounced, pale, and quiet, simply looking for better company. Simon, who becomes “Ghost” when Johnny accidentally points this behavior out to him.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, Si. I happen to like the Ghost too. He’s a good listener, and ya know how I run ma mouth.”

In further attempts to comfort, Johnny decides Simon might also need the absurd bit of comfort that comes with pretending to be a soldier. Because if you can pretend you’re brave for long enough, maybe it will come true. So Soap decides Simon will be Lieutenant Ghost. (When Kyle asks why Simon has a higher rank than him, the answer is because Simon is older, has fought harder battles for longer, and because Johnny will need his skills to keep them all safe.)

Once Johnny and Kyle’s coping method has been brought to the attention of the group, they all insist on getting callsigns and ranks too. Johnny, as the captain and therefore the man in charge, comes up with both for their other two friends. Alex Keller, their next door neighbor, and Gary Sanderson, Alex’s school friend who lives a few minutes away by bicycle that immediately got adopted into the group, are both dubbed sergeants too. Johnny had secretly filed away nickname options for both boys because he was hoping for an opportunity like this. They come to the decision that Gary will be “Roach”, for the way he can be relied upon to be in the kitchen cooking or snacking and for the way he likes to sit on the tops of surfaces, and that Alex will be “Echo”, for the way he is always repeating Gary’s sentences for him because he speaks so softly that Alex, who has years of training, is usually the only one who hears him enough to decipher the words.

They take to using the nicknames pretty quickly, enjoying the bond it represents between them all. But the ranks are understood to be more of a joke until the anniversary of Kyle’s brother’s death comes around and he shuts himself up in his room. Johnny simply explains to their friends that “Sergeant Gaz is on leave for the time being,” and they easily understand that to mean Kyle is battling something and isn’t ready to share it with them. No more further explanation is needed, easy as that. So, from then on, whenever one of them is struggling with something, simple phrases like that alert the others without the pressure of having to explain if they don’t want to or aren’t sure how. It’s a code among them, a slow developing language that allows them to express themselves and their struggles to each other when they aren’t capable of using plain language.

And maybe others would think it juvenile, this coping method and way of communicating, but that doesn’t matter to them. Life has tossed them around in ways no one should have to be tossed around and these boys create a safe space for themselves in the ways they find work best for them. It just so happens that their biggest comfort comes in the shape of their military personas and one another.

[the-hype-on-tv]

i can't post in the community with this account but anyway listen

new theory:

all the mvs and songs in this era are somehow lore related, even if not fully

they reflect something about the lore

next semester is about a panic attack through college metaphors, it also reflects the anxiety clancy feels as a whole now, bringing him back to his memories

backslide is about fighting the urge of going back to difficult times and learning to let go, which is what clancy has been trying to do since he got out of dema

midwest indigo is about the struggle of tyler's hometown, which well, clancy also struggled back in dema and is trying to move on, a cold town with no livelihood

ritn is about insomnia, struggling to sleep and navigating your memories instead. I'm pretty sure clancy mentions dreams in his letters, i wouldn't doubt he also suffers from night terrors

vignette (my beloved) is about addiction and, well, you can get addicted to dema, believe it or not. the dark mv also reminds me of that one line from hype "i don't know which way I'm going but i can hear my way around" and the vulture screech

snap back is about, again, not falling into bad habits and staying strong when seeing anxiety coming back, and reflects how clancy needs to remain resilient so he can fight and save everyone. the way he talks to the mirror (himself with long hair while he himself has it shaved) reminds me of a theory i had that the boy from the lemonade stand on backslide is past tyler, perhaps even blurryface, and they're talking as he notices how much he's changed, and yet the feeling is back. makes me thing clancy might actually be nico

oldies is about growing old and AGAIN talks about past habits, but now it's about getting used to them as you grow older and stronger and starts focusing on the good side, hmm i guess it could fit in how clancy will start getting more mature and starting to realize he might not be able to destroy dema, but that doesn't mean he and everyone can't be happy ig? like escaping in small groups, one at a time

atrofd is about checking in on friends to see if they're doing alright, it also reflects how clancy felt left out in dema by the banditos, his friends

the only ones I can't fit are lavish and the craving, but tyler doesn't have blurryface paint in those mvs

[oh-no-its-bird]

Spinning around in a chair consumed with thoughts about the magical girl Izuna AU, specifically about what cool patron gods the others could use as sponsors if they got hit with the magical girl beam. + What would happen after the 'season 1' phase of the story

So, Susanoo, little brother of Amaterasu, hears that Kaguya has gotten free.

He decides that yk what? Time to fuck with the big sister. Kaguya got sealed away for reasons anyways, so why shouldn't he at least make jokes about putting her back where she came from?

Meanwhile Amaterasu is busy yelling at Kaguya for hours then making out with her for even longer as Izuna stares in horror. (Tobirama does not give a shit, he got both of his brothers back at this point and could not be happier. As far as he considers, he's retired. His contract with Kaguya is half broken right now anyways)

So now lets fully shift gears away from Tobirama and Izuna's seeming end of the adventure, and turn to Madara's POV

So Susanoo finds Madara, whos a) compatible with his power via being one of Amaterasu's children. And b) The reincarnation of one of the original guys who sealed Kaguya away.

Perfect match!!

idk how he convinces him to help exactly, maybe Susanoo spins a bit of a story, maybe he pokes at and reawakens the parts of his soul with a grudge against Kaguya, maybe he, like Kaguya, offers him a wish-- Im undecided.

Long story short though, magical girl Madara with Susanoo as his sponsor

Somehow Hashirama finds out, and not one to leave his best friend to his task alone, now gets to join him in the adventure as the powerless backup!! Im such a sucker for that trope.

Susanoo does spend an especially long time squinting at Hashirama before saying something about he has surprisingly strong ties to the earth. Strong enough that he might be able to actually handle a contract with some sort of nature kami -- but only if he can find one willing to offer him their power.

Shrine maiden Mito makes a come back to help back them both up with some cool priest magic. Her ancestor helped to seal Kaguya away with Hashirama and Madara's past incarnation, and theres little clues that can help piece together their past lives and powers littered around her family shrine.

The story dives a bit into Madara and Hashirama learning about their past life. Before, they were able to avoid the karma (good and bad) theyd earned in that life via being ignorant to it. But now that they not only know about their past lives but have now interacted with the gods again (thanks Susanoo, really) they're getting regularly harassed by spirits and minor gods for an array of reasons. Past crimes, bets they lost and deals they forgot or werent able to fuffil,

Thanks Susanoo, really. Really.

So anyways, Susanoo kind of forgot the original reason he contracted Madara (he just got distracted having too much fun watch him be harassed by spirits)

But one day Tobirama shows up in costume while Madara is struggling, figuring hed help.

(Its important to note that just like before, unless you see the magical girl transformation in real time with your own two eyes, they're all prevented from recognizing/remembering each others faces when in costume. )

Susanoo is like "OH FUCK RIGHT!!" and starts yelling at Madara to like fuffill his destiny and punch out this guys lights

Madara is like ???? he helped me tho ???? but Susanoo points at the big glowing "I only gave you this contract so you could fight Kaguya and if you pull out now Ill leave you alone without the powers to fight off all these spirits who keep trying to eat you" sign

And Madara is like fuck and just goes for it

Tobirama does not appreciate his help being returned like this.

Quick interlude about Tobirama's situation:

So, last time we saw him, Tobirama was risking a full transformation into a moon monster. So why is he seemingly ok using Kaguya's powers now?

The answer is that its because hes stopped giving out contracts on Kaguya's behalf. He can handle Kaguya's power, just in small amounts. Though it still does sometimes cause some discomfort. At his lowest point he was basically acting like a battery for all the power Kaguya couldnt hold bc of how she was sealed. There was way too much power there for any mortal to hold, its honestly a miracle he survied. But now Kaguya is fully free and Tobirama barley even uses her power. (Why would he? He got what he wanted from it, his brothers)

He still has the contract with her because keeping it in place is what keeps his brothers alive. He cant break that without killing his brothers too, but he doesnt mind. Kaguya isnt that bad-- Even tho having Kaguya around means Amaterasu (and thus Izuna) is around too.

Anyways, Tobirama at his strongest is stronger than Izuna (he did kind of win that final battle in releasing Kaguya), but also risks going insane and or exploding from the weight of Kaguya's power. Even if he recovers after, the more times he uses that kind of power, even once, the more he risks long term damage. He now purposefully only uses power in small amounts to avoid that risk. Take that as you will

Alright back to the story;

So. Tobirama and Madara are fighting now. Madara does not want to fight but Susanoo is pretty much blackmailing him at this point and also cheering on loudly from the inside of Madara's head.

Tobirama meanwhile is very down to kick the ass of the apparent jackass who decided to take a swing at him after he went well out of his way to help him out. Also at this point hes a lot more experienced than Madara when it comes to fighting other magical girls, so.

Yeah. Madara gets his ass beat. Not too bad, but like, enough.

He kind of thinks he deserved it too, hes really embarrassed about it. He has MANNERS. Hed never DO this to someone who just fucking SAVED him. And they're the first other actual fr magical girl hes ever met !!!

Madara has his head in his hands in fucking agony rn, Susanoo why would you DO THIS TO HIM???

Tobirama stomps off to go tell Izuna about a seemingly weirdly prone to violence magical girl in town (Izuna, when told that Madara punched Tobirama in the face out of nowhere, quietly mumbles *damn I wish that were me.* Then gets his ponytail yanked on angrily)

(Amaterasu and Kaguya are actually mildly concerned, if only bc another magical girl = another kami physically present in town)

Madara slinks home to tell Hashirama the bad news about possibly having just made an enemy out of whatever community of magical girls apparently exists in town (and its to note that neither of them actually realized they were AROUND)

And then Susanoo drops the "oh yeah that guy was contracted by Kaguya btw so like youre going to either have to kill him or go through him and seal his deity if u wanna fulfill our deal ;)"

Madara: *agonized noises*

Well! At least the moon rabbit contractor isnt someone Madara and Hashirama actually know! Haha thatd suck. That would really, really suck.

So, with Madara's karma pulling in all sorts of spirits, minor gods and monsters to town, we return back to that 'villain/monster of the week' schedule

Meanwhile Izuna and Tobirama are getting pissed at whatever the fuck is attracting all these spookies into town. They thought they were going to get to be retired!!! What the fuck is this!!!!!! Somehow they're able to figure out all these monsters are being attracted by the pull of the new magical girl in town, who keep trying to start shit with Tobirama for seemingly no reason.

In one of those fun 'oh no my friend is in trouble and its all on me to save him!!!' moments, Hashirama manages to find and convince some earth kami to contract with him and join Madara in his fight. He cant just let Madara fight alone! And it may mean inviting the bad karma of his past life to haunt him, but so what? Hed do anything to help out his friend!

(and now there are TWO magnets for spirits gods and monsters to attract them into town, oops)

SO THEN !! With another fun funky turn in the story we enter an arc thats basically the most painful series of miscommunications and secret identities ever. Where Madara, Hashirama and Mito team up to fight against Tobirama and Izuna.

Only none of them realize who the fuck the other is.

Oh ?? Whats that ???? You thought I forgot about Touka and Hikaku?????? WRONG

While Madara and Hashirama fight with Izuna and Tobirama, shrine maiden Mito finds herself faced with two seemingly normal people, just like her. Only not exactly.

Hikaku is still armed with that kendo sword blessed by Amaterasu from the last final battle between Izuna and Tobirama, and now hes had plenty of time to learn how to use it. Sun sword time !!!

Meanwhile Touka has been practicing balancing more of Kaguya's power via a contract through Tobirama. With time, effort, and Tobirama's help, shes able to do some like cool partial transformation into a moon-monster or smthn. Maybe she gets a cool glowy arm?? I really dont know but something like that

I'm actually really into how they continue to contrast eachother. Like, Hikaku's sword contains the purifying light of Amaterasu's sun, which is what's used to chase out Kaguya's power. And Touka is filled with that same barley managed corruptive power of Kaguya's. It's neat! It'd also make sense from a tactical standpoint to pair them up together to fight. If the power gets to be too much for Touka and she starts to loose herself, Hikaku can give her a whack and hopefully help bring her back to reality.

Anyways, while the magical girls cant recognize eachother or be recognized, and Mito might have some fun seal to use to hide her own identity in a similar way, Hikaku and Touka dont!

Maybe they go into the fight without disguising themselves as like an accidental oversight on their part (too used to the protections Tobirama and Izuna have to consider themselves) or maybe they use basic masks, I dunno

Either way, trying to disguise themselves or no, I dont think Madara and Hashirama will fail to recognize their cousins.

Queue another "oh god I know their secret identity but they dont know mine and its !! someone !!! I know !!!!!!!" (can you tell I like this kind of agony because I do)

Well. At least the magical girls arent people they know !!! hahahahahahha. Yeah.

Back to Tobirama and Izuna's POV;

So, you might have realized it by now. But Tobirama's contract with Kaguya is what keeps his brothers alive. In other words, if Kaguya is sealed again, they will instantly die!

Yeah !!! So theres that !!!!

Even if Tobirama and Izuna werent friends, which they kind of are now (and maybe they should also kiss that would be neat) Even if Amaterasu wasnt really pissed and constantly yelling about the gall of some upstart nobodies coming into HER town and putting HER girlfriend back into the moon. Even if Izuna hadn't been interacting a bit more with the revived senju brothers--

Well, Izuna would still be helping Tobirama here. Hes not going to just let Itama and Kwarama die.

So yeah, safe to say that these guys are motivated and out for blood.

Good news Susanoo, you no longer have to worry about goading Madara into attacking first!! Izuna and Tobirama are out for his fucking head!!!

Anyways; No matter how it ends I dont think Susanoo especially actually cares about sealing Kaguya away fr. He really just came to fuck with Amaterasu, and then stayed to watch Madara flail as hes harassed by his past lifes karma.

because I dont want to see Kawarama and Itama fucking dead, Im gonna say Izuna and Tobirama will probably win this one around. Susanoo grumbles about loosing but then Amaterasu spots him and starts screaming directly into his ear

There is however a very fun ending out there where Madara and Hashirama win; In the process managing to make Tobirama go fully insane in his attempt to fight them with too much of Kaguya's power; killing both Itama and Kawarama; Putting Izuna in a coma; Leaving Touka now struggling with the moons power stuck in her without Tobirama to help regulate it; And leaving Hikaku with an arm now unable to ever hold his sword properly again.

Fun times!!

Season 3 after the bad ending is actually Touka and Hikaku picking up the pieces and trying to find a way to fix it all as Madara and Hashirama struggle to comprehend what they've unknowingly done to their own families.

Idk, I'll think about it later