#so I’m hoping that his quest writes him well

[otaku553]

Haha

[daydreamerdrew]

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #243

[indecisivemuch]

Lovesick & Lovelorn

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You thought that Luke Castellan, your best friend, did not reciprocate your feelings for him. To cope, you wrote letters addressed to him and kept them in a box. What happens when one of your sisters finds it? Inspired by 'To All the Boys I've Loved Before' (fluff, best friends to lovers; you thought it was unreciprocated feelings, happy ending).

Note: Ahh, I'm so happy the show got renewed for season 2.

Word count: 3.3k

You were deeply convinced your fate was tied to one with eternal lovelorn. 

Three years ago, you arrived at Camp Half-Blood and settled into the Hermes cabin before you were claimed by your Godly parent. It was there that you met Luke Castellan - one of your soon-to-be best friends. Though, you knew you were doomed from your first glance into his eyes. Then came his friendly smile and an offer of a handshake, where his hand engulfed yours.

At first, you thought that silly little crush would dissipate. But over time, as you became close friends with the Hermes cabin counselor, you were almost convinced he was faultless. You seemed to adore every little thing about him. Along with the fondness that grew in your heart was also self-pity. At one point, even looking at him hurt because you knew he did not return your feelings.

Hence, the letters.

In between your memories of Luke were letters you wrote throughout those years just to cope with the unreciprocated feeling. It was painful, but what else could you do? You truly believed confessing would put your friendship at risk. Neither did you feel like dealing with the heartache of a rejection. So you never uttered any of your feelings to him, continuing to imprint it on lined papers instead.

You scowled as the pen you were using ran out of ink, leaving the latest edition of unspoken words unfinished. Wordlessly, you fold the incomplete letter into an envelope and shove it into the turquoise box you bought while returning from a quest once. You neatly put the box under your bed.

“Y/N, it’s time to head out,” one of your sisters repeated. Two minutes ago, people were starting to leave, so those on cleaning duties could clean up your cabin. Since you were mid-writing, you hastily asked for a few more seconds. Now, you were the only one left besides two of your sisters.

“Yes, sorry,” you quickly muttered, exiting the cabin and almost immediately bumped into Luke. “Hey, what are you doing here?” you asked.

“I’m here for you. I thought we should hang out,” Luke answered ever so casually. Yet, your heart swelled at the thought that he was there for you. Before you could reply, you two were interrupted by another camper, who told you that one of your other best friends needed you and that it was an emergency.

“I’m so sorry, we’re gonna have to take a rain check on that hangout,” you informed Luke. You slowly started walking backward and away from him. “I’ll see you later, though?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Come find me whenever you’re done, yeah?” Luke requested, hoping to spend time with you later. His soft look made you pause mid-step, almost as if your foot had been cemented to the stones beneath. You nodded absentmindedly before snapping out of that state to comfort your friend.

After two hours of listening to your friend and comforting them, you finally left their cabin to search for Luke, who previously told you to find him after. However, around half an hour later, you slowly gave up at the thought of doing so, feeling almost defeated.

As you turned to head back to your cabin, you spotted the Hermes counselor exiting his. You called out his name, watching his back stiffen before he turned to you. You ignored the odd behavior and recalled, “I’m free now if you’re down to hang out.”

“I’m so sorry, but I’m really busy right now.”

“Uhm, well, I guess I’ll just meet you at our spot whenever you’re done then?” you suggested. You and Luke fell into a routine of star-gazing every night.

Laying under the dark sky that painted your whole horizon often made you feel small. But something about that was so calming, especially considering most of the time, you were suffocated by the weight and duties of being a Demigod. You wondered if it was the moment or if it was Luke’ presence that aided your momentary peace.

“I really, really can’t tonight, I have a lot of things to do.”

“Oh… that’s okay. I’ll see you around?” you replied, watching as Luke fidgeted and gulped while attempting to look normal. It was futile, really, because being best friends meant you could sense when the slightest thing was even off. He nodded, and you retreated to your cabin with thoughts swirling in your head.

Then came the next few torturous and confusing days. For the last two years, Luke would always approach you - almost daily, and vice versa. Being best friends with Luke has been wonderful. Every day together felt like a blessing.

Now, it seemed almost like he was avoiding you. He would find a new excuse whenever you approached. He wouldn’t even look in your direction. Yesterday, you made eye contact with him, and he turned away abruptly, facing his back towards you.

You had enough after day three. You went to your cabin after dinner and reached under your bed with one hand. You did not want to, but this would perhaps be your first-ever letter of anguish about Luke Castellan.

The box…where is the box?

You peered under your bed, mouth hanging open when your eyes could not spot it either. You looked up and around, hoping maybe you had misplaced it somewhere, even though part of you knew you had put it under your bed. You have always done so.

“Hey, have you seen a turquoise box?” you asked your sister as she walked by.

“Oh, the rectangle one, about this big?” your sister reconfirmed, using her hand to show you the size she indicated.

“Yes, that one.”

“Oh, I gave it to Luke.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I was cleaning the cabin three days ago, accidentally knocked it over and saw letters addressed to him. He was right by the door, so I thought maybe I should just deliver them to him.”

Blood drained from your face, and your heart plummeted. Anything else your sister seemed to be talking about started sounding like murmurs, and you could not focus on a word she was saying. Your worst nightmare seemed to have arrived. Somehow, your friendship with him had ended without you knowing. No wonder he has been avoiding you these past few days. He has read them all.

“I need to go,” you quickly muttered, storming out of your cabin. You could feel your body slightly shaking from the panic. No amount of Demigod training had prepared you for moments like these. Then you saw Luke walking over you…with the box in his hands. You took a deep breath and practically forced your voice box to work.

“Listen, Luke—”

“I didn’t think you’d buy birthday gifts that early, Y/N,” he interrupted.

“What?” you questioned and observed the sweet smile gracing his Adonis-like face.

“This?” he gestured to the box. “Your sister gave it to me and said it was from you. Though I thought I should give it back ‘cause it’s not my birthday yet, you might have wanted to give it to me yourself.”

“Oh…” it was the only thing you could utter as it dawned on you what he had perceived the situation as. “Wait, so you haven’t opened it?” you clarified.

“Nope.”

“...So we’re ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” your mouth hung slightly agape at his words. As you scrunch your eyebrows, you could see how his fingers fidget somewhat, almost as if he could tell you would bring his odd behavior up.

“You’ve been acting really odd the last few days, Luke. It had me worried. I thought I did something wrong. It seems like you were avoiding me.”

“I was just really busy with counselor duties,” he dismissed it. However, something about it made you a bit hesitant to believe his words. You did it anyway, nevertheless. You blamed it on your stupid heart.

“Yeah, but—” you stopped, not wanting to stir anything. “Ok then, I’m going to put this away, but I’ll see you later, yeah? Maybe we can finally not rain check again?” You hated how hopeful you sounded. You’re glad that the sun had set a few minutes ago, blessing you with enough degree of darkness to hide your facial expressions from being as evident as they would be in daylight.

“Of course, I’ll see you later, Y/N,” despite the dark and only dim lights from nearby, you noticed there was something different about him. Luke was wearing a nervous smile, almost sheepish like a schoolboy. There was a glimmer of amazement in his eyes like he was in disbelief. Though it was definitely overpowered by a glaring degree of warmth. He was looking at you like all those writers have written down in the books you have read before - something along the lines of adoration and love.

You shook those thoughts away again, refusing to somehow fool yourself into believing he could reciprocate those feelings.

“Yeah, see you,” you muttered, hand gripping tightly on the box as you took it from his hold. As soon as you reached your cabin, you opened the box to peer inside. You immediately sighed in relief upon seeing the copious amount of letters with your handwriting on them, all with Luke’s name on the front.

However, your eyes landed on one unfamiliar one. It had your name on it, written in a familiar wonky handwriting that you have always found endearing.

You sat on your bed, taking the letter out delicately, almost in disbelief. Then, dread overtook any other emotion. Was this Luke’s way of letting you down easy? By pretending to not have read any of your letters and rejecting you through the form that you express your love to him? — you had to physically shake your head at that thought.

You took the letter out of its envelope and started reading: 

‘Dear Y/N,

This is probably the 40th time I tried writing this letter. It feels impossible to try and convey everything onto one piece of paper.

You deserve someone to at least view you as their muse rather than always being the writer. 

Hence why, for the past few days, I had to physically drag myself away from you every time you tried approaching me because I knew if I didn’t, I would just end up spilling my feelings out right then. I knew if I even looked at you, I would have just abandoned this letter idea and run to you. You should have seen me yesterday. When we made eye contact, I had to turn away from you because having the knowledge of you liking me back was enough to knock all the air out of my lungs. I was a flustered mess from just that eye contact.

I doubt my words could rival what you have written about me. You once wrote how it hurts to love someone this much and to always be the poet but never the poem. Well, I’d like to thank you for making me your poems. However, now it is your turn. Allow me to be your poet.

You occupy my mind like it’s your castle. If I had to name everything I love about you, this letter would never end. But for starters, here are some of the first times:

The first time Chiron introduced you to the Hermes cabin, I could not take my eyes off you. Chris had to nudge me away. Just from that alone, a part of me knew I was in trouble. I think I came to the conclusion that I did not want to hold anybody else’s hand after just shaking yours.

2.5 years back during a campfire in June, even when the fire had died and the air grew cold, our voices still filled the air. Conversations just flow when I am with you. I remember never wanting that moment to end. Then you started talking about constellations and told me about the ones above us. Right there and then was the first time I had the urge to kiss you, and to show you that I was just as obsessed with you as you were with stars.

The first time I realized I was in love with you was while coming back from a quest 2 years ago. I remember feeling so numb coming back. The world almost seemed monotone, and I wondered for a second, what if I had made one wrong move? Just as I returned to camp, you bolted and hugged me. Somehow, it felt like I had just taken my first bit of fresh air after drowning for so long. I vividly recall shutting my eyes as I hugged you back because I felt like I was finally home. I remember never wanting to be away or out of your hold as others approached and rushed to get me into the infirmary for checkups.

It was only when I was lying on the infirmary bed that it hit me like a train that lost control. A large proportion of why I fought so hard was to come back to you. You’re my best friend, Y/N, and my place of solace and peace. Then came the realization that I was in love with you. I remember everybody else’s voice drowning out as I focused on that thought. It was strangely calming, as if my heart had known all along but was waiting for my head to catch up. Then I remember just smiling as I looked at the ceiling, unafraid of the new feeling.

Last year, the day we went on a quest together lapsed with Valentine’s Day. Every moment felt extra sweet. Us sitting on the train, staring outside the window together like a couple going on a trip. My mind savoured the small things like you falling asleep on my shoulder with my coat around you and us holding hands as we walked through the crowd to not get lost among couples - which I like to imagine that others had thought we were one as well. It was the first time I allowed myself to pretend this is how it would feel like if you were mine and how our lives together would be if we were not Demigods.

I thought for sure you would have realized something by the way I was staring and acting around you that I was irrevocably in love with you. After reading your letters, I realized that you did see it. But you refused to believe that I could ever be in love with you. Well, I hope my letters will reverse all your doubts, because Y/N, it is so easy to fall in love with you. 

In fact, the world I built up in my head during last year’s quest had consumed my thoughts enough to make me frown at the idea of returning to camp, where it would not just be the two of us anymore. Loving you has never been something I was afraid of. Loving you has been an honour every single day, even if you never knew of it. 

It’s also somewhat funny that I was heavily lovesick while you were lovelorn. But I promise, Y/N, that from this second on, I intend to make you know that you are loved and that I am so deeply in love with you.

Again, I never intended for you to wait for three days, but I ended up throwing away every letter I started because I felt like none had suffice. I didn’t want to mess it up and give you something less than you deserved. I wanted to do something nice for you. I promise I’ll make it up for those three days if you allow me to. But one chance is all I need.

If you are willing to give me that chance, you know where to find me.

Sincerely,

Luke Castellan’

Upon reading his last words, you immediately left your cabin with the letter in hand. You jogged to the spot where the two of you would always meet to stargaze together. Almost instantly, you saw his tall figure under the moonlight. As if he could sense your presence, the Hermes boy turned around and gave you a sweet smile.

“You meant it?” you asked as you raised the letter up, slowly approaching him.

“Every single word, including all the unspoken ones I intend on telling you from now on,” the way he said it felt like he was swearing it on his own heart. “In fact, I would have written more down, but I knew I was keeping you waiting for too long,” he explained as you stopped right before him.

Something about this moment felt cathartic. Three years of dancing around unspoken words and yearning led to this moment. Luke grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over your knuckle. You peered up at him, and it was then that you finally accepted what his looks meant: he was in love with you, and there was no doubt about that. There was no more denial on your end that Luke Castellan was enamored with you.

“Will you let me be your poet, Y/N?” he breathlessly referenced the words you and him had both previously written like he had been waiting for this for a lifetime.

“Of course,” you answered almost without hesitation, watching his eyes soften even more, if possible.

“Is it ok if I ask you another question?” he asked again, his other hand caressing your cheek.

“Yeah?” Your face flushed as you saw his brown eyes dart to your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

This time, you didn’t say anything. You’ve written down way too many words in the past three years. You decided actions would speak louder in this case. So you pulled Luke down by his camp necklace, hands gripping the beads on it as you tiptoed up to reach his lips. 

Luke physically melted as he brought one hand to your waist to hold you up as he leaned down from the height difference. Everything Luke had imagined before could not match the kiss he was finally sharing with you - the kiss that seemed to seal his lips into a spell that would forever leave them unable to belong to anyone else. It felt like heaven and hell combined because he knew that this was going to ruin him forever, and every second he spent with his eyes shut would be one where he had this feeling and moment sown behind his eyelids. 

You had the same line of thoughts. The wait was long, but you felt like it was worth it. Under the stars, you may feel small. But standing there next to Luke, you finally realize it doesn’t matter. Because he was holding you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You were his sun, moon, and everything in between - no constellations could ever measure to you.

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

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[waitingonher]

NIGHTS LIKE THESE — [hoo boys drabbles]

summary: how they react to your bad dreams.

author's note: i wrote leo's + jason's part imagining that the cabins/barracks have individual rooms sooo...also ik this trope is so ran through in the pjo fandom but it's just toooo good i couldn't help myself

percy jackson

percy has always been the type of person to pick up the phone no matter the time. even as he’s on a lone movie marathon and the scene reaches its long-anticipated climax, he’s reaching for his buzzing phone that’s lost beneath the sheets. having found it after the third ring, percy checks the time and the caller id. why are you calling him so late? he answers, “hi babe. i thought you had to wake up early this morning, why are you awake?” 

“hi percy,” your voice was shaky and congested, as if you’d been crying. percy immediately sits up, alarmed at the state of your voice, “did i wake you up?” 

“no, no, i was up watching movies. what’s wrong? is everything okay?” he’s seated at the edge of his bed now, anxiously awaiting your response. 

you force him to sit in silence as you think of an excuse, “yeah, um…i’m okay. i just wanted to hear your voice. but i’ll see you on thursday, okay? goodni-” 

“(y/n), what’s going on?” percy runs a hand through his hair as he heads out of his room to his kitchen. he rips off a napkin from the roll and snatches a pen from the drawer. on the napkin, he writes a brief message to sally, saying that he’d be over at your place and not to worry. 

“nothing. i’m fine, percy,” you mutter. but your boyfriend knows you too well. the way your voice quivers makes it sound as though you were trying to convince yourself that everything was okay, and you were failing miserably. 

percy places his phone between his ear and shoulder as he ties his shoes, “don’t leave me in the dark, (y/n).” 

“don’t worry about me. i’m fine it was just-” 

“babe, i’m coming over, okay?” and with that, percy hangs up. 

he’s walked this path over a hundred times, usually for dropping you off after dates or simply for hanging out with you. but this time, all percy can think about is how you sounded over the phone and that he needs to seriously pick up the pace. 

upon arrival, percy climbs up the fire escape ladder as quickly and quietly as possible. it’s only now that he’s grateful for his experience from all of those laborious quests. reaching your floor, he knocks delicately on the glass. 

“percy, what are you doing here?” you ask after he closes your window, “i’m sorry, you really didn’t need to come all this way. it’s like three in the morning and you-” 

your boyfriend silences you with a gentle kiss, “i’m okay. it’s you i’m worried about. what’s wrong?” 

“it was just a dream.” 

“just a dream?”

“yes, it was just a stupid dream.” 

percy grabs your shoulders, forcing you to look at him, “(y/n), you’re one of the strongest people i know. so if you were crying over it, then it really must be something.” 

you slump on your bed, and percy joins beside you. it's no use hiding it from percy, so with a sigh, you confess, “well, you’re here now. but it just felt so real,” your eyes begin to prick with tears again, “you were laying on the floor…and there was just so much blood, and i tried to stop it—i really did try—but it just kept coming and there was nothing else i could do.” 

honestly, percy didn’t know what to say. but he did know that if your dream was anything like the ones he had about you, they were emotionally and physically crushing. so, he decides that if he can’t say anything, he’d rather show you. percy gently guides your body, until the both of you are laying down. with a strong arm wrapped around your figure and the other rubbing slow circles on your back, he can only hope you understand the message he’s trying to convey. 

“i’m here, (y/n). everything’s going to be okay,” percy continues to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. slowly but surely, your crying mellows into only soft sniffles. 

as you lay on his chest, you can feel the rise and fall of his breathing body. it wasn’t at all like that dream of yours; his cold body eerily still on the floor. not at all like that. you allow yourself to slowly drift off with the rise and fall of his chest, strangely as if it were its own lullaby, “thank you, percy,” you manage to whisper. 

“i love you, (y/n). i’m not leaving you, ever. i promise,” percy whispers back. 

leo valdez

leo’s used to waking up several times in the middle of the night. considering the demigod dreams, he hasn’t remembered the last time he’s gotten a full night's rest, which is why he’s not surprised to be awake at the crisp hour of two a.m. he can’t even remember the dream this time, but leo bets it was another dream foreseeing his imminent death or the end of the world. 

as he stares at the pipes and wires running along the ceiling of bunker 9, a familiar ringtone sounds from his phone. leo quickly wipes the sleep from his eyes and picks up the phone from his nightstand, “(y/n)? are you okay? it’s so late.” 

there’s a silence, followed up by quiet sniffles. were you crying? “hi leo, i’m sorry i probably woke you up didn’t i? go back to sleep, i was-” 

“no i was already awake, what’s wrong?” the moment your boyfriend noticed your shaky voice, his attitude completely changed. suddenly awake and full of energy, he tears off his blanket and reaches for his hoodie and shoes.

considering the fact that you never really call so late alarms him. you calling either meant that you had a nightmare or you were hurt…and leo prayed it was the dream. 

“i’m sorry…” you take a deep breath, “i just had a bad dream, like one of those dreams, you know?” leo knows all too well what you’re talking about, and if it’s anything close to the dreams he has, he can only imagine what you’re feeling, “but i swear i’m okay now. i’ll see you later?” 

but leo’s already out the door as you finish your explanation, “i’m coming over, stay there.” 

“wait leo-” 

he hung up. 

the trek through the forest was usually something one would avoid, especially at this hour, but leo couldn't give less of a shit as he thinks about you crying in your room. a few minutes later after practically sprinting to your cabin, he arrives. locating the window to your room was easy, he’d done this several times before for your sleepovers. leo knocks as quietly as he can on the glass, hoping he doesn’t disturb any of your other siblings. 

surprised, you pull your curtain aside and are face to face with none other than your boyfriend. he looks sweaty and out of breath. leo ran all this way? pushing your question to the side, you rush to open the window and let him in. 

for the first time, leo really gets a good look at you. your eyes are red and puffy; you look at him with such desperation and he can’t help but pull you into a rib-cracking hug. 

“you actually came.” 

“what? of course i did, (y/n),” he takes your face into his hands, rubbing soft circles on each cheek. suddenly, tears begin to flow freely down your face. was it something he said? was he not supposed to come? 

you pick up on his confusion, “i’m sorry, i’m just…glad you’re alive,” leo sits you on your bed, and continues to wipe away the tears, his concern growing with each passing second. your boyfriend urges you to go on, “it’s just the same thing every night. i’m at your grave on the hill, and i’m all alone and it’s raining and i just-” 

“(y/n), breathe,” leo pulls you into his chest once more. he holds you so impossibly tight, ensuring that you know he’s there and he doesn’t plan to ever leave. his sacrifice during the final battle against gaia will forever be amongst one of leo’s biggest regrets. not because he had saved the world, but because of how hard it impacted you. without a doubt, you could easily say that those months where leo was gone were the hardest times of your life. and not a day goes by where leo thinks he can ever forgive himself for it, “i’m here. i’m alive.” 

you nod, your sobs turning into quiet hiccups. leo moves the two of you guys to be laying down, and as final reassurance, he gently guides your hand under his hoodie, allowing you to feel his steady heartbeat. your boyfriend’s skin is warm to the touch and you count his heartbeat…one…two…three. and that was proof enough, “you’re alive.” 

“i am,” leo soothes. he places a gentle kiss atop your head and pulls the covers over your bodies. his arms wrap tightly around your figure, holding you close, “sleep, (y/n). i’ll be here in the morning.”

jason grace

it’s late nights like these that jason has slowly come to appreciate. these scarce nights where he’s completed his praetor duties for the night and he allows himself to indulge in some self-care, which usually consists of a cup of hot herbal tea and a good book. 

usually, jason prefers historical books, oftentimes concerning roman myths or the occasional diary of some war general. what can he say? he likes to be all-knowing when it comes to these things. but this time, as he’s curled up in his bed, he reaches for the book that you had recommended to him: a classic romance novel. jason laughs to himself as he recalls you teasing him about his taste in literature. if he remembers correctly, you called him a “history-loving freak?” 

just as jason’s about to open the book, an unexpected ringing sounds from his phone. he huffs, momentarily disapointed. that is, until he sees who’s calling, “(y/n)? hi, are you okay?” 

“oh, hi,” jason noticed the way your voice sounded off, like you’d been crying, “i didn’t think you’d actually answer.” 

confused, he puts the book back on his nightstand, “of course i would, my love. what’s going on? you sound like you’ve been crying.” 

“no, everything’s okay i just…” you pause, “had a bad dream, so i wanted to listen to your voicemail.”

jason’s heart squeezes at the thought of you going so far as to listen to his own ten second voicemail as a method of comfort. but the feeling goes away just as quickly as it came upon hearing you had a nightmare, “oh i’m sorry, my love. do you want me to come over?” 

“no,” you reply, “it’s okay. i’m better now that i’ve heard your voice. you can go back to bed, jason.” 

despite you declining his offer, jason’s already up and putting his shoes on, “i’ll be there in a few, okay? i love you,” and he hangs up. 

within a handful of minutes, jason reaches your cohort’s barracks. the square windows look impossibly similar, but it’s all thanks to practice that he recognizes yours. even as praetor, he still has to enforce the rules and sneak around. with a quiet knock on your window, he waits in the dark for you. 

“you’re here. you’re alive, jason,” is all you can muster up as your boyfriend stands tall inside your room. his expression is clearly written with worry as he closes the gap between you with a hug. as hard as you tried to fight it, the tears came again in a fresh wave. 

“yeah, i’m here, (y/n). i’m not leaving,” he replies, concern laced in his words. jason notices your tears and gently wipes them away, “c’mere, tell me about your dream,” he beckons, guiding you towards the bed. with a gentle plop, he settles down and opens his arms, inviting you to join him.

settling against jason’s chest, you take a shaky breath as he places kisses on your temple, “i was at your funeral, and you looked so peaceful, like you were sleeping. i just can’t stop thinking about how you looked asleep. and then they expected me to, you know, give a speech in front of the entire camp about you, and i just…i can’t imagine a world without you, so please, you can’t leave me like that.” 

“woah, woah, (y/n) i’m okay, breathe,” jason hushes you, rubbing soft circles on your arm. to be frank, he’s pretty shocked about what you had just said. he can’t get over how shaken up you are by this. but jason can’t even blame you, because if it were him who had the dream, he bets he would also be like this, “i’m here and i have no plan of ever leaving, okay? i’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life,” he jokes, hoping to get at least a smile from you. 

jason’s joke succeeds as he feels your body shake with a quiet giggle, “good. i wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

your boyfriend checks your face once more, ensuring that you’ve stopped crying. seeing that you have, he places delicate kisses on each cheek, “hey, how about we go to sleep now? i’ll read you that book,” jason motions to the book on your nightstand, which happens to be the same one you recommended him. 

you nod tiredly, “only if you do different voices for each character.” 

“of course, only for you,” jason quips. 

after adjusting your bodies, jason reaches for the book and opens it to chapter one. but before he begins, he pulls the covers completely over your body and places a chaste kiss on your forehead, “i love you so much, (y/n). and i hope you know that i’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

[kamaluhkhan]

COMPLICATED

LUST — part iv of we'll write sins like tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 8.9k summary: the lives of demigods are never simple. why would your relationship with luke be any different? or: four moments of tension + one moment of release. featuring a trip to montauk with percy, grover, and annabeth warnings: a decent amount of reader backstory (mention of dad having cancer); multiple POVs (percy, grover, annabeth, luke, reader - obv nothing suggestive/smutty until luke and reader POV); luke + reader get into arguments and are v stressed so their relationship is a bit strained; reader has tattoos; reader is on birth control; rough smut (protected + unprotected p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, slight breeding kink, etc...); also slight dark + possessive luke! (18 + MDNI); major angst — we all know how this story ends ;( author's note: this was meant to be a blurb but...here we are! this is basically another chapter of my spill ur guts series lol. i've been gone for much longer than i planned to, but hope u enjoy possibly the angstiest, smuttiest thing i've written so far ♡

♪ "complicated" by avril lavigne

i. 

in the span of a few minutes, percy went from pure joy — being greeted with cheers from all the campers was great, sure, but truthfully the hug from annabeth alone sent him to elysium — to feeling like his heart dropped all the way to tartarus.

which is definitely not a place percy ever wants to visit again. he was happy to be back at camp with his friends, knowing that his quest was completed, his mom was safe in new york, and a war between the gods was prevented.

it should be over….but there’s something in the back of percy’s mind that’s telling him it isn’t. seeing a certain someone in the crowd earlier didn’t do anything to ease that feeling.

"can someone explain to me why clarisse is still here?" 

you raise an eyebrow at luke, and he shrugs in response.  it seems neither of you had decided who should break the news, and neither of you seem particularly excited to do so, even after dragging percy, along with annabeth and grover, into the empty hermes cabin for some privacy.

after another beat of silence, you take the lead.

“look, kid, i know you and clarisse got off to a rocky start —”

“she tried to drown me, and then basically kill me during capture the flag,” percy points out. he hears an ocean roaring at the memory, but that could have also been from his duel with clarisse’s dad, the god of war, more recently.

a duel that percy had won, for the record. luke trained him well.

“and i’m not defending that,” you clarify. “i’m just saying that we’ve known clarisse for much longer. she’s not perfect, maybe a bit aggressive sometimes — trust me, she and i have had some major disagreements, too — but i can’t see her doing something like this.”

“why would anyone at camp want to steal the bolt? to join kronos’ army against the gods?” annabeth wonders. to herself or to the group, percy isn’t sure, but he has a feeling that the wheels in her mind are turning.

“revenge, maybe?” grover suggests. 

almost instinctively, grover glances at you, and so does annabeth. percy wants to kick himself for doing the same. 

with you being the daughter of nemesis, he imagines that it's not the first time you’d been blamed for something just because of who you are. it’s a feeling percy knows all too well. and, for better or for worse, like percy, it seems like you’re not one to accept these things without a fight.

you straighten your shoulders, ready to snap back, but before you can, luke declares:

“it’s not her.”

he then knocks the toe of his shoe against your combat boot. you smile and return the gesture. the tension eases out of the room.

for a second, percy wonders if he’ll ever have someone like that: someone to defend like it’s second nature, to share that sort of secret language with, to smile at him like nothing else in the world matters. 

according to annabeth, the two of you weren’t technically dating — but percy is pretty sure that aphrodite is swooning over you. 

“see, grove? if camp half-blood’s golden boy can vouch for me, then i’m in the clear.” your tone is playful enough — no hard feelings — but the tips of grover’s ears still turn red. “i didn’t steal the bolt. sure, the gods and titans can tear each other apart for all i care — " 

annabeth stiffens at your bold statement, and grover starts to nervously chew on an empty diet coke can he had stashed in his pocket. luke watches you with the hint of a smile on his face, and percy —

well, percy can’t help but admire you even more. 

"— but it's everything else that i have an issue with.”

“everything else?”

you look at percy like the answer is obvious. 

“when have the gods ever fought their battles without us as collateral damage? doesn’t seem worth it to me, to betray my friends.” 

that itch in the back of percy’s brain gets harder to ignore.

“the oracle warned me, betrayed by a friend.” 

“prophecies don't always come true,” annabeth reminds him. “at least not in the way we expect them to.” 

“annie is right,” luke adds, nodding at his sister. “mine didn't. the oracle said i would die a hero.” 

you turn to luke then, your eyebrows furrowed. 

“what? you never told me that.” 

“it doesn’t matter,” luke insists. “my point is that i came back from my joke of a quest, alive and a definitely not a hero —”

“fuck what the oracle said.” you roll your eyes. “dead or alive, you are a hero, tiger.”

you move to place a hand on luke’s arm. to percy’s surprise, though, luke brushes you off.

“i’m not a hero. at least not the one my dad expects me to be.”

again, percy is taken aback by how luke snapped, at you of all people. you huff, and percy can tell that you’re a bit agitated now, too. 

“okay, but that doesn’t mean —”

“my point is.” luke turns to percy, effectively blocking your presence for the time being. “you completed your quest, fought a god, and stalled kronos’ plan. you’ve been through it — all three of you have — but now you’re back. let’s just enjoy the rest of our summer, yeah? whatever happened out there, whatever the oracle said, it’s in the past.”

percy wants to believe luke, he really does. one glance in your direction, and it seems like you do, too.

deep down, though, percy isn’t entirely convinced. there’s that dread in the pit of his stomach, that voice in the back of his head. something in him, warning that this isn’t quite over. the worst has yet to come.

he wonders if — or maybe just hopes — you feel the same.

—

ii.

if you of all people can’t get luke’s attention, grover is pretty sure that the world is ending.

“luke,” you try again, foregoing your usual nickname for him. your arms are crossed and you tap your foot against the floor. it makes grover slightly anxious, feeling your frustration threaten to boil over.

“i’m busy,” he grunts, and flips over another page, scribbling something on the other side. 

“grover wanted to talk to us about something.”

“i-it’s fine, we don’t have to —”

“no, it’s a good idea, grove,” you insist. you smile at grover then. he remembers that, despite the deadly glares you can deliver, like the one you were just giving luke, you have a gentle core. you just guard it behind sharp edges. 

“tell him that i’ll talk to him later.”

“or, you could tell him yourself,” you huff. grover waves awkwardly, even though luke doesn’t realize what’s happening. “he’s right next to me.”

luke looks up briefly, and then back down at the pages in front of him just as quick. he looks tired, exhausted even. 

“sorry, man. didn’t see you there. i gotta finish these reports.”

“no worries. i tend to be quiet on my hooves.”

in the moment of silence that follows, and with luke still not giving you the attention you’re asking for, you walk over to the desk where luke is working. what you see seems to make you even more annoyed than before.

“these reports are for september. why in the name of nemesis are you filling them out now?”

“i just want to be prepared.”

“prepared for what?”

luke hesitates. “just….the future.”

“oh!” you laugh, sharp and sarcastic. “i didn’t realize that the future required you to neglect your friends.”

“i’m trying to help my friends,” luke huffs. he taps his pen impatiently against the desk. “if you didn’t keep interrupting me —”

“oh my fucking gods — ”

grover watches the two of you argue. it had been easier to step in whenever something bubbled up between annabeth and percy, because they were just kids. but you and luke — you were adults. 

when grover met luke for the first time, he was already taking on way too much responsibility for a kid — keeping thalia and annabeth alive, protecting them from monsters, taking care of them. in a lot of ways, those responsibilities didn’t go away: as a senior counselor and resident older brother, a hero for the older campers to admire and the younger kids to aspire to be. camp half-blood’s golden boy, as you liked to call him. 

and, like you, luke is good at hiding. for him, its heavy burdens behind easy-going smiles. 

lately, though, those smiles seem to be strained, his shoulders slowly bending under the weight of it all. the other day, grover asked you if everything was okay with luke. you had looked back at him sadly, shrugged, and said you didn’t know.

that’s when grover decided that everyone just needs a break — an escape. he had been sensing that things weren’t quite right with the others, too. percy seems a little on edge, and so does annabeth.

then, of course, there was you and luke. finding out that the two of you had actually started dating was huge news for someone like grover who had painstakingly watched the two of you dance around your feelings for years. so, it was more than a little weird that you’d barely been speaking this past week. the rare occasion you did was tense at best, and explosive at worst. 

like now, when you pick up one of the reports luke was working on, and threaten to burn it. luke dares you to do so, even suggests, albeit sarcastically, that you use it as your next offering to the gods. 

“oh, a handwritten document from luke castellan himself? they would love that,” you snort. “admit it: you’re doing all of mr. d’s work just to suck up to some gods who don’t even give a shit about any of this. you’re practically olympus’ lapdog.”

luke, blushing a furious shade of red, gets up and yanks the paper from your hand.

“at least my parent is important enough to actually have a seat on olympus and an actual cabin for his kids to stay in.”

you look like you could just about throw luke into a fire, and vice versa. grover had never seen the two of you like this, but it made sense: each of you knowing just where, and how, to hurt the other.

and, he thinks it’s about time to step in before the damage is irreversible. so, grover starts slowly clapping. the clapping gets faster, and he manages to get through the first few lines of the consensus song before you stop him.

“alright, alright,” you sigh. you push past luke, steal his chair, and put your feet up on the desk. luke scowls at you, but you put your hands up in surrender and jut your chin out towards grover. “just listen to what grover has to say and then we’ll let you get back to your precious reports.”

grover tells luke his idea. luke actually agrees, and grover can’t help but feel a little bit of a victory. 

he’s a protector, after all. it’s his job to make sure you’re all alive and happy and thriving. and not burnt to a crisp over some petty argument.

—

iii. 

annabeth had missed home when she was away on their quest, but being back and seeing everyone being taught to worship the gods without question, to believe that the only things that matter are power and glory….well, after everything that happened, after percy, annabeth can’t just go back to doing the same. at least not entirely. 

all this to say, she was totally on board with grover’s idea: the five of you, renting a cabin in montauk to get away from camp for a bit.

unfortunately, the trip starts off less than ideally. you and luke bicker the entire way here — and not the playful jabs you usually throw at each other. 

annabeth remembers the first time she saw you together. it was during breakfast, their first morning at camp half-blood. annabeth had spent the night trying not to cry over thalia, and already missing luke even though he was only a few cabins away. she was still a kid, surrounded by strangers, told that she was safe now, but didn’t quite believe it yet. one look to luke at the hermes table, and annabeth could tell he felt the same way, too — not quite settled in this new place that was supposed to be home, and with these people who were supposed to be family.

she watched as the hermes table went to burn offerings to the gods. when they sat down again, luke looked even more unsettled than before.

but then, you leaned in and whispered something in luke’s ear, and he actually laughed, just a bit, which was a nice change of pace. luke was always the one making annabeth and thalia laugh when they were running from monsters, always the one trying to keep everything together with a smile or a joke.

as she devoured her breakfast, annabeth couldn’t help but keep glancing at the two of you. she heard warnings from her half-siblings, about your mother being the goddess of revenge, and you living up to that name. 

luke either didn't know, or didn't care about whatever reputation you had. sitting there, next to you, annabeth didn’t think she’d ever seen luke so, genuinely happy, so at ease.

all these years later, neither you nor luke seemed particularly happy. you’re obviously avoiding each other, and annabeth doesn’t understand why.

you and luke are a new puzzle that she can’t wait to solve. 

annabeth had finished constructing the most elaborate sandcastle in history, just for percy to accidentally splash it when he was trying to surf a wave; so she decides that playtime is over. it’s time to figure out what exactly is going on between you and luke.

luke is in the cabin doing gods know what. you're on the deck painting your nails, so annabeth decides to start gathering information from you, first. 

“hey." you finish painting your pinky a dark purple, and set the bottle down next to you. "having fun?”

annabeth nods once and sits next to you. she asks if you could paint her nails, and you pull out a bottle of silver polish you said you thought she might like. 

as you work, careful with each stroke of polish, annabeth surveys the tattoos on your skin. you’re wearing a bikini top, so there are some that she’s seeing for the first time. there's one of a knife on your sternum, and annabeth distinctly remembers seeing a similar one peeking from underneath the collar of luke’s shirt. she wonders when you got it, if you had to travel to a tattoo parlour in the city, how many other adventures you'd gone on without having to consult the oracle beforehand. 

maybe that’s a good place to start. 

“have you ever thought about leaving camp? like, long term?" 

"sometimes," you admit. "it would be nice to have some normal early-twenties experiences."

"would you go to school?"

you smile as you keep painting annabeth’s nails. “maybe. i might have seen legally blonde too many times, but i think about law school sometimes.” 

“what about luke?”

your smile fades at the question. “i...i don’t know." your once precise nail-painting falters, and you mumble a curse when a drop of silver lands on annabeth's skin. you swipe it away before continuing. "luke's one of those people i can't really see away from camp half-blood for too long; pretty sure it would burn down without him. there's a reason he feels responsible for everyone there...in a way i respect, obviously, but, it's not the same for me. nobody needs me."

"luke needs you."

you sigh, and annabeth wonders if you even realize how you shake your head slightly. she thinks you're about to disagree with her, but instead you ask: 

“what's this about, annie? are you thinking about your dad’s offer?”

and annabeth’s completely thrown off her line of inquiry. 

“how did you —”

“perce told me that you’ve been talking about staying with him for the year,” you explain. you gesture at annabeth to give you her other hand, and she complies. the silver polish on the hand you just finished glitters in the sun. 

“well, nothing’s confirmed.”

you look up at annabeth, one eyebrow raised. “it's okay, you know — if you just wanna….be a kid for a bit.”

annabeth is silent, prompting you to ask another question.

"what's holding you back?"

“well….at first, i thought it would be a definite no,” annabeth admits. “obviously, it didn’t work out last time. i don’t know if i want to risk it again — if i can trust him, you know? how do i know he actually cares —  that he’ll be there for me when i need him?”

“you don’t.” you pause for a second. “but i’m gonna tell you a story that i think might help.”

you're done painting her nails, so you put everything away. you sit cross-legged next to annabeth, looking out at the ocean.

“my dad never wanted me to go to camp. he wanted to raise me in the city, just like he’d grown up. he’d take me to rock concerts all the time. i was so young, he’d make me wear earmuffs and carry me on his shoulders so that i could still see the band.” you smile softly at the memory. “and then….my dad got sick, he couldn’t take care of me, and monsters started to show up, so he brought me to camp for safe keeping." 

"you've told me all this," annabeth remarks. 

you start fiddling with your camp necklace. annabeth isn't used to seeing you so unsure, so nervous; it throws her off even more. 

"what i haven't told you is that even when my dad got better, he….he didn’t give me a choice of where to stay.”

"oh," is all annabeth can say. 

“yeah, oh," you scoff, but there’s not really any malice behind it. you seem…sad. defeated, almost. your fingers move to play with the hem of your shorts, which causes the fresh nail polish to smudge. you don’t seem too concerned about that at the moment, though. "i told everyone that i chose to stay. the truth is that i stayed because my dad didn't want me anymore. he said that the universe gave him a second chance, so he wanted to live his life without having to worry about monster attacks or taking care of his teenage daughter."

annabeth wonders if luke knows the truth about this; though, considering how difficult it seems for you to admit, she doubts it. 

before, annabeth had a theory that you decided to stay at camp because of luke.

luke was away when you got the news that your dad was in remission. annabeth remembers how happy you were, how excited you were to be back in the city and living with your dad again. you started packing right away.

when luke came back from his failed quest, you had just gone into the city the day before, having promised to visit in the summer and stay in touch. someone – chris maybe, or beckendorf — must have called you, told you what happened, because you came back to camp right away, your bag still fully packed. you never left again. 

"that sucks."

“yeah.” you let out a hollow, breathy laugh. “and, i was angry at first. of course i was. but now, i don’t know. i think that maybe my dad does care about me. like, he still sends me mixtapes with old punk rock songs he thinks i’d like. he actually calls me on my birthday, and we have a 3 minute conversation about nothing important." 

"right…" annabeth furrows her brows. this conversation had definitely not gone as planned. "no offense, but what's —"

"i'm getting to the point," you tell her, bumping your shoulder against hers.  "i realized that sometimes people can only love us in a way that works for them — and it sucks. it really, really sucks. but then sometimes…. sometimes people do actually try. and, i don’t know, it seems like maybe your dad is willing to try.”

“so you think i should take him up on his offer.”

the sun starts to set. you get up, brush sand off your legs. 

“i think it's time for a swim. i also think that you’re smart enough to know what’s best for you, and who deserves a second chance. just know that whatever you decide — we’ll be there for you.”

you leave without another word, but with the return of your usual confident smile, off to the shore to take advantage of the last bits of daylight. 

"she's right, annabeth." luke appears a few seconds later, takes the spot next to annabeth you had just occupied.

annabeth hums.

"how much of that did you hear?" 

luke doesn't answer. he just stares at your form, disappearing in the distance and diving under the waves.

—

iv.

you clear your throat and luke turns around to see you freshly showered. you’re wearing a pair of shorts and one of the oversized band tees the two of you constantly exchange. you've lost track of whose is whose at this point.

luke resists the urge to shamelessly check out your legs, and turns his back towards you once again. that bikini top you were wearing earlier was bad enough. thankfully, the heat from the stove was enough to cover up his blushing cheeks at the sight of your exposed skin. 

“i thought we were ordering pizza,” you say, moving to peer over his shoulder, chin hovering just above. luke had the sense that you were avoiding physical contact, and as much as it drives him crazy, he knows that he’s the one who’d dug his own grave. pushing you away and whatnot. 

“didn’t know that you knew how to cook.”

“not much,” luke shrugs. he keeps stirring the vegetables — broccoli and carrots and baby corn. he’ll add the red peppers once the broccoli turns green so that they don’t become too soft. he’s pretty sure that’s how he remembers it going.

“i could have helped you.” you reach over and hand him the peppers right on time. you shift to lean your back against the counter next to the stove, arms crossed over your chest and eyes following luke. 

luke throws in the chicken he cooked earlier, and then the sauce he had also mixed. he waits a few seconds, lets the sound of everything sizzling fill the space between you. 

“it’s an easy recipe.” luke turns off the stove to punctuate his point. 

and it had to be. something quick he’d make with his mom after she had one of her episodes, before waking up and realizing that she had a son to feed. the sounds, the colors, the smells — it all, overwhelmingly, reminds him of a childhood he once had. one that was never as simple as the food he just made.

none of the bitterness in his throat is caused by his mom, of course. just his father who calls himself a god, and left them both alone to fend for themselves. 

you start getting out plates from the cupboards as you ask: “where are the kids?”

luke checks the pot on the stove to see if the rice is cooked. “told them to go rent something from the video store.” 

“they went alone?”

“they’ve literally been to hell and back,” he replies and sits down at the table. “i think they can handle a blockbuster.”

“i don’t care if they get attacked by monsters,” you state, setting down the last plate in front of him. “i know they can handle themselves. they just better choose a good movie.” 

luke doesn’t mean to snort, but he can’t help but remember all the arguments you’d gotten in with chris over your tastes in movies. 

 “don’t laugh, castellan. i’ve saved movie night on more than one occasion and i’ve never gotten so much as a thank you.” you roll your eyes, but luke notices the ghost of a smile.

it fades just as quickly as it appeared, and luke already misses the small moment of levity that’s passed. 

“what’s been going on with you, tiger?”

you hold his gaze, and luke knows that you’re hoping for a real answer, for the truth he can’t give you. 

“nothing,” he answers instinctively. 

“don’t give me that,” you sigh and turn away from him, returning to your position against the counter. 

“i said it’s nothing,” luke insists, a bit more assertively. “why can’t you just believe me?”

“because you’ve been distant, moody.” your tone is sharper now, too. “you’ve been avoiding me. you’ve barely been eating. the side of your bunk has been empty, which means you haven’t been sleeping, either. gods, i can’t even remember the last time you kissed me —”

“you’re really mad at me because we haven’t fucked?” 

it’s a low blow, and he delivers it as if he hadn’t missed seeing you underneath him. or on top, or beside. luke isn’t picky. 

“you’re impossible!” you groan, and cover your face with your hands. you take a deep breath  before returning to glare at luke. “do….do you not want to be together, anymore? because if that’s what’s happening, i’ll survive. we can go back to being friends.” you clench your jaw to make up for the tremble behind your question. always a tough face, even in the face of potential heartbreak.

of course, luke knows you’ll be fine without him. he’s the one who might have difficulty surviving when you part ways.

“that’s not —” luke sighs and runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “that’s not it.”

“then what is it?”

“noth—”

“i will send you to elysium if you tell me it’s nothing one more time, because i know it’s not!” you’re shouting now. “i might not know what it is, but i know you well enough to tell that something is bothering you. so i’m asking you, one more time, what is going on?”

the thing is, luke can’t tell you — about what he’s done, about who he’s aligned himself with. he can’t lie to you, either, at least not to save his life.

so, he’s basically stuck in whatever the greek mythology version of limbo is. 

for now, he’s saved by percy, annabeth, and grover, who walk in with a stack of DVDs and armfuls of movie snacks. 

dinner is fine, especially with the kids providing a good enough buffer. luke even catches you smiling and laughing along with them a few times. you approve of their choice in movies, starting with mulan. it’s one of luke’s favorites, too, but he can’t help but let his attention wander. 

the two of you have known each other for a long time. luke has felt your anger. he’s felt your frustration. you’ve been on opposing sides of explosive arguments, of brutal sparring matches. 

but, despite everything, luke’s never been hated by you. it’s unavoidable, given what he’s done and the path he’s on; it's just not something he's particularly eager to feel.

working for kronos….luke won't pretend he regrets it. something had to be done, to take back the poisonous world the gods created. 

he did it for you, even if you won't understand.

he'd do anything for you.

so, for now, he’s willing to endure the daggers you stare at him from the other side of the couch. 

—

v. 

in another life, you might have taken advantage of the queen bed and private room. both hard to come by at camp half-blood, if you’re not willing to risk zeus’ wrath for the latter.

gods, it feels like forever since you and luke snuck into cabin one because couldn’t keep your hands off each other, curses and lighting strikes be damned. 

you almost wish lightning would strike — at least then the bed would be warm. 

“i can feel you being mad at me,” luke whispers. 

“sorry, thought you’d already be gone by now,” you respond, sarcasm dripping through your words. “off to see whoever else you’d rather sleep with.”

“so, you are mad because we haven’t fucked in a while.”

a stupid slip of the tongue. you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and your entire body feels on fire for giving him any leverage on you. that was definitely not the warmth you were hoping for. 

“whatever,” you mumble, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, your back still towards luke. 

for the record, you’re mad because of whatever distance luke was forcing between you, or whatever wall he was putting up, for a reason you don’t understand. you’d always known luke well, but lately you haven’t been able to read him. 

and, sure. maybe you are…. frustrated. the two of you hadn’t been intimate in a while, yes, and your fingers are nothing compared to luke’s, but more than that: you just miss actually feeling him close to you. in any sense. 

you’re not sure how much time passes, and there’s nothing but silence. then, you hear his voice again, gentler than before, no cocky attitude laced through. 

“you never told me about your dad.”

ugh. of course, luke had overheard your conversation with annabeth earlier. damn those sly hermes’ genes.

you stay silent to give off the illusion that you’d fallen asleep, but luke doesn't fall for it. 

“we’ve shared a bunk for years, karma. i can tell when you’re not sleeping.” 

you pause for a few more seconds, but you know that luke is persistent.

“it didn’t matter,” is all you offer before he asks again.

“it did,” luke insists. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s not like we tell each other everything,” you scoff. “like, why didn’t you tell me about that prophecy? and why won’t you tell me whatever’s going on with you now?”

“that’s….that’s different.” 

“not really. i bet that it’s all for the same reason.”

“which is?”

 you debate telling luke the truth. 

it was no surprise that you had a certain reputation around camp: cunning, hot-tempered, brash. you were fine being the angry girl whose mother wasn’t enough of a god to warrant a cabin, but enough of a threat to be wary of. you didn’t want to be the one who was also dropped by her father, unwanted and too much of a burden. so, you swallowed the reality of the situation; pretended that nothing broke your heart, and that nothing ever would.

“i didn’t want you to look at me differently,” you admit. 

another pause, this time from the other side of the bed. 

“if it makes you feel better, i was glad that you stayed.”

you can’t help it; you let out a sardonic laugh.

“that’s not much of a comfort, since you haven’t seemed very thrilled with me lately.”

“that’s not….” luke falters. “i just mean that i don't know who i’d be if you left.”

in spite of the situation, the ongoing tension between you, you find yourself smiling. 

“always so dramatic,” you tease.

deep down, you know you’re not much better.

luke was part of the reason you might have stayed at camp, anyways. he was the reason why you didn’t fight harder to get back to your old life, and you always did like a good fight.

it was scary though, that one person had so much power over you and didn’t even know it. you tried to convince yourself that you stayed because luke had needed you, after his quest and everything. but, once you’d known how it felt to have luke in your life, you didn’t want to go back to a time you didn’t. 

truthfully, it still scares you.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” you admit softly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “especially when i don’t even know why we’re fighting in the first place.”

you wonder if you’d just thought that instead of saying it out loud because luke doesn’t respond, until you hear the sheets behind you shuffle, and feel luke position himself behind you.

"i'm sorry that we're fighting. it's my fault."

he settles a tentative hand on your exposed hip, where your shirt had ridden up. luke starts to trace circles onto your skin with his thumb, the way he sometimes does when he's nervous or having a bad dream.

"i’ve just been so….in my head. i don't want you to worry about what's going on with me, okay?

"luke —"

"i have to sort it out on my own.”

"you don’t, though,” you insist. “if you just tell me what’s going on, instead of pushing me away.”

another pause. you can feel him breathing down your neck, and in turn you inhale the spicy citrus of his body wash. it’s all so excruciatingly familiar as you wait for him to say something, anything. 

eventually, luke sighs, deeply, and confesses:

"it's just….we've known each other for so long, but this — us? so much of it is new. i don't want to fuck it up." 

"well, congratulations," you quip. "you're one step closer to getting there."

you meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but you feel luke stiffen at your words, his grip on your hip becoming almost painfully tight as if he's worried you'll slip away.

"i'm kidding, tiger." you weave your fingers through his to loosen his hold on you, and reassure him even more that you're not going anywhere, any time soon. "for better or for worse: you’re mine, and i'm yours. no matter how much either of us might fuck it up."

luke shuffles closer, and you melt into him even more. 

"do you really mean that?"

his voice is soft, surprisingly timid. you crane your neck back to look at him; luke stares at you, his gaze heavy enough to take your breath away. 

“of course.” 

you're so close, and you hadn't been in so long. luke's leg is somehow lodged in between your thighs, and you bite back a whimper as he brushes against you. you feel him behind you, already half-hard, and you rub your ass against him slightly, causing a groan to vibrate through his body. 

neither of you have to do much to crash your lips together.

you can sense how luke’s been unraveling, from the kiss alone. his lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure; his stubble scrapes against your cheek, and you’re dizzy with anticipation, imagining how it will leave a stinging sensation on other areas of your skin when luke has his way with you later. 

for now, you focus on your mouth on his: teeth clacking together, your tongue laving over the cut on luke’s bottom lip and tasting copper. luke brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into his mouth even more. 

it’s like the first time you kissed. all consuming. messy. urgent — like you've already run out of time. 

eventually, you have to pull yourself away from his grasp, your neck straining at the uncomfortable angle. luke takes the opportunity to suck bruises onto your neck while he presses his thigh harder against your cunt. he slips his other hand further underneath your shirt, cupping your breast and pinching your nipple between his fingers.  instinctively, you start rutting against him. 

“f-fuck,” you groan, relishing in the muscles of his naked thigh underneath you, defined and strong. 

luke chuckles, and you feel his breath warm against your skin. 

“you missed me that much, hm?” he taunts, encouraging you to go faster, harder. “you’re gonna cum before i even have a chance to undress you. doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“who —” your breath catches when luke’s hand settles around your throat, pulling you impossibly closer to him. you feel the outline of his abs against your lower back, and his length, hard and waiting. it’s difficult to finish your thought, but you try your best. “who says i only have to cum once?”

“that sounds like a challenge,” luke decides. “what’s our record — three? think we can beat that tonight?”

you laugh, already out of breath. “i think we can do it.”

“good girl.”

your thighs clench at the nickname, and it's one down, a few more to go. 

you maneuver luke so that he lays flat on the bed, your legs on either side of his hips. your hands fumble with the edge of his shirt, and he lets you remove it without any more hassle.

it's a little ironic, really, how much you and luke hate the gods — because looking at him underneath you, you're sure that something divine must have created him, and you have to thank them for it. sharp jaw, deep scar, flushed cheeks; curls slightly askew, and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat; that cocky smile — you'd worship luke castellan over any of the olympians. 

secretly, of course, you pretty much already do.

"like what you see?" luke smirks up at you, hands firmly on your ass.

you roll your eyes to save face. "come on, tiger, like you're not seconds away from tearing through your boxers." 

luke clicks his tongue, locks his calf around yours to switch your positions. you grunt as your back hits the mattress, but you very much appreciate the force and weight of luke above you. he practically rips off your shirt, then starts to nip and suck down your body. he kisses the fabric still covering your cunt, and you can feel his chuckle vibrate through your body when he encounters the wetness there. 

"i'm not the one who already ruined their underwear," luke teases as he finishes undressing you. he pauses at the sight of you, bottom half completely exposed. you're about to tell him to hurry the fuck up, but then luke spits onto your already soaked cunt and says: 

“i need to clean you up, baby.” he gives you another cheeky grin, teeth glowing like the cheshire cat, before diving in.

luke is skilled at everything he does, so of course he's quick to unravel you once more, this time with a persistent combination of tongue and teeth, lapping at your cunt like it's his last meal. 

as soon as you're done riding out your high, you yank luke by the leather cord around his neck to collide your lips with his again. 

you reach down to return the favor, snake your hand underneath the fabric of his underwear, and you're deeply satisfied to find him already sticky with his release.

“you already finished,” you tease, stroking his v-line. "and ruined your underwear without me even touching you." 

in the dim light of the moon, you can barely make out luke blushing. he hides his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder. 

“guess we’re both desperate, huh.” luke’s teeth graze your skin, his curls tickling your neck. “i need to be inside you, now, so how about you get on your hands and knees for me? i’ll get the condom.”

sometimes, luke tries to be gentle — but not this time. 

this time, he fucks you, hard and fast and deep. 

you love it, even if you might not be able to walk properly tomorrow.

with so much power behind each thrust, and the overwhelming pleasure, your arms threaten to give out, but luke catches you before you fall. he wraps a hand around your neck, bringing you flush against his chest as he continues to plunge his length into you. 

"listen to me," luke growls. he snakes a hand down to rub harsh circles on your clit. "the one thing the gods did right is make this perfect, tight little pussy of yours. you were fucking made for me, weren't you?" 

all you can do is whimper, closing your eyes at his filthy, sinful words. 

you aren't used to luke being so possessive, and certainly not in these past few weeks. it's making your head spin in the best way. you can feel your orgasm build in the pit of your abdomen.

"were you made for me?" luke asks again. he squeezes your neck slightly, and you gasp at the pressure. "answer me, or i'll stop." 

you don’t think it’s likely he’ll stop; you’re sure he’s just as lost in the sound of your cunt squelching and the feeling of you sucking him in. but, he does slow down, only a little bit, and it's enough for you to start whining.

"y-yes, luke."

"are you mine?"

you don't answer fast enough. luke stills his hips completely and you almost burst into tears.

you moan, trying to move against him in vain. luke keeps a firm grip on you, making it hard to cause any sort of friction between your bodies.

"i'm yours," you promise.

luke plants a firm kiss behind your ear. “that’s my girl,” he whispers darkly.

satisfied, luke resumes his pace. he moves the hand around your neck to your chin, angling you accordingly so he can crash his lips onto yours. 

it doesn't take long to feel the tension in your abdomen snap, wetness gushing out of you. exhausted, you collapse onto the mattress. luke slips out of you.

the next few seconds consist of you trying to bring yourself back down to reality after such a high. 

luke turns you around just to face him as he hovers over you. he lodges his hand behind your ear and taps your cheek to get your attention. your eyes flutter open.

“did you just —” 

the dampness between your legs, and on the sheets underneath you, is enough evidence: you just squirted.

"i….” you gulp, feeling yourself flush. “i’ve never done that before."

luke stares at your glistening cunt. you wonder if you should be embarrassed, but then he locks eyes with you. you've never seen them so dark, pupils almost fully blown, just a sliver of brown showing through.

"you’re so fucking hot."

your heart flutters. 

“you’re not too bad yourself, tiger, or i wouldn’t be in this mess.” you wink at him, still trying to catch your breath. your eyes wander lower. you note luke in the current state he’s in; you realize that the scales are nowhere near balanced. “that’s three for me, and only one for you. let me taste you.” 

he doesn't need to be told twice. you get on your knees once more, this time facing him as he kneels in front of you. luke rips off the condom, something to deal with later, and you take him in your mouth, cheeks hollowed and tears brimming your eyes feeling him fuck your throat. when he finishes, you swallow him whole, savoring every drop. he pulls you up for a kiss; you can still taste yourself on him, and it mixes with his new release, a combination that is more than a little intoxicating. 

“fuck,” luke mumbles as he pulls away. he swipes his thumb over the corner of your mouth where some of his cum dribbled out. “i know that was intense, but would you be up for another round? "

"yeah," you reply without a second thought, reaching up to thread your fingers through his curls to ground yourself. 

maybe you should thank artemis for the full moon tonight, giving you just the right amount of silver light to illuminate the sculpted curves and edges of luke's body. his skin is also littered with bruises and bites of your design, chaotic and beautiful. luke looks like a mess, just as you're sure you do. 

you want more. you need more.

"we gotta go for four, remember? but...maybe we, uh…"

"....slow it down this time?" luke finishes your thought. 

you nod, grateful that you and luke are on the same page. he scrambles off the bed to get another condom.

"shit. i don't have another one.”

"check my bag, too," you tell him. luke complies, but comes up short once more.  

you’re sitting up against the headboard now, and luke returns to kneel in front of you. 

"i can use my fingers,” luke offers. “or eat you out again —"

“or we could just do without a condom this time?” you suggest. luke raises an eyebrow at you, so you think through the possibilities out loud. "we both got tested before our first time together and haven’t been with anyone since.” you find yourself pausing for confirmation on that, and luke nods once. “i’m on birth control. obviously there’s still a risk that something happens, but maybe just this one time? you can just pull out whenever you’re ready….if you're okay with that."

luke waits, almost like he thinks you might change your mind, before finally answering:

“yeah, i’m okay with it if you are. i’ve always wanted to fuck you raw. i just didn’t think you’d be into it — and didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

you have to kiss him then. because how is it that the boy who just gave you three jaw clenching, toe curling, heart pounding orgasms be so sweet and considerate?

before you know it, you’re flat on your back, sheets slightly scratchy with stray sand. you don't care much because luke hovers above you; he presses his forehead to yours, curls falling in front of his face. 

"just so you know," luke starts, just as you feel him enter you once more. "i must have been made for you, too. i'm just as much yours as you are mine."

you smirk, bite your lip to keep from moaning so that you can keep up the arrogance, just a bit longer. 

"always so dramatic," you mock, as if your cunt isn’t squeezing around him at his sweet nothings. 

luke grins at you sheepishly, his cheeks flushed. 

"guess that means the gods did two things right," you joke, exhaling when you feel luke brush against that gummy spot deep within you. "maybe we've taken them for granted. maybe we should - " he hits that spot again, and your breath hitches. you dig your nails into his shoulders as he rocks back and forth. “maybe we should thank them.”

luke clicks his tongue, grips your hip firmly. "not a chance, sweetheart. the gods’ll get what they deserve."

you don’t care enough to ask luke what he means. you care more about him going faster. you’re about to tell him to do so, and to throw your legs over his shoulders, but he does it himself before you get the chance. you feel him slipping deeper within you, the force and passion behind each movement, his body molding to every curve and crevice of yours. 

made for each other.

you’re so sensitive that your orgasm approaches quickly. as he helps you ride it out, his thrusts get sloppier, and you know he’s almost reached his peak, too. 

“fuck,” he grunts. “i’m close.” luke starts to pull out, but then you lock your ankles behind his neck. 

“don’t,” you command. 

“a-are you sure?” he looks at you, wide-eyed.

“i just want to feel you this once.”

he nods and brings you in for one more bruising kiss. he finishes inside you, warm and wet. 

luke leaves once he catches his breath, and comes back with a damp towel to clean you up. he knows your body, recognizes how sensitive you are, and presses kisses on the inside of your thighs, where the same lips had made bruises before. 

even completely fucked out, your mind starts to unpack everything that’s wrong in your life. like how luke has always been a little too good at pretending, with everyone else at least, and something serious must be going on if he's trying to fool you, too.  

this luke with you now, the one who gently wipes his cum from between your legs after fucking you so relentlessly, is your luke. it feels like your luke is slipping right through your fingers, and you’re wracking your brain trying to figure out how this can stop before losing him completely.

wait….did luke say something about getting revenge on the gods? your mind is still a bit cloudy, but you could’ve sworn —

 “are you okay?” 

his question puts pause on your spiraling. he’s done cleaning you up, throws the towel on the floor and settles back on the bed, next to you. you’re close enough for the softest whisper, your limbs intertwined beneath tangled sheets.

you watch luke carefully as he waits for an answer and surveys your body, tracing his fingers over the marks he'd left underneath your jaw, across your shoulders, over your collarbones and down your stomach. 

"i didn't hurt you, did i?"

“i’m okay,” you assure him. luke’s hand stops to gently rest on your cheek. your other worries are pushed to the side for the time being: for now, it's just you and luke. “do you think we could pick up a plan b pill tomorrow though, just in case? i love you, but i’m not ready to have your babies.”

luke widens his eyes like a minotaur in headlights. he drops his hand.

 “you’ve never said that before.”

“that i want to have your babies?” you jest, slightly amused at how panicked luke seems.

luke blushes and clears his throat. “well, that too. i meant the whole ‘i love you’ thing, though.” 

your amusement evaporates. you swear your heart stops beating momentarily.

“oh, shit.…” 

you’re not quite sure what to say; you’ve felt this way for a while, truthfully. 

of course you love luke. you can't remember exactly when you realized it, but you just….know.

because if what you felt for luke wasn’t love, then you were foolish to have secretly bought into what silena beauregard had been on about for years, and aphrodite herself might just be out of a job. 

“i know we’re kind of in a weird place, but, yeah, i mean it. you don’t have to say it back —”

luke leans forward to kiss you. gentler this time, but just as firm. “i love you."

"you do?" your heart resumes its beating. 

"of course i do. i have ever since my first morning at camp.”

“yeah right,” you chuckle in disbelief, feeling your cheeks heat up. “it’s not a competition, you know, over who loved who first.”

“karma, i’m serious,” he insists. “someone taught me to burn offerings, and with everything that happened with thalia, i obviously wasn't in the worshiping mood, but then you leaned over and whispered —"

"they like the smell of begging." 

luke grins at you, and you reach up to brush your thumb against the dimple in his cheek. 

"exactly. somehow, that was what i needed to hear. it was nice to know that i wasn't the only one who didn’t want to just accept things the way they were….” he loses his train of thought. luke grabs your hand in his. “i wish i had told you earlier. after all this, i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t —”

“whatever happens,” luke continues, somewhat ominously. “i love you, y/n.”

you hadn't heard luke use your real name in a while. you fall asleep, heart full with the memory of him weaving it together with those three magic words. 

the next morning, you wake up — you actually sleep in, for the first time in years — and decide that if you could stay here forever, you would. 

the morning sun stings your eyes through the sheer curtains. the sticky heat of summer sits heavy in the room, and stray grains of sand tickle your skin underneath the sheets. waves wash gently on the shore outside, and an ocean breeze mixes with the smell of burnt cinnamon. you can hear annabeth, grover, and percy crashing dishes and bickering and causing chaos in the kitchen as, you imagine, they scramble to surprise you with breakfast. 

luke is next to you, on his stomach. his curls are a mess, covering most of his face. 

evidence from last night: scratches from your nails prominent on his back, his neck decorated with purple bruises in the shape of your lips. you shift slightly and feel a dull ache between your legs, so you'd call it even.

outside, something clatters on the floor, and you hear percy swear.

luke's eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, and he starts to move. "we should get up before they burn down the place." 

you press your hand to luke's shoulder blade, barely, but in his half-asleep state, it's enough to keep him in bed. luke moves to his side, facing you. you bring your hand up to brush curls away from luke's eyes, even if they're still closed.

"they've literally been to hell and back," you recall his sarcastic words from last night. "i think they can handle pancakes." 

the corners of luke's mouth curl upwards. 

"you're such a smart ass," he mumbles.

you lean forward, plant a kiss underneath luke's chin. his stubble scratches against your lips. 

"don't pretend you don't love it, tiger."

luke breathes steadily. you think he might've fallen asleep once more until he presses his lips to your forehead, pulls you towards him, and quips:

"i love you."

your heart quickens as you echo his words. something churns in your stomach, too.

because this peace isn't something that feels permanent.

you're the children of gods, and there's always a catch. some inevitable plot twist where lovers end up separated, where heroes end up dead or cursed. 

it's nauseating ��� dangerous, even — that you want a happy ending, a desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut. it's cruel that the fates keep twisting, taunting you with what can never be.

no monsters; no gods or titans; no prophecies.

just this.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ APATHY OF THE CHIEF JUSTICE — NEUVILLETTE.

contents. archon quest spoilers, liddol weepy dragon neuvillette :(, established relationships, reverse comfort, lots of kissies 4 him, it’s a bit self indulgent my bad but he’s just a sensitive lil friendly guy who tries his best he makes me sad :(, maybe ooc idrk how to write him yet

it starts raining out of nowhere on a sunny day, hard. you frown—you know exactly what this means, walking up to neuvillette’s office in concern.

“good afternoon, sedene,” you smile, patting the melusine on the head. she leans into your touch happily, content with the small show of affection.

“good afternoon. if you’re here to visit the chief justice, i have to warn you. today, he seems…” sedene trails off, unsure how to finish, and you hum knowingly as you nod.

“i see,” you murmur, “i’ll see if i can help.” you turn and knock on the office door—it’s silent for a moment before you call, “it’s me.”

you hear some shuffling before neuvillette finally answers. it’s a quiet, “come in,” and nothing more. you sigh before entering—that can’t be a good sign.

neuvillette looks…well, devastated. with red rimmed eyes and a slightly pink nose, his cheeks trailed with delicate tears that break your heart. you walk over, cupping his cheek and brushing away a stray tear with your thumb as he closes his eyes.

“what’s got you so upset,” you murmur, “the weather has taken a rather drastic turn, wouldn’t you say?”

he sniffles, the poor thing—it’s as precious as it is heartbreaking. “i believe…i believe i may have made a mistake,” he mumbles, “a terrible one, in fact.”

“oh?” you raise a brow, leaning down and brushing your lips against his forehead soothingly, “i’m sure you’ve done your best, neuvillette.”

“no,” his voice breaks, a fresh round of tears falling past his lash line and staining his skin. you furrow your brows, cupping both sides of his face as your forehead presses to his, “no, i didn’t…i didn’t do what i should have. in fact, i did nothing at all.”

“i’m sure that’s not true,” you reason, “you always do what you can.”

“i could’ve stopped the duel,” he shakes his head, and instantly you know what must be on his mind. “i thought…i thought i understood but i didn’t. i still don’t.”

neuvillette doesn’t understand humans as well as he hopes—it’s changed a bit since you’ve shown up, but their emotions are far too complicated for him sometimes. you help him, sometimes—you try to show him they’re not much different from him, but he’s learning slowly on his own.

you nod slowly at his words, as if you understand, before pressing soft kisses along his face. you scatter them along his cheeks, over the tip of his nose, just at the corners of his mouth and right on the center of his forehead.

he sniffles again, miserably.

“oh, love,” you murmur gently—callas has always been a complicated topic, one you’ve carefully treaded since it’s happened. his lips wobble, and you pull him into you, letting his head rest against your chest as you sit on the armrest of his chair. “callas wasn’t your fault,” you whisper, “none of us could’ve known.”

“i believed he was guilty,” he confesses, “otherwise, why duel? i…i didn’t think he would do it for…”

“and you weren’t alone in your assumptions,” you reason. that doesn’t seem to make him feel any better—in fact, you feel your shirt dampen, and the rain hits the glass of his window harder.

“but i am the chief justice,” he insists, “how i can be so if i let innocent men throw away their lives?”

you’re silent for a bit—it’s difficult to give him an answer. it’s difficult to offer him any solace over something like this. but you do know it’s not his fault—and soon enough, you hope he’ll accept that too.

but until then, you thread your fingers into his hair as you press a chaste kiss to the crown of his head.

“being the chief justice doesn’t mean you have all the answers,” you say quietly, catching a tear as it slips down his cheek with your thumb, “you won’t have all the answers. but you’ll do your best to find them. i think that’s enough.”

“lady navia yelled at me,” he tells you. you want to chuckle a little at the way he says it, like child who’s been scolded—but now is not the time, not when he’s so upset. “a few days ago. because i did not stop it. she…she was right—”

“lady navia is grief stricken,” you interrupt, “you have to understand. she didn’t mean—”

“but i could’ve stopped it—”

“anyone could’ve, neuvillette,” you insist, “lady furina, or even clorinde. but no one knew, and that’s okay. it’s how callas wanted it, i’m afraid.”

he’s silent for a bit, weighs your words as he presses against your chest further, let’s your fingers trail through his hair and stroke along his cheek for a bit.

it rains in fontaine—whenever there is something to mourn, it rains. perhaps the people can know this way that they are not alone in their grief, that there is always something, someone to share the burden of pain with them.

“i’ll visit,” he mumbles after some time, “to pay my respects to mister callas.”

“i think that’s a lovely idea,” you smile, poking the tip of his nose and pulling the tiniest of smiles from him, “would you like me to come?”

“no, i think i should do it alone,” he says thoughtfully, “but thank you.”

you feel his hand grab yours, his fingers lacing with yours as he gives it a small squeeze—perhaps he still has a long way to go to understand humans and their complex emotion. but this one, he thinks he understands well enough.

he loves you, just as much as you love him—it’s simple enough to understand.

my lil cinnamon roll :( my emotional liddol weepy dragon :(

[agi-ppangx]

side quest (lee minho x gn!reader)

fluff, no warnings, shy mimo !!!

an: based on this lovely request !! i had so much fun writing this and i really like how it turned out, so i hope you'll enjoy it as well<3 please remember that feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated🫶🏽

“excuse me? hi,” you heard someone’s voice behind you as you were collecting your stuff from the desk. when you looked over your shoulder you noticed a guy from your classes who sat in the back row and always did great at exams. you smiled shyly with rosy cheeks and tilted your head a bit in a silent question. 

“hi?” you responded hesitantly, desperately trying to remember his name. It was something starting with an m maybe…?

“i’m minho, we haven’t really spoken but um…” he said quietly, fidgeting with his bracelet. minho, right. “i noticed the badges on your bag and i- i wanted to ask if you play that game?” he finally mumbled, looking at you. you noticed his ears were as red as a tomato and it actually made your heart beat a bit faster - he was just too cute like that. 

“oh, um- yeah, i do,” you said, glancing at your bag with a smile. “i’m not that good, though. i mostly play for the vibes, y’know, there’s not really anyone who could teach me all of those complicated strategies and stuff,” you huffed, lowering your head, and you didn’t notice as minho’s face lit up with hope at your words. his eyes sparkled as he watched you carefully adjust one of the badges and it made him a bit bolder to speak up again. 

“maybe we could play together sometimes? i could teach you some things,” he suggested and it made you smile wider than before. you raised your head, looking minho in the eyes and it made him a little flustered, but he couldn’t give up now. not when he finally spoke to you, after so many times when he saw you in class and wished you would notice his curious gaze whenever you would adjust your badges as usual. minho thought this subtle habit of yours was oddly heartwarming, the way you always took care of them made him wonder if you would also take care of someone the same way. 

“sure, i’d love that,” you said with a huge grin and minho finally felt like he could breathe again. he exhaled loudly, earning a soft giggle from you. 

“can i maybe have your number, then?” he asked shyly, handing you his phone, and you smirked. 

“be careful, because i'm about to think that the game was just a cover to get my number,” you giggled again, getting bolder, and you typed your number quickly as his eyes widened. 

“no! no, i- you just seem really cool and we play the same game and-” he started rambling in pure panic, so you playfully rolled your eyes and placed a tiniest peck on his cheek to make him stop overthinking your joke. you could see his mind go haywire and it actually made your heart ache a little, because you didn’t want the poor boy to get upset. 

“don’t worry, i wouldn’t mind anyway. i’ll wait for a text from you then, yeah?” you asked with a smile and minho could only nod, too shocked to comprehend the entire situation. you waved at him and walked away, leaving minho with a pounding heart and burning cheeks. 

you flirting with him was something he didn’t even dare to think would happen, but he kind of hoped it could lead to something more. it became like a side quest for him and minho was more than happy to devote himself to it if the winning prize would be your heart.

taglist !

@lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01 @hannahhbahng @prettymiye0n @ggsez31 @laylasbunbunny @like-a-diamondinthesky @axel-skz @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @l3visbby @skzhoes @minhosbitterriver @astraystayyh @xichien @linospuddin

[averageallogene]

Lyney ♡⊹˚ His lucky charm [NSFW]

✧˖°. Summary: Before his most recent shows, Lyney seems to have some nervousness regarding his abilities as a magician. Thankfully, his lovely girlfriend is always there to ease his mind beforehand, providing him with the luck her magician boyfriend needs.

fem. reader (3rd person) ; this is basically smut with little more than an intro to it, so beware. Also SPOILERS for ACT I of the first Fontaine Archon Quest. 

5k words.

notes. Hi yes hello I am back, I have played the two Archon Quests, and after working a little for my thesis I decided to write something by my own volition <3. I’m not sure if Lyney here might be portrayed accurately but nonetheless I really wanted to write a smaller piece for him before doing it for other characters! He’s adorable :( ♡ Enjoy ✧˖°

By clicking on the “expand”, you are hereby agreeing to view NSFW content. PLEASE if you are under 18, DO NOT INTERACT. 

PLEASE do not report, as this is my warning to those who do not wish to view NSFW. I, like most writers, work hard on each piece we choose to publish, and reporting it will decrease the number of readers it reaches... Thank you for understanding ✧˖°

Magicians have no need for something many folk cling onto - luck. After all, every trick they perform is something they study, polish, rearrange, rehearse. Everything is staged to the finest of details, leaving no room for unpredictable variables to enter the equation. Every performance is acted out accordingly, a mental checklist going on inside the performer's mind as each prop is placed and moved about, each line is repeated from the rehearsals, each movement in one’s body is carefully played out. Everything is a carefully crafted performance, and what need do they have for luck? None.

To Lyney, such is the truth. Well, at least this philosophy held itself rock solid, up until the incident that nearly landed him a guilty verdict. Despite his confidence in his abilities to wow the crowds, even before there would always be a small but ever present pitter patter to his heart, a quiet reminder of his own nervousness before the show would begin. He would usually handle himself most well, though through the eyes of those closest to them, the normal feeling of “performance jitters” wasn’t all that well hidden. Well, and if that were the case, more so after things went back to normal.

His breathing would be a little more unstable, his fingers would fidget with one of his cards as his eyes darted about his changing room. He would fiddle with his exquisite hat, rebraid his hair while trying to ease himself. Things had gone back to normal, their scheduled shows were once more popular and always fully booked. Yet still, there always was this sense of anxiety deep in his stomach, never truly going away as he quietly wondered if the show would go as planned. 

Well, thankfully he had someone to help ease his mind each time. And as if right on que as he brooded over the upcoming performance, a knock to his dressing room was heard, the door opening to reveal the loveliest of sights. At the door stood [F/N], his lovely girlfriend who would always visit him before he went on stage. 

“Hi Lyney! Hope I’m not intruding?” She asked sweetly, smiling his way which only helped to ease his worries.

“You never are, my love. Come in!” He breathes out, the eagerness to have her close not quite passing unnoticed to her. He extends his arms before fully taking her in his embrace, sighing deeply as he inhales the familiar perfume she would always wear. His favorite. 

“How are you feeling?” [F/N]’s voice grows softer, her arms resting around his lower back as she smiles his way. The silence that follows is enough of an answer, her magician simply distracting himself with playing with the tips of her hair. “...Nervous?”

“...Hah, why it seems nothing really blinks past you. I may have taught you… Too well…” He jests, the smile on his face betraying him before it drops slightly. It reveals some of his vulnerability for her, his violet eyes locking with her own before he speaks up again. “I suppose it’s just some performance jitters again, nothing new...”

“It’s okay Lyney. You’ll do great, I know so.” Her smile shone brighter than the very sun, beaming with warmth that was only cast to him. It comforted his very being, filling his conflicted heart with sugary sweetness that only soothed him in a way no one else could. And if that wasn’t enough, the next few sentences were the ones that would always, always seal the deal for him. “Everything will go well, and everyone will be wowed by your hard work. I’m proud of you.”

It was as though his heart was struck, pierced with cupid’s arrow as he couldn’t keep up the calm and confident act. Lyney’s body visibly relaxed, a content snicker escaping his lips as his arms brought her closer. His lips were quicker than his words, filling her face with brief yet lovely kisses, watching with glee as she giggled as a response. Amidst each kiss he whispered words of gratitude for her support, his hands roaming throughout her lower back as he yearned to feel her closer and closer. 

“Lyney… You didn’t even let me finish!” She laughed, her words being cut off with a deeper kiss as his lips found her own. She could feel his smile against her lips, the magician quite literally stealing her breath away before finally pulling away. 

“Oh, I’m sorry dear. I just can’t contain myself, you’re just too adorable for me to!” He sighed, the flamboyant hum in which he spoke glittering the otherwise full truth she very well knew. “To think a professional magician would be wowed in such a way, you’ll be the death of me…”

“You almost make it sound like I’m such a bad thing.” [F/N] rolled her eyes playfully, her fingers carefully adjusting his hair before inspecting to see if his braid was well done. 

It was in small moments like so that Lyney would cease to speak, allowing his beloved to do as she pleased. His eyes would focus solely on her, watching how her expression would shift, her eyes roaming about to ensure he looked his absolute best. He could feel his heart beating hard against his ribcage, no longer solely because of the nervousness he would feel before each one of his shows. The mere sight of his girlfriend was enough to blow away the growing blaze of anxiety, leaving it only in embers that with time would cease. Her mere care, her mere nature, her beauty inside out… 

It was enough to leave Lyney riddled into little more than a lovesick puppy, the loopy smile upon his pretty face being reserved only for her. 

“Lyney?” [F/N] called for him once more, watching as he finally seemed to come back to. His hands were roaming around her hips, carefully circling around her figure as he finally let out a soft hum for her to continue. “You’re a little too quiet… Everything okay?”

“I’m so lucky to have you, [F/N]...”

It was her turn to be left speechless, her face morphing to surprise as their gazes locked. He watched as the loveliest shade of red adorned her cheeks, the flusteredness he’d often cause on her never failing to amuse him. Still, despite so, he hoped she knew just how sincere he was with his words. 

“Oh Archons… What’s gotten into you?” Her voice whined a little lower, her eyes turning away to avoid him for a mere instance in which her flusteredness was still far too raw. She could feel how his lips chased after her skin, peppering her with light and soft kisses by the corner of her mouth. 

“Nothing.” He responded, his usual flair dropping to soft whispers as he carefully turned her around, helping her have a seat on his vanity. Between fleeting kisses, Lyney took the opportunity to bring himself between her legs, his hands never letting her stray far from himself. “I just wish to remind you more often, because it’s the truth.”

“Well I think it’s the other way around, you know… I’m the one that’s lucky here.” [F/N] smiled softly, her hands finding rest on his shoulders before gently massaging his tense muscles. Her boyfriend leaned back, his eyes gleaming with a twinkle that seemed familiar, one of challenge and mischievousness that would often leave her questioning before finally realizing what he’d plotted. 

“My my, is that so?” He hummed, head tilting to the side while his grip on her tightened ever so slightly. “If that’s the case, how come each time you visit me beforehand, every show I perform runs far better than what I expect?”

“Oh, you’re really running with that?” She giggled, music to his ears. “Only because I kissed you that one time, telling you it would bring you good luck?”

“And did that show not go beyond amazing? In fact, I do believe that was the peak in my career thus far.” He reasoned with a nod to his head, kissing her deeply before resting his forehead against her own. “Therefore, I’m the lucky one here, and you my dear [F/N], are my lucky charm.”

“Oh Lyney…” She sighed softly, stroking her hand through his blond locks slowly. “I didn’t know that tonight my magician was planning to turn me into putty in his hands.”

It was his turn to laugh, quietly, yet full of warmth and endearment. “It’s what you get for stealing this magician’s heart long ago.”

“Ah! I’m gone. Goodbye Fontaine, I am melting from my boyfriend’s words!” [F/N] leaned back dramatically, Lyney catching her before she would fall too far and hit her head against the large mirror of his vanity. The pair laughed in unison, fingers interlacing as he brought her close to himself once more.

“You’ve definitely gotten that dramatic flair from me.” He pointed out, his free hand now resting firmly on her thigh. He watched with hearts in his eyes as she giggled at his comment, shrugging her shoulders before bringing him closer with her legs. 

“I love you.” [F/N] whispered, leaning forward before it being her turn to steal a few kisses for herself. 

It never stopped after that though, one going after the other, kisses lingering longer before them turning into a longer makeout session. The way her lips were always so soft, so warm, the faint taste of her favorite chapstick melting against his own, it never failed to leave Lyney yearning for more, his whole being focusing solely on his lover whilst everything else blurred around them. His tongue carefully peeked through his own lips before swiping across her own, the grin being felt against her mouth as he felt her jolt slightly from the antic. Giving him permission to continue, Lyney carefully led the dance, his tongue meeting her own as they both ignored the need of air, muffled breaths fanning one another as their hands held the other closer, tighter. Before he knew it he was leaning himself forward and her backwards, a little more, his body pressing against her own before they were practically bent with her head touching the mirror behind them. Her legs were pressed against his sides, never letting him stray too far, her hands stroking through his back and hair, sending shivers down his spine as sparks ignited deep within him. 

“L…Lyn-ney…” She murmured between breaths, him finally tilting his head so the two of them could breathe. The way her tongue stuck out of her mouth as she breathed heavily seemed to only entice something further deep within him. “W…What about your show?”

“Worried about that?” He inquired, the clear endearment for her concern being evident in his tone of voice. He leaned closer, voice whispering as he slowly licked the strand of saliva that had dropped down her chin. “We still have time, if that’s what’s troubling you dear.”

“H-Hah…” The words seemed to get stuck on her throat as his hands maneuvered around her frame, carefully parting her legs a little more to give him better access. His fingers quickly grabbed a hold of the hem of her dress, lifting it up slightly before resting his palm on her warm thigh, his lips still remaining close to her own as his very being craved more of her.

“Do you want me to stop?” Lyney softly asked, leaning back as his own breath grew uneven. His face too displayed a lovely shade of pink, his lips redder after the relentless kisses she’d given him. His eyes were glittering with excitement, half-lidded with pure love as he waited for her response. His thumb was caressing her skin softly, the circular motion he did easing her more than arousing her as he searched for her honest answer.

It was embarrassing to admit, but [F/N] absolutely did not want to stop. Her body felt far too hot for her to go back on it now. “I… N-No.”

“Are you certain, dear?” He leaned closer, eyes squinting softly as his breath fanned her face. His hands slithered a little more upwards, giving her goosebumps as they traveled up to her hips. “I don’t want to put you in any situation that might be even a little uncomfortable… I will understand if this is-”

“N-No Lyney, I’m okay.” She nodded her head to reassure him, her hands gripping his clothing tighter as if not wanting him to move an inch away. “I admit, it’s… A bit nerve wracking, given the place but… I still don’t want you to stop.”

He bit his lip, smiling with both excitement and apology. “I’m sorry love, I always seem to get carried away when it’s about you.”

It definitely was the truth, especially given with the way his hands moved around her body. There was always a certain kind of care in each movement, his grip upon her skin tight and loving, as if reassuring himself she was there, with him. Lyney was both selfish and giving when it came to his beloved [F/N], always wanting more for himself, yet always wanting to reassure her she felt properly adored.  

“We’ll have to be-” He kissed her again, followed by another, her lips trying to keep up with his own as he gave her fleeting kisses. “Very quiet- Okay?”

“M-Mhm.” She nodded her head, her face blushing a deeper shade of red as his fingers finally lifted her skirt up. Her own hands helped him hold it up for him, watching him as it finally dawned on her, his figure getting nice and cozy in between her legs before he kneeled down. “L-Lyney?”

The grin he gave her was enough to make her lower region throb. 

“I’m craving a taste of you, baby. Could you please indulge me?” He whispered, his hands parting her legs before resting securely against them. His head turned to her left thigh, leaving a trail of small bites and kisses as he came closer, delighting himself in every reaction she offered him, every gasp and jump, every attempt at caging his head in between her legs. 

“J-Just- Don’t tease me, please.” [F/N] outright pleaded, earning herself an honest nod of his head as his eyes sparkled in anticipation. 

Carefully, her eyes jumped back at the closed door before going back to him, her breath trembling as she breathed out from her parted lips. Whilst one hand held her dress up, the other slowly lowered, helping him to remove the lacey underwear that hid his most wanted prize away. And with a lift of her hips, they were off easily, hanging by her ankle as Lyney’s gaze focused solely on the erotic view before him. His [F/N], holding her dress up for him, sat on his vanity as her chest rose and lowered irregularly, her pussy in full display for him alone. It was enough to get him aroused, the fabric of his own clothes becoming far too constricting as he felt his boner raging to be freed.

His experienced hands crept closer, thumbs slowly hovering her juicy lips before deliciously parting them. He could feel his mouth go dry in an instance, the view of her leaking pussy outright hypnotizing him as she let out a quiet moan. He couldn’t help himself but play around with her pussy lips a little, after all, how could he not? The way her pretty hole would throb in want, leaking out her nectar only for him, dripping down her skin and onto his table, the squelching sounds being nearly enough for him to lose all sense of control. He couldn’t help himself but stare, watch in lust before her soft moans and whines became a little too loud, all the while still arousing him even further.

“Lyney!” She pleaded in a whisper, the pout she offered him sending his heart racing. 

“Yes, you’re right baby… I’m sorry.” He hummed, leaning forth before finally giving her heat a long, slow and deep lick. The vibrations from his hum resonated with her pussy, sending pleasant shockwaves throughout her body as she shut her lips right before moaning. “We’re gonna have to be quieter, love. Can you do that for me?” 

It was difficult to hear him when he was practically squishing his face against her pussy, yet from the mere fact he’d stopped, [F/N] had been able to deduct what he wanted from her quickly enough. She nodded her head eagerly, blushing even deeper as she bit her lip.

“Mhm… ‘M sorry…”

It truly divided Lyney’s heart in two, for he absolutely adored hearing every sound [F/N] would bless him with. Her voice already was pure melody for his ears, all the more when she would be moaning due to his administrations. However, the pure excitement of their ordeal, having a chance of being caught, it was enough to keep him going, to entice him to lick more, to lap around her clit again, to suckle on it whilst plunging one of his fingers deep inside. The way his beloved would instead jolt more often, writhe above him, attempt to suffocate him as her legs tried to close around him, all to not be as vocal, it all had him entranced. 

"You taste so good…" He groaned against her folds, his tongue practically spelling out his love for her as he ate her out with such passion. The groans and sighs that would escape him would only please her further, sending [F/N] closer and closer to her own release as she practically bit down her tongue to quiet out her own moans. Lyney simply couldn't have enough of her taste, lapping every last drop to his greedy tongue as he yearned for more, fingering and licking it out of her as he could feel her gummy walls throb against his fingers. "You're so wet, too… So dirty, my angel."

"L-Lyney…" She mumbled, her erotic whine finally pulling him out of his trance to look her way. By that point she'd already held her fingers around his hair, him not even noticing up until that very moment. 

His light eyes glanced up, for a moment the magician forgetting how to even breathe. It felt as though the wind was knocked out of him, staring up to see his beloved gazing down at him with such a needy look. Her cheeks were flushed, the thin layer of sweat visible on her forehead as her grip on his hair tightened softly. Her teeth were by that point gritting tightly against the hem of her dress, it being her faint attempt at keeping her noises down to a minimum as he ate her out to his heart's content. The view was dirty, marvelous. The dress was lifted to such a way he could now see part of her tummy as well, her body lined with sweat as it reacted to every little touch he gave her. 

It drove Lyney over the edge. He couldn't wait any longer. The breath finally left his mouth in a shaky notion, her thighs shaking like jello as it hit her bare pussy before he got up. 

"Gods, you're so gorgeous [F/N]." He outright moaned, his fingers carefully taking the fabric out of her mouth. He watched how she heaved deeply, her lips tempting him to latch onto them. And who was he to refuse, but a poor magician whose heart had been stolen by the woman before him?

He leaned in quickly, capturing her lips against his own as they both moaned against one another. Their hands couldn't let go of the other, fiddling with their clothes as they attempted to find the best position to finally get what they both wanted. [F/N] leaned herself to the edge of the table, her legs still apart for him as her fingers now fiddled with his belt, unbuckling it before finally freeing him of his leather shorts. Lyney could feel his cock throbbing already, eager to finally plunge inside of her spongy walls and ease the yearning he so deeply felt. He groaned against her lips as she finally freed his hard length, pumping it for him slowly as it was now her turn to suck on his tongue with her own lips. 

"I need you, Lyney…" [F/N] moaned, helping him to part her legs further as he kept his face closer to her own. 

"I know, baby, I know. It's only fair I indulge you after you've treated me so well, right?" He hummed with a smile, all the while his face indicating just how excited he was. 

He grunted quietly as he carefully rubbed his cock against her leaking folds, the two of them attempting to quiet their moans down to the best of their abilities. [F/N] could feel how the particularly protruding vein on the side of his cock rubbed against her pussy, sending tears to the corners of her eyes as she felt herself closer and closer to her release after being so well tended to by her lover. Lyney in turn kissed her tears away, his lips never leaving her face as he practically gulped down her moans to himself. After coating both her pussy with his pre and his cock with her bountiful juices he stopped, lining himself with her entrance before, with a glance shared, he carefully thrusted himself inside.

His hands gripped onto her knees, his lips shutting themselves tightly so as to not moan out as he often would. The way his eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to not voice much of the obvious pleasure he was feeling was a delightful view, [F/N]'s face blushing madly as she brought him closer. Her arms wrapped around him tightly as she hid her face against his neck, her lips pressing against his skin as she quietly whimpered in pleasure. 

"Ah, Lyney!" She moaned quietly, her nails digging into his shoulders as his own sighs of pleasure hit her ear. 

"You're so tight, baby-" He in turn hissed gently, feeling how her spongy walls swallowed him whole as he finally bottomed out. His own hands were gripping harshly against her skin, the two of them sharing moans between one another even as his tip hit her deepest part. "Fuck, you're so wet. It feels so good."

"Please Lyney, give me more…" [F/N] pleaded to him, her eyes wide and glistening with pleasure as she leaned back for an instance. At that point she was once more leaning back against the rest of his vanity, granting him access to pound as deeply as his heart desired. The mere sight of her in such a way was enough for him to derail. 

"Archons, anything for you [F/N]." The magician grunted, his hands leaving her knees as his lips latched onto her own. 

By her own she was able to open her legs as widely as possible, the hem of her dress covering everything from the mid-thigh up as her hands were far too busy around his body. They wrapped around him tightly, effectively caging Lyney in between her much to his contentment. His own hands were busy holding her as close as possible, resting on her hips securely as to not knock her or anything else out, the items on his furniture tumbling slightly with every thrust he pounded into her needy core. With each time he bottomed out Lyney reached deeper, the tip of his cock effectively kissing her cervix as he molded her walls to his shape. He drank her every moan as if he worshiped all sounds she offered, his lips sucking on her tongue in such a lewd manner that he couldn't help but grin over how she squeezed him harder over it. 

"Hyaahhhh, Hinhey…" [F/N] attempted to moan his name out, her puffy lips parted as his own toyed with her tongue to his pleasure. 

He could feel the way she was milking him dry, her juices thoroughly coating his cock generously as her pussy practically praised and outright worshiped him. Her walls throbbed deliriously, sending him closer and closer to his edge as he fucked her through what he very well knew was her approaching orgasm. 

"Is my baby- Close?" He leaned back to speak, humming quietly while licking his own lips eagerly. He watched as she nodded her head quickly, her fingers combing through his hair slowly, deeply. Just how he loved it. "Here, cum for me will you? You can take me like this as you do, right baby?"

[F/N] bit her lip, nodding her head again. She watched how one of his hands left her hips, holding it up for her to take it. His girlfriend took it without thinking twice, their fingers lacing together before Lyney held them against his mirror, his pace quickening up. Once more he glued his lips to hers, never quite truly satisfied with her kisses just as much as he never quite got enough of her pussy. Her breath against him grew ragged, her moans growing ever louder, all while trying to suppress them in what he could only find the cutest whines. He bent her more, held her tighter, he pounded deeper into her. He could feel her moans vibrate against his mouth before she finally gasped, a high pitched sob being all she could muster before her inner walls violently spasmed around him, creaming his cock bountifully as she rode her high. Even still, just as he'd asked her to, Lyney continued to thrust, still as deeply albeit slower, letting her savor her release just as he quickly followed with his closing one. 

"Gyah, L-Lyney-!" [F/N] moaned against him, he in turn shushed her in understanding. "Mmm, t-to much!"

"I'm so close baby, so close…" He whispered, his thrusts a little less rhythmic as he tried to focus. His eyes opened to gaze deeply into hers, the sight of her red cheeks and unfocused eyes only edging him further deep into the abyss of pleasure. "Can you please take it just a little more? Just like this…”

“Mhm…” She eagerly nodded her head, the tears of overstimulation streaming down her face sending a long shiver down his spine. His free hand came to rest upon the side of her face, thumb clearing the tears away as his grip on her other hand tightened. “I-Inside, please.”

He bit his tongue gently as he smiled, nodding his head before pulling her head closer for a deep kiss. “Anything for my lovely lady.”

Against him she moaned, him in unison as he felt the knot deep inside himself finally snap. Lyney felt his eyes shut, a deep low grunt leaving his throat before he finally felt his release wash over him. He thrusted deeper still, his pace finally slowing down as thick ropes of seed flooded over [F/N]’s inner walls. Her womb was eager to receive the abundant load, being painted white from inside out as it overflowed whilst he still remained sheathed inside. Whilst their fingers were still locked she brought him closer, holding him tightly as her body shivered with the overstimulation. Lyney could feel his breath finally begin to slow down, a few final slow thrusts of his hips following as he moaned quietly, ensuring he was milked for all he was worth. He held his [F/N] close, as close as possible, their bodies finally relaxing as they rested atop his vanity, her body welcoming him closer as his seed leaked down and dropped onto the ground.

Even as she still regulated her breath, lips puffy and red and mascara slightly smudged from the sweat and tears, Lyney lunged forward, capturing her lips for the millionth time. Never satiated, like the greedy man he was at heart, he smiled against her as he enveloped her closer, relishing a moment longer. The silence that followed felt comforting, the two of them sighing in bliss as he felt her arms around his figure. 

“Sorry… It must’ve been uncomfortable to sit like that, on such a surface.” He stated, eyebrows furrowing softly as his thumbs cleared her smudged makeup as much as he could. Lyney dared not move, still not even wanting to pull out. It wasn’t as though he could anyway, for the way [F/N]’s legs captured him definitely sent a message for him to stay a little longer.

“Mhm, it’s fine… I enjoyed it all the same.” She smiled sheepishly, relishing in his soft touches as she in turn rearranged his side swept bangs. 

“I’m glad.” He sighed in relief, the pair too engrossed into one another to even notice how some bottles had tumbled over amidst their frolicking. “Still, next time I’ll be sure to make up for it, for all of it.”

“Lyney, truly it’s fine!” [F/N] laughed softly, finally opening her legs for him to move more freely. She watched in amusement how her boyfriend coughed softly upon noticing how heavy she leaked, rummaging through the room to find a towel he could dampen to help clean up. “Sorry… We might’ve taken too long, no?”

“Hey, if anything it’s my fault… It’s what I get for being so greedy.” He reassured her with a sincere smile, carefully helping her to clean up before dressing her back up. [F/N] watched as he fanned his face with his hand, the blush on his face still evident as she helped him dress up as well, a snicker escaping her pretty lips at the sight. 

“Well… I still… Very much enjoyed it.” [F/N] reiterated, her voice low as she helped him button up his undershirt. His smile was difficult to ignore, especially so as she helped him retrace the tear he would always paint on his right cheek. 

“...I did, too.” He pulled her closer by the waist, smiling in a devilish, albeit inoffensive manner. He pulled her closer, stealing a deeper kiss as he relished on the taste of her lips, hoping to steal some of her chapstick for himself so he could taste it all throughout his performance. As he pulled away, he whispered quietly to her, fingers playing with the end of her hair. “...Maybe next time we do this, I can have you turned to my mirror. The faces you make are simply delicious, my dear.”

The way [F/N]’s face turned to utter surprise was enough of a reaction, the magician following with a sneaky laugh as he pinched her behind as the cherry on top. In turn, his girlfriend gently slapped his arm, huffing as her cheeks turned bright red, his laughter becoming louder as a result.

“Lyney!” She groaned, nearly turning around from him in embarrassment.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry baby! Mostly.” He chuckled, embracing her before kissing her cheek with the usual level of endearment that was solely reserved for her. 

“Hmph…” She pouted, though both knew it wasn’t something to last long. “...Good luck on your show, honey.”

“After this? It’ll be the best show yet…” He in turn whispered, his forehead resting against her head as they quieted down. “I’ll see you after?”

“I’ll be waiting here.” [F/N] smiled softly, them embracing one another before finally deciding to part.

Well, Lyney had always been energetic in his performances, yet there seemed to be an improvement on that particular one. True to his word, that performance definitely did do amazingly well, becoming the talk of the following weeks.

All thanks to his lucky charm.

[versadies]

this time (alhaitham x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. this time (part two of next time)

ADDRESSED. alhaitham (w/ gn!reader)

STAMP. in which things have never been the same since your lover found you after you’ve been kidnapped, and tries to win your heart once more as well as for your forgiveness. (this is mostly on alhaitham’s pov after saving you)

CONTENT. angst/with-comfort, slight spoilers to sumeru archon quest (3.2), mentions of kidnapping, mentions of violence, reader now has a vision and is slightly traumatized, grammar errors, ooc alhaitham (only skimmed through his lore while writing this fic)

POST-SCRIPT. yipeeee it’s finally done !! special thanks to @crowbird who sent an ask about this fic, it’s acc what i was going for as well (but ive made reader suffered enough so i didnt go all out)

LINKS. masterlist \ taglist

How long has it been since Alhaitham has been waiting outside of Bimarstan? 

He couldn’t recall, but neither did he care about that. What he cares more is what’s happening inside the hospital where you’re currently treated.

As soon as Alhaitham’s done with his part on the mission, he didn’t waste any time to start looking for you, his heart beating faster than ever from his worries of what the Akademiya has done to you. 

Whatever they did, he hoped that you were okay. 

With the help of Cyno and some of his friends, he managed to find out that you’re located in the desert, but not in a state he had hoped he’d find you in. 

It took him two days until he finally found you in an abandoned hospital, only to see you standing in the middle of the room with a hollow look on your face, surrounded by fallen eremites and other people who are working for Azar–

Not to mention.. A vision in your hand, one that holds the symbol of anemo. 

What happened?

Alhaitham paid no mind to the unconscious bodies on the ground, his focus is on you – who remains unaware that you have other company besides your captors. 

“...( Name )?” He cautiously called out. 

You immediately turn around when you heard a familiar voice, only for your eyes to widen at the sight of your lover standing not too far away from you, his weapon in hand–

Oh gods, what have you done?

It begins to dawn on you when you realize what you just did, causing you to start breathing heavily. “I… I didn’t mean to–” You look down at your shaking hands with wide eyes, “I didn’t mean to knock them– th-they tried to take me away, to some… to some guy who goes by the Doctor and I-I was so scared, I was freaking out and, and one of them was about to hit me and suddenly everyone’s jus–” 

You find yourself falling onto your knees with a sob, the fear and anxiety you tried to hide for the past two days as you were pushed and dragged through the sand and heat slowly started to come out in the open. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” were all the words you could muster at the moment, not noticing how Alhaitham starts walking towards you.  

It was only when you felt something warm beginning to wrap around you when you realized your lover’s hugging you in a comfort embrace, causing you to let out a shaky gasp.

“I don’t care what you did to them,” Alhaitham tells you, his heart shattering at the sight of you being frightened with yourself, “I’m just glad you’re okay now. You’re safe, ( Name ).” 

He closes his eyes shut, not intending to let you go just yet. “I’m… I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for leaving you. I regretted leaving you out of the dark with what I was doing and… I just wanted to keep you safe, but it seems it only made things dangerous for you instead.” 

You couldn’t help but be taken back from how his words sounded so sincere, so genuine – you knew how your lover is with these kinds of things, so you knew just how much he means it when he apologized. 

You couldn’t help but break into tears. 

“It hurts so much…” You hiccuped, hugging him back as you sob. “I thought… I thought I did something wrong that made you–”

Your breath hitches when he holds onto you tighter. “This is never your fault. It’s mine alone for never considering how this would affect us badly. You’ve been nothing but an amazing person in my life and I took it for granted.” He said, angrier with his foolish self for making you feel this way for all this time. 

“I… When I found out that they took you, I felt like I.. I’ve...” He struggles to find the right words to tell you just how scared he was when he found out about you being held captive by the Akademiya. 

He relaxes when you start moving your arms around him. “I know..” You whispered reassuringly, as though you read his mind. “Just take me back, ‘Haitham.” 

–

“Mr. Alhaitham?” Alhaitham’s thoughts are cut away when he hears the familiar voice of the doctor who took charge of healing you, causing him to stand up when he sees him walking out from the door. 

“How’s ( Name )?” The scribe asks. 

“They’re doing well. They just need more food, water, and plenty of rest and they’ll be okay. Though, we need to keep them under our watch for the rest of the week to check up on their major injuries now and then.” Zakariya then let out a sigh. “I just can’t believe their captors are heartless enough to not feed them well, not to mention the injuries inflicted on them. It was fortunate enough that you’re able to find them before things could’ve gone worse for your lover.” 

Alhaitham’s heart feels broken once more when he hears about your condition, making him all the more angry that he wasn’t fast enough to find you (and the fact that Azar and his pathetic followers’ punishments aren’t enough). 

“May I visit them now?” He asks. 

The doctor nods in response. “I believe so. They were looking for you when they woke up.” 

That was enough for Alhaitham to immediately come inside the hospital (not without thanking Zakariya, of course) and visit you, bringing your favorite meal that he made beforehand as well as flowers. 

It reminded him of back when he was on his way to take you out on your first date together, with him always fixing his outfit (despite the fact that you’ve seen him wear it everyday) and checking if he has everything – as though he was a bit nervous. 

By the time he eventually arrives to where you are, you notice his presence immediately, causing you to turn away from the view of your window and look at your lover. 

The two of you stare at each other in silence, not knowing what to say. 

Alhaitham decides to break the silence. “...How are you?” 

“...Never been better, I suppose.” You respond quietly, looking down at your hands. “I mean, my lover’s finally talking to me after so long and I’m no longer blind and tied up for two days straight; not to mention how I didn’t kill anyone when I received my vision so… that’s good.” He winces from your words. 

You then look up to where he is. “I can’t… forgive you so easily for what you’ve done as much as it sounds selfish of me.” You confessed.

Alhaitham shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. I expected you to not forgive me straight away.” He says reassuringly. “All I ask is if you could give me a chance to make everything up. Let me make up for the time we lost.”

You frowned. “Then what? Will you suddenly get busy again and ignore me for the next few months? A year maybe?”

“I won’t repeat what happened last time.” He said. “Not when it almost cost me to lose you.” 

Your eyes soften. “I’m too scared to take the risk and experience the same thing all over again.” Deep down, you were touched when you heard from your nurse that your lover did everything he could to find you and get you back, as well as how he waited for a long long time until he was allowed to come inside the hospital and see you again – without reading a book even. 

But you knew that you can’t just let what he did slide so easily. 

“Trust me. Just one last time.” Alhaitham asks, almost in a desperate way. “If I mess up again, and I’ll make sure I won’t, then you can leave me.” He wanted to come closer to you, to sit down on the edge of the bed and place his hands on your wrapped hands in a reassuring way, but he didn’t want to overstep your boundaries. “If you still want to leave me without a chance, then that’s alright.”

You quietly think about what to do. As much as you’re heartbroken that your lover had ignored you for such a long time, you still unfortunately love that man, but you can’t forgive him just yet. 

You let out a sigh. “I’ll give you one month to make it all up to me, then I’ll decide if I leave.” You said, causing his shoulders to relax. 

“I won’t let you down, ( Name ).” He declares with confidence. 

You smile lightly, now noticing the things he’s been holding throughout the whole conversation. “You do know that giving me my favorite food and my favorite flowers today isn’t enough to make me forgive you, right?” 

Alhaitham hums. “I’m aware. I’m guessing that the hospital didn’t give you any food that you’re craving, so I thought about making it for you before I visit.” 

You know he was right, although the hospital did give you food to eat, it didn’t match the sweet taste of the ones you’ve been longing to eat, such as the foods that your lover always cooks for you whenever he can just for you. 

“Pretty sure they cooked better than you though.” You joked. 

His lips slightly move upward. “Oh? Won’t you try and see if you’re right then?” 

You scoot over a little, a small invitation for him to finally come up to you. “Only if you hand-feed me.” You said, thinking he’d refuse and make you eat it yourself.

To your surprise however, you underestimated just how much that man loves you. 

“If that’s what you wish then.” Without hesitation, he instantly comes up to your bed and sits down next to you, putting your flowers next to your bed and unpacked your meal (you didn’t bother to point out how he looked so eager to do so). 

As you eat your meal that he made, you can’t help but reminisce about the times when he used to do this to you. Particularly when you get sick and he has to take care of you, something that he always reassures you that he’s completely okay with it and willing to do it as long as it’s for you. 

“I’ll have to cook meals for you everyday then if it makes you that happy.” He suddenly says as he feeds you, making you realize that you’ve been smiling the entire time. “What do you say about curry shrimp tomorrow when I visit here?” 

“You’re going to visit here again?” You ask in a surprised tone. “Don’t you have things to do with the Akademiya?” 

“Even in different situations, I’d still put everything down just to take care of you.” Alhaitham explains. “Don’t worry about my duties in the Akademiya, I’m sure they’ll be doing alright without my presence for a while.” 

You hummed. “Alright then.” 

–

Alhaitham is one dedicated man, you’d admit. 

Everyday, he’d always come and visit you with a meal in hand, as well as things that could make you no longer be bored from lying down on the hospital bed all day. On some days, the two of you would play TCG (with Cyno, Kaveh and Tighnari whenever they visit you), read books together silently, listen to music together with his music player that he personally made when he first became the scribe, and even take a stroll around the street together. 

You’re still reluctant with his company, but nevertheless, you didn’t feel uncomfortable from it. 

Of course, there were other things you’d do whenever Alhaitham is away. Sometimes you’d be found helping the doctors and nurses taking care of the patients, taking care of all the flowers he gifted you, and so on. 

Your injuries were slowly getting better, much to everyone’s relief, and you were no longer as shaken up as before from the incident that happened on the day Alhaitham found you.

Not that he asked you about it. Now that you think about it, not a single person dared to ask what happened to you during your kidnapping, nor did anyone ask how you got your anemo vision, excluding some clueless people who were unaware of what happened to you. 

Cyno did a good job in making sure that it looked like the eremites and Azar’s subordinates were ambushed by him and Alhaitham and not you, not wanting you to get in trouble for simply defending yourself from your captors. You’re grateful that he never questioned you about what happened.

It was hard to get used to the vision that reminded you of what happened, but with your friends’ help, you managed to slowly live with it as well as learn how to use it to protect yourself better. 

By the time you were released from the hospital, you’re surprised that Alhaitham’s still continuing to do the same thing he’s been doing for the past week. 

During your meals, it was Alhaitham who’s been doing the cooking instead of you, with Kaveh whining about why he doesn’t get the same treatment. He also made sure to always kiss you goodbye before he sets off to tend to his duties in the Akademiya, something that you missed for so long. 

For someone who has an unpredictable schedule, he always makes sure to make time for you, for what is freedom if he can’t enjoy it without you?

Slowly and surely, you begin to forgive him and find yourself smiling every now and then.

Sure, he’d sometimes come back home late, but it was never like last time. Sure, he’d sometimes be too focused on his work in his office, but it was never like last time. Unlike last time, you finally feel like you’re living with a lover and not a stranger. 

Whenever you could, the two of you would go out in the woods and train your skills with your vision, something you’re grateful for since using a vision isn’t as easy as you thought it would be. 

The kidnapping still haunted you with nightmares that made you lose sleep as well as some things that reminded you of it, but with Alhaitham, you feel less scared and more comforted from him, who always made sure to stay by your side and be with you when you needed it. 

He’s more considerate than before, you’d admit.

Of course, you made sure to show your gratitude by visiting Alhaitham in his office in the Akademiya like you usually did before, secretly surprised with how he’s always found in his office despite the fact that he’s usually everywhere but there (it’s as if he’s been anticipating you to visit him), and give him a meal that you made before going your way to the Grand Bazaar. 

Until one day, Alhaitham requested you something. 

“When you come and visit me at the Akademiya…” You slowly waited for him to tell you to not come there, only for your eyes to widen at his next words. “...Do make sure to bring two meals so we can eat together.”

You processed what he just said to you. “You mean… eat our meals together? You and me?”

He nodded in response, looking as though he’s unbothered with what he said. “Who else if not you?”

You try to hide your smile before obliging his request. “I’ll keep it in mind then.”

Since then, you find yourself eating your meal with your lover whenever you come and visit. 

You never dared to point out how his lunchbox is always clean and empty whenever he’s done with it.

Sometimes if time allows it, he’d also visit the Grand Bazaar to watch you perform on stage with Nilou, who’s shocked to see the scribe himself – especially with a fascinated look on his face as he watches you perform.

After your performance, Nilou couldn’t help but carefully ask him about his presence in a place such as the Grand Bazaar. 

The man could only huff. “Am I not allowed to support my lover?” He comments. “Don’t mind my presence and go enjoy what you love just like what I’m doing right now.” 

“Watching your lover?” She questioned quietly, looking back at where you are, who’s currently helping one of your colleagues with another task. “You must really love ( Name ), huh?” 

“Not just love.” He clarifies, crossing his arms. “They’re my freedom and eternal oasis.” 

Nilou feels touched by the scribe’s words. She could see now why you’re so willing to give him another chance. 

“( Name ) feels the same way, if you’re wondering.” She said with a soft smile. “I hope you’ll continue to make them happy like they are now. It’s been so long since the Grand Bazaar’s last seen ( Name ) being this happy.”  

“I’ll make sure of that.” Alhaitham assures the woman, his eyes softening at the sounds of you laughing at whatever your colleague told you. “I’ll make sure they’ll be happy, even if we’re no longer together like now.” 

Even when you’re still hesitant to forgive him in fear that it’ll happen again, Alhaitham is willing to wait for you and prove to you that he won’t do the same thing ever again no matter how long it takes.

Just like how you waited for him to come home when he was nothing but distant, he’s willing to wait for you the same way.

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @nejibot @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @aintafraidtolove

[yxami]

hi yami I’m not sure if you’ve done this but what about goth Yandere? They such a cool style and always been casted out by society only to meet reader that accepts him and loves him and now goth Yandere sends them secret love letters that r creepy (dildos and vibrators that they used to show their devotion but if this is too much u can ignore that part) carving readers name into his arm

hope you like this!! I’m trying to get to requests that I feel like I can write abt easily

desc: goth yandere x gn reader, mentions of bullying, yandere behaviors/themes, self harming by the carving your name into his arm, general creepy obsession/stalking habits, he’s a crazy and manipulative one just in a sneaky way ^_^

Your fingers wrap around your locker’s handle, a pink letter closed with a red heart sticker is the first thing you lay your eyes on. Another one? Seriously, you’ve gotten so many of these letters by your new friend it makes you wonder what they’re even supposed to mean.

You recently befriended an outcast, a lonely guy that was paired up with you for a project, you bonded well with him and found out the two of you have similar music tastes but other than that you had nothing in common.

You were outgoing, funny and he seemed to be the opposite, quiet and reserved, the type to laugh at someone’s jokes but not make one. Even if you don’t have similar hobbies you tried to have conversations with him since he looked cool, you really liked his style which you complimented on, making him blush without fail each time.

And you knew about his reputation, being a creep and someone that you should be avoiding, but you wanted to give him a chance, you’ve set up a goal to be less close minded and stop caring about what people think, and that’s gained you more friends than you’ve ever had usually.

Picking up the letter with your thumb and pointer, you open it up, finding a matching pink paper inside, clearly dyed with some sort of natural thing, possibly roses?

‘I wanted to thank you again for coming over yesterday, I enjoyed our time together, I’m hoping you’d like to hangout again? Perhaps today? If you want, I get it if you’re busy, but I really want to continue the game we were playing. I made sure to save our progress and write down what quests we need to do next!!“

You’ve always questioned why he doesn’t just text you, you gave him your number not too long ago anyways. You don’t want to crush his spirit so you don’t ask him, you wouldn’t want to upset him since he already seemed sensitive to things.

“Did you like my letter? I dyed the paper pink with some flowers that I grew in my backyard” Your new friend pops up, making you jump in one place as your eyes glance at him, another stylish black outfit with his usual under the eye black eyeshadow, you notice the fake tattoos he doodled on his hands when he hands you another gift.

“Open this when you’re with me at lunch, it’s a little embarrassing..” He plays with his snake bite piercings as he chews on his lip, brushing raven hair out of his face to look at you and observe your expression.

“Thank you, I’m guessing your love language must be gift giving huh?” You say with a small grin, putting the small gift box in your locker, happy it fit perfectly since it seemed to carry a decent amount of things based on the weight.

“Y-yeah.. it is” He mumbles, his face feeling hot as he remembers what was in the box, he’s squirming in place just thinking about your reaction to it, he’s excited to see you, even more now because of it.

The two of you walk to class and the time passes all too fast when you’re day dreaming about other things, you make sure not to forget your present as you head to the enormous courtyard, finding the usual tree the two of you sat under.

Away from others, something he immensely enjoyed, he hated that you had other friends that weren’t him but he tried to not act out in-front of you, fearing you’d hate him if you saw his true behavior.

“Okay..! Open it now” He crossed his legs, sitting down in-front of you, eager as his eyes trail all over your face, wanting to see if you’d enjoy it.

You lift the box’s top to see a few items, items you never expected to be gifted. The box contained a few sex toys, wrapped up like a normal gift, some dildos and two vibrators, all differently assorted by their colors. You can tell he put some thought to the gift, having included lube and condoms.

“Oh- um.. thank you. I really didn’t expect this” You awkwardly laugh, not sure how to react, could you even express how odd this was? To be given toys when the two of you aren’t even together? God this was so painfully awkward, how could you pretend to express gratitude?

“Do you like it? Please say that you do” He leans towards you, eyes flying over his gift to make sure everything was exactly how he intended. He fixed his posture and made eye contact with you, wondering if you liked it. Judging by your reaction he was really nervous. He should’ve just waited longer, maybe this was too soon, what if you hated it? Or thought he was a creep and would leave him like everyone else has?

“It’s.. nice!! It’s really nice, thank you, I’ll um- save that for later” You have a wobbly smile on your face, terrible at lying as you fix the top back on, placing it beside you. You can tell he isn’t convinced.

“Is it not good enough? I’m sorry, I can take it back, you don’t have to pretend” His bottom lips quivers as his eyes become glassy, he can feel his throat clenching as he tries to swallow an invisible lump of embarrassment and shame.

“N-no! It’s great! It’s really cool! I just didn’t think it was something like this. I really appreciate it, I was.. thinking about buying some lately anyways, you practically read my mind” You spill the spiel that you think someone would say when they’re genuinely happy with a gift.

“R- really?” He looks up, no longer staring at the ground, his cheeks and nose were flushed by him on the brink of tears, he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, smudging his eyeshadow slightly. He hugs you, content that you enjoyed it. He was so worried that you’d hate it and hate him too!!

You think the letters and gifts got creepier and creepier because of that situation. You tell yourself that you shouldn’t have tolerated and spoiled him for his odd habits, but ultimately pity almost always took over and made you feed into his delusions.

It’s probably why something even stranger happened three weeks later.

“Hey..! I have a present, well.. not an actual present but it’s something for you” He sputters out his words, pulling on his snakebites, trying to think of the right words.

“Sure, where is it?” You say, clueless of what other gift he might give you. The last times it’s been toys, a weird resembling homemade plushie of him and other things you can’t quite remember.

“Well.. it’s not done yet but I’ll be able to show you it tonight” He seems jittery, ecstatic to show you what he has for you. “I’ll show you when I come over today!”

The day passes rather regularly, enough as it can be with a quiet puppy following you around, always trying to have your attention but being too shy to do anything obvious.

Before he went over your house he was finishing up his art. He grabbed his favorite knife and moved his arm to lay on the table, poking the sharp metal into his arm to carve the last letter in his skin, making sure it pierced deep in order for it to scar. He’s been wearing long sleeves for about 3 weeks to hide his little project.

He quickly grabbed his usual cleaning supplies, making sure it was wrapped up for a bit. He’s picked up the habit on knowing how to clean up deep punctures in the skin, just so he didn’t have to explain to a doctor that he was purposefully stabbing himself for his crush.

Once he finished cleaning his wound, he threw away the wrappers and garbage on his desk, not wanting his mother to snoop and find used first aid supplies. She’d probably worry too much about him, not understanding his obsession with you.

As he leaves his house he says his goodbyes, making sure to inform her that he was visiting you again. He ran his way to your house, eager to see you.

“Hey, ready to play some games?” You smile at his presence, noticing him holding his arm as if sore, he was also somewhat sweaty but you don’t question it and just invite him like usual.

“Mhm!” He happily skips inside, seemingly on top of the moon as he sits down, getting everything ready like usual. You make your way to the kitchen, deciding to make some tea, you call out to him if he’d like some. “Yeah, can you add sugar?” He peeks over the couch, looking at you, or more like admiring if you focused enough.

You nod and bring the teas on a ceramic tray you recently bought, cherry blossoms painted throughout. You set it down, noticing that he seemed out of it, or maybe just anxious, you haven’t gotten a full grasp on what certain faces meant on him.

“…I wanted to show you the gift, um.. I hope you really like it” He weakly smiles, pinching on his shirt’s sleeve before showing you his arm. The left forearm that contained a healed scar fading into an unhealed area. You were so focused on the wound it took you a minute to realize it was your name. It was carved into his skin, he purposefully did this?

“Do you like it? It took me awhile and it hurt at first but I got used to it. I even added a little heart at the end” His voice was softer than usual, sweetly looking up at you, immediately uneasy by your expression that sat with disbelief.

“Please say something? Do you not like it? Is it because it wasn’t your full name? I knew I should’ve done it but I was worried that I would run out of space” His voice becomes whiny, frowning as he covers up his arm. He starts to scratch at it, a new bad habit he’s developed but it hasn’t made his wound bleed, yet.

“It’s perfect! I love it, I was just speechless. Did you really do it yourself? I thought for a moment it was a tattoo” You were desperate to keep quiet but the need to make him feel better eventually won. You knew this bad, that he was crazy, everything about this situation made your body pump with adrenaline to run but you stayed put.

You just stood and soothed him with your hands in his hair, trying to comfort his worries. You weren’t sure why, but nobody else has been here for him so of course he’s clinging on to you. Maybe you can convince him to stop doing these things?

You just have to stick around a little while longer and fix him, that’s possible right?

[1-800-c3dr1c]

Hi, I saw that you have open requests. could you write a story about Neuvilette and his partner where Neuvilette learns that the traveler told his partner that he is a dragon. but the reader had something to do, so she would leave Fontaine for a few days. on the other hand, Neuvilette would think that this is why she does not want to see him, because she has been hiding from him until now, and of course because of this there would be a hell of a storm in Fontain. i like angst but with a happy ending. Thank you I love you. 🥺👉👈

LONELINESS. neuvilette angst to fluff oneshot. female reader. <3 SPOILERS FOR THE 4.1 ARCHON QUEST. DO PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

requests are: open! please look at the pinned post for characters i will write for. <3 let me know if you’d like to be in my tag list for whenever i post anything related to neuvilette under this post as well, or in my inbox!

OH MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING NEUVILETTE, I LITERALLY LOVE THIS MAN AND I HOPE THAT YOU LIKE THIS!! <3

“he’s a dragon.” were most certainly not the first words you’d expected the traveler to utter when you two met after they had come back from the fortress of meropide. you had stared at them, baffled, asked them to repeat what they had told you despite not even hearing yourself speak. and they did.

“he’s a dragon.” and that’s when it clicked. your partner, the iudex of fontaine, was the hydro dragon. how had you not realized this sooner? you had caught little bits of his grief even when he never explicitly stated it, and when you did it just so happened to rain. but you didn’t want to believe it at first.

“you’re lying.” you didn’t even hear yourself contradicting them, the words just sputtered out absently, as if you had no idea what you were doing. which you didn’t.

“i’m sorry,” the traveler just shook their head, knowing they couldn’t exactly get you to see through your own fantasies of not recognizing the truth. they knew you’d come to your senses soon, but you needed to be left alone.

and left alone you had been. they had walked away, leaving you to stare after them, attempting to collect your thoughts.

your partner was the hydro dragon. it was such an unfathomable thought, but the more you thought about it, the more likely it was. and yet, time was cruel.

you could not ask him about it now, no. you had a mission outside of fontaine, and you knew you’d be gone for a few days. you had been planing to tell neuvilette this, but you had never gotten a chance. today was your last day in fontaine, and you would leave in two hours.

you knew that he would not be back in less than two hours. despite that, you waited until the very last moment for him to come home, for you to be able to tell him what you knew.

but you simply wouldn’t, or rather, couldn’t. when the time came, you simply took your bag, walked off, and didn’t look back.

neuvilette had thought differently. he had chosen to take a few days off of work after the traveler had told him they had accidentally let it slip to his partner that he was the hydro dragon. ever since then, he hadn’t even seen her. grief-stricken and thinking that she hated him with her entire being for hiding such a big secret, it was constantly raining in fontaine. people were no longer walking the streets, and fontaine was neatly flooded in itself.

the traveler had tried to calm him down, but it had been no use. he actually started crying. not just the feeling of grief, but actually tears rolled down his cheeks. hence why, he stayed in his office all day, allowing little to nobody in except for the traveler and a few select melusines.

“she hates me,” he murmured to himself, the thought having been running through his head for many days now. ever since she left, that’s all that has been on the poor iudex’s mind. “she hates me.” he repeated, finding that it may just end up being the truth, no matter how much he didn’t want to believe it.

until you had walked into his office, startled to see that his face was tear-stained. you quickly walked over to him, but he hadn’t even registered that you had walked in yet.

“neuvilette?” you whispered his name, standing right beside him. this shocked him out of his thoughts, and he turned to you.

“y/n.” he spoke your name, trying to clear his throat. “where.. did you go?” he sounded so quiet, so hurt.

“i’m sorry. i had to do something outside of fontaine, love. but i’m back now.” you told him softly.

love. that nickname instantly brightened his mood, before it dampened again. you don’t hate me, right? because.. because i’m.. the hydro dragon.” the last two words you could barely hear, but you understood.

“so that’s why it’s been raining so much. is that what you thought? oh, neuvilette.. i could never hate you.” you kissed his cheek, and he pulled you close, hiding his face in your shoulder.

“thank you. for not hating me. i love you so much.” he murmured. “so, so much.”

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Sugar, Pretty Baby...

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary:After a successful date at the movies, Eddie takes you back to his trailer where things take an unexpected, but not unwelcome turn I suck at summaries oh my goddd 

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Making Out, Thigh Riding, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (F Receiving), Missionary Position, Declarations of Love, If i’m missing anything feel free to shoot me a message so I can tag it.

Word Count:2,117 (oops, this one runs a little long I hope you don’t mind)

Authour’s Note: This is sort of a part 2 to From Me to You but you don’t necessarily have to read that to follow this. I was inspired/gently encouraged by @billybluboy to write a part 2 that was absolutely filthy and I think I accomplished that. 

Masterlist

True to his word, Eddie picked you up at 7pm on the dot, ready for your movie date. He was a true gentleman through and through, although you already knew that. Holding your hand, and intertwining his fingers with yours, swinging your joined hands between the two of you whilst you walked.

And now after watching the movie, you were sitting in his van as he drove you back to his trailer.

"I had a great time today, thank you for agreeing to go out with me” he chuckles nervously.

“I had a great time too, Ed” you beam back at him.

He gets out his van and quickly rushes around to the passenger’s seat door to open it for you.

“Ever the gentleman..” you giggle as you make your way out of his van.

Taking your hand in his, he leads you to his trailer.

“Wayne’s working nights, so it’s just us tonight.” He says, pushing through the door.

“Oh, really?” you say with a hopeful look in your eyes “Just us?”

“Yup..nobody else around..just me..and you” he says lowly his brown eyes flicking down to your lips.

Taking your opportunity, you lean up,with your hands tenderly holding his face, and press your lips to his in a sweet kiss. His lips are chapped and taste slightly sweet, a reminder of the popcorn you’d shared on your date.

“I’d been wanting to do that all evening” you admit shyly.

His lips are back on your in an instant, one of his large hands splayed holding your hips, the other cupping your cheek to bring you closer to him. His tongue sweeps across your lower lip, before slipping in and deepening the kiss, desperate to taste you.

He walks you back to the couch in the living room, before sitting down. You take the initiative to straddle his spread thighs, and continue to kiss him. Your lips are eager to be on back on his. Your kisses begin to trail their way from his lips down, burying your head in the crook of his neck whilst your lips work to leave open-mouthed kisses on the exposed skin, and suck claiming bruises on his throat.

Feeling you leave hickeys on his neck gave Eddie a strange sense of pride. He was always going to be yours, no questions asked, but now he had a reminder of how much he meant to you.

Whilst he indulged you in your quest to suck dark bruises into his skin, Eddie had his own ideas. His large ring-adorned fingers found themselves shamelessly gripping onto the soft flesh exposed by your short skirt. He wonders if you chose this short skirt knowing that this would be how you two were going to end up? 

Your hips are rolling themselves against his lap, and underneath the dark denim of his jeans, he feels his cock stirring, beginning to press against the seams of his boxers.

Smirking against his neck you pull away, and look at him. His brown eyes look to you with lust and a flush is creeping across his features. 

“Eddie, are you hard?” you gently tease.

“Well, what did you expect? I’ve got a pretty girl sitting in my lap, and she’s kissing me like it’s her favourite thing to do” he lightly chuckles.

“That’s because it is my favourite thing to do. You wanna do something about it?”

“Not yet, Sweetheart..I’m kind of enjoying just seeing you sitting so pretty in my lap like that.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t what you were expecting to hear. Most guys were all too ready to get straight to the sex, but this admission from Eddie made your heart swell with adoration for him. Even in this increasingly sexual situation, he still found time to be the sweet Eddie that you knew him to be.

"Sit up a moment, Sugar' Eddie asks, his hands still holding their place on your hips. "Want you to rock against my thigh just a little" He flashes you a cheeky grin.

You throw each of your legs over his thigh and begin rocking yourself over the rough denim of his jeans. His fingers are playing along the hem of your skirt, and his eyes are locked on yours as you nod your head, giving him the go-ahead to flip your skirt up. His eyes glaze over upon seeing the growing wet patch on your panties. The combined feeling of your wet panties, and his jeans are creating the most delicious friction as you shamelessly grind your hips over his thigh.  

However much Eddie was enjoying watching you roll your hips on his thigh, he needed to see you. All of you.

“Sugar, I wanna see you…I wanna see my pretty baby..” he mumbles out, as his lips are leaving trailing kisses all over your neck.

“Only if I get to see you too, Handsome” you wink teasingly.

“Fuck… Yeah..okay, okay, Sweets. Give me a moment.” 

You swing off his thigh, and move to stand up. You watch as he all too quickly tugs his shirt over his head, and works on unbuttoning his jeans, and hooking his fingers to pull his boxers and jeans down in one quick motion.

You use this time to admire him in all his naked glory, eyes taking in the details of each of his tattoos. Having only ever fantasised about this moment, you want to savour every second of it.

“I’m feeling a little left out here, Sweets..Will you let me see all of you?” he says, his eyes looking over you, his hand dropping down to lazily tug at his hard cock.

You are quick to slip your panties down your legs, along with your skirt. Gripping the hem of your shirt in crossed hands you pull the shirt up and over your head. Sneaking your hand behind your back, your fingers make quick work of popping the clasp of your bra before taking it off.

Eddie takes you by your hand as he motions for you to lay down on the couch. You open up your legs, to give him space to get comfortable between your thighs. However, what you weren’t expecting was for him to settle between your thighs, with his face so close to your wet centre.

“Can I taste you, Sugar?” Eddie asks, his voice taking on a seductive tone.

You nod your head, not confident in your own voice at this moment.

His tongue darts out the wet his lips, before he moves in closer, taking one long firm swipe through your folds, the tip of his tongue coming up to flick over your clit. His tongue swirls around your clit a few times, before he sucks it between his plump pink lips, causing your hands to reach down to tangle in his mess of hair, needing something to keep you grounded.

“Can you take one of my fingers, Sweets?” he mumbles against your wet heat.

“Mhmm” you nod, your eyes closed, feeling too blissed out to form any kind of coherent sentence.

He slowly works one of his long fingers inside you, whilst his tongue is drawing lazy patterns over your clit. His fingers are working in and out of you, curling themselves upwards in a way that has you moaning a little more louder than before, letting him know that he’s found your spot. He slips one more of his fingers inside you, and continues on his mission to get you off. His other hand is splayed on your lower stomach, keeping you right where you are, and adding a gentle pressure, the chill of his clunky metal rings against the warmth of your skin is a welcomed sensation. 

 You can feel him grinning against you, as his tongue and fingers continued fucking you.

The ever increasing knot tying itself together in the pit of your stomach threatening to snap at any moment. The only sounds in the otherwise quiet trailer are your high pitched moans and the obscene sounds of Eddie slurping up your sweet juices like he needed it to survive.

“Come on, Sweets, you’re close..Can feel how tight you're squeezing on my fingers..She wants to come for me..” 

It didn’t take very much more until the knot in the pit of your stomach snapped and you were thrashing out your release against Eddie’s face.

As you slowly come down from your high, you look down between your thighs where Eddie is unashamedly sucking his fingers into his mouth, cleaning off your wetness.

“mmm..Tastes so sweet, baby” his teeth shining with a wide grin.

‘You’re unbelievable, Eddie Muson.” you laugh.

“Well thank you, I do try.” he says smugly. “I’ve gotta be inside you now babe, I’m so hard, it’s killing me” he admits, his tone becoming more desperate.

“Well, what are you waiting for, prettyboy?” Eddie’s face flushes at your gentle teasing nickname. The sudden realisation that, oh, he liked being your prettyboy, hitting him hard.

Reaching down to his discarded jeans, he rifles through his pockets until he finds a condom.

“Were you hoping to get lucky tonight?”not being able to resist the urge to tease him once more.

“A guy can only hope, right?” he smirks, tearing open the condom and rolling down his length.

Holding his hand on one of your hips, he slowly guides himself inch by inch inside your hot wet cunt, giving you time to adjust to his size.

“You okay?” he checks in with you.

“Y-yeah feels good, Ed…Keep going..Please..” you whine.

He keeps sliding into you until he's all the way inside you.

"You still good, Sugar?" his brown eyes looking down at you with love.

“Yeah.. I-I’m still good, Ed” 

The stretch of his thick cock so deep inside you feels so good. 

His hips pull back almost all the way before they thrust forward to meet your hips. He keeps the first few rolls of his hips gentle, almost as he’s frightened that you might break. Then he feels the heels of your feet digging into his backside and your arms holding tight around him, with your fingernails digging into the skin of his back. 

Leaning your head up, you take his earlobe between your teeth and tug gently before whispering in his ear.

“Want it harder, big boy”

He swears his mind completely blanks for a moment, before his hips are snapping into action, thrusting into you deep and hard. The sounds of skin hitting skin and your combined moans echoing off the trailer walls.

He’s pounding into you hard, everytime hitting that spot inside you that has you clenching around him in pleasure.

“Fuck…Sweetheart…You feel so fucking good” he grunts out, punctuating his words with harsh thrusts.

Your chest is rising and falling with heavy breaths, and your eyes are glossy from just how good he’s making you feel.

“Swear this sweet cunt was just made for me”  his hips continue to thrust deep into you.

He reaches his hand down, using his skilled guitarists fingers to play with your clit. He’s rubbing over your sensitive nub in quick tight circles, and you can feel your orgasm drawing nearer. 

“Kiss me..Ed..please..” you voice whines out desperately.

He leans his head down to capture your lips in a filthy clash of tongues, swallowing your moans. 

“Fuck…I love you…Fuck.” He rasps out.

His fingers find your clit once more, as he rubs it in tighter circles.

“You close Sweets? You gonna come for me?” 

All you can do at this point is nod, no other thoughts in your brain apart from your Eddie.

He rolls his hips a few more times and passes his fingers over your sensitive clit and that’s all it takes before your body tenses and your pussy squeezes tightly around him with your orgasm. 

That’s what does it for Eddie, the feeling of your hot pulsing cunt squeezing him, hips stilling whilst  he spills his release into the condom. 

He halts for a moment, still inside you, to lean down to kiss you once more in a softer, more gentle kiss.

“I meant it..y’know…” he says “I do love you.” 

“Eddie…” you say sweetly.

“Now, I know we’ve technically only been on one date, but we’ve known each other for so long, I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you ever since I’ve known you.” he rambles.

You silence his rambles with a press of your lips to his.

“Good, because I love you too” you smile back at him.

His heart swells. It may have been an unconventional first date, but Eddie’s sure he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[itsphoenix0724]

If it hasn’t been requested can you do Azriel with peony, perhaps a masquerade where he meets someone of another courts nobility (perhaps she’s been hidden away) the mating bond snaps and he goes on a quest to learn who she is?

Peony (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.2k

❀° Event Masterlist ❀°

A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for participating in my writing event! I'm really sorry it took so long to write I was very sick, but I hope everyone thinks it was worth the wait! I apologize if it's not the best it was written mostly in a fever-filled haze. Keep a look out for more stuff soon, and thank you all so much for your patience <3

You absolutely despised balls. Although, this was officially the first ball you’d actually been allowed to attend. You loved your court and your people wholeheartedly, but some of its traditions were ludicrously outdated. 

As tradition, you weren’t allowed into society until you were seventy-five. So until now, you had not been allowed at any court relations, balls, or celebrations. Being a Lady in the Spring Court wasn’t always the most exciting life. 

Applying one final coat of stain to your lips, you looked over yourself in the mirror. You had chosen a flowy gown in Spring’s signature pink, with falling petals cascading down the dress, and jewel-encrusted flowers had been woven through your hair. You hear a small rasping as you turn and look to see your brother standing in the doorway. 

“You look beautiful.” Tamlin steps into the room. He holds a small box in his hands and sends you a smile that you can see in the mirror. “It’s alright if you’re nervous.” You glare at your brother as he moves closer lifting a beautiful necklace out of the box in his hands. As Tamlin clasps the jewels around your neck, you move your hair out of the way. 

“I’m not nervous.” you admonish, Tamlin tips his head even though you can tell he doesn’t believe you.  The necklace is made of heavy pink sapphires, and you recognize it as one of the pieces from your mother's collection. You whip your head around at your brother who is still giving you a knowing look at your recollection. 

“She would’ve wanted you to have it, plus it matches your dress.” You laugh even though your eyes shine at the mention of your mother. Tamiln holds you at arm's length and looks over you once. “Be brave. Stay close to Luicen tonight. He’ll be here to pick you up shortly” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and leaves the room. 

You secure the mask on your face and wait for Lucien to knock on your door. He arrives a few moments later dressed for the ball with a fox mask on his face and a matching grin on his lips. 

“Well, well, what do we have here? I truly believe I’m in the wrong room. The Lady of Spring is usually covered in mud and smells like a horse,” he looks around as if he’s lost and you can see him barely containing a laugh. Still, he offers you an arm and you take it, but not before smacking him on the shoulder. 

Lucien escorts you down to the ballroom and all of a sudden the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You catch sight of all the faelights in the room barely flickering for a second. Your companion doesn’t seem to sense anything, so you allow the courtier to continue to escort you into the ballroom. 

The first thing you notice is the sheer amount of people packed into the room. 

You’ve never been in a room with this many people before.

Lucien must notice the way your feet seem stuck to the floor. It’s almost like you’ve stepped into quicksand, the more you try to move forward the more you remain rooted to the floor. He waits patiently, rubbing soothing circles into the crook of your arm until you’re ready to advance further. 

“You can do this,” Lucien murmurs as you collect yourself before nodding and allowing him to lead you into the room. Two of the servants throw the doors into the ballroom open, and the sound hits you in the chest like a lightning strike. The notes of pianos and strings ricochet off of the opulent walls of the ballroom, and your heart matches the pace of the music. 

You want nothing more at that moment than to dance. 

Lucien, the good friend he is, senses your desire and takes you for a turn around the dance floor. Sweeping you into the thrall of the party, you and Lucien dance the night away. 

Although, you’ve had the most peculiar feeling all night. 

Something is watching you. Something is following you. You can sense it. A strange cold drift almost haunts you all night. It’s not a particularly bad thing. A tug on your wrist to avoid bumping into a waiter, an ever so slight lift of your skirts so you don’t trip on the dance floor, and a cool brush against the back of your neck when you get too hot. 

You think you can almost see it every once in a while, but all it is is a faint flickering of darkness that you chalk up to a trick of the candlelight. 

Eventually, you feel the flush start to creep up your cheeks and the heaving in your chest tells you that you need air before you collapse. You excuse yourself from Lucien and escape the ballroom to get some air outside. 

The strange feeling even seems to encourage this, almost tugging you into the starlit expanse of the gardens.

Away from the light, you can see it now, the dark tendril of smoke that’s been with you all night. It curls around your wrist like a snake and when you reach your other hand out to touch it leans into your touch like a cat. 

However, a moment later, it snaps away from you racing into the garden’s maze. 

You run after it, sprinting into the darkness to follow the shadow as it winds its way through the maze of hedges. It seems to have a clear destination in mind, never once stopping to consider a direction.

You’re out of breath and somewhere along the way you’ve abandoned your shoes to match the relentless pace, but you’re determined to see this through. 

It rounds one more corner when you see him standing in the maze’s center. 

When you crash into the middle his head snaps up to look at you. You’re panting, barefoot, and the bottom of your dress is completely caked with mud. You look after the shadow who curls around the man’s ear in a way that resembles whispering. From behind the black mask the male wears hazel eyes meet yours. Under the intensity of his gaze, you feel like you’ve been cornered by an apex predator. As the rest of the garden is blanketed in total darkness, more shadows rush around your feet. The male steps forward, heavy boots dragging on the gravel. They’re so at odds with the dress shoes the males of the Spring Court usually prefer. You’re entranced by the hand that reaches out to grab your own. 

He draws your hand to his lips and presses a warm kiss to the back of your knuckles. Heat rushes up the back of your spine, and that’s when you feel the golden thread snap into your soul. The male stumbles back from you, green-gold eyes widening in shock, as you feel a burst of shock from low in your chest. 

It is even more confusing when you realize the shock doesn’t even belong to you- it belongs to him. 

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, when you hear a call of your name followed by heavy footsteps. Just as Lucien and Tamlin round the corner to the center of the maze the male in front of you, your mate, has disappeared into the darkness. Dissolved like he wasn’t even standing there in the first place. 

“Sister! There you are,” Tamlin stands in front of you and grabs you by the shoulders shaking you back into your body. “Why are you out here? What happened to your dress? It's covered in mud!” He searches your eyes for an answer you’re in too much shock to give. 

“We found your shoes in the garden,” Lucien adds looking unimpressed at your bare feet. “I know you don’t quite have a grasp on ball etiquette yet, but running around barefoot usually isn't in the realm of appropriate.” 

“I was following a shadow! It led me here and there was a male-he disappeared right before you got here, and he-” You rub the place in your chest, the golden string still buzzing with life. The only proof that this wasn’t some figment of your imagination. Lucien and Tamlin exchange a look with each other before both of their heads turn to you. 

“Sister, there’s no one here. Perhaps you’ve caught a chill, or maybe all the excitement is overwhelming you. Let's get you to bed,” Tamlin loops your arm through his as he attempts to lead you back inside. 

“Tamlin, I am not crazy!” You plant your feet on the ground resisting the pull of your brother. 

“No”, Lucien adds holding up your shoes in one hand, “You’re just chasing shadows barefoot through the garden and talking to disappearing men.” Tamlin shoots Lucien a pointed look as he continues to lead you back to the manor. 

“Come on, we’re going inside.” with one final pull you follow your brother, knowing he won’t even listen to you until morning. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Azriel lands on the floor of Rhys’s office feeling like he’s been stabbed.

His shadows are going wild, writhing over every surface in the office screaming at him to go back to spring to get you. He doesn’t hear Rhys calling his name, doesn’t feel him until Rhys is on the floor in front of him shaking Azriel out of his daze. 

“Az, brother, are you alright? What happened in Spring?” It was supposed to be a routine visit, check to see what Tamlin was up to, and get back to the Night Court before dawn. His only rule was that he couldn’t be seen. He didn’t expect to find his mate in that garden.

He can’t even speak, the shock stealing away his voice as he reaches a hand out to Rhys collapsing the obsidian walls in his mind to let his brother in. 

“Rhys you have to help me find her.” His voice sounds grated. Something keeps tugging around his heart, pulling him back towards you. He doesn’t even know your name just that he needs to be near you again.

Rhys nods, looking over the memory again, trying to find any sort of clue as to who you were. Azriel tugs on the bond in his chest, trying to reassure himself that this was real.  

“I’ve seen that necklace somewhere before, let's check the library” Rhys helps his brother to his feet winnowing them into the winding library. “We’ll find her Az I promise.” He claps his brother on the shoulder as he begins his search. 

Rhys and Az spent the rest of the night pouring over tomes and tomes of jewels spanning across the entirety of Prythian. They found a mention of the necklace in the Summer Court, the entire court known for the beautiful gems it produces. They eventually found out it was a gift from Summer to be passed down to the Lady of Spring which only left them in more confusion. 

“Spring doesn’t have a Lady anymore.” Azriel’s frustration only grew. The longer he was away from you the more insane he felt. He always thought the myth about the need you felt for a mate was exaggerated, but now he knows it wasn’t a lie.  The only thing he can think of now is being near you again. 

Rhys wracks his brain for anything that could help his brother find his mate when he remembers his visits to Spring as a boy.

He recalls then, flashes of a girl hiding in the stairways of the Spring Manor, always trying to listen into the meetings between his father and Tamlin’s. He always saw you in the stables, tending gently to the horses. He assumed you were a child of one of the servants but what if…

“Azriel, I think there might be a Lady in the Spring Court.” He reaches out his hand to his brother to let him see the memories, and Azriel knows it’s you instantly, can feel the bond singing in his chest at the sight of you even in memory. “And I think I know where you can find her.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’re brushing the mane of your favorite horse, trying to ignore the call in your chest pulling you elsewhere, when you feel the brush of cold against your cheek. Your head snaps up, looking around you to find the source. You see the shadow coiling in the top corner of the barn before it shoots off again. Just like last time you play into its game of chase following the snaking path back into the maze. You keep up much better in your riding boots instead of your bare feet skidding on the gravel path. You find the male at the center again, this time both of you unmasked, taking each other in under the light of day. 

“Hi,” it’s the only thing you manage to choke out your soul begging to go to him. You suddenly feel insecure in your muddy boots and loose tunic, but the male is looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

He dips his head offering you a small smile. 

“Hello, my name is Azriel.”

[deepouterspacecandy]

Ink and Paper Hearts

I wanted to write something for Valentine's Day, and wound up with over 8k words. Sheesh! Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for being here! Be kind to yourself and others. 18+ only. Violence and sexual themes. Angst, fluff, etc.

Raised on a cattle ranch, you spent your early days on horseback tending to the farm and living off the land. When disaster left you orphaned, a ragtag group of survivors embraced you as one of their own. Over time, they had become your family, and together, you’d endure natural disasters, famine, and hordes of infected.

It only took one sweep of malevolent raiders to destroy your home and turn everything you’d ever known to dust. You escaped the attack within an inch of your life.

Isaac was the one who discovered you withering away in an old diner off the freeway, fending off the infected with nothing but your integrity and a baseball bat. His medical team, which accompanied him as they moved between compounds, took care of your recovery, and nursed you back to health.

The leader of the Washington Liberation Front admired any person who possessed the strength to fight and the compassion to care for animals simultaneously, and in exchange for a safe place to lay your head, you promised to do just that.

It was a relinquishment of power; you learned early on. Anything involving Isaac came at a cost. Your bond with him was duty-bound, but he offered you another chance at having a family and a purpose. After being all alone in that desolate place, you’d been more than willing to fall in line.

Still, you were a different person when you first arrived in Seattle.

Some would say naïve. You saw yourself as a practical optimist. Now, you’re not so sure.

It’s truly astonishing how a year of unrelenting conflicts with the Scars can diminish the brightness of your silver lining.

The ability to find distraction in your work is a double-edged sword.

A jack of all trades, you spend most of your time working with the four-legged soldiers of the WLF. You have extremely limited patience for the human variety, on both sides of the fence. You tolerate a handful of your comrades, but between assignments, you’re happiest with your nose in a book, savouring the quiet and escaping into distant realms.

The drive for escapism hasn’t been a difficult undertaking lately.

A group of thirty soldiers left the grounds on assignment last month, and only two returned.

It left the stadium halls quieter, heads hanging lower than what you’d ever witnessed. Interactions that would otherwise leave you with a sunny lilt, instead left you carrying a heaviness that you couldn’t quite shake.

Few civilians choose to dive into surface level banter like they used to and the collective fear and sadness shrouding the compound has kept it that way for some time.

It serves as a reminder that even with extensive training and the most advanced military equipment, tragedy can strike without discrimination.

Unchecked and alone, the infected will forever wander through the shadows, driven by an unending quest to find their next victim. Maybe the same idea is true for all adversaries.

Your primary objective is to ensure the community remains united and intact. If you manage to stay sane, that’s a plus.  

“How are you today, my little sunflower?” Manny asks, mischievously tugging your jacket.

“You better be talking to the dogs.”

“And if I’m not?” he asks, kneeling to offer unlimited ear scratches to the newest litter.

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to refer you to every other time you’ve ever asked,” you say, giving the bottom of his boot a kick. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yes, he does!”

A woman’s voice booms from the other side of the unit, and Manny forces a smile.

“The bane of my existence.”

You chuckle at his misery, knowing little about his relationship with Abby outside of the kinship they portray in combat and their supposed insufferable roommate arrangement. Something you’re only privy to after running into her after hours at the library as she was trying to catch some shuteye on the couch there.

“Will you quit harassing pretty girls and grab a damn dog already?”

As she approaches, tails of all shapes and sizes wag with incredible speed, exuding pure happiness. You wonder how much time she has spent in the kennels when you’re not around. Isaac has her spearheading every mission from here to Chicago, so you rarely see her. But the dogs never forget a kind face.

You exchange a few pleasantries with Abby before she drags her unenthusiastic partner to work. Manny’s womanizing ways at the stadium serve as a constant reminder of your boundaries in relationships.

You’re safer by yourself.

Abby does seem like a sweetheart, though.

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

“We ship out tomorrow morning,” Abby says, handing you an empty canteen and a backpack, a clipboard braced to her side by her white knuckled grasp.

Her abrupt tone makes you jump when it normally wouldn’t. She’s struggling to keep her voice steady, but you suspect she has more important things to worry her mind about. 

“Right,” you nod. “Any idea how long?”

As she’s rushing to complete the next task, your query hits her at the worst possible second, adding to her already teetering stress load. You recognize it a moment too late and your teeth ache at the back of your jaw when she spins on her heel, pinning you with a glare.

“Do you expect a serious answer, or are you just trying to piss me off?”

“No, I—”

“Promises around here are as worthless as the ETA themselves, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Promises? What did that have to do with anything?

“I’m sorry, I swear I wasn’t trying to—”

“Anything else I can assist you with, soldier? Or can we finish wasting my time?” Abby bellows.

You knew it would be a mistake to leave the K9 unit, but circumstances with the Seraphites have forced your hand. They not only invaded WLF territory, causing destruction and casualties among your people, but they’ve also been blocking your teams from conducting supply runs, leading to a rather grim situation in the reserves.

“You don’t have to bite my head off,” you say, feeling the tension rise as you widen your stance against her more imposing one. “We’re all stuck in this mess.”

“Oh, really?” she seethes. “Good to know. I’ll be sure to hand you a shovel next time our people turn up in body bags. Give you a break from scooping dog crap to help us grownups with the actual shit.”

Abby is your superior and you know better than to test the hierarchy. The moment you denied Isaac’s advances, you tumbled from the top spot. But you’re no chump.

“What’s your problem?”

In a split second, Abby’s body looms over you as she detonates, “You’re my problem,” her breath hot against your face.

She flinches when you lose your balance and stumble backward, narrowly catching yourself. If her instinct was to rescue you, she restrained herself just in time, her hand frozen in mid-air. A twitch nags at the corners of her tired eyes.

“You’re no different from the rest,” you say, walking backward, chest heaving. “It’s all the fucking same.”

You’re down the hall and veiled by the four walls of your room before the opportunity to fumble your conversation further buries you in shame.

It’s going to be a long night.

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

Manny runs through his roll call sheet twice, inspecting each soldier with every measure but a squat and cough. If he thought he’d catch you on a minor clothing infraction, hell, a mismatched pair of socks, he’s sadly mistaken. You wouldn’t give Abby the satisfaction and besides, you hadn’t slept a wink preparing for this assignment.

“Where’s Anderson?” Manny asks under his breath. The team surrounding him dip their heads and you try to avert your attention. Brush it off like you had been too busy inspecting your gear to overhear him.

“We’re not going blind, are we, Alvarez?” Abby says, shouldering through the group to drop her bag on the tailgate of the Humvee.

When her arm brushes yours, you recoil, your fist hitting your stomach with a muffled thud. Her head snaps in your direction, but her gaze is less volatile than before. You make a point not to place too much trust in that emotional assessment, finding solace in the familiar sensation of your twisting hands.

“Alright,” she shouts above the murmurs of your unit, the quiet chatter falling into silence. “You will work in pairs, at all times, even when we are in proximity to each other. This is unnegotiable, so don’t ask me if you have to bring a friend to the pisser. The answer is yes.”

The group’s attention is undeterred, even as a faint chuckle escapes them, their eroded black boots facing her commanding presence.

“If you hear something, say something,” she continues, her chin bowing slightly. “It may save a life.”

You swallow thickly and lean against the armed vehicle, its cold steel biting into your back. It’s possible that your sleepless night will affect your performance, but you decide not to emphasize it and hoist yourself upright before anyone notices.

“Our destination is approximately sixty miles from here, and we will cross into Scar territory temporarily, so we’ll need to be cautious. Eyes on rooftops, balconies, you know the drill.”

The group divides between the Humvee and a military truck, and it’s only after twenty minutes of driving that you realize Abby has chosen you as her combat partner for the time being. You feel the weight of her thigh against yours, as she adjusts her legs to accommodate her backpack, and you’re left pondering her decision.

There is a clear sense of trust between her and Manny, making him not only her closest friend, but a lifeline in warfare. Does she think you’re weak and in need of a stronger match? You gnaw on your bottom lip at the notion, focusing on the greenery flitting past your window.

“Come on, Anderson, your balls aren’t that big,” Manny teases, gesturing to her outstretched posture, particularly the way her legs take up enough room for two. You shift toward the door to free up some real estate between you and concentrate back on the road.

As their banter fades into background noise, your attention shifts to observing the deserted surroundings, vigilant for any indication of danger. Apart from a pair of rabbits hopping around, the streets are completely motionless.

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

The cavalry parks outside a derelict warehouse, its craggy roof adorned by a lush carpet of moss. Rust-bitten chain link fencing surrounds an expansive lot at the rear, cube vans with faded labels scattered throughout. It’s a tempting location to scavenge, but the prospect makes your stomach lurch.

The presence of tall grass and the lack of windows on each vehicle creates ample opportunity for trouble. A lurking enemy, dead or alive, is something you’d like to avoid. It’s possible that someone has already searched the vans, despite their undisturbed appearance.

“Let’s break this down into teams and tackle it all at once,” Abby announces, nodding at the parking lot and the adjoining building. “Six outside, inspecting the trucks, and six inside. We’ll scour the property first, and then we can set up for the night.”

“Wait,” you say.

She blows out a frustrated breath.

“This better be good.”

The temptation to tell her to fuck all the way off is intense.

“Maybe we should put a couple scouts up high, search the grounds together,” you say, pointing to the safest vantage points. “Eyes in the sky.”

“Any other suggestions?” she asks.

“I mean, no—but,” you begin.

Abby interrupts, holding her hand up. “Like I said. Six and six. We don’t need to be out here longer than necessary.”

“Fine.”

She guides you toward the building, her palm on your lower back, and you jerk away from her grasp. She may have the authority to call the shots, but you decide where you place your neck on the chopping block.

“I’m with them,” you say, trudging toward the trucks.

“Hey!” Abby says.

“Oh, Jesus Christ. What?”

She gives you a once over, gritting her teeth.

You throw your hands up and let them slap against your sides, waiting for her to hurl her discontent at your head, clearly eager to tear a strip off you in front of your squad. With a distant gaze, she fixates on the hollow space behind you before heading towards the warehouse.

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

It took several hours to secure the perimeter and set up camp inside.

Your heavy eyelids rejoice at the promise of rest. The team in charge of the mail trucks uncovered a mother lode of undelivered packages, chock full of useful supplies. It was almost as impressive as the haul the WLF brought back from the airport a few months back.

Within the building, soldiers set up their bedrolls among a labyrinth of cluttered offices. It’s quite comical to overhear the entertainment value of some dusty, redundant telephones and keyboards. You catch snippets of the amusing conversations while rearranging your own space, the sound of playful jabbering rising from the ashes, finally allowing you to release a deeply trapped breath.

Abby eases up on her protocols to make the rounds and ensure everyone is okay. You make use of the time alone to freshen up and explore, gathering candles from various boxes to arrange in your shared office, the wax and wicks a rare, comforting find.

Abby spots them as soon as she returns.

“Nighttime always feels darker away from home,” you explain, worried she might find them frivolous.

She doesn’t.

“Candles are good,” she says, picking one up to roll in her hands. She scrapes her thumbnail along the wax base and shifts on her feet. “I like them.”

“Alright,” you say, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

You try to ignore the intensity of her gaze as it grazes over you, but beads of sweat build along your lower back. It might be time to crack a window. Occupying yourself with that activity, you grow increasingly frustrated as the most accessible ones refuse to budge.  

“Let me try,” she offers.

“I’ve got it, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” she huffs, and you glimpse her crossing her arms over her broad chest.

You reckon Abby isn’t used to being turned down, and it sours your stomach a little to be the outlier.

By climbing the desk closest to the wall, you gain some leverage and drive your palms into the ridge of the window. You feel the sharp edge digging painfully into your flesh, your back muscles tightening to an impossible degree.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grunt, putting all your might into another attempt, the image of a bottle smashing through the pane something you’d seriously consider acting upon if you were alone.

“Stop being stubborn and let me help.”

“I don’t need your help,” you groan, the tickle of sweat now threatening to break into a full stream down your spine.

“Sure seems like you do,” she says, the arrogance in her tone combined with the weight of her gaze on your back, sending your lid rocking chaotically over a burgeoning boil.

You suck in a rigid breath and ignore her remark.

“Look, if you just—”

“Abby!” you say, jolted by your own shout.

Manny must overhear the commotion, slinking against the door frame to clear his throat. As they murmur behind you, you bow your head and brace your hand against the glass, waiting to be reprimanded.

When you twist your body to offer an apology, the room is empty.

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

Even as the sun disappears below the horizon, the air in your office, as well as the rest of the building, becomes oppressively warm. You dig through your bag for a less cumbersome shirt but resort to stripping down to your sports bra and a pair of boxers. Abby hasn’t come knocking for a while, long enough for a clicker to obliterate you ten times over, but you temper your outrage.

Downstairs, there’s a treasure trove of unopened loot piled on racks, beckoning your interest. Abby abandoned her rule of two and frankly, you couldn’t care less.

Truthfully, she never wanders too far from her pack.

It’s possible she’s unaware of your whereabouts while you gather boxes from the metal racks downstairs in your underwear.

But it’s also possible she has eyes on you wherever you go.

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

“What’s all this?” Abby asks, lingering in the doorway.

Lost mail spills from the bins surrounding you. You’re captivated by the untold stories inside them. A peek into a world you’d never known.

“Letters, mostly,” you say.

Just inside the entryway, Abby slouches against the wall, absentmindedly playing with the fibers of the carpet using her socked feet.

“What kind?”

You’ve torn through dozens of envelopes, the contents of each one wildly different. It’s almost disturbing to imagine how many people had an entire universe they experienced through their eyes only.

You’ve already envisioned yourself journeying from one post office to another, gathering historical accounts and breathing new life into forgotten tales.

“I’m a bit lost with most of them,” you say, credit card debt and bank statements flying straight over your head. “Structures before the outbreak are a lot different from ours.”

Abby clicks her tongue, moving further into the room to sit across from you. She’s careful not to encroach on your space and a twinge of remorse worms into your belly. You offer an olive branch, handing her a photograph.

“But then there’s stuff like this,” you continue.

Abby’s eyes widen at the provocative image of a woman, her slender figure draped across a pristine silk sheet, the vibrant red of her lace panties and sharp stilettos creating a striking contrast. Attached to it is a note that reads:

When you’re alone, close your eyes, and I’ll be whispering your name.

Abby puffs a quiet laugh as a flush of pink creeps along the high points of her cheekbones.

“Who’s it addressed to?” she asks.

You search for the envelope among a sea of scribbled addresses and realize it’s a futile endeavour.

“I’m honestly not sure,” you admit. “I think I lost it.”

“Damn,” Abby smirks, running her thumb over the curled edges of the polaroid. “Lost in transit twice.”

You give a half shrug, noticing how enraptured she is with the picture. Her blonde lashes catch the candlelight at an angle that cast long shadows across her freckled skin.

“Manny would lose his mind,” Abby says, rolling her eyes. “He’s obsessed with shit like this—women in general, really. Horny bastard.”

You can feel the giggles bubbling up inside you, and you clamp your lips together to keep them from escaping. Abby Anderson, the most revered soldier of the Washington Liberation Front, sitting criss-cross applesauce talking smack about her best friend.

It is about the funniest thing you’ve seen in weeks.

“Have you—ever sent one?” you ask, treading dangerous waters and bracing yourself.

She blows out a ragged breath, pocketing the evidence.

You wonder if it’ll be a gift for Manny or something she keeps for herself. The notion causes vicious heat to rise across your forehead and down the bridge of your nose.

“Not a chance. It’s not really my thing.”

The mountain of mail between you becomes a welcomed distraction, and you make use of having a focal point to stare at.

When she tosses the question back your way, it throws your stuttering heart into a full gallop.

“Have you?” she whispers, leaning back to study you with a leg outstretched. The heel of her foot rocks to a slow tune only she can hear.

Her muscular arms bulge as she balances herself and you do your level best to pretend you don’t care. You expect her to wriggle uncomfortably or try to change the subject, but she doesn’t. Instead, she waits on you to bounce the ball she has rolled onto your court.

It’s you who can’t stop squirming.

“I haven’t found anyone worth the effort,” you say, and it feels a little embarrassing, maybe, but you figure honesty goes a lot further with Abby. “People suck.”

“Would you?” she asks. “If you found someone.”

Your racing heart leaves you dizzy.

It’s too goddamn hot in this office. You crane your neck to fire silent vitriolic arrows toward the stubborn windows, desperate for a fresh gust of air to grace the back of your damp shoulders. Abby stumbles to her feet, stepping over you to solve your problem once and for all.

With a soft click, the lock releases, and the window glides open, allowing the cool evening breeze to sweep through the space.

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” Abby smirks, dropping back down to her spot on the floor. This time, she lies on her side, head propped up by her arm. “You almost had it.”

The crooked smile quirking up on her mouth hits you like a flashbang.

“I kind of hate you right now,” you say without venom. “But I should probably say thank you, huh?”

“Probably,” she grins, teeth raking slowly over the pout of her bottom lip.

She has freckles there too, and you’re suddenly envious of them.

“I won’t,” you blurt, tearing open another envelope. “Say thank you.”

“I wouldn’t either,” she laughs, and it’s a deep, warm cadence. A laugh meant only for your ears. She gestures to the letter in your hand. “What’s that one?”

The grin you’re desperately trying to hide causes your face to ache.

The brash woman you’re hardly accustomed to sharing a home with at the stadium is full of surprises, it seems. There’s a side to her that isn’t militant and melancholy, but rather the opposite.

She’s playful and witty. Her eyes, a staggering blue lake, are gentle and kind.

You could fall madly, painfully in love with a woman like Abby.

Abby herself, even. If she wasn’t an unstable box of dynamite.

You skim the handwritten letter with the tip of your finger, and another wash of warmth blooms inside you at the bulk of the sentiment.

“It’s a confession,” you explain, fixing your attention on the last paragraph. “He’s been in love with her for a long time, since they were kids.”

“Will you read it to me?”

Her gentle query sends a shiver of sunshine down your spine. Her eyelids are heavy like yours, and the shadows beneath hers speak volumes about the burden she carries. The weight of the world.

“Only if you promise to read the next one.”

“Deal,” she murmurs, sliding your bag over to use as a pillow. She snuggles into it and your whole body vibrates.

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

The trip home is lighter, despite the nearly crippling load. Clothing, toys, garden seeds, tools, home goods, toiletry items — the list is a mile long. You couldn’t take everything, but the mass of what hadn’t deteriorated or spoiled made it through the gates.

It’s a hopeful thing, not only to witness your group returning home unharmed, but with enough supplies to ease the strain taken from a new fruitful avenue.

The moment you and your squad walk into the chow hall together, you’re met with a chorus of cheers and applause. As Abby vanishes amidst the swarm of people, you exchange a few handshakes before seeking escape from the cacophony.

Your sleeping quarters are the chaotic aftermath of hurried packing and abandoned reading material, with your mattress being the only semblance of order in the disarray. It was Manny who taught you how to make your bed to military standards and perhaps his goal was to inspire more in you than routine, but either way, the habit stuck.

Gratitude simmers for it now more than ever, the crisp, clean sheets offering respite. Freshly showered and dead on your feet, you crawl into your cozy bed and drift away.

A thunderous crash shocks you awake.

You blink against the abyss, immediately comforted by the stadium lights leaking through your curtains. It drives other citizens insane, the absence of darkness, but you’re thankful for it.

Someone appears to be banging your door down.

“Cool it, already,” you say, scrambling for your cotton robe. The brutal assault on your sleep at this hour deserves to be outlawed—prohibited by the laws of the WLF. “Holy hell, are you trying to wake the whole neighbourhood?”

You tear open the door and any visceral anger coursing through you evaporates at the sight. Tall, fierce, and devastatingly gorgeous, all blended with the rich spice of amber liquor.

Loose tendrils of hair cascade along her shoulders and collarbone in protest of her braid.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have something for you. Can I come in?” Abby asks, and it’s not a question.

Before you can even request a moment to compose yourself, she unceremoniously dumps a heavy grey bin on your living room floor, adding to the chaos, before collapsing onto your couch.

“What’s going on, Abby?”

She may be a delightful, luminous drink of water when she wants to be. But damn, can she ever snore the walls down in record time.

You plop yourself onto the bin beside her and try to make sense of her unexpected visit. Should you venture down the hall to wake her roommate? There’s likely a sock hanging from the doorknob by now, but it’s an option.

“Anderson?”

The sound of your hands drumming on the sides of the plastic container fills the room, while you contemplate the amount of bourbon your crew has consumed from lunchtime until now. An indulgence that landed on your doorstep all the same.

When Abby whimpers and curls in on herself, you resolve to drape her in your heaviest blanket, hoping to help her tackle the unsteady beats of her sleep cycle and a looming hangover. She bundles the fabric in her fists and clenches it underneath her chin.

Captivated by her klutzy aura, you nearly trip on the forgotten bin.

The lid doesn’t want to come apart from its secured spot and you have the presence of mind to check for a locking device, just to be sure. There isn’t one, of course, but you’ll never let yourself live down the office window debacle.

It’s going to require elbow grease and a hefty tug. You hiss as it separates in several loud pops. Luckily, the noise only costs the weary girl on your couch a flinch or two.

Letters fill it to the brim, and you’re enthralled by Abby’s decision to bring them back with her. Your instinct is to open each one, but it doesn’t feel right without her there to chirp commentary at you.

“I don’t get it,” you breathe in disbelief, expecting your words to meld with the shadows and disappear.

Her ghost-quiet voice turns the thermostat up a thousand degrees.

“I was mean,” she stammers. “You didn’t deserve it.”

It appears that you’re tapping into her guilt-ridden subconscious, which feels so delicate you consider shaking her awake. You doubt she’d want to lay it all bare.

Does she always talk in her sleep?

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “Water under the bridge.”

Your response seems to placate her overworked brain. You can relate, as your own tries to lure you back to the land of lonely slumber.

You notice her face doesn’t relax, even when her breathing slows, the lines in her forehead streaked with dirt. To never find peace, even during sleep, must be exhausting beyond what most can fathom. It seems cruel to disturb her, even if she’s restless. You settle for leaving a glass of water on the side table for her before settling in at the end of the couch. If she startles awake, you’d rather she doesn’t do it alone.

Cramped onto the only slice of cushion she hasn’t claimed, you let the commotion of the day pull you under.

As morning greets you, you find yourself back in your bed.

The familiar scent of Abby drenches your blanket, but she’s long gone.

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

It’s your first day off in months, but you check the work assignment list to confirm. On your way back from the bulletin board, the classrooms are abuzz with joyful energy. Children eagerly play with the toys and delve into the books your squad brought home, and it gives you a sense of belonging. A goal beyond surviving.

Until now, you have thought little about your life beyond protecting the community. It always made sense to put your neck on the line for the greater good. While casually strolling past the gym, not in search of a certain soldier, you can’t help but wonder if there might be other adventures awaiting you.

Abby’s breath tickles your ear, and you leap a mile out of your skin.

“Looking for me?”

“Son of a bitch,” you wheeze.

She doubles over with laughter, imitating the strangled noise you make when you’re caught off guard. She takes a minute to catch her breath before she gives you a generous shove.

“You’ve got quite a potty mouth,” she teases, wrinkling her nose impishly at a passing group of young ones. “There are little ears around here, you know.”

“Yeah, well, they probably know better than to sneak up on a person,” you say, finding Abby’s laughter rather infectious. You bite back a grin. “Who does that? Is an apocalypse not enough for you people?”

Abby breaks into another bout of giggles, seeming to enjoy your newfound passion for merging the old world with the new one.

“Is it our apocalypse though, if we were born into it?”

“Yes, Abby, it is,” you huff, eager for your heart rate to return to baseline. “We’re in an active apocalypse and you’re awful.”

As she leans against the large window you’d been peering through, the sounds of the gym fade into the background. She tilts her head at you, eyes sparkling with intrigue. Clad in workout gear that accentuates her sculpted body, she doesn’t appear sweaty.

You must’ve caught her on her way in.

“Are you busy later?”

“Not really,” you say, fidgeting with a frayed string on your sleeve. “Are you?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Okay,” you say, staring at a scuff on your sneaker before catching her gaze.

“Okay,” she mimics, directing her nose scrunch at you this time, turning your mouth dry. “Feel like being busy later?”

It’s not as if her tone is explicit or even her language, but this woman is a supernatural force. So, tingles rise into gooseflesh from your head to your toes, regardless.

“What do you have in mind?” you ask.

The roars of a lively group of soldiers reverberate through the gym, their spirited chants urging their champion to hurry her ass up. They beckon to her as if they are a part of the kindergarten cohort, causing both of you to snicker and shake your heads. One of them wolf-whistles, the rise and fall of the pitch echoing into the hallway. Abby wastes no time throwing up her middle finger in response.

“I can come by around seven. Does that work?” she asks, reaching for your wrist. She gives it a quick squeeze and slowly pulls away, her fingers sliding to the tip of your pinky.

Her simple touch is unexpected, and it electrifies you.

“Works for me.”

She beams, walking backwards through the gym doors, brows jumping at your frozen form.

You amuse her. This much is obvious.

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

A rhythmic tap grabs your attention, a stark difference from the first time Abby came knocking. But to keep with tradition, she doesn’t arrive empty-handed.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you say, gesturing to the dishes balanced precariously in her arms.

“I wanted to.”

She sets the meal fit for an army battalion down onto the counter and searches your kitchen cupboards for something to drink from.

With a single, forceful movement of her forearm, she clears space by shoving your knick-knacks aside to make room.

“Juice cool?”

The way she effortlessly makes herself at home in your space leaves you speechless. You nod.

“Good,” she says, a repentant grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Pretty sure I’m off booze for the rest of my life.”

With the same delicate touch she used to tidy your countertop, she pours the freshly squeezed liquid, causing both glasses to hover on the verge of spilling. Abby takes a step back to assess the situation before bending over the rims, producing the most obnoxious slurping noise. It nearly sends you into hysterics as she levels out both glasses.

She hands one to you with droplets of orange decorating her chin and the collar of her shirt.

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “Quality service right here. Plus, I love germs.”

Balancing the glass to the best of your ability in your right hand, you pull your sleeve over your left and use it to pat her face dry. Abby snorts, her normally lively body becoming static under your ministrations. She swallows heavily, and a calmness settles over you.

“I don’t have germs,” she pouts. Her eyes drop to your mouth for a split-second before her cheeks erupt in swaths of vibrant pink. “I swear.”

“You’re a mess,” you scoff, enamoured by this clumsy woman, blazing a path directly into the pit of your stomach. “Did you know that?”

As she nods, her broad shoulders relax, and her frenetic breathing begins to slow.

“Nobody else sees it,” she says, her words hanging heavy in the air.

The pressure of that emotional cargo would cause any person to buckle under the weight sometimes. It’s a strenuous life for everyone on base, but the expectations placed on her are especially burdensome.

“I see it.”

Your confession doesn’t offend her; instead, it seems to liberate her.

She sighs an exhale of relief, and it makes your heart squeeze.

“I can live with that,” she whispers.

The food was prepared with love as is anything set aside for Abby, and she tells you all about the cook who put it together. An original member of the Salt Lake crew, and a phenomenal chef, he got them through their bleakest days.

When the WLF opened their arms, he committed fully to helping Abby achieve her goals, working tirelessly to support her training and keep himself on the straight and narrow after their tragic end with the Fireflies.

She doesn’t go into detail about what happened, and your instinct is to let that be okay. The heart-wrenching rumours are more than enough to go on for now.

“He’s stoked for me to have a little downtime,” she says, waving her fork at the spread now spilling onto your coffee table across various plates. “Hence the whole smorgasbord situation. As soon as I told him—”

She pauses, letting out a little whimper of embarrassment, seeming to scold herself for being so open.

“Told him what?” you press, detecting a subtle grin playing at the edges of her eyes.

“He wanted to make an impression on my friend, I guess.”

Your neck tickles with heat and you attempt to ventilate by pulling the collar of your shirt away from your collarbone for a moment.

“The man can cook,” you say with your mouth full. It comes out funnier than you expected, muffled by chewing. “Sorry.”

“You’re quite a mess yourself,” she smirks, leaning to drape her arms along the back of your couch, scanning the state of your apartment. “Your poor books.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with my books!”

She hauls herself off the couch to make an example of you, crouching at a cluttered stack. So, an earthquake must’ve hit only your room—what of it?

“I mean, this is just sad.”

“We can’t all have bookshelves and organizational skills, Anderson.”

“Says who?” she chuckles, her attention diverted by a novel that has piqued her curiosity. “This isn’t a lack of skill, either. Where’s your discipline, girl?”

Maybe it’s crouched in front of you, a blonde bombshell waiting to go off and properly reduce you to human rubble.

“I’m plenty disciplined, thank you very much.”

“Yeah?” she says, tongue tucked behind her teeth in challenge.

The audacity, when you’re currently over the moon about this delicious meal, you’ll likely never get to enjoy twice.

“Yeah,” you retort, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve like a feral beast. You strip off your shirt and toss it into the abyss, grabbing a clean one from its home on a toppling lamp.

Her bright bursts of laughter make you giddy, a woman who never finds time to play, sitting on your carpet waiting for you to join her.

“Who even are you?” she asks, and it’s so gentle it stops you midway through redressing to ponder her question.

The cotton tank top falls past your hips and you smooth it out, sensitive to the wrinkles in a way you haven’t previously been.  

“It looks good,” Abby blurts, reading you like the sea of books strewn about. “You’re—good.”

There’s something about the fortitude of her honesty that helps you decipher between barbs and a genuine fondness for your idiosyncrasies.

Maybe she’s someone you can trust after all.

She shuffles across the floor to the bin filled with letters and lifts it above her head with ease.

“What on earth are you doing?”

As her brows jump mischievously, she dumps the skeletal remains of a past life onto your floor, filling the room with a waterfall of bones. It ignites a fierce desire to protect this girl—create a time capsule of this moment for the next generation to build upon.

A reminder that not all broken things are hopeless things.

“Well, now you’ve gone and ruined my tidy apartment.”

“My bad,” she giggles.

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

Each passing moment feels like tiny punctures in an hourglass, causing time to trickle away. You’re both aware of it, trying to stretch the night. Abby leaves for a spell to hunt down her chef, in pursuit of caffeine. She returns flushed and sleepy, the bitter aroma wafting through the door alongside her soothing presence.

Curiosity and exhaustion get the best of you, and you ask about her friend. His thoughts on your late-night rendezvous with history. She does a goofy impression that makes you want to wrap your arms around her, and you watch her in fascination like an old cowboy reel, projected onto your heart.

“He says you’re a bad influence.”

“Bullshit,” you snicker, tossing her another envelope.

“Okay, so he didn’t say that. But he did tell me to give him a heads up if I decide to run away with you.”

You try to push that thought aside.

“Really, now? And why does he think that’s in the cards?”

“He thinks you’re my dream girl.”

She speaks as if she’s describing weather patterns to you, and you’re bewildered. The blunt force of her words mixed with the softness of her tone leaves you shell-shocked. You search for a tether; silently categorize every reason it can’t be true.

“What did you tell him?” you ask, busying yourself with a letter you read while Abby was away.

A tale of woe between two quarrelling families. It reminds you of Romeo and Juliet, some less violent, modern-day version, and based on the contents of their struggle, you gather at least one of them was grateful for the pandemic.

“Do you really want to know?” she asks, pinning you with her gaze.

You nod, a buzz of energy flitting through you.

“Yes,” you say.

“I told him to go fuck himself.”

Cackles burst from your chest, finding her candour rather precious. Of course, Abby told the guy off. But she doesn’t look away after she tells you; doesn’t shrug or scoff. She studies your reaction and holds her breath until a tiny smile breaks her anxious expression.

You forget where you are in proximity to the earth for a second.

“I guess I’ll debrief you on that situation at a later date,” you say.

“I hope so.”

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

The sound of her steady breathing is peaceful as the light of early morning whispers through the fog. She idly sips at her coffee and takes her time, setting each letter into their respective piles. It’s engrained in her to keep things orderly, an obvious clash with your paper heap. Unlike you, she finds the government letters intriguing, even the boring ass mortgage and debt related ones, and reads them all thoroughly.

Your hand catches on an envelope shaped differently from the rest. Inside is a card, with a dozen raised hearts adorning the front in varying shades of red. When you flip it open, it reads:

With you by my side, every day feels like Valentine’s Day. Thank you for being my rock, my love, and my everything.

Your family never spoke of this while you were growing up.

“Valentine’s Day?” you yawn. “What’s that all about?”

You show her the card, and she rubs her eyes, nursing the tail end of her own yawn with the back of her hand.

“Give it here, woman.”

She looks it over to confirm her suspicions, and with a knowing smile, sits up straight. She taps the card against her knee.

“My dad told me about this.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s um—it’s a tradition people celebrated near the end of winter. A day to do things for the ones you love, I guess.”

“Like a holiday or something?”

“Sort of,” Abby says, fumbling a bit with her own understanding of it. “Romantic stuff, mostly.”

She rubs her neck, mulling something over while you try to wrap your head around this new information. One day out of the year to do what exactly? Who was supposed to do the things—both people? Did the traditions start after breakfast or were you meant to wait until suppertime? Was it an endeavour meant to last the entire day?

“My dad didn’t really make time to celebrate it,” Abby continues. “He was always too busy at the hospital and then my mom—well, she worked there too, so.”

The veil of exhaustion lifts when you realize she’s peeling back a wound right before your eyes. You suck in a breath and hope she doesn’t mistake it for anything but your desire to let her speak. She drops the card on her lap and wrings her hands.

“They did these small things instead, you know? On regular days,” Abby explains. Her body droops as she seems to pick through her retention of their conversations.

“Like what?” you ask, your voice just a hair above a whisper.

“Like—okay. My dad loved to dance,” Abby says, leaning forward with a sad smile, the slouch of her shoulders regaining composure at the happier memory. “He was fucking terrible at it,” she puffs a laugh. “But he was a music buff and when he met my mom, he said it was the best excuse he could find to get close to her.”

You ache for her to have them here to tell the story, instead.

“So, they danced together a lot?”

“All the time, according to him,” Abby says, her face lighting up. “He told me that my mom was super shy, so she’d always give him hell about it. But he’d ask her to dance pretty much anywhere. Parking lots, gas stations, one time they danced in the middle of the grocery store.”

You try to imagine what Abby’s mom looks like, but your mind can’t seem to conjure up anything beyond Abby’s own image, a showcase of strength and grit.

“Do you remember much about her?” you ask.

“Not really. She died when I was a baby,” Abby explains, adjusting the cuffs of her shirt. “She loved being pregnant with me, though, apparently.”

“Well, duh,” you murmur.

Abby crinkles her nose at you and bites the edge of her smile.

“Dad said her stomach got so big that he started dancing with her from behind. She’d rest her head on his shoulder, and they’d just sway back and forth.”

“I love that,” you say.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, fondness heavy on her breath.

Abby’s speech becomes slurred as the birds on your balcony greet the dawn.

“Every time they danced, the scent of her reminded him of a cabin in the woods, surrounded by these giant pine trees he used to pass on his way to work. He’d dream up this elaborate plan for them to quit their careers and live off-grid. I think he promised it to her about a thousand times.”

“That sounds kind of amazing, actually.”

“Yeah,” she says, tapping her nose with the Valentine’s card, her sleepy gaze drifting to yours. “He was a sap.”

She finishes with the most outrageously loud, cavernous yawn and you’re too tired to do much more than giggle at her larger-than-life spirit.

“You can crash on my couch again, if you want,” you offer.

She wobbles to her feet, reaching for your hand to help pull you up.

“I’m on assignment in a couple of hours anyway,” she says, supporting your elbows while you try not to slip on the paper graveyard below. “I’ll be MIA for a while, but let’s meet up when I’m back, if you’re up for it.”

“Totally.”

“Cool,” she whispers, her fingers tracing patterns on the tips of yours before reluctantly letting go.

As she turns to walk away, her steps falter, and she abruptly spins around to face you.

“Can I hug you goodbye?” she asks.

“Of course.”

Before you can blink, Abby’s arms wrap around you, and you’re a puzzle piece, snug in her embrace. She melts you from the inside out, the comforting rhythm of her heartbeat thrumming against your body. The heat of her chest against your cheek lifts blissful sleepiness from the edges of your resolve and a part of you wants to ask her to stay.

As she gently moves to cup your head and support the back of your neck with her warm hands, you instinctively wrap your arms around her waist, afraid she might drift away.

“I feel so safe right now,” you whisper into her shoulder, and she nuzzles closer, squeezing you tight. Your feet are nearly off the ground before she relaxes her grip.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

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

Two weeks have passed since your visit with Abby and it’s hard to think about much else. It’s a pleasant distraction, even when the memory of her makes your insides flutter as if she tipped a bucket of butterflies between your ribs and set them free.

An unusually large number of soldiers from different stations have packed the grounds, and you’re grateful to have a unique job to keep you relatively separate from the chaos.

Dogs are coming home, but not all of them, and it shatters your heart to toss out their registration papers. You understand the nature of your contribution to this war machine, but it never gets easier. If you could, you’d gather up all the puppies and take them to the same cabin in the woods Abby’s father always dreamed about. Let them bask in the warm sunlight and frolic together amidst a maze of towering trees.

It’s a lovely thought followed closely by the sobering reality before you.

“You’ve done well.”

You drop the leash you were holding, and it clatters on the concrete.

“Isaac. You scared me.”

If Abby is a rare sight at the stadium, Isaac is a ghost. You haven’t seen him in months. He has expanded the WLF across several locations along the west coast and the number is only growing. Reports of a nearby prison piquing his interest have been swirling for a while now.

You’re not sure where he rests his head at night, but it’s almost never here.

“It’s nice to see you too,” he says, inspecting the four-legged fleet without getting close enough to pet them. “I hear your training program is working wonders.”

“I try. They make it easy,” you say, noticing that many puppies have tucked their tails between their legs. “What brings you to the stadium?”

“I’m—restructuring,” he explains, his footsteps echoing as he paces the unit, meticulously inspecting the facility.

Your heart sinks.

“What does this have to do with me?”

He exaggerates a smile, and it sets you on edge.

“You always ask the right questions,” he drawls, heavy hands landing on your shoulders. “I respect that about you. There’s never any fat to trim, just straight to the point.”

It’s more than you can say about him, frankly.

“I suspect you’ve heard about the prison.”

“I have,” you say, bending to pick back up the leash. A narrow excuse to put space between the two of you.

Isaac is still standing uncomfortably close, so you wrap the nylon around your wrist as an act of self soothing.

“Well, it’s proving to be an integral training facility. It’s both secure and unaffected by the flooding, which has been my biggest obstacle up to this point.”

You’d never seen the inside of a prison before, but you’ve read about them. A cold cement cage without access to sunlight, its surface striped with iron. It offered zero curb appeal. You made it a priority to give your dogs a comfortable enclosure for that very reason.

“They need me here,” you say, desperate to get ahead of his plan. “This is where I’ll be most effective.”

“I disagree.”

Your arms tingle with an icy chill as he turns to walk in the opposite direction.

“You said I’ve done well here,” you call out.

“It’s true,” he says over his shoulder. “And your expertise will be crucial. Transport leaves at oh-six hundred.”

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

You should pack to leave, but you’re frozen.

Isaac isn’t one to sugarcoat things and for once, you wish he would’ve.

You curl up in a plastic chair on your balcony and take in the fields below. Neatly organized rows of vibrant crops bordered by fruit trees, bursting with hues of orange and red. Berries snaking through walls of trellis, sweet and ripe. People milling about with baskets of laundry and boxes of produce, keeping society peaceful.

“You should’ve married him,” Manny sighs, dropping beside you. His hand rests on your knee. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you admit, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “All these fresh faces, and I’m the only one leaving.”

Manny moves his hand to your arm, offering a kind squeeze.

“You are not the only one,” he says, handing you a clipboard.

It’s a short list of dogs you’ll be taking with you, and you’re caught between wanting to laugh at Manny’s ridiculous disposition or sob at your utter misfortune. You wish the dogs could stay behind. They love when the little ones throw the ball for them in the afternoon.

“I have a life here,” you say, and it’s a plea to the universe. “This is supposed to be my home.”

Manny offers you a freshly picked apple and you roll the waxy surface between your palms. The image of Abby’s face flashes in your mind. Maybe it’s silly to feel so much, but you can’t stop it. The weight of never seeing her again makes you nauseous.

“I’m fucked,” you groan.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you in.

“Keep your chin up, Hermosa. Something tells me you won’t be gone long.”

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

Hey you,

I’ve tried to write this about a dozen times, and I still don’t know where to start. Fuck it, right?

I barely know you and somehow you made me miss you so fucking much while I was away. When I got home and you weren’t there, it felt like someone shot me in the chest.

Manny brought me your bin of letters and I swear I cried for the first time in years.

How did you get under my skin so fast?

I hear you were sad when you left, and that breaks my heart. It kills me thinking of you being unhappy. I hate that you’re somewhere I know nothing about.

What is it like over there? Are you safe?

I check in on the kennels every day. You’re missed around here a lot.

Keep your head up for me. I’m going to make this right.

Please write me back,

A.A.

You’re busy fixing the fence with a skeleton crew when a delivery truck arrives, and someone throws a letter at you. The thrill of it causes your heart to pound in your throat, a rush of adrenaline washing over you. It takes every ounce of self control to keep from disappearing to read it somewhere private.

Trucks come and go regularly, as they divide resources between stations. Isaac seems to prioritize the prison, especially on the artillery front.

You finish reinforcing the fence and race to your cell to lose yourself in your first piece of mail.

You can’t wait to steal a pen to write her back.

Abby,

I read your letter every day.

Okay, maybe more like three times a day, but who’s counting? Seriously… this place has no concept of time and I’m pretty sure there isn’t a single clock to be found.

It makes me sad you were sad. I feel like we’re on a carousel of sadness! We should change that. (Have you seen a carousel before?)

The dogs aren’t doing too bad. They like the open fields here and they’re allowed to sleep in bed with these smelly ass soldiers, which I think is more for us than them, truly.

Thanks for checking in on my crew there. Means a lot.

My bed feels like a hard slab of steel because it is, but at least I don’t have to make it every day. Don’t tell Manny.

It’s nothing like the stadium here. We don’t have gardens and schools and we definitely don’t have a gym. I know, devastating! How will I ever beat you in an arm wrestle now?

The hot water is a work in progress, so I’m learning how to not die during cold showers. That’s also a work in progress, but I squeal less now. Which is something, right?

Try not to worry your beautiful head. I’m tough. I miss your face, though. There’s so much I want to ask you.

Please tell me something about you that nobody else knows. I promise I’m the best secret keeper, ever.

P.S.

If you find any letters from actual prisoners, be sure to fill me in. I feel like they’d have some great tips!

Yours truly,

Me

You hope she lights up as much as you did when her letter arrives. It’s all you can hope for, aside from her safety and possibly a warmer blanket.

To: My Favourite Inmate,

You sure know how to make a girl laugh.

It’s good you don’t have clocks. That way, you can’t obsess over how long you’ve been gone the way I do.

Shit, I should send Manny over there for one of those cold showers. I gave him that polaroid we found, and he hasn’t come up for air in weeks.

It helps a bit to know those pups are there to keep you warm at night. I hope I can be that for you soon. I considered writing another letter because I was afraid to say it, but I think I want you to know. You belong in my arms.

Something I haven’t told anyone before…

Sometimes I miss being a Firefly, especially since things around here are getting worse by the day—but sometimes I guess I don’t want to be anything.

Maybe I’d like to try being just Abby for a while, you know? I’ve never tried that before. What do you think that would look like? Would you want to be a part of it?

I wish you were here beside me.

I’ve made it my mission.

A.A.

P.S.

When you wrapped your arms around me, it felt like lightning.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Allan Headcanons

Warnings: Obsessive Behaviour, Threats, Physical Violence, Just Allan in Love <3, Spoilers for Barbie Movie, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

The fact that you’ve paid Allan any kind of attention is dangerous in and of itself.

But if you show even a morsel of romantic attention towards him

You’re done for, babs.

We’ve all seen how Allan fights – he will NOT let you go without a struggle.

But let’s start at the beginning. Perhaps you’re a friend of Gloria’s and you get embroiled in the quest to reclaim Barbieland.

Of course, you meet Allan. And, of course, you notice that there’s something…different about him.

Endearing.

For one, he’s the only one of himself – no journalist Allans or fashion model Allans or doctor Allans: just Allan. One of a kind.

You feel bad for him. You wonder if he feels isolated in Barbieland, existing in an echo chamber wherein none of the voices are his.

So, you take it upon yourself to be as kind to him as you can.

You always acknowledge him, always smile whenever he suggests something, always encourage his ideas even when the others would shoot them down.

“I think we should at least give Allan’s idea a try,” you’d say, putting a hand on Allan’s shoulder. To which everyone gives some sound of agreement.

Not that you’d know it, given that Allan doesn’t have muscle or bone, but he’s tense under your gaze, your touch.

At first, he’s completely unaccustomed to this quite frankly positive attention. He’s used to being dismissed at best and ignored at worst, so to have you, a human, tell him that his thoughts and feelings and ideas are valid is…

Intoxicating.

Soon enough, he starts gravitating towards you.

Whenever he enters a room, he’s looking for you, and he can’t explain the flurry in his chest when he finds you.

You both make an effort to get to know each other more. He feels hot all over when you look at him with inquisitive eyes, a shower of questions raining down on him. And he does his utmost to answer each one. A ripple of pride erupting in him when he sees your fascination grow with his every answer.

But when you start to ask questions about him–

He starts to stutter.

“Uh…well–”

“Oh, come on, Allan. Don’t tell me you don’t have a favourite colour!”

If he could blush, he would. He can’t look you in the eyes no matter how mesmerising he finds them.

You smile.

“Well, I’ll go first, then. Mine’s (f/c).”

Allan smiles.

“That’s mine, too.”

It is now. What it was before doesn’t matter.

Every detail you give him, he commits to memory.

Soon enough, he’s got enough information to write an encyclopaedia about you.

He did find that you shared similar interests, though. Like food preferences.

“I’ll have to cook for you sometime when you come to the Real World.”

When? Did you just say when?

“Oh, yeah – totally! That’d be great,”

Not only have you given Allan your time: you’ve given him something deadlier than any weapon, curse, or tool.

Hope.

If you initiate physical contact with Allan, he’s going to crumble.

Nobody – not even any of the Barbies or Kens – have ever touched him before. Even by accident.

So when you, warm, soft, gentle, brush against his arm or his hand, or pat his back or ruffle his hair, he’s floored.

He LOVES laying his head on your thighs and letting you comb your fingers through his hair. Makes him fall asleep every time.

He’s sure that this is what it’s like to be human, to feel. To be left breathless when he didn’t have lungs, to be left wanting more when he’s never had a need for anything immaterial.

With you, he feels full, his hollow interior overflowing with feeling.

The first time it happened – a brush of the hand – he whimpered.

He couldn’t believe it. Neither could you. When you asked him if he was okay, he couldn’t even keep eye contact.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m– fine,”

“Allan~”

With that tone of voice, he knew what you were about to say wouldn’t be good. When he looked at you, he saw you smiling. Devious.

“Are you flustered because no-one’s ever touched you before ?”

“What– no!”

His defensiveness gave him away. You only laughed, but your voice held no malice. You offered him your hand.

“Well,” you said. “To help you feel more comfortable, would you like me to be your first?”

Allan couldn’t hear anything. His mind had shut down. Yet, he managed a nod.

If he could sweat, he’d be drenched.

When you took his hand in yours for the first (and certainly not the last) time, he felt his world grow brighter. Like he was seeing colour for the first time.

Soon enough, he’s orchestrating situations where physical contact is inevitable: like getting into a cramped Dream House elevator. And he has to pretend as if he’s not going to pass out every time it happens.

If any of the Kens or Barbies threaten you, he’s the first to jump to your defence.

“Back off now, or you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you had.”

Eventually, he ends up going behind your back to threaten them, too. And you’re left wondering why many of your Barbie and Ken friends – despite being brainwashed – are avoiding your path.

The thought of you speaking to anyone else besides him makes his chest burn, but not in the way you did. Not in a way that felt good.

Not that he knew it yet, but this feeling – jealousy – will become a lifelong partner for him: second only to you.

You’d thought Allan was as unassuming as his disposition would lead anyone to believe, but when you’d seen him fight off all those worker Kens just shy of the fringe of the Real World, you were stunned at how capable he was.

“Allan…” you said, breathless, jaw dropped.

He gave you an uncertain look. One that was permeated with the potential for regret.

Had he scared you? Frightened you? You didn’t think he’d ever hurt you, did you? –

His mind was quickly put at ease when you threw your arms around him and pulled him into a hug.

“That was so cool!” You said, squeezing him.

If Allan had a heart, it would have stopped by now. He was sure of it.

He’s never been hugged before. Never hugged anyone. He’s unsure of what to do save for the base instinct to put his arms around you, too.

And once he does, he never wants to let go.

He buries his face into your shoulder. You’re warm. Kind. Your scent is unlike anything he’s ever encountered.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N),” he says, chin to your shoulder. He’s just about holding it together, his breathing shallow, his body ablaze with the feeling of your skin on his.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” He gives you a squeeze. “I promise.”

And, as he looks over your shoulder and sees Kendom Land in its dangerous infancy, he wonders if this feeling – this need to be by your side – will be the end of him. 

And, from within he hears something.

Dull, but there.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He’s not a human. Not a doll anymore, either. A purgatorious in between.

And now, he has to choose.

Keep you with him here in Barbie– Kendom Land, where he knows how everything works and he can keep an eye on you – where you’ll be his.

Or, come with you to the Real World, where he can be yours completely.

Either way, he’s inescapable. And you don’t even know it yet.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterpost Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN gets a job as Harry's maid and his occupation comes as a shock to her - he writes erotica.

author's note: i'm back! (please don't kill me, i'm sorry that it's been so long <3) this is something that's been in the works for basically over a year now, but it's finally coming to life! it's also got a lovely lil' flash-forward at the end (which you all know i love) thank you all for sticking with me and i hope it won't be as long the next time.

word count: 13.2k of scandalous smut, fluff, 1800s society and harry being a sexy man of the house erotica writer.

let me know what you think of desire here. love u all <3

London, 1817

YN didn’t have a single shilling to her name. 

As well as not having a single shilling to her name, she was currently homeless and squatting in dark alleyways. Her start to life hadn’t been the best, and her skill set wasn’t full of attributes that may help her in her quest of finding employment. As for a family, YN didn’t necessarily have one. Being the sixth child in a household, one that wasn’t surviving with five children it already had, meant her life wasn’t as black and white as it looked. She has spent the last few days, after finally deciding to pack up and leave home, looking for any sort of job and she truly meant any. So far, she hadn’t found anything, and she was running out of the food that she had stolen from the kitchen back home and that meant she was running out of time. 

It was the fourth day in her quest when she found something. She hadn’t necessarily thought she would find anything when she had picked up the newspaper that morning (or rather stolen it from the bag of a newsboy) but there it was in black and white. The advert was four lines at most and gave relatively nothing away. It asked for a female maid, who had experience in household chores. So far, all the boxes, YN could tick. The next asked that she’d be able to live on site, in the house she would be working in. If anything, that was better for YN than having to find somewhere to live. The last line gave the address of the house, and the preferred times for visiting. 

YN thankfully saw a man walking past with a pocket watch and politely asked him the time, to which he replied that it was a quarter to two, meaning that YN still had two hours to hopefully find the house and herself a job. The side of town that the house was on YN had never been to, in fact she’d never even been a mile in the vicinity of it, so she did have to ask a few people. YN wasn’t easily intimated, but when the people she had to ask obviously had money and were quietly judging her dishevelled state she struggled. 

She didn’t know the time, and YN struggled to figure out how much time had passed usually, and all she could do was pray that she hadn’t gone over the time stated on the newspaper advertisement. When she arrived at the house that she believed to be the right one, she felt thankful when she could see a man gardening just by the gate – a person she could ask to affirm that she was in the right place. 

“Excuse me, sir,” he seemed to sigh as he dropped his trowel and turned to look at YN, “Is this the Styles residence?” 

“It is,” his accent wasn’t what YN expected, she hadn’t met anybody before that wasn’t from London, “How can we help you, miss?” 

YN cleared her throat, “I’m enquiring about the advert you placed in the newspaper. The one for the maid role.” 

“I’m sorry, miss,” he sighed, finally standing up and wiping his hands on his trousers, “You’re too late, Mr Styles has already interviewed all of the candidates.”

“Oh,” the smile faltered on YN’s face. All of the excitement she felt about the advert had left a pit of disappointment in her, “I’m really sorry, sir, it’s just that I had to walk from the other side of town, and I don’t have a watch to tell the time.”

“I am sorry, miss, but there’s nothing that I can do. Mr. Styles will already be making his decision.” 

“Well,” she sighed, placing the newspaper in the pocket of her jacket, “I’m sorry to have disturbed you sir, I’ll let you get back to your gardening. Is it possible to just ask you directions on the quickest way to get back into town?”

The man seems to hesitate for a second. He looks down at his gardening, and the back up at YN before sighing and wiping the sweat off his head. She felt slightly out of place and stood waiting for his response for a few seconds. 

“He might be in a good mood,” he mutters, “Please come in, miss, and I’ll go check with Mr. Styles. Even if he says no, we can get you a nice cup of tea.” 

YN couldn’t be ever more grateful. 

The closer that YN made it towards the house, or should she say mansion, she could almost feel her breath catching within her throat. Even though it was now highly unlikely that it would be the case, there was still the thought in the back of her mind that she could end up living here. She followed the man inside the towering door, her body feeling incredibly out of place in the grandeur of the house she was now in. 

If YN was honest, this house may possibly be the biggest house that she had ever seen, never mind stood in. The exterior of the house certainly didn’t do the interieur justice at all. The house was immaculate, and YN wondered if there was already a maid on site. The man she was following stopped in front of one of the doors by the main entrance and opened it. 

“You can take a seat in here,” he motions to the seating in the middle of the room, “I’ll go and check if Mr. Styles would like to see you. Can I take your name, miss?” 

“YN. YN YLN.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss. YLN,” he beams, “I’m Mr. Towers.”

“A pleasure to meet you too.” 

The door slammed shut behind Mr. Towers, allowing YN to finally take in a deep breath to release the tension within her body. Looking around at the room, YN was shocked at the size of the parlour she was in, as well as the large bookcase filled to the brim with books. One of the things that YN prided herself on, which allowed her to find this opportunity in the first place, was her ability to read. It wasn’t usual for a woman of her status to know how to read, but she had met a kind gentleman at the market once and he spent his Sundays with her, teaching her how to read. 

YN stopped in front of one shelf that seemed to have books from the same author along the entirety of it. H.E. Scott. It wasn’t a name that was familiar to YN, but she couldn’t help but want to reach out and pick them up. Just as her finger was about to touch the cover, the door swung open, and YN flinched away from the bookcase.

“Miss. YLN,” She immediately dropped her hands down by her side, “Mr. Styles will see you now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Towers.”

Following Mr. Towers out of the room, YN was led up a grand staircase that she could only dream of owning one day. YN had no idea about the architecture of houses, nor as to what wood complimented each other or anything like that – but she knew what appeased her eyes and everything about this house appeased them. YN held the banister with one hand and lifted her skirt up with the other and followed Mr. Towers.

At the top of the staircase, a corridor spilt up to the left and to the right. YN couldn’t help herself, and all she wanted to do was to explore and see every single corner of this mansion that Mr. Styles calls home. She followed Mr. Towers all the way to the last door on the left.

He knocked on the door and after the “Come in,” from the other side, Mr. Towers opened the door.

“Good luck,” Mr. Towers smiles.

The door shut behind YN once she stepped in, and she slightly jumped at the sound. There were few things in life that could make YN nervous, but the way that her heart was about to beat out of her chest she honestly thought that she was close to a heart attack.

She hadn’t known what she had expected of Mr. Styles. Her main instinct was an old man, close to his death that needed extra help around the house because his wife had passed. What she hadn’t been expecting was a man whose age was like hers, with dark brown hair that framed his entire face, and hard features that she was having trouble drawing her eyes away from. There were few people that intimidate her (her father being one of them) but she had a feeling that she was going to be adding Mr. Styles to that list.

“Mr. Styles,” YN shrugged all of her worries and walked towards him with her hand outstretched, “I’m YN YLN.”

He didn’t stand up, and he didn’t shake her hand. He didn’t even take his eyes away from whatever piece of paper he was reading. She nervously gripped the sides of her dress as she walked towards him, the heels of her shoes hitting the floor with a tap every step she took.

“I’m…” She hesitated slightly, not exactly knowing what to do. Did she sit down? Did she remain standing? Did she wait until he spoke to her? She hadn’t a clue what to do, and she was truly starting to panic, “I’m here for the job as the maid. I know I’m a little late, but I came from across town and-”

YN watched as he lifted his hand up, as though to shut her up. It did. He didn’t even look up at her, just continued looking down at the heaps and heaps of paper that were sat in front of him.

“Do you know how to clean?” YN’s eyes almost widened in shock at the sound of his deep, coarse voice. It was as though he hadn’t spoken in years, or that he had been speaking too much and that it needed a rest.

“Uh… yes I do.”

“Are you sure about that?” His reply came quick, but he still didn’t look at her.

“Yes,” YN nodded her head, “I do know how to clean.”

“Do you know how to cook?”

“Yes.”

“You’re hired,” Finally, he lifted his head up from his papers and looked directly at her, his green eyes boring into YN’s. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, “Speak to Mr. Towers about the details, you shall start immediately. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you,” YN nodded her head and turned to walk out of the room, unable to hide the smile that danced across her lips.

“Clean up and get changed before you start,” She stops in her tracks at the sound of his voice again, “You’re filthy.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Your room is down here, by the pantry,” Mr Towers explains as he walks her towards her room, “There’s a uniform already in there for you, along with a pot of water ready to boil for a bath.”

“Thank you, Mr. Towers,” YN nodded her head at the older man.

“Don’t thank me yet,” The older man threw the door to her room open, “It’s only tiny, but you have a bed and a fire, so you won’t be cold.”

“It’s…” After stepping into the room, YN couldn’t help the smile that beamed over her face. The room itself was the size of the room that she shared with her entire family growing up – and it was all to herself, “It’s perfect.”

Mr. Towers looked at her with a puzzled look on his face but shrugged his shoulders, “If you say so… Mr. Styles expects his dinner by seven weeknights, and eight on weekends when he has his guests over.”

“Is there anything that Mr. Styles prefers to eat that I could make for him? To say thank you?” She asked, placing her bag down on the bed.

Mr. Towers laughed and shook his head, “Mr. Styles has groceries delivered to the house every day. It has what he wants to eat in plenty, and we eat whatever is left in a broth.”

YN nodded her head. She had never known anything like it, and she couldn’t believe how much money and power Mr. Styles seemed to have.

“Thank you, Mr. Towers,” YN nodded with a polite smile, “I shall see you later.”

“Good day, Miss. YLN.”

Mr. Towers shut the door behind him, and once she had heard his footsteps growing lighter, she dropped backwards onto her bed with a laugh. It was almost as though she was sat within her own fever dream, where she had finally found herself a room, a bed and a job all at the same time.

Looking up at the small clock that sat above the fireplace, YN saw that it was just past three and she decided that it was probably time that she washed herself and made sure that she had plenty of time to prepare Mr. Styles’ dinner. Seeing that the pot of water was sat by the floor next to the fire, she made quick haste hanging it over the fire to heat up. It was at this point she saw the tin bath in the corner of the room, as well as her lavatory pot. A small mirror sat on a small cabinet, that once she opened, she saw contained a button up shirt, skirt and apron that she guessed was her uniform. She placed it neatly upon the bed, along with the fresh towel in the drawer and stripped of her current clothes.

One thing that YN always struggled with was the sight of her body. It was dirty and grimy, and malnourished to the point where it was sometimes painful. She was hoping that having control over the meals she ate meant that she could gain more strength and finally be happy with herself. The first step in that was getting into the bath, a thing that she hadn’t had in months. The feeling of the warm water on her skin, and the grime leaving her skin and the feeling of freshly washed hair was something that she could get used to. She left her hair drying in its natural state as she dressed, enjoying the feeling of new clothes on her skin also.

There wasn’t much that YN could say that she enjoyed in her life, but these small little luxuries that she’d never had before were certainly things that she enjoyed. She couldn’t believe her luck if she was completely honest, and that was made even more clear when she stepped into the kitchen. It was bigger than the entire house that YN grew up in, and it was filled with all the luxuries that she could have only dreamed of.

She saw some fillets of beef, along with vegetables and potatoes that she knew could be made into a divine meal. She got started right away, peeling and boiling the potatoes, cutting and preparing the vegetables and even cooking the beef until it was perfect all the way through. It seemed that her skills in the kitchen, albeit very basic ones, were coming in handy in more ways than one. With everything that was left after she’d plating Mr. Styles’ up, she made into a broth and left to simmer on the stove.

YN had the food prepared five minutes before it was ready because she knew that in this mansion that Mr Styles called his home, she would have to find the dining room. She hoped that whatever he liked to drink was there, because she couldn’t find anything in the kitchen that he might want.

She passed the room that she had waited in earlier in the day but knew that wasn’t the room that she was looking for. It was the room across from that, which had its door opened slightly, showing a large dining table which made YN realise that was the room she was looking for. Nerves bubbled in the pit of her stomach when she realised that Mr Styles was already there and waiting for her.

YN wiped her slightly sweaty palms on her apron and knocked twice on the door, waiting for Mr Styles to say that she could enter before she did. It didn’t take long before he was taking a few steps into the room and closing the door behind her. Whilst he wasn’t sat in his study anymore, he still had a stack of papers that he was reading in his hands. YN wondered what he was reading.

She took rushed steps towards him, being sure to make haste so that he couldn’t say anything to her. She was on time, and all she could hope is that he was happy with what she had produced for him. YN placed his plate down in front of him, and he finally looked up from his papers at it. He didn’t say anything to her but seemed content enough to place the papers down.  

“I expect a glass of whiskey poured with my meals.” He says to her, picking up his cutlery to start his meal.

“Of course, Mr. Styles.”

It didn’t take YN long to spot the bar cart in the corner of the room and make her way over to it. She picked up a glass and turned it over so that she could pour the drink into it. She hadn’t ever tried alcohol before, let alone know what whiskey was but she guessed that it was probably the one that looked the most loved. She poured the drink so that the bottom of the glass was about a third full before walking back over to Mr. Styles and placing it in front of him.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” She asks, and he shook his head.

She began to walk towards the door when Mr. Styles spoke to her again, “I’ll be having guests over tomorrow, so I’ll expect a full dinner service. There will be three of us.”

“Certainly, Mr. Styles.”

YN still had no idea what Mr Styles did for work, or what type of guests he would be having over to his house. Saying that, it was only her first day, but it would be nice to have some sort of incline as to who she was working for. As she walked out of the dining room, she remembered the books she had seen in the room across the hall earlier.

There was no sign of Mr. Towers, and she knew that Mr. Styles would be eating his dinner for the foreseeable and decided that she had plenty of time to make her way over to the sitting room. She took small steps, trying not to make the sound of her shoes on the floor too obvious to the rest of the house. With one last glance behind her, she slipped through the door and closed it as quietly as she could.

If there was one thing, she could say about Mr. Styles, it was that he certainly knew how to decorate a room. His entire house was so beautifully decorated, but so minimal at the same time. Every wood matched, the accents of the rugs and curtains matched in each room, but this room was the one that YN was the most impressed with so far. It wasn’t the rugs, or the chandelier in this room that impressed her, but more so the grand bookcase that covered two walls of the room.

Her feet almost moved automatically as she made her way towards the middle shelf again, ones covered to the brim with books from that same author, H.E. Scott, the author that YN had never heard of. She hadn’t seen such a collection of books before, and she was curious about every single one. Why were there so many? Why did Mr. Styles enjoy this author so much to have what seemed to be every single one of his books?

YN couldn’t help but reach out and take one. It was the third one she decided upon, revelling at the hard backed emerald book with gold lettering on them.

From the Dining Table, H.E. Scott

Nothing about the cover, or even the name gave anything away and that became even more obvious when she opened the book. She skimmed over a few pages, only taking in a few words from each page but it was blatantly obvious that it was a romance novel. It was only until YN was about two-thirds through flicking through the book that she figured out what it was.

Darkness covered his eyes as he looked at her. She had never seen anybody with eyes clouded by such a fierce lust before, and she had never suspected that those eyes would be piercing directly at hers.

His barn, only lit by the flickering oil lamp in the corner was silent, so silent that the void was filled by the pattering of the rain on the roof. The same rain that had caused her clothes to be sodden and clinging to her, showing him every rise and fall of her chest.

“Do I make you nervous?” One little shake of her head and he was taking small and slow steps towards her. She thought that it must have been possible for him to hear the whirring of her brain, and the quicker beating of her chest, “Are you positive about that, kitten?”

“I am,” As he took small steps towards her, she was taking small steps back. That was until she ended up right upon his dining table. Her hands dropped upon the table behind her as his hands spread her legs so that he could stand between them.

“Tell me what you want,” He whispered, moving closer and closer until she could feel his breath upon her skin, “I want you to tell me what you want, kitten.”

“I want…” She whispered back, trying to not make it obvious that the feeling of his lips hovering above her neck, “I want… you.”

“And how do you want me?”

“I want you here.”

“What are you doing?” YN had never slapped a book closed faster in her life.

Seeing Mr. Styles stood there in the doorway, with one of his hands in his pocket looking upon her with a sneer of his face that she hasn’t seen on anybody’s face before in her life knocked her. She was that invested in the book that she obviously hadn’t her the door across the hallway open, or Mr. Styles’ footsteps on the wooden floor on the corridor, and she didn’t hear the door open in front of her.

“Mr. Styles…” YN tried to find the right words, but none were springing to mind, “I was just…”

“You were just what?” He takes one step towards her, and she automatically took one step back, “You were just snooping? Looking through things that don’t belong to you.”

“Mr. Styles… I’m sorry,” YN stood there fumbling on her words, still with the culprit in her hands.

“Don’t let me catch you again,” YN nods and places the book back on the shelf, “I’ll need one of the guest bedrooms prepared for my guests tomorrow. Preferably make it the one opposite my office.”

“Yes sir.”

By the time that the door had slammed behind him, YN didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or scream and what had just happened. One thing that she did know was that she was hungry and had a broth waiting for her in the kitchen that would hopefully fix all of her problems.

After waking up the next morning, YN had spent the day cooking breakfasts and lunches and cleaning bedrooms and dining rooms and sitting rooms. It had been a lot of work, but it was the first day in a while where YN hadn’t even glanced at the clock and prayed for the night to come. She was that busy that when seven rolled around, and the doorbell rang YN was just about ready for it.

As Mr. Towers opened the door, YN stood just behind him to the right waiting to greet the guests and prepare them some drinks. YN hadn’t seen Mr. Styles all day, and after the situation yesterday she decided that was probably the best thing to happen. She knew that she would have to see him tonight during the dinner service, but that was work and she couldn’t do anything to make him that upset, could she?

“Welcome, it is lovely to see you both again,” Mr. Towers greets the couple walking through the door.

YN wasn’t used to the glitz and glamour of high-end London socialites and that became very apparent when Mr. and Mrs. Williamson walked through the door. Mrs. Williamson was petite, blonde and insanely gorgeous stood in the hallway in the most beautiful deep blue gown that YN could only dream about. Mr. Williamson stood next to her; his hand rested on the small of his wife’s back.

“This is Miss. YLN, she’ll take you through to the parlour and get you some drinks.”

YN painted her prettiest smile on her face and led them through to the parlour watching as Mr and Mrs. Williamson sat down upon the sofa.

“Mr. Styles has brought a red wine that he would like to two of you to try,” YN picked up the bottle to show the two of them.

“Then try it we shall,” Mr. Williamson spoke, sharing a laugh between himself and his wife.

YN moved over to the bar cart where three of Mr. Styles’ best wine glasses sat. She poured the first two but hesitated on the third just because she didn’t know when Mr. Styles would be joining the party. She didn’t have to wait very long.

“Well, it seems as though this party has started without me!”

As YN watched Mr. Styles greet Mr. Williamson with a ‘man hug’ and kissed Mrs. Williamson on the cheek, she made sure that she’d poured his wine and walked over to pass it to him. He didn’t look at her, and he didn’t even acknowledge what she had done.

“That’s all,” He still didn’t look at her, “We’ll be in the dining room at eight for dinner service.”

YN nodded in his direction, even though he wasn’t looking at her and left the room. YN didn’t know what kind of meal this was going to be, whether it was business or pleasure, but she knew that snooping to ask questions probably wasn’t the best point of call at this time.

For the first time the whole day, whilst she was finishing off the dinner that she had been making the entire day, she was clock-watching. Her eyes were always placed upon the clock making sure that everything was ready in time, and that she wasn’t late. As the hands clicked towards eight, she made sure that all three plates were ready, and brought them all to the dining room. At that point, Mr. Styles and the Williamsons were making their way over. Laughter rattled around the walls of the house, and it was the loudest the house had been since YN had arrived.

She placed Mrs. Williamson plate down first, followed by her husbands and then finally Mr. Styles’. Mr. Styles and Mr. Williamson were still entrapped in whatever conversation they were having in the parlour, and Mrs. Williamson was listening with a polite smile. YN made sure that all their glasses were refilled, and that she gave Mrs. Williamson a little more than the men which she seemed to appreciate with a look that was sent her way.

“Is that all, Mr Styles?” She asked, addressing Mr. Styles for the first time since last night.

“Yes, that is all,” With a fleeting glance and a slight shake of his hand he dismissed her, and she left the room. The second she was out in the hall she didn’t know what to do with herself.

YN could have some food, but she wasn’t hungry. She had cleaned everything in the house from top to bottom, and there wasn’t anything else that she could sort. One thing that she could do was turn down the guest bedroom ready for Mr. and Mrs. Williamson. She started by walking in the room and lighting some of the candles that were necessary for people to see. Next came turning down the bedsheets and airing them out so that they were ready for the couple when they decided to come to bed.

Once she was happy with the room, she decided that it was probably time to go check on them and their dinner and see if they needed anything. As she opened the door, she was shocked to hear footsteps ascending the stairs. Instead of walking out of the room straight away, she poked her head around so that she could just see the end of Mr. Styles and the Williamson’s walking up the stairs. She knew that she would have to step out of the room if they turned in this direction, but they didn’t. Instead, the couple and the man of the house started to walk towards Mr. Styles’ room at the end of the hall.

YN didn’t know what to think, and she didn’t know what to do. Her eyes almost fell out of her head when he saw Mr. Styles smiling at the couple, especially when they kissed each other. Maybe they were just walking Mr. Styles to his room? Maybe that was it?

YN knew that wasn’t the case when the two of them walked into the room, and with one fleeting glance in YN’s direction, and with what YN could only describe as a dashing smile at her he followed the couple inside his room.

YN didn’t sleep a wink that night. She had no idea what she had witnessed the night before, but she knew that it wasn’t to the standard of high society, or at least not what she knew high society to be like. Whatever happened in that room was unknown to her, and whilst a part of her wanted to know, she also didn’t want to know at all.

The Williamsons had left about an hour ago, and YN had spent the morning washing the linens from their room (which they did use later in the night) and washing Mr. Styles’ linens (at his request). YN didn’t find anything suspicious within the rooms, but she didn’t look for anything.

It was mid-afternoon at this point, and she had finished all her work for the afternoon and was just waiting for the time that she needed to start preparing and making Mr. Styles’ dinner. As she now had this spare time, she decided that it was the perfect opportunity to sit outside with some bread and butter and enjoy her favourite book – Jane Eyre.

She reread the book every so often, even though at this point she knew it word by word. She had been given the book by the man who taught her how to read when she was younger, so it was very well-loved and quite tattered, but YN didn’t care. She found a secluded spot by a tree, near to the back entrance of the house into the kitchen just encase Mr. Styles needed her at any point.

YN was about a third into the book when the back door opened, and out walked Mr. Styles with a cigarette and match in hand. YN hadn’t known that he smoked but seeing him stood there it was something that he had done before. When he turned to the right and saw her, she immediately looked down at her book, as though she hadn’t been looking at him and that he hadn’t caught her.

She heard his footsteps, but she didn’t look up at him. If she looked up, she didn’t know what she would find, and she didn’t know how she would deal with it.

“What are you reading?”

“Jane Eyre, sir,” Her eyes still never left her book, even though she wasn’t reading.

“You obviously like to read.”

She finally looked up at him, confused to see him leant against the edge of the house a few metres away from where she was reading her book. YN thought that she would be greeted by a look of malice, but there was nothing of the sort.

“I do, sir,” She offered him, “It is one of my favourite things to do.”

“I suppose it is,” He nodded his head in her direction, “Seeing as though I caught you snooping in my own collection not long ago.”

“I’m very sorry about that, sir,” She wasn’t, but she had to keep appearances up with the man that employed her.

“No, you’re not,” YN opened her mouth to speak but Mr. Styles shook his head, “You don’t have to be.”

“But they weren’t mine, sir,” A small smile, “I shouldn’t have assumed that I could do such a thing.”

“You can, if you want,” Not a smile in her direction, but more so a less harsh glance than before, “If you would care to borrow a book from my collection you can, but it must be placed back once you’re done.”

“Thank you, sir,” She nodded.

YN was in shock, but she was not going to let him know that. After the way that he had spoken to her a few days prior about the event, she thought that he would never let her touch anything of his unless to clean it or serve it to him.

“Don’t thank me,” He shrugged, “Just let me know what you think of it, once you finish. I assume you’ll be finishing the book you started?”

“Most likely.”

He laughed. A proper laugh. She couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her lips, watching his stern face break out into a smile, dimples in his tanned cheeks showing and everything.

“I look forward to it,” Still smiling, this was new. Then it dropped, “I also want to discuss what you may have seen yesterday, upstairs with my guests and I.”

“Rest assured, sir, I didn’t see anything.”

“You did, we both know you did,” A small lift of his lips, “It is okay, I know it must have been quite a shock to you. But I just want to let you know that it is my work. Or, well, part of it.”

“Sir, you don’t need to –”

“I know I don’t,” He shrugged his shoulders, “But I fear I must, for the sake of my work and yours. What you saw is sometimes a frequent occurrence in this house, and I expect you to take a blind eye to it. If you cannot, then I don’t believe that this is the job for you.”

“Mr. Styles, rest assured I didn’t see anything, nor will I see anything.”

“Good,” He dropped his cigarette on the floor and stumped it out with the sole of his shoe, “Dinner at seven, let it be prompt.”

“Yes sir.”

With that, he left her. YN continued through the evening on autopilot. All she could think about was that once her work was finished, and Mr. Styles was fed and either in his study on in bed, YN could go to the parlour and retrieve that book and continue what she had been reading. She wanted to know what the book contained, and why Mr. Styles had so many of them. She knew that by reading the book one of her questions would be answered.

“I’ll be retreating to my study,” Mr. Styles spoke after YN removed his empty plates, “You won’t be needed for the rest of the night.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles.”

He walked out of the room before her, and she followed a few steps behind him. As he ascended the stairs, he threw one fleeting glance back at her and continued walking up. YN doesn’t think that she had ever washed plates and cutlery so quickly in her life. Once it was finished, she rushed into the parlour, retrieved the third book on the shelf and rushed back into her room where her oil lamp was waiting for her.

YN knew that she could start the book from the start and try and understand the story before rushing to the part that she had read the last time she had this book in her hands, but it was no use. YN flicked through the pages until she was right back where she was the days prior.

“Your wish is my command, kitten.”

It was the first time that they had kissed, with her sat upon his dining table, soaked from the rain and him stood in between her parted legs. As their lips touched and moved in a rhythm too profound to the blind eye, his hands started to dance the length of her legs. Moving upward from her stocking to the flesh of her thigh that was exposed underneath her skirt.

As his coarse fingertips moved up her smooth skin at a pace that was too slow for her liking, she found a heat pushing over her body that she needed to be put out. It was so fierce and burning so far in the pit of her stomach that she had no idea how he would put out the flames.

He removed his lips from hers, only to move further down her neck until his teeth began to nip and explicit sounds escaped her lips. Everything seemed to be going so slowly, but then it was though a switch turned within him and everything became sort of feverish.

His hands moved from her thighs towards her bottom, where he grabbed the flesh and pulled her even further towards the edge of the dining table. He lifted the material of her skirt up so that it was around her waist and reached for her bloomers, in an instance ripping them straight down the middle until she was exposed to him, all of her was exposed to him.

“May I?” At this point, he was down on his knees, face to face with the heat that was threatening to explode out of her.

“Please, please do it and never stop.”

That was all it took for him to reach out and touch. He used his hands to spread her thighs apart once more and wasted no time to start devouring her.

YN slammed the book shut. Closing her eyes, she tried everything to regulate her breathing, but nothing seemed to help. Her heart was beating out of her chest, and the heat that the lady had been describing within the book seemed to have enlightened within her. This was a feeling that YN had never felt before in her life, and she had no idea what to do with it. So, she decided to read on.

YN read the book, from start to finish in that entire night. YN knew about the relations that took place between a man and woman, but she had never read them in such detail, especially not in such a way between a lady of the house and her groundskeeper. This sort of relationship would be known as a scandal – something that would ruin the lady forever. In the book it was something sensual, and something to be desired. The only word that came to YN’s head after reading that book was desire – the desire to feel like that with somebody.

YN had no idea how to shake herself of that feeling.

“What did you think?”

It was early the next day, and YN had just placed Mr. Styles’ breakfast in front of him along with a serving of tea. Normally, breakfast is silent and after the sleepless night that YN had prior, she was excited for a silent breakfast, a speed through of her chores and then possibly a nap. What she hadn’t anticipated was Mr. Styles striking up a conversation with her.

“What did I think about what, sir?” YN didn’t know that she was going to be playing it as though she hadn’t a clue what he was going on about them.

“The book, Miss. YLN,” He wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin, “I noticed this morning that from the dining table wasn’t in its usual spot. A good choice, if I must say.”

YN couldn’t draw her eyes away from the small smile upon his face. It was as though Mr. Styles was plaguing her, and by the look on his face he knew that he was too. She had no idea how to respond to him, or even how to obtain the words to answer his question.

“It was…” She hesitated, and he raised his eyebrows at her. Was he shocked that she seemed to have no words for him?

“Ground-breaking?” He wiped his mouth with his napkin one last time before placing it on the table and standing up, “Scandalous?” He took a step with each word that left his mouth, “Romantic?” Until he was stood directly in front of her, so close that she could almost feel his breath on her skin, “Sensual?”

YN stood planted to her spot, trying not to crack under Mr. Styles’ gaze but it was a little too difficult. She opened her mouth to speak, but she had no words. It was almost as though he could feel how nervous she was and knew exactly what strings to pull to make it worse. Her breathing was ragged, and she almost felt as though she was turning a little light-headed.

“Yes, sir.” YN nodded her head, swallowing to reduce the coarseness in her throat, “All of those things.”

“And how did it make you feel?”

YN looked down at her hands, and then back up to Mr. Styles. He had a devilish look in his eye, that same look that he had when she had seen him walking into his chambers with the Williamsons. It shook YN to her core, but she had to stand there and answer his questions, even if she didn’t have a single thought in her head that could help her with that.

“It made me feel,” She hesitated for a moment, but said the only word that was coming to her head, “Desire.”

It was the same word that she had mulled over last night when she had finished the book and closed it. After more thought last night, she not only had the desire to feel that with somebody, but the desire to read all the books like that she could. In her entire life she had never read anything which such a scandalous tone, but here she was with a desire for more.

“Desire,” He nodded his head with a smile, “That’s a good one. What did you feel desire for?”

YN cleared her throat, “A desire to read more.”

“Well, there’s a full bookcase of other books in the library for you to fulfil that desire,” He leant one of his hands upon the top of his chair next to him, “But what did you really feel desire for?”

YN felt stuck. In all honesty, she felt as though he could read every single thought that was whirring through her head – she hadn’t a single idea about how that could be possible.

“Mr. Styles I –”

“No, Miss. YLN, I want you to tell me exactly what you felt after reading the book.”

YN nodded, “I felt a desire to feel like that, to be –”

“Kissed like that?” YN nodded, “Touched like that?” Another nod.

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

He nodded his head and looked her up and down, as though he was figuring out his next move. YN honestly felt as though she was trapped by him, and by the way that every hair on her body was standing up and her body felt as though it was on fire, she couldn’t decide whether she was enjoying herself or hating every moment.

“Miss. YLN, once you have finished your chores for the day, I’d like you to read the first book on the shelf, Sign of the times, and when you’re done, I’d like you to come and find me.”

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

“Good,” He turns to walk towards the door, “I’ll be in my office, and I do not want to be disturbed until you’ve finished the book.”

With that, he slams the door shut behind him.

It had taken YN just above an hour to finish all her chores, and once she had finished, she rushed to the library with the book in her hand to replace and ready to pick up the one that Mr. Styles had chosen for her. Once she had picked up the book and made her way towards the tree that Mr. Styles had found her reading beneath she sat down and started reading straightaway.

It was a tale of lavish lifestyle, complete with balls and luxury and husband in a manor which had an eye for his wife’s lady’s maid. It was becoming more and more obvious why Mr. Styles had asked her to read this book, and it was making her quite hot under the collar.

It was about halfway through the novel that YN was starting to feel so uncomfortable within her clothing. Her dress felt scratchy against her skin, and her corset felt too tight in all the wrong places. YN was truly captivated by a chapter that takes place within the husband’s office, with the lady’s maid sat upon the desk having only the most scandalous things done to her.

The feeling that she was talking about with Mr. Styles was back. For this book, however, it was certainly more of a desire to feel the way the lady’s maid felt in the book. Compared to the first one she read, there was something so real about this one. She didn’t know if it was because she had so much in common with the lady’s maid, or because the husband had so many characteristics that resembled her employer who was waiting for her to finish the book.

It took her a few hours to finish the book, but she had always been a fast reader and that really helped her do that. Once she had finished the book, and still felt hot under her collar and nervous bubbles in the pit of her stomach at the thought of the next conversation she was going to have.

It felt as though she was acting automatically, walking up the stairs and towards Mr. Styles office without actually telling herself to do so. It wasn’t until she was stood outside of his door, with her hand hovering over the door to knock that reality was kicking in.

With one deep breath, she knocked on the door twice and waited for Mr. Styles to call her in before opening the door.

“Finished already?” YN was surprised that he was the first one to talk, and she was also surprised about how much paper Mr. Styles had piled up on his desk.

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

“Please, come in and take a seat,” He motions to one of the empty seats in front of him, “And shut the door behind you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Under his intense stare, she felt as though everything else that was happening within the world didn’t matter. The way that he was looking at her, sat behind his grand desk in a suit that complemented his frame in a way that YN had never even thought of until reading those books. Whilst she hadn’t seen much similarity between the husband in the book and Mr. Styles, but the situation was becoming more and more like reality – especially now that she was sat within the walls of his office.

“Now, I want to know what you thought,” He says, leaning forward with his elbows on his table, “I want to know the truth, no trying to hide it.”

YN knew what he was doing, but the problem was that she had no idea how to describe how she was feeling to him without speaking so scandalously to her employer.

“Sir, it was… unlike anything I’ve ever read before,” YN couldn’t help herself. If he was going to ask her for the truth, then she was going to give it to him, “Both of the books were.”

“In a good way, I’m guessing?”

“I’m not too sure about that, Mr. Styles.”

He raised one of his eyebrows at her, “Is that so?”

“It’s just sir, I’ve never read anything like that before in my life and I hadn’t ever thought that a book could be so enjoyable and scandalous at the same time.”

Mr. Styles laughed; a full belly laugh that showed those dimples that YN only managed to see in a blue moon. There was no doubt in her mind that Mr. Styles was a handsome man, and that the books hadn’t sparked something in her that she hadn’t ever thought of before reading them. Every single time she watched the man run his hand through his hair, she wanted to be doing that exact thing whilst his head was in between her legs – just like the scene on the dining table in the first book. It was a scandalous thought, and it made her cheeks flush.

“I take it that you enjoyed it, then?” As scandalous as the book were, this conversation with her employer was seemingly more scandalous.

“Yes, I did sir.”

“What if I told you that I wrote them.”

YN felt as though she was shocked all the way to her core, “Sir, you –”

“I wrote them, yes,” He nodded his head, “I take it that this is a shock to you.”

“Just a little, sir.”

“Did you not wonder what I spent hours and hours doing with all of this paper every day?” He asked, as though he was sort plaguing her for her opinion on the matter.

“I did sir, but I never thought that – you were – doing…”

“That I was writing such scandalous things?”

“Well, yes.”

“Well, that is completely understandable,” YN nodded at his words, because it was very true, “I understand that it is such a shock for you, but without these books there is no house, and no job for you.”

“I completely understand that sir,” YN nodded, not wanting to push any buttons that could end with her losing her job.

“Good,” He nodded his head and tapped his finger on the table, “Now I have a proposition for you.”

YN’s eyes widened at his words, “For me.”

“Yes, there’s nobody else in the room is there?” YN laughed at his joke, even if it was at her expense, “I have a proposition for you to be my editor.”

“Your editor?”

“Are you going to repeat everything I say?” It could have been malicious, if it wasn’t for the smile on Mr. Styles’ face.

“No, sir.”

“Good,” He nods his head, “The main reason I am asking is that my editor has been indisposed and I have a deadline for my next book, and I know that you won’t be shocked by the content anymore.”

“Sir, I haven’t edited book before.”

“I know that,” He stands up and moves as he talks, before resting himself in front of her on his desk, “But it needs to be someone I can trust, and that I know won’t be scandalised by the content.”

“Sir, if I may, just because I have read the content doesn’t mean that I wasn’t scandalised by it.”

“Really?” This seemed to shock him, “So you were scandalised by the book.”

“I think it to be improper if I wasn’t scandalised, sir,” YN was truly shocked that he didn’t think that she would be. Did she come off as an improper girl? “The content you write, that was something that my mother told me was only between a man and a woman in the marital bed.”

He nodded his head, “You can always say no, and just continue to be my maid.”

“I never said that sir,” YN was maybe a little too enthusiastic with her response.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Great,” He turned around and picked up a large pile of papers and passed it to her, “This is what I have so far, and I can give you a quill and some ink to edit.”

“Okay,” YN was trying her best to balance the papers that she had been given, “Thank you, Mr. Styles.”

YN and Mr. Styles had been working together for the past couple of weeks, with Mr. Styles writing chapters upon chapters and YN editing every single one until they were ready for publishing. They were about a quarter of the way through the book when Mr. Styles hit a block, and YN ended up sitting in his office whilst he paced around the room.

“I need it to be more… pleasurable, I need it to be about her,” YN was nodding her head, flicking through the paper that he had just written, “But I don’t want it to be too similar to the things that I’ve already done and written. I want it to be new.”

YN understood exactly what was being said, and as she was reading, she was trying to have some sort of ideas come to her as to what she could do. This was different to what she had read of Mr. Styles’ books before, and that was a few now. When she had started edited his books, she decided that she would read more just to see how he liked his books to be edited before they were published.

“What if she was the one to take control?”

Mr. Styles stopped his pacing and turned to look at her, “What?”

“Well, you said that you wanted it to be new, and about her,” YN repeated his words, placing the paper down on the desk and turning to look at him, “Why don’t you let her take control? Let her be the one to make the decisions. That hasn’t been shown in your work before.”

He nodded his head, as though he was coming to his senses with what she was saying. It wasn’t too much of a stretch, but Harry so far has written the majority of his characters where the male is the one to take the lead, why couldn’t the female? (YN knew exactly why in some of the cases the female didn’t, but it would be fun to try.)

“It’s a good idea,” He nods his head, finally sitting back down and stopping the pacing that was driving YN a little up the wall, “But I don’t know the perspective, I don’t know what a woman would say in that situation.”

If he was asking her opinion on this situation, then she had nothing to offer him. YN had never been in a situation even remotely close to the ones in his book – all she knew was the conversation she had with her mother when she was younger and everything that she had read within his books.

“Don’t you have any friends that you could possibly ask?”

“It isn’t exactly a conversation that you bring up over dinner, Miss. YLN,” There was a little maliciousness behind his voice, but YN had spent enough time with Mr. Styles over the past few weeks that she knew to take everything he said during his ‘creative process’ with a pinch of salt.

“What about the Williamsons?” A little timider now, but she had to ask, “Couldn’t you ask them?”

“They came to me with their problems, YN,” Mr. Styles explains, “They’ve been my friends for years, and they know what I do. They were having issues in that aspect of their relationship.”

That made a lot more sense now, and whilst YN hadn’t a clue what had gone on behind those closed doors weeks ago, she had a feeling that it maybe was and wasn’t what she was thinking all at once.

“I understand, Mr. Styles.”

He stood up again and started pacing and YN felt as though she was a second away from rolling her eyes, “Maybe you can help.”

“Mr. Styles,” Normally YN’s tone was shocked at his ideas, but this was a complete shock, “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious,” He stops right in front of her, leaning on the desk behind him with his arms crossed, “We don’t have to, but if you want to, you could help me.”

“And how could I do that?”

“YN, if we could get you to experience that pleasure and tell me exactly how you would take control and want that control to be portrayed.”

“But sir, how am I supposed to do that?”

“I would help,” Mr. Styles said, without any hesitancy, “I can help, if you’d like.”  

“Sir, thank you, but I just… I don’t know –” YN looked at him, looking at her as though she was his only option, “I’m sorry.”

Walking out of the room, YN didn’t know what to do. All of that desire she had been feeling to feel like the women in the books was laid out to her on the table, and she ran. She couldn’t say that she hadn’t imagined Mr. Styles in that way, but he was her employer and that would be drawing a line in a way that she hadn’t before.

Instead of Mr. Styles pacing around the room, it was YN. She was pacing around the entire house, cleaning everything that she could and doing everything that she could. By the time that Mr. Styles’ dinner was ready, she had placed it down and left the room before he had even gotten there, and she waited until he was done before going back to clean up.

Once the house had gone quiet, YN’s thoughts were whirring around in her head. She can’t help the heat that had coursed through her entire body at what Mr. Styles had offered all day. It was a little unbearable, to the point where she couldn’t lay still and couldn’t think about anything but his offer.

What would be the problem if she went through with it? He could fire her. She would be scandalised forever. But she didn’t have much going for her anyway, and she had given up the idea of marriage long ago. What if this was her last chance?

YN didn’t know the time, but it was late, and with a candle clutched in her hand she walked out of her room and upstairs. Her feet carried her towards Mr. Styles’ room. She thought that he would be long asleep, and she would be going right back downstairs but at the sight of the light flickering from underneath his door she knew that wasn’t the case.

“Mr Styles?” She knocked on the door, waiting to hear something before she came in, “Are you awake?”

YN heard shuffling from the other side of the door, before it swung open to reveal Mr. Styles stood there with only his trousers on, his suspenders laying vacant by his sides revealing his entire chest to YN. She couldn’t help her eyes wander down to his chest, and across his arms.

“Miss. YLN,” He seemed shocked, but there was also a bit of concern laced within his voice, “Is everything okay?”

“I was just thinking about what you said earlier… about what you offered,” She cleared her throat slightly, “And I would like to help you, if there’s truly no other option.”

“YN,” It was the first time that he had used her name since she joined him. YN didn’t even know what Mr. Styles’ first name was – he wrote his books under a pseudonym, “Are you sure that this is what you want?”

“I am,” She nodded her head, “I promise.”

That was all it took for Mr. Styles to lean forward, grasp her head between his hands and place his lips directly on hers. YN was a little shocked by it, seeing as though she had never been kissed before, but the second that his hands slipped into her hair that had dissipated. It didn’t take long for her to stumble into his room, where he moved his hands down her body until they were underneath her thighs.

“Jump,” YN did as he said, the words that she seemed to understand when he mumbled them against her lips.

With a swift move, Mr. Styles had his hands underneath her thighs and her legs wrapped around his waist. He pushed his door closed behind and walked her towards his bed. This wasn’t the first time that YN had been in Mr. Styles room but kissing him whilst having her legs wrapped around his waist in only her slip was certainly a different experience then cleaning the room.

Mr. Styles placed YN down on the bed with such ease and light touch that shocked YN if she was completely honest. She was nervous, and truly didn’t know what to expect from this but so far nothing was making her feel too scared.

“Are you still sure about this, YN?”

When he mumbled that against her lips, she didn’t know what to do so she just nodded her head and mumbled a, “Yes,” against his lips.

Mr. Styles’ soft lips removed from yours and started to move down the soft skin of her neck, and every once in a while, she could feel his teeth scratching against the skin and also his tongue grazing every once in a while.

He continued planting kisses down her body, across each part of her skin even over her slip. As he continued moving further down her body, he used his hands to push her slip up. It was almost as though he was asking permission to push it further up and reveal herself to him. With one quick nod of her head, he was doing just that, pushing it up until he was face to face with her. It was the first time that anybody had seen her pussy, and there was no time in her brain for her to be scandalised by the thought.

“Are you okay up there?” He asked, moving his hands lightly up and down her thighs.

“Yes, sir,” She nodded her head, “Just… I’ve never felt like this before.”

“I know you haven’t,” He smiles and places a few kisses along the soft skin of her thighs, “I’m going to start now.”

It only started at first with a soft kiss around where YN needed it the most. It felt as though your entire body was going to combust at any moment, and that Mr. Styles certainly knew what he was doing as she was completely dripping for him. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had dripped right onto the bed beneath him.

Within one blink of her eyes, he was kissing directly on her clit. It was a sensation that she’d never felt before, and she didn’t know whether she’d feel it again. He then moves from kissing to licking right up and down her slit, collecting her arousal before bringing it up to circle her sensitive clit.

“Oh, Mr Styles!”

“Harry,” He mumbles against her, sending shivers all the way down her spine, “M’names Harry, say my name.”

“Harry!” It was the first time that he had told her his name, and now that she knew it, she didn’t know if she would every stop saying it.

He smiles against her before continuing to pleasure her. The feeling of his tongue against her pussy had her almost panting. The fact that he knew how to add the exact pressure onto her clit that have her squirming and moaning his name was unbeknownst to her, but he did. Every small sound that she made had him grinning against her, and he must have been enjoying himself them.

He changes from rhymical laps to her clit to teasing it with the tip of his tongue. It was only when he started to gently suck on it that she started to feel a tightening in her stomach. YN’s legs started to shake, and her breath got caught in her throat.

Harry can tell that YN is getting closer and closer, and knowing that he brings fingers under his mouth until he can sink one of them inside of her. It was almost instantly that she started clenching around his finger. YN immediately reaches out and grabs the blanket that screwed up on the bed behind her. When Harry notices, he immediately reaches out his free hand for her to take – which she does with a lasting squeeze. The intimacy of holding Harry’s hand whilst he does this to her is something that she’ll never forget. The squeeze that YN has on his hand is something that keeps her feeling slightly grounded even though she feels as though she’s truly only a second away from exploding.

Harry pushes another finger inside of her and starts to thrust them in and out of her pussy, coaxing something from the pit of her stomach that she had never felt before in her life. It was as though YN could see stars, and as though she could feel everything on her body more and more. YN can feel just how firm his tongue is, every ridge of it and how warm it is. The feeling to YN was indescribable to her, but yet she had read a scene within one of Harry’s own books that describes it. The only thing that YN could say is that the books definitely do not do the feelings justice.

“Harry…” YN started to squeeze his hand tighter, as she was worked closer and closer to a point that she had never felt before, “Harry, its –”

“I know, love,” He mumbles against her, “Just feel it.”

Seconds later, YN does just that. The feeling of her orgasm on Harry’s fingers and tongue was something that had her mouth opening, her eyes falling shut and her back arching. He doesn’t stop as she reaches that point, he continues working his fingers and his tongue and bringing her past that point.

Once she was coming down from her high, he doesn’t stop his fingers all together just slows them down until she pushes him away due to the sensitivity that she was feeling. He laughed and moved further up until he could kiss her again. Her entire body felt numb, but the second she felt his lips on hers she was brought back down to reality and to the feeling of what had just happened.

Once her breathing calmed down, Harry dropped beside on her on the bed on his back. His chest seemingly seemed back to normal as well. YN didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t even know what to think. For some reason, not knowing what to do she couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” Mr. Styles said, and she could hear the smile on his face.

“Nothing, Mr. Styles.”

“What did I say?” She turns to look at him, and he looks at her too, “My names Harry.”

“Nothing, Harry.”

“You’re cooking something up in that head of yours.”

“No,” YN shakes her head, “No, I’m not.”

“Yes. Yes, you are.”

The only sound that can be heard is YN’s laughter as Harry starts to kiss her neck again.  

YN had spent the last week or so splitting her time up between cleaning and cooking, editing what Mr. Styles was writing and laying between the sheets of Mr. Styles’ bed. It certainly wasn’t a conventional way of living, but YN had never been happier. It was the same for Harry, YN thought. In the few months that she had been with Mr. Styles, she hadn’t seen him as happy as he was now.

Before, he normally kept himself hidden within his office, only ever coming out when it was absolutely necessary that he did. But now, he was always coming out of his office to find her, kissing her and touching her in ways that she craved for more.

The first time that they had sex was a few days ago now, and YN hadn’t wanted to stop. They had been doing it all over the house, in the kitchen, on Harry’s desk, on the dining table and even on the stairs (even though YN would never admit it.) There was even the one time that they did it under the tree that YN had become very fond of in the course of her employment, and Mr. Towers walked around the corner and received the shock of his life. YN didn’t speak to Harry for a few hours, but when he started to attack her neck whilst she was making his dinner, she had no choice but to talk to him.

YN had been planning this for the past day now, and now that he was working in his office, she saw it as the perfect opportunity. It was taking a lot of courage for her to do this, but she knew that she had to do it – for the sake of the book that was.

YN walked up the stairs towards Mr. Styles’ office with purpose, and when she reached his door, she didn’t knock she just walked in. He was sat at his desk (like he always was) with a piece of paper in his hands, obviously reading through something that he had written. At the disturbance of YN walking in, he looked up and at the sight of her just in her slip he couldn’t help the smile at her.

“Is it night-time already?” Unable to stop himself from poking at least a little fun at her.

“No, it’s not,” YN shut the door behind her and started making her way towards him at his desk, “But it is time for something.”

“What is it time for?” He leant back in his chair, allowing for space for her to drop down onto her knees in front of him.

“Do you remember when you first proposed this?” He nodded his head, pretending not to be distracted by her hands working the button on his trousers, “Do you remember what you didn’t know? And what you wanted to know?”

He nodded his head, not being able to think of anything to say as she wrapped her hand around him.

“How would a woman take control?” She teased, running her finger across his tip, “What she would do? And what she would say?”

He moved his hands down, attempting to thread them through her hair.

She tutted and shook her head, “No. Hands by your side.”

He did what she asked, and she decided to finally stop teasing him. She started by just a few kitten lips to his tip, before placing her whole mouth around him. His eyes fluttered shut as she started to take more and more of him in her mouth. Her other hand was cupping his balls, massaging them gently.

“Fuck, YN,” The explicit word just slips out of his mouth, his body completely overridden by the pleasure he was feeling, “You feel so good.”

His hands were gripping the side of the chair he was sat in, so hard that his knuckles were turning white. His breathing was becoming more and more shallow, and she knew exactly what was coming next. This caused her to pull away and for him to moan at the loss of her lips around him.

“Not yet,” She shakes her head and stands up, pulling up her slip until she was bare for him. There were few things that could get her dripping like Harry does, “I didn’t say you could, did I?”

“YN!” His hands come to grasp her hips as she stands up, straddling his waist and lining herself up with him. He watches down between them in anticipation as she sinks down onto him. One of her hands lifts up to grasp her neck, squeezing lightly as she leans down to kiss him. Once he was comfortably inside of her, she started to grind her lips on him.

“Jesus, YN,” He whispered against her lips.

“Feel good?”

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but the only thing that comes out of his lips are another moan. YN continues to lift her hips and drops them back down on him, allowing her head to rest on his shoulders as she does so.

“Do you want to touch me, Harry?” She asks, leaning forward to catch his ear between her teeth.

“Please,” Harry almost begs her to let him touch her, all he wanted to do was touch her and take over.

“Well, I have not decided that you can yet,” YN continues to bounce, leaning back slightly. Her breasts bounce as she moves, and Harry wants to do nothing more than to reach out and touch or take them between his lips.

“YN,” Harry whines, “Please let me touch you, please let me kiss you. Let me take control.”

“No, did you not hear me?” YN continued to bounce up and down, bringing the both of them closer and closer, “You wanted it from my perspective, and that is what you’re getting.”

Harry felt as though he was going to combust. The waves of pleasure were coursing through his body, and he felt as though he was going to tipped over the edge at any second. YN knew that she wasn’t going to have to make him wait much longer, as she was already feeling her own peak closing in on her.

“Are you close, Harry?”

“Yes,” He leans forward to capture her lips on his again, “Please, are you darling?”

“I am.”

“Don’t stop, darling.”

“I am not going to stop, Harry, don’t worry.”

The second YN reaches her peak, Harry does too, and he spills inside of her. YN takes one look at him, with his eyes closed and his head tipped back, hair all over. YN couldn’t help but smile at him, pushing his hair back off his face. Once he opens his eyes he has the biggest grin on his face, and YN can’t help but kiss it off him.

“Was that, okay?” YN mumbles against his lips, and he grins again.

“Okay?” He laughs and pulls her closer, “That was more than okay.”

One Year Later

“YN!” The door slammed shut not that long after the call of her name. She had been sat in the parlour, curled up with a book but at the sound of Harry entering the house. He had left earlier that morning to go into the city centre and YN hadn’t been expecting him back for a while, so she was shocked when he walked through the door.

“In here!” She closed the book that she was reading (not one of Harry’s which may come as a shock).

Harry came bursting through the door of the parlour with the biggest grin on his face that YN had ever seen. He was obviously hiding something behind his back, and YN was positive that she knew what that was.

“It’s ready!” Harry exclaimed, showing her that it was a book that he had been concealing behind his back, “After one long year it’s finally done!”

He walked towards her and sat down next to her on the lounger, passing the book to her so that she could see. Once she had the emerald, green covered book with the gold lettering with the title and the name in gold embossed lettering, YN honestly felt as though she could cry. They had put blood, sweat and tears into for over the past year. But then again, lately anything was making her cry.

“Oh, Harry,” Her eyes did start to water up as he wrapped his arm around her, pulling him closer to her chest, “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” He places a kiss against her cheek, and she leans into his touch, “I want you to open it. Look on the inside.”

YN opened to the first page, where she saw that there was a dedication page.

To the person that showed me what Desire is,

this is for you, my Mrs. Scott.

“Oh, Harry,” That was it, the tears had truly started to fall down YN’s cheeks now and there was no stopping them, “I love it.”

“I know that it’s a shame that we couldn’t write Mrs. Styles, but for the sake of the book you are my Mrs. Scott.”

“And you’re my Mr. Scott.”

YN closed the book and turned her head, pouting her lips for a kiss from her husband. He obviously obliged, not wanting to upset his wife.

“And soon we’ll have our baby Scott,” Harry smiled against her lips, moving his hand so that it was laid across her protruding stomach.

The pregnancy hadn’t been a shock to either of them, especially since they hadn’t been careful before they got married, but even more so when they did get married, seeing as though the scandalous part of their relationship had gone.

The most shocking thing that happened was the night that they finished the book completely, it was all written and ready to be sent off and Harry got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. YN was more shocked than she could believe to the point where she pinched herself because she didn’t believe it was true. YN never thought that she would even know anyone that she could even see spending the rest of her life with, but Harry was that.

It was a little stressful at first for YN to leave maid mode and move into wife mode but once she fell pregnant it became easier. They also hired a new maid, Dahlia, who came from a very similar situation to YN herself, but she was nice enough and did her job as well as they would like her too.

The thought of Harry even looking at Dahlia the way he had looked at YN hadn’t even crossed her mind. The only way that YN could describe Harry since they were married, and even more so when they found out that she was pregnant was that he was completely and utterly armoured by her.

“This baby is a Styles, Mr. Styles,” YN rolled her eyes at his comment, to which he laughed at her, “This baby isn’t going anywhere near the books.”

“That is true,” He nods his head and placed another kiss on her cheek, “You’re right Mrs. Styles.”

“Have you not noticed that I am rarely wrong?” He laughed and kissed her cheek again.

Even though their relationship came about in a very unconventional (and very scandalous way), YN had never, ever been happier and she had Harry to thank for that – and she would for the rest of her life.